April:Awkward morning after?
Chris:Worse. Her mom walked into Julia’s bedroom and found us spooning. Naked.
Marlee:She lives with her mother? At our age?
Chris:No but her mom has a key and doesn’t mind using it.
April:Well, that’s awkward. When’s the wedding? Do we get to be bridesmaids?
Chris:I know you think you’re joking but we decided to tell our parents we had sex because we’re dating.
April:Protecting her virtue?
Marlee:Why?
Chris:To get them all off of our asses for a while. Even though my mom isn’t ambushing me with lesbians like Julia’s is, she’s still bugging me all the time about when am I going to get serious about someone. If they think we’re in a relationship, we’ll have some peace from the nagging and matchmaking.
April:Or maybe you’re doing it because you both secretly wish it was true.
Chris:Anyway, now Julia and I are having dinner with her parents and mine tonight so they can grill us about our relationship and where it’s going.
Marlee:You two are living out some sapphic Hallmark movie, aren’t you? This is gonna be fun to watch.
Julia
“That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Well hello to you too,” I said, opening the door to find my one night stand and fake girlfriend scowling at me on my porch. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“It’s… pink.”
Apparently the unspoken truce we’d had while we were fucking each other was over.
I looked down at my pink shirt dress. Stopping an inch or two above my knees, it had a patent leather belt in a darker shade of pink which almost perfectly matched my pink ballerina flats. With my hair straightened and just enough makeup to bring out my features, I thought I looked good.
Meanwhile Chris looked the same as she usually did. She wore a tight white tank top tucked into black cargo pants, with a black shirt that she’d left unbuttoned and her usual black boots.
I used to think she was kind of plain, not quite unattractive but not cute either. Now I found her trim figure and androgenous style of dressing almost appealing. Maybe that was because my pussy was still sore from everything we’d done last night. And early this morning.
“Let’s hit the road,” I said. “My mom gets annoyed when I’m late.”
“I’ll drive,” Chris said as we walked outside the house.
Oh good, she was one of those people. I suppressed a sigh. “Okay, whatever you want.”
I followed her to one of those small sized pick-up trucks, black and pristine. There wasn’t a smudge on it.
“What do you need a pickup truck for?” I asked as we got settled inside the vehicle. “You live in the city, not on a farm.”
“What do you drive?” she asked. “A Subaru?”
It was a running joke in the Pacific NW that if you were a lesbian you had to drive a Subaru.
“I have a Honda Civic Hybrid,” I said. “It gets around fifty miles per gallon. I fill up my tank like once a month.”
She looked surprised, though I didn’t know if it was about my choice of cars or the fact that I knew what kind of gas mileage my car got.
“Remember, if we’re going to pull this off, we have to be nice to each other. At least in front of our parents.”
