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The short walk to Trixie’s place had done little to shake Katya’s nerves. Now she stood on her front porch, too self-conscious to stretch in place, one hand clicking the pen she kept in the front pocket of her overnight bag. She’d already rung the doorbell. Considered texting.
She’d only been to Trixie’s once before, and that had been with a group of four other sophomore girls. They hadn’t even been to Trixie’s bedroom, just hung out in the downstairs family room with sleeping bags, a few movies from Blockbuster, and the pink birthday cake that Kim had made for her with nineteen pink birthday candles.
Her grandparents had been home that time — Katya met them only briefly. Tonight, the driveway was deserted, but that could mean anything.
Through the window over the big wooden doors, Katya saw her shape descend the carpeted stairs. There was a pause before the door snicked open like Trixie was looking through the peephole.
She was in pajamas already. “Katya, hi!”
“Hey.” Katya was ushered inside, the air warmer and stiller in contrast to the late September evening. Katya shucked off her leather jacket immediately, feeling overdressed. “Should I take off my shoes?”
“Yeah, sure, I was thinking we could just go upstairs…”
The second level was all carpeted — no shoes allowed. Katya remembered this from last time, an aside made by Trixie’s grandmother. Faintly, Katya heard music playing from a room upstairs. This house smelled perfumed and old, sort of flowery. For a moment, Katya just reveled in it: it smelled just like Trixie, who was standing there under the hall light in a teensy pair of pink flannel shorts and a lacy tank top, looking right at home. Katya tugged off her combat boots and was instantly made an inch shorter in socks with a lot of middle-fingers on them. Trixie smiled like she was teasing Katya, but also like Katya was in on the joke. Confusing.
They were nearly silent going up the stairs, that plush carpeting that absorbs all noise. Katya, following her, was completely focused on keeping her eyes to herself. Trixie, swinging her hips. She knew Katya was a dyke. What was this?
“I don’t know what I’d do if I had to live in the dorms,” she was saying. “You can come over anytime, you know, just to get out of there. My grandparents like you.” A bird-like, shaking laugh. “They said you were sweet. Polite. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Lots of people think I’m sweet.”
“Oh, sure.”
“You just bring out the worst in me.”
Trixie pushed open the door at the end of the hall, grinning at Katya over her shoulder. “I think it’s mutual.”
Trixie’s room was like something out of a magazine. It was so manicured, so curated, that Katya found herself afraid to disturb it.
“Katya?” Trixie laughed. “Why are you just standing there?”
Katya saw where Trixie had curled up in a beanbag chair on the tufted rug. She stepped inside and gently shut the bedroom door behind her. All of Trixie’s skin looked satiny like she’d just moisturized. She still had her hair up in a bumpit.
“I’ve never been up here before,” said Katya.
Trixie crossed her long, smooth legs. “Do you like it?”
The ceiling was sloped, stuccoed. A little pink chandelier hung from the center. Mosquito netting over the bed, eyelet window treatments. Katya touched the head of a giant Pink Panther sitting on another beanbag chair.
“I won him at Dave and Buster’s,” Trixie explained.
“Will he object to being moved?”
“Just chuck him on the bed.” Trixie scooted her own beanbag closer so that, when Katya sat down, their knees were touching — bare skin to black skinny jeans.
“Your room is gorgeous,” Katya said honestly. “I’ve never been in a room this nice.”
Trixie smiled crookedly. “Thanks. I really wanted to show it to you, ‘cause you’re an artist.”
“I’m honored to be allowed in the inner sanctum. Really.”
With obvious caution, Trixie went on: “Yeah, I don’t let people up here a lot. Just Kim, sometimes.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded.
Katya looked around some more. The most impressive display were the walls, which were painted pink, stencilled with pastel flowers, and decorated with postcards, ticket stubs, photographs, magazine clippings, and pages torn from old books. Katya bobbed her head to the Spice Girls song playing on Trixie’s CD player, and when it ended, Trixie got up and removed it.
“Any requests?”
“What else do you have?”
Trixie hummed. Katya heard the snap-snap of her flipping through CD cases. “Liz Phair… Nelly Furtado — Loose, I really like that one… Um, Sheryl Crow, Shakira… These aren’t actually alphabetized. You like Sinéad O’Connor, right?”
“Yeah, do you have her?”
