The following week Vegetarian Niçoise garnered a note that read, “Fantastic! Please let me thank you in person and make a meal for you. I can do anything from tofu to steak.”
In reply to Chef Salad with Egg—took me three tries to hard-boil the eggs properly—she wrote, “You’re a wonderful cook. Please let me even the scales.” French Greens with Goat Cheese—I barked my knuckles on the stupid grater—brought the plea, “Name the day and I’ll grill anything you like.” It was signed, “In your culinary debt.”
I was stirring together Crostini with Olive and Tomato when I did a reality check. Would she even want me? Her type seemed to be a little more endowed than I was, and certainly taller. Lush in hair and figure, not quite as Q-tip with a hint of waist and bust. I didn’t want her to just do me. I wanted her to want to do me, not make me come as a kind of tip for salad delivery.
Well, damn. Ego and self-esteem were part of the equation of casual sex. Who knew? Annoyed, I dumped the salad into the much-traveled container, snapped on the lid and taped my reply to her note to the top. I wouldn’t know if she wanted me until we actually were face-to-face.
I heard her settle into her balcony chair and made my tiptoed dash up to her door. I had just put my foot on the first tread down the stairs when her door opened.
She let out a crow of success. “Got you!”
Blushing vividly, I stared at my feet because her brown body was gorgeous and the deep rose of her nipples instantly made my mouth water. I imagined their firmness against my own breasts, against my back, filling my hands.
“I was thinking it had to be you. Cindy, right?”
“Yeah. I was inspired by the smell of your barbecue and trying to work up the nerve to cage dinner.” I made myself look up and blushed anew at the merriment in her dark brown eyes.
“You are welcome to join me tonight.” She picked up the container from her welcome mat and read the note. “Or Friday night, if that’s what you’d rather.”
Would I ever stop blushing? My coy “Friday night would be perfect, if you don’t have other plans” now seemed like an outright request to stay the night.
I managed to say, “Friday would be better.”
“Are you going all femme on me? Hair’s not done, haven’t shaved, wrong clothes?”
Obviously, she’d noticed my hair wasn’t done and legs weren’t shaved. These weren’t the sloppiest shorts I owned, but they were
close. “I was a little distracted and didn’t think you’d catch me today, true.”
“I’ve got a large piece of salmon, so there’s plenty.”
Maybe she didn’t want to do a Friday night with me. But I wasn’t looking or feeling very desirable and, damn it, the longer I dithered the more I turned red. I wanted dinner and I wanted those long arms wrapped tight around me while she groaned and I made noises I’d never made before.
She interrupted my stammering with, “How about dinner tonight and again on Friday, when we’ll both be…” She flashed a grin. “Better prepared?”
I managed a cool assessment of her naked upper torso. “Don’t put on the Ritz on my account.”
She glanced down at herself in surprise and then, endearingly, she crimsoned. “I was in such a hurry…you were disappearing…” She fumbled behind her door and in moments pulled a T-shirt over her head.
I made a little noise of disappointment and she gave me a suspicious, but amused, look. “Come on,” she urged. “Dinner, before my salmon overcooks.”
I let her pull me inside and the first thing I noticed was the clean sharp lines of pop art prints and low, retro furniture. A workout bench was visible through the smaller bedroom door—her layout was identical to mine—and the tiny balcony was crowded with just one chair and the little grill. I watched Jaycee quickly fork a large salmon filet onto a plate and she gestured at the breakfast nook where a table, much like mine, and two chairs waited.
“Would you like some wine? I always drink red. It’s a merlot at the moment.”
“Sure. Can I get plates and such?”
“No, have a seat. It’s already done.”
I watched her economical movements in the small kitchen, and within ninety seconds half of her salmon and half of my salad filled two dark blue ironware plates. She filled two large wineglasses about a third of the way and set the bottle within my reach.
Desperately searching for small talk, I took a bite of the fish. “Oh, that’s wonderful. The smell from your hibachi makes me crazy, you know.”
