“I’m awake.” I said “Turn on the light.”
She was cursing and holding a hand to her ear.
“Been awake long?” She asked casually.
“Since you and Wayne got here, yeah.” I said.
“Oh.” I wondered if she remembered what she’d said.
The light clicked on, and in the yellow dim, I saw Jacquie sitting on her bed a few feet away, looking concerned, her tits bare.
“What did you
asian vagina mean,” I asked “when you told him I’d report you to the Resident?”
“Oh!” she said embarrassedly “I just said that
asian vagina to keep him out. He just wanted to make out, and I wasn’t in the mood.”
“That’s a first,” I said grumpily “anyway, why’d you call me an old stick?”
Jacquie’s eyes widened, “Oh Flocksie,” she always called me Flocksie, and I hated it. “Don’t get tangled up. It’s okay to be. . .the way you are, I mean it’s. . .”
Now I was
asian vagina angry.
“What the hell do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Well, come on
asian vagina honey. It’s pretty well-known around here that my roomie doesn’t, y’know, get out much.”
“Get around much, you mean.” I accused.
Now it was her turn to flush.
“Jesus you’re an uptight bitch. Y’know,” she said, fishing in the drawer of the nightstand “you oughta smoke a joint occasionally—it’d relax those tense anal muscles of yours.”
I was at a loss for words. No-one had said anything like that to me since before I’d graduated
asian vagina high school. I blushed and felt
asian vagina a dull throb of anger. Tennisball contemptuously fished a joint from a baggie, lit
asian vagina it, and inhaled deeply. After a moment she gave me the joint to hold
asian vagina, and turned to open the window between our beds. I took the pot wordlessly, with tears pricking behind my eyelids. She knew damn well I’d never tried it, and had no plans to. As she turned around I angrily stuck the joint in my mouth and sucked it hugely and inexpertly.
Once the coughing fit had died away and my eyes stopped streaming, I got nervous. What if I went nuts? I’d heard pot could make you do that. Jacquie was grinning sloppily, her yellow hair drooping into her eyes. She came and sat on the bed and took another hit. She was still topless, and by the bedside light I could see how her big pink nipples crinkled in the cool air from the window. I reached up and brushed the hair away from her eyes; I felt something electric. Maybe it was the pot, or something else.
“Here,” I handed her the shiny object—her lost earring “you
asian vagina dropped this.” My fingertips were tingling when she touched my hand to take it. Her hand rested on mine for just
asian vagina a beat too long, it seemed.
“Thanks,” she said, looking at me with something like wonder in her eyes.
“You’ve got freckles all over, Tennie. . .I wish I had freckles.” I found myself saying in the long silence
asian vagina that followed. I touched the little dots which showered her shoulders. Then I sat up
asian vagina in bed to give her a kiss on the lips, soft and hesitant.
I’d never kissed a woman on the lips before. They were soft, and burned like fire against mine. Our tongues touched.
“Mmm.” I pulled away and looked at her.
“Why’d you stop? It’s okay.” she said.
“What . . . I mean, what do we, what are we. . .?”
“What do you want to do?”
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