Vagina Day

A few words before you start reading: This bite-sized story is my contribution to the Literotica 2022 Valentine's Day Story Contest. Please vote and comment if you feel like doing so. All characters are over 18 years old.

"She keeps her scents
in a dressing-case.
And her sense?
In some undiscoverable place."

Sappho, fragment 156

She danced on the rooftop. Her shoulder long mullet bounced around in the wind. She stomped her combat boots to a soundless melody while the nightgown lived a life of its own. Molly, the goddess of the winds.

Becky sat near the only light source, a half broken wall lamp, holding her scrawny legs together with her meager arms. She thought the whole excursion, everything from sneaking past the warden, through the hallway past all the other patient's doors to the climb out through the window onto the dark roof was stupid, but she couldn't help but smile anyway.

"I'm freezing, Molly!"

"We should call it Vagina Day! No more Valentine!" Molly shouted at the sky.

"Already taken!"

"What?"

They didn't call her "the living dictionary" for nothing. Becky was blessed - however, she might've disagreed and used the word 'cursed' instead - with the rare ability to remember everything she'd ever read, down to every last single, useless detail.

"National Vagina Day, that's October 19th.. and Vagina Appreciation Day on April 23rd," she giggled. "National Anal Sex Day, that's April the 18th."

Molly grabbed her arms and tried to pull her up. She wanted a dance partner, but Becky would honestly rather eat a pile of shit. She was way too scared to humiliate herself like that, even in the dark in front of a non-existing audience.

"I don't care!" Molly laughed. "It's Vagina Day, you better remember it!"

She danced like a happy fool with no inhibitions; running, jumping and spinning her way through the cold February night, like the most wonderful saphead on planet Earth. Becky loved her to death.

"Why celebrate a long dead saint, anyway?" Molly asked and stopped in her tracks.

She pulled up the gown, pointed her fingers demonstratively at the splash of blue color between her legs.

"This is where all men come from, right? Saints, sinners and everyone else!"

Becky nodded. She remembered when she helped her dye the pubes. Molly stole the bottle from the infirmary and they spent the better part of an hour locked in the bathroom, whispering and giggling like two schoolgirls trying not to get caught with their naughty business.

She also remembered the soft brush, the strong smell of ammonia and her sweaty hands stuck in the warm plastic gloves; the abundance of thick hair she could run her fingers through. They washed her sex thoroughly in the sink and Molly let her kiss it afterwards.

"Molly, get back!"

The lady in the gown balanced on the edge of the roof with her back towards the void, her boots swaying back and forth, eyes closed and arms stretched out horizontally. One gust of wind and she would be gone forever. Becky wanted to run and grab her. If Molly dragged her down with her, at least they would be together.

"It's not funny, Molly!" she cried out.

Molly took a step forward, then two, held out her dress gracefully, bow her head and gave Becky a curtsy. She always said this was not her time, not her life.

"Happy now?" Molly walked closer, boots clomping against the hard concrete.

She sat down with her legs crossed. Close, but not close enough. Becky wanted to crawl up to her, never wanted anything more in her life, but she couldn't. She was shaking from the cold, but Molly seemed unaffected.

"Don't do that again. Please," she begged.

Molly looked at her.

"I won't die. Ever. I have told you."

"If you fall down five floors," Becky sighed, "you will."

Molly smiled. Her voice was quiet and soft, like a warm breeze.

"Then fall with me," she whispered.

"I can't. I'm afraid."

A brief pause, some quiet contemplation.

"I remember our first kiss," Molly said with her eyes gazing out into the dark, "do you?"

Becky remembered.

Some nights they slept together. For comfort, warmth, or just to spite the facility's authorities. Quite a few of the other girls did the same thing. Sleep friends, they'd call it.

Their beds were placed far away from each other in the sleeping hall, Becky's was right smack in the middle and Molly was furthest away in the southeast corner. Becky waited one or two hours after the lights went out and sneaked past the rows of sleeping, snoring bodies. She crawled into Molly's bed and held her until she drifted far, far way.

One night, they were both roused from the absinthe Molly had stolen from the doctor's office. Molly, in all her infinite wisdom, showed Becky how to slowly pour cold water over a sugar cube sitting above the absinthe glass until it dissolved, and you could sip the dreadful liquid.

Instead of Becky spooning Molly, waiting for Sandman to take them away on his ship, they lay face to face and whispered to each other as quietly as possible, not to disturb the others. Their nose tips touched while they shared all their hopes, desires and dreams. The licorice smell from the absinthe still lingered and surrounded them in a cocoon of delight and ease.

"I'd like to kiss you," Molly whispered, "just once."

"Why?"

"Because I will break if I don't."

So they kissed. A quick, soft peck. Two smiling mouths in the darkness. Becky leaned in and kissed Molly again, just to find out if the second one was as good as the first. It wasn't, it was even better. Everything suddenly made so much sense. They giggled, hushed each other, and then kissed some more.

"We need to sleep," Molly whispered.

She sat up, took off her nightgown, her underwear and crept under the covers. Becky hesitated until she didn't, got undressed quickly and hid her clothes under the bed only to join the warm-blooded body underneath. One final good night kiss, then Molly turned away and Becky held her close. They had never slept naked together before.

Becky fell asleep after what seemed an eternity, with her hand resting on Molly's chest and her lips pressed against her back. In her dreams they were weightless, floating among the clouds and shared a fleeting kiss whenever they passed but eventually managed to grab and hold onto each other.

While they embraced far up in the stratosphere and pressed their bodies tighter and tighter together, Becky orgasmed in her sleep next to Molly.

One thing led to another, that's how the story always goes, right? This one was no exception. So, Molly and Becky became lovers. It wasn't long before it became official, and the other girls happily proclaimed 'we have a new couple on this row'!

For some time, they managed to sneak away unnoticed almost every day and find an unsupervised closet or storage room where they could satisfy their physical needs.

Becky remembered all this.

"I loved your poem," Molly breathed, close but yet so far away,"The note under my pillow. I yearn for, I burn for, the one I miss. Into the soft arms of the girl I once spurned, I gladly returned."

"Sappho wrote that, not me. She was a Greek poet. Died over a millennia ago."

"You really did hate me when I first arrived, didn't you?"

Molly stood up. Becky wanted to grab her unlaced boots, make her stay, just a little longer. She could, and yet she couldn't. Tears obscured her sight, made the image of Molly blurry and distorted. She wiped them away.

"Please don't go."

"Don't spill your tears. A woman can not overstay her welcome," Molly spoke in her stuck-up maiden voice, "you simply must know that as well as I do."

"When can I see you again?"

Molly turned away. Tapped her boot impatiently.

"In your dreams, in your thoughts.. and we'll meet here, once every year. See, I can rhyme too!"

"On Vagina Day," Becky smiled and licked the salty tears from her lips.

"Damn right, girl. Vagina Day. Don't forget.".

With that, Molly was gone.

She walked away from the roof, out into the darkness of the night. Becky lay down in the fetal position and soaked the rugged concrete roof with her tears. When she ran out, she climbed down and managed to get back into bed. Not her own, but the one furthest away in the southeast corner.

After Molly's death she wouldn't leave that bed, even when they decided to give it to a new girl she wouldn't stop screaming and kicking them, so eventually they budged and let her have it. She fell asleep in it every night and dreamt about her. Blue sky, clouds.

Molly, the goddess of the winds.

A few more words: Since this story deals with suicide, I feel obliged to let you know that, if you suffer from depression and/or anxiety, please reach out. Don't keep it to yourself. You're not alone. Talk to somebody, reach out online, google the phone number for a support line in your country and make the call. Good luck. Thanks for reading.