Impact 06

The "Impact" series began as a collaboration with ButteredCrumpet who posted our original versions* as "Impact of Collision".

For those who pay attention to such things: When Sarah is alone the story is in the past tense. When Claire and Sarah are together, or on the phone together, the story is in present tense.

Special thanks to HaltWhoGoesThere for proof reading this chapter - repeatedly.

Impact of Annunciation

"What are you doing?" I asked a blameless stack of clean panties; accused really. They stared back at me lifelessly.

What I was doing was putting away my clean laundry while a three-bean chili simmered on the stove, and playing the weekend back in my mind. The madness of it made me blush, starting with picking a fight at a restaurant with a muscle bound Fascist Dandy. The kind of drama I had avoided my WHOLE life. And it had only gotten crazier and crazier, until all the madness seemed to crescendo last night with Claire ordering me to eat her pussy, swearing at me and calling me "whore" and "slut" while I did.

I thought again how she had wielded the word slut, accusing me with its crudest sense, but also used it as an affectionate; how she had made "whore" sound both like a slur and an honorific...

And then it was as if

nothing

had happened. We had a quiet brunch this morning and parted with kisses on the cheek.

'And I miss her,' I realized, bewildered... my fingers touched the place on my cheek where Claire had kissed me.

My phone rang and I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Mom!" I answered.

"Sarah Beth? Is that you?" she asked sarcastically, but she didn't sound mad.

"Sorry, I've been meaning to call," I explained. "How was your weekend?

"Exhausting, it's the parish festival next weekend. I don't know how I let myself get roped into these things, but I'm organizing it this year. It's a disaster..."

I listened while she told me about all her drama. Touched my lips. Fingered my mouth. The little web of flesh beneath my tongue was tender where I'd cut it on my teeth licking Claire's pussy.

"So, your brother applied to the NYU film program," she said, switching tracks abruptly. "You can imagine how excited your father is about that."

"Wes has the grades," I pointed out defensively. I hadn't realized he was even interested in movies, much less making them. "Why dad

wouldn't

be excited is beyond me."

"Well, be that as it may," she said, shutting me down, "he's been invited to do an interview and they have an open house next weekend. He's determined to go."

"He should!"

"I'm glad to hear you feel that way, because he's been saving up and has bought himself a bus ticket."

"Wow."

I was impressed. I love my little brother but never pictured him having the grit to stand up to our dad this way.

"I know," my mother agreed, but her voice sounded tired. I imagined there was a lot of friction and tension behind that weariness. "Sarah, I know you're busy and I'm sorry to drop this on you this way but I can't go to New York next weekend. Can you host your brother?"

"Yeah," I said instantly. "Yes, of course, I'd love to."

I started doing logistics in my mind, the love seat isn't even big enough for me, Wes would never fit...

'But maybe I can stay with Claire and he can stay here?' I thought, but it was like my mom already knew what I'm thinking.

"Promise me. I need you to pick him up and keep an eye on him," she said seriously. "It's only two nights, but it's important. He's not at all ready to be in the city by himself."

I wasn't sure I agreed, but I held my tongue.

"I mean it Sarah Beth, promise me!"

"I promise mom."

"Good morning!" I told Ben as he arrived.

He just looked at me over his sunglasses and sipped his coffee, cradling it like it was a lover.

"Someone had a nice weekend," Keith explained as if he was commiserating with Ben.

Keith had arrived early but I'd still beat him by a half hour. Definitely not my usual Monday morning MO. We were at his desk planning the week - discussing the piece on Afghanistan we'd been working on with the foreign bureau and the Page One editors, it had been approved for this coming weekend.

"Grab your socks," I told Ben with no small amount of glee, "because we are SO fucked."

Keith exploded with laughter; he loves when I'm crude. Ben just pushed his glasses back up and turned to his desk. We went back to what we were working on while Ben booted up his computer and girded himself for the week, but the truth is we were fucked. We'd been working on gathering the data and had a lot of imagery, but they wanted to put the piece above the fold on the front page Sunday with a double-page spread inside. Meaning it had to be filed by Thursday night.

Fucked.

