So, Jane is really hot.
That's nothing new. Darcy knows that's nothing new. She doesn't make a habit of checking out the people she works with - well, okay, she totally does, but she doesn't dwell on it or anything. There's no reason why she should be dwelling on Jane. She isn't dwelling on Jane.
Except she can't stop thinking about the way Jane strips down to a camisole and shorts at the height of the summer, and still complains about the heat, and then asks Darcy to help her apply sunscreen in the same absent-minded way she does everything that doesn't have to do with outer space. Darcy doesn't think Jane even knows how hot she is, or what exactly runs through Darcy's mind while she's rubbing sunscreen on Jane's freckly shoulders.
Darcy can control herself, though. And it is, in Jane's defense, hot as balls in New Mexico.
The two of them plus Erik usually congregate in the workroom or at the diner, where it's nice and air-conditioned. This is where Darcy spends the vast majority of her time, only going back to her crappy apartment to crash on the couch until the sun either rises or sets, depending on their schedule that week, which is not good for her biorhythms, but try telling that to Jane or Erik.
In the sweltering afternoons, Darcy goes to Jane's trailer and sponges off her wi-fi. Jane doesn't mind, probably because Darcy puts her earbuds in and shuts up for a change, and it's nice to have that quiet, happy feeling she gets when she's content and comfortable with someone she knows. She doesn't get that very often, and even though she and Jane argue a lot about the stupidest things, well. Jane is smart and funny and she's never mean, just forgetful, and Darcy likes being friends with her anyway.
. . .
It's disgustingly hot outside - hot like if you left a pot of water on asphalt for long enough, Darcy's pretty sure it would literally boil - and they're in Jane's RV again, except right now her A/C's broken so it's really only a small reprieve from the summer sun. Outside, there might actually be a breeze. But she'd also get sunstroke and dehydration and end up dead, and that would be such a lame way to go. And in here, they've both stripped down to shorts and bras because hey, they're all girls here, and the fewer layers between them and the cool-ish air in here, the better.
"It is so hot," Darcy moans. "I think I'm gonna die."
"You're not going to die." Normally Jane would sound super exasperated with Darcy right now, but the heat's sapped any possible tetchiness right out of her.
"You don't know that," Darcy says, and flops onto the bed right next to Jane. The edge of a spiral notebook impales her stomach, but other than that's it's really comfy. "I'm sensitive. This one time in band camp I got heat stroke and passed out. It sucked majorly."
This has the benefit of being both true and hilarious, but Jane totally misses the reference, asking instead, "You were in band?" Darcy nods. "What did you play?"
"I was in flagline." At Jane's look of incomprehension, she clarifies, "You know, the girls who march with the band spinning flags and looking all pretty?"
"Oh!" Jane rolls over to lay really close to Darcy. Super close. Their bare skin is almost touching. "I always thought those were baton girls."
"No way!" Darcy says indignantly. "Baton girls twirl little stick things. Flag girls spin awesome neon flags. Well, if you're in the right band, otherwise you just get boring school colors."
Jane snorts in laughter, and says, "I was in choir, and we had to wear knee-length black skirts with our school T-shirts for every performance."
"You know, I didn't care much, but looking back, it was really ugly."
Jane giggles. Somewhere along the line they'd scootched even closer, and when Darcy turns her head to face Jane, they're almost nose-to-nose. Darcy can actually see individual hairs sticking to Jane's forehead, and the little beads of sweat on her chest and the hollow of her throat, and that shouldn't be sexy but it totally is.
"We really need a fan," Darcy says, and she's pretty sure this is a really bad idea but Darcy doesn't really do careful planning. She sits up and grabs the spiral notebook out from under her, and unceremoniously rips a handful of pages out.
"Hey!" Jane squawks, bolting upright. "Those are my notes!"
"Relax, woman!" Darcy says emphatically, waving the papers in front of Jane's face. "They're blank. Did you seriously think I'd tear up your notes?"
Okay, maybe if she didn't know what they were. But Jane doesn't have to know that!
"Oh," Jane says, and Darcy gives her a friendly shove.
"Unruffle your feathers, mi amiga," she says, splaying out the papers like a hand of cards, "and I will fan you into ecstasy."
"Ecstasy? Really, Darcy?"
But Jane laughs again (and she's really giggling a lot more than usual, what's up with that?) and lies flat on the bed, her arms above her head. Darcy fans her enthusiastically, watching how her limp hair waves gently in the breeze. Jane sighs, a happy contented murmur, and stretches out. And while that's really hot and all, Darcy wants a little piece of that breeze herself, so she squeezes in close to Jane again, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, and fans them both.
"You're hogging it," Jane says after a few moments, and makes a grab for the fan, nearly flinging herself across Darcy in the process. Darcy snatches it away, and flutters it in front of her face geisha-style, giving Jane her bedroom eyes. Well, they're more like flirting-in-Taco-Bell-at-two-A.M. eyes, but they're the best Darcy can do.
