by Fiona Zedde
Chapter 7
Her pussy was wet and wide open. The ass, firm and round, glowed a particular shade of brown that had long since been Rémi’s favorite. That lovely ass tapered down to sleek thighs that spread and knees bent so beautifully as the woman knelt on the bed. Rémi pulled off her jacket and dropped it on the chair before rolling up her sleeves and undoing the buttons of the shirt. She liked the fine cotton on her skin. How it lightly caressed her bare nipples and the sensitive flesh of her belly.
A fine layer of sweat already covered her skin from her night’s work. But she wasn’t finished. Casting an eye over the built-in shelves before her, she tried to decide just how she would reward the woman in her bed for her patience. And how to reward herself. The lowermost drawer caught her eye and she smiled. It had been a while since she used that.
The woman in the bed, Monique, made a low noise when she heard the drawer open. She was bent doggie-style in the bed, her arms bound behind her in twin leather wrist-cuffs. A long chain, suspended from a bolt in the ceiling and looped through the cuffs, held her wrists up over her naked back. The pretty blue silicone ring sticking out from her ass danced in the air as she squirmed. Monique moved on the bed, a strangled moan working its way past the ball gag in her mouth. The gag ball poking from between her burgundy-painted lips was a pale blue and made her look even more delectable, like she was swallowing the sky. Her thighs dripped with her pussy juice, thick and plentiful from where Rémi had played with her, teased her hole and clit until the woman was moaning and begging to come. Rémi didn’t let her.
It was after one o’clock, and she had gone to Gillespie’s just to make sure that everything was going fine in her absence. And it was. But she was a little distracted. The scent of Claudia’s pussy and the way she had moaned under her hands made Rémi burn. If only she had reached under that red dress, touched that cunt that was steaming for her. Steaming and hot for a touch of Rémi’s mouth. Or her fingers. Or both. Just the thought of it made Rémi’s mouth go dry. Her pussy wet.
But Claudia wasn’t ready for her. Monique was.
The slim waitress intercepted Rémi on the way to her office, smelling of sex in the leather corset and miniskirt, her permed hair caught in a French twist. She said she wanted to play tonight, and Rémi’s nostrils flared. This was just what she needed to distract herself from Claudia. They’d played together occasionally, nothing serious, but Rémi always liked how Monique could take whatever she had to give without complaining. Even better, she always asked for more.
She didn’t complain when Rémi had simply nodded without speaking, none of the usual small talk and pleasantries. The invitation was her open hand and a tug into the dark chamber of her office. Without turning on the lights, they made their way to the bedroom at the back of the office, beyond a small set of stairs and behind a thick, soundproof door. The room was originally meant just for sleeping, but Rémi hadn’t slept there in a long time. Its king-size platform bed was used for play. A set of wide, built-in shelves above the bed held a display of instruments for every possible pleasure and pain. The drawers just below the shelves kept the smaller items—butt plugs, anal beads, vibrators, nipple and clit clamps, and batteries, everything that an inventive woman might need to prolong or begin a session meant to last deep into the night.
Rémi stroked Monique’s ass then reached past to retrieve one of her old favorites from the drawer above the bed. It had been washed and slid in nearly pristine condition into its Ziploc bag weeks ago and not been used since. But she was ready for it again. More than ready.
The woman on the bed squirmed at the sound of Rémi’s zipper being released and lowered. She stepped out of pants, still leaving the shirt on. Her pussy was well lubed. Had been since the first of Claudia’s moans began almost four hours ago. She rubbed the smaller end of the double-ended dildo back across her wet slit, teasing her own opening, then up to skim her clit. In the bed, Monique wriggled her ass and stared in the mirror above the bed, watching Rémi tease herself with the big dildo before slowly easing it inside. The silicone already felt warm in her fist as she teased her clit again, this time with the nearly flat middle section of the toy. She slid a condom onto the seven inch length thrusting out from her body, black and glistening. Monique was going to get fucked tonight.
