The Perfect Score 2 Widow's Weeds

by Beth Williamson

  When she drove to Espejo, her goal was to have fun and bowl. She’d been a league bowler for a year, since she’d decided she needed to get off her ass and stop feeling sorry for herself. The tournament seemed like an opportunity to spread her wings and meet new people. She certainly didn’t intend on meeting someone like Veronica. Someone that made her believe in the magic of love and lust again.

  She got up and went back to her room to dress. The bowling lanes were open for tournament practice, and she knew Veronica would be there. Patrice wanted to ask her to dinner.

  A tingle of excitement raced through her, and she ran the last twenty feet to her room. Time to shower and get ready. For what, she wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t matter. The sun shone brightly.

  * * * * *

  Veronica sat at the table behind Marlene’s practice lane, giving encouragement with each ball she threw. The first game, she had a 240, the second a 235. The third game was underway and she already had three strikes, and looked good for the perfect game. There was a big cowboy sitting beside her, cheering Marlene on. He introduced himself as Buck, Marlene’s partner in the mixed tournament. He had a nice smile and seemed like a nice man. He kept his gaze glued to Marlene. Veronica made a mental note to ask Marlene about Buck later.

  A light touch at her shoulder and the smell of Patrice’s perfume notched up her pulse until it fluttered madly. She never expected to be in this unique position, but here she was.

  Ride the wave.

  Veronica looked up to find a smiling Patrice in white top and jeans, accentuating her auburn hair and incredible skin.

  “Hey there.”

  “Hey yourself.” Boy, didn’t she sound like a repetitious fool.

  Patrice sat on the other side of her and slid a Styrofoam cup toward her. “Iced tea.”

  “For me?”

  Patrice raised one eyebrow. “You do like iced tea right?”

  “Well, yes, I do, but --”

  “No buts. I got myself a hot tea, and I figured you might be parched with the way you’ve been running around helping folks out.” Patrice sipped from her own smaller cup.

  In fact, she was thirsty, but she didn’t want to leave Marlene. She looked at the cup and the chunks of ice floating in the amber liquid, then smiled at Patrice.

  “Thanks. I do need a drink.”

  Patrice’s hand closed over hers and a tingle of excitement danced up her arm. “No worries. We’re partners, right?”

  Veronica looked down at their hands then up into Patrice’s beautiful blue eyes. An invitation was there for her, only for her. If she accepted it, she’d certainly be riding the wave. She pushed aside her doubts, and her mother’s voice, and smiled.

  “Yes, we are. Partners.”

  Veronica turned her hand over so they were palm to palm. The moist heat of hers mixed with the cool dryness of Patrice’s. Their fingers laced together and suddenly, they were holding hands. Patrice winked and squeezed her hand.

  Veronica’s body clenched as her slumbering sexuality began to waken. Something was going to happen that night.

  “Will you have dinner with me?”

  Veronica answered without thinking. “Sure. Why don’t we have a drink in the bar and then decide where to go.”

  Another hand squeeze sealed the date. Once Marlene was done with her final game, Veronica excused herself to go to the ladies room to wash up for her date.

  It was a date. No use trying to think of it as anything but a date. She had a date with a woman. A beautiful woman that made her feel special, wanted, and alive. The skip of excitement told her that she was looking forward to it, even if she was a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. She washed her hands, then splashed cold water on her face. As she dried off with paper towels, she tried to focus on one minute at a time. If she tried to imagine the entire evening, the blurry blanks put a twist in her tail that she didn’t need.

  With a deep breath, Veronica left the ladies room and headed for the bar. She waved at Ben, the bartender and looked for Patrice. She found her sitting in the back, in a corner table built for two, sort of behind the jukebox. Her auburn hair glowed pink in the neon. Her legs wobbled a bit but she walked toward her, determined to ride the wave.

  Veronica touched Patrice’s shoulder and sat down.

  “Hi.”

  Patrice smiled. “Hi. You look refreshed.”

  “I just washed up a bit. Felt the smoke and grime on me and had to get clean.”

  Patrice played with the swizzle stick in her drink. “Would you like something?”

  “No, thanks. I’m not much of a drinker.”

