The Funny Thing About Love
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual, Romantic, TransGender, First, Oral Sex, Petting,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A teenage girl meets the love of her life when her older sister brings a pretty coed home from college. Unfortunately, love isn't always as simple as it should be and this time it's going to be extra complicated.
I met Lauren shortly after my seventeenth birthday. She was already twenty-years-old and a friend and classmate of my older sister. Exactly how they met or why they became so close was never really explained. I like to imagine that Paula only wanted to annoy our parents, but the truth is that she'd always been most interested in people who were different. And she loved making trouble for me, of course.
"Lauren's kind of different," Paula confided to me over the phone. "I don't know what Mom and Dad will say, but you have to promise me you'll be nice. Okay?"
"They won't even be here," I reminded her.
Our parents were planning a second honeymoon in Hawaii and despite my age, they'd insisted that Paula stay with me while they were gone. The trip happily coincided with Spring Break and they were probably worried about their oldest daughter appearing in a Girls Gone Wild video. This way they could kill two birds with one stone, or something. I didn't pretend to understand my parents. I only hoped they knew Paula had decided to bring along a friend and I wondered how strange a college coed could be.
"Different how?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
"You'll see," she replied, refusing to elaborate. My sister only laughed as I peppered her with questions. She liked to tease me that way.
We were very close, you know. We were sisters, but that doesn't explain it. Perhaps because we were separated by three years helped. Any more or less than that might have turned us away from each other, but as it was I admired Paula. Grudgingly perhaps, but only because I was the little sister and kind of jealous too. She'd been popular in high school, a cheerleader and very attractive. She encouraged me to follow in her footsteps, but also to be my own person. I was a cheerleader, well-liked by my classmates, and beautiful in my own way.
Where Paula was a tall brunette with hazel eyes and a reasonable complexion, I'd always been petite. My hair was long and thick, chestnut brown to compliment my green eyes, and my skin had a pale, translucent quality. My friends called me Snow White and I didn't tan in the summer; I broiled like a lobster and so I'd learned to enjoy the great indoors. That was our biggest difference. You couldn't keep Paula in the house and I'll never forget the envy I often felt for her bronzed body. She was an athletic girl, but I became something of a bookworm, at turns amusing and confusing my friends. A geek cheerleader? Right.
At the time, as a high school junior, I was dating a boy named Brad. He played football and I suppose that's the only reason we were going out together. It sounds dumb, but it's true. The prettiest girl in school, captain of the JV cheerleading squad, was expected to date a handsome, athletic jock. We were brought together by circumstance, peer pressure rather than genuine emotion, and after only a few months I was ready to look for someone else. It would be slightly embarrassing when we broke up, but this was high school and a week later the kids would have something else to gossip about. I hoped.
Brad wouldn't mind. He never understood why I got annoyed every time we made out. It had something to do with his hands pawing at my tits, or worse, his fingers trying to force their way between my thighs. It wasn't that I didn't like sex. I was curious about it like any girl my age would be, but I had no desire to give myself to a boy I didn't really like in the first place. I only let him kiss me because I wanted to see if that intimacy would somehow change my mind. It didn't and he always spoiled it by trying to feel me up. Stupid Brad.
I'll admit I felt more than slightly curious about other girls. I suppose it's only natural because my best friends were girls and I felt most comfortable being with them. Marcia and Lisa had always been close to me, and with each other. My dad called us the Three Musketeers, largely because he lacked the imagination for anything better. I also think my two friends intimidated him once they hit puberty, perhaps I did as well. It may have only been coincidence, but Marcia and Lisa were every bit as attractive as me and we were all blooming quickly through middle school. My poor dad would blush every time they stayed over for a slumber party, the three of us parading through the house in our constantly shrinking nightgowns.
When I would mention it to Paula, my sister would laugh and tell me she'd had the same problem. Poor Daddy. I remember listening to him make love to my mom through the wall between our bedrooms. I'd be laying on the floor with Marcia and Lisa as we shared the comforters and pillows of our makeshift bed. We stared at each other, covering our mouths to stifle our giggles, wide-eyed and warm with girlish excitement. The squeaking of my parents' bed punctuated by the dull thumping of the headboard against the wall. My mother's muffled gasps and her husband's sharp groans left little doubt in our over-active fourteen-year-old imaginations -- They were fucking!
It couldn't help but make my nipples hard. My breasts would ache and my tummy tingle. I'd rub my thighs together, suffering equal parts guilt, humiliation, and arousal. Worse than that was knowing my two friends felt the same. We were touching ourselves and pretending not to. We feigned sleep so that we wouldn't have to talk over the noise, which would have been hardly noticeable any other time. Everything seems louder in the dark, closer and more intimate. Like my friends. I felt the heat radiating out of Marcia as she lay between Lisa and me. I remember her bare leg accidentally grazing mine, sending a shock of electrical excitement through my flesh.
We learned to masturbate side-by-side, but always in secret. The faint movement of fingers barely scratching at the growing itch between our thighs was so obvious, I have to laugh at the memory. The weak panting through our noses, the compressed sighs rising from our burning lungs. I would hold my breath, desperate not to give myself away, letting it out only when I had no other choice. I measured my pubic hair that way, with my hand inside my panties, reaching for my vulva like a child stealing cookies. The oily arousal seeping between my immature labia would cover my fingers and I'd wipe them clean on my hollow tummy or quivering thighs. I felt my hymen and how I resisted the urge to take my own virginity, I have no idea.
