Chapter 2

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The waitress entered, quietly, looking around. “I can’t stay long,” she breathed. “Jeff’s going to be pissed I stepped away, but I couldn’t let you walk out of here and never see you again.” She reached up to run a finger down Ivy’s cheek. Ivy’s heart thumped within her.

“What’s going on?” Ivy asked. She glanced at the waitress’s chest again. “Poppy? What’s happening to me? I haven’t ever been so desperate to kiss someone.”

Poppy groaned. “I know…” She lifted her other hand to Ivy’s face and drew it toward her.

Ivy’s heart skipped as her lips were dragged to Poppy’s. Then she was being kissed, more soundly and more sensuously than she’d ever been kissed before. Poppy pushed her backward against the washbasin. She could feel the waitress’s breasts below her own, lifting hers. She moaned, then pushed Poppy back. “Someone will come in,” she said, surprised at how hard it was to speak while she panted for breath.

“Yeah,” agreed Poppy, and Ivy would have sworn her voice had dropped an octave. She grabbed Ivy’s hand and dragged her into a stall.

There was a strange sound, as if someone was whispering, but all of the stalls had been empty. It must have been weird acoustics, or sounds in the ventilation system. She didn’t particularly care. Her attention was focused on Poppy.

“Kiss me again,” whispered Poppy. She took Ivy’s top by its hem and tugged her close.

Ivy responded by pushing Poppy back against the door and pressing herself to her. Then she backed off, stepped out of her heels and moved in again. Now her breasts met Poppy’s. She squeezed their bodies together as they kissed.

The soft breasts felt good against hers. She reached for the top button of Poppy’s shirt and began to unfasten it, fingers meeting yielding flesh as she worked them between their bodies. Her companion’s hands were under her soft top, exploring Ivy’s skin.

Poppy’s shirt was unfastened down to her navel. Ivy parted it, then slipped it down her shoulders until she could reach Poppy’s bra strap. Moments later, the bra was loose, its straps were over her shoulders with the shirt, and Ivy was ducking to suck her large nipples. Without her heels, she hadn’t needed to lean down very far. Poppy stifled a groan as the bathroom door opened, then one of the stalls.

Ivy could feel the woman’s shallow breaths, even if she couldn’t hear them. Then she felt a hand leave her waist and lift her skirt. Her leggings and underwear were yanked down, and Poppy’s finger slipped into her. She moved her thighs, impaling herself on the finger, then squeezing the shorter woman’s hand as the finger curled against her.

As silently as she could, she rocked against the finger. After a minute or two, there was a flush, then footsteps as whoever had entered the bathroom was leaving. Faucets ran, then the whine of the electric dryer. Finally, the door closed. Ivy gasped and thrust against Poppy’s finger. Her excitement was so thorough that she immediately felt her passage harden around the waitress’s finger. She opened her mouth as her orgasm crashed into her, but Poppy freed her other hand and slapped it over Ivy’s lips, stifling her cry.

Ivy was still quivering with occasional aftershocks when they separated. “God, I don’t know what came over me, but that was intense. I want to do it to you.”

“Me too,” said Poppy. She seemed almost as shaken as Ivy. “I’ve gotta get back to work. Let me have your phone.” Ivy unlocked her phone and handed it over. A moment later Polly returned it. “I texted myself. I’ll contact you when I turn my phone on. I can ditch my boyfriend tomorrow evening?”

She had a boyfriend? Well, so did Ivy, for now. She’d have to ditch him, too. “Okay,” she said.

“Fuck, that was hot,” whispered Carmen.

“Tell me about it,” groaned Layla. It didn’t help that not only had the woman she’d shot been fucked right before her, but Carmen’s delicious, near naked body had been in view the whole time, breathing heavily, breasts flushed and narrow nipples erect with arousal. As were her own, dammit.

“Shit, I’ve lost a button.” That was the waitress, still putting herself together. “Maybe I can tell Jeff my shirt caught on a hook and that’s why I had to take so much time in the bathroom.”

