by KG MacGregor
Carly knew from her experience with Isabel what it was like to be forcibly separated from someone she cared about. "That must have been awful for both of you."
"Nah." Justine waved a hand in front of her face. "It's not like we were in love or anything…more like in lust. I mean, she was nice and all, but it was …purely physical."
"And all you did was kiss?"
"I grabbed her breast!" Justine was indignant that Carly would overlook such an important detail.
"You really like that, don't you?" Now it was Carly who was whispering. She had pulled herself up to a sitting position, again only inches from the redhead's face.
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"No, I love that!"
"What do you love about it?"
"I love the way…it fits in my hand." Reaching out, she covered Carly's breast and gave it a gentle squeeze, not taking her eyes from her next goal, the pink, pleading lips. "I love how it makes me feel…to be able to do that."
"Oh, my…."
Justine crushed those lips with her own, pushing Carly back into the pillows as she crawled over to completely cover the other woman's body.
Chapter 6
Oh my god! Twenty-six years of lustful longings were finally rewarded when Justine's long tongue invaded her mouth. Carly would have responded in kind, but she was too busy trying to get her twisted leg out from underneath her before the other woman's weight snapped it in two.
"Unh!" She finally wriggled it free, only to have Justine draw back.
"Sorry…I–"
Carly cut her off by pulling her forcefully back down for a second searing kiss. No, no, Justine. Please don't ever be sorry for this. The luscious lips were every bit as nice as she remembered and then some. This was the horizontal version of what had happened in the chemistry closet, but this time around it was two women who knew what they wanted.
This wasn't practice…it wasn't exploration…it was desire, and it was pouring out of both of them. Every nerve in Carly's body came to life when she felt the taller woman's thigh settle at the apex of her legs and she couldn't stop herself from surging upward.
"God, Carly…you're just as hot as I remember. I've wanted to do this for almost thirty years." Justine thrust her hand beneath the pullover in search of that breast in its naked form.
Carly matched her move by tugging at the bottom of the red sweater. Justine leaned back and pulled it off in one fluid motion, tossing it onto the couch. "I hope you don't mind a few stretch marks," she mumbled. "Now you."
A red bra! Carly was so captivated by the sexy sight that she forgot that she'd been given a command. Her impatient hostess pushed her top all the way up with both hands and buried her face into that elusive cleavage, unaware that she had covered Carly's face with 56
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her sweater in order to gain access to the prize. Carly was flailing frantically to get her arms out of the tightly-cuffed sleeves so that she could pull the sweater from where it had gathered around her head.
Justine was oblivious to Carly's predicament, drawing the breasts together so that she might feel them on both sides of her face. The blonde woman was proving every bit as irresistible as she had playfully implied. Justine pushed the wire-rimmed bra up as well, freeing the beautiful breasts but worsening her captive's plight.
This was about as clumsy an experience as Carly could remember, but what did she expect? She herself was half drunk, and Justine surely wasn't accustomed to the ass-kicking qualities of Hennessy's VSOP. They probably shouldn't even be doing this, but which one of them was going to stop? It sure as hell isn't going to be me.
Finally, Carly freed her hands and pulled the sweater from her head. The first thing she saw was the redhead's mouth closing over one of her nipples as long fingers pinched the other. Instinctively, she lifted up to unhook her bra, which by this time was rolled up as high as it could go, the underwires digging into the soft tissue of her armpits. She twisted and grimaced, unable to reach the clasp.
"Undo me!"
Justine quickly complied, tossing the bra aside as she returned to suckle a breast. "God, this is nice."
I can't believe we're doing this. I bet this is where the word ‘titillation' comes from. Carly wove her hands through the thick red hair, guiding the lips from one breast to the other.
Just when she thought she'd go crazy with the frenzied state of her nipples, she felt the redhead's hand slipping under her waistband.
"Wait!" Carly needed a little more control here, or she was going to climax in about fifteen seconds and that would be all she wrote. Awkwardly, she tried to sit up, which caused Justine to lose her balance and roll backward onto the floor, where she banged her elbow on the corner of the couch.
"Ow!"
"Sorry…I just…," the blonde continued to struggle, "…you were driving me crazy."
"Good, that's what I was going for." Justine was breathless, and had already started to pucker her lips in anticipation of returning to her feast.
But Carly wasn't ready to concede her fate. She too wanted access to what she knew would be a gorgeous body, and besides, she had this little…inconvenience.
"I want to see you."
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Without a moment's hesitation, Justine lost the red bra and kicked off her shoes. In no time, her jeans were off and added to the growing pile of clothes. Carly too had unfastened her jeans, and was still considering her options when the eager redhead started tugging them down her thighs.
"Wait!" This time, her command had no effect, and the result was a tangle of jeans hopelessly stuck over Carly's zippered half-boots. The more she struggled, the tighter they got, until Justine freed them with a mighty yank, nearly pulling the blonde woman's feet off in the process.