“Mhm. I got the one you were telling me about, uh, Lion and the Cobra. I don’t have any Russian pop, though, sorry.”
Katya laughed, a little jittery at her taste being taken so seriously. “Let’s do the one you like. Loose? Let’s listen to that.”
“Okay.” Trixie’s voice was abruptly rough, and she cleared her throat as she put on the CD. “I almost got that t.A.T.u. album you like — I saw it at Goodwill.”
“Oh!” Katya laughed. “The gay one!"
“Yeah,” laughed Trixie. “Yeah, that one. But it was all scratched, so.”
“Aw, damn. You can always borrow mine, you know. I copy everything to my iPod, anyway.”
Trixie settled down in the beanbag, closer this time and turned on her side, twisting the soft synthetic down of the fabric between her fingers. “I should let you borrow some of my stuff, and then you can copy it on your iPod. And then while you’re doing one of your paintings, some Sheryl Crow song will come on and it’ll make your art all girly and romantic.”
Katya laughed.
“I’m rambling,” said Trixie. She put a hand on her cheek as though to check her temperature. “Sorry.”
“I like this,” said Katya, nodding at the CD player.
“She’s great.” Trixie smiled. “I saw her in concert a few years ago. The ticket’s up on the wall somewhere.”
“You go to a lot of concerts,” Katya observed.
“Yeah, well.” Trixie shrugged. “I’m a musician, so. Or, aspiring to be.”
Katya knew this. She stayed up at night imagining it: Trixie in a little pink dress, hair blown out, dancing around in a pair of go-go boots. The way her eyes might close in bliss as she sang.
“So the dream is to have a ticket to your own concert up here someday.”
Trixie laughed. “How am I supposed to go to my own concert?”
“Can’t you just invite someone and ask them to save it for you?”
“So I’ll invite you, and then you’ll give me your ticket afterward.”
“Okay, deal. Will you still be living here then?”
Trixie made a face. “I really don’t wanna leave this room. It’s my pride and joy… But yeah, I’ll have moved out by then, I guess.”
“You wanna move to Los Angeles, right?”
Trixie shrugged, though her giddiness at the sheer prospect betrayed her. “I mean… We’ll see. Kim said she’d share an apartment with me when the time comes, if I’m not seeing someone by then.”
Katya’s chest panged. “Right.”
“What about you? What’s your plan?”
Katya laughed nervously. “Now I feel bad for asking you. It’s a hard question. Um, is it acceptable to say that I don’t really know?”
“That’s acceptable,” Trixie laughed. “I just wanna get to know you better.”
“Oh,” said Katya, pleasantly surprised.
“Is that weird?” Trixie giggled. “I just — I know we’re friends, kinda, but we don’t spend a lot of time together one-on-one. I guess that’s why I invited you here.”
“Right. I guess you’re usually with Kim or Pearl or…”
“And you’re usually with Violet or Alaska or one of those girls from the dorm.”
“Yeah. I’d probably see you more if you lived on campus, honestly.”
Trixie pouted. “I know. I feel like I miss out on so much.”
“You don’t, really. Just shared showers and babysitting drunks.”
“Shared showers?” Trixie waggled her eyebrows.
“Not like that.” Katya rolled her eyes, laughing. “I mean, maybe. I wouldn’t know. You’d think I had swine flu, the way girls won’t touch me with a ten-foot-pole.”
“That’s not true. You had that thing with Violet.”
“Eh. That wasn’t real. We were just messing around.”
“Hm,” said Trixie. She pinched a mosquito bite on her ankle. “So, um.” She took a deep breath. “So — So I have some nail polish, if you wanna paint nails? And then, I was thinking we could watch a movie, or something.”
“Oh! I’d like that.”
“Yeah?”
“What movie were you thinking?”
“Um, so —“ Trixie got up from the beanbag chair with an oof and opened the dresser against the wall, where she had a big pink television set up inside. She lifted a handful of DVD cases from the top and knelt by Katya to show them to her. “I rented a few that I thought you might like. I thought we could choose together.”
Katya’s heart fluttered. She tried not to read too much into it: Trixie was just being nice and cute and earnest the way she got sometimes. Katya looked at the lines of her knuckles, the shapes of her nails. There was that time they were partners in Intro to Drawing and drew each other’s hands. That had probably been the experience that cemented Katya’s crush.
