DISCLAIMER: Show isn't mine. Amy Sherman-Palladino and Dorothy Parker Drank Here created it. Warner Bros. Television produces it and distributes it. The CW aired it but decided to end it because it had some boring family show which is pretty much "Everwood goes to South Africa, except it's boring, the wife still lives, there's a local-born population of one and it sucks...look, a cute lion cub! Awwwwww!!" David Rosenthal screwed it up. All products mentioned within are the trademarks of their respective owners (though I somehow think Unilever will be somewhat chagrined by the Vaseline mention). Oh, and thanks to Wikipedia and Scarleteen for providing me insight into some sexual matters. I don't want this to end up a bodice-ripper with clichés ahoy, so some real-life insight was needed into several subjects within the narrative.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sometimes it is a curse to write extremely long chapters, and this is one of those cases. I was ill-timed on my beta because my partner was just going back to school, and she has her own things to do in life, like write really hawt sex about the Grey's and Prada ladies...oh and that getting an education thing, I keep forgetting about those pesky learnings. Besides, I am hoping to have a new chapter out by the holidays, so enjoy this one for awhile :). As usual, Danielle, thank you for your tireless betaing, lesser beings would have crumpled months ago. The chapter title is an amalgam of things brought up throughout the chapter.
SPOILERS: Once again, outside the events of the actual season three, after A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving, at the very beginning of December 2002. No spoilers for the show beyond those already mentioned.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Longing With a Cherry Tomato on Top
By Nate

Chapter Seventeen
Red-Hot Embraces, Ice-Cold Comfort, and a Good Kind of Different

You have arrived at your destination. The voice of my GPS signified where we were, deep within a large forest preserve in New Britain next to a pond, in a place where I knew there was no chance a morning jogger would encounter us, which is what I was afraid of if I went to the park closest to Chilton. It also gave the both of us time to eat and recharge as I ate my jelly-filled doughnut without any of the usual Sharon-fed guilt about whether I'd have an acne breakout from eating one pastry. Thankfully it was a nice big doughnut and the coffee perked me up like I wanted. Surprisingly, Rory enjoyed her iced coffee, drinking down the cool beverage on the way to the preserve and enjoying how sweet it was, although she said it could've been better with fewer ice cubes diluting the drink. Considering how she usually described Luke's brew like she did an orgasm, I was happy that for once I got her to give a bit as to that opinion.

Pulling into the gravel lot next to the pond, I was taken aback by the beauty of the setting. We were in a clearing canopied by trees with a quarter covering of leaves yet still to fall, while the water shimmered below the cool December sun shining down from below. I still felt tight from my suggestion, and in the back of my mind, I kept reminding myself that seven minutes before the tardy bell had rung to the east at Chilton. I was so paranoid about being discovered that I took a little-used route through a cemetery to get to the park. Rory kept my nerves quiet by touching my hand when we stopped at intersections, reminding me her academic career wasn't finished off by her trip to Brooklyn.

"We're in your car," she reminded me, "not a closet at school. Sure, it's more confined, but it smells better than a mix of Windex and Pledge."

"Uh, yeah." I shook my head, trying to draw out the image of her against a tool cabinet. She was much sexier in a setting like this than she was stuck having to hope the janitor didn't walk in. The closer we neared to the park, the faster my heart beat. I tried to keep my speed in control, but once we were in the preserve proper where cops weren't monitoring, I had the speedometer up to 40 in a 10 mph zone. I wanted to do this and there was nothing to stop us.

When I stopped I took a look at my girlfriend, her right hand tight against the armrest on the door as my fingers danced against the outside of her thigh. She brushed stray hair behind her ear, and as the finality of the fact we weren't going into school yet hit her, she had unbuttoned her blouse down a couple of places. The tall girl bit down on her lip and regarded me carefully, hoping not to be caught off-guard. From my read, I think she was expecting something sexual yet a bit tame from the lack of time that we had. Her breath was steady and I think she expected nothing more than me to scoot over and do what I needed to do within her seat.

I knew what I wanted needed all the room I could get. Turning off the engine, I kept the battery on and tuned the satellite radio into a classical station lacking vocals, turning the sound system low to be barely discernable, while keeping the heat on since the outdoor thermometer read 37°.  Then, I got comfortable, unlacing my shoes and sliding out of them. I directed a look towards Rory, my want for her magnifying as she took a look at the area in front of the pond outside of the car.

I asked her to remove her own shoes and she complied, quickly taking them out from the loose knots I had done in the rush from the Manor. Putting them off to the farthest part of her side of the car, she was in anticipation for what I would do to her. Most likely she was expecting a Dean-like makeout with me moving into her seat.

Instead, I finally used the deep unused backseat of the Jag to my advantage for the first time since I got it. I decided to play sweet yet firm as I seduced her. She moved in for a kiss and a hug to bring me towards her...

I didn't let her in though, pushing into her, forcing her into an Indian-style crossing of her legs on her seat as I moved over, taking care not to spill either of the coffee cups sitting in the cupholders. I moved my hand towards where the adjustment levers were and before she could realize it, she was finding her seat reclining back. I took her by the side, resting my hand against the side of her skirt as I waited for the seat to tip back, giving us a clearing into the backseat area.

She made strangled noises, trying to say something but failing to as I pushed closer towards her. I found her beginning to react a little, wrapping around me, untucking the blouse, trying to work it out from the skirt. Her pupils retracted in as the seat reclined further and further, until it stopped against the edge of the back seat.

"We're going in the back," I stated firmly, releasing the lever and rising up a little to give Rory a little wiggle room into the back. Her thoughts as she scooted her way up the front seat and into the back suggested that she was expecting for me to stay on top of her the whole way into the back seat.

I didn't want this to be easy for her. In the shower, I wanted speed to make her come. But here, I was willing to linger and make her work for it. She then lay down on the seat, expecting me to follow shortly.

But I stayed still, waiting until she was lengthwise with the back with a bit of a curve to rest her feet against the back of the seat. As a former dancer I can be serpentine, bending myself where I needed to. Sure, I had forty more pounds on my frame since 'the change,' but I could still bend myself relatively well, which came to my advantage during the home projects in the tight areas of crawl spaces and attics.

I moved to the farthest side of the car, keeping my eyes on Rory's. Her mouth was open and there was obvious questioning on her face as to what I would do. Determining where I wanted to start my minstrations I stripped myself of the sweater I had on rather quickly, tossing it onto the steering wheel, untucked what Ror hadn't of the blouse, and undid three buttons, enough to keep her attention from drifting. I wanted her to remember this morning; I know I wouldn't forget it rather easily for quite a time.

I stared her down, solemn and rigid. Scanning down her body, her skirt wrinkled up her legs, pushed up to the top of her thighs in the front and completely hiked up in the back. She kept still and quiet, waiting for me.

I pulled myself up on the seat on that far side, hoping it would support me enough from not being in the middle, which thankfully it did with a bit of a creaking sound.

"Scoot up a bit," I asked, wanting to have room for what I would do for her. She did that and I pulled myself up further until I came to where I needed to be. I began to feel my fears melt away as I got deeper into the seduction, relieved that Ror wasn't leery of what I wanted. I was going to go at her speed and I expected that with her tongue work of earlier, I had a larger canvas to draw on than originally expected.

I was where I needed to be, right at one of her feet. I actually was a bit disappointed earlier that she didn't do a kiss-up after she discovered my tattoo, for I would have welcomed that. I could do the next best thing though.

I bared my teeth in a smile and then took each foot and stripped her of her socks, rolling them down her ankles and tossing them back onto the dashboard. She shuddered when I did it.

"Oh, God!" I parted her legs a bit, although she tightened her thighs to prevent me from having an early peek. "What are...what--"

I shushed her and proceeded to move up her body. If she thought I was relentless in the sex dreams she's told me about, she had no idea what the real woman could do to her.

I began her wonderful torture with a light kiss to her largest toe. Each of her nails, unlike my unpolished ones painted in an autumnal color of a light maroon. I kissed the tip, taking in the salty taste, imaging myself applying the polish to them instead of herself or her mother. She reacted with a hiss, holding onto the opening of the pocket behind the driver's seat with her left hand. Obviously, she was still so very wound up despite appearances on the outside.

The drive had done its job; I got her back into the mood. I moved up her foot, the beautiful arch of it always having drawn me in all summer, as she wore heeled sandals that bared it fully around Washington. I could see her eyes draw down as I reached the junction of her ankle, where I then went for a kissing line up the middle of her leg. I drew out sighs and moans, moving up slowly, an inch every ten seconds. She was so wound up that she braced her other foot against the door. I took in the lavender scent of her skin, mixed with talc...so simple, but still beguiling; it drew me in further. With each touch of my mouth to her skin she reacted a new way, her eyes tightening closed, nose flaring, a new sound arising from her throat. I couldn't help but lathe my tongue against her skin and I was so gone, tasting her, the definition of the bone so firm. Undoubtedly, she was bringing herself into this.

My cascading hair tickled her, threatening to deter me off-track, but she stayed as still as she could. But I could sense there was another type of movement, one I didn't detect until I was past her knee, when I felt her thigh dart up and down slightly.

Kissing around the hollow and then up, I stopped when I felt the slight shift and darted myself up to stare down at her.

I demanded that she had to let me do what I wanted. "Gilmore, break your other leg apart, now."

Caught, she tried to explain. "I...I wasn't doing anything. That was involuntary."

I shook my head. "Don't do it."

"But--"

I lowered my voice into a growl. "I said, keep them apart, or else." I was predatory, asserting the most control I could without scaring her. "If you don't, I'll make you work much harder for release." She could sense I was serious and quickly opened her legs apart. With that, she could no longer shield herself using the skirt, letting me look right up it. I had the sunroof open, but with a tree shadow casting against the glass, I didn't have a great view of her lower portion from where I was.

I continued my trail, her womanhood so enticing. Her hand tightened against the pocket opening as I moved higher, her smell more apparent with each peg up. She continued to groan while I kissed up her smooth limb, her nerves tightening up as I pushed ever closer to her center. Slowly torturing her, drawing her out despite her pleading and begging for more contact with me, I kept my feet balanced against the seat so I could hover over her, hands to each side.

I watched her undo the cuffs on each side of her blouse to hasten the eventual undressing process. I kept my focus trained as I continued up, until eventually my fingers were again at the hook of her skirt, where one easily flick would work it open.

"You want this, hon?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

"Oh, God." She was whimpering at my words, totally taken and far gone. "Please...undo it. Push up my skirt."

I unhooked the article, loosening it across her stomach, and then let my head begin to dip beneath the fabric as I left a damp trail of my kisses all along the length of her legs. As I dipped in further, I couldn't only see the effects of my flirting and teasing on her, but I could smell it too. Her arousal had a deep, raw fragrance about it, mixed in with the scent of the new cotton which was residing against her sopping mound. I felt a bit of her fingers flailing across the back of my head, an encouragement to explore farther. My nose trailed the inner portions of each thigh, the high cut of the panty giving me plenty to probe until I met her junction. Her breath shortened with each small touch, her skin pricking up with goosebumps while she crossed her legs involuntarily, a feeling unfamiliar to her previously from someone foreign.

I slid all the way off from the seat, and with my hands free from propping, began to slide the skirt up on each side from mid-thigh, pushing it out, while I peeked my tongue out to probe at the frills on each side of her underwear. I left small kisses on each side, moving closer to her covered slit with each peck, rolling up the skirt as I went along. She was distracted, wanting more and more. I could just imagine what was going through her mind, what she thought I was going to do, trying to predict my sexual pattern for this session.

She lifted herself up to let the skirt pool up along her stomach. Rolling it up to the waistband, I tucked it into there. I moved my mouth towards her center, then laid kisses along her slit.

I inhaled the scent...immediately I closed my eyes, taking in Rory's raw essence. In a word, she's very much indescribable. I brushed my nose across the mound, defined on each side by a trail of slick arousal. I feared touching her with my hand, afraid to get her off like a hair trigger. I didn't want this to end within a moment, sp I needed to elongate it as much as I could.

I had to be evil...be bad to her. I wanted to be dominant and make it known to her that I wouldn't accept this basic make-out as utterly sexual. What was good enough for Tristan, or your average girly tease influenced by intoxicants, it was downright primary in my book, and I'm sure that Rory wanted something more than what we've done so far.

Looking for an idea, I tried to come up with something, turning my head around towards the front seat to catch a breath.

Suddenly, it was right in front of my face what would take this to the next level.

In front of me behind the lowered headrest, sat the clear plastic cup which contained Ror's iced coffee, a treat for her, something she had never tried before and very much enjoyed.

