Quinn is crying in my ear, over the phone. She must truly be tormented, and this knowledge torments me. “What you and Daria have is real. I’ve never had anything real before.”

“Quinn,” I say, “don’t cry. Please don’t cry. You’ll make me cry, and I hate crying.”

Quinn, the little sadist, replies by crying harder, “But in another month, you’re going AWAY!”

Being a little sadistic myself, I respond, “I’ll tell Daria hi for you.”

“Jane, please!” says Quinn, perhaps a little loudly. I don’t want the ‘rents to hear her crying. “I’m here now, Quinn,” I murmur into the phone. I secretly wonder if I can leave her behind.

“I need to see you Jane,” she whimpers, but mostly in control of herself again. “I’m lonely.”

I reassure her, tell her how much I love her (still shocked that there may be some truth to this), that I want to see her too. Her breathing steadies. She’s either content or asleep.

Then she breathes softly into the phone, reminding me of how her breath, lips, tongue, teeth can tickle me so nicely, in so many ways, in so many places. “Jane,” she half says, half moans, “can I come over? Please?”

Again? I wonder. Of course I agree. Should I come meet her? No, she likes sneaking over on her own. Quinn is getting braver. There’s hope for her.

Quinn and I met and became lovers one night a little over a month ago on Drega Street. She was at the new Shakes Coffee Bar looking like a lost, scared kitten but refusing to leave. She sat down with something steaming and brown with white foam in a cup before her. I walked on in thinking to give her a hard time, for old time’s sake. It would give me something to
share with Daria next time we talked.

I was almost in touching distance before Princess Grace turned. When she turned to me, I could smell the wine on her breath. My eyes widened slightly, and I wondered about it. “Jane?” she asked. It was more than a question, it was a cry for help, and I abandoned my plans to torment her.

“Quinn?” I asked, “are you okay?”

She shook her head no, and then she grabbed hold of me like someone drowning. She didn’t smell as though she had taken THAT much wine, so what was going on? I asked her again, more softly, “are you okay?”

She shook her head no without looking up. People were beginning to look. Not many, and some were with measuring gazes. I sat Quinn down and took a seat next to her.

“Sorry about that,” she said, seeming to dry up.

“No problem,” I said with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh....” said so Quinnish, but she instantly stopped and looked back at me. “Nothing now, Jane. Would you like to go shopping with me? I got about a hundred bucks.” She reached into her purse to show me, but I grabbed her hand.

“That’s okay,” I said as she looked up. “I believe you. How much have you had to drink?”

“Maybe a little too much,” she said, “I thought maybe this one night. Then I came here and I’m having this instead.”

She was needing to talk, but she didn’t know how, and I didn’t want to leave her here. She’d get eaten alive around here. So I had some hot chocolate to go with Princess Grace’s.

She opened herself to me then. In a slightly slurred voice, she told me she couldn’t sleep because of many fears she had, and most of all, she realized, was that she was lonely. She needed someone real. I just sat and listened to her talk, because it seemed to me she needed someone to listen calmly to what she had to say, not feeling judged or tiresome.

After the chocolate, I felt pretty good. I think Princess Grace did, too. We went shopping like she wanted. I even got her to get her belly button pierced. I was amazed that she went through with it.

Then we went into Babydoll’s Lingerie and Lace. Quinn said the Fashion Club was over, but she should look into some fashions that she had neglected up to now. “Do you think I would look good in this?” she kept asking me. I just smiled and told her she would look good in anything that she wore. I’m not sure what she thought of that because she gazed at me almost quizzically.

Then Quinn grabbed me with one hand and pulled me into a dressing room, shocking me, Jane Lane, more than a little. But I’m easy going and quickly adjusted. “I want to see you in this,” said Quinn. She seemed so eager, that I smiled and complied, taking off my casual clothes and putting on the frilly piece of black lingerie.

“What do you think?” I asked, half amused, and deciding NOT to tell Daria about this.

“Hmmm,” she said in thought, and then she pinned me to the wall. And of all things, I responded.

