She plumped herself down beside him on the sofa, and handed him another beer to replace the empty in his hand.

"Oh, thanks. How did you know I...?"

"It's a ploy."

"Oh?"

"To get you talking to me."

"Yeah. Aren't you Zoe's flatmate?"

"Well, I was here first, but yep."

"I'm Oliver."

"Yeah, I know. Oh, sorry. George. Well, Georgia... but George, please."

"Oh, yeah, that's it. So..."

"Oh, yeah. Ploy to get you talking. Listen, I have a proposition."

"You do?"

"I do. But first... are you... with anyone, Oliver?"

"This minute?"

"This week."

"Nuh-uh. And it's usually Ollie, really."

"Okay. You gay?"

"What?"

"Well?"

"How many beers have you actually had, Miss Georgia?"

"Is that a firm no?"

"Yes."

"Wait on. Wait on. Yes, you're gay, or yes, no?"

"I'm not gay. Well, except this one time..."

"What?"

"Just kidding."

"Okay then."

"And anyway..."

"Yes?"

"... he promised not to tell."

"You're joking. Right, Ollie?"

"Aren't you, George?"

"No. Really. I'm not."

"Okay, well, in that case... I'm still not gay. That's not to say I'll never give it a go, but I'm really quite fond of girls."

"Perfect. Free-thinking, liberal, but not an active homosexual."

"That sounds like my resume."

"Okay then, so..."

"Oh, oh."

"No, wait until you hear. I'd like to make you an offer, but I'm not even considering telling you the details here."

"Intriguing."

"Yeah. So are you willing to put down the beer, and walk up the stairs with me?"

"To go where?"

"My room."

"Oh." He grinned, and lifted his eyebrows. "I'd put down more than one beer."

"Yeah, but... there's a catch. I need to tell you that up there."

"Am I going to be dismembered, and my body parts scattered over the lawn?"

"Well, not right away."

"You have interrogation lights, and electric shock equipment?"

"Yes, but I left that stuff at the office. Oliver, no one would ask you to attend a torture session."

"Sounds good then."

"Yes?"

"Fuck yes, George!"

"Yeah, see, that's the thing..."

...

They both sat at the end of the bed, feet on the floor, each with a beer in hand, and Ollie turned to face George.

"Okay, nice room. A bit girlie, but no sign of torture tools. What gives?"

"Yeah. Gime the beer."

"Hey!"

"I'll just put it down on the dresser for a minute. Lie back. Close your eyes."

"I've seen horror movies that start like this."

"Shut up." Georgia lay back as well, the two of them side by side, but not touching. "I'm trying to figure how exactly to say this. Do you like to masturbate, Ollie?"

"Oh, come on, where's the camera?"

"No, really."

"You are the oddest girl, you know. And I say that with some affection."

"Some?"

"Well, we just met."

"Okay. Answer the question."

"Do I have rights to deny the answer later?"

"Not to me, no."

"But otherwise?"

"Sure. I wasn't planning on telling anyone. And was hoping you won't."

"I have nothing to tell."

"No. Not yet."

"Okay, I'm hooked. You have a deal."

"Good. Well?"

"Is the Pope a Catholic? Do bears shit in the woods? Of course I like to masturbate!"

"Good. Me, too. Okay, so here's the thing..."

Oliver lifted his head from the bed, and bent over so she could see his face. "You can tell me. All jokes aside. Okay?"

"Thanks. I want you to masturbate for me."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Wow."

"Yeah. And..."

"There's an and after that?"

"Yeah. I'll just say it, okay? I want you to masturbate for me, and I'd like to return the favour."

"You... oh! You mean afterwards?"

"At the same time, I hope."

"When?"

"Oh, about now. Before this beer wears off."

"Where?"

"Right here, just where you are."

"Like... side by side?"

"Mmhmmm... Listen, if this is perverted or anything, just say no."

"I'm not saying no. But can you tell me why?"

"Oh! I didn't think anyone would ask."

"I'm asking, George."

"Yeah... It's complicated, but I'm... I'm not good at beginnings. I'm not good at the first time. I'm... actually I'm not sure I can explain, so just... Fuck, here, take your beer. You know the way back downstairs."

"Whoa, whoa, I didn't say no. I just asked."

"Sorry. A little nervous, maybe a little tipsy."

"Relax, okay?"

"Not much chance of that, but thanks."

"Yes."

"Huh?"

"I'm saying yes. How do you want this to work?"

"Oh! Well... I have this... specific image... in my head."

"So, direct me."

"Wow. Okay, kick off your shoes, drop your jeans."

"Uh huh."

"Oh. Wow again. And, um... nice boxers. Drop those too?"

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Fuck yeah. Oh. Okay, you know what? I just realised, but until now I didn't think you were interested... but that looks interested. Nice barometer you have." His barometer was jutting out from a nest of dark pubes, what looked like rather heavy balls hanging down below. He wasn't circumcised, and he wasn't small. He was hard, and twitchy.

