Marissa wasn’t home. I knew exactly where she was. She was at Ste. Vivienne’s Clinic, keeping Sosette company.

I felt bad for Sosette. I did. But she was a girl with issues. Partly because of that, I didn’t want my daughter near her except during school and at home. Marissa knew this, of course, but she went to see Sosette every chance she got.

Sosette had been diagnosed with a carcinoma on her lower colon at 14. She’d gotten chemo, surgery, and radiation and the cancer had gone into remission. Later, she’d been pronounced cancer-free. During that time, my daughter had been a 13-and-a-half-year-old volunteering at the children’s hospital. Marissa had met Sosette and the two of them had become friends.

Since Sosette had missed a year of school, she’d returned in the same grade as my Marissa. From that point, the two had begun taking classes together, picking the same extra-curricular activities, going on double-dates…heck, everything.

Three months after she’d turned 18, Sosette had been diagnosed with cancer again. The doctors had caught it early, but it meant more time in hospitals and clinics for the poor girl. She’d had successful surgery right away, but there was chemo ahead.

Then I’d learned from Marissa how dramatic Sosette’s home life was. Her mom and step-dad fought a lot, occasionally to the point of punching, kicking, biting, and scratching. Her older brother often drank and got high on whatever he could find and/or steal. He wasn’t often at Sosette’s house, but when he was, he brought two or three of his friends. Sosette didn’t feel safe then. At least a couple of times, she’d seen one of them brandishing a gun.

When I’d invited Sosette to stay at our apartment, she and Marissa had jumped at the opportunity. The day before she’d turned 19, she’d said good-bye to her mom and come to live with us. (We threw her a nice little birthday party. She and Marissa had looked so happy and content!) Luckily, she was still covered by her mother’s medical insurance; her chemo wasn’t quite complete yet.

One night after dinner, I’d seen Sosette washing the dishes and Marissa drying them. That had been when I’d noticed the just-healing cuts on Sosette’s forearms.

Less than a month later, I’d gotten out of bed very late when my phone had begun vibrating noisily on the top of my dresser. Since I was up anyway, I’d gone to the bathroom for a glass of water and heard a sound I’d recognized immediately. Sosette and Marissa were both in Marissa’s room, having “intimate relations.”

A lesbian was sticking her fingers inside my sweet little girl; I wasn’t happy with this development! I waited until the weekend to talk to Marissa alone. I had told her that I knew she and Sosette had had sex and that I didn’t want them doing so under my roof. I also told Marissa that because she saw Sosette in school and at home, she shouldn’t visit Sosette unless I was with her and she shouldn’t stay in after-school activities with Sosette once Sosette got well and returned to school.

To put it very mildly, Marissa opposed these actions.

I’d never had an argument like that in my life, not even with my ex-husband. The shouting match had ended with her running out the front door, slamming it, and driving away–probably to the clothing store in the mall where Sosette worked.


Here I stood in my empty house. I wondered so many things. Would Sosette react to my objections to her infatuation with Marissa the way Marissa had? Sosette had always been respectful and soft-spoken around me. But a cancer survivor must have a will of steel under it all. Honestly, her environment must have warped her quite a bit, even if it didn’t show on the outside.

Staying here and thinking wasn’t going to help our little family. I had to go to the clinic and see Sosette–and Marissa.


The clinic staff know me by sight, just as they know Marissa and Sosette. The guy working reception at the moment smiled at me when he saw me approaching. “Room 2106, Mrs. Pearson,” he said.

“Thank you, Anthony,” I replied. I went right for the stairs, to the second floor, then turned right and proceeded up the very wide corridor.

When I got to the room, the curtains that separated half the room from the other half were drawn, so that only a sliver of the room’s other side could be seen–and even that wouldn’t be seen unless the observer got really close to the curtains. However, I noticed the very bottoms of my daughter’s shoes and the legs of the chair in which she sat.

As I was entering, two clinic staff workers were in the vacant half of the room, busy with a piece of equipment that records vital signs. (I’d heard a P.A. call it a “robo-nurse” before.) The machinery rattled a bit and one of the casters squeaked. There was quite a racket for about a minute. Eventually, they wheeled the machine out the door.

“Wow, that was noisy,” said Sosette. “Well, like I was saying, I’ve been writing that essay for the scholarship panel in the meantime. It’s almost done.”

