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The One Who Knows

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 “We’re too similar, you know,” she says, that enigmatic smile of hers twitching her lips up.  “It can’t work.” 

Naomi shrugs.  She doesn’t disagree.  That’s not why she’s there. 

“Doesn’t stop you from wanting me, does it?”

Naomi lets out a bark of laughter.  “Somebody’s a bit up herself.” 

It’s Effy who shrugs then.  She puts out the fag she’s been smoking, watching her fingers twirl it into the ashtray on the windowsill for a few seconds before she pushes off and makes her way over to the chair that Naomi’s sitting on.  Without warning she straddles her, pushing down into her lap.  “I want you.  To try.”

Effy leans in so close that Naomi can feel her breath hot on her face.  Naomi’s heart is suddenly pounding incredibly hard in her chest, and Effy must feel it because she grins.  Effy runs her finger across Naomi’s bottom lip. 

“To taste,” she whispers in Naomi’s ear. 

Naomi reacts.  How can she not?  She knows that it’s exactly what Effy wants her to do. 

Their lips slam together, and it’s so different, so much more than she was expecting.  Effy’s tongue darts out and dances across her lips, and she shudders. 

Effy leans back with a self-satisfied smile on her face.  “Sweet,” she murmurs, tilting her head to the side and staring down at Naomi, who feels Effy’s piercing blue eyes boring into her like a laser beam. 

Naomi does her best to act nonchalant, to pretend that her cunt’s not clenching and Effy hasn’t just rocked her to her core.  She licks her lips, tasting cigarette and vodka and immediately associating Effy to it.  “Bitter,” she replies. 

Effy’s eyes gleam, and Naomi knows that she’s seen straight through her act.  “I’ve always thought I was.  Shame all those boys tried to lie.” 

Naomi laughs then, because, really, there’s no other response to her sometimes. 

When Effy smiles, she’s sure that it was appropriate to laugh, that Effy was telling a joke, or, at least, a partial one. 

Naomi watches Effy manoeuvre off her lap, watches her sway casually back to the windowsill, watches in the fading light as Effy sparks up another fag, the glow from the lighter illuminating her face in a way that’s both eerie and attractive. 

“So can you get us the drugs or not?” Naomi asks when she thinks enough time has passed that her voice will be stable. 

Effy quirks an amused eyebrow.  “Did you ever doubt me?”

And just like that, the moment’s passed.  The tension, the underlying electricity in the air, it’s gone.  Vanished. 

Naomi smirks and rolls her eyes.  Effy lets out a small laugh.  Naomi crosses the room confidently, plucks the cigarette from Effy’s hand and takes a long drag before returning it.  “Right,” she mutters in that choked way that happens when she holds in the smoke for a second.  “See you, then.”  She exhales to the side. 

“See you,” Effy replies with a coy smile and a wink. 


Naomi watches Effy watch other people.  It’s one of the ways that they’re alike.  Too alike, according to Effy. 

Everyone thinks Effy’s so mysterious, but Naomi’s been watching, and she disagrees.  She’s hard to read, but it’s not impossible.  Not if you watch.  Not if you listen instead of just talking.  It’s a skill they both share, but nobody else really seems to (except Emily who watches too much but only her). 

Naomi’s sure that’s why Effy’s friends with Pandora.  She never has to talk that way.  She never has to give any of herself.  Instead, she gets a built in shield of conversation and energy. 

Effy looks up, catches her eye, and smiles knowingly. 

Naomi rolls her eyes, embarrassed at being caught, but unwilling to back down.  There’s no reason she shouldn’t look, really. 

Effy stands, makes whatever excuses necessary to extract herself from conversation with Pandora, and she saunters over.  “Opposites attract,” she comments, hopping up on the table in front of Naomi. 

“And we’re too alike,” Naomi surmises. 

“Exactly,” Effy replies with a grin that tells Naomi that she’s both amused and pleased. 

“Guess we don’t attract, then.” 

