WORSHIP
She will be home soon from her run. It's hot out today, she will come back all pink of face and shining with her fresh young sweat.
My heart races slightly at the thought, despite myself I lick my tongue in anticipation.
I will do my duty as always. I will be a good Chinese girl.
It wasn't always this way. I didn't always wait eagerly to lick the sweat from every inch of my roommate's body. I'm not a lesbian! I'm not even bi.
I just worship Emily, my beautiful White Goddess.
It was simple chance that brought us together. A random assignment of college roommates, nothing more. A different random assignment and I wouldn't be shamelessly and lovingly slobbering on another girl's asshole every day.
I was already in our room when we met. I remember it so well, every moment, every word in the day that changed my life.
That was a warm day too. One moment I am alone thinking about unpacking, the next she is just there.
Let me tell you about Emily. Did she saunter into the room like she owned it already? Would I say she glides in? What is the word that properly describes the effortless grace that some of these privileged white bitches waltz about with?
I disliked her immediately on that day. I admit it. I own my jealousy. My envy. My awe.
Oh yes I am most certainly in awe of Emily Lauren Parkinson. That's her name. Of course it is. A name whiter than she is! I hated her already. Her and all her friends that I immediately conjure up in my mind. They will have names like Madison and Sydney and Emma and Grace. They will have beautiful white teeth just like she does and long, long legs and tall tanned footballer boyfriends. They will be everything that I am not.
Emily Lauren Parkinson is sickeningly perfect. It is clear from the outset. She is so, so American, with big American confidence and big American hair, long flowing beautiful curly blonde tresses that move with all the confidence she does and highlight her perfect beautiful American face. A cute adorable little slightly turned up nose, a hint of freckles, big bright blue eyes that she is long practised in enchanting and teasing and charming with. You know the type.
I feel like she blocks out the sun, or is the sun, and I am left in the shade. Why couldn't I be five foot ten and have her long, gorgeous legs that go on for miles and make me, all of just five feet high, feel a midget? Why did I have to get my tiny little Chinese tits and not those perky, deliciously formed and well developed plump breasts threatening to break out of her top on this sunny day?
Emily Lauren Parkinson, I hate you. I hate all your lush curves, I hate your beautiful legs, your amazing tits, your American ass, honed to perfection by your years of working out and yoga, and now in all its heart shaped glory bulging in those tiny shorts. I hate your hips and your hair and your dazzling smile, your elegant voice and your flat stomach and your beautiful belly button that of course you also needed to be showing off today as well.
Emily Lauren Parkinson, you are a fucking nightmare and without even saying a word you make me feel like a tiny undeveloped ugly gnomechild.
I hated you right away.
I hated too that you made me stop hating you.
You can't hate the sun that surrounds you and illuminates your life. You can't hate effortless charm and beauty.
You can't keep hating the Goddess.
In the end you hold the Goddess in awe and you come to worship Her.
*****
How did it begin? I didn't just start out begging to lick her pussy you know.
Emily just has this way. I can't describe it accurately.
She is friendly. She is always nice to me. I can't say she ever treated me badly. I can't say she let me in either, nor did she keep me out exactly. Lots of things are unspoken. She never made me feel bad apart from her existing in all her disgusting perfection, and I suppose even that's not her fault. When it comes down to it a Goddess has a very high opinion of herself, even if it's never spoken out loud.
E is for Emily, E is for Entitled. Emily was raised to be pleasant and polite and she is. She would never be prejudiced or unkind, she would find that common and crass, and beneath her. She never quite treated me like an equal, but then Emily while she would never say it or admit it never really treats anyone like an equal. I don't resent that. Truth be told, I expect no differently. I don't have her beauty, her confidence and her gracefulness. I do feel clumsy and ugly beside her. We're not equals.
So Emily and I shared our room together. We weren't friends per se, she had Madison and Sydney and Emma and Grace or whatever the names of her cronies are for that, but we were friendly. She charmed me out of my initial dislike and we got along well enough, in the way that roommates do.
Now I'm a modest asian girl. I dress modestly and I don't like to expose myself. Basically I'm pretty shy and I'm self conscious about my flat skinny body, even more so in comparison to Emily.
Emily is the opposite. She's not at all self conscious and is very comfortable getting out and about in skimpy outfits that would have my father disown me. When the sun is out the tops are low cut and the shorts are tiny and tight.
Of course the boys are always looking, she pays this no mind, it's so common in her life she barely even registers it now. Attention is just part of being Emily, ever present so not worth notice. I look too, in both admiration and awe at this creature so beautiful, so full of life, so radiant and comfortable in her magnificent young womanhood.
It's hard not to look when you share a room. There's Emily in her Lululemon doing yoga on our floor, bent over in downward dog, perfect ass pointing up high, those tight tight leggings clinging like a second skin to that heavenly bottom. There's Emily, legs apart, lying on her stomach on her bed in her underwear reading a textbook. There's Emily coming out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.
And why not? We're two straight girls who live together and she's just being comfortable in her own home, oblivious in her typical Emilyness that I might even notice or be affected. That I might catch myself staring at her, my head full of both pity for myself that I'm nothing like her, and a sense of almost wonder that such a being exists. That I might sit in the chair in the room that gives me the perfect view of her downward dog ass.
I'm not lesbian. I'm not into girls. I don't look at girls' asses.
I just look at Emily.
I've seen so much of her. I've studied her thighs, her belly, her bottom, her cleavage. I gaze with rapt attention into her sapphire eyes when she is speaking to me. I look and I mentally compare myself to her and then I look back some more, lost in her feminine perfection.
I try to be discreet about it, but I needn't bother as she doesn't even notice!
I do so many things for Emily. I want to please her. I want her to be my friend. I clean the room. I cook for her. I get the groceries. She accepts all I do for her with the same friendly good natured politeness that she treats everybody else. She does nothing in return.
She smiles a lot. She has so many smiles. Laughing smiles. Charming smiles. Knowing smiles. Mischievous smiles.
It is with a knowing enigmatic smile that she first says out of the blue what changed everything and set us on our path.
"You like to look at me"
I am struck dumb. Seems she has noticed all along!
I deny it. "What? I don't know what you mean."
Another smile, one of her disarming charming ones.
"Oh, yes you do. You love looking at me. You look at me more than most boys!"
There is no judgement in her words, no challenge, it's an observation not a criticism.
My heart is pounding.
Another smile.
"It's fine. I don't mind. I like being looked at. I like it when you look at me. I want you to look at me."
"I don't know what to say."
"You say you will."
There is a pause. Part of me feels a trap is being set.
"Well?"
"I will look at you."
"Good. I'm going to do my yoga now. Sit in your chair, the one you like when you watch my ass."
*****
Days pass. Our routine hasn't changed but something has. She's very obviously aware of my looks now, she smiles every time she catches me looking which she often does.
Self conscious and shy about being found out I try to stop.
We are both sitting on the couch watching a show we're streaming. She is wearing a pair of really tight, really short shorts and a halter top.
