Impact of Collision Ch. 07

This is a collaboration with the amazing SiteNonSite, who has been co-posting it under Novels and Novellas.

As always I encourage you to take the time to read all of SiteNonSite's stories if you haven't already.

I hope you enjoy this series, and you continue to post comments.

Special thanks to HaltWhoGoesThere for proof reading this chapter for us.

Claire is carefully disentangling herself from my embrace. I have a moment of confused alarm.

"whattimeisit?!"

"Shhh," she soothes. "It's too early still, go back to sleep."

And I do, almost instantly.

I wake up again to the sound of Claire's front door. She climbs onto the bed and onto me, as I blindly yawn and stretch. She's dragging the morning chill of the street in with her, still wearing her jacket. She kisses me as I raise my head.

"What time is it?" I ask, less alarmed this time yet still disoriented.

"Still early," she promises. "We have plenty of time. Here, this is for you."

Claire has a grande caramel macchiato and warm croissants. They smell delicious.

"I'm famished!"

"Do you remember falling asleep last night?" she asks as she rips a piece off her croissant. She's sporting a shit eating grin that makes me suspicious I've forgotten something important. I have a vague memory of Claire pulling me up the bed and tucking me in.

"Not really?"

"You had your face buried in my pussy and were suckling me in your sleep, it was very sweet," she says, popping a bit in her mouth. I'm confused, but then I remember. Claire had cum and I had wanted to make her cum again, but that's all I remember...

"Oh God," I moaned, covering my face. "I'm so sorry."

"No! It was wonderful," she laughs, pulling at my fingers. "Really, it made me very happy. You were so sweet."

With many kisses and much laughter she manages to get me to unfold and return to our breakfast. We sit cross legged and visit in bed discussing ideas for the weekend to come, but then she bundles me off to the bathroom where she washes and shampoos me.

"Ah non!" she scolds, as I try reaching for her. "The Working Girl has no time for this if she's going to get her blowout!"

I whine, but she pushes me against the wall from behind and hugs me.

"We only have enough time for one orgasm this morning and it's going to be yours," she says crisply in my ear as her feet kick mine to either side until I am standing with my legs spread wide.

"Please Claire, let me-"

"That's enough Working Girl, we do what I want today," she commands as she reaches around and grips my pussy firmly in her hand; taking possession of it. "Don't shut me out... you liked this last night Sarah. And I want you ready for work."

Her fingers are rubbing my lips, bearing down on my clit.

"Mmmmm.."

The moan sounds wanton and unrestrained. I can hardly believe I'm making it. I push my ass against her and press my splayed hands against the tile as she pushes a finger into me.

"My Working Girl is so wet," Claire purrs.

"Yes," I whinge, my voice high, and again unrecognizable. I think of the way she made me scream the night before, I can't help myself.

"Mmmmmnnn God Claire!"

"I like it when you say my name," she growls. Her finger pulls upwards and exposes my clit, again I'm making little animal sounds and moaning like a harlot.

"Oh God Claire..." I whine. "... oh Claire!"

She's grinding her hips against my ass and her fingers are making slurping noises as she fingers me, I spread my legs wider for her, letting her fingers go deeper. Her other hand is on my still soapy breast, she's squeezing it hard.

"God I love your breasts," she coos in appreciation, pushing her fingers into me, squeezing her thumb and index finger together to pinch my nipple. She is looking over my shoulder, the side of her face pressed against mine. We are watching her hand together, watching her heft and grasp my breast, roll and tug at my nipple. "I love them so much, I love doing this to you, I love feeling you this way."

Her other hand is pushing two fingers deep inside me, curling back and pulling at me. With each withdrawal she presses the heel of her hand hard against my clit, a firm pressure but gentle movements. My body twitching, the heat burning in my belly. My knees unlock, bending and opening my legs even wider for her. I realize I'm making a high pitch whining sound, almost squealing with the pulsing movements of her hand.

"hyyyy... hyyyy... hyyyy..."

"I never want to stop Sarah," she tells me. "I want you like this forever. I love how you feel in my arms."

I feel a sea change taking hold of my body. There is a violence to it, like a pressure wave blowing across my guts and battering my clenched abdomen.

"Yes!" She cries. "Yes Sarah! I love this, I love feeling you cum!"

"Oh Jesus Christ Claire! OOOOOOHHHHGODCLAIRE!"

