Tescot eased the car into a spot surrounded by pines. She jumped when Erika came to life on the seat next to her. “I thought you were down for the count.”
Erika giggled. “Ha, fooled you.”
“Yes, you did. Now, go to sleep like you promised. If having the light on doesn’t bother you, I’m going to read all about the right to a speedy trial.”
Erika fidgeted and mumbled until Tescot closed the book and asked her what was the matter.
“Can’t get my legs stretched out enough to get comfortable. And this seat is doing the proverbial spin when I close my eyes, only faster than it’s ever done before.” Then she had a laughing fit.
“What’s so funny?”
“I almost asked if I could rest my head in your lap. Stopped myself just in time.”
Closely following what she recognized as the evening’s recipe for disaster, Tescot adjusted her position and opened her arms. Erika rolled up in a ball and laughed even harder.
“Now what?”
“Always did consider it a curse that I recall what happens while I’m drunk.” This was all cracking her up. “But this time it’s no curse. I get to remember every second of passing out in your arms.” Erika leaned toward Tescot and moaned. “Shit! I’ll remember saying that to you, too.”
The right to a speedy trial would have to wait. Tescot had no hope of studying while Erika’s head lay in her lap. She put out the cabin light and was actually able to doze for a couple of hours. That ended when Erika stirred and turned over, her face now where the back of her head had been trouble enough. Light, innocent sleeping breaths blew in and out of Tescot’s zipper for those few hours left until dawn.
The sun came up behind the trees, but its reflected brilliance had a distinct beauty—softer colors lifting more slowly from the water, rationing their splendor. Tescot was marveling at the sight, using it to push down her arousal, when Erika opened her eyes.
First Erika smiled at the realization of just how close her lips were to Tescot’s groin. Then she felt Tescot bend to look down at her.
Erika indulged in a confined stretch and an overly resonant sigh, which carried Tescot’s scent on its return. She asked seriously, “One more time, are you really straight?”
“I lied to you about that,” was the whispered reply.
At first, Tescot thought Erika was kicking her out of the car. Erika popped up and clapped her hands briskly as she pressed her back against the dashboard, making room on the seat. “Move it. Get over.” More hand clapping. “Come on, Tescot, into the passenger seat.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Move over. I’m driving.”
“Driving? Why? Do you even know how?”
“Very funny, now get out of the way. I’ll have us at the house in record time. No use risking a speeding ticket on your record—professional considerations, you know.” Erika was worming herself between Tescot and the wheel.
Loudly enough to stop proceedings, Tescot yelled, “Hold it!”
Erika halted.
“Now,” Tescot’s tone was forbearing, “tell me what’s going on.”
Equally patiently, Erika stated, “You’re not straight. We’ve lost over a week already. I intend to get us to my bedroom as quickly as possible.”
“This does not automatically mean I’m going to bed with you.”
Erika said, “I’ll concede that, but now that I know there’s actually something to work with, don’t underestimate me.” She took one of Tescot’s lapels in each fist, making sure the backs of her knuckles pressed into warm cleavage. “You have no idea how I’ve suffered during some of our study sessions.” A smile tugged one corner of her mouth upward. “Thought I’d die during your drills on immigration procedures.”
Game. Set. Match. Tescot smiled broadly. “For me, bail setting was pure torture.”
Erika’s bedroom had an insular, private feel. Tescot was so eager by the time they closed the door behind them, she pinned Erika to the nearest wall for their first kiss. When she went for the hooks on the back of Erika’s dress, Erika ducked and slipped away from the wall, moving toward the bath.
“This is not going to happen with me in such a condition.” Erika waved a hand at her rumpled dress. She pointed toward a door on the opposite side of the room. “There’s a second bathroom. Meet you on the bed in five minutes.”
Those minutes did nothing to dampen Tescot’s ardor. She pulled Erika onto the bed and rolled to the top, supporting herself on hands and knees, hovering, exposed, above Erika’s nakedness.