  The excitement was there, but everything felt all wrong. Stilted and unnatural. Veronica felt a moment of panic that she’d read Patrice wrong.

  “Dinner right? What are you in the mood for?” Her voice was a little shrill and more high pitched than usual.

  Patrice leaned forward and placed the tips of two fingers on Veronica’s lips. They felt hot, like branding irons.

  “You.”

  Veronica tried to swallow, but her throat had closed up. Patrice cupped her cheek and leaned forward. She saw her coming toward her in slow motion so she closed her eyes and waited. Patrice’s lips softly touched hers in a light kiss once, twice. Her pussy twitched and her nipples pebbled.

  Veronica let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes. Patrice sat back in her chair, with dilated pupils. She licked her lips as if she tasted Veronica. The charged moment would either make or break them. Veronica reached up to touch her lips, which still tingled from the brief contact.

  Patrice watched Veronica’s hand then her gaze slid to her breasts. Good thing the black blouse was hard to see in the low light of the bar, otherwise, her excitement would be more than obvious.

  “Ronnie?”

  Veronica reached out and touched Patrice’s lips, which curved into a grin.

  “You ready for dinner?”

  “I don’t think I could eat anything.”

  Patrice laughed huskily. “I know what you mean. How about we go to a club instead? We can dance, and nosh on vittles there.”

  “I think that sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

  Patrice stood and waited for Veronica. She slowly rose and stepped toward Patrice, their body heat mingling like waves on a summer day. She felt the pull between them and wanted more. Veronica laced her hand with Patrice, earning her a smile.

  As they walked out of the bar together, no one commented on the two women holding hands, although Veronica noticed a few raised eyebrows. She ignored them with a force of will. They exited the Starlite and Patrice pulled her toward her car.

  “Is it okay if I drive tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  Veronica climbed into the Toyota and buckled her seat belt. Patrice did the same, then put the keys into the ignition.

  “I know you’re not normally attracted to women, Ronnie. I want to make sure you know what’s going on.”

  Veronica swallowed. “Yes, I do. And you’re right, I’ve never been ... with a woman before, but I know exactly what’s going on.”

  Before she could talk herself out of it, Veronica leaned over and kissed Patrice. Once started, it was hard to stop. Like eating a pie made of whipped cream and chocolate. She was delicious. Veronica leaned her forehead against Patrice’s and tried to catch her breath.

  “Well, hell, I guess you do.”

  “Yahoo, girls! Go for it! You wanna partner?” Two cowboys were walking past the car and hooting and hollering. Veronica felt her cheeks heat even more.

  They both laughed then Patrice kissed her lightly and her tongue swiped Veronica’s lip as she pulled away. The bellow of arousal beat in her chest.

  “Ready?”

  Veronica smiled. “Ready.”

  Chapter Four

  The Deuce was a popular bar in Espejo. It was really the only clean bar in town. The others attracted crowds of illegals, bikers, or slimy businessmen. The Deuce was a bar you could feel comfortab
le in no matter who you were. Kind of like that bar in Toby Keith’s song.

  It was still early on Friday, so the crowd was light, which suited Veronica just fine. Not that she had anything to hide, but tonight was so different, she didn’t want an audience. The slow beat of Faith Hill’s new single reverberated through the bar; a few couples were dancing by the jukebox. Three tables had various people at them, and four at the bar.

  Veronica took a deep breath and walked toward the table nearest the corner. She didn’t want anyone sneaking up on them. A bit ashamed of her behavior, she smiled sheepishly at Patrice.

  “It’s okay. I understand. A small town is a small town.”

  They sat down and ordered drinks. Patrice wanted a rusty nail, and Veronica ordered a light beer. She wasn’t used to drinking and didn’t want to do anything stupid if she got drunk.

  After they got their drinks, Patrice shocked the hell out of her by asking about Orin.

  “Can you tell me about your husband?”

  “W-what?”

  “If you don’t want to, I understand, but,” she shrugged. “I figured I want to know if there are any ghosts in your bedroom.”

  Bedroom.

  The mere thought of Patrice in her bedroom was titillating and scary at the same time.

