Not a Saint

This is my entry for the monthly Love the One You're With contest. If you like it, please vote and feel free to comment. Thanks!

Act One: A Madonna Seduces

I slammed the door to my apartment in frustration and shouted, "Jesus Christ, what do I have to do to get laid?!" It was Saturday evening, just after dinner. I'd just come home from another "play date" with Craig, I guy I really like who apparently sees me as, what? A sister? No, I don't think it's that bad. But I seem to be firmly in the friend zone despite my best attempts to drop hints that I'd like to move things in a more intimate direction.

Craig had moved to town early last year to take a job with the city health department. He had the enormous bad fortune to arrive about two weeks before the pandemic swept over the world. I met him at church once before everything shut down, and took an interest in him immediately. He's kind of quiet, maybe even a little shy like me. He's also tall, slender, maybe not the most handsome man around, but cute. And we have a lot of interests in common, too. We do a lot of the same activities for fun. We're both active in church and other volunteering. I'm also interested in health, although on a much more one to one basis. I'm a nurse at a nearby pediatrician's office.

We continued to see each other on Zoom when our church started to have remote programs and services in order to keep the community together as much as possible when we couldn't physically be together. He mentioned at one point that he was living alone, working from home, and really appreciated the chance to connect with people remotely since he didn't know anyone in town. I asked if he'd like to chat one on one sometime, in part because I felt bad for him, and in part because, you know, he's adorable. He readily agreed.

Being in public health, he's acutely aware of all the CDC guidelines and adheres to them as much as he can. Late last summer I mentioned that I have top notch personal protective equipment at work and get tested at least once a week (you can't have parents of patients being nervous about coming to the doctor for care), and after giving it some thought, he asked if I'd like to come over to his place to hang out. I happily agreed, and have been over there a couple of times a week ever since. We've been watching movies, bingeing streaming shows, playing Scrabble, card games, getting takeout for dinner and generally enjoying each other's company. It's what passes for dating when you can't go out to do, well, just about anything.

At some point I really started to think of him as my boyfriend, and I've been trying to drop hints that I'd be open to doing more than just hang out the way we've been. I've initiated more and more physical contact, progressing from touching his arm to long hugs hello and good-bye to where I've even brushed my tits up against him on a regular basis, but apparently he's really dense. Or maybe I have no talent for dropping hints. That would make sense. I grew up in a small town in a very conservative family. I never came close to having sex in high school, and have only been with one guy since - a boyfriend in college who I kicked to the curb after we dated for about a year. So, maybe I have no 'game' as they say.

My looks don't help either. I'm 5'3", and on my best day I've been called adorable. I have a decent body, I guess. I wear 34C bras, so my tits aren't huge, but big enough considering my height. I've got decent curves below them too. But I have rosy cheeks and freckles that I thought were a lot cuter before I hit puberty. I also have a high, sometimes squeaky voice. I think the fact that I come across as childlike helps my patients relate to me. The downside is that I sometimes have a hard time getting a guy not to think of me as attractive, rather than 'cute' or 'adorable' when I want him to. Like now.

At the sound of my rather loud entrance, my apartment mate and best friend Beth responded sweetly, "Language, dear! Did your date not go as you'd hoped?" She was trying to be funny by adopting a motherly tone which I just wasn't in the mood for at the moment.

Even when she's being annoying, though, I love Beth. We've known each other since kindergarten, and have been close ever since. When the world isn't upside down, she works in the crew of the big theater downtown doing all sorts of stuff -- makeup, costumes, set construction, whatever they need. She also does some waitressing on the side in order to make ends meet. She had an apartment in town with some of her theater friends. When the theater shut down along with all the dining out, her roommates all went home to live with their parents. That wasn't an option for Beth. For a while in high school, I was the only person who knew she was gay. It turns out that it was a smart move for her to stay in the closet for as long as she could stand it. Her parents kicked her out when she told them.

