The smell of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air in a crowded cafe. Kaiit was playing overhead smooth, comfy beats – mingling with the chatter of the other patrons. Jordan snagged the last open table. A corner seat, too. A soft stream of light shone onto the wood table and a dominating, high-backed antique arm chair.

“Perfect.” she thought to herself.

At the counter she ordered a mocha.

“What’s the name?” the server asked.

“Jo, please. For here.”

Back at the table, she waited for her coffee, and stared at the open document on her laptop. ‘Exploring Sexual Fantasies’. Fantasies within fantasies, really, she thought to herself. People who get off on dreaming about magical creatures, alternate universes, alien invasions, if you would. She was halfway through this piece. Research done; she knew how she wanted to present it. Now she was just waiting for the writing flow to take over. Most of her work was on sexuality. She’d pitch topics to different publications. Sometimes getting assignments on what was trendy – people always want to talk about sex. Jordan would break it down so it’s informative and exploratory for readers. The work suited her. Kept her creativity alive and offered the challenge of making the topics accessible to her readers. She’d always been the independent type, entertained by her own imagination and passions.

When she’d first started professionally writing the topics had been pretty clear. Lay out the latest inclusive terminology. Share empowering mindsets and philosophies. Lately she’d been craving more from the work. Imagination, connection, experimentation. This topic offered the opportunity to deep dive into something new. As a shot in the dark, the piece had been approved on a draft basis from one of the smaller publications that was interested in taking risks. More than sharing with readers different fantasies people might enjoy, she wanted to talk about playfulness. Self-exploration, trust, and intention spiraled around her head.

After writing all morning, Jordan decided to get out. She was antsy. She usually loved working alone, but realized she hadn’t left her apartment in days. She yearned for some energy, and maybe something sweet to satisfy her restlessness. She’d put on a pair of vintage black high-waisted jeans. Hard to find sizes 16-18 at thrift stores, but she liked a treasure hunt. Her closest was filled with retro patterns. Silky velvets and slinky meshes sent calm throughout her when she’d run her fingertips across the hanging fabrics.

She’d almost put on a cropped 90s sweater, but had remembered how the large-knit thread could ride up easily. Hips and sometimes soft stomach seeing sunlight. Last time she’d worn it she’d noticed the side glances as she’d moved about her day. Sneaky looks pretending to be minding their own business. Saving her body for their own use later. She wasn’t in the mood to banish those looks and vibes from her space. Instead, she matched a corduroy, oversized sage colored button-up shirt with the jeans. Still funky, still comfy, still her. The pendant of the long necklace she always wore wasn’t visible as it fell behind the shirt, between her breasts. Her own personal totem. With a pair of discolored brown pull-on Chelsea boots, the outfit was complete and she was off.

Meandering around for a while, she studied crumbling stone cut outs decorating the older buildings. Leaves were unfurling as the warming early Spring air beckoned them open. Chirping birds overhead danced together. She hadn’t been paying attention to the street names when the cafe seemed to pop up from nowhere.

The door was held open for Jordan to step through. They both paused under the awning, naturally standing close together to avoid the rain. Jordan focused on the cracked blue and white tiles of the entrance. The interlacing triangles were a momentary distraction from the strangeness of the situation and her pounding heart. Those eyes met hers again. Almond shaped, almost black, but a gold glow made them a deep mahogany. The look took her in, sending prickles down her neck.

The rain picked up, pounding on the soft covering keeping them dry. Thunder rumbled nearby. Jordan was suddenly pushed forward by a gust of wind and slipped on the tile as she took a step to balance. From just the brief moment of falling outside the coverage of the awning, Jordan’s face was soaked. Drenched curls stuck to her tingling neck. Warmth rushed to her cheeks with the panic of slipping and now closeness of the touch.

