Chapter 14
14
When Ginny asked Elsie to the winter formal sophomore year, Elsie’s whole body fluttered.
Ginny wanted to go to the dance with her. Elsie had let herself imagine it: Ginny in a suit—navy, maybe, or charcoal, their tie matching Elsie’s dress. They’d get her a corsage with an orchid, even though they were expensive, because it was Elsie’s favorite flower. Elsie’s mom would be obnoxious about pictures before dinner somewhere fancy where Ginny would open doors for Elsie and pull out her chair and pay after—with their parent’s credit card, but still. Ginny would go to the dance even though they didn’t really care, and Elsie would only make them stay through one slow song, maybe two, just so she could feel their arms around her. Then they’d ditch and go to Steak ’n Shake in their fancy clothes. They wouldn’t share a milkshake, even though that’d be cute, because Ginny would want Butterfinger and Elsie would want cookies and cream. If they were gonna kiss, it would have to be before they got home, where Elsie’s parents would probably be watching through the window.
But what would happen after that? People broke up, all the time. Just because Elsie’s parents were high school sweethearts didn’t mean she knew how to be in a relationship forever.
She’d dated people before—Sahar Nelson in eighth grade, though only for two weeks and they didn’t do anything but talk on the phone, and a couple of boys here and there—and it never ended well. Sahar broke up with her via text before they’d ever even kissed. One boy told everyone he got to third base with her when she didn’t even know what counted as third base, but unless it was French-kissing, he hadn’t.
The thing about her romantic relationships was they always ended.
All Elsie was sure of at fifteen was that she wanted to be best friends with Ginny forever.
It’s all she’s been sure of most of her life.
Everything else has fluctuated. As a kid she played with dolls and wanted a big family, five children, just like her parents. As a teenager, fighting with her siblings what felt like every time they interacted, she swore she’d never have kids. She’s gone from wanting to work at the store to being forced to work at the store when she’d rather do anything else to wanting to do more at the store but no one in her family will listen to her. Even this past week, Elsie’s gone from engaged to single. Things change, a lot. The only thing that has never changed is that Elsie wants to be best friends with Ginny forever.
So she said no and refused to let Ginny pull away, no matter how awkward it got after.
Staring up at the mosquito net draped around the bed the morning after their fancy dinner, Elsie realizes there’s one other thing that has never changed. She has wanted to kiss Ginny since before they did it for the first time, eleven years old—at Ginny’s house because they didn’t want to risk Claire or Danielle walking in on them in Elsie’s shared bedroom. She wanted to kiss Ginny when they asked her to the dance. She wanted to kiss Ginny in college, tipsy at house parties where they didn’t know the host, Ginny always close but never hovering. She wanted to kiss Ginny at the waterfall, and when their eyes lit up talking about snorkeling—even though Elsie’s lip hurt from the jellyfish sting—and last night, when Ginny told her that what she wanted mattered.
Ginny told her to think about what she wants. Sure, they meant it more like in an overall life sort of sense, but what if what Elsie wants is to act on every moment of longing, every time she looked at their lips too long, every time she watched Ginny build furniture and wanted to test its sturdiness by letting them fuck her on it?
What she wants matters.
Before she can talk herself out of it, Elsie climbs on top of Ginny.
Ginny’s hands find Elsie’s thighs before they’re fully awake, at which point they promptly let go. Elsie grabs each of Ginny’s wrists and moves their hands back where they were.
“This is what I want,” she says. “I want you to fuck me.”
Her voice doesn’t shake, though she’s got butterflies swooping through every vein in her body. Ginny’s fingers flex against her thighs.
Elsie thinks about being eleven. Kissing Ginny, then giggling instead of admitting she liked it. Not looking at Ginny for three whole episodes of whatever show she suggested as a distraction. Her heart hammers against her sternum just as hard now as it had then, waiting for Ginny to reject her.
But Ginny doesn’t reject her. They take a few moments, blink the sleep from their eyes. Then they say okay, and lean up to capture Elsie’s mouth with their own.
The first thing Elsie feels is relief. Thank fuck. Thank fuck. This is what she’s been waiting for. This is what she’s wanted for over a decade. She knows now: this is what she ended her engagement for. Ginny’s lips are as soft as the rest of them. When their tongue connects with hers, Elsie gasps. Desire overpowers relief. Ginny’s mouth is warm and wet and perfect, and Elsie wants it all over her. Wants her mouth all over Ginny, wants to kiss every warm, wet, perfect part of them.
