Some more in-depth warnings: this will have sex and is an age difference fic.
"I love you with a love that reaches you on the other shore. That dark, unknown shore where, in order to follow you, my love stumbles forth blindly, bleeding, but always holding you tight."
- from "Poem XCI", Absolute Solitude: Selected Prose Poems by Dulce Maria Loynez, trans. James O'Connor.
"And how long did you say you'd be gone for?" Santana asked from her position against the doorframe of Rachel's bedroom. Beyond the bags, the folded clothes, the toiletry packed into a satchel, weak light filtered in from the gap in the curtains. Early November in New York showed up in greys and muted blues through the skies and the buildings that made up the city's infamous skyline. Santana, with her arms crossed, eyed Rachel with thinly-veiled concern masked by a small frown.
"I didn't," Rachel said. Chipper though her tone may be, Rachel could see in the way Santana scoffed and raised her brow that she did not believe her, even for a second. She rested her hands on her hips, followed Rachel as she puttered around their shared apartment, ensuring that she had everything she needed. She grabbed her backpack and stuffed a book, a magazine, and a small snack bag of organic corn chips inside.
"You mean to tell me that you'll be in Ohio – the place you and I both swore off of more than five years ago – for an indefinite amount of time?" Santana grabbed Rachel's arm to keep the woman from fidgeting for just one second. "Rachel, what the fuck is happening? What won't you tell me?"
Rachel brushed off Santana's grip and offered her nothing but a one-shoulder shrug. She reached for her keys – but hesitated. With a clenched fist, she left her keyring on the side table and faced her best friend.
"My flight is in a couple of hours. Are you driving me to the airport or am I going to have to take a cab?"
Santana sighed and palmed her forehead. "Come on – I'll drive you. But don't think for one second that I'm letting you off the hook."
Together and with Rachel dragging her luggage – the same one she used when she left Ohio for the first (and last, she had once hoped) time – behind her, they headed to their shared, beat-up sedan parked a block away from their apartment. Immediately, like vultures, crawling cars eyed their parking spot while Rachel heaved her luggage into the trunk. She stuffed her backpack into the backseat and rode shotgun.
Santana maneuvered out of their parking spot and drove towards the direction of the airport that would take Rachel out of New York and back to where she started. She watched the familiar sights pass her by – the closest bodega with the tastiest vegan breakfast sandwich, Santana's favourite café, their favourite karaoke bar. And then suddenly she wanted to change her mind. Wanted to stay – despite him, despite everything she learned about him.
Rachel glanced towards Santana and noted the way she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She drummed her fingertips against the wheel. Her leg bounced.
"God, I need a cigarette," she muttered.
"I'll still help you pay for rent," Rachel said. "If that's what you're worried about."
"What? No – shit, Rachel, I don't give a fuck — though I will take you up on that. I'm worried about your dramatic ass suddenly fucking off back to Ohio and you won't tell me why," Santana slammed the heel of her hand against the car horn when an obtrusive BMW jerked into her lane in front of her without using turn signals. She glanced at Rachel. "Does it have anything to do with last night?"
Rachel stiffened her jaw and clenched her fists, and then immediately unclenched them. "Yes – but I won't say anything beyond that."
"I knew it — I knew it had something to do with your turd of a fiancé."
"We're not together anymore," Rachel muttered. "Not that he knows that, but still."
Santana snorted and cruised down the winding curve of the highway that led to the airport. Took the Departures lane and joined the traffic jam packed with vehicles and buses all filled with people scrambling to leave New York. "What should I tell him if he comes knocking?"
"Tell him to fuck off."
Santana smirked. "Will do."
She pulled up by the curb and stepped out to help Rachel with her bags. She hesitated for a split-second but she yanked Rachel's arm to pull her into a rough hug. Rachel buried her nose against the curve of Santana's shoulder. Inhaled the nose-tingling familiarity of her perfume. She squeezed her friend's waist.
"You know, usually when people are going through something, they fuck off to Europe or, I don't know, New Zealand or something. Not return to their backwater hometown. There's nothing new back there." Santana mumbled against Rachel's brow.
