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Chloe’s dorm room should be studied. Louise can picture it now: researchers in lab coats, huddled over the sterile environment with clipboards. She’s probably the most pristine college student in the history of time.
“Hey, Chloe.” Louise says, purposefully tossing her backpack in the middle of the carpeted floor.
A loose paper slips from the unzipped pouch, the first blot on otherwise perfect cleanliness. Chloe scowls, and Louise flashes a fake-friendly smile.
“Are you starting in with that shit already?” Chloe asks.
She’s sitting at a vanity, twisted away from the mirror to face Louise instead. Nineteen has been transformative, changing her face from that of a child to that of a woman. Louise chooses to avoid her own reflection, sure she looks kiddish and plain in comparison.
“Woah, language! That’s no way to treat your guest.”
“I guess it was wishful thinking to hope you’d grown up since May.” Chloe crosses her arms.
Her hair is plaited in an impeccable braid, and the small gold hoops in her ears suggest maturity. Professionalism. Louise feels out of place in a faded band shirt, wondering if she’d somehow missed an email about the dress code.
“Oh, you mean May, when you swore it was the last time I’d ever touch you?”
The question kindles something, and Chloe’s abstract scowl is suddenly a motivated glare. All of her anger is fixed on Louise, who laughs humorlessly.
“I believe your exact words were ‘enjoy this while it lasts, Louise’.”
She approaches, flinging her jacket to the ground and closing the gap between she and Chloe. The article seems to freeze in time, floating at an impossibly slow pace before landing in a heap on the carpet.
Chloe was wrong. Since graduating high school, Louise has grown up. She’s learned to savor things. Things like revenge, which she used to celebrate too soon. She lingers now, making sure her smirk has set into Chloe’s bones before she lifts a hand, pushing her chest and rolling the chair she’s in slightly backwards.
“Well, I promise, Chloe.” She says, using a thumb and index finger to point the other girl’s chin up.
“I’m enjoying every minute of you crawling back to me.”
For a flash of time, Chloe is hers completely—eyes timid, like a farm animal heading for slaughter. When the moment disperses, she wrenches her head from Louise’s grip.
“You should be thanking me.” She says. “Do you know how many hot girls you meet at college? It’s not like I need some sleazy high school hook up.”
This description actually stings. Louise won’t kid herself into thinking that they’re exes, but Chloe’s label lacks necessary substance. They were enemies, for one, and the intimacy of that is much greater than a casual hook up.
“So why’d you call me, then?” She asks skeptically. “Missed having someone stand up to you for once?”
She focuses her stare on Chloe’s purple cardigan. It looks recently ironed, which feels show off-y, but her main gripe is the way it’s disguising Chloe’s figure. Her tits, which Louise knows to be striking, are muted beneath the sweater’s soft outline. She shrugs, and the movement jostles them slightly.
“Because,” she says condescendingly, “sometimes I want it quick and dirty. You’re the only girl I’ve been with who hasn’t fallen in love with me.”
She rolls her eyes, inconvenienced by the outpouring of devotion. Louise nods. She accepts her role as soulless, unaffected fling, and she won’t confess that there are moments where she truly gets it. Chloe occasionally snorts when she laughs, and that alone is the sort of charming quirk that makes falling seem easy.
“Well, I promise you there’s no danger of that.” Louise says. “But, uh, what’s this about your personal brothel? Where do I apply for one of those?”
Guys are cool and all, but they rarely offer any challenge. Being conventionally attractive means that men turn weak and malleable around her—this is great for manipulation purposes, but it makes for a painfully dull romantic experience. Boys have tried giving her flowers. Roses, even. Chloe would never dream of doing something so nice.
“It’s called being young and hot, Louise.” She explains, flipping her hair. “You wouldn’t believe how many sorority girls are into experimenting.”
She says this flippantly, no significance infused at all, but the information nestles into Louise’s brain and is liable to stay there. When she gets home, she’ll certainly dream of Chloe being enticed into some straight girl’s lap.
“Wow.” She says with a whistle. “They must be too pumped with Botox to realize what a huge mistake they’re making. Sad.”
As Chloe begins undoing the buttons on her cardigan, Louise knows it’s only a matter of time before her coherence is gone. A white camisole comes into view, and delirious excitement blurs her ego.
“You never seemed to think you were making a mistake, Louise.” Chloe smiles. “Every time I take my shirt off, you act like it’s Christmas morning.”
Illustrating the point, she pulls the tank top up and over her head. Louise’s breathing stops. In their months apart, Chloe has not grown tentacles. She also hasn’t contracted leprosy, or sprouted a tail, or become hideous in any way at all.
