Interlewd Four

Franny was waffling back and forth between being more angry than she’d ever been before and worrying herself sick. The roiling emotions were twisting around in her gut, and she was pretty sure that if she continued to feel this way, she’d be sick.

The church was too calm, which didn’t help. Earlier in the day she had chores to do, tasks that she could focus on to the detriment of all else so that she could push her worries back. The people Delilah--Gomorrah, she supposed--had saved from the sewers still needed help getting sorted, then the massive incursion had started and the church got to work sorting supplies and getting ready to provide a few temporary shelters.

Those shelters had remained empty for the moment. The incursion had, according to what she’s read, been stopped at the walls.

Delilah had been there, risking her life against overwhelming odds.

Franny had stared at too many drone-cam videos of the waves of aliens charging the gap in the walls. She’d even seen Delilah’s flames burning them down. They were hard to miss.

Then the call.

Franny wanted to punch Delilah in the nose.

She stomped through the church, past a few senior nuns who gave her space and then through the familiar corridors of the great building that had been her home and school her entire life.

The worry twisted in her gut again, and this time she wasn’t sure if it was just her worrying about Delilah’s safety or if it was more worry about the damnable call.

It hadn’t lasted long. Delilah had overridden all of Franny’s questions, which she supposed was fair. Delilah was a samurai now, she wasn’t the cute bumbling girl that followed Franny around like a lost puppy anymore, she was so much more than just that now, even if Franny missed that about her best friend.

Then Delilah had told Franny that she might die, and that she might, maybe, be in love with her.

“Where are you going, young mis--” Sister Margaret froze as Franny locked eyes with her. The older woman might have clued into the naked mix of conflicting feelings Franny was freely wearing. In either case, she shut up, picked up her habit skirts and walked off in a hurry.

Franny closed her hands into fists, then looked around for a place to calm down.

She had a bad reputation with the sisters already for being something of a hothead and for disregarding quite a few rules. Usually for good reason, but that didn’t always excuse her. When she was younger she’d gotten her share of switchings for her attitude. Now she was older and strong enough that last time they’d tried, she’d stolen the switch and given Sister Maeve a real reason to complain.

Grumbling to herself, Franny opened one of the doors in the corridor and peeked within. It was one of the classrooms, one she recognized. They’d done math in here once. The room had a few rows of old presswood desks and windows that would have overlooked the city if they weren’t covered in a blurry film.

Franny shut the door behind her, then she stood by the front of the room and focused on breathing.

“Delilah,” she whispered. The name came out of her with both frustration and longing.

She loved Delilah. Of course she did. For years they were the best of friends. She’d defended and helped Delilah countless times. They gossiped together, they pulled pranks together, they’d cried on each other’s shoulders and they had both seen enough of each other’s most embarrassing moments to write entire books about them.

Did she love Delilah though?

Franny growled and kicked the teacher’s desk with her very not-nun-like steel-toed combat boots. Right then, she didn’t have any sort of love for her blonde friend.

“What kind of bitch drops that kind of bomb on someone before jumping to their death,” she grumbled as she opened up a news site on her augs. There was a site dedicated to tracking samurai-related news in and around New Montreal. They’d announced the death of Nomad earlier.

Franny was dreading the idea of seeing an article about Gomorrah on there. She didn’t know what she’d do if that was how she learned that Delilah was dead.

She had some passing worry for Gomorrah’s new weirdo of a friend too, that Stray Cat girl who was clearly insane and probably not the best influence on Gomorrah. Had the confession been her idea? That woman was a raging lesbian if Franny ever saw one.

She’d kick her ass too, if she could.

Once, not so very long ago, she thought of samurai as basically saints. She hadn’t realized how much of the church's coolaid she had drunk until Delilah became one herself.

It was hard to think of someone as a saint when you had vivid memories of that person as a preteen waking you up at two AM because they’d had an accident and needed help covering it up.

Franny paused, then she kicked the desk again. It felt good.

There was no news about Gomorrah. She groaned. Was it better to have no news than to find bad news waiting for her? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out.

The door clicked, and Franny spun around, an excuse on her tongue already. She had just kicked the desk a few times. She might have been frustrated, but she understood that it was a little immature.

Then Delilah stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind her.

