“Perfect.” Ellen takes a slug of her drink and slams it down. “I’m going to turn you into a smokin’ hot sex kitten.”
11
Is this me? Ellen assured me it was, but I know she’s lying. She’s never seen me in a dress before and frankly, neither have I. The feeling of my bare legs under the delicate fabric is nice though, and I turn around in front of the mirror once more, inspecting myself from the back in the lavish fitting room. I feel sexy as I take myself in; my curves and legs on display like I’m offering myself up. Isn’t that what I’m doing? Grooming myself, preparing for the moment I’ll present myself to her? Wondering how a woman can make me feel feminine while no man ever could, I hike up the hem just a little, imagining her hands on my thighs.
“You okay in there?” Ellen yells. Too distracted by my wild fantasies, I fail to answer, and she lets herself in. “Oh my God, Valerie! You look exquisite!” Her eyes roam over me; from the low cleavage of the black silk dress to my bare legs and my ankles in the black high heeled shoes she chose for me. “I think I might be questioning my own sexuality now,” she jokes, pinching my behind. “Especially if you’re going to wear that other stuff underneath.”
I slap her hand away and laugh as I glance down at the bag with lingerie I’ve already purchased. “Cut it out, Ellen. I know for a fact you’re super straight. You haven’t stopped talking about that yoga teacher since we got here.”
Ellen sighs and pulls a dramatic face. “Yes, Sadiq has been a blessing. He’s so strong and passionate and…” She snaps out of her indecent thoughts and turns her attention back to me. “But then so are you, honey. You’re a blessing to anyone who gets permission to touch that cute ass of yours. Syd is going to be one lucky woman.”
I shiver at the sound of Syd’s name and suddenly feel insecure. Next week, I’m flying out to Canada explicitly with the plan of having sex with a stranger, yet I have no idea what I’m doing because she’ll be my first woman. We’ve spoken to each other almost every day, and even more so in the past week, messaging back and forth whenever we’ve had the chance. There’s no doubt that I’m on her mind too; she’s always quick to reply and never fails to let me know how much she wants me. Still, I can’t shake off the thought that I might not be who she thinks I am.
Normally, I don’t care what people think of me. Being in a position where department budgets depend on me hasn’t necessarily made me popular, but it’s made me grow a thick skin, and I have no desire to be ‘popular’ with my employees. I’m just doing my job, whether they like it or not. Honestly, I’ve never cared if people like me in my personal life either. Although there’s a small group of women I meet up with regularly, Ellen is the only person I actually love to spend time with. She’s just easy going, always her same funny self, and if anything good has come from my failed marriage to Brian, it’s her.
“Here, try this one on too.” She holds up a red, bias-cut satin dress and mischievously bats her eyelashes.
“Don’t push it.” I shake my head and laugh. “I still want to feel like myself. That one’s way too revealing.” Taking a deep breath, I nod at my reflection. “I’ll take this one. And the shoes.”
“Ever been to Quebec?” I ask Ellen when we’re guided to a table in the department store’s restaurant. I’ve asked for a table outside on the roof, as I really need some fresh air after finally finding the dress I’ll be wearing when I first meet Syd. A tremor rocks my body when I imagine the moment, and it’s suddenly starting to feel very real.
“Of course not.” Ellen snorts and slumps down in her chair. “Why in the flying fuck would I want to go there?”
“Why not? I’ve heard it’s nice.” I sit down opposite her and stretch my tired legs out before me. My suits work well for the office, but up here it’s a little warm, so I take off my blazer and hang it over the back of my chair.
“I’ve heard the suburbs are nice too, doesn’t mean I want to go there.” Ellen scans the menus the waiter hands her and smirks. “I doubt they have 1966 Dom Pérignon on the wine lists in Quebec.”
“You’re such a snob. It’s Canada, not Kazakhstan.” I chuckle and look up at the waiter. “I’ll have a black coffee and a bottle of Perrier, please.”