Her height gave her an advantage, but I grabbed a handful of her red hair and pulled her head back until she gave off a tiny whimper. The sound made my pussy throb. She pushed her hand into my lingerie and rubbed at me, causing me to gasp in sudden surprise and desire. “Please,” I whispered, “please....” I don’t know what I wanted exactly, but I had to ask. And
I suddenly knew what I wanted when I felt 2 fingers entering my already soaked pussy. She kissed me softly on the neck while I encouraged her with tiny hip thrusts. She whispered to me, “Do you like this?”

I answered by pulling her hair even more, getting her to whimper again, and she dug the nails of her other hand into my back, going up to my shoulder, before using her fingers to grab my neck firmly and running her free hand through my hair, grabbing and pulling, and running her nails through it, while she slipped another finger in my increasingly hungry, demanding pussy.

I should have expected it, but I was stunned with the sudden orgasm that vibrated through my entire body and I screamed loudly before falling against her taller frame. Princess Grace said nothing, but there was a knock at the door by the saleslady saying we had to leave right now.

We left, laughing, not caring if all the world had heard us in there. Quinn seemed freer than she ever seemed before, and I felt the way Quinn looked. She radiated such intense liberated love and lust that I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Was this what the guys felt? I somehow knew this was a part of Quinn that none of the guys knew. It was mine and hers alone to

"More?" asked Quinn.

I nodded, smiling. “Where at?” I asked conspiratorially.

She cocked her head, thinking. “Your place,” she said.

And so it was at Casa Lane that I had my Princess Grace on my unfashionable bed, sitting naked off the side, with me equally naked kneeling before her. I traced my tongue along the lips of her pussy, teasing her until she’s
as soaked as I was in the dressing room. Her clit is small but very visible and I lick it lightly, until she grinds against my face, making me wet again. But I don’t give her what she wants, I keep my tongue light and teasing. I want to hear Princess Grace beg. But she doesn’t play that way.

She leans back, and with a long, slender foot, pushes me to the floor, where she descends on me, and she tastes herself as she kisses me deeply, pushing at me, playing with me. In response, I roll over onto her and this time it’s me putting the finger in. “More,” she whimpers, “more, dammit, more!” I put in 2 more, and then descend slowly until I’m back in that glorious
pussy, running my tongue over her and tickling her clit, pressing my fingers in, with Quinn shouting, “oh god, fuck me, Jane, fuckmefuckmefuckme, god, Jane, fuckme!” and then a wailing shriek that just doesn’t seem to stop, juices flowing over me in a sensual spray, and the sound of a collapse in another room.

We’re sitting there, gasping, and quickly get under the covers as we hear a knock. “Janie,” I hear Trent’s voice, “Are you okay? I thought I heard you scream.”

“No, Trent,” I say, sounding joyous to be alive, “that wasn’t me. Maybe you were having a nightmare.”

“That’s good,” said Trent. “Can I come in?”

“No, Trent, I’d rather you didn’t. It would be harder for me to go back to sleep.”

“Mmm,” went Trent, “good point. I think I’ll go back to bed, too.”

“You do that, Trent.”

“Is everything okay?” That was Mom’s sleepy voice.

“Everything’s fine, Mom. I just had a nightmare.”

“Me, too,” I hear Mom yawn, “I thought I heard the fire alarm go off, but now I remember we don’t have a fire alarm. G’night, Trent.”

“G’night, Mom.”

Both voices recede. Quinn and I kiss without reservation, playing with each other, trying to be a bit more careful. And we were wild for each other from then on.

And she came over night after night. We came again and again. We might’ve even been falling in love.

She also bought several items at the Toys in Babeland that I kept under my bed.

And now Princess Grace, upset that I was leaving for BFAC soon, was coming over again. By herself. Quinn was definitely growing up, getting brave, and learning what she liked.


Then there was a knock at the door. I was near the door, ready to let her in. “Shh!” I reminded her, “let’s not give Mom and Trent anymore nightmares!”

