Note: written for this prompt at the parksandreckink meme. Not requested element: masturbation.
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Blind dates, Ann has discovered, are a pretty shitty way to spend the little time she has off work. Leslie is good at, well, just about everything, but setting Ann up on dates is not in her skill set. More often than not, she ends the evening disappointed, a little tipsy, and wet (something she blames on the situation rather than the company). Tonight’s was, shockingly, just as much of a dud as the rest, and Ann flicks the lock on her front door behind her, ready to give in to a frustrating evening alone in front of Grey’s Anatomy or whatever she has stored up on the DVR.
She sighs, stopping in the kitchen to grab a beer (inexplicably next to three cans of Redi-Whip) and abandon her heels. The guy, Kevin (she thinks, she’s already starting to forget him) didn’t even offer to pay the bill. Not even his share.
(Hell, the evening would have been better spent with Leslie at JJ’s. At the very least, Ann wouldn’t be out an extra twenty dollars. And Leslie very rarely makes Ann want to stab herself with a fork.)
But, she thinks, leaning against the kitchen counter, he was really hot. And, okay, she thinks, fuck Grey’s Anatomy because this night doesn’t have to totally suck (not that Grey’s sucks, though it does tend to make her feel mopey, and that’s one thing she doesn’t need.
Determined now, Ann takes a long swig from the beer and passes it from hand to hand as she slips out of her jacket and letting it fall to the hall floor. She turns on the bath fawcet, adjusting the temperature and letting it run until she finishes undressing, and, as a last minute addition to this hastily-put-together plan, grabs her vibrator.
As the water starts with a rush around her head and shoulders, Ann downs the rest of the beer, already feeling the muscles in her neck start to relax by degrees.
Now, to accomplish what she set out to.
Ann’s well acquainted with her vibrator. She’s had it since before Andy (God, hard to believe there was a time before Andy) and knows that setting two is perfect for a build up, but if she wants to get off, its four all the way (though if she’s lucky she’ll forget how to count by that time). And it’s not that time alone in the shower or in bed is particularly better or worse than the real thing. It’s fun, most of the time (when it isn’t a necessity), to simply take care of herself, to think about whatever she wants, to not worry about who’s going to be disappointed the next morning.
And it’s not that she’s had particularly good or bad lovers (Andy was enthusiastic to a fault, confused and sad if Ann didn’t come; Chris athletic in his approach to love making, eager to enjoy the moment to the utmost, encouraging an almost tantric daily life; Mark more of a typical dude, in, out, and sprawled out asleep. She’s had one night stands that made her skin tingle for days, and month-long flings that exhausted her in the worst way. The months after Chris have been the worst, her body accustomed to getting off regularly, the supply cutting off just when demand hit it’s peak.) but more that she knows how to please herself without all of the fuss, without having to pay for some losers dinner and stare at his stupid face while he drones on about wind surfing. A quick twist of her wrist instead of panting out instructions and trying not to lose focus completely.
The water’s hit a good temperature, and Ann stretches gently, turning her head, rolling her shoulders. She slides a hand idly down her body, stopping to cup her breast and squeeze, just slightly.
She’s already wet. Maybe it’s her body responding to the mixture of alcohol in her body and heat rising around her. Maybe she spent an inappropriate amount of time watching Kevin’s fingers as he tore rolls in half, generously offering her the crust. And her fingers don’t feel a think like she imagined his might, she’s far too slender and dexterous, moving her middle finger over her clit with a sigh.
Before the tile has a chance to warm, Ann leans against the back wall of the shower, gasping at the cold, and flicks the vibrator on at the entrance to her vagina. “Yes, there,” she murmurs, shivers still thrilling down her spine, her face now catching the bulk of the spray from the shower head.
Ann enters herself with the buzzing apparatus slowly, slowly, reveling in the change in sensation between full and achingly empty. She continues, increasing pressure and speed, her other hand making the rounds from mouth to tit to clit and back again, her movements rougher with every thrust, with every gasp, with every noise of pleasure not-quite drowned out by the noise of the water.
She imagines fingers. Strong fingers, sure fingers. A mouth and a talented tongue. Wide, blue eyes staring up at her, watching.
There — she’s there, and the evening leading up to this is hardly more than a distant memory, and the water turns ever colder. Ann breathes into her orgasm, every muscle in her body tightening towards release. Her breath comes out in gasps, forming into the echoes of words (“Yes” and “please” and “yes, please”) as Ann’s body arches off the tile, her mouth coming to land (just as the light dances behind her eyes) on two distinct syllables.
“Leslie,” Ann rasps, her body crashing through orgasm. She leans back against the tile, aware of her quivering thighs and the name she just cried. The water is freezing now, but Ann quickly washes herself off once she has her breath again, hearing her own voice echo in her head: “Leslie.”
Leslie. And suddenly, with the exhalation of her name, a thousand thoughts come crawling back from the corners of Ann’s mind. The feeling of Leslie’s hand on her cheek, of their fingers tangled together, of Leslie’s laugh, the way Ann’s heart beats when Leslie calls her beautiful. When she gets a text, when they meet for lunch, when a stranger assumes they’re together. She’d been willing to write it off, all of it.
And now Leslie is with Ben, and happier than Ann’s ever seen her with someone else.
Spent and confused, Ann returns the vibrator to the box by her bed and wonders how she didn’t realize sooner. Wonders, then, what she can do about it.
