Chapter 3
Jess
I wake with a pounding headache, heartbeat throbbing and thrumming past my ears. I am acutely aware of my pussy for some reason. I'm wet and tender. I roll over and stretch, glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It flashes with the time of three a.m. in bright red letters. "Fuck..." The power had to have gone out overnight. I reach for my phone to check the time--eight twenty-nine. I can't be late to work; I need this job.
I swipe to unlock, and the first thing I see is a message thread with Allie. I was texting her last night? Confused, I scroll through the messages and read them. To my horror I realize how drunk I actually was. I have no memory of messaging her, but I said some pretty racy things. I can't believe I was so stupid, telling her I was masturbating and it wasn't working. I feel like an idiot. How embarrassing.
I shoot off a text to her apologizing for being so stupid. She's my best friend though, so even though it might be a bit awkward, I know we will laugh it off, and she'll force me to let her sleep over so I don't drink that much again. We'll eat popcorn, watch a chick flick, and that will be that. Hopefully I wasn't too bad for her, and she made it home safe in the storm.
Yawning, I push the covers back and try to sit up. My head spins a little. I had way too much to drink last night, and by the feel of it, way too much fun masturbating. My toy on the nightstand attests to that much at least, though I don't remember much at all.
Birds chirping outside draw me out of bed. I make my way to the bathroom to relieve my full bladder, and on the way, I lightly touch my clit. It's very tender, as if I had the best sex dream, and I'm ready to play. Maybe I will before I head to work. Might make my day a little better to start with anyway. After yesterday and dealing with Cora and Glenda, I need something to help me remember why I'm even in this town anymore.
I sit on the toilet and let my eyes shut as I pee. It stings a little, maybe a UTI, or maybe I just got a little rough while playing. Not sure, don't care, just want to shower and get the day over with. I have to go feed Jackson this afternoon, and maybe I'll take a ride too.
The list of things I have to do runs through my head: feed horse, mow lawn, open bank account, research toy guns. The last one seems pointless. Allie thinks they're worth something, but I don't really think so. Grandpa Gus was just a collector of old plastic crap. I once saw a dozen old bike tires hanging from a hook in that barn and asked him what they were for. He told me they were off my stepdad and his brothers' old bikes, and they never got thrown away. Those toys were probably things they played with as kids and nothing more.
My eyes flutter open and fall to the white tile chilling my toes. There is a spot of mud there, which triggers a memory--or makes me remember a dream. I'm not sure. I have this mental picture of Shep jumping on me after being out in the rain. So given the fact that the power went out and that means there must have been a storm, I assume it's a memory, not a dream. That means I probably had a shower last night, but with the mess between my legs when I woke up, and the light layer of perspiration on my skin right now, I still want another shower.
I wipe myself dry and stand, flushing the toilet and turning on the water in the shower. It heats up as I brush my teeth and hair. Can't have hair monsters clogging the drain. Then I step into the flow of water and let it wash over me, relaxing my tight muscles. I don't want to face this day or any other day. Each one that passes without GG here is a difficult one, and they get harder and harder. By now I'd have texted him good morning, made sure he took his medicine, offered to bring him a coffee on my way to the daycare. Instead, I'm alone, thinking of self-pleasuring before facing a hoard of toddlers and infants whose wealthy parents under packed their diaper bags and forgot snacks.
I turn to get my shampoo, and it's not there. Why isn't it there? I look around the nooks in the shower and spot it on the ground by the drain. As I bend to pick it up it triggers another memory--Allie, fully clothed, in the shower with me. Again confused, I stand there for a moment with my eyes shut and my neck craning backward, trying to remember what happened. Was Allie really here? Was she in the shower with me?
That thought keeps me fixated on what actually happened last night as I lather and rinse my long hair. And when I take the bar of soap and suds it up, rubbing it across my body to wash myself, other images flash through my mind. Allie on her knees, fully clothed in front of me. I touch my clit and a shiver of arousal runs through me. I'm getting turned on by the idea of Allie in the shower with me? What the fuck?
Allie is a good-looking woman; don't get me wrong. She's just my best friend, and it would be way too awkward... But fuck if my pussy doesn't really want to be touched right now and the idea of her on her knees in this shower eating me is just too arousing to resist. She'll never know I had this little fantasy, and it's just in my head anyway.
