Dream Girl

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AwkwardMD
AwkwardMD
1,317 Followers

"What's going on?" Des took the last few steps, her curiosity ramping up as Xander just blinked at her, until she too got to the doorway. He stepped aside, looking very unsure of himself, but kept his arm against the open door to brace it. His expression said as little as he did, and Des spun when motion inside the apartment caught her eye.

"Hello Desdemona."

"What is she doing here?" Des said, her blood boiling instantly.

Paige's mother, in a dark blue suit, smiled bitterly. "Wonderful to see you, too."

"What is she doing here?" Des repeated, this time turning to Xander. The RA's jaw fell open, but Des gave him no time to respond. "You know she's not allowed in there."

"I... but—"

"You're not allowed in here," Des shrieked, storming across the threshold. Mrs. Everett took one last look at the trophy in her hand before setting it back down on the shelf with a resigned sigh. Once Des was a few steps into the apartment she saw the box on the floor half-full with medals and memorabilia, and exploded. "Get out!"

Mrs. Everett folded her arms across her chest, cocked her hips, and planted one heeled foot out in front of herself, but Des was so far beyond being intimidated by her that she threw her bag at the older woman as hard as she could.

"Hey!" Mrs. Everett cried, barely getting her arms up in time to shield her face.

"Get Out!!"

"Now you listen to—"

But she got no further. Des grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and came charging around the couch with it drawn back over her shoulder. Paige's mother shrieked as she made for the door, barely remembering to snag her purse by the shoulder strap as she darted out into the hallway. All of the blood had drained from Xander's face when Des circled back around to the door.

"You know what she did," Des said, shaking visibly with anger.

"I know, but—"

"Paige lost three fucking Olympic medals because of her!"

"I know, but—"

"A fucking GOLD medal!"

"I kno—"

"And you just let her in here?"

"Come on, Des!" Xander cried, just before taking a cautionary step back. Des had completely forgotten she was still wielding the chair like a weapon. "Look, I'm sorry, but what was I supposed to do?! I just—"

"If I ever catch her in here again, I'm not going to go to your boss. I'm going to track you down and fucking kill you!"

"Jesus!" Xander yelled, just before Des slammed the door shut.

The chair fell from her hands and bounced off the carpet as Des ran to the box and stared. Tears filled her eyes. Medals. Paige's team jacket. Almost all of it from the 2016 Games in London. Paige didn't keep anything from 2012. As soon as Des trusted her hands to be steady, and that did not happen quickly, she started picking things up and putting them back where they belonged. On shelves. On the walls. The jacket went back into the closet, hung inconspicuously between Paige's favorite puffy winter coat and one of her own raincoats. Reverently adjusting everything just so to match how it had been before.

It took her nearly ten minutes of hustling back and forth between the different rooms before the box was empty, but something gnawed at her. She blinked and spun. Something was off.

There were gaps. Holes where she and Paige had put other things.

"The bowling pin," Des moaned, staring at the top of the shelf. "Where's the bowling pin?" She turned, drifting in a daze. Head swimming as she looked up and down. All over. The conch shell from North Carolina. The two yellow hats.

"No-no-no-no-no!"

Des leapt into the kitchen when she saw that the cabinet door was ajar, and she wept when she pulled out the trash can. The conch shell was right on top, and there was more below it that Des hadn't yet noticed was gone. She pulled each item out carefully and wiped them down to make sure none of them had gotten dirty in the trash.

After she'd put everything back, Des made two circuits around the apartment looking for other things that might have gone missing. And then another circuit. And then another.

And then another.

***

"I almost beat her to death," Des said, shaking her head. Paige just laughed. "I swear. If she hadn't run out of there when she did, I was going to start swinging."

"I know you would have," Paige said.

The food court was still pretty busy, but Des didn't care to lower her voice any. "I still can't believe she just showed up like that."

"How do you think she's handling it?"

"Bitch is probably telling her little gaggle of hens all about how she was assaulted, over some tear-garnished Appletinis." She scowled and shook her head. "She's lucky I didn't see that she'd thrown away stuff of ours while she was still within swinging distance."

" 'Olympics or bust.' That was what she always said." Paige rolled her eyes and sat back.

"I hate her," Des said, but Paige just smiled.

"You were looking out for me today."

