“It’s true. I do. It is a curse of my fame. Fortunately for me, it does not happen often that I am attracted in return.”
The comment stopped Sarah’s breath in her lungs and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to process the words.
“As I said, you are a very beautiful woman, Sarah.”
Karine stood and Sarah’s eyes followed her upward. My God, she’s beautiful. She was statuesque, commanding, and so fucking gorgeous, Sarah had trouble remembering her own name. Karine towered over her even with bare feet, everything about her screaming stylish power and elegant control. Karine pushed closer so their thighs touched and Sarah felt surrounded, ensnared, the feeling not unpleasant as Karine’s spicy perfume saturated the air around them. This was a woman who always got what she wanted, of that Sarah was absolutely sure. Sarah’s eyes were level with Karine’s throat and she had the sudden, nearly overwhelming desire to lean forward and press her mouth against what promised to be the softest skin her lips had ever touched. She felt light-headed, dizzy simply from the proximity of Karine Badeau. Her closeness was intoxicating and Sarah fought to maintain her professionalism, which was flying at an alarmingly fast rate right out the window with each breath she took. She knew it was a losing battle; part of her had been wishing, fantasizing about this very thing since the second Karine walked into her theater. She simply had no idea it might actually happen.
Karine still held Sarah’s wrist in one hand, as if she wanted to be sure she couldn’t escape, not that there was much danger of that. With the other, she used one fingertip and ran it lightly along the side of Sarah’s face. She traced Sarah’s jawline, trailing over her chin and down her throat, continuing down the creamy skin of her chest until she reached the barrier of the white blouse, just above Sarah’s cleavage.
“You asked if there was something you could do for me. Something I might need.” Karine lightly traced the V pattern between Sarah’s breasts. Her voice was so close and so husky that Sarah could feel it vibrate in the pit of her stomach. That accent was too damn sexy; Sarah thought she could listen to her talk for hours.
Trying to focus, Sarah nodded. “I did.” Her voice was raspy and her skin burned as though Karine’s finger was tipped with a red-hot ember.
“I seem to be a little…tense this evening.”
“Oh?”
“Oui. And tension before a show is not good. Fortunately, I know something that will help me to…relax.”
“Uh-huh.” Sarah’s chest rose and fell as Karine continue to trace the fabric of her blouse. She looked down, watching Karine’s long-fingered hand with erotic fascination. This time when Karine dipped to the bottom of the V, instead of going back up the other side, she grasped the first button and slowly popped it open. It made no sound, but might as well have been a firecracker the way it made Sarah flinch. She dragged her eyes back up to meet Karine’s. The crystal blue irises were ringed with black, the corners crinkling slightly with the mischievous yet gentle smile on Karine’s face.
“If you don’t mind,” Karine added in a whisper.
Their eyes held as the next button popped open. And the next.
Sarah felt as though she was outside of her body and watching the events unfold from above as she heard herself respond, “I don’t mind.”
Karine pulled Sarah’s blouse out of her waistband before unbuttoning the rest of it. Sarah’s lips parted slightly in an attempt to get enough air into her lungs so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. Her entire body quivered as Karine rested her open hands on Sarah’s bare torso and eyed the simple white lace bra.
“Mon Dieu,” Karine whispered, reverence coloring her tone. “You are exquisite.”
Sarah touched Karine’s bare forearms, unable to keep from looking down once again. She was entranced by the sight of Karine Badeau’s pretty hands caressing her bare skin. She watched in rapt fascination as they moved slowly up her sides, their fervor threatening to scorch her. When they reached the lace of the bra, Karine dipped her head to catch Sarah’s gaze. The second Sarah looked up to meet her, Karine captured Sarah’s lips with her own, their mouths fusing with smoldering heat at the same time Karine’s hands closed over Sarah’s breasts. Sarah whimpered.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, is there anything she doesn’t do well? Sarah thought fleetingly. Karine kissed her slowly, the odd combination of gentleness and firmness saying that she was in no hurry but she was most certainly going to get what she wanted from Sarah, and Sarah should just accept the fact and enjoy it. At this point, disagreeing with her was the furthest thing from Sarah’s mind. Her consciousness blurred from clear thought to nothing but feeling as Karine’s tongue slipped into her mouth.
