Impact of Collision Ch. 09

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.

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

"MOTHER OF GOD!"

I'd been so close to cumming when I heard my phone vibrate and saw it light up with a text from Claire. I lunged for the bedside table, grabbed at my phone with wet fingers - and that's when I fell off the bed and slowly crashed to the floor. I was lying face down and naked in a heap on the floor staring at Kwasi's text in dawning horror.

Hey, Claire is looking for you. Is everything ok?

"What the shit..." I squeaked, and that's when I finally saw all of Claire's texts.

Did you get my voicemail? Did Wes make his bus?

"FUCK!" I felt my stomach drop as I realized the voicemail I thought was from my mom was Claire's - that was hours ago. I forced myself to keep reading.

Is everything OK? Your bag is here, I thought you were coming back - please let me know where you are.

Sarah, why aren't you answering me? I'm worried, please tell me where you are.

I'm so sorry if I hurt you, Sarah. I don't know what to do. You're scaring me.

"GOD No! No! No! NOOO!" I screamed at the phone, as I realized how royally I had fucked up. Claire had been trying to reach me all day.

I started to write a response and then dropped my phone, jumped up to get dressed and then dropped that idea too. I grabbed my phone and pushed my feet into a pair of boots and wrapped myself in my little trench coat and ran out the door. The whole operation couldn't have taken more than ten seconds.

I clattered down the stairs. Of course the only boots that were immediately on hand were my black Nine West come-fuck-me's. I was lucky not to break an ankle in my mad dash. As I all but slid down a flight of stairs I wondered idly if anyone had ever run down these steps in four inch stiletto heels before. But even as I came dangerously close to wiping out halfway down the second flight I found myself imagining the decades of Times Square pimps and hookers who must have haunted these steps in their platform heels, and decided it's probably happened thousands of times.

'Welcome to the big city, New Girl,' I chided myself as I sped on, picturing a police officer explaining to my mother how I'd been found naked at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

'I'm getting good at this,' I realized as I flew down the last flight of steps and out onto the street. I was still struggling to get the trench all the way closed as I ran.

Fat drops of rain were spattering the sidewalk as I reached the end of the block. It was only there at the avenue, as I saw that there wasn't a cab to hail, that I realized I'd left my wallet in my purse. No money. No credit cards. No idea. Searching my pockets I found an old Metro Card. I had no idea how much was on it...

Looking like a runaway stripper, I bolted for the subway.

I knew I should call Claire, but I was scared to. Scared she wouldn't pick up, scared she'd tell me to fuck off. It was then, as I hobble as fast as the fucking boots would allow and gasped loudly, that I finally opened Claire's voicemail. Her voice whispering sing-song into my ear.

"Je suis ton pile, Tu es mon face" she hushed. "Toi mon nombril, Et moi ta glace."

She sounded so unsure of herself, faltering at first. I'd frozen, gasping for breath, but forcing myself to be quiet so I could hear her. I was going to be that fucking girl again, crying in the street.

"Tu es l'envie et moi le geste, Toi le citron et moi le zeste," she sang, her voice gaining force, her song's rhythm picking up pace. I could hear the smile on her lips. I pushed myself to start moving again, tears burning my eyes.

"Je suis le café, a grande caramel macchiato, tu es la tasse. Toi la guitare et moi la basse. I was listening to this song, and I was missing you. Actually the French is more than 'I miss you', tu me manques, it's that you are missing from me... Can you please call me?"

As I ran I saw myself in the eyes of the people I passed. Women look alarmed, men predatory.

I made it to the subway without being attacked or arrested or rained on too badly. On the platform, still panting, I texted Kwasi.

All is well. Bad hangover. I fell asleep after dropping Wes off. I'll let Claire know. Sorry!

Then I texted Claire.

I'm on my way downtown. Are you home?

Sarah! What happened? Where have you been?

I'm so sorry I fell asleep. I thought the vm was from my mother so I ignored it. I feel terrible.

don't be sorry! I'm the one who feels terrible. I'm at home, please come!.

Seeing her words gave me a wave of relief, like a blanket on a cold night. For the first time since seeing she had been texting me I felt like I could breathe.

