Zoe for the umpteenth time dug the tip of the spoon she was gripping into the surface of the ice cream tub held within her merciless clutch. The cardboard carcasses of two other tubs littered at her feet where she slumped on her couch, previous victims to her insatiable need to consume their contents until there wasn’t a drop of life left. A massacre of the frozen confectionary kind.
After two and a half tubs of ice cream, her stomach was beginning to hurt but it could never feel the pain that her heart was currently enduring. So she soldiered on, spoon to ice cream, spoon to mouth, and repeat in this fashion until the bottomless chasm that had fragmented her soul would be filled again in a vain attempt at smoothing over her torment, a sugar-filled painkiller that never truly serves its purpose.
Her phone was lit up like a broadway sign only to intermittently go dark once again. Her friends had been calling her endlessly in a bid to get through to her, clearly the minimal effort text of ‘I’m fine c u soon xx’ she’d sent earlier that night had not been enough to stave them off. They were still worried, and rightly so. Just the evening before, her partner of three years had just upped and gone, only a week before Valentines - the time of the year when everyone is so loved up - how on Earth was she going to be alone for that?? What had she done so wrong?
Her reasons for leaving were rather dubious according to her friends who had insinuated that she’d been shagging another woman, although being slightly more tender in their wording given her fragile state.
“Tracey would never do that to me though!” Zoe had exclaimed, only to receive unconvinced yet sympathy-laced glances back from the group as they wiped the tears from her face and pushed her blonde, shoulder length hair behind her ears. That was last night, directly following the ordeal. Tonight she was going it alone, she needed some headspace. Yesterday the denial had cocooned her, akin to a layer of bubble wrap cushioning the sensitive goods inside of packaging. Twenty four hours of sleepless, incessant mental torture and much reminiscing on instances which contradicted her denial had been enough for her to begin to come to the hellish realisation...her friends were probably right.
Whilst tonight being completely contrary to her thoughts last night and knowing her concerned pals were speaking the truth, she still didn’t want to have to talk about any of it and was avoiding them for the time being.
The dissolution of her denial was beginning to alter her thoughts of sentiment to those of spite.
“Fucking asshole, fucking around and shoving your minge at anything with a pulse” she barked. The decibels of her voice lifting as she slammed down the meager leftovers of her third gelato-based fatality onto the coffee table in front of her, then maneuvering her laptop onto her lap.
“If you’re going to fuck around, I’m going to fuck around!” she exclaimed angrily whilst wearing an extremely furrowed brow above her hazel eyes that burnt with the fury of an unquenchable wildfire, all the while slamming the laptop keys with force as she typed.
She’d found a site, a hookup site where people could find one another for NSA sex. Now Zoe would never usually step outside of her trifle-sized comfort zone and using a site like this was far beyond the horizon of what she would call her line of ease. However, right now she was catalysed by a rage-fueled cocktail of anger and jealousy. She wanted to teach Tracey a lesson. A lesson that would teach her that she could play her game and play it better than her.
She created her profile and surveyed the site, searching through the women close by her. Messaging a few that tickled her fancy, she then placed down her still open laptop onto the coffee table with more control and a reduced level of aggression than the half hour preceding. Merely by browsing the site and messaging some hot gals, she already felt like she was achieving a portion of delicious revenge.
Zoe ventured out to the kitchen stepping over the mess of empty food packets, manually shredded photographs and duvet covers strewn at random which now outnumbered clear floor space to an approximate two-fold ratio. She removed a bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge and with her free hand picked out an oversized wine glass from the cupboard - a smirk on her face all the while.
Parking her rear back onto the indent that her behind had left from hours of sitting in the same slouched position, she now perched with more conviction. She held herself with a straighter spine and far improved poise, pouring herself a larger than average glass of the chilled wine.
“Cheers, to new beginnings and a new me” she stated, raising the glass slightly above her head. “Oh and to saying yes more, I need to be more of a ‘yes person’ and being ok with being single on Valentines. Also, cheers to getting rid of lying cheating bitches who don’t deserve a good woman and playing that ass at her own bleeding game”. Following her heartening, yet rather resentful speech to her audience of self, she sank approximately a third of the glass, polishing it off within its entirety after a few minutes and then pouring another. She subsequently began to feel the lull of sleep beckoning her with an alluring finger, succumbing after an excess of a day’s lack. It came with the simplicity of closing her eyes and twenty seconds of peaceful bliss.
She awoke disorientated, what time was it? Due to the orange hue of the living room light above her, she had no idea whether it was night or day. She dragged her finger across the trackpad of her laptop which was now in its own technological slumber, the screen made her eyes squint slightly as it once again radiated it’s white glow.
3:50 AM, wow she’d been out for seven hours, she didn’t even want to look at the amount of missed calls and texts her phone may have amassed in that time. She had a thought - ‘I wonder if I’ve had any responses on the site in the meantime?’
Hastily, she hunkered down with the laptop placed atop her legs which were now horizontal across the couch and waited with anticipation for her inbox to load.
Three of the ladies had replied! With a degree of elation, she began to open them up. Hmmn, first one had sent a pic of her vadge with nothing else other than a caption stating:
“Hey baby, you want some?”