The fire crackled only a few feet away, but it wasn't giving off nearly as much heat as the frolicking pair on the floor. Both women now were down to their panties and socks, and once again, the redhead crawled to lie directly on top, her tongue already searching for the hot mouth as her hands roamed up and down the smooth warm skin.
"You're so hot, Carly." Justine reached again to the other woman's waist, but she was thwarted once more when Carly grabbed her wrist firmly.
"No…I have my period."
The redhead's first reaction was confusion, then colossal disappointment. No! "I don't care."
"I care. I don't…it's…personal."
Justine groaned in frustration.
"But I can still touch you," Carly added hopefully, sliding to the side to allow the redhead to lie back on the pillows. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel."
Carly shifted onto her side and began to trail her fingertips over Justine's nude torso. Her first good look at the woman's breasts made her want to attack them with the same fervor her own had received, but she held back, fighting hard with the cognac in order to savor the experience. When she finally closed her lips over a rigid nipple, she got a delightful surprise.
"Oh, God…that feels so good."
Justine's eyes were closed and she'd raised her arms above her head in complete supplication. Her open mouth gave the appearance of unbridled bliss.
Carly moved to straddle her, and using both hands now, stroked the shapely woman's sides from her hips to her elbows and back. She marveled at the deceptive softness of the sculpted muscles. But most of all, she liked the sounds–the moans, the hisses, and the barely intelligible words–her touches evoked.
"Mmmm…oh, yesssss."
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Carly slipped her fingers under the waistband of the red panties, pushing them down to reveal a full, reddish-brown bush. I can't believe I'm doing this!
Justine raised her hips to allow the panties to be discarded, and instinctively opened her legs to receive whatever else her lover had in mind.
"Take me, Carly."
Oh, my god! In her twenty-six years of fant
asizing about Justine Hall, she'd never imagined a body so inviting, a smell so sweet, or woman so wanting. Carly slipped her fingers into the wet folds and was immediately rewarded.
"Oh, yessss…I love that! Go inside."
Carly did, sliding two fingers inside the warm wetness.
"More…fill me up." Justine's hips had begun to undulate in the rhythm of her lover's strokes. "That's it…now fuck me."
Oh, god…that almost did it right there. Her own hips were rocking reflexively against a pillow, but Carly shifted so that her center made contact with Justine's well-toned thigh.
In and out she pumped her hand, her own moans now mixing with those of her lover.
"You're so good, Carly. That's so nice…I love your hand inside me…fucking me…it makes me wanna come so bad." Justine had thrown one arm over her face. Her hips climbed higher to deepen the thrusts. "Oh god that's so good, Carly…oh god that's good…oh god…oh!"
And with that, both Carly and Justine exploded in a million pieces.
**********
A long arm snaked from beneath the blanket, slapping aimlessly in the direction of whatever contraption was making that ungodly noise. A dark head followed as a hand finally made contact with the snooze alarm.
Justine felt as though she'd been trampled by horses, most of which had galloped on through her mouth. With colossal effort, she dragged herself to a sitting position, swinging her feet from underneath the covers to find the floor. Staring back at her from the mirrored closet was a beast of a woman. Even from here, she could see streaked mascara and matted hair, and the red eyes glowed like something out of a horror movie.
She was nude, except for the dark blue socks. She hadn't slept a whole night in the nude since before her first child was born.
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She had no recollection whatsoever of going to bed the night before. In fact, her last clear memory was…she and Carly were talking about…no, she and Carly were…. Images of beautiful naked breasts suddenly filled the space behind her eyes, accompanied soon after by a vague recollection of…. "Oh, my."
To her horror, a pile of something beneath the covers behind her shifted. Still focused on the mirror, Justine leaned slowly to the side to discover that something lay beyond her in the bed. That something was a someone. And if her memory served her correctly, that someone was Carly Griffin.
And with that realization, Justine was going to throw up.
Her stomach roiled as she stood, a hand going up at once to prevent her head from falling backward off her neck. Gingerly, she stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door.
"You've really done it now, Justine," she groaned into the mirror as she took stock of her puffy face. She turned on the water in the shower, adding an extra twist to the hot valve in hopes that the steam and heat would clear her head and cleanse her wicked soul.
"What did you think you were doing?" she asked herself as she stepped under the near scalding spray. Bit by bit, the water and soap restored her senses, only serving to illuminate her growing guilt. After all these years of wishing she and Carly had just gone ahead and done it all, they finally had. If that had happened back in high school, all the questions that had dogged her would have been answered with crystal clarity. There would have been no JT in her life…but also no Trey and no Emmy. It was way too late to be second-guessing all that. She'd chosen the kids then, and she was choosing them again now. She didn't have a place in her life for Carly Griffin. There was a price to pay in Leland for such things.
**********
"You'll feel better after you get something in your stomach." Nadine set a plate of country ham and eggs in front of her daughter.
"No thanks, Mama." Carly made a face and pushed the plate toward her father's chair.
Right away, her dad took a seat and popped the runny yolks with his fork.
