Hungry for It

by Fiona Zedde

  After the carrots were finished—Rémi watched, enthralled with each movement of her mouth—the woman raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and continued to watch the school doors. What struck Rémi then was that Claudia’s mouth was so relaxed, and even while waiting in repose, seemed to have just the smallest hint of a smile. And when she spotted the people she was waiting for, a girl and boy, obviously hers, the suggestion of a smile became more. Teeth flashed. The hand left her pocket to wave at and to receive her children. Everything about her shouted love.

  “I never saw you,” Claudia said.

  “I know.”

  It was a happy coincidence that Dez and Rémi became friends not long after. The first time she walked into her friend’s house and saw Claudia, she tripped over her own feet. Claudia’s smile turned on her with a gently voiced, “Careful,” and Rémi couldn’t imagine anywhere else she’d rather be.

  Rémi cleared her throat and reached for the wine bottle. “It was a long time ago. I’ve changed a lot since then.”

  Claudia pursed her lips, watching Rémi refill her glass. “And change is a good thing.”

  “Why, Mrs. Nichols, are you saying that you prefer me chasing after you instead of mooning from afar?”

  “Absolutely. I prefer directness.”

  “In that case,” Rémi murmured. “Come here.”

  Claudia’s eyebrow went up. Their eyes dueled for control from across the table with the candlelight flickering over Claudia’s tamarind skin and curved mouth. Rémi waited. When Claudia finally pushed her chair back, she sighed inside. With shaking hands, she pushed her own chair back, stood up, moved the chair away from the table, then sat back down.

  “Sit in my lap.” The voice felt rough in her throat. “Please.”

  Claudia sat, perched sideways in her respectable dress that Rémi longed to get under. The dark blue spill of cloth over Rémi’s black slacks pulled her stomach tight. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.

  “Now that I’m here, what do you need?”

  Rémi smiled without humor. “I want to touch you.”

  She wanted to take it slow. There was something she wanted more. To gaze in appreciation of Claudia’s dress draped like a piece of loose silk over her small breasts, the sighing softness of the strip of flesh between, the texture of her shoulder under Rémi’s fingers. But the moment she lifted her hands to Claudia’s waist, felt the waiting anticipation in the other woman, she was lost. A groan pulled itself from the soles of Rémi’s feet, scraping through her thighs, her pussy, beneath her nipples, and out of her mouth.

  “Claudia.”

  Her mouth was spiced heat. Quinoa and passion. Wine and salvation. Claudia kissed Rémi back as if she were drowning. As if she wanted this connection of flesh more than anything. More than Rémi wanted it. Hands gripped Rémi’s hair, tongue slid wetly against hers. Panting breaths. Claudia groaned too, pushed her skirt up higher on her thighs and swung around to straddle Rémi in the chair. The smell of her pussy breathed into Rémi’s nose.

  “You taste so good!” Claudia gasped in wonder.

  Rémi shoved her hands away to get at the dress. The straps fell into her hands, scraped down Claudia’s arms to reveal her. Rémi stopped. Breath hitching in her throat. Panting small, disbelieving breaths. So perfect. The dress pooled at Claudia’s waist, framing the most perfect breasts she had ever seen. Small with tips like dark chocolate kisses. They moved gently with each breath Claudia took, lifting and falling above her curving ribs. Rémi licked her lips.

  “If you don’t touch me soon,” Claudia rasped, pressing her fingers to Rémi’s head, “I’m going to do something drastic.”

  “I—”

  But Claudia pushed Rémi’s mouth against the hard nipple and she sighed, opened her mouth over it, and was lost again. The desire in her body, warring with everything else, took over. It was just a woman’s breast. But it wasn’t. Her tongue cupped the rough nipple, licked it. Sucked until Claudia sighed. Rémi trembled, forcing herself to slow. The dizzying smell of Claudia’s pussy, the soft gasps above her head, the squirming femaleness on her lap. Her senses went up in flames. Still she was careful. She cupped Claudia’s ass, pulled her closer, kneaded the soft flesh. Shaking, shaking on the inside.

  “You touch me like I’m going to break.” Claudia pressed her finger against Rémi’s mouth. “I won’t, you know.”

