Thread: My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke

My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke As far as it was from her own intimate abode, Maitreya couldn't say that her surroundings did not fit the woman who'd brought her home amidst bubbling sexual fervour. The loosely ordered pandemonium of paints, swatches and half-packed clothes somehow perfectly reflected the state of mind which she had associated with the woman a misplaced mess of emotions stuffed into place, more concerned with giving the illusion of order and control than actually attaining it. The scene reminded her of her childhood, when upon being asked or told by her mother to clean her room, she'd stuff clothes, magazines, and scraps of paper upon which she'd drawn on written into any available concealed space, feigning tidiness as efficiently as possible so that she could flee the house to play with her friends. Like her childhood companions, she was sure that Brooklyn would be fun to play with, though she would have to be directed in far more subtle ways than that in which Treya directed her friends in the short plays she so loved to write in her pre-adolescent years. Really, it was too perfect, she reflected as she gazed about the loft, and - as if she needed it - felt encouraged in her pursuit of the designer. She was ideal for the part there would be nothing false or insubstantial about her tragedy. It would be felt fully and lent beauty by that which shone in her eyes and in her freckles. Treya had time to wonder how the loft would look in the cold light of morning, how the warmth of the bed and Brooklyn would massage her naked flesh and if her lover for the night would have the time to steal an extra ten or thirty minutes to cuddle beneath the sheets before rising. She saw through her tough, couldn't give a fuck exterior to the vulnerable girl beneath, and she adored her for it. Strength was something she associated too strongly with herself, and while it also served for a a delightful turn-on in sex - almost to Treya a taboo whenever she gave herself up to it - it was weakness which attracted her to most, something so profoundly innate in the human spirit that it could not be anything other than resplendently beautiful. Here was a woman over whom she could dote - over whom she must dote - because the universe had a great sadness in store for her. A wide, lusty grin broke across her face as Brooklyn closed the space between them, the grating lament of the sliding door punctuated with a low, deep purr from Treya's throat as she let herself fall back against it, her arms slipping around Brooke's waist and pulling her close for another passionate kiss. She felt her arousal swell in her breast and fuel the heat growing between her supple-skinned thighs, and felt too the eager endeavours of hands upon her torso, waging victorious war upon the garments which concealed the true depth of her natural beauty. Her sleek woollen sweater rose, and with it the hem of the stringed and skin-tight tank top which adorned her upper body. Her own fingers found the flesh beneath Brooklyn's close and dug in, leaving small marks either side of the small of her back. She arched her hips forward and sighed into the very same mouth into which her tongue delved, and Brooke's taste was intoxicating. Eyes closed, her world became taste, scent, and above all the feeling of Brooke's hands upon her lithe body and hers beneath her own the soft, passionate sounds of their kisses and desperate sighs which rang in her ears like music. Her hands roamed the other's body, pressing her palms across her gentle curves and kneading warm flesh between her fingers. With every inch they rose, so to did the clothing which would keep her from her desire, and with a sudden surge of passion she pushed Brooke's top higher, gripping it by the hem and forcing it upwards, breaking the kiss only to see it rise over her head and bare more of the body which it cruelly concealed.