by Avon Gale
“Hey,” Vix said, her voice low. She backed away to give Sawyer some room. “This is going to be fun, okay? I promise.”
“Fun,” said Sawyer. “I’m not usually this nervous before I have fun.”
“You don’t get stage fright?” Vix moved to put her bag on her bed and rummaged through it. “I used to, but I don’t anymore.”
“Nope. Performing’s easy. It’s not about me, it’s about the music. The violin. The fiddle, now, I guess.” Sawyer followed and put her own bag on the other bed. She sat down and pressed her hands to her face. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’m so awkward, Vix.”
“I know. And you’re hot. And yes, I really want to do this.” Vix paused, her fingers at the hem of her shirt. Then she shrugged and pulled it off, tossing it carelessly on the bed. She was wearing a bright-pink bra, which somehow was not at all what Sawyer expected. She’d seen Vix change before, obviously, they all had—communal living in a van meant she’d seen more dick than she’d ever like to see again, thanks—and that bra was new.
“Yes, fine, I thought you’d think it was cute, sue me.” Vix stepped out of her jeans, revealing a pair of plain black hipster panties. She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t have matching ones, sorry.”
“It’s hard to match that shade of pink,” Sawyer said, straight-faced.
Vix broke into a grin. “You’re ridiculous. I’m showering first, then you’re showering, then we’re having sex, and then we’re ordering something to eat that isn’t a burger wrapped in paper, got it?”
“Got it,” said Sawyer, staring at Vix’s breasts, cupped by the—very violently pink—fabric. Her mouth twitched. “Where did you get that?”
“It was on sale for ten dollars at Target.” Vix grabbed her toiletries bag and some clothes, then turned around.
Sawyer gave a low whistle at the sight of Vix’s ass in them. “Those panties are great, though. Good choices.”
“Also on sale at Target,” said Vix, as she and her cute panties vanished into the bathroom. Sawyer heard the water start and realized she was sitting on the bed, staring at the spot where Vix had been standing.
She pressed her hands to her face again and took a deep breath, then immediately wondered if she had anything cute to wear. She jumped up and hurriedly tore through her bag, shoving aside dresses and wondering if plain white underwear was hot or stupid. She pulled out a thin-strapped tank top that was also white, and then bit her lip as she examined the two items of clothing on the bed. Would that be hot, or would she look like she was in a cult?
Still, mostly everything else needed to be washed, so hopefully Vix would be distracted by the see-through-ness of the tank top or else, hey, be into girls in cults? Maybe not that. Sawyer snorted with laughter. She was nervous and excited, both anticipating and dreading the sound of the shower switching off.
At least, she was until it’d been twenty minutes and Vix was still in there. Sawyer had taken her dress off and was in her bra (a plain, boring tan color) and panties (leopard print, also on sale from Target)—and it was getting a little chilly. The air conditioner unit was set to sixty-three with the fan on high, so that was probably why. She adjusted it to a normal-person temperature and sat on the bed again, arms wrapped around herself, and waited.
At twenty-five minutes, she stomped over and banged on the door. “Seriously?”
“I told you I was dreaming about this shower,” Vix called back. “No time limit.”
The ones they used at the truck stops often had a time limit, so Sawyer understood that. Still. “This is not helping my confidence, Victoria.”
There was silence, and then, “Maybe I’m getting off in here thinking about you.”
Sawyer crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re totally not, though. You’re using up all the hot water and shaving your legs, come on.” That’s exactly what Sawyer would be doing.
“Girls, man,” Vix called back, and then the shower turned off. Sawyer went back and gathered up her things from the bed.
Vix finally opened the door, and she was wearing a pair of little pajama shorts and a plain black tank top—almost identical to Sawyer’s, but sadly not see-through. “Okay, Miss Impatient.” Vix’s hair was a mess even when it was wet. Sawyer wondered if combing through the tangles would count as foreplay.
“At this point, it’s more about the shower.” Sawyer raised her chin and marched like a general to the bathroom. It was filled with steam and smelled like shampoo and body products. There was some lotion open on the counter and a razor on the side of the tub. Sawyer smiled, but all she said was, “If you used all the hot water, you’re not getting laid.”
