Shaw glanced up as the door opened. Root waltzed in, looking happier than Shaw had ever seen her. Her eyes were bright, her smug grin was stuck in place, and her cheeks were rosy. The only word Shaw could think of to describe her was glowing. Which sounded dumb. Even her already-perfect hair seemed shinier.

"Have fun?"

Root giggled and plopped down on the couch facing her. "Fuck yes."

Shaw's eyebrows rose. She'd never heard her drop the F-bomb before. Well, once, but she'd been repeating something Shaw had said, and being very mocking about it. Shaw put her book aside. "Must have been a good, uh, weekend?"

It wasn't, actually, since Root had been gone since Thursday night and it was now Sunday evening. But close enough.

Root laughed again, giddy and satisfied. "Mm, you could say that. Very good, actually."

Shaw couldn't deny the bolt of jealousy that struck her. She hadn't had a weekend that good in a very long time. Hell, she hadn't had anything worth a full weekend at all recently. She hadn't found anyone who made it through one night. Yeah, definitely jealous.

Root sighed, her eyes rolling back. "I needed that. It's been too long."

Certain parts of Shaw agreed vehemently. But all she said was, "How long?"

"Oh, I don't know. Two months? Yeah, at least. I hate going weeks on end with nothing."

"Weeks? What, like three of them?" Two months didn't seem all that long.

Root was casual when she said, "Well, I prefer not to go more than that all at once, but it happens."

Shaw just stared at her. "A couple weeks?"

"Yeah..."

"That seems like...a lot."

"It's not that way for you?"

"Uh, no. Not at all." She thought about it. "Really? Every couple weeks?"

Root laughed. "Yeah, really. I really like sex." She shrugged casually.

"Don't get me wrong, I do, too, but that's a lot of hooking up."

"Are you slut shaming me?" Root asked without an ounce of offense in her voice.

Shaw snorted. "No way. I'm just suddenly feeling like my sex drive is inadequate."

"Maybe mine is abnormally high?" She shrugged. "It's always been this way for me."

Shaw suddenly pictured a younger Root losing her virginity and awakening a monster. "Always?"

Root nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I had sex for the first time when I was nineteen," that was later than Shaw would've guessed, "and since then, I would say the longest I have gone without would be...maybe six months. That was just one time. And it sucked, by the way. My average is definitely more like two weeks."

Inadequate and jealous it was. Shaw nodded. "Fuck, I need to get out more."

Root laughed. She rose off the couch and went into the kitchen for a wine glass. "Might do you some good."

"Good sex always does. If one can get it."

"There is that caveat." Root brought a beer back with her, handing it to Shaw as she sat down. "Is that difficult on a college campus?"

"Easier than it used to be." Shaw took a drink before adding, "They've gotten better as they got older."

Root grinned at her. "So what's your average?"

Shaw contemplated it. Were they really going to talk about their sex lives? She'd never had a close female friend to talk to about this stuff before. Or any kind of friend. She sure as hell hadn't with John. But she didn't see the harm. And technically, she'd started it.

"I dunno, probably more like four months." Root winced. "Hey, don't judge!"

"I'm not judging, I swear. I just can't help thinking that I couldn't do it. Consistently going that long without an orgasm would kill me. Or at least drive me completely crazy."

"Cause you're not already there?" Shaw muttered into her beer.

"Okay, answer me this: Is it necessity that drives you to that? Or choice?"

"Uh, I dunno. Both, maybe? I mean, just because I don't have a one-night stand every weekend does not mean I'm not having orgasms."

Root could have taken that statement and gone a hundred different ways with it. But all she said was, "I should hope not. It doesn't matter how often I'm getting any, I'm still taking care of myself in the meantime." Shaw relaxed. "But what I mean is, do you not find it worth the hassle of getting a partner? Or is a worthy man too hard to come by?"

Shaw thought about that one before answering. "I'd still say both. I'm alright at picking partners that can at least make me come, one way or another. But people are just so...annoying!"

"It's like the interview process all over again." Root winked.

