Authors: Titania Leslee
She flicked a finger over my anus.
The tingling it elicited spread to my cunt and clit like a
wildfire, and even blazed up to my nipples, now so hard they almost hurt. I
barely had time to acclimate to this new form of bliss when she gently sank her
finger into my ass. I came up for air and let out a long groan that sounded
like a mountain lion to my own ears. I caught my breath and silently obeyed her
previous order for me to “follow her lead”. Even as the first surges of the
orgasm were building, I hungered to taste her again, so I covered her pussy
with my open mouth and found her clitoris with my tongue. Her juices were
everywhere, all over my face, her inner thighs and overflowing onto her rectum.
With two fingers still sunk to the hilt inside her cunt, I circled her anus
with a third finger and then slid it inside her ass.
Just being with a woman sexually was surreal enough for me,
but there was no describing the phenomenon of being physically and emotionally
connected to a female in this way. Give and take all at once, please and be
pleased, every orifice explored in some way. It was a never-ending circle that
made me so giddy I went wild on her. My arm tightened around her waist. I
clamped her head between my thighs and moved my hips in a dance similar to the
one I’d done on stage, forcing her to ass-fuck and pussy-fuck me deeper and
wilder. She mimicked my hip moves and we clung to each other, rocking and
licking ravenously, getting a rhythm going where we sang together with muffled
groans.
For me, the orgasm was right there, gearing up for its final
eruption. For Leslee, I knew it had already started to barrel over her by the
stiffening of her body and her groans evolving into muted screams. I let her
ride the drug of it then removed my fingers from her holes and concentrated on
stimulating her clit more. Knowing I’d caused her this joy, coupled with her
thrashing frenzy, pushed me over the edge of insanity. The current of ecstasy
gripped me with such power I had one fleeting moment of worry that my body or
brain couldn’t take all the synapses firing, that I would pass out in the
middle of the bliss. My body twitched. I made some odd noise of a whimper
combined with a shriek, like an animal begging for more attention.
Leslee’s legs relaxed—she must be down from her high now.
Her fingers slid out of me and she flicked her tongue in one final dance over
my clit. My orgasm reached its pinnacle, held for a long moment of level
madness then fell off in a gradual decline.
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel my pulse beating
in my throat. I could barely breathe yet her woman’s scent surrounded me, and
her flavor clung to my tongue like potent whiskey.
We lay that way for a good five minutes, cuddling each
other, cooing, massaging and kissing inner thighs, asses. Somewhere off in the
distance near the kitchen area of the open room, a cell phone rang.
“Shit, sorry,” Leslee said, and untangled herself from my
limbs. “I need to get that. I’m expecting an important call.”
I fielded a stab of disappointment and vague gloom washed
over me when she moved away. I pulled the blanket over me and curled into a
ball while she climbed from the bed. All I wanted to do was sleep now. I didn’t
want to think about what had just happened. While the excitement of it was
still raw, an unexpected stab of shame and confusion gripped me. I burrowed
deeper into the covers to ward off the room’s sudden chill that rushed over my
perspiring body.
I heard Leslee answer the phone with an annoyed bark.
“Hello.” She paused. “Oh, hey, what’s going—
What?
”
Drowsiness, the need to forget what I’d just done and the
urge to hide from the world, slithered over me like a dark fog.
I couldn’t relax. Something nagged at me.
Cell phone, cell phone
¼
I sat up ramrod straight and gasped. “Tom.” Oh my god, I’d
forgotten about my date with Tom. How could I have done that? I’d left my cell
phone in my car thinking I’d be in the bar talking to Leslee for just a few
minutes, but that was no excuse.
I flipped the covers off and leaped from the bed.
Leslee stood naked—crap, why’d she have to look so yummy?—with
the phone to her ear. Her jaw hung open. Her gaze was stuck to me like glue. A
mixture of emotions flitted across her face, astonishment, anger, jealousy. But
I didn’t have time to delve into what her problem was at the moment. I had my
own problems. I had to get to my car and my phone and give Tom a call.
She continued to watch me as I snatched up my clothes near
the window and Christmas tree. My face warmed. The random piles of clothes and
stilettoes reminded me it was where she’d ravished and royally fucked me with
that strap-on toy like no man had ever fucked me before.
She punched a button on her phone and tossed it on the
countertop. It made a
clack
that caused me to jump and gasp. She ignored
it and me and said, “Take a wild guess who that was and what it was about.”
