Page 13 of Surfer Girl

Jessie merely shook her head, patiently tying her red hair into a loose ponytail and admiring Sophie’s ripe naked body splayed out, curvy and damp, atop the leather seat cushion.

“All in good time,” she said, casually reaching down to drag the bikini bottoms from around her waist and over her ankles until it joined the pile of wet bathing suits scattered across the living room floor. “The night is young, Sophie, and I want to press my pussy against yours for a while first. Would you like that?”

Chapter Seven

SOPHIE

Sophie nodded in reply. She didn’t have the strength to do much more. Not after what Jessie had just done to her. Not after the incredible joy and scream-inducing ecstasy Jessie had given her for God knows how long. After her doomed prom night with Colton and finally deciding boys simply weren’t for her, Sophie had only been with two other girls before today.

The first was Chantel, the resident assistant for her freshman dorm. Exotic and comely, she had avoided Sophie at first. That is, until she caught her smoking pot in the girls’ bathroom down the hall. Chantel had written her up, but in doing so had let her know she’d keep her eye on Sophie for the rest of the semester.

And did she ever. Finally, after her mom made it clear she wasn’t necessarily welcome home over Christmas break that year, Sophie had spent the holiday barricaded in her dorm room, eating cheesy poofs and binge-watchingZombie Astronauts from Marson HitFlix. She had been taking a shower on Christmas Eve when she felt the presence of someone else in the empty ladies’ room.

Chantel had lingered just outside the partly open shower curtain before clearing her throat. She wore a soft terrycloth bathrobe, flip-flops, and nothing else. The robe was half open, and Sophie knew how she’d reply even before Chantel asked, “Can I join you?”

They had spent the rest of that night and Christmas morning together, exploring each other’s bodies tentatively, but not fully, before Chantel rose, walked out of her dorm room, and never spoke of the incident again.

Sophie’s second—and most recent—female lover was Astrid, a hippy chick in her junior year World Religions class. She had been standoffish at first, quiet and reserved as she sat in the back of the big auditorium in her colorful crinkle skirts and sleeveless blouses, wispy arm hair enticing whenever she lifted her hands to tie her dirty blonde ponytail into place before securing it with a chewed-up pencil.

Having been burned by Chantel a few semesters earlier, Sophie was in no hurry to be hurt all over again. Still, she began to look forward to her Tuesday and Thursday religion classes. Or, more specifically, the two hours she got to spend furtively glancing at Astrid’s small, pert breasts as they poked against the sheer material of her gauzy blouses, clearly braless. She learned nothing from the dry, boring lectures but, instead, spent the entire time fantasizing about seeing those breasts bare before her, naked to the eye, the touch, the feel of her trembling fingertips and fervent rasp of her hungry tongue.

Imperceptibly, it seemed, as it happened so slowly, Astrid began sitting closer and closer every class period until, at last, she came in, headed straight for Sophie’s row, and sank into the chair next to her. She said not a word but opened her folder and set it on the long table in front of them. Sophie had sat breathless until, halfway through class, Astrid had scribbled something on the wide, blank page and slid it in front of her.

As if the two girls were sitting in junior high detention and not a college class, Sophie glanced down to read the words scrawled there: “I’m not wearing a bra.”

Sophie smirked, biting down a snort as she used her favorite ballpoint pen to scribble a furtive reply: “No shit, Ho. You never do…”

Gently, with trembling hands, she’d slid the notebook back to her neighbor. Astrid had smiled, the first time Sophie had seen her do so since the semester had begun weeks earlier. She took her chewed pencil and scribbled another note: “You noticed?”

“How could I not?” Sophie wrote in response.

There began a breathless, almost furious, note-swapping session. It was as if the rest of the class had fallen away completely, the droning professor at the front of the vast auditorium sounding like background noise as all Sophie could hear was the rasping of Astrid’s stubby pencil scribbling out her versions of sweet nothings on the rapidly filling pages of her composition notebook.

“How long have you been staring at my tits?” Astrid wrote back hastily.

“Since the semester started, obvi,” Sophie confessed. She was not one to be so blunt, but the situation was so surreal she couldn’t resist.

“So, every class?” Astrid wrote before sliding the notebook back in front of Sophie’s hungry eyes.

“Pretty much.”

Astride wrote: “Today’s different.”

“How so?” Sophie responded.

“I’m not wearing panties either!”

Sophie snorted. She couldn’t help it. Fortunately, they were so far back in the giant auditorium no one noticed, least of all the balding professor miles away at the front of the room, dragging yet another slide of ancient ruins onto the projector beside his podium.

“Happy for you,” Sophie wrote before sliding the notebook back.

Astrid gave a crooked smile to match her crooked teeth. She nibbled on her pencil for a moment before scribbling out a whole paragraph while Sophie waited, holding her breath: “I’m leaving in two minutes. I’m staying in Murphy Dorms, second floor, room #218. Be there in five or I’ll show my pussy to the girl down the hall instead of you…”

Sophie read the note just as breathlessly but responded cautiously: “So I have two minutes to tell you what a bad idea this is.”

“It’s a great idea,” Astrid wrote. “And your last chance.”

“Why?”

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