Shaw moaned dramatically, sinking further into the couch. Her toes brushed Root's leg. "Hell no! Never again!" she declared. Root laughed. "And if it was that bad every time I wanted sex, I might very well have to be the one to take care of me, all of the time."

"Why not find someone you're compatible with and just take booty calls?" Root asked the question completely without judgment.

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Because guys these days have so many...feelings! They want to cry, they want to be held... I just can't do it." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter how open I am about not wanting anything solid, no commitment. And they say they want to keep it casual, too. Until they don't. I don't know, man, like, maybe they do, in some ways. At first, anyway." Root nodded along, sipping her wine quietly. "Take the idea of monogamy, for instance; most guys can get behind ditching that, no problem! But what those same guys actually want is for me to be that way, because apparently, they can have as much pussy as they want, but if I have more than one dick inside of me in too short a time period, I'm betraying them. And I'm a slut." Root made a face. "Same damn way of going about things, but only they can get away with it. They must possess me, fuck everyone else, and I get no say."

"Sounds like bullshit," Root muttered.

"It is! So then I make sure they know that's not an option. Hook-ups only, no more. We're not dating, we're not monogamous, and I don't give a fuck about you or your life or your damn feelings. They all say the same damn thing, and I think it's fine, cause we're on the same page. But whatever they might claim, they never seem to stick to it. 'Casual' no longer means what it should. Why would I want a booty call that's going to say something about his grandmother dying when I come over? Or crack over a beer and bitch about his best friend? Fuck, I'd be turned off so fast my cooch would shrivel."

Root laughed so hard she almost spilled her wine.

"So no, no booty calls. It's safer just to get what I need and get out."

"Okay, fair enough. At least you have a sixth sense to help you pick good partners, I guess."

Shaw shook her head. "Exactly. And worst-case scenario, I know what I need to do to get off. If he sucks, I'll just take it and get out as soon as I'm done."

"And what do you need?"

Shaw observed Root closely. Her expression hadn't changed, but that question felt a little more flirty. For the first time, she hesitated to reveal so much about her sexual preferences. But Root just watched her patiently and waited. So finally Shaw said, "Depends."

"On what?"

Shaw smirked. "The size of his cock, mostly."

Root chuckled. "Okay, explain it to me. What positions and why?"

"If his cock is big enough," she held up her hands to demonstrate what qualified, "I like reverse cowgirl, because he'll hit my A-spot. Way better orgasms than the G-spot. He doesn't even have to be good. And that's why I'm always on top; I know I'll get to come."

Root couldn't seem to stop herself from snorting. "I'm sorry, that is such a typical heterosexual problem. He always has a good time, but you don't get the same."

Shaw frowned. "I do pretty well for myself."

"I have no doubt," she agreed. "But the statistic remains; more than sixty percent of women struggle to have orgasms with their partners. Only twenty-five percent even get an orgasm from vaginal intercourse."

"Are you sure? That seems high."

"Real stats, I swear. But see, that's specifically heterosexual relationships. The rate is much lower in lesbians."

Shaw knew her expression was pretty doubtful. "Why, because women don't lose brain cells to their cocks?"

Root snorted again, choking on her sip of wine. When she'd composed herself she said, "Possibly a contributing factor, I won't rule it out. But no. Because women tend to care more about satisfying their partners. Also, men tend to be so straightforward; stick it in, pump away, job done." She waved one hand aimlessly. "But a woman looks at you and thinks 'What can I do to make her scream?' Approach alone changes the whole game. And before you've even kissed, she is going to be analyzing you to find what makes you tick. She'll be thinking of just how to make you scream, long before she gets you naked. And then she'll use her fingers and her tongue and the entirety of her body to pleasure you. Technique is everything."

"Like there are no selfish lesbians," Shaw scoffed.

"Never said there weren't. They exist. But the numbers remain the same, regardless of the selfish ones. And the number of unsatisfied lesbians is just under forty percent. Still too damn high, if you ask me, but numbers don't lie."

"Fuck him if he can't make me come. I don't actually need a man to get off, it's just nice to get fucked hard once in awhile."

