Jordan opened the door to her student room. She stepped inside so Sam could squeeze past her.

“Ta-da! My new digs! What do you think?”

Sam took in the tiny room: the single bed on the one side; the desk with a few shelfs and a small wardrobe on the other. She peered into the en-suite bathroom with its bare necessities: a shower cubicle, toilet and sink.

In the week she’d been here, Jordan thought she’d done a decent job of making the generic space her own. She’d put all her books on the shelfs; arranged her computer set-up; hung her cherished fight shot poster of boxing champion Nicola Adams; and displayed a collage of pictures of her family and friends. This included the series of photo booth snaps that she and Sam took together religiously every year. The only thing she hadn’t found a space for was her punching bag.

“It’s great. It’s got all you need. And it’s clean,” her friend said encouragingly, while her face expressed the apprehension she undoubtedly felt about living in a student room at the age of 27; the age she and Sam shared.

“Yeah, it’s one of the newer accommodation blocks, so at least it’s still in good condition,” Jordan tried to reassure herself as well as Sam. “I’m glad I could get in this last-minute. I guess the new undergrads are not in yet. I’m lucky, really. It was this or staying with my parents and sharing a room with Tasha. And she’s almost seven now, so you know she would have a real attitude about that. Plus, I would have to take a train in every day.”

Jordan realised she was reiterating the merits of her living situation, mostly for her own benefit; to help her justify her decision to come here.

Sam smiled. “I think it’s great, Jordan,” she said again, while she sat down on the bed.

Jordan sat down too. “I have to share the kitchen with six others. That’s not great, but I’ll just invite myself over to yours for dinner all the time.”

“Of course, I would expect nothing else! I’m just so stoked that you’re here! We’re in the same town again, for the first time since high school. This is going to be amazing!”

“Well, you should thank Professor Harrison. And the university for poaching her with a full professorship,” Jordan said. “In my field, when your supervisor relocates halfway through your PhD, you go with them!”

Jordan’s PhD supervisor was quite the academic rock star, and Jordan had been over the moon when she had agreed to supervise her research. Her guidance had been everything Jordan had hoped for and more; she always knew exactly what to say or ask to make Jordan go the extra mile.

Needless to say, it had come as a shock when she had told Jordan she was changing jobs. She had presented Jordan with her options: continue at the same university and be allocated a new supervisor, or join Professor Harrison at the new place and finish her PhD there. After some online research, Jordan had realised that this sort of thing happened quite often, especially now that pressure in academic jobs was rising.

For Jordan, the decision was a no-brainer, really. There wasn’t anyone as good as Professor Harrison, and Jordan didn’t want to risk a new supervisor disagreeing with her entire research plan. Besides, there was the added benefit that she would be closer to her fieldwork and to her best friend.

“If I ever meet her, I will be sure to thank her for bringing my friend to me,” Sam said. “How’s uni anyway? How are the other students?”

“I haven’t actually met any of them yet. I’ve obviously come in at a weird time in the academic year, so it’s not like there’s been any inductions or anything. Some of them are probably also away for the summer. And I’m usually there in the evenings, when no one is around.”

“Maybe you should try going in when they are actually around.” Sam grinned and shook her head warily.

“You know me; my brain only really kicks in around mid-afternoon! And even then I usually start working in Starbucks while I wait for the caffeine to reach every cell in my brain, before even showing my face in the department.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I remember that all too well. It drove the teachers insane how useless you were in the mornings. Ask you anything in last period, though, and you were a freaking genius. They could never figure that one out.”

Jordan laughed too. “They thought I wouldn’t amount to much. I just needed a different schedule; that was all.”

“I always believed in you,” Sam said with a grin.

Jordan chuckled. “Of course you did, Miss World. Was that before or after you had a crush on me?”

“Every. Single. Time… Do you have to bring that up every single time? I should never have told you.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Jordan teased her friend. “Besides, we might both still be chasing boys now if it weren’t for that.”

“What do you mean ‘still chasing boys’? I can’t recall we ever did much of that. Well, I certainly didn’t,” Sam countered.

“No, of course not. You were too busy mooning over me.” They both laughed.

“Speaking of chasing people,” Jordan continued, “where do you go here? What’s the scene like? Anything interesting?”

One downside of moving here was that in one fell swoop she’d abandoned most of her social life and all her favourite hang-outs.

“I don’t really do the scene… I think there’s one lesbian bar and a bunch of places for guys downtown, but I haven’t been,” Sam confessed.

“You’ve lived here for four years and you’ve never been to the one lesbian bar!? What’s wrong with you?”

Jordan wasn’t really all that surprised. Sam was never really that drawn to the meat market culture that invariably ensued in a small gay scene. She’d be a big hit there, though; Jordan was sure of that. With her dreadlocks and her huge green eyes with their intelligent gaze, and then the whole tomboy look she had going on; girls loved that.

“Where do you go then? It’s Friday night. Let’s go somewhere!” Surely, her friend did go out on a Friday night? “Oh wait,” she added, “as long as it’s not one of those old man joints you go to play pool.”

“They are not old man joints! But actually, on a Friday I usually join the guys from work at this cocktail place near the office. It’s a bit of a yuppie place but they have good cocktails and the bartender is nice.”

“Sounds great! Let’s go there,” Jordan said enthusiastically, eager to start exploring her new home town.

A bus ride later, they entered the bar and found a table towards the back of the room. Sam said a quick hello to her colleagues at another table and went to the bar to get some cocktails for her and Jordan. When she returned she said: “So, yeah, that’s her.” She nudged towards the bar.

Jordan looked in the indicated direction, slightly confused. That was who? The only person clearly in their line of sight was the bartender, who was facing away from them. The girl was busy putting bottles back on the shelves.

“The bartender?” Jordan asked, not quite sure what Sam wanted her to see.

Sam nodded and grinned. Jordan recognised that look. So that was what Sam meant when she said the bartender was ‘nice’: she was ‘capital N, Nice’ – nice to look at, and maybe more. Jordan turned her attention to the bar once again.

“She’s cute,” she said, a bit prematurely, as she could still only see the back of the girl.

The bartender had short, spiky hair that was bright pink. She was quite tall and had a good figure. She was wearing a black polo-shirt, with the logo and name of the bar. When the girl turned round, Jordan could finally see her face. She really was cute. Jordan now made out that her hair was actually blond with fierce pink highlights, which gave it an overall punky appearance. It fell in messy peaks over her forehead, ending just above her eyes. She had full lips and bright eyes that perused the whole bar; looking for anything she could do for her customers. She looked familiar. It was so out of context that it took Jordan a moment to realise that she had seen the bartender before.

“Hey, I know her!” She called out.

“What?” Sam gave her a baffled look. “You’ve been in town a week. How can you possibly know her?”

“Well, I don’t know her, know her. But I’ve seen her before. She goes to my new boxing gym.”

Jordan remembered seeing the girl there because of her notable appearance. Jordan had gone to the gym every morning the past week, joining in a group session on some mornings and sparring or working on the bag on others. She’d seen the girl in a group session, but she’d had been on the beginners’ side of the room, while Jordan trained with the advanced fighters.

“How do you already have a boxing gym here? You’ve been here a week!”

“Girl’s gotta train, Sam! I’ve got a fight coming up next weekend, remember? This place came highly recommended and my trainer hooked me up with one of the guys there.”

“Okay, fair enough. That makes sense. And she goes there too?” Sam asked incredulously, as if she couldn’t really picture the bartender as a boxer. Jordan had to agree that it didn’t quite fit the sweet face. But looks could be deceiving.

“Yeah, kickboxing training. I’ve only seen her twice, I think. In the mornings. When was it? Sunday definitely, and Tuesday maybe, or Wednesday?” Jordan waved her hand dismissively; it didn’t matter when she saw her. What mattered was that her friend clearly liked this girl and she had to find out more about this.

“Anyway, what do we know about her? Did you talk to her? Apart from ordering a drink, of course,” Jordan asked.

“Her name is Megan; I got that far. Other than that, I don’t know a hell of a lot.”

“But you are on it? I mean, you’re flirting with her?” Jordan couldn’t believe that was all there was to say. Sam was naturally charming, and a great flirt; if she had tried, it would have worked.

“I have tried… Trust me, I have. Every time I go over there, I try. The guys from work think it’s hilarious. They always make me get the drinks and quiz me after.”

“So, what happens?”

“Nothing happens,” Sam said with a hint of desperation. “It’s like she just doesn’t even notice that I’m flirting with her.”

Jordan looked at her sceptically and teased: “You mean, she’s immune to your charm?”

Sam laughed. “Looks like it… Either that, or she’s got a girlfriend and she’s trying to let me down easy.”

“Well, she is a cute bartender. She would get a lot of attention. Maybe she’s just so used to people flirting with her at work that she just shuts it all out,” Jordan offered.

“Or maybe she’s straight…,” she then added, not sure if she believed that herself. With that hair, her posture, and the way she moved, it was fair to assume she was interested in girls. But then, maybe it was just wishful thinking that she was.

“Yeah, I thought about that,” Sam replied, “but she does have a lot of the signs…”

When Jordan looked at her amusedly, Sam continued: “I know you don’t believe in the signs, but hear me out. Okay, the hair; for one. She has this really cool chunky watch; second. Sensible shoes, sneakers; third…”

“She works in a bar! She wouldn’t be wearing heels now, would she?” Jordan interrupted.

“Okay, okay. Same goes for her clothes, I guess: bar uniform shirt with comfy trousers. But she’s got no girly jewellery or anything; no makeup.”

“Again, jewellery would just get in the way working here,” Jordan debunked.

“Short fingernails,” Sam said triumphantly, as if that was irrefutable evidence.

“Hate to break it to you, but she’d have to keep them short for boxing anyway. And it is probably more hygienic working in a bar too.”

“Okay, fine… I give up. That’s all I’ve got. Like I said, she doesn’t respond to flirting or eye contact, so that doesn’t tell me anything either. No give-aways in our brief chats…” Sam sighed. “What do you think? Straight?”

“I wouldn’t think she’s straight,” Jordan said honestly, still studying the girl from their safe distance. “Good old social media doesn’t tell you anything?”

“Her Facebook profile is like fort Knox. Unless I friend her, which would be a bit weird.”

“Yeah, maybe… Tell you what, why don’t I see what I can find out at the gym? Sus her out?” Living in the same town now, Jordan was pleased that she was finally in a position where she could something like this for her friend.

“Sure. If you think you can get further than me,” Sam said sceptically. “Anything that helps me get to know her would be welcome, or anything to tell me there’s no point trying.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I like a challenge,” Jordan said, already thinking about her game plan.

Megan huffed at her strapping. Too tight, again. She could never get it right the first time, let alone getting it the same on both hands. She started unravelling her left hand to start over. At least she still had some time before the lesson started.

“It helps if you spread your fingers while you wrap it,” a voice near her said. Megan looked up to see the owner of the voice smiling at her. “It prevents it from being too tight when you get to the end,” the girl continued.

Megan smiled back shyly. “Thanks.”

That girl would know. Megan had seen her a few times in the past couple of weeks. She was new to the ‘Fight Fit’ gym, but she wasn’t new to the sport; she was a really good kickboxer. Definitely what Megan would call a ‘career’, a reference from ‘The Hunger Games’, meaning someone’s who’s born to do what they’re doing: fanatic and professional.

Megan had to admit that this career had drawn her attention from the moment she’d first seen her. Megan had been a little distracted during the trainings in which the girl had been in the same room. Apart from her obvious fighting skills, she was striking: short, but lean and muscular, with dark skin and a large mob of beautiful curly hair. She was cheerful and her booming laugh could frequently be heard across the room to the beginners’ area. Megan had often looked over to see Jordan grin from ear to ear, her laugh lighting up her whole face.

Sensing that the girl was still watching her, Megan looked up again. She noticed that her usually wild hair was now tied neatly into cornrows, and – Megan was shocked to see – she had a black eye. Her left eye sported a thick dark band underneath, and the area around it was puffy. It looked fresh.

Was she alright? Megan contemplated whether to say anything. The girl had undoubtedly seen her looking at it, so it seemed rude to ignore it. But what if something bad had happened to her and she didn’t want to discuss it with a stranger? After all, Megan didn’t even know her.

Despite herself, she asked: “Are you okay?” She gave an apologetic smile, indicating it was okay if she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Oh this?” The girl pointed nonchalantly at her face. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I was in a fight.”

Megan tried to keep the shock she felt off her face. That must have been a hell of a fight. She’d seen a few brawls break out – that was inevitable when you worked in a bar – but usually the shiners resulting from that weren’t quite this spectacular. Also, it was usually the guys breaking into fights for no apparent reason. What kind of places did this girl hang out in?

Megan must have been unsuccessful in hiding her feelings, because the girl chuckled and added: “In the ring, I meant. Boxing…” She shadowboxed to illustrate her point.

“Oh…” Megan guessed she was probably equally bad at keeping her relief from showing now.

“How did it go?” She then asked, regretting it instantly. It looked like it hadn’t gone so well.

“It went quite well. I won with a technical knockout.” The girl grinned as if to say that was nothing too.

“Oh…” Megan said again, cursing herself for her lack of eloquence. What on earth was a technical knockout? “I just thought…” She gestured at her face. “… That maybe it hadn’t.”

“You should have seen the other girl.” The girl smiled and then winced in pain. “Ouch! I tried to wink. Clearly, I can’t do that right now.” She laughed her booming laugh. It was contagious and Megan had to laugh too.

“Do you do fights often?” She then asked, intrigued.

“Every now and then. Just boxing though. I have only been kickboxing for a few years. That’s just for fun.”

Megan suddenly felt small and insignificant next to this confident woman, who must be at least a few years younger than her. She’d only been kickboxing for a few years and that was just for fun? Megan had only been at it for almost a year and she considered it quite serious business.

As if she’d read her thoughts, the girl asked: “You do kickboxing, right?”

“Yeah,” Megan said. “I’m a beginner, though.”

“You look like you know what you’re doing.” The girl flinched. “Ouch, I did it again! Stupid.”

Megan laughed. Why did she keep trying to wink at her? And what did she just say? Did that mean she’d been watching Megan? That was embarrassing. Megan felt like she spent a lot of time just trying to coordinate her hands and feet to move at the right time.

She said shyly: “Thanks. Nothing compared to you, though.”

“I’ve been doing it since I was 15, so that’s not a fair comparison,” the girl said kindly. “Hey, what days are you here?”

“Usually Wednesday mornings and Sunday mornings, for the all levels kickboxing lessons,” Megan replied, before asking: “Why?” Why was this girl still talking to her? Why was she so interested in Megan’s schedule?

“No reason. I’ll probably bump into you again then.” The girl smiled and picked her bag off the floor. “Well, I better get started. I’m just doing some bag work today.”

“What days are you here?” Megan asked quickly.

The thought that she was going to bump into this girl regularly was mildly distressing. That was probably the end of her kickboxing education. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get so distracted that she’d be knocked down by her classmates. Speaking of embarrassment. The least she could do was mentally prepare for the days she knew the girl would be here.

“Every day, pretty much. Always in the morning. Unless I have a meeting or something.” She turned away.

Megan had so many questions. She was here every day? Didn’t she work in the mornings? And what meetings? What did she do?

The girl was walking away now, so clearly the conversation was over. When she reached the door that led into the training hall, she turned round and said: “I’m Jordan, by the way.”

Leaning against the door post, she waited for Megan to respond. She didn’t seem to care one bit about the other people waiting for their lesson to begin, who were now all staring at both of them.

Megan mumbled her name, a little embarrassed to be the centre of attention.

“Nice to meet you, Megan,” Jordan said cheerily and at that she disappeared through the doorway.

Megan couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Why had this super sexy, bad-ass boxer girl just out of the blue struck up a conversation with her?

As was to be expected, Megan’s lesson was a bit of a write-off. From where she was training with the other beginners, she could see into the next room, where they kept some gym and boxing equipment for individual or personal training. In that room, Jordan had started warming up by jumping rope: not just straight-forward swinging the thing and jumping at the right time – which was already enough of a challenge for Megan – the girl knew all the fancy swings and cross-overs, double-speeds, whatever it was all called.

Enhanced by a sexy sheen of perspiration from her warm-up, she’d then started her bag work, punching and kicking as if her life depended on it, alternating between fast and hard moves. And as if that wasn’t enough distraction, she’d finished by lifting weights, flexing her sexy arm muscles and – while facing away from Megan – showing off an intricate web of muscles in her back and shoulders, half of which Megan never even realised existed.

What they’d done in her own lesson, Megan couldn’t say. She sure hoped Jordan hadn’t been watching her too. Megan had stumbled through every move today, to the great annoyance of her training partner.

When she got home after her training, Megan was still thinking about Jordan. She wondered what had brought the gorgeous boxer to ‘Fight Fit’. Who was she? Was she new in town?

She opened the browser on her phone and searched: ‘Jordan boxing amateur fight’. Against her expectations, she got some promising search results. The search engine had clearly taken her location into account: she found an article about an amateur boxing match in the area last Friday night, in which one ‘Jordan Wells’ had competed. There was even a picture. Megan was elated when she recognised the girl, having the upper hand even in the picture. She had a look of pure concentration while hitting her opponent with a right cross.

Further down, there was another picture of her, proudly holding up a trophy. She looked great: grinning broadly; her eye not quite swollen yet; one muscular arm extended in the air; her six pack clearly visible between the boxing shorts and the short sports top. Megan sighed deeply. She hesitated and then saved the photo to her phone; there was nothing wrong with some secret admiring, was there?

Encouraged, Megan changed her search to ‘Jordan Wells boxing’ and scrolled through the results. Most were mentions of fights she’d been in – there were quite a few – and reports of these fights. The girl had clearly been modest when she said she fought ‘every now and then’: she was well-known in the amateur boxing scene and had won several titles. There were a few pictures, many clearly from some years ago.

The next link Megan clicked was a profile piece on her from five years ago. ‘A flyweight to keep an eye on’, a sub-caption said. According to this article, Jordan came from a family of boxers: her father had been a professional boxer but had now retired from the sport. Her two older brother were both well-known names in the amateur boxing circuit too. It was unsurprisingly then, the article stated, that Jordan would follow in her father’s and brothers’ footsteps. There was a picture of her with her two brothers and her father, all of them in boxing gloves posing proudly. At the time of writing, Jordan had just won her first amateur boxing title.

Megan whistled between her teeth. Impressive, and just a tad intimidating. This girl may have been friendly to her – and she may be sexy as hell – but she was definitely out of her league. She resisted the urge to look Jordan up on Facebook. If she did that, she’d surely show up in her suggested friends, and Jordan would know Megan had been snooping her. Megan stared at the picture she’d saved; Jordan was so far out of her league, she had a league of her own.

Jordan whistled as she walked into the gym. Today was Sunday, so Sam’s heartthrob Megan should be here again. Jordan was pleased with her intel gathering so far. She had no conclusive evidence of her orientation or her relationship status yet, but she’d done some groundwork; made first contact.

Sam had been right in saying that Megan had not been easy to gauge. Obviously, Jordan wasn’t going to lay it on thickly, but she’d figured some light flirting to test the waters couldn’t hurt. Megan hadn’t responded to that at all. The fact that Jordan hadn’t been able to wink at her with her silly black eye probably didn’t help either.

Today, it was time for stage two. She spotted Megan near the counter, putting on her strapping. She was nearly done with her second hand.

“How’s that feeling now? Did you use my tip on spreading your fingers?” Jordan said as she approached Megan. The double meaning wasn’t lost on her, but she was certain it would be lost on Megan.

Megan looked up and smiled. “I did. It feels much better now. Not so tight.”

“Great. Anything to keep a girl’s hands in good shape.” There she went again; she couldn’t help it.

Jordan got her own strapping out of her bag and started wrapping her hands. She used her neon yellow wraps today, which matched her shirt. One might as well look the part. She saw Megan watching her.

“You make it look so easy…,” the girl said enviously.

“Years of practice…,” Jordan replied, as she finished her first hand in the exact same spot as usual, the Everlast logo facing up. She started on her second hand with just as much ease.

“Hey, your eye is looking much better,” Megan burst out suddenly.

Jordan grinned. “Yeah. I guess it would still be a bit green or yellow but you can’t see that on my skin anyway, so it looks like I’m all fixed!”

As people started going into the main hall, Megan moved to join them. “Well, see you later then,” she said with a little wave.

“Hold up, I’m coming.”

Jordan had decided to join the kickboxing group sessions more regularly. There was plenty she could still learn from the instructors and it was a nice change from her individual training and sparring with her coach. Most importantly, it gave her a chance to find out more about Megan.

“You’re joining this one?” Megan seemed surprised.

“Yeah, of course. Why not?”

She lined up next to Megan for the start of the lesson and then jogged off at her own pace for the warm-up. No need to keep the poor girl occupied the whole lesson. She wasn’t here to be interrogated after all.

After the warm-up and stretching, Jordan caught up with Megan again. “Hey, do you want to partner with me today?”

“Erm… I usually partner with one of the other beginners…” Megan seemed taken aback.

“You can’t learn as much from them. It’s always better to work with someone who’s a bit more advanced than you.”

“But you won’t be able to learn anything from me… I don’t want to hold you back.”

Jordan was surprised by Megan’s reluctance. Why did she worry about that? “Nonsense. You look fit. I’m sure you can keep me occupied.”

She winked without thinking about it. Pleased that it didn’t hurt her anymore, she exclaimed: “Hey, I can wink again!”

Megan smiled and blushed. Jordan noticed for the first time that she had two little dimples that appeared in her cheeks when she smiled. She really was adorable. No wonder Sam liked her.

“Just don’t hit my eye, okay?” Jordan said with a grin, deciding to take Megan’s silence as a consent. Megan responded with a look that said she wouldn’t even dream of it.

As Megan walked off in front of her, Jordan noticed that she did have a bit of a lesbian swagger. Sam would certainly consider that a sign, but Jordan wouldn’t exactly call that irrefutable proof. Megan turned round and blushed again as she saw Jordan looking at her. Jordan smiled at her and caught up with her, pulling her gloves on as she went.

The lesson kicked off with bag work: starting with single punches and building up to simple combinations. Jordan watched Megan as she punched and kicked. She missed some of the speed and smoothness in her combinations that came with years of practice, but her technique was good and she had good power.

“Next time, bring your fist back to your chin after that jab. This bag is not going to hit you back, but an opponent will,” Jordan said, getting distracted from her mission to find out more about Megan and slipping into trainer mode instead.

Megan proved to be a quick learner. She followed Jordan’s pointers precisely and asked for clarification when she wasn’t sure. They switched roles and Megan seemed a bit taken aback by the force of Jordan’s blows.

“Sorry, is that alright?” Jordan asked her, after the bag had bowled straight into her at Jordan’s first punch.

“Yeah, sorry. I just need to hold it better,” Megan said with a pained expression. “The other beginners don’t punch this hard.” She rubbed her upper arm where the bag, or her possibly her own glove, had hit her.

As they moved on, Jordan was pleased to see Megan watching her closely. Paying attention to some else’s technique was half the work.

“Remember what I said about the power for your low kicks coming from your hips? See where I start mine? Here, from the back. And then I spin on my front foot to let that swing all the way through.” She demonstrated slowly.

“Hmmm,” Megan mumbled, her gaze firmly on Jordan’s legs. Jordan demonstrated one more time, encouraged by Megan’s keen attention to her instructions.

The lesson flew by and, despite the fact that she hadn’t found out more about Megan, Jordan was pleased that they had partnered together. She liked teaching the other girl and she had the impression that Megan had quite enjoyed it too.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now will you partner with me more often?” Jordan asked Megan, as she pulled off her gloves.

Megan smiled and said: “Maybe.” That was good enough; she’d take that as a yes.

As the next group streamed into the gym, Jordan lost sight of Megan when she was gathering her things. She figured the girl was probably in the changing rooms already. Jordan was heading straight out today, having decided to take advantage of the glorious sunshine by doing some agility drills in the nearby park. She would have liked to have said goodbye to Megan, but she’d see her again next time.

Leaving the gym, Jordan was surprised to see Megan outside, talking to someone on a motorbike. Some bull dyke, by the looks of it: tall and skinny, leather jacket, aviators; definitely too cool for school, this one. Who was she? Megan’s girlfriend? There’s was no question what team that one played for; she was a hundred-footer. So that would mean Megan was into girls too. But taken, unfortunately.

Jordan hang back for a moment and watched them. They didn’t seem overly romantic with each other. Maybe they were just friends? She couldn’t be sure. It could be a romantic gesture, to wait for your girlfriend outside the gym; take her off on a motorbike adventure? You wouldn’t do that with a friend, would you?

Jordan walked up to them, carefully scrutinising the biker chick as she approached.

“See you next week, Megan,” she said nonchalantly, while she threw another examining look at the stranger. Was she a threat to Sam’s affections?

The woman grinned cheekily at her, oozing confidence. She was attractive too. If she was indeed Megan’s girlfriend – Jordan hated to admit – Sam had her work cut out for her.

While Jordan walked towards the park, she shot her friend a message: [Partnered with your girl Megan today… Chatted to her a bit more but still don’t know for sure if she’s gay.]

She contemplated adding that she was quite impressed with Megan’s kickboxing skills, but Sam probably wouldn’t be overly interested in that. Her friend got back to her immediately.

Time to tell her the other part: [I did see her chatting to some butch on a motorbike afterwards :S Could be her girlfriend? Not sure…]

Sam was still on her phone: [Hmmm damn… Did it look like it could be? What was she like?]

Immediately after came another message: [At least that would mean she’s gay… Silver linings :)]

Jordan chuckled. What was she like? How could she put this diplomatically? [Hundred-footer. Androgynous type. She was kinda hot, tbh. But so are you! You could totally take her But maybe it’s not even her gf. It’s not like they were making out or anything. Could be just a friend…]

Sam replied: [And if she has gay friends…]

Jordan could almost see the radars spinning in her friend’s head. Always analysing the situation. Always hoping for the best. In this case, hoping that Megan having gay friends meant that she was gay too.

Jordan tried to ground her: [Then she’s definitely not homophobic… Silver linings :)]

She followed up with another message: [Anyway, I’ll keep at it. In the meantime, you may want to see what you can do to increase your cool factor. The other chick has a motorbike, just saying… ;)]

Sam sent back a crying laughing emoticon.

