“So,” I said to the tall, dark-haired girl sitting beside me on the bed. “What’s the big deal?”

Alana just grinned and shushed me, a mischievous look flashing in her green eyes. Some people have said she has an ‘angelic glow’, but I’ve known her long enough to understand that it’s actually more of a ‘devilish aura’. Alana might be my friend, but she’s gotten me into more scrapes than all of my enemies put together. Not that I have many enemies at the ripe old age of fourteen.

“Alana? Emma?” Mrs. Harding’s voice called to us from downstairs. “I’m heading out now, so behave yourselves! I’ll be back before you know it.” Alana rolled her eyes at me. Neither of them bothered saying goodbye to one another. No surprise there. She doesn’t get along with her mom. I don't know why — Mrs. Harding is pretty great, for an adult.

I stretched my shoulders, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror mounted on Alana’s wall. Short and stocky, with messy blonde pigtails and a sparse spattering of freckles, plus a mouth that gets too wide when I smile.

Alana’s tall and slender, but has worse posture, so we were almost the same height sitting beside each other on the edge of her bed.

I folded my hands in the lap of my soccer shorts as we listened to the sound of Mrs. Harding’s footsteps on the front porch. They were sharp and clackety, so I knew she was probably wearing the black high-heeled boots that my mom had given her last Christmas. She says they’re her favorites.

The car came to life and pulled out of the driveway. As the engine faded away down the street, I almost wished that it would reverse its course and come back. Being alone with Alana without adult supervision could be a recipe for disaster. But I was curious about what she had to show me that couldn’t wait until the weekend. Whatever it is, I thought, it had better be worth it.

After what felt like another five minutes, Alana finally bounced to her feet. “It’s time,” she squealed in a high-pitched voice that reminded me of someone about to spring out at a surprise birthday party.

She hurried into the hallway. I followed at a slower pace, checking around suspiciously for any signs of streamers, balloons, or —god forbid— clowns. My birthday was still months away, but better safe than sorry. You never knew with Alana.

She paused outside her mother’s door, shooting me that trademark grin of hers.

“Wow,” I said, rolling my eyes this time. “A door. So glad I left soccer practice early for this.”

Before I knew it, she had me by my sweatshirt, giggling as she dragged me into Mrs. Harding’s bedroom. I might be more sporty, but since she’s taller and her nails are sharper, I figured resistance wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“What exactly is so funny?” I asked, happily settling into my comfortable role as the serious one. Alana’s four months older than me, a fact I hate to be reminded of since I’m obviously the more mature of us — at least emotionally. I folded my arms across the team logo on my chest and scowled around the room, being careful not to meet her gaze lest I start laughing too.

There was a writing desk beneath a small round window with a bookshelf standing beside it. A big bed sat against the far wall, neatly made, with a small wooden dresser to its left. No water balloons, puddles of super glue, or any other obvious signs of trickery. I relaxed a little.

Alana must’ve been tired of waiting for me to get it on my own. “Look!” she screeched, pointing to the dresser beside the bed.

“Looks pretty ordinary to me.”

“Then look closer, Em,” Alana urged, motioning me forward. She settled herself down on the bed and watched, her smirk never fading.

Sighing, I moved closer and let my eyes examine the furniture piece. Dark, grainy wood. Three rectangular drawers with little white ivory handles. On top, an empty glass and a picture frame with a photo of Alana’s mom hugging Alana’s dad, who hopped a train out of town years ago. I was about to tell her I gave up when I spotted it — something suspicious!

Most of it was hidden behind the picture frame, which is why I hadn’t noticed at first. A white object that looked kind of like a microphone, with a smooth handle and a rounded ball for a head. I reached for it and held it up, waving it in front of Alana’s face.

“This thing?” I barked. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“Neither did I,” she responded. “Until I caught my mom using it last night.” Something about her tone made me stop waving the thing around.

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

She tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Do you really wanna know?”

“Duh,” I practically yelled.

“Okay, okay,” Alana laughed. “Sit down and I’ll tell you. It all began last night, a little after midnight.”

“Nothing good happens after midnight,” I broke in with a waggle of my finger. She hates it when I act grown-up like that. “And technically, it began this morning if it happened after midnight.”

She waved my helpful interruption away and went on. “I was getting up to use the bathroom when I heard her. Moaning.”

My eyebrows almost shot off my face. “Moaning? Like— a zombie?”

Alana chuckled, shook her head. “More like— when a lovesick heroine faints in one of those ancient black and white movies. Like this!” She demonstrated, producing a low moan that still sounded more like the undead to me.

“So what’d you do?” I asked, hating every second of being held in suspense by her.

“I snuck over to her door, obviously,” Alana answered. “It wasn’t latched, so I gave it a teeny tiny push—” here she mimed pushing the door ajar, “and opened it a crack. Just enough for a peek.”

I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out in a slow whoosh. This was silly; I knew Mrs. Harding was fine. Heck, she’d just let me into the house like thirty minutes ago.

“So I peeked in,” she continued, looking up at me from her seat on the bed. “And you’ll never believe what I saw.”

“You’ll never believe the pain I will inflict if you don’t get on with it.”