Rachel laughed. "That's the point. I don't want to see anything new, don't want to experience anything new. I want boring, drama-free Ohio."
Santana sighed and kissed Rachel's forehead. "I don't know about drama free, but alright. Call me when you land."
"I will. Thank you, Tana."
"Eh, it's nothing," she shrugged. "What the hell are friends for?"
The wall of the blackboard swam with blurred white lines as Quinn yawned for the fifth time. It was only second period. She scrubbed the heel of her palm against her eyelids and yawned again – not bothering to hide it from the teacher who had her back turned towards the class anyway as she droned on and on about chemical nomenclature and pericyclic reactions while scribbling on the board in front of her. The steady rhythm of the teacher's voice and the soothing scrape of the chalk against the board's surface lulled Quinn to near-sleep.
Beside her, Finn nudged her with his shoulder. "Hey, Quinn. I don't think I'm in the right class."
Quinn blinked. "Finn, what are you doing in Honours Chemistry?"
"I don't know," he half-whined, half-whispered. "Shit – I might have grabbed Kurt's schedule by mistake."
"You know it's already November, right? You haven't memorized your schedule yet?"
Finn's mouth open and closed before he sighed and slumped on his desk. "I'm screwed. Senior year and I'm still going to the wrong classes. You know I forgot I was taking US History last year? I found my textbook in my locker when I was cleaning it out at the end of the year."
Quinn winced. "Your GPA must be atrocious."
"What does the map on my phone have to do with school?"
She shook her head and patted his shoulder. "That's a GPS. You know what? Don't worry about it."
The class period ended and with Finn, Quinn stepped out of the classroom, arms outstretched over her head. It was already November so her hair, dyed a more vibrant, almost neon pink at the start of the school year, had faded into pastel hues. She retouched it around Halloween time, so it was not completely washed out just yet. From behind them, Kurt approached and handed his stepbrother a folded piece of paper.
"Here's your schedule. Memorize it!"
"Do you take Honours Chemistry?" Quinn asked him.
"I'm too pretty for that class. Why do you ask?"
"This isn't even your schedule?!" Finn held up the now-meaningless piece of paper. "Where the hell did I even get it from?"
Kurt sighed and rubbed his temples. "Bye."
"You should take a photo of your actual schedule, in case you lose the paper again," Quinn suggested. "I'm off to my next class."
"Good idea. I'll see you in glee, right?"
Quinn spun to face Finn as she walked backwards with a shrug. "Maybe!"
"Quinn, you have to! Sectionals is this weekend!"
She darted off into the crowd and left the interior of the school building of McKinley High through the side doors. There were security cameras everywhere but she knew for a fact that the guard that was supposed to watch over the feeds was either asleep or smoking pot with the hockey coach anyway, so it did not matter. Quinn ducked under the bleachers where she found her – she wouldn't really call them her friends. They were more her smoking buddies.
"I can't believe you still go to class," Sheila said, shaking her head as she passed Quinn a lit cigarette.
She took it, sucked, and blew a gust of smoke out of puckered lips. "Yeah, well. I'd still hate it if Figgins gets wind of me skipping and tells my mom."
"Oh yeah – isn't she in the PTA?" The Mack snickered, snatching the cigarette from Quinn so she could take a hit. "Geez, next thing you know you'll be inviting us to potluck dinners and asking us to fundraise for starving African children."
"Where do I sign up?" Ronnie asked.
"It was a joke."
"But if you're really interested I'm sure we can look up some non-profits you can help out," Quinn offered.
"Thanks, Quinn. That'd be nice."
Mack rolled her eyes. "Oh Christ, look at what you've done to them."
"And what's wrong with giving back to charity, huh?" Sheila demanded.
Quinn shook her head with a resigned smile. She chose to stay quiet while she smoked, despite Mack's angry glare. "You've corrupted them with your holier than thou attitude and you know it. But you and I both know that it's all an act. You're no better than any of us." She smacked the cigarette that had wound its way back to Quinn's possession once again and stormed off, her boots crunching hard against the gravel.