Her friend wasn’t in her samurai gear. It was a strange detail to notice, but Franny couldn’t miss it. Delilah was in one of the skirts Franny had bought for her. A knee-length dark blue thing that showed off her calves in a way that had made the sisters look on disapprovingly before Delilah became Gomorrah.

She had a blouse on, which was sticking to her skin, especially around her shoulders where Delilah’s wet hair was draped down. The blouse was part of their old uniform, with a little necktie and all, though Delilah had left it undone.

Franny stared at her best friend and Delilah, in turn, stared at the floor.

She stepped up to Delilah, then without thinking, slapped her friend across the face. Then, with a suppressed sob, she hugged Delilah close, squeezing her for all she was worth.

They stood there for a while. Franny holding Delilah close and soaking in her presence. The worry was bleeding off of her, she could almost feel the knots in her gut untangling as she held onto her friend. Delilah’s scent filled Franny. It was so familiar, so nice and...

Franny stepped back from Delilah just as Delilah’s hands started to hug her back.

She stared at her friend, who was finally daring to meet her eyes. There was a red mark on Delilah’s cheek, but she wasn’t moving to touch it. Franny imagined that it stung. She squashed the guilt.

“So?” she asked.

Delilah blinked. “So?” she repeated.

Delilah, for all that she was a bit of a shrinking violet sometimes, had really taken to the lessons they had about good posture and form, and her voice rang out with an authoritative tone. Franny knew better than to just listen to Delilah’s voice to read her. The trick was her friend’s eyes, they might as well be signboards telling the world what Delilah was really thinking.

At least, they were for Franny.

Franny stared at Delilah, and there was no missing the massive amount of guilt her friend was feeling. Worse, there was an unhealthy heaping of worry there.

Franny didn’t have to guess why. Delilah had just confessed before running off to maybe die.

Obviously, she was fine. Probably. She had all of her limbs and didn’t look hurt. The smack on her face notwithstanding, Delilah looked okay. She might have had some other injuries, and Franny would have no way of knowing with the way she was covered up, but...

No, Delilah wouldn’t confront Franny if she was injured. Delilah didn’t like confrontations like this one. She wouldn’t avoid them forever, but being injured was enough of an excuse that she’d take it and know that Franny wouldn’t judge her for it.

It was a weird twist of logic, but it felt right to Franny.

So she crossed her arms and glared at her best friend, her sister in all but blood, the girl she’d go to hell and back for, and who had just.. “Care to explain yourself?”

Delilah winced. It was just a tightening in the corner of her eyes, but it meant a lot. “I... Franny, I didn’t know if I would make it. Things were looking bad and. And I decided not to die with one more regret in my life. It was selfish. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Franny snapped.

She took a deep breath in, and Delilah remained silent. She knew Franny well enough to know that that had just been her venting a little.

“Fine. So you’re sorry. Did you mean it?” Franny asked.

Delilah glanced down, then forced herself to meet Franny’s eyes. Her cheeks now both had a slight tinge of redness to them. “Yes. I think. I... I don’t know, but I think so.”

Franny raised one of her eyebrows, the sort of judgemental looks the senior nuns were very good at. “Alright, tell me again.”

“Really, Franny?” Delilah asked.

Franny nodded. “Yes, really. I want us to be on the same page here.”

Delilah swallowed, closed her eyes for a moment, then shifted slightly to work off some of her nervous energy. Then she took a calming breath and met Franny’s gaze. “I love you,” she said.

They stared at each other for a long time, the three words floating in the air between them, spoken and impossible to take back.

Franny felt her face warming up. She knew that her freckles would make any amount of blushing she did very obvious. Delilah’s cheeks weren’t any better.

So Franny decided to switch the focus to something else. “Since when are you gay?” she asked.

Delilah stiffened a little. “I don’t know if I am?” she asked.

Franny blinked. “What?”

“I talked to Atyacus about, well,” Delilah made a vague gesture between them. She seemed as glad about the change in subject as Franny felt. Then her words registered and Franny felt a pang in her heart.

Delilah came to her when she needed to talk about stuff. That was their thing. They’d talk about their problems, about their silly dreams, they’d gossip and complain together while huddled up on the church’s roof, or in the kitchens when no one else was around.