"God damn right I was," Des yelled. "Fucking bitch."

Paige smiled, looking around quickly, but no one was paying them any mind.

"I mean, how could she just throw away the conch?"

"She doesn't know," Paige said, shaking her head.

"That was when I told you I loved you!"

"Hey hey," Paige said, leaning forward and reaching across the table to wrap her hands around Des'. "I know. I know."

"You can't just throw something like that away!"

Paige smiled wider, softer. Gripping Des' hands. "Hey."

"She just strolled right in there," Des said, staring blankly at the wall. "Not a thought in her head except 'what can I use?' "

"Hey," Paige repeated.

Des blinked. "What?"

"I love you, too."

Des looked down and nodded, eyes watering all over again. She sniffed loudly. "Can I hear that again?"

"I love you, too."

Des nodded emphatically and took a few heavy breaths. After a moment, she smiled. She'd always been more volatile than Paige, and Paige had always been there for her to help even her out.

"Don't worry about her, okay? She can't touch us."

Des shook her head, shifted her hands so that she could hold Paige's right back, and squeezed them tightly.

"She can't change us. Not anymore"

"She tried to before," Des said, sniffling again.

"Listen to me." Paige arched her eyebrow way up on her forehead and waited patiently for Des to meet her gaze. "You will always be the best part of my life. It's set in stone." Des nodded and looked away, unable to processing everything her girlfriend was saying. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes," Des muttered.

"The best part of my life."

Des swallowed and nodded again.

"Thank you."

Des looked up, finally able to look Paige in the eye again. Once she was satisfied that her point had been made, Paige gave her hands one last squeeze before letting go. Then she picked up her cup and sipped at her tea.

"You should eat something," Paige said, but Des just shook her head.

"My appetite is... just..."

"I know, but still."

"Later," Des said evasively.

Paige nodded slowly, and ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. "You know, I kind of like the idea of you running around threatening her."

Des blushed and rolled her eyes.

"Desdemona. Queen of the Amazonians. It has a ring to it."

"Wouldn't I have to cut off one of my tits then?"

"That's only if you want to use a bow and arrow." Paige sat up and demonstrated, extending one arm and drawing the other one across her chest. She bounced her wrist into her right breast twice and smirked. "Apparently your weapon of choice is wooden furniture."

"Shut up," Des said, blushing harder. "Although if you want to start referring to me as 'My Queen', I don't think I'd be opposed to that."

Paige smirked and nodded. No one could make her feel the way Paige did.

Suddenly, Paige stood up. "May I escort you to the bathroom, my Queen?"

Des held her hand up, delicately bent at the wrist, and gave a happy little squeak when Paige helped her stand. Paige kept her hand tightly gripped and led the way. Threading between tables and down the hallway beside the Orange Julius.

Paige's long, wavy hair bounced and swayed behind her, and every time Paige looked back over her shoulder, she was smirking. Her university sweatshirt covered her upper body except for where her rolled-up sleeves exposed muscled forearms. The sweatshirt came down almost as far as her shorts did, covering very little of her sinuous legs.

She pushed open the bathroom door, with Des still in tow, and stopped her with an upheld hand. Des stood there, a little confused, as Paige went down the row of stalls. Pushing open each closed door to make sure it wasn't locked. Des turned to check herself in the mirror. She'd had to change out of the workout tank and leggings she'd been in when she'd gotten home to find Mrs. Everett there, feeling like they'd been tainted, and had later put on a loose fitting spaghetti-strap top and a thigh-length jean skirt.

Paige was kissing her before Des even realized what she was doing. She gasped when Paige backed her into the wall, and her eyes darted to the push-to-open door without a lock just beside her. Soft whimpers, as strong hands slipped underneath her top and wrapped around her sides.

"Oh fuck," Des moaned. Kisses along her cheek. Down the side of her neck. Down into the corner, where her neck met her shoulder. One of Paige's thighs wedged in between her legs, and Des instinctively clenched around it.

"Does this please you, my Queen?"

"Holy fuck!"

Paige smiled, a flash of white teeth in the very edge of Des' peripheral vision. She brought her arms up and around Paige's shoulders. One hand pressed against the back of Paige's head.

"Holy fuck!"

