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A Bird In The Bloody Hand Is Worth Two In The Bedroom

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“Nance. Nancy. Where are you going?” Barb doesn’t know what happened while she was in the bathroom, wrapping her bloody thumb in a cloth, but she can guess. Nancy’s hair is wet and she has a large white and beige towel wrapped around her dripping body. Her clothes, what Barb can see of them, look soaked through.

“Nowhere. Just upstairs. To change. I fell in the pool.” Each few words is its own sentence, full of admissions of guilt. Barb can tell Nancy knows what she’s about to do is wrong; after a few seconds of flat faced staring, Nancy’s smile drops off her face.

“Why don’t you go ahead and go home? I’ll just, uh, get a ride or something.”

“Nancy,” Barb starts. Tries to start. Nothing else comes out. There are just no words to explain what a mistake this is, Nancy going upstairs to undress in Steve’s room. Arrogant prick, there’s no way he’d see it for the gift it is.

“Barb,” Nancy sing sings back at her, eyebrows raised, “I’m fine.” She raises a hand curled in towel over her face and smiles a cute little smile.

“This isn’t you,” Barb pleads.

“I’m fine,” Nancy says, this time firm. Barb’s losing her, she can tell. And if she loses her feeling of guilt, Barb loses her to Steve. “Just go ahead and go home, okay?”

Nancy turns to start ascending the carpeted stairs to join Steve, and Barb accelerates so far past rationality she’s breaking the sound barrier. She darts up the first few steps and yanks on the towel Nancy has wrapped tight around her. It’s a solid gesture, as fair as restraint goes.

“What, Barb,” Nancy says. She’s annoyed, and Barb doesn’t care. All she cares about is how big tiny Nancy momentarily looks, above her in the staircase, and how it makes her think that one day Nancy could hold her. Barb walks up the next few stairs, holding Nancy in place. That is, until they’re on the same step and Nancy is against the wall to make room for Barb. Feet on the same level they’re back to what Barb is used to, being six inches taller than her best friend. That means Barb has to bend down to kiss her.

The kiss is the best thing Barb’s experienced in her life. Nancy’s lips are hot, despite having been messing around in the water in November. Nancy’s not pushing her away, which means all the nights Barb’s stayed awake over analysing possibly lingering looks haven’t been for nothing. Nancy has meant something by all the biting her lips and changing clothes in front of her. She tastes like beer, which Barb can’t really fault her for. After all, Barb had been willing to shotgun one, before shaky hands got the best of her.

It’s stupid goddamn Steve who breaks them up when he murmurs ‘holy fucking shit.’ He must have been waiting in his room for Nancy to show up, and finally declared the wait long enough that maybe she got lost in this ostentatious semi-mansion. Barb could fucking kill him.

“Steve, it’s not-”

Barb considers herself lucky when Steve cuts off what Nancy’s about to declare. No doubt hearing it, whatever it is, would be painful. “I didn’t know I knew any lesbians. Wow. I wouldn’t have invited you if I’d known you were. Uh, dating. It’s still dating if people the same sex do it?”

“Ugh,” Barb can’t quite manage to hold in her disdain. “Yes, yeah it is.”

“Huh. Cool. You two want my bedroom? For whatever?”

Whatever Nancy might say, Barb speaks over it. “We’re good here, for now.”

“Uh, okay. If you change your mind you know where I’ll be. I’d go, or stay to watch, your choice.”

Barb has no interest in Steve watching. She waits until he retreats to shrug off her coat and let it tumble and slink down the stairs behind her. It’s the perfect moment for Nancy to back out, walk away. It’d be crushing, but Barb would let her go. Instead, in the epitome of mixed messages when compared against her denying Barb in front of Steve three seconds ago, Nancy lets go of her towel and grips Barb’s hands instead.

“If you stand on the stair below me, we’ll be the the same height for kissing.”

Fuck, it’s so hot that that’s true. Sometimes Barb daydreams about being half giant before Nancy, only needing one thigh to separate her legs wider than a saddle, only two fingers to fuck her open wider than any stupid boy’s cock could. Barb wants to surround Nancy, rip her to shreds.

Barb’s thighs get wet as the thin fabric of her pants soaks up the pool water leaking out of Nancy’s jeans. “Take these off,” Barb demands, cajoles, asks. She’s too heady with lust to care about how she’s coming off, to modulate herself. All that matters is that Nancy is into the persona.

Nancy leans back to get her zipper down, then pulls them down over her ass, hands curving down her cheeks for a moment. God would Barb pay money to see that from another angle. Denim pooled at her feet, Nancy takes a second to kick them off, down to a lower stair. There it sits with Barb’s coat. If things go right, panties and bras will be joining them. She’ll fuck Nancy on the staircase. She wants nothing that Steve has offered her, including his bed.

Barb begins a new kiss with Nancy, but this time her uninjured hand goes down. She starts rubbing the outside of Nancy’s panties, fingers sliding further and further back, but always a thin layer of cloth separating her from real pleasure. The fabric starts to get wet and the pride of it makes Barb tingle. Nancy gets so into the touching that she braces against the wall with one outstretched hand and one leg, and raises the other to curl around Barb’s hip. It’s not the best possible access, that would indeed be stretched out on a bed, but for the current location Barb couldn’t ask for more.

Leg crooked out it’s easier for Barb to push her panties to the side and finally touch the damp curls guarding Nancy’s pussy. Nancy’s got a bush good enough for Hustler. Not that Barb’s spent time looking at cousin Arnold’s porn during birthday dinners. Much.

“Can I fuck you, Nance? Please, can I?”

“Barb!”

These mixed messages are going to drive Barb into an early grave. “Oh come on, Nancy. You can stop with the scandalized straight girl thing. We got this far.”

“This- this doesn’t make me a lesbian. I don’t know what I am.”

“Okay, fine. Mislabelling noted.” Sometimes the quickest way around a bullheaded Wheeler is quick agreement and moving on. “But tell me this. Whatever else you are, are you a girl that wants to come? Orgasm? Because I can provide, and I think a hell of a lot better than your other option tonight.” Seriously, Steve Harrington. What the fuck.

Nancy tries to rake her fingers through her hair, but it’s too tangled from the plunge. She makes due with tucking it behind her ears. “How do you want me?”

“Come down a step.”

Nancy does. Barb takes intense pleasure in leaning down to kiss her yet again. Then she hooks her thumbs in the tiny pair of panties Nancy’s wearing and pulls until they’re low enough to drop of their own accord. It’s a strain to make her towel wrapped left thumb do anything, but this is Barb’s version of a mother lifting a van off her own child. it will be done, because it has to be done. Half naked and totally ready, Nancy happily accepts hands on her sides. Barb hoists her up, using the wall as a second pair of hands to balance Nancy and keep both her feet off the ground. It’s so intimate, posing Nancy on and around her like this. She’s so fucking tiny.

For all her size, she’s strong though. Or at least her cunt is. The grip she’s got on Barb’s fingers is crazy. Wet and clenching, like a reverse sponge.

Seeing Nancy fall to pieces around her fingers is glory in action. Barb could almost cry. It makes her feel enormous. Powerful.

As Nancy dismounts, she declares, “I want to try something.”

“Okay? What?”

“I wanna put my mouth there. On you.” There’s that coquettish smile again, the one that drives Barb mad.

Holy shit. Sweet fucking shit. “Uh, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Extremely uproariously okay. But it’ll be easier if we lay down.” Looks like she will be accepting something from Harrington after all. Oh well. It’s for a good cause.