Chapter 1

I met Lauren shortly after my seventeenth birthday. She was already twenty-years-old and a friend and classmate of my older sister. Exactly how they met or why they became so close was never really explained. I like to imagine that Paula only wanted to annoy our parents, but the truth is that she'd always been most interested in people who were different. And she loved making trouble for me, of course.

"Lauren's kind of different," Paula confided to me over the phone. "I don't know what Mom and Dad will say, but you have to promise me you'll be nice. Okay?"

"They won't even be here," I reminded her.

Our parents were planning a second honeymoon in Hawaii and despite my age, they'd insisted that Paula stay with me while they were gone. The trip happily coincided with Spring Break and they were probably worried about their oldest daughter appearing in a Girls Gone Wild video. This way they could kill two birds with one stone, or something. I didn't pretend to understand my parents. I only hoped they knew Paula had decided to bring along a friend and I wondered how strange a college coed could be.

"Different how?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," she replied, refusing to elaborate. My sister only laughed as I peppered her with questions. She liked to tease me that way.

We were very close, you know. We were sisters, but that doesn't explain it. Perhaps because we were separated by three years helped. Any more or less than that might have turned us away from each other, but as it was I admired Paula. Grudgingly perhaps, but only because I was the little sister and kind of jealous too. She'd been popular in high school, a cheerleader and very attractive. She encouraged me to follow in her footsteps, but also to be my own person. I was a cheerleader, well-liked by my classmates, and beautiful in my own way.

Where Paula was a tall brunette with hazel eyes and a reasonable complexion, I'd always been petite. My hair was long and thick, chestnut brown to compliment my green eyes, and my skin had a pale, translucent quality. My friends called me Snow White and I didn't tan in the summer; I broiled like a lobster and so I'd learned to enjoy the great indoors. That was our biggest difference. You couldn't keep Paula in the house and I'll never forget the envy I often felt for her bronzed body. She was an athletic girl, but I became something of a bookworm, at turns amusing and confusing my friends. A geek cheerleader? Right.

At the time, as a high school junior, I was dating a boy named Brad. He played football and I suppose that's the only reason we were going out together. It sounds dumb, but it's true. The prettiest girl in school, captain of the JV cheerleading squad, was expected to date a handsome, athletic jock. We were brought together by circumstance, peer pressure rather than genuine emotion, and after only a few months I was ready to look for someone else. It would be slightly embarrassing when we broke up, but this was high school and a week later the kids would have something else to gossip about. I hoped.

Brad wouldn't mind. He never understood why I got annoyed every time we made out. It had something to do with his hands pawing at my tits, or worse, his fingers trying to force their way between my thighs. It wasn't that I didn't like sex. I was curious about it like any girl my age would be, but I had no desire to give myself to a boy I didn't really like in the first place. I only let him kiss me because I wanted to see if that intimacy would somehow change my mind. It didn't and he always spoiled it by trying to feel me up. Stupid Brad.

I'll admit I felt more than slightly curious about other girls. I suppose it's only natural because my best friends were girls and I felt most comfortable being with them. Marcia and Lisa had always been close to me, and with each other. My dad called us the Three Musketeers, largely because he lacked the imagination for anything better. I also think my two friends intimidated him once they hit puberty, perhaps I did as well. It may have only been coincidence, but Marcia and Lisa were every bit as attractive as me and we were all blooming quickly through middle school. My poor dad would blush every time they stayed over for a slumber party, the three of us parading through the house in our constantly shrinking nightgowns.

When I would mention it to Paula, my sister would laugh and tell me she'd had the same problem. Poor Daddy. I remember listening to him make love to my mom through the wall between our bedrooms. I'd be laying on the floor with Marcia and Lisa as we shared the comforters and pillows of our makeshift bed. We stared at each other, covering our mouths to stifle our giggles, wide-eyed and warm with girlish excitement. The squeaking of my parents' bed punctuated by the dull thumping of the headboard against the wall. My mother's muffled gasps and her husband's sharp groans left little doubt in our over-active fourteen-year-old imaginations -- They were fucking!

