Jeff 3

I'm not an assuming girl. Though I dream of fairytale lands and whimsical times, I find visiting them in my head easier than recreating my world to match my imaginations. Throwing on a big t-shirt and reading a smutty fantasy novel is easier than wearing flirty dresses and knee high stockings. I can pretend to be someone beautiful instead of trying in vain to make myself beautiful. I console myself by wearing lacy things beneath the t-shirt--an obnoxious metaphor, I tell myself.

Sometimes, though, I think I'd like to be that kind of girl. One of my neighbors--she's that kind of girl. I wonder often what it would be like to be her. Tall and goddess-like, perfectly curled onyx hair glinting in the sunlight, brown skin warm and soft to the touch. She has these terrifyingly dark eyes and a bit of a smirk on her mouth that either betray her entire aesthetic, or highlight it. I'm not sure which yet. Regardless, her expressions are often at odds with the yards of white gauze, sage tulle, and dandelion silk she normally wears.

I see the men and women staring at her as she walks by them, but no one ever dares approach. I've never seen anyone go in or out of her apartment, and I admit I watch it often enough. Sometimes, I think she watches me too, though I can't fathom why. When she comes home from work, I'm often sitting out on my porch, drinking a far too complicated latte and reading. Sometimes my snake joins me and she asks about him, but more often than not, she smiles sweetly and disappears into her apartment.

I glance down at the reptile in question and give him a pat on his tiny black head. I'm not sure if my fixation on this girl is obsession, interest, or simple curiosity, but I do know that I want to know everything about her. And it seems as though the more I bring Jeff (the snake) outside, the more I learn.

"Hello sweet boy."

I look up to see my object of interest, Aviva, leaning over my small fence, her slender fingers reaching for Jeff. I smile and offer her the snake. "Jeff says hello."

Aviva beams and lets him wrap around her wrist. Even snakes like her. "The only boy I want to see after a long day of work."

I laugh. "I tell him that all the time."

"I really need to look into adopting one of his friends," she says, attempting half-heartedly to disentangle herself. "Or a family member."

"Or him. He seems to really like you."

"I know." She laughs. "I might have to take him home tonight, he doesn't seem to want to let go."

Jeff seems as magnetized to Aviva as I do. Despite multiple attempts from both of us, he refuses to unwrap from her arm. I stand, suddenly and awkwardly aware that I'm not wearing pants, and the only thing covering my legs was a blanket. Aviva's eyes dart down and back up. It's quick enough that I think I'm imagining things, and I grab the blanket back, blood rising to my cheeks. "You can come inside," I say uncomfortably. "I know what will get him to let go."

I run into the apartment and yank some athletic shorts on, cursing under my breath before practically flinging the door open and inviting Aviva into my home.

"It smells amazing in here," she remarks as we head toward Jeff's habitat. "Like wisteria and old books."

"Candles," I answer. "And old books."

Jeff takes only a little coaxing once his sun lamp is nearby, and within a few seconds, Aviva is peering down at him as he slithers under a rock. The azure chiffon of her dress tightens over her back, her spine delicately bent. "You're really cool, you know," she says without taking her eyes off Jeff. "Owning a snake, always reading. Sometimes I see you roller skate. All I do is work and then fall asleep on my couch."

"You're welcome to borrow my books any time you want."

"I don't really have time to read."

"Sometimes carrying one is comforting."

Aviva stands at that, brows nudging down.

"I mean," I stammer, "sometimes it's like having old friends with you. Or not. That's weird. Sorry, sometimes I just--"

"It's not weird," she interrupts. "Show me your library, I might actually borrow one."

I lead her on wobbly legs to the second bedroom, which I've built up to serve as both a library and an office. Floor to ceiling walnut bookshelves line two walls of the room, each shelf stuffed with books. Six or seven piles of books are scattered on the floor, waiting for me to buy them a home. I've been too lazy thus far, to bother setting up more shelves, but now I'm a little embarrassed. I pull one of my books off the nearest shelf and thumb through it. "This one is really good. The culture is a little unfamiliar, but the author makes it really easy to--"

"This one is far more interesting."

I look up to find her nose buried in a book called The Governor's Daughter and nearly drop the one I'm holding. "Oh my god. Those are just--I get those as gifts from my friends, as pranks, and I--"

"Don't be sorry at all. These are exactly like the kinds of books I read."

"...Really?"

"Oh yeah," she says with a tinge of eagerness to her voice. "I've actually read this one. I like to pretend I'm the councilman's son, ravishing Jeanette beneath the courthouse every afternoon."

I laugh. "The councilman's son?"

She nods without looking up. "Girls are far better to fuck than boys."

The book in my hands becomes interesting again. I wasn't a virgin, and I certainly enjoyed sex with the men I've dated. But I've never even wondered what it was like to be with a girl. Truthfully, the thought just never occurred to me. But Aviva... lonely Aviva who works and sleeps all day every day, who never has any visitors... She speaks as though she fucks girls all the time. I bite my tongue and peek up at her. Of course she fucks all the time. Who wouldn't want to fuck her?

Everything she does is intoxicating. The way the outer curve of her breast presses into her inner arm. The way her skirt grazes her hips and brushes the middle of her calves. The way her sleeve has fallen at just the right angle, so her shoulder catches the afternoon sun--

"Are you okay?"

I blink, realizing belatedly that I was staring.

Before I can answer, she snaps the book shut. "Have you ever fucked a girl?"

I almost laugh. "Uh... no. I've never uh, had the, um--"

"Have you ever wanted to?"

"I don't--"

"You could sleep with whoever you want, you know." She reaches out and touches the end of my ponytail. "What with your pretty hair, and that body--"

I step back, my face on fire.

She looks a little disappointed and drops her hand. "Pity."

