Red Ribbon
I feel unsure now; a bit out-of-control and suddenly shy and I'm not sure yet whether or not I like it. Part of me can't believe I'm really doing this-- What happened to being a good girl, Youko?-- but I suppose I haven't been a "good girl" since she first seduced me that drunken night a few months ago.
Now we meet a few times a month for conversation, or sex, or sometimes both. We are not in a relationship. Relationships are for people who want something more from each other, and I know that Sei, at least, is content with what we have right now. I tell myself that I'm content with it, too, and really, I am. I've never really been sure what exactly I wanted from her, other than to be closer to her, to make her happy, to feel her touch. And I have that now.
Besides, I'm too busy with my studies to want a relationship. If I did want one, I would respond to the clumsy advances of the boy in my business seminar who always smiles at me and who I know is always watching me when nobody's looking. I bet he wants a relationship, followed by engagement, marriage, and 2.3 children. Pity that's not what I want out of life. Right now I want a career more than I want a family, and having her in my life is enough to satisfy my emotional needs.
I carefully don't think about the future, about what will happen when she meets her next Shiori; after all, going to Lillian University, she's sure to meet someone. And then she'll no longer need me, I'll no longer be a part of her life. When she focuses on one thing, that's the only thing that matters to her--the rest of the world fades into obscurity, and me with it. I've never wondered what things would be like if I were the focus of that interest, because I've always thought of myself as a practical person, and I know when something is impossible.
My train of thought is suddenly cut off as Sei climbs on top of me, the soft skin of her legs with its fine blond hairs brushing teasingly against my freshly-shaved skin as she gets comfortable. She settles with her arms on either side of my chest, her breasts lightly pressing against mine and her weight pressing me into the futon from her belly down. She's a little heavy, but I don't bother complaining--I've learned from experience that it will only encourage her mischievous side.
"You think too much," she complains teasingly, looking down at my face as she leans over me. I feel oddly vulnerable like this, with my movement restricted by her weight and the ribbon, and I'm fairly sure it's not a feeling I like. I like being in control and managing things and people, and it's hard to let go and trust someone else to take care of me. But I suppose that if I trust anyone to do that, it should be her, so I gather my determination and look up to meet her gaze, trying to silently convey the message, I trust you.
There's something in her eyes right now that's softer, sweeter, than usual. Something that creates a sweet bloom of pain in my chest and causes a lump to form in my throat. She's never looked at me like that before, and I tell myself that it's because it's the first time we've tried this. I won't let myself think that it's because she cares about me, or loves me, or anything like that, because I'm too practical to succumb to false hope.
Then she leans down and kisses me, and it's sweet and wonderful, and I realize that today will be about gentleness rather than passion, even though we're trying something that's, well, a bit kinky.
As she kisses her way down my body, I have to remind myself several times to concentrate on the moment and not think about the look that was in her eyes. It's not until her lips and fingers have driven me beyond the realm of thought that I'm finally, blissfully, free of it.
And yet, as orgasm hits me, it's her face in that moment I see, her eyes with that strange sweetness. And I'm crying out her name in my mind, a silent caress that I refuse to voice, both for fearing she'll hear the depth of emotion I'm feeling and for not wanting to do something so distastefully cliche.
It colors my afterglow, adding a charge of elation and uncertainty to the otherwise pleasant fuzziness. The feeling never quite fades, refuses to disappear from my mind, though I do manage to relegate it to a back corner. As she unties my wrists and helps me massage the feeling back into them, as I turn the tables and gently bind her wrists, as she comes, moaning quietly, the thought keeps coming back: What did it mean?
But I won't let myself dwell on it, and I certainly won't ask. After we've dressed again and Sei has left, I turn to my homework again with my usual single-mindedness, feeling a touch of gratitude that it's there for me to focus on.
As I pull the futon out again hours later and get in for the night, I force myself to think about school, family, Sachiko, anything but her.
I've been getting rather good at that over the years, and a single look is hardly enough to break my iron discipline. It isn't. And it means nothing. No reason to dwell on it. None at all.
I drift off with a smile on my face, remembering.