“Wow, that’s forward” Zoe chuckled. “I know I’ve stated that I’m looking for NSA sex but let’s at first get some introductions out of the way!”
The second message was rather promising, she mentioned that she could call her Layla and that she lived a few miles away, attaching some photos to his message. None of them being vaginal-themed this time, mostly shots she’d taken in the mirror with her phone, although not the best quality. From what she could tell she was rather attractive but onto candidate three for now.
Number three was hot! She liked what she saw! She’d attached two pictures of clear quality, one with her top off displaying her body, the other, she appeared to be out and wearing a dressy sequin top and a mischievous smile that almost gave away the horny thoughts that hid behind her eyes. She’d written a small paragraph to her:
“Hey zoe475,
Thanks for messaging me, I’m glad that you like the sound of me from my profile. I like what I see from your pictures and from what I’ve read on your profile description, especially that bikini picture, that picture alone has got me rather horny. I’m sorry, I’m normally ladylike but I imagine that you’d give me some rather animalistic urges if we got together.
If you fancy let’s have a video call and we can get to know each other a little better…
queennsasex25.”
Zoe felt the butterflies in her stomach and a tingling between her legs - she was so unbelievably fit and the feeling was reciprocal. Zoe’s right hand rather involuntarily drifted down to her private areas which were within reach underneath the long t-shirt she had fashioned as a nightie. The tips of her fingers caressed her now extremely sensitive areas which were begging for her attention as she surveyed queennsa’s profile. There was ten pictures uploaded, one of which was set as private. Each picture was all the more sexy than the last, each subsequent image tapping into her sensual urges more-so than the last. That private image obscured from her view inspired the most sensual thoughts within her imagination’s eye, almost so that she couldn’t take it. She was in such a hypnotic state of eroticism that she was barely conscious of two of her fingers which were now inside her.
Whilst she wasn’t fully the definition of an underwear model, she could tell from her toned muscles that she would have the strength to hold her up against a wall, naked body to naked body simultaneously embracing in a level of skin-to-skin contact so close and so heavy that the sweat ran out from the crevices acting as a lubricant between the two of them as they gyrated up and down. This thought, so vivid and tantalising in her imagination’s eye carried her to the mountainous point of ecstasy, her breathing harder and harder as she ascended, pressing her body against the back of the sofa and reclining her head back, eyes closed as she let out a small scream that shattered the silence amid the room.
She lay in that position, savouring the moment, taking in the pure pleasure she’d convinced herself that she’d never feel again. As she remained there, she made a decision. Leaping back into an upright position, she hit the reply button to queennsa’s message, a green circle now adorning her profile picture to indicate that she was online.
Within the text reply box, she included her skype address and bit her lip as she waited with baited breath.
“I’d better make myself presentable” she effectively yelled as she bolted from her perch, tripping over items scattered across the beige carpet as she went. She pulled a hairbrush down her scalp and through her knotted strands so hard, it was enough pain for an ‘eep’ to escape her lips, closing her eyes tight in doing so. She threw on a nice top, leggings and a humble level of makeup to hide the fact that she’d not so long been weeping her way through an entire box of Kleenex whilst eating her weight in junk food. Arriving back at her laptop it seems just in time, her Skype had started ringing…
She was shaking slightly as her hand grazed the mousepad buttons and hovered over the answer option. She inhaled a deep breath and clicked.
A window popped up, the object of her very recent fantasy the center of the screen. She wore a mid-blue T-shirt which capped at those capable arms which had supported her, holding her upright as they rubbed up against one another, her long hair resembling a shade that could be described as mahogany and eyes that despite the mediocre quality image offered by the video call, she could tell glimmered with the blue of the deepest sapphire. Zoe gulped.
“Hi” queennsa25 smiled warmly with that charming yet knowingly mischievous smile, initiating the conversation.
“Hey” she retorted back rather bashfully. “How are you?”
“All the better for seeing you on the other end of a video chat” she continued to smile. “Thanks for messaging me back, I see you only joined a few hours ago, have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No” Zoe exclaimed, the question relieving her somewhat. “This is the first time I’ve ever done this - I’m a bit nervous”.
“Oh well don’t worry, I don’t bite...” her smile travelled up her face even further, the cheekiness really coming out in the expression, so much so that Zoe giggled. “What should I call you? By your username?” queennsa enquired?
“Well my real name is Zoe so feel free to call me that, and you are queen no strings attached twenty five then?” she raised an eyebrow and a smirk.
“You can call me Anya” she grinned.
They chatted for a good hour, covering common ground such as hobbies, where they’d travelled and touched on fantasies with a lingering undertone of mutual want. Zoe explained with diplomacy her situation that she was on a mission to become a ‘yes person’ and live more spontaneously, not disclosing about her recently lapsed relationship.
“Tell you what Zoe, let me take you for a drink tomorrow night, let this be the first of many more yes’ for you.”
She breathed in, preparing to speak but it seemed as though the excitement driven adrenaline had bonded with the oxygen depriving her of the ability to speak momentarily.
“Yes” she was finally able to utter amidst her exhilaration.
