Inn on the Edge

by Gail Bridges

  “Mmm…” I said, more a sigh than anything else. “This is nice.”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  We lay like that, spooning, at peace, listening to Josh’s sleep sounds. After a while she smoothed my hair over my shoulders and snuggled even closer.

  “Angie,” she said, “it’s not just Mr. Abiba. I like you too.”

  My insides lurched. I grinned, although she couldn’t see it. “Me too. I like you too.”

  She kissed me again.

  I drifted in a beautiful netherworld of not wanting to fall asleep so I could see what came next because, obviously, something wonderful and exciting was brewing between us. But at the very same time, I yearned to cuddle with her, sleep with her, female back to female belly, neither of us moving a muscle for the next six hundred years. At least the next six hundred years. I wanted both things. Although when it came right down to it, if I had to choose, I’d rather stay awake to see what came next. Because that tingling in my middle was more persistent with every passing minute and it was slowly changing character. It wasn’t a tingling anymore, not really. It was more of a boiling.

  “I just wanted you to know,” Zenith whispered.

  I smiled into my pillow and pulled her arm tighter around my middle. “Thanks.”

  “Are you tired?” she asked after a while.

  I thought about it. “A little, yeah. Mostly I feel…curious. You know.”

  “Ah. You’ve never done this before.”

  “No.”

  The word settled between us, full of potential, full of longing.

  She hugged me closer. “You’ve never been with a woman? Never?” As if I’d missed out on some basic need, as if I were some poor soul who’d never tasted chocolate ice cream, not once.

  I shook my head in the darkness, knowing she could feel it.

  She didn’t say anything. I waited, feeling her chest rise and fall with her slow, even breathing. Then her lips brushed the back of my neck, at the hairline, at that place that always makes me melt. She nuzzled me for a long moment. The words, when they came, were so quiet I could hardly hear them. “But you want to. Right?”

  I nodded, holding my breath.

  “You want to make love to me.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “And you’re feeling up to it?”

  I took her hand, playing for a moment with her long fingers with their sweet round nails like flower petals, then placed it on my rapidly hardening nipple, answering her question.

  “You are feeling better, aren’t you?” she said softly. “But you didn’t see what I saw back in the Fine Arts Room. Hmmm…” She ran her finger around my areola. “Should I take your word that you’re ready for me? That you can take what I want to give you?” She rolled my nipple between her thumb and finger, making me bite my lip. “I mean, I don’t want to send you into another seizure.” She placed a line of delicate, sweet kisses under my ear, adding shivers to what was already fully melted inside me.

  “Yes! I mean no! You won’t—I won’t! I’m fine.”

  Just how inarticulate could a person be? But Zenith didn’t notice my sudden difficulty with the English language. In fact she seemed to enjoy it. The warm tide rose in my belly as she nibbled at my earlobe. Almost of its own accord, my pelvis moved toward her, pressing my butt into her mound. I shuddered, wanting more.

  So much more.

  “What about Josh?” she asked, doing wonderful things to my breast, cupping it in her hand, pressing it this way and that, playing with it.

  That’s right—what about Josh?

  I tried to remember. Hadn’t Josh and I spoken about this very possibility? About—I shivered—me and Zenith, together? We had discussed it, I was sure of it, and Josh had given his blessing if the opportunity arose. Then why couldn’t I dredge up the memory? Or remember his exact words? It must have something to do with my seizure, or whatever it had been, in the Fine Arts Room. It didn’t matter. I knew what I knew. Josh had given his approval.

  “It’s okay,” I said, nestling even farther into the haven of Zenith’s warm body, making up my mind to enjoy myself with her, to go for it, knowing it was the right decision. “He can join us if he wakes up.”

  “We’ll let him sleep,” Zenith decided. She kissed a trail down my neck and onto the top of my spine. “This will be about you and me. About us.”

  “I like that. But we’ll have to be real quiet. So Josh won’t wake up.”

  She kissed the side of my neck, then my cheek. “Like mice.”

  “Quieter,” I said, “mice are too loud.”