In the same flash of the storm, the stranger pulled on Jordan’s coat catching her and inadvertently pulling her closer. The eyes searched Jordan’s to see if she had hurt anything in the stumble. One hand had held the lapel of Jordan’s coat, in a tight fist. The other had reached out to grab more of the cloth, landing just above the pocket. As the eyes searched Jordan’s for any pain, their body relaxed, but tension remained. Jordan’s whole body ached to revel in that strain. To feel the crest spread and grow before washing everything away.

“Thanks…” Jordan whispered breathlessly, close to the stranger’s face, to that golden gaze staring into hers.

Everything froze. The rain. The rush of adrenaline from slipping. Their breath. The rain was coming from all angles, there was no shield. Slowly releasing Jordan, they reached out.

“Come with me.” the stranger invited.

The outstretched hands glistened with dampness. Jordan’s fingertips connected with ones that looked exactly the same, but belonged to this other. Safety surrounded her. The stranger smiled, grasped Jordan and pulled her out from the entrance way of the cafe. They started running, occasionally passing figures hunched under umbrellas or newspapers rushing to get out of the wetness. Jordan could barely see a foot in-front of her. Nothing but the hand to guide.

The streets and buildings had been a shining blur. But she knew this door. Knew the cracks in the oval-shaped stained glass. The heavy brass door knob with etchings of leaves, each name plate and apartment number. The stranger let go of her hand to take out a key. The same one that Jordan had in her pocket.

“Mocha for Jo.” called a barista.

Jordan focused again on the room. Only one mug sat on the counter, swirls of dark chocolate marking it as the mocha she’d settle on to satisfy her craving. As she reached for it, another hand got there first.

“Uh, sorry, that’s mine.” Jordan said before looking at the face belonging to the hand.

Hit like a ton of bricks had nothing on this. Stunned. Her head was in a huge wave, the current pushing one way as Jordan tried to move against it. Big, round eyes with long lashes. Dark brown and golden warm. The power of the gaze was enhanced by a smokey make-up in grey and dark purple tones. She knew the glow. Recognized it from pictures. And, the mirror. It was one of her favorite things about herself – her eyes.

Then she saw the rest. Same height, same build, curvy and solid. Same rounded and soft facial features. The bouncing curls were the same, too, except Jordan’s were past her shoulders, free and natural dark brown. These ones were wrapped in loose high bun with bleach blond tips.

“Wow.” the voice attached to the identical body said, breathlessly.

“Holy shit.” replied Jordan.

She was looking at herself. Her face, her body, even her style, but a little bit edgier. Tight black, see-through, long-sleeve top. A bit of shimmer to the fabric, caught Jordan’s eye. It reminded her of the vintage mesh dress she’d worn to a New Year’s Eve party. Hanging in the closet ever since. Only a plain black bra protected the body from transparency of the cloth. The top showed off all the curves and softness of the stomach. Layers of necklaces decorating the collar. Oversized pants with a leopard print belt, rolled up at the cuffs showing off platform dark red boots. The smokey eye completed with deep cherry lips.

It was as if a full-body mirror was suddenly in the middle of the room. The reflection was her, but something was different, maybe more confident? No, Jordan was confident, someone who took care in how she talked to herself. She’d been through enough to know what she stood for. Not confident, but, more expressive, more emotionally raw.

“Uh, hey, I’m Jordan. This is wild.” she said, reaching out a hand.

The stranger reached out their hand in return, short nails, painted with dark blue polish compared to Jordan’s bare.

“Hey Jordan, it’s about to get weirder, I’m Jo.”

“Coffee okay?” A barista interrupted.

Jordan and Jo broke their handshake to turn to the server. Jordan glanced briefly at the barista and then back to Jo.

“Um, yeah, it’s great. Just one more mocha please.” Jordan said. “And if you could please bring it to the same table?” Jo nodded yes in response.

“I’m just over there.” Jordan said as she gestured to the corner. Jo followed.

“Here you take this one, I can wait.” Jo gestured.