“These all look good,” she said, because she forgot to pay attention to the titles. “Let’s do one that we’re less excited about, because then we can talk over it and paint our nails without fucking up.”
Trixie smiled like this was a terribly smart thing to say. “Okay! Wait, actually, have you seen Rocky Horror?”
Katya flicked her arm. “Yes, bitch, I saw you in it, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Katya was faintly shocked that Trixie seemed to have forgotten: Katya would never forget her in the role of Janet, lipsyncing ‘Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me’ in a demure yellow bra, the look of surprise on her face when Katya thrust a bouquet of pink Safeway roses at her afterward in the crowded hall, their friends everywhere around them, laughing, jubilant. “Well, I own a copy, so let’s just watch that.”
Katya chose red for her own nails; Trixie chose pink for hers. Trixie laid down the funny pages of the newspaper so they could do each other’s nails on the rug. They were sort of watching the movie, sort of not. Trixie had this habit of leaning over and squishing her boobs between her arms, and the way she was lying on her stomach, propped up by her elbows, meant that Katya had to concentrate hard on looking only at Trixie’s fingernails and not where her skin looked so inviting, soft enough to bite. Under the alcoholic stench of the nail polish, which Trixie had cracked open the window to dispel, there was the sticky-sweet smell of Trixie’s lotion — Warm Vanilla Sugar from Bath & Body Works. Trixie’s signature. So femme that it made Katya’s head spin.
“So, I didn’t bring a sleeping bag,” Katya began, already wondering how much she’d ache at night thinking of Trixie in her little pajama set nearby. “But I could borrow one of yours, if that’s fine.”
“My bed’s huge,” said Trixie. “I figured we could just share.”
“Oh. That’s nice of you. Are you sure?”
Trixie used a q-tip to clean up one of Katya’s nails. For one second, while Trixie concentrated, Katya allowed herself to look at her breasts.
“Positive,” said Trixie. “Don’t worry; I keep to myself.”
Katya could not stop thinking about how Trixie said she rarely had people up here. “Me, too. I sleep like a corpse, actually.”
Trixie laughed quietly, her breath warm on Katya’s hands. “Sometimes I toss and turn. I’m like the princess and the pea. If things aren’t exactly right, I can’t fall asleep.”
“And having me in bed won’t upset that delicate balance?”
Trixie clicked her tongue. “Definitely not. Okay, let me do a top coat, and then you’re all done.” Trixie screwed the bottle tightly shut and replaced it in the basket of polishes. “I wish I had cute little stickers we could put on top… The red is already so nice on you, though.”
Katya smiled. It was the color she always chose. “I like your pink.”
Trixie hummed, looking at it in the light. “You did a good job. I wish I had little Hello Kitties for the thumbs. Or rhinestones.”
Katya had noticed that Trixie’s fingernails were much shorter than usual. She didn’t mention this in case Trixie took it poorly: her nails were usually long and manicured, well-kept.
“I’m not used to them being this short,” Trixie volunteered instead.
“Trying something new?”
“Kind of. I think I thought that having long nails would make people want to take care of me. Which makes me sound like a big baby, but sometimes that’s what I want. To be useless, you know.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Katya said warmly. She was always begging Trixie to take a break between work, school, and her myriad extracurriculars. “What changed your mind about having long nails? Felt too useful?”
“No, it’s just that — I’m not getting a lot of action, and it’s kind of impractical to finger myself with claws.” Trixie’s hand shook around the brush; she huffed and thumbed away the mistake. “I’m sure you know what I mean. Isn’t there that stereotype that — that lesbians have shorter nails for that reason? For their girlfriends, I mean.”
Katya laughed loudly. “Oh my god, Trix.”
Trixie shrugged, giggling. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Look at your nails.”
“Maybe I just like them that way.”
“Yeah, to fuck girls with.”
It was lucky that Katya knew Trixie had other gay friends, or she might worry she was being had. Instead, Trixie’s tone was friendly — flirtatious, even, which was possibly worse.
“Not all lesbians have short nails,” said Katya, though it felt weird to say that, like it was something she would have said in high school when she was still closeted.
“I know that,” Trixie said, seeming to take some offense. “Obviously I know that.” When she finished up the top coat, Trixie closed the bottle and put it away. “Blow on your nails, now.”