“No, she won’t.” Ellen waves a hand, stopping him from typing it into his handheld device. “We’ll have a bottle of Dom to share. And a dozen oysters, Tabasco on the side. This lady is going to Canada,” she adds in a stage whisper. “So she’ll be indulging while she still can.”
“You’re the worst,” I say as the waiter shoots her a puzzled look, nods and walks off. “I need my caffeine fix. Normally I’d be on my third by now.”
Ellen shakes her head. “Don’t argue with me, we need to celebrate your new outfit and the fact that you’re going to be having sex soon. Real sex, not the phone kind. Do you even remember what it’s like to feel a hot, sweaty body against your own? And Syd’s will be a woman’s body no less…”
“Hush, Ellen! Keep your voice down for God’s sake.” I look around, nervously scanning the place for familiar faces. Thankfully, there’s no one here I know, just the usual downtown LA crowd; businesspeople, young moms with hideously expensive strollers and women like myself and Ellen, resting after spending too much money. Through the murmur of voices, I pick up on things like: ‘My husband found our nanny on an escort site so we had to let her go’, and: ‘Can I really still get away with white jeans at thirty?’ It’s all terribly shallow but I guess Ellen’s statement about Canada is just as bad, so I don’t share their ramblings. A woman sends her food back, claiming it doesn’t look ‘pretty’ enough, and two men next to us are nibbling on the forty-two-dollar banana bread, served on hand-painted slate. As soon as it hits me that bananas have become the latest luxury food item, I decide Quebec will be a refreshing break.
12
My legs feel like jelly as the sliding doors open up into the arrivals area before me. Although I flew business, giving me the opportunity to freshen up on the flight, I’m clammy again already and for a moment, I consider running off and hiding somewhere. What if she doesn’t like me in real life? What if I’m not the woman she thought I was? What if she isn’t the woman I thought she was? What if we have nothing to talk about? The answers become clear soon enough, as all the what ifs evaporate when I catch a glimpse of her standing behind the barrier, waiting for me.
She’s taller than I expected her to be, but other than that, she looks exactly the same. Tight, low jeans hug her hips and she’s wearing a blue checked shirt under a thin, olive-green jacket. It’s strange seeing her in clothes, rather than in just a shirt and her underwear, and the casual air she gives off sets me on fire. This is her, the real her, and she’s even sexier in real life than I imagined. Her face lights up when she catches sight of me, and I rush over to meet her.
“Hey,” she says, her tone a lot more confident than I feel right now. Her remarkable icy blue eyes pierce through me, making me shiver. There’s no doubt that we have chemistry; I’m drawn to her like a magnet and my heart is beating out of my chest. Just her nearness makes me aroused and wet, and I can see from the way she’s taking me in that she wants to devour me too.
“Look at you…” She gives me a flirty smile, her gaze raking over me. “Are you trying to kill me in that dress?” Then her eyes drop to my mouth and she inches closer. I feel her breath on my lips and the heat from her body as we linger on the spot, breathing in each other’s air for what feels like an eternity. The pull between us is immense and I want nothing more than her mouth on mine.
“Not here,” she whispers. “I want you alone when I kiss you for the first time.” I nod, and my breath hitches when she moves closer. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Val.”
If she feels anything like I do, I have a pretty good idea, but I’m so overwhelmed that I have trouble forming a sentence. “Take me somewhere,” I finally reply, then follow her out of the airport.
The parking lot is dark and quiet, and her Jeep
is parked in a far corner. I cross my arms and shiver as she puts my suitcase in the trunk and slams it closed. Despite it being summer it’s a little chilly for the black slip dress and high heels I bought with Ellen, but my lined Burberry trench coat keeps at least part of me warm.
“Are you cold?” she asks, taking a step toward me, wedging me between the car and her body.
“A little.” I’m aware of how my chest is heaving, my lips parting in hunger each time she looks at me.
