She shakes her head, glaring down at her enchilada. “None of them want to hang around a lesbian,” she sneers. The sheer amount of venom in her voice actually takes you aback a little. “They’re all too scared of the Brotherhood. They even told me to stop being with you if I wanted to stay friends with them.” Her anger has risen suddenly, a sharp, acrid rose blooming hot with rage and prickled with sharp thorns of contempt.
You blink at her, eyes wide. She’s still scowling down at her food, nostrils flared as she exhales angrily. “… What did you say?” you ask, with some trepidation. This might actually be the first time you’ve seen Madison angry.
“I told them to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine,” she replies, looking up at you. “And that they could go to hell if they thought I’d choose them over you.” She clenches her jaw shut, and you can both metaphorically and literally see her choke her anger back down. It coils back down into her stomach, but doesn’t disappear entirely. Finally, she unclenches her teeth and gives you an embarrassed smile. “I don’t actually know what that first insult means,” she admits sheepishly. “I just heard Sophia say it once, and it sounded cool.”
“It means to shove it up their butts,” you reply automatically. Your thoughts are whirling. How long ago was this? You noticed that Madison hasn’t been hanging around her friends weeks ago. When did they give her that ultimatum? Was it last week, or a week after you started working on her?
(When did she start feeling so strongly about you that she would willingly give up her entire circle of friends explicitly for you, without even telling you with the expectation of a reward?)
Madison wrinkles her nose. “That makes sense,” she says, her face screwed up into a slightly disgusted expression. “Ew.”
You chuckle a little, causing her to grin widely, the anger coiling around her dissipating back within her, retreating back to its usual place.
You’re touched, actually, that Madison would so willingly give up her former friends for you. She claims that they weren’t her friends, but there was a time when you would have given almost anything for that. That kind of loyalty definitely deserves a reward. You make a mental note, though, to encourage Madison to befriend Aisha and Charlotte. Or at least Charlotte.
Admittedly, the idea of Madison devoting herself just to you does have its own kind of appeal.
You move the conversation back to lighter topics as the two of you finish off your meals. Mostly, the conversation revolves around Madison’s new job. She’s very, very eager to tell you all about the delicious new desserts her father has her cooking while she’s working there, including some desserts you’ve never even heard of. What is a quesito?
Even as the two of you get up and make your way out, stopping at the front desk so you can pay and Madison can retrieve her bag, she continues regaling you with the stories of her adventures in the kitchen. You don’t understand half the things she’s saying, but you don’t have the heart to tell her so, not when she’s this animated about a topic. Instead, you just pull her over to the wall, tugging her close enough to you to allow her to snuggle against you, and call Dad to get him to come pick the two of you up while Madison continues chattering away in your other ear, lost to the world.
Then, while you wait, you busy yourself making understanding noises while Madison describes how she made some fudge brownies as you stroke your fingers through her hair.
Those brownies do sound delicious, though.
When you see Dad’s car turn the corner a good fifteen minutes later, you nudge Madison to get her to let go, then stand and offer her a hand up. She cuts herself off midway through her story about melting cinnamon and cooking chocolate together, looking around and spotting the car pulling up.
You pull her over to the car, opening the back doors to let both of you into the back seat. Dad looks in the rear-vision mirror curiously, looking over at Madison. “Hello,” he says mildly. “It’s nice to meet you, Madison.”
“H-Hello,” she replies uncertainly. “I-It’s good to meet you too.”
Dad nods, waiting for you to shut the door and buckle yourself in beside her before he pulls out again. He keeps his eyes on the road, but pitches his voice to reach back to the two of you. “Taylor asked me if you could sleep over today,” he calls back. “Is there any particular time you need to be home tomorrow?”
Madison looks hesitantly towards you and licks her lips. “U-Um, I have to go home by one o’clock tomorrow,” she replies. “Dad wants to show me how to make some more desserts.”
You grin at her, and some of the nervousness melts off her frame. “She’s working at her father’s restaurant,” you inform Dad. “She’s a really good cook!”
“Is she now?” Dad makes an approving sound at the back of his throat. “Well, I’ll have you know I am too. We’ll have to invite you over more often, Madison. Maybe we could trade some tips.”
“Maybe!” Madison gives you a grin filled with restrained enthusiasm. “I-I’m not so good at dinner things, but I could make some desserts!”
“I’m not very good at desserts,” Dad replies easily. “When we want some, I usually have to buy a frozen apple pie from the supermarket. It might be good to have some fresh-baked desserts for once, and you could try some of my world-famous beef casserole. What do you think, Taylor?”
You nod enthusiastically. Dad’s casserole isn’t actually all that good, but he puts a lot of effort into it. Nobody has ever had the heart to tell him that it’s not very tasty to anyone except him. “That sounds good!” you exclaim. And it does. You’d love to have Madison over more, especially if Dad is the one offering it. He can’t tease you if it’s his idea!
Dad and Madison continue tossing around ideas for what they could cook for various dinners during the drive home. Dad really wants to cook his casserole, but you suggested having some homemade pizza instead, and like a loyal girlfriend, Madison immediately backed you up.
Finally, the three of you pull up in the driveway. Dad edges towards the end of the driveway, then turns the keys in the ignition, cutting the power, and turns towards the two of you with a severe look. “No pizza,” he says emphatically.
“Yes pizza,” you and Madison chorus. You follow it up with a cheeky grin. “Sorry, Dad. Two to one. You’ve been outvoted.”
“I always knew democracy was bound to fail me,” he says sadly, pouting at the two of you. You’re not going to budge, though. You haven’t had pizza in ages.
Dad takes Madison’s bags for her, carrying them up to your room. You follow him with Madison in tow, although you’re not quite brave enough to take her hand right in front of him. You’d have to put up with his questions, and, eugh.