But I only masturbated when my friends were with me, that's my point. I didn't do it alone, no matter how desperately I pretended otherwise. We never spoke of it, not once, but I could hear them cumming. Lisa would bounce her butt off the floor, catch herself and roll onto her side facing away from us. Marcia would whimper like a puppy and spread her legs, almost kicking me as she couldn't seem to control that particular reaction. I could smell them, a tart scent that washed over my flushed skin. If I opened my mouth, as I often did, and drew the air across my pink, wet tongue, I could taste my two friends. I could taste myself and I often felt an insane urge to confess everything.
I wanted to put my hand on Marcia's breasts and feel her heart racing like mine. I wanted to reach for Lisa and pull her against me, pressing my pussy against her hip. They were small fantasies and incomplete, but more often than not it was those two ideas that filled my head. I never let the dream go any further and by the time we were seventeen, our sleepovers had become less frequent and much less intimate. We were no longer innocent girls racing through puberty. We had boyfriends and talked openly about having sex with them. Marcia wasn't a virgin. Lisa had sucked her boyfriend's cock. I lied and told them I'd given Brad a handjob, but I hadn't even seen his penis.
Our new found experience and willingness to talk about it put a real damper on our juvenile sexuality. I mean, we no longer masturbated together and I missed that. Perhaps my friends did too, but I had no way of asking. It had been a secret we'd all kept from each other even while we'd been sharing it. Instead of listening to my parents make love, we could stay up late watching the Fashion Channel and smoking pot in the basement. We'd get giggly and hungry and elaborate on our plans to conquer the world, or at least our school.
The whole time I'd think about climbing over Lisa's body, rubbing my pussy against her while she lay there like a throw pillow. Or reaching for Marcia's breasts, which were always unrestrained by a bra, and pressing them flat beneath my palms. We'd fall asleep without ever mentioning our feelings for each other, even if the desire existed largely in my own imagination. I was afraid of rejection. Afraid of being different. Afraid of my own shadow it seemed and I really hated myself sometimes. I didn't know if I was gay or not; I just wanted to find out. None of it made sense, you know?
Yeah. Between Brad and my two best friends, I felt like a closet lesbian. I mentioned that to my sister once, after a particularly frustrating date with Brad. I'd pushed his hand away from my breasts for the tenth time in as many minutes and by then I didn't even want him to kiss me anymore. I'd made him drive me home and he'd accused me of being a dyke. I told Paula everything, including my stubborn fantasies about Marcia and Lisa. She hadn't laughed, but I immediately felt very self-conscious about it. After she suggested I might actually try something with one of my friends, I made some clumsy excuse and hung up the phone. Neither of us ever brought it up again, but shortly after that she brought Lauren home.
I didn't believe in coincidence either, not when it involved my sister.
"There she is!" Paula swept into the den with typical exuberance.
She embraced me before I was even out of the chair. My sister pulled me to my feet with a grin and like most people, I felt utterly helpless in her presence. Paula kissed my smile and dropped her eyes with a confused expression.
"Where did those come from?" she teased, obviously meaning my breasts.
"Shut-up!" I giggled and we hugged for a few more seconds, not saying anything.
My breasts had finally caught up with the rest of me. Actually, they surpassed the rest of me and were much larger than Paula remembered from her last visit. Beneath my halter top I wore a new bra, size 30C, but it didn't fit me very well. I probably should have bought a D-cup, except that would have been too loose, adjustable straps or no. Anyway, with my slender build, non-existent waist, and being so short like I was, my tits looked even bigger than they were. I wasn't exactly embarrassed by them, but I was all too aware of the interest they generated.
Like that of her friend, whom I hadn't noticed immediately. A tall blonde stood silently in the open doorway, wearing a patient smile above her turtle-neck sweater and designer jeans. Paula caught the direction of my gaze and let me go, turning her head.
"Oh! Come on in, Lauren," she said. "Don't be shy. This is my little sister, Jennifer, except she's not that little anymore."
"Be nice," I warned, but I didn't mind the attention. Paula seemed to be playing nice and I hadn't seen her in awhile.
"Still just a munchkin though," she continued, unable to resist the urge to tease me about my height, or lack thereof. My sister stood something like 5'10" tall, which seemed ridiculous to me as I'd been stuck at 5'1" exactly for the last three years or so.
"Hi Jennifer," Lauren said in a pleasant voice. She had cold eyes, it seemed to me, but they thawed noticeably when she smiled.
"Just Jen is okay," I told her. "How was the trip?"
"Long," they both replied at the same time, sharing a laugh and slapping hands.
"Six hours listening to Chris Isaac over and over and over..." Lauren told me, giving Paula a hard time.
"Don't remind me!" I rolled my eyes. "She tortured me with that guy for years."
"Right! You know you like him," Paula said, making a face. "It was only five and half hours anyway. I bought a radar detector."
"Don't tell Dad you were speeding," I said. "He's been worrying all week."
"All month probably," she corrected me.
My sister went to college in Chicago, as did Lauren, obviously, and they'd driven all the way across Wisconsin to reach Minneapolis. It wasn't a bad drive, I knew that from experience, but it could be awfully boring. Kind of hard on the butt as well, which explains why Lauren quickly agreed to the idea of taking a hot soak in the upstairs bathtub. Paula loved baths and she didn't apologize as she dragged her friend away after such a brief introduction. They weren't going to bathe together or anything; my sister would use the master bath. They only had to share the same bedroom and Paula's room was exactly as she'd left it two years before. Well, Mom kept it clean the way my sister never did, but you know what I mean.
