TMIVT update

Rachel was feeling much the same way that Kitty did. On some subtle level, she was linked to Kitty, and she could tell through psychic vibrations that Kitty was thinking of her, thinking of sex. The nostalgia reverberated through her—remembering the friendship Kitty had offered her, the love, and finally, breathtakingly, the physical. A hand in hers, a hug, a kiss, a caress… then more. So much more. The mixture of emotional warmth and bodily lust she felt thinking of Kitty was intoxicating.

Since she was technically going to school, Rachel washed up and changed into a short gray skirt with pleats, a navy blue sweater, dark blue knee socks, and saddle shoes in blue and red. As per usual, she pulled her red hair into a ponytail, while glossing her lips in a similarly gleaming shade. Just the thing to wear to see the teacher, she thought, admiring herself in a mirror.

She walked outside, feeling a cool breeze pleasurably flick her skirt about, enjoying the calm evening and the gentle weather as she walked across the campus to Kitty’s room. She was prepared to introduce herself through the window, just like she’d used to visit Kitty with a little zen for privacy, when she saw that Kitty already had company. Jean Grey the younger was sitting with Kitty on her loveseat. The two were cuddling together, one of Jean’s legs slung over Kitty’s knee, and it almost would’ve struck Rachel as just some friendly intimacy if it weren’t for how Kitty was playing with that firm thigh—coming just shy of where Jean’s skirt laid on it.

“You know, back when we were just fighting Magneto and Sentinels, I didn’t think my life could get much more exciting,” Jean said. “But, here we are.”

“Exciting in good ways and bad,” Kitty mused.

“Things were always going to get worse before they got better. That’s why we trained so hard. But think of the odds against you and me. Traveling through time to meet you, and finding out that in the future, I’m going to—that we’re…” Jean ducked her head and blushed. “God! It’s all so weird. But it’s ours. I can’t help thinking we deserve to be this happy, just because of everything we put ourselves through to get here.”

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” Kitty said as her hand moved under Jean’s skirt. Rachel didn’t see how close it got to the crotch of her panties, but she saw Jean move her thighs further apart. 

“It makes me happy making you happy,” Jean said with a warm sigh—no doubt feeling Kitty stroking her groin. Rachel could only imagine how warm her cunt was. “I want to come up with things to do to you that no one’s ever done before. I want to invent whole new sex acts to make my girl happy.”

“Hey,” Kitty said, “don’t forget who’s the top around here. I’ve got a whole lot of things to teach you before you need to start making things up.”

“So teach me.”

Rachel realized that she was hiding to the side of the window, concealing herself from view in case one of them should just happen to look at the window, at the same time that she realized she was going to watch.

***

Jean was the psychic, but when Kitty started things with her, it was like she owned her, body and soul. Laying down for Kitty to sixty-nine with her, she jerked her hips up invitingly and flicked her tongue in and out. She didn’t know what she was looking forward to more, having Kitty eat her out or tasting Kitty’s juicy cunt once again. But since she was going to have both, it hardly mattered.

“Eat my pussy, Kitty. Tongue my cunt!” she pleaded excitedly, whipping her groin up to Kitty’s face.

But Kitty was not a glutton but a gourmet. She wanted to make a lingering meal of this. She licked up and down Jean’s slender chest, nuzzling into her breasts, before they kissed upside-down, tongues meeting in a tangled dance. Then Jean thrust her cleavage out and pulled Kitty to her breasts, suckling on Kitty’s swollen teats as Kitty did the same to hers. It was almost more fun to be mouthing Kitty, tasting her, then it was to have her own tit sucked on.

Kitty pulled away from her, crawling over Jean’s body and kissing her way down Jean’s torso to her groin. Although she sniffed appetizingly at Jean’s pussy, she bypassed it to kiss Jean’s thighs instead. There was something about Jean’s semi-bratty impatience that made it so much fun to tease her.

“Shove your fucking tongue into my pussy!” Jean begged, so hot for Kitty that she felt like her wet pussy was boiling.

“Soon, baby, soon… I want a little appetizer first,” Kitty mewled.

She took hold of Jean’s slender hips and tugged until Jean gave in and turn over. Jean was puzzled for a moment, then her jaw dropped as she felt Kitty spreading her firm buttocks apart, exposing her anus. Kitty lowered her face to it and slipped her tongue out to nuzzle between the inner curves of Jean’s ass.

