Dream Girl

"Sweetheart?" Her mom's voice drifted in from the kitchen, but Des was already thundering up the stairs. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Des yelled,

"Oh! I'm so glad you're home! We've been worried!"

"I'm not staying," Des said, as she headed straight for her closet. "I'm just going to get a couple things and then I'm going over to Paige's."

"Oh my God," her mom said, as she came up the stairs. "Sweetheart, no!" Footsteps moving faster.

"Really Mom? Are we going to do this again?"

"You shouldn't stay there, Baby! Is that where you've been—"

"I'm gay, Mom! Paige and I are gay, and we're in love." Des jammed a few blouses from the rack into her bag, and shoulder past her mother to the drawers. Socks. Panties. What else? she thought.

"Oh my God!"

"This is a really shitty time to dig all that up."

"What's going on?" her Dad said, as he came into the room. "I heard yelling."

"She's staying at Paige's," her mom moaned, voice cracking.

Her Dad stopped, jaw slack, and stared at Des. "Sweetheart—"

"I really don't have the energy for this," Des grumbled, as she zipped up her bag.

"Baby," her Mom said, "you look so pale!"

"You can't stay there now," her Dad said, the two of them talking almost on top of each other.

Des grit her teeth and screamed as she pushed through them, hopping down the steps two at a time.

"Sweetheart! Wait!"

"No! I'm tired of people telling me what to do! I'm twenty-one! I've had enough of it!"

"Desdemona!" her Mother called, from the top of the stairs, but Des was out the door. She kept the radio off for the drive across town, and said nothing to anyone. She knew she was so on edge that she'd likely bite someone's head off if they so much as looked at her. She flipped off Xander on her way through the lobby without even turning in his direction.

It was a huge relief when she was finally back inside Paige's apartment. Everything else fell away. She was safe. Des shed her clothes on her way to the bedroom and breathed deeply as she crawled onto the bed. Paige would be there soon. She closed her eyes as she crossed her legs, and centered herself.

***

"Baby!" Des cried, charging Paige the moment she came through the door. Wearing nothing but her pale, freckled skin and a smile. She wrapped her arms around Paige and kissed her deeply. She didn't care how cliche it looked when her left foot rose up into the air behind her; she obeyed no master but her own urges, and right then she wanted nothing more than to be Paige's loving woman.

"Hey," Paige said, smiling crookedly as she tried to catch her breath a full minute later. "Did you miss me?"

"I hate it when you're gone," Des said, unable to pull herself away.

"I know."

Des shivered. Loving the confidence. The arrogance. Paige was a humble athlete in front of everyone else, in front of the world, but when it was just the two of them, Paige was so different. So much more aggressive. So dominant.

Paige smirked, shrugging one shoulder to drop her duffle bag, and hefted the gray plastic bag. "I brought dinner!"

"Good," Des said. "I'm starving. What'd you get?"

"Some tilapia," Paige said, as she opened the fridge, "and some fresh veggies for salads."

"God, that sounds delicious."

The brunette pulled out one of their non-stick pans and started warming a little oil in it while she puttered. Getting different things ready. Des sat down at their humble kitchen table, barely big enough for the two of them. She crossed her legs and leaned over the table, picking through the other items in the bag. She set the bag of spinach on the edge of the table, and then the wrapped fish next to that. Paige scooped up the fish and brought it to the counter before Des brought out the next item.

"Should I shred this?" Des asked, holding up a carrot. Paige nodded without looking away. The redhead bounced to her feet and pulled the grater from underneath the counter and a paper plate to catch the shavings on, but the repetitive motion of the grinding soon had her mind wandering. She stared long and hard at Paige, as the gymnast shifted her weight from leg to leg. Causing those tight buttocks to sway. Des bit her lip and squirmed in her chair, thighs grinding against each other. As soon as the pile of orange flakes on her plate was even remotely the right size, Des set them down and reached further into the bag.

"What do you think about this?" she said, turning in her chair and sliding the dark green cucumber up and down the length of her slit.

Paige looked back over her shoulder, and her smile began to widen. "I can't remember you ever wanting it this much," she said, as she turned the heat off on the fish. Des gasped softly as she pushed the narrow end of the cucumber up against her opening and spread her legs even further. Slouching, and lifting her knees up.