It couldn't help but make my nipples hard. My breasts would ache and my tummy tingle. I'd rub my thighs together, suffering equal parts guilt, humiliation, and arousal. Worse than that was knowing my two friends felt the same. We were touching ourselves and pretending not to. We feigned sleep so that we wouldn't have to talk over the noise, which would have been hardly noticeable any other time. Everything seems louder in the dark, closer and more intimate. Like my friends. I felt the heat radiating out of Marcia as she lay between Lisa and me. I remember her bare leg accidentally grazing mine, sending a shock of electrical excitement through my flesh.

We learned to masturbate side-by-side, but always in secret. The faint movement of fingers barely scratching at the growing itch between our thighs was so obvious, I have to laugh at the memory. The weak panting through our noses, the compressed sighs rising from our burning lungs. I would hold my breath, desperate not to give myself away, letting it out only when I had no other choice. I measured my pubic hair that way, with my hand inside my panties, reaching for my vulva like a child stealing cookies. The oily arousal seeping between my immature labia would cover my fingers and I'd wipe them clean on my hollow tummy or quivering thighs. I felt my hymen and how I resisted the urge to take my own virginity, I have no idea.

But I only masturbated when my friends were with me, that's my point. I didn't do it alone, no matter how desperately I pretended otherwise. We never spoke of it, not once, but I could hear them cumming. Lisa would bounce her butt off the floor, catch herself and roll onto her side facing away from us. Marcia would whimper like a puppy and spread her legs, almost kicking me as she couldn't seem to control that particular reaction. I could smell them, a tart scent that washed over my flushed skin. If I opened my mouth, as I often did, and drew the air across my pink, wet tongue, I could taste my two friends. I could taste myself and I often felt an insane urge to confess everything.

I wanted to put my hand on Marcia's breasts and feel her heart racing like mine. I wanted to reach for Lisa and pull her against me, pressing my pussy against her hip. They were small fantasies and incomplete, but more often than not it was those two ideas that filled my head. I never let the dream go any further and by the time we were seventeen, our sleepovers had become less frequent and much less intimate. We were no longer innocent girls racing through puberty. We had boyfriends and talked openly about having sex with them. Marcia wasn't a virgin. Lisa had sucked her boyfriend's cock. I lied and told them I'd given Brad a handjob, but I hadn't even seen his penis.

Our new found experience and willingness to talk about it put a real damper on our juvenile sexuality. I mean, we no longer masturbated together and I missed that. Perhaps my friends did too, but I had no way of asking. It had been a secret we'd all kept from each other even while we'd been sharing it. Instead of listening to my parents make love, we could stay up late watching the Fashion Channel and smoking pot in the basement. We'd get giggly and hungry and elaborate on our plans to conquer the world, or at least our school.

The whole time I'd think about climbing over Lisa's body, rubbing my pussy against her while she lay there like a throw pillow. Or reaching for Marcia's breasts, which were always unrestrained by a bra, and pressing them flat beneath my palms. We'd fall asleep without ever mentioning our feelings for each other, even if the desire existed largely in my own imagination. I was afraid of rejection. Afraid of being different. Afraid of my own shadow it seemed and I really hated myself sometimes. I didn't know if I was gay or not; I just wanted to find out. None of it made sense, you know?

Yeah. Between Brad and my two best friends, I felt like a closet lesbian. I mentioned that to my sister once, after a particularly frustrating date with Brad. I'd pushed his hand away from my breasts for the tenth time in as many minutes and by then I didn't even want him to kiss me anymore. I'd made him drive me home and he'd accused me of being a dyke. I told Paula everything, including my stubborn fantasies about Marcia and Lisa. She hadn't laughed, but I immediately felt very self-conscious about it. After she suggested I might actually try something with one of my friends, I made some clumsy excuse and hung up the phone. Neither of us ever brought it up again, but shortly after that she brought Lauren home.

I didn't believe in coincidence either, not when it involved my sister.

"There she is!" Paula swept into the den with typical exuberance.

She embraced me before I was even out of the chair. My sister pulled me to my feet with a grin and like most people, I felt utterly helpless in her presence. Paula kissed my smile and dropped her eyes with a confused expression.

"Where did those come from?" she teased, obviously meaning my breasts.

"Shut-up!" I giggled and we hugged for a few more seconds, not saying anything.

