Laura woke from the fevered dream drenched with sweat, but a strange peace surrounded her. She wasn't sick or frightened. It wasn't a nightmare. No, it was the same dream as before: the cat curled up to her, she pet it, and it bit her breast. Once again, she didn't feel any pain. Instead, it was like relieving some pressure on her chest, something heavy she was carrying around.
She was covered in sweat, but worse than that, she was still wet from the night before. Or more like the week before. She was hoping she'd dream of Marcilla and be ready to cum as soon as she woke up. Hell, she'd accept cumming in her sleep if it meant relieving the constant distraction and pressure on her pussy.
The arousal was affecting her work. She had to read pages over and over because her mind would wander. She'd come back to focus three pages later and see she hadn't made a mark in almost two thousand words. That's never a good sign. Her productivity was more than halved and all her daydreaming and fantasies hadn't made her life any richer.
She could only get close to cumming if Marcilla was involved. She needed the words, the precious words, to draw her in. She tried to fantasize being Laura K, but that didn't work. Sometimes, if she imagined Marcilla coming for her, Laura Delazier, she would feel something stirring inside her. But it was nothing like the Muse Sessions. Nothing on this earth was like the Muse Sessions.
Laura wondered if she begged Camille, would her boss let her cum? Would she have to participate? Would she have to touch Camille, eat Camille, or let Camille touch her? Is that the cost of cumming? Is that the price Angelica and Miss Lancaster paid?
Laura hoped not. Yes, she was fantasizing about a woman, but Marcilla was both less than that and more than that. Marcilla was a figment of her imagination, larger than life and supernatural. Marcilla was also a historical figure. There was no chance of Laura ever meeting anyone like Marcilla. So, maybe one woman in all of history turned her on, but that woman was gone. Camille was nothing like Marcilla.
If Marcilla was in the Muse Session, sprawled out before her, nothing could stop Laura from offering herself, from begging to be devoured. But Camille or Angelica or Miss Lancaster were something different. They were too flawed, too human, to be Laura's lover. They didn't have the gravitas of the Marcilla in her mind. She wasn't a lesbian or anything.
Right?
It didn't matter. Marcilla's gender didn't matter. Laura imagined Marcilla as a dark haired man, hunting her, and she ached. She saw Marcilla as an ethereal platinum blonde with white hair, slowly stalking her through the night without yielding. Marcilla could be genderless or asexual. Laura didn't want Marcilla's body; she wanted her teeth. She wanted to feel the edges of them running over her skin, nibbling, caressing, and then biting. She wanted to feel the life come out of her and into Marcilla. She wanted to be less so Marcilla could be more.
Laura whimpered as her hand pressed harder against her clit. She couldn't get any closer. It didn't matter how hard she tried, how hot or kinky her fantasies were, she couldn't get any closer than a perpetual edge. Why was this happening? Why now? In a job full of beautiful and sexual people where she reads smutty romance by day and participates in orgies at night, why now, was she unable to cum?
She knew what she had to do. She had to beg Camille to let her cum. She had to join in. Perhaps, if she told Camille how nervous she was, she wouldn't have to touch her. She could read the words, the perfect and haunting words, and then sit in the corner of the room touching herself. She could cum with everyone else. They could all worship Marcilla together in one chorus of moans.
Laura's pussy was slick, and the sounds of her pumping her fingers in and out filled the room. Her scent was heavy in the air. She was close. Maybe she could do it. She had to try. She needed to cum. Yes, she would submit to Camille. Camille would lead her to Marcilla, like a priestess leading her to a goddess. Just the thought of it brought Laura closer. If she gave into Camille, it would be like giving into Marcilla, yes. Yes.
The door slammed open as Nikki burst into the room with a tray of food and two smoothies. "I know where the white haired girl is-" she started as walked in, but she stopped when she saw what Laura was doing.
Laura almost didn't stop. For a moment, she didn't care that Nikki was gawking at her. She was close. She was so damn close. This was her moment. But Nikki's shock turned to a grin of amusement, and the mood was dead.
"Shit," muttered Laura.
"I can come back," said Nikki. She put the tray of food down on Laura's desk. "Honest."
"It won't matter." Laura tossed the covers off the bed and stood up. "Mind if I shower?"
"Can I yell at you while you do it?" asked Nikki.
"Sure," said Laura with a shrug. Nikki didn't like to wait. Nikki didn't like silences. This meant that most mornings were filled with them shouting back and forth at each other over the shower curtain while Laura washed off the previous night's Muse Session.
Nikki had become like a roommate, quickly replacing Claire. She harassed Laura, mocked Laura, and pestered Laura with a hundred questions, but it was all strangely comforting. It was like background noise that fought off loneliness, and somewhere in all the pointless banter, Nikki would be a good ear for Laura and have remarkable insight and clarity.
