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Samantha was pissed, and she was on a rampage.

I was tucked away, hidden in the kitchen as I stooped over our toaster that was well past the date where it belonged in the trash. Inside it desperately tried to incinerate the slice of bread I'd put in, but so far it had only managed to char the crusts and left the rest of it still fluffy and white. Why our parents couldn't afford to cough up and just admit that we needed a new one I'll never know, but I daren't turn my attention away; this lump of breakfast-ruining crap had a habit of nuking the crap out of that poor slice the instant you looked away from it. Besides, it gave me a reason not to indulge Sammy in another one of her wild embittered rants about how unfair things were, how much this was annoying, or some other whiny bullshit.

I heard her storm her way past the kitchen, and I swore a tornado might be following her given the destruction she left in her wake. Or perhaps a tornado was too tame? Maybe a whole monsoon, if she carried on any longer.

Our parents were outside enjoying the summer sun, lounging on the deck chairs. I caught sight of them as they leapt up to their footpaws with panicked, dazed expressions. They weren't exactly the placid types - if anything they would only inevitably add to Sammy's fury with their not-so-subtle cynicism and arrogant, irate views of the world - goodness knows where I got my lack of backbone from parents like that.

Instantly they were to Sammy's side as she spouted off with a look hanging between seething rage and depressive sadness. I couldn't hear them talk, or rather screech, but I could see her talking animatedly, throwing and flailing her arms about as though she was fending off invisible enemies. I sighed and remained fixed on my yet-to-be toast. Best not to get involved. I hated getting roped into her little tantrums. They always smashed my mood into a million pieces and then some.

She hurled her way back inside, and I felt the heavy stomp of her footsteps as she careened back through the house. They came closer and closer until... Fuck. She lunged her way into the kitchen, and went around the other side of the island that was at the centre of the room. She grabbed a can of beer from the fridge and unceremoniously snapped it open and chugged it. Her ugly gulps filled the room, followed by the most unladylike of belches. Oh dear... was this going to be 'drown my sorrows in cheap booze' tirades, or an 'I'll do whatever the fuck I like because I'm pissed' escapade?

"That faggot!"

Shit... there she goes with her homophobia again...

"Do you know what he did?!" She spat at me, the rabid look in her eyes unmistakable directed at me. I didn't know if I was supposed to answer. Who was 'he', and how should I know? I turned my back on the toaster, "He's off fucking some cocky little pillow biter! I'm the love of his life, and he's off being bum chums with that fag of a Border Collie!"

Ah! She was referring to the Smiths' son, Robin. He was a good guy. I personally liked him. He was always very friendly, and gave me a smile whenever I said hello. Cute too, if I recall, though I hadn't seen him since we both finished college. Last I heard he was planning on moving to some city somewhere to study further. I wonder if he'd finally fulfilled his dream... I, on the other hand, was still debating what to do with myself. I could probably go anywhere I wanted, since my parents didn't really care where I went so long as I came back with the grades they could boast about to all their friends, and especially to my uncle and aunt who lived in France. They seemed to always want to be one up on my French relatives, though I couldn't understand why.

Wait... Robin was gay? That's... actually unsurprising. He had been making those lovey eyes at his best friend Logan for a while now, and I was wondering if anything was going to end up happening between them. I knew Logan was adamantly straight, so...

Hold it again. Sammy dated Logan for a while. In fact, it had been the calmest and happiest I'd seen her since we'd moved to this village. Was Logan the 'he' she was referring to in her petty outburst?

"Logan's in a relationship with Robin?" I asked, now genuinely curious. I couldn't hide the excitement out of my voice. I'd been praying those two would get together. Robin was a special guy; he deserved a special mate to go with that. Sammy must've taken my glee the wrong way and interpreted it as sarcasm as she gave me a dry roll of the eyes followed by an indignant snort,

"I know, right? If you can even call it a relationship," Why did she have to be so mean to gay people? "I just found out now, went round professing my love for him and how I wanted him to give me a second chance and that I could change, but he just laughed at me, said he'd never get back together with a hag like me, and then sucked Robin's face off and leered at me. You could see it in his eyes, the vile insidiousness. He wanted me to see him getting off with a fucking guy, and Robin, of all people!" He gave a low whimper, as though she were truly devastated by this news, "I bet he purposefully picked Robin just to spite me... how cruel is that?!"