“Take a shower, Bell,” Vix said cheerfully, and Sawyer closed the door and set about doing that.
The banter—and her desperate longing for it to be her turn in the shower—had eased Sawyer’s nerves somewhat, but they all came back tenfold as she stood beneath the spray. Her hands on her own body made her shiver pleasantly, skin oversensitive to everything from the mesh of her bath poof to the hot water, the slick slide of body wash and the drag of the razor. Sawyer had been nervous plenty of times, despite her lack of stage fright—auditioning for Juilliard, for one—but this was an entirely different kind of nervous.
After her shower, she combed out her hair and applied a generous amount of lotion, brushed her teeth and tried not to think how she was doing all of this to have sex with a girl for the first time. Not any girl. Vix.
Well, she was also doing this because she was practically living in a van. But whatever.
Sawyer stood naked in front of the mirror, but it was too fogged with steam to see her reflection. She wondered how she looked as she pulled on the panties and the tank top, and gave her hair one last squeeze with the towel. Dripping water all over the place was not sexy. At least being a bit wet made the tank top see-through and cut down on the cult associations.
Sawyer put her hand on the knob, then took it off and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. She couldn’t do this. She was going to be awful at it, she was—
“We can eat and watch bad television,” Vix called, as if she somehow knew Sawyer was nervous and uncertain.
Sawyer wished she could respond with “Maybe I’m getting off in here thinking about you,” but the words weren’t easy anymore, and she knew that sort of banter would feel forced instead of funny. Sawyer stood up, ran her hands over her hair and down her sides. She could hear herself breathing. After a few seconds, she opened the door and walked out of the bathroom.
Vix was lounging on her bed, playing with her phone, which was connected to the charger on the wall. She nodded over at the other bed—Sawyer’s bed? Did she want it to be?—and Sawyer saw her own phone was also plugged in and charging. “I thought you might want me to do that.”
It was a sweet gesture, but it didn’t make her any less nervous. Sawyer just stood there, and Vix put her phone down as if she’d finally realized how nervous Sawyer really was.
“You look—”
“Like I’m in a cult?” Sawyer interrupted, then closed her eyes in mortification. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I do. You’ve never done this before.” Vix didn’t sound mean, but she was definitely amused. “And I wasn’t thinking cult member, but now that you said it . . .”
Sawyer opened her eyes and tried to stop shaking. “I really want to do this, Vix, but I’m . . . yeah. Nervous.”
“I know. You’re also standing up there like you’re on stage. This isn’t a performance, Sawyer.” Vix scooted over and patted the mattress. “I mean, if you want to play violin to get in the mood, go ahead.”
Sawyer’s hands were shaking too hard to do anything with her violin but drop it, but Sawyer didn’t say that. She moved onto the bottom edge of the bed and sat, cross-legged, hands folded primly in her lap. Cult member at prayer. Great.
“Well, that’s a start.” Vix mimicked her. Her purple hair had faded to a mix of light violet and natural blon
de. “And I was going to say you looked hot, not like you were in Heaven’s Gate.”
Sawyer trembled a smile and then buried her face in her hands for what had to be the thousandth time. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.”
“Sitting cross-legged and being awkward and cute? You’re doing great.”
Sawyer lifted her head from her hands. She let herself look at Vix, her tattooed skin very fair against the black of her tank top and the little shorts she was wearing. “You, um. You look . . . also really hot.”
“Maybe talking isn’t your best move,” Vix suggested. She reached out her hand. “You can always, always change your mind, okay? I promise this is going to be fun, but I’m your friend, Sawyer. I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. But if you want to do this, then get over here and let me at that hot body of yours.”
Both the reassurance and the compliment made Sawyer feel better. She put her hand in Vix’s and let out a little shriek when Vix pulled her close. “Hot body? You’re spending too much time around boys.”
“You don’t like hearing I think you’re hot?” Vix tugged her so they were side by side, then draped a leg over Sawyer’s. “Should I tell you how much I appreciate your mind?”
Sawyer couldn’t say anything, because they were tangled together, all smooth, freshly showered skin and oh. It was amazing, wonderful, and if she had any doubts she was into girls, well, there they went. “You— Actually, yeah, telling me I’m hot is great, thanks.”
