Escape to Pleasure

by Sandy Lowe

  “Shay. Shay Thomas.”

  The woman nodded. “I was named Flying Raven. Call me Raven.”

  “How did I get here?” Shay glanced around the tidy one room cabin, then out the open door to the forest beyond.

  “I carried you. A mile from the west.” Raven pointed behind her.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cause you trouble.”

  Raven slung a water pouch across one shoulder and a small sack over the other before strapping a hunting knife to her thigh. “Come on,” she said before walking out.

  Shay stood on shaky legs. The room momentarily spun before it righted itself. She gulped in air and made her way to the opening. The sun was low in the sky. Heat shimmered off the dry packed earth. A warm breeze ruffled her hair. So many questions needed answering. She’d left her home in the city in search of a simpler, uncomplicated retreat from concrete and steel. A distraction from everyday life. Raven was certainly providing one. She hesitated, watching Raven watch her as she waited at the mouth of a path. She’d never been overly concerned with her body. It was in good shape for someone who thought going to the gym was just another form of punishment, though now that she was about to be strutting around naked next to a goddess, she wished she’d caved like everyone else she knew and indulged in some torture herself. Raven motioned to her, and Shay was compelled to follow wherever Raven led.

  Before too long, they stood at the edge of a clear pond. The waterfall on the opposite side fell gently from a crevice in the rocks far above them. The soft sound reminded her of rain, lulling her mind, even as she trembled with anticipation. The heat from Raven’s body was like the heat wave that had taken her down. Flashes of moments during her hike began to filter into her conscience before Raven took her hand.

  “You need this.” Raven guided her into the cool water.

  Her body shivered at the sudden change in temperature and her skin broke out in gooseflesh. She was afraid she might pass out again. Afraid she’d sink below the water’s surface and disappear into an abyss where even Raven wouldn’t be able to go. So much like her everyday life, where she appeared so together but a torrent of unease and unrest bubbled below. Shay’s nipples tightened. Why am I here? Nothing made sense.

  She’d collapsed in the forest. From the slant of the sun, she’d lost hours. How long had she been unconscious? Where had this woman come from? As far as she could tell, there wasn’t supposed to be anyone around for miles. At least, that’s what the guidebook told her. The idea that Raven was a figment of her imagination crossed her mind. She was being ridiculous. The woman was quite real.

  Raven cupped water in her hands and poured it over Shay’s chest. The rivulets ran down her body and blended with the pond’s surface. She glanced back up and met Raven’s shimmering eyes before Raven slid her fingertips along Shay’s shoulder, sending a bolt of electricity through her, reaching her core, sparking it to life. The touch set her body on fire as Raven’s hand followed the water’s path and disappeared below the surface to find her quivering folds.

  “You journeyed to this place for rejuvenation. I am here…” Raven’s finger slid inside and brushed her clit. “For you.”

  Her knees buckled. She had no idea how this woman knew what she needed or how desperately she wanted it. She’d been functioning on autopilot. Rising, working, sometimes eating, then sleeping. It had been months since she’d let a woman touch her. Even longer since she’d enjoyed the feel of another inside her. This—this was even more uncharacteristic for her than with the women she picked up at the bar. At least there’d been conversation and drinks. Maybe some dancing before they’d leave to engage in a few hours of pleasure. The kind of mindless pleasure she allowed herself because anything more, anything with substance or the slightest hint of commitment, sent her running in the opposite direction.

  “I’ve got you.” Raven wrapped her arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Let go.”

  Shay’s brain froze. “What?”

  Raven pressed deeper.

  “I am here for you. It is what you seek.”

  Raven captured her mouth. The thrust of Raven’s tongue matched the timing of her strokes. Raven added another finger and Shay gasped, experiencing a metaphorical fullness missing from her life. I should fight. I shouldn’t give in. These were the same words she told herself whenever someone cared. Whenever a woman wanted to provide Shay with a safety net. A place to call home.

  Giving in was exactly what she longed to do. She pressed her hips forward and sought the flavor of Raven’s mouth again. Their tongues moved in an age-old dance for supremacy.