How cruel is spouting off homophobic insults and derogatory comments directly to your gay brother? Oh, I don't know. Maybe you deserved it, Sammy.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to, Sam," I said timidly, sniffing the air a little. Delightful; I now had a lovely piece of inedible black crap for my snack.

"No, I know he did," She said, suddenly changing her tune. Gone was the misery and sadness of losing the 'love of her life', replaced only with relentless anger, "I know he's defiling that little slut of a dog. He's doing it to get back at me!" I rolled my eyes with my back to her, extracting the charred and impossibly hot remains of my poor precious bread slice.

"Well... what do you want me to do?" I said, not thinking about what I was saying. I was tired, and I really didn't want to have to listen to anymore of this. Not only was she flaming a gay couple, but said gay couple was now off happily together whilst I was still alone and trapped in the closet.

"I want you to take my side and agree with me, Beau!" She snarled, crumpling the can with a single paw, her fist clenched tightly around it so much that I feared she'd cut herself. Lobbing it aside, the can clattered across the countertops as she lurch forward and leant in close to me, "Those fags out there, not just Logan and that whore Robin, they're going to destroy the meaning of love, and they're going to make the sanctity of marriage rot in some ditch in their corner of Hell. I hope all those poofs burn and die some horrible death." She glared at me, and I finally looked properly back. What I saw scared me...

It was like she knew. Like, deep down, behind all the façade of sibling-togetherness and the unity of the family values, she knew what I was. Suddenly, it felt like each time she'd ever made a slanderous remark about homosexuality, or each time she'd preached to people about how faggots would one day bring about the end of the world and that we'd end up marrying rocks or some shit like that, it felt like she was aiming it all... at me. It took me all my courage and strength to stand there and look back into those cold, soulless eyes. It was like staring into the eyes of a corpse, and for a brief instant she wasn't my older sister anymore. She was every bigot, every extremist, every religious nut who had cut down the gay community rolled up all into one. For a brief instant, she could've been someone who might someday attack me and leave me for dead in an alley, pretending to mug me, just because I liked men...

I couldn't stay any longer. Without a word more I left the kitchen, barging past my parents who had meandered their way inside after hearing some of the commotion. I didn't give them the gratification of a look back. I couldn't let them see me breaking down.

I stormed back out the door, much like Sammy had done coming in, and slammed it shut behind me with my jacket in my paw. I flew down the street and sprinted off deeper into the village and towards the promenade, not stopping until I felt sick and my lungs burnt with an intense pain. Hunched over and nearly vomiting my guts up all over my converses, I sucked in heavy breaths of sea air. Fuck... What was I going to do? How could I ever come out to people like that?

I rose up from being bent over, finally feeling sure that my stomach wasn't trying to climb up my throat, and gazed about. I was just a corner away from the beach, but it wasn't that great this time of year due to tourists and summer die-hards who usually occupied the place during the holidays. I didn't really go anyway. It wasn't my sort of scene. I'd always preferred to spend my time indoors. Not at home, mind, but just generally inside, away from exposed, open areas where I didn't feel safe. The last place we'd lived, my sister and I attended different schools, so I plucked up the courage to come out to my best friend of all time. Well... the next day I was getting all sorts of jeers, and I would get hassled and beaten up in the school's playing field or on the way home... Suffice to say, I never breathed a word of it to my parents, and my assailants were clever enough to know not to leave evidence of their attacks all over me. Mainly my torso, crotch and thighs, so nobody could see the horrific bruises I'd sometimes get. It went on right up until we moved for mum's work... She was an estate agent and had been promoted to a new branch in this village; properties here would go for up to half a million or more, simply because they were along the coast. In other words, my mum was living it big for once.

I knew this part of the village by heart. Although I didn't go out onto the beach, I did like the views. There were several cafes, restaurants, and kooky little cake shops that dotted the promenade, and I went instantly for my favourite place. It was a small coffee shop, tucked away on a corner. It overlooked the crashing waves, and was placed near a part of the beach people were advised to keep away from due to quick tides and the rocks that ran up the side to the road.

I was pretty much a regular at the shop, and so when I entered, hearing the familiar clang of the dainty bell, I was greeted like any other patron. Molly was serving today; she was the manager, and was a greying chocolate Labrador. She had a lovely voice, and always seemed to be in high spirits with a chipper tone.

"Well hey there, Beau!" She chimed, "I haven't seen you in a while; how'd your exams go?"

