All The Wrong Places Part 7

I blushed. I wasn't used to someone a.s.sessing me while I was wearing the thing. I'd feel more comfortable when I was f.u.c.king her. I blushed harder as my mind gave me an antic.i.p.atory vision of what that would be like, to be on top of Tess and feel her body rise and fall because of what I was doing to her.

"I can't believe we're doing this." Her voice was low and soft.

"I can't believe what you've already done to me."

"I loved it." She slowly brought her fingertips to my nipples, which responded almost instantly to her touch. "Touching you was... not what I expected. I didn't think it could feel so good."

I cupped her hands against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "You have great hands. They feel wonderful. But if you don't stop, we'll never get to the fun for you."

She gave me a nervous glance. "Are you sure? I mean, that you want to do this?"

My voice raspy with desire, I said, "I'm going to enjoy it. Are you sure?"

"Yes, please," she said quickly. "Everything I felt before, I feel it ten times more now."

I thought about the hours she had spent making every nerve in my body come to life, and I thought how good her skin had felt against mine. Gently, looking directly into her eyes, I pushed her back on the bed. She melted under me, making me feel like a sun G.o.ddess.

I kissed her jaw, then nuzzled her ear. "Talk to me, tell me what will feel good."

"Right now," she said hoa.r.s.ely, "I want that thing inside me."

Resting my weight on one elbow, I reached between her legs.

My fingers were swimming in her hot, thick wetness. Slippery and soft, her lips were the most sensuous thing I'd touched in ages.

She mewled softly. "Please, I can't take being teased."

"I'm not teasing," I said. "I'm going to f.u.c.k you, Tess, the way you want it." I sank two fingers in her, then brought them up to circle her c.l.i.t. "I'm opening you up so you can take it. So it can slide in so easy. So... oh, that feels good, doesn't it?"Her legs had wrapped around my thighs as I rubbed her hardening c.l.i.t. She let out a startled cry and I realized she was climaxing, everything rigid and tight against my hand. I hurriedly wet the toy with my slick hand and pushed the head against her opening.

She was gasping for breath, and I saw tears in her eyes. "Please, Brandy, please, f.u.c.k me-take me-just have me- please."

I'd never used something so big and I was afraid I'd hurt her, but she knew what she wanted and I pushed in. She was crying and moaning and I started to move, faster and faster. Her chest was flushed with need. Her eyes glimmered with tears.

"I'm sorry." She panted for breath. "Sorry, you have to f.u.c.k me so hard-"

I shushed her. "You are so hot and so s.e.xy, Tess. I love doing this. I'm just getting started."

"Don't stop." She grasped my shoulders with her hands. The sound of our bodies meeting was delicious. The level of her abandon was so high I could only marvel. I loved women, and she felt simply fabulous under me. Like nothing I'd ever felt before.

Her eyes were tightly shut and her nails were starting to dig into my shoulders. "Please don't stop, please don't come yet, please-"

"Look at me, Tess." I slid in so deep she gasped and her eyes flew open. "I'm a woman, and I can f.u.c.k you all night. All day. I won't stop, and I will love every second of it."

"Brandy." She wrapped her arms around me tight, pulling me down until all my weight was on her. Our hips were grinding together. I stayed with her movements, even as they became more and more exaggerated. I don't know how long we stayed that way, but, like less, I was feeling hungrier and hungrier with each pa.s.sing minute. I wanted to do this all night, slide in and out of her, feel her dancing under me.

She was close again, close for a long time, then she groaned and I felt her body swell. Very close now. I could feel it in the tautness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the grip of her muscles on the toy.

"Until you're done. I won't leave you feeling like this. You feel so good under me, so sweet and hot. G.o.d, it's wonderful to f.u.c.k this way."

She cried out and her fists came down on my back and we writhed together, arms and legs locked, straining so hard against each other I thought one of us would surely break.

A few minutes later, after Tess had blown her nose and had a drink of water, she managed a weak smile. "That was... closer than I've ever gotten. Thank you."

I was a little puzzled because earlier it had sounded like she didn't stop after two, especially when the first one was pleasing, but small. I wondered if I'd done something wrong, or if she thought if we did more I wouldn't take care of her. I nearly said something inane, but her nipples gave her away. Still hard, they told me she was turned on.

"We're not done." I rubbed the underside of one nipple with my fingertip. "I want to f.u.c.k you again. And again."

A shudder traveled the length of her body and her arms were dusted in goose flesh. "You don't have to... I've already..."

