Fenced-In Felix

by Cheyenne Blue

  Our gazes met and clung. The restaurant faded from my vision. The noise from the other rooms, the buzz of conversation, the scrape of Pen’s fork on her plate all muted as if we were underwater. There was only Josie and only our linked hands, her gaze meeting mine and the promise and heat in her expression. I dragged out shallow breaths as I turned her hand over so that it was on top of mine and encompassed it with my other hand. Her skin was cool in the air-conditioned room, her hands rough from her physical work, but to me, it was all heat and promise. It was spark and sex.

  Pen put down her fork. “I can’t keep staring at my plate any longer. Do you two want me to leave?”

  The spell was broken, and I released Josie’s hand.

  “No, of course not. We’re in this together. The three of us.” I reached out with my other hand to grasp Pen’s, and the three of us clasped hands over the table.

  “You could have saved the cost of a room, though,” Pen said as she released our hands. “I doubt you’ll use both.”

  Despite the promise and the knowledge of how the evening would end, we didn’t rush. We lingered over tiramisu and coffee, and then went back to the pub where we were staying and bought a bottle of wine to take upstairs to the veranda. There were three chairs, and we drank the red wine and chatted there. Pen was between Josie and me, and if I would rather have been next to Josie to hold her hand and more easily watch her face and the curve of her lips, Pen’s presence between us heightened the anticipation and yet also made the evening a pleasant one between friends. It wouldn’t be right to rush off and leave Pen alone.

  So we talked about our lives and inconsequential things, an easy banter. We learned that Pen did something techy and esoteric on the internet for work, something to do with websites and apps. She had a master plan to pay off her mortgage as soon as possible and then travel for a while, maybe living overseas. She could work from anywhere, she said; she didn’t have to be in an outer suburb of Melbourne, living for the weekends when she went riding. She talked of Casey, the yard owner, fondly, and I wondered if she was leaning in that direction. But then the conversation shifted to her last partner who’d died, and if Pen was attracted to Casey, she had a long way to go before her heart would be free to give to someone else.

  Around ten, Pen rose. “I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late, children.” She bent and kissed each of us on the cheek, and then she was gone. The door of her bedroom closed behind her with a thud.

  Josie rose as well and I thought she would also suggest we go to bed, with all the promise in those words, but she shifted to Pen’s vacated chair. She reached for my hand across the gap and for a few minutes, we were silent, hands joined, as we finished the wine.

  There was the occasional drift of conversation from the bar below, but otherwise the night was quiet. Although it was well into spring, it was cooler than back home, and I hadn’t thought to bring jeans.

  Josie’s skin was extra golden in the dim lights overhead. I wanted to rest my palm on her inner thigh, feel the softness, the weight of muscle, but the distance between the chairs was too great.

  I thought of all she still hadn’t told me. I thought of the evasions since I’d known her. I thought of Pen’s assumption that we’d sleep together tonight and her quiet urging that I seize the moment.

  Things weren’t completely right between me and Josie, but would they ever be? Could I live with myself if I slept with Josie and it turned out there were still more evasions and half-truths to come out into the daylight?

  Could I live with myself if I didn’t sleep with her?

  We hadn’t kissed since the day I’d found out about Fiery Lights. Yes, I now believed her about Flame and her part in it, and yes, I thought I was doing the right thing, but my mother’s words ran through my head: “There’s no love without trust, Felicity. How can there be?” My parents’ deep love for one another had been the bedrock of our lives. Could I settle, even on a temporary basis, for less than that?

  I stood and held out my hand to Josie. One kiss, that would tell me. One kiss would decide if the risk was worth it, if I could live with myself, whatever the outcome.

  Josie stood too. I tugged at her hand so that she took a pace forwards. Her curly hair tickled my cheek, and the beads in her hair tapped lightly on my face as she moved.

  She settled her arms around my waist. She was physically tough from all the manual work, and the wiry strength in those arms was enough that I would find it hard to break away if she wanted to stop me. If I wanted to escape in the first place.

