She came at me with a rush of energy that I hadn't expected. She ripped at the sleeves of my coat. She pulled it off my shoulders and onto the floor in one aggressive motion. She kissed me at an incredible pace. I couldn't keep up with her. Eventually, I was only kissing the air where she had been the moment before, and she was kissing another part of my face, or my neck, or my shoulders.

She was pulling me toward the bed, and then she stopped half way. She was distracted with all the kissing.

She was on a horny high, I get it, but the girl was kind of all over the place.

She was reaching for my bra. She was pulling it off my shoulders. I grabbed her forearms.

"Delphine," I said. "Delphine, slow down."

"I can't," she said. She tried to kiss me again. She was out of breath and focused on my lips.

"Delphine," I said again.

Finally, she took a step back. She gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. Then she shook her head. "It's just I've never..."

"I know, you've never smoked before," I said. "It's okay."

"Yeah," she said. "I think I'm experiencing... some sort of anxiety."

"Don't worry," I said. "It happens to everyone."

She looked away. We stood there for a moment. We were both panting and awkward. I still held her forearms in my hands. I reached for her hands instead.

"Here," I said. I led her to the bed. "Sit down. Just relax."

She sat on the edge of that bed and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. I saw the anxiety she was talking about. It was there in the lines of her face. I stroked her cheek. She turned her lips toward the palm of my hand. I brushed her lips with my thumb.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"I think so," she said.

"Let's just be mellow," I said.

"Like the song?" she said.

"What song?" I said.

"They call me mellow yellow," she sang softly and smiled.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, like that," I said.

She laughed too, and I saw some of that anxiety dissipate. Then I leaned down to kiss her, with my hand still on her face. She put her hands on my hips first, but then she was moving them up my back.

She was moaning and pulling me down toward the bed, but I pulled away.

"Wait," I said. "Mellow, remember?"

"I think I don't like mellow," she said.

I stood two steps away from her. She reached out for me.

"Cosima," she said. "We don't have time for..."

I smacked her hand away playfully. Then I reached around and unhooked my own bra. She was watching me with a wonderful mix of curiosity and desperation. It was kind of fun to tease her. I held my bra in front of my chest. Then I pulled it away and covered my breasts with one arm. I dropped the bra on the floor and took a step closer to her.

She pulled me close and kissed me on the breastbone. Then, after only a moment's hesitation, she was all over my breasts. She was back to kissing me a million times a minute. I think she even bit me a few times.

"Delphine," I said. "Wait."

She looked up at me with very serious eyes.

"Cosima, I can't," she said. "I can't wait."

Clearly, I was missing something. She was not in the mood to play. She was not in a playful mood at all. There was something earnest in her eyes that I couldn't understand.

"Okay," I said.

That was the moment I gave up control. I let her pull me onto the bed. I let her kiss me a million times. The half-baked part of me almost wanted to laugh. I saw us in my mind's eye, and I almost got the giggles, twice, as I watched her manic movements. The other part of me, a less shallow part of me, was getting caught up in her whirlwind. It was like I was slowly catching on to her inner urgency.

Her kisses became rougher and sloppier, and mine did, too. She was grabbing at me, and I started to grab back.

I let her top me. I was on my back for her, and she had her thigh pressed hard between my legs. She pushed against me over and over again, and I let her. I raised my legs for her, and I dug my nails into her back. I bit her shoulder whenever her shoulder was close to my mouth.

Maybe in the beginning I was just playing, matching her move for move, but I felt something rising up in me. What was she doing? Whatever she lacked in technique she was making up for with passion. I felt some deep desire coming out. She was drawing it out of me. She was pulling on something primal.

"Take it off," I said. I didn't need to clarify. She understood right away. She stood up next to the bed, only long enough to get out of her bra and panties.

"You too," she said. I raised my hips and she pulled mine off.

I watched her come back to the bed. I anticipated the moment when her naked body was pressed against mine. But I barely had a chance to notice, because she was quickly grinding against me again. It was driving me crazy. Finally, I pushed her hand down. I felt her whole body shake when she touched me there. She looked me in the eyes, and I could have died at her expression. Her eyes were full of wonder and mischief, like a kid who just found the secret stash of Christmas presents in her parents' closet.

"Do it," I said.

I felt her go inside of me, but it wasn't enough.

"More," I said.

"More what?" she said.

"More fingers!" I said.

