Part I
When did it start?
Something about Amelia was different from the beginning. That much Alice could tell. Objectively Amelia did not stand out too much from people in general, although she arguably did capture the space of any room with her presence. She exuded a vivacious energy, an enthusiasm for daily life. She was talkative, loud, and boisterous… precisely the type of person that irritated Alice.
They had met through a mutual friend (Maddie), and this initial encounter was but a fleeting one, only a moment in Alice's day. But Amelia Jones, with her short blonde bob, smiling blue eyes, and robust sun kissed body, left her impression.
How different she was from Alice Kirkland, who thin and pale, nervous green eyes behind round glasses, and hair in long, ash blonde pigtails, didn't speak much the first time they had met. What little impression she had probably left.
But Amelia had remembered her, calling her name out immediately the next time they passed each other by chance. It was a sunny day on campus, and it so happened that they both were heading to the dining hall to grab some food.
"Let's eat together!"
Alice politely agreed, but she grumbled on the inside. Eating lunch was usually a solitary activity on Tuesdays, a time to relax between classes. It was a good time to read as well, as her English Literature degree workload demanded a good amount of reading. More than that, she did not know Amelia well enough to let Amelia in on her private time. To be cordial in public was no problem, but Alice had an introverted sense of private space, and for an unfamiliar to enter was akin to intrusion.
It was a disturbance of routine. It was fall semester of her sophomore year, and she followed the same steps each time she came to the cafeteria to grab lunch on Tuesdays, except for today. Now Amelia was up in her business, asking questions and talking a lot on her own. Alice felt disheartened that she would have to spend the next half hour talking with someone who was probably more interested in the quantity than the quality of conversation. She felt exhausted just anticipating exhaustion, and put a salad on her tray sullenly while Amelia asked her how her classes were.
"They're alright," Alice replied, noncommittally scratching the surface of all the ways she could respond.
"What major are you in?" came the standard follow up question.
"English Literature."
"Oh! I'm a general Liberal Arts major! I'm hoping to take some classes in your department next semester!"
Hm. This could go somewhere, now they had a common track. When they sat down to eat and talk, Alice felt more at ease.
"What sort of things do you do for fun, Alice?"
Uh oh. "I read," Alice started, to give herself time to think. Amelia laughed heartedly in response. "I also like to… write."
"Ooh! What kind of stuff do you write?"
Alice swallowed. Make something up, make something up. "Nothing too exciting, just some fantasy stuff."
"Hm! Cool, cool. You don't strike me as the fantasy literature fan type, but cool!"
Amelia wasn't off the mark. Alice didn't quite write fantasy, or at least the kind of fantasy Amelia was imagining. What she really wrote was fantasy of a different nature, and certainly not the kind you bring up in polite conversation.
"I'd be interested in reading it sometime, if that's okay with you!"
Alice flushed a bit. No way was that going to happen. But in the first place, Amelia was probably saying that as a pleasant formality. There was no way she was actually interested in what Alice was writing. She knew nothing about Alice. "Sure, but none of it's any good."
Amelia enthusiastically disagreed, irritating Alice again. There was no reason for her to have this blind faith in her writing for the sake of appearing friendly.
As they walked down the steps leaving the cafeteria, Amelia turned to Alice. Alice noticed just now that they were the same height, and couldn't help but discreetly trace Amelia's neck down to her cleavage for a second. They weren't standing that close, but Amelia's chest was large enough to noticeably protrude into Alice's space. They were… impressive.
"I'm really glad I got to talk with you! You seem intimidating, but you're just really chill and nice."
"Oh. Thanks. It was nice talking with you as well." They exchanged greetings and the polite promise to meet again sometime, which Alice didn't particularly intend on following up with, and imagined that Amelia didn't mean it wholeheartedly either. But to her surprise, next Tuesday, and the one after that, Amelia bumped into her at the same time, at the same place, and they ate and talked together.
"Do you have a class today?" Alice inquired on the third week. She did, but it was later in the afternoon. So she was going out of her way to eat here on Tuesdays. But why?
"I want to hang out with you," was her straightforward reply.
Alice was stunned and couldn't immediately respond. Normally this level of active pursuit in her life was irritating. She liked to control her space. But she was slightly happy that Amelia had said it so straightforwardly. "Oh. Well." She pushed up her glasses and swallowed. Maybe that was just a thing Amelia said to anyone. She did have lots of friends, after all. And being proactive as well as likable was how she made them.
Alice struggled to find words to reply with. There was a question tugging at her as well: Why?
