by Rebecca Foxx
Chapter 2
Shelley hung up the phone then bounced around her apartment for a few minutes. Excitement coursed through her veins. There was something about that young spunky cocktail waitress that seemed to bring it out of her. There was something so wild and free about the girl.
When they first started dating, Shelley hadn't taken their relationship seriously. As a university professor, she was accustomed to dealing with a certain kind of woman. She was attracted to intelligence and sophistication. She preferred women who had traveled around the world, whose passport pages were filled with stamps, indelible marks that brought back memories of foreign adventures and explorations.
She liked women who could tell tales of strange encounters, sights, and sounds. That's not what Amy offered her.
Amy made her realize that maybe she took her life a bit too seriously. Maybe she took herself a bit too seriously as well. She had planned on being a great writer. In between classes, on the weekends, at nights she would write her novel or a collection of short stories.
She still hadn't quite figured out which. All of those great plans that she had formulated in her head had turned out to be very difficult to execute.
The burden of teaching several classes was far too much for her to be able to dedicate any serious time and energy to the production of her own work. At times, she felt like a mule, as if so much of what she had believed while obtaining her Master's and eventually her doctorate had turned out to be a lie.
If she lost this job at the university, she had no idea where she would end up. About three or four months ago, when she got to her breaking point, right after the stress of finals, she had seriously considered quitting. She had a little bit of money saved up.
Maybe what she needed to do was move to some remote rural place, start a commune with some really good friends, separate herself from the modern world. Maybe that's what she needed. In order to recharge and rejuvenate herself.
She was only 32, but she was beginning to feel and look older than that. Quite possibly a lot older than that. And right when she felt like the cord was about to snap, the rope about to break, she walked past a popular downtown cocktail restaurants and nothing was ever the same again.
It certainly wasn't the kind of place where she would normally hangout. Actually, there weren't many places that she hung pout besides coffee shops and bookstores and public parks. She was definitely not a nightlife type of person. But that day something about the place had caught her attention.
It must have been the spunky girl who was standing so innocently, but so seductively, right outside the restaurant. She wasn’t pleading with passersby to come into the restaurant. She was just radiating a powerful and intoxicating energy.
Chapter 3
"Do you have any specials today?" Shelley had asked, without even thinking about it.
Those words had just leaped from her mouth. She blushed red. This girl was clearly younger but there was something about her that unnerved the older woman. There was certainly something playful and carefree about the way she carried herself. Yet there was also something clever, wicked, and maybe even a bit sadistic.
Before answering, the young girl cocked her head to the side and smiled. Once again, Shelley could feel her face flushing red with shame. She felt so foolish. The shame wasn't the only emotion she felt. She also felt her legs and stomach beginning to tingle with sexual excitement. She could feel her panties getting wet.
"I'm sure we can find something special for you," the girl said.
It must have been slow day. Most of the restaurant, as swanky and trendy and fashionable as it appeared, was empty. Shelley grabbed a seat at the bar. It was too early in the day to be drinking. And anyway, she'd been trying to cut down on her daily calorie intake lately, working off a few pounds through dieting and exercising.
She ordered an appetizer of spicy calamari and a glass of Pinot Grigio. While she sipped on the wine and waited for the calamari to arrive, she wondered why she had chosen to come inside this place and sit down. She wasn't the kind of person who did spontaneous things. Everything needed to be detailed oriented and precise with her, or else she could really lose her cool and become frustrated.
It wasn't as if she didn't have a few syllabi to prepare, bills to figure out, administrators to appease. But instead of doing the necessary work, doing what any professional, serious, disciplined person would've done, like she always did, that day she was headed in a new direction. She could feel a new spirit and energy guiding her.
She slowly chewed the calamari, savoring its spicy chipotle flavor. The crispy, delicious, salty food felt so good in her mouth. She washed it down with the dry white wine, keeping her eyes closed as she chewed a large mouthful. After she'd finish the calamari, Shelley looked around the nearly empty restaurant. It still looked just as empty as ever. It was sort of sad, she thought. There was no way this place was going to make it.
She felt a slight brush against her shoulder. Her body trembled with pleasure. She had no idea what that feeling was. But it felt so good. She turned. It was the young spunky girl, her arms covered in tattoos. She sat down on the stool next to Shelley. But she didn't turn to Shelley right away. It was clear that she was spying out of the corner of her eye.
Shelley had to smile at that. She was game. She would play along. What did this young girl know? There was no reason, absolutely none, for her to be intimidated. That would be silly.