  But Rémi didn’t know. She wanted to ravage her. Eat her up, drink and fuck and take until they were both a trembling mass on the floor, but she didn’t want to hurt Claudia. Didn’t want to damage this precious thing.

  “Fuck me.”

  The hot whisper exploded inside Rémi like a flare.

  Rémi’s mouth immediately reclaimed a nipple, covering the small breast with her hot and thirsty mouth. Her teeth scraped them. Claudia hissed. She wet two fingers and slipped them inside Claudia, her forearm shaking with restraint.

  “Deeper.” Claudia gasped softly. “Please.”

  Whatever she wanted. Whatever she needed. That’s what Rémi would give.

  She went deeper and the pussy swallowed her fingers, squeezing them. Beautiful. She was so beautiful. The moment swirled in Rémi’s head. She heard the chair groan with their movements, felt the air move as Claudia flung her head back.

  Music from the stage still poured in through the speakers, weaving jazz and magic through the other music of Claudia’s groans. Her legs widened over Rémi’s thighs. Her fingers dug into Rémi’s shoulder. Soft “oh”s tumbled from her mouth with each dive and shallow of fingers, each slide of Rémi’s thumb over her thick clit. The smell of her cunt made Rémi’s mouth water. Claudia was close. Her breath hitching in her throat, sweat coating the graceful lines of her face. She wanted to touch her more. Wanted to get access to all of her skin, all of her passion. Rémi glanced quickly around. Not the desk. Or the table. But the floor . . .

  Still fucking Claudia with her fingers, Rémi lifted them both out of the chair to the floor. Her clit ached to feel Claudia’s against it. To feel anything but this frustrating lack of contact. But as soon as Claudia’s back met the carpet, Rémi growled, forgetting about her own needs. Her mouth swam, anticipating the taste of wet pussy. She shoved the dress up, sweeping her thighs wider apart. The pussy smell, hot, salty, and intoxicating, made her dizzy.

  “Open your legs wider for me. I want to see you.”

  They fell wider still, and Rémi almost cried. So fucking hot. Her entire body shook with want. How could she need something this much and not die without it? She opened her mouth hungrily over Claudia’s pussy. Something in her pounded, knocked hard at the rightness of now, holding her thighs open as she fed on the steaming cunt. Plunged her tongue into the salty, wet hole. As the fingers resting against her head urged her on.

  But Claudia tugged at her hair, pulling away from the streaming fount. No, that wasn’t the way to do it. She wanted to tell Claudia, but her mouth was full.

  “The door!” Claudia whispered hoarsely. “There’s someone at the door.”

  They could wait. Everything could wait but this. She vaguely heard someone else call her name, but since it wasn’t Claudia, they didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

  “Emergency—it sounds—oh!” Her thighs trembled around Rémi’s ears. “Important!”

  Rémi pulled her ears away from the sounds of Claudia’s voice. Her moans. The suck and release of her pussy around Rémi’s tongue. The knock on the door came. Harder. “Fuck.” She pulled away from the heady smell of the pussy. Stood up panting and helped Claudia to her feet. Her own pussy twitched. With a low growl, she grabbed the napkin off the table and wiped her mouth before going to the door.

  “Yes?”

  Tamika, one of the waitresses, stood in the doorway looking as if she wanted to sink into the floor. “I’m sorry, Rémi, but we have a situation downstairs.” She swallowed. “There’s a guy, he—can you please come?”

  She looked quickly behind her to Claudia, who
smoothed her dress down over her thighs.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said to Claudia.

  But “right back” wasn’t the way it turned out. A hulking football player and tourist had decided that he wanted one of the waitresses even though she told him more than once that she wasn’t going to give it to him for free or otherwise. The six-foot-six musclehead insisted, and when the bouncers forced him to see the error of his ways, spraining his wrist in the process, the hulk started to shout about suing the club and everyone connected to it.

  By the time Rémi soothed him, brought him into Elena’s office for a private discussion and consultation from a staff member with knowledge of first aid, then sent him on his way, over two hours had passed. Rémi went upstairs expecting to find Claudia gone, but instead, when she walked into her darkened office, the other woman lay curled up on the black velvet couch, her lace scarf draped over her throat and her bare feet curled up on the sofa.

