A World Without Guys — Part 1

The first thing you figure out at St. Agnes' isn't from a book. By the time the monsoon season ends, it's sunk into your bones: we live in a world without guys.

It wasn't just that there were no boys in class or that the high, mossy walls kept townies out. It was in the air - a heavy, sweet smell of too much girl. The smell of coconut hair oil, powder, and strong perfume we swiped. It was the sound of a hundred girls, a mix of laughs, gossip, and secrets that bounced off the old stone halls. It was like a greenhouse, and we were all weird, hot flowers tangled together, since there was nothing else to touch.

The missing thing was always there, a low buzzing. A problem we couldn't fix. So, we made our own fixes. We crushed on each other, competed with each other, and became obsessed with each other. Teasing was how we talked. A hand sliding down a waist in the lunch line, a smack on the butt when playing basketball, bra straps snapped, and whispers about who had the best 'rack' in the senior class. It was all a joke, for sure. Always a joke. A safe, allowed way to touch, to feel someone else, to remember we had bodies under these stiff, blue uniforms.

My best friend, Anya, was good at this.

She was all sharp and soft. Black hair that always fell out of its braid in curls. Warm, chocolate eyes that saw right through my lies. Her laugh started deep, a dirty sound that made my stomach flip. We went together, two parts of one restless person. I watched and smoldered, but she was loud and wild.

We teased each other every day. It was a dance.

It was a Tuesday. I remember because history class felt hot, with Mrs. D'Souza talking about old stuff on the board. The fan moved the heavy air around. Anya and I shared a desk in the back, hidden by a pillar and a big, dusty map.

I tried to listen about drains, but Anya was moving around. Her knee bounced under the desk. Then she traced patterns on my elbow.

I shivered. "Stop," I said, but didn't mean it.

She smiled. "Why? Can't focus, Riya?" She whispered, just to me. "Thinking about something better than old drains?"

She got closer, her leg touching mine through our skirts. It felt electric. I shook all over. This was normal, but today felt different. Hotter. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the way she looked at me, staring at my lips a little too long.

"You suck," I said, and my voice sounded weird.

"You love it," she whispered back.

She teased me more. Her hand slid down my arm to my waist, her fingers on my hip. I felt the heat through my shirt. My heart beat fast. Mrs. D'Souza faded away. All I knew was Anya. Her soap smelled. Her skirt touching mine. Her hand.

Then, she did it.

It was a joke, at first. Something we did. She moved her hand from my hip, sliding it down my skirt, to my inner thigh. A fake grope, our kind of funny. We'd done it a lot, and then laughed.

But this time, she didn't stop.

Her hand was hot and sure. It cupped me. Right there. Over my underwear, under my skirt.

Everything stopped.

The chalk, the fan, the pages - it all went away. I felt it all over. Lightning went through me. I moved a little, and made a sound.

"Aah…"

It was quiet. More like air coming out.

I was frozen. I should have pushed her. Laughed it off. Called her a name. But I didn't. I couldn't. My body felt weird. I felt hot deep inside, a wet warmth between my legs. I was wet. And my underwear didn't hide it.

Anya stopped moving. Her smile went away. Her eyes got big. She felt it. Of course, she felt it. The wet heat, different from the classroom air.

We looked at each other.

Her eyes were big, asking, and dark. She understood. She was shocked. I saw the joke end and something start. I saw her swallow. The class, the other girls, Mrs. D'Souza - they were gone. Only us.

She didn't talk.

And she didn't move her hand.

That was crazy. Her hand stayed there, touching me. Then, she moved a little.

Not a lot. Just turned her wrist. Her palm pressed down, right on me, and her fingers touched me through the wet cotton.

Oh god.

I shook. I bit my lip. My eyes closed. Too much. Not enough.

I thought: She knows. She knows what she's doing. She can feel how much I want this. Oh god, don't stop. Please, don't stop. What are we doing? We're in class. Someone will see. I don't care. I don't care.

I felt my heart beat against her hand. I was so wet now. I was burning up. I felt everything she did.

I looked at her. She looked hard. Her lips were open a little, her breath faster. She looked at the board, but wasn't seeing it. She was feeling. She was listening to my body.

Her hand moved again, more. A slow circle.

Yes…

I thought it, not speaking. My hips moved, wanting more.

