Across the Alleyway

Disclaimer:

All characters are above 18, though not all ages are explicitly stated in the story. Not betaed. All mistakes are mine.

"Please, please, please don't be mad at me," Carla said in a pleading tone. She usually doesn't apologize. Whenever I caught her in the middle of something I told her not to do, she would throw a sheepish smile my way and carry on.

Forgot to throw the trash for the second week in a row? Smile.

Finished the milk in the fridge without adding it to the grocery list? Smile.

Woke me up at 2 AM to proofread her paper because she was failing the class. Yep, that same damn smile.

I learned early on not to expect apologies from her. I figured hearing her say sorry over and over would be worse, especially if she'd do it again. I learned to appreciate the lesser evil. And so far? Things had been fairly smooth.

"Remember the trip to Mexico?" she hedged.

"Yes." I had been saving for this trip for months. Sure, it was only 3 days in Mexico City, but I planned on gorging myself with food and music.

"The one for this weekend?"

"Yes," I said again, goading her to finish her thought.

"I can't make it." She looked straight into my eyes and I could tell it took a lot out of her to say.

I had been talking about all the things I wanted to try and experience for a while. But no matter how shitty she felt, I felt worse. This was supposed to be my first trip outside of the country.

I switched shifts. Sucked up to difficult managers and even more sufferable customers. I took overtime back to back to save up for this trip. But I had never been one to twist the knife.

"It's fine. I could go by myself." My mind ran through all the adjustments I needed to do to make it work. I'd need to dip into my savings to make up her half, get an Uber to the airport, and figure out how to talk to the locals if English doesn't pan out. While Carla was white as they'd come, she spoke excellent Spanish.

"No! No, you don't have to do that. We can still go together, I was thinking maybe move it to three months from now? You'd have more time to save up money, maybe we could make it a five-day trip?"

"But I already filed for my days off this weekend."

Carla grabbed my hands, "you could still take the break! You work too hard. Just file again next time. You never call in sick, I doubt Deb will say no, especially if you work this weekend. She likes you too much. Not unless you really want to go now?"

"Why so last minute? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Even if I could get the days off, I didn't know if I could rebook my flight.

"James has a gig up north and needs me to come with. The deal was only finalized last night and it was very short notice. But it's big, we're talking late notice fees, comped trip, and everything. They'd be paying me too, so I could cover your rebooking fees.

Please say yes, I want to go with you! You can't speak Spanish. Do you plan to no sabo no sabo your way to the best places?"

"I have Google Translate," I muttered under my breath. She gave me a pointed look.

"You'll pay?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes! Just send me the screenshots and I'll cover the ticket difference and any other additional fees. Well, within reason, of course."

"You'll definitely be free?"

"Eve, yes. I talked to James. It doesn't matter if the next gig pays 10 times my hourly rate, I'm with you. If this shit happens again then James will pay for everything--I will pay for everything."

I weighed the options and figured that I did need the extra money if I wanted to bring back souvenirs. And five days would definitely be better than three.

Carla looked at me like she already knew what my answer was going to be. She gave me a teasing smile.

"Okay. Fine. In three months."

Carla swooped and gave me a big hug, her blonde curls smothered my face.

"Thank you! Thank you! I promise you won't regret it."

Later that night, Carla left with James and I had the apartment all to myself. I stopped closing the doors around the apartment. I played music in the living room and turned on the TV. There was no need to keep quiet or stay small. I was going to take up all the space I wanted, I needed.

I can't remember the last time I had the whole place to myself.

I crawled under my fresh sheets and pulled up a book I usually read under my covers. While Carla and I had our own bedrooms, she wasn't very good at maintaining boundaries. Sometimes she'd just open the door and talk about her day. If I was doing anything remotely dirty, I'd never hear the end of it.

I read a couple of chapters, completely absorbed in the MC's torrid love life. Every explicit description mentally brought me to the edge. Every phantom kiss and touch glided over my skin. I felt more than I should, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

The back of my hand ran over the sides of my breasts. Then, in another pass, my thumb passed over my nipples. I circled around the sensitive area before rubbing the top of my nipples with the pad of my finger. I moved my hand downwards.

