Hot Toddy

“Sorry, babe,” Caroline said over my cough. At least she had the decency to pause while my lungs tried desperately to clear. And then she said it again: “I’m sorry.”

Only I was less and less sure that she was. I’d known, somehow, that she’d suddenly need to stay in San Francisco an extra week the minute she found out I had a chest cold. She had a remarkable talent for being out of town when I needed something.

I tried not to let the disappointment slice too far into my voice as we said our goodbyes, Caroline of course not committing to an exact return date -- my cold must have sounded pretty bad -- and then we said a rote, emotionless “I love you” and hung up.

And there I was, alone in my apartment in the middle of a cold, grey Chicago November. All I wanted in the world was for someone to show that they cared -- Just enough for a pot of soup? -- and once again, Caroline was nowhere to be found. My parents were out east, my siblings scattered across the Southwest, and Caroline had made herself scarce.

Me, I made my own soup.

The evening was miserable. I cocooned myself in all the blankets I could muster and failed to focus on books, or even a magazine. My chest and nose and everything else had been so full that I’d barely gotten any sleep the night before because lying down meant a coughing fit. I loaded up Agatha Christie mysteries on Netflix because there’s nothing cosier when you’re sick than people getting murdered, but I still couldn’t focus enough on the plot to know what was going on. Not that I could sleep.

I had to fumble through the swirl of blankets when my phone snapped me out of my daze. For two rings, I dared to hope that it was a reformed Caroline on her way home, but no such luck. It was better luck, actually -- my friend Rosana, calling to check on me.

“I’m coming over,” she said. I didn’t argue.

Rosana arrived with a bag of lemons, a jar of honey, and a bottle of rum.

“You look awful.”

Rosana hugged me and checked my forehead and then bustled the rest of the way in.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m making you a hot toddy,” she said.

I tried to help, but she wouldn’t let me.

“Shh,” she said. “Just let yourself sit back and enjoy it.”

Rosana made me go get my thermometer and swatted at me as I tried to talk around it. She cut lemons in half and measured honey into my smallest pot. After we’d established that I had less of a fever than Rosana had predicted but more of one than I’d been willing to admit to, I told her about Caroline.

“Figures,” said Rosana. And then Rosana bitched the exact right amount about Caroline’s failings as a girlfriend as she squeezed the lemons -- “Organic,” she said -- and slowly heated the juice as she stirred it with the honey.

“Get it hot, but don’t let it boil,” she said, knowing I’d make several more over the next few days. “If you let it boil, you’ll cut the honey’s healing qualities.”

Rosana was lovely, standing there in my kitchen. I mean, she was always lovely, but especially so there with the rising heat on her face. She was of Persian descent, with glowing olive skin, full lips, and perfectly arched dark brows. She kept her hair short, which for some reason made people call her “pretty” instead of “beautiful.”

I didn’t think of her beautiful, though. I always thought Rosana looked tasty. Tasty like a dumpling. Tasty like something that could be savored in one delectable bite. She was small, only about 5’2”, with full hips and breasts. Maybe fuller than was fashionable, but I loved the hourglass effect. Not that it was mine to admire. Warm, independent Rosana was spoken for by Theresa, her chilly, manipulative girlfriend.

Oddly enough, I think that’s how we’d really gotten close over the past couple of years: Me bitching about Theresa on Rosana’s behalf and Rosana bitching about Caroline on mine.

Rosana poured the lemon and honey into what she knew was my favorite mug and then added rum -- two generous shots and then a splash for luck. Then she bundled me back on the couch, propped me not-quite-lying-down and not-quite-upright with a wedge of pillows, tucked me in, and found me an Absolutely Fabulous marathon.

“Drink it slowly,” she said, handing me the toddy.

I took a sip and for the first time in two days felt warmth blossom across my chest. Rosana sat on the couch by my feet watching Eddy and Patsy with me as I sipped and felt my cold start to break up a little bit, felt my brain start to actually consider sleep.

But mostly I felt the relief and comfort of someone caring enough to be there.

I finally had enough air to laugh at the show, but I didn’t last long. I set the mug down on the floor as I started to fade and was distantly aware of Rosana taking it into the kitchen and rinsing it in the sink. Sleep finally stole in and I burrowed into the blankets and gave myself over to it. As I faded, I thought I felt Rosana tuck me in more carefully, and then her hand on my cheek. Maybe a kiss on my forehead? I wasn’t sure.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Shhhh.”

She left, and I drifted into sleep.

My cold finally departed and Caroline returned -- but only for two more weeks. Then I found the strength to tell her to find someone she actually wanted to spend time with.

Rosana congratulated me and sat with me while I cried. And she nodded sagely when I realized that I didn’t need to cry all that much. We went out for long, talky dinners and short, funny plays. We hit the movies and bookstores and a semipro hockey game. Gradually, I felt better.

The winter was harder on Rosana. In the endless chill of February, she finally found out how long Theresa had been cheating.

