Radclyffe & Stacia Seaman - Romantic Interludes 2 - Secrets
Page 16
“I have a good eye, but if it will make you feel better, I’m happy to do it.” She looked at me in a way that could only be described as seductive, but merely for a moment, then she got up slowly, moved to her desk, and pulled a pearled tape measure from a drawer.
“Should I take my dress off?” I asked, breathless.
“No, simply hold it up for me.” I bunched the skirt up. She dropped the tape from my waist to the floor and then moved to her desk to jot down a number on a pad. Setting the pen down, she picked up a paper tape and, returning, wrapped it around my middle quickly and tightly, as if capturing me rather than measuring me. She flicked my tummy with her middle finger, teasing me into letting the air out. “Don’t hold your breath or you’ll be cursing me from the cruise liner. The pants should hang naturally.”
She took the metal tape and dropped it down my inseam. “Do you like it here?” The back of her hand touched my upper thigh just below the crotch. “Or do you prefer it just a little tighter?” The palm of her hand cupped my crotch just for a split second and I nearly lost the ability to answer her question.
“Tighter,” I managed to whisper, not really wanting my pants that tight but wanting that feeling again.
She cupped her hand there again without any emotion. “You might change your mind. Why don’t we split the difference?” She moved away and jotted another number on the pad. “We’d best get you on your way.”
She held the door and I sailed through it as if running away. I bade her good-bye and hurried to my car, still tingling between my legs. I drove home not knowing where I was until I pulled into the driveway and sat in the car still gasping for air.
*
I had forgotten to find out what time we were to meet over the next few days. And when I called the shop, I could hear repair work taking place again and inquired of the slight hammering. Giselle said they were in constant renovation and explained quickly that Madame had everything she needed from me and would call me when the garment was ready.
For two days I paced and fretted and checked with her assistants, but they said she was out.
The day before I was to leave on our cruise, a vacation I no longer wanted to take because it took me from her, a package arrived by messenger. Inside were a gorgeous pair of gold silk pants and a jacket, along with a note: “Ma chéri, my apologies for being unavailable. This is my gift to you. Bon voyage.”
We took the cruise, Max and I, our stateroom luxurious. I never told him about the elegant garments that reminded me of Madame Broussard. I had them with me but kept them folded in my luggage where I looked at them and ran my fingers across them daily. I wanted nothing more of Max and, in fact, found her memory more arousing than his presence. And he, only slightly less interested in me, remarked after my refusing to sleep with him that he thought we should part. I was relieved because I had tried to form those very words but could not decide how.
When our ship came into port, I kissed him lightly on the cheek and told him my attorney would phone his. Then I hailed a cab and went immediately to the Rue de LaSalle. It was past five and I worried that the shop had already closed. When I got out of the cab, the storefront windows were shuttered, and I told the driver to wait.
Giselle popped her head out as if she’d been expecting me and waved happily. “Madame is waiting. May I take your cab?” I nodded yes and she hopped in. I thought how fortunate to have run into her and went inside, doing as Giselle asked, locking the door behind me.
“How was your cruise, Madame LeDoux?” Madame Broussard stepped into the room once so bustling with people and now entirely empty. She was wearing a strawberry-colored gown that matched her hair and looked breathtaking. “Was Messer LeDoux pleased?”
“No. Nor was I. We were not pleased with each other…and so I chose not to grace him with such gorgeous attire.”
“Ahh,” she purred. “Sometimes lingerie is not enough.”
“I’m filing for divorce.” I stepped closer to her and could smell her perfume.
“A step not to be taken lightly.” She seemed to be referring to the step I’d taken in her direction. “Please come to my fitting room.” She turned and led me into a room that was tufted and comfortable like a parlor, although clearly designed for fitting clothing.
She handed me a glass of wine. “Why have you come directly here?” This time her eyes rested on mine and the light danced in them.
“Why were you expecting me?” I asked boldly.
“Because years ago a Cajun woman read the tarot cards and told me that I would meet a woman who would come in on a ship from across the sea and we would be together. I took the shop on LaSalle so I could be near the ocean.”
