Neglected House And Female Mover

The movers had arrived. Laura was on the phone with her husband when the box truck pulled in with its hazards on. She was nine floors up, and the truck looked like a children's toy while the people who drove it looked like action figures. Well, they didn't look like much apart from hats with nondescript logos and uniformed shoulders from the top down.

"I wish you were here," she said nervously.

"I can't, I have to set things up here for work. You'll be fine," Jim replied easily.

It was a big promotion for both of them. Jim did remote accounting work for a company in the SMP 500; well, now he did. For the longest time, he was on the lower rung of the corporate ladder while Laura worked part-time waitressing for a local café. But now with the new job and the substantial paycheck bump, they could afford a place out in the suburbs with a white picket fence, an HOA, and all the trappings of upper middle class life as opposed to the apartments with chain link fences, bums on the corner, and the trappings of a lower middle class one.

Jim was happy. Laura knew she should be, but some part of her was already dreading the move. The city life was rough around the edges, but she found the everyday chaos fulfilling. More than that, she wasn't sure about Jim. Jim wasn't a bad man, but he was cold and distant. She never felt welcome when he was home and secretly enjoyed it when he would have to stay out late in emergency meetings. And at the same time, Jim felt the same way. He was out of the house more often than not, whether working or saying he was working. One night, she found lipstick on the collar of his dress shirt; she cleaned it out without a word. Another night, on his neck was the scent of a woman's perfume. This, too, she ignored.

Laura was married to Jim, and with her background--from a traditional, Christian family that looked down on divorce--she didn't think of leaving him... not seriously. Besides, Jim was a good provider. He did come home on time occasionally and they'd been together since freshman year of high school. It was a lot to throw away for something she wouldn't have felt any way about if she hadn't found out. Laura told herself that.

"What kind of work do you need to show up early for remote?" she asked with the slightest hint of accusation. There was a bigger chance he was with that other woman than anything else.

"Work, sweetie," he said dismissively.

"I still wish you were here."

"I know."

"The movers."

"Don't worry about that. They'll have most of the stuff down by late afternoon. Besides, I know how you feel about random men in the house."

Laura was a hundred and twenty pounds and five-foot-four. She wasn't skinny, but she wasn't fat either. None of it was muscle. The idea of two meatheads walking around the house, sweating, possibly leering, didn't appeal to her. She was already dressed conservatively in a midi dress with a closed chest and long skirt to make her seem sexless. There was no hiding her face. It was pretty in an innocent kind of way. She had big eyes, a button nose, and full, pink lips. Not having makeup helped, but her pale skin being so clear and pink around the cheeks didn't.

Jim went on: "I hired them special."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"One of them is a woman."

"What?! How are they supposed to get all our stuff down before nighttime?!"

"Now, now, honey, I'm sure they're capable. They had a lot of good reviews, and they were professional enough over the phone. Woop! Got to go!''

And before she could protest, the call went dead.

Another second and there was a knock at the door. Annoyed, Laura walked across her apartment to open it.

There was a man exactly like what she expected. He had tattoos on his arms, a full beard with ruddy cheeks, and towered over her. The woman, though, was not. Laura stared at her. She had expected someone who looked less capable, or capable in a different way--someone with a stocky build or with arms like hers who took the job out of desperation or with something to prove. The woman in front of her was neither. She was six feet by what Laura could tell, with thick-toned arms and a bronzed complexion. She had short, wavy blonde hair underneath her cap. Her shoulders and hips were wide, though the shoulders were wide in a way that couldn't be described as mannish. Nothing about her screamed masculine.

Laura realized she was looking at a type of woman she'd never seen before. The mover had an aggressive kind of beauty. It was the kind of beauty supermodels had. Her eyes were fierce, her jaw was strong, and her nose was straight. She also had heart-shaped lips.

She was the one to take the lead.

"Laura? Hi, we're with Top on Bottom Movers. I'm Miranda and this is Phil."

Phil nodded.

"Are you ready to get started?"

It occurred to Laura that she'd been staring. "Uh, sure, come right in. Do either of you want water? Lemonade?"

"Maybe later, Laura, we've got a lot of work to do. First, we want to know what stays here in the apartment and what goes."

"Everything goes."