"No disagreement here. Now I want to know your preference if he isn't big enough."

"Still top, still in cowgirl. My G-spot is lower, easier to reach. And if I need to, I can get a little friction on my clit to get there."

"Makes sense," Root conceded, her expression giving no indication if talking about cocks bothered her. "But what if he's too small, or not the right shape to hit where you need it? What's the solution then?"

Shaw smirked again. "Oral. If he can't make me come with his mouth, I don't care what else he's got."

"I love that you take charge," Root declared. "Too many people don't express their needs properly, which is a part of the reason so many are unsatisfied."

"And how do you express your needs?" Shaw asked, her tone a challenge.

Root licked her lips. "I'm like you. I tend to just take what I want." Shaw liked the sound of that. Root smiled like she could tell. "But my favorite is sixty-nine. Because there's nothing better than coming while your face is buried inside a wet, soft pussy."

Shaw chuckled darkly. "Well, when you say it like that..."

Root grinned and leaned forward. "If you ever want me to demonstrate it, I'd be happy to."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not into women, dumbass."

"So you've told me. But who says you have to be? With the right woman, it wouldn't matter. If you had chemistry with her...sex is just sex, Sam."

Shaw raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so you'd have sex with a man?"

Root shrugged one shoulder. "Not my preference, obviously. But if I was horny enough, I'd consider it. I'd have to know him, though, already trust him." Shaw thought she was using that as an out, and apparently Root could tell, because she was quick to add, "Most men who want to have sex with a lesbian just think it's a hot, deviant thing to do. I have no idea why, but I'll never be horny enough to be the equivalent of a sex doll." Now Shaw was the one snorting. "I'm not an experiment, either. If he and I are doing anything, it's a mutually beneficial thing, not because I'm a lesbian. I don't even understand the appeal. That same man wouldn't have sex with a gay man because he was gay. Why a gay woman? And in contrast, no straight woman is enamored with the idea of having sex with a gay man because he's gay."

"The mystery of the male mind," Shaw said, with no small amount of sarcasm.

"This one of those moments that I am so glad I'm not straight," she teased.

"So have you? Ever had sex with a man?"

"Once. Couple years ago. I was curious, mostly."

"And?"

"It sucked. He was good-looking enough, but, well, he was male. I just couldn't bring myself to feel anything. On the one hand, it felt good to be touched, yeah, but he wasn't who I wanted to have touching me. I barely got wet at all. Maybe he just wasn't very good, but I have no desire to repeat the experience. It was too long and too short all at once, and I definitely did not come."

"Maybe you should have closed your eyes, pictured a pretty blonde with a strap-on, and just rubbed one out while he did his thing."

Root snickered at the imagery. But it was an opening if she ever saw one and she intended to walk through every one of those doorways. So she leaned forward and whispered, "I prefer brunettes, actually."

Shaw was unimpressed.

Root sat back like she didn't care and finished off her glass. "Another?"

Shaw sighed. "No, I work in the morning."

"Too bad." Root just poured herself a fresh glass and then waved goodnight before disappearing into her room.

Shaw watched her go in a haze. Had that conversation really just happened? That was surreal. She was a little worried that having opened up like that would backfire on her later. How much of that could Root use against her? She hadn't even managed to resist flirting for the whole of the conversation, not that Shaw expected her to. In fact, considering the subject matter, she'd actually done better than Shaw might have expected. Maybe it was the high of the weekend that kept her more aggressive side in check. Maybe that would even make the next few days easier. A well-fucked woman didn't need to flirt with her unavailable roommate. And a satisfied Root might even push fewer buttons.

Shaw could hope. Root had a way of riling her up, either with innuendoes or lack of boundaries or general craziness. Although, to her surprise, she couldn't say she had minded the conversation this time. Root was genuinely pretty easy to talk to, even when she was flirting, and it was nice that she shared Shaw's views on sex. Most people would've happily shamed both of them in that moment. One, for sleeping around with a variety of people. Two, for doing it so often, by either of their averages. And three, for conversing about it so freely. It really was quite amazing that in this day and age, sex was still such a forbidden topic. As if they weren't all doing it, anyway.

