CH. 8: RACHEL
Rachel paces back and forth from the kitchen into the living room and back again. “When is he supposed to be here?” she asks, biting her lip.
Heather draws the curtains open, peering out. “It shouldn’t be too much longer.” Rachel reaches for Heather’s hand, gripping it tightly. She gives it a little squeeze before dropping it again and turning back to the window. “He’s here,” she reports.
Rachel runs her hands down the front of her dress, smoothing the fabric over her hips. Heather had picked out a yellow sundress for her that she said accentuates her breasts favorably.
Her hair is in a loose ponytail, keeping her wild curls out of her face.
“You look great,” Heather says in a whisper, holding her thumb up in front of her. She pulls the door open before Andrew has a chance to knock.
Rachel balls her fists when she notices the way Heather’s eyes light up at the sight of him. She’s never looked at me that way. She glares at her, refusing to look at Andrew..
“Well hello there, stranger,” Heather says, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Andrew pats her back weakly.
“You must be Rachel,” he says, a grin forming on his lips.
Rachel swallows hard, her stomach feeling sick.
Heather steps back, yanking on her tight pink tank top in an obvious, yet fruitless effort to hide her love handles. “Yeah, that’s her.” She looks in her direction. “Rachel, this is Andrew… Andrew, Rachel,” she says quickly, her face paling.
“Hi…” Rachel chokes out, slouching forward and extending a clammy hand.
Andrew takes it, pulling her close to him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Rachel’s eyes dart to Heather, curious about what’s been said.
“Let’s get started,” Heather says, clapping her hands together, her voice higher pitched than usual.
Rachel catches her eye for just a second before she turns away from her and leads them into her bedroom.
Heather sits down on the bed, looking at Andrew who sits down next to her. Rachel remains standing, focusing instead on a picture hanging next to the bed; a unicorn shrouded in pink and white clouds, wings sprawled open as it prepares for flight.
Andrew turns to Heather and kisses her on the mouth. She pushes him back, staring intently at him as if trying to silently communicate. She then looks at Rachel, a thin-lipped smile breaking across her face. “Come over here.” She pats the space between herself and Andrew.
Rachel shifts her weight from one leg to the other, slowly approaching the bed. She swallows hard, closing her eyes for a moment while she steadies her breathing.
“Come on now,” Andrew coaxes. “Don’t be shy.”
Her eyes dart to Heather. How can she just sit there? Is she really so heartless and selfish that she can’t see how hard this is?
He reaches out, gripping her arm. “Stop right there, let me get a look at you,” he murmurs.
Her face flushes hot and her throat feels like it’s closing. She swallows audibly.
Andrew pulls her closer to him, running his hands over her breasts and down her waist, stopping at her hips. “Oh, my,” he says in a low growl. “You are quite the prize.”
Heather shoots her a look, then quickly looks away. She’s focusing on the coffee cup on her night stand, appearing agitated.
Rachel rubs the fabric of her dress between her forefinger and thumb, the soft cotton offers a small distraction as he runs his hands over the protrusion of her ass.
He tugs her down next to him on the bed. “Let’s get better acquainted.” He stares hard into Rachel’s eyes. She breaks the eye contact and stares down at the red and white comforter instead.
“Do you mind?” Andrew says, glaring at Heather.
There’s a lull between his question and her response. “Oh,” she says abruptly, standing.
She looks around dumbly before finding a corner and sitting.
Andrew pivots his body, climbing forward and pushing her down simultaneously. While she’s pinned under his weight, he slides the straps of her dress down over her shoulders. There’s a hungry glower in his eyes, and she quickly moves her hands to cover her nipples before he catches a glimpse of them.
“Now, now,” he says, hardly hiding his annoyance. He puts his hands over hers and pries them off.
She lets out a whimper. “Please don’t.”
His eyes narrow. He jerks back, looking in Heather’s direction. “You told me I was going to get my dick wet today,” he says, sounding like a petulant child.
Her eyes widen in alarm. She stands up, walking quickly to the door. “Rache, can I speak to you for a moment?”
Rachel quickly draws her straps back over her shoulders, and with her head ducked and shoulders slumped forward, she trails her into the hallway.