Bracing herself against the vanity table, Sarah’s knuckles went white as she gripped the edge for all she was worth. Karine pushed beneath both the blouse and jacket and reached around behind. With one practiced flick, Sarah’s bra fell open, the white lace hanging uselessly. Karine never broke their kiss as she caressed Sarah’s back and then skimmed around and covered her bare breasts, groaning into Sarah’s mouth at the first touch of their warm, delicate skin. She worked them with confidence, as if Karine Badeau was not a famous singer, but rather a connoisseur of the female form, an expert on the female breast, as if handling them with joy was her life’s work. She worshipped them with her palms, her fingers, and finally, her fingertips as she zeroed in on Sarah’s swollen and aching nipples. She rolled and pumped them until Sarah was squirming under her and barely audible moans issued from her throat.
Karine wrenched her mouth away but rested her forehead on Sarah’s as she continued fondling her. Both women sucked in air as if they’d been underwater too long.
“You like that?” Karine asked, breathless. “Oui?”
“God, yes,” Sarah replied, wondering idly if she was going to simply melt into steaming liquid on the floor at this woman’s feet.
Chest still heaving, Karine shifted her focus to the front of Sarah’s slacks. Within seconds, they were unfastened and sliding down to bunch around Sarah’s shoes, the walkie-talkie thumping to the floor. Sarah sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she’d happened to wear the panties that matched her bra as she now stood before one of the most beautiful women in the world in not much more than her underwear, flushed and panting and frighteningly turned on.
With great effort, Sarah let go of the table and clasped Karine’s waist. She had only a few precious seconds of contact with the silky warm, midnight blue fabric before Karine gently removed Sarah’s hands.
“Oh, no, no, ma cherie. No touching. I must be onstage in a short time. It would be bad for me to appear wrinkled, no?”
“But—” Sarah protested and was silenced by another deep and thorough kiss, one that stole all rational thought from her head. She vaguely noticed her panties were slipping down her legs, and then she groaned into Karine’s mouth as hands caressed and massaged her backside, kneading and squeezing the flesh. In the next instant, Karine gripped her tightly and lifted her to a sitting position on the table, leaving Sarah’s legs dangling on either side of the sparkling navy blue dress. Sarah stroked Karine’s face as they kissed, reveling in the smooth softness of her skin. Before she could slip her fingers around to explore the back of the long and elegant neck, Karine caught Sarah’s wrists once more.
“Ah ah ah,” she scolded tenderly. “No touching, ma cherie. Remember? I can put on more lipstick, but I will not have the time to repair my hair.”
“Please,” Sarah said, barely recognizing the begging and gravelly voice as her own. “I want to touch you.”
“I know.” Karine kissed her with sweetness. “Here. Do something for me.” She pushed Sarah backward a few inches until her back was braced against the large mirror. Directing Sarah’s arms, Karine lifted them over her head, closing Sarah’s fingers around the thick metal necks of the two lamps fused solidly to the wall and protruding over the top of the mirror. “You hold on to these and do not let go.”
The new position lif
ted Sarah’s breasts slightly and Karine raised the loose bra to survey her handiwork, a sparkle of appreciation in her eyes.
“Karine—” Sarah objected, then gasped when Karine captured one of her nipples and lowered her mouth to Sarah’s neck, tracing up the side with her warm, wet tongue.
“Do not let go, Sarah,” Karine instructed again, her lips grazing Sarah’s ear, a tone of warning in her voice. “If you do, I will stop. Ça va?” She tugged gently on Sarah’s earring with her teeth.
Sarah swallowed, her fingers already aching from the grip she had on the lamps. The last thing in the world she wanted right now was for Karine to stop what she was doing. Sarah gave in and nodded her understanding. She dropped her head back as Karine’s tongue forged a hot, moist path down the front of her throat. Karine continued to fondle her breast, but Sarah felt one hand skittering along the inside of her thigh. Part of her wondered if it was possible for her to implode from nothing but the anticipation of what was to come. She felt like she might burst into flames at any moment.
