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Alexandra Henderson glanced at the bottom-right corner of her laptop screen. 7:50 p.m., Thursday. The coffee shop right outside the library reading room closed at eight, the library itself not for another five hours. Five more hours for economic theory, ten minutes for coffee. Easy choice.
As she waited in line, Alexandra took in her surroundings. A high, gothic ceiling in the mostly empty reading room, a fluorescent-lit foyer, and her own sweatpants and sweatshirt in the middle of it all: in total, a rather depressing sight, and the first night of many she’d resigned herself to spend in her new study spot.
The worker at the counter nodded glumly as she ordered a peppermint mocha with whipped cream. Winter in Chicago seemed to make the people’s moods as cold and gray as the air outside. Not that Alexandra felt any better: the end of her senior season of soccer and getting re-dumped by her off-and-on boyfriend for the the third time were not helping her mood. Not at all.
The glum barista handed Alexandra the drink. She put her head down, one hand in the pocket of her hoodie, and started to return. As she passed the imposing dark wood circulation desk and headed toward the stone-arched entrance to the reading room, a voice came from behind the desk, just over her left shoulder.
“Hey, you play soccer here?” The friendly-sounding voice belonged to a blonde woman sitting behind the desk.
“Played. Past tense,” Alexandra said, turning in the doorway. “Why?”
“I’m sorry. Tough way to end, yeah?” The University’s women’s soccer team had lost their conference final 1-0 on a goal in the 85th minute.
Alexandra nodded, unconsciously grabbing the end of her braided, light-brown hair that hung over her left shoulder. “It was. A shit week overall, and now it’s just econ from here on out.” She started to turn back towards the reading room.
“I played too. Not here, of course. My last game, I scored an own goal off a corner and conceded a penalty. I’d been first team all-conference for three years and the captain for two.”
“Fuck me. That’s rough,” Alexandra said, approaching the desk. Economics could wait.
The blonde shrugged. “You’ll get over it.” She folded her hands on the desk in front of her, bright-red nails reflecting some of the excessive lighting. “The econ, maybe not so much. I did that as an undergrad, too.”
“Now I’m in law school, freezing my ass off in a cold apartment and working a circulation desk in an undergrad library so I can earn money and study at the same time.” She smiled a half-smile. “The coffee’s not bad here, either, and I get a freebie every shift.”
Alexandra laughed for the first time in perhaps a week. “Good enough to get the job done, I guess. It’s funny. I should have moved over here years ago. It’s quiet in there, the ceiling’s nice to look at when I get bored, and my ex-boyfriend doesn’t sit in a study carrel twenty yards from where I most want to study. Livin’ the high life, UChicago-style.”
“Like they say, where fun goes to die.” A full smile now, with green eyes lighting up behind the tortoise-shell glasses.
“Indeed. If it ever started.”
“Oh, come on. It could be worse. You’re done with soccer, you’re single…” She paused. “Right? You’ve clearly got a brain, you’ve got the looks, you’ll have the degree soon. That doesn’t sound so bad to me!”
Alexandra cocked her head to the side. “So good that you traded that all for law school?”
“And some wit.” The woman looked downward, seemingly into space, and shook her head slightly. “No, I traded it all for an economics consulting job. Then I quit after three years, totally burned out, twenty pounds heavier, and coming off a disaster of a relationship with a dude who seemed perfect on paper. So I just left.”
Alexandra put the mocha down on the counter. “Left?”
“Left. I’d made 150 grand a year after the salary and the sorry-you-worked-until-midnight bonus money. So I traveled for two years, learned three more languages, forgot about the stupid guys, lost the weight, and got myself back better and happier.” Another pause as she tapped on the desktop keyboard. “And then I went to law school. So here I am, barely hanging onto my twenties, back at yet another crossroads, sitting at a desk again.”
“Where’d you go?”
The woman looked back at her, uncomprehending.
“On your travels?”
She laughed, her eyes coming back into focus. “Oh! Um, well, I hit every continent except Antarctica. I spent the most time in Europe and South America, but I also was in New Zealand for around six months, hiking and working on this cool little working-holiday visa scheme they’ve got.”
“Wow. Just…wow. That sounds amazing. Did you keep a blog or anything? Pictures?”
The woman grinned again. “Both, but I stopped the blog about halfway through. I’ve got pictures on Facebook though, loads. Some are a little more…private…than that,” she said, winking while still laughing.
