by Julie Cannon
Sitting in the second row of seats in the van, her bags and bike stacked neatly in the rear, Caroline dodged Jacque’s attempt to make conversation. Finally, he got the message she wasn’t interested in him or his chatter and he turned his focus on the road in front of them. As he drove, she didn’t even pretend to observe the passing countryside on her way to Brodale, a tourist destination well known for its downhill skiing in the winter and for being the host of the first race in the mountain bike championship series. Caroline let her mind drift to Shannon.
They would run into each other again sometime during this race. They had to. They were competing in the same event, would attend some of the same sponsor events and mingle with the same people. Shit, she thought, there was a good chance they’d be standing next to each other in first and second place on the winner’s stand.
The last time they were together was in Boulder for the U.S. Downhill Championships. They had managed to avoid each other most of the three days of the event, but occasionally their paths crossed. They were polite and civil, exchanging a few inconsequential words, but nothing of real importance. The last time they had said anything even remotely meaningful was that day more than ten years ago.
*
Shannon tipped the bellman and dropped her backpack on the bed. She needed to unpack, shower, eat, and blow off some of her nervous energy, but not necessarily in that order. She glanced around the spacious room and didn’t think twice about the size, the amenities, or the sheer luxury of the suite. She always traveled first class whether for her own personal pleasure or because her endorsement contract stipulated it. She had more money than most. At twenty-two, she’d inherited a large chunk of money from a trust fund set up by her great-aunt and it was doubled when she hit twenty-five. In two years when she reached thirty, it would double again.
Great-Aunt Martha had been a lesbian long before it was okay to be out. Everyone in the family thought she was simply a spinster schoolteacher, but one look at her pictures and Shannon knew otherwise. She barely remembered the woman; she’d died when Shannon was eight, but according to her mother, Great-Aunt Martha had spent several summers with them when Shannon was small. She must have been able to tell that Shannon was going to be a lesbian even at her young age. Why else would she leave millions of dollars to a great-niece she barely knew?
Shannon stripped, left her clothes where they fell, and stepped into the shower. Her intent was to wash off the travel grime, slip into something that said “I’m showing you mine, now you show me yours,” and go out on the town after the sponsors’ meet and mingle tonight. She had been keyed up about this race more than usual and she knew why. “Caroline.”
The name slipped off her tongue and into the steam with very little effort, but the effect caught Shannon by surprise. Her breath stuck in her throat, her nipples tightened under the bar of soap, and the point between her legs began to throb insistently.
She would see Caroline sometime in the next week and the thought never ceased to arouse her. She closed her eyes remembering. The feel of her touch, the softness of her lips, the smooth skin in that special place where her thighs joined the rest of her body. And that voice. The sound of her own name drifting off Caroline’s lips at that moment when they were one was the sound music tried to imitate.
The memory evoked long dormant emotions, and Shannon’s hands floated over her body as she fantasized about the time they had sex in the shower. It was the summer between their junior and senior year. They both had stayed at Mount Holyfield after most of the girls had gone home for the ten-week break. Shannon’s parents were touring Europe, and Caroline was doubling up on courses hoping it would ensure her acceptance at Columbia.
Shannon entered the locker room after finishing a grueling tennis match against the local pro. She hadn’t beat him, but she had come damn near close this time. If that gorgeous woman in the tight shorts hadn’t walked by when she had, she would have caught up to his drop shot. Instead, she was left flat-footed with her mouth practically hanging open and he had won the set and the match.
Sweat droplets dripped off her hair and her clothes were plastered against her body as she approached the locker. The humidity in Connecticut was brutal this time of the year and every inch of her was wet. Unlocking the small door, she heard a sound to her left and after drying off her face with her towel, turned to see a gorgeous girl standing not fifteen feet from her. When she looked again Shannon realized that the girl was actually one of her classmates.
Caroline Davis was in several of her classes and they had exchanged a few words now and then and were lab partners for a semester. They were both involved in mountain bike racing and had raced against each other for the past year, but were on different teams. Shannon was in heaven, getting the opportunity to stand close to the hottest girl in school, but Caroline always backed off when Shannon tried to become more than simply friendly. Lesbianism was taboo at the all-girls school, but those that were knew those that were and sex happened in their rooms, closets, empty classrooms, and any other place two young, horny teenagers could find. It was in the deserted locker room when Shannon made her move.
They had danced around their attraction with words and sly looks until Shannon finally took control. Caroline was wrapped in a towel and headed to the showers unaware that Shannon was on her heels. When she stepped inside the private enclosure, Shannon followed.
Caroline’s eyes went wide with surprise then turned dark, something Shannon came to recognize as desire. When she reached behind her back to lock the thin metal door, Caroline reached for her. As if it had been choreographed, they came together with lips, hands, fingers, and heat. Shannon spun around, pinning Caroline against the door with her body. Breasts slid against breasts, thighs scissored together, and Shannon could not get enough of the girl who had been the object of her dreams and the source of her frustration for months.