The conversation moved on, as if that moment was as ordinary as any other. Amelia did not seem bothered by Alice's lack of returned affirmation.
Before they parted in front of the building, Alice couldn't help but notice Amelia's cleavage again. It didn't help that Amelia wore low-cut tank tops. The line between her breasts, pushed against each other by virtue of their size, formed a visual guide up Amelia's neck to her face, or vice versa. Frankly, it was a bit distracting. Alice had been unable to prevent herself from looking several times during the meal today. The way Amelia sat, with her arms folded underneath her breasts and leaning forward on the table, was as if to invite a gaze. But it was probably a habit of Amelia's—she could sit however she wanted, and the fact that it made the room feel a bit hot to Alice was Alice's problem.
When Amelia invited Alice and their mutual friends on a sightseeing trip, Alice noticed how Amelia led the group, but seemed to stay mostly by her side. They were in a coastal town, where the autumn breeze mixed with the air of the sea, sending out reminders of winter to come. Amelia was still wearing a low-cut tank top, of course with a jacket around her shoulders. She seemed warm, and Alice felt it firsthand, as Amelia spent a deal of the trip with herself… pressed against Alice's arm.
Surely it was a gesture of affection, and by this point, two months into their friendship, it was a form of physical contact Alice could reluctantly accept. But it was distracting to feel Amelia's warm, soft breasts pushed against her arm, and to feel Amelia move. When Alice came home from that trip, she sat down at her computer, filled with a newfound burning.
With that burning as fuel, she typed. It had been a while, with all the coursework and readings she prioritized, since she last wrote out her fantasies. She wrote out lewd, vulgar things in coarse language, vaguely mentioning blonde hair, blue eyes, and sun kissed skin somewhere. She pictured a girl in the shower, touching herself, unaware of Alice's watchful gaze, and described the things she longed to do to this girl.
Overwhelmed, Alice went to bed early that night, and woke up from an erotic dream that she couldn't remember. Only the stain in her pants gave any proof of what had taken place during sleep, and with frustration she washed it in her private bathroom.
She could barely look Amelia in the eye that next week—she tried to not look at all, for surely her eye would be drawn below Amelia's face. She tried to stop recalling the vivid sensation of Amelia's chest squished against her arm. Amelia, being aware and perceptive of Alice's discomfort and dodginess, questioned her on this.
"Are you okay?"
An innocent question, yet Alice felt backed into a corner. "I'm fine."
"You don't seem okay," Amelia responded, and Alice felt trapped in an even smaller space.
"No, really, I'm fine." Alice switched the subject after this, not keen on playing back and forth.
Before they parted, Amelia seemed to lose a bit of her energy.
"If I did something to upset you, I'm sorry," Amelia started. "But if it's okay with you, I'd like to know what it was."
Alice finally looked her in the eye, and saw Amelia's concerned and hurt expression. Had she really been that cold? From Alice's perspective, she was trying her best to behave as usual despite feeling standoffish, probably from the shame of having felt desire for her friend. But from Amelia's perspective, Alice probably seemed aloof and unfriendly for a reason Amelia could not discern.
"It's not you," Alice began, unsure of where she was going with this. "It's just been, it's just been a rough week?"
Amelia pondered this. "Hey! I'm going to this book club party this Friday, if you're interested in joining me."
"Book club?" Alice gaped. "You go to a… book club?"
"I'm in Liberal Arts, Alice! I read!"
"Yes, yes, but, there's a book club…?"
"Oh. Well yeah! Actually, we call it a book club, but it's really me and some of my friends from class," Amelia clarified, rubbing her head sheepishly. "We sometimes talk about books, though we mostly focus on having a good time."
"I see." Alice agreed, feeling neutral about being around a bunch of people who knew Amelia but didn't know her. But as they parted ways for the week, she couldn't help but feel excited.
For the rest of the week, Alice woke up from sleep every morning with her pants moist, and with a frustration that was hard to pinpoint. She was not naïve, however. Her frustrations channeled into more writings and became lucid words and images, taking forms that made her frustration only grow stronger.
As with all writings, she posted them to an anonymous blog on the corner of the internet, where her tiny readership acknowledged her work but knew nothing of her identity. It gave her a bit of relief, sending her erotic fantasies out there. In a way, they grew in distance by attaining such scope in access.
That first book club was a tame discussion with a pleasant energy level. A girl named Francoise, whom Alice knew slightly in freshman year, was there as well. She had her arm around Maddie, who seemed very quietly happy about that arrangement.
