Insatiable Appetites

by Fiona Zedde

  Bambi, the sex kitten. Or was it sex deer?

  Either way, taking the girl up on her clumsy offer was better than dwelling on the wreckage she’d left behind at home. “Okay,” Sage said.

  When the girl headed toward the street instead of the parking lot, she started to rethink her choices. Again. This chick didn’t have a car?

  Sage’s reluctance must have shown plain as day on her face because the girl pointed up ahead. “My place is walking distance from here. Not far at all.”

  And the way she looked at Sage, her wide eyes bouncing from her face to her body, made her suddenly recall where she’d seen her face before. This was the young as hell waitress from Wilde’s the night she and her friends went there for dinner. That night, the girl stared hard at both Rémi and Nuria, practically drooling every time she dropped by their table.

  Back then, Sage hadn’t paid the girl much attention other than to acknowledge that she was attractive enough, for a fetus. But with the sun burning down on her head and the rage rampaging through her at the loss of her life with Phil, her self-preservation and usually steady moral compass were on the fritz.

  So, she very much noticed that the girl was like a younger Zoe Saldana, complete with long ponytail, wide mouth, and pointy chin. Not Sage’s usual type of girl at all. But not one she’d turn down given the right set of motivations.

  “Oh, I’m Crystal, by the way.” She didn’t offer her hand.

  Sage gave her own name. “Do you remember me?” The heels of her boots thudded against the concrete.

  Crystal scratched the tip of her nose and glanced briefly away. “Yeah. You came to Wilde’s with your—friends that one time.” Sage was pretty sure she had been about to say “your hot friends.”

  “That’s right.” At least they were starting whatever this was on somewhat of an even footing. She shoved her hands in her pockets, moving the damp material away from her crotch as possible. Wet jeans weren’t the most comfortable thing to have pressed to your pussy, especially when you didn’t have on any damn underwear.

  A few minutes passed in semi-awkward silence. “So…” Crystal began, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Where are your friends?”

  Did she think they’d pop out of the bushes rearing to go for a hot foursome?

  “Probably at home,” she said. “Two of them are married,” Or as good as. “—and not fucking other people.” Best to just get that out of the way in case she wanted to use Sage to get into Rémi or Dez’s pants. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  “Oh, okay.”

  They got to her building, a slightly run-down Art Deco spot that had been skipped in that neighborhood’s renovation boom, and climbed the stairs to her small second-story apartment.

  Crystal hung her backpack on a hook behind the door and shoved her keys, hanging from a green lanyard advertising a local university, into the bag’s outer pocket.

  “This is me.”

  The apartment looked pretty much like Sage expected. Small with what looked like second-hand furniture neatly placed around the small living room—a plaid couch, a small TV on top of a scarred vintage coffee table, and two mismatched lamps on opposite sides of the couch. The walls were a neutral white but a dozen or so framed movie posters brightened things up. The look of the apartment along with the smell—tomato sauce mixed with nail polish remover and weed—gave it a distinct college student vibe.

  “Thanks for inviting me over,” Sage muttered. Why was she here again? “Can you point me to your shower?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure!” Crystal looked happy for something to do besides stare at Sage. “It’s through here.” She led the way down a short hallway and opened one of the two doors. “I have towels and wash rags on the shelf. Use anything that you want.”

  The bathroom was clean as the rest of the apartment. Built-in shelves held neatly folded towels and face cloths, slightly faded and mismatched, and a tropical patterned shower curtain surrounded the combination tub and shower. A pair of pink floral panties hung from the shower rod. Crystal snatched up the underwear the moment Sage’s eyes landed on them. She ducked her head.

  “I…uh…wash them when I shower.”

  Sage gave in to the faint trickle of amusement. “Are you from Jamaica? That’s some shit my country cousins used to do.”

  Crystal’s eyes darted to Sage. “I am, actually.”

  For real?

  “Damn. Me too.”

  “Yeah, I figured.”

