Just Down the Hall

by Alessandra Thomas

  “Fuck, Liz,” I managed to grunt when that light electric current started buzzing through my limbs, signaling the beginning of the end. We couldn’t have been doing this for more than a few minutes, and I couldn’t help but feel a flash of embarrassment for all I’d talked myself up. Dammit. “I’m so close,” I ground out, breathing hot air against her neck.

  She grinned at me and flicked an eyebrow upward. Then she unhooked her arms from where she’d settled them along my shoulder blades, cupped my ass in her palms, and squeezed the next time I was completely inside her. “Good,” she said. “That’s the goal, isn’t it?”

  “But…are you?” I was panting now, a man fighting ultimate sensation and chasing it at the same time.

  She licked her lips and twisted her hips so that her walls squeezed around me in a completely new way. A moan dropped from my lips, and as much as I wanted to hold back, my movements only sped up. “You already took care of me,” she said, her soft kiss against my temple standing out in sharp contrast to the way I was snapping my hips against hers.

  I shook my head, dragging my forehead back and forth on her collarbone. “The goal,” I said, allowing a deep rumble of pleasure to break through my words, “is twice. At least. You don’t need… unh… recovery time like I do.”

  I pulled back to look at her, and her expression was all amusement. “That’s really not necessary,” she whispered with that teasing little smirk. “I’m enjoying this very much. Whether I come again or not.”

  Obviously, she had no idea what she was missing. Giving a girl an orgasm with penetration could be difficult, but was certainly not impossible, and I intended to at least try. She was trusting me to take care of her tonight, and I planned to do just that.

  I twisted to the right, just enough to hook her leg under my arm and slide it up so that the back of her thigh rested on my shoulder, then thrust in hard. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth dropped open in a silent moaning ‘o.’ I grinned in satisfaction. If I’d had a free hand to pump in the air right in that moment, I would’ve.

  She was pulling in little gasps every time I filled her, exhaling when I pulled out. “Oh my God, Jordan, that’s - ahhh! - right there. Jesus, that’s - unhh - incredible.” Her pitch got higher with every passing second, so I slowed my thrusts, making them harder, more powerful. The deep groan that came rumbling out of her then filled me with satisfaction. Maybe I was going to manage this after all.

  I was starting to lose focus, though, the deeper penetration sending me into a frenzy of need. I was crazed, chasing what I could already tell would be one of the most incredible orgasms I’d ever had.

  “Unhh, Jordan, I’m gonna -” and then she arched up higher than I thought was possible, bumping our hip bones together and sending me into a frantic crescendo of motion. I quickly lost my rhythm and didn’t give a single shit about it.

  I slid a hand to the small of her back, holding her hard against me. “Come on babe, I’ve got you. Come for me, Lizzie,” I growled against her earlobe.

  That did it. She screamed my name and strings of curses and nonsense as her pussy clenched around my cock, and I drove into her like my life depended on it. Every muscle in my body tensed then, and I let loose an insanely animalistic half-groan, half-growl as my vision blurred at the edges and I gave myself over to the pleasure coursing hot through my veins.

  I stayed deep inside her for precious seconds before my limbs began to shake. Reluctantly, I fell to her side, loving the cool air on my skin but hating the fact that I wasn’t pressed up against her anymore. I wondered if I’d ever get to touch her like that again.

  After all, I was the one who said this could just be a one-time thing if she wanted, that it would be okay with me. But now, after everything she’d made me feel? I wasn’t so sure if that was true at all.

  Fortunately, Liz’s still-breathless voice distracted me. “Holy crap, Jordan. I’ve never - I mean, that was - I didn’t think girls could do that more than once in - you know, I’d read that it was possible, but I kind of thought those girls were exaggerating. Just…whoa.”

  I managed to turn my head to look at her. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she chuckled. “Definitely.” After another few breaths, she murmured, “Thank you.”

  “Hey. You were amazing,” I panted, realizing that I hadn’t complimented her fucking incredible performance yet. The truth was, I realized, it was less how she moved and more who she was that I found so completely engrossing. The way her smiled made my heart soar, the way her moans spurned me on, the way her pussy perfectly clenched around me, and that look she gave me, like she wanted me desperately and completely trusted me at the same time - it was all irresistible. Addictive.

  My heart twisted as the realization swept over me - I didn’t know how to tell a girl I’d promised just one roll in the hay, just to relieve some stress, that I kind of wanted to do it again. And maybe again after that. It twisted even more when I realized how badly I wanted her to stay here, next to me, in my bed. Even though that made no sense. We’d both known what this was when we started. Right?

  It didn’t help when she rolled to her side and slid her arm over my waist. “Kiera did not tell me that you’d gotten so cut,” she said drowsily, tracing lazy patterns over my abs. Her eyelids were already drooping, her head pressing heavy into the pillow. I turned my body toward hers just enough to reach up and let my fingers run over her hair. It was so damn soft. Next time I’d have to somehow get her to run it over my skin, just to see what that did to me.

