My legs felt heavy as I walked beside Laura on the night streets of Los Angeles, heading home. The warm glow of the terrace and Sergei’s firm hands on my lower back lingered in my mind. They had left a strange imprint on my body, one I couldn’t shake off, no matter how quickly I stepped.
The breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean, mingling with the spicy aromas from street kiosks. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, blending into the city’s endless hum.
Marcus joined us to walk along. His relaxed laughter and Laura’s playful responses filled the air as we reached the stairwell. My breathing was still rapid, my cheeks flushed from the dance—and from that restless feeling bubbling inside me, like an anxiety I didn’t want to admit.
“I’ll stay and chat with Marcus for a bit,” Laura said, flashing me that sly smile I had already recognized. She leaned against the stair railing, her dark brown hair cascading in waves over her shoulders; the neon light reflected off it like stars.
“You’ve got school tomorrow, right?” she added. “Go rest.”
I nodded, grateful for the chance to be alone. “Yeah, I’ll go. Good night.”
The stairs echoed under my steps. With each one, I felt my heart beating faster. When I opened the apartment door, it was dim inside. The streetlight cast faint shadows on the wall through the windows, illuminating the silhouettes of Laura’s plants and the soft outlines of their leaves.
I headed to my room, only now noticing there was no door between my room and Laura’s—just a thin beige curtain that swayed lightly in the draft. I pulled it across, hoping it would give me at least some sense of peace, though I knew it was an illusion.
I tossed my black dress onto the chair; it landed in a messy pile in the corner with my heels. I pulled my favorite short beige silk nightgown from my suitcase. It was soft, gliding against my skin like a second layer; the fabric, cool and smooth, ended at mid-thigh, leaving my long legs bare.
I slipped into bed, pulled the blanket around me, and let my head sink into the pillow. The bed was old and stiff, creaking with every movement—a sharp, high-pitched sound that cut through the silence like a nail on my nerves.
I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep, but the day’s events wouldn’t let me rest. Tommy’s direct gaze, when my wet blouse had revealed my lacy underwear, crept into my thoughts. Sergei’s hands, which had dipped too low, his warmth against my body—these moments intertwined in my mind, sparking a heat that started in my chest and slowly moved downward, until my body began to tense.
“I need to sleep,” I whispered to myself, turning onto my side. The bed creaked in response, as if mocking me.
I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself, but that restlessness inside me—hot and confusing—wouldn’t subside. Guilt crept in as I realized what I truly needed. That thought made my face flush, even though I was alone in the room.
I let my hand slowly glide over my body, first over the silky nightgown, which felt cool and smooth against my skin. My fingers brushed my neck, following its delicate curve, pausing for a moment at my collarbone before moving lower.
I touched the soft curves of my breasts through the fabric, feeling my nipples harden under the touch. My breathing grew heavier. Each inhale brought a slight shiver that ran down my spine.
I listened—had Laura come up the stairs? The apartment was quiet; only the curtain rustled softly in the breeze, creating a faint sound. My hand slid lower, over my stomach; my fingers traced the delicate skin around my navel until they paused between my thighs.
I felt a warmth there, growing quickly. My legs trembled slightly as my fingers slipped beneath the fabric. I started cautiously, touching myself slowly, exploring how my body reacted.
My fingers moved along the insides of my thighs, where the skin was soft and sensitive, before reaching the right spot. The bed creaked lightly, and I froze; my heart pounded, and I heard only my breathing in the silence. It was quiet.
I continued; my fingers slid slowly forward, exploring the warm, wet skin, and my breathing became uneven. The sensation was too good, too unexpected. I knew I needed this to release the pent-up tension.
I moved my hand in circular motions, gradually increasing the pressure. A soft sound escaped my lips, though I tried to hold it back. My hand moved faster, and my body began to move against my will, causing the bed to creak.
I needed this, but I knew it had to end quickly before Laura came. I slid one finger inside—it was too wet. I pushed the blanket aside, pulled the hem of my nightgown higher, and let my legs spread apart, giving myself better access.
I continued moving my hand, speeding up the pace; the bed creaked softly as I surrendered to the sensation. My fingers moved more firmly, touching deeper, and my breathing grew heavy.
I felt my hips lift slightly off the bed, following my movements. The bed creaked louder with each motion. I moaned audibly, trying to stay quiet, but the sound echoed in the room—a soft, high-pitched noise that startled me.
I was close; my body tensed, and the heat inside me grew like a wave ready to spill over. Suddenly, I heard the door open. Panic surged through me.
I quickly pulled my hand away, pulled the blanket over me, and pretended to be asleep; guilt and fear mixed inside me. I breathed quietly, hearing footsteps—Laura wasn’t alone.
Soft voices echoed in the hallway. Laura laughed quietly, as if sharing a secret with Marcus. She whispered something; her voice was light and playful.
Marcus’s low laugh responded, “Shh.”
They moved slowly; their steps were cautious. I heard them pause at the threshold of Laura’s room.
“Shh, she’s asleep,” Laura said; her voice was almost inaudible but amused.
Marcus mumbled something in reply, too quiet for me to make out the words. They stepped into her room.
