A/N: I must apologize for the delay. I got sick last week, which threw me off, and when I recovered, I was inspired to finish my V-day smut for Justtripping a little early.

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I'm going where my body leads me
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When Quinn wakes up in the morning, it's all she can do to not panic, but she reminds herself forcefully that nothing actually happened and that Stephanie was a bit whacked on painkillers, and that maybe none of it meant anything anyway because…

She shifts a bit to get out of bed and Stephanie opens her eyes and smiles warmly. "Hey," she murmurs, her words slurring with sleep. She winces and brings a hand up to her jaw. "Thanks…for staying with me," she gets out, careful not to move her jaw much.

"No problem," Quinn says neutrally, "Let me get you your Tylenol."

Stephanie nods.

Quinn spends the next two days taking care of Stephanie.

It's mostly fine. They play video games and watch TV, and don't go far. On the second day, Lulu comes over in the evening to watch TV with them. She doesn't let Stephanie leave the building and instead goes to get soup and applesauce from the dining hall across campus for her.

And she tries to ignore what happened, tries to act normal. Tries to forget how her body trembled, how it felt to have Stephanie pressed against her in a way that felt so different from when Rachel did because Rachel's intention were always friendly and this was ambiguous and interesting and frightening. She's not sure how well it works because when Lulu comes over, Stephanie seems suddenly disgruntled and Lulu seems to sense something, and looks puzzled for most of her visit, and she makes an excuse to leave. But then, maybe Stephanie is feeling guilty for saying what she said about Lulu's boyfriend.

By the third day, Stephanie seems to be feeling much better. Her jaw isn't swollen, she wakes up without any need for Tylenol, and she decides to brave the dining hall with Quinn for breakfast, where she manages scrambled eggs, bacon and bread without issue.

When they get back, Quinn claims, "I need to head to the library for a bit. And now that I know you're not about to die, I think I feel okay leaving you alone for awhile."

Stephanie tries to smile, "Okay," she agrees, "But when you get back, I demand some game time."

Quinn smiles, "Sure."

She spends the whole day at the library. Or, multiple libraries, because the one she normally uses closes early because of break, so she heads to the medical library afterwards.

She mostly reads, but she spends some time on Facebook, and a bit of time being invisible on GChat talking with Santana and Rachel; Rachel is stressing about her new semester starting next week and the play that is going on at the end of the month, and Santana is fairly quiet. It takes her about five minutes to respond to any message of Quinn's.

She also catches Sean on GChat and asks if he's going to be back tomorrow; it's the day the dorms officially open. He says he isn't because he's been working all break and wants to earn as much as he can, and the last time he talked to Steve, he was also planning to be back on Sunday instead. Quinn feels a jolt in her stomach. She brushes it off by joking with Sean that Stephanie will throw a fit that they won't get any good gaming time in before classes start, but really, Quinn is slightly terrified by the fact that she still has four days with just Stephanie. She'll have to see what Lulu is up to. Tear her away from her boyfriend for awhile.

By the time the medical library closes at 10pm, Quinn knows she needs to head back. She's being irrational. Avoiding Stephanie all day isn't helpful and probably just makes her seem like she is freaking out. Which she isn't.

She takes a breath when she opens the door to her dorm, and it's dark. Not surprising, given that Stephanie has been falling asleep early ever since her surgery, and has been sleeping more than usual. Quinn slides in quietly, changes into pajamas for the sake of comfort, and takes her toiletry tote into the bathroom. May as well do as much disrupting of Stephanie's sleep as she can all at once.

When she comes back from brushing her teeth and washing her face, Stephanie's desk lamp is on.

Quinn freezes and looks toward her roommate's bed guiltily. Stephanie watches her, face expressionless. Quinn stows her tote away and says quietly, "Sorry I woke you."

Stephanie shrugs a little, then whispers, "It's okay. I was having a nightmare."

Quinn winces, feeling a rush of guilt for leaving her alone all day. "Oh," is all she can think of.

