NOTE: This is set in the same Universe as Daily Commute, and features the character of Corinne from that story, but it's not a direct sequel, and they can be read in any order.
* * *
Phoebe took a deep breath, leaning on the sink and looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Corinne gave her hand a squeeze.
"Nervous?"
Phoebe nodded. The face looking back at her in the mirror was one she'd rather not linger on. Pale, a little bit fat, and rather asymmetrical. A haircut that she thought suited her but definitely wasn't cool.
She looked like a librarian, and not the kind of librarian who was really just a porn star in glasses. The kind of librarian who was a dork who rarely got laid.
The Metamorphosis was supposed to have fixed her.
That was the day, years ago, when everything had suddenly changed. People all over the world had woken up with a chill new attitude about life in general, and sex in particular.
It had become perfectly normal and socially acceptable to just start smooching with a cute stranger in the dairy aisle, or to see someone getting eaten out under the table at a restaurant.
The last time Phoebe had gone out to the museum with her friends, she'd seen Corinne making eyes with a hot young art professor over some Assyrian bas-reliefs, and a few minutes later she'd spotted them fucking behind the gift shop.
Phoebe avoided those kinds of encounters like the plague. In this new world of complicated little codes, the winks and hand gestures and earrings, she felt lost. Awkward. Afraid of rejection.
It didn't make sense, she knew, to fear rejection now that you could walk out your door and proposition the first ten adults you saw, and no one would be offended. But somehow the fact that everyone was getting it all the time made the idea of being spurned even more crushing. She had always been terribly shy, and apparently it would take more than a worldwide spiritual-slash-sexual awakening to change that.
Her last attempt to break out of her shell had been a big party where people were hooking up left and right. Phoebe hated parties. She'd tried to talk to a couple people, laughed awkwardly at maybe-pickup-lines she couldn't hear over the crowd, and eventually spent an hour lurking in a dark corner feeling sorry for herself.
She had always wanted more than anything else to just be invisible. And now, she was about to be very visible indeed.
"What if nobody is interested?" she said. Her stomach sank wildly from the pre-humiliation of it.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Corinne.
Slowly, Phoebe clicked a new bead into place in her left earring, just below the crossbar indicating her pronouns. A bright green orb, slightly opalescent. It was pretty, but it wasn't a fashion accessory, it was a sign, one that came in metaphorical big flashing letters: FUCK ME.
She has first seen somebody wearing one a few months ago.
It had been in the lobby of a glassy new Manhattan shopping complex Corinne had dragged her to. There, surrounded by sharply dressed people bustling past with their Christmas gifts, was a rather fine mahogany table which looked like it normally had prissy floral arragments on it.
Lying on that table had been a stocky, blonde, bearded man, wearing nothing but his earrings, the bright green bead aglow in the tasteful lighting. There was a good-looking guy in a charcoal grey overcoat fucking him in the ass.
The blonde man's chest and face sparkled with come. His face was red, which might have been true even normally, and he was moaning softly.
Phoebe had paused to watch, catching Corinne's arm. She saw a young couple watching as well, as they came down the escalator. The adults gave each other a quick kiss, and then one walked into a store. The other approached the man on the table, unzipping their pants, and without a word, thrust their cock into the man's mouth.
"Is..." Phoebe remembered herself stammering, "Is that okay? Is
he
okay?"
"He's wearing a greenie," Corinne had laughed. "He's fine. It means you're, uh, 100% open for business."
"Whoa," Phoebe had said. "No questions asked, huh?"
"Crazy, right? No-o-o thanks."
"Yeah, not in a million freakin' years," Phoebe had said as they boarded the escalator. "God."
That night, she had ridden her vibe to a furious climax thinking about the blonde man getting fucked every which way.
The next night, in Phoebe's fantasy it had been her on the mahogany table.
For a while she had continued to dismiss it as nothing more than jack-off fodder. There was an intoxicating freedom in the idea of letting go of all the anxiety-inducing parts of sex, and just presenting yourself to the world on a platter.
But obviously it wasn't for her. It couldn't be, right?
Sure, the Metamorphosis had made infectious disease a thing of the past. And sure, folks had become incredibly chill about behavior that would once have gotten you cast out from polite society.