  She crouched down. “Claudia.” When the other woman opened her eyes, Rémi smoothed a thumb down her silky jawline. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think it would take that long.”

  Claudia blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Smiled groggily. “It’s all right, honey. You’re doing your job.”

  “Still . . .” Rémi sighed. She had wanted so much to make love with her. But they say everything happens for a reason, right? “Come, let me take you home. It’s late.”

  Claudia looked into her face. Whatever she saw there made her nod. “Okay.”

  She sat up, found her purse, and slid her feet in her shoes. Before she could do anything else, Rémi scooped her into her arms, holding her close, sank her nose into the fragrant curve of her neck. She took her down the back stairs that led directly to the parking lot. With some tricky maneuvering, she got the truck door open and gently put Claudia in the passenger seat.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she said.

  Claudia snuggled into the leather seat. “You certainly will.”

  Rémi smiled. Moments later, she dropped Claudia off with a soft kiss before driving back to the club. Walking into her office, she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. Managing the club was turning out to be much more intrusive in her life than she first thought. Maybe it was time to hire someone else. Or give Elena a raise when she came back to work.

  “You look a little tense.”

  Rémi stiffened at the low voice that uncoiled from the darkness. On the couch, stretched out in the exact spot Claudia just left, lay Monique. The waitress had fully unbuttoned her top to show off the lace-edged black bra and the breasts overflowing it.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Monique adjusted her bare legs against the leather, thighs sprawled to pull her skirt up even higher, showing that she wore nothing underneath. “To see if I can do anything for you.”

  Hands on hips, Rémi straightened, feeling her vertebrae pop one after the other, and took a deep breath. It was almost three o’clock. Beyond the glass wall, the club still hummed with activity although the stage was clear and shut down for the night and only the piano on the second floor still pumped music into the low-lit space. At this time of the evening, only those who intended to make Gillespie’s their last stop remained. People still ate, the conversation still flowed, but on a much lower key. Romance sat between couples under the dim lights, comfortable singles entertained themselves with the bartenders. It was a lull that Rémi often enjoyed by herself long after her friends had gone on to less leisurely pursuits.

  Sometimes it was good to sit in her darkened office, hearing Magnus on the piano while she settled into her bones. Into the quiet of the place that she owned. A place no one could expel her from. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. She turned to Monique.

  “Get up.”

  The blood still throbbed inside her veins for Claudia. The pulse still beat thickly between her thighs. It was subdued before, but at the sight of Monique, it began raging again. The waitress, confident and sexy in the high heels, white shirt unbuttoned, the skirt already halfway pulled up her thighs, breasts offered up like fruit to Rémi’s eyes and hands. But she didn’t want anything so obvious. Not right now. Her eyes glittered with what looked like triumph in the darkened room. Rémi relit the candles from the aborted dinner with Claudia, scraped the plates, food and all, into the waste bin; she shoved the bin away.

  “Here.”

  The word puffed from her mouth, a bull’s hot breath.

  Monique came and Rémi shoved her roughly forward over the table. The candles shuddered on its surface. The waitress gasped, grabbed the edge of the table, her ass a thick curve under her skirt. Rémi could already feel her excited breath, the way the skin already trembled beneath its clothes in anticipation of Rémi’s hard touch.

  “Pull down your skirt.”

  The last word was barely past her lips before Monique fumbled back, undid her skirt, and tugged it down past her ass to let it drop around her ankles and shoes. She kicked it away and stood, legs apart, breath coming harder. With a strong tug, Rémi pulled the white blouse from her back, unhooked the bra, leaving Monique bare, just the smooth expanse of back and her ass in the tiny lace panties. Thwarted lust swam in Rémi’s veins. Claudia. Claudia. Claudia. That was who she wanted, but Monique’s body flexed against the table, ass pushing back against Rémi again, reminding her what was close rather than desired. The thick pussy lips opened even more under the dark lace, sucking wetly at the fabric.