“My asshole—!” Jean squealed. “You’re going into—my asshole!”

Kitty ran her tongue along the vale between asscheeks, slowly, moistly, dipping it into Jean’s anus and then bypassing it, coming back to it, working the tip of her tongue inside, all while Jean moaned and sighed, grinding her clenching pussy down against the loveseat, trying to get some relief from the illicit lust she was feeling.

Kitty’s tongue plunged into Jean’s ass, lips sucking at the tightly puckered rim. Jean’s anus was tart and tangy, with just a subtle hint of the damp arousal from her pussy adding to the delicious taste. Jean shoved her ass eagerly up to Kitty, panting like a dog in heat as she imagined what Kitty’s expert tongue could do to her sex once it was done with her asshole.

And Jean’s submission, her desperation, was making Kitty even hungrier. She couldn’t resist Jean’s pussy anymore. She was starving for it. Kitty gave Jean’s asshole one last, loving kiss, then she rolled her onto her back again. Jean’s knees lifted up, her slim thighs opening wide. Kitty stared at her cunt and the lustful perfection that glazed it, Jean’s feminine juices flowing out of her because of what Kitty had done to her and how much she wanted her to do more. 

Kitty dropped down, giving Jean’s engorged clit a little kiss, Jean moaning luridly as if unable to believe what she’d just felt. But immediately, Kitty pulled herself back again, breathing in the rising smell of Jean’s smoldering pussy. She was going to enjoy it so much. And she knew Jean would too.

“Eat me out, Kitty,” Jean breathed, straining to keep her voice even, trying to seem grown-up and mature and not like a sex-starved teenager in a way that only made Kitty more fond of her. Like a shark in a feeding frenzy, Kitty dove down to—

Katherine, Emma’s ringing psi-speak filled Kitty’s head. As if a migraine headache had suddenly struck, she halted, holding her head in her hands. “Ahh,” she keened. I have need of you. Come to my office immediately.

“Is that Miss Frost?” Jean asked. She was talented enough to recognize the ‘voice’ of Emma’s message, but not yet so powerful that she could tell what had been said.

Right now, Katherine. Or would you like it if your little indiscretion came to light with Jean Grey’s own daughter staying with us?

“I have to go,” Kitty said, pulling herself away from Jean so abruptly that she had to phase to avoid getting tangled up with her. In a rush, she was redressing herself, straightening her clothes and wiping her mouth clean.

“Go? Go where? What is it?” Jean demanded.

“X-Men emergency, kiddo,” Kitty said. “Don’t worry about it. Teacher stuff.”

Jean watched Kitty collect herself. “But… can’t we…”

“No, we can’t—we shouldn’t even be doing this,” Kitty fumed, angry with herself for even being in this position. “But as long as we are, we shouldn’t let it get in the way of…”

“More important things?” Jean asked, covering her womanhood with her hands as if in shame.

Kitty reached out to stroke Jean’s cheek. “You are important. You’re very important. But I can’t always be there for you. There are things I have to do. Some of them are even to protect you.”

“Now you sound like Scott,” Jean groused.

“Scott’s not such a bad guy.”

“I don’t love him.”

“Yes, you do,” Kitty said. “Or you will or… I have to go, alright? But I was having a really great time. You’re great.”

“I don’t feel great,” Jean whined as Kitty gave her a somewhat apologetic, somewhat chastising look, then phased through the wall. 

Outside, it was easy enough for Rachel to follow her. She wanted to see what Kitty was up to just as badly as her mother did.

***

The moment Kitty barged into Emma’s office, the blonde let out an ecstatic trill, as if having enjoyed the first sip of a delicious wine, aged to perfection. She was sprawled on her couch, long legs on display with one of them hooked over the armrest, her body displayed pristinely for Kitty’s edification. She wore no pants, but the extravagance of the clothing on her upper body, her jewelry, and the sheer elegance of her crotchless pantyhose on her toned legs made her appear impeccably dressed, even with her diamond of shaven pubic hair on display.

“Oh, such outrage!” Emma poured. “And all that confused lust—yet you’re so eager. You just get better and better, Katherine. Making you my bitch was the best investment I ever made. It means I never have to masturbate again. Whenever I get the itch, you just bring that cute little face of yours to my cunt.”

