The Storm Ch. 03 of 03

Hey everyone, this is the conclusion for "The Storm". Sorry about the delay – there's always tons of distractions.

Please give me your feedback; whether you loved or hated the story and why – and keep an eye out for my next story.

You might like it.

Enjoy!

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Sonya couldn't sleep.

She had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours. She actuallyhadbeen tossing in bed for hours - but let's be honest here - there's hours and then there'shours.

It's a perception thing.

Time has a nasty habit of slowing down in bad situations. You might notice it sometime in your life. You'll be driving - bored and more-or-less going through the motions when, suddenly, a danger will present itself. A fuzzy (probably adorable) animal darts onto the street. A person doesn't look both ways before stepping onto the road. Something happens.

Disaster will be moments or seconds away and time will seem to slow - just for a moment - while your brain tries to figure the situation out.

Your brain runs the numbers.

Or you'll simply witness an accident - somebody else's disaster - and you'll unconsciously slow a little bit as you pass by. People have a sort of mental and physical deference for disaster. We tend to take a moment to pay our little two-cent mental tribute before carrying on with our day.

But sometimes - unfortunately - you are at the heart of the disaster, and others are the ones driving past. The spotlight's on you.

You are the center of the storm.

It's not fun.

Sonya had cheated on her fiance Steve yesterday. She had gotten drunk and met somebody new and nice and handsome from her class and he had offered to help her when nobody else would and they had a few drinks together and things got out of hand.

And then she had failed to tell Steve about what she had done when he arrived unexpectedly the morning after, offering her comfort and apologies and saying everything and doing everything she had wanted him to say the day before.

And she couldn't tell him.

She had tried - she really had. Instead, she had fucked him like the whore she felt she was until he begged off for a break and then she had dithered around her apartment and frittered her time away and gone to bed early because she didn't know what the next step was and going to bed is rarely a bad choice when you're tired and lost and confused.

Sonya didn't have a game plan.

She didn't even know where to start.

Tell him.

Don't tell him.

Why?

Why not?

He loves me.

He won't love me if I tell him.

Her thoughts repeated endlessly along these same basic patterns.

So instead of taking the time to deal with her problems, Sonya tossed and turned in her rumpled, slightly stale smelling bed - a little too conscious of the raw feeling emanating from her lady parts - as memories of the past two days played in her head again and again - unwanted and unasked for - like Christmas music in retail stores around the holidays.

She remembered Rick staring at her as he carried her over to her rumpled bed - they were attached at the waist. Each step he took jostled their connection a little and sent pleasurable waves of sensation coursing through her body. Neither of them noticed, or cared, about the horrendous state of her room. That's not what they were there for. Her arms were gently draped around him as their lips met - again and again. One of his hands was cupping her ass; hers were running over his developed body - she couldn't get enough of it.

They were only focused on each other. Only focused on one thing.

Panting with what could only be accurately described as barely restrained lust, he laid them onto the bed and continued where they had left off.

And visions of dick danced in her head.

Her consciousness played the memories again and again. They wouldn't stop. The thoughts wouldn't stop.

Touching him.

Smelling him.

Feeling him.

Each triggered different memories and each memory triggered more of exactly what she was trying to avoid so she could drift off. She tossed in her bed. Were she a cat - her tail would have been swishing. Bristly. Angrily. She had to make do with sheets and panties

He was on top of her. She could feel herself spread tightly around him, pulling him in - urging him onwards. Their eyes made contact as entered her completely - again and again. She moaned - she couldn't stop moaning - she was on fire. His mouth found hers and their tongues met and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his lips on hers as she felt his hand caress her breast and ass while the other tangled in her hair.

His hips began slamming into her, making Sonya howl with pleasure. This wasn't anything delicate or timid or half-hearted about what they were doing - this was about complete indulgence.

Yeah - she was going to fall asleep any minute now.

Sighing, Sonya gave up all pretence and fumbled over around her nightstand, looking for her cellphone - it's harsh light temporarily blinding her as she looked for the number.

It wasn't that late.

Yet.

She needed to talk to someone.

Fucking men.

