Car Pool

by Karin Kallmaker

  Anthea tried to take it in. She sat up. “And your boss is trying to hide it? How can he get away with that?”

  “Dumb luck. He’s insisting it’s a lab error, but I don’t think so. So he leaves it out of the report summary, but presents the data tables intact to the Water Board. Then he hopes that the Regional Water Board is so understaffed that the report is all that will get studied. It happens. It’s a crime. The reporting mode at NOC-U is to bury the public safety boards with paperwork. They get discouraged and don’t read as closely as they should — they’re only human. Meanwhile, a carcinogen gets closer to the clean water channel. And it’s not just NOC-U. It’s all toxic-producing industry in general.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “The idiot left his version in word processing pickup long enough for me to stumble over it. And I think I’m the only person out there who would see what was happening. They’ve vastly underrated my scientific background. To them, I’m just a well-digger and a sample taker.”

  Anthea couldn’t believe it was true. She just couldn’t. “Are you a hundred percent sure the lab was right? Shouldn’t you take another sample?”

  “I’d love to, but last time I checked they cost two fifty a pop. I don’t have that kind of money to throw away on a maybe. Not when I know the lab result is right.”

  Anthea felt cold. She chose her words carefully. “If what you say is correct, I’ve just realized I trust you more than I do NOC-U.” She flushed with anger. “All that bullshit about safety records and how they care about the endangered hoot owl. More than anyone, I should know that they spent more on the ad production than they did on the owls, and then they only spent it to comply with a court order. Let’s be sure. Really sure. I’ll pay for the lab test.”

  “But Anthea, I don’t know if I can get another sample. And we have to move fast because of the reporting deadline.”

  “Let them file a false report.” She stood up and went to the railing. The sun was only an orange line beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. Shay joined her. “Have I been blind? Am I really this naive?”

  Shay was silent for a moment, then she said, “Naive about motives, maybe. And I think they’ve gone to great lengths to shelter people in the Executive Building from the rest of the refinery. So you don’t wonder. Or care.”

  “I care … or I thought I did. I’ve been all over that refinery. I’ve seen production up close. And somehow I keep forgetting what’s being produced. They’re necessary products. They’re things that we want to buy and make our quality of life what it is. It’s very easy to say we should all be riding horses

  but unless we all ride horses no one’s going to do it.”

  Shay nodded. “Conservation is good for the masses, but if the elite don’t support it nothing changes. I know that as well as anybody. It’s hard for a lay person to get mentally involved. Environmental issues are incredibly complex because it can get down into molecular analysis.” Shay absently scratched behind one ear. “If NOC-U is forced to remediate the soil in that area, there are at least seven different theories of how to go about it. The average person can’t get into that no matter how much they care.”

  “You’re making me feel less selfish. I truly feel as if I’ve been sleepwalking all my life.”

  “You had other things to think about,” Shay said. “You didn’t grow up with a madman who talked biology in his sleep.”

  Anthea felt a wave of warmth for Shay. She was being so… supportive. Shay put her hand on Anthea’s bare arm. A flash of heat sparked from Shay’s hand, up Anthea’s arm and settled in her stomach. If there had been any ice left from Lois’s departure, this heat would have melted it.

  “I’d bring your father back if I could,” Anthea murmured. “But I can’t. So I haven’t had a cigarette in three weeks. Or is it four?” Shay’s hands moved to her shoulders. Anthea touched Shay’s arms, feeling for the first time sinewy biceps and hard muscle in a woman’s body. None of her lovers had been like Shay. Anthea never would have guessed that Shay’s physique would have made her knees weak. Slender, small-breasted, short, dark. Had it been hidden racism that she had never intimately

  touched nonwhite skin before? Anthea shook away the thought, unsure of how to resolve it.

  She continued her exploration. Shay didn’t protest. In fact, her hands had dropped to Anthea’s waist. Anthea put one finger on Shay’s lips and the contrast of their darkness with her pale skin sent a tremor through her body.

  “Your skin is beautiful,” she said. Her fingers feathered over Shay’s cheeks and nose, then her ears and neck.