Effy’s grin turns smug.  “Is that what you think?”  She swivels around on the desk so that her legs are dangling on either side of Naomi’s body.  She’s wearing one of those stupid long shirts that she seems to think are dresses, so there’s absolutely nothing to keep Naomi from looking right, there at the lacy black knickers.  Anybody who looked there way would be able to see, but it’s also just the right height for Naomi’s eye line from where she’s slouched in her chair. 

When Naomi finally brings her gaze up to meet Effy’s, her mouth’s gone dry, and her heart’s beating out an irregular rhythm.  Effy’s merely wearing that same smug grin, and she’s got one eyebrow raised. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“Fuck you,” Naomi growls, her cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment. 

Effy brings her legs together, resting her feet on Naomi’s knees.  She shrugs.  “Sure, if you’d like.  Later.”  She swings her legs to the side, then, and hops off the table.  She struts away, her hips swinging gracefully from side to side.  Naomi can’t not look, even though she’s sure Effy knows she’s watching and that was the whole purpose of the exercise anyway. 


It’s not until she’s at home, later, that Effy’s words sink in. 

She swallows hard, but it does no good because it feels like somebody’s filled her mouth with cotton and dried it out completely. 

She’s just been offered sex by the girl that everyone wants (and a few too many people actually get, although none of them really get her). 

She’s not sure if she should be offended because Effy thinks she’s that cheap and that easy as to just fuck someone, or if she should be flattered because it’s Effy fucking Stonem for fuck’s sake (and Naomi’s fairly certain she’d be the first girl, although she wouldn’t swear to that fact). 

She pulls out her mobile and stares at the small, brightly lit square illuminating the time and the date, a generic, came with the phone picture as the backdrop.  Her finger hovers over the button that would bring up her contacts.  When the light goes dark she puts the phone down. 


It was a joke.  She didn’t mean it.  She couldn’t have. 

Sarcasm is a girl’s best friend.  It’s something they both believe.  One more reason that they’re far too similar. 

She was simply being sarcastic.  Or her version of funny.  Or both. 


Or neither.


She doesn’t get up when the doorbell rings.  It’s rarely for her.  There are usually too many other people in her house for anyone to be showing up for her (unfortunately still true even though it’s the weekend now).  It’s statistics, really. 

That’s why she’s surprised when there’s a small knock on her door a few minutes later.  She’s reluctant to invite whoever’s at the door in.  It could be completely unrelated to the doorbell ringing.  It could be her mum, or one of the random loony’s her mum’s taken in this week wanting to ask her something or simply infringe on her privacy. 

It’s not, it turns out, when the door opens a moment later, without an invitation. 

“Good book?” Effy asks by way of a greeting, nodding towards the shit their English teacher currently has them reading clutched in Naomi’s right hand. 

“Not particularly,” Naomi replies, even though she knows Effy must be reading it too, therefore probably knows this for herself. 

Effy flicks the door shut behind her and saunters calmly, confidently across the room before situating herself on Naomi’s bed as if she owns the place.  Naomi moves over to accommodate her, though she stays in the position she’s in, stomach down on the bed, face at the foot of the bed, feet kicking idly by her pillow. 

Effy doesn’t say anything, just looks at her expectantly. 

“Did you need something?” Naomi prompts when she finally begins to squirm beneath Effy’s unwavering gaze, turning her head to look back at her. 

“Didn’t you?” Effy asks, sounding almost surprised, but Naomi knows better. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” she shoots back with a sigh, closing her book and tossing the paperback carelessly to the floor where it lands with a satisfying smack

Effy produces a thin silver case that Naomi knows from experience holds already rolled spliffs.  She picks one out and lights it up, inhaling deeply before exhaling the smoke towards the ceiling, exposing her long, beautiful (kissable) neck. 

Naomi tries not to stare and fails. 

She knows Effy catches her when that smirk that’s so quintessentially Effy meets her gaze. 

Naomi rolls her eyes and repositions herself, moving so that she’s now sitting side by side with Effy, propped up with her back against the back of her bed. 

