Heather is sitting on the toilet for the umpteenth time. A burning sensation strikes her urethra as a couple droplets of urine escape. “Fuck,” she mutters.
“Everything alright?” Rachel asks, as she exits the bathroom. “No, not really. Something’s wrong with my pisser.”
“Yeah, I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Well, are you going to go to the doctor?”
“No, I’m sure it will clear up on its own.”
“Okay, well if you have a bladder infection you’re going to want to go sooner rather than later,” she says over her shoulder.
Heather’s eyes narrow. Ignoring her, she shuts her bedroom door behind her, doubting that she has a UTI. Rachel isn’t as smart as she thinks.
She jumps at the sound of light knocking on her door. What part of door the door being closed doesn’t she understand? She quickly wipes her eyes with the heels of her palms and opens the door a crack.
“Heather?” Rachel asks slowly. “Can we talk?”
“If you’re looking for the dildo, I threw it out,” she answers, still bewildered that Andrew had been so much longer and thicker than her former prized possession. Just looking at it afterward had felt like cheating.
Heather involuntarily sniffles as she compares herself to the discarded dildo; used up and thrown away.
“We have to talk,” Rachel says abruptly, pushing the door open.
“I’m not dressed!” Heather yells, eyes wide.
Rachel squints, her lips parted. “You look dressed to me,” she says flatly, scanning her up and down. “Are you crying?” She steps forward.
“Don’t worry about it,” Heather says, waving her hand in front of her. “I’ll be fine.” She sits on the bed and wipes her eyes with the pads of her fingers.
Rachel twiddles her thumbs, looking down at them. “Does it bother you that I’m in love with you?” she murmurs.
She clears her throat, sitting up straighter. “No, it’s okay,” she says. “I realize we’ve known each other for a very long time and these things happen sometimes.”
Rachel sighs. “Most people don’t kiss their friends the way you kissed me, though. You made me think there was something there.”
Heather doesn’t reply.
“You’ve barely spoken a word to me since last Thursday when you went to that party, I mean, what is up with that?”
“I’ve been really busy, you know that. I have work, then straight after I have class, and today I had clinicals… You know how many asses they made me wipe today? I swear, they literally save everything shit-related specifically for me. Why can’t I feed someone or play backgammon… Something, anything other than wiping shit from asses, walls and carpets. I think I smell shit 24/7 now.”
Rachel pauses, a line forming along her lips. “You don’t kiss someone like that if you don’t have feelings for them,” she says.
Heather looks up at her, reflecting on the way Andrew had kissed her. Hot and heavy, full of burning passion and desire. “You’re wrong,” Heather says. “I just got carried away, that’s all.”
Rachel nods. “Well, I’m sorry your week has been full of shit. I hope it gets better for you.”
Heather sighs. “Rachel, I met someone.”
She sits down on the other end of the bed. “So, are you dating someone now, is that it?”
“It’s complicated,” she answers, exhaling. She throws herself back onto her bed. “Do you really want to know?”
“Ehm, not real—”
“He studies psychology at UW, he’s a senior there.” She looks at Rachel, hoping to catch a reaction. She frowns slightly, continuing. “He came onto me at the party... I tried to tell him no, but he wouldn’t accept it. I’ve never had a guy beg for me, Rachel, it was… Amazing.” She regards Rachel carefully, expecting a response this time. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen,” she continues. He brought me for a ride in his Mustang… A Mustang,” she says, leaning up to look at her. “He brought me out to the woods. We kissed and his hands were all over me, it was crazy.” She pauses, reflecting again on that night. “I’ve been thinking about him nonstop, and I just wish he’d call me or something.”
“So you had sex with him,” Rachel says with a measured tone.
“Yes!” she exclaims, covering her mouth, her eyes wide. “It was so amazing, We had sex like four times, maybe five.”
“Did you tell him you were a virgin?” she asks, her brows knitting together. She stares at Heather intently, and Heather can hear her shaky breaths”
“Yes, he knows. I told him after, and he said I was the tightest he’s ever been with.” She sniffs. “He didn’t believe me at first because I wasn’t wearing underwear. I guess you could say I’m a bit of a slut.” She smiles proudly.
Rachel’s lips curl, revealing the upper portion of her teeth. “That is so messed up,” she says, her tone dripping with disgust. “And what, all because he has a fucking piece of shit Ford Mustang? Those are everywhere, what’s so special—”
“Well, it was a really loud one!” she protests. “Why are you so mad? it’s different for guys, anyway.” she says, eyeing her.
“Oh my God, Heather, no it isn’t, who taught you to think that way?!” she exclaims.
“Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad, I just don’t understand you. Has he even tried to contact you since then?”
She scoffs. “You wouldn’t understand,” she mutters, folding her arms across her chest.
“I wouldn’t understand? You’re gullible if you think this is normal, and just plain stupid to accept it!”
Heather sits silently as tears well behind her eyes. She swallows hard as her throat constricts.
Rachel stands in front of her, taking both of her hands into hers. She kneels down, looking up at her. “Honey, I care so much about you, I don’t want to see you get hurt. Please don’t let men use you like this, you’re so much better than that.” Her eyes glisten.
