"Valentine's day is bullshit," Violet whined, rolling over on her back. She hung her head over the edge of Jess' bed to look at her friend upside down. "It was just invented by Hallmark to make money in that stretch between Christmas and Easter."
"Read a book, Vi," Jess chided "Valentine's day has been around way longer than Hallmark—the first holiday to celebrate romantic love—choosing who you are with, instead of being basically sold as a wife, or worse." Jess sighed, slinking out of her clingy red dress. She did not wear a bra underneath—there was no room—so she stood with her arms crossed over her breasts, looking into the mirror.
"I'm as educated as you , bitch. I just don't see how the martyrdom of some rando Catholic saint means we should all put up with dudes and eat chalk-flavored heart candies." Violet tried hard not to look at Jess holding dresses up to her almost-naked body. "Like it would matter anyway, being able to choose. I've been single for...how long?"
"It feels like forever, as much as you whine about it," Vi giggled , winking over her shoulder. "Look, get dressed, tonight isn't about guys anyway."
"Vi, swear to God, if you take me to the Vagina Monologues again this year, I am darting into traffic. 'My vagina is a flower, my vagina is a magic chamber of feminine mystique..."
"Stop belittling your own people! " Jess said, swatting Vi on the ass. "And we're not going to V-day anyway. Let me dress you up, tonight will be fun." She pulled a pink dress over her head, exposing creamy breasts and rosy nipples as she did. "Can you see my pantyline through this?" She asked, pushing her ass out at Vi.
Vi stammered. She loved Jess, her roommate of almost 3 years, but never could get over how shameless she was about her body. She could see clearly the line of Jess' tiny thong underneath the fitted dress.
"A little," She answered.
"Thought so," Jess said, pulling her underwear off under her dress and tossing it aside. She did it so quickly, Vi hadn't seen an inch of flesh, but could smell just a hint of Jess—she made a note of where the panties had landed. Vi wasn't gay, but there was one little thing she did...sometimes, only sometimes, she would steal Jess' underwear out of the washer, from the floor, wherever, just to smell them, just a little. Just because it turned her on to think of someone else being turned on—Jess' underthings were nearly always a little wet, she did go out an awful lot, and they were always lacier and cuter than Vi's own things. But it didn't mean anything.
"Now, let's get you dressed," Jess said, snapping Vi out of her reverie.
She stood in her yoga pants and an old tank top, slouching. Jess rolled her eyes and grabbed the yoga pants by the waistband, pulling them down.
"Hey!" Vi squealed.
"Oh, come on. Get undressed. I have no idea what size you are, and we both have the same parts," said Jess.
"Fine," Vi said, slipping off the tank too. Underneath her sloppy clothes, Vi's body was inviting, curving, glowing white against the olive tone of her arms and legs from lack of exposure.
Jess surveyed her closely. Vi could feel her pussy dampening at this kind of scrutiny, and hoped that Jess wouldn't notice.
"Your tits are bigger than mine, so this won't quite fit but..." Jess pulled out a tiny black tube dress, "this should do." She pulled it over Vi's head, ignoring her muffled protests. "There," Jess said. "Beautiful."
Vi tugged uncomfortably at the top of the dress, and then at the bottom—there did not seem to be enough fabric to keep both her tits and ass comfortably covered.
"You need shoes, too..." Jess said, bending over into her closet. Vi looked away, as just a hint of Jess' slit showed underneath her short dress. She tossed out two pairs of impossibly high stilettos-one set shiny and red, one pair of little black booties that cut off at the ankle.
"Here, step into one," Jess instructed. Vi rolled her eyes, slid a shoe on each foot.
"Which one?" she asked, "I'm not even trying to guess, here."
Jess stroked her chin in thought, "Depends on your goals for the evening. The black ones say 'buy me a drink, and we'll see', the red ones are more of a 'I need you to fuck me in the bathroom, stat."
Vi turned so she could see her profile in the mirror, shocked by how high and taut her own ass looked in that dress, with those shoes raising her heels and calves. She'd read, in her sociology class, the reason shoes like that were attractive. High heels signaled fertility, by showing off the wearer's wide hips and plush ass. But more than that, they signaled an aloof desirability-a woman in heels was one who did not have to walk very far or very fast. She could not run. Or, alternately, she would not run. Heels like that projected wealth, fertility, and in some backwards way, sluttiness.
"One more thing," Jess interrupted, slipping a silver chain around Vi's neck. "There. Perfect."
"'Perfect'? I look like a whore," Vi complained.
"A high class one," Jess said, laughing. "Now let's go."
She grabbed Vi by the wrist and playfully pulled her out the door. Vi bobbed along behind her—if she had to celebrate Valentine's at all, she figured, at least she'd be with her roommate-her favorite girl friend.
"I've never heard of this place," Vi said. She couldn't quite read the neon letters above the club door where they stood, shivering in their small dresses.
