Maybe We're More

Friday night at the club, drinking and dancing like we were still in college. It felt childish, but two of our old gang were visiting town, so we all decided to relive old times. Well, not that old—we had all graduated only four years before, but that seemed like decades ago. It was wild having the six of us together again, if only for one night.

My roommate Jenny and I had a blast, goofing around with the guys, dancing with them or with each other. I dance like someone being attacked by zombie cockroaches, but Jenny moved her tall slender body with carefree, effortless grace—slinky then aggressive, always playful, her eyes alive in the sweeping lights.

When we sat, Owen, our social butterfly and the heart of our gang, surprised us by offering us THC gummies.

"C'mon, Brooke," he said as I stared at the multi-colored shapes. "You two said you always wanted to try it. These are pretty mild."

Jenny dared me, so I ate one. For the longest time nothing happened. We danced, drank and chatted with our friends until Jenny and I got the giggles and couldn't keep the grins off our faces. The effect was different from alcohol, but freeing.

From the sidelines I watched Jenny dance with Owen—her arms in the air, swaying and writhing with easy grace. She envied me for my curves, but I wished I could be as slim as her.

I danced with the guys again, feeling loose and happy. A young guy watching from the crowd caught my eye, his biceps and pecs deliciously filling out a tailor fit shirt. Too bad he looked so boyish. Scanning the rest of the crowd through the buzzing sensation of the gummies, I realized just how young everyone was. We were 26 and already too old for the club scene.