Every part of my skin that my hand touched prickled in anticipation. When I reached my clit, I was more than ready. I tried to keep the pace nice and slow, to match the book. But I couldn't do it. I chucked the book aside and focused on what I wanted. I kept one hand on my breast, while the other kept going on my clit. Pleasure kept building in my lower belly, but something felt missing.

I lightly touched my inner thighs and then moved towards my sex. I was wet. I gathered a bit of the liquid on my fingers and spread it around the area. I inserted my middle finger inside and let out a deep breath.

I never had a place to myself before. So anytime I masturbated I had to swallow my moans and screams. But I didn't have to do that anymore.

The sounds didn't come out immediately. It took a while for my brain to accept that it was okay. That I could moan. That I could be loud. But when I curled my fingers and hit my G-spot, I knew it wouldn't take long.

I thrust my fingers in and out of my sex and continued to rub my clit. Every couple of beats I hit my G-spot and put pressure on the area. There was a rush of heat that sent pulses of pleasure down my spine and to my toes. I could hear my heavy breathing, my moans, and groans. They all piled on top of each other until I came toppling down.

My sopping pussy let out a gush of arousal all over my fingers and my orgasm moved through me in waves. I removed my hands from under the covers and looked at the arousal that glistened on my fingers under the soft downlights. I passed the liquid from one hand to another, then spread it across my nipples.

My nipples were raw from the rubbing and twisting. They were an angry shade of pink I used the pad of my finger to rub along the slit of my nipple and I was ready for round two.

I wasted no time and spared no effort. I was wound up tight and wanted nothing but release. I rubbed my clit and rocked my sex against my hand, dry humping the air. I was desperate to feel someone's body against mine--someone whose weight I could use to build friction where I needed it the most. But just because I was alone didn't mean I didn't deserve multiple orgasms. I thrust my fingers deep into my sex and massaged my G-spot again, while my other hand took care of my clit.

Sweat beaded along my hairline and trailed down my face, while I worked myself towards my orgasm. When I finished, I let out a groan and lay limp across my formerly fresh sheets. I needed to change them again or else find evidence of this night during the most unexpected times. However, that was tomorrow's problem. I hugged one of my pillows and slept naked.

Is it possible to do the walk of shame in your own home? Because that's what the next morning was like. Since I decided to go straight to bed, I had to deal with everything the next day.

Even though Carla and James wouldn't be back until next week, I stripped the bed and started a load of laundry. I spent so much time getting ahead of my chores, that I wasn't going to let one night of fun ruin my streak. Then I stepped into the shower.

While I washed the evidence of last night's festivities from my pussy and thighs, I had to remind myself that I was grown and this was natural. I was a little embarrassed, but surely, thousands of women were doing the exact same thing. I'm hardly inventing the wheel.

My initial embarrassment didn't last long. I was opening for the coffee shop, and I was running late as it was. Doing the laundry really messed with my timeline. In my rush to prep for work, I forgot to bring my towel to the bathroom. I left our shared bathroom and walked back to my room naked. I roughly dried myself and put on my panties, but left off the bra. My hair was still damp, I didn't want the straps to get wet.

I put up my mid-length brown hair in a claw clip and started on breakfast. Walking around without a towel was cold. I felt my nipples stiffen as the air hit it. But I was in a time crunch so I ignored it the best I could while making breakfast.

I quickly assembled the random groceries I had in the fridge into a passable breakfast. I fried an egg, put some bread in the toaster, and added some mixed berries with a spoonful of yoghurt. It was simple, filling, and took five minutes to make. When I finished eating, I got dressed and left for work.

Working a service job had its ups and downs. Ever since I got the job at the cafe, I stayed well-fed and well-caffeinated, but that didn't offset the crazy customer interactions I had to deal with on the regular. I mentally prepared myself for the worst. But surprisingly, the day wasn't so bad.

Maybe it was because I knew I had an empty apartment waiting for me or because I had a decent orgasm the night before. I felt relaxed and energized at the same time. It was such a good day, I even stopped by the grocery store on the way home.

I usually settle for frozen dinners and take-out, but I thought I could cook some of those ten-minute meals. I picked up all the ingredients I needed to make nachos and lugged the bags back to the apartment. I settled them on top of the kitchen table and quickly stripped my outer clothes. The brisk walk was a little too much cardio for me, and I felt gross.

