In Good Taste [Part One]
Title: In Good Taste [Part One]
Pairing(s): YulTi
Rating/Genre: PG-13 + Language; Coming Out, Girl-Meets-Girl
Disclaimer: I don’t own Soshi. I don’t own anyone, in fact. All Fiction.
Warning(s): Some sorta-kinda graphic language, but not smut yet, thirsty people.
Author’s Notes: Didn’t I say I’d be back? With a pairing I haven’t focused on in a long time! LJ is a bit of a desert, yet here we go. Show some love so I know you’re still alive, too. Anons are free and able to comment~
Yuri
--
A sharp pair of scissors tended to alleviate the pain.
That is, scissors and a booklet of coupons.
At a ripe two in the morning, Kwon Yuri crept to the sturdy oak desk, switched on a single lamp, booted up her laptop, and snipped through multicolored rectangles of savings.
It was her ritual on nights like these. When her brain wouldn’t shut off; when the sting between her legs made sleep a distant memory. When fifteen percent off a hand lotion brand she wouldn’t use composed the 28-year-old. Through a nestled set of earbuds, she rewatched the latest episode of her favorite comedy, memorizing lines she and her best friend would recite back-and-forth for the next century.
The studio loft’s layout allowed ample sunlight (and currently, moonlight) as well as a proper floor space for post-party get togethers. Not optimal for privacy, though. Easily, she could see the arc of a furniture set, kitchenette, dining table. And Taekwoon.
Six feet of boyfriend lightly snored in their bed. Shirtless with his back to the lamp’s subdued glow. Hair as black as her own sloshed onto the blue of his pillow.
Twenty-one times. She’d slept with him twenty-one times and it hurt more and more every go. After the third round of his strong body stilling her breath, predating a hardness probing for entry, she pretended to enjoy sex. Taekwoon, as conscientious as possible, went out of his way to keep his touches tender. Didn’t make a difference. Feeling him-stretching within her like an invasive, benign growth-tempted her to join a convent. She hated sex.
Yuri smirked as the show’s lead actress spilt a plate of spaghetti onto her boss’ white linen pants.
Dating Taek had been easy. His timid smile, sky-grazing posture could make any girl with a pulse swoon. Yuri was no exception, lapsing into a mini heart attack when he introduced himself at a party. They did that disgusting thing where couples became inseparable, leading her to move in with him after years of deep courtship. On one hand, it helped her immensely to move out of that shoebox she once called home. On the other hand, close-quarters boosted intercourse to the top of his unspoken wishes.
She held off until she couldn’t, concerned about why she stalled for this long. Sure, her virgin status had played a part. Furthermore...
Yuri’s thoughts trailed back to the comedy. Her favorite character, the lead’s neurotic cousin, finally snagged more screen time lately. Her backstory as a closet otaku delivered all the humor promised. Yet, tonight (and nights prior), Yuri silently admired the actress’s droll expressions and the crinkles at her corners of her eyes and lips. She probably laughed often in real life. Yuri respected actresses who weren’t too vain to contort their faces, to lose their eyes in a hard chuckle.
In fact, this actress did ads for big label skincare products. Yuri flipped the 15%-off coupon in her fingers, reconsidering. Beauty stores normally handed out freebies by the purse-load and she wouldn’t mind supporting a fave. Sometimes, they threw in small posters of promoting stars and Yuri could get lucky...not that she’d tack it up anywhere.
Yuri appreciated beautiful women. How could she not? They were mainstays of every billboard, commercial, and even cutout forms at the shopping centers near her job. This appreciation had existed for ages. Though, admittedly, it had magnified since she and Taekwoon physically became one.
Taek took good care of Yuri, patiently pacing their lovemaking so she’d have days in-between to recover, attributing her discomfort to the newness of it all.
Something about her body being trespassed, filled with foreign flesh, sapped her tolerance for intimacy. It’d break Taekwoon’s heart to know how the likes of a kiss or accidental brush as her breast could prick tears to her eyes. Because Taek didn’t deserve to feel inadequate for shit wrong with her.
