Biphobia

Sherie pulled out her fingers and stood, holding them before her eyes, staring at them as if in a trance. They glistened with Christi's heat, left streamers as Sherie pulled them apart, then wordlessly placed them in her mouth and sucked.

"Sherie!" Christi hissed.

"What?" Sherie replied, broken from her spell.

"You just… You just licked my… Stuff off your fingers!"

"Um… Was that wrong?"

"I think that's the hottest thing I've ever seen." Christi whispered, her voice flat as her eyes remained glued to Sherie's fingers. "On the bed!" She snapped under her breath, grabbing Sherie with one arm around her back and the other under her buttocks, guiding her quickly backwards until they fell onto the mattress. She kicked her jeans free and heard them ruffle as they fell to the floor.

"Hush!" Sherie whispered urgently. "You'll wake Rene!"

"I don't care!" Christi replied, her breath coursing through her throat. "I want you right now!" She grabbed Sherie's shoulders, pulled her up the bed, reached under her arched back to slip her halter-top over her shoulders and fling it across the room, began to fumble rapidly with her belt. It came loose, her jeans peeled from her hips and slipped down her legs under Christi's forceful hands.

Christi crept back up the bed, rested herself on one elbow, took Sherie's cheek in her hand and kissed her lips.

"Wait." Sherie hissed, reached up to the switch at the head of the bed to kill the lights. "In case Rene wakes up."

Christi smiled, extended her tongue hungrily, devoured Sherie's lips, sought out the taste of her own sex in her mouth and sucked it up. Her hand slipped away from Sherie's cheek, down her body, across her breast, found Sherie's hand and grabbed it, thrust it between her legs.

Her fingers returned to Sherie's body and sought out the waistband of her panties, slipped underneath, across her sex -- shaved -- she hadn't expected that, but it was a delightful surprise, the smoothness of her hot, puffy, slippery flesh -- and between her moist lips.

Sherie's fingers found their way inside her once more and resumed their stroking as Christi continued her ravenous kiss and sought out Sherie's clit with her fingertips. It was already moist with heat but Christi deftly drew yet more lubricant out of Sherie's sex and coated it completely, circled it expertly in the same way she circled her own clit when she was horny and alone.

Sherie began to moan coarse whispers into her mouth and Christi broke free from the kiss at last, reached under her head and drew it into her neck to stifle the sounds she made. She could feel Sherie's breath blowing against her skin, feel the pace increase, and it drove her wild. Sherie's fingers were working faster at her insides and she followed their rhythm, sped up her pace around Sherie's clit to match it.

It was as much as she could do not to moan out loud. Sherie's fingers had found her soft spot and were teasing it from inside, drawing heat from her body in intermittent drips that ran down Sherie's hand. Sherie was tensing against her in time with her rhythm, thrusting her hips and breathing heavily. Her frantic breaths began to turn to words.

"Yeh… Yeh… Yeh…" She hissed with each breath, and Christi knew that if she kept up her rhythm, her friend was soon going to come. Her own best friend, right in front of her eyes, from her own very fingers, was going to have an orgasm!

Just the thought was so hot that she immediately felt her insides tightening up and a bloom of heat rise in her chest. Oh, God! She kept her fingers moving, increased their pace, felt Sherie's spare hand wriggle through the tangled sheets to grip her wrist like a vice. Sherie's breaths became tense and stretched and every muscle in her body went rigid.

Even the fingers inside Christi's body stopped moving, but Christi was so close that she couldn't stop; she thrust her hips against Sherie's rigid fingers, each thrust driving her closer to the edge, determined to reach it before Sherie's orgasm was over. It took her all of a sudden, an explosion between her legs that swept up her spine. She shuddered, her breath oscillating in her throat as she fought to keep from making too much noise.

The vice-like grip at her wrist slackened, and Sherie's breaths returned.

"Um… Wow!" Sherie sighed, as the last of Christi's orgasm subsided.

"Yeah…" She replied, in a long, shaky breath. "Um… Yeah…"

"We should…" Sherie began, but Christi cut her off with a hiss as she heard a movement.

"Rene!" She whispered almost silently into Sherie's ear. The room was so dark that it was almost black, but even if Rene could see nothing she could still have heard their frantic breathing, or smelt their sweat and their heat. "Don't move!"

