by Radclyffe
With a muted cry, she at last turned on her side, curled desperately around the dream, and surrendered to restless sleep.
*
Thane bent over the laptop centered on the small desk in one corner of the hotel room, her shirt sleeves rolled up, a split of champagne from the mini-bar open by her right hand. A glass of the sparkling wine stood forgotten next to it. The dawn was not far off, but it was impossible to tell through the drapery of snow that fell steadily outside her windows.
She worked without pause, a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, unaware of the hour or her own weariness. The night had abandoned her to solitude, and she struggled to give form to what she would not have come morning—the touch of a lover’s hand, gentle on her skin.
Private Pleasures — Afterglow
I love moments like this, right after you come, when you can’t move because the aftershocks are still softly rippling through your muscles, twisting in your depths. I love the way you fall into me, pinning me to the bed with your spent desires.
I reach down and pull a sheet up over us—I don’t want you to get chilled. You settle into my arms, heart still pounding, head on my shoulder, one leg over mine. You’re trembling with exhaustion; I can taste you on my lips. You murmur, “I love you.”
“I know,” I whisper back. I did not come when you came, although I grew harder with each pulse of your orgasm in my mouth. When I am inside you, surrounding you with my lips, holding your passion on my tongue, there is only you. My own need is but a distant thunder. Now the urgency has come roaring back, and I ache for relief.
Your hand moves aimlessly over my breasts and belly as you drift near sleep, occasionally rubbing my nipples, tugging for a fleeting second then abandoning them. My clitoris, still rampant, twitches, and I spread my legs just a little. You snuggle closer, wet and hot where your leg straddles my thigh. We are lying so still, I can hear our hearts beating in time.
“I want to come,” I whisper hoarsely. “Can I...touch myself?”
“Mmm, no,” you mutter, your eyes still closed. “Not yet.”
Your hand drifts slowly down the center of my abdomen; I hold my breath. I know you might fall asleep any second, and I start to pray that you will touch me. I glance down. My clitoris is visibly swollen, pushing up, throbbing steadily. If you’ll just stroke me, I know I’ll come right away. Now all I can feel is the pressure building between my legs. I lift my hips, trying to get you to move your fingers down—you are so close; I am so close. I only need the briefest pressure to push me over. I’m hanging there now, barely breathing, waiting for you to give me what my body is screaming for.
“Touch me, please, baby,” I beg. “Just rub your fingers over me. I wanna come so bad.”
You don’t answer. Jesus, are you asleep?
Your hand is still and I’m in agony, wondering if you’re asleep. I shift my hips, trying to press my clitoris up against your fingers. My hand edges forward; I can’t help it. It will only take a second, and I am so close alre—
“No.”
Ever so slowly, your fingers move lower between my legs, brushing through my wetness. Helplessly, I groan, and I can feel you smiling against my skin. Slowly you fondle me, sliding my lips between your fingers, tugging them apart. My legs are like steel, they’re so tight. My hands are digging into your shoulders. I’m whimpering, low constant pleas for you to make me come. I’m so stiff, I hurt. Do you know how this is killing me?
“Baby, make me come, please. I have to come. Please.”
“Mmm.” Your fingertips rest on the shaft, pressing firmly. Not moving.
My hips are off the bed now. I’m trying desperately to move your fingers where I need them so badly. I can’t see. I can’t even breathe. You slide down, rubbing the tips of two fingers over the exposed nerve endings. Slow circles, coating the engorged length with my own come.
“You’re going to make me come,” I moan, my whole body twitching now. I think I hear you laugh, but my mind is turning to heat and color—I have no thoughts, only a desperate need for relief. You’re working me between your fingers, and I can feel myself ready to explode. You feel it, too. My insides clench, my clitoris spasms once, hard, and I start coming.
“Now touch yourself,” you order as you push your fingers into me and start pumping.
I’m shouting, coming hard, my fingers stroking in time to the rhythm of your hands pulling the orgasm from me in long, deep thrusts. I stay on myself until the quivering slows; you cup all of me with your hand, squeezing me gently until you milk the last tremor from my exhausted flesh. I contract around your fingers, gripping you tightly. Muscle by muscle I relax against you, still moaning softly as the last of the orgasm trails through my belly.
You let out a sigh of satisfaction and fall asleep. I drift off, your hand still held inside me.
Thane leaned back and blew out a long breath. At least frustration is good for something.
She rubbed both hands over her face, stared out the window, and tried not to imagine what Liz and Gayle were doing at that moment. She had no trouble at all envisioning what Liz would look like in the midst of passion—or after, for that matter. They’d been lovers for four frantic months, right after Liz had started the company and Thane had been preparing her first novel for publication with WomenWords. They’d been good in bed together but had spent most of their waking moments arguing over artistic differences.
Liz thought Thane’s fiction was too edgy for the romance market. Actually, crude had been a term she’d used at one point. Thane had accused Liz of lacking imagination and had suggested that she was a throwback to the days when sex was only alluded to and lovemaking always took place offstage.