  “Kiss me,” she said. Her voice was laced with laughter, lighthearted. It skipped over all seriousness. “You know you want to.”

  I bent my head and touched my lips to hers, just waiting. What would she do? There was enough hesitation in my body, enough tension, that she must sense it. She didn’t let me pull away. Her mouth opened under mine, her lips parted, and her tongue stroked the corners of my mouth. There was garlic and red wine on her breath, but there was sweetness underlying that. She gave me her lips and her kisses, and although I wasn’t an active participant, she didn’t seem to mind.

  Her tongue touched mine in a soft press, and her fingers tightened on my waist. My hands hovered in the air, then came to rest on her shoulders, not to push her away but to grasp them and pull her closer.

  Her breasts pressed against my chest, and when one of her thighs nudged at mine, I softened my stance so she could push between.

  She knew the moment I stopped resisting the roadblocks in my head. Maybe it was when I locked my thigh around hers. Maybe it was when I framed her face with my palms and kissed her long and deeply. Maybe it was when I pressed down on her thigh so that the crotch of my shorts was a ridge that pressed on the side of my clit. Maybe it was all of those things, or maybe she knew all along that it would come to this tonight.

  When we broke apart, the longing caught in my throat with such force I could hardly breathe around it. She took my hand. “Your place or mine?”

  “Does it matter? I’m not sure there’s any difference.”

  We walked to the nearest door, which opened to my room. There was only my bag on the floor by the bed.

  Josie turned from me to bolt the door closed and pull the curtains across. There was a sliver of light shafting in where the curtains didn’t meet the frame, but otherwise, the room was dark. She fumbled her way to the other door, the one out to the corridor, and found the switch. A harsh glare flooded the room. After the quiet night and the peace of the small town, it seemed intrusive and sharp, too bright. Right now, I wanted those shadows and muted colours. They echoed the uncertainties between us.

  Maybe Josie thought the same as she turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light.

  She was uncharacteristically solemn as she pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it onto the floor. Her bra followed, and I saw her breasts, firm, lush, and oh, so perfect.

  I followed her lead, and my silent disrobing was as stately as hers. I unbuttoned my shirt. My bra was old and frayed, but she didn’t seem to mind. In the space between heartbeats, I shed my bra and unzipped my shorts before I could talk myself out of it. She did the same, and clad only in our undies, we stared at each other across the bed.

  Her lightheartedness had deserted her. There was no smile on her face, just those deep, watchful eyes following my movements. I flicked my plait behind me and hooked my fingers into the edge of my briefs. They were functional rather than seductive, the comfortable full granny knickers that I preferred. Her own briefs were plain cotton bikinis, faded from many washings.

  She knelt on the bed and held out both hands to me. I took her fingers and knelt too, and we kissed again. This time, there was no hesitation, and the kiss built to a sweet crescendo of stolen breath. Josie slanted her mouth over mine, and our tongues danced and our breaths mingled.

  She pulled back and moved her fingers to the sides of my undies and tugged. It took a bit to get them down; they bunched at my hips. Bu
t despite the comical clumsiness of less-than-seductive underwear, there was still that seriousness on her face. When they were low on my thighs and my pussy was revealed to her gaze, then she took my hands and moved them to her own underwear. The cotton panties were easier to push down. She trimmed, I noticed, and her bush was clipped so that it was minus the luxuriant curls that I’d expected.

  Abruptly, the seriousness was gone, and still hobbled by her briefs, she toppled over onto her side on the bed. The bed bounced, but she removed her underwear in one swift movement.

  “Your turn.” She grinned, and it sent the impish light back into her eyes, as if she’d decided that this moment was becoming too serious for what we were doing.

  My own fall was less graceful than hers, and my knickers caught on my toes, bending them back as I tried to free the material. But it didn’t matter. We were both naked, and we were together.