"What's wrong with her?" Quinn asked, accepting a breath mint from Ronnie with her thanks.
"Don't worry about it. Her boyfriend left her again and you know how she gets. He'll be back to her by sundown and she'll stop being a bitch. Or – I guess she'll be less of one," Sheila sighed and shook her head. "She never learns."
Quinn bumped fists with Sheila and Ronnie and slipped inside the school building just as the bell rang for lunch.
Should she attend glee, or should she not attend glee?
That was the question.
Quinn loitered by her locker, swapping books in her bag for other ones while she checked the list of homework due over the next couple of days. Since Mr. Schuester's impermanent and very publicized break-up with the school's guidance counselor, Ms. Pillsbury, his lessons have been lackluster and all centering around ideas on love, straight people romance, and begging them for ideas on how to win her back. And frankly, Quinn was tired of his not-quite-midlife crisis centering around his potential second marriage. It was nauseating to be around him.
Sucking her teeth, Quinn made the conscious choice to skip glee, promising herself she would attend the next meeting. She left the school through the same side exit she went through earlier that day to walk towards the bus stop.
Since her mom divorced her dad, Judy Fabray endeavoured to cut corners in their lavish lifestyle and the gas guzzler of a Rolls Royce was the first to go. It was her mom's car – a present from Russell Fabray for their tenth year anniversary, a gift Judy rarely used in the first place. So now, Judy used Quinn's red Beetle to drive to work and Quinn rode the bus to and from school. Or sometimes, she would grab a ride with Finn.
Quinn stepped off the bus and started the ten-minute walk to the house – another fact of life that changed after the divorce. Since Russell refused to budge on the house, Judy moved out, Quinn along with her. Now they live in a neighbourhood with smaller houses, with one-car garages rather than four. Quinn lived in the neighbourhood for about a year now, and she still enjoyed the walk to and from the bus stop. She loved passing by the flower-rich gardens, the lawns overrun with weeds, waving hello to the dogs on their walks, and greeting the kids who played basketball and street hockey in the middle of the street. She vastly preferred it to the gated neighbourhood of her childhood where everything was still and distant and isolating.
She caught sight of her driveway, empty which meant her mom was still at work. Over the hedge that separated their property with their neighbours, she saw their car just pull into their driveway. The two men stepped out of their vehicle, along with a woman with long, flowing brown hair. She wore a grey coat over a black turtle neck, long black leather boots and a short plaid skirt.
Quinn pretended to look through the mail – the box stuffed to the brim with flyers and real estate offers – while she snuck a peek in the direction of her neighbour's driveway. They pulled out a wheeled luggage from the back of their SUV. The two men looked happy, excited to have the woman in their home. With Quinn's continued stare, she realized that the woman, in fact, looked familiar. She remembered seeing her before whenever she and her mom had dinner with the Berrys – an event that occurred every month.
She was the woman in the wall of photos in their living room. What was her name again?
Quinn kept looking as she racked her brain to remember. The woman met her eyes and Quinn stiffened. Looked away. The flames of embarrassment heated her cheeks.
She fumbled with her keys and managed to unlock the front door, and she all but fell into her empty house, her heart thundering in her chest. It was nothing but the briefest of glances but it was enough for Quinn to know with unerring certainty and the conviction of a thousand suns that the woman was – frankly – the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
Quinn dropped her school bag on the floor of the living room. Made herself a sandwich. Spread out her schoolwork on the dining table to begin making a dent on her homework for the night.
But, as it stood, her mind could not rid itself of the image of that woman that Quinn found herself sketching her features in the back of her notebook. She drew in one smooth line the slope of her nose, the soft curves of her lips. Quinn, with her cheek propped on her fist, absently drew until her features took concrete shape on the page.
When she finished, Quinn smiled at the vision of the woman. It paled in comparison to her actual face, her actual beauty, but the closest she could approach it. She tore the page from the back of her notebook and pasted it in her sketchbook, whistling a tune as she did.