I went back to my homework, sitting on Daddy's swivel chair and using his desktop computer instead of my laptop. It wasn't really his anyway. The den served as the family room and if the kitchen was the heart of our home, the den could be called the soul. Or the other way around probably sounds better. Either way, we were a close family and spent most of our evenings together in that cozy room. I liked the internet and my parents liked watching television.
The den had large bay windows overlooking Mom's garden and the backyard. I used to sleep there when I'd been a little girl, curling up on the oddly shaped shelf surrounded on three sides by glass. Paula often teased me about being part cat, but it was comfortable, especially in the summer. In the winter I always used a thick quilt and a lot of pillows to protect me from the Minnesota weather. Even double-pane storm windows couldn't keep the cold out, but a cheery fire and a favorite teddy bear could. The den had a real fireplace and I sort of collected stuffed animals without really meaning to. I just kept getting more and more of them over the years and they were all over the house.
There were a lot of books too. One entire wall was nothing but a floor to ceiling bookshelf and as I mentioned, I'd always preferred being indoors. I read a lot and my interests were varied. We had the big screen television and the fancy Bose stereo with tiny, awesome speakers mounted in the corners. There were pictures of of us, family portraits and school pictures, our happy memories framed and hung with care. The carpeting was thick and if that wasn't enough, there was a large Persian rug beneath the overstuffed sofa and matching chairs.
The desk sat beneath ordinary, south facing windows and there wasn't much of a view. We'd decorated it with a half-dozen stained glass wind chimes, although they never did anything but look pretty because we never opened the window. I didn't mind. So far as rooms go, I loved that one. Whenever I dreamt of moving out of the house and into my adult life, I always brought the den with me.
Lauren surprised me as she walked into the room. She greeted me with a smiling, "Hi there." which seemed friendly enough.
"Hey," I replied, glancing over my shoulder.
Lauren wasn't a striking young woman like Paula, but I would certainly consider her pretty. Her blonde hair was wet from her bath, dark as it clung to her neck and recently combed. She'd traded her sweater for a pink t-shirt and it went well with her navy blue sweat pants. She'd opted for a casual look and I was glad she felt so comfortable. I think most people would have preferred to stay dressed like she'd been, meaning like a visitor instead of a houseguest.
"What are you doing?" she wondered, crossing the room to see for herself. She smelled like my peach bath beads, but I didn't mind. I'd bought them precisely because I liked the scent and I could always get more.
"Nothing," I said. "Just checking some Friendster pages."
"Your friends?" Lauren asked, gesturing towards a photograph of a dozen girls in cheer outfits. I was kneeling in the front row, smiling above my green and white pom-poms.
"The junior varsity cheer squad," I explained. "That's Kim, Marcia, Lisa, and..."
"That's you, isn't it?" she asked. "You've got a nice smile."
"Do I look fat?"
"I'm kidding," I said, smiling up at her. "That's what people always say about fat girls, right? She's got a nice smile or whatever."
"I think they always say she's got a nice personality," Lauren replied with a scrunch of her nose. "But you do have an awesome smile, Jen."
"Thanks. So do you."
"We should start a club," she joked. "We could probably get your sister to join."
"Except we'd have to make her the president."
"Heh!" Lauren laughed and she had a soft, breathless sort of voice like some girls do. A bedroom voice? I liked it and she didn't have any sort of accent to my Midwest ears, but something about her surprised me. Or maybe that's too strong a word.
She stood nearly as tall as Paula, but didn't possess the same curvy shape. Lauren had smallish breasts and she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were poking against the pink cotton like bullets, although she didn't seem to realize it and I made a point of not staring. It wasn't easy. She had narrow hips, but I'd noticed her long legs and nice round butt earlier. The jeans she'd been wearing fit her like a coat of denim paint; the sweat pants were loose, but somehow more sexy, I thought.
Lauren wore pink socks.
"What?" she asked, smiling self-consciously as I stared at her feet.
"Huh?" I blinked at her and blushed, right on cue. "Sorry. I was just ... Sometimes my mind wanders. Sorry."
"It's okay," she said. "I thought you were looking at my feet."
"Uhhh..." I shrugged like an idiot. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink? I was going to make some tea or hot chocolate or something."
"Hot chocolate would be good," she decided. "I haven't had any in a long time."
"Really? I love that stuff."
We talked about hot chocolate as we headed towards the kitchen. It wasn't much of a conversation, you know, but I found myself enjoying Lauren's company. She struck me as a really open person. I don't know why, it's just the impression I had. Like she wouldn't let a little thing like being embarrassed stop her from saying whatever was on her mind. Paula could be like that sometimes, and me too, I suppose, but most people aren't -- At least not around me. It sounds dumb, but I'd already come to understand that a lot of my classmates wouldn't even talk to me. Not because they didn't like me, but because they found my good looks intimidating. They were embarrassed if I approached them and it could be awkward and frustrating, believe me.
Thankfully, Lauren didn't seem to have any problems like that, but she wasn't unattractive either. In fact, she looked pretty good as we sat in the kitchen waiting for the water to get hot. She leaned across the breakfast bar, cupping her chin with her right hand while we talked. Hunched over like that, her breasts were pulled downward and I had a perfect view down the loose neck of her t-shirt. My eyes would dart from her face to her tits, back and forth, but I couldn't help it. I could see the cone-like shapes drawn taut as her smallest movement would alternately hide and reveal them. Her tits were nothing like mine, but thin and somehow elongated, and strangely tempting.
