by Sandy Lowe
“Excuse me, but are you Emery?” The bartender waved me over after I nodded in surprise. “You have a phone call.”
I reached out for the black receiver she handed me.
“Emery speaking.”
“I thought I’d find you there.”
I smiled at Madison’s northern accent. “Are you done with your meeting?”
“It was hard to concentrate. I kept thinking about all the deliciousness that happened down on the beach. My staff took over the meeting.”
Her voice lowered. I closed my eyes and drummed up my memory from a few short hours ago.
“But yes. I am done. Want to come up for a bit and keep me company?”
I almost dropped the receiver. I cleared my throat.
“Definitely.” I handed the phone back to the bartender, slapped a twenty on the bar, and headed for the hotel elevators. When the doors closed, I smoothed down my hair, popped a tiny mint in my mouth, and mentally urged the elevator to climb faster. When it dinged, indicating I was at the fifth floor, I took a deep breath and casually, just in case she or anybody could see me, strolled to her room. Outside her door, I one-knuckle knocked. She opened the door wearing a large fluffy white hotel robe. It wasn’t sexy but I knew she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She was fresh from the shower and I was anxious to touch her again, but I held myself in check and waited to see if she would make the first move. Again.
“You look really nice.” She looked me over from head to toe with a lingering look in my crotch region. My pants were loose, but the indentation was there. She smiled and looked back into my eyes. “Really, really nice. Would you like a drink?”
“I had one down at the bar. I’m good for now.” I sat down on the chair and watched her pour herself a brandy. Her hands were steady and there was a hint of cockiness in her smile.
“I seem to drink more when I’m away from home.”
She sat on the small love seat across from me and tucked her legs underneath her. The sash on her robe loosened a little with every move she made. By the time we got to the boring conference and her topics for tomorrow, the gap around her cleavage had increased. I could see the curve of the underside of her breast. Her stomach was flat and her skin as pale as marble. She knew I looked. We both knew why I was there. This was foreplay.
“I like a good stiff drink to relax before bed. And tomorrow is going to be a full day, so I need a lot of sleep tonight.”
“Is that my cue to leave?” I stood and smoothed out the front of my pants, knowing full well she was staring and could see the outline of my cock. She leaned forward and put her feet on the floor. We were three feet apart. She crooked her finger at me. I obliged and stood directly in front of her.
“I don’t think either one of us wants you to leave.” She ran her hands up my thighs, over my hips, and back down.
“You’re so right about that,” I managed to croak out. I didn’t recognize my own voice.
When she brushed her hand across my package, I moaned at the quick pressure on my clit. I was still swollen from earlier.
“This is what I’ve been thinking about.” She leaned forward and unzipped my pants, leaving my top button alone. My boxer briefs bulged out and my hips swayed against her stroking. I pushed her open robe off her shoulders. She whimpered in disappointment when I pulled away from her touch and dropped to my knees instead.
“You can touch me later, but right now, I need you.” Madison was perfect. Petite, fit, and waxed. I ran my hands up her thighs and spread them. Her pussy glistened with want. I leaned forward and tasted her. Her hands found the back of my neck immediately and held me in place. Madison didn’t want me to tease. She wanted to fuck. My need escalated while my mouth administered to her delicious pussy.
“Make me come, then fuck me.”
She wasn’t quiet. For a moment, I was afraid the neighbors were going to complain, but I honestly had no idea how much time had passed since I arrived. It could have been minutes; it could have been over an hour. The best way to lose track of time was in the delicate folds between a beautiful woman’s legs. She hooked the back of her knees over my shoulders and kept me close. Her hips rocked against my mouth. She was doing most of the work. That was okay, for now; for this orgasm. She gave me just enough room for me to slip my hand between us and slide a finger inside her wet, tight center. Her moaning increased and her hips moved in small circles as she climbed her way to her orgasm. I looked up at her because I wanted to watch her face when she came. Her mouth was open, her arms restrained by the robe that rested around her elbows, and her breasts swayed with her movements. She opened her eyes, and her distant and fierce look locked with my determined one and she cried out with release. When her legs relaxed on my shoulders, I gently lowered them to the floor and stood. The only time her eyes left mine was to watch me slip my cock out of my boxers. She licked her lips with anticipation and adjusted her body so she was lengthwise on the love seat. She hooked one leg on the back of it, and one leg wrapped around mine and pulled me toward her.