Elsie never let Derrick kiss her in the morning until he’d brushed his teeth. Ginny’s mouth is stale, and still Elsie licks into it. Ginny doesn’t kiss like Derrick.
Kissing Derrick had become routine, almost thoughtless. Even when they were intimate, it never felt particularly special. It never lit her up inside. Before Derrick, she can barely remember; it’s been years since she kissed anyone else. Still, she’s pretty sure it’s never been like this. The sun is barely up, the world around them all soft light, but Elsie feels fluorescent, feels on fire. Not a candle but a firecracker. All heat and sparkling explosions.
Elsie wants to take her time, but she doesn’t want to go slow. She didn’t ask Ginny to kiss her—she wants Ginny to fuck her. She wants to fuck Ginny.
Ginny, though, never moves anything along. They kiss Elsie like they could do it forever, which—yeah, Elsie, too, sure—but she also wants more.
“Can I—” she starts, plucking at the tank top Ginny slept in. They kiss her again, and it takes her a minute to finish the question. “—take this off?”
Ginny nods.
Elsie has seen Ginny’s boobs before. They’ve been best friends forever, they’ve changed together plenty of times. She’s even inspected them once, when Ginny was afraid they had a lump on the underside of one, where they couldn’t see. Elsie had claimed it was a third nipple, but it was just an ingrown hair.
So yes, she’s seen Ginny’s boobs. But not like this. Those times were obviously not sexy. This time is sexy. This time Elsie notices things, like how Ginny’s nipples are more brown than pink, the left more at attention than the right. Their boobs are uneven, too, the right a bit smaller. Elsie doesn’t blink as she takes one in each hand. The right one fits perfectly into her palm, like it was made for it, but the left might be even better, the give when Elsie squeezes, the flesh overflowing what she can hold.
Elsie has never slept with anyone but Derrick. She’s never gotten under someone’s bra before. She felt up Camryn Miller in the dressing room after opening night of A Midsummer Night’s Dream senior year of high school, still remembers the way her nipples hardened through two layers of fabric. Ginny’s nipples do the same, but Elsie actually gets to see it happen. She rolls them between her thumb and index finger, both at the same time. Ginny groans. Elsie needs them to make that noise again. She ducks her head, gets her mouth on one.
The noise Ginny makes at that is even better.
And Jesus, the feeling against Elsie’s tongue. Soft skin and pebbled nipple and somehow, even when they’ve been in Santa Lupita for three days, Ginny still smells like sawdust. Why has it taken them so long to do this?
Elsie licks her way to Ginny’s other nipple. Their boobs really are perfect. Elsie bites without even meaning to, and Ginny gasps. They’re so reactive. It makes Elsie feel powerful, makes her feel good at this, even though she’s not actually sure she’s doing anything right. Is this too long to be spending on Ginny’s boobs? They’re just so nice, shiny with Elsie’s spit by this point. Elsie doesn’t want to move on, but she also does. She wants to get to the main event. She’s never had foreplay take this long. But Ginny hasn’t even made a move to take off Elsie’s shirt.
“You gonna be a pillow princeling,” she uses Ginny’s preferred royal title, “or you gonna take my shirt off?”
Ginny’s face slides into a smirk. “I’ll do anything you want, but not until you ask.”
Elsie rolls her eyes, even while the thought of Ginny doing anything she wants sends a thrill through her. So does Ginny’s voice, low and husky. Elsie has a knee on either side of their hips, her legs spread about as wide as they can go. She adjusts, gets one of Ginny’s thighs between hers, and takes off her own shirt.
“Fuck.”
They both say it at the same time—Ginny at the sight of Elsie’s boobs and Elsie at the feel of her center against Ginny’s thigh. She closes her eyes, and when she opens them, Ginny is still staring. Elsie wonders what they notice that they’ve never noticed before. She rolls her shoulders back, pushing her chest out. Ginny’s hand comes up, reaches, before dropping back to their side, the look on their face almost embarrassed.
Elsie beams. “Do you like my boobs so much you almost touched them without me telling you to?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ginny says. But they lick their lips and don’t make eye contact—still too busy looking at Elsie’s chest.
“Touch them.”
Ginny doesn’t need to be told twice. Their touch is gentle, but their calloused fingers are rough against Elsie’s nipples. Elsie gasps, rolls her hips and gasps again. Her underwear is just a wet scrap of fabric. Everything feels so good she can barely think.