"Your sister likes to talk about you," Lauren told me, cocking her head and frisking her damp hair.
"She does?" I smiled at that. "What does she say?"
"Good stuff," she replied. "Paula told me how pretty you are. She even showed me some pictures. You're kind of amazing in person."
"Amazing?" I giggled and rolled my eyes.
"Seriously," Lauren protested. "I bet your boyfriend is the cutest boy in school, huh?"
"Brad?" I sighed. "He's okay, I guess."
"Just okay?" She offered me a teasing, doubtful look. "Let me guess ... Quarterback?"
"He's a football player," I admitted, dragging my eyes off her tits. Again. Jeeze, what was wrong with me?
"And he probably doesn't know how lucky he is," she said, standing upright with a long stretch. Lauren brought both hands to her head, pulling her tits nearly flat as she combed her fingers through her hair.
"What do you mean?"
"Just that," she answered. "Boys never know what they have, even after it's gone."
"How do you know I'm breaking up with him?" I asked. That seemed to be what she meant, but I didn't know how or why.
"I didn't know," Lauren said. Her blue eyes widened, looking as surprised as I felt. "I'm sorry, Jen. I was just talking."
"Oh." I frowned, believing the girl and knowing I'd read too much into her words. "I haven't told anyone. Not even my best friends."
"I sorta decided today, actually." I frowned at myself and shook my head. "Everybody's going to think I'm crazy for dumping him."
"Not me," Lauren said, and I had to smile at her.
"Yeah." She nodded. "I think you're doing the right thing."
"You don't even know him," I reminded her. "He might be the nicest guy in the world."
"I know you," she said, which I didn't completely get.
I made a helpless gesture. "And?"
"You deserve to be happy," Lauren explained. "If this Brad guy isn't doing it for you, well ... Find someone else. Right?"
"It isn't that easy," I sighed, turning off the stove. The tea kettle had started whistling and our cups were already waiting with spoons and Swiss Miss hot cocoa.
"It can't be that hard either," she said. "You're smart, beautiful, fun and interesting to talk to, and..."
"Yeah right." I showed her my tongue.
"Don't tease me," she warned in that husky voice of hers.
Lauren licked her lips and I lost my train of thought completely. That's when I felt it. Like an electrical charge pulling us closer, invisible and untouchable and unmistakable.
"I think you're teasing me," I decided, clearing my throat and pouring hot water into our cups. It gave me something else to do besides stare at her and I needed to figure out what was happening.
Being hit on like that, if that's what Lauren was really doing, made me regard her from a different perspective. Boys had flirted with me, full grown men a couple times, but never a girl. Even when I'd been fifteen and desperate for some expression of my blooming sexuality, I hadn't noticed any interest from other girls. If Marcia or Lisa wanted to take our friendship to a different level, I probably would have agreed to at least try. Would I still? I felt more confident, but no less frustrated when it came to love and sex and just being with someone. Brad didn't do it for me, not at all, and here was this friend of my sister ... What did she want?
Boys flirted with me. Boys tried to kiss me and grope my tits and finger my pussy. Is that what Lauren was looking for? Was she just a wolf dressed in sheep clothes? It seemed a silly thought, kind of a paranoid, fearful idea that rose out of my own insecurity. I mean, I was seventeen and my life should have been perfect. The girls at school thought so. They wanted to be me, some of them. I'd heard them say things like, "I wish I could be her, just for one day." But my life wasn't perfect, it was just as confused and full of problems as any other teenage girl's.
Was she a lesbian? Or was she straight and I was a repressed lesbian who wanted to see things that weren't there? We stirred our hot chocolate, neither of us saying anything. I kept my head down, but lifted my eyes to look at her across the breakfast bar. Lauren was pretty, but not beautiful like my sister. She had a masculine quality, perhaps. I wasn't sure. I found it hard to get past her ice blue eyes and the smile playing at the corners of her wide mouth. I'd always imagined it would be easy to recognize a dyke. They wore flannel shirts and straight-leg jeans, sported bad haircuts, and didn't shave their underarms. Or did that describe half the girls in France?
Maybe not, because Lauren had to be a lesbian. Paula must have known, but my sister had a boyfriend that she loved, so what was Lauren doing here if they weren't together? Unless she thought I was gay. I mean, both of them. Paula thought I was queer because I'd told her about my weird feelings for my two best friends and so she'd brought Lauren to ... Do what? Test me? Have sex with me? Talk to me about how hard it was being a high school lesbian? Were we supposed to be friends or lovers or what?
So many questions. My mind went a mile a minute and got me nowhere.
"Where's Paula anyway?" I wondered, because it had been a couple hours since she'd gone upstairs for a bath.
"Oh. She went out," Lauren answered.
She broke into an apologetic smile. "Something about seeing her boyfriend? I guess he lives around here."
"Yeah, that's him," she agreed. "Paula said she'd be right back."
"He lives in White Bear Lake!" I told her.
"Okay." Lauren was still smiling, but she obviously didn't know anything about the local geography.
"That's completely on the other side of Minneapolis," I informed her. "It'll take her an hour to get there. At least!"
"She was pretty excited to see him."
"My parents are going to freak out," I said. "The whole reason she came home was to be with me. If they find out she took off..."