The platform was empty. I walked down to the benches but didn't sit down - I realized the little trench was too short to risk it. Instead I stood off to one side at the end farthest from the trash bin, which was full to overflowing. I was clutching my phone, squeezing it with all my might. I forced myself to relax my grip, stared at the screen. There was another text from Kwasi.

OK, glad it's nothing - but you can tell me if it's more than nothing.

I pictured his worried face. He has been so good to me. Even with things so hard between Darci and I.

'That stupid fucking drinking game.'

She had looked so amazing that night. Her hair had been down over her eyes. I forget which one of us got dared, but I remembered how she'd looked at me, peeking out from under her shiny curls. Her thick lips in a crooked saucy smile. My stomach had felt like it was full of boiling water, or molten iron.

When I'd asked Claire if she'd been with another girl before, how she had squeezed my hand and told me no: "Girl crushes, women I admired... powerfully, but nothing more. Young Sarah is the first."

The waitress had interrupted and Claire hadn't asked me about my girl crushes or what I'd done. I'd been relieved. I wasn't sure what to tell her about my feelings for Rebekah, or even how to explain what I'd done with her... much less how to describe the powerful and peculiar way I'd admired Darci.

It wasn't just me, Darci had stood out at Brown - with her shining raven hair, so black it was almost blue, tall and slim and athletic. I'd told myself I coveted her confidence, how beautiful and smart and funny she was. But the truth was, she had been my lodestar - always from a distance... or at least until our third year.

"Hell yes, I'll make out with Sarah," Darci had called out, her bravada was directed at the group, but she had said it staring at me. Her eyes were drilling through me.

We'd stood to kiss, stepped away from the table so everyone could see. I don't remember being nervous, but I remember being unsteady, that all the alcohol was beginning to hit me. We had both been smiling, but I'd felt glassy eyed. I'm sure I was bright red. Her skin, olive and tan, had shown no sign of what she was feeling, but her eyes had looked hungry.

"It's not cheating if it's a girl," she'd whispered with a sleepy smile. I nodded, too tongue tied to speak.

We had been friends for most of our junior year, but the trip that spring for the symposium had been different. We had sat together on the trip down to NYC on the bus - talking the whole way and holding court with everyone around us. She had held my hand and played with my hair. Then when there was a SNAFU with the hotel she had jumped to volunteer us to share a room.

It was on the bus trip down I'd confided to Darci how lonely I'd been feeling, my struggles to stay true to Danny, to not cheat. I had told her more than I'd ever told any of my classmates. She'd made the joke about girls not counting with me when I'd told her, laughing at how I'd blushed, how scandalized I'd been.

Looking back I know how smitten I was with Darci. I'd pined for her. I'm sure she had known, had probably known much clearer than I ever had - probably from the start.

For years I'd watched Darci from afar, seen her around, even had a class with her. She was the kind of girl I wished I was; a bit wild, seemingly unafraid. She knew everyone and liked everyone, on top of that everyone liked her. She was as close to a celebrity as Brown had. She was also one of the girls on campus I fantasized the most about.

Darci was the reason I'd started masturbating in the field house. The first time I'd done it had been my sophomore year. We weren't friends yet, but I was keenly aware of who she was, I'm quite sure she didn't even know my name back then. But I'd overheard her telling another girl a sex story on the other side of a row of lockers. I was alone in my row, but it had been the middle of the day, someone could have turned the corner at any moment.

"...it started out as a threesome, " I remember her telling her girlfriend, "but he just ended up watching - I swear his girlfriend had never seen a shaved pussy before - and got really into it - and the girlfriend was a fucking natural."

That image, of her being watched by another girl's boyfriend while she... I didn't even know what - went down on Darci? It was enough to make me drop my towel. I'd been so wet, my whole body had felt weak. The sound of her voice as she confided how much she had liked it was enough. "I seriously couldn't get enough, he passed out, but that bitch kept me cumming till dawn," she'd bragged. I'd had a powerful orgasm almost as soon as I'd touched myself.

