L'esprit de l'escalier

I went to St. Antony's school for the Deaf and Mute. Not because I was either of the two, but because it was a dormitory school in the middle of nowhere, and my father happened to work there. That was kind of how my life went, you see; I was the kind who was found stepping in dog poop, tripping over nothing, and being put in the worst school possible for a person like me.

You see, I'm a talkative person. I will yap all day long if allowed to. And this place? Even the hallways are quiet, and the people quieter still. Sure, I could chat in sign language, I am fluent... but the students don't quite like me. I can understand why. "Why the hell is this stupid normal girl in our school? She doesn't fit in whatsoever. She should just leave." That's how it'd been, all my school life; and seeing as I was now a legal adult (18, woo!) and a senior, that had been a long time.

That said, like any school, there were other kids that didn't fit in, either. I was talking to one at the moment, so it happens.

"Why won't you talk?"

It was a simple enough question, but Harriet apparently wanted nothing to do with me. She sped up, but I hurried along beside her. Other students glared as we passed by.

"I know you can hear me." I told her. "And I know it isn't physical."

She glared at me as we turned the corner. I took this as a license I was right. "I know, because you won't even try to learn sign language. You're in the still beginners class after a year. My dad says you could learn, if you wanted to," I said, smirking, "But you don't, do you?"

She frowned sharply, giving me a nod. It wasn't one of those hesitant "yes, you've found out all my secrets" nods, however. It was plainly a curt, "right so far, captain obvious" nod. One gets really good at body language in this type of environment. I sighed and followed her into our dorm.

Harriet was a new student here, the same age as me. She had shown up about a year ago, in the middle of the semester. Her complete lack of sign language skills left her as a total outcast, seeing as she couldn't communicate with anyone. Quite like me, she was considered a novelty – because she was a genius, probably. Unlike me, however, she wasn't resented. She was a tall, almost plain looking girl; her hair was that stereotypically brown and her face was covered in freckles. Still, there was something gorgeous about her – her elegant facial structure, maybe, or the curve of her breasts. She wasn't a DD or anything, but she definitely had something good there.

Not to be creepy, or anything. I have some pretty nice knockers too, and a pretty face to go along with it. As a member of the Busty Blond organization, in any other school men would be crawling all over me. But it wasn't destined to be. I wasted my sexual life away in dorms with other girls, bothering them to hide my own sexual frustration. Or something like that. I've just been told I'm annoying a lot, and I think that might just be the reason.

"It's got to be emotional." I theorized, sitting on the bed. Harriet walked over to the desk in the corner of the room and began unpacking her homework and books. "You're taking a vow of silence... that, or something left you so horrorstruck you won't even speak anymore."

She paused at her task for a brief moment before continuing. I smirked. "GOTCHA! I saw that. It's a trauma related thing, right?" I liked psychology, so this was my thing. Bouncing on my butt, I tried to remember the name of it. I knew there was one, but it slipped through my grasp.

She nodded once, and sat in her chair as calm as ever. She was facing away from me, which was displeasing, so I walked over to her and sat on her desk ever-so-obnoxiously. "So what happened?" I asked. "Were you raped?"

She shook her head.

"Murdered?"

She gave me a look that clearly said "What the fuck." I giggled.

"Heartbroken?" I whispered, leaning in closer. A faint blush came to her cheeks – amusing. She turned away and nodded shortly.

"By a boy, no doubt." I said, pulling back. Blushing was a weird reaction, in retrospect. I should have seen the signs, but beyond my crazy demeanor I was honestly a sheltered little thing. She shook her head.

"Hmm. Your family, then. Father?"

No.

"Mother?"

No.

"Brother, sister?"

No, no.

"Oh come on, you've got to tell me!" I whined, becoming frustrated. I leaned in close again to whisper in her ear. "If you don't tell me, I'll have to kiss it out of you..."

She paused, as if deliberating – hopefully, deliberating telling me. She leaned back from me with a smile on her face and showed me a very clear signal; not sign language, but general hand singal.

