by Fiona Zedde
"Is the book you're working on essays or fiction?" Sinclair asked.
"Essays, of course. I could never get the hang of fiction. Too many lies." Regina leaned down and licked Sinclair's nipple. Her breath caught. "You're very responsive. I like that." Regina bent to show her just how much she liked it.
Chapter 2
t lunchtime Sinclair looked with distaste at the apple .she'd brought for lunch. She wasn't looking forward to takeout either.
The phone buzzed. "Miss Sinclair?"
"Yes, Shelly?"
"You have a visitor. Ms. Velasquez."
A smile replaced her grimace. "Send her in. And go ahead and take your lunch now."
Regina walked in, delectable in a salmon-colored Yves Saint Laurent suit that came barely halfway down her thighs, and closed the door. She held a picnic basket in a manicured hand.
"I knew you did something expensive for the company," Regina drawled as she took in the plush carpeting, the dizzying view of the street, and smog-dimmed sunlight arcing through the large windows. "Hope you haven't eaten yet." She didn't wait for a response. Instead she set up a blanket on the floor, laid out wineglasses, a plate piled high with sliced fruit and tiny sandwiches with the crusts meticulously cut off. "Come."
Sinclair kicked off her shoes and obediently sat down on the blanket. Getting used to their intimacy now, she slid her hands in Regina's heavy hair and inhaled her scent. Today it was Lalique laced with a hint of sweetness-peach-scented soap-and underneath that her own spicy ginger scent.
"It's good to see you," Sinclair said. All day her senses had been alive with expectation. Waiting for this moment, even though its coming had never been a certainty.
Regina poured from a bottle of pinot noir. "I have a meeting later on this afternoon with my editor. I figured, why not steal some fun out of this business trip downtown?"
Sinclair smiled. "Do you come downtown often?" She felt like a fifteenyear-old on her first date, giddy and obscenely happy.
"If you'll let me, I'll come at least two times today." She sipped her wine and met Sinclair's gaze. The accountant's nipples pebbled noticeably under her blouse.
"Have a sandwich," said Regina. "I bought them myself. The ones on white bread are chicken salad, the wheat are tuna."
Sinclair nibbled on a chicken salad sandwich though she could have easily put the tiny square in her mouth whole. Regina dropped a slice of strawberry in her wineglass and bit into another.
"Your secretary is a sexy little thing. Have you fucked her yet?" Her eyes teased Sinclair. She knew very well that she was the only woman Sinclair had slept with. But maybe she didn't. Maybe she assumed that just because she fucked indiscriminately that everyone else did too.
"No," Sinclair said. "Not yet."
Regina's eyebrows peaked. "So does that mean you've thought about it?"
"Of course. Shelly has a beautiful body. Her breasts are the perfect size. Who wouldn't think about being with her?" Sinclair was playing a dangerous game. If there was one thing she knew about Regina already it was that she liked a challenge. Sinclair didn't put it past her to invite Shelly in to join them. She hoped that her secretary had already left for lunch.
"Really. What about my breasts?" She unbuttoned her blouse and left it open to frame her smooth caramel skin in foam green silk. She didn't wear a bra. She didn't have to. Her breasts were like two alert sentries, brown tipped and hard. Done with her posing, Regina slid off her blouse and crawled to where Sinclair sat.
"Are these the perfect size?" She straddled Sinclair, moving closer until her small breasts were a mere breath away from her lover's mouth. Her skirt rode up until it barely covered her ass.
"They're perfect." Sinclair leaned in to kiss a nipple, but Regina pulled away. "Let me see yours first."
Hadn't she seen them enough yesterday? Still, Sinclair quickly pulled off her blouse and bra.
"Eager, aren't you? Lie down." She grinned down at Sinclair. "Now, these are perfect. They only need one thing to make them to my taste." She slowly emptied her glass of wine over Sinclair's chest, dribbling the pale cool liquid down her collarbone and the hard brown nipples. Sinclair gasped at the sensation of cold then moaned at the first touch of Regina's mouth. The smaller woman's tongue, like wet velvet, slid over her sensitized breasts. Regina licked her until all the wine was gone from her skin, then she crushed a strawberry in her fist and dripped the juice over Sinclair's lips. Sinclair opened her mouth to lick at the red drops, thirsty for anything that Regina had to give.