Root wasn't up in the morning when Shaw rose. She didn't expect her to be, even if she herself wasn't up as early as normal, having skipped her run. Plus, Root already liked to sleep in ordinarily, and now she'd had this long weekend she needed to sleep off. Shaw smirked as she poured her coffee. Yeah, she didn't expect to see her much over the next day or two.

She sat in the parking lot of the gun shop for all of two minutes before clocking in. She hated to be late, but she wasn't going to be that overworker who clocked in early, either. She kind of hated the job, too, but that was beside the point. Well, she hated the people. She liked working around guns. Something about all of the sleek weapons got her excited. Okay, also, she was a little horny, as Root had so easily pinpointed. Inadvertent though that observation may have been, it didn't change the fact that she needed sex, stat. Especially after seeing the glowing version of Root. She was still sick with jealousy today.

But no, she was at work for the next seven hours. With people. She hated people. That was the true problem with this job. Customer service was bad enough, but also, she apparently sucked at it. And most of the people buying guns were still the everyday idiots she otherwise tried to avoid. She had no idea who allowed them to own a gun, but she was pretty sure it was a bad idea. Even if the laws in Chicago for owning a personal handgun were strict, she didn't think they were strict enough. And sometimes, it was all she could do to keep from telling the potential customer that. The only reason the manager kept her was because she was a good worker. That and Tomas kept vouching for her.

Maybe he was a good part of the job, too. The assistant manager just so happened to be a Spanish hottie with a pretty smile and a tight ass. The eye candy made the job a little bit more enjoyable. And the way he smiled at her suggested she wasn't the only one who liked the view.

But she hadn't said anything to him yet. She was supposed to work here until school started again, and that was still five weeks away. Five weeks was a long time to work with someone you'd hooked up with. Especially when she didn't do seconds. But even if she did, five weeks would still be too long. She'd have to see him anywhere from three to five days a week, as well as play nice enough to not lose her job. She couldn't afford to go job hunting right now. She needed her pussy to shut up and stay shut inside. For a little while longer.

In the meantime, she just flirted. Root was right, it was fun. The anticipation was biting at her; she hoped it didn't grow stale before she got a chance to try him on for size.

She was on her lunch break when Tomas found her. "Shaw," he greeted, smiling cheekily.

"Tomas." She smiled back briefly as she kept eating.

Tomas lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall next to her. She hated the smell, but tried to overlook it. It wasn't like she wanted to date him, though it would be nice if he didn't do it right next to her. But if he wanted lung cancer, that was his problem. She just tried not to breathe in too often.

"How was your weekend?"

Shaw tried not to roll her eyes at the mundane question. Really? How was your weekend? That was his opening? At least when Root walked in the door, it was with a witty joke on her lips or a flirty comment or something so ridiculous that Shaw just didn't know what to say.

With Tomas, the not knowing what to say came from her inability to make small talk. "Um, fine," she said finally.

"Did you do anything?"

"Like, did I lie in bed all weekend?" Why were the stupid questions necessary?

Tomas laughed like she'd made a joke. "Well, there are perks to that, too." He winked. "But I mean, did you do anything fun?"

"No. In or out of bed."

He laughed again. "Sounds lonely."

She almost snapped back that she didn't do lonely. But normal people didn't say that. "Yeah. Well. It was...relaxing."

Actually, it was one of the only weekends she'd spent in all summer. Root loved all the campus parties going on and pushed Shaw to come with her. Shaw grumbled about it, but usually went with regardless. It was kind of nice, having someone to go out with. And it was still fun to dance together, both in drawing appreciative eyes and keeping unwanted hands away. They danced and drank all night before stumbling home sometime before dawn. That is, if one of them didn't go home with someone else.

That one was usually Root. Shaw had been striking out a lot lately. Either the party was full of losers, the promising ones were taken, or the guy she chose proved to be mediocre. Or some combination of these. She hadn't hooked up in awhile because of it. She got better orgasms giving them to herself. But she envied Root, who drew attention everywhere she went. And she never seemed to turn up the next morning, or evening, disappointed.