Megan sat down heavily at a window seat in the almost empty bus. Her head was sore and she was regretting her decision to go to the gym this morning. It had been easy to be tough and dedicated before going out to celebrate passing her exam last night. She’d made a deal with herself that she could go out, if she’d still go to the training this morning. After all, she’d already missed Wednesday’s training because of her exams.

It would be bad for her fitness, she’d told herself. What she didn’t quite want to admit was that she also didn’t want to go a whole week without seeing Jordan. Now, her hangover pounding, she wasn’t sure if seeing Jordan in this state was the best idea.

To make matters worse, she had to go meet up with Riley for coffee after the training. Last night, it had seemed like a great idea to meddle in her friend Rowan’s affairs, and show Riley – the girl Rowan was clearly meant to be with – the way to the stoic mechanic’s heart. Megan didn’t completely regret sending the invite to Riley, but she hadn’t expected the girl to want to meet up so quickly; the morning after. Megan hadn’t even had time to get it straight in her head what she wanted to tell the girl.

She tried to replay last night’s conversation with Rowan in her head. It was obvious that she and Riley liked each other, but Rowan wasn’t going to admit that. That was clearly throwing a spanner in the works, so she’d have to tell Riley about Rowan’s commitment issues, her history with Diana, her silly self-imposed rules. The girl could then use that to turn the situation around.

Megan marvelled at how clear it was to her what needed to happen in Rowan and Riley’s love lives, while her own was still such a mess; or rather, non-existing. Yes, she had a crush on her gorgeous kickboxing partner, but that seemed to be going nowhere at all.

She and Jordan had been partnering once a week for a few weeks now, but she had no idea what Jordan thought about her, if she thought anything about her at all. The girl was always friendly to her; every week they had a nice time chatting. However, it mostly seemed to be about the exercises they were doing, instructions to improve her technique, advice on boxing equipment. She still didn’t know anything about Jordan; nor had she told her much about herself. How could she? A boxing gym was hardly the time and place to divulge your life story or ask personal questions.

Megan had also enjoyed the occasional brief touches that were inevitable in combat sports, but she couldn’t say if there was more there. She didn’t even know if Jordan was gay.

And the more they repeated their little routine, the harder it became to turn it into something more. They were in a vicious circle, spiralling deeper and deeper into that dreaded friend zone; if they could even be considered friends. How could she break that cycle? Why was it this complicated to just meet someone and fall in mutual love?

Last night, Rowan had told her to flirt with Jordan, to show her that she was interested. That was easy for Rowan to say; every word out of her mouth was naturally flirtatious. Megan had no idea how to flirt, let alone with someone she actually liked. She considered it a great achievement when she could keep up a normal conversation with Jordan without falling apart swooning.

She pictured herself walking into the gym today, set on breaking the cycle. What would Rowan do? Pin her against the wall and kiss her? Tell her that she thought she was hot, and would she like to see her motorbike? Megan chuckled. Even in her head, Rowan was a bit of a cliché sometimes. But whatever she did, it worked for her.

That wouldn’t work for Megan, though. She could never pull off something like that, and she wouldn’t want to. She had to find her own way. ‘Flirt with her, let her know you’re interested.’ Right.

Still deep in thought, Megan walked into the gym. There was no one in the waiting area but she heard noises from the main training hall. She was late; they had already started. Cursing herself, Megan rushed in, dumped her bag and quickly grabbed her strapping. Now she’d have to put that on while she was running, as if it wasn’t challenging enough already.

Someone came running up to her and tapped the back of her head with a perfectly wrapped hand, today in royal blue. “Hey, there you are!”

Guess who. Did she sound excited to see Megan? That was probably just in Megan’s head.

“I didn’t even realise I was late until I got here.”

Jordan kept running beside her, instead of jogging off at her own – almost double – speed, as usual. “Well, at least you made it. I missed you on Wednesday.”

Megan’s heart fluttered. Did she mean she personally missed her? Or that her absence was noted? The latter was better than nothing, she guessed. It was probably that. They didn’t partner on Wednesdays because Jordan did her own training on those days, so it wouldn’t really have mattered to her if Megan was there or not.

Megan struggled through the warm-up. Her head was pounding and she had no energy. At least she wasn’t so hungover that she had to worry about being sick, at least not yet. She’d take it easy today to make sure of that. That would be one certain way to ruin her chances with Jordan, forever.

Of all days, Jordan had chosen today to stick by her side, cheerfully making small-talk. Megan wheezed her responses between press-ups and jumping jacks. When, at last, the signal came to stop running and start stretching, Megan leaned forward, catching her breath.

“Are you alright?” Jordan asked, still right there to witness her in all her weakness.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute. It’s just my head…”

Megan looked up and realised everyone else was already stretching in pairs. She panicked. This part was always done with whoever you happened to be standing next to at the end of the warm-up. That person had never been Jordan before.

Jordan was now looking at her expectantly. “Do you want to start?” She offered.

Megan nodded. This was more than she was prepared for, but there was no way out. Jordan knelt so that Megan could put her foot on her shoulder. She then came up slightly until Megan indicated it was high enough. Just what she needed: her legs spread wide open, her sweaty foot right by Jordan’s face, Jordan’s hand on her love handle to support her. She breathed out slowly, fighting the panic.

Jordan looked at her with a concerned expression. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. It will pass. I just need to take it a bit easy today.” Megan didn’t dare to look at her. Thankfully, it was time to rotate to the side, so she was preoccupied with that.

Jordan gave her a quizzical look and then laughed. “Holy shit. Are you hungover?” She whispered. When Megan didn’t respond, she continued: “What did you get up to last night? Wild party?”

Megan rotated her leg to the back, realising full on well that her butt was on display, right in front of Jordan face. If she could just be swallowed by the earth now, that would be great.

“I was celebrating that I passed my exam. That’s also why I wasn’t here on Wednesday: exams.”

“Oh congratulations! So you’re a student?” Jordan didn’t sound overly surprised. Usually people were; they just didn’t expect a 32 year old to be doing their undergrad.

“Yeah, I went back to uni two years ago. I dropped out the first time round, but I figured I give it another go.” She put her leg down and propped the other on Jordan’s shoulder. “Older and wiser now, and all that. I’ve realised how important a degree is.”

“Tell me about it. So what’s your degree?”

“Sociology, second year Bachelor’s now.”

“No way! At the uni here?”

“Yeah, why?” Megan asked, wondering why that was the part Jordan seemed surprised about.

“I go there too! Criminology department; same building. Mind you, only for the past two months or so.”

Jordan carefully put Megan’s other stretched leg down. Megan knelt to receive Jordan’s foot. She got up slowly and waited for Jordan to stop her. She didn’t. Megan was shocked to see that the shorter girl could stretch her leg up all the way to Megan’s shoulder while she stood completely upright.

“Wow, you’re very flexible…,” she said before she could stop herself. Inappropriate thoughts flooded her brain. She felt her cheeks heating up and knew she was blushing.

Jordan laughed loudly. “Yeah, it comes in handy. Trust me.”

Megan believed that. She didn’t want to think about all the ways in which that would come in handy. She tried not to look at Jordan, who was right in front of her, too close for comfort, hard to avoid.

“Are you doing your Master’s?” She asked quickly, trying to change the topic. Jordan didn’t seem the typical undergrad age either; better to overestimate her than to underestimate her.

“PhD,” Jordan replied simply, while rotating her leg to the side, still stretched up fully.

Of course she was doing a PhD; as if she wasn’t perfect enough without being academically gifted too. Megan swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions under control. It was as if someone had engineered her perfect girlfriend and put her right in front of Megan as a test: here you go, all you have to do is get her; good luck. Megan felt more intimidated than ever.

“I’ve never seen you on campus,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jordan rotated again, now facing away from Megan with her leg stretched back. Megan couldn’t help staring at her perfect rear, right in front of her. She liked this part, now that the roles were reversed. She tried to block out more thoughts of Jordan stretched out like this in different contexts.

“I’m mostly there in the evenings. I like it when it’s quiet in the department. Plus, my brain doesn’t really work before mid-afternoon anyway.” She laughed.

Megan was sure that Jordan’s brain ‘not working’ was still more potent than other people’s at full capacity.

“During the day I mostly hang out in a coffee place somewhere, or in the library,” Jordan added. She switched legs.

“Oh, that explains it. I’m only there during the day. I work in the evenings,” Megan said.

“Where do you work?”

“I have two bar jobs,” Megan started. She realised that this could be a chance to try and get a little more information. “I work at ‘Shake ‘n’ Stir’, this cocktail place downtown, and at ‘Velvet’, the lesbian bar.”

She kept a close look on Jordan’s face as she said this. Did she see a little twinkle in Jordan’s eyes when she mentioned Velvet? Megan wasn’t sure there had been any reaction. It was too subtle; she needed more.

“Have you ever been?” She added quickly. Obviously, she would have seen Jordan if she’d been there on a night she’d been working, but she could hardly ask: ‘Hey, are you a lesbian, by the way?’

“I think I’ve been to the cocktail place… I definitely haven’t been to Velvet.”

This still didn’t tell Megan anything. Definitely haven’t been there, as in ‘I would never go there because I’m not a lesbian?’ or ‘I didn’t know it existed, sounds interesting’? This was so frustrating. What would Rowan do now?

“It’s a nice hangout. You should come by sometime,” Megan said, without daring to look at Jordan.

If the girl was shocked to be invited to a lesbian haunt, she didn’t show it. “I will,” she replied, causing Megan’s insides to flutter excitedly.

The rest of the training was a blur to Megan. She was riding her high, unreasonably proud of herself for inviting Jordan to come to Velvet. Of course, it wasn’t an explicit invitation and there was no guarantee that she would come, but it was great progress. Megan realised it also didn’t necessarily mean her crush was gay, but there was a fair chance. At the very least, she wasn’t opposed to hanging out with lesbians. Megan would take that with both hands.

After the training, Megan hang back a little. She had to meet Riley straight after, so she had to shower and change at the gym. She didn’t really want to be in the changing room at the same time as Jordan, having to undress in front of her. She gave Jordan a head start and then went in. It was empty, apart from Jordan’s clothes lying on a bench. The Sunday classes were never really busy and most of the others were guys. The few other girls that were there must shower at home, like Megan usually did.

She heard one of the showers running. Jordan was in there, naked. The thought made Megan nervous. She quickly got into one of the other cubicles and undressed. She hated showering at the gym. She never knew where to take her clothes off, where to put them, when to put them back on. She didn’t particularly want to undress in the outside changing room, in front of other people, but her clothes always ended up getting wet inside the cubicle.

After an awkward wash, she emerged from the cubicle fully dressed, apart from her shoes and socks. Jordan was still there, wearing nothing but her underwear. Megan looked away quickly, partly to respect the girl’s privacy and partly because she didn’t trust her own reaction.

Jordan looked at her with surprise: “You showered here today?”

Flirt a little, let her know you’re interested. Megan still heard the echo in her head. Encouraged by her earlier success, she quickly said: “You seem happy about that.”

Jordan smiled broadly and said: “Maybe I am.” She didn’t seem to mind standing nearly naked in front of Megan, her gorgeous body fully on display. It was seriously distracting.

“I usually run home afterwards, so I shower at home. I can’t today; I have somewhere I need to be. You must have thought I was just a stinky person. I mean, not that you would have been thinking of me…,” Megan stammered. She cursed herself. Flirt-mode gone, awkwardness increased to 300%: back to normal.

Jordan chuckled. “Maybe I have,” she said, before turning away to start getting dressed.

Megan felt her face flush. She was sure she was bright red now. What did she mean by that? How could she just say something like that and then casually get dressed, at her leisure.

Getting distracted from her analysis, Megan couldn’t help staring at Jordan’s chiselled body. She could see where her body confidence came from. Jordan appeared to have well-defined muscles everywhere, and there wasn’t one part of her lean body that had any excess fat or squishy bits. So this was what boxing every day gave you. Megan couldn’t bring up the discipline to do that herself, but if she had a girlfriend who did… She quickly dismissed the thought; she was getting ahead of herself.

Jordan was wearing black lacy hipster bottoms that framed and embellished her round butt like a piece of art. Megan felt her heart start beating faster as her eyes traced the perfect curves. Jordan’s bra was plain and red, and didn’t match the knickers.

Despite herself, Megan took in every inch of the girl’s body. Staring felt naughty, but she couldn’t help it; her eyes were magnetically drawn to the smooth dark skin. She felt her own body respond; that familiar warm tingling feeling between her thighs, calling attention to itself, confirming her attraction to this girl. She was lost.

While Jordan still faced away from her, Megan gazed in the mirror in front of her to check out the pronounced abs she’d only seen in the cherished picture on her phone, and the soft tops of her modest breasts, visible over the edge of her bra.

Mirror! The realisation came way too late. Megan quickly raised her eyes to Jordan’s face in the reflection. Jordan met her gaze and grinned amusedly. Busted. Megan looked away in shock. How much had she seen? Had she seen the whole of Megan’s ogle fest? This was so embarrassing! She wished she could run off, but she still hadn’t put her shoes on because she was too busy being a perv.

“So, what’s next then?” Jordan startled Megan with her sudden question, breaking the awkward silence.

“What?” She didn’t mean between them, did she? What was next after Megan shamelessly checking her out?

“You said you had somewhere you needed to be. Where are you off to?”

Megan sighed with relief. “I’m meeting someone for coffee. A girl I know. We made plans last night.” Why did she have to say all that? Why did it matter who she was meeting and when the plans were made? Stupid.

“Oh really? Does that have anything to do with you partying so hard last night?” Jordan seemed very entertained by her awkwardness.

“Yes… No! Sort of…” It wasn’t really related, but if she hadn’t had a few drinks, she probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to message Riley.

“Oh, that sounds intriguing,” Jordan laughed.

“It’s a long story,” Megan mumbled, ready to be done with this conversation, before she embarrassed herself even more.

“I have time…” Jordan winked at her, yet again. That was her signature move, it seemed. She clearly had no idea what she was doing to Megan.

“I don’t,” Megan said, a bit more abrupt than she intended, while quickly pulling on her shoes.

“Right. You’re meeting a girl.” Jordan said this with such a suggestive grin that Megan heard herself responding: “It’s not like that!”

“Like what?” Jordan countered, still grinning.

This girl was infuriating. It wasn’t like what she had been insinuating: like a date. That was what she’d been insinuating, wasn’t it? Megan knew she was getting hot and flustered again.

“I have to go,” she said. She grabbed her bag.

When she got to the door, she hesitated. She’d made so much progress today with Jordan. She’d also embarrassed herself to no end, but still; something told her she couldn’t leave it like this. There were some indications that Jordan might be gay, weren’t there? She sure didn’t seem to mind when Megan was checking her out. Rowan had been convinced that Jordan was gay; she had even thought she was into Megan. Rowan would tell Megan to bring it home now; take the shot; score the goal. What was the worst that could happen?

“Hey, can I have your number? Just in case…,” Megan asked. Just in case what? You idiot. “Maybe we can meet for a coffee on campus sometime, or something?” She added. That was better.

Jordan didn’t respond straightaway. She seemed to hesitate. Megan felt her nerve crumble. Did she have it all wrong? Jordan wasn’t gay? She was in a relationship? She wasn’t into her? She thought Megan was just some creepy perv that was now definitely crossing a boundary?

Megan was still riding this wave of panic when Jordan said: “Sure. Give me your phone.”

Was she sure? Why did she hesitate? Megan handed over her phone with trembling hands and watched as Jordan added her contact information. Was that even her real number? Megan reprimanded herself for thinking this way. There was only one way to find out. In a while, when her nerves and her self-esteem had recovered…

The message Jordan had been expecting came a few days after she’d given Megan her number. She stared at the screen, wondering what to do.

There was nothing implied in the message, no flirting; not even a kiss at the end of it. Everything to suggest they’d only be meeting up as friends. But Jordan had her suspicions that Megan may have different intentions.

At their last training together, Jordan had finally made some headway in getting to know Megan a little better. After weeks of being a closed book, Megan had revealed that she was a student, and – the whopper – that she worked at a lesbian bar. Of course, this in itself was no guarantee that she was a lesbian, but in the space of a single training, she’d given Jordan plenty of reason to belief that she was.

At first Jordan had been happy with all her newfound knowledge, and had been looking forward to telling Sam all about it. Then she’d caught Megan checking her out, to her great amusement. One more point for the gay theory, and possibly a sign she was single.

A thought had suddenly hit Jordan when Megan had stammered through the few minutes following that, clearly mortified to have been found staring. The realisation had been lying just below the surface, waiting for the right moment to jump out at Jordan. Was Megan attracted to her? In that moment, she’d replayed their interactions in her head. Megan hadn’t been very obvious, but it was possible. She had told Jordan to come to Velvet. Was that more than a casual promotion of her bar?

When Megan had asked for her number, her suspicions were confirmed. Megan liked her. That wasn’t part of the plan. She was supposed to fall for Sam. Jordan had hesitated to give her number; it would give Megan the wrong idea. However, when she saw the disappointment in Megan’s face, she’d caved, feeling like a terrible friend to Sam.

What made things worse was that, if Jordan was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that she was quite enamoured with the pink-haired cutie herself. It had started as a keen understanding of Sam’s affection for the girl, but it had quickly begun to live a life of its own as she saw more of Megan.

It was the little things that made her so adorable: the way she still struggled with her strapping; the way she beat herself up over awkward things she said; the way she smiled; the way she blushed, all the time; those cute dimples in her cheeks.

Jordan had pushed these thoughts away and focused on her mission. She’d be more than happy if Megan and Sam ended up together, she’d told herself. She would get over this little crush – if it should even be called that – in no time.

But now that she knew that Megan liked her, not Sam, things had gotten significantly more complicated. Thoughts of what could be were becoming more persistent and harder to push away. Moreover, her mind seemed intent on calling bullshit on all her earlier thoughts: would she really be happy if Megan and Sam were a couple? Would she truly get over her crush?

Clearly the plan had backfired. It had taken its course for too long. Jordan blamed herself. She should have been quicker about getting the information and finding a way to bring Sam to Megan’s attention. But how could she do that now? How could she rectify this situation? She could hardly accept Megan’s invite and send Sam to have coffee with her instead.

There was still the question if Megan had a girlfriend. Jordan could use the coffee date to get a conclusive answer on that; it would be much easier to bring that up over coffee than over a left hook.

She reprimanded herself. Of course Megan didn’t have a girlfriend; she was asking her out, after all. But that could still be just as friends, couldn’t it? It wasn’t certain that she wanted more. Surely she was with that handsome biker chick Jordan had seen her with? Who else could she be, but Megan’s girlfriend?

And if Megan had a girlfriend, she wouldn’t end up with either her or Sam. They could both forget about her; their friendship would be safe; Megan was happy. It was the best scenario for all. All Jordan had to do was find out for sure that this was the case. This wasn’t just an excuse to accept the invitation. They would just meet up once: Jordan would find out the truth, be casual and stick to friend level. That could work, she convinced herself.

She opened her diary on her phone. She’d entered in capital letters ‘FIELDWORK’ across Friday, Saturday and Sunday. She sighed. That was right. She was away this weekend, cramming in a record number of interviews in two different places. She was disappointed. Not only could she not meet up with Megan on Friday, she’d also miss the training on Sunday. But at least it gave her some time to get her head in the game.

She typed a reply: [I can’t this week. I’m in prison.] She added ‘Next week?’ but deleted it. Was she really sure she wanted to do this? She didn’t want to lead Megan on. She hit send.

Almost immediately her phone informed her that Megan was typing. After a moment, her status switched back to ‘Online’, following by ‘Megan is typing’. This cycle repeated itself a few times. What was she doing?

At last, her reply came, which did not warrant this much typing time: [Visiting someone?]

What was she talking about? Jordan reread her own message and immediately understood Megan’s confusion. Jordan hadn’t told her anything about the topic of her PhD; that she had to visit prisons to interview the detainees. Jordan was so used to saying this to her friends that she hadn’t considered how it may come across to an outsider. She chuckled. It was a great opportunity to mess with Megan a little bit.

Megan response came immediately now: [OMG! That’s not what I meant!!! I swear!] This was followed by a message with three shocked emoticons.

Jordan laughed. She could imagine Megan’s horrified expression. She was probably blushing too. Poor girl.

She typed back: [I’m just messing with you ;)] [I interview prisoners for my research. I’ll be away Fri-Sun, so won’t be at the training Sun either :(]

Seeing the message go through, Jordan realised that the sad emoticon was too much. It could too easily be interpreted as her being sad about not seeing Megan, instead of missing the training. Jordan wasn’t entirely sure which one she meant. Either way, she shouldn’t say things like that if she was going to stick to the friend zone; and she had to.

Megan’s response interrupted her trail of thought: [Don’t do that! I thought you were upset. My poor heart couldn’t take that.]

Jordan smiled. Megan was clearly a little braver and more forward in her messages.

Megan’s next message flew in: [Your research sounds interesting! Sad that I won’t see you though :(]

Jordan typed her next message quickly; if she didn’t send this now, her rational thought would take over and prevent her from doing so at all.

Megan’s reply was instant: [Deal! Sure, sounds good. Meet you at Starbucks at 3 :)]

There; it was done. Jordan was going to this coffee date, no matter what happened. Now she just needed to figure out how to not let things get out of hand there.

The Starbucks on campus was neatly tucked away between the faculty of engineering on the one side, and the faculty of arts and human sciences on the other. Megan entered and made her way through the mixed clientele of arty hipsters and studious engineers; students living up to their full stereotypical potential. They all believed they were utterly unique and original but amalgamated into a uniform, consistent mass. Only one person stood out to Megan. She spotted her immediately; already here, even though it was before their meeting time.

Jordan was sitting at one of the corner tables that was considered prime real estate, because of its proximity to a wall socket. She must have been here for a while to get a hold of that table. She had her MacBook open but her nose was buried in a large book. She was wearing thick-rimmed black glasses and a dark grey suit jacket; her overall appearance professional and educated.

It was a world of difference from her usual look in the boxing gym, but no less sexy. Megan took a moment to appreciate the view. She’d been pleasantly surprised to learn that Jordan was doing her PhD, but had so far not been able to picture the girl in her academic capacity; especially since the memory of her practically naked kept coming back to her. Seeing Jordan here – engrossed in literature and pulling off the sexy professor look with such ease – brought it all together. It was all Megan could do not to run up and kiss her there and then.

Instead, she approached slowly. She hesitated for a moment; should she go in for a hug? Was that weird? They didn’t normally hug when but, then, this was a different context. Jordan must have sensed her hovering; she looked up and smiled, before getting up and pulling her in for a quick hug across the table. Her hair tickled Megan’s face and she caught a waft of coconut. Megan’s stomach fluttered restlessly and she sat down quickly.

“No coffee for you?” Jordan asked.

Megan had completely forgotten all about that. She peered into Jordan’s cup, which was empty. “Ah yes, good point. I’ll go get some. Can I get you a refill?”

“Of course. I’ll never say no to coffee.”

That was good to know. Megan distractedly ordered their coffees, while picturing herself waking up next to Jordan on lazy Sunday mornings; letting her sleep in, while preparing a hot brew; enticing her to wake up slowly with gentle kisses and the smell of coffee.

“What are you reading?” Megan asked when she sat back down, forcing lazy Sunday mornings from her mind. In her absence, Jordan had gone straight back to her book.

“It’s about narrative research. I’m working on my methodology chapter. Basically, in my research I’m relying on people’s own stories to inform my findings, instead of using more restrictive interview methods.”

“The stories of prisoners?”

Jordan smiled. “Well remembered…”

How could Megan forget? Jordan’s comment about interviewing prisoners had conjured up images of waiting impatiently behind bars for the cute researcher to show up; visitation time was never so enticing.

Jordan continued: “I’m talking to female offenders who repeatedly offend, to understand the ‘why’ and the ‘how’ of their offences, their backgrounds, life factors and such. I’m drawing on their stories to also address the impact of the criminal justice system in shaping their offending and recovery trajectories.”

She paused and then laughed. “I’m sorry, that’s academic babble, isn’t it? It’s this thesis – it’s taking over my life! Give me a moment to emerge into the real world, please.”

Megan laughed too. “Take your time.” She was enjoying seeing this completely different side of Jordan; she could easily get used to this ‘academic babble’ of hers.

“So, you go into the prisons and ask them to tell you their stories?”

“Yes, I’m aiming to talk to twenty women. It’s qualitative research, of course. I’ve done twelve interviews so far. It’s amazing to hear their stories. They are all so different.”

“But if they just tell you what they want, how do you get to what you need to know for your study?” Megan had never heard about this way of doing research. She had only had to do interviews in which the researcher asked the questions and the respondent answered.

“Well, I still have certain themes I want to get to, so in that sense there’s still structure to the interview. But the key is to let them bring to the table those aspects that they feel are important to their own narrative. It’s a feminist mode of inquiry.” She caught herself: “Oh god, here I go again. Stop me, will you?!”

Megan wouldn’t if she could, but she was intrigued about the practicalities too. “But isn’t it dangerous?” With the risk of sounding naive, she added: “I mean, you hear all these stories about stabbings in prisons and stuff.”

“Well yeah, that does happen, of course. But I’ve had to go through quite stringent screenings and my respondents have been carefully selected in collaboration with the prison staff. They are not in maximum security or anything; all relatively minor crimes. And there’s also always security nearby. I’m perfectly safe, really.” She grinned and added: “So no need to worry about me.”

Megan blushed. Was it that obvious that she would? Realising that Jordan had just given her the perfect bridge to ask about the other thing she really wanted to know, she took a deep breath and plunged head-first into her next question.

“What about your partner? Don’t they worry about you?” She carefully used a gender-neutral sentence; she still wasn’t sure on which team Jordan played.

“Don’t have one of those.”

Jordan looked at her in a way that Megan couldn’t quite interpret; confusion, perhaps, or conflict? She cursed herself for being so vague; now she still didn’t know. At least if she had used a gender, Jordan would have corrected her; probably.

As Megan struggled to find a way to ask more, Jordan volunteered, still with that curious expression on her face: “I couldn’t have a girlfriend right now anyway. The PhD and my boxing take up so much of my life, I have no idea when I would find enough time for her.”