Jenny and I got the munchies, just like Owen said we would. The club didn't serve food past seven and by then we were both a little worn out, so we said our goodbyes and final nice-to-see-you's. As we fetched our coats, Owen gave us another gummie "for the road".

~~~~

We headed down the frozen street to the pizza takeout for a slice, sitting on the stools by the window watching clumps of partiers hurrying along the icy sidewalks.

"No one in our gang has changed a bit," I said to Jenny. "Everyone seems to be doing well in the real world, though."

"It was great to see Craig still isn't drinking. Looks like your intervention took hold."

"I'm so glad," I said. "He was drinking himself to death. I had to do something. I never would've had the guts to confront him if you and Owen hadn't backed me up."

Jenny laughed. "Yeah. Craig was furious! I really think he would've hit you that night if Owen wasn't there to hold him back."

"He apologized," I said. "And thanked us."

"Yeah... one year later."

Pizza finished, we decided to walk home. It was only a 30-minute walk—not worth taking a taxi we couldn't afford anyway. The bustling bar district gave way to our sleepy residential area as we walked, laughing and critiquing some of the guys who had been at the club.

"Owen is still such a sweetie," I said.

"He is," Jenny said. "If he was straight, I'd marry him."

"You would not!"

"Okay... then we'd have a long sordid affair filled with tormented lust and betrayals that would end in disaster for us both."

"You're such a romantic," I said and laughed.

After a moment, Jenny said, "I saw you talking to Wyatt."

"Oh, I was just catching up and being polite."

"That was a long conversation for just catching up. You're not going to start seeing him again, are you?"

I shook my head. "I made that mistake twice. Not happening again. Why? Do you want him?"

Jenny swatted my arm. "As if! He's

your

weird little perversion."

"He's good in bed," I said in a tantalizing tone.

"I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, with that nuclear-powered vibrator of yours. The whole apartment shakes when you use that thing."

Jenny gasped and gave me a playful shove then grabbed me to keep me from falling. We continued walking arm-in-arm along the sidewalk, talking and laughing.

A pickup truck roared by and swerved into a pothole at the edge of the road. We shrieked as a massive wave of dirty slush soaked us.

"Lezzy dykes!" yelled the grease bag leaning out the passenger window. He threw an empty beer can at us as the truck zoomed away.

"You fucking bastards!" Jenny yelled after them, dripping. She turned to me. "Oh my god, Brooke! It's in your hair and everything." She wiped my face with the cuff of her jacket. I tried cleaning her too, but our coats and pants were soaked with filthy freezing water.

By the time we reached our apartment building, Jenny's teeth were chattering.

"S-so a-are y-yours," she said as we hurried up the stairs.

Inside, we stripped to our underwear, leaving our sodden jackets and clothes on the tile floor of the entranceway to deal with later.

"You s-shower first," I said, pushing poor Jenny toward the bathroom.

"T-t-together," she said. "You're freezing too."

I hesitated. Being roommates, we had seen each other naked plenty of times, but showering together seemed kind of... gay. She was right though—the apartment's hot water ran out quickly.

We traded places under the warm spray every few moments until Jenny said, "This is stupid" and pulled me against her so we could warm up at the same time. We hugged all the time—Jenny was

such

a hugger—but that was the first time we had ever embraced skin-to-skin. Her smooth body felt warmer than the water flowing over us.

"There," she said. "Now we're getting warm." She combed the grit and filth from my long hair with her fingers then used some shampoo. I clung as her touch sent electric shivers through me.

A familiar warmth began blooming low in my belly. What the hell? I was getting turned on? It must have been as Owen had warned us—for a lot of people, weed made them horny. Seeing that muscle guy at the club sure did. I wanted to drag him to some dark corner and let him fuck me against the wall. Imagining things like that was fun, though of course I'd never done anything so wild.

"I think you want to go back to the club," Jenny said with a laugh, bringing me back to the present.

"Huh? Oh, shit. Sorry." In my stoned moment of reverie, I had been holding Jenny by the waist and slowly rubbing against her.

Jenny offered up one of her cute half smiles as I felt myself turning red. She took a step back and bent forward toward me.

"Help get the crap out of my hair? Yours is clean now."

Her short hair made it easy to work the grit out. Bent over, she held me by my waist and rested her head at the top of one of my boobs while I worked in some shampoo. Her holding me and the sight down her back to the modest swell of her hips and ass further fanned my arousal. I wanted to smooth my hands down her back. I wanted to caress the globes of her ass.

I loved her holding me as I worked. I loved taking care of her.

When I was done, Jenny straightened and we rinsed off a final time. Getting out, I realized how slick I had become between my legs. I dried off quickly pulled on my bathrobe, afraid Jenny might notice somehow.

"Are you okay, Brooke?" she said, running her towel over her slim frame.

I realized I was gawking. "Uh, yeah. I'm not shivering anymore. What about you?"

"I'm feeling great," she said and gave me an adorably dopey smile.

My heart fluttered and warmth spread further inside me. What was going on? Jenny was my best friend and roommate. Like anyone, I could appreciate a good-looking woman, but never had I been attracted to one the way I was attracted to Jenny at that moment. I wanted to pull her back into the shower and rub against her again.

She toweled her hair. "I'm so fucking angry at those douchebags," she said. "Wish we'd got their license." After hanging up her towel she donned her own bathrobe. She smacked her lips. "My mouth is so dry. Are you still high?"

"Even more than at the club," I said. "I think that last gummie was stronger than the others."

"Yeah, I think it was." Jenny shook her arms and worked her shoulders. "I feel all slinky and buzzy," she said. "And the munchies are back. You?"

"Oh yeah." We shared a look. "Make popcorn and watch a shitty romance?" I asked.

Jenny grinned and hugged me quickly. We changed into our sleepwear—fleece pajama bottoms and old t-shirts. We dumped our sodden jackets and clothes into the bathtub to deal with later. While Jenny made popcorn, I wrestled open the sofa bed in the living room and spread out the blanket we kept draped over the back. I searched for a terrible period romance movie to stream.

~~~~

We had spent countless nights propped up on that sofa bed making snide remarks at awful period romance movies, laughing ourselves sily. We had both grown up devoted to Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters, with dashes of Hardy, Eliot and du Maurier. Every big-budget movie with Keira Knightley in a gown or Colin Firth in a waistcoat we had seen hundreds of times and discussed to death. Finding low-budget historical romance movies to snark at was our weekend guilty pleasure.

Jenny stretched out beside me on the bed with the popcorn and handed me a customary vodka cooler. She cracked hers open. We clinked and took a swig, pulled the blanket up and I started a Regency-era romance playing.

"Oh, this one's gonna be gooood," Jenny said. "There's an airplane contrail in the sky right in the title shot."

I laughed, then pointed out how the black barouche carriage being pulled along the cobblestone street had transformed into a white vis-à-vis by the time it arrived at the manor house. We groaned when a buxom lady alighted, revealing her polyester gown was closed in back by a zipper.

"Coffee cup!" Jenny exclaimed a few moments later.

"Where? Where?"

"Back it up about 15 seconds," she said. "Right... there!"

I paused the movie and yes, a paper coffee cup sat beside the leg of a spoon-back armchair.

