You slide a cool hand across my chest, toying with the thick hair before following it downward.

"Treasure trail..." you whisper, your breath warm and moist against my ear, "... that's what we called it."

You move your hand downward, teasing, toying with me, making me wait for it. Your manner tells me that I have to say something, say the magic word before you complete your motion. You wait for me to speak, and I grow frantic with the nearness to your goal.

I guess, desperate in my hope that I'm saying the right thing. "What... what do you mean, 'we'? Who was 'we'?"

"My Girl Scout troop," you whisper, as you move the last half foot downward.