Megan’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of a girlfriend – she was gay! -, before plummeting into a dark crevice of disappointment when the full meaning of the rest of the statement became unmistakably clear. Megan was a firm believer that one could always make time for love. If the right person came along, life had a funny way of making space for them, even when a schedule seemed full and unforgiving at first. So this could only mean that Jordan didn’t want a girlfriend. Or – her brain kicked into pessimist mode – that Jordan didn’t want her specifically and was trying to let her down easy.

“Just tell her you love her!” Megan’s thoughts were interrupted by this cry from the next table. Jordan also looked up in surprise.

A tall boy in skinny jeans with Justin Bieber hair stood in front of a group of other students, his fist still at the end position of his air grab. Encouraged by their looks, he stepped closer to Jordan and Megan and directed his next sentence at Jordan: “Hasn’t this gone long enough? She deserves to know the truth!” He sighed dramatically.

Jordan looked at him in disbelief. Despite her gloomy mood, Megan struggled not to laugh. Jordan probably wouldn’t know this – having only been here for a couple of months – but the coffee shop had been nicknamed the ‘Glee Starbucks’, because of its frequent visitors from the music and acting departments. It wasn’t uncommon that students spontaneously burst into song and dance, or started a dramatic rendition of their performing arts assignments, in the middle of unsuspecting science students.

This kid had clearly started a little show for his friends, but having received attention from elsewhere, was getting a bit carried way. He was still looking at Jordan expectantly, keen to pull her into his performance, while his friends snickered behind him.

“What are you talking about?” Jordan asked him, a hint of panic in her voice. Megan smiled. She couldn’t possibly think he was serious?

“If you don’t tell her, I will!”

He turned to Megan and grabbed her hand. “It’s you Rosa. It’s always been you! Oh, but Margaret said she would die if you found out. Behold now, it’s her at the edge of the cliff. No Margaret, don’t jump!”

He reached out to an invisible person and mimed something slipping through his fingers and, supposedly, falling off the cliff. At that, he burst into tears; actual tears, rolling down his face. It couldn’t be said this boy didn’t have talent. His friends applauded him loudly. He took a deep bow before sitting down again.

“Erm… What the hell was that?” Jordan looked at Megan questioningly. After Megan had explained about the Glee Starbucks, she said: “That’s a relief. I thought he was a friend of yours or something.”

“A friend of mine who’s getting you to confess that you love me?” If only. The sad truth came back to Megan like a hammer blow: Jordan definitely did not love her; she didn’t even want to be with her.

“Something like that. But I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that either.” Jordan smiled at her before looking away.

“My girlfriend?”

“That tall biker chick with the too-cool-for-school look I saw you with?”

Biker chick? It took Megan a moment to piece together who Jordan was talking about. “Rowan? She’s not my girlfriend!”

Jordan looked at her inquisitively. “She’s not?”

“Definitely not. She’s just my, sometimes infuriating, best friend.”

“Ah sorry, I just assumed…” Jordan didn’t look at her when she asked next: “But you do have a girlfriend?”

Wasn’t it obvious that she didn’t? And why did she want to know anyway? “No, I’m single,” she said simply.

“Cool…”

Megan studied Jordan’s face, trying to gauge her reaction. What was she hoping to see? Happiness?

Jordan’s face was blank as she continued: “Most of my friends are in couples, you know. It makes you feel like a bit of an outsider, doesn’t it?”

What did she mean? Did she want to be single friends together? To go do single things that she couldn’t do with her couple friends; whatever that may be? As much as it was tempting to keep spending time with her, Megan wasn’t sure she could do that. She liked Jordan too much to just be friends. She’d been in this situation before and knew it would end up in heartbreak sooner or later.

“Yeah, I guess…” Megan didn’t know what else to say to that. This coffee date was not what she had expected. Something, somewhere had gone horribly wrong.

“Anyway, I’ll come check out Velvet sometime.” Clearly Jordan was also a bit lost for words; where did that come from? She continued: “I’ll bring along my friend Sam. She’s single too. I think you’ll like her.” Jordan made eye contact very briefly before averting her eyes to the book in front of her.

Why did Jordan just bring up her single friend? ‘You’ll like her’? Was she trying to set Megan up with her friend? Then this wasn’t about being single friends together? Megan was confused. What did Jordan want from her? Whatever it was, it wasn’t what Megan wanted. Whatever Jordan came here for today, it wasn’t a first date; it certainly wasn’t the start of something more.

Although it pained her, Megan knew what this meant: it was time to cut her losses; get out while she still could. She told herself to be strong. Getting over Jordan would take time and it wouldn’t be easy. She would need to take her distance; only then could she do this. She decided: from now on, no more flirting, no more hoping; only casual friendliness at the gym, when they would inevitably still see each other.

“Speaking of Velvet, I better get going. I have to work tonight,” Megan said. She felt a strong urge to run out of here as fast as she could.

“Yeah, I better get back to my chapter too.” Was there a hint of disappointment in Jordan’s eyes? Megan reproached herself; no more hoping.

“I’ll see you at the gym.” Megan got up and stepped away from the table quickly. She didn’t have it in her to stay for another hug. If Jordan was disappointed about this, she hid it well.

“Yeah, see you there,” Jordan said with a slight smile.

Megan walked off quickly, feeling tears welling up. Why had she let herself get so carried away, thinking Jordan liked her back? She’d given her signs, hadn’t she? And for Megan to have noticed them; that was quite something. She been told many times how blind she was to other people’s advances.

If the signs had been there but she didn’t want a girlfriend, was Jordan just a player? Was she only in it for the chase, like Rowan? If that was the case, Megan deserved better anyway. She squared her shoulders; recovery started now.

“You’re joking, right?” Jordan asked perplexed, taking her phone off hands-free and putting it up to her ear. The laundry she was folding could wait.

“I promise you that I’m not. It’s hard to believe, I know. I could hardly believe it myself!” Sam said, sounding happier than Jordan had ever seen her.

“You just met her in the supermarket, played some pool, and then she came home with you?! I’m really supposed to buy that?” Jordan tried again.

Sam had just relayed the most incredible tale of bumping into her favourite actress, in the supermarket, of all places; hitting it off with her; and having the night of her life, introducing said actress to lesbianism.

“Buy it or not; it’s the truth! I’m still buzzing… We just connected, you know. It was like we’d known each other for years.”

“But you haven’t! I have known you for years, Sam, and it’s just… An actress? A red-carpet-walking, Oscar-swinging actress?”

“She’s not like that. She’s more real, somehow. She was just happy that someone finally took her for who she was, instead of what they thought she’d be like. Fame does that to you, I guess.”

“Because for you it had nothing to do with the fact that she is famous?” Jordan liked Sam a lot, but it seemed she had lost the plot.

“It didn’t. I didn’t even recognise her at first. I just thought she was stunning and I wanted to talk to her. Turns out I love talking to her, and she to me.”

“Come on, Sam. Really?”

“Why is this so hard to believe, Jordan? She recently moved to the burbs; turns out she lives close to me in some inconspicuous house. I’m not sure where exactly, but I know now which the nearest supermarket is.” Sam chuckled. It seemed that nothing could dampen her spirits; not even a sceptical friend. “Why would I make this up, anyway?”

Jordan sighed. She had a point there. As much as this story sounded like a crazy fantasy, she’d never known Sam to be anything but truthful. “You wouldn’t…,” she admitted.

“Exactly!” Sam said triumphantly.

“So, now what? You’re not going to see her again, are you?” Having no choice but to believe that the encounter happened, Jordan was keen to find out how her friend possibly envisioned she would proceed from here.

“God, I hope I will! I have no idea how, but I want to.”

Jordan was afraid she’d say that. “Sam,” she started gently, “don’t you think it may have been just a onetime thing for her? I mean, she lives in a completely different world, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she does. But she seemed perfectly happy in mine too. Maybe there’s a way… It could be like a little weekend escape for her or something.”

“You want to be her weekend lover?”

“I’ll be whatever she wants me to be,” Sam said with a happy sigh. “Truth is, Jordan, I think I’m in love with her…”

“Sure sounds like it…”

Jordan was worried for her friend; Sam would be heartbroken if this didn’t come to anything. And it almost certainly wouldn’t. Another thought hit Jordan. Her heart was pounding as she asked: “What about Megan?”

“I know… I did really like her. But now… I can’t think of anyone else, not even Megan. She just pales in comparison, you know?”

Jordan felt a wave of anger rushing in. This was so unfair to Megan. Even though the cute bartender had no idea Sam even liked her and there was nothing going on between them, it still felt like a betrayal, somehow, to toss her aside so easily. Megan deserved more than that. Besides, Megan couldn’t pale in comparison to anyone if she tried.

“At least she’s a real person, living a normal life amongst us ordinary people,” Jordan said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really appreciate the effort you put in. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sure Megan is great and she’ll make someone very happy. That someone is just not going to be me, I realise now. It wouldn’t be fair for her to be a consolation prize.”

“She’s definitely not a consolation prize,” Jordan said before she could stop herself.

Sam was catching up. “Wait a minute. Why are you getting so worked up about this?”

“I just think it’s not smart to dismiss all other options so easily, that’s all. This whole actress thing could go absolutely nowhere…” Jordan tried to make it sound like she was purely moved by concern for her friend. “And Megan is great,” she added. “I think you two would really hit it off.”

Sam saw straight through her, as usual. “You like her,” she stated. It wasn’t a question.

There was no point denying it. “I do.”

It was the first time she’d actually admitted it. Doing so somehow made it all the more real. When Sam didn’t respond immediately, Jordan sighed and continued: “I’ve liked her for a while. I was blocking it out because you liked her. I felt like a terrible friend for even thinking it.”

There was a further moment of silence on the other end before Sam started laughing. “That’s just perfect, Jordan!” She said happily.

“What? Why is that perfect?”

“Now you can go for it! She’s all yours!”

Jordan took a deep breath, the full truth of her messed-up situation dawning on her. “Well, it’s a bit late for that,” she said more irately than she intended.

“What do you mean? Why would it be too late?”

She might as well tell Sam the full truth now. “Because I shot her down… I realised she liked me too, and I shot her down. It must have taken quite some courage for her to ask me out in the first place…”

“Wait a minute. She likes you? She asked you out?”

“Remember I told you that I found out she was single? She told me when we met up for coffee. She asked me to go. I only went to find out if she was single. Or so I told myself.” Jordan talked factually, not wanting to let the emotion shine through her words.

“Oh Jordan… What happened?” Sam sounded sympathetic to her ordeal.

Jordan didn’t want to blame her friend for this fiasco. It wasn’t Sam’s fault, but she couldn’t help but be annoyed with her. The timing was simply terrible. If only this had happened one week earlier, Jordan would have approached the coffee date very differently.

“I told her I didn’t want a girlfriend; that I didn’t have the time for it. I may have suggested we should be friends. And I definitely told her that she should meet you; that she’d like you.”

“Ouch…”

“Ouch is correct… That’s why I said it’s too late. I fucked up, Sam. After all that, there’s no way she’ll try again with me.”

“But you can…,” Sam started. When Jordan started to protest, she said: “No wait, hear me out. Let her know you like her. Come clean about everything. She’ll understand that you were just being an amazing friend. Which I will never forget, by the way.”

“I don’t know, Sam… She seems really upset.”

Jordan had seen Megan a few times at the gym since their fateful coffee date and to say she’d been icy was an understatement. They had still partnered as usual, but Megan hadn’t made more conversation than was strictly necessary. Jordan even had the impression that her kicks and hits had been harder than before.

“Do you like her, or not?”

“I do… I like her a lot.” The floodgates were open. Now that she’d admitted that she liked Megan, she realised just how much she was into the pink-haired girl; how much it had taken to resist those feelings.

“Then she’s worth fighting for, isn’t she? And if anyone’s a fighter, it’s you!”

“Yeah, you’re right…” In theory, Sam was absolutely right but Jordan had no idea how to pull this off in practice.

“I know I am. So quit sulking and get your head in the game!”

Jordan had to smile at Sam’s attempt at pep talk. “Alright coach… I’ll think about it.”

After she’d hung up the phone, Jordan sat down heavily on her bed. She realised that for the entire duration of the phone call, she’d been restlessly pacing the tiny floor surface of her room like a caged tiger. Was there still time to fix things with Megan? Perhaps if she could just talk to her and come clean, as Sam had suggested? Would Megan let her? Jordan would certainly have to amp up the niceties first; show her that she meant business now.

She had to try. What else could she do? She couldn’t let this amazing girl just disappear from her life or, worse, stay on the receiving end of her passive aggression.

With trembling fingers she started typing a message: [Hey, it’s me]. She hesitated. Would Megan have deleted her number? Would she know who ‘me’ was?

She started again: [Hey, it’s Jordan. I’m thinking about going for a drink tonight. Would you like to join me? xx]

The two status ticks turned blue almost immediately; Megan had seen the message. Jordan waited impatiently for her reply.

When her reply eventually came, a few hours later, it was brief and disappointing: [Hey. I can’t, I have to work. I’ll see you at the gym.]

Megan’s boxing gloves connected hard with the pads Jordan was holding: left jab, right cross, left hook. She finished the combination with a right low kick, which Jordan blocked with her shin pad.

“Good. Again!” Jordan said as she reset the position of the pads. Megan repeated the sequence vigorously.

“Now, remember to put your whole body behind your punches. Here, let me show you.”

Jordan hooked her hands out of the pads and dropped them. She stepped closer and put her hands on Megan’s hips.

A surge of electricity went through Megan’s body and she fought the urge to recoil. It wasn’t so much the fact that Jordan’s hands were on her that caused her reluctance; it was her own reaction to the touch. Although her mind was fighting her attraction to the gorgeous boxer, her body had not gotten that memo.

“Execute those punches again, slowly, and pay attention to the movement of your hips.”

As Megan went through the combination, Jordan’s hands guided her hips to move along with the punches, twisting left and right as her arms extended. Megan avoided eye contact but she was aware of Jordan’s intense gaze on her movement, on the swaying of her hips. Standing so close to her, touching her, Jordan was driving up Megan’s body temperature. She cursed her body for betraying her and twisted away from Jordan’s grip as soon as she’d finished the sequence.

“Can you feel how much more power you have when you put your hips into it?” Jordan continued, unperturbed by her reaction.

The girl seemed intent on being as friendly and supportive as possibly, even though Megan was finding it hard to reciprocate. The times they’d seen each other at the gym immediately following their coffee date had been awkward. Both of them had been edging around the other, pretending everything was normal but both realising something had shifted. Megan had not wanted to make a big deal of things by refusing to partner with her, but their attention had been much more on the moves than on each other.

However, Megan had noticed a shift in Jordan’s behaviour. Perhaps it had started today, or even last week; she couldn’t be sure. It seemed that Jordan had decided to increase her efforts to get Megan to engage with her. She’d been talkative, encouraging, smiley. She’d even winked at Megan once or twice again. And now she was finding excuses to touch her, it seemed. What was going on? Megan was far from an expert on courting behaviour, but if she didn’t know any better, that’s what she’d call it.

But it couldn’t be that, obviously; Jordan had made it abundantly clear she wasn’t interested in Megan in that way. So it must just be another way of re-establishing their friendship. Megan wasn’t ready for that. She didn’t rule out that in time they could be friends, but now Jordan’s efforts were just distracting her from her resolve to take her distance. How could she stay away from her, mentally, if she was so close, physically?

“Let’s go again,” she grunted, nudging Jordan to put the pads back on.

“See, that’s better. I can feel how much more powerful those punches are now.” Jordan smiled encouragingly.

“With your low kick…,” she then continued, “remember that you’re trying to hit me here.” She ran her hand along her outer thigh, pausing at a point midway up. “Or even here, further back. You’d hit the sciatic nerve, which is a very powerful target.” She moved her hand to a spot at the back of her thigh, just below her buttock. “You can actually feel where you’d need to hit it, just here.” She looked at Megan invitingly.

Did she really expect Megan to touch her? “That’s alright. I’ll give it a try,” Megan said instead, not trusting her hands to behave when laid on Jordan’s body.

“Okay, try it. I’m not going to block it, so gently please!”

Megan kicked, a little harder than she intended. From the look on Jordan’s face, she hit that nerve well enough.

“Ooof… I guess I deserved that,” Jordan mumbled with a pained expression, rubbing the back of her thigh.

She then turned cheerily to Megan and gave her an appraising look: “Very good! Very impressive, actually. Let’s put that in the combination. I’m going to check your kick though. I need to be able to walk tomorrow.”

They practised the combination a few more times, Jordan encouraging Megan at every turn, until the trainer indicated that it was time for the final part of the lesson. Usually this meant the advanced fighters would spar, while the beginners had more time to practice their combinations, ask questions, receive one-on-one time, or work on the bags. Since they’d been training together, Jordan had usually stuck around Megan, working with her. She got more than enough sparring times on other days, she said.

Still looking for ways to create some space and give herself a chance to recollect, Megan said: “I think I’ll just do some bag work today. Go ahead and spar with the others if you want.”

Jordan looked slightly disappointed but respected her wish. She put on her gloves and jogged to the other side of the hall.

Megan turned to a punch bag and started going through some simple combinations. Her focus on her movements lapsed as her mind replayed the interactions she had with Jordan this morning. Jordan’s hands on her body, swaying her gently, had made more of an impact than she cared to admit. It was as if she could still feel them on her now. Her own body was on autopilot, hitting and kicking the unfortunate punch bag more and more erratically, until she was forced to stop because she couldn’t breathe. She panted and wiped the sweat off her face with the back of her forearm.

Her attention was drawn to the other side of the room. The trainer was giving instructions to Jordan. She was sparring with a tall, broad-shouldered guy, who looked like he could lift her with one finger. She was using her size to her advantage, ducking under his long arms and getting close to his body to deliver punches to his abdomen.

“Remember that those boxing bobs and weaves are not as effective in kickboxing! If Justin would actually use his legs now, you’d get hit in the face,” the trainer said firmly.

Jordan moved back and hurled a well-executed high kick towards the other fighter’s face. He staggered back and narrowly blocked it with his gloves, clearly surprised the short girl could reach that high.

Megan had of course witnessed Jordan’s flexibility before, but she couldn’t help but be impressed by the move. She’d take that guy out in no time if this were a real fight.

Jordan laughed her booming laugh and said: “It’s a good thing he didn’t use his legs then!”

“Nice kick,” the trained complimented her. “Just be aware of your defence. There’s a lot more limbs to take into account, especially in Thai boxing. A knee to the face hurts!”

“Noted. Thanks coach.”

Jordan’s gaze flitted across the room and met Megan’s. She grinned, exposing her bright green gum guard. While not a sexy thing by far, there was something about that action that made Megan’s belly flutter. It was the boyish boisterousness; the look to see if Megan had seen her move; the need for her appreciation. It was classic playground behaviour: showing off for the girl’s attention.

She got the girl’s attention, that was certain, but in this case the girl wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Megan looked away and turned back to the punching bag, trying to block out Jordan’s grin, which kept lingering in her mind.

At the end of the lesson, Megan was pleased to see that Jordan was engaged in a conversation with the trainer. Megan had to go straight to the university to finish an essay, so she had to shower and change at the gym again. The last thing she wanted to do was be alone in the changing room with Jordan, so she’d been racking her brain to find a way to avoid that. Now that Jordan was still chatting, she could perhaps get in and out quickly. Or at least time it so that she was in the shower while Jordan was in the changing room and vice versa.

The changing room was empty, as it had been the last time Megan was here. Just to be sure, she gave the first shower cubicle a quick knock to make sure no one was in there. The doors to the cubicles didn’t lock so some aspiring comedian had put up a sign saying: ‘Do knock it before you try it.’ Rushing, Megan slipped inside.

While she was undressing, she heard the door to the changing room open and close. That was probably Jordan. Megan felt a rush going through her body; a rush of what, she wasn’t sure. Panic? Excitement? She quickly switched on the shower to block out the distracting sounds of Jordan undressing. Soon after, she heard the shower in the cubicle next to hers being switched on.

Realising her timing was going to be off, Megan took her time showering. There was no way she was going to beat Jordan to it, so she might as well stay hidden in the shower cubicle. Not a very confident statement, but Megan felt anything but confident at the moment.

The shower in the next cubicle was switched off. Megan strained to hear any further sounds over the running water of her own shower. What was Jordan doing now? It didn’t really matter, as long as Megan knew when she had left, so she could come out. She closed her eyes and let the water run down her face.

She was so lost in this calming sensation that a sudden noise right behind her startled her. Was that the door? Before she could turn around, she felt someone’s hands on her hips, gently taking hold of her. They weren’t restraining her in any way; they were merely making the presence of their owner known. Fighting her panic, Megan realised that it was oddly familiar; she’d felt this before, not half an hour earlier. In fact, the phantom feeling of those hands had never quite left her. Jordan. What was she doing here? Couldn’t she see Megan was naked?!

Panicking, Megan moved her head from underneath the water and took a small step backwards in the process. She felt Jordan applying gentle pressure on her hips, drawing her closer. Her body slowly came in contact with Jordan’s – first her buttocks, then her back, then her thighs – until she could feel Jordan pressed into her all along the length of her body. Standing out of reach of the water, her skin felt cool on Megan’s. Megan’s breath stopped. Was Jordan naked too? She couldn’t feel any clothing but, then, it had become hard to concentrate.

Megan opened her mouth to say something – to demand an explanation, perhaps – but no words came out. She wanted to turn around – if nothing else to confirm her suspicions about Jordan’s nakedness – but her body was frozen.

Jordan’s hands moved along her sides, up to her shoulders, and then suddenly left her body. Megan felt herself missing them instantly. She should stop this; whatever this was, it had nothing to do with creating distance. And yet, when Jordan moved her body away from her, Megan couldn’t stop hers from pressing backwards, following her; craving the contact.

As sudden as they had left, Jordan’s hands were back, touching her shoulders. It was the smell that told Megan that she’d withdrawn them to put shower gel on them, which she was now gently spreading over Megan’s shoulders and back. Megan’s heart was racing. She shouldn’t be allowing this; she should certainly not be enjoying this. Jordan’s hands slid down over her lower back to her buttocks, leaving not one spot untouched.

There was something pragmatic about her movements, as if washing Megan’s body was her only concern, and any tension or thrill caused by this was irrelevant.

Her hands moved over Megan’s hips and up along her waist. As they travelled to the front of Megan’s body, Jordan pressed her body into Megan’s. Megan felt her breasts against her back. Her body responded automatically, pushing back into Jordan, her buttocks fitting neatly in the curve between Jordan’s thighs and her belly.

Megan looked down to see Jordan’s hands sliding up slowly, her dark skin contrasting starkly with Megan’s pale stomach and the white foam created by the shower gel. Her mouth was dry and she found herself still unable to speak. Where were those hands going? As Jordan cupped her breasts, Megan’s breath escaped her in a deep sigh. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding it.

Jordan gently spread the soapy substance over her breasts, not paying them any more attention than she had any other part of her body. As her palms slid over Megan’s nipples, a shiver went through her body. It felt so sudden and violent, compared to Jordan’s slow and deliberate movements, that Megan was sure the other girl must have felt it too.

As soon as Jordan’s hands moved away from her breasts, Megan regretted their absence. She didn’t get long to contemplate this, as Jordan now moved down her belly and grazed the front of her hips. Her hands glided down Megan’s thighs; her thumbs facing inward, meeting between her slightly separated legs.

Megan was sure Jordan would be able to feel the heat radiating from just above her hands. If it weren’t for the water still running down the front of her legs, Jordan may even have encountered another sign of her excitement, involuntarily making its way downs her thighs.

It was there – just out of reach of where Megan by now couldn’t help but hope she’d go – that Jordan left her hands, as she pulled Megan in close for a hug, pressing her cheek into Megan’s shoulder.

“In case you were still wondering if I wanted us to be more than friends…,” she whispered in Megan’s ear.

At that, she slipped out of the cubicle as quickly and as quietly as she’d slipped in. Her departure left a cold abyss behind Megan’s body that threatened to pull her in and drown her forever. She shivered and stepped back under the hot water, letting it rinse the soap off her.

What the hell was that? A million questions rushed through Megan’s head, all fighting to be considered first. Her own conflicting feelings about what had just happened were hard to ignore. Her body had obviously completely betrayed her again, giving into, and reacting to, the delicious physical sensation of Jordan’s touch. But the flesh was weak, as they said.

Her mind, however, was also not innocent. Why didn’t she stop Jordan? The sheer thought of the chiselled body pressed into hers, of the beautiful face with that cute grin just behind her, had been enough to stop all thoughts of staying away from Jordan, of keeping her distance.

But why had Jordan done this to her? She didn’t want to be with Megan. She’d said this explicitly a couple of weeks ago; she had no time for a girlfriend. Had she changed her mind? If so, what made her change it? Her circumstances certainly hadn’t changed.

A nagging memory fought its way to the surface. A few weeks ago, she’d asked Rowan how to get out of the friend zone with Jordan. ‘Should I just bang her there and then in the showers, like you would?’ She’d jokingly asked her best friend.

Was that what Jordan was doing? Breaking through the friend zone barriers? And if so, to what end? What did she mean when she said she wanted to be more than friends? Did she just want to have sex? This sure felt like a very Rowan-esk thing to do, now that Megan thought about it. She could certainly picture her friend slipping into the shower with someone, fucking them, and then disappearing on them.

The thought of Jordan doing that to her made her feel sick. Granted, Jordan hadn’t fucked her, but she may as well have, considering how personal and intimate this had felt. If sex was all she wanted, she’d have to go get it from someone else. No matter how hot Jordan was, Megan couldn’t do that. It would tear her apart.

Fighting her nausea, Megan let the water run down her face again, as if cleansing herself from the experience she’d just had. She waited for what felt like an eternity until she heard the door of the changing room open and close. Jordan had left at last.

Megan couldn’t face her now. She didn’t trust herself. She honestly had no idea what she would do; what she should do. Right now, her head was filled with thoughts of Jordan playing her; just wanting her for a quick fling. Yet, she couldn’t shake the hope that it was more than that. What if she really had changed her mind about wanting a girlfriend?

Competing thoughts and emotions kept rushing through her head like a whirlwind. And to think that she now had to head to the library to write an essay; how was she ever going to pull that off?

Jordan gave her mum and dad both a hug and a kiss and flopped down on the sofa with a satisfied sigh. She often visited her parents after her training on Sundays, so they had been expecting her.

“You look happy today. Anything you want to tell us?” Her mum asked curiously.

