Relief

The evidence was written all over me and I could tell that now. I mean once I'd finished laughing and snapped off the water that was covering the sound of it I looked up in the mirror and one glance of me made me pretty sure that fat security guard had never gotten lucky in his life because how on earth could he not tell that I'd just be caught in flagrante?

My skin was flush and my hair was a bit of a mess. My eye makeup was running and my lipstick was a little smeared and there was just this kind of potent twitching energy to me. It was a little like I'd been interrupted just before jumping out of the plane while skydiving.

I kept on looking out for when I was going to leap.

Propping my bag up on the sink beside me I shuffled through it, realizing that I hadn't brought anything to touch my makeup up. Frankly, that was a problem, while I'd made it so far without any questions I had this stupid club fair to go to and frankly I was going to run into people who knew me and would recognize the state I was in and have questions, or ask ideas.

I couldn't imagine what Blake would do with the sight of me right now. Actually frankly I could imagine and the thought of it, while encouraging on one level was a little intimidating on another.

I mean I had just blown a guy in an alleyway, but he was a perfect stranger. Blake, not a stranger at all, was my old bully and there was still confusion and a bit of animosity there.

But more than him there was boy-Kim and girl-Kim and Rachel and Eddie and all the rest of the group. No, none of them could see me like this. As much as I was fine with what I'd done, shockingly fine in fact, I still wasn't exactly keen to get a reputation for doing it.

Grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser I pulled off my shirt and stuffed it in my bag. I snapped the water on and got it warm enough it wouldn't shock me while still not being too warm and I wet the paper towels and set about cleaning myself.

Wiping at my face deliberately I focused on cleaning up as best I could and then drying afterwards. I ran my hands through my hair afterwards, trying my best to dampen and style it back into some semblance of normalcy.

Then, pulling my tank top back on and tying it just like before, I swung my backpack over my shoulder and adjusted it, glancing at myself in the mirror.

It was good. Good enough, really. I'd done my best with the makeup and I was a little proud of what I'd managed to accomplish but this was something at least and at least I'd wiped away the freshly fucked look that I had going on and, having rinsed my mouth as well, I was pretty sure that I'd managed to get rid of any lingering smell of his cum as well.

And that was good. Really that was the best that I could hope for.

I looked cute, albeit a little less cute and a little less approachable than I had when I'd walked out of the house this morning and I probably wasn't going to be turning quite as many heads but considering the fact that I still wasn't one hundred percent certain what to do with the heads I did turn now I was pretty sure that would be alright.

Right?

Of course the thing was that I could talk myself into that all along. It was, in actuality, relatively easy to talk myself into agreeing with that.

But when it came to others, to people who had certain ideas of who I was and who I ought to be, there was a very different objective in mind and my whole approach here really ran counter to that.

And as I stepped out of the bathroom and very nearly ran into said individual, I quickly realized from their reaction to the sight of me that I was going to get an object lesson in just how much harder I'd have to work.

As far as they were concerned at least.

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