I took her out for drinks, I came over for bitch sessions and crying jags. I took her to batting cages and kickboxing classes. I took her to the dumpster, where we lit candles and ritually tossed all of Theresa’s remaining stuff. I held Rosana while she cried some more.

The crying eventually stopped, but nothing seemed to get the pain out. Rosana got smaller and less vibrant. She no longer glowed.

I watched her carefully and talked to her seriously about depression, but it wasn’t that. It was that she’d lost her true sense of herself. She’d lost the ability to see how attractive -- how tasty -- she was. She declared herself hideous and couldn’t enjoy food anymore. I almost never got her to laugh, even by imitating Patsy. Rosana seemed to shrink into herself if we went out, hugging the walls and avoiding eye contact.

And then I couldn’t get her to come out at all.

In May, I realized what I had to do.

“I’m coming over,” I said when she picked up the phone. She didn’t argue.

I had no lemons and no rum when she opened the door. Just me. She was barefoot, in jeans and the ratty T-shirt she wore when she was cleaning or knew she wouldn’t be going out. I supposed she’d never thought about the way the thin material hugged her breasts, or the way the little holes in it gave tantalizing glimpses of her skin. My guess was that Theresa had never mentioned those things. And that was a damned shame.

“You look tasty,” I said.

And then I pushed the rest of the way in and kissed her. I took her face in my hands to make sure we’d connect, and when I felt her respond I slid a hand down her neck to her back to pull her closer.

I broke the kiss and pulled back to check in, still holding her close, still stroking her face. We were both already breathing hard. Her eyes were shining for the first time in months, but she was nervous, unsure.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m making you a hot toddy.”

I took her hand and pulled her into the bedroom.

I stopped by the bed and kissed her properly then, letting her feel my hunger as I drank in the sweetness of her lips. I ran my hands through her thick, dark hair and deepened the kiss, feeling her tongue wander into my mouth as she started to relax into what was happening.

How had I not known she’d be such a good kisser? Her lips were as warm as she was, and I could feel how attuned she was to my responses. She was just the right mix of hard and soft, advancing and retreating in turn with me, and taking long, sensual time to play in delicious plateaus. I pressed her against me and got a gratifying sigh out of her as I swooped down to kiss her neck. Her left hand moved up to keep me there as her right one clutched my back.

I eased her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and moved up to kiss her enchanting mouth again. She kissed me back eagerly now, starting to match my yearning for her. I stole a hand up her shirt, sliding it across her softly rounded belly and up to touch her through her bra. Rosana sighed into my mouth as she arched to meet my fingertips.

She gasped at the contact and let out a whimper of pleasure as I felt her nipple stiffen. She moved to pull off her shirt, but I took her hands and stopped her.

“Shh,” I said. “Just let yourself lie back and enjoy it.”

I eased Rosana back on the bed and settled next to her, propping myself on my elbow. With my free hand, I traced a tour of the rips and holes of her shirt.

“Do you have any idea,” I said, circling an exposed bit of skin at her stomach, “--how very crazy--” I feathered my fingers along a hole up by her shoulder “--this shirt makes me?”

I touched the exposed skin through a hole just at her cleavage, and Rosana blinked at me. She really hadn’t had any idea. We’d have to discuss that later, though, maybe the next time she was cleaning. For now, the shirt had to come off. I pulled it over her head and settled down to nuzzle the softness of her skin. The lotion she used had a light vanilla scent, and I breathed it in. I moved down to kiss the palm of her hand, then all the way her arm, listening to her giggle in pleasure at first, then groan as my path brought my lips back to her neck and my hand back to those lovely, full breasts.

She was wearing a simple white bra, more evidence of the fact that she hadn’t planned to get felt up that day, but I couldn’t help but love it. I could see the darkness of her nipples through the thin fabric as they strained upwards, begging to be toyed with.

I stroked and teased her, now circling, now lightly pinching, until I felt her breathing turn into panting and her hands clutch at me.

I moved down to undo her jeans and heard her breathe a “Yes!” as I slid them and her underwear off at the same time. I kissed down her thighs, down her shins, even dropping little kisses on the tops of her feet. I slid my hands back up and gently nudged her to roll over onto her stomach so I could unhook her bra.

She started to turn back over to face me, but I stilled her there, kneading her shoulders until she puddled into relaxation, then smoothing the lazy warmth down her back. She let out soft, high little moans as I lightened my touch from massage to light stroking, caressing her everywhere so she could feel and remember the sensuality of her own skin.

I stroked backs of her thighs and felt her hips move of their own accord. It was time to give her pleasant, lazy arousal some more urgency. I let my hands take a swirl across her lovely, rounded ass, then planted a kiss on her lower back.

I licked, kissed, and nibbled up her spine, feeling Rosana arch and jerk with pleasure at the new sensation. I let my hands wander everywhere as I slowly moved upward, sometimes groping up her sides, sometimes sliding them underneath her to make her jerk in pleasure.

When I was sure her whole body was awake, sure that every bit of her had been loved, I helped her roll back over so I could kiss her again and she pressed into me, grabbing my hand to move it down to her breasts, which were aching to be touched again.

