Chapter 10 #2
While weeks, or even days ago, Charlotte would’ve just wondered what they would look and feel like, now it’s not just casual curiosity anymore. She needs to know, almost like her body isn’t giving her another option: act on it, or be haunted by imagining that you act on it.
Today she’s having a hard time giving in to the ogling when Riley is sunbathing by the pool—all the way across from where Charlotte is—because at some point she has started to compare herself to the countless straight males who can’t think of anything else but to touch and have sex with a woman.
Every comment she wants to make, every attempt at flirtation, or just wanting to let her know that she appreciates the view: it all sounds wrong in her mind when she pictures it being a man who says it.
She wants to be better than that. She is better than that.
Her reservations about desirably staring and boldly flirting get thrown out the window when Riley, upon passing her on the way to the bar, asks her if she can 'please stop being so attractive', as she’s disturbing public order in that bikini.
Charlotte realizes that any man would’ve gotten punched in the face after saying something like that.
But when Riley does it, she instantly feels herself getting wet and the muscles in her lower stomach contract.
Interesting. So if Riley can get away with it, maybe Charlotte can get away with a lot more than she thinks too.
At the same time, these comparisons to men make her very much aware of the fact that her mind has never felt this occupied by lust before when it comes to her heterosexual history. Is it because this is new territory? Or because the idea of being with a woman is really that much more exciting?
The universe definitely doesn’t screw around when it comes to Charlotte, which is why the irony is not lost on her when Riley returns to her lounger, drink in hand, and the bed next to her gets occupied by a handsome man in his forties.
She can tell he’s handsome because of his strong jaw, smooth skin, dark stubble and a nice, toned body.
And yet, it does nothing to her. How could it, when right next to him is the most sexy, intelligent, and caring woman ever?
So confident in her own body, her yellow string bikini barely covering the necessities, her legs sprawled out to catch the Mexican sun—goddamn, one of those legs that was pressed up against her cunt a couple of days ago.
Charlotte sits up in her chair. She takes her sunglasses off and puts her theory to the test. She looks over to the guy once more and… nothing. Not even when her eyes land on the bulge in his swim shorts.
Her eyes flick to Riley. She feels herself getting lightheaded, her heart rate goes up, and the need to touch and squeeze and caress that flawless skin becomes almost unbearable.
Back to the guy: her fire quickly sizzles out, until there’s just some smoldering ashes left.
She scolds herself as she completely blocks him out to take in everything Riley is putting on display.
Even from this distance, she can feel the effect of the magnetic pull Riley has on her.
The softness of her—how soft would she be under that bikini?
—and the way her quirky personality just challenges Charlotte in all the right ways.
The more she thinks about it, the more logical it feels.
Of course she’s into her. Of course it makes sense to want her.
What starts making less and less sense, is what on earth Charlotte is waiting for.
She could have Riley for herself, right now, and allow herself to finally have the experience she’s been missing out on.
Finally draw out the memories of mediocre sex—would this actually be better than what she’s used to?
—and finally know what it will feel like to make her moan, make her feel good, make her come completely undone.
Just like that, Charlotte can’t think of a single reason to wait anymore. She grabs her phone, pulls up Riley’s message thread, and sends the text. Just two words that might be about to change her life.
'I’m ready.'
She watches from a distance as Riley feels around for her buzzing phone, finds it under a towel and lays back on the lounger, holding it up above her face.
She unlocks it and Charlotte snickers as she watches her nearly drop the phone.
She catches it just before it hits her in the chin and shoots up, ramrod straight.
Riley looks around, finds Charlotte’s gaze, and slides her sunglasses up in her hair while her jaw slowly drops. She smoothly raises an eyebrow, almost like she wants confirmation.
Charlotte smirks, and types another message while Riley keeps watching her.
'I want you.'
Riley looks down as her phone buzzes again and this time Charlotte catches her slamming her thighs together, nervously looking around to see if anyone notices whatever those texts are doing to her.
She grips the edge of the bed with her left hand, looks down at her phone again and starts typing with the right, but then she stops herself halfway through and stands up.
