Chapter 135: Wash And WearAlexandraErin on March 19, 2013 in Volume 2 Book 5: Nasty Disturbing Uncomfortable Things, Volume 2: Sophomore Effort
In Which Mackenzie Gets Wet Repeatedly
BLUE AUTHOR NEEDS FOOD BADLY — Seriously, She’s Going Grocery Shopping Tomorrow
I would have been eager to get out of the cold and the wet anyway, but the thought of getting into something hot and wet with Amaranth had me so excited that I forgot to set my umbrella spell in place before walking back out into the open.
I didn’t bother to stop and put it back up, since I was already drenched. Instead I just handed my jar of moss to Amaranth for safekeeping and then we made an almost-run for it.
“You know, you could just buy an actual umbrella,” she said with a gentle laugh when we reached the entrance to Gilcrease Tower.
“I’d still have to remember it,” I said. With the overhang just outside the door protecting us from the downpour, I wicked as much water off of me as I could with a little elemental manipulation. Amaranth needed no such attention… her skin just looked a little dewy.
“That was bracing,” she said as we headed inside. Her glasses almost immediately fogged up… I tended to think of them as being a part of her, but they didn’t benefit from her general aura of perfection.
“You can’t spell bracing without brr,” I said.
“Poor baby,” she said. She took her glasses off and produced a piece of cloth that looked suspiciously like a pair of panties to dry them off. “Let’s go upstairs and get you out of those wet things.”
“They’re actually fairly dry now.”
“Oh, do you want to keep them on, then?”
“I thin you should take charge of this now,” she said, producing the jar from the indefinable region into which items disappeared when she put them away. “It’s your homework.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. It might have been nice to have her keep it safe until I needed it, but it would also be easy to forget to retrieve it before class on Monday. Out of sight, out of mind. “Yes, ma’am.”
The lifts in Gilcrease were of dwarven design, which meant they were old and slow. We had it to ourselves when we got on, but other students got on as we went up. Among the advantages of living in one of the big, vertical dorms was that it was easier to find something to do on the weekend without going out, and on a day like this one nobody was going to go outside without a good reason.
“You know, I think we have the suite to ourselves,” Amaranth said when we got back to our room.
“How can you tell?” I asked. It had looked like the lights were out when we went past the door to the adjoining room, but neither that nor the relative silence meant anything. Both of our suitemates could see in the dark, and they could both be comfortable with silence.
“Two’s working, and Dee had plans.”
“Plans that won’t be cancelled by rain?” I asked. This would be Delia Daella’s third semester on the surface, but there were things about the sky that still freaked her out. For instance, its existence.
“Priestess plans, so I don’t think so. Anyway, I don’t think rain bothers her,” Amaranth said. “She actually likes it when there’s solid cloud cover, because it looks… well… solid.”
“And the gallons of water falling out of it doesn’t bother her?”
“She said it was disturbing that so many people treat a miracle like an inconvenience,” Amaranth said. “And for the record, I think she has a point.”
“Well, if she is out, at least we don’t have to worry about her hearing us,” I said.
Not that we could have prevented it… her elven hearing rendered any attempts to be courteously circumspect with our playtime pretty much irrelevant. Still, she’d been sharing a wall with us since the beginning of our freshman year and she’d chosen to share a suite with us this year, so I think she was probably used to it. Even if we’d completely abstained, she’d still be hearing everyone in the other rooms around her.
“I was actually thinking that if they’re out, then we don’t have to worry about monopolizing the bathroom,” Amaranth said, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door and pushing it open.
“Ohhhhhhh,” I said.
“That is… unless you think you’ve had enough water for one day.”
“No, ma’am!” I said quickly.
I put my moss jar on the desk, then went to hang my leather jacket up in one of the taller cubbies in the wall. I turned it around a few times and tried to remove a little more of the water that clung to it.
“Do you want to fuss around with that all night, or fuss around with this?” Amaranth asked. She didn’t need to strike a pose for emphasis. Her natural posture was emphatic enough.
It would be fair to say that I’ve always been… drawn towards girls. I wasn’t in touch with my sexuality enough to recognize a sexual longing behind it, because I’d been raised through my adolescence by a woman who thought the only thing anybody… especially young women and more especially still me… needed to know about sexuality was don’t. If she’d caught me getting in touch with it, she’d have made me wash my hands with holy water afterwards.
Just kidding about that last part… probably.
The point is that I’ve always liked girls, and though I hadn’t had much opportunity to think about what it is I like about them or what I would look for in them if I’d allowed myself to look, Amaranth was perfect in my eyes. All nymphs are an embodiment of perfection, but of course perfection is relative… as proven by her nearsightedness. I chose to believe that one of the men who’d helped seed her field had liked girls with glasses rather than thinking someone’d had a strong preference for a woman who couldn’t see his face.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” Amaranth said, and I realized that I’d been standing there still holding my jacket by the hanger. I’d completely zoned out, staring at her… well, at all of her. That took me back.
Wordlessly, I hung the jacket up. Not all answers have to be spoken, right? I’d already stepped out of my squelchy shoes when we got inside the room, so I undid my belt, slid my jeans down to the floor, and stepped out of them. My legs were bare. I was suddenly very conscious that I hadn’t shaved since just before the semester began, when I’d last had a bathroom to myself. Amaranth wasn’t the sort of person who minded that, but I did. My grandmother’s thoughts on leg shaving had been weird. Girls who started doing it too early than she deemed reasonable were dirty. Girls who didn’t after that point were dirty.
Though to be fair, so were girls who did.
