‘First Dawn’, by Elk Vilianni

“I think I’ve missed my last bus home,” Dawn said to Rosie, as they stumbled out of ‘The Odyssey Discotheque’. The humid night air smelt sweetly of the brewery which dominated the town.

“Stay with me, chick. If you don’t mind sharin’ my bed?”

“Aw, thanks Rosie. I’m that knackered I could lie down here and go out like a light. I can’t promise not to snore but I promise I won’t be a fidget.”

In Rosie’s room, as they undressed, Dawn yawned and asked if she could borrow a t-shirt. Sitting on either side of the bed, back-to-back, they shyly took off their bras before simultaneously slipping under the covers in their knickers and over-sized t-shirts.

Dawn giggled. “Hey, I bet you didn’t bet on scoring with me tonight, Rose.”

“Shut up, you idiot. Go sleep.”

“Night, love.”

“Night, Dawn.”

Sometime later, thunder shook them from sleep.

“Fucking hell, Rosie, did you hear that?”

“Mmm,” murmured Rosie.

Dawn turned onto her back, eyes wide open in excitement, as the rain began to hammer on the roof.

“I love storms!”

A flash of lightening was followed immediately by another thunderclap. Dawn squealed and grabbed Rosie’s hand.

“Yer daft thing,” laughed Rosie. “Come ‘ere.”

They giggled together, holding each other tighter with each peal of thunder.

“This is bloody brilliant!” said Dawn.

“It so is,” Rosie agreed. “I feel so friggin’ snug, with that goin’ on out there, and you here with me…”

Dawn’s hand settled, light and still, on Rosie’s breast as the rain grew even heavier.

They stopped giggling.

“Dawn, I’m not… I’m not that way, you know…”

“I know, love. Me neither,” murmured Dawn, her thumb softly grazing the rising stiffness of Rosie’s nipple. Rosie spoke but her words were drowned out by the storm and then stifled by Dawn’s kiss.

And, as the storm abated and fevered night gave way to morn, Dawn fingered Rosie, and Rosie fingered Dawn.

Image from Pixabay

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