o1.
Her skin was pale like sunkissed peaches, setting off her faded hay-coloured hair that hid honey-coloured roots. She coated herself in paints for drawings she called "just adequate" but Marci preferred to say "breath-taking" just like the tawny eyes and sweet lips that always stole hers away.
o2.
She was not exactly sure how she did that with her mouth, but when her lips kissed her skin (down her neck, down her chest, wrapping around a chocolate kiss of a budding nipple), Marci could not do anything but hold her head back and pant. She wished she could see her, that there was no blindfold blocking her vision and keeping her from seeing the woman driving her insane with each exciting nip and apologising kiss.
o3.
She held her phone in her hands and started to think about her, about how she was so far, too far on her family trip and wondered if the contusions she had painted on her neck still coloured the apricot canvas violet and blue. She wondered if she hid them under turtlenecks and sweaters or bravely showed them, telling everyone "I'm hers , and she's mine".
o4.
It was addicting and intoxicating, and Jeanne thought this was better than if she smoked the entire stash of dead green leaves she hid at the bottom of her coat closet. The kisses burned her up in a pleasant way as pretty white teeth, courtesy of way too expensive dental care, bit down into the flesh there. She was pale from working inside all day, and she melted at the way Marci called her "a beautiful porcelain doll" or "honey blonde" when she was feeling especially courageous. Today was one of those days, and cinnamon coloured fingers were reaching up a darker hue of brown skirt to touch the flesh there. She rolled her hips on her knee, able to feel her heat and need has pushed down the uniformed socks Marci had to wear.
"Jeanne, you're making me late again..." Jeanne heard the words mumbled against her skin and only laughed from lips decorated with two silver studs ('snake bites' she had told Marci when she asked).
"Hey, come on. Skipping clas-s is the new punk rock," Jeanne replied like the trashbaby she was, the words leaving her mouth in excited pants. Besides, it was Marci who brought her to the coat closet and initiated a 'quickie' would be nice to help ease her nerves before her last period final. "Besides, you'll make it to your maths class, so no worries." She rubbed against her as she spoke, feeling Marci shudder as she kissed her lips.
Absolutely no worries at all.
o5.
She worried her lip between her teeth as she felt Jeanne's tongue lapping between the course hairs of her leaking heat. She could feel it pressing past the lips and inside of her as she tried to stay calm. There was a thin layer of fabric between that delicious mouth and her flesh that kept her bared down on earth. "Bet I can make you come in your tights," Jeanne had proposed, and Marci definitely could not disagree with the offer. She could always buy a new pair anyway.
o6.
"Hey, you're in intermediate math are you?"
Jeanne turned the voice with an impassive face, but a scowl hinting at her lips. There was a smudge of ink on her face from the monochromatic monster (it was humanoid but monstrous inside, crushing down a small village) and even more on her fingers. The smell filled the small art room, but Jeanne was accustomed to it by now and only knew it was there by how the girl ("Brazilian probably," she had thought) spoke to her with a hinted accent and a monstrous preppy sweater. She raised a brow. Not many people had the tits to talk to her so boldly and especially about maths - her least favourite subject. "What of it?"
The girl smiled, and Jeanne knew right then she was trouble. Her heart sped some at the mere sight of it. No one, absolutely no one, could smile that genuinely. It was just not possible. "Maybe I can help?"
It was then Jeanne noticed the Calculus textbook tucked under her arm and the tights she wore that were decorated with mathematical symbols. ("Dork," she had thought this time.) She stared at them and could see that the girl moved her feet nervously under her heavy and judgemental gaze.
"Whatcha want in return?" she asked.
"Just a favour..." The words were slow, hesitant, and Jeanne brought her eyes up back to her face. The brown eyes were still on her, but they were nervous. The smile was wavering too. Jeanne just shrugged thinking whatever this girl wanted couldn't be too bad. She was not ready to be pushed back another year in her maths class. She nodded and tossed out a "fine" as she dipped a slender finger back into the ink.
"Meet me after school then. I'll be here."
She could hear the girl nod and thought how sweet she looked. The girl probably wanted help getting a date. Jeanne had a bad temper and was bad at boys and girls, keeping them at least. She could date pretty easily as long as she didn't think too much of them. That girl was different although. She remembered the dorky tights and Brazilian skin (and oh no, that saccharine smile), and a word came to her lips.
"Innocent," she said not knowing that was the last thing Marci Bott was.
o7.
She nestled herself in the arms of Marci's obnoxiously pink sweater and listened to the girl humming a Christmas tune above her. She had not told her why she came over, not about how her parents had left her alone on Christmas Eve for an office party without telling her and gave every housekeeper leave. She had not told her about how lonely she was in the big huge house by herself or how her arms felt like home.
