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I'd like to thank my editor and friend TekNight for invaluable advice and corrections. This story was requested by JessiePi.
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I hate her. Oh god, really, seriously, I hate her. Big words, I know, but I'm a big guy, muscular even, I can say stuff like this. And not just her. I hate waiting, I hate this train station, I hate all these stupid people around me, the sun shining like it's a nice day, those annoying birds. And most of all, I hate myself.
Look at me, standing amongst these boring folks, waiting for other boring folks to step onto the platform. They'll pretend they're happy to see them, chat about things like the nice weather or uncle whocares - man, if only I had a shot gun. The worst thing is, I'm about to do the same.
She will step off the train, walk up to me with that careless strut of hers, hug me, and there'll be nothing left of me again, just like before. Just like every time we do this. I don't know what she does to me, but it turns me into a fuckin' oversized puppy carrying her backpack to the car. I'm such a weak, easy bastard. I can't stand that she does this to me and I never get what I want from her. Not really, anyway. But she teases, man, she teases. She drives me crazy. Why am I even doing this?
And then she's standing in front of me, and I remember why.
"Hi there! Missed me?" she says, smiling that sweet, intimate, confident smile of hers.
Her eyes sparkle. The soft, hot summer breeze messes up her hair, blows her summer dress against her body. She looks good. Damn.
"Nah, not for a second," I joke.
Sure, totally. Except for all those times I jacked off to thoughts of her begging me to cover her tits with my cum. She even knows about it. Standing here, amongst these decent people, in broad daylight, I can't believe I told her that I think of her when I masturbate. But I didn't stand a chance, she teased it out of me in the dead of night, during one of her sleepovers. What she doesn't know is that my fantasies never end in a very nice way. Not at all. I'm such an asshole.
She laughs and says, "Come here, you!"
She hugs me. I don't deserve that. My heart's pounding. Her forehead touches my chin. I take a deep breath, smell her hair, feel her tits against me. I have to make an effort not to let my hands wander down to her lovely, curvy ass. Don't be a jerk, keep 'em on her back, it's not that hard... When she lets go, I pick up her backpack.
As we drive into town, we talk, and I relax a little. She asks about how friends that live down here are doing. I tell her one of our ex roommates is having health issues. We talk about how hard it is to find decent jobs.
The sun hangs in the sky, deceptively, like it always does in the summer, a piece of candy spat out on the sidewalk, stuck there, pretending there's still a lot of day to come once dinner time is over. We decide on noodles and sit down at a tiny red plastic table in a small, noisy noodle bar, where everything looks like it is disposable, mostly because it really is.
We reminisce for a bit. It's been years since we both lived in that big dorm. With fifteen rooms per living unit, there were always new people living there, and she, I and another girl turned out to be the only constant factors throughout the years. Those were good times, with a few epic parties, lots of mediocre shared meals, and also our infamous board game nights, starting with lasagna, ending with beers at 5 in the morning and someone writing the scores on the inside of the toilet door with a water resistant marker. The three of us were a fun gang to live with. At least, until I made that mistake.
"Do you still see her?" She asks.
I sigh, don't say anything. I hope the look on my face shows her that I'm not in the mood to talk about what happened after the messy break up. The stupid mistakes I piled up on top of it, the ugly things that still reverberate to the present.
But back then, I enjoyed it so much. How sexy and seductive it had been to date that girl while we both lived there, to sneak into the shower with her in the mornings, without anyone noticing. How ferociously hot it was to have some other roommate brush his teeth in the bathroom, oblivious of how, under the running shower behind the curtain, I held my hand over her mouth as I fingered her to orgasm.
"You should never have dated her, you know," she says. "Never fuck roomies. It's bound to turn out to be a disaster."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've learned my lesson." I stare out the window. Now I'm gonna say the things I always say when she visits me. And I know exactly how she'll answer.
"We're way past being roomies, by the way..."
She chuckles, but I can tell it's not really genuine.
"Somehow it doesn't sound like you learned your lesson...," she says. At this point I should shut up, but I can't shake the memories of all these visits, where she sleeps next to me in my bed, where we get each other so wound up we masturbate together. No fucking, never any real sex, because we are fooling ourselves into believing what we do is innocent. But it it's not, not at all.
"Well, neither have you," I say, as I stare at her intently. "We might not actually... do it... but in this case that doesn't mean anything."
She doesn't say anything. I look around the noodle bar, nobody seems to notice the turn our conversation has taken.
"We can't date, I know, fine. What I don't get is: why can't we... fuck?"
Now it's her time to stare out the window.
"We're friends," she says, finally. "Never fuck your friends. I know you don't see it, but I tell you it's true. If we'd actually fuck, it would change things. More than you think. More than what we do now. This... is accidental. It's innocent."
"Bull," I say, but I know that won't change her mind. I'm also not so sure she's wrong.
"Are you still seeing him?" I ask. Last time she was here she was dating some messed up married guy, who would kill me if he knew about me. Especially if he knew she tells me exactly what they do in bed.
She shrugs. I have no idea what that means, except for that she doesn't want me to know. Yet.
"Why," she asks. "Would you like that?" Slowly, her face shows a naughty grin. Under the table, one of her feet rubs against my calf. My cock grows in my pants.
Oh fuck, I hate her so much. Tonight is going to be another horrible, impossible challenge. She is going to slowly fry my brain and bruise my balls. Please, married motherfucker, take your Glock, stick it in the back of your jeans, drive over here and shoot me now. Please. Or I don't know what I'll do to her tonight...
"Why are you eating with a plastic fork anyways?" She suddenly says, and she takes it from my hands. The rest of our time there is spent with her trying to teach me how to fold my fingers in that specific way required to eat with chopsticks, while the remainder of my noodles gets colder and colder, and I love her to bits again. This up and down, this yo-yo, it's enough to make a grown man crazy. And I don't feel like a grown man at all, right now.
When we get home, we grab some beer and watch a movie in bed. The warm summer evening keeps us company. From the street we hear the sounds of carefree people, birds that are only here for one season, the occasional car. Cuddled up like this, I feel better than I have in a very long time. I kiss the top of her head, tell her I have missed her, miss this. And I have. I wish we could stay like this forever. I wish she would just forget about the whole sex thing, stop making things so complicated. I wish we could just fall asleep together, like this, and when we wake up again, we'll have broken the spell, and we can be just friends again.
Then I get back from the kitchen, with a couple of cold beers, I sit back on the bed again and things are not the same.
"Uhm, hi there..." she says, batting her eyelashes. She's under the blankets, but she looks at me with a devious sparkle in her eyes. For a second I wonder what she's on about. Then my eyes wander down, my heart misses a beat and my dick goes from soft to hard in seconds. Slowly, rhythmically, her hand is moving under the blanket, right between her legs. She catches my gaze and grins.
"Wanna watch?" she asks in her most sultry voice.
I stare at the blanket, where her hand is caressing her pussy. No, this is not going to end well. Not today.
"I'm... I'm not... in the mood."
She laughs and looks at my crotch.