“Fuck you,” Kitty said. “You should’ve waited. I’m not at your beck and call.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Finishing off Jean, then coming here to service me, your lips still tasting of her cunt. Tempting as that is, dear—I don’t come second. So stop pretending you’re not turned on and make me come first already.”

Kitty crossed her arms angrily. “Make me. And don’t pretend you don’t want to.”

Emma sighed as she got up from her throne-like lounging. “Such a willful cunt. It’s a good thing I like disciplining you so much, seeing as you never manage to learn your lesson…”

She slowly began undressing Kitty, savoring it, whispering psi-speak letting Kitty know that she was thinking of how Jean had enjoyed every feature of the woman, from the tight little breasts to the well-rounded hips and full buttocks. Kitty actually felt déjà vu as her soft pussy hair and pouting mound were uncovered, remembering how she’d felt as giggly Jean had unveiled those—she knew Emma was tasting those memories, getting off on them.

“You can spy on everything like the voyeur you are,” Kitty said, “but she’d never touch you in real life. Do you want to kiss me? I think I still have some of Jean on my lips.”

“I’m not interested in Jean,” Emma said. “I’m interested in how hot she got you. Oh, you’re so in love, Katherine Pryde, but I’m the one who’s going to fuck you. I’m the one who’s going to make you come. And we both know you’ll like it more that way.”

Shoving Kitty down onto the couch, she forced her legs apart.

From her spying vantage point, Rachel heard Emma’s relished moan as she looked between Kitty’s open thighs. Emma had her back to the window which, in her carelessness, she had left open. Then Emma moved her head, letting Rachel see what had excited her so much. 

Kitty’s clitoris was the size of a Brazil nut, completely erect now, full of desire for Jean which was now Emma’s to play with. The White Queen covered it with her hungry mouth and Kitty squealed like a pig, coming in seconds, flooding Emma’s wildly sucking mouth with her cream. Rachel licked her lips as she watched. She remembered the taste. 

Rachel gasped, feeling Kitty’s guilty enjoyment as Emma’s tongue and fingers wreaked havoc through her tender sex. Kitty lay there, helpless with desire, closing her eyes as Emma straddled her face, lowering her own cunt to Kitty’s wide open mouth.

“Yes, think of Jean,” Emma purred. “We both like it the same way…”

Kitty ate hungrily, eagerly, moaning as Emma reached back to continue her ministrations on her cringing cunt. They both screamed out their shared release, the sweat flowing from their thrashing bodies, their eyes rolling back in their heads as they enjoyed each other’s shame and transgression and dominance and submission, with Rachel standing just feet away, watching it all.

Sometime during this, it became clear to Rachel that Kitty was taking control from Emma. It was Kitty who, at first with timidity, then with growing vigor, snaked a finger between Emma’s voluptuously curved buttocks. Emma groaned in pained surprise, but a moment later she was crying out in ecstasy, proving she and Jean really did have much in common. Though Rachel doubted her would-be mother would enjoy a second and third finger as much as Emma did.

It went on for ten minutes, Rachel glued to the sight of Kitty topping from the bottom, until Emma put a stop to it. Panting in exhaustion, she directed Kitty to a certain drawer in her desk and told her to take out a black box. The box was opened, and Rachel hid just in time for Kitty not to see her as she looked back at Emma, eyes wide in surprise and anticipation, reverently pulling out an eight-inch dildo from which a series of straps dangled. Rachel felt a sense of admiration as Emma instructed Kitty on how to put the thing on. Then Kitty went to work on Emma, both of them taunting each other, seeming to like it more the more they hated each other.

It was all too much for Rachel; she couldn’t keep watching without trying to join in, and she didn’t know if she wanted Kitty to associate her with this hatesex, much less be embroiled in Emma’s brand of games. Careful not to give her presence away, she tip-toed away from the pained ululations of Emma’s pleasure, the blonde enjoying herself all the more as Kitty tried harder and harder to hurt her. 

***

Rachel went back to Kitty's room, but Jean had left. Rachel tried her at her room next. She could feel her mother's thoughts buzzing inside like hornets in a nest. She knocked at the door, but Jean didn't answer. Rachel kept trying, adding a consolingly inquisitive telepathic message as well. Rachel felt Jean's thoughts still as she broke out of whatever self-destructive cycle her mind had been in. Jean opened the door, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

“Hello, Rachel. Hi. Can I help you?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Rachel said. “Need some company?”