Caroline’s body was every bit as soft and firm as she had imagined. Her curves were curvy, her muscles hard and defined, and those special womanly places warm and silky. Caroline grabbed her head and pulled her closer when Shannon’s mouth circled one nipple, then the other. She licked and sucked and ravaged the flesh with passion she never knew she had. She almost came when Caroline said her name.
The banging of a door reminded Shannon that they were not alone and she dragged her mouth off the luscious, full breasts. Quickly turning on the water to drown the sounds of their adventure, she pulled them both into the warm water. Caroline was shorter than she was by about four inches, and when she wrapped her arms around Shannon’s neck and rose up on her toes, Shannon grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her. Caroline got the message and locked her legs around her waist. Shannon bent her knees slightly to support them both.
Shannon’s hand slid down Caroline’s ass and one finger slid easily into her. Caroline took control of her own pleasure and Shannon remembered holding on for the ride. Grinding her crotch into Shannon’s stomach, Caroline’s breasts were inches from Shannon’s mouth and she was not going to let that opportunity go by. Alternately sucking and biting each nipple and sliding her finger in and out of her pussy in tempo to Caroline’s thrusting, it wasn’t long before she felt Caroline stiffen, freeze for just an instant, then climax.
Wave after wave of pleasure rocked through Caroline and Shannon felt every spasm. They were sharing the same experience as if they were one. Shannon’s legs gave out long before Caroline stopped gasping for breath. As much as she didn’t want to, Shannon had to let her down. Caroline’s soft legs slid down hers until her feet were on the ground, her still pulsing clitoris pressed against Shannon’s thigh.
The laws of physics and lesbianism were such that Caroline’s position put Shannon’s clitoris in direct contact with what she needed to release the pressure inside her that was ready to explode. Caroline must have sensed her hardness because she quickly became the aggressor giving Shannon as much as she got.
Caroline’s mouth was on her neck, her lips, her
breasts, and Shannon didn’t know whether to breathe or die. The steam from the water enveloped them like a warm mist. Caroline’s hands roamed her body, often replaced with her lips and teeth as she navigated her way south. Shannon shuddered at the loss of contact against her clit, but when she realized Caroline’s destination, thrust her hips to meet her.
Shannon let her head drop back, savoring the sensation of Caroline’s mouth between her legs. Caroline’s tongue flicked over her clit and Shannon grabbed her hair to keep her there. Faster and faster Caroline flicked, sucked, and licked driving Shannon out of her mind. Her orgasm started soft like the water cascading over her face but climaxed like Niagara Falls, rushing over the edge. She didn’t know if she screamed, whispered, or was completely quiet and really didn’t care. If anyone heard her she would be happy to accept the consequences.
The sound of her own voice echoing off the marble walls in the shower of Room 454 in the Chateau Brodale brought Shannon back to the present. Her body felt as it had that time long ago. Her breathing was rapid, her pulse racing, legs weak, head spinning. She pulled her fingers from between her legs and collapsed on the seat at the end of the enclosure. Catching her breath, Shannon realized what was missing. Her body was satisfied and full, but because she was alone in the shower, she was empty.
*
The van pulled into the winding drive of the Gite Sur la Bonne Piste, a quaint bed and breakfast located at the base of Mount Brome, or Mont Bro as the locals called it. The house was typical Canadian style with a wide front porch, large windows framing either side of the massive oak front door, and three dormer windows peeking out from the high-pitched roof. The drive was crushed granite and crunched under Caroline’s shoes as she walked to the back of the van to retrieve her bike case.
Rarely did she let anyone carry her bike, preferring to handle the oversize hard case that contained her livelihood herself. The case was fairly easy to maneuver despite its awkwardness, but she depended on its contents that could not easily be replaced. Caroline extended the handle on the black carrier and pulled it behind her up the narrow walkway.
The sign on the front door read Come In in bold cursive burned into a wooden plank. It felt odd not to knock upon entering a house that was not her own, but she reminded herself this was a B&B as she moved into the large front room.
The room was decorated in rustic style with antiques, handcrafts, and paintings giving the room, a cozy, lived-in feel. She had her choice of staying at one of the local hotels but preferred the privacy of the B&B to the noise and commotion she knew would exist in the hotels hosting the other riders.
A stand in one corner of the foyer was filled with colorful umbrellas while a coat rack was mounted on the wall to her left. The hardwood floors gleamed up at her while the thick wool runner muffled her footsteps.
“I’ll be right there,” a strong female voice said from the room to her right, and Caroline set her bike case directly under a picture of a snow-covered mountain. As corny as it seemed, the house smelled like fresh-baked cookies.
“Hello, you must be Caroline. I’m Beatrice. Welcome to the cottage,” the woman said practically in one breath.
“Yes, I am, thank you.” Caroline took the hand offered to her.
“Well, come with me and we’ll get you checked in and settled in no time. Just leave your stuff by the door. Michael will bring it up to your room promptly. You’re one of the riders?” Beatrice nodded toward the large case.
“Yes, I am.” Caroline repeated her earlier answer. “You have a lovely place here.” She followed Beatrice across the room. The craftsmanship of the woodwork was evident in the crown molding at the ceiling and on the winding staircase that led to what she assumed were the rooms upstairs.
