Flowers from Ophelia
written by:
Wayward Eve

Hi. You can call me Evelyn.

There are some things you should know about me before we get started. First, I'm 5' 5". I have blonde hair. I wear it short. 34C. I usually hover around 115 pounds. Second, aside from a few minor details (like names), this is autobiographical. Lastly, I'm not what you would call a ‘good girl' or a ‘nice person'. I'm sharing this with you because it gets me off. If you don't like me, I don't care. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. You might want to keep some tissues handy.

Madison was that girl. You know the one, popular and perfect. Her blonde hair had natural curls. It caught the light like a golden aura. She could smile like an angel while the devil danced in her eyes. Her figure had just the right mix of curves and angles. The girls all wanted to be her. The boys all wanted to be with her. Just then, she was mine. Madison was sprawled out in the back of a van, catastrophically drunk, and obsessed with my mouth. I was lying beside her; our tongues dueling while my fingers aggressively uncovered every secret that her body had to offer.

Behind the front seats, the van was open space. The floor was covered in blue packing blankets, leftovers from the van's glory days as some kind of delivery vehicle. It belonged to Lacey; our all-time designated driver thanks to an allergic intolerance for alcohol. Playing the role of our dutiful chauffer, she ferried us from the frat party and back to the dorm without complaint. No matter how I made Madison cry out, Lacey remained frustratingly disinterested in what I was doing behind her as she drove. Parker, Madison's trophy boyfriend, was just the opposite. He sat in the passenger's seat with his neck craned to watch us.

I worked my way down Madison's body, pushing aside clothing and leaving a trail of passion marks in my wake. She was wearing fishnet stockings held up by elastic lace. These, I ignored. Her black, lacey panties I removed, shoving them into one of the back pockets of my cutoffs. Then, lying on my stomach, I pressed my mouth into the apex of her thighs. I left nothing untasted. I suckled her lips and teased penetration with darting licks. I kissed her clit, swirling her hood like a lover's tongue. Madison's back arched until only the back of her head and her bottom still touched the van's floor when she came. I had to pull my face free as she rolled onto her side, body twitching with orgasmic aftershocks. I used her shirt to wipe my chin clean of her juices before helping her back into it.

The lurching bump as the van pulled into the dorm parking lot did it. Muttering something, Madison flung herself out of the backdoors and proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach onto the concrete. I sat, feet dangling out of the back of the van, as Parker rushed to help his fallen princess. Like a gentleman, he held her hair out of the way. Lacey walked around the van's exterior and took a seat beside me.

"Classic," she said, indicating Madison. Lacey was wearing black slack and a charcoal blazer, which she wore with a single button fastened and only a bra beneath. She had the figure of a pubescent boy but carried herself with the swagger of Aphrodite in heat. I deliberately avoided looking at her lips. I was enjoying Madison's suffering and I didn't want to be distracted. Lacey's lips were full and captivating. Think Angelina Jolie.

"Can't wait for her to see the hickies," I said. I'd left around a dozen of them between Madison's neck and inner thigh. Tomorrow was going to a turtleneck day for daddy's little girl.

Without warning, Lacey leaned into me and started sucking on my neck. I gasped, the breath catching in my chest. Her mouth was hot and the sting of the suction made me squirm. The touch of her lips did more to turn me on than anything I'd done to or with Madison. After a moment, Lacey pulled away. "What was that for?" I asked between heavy breaths.

"So you can tell Madison that she did it," Lacey said. Her devastating lips were twisted in a smile that was pure mischief.

"Only one?" I coaxed.

Lacey snorted a laugh. "You're greedy." Then she stood. "I'm going back to the party. Want to come with or were you still planning on kissing Madison?" The thought curled my stomach. Lacey laughed at my expression. "Come with me?"

I stood, closed the van doors, and turned back to face Lacey. Her emerald green eyes seemed luminous in the florescent light of the parking lot. "No," I said. It took every ounce of will I had to deny her. I wanted her, but not on her terms. She shrugged it off with casual indifference. A minute later she was gone and I was helping Parker move Madison upstairs. The fun portion of her night was over. All that was left was the restless sleep of the soon-to-be hung-over.