Normally, I would change into casual clothes, sans bra, and then shower before bed. But I didn't want to dirty a set of clothes, only to change soon after. So I took everything but my panties off, and chucked everything into the laundry basket. I quickly put my favourite playlist on before starting dinner.

I planned to prep everything I needed for nachos ahead of time and finish them off in the oven after my shower. I gathered the ingredients that needed to be washed to the sink and mixed the water with a little bit of baking soda. Once the vegetables were clean, I finely diced my tomatoes, onions, jalapeno, and cilantro. Everything went into a bowl, and then I added lime juice and salt to taste. Once my pico de gallo was done, I did the beef and beans.

I've never cooked half naked before, well aside from the fried egg from earlier that morning. It was a novel feeling. I became more aware of my body.

The way my thighs rubbed against each other.

The way my breasts bounced when I made sudden movements.

The feeling of the cool quartz countertop on my hip when I leaned against the kitchen island.

The poor reflections of nakedness on the shiny surface of kitchen appliances.

I never considered myself to be conventionally beautiful. Not like Carla with her blonde curls and toned body. I was, well, soft. I was an ordinary kind of pretty. I was someone you'd learn to be comfortable with. But baring my body to my empty apartment made me feel better than I ever have before.

In my rush to make dinner, I forgot to pat the meat dry. A little bit of oil jumped from the pan as soon as the ground beef made contact. I moved around the stove trying to avoid the hot spatter, before remembering to cover it with a lid. Once the beef and beans were cooked, I set it beside the other components. All I needed to do was to assemble the dish and nuke it.

I took a nice hot shower. I lathered the soap in my hands and enjoyed the way my hands slipped against my skin. I took my time passing over my neck, breasts, down to my stomach and the curls that cover my sex.

When I finished, I pat myself dry and pulled my hair up. I wasn't willing to give up the feeling of being exposed, so the clothes stayed off.

On a baking dish, I put a layer of my chips, beef, and cheese. Left that in the oven for 5 minutes and added my pico de gallo on top. I wasn't much of a dancer, but nachos always put me in a good mood. I threw in a couple cheesy steps between assemblies and danced to the small loveseat beside the living room window. I settled down and flipped through different shows until I found something I liked.

I landed on a typical B-rated rom-com. The characters met, argued, and flirted. They danced around each other and fell prey to the typical misunderstandings that come with these types of stories. But somehow I still teared up during the male lead's ardent confession. Their first kiss quickly turned to more.

He deepened their first kiss. She curled her tongue against his. They stumbled into an artfully lit bedroom, with vague shots of their bare skin.

I laid down my nachos on the side table and followed the prompts on the screen. I lightly circled and pinched my nipples, when he groped her chest. My hands trailed down to my stomach when he sucked on her neck. It would have been more fun to do this with a partner, but going solo wasn't too bad.

The male character nestled his head between her legs, propping her thighs up with his muscular arms. The scene was not explicit at all but itimpliedso much. I quickly rubbed my clit. I imagined his nose nuzzling against my curls, his wet tongue licking my sex in broad strokes before sucking in my clit.

I could have imagined more, but the scene faded into black. While I laid their panting heavily on my loveseat, the two protagonists were whispering sweet I love you's during the next day. I decided to end my session prematurely.

I took my empty plate to the sink and walked back to the loveseat. But instead of settling on the couch, I stood by the window. I knew there wasn't much to see. Our apartment was near the side of the building, so there were no street views for us. Instead what we had was a clear view of an alleyway and the apartment next door and that was during the day. At night, it was pitch black. All I saw when I stood by the window was the faint reflection of me and my home.

We were going to put up curtains when we moved in, but since most of the windows across the alley were blocked, we never bothered. Natural light was a precious commodity and we decided it was one less thing to worry about.

I gave one last look, before switching off the TV and heading off to bed. Carla would be home, and I would have to be used to wearing clothes all over again.

But in hindsight, I shouldn't have rushed. If I had opened the window that night and looked outside like I normally did, I would have seen that not all the windows were boarded. If I had looked beyond the reflection, I would have seen the unit right across our apartment was as unobstructed as mine. And that there too was a couch conveniently placed by the window and I was definitely not as alone as I thought.