"That’s it?" Makoto’s voice was laughingly indignant. "Yes, that’s it. Why, what were you expecting?" Ami sat back and took a sip of water. Reading the story aloud had made her thirsty and her back hurt from sitting so long. Standing, she handed the magazine to Makoto, and ran through a quick stretching sequence. Makoto glanced at the story, still shaking her head in mock disapproval. "I can’t believe you stopped it there!" "Why?" Ami’s voice was muffled against her leg as she stretched. "Well, for one thing, I want to know what happened after they, I mean we, kissed." Ami straightened up, leaned forward and kissed Makoto on the nose. "You turtle, you know perfectly well what happened - you were there." Makoto slid her arm around Ami’s head a drew it in for a longer kiss. When they parted, she sat back and put her feet up. "I know *I* was there, but your readers don’t. And it's not a fair story, anyway." "Fair?" Ami glanced at her, puzzled. Makoto leaned close. "Well I made love to you, but..." she left the sentence unfinished. Ami began to laugh. "That was on purpose." "Tease." "Of course." "You’d better have plans to make it up to me..." Makoto’s voice was dark, but Ami simply laughed and walked towards the bedroom. Makoto caught up with her, lifted her off the ground, spun her around and deposited the laughing woman on the bed with a thunk. Ami grabbed Makoto’s collar and pulled her in close, kissing her hard. "Let me get out of these disgusting clothes." Makoto began to pull away, but Ami held her fast. The smaller woman began to unbutton the double breasted jacket. "What did you make today anyway?" she wrinkled her nose at some of the stains on Makoto’s cooking school uniform. "Don’t ask. Let me just say that I do not love French cooking." She shucked the jacket, and after removing the reinforced shoes, her hideously checked pants. "Heaven forfend that cooking schools show any taste in uniforms..." she broke off with a gasp as Ami unhooked her bra and, sliding her hands under the sheer material, held her breasts. Kneeling on the bed behind Makoto, Ami stroked her until the taller girl threw her head back, arching her back in pleasure. Ami drew one hand lower, caressing the soft flesh of Makoto’s abdomen, finally sliding her hand beneath the band of her underwear. Makoto moaned as Ami’s hand moved into her, sliding gently up and down, spreading her wetness, playing with her center. Ami’s own head rolled back as she found Makoto’s clit and began to fondle it. Makoto’s breathing became more rapid and Ami encouraged this with the occasional squeeze to Makoto’s nipple, still under her hand. Ami leaned forward and curled her tongue gently into Makoto’s ear. Supporting Makoto’s body with her own, Ami began to stroke her faster, and whispering in her ear asked, "Will you come for me, Mako-chan?" Makoto moaned and quickly, her moans became louder and more frequent. She grabbed Ami’s hand and forced it to squeeze her breast, then, through gritted teeth, moaned once more, the sound tearing out of her from deep within her. Ami could feel Makoto’s body shaking with her climax. Slowing her stroking, Ami kissed Makoto’s neck until the taller woman relaxed backwards, letting herself go limp against Ami’s body. They lay down together while Ami stroked Makoto’s hair, and listened to her breathing. "I like the story much better now." Makoto grinned. "Good, because its paying for your school next semester!" Ami smiled at her lover. "It's nice that we don’t have to worry about your medical school tuition." Makoto rolled over onto her back. Ami lightly caressed the outlines of the muscles in her stomach. "Even if I hadn’t gotten a scholarship, my mother would have paid." "I know, but I feel easier knowing we can make it on our own." Makoto took Ami’s hand and massaged it gently. "True, but just think, after winning this writing contest, even if I don’t become a doctor, "Ami ignored the rude noise Makoto made, "I can probably make a living as a writer." "All I’ve ever wanted to do was cook or work with flowers. I wish I could write." "You do, in a sense - you’re my Muse. You inspire me. And you are cooking. One more semester of school and you’ll be an executive chef. Then you can open up a restaurant, just like you always wanted." "Yeah, "Makoto drawled as she stretched. "So you’d better write more prize-winning stories - I’ll need the money!" She yelped as Ami smacked her with a pillow. They quickly devolved into a series of shouts and blows with weapons of equal fluffiness. When they were at last exhausted from the struggle, they lay back, Ami’s head on Makoto’s chest, and reflected on their lives together. From the moment of that kiss, they had never looked back. Now, so close to their dreams, the fact that they would forever be Sailor Senshi, friends and guardians of the Princess of the Moon, and forever destined to fight for the Earth, was entirely irrelevant.
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