Title: The Road Goes On Forever and the Party Never Ends…

Author: Harper

Email: Xfjnky2@yahoo.com

Brooke had done the unthinkable. She had skipped practice with the rest of the Glamazons, and was now engaged in a full-fledged search to try and find Sam. She’d done nothing but think all day, her mind unable to tear itself away from memories of the night before, and she found that she was rather ashamed. Sure, Sam had hurt her feelings with that insensitive little remark, but that was no excuse for the way she had treated her. She’d been so rough, so unfeeling, and the echo of the words that she had taunted the other girl with even as she brought her body to pleasure caused a flush of embarrassment and regret to creep up her cheeks. Sam had been so aloof today, so distant, and she knew, just knew, that she had wrecked whatever it was that they had between them, that her actions had brought it all to a screeching stop.

She had to find some way to fix things, some way to repair the damage that she had caused. Sam hadn’t gone home after school, because that was the first place that she had checked, which left her on a school-wide search for her erstwhile lover. It hadn’t taken her long to find Sam, but much to her dismay, she was with Lily. They’d been talking, Sam’s voice low and intense, and Brooke had listened unabashedly to the entire story, starting with her first realizations that she might be gay and all that had happened up until the present. In all the time that they’d been together, she hadn’t had confirmation that Sam had engineered the little drinking binge that had started the whole thing, but now she did. She hadn’t known how Sam felt about the whole thing, too afraid of having it end to actually talk about it, but the heartfelt words that poured out of the girl gave her cause to hope.

If pressed, Brooke couldn’t really tell you why they had been fighting either. It had just seemed like a shelter against the storm of the new feelings flowing between them, a consistency that was desperately needed in the sea of uncertainty in which they had found themselves. So, latching on to the only thing that was familiar, they fought, tearing into one another with a viciousness that had more of a bite to it than did the barbs of before. Those times, late at night, when there were no words between them, nothing but the touch of skin on skin and the quiet sounds of passion were like a different world, one completely disconnected from the one they inhabited during the day.

Brooke had flushed hot with embarrassment as Sam had haltingly revealed the events of the night before, even though they were highly censored for Lily’s benefit. She could remember every touch, every word, the wet jerk of Sam’s body against her hand as she taunted her. She was as relieved as she was frightened when she heard Sam admit that she had liked it, that she didn’t feel violated or forced, something that Brooke had feared. When she had admitted that she felt like what Brooke had said was true, that she did feel as if she belonged to the blonde, it was all Brooke could do not to rush in, to fall to her knees and beg forgiveness.

The complex of emotions that wound their way through Sam’s voice as she described what she felt when they made love, when she talked about all of the things that she would miss was almost too much for Brooke, and almost unknowingly, a single tear traced its way down her cheek. She’d hidden when Lily had rushed past her, leaving Sam alone to think about what exactly it all meant. Then, thrusting down all the uncertainty and doubt that crowded into her mind, she squared her shoulders, making her way into the room that now seemed so empty without the emotion that had filled it moments ago.

If Sam heard her approach, she didn’t give any indication. Instead, she sat there, eyes closed and head tilted back, lost in thought. For a moment, Brooke stopped to merely look at her, the fine lines of her face so beautiful in the sharp light coming through the windows that it nearly broke her heart. The lips that she adored were barely parted, glistening slightly as if they had recently been traced by a ruby red tongue. She wanted to kiss them, and felt her body moving forward almost without her permission until she was sure that Sam could feel the heat flowing off of her.

The presence behind her wasn’t Lily, of that Sam was certain. The light scent that drifted her way told her mind who it was beyond a shadow of a doubt, but she resolutely refused to open her eyes and verify what her senses told her. She didn’t know how to handle this situation, didn’t know how to look at Brooke after the conversation that she had just had. So, she didn’t, until she felt the light press of soft lips against her own, the contact more of a faint whisper of touch than anything else. Her eyes flew open, surprise etched over her features as she found herself staring directly into startlingly bright hazel eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Brooke said, her words no more than a whisper as she pulled Sam’s collar aside, bending to press a light kiss on the mark she had made on that fair skin.

Sam sat, shock keeping her body frozen. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, and as she had before her confession to Lily, she remained silent, letting the other person guide the interaction.

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” Brooke continued, kissing her way back up Sam’s neck before pressing another light kiss on her lips. She pulled away then, somehow aware that this conversation would be much easier if she managed to remove herself from the temptation of soft skin.

“I don’t want to fight with you either,” Sam whispered, surprised at the wonder in her voice. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to see Brooke standing before her in apology, to feel the silk of her skin during the light of day.

“We’ve got to talk about this, you know. What I did to you last night was wrong,” she began, her eyes falling to focus on the dark wood of the desk, afraid to see what was flashing through the dark eyes watching her intently.

“What I said yesterday was wrong. What you did last night was just a reaction to that. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want, though, Brooke, and I don’t want to see you beating yourself up over it. If I had said no, you would have stopped, and I knew that. I didn’t though, and you can’t blame yourself for what happened,” Sam replied, her cheeks burning bright red at the admission.

“The things I said…” Brooke continued weakly, daring a quick look up, surprised at the swirl of emotions she saw there.

“I’ll admit that we need to talk about that, Brooke,” Sam said, her voice gaining a little strength. “We need to figure out what it is we’re doing here. Is it just sex?”

Sam stopped, surprised at the plaintive note in her voice, almost as if she were begging Brooke to deny it.

“Oh no,” Brooke breathed, tears springing to her eyes. “Not for me.”

“Then what is it for you?” Sam asked, anxious and terrified at the same time. The answer to this particular question had more than a monumental bearing on what would happen after it.

“I don’t know,” Brooke began, frightened into denial until she saw the light seem to slowly seep out of Sam’s eyes. “I mean, I do know, but I don’t know, and I don’t know if… It’s just that I… think I may be falling in love with you.”

Well, that’s a lie if you ever told one, McQueen, Brooke sneered inwardly. You’re so far beyond falling that you’re already a great big splat on the concrete. The fall happened long ago, and you’re a coward for denying it.

“Oh, I… Oh… oh… oh… I… oh,” Sam sputtered, and Brooke turned away, aware of only one thing that could steal the words from her normally verbose companion. She didn’t feel the same way, and she didn’t know how to tell her.