Keith had done a bunch of preparatory sketches already, so we began building out models right away. I was lost in Illustrator minutiae when I heard Kip.

"Keep it down nerds, people are trying to work."

The three of us were working in silence. Keith and Ben were blinking in confusion, judging by Kip's grin, so was I.

"Don't be an asshole, Kippin."

"OK

Sarah Beth

..." Kip said, his eyes narrowed and face scrunched, his voice dripping with all the peevish smarm of the world's worst little sister. The mask broke and he flashed me his most charming smile and he asked in a crackin' mid-Atlantic accent, "How's my best gal? ...Heya fellas."

Keith and Ben both greeted Kip. He was one of those people everyone seemed to know and like. I'd been so pleased when he decided I was going to be his work wife.

"Are we still on for lunch today?" he asked me, dropping the Cary Grant impersonation. "Because I'm hangry... Or are you all balls deep in..." he waved his hands in the air like he was conjuring smoke, "nerd stuff?"

"Kip!" I said as I looked over to Keith doubtfully. "Are we too balls deep in nerd stuff?"

Keith laughed but shrugged and waved me off.

"Let's do it," I said, reaching for my little trench coat.

"Bring us back something!" Ben howled behind me.

I was halfway out the door.

"Fine, text me what you want," I called back.

"Get us whatever Kip's having!" Ben yelled after us.

Kip took me by the arm looking pleased with himself.

Kip was tall, fit, and handsome in a generic way. He favored a self consciously 70's hairstyle that made him look for all the world like a life-size Ken doll. I'd told him that once.

"An anatomically correct Ken doll," he'd informed me, with a prissy, "I'll thank you very much."

He was ready with that line way too quick. I got the sense that not only was I not the first person to make the observation but that he liked the association and leaned into it.

"I've missed you," he told me, "you've been so quiet, you're not mad about the bet you lost."

"You lost," I corrected, but moved on. "You look tan and rested."

"Yes well, speaking of deep throating, have I got some PGA stories for you," he said with a smirk. "Don't mess with Texas, if you know what I mean."

"No one was speaking of deep throating, Kip."

"You're just bitter because nerds don't... make graphs? ...in Texas."

"Yeah, that's what's happening right now. I'm jelly, I don't get to go to

Dallas.

"

"See when you put it like that, it doesn't sound sexy..."

Kip and I picked up lunch at Sweetgreens. And sat outside in a pocket plaza.

"What are you doing Saturday?" Kip asked. "I've got to cover the Islanders/Sabres game," he told me in an exhausted voice. "I honestly couldn't think of a worse game to go to, but it's a job... and the tickets are free."

"Watch out folks... the Masshole cometh..."

"Not that I won't enjoy watching your beloved Sabres lose to the Islanders..."

"...and there it is."

"...But honestly, Disney on Ice could beat the Sabres."

"Last season we only went south when Eichel did."

"Pffft, he was hardly the only problem," Kip said, rolling his eyes. "Let's face it, the Sabers are The Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight. You haven't even won a Stanley Cup-"

"Seventy-five was close!"

"It was not! And before you say it, ninety-nine was even worse!"

"Michael Peca-"

"Lost to Dallas! Stop! God really just

stop

already, you're embarrassing yourself. Seriously, when's the last time you even got to the playoffs? You would have been in diapers."

I thought about watching those playoffs with my dad, how excited he'd been, how devastated he'd been when they lost to Dallas. It was a year or two after his stroke. He had changed so much, become so serious, so angry about EVERYTHING. He and mom had become obsessed with God and the church. It was all they talked about. But he still watched hockey. It was the only time he still laughed or even smiled. Wes and Kelly were still too young, he didn't even want them in the room. Mom didn't want me watching the games either, but I was old enough to keep quiet and still, so he let me. He liked having me there. It was the most fun we had together. The only fun.

"I was 10."

Danny had hated that I knew more about hockey than he did. I learned quickly to tamp down my impulse to correct him. To hold still and be quiet when he watched hockey with dad. And after church when they would talk hockey I'd just listen and watch. I lost that last good part of Dad to Danny.

"Anyway, Sarah, you didn't answer, are you in?"