It started to drizzle outside, pinging quietly against the window. The pair sat across from each other. Jordan in the armchair. Jo in a mixed-matched floral lounge chair with details carved into the woodwork. How hadn’t Jordan noticed that before? It was exactly the kind of chair she would have picked to sit in. Taking breaks from writing she would have run her fingers across the carvings to feel the bumpy story.

“Well, this is… bizarre.” Jo started.

“Unbelievable. I mean look at us!” In the darkening reflection of the window sat two identical people. Both had the same combination of confused and excited expressions on their faces. In the reflection their eyes met. The odd, déjà vu-like feeling Jordan had felt since first seeing Jo slipped away. The ocean’s current in her mind eased. They both laughed, sincerely, like old friends sharing a memory as they relaxed into their seats. The server brought the other coffee over.

“Take it easy now.” The server said to Jordan placing the mug down.

“Uh, yeah, you too, thanks.”

“So, there’s no way we’re related, right? Do you have siblings? Estranged cousins?” Jo inquired.

“No, I don’t think we could be. It’s just me, I’m from a small family. Parents didn’t have siblings, a few distant relatives but they’re all a lot older. What about you?”

“Huh. I have an older brother, a few cousins, but I know them all, and we don’t even look this much alike.” Jo joked.

Trying not to stare Jordan asked, “And, uh, are you from around here?”

“No, actually, just moved here a few weeks ago. We moved around a lot; my parents are academics that travel to different schools. Mostly grew up in Europe and South America. I’m trying to find the good neighborhood spots to hang out.” Jordan noted the slightly strange mix of accents as Jo spoke.

“Wow, I’m jealous. I love to travel, especially long-stays, enough time to connect with people.” Jordan responded immediately, feeling herself getting over the shock, somewhat. “I’ve been here for a few years now, but actually haven’t been to this cafe before. Did you enjoy growing up so nomadically?”

Jo leaned forward in their chair. Chains of necklaces swung forward with a jangle.

“I did, yeah. I’ve met so many people, learned a lot, picked up trades. For academics, my parents were pretty easy going about what I did with my time. I did some school, but mostly ran around. I work as an independent artist now, moved here to work on a mural restoration project. You know that old temple on 11th street? It was closed for a long time without tending. Full rehab will take maybe 10 months. Preservation is my specialty; antiques, repairs, that sort of thing. What about you?”

Jordan felt pulled to mirror Jo’s body language. Lost for a moment in the vibrational exchange that bounced between them. Something about Jo that made Jordan forget about anything else happening in the café. Their presence was magnetic. Jordan was surprised that other people in the cafe didn’t notice their energy, or at least their style.

“I’m a writer.” Jordan said, signaling to the laptop. “I came in today to finish a piece, actually.”

“Oh, yeah, what are you writing about?” Jo asked, crossing their legs. Perching an elbow on the table and resting chin in palm, focused on Jordan.

“Um, sure…” Jordan stammered, breaking out of the haze she’d felt herself falling into. Resisting the urge to lean forward like Jo. “This piece is about sexual fantasies. A little about common ones, but mostly people with vivid imaginations who enjoy magical eroticism. I want to make it more of a guide, too. How to play with fantasy.”

“Interesting…” Jo asked, leaning back in their chair, ruminating in the idea. Brown and gold curls dancing around the pink and orange flowers of the chair’s fabric. Arms hanging over the wings of the chair-open, comfortable, alluring. “So, what are your fantasies? If you want to say, of course.”

Jordan felt that pull again. A spinning sensation as she tried to navigate the comforting feeling of hugging an old friend with the restriction of speaking intimately with a stranger.

“Tenderness.” she replied, surprised at the ease in their conversation. Meeting Jo’s gaze, she continued, “Tenderness even in moments of unfiltered passion or desired pain.”

Jo didn’t move an inch but took all of Jordan in. “Tenderness.” they echoed. “Would you tell me more? What needs to be treated softly?”