Effy wordlessly passes her the spliff and Naomi welcomes the offer, breathes in the smoke deeply, holds the breath, keeping it inside, feeling it burn in her chest for a moment, making sure it has plenty of time to absorb as much as possible before she slowly exhales. 

“Have you done it before?” she finally asks, not naive enough to think that she doesn’t know exactly what Effy’s there for. 

Effy shrugs.  “Would it bother you if I had?”

Naomi shakes her head.  “What’s it to me?” 

The corners of Effy’s eyes crinkle in amusement.  She takes the spliff back from Naomi and takes a drag, then, in one swift movement, without dropping the spliff or exhaling her breath, she manoeuvres around so that she’s now straddling Naomi’s waist.  With her free hand she gently grabs Naomi’s chin and tilts it up. 

Naomi’s mouth parts automatically and Effy exhales into it.  Naomi sucks in the warm air laced with THC, tasting Effy in the breath. 

“You’re really quite beautiful, do you know that?” Effy asks, studying her closely. 

Naomi blushes, but manages to roll her eyes anyway. 

Effy leans down and presses her lips to Naomi’s.  There’s nothing especially special about the kiss, but it serves to send a tingle down Naomi’s spine nonetheless. 

Apparently it does something for Effy too, because when she pulls back, she keeps her eyes closed for a second, and tilts her head back just a little, as if absorbing the moment that’s just passed. 

She stubs out the spliff a moment later, leaving it, half smoked, on Naomi’s bedside table, before turning her crystalline blue eyes brightly back to Naomi.  “Shall we?”

Naomi scoffs.  “You’re kidding, right?”  She’s sure as hell not that fucking easy. 

Effy simply shrugs.  She pulls her dress off (another of those bloody stupid shirt dresses that’s far too short and definitely inappropriate given the drop in temperature outside of late), and suddenly she’s sitting atop Naomi in just her knickers, her bare breasts hanging out, on display right before Naomi’s face. 

Naomi swallows hard and suddenly she can’t quite catch her breath.  Her own knickers flood and she thinks, Fuck.  Apparently I am that easy. 

“Don’t you want to try me?  To taste me?” Effy inquires, the fingers of her right hand trailing down her thin, smooth, porcelain stomach and slipping under the thin fabric of white knickers that seem all too virginal for the person wearing them. 

Naomi shivers in anticipation as she sees Effy’s fingers move below the fabric, and she knows exactly what they’re touching as they dip down.  She can feel them move against her own stomach for a second, and when Effy produces them once more, they’re glistening. 

“Fuck,” Naomi breathes, want welling up inside of her as she watches Effy place her wet fingers at her lips and suck. 

Effy smiles, almost shyly, but not quite. 

She leans in and kisses Naomi again, and, this time, Naomi’s fully aware that she can taste Effy on her lips.  It’s sweet and salty and completely intoxicating.  She instantly wants more. 

Her hips buck up unconsciously, but Effy breaks away, and when she looks back, there’s something burning in her eyes that Naomi can’t quite identify. 

Effy takes Naomi’s right hand, which until now has been clenching at her blanket, keeping her anchored.  She turns it over slowly in her own hands, examining it for a moment, taking the time to trace a few of the lines across her palm.  Effy pulls Naomi’s hand forward, guiding it down the same path that her own hand took minutes before, stretching the fabric of her knickers forward as Naomi’s hand delves deeper at the awkward angle. 

Naomi’s breath hitches, and her chest tightens as her fingers encounter wetness.  Her first thought is that there’s so much of it.  Her second thought is that Effy’s wet for her.  (Her third, more accurate than her second, she’s sure, is that Effy’s wet for the wrongness of it all.) 

She lets her fingers slide along the slippery folds as Effy tilts her hips up, giving Naomi better access, before she grinds down hard, letting out a low, guttural moan that sends a shiver down Naomi’s spine and ensures that her knickers are well and truly ruined (not to mention fucking uncomfortable). 

Effy pulls Naomi’s hand back out of her knickers revealing the way they gleam wet.  “Well?  Don’t you want to taste?” 