"I didn't know the Hendersons moved away," Rachel noted when the pink-haired girl whose eyes she met over the boxed hedges slammed the front door shut behind her. Her daddy glanced at the house and wheeled Rachel's luggage up the porch steps and into the cozy warmth of her childhood home. Things have changed, however minutely. They painted the foyer walls a paler shade of mint green, and the couch was new and navy blue. More photos, some from Rachel's stint in Broadway, some from her dads' fifth honeymoon in the south of France, lined the walls.
"They did a year back. They retired – went down to Florida to live with their son."
"You must meet the Fabrays. They're wonderful people – Judy divorced her husband a year ago and moved into the neighbourhood with Quinn, her daughter." Hiram said.
"They're having Thanksgiving with us," Leroy mentioned. "But we can cancel with them since you're home – "
"You don't have to do that," Rachel said, reaching for her dad's hand. "I'm sorry I sprung my stay on you two. Don't cancel plans on my account."
Hiram and Leroy glanced at each other. "We're happy to have you back in the nest, darling. Of course we are."
"I just wish you would tell us the reason. This is so unlike you, to be back with a one-way ticket. Usually you can't wait to get back to New York," Leroy teased. "What changed? You're not – you didn't get involved with the mafia, right? Because honey, this place will be the first place they look."
"Very funny, daddy," Rachel rolled her eyes with a smile. "I just need a change of pace, that's all."
"Okay, well," Hiram kissed the top of her head. "We'll let you get settled. Your old room is as untouched as the day you left, as always."
"Thanks," Rachel smiled and hugged her father around the midsection. "By the way, is the hot tub working? It's the one creature comfort I can't seem to find in the city."
"It's filled, yes, and it's ready to go. It's pretty cold at night though, are you sure?"
Rachel nodded. "I'll have a soak after dinner."
She climbed up the stairs to her bedroom with its familiar golden yellow walls. Pink and white polka dot sheets adorned the bed, her stuffed toys all lined up in a neat row. Her writing desk sat empty. The photographs from high school, from glee club, still hung framed upon the walls. Rachel sank on the foot of her bed, kicked off her shoes, and reclined, arms splayed on either side of her. The ceiling, with its smattering of golden star stickers, brought tears to her eyes.
Rachel reached for her phone to call Santana, who picked up on the third ring. "I made it. I'm back."
"How was the flight?"
"Tedious. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I just wanted to let you know I'm still living, so… Has he..."
"Not yet. I'll let you know as soon as he does."
"I'd rather not know, actually."
On the other line, Santana snorted. "I will gladly never talk about him ever again."
They ended the call and Rachel rose to change into a more comfortable attire. She noted the shift in her clothes' colour palette. What was once filled with vibrant pinks, reds, and yellows, her wardrobe now leaned into a monotonous greyscale. The influence of the city, no doubt. She changed into grey sweatpants and an off-shoulder black sweater. Before she decided to go downstairs however, she peeked through the gap in the curtains to the house of her new neighbours. Only one light illuminated the windows and it came from the kitchen. The driveway remained empty. Rachel wondered how lonely Quinn must be, to be the only one in the empty house. Even she, years ago when she was in high school, remembered spending nights alone while her dads worked late hours.
Teens these days probably have a million new things that could occupy their time, so maybe the pink-haired girl may not be lonely after all.
Rachel went downstairs and shared a light and delicious dinner with her dads whom she missed terribly. After helping her dad with the dishes, she went off to shower to wash away the grime of traveling before soaking in the hot tub.
With only a fluffy white robe and slippers on, Rachel stepped out into the cold night air. The backyard, with its neat box hedges, the flowerbeds protected with the burlap sacks, and the picnic table, had always been a source of comfort for when she was young. The grass was trimmed to the shortest length. The tub had been bubbling away for a few minutes now, and as steam rose upwards, Rachel shrugged off the bathrobe. For the briefest of moments, she was naked. Nothing shielded her skin from the elements. Her nipples puckered, goosebumps rose on her arms, her thighs, her belly. Rachel tied her hair in a loose ponytail before sinking down into the heat of the water.