"She'll be back," Lauren said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "It's fine. You're a big girl, right? You don't need a babysitter."
"It's not babysitting," I said, and immediately regretted my snotty tone. "Sorry. I just didn't expect Paula to sneak out like that."
"When she comes back I'll hold her down and you can spank her," she said, giggling even as her hand roamed across my shoulder.
"Yeah." I rolled my eyes and didn't move away from her touch. "I don't think Paula's ever been spanked in her life."
"There's always a first time for everything," Lauren said, but we weren't talking about my sister anymore.
Her eyes were fixed on mine and the electricity had returned. I had goose bumps as she slipped her fingers into my hair, teasing the nape of my neck with her fingernails. I could hardly breathe and my tummy churned, my body felt ready to bolt with a rush of adrenalin. We were looking at each other, connected physically with her fingers caressing my neck, tightening gradually, pleasantly pulling me closer. Lauren had a large mouth, too big for her pointed chin and upturned nose, but her lips were moist and pink and soft as they touched mine. I close my eyes and everything seemed to stop for that brief eternity.
"Was that alright?" she asked, before I even realized our kiss had ended.
"Yeah," I cleared my throat, nodding. "I think so."
I opened my eyes, blinking into hers. The ice had melted and it felt like falling into a summer sky. Lauren hadn't let me go and the counter-top pinched my hip as I leaned across it. I ignored that small annoyance and brought my right hand to her cheek. She turned her head at my touch, like a kitten wanting to be stroked. She put her cheek in the palm of my hand and sighed. It felt so natural, so normal to do that, but still my heart raced and I had to remind myself to breathe. This was how it had felt masturbating in the dark next to my friends -- Exciting, forbidden, and desperate.
She didn't say anything, but only kissed me again and this time I let Lauren's tongue part my lips. French kissing over steaming cups of hot chocolate made for a very interesting moment. Brad never would have thought of trying that, which explains why he was the furthest thing from my mind just then. It had taken him two weeks to get his tongue into my mouth; it had taken Lauren two hours and we weren't stopping.
We made out in the den, sitting on the sofa and watching Freaky Friday on the Disney Channel. Actually, we hardly watched anything but each other. In addition to my halter top, I wore a pair of cut-off shorts, the tortured denim all frayed and nearly worn through in places. Lauren stroked my thighs while we kissed, but unlike Brad, she didn't go too high or too deeply between them. I didn't feel threatened and I could relax, you know? I could concentrate on the wonderful experience without constantly pushing her hands away.
Lauren didn't even try to cop a feel of my tits. Every now and then as she rubbed my shoulder or down my back I would feel a slight pressure against the side of my breast, but she never went all out and grabbed me. I liked that too. In fact, I loved the way she seemed to be teasing me. The expectation kept building. I waited for her to slide her hand under my top or bring her fingers closer to my humid crotch and test me. Maybe I even wanted Lauren to go a little faster, I'm not sure and I honestly don't know how I would have reacted. Would I have pushed her away and told her to slow down like I so often did with my boyfriend?
She left me with that question unanswered, breaking another long, urgent kiss with a deep-throated sigh. We were hot and breathless, a tangle of arms and legs entwined. I'd ignored her tits as well, although I'd managed to tease her much as Lauren had teased me. Just a bit of pressure with the heel of my palm against the side of her breast, pretending it to be entirely accidental and resisting the urge to cup her braless tits in my hands and squeeze. Her nipples must have been an inch long, I swear, and I would tug her t-shirt tightly against them as I rubbed her back. I wanted to kiss her tits, but I wasn't that bold and the idea that I could spoil everything frightened me.
And now we weren't kissing at all, just smiling and catching our breath as we lounged on the sofa. That's when the phone rang and I didn't want to get up, but I didn't really have a choice. It might be Paula calling to tell me where she was after sneaking out. Or it could be our parents calling to make sure my sister had arrived safely from college. I didn't care if it turned out to be anyone else, but for those two reasons I couldn't ignore the impatient ringing.
"It's okay," Lauren said, smiling as she gave me a small push. "I'm not going anywhere, Jen."
"Promise?" I teased her with a mock pout. For the first time since hitting puberty, I felt truly happy.
"Promise." She kissed me lightly on the lips and I believed her.
I answered the phone with a frown at the kitchen wall clock, a sunny daisy with 12 white petals. My mom had picked it up at a yard sale. One of her favorite hobbies was digging through other people's junk. Being a teenager, I preferred my junk brand new. That's why God invented credit cards, after all.
"Where were you last night?" Brad demanded. "Everybody was there. I was waiting for you."
"It's nine o'clock in the morning," I told him. "God! This can't wait?"
"I looked like an idiot," he continued. "All the other guys had their girlfriends and I was..."
"All alone?" I stared at Lauren, sitting at the kitchen table with her netbook and a cup of coffee. "I'm sorry I didn't come to the stupid party. My sister came home, okay? I wanted to spend some time with her."
She glanced up, smiling as she caught my eyes, or maybe because my sister hadn't been home at all last night. We'd spent the evening alone and getting to know each other better, Lauren and me. I blushed, but didn't look away from her bright blue eyes. They weren't cold anymore, not to me.
"Jen, it isn't fair," my boyfriend continued. "We planned that party for two weeks. You're always pulling that stuff on me."
"Yeah," I sighed, leaning against the refrigerator and rocking my hips, sort of rubbing my butt against the stainless steel.