  Her hand left my breast and wandered down my middle. “Are they?” she whispered, finding the hem of my nightgown and hiking it up around my waist. “I had no idea. Let’s get this piece of fabric out of the way, shall we?”

  I mumbled my assent.

  Yes! Yes! Get rid of it!

  In one swift motion I turned over, un-spooning us. I sat up and pulled my nightgown over my head. I tossed it into the corner, where all good clothes belong. Zenith slipped out of her pajamas and I got my first full view of those nice little breasts with their dark nipples. She had almost no areolas, as opposed to me, whose areolas are as big as saucers.

  Oh my god, they’re so pretty!

  I laughed silently at myself—since when had I been such a breast girl? Then, for the first time ever, I touched.

  And I liked.

  Zenith leaned back on her elbows with her eyes closed, letting me explore her delicious curves with my hands and then with my tongue, letting me pull her nipple into my mouth and suck and suck and suck, letting me draw the outline of her bumpy nipple with my sensitive tongue and most of all letting me feel what it was like to give to her what I’d so often received from Josh.

  She kissed the top of my head, sighing happily. “You are a goddamn natural, Angie Taylor,” she whispered, her hand resting warmly on my mound, her hair falling on my back, blessing our union.

  I felt like a natural.

  Two women, exploring each other’s bodies. What could be more natural than that?

  “Lie down,” she whispered.

  I did, my heart pounding. I looked up at her.

  Slowly, taking her time, she worked a foot between my feet. Oh! Then she pressed her knee between my knees. Oh! Oh! Then she reached under me and cupped my butt cheek in her hot little hand and began to knead it, causing other, more sensitive parts of me to tremble with desire. Still fondling my ass, she kissed my neck again.

  I gasped.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  I pressed close to her, so close. Her hand roamed under me, from butt cheek to butt cheek, driving me insane.

  I was more turned-on than I’d ever been in my life.

  Zenith.

  Pretty Zenith of the Burnt Sienna hair. My Zenith. I drew my fingers down the lock of her hair that trailed over my shoulder and suddenly I was racked with shudders. They rose from somewhere deep within me, swelling and powerful. I jerked in her arms, moaning. One touch of that wonderful hair and look what happened—I was this close to having an apex of mammoth proportions!

  Oh…my…god.

  Making love to Zenith—to a woman—was a revelation. It was so new, so breathtaking. I hadn’t expected to feel like a virgin again. To feel that first touch again. To wallow in the thrill of discovery. It didn’t matter that I’d had raging-hot sex with two invisible men not long before.

  Cascades, entire waterfalls of feeling coursed through me with Zenith’s every move.

  I writhed, moaned, whimpered.

  And she hadn’t even touched my cunt yet.

  “Try to be still, sweetie,” she whispered, asking the impossible. “You’ll wake up Josh. Can you do that? Can you be still? Should I stop?”

  “Yes, I can! No, don’t stop!”

  She inched her knee up, up, up, closer and closer to where I throbbed with need—who knew a knee could turn me on, that it could do such delightful things? She worked her knee between my
legs, opening me, spreading me, preparing me.

  Her breath in my ear, whispering. “You like that, sweetie? You want more of that?”

  “Yes! Yes!” I squealed. Then I turned my head to the side and buried my face in the pillow as she gently spread and raised my knees. Cool air brushed me, caressed me. I moaned, biting my lip as her hands made their way up my inner thighs. Oh, oh, oh! Must be quieter! Much more noise from me and Josh would wake up! But it was so hard—so hard! I wanted to shout and holler and yell. I wanted to scream my passion. To broadcast to the entire state of Washington that I’d just discovered a whole new world.

  And it was un-fucking-believable.

  But no. Mustn’t wake Josh. I screwed my eyes shut. I lifted my sex to her instead.

  What else could I do?

  I lay there barely breathing. Not thinking. Only feeling.

  Fingers, playing with me. Fingers, wandering through my pubic hair, tugging gently. Twisting, pulling, winding my curlies around themselves. Pulling the hair up, down, from side to side, and taking my clit along for the ride.

  “How about this?” she whispered. “You like this?”

  “Fuck yes!” I gasped. “This, I love!” Her breast was so close to my mouth. I reached for it with damp lips but missed.

