Holiday Wolf Pack

by Bridget Essex

  But here it is, sizzling between a perfect stranger and myself. A perfect stranger who I'm hoping will want to be my roommate.

  I've been subsisting on the cheapest food for months now (I was being serious when I said that ramen and peanut butter and jelly have been my meals of choice), ever since Diane moved out. Going out to coffee with her once a week is something I budget for very carefully (with my own coffee totaling just a buck fifty), and that's the only nice thing I do for myself, period. I could get by when we were both paying the rent, but just by myself, it's killing me. I know that I could move out of this place, get a smaller, cheaper apartment in a less safe neighborhood, but...but...

  I love this apartment. I love the independence it afforded me after college. I've been here for so long, and my heart is so involved with my neighbors, the neighborhood...I couldn't bear leaving it.

  So am I going to throw that all away right now?

  Maybe that's a little dramatic. I know that if I waited long enough and was patient enough, I'd be able to find someone else to room with me. But I've kind of got a couple strikes against me. The lesbian thing is a turnoff to some people; the high price of rent (even halved) is kind of a bummer...

  And, you know, Christmas nightmare-land has scared off everyone who's come to see the place.

  So, yeah, finding someone else who would room with me is possible; it might just take an eternity to do it.

  I stand there in the middle of my living room, and I glance at Jewel. She's watching me with hooded eyes, with darkening eyes, and in the glowing twinkle lights suspended around my room, with the softly glowing vintage Santa light watching us from the corner (actually, that's a little creepy—I really have to situate him someplace else) casting us in the festive warmth of red and green...I think about my life. Just for a minute.

  About how hard I work. About how I don't have time for anything else but work. About my sad social life, and the sad state of my finances, and how I haven't done anything fun in, well, a long time. Life just kept beating me down, and I kept taking it, but there comes a point where people break. Where they finally reach the stage of enough is enough.

  I'm there. I realize I'm there as I stand in the middle of my living room, coated in a thick layer of Christmas cheer, the Christmas cheer that I was enchanted with as a child.

  The Christmas cheer I haven't felt for myself in such a long time, no matter how hard I've tried.

  I want something nice again.

  I take a deep breath. I lick my lips.

  “What do you look like...” I murmur, glancing at Jewel, then. I take another deep breath, my heart pounding so hard against my ribs that I'm worried it's going to stop working altogether in a minute. “...when...when you're a wolf?” I finish.

  Jewel's smoldering gaze burns a little brighter in that moment as she lifts her chin, flashing me a devastating smile. She takes a step back and shrugs out of her leather jacket, tossing it lightly onto my couch. Jewel is standing there now in her tight jeans, her black tank top, her lithe, lean body as toned as any runner's, and she shrugs a little, holding her bronze hands open with their gorgeous, long fingers curled toward me, palms up.

  “Do you want me to show you?” she breathes into the stillness between us.

  The intensity of this moment is somewhat lessened by my cell phone going off just then, the dogs cheerfully barking “Jingle Bells,” much to my utter and complete chagrin. I laugh, and so does she, as I pull my cell phone out of my purse, turn it off without even looking at who was calling, and toss it back into my purse, letting my purse drop with a dull thud to the floor.

  “Yeah,” I tell her, breathing the word out, heat rushing through me. “I'd love to see.”

  Jewel takes another step back from me, and she turns to the side a little, her smile turning up her lips, showing her bright white teeth as she smoothly peels the tank top up and over her head.

  Wow. Again, that escalated quickly.

  The tank top is placed next to her leather jacket on my couch, but I'm not really paying much attention to that, because I just realized exactly what answering my question entails.

  As in, you know, nakedness.

  The room gets hotter. I stand there, flushed in my coat, feeling every inch of my skin ignite as Jewel stands there in front of me in her jeans, in her black lace bra that cups her high breasts. The softness of that bronze skin contrasted against the black of the bra is bewitching.

  I'm staring, but I can't tear my eyes away as she reaches behind her back and expertly undoes the hooks. She shimmies the thin black straps down her shoulders, sliding them over her arms as the bra comes off in her hands. She sets this, too, on the couch, and then she's grinning wickedly at me as I gulp down air, as I try to remember how to breathe (kind of failing in this moment) as she leans forward, her breasts swaying as she bends at the waist, as she undoes the button on her jeans, unzipping her fly, shrugging the jeans down her hips, shimmying out of them, too, until they lie in a heap, pooling around her feet. She steps out of them.