“I hadn’t realized. I’m sorry, it’s my favorite way to cook—hardly any dishes after.”
“I realized earlier I don’t even know what you do.”
“Dental hygienist.” She shrugged. “Same schedule every day, generous time off, okay pay, and it leaves me unstressed.” She also added, with a hint of shyness, “I also write.”
“Oh? Like what? Fiction?”
“Historical drama, mostly. I like the research. How about you? What pays your bills?”
“Office work. Administration in a distributor warehouse network.”
“And I bet you work with a lot of men.”
I tipped my head to one side. “How did you know that?”
“Your work clothes have you all covered up. I mean, from the skirt and sweater sets I wouldn’t have guessed—” She made a vague gesture with her fork. “You don’t look at all the Puritan at the moment.”
Surprised and somehow gratified at her perception, and pleased by the little flare in her eyes as she looked me over, I said, “You’re absolutely right. I work with a lot of big, sweaty men who turn into fourteen-year olds if they see cleavage.”
“So do I.” Her grin definitely had a flirtatious edge.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind it from you.” I quickly sipped my wine.
“Good to know. I’ll remember that Friday night.”
Friday night was sounding more and more like a date. Thinking of the last recipe in the booklet, I asked, “Do you like jicama or beets?”
“Beets no, jicama yes, especially with lime.”
We talked about food and cooking for a while. As I suspected, she was more accomplished than I was, but she didn’t have to know I had never really cooked anything but Pop-Tarts before in my life.
I was thanking her for the meal and the wonderful wine as she quickly washed up, when she said, “So was it only my grilling skills that got you up here?”
The wine did the talking, I swear. “That and your chef’s apron.”
“I don’t wear—oh, really? Are you disappointed I put the T-shirt on?”
I nodded. “Very.”
“I’ll take mine off if you’ll take yours off.” She dried her hands on the dishtowel and regarded me with one hand on her cocked hip.
“Now who’s being juvenile?” The light had deepened as the evening grew later, and I couldn’t stop tracing the contours of her lean face with my gaze. I wanted to feel her short, kinked curls against my fingertips as we kissed. I had a deep ache from watching her sensitive, expressive mouth during dinner.
“I am.” She grinned. “I told you, I’m a total adolescent around cleavage.”
“I don’t have that much.”
She was the picture of innocence. “How would I know?”
Nice girls…they don’t strip off their shirts and unsnap their bra, but that’s what I did. Everything seemed very simple. She pulled her shirt off as well, then drew me into her arms. “If you’re in the mood, I can think of a couple of ways to cap off a lovely evening.”
“Only a couple?”
“How many is up to you. It’s all up to you.” Her expression grew slightly more serious. “I love women. I love making them feel good. And you are…” One hand caressed my back. “You are all woman. I really like that.”
“So I gathered.” She looked puzzled and I flushed. “Sometimes, I can hear how much you love women.”
“Oh? Does that bother you?”
“Quite a bit.”
Her fingertips traced the waistband of my shorts. “I’m single, free, and I’m not going to—”
I shushed her with my fingertips. “Not in a bad way. In a good way. In a ‘lucky her’ way.”
“I think I’m the lucky one.”
I took a deep breath. “Why wait until Friday, then?”
“Why indeed?”
She kissed me. It was all sweet and gentle until I put my hand on the back of her neck, then her mouth opened, leaving me shivering from the brush of her tongue.
“I don’t do this all the time,” I said, when I was able.
“You don’t have to tell me a thing, Cindy. That’s not what I’m about. Tonight. Right now. It’s the way I am.”
“I get that. I just mean—”
She silenced me with her lips as her warm hands smoothed up my back. My skin prickled alive with tingles of pleasure from the heat of her body. I hadn’t meant to do this tonight, and now that it was happening I didn’t care about anything but being what she wanted for the night.
The kisses didn’t stop while she unzipped my shorts, and the feeling of her hand sliding down set off fierce trembling in my thighs.
“I’m a bit of a top, but I promise nothing happens until you say yes.”
