Kathy was a girl who consorted with plants. She had given up men long ago. During a few careful conversations with her vegan friend Susan, she ascertained an unspoken willingness to experiment, though outwardly her friend still upheld a semblance of resistance to such exotic interactions. That night Kathy invited Susan over to her house and softened her fears with a tasty wine made from plums just before their first stage of ripeness. It was very sweet and resulted easily in the desired clouding of Susan's inhibitions.

"It's so lovely," Kathy mused, "lying on the bed, the vine wrapping itself around you, sliding across the most sensitive parts of your body."

"But I couldn't kiss it," Susan stated anxiously, fighting off the desires confounding her determination.

"You'll learn to love that," Kathy countered in a sisterly voice full of encouragement. "Look, I'll show you." Without turning around, she lifted her forearm. The ivy awoke from its slumber in the pot, slowly extended itself, slinking down to her shoulder and into her hand, inching unambiguously towards her waiting mouth. Her tongue met the quivering leaves.

"Lesson one," stated Kathy with a mouth full of ivy, "stroke the leaves with your tongue - from bottom to top - as many as you can. When they begin to twitch in all different directions - they're yours to devour."

"No!" cried Susan, panicking, "I can't do that! I can't eat them without a dressing!"

Story 188