  She laughed softly. “Oooh. You talk dirty. I like that in a girl.”

  I arched my back as her finger teased and flitted and danced, as it tickled and rubbed and flicked. My breath came in shallow puffs as every nerve of my body focused on that glorious finger. But it didn’t venture into me, into the place where I wanted it most, it only played around the edges. Go in! Go in! I silently begged, but that dastardly finger never dove in, never took the plunge.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” I said, trying to help her finger get inside me where it belonged by lifting my hips off the bed. It didn’t work. I reached for her hand but she shoved it away.

  “Likewise,” she answered, rubbing my clit.

  “I hate you,” I whispered, moaning.

  I felt her shoulders shake with silent laughter.

  A beautiful torment, but torment all the same. Zenith knew exactly what she was doing.

  Oh! Oh!

  We moved together, my Zenith and me. Her hand, my hips. Making the bed squeak.

  “Shhh…” she said, resting her cheek on mine. Her finger slowed.

  Josh mumbled in his sleep and threw his arm over his forehead.

  “Okay,” she whispered after a long, agonizing moment, “he didn’t wake up.”

  I howled into my pillow as Zenith lowered her mouth onto my breast, sucking and slurping and licking. Teething, even, just a little. The feeling that had started after I drank the tea, that started as a tingle and worked its way to the boiling point, now surged within me, skipping entire levels, moving all the way up to…what? Pressure-cooker level? Jet-engine level? Volcano level?

  More! I wanted more!

  “Finger? You like finger?” Her muffled words tickled my nipple.

  “Yes!”

  “More finger? Is that what you said? I couldn’t hear you.”

  “Yes! I said hell yes!”

  Slowly, so slowly, the finger at last worked its way inside me. I reached between my legs and pressed my hand over hers, helping it to go deeper.

  “Twofingers,” I begged. “Three fingers—please!”

  She tugged on my nipple, a smile on the corners of her mouth. The shameless tease. “Fine. How about an entire handful of fingers?”

  “Uh…uh…ungh!” Which, translated from Angie-having-sex-language, meant, Just do it already! Fuck me! Fuck me with those nice slender fingers! Shove them far, far up me!

  And then…

  She kneeled beside me and reached to the bedside basket for a tall white bottle. She squirted a large dollop of lubricant on her left hand. She rubbed the translucent liquid all over her hand and then…

  And then…

  Holy shit!

  A noise unlike any I’d ever made escaped my lips. Her fingers—all of them, held together in a neat, tight bundle—pressing, pressing, pressing…

  And me, helping…

  And Zenith, sucking on my breast…

  And me, locking my eyes on her magical hair as her hand moved at my cunt. I reached up and twined those glorious locks of Burnt Sienna in my fingers. Brought the hair to my mouth.

  Sucked on it.

  The bed shook with my shudders. How was Josh sleeping through this?

  And her hand, inside me now, all of it, fingers and thumb and knuckles, filling me, stretching me, making me more than I’d ever been before. Making me writhe in ecstasy. Then she did something new, something indescribably wonderful…she withdrew her hand, just a little. Or maybe she didn’t withdraw it at all? Maybe she only pulled on it? Whatever. She pulled. Then, leaning over me, breathing hard, she pushed her hand back in. Somewhat more forcefully.

  I gasped. My toes curled.

  Pull…push…pull…push…

  Pumping me in a wonderful sequence.

  Oh, oh…oh, oh…

  Rocking my body with her rhythmic motions. With every drive of her hand, a tiny gasp from me. And it hurt, just a little. How could it not? Which made it all the more wonderful.

  Zenith, fist-fucking me.

  I cried out.

  And Zenith, trying to swallow my breast.

  I moaned.

  And Zenith, touching herself between the legs with her free hand.

  And then I bit down on the hair in my mouth as my jaws clenched…

  Explosion! The volcano inside me blew apart into a thousand molten pieces. Raging, rampant, shattering. Cataclysmic heat streamed through my cunt, through my womb, spreading everywhere, working its way into legs, belly, breasts. I groaned and pumped my hips up and down, taking her hand along for the ride. Apex! What a perfect word to describe something so perfect! Earlier, with Vane, I hadn’t understood why we had to use the word, but now I did.

