Cold Food, Warm Champagne ; don't trust the bitch in apartment 23 ; june/chloe ; rated pg13 because of implied sex
It's their first anniversary. It's their first anniversary, and June cooked this whole big dinner, and got James to help her move everything out of their living room so that they could have a picnic without actually having to leave the apartment (it makes sex so much easier). Flickering vanilla-scented candles (Chloe had laughed for ages because of course June's favorite scent is vanilla) line the room (but, of course, June had had the last laugh because as it turns out, vanilla candles mixed with June's natural scent are quite the aphrodisiac for Chloe), and June has mood music playing in the background, and she is wearing her sexy (but highly uncomfortable) lingerie, and Chloe is late.
June huffs and collapses on the soft rug covering the hardwood floor of their living room. She really should have anticipated this, but for some reason she'd really thought that Chloe would be on time for this. Maybe she'd been too naive, believing Chloe when she'd promised to be absolutely, positively on time, no exceptions. She glances at their digital clock, which reads 8:03pm. Chloe is officially an hour and three minutes late.
Just as she's about to say screw it, and change into more comfortable clothes, the door slams open, making her jump. She puts her hand on her chest, feels her heart race under her palm. She stares at a panting Chloe, who is clutching what looks like a hot pink champagne bottle. June is about to berate Chloe for her lateness when she notices that Chloe's eyes are closed and she's leaning against the door. She looks exhausted. Her anger fades away and she rushes to Chloe, concerned.
Chloe opens her eyes when June is no more than a foot away from her, her face already schooled into an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry I'm late..." she starts, but doesn't get much farther than that when she registers what June's wearing. Or rather, what's June's not wearing. "Oh wow," she whispers to June's boobs, which are are barely covered and have been pushed and conformed to somehow be even perkier than usual. Her mouth stretches into a positively filthy leer of its own volition when she finally manages to pry her eyes from her girlfriend's boobs, and sees the vast expanse of creamy, flawless leg on display. June rolls her eyes, forcing herself not to blush under Chloe's scrutiny. The leer wipes the concern from her mind, and simultaneously fires up her temper and her libido. She chooses to ignore the latter for the moment.
She smacks Chloe on the shoulder. "Where have you been?! You're over an hour late, and you promised you'd be on time."
Chloe has the grace to at least try to school her face back into an apologetic expression. "I know, and I'm sorry, but getting pink champagne took way longer than I thought it would." She holds up the pink bottle, as if to emphasize her point.
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It's their first anniversary. It's their first anniversary, and June cooked this whole big dinner, and got James to help her move everything out of their living room so that they could have a picnic without actually having to leave the apartment (it makes sex so much easier). Flickering vanilla-scented candles (Chloe had laughed for ages because of course June's favorite scent is vanilla) line the room (but, of course, June had had the last laugh because as it turns out, vanilla candles mixed with June's natural scent are quite the aphrodisiac for Chloe), and June has mood music playing in the background, and she is wearing her sexy (but highly uncomfortable) lingerie, and Chloe is late.
June huffs and collapses on the soft rug covering the hardwood floor of their living room. She really should have anticipated this, but for some reason she'd really thought that Chloe would be on time for this. Maybe she'd been too naive, believing Chloe when she'd promised to be absolutely, positively on time, no exceptions. She glances at their digital clock, which reads 8:03pm. Chloe is officially an hour and three minutes late.
Just as she's about to say screw it, and change into more comfortable clothes, the door slams open, making her jump. She puts her hand on her chest, feels her heart race under her palm. She stares at a panting Chloe, who is clutching what looks like a hot pink champagne bottle. June is about to berate Chloe for her lateness when she notices that Chloe's eyes are closed and she's leaning against the door. She looks exhausted. Her anger fades away and she rushes to Chloe, concerned.
Chloe opens her eyes when June is no more than a foot away from her, her face already schooled into an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry I'm late..." she starts, but doesn't get much farther than that when she registers what June's wearing. Or rather, what's June's not wearing. "Oh wow," she whispers to June's boobs, which are are barely covered and have been pushed and conformed to somehow be even perkier than usual. Her mouth stretches into a positively filthy leer of its own volition when she finally manages to pry her eyes from her girlfriend's boobs, and sees the vast expanse of creamy, flawless leg on display. June rolls her eyes, forcing herself not to blush under Chloe's scrutiny. The leer wipes the concern from her mind, and simultaneously fires up her temper and her libido. She chooses to ignore the latter for the moment.
She smacks Chloe on the shoulder. "Where have you been?! You're over an hour late, and you promised you'd be on time."
Chloe has the grace to at least try to school her face back into an apologetic expression. "I know, and I'm sorry, but getting pink champagne took way longer than I thought it would." She holds up the pink bottle, as if to emphasize her point.