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Have you ever gotten away with something you knew, deep down, you shouldn't have?

It sucks.

Well, that's not true.

/Sometimes/ it sucks.

Getting away with things sucks because human beings are generally conditioned to feel guilty.

Sometimes with good reason - sometimes not.

The rich guilty of being rich. The poor guilty of being poor. The middle class guilty of being middle class.

Guilty for being fat.

Guilty for being skinny.

Guilty for being stupid.

Guilty for being average or mediocre.

Guilty for being excellent.

Guilty for cheating.

Guilt inevitably results in that feeling of negative pressure - emotional weight. Spiritual weight.

What's really important is that you discover a way to relieve that weight - that negative energy.

For some people, it's food; they tend to be fat. For others, it's sex; they tend to be sluts. Other people deal with their problems by ignoring them completely - they tend to be buffoonish. Some people drink. Some people use drugs. Some people escape with movies or video games or television series or music or news or the internet.

Others exercise. Others fight. Others still create art.

Usually, it's some tangled combination of the above.

For most people, though - it's the simple act of sharing the burden. Trusting another with the proverbial luggage. Because as strange as it may seem sometimes, another's problems and weights are often easier to carry and manage than our own. People who don't have that special confident can hire trained professionals if they have enough money to cover sessions.

God bless capitalism.

But, usually, we trade - and the trade itself makes trading easier.

Sort of cool if you think about it.

For Sonya - it was one person. Most people have one person. You're actually pretty lucky if you have more than one.

Sarah.

Sarah was the person Sonya would immediately call if she ever needed to dispose of a body. Or if she won the lottery. Or if she got pregnant. Sarah was the person Sonya called when Steve had proposed to her. Sarah was also the person Sonya had immediately called to help her move her stuff a few days ago - who had wished her luck and a smiley face.

The bitch.

But Sonya loved her friend - very and truly - for a variety of reasons.

One of them being that she was somebody you could call late at night to meet up with to eat junk food with and bitch about boy issues without worrying about the inevitable gossip the following morning that you would when you confide in someone who doesn't really have your best interests in mind. Some people couldn't keep their mouths shut - Sarah couldn't - but she didn't ever air dirty laundry.

It's actually a really valuable trait.

A few moments after Sonya had accidentally knocked a variety of items off her nightstand looking for her little black phone, she had texted her friend proposing a late night hang out and promptly received a reply filled with shorthand expletives and enthusiasm for the idea.

She was probably drunk.

She did that.

Often.

Whatever. Nobody's perfect.

Somehow managing to approximately convey the emotional exhaustion of everything that happened to her in the past few days with a single frustrated, dramatic sigh, Sonya threw off her blankets and started fishing through the pockets of several of her pants that lay strewn about. Her room was still very much resembled a disaster area.

She was trying to figure out which one had her car keys.

And her wallet.

Fuck.

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Sonya picked up her friend and brought her to a nearby coffee store.

Sarah had barely finished clasping her seatbelt on when Sonya began an impressive monologue about everything that had happened. Sonya confessed, she confided, she even manage to convey a little - from beginning to end. Her friend sat and did something extremely difficult that the best of friends seem to effortlessly do - she listened and made minimal interruptions. Sonya told her friend about the move, the beer, the sex, the morning after, the sex, the guilt and the sex.

They had entered the coffee store around the same time that Sonya was wrapping up her confession and took a seat at a nearby table.

"Well then. What's his name?", Sarah asked a moment after her friend trailed off - her tone nonchalant, her face being pancaked by her palm of her hand as she rested her face on it. Her moderately long hair blonde hair cascaded over her out-of-season (but still lovely looking) leather jacket.

She looked a little pixie.

An unengaged pixie.

Listening can be a little boring, sometimes.

"Rick", said Sonya - a little perturbed at her friend's reaction (or lack thereof).

"Rick what?" asked Sarah, shooing loose bangs away from her face unsuccessfully by blowing in their general direction. Giving up after a few moments, she tucked the rebellious strands behind her ear. The look in her friend's sharp green eyes conveyed an intelligence that she didn't often express in explicit fashion.