Quinn smiled again then. It’s a dazzling, enchanting smile. I couldn’t help but smile back in kind.She came in, dressed in black with a black beret that she liked to think of as her artistic expression. With sunglasses, at night. Very mysterious. But
it was our memories that made her very desirable to me. I came up close to her, put my mouth by her ear, and told her, “I want to put my fingers in you and make you cry louder than you've ever cried before." I love it that I can say such things to her, want to say such things to her, and know she wants to hear such things, and say such things back to me.

But now, she silently tosses her hair with a twist of her head, causing her red locks to swirl around as she imperiously sweeps by me, and began climbing the stairs. I caught up and we casually walked to my room as if we were merely going to help each other study. Princess Grace still had school, but she came here often enough and late enough regardless.

We collapse on the bed, now kissing, now feeling, now tearing at each other’s clothes. Damn, when was the urge to fuck this powerful? Could I really leave this? Could this awesome feeling truly be chemical alone? But then, with my lips becoming moist, I stopped thinking such philosophical thoughts and was just here in the moment with my Quinn, my Princess
Grace. Our clothes were off. Forget the fingers, I decide. I reached down under my bed and pulled out some toys. "I want to fuck you with a dick."

Quinn still says nothing, she helps me to put on the leather harness with the red rubber cock and I put just a little bit of lube, just in case, but it never seemed that we really ever needed it. Even when it hurt, it was wonderful.

Feeling a thrill similar to Quinn’s, I enter her, hearing that moan that makes me so wet (even when I just imagine it), her eyes going up just for a moment, her mouth in an O of surprise as if she still can’t believe this. I start off slow and languid while I kiss her around her opened mouth, and then I grab her hair and pull back, which gets her yelling and screaming more, getting me wetter, and faster, and she’s screaming again over and over louder and louder careless of the ruckus she raises, just as I did when we first did it in that dressing room.

No one comes to the door. Mom and Trent have figured it out and leave us alone.

Quinn seems to relax a moment, and then she builds again. “God, Jane, ohgodgodgodgod,” and more screams and  “fuckmegodjanefuckmejaneohohohoh,” and then she begins screaming so loud that my eardrums ring with her shrieks. I
finally let go, let her calm down, and slowly roll off her, with Quinn gasping for breath. Quinn has that same look of amazement as if each time she can’t believe what just happened, or maybe that she waited so long to come to me, and come with me.

Soon, it’s Quinn fucking me, now giving me the same high-grade, sheet ripping bliss as she grabs my wrists. She loves to grab my wrists and fingers, to hold them down. It’s her thing, and now it’s my thing, too, as I scream back at her into her eyes both loving and with just a touch of some cruel humor that somehow seems Daria-esque, but with a heat I never knew
Daria to have.

“Quinn,” I gasp between breaths....

“That’s right,” murmurs Quinn, “I want to hear my name.”

I laugh at her conceit, and love it, am drawn to it. “Quinn,” I murmur again.

“Louder,” she says simply and calmly, her hands going from my wrists to my hands, grabbing my thumbs. “I want you to yell my name, Jane.”

I comply when she gets rougher, shoving my hands down by my thumbs, pushing against the muscles of my cunt with the cock that is now hers, hurting me but I'm not wanting her to stop. I’m getting so close, so very close, and I say her name as a benediction, a prayer, a praise, a sign of love. “Quinn,”

“Yes?” she asks, smiling, so much like Daria, but beyond what Daria ever shown me in this way.

“Quinn,” I say again, and again, and again, the way she likes it, the way that makes her reward me by getting a bit rougher, a bit faster, and I yell, “More goddammit, Quinn!” and then I’m screaming at the top of my lungs and all I hear and see and smell and taste and feel are Quinn above me, fucking me, making me whole, causing me to trancend who I am or ever thought I was, as I now shriek her name without syllables, without any meaning to any other than Quinn, my scream roaring in my ears, my body jerking convulsively as I surrender myself completely to her power.

“Quinn,” I say again, as she slows, and then stops. She cuddles next to me. “Quinn,” I say, without knowing what to say next.

“Jane,” she says back, and I hold her content, no longer worried as we wrap ourselves in each other's arms.