“Here, I have a pin,” said the other woman, digging into her purse. Her face glowed, and if the guy at the table couldn’t tell she’d just had sex, he was blind. Though in Layla’s limited experience, that wouldn’t be unusual for a man.

“Good luck,” the woman whispered. “Text me. I, uh… Oh, huh, I’m Ivy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ivy.” said the waitress, following her out.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Carmen. She pushed herself against the door, and a second later, slid through it. It was weird to see, but weirder to do. Bumping into someone was one thing. They felt solid. Passing through an obstacle was something else. Initially, it felt hard, but as you pushed against it, it would seem to soften.

Maybe you could pass through someone that way, but even if it worked, Layla figured, you’d leave a traumatized person behind you. You felt the material you slid through. Surely the material would feel it, if it was aware.

She followed Carmen through the door. The girl was halfway to the window. Layla took a different path, to avoid servers and stray feet, and slid through the glass just behind her.

“So why are you not naked?” Carmen quizzed her.

“Because I’m not your wish fulfillment fantasy?” Layla sniped.

“I can’t lie, it would be a pleasant sight. But you broke the rules.”

“Maybe there isn’t a rule. Maybe it’s just Franchise bigotry.”

“There’s definitely a rule,” said her companion. “Heterosexual couples, single, marriageable age only.”

“You’ve never violated the single rule? Sometimes it’s hard to tell they’re encumbered if they’re seriously looking for an affair.”

“True,” Carmen admitted. “I guess I thought they wouldn’t penalize us if we had plausible deniability. Are you suggesting they don’t even know?”

“They know counts, do they know names?” Layla argued. “Maybe they’re written in a ledger somewhere. Handwritten. It won’t be a computer file. Maybe they only have counts.”

“Now who’s wishful thinking?”

“You’re the one who fucked up the shot,” Carmen taunted.

“And you’re the one who’s stalking me, perv.”

“Wouldn’t you want to see you naked? Nothing pervy about being attracted to a girl’s body. You have great curves.”

Layla sighed and shrugged. “But my clothes haven’t vanished. I think I’m onto something.”

“The whole traditional straight focus is stupid anyway,” Carmen said. “It’s all about the sponsorship. Chocolates, bridal dresses, high-end registries. Haven’t they realized that we can do all that shit too, now?”

Layla had known that the girl was gay. Most hunters were; even bi girls were disqualified if they’d had sex with a man. In a past season, a hunter had suggested that the rules recalled a time when hunters were pre-pubescent children and as that became less practical, the definition of a child expanded to teens and adults who hadn’t engaged in intercourse. Hence the tiny uniforms, and the non-straight recruits.

The eagerness of this Carmen to see her naked seemed more than looking forward to gloating at her failure, and she’d reddened when Layla had found her eyes exploring. She had to be gay. But “we” still gave Layla a tiny surge of arousal.

Though the girl was still an ass.

Layla dodged into a doorway to avoid a clump of pedestrians, then had to leap out and flatten herself to a window as the door opened to let shoppers out. She slipped through the window into the store’s display until the commingling of foot traffic had straightened itself out. She emerged to find Carmen stepping back up onto the sidewalk from the street.

“How many years have you done this?” Layla asked.

“This is my third,” Carmen replied. “You?”

“Fourth. I guess you’ve never accidentally shot a pair of women?”

Carmen made an exasperated sound. “Of course not. If I had, I’d know if you’re about to have your uniform confiscated. It looks like my patience isn’t about to bear fruit.”

“You’re still a jerkface,” Layla said, “but I admire your persistence. Maybe instead of stalking me to see what happens, you should buy me dinner.”

“Huh. Would I get to see you naked?”

“Probably not, but it would be less creepy than stalking.”

“Hey, Layla?” Carmen said, affecting an innocent look. “May I buy you dinner?”

“No,” replied Layla. “Unless…“

“Unless you join my struggle against bigotry this afternoon, by selecting same-sex targets.”

“But then I might be punished,” Carmen objected.

“Exactly,” Layla said. “Show me you’re willing to bare all for the cause. Where do you live?”

“Not far from here.”

