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“He’s my sexual white whale.”

Upon hearing Zazie’s statement – uttered definitively like a proclamation as only Zazie could – Krysten rolled her eyes. “So let me guess. That makes you Captain Ahab?” 

“A very, very horny Ahab,” Zazie agreed, shifting so she could dangle her feet out the window. The ride to Camp Ardenne was one of her favorite parts of the summer, rife with fresh air and possibilities, and she wanted to enjoy every single minute. Taking in a lungful of said fresh air, Zazie looked over at her best friend, driving the pickup truck with one arm hanging out the window. “What about you? Who’s your white whale?”

Krysten shot a glance at Zazie. “We haven’t all been obsessing over the same person since last summer, desperate to hook up. Some of us are in this camp thing to help encourage the youth and get credit for our MFA programs.” Zazie gave her a look. “Okay, fine. Foster.” 

“F-bomb,” Zazie said, referring to the name the teenage campers had given the very pretty improv coach. “Niiiiiiice. Look at you grin.”

Krysten switched hands on the wheel so she could swat Zazie’s arm. “Shut up. She doesn’t even know I’m alive.” She raised an eyebrow at Zazie. “Much like you and Aubrey.” The wind whipped Krysten’s long dark hair out behind her, and expertly driving with her knees, she pulled the elastic from around her wrist and fashioned an effortlessly messy topknot. “Or should I call him Moby Dick?”

Aubrey and Zazie were slated to be co-drama instructors this summer. Last year, however, they’d barely crossed paths. Until the last night of camp, where the instructors put on a showcase for the campers. Aubrey performed a monologue, and Zazie could remember very little of it except for one word: “conviviality.” It wasn’t one you heard every day, but coming from Aubrey’s beautiful mouth, in his perfect baritone voice, it was positively stunning. Not to mention sexy. And right then, he looked at her, sitting in the audience. Their eyes met and Zazie felt something. Conviviality. She’d thought about that word all year, the man who uttered it.

And she loved a challenge.

“I’ll make you a bet,” Zazie said, fluffing out her natural hair – big and expressive, just like her. She stood out in any room, on every stage, which (along with her nonstop work ethic) had landed her a scholarship to one of the most prestigious acting programs in the country, and the coveted two-summer counselor fellowship at Ardenne. “First one of us to get laid has to give the other fifty bucks.” They were graduate students – fifty dollars wasn’t exactly chump change.

“Now that’s romantic.” But Krysten’s naturally red lips quirked up in a smile as she said this, which Zazie knew meant her roommate of almost two years was thinking. “Seventy-five and the loser’s on garbage duty for a week.” Now the stakes were high: camp-wide food refuse was no joke, not to mention what seemed like millions of tissues and empty Jergens bottles from the high school boys’ cabins.

“Done.” They bumped fists, and Zazie grinned, feeling the wind tickle her red-painted toenails. “Hmmm,” she mused.

“What’s up?”

“Wondering what I’m going to do with my seventy-five.”

There he was.

The star of almost every sex dream she’d had since last August (with the exception of a few starring her scene partner in Shakespeare intensive this semester, a stunning redhead with gorgeous breasts. Hey, Zazie didn’t discriminate). 

Aubrey. The Chekhov and Ibsen fanatic who all the kids called The Tallest Man in the World because of his six-six stature. And every inch was glorious. Half-Latino on his mom’s side – she’d overheard him telling Foster at last year’s ice cream social – he still had the short dark hair and close-cut beard. Zazie bit her lip as she jumped out of the pickup, imagining that beard brushing the insides of her thighs.

Maybe tonight…

It wasn’t too far beyond the realm of possibility. Camp Ardenne, as Zazie had learned last summer, was known primarily for two things. For the campers, it was a chance to act, sing and dance at one of the country’s most acclaimed summer institutions for the performing arts, whose long list of stellar and successful alumni justified the steep price.

And for the counselors, the frequent and high-quality after-hours sex.