Katya curled her fingers in and obeyed, watching Trixie rise groaningly from the rug to put the basket of nail polish away in the vanity. She pulled at her pink shorts where they’d ridden up her ass.
“Careful with your nails,” Katya said without thinking. Trixie’s cellulite looked soft and edible as a ripe nectarine.
Trixie glanced back at her. “I know.” She got on her knees to mess with something in the back of a cabinet, and Katya had to look away. “Do you want lotion for your hands? I have a bunch.”
“Sure,” Katya said to the rug.
“Okay, what scent do you want? I have Sweet Pea, Pink Chiffon, Warm Vanilla Sugar… Oh, I have this old one from Limited Too, but I don’t think it’s really your vibe. Maybe you’d like one from Victoria’s Secret.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
“Okay, um…” Katya had learned early on that a sure way to please Trixie was to let her pick something out for you. “This one’s a bit mature on me, but I think it’ll suit you really well.”
“Are you calling me old?”
Trixie knelt in front of her and examined her hands, touching her pinky nail very lightly to test for wetness. “No,” she laughed quietly. “But you know what I mean.” She laid Katya’s hands on her own thighs and began massaging some silky white cream into each of them. “Your cuticles are all shredded.”
“I get anxious,” Katya reminded her. Trixie knew she took meds for anxiety.
“About what?”
“Anything. Everything.”
“School?”
“Sure.”
When the lotion was all rubbed in, Trixie put on another coat. Katya didn’t question it.
“Sometimes,” Trixie began, “I worry about… lying.”
Katya frowned. “Do you think I’m lying to you?”
“No! Not you. I meant I’m worried about myself lying.”
“Worried that you’ll… lie? Or about lies you’ve already told?”
Trixie hummed and finally put down Katya’s hands. Katya sat up so they could speak at eye level: this seemed serious. She stayed very quiet and let Trixie twiddle her thumbs while she decided what to say next.
“It’s not that I’ve outright lied,” she said. “It’s just that I haven’t corrected anyone.”
The answer came to Katya. It couldn’t be, but it had to be, unless there was something else she wasn’t thinking of.
“Whatever it is, it’s fine,” said Katya, trying to say what she herself would want to hear. “And you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
Trixie’s eyes welled with tears. “I do want to. It’s just — Kim and my grandparents know. And a few other people who I don’t talk to anymore. But nobody — none of our friends —“
“Hey.” Katya tried to communicate peace and compassion with her eyes. She didn’t want to touch Trixie, in case she thought — “I have no intention of, like, selling you out to the tabloids for an easy buck. You know, once you’re famous.”
Trixie laughed wetly, wiped her eyes. “You already know, don’t you?”
Katya stared at her.
“You know what I am.”
“I mean…”
Trixie sobbed. She was laughing, too. “I can’t even say it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I want to. It’s not like I’m ashamed of it.”
“Really? I was. I am.”
Trixie made big eyes at her. “What? Why?”
Katya shrugged. “Catholic school? Society?”
“Oh, right. I always forget you went to Catholic school.” Trixie sniffled. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying. I really wanted to tell you.”
“Is that why you invited me over?”
“It’s not the only reason. But it’s one of them, sure.” Trixie stood up. “Ugh, this room smells like nail polish. Do you mind if I turn on the fan?”
“No, go ahead.” Katya bunched up the newspaper and their soiled q-tips to throw away. “Is there a trash can in here?”
“Under my desk.”
Even the trashcan was pink. “Can I ask you something?”
Once Trixie had the overhead fan going, she pulled a fuzzy blanket off her bed and a pillow shaped like a tube of lipgloss. She curled up with them in a beanbag chair, so Katya dragged over the other one and followed suit.
“Sure, whatever,” said Trixie. “Are you cold, by the way?”
“No, I’m fine.” Katya was glad for the cool air: she always got sweaty around Trixie. “Um — I guess this is the cliché question, but how long have you known?”
Trixie shrugged, smirking now. “Literally since the day I was born. I don’t know. It was always so obvious. What about you?”
“I’ve told you the story before.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“With that girl on LiveJournal? Really? I never told you?”
“Tell me again.”