  I truly did.

  An apex was other. It was better. It was more than an orgasm.

  It was with Zenith. My Zenith.

  And herhand was inside me.

  I hadn’t known such a thing was possible. Amazing, but true. I could never have done this wonderful thing with big-handed, long-fingered, guitar-nailed Josh.

  The world could end right now, and I’d be happy.

  My breathtaking apex blossomed, glowed, lingered, then grew fuzzy around the edges. The heat receded slowly, leaving paths of shimmering brightness behind.

  I breathed, deep and long, feeling her inside me still.

  She slumped over and we lay there, the two of us. The three of us, actually, if you counted Josh, and you have to count Josh. Zenith’s hand still loved me but it was quiescent now, tender. She gave my nipple one last, sweet suck, then raised her head and smiled at me. I lifted my arm—how heavy it felt—and traced her top lip with my fingertip. She was flushed. There was a reddish patch above her breastbone that hadn’t been there before, and I loved her for that. Her hair fell over her face, making her more beautiful than she’d ever been. She was breathing almost as hard as I was. Had she apexed too?

  I smiled back.

  Carefully, gingerly, she withdrew her hand. Then she snuggled next to me in the bed, sighing. We pressed against one another, spooning again, just as we had before. She pulled up the blankets. Kissed me. Closed her eyes. Draped her arm over my shoulder and held my hand in hers, that marvel of a hand that had given me such pleasure. What a hand it was! I thought I might paint a study of that amazing, talented appendage.

  I smiled at the thought. No one but Zenith and me, and later Josh—and Mr. Abiba too, he seemed to know everything—would understand the significance.

  “Zenith,” I whispered, “did you…?”

  “Did I what?”

  “You know.”

  She chuckled. “What do youthink?”

  “I think you did.”

  She threw her leg over mine. She yawned. “Then you think ri
ght.”

  And then, satiated, twin female bodies in a three-person bed, we slept.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning when I woke up, Zenith was gone. It was Monday, although it felt as if we’d been there for weeks, not days. Josh and I awoke in each other’s arms in a blaze of North Tower sunlight.

  “Hey…” he said, kissing the top of my head. “How are you this morning, wife?”

  I smiled, loving the sound of it. Wife. I formed the word silently with my tongue and lips, over and over, until it almost lost meaning. Wife, wife, wife…wife. I was someone’s wife now. I put my hand on his stomach. “Hey yourself, husband.”

  He hugged me close. “Really. How are you? How’s your head?” He reached over and plucked a flower from the vase beside the bed. These particular flowers popped up all over the inn. They must be favorites of Mr. Abiba. Someone had refilled our two bedside vases yesterday and this new batch of flowers was still mostly in bud. The delicate little things were small and rose-like and grew in tight clusters on a thornless stem, but they weren’t roses. I didn’t know what they were exactly. I’d look them up after our honeymoon. Perhaps even plant some in our garden if I could find them in a nursery, as a reminder of our time here together. Josh tucked the stem behind my ear.

  I smiled. “Thanks. My head is fine.”

  “Sleep well?”

  I paused. “Um. Well. Zenith and I…”

  “Had raging-hot sex. Yes. I know.”

  I slipped from under his arm and sat up. “You know?”

  He laughed. “The bed was rocking. You were yowling. Did you really think I slept through that?”

  “But—”

  “Hey. You girls were having so much fun, I didn’t want to stop you. I peeked. Listened, mostly.” He scratched his cheek, looking bashful. “Masturbated a bit. You know.”

  I made a choking sound. “I didn’t know you were awake!”

  “You weren’t supposed to. I’m good at faking. Remember the arm on the forehead bit?”

  “You faked that?”

  He closed his eyes, let his mouth fall slack and slapped his arm to his forehead. He made a soft snoring sound deep in his throat. Then one eye opened a slit. “Look familiar?” he said, reaching for me. Laughing softly, I nestled into his arms again, right where I belonged. I yawned.