“You gonna walk around town like that?” I felt myself getting wet. This was so confusing.
“Why not?” She gave her hips a tiny bump. “You do.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s different.”
She stepped closer, cupped my jaw, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss me. When she leaned against me, I felt the firm press of her dick against my thigh. Now I was wet and hard. I put my hands on her waist and moved to turn her toward the bed. To my astonishment, she pushed me gently away.
“Uh-uh. No touching.”
“Oh, come on, baby. Let’s just stay home.”
“Nope.” She slid a slim leather wallet into her back pocket and buttoned it. Then she held out her hand and gave me that smile that I’ve never been able to resist. “Come on, honey. Time to go to drag bingo.”
We stood in line along with half the population of Provincetown to get through the white picket fence and onto the grass-covered front lawn of the Unitarian Universalist Church where dozens of metal folding tables had been set up for one of the highlights of Carnival week. Drag bingo. The space was crowded with tourists and townspeople, drag queens, and here and there, a drag king. It was a party atmosphere, and everyone was taking pictures of everyone else. We wended our way toward a free table, carrying our fat color markers and our stack of bingo cards.
I would have felt self-conscious in my less-than-flattering outfit, except no one was paying any attention to me. The drag queens were so flamboyant, so outrageously wonderful, that all eyes were on them. Except for the dykes who were unabashedly eyeing my girlfriend. I had a wholly unfamiliar urge to start scratching eyes out. Scratching eyes out? Who the hell am I?
“Can’t you strap that thing down?” I said in an irritated whisper after the third time I spied some sexy femme staring at Shelby’s crotch.
“It’s as down as it’s going to get,” she said with a grin. “You ought to know.”
“Well, I never get cruised the way you are when I’m packing it.”
She gave me a fiery look. “Oh yes, you do. You just don’t know how to stake out your territory. It’s a girl thing.”
“Then sit down,” I hissed, indicating one of the few free seats left, “and hide that before I have to hurt someone.”
“I was wondering,” she whispered, leaning close as I took the seat next to her, “if it always makes you want to come in your pants really bad, too.”
I groaned. I would have banged my head on the table, but they were starting to call out the first of the bingo numbers, and everyone around me was in a frenzy to mark their cards. You didn’t interfere with some of these people at bingo, not and keep your body parts.
It’s not easy to sit very long in a skirt, I discovered. I tried crossing my legs, but my feet went numb. If I didn’t cross my legs, I forgot to keep my knees together, and although I welcomed the breeze, I was afraid that I’d be advertising to all and sundry exactly the state I was in. Which, considering the fact that every few minutes, Shelby would run her fingers up the inside of my thigh underneath the table, was one of terminal arousal bordering on coming in my seat. When she casually picked up my left hand, moved it under the table and into her lap, and pressed it against the bulge in her trousers, I almost did.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I growled into her ear. “I’m going to the bathroom to stick my head under the cold-water faucet.”
She laughed as I walked away.
I passed by the long lines for the Porta-Johns outside the church and walked around to the side entrance. Having been to more than one show in the church auditorium, I knew there was another small bathroom just inside. Fortunately, not many other people thought of it, and the line was short. Two of the three stalls were occupied, and as I stepped into the third—the farthest from the door—I felt a hand against my back and another person crowded in behind me.
“Shh,” Shelby whispered before I could say anything.
I couldn’t even turn around, we were pressed so close together, her behind me and my knees nearly up against the toilet. When she gave my shoulders a gentle shove, I reflexively reached out with both hands and braced myself against the wall in front of me. It’s a good thing I did, because a second later she slipped her hand under the back of my skirt and between my legs, and my knees nearly gave out. For the first time, I appreciated the ingenious nature of a thong. With a practiced flick of her thumb, she swept the material aside and slid her fingertips between my labia.
I heard her groan as I drenched her hand, and I had to bite my lip to hold back a cry of my own. I think I mentioned how good she is with her hands, and I was already pushing my hips back and forth in an attempt to rub my clitoris against her fingers. I’d been so turned on for so long, I knew I’d come in seconds. To my surprise, she pulled away before I could get there. Then I heard it, and my heart stopped.
