She's With Me Read online

  "The skirt, too. Let's see what we've got to work with."

  Meeka started wiggling out of her skirt—and damn it, she was biting her lip again. Was that how it had gotten so sore? With a deliberate effort, she composed her face and stood up in her bra and underpants. Granny panties, plain and functional, but they were clean and they didn't have holes. At least Meeka thought not. She tried to look over her shoulder and unobtrusively examine the waistband, when the absurdity of it all struck her and she sat down hard on the bed, her hair falling forward over her face as she collapsed in a fit of helpless giggles.

  "Something you want to share with the class?" Izzy was standing over her, combing her hair back with her fingers. "No hiding behind your hair if you want to keep it."

  "Sorry," Meeka gasped. "Sorry, it's just—I don't even know. Are you really...?" She twined a lock of hair around her fingers, and her voice came out smaller than she'd meant it to. "Are you really going to get rid of my hair?"

  Izzy scooted up behind Meeka on the bed and got a brush out of one of the bags. She had a surprisingly gentle way with a hairbrush, maybe because her own hair was so curly and she'd learned to be careful of it. All Meeka knew was that it only took a couple of strokes before her eyelids got heavy and she was practically purring.

  "Mm," said Izzy, running Meeka's hair through her fingers thoughtfully. "We do want to open up your face a little more, you know? You've got good cheekbones and cute little ears; it'd be a shame not to let them show. Maybe bangs. I'd leave it a little longer here, but not too long." Izzy's nails grazed the side of Meeka's face: temple, cheek, jaw. Meeka tried not to laugh, or snuggle back against Izzy too obviously.

  "Jo let me in on her way out; do you know when you're expecting her back?" Meeka, dazed, tried to remember who her roommate was or why Izzy should be asking about her. "She's not gonna be walking in on us, is she?" Izzy went on, her voice a low buzz by Meeka's ear.

  "Oh! Um, she has a shift... at the bookshop... so, no?" Walking in on us doing what?

  "Good!" Izzy scooped up a couple of her bags and started for the bathroom. Meeka trailed after her. "I'm not going to cut your hair on your bed!" Izzy called over her shoulder.

  It took a little trial and error to find the right position—and Meeka fell into giggles again at the way she'd phrased the thought—but finally Izzy had Meeka perch on the side of the tub in front of the mirror while she plied her shiny, sharp scissors. Meeka looked at herself in the mirror, at Izzy hovering at her shoulder or her back, at the snips of hair falling away. It was uncomfortable. And hot. Meeka saw as well as felt the blush starting to creep up her neck and tried to turn away in embarrassment, but Izzy took hold of her chin and said, "Hold still."

  Meeka gripped the edge of the tub tightly, and made a noise she didn't know she could make—a sort of whine deep in her chest. Izzy kept cutting.

  When that was done, Izzy got out gloves and bleach and the promised hair dye and put in some turquoise streaks, saying something about accents and the shape of Meeka's face or whatever. Meeka sat until her butt was sore, rinsed and dried her hair and put on the clothes Izzy had in her bags. The skirt was tight enough that she nearly balked, but all her other clothes were in her bedroom, and Izzy was standing between her and it with a determined look in her eye. The shirt was loose and flowy and decorated with pretty floral embroidery. It was only when Meeka glanced at the mirror again that she saw how sheer the fabric was, and how low the neckline plunged.

  "Nice," said Izzy, coming up behind her with a brush again. She did Meeka's hair in two neat braids that just brushed her shoulder blades. "There," she added with a final tug on one of the braids. "Now you've got nowhere to hide."

  Meeka ducked her head experimentally. The longer bangs towards the sides of her face fell forwards, but they didn't have the weight she was used to, and they did nothing to obscure the sight of Izzy grinning back at her beyond the strands of brown and blue.

  The front door of the apartment slammed. Was that Jo back already? How long had they been at this? "I think we'd better vacate the bathroom," said Izzy.

  "Oh, um," said Meeka, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

  Izzy laughed. "Don't worry, you look great. Ask Jo if you don't believe me. Or I will if you're too shy."

  "Wait—" said Meeka, but Izzy had already flung open the bathroom door, leaned out, and shouted, "Hey, Jo!"

  She heard the sound of Jo's bag thumping down on the coffee table. "Hey, Izzy. I'm not deaf. Or I wasn't. What's up?"