Heather leans forward, embracing Rachel, tears now tracing down her cheeks. The warmth of Rachel’s body soothes her, she’s been starving for closeness. For intimacy.
She’s acutely aware of Rachel’s hot breath against her neck. What would it be like to be with a woman? Is it wrong to wonder such a thing? Would it be wrong to find out right now? She exhales, hugging Rachel tighter. It’s what she wants, isn’t it?
She rubs her back. “You know, it’s possible for a woman to use a man for sex, too, right?”
Rachel pulls back and looks deeply into Heather’s eyes. “It’s not the same.” she says in a patronizing whisper, running a hand over Heather’s head, down to her neck.
“I’m burning up,” Heather says with a devilish grin, tugging at her purple V-neck.
Rachel stares hard into her eyes, searching. She runs a hand lightly over the hem.
Heather inhales sharply, her clitoris tingling as blood rushes to engorge it. “The dildo is still in the trashcan,” she says suggestively, pulling her shirt off over her head and tossing it onto the floor. She unhinges her bra, exposing her hard nipples.
Rachel stares at them, looking ready to lunge, but she stops short. She closes her eyes and exhales slowly through her lips before opening them again. “What are you doing?” she asks. “Because this is confusing me.”
Without saying anything, she takes Rachel’s hands and presses them onto her breasts and moans.
Rachel leans forward, her hot mouth finding Heather’s. It makes her think of Andrew, this same sensation. She slides her tongue into her mouth and moans again, pulling hard at Rachel’s stretchy black and red checkered pants. She pulls them far enough down to expose her milky white ass, the cheeks separated by a black thong. As the kiss deepens, Rachel seems to have practically died; her body limp and willing.
Rachel breaks away, her lips moist with saliva. “Don’t do this if you aren’t serious,” she begs. Her eyes pleading, lip quivering. “Don’t hurt me twice.”
Heather shoves her backward and tears the plaid pants off of her, sliding a hand up her black long-sleeved shirt with fervor. She clutches a soft roll, releases it, and gropes clumsily for her breasts, fondling them roughly. Is this how it felt for Andrew, she wonders.
Rachel stares at her, appearing scared and helpless, her eyes still pleading for answers.
Heather wriggles out of her own leggings, giving herself a quick rub to quell the demands of her screaming loins.
She traces the edges of Rachel’s thong, rubbing her thumbs at the junction between thigh and pussy. She holds the black fabric of the thong to the side and licks the inner edge of her labia before pressing her lips hard onto Rachel’s protruding clit. Her lips and chin bristle against the black mass of pubic hairs, which curl and tangle with the aggression of 80’s aesthetic.
A moan erupts from Rachel, guttural and animalistic.
Heather presses her lips harder onto the clit, sucking it into her mouth and massaging it with her hot tongue. Rachel’s thighs flex and shake around her. She taps Heather’s shoulder rapidly. “I can’t take it, I can’t take it!” she lets out.
Rachel pulls her shirt off and Heather unhinges the front clasp of her bra, and her long, flat, pale white breasts splay outward, falling into her armpits. Like a moth to a flame Heather’s eager lips wrap around a nipple.
Rachel sits up, shoving Heather off of her. Heather detects doubt in her expression and spreads her own legs, showcasing her freshly shaven anatomy. She slips a finger inside of herself and then sucks it hard, releasing it with a pop and grins.
“Go dig the dildo out of the trash and wash it off with soap and water,” she instructs. She lays back, opening her legs wide while she waits.
Rachel lifts herself to her hands and knees and crawls closer. Heather looks on with heavy-lidded eyes swollen with lust. Her body is similar in way of girth, but proportionally much different. In contrast to Heather, she stores most of her weight in her lower body.
Rachel hovers over Heather, her thick black curls falling forward, draping her in gothic delirium.
Heather runs both her hands down the soft flesh of her flanks, finding and squeezing her big, juicy bottom.
Rachel stares at Heather’s snatch, appearing to be fixated on it. Bald and glistening. Her lips spread apart on their own, beckoning. She presses her lips onto the warm, wet mound, taking her clitoris into her mouth and gently suckling as if it were a mini cock.
Heather lets out a loud moan.
Rachel smiles wide, coming back up for her mouth, but Heather stops her. “Make me cum,” she begs, pushing her head back down.
Heather peers down at the curly mess of black hair obscuring her features. She brushes it back, intent on seeing what she’s doing to her body.
She reaches up, running a hand along her belly sensually. “You taste so good,” she murmurs between tongue strokes.
Heather closes her eyes, imagining Andrew between her legs instead, the ache to be penetrated becoming unbearable. “Use the dildo!” she cries out.
Rachel returns with the dildo and it slides in easily, given its sleek and slender design. Heather is sure it goes in easier now after having had Andrew’s much thicker member pulsating inside just a few days ago.
Rachel presses her clitoris with her thumb as she thrusts the dildo in and out. Heather’s pussy clenches the silicone and she squirms, her legs thrashing. Sprawled on soaked sheets and covered in sweat, she wonders what Andrew is doing. Could he be fucking Amanda?
Her chest heaves and her heart races as her body recovers from a powerful orgasm. Rachel isn’t the perfect substitute, but she’ll do, she thinks. She’ll do for now.