The unmistakable sound of a zipper slowly sliding open.
When I moved to turn around, she cupped the back of my neck in her hand to stop me with a whisper. “No.”
Off balance, still braced against the wall, I had no room to do anything but wait. I felt as if my whole body was waiting, waiting to be touched, waiting to be filled, waiting to be taken. It was wholly unfamiliar and completely natural. With the first brush of the smooth, cool length of her dick between my legs, my clit jerked and I tightened inside and all I wanted was for her to make me come. I pushed back again, this time against the fat, firm head, and felt it slip inside. I moaned. I couldn’t help it.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, honey?” she murmured in my ear, her breath hot and ragged.
I knew what she was feeling, the pressure against her clit from the base of the cock, the sweet power of being inside her woman, the need to give and take at the same time. I could only whimper and nod my head. I wanted more, but I was afraid. Afraid to be other than I have always thought myself to be; afraid to be not less, but more. She knew, and she helped me.
She moved her hand from my neck around the front of my body and underneath the edge of the tiny skirt. She held my clitoris gently between her fingers and began to slide it back and forth the way she knows always makes me come. As soon as she started, I pushed back onto her dick and she slid deeper inside. As I stretched in body and mind to take her, the pressure surged into my clit, and I knew I was going to come.
She stroked me, I rocked against her, she pushed deeper. Once, twice, and then I felt it—the slow, rolling contractions in the core of me that in another minute would burst shooting from my clit.
“I’m coming,” I cried softly. I felt her weight against my back, her body trembling as she worked herself inside me. I heard the quick, high-pitched sound she makes when she’s nearing orgasm. Just as I crashed over the edge and lost all sense of anything but her, I heard her triumphant voice in my ear.
“Bingo, baby. Bingo.”
Aflame
Gun Brooke
“May I have an extra blanket, please?”
The cognac voice from across the aisle caught Corazon Perez’s attention as she unbuckled her seat belt. By force of habit, she had closed her eyes hard during takeoff and not paid any attention to anything except her own breathing. Afraid of flying was a phrase that didn’t cover how bad it really was. She was so terrified of takeoffs and landings she had to fight medicating herself into oblivion.
Corazon looked furtively toward the passenger occupying the window seat. A striking woman who looked to be in her early forties rubbed her arms, which she had wrapped around her chest, as if to warm them. She wore a tight off-white suede skirt that reached just below her knees and a short blue suede jacket over a blue satin shirt. Golden brown tresses, several shades darker than chestnut, had escaped a loose twist and framed a slightly angular, thin face that boasted a determined chin. She wasn’t beautiful in the classical sense, but she was definitely attractive. Letting her gaze slide down the other woman’s body, Corazon felt her nipples stand at attention.
Suddenly, light green eyes under
dark eyebrows locked onto Corazon’s, startling her with their shimmering intensity. Almost fluorescent, they shone before warming up as she smiled. “If I didn’t know the windows were sealed tight, I’d say there’s a draft.”
“Must be the ventilation,” Corazon offered, a little annoyed at how tense her voice sounded. “A blanket ought to do it. Or…” She leaned back, flashing the other woman a slow smile. “Or you could ask the flight attendant if you can move over here. I don’t get a draft.”
It was true. She was comfortable in the second of the four seats in the center of the Airbus 330 even without her suit jacket. Reaching across the empty seat next to her, she extended a hand. “I’m Corazon.” Say yes.
“My name’s Blaise. Blaise Donovan.” Brightening up, the woman scooted over to the aisle seat, taking Corazon’s proffered hand. “Nice to meet you, Corazon. Sure you don’t mind?”
God, no, I don’t mind. The thought of the gorgeous woman across the aisle sitting next to her made Corazon’s heart flutter and roused a familiar tension between her legs. Stunned at the immediate response, she felt her cheeks color. “No, of course not. Why don’t I move to the next seat, and you can take mine. That way we’ll both be in the middle, away from the aisle.”