"Sorry Kip, my little brother is in town. He's got an interview at NYU and we're taking him out for dinner."

"We?"

"Umm, yes my friend Claire,?" I stammered. Kip's question had caught me entirely flat footed. I'd answered assuming Claire would be with me - no idea why - I haven't even asked her.

'Would Claire even want to meet Wes?' I wondered. '

Should

I even be introducing my little brother to Claire?'

Kip is giving me a funny look and I can feel my face getting hot. Why did I tell him that? It suddenly seemed...

strange

for Claire and me to be taking out my brother, so I quickly added, "...and Kwasi and Darci, and me."

"Hmph, bummer," said nonchalantly, picking at his salad, but then looked up and asked, "Soooo, who's Claire? Is she Brown Mafia too?"

Leave it to Kip to hone right in on what makes me squirm. He misses

nothing.

"No, she's a new friend?" I felt my cheeks flush. "She's a curator in Chelsea."

"Wow, fancy. How did you meet her?"

"I spilled wine on her shirt," I said, taking a sip of my soda.

"And then she ate your pussy," he said blandly.

"KIP!" I yelled, spitting my drink. I had been excited to impress Kip, but also that I had a fun 'meet-cute' story to share and had prepared to tell him about her spilling coffee on me- now I was just staring at Kip, jaw dropped. How did he fucking

know?!?

"What?" he asked innocently, wiping his tie. "That's the intro to just about every lesbian porno ever made - not that I've ever seen one."

I panicked, I knew my face couldn't hide the anxiety caused by his jab. I reached for 'shocked Catholic' girl.

"Oh my gosh, Kippin!"

"Let me guess, you wiped her chest to 'dry' it and the next day you picked up the U-Haul."

"It's nothing like that perve!"

"God Sarah, you're no fun!"

"I am tons of fun, Kip... but what's the U-Haul for?"

"I love you, Sarah..."

"On that note, we are out of time. I've gotta get the boys their lunch. Nerds get mean when they're hungry, so I gotta hustle."

Ben and I worked late Monday night, even though Keith tried to chase us out.

"This is going to be a long week!" he told us. "You need to save your energy."

But he wasn't leaving either, so we all stayed. I had been texting nonsense with Claire all day but like her kiss goodbye, just the sorts of things that pass between girlfriends, nothing more. Now though, she wanted to know about my plans for the week. So I snuck off to the ladies' room, locked myself in the stall all the way at the end, and wrote her back.

This week is already destroyed. We have a Thursday deadline that is crazy and then my little brother comes Friday for the weekend.

Wes? How old is he? Is your mom coming? Where will they stay?

Wes turned 18 in April, and is a head taller than me - but he's coming alone and my mom is FREAKED. She made me promise to watch him the entire time - so he's staying with me, but I can't put him on the love seat.

Will you share a bed?

I imagined waking up with my brother's little erection stabbing me in the leg and shuddered.

I think that would be super strange? I was going to ask if I could stay with you and he could have my place, but my mom would lose her shit if I left him alone. I'm going to buy an air mattress.

Where would you put it? There's no room. Both of you can stay with me! We'll share the bed and give him the sofa.

My breath caught and I felt myself flush. Claire was right, there's really no room for a mattress at my place. But just the idea of sharing Claire's bed with my brother right next to us - not even in the next room, because there is no wall or door. I knew I was being silly but all I could picture was Claire swearing in French while I ate her pussy, my brother watching on. I felt weak, almost nauseous. I shook my head and took a deep breath.

Are you sure? I don't want to impose.

Don't be silly. We'll take him out to dinner, maybe a show? It will be great fun!

He'd LOVE that! Seriously, your place is going to blow his mind - my place, not so much.

He'll love your place! But it's decided, sleepover at Claire's this weekend!

You're the best, how am I going to ever repay you for this?!?!

Send me a selfie.

I'm not sure what I expected or hoped for, a double entendre for sure, but not a request for a selfie. After Claire's silence Sunday afternoon and evening, I had been relieved when she replied to my texts earlier, and happy to have had a back and forth with her throughout the day, even if it was just frivolous nonsense. This didn't feel... frivolous.

