KARIN KALLMAKER.

Author's Note: This story depicts the absolute truth, except when it does not.

kay, I'm the woman who ended up with that writer's shorts-you know, the pair that went missing from poolside.

O I was naked, they were apparently abandoned, so I put them on. Given that we'd been trading glances all day it was quite a turn-on to be in her shorts.

There was also a pair of shoes, cute ones, too, and I was about to slip them on-thinking I'd turn both shorts and shoes into lost and found in the morning-when I saw the writer was coming back. There was good news and bad news about that. Good news was she had a security guard with her. Finding myself without my swimsuit and locked on the roof during a thunderstorm hadn't been fun.

I grabbed a soaking-wet towel to wrap around my upper body. The bad news was that the writer wasn't alone and the security guard was lingering. d.a.m.n, the owner of those cute clogs was back, too. I just couldn't be seen like this, in a borrowed pair of shorts and a towel that was only making it more apparent I had nothing else on.

Back behind the big potted plants I went.

I heard the writer, in that silken butch voice of hers, ask, "Where are my shorts?"

The other woman, some femme, laughed. "Who's in your shorts now, Reese?"

Oh, she liked to be called Reese? I'd only heard Therese all weekend.

"I love those shorts. They had great pockets and I didn't bring another pair."

I fingered the hem guiltily. They were nice shorts. I hoped she didn't look behind the plants and discover me. It looked bad, but really, the only mistake I had made was thinking my ex was capable of some fun for "old times' sake." A lot hadn't worked between us, but the s.e.x always had. So when she proposed a quick, hot tryst behind the plants, only a few feet away from the hot tub party, I'd agreed.

And then, once she'd coaxed me out of my swimsuit, she'd walked off with it. Now you see why she's my ex. Truthfully, the only reason I was so willing was this writer, Reese. The baby bird hair, dark eyes, and little looks she'd given me that said she appreciated the style of a high femme put me in very warm mood. Her gaze seemed to appreciate the light pink polish on my fingernails and the glitter of my earrings, and a girl likes that. It had been a while since anyone noticed the little things.

I realized with a start that Reese and the other woman were leaving. I couldn't remember the other woman's name-another writer but I don't think I'd read anything by her. Reese's books I'd studied, certain parts more than others. She writes great s.e.x and, well, a girl's got to wonder if it's all fiction, hasn't she?

The other woman, ringing for the elevator, was laughing and it seemed to me that everyone around Reese laughed a lot. I love a sense of humor. I mean, I love the kind of sense of humor that creates laughter, not the kind that thinks swiping someone's swimsuit and leaving her abandoned in a thunderstorm was funny. My ex was so dead when I found her.

The elevator came and went, taking the other woman away, and I watched Reese head for the fitness room, probably stilt in search of her shorts. To my profound relief the security guard had not relocked the doors. The hotel air-conditioning had me shivering instantly-wet clothes and fifty degrees will do that.

No doubt I should have called my roomie on the house phone to wake her up so I could get into the room. But I felt bad that I had Reese's shorts and she was obviously going to search high and low for them. The least I could do was tell her she'd get them back. So I followed her into the fitness room, which was even colder, and realized she'd really been aiming for the bathroom, which made a lot of sense.

She had a really annoyed look on her face as she was closing a stall door, and it only took her two seconds to look me over. Her expression was funny, then, because the wet towel made her do a double-take as she checked me out, but she was still a little annoyed.

"You have my shorts on."

"Yeah, see, I, uh..." I couldn't help but glance at myself in the big mirror to see what she saw. The pool towel was translucent and her shorts were tight on me. "Someone swiped my swimsuit."

"Oh?" She stayed where she was and a little smile was dancing in her eyes. "Skinny dipping?"

"No, I was, uh, doing something I shouldn't have been." She was definitely checking me out and I was shivering not so much from the cold as from the way her eyebrow arched. "An ex played a practical joke."

"An ex? Say no more." She was openly grinning at me now. "So, how am I going to get my shorts back?"

"You could take them off me." G.o.d, where had that come from? I wasn't usually quite so...blatant."

She crossed the room slowly toward me, her gaze never leaving mine. I backed up against the sink, not breathing. The shivers became more p.r.o.nounced as she planted both of her hands on the counter to either side of me. "Hasn't anyone ever told you there are certain dares you never try on a butch?"

I shook my head. My mind took off at warp speed, imagining her reclaiming her shorts and discovering that-and it was all her fault with that look in her eyes-now they really needed to be washed. I closed my eyes and gave myself to her voice.