Franie supposed that she shouldn’t be too hurt. Delilah could hardly come to her to talk about feeling... that way about her. That would have been strange. And the AI stuck in her brain was as good a candidate as any for sharing things with, Franny supposed.

It still stung a little. “What did he say?” Franny asked.

Delilah licked her lips, the motion catching Franny’s attention for a moment. “He said that, well, he can see my brain chemistry. And my augs allow him to see out of my eyes. I don’t think I’m gay?”

Franny blinked. “You are aware that I’m a woman, right?”

“Yes, I’m very aware,” Delilah said. “I think he just said that, I guess the term would be more, something akin to being attracted to, well, you, more than just women in general.” Delilah glanced away after that particular confession.

Franny worked her jaw. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was flattering, certainly. She pretended not to feel the fluttering in her stomach.

“I... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Delilah said. “I can go, if you want. I know it’s a lot to spring on you, I shouldn’t have--”

“No,” Franny said. She sighed. “Damn. You know I’d rather know this than not, right?”

“Yeah, I know you,” Delilah said. She smiled over to Franny. Just another, normal smile, like Franny had seen from Delilah a million times. Somehow though, this one made her feel different.

“Yeah, you do,” Franny said. There was a long silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t great either. Franny knew herself too. She was... probably not the ideal nun. She was by far too violent, too impulsive by half, and she cared more about helping people than preaching.

She was also, she was willing to admit to herself, a little bit attracted to women.

She stared Delilah up and down. Her friend was... well, frankly, Delilah was unfairly attractive. Franny liked women, she loved Delilah like a sister. There wasn’t much of a leap to make to go from one idea to the other, smash them together, and make Delilah very happy.

Franny wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that step.

Or maybe she wanted to but was worried of what it would mean for her, and for Delilah.

Worse, things had... changed.

Franny wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it to herself, but if Delilah had confessed just a month or two ago, before Delilah became a samurai, things would be different. A month ago, Delilah still needed Franny. Franny was her protector and friend and more.

Had Delilah approached her then, then Franny could imagine herself teasing and prodding and seeing how far they could go. The idea that it was forbidden wasn’t much of a deterrent for her. If anything, it made things more exciting.

Now... Now Delilah was the boss, and that made things different in a way that Franny still hadn’t gotten used to.

Unless.

Franny swallowed.

She had a very bad idea.

That had never stopped her from carrying out an idea before, though.

“What do you want out of all of this?” Franny asked. She recalled that strange samurai, the cat-themed one, and her equally weird girlfriend. At a glance, it was clear who led the two of them, at least in their private life. Lucy--was Lucy her name? Franny had only really interacted with her the one evening--wore the pants in that relationship, samurai or no.

“I don’t know,” Delilah said. She chuckled, low and throaty. “I guess I have more wishes than wants, if that makes any sense.”

“Wishes?” Franny asked. She was genuinely curious now. Plus it was just tangential enough to what they were discussing before that it didn’t feel as awkward.

Delilah glanced up, then back to the ground. “You’re going to call me sentimental,” she said. “But, I want both of us to be happy. Together, preferably, but happy most of all.”

Franny squirmed on the spot. The awkwardness had returned tenfold. Now Franny was fighting with something like shame. Delilah loved her. She’d known, about the more sisterly love, but this was a lot.

She exhaled hard. She couldn’t continue being on the backfoot, it was too much for her. So she struck from an angle that Delilah wouldn’t expect. “Did you ever do anything about it?” she asked.

“What?” Delilah asked.

It was a fair question, Franny barely knew what she was talking about herself. “I mean. You find me... attractive, right?”

“Very,” Delilah said without an ounce of hesitation.

Franny sniffed. “Well, did you ever do anything about it? I remember how much of a puritan you are, Delilah. I was always the one trying new things, right? So, did you?”

Finally, Delilah was surprised enough that her visage cracked. A beautiful redness spread to Delilah’s cheeks and even across the bridge of her nose. “Franny. I...” She shut her mouth with a click, then crossed her arms and looked away. “Yes.”

Franny felt her mouth going dry. She didn’t actually expect that as an answer. “So, is that something you want? Sex?”

Her friend glared. “I’m not an animal. I want more than just sex, Franny.” Delilah hesitated. “But yes. I’ll admit that I’ve had thoughts about that kind of thing before.”

