Hello again! This is the beginning of a fairly sweet D/s story and there won't be sex for a while. I haven't told you much about either character because they will be slowly become more known as the story progresses.
I will reveal more about Fred in the next installment, so just use your imagination right now, and the history will become more detailed. Also, don't actually do this letter thing! It's not all that romantic in real life.
As before, for 18+ only, no being rude, and don't steal my writing.
Best,
Beatrice
***
Fred and her had been together practically since they were little kids. They were inseparable, playing and telling each other everything. Most childhood friends grow apart, but as they went from children to teenagers to adults, they were still each other's rock. He had soothed bruised knees from tree climbing, coached her for her exams, and held her through grief. She had been at his side through chicken pox, first heartbreak, and depression.
But Claire felt that the bond was falling apart. Now that they were in college, they developed different interests, ran in separate circles, and their conversations were shallow now. Besides, there was a certain over done fool in skimpy somethings who Claire wanted to punch every time she saw her clinging to Fred's arm. Not that she didn't have occasional dates, but it still felt like a cold knife in her guts.
It was what happened, she told herself as she threw her laundry into a loudly groaning basket and wiped away a tear. People aren't meant to stay side by side for life. Why did it hurt so much?
"He'll come around," her best friend Elle had told her. "You have all this history, you have excellent rapport, you are funny and smart and kind with a little badassery thrown in! Besides, you are gorgeous! No really! Your body is amazing and you face matches. Now if only I could get you let me give you a makeover..."
At that point, Claire had ceased listening. Elle was kind and funny, but she did seem to place too much importance on looks. Claire didn't even feel that way about Fred, did she?
Did she? Was she in love? She flopped on top of a defunct washer, stunned by her own cluelessness. Of course; all the pieces fit. The continual reminiscing, her rejection of dates, her murderous rage every time that floozy came into sight, the crying herself to sleep, those dreams...she blushed and made her thoughts go into a more appropriate direction.
The question was now whether anything could be done. Grabbing the newly cleaned clothes, she headed back to her dorm.
What could she do? Outright seduction would be signing up for rejection and she still had moral standards. Fred would never accept an overt approach from a friend and Claire honestly didn't have the guts. Besides, she knew she wasn't conventionally attractive. Neither petite or glamorously tall, she also had been gifted with a lack of figure. Her hair was unruly and a drab light brown. The only feature she felt could be called beautiful were her eyes, and that didn't help much. Not to mention she couldn't do sexy all that well.
She was wrong about her looks though. Her figure was well porportioned, her height was perfect for the rest of her, and her hair had the thickness and waves worthy of a Renaissance painting. But she had always been the shy nerd, so she barely ever wore anything that wasn't a huge tee shirt and baggy jeans.
