"Ugh," I groan impatiently. You're late. I've been waiting for you for just over two hours now. I hurried back to my room and have postponed my after-the-gym shower because you swore you'd be right over.
Now, two plus hours later and I'm still waiting on you. I sigh, tapping my foot on the cold tile floor of my empty room. I hate waiting on other people. I just want you to show up, take these stupid books, and pay me the twenty dollars we agreed upon. But more than anything, I want to shower. My body is covered in a layer of sweat and grime - the kind that can only be achieved from a good workout or a twelve hour shift in a kitchen in July. I feel too disgusting to even sit on my bed.
After two and a half hours of waiting, my obsessive need to be clean wins out. I pull out my phone and write a quick text to you, explaining that I need a shower and am highly annoyed that you neither showed nor mentioned anything about running late, only not in so many words; I do still want your money after all. I don't wait for your response. Instead, I turn the shower dial as far as it will possibly go, ensuring that the water will be so hot that it will almost hurt. It is the only way I will feel clean. I slip easily out of my over-sized tee shirt and am left standing in front of a full-length mirror in just a sports bra and yoga pants. There is still a sheen of sweat sticking to the soft curves of my body.
I watch the girl in the mirror, a pale, pretty-enough type with messy blonde hair thrown up into a quick ponytail, bangs half sticking up. She reaches behind her and unclasps the sports bra. It fell unceremoniously to the color and she heaved a small sigh of relief as her perky, small breasts were free at last from their sweaty encasement. I grope gently at my breasts, watching the mirror-self follow suit. Giving a small chuckle, I stop ogling myself and finish undressing. After, I take one last look at my reflection, the mirror already starting to fog up.
"You are beautiful," I tell myself. I don't fully believe it, but hearing it at least makes me smile. Sure, it's the disingenuous sort of smile you give someone who pays you a compliment you don't believe, but it's still a starting point. The girl in the mirror smiles back. She has too many teeth for her little mouth, I think. I sigh and pull my hair out of the messy ponytail, looking at my brightly colored tattoos and their contrast to my cream-colored skin before finally turning away and stepping into the shower.
The scalding water splashes over my naked body and I moan, an involuntary reaction. I focus on slowly, systematically letting each of my major muscle groups relax as the water burns away my filth and what feels like all of my wrongdoings, too. I stand there under that water for what feels like a long while, letting out a few more moans as my body relaxes and my mind lets go of the day.
Once I am fully relaxed and calm, I let my hand roam over my body and gently, idly, start to stroke between the folds of my vagina. My own moans of relaxation had started to taint my thoughts with vivid images of lust and desire. I stick two fingers into myself and smile; I am very wet and not just from the shower. I know I will cum at least twice before the shower is over. It is exactly what I need. I'm pushing in and out with increasing intensity, nearing my second orgasm when I hear a knock on the door.
"Mother fuckin... really?!" I glare at the wall of the shower and pull my fingers our from between my soft pussy lips. A small growl escapes my throat as I open the shower door and wrap myself in a towel, closing the shower and leaving the water on with hopes of returning shortly.
"Melody, if you forgot your keys again, I swear to god I'll kill you, you drunk slut," I grumble impatiently to what I figure is my roommate on the other side of the door. The threat is hollow and the insult more a term of endearment than anything else.