Franny saw her chance. It was right there, an obvious, shining moment that she could take if only she wanted it. It was a risk, but she was nothing if not reckless. “And what did you imagine me doing to you in those thoughts?” Franny asked.

“Franny,” Delilah complained. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Franny said. “Let’s say we decide to see how all of this works out. What then? We go on a couple of dates? Which is basically just us hanging out like we’ve done a million times before. We share secrets and talk more? I doubt we could. What would actually change?”

“I... I guess not very much,” Delilah said. She sounded a little hopeful there. “I’m a samurai now. We could go to new places. I’d keep you safe.”

Franny frowned. She couldn’t fault Delilah for that. “Yeah, I guess you are. So that leaves one big new thing, doesn’t it?”

“Sex,” Delilah said. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Yeah, of course,” Franny said. “I bet love’s plenty complicated. But... okay, look... I...”

“You feel like you lost your place in our relationship,” Delilah said.

Franny blinked.

“And now you want to reassert it, if only in a limited way,” Delilah continued. “You want to be the one who runs the relationship itself. Nothing outside of that would change much. I’ll still be the samurai, you’ll still be the same old Franny, but in this one big thing, you’d be the... the leader again.”

“Uh,” Franny said. Had she been too obvious? Delilah was good at reading her, sure, but usually Franny had figured out what she wanted to do before Delilah could guess her plans.

Delilah crossed her arms under her breasts and glanced away. “I... may have been cheating a little,” she said. “I wanted to know what to say, and I wanted to see if we even had a chance of working out at all or if it was all just me being stupid.”

Franny understood then. “You asked Atyacus for help,” she guessed.

Delilah shrugged a shoulder languidly. “A little. I told him not to violate your privacy, just my own. He analyzed things based on what I’d seen, basically, and what I could guess about you and... yeah.”

“Huh,” Franny muttered. “Okay. I didn’t expect that. I guess I should have. So, what did your AI friend say?”

“Not too much,” Delilah said. “Just that there are ways this could work.” She gestured between Franny and herself. “And one of the ways where you’re happiest is if I just let you take control of things. We go at your pace. Unless I think we’re moving too fast, I suppose. Then we slow down, but you set the pace. If you want to try something, we do.”

Franny chuckled. It just escaped her in a burst. It was such a weird idea. She’d barely even formed her own thoughts on the matter. She didn’t have time for that. Then Delilah came around with the perfect solution. Or at least, a solution.

“He really thinks we could work out?” she asked.

Delilah nodded slowly. “He said we’d need to work on things, and communicate, but I think that’s par for the course with this kind of thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Franny said. “So,you’re okay with that? We split things down the middle. Like that one time at the camping retreat, the tent with the tape.”

“That didn’t work out so well,” Delilah said.

Franny laughed. “But it was fun.”

“It was.”

Franny looked at Delilah, and Delilah met her gaze. There was hope there, and acceptance, and a lot more. Franny stepped up, walking closer to Delilah. She’d probably done it a thousand times before, but this was different in a way she couldn’t quite describe. “So, if I decide that I want to kiss you right here and now?” Franny asked.

Delilah’s breathing hitched, just faintly. “Then that’s what we do.”

“And if I decide that we go further than that?” Franny asked.

Delilah’s face reddened again. “How much further?”

Franny didn’t want to be awful. She cared about Delilah too much for that. She might have had permission to set the pace, but there were limits. Delilah had always been a slow and careful person. She took to new things with careful analysis and a clear sort of progression.

Besides, Franny was about as inexperienced as Delilah was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to rush things herself.

“Let’s start a little slower, then,” Franny said. She raised her arms for a hug. Usually it was Delilah that initiated those.

Her friend stepped up and returned the gesture.

Warm and soft, as always. Still, Franny felt like the hug was a little different. There was a charge to it. She felt her breasts under her habit pressing into Delilah, and Delilah’s pressing into her. The warmth was more than just the comforting warmth of a hug.

Franny hesitated. Were they ready for more?

Was that pushing things too much?

“Okay,” she said before stepping back.

They stared at each other from half a pace apart.

Franny wondered if Delilah felt the lack of warmth as keenly as she did.

“That was... nice,” Franny said.

