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“Good point.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’ve just never done...sex...this way.”
My brain snags on the way she says “this,” as if she’s ascribed a different meaning to it than I do. Wondering if that difference is good or bad.
“Have you?” she asks and I think from her tone that she’s not just asking about my sexual history. She wants to know how I feel about all this, too.
“I’ve hooked up with friends before,” I say. “George and I. We started as friends.”
“Is George the only one?” she asks. Her hands move tentatively over my chest, through my chest hair. One finger follows the trail toward my belly button, and I hold my breath to hide that it tickles.
“He...yes.” It’s not just that it tickles. This might be the first time Lulu has touched me like this, casually but with intent, with care and without purpose. I haven’t been touched like this in so long and I lean into it, taking her hand and pressing it to my stomach, the heat of her skin caught between the heat of mine.
“And you’re still friends? Right?” she asks, her voice thin and cautious.
“Best friends.” I cup her shoulder, rub my thumb beneath the cotton bra strap. “Lulu, we’ll still be friends after this,” I promise her. “You’re still my friend.”
It feels more true the more I say it, like I have the power to speak it into existence. We’re an Odd Couple. I’m quiet and she hardly ever stops talking. She might be a genius and I’m a bit of a meathead, but she is my friend and I am hers and this silly little crush I have won’t change that. We are friends and that will be true long after I’ve gotten a hold of my feelings. I won’t let it ruin anything for Lulu. Not when she’s trying so hard to make these changes in her life. “I promise.”
We’re touching each other in ways that might break the loosely defined rules we’ve agreed on, but she doesn’t seem inclined to stop. So, I don’t either. Her eyes travel over my face, stopping on my mouth. “Do you want me to put my fingers in your mouth again?” she asks, casually.
But there’s nothing casual about the shiver that moves through me, my skin forming goose bumps at just the memory of her fingers, salty, wet, and warm, before.
Fuck, yes.
“Hold on.” I lean over the side of the bed, feeling for the other toy I saw in the bin. I want her fingers in my mouth and on my skin and pulling my chest hair. I want to feel. Everything.
“Here.” I draw a hot pink feather tickler along the curve of her body. “How does that feel?”
She shudders. “It tickles.”
“Do you want me to keep using it?”
“Yeah.” She huffs. “I had no idea what this was. I thought it was a feather duster and I was missing a maid’s costume.”
I fall back on her double bed to laugh silently. “Of course you did.”
Lulu rolls onto her side, trailing the tickler along my side and this time I can’t keep it inside. I laugh, my face pressed into the pillow. In retaliation, I turn the vibe back on, reaching around her to run it along the ridges of her spine.
And then it’s on. She draws the feathers across my back. I rub the vibe over her stomach. She laughs in my ear, loud, almost a cackle. Her ribs shake against my hands. She goes for my armpit but when I slide the vibrator over her nipple, she stills, her mouth forming a perfect O.
“Yeah?”
She nods.
I pull the cup of her bra down but she shakes her head. “Take it off this time.”
Lulu’s breasts are bigger than I expect when they’re unencumbered by things like clothing and underwire. If we were in the habit of touching each otherlike thatshe’d fill my hands. But pressing the vibrator around her areola is a fair substitute. She closes her eyes but doesn’t stop the slow stroke of her hand at the back of my neck, the feathers from my hip to my shoulder. It doesn’t tickle anymore, not in a way that makes me want to laugh; more like every nerve ending in my body migrates to wherever she touches me. At my neck and hip, and the press of her thighs around one of mine.
“OK, OK.” She breathes the words. Lulu’s fingers play with the dark patch of trimmed hair between her legs. “Touch me here.”
She pops the button of my jeans and I push them down. I pause to apply more lube to the toy and when I turn back to her, she’s got her hand all the way between her legs and her lip caught between her teeth.
“Hey,” I say. Gently, I pull her hand away, kissing the salt on her fingertips. “I’ve got you, OK?”
As I slip my hand between her legs, she holds my wrist, pressing and pushing where she wants me to go. She moves me back and forth, her hips moving, too. Hooks her leg around my hip, presses her bare chest to mine. We’re hot, her apartment isn’t air-conditioned and the box fan in the corner is silent. Sweat slides between us, and I rise up on my elbow to brush her hair off her face. My pulse beats with each press of her fingers into my skin. Her mouth is so close, it would be easy to lean in and find out how her kisses taste. I stare at her full lower lip, her tongue. The vibrator isn’t loud like one of those wands. Its hum is quiet, and it lets me hear each one of her gasped breaths, the swish of her legs against the sheets. She’s blush pink and splashed in gold.
I’m going to think about this for the rest of my life, the way she pulls her hand away from my wrist once she’s sure I can use the pressure and speed she needs, how she draws her fingers over my ribs, my hips. The grip she has on the back of my neck that gets tighter and tighter as her hips move faster. The sound of my name, like a question, like she’s begging. Lulu goes still against me as she comes. She holds her breath; her eyes flutter closed, her mouth open, teeth pressed gently to my pec. The urge to kiss her is overwhelming. It would be nothing to tip her chin back, to cover her mouth with mine. Nothing. So, I bury my face in her hair. Suffocate myself on the sweet scent of her as she shakes against me.