Erika whooped as they bounced onto the mattress. “That uniform hasn’t been lying about your physique, counselor.”
“That dress didn’t bother to lie about yours.” Tescot’s eyes were alight, happy. A very small, phantom shadow passed across it. “Is this, every single thing about it, okay with you?”
“Every particle of it.”
Tescot teased, “Forgive me for lying to you?”
“All forgiven if you’ll shut up and let us make love.”
Tescot made a single electrifying point of contact, her tongue pushing firmly into then out of Erika’s mouth, almost to where their lips would meet, but not quite, and was more than pleased when Erika refused to give in and shatter the delicate, intense tease. After long moments, Tescot added a second penetration, a finger poking into then out of Erika in time with her tongue, and not much deeper. She did that for so long, and they were both so close to peaking, that coming would take precious few strokes in the right places. Tescot eased both tongue and finger to excruciating slowness, and then stopped altogether. She smoothly rose to kneel above Erika and gently rubbed each of their clitorises with lazy circles, dipped into each of them once, and resumed. A few wet strokes, and they came at the same instant—rich, strong orgasms that had nothing to do with satisfaction and everything to do with wanting more of each other.
Some of that “more” was competitive, full of struggle for who was in charge. Some of it was playfully silly and some nearly savagely primal. All of it was extreme and essential.
Twice, they scoured the kitchen for food to bring back to the room. Once, in the middle of the moon-bright night, they went out for a short walk. But real emergence from Erika’s bedchamber was over thirty-six hours after they’d entered it that morning.
Nearly three weeks after, Erika was giving Tescot lots of grief over having to attend yet another charity dinner.
“Look, darling, you’ve been up since six this morning. Wouldn’t it be better to allow me to skip this and we’ll study in my bedroom.”
Tescot didn’t bother to snicker. “You know studying will never happen. And you should go to this. How guilty do you think I’d feel for enticing you away from a dinner benefiting AIDS victims?”
She expected Erika to enter full pout mode, but instead, Erika took her hand and said, “A compromise, then. You spend the evening in my bedroom studying until you feel sleepy, then get into bed. Nolan can drive me. I’ll attend the ball like a good girl and wake you when I get home.”
Actually, Tescot had been giving some thought to the fact that she drove Erika practically everywhere, whether it was someone else’s shift or not. And since Bridges was due back from vacation tomorrow, the overlap was about to get even greater. She reached across the seat for Erika’s hand. “You’ll wake me up, no matter what time you get in?”
Erika had no problem making the promise.
On her way up to the bedroom, not long after Nolan had driven away with Erika, tempting in a peach strapless gown and enthroned in the backseat, Tescot met up with Nolan at the kitchen door. “Hey, what’s up? Don’t tell me Erika already deserted the party.”
Nolan checked her watch. “No, I hope she doesn’t bail this early. I snuck away to see if you’d relieve me. Tescot, after all the extra hours you’ve put in for me, no charge, I hate to ask this. But I’m so nauseous I can barely stand.”
Noticing a definite gray cast to Nolan’s face, Tescot sa
id, “Sure, no problem. You don’t look good at all.”
“Getting worse by the second, too. I’ll make this up to you, promise.”
“Just get home and take care of yourself. I’ve got Erika.”
Nolan handed over the keys, Tescot grabbed her book and was off. She pulled behind the waiting string of luxury cars and settled in to explore a complex, very famous case involving a person’s right to bring civil suit. Two engaged hours later, there was a delicate tap on her window, one of the other drivers.
His smile was conspiratorial. “You Nolan?”
“Tescot, Nolan’s replacement.”
“But this is the Fortis car, right?”
“Right.”
“Your lucky night, honey.” He nodded up toward the pillared porch. “Just got word to tell you to go on home. Your ride’s leaving with mine.” He winked before hustling back to his car.
Tescot watched Erika and the polo player barely make it to the hotshot’s car without falling. They stopped three times along the walk to stabilize and kiss. Hotshot’s driver let them maneuver themselves onto the backseat, then closed the door and trotted around. The car turned right at the drive’s end. Taking Erika home would have required a left.