There was something about this place: the lush campgrounds, the insanely beautiful sunsets, pink streaked with purple streaked with gold, the smells of flowers growing and the world’s best pancakes on Saturday mornings. Camp Ardenne was magic, and for generations had lent itself to a record amount of hookups. Former counselors – including a very high-profile celeb couple – even got married and had kids, who’d they’d eventually send as campers themselves. But if you weren’t the relationship kind – as Zazie most definitely was not – you could find yourself in any of your colleague’s beds, having the fuck of your life, as long as you were back at your post by sunrise and Reveille.


She snapped out of her reverie at a voice like dark chocolate, rich and smooth and something she’d have the pleasure of listening to all summer. The same voice that drove her wild when it said conviviality.

Aubrey was now standing next to her, smelling like pine trees and sunshine. Zazie’s knees went weak, which had literally never happened to her before. If she wasn’t careful, she’d collapse like a Shakespearean heroine on the cusp of madness.

“Heyyyy,” she said, trying to keep her voice low and sexy, not high and squeaky the way it got when she was nervous. “Co-classics nerd.” She attempted a friendly punch on the arm, but when he winced she suspected she’d gone a little hard. Damn you, kickboxing classes.

“Uh, I was going to hug you,” he said, looking down sheepishly at his TOMS.

Fuck. “Uhhhhh,” Zazie said, fumbling for her words. “Go right ahead!” And she threw her arms open like a giant dork. Even by theater camp standards.

But once Aubrey swept her up in his arms, Zazie forgot her own name, her bet with Krysten, and Ardenne itself.

This man knew how to hug.

His arms were strong around her, squeezing just enough to make her feel protected and safe, but not enough to overwhelm her. She could feel the muscles in his chest, his powerful shoulders, the ripples in his back. Zazie was used to bear hugs – she was a theater person, after all – but Aubrey’s embrace was in another league, on another level. She felt like she was floating, before she realized that the Tallest Man in the World had, in fact, lifted her off her feet.


And then he set her down and the moment was over.

“I was thinking,” Aubrey said, completely unaware he’d just nearly made her come with a fucking hug, “we should go over the curriculum before the campers get here in two days.” 

Zazie said nothing, still recovering. He waved a hand in front of her face. “Zazie?” Her name sounded sweet in his mouth. 

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah, of course.” You’re getting smoother by the minute, Z. “My cabin? Tonight?” She tried batting her eyes – hey, it worked when she played the coquette Jaquenetta in Love’s Labors Lost.

Aubrey looked at her curiously. “Something in your eye?”

She sighed. “No.”

He smiled – he wasn’t a grinner, but more of a slow-burner. Zazie knew she’d have to earn that smile this summer, and as always, she was willing to work. “Sounds great,” Aubrey said. “See you after dinner.”

And with that, he was gone and Zazie was going to need her vibrator right quick.

Of course, in the rush of cabin assignments, unpacking and catching up with fellow counselors she hadn’t seen in almost a year while eating the cafeteria’s standard beige cuisine at dinner, Zazie’s vibrator remained in her underwear drawer, hidden away from curious campers. (She had the seventh-graders this year and she was not about to have that talk with them.) And as a result, she was more worked up than ever and now she had to focus on classical texts and pedagogy with the sexiest man at camp.

“Knock knock,” intoned a deep voice, rapping on her doorframe. Speak of the handsome devil, whose T-shirt was just tight enough to be interesting and looked so soft.

Ooh. Aubrey’s head barely cleared the doorway. He had an intense presence – Zazie knew he’d spent his spring doing Ibsen, and his focused gaze and stunning look were well-suited to the playwright. Besides wanting to fuck him, she was just excited to teach with the guy.

“Come on in,” she managed to squeak. Real cool, Z.

“Nice place you got here,” Aubrey said, looking around at the empty bunk beds and bare walls.

“It’s just like everyone else’s.”

A corner of his mouth turned up. “I was joking.” He nodded toward where she was sitting, her single bed with bright purple sheets. “May I?”