My mind immediately brought up an idea, which I felt myself immediately flush deep thinking about.

Oh, you're not going to do that. You're insane, Paris; what are you thinking? Lose that idea right now!

If you thought that was my mind trying to stop me, I'm afraid you are be mistaken.

Instead of encouraging me on, my inner vixen was trying to dissuade me from doing what I wanted.

But you see, I'm the type who enjoys experimenting, at work, or at play. Whether it was a dance when I was younger or trying to find an answer that the teacher's edition didn't come up with, I didn't want to take the easy way to get what I wanted. I always went for the hardest, riskiest track towards what I wanted. I wanted to take the risks and be the trailblazer, tradition be damned.

"Rory," I firmly warned. "Close your eyes, tight." I moved up to look at her. "Do it, now." Already feeling so turned on that she didn't want to disobey me, she shut them and lay back down quickly. There was no questioning or second guessing that I had free reign upon her from hereon out.

Now if I could keep that control....

I lifted myself up and then unbuttoned my blouse down the rest of the way, followed by the cuffs, until finally throwing it towards the steering wheel when I stripped it off. I didn't need it in the way certainly, and I wanted my breasts on as much of a display for my girl as possible. I moved to straddle her just above her knees.

I drew my attention to the coffee, debating internally if I wanted to do what I was thinking. I went back and forth, thinking in the terms of Rory's possible reaction. I knew I could try anything with her but I wasn't sure if this was too much.

Truthfully though, I knew that I wanted to do it, judging from interesting dreams I've had in the past of her in similar situations, only with a different extreme.

She's told you before if she doesn't like it, you can move on, no harm or foul. I remembered back to Thursday when she let me know she'd try something if it worked for her at the end of my...phone job. I still don't know what to call that really. But it was sort of the carte blanche I needed, that I already had her permission to try what I wanted. If she didn't like it, fine, but if she did, it would pay dividends. It would show me that where we were heading sexually was the right road to go down.

And on the surface, it was completely innocent. It was something good to explore, and at the same time, pretty educational too. Really, while kissing her up and doing what I wanted, I was doing an extra-curricular research project, trying to find out what got Rory hot.

Yeah. Finally, my mind was getting behind it under the auspices of human sexual emotion, and my vixen was getting too overwhelmed not to experiment with her. Frankly, if I didn't then, it would have happened sooner or later. Might as well strike while the match is hot.

I dipped my nose back within the invisible line while stretching out my right hand and grabbing the cup in a loose grip. I pushed up the cup to force the lid and straw off, and nudged with my wrist at the back seat cupholder to open it up so I could replace the cup inside of it. I put it in, distracting Rory with some outer thigh kissing which kept her as distracted as I could get her. Her gasps were impatient as she wondered what I had in my arsenal.

Oh, did I have plenty to go around. Throwing the lid and straw into the front, the cool coffee was now open. I dipped a finger within the milky concoction, chilled ice cold. Suddenly feeling very seductive, I pinched my fingers around one of the many ice cubes floating on the surface of the drink. Taking it out, careful not to let it slip out of my grasp, I clenched it between my index and middle fingers, the far side jutting out from the underside of my finger.

I gave an once-over of my girlfriend, making sure she hadn't peeked. My distractive kisses highlighted her beating heart much more in her ears than the rattling of the coffee and ice cubes.

Very pleased with her shut eyes, I moved my hand down towards the top of her left knee as far as I could go, hovering the cube just a few millimeters above her skin. She didn't react at first, thinking my hands were already cold.

"I dare you to move," I suggested in a husk, and then I set my hand down mid-point between her knee and apex.

She took in a deep, sharp breath almost immediately. Her mouth opened wide, body jumping with the sudden change in temperature.

"Yaahhhh!" She tried to keep still but found it hard. "WHAT THE--" I began to trail the hand up. "Paris!"

"Eyes closed..." I reminded. "Mouth shut." I didn't stop my drift.

"But--"

"If I happen to recall, you seem to have heightened awareness when you're cold." I smirked down, circling the cube as I neared closer to her panties. "I'm just trying to test that. You get off on cold, so to speak. It helps you think better, keep your concentration." Oh, how I was going to tease her. "You always thought of me before as cold as ice, unbreakable; I hate yielding. You just think of me as probably boring, dull, not much for sexual experimentation--that's what you expected." Closer and closer, I bent over her, flitting more kisses around her delicate covered lower lips.

"The moment you said I plan everything, I was pissed off, mad, angry that you would suggest I don't know how to be spontaneous. I didn't say so because it wasn't a big deal." The cube was moving closer to the leg opening..."But thinking about it, you were right. I plan. I overplan. I actually thought of us in calendar terms, that we wouldn't even get to feeling each other up until mid-December, and we wouldn't have ever had phone sex.

"So you know what I did?" Oh, the ice was cold, goosebumps following down the trail of wetness as it drifted across Rory's pale skin. "I thought about what I wanted. Went over everything in my mind, my modus of organization, that yeah, I can fit a make-out in on the way home if traffic's good. Send that 'your eyes only' text at 10pm, when you're safe in your room. Our morning kiss happens at exactly ten after, and we'll be complacent in the speed of our relationship for the sake of our parents, appearances, and mores."

She expected me to zig past her cleft most likely as whinnies of want pushed from her mouth. I started the direction that way, going right past the bottom of her mons and darting in along the far side, a 'safe' move. I had my full intensiveness on, my voice not drifting off at all but remaining at the same treble.

I moved past her slit towards the waistband, knowing she was probably wanting to rub herself together. She wasn't going to know what hit her.

"So if you don't mind," I said, faking as if I was about to pull away from her. Her body relaxed suddenly and I could tell from her body language that she was expecting me to do the right thing, to stop. "I am going to tell you..."

She didn't notice that my free hand had slowly drifted up the top of the backseat along the speaker grille, my finger hooked in the child restraint anchor. I moved it down again, reaching it up as far up towards her blouse as I could, right at the middle of the shirt. I stared her down as her breaths drifted in and out, stomach rising and falling. I could tell she was thinking this would be the end, that yes, I was mad at her for thinking I couldn't be sexually spur of the moment. Anticipation built within her as she assumed that I was just teasing her.

I pushed my hand into the space between the middle of her shirt, barely touching her skin. I lifted up the now-dripping ice cube so she could no longer feel it.

The trap was set. I was ready to pounce.

I quickly reached over to the cup to take an additional cube between my ring and pinky, moved the other cube to between my thumb and index and then moved it back in. I made sure my hand in her shirt was positioned just right.

"I'm going to tell you that..." I dropped my hand abruptly upon the center of her mound. The top cube was at the edge of her opening while the bottom one was as low as I could go.

Meanwhile, above, I began to unbutton her shirt as fast as I could. I positioned myself where I could be comfortable feeling her up and manually stimulating her and went in for the kill, baring my teeth out as I described how I wanted her.

"We're no longer on a schedule." I pushed my fingers in, watching as she began to react to the coldness where she never expected it. "I'm done with just pushing things aside just because I have to study." One button on the blouse. "You will no longer think that I'm so green that I can't understand some concepts, because I want to learn; I will learn." I moved the cubes to line up between my index and middle, trailing down her hidden bud. "If its Friday night dinner and you're bored with Lorelai's newest argument with the grandparents, I want to be texted. I want to know what you're doing. I want to make you feel good." Two buttons down. "I will find a private place at whatever gathering Mother forces me into and I will call you to describe in detail what I wish I could be doing with you at that exact moment."

Her throat tightened as I ran the cubes along the length of her slit, the cold water soaking through the material. "I'm done hiding, and I've held this want for you in for way too long." There go buttons three and four, leaving the topmost part of the blouse open. "When I was in the booth on Saturday, I did my back first and then the front. I kept thinking about you and how hungry I've been to have you. To feel you, want you...taste of you." I began to move my mouth closer to her mound, venturing the cubes higher towards her waistband to test the waters. "I fantasized about you in the booth, just taking my mind anywhere it wanted to go, my hands all over my body, just thinking of you, explicitly, full of desire. By the time the bell went off to tell me I was done, I felt not only perfectly dark, but..." The fifth button was undone. Her legs widened out as I let the ice drip onto the skin just above her waistband. I smiled. "I felt well-fucked."

I was finding my groove (that's what it is, right? Is it notch? See, I'm bad with these slang terms sometimes...), getting her so wound up. I wasn't going to let her get off just yet though. She groaned as I described my tanning time, her own hands idly at her sides, brushing her outer thighs.

"Paris..." I don't think hearing my name as a breathy moan is something that will ever get old. "Oh dear, your hands...so soft."

"Thank you," I whispered as I pushed in closer and closer towards her intimacy. "So I'm thinking about you on the flight home, wondering to myself, how can anything top having fun with myself while tanning? I mean, you're Rory Gilmore. You're the same girl who screamed out loud at some horny sophs when they commented on your ass, what, a year ago? With Tristan, you were clueless as to what 'studying' he actually wanted to do with you, and you never responded to his flirting. Somehow, as you became my lust object, I really felt guilty when I thought of you. I'd think of you as you were to start out, but by the end, you were aggressive, sexual, wanton." My lip quivered as I revealed my shame. "I...I tried to stop because that wasn't you. That wasn't the girl I knew; she would never do that. I stopped it when I touched myself, but when I dreamt of you, they wouldn't go away. I actually felt guilty reducing you down to the level of just a sexual outlet and nothing else. And then eventually, I brought you back into my sessions, but I remained guilty about it."

I had undone the last blouse button and untucked it from the skirt on all sides, leaving her fully and completely open. There was no shielding on her part, nor were her hands stopping me. They stayed at her side. I let the ice go to rest near her navel, knowing exactly what I was doing.

I pushed my hands down toward each side of her panties. I let my palms create a rolling motion as I changed the focus from the former fantasy to the current reality.

I finished my ode before going further. "After last night, however, all that guilt is gone. Because my fantasies of you? They pale so much to having you in my arms, seducing me, getting me all hot, and then..." I took in her heady fragrance, the desire emanating from her so much. "Letting me do what I wanted to you, getting you off with only my words, the barest of touches. Then this morning, in the shower and on the desk, I know now that how we feel about each other shouldn't be something we stress or fret over."

I worked the underwear in a fold-and-turn manner, working them from her hips in a tortuous manner. "Is there something that you want?" I asked her, letting my breath drift over her wet center. "I sense this is the wettest you've ever gotten when it comes to teasing. You go back, trying to think of when the other guy did this to you. But you can't; there's no comparison."

"I...I get deeply aroused," she explained. "I swear, it's only been with you though. When I had a damp dream of you and I this summer...I thought of the both of us in a side room off from Statuary Hall in the Capitol. I...I actually overslept on purpose the next morning so I could my sheets down to the laundry they were that ruined. I was so embarrassed that you might have thought I wet the bed."

"And what were we doing in that room?" I asked, my lips pursing while I teased above, trailing my tongue down from her belly button.

"Very naughty things," she hinted vaguely. As I rolled her panties down, I found the fringe of her hair. On a closer examination, it was even better to take in than just the feel up in the shower.

"I fucked you, right?"

"Oh, that you did...." she moaned deeply as she recalled. "You know those flags that stand to the side of podiums in live shots?" I mm-hmmed. "After we took off our clothes, you saw one off to the side, and suddenly, it was going from a quickie to...oh my God, I still get chills remembering it."

"Tell me what happened, please." I was needy, desperate for this information that we used national symbols as sexual props. Usually, something to be discouraged, but in this case, to see the former Mary go into details about how she thought of me in bed, it made me want her even more.

"You yanked an American flag off from its flagstaff, laid me down on it, and then," she lifted up her hips, anticipating my next move. "Well, I would suppose we'd be in big trouble with the Stars Hollow VFW for a crime against the Flag Code, but..." she trembled. "You told me there was nothing sexier to you than expressing your want for me on something you revered, proper decorum be damned."

I shuddered internally, the idea that Rory would get off from me fucking her on the Stars and Stripes somewhat perverted (we had to see the Fort McHenry flag the day before at the Smithsonian; remind me not to visit the United Nations with her while she's in heat!). But in a fun way, it was kind of hot to think of her orgasming by my hand atop of Old Glory.

It also drove me further. "You have some strange kinks there, Gilmore." I moved my nose closer, allowing her to open her eyes once again. "But then again, I shouldn't be surprised. You like to role-play...like that one time you faked being a Girl Scout?"

"That was innocent!" she cried out. "I wasn't thinking dirty at all!"

"Sure you weren't," I teased. "I kind of recall that the Juliet dress was so tight you had to forgo a bra."

"So?"

