Girl Fever (2 page)

“A wet pussy. It's a drink. I want you to go ask for one. It's good. Trust me.” Meri winked, knowing exactly the effect her words were having on her girlfriend. She was enjoying the process of corrupting Eva,
of turning her from a proper sorority girl into a dyke willing to boldly go places her former self didn't even know existed.

If Meri had had any doubts about whether Eva was truly responding to her, about whether Eva really was a lesbian waiting to be discovered, about whether her pussy really did get wet, she'd have taken things slower. But Eva was the one who'd whimpered and sobbed and begged when Meri had taken her home that first night. Her voice was so twisted in its desire, Meri hardly had to ask whether she was a virgin. It was clear that Eva had never given sex much thought, probably because guys didn't do it for her and the idea of being queer had never occurred to her.

But she'd responded when Meri had made the first move at a campus lecture a month before, sitting next to her, nudging Eva's bare arm with her leather jacket–covered one. The past four weeks had passed in a blur, and now Meri knew exactly what Eva wanted, even if Eva didn't quite know it herself. Meri's nipples hardened as she watched Eva walk slowly, tentatively toward the bartender with the short dreadlocks and easy smile. Eva didn't need to know until later that Meri had spoken with Sherry earlier, had given her a heads-up that here was a new girl on her arm, and she wanted to show her exactly how they did things in girl world.

Meri inched close enough so that she could hear their conversation. “I want a wet pussy,” Eva practically whispered. Meri didn't need to see her to know how red
Eva's face was.

“What did you say, darlin'?” asked Sherry. “You'll have to talk a little louder.” There was a hint of impatience in Sherry's tone.

“A wet pussy,” Eva said a little louder.

“A wet pussy?” Sherry shouted back over the bar.

“Yes. Please,” replied Eva.

Meri smiled, knowing that she planned to reward Eva for her boldness. She knew that there was a cause-and-effect response going on right now; saying the words “wet pussy” was causing Eva to have exactly that. She'd bet on it. Eva took a nervous glance behind her, then reached into her tight jeans pocket to pay for her drink. Meri hoped the denim was pressing against Eva's pussy—her wet pussy. Eva handed Sherry a ten, for the six-dollar drink, and told her to keep the change.

“Thanks, darlin',” Sherry said, gazing deep into Eva's eyes and making her blush again. When Sherry had mixed the cold red concoction in a martini glass, she held it aloft for Eva to try. Eva leaned forward and positioned her lips over the chilled rim, then took her first taste, followed quickly by another. When Eva stood back, Sherry placed the drink on the bar, then ran her cool fingers over Eva's. “Any time,” she said flirtatiously.

Eva stammered her thanks, then took the drink and moved back toward Meri. “Want a sip?” she asked.

“Oh, no; my pussy is plenty wet already.” Eva almost dropped the glass, but she kept sipping, getting more and more used to the drink, the bar, the women seemingly
on the verge of getting naked all around her. And yes, the wetness that was clamoring between her legs, demanding her full attention. Meri stepped in front of Eva and slid her leg between Eva's. “What about you? Are you wet yet?”

Eva felt tears race to her eyes, and she blinked them back. Why was she so sensitive, all over, when it came to Meri? Why did everything Meri said to her make her want to go totally wild? When Meri slipped her hand between Eva's legs and pressed her fingers against the damp, hot fabric covering Eva's core, Eva shut her eyes entirely. She wanted to put the drink down but there was nowhere to put it, so she clutched the glass tightly and let Meri's fingers tease her.

“How bad do you want me to fuck you?” Meri asked, her breath tickling Eva's ear, sending shivers down her neck. “Will you let me do it right here, where anyone could see us? How much of me do you think you can take?” The words should've sounded foreign, wild, extreme; no one had ever talked to Eva the way Meri did, not even in her dreams—at least, the dreams she'd had before Meri. But Meri made her want all the dirty talk the more experienced girl could dish out and then some. Meri made Eva want so many things she could hardly contain them all in her mind.