Oh god we’re going to sit on my bed how do I NOT jump him Dionysus protect me, wait Dionysus would want us to fuck so that’s not a good example…

Zazie realized Aubrey was standing there, still in the doorway, waiting for her answer. “Oh! Sure,” she said. She beckoned him in, afraid if she got up to let him in her unlocked door she’d grab on to his delicious self and never let go (only with his consent, of course). Normally, Zazie took what she wanted, but something about Aubrey made her shy. Unsettled. And she liked the feeling.

He came in and gestured to her bed, a questioning look in his deep brown eyes. Not that there was anywhere else to sit, but Aubrey’s politeness made Zazie appreciate him even more. She’d always been a sucker for manners. She nodded and he perched on the edge of the bed. Such a gentleman. She wished for just a second he’d be rude, anything less than perfect.

“So,” he said, “I made copies of the syllabus in the office for both of us.” He reached across the bed, where she was sitting propped against the headboard. When Aubrey handed her the sheet, their fingers brushed. Zazie really didn’t know how she was going to get through the next hour.

Apparently Dionysus was listening, though, because as they went through the plans for the classical drama intensive – starting with movement and voice exercises and scene studies, then culminating in auditions, rehearsals and a production of Chekhov’s Three Sisters, one of Zazie’s favorites – she was able to focus on the work she absolutely loved. Pointing out adjustments and critiques here and there, she was impressed by Aubrey’s passion, the way he listened to every word she said with a thoughtful focus, never once mansplaining. Zazie almost forgot about how badly she wanted to ride him until he blew.


“I need to use the bathroom,” he said, heading toward the doorway next to her bed. 

Once she was sure he wasn’t looking, Zazie swiveled around and checked out how well his ass filled out those khaki shorts.

And she had an idea.

Knowing she’d have to work fast – and since she could still smell pine needles and sunshine, it wouldn’t take long – she snaked two fingers up her thigh and reached under her shorts, shoving aside her pink lace panties. As an extra precaution, Zazie slid down behind the headboard, until she was lying flat.

There it is. She found her clit, already stiff with want, the talk of classical playwrights almost as much an aphrodisiac as the man she was discussing them with. (She and the redhead used to recite Shakespeare soliloquies to one another before going at it like bunnies too.) 

Flicking her clit with her fingers, Zazie bit down a moan – her voice carried, so she had to be careful – before beginning to rub in earnest. She closed her eyes, imagining her fingers were Aubrey’s tongue, making slow and gentle circles before eating her out in earnest, sliding his long fingers inside of her and playing her G-spot like a violin…

“Uh, Zazie?”


With her pants down.


I want to die.

“Don’t die,” Aubrey said and Zazie realized she’d spoken that last part out loud. “I’ve seen a woman touch herself before.” 

“I’m,” Zazie said, panting and wiping her fingers on her sheets, her face burning. “So sorry, Aubrey.”

Still standing by her bed, he gave her that slow grin. Was there a bit of naughtiness in his eyes, or was she just torqued up? “Ardenne, right? It gets to us all.”

Grabbing her pillow, Zazie pulled it over her face and screamed. Eight weeks. She had eight weeks with the guy who’d walked in on her masturbating to him. Krysten was never going to let her live it down.

Wait, what was that on her ankle?

Lifting up the pillow, she saw Aubrey sitting on the edge of her bed. Stroking her ankle with one finger, the small touch sending shivers straight up to the headboard. Oh, fuck.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, warm brown eyes meeting hers.

“It’s more than okay,” she breathed, unable to tear her gaze away. And before she lost her nerve, Zazie sat up and peeled off her tank top, revealing what she knew were spectacular breasts in a lace bra. “You can come up here if you want,” she whispered. “Aubrey?”

This time he was dumbfounded, and she realized he was staring right at her tits. Taking that as a yes, Zazie crawled to the edge of the bed and pulled him to her.

And it was on.

