Kayla and Renee's First Time

"Gin and tonic on the rocks and a shot of vodka." The bartender immediately whisked away with the woman's drink order.

Kayla wished the hand supporting her head on the bar would conveniently slip and let her forehead slam into it. It would certainly be more socially excusable than walking over to a wall and doing her best impression of a woodpecker. Her fingers pressed against her eyelids.

Her entire life was done. Gone. Over. Just like that, as long as it took for workplace security to escort her to her cubicle to pack up her meager workplace decorations after she was notified of a department-wide layoff. There may have been four or five other people with milk crates and cardboard boxes in the one-way trip down the elevator with her. Or there may haven't been, she didn't pay attention. As far as she was concerned, she walked out of that building alone. Kayla barely remembered it. Her mind blanked and her eyes simply stared.

"Here ya go, honey." The dull thunk of the lowball glass and tink of the shot glass on the bar's quarter-inch acrylic varnish was her distinct yet unobtrusive reminder of reality.

Kayla pulled her head from her palm and looked up. Three rows of large bottles with every color of spirit and liquor possible filled the back wall. Still not enough, she thought as she looked into her own drink.

The woman's prim, tidy, well-fitted ensemble of wide-leg pants and sleeve top under a navy blazer as of one that afternoon had been reduced to a sloppy lackadaisical mess in the several hours she had occupied a seat. The coat was draped across her lap and the top underneath was unbuttoned as much as could be allowed. Her dark brown bangs had fallen across her forehead while the rest of her hair still sat in a black scrunchie-bound ponytail.

"Thanks." A hint of gravel layered over Kayla's voice. Her slender fingers grasped the shot glass and lay still. Translucent nail polish glistened over her cuticles. She didn't want to count how many drinks she'd had today. This wasn't a day for thinking. Or for remembering.

She threw her head back and necked the shot. The bitter changed to burning down her throat as she took a breath and allowed several coughs to escape. Breathe out afterwards, don't inhale the fumes, a sympathetic bar patron she had met earlier in the day had told her. Well, fucked that one up.

Kayla brought her fist to her mouth to mask the fit and she felt beads of moisture form in the corner of her eyes. Oh God no, not the tears. Anything but the tears. Please. Her head fell to her crossed arms as her meager, alcohol-addled attempt at composure failed and she wept.

She had it all. Kayla Hill: Executive Vice President. Established in a corner office in her building's fourteenth floor, she had the ear of the C-suite, an ample salary, benefits, everything a high powered city girl could ask for, well before the age of 40 at that. Even a company car. Just last week she had taken the lead on a multi-million-dollar acquisition deal with one of her firm's biggest competitors, something she knew would have made her a shoe-in for VP itself. Only one or two rungs down the ladder from the real power players.

Had it actually happened, she corrected herself. Until she was stabbed in the back and thrown into the street to rot.

Kayla looked up and wiped her tears to try and claw back at least some of her dignity. She couldn't even feel rage or animosity yet as the world began to double. Only a mind-filling, drunken numbness. A sore red had seeped into her gray-green eyes and her pale cheeks were flushed. She didn't want to think about what she looked like and for the first time that night wished that she had chosen a more isolated place at the bar.

Kayla knew she was ordinarily attractive when she wasn't suffering from the physical consequences of drowning her sorrows at a local hole-in-the-wall dive. She would commonly catch male coworkers side-eyeing her as she walked past, and even a few women on occasion despite the overall workplace attitude being extremely professional. Couldn't help it, she supposed. Not that she could blame them, she mused, hearkened back to a collegiate tryst with one of her female friends. Oh, the looks she would give Kayla afterwards.

She was usually proud of it too, given the amount of work she put into creating and maintaining herself. Kayla would would occasionally arch her back in and stick her ass out just a little bit more than the contour of her outfit normally revealed as she would walk through the halls, although she'd never admit to it. What's wrong with having both competence and sexiness?

Now though, Kayla wanted nothing more than to be passed over, ignored and left alone, a sobbing, inebriated and disheveled mess at a no-name bar in the middle of Chicago grieving in solitude.