Next morning was the monthly brunch at Myra Pinnook’s. Erika’s face lit with a question when she saw it was Bridges holding open her door.
“Bridges, you’re back. Where’s Tescot this morning?”
“No telling. I got in around two and found her bouncing off walls down in the kitchen. People who don’t drink shouldn’t drink, know what I mean?”
“Tescot? Drunk?”
Bridges rubbed a hand across the top of her newly buzzed two-inch-long hair. “Big time. Totally out of it.” She shook her head. “Kept saying over and over what a perfectly ruthless attorney she’s going to be. Would not shut up about it. You know how people, when they’re high, fix on one thing? If I had to tell her once, I had to tell her fifteen times that, yes, I could see she had an inviolate core. Whatever that means.”
Erika ducked into the backseat, saying, “It means that if, in three or four years, you find yourself needing an excellent attorney, look her up.”
“Maybe so. Anyway, she had all her stuff with her and just came by to let Murray know she quit. Left her uniform, keys to the kitchen door, everything. Not even an address to send her check to. Said keep it.”
As brunch broke up and the ladies strolled unsteadily from Myra Pinnook’s mansion, Bridges stationed herself at the open rear door of the Fortis car. Erika was loaded, but managed to hold herself fairly upright all the way down the curved walk. She tried to let herself into the front, mumbling, “Let’s go home, Tescot.”
“It’s Bridges, ma’am. Tescot quit.”
Erika’s eyes cleared for a second. “That’s right.” She gave up on the front door and aimed for the backseat, but stopped before piling in and smiled her radiant best. “To Star Point, Bridges. Let’s get you properly welcomed home.”
Bridges gallantly tipped her cap. “Right away, ma’am.” She leapt behind the wheel and gave the gas pedal a playful punch as they took off.
Imagined Pleasures
Radclyffe
S. bathed and carefully prepared her body with lotions and a delicate hint of perfume, all the while wondering what stranger her lover Clarisse would seduce that evening. When Clarisse had left their townhouse for her soiree, she had not told S. what kind of excitement she sought, knowing that S. would spend the hours until her return imagining Clarisse involved in all kinds of licentious behavior with all manner of women—rough butches Clarisse found in seedy waterfront bars or cultured debutantes who bought her champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries before taking her to their lavish suites and making love to her on silk coverlets. Not knowing who was pleasuring Clarisse was part of the thrill of waiting for her return.
Despite S.’s preoccupation with tedious but necessary business matters, her anticipation built all evening. She couldn’t prevent herself from conjuring images of her Clarisse in the throes of carnal pleasure—bent over a stained table in a darkened room, her skirts bunched high around her waist while a shadowy figure took her from behind, the stranger buried so deep that she climaxed involuntarily as Clarisse smiled softly. Or perhaps Clarisse reclined against thick pillows, sipping fine wine and nibbling crackers heaped with caviar while a beautifully coiffed woman with flawless make-up lay between her thighs and begged to taste her. Clarisse—head thrown back, blond curls framing her oval face, blue eyes wide with unbearable delight. As the hours passed and the many visions of Clarisse allowing others the privilege of pleasuring her played endlessly through her mind, S. felt the ache of desire settle into her clitoris, which stiffened and pulsed continuously.
The clock on the mantel chimed two a.m. Clarisse would be on her way home. S. lit the candles in the entryway, at the foot of the wide marble staircase, and on the small hand-carved table next to the high four-poster bed. She removed her garments, and as each piece came away, her excitement built. By the time she donned the black silk robe, which she left open to reveal her nakedness, her thighs were damp with the evidence of her passion. She turned down the crisp, finely woven cotton sheets that the maid had changed just that afternoon and stretched out to await Clarisse, her body trembling in anticipation of her own pleasures soon to begin.
“You smell wonderful, my love,” Clarisse murmured as she leaned down to kiss the base of S.’s throat. “Oranges?”
