LipstickLeslee

by Titania Leslee

  Just being with a woman sexually was surreal enough for me, but there was no describing the phenomenon of being physically and emotionally connected to a female in this way. Give and take all at once, please and be pleased, every orifice explored in some way. It was a never-ending circle that made me so giddy I went wild on her. My arm tightened around her waist. I clamped her head between my thighs and moved my hips in a dance similar to the one I’d done on stage, forcing her to ass-fuck and pussy-fuck me deeper and wilder. She mimicked my hip moves and we clung to each other, rocking and licking ravenously, getting a rhythm going where we sang together with muffled groans.

  For me, the orgasm was right there, gearing up for its final eruption. For Leslee, I knew it had already started to barrel over her by the stiffening of her body and her groans evolving into muted screams. I let her ride the drug of it then removed my fingers from her holes and concentrated on stimulating her clit more. Knowing I’d caused her this joy, coupled with her thrashing frenzy, pushed me over the edge of insanity. The current of ecstasy gripped me with such power I had one fleeting moment of worry that my body or brain couldn’t take all the synapses firing, that I would pass out in the middle of the bliss. My body twitched. I made some odd noise of a whimper combined with a shriek, like an animal begging for more attention.

  Leslee’s legs relaxed—she must be down from her high now. Her fingers slid out of me and she flicked her tongue in one final dance over my clit. My orgasm reached its pinnacle, held for a long moment of level madness then fell off in a gradual decline.

  My heart was pounding so hard I could feel my pulse beating in my throat. I could barely breathe yet her woman’s scent surrounded me, and her flavor clung to my tongue like potent whiskey.

  We lay that way for a good five minutes, cuddling each other, cooing, massaging and kissing inner thighs, asses. Somewhere off in the distance near the kitchen area of the open room, a cell phone rang.

  “Shit, sorry,” Leslee said, and untangled herself from my limbs. “I need to get that. I’m expecting an important call.”

  I fielded a stab of disappointment and vague gloom washed over me when she moved away. I pulled the blanket over me and curled into a ball while she climbed from the bed. All I wanted to do was sleep now. I didn’t want to think about what had just happened. While the excitement of it was still raw, an unexpected stab of shame and confusion gripped me. I burrowed deeper into the covers to ward off the room’s sudden chill that rushed over my perspiring body.

  I heard Leslee answer the phone with an annoyed bark. “Hello.” She paused. “Oh, hey, what’s going—What?”

  Drowsiness, the need to forget what I’d just done and the urge to hide from the world, slithered over me like a dark fog.

  I couldn’t relax. Something nagged at me.

  Cell phone, cell phone¼

  I sat up ramrod straight and gasped. “Tom.” Oh my god, I’d forgotten about my date with Tom. How could I have done that? I’d left my cell phone in my car thinking I’d be in the bar talking to Leslee for just a few minutes, but that was no excuse.

  I flipped the covers off and leaped from the bed.

  Leslee stood naked—crap, why’d she have to look so yummy?—with the phone to her ear. Her jaw hung open. Her gaze was stuck to me like glue. A mixture of emotions flitted across her face, astonishment, anger, jealousy. But I didn’t have time to delve into what her problem was at the moment. I had my own problems. I had to get to my car and my phone and give Tom a call.

  She continued to watch me as I snatched up my clothes near the window and Christmas tree. My face warmed. The random piles of clothes and stilettoes reminded me it was where she’d ravished and royally fucked me with that strap-on toy like no man had ever fucked me before.

  She punched a button on her phone and tossed it on the countertop. It made a clack that caused me to jump and gasp. She ignored it and me and said, “Take a wild guess who that was and what it was about.”

  “I¼I don’t know.” I pulled the black dress over my head and settled it into place.

  Leslee’s gaze followed my every move like a torch. “Where are you going?”

  “Do you always ask so many questions at once and not allow time for the person to answer?” I was starting to feel the annoyance, more at myself than her. I was an idiot. A selfish bitch who’d forgotten a decent man and stood him up to satisfy my stupid curiosities.

