Life Isn't So Simple

I grab at the sheets in ecstasy, my body creaking with the waves of pleasure coursing through me, my mind can't focus, all I do is smell the sweat, feel the tongue hitting all the right points, and see that face between my legs. The face I've yearned for. The face of-

"Scarlet! I've told you three times now! Wake up or you'll be late for school!"

Reality is a cruel mistress.

As you've probably figured out from my Mother's exclamations, my name is Scarlet, but my friends call me Scar, which is why nobody calls me that. I was born with a special power: The incredible ability of fuck all. I'm a boring girl by all real measures, middle-class, white, 18-years-old, final year of School, where I'm a straight-B student. I'm vanilla, unimpressive, I'm plain bread with margarine on it.

And I wish the world would treat me like it.

Alright, let's stop with the figurative foreplay and get to the obvious. I'm gay. Like super gay. It'd be really convenient if I were Bi and I could blend in, but I'm not. Some girls gag for cock, cocks just make me gag. Really, this is one of the two things that is in anyway distinctive about me, and the best part? No one knows. I'm so in the closet Ikea is offering to rehome me. I get bullied as it is, can you imagine if anyone figured out I liked girls? It's like a free pass to shun me and 100 new ideas for nicknames.

I know what you're thinking, if I'm so unremarkable, and no one knows I'm a lesbian, then why the bullying? Well, that's thanks to genetics. My dear old Mum's family has the brightest red hair you've ever seen. No, brighter than that. Brighter. Even Brighter. No, stop you've got too bright. Just kidding, it's brighter than that. Yeah, my hair's so red it looks unnatural, and my wonderful Mother, saint that she is, decided that each of her children would be named for it, my older brother, Jasper, and my twin sister and I, Rouge and Scarlet. As you can imagine, this was enough for a couple of kids to pick up on and I haven't heard the end of it for the last decade and a half.

I should get up, can't have the world thinking I'm dead, and the memory of that face between my thighs means I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

I clamber out of my double bed and yank the nearby chest of drawers, quickly checking the clock on top, 7:40, 50 minutes to shower, dress, eat and get to school. Who am I kidding? I'll eat during attendance. I rifle through my clothes, gathering what I need; socks, polo shirt, bra, knickers, skirt? I did shave my legs last night, and it's still warm, might as well take the excuse. I make my way out of my room, through the already open door, thanks Mum, didn't want privacy or anything, and make my way down the hall to the bathroom, thankfully, it's free.

I put my clothes on a ledge while I nip to the shower and turn it on, then immediately dart out. Thing doesn't warm up very quickly, I'll brush my teeth while I wait. I look in the mirror while I brush, dark green eyes stare back at me, freckles along my cheeks, and fleshy pink lips, even if you couldn't see my hair you'd be able to tell I was ginger, my lily-white skin practically glows in the dark. I put away my toothbrush, and grab a towel out of the cupboard, place it on a hook next to the shower and begin the remove my pyjamas. I never worry too much about my body, guess all my insecurity lies on top of my head, I'm pretty slim, my boobs are fine, 34B if you're bothered, I'm not, lower down is another matter, I keep my pubes clean shaven, not that I'm a fan of the style, but the red hair makes me too anxious to keep anything below the waist.

Can't spend time ogling myself, I jump in the shower and close the door behind me, lather, rinse, repeat, etc, etc, The showerhead is usually my best friend, but sadly we don't have time for any benefits this morning. I rush myself out, dry my body and tie my shoulder-length hair behind me. I throw my uniform on as quickly as physics and the fucking hooks on my bra will allow, and hurry back to my room, throwing the used pyjamas in the washing basket as I go. Time, 8:00, my rushing's paying off, 10 minutes later, my hair is almost dried, or at least warmer, 10 after that I have a face of make up, doesn't look amazing, but time's the factor here. School is 5 minutes away, 5 minutes to get my shoes, jacket, bag, and I'm heading for the door.

"You're running late again?" My Mother yells without even a hint of surprise, let's not pretend this is the first or last time I've ended up cutting it close.

"Gotta give you something to worry about!" I retort, as I make my escape, my powerwalk to school is uneventful, but I make my entrance through the gates just as the bell rings. I don't have time to eat at all in the end, I guess, oh well, more funds for lunch. I walk into my form room for attendance, and I'm not even last, no sweat. I take my seat in the corner and open up my bag, it's only been about a week since Term started, so I need to check what I have first...