“Oh, fuck you.” Louise complains. “Did the freshman fifteen go straight to your boobs?”
Chloe basks in the praise.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you stop staring and come see for yourself?”
Disoriented, Louise has to remind herself that this is real life. She isn’t watching porn, or huddled under her covers and scrolling through Chloe’s Instagram feed. Not that she’s ever done that or downloaded the app specifically for that purpose.
She charges forward. With what looks like unadulterated confidence, she straddles Chloe’s lap. The desk chair squeaks under their combined weight.
“Tell me how many times you’ve thought about this.” Chloe urges.
When Louise dodges the question by kissing her, she pulls away.
“No kissing until you tell me. Every day?”
Louise rolls her eyes. She truly isn’t as infatuated as Chloe seems to think. Most of her energy is expended on important things: pranks, money, and she and her dad’s action movie marathons.
“Maybe once or twice.” She says, making Chloe grin.
If sex does come up, it’s only in the depths of the night. Buried under covers, listening to the hum of her box fan, Chloe does occasionally cross her mind. She sometimes chops her into pieces, using the best parts and pasting them with those from other girls. It’s a sick, slightly macabre fast track to getting off.
“I guess I think about your tits.” She admits, unhooking Chloe’s bra.
When it falls away, her nipples are already hard. She doesn’t protest, as kisses track the length of her collarbone.
“And your annoying voice.” Louise adds in a whisper. “How you whine, when I touch you.”
She takes pleasure in the goosebumps that bloom on Chloe’s breasts—the physical proof that she’s coming to pieces.
“Yeah? I think of your hands, Louise.” She says. “And the way they can’t get enough of me.”
She grabs Louise by the neck, nearly choking her, and pulls in for a kiss. They both sigh, relieved, as their lips meet. It isn’t until they’re already kissing that Louise realizes how desperately she missed this.
If Chloe’s body language is any indication, then she’s equally as famished. All of Louise’s knowledge about good kissing disappears. Her choices, hurried and messy, are all made with the intention of dominance. She bites at Chloe’s bottom lip, unbuttoning her jeans with one hand.
“Wait.” Chloe instructs, even as the pants slide from her legs and land on the floor.
Before remembering her dignity, Louise pulls away and awaits the next command. Like an obedient, pussy-starved moron.
“What?” She demands, when the answer takes too long.
“I don’t want your hand.” Chloe explains. “I have something better. Get up.”
They both rise from the chair, and Louise’s eyes follow her ass in a white thong. She clenches and unclenches a fist.
“Where the hell are you going?” She asks, as Chloe kneels at the foot of her bed.
She lifts the bed skirt, sticking her head underneath, and Louise’s teeth grit together. As her body contorts to search under the bed, Chloe’s ass looks inhumanly good.
“Can you be patient for, like, two seconds?” She asks.
No. No, I really can’t . Louise thinks. You make my body feel like it’s on fire, and you aren’t even doing anything.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. It’s not like I have a life outside of your shitty dorm room or anything.”
When Chloe finally reappears, it’s with a pink box in her hands. The cutesy floral print alone is enough to prompt an eye roll from Louise, who assumes that anything kept in such a package must be equally as boring.
“If you’re going to show me your nail polish collection, I think I’m gonna go.” She mocks.
Chloe ignores the comment, tucking both feet beneath her body and getting comfortable as she opens the box. Curious now, Louise inches forward. The sight makes her stomach drop.
At nineteen, Chloe is her former self on speed. She’s doubly arrogant and even more polished. She also, evidently, now owns enormous dildos that she stores away in floral print boxes.
“Oh, hell no.” Louise says on instinct, backing away as though the toy is a viper preparing to strike.
The thing is larger than she ever would have dreamed, and each glittery inch of it looks ready to tear someone’s insides to pieces. Louise shakes her head.
“What?” Chloe asks. “It’s fun. Are you mad that it’s pink?”
Honestly, it isn’t helping. To be afraid of anything is unacceptable to Louise, but fear of something pink and glittery is unsettling in an entirely new way. Even the harness it sits in is a matching shade.
“Louise? Hello?” Chloe continues, when she stays silent. “What’s your problem? I use it all the time.”
If Louise was intimidated before, now she’s on the verge of coming unglued. In the span of only four months, Chloe has blossomed larger, sexier, worldlier wings. She flounces back on her bed, awaiting service.
“Of course you picked the girliest one.” Louise says, redirecting her mounting trepidation.