"You think I'm tired? That I'm just doing you a favor?"

She didn't answer, but her eyes were clouded with doubt.

"I'm not tired, Tess. And believe me, the pleasure is all mine." I took her hand and placed it on my soaked crotch. "Feel that? I love pleasing you."

"Oh ..." she breathed. Her fingers curled into my wet c.u.n.t. "You feel good, I didn't know. I could touch you all night-"

"No, right now we're taking care of you," I said firmly.

Tess stared at me with eyes that seemed frightened, not of me, but of herself. "It's just one night," she finally said, in a broken voice. "I'm not like this all the time, I promise."

"Even if you were, what's wrong with that? What's wrong with feeling really good?"

"You're not just a-a d.i.l.d.o to me." She pointed at the heavy toy. "I-"

"And you weren't either, Tess. We're friends, remember? I care about how you feel. And right now, I think we're talking too much. I want to f.u.c.k you again."

She gasped and it was all I needed. I couldn't stop talking after that. Words I'd thought but never said bubbled out of me, about how good cold lube could feel drizzled on a hot c.l.i.t, the way her nipples felt in my mouth when they hardened. I explored her body in more detail than I had even my own. Using just my hand I played in her c.u.n.t, opening, stroking, f.u.c.king, ma.s.saging the inside of her, my groans matching hers as her body responded.

With my hand covered in lube I could go deep. I was in past my knuckles with my thumb on her c.l.i.t. I'd never done more than that to any woman but Tess might be open enough to take my whole hand. But it seemed like ... like I ought to ask, and I didn't want to stop to ask, not when she was going to come for me this way.

I didn't want her to think I was going to hurt her or that I wanted to hurt her. I wasn't sure I wouldn't, even with all the lube and how much it felt like she could take. I'd read about it but never thought I'd be with a woman where it seemed possible. More than possible, it seemed natural to the way Tess felt inside.

I wasn't sure I could do it, either, even though it seemed like it would be easy with her. I wasn't a macho s.l.u.t, a bedroom daddy or any other Bad Girl I'd read about in books. I was just me. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go inside her, fill her completely. I thought she would love it, she felt so hot and open, but doing that to her seemed like something a lover would do, and I wasn't her lover. I could use on her the toy she allowed, but to fist her-she wasn't mine that way.

I turned my fingers to stroke her steadily.

"Brandy, don't stop, oh please."

"I won't, I won't. I'm filling you up and you are going to come on my hand." I pushed hard, spreading my fingers inside her. "All over my hand."

She seemed startled when climax hit her, as if coming this way, with only my fingers inside her, wasn't part of what she thought she needed on a night like tonight. Like the o.r.g.a.s.m before she got tight, then astonishingly open and wet. I felt waves of contractions around my hand, then she relaxed slightly.

I looked down into her face, and found her staring up at me. She wanted to ask for more but I could tell something was holding her back. Fear I would say no or laugh? That I'd roll over and go to sleep? "Feel that?"

She nodded frantically.

"I'm getting this nice, big toy all slippery again."

A tiny whimper escaped her.

"Now I'm going to push it inside you, inside you where you want it."

"Please"

I looked down at the toy as I guided it inside her, amazed that something so thick could disappear with such ease. The sound it made opening her up again tightened my spine and we were in each other's arms again, holding tight, straining.

Her body seemed to swell when I went in and flatten when I pulled out. The effect of my every move was profound and I found myself whispering in her ear, "It feels so good, Tess, so good to be on top of you. To f.u.c.k you and feel how much you like it."

For several minutes all she could say, in a desperate, ragged voice, was, "Don't stop."

"I will take care of you," I had said, over and over, and when she came we hadn't stopped. I had slathered the toy and my hand with lube and we started all over.

Water trickling around my toes brought me back to where I was. The tide had shifted enough that a particularly energetic wave had reached my shady spot. I rose to dust myself free of sand and tiny sh.e.l.ls. h.e.l.l, I was almost late to afternoon Body Pump.

Celine was there but to my own surprise, while I felt quite warm and friendly to see her, I wasn't overwhelmed with the desire to drag her off to a private place and repeat some or all of the previous night's activities. She smiled at me with a decided twinkle, but my ego wasn't bruised in the least that she was chatting flirtatiously with one of the other guests. It had been fantastic, but I had to face facts. Fantastic, but Celine wasn't Tess.

And I was a fool to let that matter.