“Would it be too weird if I asked you güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri if I could see them? The, uh, not-private ones?” Alexandra felt confused. Was this girl – woman? she’s almost thirty, after all – hitting on her? Playing soccer, she’d been hit on by women before. It wasn’t pleasant: sweaty girls in the locker room trying to hit her up right after practice. No thanks. Ick. Not going there.
“Well, friend me and you can see them all.” She paused to write her name on a sticky note, her slender, tan wrist extending towards Alexandra. “Sorry, I’m Kira,” she said, handing it over.
“Alexandra. Henderson.” Moreover, if she was being hit on, Alexandra realized, it was beginning to work. The familiar signs were there: her voice rose a step or two and tended towards a stutter, her stomach muscles contracted slightly, and a slight tingling emerged along her skin. That was new. But didn’t this girl say something about a long relationship with a dude? “It’s nice to meet you…Kira.”
“Likewise, Alexandra.” Kira stared, not even trying to hide it. First at Alexandra’s hair, then down the length of her body, to the floor, taking in what little could be seen despite the sweatsuit.
“Well, back to the books” Alexandra managed to blurt as she began to turn, finally heading through the arched doorframe.
“Enjoy the pics.”
Alexandra made no reply as she scooted through the doorway and slipped into the seat just inside, looking again at her laptop. Then down at the sticky note: Kira Manning, it read, in swooping, confident, handwriting. Well, time to find out, she thought. Alexandra logged onto Facebook.
Ten minutes later, she had her answers. Kira Manning. Third-year law student, economics degree from Princeton, originally from outside of Houston. Album after album of photos from virtually every country in Europe and South America, and another three albums of New Zealand hiking photos alone, each more spectacular than the previous one. Shorter blonde hair in the earlier photos, increasing in length to the present, which looked like maybe mid-back length. Tall – at least 5’9″ or 5’10”- unless everyone she knew was a munchkin. Tight, athletic body with slightly masculine, wide-ish shoulders, and what Alexandra had already noticed to be substantial breasts, at least D cups on an otherwise fairly narrow frame. This last fact caused a bit of a start for Alexandra: noticing women’s breasts – and staring at them in photos – was not something she usually did.
Oh, and Kira was apparently single, with no orientation listed. No recent photos with men in them, romantic or otherwise. Not that many recent photos at all, in fact, except more hiking shots from around the United States and Canada. Alexandra closed the browser window.
The hours thudded by one page of notes at a time. Alexandra felt her head drooping more than once, and her eyes seemed to glaze over for minutes at a time. As time went by, the tables around her emptied, and soon it was nearly midnight. She was the only patron left, and the library was about to close.
Alexandra folded closed her book – quietly, so as not to disturb the careful silence that enveloped her – and looked at the weather app on her desktop. Sixteen degrees. Ugh. The temperature had dropped a mind-boggling thirty degrees since nightfall.
Stuffing the laptop in the bag and putting on her knee-length parka, Alexandra strode out of the reading room. As she passed the circulation desk, a playful voice interrupted her.
“Hey there, last customer! Look, I don’t mean to pry, but are you planning to walk home in that? You’ll freeze your legs halfway through!”
Alexandra looked down. “Yeah, not the smartest call out there.”
“Wait 3 minutes for me to lock up and you can have a ride. Deal?”
Instead of walking around the desk, Kira simply hopped over it, giving Alexandra her first glimpse of a pair of very long, well-toned legs stuffed into a pair of impossibly tight jeans. As she disappeared inside the reading room, just before she locked the door behind her, she looked over her shoulder and gave Alexandra a wink.
Two minutes later she returned, appearing silently through a different door on the opposite wall and locking it too.
Alexandra realized she’d been staring into space the entire time, not moving an inch, but now she turned around to face the statuesque blonde behind her.
Kira spoke first. “So, I can tell you like my ass. I promise I won’t make the ride home too awkward for ya.”
Alex said nothing at first. She knew the older girl was right. She did like her ass, a perfect muscular bubble, not much unlike her own. “I…I…”
“I know.” Kira cut her off, rolling her eyes. “You’re not into girls.”
Alexandra mumbled something in reply.
