Katie

The leather on the steering wheel lets out a creak. Stephanie doesn't realise how tight her grip is; there's no room in her mind to process it. Her thoughts are buzzing with equal parts excitement and anxiety, the thrill of possibility intermingled with outlandish scenarios of everything that could go wrong. She can feel her heartbeat pulsing throughout her body, and there's a tightness in her throat.

Her eyeliner isn't quite symmetrical, but it looks good enough at a distance. She's forgone the lipstick - she hasn't figured out how to make it look natural yet. Her hair is still damp from the shower, her dark brown ringlets leaving little patches of moisture on her shoulders. She's wearing her favourite dress - a cute little red and black floral number that's a bit too short for her frame, and only just barely zips up at the back. It was an easy choice - her other two femme outfits were in the wash. The dress is quite flattering - teaming up with a heavily padded Kmart bra to give an appearance of curves that aren't quite real yet, and showing off a good amount of freshly shaven leg - though it could have used an iron, if she'd had time.

She cranes her neck, waiting for the driveway Google Maps is showing her to emerge around the curve of the highway. She slows down to be safe, but not too much - she doesn't want to annoy the car behind her, of course.

It's an unfamiliar neighbourhood, in a poorer part of town. She wonders if it's problematic that she feels a sense of unease here, the dimly lit concrete so unlike the safety of the tree-lined boulevards of the North Shore. She hopes being 6'2" will help dissuade any unwanted attention, because she sure can't run in these heels.

She pulls into a driveway that she's about 60% sure is the right one, panicking a little that her phone's on 2%. She regrets having had both Maps and a podcast on for the whole trip. She opens HER and sends a picture of the view from the windscreen. 1%.

"This the place?"

She waits for almost a minute, but her phone is less patient. She regrets not having charged it overnight. And not bringing a charger. And this whole thing. What was she thinking? This was a terrible idea. It's cold, it's dark, and she doesn't know where she is. At least the Prius has a somewhat functional GPS, so she'll be able to make it home, but...

A silhouette emerges from a door in the apartment complex. It's a tall, wide silhouette, but the neon hair, fishnets, and impractical boots tell Stephanie it's the person she's after. She doesn't look exactly like her photos, but no one does. Stephanie rolls down the window.

"Hi!"

"Hi."

Stephanie cringes internally at how her voice comes out - a little croaky, a little too loud, a lot too deep - but the reply is deep as well. It's reassuring, in a way.

"Do you have like a parking spot?"

"I have a little garage, there should be room."

An older man walking by shoots the two girls a stone-faced look. Stephanie isn't sure if it's a look of confusion, apathy, or disgust. She assumes the worst.

After an agonising minute of precision reverse parking, the Prius is safely tucked away.

Katie is tall, heavy, and confident. Her bright pink hair is shaved on one side, and her boots have spikes on them. Her fingerless gloves reveal the calluses on her fingertips, and there are chains in all sorts of places. Stephanie might have been intimidated, but there's a touch of softness to her voice and a wryness to her smile that helps put her at ease.

Katie leads Stephanie up too many stairs to her apartment. Steph had been warned about the fruit fly infestation, and the garbage bags everywhere, and the cockroaches. She had said she could handle it, so she has no choice but to look past them.

Katie's room, at least, is pleasantly warm, and doesn't smell as bad as the living area, though there's a hint of tobacco in the air. There's a MIDI keyboard, a rack of bass guitars, beer and Monster cans scattered around, and a mattress in the corner, opposite a small TV screen. Katie fiddles with her phone, and the lighting dulls to a soft pink glow. Something about it feels comforting.

"So what do you wanna watch?"

"What have you got?"

Stephanie tries to come across as nonchalant, putting on her best "normal person" smile, but her whole body is tense, her eyes fixed straight ahead at the screen. She'd never been much for eye contact at the best of times, let alone now. The cursor flicks past some classics - The Smosh Movie, Not Cool, Manos: the Hands of Fate - before settling on Samurai Cop. The crown jewel of Katie's shitty movie folder.

"Oh, I've heard about this one. Sure, let's put it on!"

As Katie puts down the remote and picks up her vape, Stephanie settles in, back straight against the cool surface of the wall, hands in her lap, keeping a respectful distance between the two.