“Try reading Rune Dyre, Thane,” Liz had snapped at one point. “She manages to write romance and sex without offending half the readers.”
“Fuck Rune Dyre,” Thane had shot back.
“I’d love to, actually, but I can’t seem to get to her in person.”
The two women had stared at one another for long seconds across the desk in Liz’s office, and then they had burst out laughing at the same time.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t hear you call me crude last night,” Thane had said eventually, her trademark grin lighting up her handsome face.
“No,” Liz had replied with a smile of her own. “I think I called you God.”
“Just let me write it the way I can, Lizzie,” Thane had said softly. “Just trust me to tell the story, and it will work.”
Liz had sighed, and nodded her head. “Go ahead. They’ll either love it or hate it. There are worse fates for a book.”
Or for an author, Thane thought. She stared at the computer screen blankly for another second, then shook off the memories. She proofed the vignette, opened her e-mail, and checked her inbox. Nothing new. Most everyone is here.
-----Original Message-----
From: [email protected]
Sent: Sunday March 23, 5:32 AM
To: [email protected]
Subject: Party Update
Attachment: Afterglow.doc 90kb
Hey Rune:
You missed a good time, buddy. Very swanky place, very, very nice guest list. I met Palmer’s new director, Auden Frost. Seems on top of things, not to mention she’s a knockout. Of course, I was on my best behavior
Looks like Liz will be coming over to marketing at Palmer. That’s a good deal for us, I think. She’s got the connections, and she knows us.
When are you going to send me some of Secret Passions? You’ve been leaving me high and dry lately, and I could use a good hot distraction. Just to motivate you, I’m sending another of mine. So how about a little something in return – huh?
Enjoy it.
Thane
“Too bad this one isn’t a true life story,” Thane muttered as she hit Send. She winced at the cramps in her shoulders as she stood and thought about a shower, just to relax enoug
h to sleep. But the insistent thud of arousal still plagued her, accentuated rather than assuaged by the scene she had written. She decided there were easier and more pleasant ways to put herself to sleep. Swiftly, she closed the drapes, shed her clothes, and slid naked into bed. Then she slipped her hand beneath the sheets.
When I am inside you, surrounding you with my lips, holding your passion on my tongue, there is only you. My own need is but a distant thunder. Now the urgency has come roaring back, and I ache for relief.
Chapter Thirteen
“Aud?”
At the knock on her door, Auden rolled over in bed. She hadn’t been asleep. She’d been lying with her eyes closed, picturing Hays’s face just before they’d kissed. Remembering her expression, almost feverishly intense, yet her touch so controlled, so careful, and her mouth so impossibly soft. Auden felt a rush of heat. I know when I see her I’m going to want to—
“Hey, Aud?”
“Come in,” Auden called, struggling to banish the images.
Gayle entered, waving a sheet of pale red stationary. In her tuxedo pants and a white Calvin Klein shirt that showed off her lithe, graceful figure, she looked annoyingly refreshed and attractive. Indicating her shirt, she announced happily, “I went downstairs to raid the hotel shops before everyone else who is marooned along with us got the same idea. Thank God the manager opened the places that are Four Seasons franchises. She’s got bellmen and assistant managers running the registers—the regular staff couldn’t get in to work because of the storm.”
Auden sat up, pulling the sheet with her. She was naked and tired and disturbingly aroused, and she wasn’t sure if Gayle would be able to tell. She had no idea anymore what might show in her face. “Please tell me you bought clothes for me, too.”
Grinning, Gayle perched on the end of the bed and leaned forward with one arm down on the covers close to Auden’s thigh. Seductively, she asked, “What’s it worth to you, sweet stuff?”
As Auden’s eyes grew wide, Gayle cocked her head and studied Auden’s panic-stricken expression. “Hey, what?” Then, as if making a startling discovery, she shot up straight. “Jesus, Aud. You don’t think...I didn’t mean...I’m not coming on to you.”
Her friend’s concern was so sharp that Auden immediately felt guilty. “Gayle, sweetie, it’s okay. I know you’re not.”
“I wouldn’t do that, cause even if you are gay—”
“Stop. It’s not you,” Auden said with an embarrassed shake of her head. “I’m just all turned around here. It’s as if I suddenly don’t have any skin.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. Her voice was a whisper. “I hardly recognize myself.”
“Oh, Aud.” Gayle placed her palm lightly on the sheet covering Auden’s calf and squeezed gently. “I think you’re beautiful and sexy and smart, but what we have...it’s already special.”
Smiling softly, Auden opened her eyes. “Yes, to me, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“Does it bother you,” Gayle asked carefully, as she studied her hand on Auden’s leg, “when we touch?”
“No,” Auden said swiftly. “No, never. We’re friends, and we’ve always been demonstrative—physically, I mean. Just because we’re both,” she took a deep breath, “attracted to women, doesn’t mean we can’t still be affectionate. Right?”
“Right.” Gayle kept the light contact between them. “You’re pretty sure about this, aren’t you? About being a lesbian, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Auden replied quietly. “It’s kind of hard to deny when I...feel what I feel.”