She did not need to.
Marci already knew.
o8.
"Why'd you stop?" Marci had just fallen against her back. Jeanne's skin was still sticky with sweat, and the ace babydoll nightie she wore was sticking to her skin in a manner that was neither or pleasant, just there. She could feel Marci panting but softly as she wrapped arms covered in a constellation of freckles around her waist.
"Hey Jeanne, what if we stopped doing this?"
Jeanne tensed at the idea, absolutely froze. She laughed softly. "That's ridiculous. It's fun right? And I need to repay you for our help somehow." It hurt to get out the words. She moved against Marci to try to motivate her out of whatever she was feeling.
Marci shook her head. She could feel her nose against the back of her neck. It almost felt like a nuzzle. She counted Marci's breaths before she spoke again.
"Not really. I want to be more..."
The words were barely heard, but they screamed to Jeanne's heart. Jeanne tensed and moved to step away. Marci was still there, no longer sexy in the lace underwear but vulnerable looking as Jeanne went to lift up her pants from the carpet.
"If you're not into it, we could figure something else out. Call me okay?" She was going to pretend she had not heard it. She was going to pretend her heart did not stop, her lungs did not cease to work quite right. She was going to pretend she was fine with dropping this whole thing and moving to a more normal, more formal relationship between them (if that was possible).
Marci was still standing n the middle of her bedroom as Jeanne slipped on her leather jacket and headed toward the door. She almost stopped to run back to her, but she just wasn't ready. She couldn't do this. So she did what she was always used to, what felt safe and left her with a lot of regrets but a lot less worry - she walked away.
o9.
"Hey Marci? I'm sorry. Call me back okay?" Jeanne breathe the words into the receiver, the cell phone nestled between her ear and shoulder as she talked into the voicemail box. Her arms were wrapped around her in a beige sweater that definitely was too large and definitely not hers, and her black skinny-jean clad legs were pulled to her chest.
"Please call me back. I'm sorry..." Her voice was cracking. She wasn't ready, but she was willing. If staying apart hurt this much, being together would be better right? She was going to give in and just let herself fall into a four-letter word that was always spoken in lies to her before.
"Marci, I love you."
1o.
The apartment was small and cramped, and they only had a bed inside of it and a bunch of luggage. The UHaul was supposed to come in the morning. Jeanne flopped on the bed with a sigh, bare with nothing on after her shower. She rolled around in the sheets imprinting herself on them. She laughed into a white pillow as she thought about it. This was theirs. Their house. Their room. Theirs.
She did not even hear her lover come in, only felt her as she fell on top of her and slipped her arms under Jeanne's body to cradle her abdomen. "You're like a chocolate lab," Jeanne laughed and squirmed some in fake protest as Marci nuzzled a nice spot between her ear and nape. She could hear Marci hum and then make a soft "woof" before they both collapsed into laughter.
11.
It had started as a joke. Jeanne wore an outfit from Marci's closet, and Marci wore something from hers. It was just that when Marci slipped on a pair of Jeanne's black lace underwear, frowning at the way they pinched at her hips (Jeanne was all skin and bones - it was a miracle Marci even managed them over her thick hips). Jeanne could not help but ask if they could do something a little more exciting ("if you get what I'm saying").
That was how she ended up doubled over her mother's desk with Marci's tongue inside of her and a gag between her kiss-bruised lips. Shit, they should try on each other's clothes more often.
12.
Marci's fingers slid into her hair, black waves damp and curling up from her shower. She panted as she fondled her breast, the entire thing not fitting in her too small hands. She pressed herself against the bathroom wall, letting it stick against the skin as she rubbed her nipples against the flat surface. That was much better. She kept going as she reached in between her thighs and stroked her fingers against a bud, her clitoris, hard between her thighs. She licked her lips and could taste the water of the now lukewarm shower on her skin. "Please Jeanne," she breathed as she thought of her friend-with-benefits, wishing it was her hand instead of her own slipping into her as she gasped. "Fuck."
Her fingers were growing slicker from something not water as she pressed them against the places that made her tingle the most. She struggled to keep composure as she panted and quivered. This was not quite enough. It made her hot, but... She let out a frustrated sigh and slid her fingers out. Damn, and she thought that would work. Seemed she could only come the same as with Jeanne was with Jeanne. She sighed as she padded out of the shower (washing her hands first) before slipping into a towel and heading to her bedroom. She could hear her brother yelling a "finally!" as she shut her bedroom door glad to see his sister finally emerging from her shower.
She did not bother to put on clothes as she laid down on her bed. She laid there for a few minutes before closing her eyes and sliding her hand back between her thighs. Another try couldn't hurt could it?
13.
Marci liked to tell Jeanne their lips fit together, and Jeanne liked to agree.