"Is that bad?"

Paige's smile kept on widening. "Not at all."

Paige ran a hand through her unruly brown waves, tossing the lot to the left and causing it to rest over her head like a wave. Des let out a quiet little squeak when the gymnast's oversized t-shirt went up and off, largely because of the things it did to Paige's arms and sides. The definition. The tone. Paige smirked as she tossed her shirt onto the couch a little ways into the living room, and stood still. Both of them enjoying the sight of each other. Both of them putting on a show in their own way.

The gymnast was the first to go further. She put her hands on her hips and twisted her elbows out, turning her arms until her biceps were in silhouette. That crooked smile as she tensed her abs. Chest rising as she clenched her pecs, causing her breasts to swell within her navy blue sports bra. The deltoids, rising up over her shoulders. Two hard lines stood out in her neck, running from the insides of her clavicle to the back of her jaw in sharp relief.

Des moaned, soaking up every moment. The long green vegetable slid further and further inside her pussy. She clenched around it, squeezing, and shifted her hips so that she could perch her toes on the very edge of the seat of her chair. Her feet were a weakness for Paige, and even though she had no interest in taking the driver's seat just now, she still wanted her girlfriend to get off and get off hard.

Paige smirked again as she turned around and pulled her hair forward over her shoulder. Exposing her back. The sports bra came off quickly, leaving a ridged and hard-edged surface from her shoulders down to her waist. Des whimpered when Paige, still smirking over her shoulder, hooked her thumbs into her workout pants and slid them down.

Tanned, smooth orbs. Paige's ass was absolutely stunning. She made a mental note to get Paige to sit on her face soon. It had been too long.

She reached down with her left hand to gently stroke her clit. Des required a soft touch. A gentle, soothing brush with just the pad of the finger, as the cucumber slid in and out of her. And while the texture of the cucumber didn't quite stack up to the feeling of the one penis she'd ever had, the strain on her ring was still magnificent.

Paige was kneeling in front of her when she looked back up.

Des whimpered as Paige took hold of the end of the cucumber between her thumb and index finger, and pulled the length of it from within her. Paige's eyes were on her, but Des instead watched the cucumber as the brunette turned it around in her hand and bit off the slathered, narrow end. Heavy shivers up and down her back.

"Mmmmmm," Paige said, still staring. Chewing slowly with her mouth open so that the crunch was loud. So that Des could see her tongue rolling back and forth. That perfect tongue. Des continued to swirl her finger around her clit, and pulled at her pubic hair with her right hand. "You know I love it when you do that."

"I do," Des whimpered, pulling harder. Tugging at her mound.

Paige smiled. The cucumber spun in her hand, ending with the intact, rounded end pressed snugly against the entrance to the redhead's channel. Des whimpered. Slight pressure. Building pressure. She bit down hard on her lip and groaned as the pressure became too much. Dark green disappearing into her wet pink.

"Oh fuck," Des groaned. "More."

Paige rose up on her knees and leaned forward so that her torso hovered over Des'. She kept the cucumber moving, twisting in and out. Des swallowed hard. The brunette reversed her grip, with her thumb pressed over the end with the bite out of it, and worked it faster. The ends of Des' brows came down, in pitch-perfect mimicry of pain, as she ran her finger around and around the bud of her clit. Tugging mercilessly on her tangled tuft of orange. Paige's left hand came up sharply, gripping tightly just below her jaw. Squeezing.

Des' eyes popped. Here it was. The step she'd always wanted Paige to take. For years she'd been aching to put her life in Paige's strong hands, literally and metaphorically, and submit herself to that. She tried to cry out but her airway was completely closed off, and instead all she produced was a strangled squawk.

"Sing, little bird."

Tears welled in her eyes. Paige hovered over her, inches away and yet watery and out of focus. Instantly wet everywhere. Running down her cheeks. 'Little bird' had been a nickname Paige hadn't used for her in nearly a decade, not since they were in middle school, and the sudden addition of it to what was already new territory was too much. Linking how long they'd been friends with breaking down barriers. Tying the ends of their relationship together, and wrapping that around a gushing, toe-curling orgasm.

