I only felt slightly bad for lusting constantly after my roommate, Rachael. Not because she was my roommate, but because she was dating my other roommate, Andrew. Although, given the frequency of their fights lately, I didn't know how much longer that would last. Plus, he was kind of a tool - not in an aggressive asshole way, just in a waste of space way. I knew she could do better, e.g. me; so scenarios wherein she did better paraded through my brain regularly.
I was engrossed in one of those scenarios while I pulled things from my fridge on a summer evening. I had a set schedule while Andrew and Rachael both worked shift jobs any time from morning to midnight, so I rarely planned meals with them. I was expecting to eat my greek chicken salad in peaceful solace when I heard the front door of the house we rented open and close. Instead of one or both of my roommates, my friend Emily wandered into the kitchen.
Emily reminded me of my first love, a pale redhead named Kara. But while Kara's mahogany red hair was embellished with chemistry, Emily's was the natural shimmering copper of an Irish lass, accompanied by a creamy complexion and armloads of freckles.
"Craaaig, I'm boooored," she sang, hugging me from behind and craning her neck to look around my arm while her vanilla perfume filled the air. "Ooohh, and hungry." One thing about Emily that was very different from Kara, and very obvious when she pressed herself against my back - Emily was stacked. She didn't have much ass, but her tits arrived wherever she was going a quantifiable time before the rest of her. I'd had plenty of fantasies about Emily as well, but I was usually behind her in those.
It's tough to buy ingredients for one salad, so I'd expected to eat the same thing for several days. Always happy to have other people for whom to cook, I said, "I have plenty. Wanna join me?"
"Uh, duh. I'll grab bowls and stuff."
"Thanks, hun."
As she clattered about in the kitchen cabinets, the front door opened and closed again. "Jobs are dumb!" announced Rachael's twinkling voice as her booted feet clomped up the stairs to the second floor, which held our bedrooms and the main bathroom.
I turned to Emily to ask her to prepare a third place setting. As she stretched upward, a hint of a grey Victoria's Secret thong peaked out between the hem of her navy blue tank top and the waistband of her khaki shorts. A new scenario blossomed in my mind, one I hadn't previously considered.
"Wanna do something fun and repay me for dinner at the same time?" I asked her.
"Sure," she replied with a curious smile.
"Good. Take off your bra. You can whip 'em out or do the magic bra trick. I'm not trying to get you topless, just braless." Never one to shy away from a little adventure, she pulled her arms inside her shirt, twisted them up behind her, and deftly removed her bra from one sleeve.
I quickly hid it on top of one of the cabinets. As I brushed years of dust from my hands, I promised I'd wash it for her later. "Rachael will probably be down shortly looking for food. I want you to ask her to join us, but be a flirty little slut about it." I knew Emily had had boyfriends and girlfriends in the past, so I wasn't asking her to do anything she'd never done before.
"And if she says no?"
"One, she loves my cooking. Two, I know how persuasive you can be. And three, more salad for us."
"Win-win, cool," she offered, nodding.
"After she says yes, lead her to the dining room to the far side of the table where you will have set two places, with mine on the other side. While we eat, feel free to keep one hand on her thigh."
Her smile sparkled as she scooped up three place settings. She wiggled her butt at me, winking over her shoulder, as she left the room.
My prescience was on full display when the stairs creaked under Rachael less than five minutes later, accompanied by a jangle of dangling jewelry. Emily moved toward the entry to the kitchen to ensure she had the chance to intercept Rachael, and I busied myself on the other side of the room to chop and toss salad ingredients into a large, stainless steel bowl.
"Oh, hey, Emily," Rachael said with the smallest hint of surprise in her voice. I didn't know if that came from surprise at seeing her or seeing her obviously not wearing a bra.
"Heeey, Rachael," Emily cooed as she glided toward her, just close enough to be too close for a simple greeting. Her hand brushing her hair back from her own neck distracted Rachael from the other hand she stretched out to land just above Rachael's hip. "Wanna join us for dinner?"
Rachael's eyes swiveled wildly, but Emily was the consummate flirt. Being physically affectionate was hardly unusual for her, and her broad, toothy smile was instantly disarming. Trepidation quickly boiled away in the face of a home-cooked meal. "Sounds great."
Emily stepped closer and hugged her, pressing her unrestrained breasts against Rachael's stomach. Unlikely as it was, Rachael's tits were even bigger than Emily's. Unlike Emily's battle ax body, Rachael was much more of an hourglass. Thanks to Rachael's bra, her v-neck shirt, and their height disparity, Emily was treated to a face full of cleavage. Emily's hand on Rachael's hip slid up to Rachael's arm and down to her hand as the short redhead led my roommate into our small dining room.
I like to do a little tableside prep when I have an audience, so I followed them with a large, shiny steel bowl of veggies and feta, and a cutting board that held chopped chicken, a bottle of dressing, and a plate of pita bread wedges.