Jordan brushed aside a strand of hair as a guise to lightly stroke her cheek. Not warm. You’re not blushing, she reassured herself.

“Uh, well, a lot really. So often I feel on display. Whether consensually or not. I like the idea of softness to explore, and room for it.” Taking direction from Jo’s inquisitive look she continued. “My body takes up space. More so than others. I’m thick and take up physical room, but also my energy wants to move about. I get noticed if I dress femme because my curves are sexualized. If I want to enjoy more masculine clothes or androgyny the world judges me even more. Sometimes attention can feel good, but only for the right reasons. Because someone appreciates my style or sees my energy. Often, it feels like people want to put me in a small space. Or they want to take a part of me. They have an image of a part of who I am and they want to be like that. Either way, it’s cold and distant. All of me deserves tenderness. Whatever gender representation I’m playing with. Whatever space I’m in. Whatever part of me is showing. I want a protected, open world for that.”

“And that’s imagination? Fantasies?”

Jordan could feel Jo listening. Their focus was intense, but soothing. Jordan got the feeling that Jo didn’t do anything they didn’t want to. To have their attention was validating.

“Imaginations offer a safe haven, you know? I can make the boundaries. There’s still so much consent involved, and therefore, intention. Creativity can rewrite an experience. Or design something completely new. And, I want to talk about this in the piece I’m writing, something about ‘asking to dream with yourself’. In a space with no rules and only your decisions – what could come out of encouragement? What could your dreams turn into if welcomed, who knows. Does this make sense?”

There was a hint of a twinkle in their eye. “Boundless pleasures, huh? I like the creativity. It’s kind of hard to imagine, but I guess that’s your point. Don’t question it so much.” Jordan nodded. “The idea is very queer. Not just from the way you talk about gender, but the flexibility of the whole thing. The exploration and safety.”

Jordan noticed that Jo’s posture echoed hers.

The sky had changed hues as their conversation grew. A steady rain fell. The sound of the drops hitting the roof acted as a buffer between their conversation and anything else happening in the café. They had talked for hours. Jordan looked up to see the rain, breaking the trance of their dialogue.

“Excuse me…” a server tapped Jordan lightly on the shoulder. “Just letting you know; we’re closing up in the next 10 minutes.”

“Oh, of course, thank you.”

***

Sheets of water washed over the streets. The wind howled and jostled them forwards. Shoulders didn’t hunch forward. Shivers didn’t slow them down. Their reflections were barely visible in the pools of rippling water that almost reached the curbs. Laughter and shouts weren’t audible through curtains of rain. They were in their own bubble. Running and dancing slippery shapes moved gracefully and unseen by anyone except each other.

***

“You live here?” Jordan asked, shocked. Fingers too numb from the cold to feel the detailed engravings of the leaves on the metal name plates.

Jo shook to move the hair out of their eyes. A bead of water running down their nose. “Yeah, top floor, moved in last month.”

“No way!” Jordan laughed in amazement. “I’m in 2B.”

Jo shared the laugh as the door clicked open and they stepped into the foyer. They extended their hand again. A stream of soft light from the lantern-style brass fixture illuminating their outline. Cheeks tingling from the sudden burst of heating coming from the radiator. Jo didn’t move, but waited for Jordan to meet them.

Jordan’s hand met Jo’s again. Fingertips brushing palms. Digits curling to wrap around wrists. Jordan stepped closer. One arm over, one arm under. Eyes, lips, lined up at exactly the same height. Jo’s hand cooled Jordan’s flushed cheek. Leaning in, they guided Jordan’s mouth closer. Lips met with the gentleness and slowness of bubbles spreading in a bathtub. Lightly pulsing lips widened. Caressing tongues sending stars to closed eyes. Bodies pressing together. The warmth of their mouths a stark difference to the damp and cold clothes.

