Yes

You realize not only that you probably can't fight it you certainly don't want to. Emily's lips meet yours tentatively, and you close your eyes as you feel her lips tease your own, gently caressing, then grabbing, then parting. She's an amazing kisser, and you feel those soft lips smile as you move your hand to her waist. Her hands grip your arms gently as you continue.

“If they can afford a place like this, they can afford a new computer,” you hear Sarah shout, still gleefully wandering her room. You both pull apart, startled by the sudden voice and the reminder that you aren't alone. Emily looks at you, her expression suddenly neutral. She clears her throat. “Thanks for the floss, John,” she says, and seemingly because she's at a loss for what to do next, gives you a peck on the cheek. You let her go, a bit stunned yourself, and try to refocus on the task at hand: unpacking. Your luggage is emptied into the closet with surprising speed, and you check the bathroom. As promised there is a full bathroom attached to your room. You unload your toiletries into the cabinet behind the mirror, then wash your face and hands to see if you can shake some of the fog from the trip. Remembering the kiss, you brush your teeth for good measure.

You look for your floss, and remember that Emily has it. You're not surprised to see her door closed, and you hope you don't catch her at an awkward time as you knock on the door. You knock again when you hear no answer, and when there's still no reply, you weigh looking for her downstairs. Deciding it's easier to slip into her room to grab the floss, you push the door open gently. The room is already skillfully unpacked and clean. Had you not seen her walk in, you would have thought she was there for at least a week. There's no sign of Emily in the bedroom, and as you scan the shelves for your floss, you hear a gasp from the bathroom. Your curiosity piqued, you round the corner to find Emily leaning against the bathroom wall. Her eyes are closed and her right hand is under her shirt, massaging her left breast through the bra. Her left hand is working lower, between her legs and against the smooth fabric of her yoga pants. She moans gently as she pulls on her clothed breast, and opens her eyes as her hand seems to find a particularly sensitive spot.

“Shit!” Emily gasps, and her hands instantly find the wall to push her up. “John, what are you doing here?” she asks though you notice that she has the control to remain quiet.

“I thought you were downstairs, and I came in to get my floss,” you tell her, embarrassment overriding your lust for a moment.

“Did you knock?” she asks, her face still flushed. You nod. She seems to take a deep breath and nods. “I didn't hear you. Obviously. I'm going to get your floss and ask you to leave now,” she says, her voice demonstrating the effort of her iron control. You nod, taking the floss.

“I'm sorry,” you tell her, and your voice carries with it some obvious tone of sincerity. Emily nods appreciatively.

“Me, too,” she says. “Can we not mention this to the others,” she asks, her face flushing at the prospect of even asking the question.

“Not a word,” you promise.

“Thanks, John. Um, I'll be downstairs after I change.” She closes the door and you move back to your room. You floss, the awkwardness of the moment forgotten. You picture Emily, though, slumped against the bathroom wall and feel another surge of lust.