After Quinn made her own dinner and downed it in a handful of minutes, she stepped out into the backyard to inspect her mom's flower beds. The asters and the black-eyed susans bloomed in the low light of the yard lamps. Quinn sank on the bench and breathed in the impending chill of winter that dried out the air.
She heard the sound of a door sliding in its tracks and she glanced to see the woman – the daughter of her neighbours. Quinn, confident that she was hidden sufficiently, noted the woman in her bathrobe. The steam from the hot tub faintly obscured her body, but it definitely did not obscure her tanned skin, the curves of her breasts, the down of hair between her legs, when she shrugged off the fluffy robe.
Quinn stared – really, what else could she do? She stared, eyes wide open, jaw slack, as she watched this woman bend over to drape her robe on a nearby garden chair. Quinn did not dare blink, could only admire the sight of her shapely ass bared before her. Well, not before her, but it might as well be.
She squirmed and gripped the growing bulge in her jeans. She could not redirect her gaze. It was an impossible ask. The woman raised her arms to tie her hair and it further exposed the curvatures of her breasts, her nipples stiff in the night air. Quinn found herself drooling, gripping her cock tighter.
When the woman disappeared under the bubbles of the tub, Quinn finally allowed herself to breathe. She crept back inside her house, sprinted up the stairs, and locked the door to her bedroom.
God, she felt feverish. Her vision blurred with images of that naked woman. And even though this woman was the daughter of someone she knew, for goodness' sake, Quinn undid her belt's buckle and gripped the thick stalk of her hard cock. Its pale shaft reddened at the tip that now leaked with clear precum. The image of her, naked and beautiful in the dim, dusky light, stirred Quinn's blood like nothing she ever experienced before.
Quinn tucked the hem of her shirt under her chin. The vein that curled on the top of her cock pumped blood into her meat so it was stiff, almost aching. Grasping it at the base, she hunched over the edge of her bed and stroked herself. Her head filled with images of the naked woman in the hot tub. Quinn imagined her stiff nipples in her mouth, suckling them while her soft thighs wrapped around her stiff dick. Quinn's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she jerked off. Wet, slippery sounds echoed in her ears from the way precum leaked out of her slit and slicked up her palms.
She teased the dripping eye of her cock with the tip of her finger and it sent shivers up her spine. Her legs felt unstable so she pressed her knees against the edge of the bed. Quinn fucked her fist with small, jerky movements of her hips. She squeezed her eyes shut. Pictured the woman, with her legs spread apart. How Quinn, given the chance – any chance at all – would hump against the folds of her pussy, her inner thighs, to feel the way her pussy would kiss the very head of her cock…
She whimpered. Bit back a loud moan that threatened to squeeze out of her at the mere thought of dipping the blunt head of her shaft into the woman's drooling wet heat. Quinn's entire body trembled. Her orgasm slammed into her. Like being tackled. Quinn wheezed as cum spurted out of her cock in thick ropes to land on the covers of her bed.
She squeezed her load out of her with a breathless whimper. She flicked her dick and with shaky hands put her cock back in her pants, though it still throbbed, remained hard. She liked masturbating just like any other teenager, always marvelled at the amount of semen her balls held – which was the main reason she did not do it as often as she would like. Clean up was a hassle.
Quinn rushed into the bathroom to clean up her bedspread with a damp cloth. Warmed now by her lust and desire, she sat by her desk and let out a breath. Wondered how, if she ever met this woman, she could possibly look her in the eye after what Quinn just did. Shame flooded her belly, but a part of her looked forward to meeting her. If only to make the fantasy more vivid, more lush with details.
Shaking her head to keep herself from getting hard again, Quinn took a quick shower before going to sleep. There was school tomorrow, after all.
