Date: Thu, 13 May 2004 08:38:51 +0000 From: Chris Angel Subject: Smells Like Sapphic Spirit, chapter one "Smells Like Sapphic Spirit" By Chris Angel ********** Sonata One: Bonnie, meet Kris ********** One slap was all it took to shut that alarm clock off. It had been ringing for quite some time, but finally Bonnie couldn't take it anymore, and she turned the stupid thing off. Morning was hard for a lot of people, especially those who were more of the `night owl' crowd. One of those said people just happened to be Bonnie. All you had to do was take a look at her room to see what she had been doing all last night. Open books laid sprawled across her coffee table, computer desk, and over her floor. All were math books, all were thicker than the brain of an ox. And all held language so complicated that only the brightest of America's youth understood it. And again, our little Bonnie just happened to subscribe to that category. Bonnie sighed, moaning slightly, then pulled her head upwards, off the comforting pillow it had been laid to. Morning. Monday morning, for those who need to be exact. It wasn't her favourite day, by any length, but Bonnie loved the idea that school was going to start anew. Y'see, Bonnie was a rare type. Most people her age considered their time for bright socializing and music. And while Bonnie was not a hermit, she was rather isolated. Because her real passion was for academics. The pursuit of knowledge above all else, that was her chosen field in life. But even rarer, was the asset that made her stand out from the crowds. She also had the amazing gift (or curse) of being astoundingly beautiful. Of course, she never regarded herself as such. Never let it be said that Bonnie Mitchell was a *vain* hottie. Sweeping one stray lock of blonde hair from her eye line, Bonnie leaned upright and swung her legs from under her bedspread. Her bare feet touched the ground slowly, knowing that there was a wet patch their. She had spilt some soda on the carpet the night before, in a rush to get to her computer. She left her comp on during her study session, just in case one of her many internet friends tried to contact her via IM. She liked speaking to people at night, though she had no idea why. Bonnie walked over to the door of her bedroom, and strode out, giving a quick yawn. It had to be about 5.00 in the morning, maybe earlier. It was still dark out. She could see that from the window of her upstairs hallway. But it didn't matter much. As it's been said, Bonnie wasn't much of a morning gal, but she tended to wake up at this time. The blonde-headed teen strode from her bedroom to the neighbouring bathroom, and closing the door behind her. She was still tired somehow, and needed something to wake her up. "A bubble bath." She said quietly. And so that was what she chose. The young girl cast her sweet eyes over to the cabinet overhanging her sink. She took out what she wanted, just the bottle that contained the bubble bath mixture. She placed it right at the edge of the tub, then went for the hot water pipe, turning it around quickly. Out came the stream of lukewarm water that became hot water. While the warming stream came downwards, Bonnie took the bottle of bubble bath. She poured it in lingering drips, mixing with the water and forming bubbles from the point of connection. Once that had been satisfied, Bonnie moved to the sink to grab a bar of soap. Just as she did, she came to look at herself in the mirror. Her gentle, silvery-grey eyes rolled up and down the pane of glass enshrouded by metal, observing herself. Bonnie's soft, creamy cheeks became dark with redness as she began removing her clothes. First came the top. She was wearing some navy blue `sun & moon' pyjamas. Not very mature, quite the opposite, but it suited Bonnie just fine for now. Working her dainty fingers into undoing every button, moving downwards, the front of her top was completely undone. She pulled it away and let it fall from her shoulders and arms, to the ground. Bonnie looked away, a furious blush along her pouting cheeks. Removal of her top meant the brandishing of her womanly `endowments'. Or moreover, the lack of them. Unlike other girls in high school, the growth of her breasts remained stoic. Aside from the slight outline of flesh that highlighted *very* partial growth, Bonnie's chest remained low to her torso. It was no secret that she had the smallest breasts at her school. It was the source of a lot of teasing by the other girls, sometimes even her friends (though they meant no harm). Even though she had gotten used to the usual comments, i.e. `you're flatter than a pancake' and `I've seen bigger breasts in a bucket of chicken', she was still self-conscious about her chest. Next to come were the bottoms, the lower half of her PJs. She pulled them down her thin luscious legs slowly, revealing a flash of her white cotton panties, frilly around the edges, the symbols of an actual virgin. Bonnie stepped out of them, her