Regina kissed her once, a hungry sweep of her mouth that took away most of the red liquid and whetted Sinclair's appetite. Then she pulled Sinclair's skirt up to her waist and pulled her panties completely off.
"One day I'm going to train you not to wear these things." She mashed the pulpy remains of the strawberry against Sinclair's cunt and started to eat.
A surprised breath left Sinclair's throat. Her skin goosepimpled in a hot flush and she blinked uncontrollably at the ceiling as her body went up in flames under Regina's ruthless mouth. Deep inside, she trembled. The muscles in her thighs groaned as she whimpered, burned, and pushed herself more firmly against her lover. No one had ever.... Breath hissed past her teeth as all thought left her. She became animal and seeking, a needy thing caught in the twisting vines of Regina's desire. Against her flesh, Regina laughed.
She walked out of Sinclair's office nearly forty minutes later, her blanket folded neatly on top of the picnic basket, her clothes and hair in perfect order. Sinclair, however, was a trembling mess. Even after a quick shower in her tiny attached washroom, and a cup of herbal tea, her fingers still refused to hit the right keys on the computer. Eventually she gave up and spent the next hour staring out the window and trying unsuccessfully to keep the smile from her face.
Chapter 3
i arly Sunday morning the phone woke Sinclair. "Yes?" she croaked.
"Meet me at Francesco's for breakfast in an hour." The dial tone punctuated the unexpected command.
She sat up, rubbing her face. Then she realized what this meant. Regina could play with her this weekend. Within less than an hour Sinclair was showered, shaved, and waiting at a corner table in the neighborhood restaurant when Regina walked in.
"'Morning, sexy." Regina's eyes wandered with approval over Sinclair's blue floral sundress with its cleavage-enhancing neckline.
When she sat down, Sinclair pulled Regina's head briefly to hers for a kiss. She tasted like strawberry lip gloss.
"I hope that wasn't too presumptuous of me." Regina tucked her purse under the table. "But I woke up thinking about you this morning, so . . ." Her eyes twinkled.
The restaurant was small and well lit. Even though they sat in a corner, sun poured liberally over their table. It was like being on the sidewalk without the constant intrusion of people or traffic. Shelly had once recommended the place to Sinclair.
"I think I can handle that." Sinclair's belly danced, fluttering at Regina's attentions. The other woman's powerful and commanding personality was charming, something Sinclair could never stand in a man but now she found it inexplicably arousing.
"The Bloody Marys here are amazing," Regina murmured, pulling her chair closer to Sinclair's. "What are you having?" she asked.
"Eggs and toast." Sinclair couldn't eat anything else with her around. She was too stimulated. Her hands trembled against the tablecloth.
"Have at least one drink with that. It'll spice up your morning." She draped her arm over Sinclair's chair.
Awash in sunlight, Sinclair's skin tingled, begging to be touched. As if Regina had read her mind, Sinclair felt a hand on her knee.
The restaurant was crowded. Jaded urban animals, still hung over from last night's debauches, drooped over their drinks. Their faces were gray from having been forced to face the light of day so early. There were some people who'd traveled in just to go to the fairly popular restaurant. Excited chatter rolled side by side with low growls of reluctant conversation. Reg
ina's fingers traced the skin on the inside of Sinclair's thigh.
"How was your night?" Regina asked.
"Good. I had a long bath, watched Bully reruns, and even read a little."
"Anything of mine?"
"No." She was such an egomaniac.
"Too bad. I was hoping you'd fall asleep thinking about me."
"That was the night before that." Sinclair met her eyes across the table.
Satisfied, Regina sat back. Her fingers traveled higher, brushing the lace edge of the panties Sinclair had worn just for her.
"I don't do too much on Friday nights either. After a little red wine, all I ever want to do is write."
"What? No research? I thought your search for more knowledge on your subject matter was limitless."
"You're right. My curiosity has no bounds." Her eyes flickered to Sinclair's mouth. "But one has to take some time to write down the results of all one's tireless research."
"Of course, silly me."