The entwined arms slowly separated; lips gradually parted. Millimeters apart, the identical pairs of eyes softly contemplated each other. There was that pull again, hazy, enticing, all-encompassing. Jordan’s teeth chattered from the cold, momentarily breaking the spell.

“You’re shaking.” Jo said, interlacing their fingers with Jordan’s and turning to move up the stairs.

Jordan didn’t remember walking up the stairs, going through the doorway to the apartment, or being led into the bathroom. Coat, scarf, shoes, left a trail of drips. Jo had turned the shower on, steam beginning to fill the room within seconds. The two wordlessly removed their jackets, then boots, pants, and finally tops. Only Jordan’s long necklace remained, ending just below her full breasts with light brown nipples. Jo’s many chains twinkled as moisture filled the air. Long, thick legs matched each other, doughy middles under hourglass curves to each set of hips.

The couple stepped into the walk-in shower, warmth beckoning. Jo reached out to hold Jordan so that they both were under the hot, pounding water. The ocean in Jordan’s head was churning. Until they kissed again. Tender lips tasted sweet and wanting.

The spell of comfort, safety, and seduction was in full force. The water pounding away any coldness from muscles. Lust burst forth from somewhere deep and untouched. Jordan gasped as Jo kissed her neck, their hand grasping her hair. Other hand against Jordan’s breast. Thumb circularly massaging the nipple. Jordan leaned against the dark blue tile of the shower. Knees buckling now. Caught between the wall and Jo’s thigh. Supported and teased by the light pressing against her sex. Lips met again, tongues groping, Jo’s fingers felt Jordan’s wetness as her thighs parted.

“Wait.” Jo whispered. Leaving Jordan panting. Hungry.

They detached the shower head. Holding the stream of water away from Jordan on purpose, momentarily. Jordan’s nipples stiffened with a shiver. Moving the water from shoulder to chest to nipples to hips and thighs, Jo freely explored Jordan’s skin. As the shower head reached the top of Jordan’s thigh, Jo quickly yet smoothly whipped Jordan around. Jo had positioned them against the wall with Jordan. Jordan ground her ass against Jo as their hand navigated Jo’s hip. Jo kissed Jordan’s shoulders as they continued to control the rush of water against Jordan’s thigh, guiding her legs open.

The spray of the water licked Jordan’s throbbing clit. Jo moved the shower headed closer and farther as they caressed her breasts, brushing their lips on her neck. With each wave of pleasure and warmth Jordan’s back arched. Skin fluttered. Head spun. Ass pressed more against Jo’s labia. They both breathed heavy. Soft moans grew from Jo as Jordan’s breath quickened and chest rapidly heaved, pushing her breast against their cupped hand. Jordan ran her palm across Jo’s pelvis. The intentional hand guided Jo’s center to expand, exposing their moistness. Jordan’s fingers delicately outlined Jo’s lips and clit. Jordan felt the glow of Jo’s pleasure grow as she increased the pulse of her touch. Unwrapping their arms from Jordan, Jo left Jordan against the dripping wall as they replaced the shower head. Jo wrapped Jordan in the towel before stepping out to find another.

Jordan patted herself dry and folded the towel snugly around herself. Nipples were still hard, almost showing through the thick material. Stepping out of the shower, Jordan saw Jo shake their curls in a towel before tying it around their waist. Jo smiled at Jordan, striding towards her. Jordan’s eyes fluttered as she double looked at what almost looked like pinkish sparks jumping and dancing over Jo’s skin. That magnetism pulled at her again, refreshing the manic-like spinning sensation. Jordan guided Jo’s mouth as Jo grabbed at hips and ass to create a wave between them. In a surge of their kiss, Jo swooped Jordan up. The towel still wrapped around Jordan, legs wrapped around Jo, they floated into the bedroom. Jo lowered Jordan to her feet in front of the bed, covered with grey pinstripe sheets and a blue duvet.

Kissing Jordan’s neck, Jo asked in a low voice, “Do you desire pain?”