The movie is a masterclass of racism, misogyny, and earnest but incompetent filmmaking - the perfect thing to laugh at together. Stephanie's guard starts to lower, and she finds herself smiling, and cracking jokes about whatever ridiculous thing has just happened on the screen. She's on the other side of town, with no phone battery, in the bedroom of a person she barely knows, but she feels... safe, or at least safer than she expected to. For the first time, the optimistic thoughts outweigh the anxious ones. Her body isn't quite so tense anymore.

During a lull in the action, something surprises her. A hand on her leg. She's tense again, but not out of anxiety like before. It's not an unwelcome feeling. She looks down, and watches the chipped nail polish on Katie's fingers as they gently brush up and down the black and white stripes on Stephanie's thighhigh.

She tries to think of words, but none materialise. She almost feels frozen, but she doesn't want this to stop. She settles for pushing her leg back against Katie's hand. This is good.

A few more minutes into the movie, Katie's touch starts to move a bit higher up Steph's thigh, and further towards the back.

"Is this okay?"

Katie is looking at Stephanie, but Stephanie's eyes are still fixed on the movie. It is okay. She still can't figure out how to say that out loud, but she manages a nod. Katie's hand slides up under Steph's dress and gives her butt a squeeze. "That feels really nice," they both think.

Katie starts to move her other hand towards Stephanie's chest, but stops just short. She looks back up at Steph, eyebrows raised, and receives another nod in lieu of verbal communication or eye contact. Her fingers sink into the padded bra, and while the sensation is heavily dampened, it's a good sensation nonetheless.

Stephanie writhes softly in a gentle haze of euphoria, enjoying having her feminine assets appreciated. Her mind is a gridlock - so full of thoughts and excitement and anxieties and sensations that all processing has ground to a halt, leaving basic instinct to take over. She lets out an involuntary little sound, which shocks her with how effortlessly feminine it is. "God, that was fucking hot," they both think.

Stephanie had, for years, slept in a room next to her parents' during her testosterone-fuelled puberty. In the interests of stealth, she had trained herself - as many unfortunately do - to be extremely quiet while getting off. Now, having heard the kinds of sounds she's capable of making, she has a very strong incentive to undo that conditioning.

Katie attempts to slide her hand up past Steph's hip, but is thwarted by the tightness of the floral dress. Stephanie, snapping back to reality, sits up and pinches the shoulder of the dress.

"Um... do you want me to... get rid of this?"

She smiles sheepishly. Katie nods.

"Yeah."

"Ok! Um."

Stephanie pauses to take a deep breath and steady the shakiness in her limbs. She goes to start unzipping the back of the dress, which, for her, requires twisting both arms backwards, one up and one down, to pull the zipper away from the neckline. She stops, realizing there's a better (and more seductive) way. She turns her back to Katie with a smile.

"Do you want to give me a hand?"

Stephanie congratulates herself on her quick thinking, and Katie very happily goes to pull the zipper down Steph's back. It's a deeply euphoric feeling, to have one's dress unzipped by a lover. Until the zipper gets stuck halfway, and you have to tell them that it's okay, yes, it goes further than that, sorry, it always does this, just put a bit of force into it, it should give way, there we go.

With the zipper unstuck, and her cheeks flushed from embarrassment, arousal, and the slightly cool air, Stephanie awkwardly pulls the dress down and off. Tossing it onto the floor, she's suddenly painfully aware of her body.

She's only been on HRT for five months, so most of her body fat is still clustered around her midsection. She had tried her best to eliminate every hair from her body, but a few pockets of resistance had escaped the razor's influence. Deep purple stretch marks, like tiger stripes, trail down her stomach, evidence of her rapid weight gain in high school, and a constellation of little pimples and red spots mars her waistline.

But the look in Katie's eyes as they scan her body is not one of disgust, or of disappointment, as Stephanie's overactive imagination had feared. It is admiration; joy at the privilege of beholding the body of such a beautiful woman.

To Stephanie's surprise, Katie leans down to kiss her exposed stomach, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. Stephanie blushes, hard, as Katie's hands and mouth begin to wander, leaving gentle kisses and caresses in their wake. She lets out a gasp in response to a kiss on the neck, then again, when a hand works its way into her bra.

