Samantha had been out as a lesbian ever since ninth grade, when she had been caught making out in the girl's room with Suzie Nakahara, but she always detested the phrase "women who love women." When identified as such, she would grit her teeth and respond "I'm not a woman who loves women, I'm a woman who fucks women." And that she did. Although dozens of women had shared her bed, Samantha cherished her single lifestyle and loathed even the sight of an extra toothbrush in her bathroom.
So why did she want Dani to linger in the morning, rather than hustling her out as she did most of her other paramours? Why was she thinking of a spare closet, where this beautiful, gentle, and sexually ravenous new conquest could keep her no doubt deliciously frilly and feminine wardrobe? Why couldn't she get the picture of the two of them standing before a minister, Sam in a tux and Dani in a beautiful gown, out of her mind?
"God" Samantha thought, looking down at her sleeping lover who had a big smile on her face "she's even beautiful when she's asleep. What am I gonna do?"