"You were hard. All those people watching you get a kiss from me?" Exposing the top of her lips, I dipped my nose within. "No wonder after Tristan left you began to get off to me. The immediate aftermath...'Oh God, I have to kiss Paris.' And as you take a look at the audience when you lay down on the table..." I breathed down her slit. "You suddenly found it might be fun. Interesting."

I pulled her underwear down the rest of the way, exposing her to me once and for all. I took a look at the territory, like she had with me.

She didn't seem off to me at all in any way. Her labia puffed out more than I expected but in a good way; that's probably what the girls teased her about. Her clit was fully aroused and the hair was perfectly slick with her cum, shining in the spare light. I felt so hot, glowing that I was the one to get her that way.

"Admit it, Gilmore. If I would have kissed you, full on, with all of those people watching, including Dean and Lane...In that moment, I was the only one who could make out your nipples. I touched you and you gasped, surprised by the softness of my hand." Her panties were down to her knees now. "In that hall, you were highly aroused because of me. And if I would have kissed you..."

Tentatively, I laid a soft peck on the center of her opening, letting a little tongue flitter go up her right lip as a sampler. Immediately, she reeled back.

"I would have kissed you, just like that, Ror." My voice was firm and truthful. "If not for the fear the gossip mill would run rampant the next day, I would have given you a peck, just like I did now, and then collapsed, my hand somehow landing to cup your breast. In that moment, it came to me that I wanted you. That I wasn't sad for Tristan's departure. That from that point on, I had you all to myself."

I applied my lips again, teasing at the space between her thighs. I was wanting to warm her up, letting the story wash over her before we went further.

"I don't usually get sentimental like this, but with his departure, and with that almost kiss, I did die," I admitted, looking up at her, my hands soothingly rubbing her legs. "At least the old me did. The one who could bully you just for fun, order you around, didn't care how you felt about much--I just lived to torment you. But caught in the spotlight, thrust into it against my will..." I took in a breath and paused for a beat. "...And I finally faced up to facts. I pushed away from you because I wanted you."

"Don't...don't you mean...you want me?" she questioned, which had me caught.

"I don't know." I firmed up, taking a few ice cubes into my hand. "The question is..." I brought it close to her, knowing that she was impatient for something. "Do you want me?"

"Yeah, of course," she responded, rushing out the words. Nope, not good enough for me.

Her shocked gaze took me in as I played with her once again. "Oh, I didn't mean like that. I know you enjoy kissing me, and more. The question is..." I palmed the cold ice chips, and ran it along her already reddened majora. "Do you want me? All of me? I enjoy all of you already, the way you caringly seduced me last night, and used the tattoo thing this morning to worm your way between my legs while I was completely cooperative." I slipped in one cube between her lips, letting it peek out halfway as I ran it lengthwise across the heated flesh. "Your body enjoys extremes, I know it. You flush red in the heat, shirk your layers, and you love being flirty in your cute little dresses, skirts and tops while you show off those legs." I watched her mouth widen as the cube ired her nerves. "But you enjoy cold much more. Your breasts are small, cute, quaint, but when it's cold, they tighten up and your nipples jut out, while you stretch a sweater over them. Your bottom half hardly goes unnoticed either; your ass looks so much better in a pencil skirt or jeans than it does in thin summer wear. You love to flatter it."

"So the question is..." I asked again as she screamed out loud. "Do you want me? Can I have free reign? I want to get you off and I will make sure you remember this morning for years to come." Dipping the finger in slightly between her lips, I guided the cube along her opening...

Then I let it push out at the engorged flesh of her erect clitoris.

"FUCK!!!!!!!"

Oh yeah, I had her. Her eyes shut, I took out the cube, widened out her lips, and then took her in fully into my mouth. "Paris...oh Christ. Oh God...yes!"

"Yes what?" I mumbled.

"Yes, take me. Have me. God, I'm so wet, so horny....you're driving me outta my mind here, evil woman!"

Oh, did I ever have to smile at that. "I'm evil, aren't I?" Immediately, I made a beeline for her clit, taking the nub into my mouth, suckling on it, taking her in and familiarizing myself with the new process previously known only through books and visual demonstrations.

"Evil isn't enough, I should call you a dark mistress...ugggh..." I let my tongue do most of the work, using my mouth only for the teasing below. Her dampened mound was so slick, the scent coming off from her so enticing. It wasn't her usual neutral and innocent fragrance, mixed in with coffee. She pushed against me as I slid my tongue along the engorged flesh, taking it in a slow, exploring circle. I started at the top with the circle then moved down to the base, swirling the nub like an ice cream cone.

Taking in her taste, I was unbelieving that this is where things had ended up. That a year-long crush could turn into something like this. When Mr. Silvestri should be saying 'Pencils down', Rory was in my backseat I was going down on her.

I took in her gasps, rush and harried, judging if I was doing things right. I moved up and down along her lips for a bit, then back to her clit, looking up occasionally to see an image that I immediately knew would burn in my mind. Rory was looking down at me, pushing herself into a recline at her back in the seat against the locked door, her hair definitely turning from perfectly brushed to thoroughly ravished. Sliding my lower teeth along her button, she threw her head back, her shoulders hunched, pushed up against the faux-grain plastic of the back door.

What really got to me, however, was how her breasts swelled against her bra. The swell of her bust was apparent through the dotted orange fabric. She threw her head back as she pushed both sides of the shirt from herself, the action forced the bra to slide up from her shoulders, to push up while she used her right hand to grip at the pull within the seat which opened it up into the trunk.

I shuddered, watching her moan my name as I took her in, my tongue trying to find a quick rhythm. I went with a counter motion, a left-to-right circling, then reversed it back into clockwise with each third revolution. I could feel her convulse against me, even more arousal slowly secrete out from her womanhood. I found my lips surrounded with her cum as she gasped my name, begging me to go further and further with her.

"Baby...oh God, Par...Par...you're my Par-Bear...come on, lick me harder, eat me..." Pushing in against and then out from her, she found her own way to elongate. Never would I have expected to hear those last two words from her and the effect they had on me was amazing. I widened her out a little more, just enough to get her close to the edge. She took me between her legs, working off her underwear until they fell from a foot and onto the floor of the car.

After a bit of time, I heard and felt her get to the wall, her breaths getting even more rushed as I sucked and licked faster and faster. She was getting there, almost...

"Oh, fuck, Oh God! Come on, do it, I'm almost there..."

But if she thought I was just going to reverse the roles and let her have an oral orgasm, she doesn't know that I intended to make her previous ideal of an orgasm seem so quaint and last century.

Just as she was about to prepare herself to go over the hump, I retracted my tongue back and let my lips pull away from her slit. She was so wet, her mound on a full glisten as I began the second phase of the seduction. I breathed upon her pussy a couple more times and then moved up to drift my kisses upon the skin leading up the trail towards her navel, pinching in the wrapped skirt so I could lick and kiss as much skin as I possibly could.

As I pulled away, the delayed reaction came to Rory as the heat between her legs began to dissipate. Taking a bit to realize it, she had to open her eyes to see that I was moving up her body. At first she panicked, trying to pull me back down, but she only ended up losing her balance from where she pulled and ended up not grabbing.

"Paris, what the hell are you doing?!"

I moved my gaze up to her and kept myself vague. "Not rushing things along; I want to linger." I slid the tip of my tongue within the enticing knot of her navel, which I found to be adorable. The scent of vanilla, lavender and talc remained within the crevasse, causing me to tingle. "You have to remember, I don't have a cock or a need to expel immediately. I'm experimental at heart, and that includes my exploring with you." I set my hands at her sides, taking in her hooded gaze as I continued. "I know I might seem like I'm inexperienced, but that's only because I'm not Louise, and I'm still learning, unfamiliar with things."

"I know, but you can be fast and hard with me," she tried to explain.

"I will, I promise." I caressed her slowly, kissing her belly button again. "Not now though. You deserve the best, Gilmore. Your life, be it the real version or your love life, has been tough, and for the last two years you had that aggressive nitwit telling you what you could or could not do. If we're going to work in the long term, we have to test, probe, feel, react." I began to shift my kissing towards her right side northbound, continuing to talk her up, pushing her shirt as far behind her back as it could go. "The skin here, along your ribs, for instance. No way Dean ever thought of it as an erogenous zone; it was just a chasm between the erotic triangle. But to me..." I moved my hand up to drift up the barely visible ladder shielding her lungs, thankfully hidden by a couple of layers of fat produced by Luke's grill. "I remember when I hugged you after that victory against the Oregon team in July, how when you relaxed in as I moved my hands up from your waist, my hand accidentally brushed up from your stomach. You reacted..." On cue, her face flushed red and she let out a calmed breath. "Exactly like that. But when I did that before, you pulled away, as if burned, scared that if you went full-on with your reaction, I might take it the wrong way." I circled the pads of my fingers on each side, lifting myself up to stop the kissing for a while. I dug my nails lightly into her skin, letting them climb each rib. "I retain all that I see, every touch, every taste...right now, it lingers within my mouth, and I can't help but think that what I'm doing is so erotic." My fingers danced around her as she watched each move in amazement, her face reddening while I went on, moving my hands towards her sides. I enjoyed the slow torture, keeping my hands purposefully away from the bottoms of her breasts.

I did this as a distraction technique, readjusting my sitting position so I could sit above her with my legs folded to prop me up further. I tried to keep my skirt as free as possible to facilitate movement and let my bare thighs brush against her. My intentions would eventually be known to her later.

"Do you like that, Ror? Do you enjoy it?" I calmed my voice as I watched her convulse, the orgasm she was to have bottled up and dissipating. I was slowing things down for her purposely, hoping to make it clear that those I learned about sex from did not influence my style of lovemaking. Sharon might go for whoever offered the top dollar, while Louise went for the two-minute orgasm.

But I always saw sex as something of a journey that you should linger in taking as long as you can. Not tantric-long like Sting though; are you kidding me with holding in a cum for nine hours?! It needs to be shared, enjoyed, exploring, longing. I told Rory that as I continued, bringing the band of her skirt down a bit so I could let my fingers splay across her stomach.

"With my crushes on Tristan and you," I explained, "I kept myself bottled in, afraid to express for the longest time. I was seriously fucked up when it came to masturbation, and didn't even really get into it as a stress reliever or way to relax until a year before you came to Chilton; before then it was either accidental or unfocused. I couldn't go to my father about it and Sharon made it clear that it was something to feel shame for. Eventually, however, I started exploring, feeling around, getting used to all my spots, trying to find out what made me tick. Just thinking about that other, touching me, feeling me..." I shut my eyes, feeling so strange to admit it. "When I'd do it too fast, just humping against a pillow or blanket, I felt the release, but not the satisfaction if I just went right to downtown." I began to trail my touch up, my speech sounding as if I was some kind of New Age counselor...almost Birmbaum-like. "Soon though, I'd use Fridays, Saturdays, as my time for release. Whatever came down through the six days before, I just let it all pool up; whatever looks, leers, lingers I did towards Tristan, or you, and them back, I let myself construct thoughts to guide me. Occasionally I'd sit at my desk while studying and touch, but just to calm myself. Once I got to Friday night though..." I smiled down at her, tossing my hair back. "That was me time, hidden behind the rush to get homework done. After eight, I'd strip down, let my hands wander where I wanted to, and closed the world off from me. Thinking of him...and then you. I touched myself everywhere I could, letting them all build up until eventually, in a rush of desire..." I hissed, recalling those pre-Rory orgasms. "It was perfect. Always."

She asked a question, her voice deepened by the craving going through her. "When did you go to more frequent self-pleasure?"

I nodded, understanding the question. "I'd say April; it was the median between the Hillside debate and the election. The feelings, I just couldn't control them any longer. I'd see you and that would make me go weak. I tried to stop myself at first, letting them bottle up like I usually did. But a mere thought, a reading of your handwriting, a voicemail left by you on the cell, I'd find my hand sliding up my blouse, or undoing my pants, listening to your voice in my head, constructed to make me hot. I tried to ignore them, I really did. But sometimes," I blushed, "it wasn't enough. Bringing my focus on-task was hard, and then I'd start rubbing my hand against my mound, or aroused a nipple. It would still be slow and yet, I had this insatiable wanting for you that I couldn't help. Calling out your name, thinking about you...pretty soon, I got used to the idea of locking the door to my room, keeping my pants unbuttoned, knowing at any moment I'd be reminded of you and then want release. Be it within my desk chair or on my bed, with my fingers...." Ruefully, I admitted my use of props. "Or else, the nearest pencil to me."

Her mouth opened and she hyperventilated at the thought of my clit against a pencil eraser. "Oh my God...you..."