Their first kiss was magical, and normally Zazie didn’t think that way, but how else could she describe how soft Aubrey’s lips were, softer than his beard, his tongue tentative at first, then slowly growing more confident as it tangled with hers? His touch was light but sure as he played with her breasts before unfastening her bra with one hand (impressive!). Running her hands up and down his muscular back as she savored his mouth, Zazie felt a freedom she hadn’t in months, as well as conflicting urges to savor every moment and strip him down and fuck him silly.

She’d compromise.

Pulling his T-shirt over his head, she lunged for his mouth again, feeling the light dusting of hair at flat stomach under her palms. “Oh Zazie,” he groaned in her mouth, before pulling back and looking into her eyes, touching his forehead to hers. “Do you know how long I’ve had a thing for you?”

This was news.

Zazie bit her lip, which now tasted of Aubrey, and grinned up at him. “How long?”

“Oh I dunno,” he said, moving down to her neck, her favorite spot to be kissed. “The first day of camp last year?”

Hell yeah!

“Then,” Zazie said, massaging his neck and hearing his appreciative groan fill the cabin, “let’s make up for lost time.”

He reached down and before she knew it, her shorts were off and she was rubbing against his long, thick erection, her panties soaking wet. 

“I’ll eat you out all night, I promise,” Aubrey said as she reached down to stroke him through his shorts, “but can I please be inside you right now?”

She pulled him to her for a long kiss, hungry and satisfied at the same time, then replied, nipping his earlobe, “Condoms in the top drawer.”

He came back in a jiffy, this beautiful man with a golden voice wearing only his shorts, bearing not only the box of condoms but –

“Oh yesssss,” Zazie hissed, seeing her Hitachi Magic Wand in Aubrey’s big hands. Arching her back, she inched her fingers toward her clit and began to touch herself again, anticipating the pleasure she was about to receive.

“Don’t come yet,” Aubrey said, voice authoritative, bending over to plug in the toy. Even in shorts, that ass was spectacular. “You’ll make me blow right here and now.”

“Whatever you say, daddy.” She raised an eyebrow and he collapsed on top of her, pulling off his shorts and boxers with such ferocity she marveled that he didn’t rip them.

They could have leisurely sex later. For now, this was all about pure want. Sliding the pillow underneath her naked ass, Zazie opened her legs and looked up at him, ready.

“Oh fuck,” she murmured as he slid inside her. His cock felt magnificent, not so huge it hurt, but big and thick enough to announce its presence thoroughly. “Big hands,” Zazie giggled, and Aubrey laughed too. 

“I’ve heard that before,” he rumbled in her ear.

He began to move, slowly at first, then gradually going faster, licking her neck, then tonguing her breasts with his beautiful mouth, his beard soft and scruffy. She ran her hands through his short hair, moaning so loudly she knew Krysten would hear her next door and give her shit tomorrow morning. Screw it, she was getting fucked well and she wanted all the staff to know.

“Oh god, I’m close,” Zazie murmured.

And Aubrey stopped, slid out of her.

She looked at him, worried she’d said something wrong, but then she realized what he was reaching for.

“The first of many,” he said, turning on the Hitachi. “Let’s make it good for you.”

This time, he shoved his cock inside her roughly and she was so wet and ready, so open for him, Zazie welcomed the intrusion. “You’re so hard,” she moaned. Even the buzzing sound of the Hitachi was turning her on. 

Using one hand for balance, Aubrey murmured, “hang on to the headboard.” She did as he told her, opening her legs wider to accommodate his size, then tightening them around his slim waist. As Aubrey thrust hard and deep, he touched the buzzing Hitachi to her greedy clit and Zazie knew she was there. “Oh god, fuckmefuckmefuckme,” she cried, bucking her hips to meet every one of his thrusts. An overpowering wave of desire and endorphins rushed through her whole body as the Hitachi worked its magic on her clit and Aubrey took care of her pussy. His beautiful eyes were pinned on her with adoration as Zazie held on to the headboard for dear life, her mouth open in a perfect O, singing the first orgasm of the summer.

“By the way,” he murmured in her ear. “Conviviality.”

Lauren Emily lives (and loves) in Chicago, and is the author of the novel SATELLITE.