Until her eyes turned to the untouched gin and tonic sitting in front of her, the image doubling, combining and doubling again. Her eyes followed the outline of the glass and followed the green lime wedge anchored on the rim gently curving upwards. She closed her eyes and thought back to her college days. Everything was so simple. No responsibilities other than class, tests and dodging hangovers with Gatorade and some hair of the dog the next morning. No expenses, no career to manage, no politics other than cross-hall banter, gossip and discovering who was sleeping with whom.

The ice cubes clinked together as the woman gently laid her hand across the glass; the cool wet condensation crept between her fingers. She recalled countless nights of Seagram's and the cheapest bulk tonic water she could find starting from her late teens. Lime-coated fire fueled parties until the sun came up; dance music pounded through cheap, shitty secondhand speakers in ramshackle apartments. Nameless, sweaty silhouettes of bodies pressed against hers on dance floors that were here one year, gone the next and reopened under new management the year afterwards. Sometimes she made it to bed with one of them, sometimes not. Sometimes she didn't remember for sure.

Kayla Hill picked up her drink and sipped. She would never forget Renee Sanders.

Renee lived two doors down from her in Kayla's sophomore year of college. She was somewhat shorter than Kayla at around 5'4 with bouncy red hair in a bob, with an hourglass figure complimenting a very generous ass and chest, even through the sweatshirt and loose-fitting jeans she was always fond of.

It wasn't Renee's body that stood out to her through, at least not initially. She had never really identified as being sexually attracted to women, even though she knew several of her friends possessed such inclinations. Not that she had needed to in order to appreciate it of course-everyone knows when puberty has been kind to someone regardless.

Her smile drew her in. How Renee almost squinted her eyes closed, arched her eyebrows and let the most genuine, enthusiastic ear-to-ear grin whenever she had something even mildly pleasant to say, or she wanted to share in yours. Her bubbly face lit up any room she was in.

Kayla continued to drink.

They shared one class together-Introduction to Spanish Literature, or something of that nature. It was an elective, that was for certain. Kayla was a Business major and Renee had chosen Biology. Such two different drastic academic pathways didn't leave much room for overlap, but serendipity had chosen. They had sat together for most of the semester, engaging in idle chit-chat about grades, boys, whatever bars had the cheapest mixed drink deals cross-referenced with the most lax ID policies, typical young adult college fare. There was one test though that neither one of them were terribly prepared for, and had agreed to abscond to one of their rooms for a study session later that evening.

Kayla's eyes quickly swept the bar. Various patrons had come and gone throughout her stay, and as the evening aged, only a few that she could potentially peg as regulars remained in their niches and alcoves; their forms faded into the background and became as much of the scenery as the wall of liquor bottles. She didn't know how long she had stayed, how many drinks she bought or even what time it was. She didn't care.

That evening they were sitting on the floor on some cushions with their textbooks open in front of them, index cards everywhere and pages of hastily-scribbled lecture notes cribbed together into something mildly comprehensible. Renee and Kayla had long since changed out of their afternoon clothes into long pants, t-shirts and panties for maximal lounge comfort. Well, only Kayla was wearing underwear.

"Honey, you good?" The bartender's half-serious question pulled her out of drunken sentiment.

"Uh, y-yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Kayla's voice had a clearer ring to it now that the tears had stopped, mild slurring notwithstanding. "Sorry, I'll cash out." God, I'm old, she winced as she heard the words leave her lips despite her being only in her mid-thirties.

"It's perfectly fine dear, just checking up on you." The bartender turned around to wash a glass and the memory let Kayla's gaze loosen and drift from her back downwards to take in an eyeful. Her light blue jeans fit perfectly around her round, firm ass. As she reached back and forth into various cabinets to rearrange glassware her eyes traced her butt's movements; it seems to jiggle every time she moved her hips.

The bartender's hand moving to the card rack brought Kayla back to reality and she almost stammered at nobody in particular, pulling her view back to her half-finished gin and tonic. Okay, that's it for me. Can't be doing that to the staff. Jesus, Kayla, what's wrong with you? Blood rushed to her face and she felt warm even on top of the inebriation. Fantastic ass though.

She deliberately avoided looking at the dollar amount on the check as she signed and tipped. That's the last thing she needed at this point. She wasn't broke-broke, luckily her deft handling of personal finances throughout her career had left her with a sizable emergency fund and investments that could be liquidated without too much hassle, but an expense like that on top of her current situation remained unpleasant. She closed her eyes and threw the remainder of her drink down her throat.