She got it. She smiled a little. Her fingers pressed, moving around, a secret code. The world was just this. The map was blurry. Mrs. D'Souza was far away. The only sounds were my heart, our breathing, and her hand.

I was gone. Pleasure was building up, both good and bad. I held the desk hard. My legs shook, wanting to close, and wanting to let her in.

"Anya," I said, her name a prayer.

She looked at me. Her eyes were dark, hungry like mine. We said a lot without talking. We made secrets.

And her hand kept moving under my skirt, in class, while the world went on.

The world just got super small, like, fit-in-my-hand small.

Everything else? Mrs. D'Souza's boring voice, the chalky air, the fan going thwump-thwump-thwump?

Just whatever, background noise, like a blurry movie playing way far away. The only thing that was real, like, super real, was Anya's hand, warm through my underwear, making slow circles with her fingers.

My heart was going crazy, like a bird trying to get out of a cage. I was sure everyone could hear it. My ears were ringing, like the blood was so loud I couldn't think. I was breathing all weird, trying to hide it by fake coughing.

Oh man. Oh man, she won't stop.

I whispered her name, like praying for… something? I don't know, mercy or like, more? It all felt the same. All I felt was this building heat, a coil of pure feeling getting tighter and tighter inside me. My legs were shaking, like buzzing nonstop. I squeezed them together to stop it, but that just made it feel even better, another shock of good-bad feeling.

I made a little noise. "Aah… mmph." I bit my lip, hard, tasting blood, which kind of made me wake up.

Anya looked at me. Her eyes weren't surprised anymore, just dark and intense. She was staring, like she was trying to figure me out, watching everything I did. Her lips were open a little, breathing with me. She wasn't just doing stuff to me; she was feeling it too. That was even better than the touching.

Her fingers changed what they were doing. The circles were now more like finding a spot. She wasn't just rubbing the fabric anymore; she was searching. Through my underwear, she found where it was all swollen and hurting, and pressed down.

My eyes went back. I couldn't help it. I shook all over, and my hand slipped off the desk, and my book fell down.

It was so freaking loud.

Everyone looked. Some girls up front turned around, looking nosy and bored.

Everything stopped.

Anya's hand froze, but didn't move away. It stayed there, hidden under the desk and my skirt, like a burning mark. Her warmth felt like she owned me.

My face got so hot. I could feel it going up my neck and into my cheeks. I put my head down, hiding behind my hair, and picked up the book, trying to hide how fast my heart was going.

"You okay back there, Riya?" Mrs. D'Souza asked.

"Y-yeah," I said, my voice all weird. "Sorry. My book… fell."

I stood up and put the book back on the desk, shaking. I didn't want to look at Anya. It was like a spell broke. The real world came crashing back in, with all the bad stuff that could happen. I felt ashamed, like pins and needles all over. What were we even thinking? We were in class. We could have gotten caught. We should have gotten caught.

I thought Anya would move her hand away. Make a joke, make what just happened not seem so scary. Make it okay again.

But she didn't.

Instead, her fingers did it again. Not the slow circles. This was different. This was doing it on purpose.

She pressed her hand hard against me, and began to move her fingers, fast but quiet. It was like she had made up her mind, and I couldn't breathe. She wasn't going to stop. If anything, almost getting caught had made her worse.

She's going to make me come. Now.

It was crazy, but also so good, that I got even wetter, making it easier for her. My shame went away, burned up by wanting it so much I felt like an animal. I was stuck in my chair, getting played with in a room full of people who didn't know.

I let my head fall, my hair hiding us. I closed my eyes and gave up. I couldn't fight it. It was so tight I thought I would scream. My hips started moving by themselves, going with her hand, chasing the feeling. The good feeling was building up, sucking everything in before it finally let go.

I was making noises when I breathed out. "Ah… ah… oh…"

Anya was breathing heavy next to me. I could feel her heat. She leaned in, her head against my hair, and whispered in my ear.

"Come for me, Riya." Her voice sounded rough and real. "I can feel you. You're close. Just let go."

That did it.

It broke over me.

Everything went white. I couldn't scream. My back went up, my body stiff, every muscle tight. The good feeling was like electricity, going all through me, turning everything on. It kept going, wave after wave, until I couldn't breathe and was shaking all over, my head all messed up.

I fell forward, my head hitting the desk. I was all weak.

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Part 2 coming soon..!! Buy the lesbian series here