“Welcome back, dear listeners. Or if you’re just joining us, welcome to it. Where it is feeling like the frozen end times out there! The city’s buried under an inch of ice, the airport’s been shut down since nine this morning and that’s, uhhh, fourteen hours now? Check my math, willya, Rach?”
“I can’t do math anymore,” Rachel’s deadpan delivery was always the perfect counterpoint to Frankie’s theatrical style.
“You’re right, Rach! Time’s got no meaning anymore! It’s just you and me in this studio, probably the last two human voices on earth! But seriously, listeners, EMS are asking everyone to stay home! The storm’s gonna move on by morning, just settle in for the night. I’m Frankie and with me, as always, is Rachel. We’re three hours in to our unplanned hosting marathon because we’re the only two people crazy enough to be here! You’re listening to WCRU-FM, Your College Crush. We have one space heater, half a bag of pretzels and enough coffee to kill a horse. We’re here all night keeping you company. Until Rach finally murders me for flirting on the air.”
“Oh my god, Frankie!” Rachel sounded exasperated but she couldn’t keep a hint of amusement out of her voice. They’d been inseparable since they met, the first week of high school, now, both students at Ashford College, working at the college radio together and roommates to top it off. Some of their long-term friends had started teasing them about being married.
“So for those of you who got your travel plans ruined by Old Man Winter today — I keep hearing today’s the busiest travel day of the year — how about we kick off this hour by reflecting on the stuff we are thankful for! Rach! Why don’t you start?” Frankie peered across the soundboard at Rachel with an expression of impish glee. They hadn’t talked about this during the news break and Frankie knew Rachel hated these kind of surprises.
“Frankie!” she replied, her face flushing as she tried to mentally steady herself. “Okay, fine, um, I’m thankful … the space heater is still working! Have you felt how cold it is in the hall?”
Frankie rolled her eyes dramatically and giggled into her mic, “Ugh, mid! Let me show you!” She leaned forward, over the desk locking eyes with Rachel. She pulled her mic right up to her lips and spoke in just above a whisper. “I’m thankful I’m here with my bestie and that I work with her every day.”
Rachel’s blush deepened and she felt her stomach flutter just a little. The way Frankie had looked at her. The way her voice sounded …
“Alright, I’ll go again,” Rachel said after clearing her throat. Her tone was a little uncertain now. “I’m thankful you talked me into applying here at Ashford so we —” she cut herself off quickly as the butterflies in her belly grew more active. “Um, still hang out,” she finished lamely.
Glancing up at Frankie, she was startled by the uncharacteristically disarmed smile. “There y’go!” she recovered quickly. “Let’s do this! I’m thankful for how you take care of me! You make sure I eat right, I do all my assignments, all that stuff! I’d be lost without you!”
Silence fell. The studio was decently sound-proofed; not even the howling winds and the punishing sleet reached the two women. Frankie’s eyes were wide with nervousness bordering on genuine fear. She could hardly believe she’d said those things out loud. Had she just blown up the longest, dearest friendship in her life?
“I’m thankful you’re the first person I see every morning and the last person I see every night,” Rachel said softly, though she could tell from the meters on the soundboard that her words had been picked up and carried to Frankie’s headphones.
Silence again. Far longer than it should have given they were still live on the air. Finally, Frankie recovered again and started speaking into her mic once more. “Alright, listeners, time for some music, let’s start of with, um, Wreck by Neko Case.”
The music started, Rachel flipped the switch, the red “ON AIR” light went off and she stood up from her chair. Frankie slowly removed her headphones but otherwise sat perfectly still as Rachel rounded the desk then stood in front of — over, really — Frankie.
“Rach?” she asked softly, her voice unsteady.
“Yeah,” she replied, gently pushing Frankie’s mic away, then sat in her lap, straddling Frankie’s thighs. “This okay?”
“Yeah.”
Frankie’s shirt came open slowly, Rachel’s nervous fingers undoing one button at a time. She shivered as she felt Frankie’s hands on her hips, then pulling her t-shirt out of her jeans. She broke into a teasing smile as the thick flannel shirt revealed enough for her to be certain.
“No bra?” Rachel asked and bit her lower lip softly.
“Laundry tomorrow,” Frankie replied, her hands gliding up Rachel’s bare skin, over her ribs, approaching those breasts Frankie had thought about so many times. “Mine aren’t big enough anyway,” she teased tenderly while freeing Rachel’s breasts from her bra, still beneath her t-shirt.
“They’re perfect,” Rachel whispered as she shifted, kissing a line down Frankie’s chest then taking one of her stiff nipples in her mouth. “You’re perfect,” she whispered before biting down on Frankie’s nipple firmly.
“Rach—” Frankie trailed off; trembling fingers exploring the warm swell of her best friend’s breasts. She made soft, yearning sound as her fingertips explored the stiff tips, getting to know all the little ridges and bumps of Rachel’s areola. Then, a sharp hiss as she felt Rachel’s fingers unbuttoning the front of her jeans. “No, Rach, I haven’t — I’m — it’s winter.”
Rachel stopped, confused and bordering on upset before she could follow Frankie’s thoughts, then she broke out into giggles. “Yeah, I’m not shaving either,” and with that, her fingers were where Rachel had so many times imagined they would be. Tight against Frankie’s mons by Frankie’s jeans and her underwear, exploring her coarse, dense curls, Rachel gasped with pent-up desire as she found that brilliant pearl just beneath her hood. “It’s okay?” she asked softly as she unconsciously ground herself against Frankie’s thighs.
“Oh fuck yes,” Frankie whispered back. Her hands were becoming clumsy on Rachel’s breasts as her excitement grew.
“Fuck, yes,” Rachel agreed and she began the slow, careful, reverential movement of her hand against Frankie’s crotch. Two fingers trapped Frankie’s clit between them as Rachel stroked. Slowly at first, then gradually speeding up as the studio filled with the sounds of lovemaking. Soft, urgent gasps and breaths as Rachel ground and stroked and Frankie squeezed and rocked her hips as much as her position would allow. Slick, beautiful, wet sounds as the women both barrelled toward ecstasy. Frankie accidentally kicked a water bottle under the desk and sent the metal cylinder clattering away but neither of them gave it any notice at all. Rachel was moaning, bent over and biting Frankie’s nape as her fingers worked furiously at Frankie’s clit. Frankie raked her oft-bitten nails over Rachel’s back and down her sides. She made a brief, futile attempt to get her hands down the back of Rachel’s jeans before she was finally lost.
“RACH! Rach-Rach-Rach!” Frankie whimpered and in response Rachel moved her hand ever faster, her fingers pinching tighter and sucked hard enough on the tender skin on Frankie’s neck it was sure to leave a mark. Rachel had marked her. Frankie couldn’t be happier.
“Sorry about the dead air, dear listeners,” Frankie purred into her mic. “Fear not, Rachel and I are still here on this stormy, stormy night.”
“That’s right, Frankie,” Rachel purred right back, beaming at her from across the sound board. “Just us two, all night.”