Although she couldn’t move in that position, the woman tried her hardest to back her ass up to get it closer to Rémi and her bobbing dick. She didn’t need to try. Rémi brushed her wet pussy with long fingers, stroking the thick wet lips with a gloved hand. Monique wriggled and groaned again. The sound could have been made by anyone, and Rémi wanted it to be so. The memory of Claudia was so vivid in her mind that she could easily imagine it was the older woman bent over in her bed, wriggling in pleasure and anticipation of her touch. She gagged Monique because she didn’t want the other woman’s voice—a rough New York growl—to interfere with the fantasy of Claudia’s Florida-softened contralto sighing the notes of satisfaction beneath her.
She slammed the dick inside the waiting pussy and groaned at the answering sensation in her own body. Yes. Monique grunted under her and pushed back, meeting Rémi’s hips stroke for stroke. The metronome motion sped up until she was thrusting hard and deep inside the upturned pussy and a growl rumbled continuously from her throat. Yes.
As they fucked, the chain holding Monique’s wrists captive rattled and swung. Monique’s face pushed back and forth into the sheets, and Rémi’s back and ass heated and slid with their own sweat. Claudia’s name was building in her throat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She swallowed it, focused instead on the sweet ache in her pussy, the thick energy building inside.
Groans. The music of flesh on flesh connecting. The sound of the wet pussy swallowing her dick, her grunts and growls of impending satisfaction. Monique’s sweat-slick hips slid under hands, but she dug into the flesh even more, gripping her tightly, slamming into her hips, pushing, sawing until the woman’s guttural cry burst past the gag and Rémi could feel her pussy undulating, swallowing more of the dick as she came. Rémi didn’t stop. She slid a gloved hand over the other woman’s clit, guiding her up another summit, making sure her pleasure lasted. Because Rémi wasn’t done yet.
She massaged the slick clit, feeling her own orgasm rise, that tightening in her belly, that deep throb in her pussy that signaled everything. Fuck. She grasped the hips tighter as she felt her own peak, as the light was beginning to burst behind her tightly closed eyelids. It took her over, bent her hard over the shuddering entity, her body on fire, her face hot, pussy imploding. Monique gasped under her.
Still moving her dick inside the trembling woman, Rémi circled the clit harder and harder, then shoving abruptly, deeply inside, she pulled at the ring at the entrance of the woman’s ass. The anal beads slid free in one steady movement. Monique reared up in the bed, heedless of the chafe on her wrists from the cuffs, her pleasure taking her far beyond pain. Her lust-contorted face was gorgeous in the mirror, a mixture of drool and tears flowing freely down her chin and throat as she came again.
Rémi lightly stroked her sweat-soaked back, slowly moving inside her to bring her down from the orgasm. Monique’s body sagged into the bed, and the chain rattled above her. Rémi unbuckled her wrists, allowing her to fall into the soft cotton sheets, then scooted back to remove the dildo from her body. Rémi sighed as the light aftershocks of pleasure ricocheted through her. The silicone dildo fell to the sheets with a soft plop.
Monique moaned and shivered softly on the bed. With a low groan, Rémi eased down beside her and unbuckled the ball gag, tossing it beside the dildo.
“Thank you,” Rémi breathed in Monique’s ear.
The other woman smelled strongly of sweat and sex, and of Rémi. She wiped at the corner of Monique’s mouth with the sheet. Monique laughed softly.
“No. Thank you, sir.”
Rémi laughed and relaxed against the sheets. If she listened hard enough, Rémi could hear the quiet laughter and voices of the night’s patron
s. She’d left those speakers on, the ones that fed the noises of the club into her office. She’d left the bedroom door open too.
At almost three in the morning on a Thursday, the night was still just getting started for some. Although Gillespie’s was the pre-party spot for much of Miami, some of the laid-back crowd happily stayed at the jazz bar until it closed its doors at five a.m.
The live music part of the evening was over. Now it was just quiet background jazz from the club’s speakers, drinks, and good company. Elena would take care of everything. It was time for Rémi to go home and enjoy the rest of her evening. She looked over at Monique, whose heavy-eyed stare was still fixed on her. The woman licked her lips. But Rémi was through playing with her for the night.
