We all feel better in the dark

It had been a good night. Hell, a great night. Karen had been dumped by yet another one of those idiots that she insisted on going out with. I could never understand how such a pretty girl (who, in the immortal words of my brother, ‘could have her pick of dick’) managed to unfailing pick the worst sort of men. Of course, I’d never had much in the way of luck with men either, but then I didn’t have the perfect looks of a porcelain doll. Beside her tiny frame, pale skin and fiery tresses, I looked like a shambling giant; tall, broad and untidy. At least I had the excuse of having fewer men to pick from in the first place.

But we’d put our woes aside thanks to the one man that was happy to minister to us both. Glass after glass of Jack Daniels (initially with coke, later with nothing more than an ice cube) had been drunk as we went from pub to pub and then to club. Ol’ Jack was a good dance partner, no need for inhibitions or co-ordination. Even I got some admiring glances when we started the raunchy moves. We didn’t care though, even Karen was paying no heed to the frankly drooling men that gazed at her from the bar. It was a girls’ night; a night of drinks, daft dancing and then back to hers for some bitching about her ex and a chow mein from the late night takeaway. She’d have a boyfriend again in no time, I just hoped he’d be an improvement on the last one…

It must have been after 3am when we stumbled back into her flat, giggling and shushing each other in case we woke her neighbours. Karen was still tottering precariously on her heeled shoes, I was barefoot with my shoes dangling from my hand. We stood still in the darkness for a moment, while she fumbled to find the light switch. When the room was illuminated, I stared in fuzzy puzzlement. Something was missing . It took my drunken brain over a minute to work out what it was.

‘Where’s the sofa?’

‘Eh?’ Karen, being smaller, was even drunker than I was. She looked confused.

‘The sofa. So…fa. That big, comfy thing that opens out into the even comfier bed. The place where I’m supposed to be sleeping. Where is it?’ Jack was whispering crazy stuff to me, that Karen had been burgled but that they’d only wanted a sofa and had left everything else. Whiskey really does make my mind work in the strangest ways. However, before I could travel any further on that particular train of thought, Karen’s face brightened with realisation.

‘It’s being re-upholstered. In white. It’ll be pretty.’ She grinned. Even drunk, I thought this was a daft idea. Karen had two large cats and a bad habit of spilling red wine. The sofa would probably look ‘pretty’ for less than two days. But that wasn’t my primary concern.

‘Where am I supposed to sleep?’ I lived on the other side of the city and simply didn’t have the money for a taxi back at that time of night. On the other hand, I wasn’t exactly happy about having the floor for a bed. I wasn’t a student anymore. Karen looked at me as though I was a slightly slow child.

‘In my bed. It’s a double and it’s not like I take up much room. Just don’t snore!’

‘But, erm, I don’t have anything to wear. Y’know, in bed.’ I’d always been a bit shy about stuff like that. I’d been happy enough to sleep in my knickers when I thought I’d be in the living room. I knew I’d be awake and dressed long before Karen was up. But sharing a bed with her…no, that required more substantial nightwear. She sighed, resignedly, heading into her bedroom.

‘You need to stop worrying about your body, Liz. There’s nothing wrong with it and it’s not like you’ve got anything I haven’t seen before,’ she called to me from her bedroom. Nevertheless, she re-emerged with a huge t-shirt in her hand. She tossed it to me. ‘It’s Jim’s. Or was Jim’s, I doubt he’ll be back for it. Don’t worry, it’s washed, just a bit creased.’ Jim, her ex, had been a rugby player and almost six and a half foot tall. He’d even made me feel like a midget, so I knew his t-shirt would easily keep me covered. I hurried into her bedroom to quickly get changed, while she fed her rapacious felines in the kitchen. By the time she came into bedroom, I was changed and in bed, duvet pulled tight under my chin. Karen had no such qualms and began to carelessly pull off her clothes and drop them on the floor. By the time she was down to her bra and knickers, I had deliberately turned my gaze to an old copy of Cosmo that was lying on by the bed, trying to hide my blush behind an article on waxing your muff into interesting shapes. She was giggling when I felt her slip into bed beside me. ‘It’s ok,’ she announced in a stage whisper, ‘I’m all covered up now.’ Sure enough, she was, duvet tucked under her chin in a deliberate mockery of my own posture. I was still too tipsy to be offended, so I stuck my tongue out at her instead. She started to do the same, only to be interrupted by a huge yawn, which set me off too.

‘Time for sleep, methinks.’ She nodded and turned off the light by the bed. As I started to slip into sleep, I caught a glimpse of a clock. Too tired by 3.20am. Yep, we definitely weren’t students anymore…

My eyes opened. It was still pitch dark, but I could make out a few blurred shapes. I looked at the clock, wondering if it was morning (it was January, when morning and daylight could still be entirely separate concepts). But it was only quarter to five. Which would explain why I was still feeling drunk and not hungover. I had no idea what had woken me. On the other hand, it was Saturday and I didn’t have work to worry about, so I was quite happy to roll over and go back to sleep. So I rolled over. Then all thoughts of sleep suddenly flew out of my mind.

