Amy Puller could only be described as a Lesbian, everything about her screamed it, the way she carried herself, the way she dressed and especially the way she cut her hair, the fact that she'd only ever kissed a boy once and then immediately decided it wasn't for her was only icing on the cake.
She was on the shorter side at just five feet tall, she had a slight shape with pale skin that was marked regularly with small tattoos, she had firm and pointed B-cup breasts, her stomach was toned and flat from a well maintained fitness regime that kept her butt round and plump. She'd been dying her hair black for years and preferred to cut it short and shave it to the scalp on the back and sides, she wore a nose ring.
Amy had been no stranger to her own sex as she'd made her way through school, upon arriving at University in London she had quickly developed a reputation for one night stands, she often joked that the girls would run into each other on the way out. She found herself dabbling in the alternate scene, and soon added the title of a Merciless Dom to her reputation.
Straight girls were always her primary target.
But it wasn't as though she hated men, she just wasn't interested in them, she had more than a few male friends and had made the mistake of trusting one of them. She'd managed to find a job in the city that started just after graduation, but she'd have to find somewhere to live, and that was when Andrew had come in.
Andrew Nickle was the perfect choice of flat mate on paper, the son of a divorced couple, his mother had remarried a wealthy banker, a few years later she'd died. When Amy had met him he was a psychology student with ginger hair and glasses, he had been a bit doughy and didn't have much confidence. The two had been in the same Halls of Residence during their first year and had formed a casual friendship. They'd maintained their distant relationship over the course of the three years at uni even as they'd moved into separate accommodations and their social groups began to drift away from each other.
In the summer before their first final year, Andrew had lost most of the dough and had shot up to six feet, he'd gotten laser eye surgery, had cut his hair short, and even started a surprisingly lucrative career as a streamer. It was an astounding transformation, and Amy would have been impressed if men had done anything for her. It appeared he'd gotten an attitude adjustment and seemed much more comfortable and confident in his own skin. Amy almost hadn't recognized him at first. As their final year was drawing to a close, Andrew made his pitch.
His step father had bought him a place in the city, but wouldn't be paying his bills, so Andrew wanted someone to move in with him to help him cover the cost of living. The rent was more than reasonable, especially with rates in central London and she had eagerly agreed.
The two of them moved into a gorgeous four bedroom house on Marble Arch at the end of their final year at University. Andrew's step dad had clearly spent a small fortune as the house was huge; spread over three floors, the walls were painted an immaculate white and the carpets were thick and luxuriant. As well as the spacious foyer there was a large combination kitchen and dining room on the ground floor that connected to an equally spacious living room. There two bed rooms on the second and third floors, each with their own en-suite bathroom. All the furniture was brand new, modern and extremely expensive, the Wi-Fi was even decent, which was saying something at the centre of London.
It was almost two months before she realised how much of a mistake she had made, and by then it was far too late.
It started slowly at first, she'd wake up feeling restless, she was getting full nights but it only ever felt like she was napping at best, and from the first week in the flat she noticed that she always woke up with stiff nipples despite keeping her room warm. It only get weirder from there.
The nights got less and less restful and we're filled with strange dreams she could never remember, and from the second week onwards she woke up achingly aroused, right on the point of orgasm with glistening fingers and a heavy layer of sweat drenching her. She did briefly consider that Andrew might have something to do with it, but she shook that idea off. She locked her door at night, and from the looks of things he was getting less sleep than she was. So she carried on and gradually she began to sleep easier, even if she did still awake up turned on, it was never an issue to deal with it anyway.
Until one morning, on the Wednesday of the seventh week, when her already slick fingers slipped into their usual familiar place and she just couldn't summon up the effort to take care of business. She frowned idly for a moment before shrugging and throwing back the damp covers, she was working a short shift that afternoon. She dressed quickly in a grey wife beater, a denim vest and a shorts with tall Doc Martins.
Andrew was making a coffee as she made her way into the kitchen, he always seemed so put together despite his late nights, she often heard him stream into the small hours.
"You look rushed." He mused casually as he pushed down on the plunger of his cafeteria. Amy rolled her eyes as she turned her back on him and scooped out a few heavy teaspoons of instant coffee powder into a travel mug, it was one of Andrew's but he didn't say anything.
"Slept in." She muttered darkly, her heavy brown eyes staring moodily as she poured boiling water from the kettle. Really the lack of sleep had nothing to do with her bad mood, if she'd had the time or the effort to rub one out she would have been in a far better mood, she always was. Behind her she heard the tap turn on.
"Ah I see." Amy did get best not to roll her eyes and rub her temples, Andrew was far more of a morning person than she was. "Are you going out tonight?" Amy shook her head as she opened the fridge.