  “Um, sure. I can talk about Orin.”

  Veronica felt herself relaxing as she told stories of her husband, his funny side, his stubborn side, and his romantic side. Patrice asked questions and laughed along with her. The tension in her shoulders disappeared as she drank her beer and talked. Just talked. Most folks didn’t want to talk about the dead after they were gone. In fact, it was like a taboo subject for some reason. Veronica felt a lot of bottled up thoughts bubbling to the surface, and after voicing them, felt cleansed. She felt less guilty about being with someone romantically other than Orin.

  “How did you know?”

  Patrice sipped her second drink. “Know what?”

  “That I needed to talk about him.”

  Patrice shrugged one slender shoulder. “I know what it’s like to grieve.”

  Veronica could see deep in her blue eyes that grief was definitely not a stranger. She reached over and squeezed Patrice’s hand.

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  It felt good to listen as Patrice talked about her last relationship, how it ended badly, and how heartbroken and lost she’d felt. Veronica knew that helplessness well. It was funny how a relationship between a man and a woman, and a woman and a woman could have the same depth of emotions. She hadn’t realized, actually had never thought about it. Human beings were the same deep down inside.

  “I’m glad you decided to bowl in the tournament.”

  Patrice smiled and Veronica’s arousal reawakened. “Me too.”

  Just then, Keith Anderson’s song “Picking Wildflowers” started playing. It was one of Veronica’s favorites.

  “Let’s dance.” She couldn’t believe she’d suggested it, but this was such a sexy song. She danced to it by herself at home all the time.

  Patrice nodded and they walked the ten feet to the dance floor, decidedly thin with only a few couples shaking their bootys. Patrice was an excellent dancer and moved in unison to the song. Veronica lost herself in swaying back and forth, watching the sensual dance of Patrice’s small breasts and hips. She wanted to touch her. She wanted to kiss her. Hell, she wanted her period.

  The song was about escaping to “pick wildflowers,” which really meant going off to get naked and sweaty. As Veronica danced closer and closer to Patrice, her body heated to near boiling. Their pussies came close to touching, and then brushed lightly. Electric sparks buzzed through Veronica. She stepped even closer, throwing one arm around Patrice’s back until they were rubbing up against each other. Their breasts and pussies slowly swayed back and forth. Hardened nipples and moist heat mingled to scent the air between them like a natural perfume.

  When the song ended, they were both out of breath, but hadn’t really danced too hard. It was the arousal, hard and pumping. Veronica’s blood rushed madly through her as she let loose the woman inside her who had been hiding in her shell for five years.

  In front of God and the entire bar, Veronica grabbed Patrice and kissed her. Their tongues introduced themselves and slowly danced together, sliding and licking, tasting and testing. The sound of clapping dragged her back from the edge of no reason. She opened her eyes and let Patrice go with a huge grin on her face.

  “Ronnie, you are more than I expected.”

  With no apologies to anyone, Veronica smiled then curtseyed to the clapping folks around the bar. She looked at Patrice and took her hand.

  “Let’s go to my house. I don’t want an audience for the rest of this.”

  * * * * *

  “Nice house. I like the chairs on the front porch.”

  “Thanks. They’re Adirondack style from New York.” Veronica’s voice was a bit shaky.

  Patrice didn’t know if she’d simply back out now or go through with it. Patrice couldn’t believe how incredibly turned on she was by her whitebread Ronnie, the little blackbird who wanted to fly but had forgotten how.

  “Your flowers are beautiful, too.”

  She was trying to put her at ease as they pulled into the driveway, but it wasn’t working. Veronica was as jumpy as an ant on a hot rock, twisting her hands together in her lap. Patrice put her hand on Veronica’s and squeezed lightly.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  Veronica took a deep breath, then let it out. “You’re right. I don’t have to, but I want to.” She turned to look at Patrice and noticed the arousal simmering in Patrice’s soft brown eyes.

  “Good. So do I.” Patrice leaned forward and lightly kissed her on the lips, earning a small moan.

  “Let’s go inside.”