“Yes,” I breathed and her fingers slipped into my soaked heat.
I cried out, it felt so good, and thrust my pelvis down hard on her hand.
“That’s right, baby,” she said against my mouth. “We’re just getting started.”
My climax startled me, it was happening before I was aware it was rising. Her fingers, stroking circles around my clit, never stopped that sensitive caress, even when my knees buckled.
“I absolutely love hot women like you.” She kissed me hard.
Breathlessly, I kissed her back as I stroked her hair. She rubbed her head against my palm and I realized she liked that, so I worked my fingers into the short curls while she kissed me again.
“Bed, baby.” She pulled me into the bedroom, then, with a possessive, fierce look, stripped off my shorts. Gently, but firmly, she pushed me down on the bed as she dropped to her knees. The next thing I knew her tongue was dancing over my clit, down my soaked lips, and then inside me.
My reaction was explosive. I bucked against her mouth, or tried to. She was holding my hips down and I felt devoured, like her carnal feast. I had never come easily this way but for her I did, with a gasping shudder as I wrapped my arms over my chest.
“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?”
“Yes. God, yes.” In the low light I could see that she was flushed, as excited as I was, and I wondered what it would be like to go down on her. I was about to make a move to do that when she opened a dresser drawer and drew out a harness.
She looked at me and I remembered.
“Yes.” I could hardly breathe.
“Good answer.” Her smile was pleased and had that same possessive edge I’d seen earlier. With an assessing look she picked out something else, then gracefully stepped into the harness, which now was prepared for action. I didn’t get a good look at the toy. I didn’t care. She set a pump bottle of lube on the bedside table and paused.
“Would you like to help?”
“Hell, yes,” I said. Nice girl be damned. I filled my palm with lube and reached for her cock. My pulse doubled as a shudder of pleasure rippled through her and her nipples tightened into hard, eager points. On impulse, my hand still sliding sensuously along the ample inches of her, I got to my knees on the bed and took one dark rose tip between my teeth. She hissed. I bit down and she moaned.
Her bedroom shimmered with fireworks after that. Light and dark danced across my vision. I was on my back and she was inside me, there was no stopping her or me, not now. Her hands clamped hard on my shoulders, she fucked me wildly, in, in, deeper, and in. I planted my nails in her back and she was the one who moaned, “Yes.”
Several times I thought I was done, but she would move me and start over. From my elbows and knees I took her into me again and again, until she pulled me back onto her lap, one hand clamped at the nape of my neck while the other tugged hard at one nipple.
“Play with your clit,” she ordered, sounding as if she was gritting her teeth.
I moaned and did as she asked, marveling at how swollen and hard it was even after I’d come several times.
“Oh, baby. God, if I’d known…” She pushed in deep and between her cock and my touch I went over a cliff, falling and deliciously soaring, growing lighter with every heartbeat until she floated me softly down to the bed.
*
I moved in her arms, after a few minutes, and she murmured, “That was really fun.”
“Mm-hmm.” I rolled over to face her and felt the hardness of her cock on my thigh. I was impossibly aroused again and wondered what it would take to drive the sleepiness out of her eyes. “You said if you’d known… Known what?”
Her smile was lazy. “Known how unbelievably hot you were, I’d have been putting food on your doorstep. I love a woman who knows what she likes.”
I hadn’t known I would like her control and primal energy so much, and, even after the best sex of my life, I still felt like a nice girl. I kissed her softly and didn’t take my gaze from her face as she watched me reach for the lube again. “I do know what I like.”
She grinned, her eyes opening a little. “More? Am I going to have to fuck you to sleep?”
I laughed as I slid my slippery hand down the length of her cock, then lower until my fingers slipped past the harness edge and into her sodden, thick wet. “Or vice versa.”
She closed her eyes. “You’re going to get me all worked up again.”
“Good. I mean to.”
She tightened in response to my touch, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and abandon. “I don’t usually…go inside me.” With a growl of need, she grabbed my wrist and pushed my hand deep. “Four fingers, like that.”
