More Than One World

(FF, bukkake, cons, dickgirl, oral, rom, snow)

(takes place right after the final season of Gilmore Girls)

Rory Gilmore looked out of the window of her hotel room at the dark and loveless night. It was almost one in the morning. She'd had a long tiring day, and she knew she had to get up at six a.m., and yet she still couldn't sleep. So she stood there at the window, all the lights in the room turned off except for the lamp on the night stand, which cast a soft and lonely glow, and stared outward, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. There was no one walking around out there, and only the occasional car passed by on the street. The city of Tacoma seemed to her not only asleep, but perhaps dead.

She'd only been in this town for the last twelve hours or so; she and her news crew had come from Olympia, on the trail of Senator Barack Obama as he made his historical campaign for President of the United States. He was scheduled to speak at ten o'clock, and then it was on to Seattle. Rory had known when she'd first signed on with the campaign six months ago that the pace would be grueling at times, but it had most often been even worse than she'd imagined. She would be on time, of course, and follow the candidate wherever he went, but in the meantime, she needed a break. A distraction of some sort. But it didn't look like Tacoma offered anything like that.

There has to be some kind of night life here, she told herself. I just have to put on my detective hat and go find it. She turned and looked at her hotel bed. Or I could just stay here, get out my trusty dildo, and masturbate to another fantasy of Barack. Have yet another Obamagasm. She smiled at her own little joke, then almost hurried over to the door, grabbed up her purse, and went out.

*****

The area she had been looking at from her window was south of the hotel, so Rory figured the smart thing to do would be to head north, away from the nothingness. The downtown core was in that direction anyway; it was much more likely that she'd find something there, a dingy old tavern if nothing else.

She walked for several blocks, past the closed trolley station, a vacant parking garage that took up two whole blocks, two more blocks of the deserted city bus depot. She didn't see any people and she didn't see any cars. At least until she finally arrived at Ninth Street and Commerce. This area, she'd been told, was the Theatre District, and she could indeed see a few theatres, one right there on the corner, another up the hill on the next.

There was traffic here too, mostly going up and down the hill on Ninth Street, but also turning onto the next street up. She could hear voices too, people yelling and laughing; she thought she could hear music as well. She crossed the street against the light and went up to the next street, which was named Broadway. She looked down Broadway toward the noise and was pleased to see a huge sign several hundred feet away, all lit up and dazzling in the night: The Silverstone. It was obviously a nightclub.

"Eureka," Rory said to herself.

She crossed Ninth Street and started down the sidewalk toward the Silverstone. She passed a coffee shop, some antique stores and gift shops, and, of course, some drunk people loitering near cars. They seemed to be an equal mix of men and women, all around her own age. They paid no attention to her other than to look her over as she passed.

When she got to the doorway of the Silverstone she found a very large and ominous-looking man standing there, his fat arms crossed in front of his fat chest. The bouncer, obviously. He too ignored her; he was watching the inebriated ones by the cars. Rory slipped past him and entered the club.

It was exactly the kind of scene she'd been expecting: lots of lights, loud music, a capacity crowd dancing and drinking and talking and laughing. Pure and yet paradoxically controlled pandemonium. It was awesome. This was exactly what she was looking for.

Except it wasn't exactly what she was looking for; she noticed, after about twenty seconds of wading through gyrating bodies and feeling her eardrums getting beat up by some unrecognized and remarkably loud 80s tune, that the people who were paired with other people were all paired with people of the same sex.

Uh oh, Rory thought to herself as she managed to squeeze through to a stool in front of the bar, I think I may have stumbled into a gay night club. She looked around for another moment or two; nothing but boy-boy couples and girl-girl couples. Yep. A gay night club. She shrugged. Oh well, what the heck? There's more than one world in this world.

She turned and faced front and looked for the bartender. Another beefy guy, as it turned out, and not very attractive, or even friendly. When she got his attention he just looked at her without any discernible facial expression. She asked him for a Budweiser and he handed her a bottle, then held his hand out for the money. He didn't tell her how much he wanted so she just gave him a ten. He took it, went to the cash register, and returned with a buck and a half in change.