I fondled her with one hand -- So soft! So full! -- and dipped my head down to use my mouth on her other breast, taking a nipple between my lips and flickering at it with my tongue.

Rosana let out a long, slow “Ahhhhh” as I suckled on her, and then a series of cries in shorter pulses as I moved to ravish her other breast. Her hands pressed at my shoulders, then clutched at my hair. As I swirled my tongue around and over her, I let my hand slide down her body toward her thighs. Rosana opened herself even more to my touch, panting now and freer with her body than I’ve seen in months.

I let my hand hover at the slickness between her legs and looked into Rosana’s deep brown eyes, which were now hazy with desire.

“Do you see how luscious you are?”

Rosana nodded and let out a whispered “Yes.”

“Do you see how much I want you?”

“Yes!”

“Do you see that you were made to be fucked?”

“Yes! Do it! Please do it!”

I put Rosana’s hands on her lovely tits so she could take care of them, then dove between her thighs.

Rosana’s whole body jerked at the first touch of my tongue -- it had been far too long since anyone had given her the pleasure she deserved.

She was tasty. Oh, yes, she was tasty. So warm, so responsive. So made to be fucked.

I held on to her thighs as I lavished attention on her center, alternating luxurious up-and down sweeps of my tongue with back-and-forth lashes and ever-faster circles of her clit. Rosana writhed with her whole body, completely unselfconscious and crying out with pleasure.

I pushed three fingers inside her and heard her switch to deeper groans, delirious with pleasure at being filled and refilled over and over. Rosana reached down and grabbed my left hand and pulled it to her breast, covering it with her own hand to keep it there. I squeezed her and thrust the fingers of my other hand as deeply as I could, sucking on her sweet little clit as I heard her voice riding, heralding her climax.

Roxana shouted her release as her muscles clamped around my hand, reveling in her body and the pleasure it could give her. I held my tongue against her as she stilled, then kissed her thighs and up her belly. She kept my hand pressed to her breast, and then pressed all of me against her as I moved up to kiss her pretty face.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Shhhh.”

I stayed, and we drifted into sleep.

Hello, lovelies.

I've missed you.

Some exciting news coming up about "The Art of Mapmaking." And new smut is on the way.

--Thalia

Just to See - Part 3

 

Jill stood behind me, unhooked my bra, and eased it down my arms and tossed it aside. Then she pressed up against my back and slid her hands around to grope me again from behind. “Such a lovely handful. On the bed, sweetheart.”

She released me and I clambered onto the bed and lay down on my back, expecting Jill’s weight on top of me. But instead she climbed up next to me, resting on her side. “Put your hands behind your head.”

I looked a question at her, but she just trailed her fingers in lazy circles across my skin.

“So soft… They look so beautiful this way.” She dropped a little kiss on my shoulder. “I mean, they always look pretty…” She traced all the way across my chest and started toying with my nipple again, making my hips roll in response.

“You got cocky. You only left yourself one hand to fondle me with.”

“True,” she grinned. “I’m not worried about it.”

And that’s when she rolled forward and closed her lips around me.

No trying to hold back anymore, not after that cry of pleasure. I dissolved into moans and sighs, unable to think about anything but the exquisite way her lips and tongue were working together. She sucked just gently enough to keep my body screaming for more while her tongue kept moving in ways I couldn’t predict, now circling, now flickering back and forth across my nipple, now stroking upwards as though trying to coax me further into the warmth of her mouth. As though I needed any encouragement.

When she had mercy on me for a moment and switched to dropping little kisses all over my breast while using her hand to stroke my stomach, I caught my breath enough to speak.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” I managed, and then trailed off into a whimper as she swiped her tongue across me again. “We only agreed to you feeling me up.”

“No,” she said, pausing to take a long ice-cream lick that made my back arch and my hips buck into the empty air. “Hands behind your head, I said. We agreed to me feeling your tits…” -- And she paused to take one of those sweet little sucks -- “...any way I wanted.”

“Same thing,” I gasped.

Jill sucked a little harder this time.

“Are you suggesting that my lips and tongue can’t feel you?”

“OK -- Ooh -- Oh, God -- good point.”

Jill moved in and sucked even harder. Then she pulled back.

“Do you think I’m violating the terms of our bet?” She swiped her tongue across me, just once. “Do you want me to stop?” She moved in slowly, closing in for a leisurely suck that shot tingles through my whole body.

“Nnn -- Nnnn.”

Jill kept her mouth where it was but moved her hand over to tease my other breast, drawing her thumb back and forth across my nipple with a slow deliberation that threatened to shut my brain down completely.

“Say it.” Her voice was soft but with an element of her courtroom steel. Jill traced little curlicues around my areola with just the tip of her tongue. “Tell me you want me to keep going.” Her eyes were shining with an excitement I hadn’t seen before.

“Keep going --- Ah! --- Please keep going.”

