Lately, the rumbling of the bus seats always seemed to get to her.
It wasn’t that the city buses didn’t normally rumble—they used big noisy motors, and the vibrations always carried up a bit through the seats. She was simply a little more sensitive of late. Adjusting her groceries in her lap, Paige bit her lip and looked out the window.
Gina. Vexing, goddamn siren of a woman Gina.
She had answered Paige’s ad for an apartment mate roughly 5 months ago, and it had gone relatively well from the start. They were friendly with each other, but generally good at keeping out of each others’ hair: ideal qualities in a suitemate, by Paige’s estimation. But the past month, good lord…
The bus hit a bump, and her stomach fluttered. She ground her teeth.
Utterly vexing. She must have gotten very comfortable over the past month. Because there was no other explanation for the way she had taken to lounging around the apartment in that tshirt every evening. Kicking her feet up on the coffee table. Grabbing that mug from the highest shelf. That god forsaken tshirt stretching and lifting and exposing teasing bits of the curves that demurely hid above those gloriously bare legs.
This is why she was so hypersensitive lately. She knew it. There was only so much daily winding-up a woman could take without some sort of release.
The bus squeaked to a stop, and Paige gathered up her bags and thoughts before stepping out of her seat and onto the sidewalk. She would just have to have a conversation with the girl. Tell her that she was uncomfortable, and ask that she wear pants in shared areas of the apartment. That sounded reasonable, didn’t it?
She rounded a corner and then approached the front steps, shifting her bags onto one arm as she jammed a hand into her pocket for the keys.
It wouldn’t even be entirely dishonest, Paige thought to herself. Her unsated libido was uncomfortable.
She opened the door and stepped inside, climbing a flight of stairs to get to the apartment she and Gina shared. There was a moment of pause outside the door as she heard a hideously noisy, rattling sound coming from within.
“Gina?” Something like a groan sounded faintly from somewhere inside.
“Gina, are you alright?” She quickly unlocked the door and carried her groceries towards the kitchen, where the noise seemed to be coming from. She heard a gasp, and then:
“Ohhh God—PAIGE! PAIGE!” The pained-sounding cries had most definitely come from their kitchen. Paige dropped her groceries and ran the rest of the distance.
“Gina?” she called louder this time, over the noise. “I’m here! Stay calm, what do you nee—…er…”
Her heroics puttered to an awkward halt as she spotted the woman lying on the kitchen table, dress hiked to her hips, hand between her legs. A blender was running, empty, on the counter. Gina arched and twisted a bit to see behind her, face confused and still-flushed with arousal. Paige watched as awareness clicked past the lust, and the woman’s eyes widened.
They both sat frozen for a moment. Paige eventually cleared her throat.
“I was ah…going to make dinner on that table.”
Her suitemate squeaked, hand withdrawing from her panties as she hopped off the table. The color in her cheeks had darkened a few shades.
“Oh God! I’m so sorry! I uh…”
Paige opened her mouth as though to respond, and then merely gestured to the girl’s dress. The hem had half-tucked itself into the band of her panties. The realization earned yet another rush of apologies as the hem was yanked back down to it’s proper length halfway down her thighs.
Paige’s mouth began to twitch into the slightest smile. “Oh no it’s…fine, I just thought you were hurt or in danger or something. What’s with the blender?”
Gina glanced at the appliance, and then hurried over to turn it off. “Oh, it’s for uh. Blending.”
“There’s nothing inside it,” she said, eyebrows raising incredulously.
“There isn’t? Heh. What a cockamamie setup there,” Gina laughed nervously and then redirected the conversation, “Sorry, what were you uh…saying about danger now?”
“You were screaming my name. You sounded hurt.”
“Well I don’t know if I was screaming…”
“Shouting then. But it…was my name?”
“I see.” Paige rubbed the palm of her hand over her mouth, thoughtful. “Sooo. What was the blender actually for now?”
Gina sighed, looking a mite defeated. “To cover up the noise. The walls here are kind of thin.”
“Ah.” Paige watched the suitemate play with the hem of her dress in a self-conscious kind of way. That vexing ache began to return. Clearing her throat, she jerked a thumb behind her.
“Well if you want, I can just put the groceries away and leave you be to um…finish.”
“Hahah!–hem, no. No, I think I’ve done enough to your cooking surface.”
Paige shrugged. “I mean, it’ll need to be cleaned either way. Might as well defile the thing properly.”
“But I’ve already embarrassed myself enough with the shouting and the, er—”
“Oh not at all. I’m not offended.”
“Even though I…I mean I used your eh,”
“It’s fine! Fine, really. Use me all you’d like.”
Gina raised an eyebrow.
“My name,” Paige clarified quickly. “I’m sorry, I meant you could use my name. It’s…fine. Um.”
The two of them stood uncomfortably on their respective sides of the kitchen. Gina shifted her weight onto one foot and scratched the back of her calf with the other. Paige looked back towards her groceries in the hall. After a minute, she cleared her throat once more.
“So uh….wanna fuck?”
“Oh God yes.”
With a relieved sort of grin, Gina hopped up on the table
Paige turned on the blender.
For the next hour or so, Gina drowned it out with her name.
Based on the following request from a friend:
Person A fancies Person B. It may or may not be mutual. One catches the other masturbating and somehow or another realizes that they are the inspiration. Sexy times ensue. Names, genders, and other precise details are up to you. Bonus points if you work in the mention of a blender and/or the word cockamamie (for lulz). Have fun!