“I
¼
I don’t know.” I
pulled the black dress over my head and settled it into place.
Leslee’s gaze followed my every move like a torch. “Where
are you going?”
“Do you always ask so many questions at once and not allow
time for the person to answer?” I was starting to feel the annoyance, more at
myself than her. I was an idiot. A selfish bitch who’d forgotten a decent man
and stood him up to satisfy my stupid curiosities.
God, I yearned to crawl into a big fucking hole and just die.
She pursed her lips and folded her arms over her midriff. It
forced her ample breasts upward, making it impossible for me to look anywhere
but at the pert nipples. Heat ignited in my pussy. I groaned inwardly, clamped
my legs together and located my heels, wondering how I was going to walk in
them when my legs felt like Jell-O and the motion would probably stimulate my
simmering cunt and dial up my libido again.
No please, not again. You have to get the hell out of
here and go find Tom.
Leslee leaned against the stove, naked, leisurely. I had to
admit she looked very sexy with shadows from the fireplace dancing over her
toned muscles and emphasizing her fitness.
But I would never tell her so.
“Well, I’ll answer them all at once then,” Leslee replied.
“It was Kaydee.”
My head came up. I hopped on one foot while I attempted to
slip on the other damn high heel. Why the fuck did I always wear these stupid
things? And on a night when snow had been forecast. “Kaydee?”
She nodded and sauntered toward me, her bare feet padding on
wood. “Yep. She was worried. She said she’s been trying to call you for a
couple of hours. And she also told me that the reason was some guy named
Tom—who she labeled as your
date
for tonight—had been frantically
calling her because he couldn’t get a hold of you.”
I located my G-string and did another dance, trying to put
it on. Should’ve put the damn thing on before the shoes. I gripped the
windowsill where she’d fucked me against the cold panes. I shivered and spat,
“So? What’s your point?”
“You had a date tonight? With a man?” She threw her arms out
as if she had a last-minute wave of despair and rage wash over her.
“I already told you earlier that I had a date. And yes, with
a
man
, what else? I am after all a heterosexual woman, ya know. I was on
my way to the restaurant to meet him when you called me about the stupid
contest.” I found my coat over by the door and slid my arms into it. I couldn’t
get it wrapped tight enough around me. I wanted her to quit looking at me as if
she could see through my clothes, yet something about it turned me on and
dialed up my ego a notch at the same time.
Idiot. Will you ever learn to not be so selfish and
narcissistic?
Her gaze finally drifted to the windows. She nodded. “Ah. I
see. Right. A date with a man, and you’re hetero.” She stared out at the
falling snow and didn’t look at me again.
I moved to the door, the clip of my heels echoing in the big
room. I didn’t know how it was that that look on her face seemed to spear my
heart, while at the same time her sarcasm, especially with the twist of the
word “hetero”, made me seethe, but it did.
Oh, how it did.
My hand shook while I gripped the doorknob. I kept my back
to her and said what I had to say to get myself out of this embarrassing,
ridiculous mess. “Look, Leslee, this was wrong—let’s just cut our losses, and
once we get to work, we’ll just pretend it never happened. Maybe steer clear of
one another.”
“Sure. Whatever you want, Melanie. Whatever
you
want.”
I yanked open the door, stopped on the threshold. “Goodbye.
I’ll see you at work tomorrow morning.”
“Ta-ta, Mel. See ya bright and early at the hotel.” Leslee’s
voice held a tone of barely contained rage, as if any moment she’d explode.
But I stepped out onto the private landing of her rear
entrance and pulled the door shut behind me. There, that would stop her from
spewing any objections to the fact that I was a heterosexual woman who’d missed
a date with a
man
.
So I could be in a silly contest and have mind-blowing sex
with a lesbian.
Oh. My. Lord. What had I done?
I dug my keys out of my bag and tromped down the stairs and
out into the parking lot. I ignored the wet snow as it caked around my ankles,
unlocked my car and climbed in. As I fiddled with the wipers and heat knobs, my
gaze rose to the outside rearview mirror reflecting the long line of windows
that spanned her loft apartment.
I gasped. “One-way windows, my ass.” Outlined by my mirror,
Leslee stood there topless, her arms folded over her breasts and mostly
concealing them, staring out across the parking lot. She didn’t look my way.
Instead, she spun around and disappeared from sight.
I bit my fist. That incessant tingling started in my cunt
again. She’d looked hot, delicious and I could just imagine another woman
shoving her against that window.