One finger out, then curl. Come over here and bring it, it said. I swallowed. I hadn't expected to have to follow up on my threat. Usually, the idea of Sapphic conduct made girls cringe in fear and spill, generally in frantic sign language... this was a new one.

I really wasn't up for this. If I do it, it's just another kiss gone, I thought. But if I don't, I'm a coward.

Sure, I had been kissed before – a few times, even, at summer camp, by immature boys who had no idea what they were doing. It was an uncomfortable experience, and not one I was terribly fond of repeating. But, just for pride's sake...

I leaned in and tried to plant a gentle kiss on her cheeks, only to be grabbed by the back of the head and pushed against her lips. Her tongue easily slipped into my mouth and began wrestling against mine, the feeling warm and soft. I was startled, but my body responded well without me, returning the favor and wrapping my arms around her. It felt much better than kissing a boy. Her kiss was somewhat harsh, yes, but she tasted like peaches, not grease, and her tongue was gentle and engaging. I could feel my body begin to heat.

This was definitely not how I planned it.

She let go of me and broke away, her lips shining with a mix of our saliva. I suddenly realized I had ended up on her lap, blushing furiously. Harriet was, judging from expressions, incredibly pleased with herself.

"I don't... um... usually do that, so, um..." I babbled. She smirked – that jerk, I was the one who smirked around here – and pointed to the bed.

"What about the bed?"

She brushed her hand against my breasts gently.

"R-right, the bed."

With little imput from me, she walked me over to the bed and pushed me down on it, trapping me in another kiss, this time more desperate and hot than the last. Her large hands crept under my shirt to my breasts, caressing them and rubbing at my nipples. I, not having full control at the moment, whimpered into her mouth like a virgin. I could feel my panties cling to me under my skirt with juices, a sign I was, for all intents and purposes, totally screwed.

With a final squeeze of my breast, she moved to her obvious real target; she pulled down my skirt and panties in one fell swoop. My heart thudded. Experience I had plenty, but not past second base. Uncaring and totally in charge at the moment, she began rubbing her fingers along my slit. I moaned, of all things, and I felt my knees buckle. She was totally stealing my thunder here, but I was not exactly in the position to protest.

Her fingers began rubbing gently at my clit, which only lead to more characteristic moaning. At that point, I was beginning to lose all sense of time and space, only concentrating on how fucking good she was with her hands, running those long gentle fingers over me mercilessly. My breath came in gasps, and my vision was blurry – it took me a second to realize she removed my glasses.

"Hey," I murmured. She used this distraction to move those pianists fingers away from my clit and penetrated me, elicting a short squeak. I had always expected such things to hurt – not that I ever imagined a girl doing it – but apparently I was sufficiently wet, because she slipped in easily. Inside, she rolled them around, pushing against the walls of my vagina roughly. I began losing even the ability for snark, making all sorts of noises I didn't even know I could make. Taking amusement and pleasure in my reactions, she pushed them farther inside and began rubbing against one certain spot. I presumed this spot was my G-spot, because it made me clamp down harder on her fingers. I could feel my orgasm steadily inside of me, a fact that wasn't lost on her.

"Cum for me," she whispered, in the tiniest voice in my ear. That was enough for me; my body unhesitatingly complied. I started to scream, but she blocked it off with another heavy kiss until the noise presided, leaving me tired and utterly spent on the bed. Harriet calmly pulled my skirt and panties up, and sat back down at the desk, licking her fingers.

Awkward.

I sat up, furiously trying to straighten my hair and look presentable. "Um. How about I, um, get us some soda, or something?"

She nodded, and I rushed off.

The hallway air felt cold against my legs and crotch as I walked to the machine. I didn't know what soda she'd like, but I picked one anyway, wondering what the hell had just happened. I kissed her, I think, and she had shoved me down... and then we –

I dropped the drinks.

"A GIRL BROKE HER HEART!" I announced loudly, feeling quite accomplished.

The next revelation came a second later. "WAIT, SHE JUST –"

I never claimed to be a smart one.