Shelley sighed as she felt a hand moving up the inside of her thigh. It felt so good to be touched like that. She couldn't remember the last time a woman's hand, an unknown hand, a hungry hand, had played between her thighs. The young girl's fingers danced up and down, back and forth. Shelley opened her eyes and swallowed hard. It felt so good. So damn good.
Chapter 4
After a few minutes, the young girl removed her hands from the inside of Shelley's thighs, slid off the stool, and sauntered away as if nothing had happened between them. Shelley was mesmerized. Who was this girl? She seemed so confident, so sure of herself. There was something so mysterious and alluring about the way she carried herself.
She was probably around the age of her undergraduate students. But she seemed a lot more interesting and layered than any of her students.
There was something so playful and wild about her. But that carefree wildness was also blended with wisdom and a certain toughness. It was a rare and very intriguing and sexy combination of characteristics.
Before leaving the bar, the two women had one more session of petting and flirting and foreplaying, which culminated in Shelley having one of the most intense orgasms she had in years. And it had happened while she sat there, innocently enough on the barstool.
Over the next few weeks that would become a tradition for the two women. Sometimes they would pretend as if they'd never met before, replaying the events of their first encounter. That could be particularly hot. But other times they couldn't pretend.
They would grab and claw and lock lips and twirl tongues, the minute they locked eyes on each other. And everyone in the restaurant, the regulars, and the staff, who were used to seeing them together, would just smile and shake their heads. The two women could really put on a show.
"Do you feel like eating anything yet?" Shelley asked.
Amy plopped down on the couch. She seemed exhausted. It was strange to see her so tired. She was always full of life and energy. That's why Shelley loved having her around so much.
"It got busier than I thought it would," she said. And there was a lot of drama between the owner and his wife. Reality-TV type drama.
"Sounds like you could really use a big glass of wine."
"Red, I hope," Amy said. But I'd probably do better with some tequila. About 15 shots of it. That might help me purge my system."
"I hope you're cutting back on drinking these days," Shelley said. "You get really crazy and out of control sometimes."
She was genuinely worried about some of the Amy's late-night habits.
She was constantly surrounded by so much temptation. Shelly wanted to make sure that she didn't lose her way. She'd seen it happen to some of the young girls at the college. They would get caught up in making fast money and receiving a lot of attention from guys. Before long they would blow the money and screw up important relationships and wind up with nothing. She didn't want to see that happen to Amy. But there might have been something else, something a bit more personal and selfish that was motivating her as well.
"Thanks for the advice, mom," Amy said with a lot of bite and bitterness in her voice.
Shelley felt stung by the tone and the tenor of Amy's response. That wasn't something that she would've said lightly. She had so many painful memories, memories that she had poured out after their passionate lovemaking sessions, so many painful memories of her mother walking out on her when she was only a young girl, leaving her all alone with an ailing grandmother who die a few months after taking Amy in.
It had been so cruel. She was only a teenager at the time. Thankfully, she'd wound up with a very loving foster family that tended to spoil her, giving her everything her young, broken heart desired.
Maybe they felt it was what they owed her because the world had treated her so badly, beaten her up so many times. Shelley would sometimes marvel at how light and fun loving Amy seemed, given all the pain and heartbreak that she'd been through in her young life.
And at those moments she would begin to wonder, whether or not there was something deeper to this girl, whether or not the lighthearted playful exterior was just a way to cover the pain that bubbled beneath the surface.
Shelley sighed heavily, knowing that she made a mistake, knowing that she'd push things too far by reminding Amy of her nagging and deadbeat mother. That was the last thing that she wanted to do. She felt embarrassed and ashamed. She poured them each large glasses of red wine. Before going over to the couch with the glasses, she picked up one of them, tipped her head back and took a large, gluttonous gulp.
"I didn't mean to be a bitch," Shelley said as she poured herself she refilled the glass that she had almost half-emptied.
"I know," Amy said. "I didn't say you were being a bitch. I said you were being like my mother, which is a lot worse."
"Well, I'm glad to see you're in a good mood tonight," Shelley said.
Realizing that the best way to handle this mood was not to indulge Amy too much. She could already be spoiled and bratty enough. If they were going forward with this relationship, then Shelley wanted Amy to mature. Shelley had a feeling that this young girl would bring chaos and disorder to her life. That both scared and excited her. But she knew that at a certain point her desire for all that excitement would wear away.
She didn't want to think about that. Once they had a bit of wine in them, the conversation would turn to more lighthearted subjects and everything would be back to normal between them. They would be cuddling and cooing and kissing and hugging and touching each other lovingly and affectionately. That's what most of their dates were like, whether they went out or stayed in or met at the bar and played their little petting game. That's how it always was.
