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(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by k.kikkiriccio...)

You wave Rachel away with the back of your hand. She tilts her head questioningly for a second, then smiles knowingly as you poke your finger toward Connie. As Rachel retreats quietly through the open doors to the inside, you walk up behind Connie and stop inches behind her. You tense up nervously, hesitating for a couple seconds, hoping you don’t get punched and ruin her friendship with your girlfriend. Or worse, if she turns out to be skilled in martial arts, get thrown over the rail to the concrete below. You decide to trust your girlfriend and just go for it.

You place your palms very low in the small of Connie’s back, fingers pointing out, and step forward to press your chest against her back while gliding your hands firmly over her womanly hips and closing them together in front of her. You sense that every muscle in her body instantly tenses up as she gasps faintly, straightening up even taller and holding her breath. But she doesn’t move. It seems like a long time, but is probably only five seconds, before you feel her exhale and relax slightly.

“Oh, um, what is this?” she asks.

“This is…” you search for the words, “…me thanking you for showing us around this beautiful place.”

“Mmmm,” she hums.

You stand there silently for a few more seconds, feeling the tension. She then takes a hand off the railing and places it over yours, turning her head a quarter turn toward you. “And,” you break the silence, “this is me telling you I really like your hair. Gives the hint of… fun, spunky.”

“Oh yeah?” She turns toward you and looks directly into your eyes, smiling slightly. “Maybe… naughty?”

“Maybe,” you reply.

You have not let go — you hands are still together, now behind her back. She puts her hands on your chest. “So,” she asks, looking behind you, “what would your girlfriend say?”

After a pause, you answer, “I think she’d agree.” You smile. “I’m sure she likes your hair too,” you laugh as you raise a hand to her head and brush through the front and side of her pixie cut with your fingers.

She shakes her head at you. “Kind of a new thing. I chopped it short last year. Then a few weeks ago I just went crazy and did this.”

“Well, very nice,” you approve. You turn her around again so that she faces out toward the yard again, so that you can nonchalantly lean back against the rail next to her and look toward the house. There is Rachel, inside, looking out the window, just standing there watching the two of you. You are sure that Connie saw her just now. You want to ask her how this all worked out, what she and Rachel have said to each other, but you figure that either you’ll find out sometime or it will remain a mystery. And you’re still not sure that you’ll actually end up having sex, or if somehow she’s misread the situation and will spurn your advances. So you just figure, what the hell, and lean into her for a kiss. She responds, meeting your lips with hers, apparently enjoying your forwardness.

In a matter of moments, the two of you are in each other’s arms facing each other, kissing deeply and slowly. As you stand, you also turn side to side a couple times, and you see Rachel clearly right there watching through the window, and you know Connie sees her too. You push Connie’s jacket off her shoulders and walk over to the futon with it, laying it down gently. Then you settle down comfortably on the cushion, head and shoulders up and reclining against the back, looking out over the landscape. You pat the cushion beside you, and Connie kicks off her shoes and snuggles up beside you as you enjoy the sunset for a minute. Her hands caress your face and you kiss at her fingers, and as you run your fingers through her hair, you notice Rachel strolling out onto the deck and settling down in one of the chairs.


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