Pushing the dangling fabric of Sarah’s bra aside, Karine took one swollen nipple into her mouth and at the same time, slipped her fingers through the soft moistness between Sarah’s spread thighs. Both women groaned loudly and Sarah’s head bumped back against the mirror.
“Holy good God,” Sarah muttered, her voice laced with wonder as Karine assaulted and teased separate parts of her body using her fingers, her tongue, and her teeth all at once.
“I think,” Karine murmured around the flesh in her mouth, “that you are a little bit turned on, no? Just a little?”
Sarah grinned at the teasing lilt in the accented voice. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just a little.” Then she gasped as Karine hit a particularly sensitive spot with her fingers.
“Ah,” Karine said as she stood so she was eye to eye with Sarah. “There it is.” She pressed again and watched Sarah’s face.
Sarah’s breath caught. The muscles in her arms trembled as she tightened her grip on the lamps. “Karine,” she whispered.
Karine glanced above Sarah’s head. “Good girl,” she commended with a smile, nodding at Sarah’s grip, her fingers never stopping. “You obey well.” Karine kissed her, swallowing the muted whimpers Sarah uttered almost constantly now. Releasing her mouth, she favored Sarah with an expression of tenderness and whispered, “I think it is time.”
The gentle pressure she added with her fingers was all it took.
Sarah’s entire body spasmed when the orgasm hit, taking any semblance of control she might have been clinging to with it. Her knees clamped against Karine’s hips, her forehead pressed against Karine’s collarbone. She was vaguely aware of Karine’s warm hand on the back of her neck and Karine’s soft voice coaxing her in French, as she struggled to keep from crying out her pleasure. An erotic growl emanated from deep in her throat instead as she rode out the climax.
As she relaxed little by precious little, Karine held her, her fingers still buried in warm and wet flesh. She pressed light kisses onto the top of her head until Sarah was able to catch her breath. Sarah willed her fingers to let go, and her arms dropped like dead tree branches from the lamps above her head. She opened and closed her hands in an attempt to restore the feeling.
When she lifted her head and could finally speak, she couldn’t think of a single poetic thing to say. “Holy crap.”
Karine laughed and brushed a lock of dark hair from Sarah’s eyes as she gently removed her fingers from between Sarah’s thighs. “Well put.”
They were silent for several long minutes. Karine toyed with Sarah’s hair while Sarah leaned back against the mirror. Then she handed Sarah the glass of water from earlier and watched with a smile as she finished it off. When she was sure Sarah had recovered, Karine gently fastened the clasp of Sarah’s bra, tugging and adjusting until it fit properly. Then while Sarah watched her fingers at work, very aware of the smell of sex that clung to the air, Karine straightened the white blouse, buttoning it slowly from the bottom. There was something about Karine dressing her that was almost as erotic as Karine undressing her, and Sarah tried hard to swallow down the arousal that threatened to build again.
When Karine had buttoned the blouse to its original position, she grinned, a glimmer of mischief in her blue eyes, and unfastened the top button.
“Better,” she pronounced.
“Oh, you think so?” Sarah said, laughing.
“Absolument.” Karine stepped back and held out a hand to help Sarah off the vanity table.
Less than five minutes later, a hesitant knock sounded on the door at the same time Sarah’s walkie-talkie beeped and Gina called her name. Sarah fastened her pants and smoothed the wrinkles from her jacket. Karine wiped her thumb over Sarah’s lips, removing the leftover traces of a lipstick that was most definitely not Sarah’s color. Sarah grinned her thanks and Karine winked at her as she called, “Come in, Jeffrey.”
At the same time, Sarah pressed her call button. “Yes, Gina?”
Sarah finished her conversation and looked up at Karine as Jeffrey asked the singer, “How do you feel?”
“Very relaxed,” Karine responded, her eyes on Sarah’s. “Thank you so much for your help, Ms. McConnell. Merci beaucoup.”
“Believe me, the pleasure was all mine.” Sarah’s eyes glittered with the shared secret as they met Karine’s. “I hope you have a terrific show,” she said, and she meant it with utmost sincerity. She held out her hand.
