Soft, exploring, arousing kisses turned to hard, heated passion and Shannon couldn’t get Caroline’s clothes off fast enough. The need

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to feel Caroline’s skin on hers was unbearable. Giving up, she simply pushed Caroline’s shirt up and latched her mouth to exposed breasts.

Caroline grabbed her head and pulled her closer and moaned when she took her nipple into her mouth. “Yes,” she said on the trailing end of a sigh. Shannon gave the other breast equal attention and soon Caroline was arching her hips in the universal signal for touch.

Shannon slipped her hand into the waistband of her shorts and down the familiar path to the warmth that awaited her. It was her turn to moan this time when her fingers easily slid into the waiting flesh.

Caroline was an exquisite lover, wet and inviting, always ready for her.

She rocked against the pressure of Shannon’s hand and Shannon almost lost control.

It drove Shannon crazy when Caroline took control of her own pleasure. There was just something about the way she moved, seeking the pressure she wanted, the touch she desired, the release she needed that often took Shannon over the edge. This time was no different and when she felt Caroline’s clit grow hard and start to twitch under her fingers she pulled her tighter. Caroline rocked and bucked against her as her fingers worked their magic for both of them.

Caroline straddled her lap, arms wrapped around her neck, her back to the door. Shannon’s mouth feasted on Caroline’s breasts and they both were completely oblivious to the audience standing in the now open doorway as they came together.

A gasp that was not theirs caused Caroline to raise her head.

Shannon felt the movement, but it was the sudden freezing of the body on top of her that got her attention. She released Caroline’s nipple and blinked several times to regain her focus. When Caroline still had not moved, Shannon turned her head to see what had her attention. With her fingers still deep inside Caroline and her breathing ragged, she looked into the stern eyes of the Dean of Mount Holyfield Academy. Standing next to her was Caroline’s father, his face beet red with rage.

v

The scene was every lesbian’s nightmare. Between the shouting, recriminations, shock, embarrassment, anger, and a good dose of absolute terror, Caroline and Shannon were somehow able to pull

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themselves together, straighten their clothes, and stand to face the two people that were now judge and jury. And judge them they did.

“Get out,” were the only words Caroline’s father said. His tone was quiet and menacing with barely controlled furor.

“Mr. Davis, I can explain—” Shannon began.

“I don’t need an explanation, young lady. I saw what was going on. What you were doing to my daughter.”

“Daddy, Shannon was—”

“I know what Shannon was doing,” he snapped.

Shannon stepped forward trying to make her point. “Mr. Davis, I—” Steven Davis stepped forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. Shannon was either too stupid or too brave to back away.

“You had your hands on my daughter. Your filthy hands were—”

“Daddy, stop it,” Caroline shouted cutting through the tension hanging in the air. “Shannon wasn’t doing anything to me that I didn’t want her to. This isn’t the way I wanted you to find out, but this is who I am. I’m a lesbian and I was a lesbian long before Shannon came into my life.”

“Get her out of here before I kill her,” Davis said to no one specific.

It was Dean Phillips who jumped at the command.

“Ms. Roberts, go to your room and wait for me.” Her tone was as frightening in its simplicity as Caroline’s father’s had been.

The next few days were a complete blur for Shannon. Her roommate was reassigned, she was forbidden to leave her room, and her parents were called. She was allowed to take her final exams in the library away from the other students and as soon as she was finished, forced to leave the campus. She had not been allowed to see or speak with Caroline before she left.

She tried to stand up for Caroline but couldn’t. Didn’t she need to defend Caroline? It wasn’t Caroline’s fault. Shannon had started it all the day in the locker room. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Her parents shipped her off to Switzerland for the summer with strict instructions to not contact Caroline. They were not quite as shocked as Steven Davis, but then again they didn’t walk in and see another girl’s fingers up their daughter’s snatch.

She tried to call Caroline several times, but the line was always

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picked up by her parents. Mutual friends passed on information, and once or twice Shannon was able to get through but only to Caroline’s voicemail. They talked once or twice, but it was awkward. They never regained the natural ease they had with each other before her father walked in. Shannon did what she thought was best and left her alone.

That was ten years, ten months, and a few odd days ago. But it seemed like yesterday.

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ChaPTER Six

Ladies and gentlemen, next up, riding for Bellow is number twenty-five, Caroline Davis.”

The voice over the loudspeaker was practically drowned out by the cheers of the crowd around her. Caroline inched toward the starting line readying herself for the descent down one of Canada’s most majestic and dangerous mountains. She tugged at her helmet, adjusted her elbow pads, tightened the Velcro on her riding gloves, and took a deep breath.

Focus, said the voice in her head. You can do this. It’s a simple course you’ve been down half a dozen times already. You know where the turns are, the rocks, that one stump across the road about halfway down, the tight hairpin turn just before the long stretch to the finish line.

It’s just another race, like all the other races before.

Caroline repeated the mantra while the announcer finished reciting her stats, wins, and hometown. The red light was steady as the timer next to it counted down. When it got to fifteen, she rolled within centimeters of the infrared start line. At ten, she clipped her left shoe into the pedal. At five, she flexed her fingers over the brakes. Three, two, one. She shot out.

The first twenty yards were smooth and she pedaled hard, picking up speed. The trail veered sharply to the left and she navigated the change smoothly, picking up more speed on the flat downhill surface before the next obstacle. She flew up and down hills, over sharp rocks and boulders big enough to be trouble but small enough to be in the middle of the trail.

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With her shoes clipped to her pedals, she was able to use both the downward motion of her legs as well as the upward for speed, jumps, and to maintain control. The only danger was that if she fell, she needed to twist her foot just right to release it or suffer a severe injury.

No, not now. Please not now. The familiar tightening of her chest, shortness of breath, the overwhelming need to flee unexpectedly washed over Caroline. She had no clue it was coming until it was right on top of her and there was little she could do to stop it.

It was the last thing she needed right now. She hadn’t had a panic attack for months. They started the first time she was back on her bike after her devastating injury. At first, she didn’t know what was going on. All she knew was that it scared the hell out of her. She felt like she was having a heart attack. Her legs were weak, her breathing much faster than normal. Her heart was racing, her throat dry. She couldn’t get off her bike fast enough, and it was all she could do to get away.

She confided in her father what had happened and he accompanied Caroline to her doctor. After a battery of other tests, she was diagnosed with panic attacks and referred to a psychologist who was better equipped to help her deal with what was described as a form of posttraumatic stress syndrome. After a few sessions with Dr. Blackstone, Caroline had learned how to deal with the attacks through a series of calming techniques. She began them now.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she shifted her weight over her legs, jumping over a dip in the trail that would send a less experienced rider flying over the handlebars causing certain injury. The bike hit the ground, and between the shocks on the front and rear of her bike as well as the powerful muscles in her legs acting like springs, she hardly felt the return to earth.

She expertly conquered the twists and turns of the course gaining speed when she could, backing off when she had to. It seemed like only seconds before she saw the finish line to her left. The hairpin curve she was worried about was to her left. She braked going into the bend, her rear wheel skidding almost out from under her as she maneuvered through the tight turn. Cheers erupted when she emerged and she pedaled hard through the finish line.

Caroline skidded to a stop and looked over her shoulder at her time displayed on the Omega board. This was the first of the qualifying

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rounds. Each round consisted of two timed events, with the fastest racers moving on to the next round until only the final ten remained.

The final round was three races, the combined time resulting in the winner of that leg of the championship. In addition to the blue jersey, the winner received fifteen points. Ten points went to the rider who finished second, five for third, and three for fourth. At the end of the race series, the rider with the highest number of points was declared the overall champion.