"You look like shit," Finn remarked when he sat beside Quinn on the cafeteria table, his tray packed with two sandwiches, a large plate of fries, two cans of soda, and three cups of Jell-O. Quinn stole a crispy hot fry from his tray. "And you deserve to look like shit, you sneak thief. Also, you suck for not going to glee yesterday."
"I was busy," Quinn said with a glare. "I'll go tomorrow."
"You better – there's like, two rehearsals left before sectionals. Anyway," Finn took a big bite of his ham and cheese sandwich. "What were you so busy with?"
Quinn bit her lip. Refused to admit that she looked exhausted, barely got any sleep because she woke up at five in the morning with a sex dream and a raging hard-on. How the woman from that night was the same woman in her dreams who mounted Quinn and rode her like there was no tomorrow –
"Quinn? Hello? Is anyone in there?" Finn waved a hand in front of Quinn's face, and the pink-haired girl flinched and smacked him away.
"I didn't sleep well, alright?"
"That's not what I asked," Finn said.
"Oh – well – I had to do some yard work. I put it off for too long so I had to mow the grass before the snow comes."
Finn eyed her, clearly not trusting a word she said but was relieved when he did not ask further questions. They ate their lunch while they talked about gossip, particularly those relating to the members of the glee club. As they talked, Brittany walked by just as Finn was mid-sip of his Coke.
"Hi Finn," Brittany smiled. Finn sputtered and the drink dribbled out of his mouth to drench his shirt.
"H-hey, Britt," he stammered as she kept walking, though their eyes lingered on each other.
Quinn grinned and nudged Finn. "You should ask her out, you know. She seems interested."
"Shut up," Finn said, his ears red. "She's nice to everybody. And I'm perfectly cool with admiring her from afar."
Quinn scoffed. "Sure. Admiring. You're staring at her ass."
Finn immediately averted his gaze and cleared his throat. "I gotta go. I'm helping set up intramurals this year. Don't forget to come to glee tomorrow!" He bumped fists with Quinn and left, his tray in hand to dispose of his garbage. Quinn got up as well, cleared the table, and went off to the library to do some homework to free up her afternoon after school. It was, she felt, in anticipation of something, but she did not know, in any concrete way, for what.
On Rachel's first day back in Lima, she spent majority of her time indoors. Since her dads were retired now, they had all the time in the world to spend with her, and she found that, growing up lonely for the most part – it's not that she couldn't stand her parents, but she had gotten so accustomed to being alone that it felt weird that her parents were now so present at home. Then again, she was the one encroaching on their house, so she just relished the time they had together.
Her dads, around the late afternoon hour, excused themselves as they had a dinner party to grace with their presence. Rachel bade them goodbye, watched them pull out of the driveway just as the same girl from yesterday, the one with the pink hair appeared down the street. She looked tired, backpack likely heavy with books, homework burdening her. Rachel wondered if it would be too forward of her if she introduced herself, maybe invite her over for dinner.
She decided to think about it while soaking, yet again, in the hot tub.
Quinn could not believe her luck.
She got home, had her after school snack out on the backyard patio. She turned her head just to glance and there she was again. The woman, in her naked glory, out for another soak in the hot tub. Still with the same fluffy white robe to keep her company. The same shapely thighs, legs for days, an ass Quinn would likely dream about for the rest of her young life.
How often does a person need to soak in a hot tub anyway? Every day? This woman must really love it. As Quinn watched from her seat, the way this woman – whose name she still did not know and it haunts her that her cock stirred again despite this lack of knowledge – shrugged off her robe, how she climbed up the small steps, and lowered herself into the steam. Quinn pulled her zipper down and crept closer to the bushes to get a better view. All she could see was this woman's shoulders, her neck, her side profile. She need only to crane her neck a few degrees to the right, and her eyes would meet Quinn's. At least the shrubbery hid what Quinn's hand busied itself with from her explicit view.
Slowly, in her crouched position, Quinn stroked her cock from base to tip, her eyes never leaving the woman's body. She squeezed her shaft that pulsed, heavy and thick in her hand. Her tunnel vision for no one but this woman before her stirred her blood, made it reach a boiling point. Sweat formed on the side of her face. Quinn leaned forward, hoping to see more.