Luckily Kayla was cogent enough to fumble through her phone and arrange a rideshare without much trouble. She estimated the trip was about thirty minutes or so to her apartment building. And five minutes to arrive, after she had confirmed the ride. Moving forward, taking her frustrations out on her gym machine, putting out feelers through her professional network for any job leads, all of that could start tomorrow.

She spun herself around in her stool and laid her elbows back on the bar, pointed her gaze towards the entry double doors and closed her eyes. She remembered how light and soft her faux silk pajama bottoms felt on her bare legs that night and wondered at the time if Renee's cotton-wool leggings scratched and irritated her.

---Kayla had watched Renee's hair bounce when she laughed whenever any one of them got a flash card question wrong. It was unusually bright that evening; Renee had mentioned earlier that she was trying a new bend of shampoo and conditioner. Whenever Kayla's face passed within smelling distance, she was able to pick up a strong splash of strawberry.

Each girl debated their side of the case before conceding to whatever the textbook said. We almost came to 'blows' a couple of times over the most inane, pedantic shit' she recalled as a soft smile begin to form on her tear-stained, red face. But we always ended up laughing about it at the end.

She listened to Renee's voice shift from her typical soft, high-pitched, good natured tenor to an almost loud, deeper declaration whenever it came time for her to defend her wrong answers. She was so animated, driven and full of energy. Of life in general, regardless of the topic. Kayla was transfixed. She watched her closed eyes, her full lips spread and her opened mouth releasing one of the most beautiful sounds Kayla had ever heard.

During one particularly raucous moment Renee's chest bounced so much it was evident to her that she wasn't wearing a bra. Why would she be, anyway? It was late, she was inside and had zero inclination to impress or put on a 'look' for anyone. It as just a girls' night in, trying to up their test scores and hopefully, against all odds, have a little bit of fun in the process.

"Uh, Kayla? Eyes up here, girl." Renee's cocked eyebrow and comically-exaggerated look slowly clued Kayla in that her absent-minded gazing had moved to her tits. The color of her cheeks at that moment could have easily given her current, actual predicament a run for its money. She immediately threw her head down, grabbed a pillow and threw it on top of herself, desperately wishing a hole would open up underneath her to swallow her up.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry I...just zoned the fuck out there, I promise I wasn't staring at you or anything, I swear." Kayla barely got the words out of her mouth.---

Her phone buzzed in her purse-her ride had just arrived. Gathering her purse and jacket, Kayla removed herself from the bar stool and half leaned, half-pushed one of the heavy wooden doors open and ventured into the crisp, cool nighttime air. Luckily she was wearing flats that day. Come on girl, get it together.

A gray Lexus sedan was parked across the street from the bar bathed in a yellow glow from two streetlights. Puddles in the asphalt betrayed a previous rainstorm that evening; the downpourcame and went unnoticed by the bar patrons. Kayla hastily looked both ways and crossed the street. The May brisk air carried an additional breeze that brought goosebumps as soon as it her bare forearms. As she walked closer to the car, she realized that her nipples were basically poking through her bra and were prominently visible through her top. Kayla couldn't tell at first whether it was from the cold, her recollection in the bar or both.

Haphazardly throwing a hand over her chest to preserve her modesty, she quickly got the driver's attention and pulled herself into the rear seat.

"3497 Grenada Way?" The driver spoke with a thick New York accent.

"That's the one." Kayla rolled her head back in the seat, closed her eyes and sighed. She could feel the spice of the alcohol vapors on her breath. Holy fuck, I'm drunk. Renee's chest re-entered her mind as soon as her eyelids closed.

---The white and pink pajama shirt stretched over her. The gentle bounce from her breathing captivated her vision. Why am I so attracted to this girl? Why do I feel like this? Kayla remembered those two questions pounding into her hormone-saturated brain.

"I got an idea. Since you can't seem to look away, obviously, if you can get this next question right, I'll hike my shirt up."

Kayla was gobsmacked and struck silent, mouth agape.

"And don't even try to talk yourself out of this one, Miss Perv. Honestly, I never pegged you for it, but alright." Renee could barely keep herself together at Kayla's face. "Holy shit, relax, it's a joke!"

