It gets a little dirty.


Dear X,

Turns out Santana's parents decided last minute to make a surprise visit to her brother in Italy. I think it's probably because they need to check on him; San wasn't the only one in her family that um… got around a bit- we used to listen in on him getting shouted at for having girls over too much and I'm pretty sure one time, he got a girl on our cheerios squad pregnant - her baby didn't turn out hispanic though. Anyway, they said me and San could use their holiday home in Florida for a week, since it'd be a shame not to use it this year.

San had already asked my dance teacher if it was okay for me to miss a week of rehearsal, and he said it was fine 'cause I already had the choreography down (fuck yeah) and they needed to focus on bringing the others up to speed for a bit anyway. She'd asked my parents already too, and been to my house to pack my stuff so that we could set off straight from the theatre. I was actually pretty disappointed that I didn't get to go home first; I couldn't remember the last time I showered, and next to San I looked like one of those greasy girls from the AV club… the ones with the moustaches.

It's difficult to be mad at someone who's perfect though, so I forgot about it quickly enough. Besides, after our little tumble in the theatre, we were both pretty sweaty.

We took turns driving down the freeway, even though we were in San's car, because it's nice to have breaks and I'm actually a pretty good driver too. We're totally different drivers though; Santana goes fast and she can even do hand-break turns, you know like the sexy characters in action movies? Think Megan Fox but hotter. She loves screeching to a stop, then stepping out of the car with shades on, and throwing a jacket (preferably leather) over her shoulder as she struts away. It is so fucking hot.

Her brother's the reason she drives like that; when they were both at McKinley they used to race each other home. At first it was so that they could get control of the good TV (God knows why - they have more than enough for everyone to watch whatever they want), or call dinner, but after a while it turned into a matter of pride. I know so many shortcuts now, after riding home with San, like which traffic lights take aaages, and ways around them.

So, I don't drive like her, because I don't have a manic brother, but I'm good. People think I'm a bad driver because it took me so long to pass my test, but that was just because I get my lefts and rights confused, so when the examiner guy told me to turn left sometimes I turned right by accident. It's not like that now though because nobody tells me to go left or right. If Santana's giving directions she holds up her hand, or points in that direction.

We listened to our playlist in the car - we made it one night at San's house. Both our favourite artists and songs are on one of those tiny sticks that you can plug into your computer, and Santana's car has a port for it too, so we put it in and press the 'shuffle' button because it's fun to mix up Britney (Spears) and Billie (Holiday). It's like, they shouldn't work together, but they totally do; it keeps it fresh and it keeps us on our toes, you know, musically. One minute Santana's rasping her way through 'You Know I'm No Good', and the next, we can be singing 'Sleazy' out the sunroof… but that usually leads to some kind of reaction from the cars around us. The reaction depends on who sees; frat boys like it way more than old couples.

On this particular journey we were getting a lot of Winehouse, so I wanted to skip a track, but that's against the rules. We've never skipped a track, even though sometimes the 'shuffle' feature doesn't seem to have done a very good job of shuffling. One time we got the entire soundtrack to The Little Mermaid, it was so awesome! Santana still swears I rigged it.

A brief clash of cymbals followed by a (pretty funky) reggae beat told me we had been graced with yet another of Amy's delights so I took my chances, and reached out to press the 'skip' button. Before I could touch the button I felt a gentle grip on my wrist; even while driving she's got eyes like a bastard hawk.

I turned my head to look into those hawk eyes and plead my case, but a soft smirk greeted me, before her lips parted and the lyrics of the first refrain came husking out as she went back to watching the road. I kept my eyes on Santana and couldn't help but crack a smile; the beat was super catchy so my foot started to tap, and I let it take over the top half of my body too, rolling my shoulders in time with her voice.

I was caught a bit off guard when she next looked over to me; her eyes bore into mine, but she kept smiling,

"I don't want to bother you but I'm in distress

There's danger of me losing all my happiness"

Eyes back to the road. Her voice blended perfectly with the song, but where Amy said 'man' Santana added an extra syllable to the beginning - 'wo-man'.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful - so carefree and happy.