And they totally work. Jane goes a little red, and looks down as if she's suddenly become aware of how she's practically resting her chin on Darcy's boobs. Darcy grins, and runs the paper fan along the edge of Jane's bra band. Jane makes a surprised little sound and shivers, and pushes herself up so she can look Darcy in the eyes.
"What are you doing?" she asks, and Darcy can't read her tone and she's suddenly afraid she's done this all wrong.
"I'm - nothing," she says quickly, then adds, "Or something, you know, depending on what you want to do."
"That's…really not helpful," Jane says after a moment, and at the sight of her cautious face, Darcy shrugs. Jane's never going to come out and say it, so Darcy might as well go for the gold while she's stuck in the awkward Olympics.
"You're really cute," she says. "And you're kind of hitting on me a little, and I'm up for it if you are, but if you're not that's totally okay too."
"Oh, I really - I'm flattered, but…"
Well, shit. Darcy winces, and Jane adds in a hurry, "I just don't want you to think that you have to do this to get a good grade, or because you're my assistant, or - "
Darcy busts out laughing.
"Wait, seriously? That's what's got you all freaked out? Come on, Jane," she adds, a little more serious than usual, "you know I know you wouldn't do that."
"That was convoluted," Jane says with a nervous laugh, and gives Darcy a small smile. "You're right, I wouldn't do that."
"This, though," Darcy says, and leans forward and gives Jane a peck on the lips. "Wanna do this?"
And then they're kissing, and then they're making out, and then they're fumbling with bra clasps and biting and licking at each other's skin, and wow, Darcy would never in a million years have guessed that Jane would be so aggressive, but she totally is, biting Darcy's lower lip and slipping her tongue into Darcy's mouth and she's the first one to get off her bra, then Darcy's, and she presses their breasts together while she sucks on Darcy's tongue. Darcy just lies back and takes it, and it's great.
"Wow," she pants, once they've stopped long enough to actually talk, "I totally thought I'd be your first girl-on-girl experience. This is awesome!"
"I date girls more than boys, usually, so I've got some practice," Jane says, breathless, and wiggles out of her shorts. Darcy is totally okay with that, and does the same.
She was going to say something in reply, but she forgets it in favor of staring at Jane, naked in front of her. Jane's small, Darcy knew that, and she always figured she'd be delicate and fragile-looking under her clothes, but she's not. She's wiry and a little bony, with petite, perky breasts and smooth skin dotted with freckles. She is really, really gorgeous. Darcy's mouth waters at the sight.
"I'd really like to eat you out now," she says. "Is that cool with you?"
"Oh yeah," Jane says enthusiastically, and props herself up against the wall, spreading her legs for Darcy's perusal. And Darcy'd thought she'd be shy?
Darcy kneels between her legs, and spreads her thighs a little wider to watch her open up. Jane doesn't shave or wax, keeping her pubic hair neatly trimmed instead, and when Darcy brushes her fingers over it, it's way softer than most girls' she's touched.
"Sorry about not shaving," Jane says, sounding a little nervous. "I know some people don't like it."
"No, no, it's great," Darcy reassures her, and it totally is. "And anyone who gets this close to your pussy and complains about it should totally have their Jane-sexing license revoked, just FYI."
Jane laughs right when Darcy ducks her head, and it turns into a moan when she slides her tongue between Jane's inner lips and licks her slowly, leisurely, just barely flicking her clit with the tip of her tongue.
"Oh," Jane says, and again, "oh," as Darcy gets into it. She absolutely loves this, loves eating women out, the way they taste and smell and the noises they make, and she puts her neck into it, getting all up in Jane's space. It's easy figuring out what she likes, since Jane isn't subtle about it at all, and Darcy finally lies flat on the bed, spreads Jane's pussy open, and focuses on her clit, kissing it open-mouthed and sucking it into her mouth. Jane moans and squirms and grabs Darcy's hair, directing her to go harder. Darcy obeys, practically rubbing her face against Jane's slick folds, humming and moaning and letting those vibrations carry through to Jane's body. Darcy's humping the bed a little herself, thinking of Jane and how she must look right now, and getting wetter and wetter by the minute.
"Now," Jane gasps, "inside of me, please - "
Darcy almost does, then stops and sits up. "You have a dildo or anything?"
"Just use your fingers!"
"Have you seen my nails?" Darcy holds her hands up for examination. "Do you really want these WMDs inside you?"
"Well, figure something out!" snaps Jane, and apparently a Jane close to orgasm and not getting it is a very cranky Jane. Darcy stands up and lurches into the bathroom, which is luckily about one step away, making a mental note to file her nails down later as short as she can get them. She comes back brandishing a hairbrush in triumph.
"Will this work?" she asks Jane, and Jane beams.
"It's perfect," she says, and just as Darcy sits down again, licking her lips, she adds worriedly, "Oh my god, wait, we need to sterilize it or something."