"You're shivering," she said. "It's very cold in here."

"Wet." I indicated the towel.

"Is that all that's wet?" She leaned into me, then jerked back as the dripping, chilled towel touched her sport bra and skin. "I could warm you up but the towel has got to go."

She arched an eyebrow again, didn't move an inch and just waited.

It was up to me.

After a hard swallow I slowly unwrapped the towel.

Just as slowly she wrapped her very warm, very strong arms around me and pulled me close.

She felt like a fantasy, like her heartbeat was in her hands, pulsing on my naked back. I closed my eyes and gave myself completely to it.

"I've been watching you all day."

"And thinking what?" Her fingertips lightly traced the nape of my, neck, then drifted down my spine.

"Thinking things that made me say yes to my ex tonight."

She sighed like she understood. "If you weren't playing with her heart I don't think there's anything wrong with a...stand-in."

"Well, she was playing with me, that's for sure. I got locked on the roof, stark naked."

"Oh, poor baby. And no one to rescue you. Okay, I forgive you for taking my shorts."

With a shudder I whispered in her ear, ''Do you want them back now?"

She growled. "We're getting to the point of no return here. If you mean it, tell me so because you're making me crazy."

I managed to lift my head from her shoulder. "Was I wrong thinking you were watching me today?"

"No. I like red hair and I like a femme who is comfortable with her s.e.xiness, and you obviously are. It's a pleasure to watch you move."

"Oh."I took a deep breath. "Do you make love the way you sweet-talk?"

Her fingers went to the zipper on the shorts. ''Wanna find out?"

"Yes."

She hesitated, then ducked her head to look in my eyes. "I'm going home tomorrow."

"So am I." I answered, understanding what she meant. Tonight only, and that was fine with me. This kind of fantasy only worked for a night and it had been a really long time since I'd been this bad.

She kissed my bare shoulders as she loosened the b.u.t.ton and carefully unzipped me. With a mutual wiggle the shorts slipped down a little as she swept her hands firmly around my waist, then down to cup my a.s.s. "Oh, very nice," she murmured.

I wasn't shivering anymore. It was something else flooding over my body, ripples of tension and awareness. Her bare midriff was warm and her lips soft against my collarbone. I arched back as she leaned down to flick her tongue over one nipple. I saw her smile at my little gasp, then her teeth closed over it and she bit down just enough to make me shudder.

Part of me couldn't believe this was really happening. "How do you know I like that?"

"I don't-I'm just listening to my dance partner." She gave me a long, intent look, wrapped me very tight in her arms, and the next thing I knew my bare a.s.s was on the counter.

She stripped off the shorts and moved between my knees. I had to brace myself with my hands behind me to keep from swooning onto my back.

"Perfect," she said, then she bit my nipple again, a little harder.

"Stay just like that, baby."

I should have worried someone would walk in on us, but the idea of it excited me too much to care. It was unlikely at two o'clock in the morning, but if someone did we'd cover up and find someplace else. Or let them watch. G.o.d, I was in a mood tonight. Her teeth felt fantastic and she seemed to understand what my body was saying. Her hands were feeling my thighs and hips and a.s.s like she could read my desire through her fingertips.

I lifted myself on my hands enough to press my crotch to her swim trunks. Something hit my c.l.i.t just right and I pressed against it with a stunned gasp. I was already so close.

"Uh-uh," she whispered. "Don't you dare."

''Touch me, then. Please."

"I thought you'd never ask." She ran her lips and teeth over my shoulder, making my skin burn.

I groaned, loud and long, as her hand cupped me between my legs.

She was taking possession of me, and I could feel it in the tingling soles of my dangling feet and my burning, sweating scalp. Had I been cold? I was on fire now.

She made that growling noise again. "You're ready, aren't you?"

"Yes." I put my weight on my hands and pushed myself against her.

She turned her hand over, rubbing my swollen lips with her knuckles, b.u.mping along my c.l.i.t as she opened me. "Oh, G.o.d, you're wet."

"What did you expect?"

She bit my lower lip in response, "That it would be really fun to f.u.c.k you off those stiletto sandals you were wearing this morning. I like you naked."

She slid into me then, not slow, not fast, but firmly. My choked cry drew a moan from her as she spread her fingers inside me. She ma.s.saged me on the inside, immediately finding the right nerves and muscles. It was so quick, so hot. Gasping, I couldn't hold back a hard, wrenching climax.

It was over so fast I wanted to cry. Once was always enough to put me to sleep.

"Uh-uh." She squeezed my nipple between her finger and thumb.

"You're not done. We're just getting started."