I must have managed to pull all the covers over to my side, as there was no duvet left on Karen at all. Between the alcohol and the obscenely high temperature of her central heating, I doubt if she’d even noticed. She was perfectly naked and open in the dim light, lying on her back with her legs like a sloping number 4; one straight and the other at slight angle, curving back to cross ankle over shin. With her pale skin and her red hair like a halo round her head, she looked like an angel. Her small breasts slid only slightly away from their normal position, not large enough to incur the wrath of gravity (unlike my own, unfortunately), rising and falling with each breath. The tiny curve of her belly moved in unison with them, melding into the dark hair nestled between her legs. She was beautiful, mesmerising even. Even though I felt the blush rising across my cheeks, I couldn’t look away. Mere inches from her, I sighed in strange amazement.

My breath was silent, but it managed to affect her regardless. Before my eyes, I watched her nipples lift from their softened state into little pink buttons, the areola crinkling slightly. I went absolutely still, terrified she would wake up to find me staring at her. But her eyes stayed shut and her breathing was even. I stayed still for a few more moments. Then, compelled by something I couldn’t even name, I gently blew across her chest. The effect was instantaneous. Her nipples rose sharply, standing proud before my eyes. They grew darker, contrasting with her alabaster breasts. Every few moments I would blow again, keeping them pert and rigid. Karen remained in oblivious sleep, but I noticed her breathing starting to quicken. My own breath was growing fast too and my heart felt like a machine gun in my chest.

Part of my mind, the sober and sensible part, told me to stop. To go to sleep and let the alcohol wear off, before I did anything stupid. But another part of my mind, a less familiar part, urged me on. Asked me if her nipples felt as good as they looked. I reached out a tentative, trembling finger and stroked one. It was strange; soft and hard at the same time. It became even more rigid under my touch, almost as though it was straining towards my skin. Without thinking, I started to caress it. Strokes and gentle squeezes. I sat up in bed, allowing both my hands to play with those tiny gems. I grew reckless, bold; taking a breast in each hand and squeezing it, running my thumbs over her nipples in tiny circles. Then, suddenly, she moved and mumbled in her sleep. I pulled my hands away as though I had been burned. Then she spoke, more clearly this time.

‘Don’t…stop. Please…don’t stop.’ Her eyes were still closed and I couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep. Perhaps she was in a dream. All I knew was that she didn’t want it to stop and that *I* didn’t want to stop either. So, putting all doubts from my mind, I leaned over her, dipping my head down towards her chest. Carefully, I took her nipple between my lips. She let out a guttural moan and I felt a familiar ache between my legs. I suckled her nipple into my mouth, squeezing it between my lips and teasing it with the tip of my tongue. I felt her skin grow hot and she began to writhe, arching her back to push herself further into my mouth. I grazed the nipple lightly with my teeth before softly licking it better. My free hand played with her other breast, caressing and teasing it with thumb and forefinger. Her breathing grew faster and faster and I could feel her trembling underneath me. ‘Yes, yes, yes…’ she recited like a mantra and I was happy to continue. ‘Oh yes, yessss..oh, Liz, yes…’

Hearing my name stilled me once more. I didn’t know what to do, I just froze, her damp nipple just below my mouth. I tilted my head up and looked at her face. She was looking right back at me.

‘Oh God, Karen, I don’t know what I…I’m sorry, I…’ She put a finger to my lips.

‘Don’t stop Liz, please. It feels so good, Liz, it feels so good…’ Her head fell back against the pillow and I saw her hand come up to caress her left breast, caressing it in much the same way as I had done. Scared but excited, I took her nipple in my mouth once more, teasing it ruthlessly. My free hand snaked across the soft skin of her belly, stroking as much of her skin as I could reach. She felt as though she was on fire, heat burning through her skin to meet my fingertips and beading with sweat. My hand moved across the tops of her thighs and then, more daringly, between them. I caressed the soft skin of her inner thighs, all the while tempted by the heat I could sense just a little further up. I was suddenly aware of the room smelling strongly of arousal; my own scent was familiar to me, Karen’s new and sharper. Boldly, I ran my fingertips up and down the inside of her thighs; getting higher and nearer each time, but never quite touching. Until she all but sobbed, ‘touch me, Liz, please!’

I needed no further bidding. Gently parting her thighs a little more, I slowly moved my fingers to the slick heat that lay between them. Her netherlips were swollen and pulsing under my touch. Her moans were inarticulate now, no words, just sounds in the dark. My fingers sought out her clitoris, deftly teasing it with the lightest of touches. It seemed to swell and pulse as her cries grew louder.

‘Fuck me! Please…please Liz…fuck me,’ she gasped, rubbing herself wantonly against my hand. Slowly, I slid one finger inside her, hardly daring to breath as it slipped easily into wet velvet. Leisurely I slid it in and out, pausing occasionally to linger over that spot inside which made her arch and cry out. Then I pressed two fingers into her, slipping them in and out, in and out. Her breath was erratic, she trembled and moaned ceaselessly, she was so close. I began to thrust my fingers into her as fast as I could, over and over and over again. Her back arched violently and the rest of her body went rigid and she fluttered wildly around my fingers. As she quietened, sinking into the bed once more, I became aware of my own wetness slicking the inside of my thighs…