"My room," I told Parker when we got her inside. He helped me lay her down on my bed. "You should probably go," I told him. He wasn't overly receptive to the idea, but I was sore and tired. Believe or not, even I have my limits. "Tomorrow," I promised him. After escorting him out, I undressed and went through the awkward motions of putting my t-shirt onto Madison. After a quick shower, I put on her panties and crawled into bed beside her.

It was still dark when I woke up. Madison was gone. I crawled out of bed, slipped on a tank top, and left my bedroom. The communal living room was dark save for a sliver of light from beneath the closed bathroom door. From beyond that door, I could hear the sounds of Madison sniffling and mewling to herself. Instead of knocking, I listened for a few moments, savoring the sweet sounds of her despondence. It was time to twist the knife. I sat down with my back against the doorframe. "Madison," I called out to her. "Are you okay?"

Go away," she answered. Her voice was a harsh rasp.

"Please," I said. "I think we did something really bad. I think we..." I let my voice trail off, as though I couldn't bring myself to put a name to what we'd done.

"That drink you gave me. What was in it?"

"I don't know," I lied. "One of the boys made them for me." She didn't immediately respond, so I let the silence linger for a minute or two before saying, "You can tell Parker that it's my fault."

Madison started crying so I let myself into the bathroom. She was sitting on a towel in front of the toilet. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She looked strung-out and used up. Passion marks stood out like splashes of purple on her fair skin. The best part? She was still wearing my shirt. I knelt beside her, holding her as she sobbed. After enjoying that for a few minutes, I started fishing for information. I needed to know how much of the party she remembered. It didn't amount to much. She had vague memories of dancing and fooling around in the van. She knew Parker helped her upstairs. "If he helped us upstairs, he can't be too mad at us," I said, careful to add a hint of doubt to my voice.

"I cheated on him," she said pathetically. "I'm straight," she added with a rueful laugh.

"I'll tell him it was my fault. I'll..." I hedged, pretending to grasp at straws. "I'll say I got the wrong idea when we danced that first time." It was a subtle knife. Madison had been the one that wanted to dance. It had been her idea to put on a bi-curious performance for the boys. I laid it on thick. "He loves you, Madison. What you have is special... This was just one stupid thing. We were drunk... He loves you so much. He'll forgive you." By the time I helped her into her bed, my shirt was soaked with her tears, everything was her fault, and we were best, best friends. Once Madison was asleep, I crept back into my room and called Parker. He was going to need to be told how to handle this.

He answered on the second ring. "Evelyn," he said. "What's... ummm...What's up?" He was breathing heavily, fumbling his words. His voice cracked and quavered. I knew that sound, knew what it meant.

"Parker," I said coyly. "Who is sucking your cock right now?" He didn't answer. Only the sound of his shuddering breath came across the line. I turned the volume on my phone all the way. In the background, soft, suckling sounds confirmed my suspicions. "I can hear her, Parker. Who is it?" I was amused, not angry.

"Lacey."

My world stopped turning. "Oh," I said flatly. Parker muttered something unintelligible that devolved into a low, throaty moan I'd refused her invitation. I'd fucked another girl's boyfriend on her bed. This was her retaliation. She couldn't have known I'd call, so this was just icing on the cake for her. I wanted to be irritated, but I was too turned on. Lacey had the kind of mouth that made me wish I had a cock. The mental image of her full lips pursed around Parker's left my skin flush and my lips damp. I opened my nightstand drawer and took out my vibrator, moistening it with my mouth before touching myself. "Tell me about it," I said.

"Ummm..." he said, breathlessly. "She's so good, Evelyn. Her... her... eyes... her lips... Oh, fuck."

"Not yet," I told him. "Don't cum yet. I want to cum with you." In broken sentences he told Lacey what I was doing. She slowed down, delaying his climax. Parker and I had used Madison as a surrogate. Now Lacey was using Parker to go down on me by proxy. I fell backwards onto my bed, phone pressed to my ear and vibrator circling my clit. Its droning pulsations rippled up through me, reverberating into my stomach muscles. Parker broke. There was a loud thud as he dropped his phone, gasping Lacey's name in the throes of orgasmic release. That same name trembled off of my own lips as I joined him.