"You're so good at seeing that stuff," I said and jammed a handful of popcorn in my mouth.

Jenny said, "And you're so good at finding these wonderfully shitty movies," filling her own mouth with popcorn.

As the movie progressed, it was hard to pay attention. The unfamiliar jazzy buzz from the gummie had faded, but my focus kept turning inward in a dazed dreaminess. Deep inside, my warm restless horniness simmered as the movie introduced the characters and established the plot.

The overwhelming number of viscounts, countesses and barons made it hard to follow. The entire cast were gorgeous: the male lead had chiseled features and impeccable sideburns; female lead had a lovely regal face and flowing chestnut locks. Jenny dubbed her Lady Chesticle because of her massive tits.

Half an hour into the movie, the male lead barged into her bedroom while she was brushing her hair getting ready for bed. They exchanged teasing banter before the man ripped open his high-collared shirt, revealing flawless pecs and abs.

"Oh my," I said. "Someone's been taking their creatine."

At that point in most of these movies, the heroine would turn away, calling the man a cad and a rake. Instead, the woman unbuttoned the front of her nightgown and let it fall.

So did my jaw. She had an hourglass figure—narrow waist, wide hips and those huge boobs. Her skin glowed satiny soft in the fake candlelight. Immediately, she stepped close to the man and unzipped his breaches, leaving him as naked as she was.

My snark about the zipper caught in my throat when the woman undid her hair, freeing her chestnut tresses and kneeling. She took the man into her mouth, bobbing and licking. He put his hand behind her head to guide her actions.

"Uh, Brooke?" Jenny said. "Are we watching a porno?"

I looked up the details on my phone, keeping one eye on the action.

"It's, uh, from Goose Waffle Studios... score of 2.1... a 'boundary-pushing intimate narrative inspired by Fellini and Truffaut' according to the description."

We looked at each other. "It's porn," we said together and laughed.

I said, "But it's art house porn, so it's okay."

The action escalated when a maid entered the room. After an exchange of overacted dialog, the woman was lying on the bed with the maid's face between her legs while the man fucked her from behind.

The costumes and acting were awful, yet the cinematography was superb—warmly lit scenes focusing on the actor's expressions with slow pans across the curves of their writhing bodies, all shot with a soft filter.

Jenny looked transfixed when I glanced at her, staring at the screen with a flush spreading across her cheeks. Her expression made the low heat simmering within me suddenly flare. I tore my eyes from her back to the sensuous scenes on the screen. The man had switched to fucking the other woman while the maid caressed and kissed them both. The scene was sensuous and tender, with none of the stupid jack hammering of hardcore pornos.

The gummie and alcohol seemed to triple the heat within me. Captivated by the on-screen threesome, I squirmed, my pussy aching for attention. Under the blanket, I sneaked a hand into my pajama bottoms to press against my mound, hoping it would ease the aching need. Gently, I massaged up and down with my hand, but that only heightened my agitation.

A breathy moan came from Jenny, almost inaudible over the cries and gasps from the movie. I looked over to see her gaze riveted, lips parted. Under the blanket, her hand moved slowly.

We had never been so bold. Lying beside each other, trying to hide we were touching ourselves, keeping our motions and breathing controlled.

As the sex scene progressed, I couldn't help circling two fingers around my opening then pressing them inside. I didn't dare touch my yearning clit other than press with the heel of my hand to calm, hoping to ease the ache.

I stole a glance at Jenny. Her gaze was fixed on the movie with her breathing rapid as her hand moved slowly between her legs. Once, I glanced at her and found her looking back. Embarrassed, we looked away.

"It's, uh, pretty hot," she said in a low tone.

"Yeah. There's nothing like this in

Pride and Prejudice.

"

"There's nothing like this even in

Madame Bovary

or

Tess.

"

On screen, the bedroom door banged open. We screamed. An older man, seemingly the woman's husband, charged in, dragged the younger man off the bed and began viciously beating and kicking him. The women screamed, trying to restrain him.

The sudden violence quickly dialed my horniness back to simmer. Jenny and I resumed wisecracking and pointing out less obvious flaws, chuckling and nudging each other.

A chase on horseback through the countryside followed, then came the inevitable dual at dawn. The flintlock pistols gleamed in the morning sun the way only plastic cap guns from a dollar-store pirate play set can.

The film ended with another lurid scene between the dashing hero and the lead actress beside a lake.