“That—” she said quickly, sticking her index finger at the white thing, which I had let drop onto the bed. “She was using it. That’s what was making her moan like crazy.”

I stared down at it, dubious. “What do you mean? How was she using it?”

Alana regarded me with an appraising look. “You’ll think it’s weird.”

“Yeah, probably,” I said. “Tell me anyway.”

“Here,” she said, reaching for the mysterious object. “It’s easier to show you.”

Even I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. As I watched, wide-eyed, Alana held the thing in her left hand and moved it down so it was hanging in the air just above her lap. Then she proceeded to move it around like she was stirring cookie dough, tracing the air above her crotch with the rounded rubber head.

“There?” I said in disbelief, sinking down on the bed beside her. I looked into her face, searching for a hint of humor, expecting to hear the punchline of a joke.

Alana just nodded, and I could tell she was serious. All the usual mischievousness was suddenly missing from her eyes.

“But,” I said, trying to inject some sense into this strange story. “Why?” Was it a medical device meant to treat some rare underlying health condition? I’d heard my mother say that age does certain things to your body, like when your period dries up or your teeth start falling out.

I tried to picture Mrs. Harding lying in bed, moving that thing around like Alana had done. I couldn’t see it.

Alana flicked her eyes over at me, then down to her bare toes digging into the carpet. “Maybe it just feels good.” She said it kinda fast. “Like when you touch yourself. Down there.”

My eyes boggled. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” she insisted, leaning forward.

“Of course I don’t,” I said sharply.

She reached out and poked me in the shoulder. “Then why did I wake up at our sleepover last week and see you with your hands down your pants?”

“You didn’t,” I yelped, reeling back. “I wasn’t—”

“Emma,” she said, sounding like a preschool teacher trying to soothe a tantrum-throwing toddler. “It’s okay. Everyone does it.”

I swung wildly at her.

She ducked, laughing. Her voice lowered conspiratorially, “I do it.”

“You were probably just — dreaming or something,” I huffed, picking at a loose thread in the creamy-colored comforter. I really hadn’t been doing what she thought. But the Harding’s house is always cold in the mornings, so I slid my hands inside my pajama bottoms to warm them up. That was all.

Although I wasn’t completely clueless about what she was implying. I knew that doing certain things made me feel certain things. Down there. Like laying directly underneath the bath faucet on full blast or straddling my big purple pillow and pretending it was a wild bronco trying to buck me off. And there was that one time in the locker room after soccer practice...

My cheeks burned. Eager for a distraction, I snatched up the thing that had started all this nonsense. I sneered, “Don’t see how this could make anyone moan like that.” It was less than a foot long and made of smooth white rubbery plastic. The head was sort of flexible, so when I shook the handle around it wobbled a little on its own.

Then I saw something I hadn’t noticed before: a few small words printed near the bottom of the base. And above them, a button, inset into the handle.

“All I know is it did,” Alana was saying. “She kept at it for a while. I stayed there, spying. When she finally finished, she held the button to turn it off, and—”

“Oh?” I broke in. “You mean this button? The one you definitely wouldn’t have been able to see from the door?” She recoiled. I had her now. “Do the words ‘Mini Magic Wand’ mean anything to you?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. “Okay, so I came back this morning after she’d left for work to snoop around.”

I gulped. There was a question bouncing around in my head, and before I knew it, it bounced right out of my mouth.

“Did you try it?”

The words seemed to hang in the air between us.

She wagged her head hard, dark hair twisting to and fro, as if to shake the suspicion off her.

“Why not?” Alana wasn’t the type to wait around. By the time she’d told me about the faulty vending machine in the cafeteria, she had already emptied out all the good stuff. By the time I’d asked her to be my friend back in middle school, she had already come over to my house. Twice.

She exhaled and gave a sort of half-shrug. “I dunno.”

“Scared,” I snickered. “That’s why you had to invite me, because you were too scared to find out what it does by yourself. Mini Magic Wand,” I scoffed. “Sounds like a toy.”

“No.” She stood up. Pursed her lips and thought for a second. Sat back down and reached towards me, palm up. “Give it to me.”

Suddenly I was the one scared. “You sure?”

Alana flexed her fingers. What else could I do? I dropped the toy into her outstretched hand and waited to see what would happen next.

What happened next was that she dropped it. It slipped from her grasp, hit the edge of the bed, and ricocheted towards the ground. We both dived and caught it together, our hands overlapping across the handle.

We laughed.

The air felt lighter.

Together, we clicked down the button with our thumbs, mine on top of hers. Waves of vibration rolled from the rounded head down through the handle. I recoiled, letting go. Luckily, Alana held on this time. The gentle buzz of the white rubber seemed to mesmerize her. She held it up and stared at it, wide-eyed, like she was under some kind of spell.

“Hello?” I waved a hand in her face. “Earth to Alana?”

“It’s vibrating,” she said softly, a note of awe audible in her voice.

“Wow,” I said. “Vibrating, huh? Some magic wand that is. What’s next, is it gonna light up and sing a song?”