  Josie moved closer, so that our bellies touched and our thighs entwined.

  My nipples shot tiny shocks down low in my belly as her breasts brushed over them. The ache was building, the low thrum of desire, the sweet, heavy throb.

  I slid my palm up her side until I could curve it around to cover her breast. Her nipple stiffened against my fingers, and I scissored it, holding it in place so that I could bend and touch my tongue to the point. Her involuntary shudder and indrawn breath drew a flicker down to my clit, as surely as if she’d touched me there. Her hand clasped my plait, and she wound its length around her fist, anchoring me to her.

  I increased the pressure of my fingers on her nipple and touched again with my tongue. Her deep groan and the tug on my hair told me it was welcome.

  I kissed her nipples, one, then the other, using mouth and tongue and a gentle scrape of teeth. When I released her breast, and moved up so that I could look her in the eye, she released my plait, and her fingers danced their way down my spine. They cupped a buttock briefly before curving over my hip to rest on my belly, just above my pubes.

  “I knew I wanted you, Felix,” she said. “I just didn’t realise how damn much I wanted you.”

  My breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t good at this, at sex. My opportunities had been limited, my partners few. Sue was my last lover, and that was over three years ago, before she and Moni got together. Since then, nothing. Just me and my fingers. Not even a buzzing toy, as I was too nervous of it being discovered in the post office where Narelle checked the senders on the mail.

  I didn’t have the skills that people in the city seemed to acquire so effortlessly. But here, with Josie, none of that mattered. She was into me, if her sounds of appreciation were anything to go by, and I was oh so very definitely into her.

  I encouraged her onto her back and pushed her knees apart, spreading her wide to my gaze. Her sex was puffy, wet with desire. I touched her with a finger, then another, mimicking the scissoring action on her breast by repeating it on her clit. Gently, though. As my fingers circled slowly on her clit, she pushed her hips towards me.

  “Tell me what you want,” I said. “Don’t make me guess.”

  “You. Inside me.”

  Her hand feathered through my pubes, enough of a distraction that desire built hard and sharp and fast. But I tamped down my own needs so that I could push a finger inside her. Her internal muscles shivered around my finger, and she clamped down hard. I added a second finger and moved them back and forth slowly. She was wet as a monsoon, and there was no friction, just the sweet slickness of her and the warm smell of sex.

  “Felix. Oh, Felix.” She chanted my name, and the urgency of her words, the staccato beat of them, like galloping hoofbeats, urged me to move faster, harder, until her inner muscles clenched and spasmed around my fingers.

  I withdrew slowly, trailing my damp fingers over her mound.

  She looked at me with wide eyes. “That was incredible.” My water bottle was on the nightstand, and she reached for it, gulping huge swallows.

  My breathing hitched in my throat as she focussed back on me. “Lie down.” The order was accompanied by a wicked grin. When I’d complied, she said, “Put your hands above your head. Stretch.” My hands hit the wall behind my head, so I shuffled down until I could do so. I bent my knees up so they remained on the bed.

  Josie rolled off the bed and stood at the foot, looking down at me. “You probably have no idea how amazing you look right now—all long and clean lines, lean with muscle, like a thoroughbred.” She knelt on the bed, between my knees, and dropped forwards onto all fours. She kissed my mouth, slantways, just a kiss. I arched up, trying to deepen it, but she moved down, and settled her lips on my neck. A kiss, a nip, a slow slide, and she moved downwards, always downwards. She nibbled along my collarbone, and when I thought she would drop lower again and kiss my breast, she dropped her tongue into the dip at the bottom of my neck and continued her trailing soft kisses along the other collarbone.

  “Josie…” My hands came down to twist in her riot of curls.

  She lifted her mouth long enough to bark, “Hands up!” Only when I’d obeyed did she continue her long, slow nibbling kisses.