  Right. Her accent. As much as she’d tried in the early days of being in America, she hadn’t been able to completely get rid of it. Crystal though, had no trace of an accent. As far as Sage could tell, she could’ve been from anywhere in America.

  They stared at each other again, awkward in the tiny feeling bathroom. Then Crystal scratched at her nose and slowly backed away and out the door. “Let me know if you needed anything.”

  Sage was looking for how to turn on the shower when Crystal appeared again behind her. “You can give me your clothes and I’ll throw them in the wash. It doesn’t cost me any extra.”

  “Sure.” Then because she didn’t feel like putting on a show of modesty, Sage quickly got out of her wet clothes, minus the underwear, and passed them to her. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Okay.” Crystal squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then darted close enough that Sage thought she was trying for a kiss. “Uh…you turn it on like this.” She got the shower going with a sharp tug at some mechanism hidden in the mouth of the bath spigot. Crystal yelped and jumped back in time to avoid getting her hair wet. Her cheeks darkened with a blush.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” Then she was gone again, this time closing the bathroom door behind her with a click.

  Sage stood in her underwear, staring at the rushing stream of water, for far too long. Thoughts rushing through her head, as quickly as the water left the spigot, too fast for her to catch. This was a kind of escape, a path she’d taken many times before.

  Was she going to keep going to its inevitable end?

  Enough of this this thinking crap.

  She peeled off her underwear and climbed into the shower. Twenty minutes later, she got out, surprised to see a pair of sweats and a T-shirt waiting for her on top of the closed toilet seat. She hadn’t even heard Crystal come back into the bathroom.

  “Thanks for the clothes,” she said to Crystal as she stepped out of the hallway.

  The apartment was small enough that she could see Crystal’s front door, her kitchen, and the door to what looked like a small balcony from where she stood. Only a low breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the living room, so Sage had a clear view of Crystal stirring something in a pot. The scent of something creamy and tomato-rich flooded the small apartment.

  “You’re welcome.” Changed into a loose gray dress and with her hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, she looked much more comfortable than before. “Do you want something to eat? I’m making grilled cheese with tomato soup.

  Sage hadn’t had that in years. Not since Claudia, “Mrs. Nichols” to her and her friends back then, used to make them as an after-school snack. Her stomach rumbled then, answering the question for her.

  “Sure,” she said anyway. “That would be nice.” All she’d had was the glass of orange juice at Nuria’s and the promise of the Bloody Mary that had spilled all over her morning. “Thank you.”

  Crystal looked away, her ponytail swinging, then went back to the stove. “It’ll be ready in about ten minutes. Just…” Over her shoulder, she gestured toward Sage and the rest of the apartment. “…make yourself comfortable. Or whatever.”

  Or whatever. That was quite an invitation. Despite the shitty last few hours she’d had, Sage found herself smiling.

  This wasn’t going how she thought it would at all. Maybe that was a good thing.

  Away from the hectic pace of the restaurant where Crystal worked, the girl was sweet, almost shy. Or maybe she was just acting her age.


  Sage finished drying her hair with the towel, tossed it over her shoulder and explored the living room, the books on the shelf, gaming console hooked up to the TV, the posters of movies on the wall that she’d never seen. Crystal was apparently into foreign flicks.

  “Do you speak any foreign languages or do you just read the subtitles?”

  “I speak a little Spanish, that’s it,” she said.

  The sound of something fattening, either butter or cheese, sizzling in a pan came from the kitchen. A buttery scent teased Sage’s nose. Moments later, the rich smell of heating bread made her stomach clench with remembered hunger. When was the last time she ate anything?

  “Those are mostly my mom’s posters though,” Crystal continued although Sage was half-ashamed to have tuned her out for those few seconds where her hunger had been more important than her manners. “She was really into the old stuff barely anybody’s ever heard of. I keep them because they remind me of her.”

  A delicate pain throbbed in Crystal’s voice despite the careless way she spoke.

  “Is she…?”

  “She died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s cool. You didn’t kill her.”