Jordan wasn’t surprised her mum had picked up on her mood. She had been smiling all the way from the gym to her parents’ house, drawing strange looks from the people on the train. Her dad gave a curious glance, bordering on suspicion.

“Not really. Just feeling on top of the world, that’s all.”

How could she possibly tell her parents about what had just happened in the shower at the gym? How she’d decided on a whim to take a bold step to show Megan that she was into her too. She had tried in vain to flirt with the girl and slowly win her over, but she’d started thinking about changing tack when she realised that Megan’s wasn’t budging. When she saw Megan’s bag in the changing room and heard her in the shower, the idea had just materialised in her head. Flirting Megan didn’t seem to notice, but this she was sure to notice.

Jordan grinned as she remembered how beautiful Megan had looked; how good it had felt to run her hands over her body; how readily Megan had responded to her touch.

“Alright. Well, I’m glad you are, sweetie.” Her mum said, pouring her a cup of coffee.

“Jordan!” Her little sister Tasha came running into the room and cannonballed into her, before giving her a big bear hug.

“Hey monkey! Don’t you know it’s rude to jump all over people? The penalty for that is death by tickling!”

Jordan started tickling her, causing her to shriek excitedly, before running off giggling. “Catch me if you can,” she shouted over her shoulder.

Jordan got up and chased her. Tasha had run into her bedroom and was hiding behind the door. Jordan made a little show of looking for her, before picking her up and throwing her on the bed.

“Death by tickling!” She shouted, as she vigorously started executing the sentence. Tasha giggled uncontrollably and wrestled to try to get away from Jordan.

Because of all this commotion, Jordan didn’t realise at first that her phone was vibrating in her pocket. She trapped Tasha’s trashing legs under her body and pinned her hands down with her knees.

“I’m not done with you,” she said with a grin, before getting her phone out of her pocket. The display told her it was Megan calling. A surge of happiness rushed through her.

“Megan, hi!” She said enthusiastically.

“Jordan…” Megan didn’t sound nearly as happy as Jordan had hoped she would be. There was a long pause before she continued, still in that same strained voice: “What the hell was that all about, Jordan?”

Oh, this was not good. Jordan got off Tasha and sunk down next to her on the bed. “What do you mean?”

Tasha, who hadn’t picked up on her sister’s sudden mood change, saw her chance for revenge. She launched herself at Jordan and buried her little fingers deep into Jordan’s sides, where she knew her sister was most ticklish. Jordan was completely surprised by her move and couldn’t suppress a giggle.

“Tasha, stop,” she snorted, trying to catch the child’s hands.

Encouraged, Tasha laughed and doubled her efforts. With another giggle, Jordan managed to catch both Tasha’s hands in her free hand, and she gently slid out from underneath her sister.

“Not now, sweetie. Give me a minute, okay?” She said gently, as she got off the bed and walked out of the room, lingering in the upstairs landing.

“I can call back later if it’s a bad time.” Megan’s voice sounded ice-cold.

“It’s not a bad time,” Jordan started, before Megan added: “If you’re too busy with Tasha, I mean.”

This was getting worse by the second. Megan clearly got the wrong idea. The misunderstanding would have been funny if the mood wasn’t so dead serious.

“Tasha is my little sister. She’s six,” Jordan said quickly. “She’d received the death penalty by tickling, but she was trying to escape,” she added, unsure of why this was relevant.

Megan’s voice sounded warmer when she said: “Oh… I didn’t know you had a sister.” Of course she didn’t. Why would she know that? They’d never discussed family.

“Anyway, I think you owe me an explanation for what just happened,” Megan continued, audibly bracing herself. There was something in her voice that made Jordan think she’d rehearsed what she would say.

“An explanation? Wasn’t it quite self-explanatory?” Jordan started to panic. Had she misread the signs? Megan had certainly seemed to like what she’d done to her.

“Not really, no. I don’t appreciate being played, Jordan.”

“Being played? What do you mean?” Confusion filled Jordan’s head. Had she played Megan?

“This hot and cold business of yours!” Megan sounded on the verge of tears and Jordan realised how much courage it must have taken for her to call up Jordan and confront her.

She wanted nothing more than to comfort Megan, to put her mind at ease, but Megan continued: “First you give me your number and you’re all flirty with me. Then you tell me you don’t want a girlfriend. Then you get all touchy and flirty again. And then you pull this shower stunt, saying you want to be more than friends?!”

Hearing it spelt out like that, Jordan suddenly saw how this looked from Megan’s perspective. How had she not seen it? She knew she’d given Megan the wrong idea about wanting more, but she’d been so focused on showing her the opposite, that she hadn’t stopped to think that now she must look like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde to Megan.

“Oh my god, Megan. I’m so sorry. I never intended it to be like that.” How could she even begin to make her see that?

“Then what did you intend?” Megan justly asked. “What do you want, exactly?”

Jordan’s brain was racing. This was going to be such a long story and she really did not want to do this over the phone in her parents’ house. She wanted to see Megan’s face, be able to gauge her reaction.

“I can explain everything,” she said feebly. Great start, genius. Wasn’t that what every fuck-up always said? “Let me come see you, please? Where are you?”

Megan sighed and took a while to respond. “I’m in the library on campus. I’m supposed to be finishing this essay.”

Jordan cursed. It would take her a while to get there on the train and her parents wouldn’t understand why she’d leave again so quickly. But she had no choice; Megan was right, she owed her an explanation. Moreover, she desperately wanted to make it up to Megan; to be on good terms with her, if nothing else.

“I can be there in an hour.”

“Alright,” was Megan’s simple reply. She didn’t sound overly thrilled at the prospect.

Jordan finally walked into the library just over an hour later – after apologising profusely to her parents and sister for her early departure and promising to come back tomorrow, and after an excruciatingly slow train ride. She wasn’t sure where in the large building Megan was, but she would look behind every shelf if that was what it would take to find her.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to, finding Megan quickly in the computer area. Jordan hesitated, not daring to go in for a hug like the last time they met outside the gym. Instead, she sat down on the empty chair next to Megan. Megan still hadn’t looked at her, deliberately fixated on the screen in front of her.

“Hey…,” Jordan started, in what she hoped was already an apologetic voice.

Megan finally turned towards her. The hurt and confusion in her eyes cut straight to Jordan’s soul. She cursed herself for having messed this up so badly.

“I don’t even know where to begin…,” she said quietly, acutely aware of the complete silence – save from gentle keystrokes – around them.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Megan responded in a normal volume, drawing glances from the people around her.

“The beginning… Okay…” Jordan tried to figure out what the beginning was.

“And you better make this quick because I still need to finish this essay before I go to work.” Megan’s voice cutting through the silence again caused several hissing noises, urging them to shut up.

“Can we go somewhere we can talk?” Jordan whispered. She’d rather not have a bunch of undergrads listening in on their conversation.

“I think that’s a good idea. People are trying to work here,” a girl sitting opposite them said in a snarky tone.

Jordan glared at her and turned back to Megan. “Please?”

Megan sighed and looked desperately at the screen in front of her. She’d only typed one paragraph underneath her title: ‘The gender revolution – stalled or steaming ahead?’

“I’ll help you finish it after, okay?” Jordan said, hoping she’d correctly interpreted that look.

Megan sighed again. “You better.” She saved her file, huffing: “For what it’s worth…,” pulled her USB stick out of the computer, and logged off.

Not long after, they sat down on a low wall outside the library. It was a bit chilly in the autumn breeze but Jordan didn’t want to argue with Megan’s choice of location. That was the least of her worries.

“Okay, start talking,” Megan cut straight to the chase.

Jordan decided to start somewhere and see where that would lead her. “Remember that I said I’d been to the cocktail bar where you work before?”

“Yeah…” Did Megan already look impatient?

Jordan pressed on: “I went there just after I’d moved here, on a Friday night.”

Megan looked at her suspiciously and Jordan could guess her thoughts: she worked there on Fridays, why hadn’t she seen her?

“I was with my best friend Sam. We sat somewhere in the back; you probably wouldn’t have seen us.” She saw the recognition in Megan’s eyes at the mention of Sam’s name, but the girl didn’t say anything.

“That’s when Sam told me that she liked you. She’d been trying to flirt with you for a while, get your attention…”

“Sam…? What does she have to do with anything? Who is she? And she’s been flirting with me?!” Megan looked puzzled now. Clearly Jordan and Sam had been right in assuming that she hadn’t even noticed Sam’s efforts.

“Yeah, she’s there pretty much every Friday, I think, with some guys from her work. Tom boy, dreadlocks?” There couldn’t be that many of those. Jordan didn’t want to linger too long on Sam, but she was pivotal to the story.

“Ooooh… I know who you mean!” Megan paused, clearly lost in thought for a moment and then murmured: “I had no idea… God, I really am rubbish at this.”

Jordan had to smile; Megan really was rubbish at this. “Anyway…,” she continued, “Sam didn’t know anything about you. If you were single, or even if you were gay.”

Megan snorted as if to say: ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

“When I saw you, I recognised you from the gym. So I told Sam I’d try and find out a bit more about you, to see if she had a chance.” Jordan held her breath; this was a tricky admission. How would Megan react?

“So you were spying on me for your friend?” Megan wasn’t impressed.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that… But it was a lot harder than I thought. You’re not exactly an open book…”

Megan just shrugged as if to say: ‘Why would I be?’ She was right, of course.

“So I tried to get to know you. And…” Jordan paused; here came the other difficult truth: “the more I got to know you, the more I liked you, myself; really liked you…”

The look Megan gave her was a mix of wariness and surprise. If she was pleased by Jordan’s admission, she was hiding it well, possibly to show Jordan that she wouldn’t get off that easily. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

“Then when you asked for my number and to go for a coffee, I realised – or I thought – that you liked me too.”

Knowing it would embarrass her, Jordan decided not to mention her first hint: Megan blatantly checking out her body in the changing room.

When Megan didn’t deny it, Jordan continued: “I don’t know why I accepted… I didn’t want to lead you on, but I told myself that it would be okay. That I’d leave it there and somehow divert your attention to Sam. I felt like such a terrible friend for even meeting up with you.”

“Yeah… That didn’t go so well, did it? I had no idea why you’d even brought Sam up. And I really thought you liked me too; that we were having a first date of some sorts…”

“I did like you! I do like you!”

“But you couldn’t, because your friend liked me too…”

“Exactly… And I’m so sorry for giving you the wrong idea.” Jordan smiled. Megan at least seemed to understand her predicament.

“And then what happened?”

Right. They weren’t there yet. Jordan would almost forget that was only half of the story; the better part had yet to come.

“Then Sam met someone else…,” she said. She decided not to go into details on whom she met; it was such an incredible tale that it would only detract from the issue at hand. “She completely fell for the woman; doesn’t have eyes for anyone else anymore.”

“Oh, nice for her,” Megan said curtly, clearly feeling a bit dismissed. “So, then the road was clear for you; was that it?”

Jordan sighed. When she put it that way, it sounded a lot less romantic. “I knew I’d messed up badly; that I’d told you I wasn’t interested in having a girlfriend. I thought it was too late, but I knew I had to try.”

“So you tried… Flirting with me, getting all touchy-feely?”

“So you did notice that time?” Jordan winked but Megan only rolled her eyes at her.

“Yeah, I tried… But I wasn’t sure if you even realised. It didn’t seem to be working, in any case.”

“Did you ever consider if perhaps I just wasn’t interested anymore?”

Jordan hadn’t considered that at all. Surely that wasn’t the case? She started to panic again. So far, she’d thought this was going reasonably well.

“I didn’t,” she admitted.

Megan didn’t say anything, clearly not willing to put her out of her misery yet.

“Look, I know it was a crazy idea to join you in the shower. I didn’t plan it or anything. I just did it. I don’t know why… I hoped it would show you how I really felt about you.” She paused.

Megan remained silent and gave her a questioning look; a look that said: ‘Go on’.

“That I really like you. That I want us to be more than friends. That I find you crazy attractive, and so much fun to be around. That I want to spend a lot more time with you…” There it was, all her cards on the table. Jordan looked nervously at Megan.

“So, you don’t just want sex?” Megan looked relieved.

Was that what she had thought? If so, Jordan really had taken a completely wrong approach with her shower stunt.

“I mean, eventually I would very much like that too…” She grinned playfully. Megan gave her a tiny smile back; she actually smiled, finally warming up a bit.

Jordan felt the relief coursing through her body. Encouraged, she continued: “But I want so much more than that. I think you’re amazing, Megan. Please say you’ll give me another chance?”

“How do I know you actually mean all this?” Megan gave her a piercing, serious look, but her whole demeanour said she didn’t really need convincing.

Jordan tried anyway: “Megan, I really am sorry about how this has all gone, and I understand that you’re still worried. But let me make it up to you. Let me take you on a date. A real first date.”

Megan smiled a bit, despite herself; it warmed Jordan’s heart. “Alright then,” she said after a moment’s deliberation.

Jordan was so happy she wanted to hug Megan, but something told her the other girl wasn’t quite there yet.

Megan glanced at her watch and put her hand in her pocket. “Well, you better finish this for me too, because you’ve taken up all of my time, and I need to go to work now.”

She pressed something into Jordan’s hand and walked off. Jordan opened her hand; it was the little USB stick. Jordan laughed and headed back into the library; she had an essay to write.

Megan looked around, unsure of herself. She felt out of place, while everyone else looked like ducks in water. She bumbled towards an information sign and started reading. The information wasn’t really going in, but at least it made her look like she knew what she was doing.

Jordan had suggested they meet in town at the end of the afternoon. It was Saturday and Megan had to beg and plead to get the night off. Given the meeting time, she’d expected they would go to a movie or see a show. She was utterly surprised when Jordan had whisked her off to the modern art museum instead.

They had spent the past ten minutes in a hall with strange compositions of everyday objects. They had barely spoken, each looking at the different art pieces at their own pace; quietly taking them in. Megan didn’t really know what there was to take in. She didn’t actually like modern art; she just didn’t get it.

She looked across the hall to where Jordan was standing, near a rope hanging from the ceiling. Was that art too, or were they still building that installation?

Jordan looked completely at ease and like she belonged in a place like this. Megan was starting to wonder if this was what it would be like if they were together: going to museums, pretending to understand. Maybe they had less in common than she’d thought.

At least Jordan was nice to look at, she thought with a satisfied grin. Her date was looking dapper in a tan pair of chinos and a black t-shirt, paired with high-top sneakers. To complete the look, she had brown suspenders and her black-rimmed glasses.

Megan herself had dressed rather more conservatively in a pair of jeans that she knew showed off her butt and a light-pink button-down shirt. Jordan had of course told her she looked amazing, but that was expected dating etiquette.

Jordan must have sensed Megan staring at her, because she looked over and made her way to where Megan was standing.

“So, what do you think?” Jordan gestured at the piece in front of them: a blank canvas with a diagonal tear through the centre. In front of it, also behind glass, lay a pair of neatly folded scissors.

“Erm…” Megan wished she’d actually taken in the information on the sign; perhaps then she’d have something meaningful to say. “It’s an interesting concept…,” she tried weakly.

“Don’t you think the juxtaposition of the clean promise of the blank canvas and the rough finality of the tear is so powerful?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Was that really what people saw when they looked at this? To Megan it looked like a random collection of household items, or, at best, an artwork gone wrong.

“And then those scissors in front of it, like an innocent bystander. Such a fascinating narrative,” Jordan added.

“Hmmm…”

Megan wasn’t sure how long she could keep pretending. She certainly had to pick the location for their next date. She caught herself; did she really just think about their next date already? She brought her attention back to the present. She had to say something clever.

“It just seems to me that the scissors couldn’t have caused that tear. It’s too irregular. I think a cut with the scissors would have been cleaner.”

Did that make any sense? Megan desperately didn’t want to come across stupid or ignorant in front of Jordan.

“That’s an interesting point. Go on.” Jordan was now looking at her interestedly. There was a slight twinkle in her eyes, as if she knew something Megan didn’t.

“Well, it’s almost like someone is trying to frame the scissors by putting them there?”

“You’re right… Do you think it’s a depiction of any particular theme in our current society?”

“I guess it could be…,” Megan said doubtfully, hoping Jordan wouldn’t ask her what theme that would be.

Jordan looked at her with a serious expression a moment longer before bursting out laughing. Her outburst was so sudden and out of place in the quiet museum that Megan had to laugh too.

“What?” She asked.

“Your face!” Jordan said, still giggling. “You’re good!”

When Megan looked at her, not understanding, she continued: “Come on, anyone can make this and call it art, right? It’s just a matter of coming up with a good story around it. Whenever I used to go to a museum with my brother, we would make up stories around the pieces. The crazier or more pretentious, the better. It’s still one of my favourite things to do!”

“Oh my god, I totally thought you were serious!” Megan was as much surprised as she was relieved. Jordan sure had the lingo down.

Jordan laughed again. “I know. I could see that. Come on, we have to try it!”

She grabbed Megan’s hand and pulled her along to the dangling rope she was looking at earlier. Her hand felt oddly familiar in Megan’s, as if they’d been holding hands for years. Part of her hoped Jordan would hold on to it, but she let go once they reached their destination.

“What do you think this piece is about?” Jordan asked her.

Megan looked at the rope. It came out of a hole in the ceiling and extended nearly to the floor, where it ended in a knot. Megan still wasn’t sure it was even an art piece. She had nothing.

“I really don’t know…,” she said, not wanting to make a fool out of herself.

“I think that this artist tried to represent the struggle of climbing towards the glass ceiling. Not actually using glass for the ceiling reflects the obscurity of what lies beyond,” Jordan said with a straight face.

Megan laughed. “Hey, if that PhD doesn’t work out, you can always be an art critic!”

They moved to the next piece: a simple wooden chair with only one leg at one of its corners, which was kept upright with invisible threads to the ceiling. The chair was standing in piles of saw dust.

Jordan looked at Megan expectantly. It was her turn.

“Well… I think it’s pretty obvious,” Megan started. “This chair belonged to one of the first explorers of the Amazon rain forest. He had back problems, you see, so he had to bring his own chair. One day, he sat down on a big pile of sand to survey the work of his research assistants, and that’s when he made the first ever discovery of wood-eating termites.”

Jordan laughed. “Very good! Why didn’t they eat the other leg?”

“Erm… Well, he would pick his nose a lot, this guy. And he always smeared his bogies on that front leg. Termites obviously don’t eat bogies.”

“Obviously!” Jordan chortled.

They moved around the hall, taking turns describing the art pieces and getting more creative and giggly with each new explanation. Megan never imagined she could have this much fun in a modern art museum. It was only when a gallery attendant informed them that the museum was closing that they realised they were the last people left.

They headed for the exit but just before getting there, Jordan veered off to a door with a ‘staff only’ sign.

“Come on, this way,” she said, opening the door with a flourish.

“Are you sure? That says ‘staff only’.”

“I’m certain! This is where the next part of our date takes us.”

The door led to a stairwell and they started climbing the stairs. Worried they would get into trouble, Megan asked: “Do you know where these stairs lead?”

“Of course I do!” Jordan said nonchalantly. When she saw Megan’s reluctant face, she added: “Relax… We can be here. My brother works here. I pulled some strings.”

That was still very vague but reassuring nonetheless. Megan remembered reading about Jordan’s two older brothers. She was interested in finding out more about her family.

“Is this the same brother with whom you used to make fun of the art works?”

“The very one: Clay. He went on to work here, so he now needs to know the real stories behind the art too. Much less fun that way.”

“And you have a little sister too,” Megan said, trying to trigger Jordan into telling her more.

“Yeah, Tasha, the little monkey. And I have another brother, Lloyd. He’s the oldest.”

“Wow, big family!”

“Yeah, we’re close too. Tasha is obviously a bit of a later addition but I really liked growing up with two older brothers. We were always roughhousing together. Although they are stupidly protective over me too. You should have seen them trying to keep me from boxing! And now Tasha keeps begging me to teach her. I’m her role model, I think.” Jordan laughed.

Megan wanted to ask more but they reached the top of the stairs and went through a heavy fire escape door. They stepped onto the roof of the building.

“Ta-da!” Jordan said excitedly.

In front of them was a stretch of fake grass, clearly some sort of improvised roof terrace. Spread out on the grass was a picnic blanket with plastic plates, Tupperware containers, and a cooler box.

“Wow… Did you do this?” Megan said, impressed and touched that anyone would organise something like this for her.

“Yes ma’am. The grass was left from a temporary exhibition, so that came in handy.” Jordan opened the cooler box. “Beer?”

Megan glanced inside. She only had Corona in there. “What if I didn’t like beer?” She asked, laughing.

“Then we couldn’t date, unfortunately.” Jordan winked at her. “But you do, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Megan smiled, taking a beer from Jordan.

They walked over to the edge of the building and stood next to each other in silence for a moment, admiring the view. Megan was acutely aware of the proximity of Jordan’s body to hers. She suddenly craved her touch and shifted her weight so that her arm touched Jordan’s. She willed Jordan to put her arm around her, but Jordan seemed quite content on standing side by side, lost in their own reflections. Shy and indecisive about her next move, Megan just waited.

“Are you hungry?” Jordan said after another moment. “I think we better dig in now, before the sun sets. There’s no light up here, I’m afraid.”

She went over to the picnic blanket and sat down. Megan followed her example, leaving as little space between them as she dared.

She teased: “What about candles?”

“Ah… That would have been a good one! I’ll have to remember that for the next girl I bring here.”

“Hey!” Megan playfully jabbed at Jordan, who blocked her shots with ease and trapped her hands. She held them and gave Megan a serious look.

“Now now, that’s no way of thanking me for the feast I have prepared for you,” she said in a reprimanding voice.

Megan thought of the ways in which she wanted to thank Jordan; to show her appreciation for every moment of this wonderful date. Would it be alright if she went in for a kiss? She smiled shyly at Jordan.

Ever since the boxer had explained her strange behaviour from before, Megan had no more doubts that she was serious about the fact that she liked Megan. She had no more doubts that Jordan wanted more than to get her into bed. Maybe that was why that very thought was looking more and more appealing to Megan. If they were going to do that, and keep doing that, why waste any more time?

Her body agreed eagerly; a warm rush started between her thighs and spread rapidly through her; undoubtedly reaching her cheeks and giving her that tell-tale blush. She told herself off for being premature and letting herself be guided by her, horny, emotions. Wasn’t that what she’d often criticised Rowan, and more recently Jordan, for? Suddenly ashamed, she found herself unable to hold Jordan’s gaze and gently pried her hands free.

Seemingly unperturbed, Jordan started opening the little containers to reveal an intriguing selection of chicken strips, peppers, cherry tomatoes, lettuce, grated cheese, sour cream, salsa, guacamole, and nacho chips. Next, she unpacked a stack of tortilla’s wrapped in tin foil. Megan grinned. That explained Jordan’s choice of beer; clearly she had a bit of a Mexican theme going.

“Dig in,” Jordan said with a proud grin, while she grabbed a tortilla and started piling on her toppings.

As Megan watched her for a moment, she realised how much she appreciated the lack of ceremony in the simple DIY meal. She would never have expected this, but she’d choose it any day over a formal restaurant dinner. She marvelled at Jordan’s intuition about what she might like, or perhaps about Jordan’s personal preference.

Megan prepared her own fajita and dug in eagerly. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was. As usual, she had overfilled the wrap: her toppings were falling out and the sauce was going everywhere. Struggling to keep her meal together, she tried to catch a rogue piece of chicken while licking some guacamole off her fingers. Jordan chuckled, watching her amusedly while casually sipping her beer.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you about the concept of date food?” Megan asked, a bit embarrassed about the mess she was making.

“Oh, I think this is great date food,” Jordan snickered. “It tells me a great deal about a girl, seeing how she copes with wraps.”

She leaned in closer. Megan’s heart stopped; this was the moment she’d chosen to come in for a kiss?! Megan desperately tried to swallow any food remaining in her mouth. However, instead of the expected kiss, Jordan wiped a bit of salsa off Megan’s chin with her finger and licked it off.

“And you have passed with flying colours…,” Jordan continued.

Megan smiled, embarrassed about misinterpreting the moment, and about wishing Jordan had used her mouth instead. She felt shy again, now that their attention was brought to the fact that they were on a date. Despite little pockets of pleasant tension, the whole experience felt a lot like they were two friends having a picnic.

Megan wondered suddenly if she’d put Jordan off initiating anything physical by causing such a scene over the shower move. Looking back, she asked herself if she’d overreacted. In her current state of mind, she regretted not having turned around in the shower and returned the favour; she would kill to touch Jordan’s body the way Jordan had touched hers.

Her fear of being just a booty call had been very real at the time, but it felt ungrounded now. She would understand completely if Jordan would hang back and not risk another freak-out. If this was the case, Megan would just have to take charge and show her that she was not opposed to making this picnic more date-like.

They both had another fajita and another beer, while chatting merely. Jordan told Megan why she’d moved to town and that her father and brothers were all boxers too. Megan knew that already, of course, but she wasn’t going to admit that she’d Googled Jordan. Megan, in turn, told Jordan about how she’d filled her years since dropping out of university and what made her go back.

Talking to Jordan was easy and comfortable and Megan couldn’t believe that a few months ago she hadn’t even known the girl. She longed to extend the strong mental connection she felt into a physical one; to close the one small gap that remained between them.

With a content sigh, she leaned into Jordan, who wrapped her arm around her and moved so Megan could get comfortable. She leaned her head against Jordan’s shoulder and took in the smell of her: that coconut shampoo and a hint of perfume, mixed with beer and nachos. It was the perfect weird combination. She felt Jordan rest her cheek on her head, while they watched the view and sipped their beers. Megan knew then that she never wanted anything else than this: her and Jordan, together.

“This is it…,” Jordan whispered.

“This is what?” Megan asked, pulled from her thoughts. She hadn’t accidentally voiced any of her revelations, had she? Was Jordan thinking the same about their newfound intimacy?

“The perfect moment in the sunset. You have to see this.”

Megan realised to her dismay that Jordan was preparing to get up. Was the sunset really worth breaking up their first intimate moment? Reluctantly, she followed Jordan to the edge of the building and took in the sight that had pried her date away from her.