Jordan bit her lip, tilting her neck to Jo’s caress. Her arms fell to her side.

“Yes.” she murmured. “Please.”

“Turn around.” Jo whispered into Jordan’s ear.

Jo’s lips followed Jordan’s movement, traveling from neck to back of shoulder. Their arms enveloped Jordan’s to wrap fingers around wrists. Jo leaned against Jordan, encouraging her to bend towards the bed. Jo opened Jordan’s hands and placed them on the bed. Jo stepped back to take in the pose. Jordan’s hands tense in anticipation on the bed propped up the towel-covered body. Curvaceous legs bare, awaiting to be touched. The towel just hid Jordan’s cheeks and lips. Jordan’s breath was shallow. Attention on the desire and ache she felt, becoming almost unbearable.

The tips of Jo’s fingers lightly cascaded over the back of Jordan’s thighs. Tips turned into fingers turned into whole palms. Sensations of pressure ran up and down Jordan. Her ass moved higher in eagerness, revealing shadows of rounded cheeks. Still slowly, Jo moved up, taking the towel in their hand to lift it. The first hit was gentle, but firm enough to curl Jordan’s fingers. Next, quick and drumming hands touched every part. Jordan’s ass jiggled. Then a strike that was solid and fast-Jordan felt herself clench and release in joyous response.

Smack, smack, smack! Jordan’s face was pushed into the bed, deep exhales of bliss punctuated each spank. The towel crumbled around her middle. Breasts almost spilled out against the bumpy texture of the duvet. Legs had spread wide open. Feet still on the floor. Knees against the bed. She was dripping.

“Yes…” she breathed, clenching the sheets, actively waiting. Her hips floated from side-to-side, longingly.

Clawing the back of Jordan’s thigh, Jo moaned “I need you now.”

Jo flipped Jordan onto her back. Jordan’s legs over their shoulders, they licked Jordan’s cunt in one long stroke. Jordan grabbed Jo’s hair as they kissed up and down her inner thighs. She bit her bottom lip as tingles ran across it. They traced Jordan’s labia with their lips, stopping and exploring where Jordan shuddered. Their hard tongue found the pulse of Jordan’s clit. Jo’s middle finger slowly whirled and pressed against her soaked cunt. Jordan’s revolving hips summoned Jo’s fingers inside of her.

In. Out. Gyrating. Extracting and giving.

“Touch yourself.” Jordan directed.

Jo looked into Jordan’s eyes as they licked their fingers. Moving them down to their center, Jo returned to the taste of Jordan. With her middle and index fingers she found her clit already swollen. Thighs quaked in euphoria. All she could hear was Jo’s breath. Synced with her own – rhythms in time. Both bodies’ brilliance expanded as the intensity came to a rupture. A rainbow of lights leapt behind closed eyes, leaping and flickering. Nothing left to feel except home.

Both released their breath and muscles. The beat of their bodies still faintly humming delight back and forth. Soundlessly, Jo kissed Jordan’s leg gently, meeting her on the bed. With one finger they drew a line from the top of Jordan’s forehead, down to her softly shivering belly button, across her stomach. Jordan rolled over as to let the finger continue its horizontal path to her lower back. Jo marked the end of the finger’s trail with another kiss. From beside the bed Jo grabbed a bottle of lotion. Gently, they massaged Jordan’s lower back and the marks on her ass. Swirls of smoothness played across Jordan as she dozed off.

She felt the sun across her through the window before her eyes opened. Warm and refreshed her eyes fluttered open. Pale yellow curtains, followed onto white and blue floral sheets. Jordan was alone, in her bed, in her apartment.

Was it a dream? she thought to herself, running her hand along her naked body, looking for memories, fingering the chain around her neck. “Must have been…but…no, no, just a dream.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Toes met something soft. Two towels on the floor. Hand unsteady, she picked them up and one silver chain fell to the floor with a jangle.