Stephanie looks up at her through her lashes, "If it wasn't too weird last time…I'd like if you could sleep here again. It did really help with the nightmares."

Quinn's breathing picks up and the little whisper in her brain asks again Are you really going to fall for that?

And she chooses to.

"Okay," she whispers tentatively. Stephanie scoots back again and Quinn slides under the covers. Stephanie moves closer.

It's obvious something is different. It's winter, and Stephanie has been wearing her warm pajamas, but right now she's in shorts and a tank top. Quinn feels skin where her shirt and shorts don't quite meet at her lower back as her hand slides around Stephanie's body with nowhere else to logically go. Soft skin.

"I remember what I said that first night, even though I took painkillers," Stephanie breathes quietly near Quinn's neck, "And I don't regret it. It's true. And I think you might have a girl crush on me, too."

Quinn's throat closes up, and she wants to say no, because she doesn't, really. Stephanie's her friend. Her attractive friend, but she doesn't have romantic feelings for her. "Um," is all that comes out though.

"It's okay," Stephanie murmurs, interrupting, "It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just fun. Two straight girls indulging our silly crushes," she chuckles softly.

Quinn thinks, now where have I heard that before?

And Stephanie's lips stroke her throat softly.

Half of Quinn shakes in protest, because it's not right, she doesn't feel the right way about this girl, but the other half semi-coherently deduces, She's offering, no strings attached, and wouldn't you like to kiss a girl, finally? You don't even have to come out! Take the opportunity!

Quinn feels herself trembling, her stomach twisting in anxious excitement, her pulse throbbing in her throat, and anything wrong with that argument is just gone and she takes the opportunity.

She dips her head to catch Stephanie's lips. Her pulse roars in her ears as she tastes feminine lips (no, wait, female lips, because Sam's were feminine) for the first time, and a shiver slides down her spine, somehow hot and cold, and she locks the muscles of her arms and legs to keep from shaking.

It's slow, tentative for a good ten seconds before Quinn has the courage to reach a shaking hand up to slide into the hair at the back of Stephanie's skull, and God, it's so thick and soft. Her hand wants to tighten, hard, but she resists the urge and focuses on their mouths, on the warm tongue pressing delicately against her lips. When she opens them and she tastes Stephanie's tongue for the first time, she expels a huff of air that is entirely a suppressed moan.

And she knows that, not thirty seconds into this kiss, that if she were in high school, she would be insisting they pray right now.

It feels like they kiss for an hour, and Quinn's not sure her body ever fully relaxes. She keeps it tight to repress the urge to press it fully against Stephanie, because as amazing as this kiss feels, she doesn't want to it go further. She doesn't want to out herself by enjoying it too much. So she focuses on their lips and tongues, and keeps their bodies as tame as possible. But God, even this repressed, tightly-wound kiss is liquefying her insides.

When Stephanie pulls back with swollen lips and heavy eyes, she half-moans, "God, you're a good kisser," and nuzzles Quinn's neck; Quinn allows the tension to break a little by laughing softly. "I just want to keep going, but I'm so exhausted," Stephanie groans against her neck, and Quinn's jaw trembles as she tips her head back involuntarily.

"It's okay," she croaks out, "You should get some sleep."

"Mmm," Stephanie agrees, "Thank you, Quinn."

"Yeah," she says quietly, "Night, Stephanie."

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I'm not human at all, I have no heart
.

Quinn has given in to her base desires.

Not completely. She's not having sex with Stephanie or anything, because God, her roommate's straight, and Quinn is trying to appear as such, and as long as they just do what Stephanie is comfortable with, it should be fine. Not to mention, she barely even knows how to have sex, and she's so not ready for that.