  “So is yours,” Shay said. Anthea heard her swallow. “Are you ever going to kiss me properly?” Anthea nodded and Shay’s mouth curved in a soft smile. “Well, I’m ready when you are.”

  Anthea hadn’t expected to feel so powerful. Shay was the one without a single ounce of spare flesh on her body — all that muscle and strength. But from somewhere inside her, Anthea felt a surge of eroticism because of the differences in their bodies. She bent Shay in her arms, tipped her head back and kissed her: a kiss that was all Anthea kissing Shay and Shay’s tiny moan, her body arching up against Anthea.

  Shay opened her mouth. Her hand at the back of Anthea’s neck urged Anthea to explore her. Anthea forgot to breathe for a long minute, then ended the kiss with a gasp for air.

  “Oh, my,” Shay murmured. “That was… very nice.”

  Anthea cleared her throat. “I thought so, too.”

  Shay put her hands on Anthea’s shoulders and pushed herself easily up onto the deck railing. Anthea clutched at her. “Don’t fall.”

  “I won’t,” Shay said. “I just wanted to be taller

  for a minute.” She drew Anthea between her knees and looked down into Anthea’s face. Her eyes, wells of glistening darkness, focused on Anthea’s lips. Anthea heard a sigh, a half-caught breath, then she lost track of time. Sweet tension. She wanted to press her lips harder against Shay’s, devour her mouth. She clenched her fingers around the tiny waist, pulling Shay’s weight toward her. She felt passion building in her stomach with waves of fluttering excitement.

  Shay arched against Anthea’s hip and Anthea turned slightly, inviting Shay’s hand to leave her shoulder and move lower. She didn’t want to end this kiss, but Shay finally raised her head. Breathlessly she slipped her fingers under the thin fabric of Anthea’s tank top. Anthea moaned — she could feel a rhythm in her hips, something like an electric bass. Pulsing and low.

  Her fingers were a tangle as she struggled with the buttons of Shay’s blouse. Shay’s hand pushed against the tight confines of Anthea’s bra. Anthea pushed Shay’s open blouse away, admiring the small breasts that dimpled in the cool air.

  Shay’s fingers closed on Anthea’s nipple as Anthea engulfed one breast in her mouth. Anthea savored the flesh, devouring the soft hardness with a long groan. She heard a tiny cry from Shay and came back to herself.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped.

  “No … you surprised me.” Shay pushed the bra and tank top straps off Anthea’s shoulders, peeling them downward. She cupped Anthea’s breasts in her hands and said, “Please, go back to what you were doing … please.”

  Anthea felt the bass in her hips surge into a grinding beat. She meant to be gentle but found herself devouring Shay’s breasts again in needing desperation. Fingers captured and teased her own aching nipples which felt heavy and engorged. A groan wrenched from her own throat.

  They were down on the deck. Anthea didn’t think she had fallen there, but somehow she was on her back and Shay’s hands were everywhere — at her zipper, on her breasts, holding her head still for another long, breathless kiss. Anthea lifted her hips so Shay could pull her jeans down, then managed to unbutton Shay’s jeans. She found her hand slid easily across Shay’s smooth stomach. She surprised herself by not stopping, not teasing, her fingers sliding directly between Shay’s thighs.

  Shay must have been surprised, too. She shuddered and ground her hips t
oward Anthea’s seeking hand. In the darkness, Shay’s body was an unfamiliar blur lost in the shadows, but this wetness was familiar. Any anxiety she had about what Shay might want faded. She knew what to do — listen, feel, respond, dance with the new rhythm of Shay’s hips arching and straining against her fingertips.

  Shay shoved her jeans down, providing more room for Anthea’s hand. Anthea struggled upright to pull Shay against her, finding a better angle, the wetness sliding around her fingers. Then she paused, waiting, unsure.

  Shay’s eyes were closed. She bit her lower lip, then opened her eyes. Her hips moved in tiny flutters.

  Anthea moved her fingers toward the source of

  the wonderful slipperiness… a slight motion that made Shay nod her head. “Yes,” she said.