At least she wasn't bringing them all home. That would've really rubbed it in Shaw's face. Only once had Shaw caught another woman in the house. Root had been ushering her out, only to find Shaw on the couch, munching on a bagel after her run.

Root had made a face at her in apology and kept nudging her friend toward the door. Shaw had looked her over in curiosity. She'd seen Root flirt with a few different women, but never who she went home with. This was a first. The woman was shorter than Root, as most were, dressed in tight jeans and a white corset top. She had light brown hair with blonde streaks, loose around her face. She'd stopped at the door, her back to it, saying something quietly to Root.

Shaw had pretended to eat her bagel, looking at her phone and being disinterested. But she didn't miss the coy look the woman gave Root. And that subtle tilt of the head. She knew an invitation when she saw one. Root did, too, and she took it. She had leaned down to kiss her, a smile on her face. Shaw hated seeing people make out and quickly glanced away. But a second later, her eyes were drawn back to the couple. Root was kissing her hard, her tongue clearly in her mouth, and both hands in her back pockets, squeezing her ass. Shaw's throat had gotten tight. Root kissed with her whole fucking body, pressing her into the door as she devoured her. Shaw couldn't look away. Did Root just do everything in life with this level of intensity?

Eventually, the kissing stopped, just as Shaw began to wonder if they might end up back in the bedroom. Not that she would put it past Root to fool around right in front of her. Shaw would be more surprised if she didn't have a voyeuristic streak in her somewhere.

When she was gone, Root had dropped onto the couch in front of her, her swollen lips turned up in a grin. Before she even spoke, Shaw was saying, "Don't. No perky shit. Not all of us got some last night."

Root had chuckled in response. "I promise, I'll keep it toned down. I was going to say sorry. About bringing her back here. She lives in the dorms, so our options were limited."

"And you just couldn't resist," Shaw mumbled.

"Well, I guess I could have taken her against a tree?" Root teased. "But the bed is more comfortable." She laughed. "She has a roommate." She gestured to Shaw's door. "And no doors between their beds to close."

"One reason I never did dorms," Shaw snarked.

Root had sighed. "Can't even imagine. Girl needs a little privacy. Especially for having friends over."

"Some people don't even give a shit. You get it when you can." Root had laughed at that. "Normally, I'd encourage it, you know? Get it on, bitch...just not in front of me." Root's laughter didn't stop even as she kept ranting, eventually drawing a chuckle from Shaw, too.

"Shaw?"

She glanced up at Tomas, watching her with a furrowed brow. "What?"

"I think you spaced out. I asked you if have any roommates, but you didn't answer."

"Oh."

He paused. "Well? Do you share with anyone? I know house prices are crazy around here."

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh? A friend? Boyfriend?"

That was a pretty big opening. But Shaw just said, "She's a friend," and got to her feet. "Sorry, lunch break over."

Business always picked up after lunch, which sucked, but kept her busy until she could clock out. She was in the middle of explaining to some pimple-faced kid the publicly accessible laws and required permits on owning a handgun in Chicago, that anyone could – and should - look up before trying to purchase a weapon, when she caught sight of Root talking to Tomas. She trailed off mid-rant, swearing.

"What?" The kid looked over, too.

"Nothing." She swore again to herself. "Uh, look, you can't. Sorry. Go now."

"But-"

"Enough, little man. Stop wasting my time and read up on the requirements for yourself. It's called the Internet." She walked away from him just as Tomas passed her.

"She said she's waiting for you," he told her over his shoulder.

"Fuck," Shaw hissed under her breath.

She stomped over to where Root leaned on the glass, cool and confident and not at all out of place, unlike the dweeb currently running away with his tail between his legs. She planted her hands on the glass case in front of Root and just glared.

Root finally spoke, with a glance toward the door. "I think you might have scared him."

"I hope so. I'm just trying to figure out how to do the same to you."

She smirked. "Let me know if you find something you want to try on me."