The feel of her was tight, but open—amazing— and I let her grip show me how hard she liked it. Harder than I’d ever done anyone before and when she shivered and let go of me, I fucked her a little harder than that. Her eyes widened with pleasure. When I felt her spasm against my fingers I was consumed with pure delight. She came for me and even as she was still shuddering, she pulled me across her lap and pushed her cock inside me again as I straddled her. Hard. Sharp. Her nails were in my back and her strained, disbelieving gasps of orgasm matched my own.
*
“I get the feeling,” I said as she pulled the light covers over us, “that you’d like another salad on Friday.”
Sleepily, she kissed my temple and I saw the curve of her smile. “I don’t much go in for second dates, but then I’ve never met a woman who could cook like you before. So yes, a salad would be great on Friday.”
Her eyelashes fluttered shut as I pondered that I had only one salad recipe left. With a satisfied half-laugh, I snuggled into her, recalling just before sleep claimed me that the store had carried 10 Quick & Easy Desserts.
Too Hot to Handle
Aunt Fanny
“Why’s it so fuckin’ hot in here?” moaned Caroline.
Teddy’s ears pricked. Her lover never swore until she was on her last nerve.
“Didn’t you turn on the air conditioner?” Caroline was walking around the apartment in short shorts and a halter top, but Teddy could still see the beads of perspiration pooling at the hollow of her lovely throat.
“I turned it down an hour ago,” she said, ambling over to the wall unit. She tapped it with her finger, then fiddled with the dial before announcing, “Looks like it’s broken, babe.”
Caroline snatched the phone and dialed the apartment manager. She was polite at first, then firm. Finally she ended up arguing and pleading, but to no avail. It was Saturday night, and there would be no help until Monday morning at the earliest. “I’m going to die,” she announced dramatically, slamming down the receiver. “She says all the apartments are out and recommends
we take cool baths. Humph!”
Teddy watched as she stomped over to the refrigerator, holding the door open for the cool breeze. “Well, we could go out, take in a movie or something,” she suggested. It was her one night off all week, and she was expecting to get lucky. Not likely, considering the circumstances. When Caroline was out of sorts, nothing could get her in the mood.
“There’s nothing I want to see,” complained Caroline, pouting prettily. “I’m just going to die, I know it!” She stomped her slender bare foot on the kitchen tile. “Even the floor is hot!”
“Well, you can’t stand in front of the fridge all night,” said Teddy. She crossed the room and folded her lover in her arms. “How ’bout we go to the bar for a while?”
“It’s so dark and smoky in there,” countered Caroline, nuzzling briefly at the collar of Teddy’s black T-shirt. “And wine always makes me hot, anyway.”
“That’s what I like about taking you to the bar,” answered her butch, kissing the top of her blond waves. Humidity always curled Caroline’s hair, which just annoyed her more. “I like you hot.”
Wrong answer.
“Well, I’m hot now,” stormed the miserable femme, slapping at Teddy’s arms. “You like me now? Huh?” She pulled away from their embrace and plopped down on the couch, picking up a magazine, which she used to fan herself. “I’m just grouchy, Teddy. You know I hate summer.” She sighed exhaustedly. “Just leave me be to suffer. You go out,” she ordered. “There’s no way you can fix this.”
“You sure?” clarified Teddy, impatiently running blunt fingers through her short brown hair. She’d been caught before in femme webs where you did what they said and then paid a price for it later. “You sure you don’t want to do something?” she pleaded. “It’s date night.” She winked at her lover encouragingly.
“I’m sure.” Caroline waved her out the door without rising from the couch. “I’m miserable. I’ll just drag you down. Go play some pool with your butch buddies, and get out of my hair.”
Teddy stomped out of the apartment and down the dark stairwell. Her body was the only thing moving the heavy air. Outside it was little better. There was no wind, and those dressed to go out hurried into air-conditioned cabs. The rest sat listlessly on doorsteps, waving paper fans. Teddy rounded the corner and started the three-block walk to the bar.
Extreme Passions Page 6