"Then we have a lot of work to do." Miranda smiled down at her.

It also occurred to Laura that she'd dressed like a homeless person. Her long black hair was in a messy bun, and she didn't have any makeup on. It was fine dressing like that for a man you didn't have interest in, but not for one of the girls. "I'll let you guys get to it. Just give me a moment to freshen up."

They were already working by the time Laura came back out in a sundress with her wavy hair down. The muscles on Miranda weren't for show. She was moving a couch with the other guy (Phil, Laura almost forgot) without breaking a sweat. Her biceps swelled under the strain. Laura followed them around with appraising looks. Miranda was really impressive. Even if she didn't have the raw strength Phil did, she had reserves of stamina in spades. Over time, her tanned skin got covered in a light layer of sweat that came down in beads while Phil's armpits were dark with perspiration. An hour in, Laura insisted they have some water. Phil managed to decline, insisting on moving some of the lighter items down. It was just Laura and Miranda.

"You have a nice apartment," Miranda said.

"You work with what you have," Laura said. They were at the kitchen table with tall glasses of iced water. Miranda looked elsewhere as she drank. Her throat was elegant, too. Laura didn't know why she noticed that, but she did. "So, what made you get into the moving business?"

"Phil's my brother, and he offered me a job. Since I'm a girl, we have a wider range of clients."

"Too many men in the house, it makes me nervous."

"Especially all alone," Mirand commented. "Where is your...? Are you...?"

"Yes, I'm married." She fiddled with the ring on her finger. "He's getting us set up at the new house while I get us set out here--well, you guys get us set out."

Miranda nodded.

"You're really strong."

This time, the mover was smiling. To showcase her apparent strength, she pulled her uniform sleeve past her shoulder and flexed her arm. The wife crossed her legs absentmindedly.

"How did you get like that?" she asked in amazement.

"I've always been like this. Ever since I got into bodybuilding in high school."

Laura's nose wrinkled. "Like those ladies in the TV competitions?" Those were monsters. They had muscles, much larger muscles than even Miranda, but it came at the trade-off of their feminine mystique. Laura respected it, but she didn't like it.

"We get a bad name cause of the, uh, the way bodybuilding has been trending. It's always, 'bigger, bigger, bigger!' and not what the best-built body should look like. Sometimes I think they should have a category for mass, where people try to get as big as possible and another category for aesthetics. Sorry, that's boring stuff. I do the bikini version."

"Bikini version?"

"You train to have the best-looking body with an emphasis on definition; also, you wear a bikini. It's not gratuitous, I'll say. It's all above board. Wanna see a picture?"

Her phone was already out.

Laura said nothing. She was about to see this woman half-naked.

Miranda showed her the screen. Miranda was on stage in a hot pink two-piece with her bronzed body posed for display. The lights of the stage bounced off the oiled surfaces on her skin. Laura's throat went dry; she needed another drink of water.

"I don't think the way other girls go about it is the best. They try to get too skinny. I get a bit more muscle and a small layer of fat, but I try to keep everything defined at the same time. See, you can still see my abs even though I managed to keep my boobs."

Laura felt a heat running down between her legs. "Wow," was the only word she could find to say.

"You can follow me on Instagram if you want. It's MiranaBod. I post all kinds of workouts there." She finished her drink. "Break times over."

Laura was alone again. Her heart was beating pretty fast. As Miranda had left the table, Laura had caught a whiff of her sweaty body. Instead of revulsion, she... liked it. She disappeared into a bathroom, hiked up her dress, and looked at her panties in the vanity mirror. It was wet down there. She pulled them down and watched a trail of her juices. Her heart was beating even faster.

Laura had never once thought of another woman in... that way. She barely even thought of men in that way. She never considered herself full of desire for anyone. Yet that Miranda...

"Get it together," she said. "That's craziness."

She flushed the toilet for appearance's sake. She also ran the faucet. Laura already had a plan: stay as far away from Miranda as possible. When Miranda and Phil were working in one room, Laura would be in the other. Eventually, all the furniture would be tucked safely away in their van, Laura would tip them both for a job well done (she'd hand the money to Phil), and then Laura would sleep alone on an air mattress for the night.