She ignored me, choosing instead to move the toy so the tip touched the bare skin of her forearm. Alana did a little gasp, though whether it was for dramatic effect or from actual surprise I couldn’t tell. The buzzing noise changed as the head met with resistance. She moved it up to her wrist and then back down to her elbow. As the vibrations spread across her skin, a smile was spreading across her face.

“Your turn,” she said all of a sudden, pushing the toy at me. Its high-pitched hum reminded me of an angry insect about to attack.

“No thanks,” I said quickly.

She snorted. “Fine. Just hold out your arm.”

Reluctantly, I did. She pushed my sleeve up to the elbow and lowered the wand. I squeezed my eyes shut, but realizing that was silly, I opened them back up before Alana could notice. The head pressed against my skin. I took in a breath. The vibration sent shivers running down my spine.

“Yeah, so?” I yanked my arm back. “I didn’t hear any moaning.”

But my snark sent an idea into Alana’s head. She leaned back on her elbows and I could see the familiar gleam shining in her eyes. She gave me a steady look, almost like a challenge, and then pushed the trembling toy between her legs.

Rubber met nylon as the head pressed against her leggings. She gasped — and this time, I knew she wasn’t faking it. Once her mouth opened, it didn’t close again. Her breaths came in short bursts as I continued to watch, hardly believing what I was witnessing with my own two eyes.

She wasn’t really moving it around, I noticed. Not like how she’d demonstrated her mom had done. Instead, she was just sort of alternating the force at which she held it to her crotch, pressing the head firmly into her leggings for a few seconds and then letting up and allowing it to buzz barely on the surface.

Her right hand, the unoccupied one, clutched at the comforter. She had it in a death grip, like she needed something steady to hold her in place or else her entire body would start to quiver in time with the vibrations emanating from that magical wand.

After a minute or two, I couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Alana?” I asked hesitantly. But my voice came out in a gruff whisper and I didn’t think she heard me. The drone of it must have drowned me out, I figured.

After a few more moments had passed, however, the wand ascended into the air. Alana looked over at me. Her cheeks were flushed and she was panting a little, like she’d just run wind sprints at soccer practice. Except she’d quit soccer after the first game of the season.

“Want a turn?” Her voice sounded scratchy. She held the toy out toward me. I swear I could almost feel it vibrating through the air.

My balled fists moved unconsciously into my lap, as if ready to defend it at all costs. I gulped and gazed at the floor. How was I supposed to make direct eye contact after watching her sticking that thing between her legs?

Alana didn’t wait long. Once it was clear I had no intention of accepting her offering, she eagerly moved to a new position, bringing her legs onto the bed and sitting up on her knees. Facing me, of course, so that I happened to have a great view when she stuck the wand back between her thighs.

Her eyes fluttered as the head made contact, but she didn’t make any startled sounds this time. Not at first, anyway.

She scooted her legs further apart. Now that there was more room to maneuver, she started moving the magic wand a little, rotating it so the rounded head circled around her privates.

I could feel my fists in my own lap as I watched. My fingers fiddled the loose folds of my dark blue athletic shorts, pulling and prodding at the fabric as I gritted my teeth. Unexpected things always popped up when I was hanging out with Alana, but this was on another level.

I felt movement from underneath me. The geology class presentation from the start of the school year popped into my head. What are the early warning signs of an earthquake?

But it was only Alana. She had begun moving her lower torso, gently rolling her hips in a sort of rhythmic dance with the wand. Her head was tilted down as if to watch the action unfolding in her lap, but her eyes were closed. A small exclamation escaped from her mouth. I wondered how long it would be until she started moaning like her mother.

Her swaying was making the surface of the bed shift in time with her movements, causing my own body to rock slightly despite my efforts to remain an island in this unsteady ocean. Frustrated, I decided to go on the offensive. I checked to see if she was paying me any attention — of course she wasn’t, she was on an island of her own — and then channeled all the tension in my body down to my muscular glutes (thanks soccer) and propelled myself upwards in a burst of energy.

My surprise bounce didn’t have quite the effect I intended. Alana didn’t ricochet off the bed and into the ceiling, for one thing. Instead, it propelled her backwards, which caused her to lean forward — pressing herself tightly against the toy. For a second, the head disappeared from view, squished between her thighs with only the handle sticking out. The constant hum cut off, contained between her legs. Her hands spread out on both sides in an attempt to remain upright.

Alana let loose a choking kind of groan and collapsed face first on the bed in a fit of giggles. I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying. Maybe it was both.

I let myself fall back on the bed, too, a little smile on my face.

She managed to get a sentence out through her tears, “What the hell, Em?”

“Sorry,” I giggled back. “I had to.”

We lay like that for a few minutes, collecting ourselves. I stared up at the ceiling, secretly glad that I hadn’t sent Alana soaring to meet it. I kept picturing her face right before she’d crumpled: her bulging eyes, her widening mouth.

“That was—incredible,” Alana said after a while. She held down on the button and switched the toy off, then turned her face sideways on the bedspread to look at me. “This thing—the vibrations—I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“Really?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She nodded. The gesture looked funny with her head pressed sideways against the bed and her dark hair snaking out all around her. A dreaminess filled her eyes. “It’s so different than doing it with your fingers.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just gave a little snort, happy that the spectacle had ended. She must have interpreted it differently. Not as a vague response, but as a jealous request. A snort that said I wanted to feel what she had felt.

