Jennifer’s skin was the color of hot chocolate: a lush brown that Stephanie felt would look so much better covered in whipped cream…meaning, really, Steph’s ultra pale white skin. Together, they’d make the perfect antidote to the cold. But Jen was married…and straight…and terrified of coloring outside the lines. So…Steph stoked her own fire (it was rather cruel to do to herself, she had to admit) through innocent physical contact. Quick hugs, cheek kisses, shoulder pats. Playing with Jen’s hair, rubbing her shoulders, squeezing her knee, and massaging her feet. A multitude of little opportunities to touch the woman she’d grown to love, secretly, under the guise of simply being…