Sorry I disappeared for a while! I ended up having to work a heap over the holidays. But I'm back into the swing of things now. Anyway i hope you like this chapter, and thanks so much for all the kind reviews :) I swear I wasn't fishing for reviews last chapter! Just not experienced writing stories, so a bit apprehensive about how people might receive this one. This chapter hopefully explains Santana a little more, last chapter a couple people seemed unimpressed with Santana being rude, so hopefully you can forgive her after reading this :) anyway, happy reading!

Santana's point of view.

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, I'm about ready to get my fiesta on.

Hence why I'm currently pulling one over on my gullible best friend.

"I'm just really not feeling well Rach" I cough while feeling my own forehead.

"Do you think it's contagious?" she asks with worry evident in her voice "because you probably shouldn't come out tonight if it is Santana". Nailed it, I sing internally.

"I dunno if it's contagious, but I definitely wont be good dinner company so I think I'll just go home and sleep it off" I say with my best attempt at feigning lethargy "It just sucks that I'll miss the dinner is all" I say, throwing in a small pout for good effect.

"Oh, not to worry Santana!" Rachel says with a pat on my back "I'll just call Kurt and we can rearrange it for tomorrow night". As Rachel turns around and starts shuffling through papers on her desk I swear I see a hint of a smirk on her face.

"W-well" I stutter "but Rach, I'm sick!" I say far too pathetically for someone who's only pretending to be unwell.

"Look Santana, you can cough all you want but you are attending this dinner whether it be tonight, tomorrow night, or next week" Rachel states with blunt assertiveness, "you have been bailing out on your friends for too long now and it's time you started honoring your promises to hang out with us".

"What are you talking about? I spend most weekends with you guys!" I say as though she's lost her mind.

"Yea, as long as we're in a pub or a club! Santana, we're adults, and it'd be nice if you would hang out with us for reasons other than needing to get wasted".

"What are you gonna do if I don't go Rach? Ground me?" I say petulantly crossing my arms, "I thought when I left home, my Mom would stop telling me what to do!"

"You really want to bring your Mom into this?" Rachel says with raised eyebrows, "because I can have her on the phone in about five seconds if that's what you want?"

Our argument reaches a stale mate as I stare at her in disbelief. "Y-you" I splutter "if you call my Mom I will seriously never talk to you again Rachel Frederic Berry!"

"Oh, that's mature Santana!" Rachel says raising her voice "resorting to name calling are we?"

"Well, why should I be mature if you just call my mother whenever I do something you two consider wrong?" I yell as I turn to leave her office "maybe if you both stopped treating me like I was some naughty teenager I'd be more mature!"

"Oh please, I've only called her on three occasions and all were situations which I feel appropriately justified my making the call!" Rachel says with hands on her hips. "And don't go thinking that because we're fighting you are getting out of going to dinner tonight, because I will pick you up from your apartment and personally escort you there myself if I feel the need" she says with an air of finality, "and that would not look good for Brittany's first impression of you".

"Who's Brittany?" I say with false naivety. Rachel had been singing her praises all week.

"6:30 Santana" Rachel says as she turns to sit back down at her desk "either you make your own way there or I'll bribe each of your neighbors to play the soundtrack to Funny Girl on repeat".

"As if you'd do that!" I scoff, but my tone of voice betrays my sense of uncertainty.

"I'll get each of them their own copy, and they'll stagger it every hour" Rachel says with a tone of voice reminiscent of a mafia boss "It'll be like a musical round of 'row row row your boat', but a lot longer, and a lot less rowing!" she says, her voice reaching a crescendo.

I pause to consider my options as Rachel pretends to be suddenly immersed in her emails. "6:30 it is" I say in a casual tone that fails to disguise my clear defeat.

"Dress pretty!" Rachel says with her usual eagerly excited tone as I leave her office giving the one-fingered salute.


By the time I'd finished my fifth beer I'd already come to the decision I wasn't going to the dinner. It's not like I was going to miss anything fun anyway, and besides, I'm getting sick of everyone thinking that I'll be attracted to the first lesbian or bisexual woman I see. My god, when I was first thinking of coming out to my friends, I was afraid they'd feel weird and start treating me differently, instead they quiz every lesbian they come across incase she's my 'soul-mate'. Having them judge and treat me differently would have actually been better; being the lesser evil of outcomes there it turns out. Besides, no matter how many times I insist, they never understand that my type of woman is the heterosexual, preferably blonde, type who wakes up in the morning never wanting to see me again (the feeling is mutual).