Shelley wasn't quite sure why things had gotten off to such a weird start tonight. But she suspected that it had something to do with the love triangle that she found herself in. Neither Amy nor Cassidy knew about each other. The guilt of this deception was beginning to get to her.
This was not her style at all. She liked to be up front even, blunt sometimes with people. She didn't know how to tell either one of them what exactly she was feeling. But if she, were to be honest with herself, she would’ve had to admit that she didn't quite know what she was feeling. So many emotions swirled in her conflicted mind. She finally sat down on the couch and handed Amy the glass of wine.
"Let's toast," Shelley said, hopeful that she would be able to shake Amy out of her funk.
"Yes, let's toast," Amy said. "To my good mood."
They clinked glasses and they each took long slow sips. By the time they put down their near empty goblets of wine, they were both giggling, laughing and tickling each other, kissing lightly on the neck and nibbling on each other's year lobes.
"I see the vino still does the trick on you," Shelley said.
"Yeah, well I guess you know it gets me.--"
Amy's words were cut short, as Shelley squeezed both of her breasts and then began kissing hungrily at her cleavage.
"You feel so good," Amy said. "I love the way you touch me."
"I think I know just where to touch you, tonight," Shelley said.
"And I think I'll probably stay down there a little bit longer than usual if that's all right with you."
"Fuck yeah, that's all right with me," Amy said. "I love how your tongue feels inside of me, working back and forth across my lips and, I really love when you just rest flat right there and I--"
Chapter 5
Shelley put her hand over Amy's mouth. She didn't want to hear anymore of her words. She began unbuckling her jeans, anxious to get inside of those panties, anxious to sink her tongue into the folds of the young and still tight pussy.
She'd never imagined that she'd become one of those older women who preyed on the young, who craved that boost of youthful energy she received from being in the presence of a young, beautiful, girl made her feel.
When the pants had finally come off, Shelley got down on the carpet. "Get down here," she said.
Amy smiled wickedly and hurried to the carpet, she stepping out of her panties, kicking off her socks, pulling off her shirt. For several moments they rolled around and scratched and clawed each other, kissing, pulling each other's hair, their legs and breasts and bellies rubbing together. They were two wild animals ready to just tear each other apart sexually, in the most loving and passionate way.
Just when the fun was going to the next level, just when they were both going to push past their limits, there was a loud series of knocks on the door. Who could that be? Shelley asked herself, afraid that she knew exactly who it was, afraid that things would never be the same when she opened that door.
For a moment, Shelley considered not opening the door. What would be the point? She knew what was going to happen next. She hadn't made any plans with Cassidy for that evening. And she'd never just showed up like this before. It was all so strange. But she knew, that no matter how long she waited, eventually she was going to have to deal with the storm that was brewing on the other side of that door.
Three more loud knocks on the door, unsettled Shelley even more.
"Who is it?" Amy asked. "Not one of your jealous lovers, is it?"
Shelley wished that she could have laughed at that last question. But there was really nothing funny about it at all. Three hearts, three souls, three women were now intertwined in a love triangle. Things were bound to get messy. Feelings would be hurt, hearts broken, spirits torn asunder. If she had only been honest with both of the women in her life, this might never have happened. It was all so damn foolish.
After telling Amy to go get dressed in the bedroom, Shelley quickly put her clothes and screamed out, "I'm coming. One second."
She closed her eyes took several deep breaths then buried her head in her hands. She shook her head from side to side, forlornly, desperate for some means of escape, desperate for some idea how to best handle the situation.
Knock, knock, knock.
Chapter 6
"I'm not leaving until you open the door. This is fucking ridiculous!"
It took a lot for Cassidy to get angry and curse. Shelley knew that should had really fucked up. There was no sense waiting anymore. Delaying was just making things worse, just making Cassidy even angrier. And the angrier she got the more difficult it would be to find some sort of reconciliation, to sit down and calmly and intelligently discuss this matter.
She opened the door. Several moments of silent tension passed before either one of the woman said anything.
Cassidy, who clearly had been crying, had make-up streaks dow
n her cheeks. Her pale face was bright red with anger. She was the first to speak.
"Don't even waste your time lying to me," she said snarling at her lover. "I know what you've been doing."
"I don't want to lie to you," Shelley said.
Cassidy snickered.
"Are you sure it isn't too late for that?" She asked smirking.
Shelley had never seen this sort of body language, and never felt this sort of energy, coming off of Cassidy before. She had her arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes were narrow, her brow knitted. If Shelley didn't know her better, she would have feared that something physical was about to happen to her.