“Its okay,” Brooke muttered, pulling away so that she was standing, back turned and arms folded across her chest, the distance of two feet between them now seeming like an impassable chasm. “I’ll just go now, and we can forget this ever happened. We’ll just go back to the way things were before, or not. Its your call.”

“Brooke, wait,” Sam called, jumping up from her chair, startled out of the trance she had fallen into at the bitter tones of the blonde’s voice. “Its not like that.”

“Not like what?” Brooke asked, unable to keep some of the acid that was eating away at her from creeping into her voice.

“I just didn’t think you’d actually say it,” Sam whispered, moving closer slowly, almost as if Brooke were a wild, untamed animal that she wasn’t sure how to approach. “I think, no, I know, that I love you. I just didn’t think that you felt the same way. I thought I was just, you know, convenient, someone that you’d have until you found something new and exciting. Someone that you’d make do with until you could move on. An experiment, a phase…” And it was all rather painfully laid at the feet of the lanky blonde, a dark head bowed in front of her, twin tears searing down pale cheeks.

“How could you think that?” Brooke asked, wonder in her voice. Sam always seemed so sure, so self-confident, that she had never for a minute doubted that the brunette understood the power that she could wield so effortlessly over her.

“Well, I never really saw any indication otherwise,” Sam replied, and now her tone was harsh, angry almost.

“Like I did?” Brooke shot back, shaking her head in dismay when she realized where they were heading. “Look, I said I don’t want to fight anymore and I don’t. Its important that we work things out, that we figure out where we want to go from here, because if I’m going to have to nurse a broken-heart, I want to know now so that I can go ahead and get a jump on the self-pity phase, okay.”

“Please… self-pity and Brooke McQueen in the same sentence?” Sam scoffed, her eyes lightening in hue from anger to mischief. “The only self-pity I’ve ever seen you display is when you didn’t find out about that Donna Karen sale in time and Nicole managed to get all of this season’s hottest fashions before you.”

The blonde sighed. “I’m trying to have a serious moment here. Could you lay off with the sarcasm?”

“Sorry,” Sam muttered, unable to stop the wide grin that was spreading across her face, threatening to do some serious damage to muscles that hadn’t been used that way in quite some time.

“What’s that look for?” Brooke asked suspiciously, inwardly utterly charmed by the expression. Now that they had tentatively come to an agreement on the status of their relationship, and she felt that she could call it that now, she was free to enjoy all of the things that she had always found adorable about the brunette but that she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge before.

“I’m just really happy, okay,” she snapped playfully, observing the matching grin that spread across the face of her companion.

“You know, I was thinking that maybe we should, you know, since we’ve been… you know for a few months now, that we should, you know, go on a date or something. You know?” Brooke asked. This shouldn’t be so freaking hard, McQueen. You’ve seen her naked, for Chrissakes.

Sam was charmed, though she would only admit to it under extreme torture. A nervous Brooke was an incredibly adoreable Brooke. “Well,” she drawled, “it’s a good thing that I don’t love you strictly for your stellar vocabulary. You know?”

“Is that a yes or a no?” Brooke asked, narrowing her eyes threateningly.

“Yes, Brooke, I’d love to go out with you,” Sam said, her tone almost bored, though her eyes let her companion know that it was far from the truth. The return to banter, without the vitriol, took away some of the awkwardness that had seemed to overtake them during the more emotional outpouring of feelings that had preceded. “When?”

“Uh, how about this Friday?” Brooke offered, her mind now having to scramble to come up with plans. She’d never been on this side of dating before, and she found it was rather difficult. What would Sam want to do? Should they go out or stay in? Would Sam think she was expecting something if they stayed in? She didn’t want to stay in. This was their first date. They should go somewhere nice. Where could they go?

“Don’t you have a football game to cheer at this Friday?” Sam asked, slightly confused.

“Oh, yeah, I do,” Brooke said, the confusion caused by the myriad dating landmines now facing her showing through in her voice. Then, brightening, she looked at Sam, an expectant look brightening her features. “You’re going to come watch me, right?”

The brunette barely stifled a groan. Love she could handle. Being the supportive girlfriend in the stands at a football game? “Uh, of course,” she muttered, rewarded instantly by a quick kiss and a bright smile.

“Oh, and that’s another thing,” Brooke added, as if suddenly struck by inspiration. “I don’t think that we should… you know… anymore.”

For a moment, Sam thought that was funny. The girl who had just last night been whispering in explicit detail how she was going to fuck Sam couldn’t even bring herself to say the word sex when they were conversing in the light of day. Humor quickly faded, however, when she realized the import of that particular statement.

“We can’t have sex anymore?” Sam almost shouted before remembering where they were and toning down her voice. “If this is dating, Brooke, then I don’t think that I want to do it. You can’t mean that, can you?” I’m whining, Sam realized, unable to stop herself. I sound like a horny little teenage boy.

“Oh, well, I didn’t mean forever,” Brooke said, slightly amused at the panic her statement had caused. “I just meant not for a little while. This is like starting over. We’re not going to forget everything that brought us here, because believe me, I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried, but we are going to put it behind us. If we do this, we’re going to do this right. We’re going to have a first date, and a first date kiss, and when we do decide to… you know… again, then it won’t be us sneaking into each other’s room in the middle of the night, not saying a word to one another. Well, it might be us sneaking into each other’s room, but its not going to be like it was before.”

“Oh,” Sam said, her brow scrunched, her tone somewhat deflated. “How long do you think all this is going to take?”

“I don’t know. Don’t tell me that you can’t control yourself, Sammy,” Brooke teased, her eyes lighting up as they traced the flush that crept up the brunette’s cheeks.

“I can control myself,” Sam grumbled. “I’m just not sure why I should have to.”

“Because what we had before was good, but it wasn’t real,” Brooke replied seriously. “If we’re going to have a real relationship, then its not going to be based on something hidden and dirty. Its going to be based on honesty and truth and openness.”

“Honesty and truth and openness, you say. So we’re going to tell Mom and Mike, right?” Sam asked, baiting the other girl.

“Oh, God no,” Brooke said, aghast. “Honesty has its limits.”

Sam McPherson was monumentally unhappy. She was sitting at a football game beside a seriously confused Harrison, convinced that she could quite possibly be… whipped. She wasn’t entirely sure that being here didn’t go against every moral principle that she had. But, when Brooke had stopped by her room clad in that little cheerleading outfit to plant a rather searing kiss on her, letting her know in no uncertain terms just how happy she was that Sam was going to go, she couldn’t back down. So now, here she sat, looking rather despondently out at the field, vaguely aware of the annoying tune that the marching band kept repeating.