They barely leave the dorm room, even though Stephanie had just been complaining about being cooped up in there while recovering from her surgery (it's amazing how fast she's recovered, how hard she can kiss Quinn, how their chins can bump together without producing a hiss of pain). They don't…only make out, they try to play video games or watch TV, but sooner or later, they're back on Stephanie's bed, making out heatedly. And they sleep there. And they wake up there, pressed together almost awkwardly, and would probably start making out first thing if Quinn were not so adamantly opposed to morning breath.

A few thoughts are being continually pushed out of Quinn's mind.

Steve. Her friend. She's not as close to him as to Stephanie, or even Lulu and Sean. Hell, in some ways she knows Rob better. But every time she remembers that, hey, Stephanie is technically dating Steve, that's always somehow, conveniently when Stephanie will stroke her tongue languidly down Quinn's neck, and the thought leaves.

There's also the thought of, this really, really isn't what straight girls do. She wasn't even fooled for long by Brittany and Santana back in high school, and Stephanie's words about just indulging their girl crushes just sounds like something a deeply closeted Santana Lopez might have said, and she knows that if this is something more to Stephanie, Quinn is in absolutely no shape to help the other girl out of the closet, not when she's such a wreck herself. She's only managed to tell Zizes. What the hell is that?

So she just decides to take Stephanie's words at face value. This is just for fun. And God is it ever fun. Stephanie's kisses never fail to make her feel like she's going to fall apart, and she doesn't even return the crush, but it's amazing, to be kissing a girl. A girl who really, really knows how to kiss back.

And to touch. By the third day they've been making out, Stephanie breaks the ice and runs her hand lightly over Quinn's breast, over the shirt.

Quinn isn't able to suppress her gasp of pleasure, and Stephanie chuckles. "I've wanted to know what this would be like," she murmurs huskily, her palm flexing gently, fingers digging down to try to get a grasp on Quinn's small breast. She completes the action with a nip at Quinn's collar, which causes her to sort of simultaneously gasp and moan, a sound that humiliates Quinn a little bit, but Stephanie's warm hum of approval soothes her somewhat.

Quinn's hand moves slowly, from where it's pressing delicately against the soft flesh of Stephanie's lower back, and trails around to the front of Stephanie's shirt. She hesitates, fingers trembling, and then cups the breast she's been trying not to eye for months.

It's bigger than her hand, which is just, just astounding, and Stephanie almost purrs near her ear, clearly enjoying Quinn's touch. Quinn, for her part, just absolutely loses her ability to stay lying on her side—the only way they've made out so far, it seems safer somehow—and tips over onto her back. Almost immediately, the upper half of Stephanie's body is draped across hers, and they keep kissing, hands between their bodies, kneading soft flesh. She can feel Stephanie's legs writhing on the bed nearby, feel the brush of Stephanie's hip against hers as her body moves. Even Quinn can't resist relaxing her limbs somewhat.

Stephanie stops them several minutes later, flushed and wide-eyed, but grinning smugly. They try to go to sleep not long after, but pressed against her roommate in bed, Quinn's body hums distractingly, her thighs quiver, and she completely forces herself to ignore the way her panties stick to her. Stephanie, however, falls asleep quickly. So unfair.

Two days later, the day Steve and Sean are set to come back to Yale, everything changes.

Stephanie is on top of her again, but it's more…entirely on top of her. Quinn notes vaguely that this isn't something she's allowed much in her life. She's always relished the control of a situation, and her boyfriends had always been fairly easy to deal with in that respect.

The previous day and today, things had become much more physical. Quinn finally felt like some of her muscles were starting to unlock, and she touched Stephanie's breasts with a kind of reverence she's sure shows too much in her expression. She'd allowed little sounds of pleasure to escape her lips, and Stephanie had groaned with her own pleasure each time. Quinn had found Stephanie's nipple, after some slow searching; it had taken her an embarrassingly long time, because there were clothes in the way, and she hadn't wanted to seem eager to find it, had wanted it to seem like she'd found it accidentally, and Stephanie nipping her earlobe is distracting.