  “You want to come,” Raven whispered in her ear. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. Oh God, yes.” Her voice sounded desperate. She was desperate. She snaked her fingers in Raven’s silken tresses and pulled her head back, looking into smoldering eyes. “Take me.”

  Raven growled. Withdrew. Filled Shay again. Her thumb struck Shay’s clit, demanding her flesh to respond. She backed Shay against a smooth boulder warmed by the sun. Lifting her body with her thigh, Raven held her head. Watching. Always watching.

  Shay felt herself open. Felt Raven’s knuckles graze against her clit then enter her. Raven’s hand filled her, circling inside as Raven stroked her inner ridge. The orgasm rushed through her and she roared her release in response. The spasms took possession of her body, jerking hard with Raven locked inside. She moaned until her throat was raw.

  Raven slid out and Shay regained control of her body. She pushed back, forcing Raven down on the grass-carpeted bank while she stood in knee-deep water. She lifted Raven’s legs onto her shoulders and inhaled her musky scent, tracing her slick folds with her thumbs to expose the engorged knot. Shay plunged her tongue into Raven and reached for a nipple, pulling and tugging, kneading the handful of flesh. Raven bucked against her face, clearly wanting more.

  “Use this.”

  Shay glanced along Raven’s glistening body. She laid a double-headed dildo across her stomach and Shay groaned. She knew the pleasure this toy would bring them both; the simultaneous sensation of fucking and being fucked. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed sex with abandon. Shay took the shorter end and pressed it inside her soaked opening, liking how it filled her. She held the shaft of her cock at Raven’s opening and pressed her hips forward, watching it disappear. Raven hissed. Shay hungered to kiss Raven’s full lips and found her mouth willing. The kiss deepened with every thrust, and Shay tightened the walls of her inner muscles. The short strokes drove the ridge of the toy against her rock-hard clit. Her climax neared as Raven ran her short fingernails down her back. She grabbed Shay’s ass, pulling, and the dildo sank deeper. Raven cried out, her spasm locking Shay inside, and she rode the length of it until she fell into the same abyss, collapsing into Raven’s waiting arms.

  She had no idea how much time had passed. Raven’s head was buried between her legs and her masterful tongue stroked her engorged sex. Their eyes met. This was her chance to ask—to demand—what she longed for Raven to do.

  “More.”

  Raven sucked and licked, flicking her tongue with just enough pressure to bring Shay to the brink before changing course and surrounding her clit with her lips, gently pulling it deeper into her mouth, then easing away. The wet heat of Raven’s mouth left her craving more contact and she grabbed her head, guiding her closer to her hot center. Her lips closed over the shaft again and her tongue beat a steady rhythm on Shay’s oversensitive knot. With a primordial roar, Shay climaxed. Her hips shook violently as the orgasm spiraled outward through her arms and legs, weighing them down.

  Shay panted. The kaleidoscope behind her eyelids slowed, like a pinwheel that had been caught in a gust of wind before being released to a gentle breeze. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to explode. She focused on steadying her ragged breathing. Raven held the water pouch to her parched lips. She drank for a long time, wondering what else Raven had in store for her. Shay let her pull her to her feet an
d lead her to the waterfall, where Raven tenderly washed her. Lily pads served as a cloth. Flowers as shampoo. They walked to the cabin in silence, her sex sore. She hadn’t been this relaxed in years.

  Her clothes were waiting in a pile on a small table. She looked inside her backpack. It had been restocked with food and water. Raven tucked a flower behind her ear, then lightly trailed her fingertips over Shay’s cheek, along her jaw, and ended at the hollow of her throat. Raven captured her lips with such tenderness it moved her to tears. All too soon the connection was severed when Raven stepped away.

  “It’s time for you to go. To continue your journey.” She paused at the doorway and smiled. “You have much left to do, Shay. Do not stray from your path. Stay centered.”

