The bath was almost warm compared to the room’s chilly temperature. The candlelight flickered softly over the tub's inland sea. Having turned away discreetly as Jodi slipped from her night shirt, Brandy now spread soap over the latter's back and shoulders—wondering what anomaly might lurk sight unseen. "Feel good?" "Wonderful… So, tell me about your none-too-talkative friend. Why, for instance, have you two not become lovers." "How did you know?" "Oh, just a feeling. I get feelings about people sometimes—especially about the ones with lots going on. You know, underneath the surface? He’s like that. You both are, really, only in different ways." "What else do you ‘feel’ about Mister Hitchhiker?" "Are you sure you want to know?" "Why wouldn’t I?" "I think he’s only pretending; he’s not really mute… " Brandy was impressed—and suddenly apprehensive about hearing more. "… and he’s dangerous." "Simon? What do you mean; how?" "He has power. Lots. But I don’t think he’s aware yet, or knows how to use it." "Jodi, what are you talking about?" "Haven’t you noticed? He’s done things, I’ll bet, odd, improbable things you couldn’t explain." "Where are you getting all this?" "I told you; I have feelings about certain people." "Well, I’ll admit he’s a little peculiar… which doesn’t make him ‘dangerous’ necessarily." "Well, maybe I'm wrong. But I get the distinct impression he’s heading for trouble, like he's riding two wild horses toward a fork in a road. He'll either have to choose or find himself ripped apart." "And what if I refuse to let that happen?" Detecting Brandy’s protectiveness, Jodi changed approach. "You’re really fond of him, aren’t you?" "No. Well, a little, I guess. I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like him." There followed an awkward silence… Brandy feeling a twinge of déjà vu (surely this conversation had taken place somewhere). Jodi seemed contrite (having said too much too soon). "You were going to tell me how you two hooked up, something about getting stuck way out in the desert?" "Oh, that. It was weird… A lot of things, I admit, have been pretty weird… Do you have any shampoo?" "Over by the sink." Returning with the bottle, Brandy worked up a lather in Jodi’s lackluster hair—deciding an 'edited' version of the past would suffice.
"So, what do you think, Jodi? Is it possible for one person to find his way into another person’s dream?" Jodi had been encouraging Brandy’s tale with nods and occasional comments, partly out of interest, partly out of wanting to stay submerged. She was getting waterlogged, however. To stand and step out with her back turned would have been relatively simple. Why risk ridicule, rejection, or sentiments akin to disgust? "Brandy, if I don’t get out of this water I’ll dissolve. Look, already my palms have shriveled into prunes." Though sounding nonchalant, Jodi's voice betrayed a subtle quaver—triggering, in her guest, anticipation of unsightly growths, hideous tumors, revolting clumps of vile, unnatural flesh; Brandy offered to leave. "I’ll wait for you outside." "No, please!… Stay." In an effort to spare them further postponements, Jodi stood, stepped out of the tub, then pivoted front and center—light from the candle falling unobstructed on her glistening "little man."
Having fantasized far worse, Brandy was not repulsed by what she beheld—a single peculiarity. Jodi’s body, otherwise, was perfectly normal (except, perhaps, her figure was trimmer than most). Trying not to shiver, Jodi fixed her hopes on Brandy’s response. "Well?" "You want my honest opinion?" Jodi nodded. "To my subjective eye, you're positively beautiful… " All smiles and blushes of a sudden, Jodi threw herself into Brandy's arms. "… beautiful and soaked to the skin. Here, let me dry you off." A new sensation swept through Jodi's consciousness (as Brandy wrapped her in terry-cloth and patted her dry), gratitude now exchanged for a sweet titillation. To think that someone would neither laugh nor pull a droll face at seeing her disfigurement, was such a dream come true Jodi buzzed with joy. Carried away, she sat on the tub edge, moved the candle between her knees, and allowed it to illumine her (erect) malformation.
"Go ahead, if you'd like. Take a good long look." Brandy, clearly intrigued, accepted the invitation. She knelt, tilted her head sideways, then leaned so close her breath tickled the hair on Jodi’s mons. Normally, where there would have been a clitoris, a tiny penis protruded (replete with functional foreskin and miniature glans). Except for this, Jodi’s sex looked unimpaired (what Brandy could see of it). "It’s called ‘female pseudo-hermaphroditism’—clinically, that is—with ‘a urogenital sinus at the base for both urethra and vagina.’ What that means in English is ‘everything works.’ " "Does it, you know, grow like a guy’s?" "Touch it and see." From Brandy’s point of view, this all seemed rather innocent—two girls locked in the lavatory for a game of "Show & Tell." But when the tiny organ throbbed under her fondling, guilt urged Brandy’s fingers to cease and desist; a dalliance with Jodi might very well jeopardize something more durable with Simon… though how to discourage the former, without offending her, was the problem at hand. To recoil would be to reject. To proceed would be to arouse (and face consequences later). The situation was delicate, though not without precedent; sex with other women had happened in the past: once as a teenager at a girlfriend’s slumber party; more recently during a backstage interlude at the club). Both experiences had been pleasant (if vaguely inadequate), gentler (sexier even) than most bouts with men. Brandy looked at Jodi’s suspense-filled features (diabolically lit by the candle below) and struggled for some graceful means to disengage. "I’ve often thought how odd it would be to have a body part that got big all by itself. Or are you making it do that?" "No. You are." Fully extended, Jodi’s "little man" was the size of Brandy’s thumb. "It looks like the blunted horn of an itsy-bitsy unicorn." "And will you, my fair Maiden, cradle you head in my ever-loving lap?" Leaning forward, Jodi tendered a playful kiss on Brandy's brow… then kissed her again, this time on the lips (much more in earnest). For an uninhibited moment, both mouths sought tongues. Then, reminded of Simon, Brandy pulled away. "But, Jodi, I’m no virgin." "And I’m not a horse. Here, slip into this; you’re all wet from me and these puddles." She handed Brandy the flannel nightgown. "Why don't we 'retire,' as they say, to my boudoir? 'Living room,' that is. We can light a fire in the pot belly stove. Would you like some tea?" Brandy, irresolute, gave a circumspect nod.
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