The sun was only just visible above the rooftops of the university buildings, rendering the sky an unnatural composition of orange and pink. An amazing array of shadows and reflections was revealed, which seemed to move even as they watched. The light illuminated the pond on the campus and gave the old hospital adjacent a spooky glare. Further back, the tall office buildings of the business district looked like jewels with their glass facades. It was a stunning sight and Megan understood Jordan’s fascination. She took out her phone to take a picture, even though she knew it would never capture the full magic.

“Let’s take a selfie,” Jordan said, seeing her with her phone.

She stepped onto the low wall that marked the edge of building, giving Megan heart palpitations at the thought of her falling off. Now being roughly the same height, Jordan hugged Megan from behind while Megan took the picture.

“Aw, we are adorable!” Megan laughed happily. They looked cute together; anyone would have to admit that.

“Let me see!” Jordan said.

Megan handed her phone to Jordan, who studied the picture and agreed they were indeed adorable.

“Hey, what’s this?” Jordan asked suddenly. Megan, who had diverted her attention back to the view, looked up to see Jordan showing her a picture of herself holding a trophy.

Shit. Megan hadn’t thought about the victor photo of Jordan she’d saved on her phone a few months ago. She didn’t have a lot of photos on her phone, so it would have been right there when Jordan went back to the photo gallery.

“Why do you have this?” Jordan asked.

There was something sincere about her expression; she wasn’t trying to expose Megan or make fun of her. Instead, the existence of the photo on Megan’s phone, and its implications, seemed like an astonishing discovery to her.

“Why do you think I have that?” Megan countered, feeling self-conscious.

If she hadn’t already, Jordan would soon piece together that Megan had searched for her online and had decided to keep that picture to look at over and over again; that Megan had liked her for a lot longer than she probably expected.

“But this fight was ages ago… It was when I got that black eye. I can already see that coming up in this picture.” She laughed, and then continued seriously: “Wasn’t that the first time we chatted?”

Before Megan could stop her, Jordan had revealed the date on which the photo was saved and said it out loud, contemplating.

“Yeah, that must have been roughly when we first chatted…,” she concluded, giving Megan a curious look.

“Yes, it was, okay? I Googled you…”

“Clearly…” Jordan was grinning now. She asked teasingly: “And you saved this great shot of me, why exactly?”

There was no point denying anything so obvious; Megan felt a sudden urge to come clean completely. “If you must know, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time… I thought you were so hot; from the moment I first saw you, even before this. And then when you told me your name…” Megan gestured at her phone to indicate that one thing led to another.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know…,” Jordan mused. She added: “I thought it was much later; when I saw you checking me out in the changing room.” She winked cheekily.

Megan was mortified she brought that up. “Oh my god. You saw that?” She knew Jordan had seen it, but she’d been hoping that maybe she’d only seen the back end of it.

Jordan’s booming laugh smashed her hopes. “Oh yeah… You had a real good look there, didn’t you?”

Trying to change the subject, Megan said: “Well, at least I knew I liked you straightaway. Can’t say the same about you!”

“Oh, low blow!” Jordan laughed.

“Unlike Sam,” Megan continued, pleased to have turned the tables on the teasing game. “Maybe I should have dated Sam instead. What is she like?” She threw Jordan a challenging look, meanwhile glad that Sam had met that other woman, whoever she was.

Jordan wrapped her arms around Megan’s waist and pulled her close. “Sam is awesome,” she said, even though Megan had lost all interest in Sam the moment those arms had embraced her. “But not as awesome as me. You’ll meet her. I have to warn you though: you don’t stand a chance. She’s all loved up.” Jordan paused, holding Megan’s gaze.

“And so am I…,” she concluded.

At that, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Megan’s at last. All evening, Megan had been expecting it, hoping for it, and yet it took her by surprise when it finally happened. She recovered quickly and let her lips fold around Jordan’s, tasting the curious mix of beer and nachos. Undoubtedly, Jordan could taste the same on her and, somehow, this enhanced their shared experience.

Jordan’s lips opened slightly while increasing their passionate pressure. Megan felt Jordan’s tongue tracing her lips and slip inside her mouth. When their tongues finally embraced, Megan could feel the sensation coursing through her whole body. She pressed herself into Jordan, who tightened her arms around her waist and held her as if she would never let go again. That would be alright with Megan.

Their kiss seemed to continue forever, yet not long enough. When they finally broke it off, they both went straight back for another, and another, and another; the beautiful sunset long forgotten. Months of anticipation and denying themselves finally came flowing out all at once; they were playing catch-up; making up for lost time. Even when it started to rain, they didn’t let go of each other; rain drops mingling with the moisture from their lips.

Light rain turned into heavy rain and soon after, it was pouring. Megan and Jordan finally entangled themselves, wondering where that sudden downfall came from; a moment ago the sun had been gloriously unobstructed. But had it only been a moment, or had they lost time completely in their embrace? It was certainly dark now and they used the torches on their phones to gather the picnic supplies, giggling as they tipped the rain water out of the Tupperware.

“The building is closed now, so we have to go down the fire escape. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Jordan said.

“It’s a bit too late if I was, isn’t it?” Megan teased.

“Well, yes… I’d have to blindfold you and guide you.”

Megan laughed. “I’m not sure that would make it better!”

They carefully made their way down the slippery metal stairs, holding on to each other and the railings. It was quite a terrifying experience. Jordan apologised profusely that she hadn’t brought an umbrella; rain had not been part of the plan. For Megan, however, this was the best date she’d ever been on; umbrella or no umbrella.

Jordan went ahead of Megan into her tiny student room. It wasn’t exactly a dream palace to take a date home to, but it was where the evening had taken them.

Surprised by the sudden downpour during their rooftop picnic, Megan had suggested they cut through the university campus to try and find shelter under the buildings. Since they were both soaked to the bone, Jordan had proposed they stop in her room on campus to wait out the worst of the rain. She’d been a little nervous to bring this up since she didn’t want Megan to again think she was just trying to lure her into bed. Fortunately, the shivering Megan had been keen on the idea and had agreed gratefully.

“Make yourself at home,” Jordan said. “I’ll go make us some tea.”

She rushed off to the kitchen, unwilling to leave Megan’s side for too long. She had already known she liked the girl, but after tonight, she could easily say she was head-over-heels. Apart from the rain, the date had gone swimmingly. Megan seemed to be enjoying herself and Jordan was pretty sure she’d redeemed herself for her earlier mess. She’d been amazed to find out that Megan had liked her from the very beginning, which made her want to try even harder to deserve the girl’s affection.

When she came back into the room with two steaming hot cups of tea, Megan was standing by her boxing poster, having clearly used her time alone to check out every inch of the room.

“Friend of yours?” She asked with a smile.

“I wish!” Did Megan really not know who that was? “That’s Nicola Adams. She’s the best female boxer in my weight division, or probably across all divisions. She’s a total rock star!”

“And she’s cute too. That helps, doesn’t it?” Megan teased.

“Not as cute as you,” Jordan countered with a wink.

“Oh, too smooth!” Megan laughed.

Jordan started taking off her wet clothes and saw Megan staring at her in shock.

“You should really get out of those wet clothes. You’ll get a cold,” she said, stripping off her trousers.

Megan shook her head and sat down on the bed. “I’ll be alright. I’ll just have some tea.”

Jordan shrugged and took off her shirt. Her underwear was a bit wet too but judging by the look on Megan’s face, she probably shouldn’t take that off in front of her. The girl had that same expression as the first time she’d seen Jordan in her underwear. Jordan grinned; Megan was easily impressed. She slipped into a pair of joggers and a dry t-shirt, hoping that would restore Megan’s ability to have a normal conversation.

“You’re shivering…,” Jordan said, as she sat next to Megan. “And your lips are turning blue.” She kissed them lightly for emphasis.

Megan gave a satisfied little moan. “But that helps. Do that again.”

“What helps is to get out of these wet clothes. I’d run you a hot bath but…” Jordan gestured helplessly at the size of her room. “I think you should have a hot shower though; warm up a bit.”

“I’m not getting anywhere near a shower with you around! You clearly have no respect for boundaries,” Megan said jokingly.

Jordan laughed. “You seemed to quite enjoy it at the time,” she teased back.

This was the first time they’d addressed that situation again. As she said it, she wondered if it had been the wrong thing to say. She didn’t want Megan to think she didn’t take her objections serious.

“Hmmm, I did…,” Megan finally admitted, lifting the weight of the world off Jordan’s shoulders. “I really thought then that you just wanted sex though,” she added, without meeting Jordan’s eyes.

Jordan raised Megan’s head up with her hand and looked deep into her eyes. “I really didn’t. I promise.” She kissed Megan lips affectionately. “You’re not getting off that easy,” she added with a smile.

Megan started to say something but stopped herself. She went bright red. Jordan burst out laughing. What was that thought? She was dying to know.

“What did you want to say?”

“Nothing!” Megan blushed even harder.

“I hope it didn’t have anything to do with getting off?”

Megan’s reaction told Jordan that she’d guessed right.

“It didn’t!” Megan burst out, before launching a well-aimed punch at Jordan’s shoulder. As Jordan started laughing, Megan got up quickly and said: “I think I’ll have that shower after all.”

“Go ahead. Although I now think that maybe you’d better cool off instead of warm up.” Jordan was still laughing as a mortified Megan disappeared into the bathroom.

Jordan took the opportunity to take off her wet underwear. As she kept her clean underwear in the bathroom, she slipped back into her joggers and t-shirt without it.

She fidgeted restlessly. What should she do while she waited? The thought of Megan naked in her shower, just an unlocked door away, was seriously distracting. Once again, she found herself sorely tempted to join her. She might have, if she hadn’t made that mistake once before. Instead, she sat down on her desk chair and played on her phone, not really taking anything in.

When Megan emerged from the bathroom, she was wearing Jordan’s satin boxing robe. Her pink hair was even punkier than usual, clearly having been towel dried roughly. She gave a quick twirl, showing off Jordan’s name in large letters across the back of the robe. She looked so adorable in the bright green garment with the black trims that Jordan was speechless for a moment.

“There wasn’t anything else,” Megan said shyly, when she saw Jordan staring at her.

She was right. Apart from Jordan’s underwear, there wasn’t a single piece of clothing to be found in that bathroom. Even the robe was only there because Jordan had been trying to steam out some creases. Jordan wondered suddenly if Megan had borrowed some of her underwear or if she’d decided to go commando too? She certainly kept pulling that robe together nervously as if she was hiding something. Jordan mouth went dry and she took a quick swig of tea.

“Anyway, I was sort of waiting for you to join me in the shower,” Megan said, casually pushing the robe open a little bit to reveal a deep, bra-less cleavage.

Jordan almost choked on her tea. “You’re joking, right?”

She was about to explain how she would have loved to, but thought that she’d be out of line again, when Megan giggled.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Damn girl. What are you doing to me?” Jordan burst out, grinning at Megan’s cheekiness.

“Well…,” Megan said as she started untying the band that held the robe together.

Jordan moved to the edge of her seat and hoped her eyes wouldn’t pop out of her head with the intensity of her stare.

Megan hesitated and fidgeted. Jordan saw that her hands on the band were shaking lightly.

“I’m sorry…,” she said. “I’m not usually this shy. It’s just… You make me so nervous.”

Jordan smiled at her warmly, her heart melting at the girl’s admission. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said, as she got up and moved towards Megan, intending to take her in her arms.

“It’s not… I really wanted to be all smooth and sexy. And just drop this robe for you. But…” Megan averted her gaze and shuffled on the spot, clearly losing her nerve rapidly.

“Why don’t we do it together then?” Jordan pulled her shirt over her head as she set another step towards Megan.

Megan’s eyes grew big as she looked at Jordan’s now naked upper body, her gaze sliding over her stomach, her arms, her breasts.

“Oh Jordan, you’re so hot…,” she mumbled. “Your abs… They just don’t look real.”

Jordan suppressed a snicker and closed the distance between them. She took Megan’s hand and lay it on her belly, enjoying the sensation of the girl’s hand on her skin.

“They are real,” she said. “This is all real…” She moved Megan’s hand to one of her small breasts. “And it’s all yours.”

She wrapped her arms around Megan and kissed her, their tongues embracing again as they had done in the pouring rain. Megan’s hands explored her upper body carefully, as if she was still questioning its authenticity. A shiver of pleasure went through Jordan’s body as Megan’s fingers brushed over her nipples.

Jordan touched the band of the robe and asked: “May I?”

Megan nodded and Jordan slowly untied the knot. She let the robe slide open to reveal a strip of nakedness down the centre of Megan’s body. Jordan forced her eyes to go slowly and trace a path from Megan’s collarbone, to her belly button, and then to her sex. She took in the strip of light-coloured hair that seemed to show her the way; invite her to follow it down.

With another look at Megan to make sure it was okay, she slid the robe off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Her mind going blank with sheer affection and desire, she marvelled at Megan’s breasts as they were revealed. She remembered the feeling of them in her hands; their soft weight resting against her palms.

She took Megan in her arms again and pressed her naked chest against Megan’s. Her hands slowly traced Megan’s back and found those cute little dimples above her buttocks that matched the ones in her cheeks, which she had first discovered in the shower. Her hands followed the curve of her buttocks down and came to a rest there.

“You are so beautiful, Megan,” she said softly.

“Lose the sweatpants,” Megan replied, rather less emotionally.

Jordan grinned and complied eagerly. As the fabric slid down her thighs, she watched Megan take in the new parts of her body that were revealed to her.

“God, you are perfect,” Megan huffed, almost in frustration, before kissing Jordan eagerly.

Her kiss had a new urgency, her lips and tongue pressing into Jordan’s hungrily, devouring her. Jordan responded by pulling Megan’s body into her and guiding her towards her single bed, where they crashed down rather unceremoniously; a tangle of naked arms and legs.

“I never put out on the first date,” Megan said, pausing. It seemed she was surprised to find herself in this position, rather than trying to stop herself.

“I feel like we’ve sort of been dating for a while, in a way…,” Jordan replied sincerely.

“Yeah, me too…” Sufficiently reassured, Megan resumed her ravenous kisses of Jordan’s receptive lips.

For a while, they were all over each other: rolling and turning; caressing and touching, tangling and untangling themselves, while their lips never broke contact. It was when Megan’s hand slipped between Jordan’s legs and made her gasp in surprise, that they slowed. Panting, Jordan settled half on top of Megan, her head on Megan’s shoulder.

Megan’s fingers slid between her lips and traced her slowly yet deliberately. Megan was a woman on a mission. Jordan moaned as Megan’s fingers found her clit and gently started rubbing it. She propped herself up to kiss Megan again and matched the movements of her tongue to those of Megan’s fingers.

Breaking off the kiss, she let her own hand slide down Megan’s belly and over the neat strip of coarse hair. Her fingers glided into her slit, which was slick with her moisture. Exploring gently, she listened for Megan’s cues as she zeroed in on her sensitive areas. Soon, it became hard to distinguish between her fingers and Megan’s, her clit and Megan’s, as they settled into an intoxicating rhythm of synchronised moves.

Her lips were on Megan’s; then Megan’s voice was in her ear, moaning quietly; her mouth was on Megan’s nipple; Megan’s mouth on hers; their lips met again. It was like a well-coordinated dance that neither of them had rehearsed, yet both of them executed perfectly; complementing and completing the other’s every move.

Megan pushed her hips up and started to breathe faster. Jordan felt herself getting close to her climax too, which was encouraged further by seeing Megan’s body responding to her own pleasure. Continuing as long as she dared and concentrating on holding back her own desire, she kept indulging Megan while raining down kisses on her neck and chest. When Megan groaned loudly while at the same time giving a hard thrust with her hips, Jordan had to squirm away from Megan’s fingers. Close call.

“Not yet…,” she gasped.

“I want to taste you,” Megan murmured.

“I want to taste you too.” The thought made Jordan almost come again.

“Turn around…”

Jordan pried herself away from Megan’s arms. As she shuffled and prepared to get into position, Megan broke through this slightly awkward phase by grabbing on to her thighs and pulling her down over her face. Jordan didn’t have much time to think about how quickly Megan was going to be intimately familiar with her pussy, as right in front of her own face, wiping every coherent thought from her brain, was Megan’s.

There was a brief moment in which they both hovered, not yet giving into the desire of devouring what was in front of them. Then Megan gave another tuck on Jordan’s thighs and Jordan complied by settling herself onto Megan’s mouth. She gasped as Megan’s tongue slid between her lips and started licking and sucking her eagerly.

Overwhelmed by desire, Jordan lowered her own face to Megan’s pussy. She dipped her tongue inside her hungrily and took in the taste of her sweet juices. Feeling Megan’s tongue darting skilfully around her clit, she set to work on Megan’s, provoking small squeals of pleasure.

They seemed to have an unspoken agreement to take their time, each pausing briefly when they felt the other getting too close. Jordan wanted this to last forever; she would happily spend eternity wrapped up in this numeric position with Megan. Inevitably, however, their lust was building and pauses became more frequent. It became harder to concentrate on giving Megan pleasure when the sensations between Jordan’s legs were reaching unparalleled heights. She sensed from the erratic movements of Megan’s tongue that she had the same problem.

Jordan couldn’t hold off much longer and she wanted Megan to come as badly as she wanted it for herself. If they had been in any other position, she would have checked with Megan before starting the home run, but as they were both rather occupied, she decided to take her chances.

Increasing her pressure on Megan’s pussy and no longer intending to pause, she ground herself into Megan’s face. Megan’s lips and tongue were everywhere and Jordan wasn’t sure anymore if Megan was licking or sucking her, or if she was merely rubbing herself against the girl.

She mimicked the sensations to Megan’s pussy as best as she could master and felt Megan’s body responding. Megan uttered a muffled moan and her hands were shaking on Jordan’s thighs, her fingers digging into the flesh. Suddenly, she was shaking all over and Jordan let herself go too. Their mutual orgasm passed over them in an overwhelming wave of other-worldly ecstasy, as their bodies trembled on top of each other and they groaned into each other’s skin.

After what seemed an eternity of bliss, Jordan became aware of the sensation of gentle kisses on her pussy and thighs. Megan was slowly waking her up from her climax coma. Jordan crawled awkwardly out of her position on top of Megan, her legs protesting after being in the same position for so long. Sighing contently, she settled back into her position in Megan’s arms and snuggled her neck.

“Oh my god…,” was all Jordan could say.

“Yeah…,” Megan offered, similarly eloquent.

Jordan propped herself up on her elbow and looked at Megan’s spent face. As she struggled to find the words to describe how amazing Megan was, Megan said, as if reading her mind: “Just kiss me.”

With a smile, Jordan did just that, savouring the irresistible taste of sex on Megan’s lips. Megan responded, deepening their kiss as their feelings became one. Jordan again felt that overwhelming sense of affection coursing through her whole body. As she let herself be swept away by it, her eyes welled up, to her surprise.

Jordan gently broke off the kiss and settled onto Megan’s shoulder, feeling a tear leave her eye. As she listened to Megan’s breathing, she realised with staggering clarity that she loved this girl. It may be a while before it would be acceptable to admit it, but there was no doubt in Jordan’s mind: she loved Megan, and she would love her for as long as she’d let her.

“Will you stay?” She whispered.

“If you’d like me to.”

“I would. I’d like to wake up just like this, with you next to me, every morning,” Jordan said honestly.

“I’d like that too. Although perhaps we could try my bed sometime. It’s a little bigger.”

Jordan smiled and hugged Megan tight. “I don’t need it to be big. I’ll be right here anyway.”

Jordan must have dozed off after that, because she woke up to Megan kissing her gently and caressing her belly.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?” Megan asked innocently.

“Is it morning already?” Jordan felt groggy and it was dark in the room.

“Not quite, but I couldn’t wait until morning…,” Megan replied in a seductive voice, as she rolled on top of the sleepy Jordan. She pushed Jordan’s legs apart and settled between them.

Jordan smiled and pulled Megan closer, meeting her demanding lips. This would be a long and fun night; the first of many.

The post The Boxer appeared first on sexstories.org.

We, that is my boyfriend Marcus and I, were in the middle of making love when I heard my husband John’s car pull up in the driveway. He was home way too early and I assumed he must have forgotten something. Annoyed, we quickly scooped up our clothes and hid in my walk-in-wardrobe.

‘Fuck,’ Marcus said. ‘What’s he doing home?’ ‘Shh,’ I whispered.
‘He can’t hear us from up here,’ he whispered back, his hands groping at my breasts.
‘Don’t,’ I giggled, peering back into the bedroom.

The bed was still a mess but I didn’t think John would be coming up there anyway so it didn’t really matter. Marcus, friskier than normal, wanted to continue what we’d started, on the floor of the wardrobe; me I wanted to wait until I heard John’s car pulling out of the drive before starting up again.

‘Come on,’ he said, pulling me over him so I straddled his waist. ‘I need to fuck you, baby.’

Never able to resist him, I positioned myself over him and slid down his thick, hard shaft, filling me up like no other man has ever done. He pulled at my breasts, squeezing the nipples so hard I nearly yelped in pain.

‘Not so hard,’ I said, leaning over to kiss his sexy mouth as he pouted back at me.
‘Hmm, you love it,’ he chuckled.

Leaning over like that was hitting the right spot. He pumped upwards, thrusting his cock up further as I slammed back down on him.

‘Oh yeah,’ I whispered, enjoying it even more now that I knew John was in the house. ‘Harder baby, harder.’

I was peaking, perspiration dripping from me, as I ground myself down on his cock. You can imagine my surprise when I heard laughter on the stairs and John’s voice bellowing up them.

‘Are you sure no one saw you hiding out near the back door?’

I froze for a second before jumping up to find my robe. ‘No,’ the voice giggled. It was Mary, our maid. ‘I didn’t
see Sheila leave, I must have missed her.’
They fell through the open bedroom door, ripping off each other’s clothing. I was outraged. How dare she! I trusted her. I peeked through the crack again, amazed that this had been going on under my very nose and I never knew.
Marcus opened the door a crack further.

‘Check out her tits. They’re massive,’ he whispered.

I bristled. How dare he perv on her. They had fallen onto the bed, both naked. John’s hairy arse winked at me while he nuzzled between her luscious thighs. He went down on her as though starved, smothering himself, his hands groping her heaving breasts.

‘Oh John,’ she moaned, holding his head. ‘Oh yeah, that’s great. Oh yeah baby.’

Marcus was glued to the crack; probably wishing he was closer to her crack than hiding in here with me. He grabbed at me, obviously very aroused by the spectacle we were watching.

‘I need to fuck you baby,’ John moaned, climbing up Mary’s body.

At this angle we could see her pussy, all wet and glistening from John’s workout. He was kneeling over her, his ugly balls sagging as he positioned himself. No wonder I found him so unattractive. His skinny arse pumped like crazy and in a few seconds he’d already come. Mary sighed as though happy. ‘Oh that was so good,’ she breathed. Bullshit! I knew what it was like to have John fuck you and believe me there was nothing spectacular about it. Marcus was probing his cock into the crack of my arse. I wiggled away from him, annoyed that our session had been interrupted and I had to witness my husband’s infidelity. How was I supposed to go back to my bed when they’d just made love in it?

I tried to push Marcus away from me, but he held on tight. I knew he was hornier than normal, I mean looking at Mary’s pussy had even turned me on and I was straight. He grabbed at my breasts while his cock probed down further. Finding my still wet pussy he slid in easily.

‘I think you enjoyed watching them,’ he whispered in my ear.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I spat back, not wanting him to know that the sight of Mary, now reclining on my bed while John was getting dressed, was turning me on even more than I realised.
‘Open your legs for me, sweetheart?’ John asked her.
She lay there, her black hair fanned out around her like a shawl against my white bed sheets, opening and closing her legs, giggling like a schoolgirl.
‘Come on, don’t tease me like that,’ John pleaded.

She had her knees bent up and now dropped them, her pussy gaping wide open. Marcus began to pump into me harder, obviously enjoying what he was watching.

‘Play with yourself,’ John begged.

She slid her fingers around her wet lips, up and down her slit, with her sexy mouth pouting ohs and ahs the whole time. John was sitting on my love seat, his eyes riveted to her pussy. She pulled back the hood, exposing her clit and began to rub.

‘Oh,’ she moaned. ‘I’m so wet from you. Look how wet my pussy is, see how much I love you,’ she breathed.
‘Rub your clit faster,’ he whispered. ‘Make yourself come.’

She ran her tongue along her top lip, while Marcus grabbed my breasts, squeezing them hard, pulling at my nipples. My own hand stole down to find my clit and while he was fucking me I rubbed my engorged nub.
She was arching her back, her breasts jutting upwards, while she rubbed madly. ‘Oh yeah, you like to watch me baby?’ she asked.

‘You know I do,’ he said, rubbing himself absent- mindedly.
‘Oh yeah, look at my titties, my nipples are all hard just thinking about you,’ she giggled.

Thinking about his money was more like it, I thought. Marcus picked up the tempo and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he came. Mary was on the verge of coming herself when I heard a mobile phone ring. I tensed, praying it wasn’t mine. I’d left my bag on the other side of the bed. I froze, holding my breath. Fortunately, it was John’s. ‘Yes, I’ll be right there,’ he snapped.

‘It’s the hospital,’ he said. ‘There’s an emergency. I’m sorry, darling, but I have to go.’
‘Oh, not again,’ she moaned. ‘I was nearly there.’
‘You stay here sweetheart, just relax, do what you want. Sheila won’t be home until late. Take your time, have a bubble bath, I know how much you like them.’
‘But it’s not the same without you,’ she complained.
‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise,’ he said. ‘In a couple of weeks, there’s a conference in Miami. Tell Sheila you’ve got a family emergency and you need the time off. Come with me? Please?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll be stuck in a hotel room all day like the time you took me to New York. That was no fun for me, believe me,’ she pouted.
‘I’ll give you some money and you can go shopping.

You’d like that wouldn’t you?’ he asked.

The bitch! How long had this been going on? That trip to New York was eighteen months ago.
Marcus had pushed me to my knees and was motioning for me to suck his cock. I was angry, really angry. How dare they! How dare he! He was my husband. How could I have not known?

‘Give my pussy a little lick,’ she purred. ‘Of course,’ he said, falling on her.

I was having trouble watching as Marcus was holding my head, his arm blocking my view. I wished they’d hurry up and go. I needed to get out of this wardrobe and
vent some of my anger. I pushed Marcus away, and stood there, arms folded, letting him know I wasn’t happy. Meanwhile, John gave her a quick licking and flew out of the door. She lay there, in my bed, as though it was her own, rolling among my satin sheets, sliding around, her beautiful hair following her as she went.