But Quinn wants to do this, and she rolls the nipple experimentally through the layers of Stephanie's shirt and bra. Stephanie moans, loudly this time, her hips pressing down insistently against Quinn's hip; Quinn can feel her soft stomach pressing against her own and she can hardly believe it, but God, the whole act makes her thighs quiver more.

They continue like this for several minutes, with fervent kisses and licks, as Quinn finds the other nipple and begins to pinch at it, too, and Stephanie's hips jerk more frantically. Quinn is kind of lost in this haze, her focus on the breasts in her hands and the mouth against hers, so when Stephanie groans, "God," and props herself up over Quinn with one hand, murmuring, "okay?" it doesn't dawn on Quinn right away where the hand disappearing between their hips is going. She merely moans her approval, believing Stephanie is asking her whether or not she is okay. And she doesn't quite track the hand in her mind until Stephanie is moaning loudly and shuddering, her hips a rhythmic spasm against Quinn's waist, and Quinn registers the feel of the hand between their bodies, the knuckles against her pelvis.

Stephanie collapses bonelessly on top of her and breathes out, a satisfied sigh, "Holy shit," she whispers, then sits up a little to smile down at Quinn, who can feel that her face is entirely aflame.

"What…just," Quinn croaks.

Stephanie just smiles lazily, like this is normal, "You just drove me so crazy," she whispers, leaning in to kiss Quinn gently. Quinn moves her face away after their lips barely touch, and Stephanie smiles, "You must be so wound up, do you want to finish yourself off, too?"

Quinn feels her stomach jolt and quiver in some horrible combination of anxiety, arousal and repulsion, "I-I've never, I don't…" she hisses.

Stephanie's head quirks and she eyes Quinn, her flushed face and neck. Her lips part for a moment, before she says, "Oh," and pulls back away from Quinn a bit, "Oh. I didn't know you…didn't…I can't be that for you, Quinn. I can't be your first orgasm. That's something you have to give yourself."

"What makes you think I want you to be that anyway?" Quinn snaps, and hurt flashes across Stephanie's face, and she sits up fully, away from Quinn. Quinn scrambles up to move away from her, her chest feeling panicky, and abruptly she remembers that one of the only other times she let someone on top of her was Puck, and if that doesn't put this situation in crystal clarity. Which then… "Oh my God." She glares at Stephanie, "What the hell are you going to tell Steve?"

"Is that what you're worried about?" Stephanie asks softly, "It's okay. I've been planning to break up with him since like New Year's, but he had a family thing, and I haven't seen him, and I need to do it in person." She waves a hand, "It's like I'm not even with him, at this point." Quinn squeezes her eyes shut, because, no, that's not what she's worried about, and she flinches when she feels Stephanie's hand cover hers, "Look, I like what we do. It's fun. We don't have to call it anything, but I'd like to keep doing it. But…you should really consider exploring yourself. I meant it. I can't do that for you."

"And I meant it," Quinn growls, "that I don't want you to." She gets off the bed and throw on her coat, "I'm going to the library for awhile," she grunts.

"Hey," Stephanie says softly, "I'm sorry if…"

Quinn closes her eyes and exhales. "Don't be," she murmurs, "It's not you." She hesitates, "I just…need some time." She leaves without looking back.

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Try and hit the spot, get to know it in the dark
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True to her word, Stephanie breaks up with Steve that night.

She tells Quinn the next day as they're getting dressed for class (after sleeping in separate beds, because Quinn had stayed at the library until she was sure Stephanie would be asleep). Stephanie hadn't seemed to mind this and seemed eager to reassure Quinn the next morning that everything was fine.

Quinn couldn't really escape her roommate, either, and so listened as Stephanie explained, "He was really pretty okay with it. Said he'd had some doubts about us lately, too, and didn't think he was what I needed in a partner," she smiles some, "And he's not mad at you."

Quinn whips her head around to stare at Stephanie, "What did you tell him?"

