Suber: The Uber of Sex (Queer Erotica Short Stories)

Part 32: Essa

Essa slipped her keycard into the slot on the door.

Beep!

She strode in with her suitcase rolling behind her. The fresh new hotel room greeted her with an initial jolt of excitement; the thrill of a new place, a relief of no responsibilities—the joy of a vacation. Then, she saw the big, lonely bed in the middle of the room, and felt Sofia's absence.

Hefting the suitcase onto the bed, Essa flopped onto it with a heavy sigh. How could she miss this? We planned it two months ago!

Sofia's excuse—she had to 'help her sister'--might've been believable. Essa wanted to believe it. But it wasn't the first time Sofia lied to get out of something she didn't want to do. And Essa sensed the costume party was one event she definitely didn't want to do. But Essa wouldn't have booked it if it meant going alone. Why didn't she just tell me!?

Getting up with a growling sigh, Essa realized for the first time how angry she really was. "No problem," she had said. "I get it. Family stuff." But she was tired of always being understanding. How often had her ruined planned been "no problem?" Sofia had trouble with social events, that much was understandable. But did she have to lie?

I don't ask much. Why are her needs more important than mine?

Pulling the curtains aside and looking out across the glittering, sun-soaked lake, fringed in fiery red and yellow autumnal trees, heartache gripped Essa's chest. Sofia loved the fall. It was her favorite season. So why isn't she here?

Essa frowned. If I can't demand what I need, who will?

Returning to the bed, Essa unzipped her suitcase and found the event program. Falling back onto the bed, she flipped through the pamphlet. Two hundred local cosplayers were going to be there tonight, including three of Essa's idols. There were going to be contests, performances, giveaways, amazing pictures, games, a bizarre of the nerdiest keepsakes and trinkets, and even a dinner and a chocolate fucking fountain. And Essa was going alone.

Essa had worked on her Poison Ivy costume for three months; sewing the emerald silk dress with leaves, finding the perfect boots, dying the wig, perfecting the makeup. Sofia's Harley Quinn costume was store-bought, but Essa didn't care; she had always wanted a cosplay partner. They were going to look beautiful and sexy and dangerous together.

Except they weren't.

Setting the pamphlet on the bedside table, Essa grabbed her phone. For a moment, she thought about texting Sofia, telling her how she really felt. But what was the point? It wasn't a texting conversation anyway.

Forget it. I'm going to have fun. Without her.

The party wasn't the only reason she wanted to get away. They used to have sex all the time. But then every other day turned to once a week. Which turned to once a month. Essa couldn't help but wonder--had Sofia found another girl? Someone who had things Essa didn't have? 

Shaking her head, she opened Instagram. All of her cosplaying friends were posting pictures of their costumes; universe of fandoms, dark shades and vibrant colors, seductive and scary, sharp edges and soft curves, every hero, villain, love story and adventure the imagination adored. And Essa was just a cold villain without a partner in crime.

Tears stung the back of her eyes.

Is Something Missing?

Essa stopped scrolling. A beautiful woman with dramatic, winged eyeliner stared up at her from the advertisement on her feed, her pink tongue just sneaking past her ivory teeth and deep, blood-red lips. Essa flipped the next picture in the sequence.