"I got the results I wanted, straight As," I grinned. Despite parental pressures and the educational stress, I was pleased with myself for having gotten such good marks. It gave me a certain luxury now of choice about what I wanted to do next. I had university offers, apprenticeships being offered to me, even offers of actual jobs, and all I had to do was say yes to just one of them. I just... lacked the will to pick one. Because once I did, I was closing the doors on so many others, and what if I picked the wrong one? What if I suddenly wanted to change my mind, either due to a change in circumstances or new information came to light?

"Damn, kid!" She beamed like a child at Christmas, "You got them brains in you!" I did love her quirky way of talking. She actually came from a pretty esteemed background, or so I heard. She just chose to talk like that since it was good for business that the owner sounded more like one of the locals.

"Thanks, Molly, I appreciate it."

"Here, how about I give you the usual, on the house - my treat for doing so well!" Sometimes her kindness towards those she cared about knew no bounds, though she usually justified such generosity. Last time I'd got a free drink was my birthday.

"You really don't need to," I stammered, unsure as to whether be humble and deny the freebie, or to look selfish and take it willingly, "I can pay for it."

"Poppycock, it's on the house. I insist." That was that then... She had already turned around and busied herself with the coffee machine. I sighed, already planning ahead now as to how much of a tip I should leave.

The place was unusually packed, and I found myself worrying if my favourite spot had been taken. Fortunately, it hadn't, though it was somewhat pushed back into the corner. Never mind; I never did like being near to the attention and clamour. It wasn't my style. I picked my way through the busy crowd of chatty people and plopped down in the chair. It felt better to be on turf I was familiar with. I hated being harassed at home by my narrow minded sister. My parents weren't any help either - they just sat back and let Sammy do what she wanted. It was like they weren't even there half the time. The sooner I could leave the better. I had no ties here. I doubt my family was going to be a big reason to stay behind. I just had to figure out what would be best and then hope I wasn't too late.

More often than not, I only came to this shop to browse through the guys that came here. I couldn't get a good look at the men at college since either they would have broken me into a bloody pulp or I just didn't get the chance. This coffee shop was quite popular with young people, and it brought in a great deal of customers who were up to date with trends and were part of my generation. I found that those slightly older than me were far hotter than those near to my age, and any older than five years above my age just freaked me out. I could never imagine myself with a guy that old. I was looking for my Prince Charming to be somewhere between twenty-one and twenty-three, maybe four at a stretch. I took note of today's stock; an elderly badger grumbling over a newspaper, a group of three lads; two canines and a bull who looked far too immature to even be classed as 'men', a ram who was up at the front ordering something and a quite colourful and vibrant looking smoky grey British Shorthair cat. Other than that, the place was void of any male custom. There were a few girls whom I recognised, but I only came here to unwind and gawp, not to gossip or chat.

Speaking of which... that ram did look rather handsome.

I decided to give him another look over. He was tall, well... very tall. I'm sure he had to bow his head just to get through the door, so height was a plus. He had this roundish face with a shadow across his jaw of stubble, which only made him sexier. He lacked the muscle depth you might usually see with those of his species, though I wasn't deterred. Holding himself with a powerful grace, he had that certain rustic farm boy charm to him. I hadn't really seen him around, so I could only conclude that he was older than me. He wasn't around at college, and he most certainly didn't look any younger than me, so I would take a stab at maybe twenty, twenty-one... definitely my type.

He'd almost finished getting his coffee and was about to sit down. Maybe I should motion him over, strike up a conversation... I wasn't usually good with meeting people, but I certainly try. It was worth a shot. He was handed his drink and was just about to turn around when that cat up at the front threw himself at him.

Well, when I say threw, I mean more he just started chatting to him, and managed to wheel him off to some other table. Damn it... A pang of sadness filled me. Seemed like the ram was a cat person too, judging by how animatedly he was talking. Maybe he just wasn't the one for me... Why did I even care? It's not like I was out anyway... I just...

No, I mustn't cry.