So, when her life blew up last spring along with the rest of the world, I immediately offered to let her crash with me for as long as she needed. I could hardly have done anything else. That's what friends are for, as I've had to tell her about a million times since she moved in. I can afford my own expenses including rent and utilities, and the money she's been able to get through unemployment benefits has been enough to cover her personal expenses, like food and such. Other than being a little stir crazy with not having anything to do or anywhere to go, she's been doing all right through the months that we've all been living through this. She decided that she would take care of the place, doing the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and so on while I was out playing the part of breadwinner. We like to joke that we're almost exactly like a young married couple from the 1950s. Almost.

In response to her question, I started to vent my frustration. "Didn't go as I'd hoped? No, my date didn't go as I'd hoped! I don't know what I have to do to get out of this rut! All he ever wants to do is hang out as friends, and I can't get him to see me any other way!"

"Becky, we've had this discussion a dozen times. You know, the whole Madonna/whore thing? Once a guy sees you as a nice girl, it's tough to get him to treat you like you're not. When are you going to just tell him what you want?"

"Yes, we've had this discussion, Beth! You know I can't just throw myself at him. If he rejected me, I'd never get over the embarrassment! I just can't put myself out there like you can!"

"Yeah, well, (A) I went through a lot in order to be my true self, and you know it. I can't imagine why you wouldn't be willing to do it when it wouldn't cost you nearly as much. And (B) you cannot keep going on like this! You have to put yourself out there at least a little bit more than you have been. Watching the two of you makes me wonder how shyness hasn't been bred from humanity. It's amazing that people like you ever find a mate!"

I slumped down on the couch and let out a deep, disgusted sigh. "I know, I know! But how? I'm just not comfortable offering him my body right out of the blue!"

"Right. Terminally shy. I get it." We sat there for a minute or two in silence. Then Beth got a glint in her eye and said, "Hey, Madonna, you want him to treat you like a whore? And you're not comfortable saying so? What if it wasn't you that was telling him?"

"What in heaven's name are you talking about? Are you going to tell him? How do you picture things progressing from you having that conversation to me being in bed with him? That would be even more awkward than me telling him myself! And you're the only other person who knows how I feel!"

"No, no, no. No way would I insert myself into that conversation! But what if you weren't you? What if we made up a part for you to play? Someone who acts more like the slut he must fantasize about?"

I could tell that Beth's creative juices were starting to flow.

She continued as she built up a head of steam, "Here's your part. You're not you, you're your sister. Your name is, ummmm, Morgan. Yeah, that seems right. And you're . . . applying for a job as Craig's personal assistant. It's down to you and one other girl, and you're trying to close the deal. You want to make it clear that you will meet ALL of his needs."

"Okay great, so what, I'm just supposed to show up for the 'interview' and throw myself at him? That's a complicated way of getting me right back to square one."

"Yeah, that's true. Nuts. Let me think about this. Do you want some tea?"

"Yeah, sure," I said dejectedly. That'd be nice I guess."

Beth came back a few minutes later with two mugs, a pot of tea, and an idea.

"So, you need a way to 'throw yourself at him' as you put it, but you're afraid of embarrassing yourself. Would it help if you weren't in the room? That way if he isn't into it, at least you wouldn't have to extricate yourself from the scene. And if you were 'Morgan' instead of yourself, it would add a layer of separation from your true self and the potential for serious embarrassment? You might even be able to claim that you were extremely drunk and get back into the friend zone if that's really what you want."

I was puzzled. "Okay, it might, I guess. But you're talking in riddles. How would I do all that? I can see you have an idea in mind. Spill it, sister."

"First, do you trust Craig to be discreet?"

"Of course. He's a total sweetie."

"Okay, so here's the plan. We're going to get you dressed up as Morgan, and you're going to send him some seriously X-rated pictures. He's going to be so hard for you before he even gets a chance to say no that I bet he never would!"

"Sexting? Are you nuts?"

"No, I'm not nuts! I know sexting is normally a stupid idea, but that's only because you normally can't trust a guy. If you really, truly believe that Craig would never take the pictures and post them on the internet, then this idea checks all the boxes. And getting back to the original point, Becky, you CANNOT just stay in this holding pattern. It's starting to tear you up inside."

I sat and sipped my tea quietly for a minute while I thought about it, and finally said under my breath, "Sure, what the hell?"

"What was that?", Beth asked. "I couldn't hear you."

