The Beginnings of a Greater Investment
Mitsuru texted back quickly.
“Would it be okay if I came over now?”
Fuuka just stared down at her phone. Now!? She didn’t have anything nice to wear, she probably looked horrible, at least to Mitsuru’s standards, and- and- what might happen?! Fuuka took a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine. Just… trust her.
“Yeah, of course!”
Mitsuru got out of bed, got on her motorcycle, and drove over right away. It didn’t matter she was still in her pjs, in her mind, Fuuka probably was too. It didn’t matter if her hair was tangled, she didn’t care. She just wanted to see Fuuka. The mid-September breeze made the ride cold, but a warm set of arms would greet her soon.
Fuuka heard a knock on the door. It was happening. She straightened out the potted plants, making sure everything was to what she presumed Mitsuru’s standards were. She tightened her nightgown a bit, and opened the door. When she saw Mitsuru, standing there, her hair slightly frizzy, still in her fuzzy, silk pajamas, Fuuka felt a lot less pressure. This wasn’t for business anymore. It was for them.
“M-may I come in.. Fuuka..”
Mitsuru was still a little out of breath from running up the 26 flights of stairs.
“Y-yes. Please… come in.”
Mitsuru stepped in, and took Fuuka’s hand in her own out of slight habit. She smiled at Fuuka. They both spoke at the same time by accident, their voices light.
“It’s just like Makoto…”
They looked at each other. How did she know what Makoto was like? Makoto only dated one of them, but yet… they both knew how he treated the other? As they looked at each other, gears slowly started turning in their heads. They looked at their hands, then the other’s eyes. Makoto… loved them both. It was like some sort of divine foretelling. Or were they in denial of the fact that Makoto dated them both at the same time? They couldn’t really decide. All that they knew is that… when they held hands, their stomachs fluttered and they blushed. They got lost in each other’s eyes.
They were stuck at an emotional impasse. They were eying the other’s lips, not knowing who would move first. They were blushing a hot red, and unable to do anything but stare. Until Fuuka just pulled Mitsuru into a kiss. Mitsuru was shocked, and so was Fuuka to be honest. They were both fairly untrained in romance, and especially cues and being affectionate. But somehow, this just ran on instinct. This kiss, this first tender, fragile moment, shone into another, brighter future. One where they didn’t need Makoto, they didn’t need to dwell on the past constantly. They just needed each other. Mitsuru was the one to break the kiss.
“F-Fuuka, you…”
“I-I’m s-sorry, it j-just seemed natural in t-the moment, and-”
“N-no, Fuuka, that’s not it at all… I.. enjoyed it.”
Fuuka looked up at Mitsuru, seeing the blush on her face still. She really meant it. Fuuka was still in disbelief that she made the Mitsuru blush.
“D-do you want to actually come in now?”
Mitsuru let out a light chuckle.
“Yes. I would. Do you have anything to make tea? I’m quite thirsty.”
Fuuka nodded as she guided the other to the kitchen. Fuuka took out a tea service and walked over to the table, setting it up. Mitsuru took out the kettle and began to make the tea. Fuuka just watched from the table, admiring her. Her flowing maroon hair, her shining dirt eyes, her blood red lipstick covering the beautiful pink lips beneath. The beautiful, fit body underneath the fluffy, pink clothes she had on. The thighs, the ass that just doesn’t know when to quit, the- no. Fuuka tried to get a hold of herself before her mind wandered too far down the gutter.
Mitsuru picked up on the way Fuuka was staring her down, and her blush got a little worse. She’d never thought someone would look at her like that again, much less while she was in their own home. It made her feel wanted, and strangely, loved. It was an amazing feeling, and Mitsuru found herself eying Fuuka the same way. Her hair, now untied, flowed down to her elbows, the smooth teal dye turning back into the natural dark brown in the underlayer of her hair. Her eyes, still skimming over her body, were filled with a deep love, and a slowly rising want. Her lips, small and soft, were parted as she almost gawked at Mitsuru. The nightgown helped accentuate her small figure. She wasn’t necessarily endowed, but it didn’t necessarily matter either. She was beautiful the way she was, and it needed no changes.
The kettle’s scream snapped both of them out of their stares, a quick laugh being exchanged as Mitsuru took the kettle over to the table and poured out the two cups of tea. Fuuka watched, less on the pouring, but the well-manicured hands that she’d felt in her own. She lightly scolded herself mentally for all of the depraved thinking she’d been doing. Mitsuru just sighed and poured her own cup.