And then Jill was on top of me, sucking me hard and using both hands to touch me everywhere she could. I couldn’t keep my own hands behind my head anymore. I clutched at her, tangling the fingers of one hand in her hair while the other dragged its way down her back, trying to keep her from getting away even as she pressed closer against me.

As she moved across to suckle on the breast her mouth had been neglecting, Jill pushed her thigh between my legs. I pushed mine up in answer and rolled my hips to meet the pressure I’d been dying for. Jill growled with pleasure and pulled back to look at my face as her hips pushed into me with a slow, steady rhythm.

For a moment, I tried to control the expression on my face -- tried to show her the pleasure, but not the joy at what was happening, tried to keep her from seeing how long I’d been waiting and how in love I was. And then I just let go and let her see all of it.

I watched Jill’s face change as she took mine in, terrified that she would pull away.

And then she was kissing me, so sweet and so hungry and still grinding against me even as she did. I did my best to kiss her back through my smile while I frantically grabbed at her shirt. Jill wouldn’t break contact with me long enough for me to get it off, so I ended up just pulling it up and unhooking her bra, pushing both up and out of the way enough that we could be skin to skin, finally feeling her breasts against mine.

Jill switched to sucking on my neck so she could hear my cries get higher as she rocked against me. She increased the pace and pushed herself up on her elbows so she could watch me unravel. One of my hands stayed on her hips, pushing her into me, while the other one stole up between us so I could feel her heavenly little breasts, perfect just like they were made to fit into my palm.

“Are you going to come for me?” she whispered. I moaned and gave her nipple a little pinch in answer. “Please come. I want you to so much.” Jill left a trail of searing kisses down my neck and chest as she rubbed her thigh against me -- and herself against mine -- with more urgency. She knew what it would take to make me lose myself completely.

Jill thrust harder and faster still as she took a nipple into her mouth and sucked and swirled at it with everything she had. I cried out -- but she was the one who went over the edge first. Jill threw her head back and released her pleasure in long, sweet sighs. I managed to kiss Jill’s face and neck a few times before seeing and hearing her so beautifully out of control sent me over too.

I was dimly aware of holding her against me and feeling her hand on my face as I shivered my way back to stillness.

Jill stayed on top of me for a while, giving me exhausted little kisses. Then she rolled to the side and pulled me with her so we stayed tangled up. We kissed each other properly and then nuzzled in to rest.

Jill gave me a sleepy grin and let me pull off her top and bra, then collect her back in so I could feel her against me and trail my fingers up and down her back. Jill smoothed my hair and looked deep into my eyes.

“Page,” she said, “I’d already seen that episode.”

I gave her my best scowl for as long as I could maintain it -- about three seconds.

Jill put on a mock-guilty look. “Can you forgive me?”

I hooked a finger into the waistband of her jeans and ran it around to the button of her fly.

“Give me a couple of hours to rest and I’ll think of a suitable recompense.”  

“More than fair.” Jill cuddled back into me. And then she put a cheerfully possessive hand on my breast and went to sleep.

Just to See - Part 2

 

Jill moved aside and patted the cushion. “Sit back down in the middle of the couch.”

I obeyed. Jill came over and -- Oh, God -- sat in my lap, straddling me. I hadn’t thought about that possibility. Her weight was on me and her face was close enough that I could see the tiny color variations in her irises -- green, gorgeous, and maybe just a little nervous. But nowhere as nervous as I was.

“I know where your hands go,” I joked feebly. “Where do you want mine?” Just sitting there on the couch with them resting limply by my sides felt so unnatural. Jill thought for a second and put them on her waist.

“That good?”

I nodded. As long as I can stop myself from clutching at you.

Jill smiled a little more gently and stroked my hair, then put her hands on my shoulders. “You ready?”

I nodded. Jill ran her hands down my arms, making me shiver.

And then she moved across my stomach and came up under my breasts. My heartbeat stepped up to a canter. Jill looked down at my breasts as she lifted them just a little and I switched to staring over Jill’s shoulder to try to reduce the intensity of what was happening to me. Not so bad so far. Just the woman I’d wanted forever holding my boobs to feel their weight.

Jill gently shifted her hands all around to feel their shape. She stroked her palms across my nipples and my stomach jumped. Then she used her fingertips. Well, at least my breathing was holding fairly steady.

Jill quirked an eyebrow and gave me a mischievous little half-grin.

“Hard already?”

“I’m nervous.” Well, it was a half-truth, at least. I was nervous. But I’d been hard since she walked in the door.

Jill had mercy on me and swirled her hands all around, over my arms and shoulders, then slowly back down to my breasts, almost like she wanted to know what it would be like to cop a feel. My breath caught in my throat as she moved around to cup me again, as much as she could fit in her hands.

“They’re...satisfying,” she murmured, “I like this sweater.”

“Thanks.” It came out in a burst of air, but it was pretty close to being normal conversation.

“...But it needs to come off.”

Jill helped me pull off my sweater, then captured my wrists and put my hands back on her waist, maybe a little more snugly this time. She smoothed my hair out for me, then toyed with my bra straps.

“Niiiice.”

