We grabbed beers from a passing waiter, clinked bottles, and said, “Cheers,” in unison. We laughed. She had beautiful even white teeth.
“You look great,” I said. Good enough to eat. Her Internet photos didn’t do her justice.
“So do you,” she answered, her eyes locked on mine.
I touched her arm and wanted to touch so much more. “Good luck tonight. You’re sure to win.”
“Thanks, but have you read the others in the category? I think I have some stiff competition.”
“‘Stiff’ as in dead. There’s no contest. You may as well claim the prize so the two of us can go back to your hotel and fuck our brains out.” I couldn’t believe I just said that. From the surprise on her face, neither could she, but then she grinned.
“You wanna?” She said it jokingly, but her gaze belied her nonchalance.
“Sure, let’s blow this joint.”
We both laughed, knowing there was no way we were going to leave before they handed out the awards. It was fun to tease, though, except the teasing was making my clit twitch. Now that I’d met her I was more and more sure that the things we’d hinted we’d like to do in a night of passion were going to happen. Part of me started to panic, but I looked at her again and I felt safe. It was going to be hard to concentrate on the ceremonies.
“Shall we go in?” she said when the lights flashed.
I nodded, and she downed the rest of her beer. I had hardly touched mine. We gave the bottles to the waiter collecting empties, and she led the way into the auditorium with her arm loosely around the small of my back. Her touch was light but it sent electricity shooting through my body directly to the heightened nerve endings of my clit. I shivered slightly.
“Are you cold?” She put her arm around my bare shoulder. “Would you like my jacket?”
How sweet. I shook my head. “You’re so hot…I mean, your body is exuding enough warmth to keep me toasty.”
“You’re pretty hot yourself. You smell so good too.” She rubbed her cheek against my hair and I nearly fainted. Fortunately, we found our seats just before my knees gave out.
Sitting close with only the armrest as a barrier, I leaned into her. “You nervous?”
“Nah.”
“Liar. I can feel you shaking in your boots.”
“That shaking has nothing to do with the awards.” Her eyes were hungry, as if she wanted to devour me in a single gulp. If she leaned toward me one more inch, our faces would touch. I longed to kiss those lips when she moistened them with her tongue. I wanted to be that tongue.
The lights went down and she nonchalantly put her hand on my thigh just under my dress. I moved ever closer as her hand inched its way up the inside of my thigh and spread my legs farther apart. It took all my strength not to scream out, Don’t stop. Claim your prize.
I prayed that she would keep going, knowing the thin silk of my panties would not get in her way. She pushed the material aside. My clit was about to explode. Her nimble fingers caressed my soft curls and I sighed. It was delicious. Keep going. You’re almost there, almost… and just when I thought I was about to get my wish the emcee took center stage and began his shtick. Angel cleared her throat and readjusted herself in the chair. If her clit was pulsating as frantically as mine, she was likely to miss her category being called, so I reluctantly let her go.
I delivered my well-rehearsed speech, laced with as many jokes as I could muster, and announced the winner for Best Lesbian Erotica. I didn’t wait onstage for her to thank everyone, but made my way back to my seat. Once seated, I could tell that Angel was sweating with anticipation for her award. Best Debut Fiction was up next.
I took her hand and squeezed it. “Good luck,” I whispered in her ear, purposely tickling her with my breath. The lights from the stage were just enough for me to make out her hardened nipples beneath her shirt.
I heard her name and jumped out of my seat. The cover of her novel was larger than life on the two-story screen. She sat there stunned for a second but got her legs to work and regained her composure. She stood up and I hugged her in congratulations. The heat between us ignited my fire even more. I was bursting with excitement. Seeing her stride to the podium, so confident and poised, made her that much more desirable, if that were possible. I wanted her so badly. My favorite book had won, but more importantly, my favorite author had won, and I planned to be the one to help her celebrate.
