Jennie
The next day, work flies by. I don't even feel tired from my lack of sleep, and every dull moment is filled with thoughts of Lisa or her brief words from the texts we sneak back and forth.
She drives into Seoul that night, and we go out again, except this time I fix my hair and wear a skirt. We sit at a table, around actual people, and it would almost be better than the night before if both nights didn't offer such stiff competition.
There's no more awkwardness. It's suddenly just me and her - two normal people on a normal date without the weight of bad decisions dragging us down.
I want to invite her back to my place that night, but I don't dare. I won't be able to control myself if I do.
Incidentally, that night ends up being the longest of my life. I'm so wound up that I masturbated at least four times before I'm finally subdued enough to fall asleep.
Lisa stays in town, and the next morning she comes over for breakfast. I figure I'll have better control over my sexual needs during the day time, although after seeing her in a grey polo shirt that makes her eyes pop, I'm suddenly not so sure. I cook bacon, eggs, and pancakes. I even present her with a bowl of cut fruit. I'm not usually one to make such extravagant breakfasts, but I'm excited and nervous and almost positive that Lisa doesn't thrive on sprinkled doughnuts and coffee in the morning.
We don't leave after breakfast. She helps me clean, and then we watch a movie on the couch. Or to be more precise, the movie plays in the background while I cram my tongue down her throat and strip her naked from the waist up. She doesn't seem to mind. Especially when she nudges me backwards, causing me to lie down, and hovers over me in nothing but jeans with an already loosened fly.
My hands roam every inch of her - her arms, shoulders, neck, back. Her lips leave fiery trails across my skin, scorching every exposed inch, and I'm unable to do anything except moan and arch my back at every touch.
Every part of me desires Lisa. I yearn to have her over me, around me, and inside of me. I can't get close enough - I claw and grasp at the back of her jeans, yanking her flush against my body. Her erection presses into me, right there, causing us both to groan in unison. Resolve has flown out the window, not even sparing a backwards glance to make sure I'm all right. I suppose it just knew, judging by our throaty moans and all.
There is no doubt left in my mind. I will have sex today, with Lisa, or else die by self-imposed sexual deprivation. But as I raise my hips off the couch, eagerly sliding my shorts down, Lisa pauses and stops me.
"Are you sure we're ready for this, Jennie?"
I freeze, my shorts halfway down my thighs. Lisa's throbbing erection is still pressed against me, its hardness even more prominent with less fabric in the way. We're both breathing heavily, her chest lightly pressing against mine.
I'm not really sure how to answer. I don't want to think about whether or not we're ready, but instead I want to focus on how I feel.
And that's horny. Disturbingly horny, as a matter of fact. It's horniness accumulated from months and months of having a lonely hoo-hah combined with over two weeks of angry, unresolved sexual tension with the person currently pressing her really hard wanker against said hoo-hah.
No, I don't want to be having this conversation right now.
"What are you talking about?" I ask dumbly. I can't really focus on coherent conversation at the moment.
"I don't know, I just...I don't want to screw things up. And you said you wanted to take things slow, didn't you? I want you to know this isn't about sex for me, Jennie. I mean, I want you - God, how I want you - but I don't want you to think that it's all I want. Does that make any sense?"
It actually makes a lot of sense, considering our short past. But that's not to say I like it, or that I even want to think about it.
"It does make sense," I agree. "But I trust you now. Remember?"
Relief washes over her face and she kisses me. Hard.
But she's right. We probably are moving too fast. And not that I'm one who sits around fantasizing about this shit all day, but I never really imagined our first time being after a high-school-esque make out session on the couch.
When she finally pulls away, moving her lips to my neck, I coyly add, "And we don't have to have sex, you know. We can do...other things." To make sure she understands this proposition is temporary, I quickly add,
"For now."
I feel her smiling against my neck. "Calmed down a bit, huh?"
"Shut up."
"I should have lay back and let you have your way with me when I had the chance."
"Stop talking," I scold her. "Your mouth should be doing other things right now."
Her hand eases past my underwear and two fingers slip inside of me, curling upwards, and all talk ceases immediately. I moan embarrassingly loud and arch my back into her touch, eager for more, but remain grounded by twisting her hair around my fingers.
Her mouth proves to be one of many wonders. And this time, she lets me return the favour.
Later on, after propositioning a repeat performance, we decide that my bed will be more comfortable. She carries me to the room but stops after taking two steps inside.
My legs are locked around her waist, my lips on her neck and jaw, but I soon pull away to see what has suddenly caught her interest.
She's staring down at my Big Lebowski rug with a shit-eating grin on her face.
My face heats immediately. I had spread the rug on my bedroom floor, assuming that it matched the blue comforter of my bed better than the tan fabric of my couch. And it does. But it doesn't fit well, causing one end to curl unattractively against the wall.
I wonder if Lisa thinks I'm some sort of crazy person for actually using it. I wonder if she expected me to do what any normal girl would do and discreetly get rid of the ugly thing.
"I see you like the rug," she says, and I detect a hint of smugness to her voice, as if she's the only person to ever buy me a super-awesome Big Lebowski replica rug.
Okay, so maybe she is.
I try to play it off with humour. "You have no idea," I breathe into her ear. "Perhaps if you lay down on top of it I'll really have my way with you."
I'm joking, kind of, but Lisa looks as though she's seriously debating the idea. This makes me giggle. "What?" she asks, confused.
"Nothing," I say. "Put me down." I'm impatient, ready to have her lips on me again. She sets me on the bed and is over me in the same instant, her left hand never leaving my hip, her right already hidden beneath the fabric of my shirt.