  God, I yearned to crawl into a big fucking hole and just die.

  She pursed her lips and folded her arms over her midriff. It forced her ample breasts upward, making it impossible for me to look anywhere but at the pert nipples. Heat ignited in my pussy. I groaned inwardly, clamped my legs together and located my heels, wondering how I was going to walk in them when my legs felt like Jell-O and the motion would probably stimulate my simmering cunt and dial up my libido again.

  No please, not again. You have to get the hell out of here and go find Tom.

  Leslee leaned against the stove, naked, leisurely. I had to admit she looked very sexy with shadows from the fireplace dancing over her toned muscles and emphasizing her fitness.

  But I would never tell her so.

  “Well, I’ll answer them all at once then,” Leslee replied. “It was Kaydee.”

  My head came up. I hopped on one foot while I attempted to slip on the other damn high heel. Why the fuck did I always wear these stupid things? And on a night when snow had been forecast. “Kaydee?”

  She nodded and sauntered toward me, her bare feet padding on wood. “Yep. She was worried. She said she’s been trying to call you for a couple of hours. And she also told me that the reason was some guy named Tom—who she labeled as your date for tonight—had been frantically calling her because he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

  I located my G-string and did another dance, trying to put it on. Should’ve put the damn thing on before the shoes. I gripped the windowsill where she’d fucked me against the cold panes. I shivered and spat, “So? What’s your point?”

  “You had a date tonight? With a man?” She threw her arms out as if she had a last-minute wave of despair and rage wash over her.

  “I already told you earlier that I had a date. And yes, with a man, what else? I am after all a heterosexual woman, ya know. I was on my way to the restaurant to meet him when you called me about the stupid contest.” I found my coat over by the door and slid my arms into it. I couldn’t get it wrapped tight enough around me. I wanted her to quit looking at me as if she could see through my clothes, yet something about it turned me on and dialed up my ego a notch at the same time.

  Idiot. Will you ever learn to not be so selfish and narcissistic?

  Her gaze finally drifted to the windows. She nodded. “Ah. I see. Right. A date with a man, and you’re hetero.” She stared out at the falling snow and didn’t look at me again.

  I moved to the door, the clip of my heels echoing in the big room. I didn’t know how it was that that look on her face seemed to spear my heart, while at the same time her sarcasm, especially with the twist of the word “hetero”, made me seethe, but it did.

  Oh, how it did.

  My hand shook while I gripped the doorknob. I kept my back to her and said what I had to say to get myself out of this embarrassing, ridiculous mess. “Look, Leslee, this was wrong—let’s just cut our losses, and once we get to work, we’ll just pretend it never happened. Maybe steer clear of one another.”

  “Sure. Whatever you want, Melanie. Whatever you want.”

  I yanked open the door, stopped on the threshold. “Goodbye. I’ll see you at work tomorrow morning.”

  “Ta-ta, Mel. See ya bright and early at the hotel.” Leslee’s voice held a tone of barely contained rage, as if any moment she’d explode.

  But I stepped out onto the private landing of her rear entrance and pulled the door shut behind me. There, that would stop her from spewing any objections to the fact that I was a heterosexual woman who’d missed a date with a man.

&nbs
p; So I could be in a silly contest and have mind-blowing sex with a lesbian.

  Oh. My. Lord. What had I done?

  I dug my keys out of my bag and tromped down the stairs and out into the parking lot. I ignored the wet snow as it caked around my ankles, unlocked my car and climbed in. As I fiddled with the wipers and heat knobs, my gaze rose to the outside rearview mirror reflecting the long line of windows that spanned her loft apartment.

  I gasped. “One-way windows, my ass.” Outlined by my mirror, Leslee stood there topless, her arms folded over her breasts and mostly concealing them, staring out across the parking lot. She didn’t look my way. Instead, she spun around and disappeared from sight.