“So, now why are we here again?” Harrison asked, still vaguely confused himself. He wasn’t adverse to going to football games. There were lots of people, especially the kind clad in tight little cheerleading uniforms, to stare at. He’d never heard Sam voice an interest in going, however, and had in fact been the recipient of more than one blistering tirade against the whole concept. Something about how they were only showcases for populars, yet another chance to publicly flaunt something that came to them solely because of genetics and a large bank account than because of anything else. Something about how they furthered the lines of division between social strata, with the glaring separation between the haves and the have nots on display for all to see. So, accordingly, the reason behind their attendance was a mystery to him, one that he figured he might as well unravel.

“Because we have to be here,” Sam ground out, not wanting to get into details. “Look, Harrison, I know that you’re content to sit and ogle the cheerleaders, so why don’t you do that and let me brood in peace, and together we’ll make it through this, okay?”

“I’m just not sure that I understand why we have to be here? Is this some type of punishment? Is your mom making you come for some reason? I don’t understand,” he said helplessly, his eyes drifting away to watch a rather impressive Herkie.

“I’m working on a story,” she said, suddenly improvising. “It’s a deep undercover story, and to find out what I need to know, I have to be here. I can’t tell you anything about it. The material is too sensitive.”

“Oh.” He was satisfied with that. Sam did some pretty strange things for stories, and if the only help that she required from him this time was for him to sit in the stands at a football game and drool over girls in short skirts, particularly one long-legged blonde in a short skirt, then he could do that. “Hey look, isn’t that Lily?”

Before Sam could stop him, Harrison had stood up, waving Lily over toward them. She approached cautiously, making her way carefully through the bleachers until she was standing in front of them. Smiling tentatively at Sam, she sat down. She wanted to ask the brunette why she was there, but the firm line of her jaw precluded any questions, and she really didn’t want to get cause a scene.

“Hey Lily,” Harrison said cheerfully. “What are you doing here?”

“Playing the supportive girlfriend,” she muttered, and Sam could sympathize. Apparently Lily liked it just about as much as she did. But, the thing she had going with Josh was new, and it never did hurt to show that one was supportive. That much she knew first-hand. “What are you two doing here?”

“I’m just here with Sam,” Harrison said with a shrug of the shoulders. “She’s here doing some kind of research for some undercover story. Won’t tell me more than that.”

“Undercover story, huh?” Lily asked, unable to stop herself. The glare that she got in response was enough to stem any more teasing remarks, however, and it wasn’t until Harrison headed off to the concession stand during halftime that she was able to get Sam to herself.

“So, what are you really do here?” Lily ventured, hoping that Sam wouldn’t bite her head off with all of these witnesses.

“Same thing you are,” the other girl replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes skyward. “I’m playing the supportive girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend, eh?” Lily asked, scooting over slightly to give her friend a slight bump with her shoulder. “I take it you had a little talk then?”

“Actually, she showed up right after you left,” Sam confided, looking around to make sure that no one was paying them any attention. “We’re… dating now.”

“Ah, big step,” Lily commiserated, nodding sympathetically. “Well, she’s a fast worker, that’s for sure. You didn’t even come to these things to play supportive girlfriend for George.”

“Look, Lily…” Sam began, her tone serious.

“Ah, stop right there. These lips are sealed,” Lily said lightly, preempting the plea by pulling an imaginary zipper closed across her mouth. “I’m not telling until you two do.”

Harrison returned, and all conversation stopped, aside from the few more mundane things that they managed to bring up. None too soon, the game was over, and Sam almost felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. Almost. But, she had gone this far, and she wasn’t going to chicken out now. She was going to see this through, and hopefully have a very surprised, very happy girlfriend on her hands because of it.

“Uh, Harrison, why don’t you head on home. Lily said she’d give me a ride,” Sam said, drawing a rather startled glance from Lily, who didn’t remember mentioning any such thing.

“But I’m sure that she’ll have to wait on Josh,” Harrison replied, slightly confused. “I can run you home. Its no problem. That way you won’t have to hang around here any longer than necessary.”

“Thanks, Harrison, but Lily and I need to talk. You know, girl talk,” Sam said vaguely, hoping that it would be enough to scare Harrison off. Thankfully, it was.

“Oh, well if its that, then I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to interfere in girl talk,” he said, slightly jumpy. It was true. He’d been involved in girl talk before, and he wasn’t quite sure that he liked it. Things always seemed to veer off into something that was incredibly embarrassing for him, and it just wasn’t cool to faint dead away at the mere mention of the word tampon. He knew from experience.

“Still hasn’t gotten over the menstrual cramp talk, I see,” Sam said sarcastically, watching Harrison scamper down the bleachers.

“Apparently not. Now, what’s this about me taking you home?” Lily asked. “Because I can do girl talk, but I’m not sure if Josh can.”

“Oh,” Sam said, waving her hand dismissively, “I don’t really need a ride home. Well, yet, anyway. I just thought I would, you know, wait around and see if I could catch up with Brooke. You know?” Oh God, it’s a disease and its catching. Being around that much blondeness is shaving away IQ points, and I’ve been too caught up to even realize it.

Lily giggled, causing Sam’s scowl to deepen a little further. “I see what’s going on here. You’re planning on getting girlfriend brownie points. Not to mention the obvious, but didn’t you get enough of those just by being here tonight? Besides, you’ve already got the curvaceous cheerleader regularly visiting your boudoir. No need to be piling on the extras.”

Sam mumbled something, brows drawing together in an even deeper scowl, and Lily looked at her cautiously.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said,” Sam replied huffily, “that Brooke has decided that we’re not going to sleep together any more now that we’re dating.”

“Oh,” Lily replied, slightly confused. “But, doesn’t that seem a little strange to you? I mean, it makes even more sense to sleep together now that you are dating. Wait, that didn’t really come out right. What I mean is…”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Sam grumbled. “But, we’re making a ‘new beginning’, and that means that we’re going to go about this the ‘right way’, which means no more hanky-panky for a while.”

Even if Sam’s tone of voice hadn’t displayed her unhappiness with this little turn of events, then the quotation marks that she’d been making with her fingers that in actuality resembled claws more than anything else, probably would have tipped her off.