  Sage turned away from the black and white poster with the movie title written in Portuguese. “I don’t have to be her murderer to be sorry.”

  “Yeah…” Her voice tapered off into nothing.

  Sounds from the kitchen swallowed up what would’ve otherwise been an awkward silence. The bookshelf seemed a safer part of the apartment to explore so she made her way over there but, just in case there was some pain there waiting to be triggered, she didn’t comment on anything she saw.

  Minutes later, Crystal left the kitchen with a round tray in her hand. It was loaded down with bowls of soup, a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches, and cold water in Star Trek glasses. Spock and Uhura. “Do you want to eat over here or on the couch?”

  Sage tore her eyes away from the Star Trek glasses, wondering again how old this girl was. She turned her mind to the real question at hand. The breakfast bar would be more comfortable. But then they’d have to carry on an actual conversation and Sage didn’t think she had anything to talk to Crystal about.

  “The couch is cool. Maybe we can watch some TV or something.”

  Nibbling on the corner of her mouth, Crystal came into the living room and gently put the tray of food on the coffee table.

  “Have a seat,” she invited with am awkward little wave of her hand.

  She put the food in two places on the wide coffee table—a bowl of soup, a plate piled with four triangles dripping with three types of cheese, two tall glasses of water with lemon wedges perched on their sides. She put the spoons on separate folded napkins, adjusted them at least twice before sitting down. Then she picked up the remote and sat back in the couch. Her knee jumped with obvious nervousness.

  Sage said, trying to do the semi-decent thing and ignore how much the girl seemed to alternate between being nervous out of her skin and poised on the edge of seduction. Then and there, she decided not to take advantage of either state of mind. Crystal was young. She didn’t have any business inviting a stranger to her place.

  “What do you want to watch?” Crystal asked.

  “Pretty much anything,” Sage said. “I’m easy.”

  The truth was she didn’t watch much TV. Whether she was hanging by herself or with Phil, she’d much rather read or listen to music. The intimacy of silence was something she loved. And something she especially loved to share with her girlfriend. A lump of emotion rose up in her throat, threatening to choke her. Tears pricked her eyes and she coughed, covering her mouth with a fist and looking away.

  Fuck. What was she even doing here?

  But she knew the answer to that question. Avoiding her life. Turning her back on the things that should have been familiar and now reminded her too much of how much in her life now was unknown. Unfamiliar as Mars or walking on the moon.

  At her side, Crystal messed with her spoon again, knocking it against her water glass. “You probably don’t watch much TV then huh?”

  Sage thought about lying, then discarded the idea. This girl was a stranger. Lies would be meaningless between them.

  “No, not really. But when in Rome…” Sage shrugged.

  She sat down in front of the food, the warmth of Crystal’s thigh only inches from hers, and picked up her Spock water glass. “Thanks for the food, and for everything.”

  Their glasses clinked together.

  “You’re welcome.” Crystal sipped her water, then cleared her throat. She put the glass on a coaster, not looking at Sage. “I’m actually surprised you came home with me.”

  “I’m surprised you asked me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll murder you and steal your…” She looked around the small apartment for something worth taking. “…Star Trek cup collection or something?”

  A smile darted across Crystal’s face. “Not really. Your watch can probably pay my rent for a year.” She eyed the Cartier pointedly before picking up her spoon. “I figured I was safe.”

  The smile stayed on her face while she sipped from her spoon.

  “I could be the kind who kills for fun, not necessity,” Sage said at the same time she realized how creepy that sounded. “Forget I said that.”

  “Yes, please.” Crystal rolled her eyes, her smile showing more teeth.

  Sage picked up her sandwich and took big bite, sighed at the distinct bite of gorgonzola cheese, the unexpected scent and crunch of caraway seeds. Sharp cheddar and maybe parmesan was mixed in there too. The combined flavors were damn near a party for her taste buds. Though, truth be told, is was damn near impossible to mess up a grilled cheese sandwich.

