Lessons in Love

by Lessons in Love [Bold Strokes FF] (retail) (epub)

  Millennia ago, we would have lived in a cave high on a hill where a trickle of water and sunlight created a haze of ferns on the dark rock. Our skin was shaggy and our feet were wide with long strong toes. Our eyes were wild, our hands greedy and needy for the feel of each other…well, these days I guess we’re less hairy and the water comes from taps and plants grow in pots. We love through all time.

  Half drowning and delirous, we crawl back to our wrecked bed and you splash icy fizz into our glasses. An empty glass is a crime and we should have been arrested a thousand times. Someone a thousand miles and years away grew luscious rosy grapes and a dozen people stripped the vines in the sunshine, someone trod those grapes to pulp, someone let them ferment and let their essence fill bottles and fly over the oceans—and all for us. Because we’re worth it, we are worth everything and anything.

  We drink holding hands and look around—your stilettoes hurled against the wall, black velvet pants inside out on the table, silk shirt like a crash-landed parachute, electric blue thong a butterfly on the floor, electric blue lace bra crushed under the chair. My boots lie gawping on the sofa, twin socks their laughing tongues, jeans concertina-ed over the waste bin, somehow my shirt has flown to the overhead lamp shade, and my leather jacket lies in a deflated heap.

  “I love wrecking rooms with you,” you say, refuelling our glasses.

  “We need a big house,” I say. “Lots of rooms and a cleaner whose middle name is discretion.”

  “And no visitors,” you say.

  “I don’t think they could cope,” I say. “We could do a dinner party—just about—then you’d turn into the She-Hulk and they’d be very polite and wonder what they’d been drinking and why I’d dissolved into a pool of desire.”

  “Me—the She-Hulk?” you say, all convent girl prim.

  “Or the Blue-Eyed Thing,” I tell you, “smashing down any barriers I might be fool enough to imagine could keep you away.”

  “Even more trouble,” you say. “You have no idea how much.”

  “Show me.”

  “Only if you close your eyes and lie back,” you say.

  So I do.

  I feel you slide the black blindfold round my face. This is familiar. As is the feel of knotted silk on my wrists and the way you tether my wrists to the legs of the bed. I like the trouble I’m anticipating. Then there is silk at my feet and you are very quiet as you tie my unresisting ankles wide apart. Okay. Less familiar is when you slide a gag round my chin, the way you slide a pillow under my bum. And though I can hear the soles of your feet on the floor, recognize the sound of you changing the CD, then there is only the sound of music. God, I want you, where are you? Every pore of my skin is electric.

  I feel the mattress dip a little and I open for you, wanting, needing, expecting your tongue. Your hot skin brushes my inner thighs and my fingers and toes curl into hyperspace—your mouth? Your hand—God my love, touch me…

  And then there is the warm weight of you on top of me and your breath on my neck. Your hands on my breasts and you are glorious and suddenly you are inside me, hard and wet, and I need to be free to wrap myself around you, but I can’t move, just feel you pushing into me, pulling a little back then thrusting your hips against me, my darling, this is amazing.

  “I want to fill you,” you growl, tearing off my blindfold with your teeth, one hand on my throat now. Your eyes blaze like a solar eclipse and your head clamps between my neck and shoulder, I can see your ass clenching and plunging and a wide band of leather gleaming above the cleft and I am choking on this gag until you tear my mouth free and fill it with your tongue.

  “I want…”

  “Just wait. This is what I want,” you groan, thrusting slow and hard with every word.

  “I want…”

  “No,” you say like steel, “You want this. I know you do.”

  “I want this, I want you,” I gasp.

  “We’re going to come together,” you say, grinning, still slow and deep.

  “Yes,” I say, “I’m coming already, I can never stop coming to you.”

  Now your neck is pulsing and you are staring wild-eyed somewhere above my head.

  “What do you want?” you say intensely.

  “Untie my ankles,” I say. “Please. I need you to.”

  You curl over me, reach down and pull me free and I am suddenly empty—your leather belt twitches the deep purple strap-on against my thigh. I keep my legs flat until you are on me and in me again. Then my legs clamp around your waist and you go deeper into me, your eyes wide.

