With a sudden spasm, Marissa arched hard against Linda. The layers of sensation that radiated out from Linda's hand brought a tingle of electricity wherever her skin touched Linda's. There were stars behind her eyes, then all of that light folded inward until she glowed from the inside out.
"We could go to the lip sync contest," Marissa offered sleepily quite some time later.
"Sure."
Marissa knew that voice. Linda was asleep, but her brain's autopilot would mumble appropriate responses if Marissa kept talking.
"Will you get me a space shuttle for my birthday?"
"Sure."
Marissa laughed softly to herself, then rose to turn out the lights. She studied the sweep of Linda's hair over the pillow before faint moonlight from the porthole replaced the last lamp's glow.
She slipped back into the circle of Linda's arms and melted at the warmth of Linda behind her. "Go dancing with me tomorrow night?"
"Sure."
"Marry me?"
"Sure."
"Love me forever?"
"Abso-freaking-lutely."
"You're not asleep."
"I was."
Marissa fondly tickled the arm around her waist. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"All the tomorrows."
Linda pulled her a lithe closer. "Finders keepers, sweetheart. You're mine now."
Lip Sync
Karin Kallmaker
"She's doing a great job selling that song."
Dishra turned from her adoration of the woman on stage to give Brandy an agreeing smile. "It doesn't hurt that there's a strong resemblance. Add the wig, dress and the real Mariah Carey's voice, and she does put on a perfect illusion."
"You work wonders with the wigs. Peggy Lee is perfect."
Her focus back on the woman moving like a diva in the spotlight, Dishra said, "Wait until you see ABBA."
Brandy chuckled appreciatively as she moved on. Dishra hoped she got hired by LOVE—she was a delight to work with. Then she forgot all about such matters as "Mariah" exhorted the crowd to shake it off, all the while strutting in five-inch stilettos and a body-molded gown that left little to anyone's imagination.
Certainly it left nothing to Dishra's. Oozing sex appeal, lip syncing with confidence and dancing with abandon, the woman on stage moved like a real goddess. Dishra had always had a thing for Mariah. She'd always been convinced that if only Mariah met the right woman, she'd be singing an entirely different tune. Dishra had always believed, from the time she was about twelve, that she was the right woman for Mariah.
The crowd was into the number, cheering at the defiant, "Baby, I'm Gone" and applauding madly as the contestant left the stage. As she breezed past Dishra she gave her a look that was pure siren. All that exuberant lesbian energy in the room— Mariah seemed to have gotten infected. At the door to what served as a quasi-dressing room, Mariah gave her one more look over her shoulder.
Heart pounding, Dishra got Peggy Lee into position, checked that the blond page boy wig was still on straight, then followed Mariah into the chaos of the room set aside for Love’s overflow use. The steady pulse of "Fever" followed after her even when the door had closed. Appropriate, she thought.
"Thank you for all your help," Mariah said. She put up a hand to remove the wig, but Dishra caught it and pulled the surprised woman deeper into the room. Behind the stacked high boxes of T-shirts and CDs for sale, she found a dark corner and pushed her personal diva up against the wall.
"I don't care if this gets me fired. I want to make you sing for me."
Mariah resisted until Dishra's lips were on hers, then the fever seemed to catch her too. Somebody had loved Mariah wrong, and Dishra was going to love her right.
"Yeah, kiss me," she whispered, and Dishra was happy to oblige.
The sun was lighting up the daytime from the stage speakers when she felt Mariah's hands on hers, guiding them around her hips to her ass, then up to her breasts. Dishra's head was spinning.
That soft, sweet voice asked, "How did you know what I wanted?"
It was not a moment to be shy. They didn't have much time before she had to get ABBA lined up for the stage. "I've always known what you wanted. And what you needed." She yanked up the dress and massaged die soft insides of two perfect thighs. She worked down the pantyhose just far enough, then boldly pushed her hand in.
"Oh, baby, that's right, that's what I need. God, how did you know?"
Grinning, Dishra angled her palm up to a wonderfully prominent clit while she wiggled her fingers, getting them wet and ready. From her back pocket she removed a small packet of lube. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"
"Whatever it is, you know I want it."