“Okay, well, I was fifteen, and I wrote fanfiction about Kirk and Spock. I would post it on LiveJournal. I had a few readers, nothing crazy. But there was this girl who would comment on everything, and she wrote stuff, too. So we got to talking, and I find out she’s my age and goes to school a few states over. We would send letters to each other, I mean, Vita and Virginia shit. She told me she was questioning, and I told her that I was, too. We would get on IM and roleplay these sexy scenes — we were the characters, but we weren’t, obviously. I wanted to fuck her so bad — I was always the top when we IM’d. And, I don’t know. I never met her. I freaked out and disappeared on her, deleted all my accounts. I was afraid someone would find out.”
Trixie pouted. “You just stopped talking to her?”
“I know, I know. What if I looked her up now and she’s dead in a ditch somewhere?”
“Do you miss her?”
Katya shrugged.
“Sorry, that was a weird question. Wouldn’t it be crazy if I was her? If I befriended you and knew who you were all along.”
“Is this where you exact your revenge?”
Trixie grinned. “Yeah, I’m going to smother you with this pillow.”
“You’ll wait until I’m asleep, though.”
“Oh, sure. And in the morning I’ll call the cops and say I found you like that.”
“Yeah, are you gonna bring out the waterworks and everything?”
“They’ll wrap me in one of those blankets they give to people in shock.”
Katya squirmed with laughter. “The picture of innocence.”
“Oh, hysterical. Mascara running. Donna Hayward when she gets the news about Laura, and she’s sobbing in the middle of class.”
Katya squealed. She loved Twin Peaks. “You poor thing.”
The movie had finished. Trixie got up and turned off the television, still giggling. “You should come over more often. Now that you know I’m — Now that you know, there’s so much we can talk about.”
Katya smiled. “You said Kim knows, right?”
“Yeah, she’s known for ages.”
“Does Violet know? Or — I’m trying to remember who else we know who’s gay.”
Trixie hummed. “Violet doesn’t know. I don’t really tell most people. I think that would change if I was, you know, dating someone. I’d want to be public about it.”
“Pearl’s bi.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. I know. She doesn’t know about me, if that’s what you mean.”
Now Katya was trying to figure out why Trixie would tell her. They were friends, sure, but they weren’t nearly as close as Kim and Trixie were, not even as close as Trixie was with her other queer friends. “So Kim’s the only one who knows?”
Trixie made an impatient sound. “And my grandparents. Yeah. They wouldn’t have let you sleep over, but they’re on a weekend trip, so.”
“Because you’re gay?”
“You’re gay. I’m gay. We’re alone in my room behind a closed door.”
“Right.” Katya felt herself sweating despite the chill in the air. She wiped her clammy palms on her jeans to dry them. “What do you do if you want to have someone over? Do you just go to their place?”
“Yeah, or I wait for my grandparents to go on a weekend trip.” Trixie laughed. “Not that I’ve gotten much action lately.” She wiggled her fingernails at Katya. “Remember?”
“Why’d you keep your nails long if you were trying to attract lesbians?”
“Some of us like to be taken care of.”
Katya stared at her. “I’ve heard about girls like you.”
“Oh yeah?” Trixie rolled her eyes huffily. “Say whatever you want. I’ve heard it all.”
“You don’t want to do any of the work. You just want to lie back and look pretty while some lucky bitch fucks you, right?”
“Some people like that in a girl.”
“I know,” said Katya. Obviously, she knew. “Is it exhausting to touch yourself? Does your wrist cramp up?”
“Sometimes.” Trixie sighed, tilting her head so her smooth neck was exposed. “I don’t always use my hand, though.”
“A vibrator?”
She shook her head. “I ride my pillow.”
Katya looked at the one she was holding. Long and narrow with a firm shape, it was perfect.
“Don’t worry,” Trixie rushed to say. Her cheeks glowed pink. “I always have underwear on. I wouldn’t —“
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t judge you.”
“You don’t think I’m a freak?” Trixie crossed her arms over her chest.
Katya shook her head. “I’m worse. When I get off, I imagine I have a dick.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I wish I really had one, just to top with. I guess that’s what strap-ons are for.”
“Is that your favorite? Topping with a strap?”
“I just like to service,” said Katya. “Whatever she wants, she gets.”
Trixie covered her smile with her hand. “That’s what I thought.”
Katya laughed, confident that Trixie wanted her. “I guess we’d complement each other.”
“What? Sexually?”
Katya nodded. “You don’t think so?”
Trixie sat up a little in her beanbag chair. “No, I — I do think so.”
