Looking For Love
By Anj (Azurenon)


Disclaimers: see chapter one.

Chapter 2

        What are you doing? I questioned myself, while following the taillights of her late model, black Corvette in my old blue Blazer. “I'm going to get laid!” I answered, aloud. “Or at least I hope to hell I do.” I further laughed out loud like a crazy woman, tingling with anticipation.
        You know she has to be desperate as all-get-out to pick the likes of you, for even a quickie, my ever-negative mind sang out. “Yeah, well… this is like a dream come true and you're not gonna mess it up for me, this time. So just shut the hell up, sit back and enjoy the ride!” Boy was I glad no one could hear me talking to myself. They would've known I was off my rocker.

        The gravel drive ended at a quaint, ranch-style brick house. It was apparent in the illumination from the outside light -mounted on a telephone pole beside the two-car carport- that the paint on the eves and overhangs had peeled and was subsequently being scraped in preparation for a new coat. A tall aluminum ladder was still straddling a freshly trimmed shrub, obviously awaiting her return.
        It was then, that it hit me: I don't even know her name! My face flushed red in embarrassment, as I parked behind her Corvette –not even offering to presume entrance to the carport- and killed the engine. I was flustered now and busied myself turning off the lights, gathering up cigarettes and lighter, then stuffing my fanny pack back under the seat -after returning driver's license and money I'd previously carried in my pocket at the bar.
        Suddenly my door opened. “Sorry about the mess,” she apologized. “It's a work in progress. Inside looks better than the outside, I assure you.”
        “You gonna do the painting?” I inquired, just to have something to say as I hit the automatic door lock and made sure I had my keys in my hand.
        “I plan to, whenever I get all the prep work finished. Mom let it go for too long. I should've come down and took care of it myself, but she wouldn't hear of it. Just kept putting it off until…” She paused and cleared her throat, her hand lightly touching my elbow as I got out and shut the door. “Nice and quiet out here. Lots of fresh air,” she added, quickly changing the subject.
        I inhaled the aroma of wet grass, tinged with cow manure. “How many acres?” I asked, having noticed the barbed wire fence on either side of the property.
        “Twenty-five,” she answered, simply. “A few cows… no horses, yet.” She glanced over at me. “Do you ride?”
        “Horses? Uh, no… not so's you'd notice. I had a pony once. Saddle straps were so worn I was always falling off,” I babbled as we passed her Corvette on the way to the side door.
        She paused before the steps and smirked. “I'll get the door.”
        I cleared my throat, watching her walk up the steps, admiring her behind. “Umm… you know there is something I forgot to ask.”
        “What's that?” she responded, opening the door, dim light from inside highlighting her tall frame in the doorway.
        “What's your name?”
        She let out a deep, throaty, devilish chuckle that sent shivers down my spine. “Yeah, I guess we did skip that part, didn't we?” Sultry green eyes stared down at me. “It's Regi… one 'g', no 'e'. Short for Regina. And yours?” She extended her hand towards me.
        My god, is she always so gentlemanly? I wondered, reaching out towards the proffered hand and slowly ascending the three steps. “Just plain Rachael.” I answered. “Rachael Perry.”
        “Well, just plain Rachael,” she said, standing on the landing, holding the storm door open with her body. “It's nice to meet you.” She leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Now… what can I get you to drink?” Her hand was at my back now, guiding me inside.
        “I don't know. Whatever you're having is fine.” I stepped inside and glanced around.
        Dining room –dimly illuminated by a light over the kitchen sink- normal furniture, a little worn. A bar separated dining room from kitchen; older appliances, though clean, neat, no dirty dishes on the counter. Dark hallway beyond the kitchen; living room off to my left: casual furniture, sofa and two comfy looking recliners was all I could make out. All in all, the atmosphere was homey. Could use a good airing out, though.
  She closed the door behind her and turned the lock. “Ever had a Long Island Tea?” “No, what's in it?”
        “You like Vodka Collins, right?” She flipped on the dining room light: ceiling fan, four dusty globes.
        “Well yeah, but how'd you…?” I turned to face her and those eyes looked even greener, if that were possible. A soft green, like new growth on the trees or lush spring grass. Verdant and mesmerizing, were the words that came to mind.
