All The Wrong Places Part 4

"So," Tess said brightly. "Got a date yet?"

"Tonight," I answered. I studied Celine's elegant, lean figure before she disappeared into the general manager's dining room, and remembered the feel of her along my back. My entire body goose-pimpled.

"That didn't take long."

I glanced at Tess, and then blushed in response to Tess's knowing look. "We, um, settled things earlier."

"I thought you might." Tess's expression was exceedingly cheerful. "You seemed to be clicking."

"I hope we do."

"I meant it," she said. "I'd..."

I realized what Tess was referring to, and I wasn't sure why she was bringing it up. "I know you would. I didn't want to bother... I mean, since Celine is... "

"More than capable, I'm sure. And your type. I understand." Tess took a big bite out of her slice of chocolate bread.

I felt confused but I didn't know why, which just confused me more. I tried to lighten the air with a jest. "Well, whether she's my type remains to be seen, I guess."

"Just be safe, okay? I've got to shower and change," she announced, pushing back her chair. She wrapped the rest of her dessert in a napkin. "Did you want to demo stretching tonight?"

I nodded, taken aback by her abrupt departure. Tess was telling me to be safe? That was usually my line to her. "Yeah, it's easiest."

"I imagine the women will like it," Tess added. To my relief she was smiling in her usual way.

"I imagine." I winked at her and she looked about to say something, then headed off at high speed toward the dining room's rear exit.

I noticed more than one head turning as Tess went by. Men had always drooled over Tess, but this time there were several women with their tongues out and I felt very strange, very strange indeed.

I'd had time to shower earlier so didn't have to hurry anywhere before the evening entertainment. Clad in my usual Club Sandzibel muscle shirt, black biking shorts, club blue socks and white cross-trainers, I queued up with the other staffers in the main hall where all guests would gather for the orientation to the club and introductions. I was planning to slip in to see the pianist-singer-comic who would perform. We were all getting quite a treat, being entertained instead of the other way around. Celine Griffin was doing standup on Friday. It would be more lesbian-specific entertainment than I'd seen in the past half-decade.

Tess arrived just in time, her hair slightly damp at her scalp, but otherwise looking elegant as always. The lights went down as Randall, general manager and all-around jerk, took the stage.

In the dark I let myself think about what the night would be like with Celine Griffin. s.e.x was on my mind and it was hard to stop considering it. I realized then that Tess's light, s.e.xy cologne was wafting from her and I was practically taking hits off of it. I abruptly wanted Tess to pull me into the nearest private room and have me. I was wet and I could again hear her saying, "So, you like to be teased."

It was Celine I was going to be with, not Tess. Celine was a lesbian. Tess was straight. d.a.m.ned good in bed, sensitive, caring, compa.s.sionate, loyal, Tess was a friend. A buddy. Not a lesbian. I recalled with a shiver that shook my composure how I had choked out my begging plea that first night. I'd had enough teasing and I needed her inside me.

She had f.u.c.ked me from behind, with her fingers. I'd come fast and hard, my ears ringing with my choking moans, then felt her part my swollen lips with the tip of my favorite toy. She slid it inside me and muscles I hadn't known I had gave way with a gush of wet that made Tess gasp out, "Yes, you like that, don't you?"

I put my face in the pillows and spread my knees so I could take the toy deep. Tess paused for a moment when I groaned.

"Do you like it all the way in?"

"Yes, don't stop!"

"Hard? Or slower?"

"Slower, but all the way."

Her hair was on my back and it felt fabulous. We moved together for a long time and I became increasingly incoherent. Tess was going to take care of me, and it was as good as I'd ever had. As good as anyone had ever felt inside me. It was the same toy as always, I thought with bemus.e.m.e.nt. Same toy and yet Tess made it different. Better, somehow.

I needed to climax and I was nearly there. When I get close I can get anxious that it won't happen, that I'll get stuck turned on and high and not get the release. I put my weight on one elbow and reached between my legs with my hand.

"Let me," Tess said. "I wasn't sure... let me do that."