“Whew,” she wheezed, lifting herself up on her hands. “Guess this means it’s your—”

“No way.”

She stared at me. I stared back at her.

“Whatever,” Alana relented. She sat with her legs folded underneath her on either side. “I only thought you might be getting bored with nothing to do.”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Maybe.” I just wanted us to do something else now.

“C'mere,” she beckoned me forward with a finger.

I didn’t want to humor her. But I didn’t want to be forced to sit back and watch her again, either. I scooted towards the foot of the bed on my knees.

She reached for the Mini Magic Wand. Picked it up. I flinched, preparing to hightail it for the door if she came at me with that thing. But instead, she placed it on the blanket between us. As she leaned back on her elbows, her thighs spread apart.

My eyes boggled. Was she— Did she want me to—?

“Go ahead,” Alana said. “You can do me.” She made it sound so normal, like she was inviting me to paint her nails or something.

My mind reeled. This was crazy, right? Intruding upon her mother’s privacy and finding a magical vibrating wand was one thing, but actually using it? Together?

But some kind of inexplicable competitive spirit possessed me. Maybe I could get her back, in a manner of speaking, for dragging me away from soccer practice to play with a toy. Plus I was curious to know how it would feel holding that thing in my own hand. And at least it would probably be better than just watching her do it to herself.

I reached down and closed my fingers around it. The rubbery handle felt reassuring in my grip. I held it up and pressed down on the circular button raised ever so slightly above the surrounding material. The little rounded ball at the top hummed to life as ardently as ever.

I stared down into Alana’s lap. Her leggings looked a shade darker there, I thought, like a shadow had fallen. Or maybe it was just that the fabric was double layered around the crotch.

A noise prompted me to look up. It was Alana clearing her throat. “Take your time,” she said. Something about her tone made me a little mad. Of course I was going to take my time. I didn’t rush headlong into things. I wasn’t her.

I grasped the wand in both hands, hunched over, and jammed the buzzing ball against her body.

Alana flinched as it bumped her leggings. “Em!” she yelped. “Not so hard.” I eased up, letting my left hand fall to my side, not wanting to hurt her. “There,” she said. “That’s better.”

I began running the wand back and forth between her legs, copying how I’d seen her doing it. “Good,” she breathed, watching my technique. “Keep doing that.”

I did, cycling the white wand across her as its head pressed into her black leggings. It whirred like a motorized hair clipper, and I started to feel a little like a stylist at a salon. I knew Alana shaved in between her legs; she’d told me so at a sleepover last month when the hour was late and our heads were loopy.

I had already decided that I would never shave there. Looking down at the tuft of growing hair always gave me a little thrill, a visible sign that I was becoming mature enough to enter into womanhood. Plus, I’d always secretly wished to have been born a redhead, and sometimes, if I looked at it in just the right light, the hair between my legs took on a decidedly scarlet glow.

Alana’s breathing was becoming more labored as I continued my work with the wand. When the head reached the top of its arc, she gave a little moan. I peeked at her face and was surprised to find her staring back at me, green eyes glistening.

How long had she been looking at me? We stayed like that for a few moments, eyes locked together. And the whole time, I kept pressing the toy against her most private place.

“Oh, Emma,” she whimpered.

I got a funny feeling when she said that. I tore my gaze away and refocused on the magic show I was performing below. I ran the ball down to about the middle of where I figured her privates were and pushed firmly, holding it in place while it pulsed.

I risked a glance up to see how Alana was reacting. Her eyes had closed; she wasn’t looking at me anymore. Now that she was distracted, I found myself free to study her all I wanted. I’d always known she was pretty, but now there was a different quality about her that I had never noticed.

This was the girl who had taken on three bullies at once in middle school and popped right up off the ground ready to do it again. Now she looked like she might disintegrate if I pushed too hard or moved too fast. When she reached up and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, they just fell right back. Her mouth was hanging open, permanently ajar now as her breaths came in short staccato bursts. It was kind of—dare I say it— cute? My cheeks grew hot as I observed her. And was that a smile spreading across my face like an idiot?

When I looked back to her lap, Alana’s left hand was inside her leggings. I blanched, almost dropped the wand, which was still sitting stationary below her hand. Though I couldn’t really see through the material, it was easy to tell what she was doing by the shapes of her fingers undulating underneath the fabric.

Was I not doing a good enough job with the wand? Or was it just that two things rubbing against her body felt better than one? I held the vibrating head against her leggings at the center of her crotch as Alana’s fingers flew around the top. And I discovered that it felt kind of good, working together. Like we were teammates trying to reach the same goal. Alana says I try to bring everything back to soccer eventually, and I guess she’s not wrong.

Once I was over the initial whammy of seeing something new gyrating between Alana’s legs, I tried to think back to health class. Female anatomy. What was it Mrs. Belacqua had said? That the most sensitive nerves in a woman’s body are located in a little nub above the vagina? The clito— something? Whatever it was called, I figured that was what Alana’s fingers were targeting.

