At some stage, most women have wondered what it would be like to be with another woman, although we tend to lust after distant celebrities or remote acquaintances. But the woman who told me this story found that the object of her fantasies was close to home-too close for comfort. You know what it's like having roommates. You start off with separate shelves in the fridge, labeling your milk, itemizing the phone bill, and forbidding each other from using your shampoo, but before long you're sharing everything. Clothes you swore you'd never lend anyone somehow find their way on to your roommate when she's got a date. You know how it is.

That's how it was with me and Laura. We'd been friends since our late teens, and when we landed our first jobs in the same big city, it was a foregone conclusion that we'd share an apartment. We were as close as sisters and had never had an argument, but perhaps more important than that, we just about wore the same dress and shoe sizes and definitely shared a sense of style, so that by moving in together we each effectively doubled our wardrobes, and what better criteria can there be for a roommate? Although we were the same size, we were different shapes. Laura's figure was a little fuller than mine. She was curvy where I was athletic and lean. I would never in a million years fill one of her bras. But that was fine; clothes that hung off me like I was a coat hanger came to life on Laura, her curves filling out the fabric around her tits and ass. When she wore one of my tank tops, she looked poured in, just about ready to burst right out of it. Whenever she borrowed my clothes, men looked at her as though they hoped the seams would split and the flesh be exposed at any moment. I know Laura got off on that. The difference in our figures worked for me, too. I liked the way her jeans hung off my hips and left a little slouch when I wore them. Like borrowing your boyfriend's.