So, she kept at it. For Taekwoon. And to prove to herself that this was the right path. She shouldn’t have been getting squeamish over close contact. Her best friend, Sooyoung, swore the pain would turn into pleasure. Yet, Yuri still rejoiced the nights Taek was too spent to exert any sexual energy.
Yuri paused her show, tiptoed to the bed, and appraised her boyfriend. His sleepy face was a dream. Thick lips drawn into a pout, windswept hair soft and healthy.
She feared touching him. What if he woke up, found her awake, and initiated something? Once, he suggested oral-for either of them-and she hyperventilated. He hadn’t broached the topic since. Yuri’s visceral rejection flogged his feelings; she could tell.
Yuri stared, warring to want him. To want this. She wanted her body to ache with arousal and not need copious amounts of excuses, reassurance, and lubricant. Cringing, she crossed out the recurring image of Taek disposing of their used condoms. Knowing that’d happen again eventually. As soon as the end of the week.
She sighed and reclaimed her seat. Forecasts predicted much post-sex coupon clipping in her future. Nights of reflection and pining for ladies she’d never kiss.
...
“So, I push him away like, ‘I’m not interested’ and he asks, ‘Why not?’ because obviously my disgusted face was ineffective.” Sooyoung, Yuri’s best friend and coworker, blabbed away as she shoved a handful of mini ceramic gnomes onto a sales rack. “I’m not racist or anything, but ugly men should know better.”
Yuri grinned, spinning the little statues face-forward. “Ugly isn’t a race, Soo.”
“Duh, but he may not know.” The spindly woman stood to full height and patted dust onto her store apron.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Not really. That crowd was dead. A douche in a visor kept buying me drinks.”
“And you blessed him with a dance?”
Sooyoung shook her head, lively pinkish bob swishing like a Pantene ad. “Too ugly.”
“Racist.”
Giggling, they pushed their cart of emptied boxes to the massive arts and crafts store’s backroom. Work always went smoothly with a friend at her side. As of late, Yuri felt more at home restocking paint sets than in her and Taek’s apartment.
“Going out again this weekend?” Yuri asked as she unlatched the metal door to the compactor.
“You bet. Han has some homoerotic, clandestine trip with his bro-ish childhood buddies and I refuse to sit around like an old spinster.”
Sooyoung and her fiancé (who went by his surname-it just fit) of four months had an interesting dynamic. Somehow, the stars aligned for the two party animals to fall in love, move in together, and surprise their friends and family with an engagement. Unlike lovey turtledove couples, they spent their free days hitting up town separately. Sooyoung to her usual bars and clubs; Han in kind to his own. They planned to flap their social butterfly wings at full force until marriage’s ball and chain clamped onto eternity.
Yuri found it strange, often questioning the relationship in the first place. Sooyoung answered plainly, asserting that trust kept them bonded. After meeting through Taekwoon, they’d dated for two years without major roadblocks. She’d grown accustomed to going home to someone every night.
“You don’t question what he does on his trips?” Yuri asked. Taekwoon would never be down for a similar arrangement. Too loosey-goosey. “Han’s a flirt.”
Sooyoung smirked. “And I’m not?”
“He doesn’t mind?”
“My god, you need to exercise your freedom.” Sooyoung idly ripped a discarded label while Yuri unloaded the cart. “Why should we dictate each other’s lives? We’re not clergymen.”
“It was only a question.”
“One too many questions. Where’s Taek to deeply occupy your mouth?”
Hardly thinking, Yuri shuddered. “No, thanks.”
“Trouble ensues in Penetrationville, huh?”
Yuri knew their conversation would steer that way eventually. She bought herself time, pulling a lever for the boxes in the compactor to be crushed. “Nothing about it appeals to me, Soo. We should be all over each other and I’m faking orgasms.”
“Yikes.”
“Is it supposed to hurt that badly?”