One of Katie's hands ends up wandering up past Stephanie's collarbone, and its fingers close - without force - around her throat. Steph's trance ends abruptly. This doesn't feel right. She slowly and deliberately reaches up, picks up the offending hand, and moves it aside. Katie pulls back.

"Oh shit, sorry. Autopilot. I... know a lot of people who are into that. You okay?"

The look on Katie's face is one of genuine concern. Stephanie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. The alarm bells fade. She nods. Then she opens her eyes and smiles softly.

"Yeah. It's okay. I'm okay."

The two pause for a moment, and as they do, they realise the gunfire, explosions, cheesy dialog, and 80s music have left the soundscape, leaving just crickets, an odd humming from somewhere in the building, and the occasional swoosh of a car passing by. Katie gestures to the screen.

"... Should we put on Samurai Cop 2?"

"Yeah, fuck it, why not."

Despite the fact that both Stephanie and Katie are in the room the whole time Samurai Cop 2 is playing, neither one could tell you much about what happens in that movie.

Stephanie tries and fails to take off her bra smoothly, and hangs her head in shame as Katie helps her undo the last hook. As she does so, the bra falls to the floor, and her hands slide around Stephanie's body to grab hold of her newly freed breasts. A shiver shoots down Stephanie's spine, and her breathing becomes heavy and ragged. Katie's fingers alternate between groping Steph's tits and toying with her nipples - which are more sensitive than she remembers.

"These are really nice."

Stephanie isn't sure she agrees - it's early days still, and while she's had some growth, they aren't really a nice shape yet, and she's pretty sure Righty is noticeably bigger than Lefty. But she doesn't say any of this - she's a bit distracted. The best she can manage is the most generic, automated response one can give to a compliment.

"Th-thank you!"

Katie says "you're welcome" in the form of two short squeezes.

"Hey... you said you don't get bottom dysphoria, right?"

Stephanie nods.

"Yeah, it's... ah... it's all fair game down there."

"Cool."

Katie leaves Lefty tragically unattended as she slides her hand down Steph's pockmarked body. As her fingertips reach the edge of the frilled black panties, Stephanie's whole body twitches.

"Sensitive, are we?"

"Yeah, I... guess so."

Katie's fingers trace a line along Steph's waistband, causing her to tense up a couple more times, before hooking into it and smoothly pulling the undergarment down her hip.

"Ah!"

The sensitivity of her skin down there, the sudden feeling of cold air against her wetness, and the knowledge that all of her is now on display combine in a coordinated assault on her mind. Now freed from its confines, her cock falls against her thigh, still connected to the panties by a glistening, sticky thread. Overwhelmed, she leans back, eyes straight up, face stuck in a wavering half-smile, cheeks burning, now fully supine and at Katie's mercy. Some auxiliary part of her brain takes note of a large-winged insect in the corner of the ceiling.

Katie guides the black piece of fabric down and off each of Steph's legs, trying - mostly successfully - to avoid touching anything with the sizeable wet spot, before tossing it aside. She takes a moment to appreciate the sight of the girl in front of her - breathing uneven, eyes wide open but fixed on nothing, a tightly-wound bundle of anticipation. Returning her focus to the spot between her legs, Katie runs a finger, slowly and deliberately, along the side of the twitching member and smiles.

"Damn, you weren't kidding about the size. And it looks like you've made a bit of a mess."

Katie grasps Stephanie's shaft and begins to stroke up and down, with just enough firmness to cause Steph's back to arch. She knows she likes it gentle - they had discussed this online - and she's more than happy to oblige. As she does, her thumb moves up, starting to gently toy with the head, coating itself in the potent natural lubricant leaking from the tip.

Stephanie had never really enjoyed mainstream porn - it's a predatory industry, riddled with racism, misogyny, transphobia, you name it, and besides, it's always so rough and degrading. Where's the foreplay, the softness, the genuine passion? But she's new to this, and she needs something to go off. If she doesn't have a script to follow, how will she know what she's supposed to be doing? She needs to know that she's doing a good job, of course.