I was just picking up my towel and covering myself with shaking hands when the track team surrounded me, their loud voices and banging locker doors muffled by the blood still pounding in my ears. The experience of almost being caught was so intense I almost came again, right there in their midst.

Darci had been a regular part of my fantasy life after that. I would imagine her catching me in the fieldhouse, maybe with her friend - that they would make me finish, watching me cum there in front of my locker - so in that way my fantasies of her were like a lot of my other fantasies. But with her my imagination went further. If I was stuck and frustrated, if I couldn't cum imagining being watched, my mind would call her up. It would be Danny, Darci and I, her laughing while the two of them watched me go down on her shaved pussy again and again.

So when I'd ended up doing research with Darci for a prof and we'd become friends I'd been both ecstatic and full of self doubt. Looking back I knew I'd had a crush on her. But I'd told myself I was just happy to have finally connected, to be accepted by her, that my fantasies about her were really about her.

It had been Darci's idea for us to pool our money for a couple bottles and to have everyone come to our room after we got back from Little India. For some reason we had a suite with two queens and a big table the group could sit around - everyone else was staying in cramped single rooms. In front of everyone Darci had reached for me, her hand behind my neck, her fingers stroking my skin, playing with my short hairs. I remember how her grip on my neck had tightened, how my heart had raced and thundered as she tipped my head and kissed me. I remember everyone had cheered as she leaned me back, like the sailor leaned the nurse on V-Day. I'd felt myself go soft. Wrapped in her arms I'd felt the noise of the party recede.

Hidden behind her dark curls, her black eyes burned into mine. I remember the surprise on her face when I pushed my tongue into her mouth. How her big beautiful eyes had gone wide, but then had given me a conspiratorial look of glee. I had felt her lips curl up in a ghost of a smile as she pushed her tongue past mine, into my mouth. She had tasted like rum, I had been drinking vodka.

I had moaned in real pleasure and clutched at her, which had set off another round of cheers. She responded by pulling me in closer, grabbing at my ass, everyone had thought we were hamming it up, maybe she was. Either way, we had kissed longer than anyone had expected. Kissed until the cheers and laughter had stopped.

When she had finally pulled away from me, she had made a show of taking a deep breath, making everyone laugh. But I'd let my hair fall in front of my face, hidden, I'd panted. Feeling stunned by my own body's reaction.

I was so lost in these memories and didn't hear the train until it was in front of me, doors opening. Mercifully the car was relatively empty. Maybe a dozen or so other riders sprinkled the seats. I remained standing, parking myself against the far doors, careful not to catch anyone's eye. As the train entered the tunnel and the windows across from me go black I saw my reflection. My hair was a fright. I'd taken bed head to new heights. My eyes were tear streaked with mascara trails and hollowed out. I looked like a mad woman - like a whore.

'You are a whore,' I remembered, looking at myself from behind the wreckage of my hair. 'Darci treated you like a whore.'

The game had gone on, but everyone was already very drunk. I had retreated into myself, but no one seemed to notice. At some point Darci had called it a night, chasing everyone out except Kwasi, who'd been helping clean and was the last one left. The three of us were stumbling and laughing as we tried to clear the bottles.

"Tomorrow," she'd announced, gesturing at the mess. "We'll deal with this all tomorrow."

That was when she kissed me again, and like before I felt my whole body respond to her, I gave myself over to that kiss like I'd never given myself to Danny. She had pushed her leg between mine and I'd humped her thigh, grinding myself against her in front of Kwasi.

I don't really remember the madness of what came next. Just that she had pulled at my clothes, and I had pulled at hers. We stripped each other and I don't remember giving it a thought. If I thought of anything I thought of her. I had wanted her so badly it was like a kind of pain and "girls don't count" a hysteric mantra blocking all other thought. We were topless and my pants were pulled down past my ass when she pulled away. She was holding Kwasi's cock in her hand.

I remember that image so clearly. Her hand looked so small and pale wrapped around his great dark cock. I'd forgotten he was there. I had been encouraging Kwasi to make a move on Darci for weeks. As he looked down on us, his reservations had clearly evaporated, all reticence was gone.

"Look at poor Kwasi," she delighted. "We can't leave him like this."