Naomi’s eyes flash from Effy’s eyes to her fingers and back.  She licks her lips unconsciously, her tongue eager for what awaits her as she finally closes her eyes and brings her fingers to her mouth.  The taste is even stronger, and, if possible, even better because of it.  She feels rather than hears Effy let out a low hum, and Naomi knows that the sight of her tasting her is doing something for Effy as well. 

When Naomi opens her eyes, her mind feels fuzzy, and her body feels overly charged. 

Effy’s looking back at her with eyes that look far too clear, but they’ve gone dark, darker than Naomi’s ever seen them.  Effy tilts her head to the side and quirks up a curious eyebrow.  “Why’re you still dressed?” 

That’s all it takes, and, somehow, it’s enough for Naomi. 


They fuck for hours.  It alternates between slow and soft, and hard and demanding. 

By the time Effy finally emerges from between her legs, Naomi’s completely spent. 

Effy licks her lips, lapping up the traces of Naomi that linger there.  Her eyes are spacey and her hair’s a mess, and Naomi can’t help thinking that she looks incredibly beautiful, even like that (or maybe especially like that).  Everything about her screams “just fucked,” and Naomi sincerely hopes that Effy has the sense to wait before traipsing back out of her house, past her mother, who sees far too much, and only misses things Naomi doesn’t want her to. 

“You taste as good as I thought you would,” Effy comments, slumping onto the bed beside her, not bothering to attempt to cover any part of her magnificently naked form. 

Naomi lets her eyes drag over Effy’s body.  Why not?  She’s just touched and tasted every part of it. 

Naomi doesn’t have words to reply, but fortunately, she knows that Effy doesn’t need them.  It’s something else they have in common.  They both deal just fine with silence.  They find solace in it, even. 

Naomi attempts to gather the energy to move.  If nothing else, she should really slip a shirt over her head and go brush her teeth, but she can’t be arsed. 

To her relief, after a few minutes of just lying there, Effy settles down, slipping under the sheets on her side of the bed, and pulling them up to cover Naomi as well.

She rests her head on the pillow facing away from Naomi. 

Naomi breathes in deep, taking in the obvious scent of sex in the air and feeling her pussy spasm at the remembrance of what caused it.  She turns to her side facing away from Effy, pulling the sheet up a little higher so that it covers her bare shoulders. 

They don’t need to spoon or cuddle.  Neither of them is like that.  It’s a comfortable silence between them that lulls Naomi to sleep. 

(It’s the hints of a dream, she thinks, when Effy stirs beside her and places a tender kiss on her cheek.  In the morning she’ll remember it as nothing more than a fleeting memory of things that probably didn’t happen.) 


They don’t talk about it.  They never have to.  It just happened, and, much to Naomi’s delight (or at least sexual gratification), it keeps happening. 

Naomi doesn’t question it.  Effy doesn’t offer explanations.  It’s how they work.  They both understand the system.  It’s something they have in common. 


“Don’t you wonder?”  Effy asks, kissing her way down Naomi’s stomach as her hands trace up the inside of Naomi’s thighs. 

“About?” Naomi asks lazily, stuck in the haze that exists in that state where you know you’re just between orgasms. 

“Why I chose you.” 

“It’s because we’re too similar.  We can’t work,” the answer comes without thought.  It’s nothing that Naomi’s thought about, but it makes perfect sense.  They can’t work so there’s no commitment, no sense of permanency, no demands, no traps.  It works for both of them. 

Effy pauses for a second, and Naomi’s about to lift her head to find out why, but then the kissing resumes and the idle fingers make their way back to her core, and she forgets all about it. 


It’s two months into their...well, whatever it was that they were doing (Naomi tosses the word affair around and discards it with a scornful laugh), when Effy makes an announcement. 

“I’ve stopped shagging Cook.” 

It’s a rare offering of herself, so Naomi sits up and takes notice.  Like her, when Effy offers up information willingly, it’s usually important.  It’s another thing they have in common. 