"Really? I go to Saffy-O's all the time," said Jess. "I thought I'd brought you before."
Vi shook her head.
"I never go out," she said.
"I guess not. Jeez, Vi, you look freezing, come here!" before Vi could protest, Jess had wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "Better?" Jess whispered to Vi.
Vi nodded, nervous.
"IDs?" the bouncer asked. She was a strong-looking woman, hair cut short with muscled forearms.
Jess pulled her wallet out of her purse, and Vi followed.
"No, not you," the bouncer said , pointing at Vi. "You sign."
Vi looked confused.
"It's because you look so young."
Vi thought she saw Jess wink at the bouncer, who chuckled lightly to herself. Vi signed the paper the bouncer handed her.
"You ladies enjoy yourselves. Especially you, cutie." She smiled at Vi.
"Did she just hit on me?" Vi asked, laughing.
"Why wouldn't she?" Jess smiled. "You look good enough to eat."
"There are no men here," Vi whined, surveying the crowd. "Wait...is that one?"
"No, that's a dyke," Said Jess, waving to an androgynous woman in the corner who had her thin arm around a smaller girl's waist. The woman turned and smiled, waved back. "Have a drink." She passed Vi a small glass.
"Dyke? Isn't that kinda harsh?" Vi said, taking a sip of the pink beverage in her hand.
Jess shook her head. "Not here. That's just what you call women like that."
"Women like what?" Vi asked, biting her lip uncomfortably as she watched the woman pull her smaller partner in for a deep, long kiss, her hands tracing the hem of her short, black dress.
"You know. The stronger ones. Dominant ones," Jess whispered, putting squeezing Vi's hips.
"Well, I wish there were at least some men here..." Vi pouted, crossing her arms. She felt warm where Jess touched her, unsure if the warmth grew from her friend's hands or from between her legs as she watched the sea of women dancing against each other, here and there kissing, here and there hands disappearing under dresses. " I feel so..."
"Horny?" Jess offered, grinning.
Vi shrugged.
"You don't need men for that, " Jess said.
Vi felt lightheaded. What had she drunk?
"I'm not gay," she said, stepping away from Jess.
"You don't need to be. C'mon."
Jess pulled Vi through the crowd, slipping past couples wrapped around each other. A lot of women, she noticed, were dressed like her—plain, tiny black dresses, all paired with women who leered knowingly at Vi as they passed.
Jess pushed back a curtain, where another bouncer, a woman with muscled arms and a blonde pompadour.
"No, there's too many of you...Oh," The bouncer said, when she saw Vi. "Go on ahead."
Vi looked to Jess.
"Why did she change her mind when she saw me?" Vi asked.
"You're so cute?" Jess laughed.
There was a crowd of women dressed just like Vi, standing around something she couldn't see. Some, she noticed, wore fine silver chains that were held by women next to them, some connected to collars, some disappeared under dresses. There was a smell in the air—a smell like Jess's underwear, but newer, wetter. Vi felt as though she may faint.
The smell became stronger, more intoxicating as Jess led her through the crush to see what the other women were watching. Vi could hear moaning, something wetly rattling.
"Oh!" Vi squealed, started.
There in the center of the room were two women in black dresses that had been hiked up, and pulled down to show their breasts and pussies, straddling what looked like two saddles. Sybians? Vi had only ever seen one in the pornos she watched furtively , with headphones, when Jess was out of the house. Seeing them in the flesh , so to speak...Vi felt her whole body flush. The women astride them faced each other, they eyes closed in intense pleasure. Both were small, with tiny, mouthful titties tipped by rosebud nipples that bounced with vibration. Their similarities stopped there—one woman's head was shaved under a long swath of hair, a hoop piercing her lower lip. The other looked utterly ordinary, with her dark hair tied in a bun, like she could be any random secretary or student until Vi took in the rest of her body. Dotted all over were studs of piercings, including one that bobbed against the sybian saddle. In an arc over her belly, a gothic script read "Alexandra's Bitch".
"Jess...what is this?"
"Sybian racing," Jess answered, her lips dangerously close to Vi's neck. "The dykes bring in their subby girlfriend, or, in some cases, just a friend who needs some...help, and they compete."
Vi could feel her pussy getting wetter, adding to the scent on the air. She was afraid it may drip down her leg, exposing her.
"What do you mean, compete?"
"Last woman standing, so to speak. The last one to keep from coming wins."
"Wins what?" Vi asked.
"Well if you keep watching , you'll see." She smiled.
Alexandra's Bitch clearly wanted it more-despite her body shivering in pleasure, she moaned, posed, did everything she could to push her competitor over the edge. With a wicked gleam in her eye, she leaned over, kissed the girl full on the mouth, and squeezed her tiny nipples.
It was too much. The girl with the shaved head groaned, shook hard, a spray of wetness escaping her as she slid off the sybian, exhausted.
