My Mind is Gone

I don't even notice when Cammie walks in. I'm telling myself that I can't go to bed yet, not without fucking up my sleep schedule something awful, but my eyes aren't listening to me as well as they did even a few hours ago. The television keeps jumping from one scene to the next and sometimes all the way to another show, and I'm well past the point where caffeine is doing anything for me. Cammie takes one look at me and says, "Why aren't you asleep, girl?"

My response is to flinch in surprise, whiplash my head in her general direction, stare at her like she teleported into the living room, and say, "Huh?" It's not exactly my finest moment, but my mind is gone. I have used up all my thinking brains for the day, and all I'm doing is running out the clock until it's eight (my arbitrary cut-off separating "going to bed early" from "falling over in the middle of the day and entering a sleep-deprivation induced coma") and I can collapse. Intelligent conversation is not happening.

And Cammie knows it. Even if she hadn't been witness to my epic life-or-death struggle against the forces of Finals, Asshole Bosses Who Won't Let Me Have Any Time Off, and Sister's Wedding In Eau Claire, the dark circles under my eyes and my slack facial expression would have made it clear. "Viv," she says, "I'm serious. Why aren't you already asleep?"

There's a physical lag between the time the words enter my brain and the time I manage to process them. My thoughts are so slow now that I can actually experience them slowly clicking into place, first the understanding of what she's suggesting ("Oh, she wants me to go to bed because I'm so tired") and then the sluggish realization that I've already asked myself that same question half a dozen times and come to the same conclusion each time, and then finally the solid thunk as I remember that I need to explain it to her in words.

"Can't," I say at last. "If I go to bed now, I'll just wake up in the middle of the night and then I'll be tired all day tomorrow, too. I'm just gonna stay up..." I squint at the clock, but my eyes refuse to focus. "...a few more hours, and then I can sleep," I finish vaguely. A couple seconds after I stop talking, I finally tune in on the clock. It's only five thirty. I have to be up until eight. That's...I don't even do the math, in my head it's just UGH more hours.

Cammie looks at me again, staring at the TV vacantly like the kind of person who actually buys 'As Seen On TV' merchandise. (Okay, I admit, the slushie maker looked kind of useful, but I didn't actually buy it or anything.) (I couldn't find my phone.) "You are crazy, kiddo," she says at last. "Alright, then. When did you eat last?"

I search my memory. Most of it is 404 errors right now. "Um..." I mutter, trying to figure out whether the peanut butter sandwich I made myself was twelve hours ago or fourteen hours ago. "A while ago?" I say at last, hoping that at least placates her enough that she stops asking me the hard questions. This morning I was writing essays on the role of succession in determining the course of the Ottoman Empire, now I'm punting on when I ate my last meal. I don't think I've ever been this tired in my life.

It's not good enough. "Pizza it is, then," she says, pulling out her phone and texting an order for delivery. She sits down on the couch next to me. "If you're really going to do this, I guess I better keep an eye on you to help you stay awake and make sure you don't drown in the shower or something." She looks over at the television, which is now running a marathon of 'Three's Company' instead of the old 'Wonder Woman' episodes that were playing the last time I was paying attention. "But give me the remote, okay? You're not even safe to watch cable right now."

I hand it over meekly and slump back onto the couch cushions. "Ah ah ah ah ah!" she says, pulling me up into a seated position. "No flopping, no lounging, no leaning. Upright and eyes open, got it?" She's trying to sound stern, but Cammie doesn't do 'stern' well. It's like being lectured by a pixie. A pixie without wings, but if you asked an animator to draw you a biracial pixie for the other pixies to hang out with to promote diversity in your pixie cartoon, you would totally get Cammie. Big floofy cartoon hair, snub nose, rounded cheeks, and eyes that look too big for her head. All she needs is the wings.

I realize that I'm just staring into space, sleeping with my eyes open and dreaming of the wacky adventures of Cammie the Pixie and her pixie friends, and I slowly drag myself back to reality. "What are we watching?" I ask, not so much out of actual interest as to keep my mouth moving because it's harder to fall asleep when you're talking.