Sooyoung scoped the area before lounging on a stack of recalled lawn ornaments. She patted the concrete lily pad next to her. “Sit. The doctor is in.”
As silly as it seemed, Yuri lived for her Choi Sooyoung-sanctioned sessions. Their perspectives differed, but it helped her think outside her timid bubble. She leaned into the gentle arm wrapped at her shoulder. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“Maybe you’re not wet enough. Try lube.”
Yuri groaned, pulling away. “We do.”
“Is he too long?”
“Soo...”
“Too wide?”
“It’s not about his size, Sooyoung.”
“Are you sure?” She raised a suggestive eyebrow. Apparently, Soo had settled on her own narrative.
“It’s beyond that. I don’t even want to kiss him anymore. When he gets undressed, I turn green because I assume we’re about to do it. I’m making myself ill.”
“Yikes,” Sooyoung repeated.
“Doesn’t help that we live together. I can’t escape it.”
“Stay at my place for a few. Tetris misses your belly rubs.”
Thinking about Sooyoung’s dopey bull terrier, Yuri tried to smile. She couldn’t. “Taek’s happy about taking us to the next level. Asking to go backwards is...”
“Out of the question.”
“Precisely.”
Sooyoung rested her chin upon her fist. Her statuesque thinking pose.
It was one of the moments Yuri remembered that her best friend was gorgeous. A pert, rounded nose. Healthy, nifty-colored hair. Long limbs. Huge, expressive eyes...
Ashamed, she redirected the gaze to her black mid-tops. “Hey, Dr. Choi.”
“Yes, patient?”
“Do you ever think about girls?”
Sooyoung squinted, eyes still trained ahead. “In what way?”
“You know. Sexually.”
“I’d fuck Natalie Dormer. Han calls her my ‘lesbian hall pass.’” Sooyoung met Yuri’s frown, titling her head. Realization slowly rearranged her expression. “Just because sex sucks with one guy doesn’t mean you’re gay.”
Yuri peered around the stockroom, thankful for the privacy. “Would you go out with a girl?”
“Would you?”
Her shins hit the concrete seat in irregular beats. “Possibly.”
“Hm,” Sooyoung replied, scratching her faux-doctor chin. “Then, you should explore that, no?”
Yuri lifted her dark eyebrows. “Explore what?”
“Women. You might be into girls, right? Or am I horribly off?”
“I...god, Soo.” Yuri shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Looks like you and I have plans this Saturday. Meet some lesbians and see if you’re even attracted to them. ‘Cus breaking up with Taek over nothing would make life awkward.”
Yuri’s pulse fluttered; this was moving too fast. “What if-”
The double doors to the room flew open. Both associates sprang to their feet, relieved to see Jea, their favorite manager, and not one of the hardass supervisors.
“Backup needed at the registers, you two,” the bespectacled women called with a smile. “Save the heart-to-heart for your lunch break.”
They grinned sheepishly, rushing past her. As they speed-walked through the huge expanse of Craftie’s Warehouse, Sooyoung nudged Yuri with an elbow. “How about her?”
“Jea?”
“She’s hot as the stoves I don’t use.”
“She’s like, forty-two.”
“Mature women are the sexiest.”
Yuri gritted through a smile at a passing customer. “Why do I regret telling you?”
“Too late. Might as well deal.” Sooyoung searched her shirt for the name tag she often misplaced. “This would be easier if you had a crush.”
They pivoted past a gathered row of carts. Yuri bowed apologies to Sowon, one of their younger coworkers.
Sooyoung waggled her brow. “How about her? She’s a flaky undergrad and you know they experiment.”
“I don’t like anyone yet.”
“Well, start fancying a chick and report back to me.”
Yuri couldn’t lie; her friend’s excitement brought on a curious, optimistic vigor. “I doubt it’s that simple.”
“It won’t be,” Sooyoung answered, dodging an extended line to her checkout station. “Can’t be any harder dwelling. Maybe you’re due back on the market.”