“I want to take all of you,” Eva said, “your entire hand.” She meant more than simply Meri's fist; she meant all of Meri: mind, body and soul; but that was too much to convey in the middle of a sweaty, loud bar.
Besides, Eva had a feeling Meri could read her mind, from the way she kept her hand in just the right sensitive place and stared probingly into her eyes.

“I can't wait, Eva. I want you now,” Meri told her. “Come in the bathroom with me.” For a moment, Eva thought of what her best friend back home would've thought. Sex in a bathroom? How tacky! How unsanitary. Eva would've thought that once too, but now all her body was telling her was:
How soon can we get in there?
The ache was overwhelming.

Soon they were in a stall and four of Meri's fingers were deep inside Eva. Eva's teeth were clenched, her body straining, while Meri simply melted into Eva, feeling like she was being given the greatest gift of her lesbian lifetime. For some reason, Eva got to her like no other girl ever had. Instead of telling her that, Meri leaned forward and bit Eva's lower lip, just enough to feel the corresponding tightening, then opening, below. “Give me your wet pussy, Eva. Give it to me,” she coaxed softly, and Eva did, letting Meri all the way in. Just for a few moments, her fist was there, inside. Those moments were more than enough for them. They both knew there'd be more of them, infinitely more of them.

They returned to the bar. “Wet pussies all around,” Meri said, and smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

A
s she was halfway through the bedroom door, the arm reached out and grabbed her. Amy hit the bed, facedown, body shaking.

“Hey—”

“Don't move a muscle, lady,” said the voice.

“But—”

“Don't say a word.”

Amy tried to shake and tried to cry but all she could do was laugh. Even as the firm hand slid up the inside of her thigh. Even as the stiff fingers plunged into her without knowing if she was ready.

“Come on, baby, play with me.” It was Joyce's voice in her ear. She sounded like she was smiling too.

“Sorry,” Amy gasped. She gasped because that finger pressed her clit and soft, warm lips slid down the back of
her neck the way she liked, making her nipples spike—hard and sensitive.

Then came the nudge and bump of the strap-on between her thighs. Along her crack.

“Get up on your knees for me. I just want to play. You work from home but I'm a slave to the time clock. I only have an hour,” Joyce said.

Joyce yanked her by the waist and Amy found herself on hands and knees, ass high in the air, legs parted to accommodate the body pressing her from behind.

She glanced in the mirror: Herself, naked and damp from the shower. Joyce, larger than she was, dyed black hair standing on end, firm naked body strapped with leather. Wielding a cock.

Their eyes met in the reflection and Amy grinned.

“An hour? We can do an hour.”

And then the smooth silken glide of silicone pressing into her moist cunt. Fingers that she loved gripped her hips with an almost painful grasp. Slim hips she liked to trace with her tongue undulated and the payoff was the fullness and the goodness and the blips of pleasure.

“Stay right there.” Joyce grabbed her by her wet hair. Amy watched as the other woman wound the long locks around her hand twice and used them as a rein. “Good girl. Good, good, good fucking girl,” she was chanting.

Big brown eyes shiny with lust, body moving with force, filling Amy with her cock. And Amy knew that nubbin on the inside of the harness was kissing and flicking and working her lover's clit.

Between the hank of hair in her fist and the friction of the toy, Joyce looked nearly possessed.

“Touch yourself for me,” she demanded. And still they stared each other down in the mirror.

Blue eyes meeting brown. Soft, curvy body accepting cut, toned body. Amy worked her clit with slippery trembling fingers, bit her lip, tried to wait, but when Joyce rammed deep and made that sound—that half growl, half sigh sound—deep in her chest, Amy lost her battle.

She came, eyes forced wide, hair tugged back, neck exposed, body bowed. Watching the whole scene play out as she took a few more strokes, saying, “Please, baby, please.”

And Joyce came. Bowing her head to her lover's back, her lips pressed to damp skin.

She laughed, a long, low laugh. “There's still time left in our hour.”

“So there is. You hungry?” Amy asked, meaning lunch.

Joyce's eyes came up again and stared her down. Amy shivered and blushed when Joyce said, “I am. Roll over on your back.”

They really could do amazing things in an hour.

