The following story is true, it happened to me two summers ago. Some details have been embellished for dramatic effect ... but only slightly. This is my first story so If it's terrible, cut me some slack. This isn't a short story, so if your looking for quick gratification and sex between two characters that haven't been developed by the author outside of "sally had big tits" then don't bother reading.
*****
Painting is never a clean task. No matter how organized you happen to be as a person or how careful you are with your splatters, paint always ends up everywhere. On your face, on your clothes ... in your hair. Painting should be left for professional guys (or girls, in the interests of equality) who know what they are doing and wont end up trying to comb a large wad of Dutch Boy out of their hair at the end of the day.
I was not so fortunate to have a friend that heeded my advice.
It was late July, and my friend Lisa and I were painting her new townhouse she had just moved into. Lisa, who never was very mechanically inclined nor had she ever done much work with her hands in all her life, thought saving some money and painting her new place on her own would be-and I quote- 'fun.' This is a girl who, at 20, can afford her own townhouse as well as plenty of other gizmos and whatnots that people enjoy having. I asked her why she thought it would be more fun to muck around in a slightly flammable substance when we could be out enjoying ourselves on her wealth. She answered with "it will give us time to talk and spend time together ... you've been with Tony so much lately I don't know you anymore"
The latter was indeed true, this was about the time I was first getting serious with my boyfriend, but I certainly didn't think I had been seeing him to the exclusion of my closest friends. I did, however, feel slightly guilty at this accusation so I agreed to help Lisa paint her new place, with the understanding that it not take all day.
This story takes place at night, after taking all day painting.
Late July is a particularly oppressive time in northern Ohio, as the breezes from the lake seem to all but disappear, and the humidity seems to blanket everything. Tonight was one of those nights where you feel like as if all of your neighbors have hidden humidifiers under their porches and are conspiring to make the air as thick as possible. The kind of night where you know, just by the consistency of the air and the quietness of the night that a storm is on the way, and you strain to see the first raindrops hit the pavement and send small clouds of steam rising from it. It was nearly 85 degrees that night, unusually warm for 10PM, and while there indeed was a storm on the way, the radar was still showing all the dark green, yellow and red as still being in Michigan and moving slowly east towards the suburbs of Cleveland. Lisa and I were working in her new living room, as the bathroom and bedrooms were all she wanted painted. We had done the first coat in there during the day, now we were back for the second coat, and almost finished with the whole task. At this point I was getting more then a little peeved, I had already missed my night out playing pool with Tony and some of his buddies, and instead of drinking beer and being handled by an amazingly attractive man, I was slopping 'soft eggshell' on walls listening to banal commentary about how much the Indians suck (with that fact however, I totally agree).
I should describe myself for you, as I'm sure that's the only thing you are wondering at this point. I am 21 years of age, rather petit at 108 lb. and 5'4. I'm skinnier then most, but that's because of my metabolism not because I throw up whatever I eat to make myself worthy of the cover of Vogue. I have brown hair that currently runs past my shoulders, brown eyes and small, A cup breasts. My name (as you may have guessed) is Brittney and I'm from the suburbs of Cleveland in the most useless state in the union, Ohio.
Now my friend Lisa on the other hand is shaped quite differently. If you took me and stretched me out on all sides like you would do with a window on your desktop, you would have Lisa. Taller then me by a good 7 inches, she is also twenty to thirty pounds heavier, but she carries it well and is amazingly proportionate. A lot of her is muscle, while I think a lot of me is air, perhaps alcohol. She has very attractive features, but not what most people would call a 'hottie' ... she has more 'down to earth' good looks. Her hair is shorter, down to about her chin and even though it changes quite frequently, at this time it was brown like mine. Her eyes are a very unusual steel gray and she hides an impressive 36DD chest under the T-shirts and sweaters she usually wears. If you have a picture of two stunning beauties in your head then you have a pretty accurate one, just of somebody else. I hesitate to say we are the 'girl next door' types, since nowadays the girls next door have a 'girls gone wild' video series, but 'girl next door' is a rather apt description.
"Hey Lis ... uh, do you like hand prints?" I asked
"What do you mean 'hand prints'?"
"A representation of a hand outlined with something ... in this case, paint"
She looked over to the wall I was working on "You dumbass now you have to paint over that!"
"Well its not my fault I almost fell off this chair you've given me ... don't you have anything else besides wicker to stand on?"
"No I don't now come on we're almost done"
Lisa's new place was virtually empty, as she hadn't technically moved in yet. About the only smart thing she did was decide to paint before she moved her furniture and such from her old apartment, which was only a few streets away. Apart from a small TV, radio, cooler filled with Jell-O shots and Arbor Mist and painting supplies, the place was barren. Much to my chagrin when I discovered there wasn't any toilet paper earlier that day.
"Hey jumps ... want to keep helping me some more?" She inquired
I eyed her suspiciously ... she only used my nickname when she wanted something "What do you mean?"
"Well, I was thinking I wanted to do the kitchen after all ... we're here and everything and we have enough paint."
I stood there, precariously balanced on wicker, trying to decide what to do next.
"Come on babe it will only be a few more hours"
That did it... I jumped down and flung my just dipped brush at her face
"What the hell Lisa!" I was irate "We've been here almost 12 hours and now you want to do more? I had plans tonight that didn't include redecorating your new shag pad NOR did they include having to wipe myself with a paint rag! No! I said I'd help if it didn't take a long time and it already has so screw you I'm not your friend for 5 minutes"
She was calm and composed after my outburst as she always was, I was and still am the emotional one. She wiped the paint off her nose and mouth and said "If you help me with the kitchen, I will help you repaint your new place"
That gave me pause ... this I had to think about. I had signed a lease on my first place just the week prior, and I knew I would need to repaint it when I finally moved in. I had planned to hire some kids I knew from high school to paint it for me cheap, but the thought of making Lisa paint my place like I had painted hers was too good to pass up.
I sighed "OK fine deal. But we're only doing one coat and you do the second one tomorrow by yourself"
She agreed and we finished up the living room and went on to the kitchen. By the time we were done it was nearly 1AM, both of us sick of painting, starting to feel the effects of the Jell-O shots and just wanting to chill and relax for the few hours left in the evening before I had to be home at 3.
"That really sucked" I remarked, as we were washing up. "I hope your happy"