“Oh, I see. Sexually frustrated much?”

Eyes that resembled dark, smoldering coals swung her way, and Lily began to think that perhaps she should have kept that little observation to herself.

“It’s hell, Lily. Pure torture, that’s what it is. I see her every day, and she apparently thinks that this starting over thing doesn’t preclude touching at all because she does it all the time. Touch me, that is. When she’s walking by in the kitchen, when we’re sitting on the couch watching tv. Its driving me insane. And to top it off, tomorrow is our ‘first date,’” she said, the claws returning, “and I’m so nervous that I can’t stand it. What if this dating thing doesn’t work out? Maybe we should have left things like they were before. I mean, it wasn’t so bad, was it? It could turn out that we don’t get along, that we can’t interact in any other way than through anger or something involving nudity, and then where will we be?”

“Sam, hon, calm down,” Lily said, her voice soothing. “I think you’re just a tad bit too worked up over this. It’ll work out just fine. You obviously already have the physical chemistry thing going for you. I’m sure that between the both of you, you can come up with enough things to talk about to keep dinner conversation from stagnating. And, this is just Brooke, the girl you’ve known all your life. Nobody scary, nobody unknown.”

“But its not just Brooke,” Sam whined, wanting to kick herself in the head when she heard the way her words came out. “Its so much more than Brooke, can’t you see? Its… it’ll break my heart if we can’t make this work. If I can’t make this work.”

“Look, my friend, this is a date and not the end of the world,” Lily replied, a little steel in her voice. The girl moping beside her was not the Sam McPherson that she knew, and this obviously called on her to run a little reality check. “Whether or not you have the best first date the world has ever seen or whether its just okay, things will work out. You both obviously have too much invested in this thing to let it go. There’s no need to worry about this like you are. I can guarantee that if this is the attitude that you take with you tomorrow night, then its not going to go like you want it to. You’ve got to buck up, gotta take charge, gotta stop wallowing in this vat of self-pity and go out there and get’em, tiger.”

Sam looked at Lily, suddenly a little frightened. Maybe she’d been to one too many football games, or maybe Josh was rubbing off. If the petite brunette slapped her on the ass, then they were going to have to have a talk about a possible career in sports. As it was, she didn’t quite picture Lily with bad track shoes, polyester shorts, and a whistle hanging around her neck, but the motivational speech was something straight out of Knute Rockne’s mouth. Maybe she was channeling him or something.

“Ah, they’re finished,” Lily said, her tone lightening slightly. Josh was being pushed out of the door, his back to them at the moment as they relived some highlight of the game. The cheerleaders were making their way out in small groups, and Sam felt her throat tightening almost painfully as they drew closer. Lily had left her standing there alone, having tugged Josh away from his testosterone-laden football cronies.

“Spam, slightly misplaced, aren’t we?” Nicole nearly hissed, the first one of that little group to spot her. Ignoring the looks of malice being directed her way, she snuck a look at Brooke, the bright smile making its way across the other girl’s face reward enough for having to dip her toe into the snake pit.

“Nice roots, Nicole. I wasn’t aware that you were sharing stylists with Justin Timberlake now,” Sam shot back, only partially chagrined that she had had to admit to knowing the lead singer of N’Sync’s name for that particular jab. The scowl that she received right before the blonde whipped out a compact was particularly satisfying, however, and she snickered.

“Very funny, Spam,” Nicole shot back, snapping the compact closed when she had inspected her coiffure enough to satisfy herself that she did not, indeed, have roots showing. “Now, again, you’re in my presence why?”

“Brooke said she’d give me a ride home. Didn’t you Brooke?” Sam replied, smiling sweetly, ignoring the stares of death being directed her way.

“Sure did. You ready to go?” the blonde asked brightly, and for a moment Sam questioned her sanity. This was who she had fallen in love with? The fates were cruel. She, Sam McPherson, defender of the underdog, righteous protector of the rights of the little man, loather of all things trendy, stylish, and popular, was dating a cheerleader. The head cheerleader. Who happened to be blonde. And cute. And perky. And adorable and bubbly on occasion. Oh, she was such a traitor.

“You didn’t have to stick around, you know,” Brooke said some time later, her hazel eyes fastened on the back of a dark head. Sam was staring morosely out the window, watching the passing scenery with disinterest.

“I know,” she replied, turning slightly. “But I wanted to.” It was the truth, mostly. She hadn’t really wanted to be at the game in the first place, but since she had gone, the least she wanted to do was see Brooke afterward. The little blip that she caused on Nicole’s radar was worth it, even though she wasn’t completely comfortable with the suspicious looks the viper had been shooting her way.

“I’m glad you did,” Brooke replied, and her voice had turned slightly husky, seductive.

“No teasing, remember Brooke,” Sam said with a sigh, feeling her belly coil as the tone washed over her.

“What? I’m not teasing you?” she replied, her honeyed tones still moving across Sam in that low, seductive register.

“You know what it does to me when your voice is like that,” Sam muttered, feeling a slight headache coming on.

“Like what?” Brooke asked, slightly confused.

“You know, when your voice gets all soft and slippery, and slides over my skin like warm silk.” I can’t believe I just said that.

“Oh,” the blonde replied, slightly stunned. “I didn’t know I did that.”

“Please. You can’t tell me that you don’t notice it, all warm and smooth like melted honey.”

“You mean, kind of like your voice is now?” Brooke husked, fully appreciating what her voice must do to Sam if she had anything near the reaction the blonde was having at that moment.

“God, Brooke,” Sam moaned, slumping down into her seat. “I’d give anything to kiss you right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” was the reply, Sam not really thinking about the implications of that particular promise before letting it slip.

Checking to make sure that the street they were on was deserted, Brooke pulled over, throwing the car into park before reaching over, drawing Sam’s head to hers for a sizzling, and much too short, kiss.

“Wonderful. You’re going shopping with me tomorrow,” Brooke said triumphantly, a self-satisfied smile making its way across her face as she pulled away, throwing the car back into gear.

“Hey now, that’s no fair,” Sam protested, still trying to pull her mind back from the haze it had been surrounded in ever since she felt Brooke’s lips touching hers. “You tricked me.”

“Nope. You agreed, fair and square, and now you have to pay up, McPherson,” Brooke said calmly, pulling back onto the street and starting on their trip once more.