  She’d wanted to make love to Claudia in this room, show her what fifteen years of pent-up lust could do. But instead she was here. Monique was here. The waitress’s back twitched when the first drip of wax hit. She hissed. The white wax dipped into the hills and valleys of her back, forming a lake swimming toward the trough of her spine. The flame flickered over Monique’s skin, the beautiful dark and light of wax and flesh. With one hand Rémi poured the wax, holding the thick candle like a cup over the undulating skin. And with the other . . .

  Monique was wet. Under the panties, she was a river, eagerly soaking Rémi’s fingers, pussy lips thick, the juicy entrance to her cunt flushed pink and eager. The waitress hissed again, pushed back harder. Wax splashed against her skin.

  The table squeaked under Monique’s body, jerking against the floor as Rémi fucked her gently, then not so gently, coating her fingers with the essence of her cunt, needing to feel the hot kiss of the woman’s pussy around her fingers, her hand. Reaching past Monique, Rémi put the candle on the table and shoved it out of the way. Monique gasped when Rémi twisted, pushed, fit her entire hand, her fist into her pussy.

  Her god. Monique groaned out his name, pushing back on Rémi’s hand, her pretty back undulating and lined with sweat, the wax coming off in flakes as she moved. Rémi pumped her fist, feeling the strain in her arm, the burn that climbed into her shoulder, into the rest of her body, settling into her groin, her pussy, moving her fist faster inside the woman who swallowed it up, bucked against her, her every motion begging for more. Orgasm. Her cum crushed down on Rémi’s fist. A vice that wrenched her arm the way her guttural screams wrenched into the air. Sweat rippling down her back, Rémi’s fist buried into her. Ass round and full, jiggling and hot. Ripe and wet.

  “Good,” Rémi murmured. “So good.”

  But she wasn’t finished. She was slow about pulling her fist back, careful the way she needed to be, but with the same hand, she stroked Monique’s clit and the woman gasped again, laughed deeply in her throat. “Yes,” she moaned, “yes.” She wanted more. And Rémi gave it.

  She jerked down her zipper, her pants, fabric gathering around her ankles as she leaned. Clit finding merciful contact against the full curve of Monique’s ass. God! Rémi pulled off her tie and lashed it around Monique’s throat, caressed the skin with the green silk while she rode the full curve of that ass, rubbing her clit, her breasts against Monique even as she used the other hand to play with the waitress’s cunt, pulled back the thick pussy lips, slid her fuck finger deep into t
he dripping center of her, then out to caress, to nudge, to agitate the fat clit. Monique grunted again, speeding her movements, and Rémi sped her own movements on the thick and juicy ass, her clit coming into perfect contact with that flesh. Monique moaned.

  “Close,” she gasped.

  Rémi pulled the silk tight. Squeezed it in her fist until the waitress was breathless, gasping for air. A river of sensation flooded her. Against the table, Monique panted. Rémi’s world burst into flames. The table scraped against the floor, rocked, then stood still as they both gasped. Sweating. She loosened her grip on the tie at Monique’s throat. Dropped her head into the heated valley of Monique’s back, her breath coming quickly. Then slowing. Slow.

  She pushed herself away from Monique. The waitress lay against the table, her breath still coming quickly, treating Rémi to her upturned backside, the drip at her sex, wetness coating the insides of her thighs. She turned and looked over her shoulder at Rémi. Licked her lips.

  Rémi acknowledged the look and the invitation to a marathon fuck session with a dip of her lashes, but that was all. She turned away. In the bathroom, she washed her hands and straightened her clothes. By the time she walked back into her office, Monique was dressed and standing still by the table, shirt buttoned, skirt on, hair in perfect order. Rémi looked at her until she finally smiled in cool understanding and walked toward the door.

  Rémi knotted her tie and smoothed down the collar of her shirt. “By the way, Monique.”

  The waitress turned to look at her.

  “I don’t ever want you in my office again without my invitation. Understand?”

  Monique’s face froze and her eyes darted to the side. She looked down at the floor. “Yes, Rémi.”

  “Good.”

  Rémi blew out the candles and waited until Monique walked through the door before closing herself inside the darkened office. A lonely melody from Magnus’s piano trickled over her skin. Rémi sighed, climbed the small steps to the back bedroom. Tomorrow, she thought, opening the door, I need to air this place out.