My breasts had finally caught up with the rest of me. Actually, they surpassed the rest of me and were much larger than Paula remembered from her last visit. Beneath my halter top I wore a new bra, size 30C, but it didn't fit me very well. I probably should have bought a D-cup, except that would have been too loose, adjustable straps or no. Anyway, with my slender build, non-existent waist, and being so short like I was, my tits looked even bigger than they were. I wasn't exactly embarrassed by them, but I was all too aware of the interest they generated.

Like that of her friend, whom I hadn't noticed immediately. A tall blonde stood silently in the open doorway, wearing a patient smile above her turtle-neck sweater and designer jeans. Paula caught the direction of my gaze and let me go, turning her head.

"Oh! Come on in, Lauren," she said. "Don't be shy. This is my little sister, Jennifer, except she's not that little anymore."

"Be nice," I warned, but I didn't mind the attention. Paula seemed to be playing nice and I hadn't seen her in awhile.

"Still just a munchkin though," she continued, unable to resist the urge to tease me about my height, or lack thereof. My sister stood something like 5'10" tall, which seemed ridiculous to me as I'd been stuck at 5'1" exactly for the last three years or so.

"Hi Jennifer," Lauren said in a pleasant voice. She had cold eyes, it seemed to me, but they thawed noticeably when she smiled.

"Just Jen is okay," I told her. "How was the trip?"

"Long," they both replied at the same time, sharing a laugh and slapping hands.

"Six hours listening to Chris Isaac over and over and over..." Lauren told me, giving Paula a hard time.

"Don't remind me!" I rolled my eyes. "She tortured me with that guy for years."

"Right! You know you like him," Paula said, making a face. "It was only five and half hours anyway. I bought a radar detector."

"Don't tell Dad you were speeding," I said. "He's been worrying all week."

"All month probably," she corrected me.

My sister went to college in Chicago, as did Lauren, obviously, and they'd driven all the way across Wisconsin to reach Minneapolis. It wasn't a bad drive, I knew that from experience, but it could be awfully boring. Kind of hard on the butt as well, which explains why Lauren quickly agreed to the idea of taking a hot soak in the upstairs bathtub. Paula loved baths and she didn't apologize as she dragged her friend away after such a brief introduction. They weren't going to bathe together or anything; my sister would use the master bath. They only had to share the same bedroom and Paula's room was exactly as she'd left it two years before. Well, Mom kept it clean the way my sister never did, but you know what I mean.

I went back to my homework, sitting on Daddy's swivel chair and using his desktop computer instead of my laptop. It wasn't really his anyway. The den served as the family room and if the kitchen was the heart of our home, the den could be called the soul. Or the other way around probably sounds better. Either way, we were a close family and spent most of our evenings together in that cozy room. I liked the internet and my parents liked watching television.

The den had large bay windows overlooking Mom's garden and the backyard. I used to sleep there when I'd been a little girl, curling up on the oddly shaped shelf surrounded on three sides by glass. Paula often teased me about being part cat, but it was comfortable, especially in the summer. In the winter I always used a thick quilt and a lot of pillows to protect me from the Minnesota weather. Even double-pane storm windows couldn't keep the cold out, but a cheery fire and a favorite teddy bear could. The den had a real fireplace and I sort of collected stuffed animals without really meaning to. I just kept getting more and more of them over the years and they were all over the house.

There were a lot of books too. One entire wall was nothing but a floor to ceiling bookshelf and as I mentioned, I'd always preferred being indoors. I read a lot and my interests were varied. We had the big screen television and the fancy Bose stereo with tiny, awesome speakers mounted in the corners. There were pictures of of us, family portraits and school pictures, our happy memories framed and hung with care. The carpeting was thick and if that wasn't enough, there was a large Persian rug beneath the overstuffed sofa and matching chairs.

The desk sat beneath ordinary, south facing windows and there wasn't much of a view. We'd decorated it with a half-dozen stained glass wind chimes, although they never did anything but look pretty because we never opened the window. I didn't mind. So far as rooms go, I loved that one. Whenever I dreamt of moving out of the house and into my adult life, I always brought the den with me.

Lauren surprised me as she walked into the room. She greeted me with a smiling, "Hi there." which seemed friendly enough.

