Story synopsis: Jenna, twenty-four, alone and unable to find a job, finds herself homeless. Still struggling with the fact that she has to go to her sister hat in hand, she finds herself a savoir, who happens to be the nicest girl she ever met. It doesn't take her much time to figure out that nice has nothing to do with it.
Hope you like it, happy reading.
EggWhites.
Chapter II
My relief dimed when the footsteps stopped too soon, which made me realize she hadn't reached the kitchen, but was standing somewhere behind my chair. My skin went numb with fear, before I felt something touch my back. "Come on," I whined, my fear making my tone weak shaky and pathetic. "What are you doing?" I turned.
"Relax!" she chuckled at my nervousness. "Just inch forward a bit. Need to get something from under you."
"Oh." My relief didn't allow me to suspect her intentions, or to ask the very logical question of what in hell's name would she want to get from under me. So I did what she said and shifted my butt forward slightly.
Her hands moved down, and for a couple of seconds, nothing. Then a sharp pain erupted between my butt cheeks, forcing me to leap to my feet as I yelped.
"What are you--AHhhh."
The crotch of my panties felt like a fucking saw between my cheeks as Kris kept pulling them up by the waistband. I stood at the tips of my toes to lessen the pain, but she only clutched my panties and pulled harder up in response.
"Kris--"
My toes left the ground and I shrieked as she gave a determined giggle and literally lifted me up by my panties.
As my hands held my crotch as if it would help the pain, I barley I managed to scream at her between my whines of pain. "Put me down--Kris Putt me down now!"
"Who's recliner is this?" She gave a tired chuckle as she kept me up.
"YORUS--FUCKING YOURS Alright."
"You gonna sit on it again--"
"NO."
"Good." She let go, letting me fall forward and land on my hands and knees.
I stayed down there, my eyes teary from pain. My ass and crotch burned hot, so the first thing I did was shoving my hand inside my pants and digging out my panties from between my cheeks and poor petal.
Kris was behind me busy catching her breath all the while chuckling at my high-pitched whines. She was chuckling as if we were two little girls who just had the most entertaining playtime. Then she controlled her laughter enough to say. "Now go get me my beer."
Like a fucking dog running to fetch a ball, I scampered to my feet in the kitchen' direction and she kicked my butt with her socked foot as she giggled. "That's right run blondie."
I sniffled as I moved hysterically in the kitchen, flinging the fridge's door open and snatching a can of beer out and then running back, the only thing motivating me being the want to run back to our room before I burst into tears in front of her, which was the last thing I wanted, to show her that she managed to make me cry like a baby.
I had barely rushed out of the kitchen when she said, "In a glass dummy. Add ice too." so I ran back the way I came and did what she said. I was still half-running half-limping cause of the fire in my crotch when I reached her couch, and I tripped.
The glass stayed miraculously in my hand, but its content spilled all over, soaking into the carpet. "Fuck's sake--" She scoffed at me. "You know how much that carpet costs."
"I'm sorry I'm sorry."
"Well clean it up you moron." She pushed my head with her foot to get me moving, and I did. I bolted to the kitchen and returned with some washing liquid and a cloth.
I started rubbing in silence and hoped she'd leave me alone; no such luck though.
She tutted above me. "Clumsy idiot...spilling beer all over my carpet. You should've told me what a brainless pain in the ass you'll end up being. I would've thought twice about inviting you here."
Her furious words didn't match her half-firm half-playful tone. And while I rubbed, the mere seconds I glanced up I saw her trying to hide a smile. I knew she was joking around but I still felt like crap, and plus, as stupid as it may sound, I still felt a bit guilty about messing up her carpet. I was sniffling by that point.
"What are you--" She bent down to get a better look at my face. "What are you crying? Crybaby." The enjoyment in her words vanished, replaced by concern. "Tough girl you are huh." I looked up at her to see her wrinkled face and pursed lips, as if she realized she had went a bit too far, which for some reason made me feel worse. "...Don't cry."
That did it. Not giving a shit about the dirty carpet anymore, I left the cloth and stormed to my room fighting tears, waling pathetically back at her as I slammed the door behind me. "Asshole."
I threw myself on bed and buried my face in the mattress. If there had been an ounce of respect left for me in this house, it had disappeared now. She got to me. One wedgie and a spilled drink on the floor and she made me cry like a baby.
Worst thing was that I couldn't make up my mind about her. She looked genuinely concerned about upsetting me at the end. She made me feel bad about acting like a baby, even though she was the one acting like a cunt. Here's an idea, you don't want to upset me, Don't fucking bully me.
I had barely managed to dry my soggy face when she opened the door and walked in. I was sitting with my back against the headboard. She stood there in silence, like she was just evaluating the situation, seeing how mad I still was, before she felt safe to walk in.
She shuffled on her feet a bit, figuring out what to say, before she said, "Howdy there--"
"Fuck you."
"Yeah that's fair." Her face wrinkled as she looked away. "Look I don't know what happened there. But it seems you're a bit too..."
My face fell from indifference to shock. Was she really gonna put this on me?
"Sensitive than I thought." She nodded.
"..."
My mouth gaped as I was about to argue with her, but I halted, cause eventually, she was right. When it comes down to it, she was rougher around the edges than I was, and I couldn't handle it. I was nice. She wasn't.