“Don’t make me wait.”
Her skin was flushed from the heat of the moment with most of the pink resting in her cheeks and the soft area above her breasts. I ran my hands along her tiny waist and up to her breasts. I leaned forward and licked her nipple before shoving as much of her breast into my mouth as I could.
“Bite,” she hissed.
I wanted to sink my teeth into her flesh, mar her marble white skin per her erotic request, but she was too smooth, too perfect, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The look of disappointment was clear, but I knew it would be replaced with ecstasy soon enough. I held the back of her neck, my face inches from her, and held my fingers up to her lips. She sucked three of my fingers into her mouth, her tongue erotically moistening each one. I pulled them out and rubbed them on the fleshy, hard silicone that pressed against my clit. It was my turn. With my hand still on the back of her neck, I held her in place and slid into her drenched pussy. She was tighter than I thought, the resistance pushing back into me giving me more pleasure than I was ready for. I gritted my teeth and willed myself not to come.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I exhaled against her mouth.
“This feels better than you could possibly know.”
I watched her expression change from a pinch of discomfort to pure pleasure. Once I felt her body relax and accept the girth, I moved inside her. I wanted to go slowly, tease myself a little, but she was too excited, too needy to let me set the pace. She wrapped her legs around my hips and moved against me, with me, watching me, her mouth open, moans of pleasure with each thrust. Sweat beaded on my neck and my hairline. I wasn’t going to last. It was my first night in Mexico. I still had three more. Her nails scraped my stomach as she grabbed for me and pulled me closer. She pushed me almost all the way out of her and let me slam back in. I roared out my orgasm after I felt the sting of her nails against my rib cage. Even though I was sensitive and my energy was drained, I fucked her until her body tightened against mine and shuddered in pleasure.
I couldn’t have expected a better first night in Mexico. I rested my head against the armrest of the love seat and took a minute to catch my breath. Her fingertips fluttered up my back and linked together at the base of my neck. I felt her lips press against my cheek.
“Well, I’m completely relaxed.”
We both chuckled. I slipped out of her and sat back on the love seat after adjusting my clothes. I ran my hand through my hair and gave a sigh of utter contentment. She didn’t move. She stayed where I left her, splayed open and completely satiated. I ran my fingers lazily up and down her calves and couldn’t help but reach up to touch her smooth, somewhat swollen pussy.
“That makes two of us. I’m glad I took your suitcase,” she said.
“I am, too. Although it’s okay about the suitcase. Mistakes happen,” I said.
She reached for the glass of whiskey on the table beside us and smiled at me over the rim.
&n
bsp; “I never said it was a mistake.”
Like a Flash Flood
T.C. Mill
T.C. Mill is a writer and owner of a small editing business in the Midwest (one answer to the question “What do you do with a philosophy degree?”). Her stories have been published by Circlet Press, Mofo Publishing, and in Cleis’s Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, vol. 2.
“Yes,” Kim said cheerfully. “I know what it looks like.”
Rosa heard the smile in her voice as her girlfriend led the way in.
“It’s called a slot canyon.”
Rosa was too dry and breathless to speak. She fell back a few steps to take it all in—yes, the two masses of rock, rusty peach and rose-brown whorls that looked almost soft in their undulating erosions, swept like the spread of full thighs, coming together, parted only by an intimate gap that led deep into the distance. The image had a certain crude, yet sensual, resemblance.
Also, in this position it framed a great view of Kim’s ass, the way it pressed against her shorts as she strode right in.
