by Sally Bryan
I opened my eyes to find her already gazing at me, her cheeks and skin at the bridge of her nose flushed the sort of deep red one wouldn’t think possible for a blonde and then she winked.
“I’m sure you don’t mind me getting some too, cheers for the help.” She stifled my laughter by pressing her lips against mine, her hips began to pulse, her thrusts so hard I thought she’d push through me.
And then I felt it brewing from the pit of my stomach like a ball of fire that kept growing. She sensed it too and pushed her mouth hard against my neck, my hips thrust up and she pressed down harder, faster and then her thigh was squeezing against me as we both exploded as one, gasping for air, our sweat running hot and cold both, stars and sparkles flashing in our vision, her arm locking tightly around my head as she pulled me in panting and we both lay shaking in each others’ arms.
After a minute I was still out of breath. “I had no idea my hip could do that.”
She sighed, “you’re probably wondering how I first discovered I could bring myself off like that.”
I slapped her on the thigh. “Probably abusing the refrigerator.”
She slapped me back and gaped, “oh, so this is the all-new Vanilla, is it? Got a touch of zest now have you? You cheeky sod.”
“And after you made me, um, go for the first time.”
“Go, huh?”
I felt suddenly embarrassed and averted my eyes. “I mean, no other person has ever been able to push me over the line like you just did.” I was not the type who could usually discuss this sort of thing. “And don’t make fun of my terminology, I’m a prude and you know it.”
“Well, not anymore.” Her shoulders quivered from what I took to be laughter. “Not after that.” She turned back into me and propped her head up with a hand. “Are you fucking serious? Whoa, talk about a delayed reaction but … surely Ga … I mean, surely you’ve gushed before?”
I shook my head and frowned, “at least now I know there’s nothing wrong with me.” All thanks to her.
“Oh, trust me, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” she said emphatically and was quick to say it. “Crikey o’Reilly,” she shook her head in wonderment, “now I almost feel bad for teasing you so much these last few days.”
I pushed myself up, threw one leg over her belly and straddled her, pinning her down by the wrists. “I fucking knew it. And you’ve been getting off on it too! The massage, your bloody outfits, the massage…” I said again.
“Hmmm, I like this,” she bit her bottom lip, pushed her hips gently off the bed and I went up with them, “don’t pretend like you didn’t love it.”
I shook my head, unable to stop myself from grinning hugely, the girl was incorrigible. “I’ll have you know it was extremely frustrating at the time.”
She was still lifting me off the bed by thrusting up with her hips and I marvelled at their power even as her eyes feasted on my breasts that I brought temptingly over her mouth. “Hmmm … so, you were gagging for it … I’m glad to have offered you some assistance, feel better?” Her voice was low and husky and before I had chance to respond, she overpowered me in one swift motion and within the blink of an eye, we’d exchanged positions.
“Oh, how did you…” but now there was a Goddess straddling me, which sent a fresh wave of euphoria shooting through my veins and prompting me to purr with lust.
She took her cue and manoeuvred atop of me, began kissing her way down my body, furnishing extra attention upon my breasts, my nipple that’d hardened to such a point inside her mouth, her tongue swirling around and that strange popping sound that comes when the mouth is released.
She ran her kisses down my abdomen and her feet dropped off the edge of the bed to land on the floor, her hands circled my thighs, coming to rest upon their insides and pushing them further apart to expose my throbbing cleft to her eyes.
Her humming and my settling back, full of anticipation yet uncertain what to expect, how it would feel to have a woman’s tongue inside of me, her mouth enveloping my jewel and then that final line was crossed and I no longer had to wait or wonder as something wet and flexible slipped along my outer walls, my hips making gentle circles, her mouth enclosing my bud, sucking, pinching between her teeth, making swirly patterns with her tongue, switching to my passage, delving within, returning to my pearl, slipping two fingers inside, rubbing whilst sucking and all the while I heaved, and perspired and made strange mewing sounds.
Perhaps it was wrong to make comparisons but this felt smoother, without the irritation of stubble, and she worked with far more enthusiasm, like my juices were giving her energy instead of draining it. She possessed a greater stamina, her tongue seemed not to tire and she instinctively knew what pressures would bring me to the brink without overdoing it. Though the reality was that because I’d only experienced being eaten three times in five years, making an accurate comparison was difficult.
And not only had she already made me gush once but she was about to make me gush twice and I lifted my head from the pillow, and caught her eyes from across my supine, quivering body, her winking, my inability at suppressing the inappropriate laughter even as I threw out my arms to grab a fistful of sheets, her head bobbing up and down, the occasional smacking sound of escaped air, her elbow pumping as her fingers searched ever deeper before sliding out, over and over, a flash of light, a deep explosion, my crying out, her mouth clamped hard around me, her hand clutching my thigh, her tongue lapping at whatever juices were spilling out from me and my holding out a hand for her to join me on the bed.
I could only glare at her with blurry unfocused eyes, rub them, blink it away as I gasped for air. She brought her forehead to mine and we lay in silence until finally, we pulled the sheet over us and fell asleep in each others’ arms.