I wore my big sleepy-t with the Power Puff Girls on it and a pair of plain white panties underneath. The shirt fell halfway down my thighs anyway, but it did make me feel sexy. That could have been the way Lauren sat there in an old bathrobe, the one Paula had outgrown at sixteen and Mom hadn't bothered to get rid of. It was too small for the bed-head blonde too, even with her modest, but amazingly firm breasts. They were definitely trying to sneak out for a peek and I practically held my breath in anticipation.
"Yeah what?" Brad snorted. "Look, some of the guys are going to a movie. You can make it up to me, alright?"
"Huh?" I narrowed my eyes at the phone. "Are you still drunk from last night?"
"No," he replied, chuckling as if I had to be joking. I wasn't.
"You think I'm going to let you cop a feel in a movie theater?"
"Jen..." he sighed.
"That's what you're saying, right?" I demanded. "Like all your friends got some last night and you didn't, so I owe you?"
"I didn't say that," he told me, sounding bored.
"Are you gonna do me, Brad?" I asked, teasing him with a sarcastic, sing-song voice that got a rise out of Lauren's eyebrows.
"Why are you acting like this?" he countered. "You're the one who stood me up, remember?"
"I think we should see other people."
"What?" he obviously hadn't been expecting that. "You're my girlfriend, Jennifer."
I didn't say anything immediately. This wasn't exactly the way I'd planned on dealing with Brad, but Lauren changed everything. She sat less than a dozen feet away, listening to every word I said and looking so...
"Beautiful," I breathed.
"Are you breaking up with me?" Brad asked, incredulously. "Over the phone?"
"I guess so," I told him. "I'm sorry, but..."
"You're not even that hot anyway!" he spat. "You're lucky I put up with you at all. Any other guy would have dropped you a long time ago."
"I'm lucky?" I took a deep breath and bit my tongue. I'd never felt lucky dating that jerk.
"Maybe you should see a shrink about that fear of sex you have," he half-explained, but I got the point.
"I like sex," I retorted. "I just don't like you!"
I turned off the phone before he could say anything else. I felt stupid for airing out my relationship in front of Lauren, but she'd been the reason for it in the first place. If it hadn't been for her, I would have gone to the party and wouldn't have broken up with Brad over the phone. That had to be the worst way to dump a guy, but he deserved it. And anyway, I really was that hot and we both knew it. He'd come crawling back and I'd have to deal with him again, but I wouldn't change my mind.
"Is everything okay?" Lauren asked. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I'm fine," I said. "It's just my boyfriend, uh ... My ex-boyfriend now."
"Because of me?"
"No, we didn't really get along anyway," I assured her. "We just dated because we were supposed to or something."
"Sure." She nodded seriously, but a second later we were both giggling.
"God! That felt good," I decided, stretching with my arms over my head. I didn't realize I was showing off until I saw Lauren's eyes.
I'd managed to pull the hem of my t-shirt upward just enough to expose the crotch of my panties. Not even all of it, just enough to give her a nice view of the cotton clinging to every dent and dimple of my teenage sex.
"Oh!" I definitely blushed that time and Lauren looked politely away, turning her attention back to her computer.
I liked that about her. I didn't feel rushed into anything. We'd done a lot of kissing the night before, but that was all. Lauren had gone to her bed and I'd gone to mine. I'd fallen asleep with my hand between my thighs and a smile on my face. She'd gotten me excited enough that I felt the need to jill off afterward, but that's all. Kissing had been as far as I wanted to go and she'd been content with that. Was it any reason I felt myself drawn to her the way I hadn't with Brad? I might have worried about being a lesbian, maybe suffered a pinch of hetero guilt, but if Lauren made me happy -- What did it matter if she was a boy or a girl?
None at all so far as I could tell.
"I'm going to get a shower, I think," I told her, smoothing my t-shirt and dropping my eyes.
That only made it worse as I realized my nipples were swollen and obvious, suddenly throbbing the way a paper cut will when you see it. She must have noticed and that old sleepy-t was so threadbare that it might have been tissue paper for all the modesty it provided. Why hadn't I considered that before?
Just as I turned around, the phone rang again. "Or maybe not," I sighed, picking it up. "Hello?"
"Good morning!" Paula said, much too happily.
"Where are you?" I asked. "You snuck out yesterday and you didn't even call and..."
"Whoa! Slow down," she said. "I went to Craig's house. It got kind of late, so I decided to spend the night."
"I bet!" I snorted. "Mom called, they were looking for you."
"What did you tell them?"
"You were at the grocery store," I replied. "How come you didn't call me?"
"Oh, you know..." she sighed airily. "Give me a break, Jen. I haven't seen him in six months."
"You saw him at Christmas!"
"Not naked!" Paula said with a giggle. "What about you?"
"No, I never saw your boyfriend naked," I answered. "What about me?"
"You and Lauren," she said, lowering her voice for some reason.
"I didn't see her naked either," I said, adding a theatrical pout that made Lauren grin. We were looking at each other and I felt my heart thumping.
"Too bad," my sister said. "I thought you guys would get along pretty good."
"We're getting along just fine," I informed her. "Maybe we want to be friends first, ever think of that?"
Lauren nodded and it sounds strange, but we were having a conversation. I mean, I could talk to my sister and at the same time express almost anything I wanted to Lauren without a direct confrontation. If I said something wrong or just plain stupid, I could always rationalize it later. I could say I hadn't meant it. Like I was just exaggerating for Paula's benefit or whatever. If Lauren heard something she didn't like, we could calmly discuss it later. She didn't have to reject me right to my face, see? At least, I hoped that's how it would work because I intended to push it.
