One moment, Brooke was falling into unconsciousness while Montana kissed her on the mouth and touched her in places where Brooke normally wouldn't have expected to be touched.
The next...
"Well, was it good for you too, Major Hottie?" Brooke heard Montana ask.
Brooke opened her eyes to see Montana looking down upon her with a smile on her face and said, "I beg your pardon?"
"Was it good for you too? I said," said Montana. "The dream, I mean. I had no idea what you were dreaming about but it seemed like a heck of a dream from here."
"But you were in my dream," said Brooke.
"Well, that's a nice thing for you to say, Major Hottie, but seriously, what was it about?" asked Montana. "I mean, one minute you're putting on sunscreen, the next you close your eyes and start moaning. And what you did with your hands... I didn't think you were that type of girl but now that I know better..."
"But it wasn't a dream," said Brooke. "It was you. You put on my sunscreen. You rubbed me all over. You made me moan."
"Well, if you rather not answer my question, just say so, Major Hottie," said Montana. "For what it's worth, I think you're nice too but I didn't think you swung that way."
"No, you don't understand," said Brooke. "I'm not gay. I'm --"
And then she paused.
If she wasn't gay, why had she liked Montana's kiss so much? Why had she welcomed the touch of Montana's fingers? Why did she yearn for more of Montana's finger work even now?
Brooke glanced up at Montana's face and started to say something.
Then she thought, what if Montana is right? Suppose all that was just in my imagination? Does that mean I'm attracted to Montana? Heaven knows she likes to flirt with me but does she seriously expect me to flirt back? Suppose she's just teasing me. Suppose I make a fool out of myself by making a big speech about my feelings for her, and she just sneers at me and laughs in my face. It's embarrassing enough just to be naked in front of her and the other girls. But to deliberately compound my embarrassment on top of that...
Brooke turned around and spied the hat that Montana had brought her lying on the dock besides her. As she reached for it, she imagined Montana reaching around behind her and grabbing one of her breasts. Then she would pull Brooke backwards and kiss her on the mouth while again reaching for --
No. She had no time for those kind of fantasies.
She turned to tell Montana that but Montana was no longer there. Instead she was walking away from the dock. And Brooke, God help her, couldn't help watching her every step of the way.
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