  I bit my fist. That incessant tingling started in my cunt again. She’d looked hot, delicious and I could just imagine another woman shoving her against that window.

  I wadded my dress over my jittery belly. No, I refused to allow the jealousy in, especially with it being a hypothetical woman making love to the woman I’d just gotten the best sex from in my entire life.

  I had to focus elsewhere. I snatched up my cell phone off the passenger’s seat where I’d tossed it hours ago, and scanned the screen. “Oh, Tom, Tom, Tom.” He’d called nineteen times, left six voice messages and texted me a dozen times. “Holy holly, I’m such a fuck-up. Not to mention a shameful slut.”

  The tires squalled on slushy pavement as I gripped the gearshift in my right hand and backed out of the parking spot.

  I had to find Tom and explain—no, lie. Yes, I’d just have to come up with some lame excuse. He’d never know I’d been with another woman. No one would ever know. With that admonition, and ignoring the fact that Kaydee probably knew, I raced my car through the snowy streets toward the restaurant and prayed it would still be open.

  And that Tom would still be there.

  Chapter Six

  Leslee: Lovesick

  I kept walking away from the window and pacing back. I now stood there naked, my nipples still hard and inflamed, and watched her tramp through the snowy parking lot and climb into her car. Had I really just lost my close friend, my best lover ever and my highly competent assistant all in one fell swoop over a few hours’ span of time? I rubbed the ache in my chest with the heel of my hand. My eyes stung and my pussy throbbed for those surprisingly talented fingers of hers, which now fiddled with dashboard knobs. Her beautiful face was framed by the driver’s side mirror of her car. I gasped when she turned her head and glanced up at me over her shoulder. I detected an expression of pain just like I was feeling, but she was too far away so I wasn’t certain.

  Could it be¼?

  I moved away, came back to the window.

  Is she just as upset and lovesick as I am?

  I used my fist to buff away the growing fog on the window and leaned closer, planting my hands on the windowsill in the very spot where I’d fucked her scrumptious pussy and given her her first orgasm during lovemaking. I narrowed my gaze but she wasn’t looking my way anymore, so I threw open the window. A blast of chilly air rushed in and engulfed me, cooling my exposed, perspiring flesh, yet I barely noticed. Instead, I watched her. She pecked and swiped across her phone screen before her reverse lights came on and she backed up, making fresh tracks in the snow. A mist of white spewed out behind the vehicle when she spun out and headed toward the exit.

  In the last second before she turned out of the parking lot, she glanced up. Our gazes met and I could swear my heart stopped. There were tears in her eyes. Angry tears. Her expression could be described as nothing other than a glare of near-hatred.

  Then she was gone, fishtailing out onto the street and nearly losing control of the car.

  I slammed the window shut and shivered. “Crazy woman,” I muttered even as my gaze drifted over to the rumpled bed and I replayed our lovemaking in my mind. I crossed to my closet, yanked my robe off the hanger and donned it in jerky motions.

  Maybe I should just get drunk and forget her? I located both wineglasses and plucked them up. Great. I couldn’t tell which was mine. Deep-red lipstick marked the rims of both glasses. But I wanted her, all of her, so I aligned my lips with one imprint and drained the wine in a long gulp then followed with the other. I swiped my lips with the back of my hand and studied the red streak it left on my skin.

  It made me think of her painted lips on my pussy, kissing, licking, learning. I plopped down on the couch, clutched the glasses in one hand and punched the TV remote button, ignoring the blooming warmth in my crotch. “Shit. I’m done for. How am I going to face her at work in the morning?”

  I set the stemware on the coffee table with an awkward clunk, then flipped through the channels and stopped on the local news. My mind wandered back to the bed and that amazing lovemaking as I watched the weather report. More snow, more cold, more gloom to come. The camera shifted from the weatherman to a shot of the anchor and co-anchor. They discussed a local contest¼

  “What in the—”

  Did she just say Pussycat’s lesbian bar?

  I shot to my feet, turned up the volume and crossed to the flat-screen.

