I looked up from my laptop and watched as the most beautiful creature that had ever graced the Earth walked from the bathroom to my bedroom. She was wearing my pink bath robe and probably nothing else. Apparently, she'd had a hard day. She called me from the bar needing a ride because she'd had one too many drinks. Prosecuting sex crimes is especially taxing. Though she obtained more convictions than most, there are still many more cases lost than won. Sometimes alcohol takes away the pain. I worry that she drinks too much, but this doesn't happen that often.

She walked to the fire place wearing the only cotton pajama set I own. It figures that she would find it. My preference is silk. I tried to convince her of its superiority, but it's hard to win an argument with a woman who has a degree in arguing, even if I do have one of my own. I even talked Trevor, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, into buying her a silk nightgown last year. I helped him choose just the right one- sapphire, formfitting, ankle-length with a slit up to the hip. For all of my conniving, I have never seen her in it and from what I understand, she's only worn it once. I'm sure she's strikingly beautiful in it. She's beautiful in everything she wears, even my cotton pajamas that cover just about every inch of her.

"Where's Andrew?" she asked.

"Out."

"Doing what?" her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at me.

'Doing whom?' would be the more correct question, but not a viable response. "I'm not sure, but he will be gone all weekend." I gave my best smile.

"How do you stand it?" she stalked to the other side of me with her arms crossed and then plopped herself next to me on the sofa. She tucked her legs underneath her and then turned her body to face me. "I don't like the way he treats you. If I had known it would be like this, I wouldn't have introduced you to him."

I realized at that moment why I married him. I did it to be near her. I was in love with her from the moment I saw her years ago. I was certain that she was gay, but I wasn't about to be the one to tell her. We were roommates for seven years and not once did I tell her how I felt nor did she give any indication that she was willing to go that way. When she told me that her brother was interested in me, I thought, 'how bad could it be?' She would always be near her family, so we wouldn't have a chance to be separated and she told me, knowing my history, that he would be good to me. And she was right. "Alexandra, he's a good man."

"But he cheats on you."

"It's okay. It doesn't bother me." Truth was that he and I didn't have a sexual relationship. I had tried, but there was just too much damage done to my body. I told him I wanted to wait until marriage, so on our honeymoon, we discovered that I was incapable of having sex. It was just too painful. I offered him an annulment, but he refused. I explained that it was unfair to him that I couldn't fulfill my part as wife to him and he showed his heart and explained that it was unfair to me that I had been hurt so badly. We made a deal and kept it our secret. She was shaking her head about to speak when I interrupted. "Don't worry, I can live with it. Our marriage is happier than most. I get what I need and he gets what he needs."

"I don't like it. I just don't like it." She went quiet, deep in thought. I went back to my typing.

She inched closer to me. So close that I could feel her breath on my neck. I glanced at her sideways.

"I love you." It was almost a whisper.

I tapped her on the hand and said, "I know."

"No. I mean," she hesitated, "I love you."

I folded my computer and placed it on the coffee table and turned to look at her. I really couldn't think of anything to say. Imagine that, a lawyer speechless. She leaned in and kissed me gently. Her lips were as soft as I had always imagined. I felt her tongue part my lips and I tasted her.....and wine. Though she had brushed her teeth, I could still taste it. I pushed her back. "You've had a lot to drink."

"It's been two hours since my last drink. I know what I'm doing." She leaned into me and I leaned back against the arm of the sofa. She positioned herself on her knees with one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on the arm. She was an inch from my face. "Tell me to stop and I will."

I couldn't speak. I had dreamed of this for so long that I just couldn't say, 'no.' She started to kiss me tentatively, then more and more passionately, but never rough. I was too preoccupied with the feel of her lips that I didn't notice that she had unbuttoned my shirt until she pulled me forward to remove it. I hesitated and pulled away from her lips and grabbed her hands. The last time someone other than a doctor saw my body, I was called a freak. My husband hasn't even seen me nude. I couldn't bear being turned away again, especially by her.

I've seen Alexandra be quite harsh, but then she has always been patient and understanding with me. I remember when I trashed our apartment. We were still in college. I had just flown home to attend the trial of my rapists, those boys who decided to teach me a lesson because I was a lesbian. It had been over three years since my rape and the trial had just been pushed back yet another year. I held my composure in the court room, but the flight back to New York was torturous. I had plenty of time to think about how those boys were attending frat parties when I was relearning how to walk. And then the DA focused all of his resources on the war on drugs and the mayor was quoted "I don't understand the big deal about rape. If a woman can't stop it, why doesn't she just lay back and enjoy it." By the time I made it to our apartment, I was engulfed in rage. She found me in a corner crying uncontrollably with the apartment in shambles. She held me all night while I slept there in the floor. I told her about the rape, but I left out all the details. No one should have to carry that burden. She noticed then the scars on my arms from defensive wounds, but there are so many more.

I now looked into her eyes and knew that I needn't worry. I removed my hands and helped her remove my shirt and bra. She didn't even seem to notice my scars as she kissed my neck and then down to my breasts. She took her time as she moved. It was as though she didn't want any part of me unkissed. She paid special attention to my scars. I had no idea they were so sensitive. It felt so good. I hadn't felt this way in years. She undid my pants as she kissed down my stomach. I felt no need to stop her. She removed my pants and found that I wasn't wearing any underwear. She grinned the way she does right before she attacks someone on the stand and said, "that is sooo sexy."

She kissed me on the mouth and then went back to my lower abdomen, kissing and teasing. She spread my legs apart and kissed my inner thighs. I was lost in pleasure, what I was feeling and what I was seeing. She lowered her mouth and kissed and licked around my opening and then spread my lips with her tongue and found my clitoris. I was surprised to discover that I still had feeling there and it was so good. She had definitely done this before. Moans escaped my mouth and my breathing became more and more ragged.

She slid a finger into me and then she stopped. Her body stiffened. I froze. I think I even stopped breathing. I looked up towards the sofa arm. I couldn't look at her. I didn't want to see her face. She was feeling around inside of me. I could barely feel it, but I knew what she was doing by her reaction. She was feeling my scars. There were so many. The boys thought it would be funny to shove a beer bottle into me. They kicked it afterwards and it broke. It should have killed me, but it didn't. It took many surgeries to remove the glass and reconstruct my vagina. It won't stretch, at least not like it's supposed to do. The doctors were able to make my outside look "normal," but they couldn't fix me on the inside. I had, in effect, been castrated.

Alexandra touched my arm with her free hand and she began kissing the big scar on my stomach, the one that curves around my belly button. She slid her finger out of me and found my clitoris again with it. She made her way up my body and my neck as she massaged my clitoris. I was still looking away. I realized that I was crying. She raised herself above me and looked me in the eyes.

"Hey," she said softly, "I love you."

I raised up and we kissed until my chest tightened and my body bowed in ecstasy. She remained kissing me until I stopped convulsing.

She reached behind her and pulled the throw blanket over us. She turned me sideways and settled in behind me. She caressed my body and kissed along some of the scars on my back for a long while before she wrapped her arms tightly around me. She slept and I laid there shedding tears.....tears of joy, tears of hope, tears of healing.