All in all, it offered some compensation for an hour and a half of hiking across the Colorado Plateau. They’d left the car, streaked with orange-ish dust except for the half-moon cleared by the windshield wipers, in a parking lot at a labeled trailhead. That, aside from the regularly stacked rock cairns marking the trail, had been their last sight of any work of human hands. For the first hour, Rosa hadn’t missed it. The desert had a strange charisma, a sort of clean beauty made of absence. No buildings, no other people, and far fewer plants than she was used to. The sharp, late-morning sunset had flattened colors into pastels. For long stretches there was little more than sand—sharper-edged than the Florida beaches she was used to—and wind-sculpted rock, dotted here and there by determined growth. Sagebrush quivered with a sea foam of mint-green and silver leaves. The scent was much more savory than mint, though. Its pungency still lingered in her nostrils, along with the strangely pleasant scent of hot stone.
All of this shimmered under a turquoise sky so high that looking up at it induced vertigo, as if she was going to lose her footing and plummet toward the mountains in the distance.
Whenever she saw a mirage back in Florida, she’d slow down in case it was a real sign of high water flooding into the road. Here, mirages made Rosa walk faster, lured by the mere idea of an oasis, by the dance of glistening surfaces.
In much the same way, she followed after Kim’s khaki-clad backside. Her white cotton shirt clung to her body, almost transparent with sweat, showing the flex of muscles in her shoulders, the curve of her waist.
“Love the view,” Rosa panted.
“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Kim glanced back, grinning in a way that suggested she knew exactly what Rosa meant.
To be fair, Rosa hadn’t exactly been rhapsodizing about her love of the desert. The hour-plus walk hadn’t been enough time to determine whether she really liked being in it at all, or if it was the kind of thing she’d prefer to admire on a screen, or maybe via a nice photo for March in calendars from the Sierra Club. Now her spirits started to measurably lift. In the shade of the high canyon walls, it was at least ten degrees cooler—still comfortably warm. Out there, it had been so hot that there were stretches of time when it stopped feeling hot. A layer of sweat would bead on her skin only to be pulled into the air, licked away by the pressure of the intense sun. An occasional wind swept down, tossing the sagebrush, carrying its scent, and pulling at her shirt and hat brim without providing any relief. It was a dry heat, but so was an oven.
The wind changed here in the canyon, too. It sounded less hollow, more musical, a high, singing whisper over the striated curves of rock. When it stopped, there was only the rasp of their footsteps, Kim’s deep, steady breathing ahead of her, and the blood rushing in Rosa’s ears. It rushed under her cheeks as Kim stopped to rest, leaning against a sandstone swell like the curve of a woman’s hip. Her hand trailed over its surface in a way that was highly distracting.
They’d both been wearing hats and sunglasses on the walk. Kim’s was denim with magenta applique blossoms, a cheery banner to follow. She pulled it off, sweeping a hand through her raven-black hair, then used it to gesture down the trail ahead. “What do you think?”
The canyon wiggled more than curved, so Rosa could see a long way forward: the lips of rock narrowing and widening overhead, the sandy floor dotted here and there with stone outcrops, some of them cracked. The walls, though, stretched on, looking smooth as folded velvet. They were shapes that suggested faces, fists with gesturing fingers, or even, maybe, breasts, while above them sandstone bridges reached across like arms and shafts of light fell to illuminate the more shadowed hollows. There wasn’t a patch of green anywhere except for the rare glimpse of a branch beyond the canyon rim, but everything was drenched in golden sun and almost glowing against a background of distant sky.
“I’m speechless,” Rosa said. “Kimiko Okada, you have outdone yourself.” She put an arm around Kim’s shoulders and felt her girlfriend’s body mold to hers.
“I mean, I didn’t sculpt it myself or anything, but I admit I’m a good hand at MapQuest.” Her hands were good at other things, too, as they reminded Rosa in a return grip.
“I’m glad you suggested coming out here.”