I wadded my dress over my jittery belly. No, I refused to
allow the jealousy in, especially with it being a hypothetical woman making
love to the woman I’d just gotten the best sex from in my entire life.
I had to focus elsewhere. I snatched up my cell phone off
the passenger’s seat where I’d tossed it hours ago, and scanned the screen.
“Oh, Tom, Tom, Tom.” He’d called nineteen times, left six voice messages and
texted me a dozen times. “Holy holly, I’m such a fuck-up. Not to mention a
shameful slut.”
The tires squalled on slushy pavement as I gripped the
gearshift in my right hand and backed out of the parking spot.
I had to find Tom and explain—no, lie. Yes, I’d just have to
come up with some lame excuse. He’d never know I’d been with another woman.
No
one
would ever know. With that admonition, and ignoring the fact that
Kaydee probably knew, I raced my car through the snowy streets toward the
restaurant and prayed it would still be open.
And that Tom would still be there.
Chapter Six
Leslee: Lovesick
I kept walking away from the window and pacing back. I now
stood there naked, my nipples still hard and inflamed, and watched her tramp
through the snowy parking lot and climb into her car. Had I really just lost my
close friend, my best lover ever and my highly competent assistant all in one
fell swoop over a few hours’ span of time? I rubbed the ache in my chest with
the heel of my hand. My eyes stung and my pussy throbbed for those surprisingly
talented fingers of hers, which now fiddled with dashboard knobs. Her beautiful
face was framed by the driver’s side mirror of her car. I gasped when she
turned her head and glanced up at me over her shoulder. I detected an
expression of pain just like I was feeling, but she was too far away so I
wasn’t certain.
Could it be
¼
?
I moved away, came back to the window.
Is she just as upset and lovesick as I am?
I used my fist to buff away the growing fog on the window
and leaned closer, planting my hands on the windowsill in the very spot where
I’d fucked her scrumptious pussy and given her her first orgasm during
lovemaking. I narrowed my gaze but she wasn’t looking my way anymore, so I
threw open the window. A blast of chilly air rushed in and engulfed me, cooling
my exposed, perspiring flesh, yet I barely noticed. Instead, I watched her. She
pecked and swiped across her phone screen before her reverse lights came on and
she backed up, making fresh tracks in the snow. A mist of white spewed out
behind the vehicle when she spun out and headed toward the exit.
In the last second before she turned out of the parking lot,
she glanced up. Our gazes met and I could swear my heart stopped. There were
tears in her eyes. Angry tears. Her expression could be described as nothing
other than a glare of near-hatred.
Then she was gone, fishtailing out onto the street and
nearly losing control of the car.
I slammed the window shut and shivered. “Crazy woman,” I
muttered even as my gaze drifted over to the rumpled bed and I replayed our
lovemaking in my mind. I crossed to my closet, yanked my robe off the hanger
and donned it in jerky motions.
Maybe I should just get drunk and forget her? I located both
wineglasses and plucked them up. Great. I couldn’t tell which was mine.
Deep-red lipstick marked the rims of both glasses. But I wanted her, all of
her, so I aligned my lips with one imprint and drained the wine in a long gulp
then followed with the other. I swiped my lips with the back of my hand and
studied the red streak it left on my skin.
It made me think of her painted lips on my pussy, kissing,
licking, learning. I plopped down on the couch, clutched the glasses in one
hand and punched the TV remote button, ignoring the blooming warmth in my
crotch. “Shit. I’m done for. How am I going to face her at work in the
morning?”
I set the stemware on the coffee table with an awkward
clunk
,
then flipped through the channels and stopped on the local news. My mind
wandered back to the bed and that amazing lovemaking as I watched the weather
report. More snow, more cold, more gloom to come. The camera shifted from the
weatherman to a shot of the anchor and co-anchor. They discussed a local
contest
¼
“What in the—”
Did she just say Pussycat’s lesbian bar?
I shot to my feet, turned up the volume and crossed to the
flat-screen.
The announcer reported in a stern business voice, “The local
nightclub has been reportedly struggling in the recent economic downturn. It is
said that one of the two owners, Charles Snyder, orchestrated the controversial
contest to draw in new patrons. The contest solicited customers to enter for
prize money.” A clip showed the front of the bar aglow with Christmas lights,
but then it switched to the inside
¼
And showed the empty stage.
I gasped and stared agog at the TV screen. “The news station
was there? Inside the bar?”