For a few moments, the line was quiet. Any subtle noises were drowned out by my own labored breathing. There was a jostling sound as someone picked up Parker's phone. "Hello, Evelyn. You have impeccable timing," Lacey said.

"Why, thank you," I said as cordially as my shortness of breath allowed. "How did you wind up with him?"

"We met back to the party. You left the poor boy acutely frustrated."

"You know, it's impolite to play with my toys without asking," I chided her.

"Oh?" she said. "I thought it was impolite to leave my bed messy." She'd couched that well, betraying nothing to Parker. In addition to Madison and Lacey, I shared my dorm room with a girl named Devon. It had been her boyfriend, Levi, that I'd fucked on Lacey's bed. Parker didn't need to know about that, though.

"A hit," I said. "A very palpable hit."

"You're not Laertes," she replied. "You're Ophelia."

Ophelia, the mad, heartsick girl. Somehow, coming from Lacey, it felt like a term of endearment. "In that case, where are my sweets for the sweet?" I asked.

"You should have come with me," she said. "Now you'll just have to drown your misery." I laughed at her play on Ophelia's fate. I loved the clever ease of her rebuttals. She never missed a beat. Nothing fazed her. She was untouchable. No longer occupied with a buzzing egg, my freehand touched the spot where she'd marked my neck. I wanted her, there in bed beside me. I'd gone down on her but we'd never kissed.

The direction of my thoughts and desires left me uneasy. "Put Parker on," I said. It was a strategic retreat.

"You two talk funny," Parker said, taking the phone back. He was a poorly-read Philistine and proved it frequently. I spent the next few minutes explaining how I'd ruthlessly manipulated his girlfriend's emotions and then instructed him on how best to take advantage of what I'd done. After hanging up, I took a couple pills to help me get to sleep. Over the years, I've been proscribed quite a number of medications to help sustain my sunny disposition. Mostly, they put me to sleep. I dreamed about Hamlet.

"Wake up." I pried my eyes open, squinting to focus them. Madison was sitting at the foot of my bed, wearing a flannel pajama shirt and socks. Without all the makeup, her beauty was a softer, natural thing. It was almost enough to camouflage the rings under her inflamed eyes or the little purple blotches on her neck. In one night I'd demolished her facade of smug entitlement. What remained was just so much exquisite rubble. She was fragile, vulnerable. "You awake?" she asked, shaking my leg.

"Yeah I grumbled, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. "You okay?" I love asking that question when the answer is so obviously negative.

"I talked to Parker," Madison said. Her chin started quivering, a precursor to tears. I slipped out from beneath my covers and held her. She leaned into me. Her hair smelled like apple spice shampoo. "He said..." She faltered. I knew what was coming. I'd told Parker precisely what to say and how to say it. I couldn't wait to hear her pass my words back to me. "He said he loved me and then..."

I repressed a shiver of anticipation

"And then he asked me how long I'd been a dyke and... and if I'd ever cheated on him like that before." Parker had been reluctant to say that part. Of course, he came around when I proposed telling Madison the truth instead.

"Have you?" I asked.

"No," she said earnestly, "I'm straight."

"I thought I was too," I said, weaving threads wistful resignation into my tone. Some people call it lying. I prefer the term ‘improvisation'. "But there's something special about you Madison." She looked up to me with stupid, doe eyes. I kissed her chastely on the lips. She didn't kiss back, but she didn't withdraw either.

"I can't," she said, averting her gaze.

I brushed her hair back from her neck and kissed it tenderly. "I know. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I'll still do whatever it takes to help make things right between you and Parker," I said, kissing her jaw. "But I don't regret what we did together." Well, at least something I told her was true. Slowly, Madison turned her face towards me, offering me another opportunity to kiss her. Eyes closed, she wanted me to. Instead, I released her and stood. "I'm going to go take a cold shower. Call Parker and ask him to come over tonight. We'll handle him together."

Wouldn't you just love to be a fly on the wall for that? Stick around.

I've learned that I have a new fetish. Boys, have your girls read my stories aloud to you. Be sure to make good use of your mouths while they do it. Then, send me an ESmail to tell me all about it.