“Oh, that’d be great.” Blaise smiled. “I hate it when someone elbows you in the head when you’re trying to sleep or read.” She laughed huskily. “Or whatever.”
Or whatever? If you only knew. Like hot, strong liqueur, the sound of Blaise’s voice trickled down Corazon’s spine, tingling along her nerve endings, making her shiver. “Why don’t you change seats right now? The flight attendant’s on her way back with your extra blanket.” Did that sound as urgent as I feel? She hoped to God it didn’t.
A minute later, Blaise sat in Corazon’s old seat, looking content. “Mmm, nice and warm.” She spread the two blankets over herself, sighing in obvious pleasure. “Ah. Wonderful.”
The blanket lay halfway across Corazon’s legs, partially covering her above-the-knee, black tailored skirt and black silk, thigh-high stockings. She had kicked off her three-inch-heel pumps as soon as she sat down.
Blaise shifted and her scent, dark and flowery, wafted toward Corazon. Then she tugged several hairpins from her golden hair, letting it fall in deliciously tousled locks around her face to where it grazed her collarbones.
Eyes roaming, Corazon noticed several buttons of Blaise’s shirt were open, revealing pale, creamy skin, and she found herself wondering how her own olive-colored skin would look against such abundant white. Willing herself to lean back into her seat, she inhaled deeply, trying to stay calm. Out of sight, out of mind? You’ve got to be kidding. She’s the most attractive woman I’ve seen in years. The perfume. What is it? Like dark, dark chocolate… In her line of work as an in-demand, high-profile portrait photographer, she had seen many women, through the lens and out of it, but no one had taken her breath away instantly like Blaise.
She reached for her own blanket, unfolded it, and tucked it around herself. Only then did she realize she had also tucked Blaise’s blankets more closely around them both.
“Mmm, cozy for both of us.” Blaise sighed. “Would you mind turning out the lights? That way, the flight attendants won’t bother us with drinks and food. Unless you want some, of course?” She reclined her seat back, ending up with her head closer to Corazon’s.
“No, I’m ready for a break. It’s been a crazy weekend.”
“Really? A crazy weekend in Paris?” Blaise smiled broadly. “Anything you can share?”
Corazon had to laugh. “No, I meant work-wise. This was strictly a business trip.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a photographer. And you?”
“I own a gallery in Miami. Fascination—mainly local artists.”
“I can’t believe it!” Corazon leaned on her elbow, edging closer to Blaise. “My studio’s just a few blocks from you. Perez Portrait Studio.”
As they laughed at the twist of fate, Blaise placed a hand on Corazon’s naked arm beneath the blankets. “Destiny at work here, you think?”
Destiny? Corazon found it hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. The touch of Blaise’s hand, her soft scent, all contributed to Corazon’s rapidly climbing arousal. She was disappointed when the other woman removed her hand, settling with her head only an inch from Corazon’s shoulder.
Corazon reached for the button on her armrest and switched off the lights. Behind and in front of them, other passengers had done the same, creating a soothingly dark circle of quiet in the middle of the plane. The flight attendants carried out their duties, handing out drinks and something to nibble on, but Corazon declined and leaned back into her seat. Eventually the other passengers settled, most of them, like her and Blaise, curled up with pillows and blankets.
Closing her eyes, Corazon again inhaled the alluring scent of her travel companion, allowing it to fill her senses and flow through her veins. Eventually, she heard Blaise’s breathing grow even, and the golden brown head slid closer, finally resting fully against her. Afraid to move, she sat perfectly still, her shoulder burning where Blaise’s head rested.
With every minute adding to her excitement, Corazon looked down at the tousled locks, desperately fighting the urge to press her lips against them. Blaise’s nearness pulled her in, made her stir restlessly beneath the blanket. She raised a hand to stroke the silky, golden hair but caught herself just in time, pulling back abruptly. God!
“You okay?” Blaise peeked up through the strands of hair. “You moaned?”
I did? Oh no, please don’t say that. “Ah…I’m fine. Thank you.” And you sound like an idiot, Perez.