My feet are spread wide, my knees bent, I'm pressing at the tiled wall with all my might, arching my back and pushing my spread ass into Claire's pussy. I can feel her little blonde bush tickling my asshole. The orgasm is pulsing up through me, is bigger than me.

"I am going to fuck this ass," she swears and I climax, howling like a bitch in heat.

"OHCLAIREGODJESUSGODCLAIRE!"

She holds me so I don't fall, whispering obscene affectionates in my ear, holding me as I shiver and jerk, a wet rag in her arms.

"My Young Sarah," she soothes.

After insisting on drying me off she does my hair and makeup before telling me there's a car waiting to take me to work.

"It's too much,' I protest. But she just smiles proudly.

"There is not enough. Not after this week," she tells me. "Not for you."

With that she sends me off with two wet kisses and a box lunch of leftovers.

Both Keith and Ben greeted me with raised eyebrows.

It was like the opposite of a walk of shame. I'd brought a change of clothes with me to Claire's - wanting to be dressed up for Wes' arrival. Doing my makeup Claire had looked so happy. She'd told me she'd been thinking about it, and I was amazed with the results. I hardly even looked like me. I'd probably never looked this good before - especially not at work.

"My brother is coming tonight," I explained, nervously touching the big wavy locks with my fingertips. Keith and Ben seemed to know I was uncomfortable and both turned back to their work without further comment.

I settled in for work, feeling both embarrassed and proud of how I looked. I was glad it was just the guys seeing me.

"Wow! Look at you all made up like it's Fashion Week. Are you going to a wedding, because I know it's not Fashion Week?!?"

At the sound of Kathy's voice my stomach dropped. I stared back at her lifeless doll eyes, and her big smiling face, her backhanded question. I wished she'd fall through the floor.

'We get it Kathy,' I thought. 'I'm overdressed.'

"She has family visiting," Ben said - his tone was crisp... he was defending me.

"Oh hey that's great," she said. "Did you guys see Jen's email?"

"We did Kathy," Keith chimed in. "We're playing catch up right now, but I'll get back to her this afternoon."

"Oh because I thought maybe Sarah-"

"I'm on it Kathy, thanks," Keith told her, holding Kathy's gaze. She clearly wasn't done but after a short pause she nodded and left.

"That was some Nerd Diva mind trick magic," Ben muttered as we all returned to our work.

After that, with the exception of Keith answering some calls, the three of us worked in silence most of the morning. We were all getting swamped with changes. I sipped at my coffee and focused on the revisions I was responsible for, plugging them into my model, looking at the cascade problems each caused, making corrections to the code. So far I hadn't run into anything I couldn't handle myself. It was pretty brainless work, so I was also going over the events of last night and this morning in my mind, worrying them.

I thought about Claire calling me a whore and felt my face grow warm. My fingers pounded at the keys of my computer as I fought with myself, struggling to concentrate. I could feel myself getting wet.

Growing up I'd been terrified of being called a slut or a whore. I saw how those labels stuck, how the so-called sluts and whores were treated. It terrified me. My parents weren't rich. I didn't have older brothers to stand up for me. And my fucking boobs got so big so fast. I had done my best to hide them, to not be noticed. To make myself invisible. But then Danny had started talking to me in church and asked me out. Everything had changed. My mother had said I'd come out of my shell. I hadn't been so scared of everyone anymore - just Danny.

"Ben, what do lesbians do with U-Hauls?"

Keith was on the phone with London again and I had leaned back so I could whisper my question. Ben looked surprised.

"Second dates," he told me, as if that explained everything. His big bearded face wore a curious expression, his narrow set eyes stared back at me, smiling a little but maybe a little confused, his great thick brows pulled together. Ben had so much body hair it made his shirts stand away from his body. His shoulders were as wide and as big as Kwasi's but Ben wasn't nearly as tall. I wondered what it was like to have sex with someone that hairy.

"I don't get it," I admitted.

"It's just a dumb joke Sarah."

I wished I hadn't asked Claire about U-Hauls. I wondered again for the thousandth time if it had upset her.

Our morning got progressively crazier and crazier as the editors were putting changes through till noon and then there was a cluster fuck with the fact checkers. At 5pm I sent Keith and Ben home. They are both married, but neither wanted to "abandon" me - despite the fact that it was all drudge work from then on out. Explaining I had to pick up my brother at Port Authority at 9pm anyway I sent them home to their wives, promising I'd call if anything went seriously pear shaped.