"My home pencils," I corrected, rolling my eyes. "As much as I'd like to think about you biting down on one of my writing utensils not used for much writing, even I had to draw a line somewhere."

"Oh." Somehow, she felt sort of relieved, but with a sense of disappointment. She bit down on her lip, her lashes fluttering as I pushed my hands up her sides, getting just below the band of her bra. "Oh man, that feels good. Ohhh...ummmmmm..."

"Let it stretch, hon. Make it a road race, not a dash." I pushed myself slowly closer to her, placing a leg between hers, making sure that my skirt stayed loose. I was in awe watching her, looking as if she was having a pleasurable dream, her eyes shut, body wiggling seductively.

"I'm getting so hot...tight." She gasped, her cheeks flared red, skin heated, as my eyes scanned across her freckled skin. "Come on, finish me, please."

"All in due time." I was willing to stretch this out for her as long as I could. "Relax for me." I slid my hands up towards her shoulders, bruises and bites from the night having not faded, making me shudder with delight. Dipping towards her back, I gave her a massage, making her shrug the uniform blouse from her shoulders. Looking at her fully, the contrast of the bra against her skin was more apparent to me up close. It really looked as if it was meant for her, picked out carefully both to support her and tease me. Not to give short shrift to her usual choices, but this new sexier, much sultrier Rory Gilmore, that I could only know, it gave me such a swell to know that she did this just for me.

Pushing down the shirt so she could get it off, I slid a couple fingers beneath her underarms while pushing myself up to amplify where I knew her eyes were shamelessly looking. I wasn't embarrassed, enjoying the attention she was giving my breasts. I could feel them swell in the bra but I was barely concentrating on my own pleasure, instead circling my fingers within the thin, surprisingly smooth skin of her axillae.

I worked the shirt off, pulling it down and down until she worked it the rest of the way off her to lay down on it beneath the small of her back. Getting an idea of my lover, beneath the light of the sunroof, Rory looked so sexual, wanton, beautiful.

I couldn't get off her eyes though after I asked her to move up even more so that she was relaxed against the back of the door. They were so crystalline, a fiery, strong and deep blue that I had never seen them take before. It was an intense color for her, one that was even more magnified as they raked over my swelled chest.

God, I wanted her so badly. I felt a burning all through me, radiating through my being. Not just in that one spot: it was all over. My body temperature felt like it was higher than normal, the thin layers I wore like molten wax, melting against me.

Looking down, her nipples were both hard, puckering within each cup of the bra, a strap sliding off from the right side. My mouth dried, examining them. Slowly, I ran my hands along the bottom of her bra, afraid to touch just yet.

"Paris...Par..." Her throat was reduced to spare syllables, the usual guise of her as the future star of CNN replaced by that of a passionate young woman. "I'm so hot...God, you're getting me all wound up. You're...you're definitely a dark mistress."

I formed a circle with the end fingers of each hand, running them along the bottom of each breast, rigid and swelling within the cups. My mons heated as I examined the topography and I had to close my leg tight around to stop the sexual rubbing I was feeling such a need to do within the tight confines of the boyshorts. Her breath quickened with each touch, moving higher and higher.

Compared to my heat, she must have been spilling over, hairs on end on her bare arms. I rubbed them as I began to lick my lips together.

I ran with her new title for me. "This dark mistress would like to nip at you." I said it firmly, without a hint of humor, hoping that it would send her into a tizzy.

"Please." I dipped my head down, her words barely coming out. "I want you...taste me all over, my breasts have been swollen since last night. There's just something...something about..."

The rest of her sentence was obliterated as I let my mouth fall against her tempting tit.

So hungry for her, I teased one lightly with my tongue through the orange fabric, the nub so aroused that it had very little give to it. I licked around the nipple, circling it with my tongue through the fabric, listening for Rory's reactions. She had given up on control, letting herself ebb and flow with my sexual drive. I gave attention to her left side, cupping that breast within my hand, rubbing it and pinching the nipple between my ring and middle finger. Her body tightened as I played with her, suckling one nipple, playing with the other. I began to nip at it even more, letting my teeth drift against it. She bucked up against my skirted leg, trying to come in contact with my skin but unable to because I widened them out.

I was so insatiable for her, disbelieving even my own passion, how much I wanted to taste and tease her. Soon, my vision was drifting off to the enticing front clasp between each breast, the last insulation to her modesty. My saliva soaked the bra cup, her gasps became more deep and lust-filled, and I began to think that I was drawing her out to the point where she was sore.

"Oh God...oh my God, suck on it harder. I'm so...so...you do this so well, Par." I don't know what was triggering my want for her small breasts so much, but it had to be something latent, that I had always enjoyed them from afar. To tell the truth, it might even go back to Sharon refusing to breastfeed me and making me all-formula. Who knows, exactly? All I knew was that Rory Gilmore loved breast play  and she was pushing my head closer against her bosom.

After another minute or two, I was desperate to taste her beneath and she had sensed that, guiding my free hand by the wrist towards her clip in a move of sore need. So used to almost any kind of bra undressing, I had it open within moments, pushing the fabric aside, needing her, taking in the deep pink coloring and freckled skin laying beneath, up close.

The other one was so soaked, so erect, hard. I moved on to the other, hungry for her, while moving my free hand to her thigh, brushing her hand on the way down as she slid it across her slit.

Our self-control was hanging on a thin thread; we both knew this. I moved it in closer towards her lips, rubbing it against the outside lining of her hair line, while her breasts were still hardened. She shoved off the bra, letting it fall below her, leaving her in nothing but a pushed up skirt.

I knew we were getting close to a breaking point. She began to envelope me into her grasp as I was overloaded with the many things I had done for her in such a small space of time.

By now, in AE, we were supposed to be handing in our papers.

In the back of my Jag though, Rory was sliding her hand into my wrist, pulling me away from her breasts and making me look into her lust-filled eyes.

"Paris...Par." A hot intensity between us, shared, together.

"Yeah?" I smiled down on her.

"You are way better to me than any guy could be." She pushed herself up and brought me up with her with some gained sexual strength, her fingers raking across the small of my back. "I've always felt...not girl-like."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Dean called my breasts 'quaint' one time," she admitted. "I always felt like hiding them myself for being too small; when I went to Hollow High, I'd wear bulky sweaters because the girls had a cruel nickname for me."

As I kissed up her sternum and towards her neck, I was saddened by this. How could anyone not regard Rory as a beauty? After all my compliments about her décolletage, she was coming back down to earth, realizing that I was the only one to really give attention to them.

Firmly, I tried to make her see differently. "So? Do they really think their boobs are any better than yours? What ever gave them the right to mock your body? I happen to enjoy both your T and your A, along with your P." I smiled up towards her, pushing my lips towards her neck. "Whatever they called you, it's not true."

"How about 'coke whore'?" she ruefully admitted. "I eat well enough and have a good metabolism, but just because of my thin frame and pale skin, they thought I was Kate Moss-like."

My jaw clenched as I broke away from her for a moment, angered by a name so much worse than 'Mary.' Being virginal was nothing to be ashamed of, but to make fun of her body was beyond appalling. Although others thrive on that teasing, it's hands-off for me completely. That anyone would even contemplate her being that way, it made my blood boil.

"Rory, look into my eyes." I was firm and kind with her as I had her look down towards me. Focusing in, I decided not to delay things any longer for her. She needed release, not only from me, but the doubts from the last millennium planted by those yokels in Stars Hollow and her ex that she couldn't be beautiful.

Her gaze melted into mine so intensely. I felt my skin prick just from it. I felt the want and lust I've felt all morning, from the moment I awoke, rise up through me. Her hands were sliding beneath my cami-bra, along my bare back. She had also undone the catch on my skirt as it barely clung by a thread against my new underwear.

My left hand slid towards her legs while my right moved to caress her jaw.

I started with a compliment of her. "You are beautiful." A soft, quick kiss. "There is no one else I'd rather blow off school for." Another kiss, this one a bit deeper. "I am honored to share your bed, your friendship, your loyalty. And now..." My fingers scraped along her outer lips, weeping with want. "Your heat, desire, your lust." I went in for another kiss, this time drawing her tongue out. I pushed her so her head rested against the edge of the car door near the window, my hand running within her hair, along her smooth back. I teased her slowly, letting my fingers make a slow pump along her outer pussy. "You're so hot, Gilmore, so very wet." I tasted of her iced coffee within her mouth, so delicious.  My hand moved down to softly touch her breasts while she pushed me closer to her, pulling up the cami and letting her hands drift across my stomach.

I fought with myself to keep reined in, the skirt slowly sinking down from my hips. I tried to go back to snap it up, but Rory closed her hand around mine and then shoved it down. I got the message that I probably shouldn't keep my modesty with her voice.

"I want you so much." She rocked against my now bared thigh, having enough friction to get herself restarted. "Par, please, please." I complied with her begging, driving in the bared leg, lifting it up and down. I kept myself from trying to heighten the rubbing from the stretch fabric as each lip rubbed together on my person. "Come on, baby." We continued to kiss without cares, lips and tongues twining together in a slow dance. Her breathing, the only thing I heard, heightened awareness dampening background noise.

I began a rhythm with her, letting her flare up once again, the feel of her bare sex against mine, hair scratching along my thigh, it was an intoxicating thing feeling the taller woman against myself. I kicked off the skirt the rest of the way, leaving me in underwear, her in very little. Wrapping around her to help out, I alternated kissing with necking, letting myself wander, explore. Her breathing was so soothing to me, the noises she made showing me that what I was doing was fine for her. I kissed her anywhere I could reach, the crook of her neck being the most sensitive spot, especially towards the back. Groaning her want of more, I really wished that I could suck a mark against the exposed skin, but held back since my other bruises all over her shoulders were enough for her body to heal through the next week.

There was more play with the ice cubes within the iced coffee, with both my hands and my mouth. I slid them down her hot skin with my hands, and with one placed in my mouth, again played with each of her nipples.

"Ooooh-uhhhh, ooooh-uhhh, ugggggh!" She was downright intense, as if my attention was all she wanted. The reserved girl I knew before was turning into an outgoing woman, right before my eyes. Her nails scraped up my back softly as she tried to keep me held within her arms. I slid my thigh in and out, deeper and deeper, keeping the pace she needed. "Paris...oh my God." The stumble of her nervous voice was gone, replaced by confidence that this was right, this was what we both wanted. She screamed as I let the ice melt across the warm flesh of her breast, trails of ice water slipping down.

I continued to prepare her, listening to her gasps as I kept the grind going, my thigh coated with her slick arousal. Her eyes tightened as she felt herself convulse with each thrust, hair falling in front of her face. She hissed with each rub of the leg against the most sensitive part of her clit. I tried my best to stay in control, kissing her again along her jawline, giving her words of encouragement that the fog of making out seemed to make her even more irresistible, along with how much I wanted to return her favor from earlier.

We were soon reaching the point where she would inevitably come against me. I anticipated the moment, my skin pricking up, heightening the sensations that my girlfriend was most likely feeling from my flesh, pocked with goosebumps. I was ready to let her ride against me for the last few thrusts, the end sure to arrive soon as I called out her name, begging her to come...

Then, she began to spread out her legs. At first, I didn't sense that she was until I found my grinding became a little less targeted, and her feet unhooking from my ankle for support.

What is she doing? If you're in my shoes at that moment, you're in a panic, thinking that she's having second thoughts about everything and finally grasping that you're in the car of a girl who used to hate you with a passion, skipping school, and being sexual with her. My breath caught, dread going through me. No, no, no, no, no...

In the space of nanoseconds, my mind was thrown and I thought from the glassy look in her eyes that she was questioning everything about us. I prepared for the inevitable.

Instead of a breaking up, however, she brought her arms up from the small of my back, her hands then drifting over my shirt. I rose up, trying to maneuver in the small space between her and the roof, preparing for her to end everything.

She pulled me back down instead. Her fingers drifted across my back until they met at the top fringe of the top. Her stare on me turned focused, intense, unyielding. I became distracted by the gaze.

"Ror, whatever I did, I'm sorry." I really thought I was doing something incorrect, making her feel uncomfortable.

She just kept staring at me, her respiring still deep and wanting. My throat dried and the portion of my mind attuned to tricks was under the impression that she was trying to give me a mind-fuck to throw me off course.

You could even say that there was a quick theory that she seduced me through the last evening and morning to throw off my grade curve in AE. Hey, I might be blinded by love, but I'm still paranoid about my GPA.

Finally, she began to open her mouth to speak, the hammering of my heart buffeting my eardrums.

Her voice came out in a whisper, in a breathy tone foreign to myself. "Par, if you have to apologize for making me see I should stretch out our pleasure, you should know..." I felt in a zone with only her, nothing else going on. I hung on her words.