 

 

 

 

 

H
ey, baby.”

Rebecca rolled over onto her back, checking the alarm clock. “You're late.” She heard Enid's boots hit the hall floor, the rustle of her coat coming off. “Good night?”

“Yeah.” The bedroom door opened and Enid wandered through, pulling out the pins holding her bun in place. “Just long.”

Rebecca sat up, letting the covers pool at her waist. When she reached out, Enid took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in for a kiss. “Too much coffee.”

“Probably.” Enid's hands were cool, not cold, when they brushed Rebecca's bare arm. She must have been inside a while, even though she was still in her uniform.
“Stopped by Steph's, she snuck us a free cup.”

“PC Watts, illicit coffee, what's next?” Rebecca ran her hands through Enid's hair, her nails catching slightly.

“You gonna put me in handcuffs?” Enid snuggled in closer. “You're warm.”

“I've been in bed all night. In this nice warm flat, curled up under this duvet…”

Enid groaned. “You think I wasn't thinking about that while I was dealing with drunken fools at three in the morning?”

“I wouldn't like to speculate.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around Enid's waist, tipping them both back onto the bed. Enid's belt dug into her stomach, the buckle cold against her skin where her T-shirt had ridden up a little, but that was easy to ignore as Enid kissed her again. “Tell me,” Rebecca said against Enid's mouth.

Enid shook her head. “Can't. You'll be late.”

“I'm in charge, I can be late.”

“Tell that to Mrs. Betts when she's on the phone at nine thirty wanting to know about, I don't know, whether she gets a mint on her pillow during her Highlands coach tour.”

“She doesn't.” Rebecca started on the buttons of Enid's shirt. “Lavender soap though, new every morning.”

“Stop talking. Or stop undressing me, pick one.”

Rebecca ran her hand over the curve of Enid's breast, dipping inside her bra to stroke her nipple. “I like undressing you. But you did ask about Mrs. Betts.”

Enid caught Rebecca's upper arms, tucked one leg behind her knees and rolled them so Rebecca was on top. “I thought about you like I am now,” she said firmly. “On your back in this bed.”

Rebecca unfastened the last button, pushing Enid's shirt open, then off when Enid lifted her upper body slightly. “Tell me more,” she said against Enid's collarbone.

“I thought about you just like this, in your flannel pants and your old T-shirt. With your hair a mess and pillow marks on your cheek.”

“Sexy,” Rebecca said dryly. Enid's cotton bra tasted faintly of washing powder, but it was familiar, and anyway, she loved the way Enid's breath hitched as she bit gently at Enid's nipple through the material.

Enid stroked her hands down Rebecca's back, cupping her ass. “I like you like this. You're my girl like this.”

Rebecca would swear, if asked, that the reason she shivered just then was the feel of Enid's hands on her ass, but the truth was, she loved the way Enid's voice sounded when she said, “My girl.” Loved hearing it applied to herself, and that was why she raised her head, kissed Enid hard on the mouth, tongue thrusting inside, her hand tightening on Enid's breast without her entirely meaning it to. “What else do you think about?”

“Put your mouth on me again and I'll tell you.”

Rebecca trailed one hand down Enid's perfectly smooth stomach—foot patrol, swimming every morning,
an hour at the gym three times a week, and it showed, the effort she put into her body—then tickled across the waistband of her trousers.

“Your mouth,” Enid repeated, sounding mildly impatient.

“Trust me, you'll like where I put my mouth.” Rebecca sat back on her heels, needing both hands to open the stiff leather of Enid's belt and ease it free. It didn't hurt that sitting up meant she got to look at Enid, topless but for her bra, unreasonably sexy for being from Marks and Spencers; her hair spread dark across the pillows, her eyelids heavy with lust. Rebecca shifted slightly, getting just a tiny bit of friction where she needed it. “You're so hot.”

“You're so procrastinating.”

“Big word for someone who fantasizes about me in bed asleep.”

“In bed in your pajamas,” Enid corrected, then, when Rebecca started on the top button of her pants, she went on. “You were wide awake. Thinking about me.”