She brushed her thumb over Monique’s damp mouth and smiled. “I have to go. It’s my night off.”
The other woman looked disappointed, but she took the hint and stood up to get dressed. Rémi put her own clothes on, cleaned the toys, and put everything back in order until Monique was dressed and waiting hesitantly by the door. She picked up her keys and gestured toward the door.
“Ready?”
Chapter 8
Rémi was pleasantly worn out from the night before, the muscles in her arms, back, and thighs singing with faint pain. Straddling her bike at a stoplight, she stretched, further waking up the body that didn’t get nearly enough sleep.
After leaving the club, she’d lain awake thinking about Claudia, wondering what it would have been like to have her instead of Monique. And even after sleep came, Rémi had twisted in the sheets, restless, only to wake up much too early, again thinking about Claudia. The woman absorbed her nearly every waking moment.
As the light turned green, she wondered where to take Claudia next and how to show her that Rémi was the one for her. But maybe that was asking too much right now.
Ah, but if you don’t ask, you won’t get. She chuckled and stepped harder on gas, sending the powerful black Harley growling past the slow-moving Nissan truck in front of her. Rémi could already see the roof of Novlette’s Café up on the left. She put on her turn signal and waited for traffic to thin on the other side.
When she walked into the restaurant, she didn’t have to look around to find her friends. They were, predictably, on the terrace, taking advantage of the slow Monday morning crowd to sit at one of the prime spots in their favorite restaurant. The group of three already sat in various poses of ennui at the table overlooking the glittering blue water of Biscayne Bay.
“Hey.” Rémi sat in the only remaining chair, spreading her smile around the table. “What’s going on?”
“The usual,” Sage said with a crooked smile. “We stopped by the club last night but you weren’t there.”
“Night off,” Rémi answered.
“But,” Nuria’s wicked grin materialized, “I heard Monique was up in your office. I’m sure it wasn’t to complain about how you treat your employees.”
Sage sniggered. “I don’t think complaining is something she’d ever do in Rémi’s presence. Word is you always leave that little pain slut satisfied.”
“I do my best,” Rémi murmured. She slid her helmet and gloves under the table, still smiling.
Phil stirred from her contemplation of her coffee cup. “So what was it, stud? Your night off or on?”
“Definitely off. I had a date. Afterwards, I came over to check on the place, and then—”
“What? You had a date?” Sage’s mouth dropped.
Rémi never referred to one of her women as “dates.” She hung out, had appointments, met up with some people, but didn’t really date. Hadn’t since college.
“Don’t tell me you’re going the Dez route. I couldn’t take it if both you and she hitched up and left us poor pitiful singles to play alone.”
“Speak for yourself, honey,” Phil said. “We’re not single.”
She and her girlfriend enjoyed a very open relationship. They fucked whoever and whenever, within the specific and often too-complex rules of engagement. The two women lived together, but that didn’t stop them from bringing people home and having parties of varying degrees of abandon on their shared property.
“But you act like you’re single,” Nuria said. She looked especially luscious today, Rémi noticed, as if she’d spent her entire birthday weekend soaking herself in pleasure. Which she probably had.
“So?” Sage said, reaching over to grab a menu. “You would too with so many gorgeous women—and decadent ways to enjoy them—out there.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Not me.”
Nuria and Rémi both spoke at the same time, and they looked at each other in surprise. Then shook their heads, grinning.
“Do you ladies know what you’d like?”
The waitress appeared at Sage’s side, ostensibly smiling at the whole table but in reality looking right at Rémi. Half the waitstaff was in lust with her—male, female, and in between—and often rushed in tandem to service the table with whatever the women might need when she was around. Nuria looked at Rémi, fully expecting her to order first and give the little waitress a thrill.
She obliged her with a smile, rattling off her order without looking at the menu. Rémi knew exactly what she in the mood for today. The waitress licked her lips once before turning to take Sage’s order. Phil rolled her eyes and snickered.