Angel looked radiant as she came back to her seat and, impulsively, I kissed her on the lips. She flashed me one of her dazzling smiles, took my hand in hers, and I lifted it to her lips. I put my hand on her knee and slowly made my way up toward her inviting crotch. There were people all around us, which only made me more excited. I was so turned on that I would have fucked her even if we were in Grand Central Station during rush hour. Applause erupted just as I reached the goal. I lost track of which category they were up to as I focused on Angel’s need. I imagined I could feel her stiff clit under my fingertips, so swollen and hard that even her pants couldn’t conceal its prominence. She twitched when I fingered her. My nipples hardened and the muscles tightened deep within my pelvis.
“I need the restroom,” she whispered urgently in my ear and got up suddenly.
She made it almost out of the auditorium before I got up to follow her.
I couldn’t believe what I was doing. My heart thumped hard, and it wasn’t just from the steep incline of the auditorium and my three-inch heels. I was so swollen that my clit was squeezed with each step. Making my way out of the auditorium and opening the door, I quickly headed to the ladies room. I made it there in record time.
Angel turned around as if expecting me and put her award down on the counter. I practically flung myself at her, frantic for the taste of her lips, kissing her as I made my way down to her breasts—undoing buttons two at a time.
She stopped me. “Hey, who’s the butch here, anyhow?”
“You are, but I want you so badly I can’t help it. Besides—you like to think you’re so tough, but I know what a mush you really are.”
She laughed. “So take me, then.”
As I fumbled with her shirt, she led us into a stall. Since I was all over her, she barely got the door locked. Possessively, she wrapped her arms around me. Now look who was taking whom! Relinquishing control for the moment, I felt safe in her embrace. Never having felt this way about anyone, I trusted her implicitly. The restroom was empty and the thought that someone could walk in at any moment titillated me. I soaked through my panties. If we kept up this fevered pitch, I knew I was going to come and it was going to be quick; I was on the brink and she hadn’t even touched me yet.
I pushed up her bra and pulled one well-rounded, delicious nipple into my mouth. I was teasing her hardened nipple with my teeth and tongue when she groaned and stopped me.
“Oh, God, not like this.”
“Was it too hard?”
“No, perfect. Just perfect. But let’s get out of here. Our first time needs to be better than this.”
“What could be better than being with you?”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“But what about your publisher’s reception…”
“We’ll come back, maybe. I’m so hard—I need you now. My hotel is around the corner.” She interlaced her fingers in mine and grabbed the award with the other hand. “Come on.”
We practically ran to the hotel. The night air cooled my flushed, hot skin, but it did nothing to alleviate the fire inside. We reached the lobby of the hotel in record time and made out in the elevator on the way up to her room.
Shivering from anticipation, I knew in my heart that I was about to embark on new territory and realize my dream. Suddenly, I knew what I wanted and I was surer than ever. The mere thought of her kissing me, caressing me—fucking me, made me wet. The reality of it overwhelmed me. I felt as if I had finally arrived at the place I was supposed to be.
Angel didn’t waste any time getting her key out and opening t
he door. In one fluid motion, she lifted me into her arms and carried me across the threshold. My limbs were putty. Again, I relinquished all control to her. She set me down beside the bed.
My strapless Lycra dress slipped off easily as Angel grasped the hem and pulled it down. She sucked on my neck as she removed my Victoria’s Secret bra that wasn’t a secret anymore and playfully teased at my breasts. She returned her attention to my waiting mouth and penetrated me with her tongue. I heard myself moan as her thigh made its way up against my clit. I had my hands on her head pulling her closer.
Angel pulled away just long enough to kick off her boots, remove her shirt, sports bra, pants, and underwear. She was a true redhead. I smiled. Her curves were beautifully accentuated with smooth muscles that rippled slightly as she moved. Her skin was a creamy white that I often dreamed about. She was flawless. We backed onto the bed, her touch never leaving my tingling skin.