Even if you're not an avid consumer, there is a pervasive cultural understanding of "the way that porn is," and the skewed picture it paints of feminine pleasure, and it's that idea that Stephanie taps into, playing up her vocalisations, cursing under her breath in a stage whisper, exaggerating her facial expressions and the movements of her body. Muscle groups tense and relax in sequence, responding to the waves of pleasure Katie's sending up her spine. Her eyes roll back. She makes a sound she can't quite describe, but she's pretty sure it's hot. She bites her lip. Her hand moves up to cup and squeeze her own breast.

She's playing her part perfectly, and her audience of one is clearly enjoying the show. Katie, though, is not one to rest on her laurels, and she leans over to the side of Stephanie's neck, where she begins a meandering trail of kisses downwards, stopping only to brush aside a few errant curls.

She reaches her destination at Stephanie's right breast, her warm breath on the sensitive areola leaving Steph with goosebumps. She shifts her head to ensure a good view of Steph's face, relishing the reactions she's provoking, before her tongue extends and gives a quick, exploratory flick to the little pink bump in front of her. A whole-body spasm and a gasp tell her all she needs to know.

Katie circles Stephanie's nipple deftly with the tip of her tongue, before leaning forward and enveloping it in the soft, warm, wet embrace of her lips. The sensation is blissful enough to push most of the remaining thoughts out of Steph's mind.

"That's... really good."

She's expressed what she needs to, and allows herself to sink back into sweet oblivion, her mind now merely a conduit translating pleasure into sounds and motions. Every lick, flick, and poke of Katie's tongue is a staccato note adding to the crescendo steadily building in her abdomen.

Stephanie and Katie have a common goal now. Katie's motivation is simple: making a pretty girl cum is its own reward, of course. For Stephanie, yes, it would feel good to orgasm, but she's not selfish. She's more than capable of having a good time, whether she gets off or not - especially now that it's more difficult to get there than it used to be - but she wants to reward Katie for her hard work. To show herself at her most vulnerable, losing control of her body, reduced to a stuttering mess. The thought is a little daunting, but she's a guest, after all, and she would hate to disappoint her gracious host.

"Nh. Don't stop."

She tenses her legs, furrows her brow, and curls her toes. She needs to focus now. Her breathing is no longer automatic, her lungs filling only when Katie makes her gasp, and emptying only when she makes her moan.

Katie, ever the helpful teammate, is experimenting with different speeds and pressures, paying close attention to the feedback Stephanie's body is providing. She finds the highest moans when her fingers apply a bit more pressure as they pass the underside of the tip, and the strongest twitches when her mouth applies moderate suction and a slow, constant circling motion with the flat of her tongue.

"Oh fuck-"

Stephanie's back arches, her legs tremble, and before she can issue a warning, she crests the hill. Every muscle in her body struggles against its counterpart, as unadulterated pleasure pulses outwards from her core to every extremity. Her spine alternates, curling forward and back with each wave, and she allows her voice to ring out, an aria in falsetto.

Katie looks on in awe, hand still moving up and down with a steady rhythm. She's given Steph a bit of room so as not to interfere with her throes of ecstasy, as well as to better observe the scene before her. She can't help but marvel at the way the pink light highlights and softens the already-soft curves of the squirming girl in front of her.

After a solid half-minute of freedom from thought, Stephanie is pulled back to reality by a rapidly increasing feeling of overstimulation. She extends an arm, palm outwards.

"Ah, stop!"

Katie stops, though she keeps her hand where it is, enclosing Stephanie's length. She can feel Steph's pulse gradually returning to its usual pace. She leans over, positions her other hand around Stephanie's cheek, and pulls her into a kiss.

Until now, Stephanie had only ever kissed her partner. Those kisses were always soft, passionate, playful, and romantic, and often tasted of strawberry-flavoured lip balm.

Kissing Katie is different. Though Katie is clearly holding back, there's an underlying forcefulness to it that catches Stephanie off-guard. Katie's tongue quickly wins the struggle for dominance, pinning Stephanie's to the floor of her mouth. It's not what she's used to, and it's not unpleasant, but it leaves a bitter tang of tobacco on her tongue.

Katie pulls back. They each open their eyes to discover that they're making direct eye contact for the first time. Neither can speak, stunned by the sight of one another. Katie recovers first, a look of utter sincerity on her face.

