Prologue
The smell of pine needles always took Lily right back. It
called up a chain of other memories that were stored in her senses for instant
replay. The rasp of the horizontal log that her shoulders had braced against,
unprotected by her camisole. The slight tang of blood in her mouth, because
that first kiss had been a little over-the-top. Neither of them had learned
much finesse yet. Neither of them had known enough to mind. The sounds of the
forest on a sultry night, the tug of damp clothes against sweaty skin. A breeze
had started just as he’d entered her, chilling them, making it almost too cool
except where their bodies met in that most ancient method of sharing heat.
Lily could recall his profile, razor-sharp and classical in
silhouette, when he turned to stare into the forest at a sudden nearby noise.
His dark hair had flopped forward into his eyes when he turned back and paid
attention to Lily again. To the girl he had courted and treated like a princess
all week. The girl he was fucking up against the back wall of the rough-hewn proscenium,
on the stage where the young performers at the camp put on shows.
The college students, there as guest instructors and
performers, were supposed to be the grown-ups. They were supposed to be
responsible, help educate the young campers, set a good example. But Lily had
been flattered by his attentions all week, even though she was the star and
received attention as if it were her due back then. He hadn’t made his own mark
yet but he was so handsome, with an intangible something that caught the eye and
made people assume he was headed for great things. He could have had almost any
girl there. Lily could have resisted, but she simply didn’t want to. She was
still too young herself to care all that much about responsibility.
It wasn’t as though they were alone in their momentary
madness. After the watery roadhouse beer, the dizzy dancing to jukebox tunes,
the whole crew of visiting instructors and performers had gone collectively
crazy with the heat. Lily doubted there was a dark corner anywhere in the camp
that summer night that didn’t host its own frantically coupling pair.
He’d been tall, but in heels her legs were nearly as long as
his. She had wound one long limb around his waist and he’d held it there with
his long pianist’s fingers. Slid his hand farther up until he could cup her ass
on one side and feel their joining with his fingertips. Lily had gasped as he’d
spread her wider, thrust deeper…clamped his mouth over hers, silencing her,
because the risk of getting caught was already too high even without the noise.
It was an almost brutal kiss. She had given it right back,
digging her fingernails sharply into his back, hard enough that he clearly felt
it even through his t-shirt. Both of them remained more or less clothed,
although Lily would realize the next morning that she was missing her
underwear. She never did know when exactly she had lost track of them or where
they wound up.
He had started out forceful but slow, measured. After that
kiss, though, something had seemed to snap in both of them. His strokes grew
faster, less controlled, and Lily’s hips worked in a frantic tempo trying to
keep up. She’d been startled when she realized she was actually going to come,
that something in the angle or the mood was adding the missing ingredient she’d
sought in vain with her ex-boyfriend Matt. Matt had been the first, and he had
worked at it. So had she. Self-conscious stopping and starting, clumsy fingers
attempting to stimulate a clitoris that had already given up in boredom and
exasperation.
That time, with that second man, it had been no work at all.
It had been like breathing, like unforced laughter. Like dancing when you
already knew the steps in your muscles and didn’t have to think anymore.
She remembered how the sensation worked its way outward, spreading
from the spot where her pelvis was tipped to let him brush against her
The smell of pine needles always took Lily right back. It
called up a chain of other memories that were stored in her senses for instant
replay. The rasp of the horizontal log that her shoulders had braced against,
unprotected by her camisole. The slight tang of blood in her mouth, because
that first kiss had been a little over-the-top. Neither of them had learned
much finesse yet. Neither of them had known enough to mind. The sounds of the
forest on a sultry night, the tug of damp clothes against sweaty skin. A breeze
had started just as he’d entered her, chilling them, making it almost too cool
except where their bodies met in that most ancient method of sharing heat.
Lily could recall his profile, razor-sharp and classical in
silhouette, when he turned to stare into the forest at a sudden nearby noise.
His dark hair had flopped forward into his eyes when he turned back and paid
attention to Lily again. To the girl he had courted and treated like a princess
all week. The girl he was fucking up against the back wall of the rough-hewn proscenium,
on the stage where the young performers at the camp put on shows.
The college students, there as guest instructors and
performers, were supposed to be the grown-ups. They were supposed to be
responsible, help educate the young campers, set a good example. But Lily had
been flattered by his attentions all week, even though she was the star and
received attention as if it were her due back then. He hadn’t made his own mark
yet but he was so handsome, with an intangible something that caught the eye and
made people assume he was headed for great things. He could have had almost any
girl there. Lily could have resisted, but she simply didn’t want to. She was
still too young herself to care all that much about responsibility.
It wasn’t as though they were alone in their momentary
madness. After the watery roadhouse beer, the dizzy dancing to jukebox tunes,
the whole crew of visiting instructors and performers had gone collectively
crazy with the heat. Lily doubted there was a dark corner anywhere in the camp
that summer night that didn’t host its own frantically coupling pair.
He’d been tall, but in heels her legs were nearly as long as
his. She had wound one long limb around his waist and he’d held it there with
his long pianist’s fingers. Slid his hand farther up until he could cup her ass
on one side and feel their joining with his fingertips. Lily had gasped as he’d
spread her wider, thrust deeper…clamped his mouth over hers, silencing her,
because the risk of getting caught was already too high even without the noise.
It was an almost brutal kiss. She had given it right back,
digging her fingernails sharply into his back, hard enough that he clearly felt
it even through his t-shirt. Both of them remained more or less clothed,
although Lily would realize the next morning that she was missing her
underwear. She never did know when exactly she had lost track of them or where
they wound up.
He had started out forceful but slow, measured. After that
kiss, though, something had seemed to snap in both of them. His strokes grew
faster, less controlled, and Lily’s hips worked in a frantic tempo trying to
keep up. She’d been startled when she realized she was actually going to come,
that something in the angle or the mood was adding the missing ingredient she’d
sought in vain with her ex-boyfriend Matt. Matt had been the first, and he had
worked at it. So had she. Self-conscious stopping and starting, clumsy fingers
attempting to stimulate a clitoris that had already given up in boredom and
exasperation.
That time, with that second man, it had been no work at all.
It had been like breathing, like unforced laughter. Like dancing when you
already knew the steps in your muscles and didn’t have to think anymore.
She remembered how the sensation worked its way outward, spreading
from the spot where her pelvis was tipped to let him brush against her
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