This story was originally published as "Shotgun", because I didn't imagine it as growing to be a series, I didn't organize it as one. I am correcting that error now.
This text has been copy edited the text (with the generous help of HaltWhoGoesThere - who I am very grateful to for their time and input).
My intent is not to offend, but this is a d/s romance with strong themes of nonconsent and reluctance. If that's not your bag, I understand and hope you will find another story.
As always I hope you will enjoy the story, and that if you do you will leave a comment.
XOSNS
Shotgun
Annie sat in the glow of her desk light; her books and papers in ordered stacks. She had finished her work, but was reviewing her schedule for the next week, planning her days.
She heard the door open, turned in her chair to see Michele as she shut the door and kicked off her flip flops. She had left that morning for another trail run on some nearby mountain with the Cross Country Club and had been gone all day. Annie had studied until mid afternoon when Nancy had burst in hot and heavy, bundling her off to the field house for a yoga class. Afterwards she and Nancy had had dinner with a group of other students from the class.
When she came back to the room it was empty, but Michele's red shorts and other running gear was on the floor near the door. Yoga had been more relaxing than taxing so Annie decided to skip showering and changed into her sleep gear - a silk set of loose pink trunks and camisole her mother had given her - and had settled herself at her desk.
She heard the door and turned to see Michele, wrapped in her thick white bathrobe, hair up in a towel, face flush and still damp.
Michele, seeing Annie looking at her, stared back as she locked the door. Crossing to her bed and tossing her kit on her pillow, she bent her neck forward and unwrapped her hair. Wet, it was the color of dark chocolate and looked heavy. Annie, whose short hair her mother said was as fine as corn silk, tried to imagine how it would feel to have a thick heavy mane. She watched in silence as Michele began to gently dry it by pressing it with her towel.
After a time she dropped back onto her bed and without stopping, head still bent, she reached blindly into the little bag with one hand and began to rummage her things. By now Annie knew Michele's ritual. She stood up, switched off her desk lamp, and crossed to stand in front of the stronger girl. She reached down and placed her hand on the wrist of Michele's groping hand.
Her fingers looked so small and white against the other girl's powerful tan arm.
"May I?" She asked quietly.
Without responding Michele withdrew her hand, and Annie retrieved the hair brush. She straightened up and stood waiting as the other girl gave her hair one last squeeze and, setting the towel on the bed, looked up at her.
Holding her gaze, Annie stepped forward into the space between Michele's knees and, starting at her brow, she began to brush her hair with long slow strokes. As she worked with her right hand, she smoothed Michele's brow with her left, exploring its contours with her thumb. Cupping the shape of her bony crown with her palm. Her skin was moist and still radiating the heat from her shower.
While nothing about Michele was particularly mannish, or blocky, she had chiseled features and a beautifully square jaw. Sharp cheekbones, long straight nose, big widely spaced dark brown eyes, and full beautiful lips that stood out as if painted. Annie felt her own features were desaturated, soft and washed out in comparison. She stroked Michele's eyebrows with her thumb, admiring them. They were thick and dark, as clearly defined as the rest of her, which Annie liked very much. Her own brows were pale and thin, she wondered if Michele had to pluck hers - she'd never seen her doing it.
Michele was looking up at her while she studied her features, and Annie warmed at the attention. The weekend had gone by quickly, and while nothing in particular had been said a great deal had happened, and she felt far more at ease with Michele than she ever had before.
Saturday morning both girls had slept late, missing breakfast. When Annie finally did wake up Michele was sleeping deeply still, her hair a tangled fan behind her, but she had on her old-man pajamas and was under her covers, so she must have gotten up at some point in the night.
Stretching, Annie got up, pulled on a pair of jeans and boots, and grabbed her jacket. Closing the door behind her as quietly as possible she headed down the hall. She stopped to wash her face and brush her teeth on the way out (tucking her toothbrush in her back pocket), then clomped noisily down the stairs; enjoying the happy racket. Following a "desire path" she crossed the quad diagonally to the student center where she got two coffees from the cafe and headed back to their room.