  Her breasts are large, round, full, and her brown nipples are peaked to attention, drawing my gaze. She is beautiful, her curves flowing inward and outward as I follow the lines of her waist, her hips, her thighs, every inch of her glowing bronze skin intoxicating; I realize I'm fisting my fingers tightly, my nails embedding themselves in my palms, just so that I don't step forward, reach out and touch her. At the hollow of her throat, I can see her skin thrumming with her pulse; her heart is beating fast, too.

  She knows I'm staring, and I'm fairly certain she knows exactly what I'm feeling, because her mischievous grin grows deeper as she hooks her fingers in the edges of her black silk panties. “Sorry,” she tells me, a lilt in her voice. “I really do have to disrobe entirely. These underwear were damn expensive, and I kind of want to keep them in one piece.”

  I don't say anything, because I can't say anything. She's dragging her panties down her thighs and then stepping neatly out of them.

  But she doesn't give me long to appreciate the view. Because she's turning to the side, and she's lifting her nose to the sky.

  It's almost immediate, the change from woman to wolf. If you asked me to describe it, I don't think I could. I think I blinked and missed it. There were stages in between, I'm sure of it, but it's like someone ran their thumb over the edges of a flipbook much too quickly to catch the individual stills. All I know is that Jewel, the ridiculously sexy woman, is standing in my living room, completely nude, one moment, as glorious as a statue of a goddess...

  And then there's a white wolf standing there, instead, blinking bright, warm amber eyes at me, calm and still, as if she's lived here all her life.

  The wolf is tall—her head as high as my chest. Her pelt is very shaggy and thick, luxurious, really, and the same color of her hair when she's in human form, that perfect white-gold, shot through with a shimmer that reminds me of burnished metal. Her paws are enormous, as big as the palm of my hand, and her great big tail gives a single wag as she stares at me intently.

  I know that this wolf, standing tall and proud in front of me, is Jewel, and therefore I shouldn't be afraid. I watched her change in front of me. I've been aware that there were werewolves in the world for years now, but still...there's a wolf standing in the middle of my living room, a big one, and I think that would be unnerving for anyone who has never experienced it before. I take a deep breath, and I step forward slowly, tentatively, my hand outstretched to her.

  “Wow,” I manage, and the wolf opens her mouth, her bright red tongue rolling out as she pants happily at me, blinking her amber eyes slowly. “You're beautiful,” I tell her softly, and I'm smiling, too, I realize, as I sink down into a crouch before her.

  I hold the wolf's gaze, and she holds mine unwaveringly. We're both very still, wolf and woman, just looking at each other, but then I blink again, and it's not the wolf in front of me but Jewel, crouching, too, one knee drawn up to her chest, the other pressed against the floor as she cocks
her head a little at me, a warm smile dancing over her mouth.

  Her closeness, the heat of her and the nakedness...it makes me shiver.

  “What do you think?” she asks me in a low voice. A low voice, I might add, that sends another shiver of desire through me.

  I just saw something beautiful. I know there are scientific reasons that werewolves can transform, but it was kind of magical to witness.

  For half a heartbeat, I think about my daily diet of ramen and sandwiches; I think about how I can't make ends meet, and that's all scary stuff that I don't want to consider, not right now.

  “I think you're beautiful,” I whisper to her, hearing the roar of blood in my ears, feeling my limbs tremble as I put everything on the line. As I lean forward slowly, tentatively...

  And I kiss her.

  Her mouth is hot against my mouth: it's the kind of heat that's intense, surprising. I start with a kiss that's soft, questioning (I mean, we haven't really done the whole “are you? I am!” chat about lesbianism), but it evolves in a heartbeat to something a little more intense.

  A little more wild.