Katya made some quick calculations. The window was open. Trixie’s grandparents weren’t home. The room was clean; the bed was made. Katya’s nail polish was dry.
“Are you cold?” she asked, standing up. “Do you mind if I close the window?”
“No, go ahead.”
“I was thinking,” Katya said as she tugged the curtains shut, “if you’re interested, you could get on the bed and tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”
“Like —?”
Katya turned to her. “It could be nothing. It could be that you want me to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” said Trixie. “Why do you think I showed you my room? I like you, Katya.”
Katya put a hand on the windowsill for balance. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, I’m telling you.”
“Is that why you invited me?”
“It’s why I’ve been talking to you for months. I thought you’d have realized by now. I bought the CD you recommended.”
“That’s friendly.”
“I kept the shirt you left here on my birthday and lied about it. The Paramore one. I don’t even like Paramore.”
“That’s where that went? Wait, I like that shirt. Can I have it back?”
Trixie glared at her. “No. But I’ll trade it for the one you have on now.”
“Now, Miss Mattel. Are you gonna get on the bed or do I have to do all the work around here?”
Trixie grinned as she stood up, dragging the blanket with her to the bed and wedging the lipgloss pillow behind her back — presumably for lumbar support. Katya made to join her.
“Wait,” said Trixie. “Can you take off your jeans? Since you were wearing them outside…”
Katya popped the button and peeled out of them. “You’re worried about getting the bed dirty? You’re the one riding pillows, mama.”
“That’s different,” Trixie pouted, but she mustn’t have been that upset, because her legs spread when Katya got up beside her. “Take your socks off, too. And your shirt.”
Katya stripped down to her American Apparel underwear, wary of the dampness between her legs. Trixie reached out and looked at her; Katya nodded.
“You’re wet,” Trixie breathed as her hand made contact, cupping her where she was warmest.
Katya moved between her legs so that Trixie had to withdraw her hand. “Are you gonna let me take off your clothes?”
Trixie lifted her hips obligingly and allowed Katya to pull down her pink pajama shorts. Her underwear was so pretty that Katya smirked: Trixie had planned for this.
“These are cute,” said Katya, running a finger under the waistband.
Trixie struggled up and pulled her tank top over her head, braless. As she lay back down, she took the clips out of her hair and tossed them on the bedside table. “You can take off my underwear,” she said.
When Katya peeled them down her hips, the gusset pulled stickily away, clinging by a thread of cum. Katya held the lacy garment in her hands for a moment, looking.
“Ew, what are you doing?” giggled Trixie.
Katya wanted to taste them, so she did. The smell got her so worked up that she shifted over so she could grind on her own leg.
“Ew, Katya,” Trixie gasped. Her thighs clamped around her.
Katya grinned. “What? You taste good.”
“Oh my god.”
“You wanna try?” She brought them to Trixie, who cringed but opened her mouth anyway. “Smell first.” Trixie squeezed her eyes shut, whining; gently, Katya took her chin and pushed the panties into her mouth. “Good girl. Don’t you taste good?”
Trixie spat them out of her mouth, making a face of displeasure. Her cheeks were flushed deeply; spit shined her lips. She looked so cute that Katya bent down and kissed her.
“You’re perfect,” she muttered in the instant that their lips were separated.
Trixie made a desperate sound and pulled Katya’s face into hers. Her legs spread under her, calves wrapping around to hold her in place. Gasping, she worked at the clasp of Katya’s bra.
“Take this off,” she managed.
Katya sat up to help her. When they kissed again, their bare chests moved together. Katya pressed Trixie’s breasts together and buried her face in them, deeply breathing in her warmth and sweet girlish scent. When she mouthed at her nipples, she tasted the chemicals in her lotion, and underneath it the salt of Trixie’s skin.
“I should wash my hands if I’m going to fuck you with them.”
“Just use your mouth,” said Trixie, nudging Katya farther down between her legs. “Since you like the taste of me so much.”
Katya grasped her fleshy thighs in her hands and pushed them back. It made Trixie whimper, cunt shining wet and asshole fluttering where she lay exposed beneath her. Katya licked a clean stripe through the slick and set her mouth over Trixie’s clit to kiss and gently suck.
Trixie’s legs started trembling. “Oh, Katya…”
Katya dug her freshly varnished nails into the meat of her thighs. She could feel Trixie arching into her then giving up like it was too much work. She moaned without pause and writhed inconsolably.