"It's okay, it's not like he'll tell anyone what we're doing, if that's what you're worried about. It's really not a big deal. This is college, Quinn. But he asked if there was someone else, and I told him, no, not unless he counts my girl crush on you. I told him you and I might make out for fun sometimes, and he basically said he couldn't blame me there, he'd had half a crush on you, too."

She inhales hard, then turns away, "Oh, that's just great. I'm thrilled that we're part of his spank bank now."

"It's really not like that," Stephanie pouts, "Look, I'm just trying to reassure you. We were enjoying ourselves, what's wrong with that? We're both hot, it's convenient, we don't have to get bogged down with feelings, and you're like a better kisser than any of my boyfriends. Steve is fine with it and he's not going to say anything or perv on us." She tries to meet Quinn's eye, "It's really okay, Quinn."

A strong part of Quinn wants to believe her, because, obviously, Stephanie had been a better kisser than any of her boyfriends, too, but an equally strong part of her knows she can't keep doing this. It had felt oddly safe when Stephanie was still with Steve, because there wasn't supposed to be the potential for things to escalate. But now…well, she's really starting to doubt that Stephanie doesn't want more than she can give her.

"It's really not," Quinn grates out, "Because I don't want to do this anymore. What we did was wrong, and unfair to Steve, and empty. I can't."

As Quinn leaves, she hears Stephanie mutter dejectedly, "You sure could for like the last week."

Stephanie's right about something, though. Everybody meets up for dinner that evening—Quinn, Stephanie, Steve, Sean, Lulu and even Rob. Steve and Stephanie casually inform the others that they're no longer dating, and they're disturbingly calm and casual around each other in a way that doesn't even feel forced. Quinn, in disbelief, texts Sean under the table to ask if Steve really is okay, and Sean replies that he seems as unflappable as ever.

Conversation actually flows pretty readily after that announcement, and no one seems to really notice that Quinn won't look at Stephanie, and won't talk to her unless Stephanie talks to her first. Quinn hopes it's because she seems like she's happy to see the others. At some point, they begin to compare schedules, on the off chance that they have ended up in the same classes; when they'd scheduled last semester, Quinn, at least, hadn't known anyone but Stephanie well enough to compare class choices. And since she and Lulu had been happy to discover they're both in the Feminism, Race, Sexuality and Gender freshmen seminar that had met that afternoon, she's wondering if there are any other surprises in store.

However, before anyone else can really respond to Quinn's query, Stephanie reacts to the news of Quinn and Lulu's shared class; she snorts and mutters, "Feminism."

Quinn faces her for the first time since the meal began and raises an eyebrow, "What?"

Stephanie just shakes her head, and her eyes are hard as they meet Quinn's. "I just don't see the point to feminism," she shrugs, a challenging quirk to her lip, "I mean, I love men, for one thing." Quinn's insides twist, hard.

"That's…really not what it's about," Lulu starts tentatively.

Stephanie rolls her eyes, "Oh, sure, I know, it's about equal pay and equal treatment or whatever. I don't know. Maybe I'd rather be paid what I'm actually worth rather than what the government thinks I'm worth. I'd rather earn my equal pay. And maybe I'd rather be treated like a woman."

Quinn isn't sure whether she's more shocked by Stephanie's words or by the fact that she's speechless. Stephanie doesn't break eye contact with her, and her steely gaze feels…accusative. Quinn eventually just retorts, "You're free to have your own opinion," and looks away. Sean is wearing an expression she's never seen before—what appears to be concern, directed at her—Rob looks uncomfortable, Steve's mouth is twisted awkwardly, and Lulu looks incensed, but she hasn't said anything else. She just stares at her plate, clearly seething.

For her part, Stephanie acts as though she didn't just slam a sledgehammer of awkwardness down on the table and turns to ask Rob about any new music that they got at the radio station. He picks up the topic gratefully. Quinn avoids Sean's concerned expression and looks at Lulu, who looks up from her plate to twist her mouth sympathetically at Quinn.