Endorphins, as I've studied and experienced, can work for you, even if you're feeling like an idiot loser dumbs.h.i.t with no more sense than a baby to go falling in love with a friend and a woman who may just be dabbling in lesbian s.e.x. Tess would be mortified to know how I felt. Lord knows, I was pretty embarra.s.sed.

I led the large group through lunges, lifts, balance workouts and squats, and all the while I was thinking, "You're in love with her, and you want more than you've got with her, and if she finds out it's all over."

Madeline had broken my heart, smashed it into tiny bits. She'd wanted s.e.x with me like crazy, had loved to f.u.c.k me, go down on me, everything. And I'd loved being with her. I really had thought she wasn't straight. At a minimum, she was bi. I thought she was in love with me, the person, and that I was a woman who had some definite pluses. She left me for a law school grad with a guaranteed six-figure job at his daddy's firm. I could understand marrying for security, though it wasn't something I thought I'd ever do. What I didn't understand was her parting shot: "Besides, you're a woman. Two women can't build a future and a family. It's just a sham."

At the time, crying too hard to even answer, I hadn't really thought about what a crock of s.h.i.t that was, and how much Madeline must have hated herself to think that no matter what woman she hooked up with she couldn't make it real.

Just thinking about it p.i.s.sed me off all over again. I wasn't going to let Tess hurt me that way, but h.e.l.l, what was I thinking? Tess and I were f.u.c.k buddies. We weren't about love and forever and wanting s.h.i.t like that. We were free to do anybody we liked, and for her, that could include every guy on the premises and I wasn't supposed to care.

Except I did care. Not about guys, but about other women.

I cared about Bleachie and if she'd made Tess feel better than I had. I cared that Tess seemed angry with me about something, and I cared that I had had a fabulous night of s.e.x but had no desire to repeat it if it wasn't with Tess.

I was supposed to be a free bird. I wanted to be. I wanted to act on my feelings, and feel love with anyone who tightened my skin and gave my heart that flutter. Celine had done that yesterday. All of these women had done that yesterday, but today I wanted Tess.

This was a revolting turn of events and as far I could tell, it was up to me to fix it. This was not Tess's problem. Maybe I was just jealous, worried about being upstaged by other d.y.k.es. I had to get over being jealous of Bleachie. Maybe I should go to bed with Bleachie. Maybe Tess and I could both go to bed with Bleachie.

My body did respond to that thought. I switched the cla.s.s over to slower-paced arm lifts and realized that I had no trouble picturing me showing Bleachie how Tess liked to be touched.

But then the fantasy got fuzzy. My mind kept wanting to turn it toward Tess and me sending Bleachie out for ice or pizza or something, and Bleachie being gone for a long time, like, oh, forever, while Tess and I made love and just plain f.u.c.ked ourselves silly for hours, days, years. Instead, reality intruded. Bleachie learned all my moves and then it was me who went out for ice and found the door locked on my return.

She's a free woman, I told myself. Try to capture her and she'll leave you. If she figures you want more than holiday f.u.c.ks and midnight brownies, she'll leave you. If you act jealous, she'll leave you. If you do anything but what you've done for the last six months, she'll leave you.

I hate having to think this hard. I hate having to wonder if it's possible to get dumped by somebody who doesn't even think you're a couple.

Celine gave me a friendly wave as she walked off with her new flirting pal. I found the presence of mind to tip a pretend hat to her. My arms were screaming from using the twenty-pound weights that morning, and I stank to high heaven. It was my afternoon off, and what I really needed was a shower and a nap.

I had the shower, but sleep refused to come to bed with me, as no doubt Tess would next time I asked.

The sight of the dining room full of women, women and, for a change, more women, lifted my spirits. I treated myself to a heap of fresh strawberries and Greek salad with chicken in a light pesto.

"I remember how you like it." Marianne-in charge of soup, cheeses and bread-added extra fontina to the bowl before ladling in the French onion soup.

"If you weren't already married, I'd be on my knees begging," I told her.

She regarded me with a twinkle as she dusted a crumb from her matronly bosom. "I tell my husband I have attractive girl who wants to marry me. Know what he say? He say, bring her home, we all have fun."

"Your husband," I observed after we stopped laughing, "is a dirty old man."

If anything, she twinkled harder. "That's why I love him, yes?"

"You give me hope, Marianne." I hoisted my steaming bowl and dinner plate and realized I had enough cheese to harden my arteries on the spot. Well, maybe if they got hard my heart would as well.