“And started shagging Freddie?” Naomi suggests. 

Effy’s eyes are sharp and focused when she replies with a simple, “No.” 

Naomi feels a shiver run down her spine, and suddenly there’s a pressure on her chest that wasn’t there before.  It’s the weight of the words.  She wonders is Effy feels it too, because after that, there’s no more talking, and the sex is harder, faster, harsher than it ever has been before. 

Afterwards Naomi feels like she can breathe freely again. 


Somehow two months turns into four, and four to six.  It feels important.  Six months.  It’s the longest relationship she’s ever had, not that she’s sure this qualifies. 

She can’t help wonder what the longest relationship Effy’s ever had was.  Her gut twists unexpectedly when she realises that it might be this thing with her, whatever it is. 

Six months.  She rolls the thought over in her head.  She’s not sure why, because neither of them really go for shite like this, but she feels like she should do something special. 

She goes to the shops and finds herself window shopping outside a jewellery store.  She rolls her eyes at herself and moves quickly on. 

When she finally heads to Effy’s, it’s with a rather expensive bottle of wine, and a general confused sense at why she bothered spending so much money. 


“South African Merlot?” Naomi offers up the bottle when Effy opens the door. 

Effy smiles in amusement and raises an eyebrow.  “What’s the occasion?” 

Naomi shrugs, finding herself not wanting to admit that there was one in the first place. 

Effy doesn’t press for an answer.  She simply leads her through to the kitchen where she produces two red wine glasses and pours each of them almost to the brim. 

“To six months, then?” Effy suggests, a knowing glint in her eye as she holds up her glass. 

Naomi coughs, choking on her own saliva in her surprise.  She should have known Effy knew.  She manages to regain her composure and she clears her throat.  “To six months,” she agrees in a raspy voice, feeling rather sheepish for having made this into something.  They clink glasses and Naomi downs several gulps of her glass thankfully. 

“Careful.  Don’t want you to choke again,” Effy comments dryly. 

“Fuck off,” Naomi grumbles, but she’s grinning despite herself. 

Effy matches her with a genuine smile, one that actually reaches her eyes.  It’s so rare a sight that Naomi stares for just a second, taking a mental snapshot in case she never gets to see it again.  It’s a beautiful sight. 

“You should savour it, you know.” 

“No kidding.  It was fucking expensive,” Naomi mumbles a split second before she realises she probably shouldn’t have said that. 

When she looks at Effy, she sees a knowing smile. 

Naomi takes another drink.  A sip this time.  It’s weird this, sitting at a table.  Most of their time alone together is spent on or near beds.

As if sensing Naomi’s discomfort, Effy stand, grabbing the bottle, and heads out of the room.  She pauses in the doorway when Naomi still hasn’t moved.  “Coming?” she asks coyly over her shoulder. 


“I’ve got something for you, too,” Effy says when the bottle’s empty and they’re both feeling suitably buzzed.  That pleasant buzzed where you feel really warm inside and the room only feels slightly unstable. 

Naomi eyes her curiously, but, instead of elaborating, Effy takes Naomi’s hand and leads her to the bed.  She strips her quickly, with a practiced hand, and pushes her back onto the bed. 

She straddles Naomi’s chest, and reaches past her head, to the small wooden headboard that barely sticks above the bed.  It’s then that Naomi sees the scarves hanging there. 

She opens her mouth to protest, but Effy silences her with a hard kiss, needier than usual.  As Effy’s lips distract her, Effy’s skilful hands tie the scarves around her wrists, not too tight, but not loose enough she can get out of them either. 

Effy pulls away when she’s done, having tied the other ends of the scarves to the bed posts.  She’s got a rather pleased look on her face as she climbs off of Naomi. 

“Eff-“ Naomi starts to protest.  She feels exposed in a way she hasn’t before. 

Effy ignores her, and, instead, begins an aggravatingly slow strip tease. 

Naomi can’t take her eyes away as inch after inch of flesh is revealed until Effy is naked before her. 

It’s then that Effy climbs back onto the bed, a predatory flash in her eyes. 