Smiling eyes back to me. Another alteration.

"I swear I'm gonna love [her] until eternity"

My heart smiled back and a new energy took over my dancing. We carried on like that until the end of the song - me dancing in my seat and Santana belting it out like nobody's business. She is totally fucking incredible you know.

After getting our jam on I was pretty tired, especially since I hadn't slept in my own bed for a couple of nights, and you never sleep as good in someone else's house, so I reclined my seat a little and closed my eyes. The music got quieter; Santana must have turned the volume down, and Amy's voice ended abruptly, to be replaced by Adele's.

At first I thought I was dreaming; the voice, quiet, almost whispered, but thick with emotion, seemed to be coming from nowhere, and everywhere, in the blackness.

Then I realised I just still had my eyes shut.

I kept them closed, unwilling to disturb Santana, and content to listen. I'll always want to listen. I think her voice is the most beautiful in the world.

I recognised the song - it was still Adele, so I assume she'd switched our playlist stick for the CD. Forget lyrics; we've listened to this album so many times we know the exact timing of every breath. It's probably some kind of record - the number of times we've listened to it… at least, without having the excuse of going through a traumatic break-up. She was singing 'Lovesong'.

It could have been a dream; I let Santana's whispered vocals carry me through my own thoughts, and I listened so closely I could hear her lips parting each time she drew a shaky breath.

Her voice thickened,

"Whatever words I say I will always love you"

and broke,

"I will always love y-"

My eyes fluttered open instinctively, but she was still staring out ahead. Even though she wasn't wearing make-up, tears had streaked her face, and the lips she sucked in to swallow hard had gotten redder, to form a sorrowful pout I desperately wanted to kiss away.

But it wasn't a moment meant for me.

I closed my eyes slowly, the movement forcing out the drop of wetness that had gathered, and allowing it to make it's escape down my face, before I drifted away again.

It was pretty late when we decided to pull over into a shabby looking motel; even though we both love car rides and driving, we needed a rest. We sat in the parking lot for a couple of minutes while Santana checked out the people who went in - she said she wanted to make sure we weren't gonna be overrun with creepers, but she seemed satisfied after a young family walked in so we grabbed our bags and headed in.

The reception desk was in a tiny brown hallway that looked like it had been decorated by my Great Aunt Glennys, and it smelled a lot like her dead hamster collection. The guy on reception looked super old, I was a bit worried he might just drop dead, and he seemed kinda dense - he didn't look up from his game of solitaire the whole time (and I could tell there was no way he could win that hand). San did the talking and asked for a room for the night while I stood by her side, my pinkie firmly wrapped around hers.

Solitaire Man asked if we wanted a double bed or two singles, and I got ready to step in, just in case, as I stole a sideways glance at Santana. She didn't miss a beat.

"Double"

She unwrapped her pinkie from mine and linked our fingers together, giving me a squeeze that sent a spark all the way up my arm and into my heart. You know when people say they feel like their heart could burst? I always thought that was impossible, but now I know what it feels like. It feels super awesome.

The first thing I did when we got to our room was run into the shower. I'm pretty sure I literally smelled like something a cat had peed on. I could hear San laughing at me through the paper-thin walls but I didn't care; it was for her benefit as much as mine. Even though it was a shitty motel shower that the water pretty much dribbled out of, it felt good. It did take me ages to wash my hair though, you know, to get all the suds out.

When I walked back into our room San was lied on the bed in her pyjamas. We have the same pyjamas… but actually they're just old cheerios t-shirts and boxer shorts. We used to collect boxers from the guys we did, then give them to each other. I don't know why… it was funny at the time but it seems kinda gross now, even though we did wash them first. Anyway, last Christmas San bought me some girl boxers; she says they make my ass look perky and cute, so I bought some for her too (she was totally right; her ass looks super fine in them) and now we wear those ones for bed instead.

I climbed onto the bed and lay down at her side, because my hair was still kinda damp and I didn't want to make her cold. I felt her warm hand close around mine and looked down to see her thumb lazily stroking the back of my hand. There was a red light cast over us, from the 'Gentlemen's Club' across the street - it made me feel weird, sort of uncomfortable I guess. I frowned and bit my lip. Santana looked down too, to see what I was staring at, and asked what was wrong, so I told her about the light making me feel weird.

