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Summer Swells by Ian Snow

Summer Swells by Ian Snow

Author:Ian Snow [Snow, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-19T04:00:00+00:00


Fiona

Contains: MF, MFF, FF, anal, very, very tame bondage/exhibitionism.

Fiona walked with Tiffani around to the driver’s side of her Eos. The convertible had been the source of plenty of adventures for the both of them. While it wouldn’t be as heartbreaking as Tiffani leaving, Fiona would miss the car too. She thought back to a night when they took it out to the middle of nowhere, just the two of them, the top down, the seats back. They talked for hours under the night sky.

Tiffani slipped in, and Fiona shut the door on her, hoping her roommate – former roommate, she supposed, though she’d always think of Tiffani that way – didn’t see her hand tremble. The top came down, and Fiona grinned. “There’s my girl. Get you some sun on the way to Grosbeak.”

“I’m going to look like a lobster in ten minutes.”

No, you won’t. You’ll still be one of the most stunningly attractive women in the world, and it kills me that I won’t ever get to tell you that and have you know I mean it. “Sexiest damn lobster I’ve ever met.”

Tiffani shook her head and started the car. Her hand reached out one last time, and Fiona took it. Fiona finally lost it, and she could hide the tremble no longer. Tears rolled down her face, and she almost did it, almost said the one thing she knew she couldn’t. Tiffani wasn’t into women, and Fiona would never drive that wedge between them, no matter how much she wanted Tiffani since the day they met.

“Go,” Fiona croaked.

Tiffani nodded, squeezed her hand, and shifted into drive. Fiona stepped back, and when Tiffani drove on, Fiona stayed in the rearview mirror a long time, watching.

“Be amazing,” she whispered. She didn’t go back inside, but sat on the steps to the duplex, staring out into the street, alone.

* * *

Light spilled across Fiona’s face, and she jerked the throw up to cover her eyes. “Bleeaarrrf,” she muttered.

“I could be a psychopath,” her mom, Marianne, said.

“Kill me quick. My head is pounding.”

Her mom surveyed the landscape of empty pop and mixer bottles and the nearly full bottles of vodka and whiskey. “Did you have more than a sip or two?”

“I’m a lightweight,” Fiona grumbled.

“Got that from your dad.”

That was true, probably. Fiona’s dad, Wally, would get three beers in and blow out the eardrums of anyone around him with a song or ten. Once, he didn’t realize the egg nog at a Christmas party had been spiked, and they had to literally drag him out to the backseat of the car as he blissfully muttered Christmas songs.

Fiona jammed down tighter into the couch and hid under the thin blanket. “Just gonna be like an hour or ten. Make yourself at home. Don’t be loud.”

Her mom gripped the blanket and tugged it off her. Fiona would have been embarrassed about her cartoon underwear, but this was her mom and she barely even registered it. Fiona sat up, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.



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