  Shay took her time dressing. She couldn’t explain what had happened, or why. All she knew was Raven had been a godsend. Yesterday she’d almost given up. Her life seemed hopeless and there had been nothing to look forward to. There was no one to go home to. No one except her best friend would miss her unless she failed to show up for work. Yesterday’s melancholy, which had been her constant companion, seemed a distant memory.

  Today was a different day indeed. Today someone did care about her. Whether she ever saw Raven again didn’t seem as important as knowing she’d been put on Shay’s path for a reason, and the reason was clearer. Her life wasn’t as mundane as she’d thought. There were adventures ahead of her, if she was open to them.

  Shay hefted her pack. She should be exhausted, but she was anything but. The map poking out of the zippered pouch was wrinkled but intact. There was handwriting where there had been none.

  “You are here.” Shay suppressed a laugh. The Appalachian Trail was a quarter of a mile away from where she stood. She let her fingertip follow the red line to an X. Forty-two miles. Three days. Maybe four.

  She folded the map, then tucked it back into its pocket, hoping the next leg of her trip would prove as pleasurable as this one had turned out to be.

  The Girl in the Taxicab

  Angora Shade

  Angora Shade (angorashade.blogspot.com) is an American erotic romance author living in Europe. She enjoys creating stories that surprise, amuse, or tease the reader, providing an alternative outlook to the monotony of someone’s usual day.

  Mae stretched her neck, her chin to the sky, allowing the late afternoon sun to soak her face. She inhaled the rich atmosphere of the busy city with its rush of people on the sidewalks, aromas wafting from food kiosks amidst the bombardment of color and sound that was a near-constant assault. She would miss Tokyo, but her two weeks of lone self-adventure had come to an end. It was time to leave Japan.

  She wheeled her standard carry-on behind her and felt fortunate to spot a waiting yellow taxicab, its telltale horizontal red stripe along the sides and a plastic light on top. The beacon wasn’t lit, but it wouldn’t be the first time Mae had charmed a driver off their cigarette break to get on her way.

  Mae threw open the door and tossed her luggage on the seat. A driver was indeed sitting idle, but the air in the car was charged, and the black leather gloves gripping the wheel flexed impatiently.

  A sharp voice gave a less-than-subtle, verbal hiss. “Dete ike.”

  Mae cleared her throat and shifted forward. She didn’t want to get out. She’d picked up a few words and phrases during her stay, and although most people she encountered appreciated her effort, her language skills were shoddy at best. She spoke to the best of her ability. “Gomen nasai. Nihongo ga wakarimasen.”

  The driver turned around, her painted eyes narrowing, chunks of blue-streaked hair peeking out from under a tight-fitting black stocking hat. “How nice for you,” she forced through gritted teeth, the scent of her strawberry gum sifting toward the back seat. “You don’t understand Japanese.” She gripped the steering wheel again and shouted, “Get out,” with a force that bounced off the windows.

  “Sorry,” Mae croaked. She had less than an hour to get to the airport and suspected she’d be stuck in heavy city traffic for the duration. She had to try. She put on her best smile. “Listen, I’m just trying to catch a flight—”

  The driver’s arm twisted in a fluid swoosh, the narrow barrel of a shiny metal pistol staring Mae in the face. The hammer cocked with deafening thunder, the woman’s voice hard as tempered steel. “I said…Get. Out.”

  Mae’s hand trembled in search of the door handle, her breath hitched somewhere between her throat and the falling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She heard the latch release amid the pounding of her pulse in her ears, and set her boot upon the concrete. She couldn’t process the situation, but knew she’d made a grievous error.

  Across from the cab, a rush of men exploded from the main entrance of a building. An English sign above Japanese characters read The Gold Dragon, and statues of snake-like creatures guarded the door. Mae watched in horror as two men attacked another, taller man, his dress shirt disheveled and his shoulder length hair a mess of unkempt tangles. The sounds of flesh smacking flesh and the cries of passersby intensified the moment shots began to ring. Two men dropped.

  With one foot on the pavement and another in the cab, Mae froze.

  The tall man was running for her, his facial features set with iron determination. A third attacker followed, shoving forward on top of him, and forcing Mae back into the cab to avoid the force of their tripping bodies.