“You’re also ridiculous,” Vix said, and kissed her before she could respond.
Kissing made Sawyer forget just about everything—her nerves included—and she responded on instinct, kissing Vix as Vix eased her onto her back. Vix’s hands drifted over her breasts, and Sawyer made a noise, shuddering a little beneath the caress.
Vix whispered in her ear, “I’m gonna play you like a violin, Bell.”
Sawyer snorted. Then she laughed. “Are you kidding with that?”
“No, but I told you. This is gonna be fun.” Vix swung a leg over her and then climbed right on top of Sawyer.
Sawyer pushed up on her elbows, unsure what to do. “As long as you stop with the cheesy come-ons.”
“Who said I didn’t mean that?” Vix leaned down to kiss her, all smooth skin and her messy hair now in Sawyer’s face too, which somehow made this perfect.
They kissed, and Sawyer enjoyed the way Vix felt on top of her, weight straddling her stomach. She could feel Vix’s cunt warm against her stomach. Vix pulled away from their kiss and tugged at the tank top. “Does your great leader mind if you take this off so I can play with your tits?”
“The great leader does not,” Sawyer intoned, half sitting and raising her arms as Vix tugged the tank over her head and tossed it aside. She fell back onto the mattress, teasing forgotten as Vix’s mouth moved down her neck and lower, kissing the valley between her breasts before sucking one of Sawyer’s nipples into her mouth.
Sawyer moaned, shivering at how good it felt—Vix’s hair tickling her skin while Vix’s mouth did wicked things to her nipple. Vix played with Sawyer’s other nipple with her fingers, tweaking lightly and rolling it between her fingers.
“Do you like that harder?” Vix asked, pinching a little. “Sometimes I get a little pinchy.”
“Um.” Sawyer had no idea how to respond to that. It had never felt like this before, with Patrick. He’d never made jokes about cults, either. In fact, she didn’t think Patrick had ever made a joke, in or out of bed. “Just . . . you know, whatever you want.”
“What do you want?” Vix looked up at her.
“Fewer questions?”
“You’re aware you made that sound like a question, right?”
Sawyer went to say something about that, but then Vix returned to sucking on her nipples, one after the other, shifting so she could press her thigh between Sawyer’s legs. Sawyer gave a little moan. “All of this is great.”
Vix huffed a laugh, kissing down her stomach. Sawyer could hear her own breathing as Vix shifted again, settling between her legs and running her hands up and down Sawyer’s inner thighs.
“So Mr. Patrick Juilliard wasn’t very good at this, was he?” Vix smiled up at Sawyer, drawing little patterns over Sawyer’s inner thighs, fingers skirting close to the edges of her panties.
This felt completely different than anything she’d felt before. The few times she’d gotten off with another person, Sawyer had been so far into her head she might as well have been doing it to herself. But she couldn’t answer, shivering and shaking her head in response.
“So hot,” Vix breathed, running her fingers lightly over Sawyer’s cunt through her panties. “You’re already wet. Damn, girl. You’re going to give me an ego.”
“I think someone did that already.” Sawyer gasped up at the ceiling. “Temple Keats, maybe.”
Vix laughed and rubbed Sawyer’s clit with her thumb through the damp material. “Well, it doesn’t sound like I’ll need much of an ego to do better than Patrick.”
“All you’d need was six minutes,” Sawyer pointed out. She should maybe feel bad about making fun of her ex in bed with another woman, but then again, Patrick had cheated on her. Fair game for mockery.
“That’s how long he lasted when he fucked you? Well, you are really hot, so I guess that’s not entirely his fault.” Vix kissed Sawyer’s inner thigh, then sucked lightly on the skin . . . and then not so lightly, biting hard enough to have Sawyer’s body spasm in surprise.
“That’s how long he’d go down on me for. I caught him watching the clock once,” she panted, pushing up on her elbows.
“Pathetic.” Vix grinned up at her. “I can do it for a lot longer than five minutes.”
Sawyer didn’t doubt that. “Can you—” She paused, uncertain.