I'm in the middle of thinking about the blonde with the boyfriend troubles and the massive tits that I brought home a couple of weeks ago when I hear my phone buzz.

From Rach: I'm just leaving my apartment now, do you need me to swing by yours and get you?

Santana: No thanks. I am in the mood for a bagel though. Swing by the shops and pick one up for me would you doll?

From Rach: Santana, dinner is in like ten minutes you better be almost ready to leave.

Santana: Actually never mind, I just found a bagel in my freezer. Crisis averted.

From Rachel: Santana! I'm being serious! I'll see you at the restaurant in ten minutes!

After putting my bagel out to defrost I decide to jump in the shower without responding to Rachel's last message.

By the time I'm standing under the hot shower my mind has wandered back onto the blonde from the other weekend. She wasn't all that pretty, and she smelled like bourbon. But she was blonde, and everyone knows I like 'em blonde. I lean my forehead against the cold glass of the shower and move my hand slowly down over my breasts and smoothly down my stomach. Slipping a finger into myself I can only feel a bit of wetness, but it's enough to dip into and rub smooth circles around my clit. My right hand moves to play with a nipple as my other keeps making smooth motions over my clit, back and forth, back and forth. Fuck. It doesn't take long until I start feeling the familiar warmth sinking into my stomach and my breathing starts getting heavier. As I pick up the pace and push two fingers into myself, I feel my walls starting to clench. The warmth in my stomach starts to build, but as usual it never quite reaches its' peak. My insides are clenching but the warmth in my stomach seems to have been replaced by emptiness. The same emptiness I get every time I've had sex or touched myself.

When I used to sleep with guys, I never knew what they were talking about when they said they were coming. It was only after being with a girl that I felt something, as though that feeling inside my stomach was building, turning into something greater. The first time I felt as though I was going to come was with Jasmine, a girl from my introductory chemistry class in college. It was the first time I'd been with a girl where we were both completely naked, and it was also the first time with another lesbian. In high school I had fooled around with a few girls, but never with any who were actually gay (or who wanted to admit they were). I was nervous, but Jasmine was confident, so when she asked if I wanted her to go down on me first I nodded and tried to remember how to breathe.

It felt good to have her down there. Kind of warm, but I was still a bit uncomfortable with being so exposed so it took a while for it to start feeling good. When it did start feeling good, I thought I was going to explode with happiness, for the first time in my life I was feeling what every normal person felt. For the first time in my life, I was with someone I was attracted to, and who was actually attracted to me. As my stomach started getting tighter, she moved up my body and replaced her tongue with two fingers.

Five years earlier

As she began kissing my neck, I moved my hand from gripping the sheets to stroke up her thighs and closer to between her legs. I hesitated as she thrust her fingers into me and I let out a moan. I felt her use her other hand to grab my wrist and push my hand further in between her legs. Despite being so close to whatever 'it' was, I began to slip my fingers through her folds.

My stomach dropped unpleasantly. She wasn't wet. Not even slightly.

My hand stilled and I opened my eyes. She must have sensed something was wrong because she slowed her movements.

"What?" she whispered with a tinge of annoyance.

My chest was starting to beat fast for all the wrong reasons and I felt breathless.

"You're not wet," I whispered.

"Yea, so?" she asked, her harsh tone of voice crashing through the silence my whisper had created.

Sometimes when it was late at night and no one else was home I used to imagine going down on a girl. I imagined the way she might tangle her fingers in my hair or moan my name. Sometimes I thought about her doing it to me, but mostly I just imagined going down on her. I could almost imagine the taste, and that I'd show her how much I loved her by touching every little part of her with my tongue, and kissing her intimate parts as deeply as possible. After she came I imagined easing her down from her high with my mouth, licking away any juices left behind. Not once in my fantasies was I left without feeling wetness between my legs.

Even though I wasn't in love with Jasmine, I had still become wet thinking about going down on her.

I'm brought back from my thoughts when I hear her release an exasperated sigh.

"You're not wet," I repeat pathetically.

"How can you expect me to be wet when you haven't even done anything to me yet Santana?" she says with a laugh "I don't understand why you're freaking out".

Present day

I don't remember how I managed to get dressed and leave her room without crying; all I can remember is being back in my dorm, crying on the floor of the showers and feeling dirty. And somehow betrayed.

Needless to say any good feelings she made me feel ended abruptly and I never quite came.

I had always thought that when I finally had a relationship with a lesbian that it would be magical, and special, and everything they taught you to hope for in fairy-tales. It definitely wasn't.

