Kim and Andrea had been dating for almost six weeks. About half of those days Kim woke up and thought of herself as the luckiest girl in the world. The other half, she woke and waited for the shoe to drop. After all, she knew she was not anywhere near Andrea's league, and assumed it was just a matter of time before Andrea came to her senses.
When she thought this, it was not intended as a knock on herself. Kim was shy and disinclined to show off, but she wasn't totally lacking in confidence. She was a social work major, and she was good at it because she put the needs of others first, but was also smart enough to know how to think through people's situations rationally rather than just respond from her heart. She'd had a few girlfriends in the past, and they had always told her the same thing: "They don't come any sweeter or smarter thank you, Kimmie." Even so, social work was hardly a track to success. It was not about ambition or achievement. It was honorable and endearing, but not particularly attractive.
Nor did Kim have stunning beauty to compensate. She was pretty in a plain, ordinary way. About five-ten, she was thin with an unremarkable but not unappealing figure. Her complexion was fair and clean, but there was nothing striking about her lips or her brown eyes. Her hair was soft and long, her loose curls worn in a half-pony tail almost every day -- she thought it was a boring style for hair that was a dull, uninspiring dark brown. She was on the pretty side, but didn't stand out in a room. She counted on a cute, dimpled smile to work all her magic.
Andrea was a whole other kind of girl. Andrea was a dual major in business and international studies. She was smart enough to do complex statistics in her head and confident enough to do so off-the-cuff in front of large groups of people. Her life plan? To convert a highly successful pair of side-project business into well-endowed not-for-profit agencies helping with agricultural implementations in rural, arid locations overseas. She had ambition, talent, and the sort of intentions that no one could fault.
On top of all that, Andrea was one in a million sexy. She was no taller than 5'4", but it was hard to tell for sure because she usually wore spike heels that were three inches high and higher. She was tan with eyes the color of a clear mountain lake and a playful head of light blonde hair that she cut at the level of her chin. Her waist was thinner than Kim's, but her breasts were larger. Her hips were perfectly round, making her backside a perfect half-sphere with cheeks that were so firmly muscles that the cleft between them was invariably obvious.
Kim was pretty sure why Andrea was with her. Andrea had never dated a girl before. Kim was a nice enough, pretty enough, utterly non-threatening starter-girlfriend for a smoking hot bi chick who could, in the end, win over absolutely anyone she cared to.
At the beginning of their sixth week together, Kim had confessed her love to Andrea. Andrea had not hesitated about responding in kind. Kim was trying her hardest to just feel lucky and blessed, to feel extra special for having such an amazing girlfriend, but as the days went on she found herself more and more feeling frustrated and confused. By the end of the sixth week, she had managed to convince herself that Andrea was just being polite and was probably on the verge of breaking up for a better girl.
She confessed the fears to Bethany, her roommate, and Bethany wasn't buying it. "Kim, yes, Andrea's drop dead gorgeous. I get that. I may be straight, but I get that she's hot. But think about this: she could literally take any guy on campus that she wanted to bed. Any guy. But she's tired of that scene. Maybe she's exploring the queer lifestyle because she wants to be less superficial. She wants to be loved for more than her hotness, and she wants to look beneath rock hard muscles and big penises to love someone for who they are inside. Maybe, Kim, she doesn't care that you're not super hot because she sees your inside."
"Bethany," Kim said stiffly. "Bethany, believe it or not, being told that you agree that I'm not hot and not in her league . . . Doesn't really help."
"But I said --"
"I know what you said. But my body and my face are part of me. I don't want the girl I love to have to look past them. I want her to look at them. Love me, love my body, that's the deal."
"Maybe you're asking too much of any one person."
"Okay, Bethany, you can just stop helping now."
It was probably a week after that, that Kim decided to broach the subject with Andrea. They were sitting on a bench, holding hands and kissing softly. They hadn't gone any farther than that. Kim had only ever gone a little farther than that with any girl. Andrea never had. Their kisses were invariably magical. They tasted sweet and were unusually sensual. Kim's lips were soft and her tong very wet and slippery. Andrea's lips were firmer, her tongue strong as a dart. When they combined it was an explosion of opposites.