“Let’s find an alley, so I can turn my phone on. Then shoot five pairs, and I guarantee you’ll see me naked one way or another.”

Carmen’s grin was mischievous. “If you don’t want to head home, I’ll loan you clothes so we can go get a pizza. And as far as I’m concerned, you won’t need to go home at all.”

Jasmin followed Zahra from the bus drop. She was feeling down. Zahra’s vile boyfriend Adrian had talked her into a V-Day date. She’d been dejected since Zahra, the younger of the two, had turned eighteen. Before that time, she’d told herself she would confess to Zahra when they were both adults. Now she had to recognize she was holding back due to cowardice. Soon, they’d finish their senior year, and head in different directions for college, and she’d lose her chance.

She’d watched her best friend move from boyfriend to boyfriend, never happy with any of them. She’d supported her through pregnancy scares and chlamydia. The last Zahra had only discovered because that jerk had cheated on her, but he might not have been the one to infect her. Each time Jasmin mourned what she couldn’t have, while helping Zahra pick herself up and start the cycle again.

Adrian was probably no worse than the others, but V-Day? Zahra deserved so much better.

She felt a sudden spike of emotion as she thought about them. Damn it, she had to tell Zahra. She probably wouldn’t listen, but she was Jasmin’s best friend, and she couldn’t let her do this to herself.

Zahra was leading her into her mom’s apartment. Her mom wouldn’t be back for hours, but they helped each other with homework most afternoons. Mostly they gossiped and watched videos, but homework was a good excuse.

At the door, Zahra seemed to stumble. She didn’t fall, or even have to catch herself, but she stood still for a moment.

“Are you okay, Zahra?” Jasmin asked.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking, we should listen to some Olivia. We haven’t done that in…”

“At least two days,” Jasmin finished, with a grin.

“Yeah, well.” Zahra skipped up to her room door, dropped her coat and backpack, then turned on her speakers, which beeped as they connected to her phone. A moment later, music filled the room. “Dance with me,” said Zahra, grabbing Jasmin’s hand and hamming up her dancing.

Jasmin freed herself to take her own coat off, then held hands and danced with her friend. After a couple of tracks, Zahra calmed down and swayed in front of her. This was nothing like slow dancing, but it was not something they’d done before. Zahra stood before her, a slight frown on her face, her breasts no more than an inch from Jasmin’s. She reached out to run her fingers along Jasmin’s shoulders, absently pushing the spaghetti straps of her top from side to side, then moving her bra straps too, as if adjusting the position of pencils on a desk.

“You’re so pretty,” Zahra said. “I always thought you were the most attractive of my friends. You’re always here for me, aren’t you?”

“I… yeah, I try,” said Jasmin. “There’s, uh, something I want to talk to you about,” she added.

“What is it, pretty Jasmin?” Zahra beamed at her.

“Umm, Adrian,” Jasmin said. Zahra scowled, but it didn’t seem to be at her friend. “Are you sure you want to be with him on V-Day? He seems like, umm, trouble.”

Zahra just watched her, still swaying, still running a finger over the straps of her top. Since she didn’t say anything, Jasmin continued, more to not let the silence get uncomfortable than to be demanding.

“I think he, you know, uh, he’s cheated on his girlfriends. Uh, several of them. Maybe all. I, uh, I think you deserve better.”

“Maybe I do,” said Zahra. Her fingernails explored the back of Jasmin’s neck. Their bodies seemed to be even closer. “Who else could I take for V-Day, though?” She paused for a moment before adding, “I wish it could be you.”

Jasmin’s insides did a somersault. Had she really heard her best friend correctly? Surely not… She felt her cheeks burn anyway. “Me?” she squeaked. Zahra’s expression turned sad, as if she was expecting Jasmin to mock her thoughts. “It could… uh, I mean, uh, why couldn’t it be me?”

Zahra looked confused. “Because you’re my friend. You don’t like me that way.”

“Oh, God, Zahra,” Jasmin groaned. “I’ve always liked you that way!”

Zahra just stared at her. Then Jasmin felt the distance between them vanish completely. Her friend’s breasts pressed into hers as Zahra’s lips met hers.