"Who knows?"

"And you, Darleene. You never really said straight out that you'd lost it."

"Uh-"

"You talk about it all the time like you really have done it. But never anything real specific. Oh, not that you should get that personal, necessarily. But, you know."

"Can't talk about it now, Babette. Like, the door's ringing and I think it's Rudolph. He always show up like this. If he gets past my parents, I might have a quick date."

"Good lick."

"Thanks. Oh, and-uh, Babette. Give it a few yanks for me. Won't you?"

"What?"

"Your furbag. Your clit. Give your goodies a good hit for me."

"Jeez."

"Nighty-night."

"Outasight."

Babette tightened her mouth.

Who else should she call?

Or was it past that point already.

There was a spinning in her head. Grinning in the smile below her belt.

Babette reached down and felt.

Damp beaver pelt.

Itching like a bitch.

Her hips did twitch.

Stabbed her clit.

Flinched.

Dabbed her fingers in her cleft.

Pusslips sighed apart.

Pressed in with her fingers.

Sank in an inch.

"Unh."

She saw Channing's face before her. Staring into her eyes.

Trying her bod on for size. Rise in his thighs.

Somehow, Babette was more comfortable with him in her imagination. In her fantasy world, where she could do anything she pleased.

Babette flipped her fanny up.

She arched her back.

Pressed her pussy to the bedpost.

Rocked her haunch.

Felt the raunch run out of her quim.

Thinking of him.

In the state they were in.

"Do you really love me?" she said to him in her mind. "Like you said?"

"I meant every word."

"It's not just so-uh-you know. So you can get my pants down."

"Of course not, Babette."