“What the hell is your problem?” Heather hisses. “Are you really going to embarrass me like that?”
“I’m scared, I don’t want to do it.”
“You told me you would. You can’t just change your mind at the last minute.”
“I don’t like him, he gives me the creeps,” she says, rubbing one foot over the other.
Heather sighs. “Okay…” She bites her bottom lip, her eyes darting nervously. She looks up, resting both hands on Rachel’s shoulders. “What if I help you?”
“Help me?” Rachel asks. “How?”
“I’ll lay down with you. You won’t have to look at him, you can just look at me instead. You can pretend his penis is a dildo, and instead of him, it’s me.”
Rachel exhales slowly, her breath shaking. She’s never used a dildo before. The entire prospect of being penetrated terrifies her. “Alright,” she says, resigned.
“Alright?” Heather stares at her with hopeful eyes. She lets out a breath and her posture loosens.
Rachel nods, searching Heather’s face for approval.
“Thank you, Rachel.” She drapes an arm over her shoulder, and together they walk back into the bedroom.
Andrew is laying on the bed, eyeing them. “All sorted then?” he asks impatiently.
Rachel feels Heather’s eyes on her. Not wanting to upset her, she forces herself to smile.
“She’s just nervous, this is her first time, after all,” Heather says, sounding nervous.
Andrew sits up, making room on the bed.
Heather peels her own shirt off, releasing her naked breasts. Andrew flinches slightly, looking at her with a question in his eyes.
Rachel exhales before pulling down the straps of her dress. Her nipples harden from exposure.
Andrew glances from chest to chest, licking his lips eagerly.
Heather sits up against the headboard, holding her arms out to Rachel. Emboldened, she climbs onto the bed and rests her head against Heather’s chest.
“What’s this all about?” Andrew asks.
“She wants me here with her,” Heather says. “For emotional support.”
“That’s too bad. I kinda like being the big bad wolf.” He scans Rachel’s tits and then looks at her square in the eye. “Are you my little piggy?” he asks menacingly.
Has everyone lost their mind? Rachel wants to turn around and ask Heather if she thinks this is normal, because there’s no way it is.
Heather’s grip on her arms tightens as Andrew sits back and peels his blue and white striped polo over his head. His body reminds her of the gross guys in the Abercrombie&Fitch ads. Rachel quickly looks away at the first sign of his shaft. She turns, hoping to kiss Heather, but Heather appears transfixed by his exposed cock.
“Look at it,” Andrew orders.
Slowly, she turns her head just enough to see it out of the corner of her eye. It looks angry, like it’s ready to settle a score. She looks away, it’s worse than she imagined.
Andrew snatches her hand and presses it firmly against his cock, and she jerks it away.
Heather reaches past her, and Rachel’s body sways as though she’s on a wave, bobbing back and forth with each of Heather’s strokes. She watches as Heather works her wrist in circular motions, rubbing him in her place. She steels herself and glances up at Andrew. He’s staring at her with furrowed brows and wide, angry eyes. It’s the most unsettling expression she’s ever seen on a man, and it’s aimed right at her.
“Don’t be mad at her, baby,” Heather soothes. “Remember, she’s never done any of this before.”
His features soften, melting into pleasure. The head of his cock glistens as precum leaks from the tip. He hikes Rachel’s dress up to her waist.
Rachel squirms at the sight of her hairless twat, still not used to it. Heather had convinced her to shave it, claiming no man wanted a mouthful of hair.
Andrew dives at it open-mouthed, licking the entire area with the flat of his tongue and staring up at her all the while.
Unsettled by his intensity, Rachel tilts her head upward, pressing her lips to Heather’s. The kiss is heavy and deep. Forgetting herself, Rachel lets out a moan.
Andrew stops what he’s doing for a moment. She feels his warm breath on her clitoris, but no tongue. “What’s this all about?” he asks.
Heather pulls her lips away. “I’m just helping her relax.”
He eyes her intently, but says nothing. He returns to Rachel’s exposed muff and takes her clitoris into his mouth, sucking it between his lips like a micro penis. He licks the edges of her inner lips, bringing his tongue to the opening of her vagina and darting it inward. He presses it firmly as if to fuck her with it. She hates the slick wetness of his saliva as he drenches her in it.
