O barely makes it through the door before she passes out on my ottoman. I take her shoes off and cover with a blanket that she almost immediately kicks off.
In my room, I sit down on my bed and take out her card again. The temptation to text her right now is overwhelming, but I'm assuming this works the same way as with guys. Gotta play it cool.
I strip down to just my underwear and freefall onto my bed. I let my eyes close and she comes back into view. Her impossibly shiny black hair. Pink lips. Those eyes. I know it's cliche to go gaga over eyes, but hers... they're unbelievable. I'm trying to recall how she smelled. Fresh. Pure. Clean. It wasn't floral. It wasn't sweet.
Then I remember those long fingers creeping up my thigh. I'm getting chills even now. And just like that, my hand is underneath the band of my panties. I'm desperate to feel the way I did then. The incredible first-time sensation. And, really, it was a first time. That's what's so wild about this. I've never been sexual with another woman.
I mean, every girl kisses her best friend when she's too drunk to know better. But this was -- I don't know. It was... more intense than anything I've felt with a man before. She knew exactly how to touch me.
I am unwittingly massaging myself. Faster. Harder. I can't get that feeling back, but I have to cum. I employ both hands, rubbing harder and letting up at just the right moment. That wave of warm pleasure begins to wash over me as a rather powerful orgasm surprises me. My breathing halts to stifle any sounds I might like to make. My mouth is wide open, tiny breaths escaping. Eyes are squeezed shut. Fingers -- now slowed down -- working my clit.
Those telltale spasms inside run up and down inside of me while I wind down. I use my last ounce of strength to pull a sheet over me and I'm out.
_________________________________________
I wake up hot. The sun is baking me and my sheet is somewhere on the floor. I smell bacon and coffee. I can hear O singing some song from the 20s. And doing so expertly. I pull a shirt over my head and join her in the kitchen.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she continues humming.
I pour a cup of coffee, "Morning."
"I made some bacon and eggs. There's a warm plate for you in the oven and there'll be toast in a bit."
"How are you so ... alert?" I squint at her.
She walks over, pinches my cheeks, and smiles up at me, "I don't get hungover, remember, grandma?"
"Oh, right."
"Well," she pulls my plate out of the over, buries it with food, and slides it onto the island, "I'm gonna take a shower and then head over to the lake. It's 'sposed to be 60 today! You should come with," she says brightly and leaves the room before I have a chance to answer.
I scurry back to my room and retreive Lana's card and my phone. I sneak back into the kitchen, waiting by the bathroom door until I hear the shower.
What the heck do you say to someone who almost fingered you in the first 10 minutes of meeting you? What sounds totally breezy but says, "Hey, I masturbated to you last night and I'd really love to see you again but I'm also kinda terrified?"
I'm just about to start typing when my agent calls.
"Jules! How are you?"
"Elle, I'm just fine. You know I love pleasantries as anybody else, but I have some exciting news that needs to be addressed and I think we should meet."
She sounds chipper. This is weird, "Okay, sure. When? Where?"
"Noon. That Potbelly at State and Lake. I'm craving one of those Wreck sandwiches."
"Noon? As in 15 minutes from now?"
"That would be the one," I can hear her smiling.
"I'll be there!" I hang up and run to my room. I pull on a pair of jeans and throw my hair up in a ponytail.
Living in the corncob buildings, I'm not all that far from State and Lake, but this will still require me to hustle. Which I'm not a fan of in any capacity. The loop is swimming with tourists, all of them staring up at the buildings and not watching where they're going.
Jules is set up in a corner booth going to TOWN on a sandwich. I approach the table, "Would you like me to leave you two alone?"
She motions for me to sit. She holds up a finger, chewing slowly, "Okay, here's the deal. I have a producer at Lionsgate who wants to meet and talk about your script."
I jump up from the table, "Oh my god! That's amazing!"
"Here's the catch," she takes a giant bite of sandwich and chews with her eyes closed, savoring, "We..." chew chew chew "Have to leave..." chew chew chew "Tonight."
"No problem!"
"That's my girl!" she finishes her sandwich and triumphantly launches her balled-up paper bag at the garbage can, "The next flight out there is at 7:40 from O'Hare. Go home, get packed, and I'll meet you at the airport at 6."
I run all the way home and barge in the door. A note of the fridge:
I wrapped up your breakfast and put it in the fridge. I'll be home around 5. <3
I have no time for breakfast. I grab my pantsuit from the closet and put it -- along with my laptop and a copy of my script into my suitcase. I take off my jeans to jump in a shower and Lana's card falls out of the pocket.
I throb from deep within when I remember her hands. I'm feeling suddenly confident and I finally text her:
Found your card, sneaky girl.
I stare at my phone for a good 10 minutes. Nothing.
In the shower, I imagine her slim figure behind me. Her hands moving from my back, under arms, to my breasts. Everything slippery. Soapy. I pinch my nipples and imagine how she might do it. I like to think she would kiss my neck and whisper in my ear again. Pretty girl.
I hear my phone chime in the other room and finish up as quickly as I can. Sans towel, I run across the apartment.
From: Ophelia Gunderson
U comin' out?
Funny you should ask...
I text her back and tell her I'm flying to LA tonight. She follows up in typical O fashion with approximately one million questions. I reply:
I'll explain later.
