REND

“No, I’m not going to do that, you weirdo,” I sternly told Deen.

It was her fetish and I did decide to go along with her bullshit, but I was genuinely irritated at being treated like a kid because of my height and looks. The older I got, the more annoying it became. The occasional jokes were fine; being made to actually play the part like sitting on a lap was crossing it.  

Her hand offering the headband drooped like floppy ears. She realized I was serious about it. “Um, sorry. I-I thought that—”

“But I’ll wear the headband.”

“Really?” She lit up like she won a million dollars—wait, that would be nothing to her—and jumped to her feet. I couldn’t help but find her excited face cute. She positioned herself behind me, grabbed my shoulders, and made me face the mirror.

“What are you doing? I asked, raising a brow at her reflection. Part of me regretted not just going to sleep. “Don’t play with my hair. Just give me that stupid thing and I’ll wear it.”

“You look like a different person,” she said, running her fingers through my wet hair. “Like, your hair is straight, thin—”

“You don’t have to remind me,” I groaned. “Normally, it’s wavy, so it hides how thin it is. But if it’s wet, it just deflates. I’ve been thinking of trying a horse shampoo if it’d make my hair fuller. Something I read on the internet.”

“Those don’t work like that, you know.” She massaged my scalp with her fingers. It felt nice. Then she traced her fingers down to the sides of my neck. For a moment, I thought she’d show her weird side and choke me, but she just massaged my neck. “Wet hair makes you look even younger.”

I raised a brow, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “The things you say are super suspicious. Plus, that tone. If you were a guy, I’d have reported you to the police.”

“I’m just sharing my observations. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Put that headband on me already.”

She gingerly placed it on my head, as if afraid I’d suddenly change my mind and lash out, though her Guardian Angel would alert her in that case. Then she tucked the headband’s ends behind my ears. Pleased with her work, she let out a little squeal, a sound I hadn’t heard her make before, and did a little jig.

“Thank you so much, Erind, for letting me do this,” she said while playing with my new floppy dog ears.

“What’s wrong with you?” I said, trying to keep an annoyed face though I wanted to laugh at how silly she looked. I may look like a kid, but she was acting like one. “It’s just a headband.”

“I prefer this kind of dog over your Blanchette form,” she said.

“I feel like I should be offended by that. It does sound offensive in some way… not sure.”

“I’m just saying you’re cute,” she exasperatedly said. “That’s all. Don’t read too much into it.”

“You may like this—” I flapped both doggy ears “—but I know you like Blanchette in other ways.” I winked at her reflection.

“Oh, you mean the tongue-throat-fucking thing? Whatever.” She pecked at my cheek. “You’re soooo cute.” She smacked my cheek again, a bit harder this time, mashing her lips on my skin.

I smirked. “I know I’m—hey! Mhmm!”

Deen pulled my face to the side and kissed my lips deeply, cutting off my words. Her free arm snaked around my waist and scooped me off the floor. She swung me this way and that like a ragged doll. This bitch. I didn’t resist. Just endure this shit. The payoff was great for the price.

“I’m just so, so, happy,” she gushed after retrieving her tongue from my mouth. “I can’t recall the last time I enjoyed something this much.”

I’m not going to reply or even analyze that statement. No one was paying me to care about Deen’s life issues.  

Still carrying me a foot above the floor, she walked backward to my bed and sat down, causing me to sit on her lap too. “There we go,” she said, placing her chin on my shoulder. “You’re where you should be.”

“I said I’m not doing this!” I tried to pry Deen’s arms off of me, encountering resistance.

Superstrength? Two could play that game. I opened her arms with such force that she was surprised, taking care not to hurt her and risk her Guardian Angel tipping her off. Then I swung my legs up and rolled over her, squishing her head into the foam, and scrambled to the other end of the bed. I grabbed a pillow and whacked her stupid laughing face.

The hits were nothing to her, but better than actually choking her. Which… she’d probably like.

Deen crossed her arms to block the pillowy hits. “If you’re this rowdy, your mom will wake up.”

“Stop treating me like a kid.” I threateningly waved the pillow.   

“So… is it time for the adult stuff?” She mischievously winked as she crawled toward me.

