The door swings open and Daphne’s hair is piled messily on the top of her head in a last-minute bun, her eyes are wide and a little smudged with dark makeup, and she is wearing cute pink pajamas and slippers and nothing else.

“I, um…” I reach up to rub my beard and check my watch. “We said dinner, right? Did I get confused? I was pretty distracted at the time.”

She cracks a smile, which cuts through the bewildered look on her face and makes her look more like the Daphne I know -- in control and enjoying life.

“We did, you’re right on time,” she says, reaching up to tuck a strand of beautiful red hair behind her ear, which is flushed a bright pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry… I just, I completely spaced on our date.” She blushes even redder and flicks her eyes to the ceiling. “I mean…”

“No,” I interrupt quickly before she can dig herself a deeper hole of embarrassment. “It’s fine.” I peer past her into her home, seeing that it actually has a completely different layout from my mom’s -- it’s newer, fresher, more fashionable looking -- and also seeing the laptop and mugs.

“I was working and lost track of time,” she explains, seeing my wandering eyes. “Should we do this another day? I’m really sorry.”

I think about it, or I pretend to.

Truth is I’ve been antsy as fuck all day thinking about tonight. I even caught myself literally pacing up and down at one point, just watching the clock. Time was going so goddamn slowly. I don’t want to wait another day.

So, I just stride into her house and look around. Nothing is cooking; that’s expected, though. She looks like she hasn’t even thought about food all day.

“Right,” I say, and point at her. “You get in the shower. I’ll get started on, uh…” I open and shut a couple of her cabinets while she stands sheepishly, rubbing her arm and watching me.

I open her fridge, glancing first at the pictures from vacations and the cute magnets she has stuck to it, and then close it and turn to face her. She bites her lip, knowing what I’m about to say. “Daphne, darling, you don’t have any food in this house.”

“Not true,” she says. “You saw there was some cheese. And there are crackers in the cupboard.”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah, I planned on going shopping today, but time just got away from me.”

She gives a small shrug and I can’t help but notice, again, how fucking adorable she is. My cock stiffens but I fold my arms across my chest anyway.

“Get in the shower. I’ll call for takeout.”

“You sure you don’t want to--”

“No, we’re doing this,” I say, and almost to my surprise, Daphne turns around and makes her way to the shower. I pull out my phone, at the same time listening to hear the water turn on in the bathroom.

When I’m done ordering -- I have no idea what she wants so I just get a bunch of different food to share -- I hear the sound of the water lessen as she steps underneath it, blocking its journey to the ground.

I can’t help but imagine her perfect body, the water sliding down her curves and contours, her fingers in her long hair, her back arched. Suddenly I’m hard as a goddamn rock, and I need her more than I thought possible; more than I did yesterday, even.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand is trying the bathroom door and finding it not only unlocked but ajar. It swings open easily and I look through the swirling steam to lock eyes with Daphne, water cascading down her generous breasts, eyes dark with the same desire I have.

Her hand slides down her stomach and then between her legs, and while she continues to look me in the eye, she slowly moves her fingers up and down, trailing over her shaved pussy and driving me instantly crazy.

“You are so fucking sexy,” I tell her, pulling the door shut behind me to keep the steam in.

“You think so?” she asks, moving her fingers faster.

“I think you’re one of the hottest women I’ve ever met.” I don’t want to say the hottest. I know she just wants a fling. But honestly, I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever been more attracted to than her. Especially right here, right now.

“Why don’t you prove it?”

It takes me a second to internalize what she’s saying. My attention is so drawn to her rhythmically stroking fingertips. I’m hard as I’ve ever been, and I need her right this second. Without answering, I pull my flannel over my head and throw it to the floor without another thought. Then I unbuckle my belt and kick off my pants, gripping the base of my thick cock with my hand and then sliding my fist slowly upwards to the head.

“Mm,” she groans, grazing her teeth over her lower lip as her hands move faster over herself. “Don’t tease me, Dane. I want you.”

I glide my thumb over the bead of precum at the tip and move my fist down my shaft again, taking a step towards her. In the small bathroom, I can pretty much cross the room with my long legs. She’s just one step away. Just one step and I can sweep her up in my arms and do whatever I want to her.

The thought -- just the thought -- brings me so fucking close, I need to pull in a deep breath for a moment to collect myself before I step past the shower door and stop right in front of her.

Her face is red, no longer from embarrassment but from the warm water pounding onto her from above and the feeling of her fingers circling her clit while she looks at me.