But she did want to see Miranda work. But she couldn't! It was wrong. Laura wasn't anti-gay by any means, but it was... no, she wasn't like that and had never been like that. A fluke was all it was. Miranda was just... strange; sometimes, strange was exciting. And what about Jim?

"Probably with the other woman," she muttered.

Laura froze with her hand on the bathroom doorknob. That was a bad thought. They were all bad thoughts.

She was on her way to the bedroom to avoid Miranda when the tall woman popped out of a doorway carrying a lamp and its shade. They almost bumped into each other. They were very close in the narrow hallway. Miranda's breath was minty. She smelled, but it was the same good smell Laura had caught as the other woman left the table. It didn't smell like traditional oniony BO. You wanted to huff it in, stick your face in its source. To lick it up.

"You alright?" Miranda asked.

Laura snapped out of it. She'd been staring. She also felt the heat in her cheeks. The only other time she had a reaction like that was back in grade school with her first crush. Then the other time with the neighbour boy in church.

Miranda put her stuff down on a nearby dresser. She took Laura by the shoulders. She was touching her. It was only a firm grip around a naked shoulder, but even then, Laura felt the sense of controlled strength behind it. Not like a man's strength; nothing so oppressive like that. But it was stronger than her. Laura couldn't fight back against it as Miranda led her into--the bedroom! the bedroom!--the bedroom. She was sitting down.

"Feeling sick? I'll grab you another water." Miranda was gone.

Laura swallowed dryly. There was a squeezing sensation in the middle of her chest. Miranda came back with some water. In one gulp, Laura emptied the glass. "It's alright," she told the mover. "I just have to go to the ladies' room."

It was a nasty excuse, though it was the only one she could think of at the time. She made it back to the bathroom. In private again, she repeated her self-examination by pulling up her dress while stretching the waistband of her panties to peek at the damage.

Jim had never gotten her this wet. There was a heat there too. It was throbbing, swollen with apparent desire. Laura, though Jim never made frequent use of it, had fat lips that smothered the inner ones. It was a bitch to shave and a bitch to have sex with. Jim's penis would get stuck on the lips, so after sex, Laura usually felt it rubbed raw down there. With Miranda's influence, she could see the inside of her pussy, a slick red, peeking out from between those fat lips. As an experiment, she touched down there. It felt like an electric shock at first but then she got used to it, and then it just felt good. A little moan slipped out. Outside, she could hear the pair moving stuff around her apartment. She turned on the fan and sat down on top of the toilet seat, panties in a rolled-up bunch around one ankle. It didn't feel like it was her doing it. She was rubbing her clit in circles. She ran two fingers over her lips. She squeezed the fatty outer flesh, then moved in the center to rub them back and forth, back and forth. And she was watching MirandBod move on Instagram. The mover was wearing short shorts and a sports bra as she sweated through a workout in a public gym.

Laura needed more.

For the first time, Laura pulled out her phone to look up porn. It wasn't like Laura was a prude. She'd had lots of sex with Jim in the beginning. She just wasn't the kind of girl to make it publicly known. She wasn't even the kind of person to engage with it on her own. As a result, she'd never looked up porn before. Before she could question what she was doing, she was already typing in "lesbian porn" in the search bar. Laura always knew that there was a lot of porn out there. The amount was still ridiculous. Hundreds of thousands of options to choose from. What surprised her was how slow a lot of the female-centric porn movies moved. There was a five or ten-minute plot at the beginning before anything sexual happened. She didn't need revving up; she was already at a level of arousal she hadn't known before. She needed to see it. A girl with a girl.

Instead of videos, she turned to GIFs. That was where she found what she wanted. It was sex between two women at the height of its eroticism. They were doing things in those videos that Laura had only heard mention of. Actresses parted their milky thighs for a blonde-haired girl to lick up the lovely pink slit between them. Older women wrapped their arms around young virgins to finger them from behind with grins of smug satisfaction. Two-ended dildos slid in and out of two plump asses in synchronous motion, both women throwing their butts back into each other to make the sex toy disappear. A stronger woman dominated the weaker with a seven-inch strap on like a man would. Laura's heart was pounding. Her pussy was gushing. She didn't know when, but somehow two of her fingers had been hooking in the inside of her vagina at a random point in her visual exploration of lesbianism.

