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The Wrong Entertainment

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It isn't right, Kate's sure. In fact, she's sure that it's a fairly high magnitude of wrong.

She opened her home to Maggie so that she could recover from some harrowing events, so that she'd have some time away from all the people and places that were causing her such distress. It was meant to be a safe haven for her.

Not a place where she'd be lusted after. Watched, gazed upon in secret, dirty moments.

Kate feels like a heel, entertaining thoughts of her houseguest, her friend whose gone through so much of late. She feels like a stalker, stealing glimpses of her as she moves through the lounge to watch a film, as she walks up the hallway, as she reads in the back garden, long legs crossed, her skirt lifting over the curve of her knee, showing so little but so much, all at once.

But now, lying in bed, she can't stop herself from thinking about Maggie. Sweet, soft Maggie. Soft Maggie with her ivory skin, her raven hair. Maggie with the quiet, tinkling laugh that sounds like music. Maggie with a million wonderful stories, each more captivating than the last. Maggie with the soft blush that creeps up her cheeks when she indulges in a second glass of wine, and doesn't abate for the rest of the evening.

Maggie wore that blush as they parted company in the hall, bidding one another good night, disappearing behind closed doors. Is she still blushing? What is she doing? Is she reading in bed? Watching television? What is she wearing?

Is there any garment good enough to be permitted to cover her skin, or is she bare, slid between the soft cotton sheets, like Kate is?

Is she thinking of me? Kate wonders. Could she be imagining what it would be like to take my hand, to kiss my lips, the way I imagine touching and kissing her?

Of course not, how could you even think so? Kate chides herself, her eyes shut tight, as if to keep out the negative thoughts that settle, the guilt. She's not like you. You don't even know if she likes women. Pervert.

Kate's hand slides between her thighs.

Pervert.

She sighs.

The sound that echoes softly around her room is Maggie's name.