  “This is good,” she said once she’d swallowed the bite and, irresistibly, licked a smear of what tasted like browned butter from her lips.

  “Thank you.” Another smile, this one full of self-satisfied mischief, curved Crystal’s mouth. Her eyes sparkled behind the lush thicket of lashes. “I got the cheese from work.”

  “And the sandwich recipe?”

  “Yeah, that too. As much as I love cheese, it never occurred to me to mix them like this. It’s good but I can’t afford to buy it so…” She shrugged and didn’t look the slightest bit ashamed.

  “I’ll make sure to order it when I come back to the restaurant.”

  “Or you could just come here and eat it anytime you want.”

  The words hovered between them, an invitation of a whole other sort. Even though they hadn’t touched, and Sage had no plans on ever touching the girl, the air in the apartment suddenly thickened and became ripe with intention. None of it hers. Sage put down her sandwich and rubbed the tips of her butter-slick fingers together.

  “Listen, Crystal…”

  A damp mouth crashed into hers and Sage’s arms were suddenly full of a squirming, young girl half her weight but with twice the determination to get closer.

  The soft weight tumbled into her and she grunted, releasing a startled breath immediately swallowed up by a hot mouth that smelled of tomato soup of melted cheese. She gripped Crystal’s arms but her slick hands slid over the bare skin and they tumbled back into the couch, the blanket draped over the plaid couch smelling like fabric softener and lemongrass incense.

  “Wait…”

  But wait for what?

  But her body was already responding to the signals that had compelled it for years—firm breasts pressing into her chest, a willing woman with desire armed directly at Sage, even if the mouth on hers wasn’t exactly expert.

  She tore her mouth away. “Crystal, this isn’t a good idea.”

  Who exactly was talking? Right, the adult.

  Crystal moved her mouth away only to press it into Sage’s throat, teeth nibbling, tongue licking that spot under her ear that made Sage weak. “Isn’t this what you came over here for?”

  The familiar heat curled into her belly, sliding low to plump her pussy lip
s and make her wet.

  “No, not really.” But the words came out on a tremor, especially when warm hands slipped under the loose shirt and covered her breasts. Crystal’s thumbs swept over her nipples with a knowing touch. Maybe Crystal wasn’t as inexperienced as she first thought. And maybe she wasn’t as immune to teenagers as she first thought.

  “How old are you anyway?” She gasped the question while her mind was still hers, the desire to be naked and to have the girl’s mouth on her nipples she touched so firmly and expertly quickly taking over.

  “I’m old enough.” Like she’d read Sage’s mind, Crystal moved her mouth lower. “I was serving you liquor the other night, remember?”

  Waitresses who served liquor had to be at least twenty-one, right?

  Then Crystal shoved the borrowed shirt all the way up, latched her mouth to Sage’s nipple and pushed any other coherent thought not related to cumming straight out of Sage’s mind.

  God, she felt good. Uncomplicated. The thin fingers tugged and rolled the nipple not in her mouth. Between her legs, Sage was rushing wet, and she was certain the crotch of the sweat pants was already desperately in need of the laundry. Groaning, she gripped Crystal’s shoulders just for something to hold onto. The girl hummed with pleasure as she sucked Sage’s breasts, one then other other, fingers driving her wild and she hadn’t even touched Sage’s pussy.

  That didn’t stop her from grinding up on the girl, searching for something to rub her clit and pierced hood against. God…she was so desperately horny. So desperate to forget the last day had happened.

  If she let this run its natural course, then maybe, just maybe she’d leave this stranger’s bed—or couch—and go back home to see everything returned to normal. Phil in the walk-in closet, trying on her latest dress, ready to drag Sage out to the latest play or bar or sex party, her melting brown eyes filled with love and the forever they hadn’t talked about but were drifting toward together.

  “You’re so hot!” Crystal groaned into Sage’s skin, her fingers plucking, a steady pinch and release that shocked a cry from Sage. Her mind flying back to the here and now, the reality of a too-young girl intent on making her come without touching her pussy.