"Jeez," Rory said, "that's some expensive booze." She'd said it loud enough that, if there hadn't been the musical equivalent of Armegeddon going on all around her, he would have easily heard. Rory sighed and sipped at her beer; at least it was cold and tasty.

"Having any fun yet?" someone called to her over the music.

Rory turned and saw a girl sliding onto the stool next to hers. She wasn't exactly pretty; more cute than pretty, with a round face, a tiny nose, small green eyes. Her hair was kind of a dull orange, parted in the middle and tied into a ponytail that only reached to a spot between her shoulder blades. She was slim but not skinny, and well-shaped from what Rory could notice at a glance. Nice rack, too. She had a big friendly grin on her face and Rory couldn't help but smile back.

"I just got here," she said, leaning toward the girl and raising her voice a little to be heard.

"I've never seen you in here before!" the girl called back. "Are you new?!"

"Just passing through town!" Rory called.

The music suddenly got even louder and the girl made a face, then nearly shouted, "Let's go outside so we can hear each other!"

Rory grabbed her beer and her purse and followed the girl through the mob and, finally, outside. Once the door to the club was closed it seemed almost ominously quiet. The bouncer was gone, and so was the group of drunks. Rory's ears were ringing. The girl turned to her, smiled, and held out her hand.

"My name's Christine," she said. "'What's yours?"

Rory took her hand and said, "I'm Rory. Hi."

"Rory. That's a cool name. It's Scottish for 'red.' You don't look very red to me, though. Is it short for something?"

"My name's actually Loreli. When I was little my mom wanted to call me Lori, but I couldn't pronounce the Ls correctly and it came out Rory." Rory shrugged. "It stuck."

"Loreli," Christine said a little dreamily. "A siren's name. In German it means 'an alluring song.' " She gave Rory a flirtatious look. "It fits."

"You sure do know names, Christine. What does Barack mean?"

"Ironically, it means 'white one.' Why, are you a fan of his?"

"Who isn't?" Rory replied. "If I had my way, I'd..." She shut her mouth with an almost audible sound, then said, "Sorry."

"No, no, go ahead," Christine told her. "What would you do if you had your way?"

Rory blushed under the soft sodium glow of the streetlight.

"Well," she said, "let's just say that, if I had my way, he would have his way. And, to be politically incorrect and crude and risk sounding like a racist, he'd have it in spades."

Christine laughed, a light charming sound that made Rory laugh too.

"I know, I'm bad," she said.

"What bad?" Christine said with a shrug. "So you're into a handsome, hunky black guy. There's nothing wrong with that. And if you're gonna dig black guys, he's definitely the one to dig." She tilted her head slightly. "Have you ever made it with a black guy?"

"No, but it's one of my fondest fantasies. One I actually plan to act out one of these days. Probably not with Senator Obama, but, you know."

"Hey, he'd be a fool to turn you down, even if it would be political suicide."

"Aw, thanks," Rory said. "I think." She paused thoughtfully. "I'm kind of surprised, though."

"Cool," Christine said. "What are you surprised about?"

"Well, that you would be into guys. I mean, this place," Rory waved a hand in the direction of the night club, "is a gay place, right?"

"Sure is. But what makes you think I'm only into guys?"

"Oh, right. I guess I hadn't thought of that."

"Are you only into guys, Loreli? Cause if you are, I guess I could be wondering what you're doing here."

Rory shrugged and said, "This was the only place that I could find that was open. But, you know, I could be...well, I am straight, but...well...I guess I could be, you know, interested. In...you know..."

"In me?" Christine asked, suddenly yet casually moving very close. She put her hands on Rory's hips and nearly touched noses with her. She was about two inches taller than Rory and had to look down at her. Rory had to look up, and as she did she could feel Christine's big firm boobs barely brushing against hers. She also realized she was kind of holding her breath a little.

"I guess so," she said. "I mean...I guess so."

"I think it would be awesome," Christine said. Now she did touch her nose to Rory's, and then she kissed her, lightly, on the lips. "Wanna come home with me?"

"Actually, I should be getting back to my hotel room. I've got a big day tomorrow."

"Okay, we'll go to your place."

"That's not exactly what I meant..." Rory said, but Christine already had her by the hand and was leading her down the sidewalk, away from the night club.