"You have really pretty eyes."

Stephanie was blushing before, but now her cheeks are burning red. She turns away, hand covering her face, at a complete loss for how to react.

Her brain attempts to process the compliment, but instead opens the floodgates, and all her insecurities come rushing back in to fill the emptiness in her head, like a flock of ravens descending on her self-esteem, pecking and clawing at every vulnerability.

I'm not pretty. I'm sure I've been acting awkward. I don't know what I'm doing. She's probably just being nice. I lost control there, that must have been so embarrassing. It must have seemed so fake. The foundation probably isn't enough to hide the shadow of my facial hair. My head is tilted down so I must have a double chin right now. I bet I look like a man.

It's a struggle, but she manages, as far as she can tell, to maintain her composure in spite of her inner turmoil. She smiles at Katie. She hopes it looks natural. She takes a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay.

It takes a conscious effort to, one by one, quash the unwelcome thoughts. There's no time for them now, she needs to be able to focus - she has to return the favour, after all.

Of course, Stephanie is well aware that she doesn't have to reciprocate. She understands consent, and knows she has the option to rescind it at any time, and she has no reason to believe Katie would react negatively to a "no thanks."

But her "performance" is important to her, and surely someone who is good in bed would not simply get up and leave after letting their partner do all the work. She would hate to come across as a selfish lover - she was raised with good manners, after all! But most importantly, she really wants to make Katie feel good, and she's unbelievably curious about what it's like to have a cock in her mouth.

While Stephanie has been catching her breath, Katie has settled back into watching the movie, parallel to Stephanie. She takes a long drag from her vape, and exhales a thick cloud of fruit-flavoured fog, with a look of contentment on her face - and maybe a hint of smugness.

Stephanie's eyes work their way down Katie's body, scanning for weaknesses, until they lock onto the button at the top of her shorts. She leans over, and without thinking, pushes the metal disc through its denim hole, takes the pull of the zipper, and moves it down, appreciating the satisfying sound it makes.

She hooks her fingers around the shorts and the plain underwear beneath, indenting Katie's soft flesh, and attempts to pull down, but is met with resistance by the forces of gravity and friction.

"Hold on, lemme just..."

Katie shifts her body, lifting her pelvis and lending an extra hand to the effort. Stephanie slowly and deliberately slides the garments down, her fingers lightly catching on the holes in Katie's fishnets along the way, until they take their places alongside Steph's on the floor.

She takes a moment to admire Katie's cock, standing straight up through a convenient hole in her fishnets. It's not too big, which is a good thing for a first time.

Steph positions herself a little closer. She notices the subtle veins along the sides, the lack of curvature compared to her own, and the shorter, neater foreskin. It is an object of beauty.

She reaches her hand over, brushing her fingertips along Katie's thigh, over Katie's balls, and slowly up the side of Katie's dick. It's hard, but the skin is soft to the touch. She closes her hand around it as gingerly as she can. It gives her a rush of unfamiliar feelings - it's incredibly intimate, exciting, and somehow oddly naughty, and she doesn't quite understand why.

She holds it for a moment, allowing her mind to process the sensations of it. She moves her hand down slowly, pulling the foreskin partway down over the shaft, appreciating how smoothly it glides over the underlying structures. She moves her hand back up. She takes note of the softness of the head beneath her fingertips, and how it pulses gently.

She leans forward. Katie has showered, thank god, and the only smell Stephanie detects is a subtle, umami scent that she recognises. On closer inspection, the way the pink light reflects and refracts through the precum beading at the tip is mesmerising. Stephanie is overwhelmed by the desire to find out what it tastes like.

"Uh..."

Steph is jolted back to reality, suddenly aware again that there's another person in the room. Katie is watching her with a look of mild concern. Her cheeks flush - how long was she zoned out?

"You seem... unsure. Look, there's no pressure, you don't have to do any-"

Stephanie, swept up by an entirely unexpected wave of confidence, plunges Katie's cock into her mouth.

"Oh fffffughhgkk..."