"Mmmm…runny yellows, just like I like 'em. Nadine, we got any of that cottage cheese left?" He dipped his toast into the center of the egg and raised the dripping crust to his mouth.
Carly grimaced at the combination. She'd never known her father to eat such things at breakfast.
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"I was going to throw that cottage cheese out. It's got a little mold on the top, but I can scrape it off if you want me to."
"Naw, that's alright. Just bring me some ketchup."
"You want a beer?"
"Sure. That'd go good."
Nadine plucked a cold one from the refrigerator and set it in front of her husband.
My father is having a beer with breakfast? Carly was ready to gag when she finally realized her parents' game.
"Oh, you guys are hilarious." She grabbed her coffee cup and walked out, trying in vain to tune out their knee-slapping laughter.
She'd tried to slip in unnoticed just after dawn, but her mother met her at the back door, unable to resist pointing out that she looked like something the cat dragged in. Carly astutely observed that they didn't have a cat, but her mother replied that she didn't want one if they were going to drag in things like that.
There was no sympathy for the younger Griffin. Instead, her parents had conspired to make her morning even more miserable than it already was.
And there was no denying that it was a miserable morning. She'd awakened in Justine's bed dressed only in her panties and socks with no idea on earth about how she'd gotten there. She had vague memories of some of the things they'd done on the floor in front of the fire. Two vivid reminders of their exuberant frolic were the rug burns on her knees.
I finally had sex with Justine Hall and I barely remember it.
But the worst part had been the demeanor of the woman who had been her passionate lover only hours earlier. Without the cognac, Justine obviously didn't find her all that attractive, and she'd been very anxious for Carly to leave before the neighbors were out and about. They'd shared an awkward hug at the door, but Justine hadn't even met her eye, and the smile that Carly had enjoyed of late was gone.
**********
Justine was being very careful to hold her head as still as possible. She feared that even the slightest movement would cause her brains to fall out, and that the sight of them on the floor would make her throw up.
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The redhead had never been much of a drinker. She'd always appreciated the relaxing qualities of a glass or two of wine, but a handful of dreadful hangovers in college taught her the value of avoiding having too much to drink. And if those hangovers in college had been dreadful, the one she was having right now might kill her outright.
"Good morning, Mr. Newton. What can I do for you?" Harold Newton ran the local fish market, the odor of his clothes an unfortunate reminder of that.
"I was in here on Saturday to get my hand sewed up. I nearly hacked it off with the electric saw when I was cutting some frozen salmon steaks."
Justine looked away as Harold began to remove his bandage. "If you're having a problem with your wound, you'll need to go back to the emergency room. I'm sure they can help you."
"Well, I aim to do that, but I wanted to make sure that they don't mess up and bill me twice for this, 'cause I figure I already paid for it once, and if they didn't do it right, I shouldn't have to pay again. When somebody brings back a fish and it's slimy or diseased, I don't make 'em buy a new fish."
The thought of slimy fish threatened to push Justine over the edge. "Mr. Newton, it's very important that you get your injury taken care of first. Sometimes, a wound can get worse if it's allowed to get wet or dirty–"
"Well, I have to work for a living. And see, that's what started it. On Monday, it got all red and the skin around it turned yellow…you know, crusty."
Justine really didn't need to hear this.
"And then by Tuesday, it started leaking a little runny blood. Hurt like a son of a gun."
The redhead's stomach lurched in agony at the mental image H
arold described.
"And it oozed all day yesterday," he finished unwrapping it and laid it directly in front of Justine. "Then this morning, I got up and there was this big ole pus ball."
Oh, no. "Mr. Newton, you're gonna have to…" she pushed up from her desk and began walking backward to the file room, "…go on down to the…," she raised her hand to her mouth and mumbled the last of her message, "emergency room."
Now racing around the corner, she stuck her head in the trash can and tossed the acids in her stomach. Why on God's green earth did Harold Newton have to pick today of all days to come in here with the nastiest infection Justine had ever seen?
After the night she'd had, she deserved her body's revolt. Life was all about balance. If you're going to eat chocolate, there's going to be a consequence, whether it be extra pounds or extra miles on the treadmill. And the going rate for half a bottle of cognac 62
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seemed to be a stomach lining. But the jury was still out on what she'd have to pay for her roll on the floor with Carly Griffin.
Peeking around the door frame, Justine was immensely relieved to find that Mr. Newton had apparently taken his "big ole pus ball" down to the emergency room. She returned to her desk and rummaged in the drawer for an antacid.
What am I gonna do about Carly? She felt awful about the way she'd practically thrown the woman out this morning. And the irony of it was that she'd wanted her to go before the neighbors got up, but when the people on her street left for work this morning, they were bound to notice the tracks in the snow. The footprints led one-way from her front door right up the hill to Stony Ridge, so anybody with half a brain cell could put together the fact that she'd had company overnight. And if they happened to have a whole brain cell, they'd remember who Justine knew that lived over on Stony Ridge. Heck, by four o'clock this afternoon, the whole town would know that Carly Griffin had slept over, and somebody would be saying that they had seen the pictures.