“I guess—never a bad time for some mother-daughter bonding, is it?”

Blowing her nose, Jean toed the door open and stepped out of the way. Rachel came in, suddenly surrounded by the miasma of Jean's feelings. They’d been building up for a while. “Not having a good night?”

Jean smiled wearily. There was something still so beautiful in her sadness. Rachel could see how Scott was so obsessed with her. Why everyone was so obsessed with her. “Does it matter? I'm going to forget all this. I'm going to be dead for all this.”

“I still think of you. Who doesn't?”

“How do you think it feels to be thought of?” Jean asked. “I don't want to be important. There's just one person I want to be important to, but how can I be important when I won't remember? We don't matter. So I'm just this side thing.”

“Side chick,” Rachel said, before biting her tongue. “Is what someone might call..--”

Jean sniffled. “I just want to be her person, but I'm competing with this other me. I'm going to become her, and then I'll matter, but—I’m stuck like this. I have a headache.”

“Maybe you're tired. When was the last time you slept?”

Jean looked guilty. “I don't want to miss anything while I'm here.”

“Take a nap. While you're sleeping, Kitty will miss you.”

Jean blinked, her tired, strained consciousness absorbing the impact slowly, groaning like old metal. “You know?”

“I'm from the future,” Rachel shrugged. She patted Jean's shoulder. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I can’t sleep,” Jean said with a kind of morose determination.

“Here, let me try something.” Rachel put her hands to Jean’s head, a musical note of psi-speak asking for permission to pass through Jean’s barriers, and Jean obligingly lowered them. Then Rachel beamed the sense-memories of a fetus in utero into Jean. Jean was instantly pacified. “Now, let’s get you into a nightie and into bed.”

Jean didn’t resist as Rachel undressed her. She was wearing pastel pink bra and panties, skimpy and cute, not the sort of thing Rachel associated with mothers. She went to the dresser, finding a white, cotton one that she brought back to Jean.

Her mother now seemed more relaxed, almost smiling. “What was that?”

“How I felt in the womb. Lift your arms.” She moved to help Jean out of her bra, finding her breasts as high and firm as Rachel’s own. She couldn’t help but notice that when her hands brushed against one. She pulled the bra aside. “Well, not how I felt—but someone’s baby.”

“Teeping a baby?” Jean asked. “I wouldn’t even think of that… aren’t their thoughts too scattered?”

“They can be,” Rachel nodded. “You have to be sort of Zen about it. It’s hard to explain; you’ll figure it out.”

Jean stretched and yawned, her breasts trembling slightly with the motion. Rachel watched the jiggle run through them, her tongue unconsciously flicking out to anoint her lips, and it didn’t help when she closed her eyes because all she could see was Jean with Kitty, Kitty with Jean.

Rachel tried to recall how she’d thought of Jean before this absurdly young doppelganger of her had shown up in her life. Jean Grey-Summers had been bad enough, impossibly young, but at least maternal. This Jean was younger than her… even more inexperienced than Rachel had been when Kitty had befriended her, loved her. It almost felt good to know that Jean had the benefit of such a caring, considerate lover.

The shared memory was working, Jean’s face relaxing into a real smile. She put her hands on the low-riding waistband of her panties and pulled them down to step out of, one foot at a time.

“You’d better put on your nightie,” Rachel said, holding it out to her. She wished her mother would just hurry up and cover herself up again—

Jean took it, but just held it. “Who says I wear one?” Jean asked, giving Rachel a naughty smirk, as if she knew, as if she and Rachel and Kitty were all in some shared sin, the love that dare not speak its name, and the lessons that Kitty had learned with Rachel were now being taught to Jean…

“Mother—“ Rachel gasped, as if shocked, and took a giant step up to the woman. She buried her face in Jean’s neck, kissing the warm flesh, wanting to know what Kitty knew.

“Rachel!” Jean replied, startled, her body stiffening but not resisting.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, pulling away. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The nightie dropped down from Jean’s fingers, falling to the floor like a shed skin. Her mind wasn’t shut, but gloriously open, and Rachel could feel the pleasure radiating from Jean at having been touched, having been kissed. She threw one arm around Jean and embraced her, kissing her again as her other hand moved to Jean’s breast.