“But… I don’t want to go shopping with you. You’ll somehow try to turn it into a venture to mold me into one of your little cookie-cutter, overly fashion conscious freakazoid friends. If you can’t accept me for who I am, and that includes what I choose to wear, then… then…” Sam broke off, not a little panic in her voice.

“Sammy, Sammy… must you always think the worst of me? I just thought that we could find you something to wear for our date tomorrow night, and that I could maybe get to play the voyeur by putting you in all the outfits that I’ve imagined peeling off of you in my dreams,” Brooke replied lightly, completely ignoring the little temper tantrum that had been thrown her way.

“Oh,” came the unbelievably stellar reply. “Well, I could maybe go shopping…”

“Good then. It’s settled. Stores open at 10:00, you know. You’d better be up and ready, because tomorrow is going to be an exciting day.”

This might just be her own personal version of hell. Brooke was dragging her along, a death grip on her hand keeping her stumbling a few paces behind the excited blonde as she chattered away, seemingly not noticing the specter of death she was hauling along behind her. In protest over what she was slowly beginning to regard as a deadly trap, she had worn one of the oldest pairs of jeans she could find, both knees torn out and back pockets frayed. Instead of one of her normal tees, she had chosen to wear a tank she had ordered off the internet a couple of weeks back. It was black, the only thing disrupting the unrelenting color was the word “Girlfiend” printed at the top in ragged silver letters. She had decided, after a few weeks of indulging in illicit sexual encounters with her soon-to-be stepsister, that if she was going to accept this new sexual identity, then she was going to do so whole-heartedly. That had precipitated a buying spree at the store on PlanetOut.com, and she felt that if she was going to be pulled along on the shopping trip from hell, then she was going to do so in passive protest, at the very least.

Brooke had taken one look at the outfit, and Sam’s scowl, and merely shrugged.

“I like the baby butch look on you. You pull it off rather well,” she’d said after a minute of thoughtful consideration, grinning mirthfully when Sam merely deepened her scowl and tromped out of the door. The entire situation had all been a little surreal on the drive over. Now, though, they were actually contemplating a row of stores, Saks apparently the glowing pinnacle in a land of lesser beings, and Sam could almost feel the breathless anticipation emanating from her companion. With a sigh, resigned to being lead around all day, she merely stayed back, opening her mouth only when spoken to directly, soon realizing that most of the queries were hypothetical and that she wasn’t actually being asked so that she could respond anyway.

Sam had also quickly learned that she was something of a living, breathing mannequin. Every once in a while Brooke would pull something off a rack, hold it up to her form, scowl appraisingly for a moment or two, and then either shove it back on the rack with an unsatisfied huff or add it to the growing pile of clothes that she had draped over her arm. The brunette sincerely hoped that all of those weren’t for her to try on, because if they were, then she would have to give serious thought to performing hari kiri in the food court.

“Oh harbinger of eternal doom?” Brooke called out, her voice sing-song, the utter happiness of being surrounded by such a multitude of fabrics and colors taking her to a new level, “Time to try on the first round.”

“First round?” Sam asked weakly, eyeing the mound of clothes that the deceptively strong blonde was carting around with her with something akin to horror.

“Hurry up. Maybe we can get one of those handicap dressing rooms, so we’ll both fit.”

“There’s something decidedly wrong about that statement,” Sam muttered, feeling her hand once again manage to make its way into that of the vice grip otherwise known as her girlfriend, being pulled along through a multitude of racks.

Once there, Sam resolutely refused to use the handicap dressing room, so she and Brooke found themselves crowding into another one, still quite roomy, though not as much as the other one would have been. The blonde pouted only momentarily, this the first dark pall to fall on her glorious day of consumer materialism.

“Strip,” she commanded, shrugging it off as she devoted herself to dividing the clothes onto separate hangers, her brow furrowed in concentration as she picked apart the ones she had chosen for herself and the ones she had chosen for Sam. When she had finished, she turned around somewhat expectantly, only to find a still fully clothed Sam standing there, hands shoved in her pockets, staring sheepishly at the floor.

“Sam?”

“Its just that, well… you know…” Sam trailed off, using Brooke’s favorite catch-all phrase.

“Oh please. We’re soon-to-be sisters. What’s a little skin between us?” Brooke teased, watching the adorable spread of pink take over Sam’s normally pale cheeks.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered, pulling her hands out of her pockets with a sigh. Not looking at Brooke, she kicked off her shoes, shucking her jeans and pulling her tank over her head, almost having to physically restrain herself from not reaching up to cross her arms shyly over her chest, even though she had made sure this morning that she wore cute, matching underwear. And, she kept telling herself, its not like she hasn’t seen me before.

Brooke had to restrain herself from gasping. The sinfully delightful body now on display for her, ice blue satin teasing her with its hidden treasures, was attached to a face that was adorably shy, and she felt her heart melt.

“Sammy… I know I’ve told you before how beautiful you are,” she whispered, not caring if there was anyone in the stalls that could hear them.

“No,” Sam replied truthfully, her voice stark.

“You are. So very, very beautiful. There’s absolutely nothing for you to be ashamed of, so look at me, okay, and not the floor.” It might even have been a romantic moment, if they hadn’t been standing in a dressing room at Saks.

Grudgingly Sam looked up, the appreciative look in Brooke’s eyes accompanying her words perfectly, and she relaxed slightly, unaware of how tense she had been until she felt muscles unclench.

“Right then. Now, which pile is mine?” she asked nervously, wanting to move past their little moment. With a bright grin Brooke pointed at the one that was the larger of the two, by a wide margin. “That one.” Sam soon realized that it took considerably longer to try clothes on than it did to pick them out, and it wasn’t long before her already barely concealed temper started to flare. She felt like Barbie’s evil twin as Brooke speculatively divided the clothes that she modeled into maybes and definites, though Sam had absolutely no intention of buying anything. They seemed to be multiplying, and if that wasn’t enough, the overly helpful saleslady would drop by on occasion, bringing more things that she apparently thought Sam should try on. She wasn’t sure, but was suspicious that Brooke and the saleslady were working in collusion. During one conversation she thought she’d heard the words “poor little orphan” and “Daddy’s platinum card” in the same sentence, and was consequently quite worried.

