“Maybe it can supplement my income on the road.”
"I gave it a try a few years ago,” she admits. “Realized I'm better at waiting on people that making the drinks for them."
Naomi leans her hip against the counter. “You're a good cook though.”
“Over a bonfire,” Dylan laughs. “It's much different when you give me a stove and ask for anything other than macaroni.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” A lofty silence hangs between them. Dylan drinks nearly her whole drink before Naomi speaks again. “Are you hungry? We could order something. I’m afraid I don’t have much else here besides a few snacks.“
“Nah, I ate earlier.” Her eyes tunnel in on Naomi’s chest before flicking back up to meet her eyes.
“Okay..." Naomi drawls, stepping closer. Barely two inches stand between them. "How about we do something fun?”
Dylan sets her glass down. She places her hands on the soft curves of Naomi’s hips, gripping slightly. She loves women, all of them, but she especially loves how soft and lush Naomi’s body is. Perfect shape to fill the palms of her hands; perfect everywhere. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against the other. Her voice drops. “Like what?”
“Me," Naomi whispers.
Dylan smirks. "And where should we partake in this activity at?
Naomi takes her hand. "Follow me."
They walk to the living area, hand in hand. Naomi lies back against the futon, pulling Dylan down atop her. Their bodies meld to one another, breasts against breasts. She starts softly kissing the warm crook of Naomi's neck, relishing the sounds that tumble forth.
“Take these off,” she murmurs into a kiss, pulling at Naomi’s shirt.
“You too.”
They take a moment to undress quickly—pants and shirts flying to various parts of the floor. Dylan moves lower once they’re completely naked, past collar bones and onto pert breasts. Where her own are small, Naomi's are large and lush- perfect for kissing and sucking and doing all the things that make Naomi arch from the couch.
Naomi pushes her lower still. She trails her mouth past a warm stomach and dark curls. With little effort, she repositions herself between Naomi's legs. She uses her lips and tongue to part Naomi's lips, exposing the pink wetness waiting for her there.
"God," Naomi groans at first contact. "You are so good at this."
“I haven’t even started,” she teases. But the praise encourages Dylan to increase the fervor of her licks. She uses the flat of her tongue to press against Naomi’s straining clit. Naomi tastes incredible. Beyond anything Dylan could’ve ever imagined. She will never get enough of this taste, these sounds, the movements against her mouth.
Her fingers spread Naomi apart, entering two fingers easily and curling them inside. Naomi gasps; Dylan takes it as encouragement and slides in another.
“Oh,” Naomi moans. “Fuck yes. Yes. That’s good.”
Dylan moans against the straining clit, the vibrations there driving Naomi higher. Her lips pull and tease against wet flesh as her fingers stretch and curl and fill Naomi fuller than she’s ever felt. Her free hand wraps around Naomi’s thigh, then slides up and over to massage a straining nipple between her fingers.
“Come here.”
Confused, Dylan pulls back and looks to her lover. “What?”
“Come here,” Naomi says, tugging Dylan upwards. “I want to feel you against me.”
She crawls until she’s hovering above Naomi. They rearrange themselves until Naomi can reach between Dylan’s legs and Dylan can reach between hers. Simultaneously, both begin touching and rubbing and grinding against one another—driving each higher and closer to the precipice.
Naomi feels so wet, and Dylan revels in the fact she’s that wet because of her. It’s so sexy, so incredibly mind-blowing, that she makes Naomi get this way. Though her past excursions are limited, there hasn’t been anything that comes remotely close to comparing with this.
Their bodies slide hotly, wetly against one another. Dylan breathes in Naomi’s air. Her gasps. Her very essence. She pumps back against Naomi’s long fingers, filling and stretching herself more than ever before. Creaking noises emerge from the futon from their movements. Dylan sinks her face into Naomi’s neck, tasting her scent there. Feeling her heartbeat through the tender flesh. Her own fingers still as Naomi hits that spot. The thought of Naomi inside of her like this is enough to send her flying. She comes, and comes hard—pulsing and throbbing tightly around Naomi’s fingers.