It was everything Rachel had thought it would be, but that was not all it was. She felt some of the same reassurance she had being held by Jean, the other Jean, even as she cupped this young girl’s breast and felt the nipple spring up erect into her palm. Her fingertips brushed over the flesh of the plump breast, finding it firm but yielding, and heaving harder the more she touched it. She heard a wistful sigh roll from Jean’s lips, and Rachel followed it to its source, kissing Jean until she couldn’t breathe. When they stopped kissing, Jean didn’t go far—Rachel felt her breath stroking her face, and opened her eyes to see Jean’s green ones filling up her vision.

“Rachel, I’m your mother.”

“In some possible future timeline?” Rachel smiled incredulously. “I didn’t grow up with white picket fences and a puppy dog, Jean. I’m not used to normal. But I want to make you feel good. I want to give you what Kitty won’t.”

She eased Jean down to the bed until her mother lay on her back, looking up, fingers nestling into the sheets at her side as she tried to figure out what to do. “Rachel…”

“I know what I’m doing,” Rachel said.

Rachel bowed her head, licking Jean’s nipples, both of them already warm and stiff, seeming to tremble with hardness after they were left gleaming with layers of saliva. Rachel opened her mouth more, trapping one nipple between her lips, and sucking it until its warmth felt like fire on the tip of her tongue. When it felt like it couldn’t be any harder, any hotter, she released it and went to its twin, licking and sucking, and tonguing until it seemed like Jean couldn’t take anymore, her mind a rush of pleasure and desire madly whirling together. 

Rachel got up, straddling Jean’s body, and covered her cleavage with her hands, squeezing and rubbing her fingers into the warm moistness that covered Jean’s areolas. It was enough to make Jean moan. 

“You need to relax,” Rachel said, kneading Jean’s breasts, playing with them from the fullness of their contours to the stiff tips of their nipples. “You need to be cared for. And who can love you better than me? You have such a lovely body, Mom. I can’t believe I get to come out of it one day…”

Her fingertips stroked from the rigidness of Jean’s ribs, barely tangible in her soft but slender body, down to the fringes of Jean’s pubic hair, damp, heated. Literally at her fingertips were Jean’s hotly pulsing blood, her singing nerves. Rachel lowered her head again and kissed Jean’s belly, just above the navel, then kissed a quick ring around the belly button before slotting her tongue into it.

“Oh!” Jean cried, as she felt for the first time how Rachel could enter her, and was helpless not to imagine how else that tongue could touch her.

Rachel grinned, feeling the thought pulse out of Jean, guilty and tinged with wickedness. She drifted downward, her tongue still out, gliding south to Jean’s groin, her cunt, its wetness. As she did, Rachel felt something touch her thigh through her skirt. It was Jean’s hand, inadvertently reminding her that she was still fully dressed. She kissed Jean’s lower belly before bounding off of her.

Standing over her mother, Rachel pulled off her sweater, then wiggled out of her skirt. Jean gaped at her, seeing that Rachel wasn’t wearing underwear, wasn’t wearing anything now. Rachel’s body was like a fantasy of what her own could be, muscular and curved and soft and hard, all in the right places. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Rachel replied out loud, pulling Jean bodily to the edge of the bed so that her legs were dangling off of it.

She knelt down beside the bed as if about to say her prayers, but the only thing she worshipped was between Jean’s legs. Her tongue dove down to the slit waiting so invitingly inside Jean’s ruby-red curls, grazing the labia, questing inside them, finding everything soft and warm and welcoming. Rachel smoothed her saliva along the folds of Jean’s sex, making it wetter still, and Jean twitched and twisted as Rachel took advantage of that lubrication to delve her tongue deeper in. 

Jean reached down beseechingly to Rachel’s head, holding it within her hands as Rachel obediently moved closer, licking at the clit on top of Jean’s womanhood instead of the opening in the middle of it. She could taste the beginnings of an orgasm between Jean’s clit and passage, sweet and decadent as chocolate on her tongue, and she felt the same honeyed dollops of sensation inside Jean’s head as her passion rose. She lapped at Jean’s clit, then stole playfully down to Jean’s cunt and snaked her tongue inside it, Jean twisting as if following the rhythm set by her daughter’s tongue.

The bed swayed and rocked below Jean like she was onboard a ship sailing through stormy waters, and Rachel was the storm. She kissed her mother’s sex, then raised her head to delight Jean’s ears the same way. “Use your powers!” She commanded the young woman and beseeched her mother. “Touch me with them—yes! Right there! Rub me there, squeeze me… just like you like it… I like it just like you like it… mommy… oh, we both love it like this!”