  The announcer reported in a stern business voice, “The local nightclub has been reportedly struggling in the recent economic downturn. It is said that one of the two owners, Charles Snyder, orchestrated the controversial contest to draw in new patrons. The contest solicited customers to enter for prize money.” A clip showed the front of the bar aglow with Christmas lights, but then it switched to the inside¼

  And showed the empty stage.

  I gasped and stared agog at the TV screen. “The news station was there? Inside the bar?”

  “However,” the anchor added, “there are conflicting reports as to whether or not only customers were allowed to enter. Some customers state that the co-owner, Leslee Franks, and an unnamed friend got on stage and allegedly performed sexual acts that violate local laws and ordinances.”

  Fuck me.

  My world seemed to tip and spin. My pulse spiked. I couldn’t breathe, and in spite of the chill still in the air from opening the window, sweat gathered at my nape and in my armpits.

  Please no. This can’t be happening.

  They interviewed a heavyset, vaguely familiar butch on screen. “Yeah, it was hot. I never knew Ms. Franks had it in her.”

  Damn it.

  “I’m new in town, so this is the first time I’ve ever been here,” another customer said with a grin. “I’ll be back for sure.”

  Then there was a shot of Billy, my hostess. The reporter held the microphone near her mouth.

  “I’m told the other woman is the coworker and assistant to Ms. Franks at Starling Hotel where Ms. Franks is also the food and beverage director. Can you confirm this?” the reporter asked.

  Billy blinked and stammered, “I¼um¼ Uh, no comment.” She backed away and escaped from the reporter.

  The camera swung to the correspondent. “Well, perhaps that says it all. Back to you in the studio.”

  As the station newsperson wrapped up the story, a quick flash of the contest in progress played on the screen.

  It showed Melanie and I standing back-to-back dancing seductively against each other.

  “Oh my—crap.” I fell to my knees. My hands shook as I rewound the DVR and watched it again.

  Yes, I hadn’t imagined it. The whole report played through again just as I’d thought I’d seen it. My stomach churned and dizziness washed over me. I collapsed to the floor and curled in a ball.

  “No, no, no.” The sobbing fit came in a rush that I couldn’t suppress. I held my head and pulled at my hair. The ceiling spun and tilted above me. I scrambled to my hands and knees and started to crawl toward the bathroom to throw up the wine I’d just downed.

  But my cell phone rang somewhere in the kitchen. I thought about letting it go, but the bar was just closing downstairs and I was on call for the night. So I got to my feet, did a stumbling detour over to the kitchen and plucked up the phone off the breakfast bar.

  The phone
screen read “Starling Hotel”.

  Ah, fuck me.

  “H-hello?”

  “Leslee?” Damn. It was Henry Edwards, my boss and the general manager.

  I gulped. “Y-yes, this is Leslee.”

  “Did you happen to watch the local news tonight?” he asked in that usual condescending voice of his. Only this time I detected the undertones of barely controlled rage.

  I didn’t answer him like an intelligent, guiltless woman should. I couldn’t. My words were lodged like a dirt clod in my throat. All I could get out was a string of, “Uh¼I¼um¼”

  He sighed. “Of course you did. Everyone in this whole fucking city did. Get your ass over here to the hotel right now. I’ll be waiting in my office. And make it quick.”

  “But I—”

  He hung up on me.

  I stared at the phone, stunned, speechless. The nausea returned in a tide of dread and panic.

  Charles. This was all that bastard’s fault. He’d told me it would only be broadcast by radio, and with no contestant names. But at the same time, he’d threatened me, demanding I enter to up the buzz from our current clientele or else he’d sell the bar. I pounded my fist on the countertop. I should have known better—I knew how deceitful Charles could be.

  Yet I’d let him talk me into participating. “You’re extremely popular among our patrons, but you’re known for being¼modest. We get a buzz going here in the club that you’re going to perform, hell, we’ll double our usual event earnings and draw in new customers,” he’d said. “If we don’t, I’m selling my sixty percent to Bards.”