Light footsteps padded around the bed, a dark shadow passed in front of the bathroom door, which closed with a clunk and then emitted a yellow light around its frame. The hum and rattle of the extractor fan began to compete with the silence in the room.

"Quick!" Christi whispered. "Let's get under the covers, pretend we're asleep."

They moved quickly, standing from the bed, lifting the sheets and diving under them.

"Amazing how I can go from so hot to so cold!" Sherie whispered, shivering slightly under the cool sheets.

"Yeah, I totally didn't notice how chilly it was in here! It must be like gone four AM now anyways. I think I've sobered up. I'm so tired."

"Me too. Damn cold, though. Hold me?"

Christi couldn't help a smile wash over her face. She shuffled closer to Sherie, wrapped her in her arms, planted a kiss on her shoulder as they embraced, then froze with embarrassment. Was that the right thing to do? It had been instinctive, automatic; it had felt like the right thing to do, but was it? Would Sherie just want to forget their intimacy now that it was over? She smiled again when she felt Sherie's lips touch her shoulder softly in response, felt a tiny flick of her tongue against her skin.

"That's really nice." Sherie said.

"What is?"

"Having you hold me. You're warm."

"Aww, you're warm too. Let's cuddle until we fall asleep."

"Yeah."

They shifted under the covers, adjusted their bodies until they were lying comfortably, arms and legs interlocked. Christi reached for the top sheet and pulled it up over Sherie's neck, tucked it in against the cold morning air.

"Hush!" She whispered, as the bathroom light clicked off. She listened intently as Rene's soft footsteps padded around the room to the empty bed, where Christi should have been sleeping alone. She heard the ruffling of buttons, the snap of elastic and the click of a bra clasp, the zip of a zipper and the soft sounds of clothes landing on the floor.

"Christi!" Came a harsh, quiet whisper. She froze solid, gripped Sherie's body in her rigid hands. "Christi, are you asleep? Can I get in with you? I'm cold!" There was a long, silent pause. "Christi!"

She heard soft pads and shuffles, imagined Rene was pressing on the bed to see if it was occupied. "Alright, if you're awake, I'm getting in. Don't freak out."

There was a cracking of joints and a slithering of cotton against skin as Rene slipped into the bed, then a pregnant delay, during which Christi wondered if Rene was looking around the darkness in confusion when she discovered the bed was empty. Would she work it out? Or would she think that her friends had fallen asleep elsewhere in the darkness? Would she turn the lights on to find out?

No. There was another shuffle, a long, drawn-out sigh, and, in short order, some quiet snores.

Delicately Christi squeezed Sherie's arm, expecting a squeeze in reply, but felt none. She listened harder, heard Sherie's deep, rhythmical breaths, and knew that she was asleep, or pretending to be.

Sherie's warmth enveloped her and nurtured her even though she slept. It felt so good just to hold someone and be held by them. It had been an unexpected but beautiful experience, and now that it was over, she was glad to be in Sherie's arms as the rosy afterglow of her powerful orgasm echoed inside her. She was tired, but her drunkenness was gone, and she had no headache. Maybe she'd have one in the morning, but right now, all she had was warmth, closeness, and happiness.

She placed another kiss on Sherie's shoulder, wondered if she'd feel it in her slumber, and gradually she fell sound asleep.

* * *

So she'd had a lesbian encounter with Sherie. That was her wonderful memory. Just a shame about this damned hangover! Surely she hadn't been that drunk?

She tried her eyes again. They were blurred, but after a few blinks they cleared enough for her to make out the room beyond. It wasn't her hotel room.

There wasn't much light to see by. The ceiling was painted with a dull white paint that had faded and bubbled with damp, and flaked away in huge patches like concrete eczema. Mildew grew in black spots, and there was a pervasive smell of mould from all around. Dirty light came from a row of squat windows glazed with frosted security glass high up around the cracked walls. They were caked with what looked like a decade's worth of dust and grime, bordered with mildew.

Christi's neck was stiff as a tree trunk, but she was able to pull herself up with care. Her back cracked and eased as she twisted on her hard bed, and her head span nauseatingly. She looked around as quickly as she dared, saw that she had been lying on a hard wooden bench that ran around three sides of the room. There were clothes pegs on the walls and broken lockers on the far side of the room. A door-less lintel led into what looked like a shower room, with ribbed tiles thick with mould on the floor and old stained showerheads hanging from porcelain-tiled walls. There was only one exit, a doorway barred by a wooden door painted in cracked pastel blue paint, with a small security-glass window set at head height.

