Kady Did Anal

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In the morning, I wake up slowly, refreshed and pleasantly sore, to the smells of breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, and I feel like those cartoons, where the wafting smells allow the character to literally float toward the food. I enter the kitchen in nothing but one of Neil's old shirts, my prt little nose lifted toward the smells, audibly sniffing as I roll up the too-long sleeves. "Fuck, I'm starved." I notice the sundress I wore coming here is neatly washed and hung on the back of a chair, and I cock an eyebrow and look at Neil. "How long have you been awake?"

"A lot longer than you," he tells me cheerily. "Unfair that you look better in my clothes than I do. You didn't have any spare clothes, I noticed, so I cleaned your dress for you. Only took a couple hours, and I did have all that other laundry to do."

"Me and your sheets," I agree regretfully as I take a seat. Obnoxiously, I take up the silverware he'd placed there, fork in one hand and knife in the other, and begin banging my fists demandingly on the table. "Food, man!" I demand, making the word man sound like slave.

"Something about this seems very backwards," he notes as he slides a plate of food in front of me.

"Turnabout is fair play?" I counter, cocking an eyebrow at him, and he concedes with a bow of his head and a grin.

It's surprising. I had expected it to be awkward. I had expected all this to be awkward. Instead, Neil and I just kind of fell together in a relaxed kind of way, no expectations or illusions. I'm only eighteen, but even I know how rare that is. We had become, in the day and night we spent together, something way more important than lovers, at least as I count things.

We'd become friends.

I tell him this over breakfast, and he reaches out and squeezes my hand gently. "I'm not going to pretend, Kady," he says, looking at me with those intense blue eyes of his. "There's a part of me that would like to make it more. But I know better. You'll always have a place here, if you need it, and someone to talk to that isn't your parents, if you need that. Besides, I'm an expert on sex. That's like, the best friend an eighteen year old can have, male or female."

"A sexpert!" I agree, grinning impishly at him, and have the pleasure of seeing him wince.

He sees me out the door with a long, slow kiss, starting a slow burn in my belly that I know he won't satisfy. At least not today. "I won't tell you to be good, Kady," he says with a smirk. "But I do hope you'll be well."

"I thought your expertise was human sexuality," I complain, "not English." But I take the well-wishes, give him a few of my own, and then head back down the road toward home in the late morning light. I guess most other girls would dread telling their mothers about this sort of thing.

Me? I'm looking forward to it.