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pinkie. His hand clenched on my breast, sending an electric current through me. He moaned. I looked down at his dear face, so open, so vulnerable. I knew he was close. He was right on the precipice, this close to orgasm, in complete control. We were so connected that the closer he got, the closer I got.
    Could Coach Debbie tell?
    “Now, now, now!” Benson gurgled, curling around us, almost into the fetal position, almost sliding off our laps. “Holy shit !”
    “Did you like that, Benson?” whispered Coach Debbie.
    “ God , yes.”
    “What do you think, Leah? Did he like it?”
    “I’d say he liked it. Yeah.”
    “Benson.”
    He gazed up at her, eyes straining to focus. He blinked.
    “What should we do for our little Leah?”
    He took a deep breath. “Well… she has this thing she likes…”
    My heart quickened. What thing? What thing? I liked a lot of things!
    “Go on,” said Coach Debbie.
    “Tell her to pull down her shorts.”
    She kissed me. “Pull down your shorts, Leah.”
    The people at the far end of the path, the crowds on the other side of the hedges and trees—they faded to nothing. Besides, who was I, an exhibitionist by trade,to object to sex in public? I tugged my shorts down, slid my buttocks toward the edge of the bench, almost tipping poor Benson off my lap.
    I was already wet.
    “Now tell her to spread her legs…”
    She kissed me again, with tongue. “Spread your legs,” she said wetly.
    Trembling, I did.
    “Go on, Benson—tell me what I should do to her,” said Coach Debbie, “Should I couple with our little Leah? Should I fuck her?”
    He gazed up at me. “No. Not yet.”
    Bastard!
    He considered. “Hmm. Tell Leah to touch herself,” he said finally. “Tell her to dip her finger in her cunt. Tell her to swish it around and get it dripping wet—then tell her to roll her hot little clit under her finger.”
    Coach Debbie nibbled on my lip. “Do what he said. Do it now.”
    I rushed to obey. I arched my back, caressing my hot little clit. I moaned.
    “Now tell her to suck your tit.”
    “You heard him,” Coach Debbie said in a throaty voice, lifting her shirt.
    I found her nipple and latched on, sucking for dear life, diddling myself.
    “Now tell her to find your hand.”
    I found her hand.
    “Now make her guide your hand to her pussy. Yes, Like that. Now make her shove two—no, three!—of your fingers inside of her!”
    Coach Debbie leaned in to me, my hand on hers, her probing fingers touching me, entering me, feeling my interior landscape. They inched their way toward my most tender spots, pushing their way in—at my prompting, at my direction—to the places that made me writhe in ecstasy.
    She kissed me again, hard.
    My mouth fell off her breast. I pressed her hand into me as deeply as I could.
    “Oh! Oh! Oh…!” I moaned.
    I tilted my face toward the sky and lifted my hips off the bench as wave after orgasmic wave rolled over me. A solitary bird—a crow perhaps—flew across my field of vision. My eyes tracked its voyage from one tree to another as her beautiful fingers danced inside me.
    The best orgasm ever. I swear.
    Well, the best orgasm ever on a public bench while using someone else’s hand.
    I let out the breath I’d been holding, almost a whistle. The world was right again. I was whole again. I slumped over, resting on Coach Debbie. Sweet Coach Debbie. Now I really liked her. Really, really liked her. I smiled a secret little smile hidden in her shoulder.
    Benson laughed softly. “What do you think, Debbie? Did our little Leah like that?”
    “I believe she liked it just fine, Benson.” Coach Debbie touched me deep inside, her fingers moving in me, a delicious farewell. Then slowly, tenderly, she withdrew her hand and rested it on my belly, my hand still on top of hers.
    “Just fine?” I sputtered. “Are you insane? That was…unreal!”
    Benson gave my breast a friendly pat. “Of course it was. We’re pros.”
    I grinned.
    Benson grinned