small feet touching the coldness of the bathroom tiles once more. The last thing to come down were her panties. They came off her crotch and legs with even greater ease, presenting that crescent-shaped outline of her seductive womanhood, gracing the rapidly warming air. Bonnie crossed both of her arms over her chest and gazed at the reflection in her mirror. She never really classed herself as beautiful. It had been told to her many times before (by the male population of her street, on a large scale) but she had yet to believe it. But Bonnie's beauty transcended any other. It went beyond the kind of `poster girl' routine that women in the media pulled. Bonnie was naturally gorgeous, in that she needed no make up, boob job or face lift to look that way. She was already there, and it didn't take much for people to start noticing it. Though, she still had this crippling fear of intimacy. It was the reason she had never been in a relationship. And besides that, her major concern was of her schoolwork. This, of course, was good for her parents (what self-respecting parent could say that they didn't want their children to have that sort of mentality) but frustrating for the people that were attracted to her. And although Bonnie wasn't noticing them, they were quite a few people that were casting her their eyes. By now, the bathroom was being filled with the scent of wildflowers, steam rising as the water of the tub did. Bonnie turned from the mirror, then over to the bathtub. She shut off the hot water pipe then added a little cold water to balance out the warmth. Once it was hot to the point of cooling, Bonnie dipped a toe into the water to check for herself. It was soon followed by her entire body. Bonnie climbed in, the lower half of her body disappearing in a cloud of scented bubbles, and settled. There was a sponge at the side of the tub. She clasped it, while her nose and skin adjusted to the sweet smell and soothing heat. Once she felt so comfortable it was sinful, Bonnie took the yellow and green sponge to her body, running it over her tight flesh. She dipped it into the water, soaking it, then brought back out and resumed with her actions, gently rubbing the soft article over her body. First to her chest. It glided over her undeveloped mounds, leaving behind a trail of wetness, that faded away in drips, running down her midriff and back to the water. The sponge made its way to her neck, over her collarbone, and around the nape, then down her shoulders and arms. Bonnie slipped her eyes shut and enjoyed the comforting feel of it. She had always enjoyed taking baths like this, it was a sort of guilty pleasure for her. And this continued for the better part of an hour, that comfort a welcomed alternation from leagues and leagues of book reading. Even though she had school soon, it was one of the rare times that Bonnie was hardly concerned. It was sensations such as this, that she believed, should last forever. ********** "What the hell is a workhouse?" Over, and over, and over again. Dear god, History was one boring lesson. Travelling through wave after wave of crusty old books that hardly anyone took a gander at. Then you had to read though `um and dig out the info that your hard-ass teacher tells you to find. Which took some people the better half of a couple hours. What was even worse, was when your entire grade depended on one little exam. That made hard work a necessity, more so than usual. Kris Taylor slapped the pencil in her hand straight to the table, sighed, and leaned back on the chair she was sitting in. Not only was this boring, it was ridiculously boring. She was a star hockey-player, not a historian. Making her do all this was like trying to motivate a penguin into flight. This mumbo-jumbo just didn't fly with her. Or, something to that effect. Across her table, a far sterner and more dedicated student cast an eye. An eye for the disruption, which, in fact, was caused by Kris. "Kris," She said. "Stick at it. This exam is really important. You don't want to fail it and blow your chances at a good college, do you?" "I'm starting to think college isn't worth this fuss," The frustrated girl ran a hand through her short wavy black hair. "How many more times will I have to cram like this? It sucks. I wanna head down to the rink, and take a smack at some pucks." "Well, it isn't going to happen." The girl replied. "And to answer you question, at least partially, go search for it in the glossary of a book." "What?" "You wanted to know what a workhouse was, right?" Kris shook her head slowly. "I really, really need some air." The hockey player stood upright and strode over to the front desk of the library. She couldn't take it anymore. She really and truly needed a break from all this stress. And to be perfectly honest, Kris would have easily resolved her issues on an ice rink. She loved hockey. She loved it with a passion. Being that Saffron-Jameson was a school that took a lot of pride in the ability of its