She pulled my hand up to her mouth and gently pressed her lips to my fingers, turning to face me at the same time. Her eyebrows were furrowed, just a tiny bit, as her eyes searched me. She reached out, to brush a lose strand of wet hair off my face, before telling me that neither of us would ever have to go into a 'Gentlemen's Club'. She spat out the word 'gentlemen', like it made her physically sick. I smiled. She smiled. I pulled her close, forgetting about my damp hair, and our lips met in a searing kiss that made my downstairs burn, and gave me an idea. A giggle escaped from my mouth into hers and she pulled back, questioning me with her eyes.

I pushed her shoulders back so that she was lying on the bed with me hovering over her, and I moved my head to the side of hers, resting my chin on her shoulder as I let my mouth brush against her ear. I whispered huskily,

"You'll never have to go in one 'cause you've got me."

I'm not entirely sure what made me say it, or what I was thinking, but I was totally in the mood, and San likes role-play so I went with it. Throwing one leg over her body I sat up, arching my back and flicking my hair around, to straddle her hips, and I started to hum lowly, grinding into her slowly to the tune I had made up.

While rolling my hips I tucked my thumb into the waistband of my boxers and started to pull them down, throwing back my head and biting my lower lip, while using my free hand to run through my hair. I stopped pulling on the waistband before the big reveal and let it snap back into place, much to the dismay (judging by the expression on her face) of my tortured girlfriend. Next, I started pulling down on the bottom of my shirt, then pulling it up a little to show the abs I've worked hard to keep toned for the last three years. I licked my lips and closed my eyes, concentrating on my humming and the rhythm of my hips that was giving me at least some satisfaction.

A touch broke my concentration. Santana's fingers were reaching to hold onto my thighs, and most probably my ass, before I slapped them away.

I put on my best throaty New Yorker accent, "No touching in here honey. That's not what we do." and winked.

San got it immediately and retracted her hands, smirking. There's nothing better than knowing she loves what I'm doing, it makes me feel so sexy.

I was feeling super fucking hot, so I changed the direction of my grinding, to roll my hips in a circular motion and pulled my shirt up more to show a flash of nipple that I knew would drive Santana crazy, before letting it fall dow again. Her eyes begged me not to tease, and I kinda liked the control, especially the control I had over my own pleasure; I was grinding faster now, and breathing more heavily. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer; Santana had started to buck her hips and I could see her chest rising and falling faster than it was before. She's such a turn on.

I did a body-roll, or as much of a body-roll as you can do sitting down, and pulled my t-shirt off over my head, whipping it around a few times for good measure before throwing it off to the side. I leaned down over her again, letting our boobs rub against each other as I brought my mouth down to hers. So close. I let her taste my breath, then I whispered, "Wanna touch?" so she could feel the words as I breathed them out.

I assumed the tortured moan she let out meant yes, so I slid my hand into her hair, and dropped quick kisses on her throat, while I let my other hand glide down her chest, briefly caressing her, before sliding my fingers into her waistband. I looked into her eyes as I finally allowed our lips to meet again, and her kiss became desperate and heated as I felt her buck into me again. A smile danced across my lips as my fingers found her most sensitive spot and I felt her hot moisture. I sensed pressure on the back of my head as her hand came up to pull our faces closer together, as though if she tried hard enough, she could sink herself into me.

My fingers moved further down slowly before two found the sweet entrance, and pressed gently. I admit I was cruel; I waited, teasing her, until I heard a stifled, anguished wail, then, I pushed in, eliciting a low hum of gratification that made everything worth it.

I removed my lips from hers briefly to suck at her now prominent pulse point, before donning my (rather impressive) New Yorker accent once more,

"You'll have to pay extra for this baby."

Love From B.


My dearest readers, take a minute, if you would, to let me know whether you like the raunchy new side to this story and want more, or if you would prefer me to continue sin el sexo.

Thank you in advance.