As the precum makes contact with her tongue, she notes its pleasant, savoury-sweet flavour. There's a bit of friction between the head and the roof of her mouth - but Steph would hate to cause any discomfort. She runs her tongue up the underside of Katie's cock before encircling the whole thing, coating it with a layer of saliva. As she does, she tastes another gentle pulse of pre, feeling Katie's slit expand slightly as it deposits another drop on her tongue. What a lovely compliment.

"Holy..."

Stephanie moves her head forward until Katie's cockhead just meets the back of her throat, provoking a mini-gag reflex which Steph powers through, before retreating. It almost slips out of her mouth, but her lips hold it in place as her tongue caresses the tip. She doesn't have to ask if it feels good; Katie is providing very clear feedback, her vocalisations and muscles responding unambiguously to her every action.

As she settles into a repetitive motion, Stephanie's brain informs her that her hands aren't doing anything at the moment, and she ought to change that. She wraps one hand around Katie's leg, fingers sinking into the abundance of soft thigh, while her other hand reaches over, feeling around blindly for a breast to squeeze. Katie, ever the helpful host, wraps her fingers around Steph's and guides her hand to her tit.

Katie can't believe her luck, enjoying the physical sensations as much as she's enjoying the view of Stephanie's head bobbing up and down. A stray curl catches in Steph's mouth, and she absent-mindedly tucks the offending lock behind her ear without missing a beat. It's one of the hottest things Katie has ever seen, for some reason.

Katie starts to reach her arm towards Steph, and her hand nearly reaches the back of her head before she hesitates. She should probably ask first.

She looks at Steph's face - eyes glazed over, mind clearly somewhere else at the moment. It would be such a shame to break her trance. Besides, if Katie did ask to put her hand on Stephanie's head, she'd probably pause awkwardly, think about it for a few seconds, say 'maybe not, if that's okay,' and then feel a little bad about it. Katie resolves to let Steph direct her own experience - which she's doing an excellent job of so far anyway.

A short while of gentle moans and debaucherous sounds later, Stephanie lifts her head and allows Katie's dick to fall out of her mouth. Her hand takes over, maintaining the pumping motion, while Steph catches her breath. Her breathing is heavy and ragged, her heart is pounding, her eyes are watering, and she is suddenly cognisant of all these things. She makes a moment of eye contact with Katie, who has a blissful smile plastered on her face, but instead of being seized by self-consciousness and anxiety like she expected, she feels triumphantly slutty.

Shame is powerful. Shame spreads its roots deep in your mind, and affects every decision you make. Stephanie, for as long as she can remember, has felt a profound shame towards all aspects of her sexuality, and still has a long way to go in dismantling those feelings.

As a child, she pretended she was far above such things. She was polite, educated, and innocent - to think sexual thoughts was below her, something that her rude classmates guffawed about. She didn't want to be anything like them, she thought. It's no surprise that she felt so profoundly ashamed when Mum found the search history on the family computer.

High school was worse. She spent years surrounded by teen boys, showing each other aggressive, humiliating porn on their phones, making disgusting jokes about girls they know, and proving the point in her mind that to be horny, as a heterosexual man, is to be thoroughly disrespectful, if not worse, towards women.

How then could she reconcile that with her deep yearning for not just partnership and intimacy, but sex? The female body is such an object of beauty, but to appreciate it, to desire it, is something that gross dudes do. She wanted to believe she was better than them, but she wanted the same thing as them, so how could she be? The shame made it impossible to even talk to a woman - surely if she showed any interest, anyone could see right through her, identify her as the vile, perverted man she must surely be, so it was better to avoid them entirely, and pretend - especially to herself - that she wanted nothing.

But Stephanie knows now that she is not a vile, perverted man, though getting to that point has been a process. She is starting to understand that it is not only acceptable to want and enjoy sex, but normal as well. And as she continues to jerk Katie off - hair messy, makeup running, a string of saliva running from her chin to her breast, eyes unfocused, sweaty, panting, fuzzy-brained, euphoric - she feels no shame at all. In this moment, she sees the sparkle in Katie's eyes as she drinks in her depravity, and she knows that she has permission - no, explicit encouragement - to desire, to need, to take what she wants, to be who she wants.

God, I bet I look like a mess right now. I bet I look hot as fuck. She must love how much I'm getting into it. I'm such a slut.