Chloe rolls her eyes, the mattress bouncing slightly as she huffs. As she leans on her elbows, she looks like she should model for these crazy toys. No, she’s too classy for that. If anything, she’d pose for an underwear magazine—white panties with little, lace bows.
“What did you want, one with flames on it or something?” She snaps. “Don’t be stupid. Just put it in me.”
Louise has never been religious, but she thanks every deity she can think of that this is Chloe’s plan. At the thought of the toy going anywhere near her, she wants to slam her legs permanently shut.
“What do you need that thing for?” She demands. “Are you not good enough in bed on your own? You need extra help?”
This is the only rebuttal she can think of without confessing her fear. But hiding it is fruitless anyway, because Chloe’s eyes soon go wide in realization.
“…wait.” She says, seeing Louise’s discomfort. “You’ve never used one before? Seriously?”
Her tone is free of derision, filled instead with sincere confusion. This is so much worse.
“No.” Louise scoffs. “And? What’s the big deal?”
Chloe shrugs.
“It’s just unexpected, that’s all. You’re like a lesbian’s wet dream.”
Hearing this should feel good, but it just makes the situation that much more embarrassing. How is she so out of her element, when this is supposed to come naturally?
“Do you want me to put it away?” Chloe asks. “You look like you’re gonna freak out. I don’t want you puking all over my bed or something.”
She’s disguising it with an attitude, keeping their pride in tact, but she’s really offering Louise a viable out. The option gives her the strength to shake her head.
“I’m not.” She promises. “I’ll, uh. I’ll try it, at least. It can’t be too bad.”
Chloe’s smile looks almost genuine.
“Here.” She says, holding out the harness. “Just step in, and I’ll hook it up.”
Louise looks at her closely, wanting full disclosure of all judgment before she commits to this. If, months down the line, she hears Chloe is making fun of her with every girl in Sigma Kappa Whatever, she’ll probably have to resort to violence.
“I really think you’ll like it.” She says earnestly. “It’s supposed to feel powerful. Won’t it be fun to pretend you’re the boss?”
In terms of building Louise’s confidence, this is the best thing she could’ve said. Dismantling Chloe, humiliating her completely, is a huge turn on. Though she doesn’t feel any less like an idiot, she climbs through the pink harness and lets Chloe fasten it to her waist. To distract from the awkwardness, she lines her neck with kisses while she works.
When the toy is firmly in place, Louise is taken aback by the immediate rush of power to her head. Chloe lies back, head on the pillow, and Louise hovers over her. That powerful feeling disappears, replaced by sheepish confusion.
She closes her eyes, searching for a memory. Over the summer, a twenty-year old with tattoos started running the Wharf’s corn dog stand. He was fresh out of juvie, his already lengthy record hanging from his shoulders like a shadow. Louise found him irresistibly cool.
He’d taken her to his apartment once. To give Chloe the best experience possible, she siphons from the recollection. Cigarette smoke. Her hands clutching dirty blonde hair. She tries to align her hips like he had, angling the toy over Chloe’s entrance.
“There’s lube in the nightstand.” She says. “Purple bottle.”
As she opens a drawer and pulls out the lubricant, Louise makes a mental note of the latest difference between this and she and Chloe’s previous endeavors. When using her hand alone, extra lube was never necessary. She squeezes some into her palm, slathering the toy until it’s suitably wet.
“Does this seriously feel good?” She asks, partially to stall.
Chloe starts touching herself, wrist lackadaisical as she stares up at Louise.
“Really good.” She says impatiently. “It hurt at first, but you get used to it.”
Louise nods. The real thing, too, was sort of painful before she adjusted. Something about this comically large toy seems all the more threatening.
“It’s huge.” She remarks. “You know it’s huge, right? You still want me to do this?”
Chloe raises an eyebrow.
“Not if you’re scared.” She says. “Your hand is great. Just…come on, make up your mind before I get myself off. This is torture.”
From her position, Louise can understand why she might appear overly cautious. She mentally kicks herself. This should feel good. She should want to wield this kind of power.
“Of course I want to.” She says hurriedly. “I was just…checking. With you.”
She can find no discernible reason that this should be so hard. Especially not when everyone else, Chloe-curious sorority sisters included, apparently take no issue with plunging large foreign objects inside her.
“Just start off gentle.” Chloe instructs. “Let me help you.”
For Louise, who detests accepting help under any conditions, this treads dangerously close to quieting her arousal. Chloe holds her hips, bringing her near, until the toy finally sits on the very edge of her opening.
“Yea—okay, yes.” Chloe gasps, her voice embarrassingly shaky as Louise dips inward.