"Where we going, Loreli?" she asked, but she seemed to not even hear when Rory said, "Well, we're obviously not going straight."

*****

Christine chattered most of the way back to Rory's hotel room; she was a cartoonist, she said, working for an advertising firm, but she only did that for a money job, her "real fun" was drawing adult cartoons for the internet. She could draw just about anything, but mostly she preferred popular Disney characters or dickgirls.

"Dickgirls?" Rory had gotten that word in edgewise.

"Yeah, you know, chicks with dicks. Not transsexuals, mind you, not people who used to be girls and are now guys, or guys who are getting hormone shots. I mean, women who are totally women, they have wombs and real tits and everything, they just have dicks instead of pussies. And before you even say it," Christine held up her hand in front of Rory's face like a traffic cop, "I know, it's weirdness to draw stuff like that, but hey, people draw pictures of full grown men in multi-colored bodysuits and masks all the time and nobody seems to think that's weird. And don't ask me why, either, it's really an ancient question."

While Christine went on with the details of her cartooning, Rory considered her situation: she was on the way back to a hotel, in a strange city, with a really talkative girl who'd already made it clear that she expected (or at least hoped for...no, expected) sex. Lesbian sex. Of course, Rory wasn't entirely adverse to the idea; she'd never actually had lesbian sex with anybody, but she'd certainly done her share of experimenting in her life: there was that time when she was seven and eight, when she and her friends Ellen and Linnie had all shown each other their hootchies and curiously touched each other; the time when she was twelve and she and her best friend Laura had made out in bed one night during a sleepover (it was mostly Laura's idea, and all they'd really done was french kiss and fondle each other's boobs); and of course, who could forget the many times she'd slept in the same bed with Paris, especially after she'd had a lot to drink, and let her college friend kiss her and dry hump her? So yes, Rory Gilmore had traveled on at least a side road that ran along the same route as the Lesbian Highway, even if she hadn't actually gone down that mysterious boulevard. But was she willing to make that trip now? It was a sure bet that Christine wasn't going to settle for anything less, and while Rory knew she was leaving Tacoma tomorrow and would most likely never see this girl again, it still went against her grain to disappoint someone who was so honestly interested in her. Rory was a people pleaser. But was she also the type of girl who could do a one night stand with another girl? Another guy, sure, she'd done that plenty of times since she'd started following Senator Obama's campaign. Actually, in that regard, she was a little bit of a slut. But this was different. This was a life choice.

They'd reached the front door of the hotel and Rory decided to just let whatever would happen, happen. Let her clothes fall where they may.

She led Christine inside, through the lobby and to the elevators. Christine continued to talk, holding forth now on the amazing things she expected to happen if Barack Obama should get elected President. But by the time they reached the top floor she was already onto another, though related, topic.

"How big do you think his dick is?" she asked. "I bet it's massive. I bet Michelle cried like a burn victim on her wedding night. I bet she sucks it too. She looks like a woman who would suck dick with a ton of skill. And she's so beautiful, with her dark skin. Can you imagine what she'd look like with come all over her face?"

"This is my room," Rory managed to interject, stopping in front of a door with the number 420 on it.

Christine laughed and said, "Four twenty, that's funny." She gave Rory a surprised look. "Hey, I'm a poet."

"Your gifts never seem to end," Rory said.

She unlocked the door and led Christine into her hotel room. Christine went on talking as she made her way over to the double bed. She plopped down onto it, still jabbering, while Rory went to the mini-bar and poured two glasses of wine. She brought them over to the bed, handed one to Christine, then stood by the side of the bed and sipped hers.

"Don't get me wrong," Christine was saying, "I totally dig Hillary Clinton, and in a way I'd like to see her get the nomination even more than I do Barack. First woman President and all that. But I think we need some new blood in the White House."

"Some new sexy African-American blood," Rory said, sort of surprising herself. "Not that that's why I'm with his press corps. I honestly believe in the things Senator Obama is saying about the direction our country needs to take. But I guess I feel the same way you do. I mean, about getting someone new in Washington. And as long as whoever we elect isn't just another George W. Bush crony-"

"Woah, hold on, luscious," Christine said, doing the traffic cop thing again, "I'm gonna stop you right there."