Everything was resolved by 7pm, but I hung out in the office tidying, organizing, and arranging all of the dolls on Ben's desk into a sci-fi/superhero kama sutra till it was time to pick up Wes.

"Whatcha doin?"

"JESUS KIP!"

He had come up right behind me and asked me right in my ear in his deepest baritone. I smashed him on the shoulder with a robot.

"Hey! Sorry! Ow! Hey!" He made a show of cowering, ducking his head and covering it with his arms as I battered him with the killer robot and a Scooby Doo. "Ow! Like, watch it Scoob! Zoinks! OW! OW!"

"You scared the living shit out of me!" I yelped, my heart still thundering.

"OKOKOK! You win! You win!" Kip fell back into Ben's chair laughing.

"Just like I won the bet."

But he didn't take the bait, instead Kip just studied me - almost suspiciously.

"Sooo, you look good..." he said, as he fixed a strand of my hair that got loose in our tussle. "A blowout for the baby brother is a power move. Did you do it yourself?"

"Claire did it for me this morning," I replied, instantly regretting my admission.

"Wow, you two start early, or did Sarah have a sleepover?" His tone was playful.

I felt myself blushing, so I turned back and started rearranging the toys again. I nervously posed Scooby sodomizing the robot.

"Should Scooby Dooby Doo The Terminator? Or would the Terminator do Scooby 'I'll be back' style."

"Scooby's a top," he said flatly. "So, sorry, but you got a blowout from the curator to pick your little brother up from Port Authority?"

I thought about telling Kip all about Claire, but I wasn't sure what to say - wasn't even sure what I was doing. Claire and I haven't talked about what we were doing. It all felt so extraordinary and exceptional. And judging by her stories, a part of me felt Claire would disappear at any moment... or I could.

'I'm good at that,' I thought. 'In my own way.'

Plus Kip was so determined to keep everything light. I hated the idea of Claire being reduced to an in-joke with Kip.

"Leave it Kip, there's nothing wrong with wanting to look 'City Girl' for my brother."

Kip raised an eyebrow, but stopped himself, as if he had something else to say. "Alright City Girl, you have fun with your brother, I'm out of here. You're gorgeous Sarah!"

And then, once he was way down the hall and safely out of sight, he yelled, "I won the bet!"

I was shocked to see my little brother as he got off the bus. He was even taller than the last time I saw him, taller than everyone around him, easily a head taller than me. But he was still painfully thin with boyishly narrow shoulders. His hair was a great mop of dark curls that covered his eyes, something he's been doing for years - which kills me, because he has the most beautiful blue eyes. I watched him looking around for me, I could tell he was confused and worried and a little dazed. There were sleep marks on his cheeks. He probably slept the whole way.

"Hey dummy." He looks over and his face lights up like the little boy he still is when he sees me, but then immediately reverts to his mister-cool expression.

"You're the dummy," he says with a shy smile. He lets me hug him and even hugs me back. It's been a while since he'd do that. I feel myself tearing up a little.

I pulled back and took a deep breath, pushed his hair back to see his face. His acne is better. His face has thinned out. My sister and I look so much like my mom, but Wes looks like our father. The same straight long nose and square jaw. Same bright blue eyes, but Wes's eyes are kind.

"Wow, you look amazing! Why are you all dressed up?"

I could feel myself blushing. Wes surprised me, I hadn't really expected him to even notice.

'Who is this tall man where my brother should be?' I wondered. Smiling, I spun and did a little pose for him."I got all dolled up for you!"

He was looking down at me, studying me. His expression was so... adult.

"Seriously, you look terrific. Like, a whole-other-person-terrific. New York is good for you."

"Things are good?" I admitted, blinking up at him in surprise. I'd primped before leaving work, freshening up the job Claire had done that morning. And I'd known we were going out tonight, and had chosen a nice dress, so I wanted to look good, but still, this was not at all what I expected from my little brother. It all seemed so mature, like something a man would say. Not sure what else to say, I pushed his hair to the side and told him. "You look good too. You're so tall! I've missed you baby brother."

He shrugged and blushed at this. Now I was making him uncomfortable, so I stopped fussing.