"Hey," I replied, glancing over my shoulder.

Lauren wasn't a striking young woman like Paula, but I would certainly consider her pretty. Her blonde hair was wet from her bath, dark as it clung to her neck and recently combed. She'd traded her sweater for a pink t-shirt and it went well with her navy blue sweat pants. She'd opted for a casual look and I was glad she felt so comfortable. I think most people would have preferred to stay dressed like she'd been, meaning like a visitor instead of a houseguest.

"What are you doing?" she wondered, crossing the room to see for herself. She smelled like my peach bath beads, but I didn't mind. I'd bought them precisely because I liked the scent and I could always get more.

"Nothing," I said. "Just checking some Friendster pages."

"Your friends?" Lauren asked, gesturing towards a photograph of a dozen girls in cheer outfits. I was kneeling in the front row, smiling above my green and white pom-poms.

"The junior varsity cheer squad," I explained. "That's Kim, Marcia, Lisa, and..."

"That's you, isn't it?" she asked. "You've got a nice smile."

"Do I look fat?"

"What?"

"I'm kidding," I said, smiling up at her. "That's what people always say about fat girls, right? She's got a nice smile or whatever."

"I think they always say she's got a nice personality," Lauren replied with a scrunch of her nose. "But you do have an awesome smile, Jen."

"Thanks. So do you."

"We should start a club," she joked. "We could probably get your sister to join."

"Except we'd have to make her the president."

"Heh!" Lauren laughed and she had a soft, breathless sort of voice like some girls do. A bedroom voice? I liked it and she didn't have any sort of accent to my Midwest ears, but something about her surprised me. Or maybe that's too strong a word.

She stood nearly as tall as Paula, but didn't possess the same curvy shape. Lauren had smallish breasts and she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were poking against the pink cotton like bullets, although she didn't seem to realize it and I made a point of not staring. It wasn't easy. She had narrow hips, but I'd noticed her long legs and nice round butt earlier. The jeans she'd been wearing fit her like a coat of denim paint; the sweat pants were loose, but somehow more sexy, I thought.

Lauren wore pink socks.

"What?" she asked, smiling self-consciously as I stared at her feet.

"Huh?" I blinked at her and blushed, right on cue. "Sorry. I was just ... Sometimes my mind wanders. Sorry."

"It's okay," she said. "I thought you were looking at my feet."

"Uhhh..." I shrugged like an idiot. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink? I was going to make some tea or hot chocolate or something."

"Hot chocolate would be good," she decided. "I haven't had any in a long time."

"Really? I love that stuff."

We talked about hot chocolate as we headed towards the kitchen. It wasn't much of a conversation, you know, but I found myself enjoying Lauren's company. She struck me as a really open person. I don't know why, it's just the impression I had. Like she wouldn't let a little thing like being embarrassed stop her from saying whatever was on her mind. Paula could be like that sometimes, and me too, I suppose, but most people aren't -- At least not around me. It sounds dumb, but I'd already come to understand that a lot of my classmates wouldn't even talk to me. Not because they didn't like me, but because they found my good looks intimidating. They were embarrassed if I approached them and it could be awkward and frustrating, believe me.

Thankfully, Lauren didn't seem to have any problems like that, but she wasn't unattractive either. In fact, she looked pretty good as we sat in the kitchen waiting for the water to get hot. She leaned across the breakfast bar, cupping her chin with her right hand while we talked. Hunched over like that, her breasts were pulled downward and I had a perfect view down the loose neck of her t-shirt. My eyes would dart from her face to her tits, back and forth, but I couldn't help it. I could see the cone-like shapes drawn taut as her smallest movement would alternately hide and reveal them. Her tits were nothing like mine, but thin and somehow elongated, and strangely tempting.

"Your sister likes to talk about you," Lauren told me, cocking her head and frisking her damp hair.

"She does?" I smiled at that. "What does she say?"

"Good stuff," she replied. "Paula told me how pretty you are. She even showed me some pictures. You're kind of amazing in person."

"Amazing?" I giggled and rolled my eyes.

"Seriously," Lauren protested. "I bet your boyfriend is the cutest boy in school, huh?"