“However,” the anchor added, “there are conflicting reports
as to whether or not only customers were allowed to enter. Some customers state
that the co-owner, Leslee Franks, and an unnamed friend got on stage and
allegedly performed sexual acts that violate local laws and ordinances.”
Fuck me.
My world seemed to tip and spin. My pulse spiked. I couldn’t
breathe, and in spite of the chill still in the air from opening the window,
sweat gathered at my nape and in my armpits.
Please no. This can’t be happening.
They interviewed a heavyset, vaguely familiar butch on
screen. “Yeah, it was hot. I never knew Ms. Franks had it in her.”
Damn it.
“I’m new in town, so this is the first time I’ve ever been
here,” another customer said with a grin. “I’ll be back for sure.”
Then there was a shot of Billy, my hostess. The reporter
held the microphone near her mouth.
“I’m told the other woman is the coworker and assistant to
Ms. Franks at Starling Hotel where Ms. Franks is also the food and beverage
director. Can you confirm this?” the reporter asked.
Billy blinked and stammered, “I
¼
um
¼
Uh, no comment.”
She backed away and escaped from the reporter.
The camera swung to the correspondent. “Well, perhaps that
says it all. Back to you in the studio.”
As the station newsperson wrapped up the story, a quick
flash of the contest in progress played on the screen.
It showed Melanie and I standing back-to-back dancing
seductively against each other.
“Oh my—
crap
.” I fell to my knees. My hands shook as I
rewound the DVR and watched it again.
Yes, I hadn’t imagined it. The whole report played through
again just as I’d thought I’d seen it. My stomach churned and dizziness washed
over me. I collapsed to the floor and curled in a ball.
“No, no,
no
.” The sobbing fit came in a rush that I
couldn’t suppress. I held my head and pulled at my hair. The ceiling spun and
tilted above me. I scrambled to my hands and knees and started to crawl toward
the bathroom to throw up the wine I’d just downed.
But my cell phone rang somewhere in the kitchen. I thought
about letting it go, but the bar was just closing downstairs and I was on call
for the night. So I got to my feet, did a stumbling detour over to the kitchen
and plucked up the phone off the breakfast bar.
The phone screen read “Starling Hotel”.
Ah, fuck me.
“H-hello?”
“Leslee?” Damn. It was Henry Edwards, my boss and the
general manager.
I gulped. “Y-yes, this is Leslee.”
“Did you happen to watch the local news tonight?” he asked
in that usual condescending voice of his. Only this time I detected the undertones
of barely controlled rage.
I didn’t answer him like an intelligent, guiltless woman
should. I couldn’t. My words were lodged like a dirt clod in my throat. All I
could get out was a string of, “Uh
¼
I
¼
um
¼
”
He sighed. “Of course you did.
Every
one in this whole
fucking city did. Get your ass over here to the hotel right now. I’ll be
waiting in my office. And make it quick.”
“But I—”
He hung up on me.
I stared at the phone, stunned, speechless. The nausea
returned in a tide of dread and panic.
Charles. This was all that bastard’s fault. He’d told me it
would only be broadcast by radio, and with no contestant names. But at the same
time, he’d threatened me, demanding I enter to up the buzz from our current
clientele or else he’d sell the bar. I pounded my fist on the countertop. I
should have known better—I knew how deceitful Charles could be.
Yet I’d let him talk me into participating. “You’re
extremely popular among our patrons, but you’re known for being
¼
modest. We get a buzz going here in the club
that
you’re
going to perform, hell, we’ll double our usual event
earnings and draw in new customers,” he’d said. “If we don’t, I’m selling my
sixty percent to Bards.”
Of course he’d been right. Everyone knew I’d never be caught
stone-dead on that stage, so the rare appearance would cause that buzz, and it
did bring in about double our usual crowd during special events. But I should
have thought of an alternative. I should have known he wouldn’t stick to his
“no names” and “no TV stations” claim.
And most importantly of all, I should have
never
involved Melanie in this mess.
* * * * *
I pulled into the hotel parking lot by 11:15 p.m. and
climbed out of my car. It was still snowing, but the maintenance crew had
already cleared some of the snow from the lot, so I was able to walk easily on
my heels to the back employee entrance. I’d decided to dress in my best
business suit—the only one I owned with a skirt rather than the usual pants I
wore to work. I’d also applied some mascara, blush and lipstick, which was very
unusual for me whether on or off the job. Maybe if I came in looking crisp,
businesslike and feminine, I’d remind Henry that I was capable of playing the
part and giving his hotel that high-class atmosphere he always insisted on.