Darci was holding the back of my neck in her other hand. Her pants were down around her ankles, so were Kwasi's. For a stark moment I'd thought she was going to push me on my knees and make me suck him off.

But instead she looked at me appreciatively and flashed a wicked smile.

"Jesus your body..." she'd murmured. Darci had loved my figure, and had never been shy about talking about it, but this was the first time she had looked at me this way - with such naked hunger. I'd preened for her. "...Sarah's not for you Kwasi," she warned, "because that would be cheating, but girls don't count - isn't that right, Beautiful?"

She pulled my face forward.

"Kiss me Sarah, so Kwasi can see," she ordered, kissing me hard and deep.

I wasn't watching Kwasi as I kissed Darci.

"Kwasi," she said, pulling me towards the bed, "I dare you to fuck me while I lick Sarah's pussy."

We had both shrieked with laughter. Her, I think, at the shock on Kwasi's face, me at the sheer madness of what she'd said. But Darci was kicking off her pants and working mine down my thighs, sitting me at the end of the bed, pulling Kwasi by his cock. All I was left with the next day were chaotic and strange images, like a camera tumbling through the air. Darci straddling my lap. Her bald pussy. Squeezing her thighs. The thrill of my lips against her smooth wet skin. The smell of her.

"You like my cunny," she had teased, standing over me, her hands in my hair, pulling me away. "but it's not for you - not till the end."

I had tried to catch my breath as she forced me back and crawled on top of me, the feel of her nails digging into my skin as she pulled me up the bed. She had kissed me deeply again, her hands touching my body.

"Mmmm you like this honey," she'd whispered. I remember I had, more than anything I'd ever felt before. "We're going to have some fun," she'd said - but I'm not sure if she was talking to me or Kwasi... And then she had gone down on me.

Laughing and whining as she licked and sucked at my neck and breast and stomach, and then with my hands in her hair she covered my pussy with her mouth and licked me for the first time. I remember writhing, the wild thrill of looking into her eyes as her tongue curled into me. I had tunnel vision, just her face looking up at me. The wicked look in her eyes, just the two of us. But she had pulled away and looked at Kwasi who was standing behind her naked, his erection standing out from his body thick and stiff and long, like a branch. Darci had made a show of pulling a hair out of her mouth and wagged her ass at Kwasi.

"We need to trim that bush sweetie, it's not 1974," she jabbed. "And you need to give me that cock."

I'd watched her eyes go wide as she guided Kwasi in from behind. She'd lowered her mouth back between my legs, she had moaned into me. I'd watched his bare chest moving forward, pushing her mouth into me. She had sucked me hard, making me writhe and igniting Kwasi. He'd fucked her hard and fast, making her moan and cry out. He had driven her forward so her face was against my belly, the two of us sweating and sliding against each other. Her hands had fumbled against me, pushed into me, but she had been preoccupied with her own pleasure and had all but forgotten mine.

I remember being overcome by her pleasure. I don't really remember the things she said, just that she had been so vocal, her expressions wild and ecstatic - something I'd thought I would never be capable of. And while Kwasi had listened to her, while his hands had squeezed her flesh and gently pulled at her hair, he had watched me while he fucked her. He had pumped her from behind but he had watched my breasts bounce, looked into my eyes.

Despite how excited I'd been to kiss Darci, and as much as I wanted her to continue to lick my pussy, especially after that first moment when she had gone down on me; as Kwasi continued to push into her, pumping both of us, all I'd wanted was to crawl away and leave them to it. But I was pinned under Darci and she wouldn't let me go, she wanted me there. She had put herself between Kwasi and I, but I had been trapped between her and Kwasi. So I'd stayed, watched by them while he fucked her on top of me. I had been a prop for her.

I passed out at some point. The last thing I remember was the two of us bouncing hard, her mouth very close to mine, telling me how good it was. She had moved on top of me as Kwasi had battered her ass from behind. My legs spread wide and my knees pushed up to my shoulders, her sweaty belly sliding against me with his every thrust. I'd tried to hide in her hair, but she had pulled it out of the way. Kwasi had stared in my eyes as he shot great ropes of semen onto her back.