With flowery dialog stuffed with "shalts" and "whilsts" and "hithertofores" the pair professed their love while tearing each other's clothes away until they were naked and copulating on the ground. The camera lingered on his plunging ass and her bobbing tits.

When the credits rolled, I turned off the TV. The only light came from a lamp in the kitchen.

Jenny and I looked at each other.

"I didn't know it was going to be so graphic," I said.

She grinned. "It certainly got my motor running. And I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, Brooke. The dialog was so stupid!" She feigned an English accent. "I must confess, my dearest lady, that you possess an exquisite ability, nay unparalleled talent, for finding the most execrable movies in all of Christendom."

"Forsooth! You flatter me with your most charitable utterance," I said. "I am but your humble servant striving to fulfill my duty to king and country."

"Oh, that you have, my dearest Lady Puddingbosom. Pray, may I be so bold as to make manifest my depth of gratitude by bestowing upon thee a tender peck on the lips?"

I laughed, fanning my hand. "Viscount Lumbergroin! I am aghast! Such a bold proposal may be seen as an unforgivable impropriety. Yet I find myself drawn to the notion of a chaste kiss, be it only once, from one of your nobility and comely visage."

Jenny laughed and to my astonishment leaned forward and kissed me.

Her lips were soft and hot, tasting faintly of vodka cooler and popcorn salt. She lingered, plucking my lips with hers before pulling away.

Her steamy but bewildered look must have mirrored my own. Her eyes searched mine, excited and surprised and a little frightened.

"Brooke," she said in a whisper, " I—"

I don't know why, but I pulled us close and pressed my lips back to hers. Jenny gave a little "umm!" and parted her lips in welcome. She put her hand behind my head to hold me to her.

I had never kissed another woman—not on the lips, and never in that way. I had never once even thought about it. It should have felt wrong kissing her, but Jenny wasn't a woman. Jenny was... Jenny. My best friend. The person I always turned to and who always turned to me. The person I had shared every day with since we were roommates in our college dorm.

Jenny's kisses became insistent. She poked the tip of her tongue past my lips, like a plea. I answered by touching her with the tip of my own tongue. It was so intimate. I pulled her closer and parted my lips, exploring her mouth and sparring playfully as she explored mine.

She ran her hand over my back then down to the hem of my t-shirt then under, gliding up my bare skin. The warmth within me flared and I groaned.

Jenny broke our kiss, her eyes again searching, looking for my reaction. She was flushed, her lips parted. She pulled away further, her hand sliding from my back to my side. If Jenny took her hand out of my shirt I thought I would die, so I took it and moved it to my naked breast.

Jenny's eyes widened and she drew a breath then cupped me, massaging and feeling the weight before smoothing her hand up and across my hard nipple, sending jolts straight to my pussy.

I needed to make her feel as good as she was making me. I skimmed my hands under her shirt. She jumped a little and drew a breath when I brushed my hand over her compact tits. Figuring I had gone too far, I slid my hand away, but she caught it and moved it back.

"So nice," she sighed, leaning in, drawing us together for another kiss.

She was so soft and smooth, her tight little nipple straining against my palm. So incredibly sexy. We kissed, probing each other with our tongues as we caressed and explored each other's breasts. I loved the feel of her. I loved how she moaned and pressed against me while caressing and hefting my sensitive breasts, making me squirm each time she thumbed my nipples.

She urged my t-shirt up to expose both my boobs and I laid back to let her eyes roam over me, her expression one of wonder and delight. She bit her lip adorably, then helped me work my shirt off completely. Naked from the waist up, I tugged at the hem of her own shirt. Jenny pulled it off and tossed it away.

We drank in the sight of each other for a moment then hugged. Oh, her soft skin on mine, her naked breasts pressing against mine.

Jenny kissed my neck and nipped my earlobe while stroking and massaging my breast. I went all fluttery with delight. I explored her elegant neck and along her shoulder, grazing the skin with my lips, then planted light kisses and little nips, thumbing her nipples, making her gasp and make throaty happy sounds.

We kissed and caressed each other. Jenny's every touch left me longing for more and the need to feel her too.

She edged her fingertips past the elastic of my pajama bottoms and smoothed them back and forth across the sensitive skin below my navel. I yearned for her to go lower. Jenny continued drawing her fingertips over me with feathery touches as we kissed, reached further until she just grazed the top of my fuzz.