I hadn't wanted to go to the sleepover.
It had all been Vicki's idea, and really - when I think about it - everything that happened afterwards was her fault. The idea of sitting around in sleeping bags, gossiping with her shallow new college friends was totally unbearable to me. But Vicki's my best friend. How could I refuse?
We hadn't seen much of each other since we left to different colleges after graduation. I went off to a state school and Vicki, ever the over-achiever, went off to private school in New England. You'd think those schools only let in really smart people, but her new friends were all morons with wealthy, well-connected parents. This fact seemed to elude Vicki, laughed at all their jokes, suddenly held all of the same interests, and even began dressing just like them.
Me, I hadn't changed much since high school. Still the loner with her nose buried in a book most days. No real clue what I was going to do after college; I was still undeclared going into the spring semester. That didn't bother me much. I was sure some soul-sucking job would present itself shortly enough, and I was in no rush to meet it. I was - still am - fairly average looking, with no real distinguishing features. I sort of disappeared in a crowd, and I guess that's how I like it.
Spring break meant returning home, and home was a seaside town in the Gulf. If you're wondering why I'm being vague about everything, take a look what website you're on and take a wild guess as to why I'd keep the clues to my identity as vague as possible. I'm not ashamed or anything, but I'll be damned if this confession makes its way into inner circle.
Vicki had convinced her friends to come down with her for spring break, much to my dismay. There were already enough sex-starved college students on the prowl in our hometown during the break, why did she have to invite more? The truth was, I was a little jealous. I hadn't made many new friends in college, and I had been hoping to spend a quiet week with my family and Vicki. Like how things were in high school.
But Vicki banished any of thought of that the moment I saw her. We had bonded in high school over our mutual shyness, disguised as a cynical distrust of society. I had kept my side of that partnership. But the Vicki I had once known had since evaporated.
"Ash!" she screamed when I answered the door, in a high voice that I didn't recognize. She hugged me while jumping up and down in excitement - I was too bewildered to return it.Were those highlights in her hair? Since when did she was such tiny, tight shorts and colorful revealing tops? When did she get over her hatred of her own body? Why the fuck was she screaming?
If she had noticed my complete lack of enthusiasm, she seemed intent on ignoring it. In my dining room, she mostly rambled on about how beautiful New England was compared to our grimy seaside town, how lovely the school was, her new romantic flings ("But nothing too serious, you know? I'm keeping my mind on my studies.") and on and on. I mostly stared at her and wondered where my best friend had gone.
As she got up to leave, she sprung the sleepover idea on me. I almost immediately said no, as a reflex and on general principle, but there was something in her eyes as she asked me that made me pause.
It was fear.
Not like, life or death fear, this isn't that kind of story. It was more like pleading, I guess. It occurred to me that despite her self-described love for her new friends, she seemed terrified of making a bad impression. She wanted someone familiar there.
Like I said, how could I say no?
***
So enough boring setup, that I'm sure all you horny fucks totally skipped. Let's get to why I'm writing this confession.
Of course, I'd been to Vicki's house before, and of course I'd met her older sister Valerie before, (yeah, she has those kind of parents, the kind that needs all their kids' names to start with the same letter. Their mother's name? Vanessa.) but I had never really talked to Val in all the years that I'd known her. She was a little older than us, 23 to our 19, and she seemed... well, aloof. She was lean and athletic, with hard eyes that made her seem really butch, except for her really long black hair that I always thought was beautiful and feminine. She was always excelled in sports and attended a California school on a track scholarship. For all the time she spent outside, her skin was remarkably pale.
She'd never shown much interest in myself or Vicki for that matter, always off doing something else whenever we arrived. And when we all showed up for the sleepover, she seemed no different. She was in a tank top and baggy sweatpants, and only nodded at us as we filed in. She grabbed something from the kitchen and was gone after a few quick introductions.
I totally thought it was my imagination when her eyes seemed to linger on mine as she walked out.
Look, before we go any further, I hate to disappoint any lesbians reading this story, but despite what's about to happen, I'm not a lesbian. I'm totally not averse to it happening again (and again, and again) but I definitely like guys. I'll admit, I had no idea I was bisexual before this experience, but she didn't do the full conversion. I will admit, she came pretty damn close, and for days, all I could think about was women - but that's another story.
Vicki's friends were all gorgeous, well-dressed morons with names like Lori and Felicity and Tiffany and I said very little to any of them. Not because I'm rude; very little of the conversation was directed towards me. It seemed that Vicki's fears were unfounded, her sleepover was going wonderfully, and I was an unneeded accessory.
We all threw down our sleeping bags in Vicki's spacious living room and settled in to watch a movie. I had thrown my sleeping bag in the back of the room, behind everyone else, so I could scroll through my phone without disturbing anyone. We were watching a horror movie called You're Next. I hear it's great. Despite the fact that I was present for the whole movie, I didn't see much of it. Vicki's parents weren't home, so the volume was blasted very loud.
About half an hour in, all hell breaks loose in the movie with a bunch of screaming and glass shattering. That's when I felt it.
I was lying on my stomach on my sleeping bag when I felt a warm body slither up my backside. I was about yell out, startled - maybe it was Vicki's younger brother, Victor - but a finger went to my lips. I half turned, and saw it was Val, casually lying on top of me, facing the TV screen.
I didn't know what to do. She had done it casually, so confidently, it made me doubt my initial reaction. She watched the movie for a moment, then looked at me - still awkwardly half-turned to look at her - her face inches from mine.
"How's the movie?" she asked.
"Um..." It took me a full ten seconds to realize what she had said. That doesn't sound like a long time, but wait ten seconds the next time someone asks you a question and see how long it is. "It's cool."
"Mm." She went back to watching the movie, lying on me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I slowly turned back to the movie myself - I wasn't totally uncomfortable, obviously, I wasn't about to call for help. I was just totally surprised by this, and unsure what it meant. I had heard rumors about Val's sexuality, of course. But I never really paid any attention to them. And even if she was gay, that didn't mean she was into me, right?
Side-tangent: This is why I totally hate political correctness. I couldn't just ask Val, "Are you trying to fuck me right now?" because what if this how all girls bond in California? Then I'm a homophobe, and my life is over with before it's even begun.
When I turned back to the movie, she took it as an invitation to wrap her arms around mine and nestle her chin in between my neck and shoulder. Ok, it's very hard to misread that. It felt good, comforting even. And definitely erotic. To paint an image, Val is like an Amazon compared to me. She's 5'11 to my 5'3, so her body totally encompasses mine.