It had been a difficult week for Annie.
Things had started off well enough. Monday morning Michele had been a little distant, but not unfriendly. She had gotten back to the room late that night, but again, she'd been... cordial?
Annie had gone to sleep anxious, worried that she had crossed a line the night before. Tuesday had been more of the same. While the mood in the room that morning had been cool at best. Annie had run into Michele and Nancy at dinner and they had all sat together with a couple boys from the Film Club - which was nice. Michele seemed to be in good spirits, which was also nice, but Annie couldn't help but feel she was talking to everyone else but her.
Towards the end of the meal Michele had excused herself to go the library, only coming back to the room after Annie had gone to bed and turned off the lights. Listening to her undress and settle into bed Annie heard the quiet sounds of her efforts and was struck by how often she sighed, huffed with impatience, and swore under her breath.
She'd sounded angry; or maybe frustrated.
But it was Wednesday when things had gone off the rails. Michele had set her alarm very early and was out the door before Annie was even out of bed. She had seen her once that day, but just from the other side of the quad. She couldn't tell if Michele had seen her or not. Either way, she hadn't acknowledged Annie.
Annie dropped her things of before dinner and could tell that Michele had been there before her. Her bag was there with her books, a pile of clothes on the floor and her running shoes were gone. Annie found herself looking at the pile of clothes. Michele's jeans were collapsed on the floor, just where she'd stepped out of them. Nesting inside them were a pair of white panties.
Annie had dropped onto her haunches and looked on as her hand reached down for them; as her thumb and forefinger fondled the soiled gusset. Squatting over the open jeans she pictured Michele standing over her, the statuesque brunette with her feet spread and ass raised. She'd pictured her smooth tan skin, her bulging muscles taught and flexing. Annie pinched hard at the dried stain, grinding her thumb into it, before raising it to her mouth.
...
Stopping at the the Student Center for a coffee and a cheese croissant from the cafe, she'd skipped dinner, and any socializing it might require. Holing up in a secluded spot on the top floor of the library she'd studied until closing time.
Their room was dark and empty when she got back. Michele's clothes still heaped on the floor. Her panties back in the jeans, just where Annie had left them. Annie organized her papers and got herself sorted for bed, finally turning off the lights well past eleven; surprised Michele wasn't back.
It was past one when Annie woke up, hearing Michele's key fumbling at the lock. The light from the hall briefly flooded the room, blinding Annie, then darkness. There was a bang and a scrape as Michele barked her shin on the end of her bed and swore sharply.
Standing between their beds Michele kicked off her shoes, and tugged at her socks. She was unsteady and caught herself on the edge of her bed before righting herself and shrugging off her windbreaker. Watching her with hooded eyes, Annie realized she must be drunk.
Michele seemed to be looking directly into Annie's eyes as she began to push down at her waistband.
She stepped out of the tangle of track pants at her feet, grabbed the hem of her tank top and struggled to pull it and her sports bra over her head.
Freeing herself, she dropped the tops and stood for a moment above Annie, totally naked in the dark, swaying slightly. Annie had held very still, unsure of what to do. She had wanted to reach out, to touch her, but Michele had stepped away before she could overcome her own reluctance. She watched as the stronger girl sat down heavily on her bed, admired he long calves. Michele was as tall, if not taller, than most of the boys on campus. Still staring at Annie she slowly lowered herself back, laying naked on her covers.
At first Annie thought that maybe she'd passed out, but after a while she could see that Michele's arm was moving; that she was stroking herself. She watched as Michele movements slowly built, becoming more insistent, listened as her breath grew raspy; waited for her orgasm. Michele began to shake and jerk, and Annie thought the moment had come, but the shaking continued, the jerking was rhythmic. With a start Annie realized Michele was sobbing.
Sliding from beneath her covers, Annie crossed to the other bed, Michele was on her back, her hands still frantically working at her crotch. But rather than pleasure, her face was a rictus of grief, tears streaming from her eyes which were clenched closed.
Annie place her knee on the mattress and stepped over Michele, so she was straddling her waist. She lowered herself onto her elbows placing her hands against Michele's feverish head. She place her cheek against Michele's, feeling the hot tears. The other girl moaned loudly- smelling of whiskey - but again, not with pleasure, in frustration or anger. She sounded trapped.
"It's okay," Annie's whispered into her ear.