        “Trust me,” she purred, staring into my eyes so intently I felt I would swoon like some love-struck maiden in a romance novel. “You'll like it.” She reached for my other hand and took my keys, laying them on a small table behind me. “We'll talk some more… if you like. There's a patio out back where you can smoke.” She gestured towards a pair of sliding glass doors with no curtains or blinds in evidence.
        I was dying for a cigarette at that moment and looked in that direction. Suddenly her hand cupped my chin and lifted. “I can't get enough of those dreamy eyes,” she murmured, then leaned over and kissed me. My eyes closed involuntarily, my body feeling as if were made of wax and melting ever so slowly from the sensual caress of those soft, supple membranes. “You do want a drink?” she queried, easing back.
        My eyes flew open. “Uh-h-h… yeah, sure.” I felt my face flush. I knew she had seen the effect she had on me now. I turned away. “I… umm. Do you need my help or… should I just… wait on the patio?” God, let her say 'patio', please!
        She smiled. “Patio's fine. Here… lemme see you out. That door's old and the lock's kinda tricky.”

        The patio was small and enclosed; several windows open to the cool late April breeze. The atmosphere was homey like the house, with several white wicker chairs and matching loveseat positioned around a short glass table. Figurines and plants filled the empty spaces. I settled into one of the chairs, the seat pad a bit flat and worn. I was happy to find a used ashtray sitting close by on the table. I breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to satisfy my nicotine addiction and hopefully calm my nerves. Why I was putting off the inevitable- the reason I was here to begin with- when I wanted it so badly I could taste it, I didn't know. I guess I just wasn't used to the idea of hopping into bed with strange women. And Lord knows not any this good looking, I thought. Again I wondered what on earth she saw in me. She likes my eyes. Yeah, but surely that wasn't enough, was it? She wasn't the first person to comment on my dreamy –some even went so far as to call them bedroom- eyes. And every one of those comments had NOT came with an invitation to take me to bed.
        A whimper escaped my lips at the memory of her proposal. I crossed my legs, wanting to appear relaxed and yet could feel my own arousal. My god, you're sopping wet and you haven't even laid eyes on the bed, much less laid down with the woman, yet! I tingled all over just thinking about that long body of hers, lying on top of mine. I'd never been with a woman over 5'6. She was surely 5' 8… 5'9?
        You're expectations are way too high, you're gonna be disappointed, my mind warned. Disappointed my ass, I'm already creamin' my jeans over one little kiss. “Jesus, get a grip,” I mumbled under my breath, running my fingers through short, dark tresses.
        The memory of her rubbing my ear flashed through my mind. She'd also kissed my neck, hitting that sensitive spot on the first try, as if she already knew where it lay. Coincidence! It's just coincidence that she happened to pick your most vulnerable areas. These are sensitive to a lot of women. And you better believe she's had a lot of women in her day.
Don't think about that, I told myself, just go with the flow. I pinched myself for good measure just to make sure I wasn't dreaming and rearranged my legs, crossing them the opposite way. Got to be menopausal, I surmised. Some women dry up; you're the opposite. And how!! Maybe this is why they go dry, the flood before the drought?
Yeah, I knew I was reaching, but… I had to have something to occupy my mind, to keep from leaving a wet spot on the chair pad when I got up!

        I'd finished my second cigarette, before she came out on the patio –blue blazer no longer in evidence, white shirtsleeves rolled up, exposing her forearms. She was carrying two wine glasses containing ice cubes and an amber colored liquid that reminded me of weak tea. One dark eyebrow arched skyward as she looked from me to the loveseat. “Still afraid I'll bite?” she queried with a smirk.
        “Uh no, I… I didn't think…” I paused as she arched that eyebrow again and extended one of the glasses in my direction, all the while moving towards the loveseat.
        It's obvious you're not thinking at all, I confirmed to myself. Not with your head at any rate.
“You gotta come over here and get it,” she remarked.
        “No problem,” I responded, feeling it was about time I stopped acting like a shy schoolgirl. I was here for only one reason, after all. My body was willing and obviously ready, so… Go for it!
        We both sat back on the loveseat and sipped our drinks. “Ooo, this is good,” I announced.
        “Told you to trust me,” she said with a sly wink.