sporting teams, Kris often got the chance to put her pleasure to practise. But recently, that had all changed. Since the finals were coming up soon, time had to be spent on study and whatnot. That meant most practice games and real ones were on hold. Which also meant that Kris had less of a tool for venting her emotions. Ice rinks were hard to come by in Victoria-Texas, and even fewer were teams that played at those rinks. The only options she had was to wait for the exams to end. It was a shame, because not all schools did this. There was a school, a couple miles from here, called Atlantic High. They had a rink right next to the grounds, and was open for access almost all the time. Kris cursed her luck to have come to Saffron-Jameson for her educational needs. Anyway, she needed to be getting out of here, regardless of the reason. Her Chemistry class started up in about three minutes, and her teacher had been riding her ass about lateness. The last thing she needed was to ended up reprimanded in front of the class again. Kris was just about to turn out of the library, until a figure whizzed past her. A girl. She was in a rush, and she quickly skipped past Kris in her haste, towards a aisle between the geography section and the sociology section. The dark-haired girl turned in place, whipping her head around to get a better look at her. `She's gorgeous...' Kris thought curiously. And damn well, she was. A blonde, of shoulder-long hair and medium height, and wearing the cutest little get-up Kris had seen yet. A rather conservative brown skirt, which was enhanced in allure by the shortness of it, a white loose shirt that had been tied up at the front of reveal her midriff, and a pair of dark brown shoes, contrasted by the white of her socks. Kris couldn't believe it. Either the girl had terrible dress sense, or she knew *exactly* how to illicit a reaction from a girl of Kris' orientation. But her clothing wasn't the only thing on Kris' mind. The girl had the most beautiful face. A elfin-like visage, with cute pouting cheeks (boasting the slightest tint of pinkish-red), full and rosy lips, and a dazzling set of silvery eyes, with a entrancing sparkle that immediately caught the attentions of Kris. The mystery girl seemed a year or so younger than she was, and from the looks of it, quite the little workaholic. The blonde scanned through each of the books in her line of vision, one after the other, until she found what she wanted. But it was a little bit high, on the edge of the top shelf. The girl stretched her right arm upward, forcing herself onto tip-toes. Even so, her fingers just barely grazed the bottom of the book, not quite making the cut. Kris watched with a concealed glee as the stretch of the girl's body made that skirt ride up her ass. She had such perfect form, her cute little behind wiggling with every move she made. Kris was so drawn by the spectacle, that she just now realized this was the perfect time to go and be `Miss Heroine`. The shorthaired girl strode over to the blonde girl's aisle, bracing herself. While the blonde continued to struggle, a firmer hand clutched the book that was in her sights. Kris smiled as the blonde hottie swung around, casting those innocent grey eyes at her. Kris was the first to speak between the two of them. "This was the book you were after, wasn't it?" The quiet girl just nodded, saying, "Y-Yes... Thank you..." There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Kris, at first, didn't notice that she wasn't speaking, she was just so caught up in how hot and petite this girl seemed. That was until the blonde gave a longing look over at the library's front desk. Then Kris realized that the girl was waiting for her to move. But rather than doing that, Kris remained as she was. The smiling brunette moved her head a little closer to the blonde's. "I've never seen you before. What's your name?" The girl turned beet red. "B-Bonnie..." "Bonnie?" Kris remonstrated. "That's a pretty little name. I'm Kris. Kris Taylor." It was then that Bonnie gave her attentions to Kris and not the checkout desk. She blinked, giving off a questioning gaze. "Are you on the ice hockey team?" Kris nodded. "Yup. How'd you know that?" The girl called Bonnie cast her gaze southward, to her shoes. "I-I saw you in the school newsletter. They said that you... were one of the main reasons that this school has any sports teams right now..." "That's true..." Kris rolled her eyes. She hated the fact that the school paper made that story about her. It brought all sorts of attention to the hockey team and attracted a bunch of hopeless wannabes that knew nothing of the sport. "But, it was nothing really." "I see..." Bonnie eyes lowered and fell. Kris couldn't read that. Normally she knew how to read the body language of a girl-into-girls. Smiles, up looking eyes and the embarrassed flash of an eyelash was her usual ticket with closet girls. With Bonnie, it was like she was stuck in the middle. Though