There was basically nothing a girl could do with her legs that would satisfy my grandmother, and hoo boy was that not a good sentence to have go through your brain when you were about to get in the shower with your girlfriend.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Amaranth said, which confused me because I thought it was pretty clear I was taking off my shirt. “It’s bad enough that you leave your clothes on the floor, but wet clothes on our nice carpet? Put all those things in the hamper, and make sure you wash them this weekend.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
Amaranth did act sometimes like I was a total slob for leaving my clothes out after I’d worn them, but it was actually kind of the opposite… once something was in the laundry hamper, it was dirty laundry. It seemed like it would be tacky to fish it out and wear it again at that point. If something was only a little bit worn, within reasonable limits of cleanliness, it just made more sense to leave it out. It’s the same basic principle as anything else: you put things away when you’re done with them.
I didn’t argue the point with her, though. In the first place, she lacked the necessary perspective… I mean, she didn’t even wear clothes, and if she did they would never get dirty anyway. And in this particular case, she did have a point… my jeans were hardly soaked anymore, but they were kind of damp. It was probably not a good idea to leave them sitting around.
“What am I going to do with you?” she asked as I deposited my shirt and jeans in the wicker hamper. I began to remove my socks and undergarments as well.
“What do you want to do with me?” I asked.
“Well, I think I’ll start with washing that smirk off your face,” she said. That would have been a great moment for her to actually drag me to the bathroom, but I was still getting out of my bra, which meant that it was my turn to say something to keep the verbal foreplay going.
So we stood there in awkward silence while I got the rest of the way undressed, and then Amaranth led me into the little bathroom. It was no bigger than a walk-in closet, basically a hallway that connected our room to Dee and Two’s… if it hadn’t been so clean, it probably would have been too small for me to be comfortable with holding sexy times in it. Once we were standing in the tub with the shower curtain closed, it was a little easier to not think about how close we were to the toilet… although that might have had more ot do with how close I was to Amaranth.
She turned the shower on and I immediately regretted having been in such a hurry to get in with her. I yelped and huddled against the back of the tub as for the second time that day a cascade of freezing cold water washed over me.
“Why don’t you just turn on the hot water first and then add a little cold if you need it?” I asked.
“Not all of us are fire-aspected,” she said. “I do like it hot, but I have to be in the right kind of mindset to enjoy scalding.”
That was Amaranth… there were things she didn’t care for at all, but the list was probably small.
“Not that I’d be able to tell, but I don’t think the water actually gets hot enough to be dangerous,” I said.
“It doesn’t have to be dangerous to be unpleasant,” she said, as she edged the temperature upwards. “And it can be fun in small doses. Sometimes when I’m here alone, I like to sit in the tub with just the hot water turned on at a slow trickle, and pretend I’m in a big cooking pot that’s slowing heating up.”
Yes, her interests were truly many and varied. Luckily she didn’t expect me to help her indulge in all of her fascinations, even in fantasy… since I technically preyed on human beings and her body was functionally human for many purposes, there were so many ways that playing out certain scenarios could go very, very wrong.
I didn’t have anything to say to her revelation, so I didn’t say anything. Since I was no longer fighting with my clothes, I had more options for what to do instead, and if they were a little awkward, it had more to do with the cramped quarters and slippery, slightly uneven surface of the tub than with social discomfort.
In terms of living up to picture-perfect expectations, sex in the shower wasn’t quite up there with kissing under the trees in the rain, but even if the gap between intention and reality was a bit wider, the reality was still nothing to sneer at. It ended up being more a kind of warm, wet extended foreplay than anything else, but that was okay because we also had a bed… and between the bathroom and the bed was a plushly carpeted floor, which we also made use of.
Sexually, our relationship hadn’t changed much from our first encounter, except I’d become more aware of what I was doing and more comfortable with it. We had a very specific dynamic. As Amaranth’s toy, it was my role to please her… usually with my hand. Pretty much always, in fact.
Some people might not have counted it as sex-sex… I’d had problems with that myself, once upon a time. Others might wonder what I was getting out of it. There are more ways to get off than just getting off, though. Pleasing Amarant was fulfilling in a way that nothing else could ever be.
That’s not to say that there was nothing else. Amaranth’s reciprocation came in other fashions, in the ways she sometimes enhanced my times with Steff or Ian, or the attentions she paid me in her role as disciplinarian owner… whether it was from years of sexual repression or just an odd natural quirk, I actually had a pretty sensitive trigger. Amaranth could bring me past the point of climax with nothing more than well-timed and well-placed spankings.
There was none of that this night, though was nothing but her… her. Her. On the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed, sprawled across it… her body twisting, her chest heaving, her legs kicking… squeezing spasmodically around my fingers. Even with Dee gone, there was no question that we were overheard… but it was Saturday evening in a dorm room. Wasn’t it better to do it now than in the middle of the night?
They call it a “climax”, but each time I brought her off she gave no sign of peaking so I just kept going. It seemed like a challenge. I was getting sore and tired, but I figured that so must she… I wasn’t about to stop before she did. What kind of toy runs down before its owner is finished?
Eventually, with great effort and long after our pace had slowed from frantic and fevered to langorous and lingering, finish she did.
“Enough!” she said. “Oh, mother, enough and more than enough!”
“Too much?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t missed some signal.
“More than enough, but less than too much,” she said. “Pull your fingers out slowly… slower than that!”
“Sorry,” I said.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “I think I need to just lay here a while and… lay here a while.”
“I have no problem with that.”
“Well, of course you don’t, my toy.”
And that’s the story of how we ended up being late for dinner after all.