The following weekend I hooked up with some straight girl at a party. We didn't even take our clothes off, and after she came, I pulled my fingers out of her and left the room. Ever since then I've made a habit of avoiding any girls who aren't completely straight. It's easier, and no one gets hurt. They get their 'experimenting' out of the way, and I get a bit of a release, never quite feeling what everyone else seemed to find so easily during sex.

Having turned off the water already I was starting to shiver so I lifted myself up off the floor of the shower and put a towel around myself. I take a look in the mirror and sigh at my reflection. Even though I'm still wet from the shower you can clearly see the tear tracks marking my cheeks. Get your shit together Lopez.

Through the bathroom door I can hear my phone ringing. I walk slowly over and pick it up, not surprised to see Rachel's name flashing on the screen.

"What?" I answer rudely. One of the things Rachel hates most is bad phone etiquette, and when I'm feeling agitated I tend to enjoy annoying her more so than usual.

"That is not how you answer the phone Santana!" she says, clearly mad "what if that had been a client?"

"What do you want Rachel? I'm kind of busy here"

"Are you freaking kidding me Santana?" she says angrily "Where the hell are you? I've been calling you non-stop for the last half hour!"

"Look, I've told you countless times Rach that you're not my type"

"Oh, shut up Santana, please tell me you're on your way to the restaurant? I've been telling Brittany all about you and she's really excited about meeting you" she says sounding hopeful.

"Oh sure, I bet the bisexual chick is super excited to meet me, and then afterwards, she can head out to meet her future husband because I'm sure she'll get bored with me and my lesbian ways soon enough" I mutter bitterly.

There's a pause on the other line before Rachel responds. "Huh?" she sounds confused.

"Look Rach, I'm not really in the mood to meet every girl you lot come across that shows a slight inclination towards having some girl-sex" I say with my best HBIC tone "so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat a bagel, I'll speak to you later".

After I hang up the phone I start feeling a little guilty for hanging up on Rachel and decide to send her an apologetic text in the morning. Until then, I need more drinks and more girls.

It can't be more than fifteen minutes before I'm hopping out of cab and walking into a club. It's not one I've been to before, but I figured the thumping bass was promising, and I didn't feel like accidentally bumping into the others at our usual hang out.

Walking inside, I stop to survey the dance floor. So far, no one has really caught my eye, not surprising though since there's nothing more unattractive than a drunk chick trying to be sexy on the dance floor, so I decide to scope out the bar first instead. I order three tequila shots and down them in quick succession. The bar tender raises an eyebrow and hands me a slice of lime. I pay him and chuck in a dirty look for good measure.

I've been sitting looking at my phone for a few minutes when I hear someone speak next to me.

"Something strong please" she says to the bartender, sounding so innocent, and with a hint of sadness. Her voice is sweet but there's something hesitant about it, as though she's scared she'll say something wrong. What the fuck you weirdo? I think to myself, she's blonde and she just downed three shots of god knows what, Get up on that!

I'm trying to bring her face into focus as I feel the last shots hitting my head. I see blue eyes, but can't focus for long because she stands up and makes her way to the dance floor. I'm coming for you sexy! I start prepping myself for my mad dancing skills but as I stand up, my legs give way and I find myself hugging the bar stool.

"Whoa there sexy! You need someone to hold you up?" I hear a male voice in my ear. It only takes a few times of throwing my fists drunkenly around in the air for him to walk away from me muttering profanities. When I find the top of the stool, I manage to look out to the dance floor and spot the blonde from the bar.

I feel my insides heat up as my eyes find her dancing. She's moving as though she's made for to be dancing. She's beautiful. The way she moves is magical and I find it hard to get my breathing under control. I shake my head and try to snap out of my daze. Hopefully the reason she sounded so sad is she got stood up by some dude and she's swearing off men for the night.

I return my eyes to the dance floor to see her heading back towards my direction at the bar. I swiftly push the guy off the bar stool next to me and move it out a bit more so she can see it. It doesn't take long for her eyes to fall on the stool next to me. I'm about to lay some smooth moves on her when she puts her head down on the bar and closes her eyes. I look around, slightly put off my game and then nod my head in determination before leaning down to speak in her ear.

"Wow, you're a natural, you can't just teach someone to dance like that," I say, hoping she hasn't passed out.

I see her shoulders tense a little as she slowly raises her head and sits up properly on the stool. I can see my own inebriation reflected back at me in her eyes, as she tries to focus on me. I can see that she's pretty and for a second I feel nervous.

"Rough night?" I ask with my signature smirk.

She just stares at me, I can't tell if she's still having trouble focusing or if she's trying to get me to leave. She eventually nods her head. "Yea". The sadness is back in her voice and I almost reach out to comfort her.