She was nearing her boiling point. She was standing in a pair of jeans that were almost frayed enough to look like the pair that she had come in with, though these rode so low on her hips that she was afraid that she’d be guilty of plumber’s butt if she bent over, looking down at the shirt that she had squeezed into. A soft, pale pink extremely tight tank top proclaiming in some type of sparkly something that she was a “Bad Girl” covered her torso, falling a good three inches short of covering her midriff, and she thought that she had had almost all that she could take.

“Brooke, there is no way in hell that I would ever wear this,” she grumbled, looking down in disgust as the sparkly lettering.

“Why not?” Brooke pouted. Okay, so maybe she had gone a little far. It was just too much fun watching Sam move through the pile of clothes. And besides, those pants did amazing things for her ass.

“Look at it?” Sam replied almost hysterically, gesturing wildly at the front of her body. “I can’t wear this to school!”

“How about at home?” Brooke offered, moving to stand much closer than inspection of the outfit warranted. With a wicked smile, she sank down to her knees, running the hot flat of her tongue across the exposed skin of Sam’s belly. “I can think of all kinds of uses for it.”

“Jesus,” Sam hissed, jumping back. “Get up.”

Brooke pouted, but stood nonetheless. Looking at the outfit appraisingly, she nodded. “You’re right. The shirt has to go, but those pants stay.”

Sam was so exhausted by the time her trying on spree was over that she didn’t even get to properly observe Brooke’s. Besides, the blonde had much fewer outfits to go through, and seemed to be quite the pro at this dressing room changing thing, moving in and out of outfits almost before Sam could trace her eyes down the length of that lean, lanky body.

When it was all said and done, Sam was the proud new owner of outfits that she was vaguely sure she would never wear, and a pair of shoes that she actually did like. She was tired, she was cranky, and she felt like Juan Valdez’s pack mule, both of her hands loaded down with shopping bags and a garment bag swung precariously over her shoulder. More than relieved when she saw the car in the parking lot, she ran to it, the image wavering slightly like a mirage in the desert, the hot steel comforting against her palms as she tried to pry open the door.

“Sam, my remote doesn’t work from all the way back here,” Brooke called out, resisting the urge to laugh.

Then, realizing that if she didn’t hurry that the brunette just might use the heel of the new Prada shoes she’d whined about until Sam had agreed to let her charge them to smash right through the window. Once safely ensconced in the car, bags piled up in the back, Sam felt her lungs start to function normally again. She wasn’t quite sure, but was mildly convinced that she might have just suffered a panic attack. That was fine with her. If she developed some type of irrational phobia about going to the mall that caused her to hyperventilate and pass out, then it would provide the perfect reason to do all of her shopping online.

“Come on Sam, it wasn’t that bad,” Brooke sighed, wondering if she should nominate her companion for an Emmy. “And its only 3:00 in the afternoon. Five hours in there didn’t kill you, drama queen.”

“Easy for you to say. I was worried about going into anaphylactic shock. How would you explain that to my Mom and Mike?” Sam muttered. Okay, so maybe her mad dash to the car had been a bit overboard. Nothing wrong with a little overacting. She’d seen people get Oscars for performances that weren’t half as good.

“No dying until after our first date. After that, its up to you.”

“Le petite mort,” Sam murmured, cutting sly eyes to her companion.

“Not on the first date, unless its self-induced,” Brooke muttered back, and Sam glanced at her, a mixture of confusion and grudging admiration on her face. The blonde noticed. “Didn’t think I’d know what you meant, did you? What have I told you about your preconceived stereotypical notions? They’ll only get you into trouble.”

“What did I mean?” Sam asked mischievously, one brow arching as she took in the slightly annoyed look on Brooke’s face.

“I believe you were referring to orgasm, using a term coined by the French which translates into ‘the little death’, referring to, I suppose, the almost heart-stopping intensity of climax,” Brooke shot back, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel in agitation. She hated it when the brunette insinuated that her intellectual skills were lacking.

“Heart-stopping intensity, eh?” Sam grinned cockily.

“You tell me. If memory serves me correctly, you were the one left panting on her hands and knees on the floor just a few short days ago,” Brooke replied flippantly.

Sam scowled again. She hated to be reminded of just how much power Brooke held over her when it came to matters sexual. And as for the reference to their last encounter… well, that was disturbing in and of itself. No way would she ever admit just how much she had enjoyed seeing that side of Brooke.

“Sorry,” the blonde muttered, slightly contrite. “Didn’t mean to bring that up again.”

“So where are we going tonight anyway?” Sam asked a moment later, breaking the silence that had fallen between the pair.

“It’s a surprise,” Brooke replied, waggling an eyebrow. “Just wear something trendy, yet casual, and meet me downstairs at 7:00, okay?”

“Think the parental units will notice anything strange when we leave together?” Sam asked, a hint of nervousness creeping into her tone. If there was one thing she didn’t want, it was having her Mom find out that she was dating Brooke. How awkward would that make things?

“Nah. If they ask, we can just say that I’m dropping you off at Carmen’s. No need to make up any elaborate stories.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that a story?” Sam queried.

“Yeah,” her companion replied, “but not an elaborate one.”

If she had been forced to put a name to what she was feeling, Sam thought that she might have chosen extreme anxiety. It was 6:45, and she was almost preternaturally aware of the sounds coming from the bathroom that separated her room from Brooke’s, the clinking of unidentifiable toiletries, the occasional splash of running water muted sounds that the other girl was preparing for their date. She’d taken a shower much earlier, spending far more time on her hair that she could ever remember, agonizing over which shade of eyeshadow she should use until she recognized how silly the whole thing was. Brooke knew what she looked like, and no amount of make-up or styling foam was going to change her appearance drastically enough to surprise the blonde. Though, she did have to admit, her hair did look particularly good that night, the dark locks framing her face in a gleaming fall.

Feeling slightly hypocritical, she had worn the jeans that Brooke had picked out for her earlier that day. Sam was no fool, though, and she wasn’t going to let a little thing like contempt for the shackles of fashion get in her way. She’d seen the way the blonde had appraised her ass, and if the tongue swipe to her abdomen wasn’t reason enough to wear them, then the spark in those hazel eyes as they’d checked out her derriere was.

Picking out a top was much harder, and if her date hadn’t actually been with Brooke, then she might have caved and asked the blonde for her opinion. As it was, she was relying on her own opinion, and hoped that a return to the basics wouldn’t send her astray.

