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Thud. Thud-thud. Huff. Thud.
A slightly anxious intrusive thought - is 'water resistant' the same as waterproof? For the good of her over-ear headphones, Vi hoped so. Her forehead, and the rest of her, was soaked with sweat. Her grey muscle tank sported a dark patch the shape of an hourglass on the back and her armpit hair was dripping.
Thud...thud...thud.
A triplet - that's the timing according to musicians, she's pretty sure. How does she even know th-
Oh.
Probably something that Caitlyn mentioned once. Filed away in the increasing large part of her brain dedicated to collecting any and all information related to the newest addition to their friend group. She remembered now, thinking it made sense that she played the piano with those long and slender, delicate fingers. Perfectly trimmed fingernails. Manicured but unadorned, aside from a plain rose-gold ring on the right index finger. It drew the eye. Well, it drew Vi's eye. Caitlyn drew Vi's eye.
And Caitlyn occupied Vi's brain. Too much. And her efforts to distract herself with the boxing bag were insufficient, as usual. She threw off her gloves and threw back her head, releasing a melodramatic sigh towards the ceiling.
Caitlyn had just appeared at the bar one night, wedged between Mel and Jayce in their usual booth, working through whiskey sours and flashing her tooth gap through shy smiles as though each one didn't shift the ground from beneath Vi's feet. Vi had never experienced such intense and immediate physical attraction, and it was a revelation. She knew she was gay, obviously, and she had been attracted to generically beautiful women in the past but with Caitlyn it was as though a blindfold had been lifted, and the universe was saying "This, Vi, is everything you never knew you needed."
Ever since this universal intervention, Vi now spent her nights (and early mornings) (and late afternoons) ruminating on skin - Caitlyn's perfect alabaster vs. her own scarred and lightly freckled, on hair - Caitlyn's artfully messy blue ponytails contrasting her own choppy home-shave, on the superiority of intense blue over dull grey eyes and the melody of soft English accents flowing over harsh American.
If she's being kind to herself, or torturing herself with what-could-have-been's, Vi imagines that the synchrony of one lithe, tall and subtly muscular form entangled with a broader, stronger and artfully tattooed body would be aesthetically pleasing. She's proud of her body, at least, even if she feels that Caitlyn is out of her league and world and universe in every other sense.
This was the line, the tipping point between pleasure and pain, the point at which it is unclear whether indulging the fantasy is worth it. As usual, ever the masochist, Vi edges over. Tips. Indulges.
She lets her imagination run as she sheds her workout gear and steps into the shower. Unsubtle as usual, she reaches straight down, two fingers pushing through trimmed hair, hitting her clit and slowly starting to roll the hood over the shaft. Her clit is hard already and there's a small amount of her own thicker wetness amongst the stream of water from the shower head to help lubricate. She imagines Caitlyn commenting on it - her cum. Her wetness. Yes, it's all for her and it's been like that since the day they met. Vi doesn't have much at all to compare, and she and Caitlyn have only fucked in her dreams and fantasies, but she knows in her soul that her's is the only touch she wants. The desperation to have those elegant fingers deep inside and rocking as she whimpers is almost overwhelming as her own fingers keep working to bring on more wetness in her cunt.
As she slides lower, parting her lips and shallowly fingering her wet entrance, an internal voice tells her how pathetic it is to be so turned on, so exclusively, by this woman who considers her one of the masses. Nothing special. An acquaintance, or to be fair, by now, a friend at most. Her mind wanders to times she's tried to engage Caitlyn alone, to talk to this gorgeous woman in private, to have her attention and her interest and to possibly move things forward. She's fallen over words, and fallen over herself. Said something dumb, or boring. Or maybe even looked just a little to keen, trying a little bit too hard. She's been met with kind eyes usually, but sometimes -
Sometimes. A laugh at her expense, at her humiliation.
"Ha! Come on, Vi, pick yourself up, you silly thing. How can you box but still be so clumsy? Pathetic!” Laughter, a smile, a glimpse of that gap in her teeth.
Vi’s entrance stretched as she sunk three fingers inside. Roughly, because she liked the sting of a lustful penetration. Like might happen if Caitlyn was enjoying Vi’s humiliation as much as Vi and wanted to demean her further by feeling for herself how much Vi’s cunt throbbed and clenched when Caitlyn teased. Everything was really fucking wet now, the sounds of her thrusts distinct over the fall of water. She humped against her own fingers, imagining that Caitlyn would enjoy remaining still inside Vi while she was close to orgasm, and would be amused by Vi’s desperation in fucking herself over the finish line.
Sometimes she received a raised eyebrow and a stern look down a lovely, sharp nose.
“What’s the matter, Vi? Stumbling over your words! Have you had too much to drink or do you always become speechless around pretty women? Be a good girl and save that mouth for something more useful.”
That one stuck with Vi for days. She could almost physically feel the carpet on her knees during her fantasies of Caitlyn standing over her, buckles undone and thong pulled aside with one hand, the other firmly guiding Vi’s mouth to her clit with the instruction to “Shut up and lick me”. Vi would indulge, messily, sucking and licking as much of Caitlyn as she could reach while Caitlyn would assert herself by grinding on Vi’s tongue.
Afterwards, she imagines, Caitlyn would certainly have Vi position herself head down, ass up on the mattress so that she may inspect the effect of making Caitlyn cum. Of course her pussy would be a mess, her own wetness all over her legs, and her lips pink and puffy, swollen to the point of pain and desperate to be touched.
“Look at the state of you, Vi. It turns you on that much to have me come in your mouth?”
Vi would moan in response, which would not be good enough. A rough slap to her cunt would help her to verbalise, after a gasp, that “Yes, I love to suck your clit. I love to taste you, Caitlyn. Please, can I come?”
“I want you to wait, Violet. I haven’t had enough of you yet…” Vi knows in her soul that she would fail, that any brief touch of Caitlyn’s after any mild degradation would have her cunt throbbing out an orgasm in the blink of an eye. And in fact she was coming in the shower even thinking about it, walls tightly squeezing on her fingers as her knees bent, thighs clenched and head rushed.
“Fuck…” she breathed out, short of breath and cheeks hot.
The post-masturbation rinse-off in the shower had become necessary not just from a cleanliness standpoint, but also as a way of recentering herself as pleasure gave way to her usual state of longing. It wasn’t sustainable to have such intense fantasies and desire for this woman without at least attempting to make it a reality.
“Come on, Vi. It’s time” she encouraged herself, as she got ready to meet everyone at the bar.