OK, so I had a habit of dressing up for her. Underwear and all. I’m sensitive enough that I won’t wear a lacy bra -- they feel scratchy on me -- but silky happens. And where Jill was concerned, silky happened a lot.

That night it was a pearly-gray fabric, so smooth it was practically frictionless. The material covered enough skin, but it was so thin that it didn’t do a thing to hide my arousal. Jill took that in and looked back at my eyes, humor playing over her face. “Nervous...”

Hell, yes.

Jill settled into my lap a little more, then let her right index finger follow a path down my bra strap. Her other fingers joined it to feel the softness of the material. Jill purred low in her throat, pleased at how easily her hand slid over my breast. Then she started exploring me with more focus.

Jill traced her fingers all around, enjoying what she was feeling, but also enjoying teasing me. She danced her fingers close to my nipple but wouldn’t quite touch it. Through half-closed eyes, I saw her wicked enjoyment when I unconsciously arched my back to try to meet her touch.

Finally she had mercy on me and grazed her fingertips across it. I drew in a sharp, jagged breath as a jolt of pleasure shot through me. Jill liked that. She used all four fingers on my nipple, circling and brushing it with an incredibly light touch that woke up every nerve ending I had. It was the sweetest torture I could imagine.

I turned my head to the side and shut my eyes, embarrassed that I was openly panting now. Jill seemed to take that as encouragement and moved her other hand down off my shoulder, letting it work in tandem with the first. I breathed even harder, sighing as the pleasure blossomed through my body.

Jill moved in for a light pinch and I lost control enough to clutch at her waist, pulling her even closer into me.

“You like that, huh?” Jill pinched me again, and all I could give her in response was a tiny whimper. Jill increased her pace, stroking and tweaking, a little less gentle now. “Tell me if you like it.”

“Mmh. Yes,” I finally managed, “Yes… So good...”

“You don’t have to hold back,” Jill said, making her fingertips flicker back and forth.

I looked up at Jill, knowing I was hazy with arousal. But what I saw wasn’t clinical interest. Her eyes were shining and she was studying my face, watching what turned me on the most. “Just let go -- it’s so sexy.”

And then she removed all choice of holding back by starting a counterpoint of flickers and pinches, sending electric tingles straight to my clit and pleasure radiating through my body. Soon she had me moaning openly, my eyes closed again not because I couldn’t look at her but because I didn’t have the spare mental capacity to keep them open.

“Page,” she asked as she dragged her thumbs back and forth in a way that made my heart hammer, “What’s your favorite part of getting felt up?”

“Um... Everything? Oh, Jesus -- that. What you did right there.”

“That?”

“Ah! Yes! That! ...Oh, God, maybe that.”

“You want to know what my favorite part is?”

I nodded and made sounds that were almost like words.

“It’s this moment.”

And then she finally slid her hands under my bra. My hips surged and I reflexively pulled her against me as the sensations got even more intense. I was dizzy with it.

“Hey,” Jill finally said as she touched my cheek to get my full attention. “Can you handle more?”

I nodded. Jill took my hand and led me into my bedroom.

Just To See - Part 1

Jill looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and put down her wine.

“Can I feel your tits?” she asked.

A more suave woman wouldn’t have spluttered her drink. I am not that woman.

I grabbed a napkin and dabbed prosecco off my shirt, then looked at Jill. Which I usually didn’t do, not for long, not while she was looking back at me. I’d been in love with her for too long and hid it by sticking to shy, furtive glances.

She was smiling at me -- playful, but not playing. She had a hint of mischief in her eyes, but she really was asking.

It was a silly response, but I said it anyway: “What, seriously?” I realized that I was instinctively rubbing my shoulder, which meant my arm was crossing my chest -- an obvious protective gesture that Jill had to be noticing. I willed my arm down and fiddled with the rim of my glass instead, letting out a tiny, nervous huff of laughter. I forced myself to meet Jill’s gaze again. Her eyes were sparkling. She kept her tone light -- totally unnecessary, since she had me from the start, but she actually seemed to be playing her cards carefully.

“Yeah,” she said, cocking her head and dipping it a little, “just to see what it’s like.”

“You’ve felt plenty of them before,” I countered, trying not to be too easy, trying not to be too eager. Trying not to get hurt. It was hopeless -- the thought of Jill’s hands on me already had my heart pounding. The issue wasn’t whether I’d let her feel me up, it was whether I could let her do it without giving too much away.

“Not like yours,” she said. It was true: Jill always dated slender girls, like her. She liked them athletic, dyed blonde, and, to her credit, with the real, small breasts that come with nonexistent hips. Mine were D-cups, generous and with generous hips to match, no matter how much I worked out. I’d learned to love both, mostly, except when I was around Jill -- I’d always wanted her so badly, and it was always so clear that I wasn’t her physical type. She also seemed to like women who undermined her confidence and treated her badly in subtle little ways -- another thing I would never live up to.

Jill had broken up with her last quietly awful girlfriend four months ago and had referred once or twice to making progress in therapy, but I still wasn’t holding my breath waiting for her to fall in love with me.