        “Trust you, huh?” My tone was deliberately teasing, my eyes perusing the white shirt, the gap wider from this vantage point, the curve of her breast even more prevalent now. That was an “Ooo”, too, that uncrossed my legs. I wanted to see more, wondering if the nipple was pink, tan or light brown. Would it be large or small, hard or not so easily aroused?
        A finger wiggled in front of her chest and motioned upwards. I'd been caught again. I raised my gaze slowly this time, however, taking in a spattering of tiny dark freckles across an otherwise smooth chest; a larger dark freckle near the hollow of her throat; several deep lines encircling her neck, signifying she wasn't a spring chicken any longer. I found it all attractive, alluring and arousing as all-get-out! I was especially enamored with the light fuzz on her cheeks, a darker line of which accentuated her upper lip; wrinkles around lips and eyes; a small chicken pox scar over left eyebrow; light freckles spattered here and there across her face; pores indicative of bouts of acne. All of these combined, suggesting experience, maturity, sensuality, but not perfection. Had she walked right out of my dreams? I wondered. Oh Lord, if so, please don't let me wake up right now, I prayed. Let me see this all too real dream through to its conclusion!
        When my gaze finally met hers, her left hand was moving towards my face. “You haven't done this a lot, have you?” she inquired.
        “Shows that much, huh?” Long fingers held my chin immobile when I attempted to turn away in embarrassment. Green eyes, illuminated by the light filtering from the kitchen through the window behind us, searched mine. “Guess I shoulda told you up front. I'm sure you'd rather be with someone more experienced and…”
        “Did I say I didn't like it?” she interrupted, her tone low and sultry. “I don't believe I did.” Her eyes darted down to my lips, her face moving closer. “I believe I just asked a question that… I already knew the answer to.” Her gaze met mine and I thought she was going to kiss me again, but her glass suddenly appeared between us in the other hand. She took a sip, eyeing me over the rim and then slowly licked her lips. “So… let's talk.” Talk? I wanted to screech. “What do you do for a living?” she queried, easing back, her fingers brushing against my cheek on their way towards my ear.
        “As little as possible,” I responded, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears because of its breathy quality.
        She chuckled, a deep throaty sound. “Tell me about yourself, plain Rachael.”
        I cleared my throat. “You don't… really wanna know.”
        “Oh, why not?”
        “You didn't… seem like the talkative type at the bar.” I raised my glass and took a sip.
        “That's because I wanted to get you outta there and over here, so I could have you all to myself.”
        “Oh, you're good,” I said aloud, the words slipping out before I had a chance to stifle them.
        Thumb and index finger tugged on my earlobe. “How would you know? We haven't even got started… yet.”
        I chuckled to cover my own nervousness. That pause before “yet” held a lot of promise of things to come. I now began to wonder, if she was the one whose expectations were far too high. My hand trembled as I raised my glass to my mouth. I knew I would inevitably disappoint her. I berated myself for being so self-centered as to allow all the charming words and strong come-on lines to blow my ego all out of proportions. How convenient it had been for me to so easily forget I wasn't worth a shit in bed, just because she had me throbbing.
        Oh god, this was a mistake! I thought. You're here under false pretenses. Somehow you've led her to believe you're something that you most certainly are not! How'd I do that? When did I do that?
        “Hey… earth to plain Rachael.” She tugged on my earlobe. I glanced over at her. “Where'd you go, hmm?” she asked, with a smirk.
        “Umm, nowhere… I just…” I paused, trying to think of something, anything to say.
        “How long has it been?” she asked, in a casual tone of voice, as if it were the most normal of questions.
        It caught me off guard. “That's a bit personal, don'cha think?” I retorted.
        “That long, huh?” She smirked and sipped her drink.
        “That's not…” I paused once again and took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do: go along with her assumption or admit I'd always sucked at bringing a woman to orgasm? “Okay, look… since you've been so up front with me, I'll be blunt with you.”
        “Alright,” she agreed.
        I made the mistake of looking into her eyes and… lost my nerve. My truthful admission went flying off into the night air. “My… my previous lover and I, we… didn't have sex for the last few years,” I said, instead, which was the truth, although omitting I'd had a few short term flings and a couple of one night stands, since then. All of which I thought might turn into more at the time.