I’ve never seen anything so fucking hot in my life. I need to take it slowly, whatever happens next, or I’ll get some kind of a reputation with this girl for being fast. And that’s so not me. I need to take the time to make sure this beautiful girl climaxes as many times as she possibly can before I’m done with her.

Under the shower head, soaking my body in hot droplets, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her deeply while she touches herself, my cock brushing against her hips, urgently; needily. I drive my tongue between her lips while I thrust gently to put pressure on her fingers. I let her know, without words, that I want to replace her hand. I want to be the one to make her come.

She seems so close already, shaking and breathing fast, her nipples hard and pointed. I sink to my knees and she gasps at the unexpected movement. Without using my hands, I nudge her fingers with my tongue until she moves them out of the way, exposing her sensitive nub so I can lap at it.

My tongue moves over her fingers, wet from the shower and from her own juices, and I taste her while she quivers. She slides her middle finger in and out of her slick pussy and I lick upwards from her slit to her clit while she pants.

I wrap my lips around her and flick my tongue lightly until she whines and squirms, her fingers moving faster. My cock is untouched but leaking precum that quickly gets washed away by the streams of water from above. I twitch, needing to be inside her so badly, while she comes against my mouth and her own hand, throbbing and groaning my name in a way that makes me so fucking horny for her.

I release her when the trembling stops, and get back to my feet, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“Should we--”

I never find out what she was thinking, because when I hitch her up and press her against the wet shower tiles, her train of thought becomes completely derailed, and she just moans as I press my mouth hungrily against hers, so she can taste herself.

Her legs wrap around my waist as I drive inside her sweet, tight cunt and feel the aftershocks of her orgasm clench around me. I pump in and out as fast as I can without losing control. As I fuck her perfect pussy, I grip her so damn tightly, sliding all the way inside with every thrust and squeezing her waist and hips while she moans in delight.

The spray from the water and the steam is heating up our skin, the feeling of the trickling droplets like an intense simultaneous massage on my shoulders while Daphne massages my cock. It’s a sensory overload and I’m loving every second so much that I can’t help but explode inside her. I fill her for the second time in 24 hours and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Not even close.

I hold her while we come down again, my legs sturdy underneath both of us while hers shake. When she can set them reliably down again without sliding onto the floor of the shower, I let her, but I still hold her waist and kiss her hard.

“You’re so sexy,” she whispers into my mouth, and I don’t know how to put into words how I feel the same about her, and more.

“You’re the writer,” I say, “how do I tell you that you’re the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever known?”

She leans away so she can look me in the eyes, and she smiles. “Just like that.”

The doorbell rings and we both look in that direction. “Already?” I ask aloud.

“Food here is fast,” she confirms. “You’ve been in the mountains for too long.”

I let out a chuckle because she is probably right -- when someone arrives within thirty minutes up in the mountains it’s a coincidence or it’s a miracle. People are few and far between up there, just the way I like it.

I get the food from the front door, drop it off on the table, and return to the bathroom.

I watch Daphne as she dries herself off from head to toe, smoothing the fluffy white towel over the droplets shining on her skin, and I swallow, feeling myself grow hard all over again. I wonder if maybe I’m changing, right here in this suburban bathroom.

Maybe I’ve been on my own up there for too long.

Maybe being alone isn’t what I want anymore.

We move to the kitchen and she teases her long hair into untangled strands and then ties it up loosely while I grab plates and cutlery. She looks at the spread laid out on the table and she burst out laughing.

“Something funny?” I ask, looking in the same direction to see colorful containers and boxes piled up.

“How much did you think we were going to eat?” She looks through the different dishes. “There has to be enough here for six or seven people, Dane.”

I help myself to a portion of rice and then a few scoops of beef with black bean sauce, some sweet and sour chicken. “Well, you won’t need to cook for a couple of days,” I say simply. I watch as she helps herself to two or three things, and I’m more pleased than I’d like to admit that I ordered a couple of things she likes.

“I’m starving,” she exclaims as if surprised, through a mouthful of crispy duck.

“Well, have you eaten since last night?” She shakes her head. I smirk. “Guess you’ll need to keep me around to feed you, Daph.”

“Daph?”

“Sorry. Would you prefer I just call you Daphne?” I say, as I enjoy my food and my company. I realize I kind of miss civilization. Some parts of it. A large part of me, though, misses my cabin in the woods even though I’ve only been away for a couple of days.

I’ve honestly never felt conflicted before. As long as I can remember, I’ve known what I wanted. To be self-sufficient. To be isolated, but not completely. To be a ranger in the forest. To build my life with my own two hands.

