Adrienne watched dejectedly as the teenage girls on the field jumped around—peppy enough to appease the parents, provocative enough to arouse the boys. She only came to these school events because her parents made her, convinced that she was a social butterfly hidden in the body of a caterpillar. Her father read the evening news, her mother was a publicist. They both made their living by being likeable, and didn't understand why Adrienne was content to spend so much time on her own. They didn't get that she simply liked herself, and was fine in her own company. They were somewhat sated when she started hanging out with a new girl, Anya, but their displeasure quickly returned when they realized Anya was every bit of an oddball as their daughter, and would do nothing to boost her social standing.
"They're sluts," Anya's voice interrupted as though she could read Adrienne's wistful thoughts towards the cheerleaders.
"Maybe I'm one too," she replied hotly.
"How can you be a slut when you've never slept with anyone? You've never even kissed a guy," came Anya's puzzled reply.
Adrienne considered this, crimson creeping up into her cheeks. She had just turned eighteen, was about to graduate high school, and had never been kissed, let alone had sex. But that didn't mean she didn't really want to. Every night she put herself to bed by playing in her mind what her first time would be like. Each time she pictured Allan, his strong, solid arms, his wavy, haphazard hair, his cocky smile. She pictured him as he excelled at everything—basketball, football, track. Her mind saw him sauntering to the sidelines after another athletic victory and instead of picking up his bleached-blonde cheerleader girlfriend Cindy and lifting her into the air, it would be Adrienne. He would wrap his sweaty arms around her, and then ...This is where the fantasy would vary. Last night she'd imagined that they'd be up all night on the outdoor bleachers, talking until everyone else disappeared, and then it would start to pour. The sky would open up, and they'd run for the doors to the school only to find that they'd been locked out. Already getting soaked, they'd decide to wait out the storm under the bleachers. Their clothes would be wet, and not wanting to get sick before the next big game, Allan would peel off his shirt. . .Adrienne would try to look away, wring out her chestnut hair and lower her long lashes, but he would know what she was thinking because it would be what he was thinking too. And he would move towards her, kiss her roughly on the mouth, and then. . .
This is where Adrienne would slide her hands up under the t-shirt she slept in and run them over her breasts—softly, at first, the way she imagined Aaron would the first time he explored her, and then more urgently. She'd squeeze her nipples and then grab her breasts hard, and her hands would find their way down to the only recently discovered hot spot between her legs. Once it was there, she usually stroked for awhile, until her breathing quickened and, frightened of what would happen next, she would stop.
"How can you be a slut if you've never had sex?"
"Anya, if I had the chance, you have no idea . . .," she muttered unabashedly. Anya was her best friend. She could say almost anything to her.
~
Later that night at Anya's house the girls lay side by side on the living room floor watching a sex scene. Adrienne's pulse quickened as she watched the man and woman's naked bodies writhing on the screen. She could only see the man's back, but she could see the woman's enormous, round breasts and wondered if it was possible that there really were women that well-endowed. She picked up the remote and pressed pause.
"What gives?" demanded Anya. "I was into that."
"You were?" Adrienne asked, surprised. "Did it . . . turn you on?"
"Sure, a little," she replied, embarrassed. "You're not the only one who thinks about sex, you know."
"I was just wondering if her boobs are real."
"I dunno," she answered, looking down at her own perky but small breasts. "Mine sure aren't like that."
"What are yours like?" Adrienne implored with cautious urgency.
"I'll show you mind if you show me yours." This said with a tease.
Adrienne called her bluff and pulled up her t-shirt, unhooking her bra with her free hand. She wiggled out of the white cotton undergarment with the little pink bow in the centre, and looked at her friend expectantly.
"Well? Show me yours." She gave a funny little wink. She noticed that Anya was biting her lip, a weird expression on her face. "Oh, were you kidding?" she flushed, embarrassed, placing one hand over her exposed breasts and reaching for her bra with the other.
"No, I guess I wasn't," Anya replied slowly. And then, "A deal's a deal." She pulled her snug black top up over her head and, depositing it neatly beside her, reached around to try and unhook her satin bra. After several seconds of struggle, Adrienne mercifully reached over and unclasped it with one hand.
Anya's red hair shimmied in the light as she jumped up and gasped, revealing her perfect round breasts and her beautiful pink nipples, which she noticed with fascination, were now erect. "I like yours better," said the redhead objectively, looking from Adrienne's chest to her own.
"Yours are like the woman's in the movie!" bemoaned the other girl. "They're perfect! You have porn-star boobs! Mine are weird!"
"Yours are not weird. I love how they're freckled. It's really. . ."
"Hideous?"
"I was going to say 'hot'."
Adrienne blushed when she realized her nipples were now as hard as her friend's. She quickly shrugged back into her shirt and took the movie off pause. Anya kept looking at her, and then slowly replaced her own shirt.
~
Later that night, as Adrienne pushed her fingers into the wetness between her legs and thought about Aaron, she heard a shushing sound. She stilled as she felt intimately familiar movements on the other side of the bed where her friend, who she'd thought was sleeping, was obviously awake. She heard Anya's breathing, as well as the pace of the shushing sound increase, followed by a sweet little sigh that sounded as though it was releasing all the tension in the world. What just happened here, she wondered, noticing that the spot where she was sleeping was much damper than it usually was after her nightly ritual. Then she couldn't help it—she plunged her fingers deep inside herself and did what she'd never allowed herself to do before. She came.
~
Adrienne couldn't stop thinking about the night she'd spent at Anya's. She'd learned in Sex-Ed that everyone masturbates—but when the topic was opened for discussion, the general consensus had been that it was gross, and obviously something only guys did. She had clammed up during the discussion; afraid that anything she said—even if she agreed that it was gross—would betray the fact that this was something she did—often. It both relieved and fascinated her that her best friend did the same thing. Then again, they were best friends for a reason. They were kindred. She wondered if this accounted for the growing heat she felt whenever she thought about Anya, her recent inability to take her eyes off her. It had been weeks since the sleepover, and the feelings hadn't waned. She'd tried to orgasm every night since then. It was like a quest, trying to find that one spot that made her buck, and that pushed her over the edge, but it seemed like last time had been a fluke. She could go on and on until the pleasure made her dizzy, but her body wouldn't let her release. She knew what she had to do, but the idea made all sorts of unwelcome thoughts crowd her mind. Thoughts about who she was, who she wanted to be, what she was. It was confusing—in fact, it felt like the only two settings on her mind and body lately were confused and horny. She laughed, wondering if that email address was taken: Confusedandhorny@slutmail.com. She picked up the hot pink cell charging on her bedside table and drew a deep breath before pressing speed dial number one.
~
"Adrienne, hi!" Anya was happy that her friend had called and asked to come over. She held her arms open for a hug and Adrienne gratefully accepted. "I've missed you the past couple of weeks. Where've you been hiding?"
"I was just in a mood. I needed time to myself, you know how I get."
"Hmm. Remember when you said being with me was like being alone?"
She remembered. It wasn't the insult most people would have taken it to be. Adrienne had always been more comfortable spending time on her own. She enjoyed solitude, and didn't have patience to be around people 24/7. Within weeks of their meeting, Anya had been the only one she could spend a whole day with without having to retreat into herself for awhile. When she said being with Anya was like being alone, she meant she made her totally comfortable. She would never tire of her.
"I remember saying that, and it's still true. The problem is that when I'm alone I talk to myself, and I was thinking things I wasn't sure I wanted to blurt out just yet."