My throat tightened.
“You will need a place to stay. Will you come here?” she asked.
“Like one of your girls?” My question didn’t seem to offend her.
“Not at all like that. By the way…” She leaned in and slid her hand between my thighs and held me there. “Were you happy with the fit?”
I grew weak as she pulled me onto the long tufted ottoman and began to expertly untangle my clothing, her nimble fingers seeming to caress as they undressed. Her lips, shimmering hot, covered mine and I moaned as her talented kisses liquefied me. Her hand expertly crested the top of my panty hose and slid down between my legs and into me, causing my body to undulate in waves as the tight garment pressed her even farther inside.
“We hardly know each other,” I managed to whisper.
“How wonderful that is. Nothing to dislike and everything to love.”
And as she rocked on top of me, driving herself into me, and I moved in ecstasy beneath her, one end of the ottoman hit the wood-paneled wall, banging rhythmically against it, and I remembered hearing that sound. Like a carpenter working, pounding something into the wall. And for one alarmed moment, I realized it was me being pounded and that perhaps this very scene had taken place before on this very couch.
But Madame Broussard’s voluptuous breast was in my mouth and her hands were creating melodies inside my soul, and she whispered that I was the one the gypsy woman had promised her. And so I chose to believe the rhythmic sounds of the ottoman banging into the wall were unique to our lovemaking and unrelated to any more mundane hammering. After all, repair work went on constantly in New Orleans.
D. Jackson Leigh is a Georgia peach transplanted to North Carolina. She has worked the past thirty years as a print journalist and played an endless parade of sports. A hopelessly romantic Sagittarian, she has a deep-seated love for anything equine, her Jack Russell Terror, her blue-eyed partner, and women’s basketball…not necessarily in that order. Her Bold Strokes novels include the romances Bareback and the forthcoming Longshot (2010).
Box Full of Surprises
D. Jackson Leigh
“Sky, what are you so nervous about?” Jessica clamped a firm hand on Skyler’s bouncing knee and smiled at her partner. The long leg stilled, but Skyler’s brown eyes continued to dart around the room as though she were a long-tailed cat and the women waiting patiently along with them were all sitting in rocking chairs.
“They’re all pregnant!”
Jessica chuckled. “Well, that’s why they’re in Dr. Nichols’s office, you goof. What did you expect?”
“Well, what if one of them squirts out a baby right here, right now?” Skyler’s whisper carried, and a dark-haired woman sitting near them smiled into her magazine.
Jessica was having a hard time believing this nervous, apparently naïve, woman sitting next to her was the same six-foot, androgynous blond charmer who ran a large equestrian breeding and training facility. She wasn’t even pregnant yet, and Skyler was a wreck. She was beginning to think having Skyler as her demanding trainer when she had prepared for the Olympics might have been easier than living through nine months of pregnancy with her.
“How can the sight of a pregnant woman throw you into such a panic? Is this what I’ve got to look forward to for nine months?”
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br /> “No.” Skyler scowled and clutched Jessica’s hand. “It’s just…well…”
“Skyler, women, like horses, get pregnant every day. They carry babies full term, then have a normal birth—every day.”
“But…”
“You’ve been watching Emergency Doctors on the Surgery Channel again, haven’t you?”
Skyler shrugged sheepishly.
“Honey, they only show the bad cases on that medical show. Every pregnancy doesn’t end in an emergency. This is not rocket science. We’re just planning to have a baby.”
“Okay. I know, I know. I’ll chill.” Skyler sighed and playfully bumped shoulders with Jessica. “We’ll be fine.”
“We don’t have to do this, Skyler, if you’re going to have a stroke over it.”
“No. You know I want us to have kids. I love kids.”
“I know, honey. By the third or fourth, you’ll be an old hand at this,” Jessica teased.
Skyler gulped. “Th-third or fo-fourth?”
“Kidding. I’m kidding.”
Skyler blew out a breath of relief, her confidence returning. “On the other hand, four would be enough to have our own polo team.”