"Oh," she said. "Like this?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yes."

I could have shouted out more commands, but I bit my tongue. I just focused on the sensations, and she just focused on her timing. She had good rhythm and good intuition. The thought crossed my mind, that given enough time and practice, I could have groomed her into a lady-love-making machine. Somethings could be taught, but what she was doing to me right then, at that moment, that wasn't one of them. She was a natural.

She was still on top of me, but somehow I wasn't satisfied. I had to touch her. I made her sit up. I made her straddle my thighs. I sat up too, so that we were face to face. Well, actually, my face was eye-level with her breasts, but I wasn't complaining. I reached down between her legs. She gasped as I entered her. Then she curled over me, and leaned her head on my shoulder. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and began rocking against my hand.

She was making a lot of noise then, and I guess I was, too. She was saying things in French that I couldn't understand, but it didn't matter. She could be reciting a scone recipe for all I cared. Every word she said brought me that much closer...that much...

"Touch me!" I said finally.

"Quoi?" she said. "Où?"

I understood that much.

"Here!" I said. "Here!" I put her hand where I wanted it. "Just here."

She looked me in the eyes as she touched me. She brushed her finger against me, maybe once, maybe twice, I can't remember now. Each time was like a small explosion. I bucked against her, but I could not look away. She held me in her gaze like she was trying to tell me something. But I couldn't read her signs. She touched me one last time and I closed my eyes. Our embrace became like a death grip. Arms, backs, and thighs were tight and clasped together.

"Oh shit!" I shouted.

"Merde!" she shouted.

And then something else happened. I should have seen it coming, but to be honest I was caught by surprise.

As my own grip relaxed, hers grew tighter. I thought first that she was still coming, still clenching in orgasm. But I was wrong. She was crying. And this wasn't one tear at the corner of her eye, like before. This was a real cry that was quickly turning into a sob.

I couldn't see her face. She was hugging me too tightly.

"Hey," I said. "Are you okay?"

She nodded her head against my shoulder. I just stroked her hair and hushed her the best I could. But the crying was getting stronger. The worst part was, she was trying to hide it. But, of course, with her hugging me like that, I felt every breath and every muffled sob. All I could do was hold her.

"Shhhh," I said. "It's okay."

Somehow, by comforting her, my own emotions started to swell up. By holding her in that vulnerable place, I suddenly felt vulnerable. What was she doing to me? I realized then, that I had let her into a very secret, very raw space. That was never my intention. Is this what Sarah was warning me about all along?

"Please don't cry," I said. "You're going to make me cry."

She sat up then, and put her hands on my face. She smiled an embarrassed smile. Then she wiped at the tears in the corner of my eye.

"I'm sorry," she said through sniffles.

"I know," I said. "You cry after sex."

She wiped at her own nose and mouth.

"No, I lied," she said.

"What?" I said.

"Before, when I told you I cry after sex with boys, too. It was a lie," she said.

"Really?" I wiped her face, too. She was smiling still. Some people are ugly criers, but Delphine was not. But I knew that the first day I met her. She had seduced me with these tears once before.

"It's too embarrassing," she said. She looked away for a moment. "Actually, it's never happened to me before."

"Don't worry," I said. "It's just hormones, a chemical reaction. It's no big deal, really."

Even though I said it was no big deal, and science said it was no big deal, I had a sneaking suspicion that it was a big deal - that it was the biggest deal. What had I gotten myself into?

"What if it happens every time?" she said. "Don't you think you would get tired of it?"

"Never," I said. But my mind was racing at what she was implying. Every time? There will be other times? And many of them? Enough to get tired of her? I hadn't even let myself imagine that scenario. Had she? Maybe Sarah was wrong.

I shook off the thought.

"What about the part about being hungry? Is that part still true?" I asked.

Her eyes lit up. They were extra shiny through her fading tears.

"What do you mean? Eskimos?" she said the word carefully.

"Yeah," I said. "I still have two cold Eskimo Pies in the freezer. Sound good?"

"That sounds magnifique!" she said.

I tried to get up, but she wouldn't move.

"Wait," she said. Then she gave me a long, deep kiss.

That's when I felt it. I'm not sure what it was, but I think it was something that no one saw coming. Not Sarah, not Delphine, and least of all, me.

Whatever it was, it had me as high as a kite, and I was hungry, too. It was time for those Eskimo Pies.