Less Than Lovers | LisRene AU

6

Irene wouldn't stop touching her. Platonically.

It was frustrating, to say the least. For Lisa, floodgates had opened. Conclusively knowing Irene was interested in her only goaded her on.

The past two weeks were a celibate dating experience, basically. Nothing ever came up about their conversation where they admitted their feelings to one another, but it didn't need to be said. And nothing ever happened – well, nothing, in terms of sex or even kissing, but it hung in the air. Like a suffocating blanket that looked a great deal like Irene in her little shorts and tank top, which is what she was wearing right now.

She didn't know how it was possible for someone to look edible, but Irene did and had no idea. Or maybe she did. She probably did. Irene was surprisingly devious.

Lisa traced her eyes up Irene's body, in the least objectifying way she could, it was purely for science, to admire God's great creation, to gaze upon living art, etc., and when she landed on Irene's face, she found Irene smirking back at her, eyebrows raised.

Well, shit. She was caught.

Lisa blushed and turned away. She shifted in her seat a little, not realizing she had worked herself up so much. She heard Irene laugh as she made her way back to her kitchen.

See? Irene was devious.

Lisa loved it. She could just eat her alive.

Yeah, it was getting hard to ignore the physical compatibility that they shared. 'Physical compatibility' was Lisa's clinical way of avoiding saying 'sexual tension', it was in an effort to make her less, well, horny when thinking about her relationship with Irene. It didn't work.

And again, it didn't help that Irene wouldn't stop touching her. They'd hung out a few times, always in private, at one of their places, which felt a lot like sneaking around and each time Irene always found a reason to touch her.

"Friends hold hands, right?"

"Sure."

"Friends cuddle?"

"Fine, cupcake."

"Friends spend the night?"

"Irene, you're going to kill me." That one was a joke. Lisa was 80% sure of it.

She didn't mind, per se. Lisa wasn't an idiot. If a beautiful woman wanted to touch her, she was going to let her touch her.

But sometimes it was too much. Sometimes she had to stop herself from grabbing her and kissing her, and finally letting go of almost three months of sexual frustration. No matter how many 'friends' Lisa had, somehow none of them made her feel half as alive as Irene had with her damn hand-holding and cuddling.

Speaking of those girls, as far as Lisa's concerned, they dropped off the face of the earth. Unfortunately, that didn't deter them from contacting her, which led to some discomfort on Lisa's part when she and Irene were together and her phone wouldn't stop lighting up from texts.

"You're popular, Lisa." Irene reached over and grabbed Lisa's phone from the side table next to her couch. She scrolled through the messages. "Twelve texts from five different girls. One of whom is named 'Brunette With The Hair Thing'. What an interesting name, Lisa." Irene smiled sweetly.

"Uh, excuse me? Ever hear of privacy?" Lisa said, taking her phone back.

"And by 'Hair Thing', does that mean her hair did a weird style thing or did she have a weird fetish for hair?"