"I'm glad you'll be in the class with me," Quinn murmurs.

Lulu gives a tight smile, "Me, too."

Quinn manages to avoid Stephanie for much of the rest of the week, holing up in the library. When they're together, all of Stephanie's affection and hopefulness is gone, and they don't speak. Quinn tries so hard to blame Stephanie for everything, but she knows she made the choice to do these things with her and that she's the one that threw everything back in Stephanie's face. She's doesn't blame her for being hurt.

By Wednesday, she calls Rachel in the evening.

"Hello, Quinn!" is the chipper greeting she gets.

"Hey," she smiles. She hasn't really even texted her in almost a week, with all the drama going on; their conversation on GChat a few days ago has been about their only contact. "How's your first week going so far?"

"Oh," Rachel gushes, "It's really wonderful so far." And Quinn listens for several minutes, drinking in the descriptions of Rachel's classes—dance, and voice, and analysis of tragedies, and musical theory, and script writing. She also listens to news about play rehearsal, since there are only about two weeks left until that play goes on. Quinn's actually pretty excited to see this show. From what she's gathered, it's about a three-semester long project; first, the screenwriting class wrote the scripts, then a class was formed (consisting of many of the same students, but not all) of those who were interested in directing who were meant to cast, set and rehearse the various shows, and then this semester, the same group meets to actually put on each show and then critique, thus serving as a theater criticism class, as well as a directing class.

Until, finally, "How are you?"

Quinn hesitates. She'd called with the intention of asking whether she could visit for the weekend, but now that she's actually on the phone, it seems crazy. This whole mess isn't something she's ready to talk about, she doesn't think, and coming to New York when she'd just been there less than two weeks ago and when she'd be there the following weekend seems like a bit much. So Quinn just forces a smile into her voice and says, "So far, so good," and gives Rachel little updates on her classes. She answers questions about the school friends Rachel asks about, faltering only slightly when Stephanie's name is mentioned.

"Was there a specific reason you called?" Rachel asks tentatively after a few moments of silence.

"No," Quinn lies, cursing that Rachel guessed such a thing, "I just wanted to hear from you. Next weekend can't come soon enough." The last part is no lie, for multiple reasons now.

Rachel giggles quietly, her voice affectionate. "I'm so excited you'll be coming to see the play. I think you'll really like it, and I'm on stage more than in the musical! And ooh! Maybe you can help me decide which shows to try out for next?"

Quinn knows Rachel had held off trying out once she'd been cast in two productions (at least at school; she's shown up for several off-Broadway auditions, but nothing solid has come from that), but she fully intends to perform as much as possible this semester, as well. "I'd be happy to," Quinn promises, "I'd better let you get to rehearsal."

"Yeah," Rachel sighs reluctantly, "Thanks for calling."

"Sure," Quinn nods. She hangs up, and it turns into another one of those moments where Quinn is frustrated with their interactions, where she wishes they confided in each other naturally. She's still upset that she had to find out about Rachel's feelings on the full end of her relationship with Finn through Blaine, of all people.

Quinn trusts Rachel, as much as she trusts anyone (which, naturally, isn't all that much), but she can't let go of her trepidation and fear in order to be the one who confides in Rachel first, who opens back up that particular line of communication.

Even if it means their best friendship falls by the wayside.

So after she hangs up with Rachel, she texts Lulu.

Q: What are you up to this weekend?

Lulu: Oh, well, since Steph has been
kinda down since the breakup, I'm taking
her to my cousin's in Providence for the
weekend, hopefully help her get out of her
funk. I'd invite you, but, you know, she's
been snippy with you, too, lately.

Q: No, it wouldn't be a good idea for me
to hang with her right now. It's a good
idea to get her out of town. Thanks.

So. At the very least, she has the dorm to herself this weekend.

Maybe she can take the time to make some of Stephanie's words leave her head. The ones about…self-discovery.