She was right, as much as it burned Jean’s ears. Jean instinctively knew the rhythm that Rachel wanted, and as she telekinetically played Rachel’s cunt like a piano, Rachel returned the favor. She spread Jean’s pussy and tongued her way up it, over it, into it. The clit was not as large as Kitty’s had been—that had to be fucking on easy mode, Rachel thought—but it was standing up enough for her purposes, and she suckled at it, tasted the ever-increasing flow of Jean’s arousal, put her finger into that river as if to dam it and only made it stronger.

“You taste so fucking good, mommy—this must be what Kitty tastes when she eats me—no wonder she fucks both of us—she just can’t get enough!”

Jean cried out in abject shame and a wicked enjoyment of that shame, cursing as Rachel used everything she had on her. Her fingers pried along the delicate lips of her pussy, wiggling inside for the occasional stroke that Jean was never ready for, while her tongue moved in and around her slit, licking into it for a good long time before breaking the rhythm to go to Jean’s clit just as it needed her most. Jean’s sex was becoming drenched, fragrant, throbbing, Rachel almost able to feel Jean’s ejaculation roiling inside her, ready to come out. 

She wanted to feel that honey rushing into her sucking mouth, to drag her tongue through that river coming out of Jean, to have Jean’s clit shivering and quaking between her teeth. She wanted to hear Jean scream, even more ashamed of herself and enjoying herself still more. She wanted herself and Jean and Kitty to all be equally guilty, all sharing the pleasure of this wrongness.

Jean’s pussy clenched around Rachel’s buried finger, ecstatic convulsions running all around it, and Rachel fastened her lips to Jean’s clit. In only a moment, Rachel felt the explosion whose fuse she had burned down so far. Jean’s warm honey bathed her face, Rachel drinking greedily as her tongue delved for more. As much as she loved Kitty, Kitty had never tasted as sweet as this, as sweet as home.

She hadn’t come herself, a fact that Rachel was all too aware of as Jean’s blissful cries filled the air. Rachel clamped her thighs tightly together, as if she could trap the psychic force that had suddenly stopped fondling her—Jean was too swept up in her own release to think of how horny Rachel was. But Rachel no longer needed Jean; closing her eyes, squeezing her legs together just right, she used her own telekinesis to touch her swollen mound just as Jean would. Then Jean did remember, telekinesis pressing firmly against her womanhood, the doubled sensation forcing a response from Rachel’s sex.

Rachel felt like she was flying as she came, just floating up into the air as light as a feather, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that it was true. Jean was lifting her up, holding her in the air, and then her face was wedged tightly between Rachel’s slender thighs, licking and sucking as if showing Rachel she’d learned everything her daughter had taught her. Maybe Rachel had another orgasm, or maybe the first just kept going, but she screamed as much as she gasped for breath, the whole world spinning. She had never thought it was possible to feel this way.

When she’d been wrung dry—and she really felt like that, like she’d gotten so wet that she just had to be wrung out by the force of her climax—Jean lowered her down to the bed. Rachel didn’t know if she was trembling because Jean’s control was shaky or because her own body didn’t know what to make of its sensations.

Jean managed to pull herself upright against the headboard, leaning against it with what little poise she could muster. She wildly sucked in air, trying to regain control of her breathing. Then she accepted the warm press of Rachel’s body against her own as her daughter wrapped herself around her midsection, head on her belly, hearing the slight noises of her stomach as if they were a song from her childhood.

“Do you mind if I call you Jean? It feels a bit weird to call you ‘Mom’ when I know what you taste like.”

“Oh, is that the weird part?” Jean pointed out, giving Rachel a very Kittyesque slap on the ass—partly for emphasis, partly to hear Rachel’s delighted squeal and its giggling afterglow. “Of course I don’t mind. I just had no idea you were so—that this—if someone had told me we’d do this, even this morning, I’d have thought they were crazy. And I’m a time traveler!”

“Like I’m not?” Rachel teased.

“I mean, you’re my age. Almost my age. And I thought of myself as an innocent little girl or something, but I guess I’m not. Neither of us are.”

Rachel grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever been an innocent little girl. But Kitty made me something better. I think I did that floating trick on her too.”

She giggled again as Jean shook her head in wonderment.