Every morning, the two girls had breakfast together. Laura had finally accepted that she needed to have breakfast first thing to fight off the mysterious soreness that haunted her. But each day, she was getting stronger earlier in the day. Normally, all it took was a shower and smoothie and by nine a.m., she was her normal self.
"Still hot and bothered?" shouted Nikki over the hot water.
"Shut up," muttered Laura.
"What?" shouted Nikki.
"Sort of," shouted back Laura.
"Want to borrow my vibrator?"
"Ew?"
"I'll clean it first, jeeze. Don't be such a prude."
"It's not prudish to be sanitary."
"It's not like you don't know where it's been," shouted Nikki. "It's been in my pussy. That's all."
"Changing subjects now," shouted Laura.
"We need to get you laid."
"Changing subjects again," pleaded Laura.
"I'm serious. You've been a puddle for almost a week. When was the last time you got laid?"
"It's been a long time," admitted Laura.
"How long?"
"A year?" guess Laura. The last person was a bad hookup she found at a party as a rebound to finding out her boyfriend was cheating on her. She didn't remember the guy. She didn't remember the sex. She remembered finding a used condom in her flats the following morning. That sticks with you.
"Cheese and rice, a year?!"
"Not so loud," hissed Laura.
"A year?"
"That's not abnormal. It's practically healthy to have plenty of time between relationships."
"You don't need a relationship to get laid, hun."
"Don't I know it," muttered Laura.
"What?"
"I know it," shouted Laura.
"Are you almost done in there?" asked Nikki.
"I haven't even started shaving."
"You can shave out here."
"I have to shave ... everywhere," Laura said, her face going warm.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"I don't want you to see me naked."
"I've seen you with two fingers in your pussy and you're afraid of me seeing you with a razor over your bush?"
Laura didn't say anything for a long time. Nikki liked to tease her and push her buttons. She thought of Laura as a stereotypical book worm with no sex life and practically still a virgin. She was close, but she wasn't right. Lately, Laura imagined her thoughts were twice as depraved as Nikki's.
"I'm sorry," said Nikki. It sounded like her mouth was full. "That was too far."
"I know you were kidding."
"Still. Too far."
"Thanks," said Laura. "I'll be out soon." Laura grabbed her razor and started to work on her legs. "Any adventures in man-hunting last night?"
"Hunting is a strange term. It's more like fishing. I put my breasts out as bait, and the fish swarm to me."
"Catch any live ones?" said Laura, giggling at the bizarre metaphor.
"Just one, but I let him go."
"Aww why?"
"He was a tit grabber. It's a bad sign."
"Why so?"
"Anyone so eager to grope me in public is going to be shit in bed. He'll be all enthusiasm and no skill."
"Poor guppie," teased Laura.
"Poor me is more like it. If a man can't deliver, my night is wasted. I don't have abundant free time to get laid."
"Join the club. I'm booked each night until the end of time for Muse Sessions."
"Yikes," said Nikki. "They that bad?"
"Haven't you been to one?" Laura felt she was pushing her luck. She tried to avoid talking about the Muse Sessions with Nikki whenever she could. She wouldn't bring them up with Angelica or Miss Lancaster if she could help it. It was like talking about the naked pictures of them you found on the internet that they meant for the boyfriend. The acts in the Muse Session were for Camille. Everyone else acknowledged that they happened, but never spoke about what happened during them.
"No," said Nikki. "Not one."
"Really?" Laura assumed after Miss Lancaster appeared that there must be some type of rotation. Surely, Nikki's turn would come soon.
"Yeah."
"Why not?"
"They said I was too new. I hadn't earned the right to be there."
"But I get to go," said Laura.
"Yeah, but you read. They want to make sure I've been around for a year or so before I wait on Miss K during such a sensitive time."
"Do you know what goes on during one?"
"Not really," admitted Nikki. "I know it's supposed to be inspirational for Miss K's writing. Other than that, I have no idea besides poetry reading."
"Yeah, that's about it," lied Laura. "There's a little pomp and circumstance to it, like a meditation or a scene from Dead Poets' Society, but that's about it."
"Count me out," said Nikki. "Poetry is not my thing."
"It's pretty good poetry," admitted Laura. "Some of it is pretty hot."
"Oh really?"
Laura turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. "Really," she said and grabbed a towel.
"Is that what's got you wound up this morning, poetry?"
Laura pointedly did not answer the question. She dried her hair as best she could with the towel. She used a second towel for the rest of her body.