"Seriously?" For a while there, Darcy thought she was living in a porno, but there's no way a porno would have this many roadblocks on the way to hot 'n' sexy penetration. "Well, do you have any condoms?"
"Great idea," Jane replies, already rummaging through the mess that's slowly devouring her bedside table. "Here you go!"
Darcy opens the package and rolls the latex sleeve down the handle of the hairbrush expertly, and pushes Jane flat again.
"Okay, take two," she says, and goes to town.
She takes her time warming Jane up again, teasing her until Jane's tugging at her hair and her grunts and whimpers have nearly turned to ones of annoyance, then she angles the hairbrush, handle pointing toward Jane, and slides it home.
This time, Jane moans long, loud, and sexy, and lifts her lips to meet Darcy's thrust.
"That's good," she whispers, "okay, a little more - "
Darcy gives her wrist a workout, shoving the brush handle inside her and twisting until she reaches Jane's g-spot, loving the sounds she gets every time she hits that sweet place. Jane's balled her hands into fists, yanking at Darcy's hair, and Darcy's leaning in and licking Jane's clit as best she can, in syncopated rhythm to her thrusts with the brush.
Darcy can see it when Jane starts to come, her abs tensing and her legs going rigid, toes curling; she clamps down so hard on the handle of the brush that Darcy can barely move it, so she just keeps going with shallow little movements while Jane shudders, her hands clenched in the sheets. Then she relaxes, and Darcy slips the brush out of her and takes off the condom, tossing it in the direction of the trash can.
"Did you make it?" asks Jane, breathless.
"Do you doubt me?" Darcy retorts, and swoops in to kiss Jane again. Jane licks at the mess she's made of Darcy's face before kissing her chin, her cheeks, then finally her lips.
"You are so cool," Darcy burbles happily, sighing in pleasure as Jane cups her breasts, rubbing her palms across her nipples. "You're like the hottest chick I've ever slept with and you're so awesome!"
"Well, same to you," says Jane, and Darcy knows Jane is a terrible liar so it must be true. Darcy smiles at her. It's one of the nicest things someone's said about her. Sexually speaking, at least. And speaking of sex, Darcy's dripping wet and unfulfilled, but she's not entirely sure how to ask Jane to let her sit on her face.
"Here," says Jane, after they've kissed for a while, slow, sweet and sloppy. She makes Darcy go up on her knees from where she was perched between Jane's legs, then grabs one of Darcy's legs and slings it over her thigh. Darcy almost loses her balance, but then her pussy comes straight into contact with Jane's and she gets what's going on.
"Ohh," she says, and moves her hips. The slick wet slide is the exact right amount of stimulation for her, not direct but not too light, and she braces her hands on the wall behind Jane.
"Yeah," Jane says, voice husky, and guides the rhythm of Darcy's hips until it's just about perfect, sweet friction at just the right angle. Darcy's not used to being manhandled (womanhandled?), and it's not like she's big but Jane is tiny compared to her, and definitely not the person Darcy would expect to be yanking her around. Darcy likes bossy Jane. She feels the hard nub of Jane's clit press directly against hers, and she gasps and grinds down hard. It's a little awkward but it feels way too good to care, and it only takes her about a minute to come for the first time.
"That was quick," says Jane, once they've detangled themselves and are sitting slumped together and panting.
"Yeah, I'm easy," Darcy says. "But hey, multiple orgasms!"
"Me, too," and Jane gets a smile on her face that ends up somewhere between diffident and wicked. "Want to see how many?"
"Bet I can beat you," Darcy says immediately, and reaches for the hairbrush again.
"I'll take that bet," Jane says, and grabs her around the waist, toppling them both into the wall.
. . .
Jane has a clock somewhere in here, Darcy has an iPod, and they both have cell phones, but neither of them wants to move to see what time it is. Darcy suspects they've spent an embarrassing amount of time fucking in the trailer, and she kind of hopes no one (meaning Erik) happened to swing by while they were…well, being loud.
"There's supposed to be a storm today," Jane says, tracing lazy circles on Darcy's shoulder.
"Oh, please let it happen. I need the rain," Darcy says into the pillow, and as if on cue, thunder rumbles and the sky decides to dump water down on them.
Sitting up, Darcy rakes her hands through her hair and cheers. "Praise be to God, for he hath openeth the heavens upon us and stuff!"
"I love the way it sounds," says Jane dreamily. "I bet it smells wonderful outside."
They eye each other, then their clothes, scattered around the tiny room. There's a long pause, and then Darcy shouts, "Last one out's a rotten egg!" and they break into a scramble, giggling and stealing shirts and underwear from each other.
Darcy doesn't make a habit out of sleeping with the people she works with, and she knows that she and Jane are going to bicker and needle each other nonstop just like before, but when they run out into the rain, flinging their arms wide and sticking out her tongue, all she can think about is how weird and fun this internship is and how much she likes Jane, and she decides it's totally worth it.
This is the best summer ever.