        “I see.” I couldn't read her tone of voice; her face was expressionless.
        “So, just… don't expect much… okay? I, uh… I wouldn't want you to be disappointed or… frustrated.”
        She smiled now. “You're worried about me, hmm? That's sweet. But there's no need.” She wiggled her fingers beside my face. “I'm well acquainted with Rosy palm and her five friends.” My mouth dropped open. “And who knows you may even need your own friends before the night's over.”
I didn't know what to say, but for some reason found this quite funny. Especially so, when she started laughing too.
She raised her glass in mock toast. “To Rosie,” she said. “True friend for life.”
        We clinked our glasses and chuckled, then sipped our drinks. The phrase “Rosie palm and her five friends” was familiar. I searched my brain to remember where I'd heard… Ah yes, Xena fan fiction! Suddenly a wayward thought crossed my mind and jumped out my mouth. “By the gods,” I said, reminiscent of Gabrielle, “you wouldn't be a Xena fan, would you?”
        She smirked and cut loose with Xena's notorious battle cry, trilling her tongue and adding, “Shee-ya!” at the end.
        “Hot damn!” I exclaimed. “A woman after my own heart.”
        We both burst into laughter.
It was evident to me that what little alcohol we'd consumed had definitely kicked in. “What the hell is in this stuff?” I queried, giggling like a schoolgirl.
        “Five white liquors: Rum, Vodka, Gin, Triple-Sec and Te-quila,” she responded, emphasizing the last word like the song, by the same name, and arching her eyebrows suggestively.
        “No wonder you're flying on just one,” I remarked. “Then again, I don't know how many beers you had.”
        “I had that one beer you saw at the bar, for your information. I will admit I don't drink often, though. Not these days. But, I can assure you I'm far from drunk. I'm just having a good time.” She smiled slyly. “Besides it's not everyday I meet a Xena fan. Much less one that likes my war cry. And further thinks I'm good, when she hasn't even been to bed with me yet.” She paused briefly. “Don't set your expectations too high, either, my friend. I just might be rustier than you are.”
        “No-o-o, couldn't be,” I objected. “As good looking as you are? And so quick with the come-on lines.” I teased.
        “Hey, they don't work all the time, lemme tell ya. And it's not like I'm always on the pr-rowl.” She rolled the “r” on the last word, sounding like a big cat's purr.
        “Oh come on, fess up now. You have women falling at your feet.” I know I sure felt like doing so.
        “In my dreams.” She smiled. “Only in my dreams, darlin'.”
        We both fell silent for several moments.
        “Gabrielle, right?” I queried, guessing which of the characters she liked best.
        “Oh yeah, the battling bard is mighty fine.” She licked her lips.
        “Flat abs, tight butt, blonde hair, huh?”
        “Like I said, mighty fine, but…” She paused, turning a bit serious. “I'm more attracted to her eyes… her innocence. You just wanna protect her, ya know?” She took another sip of her drink. “And you're in love with Xena, right? Blue eyes, muscular body, beautiful face…”
        “Long dark hair, bronze skin… nice butt,” I interjected, finishing for her. “The way she looks at Gabrielle, sometimes. So strong … protective. Umph!”
        Our eyes met once again over our glasses; hers nearly empty and mine getting there. We both sipped and then smiled. “You read fan fiction on the Internet?” I queried.
        “Guilty as charged.”
        I was dying to ask a certain question, although reluctant to hear her answer, fearing I'd be terribly disappointed. I wasn't sure I should even reveal this about myself. What purpose could it serve?
        “I assume you do, too?” she asked.
        “Um-hm.” I lifted my glass. “Even written a few,” I admitted before putting lips to glass.
        “Really?” She sounded interested. “What site?”
        “Lynka's Xena Page.”
        “Ah, go there all the time.” She smirked, her eyes darting back and forth. “Can't say I remember a Rachael Perry, though. But, I doubt I've read them all, the site's enormous.”
        I nodded agreement; fascinated she'd remembered my full name. “It's under a pen name,” I explained. “Myself and a writing buddy: Azurenon and Savanna Mac.”
        She frowned slightly. I looked away, feeling disappointed just like I thought I would be.