I sucked in a shaky breath and tried to compose myself. Just unlucky, I guess. There will be others, I'm sure. Plenty of others in this backwater town where the dregs of upper class society mingled; it was the sort of place that lets water settle, with all that dirt and gunk at the bottom. Well yeah, I was buried right at the very bottom, beneath it all. I guess I'd let myself get there, but then again I couldn't have done much else. I admit it; I'm pretty much a mess of social insecurities and cowardice when it comes to talking to strangers. Personally, in the state that I am, I wasn't about to become the social busy bee that was required of a gay male in these parts. Not like that cat, who could flaunt himself at a guy without a hesitation. They were leaving now, with the cat rushing out after that hunky ram. Bah... waste of my time coming here, sometimes.

"Is this seat taken?"

Looking up, somewhat startled, though more surprised, I met the face of what I can only describe as something carved by angels. I'm kidding of course, but damn he sure was handsome... I was locking eyes with this beauty of an Alsatian. He had these chocolate eyes, and a lovely tan muzzle surrounded with darker black fur. His ears were pricked up in attention, and his posture was tall and proud, like any virile male of his calibre should be. My eyes trailed a little lower than they should have, maybe because I just had to gawp at his impressive chest and abs... I mean fucking hell, you could actually see each individual bulge and groove... It was all on show too, since he wore a fully open red chequered shirt and loosely hanging baggy jean shorts. It was clear he'd come for the beach weather, and probably to catch some rays too judging by his body. There was a patch of lightly dusted brown fur, rougher than the rest, that clumped at his chest in a diamond like shape before it trailed down the centre of his stomach and began to amass just above his crotch until it disappeared past his waistband. That's when his groin just takes over... Behind all that denim is the very prominent and mouth-watering mound that inevitable must be his cock and balls, and just looking at them made me shiver in raw pleasure at the thought of servicing them. A polite cough dragged my back up though,

"Well... is it?" I caught his gaze again, and now an evil smile tugged on his muzzle as if he knew my every sordid thought. His strong, giant paws had a grasp on either side of the back of the chair, like he was about to pick it up and make off with it, probably to go join his friends, or family, or something. I managed to muster up enough confidence to finally squeak back something that resembled a yes. To my surprise, he pulled the chair out and sat down opposite me. His evil smile had now mutated into something more of a cheesy grin, one that stretched from cheek to cheek and showed the rows of white teeth. Nothing was said for a few moments before I noted something out of the ordinary, and in the most casual way possible piped up,

"Where... where's your drink?"

"Not got one," He smiled, "When I walked in here, I forgot all about ordering one when I laid eyes on you."

Shit... is he for real? Did he really just say that? I found myself blushing, and promptly scalded myself for being so careless. Keep it together; he's going to be one of those jerks who want to make your life hell by pretending to be into you thinking it's a hilarious joke.

"Um... thank you?"

"No problem, cutie." He gave me a wink, and my blush probably went several shades darker. Oh shit, what do I do? Now he gave this deep, gruff chuckle, and shook his head, "Sorry if I'm coming on too strongly, I just figured you'd have been one of those 'out there' types. I'm Kyle." He held his paw out in preparation to shake mine. He had this accent too, it sounded American, from down south I think, which made me even more curious; I took his paw in my own and gave it a shake, nodding my head and announcing in reply,

"I'm Beau."

He leant back in his chair and gave this huff of disbelief, his mouth hung open as though amazed,

"Damn... the perfect name for the cutest guy I've ever met." His expression changed to one of concern, "I am right in guessing you like guys, right? Otherwise I've just made a horrible mistake and need to get my gaydar retuned." I did giggle at his comment, and flushed for probably the umpteenth time already.

"Oh no," I said in mock disgust, "I can't stand queers. You can't beat pussy!" It was terrible, I know, but I have little experience with flirting and I was trying my best. He was incredible, and actually talking to me! He laughed too at what I said, but he had this glint in his eye that made me shudder,

"Well, I might not go for tits, but I do like some pussies..." He gave yet another wink, and leant his elbows on the table and cross his arms. He had me on the ropes; I was a quivering puddle of hormones, arousal, and desire... If he toyed with me any more I'd end up either bolting or melting there and then into a literal gooey mess.

"So... Beau," He rolled my name around on his tongue, as though he were drinking a fine wine, "You live in these parts?" I nodded, "So you're a local then, neat; I love the British. Your accents make me go crazy." I blushed again. What was I supposed to do? I barely knew the guy, and seldom did any local really socialise with tourists; sure we'd probably exchange the odd conversation, but never did we dig any deeper than what was on the skin. Otherwise we were just being creepy. "You don't talk much, do you?" He gave me a wry smile that made my heart flutter. What was it about guys I liked and mind reading?