She tore the packet open with her teeth as Peggy sang about Romeo and Juliet. With a shift of her hand, the tips of two fingers sank into the increasingly slippery and sodden woman. This was her diva, her songbird goddess, and it was perfectly natural to get down on her knees to worship at the only shrine that mattered.
With a growl she locked her lips around the beautifully peaked and straining clit, and the noise Mariah made was the kind of music Dishra had wanted to hear for years. She squeezed the packet of lube and knew some of it missed her hand, but most of it went where she wanted. She was slick past her wrist, and Mariah might say she didn't know what was about to happen, but from the way she planted the stilettos and spread her legs, it was clear she had expectations.
Captain Smith and Pocahontas were burning in the fever as Dishra pushed all of her fingers into Mariah's delicious pussy. She was getting sweet wetness on her shirt, on Mariah's dress, but nothing was going to stop her from giving the moaning woman what she needed.
"Sing for me, baby," she said, low and intense, as she tucked her thumb and pushed firmly.
"Oh, oh, oh, baby!"
There was no time to pause in awe at the sight of the beautiful black-fringed cunt clasped around her hand, to wonder what an artist would make of the hues of cocoa, caramel and rich, lustrous red. This wasn't art, it was sex, and the way her hand was being squeezed and molded, obviously needed and enjoyed, had blood pounding in Dishra's ears.
She leaned in to slip her other arm around Mariah's hips and pushed gently up, once, twice, then harder. "I'm going to fuck you right off those pretty shoes."
Long fingernails dug into her scalp, then slid away as Dishra's tongue flicked over the swollen, gleaming clit.
"That's right, you fuck me. Fuck me good. That's what I need, damn it."
Every thrust of her arm was met by responsive, powerful muscles that pulled her hand in deeper, then threatened to push her out.
"No, you don't. I'm not done. I like watching my wrist go in, and then slide back out. You are so incredibly beautiful. You do give me fever, baby."
Mariah grappled for some kind of balance against nearby boxes after Dishra went in so hard and deep the stilettos slipped. "Harder," Mariah begged. "Harder!"
"Come on my hand." Dishra sucked the hard clit between her lips again as Mariah finally sang the high note she'd always imagined. Mariah's cunt shuddered around Dishra's hand until she pushed it out with a hoarse cry. She surged against Dishra's mouth, violently scrubbing her clit across Dishra's chin and lips. Her tight curls reddened Dishra's cheeks. Tomorrow, she thought, I'll look like I got too much sun, but this was a much, much more lovely way to burn.
"Jesus Christ," Mariah gasped as she started to go limp.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I have to go." The applause was rising, and Dishra knew ABBA was milling around off stage, wondering what to do.
God, I'm a mess, she realized, wet and sticky from my nose to my fingertips. She grabbed a T-shirt from the defects and discards pile and wiped her face and arm as she ran for the door. Peggy was just coming off stage, flushed and pleased.
"You were great. Wait right here for the results after our last act. Girls, stand right here, now do your entrance!" Dishra pushed the trio of jump suited platinum blondes toward
the spotlight, then hurried back to the little room where she'd left that hot, beautiful woman.
When she opened the door she saw her girlfriend, Becka, perched on a stack of boxes. One stiletto dangled from her fingertips as she massaged her toes.
With a lopsided grin, she asked, "Did you make it in time?"
"Yeah, baby, just in time." Aching with affection and gratitude, Dishra pulled Becka to her feet to hug her.
"You smell like sex," she murmured into Dishra's chest.
"So do you."
"Not as much as I'd like." She leaned back to give Dishra another of those looks. "Mariah got really fucked, baby, but now I'd like something of my own."
The stage speakers pulsed out "Waterloo."
"I promise to love you evermore," Dishra said, "but this is pure Top Forty, baby, and the song is only three minutes, including the applause. I can't do everything I want in what's left."
"You can kiss me then."
No hardship, that. Dishra brushed her lips to Becka's, then went in for a long, wet kiss that promised more later. "Thank you, darling, for dressing up for me."
"It was all my pleasure."