‘What are we going to do?’ Marcus whispered.
‘We’re going to wait until she goes, now be quiet,’ I whispered back.

I watched her, her gorgeous plump arse staring at me. She had a beautiful body and the more I looked the more I wanted to lie there beside her, to stroke her and have her stroke me. As though sensing how I was feeling, Marcus whispered in my ear.

‘Why don’t we go in and surprise her?’ he said. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said. ‘She’ll tell John.’
‘Tell John what? That we were fucking before they came in and nearly caught us. I don’t think so. Come on, you can threaten to fire her if she doesn’t do what you want.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Come on. I know you’re a sexy woman and seeing another couple make love like that would turn anyone on. We could use her as our sex slave. Make her do what we both want. It would be a real turn on, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t think it would,’ I said, bristling.

Part of me did want it but the other part didn’t. There was no denying that I’d give anything to have her mouth on me, her tongue licking my pussy, her mouth sucking my tits. I’d love to taste her pussy too, but not after John had been fucking her.
While we were talking she left the room and had disappeared into the ensuite. I could hear the water running. We could do one of two things, either quickly get dressed and leave or perhaps I could catch her in the bath. Catching her in the bath appealed to me. I’d make her beg for my forgiveness. I’d allow her to promise me anything just to keep her job. Yes, that’s what I’d do.
Marcus and I quickly got dressed and I told him to wait until he heard me coughing before coming back upstairs. He snuck out of the room, eager for this to play out to his advantage. Meanwhile I tried to compose myself before opening the ensuite door.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I demanded, feigning outrage.

She turned to see me standing there. Shocked, her hair piled up on her head, she looked absolutely gorgeous, as her big eyes stared worriedly at me. Wispy pieces had fallen down over her luscious breasts, which were half submerged under bubbles. I could barely tear my eyes away.

‘Oh, I’m sorry…I…er…um,’ she stuttered. What could she possibly say?
‘Get out of my bath at once,’ I demanded.

She stood, water cascading down her amazing body. I’d never been so turned on in my life. What should I do now? I wanted her in the bath with me, to wash, caress and hold me. She grabbed a towel and tried to hurry from the room.

‘Not so quickly,’ I said, slowly dropping my clothes onto the floor. She stood there staring, rigid like a statue.
‘I’ve always wanted a full body wash and massage. I think under the circumstances you’ll be happy to help me out with that now, wouldn’t you, Mary?’
‘Yes, Miss, I’d be happy to,’ she stumbled, clearly surprised at this turn of events.

I lowered myself into the spa and beckoned her over. As quick as a flash she was in there with me, washing my body, careful not to touch any private areas. But that’s not what I wanted. I wanted her to squirm, to beg me to keep her on, to beg me to allow her to do anything I desired.

‘Can I wash your breasts?’ she asked, clearly realising that this was more than just some help bathing. Good. I wanted her to work hard at pleasing me before I let Marcus join this party.
‘Yes, you can,’ I said.

God, it was heavenly. Her soft fingers kneaded my flesh, washing soapy hands over me, lingering on my nipples until they stood out on their own, a clear indication I was enjoying this on a sexual level. Her beautiful brown eyes stared at me, before her long black lashes looked down at my heaving breasts. Slowly she moved closer and I made no attempt to stop her. I watched mesmerised as her soft lips descended upon me to lick and tantalise my nipple before sucking as much of my breast into her gorgeous mouth as she could.

My head fell back against the pillow that was cushioned there and I let out a wonderful sigh of enjoyment. Her hand moved down between my legs and she parted them so she could move in between them. What bliss. With my eyes closed I felt her fingers searching until she located my clit. She pinched at it lightly before entering me.

With the warm water lapping at my body I slipped into a dreamlike trance. Her mouth and fingers were bringing me to an emotion I’d never felt before and, as I opened my mouth to moan, a hard cock was thrust into it. Marcus, the cheeky bugger, he just couldn’t wait. He was spoiling everything. There was nothing I could say with my mouth full of cock, so I grabbed at his shaft and dragged him by his cock, forcing him to fall into the spa. Mary just looked at the two of us in surprise.

‘Are the two of you are having an affair?’ she spluttered. ‘That’s none of your business,’ I said.
‘No miss,’ she replied, her eyes downcast.
‘So what are you doing in Sheila’s bath?’ Marcus asked her.
‘I caught her soaking in it when I came home,’ I told him.

I watched her to see if she would go along with what I’d planned. I knew she was having an affair with John but she didn’t know that I knew. I also saw how her eyes latched on to Marcus’s massive cock. After having sex with John she was probably keen to have a real man. A young, strong man with a hard cock.
‘You want to keep your job, Mary?’ I asked. ‘Oh yes, mam,’ she said.
‘Then you are to do everything that I ask of you and in return I won’t mention to my husband how you overstepped your position. Is that clear?’
‘Yes,’ she said smiling as Marcus moved beside me and began stroking my breast.
‘You can begin by finishing my bathing and then I’ll let you know what else I’d like.’
‘Of course,’ she said, eager to comply with my wishes.

She returned to my body, her hands caressing me as she soaped me once again. Marcus lifted a breast out of the sudsy water, blew the bubbles that had gathered away from my nipple and lowered his mouth to it, sucking on it gently while eyeing her reaction.
She showed none.

I smiled at him. Yes, this would work out perfectly. I gasped as her fingers slid among my folds, gently lingering over my clit, while Marcus’s hand joined hers and they both paid attention to my pussy.
This was wonderful. I loved being in control, giving orders.

My hand stole down to Marcus’s cock and I ran it up and down his shaft, squeezing it hard, showing him how turned on I was. I wanted to guide him into my pussy, have him fuck me there in the spa, and why not, I was the one calling the shots.
And that’s exactly what I did do. I lifted my arms to rest on the edge of the spa, my breasts floating on top of the water, while Marcus moved Mary aside, grabbed my thighs and pulled them apart. In one quick movement he was inside me, his cock allowing water to penetrate me as he began to pump rhythmically.
Mary just watched on, her eyes wide, sparkling with mischief.

‘You can get out now. Dry yourself and bring us some clean towels,’ I said, wrapping my legs around Marcus’s back, lifting myself up so he could suck on my tit.

We both watched her rise, with water dripping from her beautiful body. I whispered in his ear. ‘Take it easy baby. We’ve got all afternoon.’
Later, after a wonderful massage, I lay back on my bed where she’d been not an hour earlier. I opened my legs while Marcus lay beside me.

‘Lick me,’ I demanded.

She did. Her tongue was amazing. So different from a man’s. It was soft yet hard. Thick when she lapped at me, yet thin when she honed in on my clit. Why had I never done this before?
Marcus was focusing all his attention on my breasts but I saw how his eyes flickered all over her body. I knew what he wanted, so I obliged him.

‘Get down there and lick her from behind,’ I said. ‘Nuzzle into her pussy while she’s doing mine.’

I laughed as he scurried down there and watched as he lifted her beautiful arse up by the hips so her knees were just on the edge of the bed. He knocked them apart and as his tongue touched her she smothered herself into me, licking like a woman possessed, nibbling on my clit until I came in her mouth.
I was so turned on I couldn’t wait any longer for Marcus’s cock.

‘Quickly,’ I demanded, ‘get over here and fuck me.’

Pushing Mary aside he clambered up my body and sunk himself deep inside me. Mary’s hands were all over my breasts and I pulled her closer to me so I could kiss her mouth, taste myself on her. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, with her tongue and Marcus’s cock deep inside me I came again and again.

We spent the whole afternoon making love. By the time the two of them left I was exhausted. I showered quickly and then lay back in bed to rest and plan my next erotic adventure and, boy, did I have fun thinking about it.

Good help was hard to find and I had no intentions of every letting Mary go. With her not knowing that I knew about her relationship with John, I had the upper hand. She’d certainly not tell him about Marcus, he’d have no use for her if we divorced and he became single. This way we all received the best of our maid’s services.

The post The Maid appeared first on sexstories.org.

Erotic story preface:

To the real life Merri: this story is dedicated to you. Your encouragement to write this story down, and your kind words about the rest of what I’ve written mean more to me than you’ll ever understand.

To everyone else: this is a different sort of story for me.

It’s something I’ve been working for a long time, going back several years.

It’s about sexual emotion as much as actual sex, so be patient.

It’s a flashback story, that takes place in 1996. Writing it that way was important to me because there are several elements to this story that are based on actual events in my life.

As with most things that I write this story takes place in a happy alternate reality where people don’t worry about std’s or the need for birth control.

Featuring:

Merri: A twenty-nine year old nurse who hires me as a nanny.

Sabrina: a fictionalized version of myself at age twenty, where I really was an awkward dork who worried about her sexual interests, orientation, and identity.

Hello.

I’m Sabrina. Let me tell you the beginning of a story.

It was the fall of 1996. I had just spent the past two years attending community college after graduating from high school.

I was twenty years old and I still lived at home, with my mother and father. Even though most kids my age loathed living at home, I didn’t mind it for the most part.

My parents never imposed a curfew or asked a lot of questions about what I was doing or who I was with. I’d discovered that as long as I had a job, was working my ass off with a full course load and wasn’t being a selfish slob around the house that they were pretty easy to get along with.

The only area of my life where I yearned for more privacy was my masturbation life.

At that point it wasn’t a sex life. Other than masturbation, I had no sex life. I was socially awkward, and much more into horror movies, science fiction and writing poetry than I was anything else.

As a result, I hadn’t had many dates, and the guys who had asked me out had given me the impression they were much more interested in their own orgasms than mine.

I hadn’t yet discovered that there are plenty of guys and girls who find dorks to be quite attractive, so I was very much a sexually inexperienced and frustrated wallflower.

So my sex life consisted entirely of masturbation. I had my own room of course, and my parents always knocked before entering and very much respected my privacy.

But I had to learn to orgasm quietly, and I really didn’t have a place good enough to hide anything good, like a sex toy.

I’d discovered masturbation when I was eighteen, and by the time I turned nineteen I was an aficionada of self-pleasure.

I used my fingers, the handle of two different hairbrushes, my showerhead, an electric toothbrush when no one was home to hear it, and any other phallic shaped item I could find.

I also spent hours with my legs wrapped around a body pillow, simultaneously humping it, clutching it in ecstasy, and biting it to keep from screaming through orgasm after orgasm.

I even discovered an affinity for some kink, and explored that as frequently and as carefully as I could.

But as I happily fantasized about kinky sex and a variety of partners and experiences, I also struggled with extreme shyness, and extreme shame.

I didn’t have anyone to talk to about that stuff, and I secretly feared that some of the stuff I was interested in was abnormal.

And I even feared that I was abnormally fascinated with the kinky things that would be considered normal by the people I knew.

So I kept my sexual interests to myself, and focused on my classes. And on reading. And on using our primitive dial up internet connection to explore my sexuality in private.

In the fall of 1996 right after my twentieth birthday, one of our old neighbors from down the block came to see me about a babysitting job.

She and her husband had lived next door to us for a few years, but they’d divorced, and she’d sold that house and moved about five miles away into a small split-level house. Her former babysitter had just left for college out of state, and she looked me up.

Her name was Meredith and at twenty-nine she was nine years older than me, but we reconnected quickly and were immediately comfortable with each other. She worked as a nurse in at the local hospital and was gone from late afternoon until after midnight most nights, so she needed someone to make the kids dinner and get them to bed.

I accepted the job and would get to her house a few minutes after the kids got off the school bus every afternoon.

As soon as they said goodbye to their mom, I’d get dinner started, find something around the house that needed done like laundry, vacuuming, or dusting, and then feed the kids, help them with homework, play games with them, watch tv, and then chase them to bed.

After two weeks Meredith insisted that I begin to call her Merri. She explained that she’d always spelled it that way to be different from all the other ‘Mary’s’ that she knew.

She gave me a key to her house and announced that she was changing my job title from ‘babysitter’ to ‘part-time nanny’ because of my insistence on helping with cleaning and other household stuff.

Since she worked until well after midnight, I would often sleep for a few hours on her sofa, and then she’d wake me up when she got home so I could drive back to my parents’ house and my own bed.

On one particularly rainy night she woke me up and gave me an extra blanket, insisting that I just stay on the sofa until morning. After that staying the night on the sofa and then heading home early in the morning became the norm for a few weeks.

And then one Monday when I got there, she told me that she’d moved her bedroom downstairs to what had been a game room off the family room. The previous owners had put some money into it, putting in a full bathroom and hot tub down there.

So she christened that the new ‘master’ bedroom, and splurged on herself and purchased a new waterbed and all new bedroom furniture.

She offered me her old bedroom upstairs as a place I could stay whenever I wanted an uninterrupted night of sleep, or the weather wasn’t cooperative.

She let me keep a change of clothes in the closet, and since her old bedroom was the old master bedroom, it had its own bathroom I could use if I needed to shower while I was there.

We fell into a very comfortable routine. Having my own space upstairs made it easier to fall asleep after the kids were in bed, and I got in the habit of staying over a few nights a week.

The worse the weather, the more likely I was to just plan on staying the night, and with the ability to bring a change of clothes and shower there in the morning, I could leave for classes right from there.

My parents didn’t mind this arrangement at all, if I let them know in advance when I would be staying over so they didn’t worry.

Merri seemed like a complete grownup to me, and I often had to remind myself that she was closer to my age than to my mom’s age.

As time went on, I got more and more comfortable with her, and came to regard her more as an almost older sister than anything else. She would ask me about the social aspects of college, and about my dating life (which was nearly non-existent), and she gave me pointers on makeup and clothes.

If I didn’t have class the next day, or if she had the next day off, I’d sometimes be awake when she got home, and we’d sit up and talk for an hour or more.

Occasionally if she’d worked overtime, she’d get home on Friday evening just after nine p.m. and those nights were often like a slumber party, with the two of us sitting in her dark living room and talking and giggling until almost dawn.

I found I could use her as a sounding board, asking questions about dating and boys.

“You know you can ask me anything.” She’d said one night, as we sat on opposite ends of her couch sipping hot tea in the light of a flickering candle.

“I guess so.” I’d replied.

“I mean it.” She said. “When I was your age, I had no one to talk to about dating, or guys, or sex or orgasms or kissing or anything like that. So, if you ever have something you want to talk about, or ask about, no matter what it is, just let me know.”

That exchange stuck with me for weeks, largely because I was so worried about my sexual interests.

While the internet in those days wasn’t what it would soon become, I used it to read all about the things I was interested in.

I read all about oral sex, both giving and receiving. I spent hours touching my swollen clit and wondering what a tongue would feel like flicking over it.

I licked my fingers after touching myself and wondered what it would be like to taste my own arousal on a hard cock after it had been inside me. I wondered if another woman’s aroused clit would taste different than my own did on my fingers.

I read all about giving blow jobs. I wondered endlessly what a male’s cum would taste like, and what it would feel like to have a hard penis ejaculate in my mouth.

I wondered if another woman would really be able to lick my cunt better than a man could.

I would masturbate with the handle one hairbrush in my cunt and the other in my mouth, pretending two different cocks were feeling pleasure from my body at once.

I learned that I wasn’t alone in my sexual interests. But I worried about the intensity of my masturbation sessions.

I sometimes would make myself orgasm two different times in one night, and I’d do so while using a variety of fantasies and imagined scenarios involving both real people and made-up strangers.

And those fantasies also included an entire menu of kinky sex acts that I was sure most people my age had never even considered or heard of.

I worried that I was masturbating too much.

I worried that I was putting too much imagination into it, and that somehow, I should be putting that energy into real sex, and if I couldn’t find real sex I should wait in frustration until I could.

I would sometimes hike into the woods by myself in the summer so I could be undressed and masturbate in the warm summer sun, choosing my locations carefully so I wouldn’t be caught.

In those moments of pure lust I would pretend that I was masturbating in front of a partner.

Or a stranger.

Or a crowd.

I worried that I was somehow sexually broken because I not only enjoyed those things but needed to do them. And I worried about the fact that every time I swore that I would quit I’d end up right back in the middle of my fantasies, sweaty in my bed grunting and grinding my way towards ‘just one more’ orgasm.

Other girls my age were giggling about sex with their boyfriends, or about how to end a blowjob before getting cum in their mouth, and about how much of a mess an aborted blowjob or a handjob could cause.

I listened and laughed along, but desired more than quick sex just to make a guy happy. I wanted to feel a guy cum inside me.

Hell, some nights I felt like I needed to feel a guy cum inside me.

I didn’t want to give a handjob in a dark car. I wanted to do it somewhere that would let me watch every throb and spurt.

I desperately fantasized about male cum. I wanted it in me. I wanted it on me. I wanted to taste it, to smell it, to feel the texture of it on my fingers and skin.

I tried not to dwell on thoughts about females, but my subconscious knew what my body wanted, and at night I would often have feverish dreams about female orgasms.

As much as I struggled to admit it to myself, I craved an opportunity to lick a stiff clitoris, or to kiss and suck on a pair of female breasts and nipples.

I didn’t want a partner to merely touch my breasts. I wanted someone to suck and bite my nipples while I orgasmed. And even though I often started my fantasies with male sexual partners, at the moment of my masturbatory orgasms it was just as likely to be the image of a women using her mouth on me as a man.

I worried that I was desiring things that made me some sort of a pervert or sexual lunatic. I had so many questions that I asked myself repeatedly.

Did girls really want these things?

And if they did, were they things they thought about as frequently as I did?

Did they fantasize about them as vividly as I did?

Did they orgasm while imagining them?

So when Merri offered to answer any questions I might have, I began to wonder how exactly I could bring some of these things up. I didn’t want her to think that I was weird. But I couldn’t go on like I’d been, and I somehow trusted that her responses might be both honest and helpful.

If only I could summon the courage to talk about my thoughts.

In the weeks to come we continued our late-night conversations, sometimes veering towards the subject of dating, but I could never find the right way to move the conversation towards my desired topics.

One night she came in just after midnight and I was still up reading a book about stress management for a paper I was writing. We started talking about the various tensions in each of our lives, and what sort of things we did to manage those feelings.

Eventually she asked me how I coped with the stress in my life.

“Oh the usual ways I guess.” I told her.

“Like what specifically?” she asked.

We were talking quietly, sitting in the downstairs family room.

“Well I try to take a walk in the woods a few times a week when the weather cooperates.” I told her. “And I read a lot.”

“I need to exercise more.” She said. “Maybe sometime that you’re headed out into the woods I could join you.”

“That would be fun.” I said.

“So what else do you do?” she asked. “You don’t really seem to have any hobbies that I’ve noticed. Except for the pile of books you’ve always got with you.”

“I guess reading is my biggest hobby.” I admitted. “And the only other thing in my life that I have that relieves stress is taking a long hot shower.”

“Oh yeah?” she said with a grin. “Just to get clean, or do you have a detachable showerhead?”

“I, uh, well, I, uh…….” I stammered, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

I groped for an answer, not wanting to admit that I often orgasmed with my showerhead pulsing against my clit, but somehow sensing that an immediate and total denial would be seen as an admission of my dirty habit.

Everyone knew about showerheads being used for personal sexual pleasure, right? Feigning total ignorance would really be suspicious.

And as these thoughts were racing through my head I made eye contact with her and knew that my hesitation had already answered her question.

My face got even hotter and I felt totally speechless. I blinked rapidly several times, afraid that I might even start crying I felt so ashamed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she said, “it’s alright Sabrina.”

She reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tight.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” She continued. “Just about everyone masturbates once in a while.”

“Everyone?” I whispered, my heart pounding.

“Oh hell yes.” She said. “Everyone.”

She squeezed my hand until I looked up and made eye contact.

“Including me.” She whispered.

“You do?” I asked.

Merri was a full-fledged adult in my eyes, and the fact that she would need to relieve lust in that way hadn’t occurred to me. I’d just assumed that most people eventually got a grip on those desires and once they’d had ‘real’ sex they wouldn’t go back to masturbation, even when they weren’t having regular sex.

“Of course.” She said. “Probably more often than you ever do.”

“Really?” I asked, dumbfounded and doubtful.

I wanted to press her for details, to see if maybe she was even a little like me, but I had no idea how to steer the conversation that way.

“Oh yes.” She assured me. “All the time.”

“How……like when…..how much?” I whispered, moving my eyes down to stare at the coffee table.

“Sabrina there’s no limit on how much is normal if that’s what you’re worried about.” She said, squeezing my hand again. “I don’t do it every night, but I do it most nights. Sometimes more than once. It’s been an important part of my life for years.”

I looked up and we made eye contact again.

“It’s something I really enjoy.” She said. “And it’s about the best stress relief there is.”

I couldn’t help but grin, relief mixing in with my embarrassment as I came to terms with this new information. Maybe I wasn’t as weird as I thought I might be.

“Me too.” I confessed. “It’s just about the most relaxing thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s one of the things that has gotten me through the last two years.” She giggled. “Without being able to make myself cum I’d have gone out of my mind.”

“I didn’t……I guess I never thought that…….” I stammered, still trying to process this information.

“I guess most women try it at some point.” She said. “But college is probably where most of us really discover the difference between quick orgasms and the ones with a long, slow build up that really count.”

“That’s how it’s worked for me.” I said.

“Can I ask you a really personal question Sabrina?” she asked.

“Sure.” I said, wondering why I suddenly felt an erotic flush spread through me.

“Is it just a shower thing for you?” she asked. “Or have you discovered some of the even better ways?”

“I’ve done a lot of different ways.” I said. “I first tried the showerhead because I was curious, and then just did that once in a while for a couple months. And then….well something happened that helped.”

“What was it?” she asked softly.

“I found a paperback book. In a pile of donated books in the college library.” I told her. “It was a novel, but it was all about sex. I was reading it in bed, and it was really pretty graphic. Suddenly I realized that I was responding to it.”

“I get that.” She said. “I love to read erotica. The right story can make me so deliciously horny.”

I giggled to hear her use the word ‘horny’.

“That’s what happened to me.” I said. “I tried to keep reading and just ignore it, but I figured out that knowing I was turned on made the story even better, and the story made me even more turned on.”

“I may want to borrow that book.” She teased.

“I got embarrassed after what happened and I threw it away.” I told her.

“After what happened?” she asked. “What happened to embarrass you?”

“While I was reading I put a pillow between my legs to sort of….just to kind of…..” I wasn’t even sure how to explain it.

Fortunately she understood.

“Because when you’re getting turned on it feels good to have something to push against Sabrina.” She whispered. “That’s natural.”

“Well I just kept reading and the pillow was there, and the more I read the more intense everything felt.” I told her. “I turned off the lights and was reading with a flashlight, and suddenly I just lost control, and it was like the showerhead only a thousand times better.”

“And that embarrassed you?” she asked me.

“I thought I was a pervert.” I told her. “So I got rid of the book and vowed to never do it again.”

“How long did you wait?” she asked. “Before you tried it again?”

“About four days.” I said softly.

“That sounds so much like my story.” She said with a smile. “I watched a video in my dorm room that turned me on, and I realized that the showerhead was nothing. Afterwards I was really embarrassed, but before long I was doing it every chance I got.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh yes Sabrina.” She said. “There’s not one damn thing wrong with you. In fact you sound pretty normal.”

I can’t emphasize enough how important that conversation with Merri was to me.

I had lived in such fear of someone finding out that I touched myself for pleasure, and here I was telling someone I liked and admired and she was telling me it was normal.

So normal that she’d admitted to doing it too.

Still I’d have died if anyone in my family had found out.

And lurking in the back of my mind was the worry that if Merri knew all the details of my fantasy life she might not consider me normal at all.

Our conversation drifted to other things that night, and eventually I went upstairs to my guest room, and she went to her own bedroom.

However, I lay awake for a long time, wondering how I could have kept the conversation on the topic of masturbation and pleasure, and worrying that the chance would never come up again.

The conversation had aroused me. Not in an erotic way, but maybe my body felt a certain jolt of freedom from her confession, that signaled to my brain that it was alright to be horny.

That night I crossed a line I’d never crossed before.

I fingered myself to orgasm in her guest room.

In all my months of sleeping over at her house I’d never done that before, saving my orgasmic needs to be met in the privacy of my own bed at home. I’d felt like touching myself in her house would somehow make me extra dirty.

But laying there in the dark I let my fingers drift down into my pajama pants, and I found that I was wet with hot desire. I spread my legs and my practiced fingers went on either side of my clit, sliding up and down slowly and pushing in a soft circle over my swollen lips every few moments.

I felt a delicious tension of lustful pressure build in my loins, and I pulled the pillow from under my head and clutched it on my chest, ready to bury my face in it and smother any noises I might make when my orgasm arrived.

In my mind’s eye the pillow became a person in my fantasy.

It became Merri, her head on my chest as I held onto her tight and fingered the needy wetness between my legs.

Thinking about Merri brought my pleasure closer, and I started rolling my hips and squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers moving faster and faster as my belly tightened.

I wondered if Merri masturbated on her back like I did, and I had a sudden lustful picture in my head of her laying in her bed with her legs spread and her fingers busy.

And suddenly I realized something.

She’d said “I don’t do it every night, but I do it most nights. Sometimes more than once. It’s been an important part of my life for years.”

If she did it most nights that meant that on at least one of the nights I’d been up in this guest room, she’d been directly beneath me, making herself have an orgasm. Or two.

That thought pulled me over the edge, and my body hunched up as my pussy clenched and spasmed against my fingers as my orgasm pounded through my body.

It went on longer than I’d thought it would, and when my body relaxed back against the mattress, I took in several deep shuddering breaths.

I lay there feeling my thudding heart slow down, and I brought my fingers to my mouth and licked at the tangy flavor of my own arousal and pleasure. I could smell my lust on my fingertips, and I closed my eyes and savored my post orgasmic feeling of peace.

When I woke up the next morning I smelled my fingers again, feeling a surge of lust twist through me at the memory of the night before. Reluctantly I got out of bed and got cleaned up, denying my desire to stay under the cover and explore my lust.

For the next couple of weeks our routine remained the same. I’d stay at my parent’s house on the weekends, but during the week I’d mostly stay at Merri’s, keeping clothes in the guest room closet, food in her kitchen, and even doing some of my laundry there at her insistence.

We even stopped calling it the ‘guest room’ and it became, at least unofficially, ‘Sabrina’s room’.