“What?” Vix rubbed her clit again, a little harder. “Come on, I literally never want anyone to tell me what to do, so take advantage of it.”
“Take your shirt off,” Sawyer said, to the ceiling.
“Nope. But you can.” Vix sat up expectantly.
Sawyer pushed herself into a seated position as best she could, trembling fingers reaching for Vix’s tank top. She pulled it off with Vix’s help, eyes immediately drifting to Vix’s breasts. Vix was small and her breasts were proportional, but Sawyer thought they were as gorgeous as the rest of her.
She drifted her fingers over a swell, almost giggling as she touched Vix’s nipples. She couldn’t stop smiling.
“You’re being really cute right now,” Vix told her. “Also, I love how the second my shirt came off your eyes went right to my boobs.”
“Hmm?” Sawyer cupped Vix’s breasts in her palms and rubbed her thumbs over the nipples. “I’m sorry, are you talking?”
“Ha ha.”
Sawyer did raise her eyes, happy that Vix was smiling and her dark-brown eyes were bright. “Sorry, you were doing something, and then I got distracted by boobs.” She giggled. “I guess I really am a lesbian.”
“I get distracted by boobs sometimes.”
“Half the time?” Sawyer teased.
“This is not the time for me to explain how bisexuality works, or how gender isn’t binary for that matter. Later, after round one. But, look, there’s no set schedule.”
“I know. I want you to make me come,” Sawyer said, and maybe her face turned red when she said it, but hey, she was learning. Also she was having fun. Who knew sex could be like this?
“Sweet. I want to do that too.” Vix waggled her eyebrows and leaned in to give Sawyer a quick kiss, then went back to lie between her legs. She tugged at the waistband of Sawyer’s underwear, pulling them down and off her hips. “Aww. You have a cute cunt.” She looked up at Sawyer. “Do you have a problem with that word? Some people do.”
Sawyer had only ever heard it as a derogatory term—not sexy. But the same was true for pussy, wasn’t it? “I’m pretty good with you calling it whatever you want right now.”
Vix grinned agai
n. “I knew this was going to be fun. Okay. Remember, you can tell me if something isn’t working.” She slid her thumb up and down Sawyer’s slit, spreading the wetness there over her clit and the edges of her labia. “It really is cute.” She leaned forward, licking slowly up and down.
Sawyer realized she wasn’t breathing and forced herself to exhale. She couldn’t look away from Vix lying between her legs, all messy-haired and wearing nothing but those shorts, mouthing at her cunt. Sure, cunt worked great. It was fabulous. Sawyer’s head went back, and she moaned loudly. She threaded her fingers through Vix’s hair, hips pushing up slightly as Vix licked her.
Vix switched from a light touch to using the flat of her tongue, rubbing it up and down and making Sawyer feel the familiar tightening that meant she was building toward orgasm. “It might not take you five minutes,” she panted, “but it’s not because you’re doing a bad job.”
“I said I’d get you off, not how soon I’d do it,” Vix murmured, replacing her wonderful, wonderful mouth with her fingers. Which were also great. She pressed the pad of her thumb on Sawyer’s clit and gently slid two fingers inside. “I love this. I love the way cunts feel inside, when they—yeah, tighten like that.”
Sawyer hadn’t been aware she was tensing her muscles around Vix’s fingers, but she did it again as Vix slowly started fucking in and out of her, thumb keeping a steady rhythm on her clit.
“See? That’s good right there, yeah?” Vix didn’t ease up, fucking her faster with her fingers, the pressure of her thumb perfect. “I could get you off like this and it’s only been . . . hell, I have no idea.” She pulled her hand away, then grinned at the glare Sawyer gave her. “Lie there and enjoy it, and you’ll come when I’m ready to make you come.”
Sawyer put her head back on the pillow, and gave it all up. She had a habit of losing herself in her mind—both in her limited sexual experience and the times it was herself—and this was different. She went from grabbing the sheets to Vix’s hair, arching up and moaning, saying things like “Yeah,” and “Oh God,” and feeling the climb to orgasm start up and fall, start up and fall. Part of it was Vix, deliberately teasing her, and part of it was Sawyer.