Paige's hands moved down, quickly traveling to the button of her jean skirt. Des gasped as the jeans cinched around her waist for just a moment before relaxing, and just like that there was a hand sliding down. A palm against the lower part of her belly. Fingers sliding through her thick, curly hair. Des sucked a sharp breath in through her teeth when Paige's fist tightened, gripping her pelt and pulling up. She loved the sweet sting.

Another hard tug, and Des popped up onto her toes with a yelp.

Des clung to Paige. Stayed upright only because Paige held her there. Only because Paige wanted her there.

There was overwhelming relief when Paige released her grip on the tuft of orange hair. Two of her fingers slid down over Des' mound, splitting the lips. Des immediately shifted her weight to her right leg and brought her left up; partially to open herself for Paige, partially to wrap her leg around Paige's hip. She looked over Paige's shoulder, at their reflection in the mirror, and shivered at the sight of her neon yellow sneaker nestled just beneath Paige's incredible ass. She closed her eyes, committing the image of Paige pinning her to the wall to memory, and sighed as two fingers penetrated her.

"Ohhh fuck."

Paige sucked harder at her neck, biting and tugging on the pale flesh. Marking her. Des loved to get hickeys. The brunette's right hand slid around behind her, pressing flat on the small of Des' back, but it only stayed there for a second. The door next to them started opening, and Des caught a flash of gray hair before Paige slammed the door shut.

"Hey!" came the voice from the hallway.

Paige shouted right back, "Occupied!"

"It's not that kind of bathroom!"

"Fuck off already," Paige growled.

"Oh fuck," Des whimpered, her head turning. The door, maybe six inches away, started to creep open again, and this time when Paige slammed her hand into it, she held it there. Keeping it shut. "Oh fuck!"

"I need to use the restroom!"

Paige snarled as she opened the door just enough for them both to see the elderly woman, and for her to see them. Des' cheeks turned crimson knowing exactly what expression she was wearing. How her lips were spread wide in agonizing joy. How flushed her cheeks were.

"Oh my," she said, quickly taking in the scene.

"Fuck. Off."

"But—"

Paige slammed the door shut again and went right back to the corner of Des' neck. Des found she could no longer control the volume of her voice. She didn't care if the woman outside heard. She didn't care if the whole food court heard. Full-throated moaning.

"Fuck me," Des groaned.

Paige chuckled, working her fingers slowly and deeply. "Whatever you say, my Queen."

"Is it full?"

Des gasped, hearing a completely different voice outside now.

"No!" exclaimed the voice from before. "They won't let me in!"

"They who?"

"Oh fuck," Des groaned, clenching around Paige. Gripping her tightly around the shoulders. Gripping a fistful of her wavy brown hair. Gripping her hips. Squeezing around her fingers. Paige growled approvingly. Des groaned louder at blunt, widespread pressure at the top of her cleft. The flat of Paige's palm, at the root of her thumb. Hard. Smothering her clit. "Oh fuck!" She could hear both of the women outside, complaining to each other, but their words dulled to noise against the onslaught of blood rushing through her ears. The soft, wet sound of Paige suckling on her skin.

"Ignore them," Paige growled, but her instructions had the opposite effect. Now all Des could think about was that they'd been caught. They'd finally been found out while fucking in public. It fed something dark and primal in her. She still couldn't hear what they were saying, but she knew they were there. They knew, and they were going to tell others.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" Des moaned, long and low. Dripping with surrender. Someone was going to show up. Security, or worse. They were going to get arrested. Her parents would find out. Everyone would find out. "Fuuu-huuuu-huuuck!"

In all her years of competitive gymnastics, the one aspect Paige had always been known for was her timing. It showed up in her musicality, and her ability to pair her floor routines with different pieces of music. It showed on the uneven bars. It even showed on the rings and the vault, her weakest events, where even though her skillset was less flamboyant than that of her teammates, she always-always-always stuck the landing.

So it was no surprise to Des when, just as she felt herself tipping over into that bottomless chasm, she felt Paige's tongue running along the edge of her ear. A devastating combination of weaknesses that sucked every bit of strength out of her knees and had her writhing, barely clinging to Paige, in sheer, overwhelming ecstasy.

"D-do-don't s-stop-stop," she stammered.

Paige smirked.

"Not ever! Please!"