I touch myself, rubbing across my clit. A little soap makes my fingers slide easier, but without my dildo I'll never get off. I am not walking all the way to my nightstand in the air conditioning, dripping wet, to get the toy. So I look around the shower. and the only thing that even looks remotely like a toy is my shampoo bottle. It's tempting, but it looks too big.
Biting my lip, I deliberate while still massaging myself. The ache is so bad, I'm not even thinking about Allie anymore. I just want relief. I pick up the bottle and rinse it off, holding it close to my entrance. God, it's so big; it's not going to fit, but fuck if I don't want it to fit. I rub it against myself and the ache grows worse, so I do the unthinkable and try to push it in.
Clamping my eyes shut, I thrust that damn bottle into myself and yet another image flashes into my mind. Allie on her knees, fucking me with a shampoo bottle; only with the added sensation of actually putting it into myself, I know this is not a fantasy--it's a flashback.
My eyes pop open and the bottle slips out of my hand and drops to the shower floor. "Oh holy fuck, what did I do?" A sense of dread washes over me, and the need for release is instantly swept away with the moisture my body made as I rub furiously to get any trace of sex off of me. "Oh god," I whimper, starting to panic.
If I somehow convinced Allie--or forced her--to get in this shower with me and have sex... "Oh god." My heart hammers in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry. I shut the water off and grab my towel, not even bothering to dry off all the way before I race back to my bedside table and grab my phone.
The message I sent to Allie has gone unanswered. "Oh god, no." She isn't responding, which means something awful. I just know it. Allie is always awake this time of day. She's usually three coffees deep, in the middle of her commute to Dayton. "Shit!" I'm so mad at myself. How could I get so drunk and let this happen? I never drink that much.
I open my drawer and snag some jeans and a sweater, a bra and panties, and sit on the end of my bed and get dressed. All manner of horrible thoughts cross my mind. Allie feels like she was raped, and she's going to turn me in. Allie feels so upset by my behavior she's angry with me and won't ever speak to me again. A lingering thought plays at the back of my mind that she was really turned off by me. God, what if I've had her all wrong all along?
I jam my feet into my shoes and rake my hands through my hair. It's after eight thirty now which means I run the risk of being late anyway, but I have to go to Allie's apartment and see if she's there. God, I have to fix this. I need my best friend. I can't lose her over something so stupid.
Now having a mild panic attack, I grab my wallet and jog down the stairs, determined to make it to Allie's and then across town to the daycare before nine a.m. If I skip coffee and breakfast and drive as fast as I can, I can just make it--unless Allie is freaking out. Then who cares about work, because a job is replaceable. My best friend isn't.
As soon as my sneakers hit the floor at the bottom of the steps, I see Allie draped across my sofa sleeping. She is wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of my shorts which are both way too tight on her, but she's here. And she's got the throw from the armchair in the corner draped over her face blocking out the light. An empty bottle of vodka sits on the floor next to her hand which dangles from the sofa cushion precariously.
"Fuck," I breathe, thankful she didn't just leave. That means it's not that bad, right? I am freaking out for no reason.
For a moment all I can do is stand there staring at her. What the hell am I supposed to say to her when I wake her up? Because I have to wake her up now. She's already late for work by at least an hour because she has to make the commute, but facing what we did last night--fuck. What do I say about that?
I think about just slipping out of the house for a moment, leaving her sleep peacefully, but I hear Shep whimper in his kennel. I have to let him out, or there will be a lake in the laundry room by the time I get home. That's not fair to him, and the landlord won't like it one bit. My shoulders sag as I come to the realization that the mature, responsible thing to do is to own up to what happened and wake her up.
Sighing, I set my wallet and phone on the stand next to Allie's bag and scratch my forehead. I'm procrastinating, but anyone in my situation would. I steel myself and walk over to the sofa, parking my scrawny ass on the coffee table. Allie snores lightly; it's cute. I fold the throw back, exposing her face. Her mouth hangs open, and I see drool collected at the corner of her lips.
Her eyes blink open, and she jolts, jerking to a sitting position with eyes wide. I tense, not sure what's worse, scaring her awake or facing the music. She licks her lips and rubs her eyes, and then she scoots away from me, like she's afraid or feels guilty.