  Patrice agreed wholeheartedly. Five more minutes and her panties wouldn’t be damp, they’d be soaked. They climbed out of the car and walked through the warm spring air to the front door. Veronica fumbled in her purse for the keys, but finally pulled them out. Patrice waited patiently, trying not to show her urgency, but it was there, hovering beneath the surface. She wanted Veronica. Badly.

  When they finally got in the house, Veronica didn’t turn the light on. The moonlight shone through the front windows, turning the room into a silver palace. Veronica set her purse and keys down on the table beside the door and then slipped her shoes off, which went on a mat beside the door. Patrice mimicked her movements and left her things beside Veronica’s.

  It was quiet in the house except for the hum of a refrigerator somewhere, and the frantic beating of her heart. A heart that hadn’t beat for some time, until the last two days, since Ronnie had landed in her life. Patrice knew it was up to her tonight, to make this special for her new friend, to bring her with her along the journey of discovery. It was her first time, in essence, a virgin. Patrice understood the magnitude of her role and prayed for the strength to go slowly, to savor what would happen.

  Patrice took Ronnie’s hand and laced their fingers together. She must have understood, because she started walking through the house. They walked through a moonlit hallway until they reached a darkened room. Ronnie let go of her hand and walked into the velvet blackness. In a moment, curtains opened and the silver moonlight joined them once again.

  Patrice walked over to her and touched her cheek. Her thumb trailed across Ronnie’s soft lips and she shivered. Patrice stepped closer and kissed her. Slowly and deliberately, she teased and nibbled at her lips, licking lightly until Ronnie’s breathing grew rapid. Only then did she close the distance between them and wrap her arms around her, pressing their bodies together. The heat between them rose ten degrees as the kiss deepened. On and on they kissed, learning each other’s mouths, teeth, and tongues.

  Patrice’s hands roamed up and down Veronica’s curves, feeling the dimple on her behind and the hardened bud of her nipple, weighing the feel of her breast. All enticing and arousing
as all hell.

  She broke the kiss and let Ronnie catch her breath, then started pulling off the black clothes one by one. She wasn’t surprised to find that Ronnie wore black underwear, too. There wasn’t anything on her that wasn’t black, except for her incredible nipples that stood straight and proud in the moonlight. She wasn’t sure of the color, but they looked to be dark, like raspberries.

  Her mouth watered to taste them. She reached out and cupped the ample breasts, weighing them, loving the softness in her hands. She bent down and pulled one nipple into her mouth and felt a shudder course through Ronnie’s body.

  “Sweet.” Patrice whispered. She let the nipple go, then suckled the other until they were both standing proudly, begging for more. She backed Ronnie toward the bed. When her knees hit the mattress, she sat down and Patrice kneeled in front of her on the floor.

  “I’m going to go slowly, but you can say stop anytime, okay?”

  Ronnie nodded, her brown eyes luminous in the moonlight. Patrice was hanging onto her control by a thin thread, aching to touch her new partner. She ran her hands down her smooth shoulders and arms, then down her legs. After she reached her ankles, she started kissing her way up. Alternately kissing, nibbling, and licking her legs until she reached Ronnie’s hips. By then, she was shaking, and Patrice stopped to let her gain control.

  “Lay back.”

  Ronnie did as she was bade; then Patrice spread her legs, inhaling the musky scent of arousal. A throbbing between her own legs reminded her of how much she truly wanted this woman.

  Patrice leaned forward and nuzzled her pussy, the soft hair lightly tickling her nose and cheeks. She used her thumbs to spread her lips then blew on the heated skin.

  “Oh!”

  Patrice smiled and licked her from top to bottom, one long, wide lick that coated her tongue with juices. Ronnie moaned and Patrice was pleased to see her tweaking and pinching her own nipples.

  She nibbled on Ronnie’s clit while her fingers and thumb started their own rhythm, sliding in and out of her wetness slowly. Patrice’s hand crept down to start stroking her own clit. As she picked up speed, she sucked on Ronnie’s clit, swirling it with her tongue and bringing it to a throbbing peak. Ronnie tightened around her fingers and Patrice knew she was close. She added another finger to the mix and sucked on her clit hard until the rush of sweetness and the clenched muscles subsided. Her own orgasm followed closely behind.