Once Madison’s bags are in, you make some shooing gestures with your hands, trying to get Dad out of your room as fast as possible. He gives you an amused smile and stands there obstinately for a few moments, watching as you grow more and more frustrated. Finally, he moves to your doorway. “My friend will be coming over tomorrow, so we’ll be installing your window then,” he informs you. “Sleep well, girls.”
After he’s left, you hurry over to your door, quickly pushing it shut and locking it behind him. Then, letting out a sigh of relief, you turn—just in time to see Madison beginning to pull her shirt over her head. You freeze for a moment as she pulls it off properly and drops it at her feet, then reaches back around for her bra clasp. “… What are you doing?” you ask.
The clasp is undone with a soft snicket, and she begins shrugging the straps off her shoulders. “I’m taking my bra off,” she says innocently. “You asked me to, remember? Whenever we’re alone together, I should take my bra and panties off.”
… You’d actually forgotten about that. “So I did,” you murmur. “Don’t worry about putting your shirt back on, though. Just put your pyjamas on.”
She smiles and begins to tug down her skirt. “Okay.” She follows swiftly with her panties, then picks them all up and begins folding them neatly, placing them in her bag—and, probably not coincidentally, giving you an excellent view of her ass. It’s almost tempting enough to make you walk over there and grab it, but you politely refrain, giving her time to pull her pyjamas out.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of pajamas you wanted me to wear,” she murmurs eventually. Turning around, she holds out three different bundles of pink clothing. “I, um, I only have two summer shirts, and my other one’s in the wash, so I have to wear this one. But I have both of these.” She casually tosses the shirt over her shoulder so she can present each of the bottoms in one hand. She gestures with the left one first—a simple pair of comfy shorts that would stretch down to her mid-thigh, if you had to guess—then with her right hand, revealing a pajama skirt cut almost obscenely short.
You stare at that skirt, your mouth suddenly dry. “W-Where did you buy that?” you manage to stutter out.
A pleased smile spreads across her face, and she casually drops the shorts back in her bag. “Mom bought it,” she says happily, bending down so she can begin pulling the skirt on. “But it was a lot longer when she bought it. I had to… modify it some.” Her pleased smile turns somewhat naughtier, and after she’s finished pulling it on, she twirls, just once. The movement is enough to make the skirt flare up, revealing her bare mound to you. “Do you like it?” As she talks, she begins pulling her shirt on, very deliberately not doing the shirt’s buttons up.
“Yes,” you reply instantly, making her smile grow even naughtier. “But you can never wear this anywhere that’s not in our bedrooms, Madison. Promise me now.” Nobody else can ever see her like this, just barely covered in deliciously thin cotton barriers that shift and threaten to reveal everything to you every time she moves.
She nods easily. “Of course not,” she says agreeably. “Nobody except you has permission to see me like this.”
Your mouth goes even drier, and you have to turn your head to muffle a cough. She can’t just say that. This is unfair. You’d planned on holding her for a while and talking to her, not just throwing her on your bed and ravishing her.
Then again, it has been around a month since the last time the two of you had sex, and Madison doesn’t have a Victoria to give her some relief in the meantime.
Wow, thinking about it that way, you’re kind of impressed that she waited until the two of you were home and in a locked bedroom before she started trying to seduce you. It’d be cruel to make her wait even longer.
“I’m going to go get a bottle of water,” you murmur. Maybe two bottles. “My clothes dresser is over there. Pick out some pajamas for me while I’m gone. Whatever you think will be most comfortable for you to lie on.”
Madison acknowledges your command with a nod. You unlock your door and check carefully that Dad isn’t there to see Madison’s current state of dress before you step out and close the door behind you, heading to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water from the fridge. Dad keeps them in there to keep them nice and cool in case there’s a sudden heat wave.
When you return, Madison is sitting innocently on your bed. You walk over to her, passing her one of the bottles of water. “… You didn’t get any clothes out,” you observe neutrally.
She nods. A faint flush spreads over her cheeks. “You said whatever pajamas would be most comfortable for me to sleep on,” she murmurs. “But I like it when you’re not wearing any.” Her cheeks flush a darker red as she makes her lewd comments.
You’re struck by a sudden set of conflicting desires. You want to reprimand her for not following your instructions, but there’s a warm feeling in your gut that tells you to just strip and cuddle together with your girlfriend. Finally, you settle for what you think is an appropriate compromise, by which you mean giving in and not reprimanding her. “Fine,” you reply eventually, giving her a mildly scolding look. “Come dress me, then.”
She doesn’t even hesitate as she climbs up off the bed and shuffles across the floor to get to you.
This time, it’s you who blushes a little as she pulls down your skirt. Even from up here, you can hear Madison’s stifled gasp as she reveals the green lingerie she’d bought for you so long ago.
“They look so pretty on you,” she murmurs. And, before she reaches up and begins pulling them down too, she leans forward and gives your panties an affectionate kiss. You have to bite your lips to restrain a moan at the gesture.
It’s slightly embarrassing to be undressed by your girlfriend, but the embarrassment disappears quickly beneath a building heat in your core. Madison has to kneel in front of you in order to effectively pull your clothes off, and you don’t make it easy for her. You don’t lift your feet until she makes an affectionate gesture—the first time, a kiss on your foot that you’re pretty sure was intended more to tickle you than arouse you. Either way, you reward her for the gesture by lifting your right foot up just enough for her to pull your skirt out from under it, quickly stepping down when she attempts to pull your panties out too. No—one item of clothing per kiss, Madison.
She’s smart. She’ll figure out the rules eventually. (If they were really important ones, you’d tell her anyway. You just enjoy watching her trying to figure out what you want without any verbal cues from you.)