And it was. Gushing. Toe curling. Cheeks so flush with color that Des was sure she could put a sunset to shame. Paige started kissing her before she released her hold, and it occurred to Des that that would be a really good way to go.

It was such a slow thing when Paige relaxed her grip. Des almost didn't notice the return of air because the high lasted so long. The delirium. The disaffected, disassociated dissonance; head in a place of calm while her body twitched and spasmed. The hand itself stayed in place, curled around her throat possessively. Owning her continued existence. She lived because Paige allowed it.

There was nowhere in the world Des would rather be.

The kiss lasted long after the orgasm ended. Long after Paige's hand moved from her throat. Long after the cucumber vacated her. Minutes on end. Her hands roamed over Paige's cheeks, back through her wavy brown strains. She held Paige very close. Legs wrapped around Paige's waist.

"Now," Paige said, finally breaking free with a smile. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"Shut up," Des said, groaning slightly from the magnificent ache of trying to sit up in her chair. Every muscle hurt beautifully. "But yes. I am hungry."

Paige got right back to work on the fish. She smirked over her shoulder as she put on an apron, to cover herself from the oil heating in the pan. Des loved the way it exposed the sides of Paige's wonderful breasts, and the way the looped knot perched on the crest of Paige's ass.

It had been way too long since she'd had Paige sit on her face.

The gymnast looked back over her shoulder and smirked when Des started touching herself again.

"I can't help it," Des moaned. "You just look... so..." It didn't take much. She was already so wet. She went straight for her clit. Straight for the orgasm. She couldn't get enough. She would never get enough of Paige. "Oh fuck." Paige merely smirked at her, continuing to season their tilapia, as Des played gently with her nipple. "I can't..."

Paige wiggled her hips playfully. Rolling one foot up onto the ball and then the other. "Do you need help?"

"No," Des whimpered. "I'm so close... Fuck, I'm so close..."

Paige struck like lightning, bringing her open, calloused hand back and around to spank herself deafeningly, and the soft coo it brought to her lips was enough to push Des over the edge.

"Here," Paige said, kissing her cheek and setting the plate down in front her while she was still writhing in place.

Des looked up at her, one-eyed because she could only manage to open the one, with adoration and bliss. The sliced-up cucumber in her bowl of salad kept her blood singing, and she thought briefly—but seriously—about trying for a third orgasm.

"Eat."

"Yes ma'am," Des mewled. Paige sat down across from her, having kept the apron on, and they ate quietly together. Sharing the occasional eye contact and smile. "This is delicious."

"Thank you." Paige chewed for a moment longer, and looked over intently. "Big day tomorrow."

"Is there more rice?"

"No." The gymnast took another bite, pausing for a beat, before continuing. "Tomorrow?"

"I'm not going."

"... At all?"

Des looked up, frowned, and then gestured around with her fork. "Why would I?"

"That's not what I would have wanted," Paige said, with a flat expression.

"It's stupid. No."

"This was a mistake."

"What?"

Paige shook her head. "I shouldn't have let you in here."

"What are you—"

***

"—talking abooout," Des grumbled. She rolled to her side, surprised to find herself on her bed, and shook her head. "No. No." Des pressed her palms into her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Working pressure points to alleviate the strain. "No. No. No."

She took another deep breath and laid back down. The clock on Paige's nightstand read 9:14 pm. I can do this, she thought, as she stretched her legs and laid her arms out flat beside her. I can do this. She focused on her breathing. Deeply, in and out, from the diaphragm. Her feet and ankles, feeling very heavy. Her hands, very heavy. Calves and knees.

One by one, she thought about relaxing every part. Putting it to sleep. Turning off the lights as she vacated her body and retreated bit by bit. Locking all the doors behind her. All the way up to her shoulders. Letting her cheeks go slack. Her body felt very heavy, very sluggish, and she swelled with hope when the paralysis set in. When her body felt so heavy that she couldn't have moved a muscle if she tried.

Patience. With time and patience, the moment came where she felt that tug. Her body falling into sleep, falling into blackness, while her mind was still sharp and aware. I'm coming, she thought. I'm coming, Baby.

***

Des twitched, and the movement scared her. It was dark. She pressed her hands down into the bed and turned. 2:37 am.