“And you’ve been bored to tears,” said Marissa. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“It’s been fine. Really! Don’t worry about me. I have to get this done and I make more progress when I’m by myself.”

The girls hadn’t noticed that I was here. I supposed that I should announce myself and go in to talk with them–but I wanted to hear what they would talk about when they were alone. Eavesdropping isn’t usually my thing, but would I ever get a chance this good again?

“…college next year,” Marissa was saying. “I’ve talked to a couple of friends who’re living there now. They say it’ll be no problem at all to get housing together.”

So Marissa planned to live with Sosette in college, did she? She hadn’t said a word, knowing I’d be against it. This was something else to talk about.

“…sounds like a great setup. The professors actually teach the classes; it’s not all just delegated to T.A.s. We’ll probably learn more about medical science in a semester there than we would in four years at State University!” That was Sosette talking again.

“Yeah.” Marissa spoke, but she sounded distracted. I heard her chair creak quietly. She was getting up. “When are they coming to talk to you?”

Sosette replied, “Dr. Alami or Nurse Foster-Goodwin should be up here to discuss the test results at 5:30.”

Their discussion was very easy to hear from the other side of the modesty curtains, but I wanted to see. Feeling guilty but super-curious, I got up and went closer to the slit where the curtains met. Marissa was saying, “…know what we can do while we wait for the doctor.”

“This again? Are you ever not horny?” said Sosette.

“Hey, that’s not fair! You know as well as anybody that if a new tumor develops, the earlier we catch it, the better. C’mon, let me check your breasts for lumps,” Marissa said.

“If this is so proper, why do you always make sure to stop before anyone sees us?” Sosette asked.

“Well, I don’t want the nurses to think I’m trying to do their jobs for them.”

Marissa and Sosette giggled. From my vantage point, I could see Marissa opening Sosette’s flimsy gown and putting her hands on Sosette’s perky little tits.

This was how it was? It seemed as though Marissa was the instigator. My baby girl–I thought she had been shielding her friend when she’d said that she’d “made the first move” romantically. But now they were alone together. Her actions were explaining everything with complete honesty.

…And Marissa was honestly getting to first base. As I watched, she took one of Sosette’s dark brown nipples into her mouth.

“Marcy, we’ll get caught!” Sosette protested quietly. Her actions didn’t match her words, though; she combed her fingers through Marissa’s short, auburn-dyed hair.

Sosette was the only person who called Marissa “Marcy.” I’d always thought that was pretty cute, but the way she said it this time was sultry and seductive.

Hold on, what was that? I reminded myself not to think, just to watch and listen.

What I heard was the sound of my daughter suckling another young woman. What I saw was two gorgeous young ladies kissing and touching one another. It looked…natural, somehow. Maybe even sweet.

My right hand had snuck down to the zipper of my jeans.

Angrily, I clasped my hands together behind my back.

“Your breasts don’t seem to have any irregularities, Miss Curran.” Marissa planted a wet kiss on each of Sosette’s puffy nipples. Sosette cooed happily. “Next, I’ll check you for uterine carcinoma.”

“‘Uterine?’ I’ve never had any uterine problems–”

“–We need to catch it early if you ever do,” said Marissa with an air of authority. “We have to check.”

Why didn’t I turn away? I wanted to. My moral consciousness pleaded with my lewd consciousness. I did not want to see this. I did not!

Marissa’s long-fingered hand stroked Sosette’s pelvic area; the motion was hidden only by the paper-thin hospital gown. Sosette looked around nervously. A couple of times, I was terrified she would notice me, but her eyes continued to sweep the little area enclosed by the curtains.

One part of my mind recoiled. The rest of my mind wished that Marissa would flip up the hem of the gown so I could get a better view.

I kind of got my wish. Marissa hiked up the gown, but she also shifted her position, so I only had a glimpse of Sosette’s pretty, mahogany-colored pussy. Even from several feet away, I saw the shiny liquid coating her lips; Marissa had done a good job of turning her on.

Marissa sat in my line-of-sight, but I could guess what was happening from the clues her arm motions and Sosette’s breathing gave me. After some teasing, my daughter inserted at least one of her fingers inside Sosette’s vagina. Sosette’s breath hitched for a moment and she let it out with a pleased sigh.

“Not feeling anything unusual so far,” Marissa said. “But I’ll keep checking….”