Nikki stepped into the bathroom, looked at Laura, and raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm the one that has to wash those, right?"
"I know," said Laura cheerily.
"Trying to annoy me isn't a good way to make me forget about your slutty morning."
Laura blushed and pushed past Nikki. "There's nothing slutty about masturbating."
"For me? Sure. For you? That's one step away from whoredom."
"What do you mean? I'm allowed to masturbate. I masturbate." Nikki followed Laura into the bedroom. Laura picked out her clothes for the day: black pencil skirt, tight and sleeveless white blouse, plain white panties, and grey flats. "How often?" said Nikki. "How often what?" "How often do you masturbate?" "That's none of your business." Laura turned away, took off one of her towels, and thoroughly dried her body before getting dressed. "Prude," taunted Nikki. "Slut." "If that's your word for a sexually active woman, you're just proving my point." Laura turned around to face the redhead. "My god, you're incorrigible. Would you drop it?" "Come with me tonight." Laura noted the lack of apology. "We'll go out. We'll find you a guy you can fuck and forget. It'll be fun." "I don't think the big step in feminism and sexual freedom is to use men the way they've used us." "I think the big step in feminism and sexual freedom is to do what you want and makes you feel good among consenting adults and not give a damn what others think." Laura glared at her friend, then turned around and finished getting dressed. Nikki didn't say a thing while Laura got changed, and the silence between them quickly soured. "Sorry," muttered Nikki when Laura turned around again. "It's fine," sighed Laura. "Convincing." "I'm not trying to convince you." "Clearly." They both went over to Laura's desk. Laura sat down and started eating. Nikki cleaned her plate and watched Laura guzzle down her smoothie. "Damn girl, slow down," she said like a joke. Laura finished the smoothie, glared at Nikki, did not even grin, and put the glass down. "You don't need to hook up with anyone tonight. And we don't even need to go to a club or anything like that. Just come with me tonight. Anywhere. You haven't been out of this place since you moved in."
Laura wiped her mouth clean with her napkin, put it gently on the tray, and sighed. "I don't know. I want to hang out with you. That sounds like fun. But can't we do it here?"
"We're always here," whined Nikki as she rolled her eyes and stood up. "I mean, I work here. Would you want to spend your day off at your job?"
"I guess not," muttered Laura.
Nikki turned on Laura, rushing towards her friend and falling on her knees. "Then let's go out!" She grabbed Laura's hands. "Please."
"I don't know any place interesting."
Nikki's pleading face turned to one of disappointment. "Every place sounds interesting compared to here."
"Here? Not at all."
"It's a mansion filled with writers."
"Sounds like heaven."
Nikki rolled her eyes and stood up again. Laura wanted to tell her the truth, but she didn't know how to say it. She couldn't leave, not now. Not ever maybe. She wanted to find Marcilla, to dive into her words. She could only do that here. She wanted to cum. Dear God, she wanted to cum. Only Marcilla brought her close. This was the place for her. She wanted this place, and this place wanted her. She could feel it wrapping around her, keeping her safe, bringing her deeper and deeper into itself. It had more words for her, more answers.
"I'm worried about you," said Nikki, breaking Laura's train of thought.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"Why?" Laura was about to stand up, but Nikki sat on the bed next to her. Nikki moved in closer. "Because you're a beautiful girl in your prime, reading sexy stories all day, reading sexy poetry at night, and masturbating in the morning. You deserve better than your right hand." Nikki grabbed Laura's right hand for effect. Laura blushed. She could feel Nikki's breath on her skin. Sure, she'd been this close to Nikki before. Hell, Nikki had seen her naked. But never while they talked about Laura's sex life. Never while Laura could feel Nikki's breath on her. "I tend to use my left hand," whispered Laura. Nikki smiled at the weak joke. "You deserve better." "I'm not like you," said Laura. "I can't go and get laid. That's not how sex works for me. There needs to be more than attraction." "Romance?" asked Nikki. Her other hand moved to the small of Laura's back. "Relationship," whispered Laura. "And ... I don't know ... obsession." "Obsession?" breathed Nikki. Laura felt it on her neck. "Yes. I want it slow. I don't want lightning to strike two lovers from across the room. I want a love that smolders." Nikki's hand moved up Laura's forearm. "I want something small that turns into a bonfire." Nikki's other hand moved under the top of Laura's skirt. "I don't want to be struck in a moment." Laura kept her eyes looking forward. She couldn't look at Nikki, not when she talked like this. "You want to burn." Nikki's lips grazed lightly over Laura's neck.
Laura felt tingles sprawl over her body. Goosebumps exploded over her skin. Her crotch went wet and warm at the same time. God, she needed to cum. Dear God, she needed to cum.
***