        “Savanna Mac sounds familiar,” she mused, “but I can't place the… Oh-ho, wait… wait… Love Slave, right?” she asked excitedly. I smirked now, big time. “Yeah, oh yeah… I read that. You wrote that, hmm?”
        “With a partner,” I corrected. Our gazes met. I couldn't contain my smile. She'd actually read and seemingly liked one of our stories.
        “That was… hot and steamy, if I remember correctly,” she remarked.
        I arched my eyebrows and kind of shrugged. “You wrote the love scenes or… your writing buddy?”
        I was non-committal. “Well, it's a collaboration. We bounce ideas off one another.”
        “This is just a writing buddy?” she asked and I thought I detected a hint of genuine interest.
“Oh yeah. We're old friends… go way back… over 20 years. Used to be more, but… it didn't work out. We stayed friends though.” I thought about how that usually amazed most people, staying friends that long after a break up. And how very many times Savanna had played therapist over the years, always there to listen and give sage, sound advice delivered in a calm, soothing voice. She's a lot like Gabrielle, I thought and not for the first time.
“Who's who?” Regi questioned, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Who's Savanna? And what was the other name?”
“Azurenon,” I admitted, knowing this name wasn't too appealing or memorable. I glanced down. “That's me.”
She grunted, as if she wasn't particularly taken with the name either. “How do you collaborate?”
“Usually by telephone, if you can believe it. We wrote Shipmates that way and several of the earlier ones. Spent a lot of long hours on the phone, let me tell ya. She talked me into putting 'em on the Internet. She's more like Gabrielle… verbal bard, I guess you'd say. Full of wonderful ideas, just doesn't have the time to write them down.” I sighed heavily thinking of the story ideas Savanna had come up with. The beautiful prose I hadn't been able to put down on paper or work into the stories just right. I felt ashamed of my inadequacies. “I don't do her thoughts and ideas justice, I'm afraid. The sweet sensitive parts… that's Savanna. I'm just… the smut, actually.” I realized I was babbling. I needed a much bigger sip of my drink now, after revealing all that, and took it.
I thought about telling her I'd spruced up an old original story for the Internet, which was awaiting posting under an abbreviated version of my own name. But I figured I'd already revealed enough for one night, perhaps even too much.
        “Gabrielle tied Xena up in that one, didn't she?” she asked, referring to Love Slave. Those green eyes bore into mine when I looked up.
        “Xena let her,” I clarified. “It was her birthday present.”
        We both chuckled. She drained her glass and then looked over at me with a mischievous grin on her face.
        “What?” I asked, unable to keep from smiling myself.
        “I like it when you smile,” she commented, raising up and sitting her glass on the table. “Your eyes light up and… kinda sparkle.” I blushed and looked down. She reached over and lifted my chin. “Cute little laugh lines right here.” She stroked the side of my mouth with her finger. “The way your top lip curves in that little bow shape.” Her finger trailed over my lips, her eyes following. “Writer, huh? Then please, oh bard, tell me there's no subject we haven't talked about, yet.”
        “Huh?” I asked, not quite understanding what she was referring to, since she ran the two together so fast.
        Her eyes flicked up to mine as she leaned in closer. “Tell me there's nothing else you need to know… 'cuz I've got designs on these lips.” Her eyes darted back and forth searching mine.
        I was melting again beneath that soft verdant gaze. “I'm… forty-two,” I murmured. Her age was the only thing I could think of that I didn't know, but wanted to.
        “Forty-eight,” she breathed against my lips, her hand reaching down and taking hold of my glass. Long arms stretched to the table and set it down without much effort; eyes never leaving mine. “Anything else?” Her tone was low and sultry. One eyebrow slowly arched skyward.
        “Kiss me?”
        “M-my plea-sure,” she purred, right before surrounding my lips with her warm, wet, eager mouth.
        She pressed me back against the loveseat, my arms going around her neck. Our tongues danced to some internal rhythm, lips keeping pace through tender massage, breathing becoming heavy and fast, keeping tempo with our growing passion.
        I couldn't ever remember wanting anyone as badly or feeling so aroused by a single kiss. I broke away, actually panting. She continued over my cheek and down the side of my neck, while one hand cupped my breast.