Our late-night conversations were still few and far between, and when they did happen they didn’t offer an opportunity for me to conversationally guide them back towards sex.

Ever since our talk about masturbation I felt better about the frequency of my habit, but I still struggled with my interest in perversion. My friends talked about sex often, but their conversations were more aimed at the social and dating aspects. None of them seemed to share my ‘interest level’ in exploring pleasure.

As fall slid into winter, the weather grew colder and the threat of snow became ever present. I made sure I had extra clothes at Merri’s in case I ever got snowed in there, or in case Merri got snowed in at work and I ended up staying with the kids longer than planned.

~~~

One particularly snowy Wednesday afternoon in early December I got to Merri’s house just as the weather service announced a school closure for the next two days. The kids were extra wound up with this news, and I felt pretty good too, since that meant no classes at the college for me either.

Merri left early for work, giving herself extra time on the icy roads, and while the kids played video games (something they rarely were allowed to do on school nights) I cracked open my books and started on my homework, hoping to get it done so I could enjoy the next few days off.

After about three hours I got up from the table and put my books away. I was just starting to set the table so the kids and I could eat when the phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Sabrina! I just thought I’d let you know that the kid’s dad is going to be by in a bit to get them.” Said Merri.

Merri’s ex-husband was a teacher, and he and Merri got along well enough that they didn’t rely on any court decided visitation schedule. They just did what they felt was best for the kids.

“Okay.” I said. “Do I need to get anything ready for them?”

“Just make sure they each take enough clothes for a few extra days, and their winter stuff.” Merri said. “And one more favor?”

“Anything.” I said.

“In the top drawer of my dresser I have a flashlight.” She said. “Could you get it and leave it on the kitchen counter for me? If the storm kills the power I could at least find a light as soon as I stumble in from the garage.”

“Sure thing.” I told her.

“Thank you.” She said. “Once the kids are gone feel free to take off for the weekend if you like. No sense sitting in the empty house until I get home.”

“Sounds good.” I replied. “Have a good weekend.”

I hung up the phone and got the kids headed upstairs to pack. They were used to going to their dad’s, so I offered only an occasional suggestion or reminder about what to put into their bags, and then they were ready.

Before long their dad arrived, and with a lot of noise and happy energy the three of them loaded up their stuff and they were on their way.

As I watched them back out of the driveway I realized that this was the first time I’d ever been alone in the house.

I went down the half flight of stairs into the family room and walked into Merri’s bedroom. I had only been in here once when she’d first set it up, and I felt suddenly strange, like I was snooping where I didn’t belong.

I went to her dresser and pulled open the top drawer, and suddenly froze in embarrassed shock.

There was a flashlight in there all right, along with three glass candles, and a box of wooden matches.

But lying next to all that was a white plastic vibrator. I stared at it for a long moment. My instinct was to grab the flashlight and slam the drawer closed and pretend I hadn’t seen it.

But the curious lust in my stomach so badly wanted to touch it.

Truth be told I wanted to do more than touch it.

I wanted to smell it.

I wanted to taste it.

I wanted to twist the bottom of it and discover what the vibrations would feel like against my hand. Against my thigh. Against my pussy lips. Inside my hole.

I reached a finger out towards it, but hesitated. Merri wasn’t merely an object of an orgasmic fantasy. She was my friend, and this would feel like a betrayal.

She probably hadn’t meant for me to see this.

I stared longingly for another few moments, and then took out the flashlight and slid the drawer closed and returned to the kitchen.

I had some clothes in her dryer and I went to the laundry room to retrieve them, planning to take most of my clothes back to my parents for the long weekend.

But when I got to the laundry room my heart began to thud again. On top of the dirty clothes basket were the clothes Merri had been wearing before she changed and left for work.

And on top of the dirty clothes, were a pair of lacy purple panties.

Without realizing what I was doing I suddenly realized I had picked them up.

As I stood there holding her panties, I had an almost irresistible urge to sniff them. I often sniffed my own panties, especially if I’d been aroused or worn them to masturbate in, and I wondered if her scent would be anything like my own.

But somehow that would also feel like a violation to me, like I was invading her personal space.

On the other hand, these weren’t in her room. They were right here in the laundry room where she obviously didn’t care if I saw them.

And I was already holding them.

I brought them to my nose and closed my eyes, breathing in her smell. Even though I had never smelled Merri in this sort of way before, I was certain that I would have known that this was her scent even if I didn’t know they were her panties.

I felt a primal pull towards her, and realized that my nipples were hard, my hands were sweating, I was breathing hard, and my own pussy was drenched with desire.

I dropped her panties back on the laundry pile and gathered up my own laundry and carried it to my room. Alone in my room I had a fantasy of retrieving her panties from the laundry basket and masturbating while inhaling her scent.

But my fear of somehow being caught, even though I was alone in the house, far outweighed my desire for an immediate orgasm. I could make myself wait until I got back to my own house.

I went back into the kitchen, with a sense of guilt. I decided to give the house a quick cleaning, as a way of bringing some peace to the shame I felt for having seen her sex toy and then sniffing the crotch of her panties.

I washed the bowls and cups from the kids after school snack, and then got out the vacuum and ran it in the upstairs hallway, all three bedrooms up there, the living room and finally down in the family room. I was about to put it away when I decided to run it in her bedroom as well.

I usually didn’t run it in any of the bedrooms, just sticking to the common areas of the house and the upstairs hallway. However, I was now using one of the bedrooms, and I’d been in the kids’ rooms helping them pack, so it didn’t feel like I was intruding to vacuum in them.

She always left her bedroom door open, so I’d seen into her room almost every time I was in the family room. And it wasn’t like I’d be violating her personal space too much since she’d already sent me in there to get the flashlight.

I pushed the vacuum into her room, and soon had her carpet finished. As I was winding up the cord, I looked around the room, and again felt that odd feeling of being alone in the house.

Not just alone in the house, but alone in Merri’s bedroom.

Alone in the room where she masturbated.

Alone in the room where she pushed the vibrator up into herself.

I took the vacuum back to the hall closet, wondering what was happening to me.

I’d never been romantically attracted to women. My whole life males had been the object of my romantic fantasies, crushes, and as I grew older my sexual attention.

But females sometimes factored into my sexual fantasies. Not so much as the objects of my desire, but certainly as supporting parts of my lust. Although I would often awaken in the middle of the night and realize that I’d been having intense sex with another woman in one of my dreams.

I had no real sexual feelings for Merri, except for the closeness I felt for her as a friend, and the small part of me that knew something intimate about her, and that she knew something intimate about me.

Standing alone in her kitchen, I thought about how she’d not only given me a job but had made me feel welcome and loved. She’d even let me into a private part of her life and had been kind and gentle with something that I was deeply ashamed of.

I realized that I was feeling an affection for her that I hadn’t ever experienced before.

Not a romantic crush, but almost like that.

Not lust, but almost like that too.

Definitely not a family sort of affection.

I stood still pondering it for a moment and decided that just like so many other parts of my private life it was just something I couldn’t really define.

Suddenly I felt a cold draft across my neck and turned around with a start to see Merri coming in from the garage.

“Why are you home so early?” I asked her.

“They’re closing everything down out there.” She told me. “So they sent me home in case they need me later in the weekend.”

“Well I’ll be out of your hair soon.” I told her. “I just stuck around long enough to run the vacuum and finish the dishes.”

“You do too much around here.” She said. “But you’re a lifesaver.”

She went through the kitchen and put her bag on the living room couch.

“The roads are a total nightmare.” She said. “It’ll take you a month to get home.”

“It’s a good thing then that I’ve got nowhere to be for the next few days.” I said.

“I’m going to change clothes,” she said, “and then make some hot chocolate and relax. You’re welcome to stick around if you want to.”

She headed for her room, and I started some water heating. By the time it was ready she was back.

“Thanks for vacuuming.” She said. “It’s great coming home to a clean house. I can’t remember how we got along without you.”

“My pleasure.” I said. “I live here part time. The least I can do is clean here part time.”

“Stick around for a cup of cocoa?” she asked.

“Sure.” I grinned.

“Grab that flashlight in case the power goes out and take it down to the family room.” She said. “I’ll bring the drinks.”

I picked up the flashlight and carried it down to the family room, and in a few moments she joined me, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate.

I settled in on the sofa, and she turned off all the lights except a tiny one on top of her tv. Listening to the wind howl outside made the dark room seem cozy and peaceful.

She handed me a mug and then sat down on the other end of the sofa, stretching her legs out so that her feet were almost touching me.

“Is this okay?” she asked. “I don’t want to crowd you.”

“It’s fine.” I said. “I’m enjoying the peace and quiet.”

“Me too.” She said. “It’s always a joy to talk to you about life. Between the kids and work I don’t get a lot of interesting adult conversation.”

“I feel the same way.” I said quietly. “In fact the conversation we had a few weeks ago really made me feel a lot better about some stuff I was worried about.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. “Which conversation was that?”

“When we were talking about stress.” I said softly. “And stress relief.”

“Oh.” She said with a kind smile. “You mean when we talked about masturbation.”

“Yeah.” I smiled as well.

“What exactly were you worried about Sabrina?” she asked.

“Just that……well……uh…..that I was…..well…..” I took a deep breath before continuing. “I was worried that I was doing it too much.”

“Too much?” she asked.

I nodded in the dark room.

“I don’t think there’s really any way to measure how much is too much.” She said. “Do you ever do it more than once a day?”

I nodded in the dark, deeply embarrassed.

“Do you ever have days where you don’t do it?” she asked.

I nodded again.

“So what would seem to be ‘too much’ on a day where you don’t do it, might seem like ‘not enough’ on a day where you do a couple of times.” She said, putting verbal quotation marks around some of her words. “Does that make sense?”

“Sure.” I said, and it really did.

“I never even tried it until I went to college.” She said. “I lived in an apartment with two friends. We each had our own room, and one night I woke up from a really sexy dream, and without really knowing what I was doing I touched myself until I came.”

She paused and took a drink of her cocoa.

“It was the first orgasm I ever had, and I was instantly addicted.” She continued. “I had my fingers in myself first thing every morning when I woke up and again every night before I went to sleep. I even used to do it in the middle of the afternoon if I was there alone and didn’t have classes.”

“Wow.” I said.

“I got my first toy on a Saturday morning when I had the apartment to myself for the weekend.” she giggled. “On Monday I woke up so sore I could hardly walk. It wasn’t until Thursday that I felt normal down there.”

“Toy?” I asked, curious lust about her white vibrator tight in my belly.

“My first vibrator.” She said. “Do you have one?”

I shook my head ‘no’, positive that my hairbrush didn’t count.

“Can I ask you another question?” she said. “About what you were worried about?”

“You can ask me anything Merri.” I said in the quiet room.

“Do you ever do it instead of doing something you’re supposed to be doing? Like work or going to class?” she asked.

“Oh no!” I said. “Nothing like that.”

“Do you ever do it while you’re doing something important?” she asked “Like driving, or studying?”

“Nope.” I said. “Well maybe on a study break.”

“That’s what study breaks are for.” She giggled. “I never would have made it through any of my finals in college without those kinds of breaks.”

I laughed with her, remembering how a few nights earlier I’d been sitting in my room studying and realized I had my pen in my mouth. And that had made me think about oral sex and within a few minutes I was under the covers in my bed pushing the handle of my hairbrush into my wet pussy.

“Can I ask you a really personal question Sabrina?” she asked.

“Definitely.” I replied.

“You don’t have to answer of course.” She said. “But since you’re worried about it I’m curious where you do it?”

“Where?” I repeated.

“Like I said you don’t have to answer.” She said. “I just thought maybe you were worried about where you were doing it.”

“Well maybe a little.” I confessed. “Mostly I do it at home in my own bed, or at least in my own room. Sometimes in my shower at home.”

“That’s not unusual.” She said. “What are you worried about?”

“Well sometimes I do it in the woods.” I told her. “When I’m out there hiking.”

“A nature lover huh?” she said, with a friendly grin.

“I guess so.” I said, hoping she couldn’t tell I was blushing in the dark room. “I just like feeling the sun and the breeze, when it’s nice outside.”

“Do you do it where people could see you?” she asked.

“Oh no. I’m always really careful about that.” I said.

“So home and in the woods.” She said. “Anywhere else? Do you do it here?”

“No.” I said softly. “Except for just one time. I feel like doing it here would be like irresponsible or something.”

“Well I do want you to feel at home here.” She said. “Was it irresponsible the time you did it here?”

“No.” I said, staring at the coffee table. “It was late at night. After we talked about it that time. I didn’t plan it. After I went to bed I just sort of realized…..it just sort of happened.”

“Oh Sabrina,” she said, “that’s not weird at all. I did it that night too. The conversation was sort of hot.”

“I felt like maybe I’d crossed a line.” I said, not sure why I was telling her this. “By letting something we talked about get to me like that.”

“We can’t always control what turns us on.” She told me. “Sometimes our bodies just have erotic reactions to things we see or hear or think about.”

She got up and took my mug from me and headed towards the kitchen.

I got up and followed her, unwilling to let the conversation drift away.

She turned the heat on under the water kettle again, and spooned more chocolate into our mugs.

She turned and rested her hips against the counter, and I did the same against the sink.

“Sabrina,” she said, “if you’re not masturbating instead of doing the things you’re supposed to do, and if you’re not masturbating in situations that could be dangerous or unhealthy, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Well that was part of what I was worried about.” I said softly, unable to make eye contact, but determined to find her opinion on my fascination with kink.

“Were you worried about doing it here?” she asked, moving closer to me, and taking my hand. “Because as long as you do it behind closed doors, I don’t think that is wrong at all.”

As embarrassed as I was, in that moment I felt like a complete and total adult. Like she was seeing me as an equal. I wasn’t a college girl in her eyes. I was an adult woman.

“It wasn’t that.” I said. “But that does make me feel better. Thank you.”

She leaned in and hugged me, and I put my arms around her and squeezed. We stood like that for a moment, before the kettle started to whistle, and she kissed my forehead and then turned back to the stove.

I had enjoyed the hug more than I thought I would and couldn’t really understand why. My palms were sweaty, and my heartrate was definitely elevated.

Maybe the combination of closeness and the conversation?

She poured the water into the mugs and gave each of them a few quick stirs. She handed mine to me and then nodded her head and I followed her back down to the shadowy family room.

“So what was your worry Sabrina?” she asked me, settling in on her end of the couch with her knees pulled up in front of her watching me.

“It was…….I was……I….uh…..” I was stammering again, torn between confiding in her and being ashamed.

“Honey, it’s okay.” She whispered. “You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to. But whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone, and I promise not to make fun of you.”

I looked up and caught her eyes and knew that this was it. The single best time I was probably ever going to have to talk about this stuff.

“What you said earlier.” I said softly. “About not being able to control what turns us on? That we sometimes just have reactions to things?”

“Yes?” she said.

“Sometimes the things I think about. The sexual things I think about, especially when I’m, you know, touching myself?” I said. “Sometimes I worry that they’re not really normal.”

“What kind of things are they?” she asked. “Are they dangerous things?”

“I don’t think so.” I said. “Although I’m always afraid what would happen if someone found out.”

“Are they illegal things?” she asked carefully.

“Oh no!” I said, louder than I’d intended. “They’re all legal. I’ve looked them up on the internet, and they’re safe enough, I guess. I just worry that it’s not normal to like them so much. Or to like so many of them. Or to think about them so often.”

“What sort of things are they Sabrina?” she asked.

“I think about oral sex.” I said. “A lot.”

“Oral sex?” she asked softly.

“That’s one of the things, yes.” I answered. “I wonder what it feels like to have it happen. I wonder what it feels like to do it to a guy.”

“Those are normal things to wonder about.” She said. “You shouldn’t feel badly for being curious.”

“It’s not just curious.” I told her. “It’s way beyond just being curious. And it’s not just oral sex either.”

“So tell me Sabrina.” She said. “You can trust me.”

I took a deep breath, and then plunged in.

“It’s a lot of stuff. Watching people have sex or masturbate, letting them watch me, seeing how long I can feel pleasure without having an orgasm, and seeing how I could make someone else last like that.” I said it all in a rush, stopping to look up at her.

She smiled warmly at me, no judgement or disgust apparent on her face.

“I also think about being tied up or tying someone else up.” I went on. “I think about touching a guy while he’s hard, not just a little either, but stroking him for a real long time and making him beg for more.”

“Honey I don’t think there’s anything wrong with any of that.” She whispered. “I’ve tried all those things.”

“You have?” I blurted out.

I was shocked that things I’d considered to be activities that only complete perverts would engage in were things that Merri had done.

“Oh my yes Sabrina.” She said. “All of them and even more.”

“You don’t think I’m weird?” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice from shaking.

She suddenly leaned over and put her mug on the coffee table, before sliding next to me and putting her arm around me.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world I put my head down on her shoulder.

“Sabrina, I think you’re absolutely normal.” She whispered. “Maybe even better than normal because you’re so young but you’ve already developed a list of things that arouse you to think about.”

“I think about them all the time.” I said.

She squeezed me with her arm.

“That’s okay.” She said. “Trust me, it’s absolutely normal and healthy to think about sex and the different ways to enjoy it.”

“I even think about them when I…..uh…..while I do it to myself.” I whispered.

“That’s one of the best times to think about that stuff.” She said quietly. “And do you want to know a secret?”

“Sure.” I said.

“I think about some of those things while I do it too.” She whispered back.

“But every time?” I asked, afraid I was going one question too far.

She giggled again.

“Yes Sabrina.” She said. “I think about kinky and weird things just about every time.”

I closed my eyes, sitting there in the dark with the wind howling outside, feeling her next to me. I had never felt this close to anyone before, and I didn’t want this connection to end.

“Did you tell your parents that you’d be home early?” she asked. “Are they worried about you?”

“No I didn’t tell them.” I said. “I wasn’t going to let them know until I was leaving here. I wanted to finish the laundry and dishes. They’re not expecting me until Saturday or Sunday.”

“Well you can leave if you want to.” She told me. “But the roads were absolutely awful. And they’re probably getting worse.”

She put her hand on my thigh and gave it a sisterly squeeze.

“I think a soak in the hot tub would be just the thing to enjoy during a blizzard.” She said. “Want to join me?”

I was startled by the offer. I swam in our pool at home all summer, but I’d never been in a hot tub before. And with just the two of us here it felt like it would be intimately awkward.

“Are you sure it would be okay?” I asked her.

“Of course.” She said with a grin. “My house so it’s my rules, and I say it’s absolutely okay.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit here.” I said.

“Don’t worry about that.” She said.

She stood and went into her bedroom, and in a moment, I heard the giant tub start to fill with water.

She returned and gathered up the mugs and headed to the kitchen. In a moment she was back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She started for her bedroom.

“Come on.” Merri said.

I followed her into her bedroom, and then through to her bathroom, where she put the two glasses and the wine on the ledge of the hot tub, turned the water off, and dipped her arm in.

“Perfect.” She said. “Let’s get in and relax.”

She went to the doorway and turned off the overhead light and used a dimmer switch to cause a soft glow to shine from three wall mounted lights.

“Do you have an extra bathing suit I could borrow?” I asked.

It was a silly question. Although we were close to the same height, she had much bigger breasts than I did, and while she was fit, I was downright skinny. Nothing that fit her would be likely to fit me.

“I can loan you one if you’d be more comfortable, or you can get in with your bra and underwear on, or just naked.” She said.

She undid the drawstring on her sweatpants, and pulled them down over her hips, and pulled each sock off as she pulled the pants over her feet.

She stood up and I found myself staring uncontrollably. She hadn’t been wearing any panties, and her pussy was completely bare. It didn’t look shaved, it just looked soft and hairless.

She saw me staring and grinned.

“I had it waxed.” She said. “It feels so much more sensitive when I wear something soft and silky. And the hot water feels absolutely lovely without any hair in the way.”

“Did it hurt?” I asked.

“It stings, but the results are worth it.” She said.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“That’s quite alright.” She said. “If I didn’t want people looking at it, I wouldn’t make it pretty to look at.”

I grinned back at her, feeling a flush of pride wash over me.

‘She wanted me to look!’ I thought.

She pulled her hoodie off over her head, and I turned away, knowing my eyes would betray my interest in her body if she saw my face.

I undid my pants as well and bent down to pull my shoes and socks off. When I stood up I heard her foot splash into the water and I turned towards the tub as I started to push my pants over my hips.

And I froze for the second time, caught by the sight of Merri standing in the hot tub, just a few feet from me, totally naked. My eyes were drawn to her breasts, and her areola’s looked dark brown and the size of silver dollars.

“Sorry.” I mumbled again. “You’re beautiful but I shouldn’t keep staring.”

“Sabrina you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” She said softly. “So hurry up and get undressed so I can stare too.”

I stepped out of my pants and pulled my shirt off. I gathered my clothes up and looked for a place to put them, intending to get into the tub wearing my panties and bra.

“Just put them on the floor.” She said. “We’ll put them through the wash tomorrow.”

I dropped them on my shoes and turned to the tub and saw that she hadn’t been kidding.

She was staring at my almost naked body.

“You can take those off too.” She said. “It’s just us here and I certainly don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Of course.” She said. “I think you have a nice body. I certainly don’t mind seeing it.”

I blushed again and hoped that in the dimly lit room she wouldn’t be able to tell.

I reached behind myself and unhooked my bra and hesitated just a moment before taking it off and stepping out of my panties.

I had been naked in front of others in locker rooms several times in my life, and of course at doctor’s appointments. But never in my life had I been undressed in a room where the other person was naked, and it was just the two of us.

It felt erotic, even if it hadn’t been intended that way by her.

I stepped into the hot water and forgot about Merri for a moment as I sank down into the relaxing heat.

“Oh wow.” I whispered, with my eyes closed.

“It’s usually the second-best part of my day when I finally get into the tub.” She said.

“What’s the best part?” I asked softly.

“Having an orgasm. Or two. Or five.” She sighed.

My eyes opened and we made eye contact.

“Five?” I whispered.

“Sure.” She said. “Sometimes. Don’t you ever cum more than once?”

“I do sometimes.” I admitted. “But usually after a break. And then just maybe two times.”

“The next time you get really horny, and you have a while to play,” she said, “tease yourself and make yourself wait a bit for your orgasm.”

“Okay.” I said.

“And when you finally do make yourself cum, just as soon as your orgasm is over wait about thirty seconds and then stimulate yourself again as intensely as you can.”

“I will definitely try that.” I said. “It sounds amazing.”

“Oh it is.” She grinned.

“I might even try it tonight.” I said. “If I don’t fall asleep in here and drown or die of frostbite on the way home.”

“I won’t let you drown.” She assured me. “If you look sleepy, I’ll slide over there and pinch you to keep you awake.”

At that moment the lights flickered.

“And I don’t think you should even try to go home tonight unless you have to.” She said. “That way you can definitely try it tonight. And you can absolutely have some mind-blowing orgasms in that room up there. I know I sure have!”

“Then I am definitely going to try it tonight.” I said, feeling my belly tighten in anticipation.

“I’m really enjoying this conversation, Sabrina.” She told me. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a friend to talk dirty with.”

“I think this is good for me too.” I replied. “I haven’t had anyone to ever talk to about this stuff. I mean I could ask my mom if I really had to, but not someone who really gets what I’m feeling.”

“That makes sense.” She said. “I had a friend I learned lots from too. My parents are pretty straight. They’d die if they knew all the different things I’ve done to have orgasms.”

I giggled again, suddenly feeling brave and horny in the hot water.

“I think most people would die if they knew some of the things I’ve done just to have an orgasm alone.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, stretching out her foot and touching mine. “Tell me one of them. See if I live through it.”

“Okay.” I said. “But this is a bit strange, I think. I thought of it earlier when you mentioned a sex toy.”

“Oh yeah?” she grinned, her foot giving mine a rub before retreating to her side of the tub.

“I don’t have any vibrators or anything.” I said. “But I have these two hairbrushes, with plastic handles. I sometimes push one inside of me and suck on the other one.”

A silence hung in the room, and nothing was moving except for the faint movement of the water. She was so still for so many minutes that I wondered if I had said something wrong.

“Judas fuck.” She whispered.

I just looked at her, afraid to say anything, but unable to look away.

“That’s so fucking hot.” Merri whispered. “Do you have any idea how fucking erotic that sounds Sabrina?”

“I’m not sure.” I said. “It’s just something I really wanted to try one night after thinking about….well after thinking about tasting a cock.”

“You’ve never had a real cock have you?” she asked softly.

“No I haven’t.” I said.

“Have you ever seen one?” she asked.

“I walked in on a guy changing once at the college. Backstage during a play rehearsal.” I said. “But it wasn’t planned or anything, and he wasn’t hard.”

“That’s too bad.” She giggled.

“I know.” I agreed. “I dreamt about it for weeks. I kept waking up sweaty and horny.”

“Have you ever done anything sexual with another person?” she asked.

“Last Christmas Eve I had a date who played with my breasts.” I told her. “Except once he got his fingers on my nipple he just kept squeezing and twisting it.”

“College guys have no idea how to handle breasts.” She said. “They think if they do the same thing over and over it will eventually make us spread our legs.”

“After about ten minutes he wanted a handjob.” I laughed. “And as much as I wanted to try it, I knew he’d tell everyone. And after the way he touched me, I knew it wouldn’t be very fun with him.”

“Once guys get a little older most of them figure out that each woman is different.” She said. “They figure out that part of the fun of new partners is learning what those special triggers are.”

“Special triggers?” I asked. “Like individual kinks or needs?”

“Exactly.” She said. “For instance, I’d guess with you, that sexual conversation like we’ve been having tonight would turn you on far more than just grabbing at your tits.”

“I think you’re right.” I agreed.

“For me, it’s kissing.” She said. “If someone holds me and we kiss for a long time, it builds up so much need in my body that I can cum from almost any sort of touch at all.”

“Really?” I whispered.

“Yes.” She said. “Although I don’t really know why. Except I once had someone kiss me and hold me while I fingered myself. I came so hard with her that I almost passed out.”

“Her?” I whispered, almost to myself.