  Because we didn't really need to do the “are you? I am!” talk at all. She's leaning into me now, reaching forward, wrapping her fingers in my ponytail and drawing me tightly to her. I already took off the hat, but the jingle bells on my elf shoes tinkle a little, and I'm internally grimacing, but I don't care about that fact in a second, because she's pressing her front tightly against me, and she's naked—her breasts are firm as they press against my own chest, and she's wrapping her fingers around my left hip, pulling me snug to her, and I can feel the heat of her entire length radiating through my coat, through my clothes, right into the deepest parts of me.

  My center is alive, and pretty much instantly I'm wet, and, dammit, I'm in the most ridiculous elf costume, with about twenty leering vintage Santas peering down at us (and one goldfish who's a little mad I haven't fed him yet), but I'm shrugging out of my coat, desperate, urgent, as she helps me, her long fingers tugging down my sleeves until the coat lies in a heap on the floor.

  Her hands are immediately at the buckle of the belt around my waist, tugging it off, as she keeps kissing me. She's hot; there's the heat of cinnamon to her, and I seem to taste it as I drink her deeply, wrapping my arms around her neck that radiates heat into my skin. She yanks off the belt in frustration, tossing it aside, and then she's pushing up my tunic and my bra with quick hands, pushing them up and over my breasts, but there's apparently no time to take either off completely, because she's leaning me backwards onto my carpeting, her knees on the floor between my legs, her hands squeezing my breasts, her mouth on my own—hot, fast, and fierce.

  If I think about this, even for a moment, I won't be able to believe it's happening, and I'll jinx the hell out of it. So I turn off my brain, and all I do is feel with my heart, with my body, with my center, aching in a delicious way.

  So the last time I was with a woman was about six months ago. I went to the bar a few blocks from my house, got wasted, did a random hookup. I'm not usually like that, but I was really stressed out about life, in general, and I needed it. I went back to her place (remember the Christmas nightmare-land that's my apartment!), and the sex was kind of terrible. We were both drunk; I don't remember much, but I do remember that she kept calling me “Clara” (I'm assuming it was the name of her ex-girlfriend), which kind of killed the mood for me. Things were sloppy; we were both terribly uncoordinated because of the whole drunk thing. It was just a mess.

  Here and now, I'm very present in this moment, I'm not drunk at all, and I'm intoxicated with the I-can't-believe-this-is-happening-ness of the situation. I'm gripping her hips as she settles herself in between my legs, and she's crouching over me, so I sit up a little on my left elbow, tracing my fingers over the beautiful, bronze skin of her hip, her thigh, down to the curls at her center.

  She hisses out in delight, her eyes darkening, as I brush a thumb over her clit. She's arching her back, biting her lip, stilling her movements as if she's going inward, concentrating on the pleasure as I slowly press my thumb harder against her. She's so wet, so wanting, and I don't waste any time, because there's no time to waste.

  I curl my fingers up and into the heat of her as she cries out a little, a low, guttural moan that sends a shock of desire to the deepest core of me. She bends a little, placing her forehead against my shoulder, moaning out low and long now as her head drifts lower, as she captures my right breast with her mouth.

  Jewel is pumping her hips on my hand, and I press the back of my hand against my own center to try and steady it. I gasp as I feel my own slickness against my skin, and I spread my legs a little wider so that she has room to crouch over me. We are as close as possible, our chests touching, our skin slick with each other's sweat (God, it's too hot in this room to even function, but we're managing just fine), as she grinds against me, as I gasp out, her teeth grazing my nipple now; she tugs down on it. I'm thumbing her clit quickly with short strokes, and her center is hot around my hand, pulsing once. She's already so close. She must have been wanting it just as badly as I have.

  It's quick, how fast she comes then, pulsing against my hand with short, sharp bursts as she gasps against me, lifting her head back, her neck a perfect bronze curve in the air above me as she opens her mouth, letting out a growl of satisfaction and pleasure that floods my body with delight. I coax the orgasm longer, slower, sweeter, and she keeps pulsing against my hand until her forehead falls against my shoulder again. I pull out my fingers, tracing their wetness up our bodies both until I'm curving my hand around her chin, drawing her to me for another kiss.

  And kiss me she does, a slow kiss now, a sensual, tasting sort of kiss as she suckles at my lower lip, nipping at me with pretty white teeth, her smile round and full against me as she sighs out with contentment, with satisfaction. She pulses her hips, her hips lying against my center, once, and I moan a little against her mouth. She's not done yet.