Delilah nodded. “Nothing too unusual, but... okay.” She smiled. Franny treasured it. Delilah wasn’t much of a smiler. She was always too serious, too broody by half. She’d joked that she had to make up for Delilah’s stoicism by being twice as brash before. This smile was a small, private but happy one.

Franny thought, hard and fast, even if her brain felt a little like mush from the thrill-ride of emotions. She realized that she wasn’t angry anymore though, instead her chest hummed with the wild beating of her heart and she was, genuinely, happy, though it was a weird confusing mess of happiness.

She didn’t want to end this here. She didn’t want to leave the room without having done more. Without exploring things more. But how could she move on while not making Delilah do something she wasn’t comfortable doing already? Even kissing felt a little too far.

Then she had another terrible idea. She was full of them.

“So,” Franny said as she considered how to say what she wanted to. She crossed her arms and tried to look a little more stern. “Tell me, Delilah. What have you done while thinking of me?”

Delilah rocked back a little. “You mean, in a sexual way?”

“Yes, obviously,” Franny said.

Delilah’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I... nothing much?”

“Oh, okay,” Franny said. “Then you wouldn’t mind doing what you did while thinking of me again?”

“Um, well, I suppose not,” Delilah said. She flushed again. The topic they were dancing around was so ridiculously taboo, it was a thrill just to talk about it.

Franny grinned. “Good,” she said, arms squeezing a little around her waist. “Then do it.”

Delilah inhaled sharply, just shy of a gasp. “H-here?”

Franny gestured around the room. “Why not? I mean, I guess a bed would be better?”

Delilah’s jaw worked and her face reddened from her neck up. “Franny!” she gasped.

Franny laughed, and after her shock passed, Delilah’s expression turned to what some would call a pout. A very beautiful pout. “Alright, how about we start a bit easier then?” Franny stepped back over to the teacher’s desk, turned, then leaned back onto it. “I’m curious though, how much, ah, experience do you have?”

Delilah sighed. “None.”

“None?” Franny repeated.

“Basically none,” Delilah said. “What about you?”

Franny shrugged. “I mean, I’ve got a hairbrush I’m fond of,” she said. The way Delilah’s cheeks flushed was gorgeous. She was starting to understand the wilder people who were always so flippant. There was a lot of fun in getting someone to react. “But you said earlier that you’d... you know, while thinking of me?”

Delilah closed her eyes. She only did that when she was truly embarrassed. Franny imagined that the fact that she continued meant she didn’t mind Franny knowing. “I’ve never stuck anything up... there. Ever. I was always saving myself. For the right person.”

“Oh, wow,” Franny said. “In that case...”

Delilah sighed. “The most I’ve ever done to... relieve tension was rub myself on something. I think the first time was in this room.”

“While class was on?” Franny asked. Maybe Delilah was a lot more daring than she’d imagined.

“No, after, when everyone was gone. I... you know, with the corner of a desk.”

“I really don’t know,” Franny said.

Delilah very awkwardly gestured below her stomach. “It was only once here. I was terrified of being caught, and I never told anyone, obviously. I just went up to a desk and... moved against it.”

“You humped a desk?” Franny asked.

“Yes, I humped a desk,” Delilah said flatly.

Franny grinned. “And that’s the most you’ve ever done?”

Delilah squirmed. “Well, I’ve tried it with my skirt raised.”

She wondered what to say next, before the silence stretched for too long. “Okay, then do that,” Franny said. She gestured with a wave to the rows of desks. “It’s nothing you haven’t done before.”

Delilah looked at her, then the desks, then back. “What if someone walks in?”

“What if someone walked in last time?” Franny asked.

Her friend conceded the point with a sideways nod. “I guess. I... fine. I suppose this is just a small thing. From everything I’ve heard this is really tame.”

“We’re not even touching,” Franny said. “We couldn’t go slower if we tried.”

Delilah chuckled. “I guess not. It still feels fast.” She raised a hand to stall Franny, who was about to suggest the stop. “No, it’s fine. It’s... after what I did to you today. Pulling that on you all of a sudden.”

“You don’t owe me for that,” Franny said.

“But I want to,” Delilah replied. She stepped around one of the desks so that she was facing Franny from behind it. Franny very much didn’t fail to notice that it was her own desk. The sisters sat her in front so that they could always keep an eye on her.

