She's With Me (3 page)

If angular girls weren't Izzy's type, maybe curvy girls were? Eyeliner Girl had a chest almost as nice as Meeka's, and the corset cinched her waist neatly. But mostly it made Izzy think of how incredible Meeka would look in a corset like that, and how she'd make entertaining squeaky noises when Izzy laced her into it.

Eyeliner Girl said something that made Meeka giggle and duck her head and followed it up with an arm around her waist, steering her onto the dance floor. Her braids swung out behind her and the sheer shirt clung and shifted with every bounce of her breasts—Izzy didn't have to track Eyeliner Girl's eye movements to know that was a successful fashion choice. She did anyway, with mixed feelings. She was proud of Meeka, and smugly proud of her own work, but it had been much nicer to watch Meeka be admired when she'd been sitting untouchable on the bar stool next to Izzy's.
I'm with you, right?
Not tonight, she wasn't.

Jealous? Or only envious because Meeka was getting laid tonight and she wasn't? Izzy's phone buzzed, and she took it out of her pocket, looked at it, and impatiently thumbed the call away. She didn't want to talk to Jake. She didn't want to miss this.

Where had Meeka learned to move her shoulders like that? It was absolutely hypnotic; Izzy didn't know if Eyeliner Girl was a naturally crap dancer or if she was just as entranced as Izzy was, too dumbstruck to move her feet. But she recovered enough to hold on when Meeka pressed up against her, to keep up with the frantic electronic pace of the music. There was a sheen of sweat on Meeka's neck, and a breathless grin on her face. Eyeliner Girl was clearly lacking in the presence-of-mind department because she wasn't grabbing Meeka's ass even though it was
right there
. Then other dancers shimmied and swayed their way between Meeka and Izzy's line of view, and she had a choice between standing around looking stupid, dancing herself, or going to the bar and getting a drink.

She'd barely started on her screwdriver when Meeka came up to the bar too, trailing Eyeliner Girl. Meeka was looking flushed and happy; Eyeliner Girl was looking—well, Izzy would rather look at Meeka any day.

"What are you drinking?" said Eyeliner Girl.

"Just a Coke," Meeka told the bartender, then over her shoulder to Eyeliner Girl, "I'll get it, really. And, um, this is my friend, Izzy."

Eyeliner Girl had apparently not noticed there was anyone else at the bar, nor was she pleased to have her attention drawn to this fact.

"Hi, there," said Izzy, with a carefully neutral wave. She wasn't sure why Meeka had brought Eyeliner Girl here. Just to let Izzy know not to wait up? Or was she still looking for Izzy's approval?

Izzy stifled a smirk.
Only if I get to watch
would probably not go over well with Eyeliner Girl.

"Hey," said Eyeliner Girl, a beat too late. "I'm Laura."

"Nice to meet you," said Izzy. Nice, nice. Let Laura be nasty; Izzy would be nice. Meeka leaned against the bar, rattled the ice in her Coke, and looked warily between them.

"Bloody Maria," said Laura to the bartender, and Izzy winced. Tomato juice and tequila were their own punishment. "Anyway." Laura turned back to Meeka, pointedly ignoring Izzy. "Like I was saying, you really have to see it at night, it's a completely different experience..." She sidled closer to Meeka and tried to put an arm around her. Meeka sidled away. Laura looked at her arm with a briefly puzzled frown as if something hadn't gone the way she'd expected but she wasn't quite sure what or how. Izzy wondered if this was her first Bloody Maria.

"Mmhm," Meeka mumbled into her Coke, not very encouragingly, but Laura was apparently the sort of girl who didn't need much encouragement.

"Great!" said Laura. She scooted over again, and so did Meeka. Izzy stayed where she was. If this went on, Meeka was going to end up plastered against her, which seemed like a fine plan to Izzy. "So let's go, I'm parked right at the corner; it'll be fantastic."

"I really don't think that's a great idea." Meeka backed up a little more so that she really did bump into Izzy, and she looked over her shoulder like she was startled, but the message she was telegraphing with her face was something different:
Get rid of her, damn it.

Izzy grinned and put an arm around Meeka's waist; instead of pulling away, Meeka snuggled up closer. Meeka's butt settled against her belly, her back pressed up against Izzy's breasts, and the end of one of her braids tickled Izzy's collarbone. It was enough to make Izzy's mind go blank for a moment, and to forget exactly why they were entangled this way, and where they were, and quite possibly her own name. The look on Laura's face suggested that she was feeling equally gobsmacked, but she still didn't go away. Clearly, stronger measures were required.