I suspected it wouldn't be good to keep the wand still for too long, so I started spinning it around in place. Alana’s fingers formed a ‘V’ shape beneath her leggings. She ran them down her body until they came to the head of the wand, then moved them back up and started making tight circles around her nub.

Another moan.

I realized I had been holding my breath — for how long? It felt like there was a tension building up inside me. I reached down, pulled at my shorts. Then I adjusted my legs criss-cross applesauce and leaned closer to Alana.

Since her fingers had trespassed into my territory, I decided it was fair game to go on the offensive again. I ran the wand up, making sure to go nice and slow so she could feel it coming. Her breathing became heavier as I neared the top. The ball reached her sensitive spot and bumped her fingers out of the way.

“Yes,” Alana gasped. “There!”

Happy to oblige, I held my position, tenderly twisting the head as it vibrated on top of her nub. Her head tilted back and she blinked up at the ceiling. A high-pitched, unintelligible sound came through her open mouth.

Sometimes her fingers would dart in underneath the ball and poke at her clito-whatever, then retreat to rubbing alongside it. One look at her face and it was obvious how it made her feel. And it was thanks to me. Well, at least partly.

All of a sudden I felt a throbbing between my own legs. With everything going on between Alana’s, maybe mine were feeling a little left out? No, I told myself, but my body wasn’t listening.

I frowned. The buzz of the ball was making Alana’s eyes flutter, and the rest of her concentration was focused on her fingers. At this point, I doubted she would even look my way. I couldn’t imagine a feeling that could make someone moan like that. But I’ve always been more of a hands-on learner.

I acted before I could think myself out of it, stuffing a hand down my shorts. The Emma from this morning would’ve never believed it. Heck, the present Emma almost couldn’t believe it.

Here I was trying to withstand Alana’s childish impulses and be the more mature woman in the room, and then I go and do something like this. I felt a little ashamed to be doing it after making a big deal about it earlier. But not ashamed enough to take my hand out.

Quickly, I returned my focus to Alana. She was spreading her fingers, stretching herself out as the vibrations stimulated her nerve endings. The activities taking place made the mattress rock a little.

I wondered what Mrs. Harding would say if she walked into her room right now. Would we be in trouble? She was the one who had bought the Mini Magic Wand and left it lying on her dresser. Technically, everything that happened after that was her fault.

I took a deep breath as I watched the shapes of Alana’s fingers move around the wand like dancers circling a maypole. My own fingers were moving, too, but I wasn’t feeling what she was feeling. Maybe it was because they didn’t have much experience getting things done on their own — the left hand was the one inside my shorts, since my dominant right hand was busy doing more important work.

Or maybe Alana was just stealing all the sensations in the room, absorbing them into her body and expelling them out through her mouth in little gasping exhalations. Regardless, my fingers kept going underneath my shorts and I felt some of the tightness that had been welling up in me evaporating.

After another minute or two, something bumped the wand off course — Alana was becoming a little too enthusiastic with her fingers. They backed off a bit as I returned the ball to its post. Alana moaned softly as I pressed the wand to her nub.

A moment later, she shifted her weight. I thought maybe she was getting tired. Then I realized her other hand had vanished. No — not vanished. It was inside her leggings now, too, but coming in underneath the wand. She had stretched it beneath her butt, curving around to her crotch from below.

My fingers froze as I watched, open-mouthed in anticipation. While Alana’s left hand poked around the buzzing ball, her right hand pressed against her lower privates, rubbing gently with her fingers squeezed together. I felt my own fingers picking up speed again inside my shorts and sucked in a shaky breath. It was getting harder to hold the toy steady, but I couldn’t give up now.

What happened next seemed to go in slow motion, like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room and we were in zero gravity. I saw the knuckle of Alana’s middle finger rise, creating a distinct shape against her leggings. It paused for a moment, hovering in mid-air. Taking aim, I realized with apprehension.

I gasped out loud as Alana plunged her finger into herself. Its outline faded as it sank inside her body. I might’ve stayed there in a stupor, just staring down into her lap like a nincompoop were it not for the Mini Magic Wand. It started to slip from my grasp, buzzing like an angry bee. The sudden sensation brought me back into real time. I adjusted my grip to keep the head vibrating steadily against her nub.

Below, the outline of her finger against the fabric had come back into view. But it only remained for a brief second before Alana pushed it back in. She continued like that, thrusting her finger into herself — again and again and again. Her eyes clenched shut as her strokes became faster and now she was moaning with every thrust.

I found myself becoming short of breath. Watching Alana was one thing, but combined with my own fondling fingers it was a lot to handle. I rubbed between my delicate folds of skin and had to fight from making a moan myself. It was so sensitive there that every move I made sent new shivers up my body. No wonder Alana had thought I was lying about touching myself.

Each time she moaned made me go faster. Pretty soon I had picked up the rhythm from her jackhammering middle finger and matched it, poking and prodding haphazardly around my own clit-thingie.

If I wasn’t caught up in my concentration, I probably would’ve laughed at the two of us. What a sight we must have made. Me, crouched on the bed, one hand down my shorts and the other holding the small white wand in a vise grip. Her, with hands moving frantically between her legs, moaning as lustily as her mother had that morning— maybe even louder.

