I retrieved some wine from the fridge and poured us a cup each, then carried them over to my fold-out dining table where Taylor had taken a seat. She looked around, counting the doors under her breath. "Two bedrooms?" she said when I sat beside her. "Do you have a roommate?"
I glanced at the pink-and-purple-painted door behind her, set a few feet from the door to my bedroom. "No," I said. "Just me."
"Maybe you should get one," Taylor said, sipping her wine. "Someone to help out with the rent. I have two roommates, myself."
"Maybe."
Taylor glanced at me. "Which room's yours?"
I stood and walked over to the other bedroom door, painted red and white. Taylor deposited her knife and gun on the table and followed. Both bedrooms were the same size, and my double bed took up most of the space here, leaving only enough room for a bedside cabinet, a closet — though only one door could open all the way — and a messy pile of books in one corner.
We sat on the edge of my bed, putting our cups on the floor by the door. "I like it," Taylor said, lying back to rest on her elbows. "Your place, I mean. It feels lived in."
I leaned back a bit, too, quirking an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure `lived in' is really a compliment."
She laughed and dropped fully onto the bed, closing her eyes and sighing at the softness. "Well, I mean it like one," she said. The old analog clock on the wall outside my door tick-tock'd softly in the silence that followed. Then Taylor opened her eyes and smiled at me. "So are you going to kiss me, or am I gonna have to do it?"
That made me giggle — I haven't done that in years. We locked eyes as I leaned forward, planting my hands on either side of her to support myself. "I was waiting for you to ask for it," I said. Then I kissed her.
We started slow, gentle: lips joining, tongues probing, testing and tasting, then repositioning for a new angle. I liked to start that way, to get a sense for how my partner kissed. We didn't speak, but Taylor seemed to enjoy it, if there was any indication in the way her hands ran along my sides, riding my clothes up my belly; or the way her legs rubbed and entwined in mine, feet and toes curling and locking my hips against hers; or the way she moaned playfully and angled her head to meet me more firmly.
Taylor's hands wrapped around my neck, fingers catching strands of my hair between them. It hurt a little. But pain was good, in small doses: it made me feel awake. Though I did have to shift onto my knees to stop her from pulling me down.
I took advantage of my new position to run my hands up her belly. She gave a short giggle at the way my fingers brushed her skin. Her flesh was warm and soft, but firmer than what I was used to, her stomach more muscle than flab. I pushed her shirt up and fumbled at her bra, then pulled back to see. Her breasts were small, but not the smallest I've held. I squeezed them gently, rolling the flesh between my fingers, teasing her hardened nipples. This time, Taylor's answering moan was more sexy than playful. I liked it.
She pulled my head down again and kissed her way down my jaw, suckling in a way that made my breath catch and my body shiver. She unwrapped one arm from my neck and pulled at my shirt, and I wiggled a bit to help her along. She threw my top to the side and sat up, pushing me back so I was on her lap. Then she removed my bra and starting playing with my breasts the same way I was playing with hers.
My breath was starting to come quicker, and I heard hers accelerate too, felt it through my hands on her chest and her mouth on my neck. I arched into her, she arched into me. I bit her ear and pinched her nipples, making her jump. She growled, a low and lustful sound from deep in her throat, and then I felt her smile through her kisses as she returned the favour, making me jump and giggle again.
I felt a moment of sadness when Taylor pulled my hands away from her chest, but it was gone the moment her strong arms encircled my back, pulling me tight and close against her. Then she pushed me over, following me down until I was on my back and she was on top of me, the reverse of how we'd started.
Her nipples pressed against my body and trailed along as she slid downwards, slow and methodical, stopping every second to kiss and suckle pleasingly at my skin. I pulled her top off her completely as she went, then moved my hands to her breasts again, squeezing and pinching harder than before. She twitched as I caught her nipples between my nails, then she growled again and tightened her embrace, lifting my belly up. Then set her mouth to my tit and suckled, her tongue and teeth working in tandem to toy with my nipple.
I groaned and writhed beneath her, our legs intertwining until I couldn't tell where I ended and she began. Taylor's hands slid down my back, slipping beneath the waist of my jeans and squeezing my butt. My toes curled, and I found my hands clutching her shoulders, my nails digging into her skin.