Carefully, Delilah stepped up to the desk, then pressed herself into the corner of it. The rounded edges pushed into her skirt, right at the crotch and Delilah shifted her hips forwards. Her face was practically steaming. Then, very deliberately, she slid back, the corner making her skirt ride up just a little as the material bunched up.

“This is what I did,” Delilah said.

“While thinking of me?” Franny asked. Her stomach roiled, and she was glad she was leaning against the desk because her legs felt a little weak.

“Yes,” Delilah said simply. “While thinking of you.”

“Was that all?” Franny asked. As far as she knew, this was about the most tame sexual act anyone could do. It was barely masturbation at all.

“I... sometimes, I’d grab my own chest,” Delilah said.

“Do that,” Franny said. “I mean, please?”

Delilah sniffed, then raised her right hand to her breast and squeezed. Delilah was always more endowed than Franny. She’d been a little jealous once. More recently, as she grew up, she always admired Delilah’s features.

She’d never expected to see Delilah groping herself that way.

“C-continue rubbing,” Franny said.

Delilah complied. Her hips moved up, then down. Up. Then down. She added a bit of a roll to her motions, just as if she was tracing a big oval with her hips while the desk dug into the fabric of her skirts.

Her hands didn’t remain idle. They squeezed and pinched at her breast, just the one hand, and never fast. Just a careful taunting of flesh through her blouse and bra.

“Franny,” Delilah whispered as her eyes closed.

Franny gulped. She felt very warm as she carefully repositioned herself against the teacher’s desk. Still, her attention never left Delilah with her slow, careful gyrations.

Delilah glanced up to Franny, a question in her eyes. Did Franny want her to continue? Franny nodded, and that simple gesture sent goosebumps down her spine. There was so much wrong with that simple action. She was ordering a saint to do...that.

She continued to watch as Delilah rubbed herself, mind whirling. Then Delilah stopped with a gasp.

Franny listened, then she heard the same thing Delilah must have. Footsteps, coming down the corridor. More than one, even.

Someone opened a door further down, into one of the other classrooms across the hall, if Franny had to guess.

They’d be caught. Or Delilah would, at least.

Franny looked at the way Delilah was frozen, then she whispered across the room. “Don’t stop.”

Delilah stared at her, then at the door. Franny could hear her heart beating over the approaching footsteps.

The desk Delilah was rubbing herself against shifted as Delilah started over. It was slower, certainly, and more tense. They both listened as footsteps grew closer, then continued right by.

Another door opened, closer this time. The classroom right next to this one.

Delilah continued to rub herself, as she’d been told to, and Franny couldn’t stop the goosebumps rising across her arms and neck, nor the queasy feeling in her stomach.

Then the door to the next classroom closed and someone walked right by theirs without ever stopping in.

Delilah let out a relieved sigh.

So did Franny. “Did... did you ever do more?” she asked.

Delilah paused, but just for a moment. She resumed the rubbing as she spoke. “I did, eventually,” she said. “The material... you don’t feel much through it.”

“Oh,” Franny said.

Delilah’s free hand, which had been holding onto the desk, slid down to her side and started to fist into her skirt. She raised it, bit by bit. Franny kept staring as more and more of Delilah’s long legs were exposed. Then Delilah backed her rear up from the edge of the desk long enough to flip the front of her skirt over it.

Franny inhaled sharply. She hadn’t seen anything. She could smell something though, maybe. It might have been her imagination.

Delilah fixed her skirt atop the table so that it wasn’t too bunched up, then her free hand gripped the edge and she paused, shifting her hips as if to realign them.

Franny imagined that without the skirt in the way, it would just be Delilah’s panties between her and the desk. Delilah bit her lower lip, then pressed herself forward again. She took in a shaky breath, then pulled back.

The motions started languid and slow, but as Franny watched, Delilah sped up. Her grip on the table turned white as it tightened.

She moved back and forth for a minute. Then two. Her eyes were half-lidded, her mouth open in a little ‘o.’ Then Delilah started to pick up the pace. “Franny,” she whispered again. She undid a button on her blouse and slipped her hand in. Franny didn’t fail to notice her bra slipping down, or the way Delilah’s nipples were erect under the thin fabric.