The singers were finally facing their Waterloo, and Dishra knew she had to let go of Becka. "Why don't you join the others backstage when you've caught your breath?"
"Okay."
At the door, Dishra looked back to watch Becka slip her delicate foot into the killer stiletto.
Becka looked up and grinned. "Honey? We can keep the outfit until tomorrow, can't we?"
There was only one thing to say to her passionate, playful girlfriend in reply to such a perfect idea.
"I adore you."
Easy Loving
Radclyffe
"How many propositions did you get while I was in line for the restroom?" Honor Blake sat down on the end of the lounger while a few hundred women danced and parried on the pool deck.
"Not a single one." Quinn Maguire pulled Honor higher between her legs and leisurely traced her tongue along the edge of Honor's lip. "I was just sitting here missing you."
"Really?" Honor skimmed her mouth over Quinn's ear. "Blonde, twenty, big breasts, thong bikini."
"Oh," Quinn murmured. "Her."
"Uh huh." Honor leaned back, surveying her lover. Even wearing loose khaki shorts and her favorite T-shirt bearing the name of the girls' soccer team she coached, Quinn looked deadly sexy stretched out under the stars. Honor had observed more than a few women taking note of Quinn's Black Irish good looks and athletic body. "Did she drool anywhere?"
Laughing, Quinn lifted aside the red-gold strands of Honor's shoulder length hair with one hand and nuzzled her neck. "She asked me to dance, and I told her I reserved that pleasure for my wife."
Honor tilted her head back so Quinn could kiss the spot below her ear that always made her instantly wet. Not that she needed any special encouragement this week. The excitement of finally being on vacation, just the two of them, left her constantly horny. Being able to have Quinn whenever she wanted only made her hungrier for her. "You'd better have told her you save all the pleasures for me."
"I think the word wife did the trick."
"I guess your wedding band isn't big enough." Honor nipped at Quinn's chin. "Come on. Want to dance again? It's almost eight back home, and we'll need to head inside soon to call Arly."
"So let's just make out for a few minutes instead." Quinn shifted her focus to the area exposed by the open buttons of Honor's sleeveless blouse and kissed the soft triangle of skin between her breasts.
"Oh, no." Laughing, Honor braced both hands against Quinn's shoulders and pushed her away. "We didn't travel four thousand miles to do what we could just as easily do in our backyard."
"With half the neighborhood, one mother-in-law and a nine-year-old daughter likely to traipse through at any moment, there's no way we can do in the yard what I have in mind right now." Quinn grabbed Honor's hand and pushed it under her T-shirt, trapping it against her stomach. Reflexively, Honor stroked Quinn's abdomen, coaxing the muscles to contract. Quinn leaned her head back with a satisfied smile. "That's a start."
"You know how much it turns me on," Honor murmured, leaning down to suck on Quinn's lower lip as Quinn's belly danced under her fingertips, "when you get all hard and quivery like this."
Quinn blinked lazily and spread her legs farther, pressing her crotch against Honor's hip. "Yeah. I know." She circled her cheek over Honor's breast. "Jesus, it feels so good when you do that. I think you could get me off if you just kept rubbing me like that."
"Honey," Honor scraped her nails lightly up and down the center of Quinn's tense abdomen, knowing just exactly how hot and how wet that would make her lover. "There are about a hundred lesbians in our immediate vicinity, and I have no intention of letting a single one of them get a glimpse of what belongs to me." She nipped at Quinn's neck. "You're beautiful when you're excited, and you're mine."
"No one's watching us," Quinn said. "But just the same, I'll pretend nothing's happening. Keep going."
Honor laughed and skimmed her fingers through Quinn's short, thick dark hair. "You might have perfect control in the operating room, Dr. Maguire, but there are some things even a big tough trauma surgeon like you can't manage." She slid her other hand between Quinn's legs and squeezed her through her shorts. "And being quiet when I make you come is one thing you haven't mastered."
"The music's loud enough so no one will notice," Quinn gasped, covering Honor's hand with hers and guiding her fingers over a spot just to the left of the seam in her shorts. "This week is the first time I've had you completely to myself, and I can't get enough of your hands on me."