In a louder voice I responded "I said, sure why not? All I have to lose is my dignity."

Beth squealed, "Yay!" and then continued, "all right, we need a costume for Morgan that will blow Craig's mind. And makeup, definitely makeup! And a new hairdo! This will be fun!"

"Oh sure. Fun for you. You get to be the crew for this little bit of theater. I, on the other hand, can feel my guts starting to churn."

We walked back toward our bedrooms, but when I started to turn towards mine, Beth said, "Oh no you don't. Nothing you own will work for this part. You don't have a single piece of revealing clothing! It's a good thing we're the same size. Let's go look at my wardrobe. Oh, wait. We might need something from your room. You're not wearing granny panties, are you?"

"No, of course not! Every time I've gone over there for the last few months, I've made sure I was neatly trimmed and wearing something hot. I've been hoping every time that he'd want to see it. I've built up a heck of a lingerie collection!"

"Oh? And what's today's selection?"

"Hot pink, satin, push-up bra with black lace trim, and matching panties that angle down in the middle, pointing toward where I want him to go."

"Oh, lordie, I think my heart just skipped a beat! You're going to get me all hot and bothered, I can just tell."

"Yeah, well, getting my gay girlfriend hot isn't my goal, is it? I hope Craig's heart will skip a beat too."

"It will if I have anything to say about it."

Beth started to rummage around in her closet, and pulled out a low-cut white blouse that was tight around the waist, and a short skirt.

"This will be perfect. Easy access skirt, and with that push up bra he'll be able to see straight down some serious cleavage. Maybe even see some nipple?"

"Oh, yes, I suspect so!"

The thought of Craig staring down at my tits and getting hard for me started to move the nervous feeling in my stomach down to warm my pussy. I smiled a little as I felt my juices starting to flow.

"All right, Becky, darling. Strip!"

"Yes dear!" I said as I giggled.

I tried to ignore the fact that Beth was staring at me as I got down to my lingerie while changing into Morgan's outfit. After I got the costume on and saw myself in the mirror, I started to get into the part. No way would I ever wear something this slutty! You could see a hint of the black lace trim around hot pink bra under the blouse, but I doubted Craig would notice, since he'd be staring at my tits. The lower parts of my breasts were pressed up hard against the blouse, while the tops were practically hanging out. Or maybe he'd be staring at my ass, which looked great in this tight skirt which didn't even reach down to mid-thigh.

Beth admired her costume selection, and probably the way I modeled it, and then said, "Okay, hair and makeup next. We've got to downplay those Pippi Longstocking features."

She sat me down at her desk, got out her makeup kit, pulled up a chair and got to work. When she was done and I looked in the mirror, I could see the transformation was complete. No more freckles. No more rosy cheeks. And my hair was up in a tight bun. With the pair of fake glasses, I looked very professional, at least from the neck up.

"Beth, you're very good at your job!

"Thank you, sweetie. I'm glad you approve. All right, picture time! Let's build up to the money shot. The first one should be slutty, but fully clothed. Sit up on the desk, cross your legs at the ankles with your knees apart. Yes, that's perfect. I've got a clear shot of your panties."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I responded. But as I spread my legs, I could feel my pussy getting wetter at the thought of Craig finally getting a good look.

Beth adjusted her floor lamp so that the lighting was good, and <click> <click> took a couple of shots on her phone. When she looked at them, she said, "Perfect. All right let's see. What next? Umm, I think a shot down your blouse from the perspective he'd have if you two were standing close to each other."

Beth's excitement was infectious, and I was really starting to get into this, as aroused as I was getting. I jumped down from the desk, Beth kneeled on the chair so that she was looking down from maybe a foot over my head. She said, "Okay, look right into the camera with big innocent eyes. <click> <click> Good, good! All right, what's next?"

"I don't know, you're the director of this show!"

"Okay, I have an idea, but I'm not sure you're going to like it."

"I wouldn't have thought I'd like any of this, but I'm kind of getting into it. What are you thinking?"

"Well, I think Morgan would be open to being spanked if her job performance wasn't up to expectations. How do you feel about that?"