Like getting drunk late at night on a weekday, for example. It's why Sonya was usually the one driving. Sarah usually acted the confidante, Sonya usually acted the designated driver.

They had a system.

It worked.

Usually.

"Rick... ... uhh"

Sarah narrowed her eyes.

"You don't even know his last name? You are such a whore".

"I do, too!" Sonya replied a little sharply, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Acting like they weren't. Her friend was right, but the words were still harsh to hear.

Honesty is like that.

"I'm just tired, okay. Leave me alone".

A moment passed.

"So... how was it?" Sarah asked with a wide toothy grin - her eyes lit up with the question. She had always had a dirty mind. The lusty drunk - a bad combination. Sonya had been subjected to it for years.

It had probably warped her without her realizing it. You hang out with the abyss, and the abyss hangs out with you.

Dear lord.

That explained everything.

Sonya just stared at her friend though. She had just confessed her deepest, darkest secret to her most trusted confidante and her first real question was to ask her about the sex. She stared into her petite friend's green eyes for a moment, a little taken aback, before diving into the answer.

To be perfectly honest, Sonya couldn't wait to tell her - to tellsomeone.

But that didn't make it right.

"Rick wasamazing" she gushed.

Sonya talked at length about the specific nuances of the sexual performance. After a few minutes, an older couple within earshot of their table was forced to leave because the old man's attention kept getting drawn to the hushed, but incredibly explicit, description of her encounter with Rick. His wife looked...displeasedat his obvious interest in the conversation. She punched him in the arm, sort of hard, after he completely ignored a question she had been asking.

What? he asked, annoyed.

The motions the dark featured one was making to illustrate her points were distracting.

Very distracting.

Even though their nightly coffee was half-finished, it was clearly time to leave.

Heartburn, you see.

Sure.

Dear penthouse.

After Sonya finished explaining every nuanced detail of her recent sexual encounter , she was hit with a wave of fatigue. The weight was shared, the burden lifted. All was well. Except for the problem itself, of course, but that was for tomorrow's Sonya to deal with.

Today's Sonya was ready to sleep. Sugary, creamy coffee would clearly compliment the problem.

Another example of great decision making.

And her vag was a little sore - not that she would ever say such a crass thing out loud - but it was true, goddamned it. She shifted a little uncomfortably.

Sarah stood up as she saw her friend sag with fatigue.

"You want anything?"

"Just coffee. God, I need coffee" - Sonya's muffled voice replied.

"Gotcha'. Something large and black coming right up to help make you feel alive again".

She grinned an impish smile as she moved to stand in line.

Even though Sonya was naturally dark featured, her blush felt like it was becoming visible.

Several of the customers turned to glance at her friend's attractive backside as she glided towards the counter. Amazing what some people can pull off in frumpy sweatpants with the words "Dat ass" written in big bold letters on it. Several of the observers appeared to be biting their lip in obvious appreciation of the sight.

Whore.

A few minutes passed while Sonya rested her head on her arms. She was falling asleep when Sarah returned with their drinks, her pastry - and still managed to (somehow) have one hand free to navigate her cellphone. One of the perks of being a waitress - you learn that kind of balance and coordination and then make it look effortless. The food industry's ballerina.

"Was Rick Ropling his name?" Sarah asked with feigned disinterest as she returned with her sinful smelling pastry and their beverages.

Sonya's head shot up as recognition fired a warning shot across the port bow.

"How did you know that?" she asked, mystified.

"What do you mean? He wrote on your wall a few minutes ago." she replied casually as she surfed the web with one hand and stuffed her face with the other. Sarah always had been more techno-savvy then her friend; Sonya didn't really use computers all that often. Her boyfriend had bought her the phone a little while ago - but she didn't use it for much except for texting and phone calls. She usually leaned more towards a "do something with somebody, sometime" kind of girl.

And look how that had turned out.

Moving on.

Sonya was still processing her friend's sleuthing when her friend exclaimed - a slightly husky note in her voice;

"/Oh/".

"What is it?" Sonya asked, curious.