"MST3K," she says. "You're not up for following anything with a real plot." I don't even try to argue. Instead, I just stare vacantly at the screen, trying to follow the muddy black-and-white antics of a bunch of people mumbling at each other. It might as well be in Swedish for all I can tell.

Cammie tries to keep me engaged in the movie, but it's not really working. I just sort of nod at whatever she says, laugh when she laughs, and watch the oily guy with the pencil-thin mustache who seems to be the villain talk about past lives and reincarnation and the other guy mumble at him. It's all bouncing off. The only bit I really understand is when Cammie pauses it to go answer the doorbell.

I must have lost some time around then, because the next thing I know she's putting a plate in front of me with a couple of slices of pepperoni on it and saying, "Eat." I normally pick off the pepperoni-that's why we get it, because I like cheese and she likes meat and the only place within delivery range can't get "half cheese" right to save their lives-but right now I'm so tired and hungry that I just chow down. She gives me a funny look, but she doesn't say anything.

I was kind of hoping that the food would wake me up a little, but all it does is trigger a strong desire for a post-meal nap. Cammie doesn't let it happen, though. When my eyes start to slip shut, she snaps her fingers at me five or six times and says, "Come on now, stay with me!" in a tone that's half coaxing, half gym teacher.

I open my eyes as wide as I can, but it doesn't take long before my eyelids start drooping again and my jaw goes slack. The movie keeps going-there's something about a stage act, and the mumbly guy is angry-mumbling at the oily guy, but I've lost the plot. Then again, given the quality of the movie, it may not just be me. I still have at least an hour and a half to go until eight, though.

About the third time I slump onto Cammie, she sighs in frustration. "Stand up," she says, a touch of exasperation in her voice. I don't even think about it anymore, I just do it. My legs wobble a little under me, but I manage not to fall over. I do yawn a few times, though, and my blink turns into a half-blink as my eyes refuse to open again. I'm sure I'm still watching television, but in my head the movie is gradually changing from black and white to color and all the characters are freaking out-

"Ah ah ah!" Cammie says again, snapping her fingers right next to my ear. My eyes open, but I don't really see anything. I can't get them to focus. It's just a blur far away and a blur close up and random objects in perfect focus in the middle distance. "Come on," she says, "let's walk a little." She takes my hand and guides me around the room. I can just about manage to put one foot in front of the other, but it doesn't really register where we're going or why. I'm too zombified to care.

Cammie looks at me. "Still with me, Viv?" she asks, waving a hand in front of my face. I mumble back something affirmative, but my eyes don't follow the motion of her fingers. "Anybody home?" Again, I just sort of mutter a vague 'mmhmm' noise at her, responding to the sound of her voice but nothing else.

Cammie bites her lip a little at that. I see it, but I don't really notice it. "Okay, Viv, raise your hands above your head for me now," she says. I lift my arms up, feeling them sway gently as I try to hold them in place with muscles that are only loosely following my instructions. I don't know why this is going to help me stay awake, but I've pretty much ceded the argument to Cammie on that one at this point. If it was left to me, I'd be having Jack Tripper nightmares on the couch right now, so I'm just letting her take charge. I'm awake in name only, really.

She takes my hand again, pushing both of them down so that they stand out in front of me like the girl in the movie and walking me to my bedroom. I wonder loosely if this means that it's eight o'clock now, but that's about as much thought as I can give to the whole process. She's holding my hand, I'm walking where she wants me to walk. I'm okay with that. I'm okay with pretty much anything.

When we get into my room, she sits down on the bed and gives me a look I haven't seen on her before. If I were more awake, I'd wonder what it means, but right now it just means she's looking at me and I'm there to be looked at. "Take off your clothes," she says, sounding hesitant for the first time since she got home and found me like this.

She doesn't need to. I'm not thinking about the fact that this is the first time Cammie has ever seen me naked, I'm not thinking about whether she's going to notice the weird birthmark on my hip that I'm always really careful to make sure my swimsuits cover, I'm not thinking about whether she's okay with the fact that I don't shave between my legs and I've got a little tuft of downy blonde hair covering my mound. I'm not thinking at all. I pull my clothes off and toss them into a heap on the floor without any involvement from my conscious mind at all.