"I'm not sorry one damned bit." She said the profanity in a snarl, as a command, not just a passive statement.

To hammer it home, her fingers met at the hook holding me into the shelf of my bra and undid the catch. Immediately, the weight of my breasts dropped down against her, losing the perfect support, my line of cleavage expanding instantly and opening up the hidden view of my breasts to her.

Before I could say anything to dissuade her from undressing me further, she grabbed at each of my straps, pushed them down, then quickly pushed the combination garment down my torso to expose me once again to her. What she did wasn't like I did, soft and slow.

This was meant to fire me up. Blatantly eyeing up my goods, hardened from the friction and pushing against the fabric, Rory cooled herself down just enough to state she knew where my mind was at that exact moment.

"Slow is hot, slow gets me wet." Moving her hands to my sides right at the side skin of my breasts. "But I know you, hon. You want all of me, don't you?"

My breath caught once again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The slow tease, the kiss up." She pulled me down closer to her, smoothing out the top so it met exactly with the waistband of the boyshorts. "Playing with ice all over my body, kissing my breasts. I know you think that you're playing it safe with friction with your thigh to get me off." I felt a chill, both literally from my exposed skin and from how she was reading the hidden depths of my mind. I had a high temptation to take things further than friction, wanting to do much more than I had up to that point.

But she was Rory Gilmore. Mary. The one who I thought up until that dance marathon had no torch for me and would suffice Dean's sexual timeline. My dreams, I could do anything to her I wanted, without consequence. I actually thought of the relationship like a baseball glove. We had to break each other in and learn the feel of the leather before we plunged in deeper.

I meant to be spontaneous and the first thought I had when I decided to skip class and do all of this was that I would go where I want to with her. But once reality kicked in, I was content to stay in line with her wishes.

"I don't want safe," she intoned firmly, grasping me even tighter. "I want passion." Her eyes darkened, her body stiffening as her breasts jutted into my bare skin.

I felt my left arm tingle, a shock sent through it. My brain, thoughts filtering through a mile a minute. She couldn't mean...did she?

Still shocked, I tried to feel her out. "Hon, what are you saying?" This was all a dream, this wasn't happening. Rory Gilmore wasn't in my car suggesting...something I couldn't vocalize.

"You said this wasn't a race, that I should enjoy this. And I do." She bent her leg so it braced against the back of the passenger seat. "I trust in you and I don't need flowers and chocolate to let me know that. It's only been 24 days, but in that time you've given me more than Dean ever could. I want you, however you want me."

As she said this, she held back tears, her ducts clearly aroused. The passion in her voice, the want of her against me, I was overwhelmed by everything she wanted.

That she wanted me however I wanted, that was the single most romantic thing she had ever said. Looking at her, there was no fear, just an overwhelming sense of respect and admiration for me.

Also, love. I think we both know that we love each other; it just doesn't need to be confirmed. In that sense, I'll admit when she does. I won't lose her like Dean did; I refuse to.

That what I had in my mind was previously portrayed within my dreams, happening at the Inn, a different romantic setting, on her or my bed, I felt numb. Also, conflicted.

Did I really want to give her that moment, now? At 8:30 on a cold December morning, in the backseat that's hardly that of a sportscar, a model that screams boring, sophisticated, stuffy.

A moment that in the usual organization of my day, should have not been happening at all, throwing my schedule into a chaos that would take me three days to dig out of, and had effectively put an end to my attempt to be the Ironwoman of Chilton.

Our uniforms were in disarray, along with our thoughts. The fears of missing a test, gone.

Instead, I was looking into the eyes of my girlfriend, at the most important crossroads of her life. One that a week ago, I had assured Lorelai was months away.

But her other words of that night rang in my mind.

I don't want you to make promises, just let me trust you.

Rory's words then followed.

I trust in you.

I found solace in my thought after Lorelai's statement that I should be careful, but to not be afraid to go further, and she trusted me.

I had trust. But in five days, we've gone from Ice Age slow to Grand Forks flooding fast.

God help me, I was in this deep. That our passion was shared and constant--it was overwhelming me. I was scared to death, remembering the wives tales of Louise about how a first time went, that pain would be felt on her end.

I would be hurting her. I couldn't do that. Science tried to assure me that the pain and blood was only used for dramatic effect, to make bodice rippers have literal ripping within them. That when I stretched out too much years ago, I didn't even know what I did for a week.

I wanted to dip in, to breach, to make her feel good. No matter how much I knew myself, she was much different.

She was warm against me, sweaty and ruined, with a cold seatbelt buckle rested against her right hip. Skirt pushed up, her legs widened, a sheen of dampness on her mound, her clit so stiff as to probably trigger her immediately if I dared touch.

All of these thoughts within the space of a few spare seconds.

I really do want this, I told myself. I was still scared that she might change her mind. I pushed my hand towards her, slowly.

"Rory," I started to ask, every word seeming to linger on my tongue like honey. "Are you sure that you want this?" I trembled, overwhelmed by the fear I felt for her.

In that moment she looked so innocent and pious, and I suddenly felt like I would be staining her by doing this. I would forever be known as that first one in her life. The silence from her was unbearable. I swore my face was paling, my lungs barely taking in any breath.

Finally, she said something.

"No, I'm not."

Oh my God! I prepared to pull away from her, watching her blank look towards me, and knowing by asking I had ruined everything. It was over; I had gone too far. I gave her an opening to leave and she was walking out the door--

So why was my hand being pulled back towards her? Why was she settling herself deeper into the seat?

Finally, why was she putting on her game face, the one we share backstage before heading out to stage for our debates? She licked around her lips, straightened her posture and as I prepared to apologize to her.

"I'm not sure," she repeated. This time, however, she said the words in a determined voice, lowering it down.

In the matter of a second, I went from fearful I had crossed the line...

Her last two words brought everything to a head and took what we had from just experimental fun, to serious lovers.

"I'm certain." Rory's hand guided my wrist towards her core and then let it fall against the damp flesh.

My eyes widened as I saw a new side of Rory, one not even seen in her actions from last night. This wasn't just her, looking for a validation or praise.

She was raw, sexual, wanting.

"You want me," she noted again, "you want all of me. And you have me. I'm not going to pull away from you." Her intense stare got to me, making me pause a beat. Her lip slid out, her soft breath assuring.

In her eyes, I saw she wasn't scared. The barriers she put up, in front of Dean and Tristan, and to a smaller extent, Jess, had disappeared with me. She was not afraid to express what she wanted, needed, desired. She knew if she laid it out, I wouldn't be like Deano and object because of some bullshit about sex fed via the grapevine, parents, or some overzealous educator. He treated her like fragile glass, something to only caress occasionally, to not treasure and enjoy all you could.

I am not that way; I want my fingerprints, my hallmarks, all over her. I want this girl's memories filled with the caring things I did for, and with her. I needed her, I wanted her.

I had her.

We pushed together to share the kiss of finality, the long journey down from her body coming to an end. It was something to savor, the saltiness of her flesh, giving way to the sweet taste of her mouth, chocolate and vanilla mixing within my palate. She moaned within my mouth, her hands on each of my sides at my abdomen, rocking back and forth against me. I could sense the anticipation she felt for having me in her.  Laid out upon the seat, her legs were spread open as I pushed my fingers tentatively along her lips.

She wasn't just wet for me, but dripping. I dipped them  tentatively along the outline of her slit. The dampness contained along it was definitely arousing her further, coating her mound in a sheen, anticipating what I wanted to do. I dipped in along each lip, pushing in a bit deep, meeting at her clit. She hissed with each brush with each finger. She pushed against me, scooting up to give us both as comfortable a laying position as we could get within our confined space.

"Need you," she murmured softly. "Need you so bad...inside."

I pulled away from her. "Soon, I promise." Then I moved my free hand to cup at her breast as I straddled above her, letting my breasts dip down in front of her. She reflected what was going through her at that moment, so trying to debate with herself whether this was right. I teased her some more, letting my middle dip in between her opening. I made a stroking motion, immersing them in short strokes to being with, trying to familiarize her with my idea of a backseat seduction. No heavy petting or poodle skirts here, folks. I gauged her voice and facial expression, letting my hand wander her breast around and under, towards the nipple. Her hands grasped my arms, looking for leverage, her vision alternating between my breasts and face.

"Oh my...more, more, please." She was needy for more, so a couple more millimeters within her core. I changed to my index finger, closing my others into a fist, letting her decide how many she wanted within her. I hooked the finger, letting it cover more space than just straight. I felt her lubricate with each pull in, little resistance stopping me. "Par...oh Par, hon...mmmmm."

I at first tried to hold off on taking dirty, feeling it a bit inappropriate for the situation. I deepened my strokes to below the first knuckle, surveying her to see what I had to do to bring her to her knees. At first she wasn't reacting, but when I slid the pad over a thin spot within, she definitely reacted. Her eyes snapped shut and she gripped tightly on my arm.

"GODDDD!! OH, GOD!! MORE!"

A little further in and she had an equal reaction when I touched her in the same spot on the other side. It wasn't a G-spot, but they still were sensitive points. I let myself push in just a bit deeper, kissing her to keep her shouting down, wrapping a leg against hers to keep her stiff.

I kept stroking her lightly, letting my finger push in and slide out, stroking her tenderly. Each new stroke, pushing closer and closer in. Her nose wrinkled up as she tried to gain more oxygen into her lungs than usual, with her eyes closed, tightening on each stroke. This is how I warmed her up for the first few moments, feeling her up and at the same time watching her reactions to each touch. It was getting to the point, however, that I could touch her finger and get an orgasmic yelp.

I saw her eyes tightened, overwhelmed by the new touch of my fingers against her. I pushed a bit closer, sliding the finger in along her clit. Her muscles clenched around me.

"You're so tight," I complimented, "I feel how tight you are, oh my God." I watched her pant and moan as she pushed her legs back together a bit, just enough to close my finger in against more flesh. "You're a thing of beauty, Ror."

"Oooohhh...ohhhh...ohhhh yes!" I watched her face tighten up while her breasts slightly bounced as I went in and out while she met each of my strokes. "Oh God...Oh God. You make me feel so sexy."

I commented on that. "You don't need me to confirm that; you are sexy already." I smiled down, letting her grasp me even tighter. I wiped her arousal across her stomach, trying to keep the friction going, pushing her as far as she could get within the car. Then I went back in for more, alternating between kissing and teasing at her pussy, her face reddening as time went by.

Eventually, I found myself meeting the breach and her words were even more frenzied as we went on. She begged for much more but I held back to continue the tease until I had her right where I wanted her. Giving me a look, her eyes glazed, hair in disarray, her body so sore from the compressed space this was happening in.

"Paris, PLEASE!" she screamed in desperation, her voice hoarse. "I wanna cum so bad, I want this. Ohhh...ohhhh...aaaaahhhhh..." She threw back her hair, sweat dappling her forehead. "Give it to me, please."

I smirked, looking her over, becoming aggravated she wasn't getting to peak yet. "Remember, it's not a road race."

"I know...I know..." Her right hand moved from my back and towards her core. "But it's just that I'm so horny."

"How hot are you?" I inquired, thinking about exactly the track we were going on. "I've never heard you say that...word." My free hand slid across her stomach, slowly. "Come on, Lorelai, let me know what I can do for you. I'm all yours."

"I want to get off," she gritted out. "I'm tired of teasing, I just...I've never felt so hot before."

"How do you want to get off?"

A dirty look directed my way. "How do you think?" She bared her teeth towards me.

"I mean, how filled do you want to be?" I brought her attention down towards her mound, sliding in that solitary finger. "Do you usually suffice with just a single finger, like this?" I pushed it in, up to near the thin membrane, teasing her all the way. She gasped against me, breathing deeply. "Or, do you want more?"

"More?" Her eyes rolled back.

"As in," I smirked, "more fingers. For now, nothing more than two...like this." I eased it into her, then began a slow stroke just near her inner opening, letting only the tips of my nails breach past the small circle. "How do you like that? The way you feel right now, you're so tight against my fingers." I deepened my voice, her reaction going from shock to awe. "Sometimes, when I think about you, I picture myself within your body, stroking yourself, running my hands all over, until I begin to stroke myself, overwhelmed. I think of your small breasts as mine, your thin frame, your small feet, shapely legs, your freckles. I think of how it feels to be you, and I picture myself as you, so turned on." My other hand ran through her hair, as I laid soft kisses along her neck. "So many times, thinking of you like this, vulnerable, in my arms, yet complacent in how much we feel for each other."