Sarah's eyes were wide. Shock? Amazemet? What was it? Sonya angled her head to try and see what was on the tiny screen.

Her friend saved her the trouble and turned the phone towards Sonya and the sight of a familiar pack of abs confronted her. A wave of memories flooded back and her cheeks reversed their cooling process. Sarah's mouth was full of half-chewed pastry and icing (ew) as she exclaimed;

"/You/ had sex with /that/?" Sarah asked, incredulously (in a slightly distorted tone).

Sonya was mortified at her friend's behaviour - who DID that? - but was more insulted by the comment.

"Hey! What the hell does /that/ mean?" she replied.

"Darling... I'm gay but I would seriously consider backtracking to bisexuality for this man".

Sonya snatched the phone out of her friend's grasp.

That's when Sarah proposed a threesome.

Sonya smiled (it was more of a tug of amusement on one side of her mouth, but close enough) and gave a polite little laugh.

She stared at the picture for a moment before looking up at her friend again.

Dead serious.

Whoa.

"You're... you're serious?"

"Come on, Sonya - don't be a prude. You can introduce us, he can buy us drinks and then...".

Sonya became a little... uncomfortable... with the way her friend was staring at her as she trailed off, accompanied by a dreamy-ish smile. Her friend's pinky trailed along her lips in a distracting fashion and her face took on a particularly /naughty/ look. Sarah looked positively predatory at that moment, looking at her friend. Sonya felt like a deer in headlights - just for a moment.

"Stop it," she said to her friend, in a civil, polite tone that only carried with it the hint of a snarl.

"Stop what?", Sarah asked - her eyes seeing something Sonya couldn't.

That thousand yard stare.

"You're clearly thinking about the three of us naked in a hot tub. You've told me, despite my repeated protests, about your goddamn sexual fantasy a hundred different times before. It's not going to happen."

Her friend's only response was a dreamy little smile that curved her beautiful mouth in a sensual fashion. Sarah's fingers beat a distracting beat on the table as her other hand played with her slightly tousled silky blonde curls and her eyes went out of focus, visualizing something only she could see. Sonya's imagination drifted for a moment as she looked at her friend - just for a moment - and she pictured the scene; Rick and her, together in a hot tub. Her best friend - another beautiful woman - running her hands over his body - over her body - and what it would be like with three of them.

Rick pushed into Sonya from behind and she gave a delighted whimper, despite herself. His strong hands snaked around her toned waist, pulling her into him, as she arched herself back, her face a pure expression of delight; eyes closed, gasping like in rapture. He entered her slowly, tantalizingly, an inch at a time. Her hands laid against his hips - feeling him - slowing him without the need for words. His hands travelled over her body, caressing her.

His hips began a slow, steady rhythm and she moaned at the familiar sensations. A gyration there - a tilt there - every little bit made it that much better. She was aware of the jets of the hot water on her skin, massaging her legs with jets and motion and heat as they stood together just above the water's edge - and the comfortable contrast it made with the comfortably cool fresh night air.

It was heaven.

His teeth and lips nibbled at her ear, her shoulder, her neck. He whispered the vilest nothings into her ear in the most loving tone. Sarah was there, too - in front of her - she and Rick were talking to each other what they were both going to do to her as they did it. Sonya was biting her lip, eyes closed, whimpering a little and beginning to lose control as the tip's of her friend's breasts brushed tantalizingly against hers as her hands drifted and teased ever lower.

Both of them were kissing her body, touching her, enjoying her - and she felt so warm - so comfortable - so safe - so hot - between the two people she loved the most in... all-

...aaand we're back. Rick was a great guy, but she didn't love him.

...

Did she?

"No", Sonya said firmly - a hard tone in her voice. Sarah looked so sad then, like a puppy that had just been gently swatted on the nose for relieving itself all over your favorite sweater. Poor guy. That look had been the downfall of many a woman - and man - but not her, not today. Puppy needs to take it's threesome elsewhere.

Bad puppy.

Baww.

Sonya took the moment of cold-heartedness to firmly reign in her imagination. Jesus. She really had been a horndog lately. Or Sarah's nymphomaniac tendencies were contagious.