Breakfast

Charlotte was already sitting at the kitchen table when you and Gemma came in. Her bright hair was a wild mess and she didn’t have makeup on, making her look a little more sallow-eyed than you’d seen her before. She was wearing a sweater that looked more like a dress and was sipping from a big mug of coffee.

Becca, meanwhile, was sort of dancing to herself in front of the stove where she was frying up bacon and eggs in a couple of pans. She was wearing a black athletic bra with a white elastic band under her bust, and a tiny black thong. That was it. Her ass, nicely sculpted and jiggling with her movements, was completely out.

“Jesus, Becca,” Gemma said.

“What?” Becca asked, as if she didn’t know.

“John is here,” Gemma said.

“Ah, so what?” Becca asked. “We got a way better look at each other last night. Plus, I’m making breakfast for all three of you. Suck it up.”

You grabbed a chair at the table, snorting out a little laugh at Becca’s antics, while Gemma went to the coffee pot and poured two mugs. She knew your order from work, so when she delivered it the coffee was perfect and you just breathed in the smell of it for a moment as she sat next to you. “Thanks, love,” you said.

“I knew it!” Charlotte said, and turned to Becca. “I told you I heard them saying that last night.”

“Oh, God,” Gemma sighed through a laugh.

Charlotte turned on Gemma. “Really, Gemma? Really? The L-word in the first week?”

“Oh, leave off, Char,” Gemma said. “It feels good to say it and hear it, and we’ve been working closely together for a month. That’s still not that long, but I can say for certain that I love him way more than I ever did my ex and I thought I was going to marry that prick.”

“What about you, Mister?” Charlotte turned on you. “What kind of guy are you, telling a girl you love her on the second date?”

“The kind who is in love with her,” you said. “Look, we talked about it before we said it. We know there are time limits on the horizon, but right now? I love spending time with her at work, I love spending time with her outside of work. I love her as a person, and I also happen to be in utter lust with her too. Good enough?”

“Ugh, this generation,” Charlotte said, waving both of us off. “Whatever happened to no strings attached fucking around in college?”

“Char?” Becca said, coming over with two plates piled with fried eggs and bacon. “We’re three years older than them, and you haven’t slept with anyone but me in two years and we are supposed to be no-strings casual. And I know, it’s not my fault I’m the most skilled strap-on artist in the wild west, but still- shut the fuck up and leave them alone.”

Charlotte stuck out her tongue at Becca, and Becca actually reached out and grabbed it between her thumb and forefinger much to the consternation of Charlotte.

“Gotcha!” Becca said. “Now, unless you’re planning to put that tongue to use, how about you eat up?” She let go of Charlotte’s tongue.

Charlotte stretched her jaw and tongue while shooting a look at Becca.

Through all of this, you’d been trying not to stare at Becca’s ass or barely-covered mound as she moved around. Once she was sitting down things settled down and Gemma’s roommates mellowed out and the teasing became a more mutual, almost sibling-like quality. Things had just started to get awkward for you when the topic of what everyone was doing with their Saturday came up, but the apartment door opening cut off the conversation.

Lucy came through from the entryway. Her hair was mussed, her makeup was a wreck and she was carrying her heels in one hand. You could tell she was hungry because of the way she seemed to almost sniff her way into the kitchen, following the delectable scent of bacon, until she froze a couple of steps in as she spotted the four of you at the table.

Or more likely when she spotted you at the table.

“Morning, Luse,” Becca said. “Looks like you had a fun night.”

“What’s he doing here?” Lucy asked.

“My boyfriend is here for breakfast,” Gemma said. “That a problem?”

Lucy sneered out a frown and stomped out of the kitchen towards the hall with the bedrooms, then turned back around and re-entered with a glare. “I don’t want him here,” Lucy said.

“Well you don’t get to decide who I date or fuck,” Gemma countered.

“Well your sublease agreement says you can’t have someone else come live with you in your room,” Lucy countered.

“He’s not moving in, Lucy,” Charlotte said.

“Though I wouldn’t mind if he did,” Becca shrugged. “He does bring us snacks.”

Lucy grit her teeth and let out a frustrated, girly growl that was more like a kid throwing a tantrum than the college co-ed she was. She even managed to stomp her foot a couple of times before she pivoted and stormed out of the kitchen again.

“Jesus fuck, she’s acting like a right cunt,” Gemma said.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Charlotte groaned, standing from her plate of food.

“Probably a good idea,” Becca nodded. “I like antagonizing her too much.”

“Look, this is her place too,” you said. “I-”

“No no no,” Becca stopped you as Charlotte slipped out of the kitchen after Lucy. “Just because she’s had a shitty morning doesn’t mean we have to. Or a shitty last night or whatever. She only ever dates rich guys, so she only ever really dates douchebags. You reap what you sow.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Gemma nodded. “Which also happens to be why I’m dating you, John.”

“So you want to reap me?” you asked with a teasing grin. “Damn, Gemma. At least buy me dinner first.”

“Augh,” Becca scoffed. “You haven’t bought him dinner yet? Maybe I should jump on this dating train and cook my famous veal parmigiana. I’ll steal him away so quick.” She stuck out her tongue playfully from between her teeth.

“Sorry, Becca,” you said, popping your last piece of bacon into your mouth and then gesturing to Gemma for her to come sit in your lap, which she did. “I’m pretty all-in at this point, even for a woman as gorgeous and with your culinary talents.”

“You know, I’m not so bad in the kitchen either,” Gemma said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. This brought her breasts right under your chin, the nipples still poking the thin nightshirt. “How about you?”

“Oh, I think I could cook you under the table,” you said. “You and Becca both.”

“Oh, it’s so on,” Becca laughed. “We’re doing a cook-off before the end of summer for sure.”

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