Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers
All characters are 18 years or older at the time of sexual activity.
Mary Ann's Story (continued!)
"What kind of border do you think we should put around Mrs. Adams' picture?" Donna asked.
"Donna" was Donna Ashbrook, my very best friend in high school, a fellow cheerleader, and worked with me on the yearbook staff. Our yearbook was called "Recollections," and the two of us were in charge of setting photographs.
"Well, some kind of black border, I guess," I said, "but nothing too ostentatious." I shrugged. "I don't know if even that many students knew her."
"She seemed kind of creepy to me," Donna said. "Didn't she make you cry one time?" Without waiting for a reply, she said, "Just a thick black border, do you think?"
"Yeah, that'll be fine, I'm sure," I said, glad that she'd dropped the subject.
"And don't forget that picture with Mrs. Crafton and her service dog," I said. "I think that service dogs are so neat and well behaved. They never pee where they're not supposed to."
"Yeah, okay," replied Donna.
I looked at Donna as she added a box over Mrs. Adams picture on the computer monitor. Ever since I had been converted to lesbianism, and joined The Organization, a lesbian criminal group, I had begun to look at Donna in a whole new light - a more lustful and romantic light.
No one knew that I was now a lesbian, and fortunately girls aren't quite so bad about the accusations of homosexuality as high school guys, though they are far worse to each other about everything else. But my feelings of attraction to Donna were growing stronger by the day, and I began to cast about for ways to satisfy them.
"Hey, Donna, would you like to sleep over at my house Friday the 20th?"
"Why, what's going on?' she asked.
"My parents'll be out of town, and we can stay up late, dish dirt on everybody, eat ice cream and cake, you know..."
"It sounds nice," she said. "I think I can do it then, I'll ask my parents if it's okay."
So we set it up, and the day couldn't arrive fast enough for me. At the sound of Donna walking up the front sidewalk, I opened the door. Mrs. Ashbrook was just pulling away and gave me a quick wave from the driver's seat. I waved back, then focused on Donna.
She looked even more beautiful than ever, though a dispassionate observer would have said that she was cute and attractive, not beautiful. Her body was much more developed than mine, her curves much curvier. She was the same height as me, 5' 6", with long, light blonde hair, slim, with cute, medium-sized breasts and a perfect, plump ass.
She was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and carrying a small bag of her stuff.
"Hi," I said, fighting the impulse to take her in my arms and kiss her. "God, she'd have a stroke," I thought.
"Hi," she said back. We went in, and put her stuff in my bedroom, then went down to the living room to watch tv, eat stuff, and mainly, talk about everyone else.
"Your hair looks nice," I said.
"Oh thanks, I was thinking of doing something different with it. I love how yours looks, I think your curls are perfect. And I wish mine was your shade of brown. I keep getting mistaken for a dumb chick."
"Oh, and that's wrong?" I laughed.
"Stinker!" she said, hitting me with a sofá pillow. I caught it, and we sort of awkwardly looked at each other for a moment - god, if I had the nerve then, I would have just kissed her, her mouth looked so sweet and hot, her lips so moist and kissable...but I chickened out.
I had come up with a plan, and I was nervous about both the morality of it, and its chances for success. I had a tube of The Organization's lipstick that was doctored with the solution that Mrs. Adams had surreptitiously injected me with, via her bracelet. But instead of poking Donna with the 'magic formula' that would loosen her up and become receptive to my sapphic overtures, I would have her try on the lipstick, and get a dose that way.
After watching Netflix for a while, and the millionth viewing for both of us of Notting Hill, I said, "You know, I think Julia Roberts has the best taste in lipstick."
"Really?" Donna said. "I don't know, I think her lips look really kind of funny."
"Well, maybe," I said, moving on, "I got a new lipstick, I really like it, would you like to try it?"
"I guess," Donna said, as I quickly leaped up and ran to my bedroom to get it.
"Here it is," I said, breathing only a little heavier than normal, my race to the bedroom and my excitement at what I was about to do making it harder to catch my breath.
"It's a nice color," Donna said. "But I don't think it's my color," she added. I was crestfallen.
"Oh, I don't know, I think you'd look nice with it. You can just try it."
"Well, okay," she said. "Let's go into the bathroom so I can use the mirror there." We walked over to the main bathroom, and crowded in to the small room.
"It sort of tingles when you first put it on," I said.
"Okay," she said, and then began carefully applying it. I watched eagerly.
When she was finished, I asked, "Well, what do you think?" hoping that she'd reply something clearly an approval for romance, like, "I really like it. Can we fuck?"
To my chagrín, she mooshed her lips to even it out, then licked them, and said, "It would look really good on you, but I just don't think it's me."
"Oh," I said.
Then she turned to me and said, "You don't have to do that with me."
I stared at her. Had I been found out? Crap, would she hate me?