"No," Des croaked. The last thing she could remember was laying down. No dream. "No!" Her arms started shaking, more and more, as she looked around frantically. "I can't be here!"

She closed her eyes to try and lay back down, but her whole body was moving too much. Shaking. Convulsing. The physical terror too much to overcome. "I can't stay here," she moaned. "I can't stay here!"

The wall beside their bed thumped loudly. Des screamed right back, at the top of her lungs, and once the screams started coming out of her she couldn't make them stop.

***

"Sweetheart!" Des' mom said, as she hustled over and gave Des a big hug. Des tried to reach her arms around too, but there was a terrible numbness that kept them at her sides. "Come on. Come with me."

She took Des by the shoulders and guided her into the square building. The redhead lacked the strength to fight her, or the awareness to know where she was going until they were already in the bathroom.

"You look beautiful," her mother said, as she fussed over her hair. Des knew that she didn't. She looked like death, but she was grateful for the lie. "We were so worried about you."

"Is... it's..." Des' voice was rough. Her throat hurt. Everything hurt.

"Don't worry. Everything's already been taken care of."

"It's going to be small, right? She wanted it small."

"Her brother was in charge of it."

Des nodded weakly. Nathan Everett was a good man. "What about—"

"He took care of everything. I promise."

"She didn't want a big service."

"Sweetheart..." Des' mom hugged her tightly, lip quivering.

"It's going to be small, right?"

"Yes, Baby. It's going to be small."

Des nodded tiredly.

"Have you eaten anything yet?"

Des shook her head. Her mother slid one of the straps down her arm and fished through her purse, producing a package of peanut butter crackers from its depths within seconds. The crackers tasted like ash.

"She liked this dress," Des said, staring down at herself.

"Of course she did."

"Does it...does it look okay?" She reached down to tug at the orange and white flower print skirt, but her mother took her wrists and held them.

Another minute together, with her mother adjusting a little here and there, and the two of them went back outside. It was a beautiful morning, with the dew all gone except in the deepest of shadows. They walked together, mother holding daughter, through the rows of stones to the covered area where a small group was already gathering. Paige's mother and father were both there, but she didn't have it in her to approach them.

Des sat in front, staring without really seeing. Her mother held her. Several others came up to put flowers on the wooden box, and Des was suddenly overcome with anxiety that she hadn't brought any. Her mother squeezed her hand, but it was beyond her to keep the hysteria at bay. It was at that moment that she realized that Paige's casket was closed, and she thought that someone must have forgotten to open it. Des was on her feet, with her hands on the box, before anyone knew what was happening. In her confusion Des tried to lift the arm, the bar by which the coffin was carried, rather than the lid, and she was unable to budge it before her mother and Paige's brother reached her.

When the preacher, a friend of the family, resumed, Des couldn't listen. She turned her head, and was surprised that the gated fence around the edge of the cemetery was lined with people. Many of them holding signs. Lots of rainbows. She could only read a few from that distance, but the number of them surprised her.

Some of the signs were too low to clear the top of the fence, and she couldn't read them through the grating. They were being held by girls too small, or too young, to hold them very high. Those hit her the hardest.

***

"Sweetheart? There's someone here to see you."

Des looked up from her parents' couch with a frown. She wasn't sure she was in any shape to talk to anyone, but couldn't see how to say no when they were already in the door. She looked down at herself, almost surprised to see that she was still wearing the same floral-print dress. She stood, trying in vain to brush out some of the wrinkles it had accumulated over the last twelve hours, and took a deep breath. Her mother came around the corner a few seconds later followed by a face she recognized but had never met. Shorter than Des expected, but the short black hair was unmistakable.

"It's Des, right?"

"Hi."

"I'm-I'm Dani. I was—"

"I know," Des said, finally finding enough strength in her arms to hug someone back. Dani Serrastretta had been the only other gymnast to be on both the 2012 and 2016 teams with Paige. She was also the only person in the USA Gymnastics program to know Paige was gay before coming out after the 2016 Games. Dani hugged her back tightly, and tucked her head into Des' shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Paige used to talk about you all the time."

Dani laughed and nodded, and they sat down on the edge of the couch. "Sorry for just, you know... coming over. Like this. I mean, we've never met, but I-I had to come."

Des nodded and wrapped her arms around her middle.