"Sorry..." I stuttered, paws shakily reaching for my cup and lifting it to my lips to find something to preoccupy myself with, "I'm just not used to... this." I lightly shrugged my shoulders, hoping not to have to elaborate. Of course though, nothing goes my way.

"What do you mean? What's 'this'?" His paws seemed to wave about as though to give some solidarity to the word 'this', and for a moment I reeled. Which should I say: talking to tourists, or flirting? Well, at least I assumed it was flirting. He'd already established he liked me, but we'd been here for what, two minutes? That's an impossibly short amount of time to figure out whether you like someone or not, despite that niggling phrase 'love at first sight'.

"You know... this. Talking to a guy, flirting... the whole dating package," my ears splayed to either side. I wasn't very good at whatever the hell this was. He chuckled, reaching across the table and stroking his index finger along the side of my hand. Part of me inside flinched, the physical touch very sudden, very nerve-wracking, yet very welcome. The outer part remained stoic, gazing across the table as that finger was soon joined by more, softly caressing my paw. His paw pads felt thick, sturdy even to an extent, and his overall paw was much larger than my own, so how he was managing to hold mine so delicately was a mystery. Gingerly he hooked his fingers between mine, interlocking them as his thumb now stroked over the back of my hand,

"Do you want the whole dating package?" He asked so carefully and smoothly, as though the words had been soaked in a liquid elixir of gold, then entwined with the most expensive of silks, only to be then spoken through his velvet, warm lips... I still didn't react; I refused to. Whilst this to him was a place where he could be himself, I was still subjected to the ridicule of those around me. This was where I lived, and a reputation could be earned quickly where the walls not only have ears but nosy neighbours behind them. I needed to make a decision though. If I left the question too long he might think I'm not interested, but I can't just jump to a single answer.

"Yes."

The word had escaped my mouth before I had chance to stop it. Apparently my heart - or my dick - had other ideas than I, so it transpired that I could jump to a single answer. Whether this was a good idea or a horribly bad one was still yet to be seen. Though I wasn't as worried as I might have been a few months ago; I had Robin's example to follow from. If he'd managed to grab himself a man, a local no less, then I could too. Even if he was foreign and probably not staying for long, it would be something in the steps towards finally being just me.

"Do you know where Cresthill Road is?" I knew the place. Everybody did. "I'm staying at number sixteen. It's the one with the hideous pink flamingo in the front yard. I'm guessing you won't let me pick you up if you're this worried about hand-holding in public..." He gave a subtle head tilt towards our paws, and a serious stare to meet my blank neutral face. "Just be sure to arrive by eight, and come dressed to impress. I want to charm the pants off of you," Again, that playful smile teased the blushes out of me, and he blew me a small kiss before adding, "I'll give you a real one of those tonight."

With that, he left. Just as quickly as it had all occurred, he was gone. Deep down, a wretched little slice of my conscience believed he was just trying to hook up with some tail before he went back to the states, but even if he was better than nothing, without trying to sound too shallow. He was hot, seductive, funny, and had looks to boot. A one night stand might not be so bad, if you weigh up my options. I could either turn him down, spend the next decade being a coward and not making a move on any guy or I could take a chance on him and maybe earn a little experience and confidence. Even if I failed to better myself, I'd still have a night to remember. It was a win-win situation.

I glanced at my watch. He'd given me about three hours to prepare for whatever he had in mind, something which I still shivered at the thought of, so I worked it out. It'd take about half an hour to deal with whatever tirade Sammy would launch on next either at me or near me, and I'd have to deal with that there and then, whenever it happened, so I'd have to account some time to that. I'd need roughly an hour and a half to get ready, and then it was maybe a ten minute walk to Cresthill... Which left me with a couple of minutes to kill, and a cold cup of half-drunk coffee; I may as well waste them here. It's not like I wanted to face Sammy's rage any earlier than I had to.

But Cresthill... Fuck, what had I gotten myself in to? Who was this 'Kyle' and why the fuck was he staying in a house at Cresthill?! Those places sold for over half a million; it was the upper-upper class area of the village. It's where the snobby rich people are looking so much down their noses you just assume they've evolved eyes in their nostrils. It's where the grass is so green and lush it's probably comfier than my own bed, and costs twice as much too. It's where the gnomes are so decadent even they have little homes and sports cars in the drives... You get the idea, but fuck... Just who was he, and what the hell did he do for a living? He had looked about twenty - pretty young come to think of it - and I don't think anybody could be earning hundreds of thousands when they're only just starting off their careers...