  She skidded backward over the seat, pulling the door closed behind her the same moment the tall man’s body slammed into the cab. He threw a punch, kneed his opponent in the ribs, and tossed him head first at a mob on his heels. The cab driver mumbled under her breath as she gunned the engine, the tall man flying in through the front passenger-side door, holding his bloody lip. Rubber burned as he shouted “Hayaku,” before Mae could break free of her shock. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the group of men outside firing guns in their direction or the woman in the cab who had pointed one at her.

  She had no time to think about it.

  The cab lurched into traffic, throwing Mae sideways and bruising her shoulder against the window. She braced herself against the seat in front of her as they picked up speed, squinting her eyes shut as a torrent of angry Japanese words filled the small space like an overcrowded room. Horns honked, tires screeched, and the unmistakable boom of gunshots echoed in Mae’s ears. The car turned a bend just as the cab’s rear window shattered and rained splinters of glass over the back seat.

  More angry, desperate sounding words.

  A hand shook Mae’s hunched-over form and slapped a smooth firearm into her hand. Although only a handgun, it was heavier than it looked and was still warm from either use or someone else’s touch.

  Fresh air whipped Mae’s hair into her face as the man rolled his window down and faced backward toward their pursuers, firing round after round toward armed men on motorcycles as they weaved through traffic. It was impossible for Mae to count how many dogged their rear amidst the rush of the wind stinging her eyes, the loud crash of cars colliding, and smoke rising from indistinguishable points of origin.

  “Shoot!” the driver hissed.

  Mae caught her eyes in the rearview, her intense, brown irises and deliciously long lashes expressing a deep emotion that would’ve melted Mae to the leather under any other circumstance. But Mae’s words flew from her mouth in disbelief. “You want me to do what?”

  Mae ducked and covered her head as a bullet whizzed past her ear and dinked a spider-webbing crack into the windshield. She watched, fascinated like a child losing track of time, as it spread in an irregular pattern. Adrenaline licked her veins, too much fright outweighing flight.

  She caught those eyes again, boring into her with a mysterious air of mischief and chaos, causing Mae’s flesh to tingle and her muscles to flex. She couldn’t shake it off. But the next words the driver spoke covered Mae with such finality, she doubted she’d ever shed the memory.

  “Shoot or die.”

  The man in the passenger seat yelpe
d and dipped back into his chair, his hand over his neck, blood soaking red stains into his long-sleeved dress shirt and dripping through his fingers. The driver handed him another gun as she swerved into a leather-clad man with a long-barreled automatic preparing to shoot on the driver’s side. The rapid burst of his fire hit the door with a distinct series of clinks before the cab lurched right and threw him and his bike over the roof of a neighboring car. Their speed increased as they pulled onto the motorway, and Mae spotted only a single rider still hot on their trail.

  The male passenger moaned and shook his head, mumbling something Mae didn’t catch. They collectively shot forward as a tire hit the rear bumper and bullets shattered what was left of their windshield.

  “Stupid Foreigner! Shoot him!”

  Mae’s whole body shook as she peered over her shoulder, the hot burn of a whip lashing over her cheekbone. She didn’t think as she turned, only saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off a helmet, heard the roar of the small engine accelerate, the angle of a weapon directed right between her eyes. She never felt her finger pull the trigger. She only heard a tire pop, her eyes following the fluid arch of the gunman’s flip. Nothing but raw silence followed the sickening crush of man and metal on pavement, shrinking into the distance as the taxicab shifted gears and flew.

  “Daijoubu, Akio?” The driver slowed as she made for an exit, scanning her companion, the first real look of solemn concern in her expression. Her head whipped back and forth from him to the road, her hand shaking him gently, her voice growing in concern each time she spoke his name and asked if he was okay. “Akio? Akio?”

  The smell of blood filled the car as he bled out, soaking the upholstery and pooling out from the cracks between his seat. Mae thought she might faint, but the thought of another gunman, lurking anonymously somewhere behind them, returned her focus out the back, and she scanned the traffic like an automated machine. She had to wake up.