Charlotte feels her heart hammer inside her chest as Riley strides up to her. When she’s close enough for them to speak, neither woman says anything. Riley just stands there, looking Charlotte up and down with a hungry expression in her eyes.
Eventually, she sits down on the far end of Charlotte’s lounger, leaning back on her hands, maintaining eye contact.
At first, Charlotte finds it frustrating, the way she just sits without saying anything. But then she realizes what Riley’s doing: she’s trying to find any reservations, any sense of pressure or impatience, any hesitation in Charlotte’s eyes.
That’s when Charlotte’s own demeanor shifts from expectant to determined. She narrows her eyes as one side of her mouth curls up, and she gives her a miniscule nod.
Holding her breath while she waits for a response, she watches Riley fight her own battles behind her eyes until eventually she returns both the smile and the nod. Charlotte breathes out shakily.
“Tonight,” Riley whispers, reaching out to playfully tickle Charlotte’s ankle and calf with the pads of her fingers, making her leg twitch. “After dinner, we go to our own rooms. I’ll give us twenty minutes to freshen up. And then I’ll come to yours.”
Somehow, even now Riley’s words go straight to her core. She shivers and has no control over the soft whimper that leaves her mouth. Would it be inappropriate to just… attack her here, rip off that skimpy bikini, and kiss every inch of her skin? Probably.
Instead, Charlotte purses her lips and nods again. Riley smiles, gets up, and walks back to her own lounger, giving Charlotte a perfect view of her full, round ass that she kind of wants to set her teeth in.
Oh shit. Riley is going to come to her room. And she’s going to do things to her. If she plays her cards right and Riley makes good on her promise, she’s about to get her brains fucked out.
She’ll need an ice cold shower before dinner.
If she thinks dinners with the four of them have been difficult before, this one almost makes her want to cry, even when Riley is keeping her taunting comments to a minimum.
Charlotte mindlessly pushes her meal around on her plate, until Gabi asks her if she’s okay.
“Yeah, just not very hungry,” she shrugs. “I’m sure it’s the heat.”
When she looks up, she is met with a reprimanding shake of Riley’s head.
“Eat,” she mouths, and Charlotte can’t even stop herself from getting turned on by that subtle command.
“Is your mind somewhere else?” Gabi inquires innocently. “Or… with someone else?”
“Yeah, any hot Mexicans in your wedding rolodex?” Lou pipes up. “You know it’s tradition for the bridesmaids to get laid.”
Charlotte forcefully stabs her salad and shoves a large amount of food into her mouth. “No hot Mexicans on my radar,” she replies while chewing. “Way too busy making everything perfect for you.”
“Don’t be celibate on our account,” Gabi huffs. “God knows it’ll be a better day for everyone if you find someone to bang.”
And after a few more highly uncalled for comments on Charlotte’s sex life and mood, she comes pretty damn close to blowing the whole thing off. The only thing that saves the wedding in that moment, unbeknownst to the brides-to-be, is the fact that Charlotte’s mind is indeed already elsewhere.
She excuses herself pretty soon after finishing dinner, buying herself more time until Riley will ultimately come knocking at her door.
She tidies up her room—she’s not messy, it’s organized chaos—and puts Shaky in his playpen in the bathroom, but not before showering his little head with kisses first.
She spends the remainder of the time looking at herself in the mirror from different angles, which isn’t doing anything to help calm down her nerves, but it does satisfy her need for control.
She smiles at herself when she notices the light tan she’d gotten over the past week, making her skin radiate.
Her semi-permanently flushed cheeks and her smile lines, which seem to have gotten a little deeper, make her study herself some more.
She looks different. Happy. Giddy. And despite her age lines: younger.
Trying multiple looks to help her choose between putting her hair up or leaving it down, she eventually settles on up, freeing the access to her neck.
Even though she’s wearing a light off-shoulder sundress, she’s showing a lot of skin.
It’s a short dress; it reaches down just below the swell of her ass when she’s standing up.
And when she’s not standing up… well, she’s sure Riley won’t mind.
A slight concern for whether Riley would mind, is the state of her body hair. She has cleaned up her legs and bikini line this morning, plucking stubborn stubble from the creases of her inner thighs all the way to the hollow of her knees, but what to do about the rest of it?