* * *
She snored into the back of my neck.
It wasn’t every breath when the noise would splutter from her nose, more like every third or fourth but that didn’t make it any more tolerable.
For the thirtieth time, my eyes followed the swirly brown patterns painted on the wall, a kind of circular maze with Barcelona’s landmarks you had to find.
I was lying on the edge of the small bed, the covers kicked off my legs due to the heat, one of her hands was nestled behind my head, the other draped over my ribcage so that every now and then, whenever she twitched, a finger would graze my breast.
Outside the roar of exhausts penetrated the windows, they’d never ceased, throughout the whole night they’d revved but now they had a different tone because there were more of them, rush hour was about to begin and the light was already seeping in through the small crack between the curtains.
One side of my mouth was stinging and I could taste the blood from my gums that I’d spent the last hour, two, three, or maybe longer chewing and biting. There was also the faint taste of wine still on my palate and I’d slept with my contact lenses in.
Fun, experiences, memories, to be able to say I’d lived - Those were the things I’d wanted from this trip. But fucking a girl was, without question, taking things far and beyond what was acceptable.
Gabe.
I loved him and he didn’t deserve this.
She wheezed and snored into my neck, her finger twitched against my breast, so I took her limp hand and removed it from my person, flung it so that it came to rest on her leg before toppling off and landing back on my knee.
She stirred and I gently lowered my legs to the floor, grabbed a towel, some clothes and my toiletries before tiptoeing to the bathroom. The hostel was silent save for the almost deafening whir of the air conditioning.
I glowered into the mirror, hating what I saw, “you’re supposed to be the rational one,” and last night I’d been inebriated and emotional after that woman had dredged up all my family crap. “That was not you, you’re a junior doctor, don’t throw it all away, you are not your stupid sister, remember why you’re doing this.” Whatever the fuck had happened, had been happening, yesterday,
the last few days, could not continue, the consequences would endure far beyond this mere summer. Work, career, Gabe, my entire life was supposed to start proper and I stared into my cold, emotionless eyes, “don’t fucking throw it all away, Freya, don’t.”
And then I saw it, the braid obscured within a pile of red and so I grabbed it, tried to undo the knot, became impatient, rustled through my bag for the scissors, snipped off the end, threw the bead and hair down the toilet, flushed it away, returned to the mirror and speedily unravelled the braid.
I spent a full five minutes cleaning my teeth before heading for the shower, searching each cubicle for shower gel, retrieving three half-filled bottles, using the lot, washing my hair, ripping the mosquito band from my wrist, the same with the one on my ankle, watching them slither down the plug and thirty minutes later emerging to consummately dry my skin.
I dressed in a plain white skirt and blouse, applied new lenses, no makeup and slipped my feet into my flip flops before grabbing my things and exiting, creeping quietly down the corridor, as forlorn as it was because now doors were slamming all over the place to add to the shouting coming from the floor above. I slid my keycard through the mechanism, the red light flashed green, it clicked, I took a breath and pushed open the door.
“Morning.” She was in the process of applying her gown and beamed, forwent closing and tying the cords and bounded straight over to me, exposed breasts leading the way.
I twisted away at the last moment, clutched my belongings into my stomach, stalked over to my suitcase, dumping the lot inside and began rustling for my bag and phone. I was hungry and wanted to eat.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” She followed me over, her voice possessing the smallest hint of alarm, of being choked up.
I ignored it, mumbled something about breakfast, found my bag and coiled the strap around my hand.
“Excuse me, I didn’t catch that?” She was closer now, her voice louder.
I stood but looked away, to the light beam that shone through the curtain crack and the thousands of dust particles it revealed, which was frightening to see what I’d been breathing in. “I’m going for breakfast, I’ll probably see you about.”
“Ok, stop!” And then her hand was around my arm and I wrenched it away, skirted around her to get to the door but she’d anticipated it and was backing up in that direction, her hands clutching at the hems of her gown as she pulled the sides across each other and tied the cords. “Freya? What the fuck has happened? Speak to me! Your hair…” she gasped, the choke again rising in her voice.
I continued to stare into the floor, her toenails were painted red, which I’d never before noticed, “excuse me, may I pass please.”
She was flush in the way of the door, her hand rubbing at her arm. “No fucking way! Not until you tell me what’s wrong. Look at me!” She pleaded and then sidestepped, blocking me, when I tried to dash past. “Freya?”
I exhaled and spoke after a few seconds pause. “You let me do it, you took advantage, you put me into an emotional state asking personal questions you knew I was uncomfortable with.” My voice was calm and completely lacking in emotion and I’d raised my glance but only to stare at the door over her shoulder. “You spent the last week travelling with Gabe and look what you did. What did that sweet man ever do to hurt you? And for what? Just because you have an ego that insists you can have whoever you want.” I barged past and cringed when my arm made contact with hers. “Now, excuse me please.”
“Freya? I…” her voice cracked, was high pitched and lacked belief, “I…”
But I was out the door and calmly closed it behind me.