“Yes.” She answered. “I’m mostly straight Sabrina. But I’ve played with a few women. Nothing really romantic, just sharing pleasure.”

“That makes sense.” I said, feeling my pussy throb in the hot water. I wondered where exactly the line between romantic feelings and sexual feelings was.

“She was the first woman who ever made me totally wet just by playing with my breasts.” She said. “Before that I’d just been with guys who did what that guy did to you.”

“Mine get really sensitive when I play by myself.” I said. “Sometimes I can rub them both at the same time and get really close to an orgasm.”

“That’s because they’re so perfectly petite.” She said.

“You mean small.” I giggled.

“I think they’re perfect.” She said. “For your size and shape they look so incredibly erotic.”

I felt a flush of pride run through me. All compliments are nice, but when they’re spoken by someone you value as much as I valued Merri, they take on a different velocity as they hit you.

“All women have the same number of nerve endings in their breasts.” She continued. “But when your breasts aren’t so huge, they’re all concentrated together.”

“I never really thought of that.” I said. “But it makes sense.”

“Anyway,” she said, “she sort of ‘woke my nipples up’, and they’ve been really sensitive ever since. Or at least she made me aware of how sensitive they get anytime I’m even a little horny”

“That sounds so hot.” I said.

“Want to see?” she asked.

Without waiting for an answer she sat up, her chest coming up out of the water. I could see that her nipples were stiff, with water dripping off of them. I almost moaned just from seeing them.

She sat back down and smiled.

“Our conversation has got me sort of worked up.” She said.

“It’s pretty dark in here.” I said. “But I could almost see.”

“Well then here.” She said.

Before I had time to react, she slid across the tub and was sitting next to me, our shoulders touching. She reached for my fingers, and I let her pull them to her breast. I pressed my palm flat against her flesh, feeling her stiff nipple against my hand.

“If you can’t see, you can feel.” She whispered, and I felt her body quiver.

This time I did moan, my emotions and thoughts swirling through me, but none of them able to compete with the sheer lust that I was feeling.

Between my thoughts, emotions and lust though, it was my lust that was in control, and without thought or plan I slid my hand down a bit, and my fingers took her nipple and pulled softly.

“Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” Merri moaned.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. Her hand was suddenly on my knee, and she moved it softly a few inches up onto my thigh, and even under the hot water the skin-on-skin contact made my clitoris throb.

“So,” she said, her voice thick with lust, “just the guy on Christmas Eve? No other sexual partners?”

Her hand stayed where it was, but her fingers were flexing on my thigh, and despite the heat of the tub and warmth of the room I shivered.

“Not really.” I panted.

“Not really?” she asked, looking me in the eye from six inches away.

I cupped her breast, feeling the weight of her in my hand.

“I called someone from a chat room.” I said. “For phone sex.”

“Did you cum with him?” she asked me, her fingers moving a millimeter closer to my cunt. I could feel the tickle as her fingertip made contact with my bush.

“I called two people.” I said, my voice shaking. “Two different people, two different times I mean.”

“Did you masturbate with them both?” she asked me.

“The first one we just talked, and he was touching himself. I didn’t want to cum when he did,” I said, “I wanted to take turns so I could listen to him without being distracted.”

“That’s sounds very erotic.” She said. “It’s always nice to be able to focus on your partners pleasure.”

“Except after he came he hung up.” I whispered. “And I didn’t get to. At least not with him. I did by myself afterwards.”

“That’s too bad.” She said. “What about the other call?”

I almost asked her to promise not to think I was weird, but I realized that with her fingers close to my most sensitive spot we were way past judging each other.

“It was with another girl.” I said, admitting something to myself as I said the words out loud.

Her fingers left my thigh and touched my belly. I took in a deep breath and felt her fingers tickle their way up my skin, towards my chest.

“Did you hear her cum?” Merri whispered into my ear.

“Yes.” I groaned. “She let me hear her cum.”

“And did she get to hear you?” she asked, her breath hot against my ear, and her fingers like electricity on the skin under my breast.

My belly clenched.

I’d never known the underside of my breast was so goddamn sensitive before.

“She almost did.” I said. “I described what I was doing to myself and I got so close, but my parents got home and we had to stop.”

“You never tried to call her back?” she asked.

I gasped again, feeling her other hand on my other breast.

“Oh god I did, I tried to.” I told her. “But one of us was always busy when the other one was free.”

“Do you still think about her when you touch yourself?” she asked me.

Her index finger was circling my areola, and I squirmed in the hot water, feeling pleasure roll through my body.

“I do.” I said. “Some nights all I want is for someone to listen to me or watch me.”

“You want to share your pleasure with someone don’t you Sabrina?” she asked, her voice thick and soft in my ear.

“I do.” I said through gritted teeth. “I want that so fucking bad.”

“I think you’re like me.” She whispered. “That’s what I crave even more than mere orgasms. I want my partner to want my orgasms as bad as their own, because I want all of theirs in addition to mine.”

“I never thought how to explain it.” I said, my voice trembling. “But that’s the way I feel. Exactly.”

“What you want isn’t always normal.” She said. “Too many people just want to cum. What you’re after though is much more powerful than just an orgasm. It’s a connected pleasure.”

She flicked her fingernail across my nipple, and my whole body tensed as a shockwave of need grasped me.

“Orgasms are fun. They’re relaxing, invigorating, and they can remind us of all the best parts of what we can experience physically.” She said. “But sharing someone else’s orgasm, one you can taste and hear and feel and see, that’s a powerful level of intimacy.”

“That’s what I want.” I moaned. “It’s what I need. Someone who feels exactly like that.”

She moved her finger away from my breast and put both of her arms around me and pulled me close. I melted against her and wrapped my arms around her, wanting to feel every inch of my body against hers.

I felt both completely in control of what I was doing, and at the same time completely detached, as if I was dreaming.

“You do know someone exactly like that.” Merri whispered.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against my own.

“And she’s needed to find someone who feels this way for a long time.” She said, leaning over and licking my earlobe.

I jumped in her arms. My entire body felt like it was on fire and I was trying to press it as hard against her as I could.

“Fuuuuuck.” I groaned.

“More than even being fucked or licked or having a cock to suck, you want to cum and have someone else there with you while you do, don’t you?” she asked me again.

“Oh fuck yes!” I groaned.

I was shaking.

I was shaking with lust, and fear, and nervousness, and desire, and need and with the newness of this experience and with my feelings for Merri and with the awakening of feelings that I didn’t even know I had.

“I want that so fucking much.” I said, fighting back tears.

“Shhhhh.” She said, stroking my hair. “It’s okay honey. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry Merri.” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know what I’m even feeling, except I love it and I don’t ever fucking want it to go away.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to go away.” She said softly. “But maybe we can add to it.”

She pressed her lips to mine, and I pulled her body close, pressing myself against her as hard as I could.

Her tongue touched mine and I moaned into her mouth, stretching my legs out and trying to pull her down on top of me.

I’d wanted to wrap my legs around her, to feel our bodies rub against each other, but suddenly I was under the water, and I came bounding up, snorting and coughing into the air and splashing water all over the room.

I felt embarrassed and stupid for having ruined the kiss, tried to catch my breath.

“Jesus I’m sorry.” I gasped “I didn’t mean to…”

Her lips were on mine again, and she pulled me to her, so I was on her lap. I felt my pussy press against her belly, and her fingers suddenly pinched one of my nipples as her mouth licked tenderly at the other one.

My cunt twisted with a pulse of pleasure, that traveled up into my stomach and through my whole body, causing my nipples and clit to feel like they were vibrating.

“Oh gaaaaawwwwwwwwwd.” I groaned out loud in the quiet room, feeling tears fill my eyes again.

Her lips pulled my nipple, and I wrapped my arms around her head and rolled my hips against her.

She gently pushed me off her and stood up, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. She stepped out onto a fuzzy bathmat, and I followed her, my legs shaking.

She reached into the tub and pulled the handle, and it started to drain. Still holding my hand, she turned and guided me over to a towel rack, where she pulled down a big yellow towel and started drying me.

When I was mostly dry, she ran the towel around her own body, before dropping it on the floor. She took me by the hand again, and I followed easier now that my legs had stopped shaking.

We went into her bedroom, and she pulled me onto her giant bed, positioning me in the middle and laying next to me, both of us on our back and our shoulders, hips, and thighs touching. The only light in the room came through the open door from her bathroom.

We were still holding hands.

“If you want your first orgasm with someone to happen tonight Sabrina, I can help you.” She said.

I swallowed and took a deep breath.

I definitely wanted to cum.

More than wanted, I desperately needed to cum. Even laying still I could feel my clit throb and my nipples were so stiff they were almost painful.

But I didn’t want to change anything between Merri and myself. We had such a good relationship, almost like sisters. It was one thing to talk about orgasms and sex together. But if we did those things, what would happen to our relationship?

“This doesn’t have to change things between us.” She said softly, as if she were reading my mind. “I love our conversations, and our connection.”

“Me too.” I whispered. “I don’t want to screw that up. I don’t want to ruin this.”

I paused, trying to choose my words carefully.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” I said, speaking out into the dark room.

I felt her roll up onto her side, and she let go of my hand, and let her other hand rest lightly on my belly.

I shivered, realizing that for the first time in my life I was in bed with someone naked, and their fingers were only inches from my swollen pussy lips.

“Tonight doesn’t have to make things worse.” She said. “Maybe now that we know that we’re so much alike we can be there for each other. Maybe that will make things better.”

“I want that.” I said, fighting to keep my voice from shaking.

“Sure.” She said softly. “Not just for sex. For sharing closeness.”

Her fingers began to move on my belly, just an inch at a time, and I shivered again, feeling a physical need push against me, in a way that I had never before experienced.

“Merri?” I groaned.

“Yes honey?” she replied, her lips touching my ear.

“Can……can we?” I stuttered.

“Can we what Sabrina?” she asked.

“C-can we…..I…uh…..I n-need……to…..need to…..I w-want…..” I struggled to speak instead of just moaning.

“Do you want to cum Sabrina?” she whispered.

She put her lips against mine, and I spread my legs and reached for her body.

“Oh f-f-f-fuck yes.” I said, my lips touching hers.

I felt her tongue lick along my upper lip, and then push into my mouth, and I grabbed her hip and pulled her against me.

We kissed like that, our hips rolling gently as we moaned and clutched at each other, her grinding against the bed and me humping at the air, my body begging for contact.

The waterbed absorbed our motion, rolling us up and down with each other’s rhythm in gentle waves.

Her fingers touched my breast again, and I grunted with need and lifted my ass off of the bed.

She slid down, and I felt her thighs on either side of my leg. I felt her wet tongue lick my nipple at the same moment her hairless cunt touched my knee.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” I yelled.

She sucked at my nipple, and I twisted my hands in her hair and thumped my ass up and down on the bed, both of us riding the waves I caused.

“Sabrina?” she whispered.

“Yes?” I croaked.

“Close your eyes honey.” She said.

I did and felt her fingers on my inner thigh.

I whimpered with need.

“Just concentrate on what it feels like.” She said. “Don’t try to make yourself cum. Don’t try to hold it back. Just let the pleasure do whatever it needs to.”

Her fingers pushed up along my cunt lips and I let out a long loud moan, feeling myself clench and flutter in delight.

She drug her fingers up and down along my lips, and I felt how wet and swollen they were as her fingers caused the slippery lips to part with need.

She kissed my breast gently and I twisted my fingers even tighter in her hair.

“You don’t have to answer.” She whispered. “But when I ask you a question, I want you to think about what I’m asking.”

“Uh-huh.” I groaned, closing my eyes as another pulse of pleasure gripped me.

“Does that feel good?” she asked. “My fingers on your lips?”

She pushed a finger to the very edge of my opening and swirled it around.

“Teasing your sensitive opening…..do you feel all those nerve endings?” she whispered.

I rolled my hips again, no longer in control of my body.

She nudged a second finger inside of my opening, and I felt a tightness in my belly that I knew was the start of an orgasm.

“Does your hole feel good Sabrina?” she hissed.

And then her fingers touched my clit, and the pleasure caused by her touch was almost painful it was so intense.

“UGFFFF…..UGFFF…..DO……IT……FUG…IS…FEEL…..FUUUUUUUUUUCK.” the words humped out of my mouth uncontrollably.

“Does that feel good?” she asked softly. “Does your clit like being rubbed?”

I opened my eyes wide in the dark room, staring up at the ceiling as my body burned with a sexual tension that it had never felt before.

“Merri.” I begged her. “Oh Merri.”

“What does it feel like?” she whispered.

“It’s so soft.” I panted. “It’s pulling me…..just pulling me….more and more….”

She put one finger on each side of my clit and trapped my clit between them. Before I could process the sharp pleasure that caused her hot and wet tongue covered my nipple again, slowly licking it like an ice cream cone.

“Oh god.” I moaned, feeling my orgasm get closer.

“Is it still pulling?” She asked.

“Oh fuck yes fuck yes oh fuck!” I gasped.

“Do you need to cum?” she asked. “Not just want, but do you fucking need to?”

“Oh my cum,” I whispered, “I need it so bad. It’s never been like this.”

She put her fingers on my clit again and started to slide them back and forth.

“How’s that feel baby?” she asked softly.

“Oh Merri so so so fuck oh god fuck oh god.” I howled into the darkness.

My voice pitched higher and higher, and I pushed my head back against the pillow and shut my eyes tight.

My orgasm had arrived.

It just hadn’t started yet.

“Love this moment, Sabrina.” She whispered. “The moment between pleasure and release.”

She was working her fingers in a slippery circle, and started going even faster as I trembled against her.

She pressed her body down on mine, and I pushed up against her, rocking with feelings I couldn’t describe or believe.

“Ride it!” she whispered.

Her fingers went even faster.

I opened my mouth wide and shrieked into the empty house, my pleasure screaming in my own ears as I felt the pressure in my cunt begin to burst.

The lustful agony burned within me as my orgasm built.

And built.

And built.

And built.

And built.

And then plateaued for just one glorious moment that became and explosion of heat and ecstasy that consumed me.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggggg!” I screamed as it pounded through my body.

I humped and screamed and scratched and yelled and felt a tight throbbing in my clit that I hadn’t even known was possible.

And then I was still, with her wet fingers on my thigh, my lungs heaving, and a numb dizziness in my arms and legs.

I shut my eyes and was trying to think of something to say, when suddenly she shifted and I felt her tongue flick in and out of my belly button.

She flicked it against my abdomen.

She flicked it against my pubic hair.

And then she touched it to my clit, and without warning another orgasm slammed into me.

I opened my mouth to scream, and no sound came out as a torrent of pleasure pushed through me yet again.

She wiped her tongue back and forth over my stiff button as she pushed a finger into my cunt. I felt myself throb around her finger, and when she started twisting it in time with her tongue lapping pleasure against my clit I sat up.

I was unable to move my lower half as she pinned my thighs to the bed, but I bent forward as the orgasm twisted through me over and over and over and over and over again.

As it ended my ass was off the bed and I had all my weight on my arms.

“Oh god oh fuck.” I panted.

She moved again, crawling between my legs and pushing her face into my wet pussy.

I screamed as another shock of physical delight bolted through me, and I grabbed her head and pushed against her face.

“God god god god god!” I yelled, feeling another round of intense pleasure well up within me.

And then I came again, almost as intense as my last orgasm, but longer and so much more relaxing.

I felt as if all the energy and tension inside of me shot out of my cunt as she moved her lips and tongue and finger against all my most sensitive places.

I fell back on the bed and pulled my legs up, feeling her tongue lick against me as my body shifted down and down and down into a pleased state of exhaustion. I blinked as I felt tears running down my cheeks.

Eventually I stretched my legs out on either side of her. I could feel her hot breath against my thigh, and I reached down and rested one hand on the back of her head.

Neither of us moved, and for a long time the entire house was silent, and the bed was completely still.

By the time I could speak again I didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ seemed lame, and I couldn’t come up with anything else. After a while I wondered if she had fallen asleep.

She changed positions again, and she was back on top of me, one of her legs between mine, and her mouth moving to my own.

I greedily pushed my tongue against hers, tasting my arousal and pleasure all over her tongue and lips and chin.

She moaned softly against my mouth, and the liquid fire of lust gripped me again.

We kissed with heat and passion, our tongues and lips conveying our feelings and need and desire back and forth between us.

I suddenly felt her press herself against my hip and moved my hand to her ass and squeezed as she pressed into me again.

Her pussy felt molten hot against me, and she began to grind her slick flesh against me as we kissed.

For a long time, it went on like that, her softly moaning and humping against my body as I held her tight.

I put my hand between us and felt for her breast, her teeth biting my tongue as I found her nipple.

“What should I do?” I asked her.

“I can cum just like this.” She said, her hips pushing back and forth against me.

I held her breast tightly with one hand, and pulled her to me with the other, and she began to pant and move faster.

“Tell me when you cum.” I said softly, kissing her neck.

“I’m gonna.” She said. “I’m gonna cum soon.”

“I want you to.” I moaned. “I want you to cum for me Merri!”

“Oh Sabrina I’m gonna cum!” she screeched, her hips fucking against me as fast as she could move them.

“Do it!” I urged her.

“Hold me tight!” she yelled. “Hold me while I go!”

I pinched her nipple again and licked her throat, and I felt her bite my shoulder and scream against it.

She moved back and forth on me, moaning and whimpering, and I felt her hot body vibrate with release.

I’m not sure quite what I expected after her orgasm ended, but I secretly hoped that she wanted to cum again.

I secretly hoped I could make her cum.

She kissed me again, and then rolled off the bed and went to her dresser. She fumbled with something for a moment, and then I heard her call for me in the family room.

“Sabrina?” she called. “Can you come in here?”

Curious I followed her into the family room and realized that she’d gone up a level into the living room.

It was a more formal room than the family room, with a matching love seat and sofa, two arm chairs, and a small China cabinet filled with school pictures, vacation mementos and the other assorted things families accumulate.

I joined her, realizing exactly how soft this deep carpet was on my bare feet.

“Help me.” She said.

I saw her take one end of the love seat and perplexed I took the other, realizing that she wanted me to help her slide it around so that it was facing the sofa. We pushed them together so that they were touching.

She went down the stairs and returned in a moment with two towels and handed one to me.

She turned the overhead lights on, and then spread out her towel on the love seat and climbed over the arm of the sofa and sat on it.

“Will you join me?” she asked with a smile.

Unsure what was happening I spread out the towel I was holding on the sofa where she indicated and soon, I was sitting exactly across from her, with our legs intertwined.

“I want to cum again.” She announced. “And I need you to watch me.”

She reached beside her on the love seat and I realized that she was holding her vibrator.

With wide eyes I watched her put her fingers against her pussy lips, and work them up and down, making sure she was slippery all over.

Her face contorted with lust as her fingers worked over her lips, and then she was rubbing the tip of the vibrator up and down against herself.

“Oh wow.” She said. “I haven’t cum in this room in a while.”

I looked around, as if realizing for the first time that we weren’t in her bedroom.

‘She likes to masturbate outside of her bedroom!’ I thought.

I turned my attention back to the show she was giving me, and she pulled the vibrator to her mouth and licked the tip of it, getting it wet with her tongue.

“Fuck.” I said softly.

I was gripped by the filthy sight of my friend sucking an artificial cock in this formal room.

She pushed it against her cunt again, this time pushing it inside a few inches, a lewd smile on her face as she did so.

“The first stretch of cock is always the best.” She said. “Even when it’s not a real one.”

I stared as she worked the toy in and out, her lips glistening with arousal, and the tip of the toy shiny with her need.

She pulled it out again and started to bring it to her mouth.

“Can I taste it?” I asked.

She froze for a second, and then held it out to me.

I leaned forward and took her hand in mine and pulled it closer to me.

Unable to help myself I closed my eyes and sniffed it, fulfilling my need from earlier. And this was better. Whatever it might have smelled like a few hours ago, now it smelled like Merri, sexy and horny and unmistakably feminine.

I flicked my tongue out and licked against it, tasting my first aroused female cunt that wasn’t my own.

I pulled it further into my mouth, feeling it against my tongue and teeth, tasting the tangy flavor of her impending orgasm, torn between wishing it was a real cock for me to play with, and glad it wasn’t so I could watch whatever Merri was planning to do with it.

I sucked it for another moment, and then let her take it away, pausing to kiss the tip of it as I made eye contact with her.

She rubbed it against her hole again, this time pausing for a brief second before using her fingers to push it up inside herself.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh.” She sighed.

I was transfixed by watching what she was doing, but so insanely jealous at the same time. I wanted to feel something hard sink itself into my needy cunt too.

She slid down on the cushions a little, and then raised her legs, planting one foot on either side of my head and pushing herself closer to me.

I suddenly understood why she’d wanted to be out here. She was doing this so I could watch.

I reached out and traced my fingertips along her inner thighs, and she groaned as she pulled the toy almost all the way out of herself, and then pushed it back in.

I kept tickling her thighs, looking at her face every few moments but concentrating on watching her pussy lips slide in, and then back out, sticking to the slippery toy as she fucked herself with it.

“Does it feel good?” I asked her.

“Yes. It does.” She said with a smile. “Especially when I’m already horny.”

“That makes everything better doesn’t it?” I asked.

“Always my dear.” She said. “But being with you when you came, that made me need this more than ever.”

I giggled.

“I enjoyed it too.” I said.

ZZZZZZZT

“Oh shit yeah!” she grunted.

The vibrator had begun to buzz softly in her, and I could feel the vibrations along her thigh.

She pumped it a bit faster, tipping it as she pulled it out to touch her clit with it.

“Wow.” I said softly.

This was the single most erotic thing I’d ever seen.

“It’s starting to feel really good now.” She said quietly.

Her hips were moving in rhythm with her wrist pulling the toy in and out, her nipples were stiff with arousal, and she was softly whimpering as her orgasm came within range.

“It won’t be long.” She moaned.

As much as I wanted to just watch, I didn’t want to be left out. I squirmed around up under her leg and using my hand I gently caressed her breast before pulling the nipple into my mouth.

“Oh Sabrina,” she moaned, “that’s so good.”

I sucked it as gently as I could, and let my fingers begin to stroke along her belly.

“It’s going to happen baby.” She whispered.

I pushed my fingers down and gasped at how slippery her gash was. I felt the toy buzzing against my fingers as it slid in and out in her frantic pace. I made my fingertips as slick as I could and then moved them to her clit, pressing hard and rubbing back and forth.

I pulled at her nipple with my teeth and saw her free hand grab the sofa cushion.

“Oh Sabrina.” She whispered. “I’m going to cum for you.”

“Cum for me Merri!” I said with her nipple between my teeth. I flicked my tongue against it. “Cum!”

“Oh fuck! Fuck! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

I felt her clit pulse against my fingers and moved my mouth up to hers and shoved my tongue into her mouth as she screamed again, her body shaking against me.

I felt her hand on my breast twisting at my nipple, and I kissed her harder.

She was fucking herself with the vibrator and panting as her orgasm wound down.

I extended my fingers and felt the toy, hard and buzzing and slick with her orgasmic juices. As I was touching it the buzzing slowed and then stopped. She kept it pushed inside her, and I moved my fingers along her soft and hairless pussy.

I expected it to feel prickly, like my legs when they needed shaved, but instead it was as soft as her thighs had been.

“That was incredible.” She whispered. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Are you finished?” I whispered, running my index finger back and forth over her clitoris.

“Oh sweet fuck.” She groaned, leaning forward. “I thought so……”

I pushed my way between her legs, and licked her clit, before sucking it into my mouth.

Her hips rolled and I felt her hand on the back of my head.

The toy started to buzz again, and I started to suck on her stiff nub of flesh as I pushed against the toy, making sure she could feel its full length inside her.

“OHFUCKSABRINAMAKEMECUMMAKEMECUMFUCK!” she screamed again.

Her feet beat against the sofa and she pushed against me and grabbed my hair and I felt her clit jump in my mouth and I moaned in horny delight.

She rode against me for several more seconds, before pulling my hair to get me to take my lips off of her clit.

“That sounded like it felt good.” I grinned at her.

“You have no idea.” She said with a smile.

“I know.” I said. “I have got to try one of those.”

She held up the vibe and we both looked at it for a moment, and then she looked right at me and winked.

“Your turn.” She whispered.

I was on my knees next to her, and I had intended on sitting back and stretching my legs out, but she knew more about my body than I seemed to, and she moved behind me and bumped my ass with her thigh to get me to scoot forward.

“Grab the back of the couch.” She told me, taking my shoulder and guiding me.

I was on my knees, facing over the back of the couch, and she put a hand on the small of my back and I felt the toy begin to buzz against my inner thighs.

She was behind me, and I thought she was going to push it into me from that position, but instead she put the tip against my clit.

“Holy cumfuck!” I screamed, the pleasure unexpected, powerful, and consuming as the toy buzzed against my erect little clitoris.

I felt the couch move and then I felt her tongue, probing against my lips from behind.

I had never even imagined having someone tongue me from that position, and the physical sensations along with the filthy notion of what I was letting her do took me up to, and then rocketing over, the edge.

“Oh gawd! Merri I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” I screeched.

The orgasm was hot and fierce and roared through me like a freight train, and the minute it stopped another started, and as I rode over the peak of the second one I felt one of Merri’s fingers rub my anus and I bucked against her, shrieking at the top of my lungs as every nerve in my body burst into white hot energy.

~

I was on my stomach, on her sofa, and I felt slick wetness on my inner thighs.

~

I felt a cool washcloth wipe my forehead, and then down my back.

~

“Come on honey.” Merri said softly.

I realized that she had moved the love seat a bit, and she took my hand and got me on my feet.

~

I followed her down the short flight of steps, through the family room, and then I was on her bed, still naked.

All the lights were on, and I saw her leave the room.

In a moment she was back.

She was also completely nude still.

The lights went off, and it was completely dark.

~

The bed rolled gently as she climbed on next to me, and a fuzzy blanket was pulled over me and she spooned against me.

~

“Merri?” I whispered.

“Yes?” she answered sleepily.

“I just…….thank you.” I said softly, my eyes stinging with tears.

She kissed the back of my neck.

“You’re welcome Sabrina.” She said. “I love you.”

“I love you too Merri.” I said.

~

I opened my eyes later in the pitch darkness of the room, and I felt her body against me. One of her arms was around me, and I felt her hand softly cupping my breast.

I went back to sleep, feeling things I hadn’t ever felt before.

Good things.

She’s also been a great supporter of what I’ve published here on Literotica.

As always I really am appreciative of anyone who enjoys, even a little bit, reading the things that I enjoy writing about.

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