Before I can fully process the thoughts in my head, she turns and picks her purse back off the ground, chirping something about getting home and starting dinner. My stupid mouth is open before I even realize it. "Has a girl ever fucked you?"

Aviva looks over her shoulder, that devilish smirk suddenly blinding. "No one fucks me. I fuck them."

My hand is gripping the bookshelf, my knuckles white. "I don't--how--"

"The first step is the hardest." She puts her purse down gently and moves toward me. "The first kiss. After that, you'll barely have time to think because it feels so good."

Her nose is inches away from mine, her breath fanning over my lips and mingling with mine. "Ok," I say, so faint it's barely more than a thought in my head.

The first kiss is all confusion. Her lips are soft, her mouth wide. Her hands are gripping my hips very gently, and the world comes to a stop as I realize exactly what's happening. This girl is in my house, and her lips are on my lips, and her hands are on my body, and there's a line of fire going from the top of my head, down my spine, into my toes. I almost lose my balance, but she drags me closer, one hand wrapping in my ponytail and tipping my head backward. Our lips disconnect, and I'm looking at the ceiling as she traces kisses down my neck.

"Oh my god," I manage to breathe.

Aviva smiles against my collarbone. "Oh my god," she repeats. "Every time you're sitting out on your little deck, I wonder what it would be like to stick my head under your blanket. I always want to know what panties you're wearing, what that goddamn t-shirt is hiding."

She grabs the t-shirt in question and yanks it over my head, her eyes widening as I fight the urge to cross my arms. "Holy shit," she breathes. "Holy Jesus, your body--"

My breasts are in her hands as she stares, squeezing gently. Her thumbs graze my nipples, peaked in the cold, and she bites her lower lip.

"Holy god," she moans before dipping her head.

I nearly gasp as the tip of her tongue prods at my nipple, as she drags it up and down. Ever so gently, she nibbles it and catches it in her teeth, pulling until I'm clawing at her shoulders. She traces her mouth down until the under part of my breast is in her mouth and she's sucking, sucking and gripping my other breast with a free hand.

Aviva finally lets go, her eyes rising to meet mine. "Now you'll remember our little secret until that bruise is healed."

I swallow.

"Show me your bedroom. I intend to leave far more than one bruise."

I'm shaking as I lead her wordlessly to my bedroom. The blankets are haphazardly strewn everywhere and I'm stammering an apology as she simply rips them off and drops them on the floor.

She turns to me. "Shorts off. Now."

I nearly fall in my haste to take my shorts off.

"I knew it." Aviva grins.

I like the way materials feel against my skin, so I shave everything as often as possible. And the best feeling on my skin is silk. A lavender silk thong whispers against my hips, only small bits of lace giving it any variation.

Aviva sits me down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me. "I need to see," she says hoarsely. "I need to touch you."

She wiggles her fingers between my knees and spreads them, her eyes greedily drinking in whatever it is she sees.

What she sees is my heart pounding in my chest and the echo of it beneath my thong. She sees slick thighs glinting in the light. She sees where the silk has darkened.

"You've soaked through your thong completely, you naughty girl."

My elbows nearly give out.

All I can do is stare as she takes the knuckle of her middle finger and slowly drags it up my slit, just brushing my clit, my thong the only thing separating her from my skin. She stares at me and licks her knuckle.

"I can't today," she whispers.

I freeze, the tingle of embarrassment beginning to creep up my spine. "What?"

"I can't take my time with you today. I need to have you. Now. I need to make you cum, I have no patience for teasing. You've been teasing me for six fucking months and now... now you're finally mine."

I yelp as she grabs my thong and yanks it down, taking a moment to bury her nose in it before tossing it behind her. Aviva shoves me back on the bed and lifts my legs over her shoulders, dipping her head between my knees. My back arches at the first swipe of her tongue and it's--it's--

Ungodly.

Unholy.

A feeling like I've never known before.

She knows what she's doing. Her tongue slips in and out of me, prodding just enough before dragging back up and circling my clit. She licks exactly where it will make me wetter, where it will build me and build me but not allow me to release. A finger somehow finds itself inside of me, hooked at the perfect angle.

I can feel a wet spot spreading beneath me, I can hear her moaning, I can hear my wetness against her tongue and it's too much. It's so much. I grab the pillow and clamp it over my face, the tip of her tongue massaging at just the right spot. She yanks the pillow away from me and keeps going, her eyes lifting to find mine. She beams and I think the world is going to unravel, and then suddenly everything stills.

The world is crystal clear and I'm floating. I can't breathe, and I'm drowning. I'm drowning as wave after wave of pleasure hits me. As black begins to creep into my vision, as I belatedly realize I'm moaning her name so loud I'd normally be embarrassed.

As I begin to float down, I'm half aware that Aviva is pushing me down on the bed again, her legs straddling me. Her clit brushes mine, her dress still on, and I realize with a groan that she isn't wearing anything beneath those floaty dresses.

"Fuck," she groans. "Fuck me, oh my god, fuck."

Aviva starts grinding in earnest and I don't know where she ends and I begin. I don't know who is more responsible for the dripping down our legs, for the whining in the air, for the beautiful anguish tensing every muscle in my body. It doesn't take long before my vision is unfocused again, and this time, I hear her moaning turn into little whimpers.

"Fuck," she whimpers, gripping my breasts as though they keep her alive. "Fuck."

All I can say is "Aviva."

We're both over the edge, our bodies shaking as we climax together. She grabs my face and yanks me up to kiss me, her hips still moving as we ride down. I manage to bring my arms up around her, and as the last few waves disperse through our bodies, we collapse on the mattress, panting.

Neither of us speaks for a few moments. All I can do is stare at my ceiling, my head oddly empty for once. When the silence is broken, it's Aviva.

"Jeff is an excellent wingman."