Don’t count on it, Leslee. You know Henry’s a
self-absorbed jerk.
My hand trembled as I pulled open the door, stepped inside
and tried to ignore the voice of truth echoing in my mind. The usual scent of
floral air freshener mixed with lobby coffee hit me as soon as the door shut
behind me. The speakers played the elevator-tune version of
The Nutcracker
overhead, and up the hallway to my right I could hear the chatter coming from
the lobby where the front desk checked in late-arriving guests. I followed the
brightly carpeted corridor to my left with its scattering of wingback chairs,
large poinsettias and expensive wall paintings, toward Henry’s plush office in
the executive suite.
I reached the tall double doors made of thick oak and
outlined in a twist of gold- and-silver tinsel. My hand shook again as I
reached for the brass knob and turned it. I stepped into the waiting area where
a fat, elaborately decorated Christmas tree sat in a corner among chairs lining
three of the four papered walls. His secretary’s desk was positioned on the fourth
wall. The computer, mail baskets and penholders on the heavy maple surface were
in neat order, and a foot-tall set of Santa and Mrs. Santa stood on the edge
greeting visitors. Given the late hour, the secretary’s chair was empty as I’d
expected, but that didn’t diminish the message that this desk guarded the man
in the office beyond. Though the door was ajar, which was unusual, I didn’t
dare venture beyond that desk until I was given permission, so I lowered myself
into the nearest seat to wait.
I hadn’t been sitting for more than ten seconds when Henry
sauntered out of his office. He stood behind his secretary’s desk with his
hands on his hips and his chest puffed out, but he was your typical short man
with “tall-man syndrome”. He glared at me and jammed his thumb over his
shoulder. “Get in my office. Now.” He whirled around on his buffed, expensive
dress shoes and stalked back into his domain.
My legs were like rubber bands as I crossed the fancy
carpeting, passed behind the secretary’s territory and stopped in the doorway
to Henry’s realm.
“Sit down,” he grumbled without looking up.
What a
Scrooge.
His bald head was lowered, the smooth skin shiny under the
overhead lighting. He scribbled on some forms spread across the wide desk while
he sat in an executive leather chair that dwarfed him. Huh, maybe he more
resembled a Santa’s elf than Scrooge.
I’d only been in here once, during my interview years ago,
so it wasn’t all that familiar to me. I shuffled forward, glanced around at the
rich furnishings, various trinkets and artwork, and lowered myself into the
first of two wing-backed chairs set before his desk like execution seats. I
caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. It made my stomach churn.
He held his pen poised above the paper and scowled at me over
the top of his bifocals. His beady black eyes gleamed devil-like at me. “Move
over to the other chair. I’m expecting Melanie too.”
Melanie? Oh please, no.
I hardly had time to lament that fact when a rap sounded on
his open door. I didn’t turn though. I knew it was her. Wished it wasn’t.
Wished I’d never gotten her into this mess. But it was too late. Here we were
at this place in time, unable to change the past or the outcome that was about
to be laid before us.
I shifted over to the next chair to offer her the first one,
but not because Henry had ordered me to. I did it as a courtesy gesture for
Melanie.
Her heels made a muffled clip on the carpet as she moved
closer. I caught the aroma of her perfume before I saw her out of the corner of
my eye where she stood next to the chair but didn’t sit down. Smart girl. I
couldn’t help myself. I glanced up at her. She was dressed the same as me, in a
crisp business suit with a snug skirt and white blouse beneath the jacket. Her
leather briefcase was strapped over her shoulder just as it had been when I’d
interviewed her so long ago. She looked crisp, all business.
And sexy as hell.
She avoided my gaze and primly lowered herself into the
chair next to me when Henry waved a hand silently, ordering her to sit.
Henry cleared his throat, tossed down his pen and spun in
his chair to the credenza behind him. He punched some buttons on a stack of
equipment and pointed a remote at a television mounted near the ceiling in the
corner behind him.
“Feel like a good movie?” he asked, though it was apparent
it wasn’t a question requiring an answer when the Pussycat’s news report played
on the screen.
Melanie’s swift intake of breath told me she hadn’t yet
heard about the contest being broadcast on a local television network. I peered
over at her. Her hand was pressed to her chest, blocking my view of her
cleavage in the button-up blouse. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were bugged,
glued to the flat-screen television.