One of the members mentioned lesbian erotica, and that's when Alice's heart skipped a beat. The atmosphere with which the group responded would decide her experience for the rest of the evening. To her relief and even happiness, the members responded enthusiastically. She couldn't help but look at Amelia with hopeful eyes, waiting for her to join in the conversation.
"Amelia, have you ever read any?" another member asked what Alice wanted to know, but didn't want to admit to wanting to know.
"Yeah, here and there," Amelia answered. "I've actually recently been finding some nice stuff online."
Alice's heart raced. A glimmer of hope and fear rose in her chest. She felt elated, but also nervous. Amelia was not against erotic attraction between women, and in fact enjoyed reading about it. She thought back to how Amelia said, even if only in the name of friendliness, that she was interested in reading Alice's stuff. But that would be way too embarrassing.
Later that week, Alice had a dream that she remembered lucidly. She wrote it down and posted it immediately after waking, without filtering it through the haze that day makes of dream memories. A girl was dancing, and she was watching while sitting on a chair. This girl wore a low cut tank top, so low cut that her bra did most of the coverage, and a short skirt that exposed her ass when she bent over. The girl gradually came closer to her, gyrating her hips and flashing peeks at her panties. When she got close enough, she straddled her onlooker and moved her hips sensually, while her breasts, nearly popping out from underneath her clothes, were right front in her onlooker's face, so close that she could breathe on them.
That Tuesday, Alice had an easier time looking Amelia in the eye. Some of her discomfort still remained, however, as she felt like not all of herself was within her control. She felt more self-conscious than usual, of her own chaste dress and glasses and lips and hair, and could not focus 100% on what the conversation was about. Amelia was as energetic as usual, and Alice felt comfortable bringing out her inner snark, which Amelia would respond to in good humor. Their rapport was beginning to settle into a comfortable dynamic, one that Alice could look forward to.
Come Friday, however, the second book club gathering Alice attended, things were quite different from the previous week. This time, Amelia accompanied her to a house with a muffled hum of clamor and music, and only after a moment did Alice realize that it was in fact, the same house, just with a lively party going on inside. Unsure of herself, she entered the space, stepping into a new atmosphere.
They were greeted enthusiastically. Some faces were familiar from last week, others were vaguely familiar as faces on campus, and some were strangers entirely. The house was decently filled with people—no longer was it an intimate affair, but an anonymous night of gathering. Alice detected the smell of alcohol, and several people were red-faced and lacked the subtlety of sobriety.
"Are you ready to have a good time?" Amelia turned to her apprehensive companion enthusiastically, practically shouting above the general volume.
Alice felt out of her element. She accompanied Amelia as she flitted like a social butterfly from person to person, group to group, making time for each one for no other reason than as if to check off a list of people she had interacted with. Alice didn't know what else to do. Eventually she separated from Amelia and ended up with Maddie, Francoise, and a few others. Francoise was already inebriated, having brought her own wine. Maddie, too, was tipsy and leaning against her, and they were speaking a jarring mix of French and English.
"Ma choupinette," Francoise slurred affectionately, petting Maddie's hair clumsily. "What pretty… cheveux you 'ave…"
"Did you just call me a pretty horse," Maddie whined gently, mishearing Francoise's French. She sleepily let Francoise run her hands through her long blonde hair, loose from its pigtails.
It wasn't much of a mystery was going on between them, so to no one's surprise, Francoise planted a passionate kiss on Maddie's flushed cheek, then another on her lips. The group left them alone after that. The couch in the corner was theirs. Alice was left to wander around until she found Amelia sitting in a circle with other people.
"Hey Alice! Are you interested in a drinking game? We're going through Shakespeare quotes," Amelia called to her.
Someone else joined in. "You take a shot every time there's a quote with a sex joke or toilet humor."
"Wow," Alice said, sounding unimpressed, but joined the circle next to Amelia. As she sat down, she was highly aware of the way Amelia's leg pressed against her in the tight fit of the group.
The group took turns reading excerpts selected at random, some with normal reading voices, others with dramatic flair. Amelia was one of the latter, although she could not help but burst into laughter midway through her reading, and had to stop to take her third shot. She was still coherent by this point.
Alice, on the other hand, was feeling a bit out of control. When it came to her turn to read a selection from Hamlet, she had to stop a few times to relocate herself within the text, and by the time she was done, everyone owed another three shots.
"I, don't think I should drink anymore," Alice grumbled.
"That's fine! That's fine," Amelia repeated, her inebriation only increasing her gregariousness. She even patted Alice on the back a few times too many for emphasis. "I'll count on you to take me home!"