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Talking?"

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "What. Are. You. Doing. At my work?"

"Can't two roomies take a quick break to catch up?"

"No."

Root laughed. "Ouch. I was just-"

"Save it." Shaw held up one hand. "I don't have time for girl talk. This is my work, Root. You can't just come in here and ask me to take a break."

Root was unbothered by her frustration, as always. She leaned forward, sneaking a peek at Tomas behind the curtain where they stored extra ammo, cleaning supplies, and the safe. "Who's he?"

"A coworker."

"He's a hottie." Root gave her a look. "I mean, not my kind of hot, but still. I kind of get it."

"We work together, in case you missed that part."

"So?" She tilted her head. "You're telling me haven't entertained the idea at least a little?" Shaw didn't answer. "Well, he has. He keeps stealing glances at your ass, not that I can blame him."

Shaw felt her cheeks flush, an unusual tell for her. She scratched at the back of her neck.

"You should go for it. You've been kind of frustrated lately."

"Why are you here?" she snapped.

Root's eyes twinkled. "I got a job I have to travel out of town for."

"So?"

"So, it's my turn to buy groceries. But I leave tonight. I won't see you when you get home."

"That's what notes are for, Root."

"Yes, but then I wouldn't get to see you." She grinned. "So I left money on the table, did all the dishes for you, and fed the dog."

Shaw rolled her eyes. She made a dig, a joke, or tried to give some sort of incentive on getting a dog almost daily. She'd been very insistent. Shaw was actually kind of surprised she hadn't yet gone to the pound one day to just pick one out.

"Great, thanks. See you when you get back."

Root pouted at not getting the response she wanted. "Won't you miss me?" Shaw only glared. "Okay, fine. But I wanted to take you out again this weekend; I'm bummed I have to be gone."

"It's only Monday. Will you be gone that long?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Possibly. Sometimes these things take upwards of a week."

Shaw wasn't sure what 'these things' meant. Because so far, when Root took a job out of town, she was almost always back after three days.

"Whatever. I can go without you."

The pout reappeared, having gotten deeper and more pronounced.

Shaw leaned down on her elbows, putting her face close to Root's. "Dude. Time for you to go."

"Do you really want me to leave?"

"I need my job!" she hissed. "And standing around talking isn't doing it! You need to at least make a purchase to make this not look like a social call."

Root glanced down, interest on her face. "Would love to, but I'm full up right now." Shaw snorted. "Besides, the only other person here is – what's his name?"

"Tomas," Shaw growled.

"Right, that was it! Yes, and Tomas is too busy checking you out to care who you're talking to or if a purchase is made. So I think we're good."

"Root, I swear to god, if you don't get your ass out of this store right the fuck now, I will have changed the locks by the time you get back."

Root leaned closer, her lips pointed up toward her teasing eyes. "You should know I am an excellent lock picker."

"And I have a signed contract that says I can legally kick you out and then get you arrested for trespassing, wench."

She laughed. "Always playing hard to get, Sam." She straightened up and nodded toward the back. "Don't string him along too hard, yeah?" She winked on her way out of the store, leaving Shaw just shaking her head.

Tomas approached her after Root was gone, done pretending to have other things to do. "So...she was interesting."

"She is something," Shaw muttered.

"She always like that?"

"Like what?" Shaw snapped. "Annoying?"

"Not what I was going for, but okay. You know her?"

Shaw sighed. "She's the roommate."

Tomas straightened suddenly from where he was braced against the case. "Oh."

"What? Oh, what?"

"Roommate, huh?" He glanced toward the door, as if expecting her to still be there. "Are you two...?"

"Are we what?" she growled, sick of everyone beating around the bush.

"Uh, she kind of looked at you like..."

Shaw caught on, flinching in surprise. "No! We're- She's crazy. And I like men."

"Right, good. I mean, uh...sorry. She just, you know, kind of seemed to be in to you."

Shaw shook her head and walked away, muttering, "Everyone wants a piece of this."

"Sorry, what?"

Her face flushed for the second damnable time. "Nothing!"