Having three things between her legs took Alana to the peaks of pleasure, but she didn’t last long. Eventually, they pushed her over the edge.

The ramming finger halted halfway inside her, then fell away. I thought she had finally exhausted herself, but her other hand kept going. Her fingers pushed beneath the ball, no longer able to control themselves as they rubbed feverishly against her bud. I let the wand drop to the bed as Alana took over the territory.

She groaned, her body giving a sudden spasm. My fingers jerked between my legs as I watched her head loll, falling backwards over the edge of the bed until her face was upside down. It was probably a good thing she couldn’t see anymore, because for some reason I stuck my right hand inside to join the other one. One on top of the other, I squeezed my palms against my privates.

I think I was starting to feel like Alana. There was no way I could make it up to that ledge now, but try telling that to my fingers! I pursed my lips as they started speeding between my legs like frenzied runners racing towards a finish line.

Meanwhile, Alana’s fingers finally slowed to a stop underneath her leggings. She held them still, resting on the top of her crotch. She exhaled noisily, her head still hanging upside down off the bed and out of my line of sight.

“Emma?” came her voice. After the last few minutes, it sounded strange and warm and wild, full of unspoken possibilities. It was funny to hear her speaking normal words after all the gasping cries.

I realized she was waiting for me to answer. But my two pointer fingers had just started pressing against either side of my nub and I didn’t trust what might come out of my mouth if I opened it. I knew I should stop. My time was up. The play had ended. But my fingers were late getting off the field.

“Was that real?” Alana asked seriously. “Am I dreaming, Em?”

I couldn’t hold back my snark. “I wish you were,” is what I meant to say, but what actually came out was “I wish—” followed by a rushed intake of air as I suppressed another, more embarrassing exclamation.

“You wish what?” Alana started to rise.

I quick yanked my hands up out of my shorts. I barely had time to fold them haphazardly in my lap before she was in front of me, eyes sparkling and a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

I gulped, no longer sure what I wanted to say. Luckily, I didn’t have to finish my sentence. Alana flopped down on her side, looking up at me with her bent right arm supporting her head.

“I wish,” she said, “I had found this thing years ago.”

“What?” Eyebrows raised, my consternation substituted in for my embarrassment. I pulled a face at her. “No way. You couldn’t have done that back in middle school.”

“Em,” she grinned up at me. “I’ve been fingering myself since the fourth grade.” She stuck up a hand and waggled her fingers proudly as if to prove the point.

I shook my head, shuddered. “Gross.”

We went quiet for a bit — me sitting straight with my fingers politely laced in my lap, and her stretched out sideways a few feet in front of me. Her dark hair hung down onto the bedspread around her. I found my eyes returning to her crotch and looked away before my cheeks could get hot.

“I guess I should thank you,” Alana giggled dreamily. “That was—” She caught my gaze and gave me a mischievous wink. “Well, you know.”

“I know that was pathetic,” I sneered. “You’re a weakling! Even the stupidest zombie on the planet wouldn’t have moaned so much.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, not missing a beat. “But it was all your fault. You were the one with the wand.”

“Yeah?” I said, smirking back at her. “I guess I did always want to be a magician when I was little.”

Her eyebrows arched, “I remember.”

We started laughing, but then I clammed up because Alana was rising, reaching for the cause of all this chaos… and I didn’t like the look on her face.

“Alana—” I said, a note of warning in my voice.

“It’s time, Em.”

“Time for what?” I said, playing dumb.

“Time for me to show you some magic tricks.” She motioned for me to lay back. I resisted, biting my bottom lip and staring stubbornly at the wall.

“You nervous?” She tried to poke me, but I recoiled; I knew where that finger had been. “Scared?”

“No.”

“Your face is all red.”

“I’m still hot from soccer practice.”

She cackled. “That ended like an hour ago. You must just be chicken.” She started squawking and doing the dumb arm flaps. It was ridiculous and I almost broke a smile. I stopped myself just in time, frowning extra hard to cancel it out.

“No, Alana, I’m not a chicken.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said. “‘Cause you sure are acting like one. Baby,” she sniffed, jutting her nose up. “Guess you’re just not ready. Being older really does make me more mature.”

That did it. We were only four months apart, but she loved to use that gap against me when it suited her. She knew I couldn’t stand being talked down to like that. I never have.

“I’m not a chicken,” I growled. “And I’m not a baby.” I crossed my arms and let myself fall, making a satisfying thump as my back hit the bed pillows.

Alana descended upon me like a vulture. There was a victorious look in her beaming eyes that made me gulp and wonder what I’d gotten myself into.

She touched a hand to my bare knee.

I flinched even though her touch was warm.

“Em,” she told me. “Relax. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mumbled, then blanched as she ran her hand up my leg. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you warmed up,” she explained. “This thing is a lot to handle if you don’t start out slow.”

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” I grunted, glad that she had been too caught up in her own pleasure to spy my hands in my shorts earlier. She didn’t realize I was already worked up.

“Suit yourself.” Her hand ran into the leg of my shorts and stopped. She frowned. “Wanna take these off?” My glare was all the answer she needed. “Okay, okay,” she raised her hands in surrender. “Just a suggestion.”