A knock came at the bathroom door. "You okay in there?" It was Miranda.

"I-I'm alright!" Laura said nervously. She closed out of her gifs so she could flush the toilet and run the faucet all the faster. She actually did wash her hands this time.

When she came out, Miranda's confused face was there to greet her. "Are you alright? Your face looks really flushed."

Laura had the insane idea to tell her why. She didn't, though. "Just feeling under the weather. Do you mind if I lie down?"

"Of course I don't. Let's get you to your room."

Laura wanted Miranda to throw her across the bed. She wanted the bodybuilder to extend her tongue as far into her throbbing pussy as she could.

"I really have to lie down," Laura admitted. She was going crazy.

"When is your husband getting home?" asked Miranda as she set Laura down.

"Huh! Why are you asking?"

"To see who's going to look after you. You're ill."

Laura blinked. Of course, that's why she was asking. For a moment, Laura hoped... She thought... "Not tonight. I'm supposed to meet him there tomorrow night."

"That won't do. Don't you have anyone to stay with?"

"I don't."

"No family here."

"Not in this city."

"No friends?"

"I don't want to trouble them."

They sat together. They were uncomfortably (nicely) close. Laura had the insane thought of rimming Miranda's asshole. As soon as Laura thought that was insane, she had another fantasy of poking at the bodybuilder's clit with the end of her tongue.

"Crazy idea," Miranda began.

"I'm listening." At that moment, Laura was prepared to do anything Miranda suggested.

"Why don't you come back to my place tonight? I know we just met, but I don't know if it's such a good idea to sleep alone in this place. There's not even going to be a bed left."

Laura didn't feel like mentioning her air mattress. Just as she was going to nod, she hesitated. "Can I call my husband really quick?"

"Of course, whatever you need." The mover left to continue working.

Without her in the room, it was easier to think clearly. "Laura," she said to herself. "You were just masturbating to porn while random people were a door away. What's wrong with you? Seriously?"

Life had always been clean. Church on Sundays. Married the first guy who would have her. Move to the suburbs. She'd have kids... Now here she was fantasizing about filthy sex with a woman she'd known a total of three hours. What was she, a man?

Talking to Jim would set her straight. For all of their flaws as a married couple, they were married. That meant something. So Laura called. He didn't answer. She called again. No answer again. She called and called, each time receiving a voicemail message. She texted that she needed to talk to him. Nothing. After half an hour, she called again. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

He was with that other woman. He had to be.

Laura stopped trying. How long was she expected to hold up one half of a relationship? How long could she be expected to keep trying?

Miranda poked her head of sandy curls in. "Did you manage to get through?"

"Yes," Laura lied. "We're good. I'll come over if you'll have me."

"No trouble. It'll even be fun."

Laura smiled. Even though Miranda probably didn't feel the same way, it was nice to be around her. Maybe one day she could learn something from her self-possession.

The rest of the day went along smoothly. With Phil's bulk and Miranda's grace, the entire apartment sat orderly in the back of their moving van. Phil left them alone, taking the van to their company garage to stow away for the night before the trip to the suburbs in the morning. From then on, it was just Miranda and Laura.

They ate some Chinese before walking up to Miranda's apartment downtown. It was small and messy, yet clean in a real way. No germs, just disorganization. To be the most generous, Miranda's apartment was set up in a cozy maximalist style. The couch was littered with blankets and pillows.

"This is a nice place," Laura said politely. She felt at odds with the cramped surroundings. A lot of the heat from the afternoon before had ebbed away. Now she felt strange. She was in a stranger's apartment planning... what exactly? Now that she was here, all of that seemed even more insane.

"You don't have to be nice," replied Miranda. "It's a mess. I like to keep it a hygienic one, though. A drink? It doesn't have to be water."

"Do you have wine?"

"Do I have wine?" Miranda said coyly. She opened a cabinet with an assortment of red and white bottles. "Yes, I do."

They poured a bottle of champagne.

Miranda sighed. "That wasn't that bad. Your apartment. I've had to move worse."

"I'm glad."

They each took a sip.

"Welp," said Miranda. "About time I took a shower."

Laura was disappointed. Miranda was full of that sweet sweat scent.