  Meeka pressed up against the bathroom tiles and tried to meld into them by sheer force of will. Unfortunately, willpower wasn't Meeka's strong point, as the last couple of days had demonstrated pretty well. She was obviously visible when Izzy came back in a second later, with Jo right behind her. Damn it, Jo was looking at Meeka's breasts, too. Jo never looked at anything; sometimes she absentmindedly walked into door frames.

  "Pretty good, huh?" said Izzy.

  "Wow," said Jo.

  "It'd be better if she wasn't all scrunched up in the corner like that, though. Come on, Meeka, show her."

  Meeka had given up pulling at her skirt and had her arms crossed, equally ineffectually, across her belly. "Izzy," she said through her teeth, "I am going to—"

  "Yes?" said Izzy. Unruffled, comfortable in jeans and a plain black top, gorgeous.

  Without thinking, Meeka stepped away from the wall, her arms held slightly out to the sides. It felt like diving, or flying. She did a slow turn and heard Jo's breath catch in appreciation.

  "Lovely," murmured Izzy. "I think we're ready to go dancing."

  *~*~*

  At least one of them was going to get laid this weekend. That was the idea, right? Izzy had promised Meeka, and besides, she felt—it was dumb, probably, the same feeling that had made her tuck Meeka into bed last night.

  And hell, it wasn't like it was going to be that difficult. In the back of Meeka's closet, Izzy had found a pair of knee-high boots with three-inch heels, probably the most Meeka could manage while dancing. At least, without—and Izzy smiled at the mental image—without more practice. Lots of practice, in higher heels, Meeka stumbling at first, but then getting better, giving Izzy that little glance from beneath her bangs, waiting for her approval.

  Here and now, Meeka was steady enough on her boots, and the occasional wobble when she set a foot down wrong or hit a slick patch of sidewalk was very appealing, even if her body language was closed-in, self-conscious, and not at all ready to grab on to Izzy for support. But she'd agreed to go out in the new clothes—now covered up by a wool coat, alas—and the new hairstyle. Not that she'd have had too much trouble getting laid with the old clothes and the old hairstyle, but now she was going to have to fight the girls off with a stick.

  And if Izzy wasn't going to solve her own problem at a no-boys-allowed dance club, at least she'd have the satisfaction of being a good wing-woman and of seeing the rest of the world's reaction to her work. Also, Izzy reluctantly admitted to herself, she wanted to test her own reactions. She wasn't some sort of repressed virgin, or a bible-study groupie afraid of gay cooties, and she'd thought she'd known as much about her sexuality as there was to know. But nothing about what had happened last night or today added up, unless Izzy considered the possibility that she wanted to fuck Meeka's brains out.

  They ducked under the awning of the club, and Izzy tested her hypothesis by surreptitiously checking out the woman who waved them in. Tall, with short blonde hair, a halter top showing off the clean lines of her back. She was attractive enough in an angular way, but she wasn't doing anything for Izzy. Was Meeka looking, her eye caught by the bright stud in the woman's belly button? Meeka could never resist shiny things. But ogling the bouncer wasn't going to get them any closer to their goal, so Izzy grabbed Meeka's hand and pulled her into the coatroom.

  They almost collided with a couple of girls making out just inside the door. It was dark, so Izzy couldn't really continue her investigations into how cute she now found g
irls, and in any case they seemed pretty taken with each other. One of them had the other pressed up against the wall, hands tangled in her hair—okay, that was a little hot. But the way Meeka looked at them and then looked away, with her eyes downcast and shoulders pulled inwards in embarrassment—that was hotter than hell.

  Izzy hung up her jacket, then turned back to coax Meeka's coat off her shoulders, chivalrous-boyfriend style. Plus, left to her own devices Meeka might have stood dithering there for hours with the coat half-off. Izzy squeezed her shoulder encouragingly and Meeka gave a little jump. "Come on," said Izzy. "It's time to knock them dead."

  Meeka laughed, seeming self-conscious but pleased. "Really?"

  "Absolutely," Izzy assured her.

  As they got closer to the dance floor, and the music got louder, Meeka forgot her shyness. Her arms started to swing and her strides got longer, heels clicking on the floor in time with the beat, the streaks in her hair glowing under the ultraviolet lights. Izzy did her best to fade into the background and watched as a girl in a purple corset, motorcycle boots, and way too much black eyeliner came over and tried to get Meeka to dance.

  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.