Our fingers tangled over my c.l.i.t. I stroked past it several times, not quite touching, then Tess pushed my hand away. "Like that," I gasped.

"You really like to be teased, don't you? Touched near, around, against, but not right on it, yes?" Her finger circled my engorged c.l.i.t. "I like to tease, but it is so incredibly hot to tease you while I f.u.c.k you, to do both at once."

I cried out and felt the contractions start. My c.l.i.t was throbbing between Tess's fingers and she pulled me back into her arms, impaling me fully on the toy. I came on her thigh, quaking in her arms. Some minutes later I realized we were coiled on the bed in a heap, both sweating, and the scent of her cologne was all over me.

Tess nudged me to move up in line and I snapped out of my triple-X reverie. Moments later we were introduced as part of the "energetic, fitness-for-fun trainers!" The boys always went first-sailing and water-ski pros, then the golf pro, tennis pro, and finally those of us who taught fitness and circus training. I never thought it was coincidence that the boys were in jobs with "pro" commonly added to them. I knew it meant they had competed professionally, but still, it could rankle, especially when their hours weren't as strenuous as mine.

The "pros" faded to the background and a burst of "Tribal Dance" sent Jerry, Rajid and me tumbling across the stage, followed by Tess, Moika and Mark. Rajid and Moika's stationary trapeze work was exceptional and most of my acrobatics I'd learned from them. We all danced a little bit, then Jerry and Mark paired off to do strength poses while Rajid walked around with Moika draped over and under his shoulders. Tess grabbed me and bent me in half. I was the rag doll and Tess posed me however she wanted.

The hooting and clapping was definitely more soprano than I could ever recall. Tess had been right-our routine was approved by the ladies. When Tess straddled me to grab my ankles and pull them over my head I realized that my crotch was pointed at the room. I had a momentary panic that the fact that I was wet (again) would show, but then Tess quickly rolled me over. Just as well because my nipples were hard and really-I might want to get to know some of these women up close, but I didn't want them all to know that much about me.

I tackled Tess and put her through her stretches. Standing, she had one foot on the floor while I held the other pointed directly at the ceiling. My back was to the rest of the staff and the LOVE women were raising a riot. I couldn't help myself. I looked down at Tess's torso and gave the audience an appreciative wink.

After the howling abated I heard Tess ask furiously, "What did you do?"

We joined the other staffers in line, finished with a few seconds of line dancing, then bounded off the stage, the quintessence of energy. The "pros" were already in the bar, I was sure.

"I didn't do anything," I told Tess. "Except maybe make it clear that you are one beautiful woman."

Tess regarded me open-mouthed. "Why did you do that? Trying to get me a date?"

"No, I, not at all. I thought-I was just giving them what they wanted."

Tess gave me the strangest look, p.i.s.sed off, flattered and flabbergasted all in one. "I don't need help getting dates, Brandy."

"I know that."

"Sometimes I think you need gla.s.ses."

"What does that mean?"

We paused at the door to the bar. It was our habit after introductions to grab a drink and mingle. It increased turnout and Club Sandzibel customer surveys reported that people who worked out were more likely to return for more vacations. Besides, it was more fun to lead cla.s.ses often than two.

A woman I'd noticed at the pool earlier paused next to Tess. Ignoring me completely, she said, "Are we still on for that drink?"

Tess then did what I'd seen her do many times-but never before with a woman. She stepped a little closer, pushed her hair over her shoulder and gave the woman a slow blink that said yes was a possibility if the rest of the evening went well.

And then Tess went into the bar with the bleached-blonde tart!

When Tess went with some guy I watched for a bit, to make sure he seemed okay. I always told her to be safe. If I was the least bit concerned, I'd stop for a word or two, and give the guy the "eye." That was the look that said Tess had a friend who would remember everything about him and wasn't afraid to make s.h.i.t up to the cops if it would put his sorry a.s.s in jail. I might be small, but from time to time I have been told I am scary.

Tess was sitting down with this... this... s.l.u.t of a d.y.k.e, and Tess didn't even know what d.y.k.es are like. She was defenseless in the d.y.k.e dating pool. She didn't know the U-Haul syndrome, for starters. What was she thinking?