***

"Another deep breath," Des said, counting off in her head. Three beats while inhaling. Three beats while exhaling. "Good. Good." She pulled an elastic band from her wrist and hastily wrapped her long orange hair into a ponytail at the base of her skull but, when she put her hands back down, she planted her palm on the small bowl of oil she'd just set there and sent the bowl and its contents splashing across the room behind her. "Fuck!"

Mr. Mueller pushed himself up and looked back, frowning, as Des groused and scurried to her stack of towels. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," Des said. "It's fine. It's just a little oil."

"Yeah, but that's the second time."

"It's fine," Des repeated, more insistently.

"Des, really, I appreciate this, but if you're sick you should probably—"

"I'm not sick!'

"You look really pale."

Des took a deep breath and turned slowly. "I'm fine. I'm not sick. I just put the bowl in a different place than usual and I bumped it."

"Yeah, but twice."

"I'm fine!"

The door opened, and one of the other therapists poked their head in with a confused look. "Who is—oh... Des?"

"What is it, Kristen?"

The mousey little short-haired brunette blinked and froze. "Are you supposed to be here today?"

"Yes," Des groaned. "Why?"

"Well... it's just... Ann told us—"

"I'm fine!"

"Ma'am," Mr Mueller said, as he turned to the door. "I don't think she is."

"I'm gonna go get Ann," Kristen squeaked.

"You don't need to do that," Des said, barely masking her irritation, but the short newcomer was already gone. "Shit. Look." She shook her head and made tight fists with her hands, holding it for a count of three, and then relaxed. "Mr. Meuller, I'm really sorry about the oil, but I promise, if you'll just lay back down, we can get right back to this."

"Honey," he said, shaking his head softly. Des rankled at his presumptiveness. "Listen. You have been really good to me for almost two years now. You're not gonna lose me as a customer, but I—"

"Of course I'm not going to lose you as a customer," Des said, as she scooped up all her oil-soaked towels. "Everything is fine. This is just a minor accident."

"Des," Ann said smoothly, as she came through the door. "Come on. We'll take care of cleaning that up."

"I don't need someone to clean this up for me! I'm fine! No!" she cried, shrugging away when Ann put an arm around her shoulder. "Stop!"

"Des, please."

"What are you doing?" she yelled, as Ann tried to get behind her. "Leave me alone."

"Come on, Des."

"Why do you keep saying my name like that?!"

"Let's get you home."

"I'm not going home. I have appointments!"

"We'll reschedule them. It will be fine."

"No!"

"I'll reschedule," Mr. Mueller offered.

"Mr. Mueller, would you please..." Ann gestured toward the door, and the man nodded as he grabbed his shirt. Kristen was hovering out in the hall, and she waved him along.

"Stop! No!"

"Des!" Ann said, more firmly, as she planted herself in front of the redhead. "You shouldn't be here."

"That's ridiculous!"

"I think you should go."

"This is ridiculous!!"

"You don't look good. Have you eaten anything today?"

"How many times do I have to say I'm fine before someone will believe me?!"

"Come on. Don't make a scene. We'll reschedule, and it'll be like today never happened."

"What the fuck, Ann?!"

"Let's go," Ann said, trying to be more forceful. She turned around, pulled out the cubby where Des' purse was, and gave Des a gentle nudge toward the door.

"Are you firing me?"

"Of course not, Des, but don't you think you should be, you know, at—"

"No, you know what? This is beyond ridiculous." She ripped her purse out from Ann's hand and stalked toward the door. "I quit."

"You're not quitting," Ann said, following along beside her. "Today never happened."

"Do you hear yourself?"

"Do you?" Ann said back, her eyebrows resting high.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen." Des stormed through the lobby, throwing her middle finger up over her shoulder as she plowed into the front door. She got to her car and practically ripped her purse in half while searching for her keys. Upon finding them, nestled in the front pocket, she got into her car and roared out of the parking lot. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, screaming as loud as she could, and her throat was begging for relief by the time her lungs were spent.

None of the songs on the radio suited her mood, so Des hit the mute button and growled as another driver cut her off. She extended her middle finger at them too, got the same in reply, and laid on her horn. By the time she got home, Des was fury on legs. She slammed the front door behind her and blinked, a little confused at finding herself at her parents' house but that was well enough.

AwkwardMD
AwkwardMD
1,317 Followers