  “Umm, you smell good,” she mumbled against my skin. “I want you so bad I can taste it,” she further breathed in my ear, before filling it with her wet tongue. Shivers went down both sides of my body at once. My chest arched upward of its own accord. Her hand quickly worked loose the buttons of my blouse and was soon inside. “Ooo yeah, so-o soft,” she purred, her hand cupping my bare breast. She inhaled sharply, thumb and forefinger tweaking my nipple between them.
        “Oh g-god!” I whimpered, feeling her squeeze just hard enough to mix pain with pleasure.
Seldom had I felt anything remotely close to this when anyone manipulated my nipples. For years I thought they'd lost all feeling; perhaps even gone numb as part of some pre-menopausal thing.
She tweaked it again and attacked my neck at the same instant. I groaned with pleasure, my breast pressing itself against her palm, aching for more of the same. My groin tightened; my desire throbbed like a pulse. I was almost a goner.
“Ju-ust one more thing,” I murmured.
        “Which way is the bed?”
        “By the god's woman, I thought you'd never ask,” she growled.

        We were in her bedroom –not the master- in a New York minute. When she flipped on a dim beside lamp, I noticed the bed was unmade. Wasn't expecting company? Or like me, just doesn't care to make it up? I wondered, taking in the rumpled white sheets, blue and pink mingled comforter. There was a large poster of “Wonder Woman” over the bookcase headboard. Obviously a young girl's room; hers when she lived here, I surmised.
She sat down on the bed and urged me to stand between her legs, then proceeded to remove my blouse in a very slow, seductive manner. For the first time I noticed the fine dark hair on her arms and back of her hands. Could she be any more perfect? I thought, watching her eyes peruse each bit of flesh that came into view. I could not imagine what she found appealing about my overweight body. Of course, it still had some shape, at 165lbs -if you can believe that- albeit a much bigger shape. Gravity, age, laziness and the weight gain of Zoloft had definitely taken their toll.
The blouse fell to the floor behind me, as both hands went to work on my pants. Martina Navratilova, in her younger days -dark hair, little less muscle- was reaching out with her racket to snag a tennis ball on the large poster across the room. From the corner, none other than the Warrior Princess, herself -one of the first cardboard stand-ups- stared back at me. I assumed the latter was a recent addition, unless she stayed here on weekends within the last several years.
My eyes closed, as her mouth sought and captured my breast. Great god what exquisite torture it was having her suck and nibble on those now sensitive, swollen nodes, as if she knew exactly what they needed and wanted, and even in precisely what measure to deliver it. My fingers were in her hair, gripping and releasing to the rhythm of her manipulations. My pants soon lay in a puddle around my ankles, Jockey French-cut underwear landing on top a moment later.
One hand grabbed my behind, while the other went straight to the triangular patch of hair between my thighs. “Great god woman, you're we-et!” she growled against my chest, fingers stroking lightly. “Cum'mere!”
The verbal command was merely a formality, I assumed, since I had little choice in the matter, as she pulled me down on top of her, then swiftly rolled me over. Her kiss was passionate; long, strong fingers working slow but utter magic upon the throbbing nub of my desire and soon working their way down, inching inside at regular intervals.
“Oh g-god, wa-wa-wait!” I stammered, breathlessly. I knew if I didn't slow things down -something I'd never had to do in my entire sexual experience- I was going over the edge of that precipice of pleasure in awe inspiring, record-breaking time.
“What's wrong?” she gasped, looking down at me quite concerned.
        “Well… my pants are… caught around my ankles for one,” I explained, struggling desperately even at that moment to push the Reebox off without untying them, but making little headway. “You still have your clothes on for another and… you're about to blow my mind way too soon!”
She frowned. “I can take care of those pants, but… me not having my clothes off, that bothers you?” She appeared genuinely curious.
“Of course, I wanna feel you next to me.” I brushed her hair back from her face with both hands. “You're not the only one with hands eager to touch bare flesh, ya know.”
The smirk was back and yet she growled deep in her throat as she rose to a sitting position, fingers setting to work unbuttoning her shirt. “Hey… hey… slow down,” I suggested, reaching out and touching her arm as I sat up as well, in order to untie my shoes. “Where's the fire, hmm?” I teased.
“In the pit of my stomach,” she growled, working on her pants now. “And moving down fast!” she added, then stood up, coming out of shirt, boots and jeans at a rapid pace.