What happened to guys?

Part of me wanted to be happy for her if she was going to play for our team. I mean, Tess is fan-f.u.c.king-tastic in bed. But I had thought that our encounters were just a special thing between us, not that just any bimbo d.y.k.e from who knows where would get to feel the way Tess made me feel. It wasn't right.

It just wasn't right.

I stopped myself from barging in, stopped myself from a.s.serting some sort of right. I had no rights to Tess. We were f.u.c.k buddies and friends. Not lovers. Not dating. Not-well, if we weren't any of those things, d.a.m.n it, it was because Tess was straight. And I would think that if she wasn't straight anymore, if she'd decided she was bi, or whole-hog d.y.k.e, well, she'd tell me.

Why, she was with a guy just last... month? Wait, it was that Robert guy, when was he? February, had to be, so two months ago, wait-mistletoe. She'd felt okay with him because he'd snagged a piece of fake mistletoe and brought it over to kiss her, very romantic, the kind of move she liked. Mistletoe meant December.

Dumbfounded, I realized that Tess hadn't been with a guy for over four months. We'd had our first night together October 12, Columbus Day. And I would never forget that. We'd been together again on Halloween. And... Thanksgiving. Buddies, backrubs, that's all it meant.

And in all that time there'd been this Robert guy. I just hadn't noticed there weren't any after him. Tess had described him as a bit of a dud. And we'd been together New Year's Day in the afternoon, and fought back against all that romantic nonsense on Valentine's by having a grand time. St. Patrick's I'd worn a new green toy we were both curious to try.

I was so confused. So very confused to watch Tess flirt with this other woman like she meant it. It felt like I was losing something, like... Tess would never want me now. She could have any lesbian she wanted. I wasn't just competing with guys now-and really, d.y.k.e ego says there was no compet.i.tion. Now I was competing with other d.y.k.es for this incredible woman.

Tess never stayed for breakfast and as I stood there, watching her tangle her fingers with the n.o.body from nowhere, I realized I really wanted her to stay for breakfast.

For the first time in my life I wanted to say about another woman, "She's with me."

"You look like somebody stole your lollipop."

I nearly jumped, but managed to look somewhat graceful-I hoped-when I turned to face Celine Griffin. "No, just watching out for a friend."

Celine nodded as if she understood. She looked exceedingly elegant in a pair of raw silk trousers and an open-crocheted short-sleeved sweater over a nearly sheer, spaghetti-strapped tank top. "I was just going to get a drink before heading to the show."

"What a good idea," I said. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. I hoped you would."

When we pa.s.sed Tess and whoever-she-was, Celine's hand was on my hip. Tess saw us. She even gave me a little wink. Her color was high and I was pretty sure she wouldn't be knocking on my door later. Well, I wasn't going to be knocking on hers either. So there.

I didn't care if Tess saw that as I perched on a stool Celine's hips were between my spread knees. I was going to bed with Celine Griffin and I was going to enjoy it. When we left, frothy mudslides in hand, Celine's palm was in that zone between protectively guiding me with pressure on my lower back and openly cupping my a.s.s. I caught the scent of Tess's cologne as we went by, but Tess never looked up.

Chapter Three.

I'd have never said that a woman with a piano, telling jokes and imitating a cow's moo would put a roomful of d.y.k.es on the floor, but it did. The presence of children-lots of them, who knew d.y.k.es had so many kids!-kept the humor and conversation G-rated. I felt comfortable sitting next to Celine, laughing as heartily as she was. I was even able to put Tess out of my head for a while.

A few people wanted to chat with Celine after the program, so I waited, wishing I'd had a chance to change out of my workout clothes. I glimpsed Tess leaving with her date and wondered what on earth had gotten into me. And heck, what had gotten into her?Nothing's changed, I thought. Nothing at all. You want to go to bed with Celine and you wish you were wearing the tight black minidress and cheeky panties, that's all. Instead I was in my day-in-day-out uniform of workout clothes and cross-trainers.

Well, Celine hadn't seemed to mind earlier. Maybe I could stop and change.