Her foot shifted. She stepped on branch. It snapped.
This woman looked up and met Quinn's gaze. A look of surprise registered, and then confusion, and then amusement.
"Hello?" She wrapped her arm around herself to cover her breasts. "Care to join me?"
"Um – err – I mean – "
"Don't be shy," she said with a smirk. "Just walk through the hedge, it's fine."
Quinn squirmed and attempted to stuff her cock back in her tight, ripped jeans. Her bulge would be impossible to hide and she was not sure if she wanted to risk being known – even if it meant being in this woman's presence.
She took a shaky breath. There was only one way to find out.
Quinn breached through the hedge and fell over on the Berry backyard lawn with a grunt. She shot up to her feet, the woman watching her with the sexiest smile on her lips. "Hi."
"Hello there," god, even her voice stirred Quinn's arousal for her more than ever. "I take it you're Quinn?"
"How'd you know my name?"
"My dads may have mentioned you. I'm Rachel."
Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. That was her name. Beautiful and fitting. "Nice to meet you." Quinn stammered.
"Nice to meet you too. Care to tell me what you were doing in the bushes?"
The tips of her ears felt swollen and flush with heat. "I was inspecting… the leaves."
"Is that so?"
"Y-yeah! It's important, you know, to figure out what nutrients the plant needs to keep growing especially now that winter is upon us…"
Rachel crossed the length of the hot tub and draped her arms over the rim. An inch or two of her hair was immersed in the water so it floated around her. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the heat. Her skin had a healthy glow to it.
"Then how come I caught you staring at me?"
"That must be your imagination."
"Really?" Rachel giggled and tilted her chin to look up at Quinn. "I find that hard to believe, but if you say so. Would you like to join me?" She rested back against the rim of the hot tub. "It feels nice in here. Hot water, cold air. The contrasting temperatures feels wonderful."
Quinn chewed her bottom lip, weighing the pros and cons. The pro was the opportunity to share a hot tub with a hot lady. The con was the risk of humiliation if Rachel figured out her lustful thoughts that surrounded her. "I don't have a bathing suit."
"You don't need one. I'm not wearing anything."
"H-huh," Quinn swallowed hard. "If you don't mind, then."
To Quinn's relief, Rachel gave her some semblance of privacy by turning the other way while Quinn removed her clothes. She kicked off her ripped jeans, tugged off her loose black shirt. Cupping her cock and balls that was still half-erect to hide it, she carefully climbed up the slick steps of the tub and sank into the bubbling water. She knew that what she was doing was risky, but she wanted to take the risk, as long as it meant being around Rachel. She blamed her hormones. Being horny made her stupid and she knew it.
"So," Rachel began, a small smile curling her plump mouth. "How was school?"
Quinn struggled not to snort but failed – drastically. "Good. Nothing special happened."
"Such a teenage response," Rachel giggled, shaking her head. "No extracurriculars today?"
Quinn pushed back her dampening pink hair so it would not frame her face. "Not today, no. Glee club meets Tuesdays and Thursdays."
At the mention of the club, Rachel perked up. Sat up straighter, giving Quinn an – accidental, she assumed – eyeful of her tits, the peach-pink of her nipples. "Oh? You're in glee club? What school do you go to?" When Quinn told her, Rachel gasped, eyes wide and mouth slack. "Really? I used to go there too! I was in glee club! We're the first group that made it to Nationals and won!" Rachel stirred the water with her flailing. "How's glee club doing?"
"Do you want my honest opinion?"
Rachel's brows furrowed in worry. "Yes."
"I think it's doing well – the students are still enthusiastic with it. But our club advisor, he's… going through something right now and it's kinda ruining the club for us. Or for me, anyway."
Rachel frowned. "That sounds awful. Sectionals is this Saturday, correct? Would you say you're prepared at all?"
"I mean, sure," Quinn laughed. "In the extent that we have songs and a dance routine that we've practised maybe five times?"