"Let me guess? You got stood up?" with my usual confidence back in my voice.

Her eyes drop to the beer coaster she's playing with in her hands. "Sort of, I guess".

"Well whoever he is, he's an ass and you deserve better," I say hoping that line doesn't come out sounding as practiced as I am at saying it.

She turns away and laughs, I think I hear "mm-hmm" over the music.

"What do you say we move onto the dance floor and you show me some of those moves?" I say, leaning in towards her. At first I think she's going to turn me down, but any doubt is pushed out of my mind when she grabs my hand and starts leading me to the dance floor.

It's a good thing she's taller than me because I have to lean into her so that I don't fall on my ass. As I turn around and press my ass into her, my breath hitches, feeling her hands move around and softly hold my waist. I've never danced with someone like this before, the way she's holding me, and the way were moving feels amazing. I feel myself getting lost in the music and the feel of her pressing into me. I spin back around to face her and move in to kiss her neck.

"How about we head into the bathrooms?" I ask barely removing my lips from her neck I hear her exhale in approval as she takes my hand, and once again weaves a path through the crowd.

By the time we find a free bathroom, all I can feel are her hands touching my waist and her hot breath on my neck. The drinks have clouded my head, but it feels so good. So warm.

I slide my hand up her thigh and push up her dress until I feel the fabric of her underwear. I feel her lick my pulse point, then suck the skin between her teeth as her lips close over my neck. I shudder as her hand starts making its' way under my own dress and as she pushes inside me I exhale, and start moving my fingers through her folds. She's warm and it feels like I could do this forever.

I use my other hand to slide her underwear further down her legs, and she takes a second to let them fall to the ground. I turn her away from me and she leans her head against the wall as I reach around and enter her again. Her arm is reaching behind her, pressed between our bodies as her fingers fills me up so perfectly. Everything feels calm. I can't hear the music anymore, only our breath as we move closer and closer to what feels like bliss. I rest my head on the back of her neck as I begin to feel my stomach grow in soft warmth. It only takes a few times of her pushing into me for everything to come. My whole body feels warm, and I have to lean against her for support as I moan into her hair, my muscles slowly clenching, and then relaxing in ecstasy.

I feel her try to turn her head and look at me so I resume stroking through her soft folds. As she pulls her fingers out of me I shudder and breath into her neck. I use my other arm to pull her tighter into me and begin to move in and out of her faster. I place kisses on the back of her neck and I hear her moan. It doesn't take long before I feel her clenching around my fingers. I continue holding her as she comes down, and we stand there and just breath together.

After a few minutes we pull apart and I start to rearrange my dress. She's bending down to pick up her underwear when I see it. A tattoo. It's of a cat and it's right in the middle of her right butt check. I can't help thinking that on anyone else it would have been cause for laughing at, but it just looks so sexy on her that I can't help but reach out and smooth my thumb over it. She pauses and then steps into her underwear without looking at me.

Fuck, what am I doing? I think to myself. Did I just caress her ass? Creep.

As she stands up I try desperately to avoid her eyes. We're standing there awkwardly for too long a pause, so I look up, and I see the reason is that she's trying to avoid my own eyes by staring at her hand, which is resting on the lock to the door.

I cough awkwardly and reach for the handle as well and open it. When we get into the hallway, we both ignore the impatient glares of the people in line and walk back towards the music. As we get back into the chaos, I glance up quickly and just catch her eyes. So blue. Being surrounded by the thumping music reminds me of how drunk I am still. We both glance up quickly again, and with awkward smiles we go our separate ways.

It's only when I'm lying in bed alone and staring up at the ceiling that I wish I'd asked for her name, or that I'd taken a better look at her face. She was definitely hot though I got that much at least, I laugh to myself trying to get rid of the feeling of regret in my stomach.

Glad I didn't waste my time going to that homosexual's celebratory dinner. I may be gay, but even I need a break from Kurt sometimes. I think there might actually be a real thing as there being too much gay in one room. It's like an imbalance in the universe or something.

It's only as I'm finally drifting off to sleep that I allow myself to think to myself I just had my first real orgasm.

My dreams that night are filled with soft touches and warm breath. And all I can see is soft skin, adorned by an elegant black cat. And bright blue eyes.

Ta-dah! hope you guys liked this chapter...I'm a little embarrassed about the smut in it, not being an experienced writer, I'm sure you can all understand that I've definitely NEVER written anything like that before. Oh and sorry for any grammatical mistakes I made, I'm too embarrassed to read over it so for all I know, this chapter made no sense.