Double Or Nothing Ch 08

I awoke once more in the night as someone lifted the sheet and slipped into my bed beside me, curling up gently against my back. Warm and soft.

Emily.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked quietly.

"Mmmm," I think was my answer. She touched my shoulder, and I, her hand.

Holding it, sleep took me back, quickly.

Some time later, I opened my eyes as the sun began pressing in through the curtains. I could hear my parents putting away things in the kitchen. With a glance at the clock, I knew they'd be leaving soon.

I looked down at sleeping Emily. Her hair was a mess. She had kicked off the sheets in the night. She had slept beside me in plain white cotton things, stained from my brother's seed seeping out of her, and she still smelled faintly of sex. Her pale belly peeked out at me from the gap between her two garments.

I watched her breathe, the way her full breasts moved slightly under the camisole with the rising and falling of her chest. I felt the urge to touch her, then, anywhere, everywhere, but I resisted, letting her sleep.

Once my parents had gone, I crawled out of bed, noticing as I passed that Emily had folded her clothes on the floor. The house was quiet. Jordan must have still been asleep, too.

I made a cup of hot tea and went out on the deck in my little nightgown to drink it. The morning was already warm. In the quiet, feeling daring, I slipped out of my nightdress and stood there where no one could see me, just me and the warm cup in my hands. I thought of the streaker who had started us all on this journey, and I felt what he must have felt, standing outside bared to the sky. I could have been like that forever.

Finishing my tea, I went back to my room and my bed, forgetting my little covering there on the deck. Emily stirred, and I reached out and traced a finger on her delicate arm, raising goosebumps there. She let out a sigh.

"Good morning."

"Mmmm."

"You were up late," I smiled, trailing my finger down closer to her hand, hesitating by her wrist, and touching my way back up to her shoulder.

"Yeah," she giggled and stretched, "we did it again one more time after you left."

"Great," I rolled my eyes in mock displeasure, "I just hope you're on birth control, missy."

She smiled. She leaned up and kissed me, caressing my face with her hand.

Then she moved to me. Oh, blessed warmth. I held her to me.

I think often about the words we exchanged next. They were powerful words, words I'm still not sure I can define, even after all of these years.

"I love you," she said, interrupting the embrace of our lips for one moment, and it splashed right over and through me, like nothing I had ever felt.

I drew back, fixing a strand of her hair. "Yeah." I said. I know. "I love you, too."

Looking back on this over the passage of years, of loves and triumphs and sorrows, I smile. Two young women, pledging their love, who had barely even touched each other. What I wish for, across the years, is not taking back those words, but that there had been more of the touching, back then.

But such thoughts were far from me, then. My doubts, that morning, were of a more immediate sort. "What about Jordan?" I asked, tracing her nipple with my fingers.

"I don't know," she said, rolling back and smiling contentedly. "We'll see how it goes. For now, we're just ... I don't know."

"No, I mean, what about this?" And I kissed her again, taking her whole breast in my hand.

She smiled. "Are you kidding? Isn't it every man's fantasy?" We laughed. I liked laughing with her.

She wanted a drink and I told her about the tea and hot water I'd left in the kitchen. "I'm going to get in the shower," I said. "Come in when you're done with your tea and I'll leave the water on for you."

She stroked my arm once and got up, leaving my room in her underthings. I watched the small round back of her panties, how they moved as she left the room. She was a beautiful young woman.

Still naked myself, I crossed the hall to the bathroom.

Standing under the hot water, after soaping and rinsing myself, I let myself reach down and explore my desire.

I opened easily. Our kiss had done that to me. I wondered, was I turning into a lesbian? I thought of her cuddling behind me in bed late at night and I thought, if that is being a lesbian, well, I don't know. It felt nice.

Touching myself, I wondered if I could touch her, there. Could I let her touch me there? We hadn't even come close to it. I didn't know how to begin. But something rising inside me wanted to learn.

Just then Emily came in to the bathroom, closing the door, holding my nightshirt, while I touched myself.

"Someone...." Then she stopped. Watching me.

I had not stopped. Did not stop. The hot water cascading down my bare body, and oh, God, very self-conscious, I kept softly rubbing that place.

Emily watched for a moment, not saying a word, then slipped out of her undies and top, and stepped into the water beside me. Kissing my shoulder inside the streams of hot water, she slid her hand under mine. I gave way to her. This. This was how it began.

I thought, later, that maybe I was supposed to do something for her. But my mind could focus on nothing but the warm waves of pleasure she gave to me with her hand. I clung to her, curled myself around her, as I came for her then. She stroked me softly afterwards, raising my face to hers, and we kissed once more in the arms of the water.

"Now get out of here!" she playfully pushed on my shoulders. "I need room to wash my hair."

I stepped out on the mat and reached for a towel, keeping my gaze on her body as I tended my hair. She saw me watching her. "Hello? Privacy!" she crowed, and pretended to cover herself from me.

I smiled, and turned to go.

"Oh wait. ... please?" she called after me, gestured for me, and I drew myself closer. She reached out a wet hand and played it across both of my nipples, making them rise for her. "Do you know?" Her head tilted.

She let her hands stop on me. "I meant what I said about these."

"They are perfect." She squeezed one, gently.

I blushed, savoring her touch.

"Thank you," was all that I could think of to say. Her hand fell from me.

I bent down and picked up my nightie and carried it back toward my room.