I heard faint sounds—Laura giggled, as Marcus likely pinched her. A soft thud followed, as if someone had sat on the bed.
“Stop, that tickles!” Laura whispered, laughing quietly.
Marcus replied in a low voice, “You started it.”
Their voices grew softer, more intimate. I held my breath, lying still. They continued for a while; then there was a moment of silence, only the faint rustle of clothes and slow breathing.
Suddenly, I heard a soft kiss—a quiet, wet sound—followed by Laura’s muffled laugh. “You’re crazy,” she said.
Marcus said something I couldn’t hear. My heart pounded loudly; my body was still tense from the interrupted arousal.
The sound of their kissing was arousing. I knew I shouldn’t listen, but I couldn’t resist the curiosity. After a while, I heard a few creaks from their bed, faint but steady.
Were they really… right in the next room, with no door, just a curtain? I listened, trying to silence my breathing. Laura’s breathing grew heavy; suddenly, I heard a soft, muffled moan.
Yes, they were doing it. I was confused, aroused, and didn’t know how to react, but I couldn’t stop listening. Laura’s moans became rhythmic, blending with Marcus’s low breathing.
Their bed creaked steadily. I opened my eyes in the darkness; my breathing quickened.
“This city won’t leave me alone,” I thought; my face burned. Tommy’s gaze at school, Sergei’s touch on the terrace, and now this—wasn’t this day enough?
I wanted to hide under the blanket, but the heat inside me wouldn’t allow it. Guilt battled temptation as my hand slowly slid back.
I listened—Laura’s moans grew clearer; a soft “Ohh” broke the silence. Marcus’s low voice murmured, “Shh, quiet.”
Their bed creaked faster. My fingers moved again, matching their rhythm. My breathing grew heavy; I sighed—a soft, trembling sound—pressing my hand to my mouth to muffle it.
Laura’s sounds intensified. “Ahh,” she moaned, restrained but clear. Their bed’s rhythm quickened.
Marcus’s voice was muffled. “Yes, like that,” he said. My body began to move; my fingers sped up, the bed creaking louder than I wanted.
I sighed again—a deep, trembling sound—biting my hand to stop it, but it slipped through. I paused to listen, worried they might have heard, but the sounds from the next room continued.
Laura’s voice was audible, no longer holding back. It was wildly arousing; I quickened my hand’s movements, struggling to keep my sounds in.
In the next room, they reached their peak. Laura’s final moans were too loud; Marcus’s low groan ended in sudden silence. I stopped, panting; the blanket had completely slipped off.
I listened; the next room was quiet. My body was still restless, nerves on edge.
“I can’t fall asleep like this,” I thought, waiting for silence. I listened—only soft, calm breathing came through the curtain.
I decided to lie still in bed until I was sure they were asleep. Then I let my hand slowly slide back, cautiously, trying to be quiet.
I touched the insides of my thighs, slipped a finger inside again, and started moving carefully. The bed creaked lightly; I froze, hearing only my heartbeat. Silence.
I continued; my fingers explored deeper with slow, circular motions. I felt my body respond—the heat grew; my legs trembled slightly. I sighed quietly—a soft sound—though I tried to hold it back.
The bed creaked again as my hips began to move involuntarily. I paused once more, listening—had they heard? The next room was still silent.
I continued, this time more firmly; my fingers moved faster, touching deeper. My breathing turned into soft moans.
I felt my other hand slide over my breasts, squeezing lightly through the silky fabric. The heat inside me grew rapidly. The bed’s creaking followed my rhythm; I tried to control it, keeping my movements smaller, but my body wouldn’t listen.
I moaned—a deep, high sound echoing across the room. I pressed my other hand to my mouth in alarm, but a few moans still slipped through.
Panic crept in. “They might hear,” I thought. I stopped again, listening, but I knew I couldn’t stop now.
I continued; my fingers sped up, touching deeper. My hips lifted off the bed, following a rhythm I couldn’t halt. The bed creaked louder, sharper with each movement.
I moaned—a soft, trembling sound—biting my hand to muffle it, but it escaped. “I have to finish this,” I thought; the realization that someone was so close pushed me to the edge of control.
My body took over; my fingers moved faster, and the heat inside me surged explosively. The bed’s creaking became wild, louder with each movement; I couldn’t silence it anymore.
I moaned—a deep, high “Ahh!”—and my hand couldn’t muffle it. My hips lifted off the bed; my body tensed. The next moan was louder, trembling, uncontrollable—“Ohh!”—echoing in the room, mixing with the bed’s final creaks.
The heat exploded inside me; my legs and entire body trembled. I lay there, panting, the blanket completely off.
Shame flooded over me. “What did I just do?” I thought, my heart pounding. “That was too loud—did they hear?”
I tried to calm myself, still in a haze of confusion mixed with satisfaction. I needed this, I thought, to release the tension before tomorrow’s school day.
I listened—the next room was silent; only calm breathing was audible. I blushed, feeling exposed, though I hoped they hadn’t heard.
My body slowly calmed; my breathing steadied. I drifted to the edge of sleep, thinking of tomorrow’s school day—Tommy’s gazes, the classroom, and whether Los Angeles would ever give me peace.