I couldn’t take it a moment longer. “Please…I need you…inside.”
“Soon. Let me look at you first.”
She removed my lace panties, slowly torturing me as she spread my legs as far as they would comfortably go. She licked her finger and opened my lips before touching my tender, swollen clit. I thought I would die.
“You are so beautiful. Just as I imagined you’d be,” she said and continued to stroke the length of my clit on either side with her thumbs, slowly easing her finger inside me.
“So good.” I’m sure I dug my nails into her arms, but she didn’t even flinch.
“Deeper,” I begged. I wanted her inside me. She took her time. “I’m going to come…”
“No, wait. Hold on. I want to taste you.” Before I knew it, she had my swollen clit in her mouth and was sucking it in a way that I had never felt before. I was so wet, so close…instinctively she looked up for a second. “Soon,” she said.
And I obeyed.
The hints and the innuendos in a year’s worth of e-mail and chat had prepared me for this moment. I wanted her in ways I never trusted any woman before. She inserted one, then two, then four fingers inside me as she sucked and licked. The combined effort was sensational. Enthralled, I held my breath to avoid even the slightest distraction each time I got closer to orgasm. I didn’t care if I died just then from asphyxiation.
“I want all of you in me,” I begged.
“Have you ever?”
“No, but I want to with you.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes…please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. I trust you. Please, Angel. Take me. Fuck me, please!”
“Can you relax for just a minute, baby? I won’t do that without lube.”
“Okay,” I said shakily. I didn’t want her to, but her concern that I not be hurt touched me.
She was only gone a moment or two, and after a hot, reassuring kiss, her slick hand was between my legs again. Carefully, watching my expression, she guided her fist inside me tentatively, at first compressing her fingers to fit in the tight space. I leaned on my elbows to watch as she skillfully guided her fist up and in me as high as it would go. It cut like a knife at first but then, ooh, it felt soooo good in a wicked way. The more turned on I became, the more delicious it felt.
A mixture of concern and awe on her face made me feel special—loved, even. She looked like she was in a wonderful place and I was right there with her. I concentrated on relaxing as she worked her hand inside me, but my muscles had a mind of their own, tensing and flexing with each thrust. I swallowed her up as she went deeper still. Watching her excited me further until I could not bear it any longer. I lay back and enjoyed the sensation as she eagerly entered me at an increased pace. I brought my legs up over her shoulders. She fit inside of me perfectly. I was so wet, and I cried out in ecstasy again and again with each thrust, “Harder, harder.” I was so close—the rougher the better.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure! Do it! I’m almost there.”
The last thrust accompanied by one last lick sent me convulsing as I came all over Angel’s fist. I shuddered again, letting the orgasm take me over and over again until the last ripple ceased and all I could feel was the calm of a warm glow. It was everything I’d imagined my first time being fisted would be, but more importantly, it was Angel who took me to that special place. Slowly she removed her fist, taking her sweet time, and when she licked her fingers, I quivered. “Ooh, baby…”
“You like?” She kissed my thigh, her voice sounding smug.
“Oh, I like. Come here. I want to give you my award for outstanding performance. Turn over.” I wanted to please her so badly.
“Two awards in one night. I don’t know if I can stand it.”
“You can stand it.” Luckily, I had pored over Angel’s every word and knew what she liked, but I was happy I had a few tricks of my own. Her reactions reassured me that I was a bona fide sex goddess.
After we were sated, dressed, and freshened up, we walked back to the auditorium hand in hand with the gentle breeze in our hair and lightness in our step. Her arm was draped protectively around my shoulder, and I had my arm around her waist with my hand in her back pocket. She kissed my neck and I pulled her closer. Finding my soul mate on the Internet was unbelievable enough, but our first encounter and my first experience with fisting exceeded my wildest fantasy. We made it back to our seats just in time for the lights to come up, signaling the ceremony was over. If we had been missed, nobody mentioned it. Angel accepted congratulations from all who offered them, then finally reached for my hand. She smiled at me and I melted at the heated promise in her eyes.