Where the hell was she?

There must have been something after falling asleep in Sherie's arms, but she couldn't remember it. She longed for those arms now, to be curled up under warm sheets, listening to Sherie's peaceful breaths, feeling the air from her lungs tickling across her chest, feeling her heartbeat. She had woken up next to Sherie, hadn't she..?

* * *

Morning came like a fog lifting from a damp hillside. Christi felt enveloped by Sherie's warmth and moistened by her skin, sweaty where they had laid together despite the cold night. Light streamed in through slatted blinds and dissected the room into bright and dark slivers. She squinted, shifted herself down under the blanket to shield her eyes from the harsh light.

Her head hurt, but not as much as she thought it should. Perhaps staying awake so late had helped her to sober up before sleep came to turn drunken giddiness into nauseous pain. Perhaps her energetic coupling with Sherie had helped burn off some alcohol before she slept.

She recalled the moment as she lay still, replaying it as if it were a chance encounter with a new boyfriend. It had all the same hallmarks. It was unexpected, sudden, passionate, and as she replayed it in her head it made her feel happy and excited about what might happen next. She recalled the look on Sherie's face as she had succumbed to her precise massaging of her clit, and the memory tickled her inside, not just deep within her hips but in her heart, too. Her best friend was still her best friend, but now she was something more.

There was a movement underneath her, and she felt Sherie's eyelashes bat against her shoulder as her eyes opened. A muffled squeak came from her mouth, buried somewhere beneath the covers.

"Hey." Christi whispered, rolling away slightly to allow Sherie to lift her head. "Good morning." She continued, her voice lazy yet bright.

"Um… Morning." Sherie said quietly. It was unlike her to be quiet or lost for words. Was there a chance that she was embarrassed? Could that be a problem?

"You OK?" Christi asked.

"Yeah. Bit groggy."

"We were up late last night."

Sherie giggled. "Yeah."

"You, um…" Christi began, but wasn't sure how to phrase what she really wanted to say. "You… Um, you up for Round Two?"

"What?" Sherie said, her face creasing into a blushing grin. "Bit early in the morning, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well… I just woke up next to you, and… Well, I want to. That is, like, if you do."

"Um… God! Um, well, I hadn't thought about that, but… Well… I guess it'd be alright, wouldn't it? I mean…" Sherie's playful voice trailed off. "I mean, it was OK last night, so… No, wait, I didn't mean that, I meant, it was OK to do it last night, so I don't see why it's not OK to do it… Well, now, if you want?"

"Yeah?" Christi moved her hand, stroked it delicately over Sherie's shoulders, over her smooth skin and down her back, dragged her nails lightly over her buttocks.

"Yeah."

"You want to?" Christi asked, and she felt her heart dance in her chest as she watched Sherie's shy smile moving around her rosy cheeks.

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"I don't know. Wait, let me…" Christi raised her head from the bed, looked at the cabinet for her watch. An empty bed opposite caught her eye. "Shit!"

"What?"

"Rene's gone!"

"What?"

"She's not there! The bed's empty! It's been slept in, but she's not in it!"

"Shit! She must have seen us!"

"Um… Yeah, she'd have seen us when she got up."

"Oh, fuck! Fuck!"

"It's alright, calm down."

"Fuck!" Sherie shouted, pushing Christi away and jumping out of the bed. She stood naked for a moment before she lashed out, grabbed a pillow and clasped it to her chest. "Fuck!"

"It's alright!"

"No, it's not alright! Rene saw us lying together, naked… I mean, we were all, like… Close, and everything!" Sherie turned from the bed, found her clothes lying crumpled where they had landed on the floor and pulled them on quickly.

"Sherie! It's alright, she'll understand! I mean, she kissed a girl before, it's not like she'll hate you or anything!"

"Yeah, but… She saw us, Christi! She saw us lying naked together! She must have known what we'd done last night! She must have guessed what we got up to while she was asleep! Fuck, now she'll be thinking about it every time she looks at us. How could we have been so stupid?"