The matter was settled when she turned away from the small group she'd been chatting with and said, "Let's have that drink we discussed earlier, shall we?"

The speculative glances among the women behind her rankled somewhat. I hoped none of them thought I was some sort of straight celebrity junkie. I was a d.y.k.e celebrity junkie, and not really a celebrity junkie, no more than the average lesbian. Forget Tess and what anyone else thought. I thought Celine was hot, and she made my mouth water. It really was that simple.

"Whatever you want to pour," I said lightly, and we turned in the direction of Village Square. Celine continued across the plaza toward building A. I don't know why she didn't say anything. I was quiet because I was having a hard time swallowing.

The guests' rooms only looked s.p.a.cious and orderly when they were unoccupied, so I was surprised-especially given how much luggage Celine had had-that her room was quite tidy. A towel was draped over a chair to dry and a pair of scuffs were tucked under the double bed nearest the door. The table was the only unruly zone: a closed laptop was nearly hidden by several folders and a variety of books stacked haphazardly.

A bottle of bourbon and two plastic cups-standard Club Sandzibel issue-sat on the gla.s.s-topped dresser next to a sweating ice bucket.

"This okay?" Celine untwisted the cap while I wondered if I should sit down.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I didn't get to change."

"We're both wearing work clothes." She indicated her own attire with a wave of one hand. "This isn't my preferred date clothing."

Okay, we were having a date. I hadn't been sure. We'd skipped over that detail. I watched her hands move as she spoke, aware that I wanted to feel those hands caressing me with the same confidence with which she handled the ice and bourbon. "What would you rather be wearing?"

"Jeans. I know it seems cliche, but jeans, black T, and.. a little something extra if I'm interested in a woman the way I am you."

I couldn't swallow again. The thought of what she described, and the echoes of our earlier conversation about control, left me speechless.

"Please, sit down. Have I shocked you? I know my onstage persona doesn't really say Top Who Likes to Pack Sometimes, does it?"

I struggled to find my voice as I sank into one of the two rattan chairs. She'd think I was some sort of gauche neophyte if I didn't speak. "I'm not shocked. I feel like... we've hit the ground at high speed, that's all. I'm not sure I can keep up."

"I have multiple speeds, even reverse." She recapped the bourbon while regarding me with a crooked smile. I realized that I was feeling as inexperienced as Paige probably had this morning. It's not like I've never played the way Celine was hinting at, but never with someone so... confident. And probably competent.

"I can say d.i.l.d.o, lube..." My voice gave out as other possibilities-courtesy of the Good Vibrations catalogue-crossed my mind.

"What about harness? Dental dam? c.o.c.k, plug?"

"Yes, though I've less experience with some of those." Okay, I'd never used a dental dam, and only read about b.u.t.t plugs. c.o.c.k was just a word. I didn't mind it, but Tess and I usually used "toy." I shouldn't be thinking about Tess right now, anyway, and if that bleached-blonde d.y.k.e liked to be teased.

Celine handed me my bourbon on the rocks and we tipped the plastic cups in a casual toast. "Bonds, latex, candle wax?"

I took a quick swallow of the bourbon. She was watching me intently. It both rea.s.sured and rattled me. She wanted to know how far I would go, which meant she would go pretty far herself. "None of those."

She knelt in front of me, putting one hand on my thigh. "How about something simple? Blindfold?"

Part of me wanted to ask why we couldn't just f.u.c.k. Why did there need to be more than sweaty heat and eager hands? "Can we see how it goes? How we feel?"

"Of course," she said softly. She sipped her bourbon, then set the gla.s.s down. Her hand eased toward my inner thigh.

"I'm just a little startled," I admitted. "I'm usually the one who... you know..."

"Seduces?"

I smiled a little. Her cologne was wonderfully complex-a hint of something floral, but spicy with an edge of musk. "I never make the first move. But once a move is made... I consider my options. And I guess after that I do the seducing. But most of my opportunities are with straight women who are curious. So... I'm usually the one who says what goes because they haven't much of a clue."

"I see. So I am making you nervous."