Page 227 of Phoenix's Fire

"Well, men poop the same way. It's a hole."

Her mouth flopped open. "You have sexual relations where you defecate?"

"Yep," I said, picking the path to the left as the trail split. "Men have a gland in there that gets stimulated with the friction. It makes things feel very good."

"Women don't have glands."

I sputtered out a laugh. "Um, you have other parts."

"What?"

"Clitoris, or clit," I said. "Don't tell me you don't even know how to masturbate!"

The girl actually huffed. "I lived in a compound where there was alwayssomeone with me. Masturbation is sinful, Rymar." Then she took a very long drink. "And I don't know how."

"And I'm not drunk enough for that talk," I decided, but I staggered, proving that was a lie.

That was when we came out of the underbrush to reveal a beautiful and very secluded pool. Here, the creek branched off, trickling through a natural rock formation. It had been running here long enough to carve out a small pool about the size of our living room before running off on the other side. The water wasn't too deep, just over four feet, and the soft babble of the water was relaxing. Overhead, the bright moon meant I had a chance of actually seeing where I was going.

"This," I said, throwing my arms out, bottle still clasped in one hand, "is my favorite swimming hole."

Then I headed to the edge and set down the bag before peeling off my shirt. That got tossed away from the rocky edge, landing in the moss or grass that made up the bank. My shoes came next, but I had to set the bottle down to get those off. And while my hands were free, I opened my pants and pushed them to the ground.

Ayla gasped, spinning around. "Rymar!'

I laughed. "I'm going to swim, Phoenix. It'll be fun."

"You're naked!" she hissed.

"Okay, okay," I said, grabbing my bottle and hurrying over to the water. Carefully, I lowered myself in, then turned back to face her. "It's safe. I'm covered."

She turned back around, then gave me an exasperated look when she realized I'd only gotten into the water. "You're still naked."

"And you're not a prude anymore," I reminded her. But I paused. "Ayla. You can't swim in leather and a skirt. It's water. It's safe, and I will not let you drown. I also don't care how much or how little clothes you have on, because we are friends - but you should know leather doesn't do well if it gets wet." I tilted my head. "I promise I will not assume anything except that my friend is making my bad night a whole lot better."

"And it's okay?" she asked.

I wagged a finger at her. "Nope, you have to say what you mean, because 'okay' covers a lot."

She took a few steps closer. "It's allowed?"

"If and only if you allow it," I said. "You can sit on the edge if you want."

She made a face. "Maybe you can turn around?"

So I turned, putting my back to her. "The rocks at the edge can be slippery, so be careful."

"Okay," she replied, but I could hear her rustling.

A moment later, a boot hit the grass, then the other. There was a bit more fabric moving, and then the soft sound of her feet on the grass moved closer. When Ayla slipped into the water, it was almost silent - except for the little breath.

"It's not cold!" she said.

"Can I turn again?" I asked.

"Okay, but you can't see anything, right?"

I turned to face her. There in the moonlight, her hair shined in shades of silver and shadows. The water swirled moonlight around her, reflecting it back in her pale eyes. I could see her shoulders, much more muscular than they'd been so long ago, but that was all.

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