My eyes followed the head of the wand as Alana lowered it to my lap. I found my fists clamping to the bedspread on either side of me and forced myself to loosen my grasp.

Calm down, I told myself.

Easier thought than done, myself replied.

Once the wand was right above my shorts, Alana wavered. She looked at me as if unsure of herself. Like she suddenly needed more permission.

My head jerked forward in an awkward motion that looked more enthusiastic than I intended. That was all the encouragement she needed.

As soon as it touched me, I knew I was in trouble. This was no stream of water, pretend pony pillow, or hands down my pajamas. No, these sensations gave me feelings I had no comparison for or experience with.

I looked down. Alana hadn’t even gotten to her target yet. She was running the ball around my thighs teasingly, as if she knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if she went straight for the score.

After thirty seconds, I proved her right. I couldn’t take it anymore; the Mini Magic Wand was causing strange, unknown excitement to emanate from my most private places. I felt like I was going to scream, or pee, or both.

So of course, that’s when Alana moved the wand up my thigh and into my lap.

I sucked in my breath. It was like having hundreds of fingers between my legs, and all of them were moving so fast they blurred together in one never-ending whirlwind. I had two layers of clothing between myself and the wand, but even so, the vibrations of the motor made me clench my teeth together to prevent crying out. It was too much. I wasn’t ready to join her in this newfound maturity. I couldn’t let her have the satisfaction of hearing me moan.

I lunged away from Alana and leapt off the bed.

“Em?” she called in surprise.

I made a beeline for Mrs. Harding’s bathroom door, slamming it behind me once I was safely inside. Alana’s footsteps followed. She rapped on the door.

“Hey, you okay?”

My back was against the door. I tried to slow my breathing. “Yeah,” I answered, raising my voice to be heard. “I— I just— Gimme a minute, I have to go to the bathroom.” I waited, listening, until I heard a reluctant sigh as she retreated.

Once she was gone, I pushed off the door and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the sink. I stared at my reflection. It may have looked like the same old me on the outside, but inside I felt completely foreign. The tingling down there was making me nervous. I crossed my legs, but that only seemed to intensify the deep throbbing.

I have to, I thought frantically. But I couldn’t go through with it. Not out there. Not in front of her. It would be too embarrassing. If I was going to get it over and done with, it had to happen now.

My hand slid inside my shorts again, and this time, it wasn’t playing around. I felt relief run through me as my fingers started stimulating my special spot. My eyes fluttered. I sucked a deep breath into my body as I kicked the ball downfield. I had to score a goal!

“C’mon already,” Alana’s voice whined faintly from somewhere beyond the bathroom. I’m sure Alana has some virtues, but patience is not one of them. My eyes flicked to the door. I could picture her out there, sitting on her mother’s bed with crossed arms, feet drumming a restless rhythm on the carpet.

Her voice, a little closer this time: “You can’t hide from your fate forever, Emma.”

I urged myself onward.

I sat down on the toilet seat and really went at it, rubbing for all I was worth. As my fingers jerked against my little nub, I could feel it building up inside of me like a rising, rhythmic drum beat of my own. My free hand reached back for support and found the toilet tank. The white surface was cold and slippery, but I didn’t care anymore. Fingers touched flesh and I knew I was about to cross the goal line.

But I was losing control of myself. My hips rolled, which would’ve been fine if I was doing this anywhere else. With my slick shorts and the smooth toilet lid, though, my lower body started to slide off the edge. “Oh, shit!” I exclaimed aloud, surprised at the sound of my voice.

Next thing I knew Alana was banging on the door. “Em? What’s wrong?”

I should’ve stopped, but I was so close. A flood of feelings was about to overtake me.

“I’m coming in!”

Just a few more seconds and—

The door burst open and Alana’s head jutted into view, eyes blinking like traffic signals. Except these green lights didn’t tell me to keep going.

My hand escaped from between my thighs as I rocketed to a standing position. Had she seen? I found I didn’t really care much about that, because I was mentally cursing myself for not being able to finish — and now it was too late.

“Emma?” Alana pulled the door wide and stepped inside. “Everything alright?” She regarded me suspiciously.

“Yeah,” I swallowed everything back. I tried to think of what else to say, something to explain myself.

Thankfully, Alana’s impatience won out against her curiosity. She shook her head as if to erase the events of the last few minutes. “C’mon then,” she said, reaching for my hand. “We better hurry. Who knows when she’ll be back.”

I hesitated. What if my hand felt hot or wet or weird?

She grabbed it anyway, leading me back into the room and pushing me down onto the bed. I didn’t struggle. I let myself lay there, staring up at her, legs dangling, feet grazing the floor.

The white wand flashed in her hand. She met my eyes and made sure I was looking as she held the button and activated that torturous, rapturous creation. I bit my lower lip as my eyes strayed to the softly humming head. Quickly, I tore them away from the toy and looked up into Alana’s face.

“You made me feel so good,” she murmured, advancing towards me. “Now it’s my turn to make you moan.”

When I didn’t reply, she faltered mid-step. I think she expected me to offer some clever comeback, or make a break for the exit, but I had given up playing defense. I had my chance and I blew it. Now I accepted that my fate was in Alana’s hands. Or hand, to be more accurate.

