Think I Want to Twist the Plot This Time

Part 3

The sound isn't something she's expecting to enjoy. Not just his voice with hers, but the way they're connecting, how rhythmic it's getting. Everything overwhelms her senses with absolute intensity, but Barbie grounds it all in his eyes as they keep watching her to make sure she likes everything he's doing.

Actually, if anything, that's what's going to send her over the edge.

So Barbie hones into that, on succumbing to the way her body tenses up again. She squeezes Oppenheimer's hand, digs her nails into his back without thinking. She meets his eyes and adores how he's losing himself in her just as much as she's focusing on him. It's harder to keep up that eye contact, with his head occasionally dropping down to her neck, and hers moving back against the pillows to let out yet another moan. She knows she's saying his name, but her voice still sounds like it's coming from somewhere else, somewhere outside of herself.

When he releases, his mouth is near her ear, and Barbie quickly commits to memory that sound of him losing control, when he's been so calculated this whole time. She gasps at the white-hot feeling inside her and that's what brings her back to climax, too, closing her eyes as she lets it all go.

He's shaking just a bit, and so is she, feeling like her soul is going to need some time to travel back into her body after being launched into the stratosphere. They stay like that a moment, panting together as they come down from the high. But his hand hasn't left hers, and Barbie still has her legs wrapped around his back.

Finally he relaxes, rolling over by her side. Barbie still stares forward, listening to her breathing, finding little patterns in the ceiling that start to ground her back in reality. Oppenheimer breathes nearly in tandem next to her, their shoulders now touching.

Once Barbie feels like she's at least a bit more in control of her actions, she slowly sits up. Her body adjusts to the slight soreness in her back, in her core, and she stretches her arms up, sighing contently. She leans over to kiss Oppenheimer's cheek. "I need to use the bathroom," she announces rather curtly, and swings her legs over the bedside. Gosh, she might need a minute, and she blesses the dark because he can't see her stumble her first few steps as she makes her way across the room.

Barbie turns the lights on once she's locked in the bathroom, but doesn't register much as her mind starts to focus on Dr. Cohen's medical advice: make sure to pee after penetrative sex to prevent UTIs. So she does, leaning her elbows on her knees as her mind reels with what just happened.

She just had sex for the first time with someone from the past. What an odd? Novel? Weird? Absolutely crazy?

What a concept.

And she thinks—knows—it's going to happen again, because once wasn't enough, not when he has those amazing eyes and those absolutely astounding lips. It's probably the most bonkers thing she's ever done in her life so far, right up there with choosing to become human. And yet, she feels like this was meant to be—after all, if life's an adventure, then this should be part of the journey, right? Unconventional as it is?

But when has a Barbie ever been conventional?

She flushes and washes her hands in the sink. The bathroom so retro, she thinks now that she can get a better look at it, and it kind of reminds her of the bathroom in Gloria's mom's house, which Gloria says was built back in the 50s. Mint green tile lines the walls, and the sink, toilet, and bathtub are all white porcelain. The floor beneath her feet looks and feels like linoleum, navy with a white border pattern. Above the sink are a few little ledges: one for what Barbie can only assume is Oppenheimer's toothbrush, one for a cup, and one for soap. The mirror is modest and rectangular, holding a medicine cabinet behind.

Barbie takes the cup and fills it with some water, then drinks it down, parched. Then she steps back so she can see as much of herself as she can in that small mirror.

Her hair fell in perfect waves before; now it's tangled and disheveled in the back from being ravished while lying down, and it's lost its curl. Her pink lipstick is faded on her lips, but smeared around her mouth, and her mascara is dotted under her eyes, starting to give her a bit of that raccoon effect. Purple marks absolutely litter her neck and torso from all those kisses, even all the way down to her hips.

She's never felt so beautiful in her entire existence.

Barbie holds her face in her hands, grinning and giddy like she just won a beauty pageant. She decides to wash off her already fading makeup, the cool water absolutely refreshing on her face as she dabs at her eyes and swipes at her mouth. After patting her face dry with the hand towel, she sighs contently. And now that she's fresh-faced, she can face the rest of the night.

He's waiting for her, and she's ready for more of him.

Barbie opens the door and turns off the light, practically floating back into the room.