Chapter 3
Bridget
“This was the worst idea I’ve ever had,” I groaned, falling onto my back in bed, the phone up to my ear.
It was crowded in here now—my studio, rearranged to fit my bed and dresser as well as my computer and recording equipment—and I bumped my stuffed octopus Carrie and sent her tumbling off the bed and under my desk.
I’d get used to the spatial awareness of the place.
Gina’s voice was cheerful down the line—out of all my content-creator friends, Gina was the pure, concentrated sunshine, the one who never had a bad thought about anyone and you could always count on to say something nice about someone. “I think technically Nikki had it, not you.”
“Oh my god, that’s such a good point. I can blame her.”
“You don’t like her? Is she mean?”
“No, it’s not…” I groaned. “She’s totally sweet and perfectly lovely. And mostly just really, really grateful she gets to stay here. That’s not the problem.”
“Is she hot?”
“Yes, she’s too hot. Oh my god, it’s horrible.” I dragged a pillow over my face, mumbling into the phone. “I felt like I was going to die with her looking at me like that, talking to me like I was the best thing to ever happen to her. I’m gonna die, Gina.”
“Oh, no, don’t die,” she said, her voice thick with real sincerity and worry, like she actually thought I might have died from horniness. Maybe Gina was righter than I thought.
“Well, okay, I’ll try to live. But still. It’s not fair that she’s hotter than I remembered. I started getting horny mid-conversation and then I was getting more and more embarrassed because I was thinking about it, and that just made me hornier, and… ugh.”
“Sounds like she’s probably a great source of inspiration. You’ve been trying to get into the flow of things, right?” she said brightly. “Just use your dirty Victoria fantasies to fuel your writing.”
“I’m not publishing fanfiction of me fucking my roommate. That’s weird even for me, Gina.”
“I’m not saying it has to be about Veronica Jackson the sexy office-girl roommate. It’s just about taking advantage of your own passion to write!”
“Ugh. I have a new vibrator coming in the mail soon, so hopefully that will help distract me.” I paused. “And hopefully they weren’t lying about it being in discreet packaging. Oh, god, I didn’t even think about that part.”
“Just think about how close she’ll be to you when she’s showering… when she’s getting dressed in the morning…”
“Oh my god, Gina, my objectification is reserved for fictional characters and people who consent to it!”
“Speaking of, did you see my latest video?”
“Yes, and it was great, and I’m happy to objectify you because you’re into it and you share it publicly for people to do that. Jeez, it’s not rocket science.”
“Okay, well, just remember what I said. It’ll make great inspiration for your writing!”
So she said, but Gina was blissfully happy with her girlfriends who ravaged her almost daily. She didn’t get what it was like to be desperately attracted to your straight, goody-two-shoes roommate who would probably have a heart attack if she found out you were a professional lesbian smut creator.
But I still gave it a try. Sat at my computer and wrote up a little concept about a girl’s first day at the office where two of her sexy coworkers each wanted to claim her and would ultimately settle to share.
Instead, I just felt frustrated, and even setting it aside and masturbating didn’t help me feel much better.
But whatever. I at least had my sexy Christmas videos ready, since I’d rushed together putting up the decorations and got it done before Victoria got here.
Only catch was that then she was a big fan of the Christmas decorations and I couldn’t just be like oh, yeah, I put them up early so that I could film myself unwrapping a dildo and fucking myself with it while instructing the viewer to get herself off too.
I mean, I guess I could have said that, if only because it’d probably be really funny to see her reaction, but I felt like it might not have been the world’s best idea.
So instead I was pretending to be really into Christmas magic.
When I’d thoroughly worn myself out on trying to make any progress with my writing, I got dressed up decently—I’d pulled a bunch of my business casual clothes back out of the musty old place I’d stored them since I’d quit my job, and I was getting used to seeing myself in slacks again in mirrors—and I headed out to where I was in the kitchen making a sandwich when a knock came from the counter behind me, and I jumped at the sight of Victoria there in a wool coat and a scarf.
“Done for the night?” she said, and I felt a furious burn for one second thinking she was talking about something else before I realized she meant work.
“Oh—yeah. I mean, I’m never really done, I don’t have any… work-life balance. I kind of live my work. But I’m not making much progress, so I came out here to make a sandwich and drift in and out of awareness, and…”
She smiled, and she nodded towards the door. “That works out ideally for us both, then. I want to treat you to dinner.”