As strange and sometimes testing as their trek across the desert had been, this was worth it. And she’d been glad, too, to get out of the condo. It had been generous of the Okadas to let them use it—Kim’s grandpa was recovering well from his surgery, but he had a lot of physical therapy ahead before he could travel from Maryland again and they hadn’t wanted their weeks at the timeshare to go to waste. Still, every morning in the place made Rosa feel she was out of her element, and not just because of the looks that sometimes came from the mostly retirement-age, mostly white tourists who made up the vacation community’s primary residents.
The condo itself felt subtly unreal. Its walls were painted with a texture that made them look like adobe but weren’t. Inside it was cool, but at all hours you could hear the air conditioning working for it. Tired of the strained whine, Rosa suggested to Kim that they turn it down, letting more of the heat in. Stinting on climate control could be the most sensuous kind of asceticism she knew—an excuse to strip down to the bare minimum, leisurely sipping iced drinks on the sofa together. After all, they were no strangers to warm weather. Yet she found she missed the humidity. The place left her feeling not pleasurably sleepy but sapped, drained during the day and restless at night when the temperatures dropped. She’d toss and turn in bed until the sheets were left in obscene-looking ruffles.
Oh, and the condo had only twin beds. For all its outdoor shower, feature windows, fancy upholstery, and big-screen TV, that was a drawback.
But she wasn’t here to complain, not with Kim nesting in her arms and the scent of her hair blowing against Rosa’s face, and not with such a breathtaking view. Only the itch to see more got them to finally ease up on the embrace and continue walking.
For a while they held hands when the canyon’s architecture allowed it. At other points things became so narrow they had to squeeze through single file or clamber over rocks. Rosa had to duck once when the walls curved in low or risk losing her hat. She followed Kim’s lead and took it off, stuffing it in a pouch in her backpack. They were mostly protected in the shade here anyway—when she squinted up, she caught slim flashes of blue; the only evidence of sun came in the gleaming glow dancing on the undulating stone and gilding the dust hanging in the air.
She kept being caught up by the light. “It looks familiar here,” Rosa said. “Like I’ve seen pictures. But it’s much more beautiful in person.”
“Probably Antelope Canyon,” Kim said. “It’s a famous spot on Navajo Nation land near Lake Powell down in Arizona. It came to mind, too, when I checked out possible day trips for us, but aside from being closer this place has one major advantage.”
“Yeah?”
Leaning close, she whispered, “No ot
her tourists.”
Rosa chuckled, even as she shivered from the touch of Kim’s breath. “Good point.”
There wasn’t a person or an antelope in sight, no birds crossing the thin river of sky visible overhead, not even a rattlesnake in the shadows underfoot. Combined with the lack of plants, it made the canyon feel austere in its solitude, and all the rarer for it. Like a lunar vacation—though much warmer than the surface of the moon, and not quite as airless. No, Rosa was breathless for a different reason.
She slipped an arm around Kim’s waist again. “It is nice to be undisturbed.”
“I like getting lost with you.”
“Oh, don’t say that.” Her grip squeezed tighter until Kim wiggled—-half teasing, half seeking reassurance in their body contact. “You’re the one who printed out the map!”
They were way out of cell phone range now, relying entirely on her girlfriend’s preparations. And yeah, it made her nervous—but excited, too.
“It needed to be a surprise! You asked me for one.”
“I did.” Her hold settled into a more comfortable posture. “And you delivered.”
Kim twisted in her arms to pull a ChapStick out of her backpack, as if to prove how thorough her preparations had been. After applying it, she pursed her lips in a way too tempting for Rosa to resist.
“Mmm,” Rosa said, tongue darting out to lick her own lips. “Strawberry.”
“Want some more?”
This kiss deepened. She was glad they’d taken their hats off as their hands tangled in each other’s hair, the slight pull of Kim’s fingers sending an electric pleasure through Rosa’s scalp. She leaned back against the rock behind her, which tapered enough to provide support; she felt its sunbaked heat through her shorts and barely noticed because of the heat already growing there. She wanted to keep Kim here, kissing her, until her ass went numb.