Yuri cheesed to herself as she scanned a canister of potpourri. Calling herself confused would be an understatement. She had potential heartbreak, a budding sexuality, and a search for...someone on the periphery. Uncharted territory. Thus, that taste of change gave her a smile for the rest of her shift.
...
Once Saturday rolled around, Yuri’s excitement morphed into jittery dread. Her week consisted of Sooyoung’s whispered ribbing, watching online clips from lesbian series, and remembering that Taekwoon didn’t deserve to be hurt. Her choices wouldn’t sting if Taek had a thundering temper or a jealous streak. Instead, his face lit up when she mentioned a club night. It’d cheer her up, he insisted.
Her boyfriend noticed her sunken mood. Of course he did.
A desire to settle her confusion clashed with guilt. Yuri couldn’t reason away her actress crush without some hard data. Quite possibly, her feelings towards television damsels were admiration. She’d been content with Taekwoon up until now. Why prematurely rock the boat?
“All ready?”
Yuri smiled into the bathroom mirror. Reflected, Taekwoon stood at the doorway in a loosened dress shirt and slacks. Partnering with a few alumni friends (including Han), a tech startup meant long work days and the occasional weekend overhaul. He, like Yuri, grew up in a home where money stayed tight. So, though the business took sufficient upticks in the past year, she recognized the emblem of his college track team on his burgundy socks.
Money hadn’t gone to his head. She liked that.
“Yul, you’re looking...” He tilted his head, arms crossed. “cute. Sure you’re dressed for dancing?”
Sooyoung, bless her eager ignorance, demanded Yuri to match the pictures she’d Googled of ‘baby dykes.’ Her rationale: Gay clubs were usually crawling with straight women; therefore, her best friend had to play up the gayness. A green light to ladies of the queer persuasion.
In a t-shirt and flannel, skinny jeans, and Chuck Taylors, Yuri cringed at being a walking stereotype. “I’m going for casual.”
He shrugged. “You’ve succeeded.”
“Too casual?”
“Nah,” he chuckled, flicking the brim of her backwards snapback. “This is in style, I guess.”
Yuri normally opted for a form-fitting dress and a bit of jewelry. However, it was a night of trying new things. “I wouldn’t know that stuff.”
“Neither would I.”
Taekwoon stepped closer as she inked on shaky strokes of liquid eyeliner. His fingers molded onto her hips and her clenched muscles prevented a jump. They were only his hands, she reminded herself.
“Yul?”
“Hm?”
“I’ll miss you.”
Now, her heart clenched, too. “It’ll be a few hours. Don’t fret.”
“Sooyoung will keep you all night.” Taek bent to peck her cheek, fingertips gently drifting. “Lately, you seem so gloomy. Fill up on Malibu Sunrises and dance ‘til it hurts, okay? I’ll wait up.”
Yuri twisted to face him. Searching his sharp eyes, smooth skin, lips plump enough to pretend...
She willed her eyes shut. Moments later, he closed the gap for a soft kiss.
Pretending was an option, right? With a healthy imagination, Taekwoon could become a tall, incredibly fit woman. She squeezed at his defined deltoids, nixing that. Too fit. Her hands wound into his hair, pulling him to her level. Despite his fleshy lips, they enveloped hers with a gusto she’d never consider feminine. He smelled like inkjet printer and a musky cologne-another setback.
He was a man. All man. No grey area of debate.
Yuri wanted to sob. How shitty of her to fantasize after he said he’d miss her. Crucially, she leaned into a forceful kiss-simultaneously apologizing and desperately digging for something that’ll switch her sexual appetite.
Rather, Yuri felt it rubbing against her leg. Clothed in his pants.
She made no sudden moves.
Praying, just praying for desire to surge through her. Like it was supposed to do.
But, her molecules didn’t reconstruct. The heterosexual being within didn’t burst from its depths to fuck her man. Rather, she counted to twenty in her head and coyly parted their moist lips. “Sooyoung’s waiting, Taek.”