When they took a break from the mouth work, Andrea leaned on the taller girl's shoulder and slipped an arm around behind her waist. Kim leaned her cheek against the top the blonde's head.
"When we kiss it's so easy for me to believe that you love me," she said.
"I do."
"You're so much better than I am," Kim lamented. "In every way. I know you're just trying things out with me. Seeing if you can hack this two-girl stuff."
Andrea sat up and spun her. "What did you just say?"
Kim repeated it, word for word, but could not bring herself to meet the other girl's eyes.
"If," Andrea said icily, "I were better than you in every way, I would definitely not be using you like some fucking princess playing dyke for a day."
No response was forthcoming from Kim. She winced, knowing that what Andrea said was true. She closed her eyes and pulled in on herself. She had been doing a brutal disservice to someone she said she loved.
Andrea wasn't content with what she had already said. "What kind of shallow, whoring bitch do you think I am? You think you're, what, my practice pussy?"
Kim still could say nothing. Her eyes shut even more tightly. She pulled even further in on herself.
"I could feel pretty justified about breaking up with you right fucking now," Andrea growled. "But," she went on, her voice softening, even though her face did not, "I love you way too much to do that. Kimmie, I shouldn't have to prove my love to you, but --"
"I'm sorry," Kim croaked, still not opening her eyes.
"But," Andrea said again, more firmly, "I'm going to. If you choose to doubt me, if you don't want to trust me ... those things are up to you. But if I haven't shown you enough that I truly love you, then that's on me. So I'm going to prove it."
"Andrea . . . "
"I mean it. In three days, it's your veggieversary. Fifteen years without eating meat. It's your biggest holiday. I'm in charge of the celebration. Got it?"
Kim blushed with both appreciation and shame. Most of her friends who were not vegetarians made fun of her celebrating her veggieversary. One of her old girlfriends had supported it, but not understood just how important it was to her. It was more than her birthday, more than her Christmas, because it celebrated a choice she herself had made. It was, to Kim, a celebration of her human will. And Andrea understood that. Which touched Kim's heart, and made her embarrassed about how she'd been thinking.
Andrea leaned in and pressed her lips to her girlfriend's forehead. "I love you, Kimmie."
"I love you too, Andrea, and I'm so --"
"It's done," Andrea interjected, kissing her mouth. "No more apologies."
The emotion of the moment really heated up the kiss and soon they were going at it quite heavily, right there on the bench. Their lips were a wet mess of passion. Eyes were wide open. Every time they moved apart to catch their breath, strings of saliva stretched between their mouths.
Soon they were moaning into the kiss, as it grew heavier and more obscene. At one point Andrea sucked Kim's tongue so far into her throat that she actually choked.
They were breathing rough. Their faces were turning red.
And then Kim's hand moved from Andrea's side to cup the swelling side of her breast. It was the first such contact, even through clothing, and both girls moaned. Kim took it as encouragement and began massaging her girlfriend's breast, feeling the nipple harden even through bra and top. Andrea returned the favor with even more fervor, palming the front of her lover's breast and playing with it roughly.
"Oh, Kimmie," she gasped. She'd never touched another girl's breast. She hadn't known quite what to expect.
"Andrea," Kim panted, "I won't apologize again, but I want you to know that I do trust you."
"I'm glad," the blonde purred, squeezing the brunette's breast so hard she almost snapped the bra.
"And if you wanted to . . . go all the way tonight . . . I wouldn't stop you."
Andrea removed her hand from Kim's breast. Then, blue eyes staring into brown eyes with intensity and focus, she tucked that hand between Kim's legs, feeling her warmth through her blue jeans. She gave it a little grope and squeeze. She hummed with delight. That was another first for her. But then she winked and smiled. "I told you I was in charge of celebrating your veggieversary, didn't I?"
Kim blushed again, but her face was transformed by her dimpled smile. "Yes."
"You're going to love your present."