But was she really capable of going to go through with this?
"Do you," Corinne said slowly, "Want me to get you started? Break the ice?"
"You're not supposed to ask," Phoebe shot back, more sharply than she had intended. "You're just supposed to do it. Isn't that the whole point?"
"Ah! Sorry."
Corinne nestled up behind Phoebe and cupped her boobs.
"You're wearing
two
bras?" Corinne giggled.
"I always wear two," Phoebe scowled at her friend in the mirror. "Gotta keep the ladies contained."
"You're too funny."
Corinne reached up under Phoebe's purple t-shirt and —
pop! pop!
— unclasped the two bras. Phoebe meekly raised her arms as Corinne pulled the whole assemblage up over her head.
She snatched at the shirt, though, and pulled it back on as Corinne stuffed the bras in her purse.
It was a shirt she'd been thinking about throwing out, because it was a little too tight. But it, along with one of her shortest (not really that short) skirts, seemed appropriate for today's purpose.
"There you go," Corinne grinned, and gave her a firm swat on the ass, directing her towards the door. "At least let the people see some jiggle."
Phoebe poked her head cautiously out of the restroom, earning herself another swat. She glared at Corinne, and started to walk.
Outside, people were pulling on roller-skates. Just beyond was the rink, where the DJ was currently blasting vintage disco tracks. Beyond that was a whole city park full of people who would see Phoebe's earrings and recognize that the little green beads meant blanket permission to touch her body any way they pleased.
A guy saw her as he was lacing up. His eyes went to her ears, and then went wide. He gave her a little smile, but went back to what he was doing.
She reached the meadow at the edge of the rink. Nearby, some slackers were skateboarding around a Sojourner Truth statue. A middle-aged man in a Mets cap nodded at her and Corinne as he passed.
A couple more people walked by with nary a glance.
Phoebe had never felt more undesirable.
She was about to rip the damn greenies out of her earrings when she caught a glimpse of a pair of women coming her way down the side path.
"Hel-
lo
there," one of them purred, sidling up to Phoebe and touching her waist. She had wavy red hair and a tank top that displayed a mass of tattoos across her shoulders and chest.
The other woman, who had medium brown skin and wore a little yellow sundress, a big hat, and a huge smile, approached Phoebe from the front. She cupped Phoebe's chin in her hand, and made an appreciative chirp.
Phoebe stood still as the sundress woman's fingers brushed down her neck, past her collar, finding a nipple tenting the purple t-shirt. She gave Phoebe's nipple a little tug.
The redhead had slid her hands up Phoebe's shirt and was feeling around in there playfully. The attention was sending tingles all through her body. Her breasts, moving with such unfamiliar freedom, were very much at the forefront of her awareness.
"Have you been out here for a while?" asked sundress lady.
"Obviously not," said the redhead. "She's too clean."
"Just a few minutes," confirmed Phoebe. One of the women kissed her on the cheek, and the other around the collarbone.
"Mmm," said the redhead, reaching a hand down her skirt to tease her pubic hairs. "Well, have fun."
The two of them walked off, laughing brightly.
Phoebe felt a hand on her ass, and realized that a man had approached her from behind while she was being fondled by the two women. He had reached under her skirt, and was pulling her panties down her legs.
Corinne, who had been standing nearby with a half-smile, put out a hand, and the man gave her the panties, which she stuffed into her purse.
The man sank to one knee behind her. She guessed he was probably five years older than her, with slightly greying stubble on a firm jaw.
"Bend over, and stand with your legs apart," he said softly.
Wearing greenies didn't mean you were obliged to follow any rando's orders, Corinne knew, but it seemed congruent with the spirit of the thing.
The stranger's fingers slid along her pussy lips, then gently parted them. She could feel his breath. She was trembling a little.
He ran his tongue up her slit, and she gasped. He shifted behind her. Was he standing up?
She imagined him thrusting his cock into her right there on the cobbled path, but she realized after a moment that he had walked away.
"Hey!" she said as she straightened, but not loudly enough for him to hear.
Corinne laughed, and took her hand, leading her on down the path.
"Remember," Corinne said softly. "I'm here for you. Anything you need."