“Fuck,” she chokes out, riding through the waves of her orgasm. Her hips thrust and jerk, trying to eke out every ounce of pleasure she can get. It’s been a long ass time since she’s been even close to coming like this.
She takes a second to breathe. Nothing but pure contentment flows through her torso, her limbs—radiating from her very core. Her eyes finally blink open. She raises up slightly to catch Naomi’s glance. “Wow.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” Naomi whispers, grinning widely. Her legs drop open further as Dylan begins moving her fingers in and out of her again. “You don’t have to yet…”
“I want to,” she says.
Naomi bites her lip and tilts her neck back slightly. “If this weirds you out, I understand. But there’s a box under the futon. It has a vibrator in it.”
“Are you asking me to use it on you?”
Naomi meets her eye. “If you want to.”
Dylan has only used toys with one other person before, but it wasn’t someone she liked very much. Getting to use them with someone she really likes will be one hell of an adventure. “Hell yes, I do.”
Dylan reaches the small distance under the futon, smacking things around until she locates the box. Vibrators, a strap-on, lube, harnesses and clit cream amongst other things fill the inside. Her eyebrows rise. She knew Naomi probably had an adventurous side, but she didn’t expect so many things to be in a box under her futon. She grabs a slim, pink vibrator and the clitoral cream before shoving the box back under the couch.
She holds up the small silver tin. “You mind?”
Naomi grins, spreading her legs open again. “Not at all.”
Dylan rubs some of the minty-smelling cream around Naomi’s apex. It slides on easily, providing stimulation and lubrication. Naomi bites and licks her lips, preparing herself for what’s to come. Her breath comes out in short gasps already, only intensifying when Dylan turns on the vibrator and begins rubbing it up and down her wetness. It feels absolutely delicious.
Comfortably sitting between Naomi’s legs, Dylan begins tracing the vibrator around Naomi’s clit. She lowers it to circle her entrance, and then slowly drawls it back up again. The noises slipping from Naomi’s plump lips only serve to turn her on all over again.
Naomi begins arching up from the couch, wordlessly begging for more. The vibrator trails up and down one last time before making a home against Naomi’s clit. She gasps. It doesn’t even come close to feeling this good when she does this herself.
Dylan presses against the vibrator slightly, causing tremors of pleasure to course through Naomi’s body. She’s so beautiful like this—legs splayed, eyes clenched shut, mouth slightly agape. Her hands claw at the couch, trying to ground her before she completely unravels.
“Come for me,” Dylan urges, running her free hand up the smooth skin of Naomi’s thigh. “I want to watch you come.”
“Oh shit,” Naomi rasps. She spreads her lips with her fingers, exposing herself to Dylan like never before. Welcoming the overwhelming vibrations now flowing through her. “I’m gonna come. I’m go—I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Her mouth hangs in a silent gasp. All of her muscles tense at once, holding briefly, before she cries out and comes apart right in front of Dylan’s eyes. She presses herself against the vibrator, accepting all it has to offer as she throbs against it. Dylan finds herself breathing just as hard. What a beautiful, awe-filled sight it is to watch Naomi come like that right in front of her.
Naom
i finally pushes the vibrator away and falls against the couch in a jelly-like heap. Dylan knows she’s completely spent and will be for a while after coming like that, so she drops the vibrator to the floor and climbs to lie on top of Naomi’s tired body.
Minutes or hours later Dylan, lying against Naomi’s bare chest, traces light patters on her skin. She knows what she wants to say, but isn’t sure if she should. But this, right here with this woman, is the most perfect moment she’s ever had. She never wants it to end. She never wants what they have together to end. It’s too special; too important to leave behind.
Dylan doesn’t want to end her life on the road yet. In fact, she’s not even close to settling down somewhere. The very thought freaks her out and depresses her all at the same time. She’s happy doing what she’s doing now. Beyond happy, really. But Naomi isn’t happy. All she talks about is leaving or how to leave. Naomi wants the life Dylan has; Dylan is in the perfect spot to share it with her. Maybe, just maybe, Naomi feels ready to make the leap.