  “Is that what you want?” you ask me like a high priestess.

  “Yes,” I say.

  And then you thrash into me over and over faster and faster and on and on and I am yours. Forever. And you are loving me like we’ve never loved before and you scream as we come and still you invade me, still I surrender over and over and it’s never over until I shoot you right out of me and you free my wrists and your hands dig deep into my ribs and to the heart of me. Our total ecstasy slides like an electric eel over my heart and curls right into our guts and pours from us like the turbulence where a river meets the sea.

  Now, my love, you have nothing, I have absolutely nothing left, just us flying like the diamond rings of Saturn round our galaxy as our bodies collapse together and melt like the wax of twin candles lit in some ancient church and holding the prayers and hopes of the world.

  We sparkle like a star being born, we meld, we melt, we blend, so that even more I am part of you, you are part of me, we are one, I am you, you are me, I am yours, you are mine.

  I groan into your cheek.

  “Forever…”

  Your twin whisper fills my head…

  “Forever…”

  Then we lie together dizzy and silent.

  In a while I know I’ll unstrap you and tie you face down, the soaking pillow under your belly. And I’ll put on our new toy and push it between your lips and into the depths of you, both arms free to hold you.

  But for now we crumple against each other, for now I can feel you twitching very gently as sleep comes over you.

  You open your eyes all of a sudden and look at me, proud queen of my soul.

  “I declare world peace,” you murmur and your eyes close.

  I lie and hold you sleeping.

  My love, you are the ruler of my universe.

  Distraught Truths

  Ashley Bartlett

  I was a little drunk and I stumbled as she pushed me against the wall. Her mouth was on me, hot against my frozen skin. One hand pushed beneath my T-shirt while the other worked open the button on my jeans. Her fingers squeezed my nipple and I groaned, rocking my hips into her. Silently I begged for her to touch me. When she forced her hand down my jeans, my head jerked back and hit the wall. I dimly felt the pain in my head, yet I was too far gone to care. Her fingers slid through the wet heat between my legs. My hands found the flesh beneath her sweater and I pulled her against my body, needing the touch, not caring who she was. Slowly she pushed me closer to the edge. She began to bite my skin, sucking on my neck. I knew it would leave a mark.

  “No. No. Stop that. No marks,” I gasped.

  “Shut up, baby, I know you want it,” she growled.

  I forced my eyes open at the sound of her voice. She was not Finch. The breath escaped my lungs and my stomach tightened. I knew it was coming the moment Finch entered my mind. I felt my body go rigid as I rode the waves of pleasure. My head snapped back again. My fingers curled in the air, seeking someone to hold. I bit my lip and tasted blood. Faintly, I felt her pull away, leaving me gasping against the wall.

  I pulled a cigarette from my back pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. The wall dug into my shoulders as I sagged against it. I buttoned my fly while I glanced around, wondering if anyone was watching. I couldn’t have cared less if they had been. I didn’t care that I never asked her name or that she was cheapened by the fact that I wished it was not her who touched me. She was not the woman I
wanted.

  I pushed through the crowd back to the table. Caitlyn and Sylvia were still huddled by it, watching women pass by openly staring at them. The club was mostly women with a few men scattered about. The occupants were all in tight jeans and skimpy shirts. The long bar spread the entire length of the back wall, the crowds of people lined up to get drinks keeping the three bartenders in constant motion. A DJ and dance floor took up nearly all of the remaining space. Women moved to the beat of the music, all one being. The music was their heart. I could hear it moving them. As I came closer to our table, the crowd pushed me around and I felt a woman press against me.

  “Nice display,” a deep voice said into my ear. I could feel her breath on my neck. Her voice aroused me more than the sex minutes before. I looked back at her. Finch’s distinctive smell flooded my senses; smoke and surprisingly feminine perfume. Her dark green eyes bored into mine, deep and hazy. I saw some emotion pass through them. I told myself it was jealousy.

  She gestured with her chin at her hands. Four cold beers were carefully dangling from her fingers. She shouted, “I’ve got beer. Come on, don’t hold up traffic.” To emphasize her point she thrust her hips into my ass.