she looked up enough, there was no fluttering. It was hard to read her. Kris decided to back off before she made a mistake. "Well, you might wanna get going." "Thanks." That was all she said. And she was gone. Bonnie walked over to the front desk, and went through the process of checking out that book. Kris watched her longingly. Bonnie was so... there was nothing to describe her. Kris loved that look she had going on. That vulnerable, I'm-ready-to-be-plucked-from-the-tree look. Bonnie's actions emphasized it. The way she absently flaunted that cute figure but gave mixed signals. But Kris couldn't stop staring at her. Then, as Bonnie got her book checked out and walked over to the exit. She stopped, then looked back over her shoulder, directly at Kris. The older girl blinked. Had Bonnie stared at her? It was a fleeting moment; because Bonnie was gone the next minute. Now Kris was more confused than she had been before. But that one little look did change a few things... if she was right... ********** Bonnie bounded away from the library, down the hall, in short strides. What was she... feeling in there? Why was she so uncomfortable in there? All she was doing was grabbing a book, then bang, Kris appeared and she felt so... what was that? She hadn't the time to think about it. Her class started now, and if she was late, she'd probably be held back after class. Bonnie made an ill-paced dash for the end of the corridor, ran down the flight of stairs, through the following corridor, into her English classroom. But it was too late. By the time she opened the door, the rest of the group had been seated. And poor Bonnie was left looking a lemon in the doorway. The teacher of said class, Miss Edwards, gave Bonnie a look that was less than jolly. "Glad you could join us, Bonnie." The mild blonde nodded in apology and quickly made her way over to her individual desk. Bonnie tried to fade out of attention as the lesson got started. She hated being embarrassed by in front of groups. While she did this, Bonnie slipped her eyes shut. She just needed to close her eyes for a sec, but a rest of the eyes became a snooze. ********** "Okay, girls! Hit the showers!" Kris and the other girls in the gym all nodded and headed for the changing rooms. Their couch, the burly woman in the thick tracksuit, walked around the room and collected all the balls that had been used in today's gym lesson. Basketball. Kris was the last person to head for the changing rooms. She waited at the corner of the echoing room, slightly adjacent from a hoop. The girl threw the ball swiftly, using a two-handed shot. Though Basketball was not her trademark sport, the basketball itself when straight through that hoop, almost effortlessly. Kris then sighed, rubbing some sweat from her face. They say that women don't sweat, they glow. But Kris didn't feel like she was glowing. Hell, she was feeling even more ragged than ever. When it came to sports, ones she liked or hated, Kris always made sure she did her best. Sometimes pushing herself to her maximum limit. That was the kind of dedication she presented for sports. It was one of the two most special things to her. The other being girls. Both warranted Kris' best performance. And both had been giving her trouble recently. And that had been heightened the moment that Kris met that girl, about an hour ago. Bonnie. Even now, Kris felt her heartbeat speed up. Just from thinking about her. About that cute blonde hair, those alluring grey eyes, her innocent smile and those magnetic pouts. She was absolutely dazzling. It struck Kris as weird that this was the first time they had met though. Granted, this was her final year, and Bonnie looked to be at least a year younger than Kris was, they should have crossed paths at least once before. Saffron-Jameson was a big school, but not that big. Kris shook her head, then walked over to the changing rooms as the rest of the class had done. She swung open the double revolving doors, and ambled over to her bag by the third bench. The brunette was surrounded by leagues of teen girl laughter and chatter, but paid no attention to it. None at all. It was the usual nonsense, "Did you hear that Shandi has a new crush?" "Really? Who for?" That sort of thing. Kris wasn't the `gossip' type. In fact, she was very different to most of the girls at this school. Whereas most girls her age were into fashion and pop, Kris was what you would call ... a tomboy. Sports were her main bag, school was not her strong point in any other way. Just studying gave her a headache. Even when growing up, when the girls decided to grow and manage their hair, Kris was fixed on her normal hairstyle, her thin strands of black hair long enough to just about cover her ears. It wasn't just that, either. Even when she was a kid, and all the other girls were indoors having tea parties and sleepovers, Kris was out in the garden, playing softball with her dad. That was the kind of girl Kris was. A tomboy. But, unlike