God. Dylan breaths come quicker. Her heart pounds. Please.
This is it. It’s now or never.
“You should come with me,” she finally says.
Naomi tenses almost imperceptibly beneath her, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. “What?”
She pushes forward, sitting up slightly to meet Naomi’s gaze. “When I leave. You should come with me.”
“Dylan...” Naomi plays with the ends of Dylan’s short hair. “I can't leave everything behind.”
“I’ll help you. It's not as hard as it seems.” Dylan breaths so quickly her lungs barely have time to fill. She feels faint. “We can pack up and head out next week. Go anywhere you want to go. I can show you the ropes. And if you don’t like being with me, you’ll at least know how to go off and travel on your own.”
Naomi sits up now, slightly covering herself with the blanket draped across the back of the futon. Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again before speaking. “I can't leave my job. My family. I’m not ready.”
“Why not?” Dylan urges. It’s a losing battle, and she knows it, but she can’t stop the words tumbling from her mouth. “You have the perfect trade for a traveler. Money wouldn't be hard to come by with that talent.”
Silence blankets the space around them. Not like the silence in the woods or in the van. No, this is deafening.
“But I barely know you,” Naomi whispers. “It’s been, what? Three weeks?”
Dylan sits up fully now. She’s exposed, both physically and mentally. Vulnerable and open and prepared to be crushed. With one last effort, she encases Naomi’s hand in her own. “You can't tell me you don't feel this. I know you do.”
Naomi swallows thickly. She weighs her options for countless moments. An eternity in a minute. Finally, she shakes her head. “I'm sorry. I can't throw my life away for this.”
For you hangs between them.
A blow Dylan expected, but is no less prepared for. The reject burns, searing her from the inside out. There’s no way she imagined the depths of what they feel for one another. She knows this is real; that this is it for her. No one will ever compare to Naomi…how the hell did she get herself into this mess?
She abruptly stands, yanking on her pants. “Did you ever think you'd be gaining a life instead? You just have no idea.” She shakes her head. “This is why I don't get involved with stationary people. They aren’t—they don’t know how to be flexible. Life is so much more than work and bills. You just have no idea.”
Naomi reaches out, barely ghosting the skin on Dylan’s arm. “Dyl...”
“No, it's okay. Really. Better to find this out now that later.” She pulls on her shirt and ruffles her short hair. “I'm just—I'm gonna go.”
Naomi’s face crumples. “You don't have to leave.”
“I’m always leaving.” She reaches the door, turning to take one last look. Dylan studies her, from head to toe, knowing it’s the last she’ll ever see of her. Noami’s face crumples, and Dylan turns before she can watch any tears fall. “Goodbye, Naomi.”
She steps into the cool night air, resolutely pulling the door shut behind her.
Chapter 7
Dylan lies on the bed in the back of her van. After storming out, she drove down random side roads in a flurry of tears and anger until she could barely see the road and had to park. She stares at the ceiling long and hard, contemplating this mess that is her life. If Davie was still here, moving on wouldn’t be so hard. Being with him made everything better. They could hike off any bad day, cuddle away the painful parts of this vagabond life. But for now, all she has is herself and the racing thoughts filing her head.
She could leave now. There’s no protocol that says she has to tell Naomi first. In fact, she never has to see her again if she doesn’t want to. She probably never will anyway. Finding someone on the road is hard; getting lost is easy.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Maybe a good drink would clear her mind. It’s been a hard night. She deserves a splurge. Anything would be better than lying in her bed all night feeling sorry for herself. Sitting up, she checks her phone for any gay bars in the area. Nada. Not like that’s surprising. Idaho isn’t exactly the gay hub of America. Then she looks for any old bar—a drink is a drink after all.
After scrolling through some bars, she settles on a well-reviewed club that sometimes offers live shows and discounted drinks. It’s only 15 minutes away from where she’s currently parked, too. Can’t beat that.
