Sara thinks.

Meanwhile, Sara was throwing away the tissue she used to clean off her legs into a trash bin in the kitchen. She could hear the door to the bathroom close in the distance.

When she was sure Josh was out of range, she hastily pulled out her phone again. In her inbox awaited a message from her friend Kaylee. She opened it and blushed.

"So? u nailed him yet? ;-)"

Flustered, Sarah typed back (while self-consciously looking over her shoulder),

"Stop it Kaylee Im serious. Its probably just him feeling more comfortable in less clothes. And he's in the shower rn."

But was it? Sara looked at the trash bin, but was really looking at flashbacks of the old memory kind flickering through her brain. After all, he was the one who demanded an end to the slightly more than obvious ways she'd sneak looks at him around the apartment, and his arms, and sometimes his chest when he was wearing a tight enough shirt, mmm--aw damn it, girls, down, down!

Calming herself down, Sara took a breath, and focused. In any case, even though they were friends and arguably grew even closer over the past nearly 11 months they've holed up together, he had never seemed comfortable enough to just walk in his boxers around her. What if he really was making some statement? Some innately sexual statement of some inconceivable kind?

Like an invitation?

Like a... sex invitation?

An invitation... to fuck?

Dammit, Sara bit her tongue, Sara, Kaylee and her perverted self is totally rubbing off on you. Don't start getting ideas in your head, girl! You're no sexual assaulter!

Her phone vibrated and brought her head downward to look at another floating text box.

"then hes a pusstease then. I say jump into the shower with him and make him stick that meaty rod into ya, and just ride it lik the waves girl!"

Sara typed back,

"Kaylee! You are so dirty-minded!"

A second later, another beep.

"Come on Sar its not dirtyminded it's natural. u know. Girls will be girls"

About to shoot another text at her friend, another bubble popped up halfway and her eyes scanned it.

"lemme guess, ure worried you'll only last 1/2 o' 60? ;p"

Okay, this was not helping. Sara just tucked her phone away and sighed.

Maybe her slightly misandrist friend was a little right though. (Which wasn't saying much.) Sara squirmed. What if Josh was just flaunting himself in front of her, to get her pussy dripping wet, her nipples to poke out like bullets out of her shirt?

Yeah. Yeah, he'd like that, wouldn't he? He'd like to see her nipples.

Mmm, dammit. She scolded herself. She was doing it again.

"Boys," she sighed dreamily in partial resignation. Then murmured, "Why are they so... complicated?" She shook her head. But that's also why you had to love them. Being near a boy, and watching him move, and getting a whiff of his scent, and catching glimpses at his perfect skin underneath his clothes -- you realized they were god's gift to women.

And why did they have to have such high standards anyway? Everybody had sex. As far as she could tell, she was a pretty specimen of a woman -- an 8 at least. Or 7.5. Or 7, whatever!

Sara plopped into the sofa in a barely distinct pout. One reason was probably that they always expected the woman to do everything for them -- sure, they were biologically stronger and hardier and by nature were pretty independent enough to handle their selves. But that didn't matter; if you accidentally bump into one in the middle of the street, prepare to get a shitton of crap for not being a 'lady' to that poor poor 'gentleman'. Meanwhile, they'd practically have to shove a woman onto a street storm drain and kick mud into her face before someone feels any sense to help. Sheesh, what was this entitled world coming to.

Of course, a previous boyfriend used to always remind her that 'looks weren't supposed to be everything' back at her face. But that was as sincere as the Bermuda triangle and hypocritical as a two-way catfish. Sure, girls tended to be quick to jump on any guy with some skin showing and a performing figure. But she'd seen guys fall heads over heels for pretty women before, too. They only used that because even if a woman was objectively beautiful, they weren't beautiful enough. They had to be 10-11s all across the board. Meanwhile, it felt like the world was filled to the brim with cute guys everywhere and every one was either taken, or out of Sara's league.

Case in point: her hunk of a roommate, Josh effing West.

She had condoms too! Honestly she did! She wasn't that bent on ruining a guy's life.

Sighing again, Sara drew her brain out of her mindless reverie and sat up.

But anyways, that was a different rant for another day.

This was also why she, Kaylee, and another friend would be going to the plaza, anyway -- to check out all the hot guys, because when they came out, ooh did they come out. It was especially fun to idle by the games or sports stores...

Sara gave one final exhalation. No, no dirty thinking! This was going to be a normal day. A normal girl's day out!

But seriously, Sara thought as quietly as she could, a world where one unquestionable reason of a guy's existence was to get a girl wet and her nipples hard... that would be so hot. Imagine, guys walking around, casually flashing their abs at me, some innocent girl walking past like no big deal.. or masturbating in the park and letting me watch, mmh...

Ugh, it was one of her more twisted depravities, but she really did have a thing for guys and them masturbating. It was just one of the hottest, perverted, yes, but also more incredibly titillating images to fantasize, and as a virgin such as her even moreso: the notion that a guy could embroil himself in such lust that he couldn't control it and start stroking his precious, huge, throbbing dick, thinking dirty thoughts to himself, and just had to jerk himself off to release, sweat glistening across his hard, firm muscles as he came.

Yeah, that's right. Guys could be perverts too.

In spite of herself, Sara was already getting herself a little horny. Maybe more than a little. And all just 'cause she got to see a guy's underwear.

Talk about pathetic.

But hey, for conscience's sake at least she wasn't Kaylee. When she was in high school the girl used to sniff mens' underwear in the mall and, Sara and company would kid you not, she once had an 'accident' right there in between the racks, no matter how much she tried to deny it or that... moan.. whatever that was. Yeah. If she was dirty now, she was filthy then. Even if she epitomized pretty much the **** of a lot of girls' perversions: that quiet attraction to the flinger, the sausage, a guy's mother jewels and the flimsy garments that covered it.

It was as dirty as you could go. But there was just something about the dick that was so... intoxicating. Alluring.

Hard to get.

Yeah, that's probably what it was.

Stretching one arm around the top of the couch, Sara exhaled and searched for the remote. When she found it, she raised the volume of the TV, her hand accidentally brushing and pressing against another object. She looked down. Josh's phone was still on the table. Huh. Guess he left it behind.

The screen lit up, displaying what looked like lines of text spread out across it. Sara, however, already had her attention fixed back on the TV, cracking up at some stellar comic delivery on-air. Sarah Silverman's routine about constantly getting seduced by fans was an oldie but a hilarious one.