most, she felt no shame in being called that. Kris liked who she was, even if it meant being isolated from the trendy crowds. She took a seat on her bench, and purposefully waited until everyone got going. She was feeling sweaty, and needed a shower, so waited. Soon, all the girls had gone about their own business, leaving for other classes and free periods. Kris heaved another sigh and went inside her sports bag, drawing out her watch. It was 10.11, her English lesson started at 10.30. She had more than enough time to get cleaned up. Kris gave the changing rooms one last eye over, to make sure no one was left. There wasn't. "Perfect." She said to herself. Kris went over to the shower stalls, that were in a separate room. The young woman stood in front of the glass panel of one of them, and began stripping down to her bare minimum, her nakedness. They all went, falling into a pile around her legs. First the white training shorts, then the sports shirt, then the white socks and the sneakers around (sensing a pattern yet?). Before long, she was naked loose and free. Kris wound her hands around her pert breasts, out of reflex, not shame, then walked inside the stall to get a bit wet. Keeping one arm around her chest, Kris used the free hand to switch on the flow of water. It came down in warm rainfall, bathing a vertically standing girl. Kris shut her eyes and looked up, feeling her soft skin being cleansed of all the sweat she had cultivated in her Basketball lesson. While she showered, Kris took the time to think. But no matter how much she focussed her thoughts on her life and how to spend her day, she found herself coming back to the issue of that `Bonnie' girl. She was so gorgeous, so sweet and dainty. And genuinely innocent, not like some of the sluts out there who faked it to get laid. Kris could tell. Bonnie was a sweetheart, but it was so hard to read her. Was she presenting her feelings when she looked back at Kris? Or was it just a mistake? Was Kris just reading too much into it? The Texan teen opened her eyes and blinked. Though she was doubting herself, Kris was seriously thinking that Bonnie could have an eye for her. But was that possible? That hot little thing couldn't really be interested in Kris... could she? Yet, in counter to that, why not? Kris might have been a tomboy, but she wasn't ugly. Kris Taylor had had many lovers in the past two years, some younger than her, most older than her. She was beautiful, with long silky legs, thin hips, and moderately sized breasts. Despite her mid 90's Demi Moore haircut (or in addition to it, depending on your view), her face was a vision of perfection, with soulful dark eyes and pale milky cheeks. Kris hadn't broken any hearts yet, but her powerful looks were certainly capable of it. "Dammit," She thought irritably. "Why can't I stop thinking about her?" She had to do something to keep herself under control. If she didn't, the next time she saw Bonnie, she might do something stupid like ask her out. But it wasn't easy. Her nipples were already swelling to hardness. Just from thinking of her. Maybe just getting some of the sexual build-up off her back would ease the situation. Kris hazarded a gaze through the steamy glass of the shower stall to see if anyone was around again. The coast was still clear. The girl took a deep breath, and set about pleasuring herself. One hand went to her left nipple. Her longs fingers plucked at it, the pink flesh already hard with arousal. Kris closed her eyes as she played with it, and breathed in slowly. She rolled the nub between her fingers, over and over again, and sunk her down her damp, naked body. It slid over her flat stomach and her midriff, then over her vulva. Even now, she could feel wetness down there, and it was a little bit thicker than the water of the shower. Kris separated the folds of her womanhood, took a deep breath, and began rubbing. Slowly at first, avoiding the clit. It got faster, as her hand worked over her crotch with great zeal. Ambitiously, she had lubricated her fingers, and so she thrust them into herself as best she could, spreading her legs a bit. It was an awkward angle to work from, so she arched her back as best she could, tilting her head backwards. Kris' hips jerked, while her thumb rubbed the clit she had previously avoided. Through all this, her breath quickened, her mouth widened, and she released a deep moan, torn from her throat. Her cries echoed out around the shower stall, merging with the sounds of dripping shower water. But though Kris had chosen to pleasure herself, her feelings toward Bonnie were unchanged. And it seemed that no matter what would happen, Kris wanted to have the blonde girl do this for her... ********** Chris Angel says, - Hey! The first chapter of my newest story! If you have any comments or questions, feel free to mail me. - Before anyone asks, Kris isn't a self-insertion. She's a revamped version of a character I came up with last year, for a different story.