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pull away and didn’t want to. At some point, her own hands
found Flora’s waist.
    She could feel Flora moving to the music. Beneath the mingled aromas of floral
perfumes, fruity drinks, and musty whiffs of pheromones from different species,
Rye smelled a faint, elusive scent like pine sap. It made her want to press
close to Flora, to touch her and to inhale deeply the smell of her skin. Rye
felt drunk, and not only from the alcohol she’d swallowed.
    Flora ran her hands up Rye’s arms. Their bodies almost touched.
    “Let’s go back to my place,” Flora said.
    When they stepped out into the parking lot, the cool night air slapped Rye in
the face. If anything, it made her head spin worse. She closely followed Flora
to the flying carpet.
    Flora slotted her mobile into the ignition but turned to Rye without starting
the engine. Her hand burned the side of Rye’s face. No power in all of Infinity
could have stopped Rye from twisting around to kiss her. The first passionate
kiss Rye received in years, soft and warm and probing, hit her like a bolt of
pure magic.
    “Oh, Elm,” Flora whispered. “I’ve needed to do that since I saw you in that
bathroom.”
    Their kisses merged their mouths. Hot, wet, hungry. Their tongues writhed
together, deeper, stronger. Beneath Flora’s musky perfume, Rye again smelled
that tantalising scent like pine sap. It seemed to be the essence of Flora. Rye
couldn’t inhale it deeply enough. Her hands clutched at Flora, needing to touch
all of her. Her flesh felt more than alive where Flora’s body pressed against
her. Rye shifted to maximise their contact all along her length. She slipped off
the seat and ended up kneeling in the foot space.
    Flora giggled. Rye felt stupid.
    “It had to happen to one of us, didn’t it?” Flora said.
    Rye wished it hadn’t been her. Flora pulled her close and ran her hand through
Rye’s hair. For that look in her eyes, Rye would’ve fallen off a hundred seats.
    “I was in danger of thinking you too good to be true,” Flora said in a husky
whisper. “At least now I know that you and this is real.”
    Rye kissed her and finally touched the warm, smooth skin of her naked thigh.
Flora threw her head back to moan. Rye kissed Flora’s throat and worked her lips
down the salty skin to the bosom lifted close to her mouth. To her astonishment,
Flora’s breasts had firmed. Rye clasped her wildly erotic discovery. The dryad’s
chest hardened to the texture of wood. Through the silky fabric of Flora’s
dress, Rye’s lips squeezed and teased nut-hard nipples. Flora moaned and dug her
fingers into Rye’s hair. Rye’s wing buds twitched against the restraint of her
tight T-shirt and drew the cloth even tauter against Rye’s aching nipples. The
insanely sensitive spot below the base of Rye’s neck, between the top of her
wings, throbbed in counterpoint with the matching one between her legs. Flora’s
leg slid up to Rye’s hip. Rye knelt on the seat with one leg and thrust her hand
up Flora’s dress. Her fingers found damp panties.
    “Oh, fey,” Rye whispered.
    Flora’s hips moved into Rye’s touch even as Flora slid down in her seat. Rye’s
fingers worked beneath the lacy panties. She found pubic hair that felt soft and
springy like warm moss. Flora groaned and she clutched at Rye’s hair and
shoulders as she writhed to the rhythm of Rye’s fingers. Rye’s wing buds
strained against the restraint of her T-shirt as her wings tried to unfold with
her arousal.
    “Oh, Elm,” Flora panted. “Oh, Holy Elm.”
    Need drove Rye’s fingers harder and deeper into slippery flesh. Even though Rye
was maddeningly aware of the tangy smell of Flora’s arousal, it did not fully
swamp out that thin trace of pine sap which seemed to have infused her brain and
every excited nerve and fibre. Flora groaned with rising pitch toward her
climax. As she jerked with her release, her blindly clutching fingers hit the
hotly throbbing lump high on Rye’s back. Rye