We both had won debut awards.
Perspex Window
Cheyenne Blue
Kate pushes her way ass first onto the promenade deck. The wind curls around the door, threatening to slam it back on her, and the sea swells enough that she lurches along the deck with a rolling gait. Carefully, she cradles her glass of Chardonnay. A second quarter bottle sticks out of her pocket.
She staggers along the deserted deck until she finds a sheltered corner. Metal and Perspex windbreaks divide the open area, and she presses up against a bulkhead, carefully setting down her glass on a ledge and turning away from the wind to light a cigarette. She huddles into the merge shelter and turns her collar up for the illusion of warmth. Here, the wind isn’t strong enough to be unpleasant, which is a good thing for an addicted smoker on a nonsmoking Irish ferry. Kate inhales, holds, and feels the nicotine steal through her blood.
She’s the only one on deck as far as she can tell. One o’clock in the morning, and the ferry is rocking its way from Rosslare to Cherbourg, packed with holidaymakers and Irish couples on swift shopping jaunts, off to buy cheap booze and cigarettes in France. Down on the car deck, her Suzuki waits, its back seats removed to fit more cases of wine. Shopping bags are piled on the passenger seat.
Kate pulls on the cigarette and the small lines crease above her upper lip. The wind whips a strand of graying hair across her mouth, and she pushes her free hand deeper into her jacket pocket. She can smell the sea, taste its briny sharpness. Seven hours into the crossing, and her body leans with the boat.
Inside the ferry’s heated interior the corridors are nearly deserted. There’s a faint smell of puke creeping out under the door of the toilets—probably from the group of underage lads determined to put the pints away. The restaurants have closed, and most people have shambled off to their tiny cabin bunks to close their eyes until morning.
Kate likes the sea air and she needs her nicotine, so she’s here, on the promenade deck, watching the moon carve a path across the slatey sea. Out here, she is alone. Only the white bench seats stand solemn sentry duty in the night.
A door crashes open behind her. Laughter, slurred and female, reaches her across the nonslip blue matting.
“For feck’s sake, Annie, can’t you walk in a straight line?” The voice is young and Dublin and has an indulgent lilt to its
censorial question.
“I can so. It’s this bleedin’ boat that can’t sail straight.”
Kate watches the women making their stumbling way to the railing. One bird-thin and fragile, the other stout with drafthorse buttocks; one with cropped hair, the other with a mess of tangled curls. They hold each other’s arms as they weave their way across the deck.
“Not here,” the thin one with cropped hair, Annie, mutters. “Anyone can see us.”
“There’s no one around.”
Annie is led back to a dubious shelter, to a nook behind one of the entrance doors, sheltered from the wind by a sheet of rust and Perspex.
Kate waits, watching idly, as she finishes her cigarette and takes a sip of Chardonnay. She can see them clearly, but obviously they haven’t noticed her.
“Here,” Curly-head says decisively.
She turns Crop-head and wraps her arms around her. Her mouth comes down, and Kate stifles a gasp. The kiss is long. Kate huddles deeper into her jacket and sips. Women. Kissing.
She’s not naïve; she knows it happens, and happens here in Ireland, in spite of the church’s stranglehold. And she has sometimes wondered, in a sort of vague afterthought way when the TV showed a lesbian kiss, what it would be like. But never has she seen it unfold in front of her. The cigarette burns down to the butt as the women kiss, and Kate watches. It’s a long kiss, a deep, drugging kiss, and the two figures merge in the moon-wrapped night, blend into the deep blue of the deck matting, fade into the shadows of the lifeboats. And still they kiss. Kate can hear the short pants of breath merging with the lap of the water against the sides and the creak of the boat as it rolls. She waits, not wanting to interrupt them now, although will they even notice?
Lessons in Love Page 12