  Shay surrendered without protest, something she had never done before. Shay had found that her lovers — infrequent though they were — expected her to take the lead. And she did, giving before she took. She didn’t know why. But this surrender to Anthea was so much the sweeter. She managed to kick one leg free of her jeans, then she lifted her hips, saying deeper and yes without words. Saying more and harder with her arching back and a flutter of one hand.

  Anthea was breathing hard. Shay could hear the short gasps tinted with a moan back in her throat.

  Shay slammed both fists against the deck under her, fighting against losing what was left of her emotional distance from Anthea. How could she… . Anthea murmured something and Shay seized her shoulders, gripping them as hard as she could, while fierce contractions clenched her muscles tighter, until a brilliant quartz shimmered behind her eyelids.

  She slumped to the deck, sobbing for breath. Her head felt like lead. The rest of her body felt unreal. God, she thought. Harold was right.

  She realized Anthea was shaking as she withdrew her fingers. Shay pulled the damp hand to her breast with a sigh of pleasure.

  Anthea whispered, “Stay the night with me.”

  “You couldn’t make me leave,” Shay answered.

  Anthea led her to the bedroom Shay had

  glimpsed earlier. After flinging back the covers, Anthea fumbled with her clothing — tank top and bra bunched around her waist, jeans barely clinging to her hips — but Shay stopped her with a touch on the shoulder.

  “No, leave them like that. You… you look so wild. Your hair… .” She filled her hands with soft strands, then buried her face in them, rubbing them like silk against her lips. Her lips found skin and she brushed Anthea’s hair out of the path of her mouth as she kissed the pliant flesh.

  She wrapped her hands around one warm, ivory breast. So soft, she marveled, and so much for her mouth to savor and enjoy. She brushed the tip of her tongue over the rose-tinted nipple. Unexpectedly, Anthea swayed.

  She sank to the bed and Shay knelt on the floor in front of her, her tongue returning to the tender swell that grew harder against her tongue. She sighed deeply, feeling languid and hedonistic as she feasted on Anthea’s breasts … a prelude to another feast on even more sensuous flesh.

  Shay pulled Anthea’s clothes from her hips. Her head spun as she first saw the dark blonde hair triangled between Anthea’s thighs. She rested her forehead for a moment on the pale thatch, inhaling the scent of what she would soon taste.

  Recovering from her faintness, she pulled the clothes the rest of the way off. Anthea’s legs spread open. Shay promised herself she would give Anthea as much pleasure as she had already received. She would do it slowly, make it last a long time. She thought this even as she lowered her mouth to the

  triangle of blonde hair. She slipped her tongue into the ready wetness she found, heard Anthea gasp.

  She would go slowly, she told herself. Her tongue flicked and Anthea shuddered. She knew Anthea would like that and she would go slow. Slower, she told herself, even as her body sank between Anthea’s legs, her arms winding around Anthea’s hips. Her lips encircled the nerves knotted and pulsing under her tongue.

  Slow was impossible.

  She made the second time last longer, but her mouth was so hungry and eager she couldn’t restrain her desire for more. Her fingers slipped into Anthea’s heat and passion and Anthea’s hands pressed Shay’s head down. Her hands said stay there, like that, just like that.

  8 Fast Lane

  Shay felt a wet splash on her forehead and she brushed at it. She wanted to go on sleeping… she was melted into the bed. Even as she drifted off, she wondered how her bed had become so soft. And so wide.

  There was another droplet, on her cheek this time. She wiped it away and cracked her eyes open. They felt as if they’d been soldered shut.

  Anthea stood at the door to her bathroom,

  toweling her hair vigorously. Another drop from the fierce whirl of the towel fell onto Shay’s face. She sighed. The toweling immediately stopped.

  “Did I wake you?” Anthea asked. “I was trying so hard to be quiet.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t want to miss you getting dressed.” Shay wished Anthea weren’t wearing a bathrobe. All in a rush she remembered the abandon and oblivion of the previous night. She curled into a ball and smiled.

  “I don’t have to get dressed,” Anthea said. A subtle flush crept up her cheeks. Shay felt a similar flush in her own body. She wanted to do it all again.

  “Not at all,” Shay said. “You’re ahead of me by a shower, though.” She sat up, glancing at the bedside clock. Eight-thirty. She had to be at work in three and a half hours. That left plenty of time for… anything. She sniffed. “I need one, too.”