"Spanking? I haven't been spanked since I was a kid. I don't think I'm into pain."

"Well, personally speaking, if I'm turned on, getting spanked kind of gets me even hotter. Why don't we test it out? Keep in mind, you're Morgan, not Becky. Morgan is up for anything. In fact, she likes it rough!"

"Morgan. Right. I think I need a drink first."

"If it'll help you relax, then sure. But remember, the goal is for you to drive over there in just a little while. One drink, and then you're either in or out."

Beth jumped up, and went to the kitchen to get a couple of shots. I sat there stewing in my thoughts. It took me a couple minutes, but I decided that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. If Morgan likes it rough, then let's go all the way. Maybe I'll like it too?

Beth returned with two shots of vodka, and asked, "What are we toasting to?"

"To Morgan!" I replied.

"To Morgan!" she shouted, and we both downed our drinks.

"All right girl, are you in or out?"

"All in," I replied, which brought a big smile to Beth's face.

"Excellent! This is going to be so hot! Time to assume the position. Bend over the desk, pull your panties down to your thighs and pull the skirt to your waist. Then put both palms down on the desk on either side of my laptop."

"Yes, mistress!"

Beth snorted, and said, "Mistress? Okay, I guess I get a role in this play. Nice touch, Becky."

"Morgan," I corrected her.

Then she smacked my ass really hard ten quick times. The rapid percussive sound filled her bedroom. I shouted, "Ow!"

"No, no, no. Morgan would maintain control of herself. Picture Craig standing behind you staring at your pretty little butt and pussy, getting rock hard for you as he smacks you. You're getting the spanking, but as the blood flows from his big head to his little one, you're really the one in control of the situation."

Imagining being so close to having Craig inside me really got my juices flowing again.

"Are you good with this?" Beth asked. "Do we need to skip the spanking?"

"No, do it again. I want to get it right."

"Good girl!" And she swatted me ten more times. This time I took it like a pro. I winced at first, but Craig would never see that.

<click> <click> "Nice! That is really hot!" Becky showed me the pictures of my slightly pink cheeks. With my pale skin, it didn't take much to give them some color. I agreed the pictures were good, but said, "Let's get a couple more with me in that position, but looking back at the camera into his eyes."

"Ooooh, good idea!"

I got back into position, but looked back at the camera, trying to appear as sultry as possible.

<click> <click> "Oh, yeah! That is definitely better! All right, now for the money shot."

"What, that wasn't it?"

"No, I want one on your back on the bed with your pussy spread wide. Even better if I eat it out first. It's so pretty when it's fully bloomed!"

If you would have asked me a year ago where Beth and I were on a scale of 1-10, where 1 is totally, completely, unquestionably straight, 5-6 is pure bi-sexual, and 10 is completely gay, I'd have told you Beth was a 10 and I was a 1. It turns out I'm somewhere more like a 2-3. I learned this about myself last Memorial Day weekend, about two months into the pandemic. Beth and I were getting absolutely drunk out of our minds, and complaining about missing going out, being with other adults, and wondering when life would get back to normal.

At some point Beth, slurring her words, said, "You know I love you and I'd do anything for you, right? If you hadn't taken me in, I don't know what would have happened. I owe you my life!"

I rolled my eyes. I don't know how many times I had to tell her that I couldn't have done anything else when my best friend was in that situation. And her gushing over me made me uncomfortable. But I wasn't in the mood to argue with her about it. We were having too much fun.

My words were just as slurred when I said, "Anything, huh? You can't give me a big cock, can you?"

She literally did a spit take at that and we both busted out laughing. Then she surprised me by saying, "No, no I can't give you big cock. But I could give you a hell of an orgasm!"

Wait, what?

"Umm, Beth, you know I love you, but not like that!"

"Oh, honey, I don't like you like that either. You're not my type at all. You know, because you're straight. But even though we're just friends, it doesn't mean there can't be benefits. Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. The tongue is a muscle, and mine hasn't had a workout in months. I'm afraid I'll lose my touch if I don't practice. And just 'cause I can't give you a cock, that doesn't mean you can't give me a pussy to play with! Don't you like getting oral sex?"

"I wouldn't know. Bill never did that."