"Hoo boy," Cammie says, looking at me like she didn't really expect that to work and she doesn't know what to do now that it did. But she's also looking at me. She's looking up and down my body like it's all so good she doesn't know what to stare at first, like she's hungry and thirsty all at the same time and I'm exactly what she wants, and if I was more awake it's right about here that I'd probably realize why she's never brought home any boyfriends and why so much of her movie collection is full of thrillers about evil hypnotists and the women who get drawn into their power and become blank-eyed and helpless.

But I'm not awake at all. Not really. So when she says, "Play with your breasts, Vivian," I don't think about it at all. I just cup my tits in my hands and start strumming my nipples until they stand up stiff and hard under my thumbs.

It feels amazing. I don't have anything in my head distracting me, nothing keeping the pleasure from lighting up my whole mind and my whole body with arousal. There's no lingering worries about papers I should be working on or guilt left over from my Catholic childhood or panic over whether I'm being loud enough for Cammie to hear me. All I can feel right now is bliss. My mouth hangs open and a shuddery moan escapes my lips, but I don't care.

"That's it, Viv," Cammie says, sounding like she's soothing a stray pet. "You just keep right on going. Just do what feels good for me, sweetheart." She slides off the bed and onto her knees, leaning forward to nuzzle her face against my bush. I hear her over the sound of my own whimpers, purring like a kitten as she inhales my scent. I feel her soft cheek stroking my sensitive skin, and I shiver all over.

She licks like a kitten, too, quick little brush strokes of her tongue against my pussy lips. My moans blend together into one long exhalation of desire as she spreads me open and finds my clit, tasting my arousal and spiking it further with each flick of her careful tongue. I feel her breath on my cunt and it makes me ache for more. I don't know if I'd have the nerve if I was awake, but I also don't know if I could stop myself right now either.

She cups my ass with her hands, pulling me close and licking harder, deeper, her tongue fucking me like a little cock as she moves my hips for me. I don't really register any of it-all I'm aware of is sensation, nipples tingling, clit throbbing, pussy wet. My eyes are closed again, but I'm in no danger of sleeping anymore. I'm too turned on to sleep. If I have any thoughts at all, it's only that I wish I'd thought of this two hours ago.

I'm shaking with arousal now, unable to stop Cammie, unable to stop myself. She's guiding me in every sense of the word, finding just the right places to lick, moving my body for me, whispering to me whenever she can pull her mouth away from my pussy to remind me that I'm a good girl, that this feels so wonderful, that it's so nice to let my thoughts go and give in to the pleasure. I don't really notice the words, they're just sound to me, but I hear myself whimpering out my agreement to whatever it is she's saying. Whatever it is she wants me to do, I want to do it.

She says something else to me, and I don't know what it is but suddenly I'm cumming. I grind my pussy against her face, my moans taking on a hoarse, desperate quality as I feel the orgasm hit. She keeps going, working her tongue over my clit again and again as I cum and cum, harder than I ever have before, and I can see her great big pixie eyes framed by my thighs as I quiver in ecstasy. She's so aroused by this. She's so turned on. She's wanted this forever. She's wanted me, she's wanted a sleepy girl who listened to instructions, and having both together is her every fantasy fulfilled. I feel so happy seeing her face like this.

When I finally come down, I'm even drowsier than before. I don't think at all when she pulls her own clothes off and lies back on my bed, guiding me down between her legs to lick at her slick, sopping slit. I'm living a waking dream, an erotic fantasy that somehow seems real of going down on my roommate and making her cum with my mouth, my fingers, and my obedience, and I don't need to remember it as anything but that. It's just my sexy dream, one I can come back to anytime I want, one I can relive every night before I sleep for real. Until the night when I can't stop myself from telling Cammie all about it. That's going to be the best night of all.

I don't know how long I eat her out, but at some point she realizes that I'm past the point where even being a good girl for her can keep me awake. She hears me half-snore into her pussy, my tongue barely even able to wiggle now for her, and she tucks me into bed. "Good night, Viv," she whispers, giving me a little kiss on the cheek, and I squirm happily under the covers for a moment before even my thoughtless thoughts give out and I plummet into blackness. I'm not sure why, but somehow know that I'm going to have the best sleep of my life.

THE END