Girlfriend On Mars

31. "To touch you"

Thirty One.

"To touch you."

A short while after ten thirty am, Marley was stood in Jen's living room, hair tugged away from her oval face in a tidy ponytail. A sudden change in temperature had whisked her to Jen's house in threading denim shorts, pale, smooth legs extending like needles from beneath her. The curves of her body were hidden under a large white shirt with the print of a blue butterfly boxed in the top corner above the swell of her breast. She was watching whatever programme was playing on the television, stood and facing.

Jen had a dorsal view of her; eyes finding the hollow of the knees, the thin dip of her popliteal, her neat peachy calf, down to her rough white socks at her ankles. The nape of her neck was teased, half covered by her ponytail.

Jen's parents had gone away for the weekend, and though she'd been offered a place on the trip, she had refused. The idea of the house to herself had been too tempting, but only an hour into that freedom she was thinking of Marley. And unashamedly, Jen felt much fuller when she was there.

"I can't believe I've known you, for like ages, and I've never been in your living room." Marley said, still staring at the television screen.

Jen said, "do you want something to eat? I can make you a bacon sandwich or whatever you like."

Marley turned, a slow, girlish smile at her mouth. "Whatever I like?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you like—that is in the fridge, of course." Jen folded her arms over her chest, figure tall in the doorway to the kitchen.

Marley shrugged. "A bacon sandwich then please."

Jen went off into the kitchen, pushing open a window, flicking on the stove, walking slowly past the living room occasionally just to see Marley sat on the sofa, fully engrossed in a television programme. She was biting her thumbnail, eyes round and shiny. Jen couldn't say but she was actually below average in her cooking skills and only really asked out of politeness but with the frying pan already over the flame, she couldn't really go back on her offer.

Marley, on the other hand, was just overjoyed to be alone in the house with Jen, overjoyed that she'd even been invited over so early. She liked the way Jen's couch smelt, she also like looking at the pictures of Jen with her family or from when she was young. When Jen sat down on the sofa with the food, Marley was curious to know what she was like as a child.

"You were so cute." Marley said pointedly, lifting her sandwich to her mouth. She was motioning to the photograph on the mantelpiece with Jen dressed in a flouncy princess dress, a woman crouched beside her with her arms out, posing for the camera.

"I was a pretty loud kid actually—that's my mom by the way." Jen covered her mouth with her hand as she spoke.

Marley took a second look at the photo, realising the woman did actually look a lot like Jen; slim, dark hair, big grin. "She's very beautiful. She does look like you quite a bit."

Jen nodded slowly, taking another bite of her food instead of replying, silently showing Marley she wanted to switch the subject and Marley happily took the hint. She began to talk about what she was watching; but all the while, stealing looks at Jen's exposed arms.

Since she entered the house, one thing had shamefully been on her mind and that was a lustrous image of Jen. She'd been so agonisingly aware of her own longing to touch Jen, and to feel the parts of Jen that weren't common to the eye. Marley stared and stared; the ivory smoothness of Jen's neck, her forearms and fingers, thin and groomed like they were made to fit the grooves of Marley's body. Her lips were plump and proportionately identical in fullness, their hue a natural, sweet pink like hard candy. Marley felt she'd never been so blinded by her own arousal.