I sighed; may as well head back and prepare myself as best I can for tonight. I'd need a shower, and I'd probably need to clean myself out, as unpleasant as it seemed. He'd want to go there, right? I don't think he'd appreciate ending up fucking me only to... well yeah, I'd better just clean myself out as best I can. I'd bought some stuff online to do it, so it wasn't that much of a big deal, just a hassle. It wasn't as easy as an insertion as I liked, but the feeling of being filled by warm water was sensational, and had me curling my toes by the point where I could take no more. One after the other, I repeated this process until the water flowed out as cleanly as it had gone in, and whilst my guts were becoming accustomed to the unusually cleansed state they were in, I took it upon myself to have some fun. My hole was now pretty relaxed, and loose enough for my liking.

I took some soap, the all-natural kind that isn't loaded with more chemicals than bleach might be, and I lathered myself up, paying special attention to my cleft. Gently I took a single finger and slid it inside, curling my claws away so that I wouldn't hurt myself. My body responded with a shiver of raw delight, thoughts of Kyle taking over. Inside my head, a fantasy began to play out, and I slowly I became adrift. He stepped into the shower, naked and in his full glory. I added more fingers, pretending my own paw was his, and that lovingly he started to stroke me, squeezing with a primal lust from tip to base, teasing my barbs. I added more fingers as Kyle became quicker with the strokes, moving at a brisk pace that kept me writhing and moaning. He had his fingers in my hole, stretching them and swirling them around as he moulded me to his liking. I panted, nearing to the brink before he stopped and spun me around abruptly. His maleness was on show, a large meaty prick with a knot to match, his balls looking heavy and swinging freely below. He replaced my fingers with the head of his cock, and slowly began to introduce his manhood to my ass. Two fingers were slotted into my open mouth to prevent me from screaming as he pushed inwardly suddenly, thick inches burying themselves too deeply and too quickly. I suckled on them like an obedient boy, knowing it would ease my mind from the flared pain that ebbed quietly in my gut. He let me become used to the size now occupying my hole, giving warm flexes of his buried cock to remind me I was his. He didn't say a word, merely held me there with one paw in my mouth, cupping my chin whilst the other encircled my waist and kept me close.

Once he deemed that I'd had enough time to relax, he began his thrusts. They were slow at first, and pulled from tip to the top of his knot. The heat from his raw flesh resonated throughout me, and I could feel my need building. My own cock swung low, unattended yet very much aroused. Part of me stopped myself from touching it, and I believe Kyle knew not to either. We were both aware that his fucking alone would be good enough to make me cream my load without so much as even a graze against my exposed dick. In and out he pulled, making sure I felt him, each inch of his slick gliding cock as he slammed down hard. His fingers toyed with my tongue for a while as his thumb stroked my cheek before the paw was removed entirely, and my hips were clasped in his grip. Now began the true rutting, and Kyle became feral, fucking me like he would any other bitch and letting me mewl out regardless of who heard. His growing knot begged entrance, and I was forced to concede as his rampant love refused to take no for an answer. With several sharp pounds my rim gave way, and my hole locked with his manhood. My gut was then ballooned with his swollen knot, and then filled with watery dog jizz, the spurts painting my insides with insistent bursts before Kyle's orgasm faded. I came then too, the sheer force of his knot crushing against my prostate and the heat in my abdomen blew me away, and I shot my seed across the bathroom walls, mixing with the hot water that cascaded around me and pooling about my footpaws with the soap suds.

When I opened my eyes, Kyle was gone, and carefully I pulled my fingers back out from my hole. I'd got a little carried away there... I really should stop fantasising so darkly about potential guys. Now I'd set myself an expectation for my dinner with Kyle tonight, and I barely knew the guy. True, he was handsome, well-mannered, charming and highly mysterious, but that meant by no means we were going to go all the way, nor was he going to be that good. Even so, what chance would I get beside him? It's not like I could openly date a guy here at home, nor would I have the opportunity to sleep with a male. This might be my first and only shot for a while at something remotely normal for me. I had barely an hour or so to come to terms with this, or to chicken out and call the whole thing off.

I turned off the shower and gently banged my head against the wall. What had I gotten myself into?