  She grinds her hips slowly then, lifting her face away from my own and staring down at me with those intense amber eyes. It is almost impossible to hold that wild, wanting gaze, but somehow I manage, though the flush of heat rushes through me; desire grows so strongly in me as she grinds her hips against my center that I feel every atom in my body making tiny explosions. I hold her gaze, panting, as she presses against me, her mouth open, her lips swollen from my kiss. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, bringing her down to me, because I can't bear to hold her gaze anymore. I'm going to come from that alone, from her bright eyes seeing to the very depths of me.

  She's rubbing against me in all the right places, and I'm so wet, and she's so wet, and everything is that delicious, electric friction, traveling through our bodies, the brightness of it so searing that I can hardly breathe, gasping out as my entire body shudders. We connect everywhere, our hearts together, our hips together, our legs entwined. I can feel another shudder moving through me, and then it's here, the orgasm cresting in me so fiercely that I moan out loud, my head back, my entire body shuddering as she holds me close, as she pumps her hips slowly now, watching my face carefully with her burning amber eyes.

  Finally, we lay still, her on top of me, my body cradling her, my legs wrapped around her loosely, my arms around her neck, her mouth against my skin, kissing me softly and sweetly, her mouth still searing as she tastes me. I can hardly open my eyes, my lashes fluttering against my cheeks as I finally manage to lift my gaze and hold hers. Her long lashes move slowly over her golden eyes, and I tilt up my chin, capturing her mouth for one last, slow kiss.

  “Good,” she whispers then, bending her head so that her lips brush against my ear, making my skin tremble with delight. Her mouth is curling up at the corners as she murmurs to me, “I'd love to be your roommate, if you'll have me.”

  I glance over her shoulder and around the apartment. At the Christmas-splosion that has become my life.

  But I also see, in an abstract way, all the possibilities tha
t having her here will mean.

  What she might end up meaning.

  “Are you sure?” I ask her, propping myself up on my elbows as she sits back on her heels, still between my legs, her hands planted on the floor on either side of my thighs as she leans forward, her mouth an inch away from mine. I grin a little, biting my lip as I hold out my hand to her, between us, with my own big smile. “I mean, if you take this apartment, become my roommate, you take everything...” I gesture to the apartment at large, and then down at myself. I'm still wearing my elf shoes. “Bells and all,” I tell her, with a short laugh.

  She takes my hand, and I'm surprised again at how hot her skin is against mine. She holds my gaze with her warm, amber eyes. There are sparks there, as she smiles mischievously. Sparks that create an inferno.

  “Bells and all,” she repeats, her voice low and husky. “If you'll take me, wolf and all.”

  “Wolf and all,” I promise, and we shake on it, laughing together. And then we kiss on it, too, she cupping my face with her hands, me pulling her on top of me.

  The twinkle lights above us shimmer and flash as I taste her again.

  ---

  I wake up blearily, cracking my eyes open and rubbing sleep out of them with the heels of my hands. I grimace a little, shifting my weight—God, my back is killing me—but that's when I realize it's killing me because I slept on my living room floor last night. I roll over, and my arm hits something very hot and soft.

  I open my eyes, and I'm staring into a bright amber gaze, a soft, sensual smile curling Jewel's mouth up at the corners as she looks at me, breathing slowly.

  “Good morning,” she murmurs with a low growl of pleasure, propping her hand under chin. “I was going to carry you into the bedroom last night so you wouldn't have to sleep on the floor,” she tells me with a wry smile, “but I didn't want to wake you. So we just stayed here.”

  “Oh, my God—that's so nice,” I murmur, and then I'm smiling shyly at her. “Uh...I don't normally do stuff like this,” I say, gesturing down at my naked body covered in a Santa Claus throw we pulled down from the couch last night to drape over the both of us. “Or, you know, this,” I murmur, reaching out in the space between us and placing the pad of my forefinger against her skin. She's intensely hot to the touch, and I shiver a little as I trace that finger down her neck, over the heat of her body and down the front of her chest, between her breasts, the heat of her skin there, over her heart, so intensely hot it burns me. She shudders a little, her eyes darkening with pleasure as she gazes at me.