Taekwoon sucked in a breath, rounding Yuri’s slim jaw with a thumb. “Or, we could finish what we’ve started.”
She smiled her most convincing. Conscious not to offend his oppressive closeness, his chest and hips and loving gaze. Wiping her chin, Yuri murmured, “Later.”
“Later,” he echoed. “Tell Soo I said hey.”
Yuri escaped his playful blocking and took to the door.
Later. She already abhorred ‘Later’.
...
Yuri realized she was too boring to be gay.
As her and Sooyoung’s cab parked across a purple beam-lit club swarmed by glitzy, rambunctious partiers, this epiphany hit her dead in the chest. Those people laughing, literally sparkling in their getups were confident. Open, unafraid. They had no need to shy behind walls and unsexable boyfriends.
Her jeans suddenly hugged too tightly. The flannel tied at her waist had roughed one too many washes; it was dull. As were her sneakers-worn at the soles from errand-running and hikes to the grocery. Greys, blacks, tans-nothing of notable color. Was her cap too tryhard? Makeup too heavy? Posture too upright?
“Damn, is that a guy or a girl?”
Yuri shivered from her panic to regard Sooyoung rooting cash from her clutch. “What?”
“That gigantic...somebody out there,” her friend drawled, summing her change in a scrawny hand. “They’ve gotta be over seven feet in those platforms.”
How could she focus on one amongst that line? It must have stretched around the block. And what if Sooyoung was right about its straight patrons? She could easily bump into a coworker or old classmate or-
“Let’s go somewhere else, Soo.”
Sooyoung looked up, bills and coins crunched awkwardly between her fingers. “Why?”
“It doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right.” Yuri’s eyes watered, begging her friend not to make a big deal out of the inconvenience. After a feeble glance at her failure of an outfit, she whimpered, “Take me to a normal club.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Sooyoung dropped the balled money to a lap barely covered in her red cocktail dress. “As you wish.”
Yuri drowned out Sooyoung’s exchange with their driver, the purr of the engine, the gay club receding into nothing, her pounding heart, and disappointment. She needed an expert. A guidebook. Or somebody to lead her through these complex steps, anyone in her corner who understood.
And mostly, she needed to get very, very drunk.
...
Yuri hardly tasted the rum in her cocktail. From the dance floor’s sidelines, she downed half the drink and watched happier people make good use of their weekend. A highly autotuned chart-topper drove the clubbers into ass-to-ass disharmony. Gyrating, vodka-held swaying, rhythm-less jumping-if only they knew how dumb they looked.
Though, Yuri was insanely jealous. They weren’t sulking and frustrated.
Sooyoung sucked a maraschino cherry from its stem. “If you want to go back-”
“I don’t,” Yuri rushed out. “It’s not me.” Stepping back, she gestured to her dykewear. “None of this is me. I’m a poser.”
“That’s the point.” Sooyoung explained when Yuri squinted doubt. “Do you honestly think ninety-nine percent of the people here with their colored contacts and bravado aren’t wearing a type of costume? They can be whoever they want to be. Reality sinks in Monday morning, but it’s worth the effort.”
“We’re lying to ourselves.”
“Kinda. Yul, try not being yourself tonight. You’re dressed the part.”
Yuri swallowed a harsh gulp, eyes watering. “How can I when I don’t even know part of myself?”
“You’re a work-in-progress. Pretty much everyone’s story. Don’t sweat the moment-embrace it.” Sooyoung’s eyes softened beneath the fan of false lashes. “Besides, grinding with a stranger isn’t cheating.”
On that philosophical note, a skinny dude-decked out in pastel country club shorts and a rose-patterned tee-surfaced out of thin air. Despite the reds and greens of his shirt and the darkness clubs loved so much, a prominent smattering of sweat visibly bled through. Yuri held in a gag.
“W-w-what’s uh, how goes it, ladies,” he stammered, clutching his beer bottle with both hands.
