jetaime

Subject: Jetaime Chapter 1 This is my first attempt at writing lesbian literacy, and will gladly welcome any comments about my works. Encouragement and demoralizing criticism are equally welcomed. Do email me at ail. Here comes the mind-numbing disclaimer: The following story below is written by Inked Soul, and can be freely distributed publicly so as credits are stated clearly to Inked Soul. Also, sexual contents, female/female sex and other relevant adult material are included in the story. Do not read any further beyond this sentence if you (1) are under legal age (in your country) or (2) do not favor such sexual material. That's about it, people. Read on and I do hope you enjoy it! Jetaime Chapter One Sam stared with bewilderment at the aspiring Marilyn Manson girl in front of her. She shudders to think what it'd be like, to wake up in the middle of the night and seeing a walking corpse like her having coffee on her 1800s Victorian dining table. Lisping through her pierced tongue, the Marilyn Manson wannabe grunted, "So, do we have a deal here or not? I may have problems paying for the first month's rent though..." "Erm, Marley right? I'll get back to you, ok?" Sam replied nervously. "Sam, poise yourself. You deal with ugly 50-year-olds perverted businessmen in your job, and now, you can't handle a 19-year- old angst filled teenager?" she thought. "Yeah, just don't take too long." Marley glared with her red contacts eyes. "Well, that was quite an encounter..." Sam thought in disbelief as she watched Marley leave. That Marley girl was her 7th applicant for the afternoon. Sam lives in Brooklyn, NY, down at 18th Street, alone in a luxurious 5-room apartment, which she inherited kocaeli escort from her grandfather. 5 rooms became too much of an isolation for senior marketing executive like her, who happens to be in the Single's club for the last 2 years. She thought it could be healthier for her to have some socialization at home, perhaps with a roommate. Thus, she placed an advertisement on the classifieds a couple of days back, offering a room for a nominal sum. To Sam, money is secondary to human companionship. However, at the rate it was going so far, she would be better off getting a dog. Sam signed as she sunk into her amazingly comfortable red armchair. "How the hell did I end up this way?" regrets ran bitterly in her ocean of thoughts. Samantha Francis. 29 years of age with short chestnut brown hair and hazel-brown eyes that seem to speak silent words of expression. Towering the average woman at 5'8", with a well-toned body to match, it's little wonder why the typical chauvinistic men find her intimidating. Not that she complains though, since she has entered the beautiful yet condemned world of lesbianism 6 years back, when she met Cheryl. At that point of time, she thought Cheryl was the one. She toyed with the idea of spending the rest of her life with her. "Always expect the unexpected," she scoffed at herself. It was on her birthday, 4 years into their relationship, when Cheryl mercilessly stabbed her heart with the words, "I've been seeing someone for the last 4 months, and I love him." Him. A male. At that point of time, Sam's eyes piled up with tears of sorrow instantaneously. She was too stunned to even utter a single word. All she managed to do was to look at Cheryl vacantly. Suddenly, izmit escort their train of emotions, thoughts and physical intimacy doesn't seem to exist anymore. Cheryl has backed out from the complications of being a lesbian, something that society doesn't accept, and has succumbed to following the norm. A tiny tear tickled down Sam's chiseled cheeks as she reminisce her one and only lesbian relationship 2 years back. Since Cheryl abruptly walked out of her life, she kept herself extremely busy at work, and managed to be promoted within a short span of 1 year. However, she withdrawn herself from the dating field and hasn't quite glued her broken heart back. "Ding Dong!" The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Sam dragged herself to the door, expecting another eccentric applicant. As she peered behind the door, she nearly fell over at the sight of the finest of God's creation at her doorstep. There the stranger stood, at about 5'4", with blonde hair flowing down to her slim waist and crystal blue eyes. "Hello. I'm Jetaime McGuire. I was wondering if your room is still up for rent?" "Huh? What?" Darn! She thought. Wake up Sam! Say something logical! She was too mesmerized by the beauty in front of her that her brain came to a halt and everything seemed to freeze in awe of her beauty. "It's ok. I guess I came too late." Jetaime began to turn her back to walk away. "No, wait a minute! Sorry," Sam recollected herself up. "Actually, my room is still open for rent, do you want to view it?" Jetaime smiled. "Oh god, that smile is lethal," Sam thought as she showed Jetaime into her apartment. She explained to Jetaime that she found having 5 rooms to her more of a liability, darıca escort since she doesn't have anyone in her life, and that she can't exactly sell the apartment away since her deceased grandfather gave it to her. "It isn't ethnical," she explained. As Jetaime continued exploring her apartment, Sam watched her every move. "Wow, she's beautiful..." her thoughts lingered on before she realized she hasn't exactly interviewed Jetaime. "Sorry, but I didn't catch your name just now," "Jetaime." "What?" Did she just said she love me? Sam thought shockingly. "Jetaime McGuire. I know, I have a stupid name. My ever-romantic father thought it would be special to christen me after his over- exhausted word." "No no no, it's beautiful, believe me" "Thank you," Jetaime blushed slightly. That's one of the vices for having snow-white complexion. It's obvious when you blush. "Do you want to sit down while I get you some coffee? I do have to interview you, you know, regardless of how pretty you are," Sam grinned. Shit! She was flirting! When was the last time she did that? "Haha," Jetaime laughed nervously. "Ok..." Sam made coffee and they spoke for about an hour in her cozy living room decorated with such exaggerated English concept, courtesy of her grandfather. Sam found out that Jetaime is 24, currently majoring in Communications in NYU, and her accent came from living in Manchester, England, for the last 5 years. Sam wondered if she should notice Jetaime of her sexual orientation. Nah, I'll just keep my life low profile. She brushed the moral voice inside her. With that, Jetaime was told to move in the following week. No drugs, no more than a friend over for the night and no prostitution. That was the basic ground rules laid out clearly for Jetaime. It sounds good, Jetaime thought. Sam seems like a nice person. She can't wait to finally move out of her disastrous house, which she suffering tediously living with her family.