Well, I wasn’t holding my breath in the metaphoric sense. At the moment, I was holding it in the literal sense. I was suddenly hyperaware that drawing in air and letting it out would make my chest move up and down -- and Jill wasn’t making any secret of her interest in it.

I thought about the touchably soft, low-cut sweater I’d worn that night and couldn’t decide if I was glad or not.

“Come on,” Jill grinned, carefully light, persuasive but not too pushy. “I just want to know what I’ve been missing.”

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and knew I’d be crimson in a minute. I wanted to say yes more than anything, but right behind the searing thought of her hands on me was the thought of how disastrous it would be if I let it happen.

“I can’t,” I finally said after way too long a pause.

“What,” Jill teased. “You think you need to get to know me better?”

“No…” I tried to think of better ways to put it and couldn’t. I looked her in the eyes again, which was a mistake. Finally I said to my prosecco, “I’ll get all turned on.”

Was it my imagination, or had Jill’s cheeks suddenly flushed too? Probably embarrassed for me, or embarrassed to have started this at all.

“Really?” she asked, not taking her eyes off me as she took a larger sip of wine than usual. “They’re that sensitive?”

No getting around it. My cheeks had to be scarlet now. “Yes. They… I… They’re very sensitive, yes. You’d be there all clinical and I…” The thought was too humiliating: Me writhing around trying to fight off the pleasure while Jill sat there completely unmoved. “I can’t. Sorry.”

“It’s OK,” Jill said so casually that I should have known it wasn’t really over. “No big deal.”

But Jill is a lawyer, and a good one. When she wants something, it’s never really over.

We went back to our original plan of knocking down snacks, wine, and a few episodes of Orange Is the New Black, and before long we were cuddled up on my couch almost like usual. Maybe a little more careful about where our bodies touched, but almost like usual.

Jill and I laughed over the new, too-chatty inmate and then suddenly she turned to me.

“They’re not going to put someone that beautiful on the show without having her sleep with someone,” she said. “Who do you think gets her?”

I was divided between Piper and Boo, even though we agreed that Poussey really deserved an on-air girlfriend. Jill guessed Nicky. I cheerfully argued potential plot twists with her until she said, “You want to bet?”

She’s a lawyer, as I mentioned, and she was all too aware of my stubborn streak. She knew I’d bet just to be contrary. And then she had me. If I won, Jill agreed to let me pick our next five movies together, date and time to be determined.

...But if Nicky got the girl, well, so did Jill. She got to feel me up any way she wanted, that very night. Jill sensed me hesitating -- they weren’t quite even terms, after all -- and sweetened my odds: I’d win the bet if Piper, Boo, or Poussey bedded the new inmate.

I couldn’t decide if I was happy or disappointed at my new statistical advantage. And I hoped like hell that Jill couldn’t feel my heart pounding as she settled back against me.

Nicky, of course, bagged her quarry in what seemed like record time. Jill looked over to laugh at me, deep and throaty, as I sat there with my mouth still open. She refilled both our glasses, clinked them together, and cuddled back up with me, happy in her victory.

I can’t remember anything in the episode after that. I just sat there trying to figure out how to get through having my favorite person do one of my favorite things to me without visibly enjoying it.

The episode ended and Jill clicked off the TV. Then she sat fully up and, not looking at me, yawned broadly and did the old movie theater move of stretching her arm around my shoulders, letting her hand drop a little too low. I laughed and pulled myself together.

“OK,” I said, “How do you want me?” Jill’s easy grin got just a little wider and then she looked me up and down to assess.

“That’s a good question,” she mused. “Maybe up on your knees?”

We kneeled on my couch, facing each other, fighting nervous giggles. Jill reached for me and it was too much like a movie monster grab. We both cracked up.

“Not quite,” Jill said, “Besides, I might want leverage.”

I stopped laughing.

New story coming soon.

Hello. I've missed you.

New story should be finished in a couple of days. First installment coming soon.

Still Waters - Part 2

At first, Laura's kiss was shy and gentle, just like her. She barely brushed her lips against mine, just enough to feel skin on skin, wondering if I would pull away from her. She let one breath's worth of a laugh out as she felt me strain up to meet her, then let herself move in and kiss me for real. I could taste a hint of prosecco on her lips and wondered if she could hear my heart slamming into my chest.

Laura moved a hand along my jawline and turned my head where she wanted it. Her other hand wandered back into my hair. Oh, she could kiss. She made me feel like a luxury she'd been saving up for, capturing every bit of my lips with hers. Bliss flowed through me like warm honey and made me feel languid and excited all at once. Laura was finally kissing me, and all I had to do -- all I could do -- was relax and give myself to her.

She finally pulled back for a moment, looking into my eyes to check in. I nodded my OK and tried not to swoon too much. Laura moved her fingers up to stroke my cheek and trace her thumb along my lips.