I'd barely finished untying my shoes and removing the wrinkled clothes around my ankles, when she moved towards me again; that same knee landing between my legs. I raised my hands to slow her progress, palms landing on a pair of low-slung globes; dark, slightly erect center points. My questions were answered: she had lovely breasts. The kind you wished you, yourself, had so the other person would find them attractive and yet were extremely glad they were on your lover, so that you could enjoy them!
“Hold on there, cowboy,” I declared, my mouth salivating with anticipation at getting their turn with the dark nubs my fingers were already caressing. “Let's not saddle up again quite so soon, hmm?” I rubbed my thumb over one rising nipple. “I don't know about you, but… I like to take my time.”
“Cowboy?” she questioned, her voice deep and husky. “I think you better look again.” That right eyebrow was arched and quivering slightly.
“Oh, I intend to do just that, I assure you,” I responded, my eyes now moving to take in muscle from neck to shoulder; round deltoids smoothly blending into firm biceps; even firmer forearms, coated with a dusting of fine, dark hair. “Looking's not all I got in mind, either,” I added, both thumbs working back and forth across still rising nipples, while my eyes followed strong hands dangling beside shapely hips, leading to ample thighs –a few dimples of cellulite dotting the otherwise smooth surface- and further down nicely shaped knees blending into well-formed calves.
Works out, I surmised, my gaze moving back up her body now, lingering a moment longer on a dark triangle of fur, before following a trail of fine light brown fuzz over a somewhat rounded lower belly and on up to smooth, firm -though not flat- abs. Fantasy come true! I acknowledged. At least it's the closest you'll ever come to someone who even remotely resembles Xena or even that fantasy you've always had in your head. And this could turn out to be better than any fantasy, I added, my hand cupping her right breast, my mouth quickly covering it.
Inhaling sharply, she pressed her hand against the back of my head. “Judas Priest!” she hissed, throwing her head back and thrusting her chest forward.
The salty, musty flavor instantly emanating from her nipple was exquisite. My desire throbbed in unison with each successive lick, nibble and tug of my lips and tongue. I'd read about people getting this aroused in books or stories –even written about it myself- but never had my passion burned as brightly or as hot as it did at that moment! I wasn't sure what it was about her, but the sexual tension –perhaps just plain old lust- between us was so intense, so ripe, it was like an intoxicant to all my senses. Some of which I wasn't even aware I possessed until then.
A growl reverberated in her chest. She laid both hands on my shoulders and pushed me back on the bed, replacing her breast with her lips on the way down; her knee -between my legs- with firm thigh. One hand quickly slid around to my back and raised my sex to her bare flesh. A low groan emanated from both our throats, hers sounding like an echo of mine. Hips started moving rhythmically against me, while I squeezed one nipple still caught between finger and thumb. She whimpered and began the process of insinuating her entire lower body between my thighs.
Breaking away from our lips embrace, she raised her upper body and then slowly lowered her sex to mine, pressing down firmly. We both groaned in unison, my legs opening wider of their own accord and wrapping themselves around her hips. Her head flew back, mouth gaped open emitting a loud, “Uh-h-uh-uh-uh-h-h!” sound, which sent waves of desire flowing over me from head to toe. My eyelids closed of their own volition, my body arching into hers, aching for more.
When my heavy lids fluttered open again, she was staring down at me. “By the gods, woman, what you do to me,” she murmured.
        I reached up and brushed a tendril of her hair from the corner of her mouth, then ran my thumb over her lips, as she pressed herself against me once again. A full bottom lip captured my thumb, the upper soon joining in, enveloping and drawing it inside her warm, wet mouth. She caressed my thumb with her tongue, while rubbing her sex against mine in a slow, sensual manner.
I don't know how she managed it, but suddenly I felt the slick juices of her desire, followed by the hot steamy heat of exposed flesh against my own sensitive nub. “Oh-h g-g-g-god!” I gasped, not daring to move a muscle and lose this contact.
I never knew this was possible for me, even though I'd fantasized about it all ever since my very first sexual encounter, but never been able to achieve it. I felt her arms tremble, though otherwise she didn't move a muscle, not even offering to let go of my thumb. I knew, as I gazed into the wide wonder of her verdant eyes, this was not a familiar occurrence for her, either. Something special had transpired between us. Something we were both loathed to part with.
