Alone in her bed now, Simone lay there reliving the events of the night before.  Expressionless but becoming increasingly aware of the primary and all too familiar feeling of guilt as fleeting images flashed through her mind.  ‘Annabelle.  My back against the wall, her hands all over me, her mouth open to mine.’  Her body jerked responsively, remembering too.   ‘Her face… looking up at me as she knelt in front of me, kissing my stomach…my breasts.‘   She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes.  ‘Her body under mine, her soft skin against mine, her wrist trapped beneath my hand, the weight of her on top of me.‘   Breathing a little unevenly and moaning softly.  ‘Uuhhh, her hand on the inside of my thigh, her breath on my neck, the sound of her breathy encouragement  ‘yeeeaahhh…..c’mon,…..hhhmmmm,…… yeeaahh  (shivering at the sheer power of that alone,) her fingers moving inside me…’   Sitting bolt upright, she denied herself the pleasure of recalling the pure ecstasy of the climax she experienced under Annabelle’s touch.  ‘Stop Simone.  You can’t let yourself re-live it, even in your thoughts, because you never should have lived it in the first place.’ 

Having now done an internal about face she began in earnest the task of berating herself for letting Annabelle touch her that way, for allowing herself to touch Annabelle that way.  "This is all my fault.  Why did I Kiss her?  Why did I bring her back to my room?  How did I let this happen?  Not really answering her own questions, because she didn’t completely know the answers to some of them herself and because the return of rational thought told her, in no uncertain terms, that there was no good answer.  Nothing would make what happened acceptable.  What had been allowed in the night, in the heat of passion, must be denied,  in abject clarity, this morning and it would never be easily explained away.  ‘There is no justifying this.’  Simone stated to herself.

Extending her upturned hands in front of her, Simone looked on them as she considered how only hours ago they had let go of sanity and grabbed hold of Annabelle — gripping Annabelle’s thigh and back as waves of indescribable pleasure washed over her body. Oh my … what was I thinking?  She asked herself rhetorically, before mocking herself.  Huh, obviously I wasn’t really thinking at all.  Now she could only plant her head in those guilty hands as she tried to make sense of the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of her departure from reason already knowing that sense was conspicuously absent from the events of last night.