Wicked Game

Chapter 8

   Jemima had long ago ruled out the chance that she might be asexual. She definitely had urges, but she had come to realize that she could take care of those all by herself. She didn't need anyone else in the mix to do that. In fact, from what she had experienced, she very much preferred it that way. She did, however, need to think about being with another person, to get off. It was usually a fictional character, even though she would never in a million years admit that to anyone. That she often imagined Rob Stark from Game of Thrones, Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy or sometimes even Hermione Granger, going down on her. No, that she was going to take with her to her grave.

That night, though, Jemima just couldn't make it happen with any of those images in her head. They just didn't do it for her. She had felt strangely horny all day and had longed to get home to her bed and do herself. But now, she just laid there, hand between her legs, trying to get the image of him out of her head. Harry didn't belong here, couldn't he just get the hell out of there. It felt very wrong and like it could open doors she didn't want to open, even if it was only in her head. She did not want to come, imagining him anywhere near herself.

So she sat up, in protest against her own, stupid brain. Then she just sat there for a few minutes, arguing in her mind what would really happen if she did this. It wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? She had no feelings for Harry and this wouldn't change that. She needed an orgasm and thinking about him was apparently the only way to get one, right now.

So she lay back down again, took her vibrator from the drawer in her bedside table and put it where she wanted it. It was a little uncomfortable at first, giving in to the fantasy of Harry, being all over her naked body. But as she got used to it, it just became better and better. He had those big hands, with long fingers and just the thought of what he would be able to do with those, made her shiver all over. And yes, she had recognized that he had a pretty huge bulge in the front of his very tight jeans and when she thought of how it would feel to have him inside of her, she came, hard.

Jemima could not look Harry in the eyes for the first ten minutes, when she saw him, two days after the whole masturbation-incident. But then she realized that it was just her friend and that she really wasn't even attracted to him. Harry was just Harry and that was it. She liked him a lot as a friend, but there really wasn't anything more to it.

That fact only made it slightly easier to look at him. She blushed a little when they met, by the corner of some very dodgy building he had told her to meet him by. He didn't seem to notice her red cheeks, so she decided she was going to grow up and stop being such a child. Sometimes you masturbated thinking about your technically very attractive friend. Loads of people did that every single day and there wasn't anything more to it. So she forced herself to change the subject of her thoughts and asked what they were doing at this very odd place. She really had no idea.

"Okay", Harry said, smiling. "It was going to be a surprise, but now that we're so close, I guess I could tell you."

He still didn't say anything though, so Jemima pushed him a little, jumped up and down on the spot, like an overexcited child, and begged him to tell her, in her most childish begging-voice.

"Come here", he said, grabbed her wrist and started walking. After about two minutes, they stood outside a tattoo parlour. Jemima froze.

"Harry, what are we doing here?" She already knew the answer and was terrified and excited, both at once.

"You remember how you said you had always wanted a tattoo..." He started, but didn't finish that sentence.

She had said that, a few weeks ago, when she had sat and studied some of the ones he had on his arms. She had always wanted one, but the reason why she had never got it, was because she was too much of a coward and thought she would probably end up getting out of the place after the tattoo artist had done one small line. And then she would be stuck with that forever.