“We’ll have to do something about that, then.” A smile plays around her lips as she cups my face in her hands and tilts her head, leaning into me. For a moment, she hesitates as if giving me time to change my mind, but I want her so badly that I run my fingers through her hair and pull her in. Our mouths clash together in a passionate dance, lust building inside of me, almost choking me with unfettered desire. Her lips are soft, her tongue like silk as she deepens the kiss with an urgency I’ve never known. I feel like she’s swallowing me whole, making me disappear into her embrace. Our kiss is all consuming and our moans echo off the parking lot walls while our hands roam freely, tugging at each other’s hair.
Kissing a woman, kissing her, is mind-blowing, so different to what I imagined. My body reacts with a feverish need as she presses herself tighter against me. She’s soft and she smells incredible but it’s not her perfume that enthralls me. It’s her very own scent, the scent of her skin that rings through the subtle sweetness of her shampoo. It’s astonishing how much you miss when you’re not face to face. Although I feel like I know her, and am technically familiar with her body, I realize that there is so much more that makes her who she is. The way her hands feel as they slide down to my waist; pinching me as if she too has only now become aware of how amazing our chemistry is. Her taste, her tongue, her lips, her hands, her breath, everything... It’s electric; the buzz of the contact making us both insatiable as we moan then break apart, knowing we won’t be able to stop if we continue any longer.
“Fuck,” I whisper, subconsciously running my fingertips along my lips. It’s not just the feel of her and her smell; it’s the air she has about her, the glow that radiates off her. I can see now that she is someone people like to be around, someone who draws attention with her mysterious and intriguing aura. She oozes sexuality. “That was…” I stop myself as I have no words for how that kiss felt, and all I can think of is that I want more.
“Not freaked out?” She asks with a sultry look in her eyes, already knowing the answer.
“No, quite the opposite.”
“You look and smell amazing by the way,” she whispers in my ear, leaning in against me again. We’re clearly on the same wavelength.
“You too,” I say, inhaling against her skin. It’s like we’re engaged in a dance of the senses, drinking each other in—our bodies coming to life at the stimulus of each other’s touch. “Do you live far from here?”
“No, I live in the city. It’s a short drive.” She steps away, walks around the Jeep and opens the door for me. “I think you’ll like it.”
Already, I miss her body against mine and as I get into the car, my legs begin to quiver, knowing we’ll be alone soon.
13
Syd’s apartment, on the top floor of a charming old redbrick building, is small but has a lot of character with original beams, a fireplace, a low ceiling that gives a cozy feel to the place and a cast-iron balcony off the living room that’s covered in ivy. It’s located in one of the cutest pedestrian streets I’ve ever seen, at the foot of the cliff below Château Frontenac. I walk around and take it all in, smiling at the personal touches.
When you know very little about someone’s day to-day life, you form an idea of them in your head, imagining their lives and surroundings. Nothing could have been further from how I pictured Syd’s style, but at the same time it makes sense. It feels incredibly personal to be in her space, seeing her pictures on the walls and her things strewn around. It’s not pristine like my penthouse, which is sterile and kept tidy by my housekeeper at all times, but it’s got character and a very cool vibe to it.
“I love your apartment,” I say, standing in front of the French doors that lead to the balcony which affords a view of the locals and tourists in the street below. She comes up behind me and slides my coat off my shoulders, so slowly that a hiss escapes my mouth. Everything is a new experience with her, and even the simple action of taking off my outerwear feels highly sensual.
“I waited seven years for something to come on the market here,” she says, pouring me a glass of red wine without asking me what I want. “But I don’t want to talk property right now. Do you?”
She doesn’t need to remind me why I’m here, because touching her naked body is all I can think of. She hands me the glass of wine and stands behind me again, breathing against my shoulder while she runs a hand through my hair. I know she can see the hairs at the back of my neck rise, and I shiver when she traces a finger down it.