Alice grumbled, but didn't refuse. She went to get a drink of water and observed the rest of the game. Shakespeare didn't hold back, even if Queen Elizabeth was one of his royal patrons. By the time it was decided that everyone should stop, passages were barely understandable, fits of laughter could burst out without cause, and a general loose madness was upon the people. But everyone made sure to eat some snacks and stay hydrated.
She poured Amelia a glass of water, the blonde American not trusting herself to be able to do it at this stage. Laughing lightheartedly for no reason, she took the cup and drank it, not taking her eyes off Alice's for one moment. Alice froze, but couldn't look away. There was something in that gaze that seemed to signal something to her… but it couldn't be that.
"Ah! Thanks," Amelia exclaimed, breaking the eye contact. "That was super refreshing!"
By the time the party had quieted down, and they had exited, Amelia somehow managed to get drunker and had to lean on Alice in the taxi, and on the way home. At first she made a frenzied amount of conversation, asking what Alice thought of the party, how much she had to drink, how she was feeling, if she would come again—nothing invasive, which Alice appreciated. She was slightly tipsy herself, enough so that Amelia's barrage didn't particularly annoy her. In fact, she felt a bit happy.
After a while, though, they sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence, like there was some sort of tension in the air, and Amelia, bless her drunk heart, decided to plop her head against Alice's shoulder like it was the most normal thing to do in the world. Alice flinched but stayed still, wondering if Amelia was falling asleep. Her cleavage was open to Alice's gaze, and her breasts were only inches away from her arm. Alice swallowed and brushed away these dirty thoughts, trying to focus on just getting Amelia home and getting herself home for the night.
They lived in the same building, just on different floors. Amelia still leaned on Alice, her vivacious drunkenness replaced by a sweet sleepiness. Alice felt tender.
As they reached her floor, Amelia did it again. She pressed her breasts against Alice's arm, and Alice tensed up visibly. Nothing was said. Alice didn't know if she was imagining it, but it felt like Amelia was rubbing her breasts against Alice's arm, and Alice knew her face was turning pink. They reached the door, which Amelia opened, and to Alice's surprise, led her inside. Uh.
Amelia's room was surprisingly neat and clean. Alice could've pictured Amelia as the quintessential laidback, messy girl, but Amelia's room was relatively tidy, with the odd article of clothing or stray papers here and there. She was sat down in Amelia's chair, while Amelia offered to bring her some water. So she wanted to hang out some more, alright.
While Amelia was in her kitchenette, Alice couldn't help but stare at her bed. This was where Amelia slept. When Amelia returned, she diverted her gaze to the desk, where a copy of Rubyfruit Jungle lay flat with a bookmark in it.
"Oh. That's a good book," Alice commented. Amelia set the glass of water down and stood behind the chair. "I read it when I was in…" she hadn't finished her sentence before she felt hands on her shoulders.
She was suddenly aware that all she could hear was herself breathing. The room was silent, save for the rustle of Amelia's clothes when she walked. The hand on her shoulder rotated and Amelia walked around to the front of the chair, removed her jacket and sat right on Alice's lap. Alice watched her with wide eyes, her face growing redder by the second. Amelia's crotch was squished against the surface of her thighs. Her hands moved up to Alice's face, cupping her cheeks and she leaned in close. Alice smelled the lingering sting of alcohol as Amelia kissed her, neither gently nor forcefully, but slowly, pulling her into an embrace.
Never in Alice's dreams did she imagine Amelia would want to kiss her. Surely alcohol was playing a huge role—Amelia must be out of her mind. And Alice, too, for kissing her back, moving her lips in sync. She felt Amelia squish those glorious breasts up against her chest, and within her rose an utter bliss.
She felt something warm, and frankly slimy enter her mouth. It was tongue. Amelia was using tongue. To make room, Alice had to open her own mouth wider, which felt incredibly intimate and perverted, and felt her tongue slide next to Amelia's. It was wet and messy, but Alice caught glimpses of Amelia's face desperately kissing her own and forgot immediately. Her mind was being absorbed into a fantasy, where she was brave enough to grope the body burning with lust in front of her, be it the breasts pressed against her or the hips and crotch that were thrusting against her lap sensually, as if to beg for her hand.
When she felt a hand move up her dress, she froze. Realizing it where Amelia's hand wanted to go, she pushed Amelia away.
"I have to go."
Without another word, she left flustered into the night, accidentally slamming the door behind her.