The walls of Aletta Jacobshal are nauseating me. The orange colors are making my eyes spin and are turning my stomach upside down. Almost as if the nerves for an exam, that I obviously did not study for, are not enough. Out of habit and necessity I grasp my phone. I crack my neck. Bite my lip. Everything in my body is protesting what will happen in the following hours. I can almost taste the tension of the desperate students around me.
Zoned out I open Tinder. A last escape before I need to write answers I do not know. Aloof fingers swipe the boys and girls left. There is nothing here that can distract me. Nothing that makes the upcoming dread anymore bearable. Nothing that can ease a nervous, wrecked mind. Nothing that -.
She is gorgeous.
My eyes scan the ginger girl with a face laced with freckles. The dark eyeliner hints to a hidden kink. Her green eyes lure me in. Her pictures portray a mystery that I want to unravel. I swipe right. A dire half of a second passes until the ‘it’s a match!’ screen pops up. Maybe there is hope to be found inside an orange prison. And it happened right before I needed to go in and take the exam.
Naturally, everything sucks. The questions look like algebra, which would not have been a problem if I actually did study math – I do not. My body is feeling tighter. Anxiety is building up. I need relief. And I need it now.
I find my escape in the restroom. Not because I need to go, but because I need a break. I need to get rid of all the restlessness shaking my bones. As I splash water in my face, I can hear the door opening. I look up and see her: my ginger girl.
She laughs at my not so suppressed reaction. Her smile turns her into a grinning fox. The reality is even better than the pictures. Suddenly I realize what I need to release all the tension in my body. I need her in a toilet stall – now. With quivering knees, fingers grasped in my hair and moaning my name.
I glance at her as cold water from the sink cools down my heated body. She glances back. Her black leather jacket makes her skin pale. Her lips are a velvety red. She reminds me of the apple that sent Eve to damnation. Everything about her begs me to take a bite.
“Haven’t I seen you on Tinder?” Her voice is husky, sending a quiver down my spine. I nod and answer with a smile; “I matched you just before my exam.” Is that a blush I see? Encouraged I step closer. I curl a lock of her autumn-colored hair around my finger. “You are truly gorgeous.” Our eyes meet. My breath becomes shaky. Heartbeats pass as we take each other in. I can feel the electricity between our bodies.
Do I dare?
Softly I tug her hair, pulling her closer to me. She kisses me before I can kiss her. I can taste her fire. Her teeth teasing my lower lip as she pushes me up against the sink. The hidden kink within her pictures is showing clearly now.
I kiss her back. Try to gain control. But she grabs my hands and puts them above my head against the mirror. “Let me,” she growls into my lips. And I let her as she releases my wrists in order to push my tight leggings down.
My forbidden apple makes me moan as her finger swirls around my clit. My thighs stiffen as she makes me feel much needed pleasures. Her fake nails softly scratch against my skin as her fingers slide down and inside. My knees are quivering. My fingers are grasped in her hair. And I beggingly moan her name. It does not take long before stars fill my gaze.
She laughs quietly as she looks at me. I am panting, trying to fill my lungs with air again. The dread of the exam hall seems a lot more bearable now. Consider my nervous, wrecked mind eased.
“Thank you for that,” I say as I try to compose myself again. The fox-like grin is back on her face. She leans in to swipe the smeared lipstick away from my lips. “Next time it’s your turn,” she answers before she steps back and fixes her own lipstick. When she is done, she nods at me and disappears into the orange.
As I stand up from the sink and try to process what just happened a heavy realization sinks in; there is still an exam to be written…