Steph is right on all counts.

She shifts her body between Katie's legs, and plunges Katie's cock down her throat as far as it will go. She holds it there for a few seconds, as her tongue darts out to encircle Katie's balls (to great effect, earning a gasp and a moan), before she winces at the feeling in her throat and goes back up for air. She sits up, coughing, tears running down her cheeks.

Katie, concerned, sits up too, and puts her hand on the side of Stephanie's face.

"Hey, that feels fucking amazing but you don't have to push yourself, okay? Look, I'm not gonna cum tonight so don't worry about-"

"But I like making you feel good!"

"I don't want you to make yourself feel bad to make me feel good."

Steph can't fault the logic. She wouldn't want someone to do that for her either. Katie puts her other hand on Stephanie's shoulder.

"What do you want right now?"

Steph ponders. She looks into the distance as she asks herself the same question. There's a big fat bug on the windowsill.

"I think I want to cuddle."

"Okay."

--

Tommy Wiseau fights sexy cyber ninjas on a spaceship, or some bullshit.

"What the fuck is happening?"

"I have no fucking idea."

Katie shrugs a little. Stephanie's arms are around her, and her tits are pressed into her back. The skin contact is providing both of them with some good brain chemicals.

Credits start to roll. The pair see "SAMURAI COP 2: DEADLY VENGEANCE" scroll onto the screen.

"Wait, this is the same movie? How did we get to that?"

"I dunno, I think they just wanted to have hot ninjas."

"Was there even a samurai in this one?"

"There wasn't really a samurai in the first one, he just had a sword."

"Was Tommy Wiseau also a samurai cop? I'm so confused."

"Is it called Samurai Cop 2 because there are two samurai cops in it?"

"I wouldn't be shocked, honestly."

Katie checks her phone.

"Oh hey it's like midnight, when did you have to head off?"

"Oh, probably now actually."

Stephanie extricates herself from the cuddle and starts the hunt for the various articles of clothing scattered near the mattress. Socks? Check. Underwear? Yep. Dress? Might need a bit of help zipping it up, but present.

She goes to check her phone. It's still dead.

Steph stands up, dressed, and picks up her handbag. She feels odd. She's experienced so much in a short amount of time. Her brain has, in the background, begun the monumental task of processing it all, but it's only at 1%, and has been for a while. Katie gets up, still wearing fishnets and nothing else.

"Got everything?"

"I think so."

"Do you want a goodbye kiss?"

"Uhhhhh"

Stephanie doesn't know. All of this has been so new and unfamiliar. Her gut says no, but she doesn't want this to feel like a rejection, so she needs to explain in great detail why. She can feel the telltale brain gurgles coming on. She's about to word vomit.

"I am honestly not sure, like it was fine earlier cause it was in a sexual context and like how are you gonna have sex with someone without kissing right, but now we're like just here as friends and I haven't been in this situation before and I love my partner so much and I don't want to make a mistake or be too romantic or catch feelings, I mean I don't think I'm gonna so maybe it would be okay but I don't want to take the risk and I-"

Katie pulls Stephanie into a hug.

"Drive safe, okay?"

"Okay."

Stephanie takes a deep breath.

"See you 'round!"

She cringes at the quavering in her voice.

"See ya."

--

The Prius manages to emerge from the tiny garage unscathed. She gets out to close the garage door, but it doesn't go down all the way and she can't figure out how to lock it. She hopes it'll be fine.

She starts the car up again and painstakingly punches her home address into the GPS. 40 minutes' drive. Could be worse.

--

She's halfway home. She looks at her lifeless phone screen and wishes she had something to listen to. She turns on the radio, already tuned to ABC Classic. They're playing opera, unfortunately. She clicks around to a few channels. One has an uncannily upbeat pop-ish song which turns out to be about Jesus. Another is broadcasting sports talk. She settles on one that's just playing the selection of music you'd hear in a Coles.

--

She pulls into the cul-de-sac her parents' house is on. She parks in the usual spot by the agapanthus and walks up the driveway and front steps. Everyone else is asleep. She quietly opens the front door, gets to her room, takes off her dress, and thinks "ah, fuck."

Her one good bra is still on the floor at Katie's.