Date: Sat, 22 Jan 2011 12:59:23 -0600
From: eve summerall <eve.summerall@gmail.com>
Subject: L'esprit de l'escalier

This is my first submission here... I hope you like it! Feel free to send
feedback.

This story contains sexually explicit scenes between two females. If it is
illegal for you to view this material, or it offends you, please leave this
page.

---------------------------------

	I went to St. Antony's school for the Deaf and Mute. Not because I
was either of the two, but because it was a dormitory school in the middle
of nowhere, and my father happened to work there. That was kind of how my
life went, you see; I was the kind who was found stepping in dog poop,
tripping over nothing, and being put in the worst school possible for a
person like me.

	You see, I'm a talkative person. I will yap all day long if allowed
to. And this place? Even the hallways are quiet, and the people quieter
still. Sure, I could chat in sign language, I am fluent... but the students
don't quite like me. I can understand why. "Why the hell is this stupid
normal girl in our school? She doesn't fit in whatsoever. She should just
leave." That's how it'd been, all my school life; and seeing as I was now a
legal adult (18, woo!) and a senior, that had been a long time.

	That said, like any school, there were other kids that didn't fit
in, either. I was talking to one at the moment, so it happens.

	"Why won't you talk?"

	It was a simple enough question, but Harriet apparently wanted
nothing to do with me. She sped up, but I hurried along beside her. Other
students glared as we passed by.

	"I know you can hear me." I told her. "And I know it isn't
physical."

	She glared at me as we turned the corner. I took this as a license
I was right. "I know, because you won't even try to learn sign language.
You're in the still beginners class after a year. My dad says you could
learn, if you wanted to," I said, smirking, "But you don't, do you?"

	She frowned sharply, giving me a nod. It wasn't one of those
hesitant "yes, you've found out all my secrets" nod, however. It was
plainly a curt, "right so far, captain obvious" nod. One gets really good
at body language in this type of environment. I sighed and followed her
into our dorm.

	Harriet was a new student here, the same age as me. She had shown
up about a year ago, in the middle of the semester. Her complete lack of
sign language skills left her as a total outcast, seeing as she couldn't
communicate with anyone. Quite like me, she was considered a novelty –
because she was a genius, probably. Unlike me, however, she wasn't
resented. She was a tall, almost plain looking girl; her hair was that
stereotypically brown and her face was covered in freckles. Still, there
was something gorgeous about her – her elegant facial structure, maybe,
or the curve of her breasts. She wasn't a DD or anything, but she
definitely had something good there.

	Not to be creepy, or anything. I have some pretty nice knockers
too, and a pretty face to go along with it. As a member of the Busty Blond
organization, in any other school men would be crawling all over me. But it
wasn't destined to be. I wasted my sexual life away in dorms with other
girls, bothering them to hide my own sexual frustration. Or something like
that. I've just been told I'm annoying a lot, and I think that might just
be the reason.

	"It's got to be emotional." I theorized, sitting on the
bed. Harriet walked over to the desk in the corner of the room and began
unpacking her homework and books. "You're taking a vow of silence... that,
or something left you so horrorstruck you won't even speak anymore."

	She paused at her task for a brief moment before continuing. I
smirked. "GOTCHA! I saw that. It's a trauma related thing, right?" I liked
psychology, so this was my thing. Bouncing on my butt, I tried to remember
the name of it. I knew there was one, but it slipped through my grasp.

	She nodded once, and sat in her chair as calm as ever. She was
facing away from me, which was displeasing, so I walked over to her and sat
on her desk ever-so-obnoxiously. "So what happened?" I asked. "Were you
raped?"

	She shook her head.

	"Murdered?"

	She gave me a look that clearly said "What the fuck." I giggled.

	"Heartbroken?" I whispered, leaning in closer. A faint blush came
to her cheeks – amusing. She turned away and nodded shortly.

	"By a boy, no doubt." I said, pulling back. Blushing was a weird
reaction, in retrospect. I should have seen the signs, but beyond my crazy
demeanor I was honestly a sheltered little thing. She shook her head.

	"Hmm. Your family, then. Father?"

	No.

	"Mother?"

	No.

	"Brother, sister?"

	No, no.

	"Oh come on, you've got to tell me!" I whined, becoming
frustrated. I leaned in close again to whisper in her ear. "If you don't
tell me, I'll have to kiss it out of you..."