I sighed. “I guess so…”

Deen gasped “Oh, my gosh! Really? Like, you’re actually agreeing to—”

“But before that.” I held up a finger and then pointed to the paper bag on top of the cabinet beside my study table. “Wear what’s inside that.”

“That’s from the store at the airport. Why do you—?” She blinked, realizing what I was proposing. “We’re both playing dress-up then? Sure.”

With no hesitation, she pulled her loose shirt over her head, revealing her breasts. She spotted me staring. She attempted to bring her elbows together in front of her, pushing up her breasts. Her pink nipples stood on ends. This weirdo was turned on as could be.

Something must’ve flashed across my face because Deen smiled. “What’s up? You’ve seen me naked a lot of times already.”

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “Nothing to it…”

She stuck her tongue out at me before getting the paper bag. The white blouse she bought along with the doggy headband was still inside. She held it out, displaying a few flicks of red on its collar and upper chest—my blood from when she bit my tongue.  

“I should’ve washed this as soon as we returned,” Deen said.  

“Did the cashier say anything about it?”

“I didn’t show it to her, of course. I can’t even begin to think up an explanation for it. Lipstick doesn’t drip. So, I acted the irate customer, getting all grumpy about slowness, and that I’ll fold it myself, and just give me the bag.”

I laughed at the mental image of Deen being a mean girl. Must’ve hurt her soul to do that to a minimum-wage employee. Part of me regretted walking out on Deen at the airport; the show would’ve been fun. But I had to do it for the drama. That was mandatory.

“This is really sheer,” said Deen as she buttoned the blouse.

It perfectly fit her—the saleslady was an expert at eyeballing sizes—so it didn’t tightly cling to her breasts. Still, because of the thinness of the fabric, it was like she wasn’t wearing anything, everything was on display. Guys would probably offer their lungs to see Deen like this.

But my eyes were drawn to the blood spots—my blood on her. It was like a mark. I own Amber Deen Leska.

“So, we’re all set!” She sat beside me. I erected a fort of pillows between us. She reached over it and caressed my cheek. “How do you want to do this? If you’re shy or anything, we’ll do it together. Either we face each other or if that’s too much for you, we’ll sit side by side and face the mirror.”

I furrowed my brows. Maybe I should get my brain checked for not immediately throwing Deen out the window. “One, I’m sensing you’ve spent too much time thinking about the specifics of this. And, two, what are those choices even? Facing the mirror?”

“I want to see you playing with yourself,” Deen said matter-of-factly. “Without further ado—” she patted my doggy ears “—shall we begin?”

“Before that!” I held my finger up again.

“Again? Stop delaying, Erind.”

“I’m guessing one of your ex-boyfriends told you that before.”

“Oh, shut up, you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What is it this time? This isn’t a case that you’ll employ delaying tactics.”

“How about you go ahead first? To, you know, give me confidence?”

Deen narrowed her eyes. “What are you playing at? Need I remind you that I’ve already—”

I pressed my finger on her lips. She looked at it crossed eyed then questioningly tilted her head. I took her hand and separated her index and middle finger, extending them while rolling down the others. Then I brought those two fingers to my lips. Deen breathed sharply.

I inserted Deen’s fingers into my mouth. Twirling my tongue around them, I made sure to coat them with my saliva.

Deen was transfixed on my lips. She wiggled her fingers in my mouth, stroking my tongue. “So soft…”

All tongues are soft, dumbass, was what I wanted to tell her. But I was enjoying my power over her, knowing which buttons to push to turn her own. This was a new fun game.

I pulled her hand away as I sucked her fingers, making a loud pop as they came out.

I traced the waistband of her pajama pants and then hooked my fingers into it. Pulling it a couple of inches out, I nodded down and said, “Play with yourself.”

Flushed red, Deen excitedly nodded and inserted her hand with saliva-coated fingers into her pants. She suddenly leaned forward, nestling her head in the curve of my chin. She furiously played with herself like she was rubbing sticks together to light a fire. Not sure how that worked. I felt the shivers going through her body.

“Erind… Erind…” she repeatedly moaned into my ear.

Awkward. This felt like I was celebrating my birthday and everything was singing ‘Happy Birthday’ not knowing what to do. Technically, this was more awkward. Guess I’ll just have to help her.