My roommate started waiting for me every time my FWB left and I never once complained

We don't live together anymore but I think about that year more than I probably should.

We'd been roommates since the start of college. She had a boyfriend who came over a few nights a week. I had an FWB situation. We were both happy with our respective arrangements.

And also secretly with each other.

It started one night when we were both a few drinks in, venting about our separate situations the way you do when you're comfortable enough to be honest. We ended up close on the couch and then closer and then she kissed me and I kissed her back and that was that. She slid her hand into my underwear without making it a question and found out immediately that I was already wet which I'm still a little embarrassed about. She worked two fingers inside me slow and kept her thumb on my clit and I came on the couch cushion we used for the rest of the year without a word about it. I pulled her underwear down after and returned everything she'd done with my mouth and she grabbed my hair with both hands and came twice and made sounds I had never heard through the wall from her bedroom which told me her boyfriend was not doing his job properly.

We looked at each other after and silently agreed not to discuss the origin story too much.

The routine that developed wasn't planned. Her boyfriend would come over, they'd have sex, he'd leave in the morning, and by the time I heard his car pull out she was already in my doorway. I knew what she sounded like when she was still worked up and unfinished and I was more than happy to handle that. I'd get her on her back and take my time because she was always sensitive after him and responded to slow and I learned exactly where she needed my tongue to stay and exactly when to use my fingers at the same time and she came hard every single time, gripping whatever was nearest, hips rolling into my face, trying very hard to be quiet for the neighbors and mostly failing.

The morning that stays with me was maybe a month into the routine. My FWB had been over, we'd had sex, he was getting ready to leave. I walked him to his car the way you do when you're being polite about moving things along. Got a text from her while I was still in the parking lot. Just a timer emoji. Nothing else.

I came back upstairs. She had the door open before I knocked. Pulled me straight into the kitchen, lifted me onto the counter in one move, and got my shorts and underwear off before I'd said a word. She spread my thighs and looked at me for one second with an expression that did not require explanation and then put her mouth on me and I stopped being capable of thoughts.

She knew what she was doing in a way that was genuinely unfair. Tongue flat and slow at first, then specific, then relentless, one hand pressed flat on my stomach holding me still when my hips tried to move, two fingers pushing inside me while she worked my clit and I came with both hands gripping the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles hurt and my heels digging into the cabinet doors and a sound coming out of me I was glad the neighbors were at work for.

We spent the rest of that day uselessly. At one point she was on a phone call on the couch and I got between her knees anyway and she stayed on the call for the entire thing, voice completely steady, one hand pressed into my hair, and came without making a sound which I found unbelievably hot and slightly competitive.

She moved in with her boyfriend at the end of the year. My FWB stopped being a regular thing around the same time. The timing was coincidental and fine.

I still think about that timer emoji more than makes any sense. I miss knowing she was on the other side of the wall.