Only if you build it yourself can you know for sure nothing will break down.

Or at least know where the cracks are.

“No one has called me Daph in a long time, is all.” She smiles, bringing a bottle of water to her lips. “I kind of like the way it sounds coming from you.”

Her smile is contagious. My cock stiffens at the sentiment, too, and it takes me a moment to catch up with my own errant blood flow. Why would that excite me so much?

I know full well, why. I just don’t want to think it out loud.

“So, when are we getting to the main event tonight?” I say, distracting myself from the direction my mind is wandering in.

She looks up, mouth full, eyebrows questioning. “Didn’t we already start that in the shower?”

“Yeah… I mean no. The collection, remember?” I shake my head sharply to rid myself of images of what we’ve already done today and the knowledge that it can only get better from here.

“The collection,” she repeats, and even though I’ve already been so fucking deep inside her, this beautiful girl blushes again. “I’ve never shown anyone my collection, so be cool, promise?”

Be cool?

“I’m always cool,” I say, tossing up an egg roll and catching it between my teeth. She laughs with surprise and claps her hands.

“How do you do that, by the way?” she asks.

“Hmm? You just kinda have to follow it with your eyes. And open your mouth. That part’s important.” There’s a pause. “Otherwise, it just bounces right off.”

“No, I mean… you’re always so confident. So sure of yourself. Have you always been like that?”

I think about it seriously; I never have before. “No,” I say finally. “Being here, growing up here, it made me doubt who I was. But when I left, I stopped feeling judged for wanting to be alone, for wanting to make it by myself and for wanting to duck out of the rat race. I get to be who I am, no more and no less, every day. That lack of pretense, of compromising who I want to be, it’s made me a stronger person.”

Daphne listens intently and then nods when I’m done. “I’m envious,” she says finally. “I’m always so far inside my own head, as a writer and all, that I sometimes can’t… see the forest for the trees. You know?”

“I know,” I say because I really do.

She’s eyeing me as I start to stack the boxes again. We both only ate a little. I know I’ll be hungry again later, but for now, it’s hard to keep my mind on anything but her. It seems like she feels the same, because she sets aside her own plate and gets to her feet, smoothing down the loose dress she changed into and reaching out to take my hand.

“I usually just write out in here because it’s near the coffee machine and it gets great sunlight,” she explains, nodding to her laptop on the kitchen table nearby, “but I do have an office. In case I need any… inspiration, I go in there for a little while.”

She gives me such a filthy smile that I’m instantly hard as I allow myself to be led down the hall and through the enticingly locked door of her office.

Once inside I’m struck and almost disappointed momentarily, by how normal it is in here. There’s a desk with an old desktop computer, and I wonder if she ever actually uses it. Beside the desk is a tall, cared for plant, and an entire wall-length, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.

Such a huge section of it is romance novels, and I wonder briefly if she wrote all of them, but that’s stupid. Maybe some of them, though, and I make a mental note to ask if I can take a quick look at something she has written later. I’m curious to see how she writes the way two people fall in love.

I’m curious to find out what she thinks the perfect man is like.

“Behind the books,” I hear Daphne’s voice nearby softly tell me. I realize I’ve been staring at the spines, wondering which name might be hers if she doesn’t use her real one. I haven’t seen any Daphnes at all yet.

“Behind?”

She sweeps over, the hem of her dress twirling as she moves, and she mesmerizes me as she takes a bunch of books in her hands and pulls them all off the shelf, setting them down on the desk.

Behind them is a dimple that stopped them from going back too far, and beyond that is a row of multicolored plastic … somethings.

I haven’t ever seen toys like these in real life, and certainly not this many.

“This is…”

“A lot?” she interrupts. “I know. I write sometimes for webzines and other online publications that review things like these. I get them for free. And I keep them all, you know after I’ve thoroughly researched.”

“All of these were sent to you for free?”

She turns back to me and rests her hand on my chest again. She did this last night too, and for some reason I find I like it a lot. The light contact. It feels urgent but restrained.

“Not all of them. Some just came highly recommended. Sometimes I’ll treat myself and buy something online to help me out with a scene I’ll be writing later.” She watches me as I stare at them, and then I turn around and raise my eyebrows at her.

“There’s so many. You’ve really used all these toys?”

She blushes.

“I’ve really tried all these toys, yes. At least once.”

I swallow, a dozen images swimming around in my head at once, vying for my attention, until there’s pretty much no blood left in my head at all.

“Well, fuck, Daphne,” I finally say. “Which one are we going to use first?”