  I felt like I was going to melt; her body was fire against mine. I couldn’t tell if she knew how turned on I was. Maybe she thought it was left over from my performance against the wall. Her eyes clouded again.

  I found my voice. “Yeah, yeah.” My attempt at nonchalance came out as a choked whisper. I turned back into the stream of people.

  We managed to regain our seats at the table. Finch passed out the Corona. Taking a deep swig, I resigned myself to getting drunk and hoped the night would end. Hoped that I would stop wanting her. I felt the light fuzziness spread to my limbs. My emotions were almost less harsh, less poignant. I looked at Finch again. She was so beautiful it hurt. Dark shaggy hair fell into her eyes. Her shadowed face seemed like a mask of pain; a recent acquisition. I wanted to know what was making her hurt, I wanted to make it stop.

  Caitlyn broke into my thoughts, “I liked the show.” She made her voice deep. “It was very sexy.”

  Sylvia laughed, adopting the voice. “Yes,” she breathed heavily, “it made me so hot.” She emphasized the last word while leaning down to show off her cleavage.

  “Fuck off,” I shot back. I took a swig of beer.

  Sylvia looked hurt. “Jeez, don’t get so pissy.”

  “Yeah, you’re a bitch when you’re drunk.” Caitlyn scowled. She turned to Sylvia. “Wanna dance?”

  “Yeah, I’d love to.” Playfully she ruffled my hair. “We’ll be back when you’re more human,” she laughed. “You know, not post-orgasmic.”

  I tried to smile but it came out as a grimace. The weekly outings to floating clubs were beginning to drain me. I had been evading my best friend for the last month, but she was starting to get suspicious. Soon Finch would ask point blank why I was avoiding her. I pulled out my cigarettes. Finch leaned close and lit it for me. I handed her one and she accepted it, her long fingers lightly touching mine.

  “You wanna tell me what’s bothering you?” Her voice in my ear made my stomach tighten.

  “Nothing,” I grumbled, “absolutely nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that shit, Tiff.”

  “Oh, would you like to tell me what’s bothering you?” I punctuated my words by poking myself, then her in the chest as I spoke.

  “Don’t do that.” She shook her head at me. “There’s something going on in that head of yours.”

  This time when I looked at her, my eyes begged along with my voice. “Not now, okay?”

  She put an arm around me. It was meant as a comfort, but I was finding it harder and harder to resist her touch. I shuddered. I could feel her stop her motion so I leaned closer, wanting the feel of her. She tightened her grip, slowly rubbing my back. I felt her lips press a kiss into my hair.

  “I want another beer.” I began to get up. As much as I had needed her a moment before, I now needed her to stop. If she didn’t, I would embarrass myself.

  “Don’t worry, I got it.” She abruptly pushed off her seat. I watched her tall, lanky, boyish figure disappear in the direction of the bar.

  When Finch returned she was carrying two bottled waters. “I thought this might be a better idea than beer.” She smiled. “Otherwise we’ll hate ourselves tomorrow.”

  I managed a grin. “I guess you’re right.”

  “You wanna go outside?” She nodded at the door.

  “Sure.”

  She grabbed my hand and led me toward the exit. We walked away from the doors. I realized we were still holding hands only when she let go to sit on the curb. The only company we had was a burned-out streetlight. I looked at our feet in the empty gutter. Our Chuck Taylors were equally scuffed; however, hers were about four sizes bigger. She had a good five inches on me, so she seemed to tower when we walked together. I liked it.

  “You want?” I held out a freshly lit cigarette.

  “Thanks.” She took it from me. This time our fingers did not touch. Finch wrapped her gangly arms around her bare knees, which stuck out of the holes in her threadbare jeans, and rested her head on her arms. Periodically she lifted her lips to take a drag. I raised my hand to touch her, then lost my nerve and lowered it slowly.

  “Tiff?” Her voice came out as a whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Never mind.”

  I put my hand on her bare forearm. The sleeves of the oxford shirt she had on were rolled twice, revealing an expanse of tanned skin. A large band of leather was tied around one wrist and a wide watch covered the other.