"Ahhh...that feels so good, you're right." She hissed, settling herself more into her lay. "I want more, please." I pushed in a bit deeper, the strokes moving to just a bit into the fingertips. "Paris...oh my."

"How do they feel?" I felt nervous that the texture of my fingers had a bit of scratchiness to them.

"Perfect," she murmured, like she was enjoying ice cream. "Mmm-yeah." She repositioned her hands to thumb across my breasts in her grasp, each opposing thumb across a nipple. "I want to feel you in my hands."

"What do you want to do?"

"Play with them." Her fingernails scrubbed around each nipple. "I didn't get enough time to lavish them last night or this morning." I shivered while her pads triggered the erect tissue, stiffening them. "Pushing them in and out...suckling each of them...enjoying the soft feel of each of them." I kept the stroking up, while her voice varied tone. "I can't get my mind off them...sometimes I feel so perverted."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm not supposed to have these kinds of thoughts about you." She blew a frustrated breath out. "I watch you in the Franklin office, and before I admitted, there were those mistakes in proofing I made occasionally." She felt guilty admitting it. "Sometimes I'd do it just so I could see you mad at me, and I know when you come to my station, you always come from the right."

"And?" Oh, this was so good!

"There were times you weren't fully tucked in, and when you'd bend down to tell me you I had a hanging participle, I would eye you up from the bottom. I could see into the space between your blouse, and when you were wearing the blazer open, I could see fully in." Her hands moved further in. "I would even err when you were having a bad day, because you'd be on a literal tear, all wound up." I was stuck, watching her wander deeper and deeper within this trigger. I was also feeling my anger rise up, but for a completely different reason.

"You took advantage of my anger?" I gritted out. She nodded and then circled each finger around the stiff, hard flesh.

"When you're all wound up, it's so fucking sexy. I would sit there, taking in your lecture about how my writing sucks, looking unnoticed into your blazer, your shirt, unnoticed. I would bait you, hon, get you all riled up. I didn't capitalize a river name for instance," She softly slid a second nail at the same time across my ducts. "I would fight with you about it, in circles, even get to the point where I insulted you for editing my work. You'd bark at me that I was such a Pollyanna and too optimistic, and all the while, I'm playing a twisted game with you. Getting you all hot for my own depravement. Because when you get angry..." she pushed in against me. "You get horny." I felt my fingers shift deeper, and she shrieked loudly at the feeling.

"You get horny, you get wound up..." That's when I found my breasts being pinched, softly, by her. "And with that, I get to see you without getting one article of clothing off. Stiff within that uniform, you snarl something about me being a lost cause, you stomp off to your desk, and as I shout towards you that if you were a better delegator I wouldn't make so many errors, I get to watch that walk of yours; the classy stomp." I moved closer to her, trying to hold myself within my own walls. "Your shoes make that sound, that harsh slam against the hardwood, and your stride is as fluid as a runway model's."

"Rory, I'm serious. I'm warning you!" I tried to dissuade her from stopping, only to have her close her legs together.

"Your skirt, caught in a wind, giving me just that much of a glance at your tight ass." I felt my control quickly slipping, her voice taking on a mixture of arousal and bitterness. "I'd get the full picture, the backs of your legs, and then the careful plunge of it back onto your chair. I'd watch all the way." She laid a kiss on the side of my neck, moving up as I willed myself to stop. "You always spin the chair counter-clockwise once before you sit back down towards the front of the room so you can get a survey before you sit down." The muscles in my hands tightened a bit more. "It always goes the same way, and you always cross your right leg over your left leg, every time, an ingrained habit."

"I swear to God--" My face was overheating as she felt me up, being so naughty. Her eyes were intense as she obliterated any chance of me taking her slow and tenderly.

"I always looked," she admitted, stone cold. "You kick up that leg and it made the skirt rise. I had only a bit under a half a second glance at you, but I see clearly. And every time, no matter how buried in a task I was." My fingers straightened out, steadying. "I always looked. I retained. I got you mad, used that for myself, and then when I got a look at what's beneath your skirt..." It was at that moment she took her hands from my breasts, and down towards my lower back, her fingers hooking into the waistband of my boyshorts. "I would wish that I was the one to loosen you up, in every way I possibly could."

Her eyes were fiery and I could read her mind at that exact moment. No way was she thinking innocently, or cuddled up in her comfy Stars Hollow safety blanket. No matter how much she denies it, she is just like her mother in many more ways, beyond the mother/daughter relationship and coffee addiction. On the outside, she might be naive and mousy.

Inside, her chromosomes have that rebellious nature passed down by every female Gilmore, that one inherited line of genetic code that made Lorelai follow her impulses instead of what society accepted as proper. The one that guided her towards Christopher, and in turn, gave me my girlfriend. I still remember way back, when I wasn't close to knowing Rory, hearing the tales of scandal at the society parties Mother threw at the Manor, watching Emily and Richard react violently to any mention of their daughter in proper circles and her life as it was. I was just an observer, a stupid kid in a pretty pink dress, supposed to be more concerned with a My Little Pony collection than the adults.

As I looked at her, I could swear that I could feel what Christopher Hayden did the moment he realized he wanted Lorelai, wherever they did it (trust me, I'm not gonna ask), and when she also realized those sparks were shared. The pure lust and want within the both of us, what they had in '83. That Rory could be just as devious as her mother was to get what she wanted. The very nature of a Gilmore, be they in insurance, inn management, or the twelfth grade.

I couldn't deny myself anymore. I wanted to make her come by my hand, and it would be imprinted on her mind, forever.

My eyes were intense, burning a stare into her as I scanned her tall frame. To get me all riled up like I was, she had serious ovaries to do so.

I trusted that she knew what she was doing though and she had no fear apparent.

"I want you, now." I said firmly to her, the anticipation within her nigh. My fingers deep within her quim, I watched her face as I pulled them out for the drive to push all the way through.

Her eyes were on me as she gave me the last word.

"Please!" Her legs opened up, she relaxed her body, and with that, we were both gone. Hoping I wouldn't hurt her, I turned off my mind and let it take leave temporarily so I could enjoy this.

I laid against her lengthwise, moving my free hand down to the small of her back to support her. My fingers were straight as I forced them in with a swift movement, watching for her reaction to know if I did something wrong. But there was no reaction to start out with, Rory closing her eyes beforehand as if she thought there was pain to overcome.

There was none, however; she easily accommodated me, and beyond a bit of a pulling apart of the membrane against my force, she didn't feel anything but pleasure.

"Ooohhhh...." She pushed against the door, the feeling going through her as I pulled in and out, trying to get her used to it. "Yess..."

"How deep have you gone before?" I asked inquisitively.

"Not quite...that deep." I pushed in a bit more. "Aaaahhhh. Oh my!"

I speeded my strokes even more after that, trying to force the fingers in enough. She accommodated me, letting me rub her clit with my thumb as I attempted to double the pleasure. She tried to force her eyes open to watch me, but it was hard as she took in the feelings overwhelming her so much. Winding her up through a whole morning, she wasn't going to stretch it out any longer than she had to. The slickness of her arousal coated my hand, dripping a bit down towards my wrist. I pushed against her, focusing on just her, until eventually her legs had wrapped around me and she had me ensconced in her grasp. Eventually she began to tighten around my hand, opening herself more to me as I slid in and out.

My hair splayed out against her bust as we developed a sort of rocking up-and-down fast rhythm, with occasional stops to settle herself down and reposition herself because of the sticky leather beneath her. I encouraged her to scream and yell however she wanted, but she kept herself relatively calm. I kissed her in those settling times to assure that she was doing fine.

"You're OK, just keep it going, come on, you'll get there. God, Gilmore, you're so tight." My voice bounced as I tried to keep my own self in control. The problem with the cramped quarters of the car was that I was right against her thigh, and well, guess where it rubbed? I had to keep myself above a few inches to keep my focus on her.

"Paris...Paris..." She was looking so ruined, the skirt sitting on her waist wrinkled beyond belief, hair sticking along her shoulder. I kept my thumb against her clit, making small circles in both clockwise and counterclockwise, hoping to make her feel something so hard she saw stars.  I kept pushing in and out, a constant rhythm only interrupted when I wiped my fingers along her thigh when I didn't seem to have any friction, but right back again.

Trying to stay out of her way, I tried to keep myself as high as I could intimately so I wasn't rubbing against her. I didn't want her moment to be ruined by me so distracted. For some reason I still felt some guilt for coming during the phone call with her. I wanted it to be her moment.

"Baby, push against me," she begged, but I shook my head in denial. "You can...multi-task."

"I said no," I growled. "Your first time is yours, not mine." I pushed in a bit more, intending it as a distracting move. She gutturally screamed my name, in combination with the f-word. Throwing her head back, she bumped it against the sill of the car door, but still she went on, asking me to speed up even more for her.

"Please...please, I wanna cum for you." Her voice was veiled by heaving breathing. She pushed herself up a bit more to meet my pussy, but I pushed her down again to the seat. "Come on, Par, please?"

I kissed her along her jaw, trying to reassure her that I wasn't looking for reciprocation. "No, Gilmore."

"But I--"

"NO!" I pushed in for a large, deep stroke, hoping to distract her. She cringed in her position, and eventually she let the matter lie so I could continue to spoil her.

Truly, the feel of her was like silk as I thrust in and out with her, continuing to push her ever closer. I could feel her pressed breasts bounce up and down against me and the waves began to be more together with each new thrust. I spread her out more, letting my fingers tease her on the inside, both sides. I enjoyed the power I held over her to make her this way, to turn her into nothing more than a melting puddle.

She rode me hard, her teeth biting into my shoulder as I found myself as deep as possible, hitting a sensitive spot. She whined to get off, begging me for release, my thumb massaging her clit, my free hand cupping her ass. She blew my hair from her mouth as it fell from my shoulders, overheated and a deep shade of red. Calling my name, asking for more.

This is what made this morning all worth it, really. To see Rory Gilmore in that state, on the cusp of her first release with my help. I want to keep that image in my mind forever.

"Oooohh...oooohhh...ohhhh yes..."

She was almost getting there, I could feel her clenching against my hand, tightening against it in a vise grip. Hard panting, breasts springing against mine, her skin so hot. I deepened and speeded my thrusts, trying to get her off in a frenzied rush. I had teased her way too long and I wanted to see her ruined from what we did.

"Rory, you're almost there, come on, come on, dear." My voice was panicked and in the back of my mind I was hoping I was doing this right. I was thankful that she hadn't bled, but I knew there was a chance she might not come the first time.

That thought would end up very wrong, and oh so shattered within a space of seconds.

Within another few moments, she had pushed me down against her so her right thigh was flush with my crotch, and hooking her fingers into the waistband of my boyshorts, she began to drive into me, despite my pleas not to. I tried to push away, but to no avail.

"Rory, this really is not about me," I gritted out. "You don't have to do this f--ooooooohhhrrrr me!!"" I closed my eyes as the jarring electricity of my own want went through me. She kept me pushed down, putting finality to the finishing position with her words.

"You're right, I don't have to do this." She grinded against me again, the stretch material of the cotton digging right into my clit. "But I want to." The authority in her voice made me quiver and from there, we were both gone from that point forward. Pushing against me while I drove into her, I was overheating, unknowing previously of how wound up I was in the sex play. I kept pushing in and out, not letting my feelings overwhelm me.

The two of us in that car, I couldn't believe it myself. Panting against her, gritting out her name, I encouraged Rory along, widening my legs out. "Fuck...oh my God...Ror..." I kept stroking her, faster and faster; she was dripping with arousal and her gasps were closer and closer together, eyes even more tightly shut. Still she didn't let that distract from her own goal for me, and after a few strokes out of rhythm, I met her thigh at the seam, while my strokes were getting closer and closer together. We kissed each other passionately, letting our long-hidden sexuality come out of hiding. I just wanted to see that deep glow of hers for myself

"Par, oh baby, come on...bring me home, make me come..."

"Rory...please..."

"You're pounding against me...I'm so fucking wet...ohhh...ohhh..."

"Push it in further...I want to feel the fabric deep...Rory...Rory..."

"Paris, fuck me...oh Christ, I'm almost there..."

Our eyes were both shut tight; we couldn't see each other, but there was still an overload of senses. I could smell her, so raw, her scent mixed with mine. It hung in the air of the luxury car. She nipped at my lip, I bit at hers, tasting the mix of my breakfast pastry with her coffee. I kept my thumb circling her clit, the fingers slipping in and out with  ease and our words hung in the air, the connection we were making now forever solidified in our histories. I moved my hand down towards her stomach, sucked in as she anticipated her release. Meanwhile, she kept pushing her leg against me, the crotch of the article dampening with my building cum. I didn't intend to ruin them so fast, but I wasn't going to stop her and tempt fate. The underwear felt so good against me, and I dug in lower against her leg as I felt her convulse. I began to push against her harder, hoping to meet her evenly.