"So soft," she murmured, "I knew it. I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

She held my face and moved in to kiss me again, smiling as she saw how eager I was to meet her. I suppose I should have played harder to get, but I couldn't -- almost as soon as our lips met, I opened my mouth to accept her tongue, feeling dizzy with happiness as she explored my mouth and then drew me in to taste hers. Laura's hand moved down to let her fingertips laze along my neck, and then I felt her move down a little further to toy with the first button of my shirt. I couldn't help it -- I arched my back toward her touch, making Laura laugh deep in her throat. She ran her fingers back up along the line where my shirt met skin just to tease me, then slowly slid down to that top button again.

I wanted her to undo it so badly. With no voice and my wrists bound, all I could do was strain towards her again, feeling how tight my breasts were pressed against the thin material. I felt Laura smile as she kissed me, and then felt her nimble fingers undo the button and expose just a little more skin. She slipped her hand inside my shirt to touch the silky material of my bra -- thank every goddess I could think of that I'd worn some of my favorite underwear -- and then seemed to hesitate, torn between opening up another button and sliding over onto my breast. Laura's hand was just beginning to slide over my breast when we heard laughter in the hallway.

Fortunately, Sandie and her friends were anything but stealthy. By the time Sandie threw the door open -- without knocking -- Laura was innocently holding my head up to give me a sip of margarita. But we hardly pulled it off perfectly. There was no way Sandie missed the dishevelment of my shirt, and I knew my face had to be flushed. Laura looked perfectly cool, but she was breathing just a little too hard. I was glad to see I'd had an effect on her too.

I almost felt bad for Sandie. She kept a big smile on her face as she said "What are you two doing in here?" just a little too loudly, but I could see the insecurity in her eyes.

"Just having a little quiet time," Laura responded. Then she gave me another sip of margarita and smoothed a strand of my hair. Sandie definitely noticed that the smoothing meant that something had gotten my hair tangled. The toothy white smile wavered for just a moment.

"You should come back out, Laura," she commanded, "you've been in here forever."

Laura looked at Sandie with perfect calm for one blink. "I'm fine right here. The rules are that Jen has to stay here for an hour, and that three people can visit. There aren't any time constraints on me."

For once, Sandie didn't have a response, even when her acolytes looked to her for a zinger. Laura got up and put her hand on Sandie's shoulder, gently propelling her out of the room.

"Why don't you go back to the party?" Laura suggested, "You'll have more fun. This is the quiet room."

And then she closed the door behind them and turned the lock.

"Besides," Laura said as she turned back to me and a grin spread across her face, "They were too many visitors. We're playing by the rules in here, right?"

I nodded, then couldn't help a little nervous swallow. Laura let out a giggle as she came over and sat back down beside me.

"Sandie means well," she murmured as she smoothed one hand through my hair and send the other one wandering back down to my shirt, "but she's awfully aggressive." Sandie distracted me with tiny kisses along my lips and jaw as she slipped open the next few buttons of my shirt. "I like a more subtle approach, don't you?"

I nodded again as Laura swept me into a deep kiss. I heard my own heart pound as she slid a hand around the back of my head to pull me a little closer. Her other hand played lightly up my stomach and I felt Laura grin against my mouth as my breathing got harder. She traced her fingers upwards to the button she'd hastily redone just before Sandie and her friends burst in and unbuttoned it without ceremony -- just getting us back to where we'd been.

The other buttons, she took her time with. Laura pulled back and looked into my eyes as she undid the next one, then spread my shirt apart as far as she could. She kissed her way down the center of my body as she did away with the last two, then sat back to look at me. I strained toward a little, silently pleading for another kiss, but Laura gave me one of her crooked smiles and touched my cheek.

"No," she said, "I want to be able to look at you when I do this."

She drew her finger down my neck and smiled again at my shiver of anticipation. Then she lazily traced her way down and explored the outer edges of my bra. My nipples tightened as I took a moment to thank whatever impulse had led me to choose my silkiest bra. I arched toward Laura's hand as she moved inward, tantalizingly close to my nipple. She teased me a little more just for the pleasure of seeing me squirm toward her hand, then finally took mercy on me and captured my nipple between her finger and thumb.

It felt so incredible I gave up my view of Laura's beautiful blue eyes as I closed mine and rolled my head back in pleasure. I arched again as I felt electricity sizzle through my nerves. I wanted to open my eyes again to make sure that Laura was really there, that it was all really happening, but the way she was toying with my nipple overrode everything. She teased and swirled her fingers over the fabric of my bra, tweaking and pinching me into distraction.

I finally managed to barely open my eyes and look at Laura through a haze of lust.

"You like that," she grinned. I nodded, all thoughts of preserving my dignity long gone.

"So you'll like this, then."

Laura slipped her hand inside my bra and tweaked me again, and the sudden change in intensity made me slip and let out a tiny whimper of pleasure. Laura pulled her hand away and tried to suppress a smile long enough to put on a mock stern face. She tapped a mock-scolding finger on my lips.

"I told you that if you didn't stay quiet, you'd have to pay a penalty."