"Look, she's gone now. She must have gone to Danika's room to get her things. Just calm down, relax, don't let it bother you." Christi soothed. "Just pretend it never happened, she won't say anything." Sherie didn't reply, but retired to the little armchair, perched herself on its edge and hugged the pillow to her chest. "Haven't you ever had anyone catch you in the act before?"

"Well, yeah, but not with another girl! Don't you know what this means? She'll think we're… Dykes!"

"No she won't!" Christi snapped. "We just slept together once, is all. We'd never even thought of it before tonight. We've both had boyfriends, we were all eyeing up guys in the club and talking about guys just last night…"

"I stuck my fingers in your cunt, Christi!" Sherie's words hit Christi like a slap to the face. "You frigged my clit! I was prepared to keep it a little secret and not tell anyone but now she knows, and she'll tell Danika, and Danika will tell everyone, and then everyone at home will be pointing at us and calling us dykes and laughing behind our backs."

"No, they won't!" Christi spat back. Sherie's words still stung, not just across her pride where they had landed but deep in her heart, too. She felt angry tears threaten to overwhelm the tears of humiliation that she'd been stubbornly holding back since she saw Rene's empty bed, but she was too proud to let them flow. She blinked several times to clear her eyes. "Rene won't tell Danika, and even if she does, Danika won't tell anyone. She's…" Christi began, but stopped herself. Should she tell? She had been sworn to secrecy, and she had never broken her oath, but things were different now. She and Sherie may not be totally lesbian like Danika was, but what they had shared… Didn't that at least make them, well, part lesbian?

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She looked away from Sherie's shrunken, pillow-hugging body, focussed her eyes upon the door.

"Chris? Sherie?" Rene's little voice sounded muffled through the door. "Wake up, please! Something's happened! Danika's been attacked!"

* * *

Christi was naked, she realised for the first time. She had been so lost in her warm memories and heated by apprehension that she had barely noticed the cold, but as she stood and paced across the old changing room she began to shiver. Where was everybody? How had she ended up here?

She tried the old wooden door, but it was locked. She wiped a thick layer of dust from the frosted window and squinted through, but the corridor beyond was in near-total darkness. Only a few square spots of natural light, a long way away through the blurred glass, indicated possible distant windows. She considered calling for help, but she was naked, and didn't want to be seen. Perhaps there was a logical explanation for everything. Perhaps she would find her clothes.

Her belly itched, and she scratched it, pulled her fingers away tinged with red. Her heart leapt into her mouth as the sight of blood sent her senses racing; her chest froze, her breath stopped and her giddy head span still faster. But it wasn't blood. It was red and sticky, but not blood. It was vivid red lip gloss. She bent over, turned to the light from the windows, inspected her belly. There were a few splodges of lipstick here and there, and a reddish tinge to her pale skin as if more lip gloss had been wiped away with a cloth. What the hell..?

A sense of trepidation crept up her throat, causing her breaths to tighten. She took a few deep lungfuls, which cleared her head for a moment but then made her head spin; being scared wasn't getting her anywhere. There was a logical explanation for all this, but logical as it may be, she was no longer sure that it was benign. Danika had been attacked. She remembered that much. She remembered Rene coming to tell her.

What had happened after that?

* * *

Danika's face was as white as a sheet of paper. She still wore her Goth makeup from the night out, which gave her a ghoulish, half-dead look, but her eyeshadow had run down her cheeks where she had been crying and her lipstick was smudged where she had dried her face again and again on the tissues that lay discarded on the table and in the waste bin and scattered around it on the floor.

"How long have you been here, Dani?" Christi asked emptily as she sat down next to her friend and tried to take her hand. Danika withdrew it, held it against her chest.

"About an hour." She croaked. She reached out to the tabletop, clumsily fetched an almost-empty pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, accidentally bent it in her shaking hands while lifting it to her mouth, and lit it with a disposable lighter. The ashtray held half a dozen dog-ends, and the room stank of tobacco smoke. Danika was supposed to have given up two months ago, but Christi said nothing. A few cigarettes wouldn't kill her as fast as a mugger could. It was just as well she'd let the thief take her bag and not put up a fight.

"She spent the night outside, crying." Rene continued. "She couldn't get back in. He took her bag, which had all her money and her cellphone and her hotel key."

"Dani, why didn't you come to us?" Christi said. "We were in our room, you should have knocked on our window, or something! Did he hurt you?"

Danika shook her head slowly, staring at the tabletop.