“Are you nervous, Val?” her voice in my ear is low and sultry, her lips brushing my earlobe. She’s clearly a master of building anticipation, as I’d expected her to ravish me by now, but instead, she refrains from touching me much at all. It’s like she’s studying her prey before going in for the kill and it thrills me.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. The way my heart is beating and my pulse is racing, there’s no point of denying it; I know she can feel my anxiety coming off me in waves. I’ve never been this nervous in my life, but I’ve also never wanted anything so badly. Knowing she likes to be in charge, I stay where I am, facing the street.
Her hand curls around my waist and I hear her taking a sip of her wine. The touch feels electric and my abdomen tenses as she gropes me and pulls me firmly against her. I take in a quick breath, then hold it. She makes no point of putting me at ease, and I wonder if she likes that I’m scared. The public parking lot felt safe to me, but now that I’m in her lair, I tremble at the unknown. Still, there’s no way I’d leave. Not now, because I’m so aroused that my panties are dripping wet.
I take a sip of my wine too, in an attempt to calm myself. I’m so not in control right now, yet our game makes me feel alive in a way I never imagined.
“Don’t be nervous, there’s no need,” she finally mutters, deciding I’ve been tortured enough. Her mouth moves back to my ear again and she drags her tongue over it, then lingers there. Her ragged breath shoots through my body like a lightning bolt, making my pussy twitch. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream and after that, I’m going to teach you how to pleasure me.” I can feel her lips pull into a smile as she delivers her blunt statement. “Would you like that?”
By now, I’ve melted into a pool of liquid desire, and I nod, at least I think I do.
Syd takes the glass from me and puts it on the coffee table, along with her own, then brushes my hair to one side, baring my shoulder. She slides the spaghetti strap of my dress down, then kisses my skin, working her way inward, toward my neck.
I moan when I feel her wet lips on me and cry out when she bites my neck. It doesn’t hurt, but it shocks me. No one has bitten me before, and I tense up as her hands wrap around me tight, then move up to my breasts. She cups them through the fabric of my dress and squeezes them, reminding me I’m hers tonight. It feels so good that I throw my head back against her shoulder, my eyes fluttering when her thumbs brush over my already erect nipples. Even through the dress and my bra, I know she can feel how hard they are, how turned on I am. I can hardly believe a woman is kissing my neck and fondling me, her sweet scent and the softness of her cheek against mine reminding me that this will be a night to remember forever.
Her fingers spread apart as she moves her hands down my body, her movements symmetrical, pushing down on my skin as they settle on my thighs and lift up the hem of my dress, just like I imagined her doing in the fitting room when I bought it. The room is dimly lit and outside, nightlife is already buzzing in the early evening. Although I don’t expect anyone on the street to
look up and see me, there are similar apartments opposite us, and the idea of doing this here by the window feels lewd and dangerous.
“I like what you’re wearing for me,” she says in a seductive tone, tracing the edge of my stockings. She watches me in our reflection as she plays with the elastic of my black suspenders, then releases the fasteners one by one. I flinch as I feel them snap up against my hips, the simple action sending a shot of adrenaline through me.
Part of me wants to turn around and kiss her, and part of me is loving the voyeuristic nature of our actions. It’s exciting, frightening, thrilling and when I feel her hands on my bare hips, I arch my back and let out another moan, louder this time. How does she do this to me? Driving me crazy with something as simple as her touch? She explores my body, moving farther up toward my belly, only slipping the tip of a finger under the waistband of my suspender belt for a moment before continuing, sliding her hands under my bra.
“You like that?” she asks, feeling my reaction that is nothing short of carnal. I groan as I dig my nails into her thighs behind me and feel her muscles tense through her jeans. My breath hitches at her warm hands on my breasts, and I cry out when she pinches my nipples, softly at first, then harder.
“Oh God...” I hold my breath again as she moves one of her hands back down, holding me against her with the other, still caressing my sensitive breasts. Her fingers slip between my thighs and she cups my pussy, feeling my liquid desire through the delicate fabric of my panties. My knees buckle and I can hardly stand up straight, her touch sending a flash of heat through me. Then she pulls her hands away, leaving me wanting more. I’m about to turn around when she grabs my shoulders and holds me in place.
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