Sweat glistened from his skin, too. At his neck and, strangely, from his veined arms. He had to be at least six years their junior, judging by the shallow swagger in his gait.
Pretty, though. With a gentle jawline and doe-ish eyes like a girl.
A groan eased from Yuri’s throat. There she goes again, misgendering folks for her own agenda.
Maybe ditching the gay club was a mistake.
“Fresh meat,” Sooyoung said, crossing her legs so her dress’ hem rode up just right. “You’re so cute, I could sneak you in my pocket.”
The dude grinned dumbly, making a commendable effort not to gawp at her thighs. “Name’s Taehyung. New er, uh...new. To this club.”
Even the Tae- at the beginning of this name shook Yuri. She prayed this conversation would end immediately. The opposite happened.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Taehyung. I’m Hyojung.”
Fake names came easily to Choi Sooyoung. As an engaged woman more turned on by thrill than these thirsty bachelors, monikers set the boundaries. Nothing would come of Taehyung. Nor of the lineup of men who’ve approached before. Sooyoung partied, flirted, and expertly declined their advances and invitations to their homes.
Yuri wanted this talent.
“Stand over there.”
Taehyung spun on his toes, stare following her finger to a spot several feet away. “Why?”
Sooyoung licked her lips and gave him a onceover. “My friend and I are going to discuss whether you’re sexy enough for a dance.”
For the first time, Taehyung matched eyes with Yuri. In a weak bow, he asked, “N-now? I go-”
“Yes,” Sooyoung purred.
Taehyung hesitated-probably expecting a ‘sike’-and when neither woman broke into smiles, he obeyed.
“He reminds me of my high school crush,” Sooyoung murmured while she arced him a lecherous gaze. “He may be my charge tonight.”
“That flower boy?!” Yuri exclaimed. “He’s not your type at all.”
“I’m not hunting for a replacement Han. I need some fun and so do you.”
Yuri gulped the remainder of her cocktail as Sooyoung rose from her chair. Her friend spoke wisdom. Unconventional wisdom, but it affected her all the same. There she brooded, dressed like a gay movie extra, reassessing her doubts. Simultaneously angry and isolated in a venue built for pleasure, energy, escape.
She even considered two propositions. One of the guys smiled like Taekwoon and her heart skipped a beat. Because what she thought of as love had been flawed all along. So, why should this sexuality scare be any different? Clearly, she sucked at appreciating the man waiting up for her return. Probably cloaked in his dorky highwater pajama pants, streaming mecha anime on his iPad. Homey, warm, and safe.
Then, his excited ‘later’ echoed in Yuri’s mind.
Why couldn’t she want Taek and his body?
Smiling, she declined both invitations before cruising the bar. Hopefully, a stronger cocktail would tell her where she belonged.
...
Sooyoung returned four songs later, slick with sweat. With a nod, Yuri acknowledged Taehyung trailing behind her like a sopping puppy and wondered if most of sweat on her was his.
“Have you danced yet?” Sooyoung asked, inhaling a cup from the free water cooler.
Yuri eyed her empty glass. “No. Not feeling this scene.”
“My boy J texted me,” Taehyung volunteered, now devoid of timidity. “There’s a celebrity entourage at a club a block away. A rapper’s, he thinks. We could check it out.”
Sooyoung hit gold with this one. That woman shamelessly inhaled celebrity news and gossip in disturbing quantities. Stars practically twirled in her pupils. “Could your friend get us in?”
“Sure. His dad owns the place.”
Sooyoung clapped in an excited circle, drawing Yuri’s eyes to the deep wetness on her back. Ew, this guy was too moist.
“He could even sneak us into VIP,” Taehyung bragged.
“Yul, this is gonna be crazy!” Sooyoung flirtily slipped her fingers into Taehyung’s back pocket and squeezed. His groan came out more sexual than playful as he pawed at her waist.
Spending the rest of her night third-wheeling? Not Yuri’s idea of a good time.