"Is this what you've thought...of?" I spit out. "Making me this way...making you come with me?"

"Yes...oh yes..." She drove her hips against me, trying to push me as deep as I could go. "Fuck...oh God, almost there!"

"I am too," I screamed. "Gilmore, ohh...ohhh...ahhhh..." My hand was clenched hard within her, her walls squeezing tight. She pumped herself against me in short bursts while increasing her friction.

I began to feel disorientated, dizzy, yet I still kept my awareness. She yelped, her face a shade of deep blood red as she began to hit her peak.

That was the last thing I'd see for the next few minutes. Rory drove herself deep against me and it was a rough stroke, driving right against my hard clit. I pulled her against me hard, while I drove my hand in for the final strokes.

We went by touch and scent as we finished off, and to describe what we both went through in simple words, I really can't do it beyond, uhh, wow. I heard her screams as she closed in around me, and as I felt the tingles go all through my body. Both of us taut and straight, we rode out the last waves, together, in each other's arms, kissing wildly, both of us ruined and far gone. I felt her heart pound hard against my chest while her hands grasped at me for dear life; my own grip was so tightened on her I felt like I'd crush her thin body with one hand.

"Yessss!" I rose up, rubbing against her, rubbing her bare leg as my hand slid in and out through her come. My fingers were sore, soaked, slippery as she spilled over. "Gilmore...Gilmore..." I felt all sticky and damp down there, and so hot and warm, sweat dripping from my brow. I listened more to her though, wanting to keep this more her moment than mine. I slowed my stroking down, making ever slower circles with my thumb.

We began to wind down slowly, letting ourselves calm as we came down from our crashing climaxes. My body felt so heavy, suddenly overwhelming against Rory, and I tried to distract myself from thinking I was crushing her. I began to slowly pull out of her, while letting my other free hand rest against her abdomen, her diaphragm tightening and releasing slowly in a slow manner.

I wanted to just touch her, to feel her...have that safety cushion of warmth. It was a reassuring thing for me to know that she was going to be there for me after this morning, that the moment was special to the both of us. Going back in time, I knew that if this moment was shared with Tristan, it would be different, and cold, and that instead of driving him up a wall, he would have forced the moment from me, and it would have ended within seconds, probably with him wanting to go back to Duncan and Bowman.

I shuddered thinking about that and went back to the moment I was sharing with Ror. Finally opening my eyes, I was witness to a beautiful sight, watching her relax, softly gasping as she settled herself back down. The skirt, truly wrinkled around her, her bra in a heap next to her side. Hair wild, face deeply flushed, her body fully exposed, I brought my focus down as I pulled my hand out the rest of the way. She was dripping wet, the small triangle of hair between her sex pocked with a sheen of wetness.

Truly, she was beautiful. But I knew still, it was her first time, and she'd probably be a tinge sore from letting herself go. Immediately after I pulled out, she closed her legs together, cringing.

"Oww..." I felt concern for her, frowning at what she was feeling.

"I...I didn't hurt you, I hope." Immediately, she shook her head that I didn't.

"I'm alright, really." She tried to push herself up as I sidled against her. "Just recovering from it. All just a repetitive motion, up and down, something expected." Hair in front of her face, she brushed it out of the way with her fingertips. "The only thing I feel down there is an odd pang, probably just from stretching, nothing that I'm cringing about." Crossing her legs together, she hissed a bit.

"Are you sure?"

"Paris, thanks for your concern." She smiled. "But really, it's no worse than the first few times after...well, the thing that reared its head during the President's Physical Fitness Test for me and forced me to use that certain item." Rolling her eyes up, she looked towards me. "Another sign that Mother Nature intends for me to hate playing sports forever."

"Please tell me you at least had a dime on you." I flopped down against her, wryly laughing.

"I will owe Andrea Sherman one Tampax to my grave, I'm afraid. Thank God I was wearing dark clothes that day."

"What a story I can tell about the first time we were physical," I off-handed. "You really are just like your mother."

"I resent that! I am not like her!" She looked like she was shocked at first but began to laugh.

"Really, Gilmore, you are. Seriously, talking about your period after you came." I pulled her close, sliding my hands up her sides. "Gilmores are known for trying to misdirect their afterglows."

"Alright, so I'm a bit overwhelmed after...that," she admitted. "I...I just, um...well, you know." Her gaze towards me, she struggled to find the SAT analogy to describe our activity. "Well, I...oh man, come on!"

"What's wrong, Ror?" I questioned, a bit cavalier. "Did I render you speechless?" I slid the damp left hand up towards her face, not willing to wipe it off yet.

"Of course not," she denied, while trying to find words. "I'm good. Happy. You know me, all good and glowy, filled and that kind of thing."

"Those are just 'me statements' of feelings, not a competent view of how you're dealing with my ravishing." I ran my fingers through her hair. "I know you can form complete sentences to describe your feelings."

"Not right now," she admitted. "How am I supposed to put all of this into a sentence? I can't, because this is something I've been thinking about for months, getting so close and intimate with you. Four weeks ago I'm all 'Dean can't get it over the plate,' and now here I am, with you, in the back of your car, and I...I..." She looked up towards the sunroof, feeling pensive and trying to collect her thoughts. "Why is it so different with you?" Her face straightened as everything began to hit her.

"Different?" I tried to dig deeper into the word clue.

"Ever since I met Dean, I had all these chaste thoughts, and we connected through cornstarch, soda and other grocery items. I was getting content with being a regular woman, indebted to her future husband the hockey star while she cooked and cleaned and gave up her dreams. By the time he built the car for me, I felt hopeless and lost that he'd ever see things my way."

I watched her find her words but also an emotional trigger as she began to tear up, realizing exactly what was happening. "I mean he never listened to me, he didn't care. I'd ask him to get hot, he wouldn't. He'd touch me at the wrong time, or in the wrong place. I felt so uncomfortable with him, but yet, I stayed, wanting to be loyal, not wanting to break his heart, to cause pain to anyone." To listen to her describe her desolation about being with a boy she fell out of love with, it saddened me deeply to hear her like this. "I mean when I threw myself at him, basically screamed that I wanted him, he turned me down, coldly, as if I wasn't one to decide when I was ready to lose it. That I had no stake in my sexuality, and I would forever be defined as being born five months before my mother turned seventeen. I can't be this way, I can't be passionate, and that I have to hold in. If I have passion, it has to come out during quiz bowl or in a project of some kind." I pulled myself closer to her, letting myself feel her warmth, and wiped the tears from her eyes. Her cheeks heated; I was enamored with her anger and pain towards her past.

She brought her voice to a whisper as she brought the discussion full circle back towards me. "But with you, it is different. A good kind of different." I stroked her cheek as she went on. "You don't bullshit, you lay everything out on the table, and if I hold back on a topic because I might not want to bring it up, you're on me anyways until I give up, and I can open up to you without anything getting back beyond Miss Patty. I just...there was no second-guessing, and you read me like an open book." Her lip quivered as she slid her left hand into my right. "Honestly? I didn't go into this last night thinking that this was going to be 'the moment,' or anything beyond what went on this morning. I thought it was just going to be fun, another bend in the road. But as it went on, I don't know."

Shaking her head, Rory unexpectedly gave me a window into what went through her head. "When I was in the closet while we both changed, I had a moment to myself, to reflect and think about where I should go next. Coming out of a shower with you and after sharing all that stuff last night, I didn't expect you to open up, to relish your role as my girl. I thought you'd be back in Le Pitbull mode and serious."

She breathed in deeply and pulled me close against her. "I thought so many times this morning I was pushing you too far, giving you the gifts and having you try them on, along with my...enthusiasm to go down on you. I thought you'd want me to stop and focus on school."

Both of us were looking at each other, thinking we would second-guess the morning, that on further reflection, we had lost the spark. Once again, the 'china doll' analogy was in effect, the one she used to describe Dean's regarding her.

But I can't do that with Rory. She's not off-limits; she's a real woman with real needs. Judging from her orgasm, she really needed them filled! I didn't want her to think that way about herself, that she was off-limits and closed off.

"I don't want to," I said, stroking her hair. "I don't want safe, Rory." I slid my left hand across her cheek, until the fingertips I used came to rest against her lips. "I'm not regretting what we did this morning at all. Yes, I'm scared, and I'm definitely still learning how to control my urges and balance them with our friendship. The last few hours definitely built on missing each other, wanting each other, desiring, needing. But in the long run, I know that if we talk every day, no matter how mundane we are, we'll both have pretty clean bedposts to hang our bras off from." I bent down, kissing her cheek as she suckled lightly at my fingertips. "I admit, what you said about me being dull and conservative, it did piss me off. It got me mad. But that's it, because the way I have been, it's true. I held back because I never had an outlet before you, and I fear you might run away from me." She licked the glistening liquid from the tips, tasting herself, mixed with my salty flesh. It was wonderful to behold, that she was coming down with her own scent upon my fingers. "You know how happy I felt when you told me we could skip school?" She nodded. "I enjoyed the rush, loved to see you indulge me in my naughtiness."

"Par," she purred, "you definitely do naughty the best." I settled down against her, finally feeling my body settle down, and moved my hands back down towards her sides. "I would have never expected this to happen this morning, but..." A small, deep kiss. "When I look back on this morning years and years from now, I can say that my first time certainly wasn't boring."

"Was it bad?" I asked honestly. "Lay it on me, I can take it."

"Oh, no, of course not! Did you really think that?"

"I just wanted to make sure," I cleared up.

"Let me put it this way for you in simple terms." She then wrapped her arms around my neck and brought me very close. "Before last night, I may have wanted to have sex with a guy one day. But what you did?" She stopped for a dramatic pause. "You made me yours. I can't imagine anyone else with me. I mean, I'll be honest, I had fears of the first time, of being broken. I'd dream about Dean and wake up in a frozen sweat and go back to bed with a pillow between my legs. I had bad advice, Lane telling me I shouldn't do anything, and Lorelai? Forget it!" There she was, crying once again, as she let me rest in the crook of her shoulder. "You took me here to this beautiful pond. Then let me go at my own pace, and eased into me slowly. You encouraged me, was playful when I wanted you to be, indulged me, and you even gave into my want that you should share my moment with me, it was just..just..."

She struggled to put our time into words, crying against my bare shoulder, speechless as to how her first time had turned out. She wrapped against me and all I could do was hug her back, soothe her further. Let her know that she was right to feel the way she did.

"It's OK, dear, let it out. It's OK, thank you, Rory." I straightened her hair with my fingers, then let them play down her back, along her spine, just letting her go on and on. She was beautiful against me, her heartbeat in time with my own, her warm body heat against me. I just stayed that way, assuring her that we both did things right, that there was no rhyme or reason, no plan to how we ended up together. Sex would change things between us, to be sure, but our friendship was building up within the relationship to insulate any fears that it could tear us apart. We needed each other, two halves to a whole. Soft whispers, inside references, hushed words of want towards each other.

I could just imagine what were to happen if the roles we took this morning were to be switched. God, to have her against the sink in her kitchen, or in her room. I felt prickles across my body just thinking about that!

Soon though, I realized that time was probably flying by. Looking towards the console in the front as the both of us got up, stiff and worn out, I expected that not much time had passed.

Well, it was, to use one word, late. Late as in, twenty minutes had already passed in second period, and time flew by longer than expected for the both of us.

"Wow, we just matched Louise's stamina," I joked. "Usually she's all about the ten and out, but damn."

Rory rolled her eyes at me and shook her head. "Hey, that was all your doing!"

"All my doing, Rory Cum-more?" Oh, had I finally found a nickname for her. She looked at me, shocked. "What, it's true! You're like a regular sexual Old Faithful!"

"I do not!"

"Face it, dear, you are blessed with the slickest vagina in all of Chilton and you've just given it all to me!" I squealed as she pelted me with her bra before she put it back on. "OK, so you don't like that first name, how about...Jelly Belly?"

"Oh, my God!" She shook her head. "No, uh-uh, not going to happen, Par-Bear."

"What, you have no need for the KY at all, it's all you!"

"I am not listening to this." She covered her ears and slid on her bra. "Great, I lubricate like I have a Vaseline pump up my hoo-hah."

Great, now I was the one crying...from laughter! The way she throws those lines at me, she makes even the most dull one-liner seem like it came from Ruth Buzzi. "You can throw it on your resume...Hello, I'm Rory Gilmore, and I bring excellent writing skills to your paper, along with a pussy rated at 10W30!" I felt myself convulse from laughter as I looked at her, giving me 'the look.' Blowing up in her hair, she then turned on her smile and put me in the corner.