“I’m assuming that was a yes. But you still think I have a really nice ass, no?” She walked towards the slender brunette, covering the twenty feet or so in fewer strides than Alexandra had thought güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri possible.
The shorter girl mumbled something again, still not meeting the taller one’s gaze.
“It’s alright. There’s a first crush for everyone. And I think it’s hot that I’m yours. Right?” Her voice had adopted an edge, a tone of confidence and authority. Alexandra noticed it immediately. And she liked it. No, loved it.
She looked up, finally gaining the confidence to speak in more than a mutter. “Yes. I think you’re hot. And yes, I’ve never thought that about another girl.”
The blonde grinned. “Great. I thought so. So maybe I’ll drop you off at home and we’ll see whether you’re too scared to come back here tomorrow?” She held open the rear door to the parking lot. “So, where am I taking you?”
“Fifty-fifth and Hyde Park. Not that far…” Alexandra’s heart began to pound. Kira was right, of course. There was a very high chance she’d chicken out and not come back. She’d spent several years avoiding the rampant girl-on-girl relationships that developed on every soccer team she’d ever played for, and there were reasons for that: girls were catty; they were insecure; they were generally just snippy little bitches, and they were just too small physically. In short, they just hadn’t been attractive. She’d always wanted someone who could wrap his arms around her, literally sweep her off her feet and…
The blast of Arctic air hit her as she followed Kira towards the one vehicle left along the side of the building, a black two-door Jeep Wrangler hard top. She hesitated a moment before opening the door.
By the time she’d swung her way into the elevated passenger seat, Kira had the engine roaring and was reaching across to turn on the heater. As Alexandra reached across her own body to snap closed her seat belt, she accidentally bumped her new crush’s arm, sending a shiver of excitement through her own body. Why was this happening to her, of all people?
Kira shifted the truck into first and slowly pulled around the building. Alexandra swallowed nervously before breaking the ice anew.
“I really like the Wrangler. It’s…a cool truck. It’s badass.”
Kira took her hand off the gearshift momentarily to adjust her glasses, but didn’t look across the front seat, keeping her eyes focused on the road. “You like badass?”
“Yes. A lot.”
Alexandra thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I’m attracted to guys that are outdoorsy but athletic. Take-charge types. Smart. Badasses, not jackasses. But not just football player types, really. Badasses with brains.”
“I like fit…” She paused, realizing with some trepidation that she couldn’t describe physically what she liked in guys other than not being fat. “Yeah, fit.” They cruised through a light just as it changed yellow, Kira lightly tapping the accelerator.
“So you don’t really know what you like physically other than fit, but you know personality-wise what you like a lot more, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Alexandra could feel her palms starting to sweat despite the cold air.
The older girl laughed, swerving into the left lane. “Maybe you should consider why.”
“And what do you think?”
“Don’t be dense. Let me guess: you’ve been with a few guys, and the sex has been no better than mediocre.”
Right again. Well, mostly right. “Yeah. Most of them were boring. One was good.”
“And why was that?”
“Um…” Alexandra blushed. “I guess I found out from him that I like it a little, uh, rough.” They had arrived near her building. “Um, just pull over right here.”
They pulled up out front of Alexandra’s building. It had begun to snow lightly.
Alexandra took a deep breath. “So…”
“So, three things. First, what are you doing tomorrow night.” A statement, not a question. She waited. “Yes, I’m asking you out. On a date. With me.”
Alexandra laughed. She had no idea why she was doing it, but she knew what her answer was. “Well, I guess I’m going on a date with you, then!”
“I’m serious.” The smile was gone, her eyes looking straight into Alexandra’s.
“I’m serious too. I am aware that I’m going on a date with another girl. And I’m not going to wear sweatpants, I can tell you that.”
“Excellent. Dinner and drinks?”
“Mmhm.” Alexandra unconsciously began to bite her bottom lip. “What time?”
“8:30? I like late.”
“8:30 is good.”
“Second, I guess we should exchange numbers, yeah?”
Alexandra took out her phone. “I’m ready.” Kira extended her hand, palm upward, and Alexandra handed it over. As the blonde tapped in her digits and sent herself a text, Alexandra realized she knew what was coming next.
Kira handed the phone back. “Now, third.”
“I think third is the part where we kiss.”