“You want to do what?”
She smiled. “My treat. For your generosity, having me here. Please. I don’t do well with accepting gifts, and despite what you said, letting me stay here still feels like a very generous gift. So let me pay you back. Dinner, on me.”
Oh my god, I was going to die. She had to have gotten hotter since we were working in the office together.
She was tall, elegant, with strong shoulders but still decidedly feminine, and long, beautiful waves of brown hair and sharp brows that gave her a commanding presence.
Maybe it was the hair. I’d never actually seen her with it down.
Or maybe it was just that someone was always less sexy as a coworker. Of course, they probably should have been less sexy as a roommate, too. But that sexy confident-cool lean against the counter while she smiled at me like that and asked me out to dinner was not playing fair.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said. “I mean, I’ve got a great… sandwich… right here.”
“Bridget, that’s a single leaf of lettuce on white bread. You can put the lettuce back in the refrigerator, put the bread back in the container, and I will order you whatever kind of food you like.”
“Indian?”
Her eyes crinkled. “That one place on Cesar Chavez, is that still open? Golden Leaf, or something?”
“Not only is it still open, but the seasoned rice is still like crack.”
“Well, what are you waiting for, then?”
For my brain to get out of the gutter. But we’d be waiting for the rest of time. “Let me just get my coat on.”
∞∞∞
Golden Leaf had the tackiest Christmas decorations up, packed in alongside the kind of stereotypical stuff you’d get if you searched Indian decorations on , little golden Buddhas with Santa hats. Most importantly, though, was the food we got, including huge, heaping portions of seasoned rice.
Okay, actually most importantly was the hot girl sitting across from me in the little booth seat under the window, brown eyes fixed on mine in a way that made me all squiggly inside. Couldn’t it have been someone ugly living in my apartment?
“Here’s to… home, I suppose,” she said. “Thank you so much for giving me a place to land.”
“I really mean it, it’s a big help for me too,” I said, tapping my glass to hers. “How’s it going? Finished unpacking all your stuff?”
“Thankfully, yes. I donated and threw away a lot of my things before I came back here. And I didn’t have a lot…” She looked away. “I lived pretty simply in Seattle. Didn’t have a lot of time off to go decorate.”
“Is that why you left?”
“It’s one of many reasons, but I won’t bore you by running my mouth complaining about my life back in Seattle…”
“You can tell me,” I said, cocking my head. “I mean, if you want to. I’m invested. Besides, we’re roomies now, so, y’know.” I cleared my throat. “I mean… you know, we share a home, so we should probably be somewhat open with each other, at least.”
She laughed, lightly, covering it up with one hand. “You don’t have to talk like a corporate press release.”
I slumped back in my chair. “Ugh, I used to be better at it back when I worked there. I lost my touch.”
She laughed more openly this time, flashing brilliant white teeth, and my stomach swooped. “When you were around it all the time. You can talk normally. After all, I heard it said somewhere that we share a home, so we should probably be somewhat open with each other, at least.”
I wished, wished, wished that getting teased like that didn’t turn me on. I shifted slightly in my seat. “Okay, well, then, spill the tea. You know, if you want.”
She strained a smile. “My boss was sexually harassing me.”
“Oh, shit.” Okay, now I really really needed to stop lusting over her. “That’s horrible.”
“It was bad for a lot of reasons, but that was what broke me. I put up with a lot of it for a long time because it was a good paycheck and I felt like I needed to not cause a fuss, but then he told me, in so many words, that if I didn’t want a transfer that would have included a significant pay cut, then I would have to showcase my diverse talents. ”
I cringed myself just about out of existence. “That’s so fucked up.”
“I am… very sorry. I try to get you dinner to make up for showing up with my mess on your doorstep, and I just give you more mess.”
“I mean, you have to share these things with someone or they eat you alive. You can talk to me about stuff. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. That’s disgusting. Did you get to report it to anybody, or were you not safe to?”
She looked away, something on her features like pain and relief in equal measures. “I didn’t feel safe to… I’m intending to send a message to someone reporting it, just because I figure it’s best to at least make an attempt, no matter how slim the odds, in case it might help someone else later on.”