A waitress in low-rider jeans and a rainbow belly ring came over to take their order. Sinclair was vaguely surprised that Regina let the young girl go without trying to chat her up.
"Silly, never." Her long fingers lightly touched Sinclair through her panties then, after a teasing stroke, disappeared. "Other things, absolutely."
Sinclair took a deep drink of water.
"What kind of women do you like, Sinclair?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't given it much thought."
"Yeah, you have. Don't bullshit me." It was strange to see her elegant mouth shape that curse word. In the sweat of the bedroom, it was OK. Here in the restaurant it was raw, surprising.
She thought of the woman she'd most imagined touching. At Volk, while meetings dragged on, she'd imagined Margo Phelps fucking her until she screamed out the year-end financial goals to the whole building. Margo, Sinclair was convinced, was a closet lesbian, too, with her broad shoulders and short fingernails.
"Powerful women." She grinned, feeling bold. "Women with apple-sized breasts and high, round asses."
"Crab apple or Gala?"
Sinclair glanced at the other woman's breasts. "Granny Smith." They shared a naughty smile.
The waitress came back with a plate of artfully arranged toast and eggs and a pitcher of Bloody Marys. Regina poured a tall glass for each of them.
"A toast." She lifted her glass. "To apples."
Sinclair giggled. "To apples."
They went through two pitchers of Bloody Marys together, lifting their glasses to toast various parts of the female anatomy until all they had to work with were toes and hair follicles. Sinclair barely touched her food.
"You're very beautiful," Sinclair said over the fifth glass of her morning cocktail. "The first time I saw you I was totally thrown for a loop."
Regina laughed. "Was it the ass or witty repartee?"
"Neither. It was your mouth. It's so ... damn sexy," Sinclair's thoughts swam in her brain, mostly remaining out of reach. The words that came out of her mouth didn't seem to have any forethought attached to them. "The ass came later. When you were walking out of the elevator."
"My ass has been known to drop many a woman to her knees."
"Mm, can we practice that one again later?"
"We can practice it right now. They have nice big bathroom stalls here."
"OK, let's go." Sinclair stood up.
"I'm just kidding, honey." Regina pulled her back down with a soft tug and a laugh. "There's time enough for that later." She looked at her watch. "There's something else I want to show you today."
Sinclair leaned forward with childlike enthusiasm. "Is it a surprise?"
"Yes. Are you ready?"
Sinclair drained her glass in long, luxurious gulps. "Now I am."
Regina drove them in her Mercedes to a warehouse near the wharf. The sun slid over the wooden boxes and pallets in haphazard piles, making them almost beautiful. Quiet hung in the air. As they walked toward the single electronic door, it began to rise with a series of clangs and squeaks. As soon as they walked through it, the door started to lower. It hit the concrete floor with a loud bang, then a sound came out of the darkness, a fumbling of keys as if someone were locking it, locking them in.
"What is this?" Sinclair asked.
"You'll see."
Regina took Sinclair's hand in reassurance, then let go. An arrow of light from a high window led them to another room, or maybe it was a corner of the larger room. Sinclair couldn't tell. She couldn't see. But she could smell things. Oil from a car or large equipment. The scent of women and sex and baby powder. Regina led her up a flight of steep stairs.
Sinclair's head swam, but was getting clearer by the minute. Soft light flooded the room.
"We're here," Regina called out in a light teasing voice. Laughter greeted her announcement as women-tall, short, white, Asian, black, Latina-suddenly began emerging from the corners, all wearing some bit of lingerie or other.
"And we're ready," a tall woman chuckled, walking up to kiss Regina softly on her mouth. Her ebony skin gleamed in the faint light.
Sinclair counted five women. They looked at her and Regina with various degrees of amusement and anticipation.
"Is that all, Reggie?" the ebony queen asked.
"Is that all? Ha! You don't know what I've got." To Sinclair, Regina said, "Don't worry. You'll enjoy this."
A tall Asian woman with short hair clipped close to her head walked toward the trio. "You haven't told her what's going on?"
"And ruin the surprise? Of course not."
A few of the women laughed, low and predatory sounds that made Sinclair shudder in the warm warehouse.
Regina squeezed her hand again. "It'll be fine," she whispered.