Honor grew still. "I know it's tough, walking into a relationship with a ready-made family. Then with both of us heading up departments—"
"Honor," Quinn said, lifting Honor's hand from between her legs and cradling it against her cheek. "That's not what I meant. I love Arly almost as much as I love you. I love our family. I just like having all your attention."
"Oh, you've got my attention all right." Honor drew Quinn's hand to her breast where her nipple tightened into a hard prominence against Quinn's palm. "You're not the only one who can't get enough. I'm so swollen right now I'm not sure I can walk."
"Let's go make that call, and then let's go to bed," Quinn said, her voice husky. "What did she have after school tonight? Karate practice, right?"
Honor nodded, keeping Quinn's hand in hers as they rose. "Yes. She's working on her fourth form, remember?"
"How could I forget?" Quinn circled Honor's waist with her arm as they wended their way through the crowd of laughing, dancing women. "We've been working on that backhand knife block for weeks."
"Yes, we'll be home in time for the tournament." Quinn sprawled on the couch, the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, and grinned at Honor, who stood beside the bed unbuttoning her blouse. "You still have the schedule, right? We'll be back in Venice the day after tomorrow. I promise we won't miss the plane home."
Honor dropped her blouse on the floor, her eyes holding Quinn's. Quinn gave her a look as if she were in pain and mouthed Have mercy. Honor smiled.
"What, kiddo?" Quinn frowned. "Master Cho made you do twenty extra sit-ups? Oh. Well, if you leave your mark before the count, it might seem like you weren't listening."
Honor trailed her fingers over her breasts and down the center of her abdomen as she walked over and stood in front of Quinn.
"I know you just wanted to explain and weren't really arguing." Quinn hooked a finger over Honor's waistband and pulled her closer. Then she leaned forward and kissed Honor's stomach at the edge of her navel. "But Master Cho has to keep the class running on schedule, and part of learning to be a good martial artist is to follow the rules. You can do that, right?"
"Phone," Honor whispered before sinking her hands into Quinn's hair and rubbing her belly over Quinn's face.
"Your mom wants to say hi," Quinn said, stroking Honor's thigh. "I'll see you
soon and then we'll talk about what happens when a rule doesn't seem fair. Here's Mom."
"Hi, sweetie," Honor said, caressing Quinn's neck. "How's everything?"
Quinn unzipped Honor's shorts, pulled them down, and let them pool on the floor around their bare feet. Then she skimmed a fingertip beneath the edge of Honor's pale yellow bikinis and kissed lower on her belly. Honor's thighs trembled, and Quinn followed the path her finger had taken with her tongue.
"Isn't it about time for you to get ready for bed?" Honor said, catching Quinn's chin in her fingers to stop her movements. "We miss you too. Bunches. We'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Love you too. Bye, sweetie."
Honor tossed the phone onto the sofa and grabbed a fistful of Quinn's hair, pulling her head back until their eyes met. "You cannot do that to me while I'm talking to our daughter."
"I wasn't going any lower."
Honor bumped her hips forward. "Wanna bet?"
"At least not until you got off the phone." Quinn grabbed her around the waist and rested her chin on Honor's stomach. "Is she okay?"
"She's fine. Just misses us."
"I miss her too," Quinn said with a sigh.
"I remember when we first met you said you weren't very good with kids."
Quinn looked up. "It's different when they're yours."
"I know. You're great with her." Honor stroked Quinn's face. "She really wants a brother or a sister."
"Well, we're trying," Quinn said gently, knowing how hard it was for Honor not to have gotten pregnant the first two times they tried. She had been careful not to let her own disappointment show, because she never wanted Honor to think she wasn't completely happy with their life. "Sometimes it just takes a while."
"Mmm," Honor said, "it sure seemed that way."
Quinn slipped her fingertips beneath the bikinis and skimmed them down and off, needing Honor naked, needing the connection that centered her world. "Don't worry, it will hap—" She stopped abruptly and jerked her head up. Honor was smiling. "Seemed that way? Seemed as in past tense?"
Honor nodded.
"You're...?”
In Deep Waters_Cruising the Seas Page 19