"Oh, f.u.c.k," I breathed out.

Her fingers danced on my c.l.i.t, then dipped inside me, withdrew and played again. "This is really fun. Your body can really move."

My thighs trembled as I held them as far apart as I possibly could.

I drove myself down on her hand, dying to put out the burning fire she was stoking higher and higher.

She pulled me to the very edge of the counter, one muscled arm holding me firmly down while she leaned hard into me. I realized she had four fingers inside me and it was her thumb rubbing my throbbing c.l.i.t. She pushed in with the force of her whole arm, knocking the breath out of me, and I responded with a hoa.r.s.e cry, feeling as if I was clinging to my sanity by a rapidly thinning thread.

She could have anything she wanted. She could take everything I offered. I tried to grind myself on her hand but she was holding me down too firmly. She did all the moving and I surrendered to sensation like I never had before in my life. She f.u.c.ked me the way I'd always wanted someone to f.u.c.k me, so good and so deep it was a fantasy come to life.

My eyes tightly closed, shivers ran up and down my body as another climax rolled over me.

"Wet," she said, "is going to give you a cold in this air- conditioning."

My eyes snapped open. Her hands were still planted to either side of me. She was starting to look at me as if I was odd, and that wasn't at all what I wanted. I had to say something, but I could still hear the fantasy echo of my eager, hoa.r.s.e cries. "About that dare..."

Her smile was slow and s.e.xy. "You should be careful who you say things like that to. Another butch might have stripped you."

My inner femme wailed, "Aren't you going to?" but I wisely kept my lips clamped desperately together. Thank goodness she couldn't read my mind.

She finally leaned away from me and my entire body wanted to go limp. "You can leave my shorts at the front desk or something. I understand why you need them."

Gazing at her, at a loss for words, I knew exactly how her arms would feel if she embraced me, and exactly how her hand would feel learning all my secrets. She was a fantasy and yet she was reality, too. I was sure there were surprises about her that would be delightful to discover. "Maybe I could mail them to you after I wash them. They're a little...wet." Like me, I wanted to add.

She shrugged and then tried to cover a yawn. "I'm so sorry. It's late and that's not usually what I do in the presence of a half-naked beautiful femme."

G.o.d, she was sweet and s.e.xy. I bet she was cuddly when she woke up in the morning. It didn't look like I was going to find out. Not now, not here, at least.

A true gentleman, she walked me to my room to make sure I arrived safely in my half-clad state.

I said shyly, "If anyone saw us now they'd never believe we behaved."

Her grin was genuine. "It's because I'm so tired. It's one of those times when what didn't happen is far more interesting than what did."

She gave me a peck on the cheek that I'm still dreaming about.

Here's the big confession. I never did send her shorts to her. I figured I'd give them back at the next convention. Maybe invite her to take them off me again, if I really could get up the nerve.

Meantime, they're great shorts with all those pockets. And I even got a free Chapstick out of the deal.

EVERY LIFE FOR A THOUSAND YEARS.

JC CHEN.

was swimming in a lake in the first memory I have of my Beloved. She pretended to enjoy the water as she waded out I knee deep to greet me. I've learned since then that she loves everything about water except swimming in it. It is one of my favorite memories of her: one hand holding the hem of her dress high above the waterline, exposing the leanness of her thighs, the other hand shading her eyes from the sun while watching me intently and possessively. I asked her what her name was but she only laughed. Her laughter was clear and joyful; the sound of it drew me to her.

We spent that first day talking on the bank of the lake. She was wise and witty and her stories were exotic and grand. I felt nave and awestruck around her but she never seemed to tire of my company. At dusk, we agreed to meet again the next day at the sh.o.r.e of the lake. We met every day for a month. She would bring journals with her. Some of them contained pictures and stories of places she had been. I would lie with my head in her lap as she read to me from her memories. She also brought journals of places she wanted to go. I would sit side by side with her, equally engrossed by the silkiness of her skin and brilliance of her smile as the maps and paintings of these faraway lands. I had never much imagined the world beyond my lake before she brought it to me in her books.

I was the one to suggest that we go. On the last day of the first month we were together, I turned to her white she was reading aloud about a land with a thousand waterfalls. Although I wasn't looking at the pictures, I could see the landscape in my mind: cascades of silver, rolling green hills, the serenity of a perfect azure sky. I wanted to see it with my eyes and I told her so. She looked at me then with eyes full of hope. I felt a new kind of warmth burn through me like fire in my veins.

I would go with her to this land of a thousand waterfalls. I knew I would go with her to the ends of the earth.