Let it happen

The sound of running water ceased.

Rania bit the inside of my thigh. I jerked, cried out. My nervous system was telling me to complain, but my head was telling me it was a wonderful thing. “Oh,” I whined as she pulled my underwear down. I lifted my leg to make it easier for her to remove them. Before I got my foot through, her fingers were inside me, fuck, oh my God, she’s so good at-- her fingers were inside me, and then her tongue was on my clit. “Oh my God,” I moaned. When had I learned her name? I couldn’t remember. Had she whispered it in my ear when we were grinding against each other?

The light went out in the bathroom down the hall. Footsteps followed. He was coming closer, the owner of this apartment. I suddenly remembered the taste of him on my tongue. While I’d taken his cock deep down my throat, Rania’s tongue had danced over his balls. And her fingers had…

“Fuck, you’re so good at that,” I said. She was stealing my breath. Take it all, I don’t care, I’d do anything to have you do this to me forever. You feel so good. I would marry you, if you’d marry me. We could be-- Her hand pressed down on my pelvis. Oh, she really did know what she was doing. My back spasmed.

No, this wasn’t Luke’s apartment. I had the shape of this place in my head. It was palatial, truly, in the sense that it was like a palace. Were we even in the city, still? Someone else, someone else. Who had whisked us away? I’d be embarrassed when he came in and I couldn’t remember his name. Though, it seemed unlikely he’d complain, with two women fucking in his bed. Got the party started without you, I would say between faltering breaths. Be the fuck toy for him. That’s why he brought you both here. To tell the truth, I didn’t care if he joined, so long as he didn’t throw Rania out of bed while she was still bent over my pussy. She made love to me through her mouth. I screamed. Yelped. “Fucking Lord, oh my fucking God,” I said. It was outrageous that she could do this to me. I felt like a sixteen year old girl whose best friend was eating her out in her parents’ basement for the first time. Alicia hadn’t been half as good, even when I didn’t have a frame of reference to compare her to.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” I said.

“Fank you,” Rania said, muffled, pleased with herself. And slipped another finger inside.

“Oh, no,” I whined. She slipped the finger out again; “I didn’t say stop,” I gasped.

The door cracked open.

It was day again. I was sitting on the bench in a bus station with my head in my hands. Vaguely, as I came back to myself, I realized that my hair was tied up using my underwear. Thank you, Rania. The headache was the worst I’d ever felt. Once, when my naive friend got us all acid for a bachelorette party, I later figured out it had been laced with something. That comedown couldn’t hold a candle to this. The feeling between my ears reminded me of the opening line to Neuromancer: “the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.” I was now a dead channel.