Pizza, Pillow, and Pleasure

The living room glowed softly in the lamplight, the television flickering across the far wall with some half-hearted sitcom rerun neither of them was really paying attention to. Empty soda cans lined the coffee table beside a tangle of throw pillows and a blanket that had slipped to the floor. It was late, a lazy Friday night with no plans. Just two girls sharing a couch and letting the hours slip away.

Nichole sat cross-legged at one end, her back slightly hunched, shoulders narrow beneath a thin white tank top. The straps were delicate and clung just at the edge of her pale skin. The low cut showed off her mid-sized breasts more than she would be comfortable with in public. When she shifted, the thin cotton pulled tight over her chest, and the shape of her nipples pressed faintly through the fabric. Her pleated skirt fanned around her thighs, barely brushing her knees. Every movement made it sway, offering flashes of smooth skin.

Sally sprawled across the opposite end with far less concern for modesty. She lounged sideways, legs stretched out, one knee bent lazily while the other draped off the edge of the couch. Her lacy nightgown was black, sheer in places where the fabric gave way to floral patterns that only partly veiled the curves beneath. The hem rode high on her hips, showing toned legs that caught the lamplight in pale streaks. Her neckline dipped low, lace barely containing the swell of her breasts. The faint shadow of cleavage deepened whenever she leaned forward. The soft fabric moved when she did, sometimes slipping aside to reveal a nipple.

Where Nichole looked careful and contained, Sally radiated ease. Her wavy blonde hair was tied back loosely, a few strands curling around her cheekbones, blue eyes glinting with amusement at whatever offhand joke she had just made. She absently stretched, arching her back, and the thin straps of her gown slipped against her shoulders, teasing as if they might fall further. The room felt warm, saturated with the comfortable closeness of two young women who knew each other well. Nichole’s eyes sometimes flicked toward Sally’s legs before darting back to the screen.

Nichole shifted again on the couch, tugging the hem of her skirt across her thighs as if it mattered. The cotton of her tank clung to her chest. She hugged her knees closer, balancing her soda can on one of them, pretending to be more absorbed in the TV than she was.

Sally stretched out with a groan, bare legs sliding over the cushions until her toes brushed Nichole’s hip. “God, I cannot wait for this semester to be over. If I have to sit through one more three-hour lecture where the professor just reads the slides, I swear I’ll walk out.”

Nichole laughed softly, tilting her head toward her friend. “Which class this time?”

“Psych of Learning,” Sally muttered, rolling her eyes. The nightgown tugged lower as she propped herself up on one elbow, lace shifting with the rise of her breasts. “You’d think a class about how people learn would be taught by someone who knows how to keep people awake.”

Nichole smiled, but her gaze caught on the deep line of cleavage framed by the sheer lace. She looked away quickly, cheeks warming. “At least you’re passing,” she said, voice a little tighter than she meant.

Sally caught it, smirking. “Barely. But yeah. What about you? You still killing yourself with that bio class?”

Nichole nodded, sighing into her drink. “It’s brutal. I’ve been doing a lot of memorization, and I keep second-guessing myself on the labs. I don’t even know why I picked biology. I just…” She shrugged, resting her chin on her knees. “I like… understanding how things work. Especially bodies.”

Sally laughed. “Bodies, huh? Sounds like you’re already thinking like a doctor. Or maybe a mad scientist.” She reached out, nudging Nichole’s bare calf with her toes again.

Nichole giggled nervously, but her skin tingled where Sally’s foot grazed her. She shifted to set the soda can down, secretly glad to free her hands. She didn’t trust her grip when she felt this jittery.

Her voice softened without her meaning. “Maybe I just… notice people more than I should.”

Sally tilted her head, blonde strands falling against her cheek. “Yeah? Like who?”

Nichole’s stomach fluttered at the question, a rush of heat making her aware of how thin her tank top was, how her nipples pressed against it in the warm air. She tried to laugh it off, heart racing. “Like… everyone,” she said, dodging, but inside she wondered if Sally could already tell exactly who she meant.

Sally sat up suddenly, dragging her knees to her chest as she shifted to face Nichole fully. The lace hem of her nightgown rode higher with the movement, and the delicate fabric parted just enough between her thighs to show her pussy. Her breath caught, gone as quickly as it registered when Sally wrapped her arms around her shins. Nichole stared at the TV too hard, cheeks hot, praying her friend hadn’t noticed the way her eyes darted. But the image lingered in her head anyway. The clean, shaved reveal of her sex, tucked away now behind folded knees. She swallowed, her throat dry, as if she hadn’t just seen the most intimate part of her best friend.

“So,” Sally said, oblivious or pretending to be, “who’s the hottest guy in your bio class? There’s always at least one.”

Nichole forced a laugh. “Um… there’s Derek, I guess. He sits two rows ahead. Kinda tall, messy hair. Everyone stares at him when he talks.”

Sally grinned knowingly. “Ahh, tall, dark, and probably dumb. Classic. Anyone else?”

Nichole shrugged. “A couple. There’s a guy who always shows up late and still manages to look like he came out of a catalog. It’s ridiculous.”

Sally hugged her knees tighter, rocking a little, and her gown shifted again, the lace outlining the curve of one breast. Nichole tried to focus on the conversation instead of how close the fabric was to slipping.

“Okay, but real talk,” Sally said. “Hot in class doesn’t compare to hot at the beach.”

Nichole perked up, smiling despite herself. “You mean when they all play volleyball and just” She gestured helplessly with her hands. “take their shirts off like it’s no big deal.”

“Exactly!” Sally laughed, tossing her hair back. “Like, half of them should be fined for public indecency, looking like that.”

Nichole’s cheeks flushed, but not just from the thought of shirtless guys. “Honestly… It’s not just them. The girls, too. Some of those swimsuits should be illegal.”

The words slipped out before she could filter them. She froze, realizing what she’d admitted. Sally raised her brows, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh-ho. So little Nichole likes to sneak looks at the girls, too?”

Nichole’s stomach fluttered, equal parts fear and relief. She tugged at the hem of her skirt, wishing it could cover more than it did. “Sometimes. I just… notice, you know?”

Sally laughed, low and teasing, the sound curling in Nichole’s belly.

“Notice? Sweetheart, that sounds like someone’s got some serious pent-up energy.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees, eyes locked on Nichole. “Tell me the truth… when’s the last time you got laid?”

Nichole’s throat went dry. She shifted, gripping the edge of a pillow. “I haven’t,” she admitted softly. “Not… ever.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Sally blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “You’re kidding. You’re twenty-one, Nicki, and still a virgin?”

Nichole buried her face in her hands, wishing she could sink into the couch.