“Just don’t rush anything, okay?”
Auden heard Hays’s last words, the finality in them. Good night, sweet Auden.
“No, I don’t think there’ll be anything to rush into.” Forcing a smile, she asked, “What did you buy me? And what’s with the red flag?”
“Oh,” Gayle replied. “It’s a notice that was under the door.” She looked down at the single page and read, “Palmer Publishing invites you to join us...blah blah blah...” She met Auden’s inquisitive gaze. “Gee, they’re a very sophisticated bunch. They’re comping us all to brunch today from ten ’til three.”
“What did you buy me to wear?” Auden looked at the clock. It was almost eleven. Hays will be there.
“A red Alberta Ferretti blouse cut down to here.” She demonstrated, pointing to her own chest someplace south of propriety. “Black Versace jeans—”
“Ouch. I can see I’m going to have a big bill.” Auden grinned ruefully, doing the math in her head. “I hadn’t planned on spending my first month’s salary on clothes.”
“Yeah, but you’ll look hot. Besides, it’s my treat. I get to spend a weekend in this place for free.”
“Gayle, no! It’s a fortune.”
“Not really. I’m a discriminating shopper.” She shook Auden’s leg. “If it really bothers you, you can take me out to dinner some night. Now—let me finish.”
“There’s more?” Auden was enjoying herself despite the lingering concern.
“Just the Bally loafers.”
“Underwear? Please say underwear.”
Gayle shrugged. “Yeah, but they’re not designer.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that will matter.” Auden pointed to the door with her index finger. “Bring them, then give me fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
Auden laughed. “Out. Go. Now.”
Gayle just grinned and sauntered out.
-----Original Message-----
From: [email protected]
Sent: Sunday March 23, 11:42 AM
To: [email protected]
Subject: Comments
Attachment: Afterglow-RDcoms.doc 55kb
Thane:
The vignette is good. Better than good. I’ve attached a few comments, but they’re just window dressing.
You’ve always been able to find the right balance in erotica – enough anonymity so that the reader can make of it what she needs to, while adding that critical human connection that makes it so much more than just a sexual exercise.
You’ve never been given enough credit for that skill. You don’t need me for this anthology. For some reason, it’s just not coming together for me.
Do it on your own or get Clary or Morgan to toss in a couple. It will be great.
Best, Rune
Hays hadn’t exaggerated; it was very good. Thane had always been a good writer, and she was getting better. There was something about this last piece that had even more heart to it than usual. But it was going to kill Hays to keep reading these fantasy dreams and desires while she was imagining Thane imagining Auden.
As a reader, she’d always been able to separate herself from the writer and avoid imagining whatever might have been behind a scene or a story or an erotic vignette. Even when she’d been stimulated by the words, it had been her own fantasies come to life that had ultimately released her. But she’d seen Thane with Auden the night before, and just that brief glimpse of them together made it impossible to distance herself from what Thane had written. She wasn’t aroused by Thane’s secret desires. She was jealous.
She’d slept very little, and her dreams had all been of passion hovering just beyond her reach. She’d finally arisen, aching and tired, to shower and return to the Web—a world where she had always found escape and with it, peace. But Thane’s e-mail had changed that. She tried for a while just to ignore the vignette, but the presence of the attachment haunted her. To ignore it was impossible. She and Thane were friends, and they’d been critiquing each other’s work for over two years. They’d supported, cajoled, and teased one another through periods of uncertainty and disappointment, and they’d shared success, as well. In the process, they’d forged a strong personal bond. She couldn’t simply abandon Thane even if Thane was developing an interest in Auden.
It’s not as if I have a hold on her, or any plans to forge one.
When the door to the busine
ss center opened, Hays half expected it to be Auden again. Hoped it would be. She turned at the sound, and her face revealed none of her disappointment.
“Good morning, Abel.”
“I had clean clothes sent up to your room,” he said by way of greeting. “You weren’t in when I rang, so I took the liberty of ordering you a few things.”
“Thank you. How are our guests doing?”
Pritchard stood ramrod straight beside the console where Hays was seated. His voice had the neutral tone of a lieutenant reporting to his commander. “I’ve made arrangements for the brunch, as you requested. I’ve called Alana at home, and she’ll help anyone who needs to change airline reservations or the like from there. A message has been delivered to everyone with that information.”
“Excellent,” Hays replied, although she was only half listening. She had no doubt that Abel had taken care of everything that could be taken care of. “What about the weather report?”
“Unfortunately, snow is expected to accumulate until late this evening. We’re looking at record totals approaching three feet.”
Hays groaned. “So the travel prohibitions are still in effect?”
“The hotel manager, Ms. McMichaels, informs me that City Hall has promised that the roads will be open sometime tomorrow.”
“Airport?”
“Hour to hour, but certainly not before tomorrow evening.”
“All right,” Hays said with a sigh. “Please check in with each of Palmer’s guests this evening to make sure everyone has what they need.”