Author: IM Libertine Title: Amber: My Friend, My Sitter, My Lover - A not so innocent tale of growing up. Part: Chapter 2 Summary: Amber cheers up a morose Monica. Keywords: Ff(13) tickling, no sex ©2014 IM Libertine All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to the author, subject "Attention: Permissions Coordinator," at the address below. Libertine SPB im_libertine@hushmail.com This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Chapter 2 Catching Up "If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter. " ―Markus Zusak, The Book Thief Friday morning came. Mom and Dad were packed, suitcases and boxes of books stuffed in the trunk of our old VW Passat. I was in the living room, seated on the boxy, white sofa and trying to watch reruns on the cartoon channel. Well, really I was staring out the living room window, watching for Amber to come walking up the drive. Earlier, Mom and Dad had given me a list of Dos and Don'ts. No parties and, at the bottom of the list, in big, capital letters, ABOSLUTELY NO BOYS. I sighed. When it came to dos and don'ts, Mom was practically psychic. I crossed the coed party off my mental list. I could hear them in the kitchen, talking about something or other. They came into the living room, Dad wearing a rumpled business suit and Mom in a slate gray pants suit. Mom was saying, "She was supposed to be here half an hour ago." Dad nodded, said, "I know, hon, I know. Don't get so upset. She'll be here." "Yeah," I chipped in, "She'll be here Mom." Mom let out an exasperated sigh. "Great, wonderful, she'll be here. When? We need to go. Now." "Did you call," I asked. "Of course," Mom replied, "No answer." "Well, she probably on her way here now," Dad said, trying his best to calm her. Mom didn't look like she was buying it. She was one of those people who believes promptness is a virtue. I leaned back on the sofa, trying to filter out the sound of my parents bickering. Moments later there was a knock at the front door. I was on my feet in a heartbeat and raced for the door, snatching it open. There, on the doorstep, stood Amber. I just stared at her for a few seconds. She was about a head taller than I was; her hair the same chocolate brown, slightly longer than I remembered. Deep brown, expressive eyes. Slightly tanned, olive skin beneath an off-white t-shirt. Faded jeans, torn at the knees. Amber's lips curled into a grin as I gawked. "Hi," she said. "Oh!," I replied, idiot like. From behind me I heard Dad say, "Amber, so glad you could make it!" Mom's hand landed on my shoulder and maneuvered me out of the doorway so that she and Dad could get past. "Yes," Mom said, her voice dry, "So, glad. Come on Ron, we're late." Mom shuffled by, Dad in tow. "Have fun, girls," Dad said, utterly unconcerned by Mom's foul mood. "Try not to burn down the house or anything." Mom jerked open the car door and slid in, paused long enough to give us a stern look and say, "And no boys," then slammed the door. Then they were off, Mom breaking all of the speed limits. I looked at Amber. She looked at me, an eyebrow arched. "Is she mad?" "Well, um..." I said, trying to find a nice way to put it, "They kinda expected you to be here a while ago." "Oooh," Amber said with a grimace. "She is mad." "What happened," I asked. "My mom giving me the 'Don't do anything stupid' lecture," Amber said with a roll of her eyes. "You mom still lectures you?" I asked, mildly amused at the thought. "Yep. Twenty-two years old and I still get the little girl treatment." I stepped inside the house, Amber right behind me. "So, where should I put my bag," she asked, indicating the carry on bag hanging off of her right shoulder. "In my room," I said, and led the way upstairs. In my room, Amber dropped her bag at the foot of my bed and gave the room a once over. I'll be the first to admit that my room isn't much to look at. Off-white walls, beige carpeting, a single window near the head of the twin sized bed frame which was framed by baby-blue and white, plaid curtains. The bed was covered with a denim patchwork blanket sewn together by my grandmother. The only other furniture was the dresser and my desk. "Nice," Amber said. "You're kidding," I replied. "No. It's a nice room. Comfy." "It's plain," I said, sitting down in my desk chair and turning to face Amber, who had taken a seat on my bed. "Well, maybe I like plain," Amber said. She leaned back on her elbows; I couldn't help but notice how her t-shirt pulled tight over her breasts. I couldn't help but appreciate them, each perfect, the size of a softball. I also noticed that her t-shirt had risen slightly above the top of her jeans, showing off a sliver of tanned skin. "Yeah, well, I hate it," I muttered. I leaned back in my chair and tried to copy her pose. Nothing to see here, I mused, staring down my flat chest. "You could do something about it," Amber said mildly. She stood up from the bed and came to me, took my hands and pulled me out of the chair. She put an arm around my shoulders and led me around the room. "A poster or two here," She said, indicating the space above my desk, "A picture over there," turning me around to point at the space above my dresser, "And over there, an oriental wall hanging." Her voice lowered an octave and she started pitching like a carnival barker. "We could get you a couple of stuffed animals, my girl, toss 'em on that bed over there, a lamp in that there corner; lovely idea, isn't it, just lovely; add a splash of color to any room; then we install mirrors on the