She pulled her hands out and unzipped my pants. She yanked them off without moving her mouth from my breast, then threw hers aside too. I heard our wine cups spill, but paid it no mind, wiggling my hips as her hands trailed up my legs, leaving tingling gooseflesh in their wake.
I pulled her head away from my chest. I missed it immediately — she was awfully good at using her teeth there — but I wanted to kiss her more, so kiss her I did. Our tongues met and curled around each other, and we moaned into each other's mouths. And then her hands were at my hips, her fingers picking at the edges of my lace panties. I shuddered in anticipation, feeling the heat and desire in my core compound, my pussy growing wetter almost in exponents.
Taylor peeled my panties away slowly, painfully so. She trailed them down my legs, her feather-light touches making me shiver again and again. After what seemed like an eternity, she abandoned my underwear, halfway down my thighs, before returning to where she knew I wanted her. Her fingers played about the outskirts of my pussy. But she refrained from actually touching me.
I groaned and shuddered again, then made my displeasure clear by biting her lip hard. She sucked air in through her teeth in pain, and I released her. She panted against my mouth for a moment, then dove forward to resume kissing me, and finally gave me what I wanted, slipping her fingers into my quivering pussy. I lost my voice, and with it my breath.
Most girls I brought home weren't great at taking the lead, but in that moment I wished more of them were — it felt so good, so wonderful, to let her control me like this, to give myself over to another woman. So I left myself to her ministrations, let her ravage my body however she wished. My arms and legs trembled as her fingers drove deeper and deeper within me, the air around us filled with nothing but the sounds and smells of sex.
Her fingers made a mockery of my mind, bereaving me of my ability to think, and I loved it. Our kisses became stilted, our need for oxygen forcing us to break apart every other second for gasping breaths. I found my hands scrambling madly at her panties, almost tearing them in my fight to get them off her hips. Then they were gone, and I did what I could to return the favour, slipping my own fingers into her equally wet pussy. She gasped into my mouth then doubled down on my pussy, making me gasp back.
She fucked me like a master. I fucked her like a rookie, unable to focus all my efforts on her. But she didn't seem to mind. Our bodies pressed together tightly, the both of us slick with sweat. Our nipples touched and bumped, and our knees banged together as we bucked and ground against each others' hands. We gasped and groaned and mewled together. My fingers spread her pussy as my thumb teased her clit and my other hand squeezed her ass hard — all while she did the same exact things to me.
Then she kissed me again and I came, whining and wailing into her mouth as my pussy gushed and squirted my innermost juices onto her hand — and our legs, pressed together as close as we were. I trembled from head to toe, my vision glazing over and my back arching up as if I could somehow squeeze our bodies even closer, though I couldn't, with her on top of me.
The haze cleared. Taylor dropped her head to my neck. I could feel her breathing as hard as I was, and I belatedly realised she was also trembling a little. I pulled my fingers from her pussy and brought them up to my face for inspection. My palm was coated in glimmering wetness, down to my wrist. She'd come too, despite my attentions being somewhat... lacking. She must be sensitive. Or out of practice.
I glanced down at her. She smiled, then noticed my hand. An idea occurred to me as I returned the smile. I popped my fingers into my mouth, sucking her juices from my skin and enjoying the taste, not taking my eyes from hers. I made an effort to be as noisy as possible. She watched silently for a minute, then she pulled her fingers out of my pussy — a feeling that made me twitch, as sensitive as I still was — and raised them to her mouth, where she began licking my excretions from between her fingers slowly, sensually.
It was sexy. And it made me horny again.
I finished licking my hand clean, then reached down and pulled my panties all the way off, throwing them off the bed. I pushed Taylor over so that she lay on her back, then rolled on top of her. "Oh?" she said, raising an eyebrow at me.
In lieu of answering, I kissed my way down her body, hooking my hands around her thighs and raising her butt up, leaving her twitching, cum-soaked pussy spread before me, easily accessible.
Taylor laughed softly. "You're insatiable."
I grinned.