"Why?" Rory asked. "Are you a closet Bushie?"

"Of course not. At least, not in the political sense. But, you know, Dubbya is our President, and deserves to be treated with a certain amount of respect. I mean, it's not like he's an evil guy, or anything, he's honestly trying to do his best for our country."

"You'd like to suck him off too, wouldn't you?"

Instead of answering, Christine took a long drink of her wine. Then she said, "You know, Loreli, I'm really getting tired of you always drawing me into these long political discussions. What say we forget about politics and make out?"

Rory shrugged and, surprising herself again, said, "Okay by me."

She got onto the bed and Christine moved over a bit to make room for her. They sat facing each other, their legs tucked under them. Rory waited for Christine to make the first move and Christine showed absolutely no reluctance in taking the lead. She brought her hands up and touched the sides of Rory's face as she leaned closer. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes half-closed, just as she'd done in front of the Silverstone. Rory closed her eyes too, and in the next moment she felt Christine's lips once again touching her own. They pressed gently but firmly, and Rory heard herself make a satisfied murmuring sound through her nose. Then she felt Christine's tongue and she parted her lips. The soft wet thing pushed confidently into Rory's mouth, began exploring, while one of Christine's hands lighted on Rory's left breast. Rory automatically brought her own hand up, wrapped her fingers around Christine's wrist, but she didn't pull the girl's hand away. Instead, she murmured again, and accepted the fact that she was going to be having a lesbian experience after all.

Christine's other hand found its way to the small of Rory's back, and in the next moment she was turning Rory's body slightly and guiding her down onto the bed. Rory went with it, falling gently onto her back, her dark hair spilling all about her head. Christine lay on top of her, nudged her legs apart and settled herself between them. She was still kissing her, pushing her tongue in and out of her mouth, while her hands worked to get Rory's blouse unbuttoned. Rory tried to help her but Christine just lightly batted her hands away, so she settled for wrapping her arms around Christine and caressing her back.

She turned her face to the side, her eyes still closed, and let Christine kiss her cheek as she got the buttons undone. Then Christine began fumbling with the clasp on her bra; fortunately it fastened in the front, so all she had to do was get the cups apart, which proved to be a fairly simple thing for her. As soon as Rory's bra was open and her smallish breasts were bared Christine had her hands on them, cupping and caressing them. Rory slid her own hands up under Christine's shirt, moving her fingers over Christine's smooth warm skin.

Okay, she thought to herself, this isn't so bad. In fact, it's pretty awesome. Much better than those crazy fumblings and humpings with Paris.

Christine moved her lips down to Rory's breasts and began kissing them. She took one of her nipples between her lips and gently sucked on it, sending a rocket of pleasure shooting through Rory's body.

Oh man, Rory thought, I could really get into this. I might actually like being a lez.

At the same time that she sucked on Rory's breasts Christine sent one hand down to the fly on Rory's pants, deftly unfastened the button, then slid her hand down inside. She maneuvered her fingers under the waistband of Rory's underwear, then down through her pubic hair until she found the girl's pussy lips. She touched her gently, almost tentatively, sliding her fingers through her hair and between her lips as she continued to tease Rory's nipples.

"Oh," Rory murmured, feeling a warm glowing sensation spread through her body. She closed her eyes and sighed, and a small smile played on her thin lips. She was still caressing Christine's back, but now she brought her hands up and began to run her fingers through the girl's bright orange hair. It was a lot softer and silkier than she'd expected.

Christine continued to work on Rory for another minute or so, then abruptly stopped and got up on her knees. She almost yanked at Rory's pants, pulling them, along with her underwear, down to her thighs. Rory tried to sit up to help her out but Christine wordlessly put her hand on Rory's forehead and, gently, pushed her back down; she could do this by herself. She switched to Rory's shoes and socks, got them off quickly, then returned to her pants and underwear, which also came off in something close to record time. Then Christine pulled off her own top, revealing the most remarkable breasts Rory Gilmore had ever seen.

"Holy headlights, Batman," she said, her eyes wide. "Your boobs are, like, perfect."

"Naw, not really," Christine said, feigning bashfulness. She cupped her breasts in her hands, caressed them lightly. "They are pretty nice, though. If I do say so myself."