Later, well after lights out, Karen still wide awake, lay in bed, tormented by her thoughts and the pull she felt in her core. She had always found it easy to attract and influence men, but this was something she’d never experienced. She had never been in love with Gregg, then she’d married Wayne to please her mother and now clearly Steve was interested. It all meant nothing compared to the intoxication she felt for the woman sleeping less than six feet away.

She peeled back her covers and quietly climbed out of bed, scared that the slightest sound might awaken Franky or alert a patrolling guard. She softly stepped over next to Franky’s bed to look at her. With the light from the barred window falling on Franky’s profile, she could see the still damp hair that curled at the nape of her tanned neck. Sleeping Franky had no bravado, no hardness or scorn, it was as if it all of that were a mask she put on each day to protect herself. Her hair was clean from the shower, not greased and her soft brown lashes rested on her boyish face as she slept. She was breathtaking.

Karen drank in every detail. Through the thin covers she could make out the curves of Frankie’s body. She watched the pulse in her neck and the outline of her collar bone and had to force herself not to reach out to see if she felt as good as she looked. In her efforts to stay silent, her swallow caught in her throat. Franky did not stir though. Karen moved around the bed. There was something she had noticed and wanted to see again. Franky had a peppering of little freckles on her face. Karen had noticed this during their reading session. It made her seem more innocent somehow and Karen had been unnerved to see them again when Franky had been so cruel later on.

There it was, one particular freckle on Franky’s top lip. Such a small detail, maybe Franky didn’t even know she had it but oh how many times had Karen thought about it. It was as if these little marks were a map showing Karen’s novice lips where to kiss this girl.