Girl Fever (22 page)

Venus raised her glance to scan the ranks of white sculptures on the opposite side of the path. She gave an imperious nod. Silently, two muscular male nudes—their brass plaques identified them as ROMAN SLAVES—stepped forward and grabbed Todd by the wrists and elbows.

“Hey!” said Todd. “What the…”

“He can watch,” said Venus, and laughed, a lovely clear sound that rang out like a bell.

Catherine glanced from one end of the garden to the
other. There was no one there, but the space was big and open. At any moment someone might wander out of one of the colonnades that encircled the garden. She felt giddy, intoxicated. They would just have to hurry, that was all.

She smiled at Venus's long, shuddering gasp when her lips met white flesh, white stone, at last. She teased the nipples gently, flicking the point of her tongue from one to the other with soft, insistent pressure. Venus's breasts were warm and yielding; they might have been flesh rather than stone; but when she drew her head back to look, Catherine still saw the dazzling white perfection of sculpted marble.

“Hurry,” whispered Venus again. “It's been so long since anyone touched me. Oh, you
smell
good!” She buried her nose in Catherine's hair.

“So do you,” murmured Catherine in surprise. Venus's scent was like water from a well, mineral and clean, seasoned with resin and the tang of copper. Her taste held the faintest hint of fresh rain, the salt of the sea, an empty seashell scoured with sand and sun.

“Kiss me here,” Venus demanded, and her perfect white hands dropped, trembling, to her sex.

Still obedient, Catherine parted the sparkling white thighs, teasing and tasting the Goddess of Love with her lips and tongue until the marble back arched and the marble toes curled. Catherine wanted to stop and look, to appreciate the beauty of her Goddess in the moment of climax. She imagined the lovely face contorted with pleasure, the abundant hair tumbling loose over marble shoulders.

But she didn't dare stop now. Venus's cries of pleasure rang through the colonnades. Footsteps echoed in the hall with the fountain, but Catherine no longer cared if they were caught. She pursued the Goddess's pleasure with the steady, maddening pressure of her tongue until Venus gave one final delirious cry and cradled Catherine's head in languid arms, satisfied.

“Your turn,” said Venus, white shoulders rising and falling as she caught her breath. “But first… Escort him out,” she said to the Roman slaves.

Catherine twiddled her fingers at Todd. “Buh-bye,” she said, and turned her attention to her Venus.

 

“Last customer of the day ran outta here screaming his head off,” said one museum security guard to another as they made their rounds at closing time. “Real nut job.”

“I can top that one,” said the other guard. “Something's different in the sculpture garden. Know the Goddess of Love?”

“Sure, the one with the gorgeous tits.”

“She's got a friend. Come on, I'll show you.” They walked out to the gravel path, where two marble nudes now stood, entwined, on Venus's pedestal.

“Now where the hell did she come from?”

“Damned if I know.” The first guard shrugged. “Nice cans though.”

“Nice boobs on both of 'em,” the second agreed. “Man, I sure do appreciate art.”

 

 

 

 

 

W
hen it came to Shel, Robin had learned to always expect the unexpected, so, though she got a little shock when she opened the door and Shel rushed in with a gun, she quickly recovered, slamming the door shut behind them. “I haven't seen you in forever,” she accused. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You know how it is,” Shel said, crossing the living room at a sprint, jumping over the coffee table. “Life has been way too interesting for your tastes. And I respect you too much to get you in the middle of it all.” She threw open the bedroom door. The bedroom, to Robin's displeasure, hadn't seen much action lately due to Shel's disappearance. She followed Shel and found her fighting with the window leading to the old fire escape. The window was next to impossible to open
and Robin always kept a cast iron paperweight on the dresser nearby, just in case there was ever an actual fire.

“This looks like the middle of something to me,” Robin said, not caring about “interesting” at the moment.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Shel reached for the paperweight.

“Wait!” Robin cried, and managed to wrench it out of her hand. “You can't come barging in here after not calling for weeks—
with a gun
—and expect me to just let you break my window and run off again.”

Shel danced on the balls of her feet and bit her bottom lip. “I'm kinda in a hurry here.” As she bounced Robin could hear the pockets of Shel's heavy long coat rattle and clink.

“I locked the door,” Robin offered, pulling Shel away from the window by her pockets. Robin's fingertips brushed cold metal. “No one knows you're here, and I haven't seen you in such a long time. Don't you remember what happened the last time we were together?” Robin remembered it extremely well. Those memories, paired with her deft fingers, were the only things that made life bearable while waiting for Shel. Now that she had Shel in her bedroom again, she wasn't going to let her go without a fight.

Robin leaned forward, pressing her large breasts against Shel's small ones, and slid her hand down Shel's arm until she touched the metal of the gun still in Shel's hand. She grasped it and eased it carefully from Shel's
fingers, and she let her. Robin set the gun gently on the dresser and as soon as it was out of Shel's hand she grabbed Robin and pulled her into a kiss so fast and so hard that Robin had a brief fear of whiplash.