* * *
It was only a few minutes after sitting with a big heap of breakfast when a white and blue police car pulled up by the hostel entrance and two weary-looking, bedraggled ex-felons exited and dragged themselves inside.
“Gabe?” I called out across the dining room, the few heads that were up turning towards my excited voice. I stood and ran to meet him halfway, throwing my arms around him and sinking into his embrace.
“I should start assaulting more children.” He squeezed me hard, his stubble scratching my face, and carried me part the way towards the coffee stand.
“Maybe just the thieving ones.” I was floating backwards and saw Dan trudging in through the door, his hair all out and free-flowing, eyes automatically scanning the room for…
Gabe put me down and shook out his arms but was tactful enough not to call me heavy. “Not much sleep,” he said instead, as though that explained his lack of physical strength.
“Of course,” I beamed, “you made it most of the way so drink up,” I grabbed the largest mug available and filled it to the top with coffee, black, no sugar, just the way he loved it.
“Cheers.” He grabbed the mug and sniffed, took a sip, gazed at me like he always did and pushed up his glasses.
“What did you do to those?” My face scrunched up because his frames were all bent and wonky. “Oh, no, Gabe, did they hurt you?” My hands found their way to his forearm, interrupting its task as lever in bringing the coffee to his mouth and spilling some over the side.
“Careful.” His jaw clenched briefly before softening. “They didn’t hurt me much because…”
“…Because Gay Boy proved he’s even more adept at running than I’d previously thought.” Dan’s Yorkshire accent boomed from close, where he was stacking a plate full of pastries, toast, ham and everything else.
Gabe shook his head, “don’t listen to him.” Closer inspection of his face revealed the faintest sign of a periorbital hematoma, like he’d been punched but not very hard, possibly by a child, in the eye, which probably explained his glasses.
“I think you got off extremely lucky, here…” I grabbed his hand and tugged him over to our table, “sit, I’ll get you some breakfast.”
I did and a minute later returned, pulling my chair closer to Gabe.
Dan sat back and regarded me with hands in his lap. “Do we usually eat just the three of us? Where’s the blonde?”
I grabbed a croissant from my plate and dumped it on Gabe’s. “Sorry, I forgot to get you one of these … Dan, how was prison?” I gave him a quick squint and decided he wasn’t too bruised. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”
“What?” He looked from me to Gabe and back again. “Can you not see my face?” His mouth slackened. “My lip, my eye, my beautiful hair?”
I looked briefly back and shuddered, grateful he’d neglected his earlier enquiry but right then the woman herself traipsed in. Dan caught my eye glaring over his shoulder and twisted around, throwing out his arms and shouting her name.
She’d been heading towards the coffee but stopped, caught my blank stare and glanced from us to anywhere else, probably searching for our Dutch and Canadian friends but they weren’t down yet, so she slowly made her way over to our table, aiming for Dan and scuffing her feet several times on the way. She was dressed in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt but as for any other details, her state, I was too engrossed in my food to ascertain.
I shuffled closer to Gabe, turned into him and concentrated on making an odd ham sandwich between two pieces of cold toast, occupying my hands by thickly spreading mayonnaise over the meat. I didn’t even like mayonnaise.
“Easily the best sight in Barcelona, right here.” Dan declared loud enough for the people three tables down to hear.
“You’ve been in prison so I hope you’re right.” She muttered and I was vaguely aware of her standing, arms dangling at their sides as I took a large bite of sandwich. She made a quiet coughing sound, “um, Freya, may we have a word please?”
I exhaled angrily through my mouthful, making a gesture to the food at my fore, “can’t you see I’m busy?”
But she didn’t move and her solemn face was liable to crack at any moment and who knew what would happen then? If there was one thing that was hard to predict, it was a recently spurned lesbian. Why risk Arwen, in some overly emotional state, screaming out
accusations in the heat of the moment? No, there was no choice because she’d asked to have her little word even as Gabe’s hand was nestling in my lap, which was a low blow and it incensed me. She had me and she knew it.
So I swallowed my food, casually pulling out my seat, “excuse me one moment, Gabe,” and moved my hand lovingly over his shoulders in a gesture for Arwen’s benefit and thankfully both guys were far too concerned with their breakfasts to pay much heed to us.
I led the way out the dining room, down the corridor and into the ladies as Arwen’s light feet pattered close behind. The cubicles were all empty, we were alone and I stood in the room’s centre, turned to stare bodily at her and folded my arms across my chest.
She stood a cautious distance away, the smallest hint of wetness glowing in her eyes and I couldn’t say why but she appeared physically smaller than at any other time I’d known her. After a moment of silence, she held out her palms with a hopeless questioning expression.
“Well?” I demanded, “I’m not a mind reader, what do you want?”
“What do I want?” She asked faintly, “Frey, can’t we discuss what happened?”
“What happened?” I asked, glaring hard, cocking a brow.
“Last night.”
“Last night?” I shook my head, “nothing happened last night. Did you not just see me out there? That was my boyfriend you saw me with … you know, penis!”
Her lips parted and the whites of her eyes were prominent. “Freya?”