“Thank you. Michael and I had been thinking of turning the house into a B-and-B for years and in 2002 we took the plunge. It’s our dream come true, you might say.”
Caroline could hardly imagine transforming your personal home into a type of rooming house where you have to make breakfast for everyone every day, make sure the bathrooms were clean all the time, and where strangers roamed through your house of their own free will as a dream come true, as Beatrice phrased it. To her, it sounded like a pain in the ass that could very easily turn into a nightmare.
Within ten minutes she was in her room, her luggage at the foot of the bed, her bike case against the wall by the closet. Shaking off the memories of Shannon that had dogged her for the past few days, Caroline unpacked, put her clothes neatly into the tall dresser in the corner, and the contents of her backpack on the small desk. She inspected her safety gear for any damage that might have occurred in transit. She brought with her one helmet, one chest guard, two pairs of shoes, a pair of elbow and knee pads, and assorted bike shorts, shirts, and socks. If she damaged or lost anything else, she could replace it from any one of the numerous vendor stands that would fill the expo area at each event.
Reaching for her iPod, her attention was drawn to a magazine lying neatly at the right hand corner of the desk. It was the program for the race, and Caroline’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized the image that adorned the cover. She didn’t need to read the caption that identified the rider as Shannon Roberts—Babe of Brodale. She was soaring over a jump with at least five feet of air between her tires and the rocky ground beneath. Her face was set in concentration, legs bent at the knees, elbows flexed, riding high in the saddle as she accelerated into the jump.
Caroline couldn’t help herself and she opened the first page of the magazine. There would be more pictures of Shannon inside and she wasn’t disappointed to see her on the second and fifth page as well. But it was the back cover that made her knees weak and the glossy pages shake in her hands. Shannon was standing in front of her bike, feet crossed at the ankles, arms across her chest. Her mouth was formed into an almost smirk but had just enough smile to be beguiling.
Her bike shorts fit her like a second skin, slim hips with strong, muscular thighs jutting out below them. Caroline knew those calves were rock solid; at least they were years ago, and they looked like they had only gotten firmer. Her fingers tingled as she remembered how smooth the skin was and how the hard muscle quivered under her touch. Mussed blond hair reminded her of how it looked after she ran her hands through it. Or grabbed it to hold Shannon’s head and mouth tight to her.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she exclaimed louder with each word. She had allowed Shannon to get to her again. And this time it was a simple set of pictures. What would it be like when she saw her in the flesh? Something told her it wouldn’t be long before she would find out.
Chapter Five
Caroline tossed the magazine on the bed and ducked into the shower—a cold shower. She knew Shannon would be featured in any material advertising the race. Not only was she one of the best downhill racers in the world, she was the media darling of the circuit. The cameras loved her, she always had a quip for the reporters, and she made absolutely no secret that she preferred to spend her off hours with the female groupies versus the male. Shannon Roberts was the draw at every event.
The fact that Shannon received all the attention didn’t bother Caroline. In fact, she was glad it wasn’t her. Where Shannon’s talent came naturally, Caroline had to work hard for everything she had. She needed to focus before each race, preferring a few hours of solitude to the massive throngs of fans clambering for her autograph. She had a reputation for being aloof in the days leading up to the race but relaxed and approachable after.
She dressed for the sponsor’s event, grabbed her room key, and headed down the stairs. There were several people sitting in the living room that Caroline assumed were other guests, and she nodded as she passed by on her way to the front door. The reception was being held about a mile away and the walk would do her good.
As she approached the event hall the sounds of music, loud voices, and clinking glasses drifted through the clear evening sky. It was cool but not so much that she needed a jacket, the lon
g sleeves of her shirt providing enough warmth. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing pulse, Caroline stepped inside.
Shannon was talking to another rider and she glanced up just as Caroline entered the room. Everyone in the room must have stopped talking at once because the only thing Shannon heard was the thudding of her heart. My God, she’s just as hot as ever, she thought as Caroline hesitated just inside. She watched Caroline glance around the room as if looking for a familiar face to run to. Shannon knew what Caroline’s reaction had been every time she saw her. She would turn and leave the room. But Shannon wasn’t ready to stop looking at the woman who played her body like a classical guitar those many years ago, so she excused herself and found a more secluded position for her observations.
Caroline was dressed in a knee-length khaki skirt and sandals. From experience, Shannon knew that Caroline’s pale blue shirt would bring out the color of her eyes. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, and other than a pair of earrings that sparkled in the bright lights, a big, clunky sport watch was the only other jewelry she wore.
Snagging another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, Shannon watched Caroline work her way around the room. She stopped and chatted with sponsors, the media, and other riders. An unfamiliar jolt of jealousy jabbed in her gut when two of the riders made a play for her. Caroline appeared to humor them, and after a few moments slid out of their circle and walked in the direction of the patio. Shannon followed.
The sound dimmed when Shannon closed the door behind her. Caroline turned. Her face was an expression of curiosity, shock, desire, and hurt, one right after the other. Shannon couldn’t take her eyes off her. She hadn’t been this alone with her in years, and it was as if it were only this afternoon that they had been this close. Caroline looked like she was going to flee, so Shannon spoke.