Then at a signal from her, the women converged on Sinclair, pulling her deeper into the warehouse, where there was more light and what looked like a large sitting room with a mishmash of chairs and tables. A high platform bed with white sheets sat in the middle of the room.
"Come, make yourself comfortable," someone said.
As if Sinclair was being given a choice. They tugged her over to a leather Queen Anne chair the color of fresh blood and started pulling at her clothes, sweetly, if one could describe forced stripping as such, while looking at her with their heavy-lidded eyes. Regina stood a few feet away, watching, smiling.
"This is going to be fine," she mouthed. At least she would enjoy it.
"You've got pretty skin," a voluptuous woman said with a slight Spanish accent. Her long black hair tumbled over Sinclair as she leaned close. It smelled like cloves.
"Look at those fingers." The Asian woman smiled at Sinclair. "They're so long."
"She's skinny but still cute."
The woman with skin the color of night stroked Sinclair's face. "You could have been a model, baby."
"Or a stripper. Look at those hips. I bet you could bump and grind real good." The tall butchy woman with pale caramel skin wearing tight white boxers and a hacked-off tank top pulled Sinclair's dress over her head. She winked when she saw Sinclair looking. Her muscled belly pressed briefly against the accountant's cheek. Sinclair could smell her cologne and the spicy scent coming from inside her shorts.
"Gorgeous tits." Cool fingers brushed Sinclair's nipples. They let her keep on her panties.
"Can we tie her up?" This from a woman with brown hair and a soft, touchable body.
"No. Not yet." Regina still watched, still smiled.
Sinclair shivered in anticipation and fear. What had she gotten herself into? She didn't even know this woman. Did Regina even work for Volk? That was probably a fake name anyway. Why-?
The Asian woman pulled her clothes off, revealing a pleasing blend of soft breasts, lean belly, and narrow hips that were barely hidden by a low-cut bikini. She blew Sinclair a kiss and took off the bikini. Sinclair felt herself blush and she looked down, away from the woman's body.
"She's sweet," someone said.
"We'll fix that before th
e day is through."
Regina chuckled. "Open up your eyes, honey, the real show hasn't even started yet."
Sinclair had watched Regina perform in bed before, touched herself to some inner music only she heard. But this was nothing like that. These women were strangers. Sinclair was terrified, yet intrigued in a way that Regina must have known she would be.
"I'd never introduce you to anything that I thought you wouldn't be ready for," she'd said to Sinclair once. She should have paid attention to whatever else Regina had said that day.
The Asian woman was the only one naked. Everyone stayed in their provocative clothes-ripped denim shorts that sagged over boxers or bare skin, this season's Victoria's Secret panties and matching bra, lace negligee and bare feet. All on bodies that ran the gamut from full and fleshy to hard and toned, then back again.
"Watch."
They started to perform for Sinclair. Or rather, for Regina. Sinclair was just an incidental observer. The brown-haired woman touched the hard-bodied angel in the boxer shorts and ripped tank. She brushed her lace-covered breasts against Hard Body's back and was rewarded with a hand on her ass and a kiss. Breasts touched breasts through cloth, then fingers brushed the lace negligee aside for lips to kiss the revealed nipple. Hard Body quickly rid the other woman of her clothes. A tattoo of entwined, lushly green ivy wound all the way around the voluptuous woman's waist. Sinclair's panties suddenly felt too tight, too wet.
"You like?" Regina stood at Sinclair's chair, her mouth curved in that smile, clothes on, like the director of the show. Sinclair didn't know what to say. But her body was interested.
Regina looked down at Sinclair's hardened nipples and smirked. "I'll let you get back to it." Then she stepped back.
The women converged on the bed and on each other. Naked now, Hard Body sat down on the bed, and spread her legs for Ivy. She was shaved, with small and delicate lips that Ivy breathed over then began to lick. Even from where Sinclair sat she could see that Hard Body was already wet. Venus with the long black hair and heavy breasts sat higher up on the bed, watching as she stroked herself, caressed her thick brown nipples while her mouth opened in a delighted 0. She knelt just above Hard Body's head, close enough for her to smell and see, but not touch. Hard Body groaned and arched her pussy up toward the tattooed woman's mouth.