"Miss Gellar, may I point out that where you grinded against me, there is a 5x2" patch of dark plum wetness?" She brought her eyes down towards my crotch, unnoticed until that moment by me because I was more concerned with her than myself.

Uhh, yeah, look who's talking now. I was embarrassed by my own appraisal of her arousal when I wasn't exactly a dry tap myself. I clicked my tongue on the roof of my mouth and shook my head.

"Fine, we're both bad," I admitted. "But I still stand by my assertion that you get wetter than I do."

"Another item in the blackmail grab bag, I guess. You have the tattoo, I get really damp." Both of us were flustered and happy as I grabbed towards my blouse on the steering wheel and put my camisole back on, and we tried to talk through how we were going to come up with the perfect excuse as to why we missed a 1/4 day of class. We started with oversleeping (ruled out because of our well-known punctuality), turned towards a sudden detour (works maybe in October, but not after construction season's end), and of course, the old 'we didn't know Monday wasn't an off day' chestnut (yeah, sure, we know it's been a day back in every Connecticut school for fourteen years).

"You had to change a tire," Rory finally came up with as she wrapped her blouse around her, buttoning it in the middle. "Um, you do, right?"

"Why wait for AAA when the tools are at your disposal? I helped my Daddy out with one on a trip up to Halifax once, and it came naturally." I added on further to the excuse. "Only, let's not say the tire was slashed. My on-screen navigation does have a air pressure monitor on it, so, we go over a small stone, one I didn't notice Tuesday afternoon. Once we got out into the traffic jam of doom, we sat and sat, the tire let out just enough air to alert us to a problem, and I pulled off at Cromwell to add tire inflator gel to seal it up until I can get to the mechanic."

"It's great, very good idea," she agreed, smiling brightly, but shaking her head. "We are very, very smart, the both of us."

"We are." We were both sitting in the backseat at that point, hand in hand. "Almost."

"Why do you say that?"

"Next time we skip school to neck, I'm bringing Saran Wrap and a change of underwear for you." Laughing, I was suddenly enveloped by an ired girl.

"Paris?" She looked at me firmly.

"Mm-hmm."

"If this gets back to Lorelai, I'm asking Fran for baby pictures. Embarrassing pictures. Of you naked in the bath playing with a rubber duckie and bubbles, or pretending you're Rainbow Brite with a Sprite doll. We will mock you, and mock you often."

"Great, the 80's are coming back to haunt me!" I slapped my head and rolled my eyes at her, but still smiled. "Have I told you how much I hate Louise for telling you what I watched when I was younger?"

"Better Rainbow Brite than Barbie dolls, at least she had the whole proto-feminism thing going for her."

"She's like the Joan of Arc of 80's cartoons, though without being burned at the stake." The both of us just went on talking after that, in the backseat of the Jag as we dressed, and as we enjoyed the afterglow of the morning, I definitely knew that I had no regrets about where everything led up to since last night around 7:30.

I'm thinking about everything that's ensued within the last few hours, next to Rory, as we pull into my parking space, the clock reading 9:49am. Our clothes are straight, uniforms fully on, and hair brushed as well as we could with the one we had to share together. Both of us are visibly nervous, and as I turn off the engine, the adrenaline rush I had from skipping the first two classes has worn off.

I'm screwed. My average is going to dip below 97.5, and oh dear God, I've skipped a class. No, plural that; classes! Somehow an image in my mind is building of Charleston hauling us both by the ear into his office and giving us the fourth degree. Yeah, I said fourth, the kind that burns bones. Oh God, oh God, oh God...

"Par?" I'm imagining the guy in my face telling me I've just gone Slutty Sandy on him and I'll be lucky to get into the Fox Institute of Business to pursue a major in massage therapy...

"Uh, hon? I didn't know that shade of white was ever possible." I'm stunned in place with Rory's hand on top of mine. "I promise you, being late isn't the end of the world."

"But...but, what if he's mean?" Yeah, good job there, Gellar, sound weak. "It was all worth it, but they hate tardiness."

"We came in though, that's all that should matter." She held my shaky hand tightly. "Look, we're going to be fine. They'll probably make a quick joke about us finally being late and sending us on the way down to the gymnasium, where we can shower and smell all non-sexy again."

"But it might get around that I'm late. I'm the iron woman of the school, I have never missed a class, ever!"

"Sheila Drake has missed three classes though, so you're still on top of her." She then reminds me that I shouldn't doubt what I did.  "Let's repeat it again, this morning was worth it. We both enjoyed it. I'm going to walk around all funny all day because of you and the pleasant hum between my legs, and you're going to get heartened every time you see me today."

"I know," I said, beginning to calm down and open the door. "But...will you still touch me in RN? You may have already gotten your fill of me this morning."

Suddenly, she pulls at my arm and brings me back into the car. "Baby..." she lowers her voice and slides her fingers up my wrist. "I can never get enough of you, there's no doubt about that. I will touch and massage you like I usually do. Though I might do something different at lunch, I have to study. I might just do a granola bar in the library while I look over my materials for international journalism."

"Oh, well I understand," I say, a bit disappointed.  "I can't have you all the time."

"Actually," she purrs, "I might need a little help..." Uh, her hand is sliding up my thigh again. "I'll need the privacy of a quiet study room, with the shade drawn to block out distractions. Since you know much more about international affairs in Dubai and media policies in the Emirates, seeing as you've been there, I could use your...expertise." Oh my, I'm losing my breath and I'm really beginning to hate this damned tie around my neck. Brain, help me out here, please? I'm begging you!

"I'll help you, but we can't, do stuff, you know?" OK, there, she'll settle down now, really, honest.

"Paris, we agreed not to kiss in Chilton, which is all we did. I remember what you said exactly, nothing blown, nothing implied, just no kissing." Stop, oh God, why does her voice have to be so fucking hot and wanting when she's flirting with me heavily? "I never heard anything from either of us that we couldn't tease and touch, or slip out of our shoes, stroke each of our ankles with our toes, or slide a hand, or a foot, up our skirts." She pouted her lips out towards me. "We should have thought this through more long term, probably."

"Can I add it now?" I whined.

"Unfortunately, you're currently blinded by the thought of me all soapy and wet in the shower, so we'll have to wait until Franklin time to rehash details." My face warmed as I tried to stop her.

"Please stop flaunting that you topped me in that contract law unit last semester, Gilmore!" I pull her hand away, but as I exit the car, she one-ups me one last time.

"Let me cite the ruling of Turnabout v. Fair Play then; I must return the favor to you, Par. So, you're pretty much doomed." Stepping out of the car, she has a smirk all the way towards me, and then I follow her, lovesick as she walks into Ambrose while my shaky legs follow her forward.

"Who's the Dark Mistress now?" I mumble under my breath, trying to calm my heartbeat. She turns back around towards me.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing." I play off as innocent, trying to get back on focus. We take the hall towards the office, and as we look up at the door tag, I feel so strange being at the attendance office without a doctor's appointment taking me away. We both walk in together, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as we watch Ms. James feeding attendance Scantron sheets into a scanner.

I wonder if it'll break when it sees Gellar, Paris with the "M" circle filled in next to it to indicate my absence. Thinking about that, I walk in, trying to make sure that my messenger bag was secure. Rory and I exchanged looks, and tried to get our story straight.

"Hello, can I help you, ladies?" Ms. James greets, taking her reading glasses off from her nose and letting them hang from their leash around her neck.

I cleared my throat, hoping that the words I said next didn't burn my tongue. "We're both, um, late." I laugh nervously. "It was the traffic and a--"

She lifted a clipboard from the shelf below the counter and slid it towards us. "Sign here, then, no need for a reason. We've kept an ear to the news this morning and the Headmaster understands."

"But we--" Rory tried to further our excuse, but I think Miss James had critical envelope moistening ahead of her.

"Ladies, you were late, it happens. You came in and that's all that's important, now sign the sheet."

Hey, if we didn't have to state an excuse, I wasn't going to argue with anyone about it. I scribbled my signature down quickly, then passed the clipboard on to Rory for her own hallmark. Within moments, the sign-in sheet was back in Ms. James's custody, and she was writing up yellow passes for us.

"Next class?"

"Gym, for both of us," Rory says. The older woman quickly wrote down the needed information, and handed the slips to both of us. "I'll let Mrs. Ryerson know you came in a bit early then if that's OK."

"That's fine." I smiled as the uneasiness disappeared and Rory felt her own worry disappear. "Thank you." We move towards the other side of the room after Ms. James acknowledged our thanks, as I prepared for a locker stop and quick run-by of Mr. Silvestri so I could get the homework. Rory stopped me before I left, sliding her hand softly into mine.

"I'll see you in class; thanks for getting the work for me." She smiles towards me one last time and runs her hand through her hair.

"No problem. Thanks Rory." I say the last portion of the sentence a little bit dreamily, which is only noticed by her as she opens the door and books it towards the athletic wing, the other way completely from me. I watch her depart from the office, already feeling over the moon about everything that's happened between us, the closeness we share. How we're both so kindred that missing her hurts me in so many ways.

I hesitate to think that this was the perfect moment for us, with little interference from anyone beyond my mother for a minute. We were both just ourselves, and as we open up more, we become inseparable. I can't picture meeting her at the Formal Saturday night at the Armory and ignoring her or just being friendly, and I just want to come out and scream that we're a couple.

But we're not ready yet; we still have so much to build on. Before we can go public, we have to make sure we can get along in private. I don't want conflict between us, and I'm willing to work with her to be less intense, more open for her. I hold so much in, I know this, and even now, she's only drawn out a few things from me that I'm shy about sharing. Doubts are part of my mindset and I think they always will be. No matter what she tells me, I always think I'm not beautiful enough, or able to meet her head-on. And there's always the fear I'll drive her away with a sudden tantrum. I may work with so many issues with Birnbaum, but I'm flawed, and I'm sure she is too. You don't get off scot-free just having your mother full-time in your life, depending on a diner owner more as a father figure than your own washout dad, or living eleven years in odd housing.

She's turned out more complex than I ever thought she was. From the problems at Stars Hollow schools, to her fractured relationships with relatives, and her own doubts as to how attractive she was to someone else, I need to be there for Rory. After next year, Lorelai isn't going to be there as much for her, and like my friendship with Louise, I can see her drifting from Lane more. I can be her lover, but I also need to make her feel as if she has a right to confide in me, to know that I keep everything she tells me confidential. I hope to be that to her, but first, we need to solidify things further than we did this weekend. Though it was very sexual and fulfilling, I know a relationship based on only sex is bound to fail. But I know we can do it.

This has been the perfect morning, I thought to myself. I didn't mess anything up, at all! Smiling, I lifted up my bag to head for the girls' locker room...

"Ahem."

Why is Ms. James clearing her throat? That's weird. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I turn around to face her.

"Look, really, we got into the--" I felt as if she was about to question my reason for tardiness.

"Miss Gellar, although I'm sure you're proud of your violet-pantied bum, the instructors and other students might not be."

"I'm wearing the skirt," I argue, "How did you know the color of--"

I slide my hand along the back of my skirt to be met with stretch cotton instead of the rough skirt fabric. On the left side, the hem of the back my skirt is tucked into the waistband of the boyshorts. Cue nervous laughter and utter mortification, along with another of my many 'moments.'

"Oh, sorry." I yank out the skirt and straighten it along my ass, hopeful that Ms. James thought it was induced from a three-hour sit in the car, not sexual. But her face is neutral, and she just stares at me blankly as I began to gather myself back together and get to gym class. I open the door and begin to walk towards the athletic wing, with my modesty thankfully intact.

So it wasn't all perfect this morning. It doesn't take away from anything we did, and thankfully no one saw me with a tucked-in skirt.

Then again, Rory did help me slide back into the skirt while we dressed in the backseat.

Wow, I just got gamed by Rory Gilmore. Never thought I'd see the day she'd get me. No wonder she booked it to the gym with all due speed!

Looks like I have to find a way to get in a little clothes-tampering of my own the next few days. Or this afternoon before we come out of the library. Do I want to show off her cute orange polka-dotted ass?

Maybe, or I could always 'accidentally' yank a button down the middle of her blouse, leaving me open to blatant eyeing her up in life sciences. Oh, I think I can get her in gym class too, since I hold Madeline's combo for safekeeping. Wonder how she'd like trying to get into gym shorts two sizes smaller than usual?

As I walk down the hall on my first ever late start, my mind's gears are back to whirring. Once again, I'll be the Dark Mistress, and it won't even hit her...

Part 18

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