So, she’d picked out a rather snug, long-sleeved v-necked sweater, its deep red color complimenting her dark features nicely if she did say so herself. It might not be haute couture, but it didn’t clash and if she didn’t continually keep it tugged down, then it rode up to bare a strip of her midsection. That look had worked well for her that afternoon in the dressing room, and she wasn’t above shamelessly flaunting it again.

A quiet knock on her door startled her out of her reverie, and she looked up, hoping desperately that this wasn’t her mother come to have some type of heart-to-heart. She didn’t have time at the moment for parental bonding.

“Hey,” a voice called out softly, the door slowly swinging inward, and she relaxed when she recognized the blonde’s tone. “Its 7:00 and I noticed that you haven’t gone downstairs yet.”

“Just doing the last minute freak out thing,” Sam replied wryly. “You know, do I look alright, should I change, do these pants make my hips look fat, will she like it.”

Brooke stepped into the room fully, smirking a little at the thought of Sam going through pre-date jitters. She smiled at brunette’s appearance, thinking that she looked like classic Sam, understated and darkly beautiful, and wondered for a moment how the other girl could ever doubt her appeal.

“Yeah, well, you look great and I have reservations that we’ll be late for unless you drag your butt downstairs, and a lovely butt it is, I might add,” Brooke replied, her lids drooping slightly as she walked toward a fidgeting Sam.

“You’re so beautiful,” the brunette breathed, taking in the vision approaching her, only vaguely aware of the non sequitur. “Maybe I should change, put on something a little more… I don’t know…”

Dark chocolate eyes were tracing her from her feet up, spending an inordinate amount of time on the long expanse of bare, tanned leg that ended abruptly at the base of a plain black skirt. A pale pink button down shirt, tailored and made of some type of wispy, satiny fabric was tucked into it, the stretch of cloth accenting the blonde’s flat belly, the curve of her hips.

“I’m glad you approve. And, I happen to like you just the way you are,” was the whispered reply, and Sam moved forward slightly, her eyes fixated on pale pink lips.

“We should be going. Reservations, you say? Must be somewhere fancy. Are you sure I’m not underdressed?”

“Nowhere fancy, just a place in the Hills. I wanted to get far enough away from here to not have to worry about having my time with you interrupted,” Brooke confided, walking backward toward the door. She noticed Sam’s intense fixation on her lips, and was quite firm on the fact that her carefully applied lipstick would not be smudged before they even left the house.

They made it out of the house without incident, their parents apparently not concerned enough about their simultaneous departure to mention it. The drive to the restaurant was unbearably long, but the wait short when they finally got there. Sam was vaguely impressed by the place, which was shooting for that ever-so-cool slightly understated trendy look, with waiters who looked like actor wannabes whizzing around, reeling off the night’s specials with deceptive ease.

“I don’t think I would ever have the desire to try seared halibut in a tangy mango chutney sauce garnished with sun-dried tomato paste and organically grown thyme,” Sam said with a shudder when their blonde television extra cut-out departed the table. “How can you even make a paste out of sun-dried tomatoes. Aren’t they dry? I would think that would inherently defeat the purpose of a sauce.”

“Iron Chef I’m not,” Brooke said with a small laugh, amused by the look of utter revulsion on her companion’s face. “I’m afraid that you’ll get no answers on that one from me.”

“And enough of disturbing featured entrée talk anyway. I’m on my first date with an extremely beautiful woman, and if I have my way, sun-dried tomatoes will not figure into the night in any way, shape, form or fashion. Unless you have a fetish that has remained nameless until now, in which case, I could be persuaded to change my mind,” Sam murmured, pleasantly surprised at the hint of blush that trekked its way across Brooke’s cheeks.

“Such a charmer. If I had known that the way to stop the vicious cycle of hatred and bitterness was by simply dating you, I’d have done it long ago,” Brooke teased, shifting slightly in her chair, trying to ignore the effects that Sam’s dark gaze were having on her rate of respiration.

“Yeah, well, unresolved sexual tension does tend to make one rather cranky,” Sam admitted.

“I don’t think that the unresolved part had anything to do with it. We’d found a way to resolve it quite efficiently, and it only made matters worse,” the blonde said, a hint of sarcasm coloring her words. “What we really needed to do was quit ignoring our feelings. Things started looking up only after that.”

“Denial, unresolved sexual tension… It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I’m sitting here in this ever so chic restaurant with all signs pointing to a pleasant evening to be had by all.”

And so the conversation progressed. They eventually managed to move on to other things, the mutual admiration society that they had going falling to the wayside mid-way through the meal. It was, in all, a very pleasant time. Sam found herself admitting things to Brooke that she never would have fathomed telling the blonde, not because they were too personal but because she would never have pictured the other girl as interested in them until that night. Childhood dreams, embarrassing moments, first crushes were all traded, and despite any fears that she might have had, Sam found herself enjoying it.

When the check arrived, Sam reached for it, only to have it snatched away by a slightly annoyed Brooke.

“I asked you out,” she said, only slightly aware of the bemused expression being directed their way by the waiter. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to make you pay, do you? I’m not that lousy of a date.”

With a resigned sigh, Sam gave in, gesturing magnanimously for Brooke to carry on, a regal expression on her face. The waiter watched it all with a smile. He was a romantic at heart, and young puppy love was always so cute to watch. Besides, the angsty looking brunette was wrapped so tightly around that blonde’s little finger that it was doubtful that she was going to ever manage to pull herself free. If she ever figured it out, there would undoubtedly be hell to pay. It really was completely adorable.

Once back in the car, Brooke sat, idly tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she contemplated what to do next. She hadn’t really made any plans beyond dinner, everything her mind coming up with seeming too incredibly corny or cliché, and now she found herself completely without a plan. Realizing that Sam was looking at her expectantly, she sighed, letting her head plunk back against the head-rest.

“I don’t know what to do now, Sam,” she admitted. “Dinner was as far as I got in my planning, and to be honest, after that I was clueless. Am clueless, as in I don’t know what to do now.”

“Brooke, can I be honest with you?” Sam asked, somewhat unnecessarily, since she doubt that the blonde would say no, that she would insist on Sam not being honest with her.

“Uh, yeah,” was her reply, and the brunette had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She had known it was a stupid question. There was no need to have that fact thrown back in her face.