Quinn spends Friday afternoon in the library, tucked away in a study carrel in the corner where she's pretty sure no one can see her computer screen, waiting for Stephanie to actually leave town. She's not entirely sure when she and Lulu are leaving, so she gives her dorm room plenty of time to vacate, and looks at…websites.

Not pornographic ones. Just the thought of that turns her stomach and she feels guilty. Like anybody her age with a computer, she's stumbled across those kinds of websites before, but any flash of excitement in her belly had been instantly replaced by revulsion and shame. Instead, she's looking at sites aimed at teens, about the female body.

It's so stupid. It's not as though she hasn't tried to masturbate before. There had been a particular period of her pregnancy where she could barely look at a person without feeling the overwhelming urge for them to touch her, to put something inside her. It didn't even matter who it was at that point. Times like that, she'd probed around, but nothing ever felt particularly amazing, and she'd either get bored or the urge would leave her body for the time being.

There's a picture open labeling the parts of the female anatomy. Quinn keeps minimizing it, looking over her shoulder to ensure she's alone, staring at Facebook for a few moments before getting the courage to open it again and look, then minimizing it, and really, it takes her about an hour to finish really examining the damn thing. It's almost as embarrassing to look at as it is to admit that she really doesn't know what a…vagina is supposed to look like anyway. It's about at this moment that it occurs to her that there are probably cameras all over the library and she flushes and immediately packs up her things to head back to her dorm.

Luckily, her dorm is empty when she gets back, and the haphazard way Stephanie's drawers hang open make it clear that she's packed up and left for the weekend.

She hates this. She hates feeling so uninformed and so prudish. But she's never been quite able to shake the idea that this is disgusting and wrong. She can't even remember specifically being told not to touch herself, she just didn't know for a long time that it is something girls could do, in spite of her completely contradictory thought she always knew it was something she didn't do.

So she follows all the website's stupid instructions. She burns with shame as she looks at herself with a compact mirror, trying not to recoil in horror at what she sees, because God, it's weird. She should laugh, because, she keeps it groomed; kind of a leftover habit from her Cheerios days, when waxing was one of the many perks and basically required. She may not wax anymore, but she uses a razor, and somehow, still had no idea what she even looked like until now.

Even knowing that her heart is attuned to wanting women, to loving women, the thought of touching this part of another woman is absolutely petrifying and, thus far, doesn't rouse any excitement in her. Only horror and anxiety.

When she touches herself—her clit, that mystery part she hadn't even known existed for almost all her life, that part that the website tells her is so sensitive and pleasurable…she doesn't feel much. She expects it feel like an electric shock, like a jolt of pleasure to touch herself there. She tries to touch and feel it in different ways.

Quinn explores her body for an hour, but, perhaps because it's so clinical and because it's a planned exercise, she never gets all that aroused, and she certainly doesn't orgasm. It takes almost all of her concentration to focus on where and how she touches herself that she doesn't even consider fantasy. She has to admit, though, that the way she's touching herself now, feels better than the way she'd tried before, when she 'd believed that just having anything inside her should make her feel amazing (though, what kind of amazing had never been very clear; it's embarrassing to admit she didn't know female orgasms existed until she was 17). She decides to stop and declares the mission a partial success. She'd managed to forget her feelings of guilt about halfway through the endeavor.

By the next day, when she tries again, it's…a little better. The way she's touching herself is less focused, more automatic, and she allows her mind to wander a bit. She tries to conjure up a pretty girl that she can imagine kissing, but her mind keeps flashing through girls she knows, and that just feels so wrong that she stops, and tries to just think about the physical reactions of her body. And though she tries for quite awhile, and it gets to the point where her body tenses, her muscles locking…she can't seem to get beyond that, and eventually just relaxes with a frustrated huff and gives up.

She spends the rest of the day angry with her body's lack of reaction and wondering if there's something wrong with her.

Additional A/N: Chapter titles from Father John Misty, "Nancy from Now On," Sleep Party People, "I'm Not Human At All," and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, "Zero."