Jessica gave Skyler a look. “Then you better be looking for maternity clothes in your size, too, or filling out some adoption papers.”
“Ms. Black?”
Saved by the nurse, Skyler thought. She stood when Jessica did, shifting uncertainly from foot to foot.
“Do you want me…uh, you know, to go with you?” Skyler asked. They had discussed talking to the doctor together, but Skyler wasn’t sure about being in the room while the doctor examined her lover.
“We’re in this together, all the way.” Jessica pulled her toward the waiting nurse, chuckling at Skyler’s wide eyes. “Buck up, stud. At least you won’t be the one with your feet up in the stirrups.”
*
“So why aren’t we visiting our regular GYN for this?” Skylar frowned, uncomfortable knowing her lover was naked under a thin paper sheet and some guy was going to be coming in at any moment to take a peek under it. Dr. Taylor Nichols. Sounded like some preppy frat boy who went into gynecology so he could spend all day looking under women’s paper things. She tugged at the covering, trying to tuck it tightly around Jessica’s slim hips.
“Because, honey, Dr. Nichols specializes in in vitro fertilizations and fertility cases. Anita referred us here to give us the best chance of getting pregnant quickly.”
At that moment, a knock sounded and a petite fortysomething woman hurried into the room. Jessica sat up on the table and Skyler stood protectively by her side.
“Hi, I’m Taylor Nichols.” The woman smiled and extended her hand to Jessica. “And I’m guessing you’re Jessica, since you’re the one modeling our latest paper wear.”
Then the doctor turned to Skyler and her smile became a grin. “And you must be Skyler, the bodyguard…I mean, partner.”
Jessica snorted.
“Taylor is a woman’s name.” Skyler pointedly stared at the wedding rings on Dr. Nichols’s left hand and muttered, “A straight woman.”
“Isn’t that a stereotype, taking for granted that my wedding rings were put there by a man?” Dr. Nichols asked good-naturedly. “Although in this case, you’re right.”
Skyler’s eyes narrowed. This woman better be straight. She was just too cute to be putting her hands in Jessica’s private places…places only Skyler touched now. Jessica laughed and wrapped a reassuring arm around Skyler’s waist.
“Don’t mind her. She’s just a little—no, a lot—nervous.”
“Fair enough.” Dr. Nichols chuckled. “Now, lay back, Jessica, and let’s check things out real quick.”
The exam was fast. Fifteen minutes later, Jessica was dressed and they were all sitting in Dr. Nichols’s office.
“Your lab work looks good and the exam was normal. I’m glad you’ve already begun charting your cycle. It looks pretty regular, which is very helpful. I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to get pregnant.”
Skyler and Jessica smiled at each other.
“Now, are you planning to use a donor or a sperm bank?”
“I have a male twin,” Skyler explained, “and he has agreed to donate to the cause.” She was hoping, though, that the baby would have Jessica’s dark hair and pale blue eyes.
“A twin? Excellent. You two are very lucky. So, do you want to do this in the office or at home?”
“Well,” Skyler looked at Jessica for support, “my brother teaches at Princeton, but he’s agreed to ship us some sticks. We’d like to try it at home. I think I know the fundamentals because I have artificially bred horses many times. It’s basically the same equipment, isn’t it?”
“Sticks?”
“Uh, that’s what we call tubes of, uh, you know, when we breed horses. Popsicle sticks, because they come frozen.” She was having trouble saying the word semen while talking about her brother.
“Well, yes, it is basically the same procedure. Your mission is to deposit the donated sperm so that it coats the cervix at the right time during Jessica’s cycle. Orgasm at the time of insemination greatly increases the chances of fertilization by helping the cervix dip into the vaginal pool and suck up the sperm. The sperm is deposited most commonly with a needleless syringe. That’s rather clinical, however, so one medical equipment manufacturer has just released a device that allows couples to simulate a more natural insemination if they wish. It is rather more expensive, of course.”
Skyler didn’t comprehend what the doctor was trying to explain, but Jessica seemed to.
“Do you have equipment you can show us?” Jessica asked politely.