“We don’t have to do anything special, you know. I enjoyed dinner, enjoyed the chance to dress up and go out with you and argue with you over who picks up the tab, so don’t get me wrong. All I’m saying is that you don’t have to have fancy plans to woo me, because I’m remarkably easy. The only thing I want to do is spend time with you, and if that means over dinner, or at the movies, or God forbid, even at the mall, then that’s fine. We can go dancing, we can go play putt-putt golf, or we can go home and snuggle on the couch and watch a movie, and I’ll be equally happy,” Sam concluded, feeling only slightly foolish at the outpouring of emotion.

“Really?” Brooke whispered, secretly thrilled at the confession.

“I was being honest, remember,” Sam replied sardonically, one brow quirking in amusement.

“How about this then. I want to do all of those corny dating things with you, just not right now. We’ll do putt-putt, we’ll do ice-skating, we’ll do the movies, and God knows that we’ll do dancing one day because I can’t wait to feel you… never mind, getting sidetracked there. Anyway, what I was saying is that I can’t wait to do all of those things, but right now all I really want to do is go home, curl up on the couch next to you, and watch cheesy late-night television. Do you mind?” she asked cautiously.

Sam rather gracefully refrained from reminding Brooke that that had been her idea in the first place, only grinning widely and smiling in acceptance instead of teasing her companion.

Saturday Night Live was blaring in the background, but to be honest, Sam couldn’t tell you anything about it. They had changed into more comfortable clothes after they’d gotten home, both washing away make-up that had been so carefully applied mere hours earlier, and settled down on the couch. An extremely happy Sam had pulled Brooke down beside her, nestling the blonde’s body between her legs, pulling her back so that her head rested on Sam’s chest, the weight of her body pinning her with delicious heaviness to the couch. Brooke had lazily flipped through the channels, the bluish light cast by the television screen casting them both in eerie shadows, the feel of Sam’s fingers gently stroking through her hair almost enough to make her purr.

The parents had already gone to bed when they’d arrived home, and by mutual consent, neither of them speculated as to the causes for retiring so early in the evening. Instead, they’d taken advantage of the opportunity, indulging in a little cuddling that would have been strictly off limits had the folks been around, paying more attention to the slight tease of skin on skin than to anything else. That was, until Brooke had shifted slightly in the brunette’s loose embrace, placing a soft kiss along the underside of a strong jawline.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re never going to get around to the first date kiss,” she had murmured, her lips teasing across soft skin.

“You paid for dinner. Its your lead tonight,” was the murmured reply.

“And here I thought that I was wearing the skirt tonight and not the pants,” Brooke teased, inching upwards until her lips were mere millimeters away from Sam’s, her hot breath teasing over the twitching skin.

“Not to steal a line for a movie or anything, but shut up and kiss me,” was her only reply, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did just that.

The kiss was soft, and tender, and while not the first to be shared between them, was different in some unquantifiable way. The first languid caress had turned into a second, and then a third, and some time later Sam became vaguely aware that they had been necking on the couch for quite a while, the intensity of the moment enough to actually block out the annoying peppiness of the Spartan cheerleaders blaring in the background.

“Since you don’t plan on letting this move any further, then I suggest we stop,” she finally whispered huskily, pulling herself away from the rather thorough exploration she had been conducting on the blonde’s neck.

“I’ve been thinking that I might have spoken too hastily,” Brooke said ruefully, dipping down for another long, wet kiss.

“I don’t want you to rush things. You said this was about starting over, about a new beginning, and this time, we’re not going to do anything that we’re not ready for,” Sam replied regretfully, slipping her fingers from a tangle of silken hair.

Brooke sighed. She hated having her words thrown back in her face, especially when the larger part of her brain was having to beat her libido back with a rather hefty stick and didn’t have the appropriate resources available to argue her case as well as she would have liked.

“Will you sleep with me then? I promise, nothing more than that, unless you change your mind. I just want to hold you, that’s all.” Oh, but why did she feel so very manipulative right about now.

“I’d like that,” Sam said with a bright smile, feeling Brooke’s weight roll off of her. She took the hand that was extended her way, rising to her feet gracefully. Their fingers tangled together, they moved up the stairs, moving with unspoken consent to Brooke’s room. She’d initiated the ‘no sleeping together until further notice’ rule, and simply because she desperately wanted to renege on it right now didn’t mean that she was going to force Sam out of her own room if the other girl wanted to escape her amorous clutches.

Turning the lights off, they settled into bed, long limbs entwined and breath mingling as each relaxed. Though it had been only a few days, the reconnection of skin on skin was comforting, bringing with it a low, comfortable hum of sexual arousal.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Sam said quietly, barely able to make out the look in Brooke’s eyes in the dim light.

“Me too,” Brooke said dreamily, her calf rubbing slowly up and down the length of a warm thigh, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

“Brooke, if you’re really serious about that us not having to wait any more thing…” Sam started, breaking off midway, mind short-circuited by the tease of soft flesh.

“Yes?” the other girl prompted breathlessly.

“I’d love to touch you,” Sam finished in a rush. Her answer was a long, slow kiss as Brooke felt her body melt with relief. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but after three days of abstinence and the delicious teasing that she had endured downstairs, the idea had lost some of its luster.

Like the kisses, this was different as well. The touches seemed longer, slower, more imbued with meaning, and when she felt herself biting back the cries signaling her orgasm, Brooke slowly became aware of the fact that it was the warmest feeling she had even encountered, the glow that was rushing through her now. Their previous lovemaking had been good, of that there was no doubt, but this was somehow different, as if their mutual tentative admissions of a shared love had taken them to a higher level. And when she felt the familiar shudders run though the body of her companion, she knew for a fact that it was different, that this feeling was infinitely better than the one they had shared before.

Limbs entwined, they drifted off into the haze the preceded sleep, this a new intimacy for them as well. They hadn’t actually slept the entire night in each other’s arms since that first time, and it hadn’t been anything like this then. The warm heat of Sam’s breath fanning out across her collarbone, the delicious press of her thigh flung across slim hips was satisfying in its own way, their intimacy deepened by the new-found ability to share this.

“Love you,” Brooke murmured sleepily, vaguely aware of the soft press of lips against her skin at the admission, the whispered repetition of the words blowing softly across her flesh.

Dating, Sam decided, a contented smile curling her lips as she felt herself slip into the arms of Morpheus, was definitely something that she could get used to.

Okay folks, that's it for now. Continuations might be forthcoming, but I'm not sure. Hope you enjoyed it.
HM

Harper

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