"Hey, Laura," said Izzy, "how many goths does it take to change a light bulb?"

Laura's face seemed to remember how to have expressions and rearranged itself in a sneer. "I don't remember talking to—"

"Two. One to not change the light bulb because 'I like the dark'," Izzy said in a spooky vampire voice, "and the other one to fuck off."

Meeka rested her head in the crook of Izzy's neck. "Thanks for the dance," she said. "It was nice meeting you."

Laura wasn't entirely impervious to the clue-bat. After another minute of angrily drinking her Bloody Maria, she seemed to decide that she'd rather find someone else to pester than continue to spite Izzy and Meeka with her presence and wandered off.

"So, um, Izzy," said Meeka. "If you wanted to, you could let go now."

Izzy nearly opened her arms and started to brush off the whole thing with a joke, but—there had been that
if you wanted to
. And, Izzy decided, she didn't want to. She squeezed tighter instead. "Don't feel like it."

There was a little hitch in Meeka's breath when she said, "Okay." Izzy stroked down Meeka's hip, gave her ass a little squeeze, and felt her breath quicken where her ribs touched Izzy's chest, but she didn't object to that either; after stiffening for a startled second, she went very relaxed. The slice of smile that Izzy could see on the side of Meeka's face was lazy and blissful.

"Hey," whispered Meeka. "What do you think my chances of getting laid tonight are?"

Izzy squeezed Meeka's ass harder. "Don't get smart with me, young lady, or I'll take you over my knee when we get back to my place."

There was no mistaking the wriggle that Meeka's bottom did at the suggestion, especially as it was resting right up against Izzy's crotch. Izzy's mood went from pleasantly turned on to urgent so fast it made her stomach twist
. "Promise?" said Meeka.

Izzy grabbed her arm and started dragging her unceremoniously towards the coatroom. "We'll see," she said.

*~*~*

The only trouble Meeka was having now was keeping her hands—and other parts—off Izzy long enough for them to get to Izzy's place. It wasn't as if they would have been the only ones to make out in the coatroom, as Meeka would have pointed out if her mouth hadn't been busy on Izzy's neck, starting right below the ear and sucking and licking her way down. She hadn't gotten very far when she felt her head being jerked backwards.

"Handles," said Izzy, a braid in each fist, holding Meeka's face tantalizingly close to her own. "I like these." She rocked her hips forward, making Meeka's already-short skirt ruck up as she pressed up against Meeka's leg. "You behave until we get home, or I don't think we're going to make it there." Izzy let go of Meeka's braids and stroked her cheek with the backs of her fingers. Meeka tried very hard to stay still. "And on the whole I think that would be a shame. Don't you?"

"Uh-huh," Meeka managed to say, though it was less of a word and more of a strangled whimper. Izzy was right, of course; there was so much more they could do with a bed, and privacy, and time. Imagining herself laid naked across Izzy's lap, her ass in the air still stinging from a slap and tensed in anticipation of the next one, was very appealing. But that was exactly the problem. Meeka bit her lip and fidgeted while Izzy looked for their coats, and when Izzy's shirt pulled up and showed a bit of skin at the small of her back, Meeka reached out for her
before her brain could come up with any stupid objections.

"You just can't control yourself, can you?" said Izzy over her shoulder. "Here, I think I can help with that." She turned back to Meeka, holding her scarf stretched between her hands and an alarming grin on her face. "Turn around."

Meeka turned her back, wondering what Izzy meant to do. Would she tie the scarf around Meeka's eyes on the theory that she couldn't grope what she couldn't see? But it went around her left elbow instead, then Izzy reached for her right hand. Meeka relaxed, letting Izzy guide her, and soon the scarf was wrapped around her arms, tying her wrists to the opposite elbows. Izzy stepped back, and Meeka gave her bonds an experimental tug. They felt... secure. She could probably get out of them if she really wanted to, but she didn't.

Izzy draped Meeka's jacket over her shoulders with her bound-up arms hidden beneath it. Then she walked around to inspect her work from the front. "Perfect. Controlled and discreet." She tilted Meeka's chin up with one finger and kissed her lightly on the lips; Meeka tried to lean into the kiss and wobbled dizzily, finding herself unable to use her hands for balance.