  “What?” I probed gently.

  “Really, it’s nothin’.” She pulled at the thin tie around her neck with both hands. The black silk folded and slipped through her fingers. She scratched her neck. The unconscious motion made the shorter, dark hair on the back of her head stand up. I loved when she did that. Her hair would stick out at odd angles when she was nervous. I wondered what was getting at her now; she had been acting weird for a while. I realized I was staring when she looked directly at me. The shadows in her eyes spread, making them deep as fathoms. It gave her that brooding look that made her so fucking sexy. Her mouth was slightly big for her face, and her wide, soft, pink lips were slightly parted.

  “Finch, I...” love you. Yeah, right. I looked away from her, afraid I might embarrass myself. I tried to look really intrigued by the streetlight above us. To stress my point I got up and walked toward the post. It was metal with bits of paper, tape, and filth clinging to it.

  “Why do you do that, Tiff?”

  Confused, I turned around. “Do what?”

  She stood and stared at her shoes. “You know. Hook up with chicks like that.” She seemed nervous. “You deserve better, you know?” She shuffled her feet.

  My mouth was hanging open, so I closed it. “I…I don’t know.” What was I supposed to tell her? I do it because I want to touch you so bad I feel like crawling out of my skin to escape? I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide their trembling. “Why do you care?”

  “’Cuz it seems like all you do is get trashed and screw around and…and it freaks me out.”

  Her words cut into me. Without thinking, I lashed out. “Well, babe, I learned from the best.” I nodded my chin at her. I knew I was being a bitch but I held my ground. She looked like I had slapped her. Her mouth thinned out and turned down at the corners. A muscle twitched in her cheek and her jaw trembled. I thought she might cry.

  My words fell out. “Ah, damn. I’m sorry.” I brushed her hair out of her eyes, so dark they were almost black. “I didn’t mean that. I’m a bitch.”

  “Yeah. You are.” Her voice was cold. She turned and began walking away.

  “No, Finch, wait! Let me explain.”

  She stopped walking. Without turning around she said, “You don’t need to explain to me.”

  “Yeah, I do.” I took a deep b
reath and stepped closer to her. We were only a foot apart, yet she still faced away from me. My voice was a whisper. “I do it to get you outta my head. I can’t stop wanting you. It hurts so bad. I just wanna stop imagining your hands on me, waking up thinking about you.” I stopped talking when her shoulders started shaking. She finally turned around.

  When she raised her tormented eyes to mine my stomach plummeted. Silent tears left small tracks down her cheeks. I had never seen her look so timid and unsure.

  “Tiff, I want to believe that so much. I’ve spent months pining over you.” A small grin crossed her face, lighting her rakishly handsome features. My breath caught in my chest. “You don’t want me”—she gestured at the club, her smile fading—“you make that pretty obvious.” She started walking away again. My heart stopped.

  “Finch.” I grabbed her hand and made her turn around. I brought my lips to hers. In an instant she pressed her body against mine. My head was tilted up, hers bent down protectively over me. I could still feel the fresh tears on her cheeks. An eternity passed before her tongue met mine, so soft. I moaned deep in my throat. She wrenched her lips away. Our bodies still touched.

  “No. Stop.” Her plea came out tinged with pain.

  “Why?” I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I didn’t care. I reached for her again. “I want you so bad. Please.”

  She took a step back so our bodies were no longer in contact where a moment before, her body was liquid heat against mine and I could feel how much she wanted me. Now her posture was stiff, her gaze chilly.

  “You don’t want me.”

  “You’re kidding me! I can’t get you outta my goddamn head, Finch.” My voice cracked when I said her name. I tried to grab her hands but she moved them. “Why not?”

  Her voice was lethal. “Because I just watched some chick fuck you in a bar.” Her eyes never left mine. “Because I watch you leave with a different woman every night and I can’t take watching them screw you.” She stepped closer, still not touching me. A note of tenderness penetrated her anger. “Look at this.” She placed two fingers under my chin and lifted it to show the hickey my earlier companion had left. “Oh honey. Why?”