Maybe it should be weird. Or Elsie should be nervous. But Ginny has always made her feel safe. And this—it feels impossible and inevitable all at once. Elsie can’t believe they’re doing it. She can’t believe they waited so long to.
Elsie wants Ginny to keep playing with her nipples. She wants Ginny’s mouth on them, or on her neck, or anywhere. Ginny brushes their thumb back and forth, and Elsie can’t stay upright anymore. She collapses down, and for the first time, their upper bodies are skin to skin.
Fuck.
Ginny is warm, and soft, and perfect. They turn their head to bite gently at Elsie’s jaw. Elsie could get lost in this. She could give herself over to Ginny. And she will—she will, she wants to—but she can’t yet. If they keep going like this, it won’t be long until Elsie can’t think at all—her whole body feels like molasses, slow and sticky and sweet, and there’s something she needs to do while she can still focus.
She slides down the bed to settle between their legs. Ginny’s blue plaid boxers are soft and paper-thin under Elsie’s fingers. She leaves them on, for now.
“I’ve never done this before,” she says, like Ginny doesn’t know that. They know everything about her.
“You don’t have to.”
If Ginny thinks that, maybe they don’t know everything about her.
“I thought I got to do whatever I want.” She smirks, then bites Ginny’s thigh.
Ginny’s response is half laugh, half gasp.
“Thank god,” they say. “I was just trying to be gentlemanly.”
“How about you come all over my face like a gentleman?”
“Jesus.”
Jesus, indeed. Elsie doesn’t even know where that came from. She’s never been much of a dirty talker, never been much of a noisemaker during sex at all, but it’s fun to surprise Ginny.
Elsie pulls their boxers off. She takes great care in sliding them all the way down, over one ankle, then the other, before looking back up. There’s Ginny’s cunt.
“Oh,” Elsie says. A jungle of dark curls covers Ginny’s mound, spreading down to their inner thighs.
“I, uh, haven’t done any landscaping recently,” Ginny says like that’s somehow bad.
“You’re perfect.” Elsie says. “I’ve never seen a prettier pu—wait, can I call it a pussy?”
Ginny breathes out a laugh. “What else would you call it?”
“Well, I didn’t know if that felt gendered or something.”
“You’re very sweet but I could not care less.”
There’s this undertone in Ginny’s voice, not quite a whine but close, and Elsie would very much like to stop talking about terminology. Whatever you want to call it, Elsie puts her mouth on it. The gasp Ginny lets out is heaven.
Elsie has tasted herself before. Derrick liked her to lick his fingers after—okay no, not thinking about Derrick right now. Elsie has tasted herself before. Elsie likes the way she tastes. Ginny tastes better.
Elsie always knew she’d like eating pussy—she never knew she’d like it this much. She gets why they call it eating now. It’s so much more than just mouth to cunt, tongue to clit. Elsie bites and sucks and nibbles and licks.
It’s ludicrous, but she thinks of the Minnesota State Fair. At the end of every summer, Ginny and Elsie go to the fair together. When they were kids, their parents would give them twenty dollars to spend on games and they’d go on a wristband day for unlimited rides. The fair before they started college, Ginny signed them up for the pie-eating contest.
Eating Ginny out reminds Elsie of that pie-eating contest. It seems absurd, but the similarities are obvious—the different textures between the plump flesh of Ginny’s lips and the sweet slickness inside and their clit, round like a blueberry. The way Elsie wants to be thorough, licking every crevice. The way her face gets messy and she doesn’t care one bit. It has its differences, of course. Ginny hadn’t writhed during the pie-eating contest. They hadn’t cursed, hadn’t reached for Elsie’s head but stopped themself before holding on.
“You can,” Elsie pulls away to say. Then she remembers— “I want you to.”
Elsie gets what she wants.
Elsie has always liked the power of blow jobs. Derrick was never more at her mercy than when his dick was in her mouth. But here, she doesn’t feel in control. Ginny isn’t, either, though. They’re both free-falling, Elsie’s mouth on Ginny and Ginny basically humping her face. Elsie doesn’t even know what she’s doing with her mouth anymore, what her tongue is licking, what her teeth are scraping against. Her brain isn’t translating anything beyond how much she wants Ginny to come. She’s feral with it.