"Maybe tonight I'll let her see me naked," I continued. "I'm still thinking about it."
Lauren cocked an eyebrow and I giggled.
"You're teasing me, huh?" Paula said. "Look, if she freaks you out, just..."
"What are you talking about?" I wondered. "She's sitting right here."
"Duh!" I giggled. "She's smiling at me."
"Oh." My sister thought about that for a second. "Then you're cool with it?"
"I'm cool with her," I said. "I don't know what Mom and Dad are going to say when they find out I'm a lesbian, but..."
"A lesbian?" Paula laughed and I frowned.
Lauren appeared ... I dunno. Apologetic? Sort of, or ... Guilty? I gave her a silent, questioning look of my own.
"That's what your saying, right?" I asked my sister. "We were making out, kinda, so ... Doesn't that make me pretty queer?"
"I guess so," she replied. "That's all you did?"
"We talked a lot," I said. "Why? Kissing isn't enough for two people who just met?"
"Never mind," Paula sighed. "I'm getting confused. Let me talk to Lauren for a minute."
"When are you coming home?"
"Uhhh..." She cleared her throat.
"What does that mean?" I demanded. "Where are you?"
"Duluth," Paula said, and I almost dropped the phone. "Craig's parents are home, but his uncle went down to Mexico or someplace and..."
"You went to Duluth?" I yelled. "Are you insane?"
"What? Just don't tell Mom and Dad and it's all cool," she said. "Lauren's there. She's a good babysitter, right?"
"Great! Why do you always do this to me?"
"Do what?" My sister laughed. "You're not going to get in trouble. Let me talk to Lauren now."
"They're going to blame me," I told her. "They always do, Paula. Forget it. I don't want to talk to you anymore."
I handed the phone to Lauren and she didn't know if she should be smiling or not. It didn't matter; none of it was her fault anyway. My sister used people all the time and I should have expected something like this. Paula had found some lesbian coed who wouldn't mind spending her Spring Break seducing a high school hottie. My sister could drop her off and spend a week in freakin' Duluth with her boyfriend stress testing condoms, and everyone would be perfectly happy. Until our parents found out that little Jennifer had been home alone.
God! I hated my sister sometimes. "I'm not a tool, Paula!" I shouted from the top of the stairs, but even if she heard me, it wouldn't have impressed her.
The Mall of America isn't as big as everyone thinks it is. Sure, there's a lot of stores and everything. It's got a small amusement park and all that, but I'd never been very impressed with the place. Maybe I was just jaded because I'd grown up in the Twin Cities. Lauren had never been there before and she seemed to be enjoying our window shopping expedition, although I seemed determined to spoil it for some reason.
Well, I knew the reason -- Paula.
Lauren and I stopped outside the Coach store, looking at expensive handbags through the huge windows.
"I'm sorry," I sighed.
"My sister," I said, looking up at her. In the heels she wore, Lauren must have been ten inches taller than me. I wore my pink Skechers.
"Because she took off?" Lauren shrugged. "I don't mind. I'm having more fun being with you anyway."
"She conned you into babysitting me," I reminded her, hating that stupid word. "I'm sure you don't want to waste your vacation on me."
"Don't even say that, Jen." She took my hand, which I didn't expect. "So far, this has been the best vacation of my life."
"Really?" I asked, glancing around and wondering what people would think of two young women holding hands. Mall of America was always crowded too, like there wasn't anything else to do in Minnesota.
"Are you nervous?" she asked, and shook my head.
"No," I lied, but that only made her smile.
"Nobody cares," Lauren said, deliberately looking around as if challenging someone to be outraged. "See?"
"I know, but..." I tightened my grip on her fingers and wished my palm hadn't become so sweaty all of a sudden.
"The only reason I let Paula talk me into coming was so I could meet you," she said, returning to the original subject. "She told me all about you and I saw your picture and..."
"That sounds kind of bad," I decided.
"Because I'm seventeen for one thing," I told her. "I mean, I know you're not that old, but it still seems kind of weird."
"Did it seem weird last night?"
"No, but last night I didn't know why you came here," I explained. "I thought you were just friends with my sister, not trying to hook up with me."
"I am friends with your sister," Lauren said, smiling. "Are you mad at me?"
"I'm mad at Paula."
"But what about me?" she insisted.
"I'm holding your hand in the Mall of America," I pointed out. "Doesn't that tell you anything?"
"Hmmm..." She rolled her eyes, teasing me with another smile. "I just wanted to make sure, Jen."
"Yeah. Me too," I agreed. "Are you hungry? There's a Rainforest place down that way. It's kind of cool."
"Sure." Lauren nodded and we didn't say anything as we walked, but we didn't let go of each others hand either.
I kind of liked it, truth be told. It seemed sort of daring to be breaking the rules that way. Minneapolis is pretty liberal, I suppose, but how often do you see a couple girls walking around holding hands? Not that much in my experience. We got a lot of attention too, although not because of that. From the moment we'd stepped out of my car, people noticed us. Mostly any red-blooded male between thirteen and, oh ... Infinity? If a guy had a dick, he had an interest in me. I'd learned that fairly early in my career as a teenage heartbreaker and I'd largely decided to ignore it. Everybody wants to be beautiful, but sometimes I wished I wasn't.
