chicks, pants, showing it all, dancing


See the Shadows of Innocence and Sanity

a shadow of the day

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can finally post!!!! about nisha, food THE ROUND TABLE
chicks, pants, showing it all, dancing
About Nisha.

It happens on a Thursday, which she guesses she should have expected after all. She hates Thursdays because they creep up on you all innocent-like until you look back and suddenly everything’s gone to shit way too fast. Just like that, just a snap, and it’s all downhill. She should have known Thursdays mean trouble. It’s not just rainy days and Mondays anymore.

She can still taste a cool slip of sake on her tongue, bright and burning itself into her throat. She feels like she hasn’t had the chance to savor it properly, to have felt it burn through the remnants of sushi and tempura and toss her into a new awareness of her surroundings. As it is, she only feels the slightest bit giddy and wonders if she locked her door before Aralyn had her traipsing back out into the city for something she’d lost between Sifu and the restaurant.

“Come on,” she demands, pressing cool, dry fingers against Nisha’s clammy palm in a desperate grip. “If we hurry, they won’t be closed yet.” The pavement grits against her boot heels as she tries to keep up and keep her mind off the sway of the girl’s hips in front of her. They take a different way, she’s sure, to get back to the sushi bar. The streets look unfamiliar in streetlights and shadows, and she stretches her legs further, eating up the pavement beside the girl in her eagerness to get to the place quickly.

The restaurant is closed by the time they’re back at its frosted glass doors, lights off and only the sushi bar faintly illuminating the glass from the far corner of the building. Nisha blinks, the cool air sobering her and helping her remember just how late it had gotten anyway. There was something about a bottle and good company that always lulled her and made her forget time and place, everything but her companion. Her cheeks flush dully red in the streetlight, partly in her anger at herself at letting things get away from her.

Aralyn slams a palm against the brick wall of the building, the sound of it flat and gritty even as the wind starts picking up around them. “Fuck!” Nisha can hear her mutter, her black jacket slipping off a shoulder unheeded as she pulls her hand into a fist and bangs it against the wall again.

“Did you really need it?” Nisha asks, gesturing inside vaguely, still not knowing what it was that Aralyn had forgotten.

“Only if I wanted to get back into my dorm. There’s no one at the desk this late.” Aralyn taps her foot impatiently for a moment before pushing off the wall and turning to look Nisha in the eye. “Think I could stay with you tonight?”

Nisha seizes, eyes suddenly averting and her hands pushing down into her coat pockets as deep as she can force them. She jerks her head back toward the campus woodenly and shrugs. “Come on then,” she half murmurs, turning to walk back to Sifu.

Aralyn sashays up next to her, linking their arms together tightly enough that Nisha can’t shake away. “What’s the matter? Afraid someone will think you’re taking advantage of a student?” She laughs a little at that. “It’s not like I’m one of yours, anyway. It’s no one’s business what you get up to with me.”

Nisha gives a half a laugh, trying to force herself out of her hunched shoulders, her stiff walk, and back into the calm girl she was only a moment before. It’s not as if she was going to sleep with Aralyn. Even if this was a date. Nisha tries very hard not to let it get to her, passing off the shiver that passes down her spine at the thought to the chill of the air and her lack of sleeves.

There’s very little time left to talk between them on the way back, Nisha makes certain of that. If she talks, she’s sure to say something they’ll regret, something that will hurt Aralyn. They’re back in Sifu’s artfully graffitied walls before they have the chance to discuss much of anything, only enough time for Nisha to have tried to think who she could call to open up Aralyn’s dorm for her until she could get her keys. Nisha finally gets her arm disentangled, failing miserably at not noticing how she feels colder without the girl attached to her, and goes to unlock the door with shaking hands.

And yelps as she feels the press of soft curves against her back, chilly fingers dipping into a pocket of her slacks as others tease along her neck, shifting fluffy tight curls out of the way of her ear.

“Thank you,” a whisper and a smile, pressed against her ear. Nisha pushes away irritably, opening the door and flipping on a light as she goes to the kitchenette and puts distance between the two of them. “God, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” Aralyn exclaims, shutting the door behind her and dropping her jacket off on the hook near the door. “You’d think you were scared someone would see!”

A soft gasp follows as Nisha stiffens and shoots the girl a dirty glare. She takes a deep breath and turns her back on the girl, dropping their glasses into the little dishwasher and trying to calm herself down again. She hears the click of heels behind her and has a moment to turn before she feels herself being pushed up against the bare brick wall of the apartment. The sharp bite of grout against her shoulders is nothing compared to the feel of Aralyn pressed so tight against her that she feels the girl’s fishnets clean through the linen of her own slacks.

“It’s not because I’m a student. It couldn’t be. You’re scared because I’m a girl.” Aralyn has a hand planted just on either side of Nisha’s head, effectively blocking out everything but the two of them in that moment.

“They say that God destroys homosexuals.”

The girl has the audacity to laugh. “If you believed that,” she whispers, dipping her head forward until their lips are just a breath apart, “you wouldn’t have asked me out with you tonight.” Their kiss is chaste enough, a prolonged touch, lipping at each other’s mouths in no hurry at all. But Nisha feels hot everywhere, shivers when the girl’s fingers come down and trail along her collarbone, down over the gauzy fabric of her shirt and underneath it to tease at her belly. No pressure, just butterfly light and there.

Nisha doesn’t catch her breath when they part, her head lolling back as Aralyn presses a line of softslick kisses down the caramel length of Nisha’s neck and shoulder. She’s teasing the hem of Nisha’s shirt up, her own little dress rucked up awfully high on her hips, when she whispers at her companion’s ear again. “What do they matter, if you’re happy?”


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