She was standing still, staring at me, considering. I stared up at her. And for a brief second, I thought our eyes were communicating more than our words ever did. Although I guess I was wrong, because that’s when Alana did something crazy.

She pounced on me.

But she didn’t go for my crotch. Instead, she grabbed at the leg of my shorts with her free hand, tugging at the shimmery blue fabric.

I yelped as I realized what was happening, kicking my legs and clawing at her. What does she think she’s doing? I put up a good fight, but she had the element of surprise on her side. A few moments later and my shorts were hanging around my ankles. My cheeks burned with outrage.

Alana had pantsed me.

Furious, I aimed one last sharp kick at her. My left foot connected with her shoulder, driving her away. But it’s hard to kick with only one leg when your shorts are tying your ankles together — so my right foot connected with something, too.

As Alana fell backwards onto the floor, the wand went up in the air. I watched, wide-eyed, as it flipped towards me like a strange satellite falling from orbit, whirring all the way. It happened in less than a second, but it felt like I was watching in slow-motion, powerless to stop it, my body frozen in place.

I gasped as the satellite crash landed into my lap. Ball buried between my naked thighs. Buzzing against my light blue panties.

For a split second, I couldn’t believe what had happened. Maybe I had somehow fallen asleep in the bathroom and this was just a dream? But the sensations brought on by the wand were realer than any fantasy.

My mouth opened as I gazed down at my lap. Little white clouds decorated the sky blue fabric of my underwear. They were my lucky pair, which sounds weird, but I always seemed to play a little better, kick a little harder wearing them beneath my shorts.

They may have been lucky, but they sure weren’t a very good goalie. The thin cotton layer allowed each pulsation to pass through, and I was feeling every single one in my most sensitive spots.

Suddenly, I saw my right hand reach out. Its fingers circled around the toy’s handle. Yes! But it didn’t pull the thing away.

Instead, that traitorous appendage pressed the contraption closer to my crotch as it sent its vibrations coursing through me.

This wasn’t like before. When it was buzzing against my shorts, I could grit my teeth and try to get through it. Now that this well-worn sky was the only thing separating me from the head, I couldn’t even pretend to have things under control.

I groaned as the wand tickled my nub — and it wasn’t a quiet, ladylike groan. It was an aching, primal sound from deep within me that I never would’ve guessed I was capable of producing.

My hand was giving the wand a guided tour of my most private places. A thrill ran through my entire body and I squeezed my thighs tighter around the toy. My free hand clawed at the bedspread as the ball pulsed against my panties.

I was doing it. Finishing what I’d started as I had watched Alana go at it in this very spot. Finishing what I hadn’t been granted enough time to do in the bathroom. Finishing what I’d never been brave enough to finish on my own before.

Whether it was bouncing on my purple pillow or laying underneath the faucet’s flow, I had never done it to completion. I would work myself up into a frenzy, but always pull back before the end. With sensations so powerful, I guess I was scared to see how far they’d take me in the pursuit of pleasure... and who I would be once I let that happen.

The enrapturement emanating from between my legs was overwhelming. My hips bucked and I cried out, making my delight audible. My face felt like fire. Whether it was from embarrassment or the heat building up inside of me didn’t matter, because I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even want to. Not anymore.

Suddenly, I found it hard to breathe, as if my body was so full of these feelings that there was no room remaining for air. My left hand rose from the bedspread to clutch at my chest as I gasped. Was this it? My eyes gawked and I found myself hyper aware of my surroundings.

The soft cream-colored comforter. The small round window above the bookshelf. The pretty dark-haired girl standing a few feet away.

All this time, I had been too distracted to notice Alana, but I did now.

She stood there, watching me intently. And though she had no wand and her hands hung innocently by her sides, for some reason her face looked as red and feverish as mine felt.

My mouth opened to call to her, but I realized I didn’t know what I wanted to say, and a magnificent moan came out instead. The toy throbbed between my legs and many more followed.

As I worked the Mini Magic Wand against myself, I stared up at Alana. Her face had become as bright and effervescent as the sun, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her luminescence.

I should’ve been looking down, hiding my flushed face, overcome with shame. But I was being overcome with much nicer feelings. And I realized I wanted her to see me. I wanted her to know that I could do anything she could do; that I would follow anywhere she led. Because — because I loved her. This sudden revelation didn’t shock me. It felt like I’d known for a long time, somehow.

A thrilling tremor racked my entire being. My eyes squeezed shut as my body spasmed with satisfaction. My legs stretched out like they were reaching for something. My hands were shaking and all of a sudden the wand was falling as I lost my grip on the handle.

Next thing I knew, her fingers were wrapping around mine — a soft, warm reassurance. Our eyes met and the hint of a grin played at the corners of her lips. Together, we brought the wand back between my legs.

Then I let her take over the toy.

My hand plunged underneath my panties to play. As Alana massaged the wand above the clouds, I soared into the heavens, touching my skin, spreading it apart, offering my defenseless self to her. The brilliant white ball spun over the goal line.

She took my free hand in hers, interlacing our fingers together, as I cried out like a stupid, undead, lovesick heroine.