Now there were two of us. Double trouble, especially since we'd sort of dressed up. Not for the mall, that would be silly, but for each other. Casual-sexy, we'd independently decided, would be the rule of the day. I'd emerged from my bedroom wearing a pair of white denim shorts and a baby blue top that really hugged my body. With my pink leather jacket mostly unzipped and framing my breasts, I was basically asking the world to worship my awesome tits. My butt too, since I had a nice one and those shorts didn't hide my shape at all.
It had seemed like a good idea in my bedroom, but I was having second thoughts. Too late. At least Lauren had looked pretty happy with my outfit and I liked hers as well.
She wore a modest sundress, complete with a dozen buttons up the back and a satin sash around her waist. It was cornflower blue, which went well with her eyes and golden hair, but very thin and she hadn't bothered with a bra. Maybe she didn't even own one, I wasn't sure. Or maybe Lauren really liked putting her small, pert breasts on public display. I mean, they were right there and she still had her nipples on high beam. They could have poked someone's eyes out if she wasn't careful, but the girl didn't even seem to notice.
Everyone else did, believe me. We had guys following us and Lauren joked about having our own fan club at one point. We ditched them and picked up a couple more and it became something of a game, but at the same time we wanted to talk. The Rainforest was good for that, being a theme restaurant and rather dark inside with its jungle atmosphere. Loud too. The air was filled with screeching monkeys, exotic bird calls, frogs and crickets and God knows what else. Tribal drums calling Tarzan? Whatever. Lauren asked for a table away from the speakers and we ended up next to an over-sized aquarium with a huge eel in it. I wasn't too sure about that, but it appeared to be sleeping anyway.
"Maybe we should have gone to McDonalds," I said. That earned me a frown from our waitress and she seemed much too friendly anyway, the way people looking for big tips always are. She reminded me of Paula.
"This is fun," Lauren decided. "I like it."
"Okay." I nodded and looked over a plastic card advertising desserts with strange, tropical names. "A Kilimanjaro Sundae?"
"Do they have ice cream in Africa?" she wondered, and we giggled at our silliness.
We didn't really talk though, not like I wanted to. I didn't know how or where to start, although it shouldn't have been that difficult. I worried about making Lauren angry, because I really wanted to find out why she'd felt the need to come 300 miles and pick up an 11th grade cheerleader. I mean, I felt kind of used. Maybe Paula was using her, but it seemed like Lauren was using me. What, she couldn't find a girlfriend at college? Did she think I'd be desperate and therefore easy? A high school lesbian would have to be pretty deep in the closet, so maybe she thought she could just waltz in, fuck me, and make her escape. All the fun and none of the responsibility. It wasn't like I'd ever see her again, right?
Those thoughts were seriously disappointing and I'd never felt so conflicted in my life. I liked Lauren. I'd enjoyed kissing her. I didn't even mind walking through the Mall of America holding her hand. It wasn't exactly loud and proud, we weren't holding a parade, but it was a big deal for me. If anyone at school found out I was a lesbian, my life would be over. No more cheerleading. No shot at being the Homecoming Queen or the Prom Queen or anything else a teenage girl dreams of. I'd be the prettiest lesbian in school. The smartest lesbian. The most popular lesbian. But lesbian is the operative word, see? I wouldn't be anything else after that. I couldn't be.
Shoot, I really hated myself for being such a wimp.
"Paula wouldn't care," I said, mostly to myself.
"What's that?" Lauren asked, leaning over the table. "She wouldn't care about what?"
"Nothing," I sighed, and then changed my mind. "She always does whatever she wants."
"And she never gets in trouble for it," I continued. "If my parents find out she's not here? They're going to assume the worst."
"What do you mean?" she wondered, frowning at my unexpected outburst.
"Like I spent all week partying and having sex with my boyfriend," I explained. "They won't blame her. It'll be my fault because they can't trust me."
"I'm sure they're just worried about you," Lauren offered. "They're your parents, right? They love you."
"That's what everybody says," I sighed. "Never mind. I don't want to talk about them anyway. I just wish Paula would have to be responsible for something, just once in her life."
"You can't spend all your time worrying about her," she said. "Your folks are in Hawaii, aren't they?"
"And you dumped your boyfriend."
"Pretty much," I agreed, smiling just because she was.
"Are you planning any parties I should know about?" Lauren asked, definitely teasing me.
"No!" I giggled.
"Then what's the problem, Jenny?"
She took both of my hands in hers, bringing them to her lips as we stared at each other over the table. The restaurant had lighting issues, but the blue-green glow of the aquarium beside our table illuminated us perfectly. Her eyes were darker than usual and Lauren's hair shimmered as it fell around her pretty face. She kissed my hands and I felt foolish for my earlier mood. I shouldn't have doubted her, or asked too much from the girl. She didn't owe me anything and Lauren hadn't demanded anything. What did I want? What did I expect?
"I just don't want to be used," I told her. "I like you a lot, but I don't understand what's going on. Why are you here?"
"I told you," she replied, speaking through my fingers. "Paula told me about you and..."
"You have to go back though," I reminded her. "Is this like a one-week stand or something?"
"I don't want it to be," Lauren said. "You think I don't care what happens to you?"
"I don't know what to think," I sighed. "I don't know why I'm mad or worried or anything. Maybe I'm crazy."
"You're not crazy," she whispered. "You're in love."
"I am?" That seemed like kind of an egotistical thing for her to say, but was it the truth? Being in love would explain everything.
"Why not?" Lauren asked. "I'm in love with you."