Something woke me. I’d been sleeping hard, drooling on the edge of the couch cushion, my arm dangling off the edge, dreaming about Patrick Swayze making margaritas, and something pulled me suddenly from sleep. I had no idea what it was—I couldn’t hear anything but the rain, still falling, and the ticking of a clock somewhere—and then I didn’t care. I was suddenly desperate to pee. All those damned margaritas. I pulled myself to standing, using the back of the couch to steady myself in the unfamiliar darkness. My head was still spinning. I hardly ever drank anymore, even wine.

It was nearly dark, but there was a night light in the kitchen next to the sink and I followed its glow, shuffling along the carpet in my bare feet. The last thing I wanted to do was trip and wake the Baumgartners. It wasn’t until I’d made my way through the kitchen and saw the bedroom door, slightly ajar, that I remembered the way to the bathroom was through their room.

Then I heard an unmistakable moan and knew what had woken me. They were having sex. What I’d mistaken for a ticking clock was the rhythmic tap of a headboard hitting the wall.

“Oh god, that’s fucking fantastic!” Carrie gasped. “I’m going to come again!”

I heard him grunt, the springs squeaking louder, faster, the headboard slapping the wall with greater force. She gave three short, sharp cries, the same sound I’d heard her make that afternoon watching from the window, and I felt my whole body bloom with warmth. I leaned against the door frame for support, not sure I could trust my legs to keep me up.

“I love your shaved little pussy,” he growled. The squeaking had stopped. “Gimme!”

“No, no, no!” she cried. There was a flurry and shuffle and she objected the whole while but then I heard her moan softly. “Oh god, Doc, I can’t, not again…”

“Mmmm yes you can,” he assured her, his words muffled. I was sure his mouth was full. I felt so faint I thought I might actually pass out. “God, that’s so fucking hot. So smooth.”

“I know.” She sounded both smug and proud. “She shaved me so nice.”

“She sure did.” More muffled words from Doc.

“Oh baby, your tongue!”

I’d obviously guessed correctly.

“So tell me about your shower.” Doc’s voice was low. “Did you enjoy it?”

“You’re bad.” She teased him. “Does it turn you on, thinking about the two of us wet and naked?”

“You know it does.” His grin was so big I could hear it in his voice. “Tell me.”

“She’s so pretty, Doc,” she murmured dreamily. “Her breasts are big like mine, but she’s got these puffy nipples, so sexy.”

He groaned. “What color?”

“Brown, almost as dark as mine,” she murmured. I couldn’t believe the details she was relaying, how much she had noticed about me. That confirmed she’d been looking too, maybe as much as I had. I cupped my breast in my hand, closing my eyes, imagining the weight of hers, seeing the fat pursed jut of her nipples in my mind. I thumbed my own nipple through my shirt and shivered. “And her pussy, oh god, she’s shaved so smooth. I wanted to touch it…and kiss it.”

Me, too, I thought, and squeezed my legs together, feeling the heightened pulse between them. I’d been imagining little else for a week, and knowing now that she’d been thinking about it too made me so hungry for her, my mouth actually started to water.

“More,” Doc insisted, his breath coming fast. “Tell me more.”