Ginny’s fingers clench in Elsie’s hair. It hurts, but in a way Elsie can’t actually process. Like rationally she can tell her brain registers pain, but everything feels so perfect, it’s not really there. Elsie squeezes her legs together, desperate for some kind of friction. The underwear she slept in is soaked.
“You want me to come?”
Elsie mmhmm s against Ginny’s clit and again, she gets what she wants.
Ginny tastes even better then, not exactly a gush of wetness, but more, certainly, the taste stronger. Elsie keeps going until Ginny pushes her away.
“ Fuck. ”
Elsie wipes her mouth discreetly on the sheet before scooching back up the bed to be face-to-face. “That means I did good, right?”
Ginny’s laugh is breathless. “Yeah, Els. You did great.”
They butt their head at her, capture her lips with their own. It’s soft, for a moment, before Ginny’s tongue comes out, insistent, like they want to lick their taste from Elsie’s mouth. Elsie loves it—both Ginny’s voracity and the way they taste. She would’ve stayed down there longer, but she needs something else.
“I want you to go down on me,” she whispers, looking Ginny right in the eye.
Whenever Ginny encourages Elsie to break the rules—to take an extra-long lunch break or ignore a NO TRESPASSING sign on a private beach or sneak candy from the dollar store into a movie theater—they have a specific smile. That’s what’s on their face now, a grin that’s equal parts mischievous and thrilled.
“As you wish,” they say, and slide down the bed.
Elsie clenches her fists. She almost rescinds her request; this is scarier than going down on Ginny. No one but Derrick has ever seen her like this, has ever touched her. Ginny has touched other people. Elsie knows the first girl they went down on—Annie Walker senior year of high school.
What if her vagina is weird?
Ginny’s hands stroke Elsie’s bare thighs and Elsie tries to focus on the feeling.
“I don’t know if I could’ve held out if you didn’t ask soon,” Ginny says. “Really wanted my mouth on your cunt.”
As though the words didn’t elicit goosebumps all on their own, Ginny presses their tongue against Elsie’s center through her underwear. Elsie makes a noise somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.
“God.” Ginny’s voice is all gravel. “You taste so good.”
They keep licking at her like that, Elsie’s underwear so wet it’s like there’s nothing there, but there is, there’s a barrier and it’s not long before Elsie can’t take it anymore.
“Please,” she gasps. “Please, Gin. Take it off.”
“Take what off?”
Elsie’s too desperate to mind being made to voice it. “My underwear. Take off my underwear. I want your mouth on me. Directly. Nothing in between.”
“Of course, Els,” Ginny says, already tugging the ruined panties down Elsie’s legs. “Wanna give you everything you want.”
Elsie is so turned on she forgets to be nervous about Ginny seeing her bare, but even if she’d remembered, Ginny is so obviously into her it doesn’t matter.
“Speaking of pretty pussies…” Ginny presses their face into Elsie and takes a deep breath in. “God, you smell as good as you taste.”
Their nose bumps Elsie’s clit and their tongue snakes out again and Elsie’s hips come straight off the bed.
A thing about that pie-eating contest: Ginny won.
Elsie can’t—she doesn’t know what Ginny’s doing. She can’t keep track. She can’t form a coherent thought. Everything is yes and fuck and Ginny.
Ginny Ginny Ginny
Afterward, Ginny brings Elsie a glass of water for her dry throat.
“I fucking love the way you say my name,” they murmur, and it’s only then that Elsie realizes she was screaming.
She downs half the glass and sets it on the nightstand, holds her arms out and wiggles her fingers at Ginny to make them climb back into bed and give her a kiss.
“You’re really good at that,” Elsie says.
Ginny smirks. “I know.”
They kiss Elsie again. Deep enough Elsie can’t help but whimper.
“You wanna come again?”
“Oh, it’s okay, I—”
“I didn’t ask if it was okay,” Ginny says. “I asked if you wanted to come again.”
Honestly, Elsie didn’t know that was an option. They’ve had sex. They both came. She might’ve already come more than once, actually—she couldn’t tell if it was a new orgasm or just a second wave as Ginny kept sucking her clit. But that was it, right? That was sex. Of course, she’d love to come again. Saying it, though—she had no problem in the moment, in the middle of it, telling Ginny what she wanted, but now that she’s not desperate, it’s harder to admit.
“Elsie.”
“I wanna make you come again, too.”
Ginny gives a nod. “I’m amenable to that.”
“Will you just kiss me for a while first?”
“I’ll do anything you want.”