With the toy only a third of the way inside, its effect is immediately obvious. Chloe closes her eyes, hands finding traction on the fabric of Louise’s shirt. Her ability to provide steady guidance is visibly waning.
“More?” Louise asks, once they’ve both had a second to adjust.
Chloe nods, and she shifts her hips until the strap has gone in deeper.
“You look good on your back.” She murmurs.
Her sexual history with Chloe spans over a year at this point, but this position is still mostly novel for them. Missionary, with its reputation for intimacy, is not the go-to of two girls who can’t even stand each other fully clothed.
“And you look good, when you’re inside me.” Chloe breathes.
Her cheeks are flushed, and a heaving breath makes her chest jump. Louise sees the appeal and the danger of this position—Chloe’s face, undeniably beautiful, is directly in her field of vision.
“You have to move.” She urges, before Louise can say something stupid. “Move your hips, like you’d move your hand. Back and forth.”
With an experimental thrust from Louise, she cries out. Encouraged, Louise repeats the motion until Chloe’s words have been reduced to whimpers.
“Wait, damn it.” She says, the euphoric sounds grinding to an abrupt halt when a minute has passed.
Confused, Louise studies her face for signs of pain. When she looks down, she sees the cause of Chloe’s frustration.
“Oh, what the hell?”
She’s lost control of the toy, and it’s slid out of Chloe and flopped onto the towel beneath her.
“It does that sometimes.” Chloe explains. “Are you not doing it right?”
If it wasn’t bad form for a sexual encounter, Louise would struggle to resist decking her.
“Am I doing it right?” She asks. “You’re supposed to be the expert, Chloe!”
She groans, head slamming down on the pillow behind her.
“Well, it’s not like I’m ever the one wearing the stupid thing! Obviously, ugh.”
“Sorry, pillow princess. I forgot you’ve never worked a day in your life.”
“Will you shut up? Just…I don’t know! Do it better.”
“Do it better, thank you. That’s great advice, Chloe. Really profound.”
Louise grabs a spare pillow from the other side of the bed, inserting it under Chloe’s back to bring them closer together. Slowly, less nervous this time, she slides the toy inside for the second time. It effectively silences Chloe, who stretches a hand in Louise’s direction.
Now caught in a blur of arousal, she’s lost her pride enough to admit to wanting affection. She tries to hide it, but Louise is pretty sure she secretly craves tenderness. Acting so cold all the time gets lonely; Louise has been there, too. She links their fingers together, kissing Chloe’s pale knuckles. They don’t love each other, but sometimes it’s nice to pretend they do. When she tries going in for a kiss to the lips, the strap slips out again.
“Shit!” They say in unison.
“Is it always this annoying?” Louise asks.
Chloe’s face is a brighter shade of pink now, and her breathing has grown heavier.
“Kind of. We should try a different way. Let me sit in your lap.”
As Louise sits up, she curses her lack of experience. She’d been relying on her prior knowledge to skate through, but that well has already been drained. Sure, she’s been with a guy, but multiple positions? Now she’s even more clueless than before.
“Add more lube.” Chloe orders, crossing her arms to absolve herself of the responsibility.
Louise takes the suggestion, wondering if Chloe has ever in her life agreed to get her fingers this gross and sticky.
“Is that good?” Louise asks, when she’s added a hefty amount. “I think you can try again now.”
She soaks in the vision in front of her, admiring Chloe’s body as she sinks onto her lap. She kept white tube socks on, the sole article of clothing she’s still wearing, and that probably shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.
Chloe grips her by the shoulders, keeping her body still as she lowers back onto the strap-on. For something so big, Louise realizes, she seems far more comfortable than what she’d expected.
“Geez, how many of these poor straight girls have you lured here?”
Once Chloe adjusts, gasping sharply, she appears to take offense to the question.
“They’re not straight, Louise. They think they’re straight, and then they meet me.”
Louise snorts.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me rephrase: how many lost souls have you converted?”
Chloe seems to count in her head.
“Four? I think. That’s only counting sex-sex.”
With lesbians, sex -sex could mean pretty much anything. There’s no standard definition. Regardless, plenty of girls have touched Chloe since she went off to college. Girls who probably know about makeup and wear more than a B-cup.
“Four? It’s October. When did you get so slutty?”
Louise pretends she can feel Chloe’s tightness, that her wet pussy is clenched around her own anatomy. She wants to see her with these other girls, bending into new positions like a health class dummy.
“Slutty? It’s not slutty. This is what college is for, Louise. Like you haven’t been fighting people off, since I left.”
