Rebound

I am not thinking of anything. I am not thinking of midterms or my ex or the passive-aggressive post-it my roommate left on the minifridge. The music is loud enough to shake my ribs, loud enough to empty my mind. I’m dancing in a tight circle with my friends, their partners moving slowly against them in the limited open space. I am the only one of my friends here alone. It’s probably too early in spring to be half naked outside; the midnight air is cool against my drunk-flushed cheeks.

It’s a queer party, the kind you can really only find at a small women’s college. A scene my closeted high school self could only dream of. Saturday night surrounded by women rolling their pelvises against one another while listening to Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl” is my version of Shangri-La. 

The only problem with going to a small college like this is that you know almost everyone. I recognize the DJ from my English 203 class. Nearly every face here is recognizable, even washed in blue and purple under the flashing lights. 

But I’m tipsy enough that I don’t care. The bassline makes me forget about my ex-girlfriend’s face, the sensory overload completely wipes out all thoughts of her. It’s been less than a month since the breakup. 

Even though I’m fragile, I wouldn’t mind a hookup. I’ve never really been into casual sex, but then again I’ve also never been broken up with. I’d always been the one to do the dumping. Rejection stings. I miss warm hands on me and soft kisses along my jaw. The pleasant thrill of being wanted by another person. It would be nice if I could find someone here to make out with. The song turns slow and sexy, the beat is thumping in my chest. 

A less familiar face appears in the crowd with a flash of lengthy black hair. I recognize her profile. The gentle curve of her nose, full lips stretched thin by a smile.

She was at the party I was at the night before. I had caught a brief snippet of her conversation as she passed me a joint, the smoke curling enticingly around her well-trimmed fingernails. My eyelids drooped sleepily as I inhaled, eavesdropping casually.  

“I’m tired of hooking up with guys. I’m just looking for a nice girl to fuck me,” she had laughed, voice light as air. “Is that too much to ask?”  

I hear the conversation replaying in my mind as I watch her sway her hips, the dark cherry of her lips parted. Her eyes are closed, like she doesn’t need to look to know that others are staring. Lingering eyes mean nothing, as she throws her head back, revealing the long line of her jaw. Her tiny denim shorts inch up her thighs as she moves. She’s such a good dancer, so sure of herself—I wonder if she is a dance major. I wonder what she would look like dancing with all her clothes off. 

Our eyes meet when she catches me staring. Instead of moving my gaze away hurriedly like I might if I were sober, I hold it. A flush climbs up her cheeks but she smiles, slow. Fuck-me eyes. 

Somehow, within minutes, our respective circles have moved closer together. I find myself with her back touching mine, her ass pressing into the back of my thighs. In a moment of bravery I turn to rest my hands above her hips, my breasts grazing against her back. I like that she is shorter than me. 

Her ass grinds slowly into my pelvis. Her hair brushes against my chin, as she leans into me. This time I’m the one who is surprised when she whirls to face me, and I feel her hand tugging at the back of my neck, pulling my face down towards her own. 

Our lips press together hard. No nerves here; the kiss is dirty and rough, her tongue tracing my lips and delving into my mouth. Heat crawls up my spine and my crotch throbs. The music fades into background noise and now my head is truly empty—there’s nothing left but the slide of her tongue against mine, her fingers gripping my waist, teeth nipping at my bottom lip. 

When we pull apart we are both panting. I can hear my friends whispering nearby but I don’t care. I lean down towards her ear to whisper into it. 

“Do you want to leave with me?”

Her gorgeous red mouth spreads into a hungry smile. “I’d like that,” she says, although I barely catch her husky voice over the music. She catches my hand and pulls me away from the party. 

The walk to my dorm is quiet and buzzing with anticipation. She tells me her name is Ruby. The fact that I didn’t know her name, that she was a stranger to me until that filthy kiss on the crowded dance floor sends a heavy thrill right to my pelvis. 

I’ve never done anything like this. I’m surprised by how much I like it. The anonymity of it should be uncomfortable given my history of serial monogamy; instead it’s new and exciting.

I tell her my name and her hand squeezes mine, as if she is feeling the same excitement in her veins.  

When we arrive at my dorm, I shut the door. Immediately, I push her up against it, sparing not even a second to get my hands on her. Her breath catches when I squeeze her ass, her back arching against the wood paneling. 

I like to be on top, like to be in charge—it’s one of the reasons me and my ex-girlfriend didn’t work out. But that is far from my mind now as I kiss down Ruby’s neck, between her collarbones, down her chest. Goosebumps follow my lips eagerly tracing her skin. The soft gasps tell me that she is enjoying this as much as I am. 

“You’re sober enough for this, right?” Ruby moans, “Fuck, keep doing that.” 

I smile as my hand slides down her stomach to tug at the waistband of those tiny shorts she has on. “Trust me, I am,” I say, truthfully. 

She whimpers and presses her head back against the door when my fingers find her clit. I circle around it, taking my time. I tug her shorts off and onto the floor and get to my knees so I can get my mouth between her legs. 

Sucking on her outer lips, I begin to fuck her slowly with my fingers. Now I can get my tongue on her clit, simultaneously moving my two fingers inside her while licking achingly slow at her cunt. She moans, her knees beginning to shake. 

I feel her hand grasping at my shoulder. “Bed. Now,” Ruby says. I smirk at the desperation in her voice knowing I made her sound like that. 

The mattress creaks as she lays on it, stripping off her shirt and lacy black bra. Now I am the only one fully clothed. Her naked body, miles of smooth skin splayed out for me to grab, makes my cunt throb. I have the urge to leave red marks, smack my hand across her ass. 

I suck at her nipples and her breath becomes ragged. I bring her off the first time with ease; she comes into my mouth as I keep steady pressure on her clit, her knees clamped around my head. I never thought I could be so in touch with a stranger’s body, but her loud cry as she comes makes me wonder if I’ve ever been this sexually compatible with anyone in my life.  

The second time, I am slower. I tease her with my tongue and my fingers, bringing her back to the edge again with achingly light touches. Pressing my lips to her inner thighs and tracing up, then back down. Narrowly missing that oversensitive sweet spot until she is begging for it. Her fingernails dig into the sheets, her back lifting from the polyester comforter. 

When she comes again, it’s not as dramatic. Her legs shake and she breathes out like she was holding it, every muscle going languid. The come-down is slow as her lungs struggle to catch up with her, toes uncurling. 

I roll over to the side. I crawl up the sex-stained sheets to lay beside her. 

Ruby laughs with her arm thrown across her face. “Holy shit. Wow,” she says, “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For making my first time with a girl fucking incredible,” she says. Her eyes meet mine. It’s as if she’s challenging me to say something. That conversation from the night before flashes through my head and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense. 

“Of course,” I fumble, surprised, “You were amazing. Really.” 

Just as I begin to think I’ve said something wrong, she tugs me in for another one of those kisses, just as filthy as it was on the dance floor. When she pulls away she is smiling. 

“I think it’s your turn now,” she says, tugging at the top button of my jeans, as her hand snakes down below the waistband of my underwear.

Photo by Denx Arman