Float (gxg)

Do You Need Help?

Float

This collection of short stories will contain prose, playwriting style, etc. It will have mostly girlxgirl fics, and later maybe even some Larry Stylinson one-shots. Basically, anything interesting that has been "floating" around in my head, hahaha...sorry.

Enjoy.

Do You Need Help?

We're both performers. Dancers, not like the sluts with arousal on their poles, but actual dancers that perform with emotion and grace. You've always been much more graceful than I, but I've been known to captivate an audience with my face.

Tonight, all of the performers were chatting as they slipped into sexy dresses. I was never a part of that. You sometimes would, as you had more charisma than I ever did. I quietly put my dress and zipped it up on my own as usual, until something not as usual happened: the zipper got stuck.

I kept on pulling at it, hoping it'd just give in and zip up fully. It was then when I felt your gentle hands on my partially bare back.

"Do you need help?" you ask carefully, like any loud noise would scare me off.

I nod. "Please." I barely managed to get the word out smoothly.

You comply and fix the zipper. I turn and say, "Thank you."

You smile strangely, until I realize this is one of the few times we've actually spoken. "You're welcome." You say and brush a small strand of hair behind my ear, your lips parted ever so slightly. There's something in your fingertips that leaves me breathless. I know you feel the same exact way when I see your eyes widen.

That's when I know.

Our little moment is interrupted as the choreographer claps his hands to call the dancers' attention, instructing us to set in our places on the stage.

You mutter something and scramble away to your spot. I, being far from you, am not able to communicate to you because of the mass of bodies between us. The song begins and we perform. My eyes are on you, not the audience, and I keep thinking about our moment as my body automatically carries out the movements. You looked so beautiful in your dress, more than I in mine. You were absolutely born to do this, and you're spectacular as you do. As soon as I think this, your eyes collide with mine and we both get mesmerized by each other. There is no audience; it's just us. I perform for you and only you, and you do the same for me. As the song comes to the end, the dancers all do different poses. But we? We held hands and smiled shyly, too afraid to admit something we both felt.

As amazing of a person as I believed you were, I wasn't sure if I really liked you in that sense. I liked your eyes in the spotlight, your skintight dress that I was just itching to take off. To be completely honest with you (and myself), I just wanted to fuck you. I squeezed your hand, and we slipped away as the dancers moved off stage.

I kissed you first. You kissed me immediately back and stroked my face, my hair. I was trying to hold you steady as the intensity of our kiss heated. We fumbled with a door that opened to a dark room with some tables set out and chairs put away. I pulled off your dress when we broke apart for air, and you did the same to mine. I slammed you on one of the tables and laid on top of you. A noise that sounded like a cross between a growl and a groan erupted from your mouth.

You sigh as I kiss your neck while touching you. Before I can go any further, you stop me by laying a hand on my back, just like you did before.

"Can I do you first?" you ask.

I'm surprised. I don't want you to do me first, I'm usually the dominant one during intercourse. But I nod anyways, because I felt helpless under your gaze.