Dylan yanks off her comfy sex-smelling clothes that remind her of Naomi in favor of her black jeans and white t-shirt. Pretty soon she thinks her entire wardrobe will just be a collection of dark pants and white shirts. She contemplates putting on some mascara for a moment, but decides against it last minute. Makeup hasn’t really been her style in a long time. No reason to start now. With a ruffle to her short hair, she hops into the driver’s seat and heads downtown.
The bright, neon lights reflect off of the glossy bartop. She hasn’t been to a club in years and now she remembers why. Strobe lights, pulsing music—it’s far too upbeat for the way she feels inside. Maybe it’ll pull her from this funk though. Probably more so than any pub or dive bar where everyone could see the sorrow etched on her face plain as day.
She can’t believe she misjudged Naomi so badly. Well, not Naomi but the situation. She was sure—well almost sure that Naomi would say yes and go with her. They didn’t have to travel forever, just for the summer. Naomi could’ve come home at any time. Maybe she just didn’t feel as strongly for Dylan and lifestyle as she lead Dylan to believe.
A woman walks up to the bar, heady and in charge. She leans over the counter next to Dylan, waiting for the bartender’s attention. The lady looks attractive enough, even though it’s hard to really tell from this angle.
Why the hell not. She plasters on her best grin. “Hey,” she says.
Turning slightly towards her, the woman smiles. Her teeth are perfect. She’s more attractive than originally thought. “Hi, there.”
“Want a drink?”
“If you’re offering,” the woman responds, smile still in place. “I can’t say no to that.”
Dylan orders two vodkas with a splash of lime. Basic, but palatable. Hopefully it won’t give her a hangover like tequila usually does, but a better headspace than beer.
She hands over one of the drinks to the woman. Their hands slightly graze. “I’m Dylan.”
“Susan.”
The woman stands a few inches above most of the other women there, even Dylan, with blonde hair and blue eyes—the total opposite of Naomi. She’s thankful for that. Her one-piece romper dips low in the front, showcasing her ample cleavage and pale skin. If Dylan believed in rating people on a scale, this woman would at least be an eight. At least.
But Dylan just doesn’t feel a spark flowing between them. Maybe it’s because of Naomi; maybe it’s the stress of everything that occurred tonight. Maybe she’s just not drunk enough
yet. Spark or not, it would still feel great to get her mind off of everything. She decides not to walk away just yet.
Susan inches closer to Dylan’s side, sipping her drink. She smells like lavender. “What brings you here tonight, Dylan?”
“Just getting out for the night.” She gulps her drink. It’s good, better than she expected. It’ll be easy to knock back a few of these tonight. “You?”
“Drinks. Dancing.” Their eyes meet, dark and light. “Women.”
Is she hitting on me? Her heart skips a beat from anxiety more than anything. She forces it away, plastering on a friendly face. “Sure picked one hell of a straight bar to do that at.”
Susan laughs. It’s light and mellow, matching her body perfectly. “You’re funny.”
“I try.” She finally grins, and watches it reflect on Susan’s face. There’s nothing about her that’s inherently funny, but what else could she say to that?
A deep electric song comes on in the background. Several couples move to the dance floor. Despite being the middle of the week, the place looks surprisingly packed. Susan raises a mischievous brow. “Wanna dance?”
“Nah,” she refutes. “Not really my thing.”
“Understandable.” Susan easily washes down a third of her drink through the petite straw. “Are you staying for the burlesque show?”
“I didn’t even know there was one.”
“Every Thursday,” Susan responds. “I’ve only seen it once, but it was great.”
Dylan faux-checks her watch. “Well if it’s great...I guess I can’t refuse.”
“Perfect,” the woman demurely bites her bottom lip. She watches Dylan down the rest of her vodka. “How about another drink? My treat.”
Dylan watches as the bartender pours two more vodkas with lime wedges. The woman reaches for them, nearly losing her cleavage from her romper in the exchange. She hands Dylan the drink, complete with a wink.
This is going to be an interesting night.
Finding Home Page 7