"Brad?" I sighed. "He's okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" She offered me a teasing, doubtful look. "Let me guess ... Quarterback?"

"He's a football player," I admitted, dragging my eyes off her tits. Again. Jeeze, what was wrong with me?

"And he probably doesn't know how lucky he is," she said, standing upright with a long stretch. Lauren brought both hands to her head, pulling her tits nearly flat as she combed her fingers through her hair.

"What do you mean?"

"Just that," she answered. "Boys never know what they have, even after it's gone."

"How do you know I'm breaking up with him?" I asked. That seemed to be what she meant, but I didn't know how or why.

"I didn't know," Lauren said. Her blue eyes widened, looking as surprised as I felt. "I'm sorry, Jen. I was just talking."

"Oh." I frowned, believing the girl and knowing I'd read too much into her words. "I haven't told anyone. Not even my best friends."

"I see."

"I sorta decided today, actually." I frowned at myself and shook my head. "Everybody's going to think I'm crazy for dumping him."

"Not me," Lauren said, and I had to smile at her.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I think you're doing the right thing."

"You don't even know him," I reminded her. "He might be the nicest guy in the world."

"I know you," she said, which I didn't completely get.

I made a helpless gesture. "And?"

"You deserve to be happy," Lauren explained. "If this Brad guy isn't doing it for you, well ... Find someone else. Right?"

"It isn't that easy," I sighed, turning off the stove. The tea kettle had started whistling and our cups were already waiting with spoons and Swiss Miss hot cocoa.

"It can't be that hard either," she said. "You're smart, beautiful, fun and interesting to talk to, and..."

"Yeah right." I showed her my tongue.

"Don't tease me," she warned in that husky voice of hers.

"I wasn't..."

Lauren licked her lips and I lost my train of thought completely. That's when I felt it. Like an electrical charge pulling us closer, invisible and untouchable and unmistakable.

"I think you're teasing me," I decided, clearing my throat and pouring hot water into our cups. It gave me something else to do besides stare at her and I needed to figure out what was happening.

Being hit on like that, if that's what Lauren was really doing, made me regard her from a different perspective. Boys had flirted with me, full grown men a couple times, but never a girl. Even when I'd been fifteen and desperate for some expression of my blooming sexuality, I hadn't noticed any interest from other girls. If Marcia or Lisa wanted to take our friendship to a different level, I probably would have agreed to at least try. Would I still? I felt more confident, but no less frustrated when it came to love and sex and just being with someone. Brad didn't do it for me, not at all, and here was this friend of my sister ... What did she want?

Boys flirted with me. Boys tried to kiss me and grope my tits and finger my pussy. Is that what Lauren was looking for? Was she just a wolf dressed in sheep clothes? It seemed a silly thought, kind of a paranoid, fearful idea that rose out of my own insecurity. I mean, I was seventeen and my life should have been perfect. The girls at school thought so. They wanted to be me, some of them. I'd heard them say things like, "I wish I could be her, just for one day." But my life wasn't perfect, it was just as confused and full of problems as any other teenage girl's.

Was she a lesbian? Or was she straight and I was a repressed lesbian who wanted to see things that weren't there? We stirred our hot chocolate, neither of us saying anything. I kept my head down, but lifted my eyes to look at her across the breakfast bar. Lauren was pretty, but not beautiful like my sister. She had a masculine quality, perhaps. I wasn't sure. I found it hard to get past her ice blue eyes and the smile playing at the corners of her wide mouth. I'd always imagined it would be easy to recognize a dyke. They wore flannel shirts and straight-leg jeans, sported bad haircuts, and didn't shave their underarms. Or did that describe half the girls in France?

Maybe not, because Lauren had to be a lesbian. Paula must have known, but my sister had a boyfriend that she loved, so what was Lauren doing here if they weren't together? Unless she thought I was gay. I mean, both of them. Paula thought I was queer because I'd told her about my weird feelings for my two best friends and so she'd brought Lauren to ... Do what? Test me? Have sex with me? Talk to me about how hard it was being a high school lesbian? Were we supposed to be friends or lovers or what?

So many questions. My mind went a mile a minute and got me nowhere.

"Where's Paula anyway?" I wondered, because it had been a couple hours since she'd gone upstairs for a bath.

