Just Deny
MUSIC DRIFTS INTO MY SENSES, it’s a Portishead song but it’s Glory Box this time. It’s not too loud but it’s coming from my room. I open my eyes and find Betsy sitting sideways in my chair, legs draped over the side closest to me, her eyes narrowed at me.
“Morning, Joe,” she says with a wide smile.
“Morning, Bets,” I say back, not sure what is happening, or if I’m awake yet.
Her foot taps in the air to the beat. Like she’s trying to hypnotize me, I stare and close my eyes again. “Have a fun night?” she asks.
“If you mean did I jack it on that very chair last night and come all over my hand, then yes, it was fun,” I say playfully and instead of looking disgusted she sinks even farther into the chair with a smirk.
“That does sound like a good time. Orgasms are fun incarnate.” She crosses her legs and picks up a book from her lap. “Hope you don’t mind me invading your space to read a little? I was waiting for you to get up but then decided to just go for it. You talk in your sleep.”
I look at her expectantly, but she just waves her hand at me. “What time is it?” I ask.
“Just after ten, I’ve been in here since nine. Don’t worry, I wasn’t creeping on you the whole time. I just put the music on a few minutes ago to see if I could wake you,” she says, shrugging like it’s not weird that she’s been in my room for an hour while I was sleeping. It isn’t with us, though. She is in her silky pajama pants and fluffy robe, fresh-faced, her hair in a loose ponytail. Seeing her relaxed and comfortable in my room gives me an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. I like her here, she fits.
“Creep away, Bestie. I’m glad you feel comfortable here. Hope my bed behaved,” I say with a wink.
Her face flushes ever so slightly. “It was touch and go there, like when your sheet dropped below your waist and I caught a good long glimpse of your ass.”
I turn on to my stomach and shake my hips so the sheet falls and shows roughly half my cheeks. This also effectively hides my rock-hard morning wood. Her eyes are sparkling and her amused smile is toothy. God, she’s beautiful sitting in my chair, sun haloing behind her. For just a minute I believe she’s mine. In a flash, I see myself jumping from the bed, picking her up and throwing her back into it with me. My face buried in her neck, dick grinding against her. I flex a little and my dick likes it a bit too much.
Betsy rises from the chair, folding the book under her arm. “I’ll let you finish waking up, meet me in the kitchen?”
“It’s a date,” I say and bury my face into my pillow. Starting to wake up a bit more I realize that Betsy was in my room, while I was talking in my sleep, in a chair I came all over myself fantasizing about eating her pussy. At this last thought, I grind myself into my mattress again. I turn and the sheet drops past my balls and my dick stands, needing some attention. As I stretch, I hear a gasp. Betsy is standing in the hallway, halfway out of her room, staring at me. I get up out of bed, walk across the room, holding eye contact until I reach the bathroom where our connection breaks and I smack my own ass. I hear her laugh as I close the door.
This is already a weird day. I take a hot shower, quickly jacking off to the look on her face when she saw my hard dick. Half saucy, half a bit bashful? That doesn’t seem right but I guess there’s a difference between seeing someone nude and seeing someone nude with a raging boner. The boundaries are loose. I throw on some sweats and a white tank and head to the kitchen. Betsy has taken her robe off and is wearing a similar white tank top, I look a little closer and I think it’s actually one of mine.
“Making yourself at home, huh?” I ask teasing. “First my chair, and now my clothes. I probably should feel violated but you’re not wearing a bra so I’m too distracted.”
She shakes her head with a smile. “I told you, boundary issues. I’ve lived alone for a long time so I’m adjusting to sharing space.”
“You’re not used to having places in your home that are off-limits,” I say and she nods. “There are no off-limits spaces here, Bets. I mean it.”
I just notice the music she’s playing on her phone and it’s more of her “dance” music. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to let me know she saw me at Lady Marmalade’s last night but I’m not going to own up to it.
“That’s kind of you. So, did you end up going out last night or was it just a date with your hand?” She wiggles her fingers in my direction.
I shrug. “Caught me. I took advantage of an empty house and made sweet, sweet love to myself,” I say this last part turning around and pretending to make out with myself, arms crossed, hands in my hair. You know, like you did when you were 12.
Her laughter is welcome and I turn back to her and smile. She’s cooking eggs, a scramble, by the looks of it and my stomach growls. “This is almost ready so you can have breakfast with yourself, or did you cut out early?”
“I’m not one to fuck and run, are you joining me?” I ask, fully enjoying our teasing.
“Of course.” She scoops the eggs on to two plates I hadn’t noticed that already had tortillas with cheese on them. “I’m your roommate here to make it awkward the next morning. So, are you going to introduce me?”
I hold my hand up. “Betsy, this is ‘Some,’” I joke and hold my hand out to her.
She takes my hand and shakes it vigorously. “‘Some,’ eh? Like Hand-Some?” she asks, laughing at my silly joke. Still holding my hand, she brings it to her face. “I hope you got yours too, Joe seems like a generous sort, but you never know.”
I pull my hand from hers, feigning being indignant. “How dare you? My lovers always come first, always.” I emphasize this looking into her eyes.
“I figured, but it’s not polite to assume. Aren’t you going to ask me about my night?”
My mouth twists into a smirk. “Of course, madam, how was your evening of entertaining the masses?”
“Well, it was interesting. There was a new couple working and man are they fucking hot together. I almost creamed my panties watching them. Which was inconvenient since I went on right after them. My performances were some of my best, sometimes you’re just turned all the way on, you know?”
“Yep, there are nights where our band is completely in sync and we sound great. I love those times. Wait, you said, performances? You mean you do more than one dance a night?” I ask and she nods.
“Oh yeah, I usually do the opening dance, my spotlight dance toward the end of the night and then the finale, which I do with two other women.” She takes a bite of food and I stare at her. I missed her other two dances? Well, shit. Now I have to go back Thursday.
“Wow, are you one of the main dancers, then?” I ask, knowing she is prominently featured on the marquee and posters in the small theater. Even if that wasn’t the case, she was by far the most talented of the dancers I did see.
“I’m a featured dancer and I share the headliner with two others. I’ve been there for a while and I think I’m pretty awesome, so,” she says and holds her hands up in the air like this is obvious. I agree with her but I’m not going to admit anything. If she asked me point blank if I was there, I’d own up, but she hasn’t. I’m not 100% sure she saw me. If she did, she’s waiting for me to say something.
“You are beyond awesome. We wouldn’t be besties if you weren’t.” I finish up my breakfast and put my dishes in the sink. “That was tasty, thanks, B.” I pat my stomach and head back upstairs.
“My pleasure, hand. . . . some.”
I laugh as I head into my room to change for rehearsal, my mind full of her and how screwed I am.