I opened my camera and reversed it so I could see myself. As I studied myself - tired, hair pulled back and dowdy work blouse - I couldn't help remembering Claire's selfie at the Modern, her see-through blouse.

I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it open until my cleavage was in clear view. I thought about leaving the stall to do my makeup but imagined what Keith and Ben would think if I came back from a break all made up. Instead, I focused the phone on my lips and breasts. I thought of her calling for my mouth, and wet my tongue as I licked my lips until they shined with saliva. Lips pursed, I took the photo and after a moment of trepidation, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, hit send.

I had never taken a picture like this of myself, much less sent one. Not in all the years of being long-distance with Danny; never once. Always, my mother's warnings that "the internet never forgets" would stop me.

'I already trust Claire more than I ever trusted Danny,' I realized.

My phone pinged loudly as a text from Claire appeared.

Young Sarah is feeling frisky.

A moment later I received a picture from Claire. In the foreground, curled up on her bed, were her bare legs and ass. In the background I could see her reflection in the dark windows; Claire naked on her bed, holding her phone up over her head in both hands.

Fingers shaking, I untucked and finished unbuttoning my blouse. I paused for a moment, suddenly unsure if I was alone. I bent over until I could see under the stalls that there was no one in the bathroom with me. I stood up and unzipped my skirt, carefully stepping out of it.

I hung my skirt on the back of the door and taking off my blouse hung it there as well. Spreading my feet wide I held my phone up near my chin so I could just barely see the screen, but the camera could see my whole body. I was happy that I'd chosen a pretty set of lingerie to wear, pale cream with baby blue detailing. I took a shuddering breath and took the picture, without even looking I pressed send.

Very pretty, I love that set! Are those Dior?!

I felt a little surge of joy. I'd found the vintage Dior heels on The RealReal. I shouldn't have worn them to work, but they'd arrived the night before and I couldn't resist.

They are! Do you like them?

I sent her a couple more pics of the shoes.

They're darling, I love the ribbon fabric - leave them on!

I stared at her text; absorbed her command. I couldn't help but remember all of my mother's warnings that I'd end up on porn sites.

"It would kill your father!" I thought about his perpetually furious eyes. His drooling lip.

I reached behind me and unclasped my bra and hung it over my other clothes. Pulling my panties down to my knees I spread my feet and pointed my toes inwards. I held the phone high above my head and sticking out my lip, did my best baby doll pout for Claire. I took three or four pictures and chose the best one to send, giggling at the silliness of it, but also giddy with fear. I pressed send.

Ooh la la! She looks like she needs a spanking. Show me her ass.

This was a little more difficult to pull off as I couldn't really see what I was doing as I did it, but again, I took a bunch and picked the best one. Pressing send wasn't so hard this time. I was having fun.

I am going to make that ass glow red.

I was staring at this threat in alarm and wondering if she meant it when the phone rang. I almost dropped it.

"Put your fingers in your mouth."

Her voice is husky. Without a moment of hesitation or thought I do as she says, wetting my fingers and sucking them so she can hear.

"I love the sound of my Young Sarah's mouth," she husks in my ear. Her voice sounds constricted and shallow, like she's fighting to control herself, like she's touching herself. "Wet your pussy with your fingers. Imagine they're mine. I want you to touch yourself the way you like me touching you. Push your fingers into your pussy the way I would."

"I don't kn-"

"Hush, do as I say."

I huff my protest but I'm already doing as I'm told. Soon my huffs become rhythmic.

"Is my Young Sarah pushing her fingers into her pussy, rubbing circles around her clit?"

"Yes," I gasp.

"I can hear it in your breathing," she tells me, her own voice rising. "I want you to cum for me Sarah, can you do that?"

"I want to," I tell her. "But I-"

Just then the door bangs and I hear someone come in.

"...Jesus Christ, Jen, I'm here, aren't I? It's not like you're here because

you

want to be, we're on fucking deadline."

My breath catches and I hear Claire go quiet. It's fucking Kathy from Style.

"I'm just saying, this isn't our fault." It's Jen, Kathy's boss, she sounds weirdly apologetic. She's usually such a badass.