"That's not enough," Rachel said, smacking the water with the flat of her palm. It splashed, drenching Quinn's face, causing the pink-haired girl to gasp in surprise. She glared at Rachel – her expression anything but apologetic. Quinn cupped some water in her hand and flung it in Rachel's direction. She screeched and shielded herself.
Quinn laughed and grasped Rachel's wrists. "I could have drowned."
"From that small amount? I don't think so." Rachel squirmed and thrashed, her slick body grazing Quinn's. It lit the younger girl on fire but the proximity, Rachel's skin against her own felt delicious. Rachel looked up at Quinn – older she may be but she was a few inches shorter. "Quinn, how old are you?"
"Huh? Well – eighteen, but…"
"Good," Rachel said in a sigh of relief. "Just to be safe, I wanted to ask because I mean to do this." She cupped the side of Quinn's neck and swam close – so close that her tits pressed against Quinn's. She tilted her face upwards and met Quinn's lips in a soft, hesitant kiss.
Quinn, surprised she may be, was not too stunned. She kissed back, her hand resting on the small of Rachel's back, that dip of her spine. Rachel moaned softly and took her bottom lip into her mouth to suck on. Fingers threaded through the small blonde hairs on the nape of Quinn's neck. A shiver coursed through her.
Rachel drew back, a shy smile on her lips. "I haven't kissed a girl before," Quinn admitted.
"That's surprising. You were pretty good."
"I kissed guys before," Quinn said, her face a bright red. "Back when I thought I was straight."
Laughing, Rachel shifted closer to Quinn so that there was no inch of their bodies that were not in contact with one another. Quinn sucked in a harsh breath and stilled Rachel to keep her from coming any closer. Mostly because her cock was aching, raging in the water. Demanding attention. And with Rachel's thighs dangerously close to nestling between her legs, Quinn hesitated to have this beautiful woman any closer than she already had.
But before Quinn could say anything to explain her situation, Rachel found out about it. By having her thigh graze the underside of Quinn's full balls.
Quinn gasped and her entire body froze in shock. She looked at Rachel, feared the worst. Dreaded the next thing that would come out of the older woman's lips. Quinn imagined this moment far too often for so long, with nameless and faceless women. The accusation of betrayal, the disgust in the eyes, the forceful shove. Quinn braced herself against these onslaughts, girded her heart for the oncoming ache.
Only to find none of it directed her way.
Rachel remained unfazed and unbothered, her arms draped over Quinn's shoulders. She rested her hands on Rachel's hips and swallowed.
"I have a dick," she blurted out.
"Oh, don't think I haven't noticed," Rachel said, her lips against the shell of Quinn's ear. "A bit difficult not to, given its… heft."
Quinn flushed, smug and embarrassed at the same time. "And you're not – it's not weird for you?"
Rachel's hand disappeared in the bubbling water. Her fingers curled around the thickness of Quinn's cock casually, as if she was only shaking it as if it was Quinn's hand. She stroked it once, twice, and stopped when Quinn's jaw slackened, her eyes glazed over. "No, it's not weird for me."
"Oh," Quinn licked her lips in relief. Her heart raced with possibility. As the sun set behind the fence that blocked off Rachel's backyard, the porch lights, triggered by the low light, illuminated the tub. A soft beeping noise came from the tub's controls.
"We better get out. I've been here for almost an hour already."
Quinn sagged. "Oh."
"Don't sound too disappointed," Rachel teased. "How about dinner?"
"Your dads aren't home?"
"They have a dinner party. Unless your mom would mind?"
"She won't. She gets home pretty late."
"Then it's settled," Rachel beamed. "Here, you can have my robe. I have a towel."
Rachel stepped out of the tub and Quinn took that opportunity to catch a closer eyeful of the sleek curves of her body. She admired Rachel's thighs, the wet curls plastered against the mound of her pussy. Quinn's mouth dried at the sight of her calves, her small feet. Rachel wrapped a towel around herself. Quinn slipped into the robe and followed Rachel into her house.