ceiling, makes you feel like you're walking on air! An then..." I couldn't help but smile at her antics, and let out a giggle. Amber turned, put both arms around me and gave me a squeeze. She rested her chin on top of my head and said, "That's more like it. You always did have a great smile." I wrapped my arms around her waist and returned the hug, resting my head against her chest, my ear at the hollow of her throat. "Thanks," I said. I felt and heard her pulse quicken. She kissed the top of my head, then took me by the shoulders and pulled away. "No problem," she said, her voice low. She looked a little flushed. "Always glad to cheer up a friend. ♥♥♥ We were on the sofa in the living room. "Come on," Amber hissed, "Just let me do it." "No," I replied, "Not again!" "It'll be over real quick, I promise." I cried out as she continued her assault. Thinking fast, I jabbed an elbow into her ribs. "Hey, no cheating," she growled. "It's called self defense," I returned. Amber nudged me with her shoulder, breaking my concentration for a split second. She whooped triumphantly as the announcer shouted, "KO!" I tossed the controller to the floor. It was the third time she'd beaten me, and I was fuming. "You always use that character," I complained. "It's not fair." "You wanna trade?" Amber asked, her voice amused. I grumbled. I knew the reason she won every time wasn't because of the character. I picked up the dropped controller and hit the start button. "One more time," I said. "You got it, little sis." We played three more matches; I lost each of them. I fell back against the sofa. "How did you get so good," I asked. "Lot's of practice," Amber said as she leaned forward and flipped the switch on the console. The television screen flickered, then turned bright blue. She leaned back against the sofa as well and gave me friendly push. "But hey, you're not so bad. You had me on the ropes there a couple of times." "Sure," I said, giving her a sidelong glance. "Tell me another." Amber growled and launched herself at me. I squealed as she wrapped me up in her arms and push me over, then laughed as she mockingly bit at my neck. "Girl, you're so cute I could eat you," she said, then slid her arms from around me and found my armpits. "No!" I cried as she began to tickle. I roared laughter, kicked and squirmed. Amber laughed along with me and moved her hands to my ribs, continuing the torture. I rolled, trying to escape, but she quickly repositioned her hands just above my hips. "Stop," I cried, half wishing she wouldn't. I had been so long since I'd been tickled that part of me wanted her to keep on going until I passed out. I rolled again, laughing hysterically. Amber's hands went lower, grabbing my thighs just below my crotch, fingers wiggling. She sat down on my calves, preventing me from kicking her off. I continued laughing, my thighs being just as ticklish as the other parts she had assaulted. Then I felt a thumb rub against the crotch of my shorts. "Pervert," I giggled, still laughing. Suddenly the tickling stopped, and Amber's weight disappeared from my legs. She slid over, still laughing a bit. "Ugh, you're terrible," I gasped as I tried to catch my breath. I heaved myself upright. Amber was looking out the window. "Sorry about that," she said. Her voice sounded odd, as if she were ashamed of something. I calculated quickly, then launched myself at her back. I wrapped my legs around her waist and shoved my hands under her armpits. Amber instantly stiffened. I applied my wiggling fingers to her, expecting laughter. What I got was an amused chuckle. "I'm not ticklish there, you know," she said. I redoubled my efforts, lowering my fingers to what I remembered to be her weak spot, just below her armpits at the sides of her breasts, but my efforts were blocked my the wings of her bra. Amber patiently waited for the assault to begin, confident, I assumed, in her ability to withstand whatever tactic I used. I bit my lower lip and quickly considered my next move. It was pervy, but the feeling of her thumb rubbing against my crotch was fresh in my memory. If she wanted to play that way... I quickly slipped my hands under her shirt. Amber gasped, "Hey, what," but never got to complete the sentence. I forced my fingers under her bra and tickled. Amber let out a whoop and tried to buck me off, but it wasn't happening. I clung to her back like a tick, my fingers working to the undersides of her breasts. "Stop it, you pervert," Amber gasped, still laughing. I had no intention of doing so. She dropped to the floor and rolled onto her back, trying to squish me, laughing all the while. I countered by twisting my hips and sliding around her waist until I was sitting on her belly, my hands still under her shirt. The action lifted her shirt, exposing her bra. "Cut it out," she whined, rolling again, trying to escape. I slid downward, my hands running over her ribs until I reached her waist. I assaulted her hips as she laughed. She shouted, "Demon child!" and tried to crawl away, her rear end vulnerable. I quickly reached under her and planted my fingers in her crotch. Amber flipped over, grabbed my hands. Her face was flushed, her eyes shiny with mirth and something else. She looked at me, her eyes locked on mine. "Do you," she gasped, "Have any idea what you're doing?" I suddenly realized that I too was gasping. My face felt feverish. The place between my thighs felt warm, slippery. I silently considered and had to admit that, yes, I had pretty much known exactly what I was doing.