"Oh. She went out," Lauren answered.

"What?"

She broke into an apologetic smile. "Something about seeing her boyfriend? I guess he lives around here."

"Craig?"

"Yeah, that's him," she agreed. "Paula said she'd be right back."

"He lives in White Bear Lake!" I told her.

"Okay." Lauren was still smiling, but she obviously didn't know anything about the local geography.

"That's completely on the other side of Minneapolis," I informed her. "It'll take her an hour to get there. At least!"

"She was pretty excited to see him."

"My parents are going to freak out," I said. "The whole reason she came home was to be with me. If they find out she took off..."

"She'll be back," Lauren said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "It's fine. You're a big girl, right? You don't need a babysitter."

"It's not babysitting," I said, and immediately regretted my snotty tone. "Sorry. I just didn't expect Paula to sneak out like that."

"When she comes back I'll hold her down and you can spank her," she said, giggling even as her hand roamed across my shoulder.

"Yeah." I rolled my eyes and didn't move away from her touch. "I don't think Paula's ever been spanked in her life."

"There's always a first time for everything," Lauren said, but we weren't talking about my sister anymore.

Her eyes were fixed on mine and the electricity had returned. I had goose bumps as she slipped her fingers into my hair, teasing the nape of my neck with her fingernails. I could hardly breathe and my tummy churned, my body felt ready to bolt with a rush of adrenalin. We were looking at each other, connected physically with her fingers caressing my neck, tightening gradually, pleasantly pulling me closer. Lauren had a large mouth, too big for her pointed chin and upturned nose, but her lips were moist and pink and soft as they touched mine. I close my eyes and everything seemed to stop for that brief eternity.

"Was that alright?" she asked, before I even realized our kiss had ended.

"Yeah," I cleared my throat, nodding. "I think so."

I opened my eyes, blinking into hers. The ice had melted and it felt like falling into a summer sky. Lauren hadn't let me go and the counter-top pinched my hip as I leaned across it. I ignored that small annoyance and brought my right hand to her cheek. She turned her head at my touch, like a kitten wanting to be stroked. She put her cheek in the palm of my hand and sighed. It felt so natural, so normal to do that, but still my heart raced and I had to remind myself to breathe. This was how it had felt masturbating in the dark next to my friends -- Exciting, forbidden, and desperate.

She didn't say anything, but only kissed me again and this time I let Lauren's tongue part my lips. French kissing over steaming cups of hot chocolate made for a very interesting moment. Brad never would have thought of trying that, which explains why he was the furthest thing from my mind just then. It had taken him two weeks to get his tongue into my mouth; it had taken Lauren two hours and we weren't stopping.

We made out in the den, sitting on the sofa and watching Freaky Friday on the Disney Channel. Actually, we hardly watched anything but each other. In addition to my halter top, I wore a pair of cut-off shorts, the tortured denim all frayed and nearly worn through in places. Lauren stroked my thighs while we kissed, but unlike Brad, she didn't go too high or too deeply between them. I didn't feel threatened and I could relax, you know? I could concentrate on the wonderful experience without constantly pushing her hands away.

Lauren didn't even try to cop a feel of my tits. Every now and then as she rubbed my shoulder or down my back I would feel a slight pressure against the side of my breast, but she never went all out and grabbed me. I liked that too. In fact, I loved the way she seemed to be teasing me. The expectation kept building. I waited for her to slide her hand under my top or bring her fingers closer to my humid crotch and test me. Maybe I even wanted Lauren to go a little faster, I'm not sure and I honestly don't know how I would have reacted. Would I have pushed her away and told her to slow down like I so often did with my boyfriend?

She left me with that question unanswered, breaking another long, urgent kiss with a deep-throated sigh. We were hot and breathless, a tangle of arms and legs entwined. I'd ignored her tits as well, although I'd managed to tease her much as Lauren had teased me. Just a bit of pressure with the heel of my palm against the side of her breast, pretending it to be entirely accidental and resisting the urge to cup her braless tits in my hands and squeeze. Her nipples must have been an inch long, I swear, and I would tug her t-shirt tightly against them as I rubbed her back. I wanted to kiss her tits, but I wasn't that bold and the idea that I could spoil everything frightened me.