Sosette’s little squeaks and gasps informed us that the check was quite thorough. While I watched and listened, I absently rubbed my breasts; they felt a bit too…confined, somehow.

“Oh, what is this ‘lump’?” Marissa asked.

“That’s not a–oh! Oh–uh! That’s my…spot!” Sosette stammered joyfully. Her hips began to rock under my daughter’s hand. Sweat was visible on her forehead.

“I see,” Marissa teased. “I’d better check it for proper sensation, all the same.”

“Marcy!” Sosette’s voice was no more than an excited whimper. “I love you so much. Oh, right there!” Sosette’s curvy hips bounced off the sheets. Seeing her body in the throes of orgasm was breath-taking. My own clit throbbed as I stood silently. Watching Marissa hold up her glistening fingers and put them in her mouth was incredibly sexy–

–Someone touched the door knob! I pulled my hand from my panties (it had somehow snuck to my crotch again) and fixed myself while the girls on the other side of the curtain fixed themselves. I tried to keep calm. I’d have to play it cool to keep the girls from finding out about my eavesdropping.

While the door opened, I turned away and acted as though I had been straightening the visitors’ chairs. Dr. Alami had arrived. She was a tall, plump, happy woman; her smiling face was always reassuring. Only a couple of steps behind her was Nurse Foster-Goodwin, carrying Sosette’s thick file folder. He looked happy too, for a change. He was very professional, but his expression was usually a scowl. The doctor ignored me, but the nurse looked at me suspiciously for a moment. However, he said nothing; he just followed the doctor. Dr. Alami had pulled aside the modesty curtain by this time.

The young women were red-faced, winded, and perspiring, but Dr. Alami ignored that as well.

“We can leave off the chemotherapy, as planned. The results of the tests are all negative, Sosette,” she said. “Your intestine is cancer-free.”

“Yes!” said Marissa, lunging and hugging her girlfriend.

“That’s wonderful, Doctor!” I said. Marissa and Sosette double-taked; they hadn’t noticed me standing behind the doctor and the nurse. (I’m shorter than both.) I beamed at Sosette. She looked puzzled for a moment–she knew that there had been friction between Marissa and me about her–and she gave me a brilliant smile in return.


I talked with the nurse in the hall while Sosette and Marissa gathered Sosette’s things from the treatment room. “Her cancer wasn’t particularly aggressive, but it was surprising how fast she beat it,” said Mr. Foster-Goodwin. “She’s a fighter.”

“Why do you think that is?” I asked.

“This is just my professional opinion, of course; I can’t prove it. Sosette has something to fight for. Or someone.”


When the nurse had gone, I stood in the hall, waiting. I could easily hear the young ladies’ voices. Somehow, the tenor of the conversation had become serious. At least, it sounded as though it had.

“…every day no matter what. It’s more important than anything! What if you died? Do you know what I’d do without you?” Marissa asked.

Sosette sighed. “No, I don’t. And you don’t either. So don’t say you’d–”

“–I’d have to find someone else! Of course, she’d have to be a blonde or a redhead, because dark hair would remind me of you whenever she was with me. She’d have to have bigger boobs than you do and she’d have to make different noises when we fu–”

Sosette had grabbed a bed pillow and hit Marissa repeatedly with it. “You…are…an…evil…bitch! How do I put up with you?” Sosette managed to ask through her laughter.

I stifled my laughter.

And I realized that Marissa sounded just like I sometimes had when I’d talked with my most treasured loved ones.

This visit had lifted the veil from my eyes. Hearing and seeing them together, I had grown to understand. Marissa was in love with Sosette, the way I had been in love with her father not too many years ago. What I had thought was teenage rebellion was instead something beautiful. My daughter and her lover had grown to adulthood together and love had blossomed between them.

The pair stepped into the hallway. Marissa was clutching Sosette’s upper arm protectively. Sosette was usually weak for a day or two following treatment; Marissa was there to support her if she stumbled.

I surprised the hell out of them by wrapping my left arm around Marissa, my right arm around Sosette, and hugging them tightly to my chest. “Sosette, I’m so happy for you!” I said, holding back sudden tears.

Then it was my turn to be surprised. “I love you, Mom,” Sosette said.

“I love you, Mom,” Marissa repeated.

“I love you, Sosette. I love you, Marissa.” Sosette, take care of my baby girl, I added silently.

The day they left for college, I said it aloud.