Louise can’t stop confusion from clouding her face. When guys do hit on her, it’s usually weirdo customers at the restaurant. And her graduating class’s departure seemed to take every age-appropriate lesbian out of Seymour’s Bay.
“You think I’ve been sleeping around?”
Taking Chloe by the waist, she uses her strength to force her down. She inhales quickly in surprise.
“I just—ah, Louise—assumed. If I took you to a party this weekend, every one there would hit on you.”
The world around them moves like a kaleidoscope, everything changing shapes and colors. Louise has always known that Chloe found her attractive, but she figured it was in a secret, embarrassing way.
“Why?” She asks bluntly. “They’re into stained shirts? Tangled hair?”
She means this with no self deprecation. How she looks has never held much weight to her, and things others would be insecure about are meaningless to Louise.
“They’re into people who are sure of themselves. That’s why they like me. Well, that and everything else.”
She kisses her, moaning, as the toy ventures further inside. Louise grabs her ass with both hands, wanting to touch every available inch of skin.
Now that she’s getting used to the whole strap on thing, she thinks it could develop into an addiction. The leverage it grants her is unprecedented, and the sounds Chloe’s making are even more hysterical than usual.
“Why’d you really text me today?” Louise whispers fiercely, tugging her hair.
Chloe gasps at the feeling before glaring daggers.
“Did you just get lube in my hair?”
Louise cackles. She hadn’t thought of that, but it’s a glorious bonus. She repeats the tugging motion, distracting Chloe from all previous anger.
“Answer my question. Why’d you want me to come over here and fuck you?”
Regardless of how quickly Louise responded, Chloe had been the one to text first. That means something. She’s clearly seething, even as the toy continues in and out of her.
“Because you’re good.” She admits through gritted teeth. “I wanted you to come, because you’re good. Better than anyone else I’ve met.”
If Louise was harboring any residual fear, it’s now officially quelled. She slips the toy out, on purpose this time, and pushes Chloe flat on her back. She grimaces, inhaling sharply.
“Louise, don’t be a bitch. I want—“
“Quiet. Open your mouth.”
Confusion is the first thing to cross Chloe’s face, but indignance is quick to follow. She balls a fist, which is deeply non-threatening when her hands are shaking.
“Are you serious? I’m not—“
Louise brings the toy to her mouth, setting it on the brink of her lips, and issues a silent order. Compelled by lust, Chloe scowls once before obeying.
This might be the most exhilarating feeling in the world. As her mouth slides over the toy, Louise imagines she’s ascending. She feels God-like, all powerful, watching Chloe submit in a way she never has before.
“That’s fucking right.” She whispers, barely believing that it’s real.
As Chloe continues sucking, she touches herself in the places Louise abandoned. Her hand gets faster, more desperate, as the toy overtakes her mouth.
“Harder.” Louise says. “You like it harder than that.”
Chloe takes the advice, fucking herself with a frantic wrist. When she comes, her moan is entirely muffled. Her eyes stay shut as the orgasm ripples, sending a visible shock through her body.
“And I’m the bitch?” Louise whispers, mostly to herself.
Somewhat carefully, she extracts. Chloe glares at Louise, then at the toy. It belongs to her, but she stares as though it’s betrayed her trust. Louise feels triumphant—in fact, she may have just developed a new addiction.
“I can see why you like this thing so much.” She admits. “It’s kind of badass.”
Chloe catches her breath. Her pale skin is now burning red, almost splotchy. Her freckles are even more prominent than normal.
“Don’t go bragging about this to your weirdo friends, Louise.” She warns. “Or—“
Louise stops her before she mentions Gene and Tina. There’s no sense ruining a good night with an actual, spiteful argument.
“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill. I don’t exactly want everyone knowing about this either, Chloe.”
In a different setting, maybe, or if Chloe was just marginally less bitchy. But as it is, this encounter will have to stay between them.
“You have to wash it.” Chloe instructs, taking on an air of condescension. “The—thing.”
“The thing? Oh, now you’re shy?”
“Shut up. There are wipes in the box it came from.”
Her chest is still heaving, and Louise’s eyes follow the magical up-and-down motion. The fact that she was ever afraid of this now feels nonsensical. She reaches for the box, but something stops her.
Chloe looks decimated. There’s a slight, almost imperceptible shaking in her hands. Louise grins.
“Wait.” She says suddenly. “Stay put.”
When Chloe starts to rise, she pushes her down by the shoulder. If she’s trembling now, Louise wants to see how far they can take it. How wrecked she can really be.
“Hold still, Chloe.” She orders in a threatening whisper. “I’m not done with you yet.”