"Steady there," laughed Izzy, putting a hand under Meeka's elbow and setting her firmly upright again. "Let's go."

Meeka didn't know how they made it the seven blocks back to Izzy's apartment. If it had been up to her, they probably wouldn't have, but it wasn't. She'd made sure not to have anything stronger than a Coke at the club. It didn't seem to have made any difference. She still felt giddy, cut loose from the world, just like she had the night before. Izzy had her arm around Meeka's waist again, and it was all Meeka could do to follow where she led, through the streets and up four flights of stairs, past the scuffed and dented door of Izzy's place.

It was a tiny studio in a crappy building with no elevator, where the hot plate and toaster oven took up most of the counter space and you had to squeeze past the closet and the single chair to get to the bed. But it was Izzy's, and only Izzy's; she didn't need to check if anyone was home or set up a warning system for returning roommates. As soon as they were in the door—and Izzy kept Meeka from falling one more time when she caught her heel on the edge of the carpet—the jacket slid off Meeka's shoulders as Izzy pushed her up against the wall, with her hands still cold from the outside underneath Meeka's shirt and her mouth hot on Meeka's. Meeka twitched at the scarf tying her hands again. She wanted to pull Izzy closer, to grab her ass and check if she was ticklish under her arms and a dozen things she'd thought about before and never done. And still couldn't do. There didn't seem to be any reason why that should be even hotter than if she could. She thrust her hips forward, and met nothing; Izzy was standing just out of reach.

Meeka moaned her frustration against Izzy's mouth, and Izzy laughed, still without breaking the kiss. She gave Meeka's right breast a squeeze through her bra, then, apparently finding the experience less satisfying than she'd hoped, scooted forward and got her arms around Meeka to try and deal with the fastening.

It was awkward to do with Meeka's arms tied the way they were, and Izzy had to take her face away from Meeka's—but she'd also moved close enough for Meeka to rub up against her. It sent an alarming flash of heat through her belly, even if it was not quite enough, not quite in the right spot, further down.

"You know," muttered Izzy conversationally, "I always used to laugh at guys when they complained about bra hooks. I mean, I do mine behind my back every morning, how hard can it be...? Turn around."

Meeka let out a whimper as Izzy stepped back, but she turned around without complaint. Her fingers twitched—maybe Izzy would untie her hands; it would make getting the bra off simpler, anyway—but when she got the fastening loose at last, she only pushed the bra straps down to Meeka's elbows. It left the cups to hang loose and empty, the underwires grazing her navel, and her breasts to fall free as well. Izzy caught them up, her hands warmer now but still sending shivers through Meeka as she rolled her nipples gently between thumbs and forefingers. Her breath was hot against the back of Meeka's neck, and Meeka's cheek was pressed against the wall. She could see every bump and scratch in the cheap white paint, and she was probably leaving darker spots with lipstick and general wetness. She licked her lower lip, where the skin was broken and sore from being nibbled too much.

Then Izzy let Meeka's shirt fall back into place, the filmy fabric against her sensitized nipples nearly as electric as a touch. Izzy braced herself against the wall with one hand and yanked Meeka's skirt up with the other, making her totter and gasp.

"All right there?" said Izzy, close by Meeka's ear.

It took Meeka a couple of tries before she could make words go. "... Yes," she finally managed. "Very yes?"

"Ah," said Izzy, halfway between a laugh and a satisfied sigh. "Damn, you're hot like this. I mean, you're hot anyway, don't get me wrong, but—" she walked her fingers along the curve of Meeka's belly, working her way inward from the hip, then slid her hand into the waistband of Meeka's underpants. Meeka nearly melted into the wall. "I mean—" Izzy wiggled her fingers further into Meeka's underpants, down the front of her pussy. "You're so sticky, I bet it wouldn't take ten seconds to get you off like this, with my hand, up against the wall, still mostly dressed, I bet you'd like that—"

Izzy's voice was low and frantic, saying all the right things, but her hand wasn't quite doing them. "Higher up," Meeka panted. "Harder."

"Magic word," said Izzy.

"Please." The word came from Meeka's mouth with a jolt, like the first crest of an orgasm. "Oh. Izzy, oh please Izzy—"

Izzy's breath against Meeka's neck was fast and harsh, and Meeka could feel the rise and fall of Izzy's chest where it pressed against her back. And Izzy's fingers, hot and slick now, found Meeka's clit at last, rubbing her off with firm, sure strokes.