  There probably won’t even be a next time, you perv. Chill the fuck out.

  “Astronaut goals,” I murmured, watching her eyelids go all the way shut, stay that way for a full second, then drag open again. “You have to be in perfect shape to even be considered. Have to start years in advance.”

  “Mmmm,” she said, her lips curving into a smile. “Well, I really appreciate the side effects of your career goals, Rocket Man.”

  That made me laugh, and before I could talk myself out of it, I slid my other arm under her and pulled her close. She didn’t miss a beat, snuggling into my side like she’d done it a thousand times, and would do it a thousand times more. Her hair slid over my bicep, and just that contact had my cock halfheartedly trying to twitch back to life.

  “I’m just gonna close my eyes for a second…” she managed before her body grew heavy against mine and her breathing slowed.

  I kissed the top of her head and pulled the covers over us with a sigh. “Goodnight, Lizzie P.”

  I snuggled into her, sighing my pleasure into her hair. My last thought before drifting off?

  I’d promised her this wouldn’t be weird, that we could be just friends. After just once together, I was already enjoying this much more than I anticipated.

  I was in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.

  When I woke, it was morning, judging by the harsh light slicing through my bedroom window and directly onto my face, much later than I’d woken up in a long time. I rolled, burying my face in the pillow beside me and groaning. A deep breath in filled my nose with a fresh, distinctly feminine, scent.

  In a rush, the events of last night came back to me. One drink with my kid sister’s best friend and my new roommate. Her seeming nonchalant about never having had good sex in her life, and looking more and more delicious with every word she spoke. Me coming on to her, offering to “help.”

  I rolled onto my back, letting the sun assault my eyes again, rubbing my palms up and down slowly over my face, muffling the groan that passed my lips. The sex had been incredible, Liz was incredible, but oh my god, we were roommates. At least she wasn’t lying here now, witnessing my flood of indecision over what it all meant and what the fuck I was supposed to do now.

  It was with my next deep breath that I smelled the heavenly aroma of coffee wafting through the air. There was no resisting seeing her now. My successful cramming of five years of engineering school into four had turned coffee from a mere beverage to an e
lixir of life, and if I didn’t get some soon, I’d be dead.

  Our apartment let in so much natural light that it made the lone beam sneaking through my windows look puny. I blinked against the brightness, only realizing after I’d stepped out into our common area that I hadn’t put a shirt on.

  “Morning, dweeb.” Liz turned to greet me, coffee cup in hand, and leaned against the counter where stared at me, smirking. Her smooth, shining hair seemed to arc over her shoulder in slow-motion, sending the same scent that was stuck on my pillow right back toward me, and for a split second the only thing I could think was how badly I wanted to touch it again.

  She’d already dressed for work, in a crisp white button down, open to show just a little cleavage, black pencil skirt that hugged her ass perfectly, and a little red jacket that flared at the waist. Her outfit was practically a diagram for all the places I most loved grabbing and squeezing her the night before.

  I only realized that I hadn’t answered when she started talking again. “I made plenty of coffee for the both of us. I don’t know how you take it, but if you want to get your own coffee pot that’s fine with me. You got stuff to do today?”

  It was a completely normal conversation, between two roommates. Not between two people who had engaged in what I thought was pretty incredible sex the night before. But I had to say something, eventually. “Uh, thanks. I’m not picky.”

  “Good,” she said, clearly absorbed in pouring the rest of her coffee into a travel mug and gathering her phone, keys, and bag. “I assume you have UPenn stuff today. Need any help finding anything? University City’s pretty straightforward, but…”

  “Uh, no,” I said, blinking and stretching my neck, hoping that would bring me a more level head for this conversation. “Thanks.”

  Then she walked right past me, to the door, and placed her palm on the handle. My feet were frozen in place, my face slack, watching her to see what she would do next. She still had one foot in the apartment when she turned around and smiled at me with an adorable flick of her eyebrow. “Thanks for last night. It was really nice.”

  Then she was gone.

  Dammit. Obviously, she had a firm grasp on this whole situation, and I had never felt more lost.

  Chapter 8

  Liz

  Working at Philly Illustrated got a tiny bit more bearable every day. The knot of nerves in my stomach that had formed when I’d been bombarded by surprise after unwelcome surprise on that first day began to loosen a bit. Over the next week or so, I made my cube homier, got to know some of the other underlings in the office, and figured out I should use the bathroom on the floor below our office if I wanted to avoid the leer of the creepy dude from HR.

  I found out that the dating project would not be my only focus - I’d also be proofing others’ articles, and Monica even gave me a little freedom to make editorial suggestions for them. She would decide if they had any merit before passing them on, but, as my father reminded me, learning why I was wrong about something I was still learning. This was an internship, and I was here to learn.

  I tried to tamp down the creeping horror over the fact that I’d spent four years learning about journalism to get this internship, where I was just supposed to do more learning. When would it end? Would anyone ever believe in me as a journalist? I hated the feeling that not only did I not know where that road was, but I didn’t even know where it started.