They don’t have to keep saying that. They’re being sassy, committing to the bit, but it also makes Elsie’s blood run hot to hear it.
Everything Ginny does makes Elsie’s blood run hot. The way they kiss, not aggressive but not soft, just present. Like they are fully here; there’s nothing they’d rather be doing. Like there’s nothing better than this. And maybe there’s not. Ginny’s soft lips and warm tongue and occasionally even their teeth, digging into Elsie’s bottom lip. Elsie whimpers, every time, but even that doesn’t make Ginny do it more. She’s sure they would if she asked, but she doesn’t. She wants this—Ginny on top of her, taking their time. It’s different than when Elsie was on top. Elsie likes Ginny’s weight, likes the way their body is big enough to cover hers, even though they’re shorter.
They kiss like they’re teenagers. Deep and wet and desperate. With so much tongue it feels obscene. Every time Ginny dips their head to suck at Elsie’s neck, Elsie gasps, shudders, asks for more. A necklace of hickeys is worth it for how good Ginny’s mouth is.
Ginny keeps grinding down against Elsie’s thigh. Their cunt is slick, sliding against her skin. Elsie wants them to rub it all over her body. They shove their hips down again, gasping.
“Can you come like this?” Elsie asks.
Ginny’s eyes are closed. They nod.
“I want you to,” Elsie says immediately. “Come on me.”
It doesn’t take long.
Ginny rolls off after they’ve come, collapses into Elsie’s side. Elsie presses a kiss to their forehead. One to the bridge of their nose. And a last one to their lips, softly this time. She wants to tell them she loves them. She does—not like that, but she loves them. She’s always loved them. They’ve said it to each other countless times over the years. But Elsie doesn’t say it this time. She doesn’t want Ginny to think it’s weird.
Ginny props themself up on an elbow and looks down at Elsie.
“Your turn,” they say, then drop another kiss on her mouth. “How do you want me to make you come?”
Elsie clenches around nothing. She looks at Ginny’s chin instead of holding eye contact, but they don’t let her get away with that.
“Hey.” Ginny ducks their head to catch her eye. “Whatever you want is okay. If you don’t want to come again, that’s—”
“No, I do,” Elsie interrupts. “I do! I just… I want you inside me.”
Ginny’s face breaks open with a cheeky grin. “Yes, please.”
Speaking up for what she wants, it turns out, is pretty fucking great.
Five seconds after admitting she wants Ginny inside her, Elsie is coming. It’s the moment Ginny slides two fingers in, not fast or hard or even moving them at all—just that first penetration and Elsie’s gone.
Ginny kisses Elsie hard as she recovers. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Then they start pumping their fingers.
Elsie always thought Derrick was good at sex. He made sure she came, every time, even if he came first. That’s not something that all guys do, but he did. One morning with Ginny and Elsie’s realizing that maybe giving your partner an orgasm is actually the bare minimum. Or maybe Ginny’s really fucking good in bed. Either way, Elsie comes again, then again.
“You want another?” Ginny asks while Elsie’s still too lost to know how to open her eyes.
“Do you want me to die ?”
Elsie can imagine exactly how Ginny’s face looks when they chuckle in response. Seriously, she should’ve fucked her best friend years ago.
There’s not even any awkward silence after. It’s silent, sure—except for how hard Elsie is breathing, still—but it’s not awkward. It’s just them. They’ve lain next to each other in bed hundreds of times before. It doesn’t feel that different even though they’re naked and satisfied.
“So what else do you wanna do today?” Ginny asks after a while.
“Virginia Marie Holtz.” Again, Ginny is their full name. “If you think I want anything that involves either of us leaving this bed, you’re dumber than you look.”
“Oh geez, thanks.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Elsie rolls over so she can pepper their face with kisses. “Though you did look pretty dumbstruck while you were riding my thigh earlier.”
Elsie really could stay in bed all day. There’s so much she wants to do to Ginny, so much she wants Ginny to do to her. She may have only ever had sex with Derrick until now, but she’s seen porn—she knows there are options. Positions and toys and probably things she’s never thought of before. She wants to get her fingers inside Ginny, wants Ginny to grind on her face the way they grinded on her thigh. She wants to do everything.
“You just said you would die if I made you come again,” Ginny says.
“Well, who says I can’t make you come again?”
“We’ve gotta eat something at some point.”
Elsie smirks. “I don’t know, I think we’ve been doing a lot of eating this morning.”