Franny continued to watch even as she herself warmed up. The heat traveled down, and she pressed her legs together. There was no ignoring the sticky heat between her legs. It was as if someone was gently pouring her full of warm syrup.

Her reverie was jolted hard as the desk Delilah was using squeaked. The metal-tipped leg screeched across the floor. Delilah was red-faced, even her ears glowed. Her hand pulled out of her blouse and came even with the other so that she gripped the desk on two sides.

Then, to Franny’s amazement, Delilah raised a leg up and onto the school chair.

Her perfect posture was gone. She was rubbing herself along the length of the desk, breathing so hard it verged on panting. Her eyes were closed and every hard thrust filled the room with a tiny squeak as the desk was slammed forwards.

“Franny, Franny, Franny,” Delilah whimpered with every hump.

Franny’s entire being froze. She was no more than a drunk passenger who’d fallen onto the tracks, unable to do anything but stare as the train came rushing to her. She caught glimpses of Deliliah’s breasts bouncing through the opening in her blouse, of her long leg, exposed by the way Delilah had raised her skirts, of Delilah’s face, where in her ecstasy and with the repetition of Franny’s own name, her dearest friend, always stuck up and proper, failed to notice a thin line of drool next to her mouth.

Her friend squeaked, her back went rigid, and she stopped her hard thrusts. Not entirely, she was still swaying back and forth on the edge of the desk, but the energy was gone.

Delilah panted and her eyes fluttered open.

They stared at each other, Delilah with mounting mortification, Franny... she wasn’t sure what emotion was on her face, but her mouth was open and her cheeks felt warmer than they’d ever felt before.

Delilah broke eye contact first. She wiped a hand over her face, brought her leg down quickly, then adjusted her skirt with a quick shimmy of her hips.

Her friend paused, and for a moment her face reddened before she bent down, both hands going under her skirt for a moment and shifting about. Did she have to readjust her panties? Franny’s ears couldn’t hear much over the drumming of her heart.

Franny took in her friend, who was trying to make herself presentable. She pulled her bra back on straight, then buttoned her shirt up and tucked it back into her skirt’s waistband. With a quick comb through her hair, it was almost impossible to notice that she’d been doing anything. There was only that lingering scent and...

They both looked at the desk. The corner, nearly the entire edge, was wet.

“That was--” Franny started.

“I’m sorry--” Delilah said at the same time.

They stopped. Franny gestured for Delilah to go first, and her friend took a moment to control her breathing. “I’m... sorry you saw that. I... I lost myself, and I must have looked like some sort of freak.”

“No,” Franny said. She took a long step towards Delilah, then stopped. There was definitely a lot of wetness clinging between her legs. That was... probably not a surprise.

If Franny ever doubted whether or not she found Delilah attractive, then, well, no, she could put that doubt to rest.

“I mean. I’m happy you showed me that,” Franny said.

Delilah’s blush returned, and she failed to meet Franny’s eyes. “Usually it takes a lot longer,” she muttered.

Franny swallowed. Was it being seen that made it better, or Franny’s presence? The fact that it was a punishment of sorts? Franny... honestly couldn’t wait to find out.

“I think,” Franny said. “That we’ve, ah, done nearly enough for one day. Enough pushing, I mean.”

“Nearly enough?” Delilah asked. She was as sharp as usual.

Franny nodded and came closer. She breathed through her nose and felt a little lightheaded. She recognized the smell. From Delilah’s own room, no less. Did that mean... she pushed those thoughts aside. “Nearly. I think, maybe next time we can do the reverse. Or maybe I can... provide something better than a desk?”

Delilah nodded slowly. “But... I know I said you would be in the lead but... can we make the first time we go... in special?” she asked.

“Okay,” Franny agreed. If it was special to Delilah, then it was special. Though, perhaps she was looking forward to that too.

Then, after a moment’s pause to muster up her bravery, Franny stepped right up to Delilah and took her friend’s face in both of her hands. Delilah looked at her in shock, but there was trust there, trust and want and maybe some lingering lust.

“I guess that makes us girlfriends, then?” Franny asked. The word, or maybe the position made her lightheaded.

“I guess so,” Delilah said.

Then she said nothing at all, because Franny captured Delilah’s mouth with hers.

***