	She paused, as if deliberating – hopefully, deliberating telling
me. She leaned back from me with a smile on her face and showed me a very
clear signal; not sign language, but general hand singal.

	One finger out, then curl. Come over here and bring it, it said. I
swallowed. I hadn't expected to have to follow up on my threat. Usually,
the idea of Sapphic conduct made girls cringe in fear and spill, generally
in frantic sign language... this was a new one.

	I really wasn't up for this. If I do it, it's just another kiss
gone, I thought. But if I don't, I'm a coward.  Sure, I had been kissed
before – a few times, even, at summer camp, by immature boys who had no
idea what they were doing. It was an uncomfortable experience, and not one
I was terribly fond of repeating. But, just for pride's sake...

	I leaned in and tried to plant a gentle kiss on her cheeks, only to
be grabbed by the back of the head and pushed against her lips. Her tongue
easily slipped into my mouth and began wrestling against mine, the feeling
warm and soft. I was startled, but my body responded well without me,
returning the favor and wrapping my arms around her. It felt much better
than kissing a boy. Her kiss was somewhat harsh, yes, but she tasted like
peaches, not grease, and her tongue was gentle and engaging. I could feel
my body begin to heat.

	This was definitely not how I planned it.

	She let go of me and broke away, her lips shining with a mix of our
saliva. I suddenly realized I had ended up on her lap, blushing
furiously. Harriet was, judging from expressions, incredibly pleased with
herself.

	"I don't... um... usually do that, so, um..." I babbled. She
smirked – that jerk, I was the one who smirked around here – and
pointed to the bed.

	"What about the bed?"

	She brushed her hand against my breasts gently.

	"R-right, the bed."

	With little imput from me, she walked me over to the bed and pushed
me down on it, trapping me in another kiss, this time more desperate and
hot than the last. Her large hands crept under my shirt to my breasts,
caressing them and rubbing at my nipples. I, not having full control at the
moment, whimpered into her mouth like a virgin. I could feel my panties
cling to me under my skirt with juices, a sign I was, for all intents and
purposes, totally screwed.

	With a final squeeze of my breast, she moved to her obvious real
target; she pulled down my skirt and panties in one fell swoop. My heart
thudded. Experience I had plenty, but not past second base. Uncaring and
totally in charge at the moment, she began rubbing her fingers along my
slit. I moaned, of all things, and I felt my knees buckle. She was totally
stealing my thunder here, but I was totally helpless to protest.

	Her fingers began rubbing gently at my clit, which only lead to
more characteristic moaning. At that point, I was beginning to lose all
sense of time and space, only concentrating on how fucking good she was
with her hands, running those long gentle fingers over me mercilessly. My
breath came in gasps, and my vision was blurry – it took me a second to
realize she removed my glasses.

	"Hey," I murmured. She used this distraction to move those pianists
fingers away from my clit and penetrated me, elicting a short squeak. I had
always expected such things to hurt – not that I ever imagined a girl
doing it – but apparently I was sufficiently wet, because she slipped in
easily. Inside, she rolled them around, pushing against the walls of my
vagina roughly. I began losing even the ability for snark, making all sorts
of noises I didn't even know I could make. Taking amusement and pleasure in
my reactions, she pushed them farther inside and began rubbing against one
certain spot. I presumed this spot was my G-spot, because it made me clamp
down harder on her fingers. I could feel my orgasm steadily inside of me, a
fact that wasn't lost on her.

	"Cum for me," she whispered, in the tiniest voice in my ear. That
was enough for me; my body unhesitatingly complied. I started to scream,
but she blocked it off with another heavy kiss until the noise presided,
leaving me tired and utterly spent on the bed. Harriet calmly pulled my
skirt and panties up, and sat back down at the desk, licking her fingers.

	Awkward.

	I sat up, furiously trying to straighten my hair and look
presentable. "Um. How about I, um, get us some soda, or something?"

	She nodded, and I rushed off.

	The hallway air felt cold against my legs and crotch as I walked to
the machine. I didn't know what soda she'd like, but I picked one anyway,
wondering what the hell had just happened. I kissed her, I think, and she
had shoved me down... and then we –

	I dropped the drinks.

	"A GIRL BROKE HER HEART!" I announced loudly, feeling quite
accomplished.

	The next revelation came a second later. "WAIT, SHE JUST –"

	I never claimed to be a smart one.