Jennie's POV
Lisa's blazing eyes don't leave mine as I make my way to her. I prop my knee up on the bed and push myself onto it. At the same time, Lisa lifts herself up so her back is against the headboard and holds her hand out for mine. The second I place my small hand in her, she wraps her fingers around it and pulls me onto her. My knees go around her sides and I am straddling her lap. I've done this before with her, but never wearing so little clothing. I hold myself up using my knees so we aren't touching, but Lisa isn't having it. She positions her hands on my hips and gently pushes me down. Her T-shirt bunches at my sides, baring my thighs completely, and I am suddenly glad that I shaved my legs this morning. The second our bodies touch my stomach begins to stir. I know this happiness that I feel isn't going to last, and I feel like Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike and end my blissful night.
"Much better," she says and gives me a crooked smile.
I know she's drunk and that's why she is being so nice—well, nice for her—but right now I will take it. If this is truly my last time around her, then this is how I want to spend it. I keep telling myself that. I can behave however I want tonight with Lisa because when the daylight comes, I am going to tell her never to come near me again, and she will oblige. It's for the best, and I know that is what she will want when she isn't intoxicated. In my defense, I am just as intoxicated by Lisa as she is by the bottle of scotch she consumed. I keep telling myself that, too.
As Lisa continues to stare into my eyes, I begin to feel nervous. What should I do next? I have no idea where she wants to take this and I don't want to make a fool out of myself by trying to do something first.
She seems to notice my uncomfortable expression.
"What's wrong?" she asks, and brings a hand to my face. Her finger traces over my cheekbone and my eyes involuntarily close at her surprisingly gentle touch.
"Nothing . . . I just don't know what to do," I admit and look down.
"Do whatever you want to do, Jen. Don't overthink it."
I lean back a little to create about a foot of space between our torsos and bring my hand up to her chest. I look at her for permission and she nods. I press both hands against her chest softly and she closes her eyes. My fingers trace the birds on her chest and down to the dead tree on her stomach. Her eyelashes flutter as I trace the scripture on her ribs. Her expression is so calm, but her chest is moving up and down quicker than it was a few moments ago. I'm unable to control myself as I bring my hand down and run my index finger along the waistband of her boxers. Her eyes shoot open and she looks nervous.
Lisa, nervous?
"Can I . . . um . . . touch you?" I ask with the hope that she gets what I mean without me having to say it. I feel detached from myself. Who is this girl straddling this punk girl and asking to touch her . . . down there? I think back to what Lisa said earlier about me being my true self with her. Maybe she is right. I love the way I feel right now. I love the electricity shooting through my body when we're like this.
She nods. "Please."
So I lower my hand, keeping it on top of her boxers, and slowly I reach the slight bulge in the fabric. She sucks in a breath as I graze my hand over her. I don't know what to do, so I just keep touching it, running my fingers up and down. I am too nervous to look up at her, so I keep my eyes on her growing crotch.
"Do you want me to show you what to do?" she asks quietly, her voice shaky. The usual cocky demeanor has shifted into something mysterious.
I nod and she puts her hand over mine, bringing it down to touch her again. She opens my hand and makes my fingers cup around her length. When she sucks a breath between her lips, I look up at her through my lashes. She takes her hand off mine, giving me full control.
"Fuck, Jen, don't do that," she growls. Confused, I still my hand and am about to jerk it away when she speaks up. "No, no, not that. Keep doing that—I mean don't look at me that way."
"What way?"
"That innocent way—that look that makes me want to do so many dirty things to you."
I want to throw myself back onto the bed and let her do whatever she wants. I want to be her—to be freed for a moment from whatever it is that makes me so scared sometimes. I give her a small smile and begin to move my hand again. I want to take her boxers off, but I'm afraid to. A moan escapes her lips and I tighten my grip; I want to hear that sound again. I don't know if I should move my hand faster or not, so I keep my movements slow and tight, and she seems to like it. I lean in and press my lips against the clammy skin of her neck, causing her to moan again.
"Fuck, Jen, your hand feels so good wrapped around me." I give her a little tighter squeeze and she winces. "Not that hard, baby," she says in a voice that's soft and sounds like it could never be the same one that mocked me before.
"Sorry," I say and kiss her neck again. My tongue runs over the skin beneath her ear and her body jumps. Her hands go to my chest and she cups my breasts beneath her hands.
"Can I. Take. Off. Your . . . bra?"
Her voice is so uncontrolled and raspy; I'm amazed by the effect I am having on her. I nod and her eyes light up in excitement. Her hands are shaky as she reaches under the shirt and up my back, unclasping my bra as soon as her fingers touch the strap with a dexterity that makes me think for a minute about how many times she has done this before. I force the thoughts to the back of my mind, and Lisa slides the straps down my arms, making me let go of her. Tossing my bra off the bed, she returns her hands up under my shirt and grabs hold of my breasts again. Her fingers lightly pinch my nipples as she leans forward to kiss me. I moan into her mouth and reach down and grab her length again.
"Oh, Jennie, I'm going to come," she says, and I feel the wetness growing in my panties even though she is only touching my chest. I feel like I may come, too, from her moans and her gentle assault against my breasts alone. Her legs tense under me and her kiss becomes sloppier. Her hands drop down by her sides, and I feel a wetness spread through her boxers and pull my hand away. I have never made anyone else come before. My chest heats, filling with a strange new sense that I'm now one step closer to being a woman. Staring down at the wet spot on Lisa's boxers, I love the control I feel over her. I love that I could bring her body pleasure the way she does mine.
Lisa's head rolls back and she takes a few deep breaths while I sit on her thighs, unsure what to do. After a moment, her eyes open and she lifts her head back up to look at me. A lazy smile crosses her face and she leans forward to kiss me on my forehead.
"I have never come like that before," she says, and I am back to being embarrassed.
"It was that bad?" I ask and try to move off her legs. She stops me. "What? No, you were that good. It usually takes more than someone
just grabbing me through my boxers."
A pang of jealousy hits me. I don't want to think about all the other girls that have made Lisa feel this way. She takes in my silence and cups my cheek, brushing her thumb along my temple. I am comforted by the fact that the others had to do more than I did, but I still wish there weren't any others. I don't know why I bother to feel this way; Lisa and I are still unresolved. We are never going to date or be anything other than this, but right now, I just want to live in the moment, just the two of us. I laugh a little as the thought crosses my mind. I am not a "live in the moment" type of person at all.
"What are you thinking?" she asks, but I shake my head. I don't want to tell her about my jealous thoughts. It's not fair, and I don't want that conversation.
"Oh come on, Jennie, just tell me," she says, and I shake my head again. In a very un-Lisa move she grabs hold of my hips and begins to tickle me. I scream with laughter and fall off her and onto the soft bed. She continues to tickle me until I can't breathe. Her laughter booms through the room—and it's the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. I have never heard her laugh this way, and something tells me hardly anyone has. Despite her flaws, her many flaws, I consider myself lucky to see her in this moment.
"Okay . . . okay! I will tell you!" I screech and she stops.
"Good choice," she says. But looking down, she adds, "But hold that thought. I need to change my boxers."
I blush.