On the white board mounted to the outside of the door to their room "MOVIE NIGHT!" had been scrawled in red marker. She didn't recognize the handwriting and wondered for a moment what it meant - she hadn't seen it written on any of anyone else's board. Meanwhile the door was ajar. Pushing it open with her toe she found Michele sitting up reading a book on her unmade bed, her back against the wall. She had cleaned up and pulled back her hair into a ponytail, but was still in her old man pajamas.
Annie left the door open and kicked off her boots. Handing Michele her coffee (lots of milk, no sugar) she walked to her desk and settled in there to study. The two of them spent the afternoon that way. People stopped by to chat, or just poked their heads in the door to say hi, but no serious interruptions. Nancy stopped by to explain the note on the whiteboard. The Film Club was screening "Pulp Fiction", which Annie had still not seen. It turned out neither had Michele or Nancy. The three of them made a plan to attend.
At one point Michele pulled jeans over her pajama bottoms and went out foraging. She came back with drinks and a couple of sandwiches along with a big salad for Annie. They'd sat across from each other on Michele's bed eating and gossiping about their classes a little. But mostly working through their meal in silence.
It was well past dark before either of them showered, and then, only because it was "movie night". When Annie got back from her shower Nancy was in their room looking exasperated. She scolded her for taking so long in the shower. "We're going to get shitty seats!"
Michele smiled at her conspiratorially, but was clearly now rushing to get dressed.
"I had to shave," Annie had explained.
"Well hurry up!" Nancy snapped in mock outrage. She clapped her hands at Annie sharply, but was smiling broadly as she did so. While Nancy was Korean, with delicate features Annie felt were elegant - even classical - her expressions and manner were entirely Chicago. She even spoke out of the side of her mouth at times - usually when making a joke, like now.
Annie got busy, but not without noticing that Nancy looked fantastic. She was in skin tight jeans and a pretty white blouse, had done her long black hair in a French braid and was wearing makeup. Checking out Michele who - just before her shower had said that she was going to wear "idunnosomethingcomfy" - was at the mirror putting on eyeliner. Annie saw she was wearing low rise jeans and a satin top that Annie had never seen before, but thought it made her breasts look supernatural. Nancy had clearly upped the game with her outfit.
For herself, Annie pulled on a pair of leggings and chose a panel dress her mother had given her that she liked because it flared and came down to just above her knees.
'Not too short, not too long,' Annie thought.
But she almost never wore it because it had no shoulders and was tight across her chest - while Annie had tiny breasts she was very self conscious about her nipples, which were big when erect, standing out like pebbles, embarrassing her if she wasn't careful about what she wore.
So over it she wore her favorite sweater. She'd found it in a vintage shop. It was knit from thick warm-gray wool, oversized (of course) a little asymmetrical and formless - someone had clearly made it by hand. Across the front, a little lower than you'd expect, an oddly shaped serif font spelled out "Joy Divison" in dark scarlet letters. They weren't embroidered on after the sweater had been finished, the scarlet yarn had been painstakingly added to the warp and weft. Annie thought it was simultaneously the saddest and coolest thing ever.
Nancy groaned dramatically as Annie joined Michele at their little mirror to do her eyes and lips. The taller girl looked at her in the mirror as she applied a bright red lipstick. Although she didn't do anything suggestive Annie saw herself starting to blush as she looked back at Michele and applied lip gloss that smelled like cherry hard candy. Annie almost never wore makeup, her mother's disapproval too powerful a deterrent - even at a distance - but she loved how mascara made her eyes look, and indulged herself guiltily on special occasions. Like tonight.
Clunky boots finished out her ensemble - giving it a Tank Girl frisson - just as Nancy all but pushed them out the door.
The girls smoked a bowl as they walked to the AV. The other girls howled with laughter when Michele noticed the misspelling on Annie's sweater, which pleased her immensely.
As they entered the AV department Nancy warned them in a loud stage whisper that the Film Club was a "total fucking sausage party" but Annie was relieved to see the crowd was pretty evenly split between boys and girls. And perhaps it was because the college had historically been an all-girls school, the boys here, as a group, were much different from the boys she had grown up around. They didn't dominate the conversation in classes, seemed milder in social settings, were generally more likable - as a group.