Tess was probably scrambling into her Sunday evening costume. Tonight, the LOVE comedienne who'd performed last night was hosting our takeoff of the Gong Show. Tess's belted-out version of "What Now My Love?" usually brought the house down, especially when, during a particularly deep breath, the waist of her skirt popped open to display elaborate pantaloons that said "kick me" on the b.u.t.t. This never failed to make the children howl, and the louder the kids laughed, the more the grownups did too.

My job for the show was behind the scenes-pinning costumes, drawing the curtains and rolling scenery up and down. I often thought I got off easy. The resort preferred to hire multi-talented staffers, ones who could not only do their a.s.signed work, like reception managers and chefs, but double as entertainers. My "talent" during the interview had been a hastily contrived tumbling routine, ending with a nothing-short-of-miraculous handstand walk.

I had needed the job, and badly. My parents heartily disapproved of my chosen "mannish" major, but their disapproval of my "deviance" was infinitely more hearty. Perverts were on their own. Only in my most generous moments was I thankful they had at least-as promised to both my brother and me- paid for college. Of course my younger brother, Roger, got tuition and room and board so working wouldn't interfere with his business major, while I was tuition-only. Physical education wasn't really studying, you know.

I was on my own after that. Roger, the pig, was as big a h.o.m.ophobe as my parents were. I hoped they all choked on their Baltimore air. Someday I hope no longer to care anything about them.

I had walked across that d.a.m.n stage on my hands, then back-flipped twice, a feat I'd never equaled since. And I got the job, making a living using my college education. Mostly. It didn't pay terribly well, but I lived for free. The hours were long, six days a week, and management completely arbitrary. I would have liked a car, cell phone and broadband, but I would have hardly had time to enjoy them. And I knew that I could work just as many hours, in just as frustrating circ.u.mstances, flipping burgers for the same disposable income. In my odd hours here I got to dig my toes in the sand. The sunshine, pool and weekly morning round of golf were all free.

Tomorrow the circus tumbling lessons began. Thursday night was the big circus show featuring all the kids who were allowed to practice on the trapeze and mats. I liked teaching them and then watching them do it with the lights and music. It beat stuffing fries into paper bags any day.

When I'd dragged myself back out of bed before dinner I decided against my usual practical workout attire. Instead I'd found a lightweight pair of black slacks and a sage green sleeveless shirt. That combination worked well with my hair, tamed with detangling spray. At the very last minute I'd clipped on simple gold earrings. I wasn't sure why I was making an effort. I wasn't trying to catch anyone's attention and Tess had seen the outfit once a week for the last two years. It might have pa.s.sed for simple elegance but for the Club Sandzibel nametag, required at all but off-duty times. The tag's red background clashed with both shirt and hair, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Randall, who knew how to ruin just about any good mood, commented, "A bit dressed for a stagehand, aren't you?"

I ignored him, which was my usual policy and had so far served me well. I hoped Tess was right and he'd be shipped out soon. The club music in the general seating area was dying down and, forgetting all about me, Randall dashed onstage to introduce the evening's entertainment. The next sixty minutes were busy, but we all knew the pacing. I had the sets down in time and still managed to help Tess out of her costume after her bit.

"Thanks," she muttered as I finally got a knot out of the last tie.

"That's three that weren't right. Were you in some sort of hurry?" I didn't mean to smirk or sound curious, but I did, no getting around that.

"Something like that. Gloria tried to help, but she wasn't as good at it as you."

I nearly asked if Gloria was not as good at other things, but I thought better of it, just in time. Tess sped off to make a quick change for the final dance number.

After the show I filed out with everyone else. The night air was hot and sticky and I noticed most of the women were heading for their rooms. I didn't blame them. It wasn't a night to sit out by the pool. I thought about a cold drink, realized I could have one for free in my own quarters and told myself it wouldn't hurt me in the least to spend the night alone. Even if Celine wanted to do more, my body could probably use a little recovery time. Certainly my arms were still telling me about those twenty-pound weights.

"Brandy!" Celine broke away from a cl.u.s.ter I hadn't noticed and I paused to let her catch up to me. "Do you think we'd have any luck getting the D.J. in the disco to change the music? What do you think?"

"Can't hurt to ask," I said. "They do have to balance the tastes of the whole bar."

"There's n.o.body in there and I got a kind of a grunt when I asked."

Had to be Emilio, whose att.i.tude drove me nuts. Emilio knew best what we ought to dance to, so of course any requests to the contrary were met with a sneer. I had told Tess that Emilio must have learned customer service at a music store for the fatally hip. Randall liked Emilio because he could get the place hopping and trays of drinks were consumed. Every week was different, though.