Her arms trembled again. “Oh shit!” she hissed, my thumb slipping from her mouth. I caressed her cheek, as she maintained her position. “In-cred-dible,” she mumbled. “I… don't wanna… move.”
“I know,” I breathed, fully aware I was experiencing a moment in time that may never come again.
“What I wouldn't give… to take you like this,” she growled.
That sent a jolt straight to the old desire and left it throbbing like a heartbeat pulse. She moved ever so slightly -our juices blending together- and then paused. A bit of movement… pause… More pressure, grinding her sex against me… The next movement broke the spell.
“No-o-o-o!” she hissed and then whimpered, struggling to get back to her previous position.
With both hands I caressed her face, watching her features contort in frustration. “Let it go,” I suggested softly. “If it's meant to be… it'll happen again in its own time.” I heard myself say this, though I could hardly believe the words came out of my mouth. Where the thoughts even came from I didn't know.
She stared down at me and I pulled her face toward me, our lips meeting halfway. Her elbows landed on each side of my shoulders, as she lowered the rest of her body onto mine, and settled into our lips passionate embrace.
Her hips were soon moving to the slow pace set by her lip's hungry caress and her tongue's gentle probing. My hands slid over her firm back, fingers following the indention of her spine down to her protruding buttocks. Each appendage gripped ample flesh and pressed downward in sync with her movements.
        She broke away from our lips embrace, breathing heavily, head raised, as she seemingly concentrated all her energy on her lower body's movements. My legs were wrapped around her hips once again, hands gliding up her back, mouth licking, sucking and nibbling up and down the side of her throat, neck and anything else within reach.
        “I wanna be inside you,” she murmured, her right hand moving down to my hips where it moved my left leg aside to allow her room to maneuver. My right one slid off onto the bed, where she eased her lower body astride it, fingers meanwhile caressing that sensitive bundle of nerve endings before eagerly and easily slipping inside.
        “God yes-s-s!” I nearly shouted, as two lengthy appendages filled my sanctuary and delved deeper than I expected. Her thumb soon went to work on that sensitive nub. “Oh yes-s-s… Uh-huh, uh-huh.” I shuddered as she nibbled on my neck –barely missing that sensitive spot- her fingers reaching deeper and massaging inside, thumb manipulating the outside.
        She set a slow steady pace, rubbing her own sex –hot and wet- against my thigh, while nibbling on my neck. When she hit that oh so sensitive spot, it was obvious she realized what she'd found, because she set up shop. I was a goner!
        Needless to say, it was a record-breaking, mind-blowing climax for me. There'd been no need for any of the things, to which I'd become overly accustomed and assumed necessary, in order to bring this about. It had been a natural, peaceful ascent into the heights of sheer bliss. I could hardly believe it had actually happened. The words I can't believe this, kept ringing in my ears.
        Laying beneath her -relaxingly spent- fingers still inside, I did something else I hadn't done in a long time. I cried slow, silent tears… with a smile on my face. She must have felt the dampness, for she raised her head and looked down at me. The juxtaposition of tears and a smile seemed to confuse her for a moment. She leaned over and licked a tear from my cheek and then proceeded to place a kiss lightly and tenderly upon my mouth. I tasted the salty flavor of my own tears. I don't know why, but this was like a balm to my soul. I was eager to return the pleasure she had given me, although in a bit different manner or position.
        Our kiss turned passionate in a matter of heartbeats, my free hand roaming down to her breast to cup, caress and hopefully stimulate. Evidently it worked, because her fingers came alive.
        “Umm, no,” I protested against her lips. “Let me… please you.”
        “You have. And you are,” she responded into my mouth, fingers plunging deeper.
        “Oh god, I don't think I can…”
        “Trust me, you can,” she murmured. “And you will… won't you? You'll come for me again, won't you, Rachael?” I didn't have a chance to answer –even if I could've forced anything passed the lump in my throat caused by those words- because she swiftly covered my mouth with hers.
She then proceeded to prove me grossly mistaken about what I could do, when my desire convulsed in spasms for the second time, several moments later, giving her what she'd asked for and blowing my mind completely!

Chapter 3

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