Trying To Deny It

"I mean does that really prove anything?" I try vainly, even though I'm not quite sure why anymore.

Rachel may be a judgemental sort in some ways, but I haven't seen evidence of that yet. And even if she is with everything that she's pushed me into and everything that she's tried to get me to do I hardly think that sucking the cock of a cab driver is something she'd really judge me for.

She just might be proud of me instead.

But maybe that was the problem. Maybe I didn't want her to be proud. Maybe I wanted her to judge me because I was judging myself and maybe, just maybe, it was better that way.

Maybe it tied in to the whole humiliation part of it that I couldn't quite wrap my head around.

Entertaining me a moment longer, Rachel waves her free hand in a gesture as if she's contemplating my argument.

"Well lets get through the facts, then," she says, "You didn't take the bus and yet you were down here before us who did. I overheard Eddie mumbling something about you waiting there and watching us go past as we were pulling out of campus-"

"How did you hear him?" I ask, knowing first hand just how quietly Eddie mumbles when he talks to himself.

"Never you mind that," she snaps, clearly defensively, "I know you were waiting and that you got downtown first and that's the point. So the speed eliminates walking or biking and means you got a ride."

"I could have caught a ride with a friend," I interject, but she turns a glare on me that clearly says I don't have a friend other than her who would drop everything to get me downtown on a moment's notice and frankly she's right.

"Hence a cab," she goes on, "And when it comes to cabs the whole payment part of things is a kind of essential part of the equation. So really in the end the question is, how did you pay? And my bet is that my bestie decided to turn tricks to cover the bill."

"I have money, you know," I counter, "Not a lot mind you, but enough to cover cab fare."

More than enough, frankly. I knew that for absolute certain given that I'd seen the exact fare price and I knew how much I had in my wallet and knew that if I hadn't forgotten my wallet at home then I would have covered it and avoided everything that happened.

Avoided giving myself to him. Avoided cumming so hard while I was sucking his cock. Avoided having to swallow every last drop of him and god. Goddamn...

I could still feel him now, could still taste him. I knew that I looked good, looked fine in fact. Neatly done up and presentable.

But I couldn't help but feel like I was dripping with sex. I couldn't help but smell it on my and taste it on my lips and feel it, the dampness of my panties as they cooled after the pooling of my juices when I craved and needed and wanted and had.

Rachel was experienced that, frankly, just a look at me was all it probably took. I must have been so obvious and she must have known and put the pieces together and like she said I had to have taken a cab, it was the only way to beat them down here, and that meant taking a cab and that meant needing to pay.

And given that she didn't have the first clue about the fact that I had no other means at my disposal that means she thinks that I chose to. And frankly the fact that she's not judging me harshly for that means that she's either the best friend a girl could have or just as dirty as I am, or both at the same time.

Or it means something else.

Because when she pulls my wallet out of her bag and dangles it over to me she answers all my questions at once with a smile and a few words, "I think you dropped this in my dorm room yesterday."

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