* * *
I woke up in the middle of the night. A girl lay beside me in my bed, snoring softly, her naked body pressed against mine. She was warm. It took me a minute to remember her name. I ran a hand down her side, stopping on her hip. She shifted a little closer to me and mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep.
Her splayed-out hair tickled my skin. It looked almost gold in the dim light that seeped from beneath my door.
I closed my eyes and took slow, deep breaths. I lay there in the darkness for a long, long while. But I couldn't get back to sleep.
I sighed and extracted my arm from beneath Taylor's body, then crawled off the bed as quietly and gently as I could. She didn't wake up. I eased open my closet and dressed myself in some plain clothes and underwear — not my lace ones; I only had so many of those, and I wasn't going to seduce anyone now — then I left the room, closing the door behind me.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Four in the morning. I yawned and made my way to the dining table, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from a cabinet by the wall as I went, then scribbled out a short note addressed to Taylor, apologising for leaving before she woke up and asking her to lock the front door when she went home. I placed my spare key on top of the note for her.
Then I slipped my shoes on and left.
I wasn't worried about her stealing anything. She was a PRT officer, and the most valuable thing in my apartment — at least to a thief's mind — was the fridge.
My feet carried my through the ruined streets. I saw a group of men drinking together by the mouth of an alley. But I gave them a wide berth, and they didn't bother me. I made my way through the parking lot again, past the tents filled with sleeping refugees, and entered the hospital.
It was quiet, this early. At this time of day, most of the gangbangers were still asleep, as were their would-be victims, so there wasn't much activity. A woman argued with one of the attendees behind the front desk. She looked like a drug addict. Her cheeks were gaunt and her body was thin to the point of malnutrition, and her arms were dotted with puncture marks.
I ignored her and walked around the front desk, passing a teenager sat in the waiting room rubbing an old man's back as he coughed into his fist. I went into the nurses' call room and knocked on the doorframe.
Sam was there; he looked up. "Amy?" he said, scratching at his beard. "It's only Wednesday, hun. Your shift's tomorrow."
"I know," I said. "I'm just here to visit."
"Ah." He nodded. "Well, don't let me keep you, then."
I thanked him and made my way to the second floor, to the coma ward. The room wasn't as full as you'd expect — most folk couldn't afford to pay to keep people on the plug. Hell, I could barely afford it myself, even with the two discounts the Administrator gave me. But...
I pushed past one of the privacy partitions and sat on Victoria's bed.
...I just couldn't bring myself to shut her off.
The Party
(Автор: Coruscant Knave)
Theo studied the bottom of the plastic cup he'd held for the better part of the evening. It was finally nearing empty; just a drizzle of cheap, amber liquid left. If he was being honest with himself, this was what he'd expected. Oh, he'd told himself this time would be different. It was a normal party with normal people. No stress or expectations, no one hovering near him and judging his every action and no reason to second guess the motivations of every person he met. A chance to actually get to know some people his age he might be able to make friends with, or more.
The surprisingly diverse party wasn't exactly crowded, but there were definitely more people than one would think could fit in the moderate home. It made it hard to approach anyone. Combined with music he didn't recognize and a chaperone that abandoned him to the nearest wall almost immediately, he could only count the minutes until it was time to leave.
He looked up from his little world to scan the room for said chaperone. Ruth, Rune he reminded himself, danced clumsily between two Hispanic men. They were not shy, and she pressed back against them eagerly. He'd asked her, upon arrival and witnessing the makeup of the party, what they were doing in such company. Such a loaded question would hold a completely different meaning to her, but she diplomatically avoided the issue.
A vision in red blocked the scene, a woman making her way toward him. Her hair trailed behind her as she moved and her figure filled the designer dress effortlessly. The brand, something his father's dates had worn at the kinds of parties he was no longer invited to, should have either marked her as the center of attention or a pariah. Most of the others wore simple jeans and t-shirts. Instead, she was either ignored or moved smoothly by those that knew her with quick gestures and words. All the while, her gaze never left his direction, and it was all he could do to pretend he didn't notice.
There was no logical reason anyone would approach him here, let alone someone like this woman. The bottom of his cup held no answers.