“Good Lord, I’m sorry. I seem to have ended up on your shoulder. Your poor arm.” Blaise sat up but, to Corazon’s surprise, edged closer. “Here, let me help.” Stroking Corazon’s arm in long, slow movements, she gave a bright smile. “There. Better?”
“Better.” Corazon almost choked when Blaise’s fingertips brushed against the side of her breast. Wearing only a whisper-thin lace bra beneath her blouse, she felt the touch as unmistakably as if she’d been naked. Her breath caught in her throat, and she struggled not to betray how her legs pressed together at the touch. Furtively leaning harder against her seat, Corazon tried to move away from the fingers. More of that, baby, and we’ll both be in trouble.
Blaise seemed oblivious to Corazon’s arousal even when the back of one hand slid across the entire side of Corazon’s breast. “You’re so tense.” Looking genuinely concerned, Blaise leaned forward, gazing into Corazon’s eyes. “You should’ve woken me up.”
“I didn’t mind. Honest.” If you touch me like that again… Corazon’s body went rigid when the slender hands moved inside the short sleeve of the shirt. When they slid up and down as far as they could reach, Corazon broke into a sweat. “Blaise…” How the hell do I say this?
“Yes?” The voice was innocent, caring, but now there was a devilish sparkle in the green eyes. One hand moved down to Corazon’s stocking-clad right knee, seemingly for support, while the other kept stroking and massaging her arm.
“You don’t have to. Really, I’m fine.”
Blaise’s lips appeared impossibly luscious as she ran the tip of her tongue across them. “I know. You’re very fine.”
There was no more oxygen on the plane. Corazon opened her mouth to inhale deeply, but nothing happened. Blaise’s smile filled her vision, pink lips approaching hers as the hand on her knee began a dangerous exploration. In slow circles, it moved up her leg and slipped under her skirt before Corazon had a chance to object. When the fingers stopped just on the border between the stocking and the warm skin of her thigh, Corazon found new air to breathe. She gasped.
“Am I mistaken?” Blaise whispered.
Hell, no. Corazon wanted to pull her closer, crush their breasts together. Looking around, she couldn’t tell if anyone was paying any attention to them in their darkened little island. Still in plain view, for
heaven’s sake!
Blaise frowned, a look of uncertainty on her face. Drawing a trembling breath, Corazon realized she hadn’t answered out loud. “No, no. You’re not mistaken. About anything.” Her words were barely audible, even to herself, but Blaise’s eyes flared. Curling up in her seat, she tucked the blanket more firmly around them. Corazon was intensely aware of Blaise never taking her left hand away from between her thighs.
“I saw you were uncomfortable at takeoff,” Blaise said and pushed the armrest between them up and out of her way. “Dislike flying?”
“Hate it. Scares me to death every time.”
Sliding her other hand farther up, Blaise stroked the damp skin on the inside of Corazon’s thighs. She coaxed Corazon to part her legs as much as was possible in her skirt. Her smile faded, replaced with a look of unmasked desire.
“That’s right. Spread your legs for me…Corazon.”
The sound of her name on Blaise’s lips sent another rush of wetness between Corazon’s legs.
“I’ll show you a very, very good way to relieve the stress of flying.”
Knowing how clear her arousal would become if Blaise moved any higher, Corazon turned her head, intending to hide her face against the other woman’s hair. Quickly Blaise dipped her head, captured Corazon’s lips, and pressed hard against her. She slipped her tongue inside, ravaging Corazon’s mouth. Unable to do anything but surrender, Corazon whimpered, almost, but not quite inaudibly.
“Good,” Blaise whispered against her mouth, the sweetness of her breath warm against Corazon’s skin. “You have to be quiet. Very quiet. All right?” Her hand slipped higher and she ran her blunt nails along the silky skin of Corazon’s thigh.
“Yes.”
“And you also have to sit very still.” Blaise’s voice was a mere breath. “Or our neighbors will notice us. Promise?”
“Promise.” I promise, I promise…Touch me! Please!
“And I want you to whisper very, very quietly to me how you feel…when I do this.”
Stolen Moments Page 5
