Though Helena wanted to sleep, Bette wanted to talk. Peggy Peabody was a curiosity to her.

"How did you and your mother fall out…?" Bette asked curiously.  

"Babe?…" Bette tried asking again. "how did you and your mother lose touch?" 

Helena sighed, trying to sleep. Bette was propped on one elbow just behind her, staring down. Helena remembered their latest promise to one another, to communicate better, and put aside her need for sleep.

“She cut me off.” Helena replied. “I went from having everything to having nothing overnight.” She turned to look up at Bette, playing with the hair that hung down and tickled her shoulder. “I know it sounds stupid—poor little rich girl—but I seriously had nothing. And I’d made enough enemies that I had no where to turn for help.”

“Is that when you decided to strip?” Bette asked plainly.

“Bette Porter!” Helena exclaimed, in a mock angry tone. “I did not strip, first of all, I was a go-go dancer. We’ve covered that!—there’s a difference. And secondly, isn’t it unfeminist to question the choices we make as women…”

But she’d lost Bette to the only thing Bette liked more than a good political debate.

“Darling, come up from there!” Helena hissed, looking down as Bette trailed warm kisses down her belly and hips.

Bette crawled back up, a wicked gleam in her eye. She glanced over to where Caiohme lay in a small makeshift bed of her own. “No.” she whispered to Helena. “You come…”

“Silly woman.” Helena sighed. “Bad puns…oh…oh dear…” She bit down hard on her clenched hand as Bette’s mouth covered her mound, her tongue sliding luxuriously across Helena’s clit. Within seconds, Helena was wet enough for Bette to slide two fingers inside of her. She bucked her hips slightly, arching her back as Bette coaxed her toward warm, swollen arousal. “Bette…mmph…” Helena tried to whisper but nearly cried out instead. “I thought we were supposed to communicate verbally.” She finally gasped.

“Sorry baby.” Bette moved back up again, stilling her hand inside of Helena and kissing her soundly. Helena could taste herself on Bette’s mouth and groaned quietly. “You were saying? I’m sorry.” She apologized. “I just want you so badly…but go on, if you like?”