When the waitress was gone. Sage turned to her friend. “I could easily hate you.”
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”
The entire table groaned.
“But back to this date of yours.”
“There’s nothing much to it. I met up with someone nice; then we went our separate ways at the end of the night.”
“And you fucked the shit out of someone else. She mustn’t have been that nice.”
“Or maybe she was too nice.” Sage’s eyebrow rose. “You know, didn’t want to give it up on the first date. I’ve heard of women like that.”
“A dying breed,” Rémi murmured into the inquisitive silence.
No one wanted to drop the subject of Rémi’s mysterious date, but since nothing was forthcoming, the three women gave a collective shrug. No one ever said no to Rémi. Ever. So this was something they were sure to speculate on when she was gone. Rémi gave a mental shrug of her own. There was nothing to tell about her date with Claudia, and even if there was, they wouldn’t be hearing the details from Rémi’s lips.
When the waitress came back with their food, with two eager members of the waitstaff to help carry the heavy load, the friends adjusted themselves around the table. Rémi’s double order of crepes, fresh strawberries, and whipped topping was, of course, laid out first. Then Phil and Nuria’s platters of steak, eggs, and seasoned potatoes. And last, Sage’s traditional Jamaican breakfast of ackee and saltfish, green bananas, and dumplings with the steam still rising off the food. She rubbed her hands together in anticipated pleasure.
Rémi took her pleasure more subtly, but it was no less profound. The crepes were heaven on her tongue, the way that Claudia would feel. The way that Rémi would make her feel. She smiled and reached for a strawberry.
“Does anyone know when Dez is supposed to come back from her honeymoon?” Phil asked after the proper moment of silence in respect for the wonderful food the women were eating had passed.
Knives and forks skated across the white plates. Full mouths hummed around food.
Sage swallowed first. “Why? Do you want to join in for a little threesome?”
“You know she’s not down with that kind of thing anymore,” Rémi said.
“A shame.” Phil really did look sad, as if the idea of monogamy was a thing to be mourned.
“But true. She’s in love.” Nuria sneered the last word.
“Don’t be a bitter bitch, Ria.” Phil nudged her friend’s shoulder with her own. “You can’t get everything you want.”
“I don’t see why not.” Nuria pouted. “I almost had he
r, though.”
Her friends didn’t bother to correct her.
“I did.” She insisted.
Sage laughed. “Whatever you say, princess.”
Rémi speared the tender pink heart of a strawberry with her fork. “Well at least you still have a chance with Derrick.”
“I know he wouldn’t mind tapping that ass.”
“I know you wouldn’t mind tapping that.” Rémi pointed her fork at Nuria.
“Do you think he’d let you bend him over?” Sage cocked her head in mid-chew.
Nuria shook hot sauce over her eggs and potatoes. “Hm, that’s an interesting image.”
“Do you think he’d take it like a man, or beg you to stop?” Sage was getting carried away, and no one was about to stop her.
Phil looked up and across the restaurant. “This is your chance to ask him. Here he comes.”
“With his latest piece,” Sage said.
Phil smiled, exchanging a look with her girlfriend. “And she’s very hot.”
“Very.” Sage snickered. “Oh. My bad. That’s his mother.”
Rémi couldn’t help it. She twisted around in the seat to watch Derrick and Claudia walk out to the patio of the restaurant. The older woman had bleached her hair. Now it was all white and hugged her scalp in thick curls. The combination of the black lashes, eyebrows, and youthful face with Claudia’s silver hair was stunning. Rémi let out a slow breath.
“Claudia looks really good,” she said before she could help herself. She picked up a strawberry and stuck it into her mouth before she could say anything else. Like correct herself and call Claudia “Mrs. N.” like she used to. But her friends didn’t seem to notice the slip; they only murmured in agreement.
“Dez really lucked out swimming in that gene pool,” Sage said around her food.
“Derrick!” Nuria called out, causing her friends look at her. “What?” she muttered under her breath as the person in question looked around the restaurant then started walking toward their table when he noticed them. “I’m just trying to be neighborly.”