Karine took the offered hand to shake it and pulled Sarah close, kissing one cheek and then the other. Before pulling away, she whispered in Sarah’s ear, “The Plaza, room 1228. I will be there by eleven thirty.”
“Thank you, Ms. Badeau,” Sarah said, astounding herself with her ability to remain professional and calm rather than jumping up and down like an excited child. She backed toward the door, imprinting Karine’s image in her mind. She took in the deep, dark, glimmering dress, the upswept auburn hair, complete with escaping ringlets, the shining blue eyes, the full-lipped mouth—God, that mouth—and the lipstick in desperate need of touching up. She filed the picture in the box in her brain marked Precious Keepsakes as she gave a small wave and let herself into the hall.
Once she was alone, she allowed the enormous grin to burst across her still-flushed face. This time, her mind conjured up the vision of Karine Badeau in the big hotel bed, her creamy skin pink with heat, her perfect copper hair mussed, her pitch-perfect voice doing the whimpering this time.
“Oh, there will be touching,” Sarah murmured, still grinning as she headed toward her spot in the wings where she could see the show. “There will most definitely be touching.”
Tongue-Tied
KI Thompson
I didn’t exist at all for her, or at least that’s how it appeared to me, and it was what made the attraction all the more compelling. During the day I worshipped from afar, but at night, I invaded like a spectral thief, seizing what was so prayerfully offered. I prostrated myself at the altar of her body, partaking of the sacraments and feeling blessed. Her intense pleasure was evident in my every caress, in the feel of my tongue tracing the curves and undulations of her body. And when she climaxed, the heavens parted, revealing a choir of angels proclaiming “hosanna!” Obviously my fantasy contained no imperfections.
Day after day the reality of my self-inflicted torture, my inability to approach her, was made manifest each time I saw her. I watched as she occasionally entered my shop, casually browsing the objects on display yet never indicating a particular interest in any one item. Her own gallery, directly across the street, was seldom empty, an array of intriguing clientele incessantly coming and going. But on rare occasions—perhaps between installations, when there was a lull in activity—she was inclined to grace my shop more than any other in the neighborhood, an honor of which I felt entirely unworthy.
This day she wears a pale yellow cotton dress in stark contrast to her bronzed skin. When she enters the front door, the backlight reveals she
wears nothing underneath. I feel myself grow heavy with desire. Acknowledging my existence with a nod of her head and a brief smile, she glides across the hardwood floor to a glass display case, running her fingers sensually along the edge. When she pauses to peer intently at something, I begin to think she may ask for me to take it out for her. My pulse races in anticipation of her nearness. But no, she resumes her cursory glance while I surreptitiously observe her. A motion outside draws her attention and she notices someone standing in front of her store. As she heads toward the exit, I manage a feeble “Have a nice day!” but she is gone, without any indication she has heard my plea.
Days pass but she does not return. While intermittently attending to customers, I catch glimpses of her across the street, talking, laughing, sharing herself with others. I know nothing about art but cannot bring myself to venture into her world to ask. Somehow I think it would be intrusive to insert myself into her realm, and I don’t wish to appear foolish in her eyes by asking irrelevant and insignificant questions. I want to impress her. I want her to think that I am witty and clever. Still, I ache to be near her, to have her notice me.
I am in the back room unpacking boxes of recently arrived inventory when the sound of the door opening alerts me to a shopper. Brushing the hair from my eyes and slipping an unwrapped package into my pocket, I halt abruptly in mid-stride as I behold her leaning indolently against a case. She looks at me with a piercing stare that I cannot decipher and I hesitate before moving forward again. She gestures downward without taking her eyes off me.
“I’d like to see this one, please.”
She has spoken to me at last, and I advance in a foggy haze, my vision obscured by the dreamlike quality of the moment. Time moves imperceptibly as I slide back the panel and retrieve the item. It is a large blue silicone dildo with a flared base. While I have been selling pleasure accessories for years, I am inexplicably timid and shy. I clear my throat in order to speak.
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