“We keep a few in stock, so you can take one home with you today if you want.” The doctor punched a few buttons on her phone and when the nurse answered, said, “Could you bring us one of the home kits?”
“Do you know what she’s talking about?” Skyler murmured.
“I think so, honey.” Jessica squeezed Skyler’s hand. “Just wait, and we’ll see.”
After the nurse delivered a plain brown shoebox-sized box, Dr. Nichols handed it to Jessica. She peeked inside, then closed it again, brushing Skyler’s hand away when she reached for the box.
“The instructions are there if you need any. It’s pretty simple.” Dr. Nichols’s tone was totally clinical. “If you’ve handled livestock sperm, you’re familiar with the basic precautions. This method is a little different because you have to remember to push the plunger slowly at the right moment. The ideal time to start pushing would be as the orgasm begins to build. This requires good communication and a sure hand. You want the entire sperm sample already deposited in the vagina when the orgasm hits its peak.”
“You can handle that, can’t you, stud?” Jessica teased softly.
Skyler was mute. Images of a naked Jessica, knees up, opening herself flashed through her brain.
“Of course, if you’re unsure, we can do this in the office,” Dr. Nichols offered.
Jessica tucked the box under her arm.
“No, no. I think we’ll give this a try.”
*
Jessica had learned during their past year together that Skyler’s body language often screamed thoughts and feelings she couldn’t voice. The flush on her cheeks and the faraway look made Jessica stop at the four-star hotel just down the road from the doctor’s office. She didn’t even mind the wink from the butch desk clerk over the “no luggage.” She just smiled, grabbed Skyler’s hand, and headed for the elevators.
When they reached the room, Jessica pulled Skyler inside, kicked the door shut, and pinned her against the wall. Their kisses were hot and deep. She made quick work of the buttons of Skyler’s shirt, immediately found the clasp of her bra, and pulled a tight nipple between her lips.
Skyler moaned and her knees sagged. Jessica tugged at Skyler’s belt buckle, then the zipper, before sliding the soft jeans and gray boy-shorts down Skyler’s long, muscled legs.
Her mouth watered at the scent of Skyler’s arousal. She dropped to her knees and dove in without ceremony. Nothing turned her on more than this most intimate of acts.
Skyler’s strangled “oh” and trembling thighs gave Jessica a sense of power that fired the heat between her own legs. She felt the pulse of Skyler’s sex when she pressed her lips to it, then ran her tongue the length of her lover’s clitoris to gather the growing moisture before grasping it in her teeth and sucking hard. It never failed to bring Skyler to a quick, shattering climax.
Skyler slid down the wall, her orgasm robbing her of her remaining strength. “Holy Christ, babe. Where’d that come from?” Jessica’s stare was still hungry. “Not that I’m complaining, but you still have all your clothes on and I’m naked as a jaybird.”
“Then we’ll just have to fix that,” Jessica said, pulling Skyler to her feet and dragging her to the bed. Skyler reached for Jessica’s shirt, but Jessica grabbed her hands, stopping her. “No. You just stand there, lover. I’m in charge of this show.”
This was the only woman who could tell Skyler what to do, but command her she did. Jessica would always own her, heart and soul. Skyler watched Jessica retrieve the box that she had dropped to the floor earlier and place it on the bed. Then Jessica slowly, very slowly pulled her polo shirt over her head. She ran her fingers over her lace-covered breasts and unclasped her bra, hook by hook. She pinched and pulled her nipples until they grew hard.
Skyler groaned when Jessica dropped her slacks to the floor, then turned her back to bend over and slowly lower her string bikini panties over creamy white hips. Jessica knew her backside was Skyler’s prime trigger, and she used it often to torture her.
“I’ve been wanting to test-drive one of these with you,” Jessica said, her voice low and silky, as she handed the box to Skyler.
Skyler felt her face and chest flush with arousal when she looked inside and found a firm dildo of simulated flesh with a thonglike latex harness. Unlike the ones available in an adult toy store, this one had a built-in syringe to load and ejaculate semen.