Robin felt a flash of heat between her legs—it didn't take much for Shel to set fire to her. She pushed the coat off of Shel's slim shoulders and the weight of the pockets made it slide off her arms into a clinking pile on the floor. Shel pushed Robin backward so they fell in a tangle of limbs onto the bed. “I don't really have time for this,” Shel said against Robin's neck.

Robin pulled Shel's head by the hair so she could speak into her ear. “Make time,” she hissed, and bit down hard on Shel's earlobe, certain to get her point across.

Shel yelled out but didn't pull away. Instead she pushed up Robin's shirt and bra to free her round, perfect breasts, but didn't take the time she usually did to admire before she took a nipple into her mouth, sucking hard. This time it was Robin's turn to cry out as Shel flicked over the hard bud with her tongue while squeezing the other breast tightly, then moved her hand down to the button of Robin's jeans.

Robin lifted her hips to help Shel yank the pants and underwear down her legs, but didn't bother trying to kick them off her ankles. With only vital parts exposed and her clothes bunched up at either end of her body, Robin tried to reach for Shel's T-shirt. Shel pulled away. “I only got time for one of us,” she explained, voice brisk.

Robin wanted to protest, but it was a little hard to
do as Shel shoved her tongue into her mouth while at the same time pushing two fingers up inside her, meeting no resistance since Robin was so wet. Shel slid down Robin's body, lips touching every part of her as she moved, until her mouth joined her fingers and she began to give Robin's clit the same treatment as she had given her nipple.

Shel pushed a third finger inside, knowing exactly what it would take to send Robin over the edge in a hurry. She picked up speed with her tongue, teasing Robin into a hip-bucking frenzy, and her orgasm slammed into her as fast as Shel had thrown herself into the apartment. Robin clutched at Shel's head as she licked on, curving her fingers up against Robin's G-spot until she came again, still shaking from the first orgasm.

She whimpered when Shel slid her fingers gently out of her, giving her a few last laps to send a few aftershocks through her limbs.

Shel was on her feet in a flash and pulling her coat back on. She retrieved her gun, checked the safety and slipped it into one of her crowded pockets. “Sorry about the window,” she said before picking up the paperweight and smashing through the glass.

Robin stumbled over to her, jeans hanging off of one ankle. Cold air blew in from the broken window as Shel slipped her hand into her sleeve and broke away the sharp edges of glass. “Call me when you can,” Robin said, knowing Shel would be out the window any second. “Promise me you will this time.”

“Of course.” Shel took something glittering out of a pocket and pressed it into Robin's hand. “I'll see you when life isn't as interesting,” she promised, kissing Robin on the cheek before throwing a leg over the windowsill. Robin opened her hand—Shel had given her a diamond tennis bracelet. She looked up to thank her, but Shel was gone, and someone was knocking on her apartment door.

Robin clutched the bracelet tight in her hand as she struggled into her clothes and hurried to the door. A cop was standing there. “Um, hello, officer.”

“Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but a suspect was seen entering your building—female, about five foot five, short dark hair, wearing a long coat?”

Robin shook her head, holding the bracelet behind her back. “I haven't seen anyone like that. What did she do?”

“Armed robbery—jewelry store. Thank you for your time, ma'am. Call us if you see anything.”

“Of course,” she said.

Once the door was closed she leaned against it and let out a nervous laugh. Maybe Shel would call her when life was less interesting. Or when she needed bail.

 

 

 

 

 

T
he long, slick shaft leans toward me,

 

 

 

 

 

S
orry I'm late!” Marigold looked for the blaze in Donna's eyes, but found amusement instead. “Some snooty bitch wouldn't leave my department at closing time, then I wait forty minutes for the damn bus and, of course, three came at once…”

Donna cocked her head in the direction of two look-alike dykes. That was the whole point of this dinner, actually—the friends getting to know the girlfriend. Great first impression she'd made, but the women seemed amenable. They introduced themselves, and Marigold immediately forgot who was who. They were strikingly similar in appearance: heavy-set; short, sandy hair; dark clothes; lots of piercings.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Marigold's chest tightened as she slouched into the empty chair. “Sorry again
for being…” She glanced at her phone. “Oh, god, I'm over an hour late!”

“We had to start without you.” Donna smiled as though tardiness were no big deal. “In fact, dessert's on its way.”

“I'm really sorry,” Marigold repeated, seeking some recognizable response.

Donna set a hand on hers. “You're off the hook.”

The other women laughed, and one said, “Until you get home!”

Marigold felt a blush burn across her cheeks.
How did they know?
Did Donna discuss their private life with other people? The thought made her uneasy, and she squirmed in her chair.