It looked like I wasn't the only one who sucked at apologies. She kept standing there for the better half of a minute, just looking around the room, before she leaned against her closet and said, "So how about you put some clothes on so we could go out shopping or something."
With my eyes narrowed and my arms crossed, I struggled to keep the smile off my face. "You're buying me off?"
"......Kinda."
"..." I thought about it for a bit, before I said, "And I get to sit on the chair!"
"Yeah," She shrugged, "You can sit wherever." She said it as if it didn't matter to her; it probably never did. "Get dressed." She walked out the room.
All in all, this wasn't such a bad day. Coming back home from the mall felt like I was a kid on Christmas. The last year or so had been the hardest financially, and cause I could barely afford a place to live in and something to eat at the end of the day, I gave up a ton of the things I used to enjoy...which mostly consisted of food.
I didn't want to look greedy, but she didn't seem to mind, and she was buying me off after all. So I loaded up on chips, chocolate bars, candy, coke and pretty much anything else I felt like it could go with my next Netflix binge.
That was all what I asked for, but Kris, weirdly, suggested we buy some clothes. I felt like it was to much to ask for her, since I had some, but she suggested it, and I wasn't a saint to refuse. By the end of it, I had a whole new wardrobe, but the only problem was...I hadn't picked a single piece of it. Frankly, she appeared more excited about the shopping spree than I was. I didn't mind it that much, as her taste was great, and it felt rude for me to say anything, considering she was paying and all.
But there were things that we bought that I would never even wear, including a pair of pink five-inch heels. I protested that one a bit more, and kept protesting until she basically kneeled in front of me in the store and told me let her put it on my foot. I couldn't protest after that, cause one, her act surprised me, and two, for a change, I liked the small pleasure of having her put a shoe on me. It flattered my recently stained dignity a bit.
As she picked more and more clothes for me, I tried to say it as a joke one time and chuckled, "Are we buying for you or for me?" She froze for a bit when I said that, then shrugged and said, "I mean... I'm the one who'll have to look at you wearing them right?" And with that she handed me a one-piece black lingerie to head toward the changing rooms with, staying true to her habit of slapping me playfully on the butt as I walked away.
That night I was lying down in bed with my head occupied by a single thought that I should've probably realized way earlier. Kris had a crush on me.
I remembered all her strange teasing looks she'd been giving me since the day I had met her. Her over-the-top interest in my life. But I doubted her bullying had anything to do with it...maybe it did, but it could still be just her personality, or she could just be a strange person who just happened to be nice enough to allow me to live rent free, or not. Cause frankly, she didn't care that much about chores. She only seemed to mention it to keep me busy from job-hunting, or to pick on me. I don't know. But something told me she just wanted me to live with her and didn't care about much else.
That mere possibility of her having feelings for me got me thinking about what I'd been feeling; that fucked up urge I had whenever she bullied me. Did she feel the same about that? Did she like doing it to me? I didn't let myself think about it for long, cause the answers didn't matter. I wasn't a lesbian. And even if I was, if there was some little part of me that actually liked to be treated like crap, then I wanted to kill it. Cause what normal girl would feel any kind of pleasure from being manhandled in such a degrading way.
With all of that in mind, I became sure that the best thing to do was to keep as far of a distance as I could from Kris.
Because of that, the following weeks proceeded kind of uneventfully. If she hanged out in the living room, I'd hang out in the bedroom, and vice versa. Still confidant that she was a good person--at some level--I tried not to make it that obvious that I didn't want to spend time with her. I knew she hanged out in the living room when she came back from the gym or wherever she would be spending her day, so as soon as I would hear the keys clanking, I would run to the bedroom. If she felt like working or painting on her tab in bed, I would just go out and watch something on TV, saying that I didn't want to distract her, or just head out and hang out with Ray at the bar.
But she wasn't stupid. She knew I was keeping my distant, and she didn't try to hide her annoyance. The rare times we talked to each other, when she'd suggest we watch a movie together or something and I would give her some lame excuse, she'd just... nod at me indifferently and say, "cool." And her face would be so emotionless that it was obvious she was far from cool.
She gave me a harder time with chores, and she tried to boss me around--or bossed me around, considering I always did what she said. We would be in different rooms and she'd call for me, "Hey Jenna fix me up a sandwich or something. I'm starving here." And I would leave whatever I would be doing and go fix her a sandwich. It wasn't like I liked being bossed around, but if this was the worst revenge in response to me cutting her off, she could order me around as much as she wanted.
And there were those... uncalled for gestures. Like the kick up the ass whenever we crossed paths--she only did it harder now--after which I would look back at her and she'd just give me a blank look like she was saying, "what? Problem?" Or when she'd come back from the gym and strip to her underwear, and throw every sweat-soaked piece of clothes--from her jacket to her socks--right at me, then tell me to put them in the hamper. Or taking a number two in the bathroom and not caring to flush. I suppose I could do that too... if I had guts, which I didn't.
All of that was to tell me she was mad at me. I still felt bad a bit, especially that our last significant interaction consisted of her taking me on a big-ass expensive shopping spree. But she didn't even apologies after it, and more importantly, didn't promise to not treat me like that again, so as far as I knew, nothing had changed. Getting abused then taken on a shopping spree as a compensation just wasn't my cup of tea; I needed her to understand that.
But, as much as I hated to admit it, the urge in me to revisit that godforsaken feeling hadn't vanished. It stuck with me ever since that first encounter in the street, and had only grown stronger.