“Yes.” S. tilted her head back, inviting another caress as she noted the lingering flush on Clarisse’s skin that often heralded a particularly forceful climax. She smiled faintly as Clarisse, well able to read her mind after a decade together, responded with a train of slow, succulent kisses along the pulse in her neck, ending at he earlobe, which she teased tantalizingly with her tongue. S. lay perfectly still, containing her excitement, making Clarisse wait for her reward as she had waited. She had no doubt that Clarisse could sense her need, and if she but looked down would undoubtedly see the glistening signs of her arousal shining upon the swollen flesh between her thighs. “Do you have a story to tell me?”
“Oh yes,” Clarisse whispered. She skimmed her hand beneath the black silk and cupped S.’s breast, lifting it in her palm like an offering before delicately sucking at the pale pink nipple. “One I think you’ll enjoy.”
“Did you, my darling?” S. whispered, squeezing her other breast with trembling fingers.
“Only because I knew it would please you.” Clarisse bit down on S.’s nipple until S. couldn’t help but shiver.
“Lie beside me and tell me,” S. commanded, the seducer now.
In a flash, Clarisse shed her dress and everything beneath it and curled up next to S., returning to her breasts, which she resumed fondling.
S. curved an arm around Clarisse so that her fingers brushed her breast and bent one knee to open herself to Clarisse’s view. She ran her fingers up and down the inside of her thighs, matching the tempo of Clarisse’s strokes upon her breasts, knowing that Clarisse could see what she was doing. She longed to glide her fingertips over her clitoris, which stood unsheathed and firm at the apex of her sex, demanding attention. But she denied herself, and Clarisse, that bliss for now. “Where did you go?”
“To a garden party.”
“How proper of you.” S. laughed. “Were there many fine ladies in attendance?”
“Quite a number.” Clarisse circled her hand over S.’s stomach, moving dangerously close to her smooth, prominent mound. “And some who weren’t.”
“Did anyone catch your attention?” S. brushed her fingers over the edges of her sex, allowing the pads of her fingers to skim along either side of her clitoris. Her breath caught as her sex contracted at the mere whisper of a caress. “Or have you come home unsatisfied, still desperately in need of relief?”
“There was one,” Clarisse confessed in hushed tones. “Shall I tell you?”
S. flicked at her clitoris with a polish
ed fingernail, then opened herself more fully to Clarisse’s view with two fingers. “By all means.”
“She was dressed unlike the others, in trousers instead of a dress. Her dark hair was short and she wore a pale blue shirt with gold
cufflinks and a thin black belt at her waist.”
“Was she young and innocent, the way you prefer?”
“Young, but not so innocent, as it turned out.”
“Mmm, did she surprise you?” S. languorously massaged her swollen sex, her eyes half closed, imagining Clarisse singling out her prospective partner from the array of attractive females as she might a decadent chocolate from a tray of fine confections. Clarisse squirmed against her side and pressed her fingers dangerously close to the base of S.’s clitoris. S. caught her wrist firmly, warning, “Don’t hurry, my sweet, or I won’t let you finish the story. Take your hand away now, darling.”
Clarisse gave a mew of protest but moved her fingers as bidden. “I’ve thought of nothing but taking you in my mouth for hours.”
“Except when you were thinking of her.” S.’s voice held no note of criticism or rebuke, but her clitoris jerked at the thought of Clarisse’s tongue licking her. The pressure between her thighs was becoming intolerable, and she pressed her puffed lips tightly together to still her rising excitement. “Why her tonight, and no one else?”
“I was aware of her watching me all evening, although I did not let her know. Then I noticed something as she leaned against the arbor with a glass of wine in her hand, insolently staring at me.” Clarisse’s words had grown soft and distant, as if she were lost in the memory, and she pressed close against S.’s hip, rubbing her sex against S’s thigh.
“What did you see that made you gift her with your treasures?” S. pressed her thumb to the base of her clitoris and massaged it, her hips rising and falling gently with each caress.
Extreme Passions Page 26