As if sensing her discomfort, Heather bends down slightly, speaking softly into her ear. “He’s getting you wet so his big cock will slide in easier.”
Andrew groans in approval. He looks up with wicked eyes and a devilish grin, his mouth glistening with wet. He moves closer to her face.
Rachel holds back the urge to grimace as he plants his lips onto hers.
Andrew’s cock is suspended in mid-air, straight as an arrow, pointing at her accusingly. The head clumsily bangs into the corner of her thigh, then into her clit.
Andrew sits back on his haunches, taking her all in before staring down at her spread pussy lips. He holds the base of his cock, placing his free hand on her thigh.
Rachel feels the pressure of entry and grits her teeth.
“Relax,” he says firmly. He takes his hand off his cock and places a hand on her other thigh.
“No,” she whispers absently, looking away.
He presses forward, inching himself further inside of her. “Look at me while I take you,” he demands.
Heather grips Rachel’s face and turns her to him. “Do as your told,” she says.
Rachel stares at his veined cock as it disappears further inside of her. Sharp pains shoot from her vagina into her chest, pulsing through her body.
He pauses at the halfway mark, letting out a moan. “Your pussy has me in a vice grip,” he says. “I’m having a hard time getting it in.” He pulls himself back, leaving just the tip inside and then pushes forward again.
Rachel tenses. She clutches his muscular arm, clenching her jaw as pain racks her body.
“Relax,” Andrew says again. “You’re so stiff.” He wiggles his hips side to side as he hovers over her. “Spread your legs further apart,” he instructs.
She grimaces, but does as she’s told. Andrew holds her hips and thrusts from head to halfway point. He continues mini thrusting until her cunt properly self lubricates. He’s accepted a little more with each push. A groan escapes his lips once he bottoms out. He thrusts faster. Rachel thrashes beneath him, whimpering and whining.
Andrew stops, suspended in animation. A growl erupts out of him and then he slumps forward.
“You did great,” Heather whispers into her ear. She runs a hand through Rachel’s hair and rubs her arms.
He pulls out of her. The sheets beneath her ass are soaked in semen and vaginal fluid.
Standing up, Andrew pulls his boxers on. “Well that was fun, but I gotta go.” He snatches his jeans off the floor.
“Is that it?” Heather asks from behind her.
“Is what, it?” He pulls his shirt over his head.
“You’re not gonna stay?”
“I’ll be in touch,” he assures, zipping his fly.
Heather nudges Rachel off of her and stands up to follow him out. “It was nice seeing you!”
He stands at the open door. “Likewise,” he mumbles, turning to leave. He closes the door in her face.
Heather looks down at the floor, and then storms back into the bedroom. “Well, you certainly enjoyed yourself,” she sneers.
“Are you mad?” Rachel asks, crinkling her face.
“Why would I be mad?” she snaps.
Rachel shakes her head quickly. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not mad!” she says, tearing into her shirt.
Rachel fixes her dress, flattening it against her body. The way Heather is acting didn’t make sense. It was Heather who wanted this, not her. She had told her she didn’t want to do it, she’d tried to get out of it, but Heather wouldn’t let her. Now she would have to live with the memory of that thing sliding in and out of her.
“I wish you wouldn’t smoke in here,” Rachel says, approaching Heather.
A billow of smoke flows from Heather’s puckered lips. “It’s my apartment, too,” she says. “You’re not the only one who pays the rent here.”
Rachel rolls her eyes. “You’re late all the time and you pay a fraction of what I pay.”
Heather slams her fist on the table and snubs the cigarette out into the ashtray. She grabs her phone and storms into her bedroom.“There’s cum all over my fuckin’ sheets!” she shouts.
Rachel stands in the doorway watching on as Heather rips the bedding off in a wild fury. “What is your problem!” Rachel demands.“You literally begged me to fuck that guy, and now you’re pissed off that I did.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she mutters, staring down at her phone.
“Is that him?” Rachel asks, folding her arms.
“Mind your business,” she retorts, shoving the phone into her cleavage.