"Is that all you have?" I asked. All he had was a small backpack slung over one shoulder. The other passengers were busy pulling their things from underneath the bus.

"Two nights," was all he said, hefting the bag with a shrug. I led him away from the scrum around the bus. It was late, almost 8, so rush hour was well over. But the Port Authority isn't empty and the creepers moving around were especially strange. Navigating the drunks and weirdos I watched my brother, he looked like he's trying not to look alarmed. I'm glad my mom insisted I keep him close.

"Are you hungry?" I ask.

"Starved!"

"We're going to stay with my friend Claire this weekend, because she has a couch and I don't really. We're going to meet her for dinner near her place, you'll like it."

On the subway I asked him about Mom and Kelly. He tells me about AV club, his admissions essay and cross country. I tell him about the Afghanistan piece and Claire. He asks about Kwasi - his absolute favorite.

They had met my sophomore year. Wes had come and stayed with me in the dorm for a long weekend. It had been love at first sight - they had been immediately inseparable. One afternoon I'd found the two of them sitting on the ledge outside my window. Wes yelled "PULL!" And Kwasi was blowing bubbles for Wes to shoot with a squirt gun.

"I told you not to get him high," I'd scolded Kwasi. They had just laughed at me.

I watched Wes' face light up when I told him that, while Kwasi was busy tonight, he was looking forward to hanging out tomorrow night. It was only as we were walking into Odeon that I realized we hadn't talked about dad at all.

Claire is standing at the corner of the bar when we come in. There's a good looking guy in a suit chatting her up, but she looks bored, and as soon as she sees us she grabs her drink.

"My date is here!" she announces brightly, rolling her eyes dramatically as she walks towards us. She's dressed to kill, in a wine coloured single shouldered dress. The frill over the shoulder does nothing to hide the girls.

"Oof! That one was quite persistent," she says to me then, with a big smile she greets Wes with two kisses. "Look at you - even more handsome than your sister promised!"

Wes blushes crimson and I enjoy watching him struggle not to ogle Claire.

The hostess greets us, and leads us to our table.

"You must be hungry, non? If you are anything like my brothers you will be starving."

"I could eat," Wes admits as we're seated.

I'm watching Wes as he picks up and looks at the menu. He's studying the prices with alarm. He'd told me dad wouldn't give him any money for the trip but that mom had slipped him a twenty - I was pretty sure he didn't have much more than that.

"This is on me," I tell him. "Order anything you want."

"Really?" he asks, a dubious look on his face.

"I've got you this weekend," I told him. He looks uncomfortable with that and I'm about to press him on it when Claire chimes in.

"You know your sister is very successful?" she asks, taking Wes by surprise. "Not only is her job prestigious, she makes more than me - take her up on her offer!"

I know Claire is proud of me, that she enjoys telling people what I do and where I work, but to hear her say it to Wes was different. To see it register with him, to see him understand something new about me through her eyes feels somehow... momentous.

At Claire's urging Wes ordered the cheese burger AND the steak.

"You can do it!" she laughs, "and she can afford it!"

She orders the Niçoise Salad for herself and I order the same, but not without wondering when it was that I last saw Claire eat meat.

"So Sarah says you are a very talented writer, but that you've decided to study film. What kind of movies are you interested in making?"

Claire gets Wes talking and keeps him talking. He tells her about films and video games and visual narrative and visual culture, about the reel he put together for NYU admissions. He's so smart, so much more sophisticated than I ever was at his age, and now that he's on a subject he's comfortable with, so much more confident.

"Listen to him, he's like a beautiful Marty Scorsese!" Claire laughs, "I don't dare disagree with him, with that American accent. All he needs is a cigar!"

But it's true. He's speaking with enthusiasm and authority. I'm so excited for him. I have no doubt he'll blow his interviewers away tomorrow. Our waitress looked genuinely impressed as she cleared his plates.

I show Wes the washroom, getting him a towel from under the sink. I notice my toothbrush in the glass with Claire's. She's pushed the brushes together, so their bristles are enmeshed; they look like lovers kissing.

I reach over and push them apart, turning I see Wes watching me. I'm babbling. I keep babbling, hoping he didn't see, papering over the moment.

I leave him to clean up and rejoin Claire in the living room and help her make up the couch. She's stacked the back cushions on the floor and together we lay out the flat sheet, but when she puts the pillow at the far end of the couch I tell her no, and gesture for it.