Laura took a fraction of a second to check in and make sure I really wanted whatever penalty she might want to dole out, and then in one quick motion she pulled my bra up over my breasts, leaving me exposed to her. I turned away and blushed, but Laura stroked her hand all over my chest and stomach.

"You have nothing to blush about, Jen," she soothed. "You're gorgeous."

And then she leaned down and took my nipple in her mouth. I managed to keep my voice quiet, but couldn't stop the gasp of pleasure. Laura's mouth was incredible, so warm and wet and sweet. I panted and strained at the ties around my wrists as she swirled her tongue around me and sucked until she had me panting and my clit throbbed for release. Laura finally came up again for a kiss and I took her greedily, trying to give her back a fraction of the pleasure she'd been giving me.

I was dimly aware of the party still going on on the other side of the wall, but mostly I felt delirious with pleasure as I took Laura's tongue into my mouth and writhed as she let her hand roam all over my breasts. Laura finally pulled back even as I strained upwards to keep her mouth on mine. She stroked my hair as I looked a question at her.

"It's OK -- nothing's wrong," she murmured, "It's just that this angle is getting a little problematic."

And with that, Laura climbed onto the bed and straddled me. I must have looked as overjoyed as I felt, because Laura laughed as she settled in. And then she pulled her sweater over her head. Her lovely small breasts were perfect and she let me admire her for a minute as she played her hands around her bra, then she finally took it off and dropped it to the floor.

Laura leaned forward and scooched up my body, leaning in and away to tease me with those sweet, perfect little breasts. Her nipples were hard and a deep rose -- incredibly tempting, and I ducked upward to try to capture one as Laura giggled. Finally Laura lowered herself down enough that I could take one into my mouth. Absolutely lovely. I sucked gently and fluttered my tongue all around it. Laura rolled her hips and let out a low moan. Oh, she was lovely. She moved over to let me worship her other breast, rocking her hips again as I swirled my tongue over her, trying to get those hips to jolt.

I would have been happy to lavish attention on her like that forever, but Laura pulled away again. She moved back down my body just a bit, then lowered herself on top of me, easing one of her thighs between mine. I exhaled with giddy pleasure as our breasts touched and Laura kissed me again, rocking into me as she did so.

Our tongues twined together as Laura showed an uncanny expertise at making the seam of my jeans brush up against my clit. My hands clenched and strained helplessly, begging to be released from the ties as I bucked my hips to meet Laura's thrusts and pushed my right knee up to rub against her.

"Yesss," Laura hissed, and rocked against me harder. Our mouths snatched for each other and her nipples dragged against mine. I felt like my whole body was lighting up and my clit was on fire as Laura rubbed against me perfectly... So perfectly...

I felt the heat from my clit coil up and outwards, flowing up my spine and across my breasts as Laura rocked against me just a little faster... just a little harder...

Suddenly I was squirming to pull away from her, begging Laura to stop in a frantic whisper.

"Laura, wait, please wait, please -- I can't --"

Laura stopped and looked at me, then planted kisses across my forehead.

"What's wrong?" She gave a slow, tentative grind with her thigh, making me nearly helpless with pleasure.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "We have to stop -- I'll come."

Laura gave me a slow, lazy grin.

"That's kind of the idea," she said, and then she bent to suck on my neck as she ground into me a little more firmly. 

"They'll hear..."

"Then you'll have to be very controlled, won't you?"

Laura gave me a friendly, wicked smile, and then she was resting her weight on me again, nibbling and sucking my neck as she ground her thigh into me and my hips bucked against her of their own accord. My breath came in short gasps and I bit my lip, desperate to keep quiet as little whimpers and moans started to escape. I turned my head to the side, then tried to bury my face in Laura's shoulder as my body built toward an orgasm that I knew I couldn't stop anymore.

I looked into Laura's eyes. dizzy with arousal, and saw Laura's excitement at how turned on I was and how close she was to her own release.

Finally when she knew I couldn't take anymore, Laura took pity on me and grabbed a spare pillow and put it by my head. I turned my head into the pillow to muffle my cries and twined my legs around hers as my orgasm hit, arching me against her as my whole body bucked. Laura held me as I shouted into the pillow and thrust against her, then dropped her face into my shoulder to stop the noise of her own sighs as she rode me and came hard against my thigh.

After her last thrust, Laura turned my face back to her so she could kiss me while I trembled through the aftershocks, grinning and cooing at every shiver.

When I finally stilled, Laura kissed me long and sweetly, pulling me in for a hug. She finally untied me and let me hold her against me for a moment before she pulled back to massage my wrists.

I looked at the clock: Only a few minutes left.

"I guess we have to go back to the party," I said as I reached down to retrieve my bra.

"I don't think so, Jen."

I looked at Laura and saw her eyes sparkle with humor as she tried her best to put on a stern face.

"But my time's almost up."

"I told you that if you made noise, there would be a penalty. You've made several -- and you're talking right now." Laura couldn't suppress her crooked smile. "You've got a lot of penalties coming to you. Don't you think we should go to my place and sort those out?"

I couldn't think of a thing to say against that plan.