“More, more,” she kept saying, and finally Katya detached herself and looked at her.
“What do you want?” she panted, licking her swollen lips. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue?”
Trixie whined brattishly.
“What?”
“Can you use the strap in my drawer?”
Katya leaned over the bed and opened the bedside table. “Is this gonna fit me?” she asked, dangling the tangle of pleather over the mattress.
“It’s adjustable.”
There were a few dildos in the drawer, vibrators, plugs. “Which of these do you want?” asked Katya, picking up a heart-shaped plug. Her heart leapt in her chest imagining it inside Trixie. “Do you use this?”
“What kind of question is that?” laughed Trixie. “No, it’s somebody else’s.”
“Can I put this in you?” Katya cringed at herself.
“Yeah, just stick it in me.” Trixie rolled her eyes. “Go nuts.”
There was Spencer’s brand lube in the drawer. Katya slicked up the plug and brushed the head of it wetly over Trixie’s hole.
“Cold,” she complained, but she drew her knees back in invitation, so Katya slowly — so slowly — pushed it in. When it was all inside, she writhed on the bed, moaning and rubbing her face in her pillow. Katya pushed on the little heart-shaped knob and watched her cheeks flush hot. “Katya,” she groaned. “Fuck me already.”
There was some commotion as Katya adjusted the harness, Trixie meanwhile growing so impatient that she snatched up her lipgloss pillow and squeezed it between her thighs, gyrating on her side as Katya looked on, frustrated.
“Which of those dildos do you want?” Katya asked when the harness lay snug across her hips.
“The red one,” said Trixie. She kicked the pillow away and moved over so Katya could lie between her legs. “Come on, hurry up.”
Katya bent Trixie’s leg back and used her other hand to drag the head of the strap through her cum. When she stopped at Trixie’s entrance, she looked at her: Trixie jerked her chin in a nod.
“Please,” she said.
Katya slid inside her. She went slow enough that Trixie could have stopped her at any point, but she didn’t — she wrapped her leg around Katya and urged her forward until their hips touched. Katya leaned down on her forearms and kissed her. While she licked into her hot mouth, she started fucking her.
“Yes,” gasped Trixie. Her hand flew down to rub her clit, but Katya batted it away.
“Hold your legs back for me.”
Trixie hooked her elbow around her knees, and Katya sat up to look at her, readjusting when the strap slipped out. Trixie’s lush hair was wild on her silk pillowcase. Her breasts moved like water. Katya thumbed her clit as she fucked her, enjoying Trixie’s expressions when the angle was just right. It was when she reached around and tugged on that cute plug that Trixie came, moaning so loudly that Katya glanced at the window to make sure it was really closed.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she gasped as she came down, Katya slowing inside of her. Her feet dropped down to the mattress; she slung an arm over her face and smiled.
Katya stroked her sides. “What else can I do for you?”
Trixie turned her head and looked at her. Her body inflated quickly, still catching her breath. There was such a sweet flush to her face that Katya had to reach out and touch it.
“Can you wash the toys for me?” Trixie bit her lip. It was frankly irresistible.
“Yeah, sure.” Katya slid out and popped the strap out of the O-ring. Trixie whimpered when Katya got to work on the plug.
“You can leave that one in,” she said.
Katya pressed on it gently. “Okay.”
When she was done in the bathroom, toys drying on the sink, Katya joined Trixie under the covers and spooned her.
“I have a crush on you,” she confessed, finger-combing her hair.
Trixie giggled. “Since when?”
“Since — I don’t know. Maybe since that drawing class we took together last year.”
“That was first semester.”
“Yeah.”
Trixie gave a happy-sounding sigh. “You don’t have class until late tomorrow, right? We should go somewhere.”
Katya paused. “Like a date?”
“Yeah.” Trixie turned in her arms to face her. The tip of her nose was pink. “Do you want to? I was serious about being public.”
“So that was about me, huh?”
Trixie smiled. “Maybe I wanna get ice cream with you at the mall.”
“Are we in high school?” Katya teased her, heart racing.
“Fine, we’ll get coffee.”
“I was just kidding,” said Katya. “I’m dying to go to the mall with you.”
“Okay, good, because there’s a sale at Hot Topic and it made me think of you.”