"Of course I'm interested... and you are getting more interesting all the time. Now what? Shirt?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, just leave that, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Boss."

"Umm... me now. This part is tougher."

"Want me to shut my eyes?"

"No. I want me to woman up!"

"There's no rush. My barometer's working fine. Just take your time."

George was excited, embarrassed, and a little bit angry with herself, but somehow managed to focus that, and kicked her sneakers across the room after pushing them off with her feet. Then she lifted her bum from the bed slightly, and pulled her sundress up, uncovering white knickers. Oliver noticed a quite obvious wet spot.

"George, your barometer's working too!"

"I... Oh!" She covered her knickers with her hands momentarily, and then forced herself to relax them. "Sorry, sorry."

"Hey, no need. Nervous but turned on, right? I get it."

"Thanks." She exhaled then, pushing breath out of pursed lips before pressing her feet to the mattress, lifting her bum again, and sliding her knickers down off her hips to reveal mousy brown pubes, the same colour as the hair on her head, but glistening a little with the moisture from her undeniable arousal. There was a smell too. Not at all unpleasant from Ollie's perspective, but he thought better of mentioning it when he spoke.

"You know-and I'm not just saying this because of your missing knickers-but you're very pretty."

"Thank you. Hmm... we need to swap sides."

"What?"

"Well, you're right handed, yes?"

"Yep."

"I'm a leftie... and this is going to be more comfortable." George stood, careless all of sudden, focused on directing her thoughts. Her dress slid down her legs again, large peach-tinted florals that really suited her skin. "Shove over." She motioned at him to move, and then lay down again on his other side, this time hauling up the peaches without a thought. "Okay, now just turn over a little to face me. Not sideways. Just-Oh, God, this sounds awful-just so I can see."

"I will if you will."

"I... fuck, okay."

"Well, nice view."

"Shush."

"Now what?"

"Just... you know."

"No idea. You'll have to tell me." His grin was ruthless.

George sighed, but grinned herself. "Stroke that lovely cock, would you?"

"Ladies first."

She hesitated a moment, then pulled her dress up a little more, and slid her left hand, now on the upper side, down over her sparse brown pubes, and slid a finger almost frictionlessly inside herself. "Is that..." and she paused a moment to inhale, "... better?"

"Yeah. Fuck, yeah. You have the best ideas." And he wrapped his hand around his cock, and started to slowly stroke it.

For a little while, they were quiet.

Fingers moved, maybe to the heavy beat of the music downstairs, and they each had their eyes locked on each other's movements, stroking and squeezing. George lifted her leg without Oliver asking, and he could see intimately what she was doing. He carelessly stopped stroking now and then, and took his balls in his hand for a squeeze, and George could see the liquid forming at the tip of his cock.

They were both surprised when Ollie spoke, his voice low and slow. "George... I need to roll on my back, or I'm going to make a mess on your..."

"Don't you fucking dare stop, and you stay right where you are. It's... oh, God... it's just laundry."

"You're sure?"

"Fuck, yeah!"

"Okay. Good. I like the view."

"Ditto. Ollie?"

"Uh huh?"

"Will you... will you come for me?"

"Now?"

"Oh yeah."

He looked up at her then, to find her grinning at him, neither actually looking at the other view any more. And then, more or less by chance, they made eye contact. And what had already been very nice became something altogether different.

Oliver arched his back, and with his eyes still locked with George, he came, groaning deep in his throat as ropes of come arched across the bed, the first pulse landing just on her hip.

George wasn't far behind, with her fantasy playing out even better than she imagined, and as she saw him explode, from the corner of her eye, she came herself, muscles clamping on wet fingers, thighs pulling against each other, hips arching in the air, and a muttering of obscenities from her mouth.

They never lost eye contact, lying there, untouching aside from Ollie's spend, bodies twitching as they calmed down. Eventually George broke eye contact, and spoke. "Fuck. Well, fuck! Jesus, that was..."

"It was."

"You'll... Listen, would you stay?"

"Huh?"

"The night. Please stay the night?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Oh, but... still not..."

"Got it. No fucking. I'm amazingly relaxed about that just now."

"Yeah. You sure?"

"Yeah."

And she grinned broadly. "Good. Very good. But listen, I gotta pee. I'll be back, I promise."

"It's okay, I trust you to come back. And it's your room."

"Oh, right. Brain not work." She jumped up, and let her dress fall down and cover her hips. "Be right back. Oh, throw the blanket on the floor. The sheet will be enough, right?"

"If you stay close."

She leaned back over him as he lay there, his cock drooping now. "You can bet on it. Just lemme go pee!"

She ran out the door, but reappeared a moment later. "Um... lose the shirt, would you, and I promise to leave the dress on the floor. And I plan to kiss the back of your neck."

"Oh, okay."

"A lot."