  And then she finally moved down, and her mouth closed over a nipple. She was hot and wet, and her tongue did amazing things, teasing the tip and sucking gently. When my other breast received the same treatment, I closed my eyes to better focus on the sensations, on the desires she was causing.

  When she moved yet even lower, I learnt an advantage to my position. With my hands above my head, my small breasts stood up proudly, and Josie was lured into kissing their undersides. I’d never realised how sensitive the skin was there, but under Josie’s lips, it became a whole new erogenous zone.

  She shifted lower again, this time backing down to the floor on her knees, her upper body between my legs. I lowered my arms, as I wanted to touch her. Needed to touch her. I twined my fingers in her hair as she rested her head on my belly and pressed a kiss just above my navel.

  For a few moments, we stayed like this, our breath moving in time, but there was more to come. When her lips started their tortuous, slow descent once more, I was almost sobbing with the need to push her head where I wanted it most. But then she was there, her breath hot on my sex, her fingers circling my clit. When her tongue touched where her fingers were and flickered, it was almost too much. So much for the slow ascent to climax that I’d been working towards; instantly she brought me to the foothills. Once, twice, three times she passed over my clit, and my hips raised off the bed. I came under her flickering tongue and clenched around the finger she’d pushed inside me at the last instant.

  When she was sure I was done, she moved up the bed and rested her head on my shoulder.

  I curled an arm around hers and brought her closer still. We lay in silence for a few minutes, and then she said, “What are you thinking?”

  I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That I’m comfortable. How amazing that was. That you’re incredible. That it’s very warm in here.”

  I felt her smile curve against my skin. “That’s what I’m thinking too. All of that. I’ll turn the ceiling fan on.”

  I missed the touch of her skin in the thirty seconds it took her to get out of bed and flick the switch, but the movement of air from the fan instantly felt better.

  “I wish we could stay here longer,” she said, “take a few days together. Explore Victoria. Eat yum cha in Melbourne. See the ocean.”

  I wanted that too. “We can’t. We have to get back so that we’re at Jayboro when the police come.”

  “I know. I’m just wishing.” That soft kiss on my shoulder again. “I’m wishing a lot of things right now.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Pen didn’t say anything the next morning, but her warm smile as we met in the dining room for breakfast said that she knew exactly how we had spent the night. She probably did know exactly. The interior walls were a single skin of panelling.

  It was Sunday, and the pub didn’t open until noon, but they’d set out a simple breakfast for us
: coffee, toast and Vegemite, and some muffins.

  I borrowed Pen’s phone and checked the flights back to Townsville. “There’s one at three,” I said, “but it’s very expensive. Twice the price of what we paid to fly down.” I checked another airline. It was the same. “How long will it take us to get to the airport?”

  “Three hours, if there’s no hold-ups.” Pen sipped her coffee. “This instant stuff is pretty awful.”

  “I’ve had worse.” Josie drank her own. “At least it’s hot.”

  “Would we make a midday flight?”

  Pen considered. “Yes. If we leave as soon as we can.”

  For a moment, we were silent. It seemed a shame to end our jaunt together in a mad dash for the airport. But equally, it was vital that we got back as soon as possible.

  “I think we better go for it,” I said. “I’ll book the flight if you wouldn’t mind packing the car?”

  Josie exhaled, a long, soft breath. “Back to reality.”

  I booked the noon flight while the others packed. I hoped I’d have no unexpected bills in the next few weeks; my credit card must have been close to maxed. Josie didn’t have one, so I’d paid for both of us.

  Pen had obviously checked the route. “You have to return the car to the airport?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “I’m not sure we’ll have time to go via my place,” she said. “Melbourne traffic is insane, even on Sundays, but you can drop me at a friend’s place on the way.”

  “Are you sure?” It seemed a bit mean to dump Pen and run. She hadn’t known us before yesterday, but she’d come along for the ride and had been a good companion.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I hope we see you again.” Josie found Pen’s hand and squeezed. “Somewhere. Not sure where, but I hope we do.”