in Istanbul recommended by one of Shelley’s fraternity pals’ older brothers. After that, they had no set agenda. They’d go where they wanted to go, and stay until they were ready to come home. Jo hoped it wouldn’t be for months, maybe even as long as a year. The world wouldn’t look twice at two young women, recent college graduates and best friends, traveling together. She and Shelley could share a room, even a bed, without arousing anyone’s suspicion, and if someone did get suspicious they could pack up and move on to another city, even another country. Jo planned to try to do some travel writing—she had made a list of magazines, with names of editors to whom she could submit pieces. She figured that she could make money teaching English, in a pinch, and if even that didn’t work out, she could wash dishes or clean houses, doing whatever it took to keep them afloat.
“I know we have a plan,” Shelley said, sitting back on her heels, pouting adorably. She wore Jo’s extra-large U of M T-shirt, which fell down past her knees, with nothing on underneath it, and her long, dark hair was still disheveled from sleep. “Only now I’m wondering if it’s selfish. I mean, aren’t we just indulging ourselves, when we should be using our college educations to help people?”
“How about this,” Jo said. “When we come back from our trip, if you still want to join the Peace Corps, I will seriously consider it.”
“Oh, you’ll seriously consider it,” Shelley said, widening her eyes and deepening her voice as she repeated Jo’s words. Jo opened her mouth, preparing to argue again in favor of their trip, as Shelley snuggled up beside her, kissing her cheek and her nose. It was hot outside, a sunny July day, the temperature already in the seventies, but the thick green leaves of the oak trees that lined the street formed a canopy over the house. Looking out the bedroom windows, all Jo could see was green, with sunshine filtering through, and she could hear cars and voices, but they sounded very far away. It was as if she and Shelley were in their own private tree house, the two of them alone together in their own sunny, summertime cocoon.
“I will,” said Jo. “But first, we are going to the Grand Bazaar and the hammams in Istanbul.” She flipped Shelley onto her back and bit her—not gently—on her neck. Shelley squealed, and sighed, spreading out her arms and legs, unfurling underneath her like a flower. “And then, we are going to the ruins of Ephesus.” Jo sucked gently at a spot underneath Shelley’s ear, loving the way Shelley wriggled underneath her. “We are going hiking in Cappadocia, and we are going to see the whirling dervishes in Konya.”
“Whirling dervishes.” Shelley sounded slightly breathless.
“Then we’re going to India.” Jo kissed her way down Shelley’s neck and chest, taking Shelley’s teacup breasts in her hands. “We’ll go to an ashram in Udipalya and learn yoga. We’ll take a bus to the beaches in Goa and sit on the sand in the sun.” Jo kept kissing until Shelley gripped her head, trying to push her down, but Jo would not let herself be pushed. She stopped and sat up, leaning back on her heels. Shelley whined, groping for Jo’s hands, and Jo let Shelley hold them but would not let Shelley pull her down.
“And then what?” she prompted.
“No fair,” Shelley panted.
With one fingertip, Jo stroked a line from the sweet indentation of Shelley’s navel, down through the silky black curls, and pressed the pad of her finger against the kernel of pink flesh. Shelley writhed, gasping. “What next?” Jo asked.
“The Village!” Shelley said. Jo rewarded her by moving her finger, very slightly, up and down. “We’ll have an apartment . . . and we’ll live in the Village . . . and I’ll act in plays, and you’ll write for magazines, and you’ll learn how to cook, and I’ll have a window seat so I can watch all the people, and we’ll go dancing . . . oh,” she sighed as finally Jo bent her head toward Shelley’s sweetness and gave her lovely girl what she wanted. It wasn’t fair, she thought. But if sex was what it took to get Shelley to agree with Jo’s plans, to get her to admit that Jo was who she wanted, Jo would use sex. She would be ruthless, if ruthlessness was what was required.
When it