Stretching her legs, Yuri faked an inelegant yawn. “I’ll turn in early.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Sooyoung whined. “The night is young!”
“And I’m old.”
“He’ll buy you drinks for the rest of the night.”
Taehyung mocked offense. “Is that all I am to you? A credit card and a good lay?”
Sooyoung coyly bumped their hips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Gullible, ignorant male. Trapped like the others in Sooyoung’s big, brown eyes and lithe figure. Yuri should warn him about his inevitable blue balls. “Take loads of pictures. I’m done for the night.” She bowed at Taehyung who appeared more than pleased. “Don’t try any funny business; she’s very dear to me.”
Sooyoung’s grin fell. “Will you be okay? Should I join you?”
“And miss out on the rapper? Never.” Yuri pulled Sooyoung into a hug, noticing how Taehyung kept a possessive, firm hand on her friend’s hip. “Will you be okay is the real question.”
“I’m safe, Yul. He’s of no consequence.”
“Love you.”
A wet kiss stuck to her ear. “Sorry I didn’t help.”
“You did,” Yuri whispered, nuzzling soft hair. “Some things I have to figure out on my own.”
Those words looped in Yuri’s head as she boarded one of the many cabs on neutral outside, matched eyes with the driver, and requested the opposite of her comfy heterosexual apartment. Her destination: that gay club.
Attempt number two.
...
If Sooyoung could pretend to be single for a night, Yuri could sit at a gay bar like a regular patron. Sitting helped her not to fidget. Not to bolt from the premises after every glance in her direction.
The inside of the club lived up to its line and cover fee. Light beams zigged and zagged across the masses, circular booths reminded her of futuristic space pods for interesting people, and the heavy activity distracted from her worn shoes and faded flannel. Their bartenders were too showoff-y, unfortunately. While marginally entertaining, it left her thirsty and much too sober to tackle her next task: asking a girl to dance.
Yuri wondered how many of the women here were straight. It’d kill her to approach the wrong person. Frustrating, really. Why couldn’t straight people leave this to the gays? Well, the gays and questioning women such as herself.
She raised a finger at a female bartender with three nose rings and a snake tattoo. Though the woman zipped by, it prompted Yuri to assess her ‘type’.
Probably less edgy than the bartender. She’d prefer those as lovely as the actresses in her drama, which set an unreasonably high bar. However, gathered by her shy glimpses into the crowd, this club didn’t lack beauties.
Were any of them lesbians?
“Here ya go, sweetheart.”
Yuri looked up at the seven-foot man-or-woman that Sooyoung pointed out earlier. From this short distance, she settled on biologically male, but chose to address the person as the singular ‘they.’ “Pardon me?”
They tossed a shimmery purple glass over their shoulder and behind their back like a fragile basketball, smiling with straight, white veneers. Expertly, they whipped up a light green cocktail that fizzled from a splash of carbonated lemon lime. Yuri bet it’d taste amazing, but-
“I didn’t order anything yet.”
“I know,” they drawled, placing the glass on a napkin. “It’s on the house. Compliments of pink halter over there.”
She followed the jut of their curly wig to a booth stuffed with women. Attractive women. And Pink Halter, finger-combing her jet-black hair while smiling wide as a canyon, showed Yuri that she had a type after all.
Yuri held her eyes, using all the faux confidence she could muster to sip the refreshing drink through a cutely pooched pout. Her admirer apparently enjoyed it since she giggled something fierce. Then, with a crook of her extended finger, she beckoned Yuri.
Thus, the baby dyke hopped off her stool and put Sooyoung’s advice to the test.
[A/N: Missed everyone!]There ya go! Hope it's interesting enough to keep you engaged. :3 I noticed I haven't really written a self-discovery, "omg am I gay?" story in a while. Plus, this was collecting MAD DUST and it deserves to see the light of day.
I missed y'all so muchhhhh. *playfully gyrates chest*
The well of soshi fiction may be drying, but I'm still here with wine and plenty of ice~~