  As much as I hated to admit it, the path might have to start with dating several random guys and writing about the experience.

  I sighed as I read over Monica’s response to my latest email - she thought including reviews of local restaurants and venues would be a good choice, as long as they agreed to pitch in to sponsor us, and as long as I could convince them to do so. Great. So now I was supposed to be a ad sales girl.

  Chin up, Elizabeth. She liked one of your suggestions out of the dozen you gave - that’s better than nothing.

  I almost closed out the email before catching the last line above her standard signature.

  “Now, for something entirely different - we’ve got your first three date candidates, and we’re putting them on the site for a vote tomorrow. Want to check over the copy?”

  I bit back a groan of frustration, lowered my forehead to the single empty space on my pitifully small desk, and softly banged it there several times. Then I pulled myself together, sat up, brushed my hair off my forehead, and blew out a long breath.

  Then I pasted a smile on my face - they said that just forcing yourself to smile could make your emails sound more positive - and started to type.

  * * *

  Thanks for the suggestions! I’m learning tons from you. :)

  * * *

  I’d love to see the guys’ write ups. This is so much better than Cupid’s Arrow!

  * * *

  EHP

  * * *

  I sighed and clicked send. It was not better than Cupid’s Arrow, the dating site my mom and sister had bugged me to sign up for as soon as Josh dumped my ass, and only slightly better than Sparkplug, the dating app where guys seemed to feel widely at liberty to send nasty private messages and, occasionally, dick pics, at all hours.

  The email came back from Monica almost immediately.

  * * *

  Cool. Alphonso put these together and we’re about to send them to a little focus group at UPenn. Let us know what you think.

  * * *

  I groaned again. That focus group was probably made of students I’d been walking past on campus just weeks ago. Hopefully they didn’t recognize my name.

  * * *

  1.“Prince Charming”

  * * *

  I love nothing more than treating my date like a Princess. Nothing is too good for the beautiful women I choose to take out. You’ll feel like a queen by the end of our night together.

  * * *

  ~ Sam, accountant, 32

  * * *

  I tilted my head at that one. Maybe this guy had some obsession with royalty, but that couldn’t be all bad, could it? Though, he was an accountant. Stereotypically boring. Maybe his job gave him such an inferiority complex that he had to style himself as royalty just to keep things interesting.

  * * *

  2. “Dance the night away”

  * * *

  I believe if a guy can’t shake it, he doesn’t deserve to make it. Why walk through life when you can dance through it instead? I know the ins and outs of all the Philly clubs and I’d love to show you, too.

  * * *

  ~ Brad, print model, 28

  * * *

  My left eyebrow curved up. This one might not be so bad. I didn’t love clubbing - too much alcohol, too many people grinding against each other with too little fabric separating their bodies - but I didn’t mind it, either. Carl sounded fun. Maybe it was about time I toured the trendier side of Philly - Josh’s social life had been all frat bullshit and law school seriousness.

  * * *

  3. “Hear me roar.”

  * * *

  I’m just a little shorter and much smarter than your average bear. Also, a total bear in the sack. If we get along, I’d love to take you back to my den.

  * * *

  ~Alex, outdoor enthusiast, 25

  * * *

  I wrinkled my nose. There were very few things that attracted me to bears. Also, was “outdoor enthusiast” considered an actual job?

  * * *

  I jotted off one last email to Monica, approving the choices and amping up my chipper factor about the entire project, before getting on the train back home.

  I had no idea how it was possible to feel as exhausted as I did once I finally got settled. The trudge from my stop to the apartment felt interminable, and in the last half a block, I was practically fantasizing about taking off my heels.

  And then I walked in the door and started fantasizing about something completely different.

  Jordan, who I hadn’t spoken more than two words in passing to since that incredibl
e night we’d spent together, was standing in the kitchen, wearing a white undershirt and blue and white striped cotton pajama bottoms, shimmying along to salsa music piping from his phone, arm-deep in a sink full of soapy water.

  And his ass certainly looked good doing it.

  I couldn’t even begin to suppress my giggle, and when he froze, I just dropped my bag at the door.

  He turned around, his smile gleaming at me. I scolded myself for avoiding him as much as I had this week. The lingering embarrassment from that night - he’d been licking my labia, for God’s sake, and I hadn’t known what in the hell to say to him ever since - washed over me, tinging my cheeks red.

  Say something, bitch. Say. Something.

  “Sorry I left those dishes,” I managed to stutter out.

  “No problem,” he said smoothly, while still managing to keep that smile teasing at the corners of his mouth, making me want to kiss them again. “My college roommates and I had a schedule and everything, but I thought we’d see if we could maybe fall into a rhythm on our own. Gave me the opportunity to throw something in the oven.”

  God, just the way he said ‘fall into a rhythm’ reminded me of the rhythm he’d set between us all those days ago. During the amazing night that we still hadn’t talked about.

  What was the point of talking about it, really? We had had sex. Amazing sex. It was pretty clear from his offer that it was one night only, and he had kept out of my sight since then.