You wake up to an empty bed and, for a moment, you think she's gone. Left you like she left Luke. Panic washes over you -- after all, panic is your thing -- eyes darting around the room, hand searching the sheets in a frenzy, like it's possible Rachel's shrunk pea-size overnight.

"Be sensible," you chastise yourself. Somehow, the next thing you do is run for the front door without putting on any clothes. This you notice before you turn the knob -- thank God -- but Rachel seems to find it funny.

She is still here.

Your face turns crimson despite the relief. "Oh, like you've never run for the door naked?"

"No, I haven't."

"Oh. Well. Never mind, then. I will return to my previous schedule of shame." You hold your knees together and cover your breasts despite the fact that she's seen every part of your body. "I think it might just be a twenty-four hour telethon."

Rachel's laugh peters out in a light giggle. "Can't say I'd turn that off." She crooks an eyebrow. "What are you doing, anyway?"

You know you can't say: I was scared that you'd left me. The equivalent of: I don't trust you. "I was having this dream -- real vivid -- that I had to run a marathon naked. You were there. And you, and even you, Auntie Em." You pause, the joke having less impact with your statue-like position. "I'm going to go get a t-shirt and jeans."

You turn but, in a moment, she's saying, "Wait." In another, she's sliding a hand over your abdomen. The heat of her hand reminds you how cold your body is and, God, how you want to be warm.

"I may remind you that I have a daughter who doesn't like to knock."

"I may remind you that she's miles away. And, anyway, you're the one who's running around naked."

"I can't control my dreams."

Rachel pushes your hair away from your neck as she places a kiss on a patch of skin. "C'mon, you can be a true bohemian for a little while."

"Bohemian isn't the same as nudist."

"Close enough."

She turns you around to give you a kiss on the mouth. As gentle and amazing as the first time, when you didn't even realize that you were starting a journey with her, when all you could think was how much better it than those previous kisses -- little pecks of secret rebellion with girls in plaid skirts who held barely inhaled cigarettes in-between their fingers.

Then -- and now -- it's for real.

The kiss deepens as she pulls you closer, warmth evident in her embrace. It amazes you that, briefly, you were scared that she chose you only because Luke's bed was now occupied by Nicole. But, even if she were just looking for a place to crash, Rachel could never have the cruelty to fake the verve with which she kisses you.

"Stop hugging your breasts," she whispers in your ear.

You raise an eyebrow at the proclamation of your semi-priggishness. "But what if they feel unloved?"

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

You smile, letting your arms fall to your sides. She fulfills her prophecy, moving her hands to gently cup your breasts as she kisses you. She uses thumbs and fingers to bring your nipples to hardness, causing you to moan into her mouth. When she lowers her lips to meet her fingers, you get to fully vocalize the feelings of elation. You want to lean back, but no wall is there to support you. You have to rely on her to keep you steady.

"Rach--" you begin, but she shushes you, maybe believing that you're going to tell her to stop. That wasn't it, but you remain wordless anyway, the only sounds you emit tiny gasps and moans.

Soon, her cheek is by your thigh. Throwing your leg over her shoulder, she grips onto your backside and enters you with her tongue. You cry out at the quickness of the actions as well as the sensation. You slide your hand through her hair as she continues to move her tongue inside you, creating patterns that tattoo your entire body.

"Oh God," you gasp as she exposes your most sensitive place and attacks it, drawing the tiny nub into her mouth as she hums. She brings you to the brink of orgasm, then pulls back, pushing her tongue deep inside. Release grows unimportant to you as you give yourself over to the sensation of her rapid movements but, soon, she's back to that place, the place that brings you over the edge, muttering her name.

She stands up, saying something about cleaning herself up, but you kiss her. Tell her, "Don't go," because you never want her to. Then, what you wanted to tell her before: "I love you."

A whisper in your ear: "I love you too, Lor."

END