"Renee, don't fucking do that to people!" Kayla took a nearby pillow and smacked her in the head with it. She immediately fell backward onto a beanbag chair in the corner of the dorm room with her arms and legs splayed across it. "I could report you to the R.A. for sexual harassment, you know."

"Says the chick that just assaulted me."

Kayla's scarlet red face betrayed feelings other than simple annoyance.

"..Oh, Kayla, I'm so sorry." Renee's face immediately fell. "I have no idea, that was a complete fuck-up on my part." She sat up in the chair and peered into Kayla's eyes.

"I swear I'm not, I promise." Kayla regained a shred of her composure and took a big breath, trying her hardest, pleading even, to convince her body to drain the blush from her face as quickly as humanly possible. "My eyes were just wandering, my brain is just absolutely fried from all this bullshit studying."             

Renee's familiar and comforting spirit filled the void in her face the juvenile prank left behind.

"It's okay, girl." She cupped her boobs over her shirt and gave them a soft bounce. "I know they're nice."

"Don't make me hit you again."

Both girls immediately busted out laughing as the tension dispersed like an extinguished flame.---

Pulses of pale nothing flashed underneath Kayla's eyelids in a fast-paced interval. She remained sunken within the imitation leather's hold; her head lay cradled within the rear seat's headrest. She periodically reopened her eyes to see occasional splashes of red, orange and purple from overhead advertisements along the streets. She could taste the alcohol on her breath as she drifted in and out from recollection to reality and back again. Her breathing was deep and audible. With a quiet, heavy moan she unfastened the top three buttons of her top; she was desperate for some airflow across her upper chest, now slightly beaded with sweat.

"Renee..." Her voice trailed off. Her driver cast an eye backwards, unsure if it was Kayla's voice he heard or some unidentifiable noise from the vehicle's engine bay. His charge remained motionless; he returned his focus to the road ahead.

As she continued to reminisce, her legs unbuckled and slowly spread apart. Kayla sighed, and the tip of her middle finger pressed the merest bit on the topmost part of the cleft between them. The dual layers of panties and polyester prevented most actual sensation, but her body appreciated the sentiment. In her decreasing lucidity she barely noticed herself pressing down harder and begin to slowly rotate her prying digits.

---"I'm serious, I'm not into guys." Kayla reassured Renee during another lull in the studying.

"Heard you the first time, love." Renee dismissively waved a small bottle of vodka in her direction with about a quarter or so missing between the two of them; a slight slur now accompanied her voice.

Kayla couldn't remember if Renee had procured it from a generous upperclassman or if she had previously squirreled it away from the watchful eyes of the floor's R.A. She did know at some point that the vodka and a jug of cranberry juice had magically made its way into the study session during the night.

"That stuff's complicated, don't beat yourself up about it, girl."

"Fine, you can take it off if you want." Kayla finally blurted out. Her courage, emboldened by a couple of drinks, peeked through and overcome her troubled, conflicted feelings. "I don't mind. I promise I won't hit you."

"Don't mind so much you brought it up an hour later, huh?" Renee smirked and grasped the bottom hem of her top. The pale, pinkish hue of her skin peeked through as she slowly pulled her garment up to her bellybutton. Kayla gently bit her lower lip. It was almost subconscious how she barely even registered her own eyes following the shirt's travel up her friend's body.

Renee's breasts followed the pull of her shirt and with a stronger, final tug they escaped its grasp and dropped down to lay on her chest.---

"Alright, we're pulling up." Kayla stirred and immediately pulled her hand into the crook of her arm; her eyes opened fully as her apartment building came into view around the corner. The driver maneuvered in between a pickup truck and a black utility van as he parallel parked the sedan in a space about fifty feet from the front entrance on the street.

Kayla gave herself a quick patdown in her pants' limited pocket spaces, grabbed her purse and pulled herself from the vehicle.

"Fuck, I gotta get inside." The heat from between her legs radiated outwards with every step on the shimmering asphalt. Her stiff, thick nipples pressed against her bra and relayed every iota of contact sensation with the fabric to her horny, drunk brain. She threw her blazer over her chest to cover up and partially stumbled through her building's automatic doors.