"You're not hungry?" Janette asked.
Vicki looked down at her plate of street tacos.
"Guess not," she said.
"You going to tell me what's wrong?"
Vicki sighed. Where to start? It had been a couple of days since the party, and Vicki still didn't know how to feel about the sex with Bill. And Liz. Sex with Bill and Liz.
Bill had fucked her hard, almost violently, making her come so hard she forgot where she was, which (at the time) was face deep in Liz's pussy. Sex with Bill had been both better and worse than she had imagined. Her first orgasm mixed with forced pussy eating. What a night.
Vicki felt like a prisoner to Liz's cruel whims and the pleasures of her own body, certain she hated it, that the orgasms were nothing but stupid biology. Almost certain.
Fuck.
She needed to talk, to trust her roommate. Janette always made it better. All Vicki had to do was open up. She nibbled on some queso instead.
"Fine," Janette said.
They picked at their food.
"You worried about the weigh-in?" Janette asked.
Jesus, the fucking weigh in. Vicki had been hitting the gym. She was as close to happy as she'd ever been with her body, but only a handful of pounds had come off.
"You shouldn't worry," Janette said, "You don't need to lose--"
"It's not the fucking weigh-in," Vicki said.
She regretted the words even before she saw the hurt in Janette's eyes. Janette was 1996 runway model thin, and Vicki... Vicki was not. She tried not to let it get to her, tried and failed apparently.
Fuck. Again.
"I'm sorry," Vicki said. "The other night, at the party..."
Vicki trailed off. Janette watched with those pale blue eyes.
"I, well," Vicki started again. She darted her eyes to the other tables. A family distracted by rambunctious toddlers. "Liz made me eat her. You know." Vicki raised her eyes and darted them down to her pussy.
Janette's smile was just a little too warm.
"Well don't look too fucking happy," Vicki said.
Janette struggled to straighten her face to a more neutral look. Her serious face. "Yeah, sorry," Janette said. "Are you OK?"
"Just ask what you want to ask," Vicki said. "Did I like it?"
Janette raised her eyes.
"Of course not," Vicki said. "It was fucking Liz."
"I'm sorry," Janette said. "It shouldn't be that way."
Janette had that puppy dog face, the take-me-home-and-fuck-me-you-won't-regret-it-face. Vicki was straight and even she felt a pang of something.
"Stop that!" Vicki said.
"What?" Janette asked. Innocent. Janette watched Vicki eat her queso, waiting for the rest of it.
"She said I was bad at it," Vicki said.
"So what?"
"So bad she was going to come up with a punishment," Vicki said.
Janette didn't even try to contain the laughter. It was everything she could do not to spit-take her margarita.
"It's not fucking funny," Vicki said.
Every micro-second that Janette spent trying to reign it in only made it worse. Vicki's face burned with embarrassment.
"How can you be that bad?"
"Well--"
"No seriously, what the hell happened?"
"I wasn't that bad--"
"Prove it," Janette said, a twinkle in her eye.
Time stopped. Janette was serious. Liz and Bill were forgotten in an instant-- Vicki's embarrassment, memories of Bill, all of it gone. Janette wanted her.
Janette with that smile and those eyes. That perfect body, the promise of good sex and acceptance.
"I can't," Vicki said.
Janette didn't have the good taste to look away, to giggle, to change the subject. She just stared.
"I can't," Vicki said. As if saying it twice explained anything.
"OK," Janette said. Her eyes darted away.
Vicki didn't know why. She liked Janette. Janette was sexy, and safe, and supportive, and... it was wrong.
"Janette," Vicki started.
"It's fine," she said.
"You are--" Vicki said.
"Fine," Janette interrupted. "No worries." She faked a smile.
Vicki heard the strain in Janette's voice. It was the right choice even if she didn't why. Janette was her only real friend.
But somehow she was even fucking that up. Vicki turned her thoughts to something less painful, the idea that Liz was going to punish her. She didn't know how, but she knew it was going to be terrible.
--
Vicki spent her afternoon classes in a haze, sifting through her life choices, trying to reconcile how this version of herself had rejected Janette, but the other version, the version bent over and fucked hard by Bill had longed for her.
She was a spiral of anxiety. The unknown punishment. The feeling of Bill inside her. The taste of Liz's pussy. Janette and her blue eyes and her broken heart. Another weigh-in. What did she weigh today? Fuck.
"You alright?" James asked.
"Yeah. Why?" Vicki responded. Where was her head at?