Naomi knows it’s futile to fight (not that she’s sure she wants to) as Effy’s hands run up her legs, spreading them, exposing her further. 

They stop just short of where Naomi wants them to be, of where Naomi’s already soaking wet and pulsing in anticipation. 

Effy examines her for a moment, like an artist admiring her masterpiece, before she repositions herself and turns her attention to Naomi’s stomach. 


Stroke follows stroke and touch follows touch, but none fall where Naomi needs them to.  Instead they bring her further and further into a sexual frenzy. 

By the time Effy starts with the licks, she’s literally writhing beneath her. 

It’s the most delicious torture that Naomi’s ever experienced, and she’s torn between never wanting it to end, and the pulsating need aching through her entire being, crying out to be satisfied. 

She’s sure she’s on the verge of breaking, her entire body quivering with want and need, her cunt so sensitive that she’s sure that if Effy just looked at her right she’d crash over the edge, when Effy stops her movements entirely. 

Naomi lets out a cry of disappointment. 

Effy climbs back up and levels herself with Naomi, forcing her to look at her.  There’s a moment where all Effy does is stare back at her, studying her. 

Naomi strains against her restraints, wishing desperately that she could just reach out and grab Effy’s hands, guiding them to where she needs them, but she can’t and Effy just stares a moment more. 

Then Effy’s lips are on hers, and it’s so much slower and more tender than anything Naomi’s ever experienced with her. 

Effy’s body covers her own and her fingers finally, mercifully find the spot that Naomi’s been longing for her to touch, but these actions too are softer, gentler somehow than ever before. 

It’s this that causes Naomi to hold out for longer than she’d thought possible, that lets her pull back just enough to relish in all of the sensations Effy’s creating within her. 

When she does come, it’s the most intense orgasm of her life, and Effy rides it with her the whole way, bringing her down gently. 

Her whole body is exhausted in ways she didn’t even know it could be, and when Effy unties her bonds she barely has energy left to bring her arms to her sides. 

She starts to apologise for not being able to return the favour right then, but Effy shuts her up with a kiss. 

“Don’t worry.  Not tonight,” she says, bringing the sheets up around them both.  “This was your present remember?” 

They fall asleep facing each other, arms overlapping, legs just touching. 


It’s at nine months that Naomi finds she has to ask.  She’s not even sure she wants to know (afraid of what the answer might be for numerous reasons).  Nonetheless, the words escape her mouth. 

“What are we?”

Effy’s fingers tracing patterns on her bare back pause. 

“What do you want us to be?” 

Naomi rolls onto her back and looks hard at Effy.  “Stop fucking around.  I’m serious.” 

Effy sighs.  “So am I.” 

Naomi doesn’t respond.  She’s torn between saying she doesn’t know, and saying she does. 

“Naomi, I’ve known what we are, what I want, for a while now.  If you still don’t know, then maybe you’re not as clever as I thought you were.” 

For once, Naomi doesn’t just instinctively know what Effy’s getting at. 

When her silence lingers, Effy climbs out of bed and starts to get dressed. 

It’s then that Naomi realises she’s upset.  Naomi’s failed a test of some sorts.  An important one, apparently. 

The only reason for her response could bet that –

“Oh,” Naomi murmurs in surprise as realisation dawns. 

She catches Effy by the wrist and pulls her back to bed, wrapping her arms loosely enough that she can look her in the eye.  Despite all the things they’ve done, this feels like one of the most intimate moments they’ve shared. 

“We’re too similar,” Naomi says.  It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing she can think of to say, and fortunately, Effy just understands, just like she always has and always will. 

Her sour expression fades to a grin that’s so open, and honest, and childlike that Naomi blinks to make sure it’s real. 

The kiss they share then is nothing like anything they’ve shared before.  There’s a certainty, a purpose, a knowledge behind it, driving it, that didn’t exist before. 

“This shouldn’t work,” Effy murmurs when she pulls away. 

Naomi grins and shakes her head.  “But it can.”