"Can I ask you a question?"
Quinn slid a slender finger up to press against those lips. To silence them in their rambling because this wasn't the time for talking. She just needed to feel something because it hurt too bad to not feel anything at all. And so with a heavy head she shook it from side to side slowly, almost imperceptibly, as she hummed a dejected "no" against a hardened nipple – taking it in her mouth to paint a picture of silence and remorse.
And it worked, didn't it? The blonde closed her eyes, effectively blocking out all thought and concern as her tongue worked against that ripened peak, pulsing over it back and forth before letting go with a quiet pop only to move farther south – skating over tan skin that didn't belong, and kissing against freckles that she tried her hardest to forget. Her hair fell over her face and fanned out against the warm body beneath her and she sighed as she reached the apex of thighs. Holding back a grimace as she brought her warm mouth down to trace the wetness there.
The taste wasn't right. It wasn't bad, no. But it wasn't what she wanted – She was settling, and she knew it. But it didn't help her case – and so she pulled and sucked and moaned and prodded in all of the right places, her fingers entering the fray to pulse in and out of this unknown space - working diligently as the mews and moans beneath her grew in frequency and pace.
She heard from above her working mouth – she flinched at the clouded, heavy lust-filled voice. Her heart breaking even more at its unfamiliarity and it's uselessness. But she continued her ministrations, faking delight – until her slender fingers gripped too-wide hips and skirted across a small tattoo along a thigh. It was a small shooting star and just as the realization sparked – the damn overflowed and spilled over. And suddenly Quinn couldn't hold it together anymore as the tears threatened to come.
Because as she stared at the small tattoo she realized that she couldn't run anymore – and it was as if a sign or a beacon had been placed right into her crumbling heart. And she couldn't let her floundering show, and so she worked and she worked at the clit before her mouth. Teasing it and licking it with all of her strength – forcing her fears into the background; and as the girl beneath her writhed and bucked with her orgasm. Quinn couldn't help but rest her tired form against the strange skin. Sighing into it as her senses over came her.
A breath against the skin that had so reminded her of the brunette at first – but now only sparked its many differences from the real thing. And before she could fall back or take her red-hot word away she felt the warm skin recoil, and she heard the unfamiliar voice stab accusing diatribe into the cold air.
"What did you call me?"
She sighed against the retreating skin again – not privy to give away her secrets and her shame – and then a sharp hand was coming down against her porcelain cheek – knocking her pride back, and shocking her out of her reverie. She turned sharp eyes to the girl before her, who was now retreating angrily from the blonde's wavering hold. Quinn watched with bright eyes and an open mouth as the girl pulled dejected clothing over strange tan skin – not at all like Rachel's.
And before the door could slam in her face – the stinging words echoed across the dark room before the resounding bang of wood on metal.
"My fucking name is Lauren."
And as the reality set in, that this girl wasn't Rachel – and would never be Rachel, the blonde fell to the floor in sobs – wracking her mind with every way that she could have possibly gone wrong.