  “Why don’t you help yourself, and I’ll make some breakfast.”

  Shay was glad of the promise of breakfast as she stood wobbly-legged in the shower. Anthea had left her absolutely drained. She felt as weak as a day-old puppy when she finally stepped out of the steam. She found another robe and followed a tantalizing smell to the kitchen.

  Anthea was busily mincing green chilies next to the huge double sink. Shay decided that the island alone was bigger than the floor space of her entire kitchen. A copper bowl with what looked like beaten eggs stood next to a shallow copper omelet pan. “Spanish omelets?” From the porcelain crock on the kitchen island, Shay helped herself to a strawberry

  and dipped it into the whipped cream sitting next to them. Her taste buds went wild — tart, sweet, creamy, decadent.

  “I hope you like them,” Anthea said. “Would you rather have jack or cheddar?”

  “I’d rather have you,” Shay said. She gulped. That wasn’t what she had meant to say at all. It was a little too early in the morning for high passion.

  Anthea dropped the knife and flushed bright red. She picked the knife up again with a little laugh. “You’ve already had me.”

  Shay moved behind Anthea, wrapping her arms around Anthea’s waist. “I mean to do it again.” She felt her stiffen slightly, then relax.

  Shay loosened the tie of Anthea’s robe. The thin silk was far sexier than the utilitarian chenille Shay wore. She slipped her hands inside. Abundant and luxurious and so soft, Anthea’s breasts filled her hands again. “I think you should probably put the knife down,” she murmured.

  Anthea answered with an incoherent sound, but when she turned to Shay she was empty-handed. Shay only had to bend her head slightly to kiss Anthea’s nipples, to pull one into her mouth. She remembered what had made Anthea moan last night … a gentle bite, followed by hard pressure from her tongue. The combination made Anthea moan this morning too.

  “God, Shay, how can you do this to me?” Anthea threw her shoulders back and Shay took the gesture for encouragement and consent. She slipped to her

  knees. The dark blonde hair between Anthea’s thighs was still damp from her shower, but the wetness was slicker than water.

  Shay brushed it with her tongue. Anthea’s fingers curled into her hair, gripping so tightly it hurt, but Shay ignored it.

  “Slide up on the counter,” Shay told her.

  There was a clatter. Shay didn’t know what
had happened to the chilies and she didn’t care. Anthea was perched on the edge of the counter and Shay took some of Anthea’s weight on her shoulders as she feasted.

  It seemed a perfectly appropriate thing to do in the kitchen. Anthea must have thought so too because her body responded almost instantaneously.

  They would have to try the dining room at some future date.

  Anthea crumpled down from the counter and Shay stood up, capturing Anthea between her body and the counter.

  “Okay?” Shay smiled up into Anthea’s dazed face.

  “Very okay,” Anthea answered. “Are you always that… hungry?”

  “No. And now I’m really starved.” She looked longingly at the omelet preparations.

  “You don’t really expect me to let that go unanswered, do you?” Anthea, some of her color returning, quirked her lips in a sensuous smile. Shay suddenly recalled the softness of those lips on her body.

  “No… I guess not. I’m hungry for all sorts of things this morning.” She felt Anthea’s fingers

  slipping between the folds of the bathrobe. “That, too.” She made an appreciative sound as she wrapped her arms around Anthea’s neck.

  Anthea answered with a sigh. Shay could hear Anthea’s steady heartbeat become more rapid as she rested her head on Anthea’s chest.

  Shay straightened and pushed herself away from Anthea. “I guess turnabout is fair play.” She stepped back until she felt the kitchen island against her hips and then pushed herself up onto the island. She spread her legs … she couldn’t pretend to be shy, not after what she’d just done, not after what they’d done on the deck. And there was no pretending she wasn’t ready.

  Anthea’s fingers slipped inside her. Shay felt a warm flush in their wake. She put her hands behind her and rested her weight on them, leaving her hips free to move in response to Anthea’s gentle strokes. She met each thrust, bucking against the fingers that sought the fire between her legs. She couldn’t stop the long, loud groans that wrenched out of her lungs.