You adjourn to the bedroom.

When Amber’s eyes are able to focus again, she looks at you with adoration and wonder. “My life is so different than it was yesterday. It’s not just that I’m getting the best sex of my life—but ohh, the sex!” You smile as an incongruity strikes you. Normally, Amber is averse to swearing. She thinks it’s ugly, and so you’d rarely if ever heard her use that kind of language—but when you’re having sex, suddenly it seems like every other word is some variant of “fuck”! Not for the first time, you reflect that people are walking bundles of contradictions.

“Is it just because I love you so much, or are you really that good?” Amber asks.

“Some of both,” you answer. “Honestly, probably more of the former than the latter. I’ve never thought of myself as a contender for the Sexual Olympics.”

Amber giggles at the image.

“I’m sure there are things I’m doing that aren’t the way you would normally prefer,” you continue. “But right now, just the fact that I’m finally yours has you so turned on, I can do no wrong. That will fade; but I’ll learn your body better and learn better how to please you, and that will make up for it. No one’s great at sex by themselves, after all—it’s a cooperative effort.”

You lower Amber’s legs and help her sit up, then give her a long, languid, satisfying kiss. When you come up for air, you walk over and grab the coffee for her. You give it to her and say, “It’s a little colder than it was supposed to be.”

Amber laughs and says, “I’ll take the trade.” She takes a long swallow, then jumps down from the table. “It’s still warm enough. Why don’t we move where we can cuddle properly?”

You both decide to leave your clothes where they are, but Amber takes the dishtowel and tosses it in the laundry as the two of you head upstairs to her bedroom. You sit up against the headboard; she leans against you and you hold her as she finishes her drink.

You start to tell her about your encounter with her mother at the coffee shop, and she looks at you in disbelief. “What was she thinking?” Amber asks. Since you haven’t come up with an answer to that question, you shake your head and say nothing.

Before she can say anything else, her phone pings. Startled, the two of you look over at it; in the notification, you can see the line, “Isn’t this your mom?” You groan a little, intuitively sure of what’s coming. Amber looks at you, puzzled, then grabs her phone and opens the notification. Sure enough, a friend has sent her a link—someone recorded your collision with April and posted it online. The whole thing is there, so obviously someone else in the coffee shop saw it coming.

When you hear your voice say, “I know you took it hard when I broke up with you, but you need to let it go and move on,” Amber bursts out laughing so hard, she has to set the phone down on her leg. You look at the screen and see it lingering on April. You see her sit down—and take out her phone to make a call. With that, the video cuts off. “I wonder who she called?” you ask under your breath.

That catches Amber’s attention. She gets her laughter under control and asks, “What did you say?”

“The end of the video shows your mom making a call,” you tell her. “I’m just wondering who she called.”

Amber pauses for a moment to consider the question. “I’m not going to assume she was trying to make trouble for you,” she says at length, “but we have to allow for the possibility. Still, she can’t hurt your business, neither of us has done anything illegal, I’m not breaking any school rules, and we haven’t done anything we’re ashamed of; so I’m going to assume that whatever she tries, she can’t do us any real harm. I have you, and you have me, and nothing she can do is going to change that, right?”

You think you detect a trace of uncertainty—her question isn’t quite purely rhetorical. Still, you know you have no secrets to keep from Amber, and you’re quite sure she has none from you, so you smile and say, “Right.” Then you kiss her.

Amber kisses you back, hard, then breaks off to say breathlessly, “As long as you keep kissing me like that, I don’t care what my mother does.” She kisses you again, then takes the last swallow of her coffee, sets the empty cup on her nightstand, and slides down in bed. She draws you down with her and snuggles up against you, spooned. Softly, she says, “I’m sorry you had to deal with her.”

You kiss her ear, making her purr in pleasure, then say, “It’s OK. Just before I ran into her, I was thinking how much better off I am now than I was a week ago. There’s all the inconvenience of finding a new place to live, but everything else is better. She rejected me, but you’ve erased that.” You kiss her on the neck and continue, “I’m in a new relationship with a woman I’ve loved, respected, and enjoyed spending time with for years.” Amber blushes with pleasure. You kiss her neck some more and say, “Plus, what guy has ever complained about moving on to a new girlfriend who’s younger, hotter, and hornier?”

Amber’s blush deepens. She turns her head to kiss you back and responds, “You always know the right thing to say.” She rubs her ass against you and coos in pleasure to feel how long and hard you’ve gotten. “Up for another round?” she asks in a sultry voice.