Kira leaned across the seat and ran her fingers lightly along Alexandra’s cheek, her face inching closer and closer to the younger woman’s blushing, nervous smile. As their lips were güvenilir bahis şirketleri only an inch or two apart, she finally answered: “It is.”
To Alexandra, that first kiss felt like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Kira’s lips were soft, her tongue expert and just the right amount of forceful. And it went on forever. By the time they broke apart, Kira’s hand had migrated to the back of Alexandra’s head, and Alexandra’s own arms were draped gently around her new friend’s neck.
Alexandra leaned back, grabbing her bag off the floor, and reached to open the door.
This time Kira took the lead. “Tomorrow night, there’s a lot more coming your way.”
Alexandra nodded. She knew what Kira meant. She had never slept with someone on the first date. But then again, she’d never made out with a girl before. And now she was getting dropped off by an insanely sexy, confident lesbian grad student, and she’d given her her number and had a date for the next night. “Tomorrow.”
They hadn’t meant to kiss again, but they did. This time Alexandra felt herself clutching at the fabric of Kira’s jacket, almost starting to claw as their tongues explored each other’s mouths.
Finally, Alexandra made it out of the truck, across the sidewalk and lobby, and into her elevator. Only then did she notice the incredible warm wetness between her legs. I’m a straight girl who just made out with a lesbian, she thought. What a fucking night this was. What am I in for tomorrow?
Alexandra was lazily flipping through channels and winding down for the night an hour later when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Kira.
Kira: Hey, you still up?
Alexandra: Yep, just watching TV.
Kira: Just wanted to tell you how glad I am we got to meet tonight.
Alexandra, after a minute: Me too. I’m still surprised, but excited.
Kira: How so?
Alexandra: Not a typical study session at the library, that’s all 🙂
Kira: Especially for hitting the books in sweatpants and a huge hoodie.
Alexandra: Speaking of that, not sure how to dress for tomorrow. What are you planning on wearing? Casual? Not so casual?
As the seconds passed waiting for a reply, Alexandra felt her nerves rising. Too weird for a pre-first date conversation? Then her phone buzzed.
A photo arrived of a standing Kira in a parka, hood up. All that was visible underneath was an inch or so of black leggings before the photo cut off mid-thigh. The caption said “Sorry, it’ll be cold.”
Alexandra: 🙂 Cheeky.
A second later, another photo. Kira again, now with her hair down and framing her face. She was wearing a short, form-hugging grey sweater dress with the black leggings. Now her full length was visible, including the over-the-knee black leather boots with what appeared to be 3 or 4 inch heels. The caption read “OK, for real. Here’s what I’ll wear for dinner.”
Alexandra stared at her phone for a second. She was really going to go out with a woman. And worse, she could feel the heat returning between her legs. Kira looked hot as hell in that dress, and with her hair down, and most of all in those boots.
She replied. Alexandra: Wow…guess we won’t be walking too far with those boots?
Kira: Not much, no. What about you?
Alexandra: Not sure really.
Alexandra’s heart began to beat harder. She wasn’t ready for this. Her bedroom was a mess, her apartment was a mess, she had no idea on clothing…
Kira: Come on. Fashion show time. I’ll do another one for you.
Alexandra: OK, don’t laugh at me though. I haven’t thought about this at all. Give me 5 minutes.
She walked into her bedroom and began rummaging through drawers and through her closet. After trying three different outfits, Alexandra settled on her best pair of jeans – the better to show off her round, muscular ass – along with a tight black sweater with an asymmetrical neckline and a bra to push up her well-shaped but smallish 32Bs. She added some practical black flats. The potential height difference appealed to her as she imagined Kira towering over her in her boots. She went back to the living room to get her phone.
There was a message from Kira. The caption simply read “After dinner.” It was a photo from behind and from a low angle. A cascade of blonde hair covered the upper half of her back, but the taut muscles of her uncovered lower back were clear in their definition. Only the string waistband of her black thong broke the even line of smooth skin as Alexandra’s eyes traced down the backs of Kira’s slim but powerful-looking legs and stopped at the tops of the still-present boots.
Alexandra began to type a reply. Halfway through, she understood her difficulty: her right hand had undone the button on her jeans and her fingers were now sliding inside her panties, inching downward. Holy shit, she thought. What the hell?
She erased the reply and began again.
Alexandra: Only from behind? 😛
She waited anxiously for a few moments as her phone indicated Kira was typing.
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