Thirteen Hours

by Meghan O'Brien

  “I promise to be nice.” Laurel batted her eyelashes innocently.

  “I’m worried about your definition of nice.”

  Something about Dana’s shy anxiety made Laurel’s entire body tingle. She seemed so sweet, almost demure, but Laurel sensed the sexy, playful woman beneath the reserved exterior. Surrendering to a sense of mischief, Laurel murmured throatily, “I’ve never had anyone complain about my definition of ‘nice’ before.”

  Dana stared at her with a mixture of excitement and fear. “Okay, let’s play,” she croaked.

  ———

  Dana didn’t know how they’d reached this place. They were finally speaking to each other as though they had nothing to lose. She shook her head, torn between fierce excitement and utter fear.

  “How many men have you slept with?” she asked.

  She was instantly surprised by the proprietary feeling that flashed through her at the thought. She didn’t want to imagine Laurel with some man. It was bad enough to picture her dancing for them. She tried to imagine Laurel grinding against another woman the way she had when she was on Dana’s lap earlier. That idea offered no solace. Get a grip, she thought. Laurel was a beautiful young woman with perfect breasts and a brain to match, and she was a twenty-eight-year-old born-again virgin who could stand to lose fifteen pounds.

  Laurel was looking at her strangely and Dana realized her breathing was audible. She coughed with embarrassment. Laurel reached over and patted her on the back a few times. The shock of her gentle touch was enough to start Dana breathing again, albeit shakily.

  “Are you all right?” Laurel asked. “If you’re tired we could try to sleep.”

  Like she could sleep with the concept of playing truth or dare with this woman floating around in her mind. Dana felt like she was under the microscope. The sensation unnerved her. “I’m fine,” she lied.

  Laurel remained silent for a few moments, and then answered the question. “None, actually. How about you?”

  “One.” She could see Laurel doing the math in her head. Twentyeight years old. One man. Not very impressive for a heterosexual.

  Relieved not to be pressed for follow-up information, she deflected the question back onto Laurel. “So how many women have you slept with?”

  “Three,” Laurel answered without hesitation.

  Dana was surprised. She had expected the number to be higher.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Shocked?”

  “No,” Dana lied.

  Laurel snorted. “Truth or dare, Ms. Watts?”

  Dana tried to ignore the twinge in her clit at the way Laurel murmured “Ms. Watts.” It sounded like something that came from the very best of her executive assistant fantasies, in which she ravished a sexy subordinate on the large oak desk in her office.

  “Truth,” Dana rasped.

  “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  “Is this going to be all about sex?” Dana complained. Not that she didn’t expect it, but the whole ‘lie if it’s embarrassing’ plan seemed less and less feasible with those sweet blue eyes on her. “I told you I don’t really like talking about this stuff.”

  Laurel stroked her fingertip across one of Dana’s wrists, a fast, tender caress that came out of nowhere and ended after only a moment.

  She gave her an encouraging smile. “You never have to see me again after tonight. Why not give it a try? I promise to be nice.”

  Dana was frustrated by how hot her face became, and in an effort to overcome the burden of her own personality, she answered, “I was seventeen. He was my high school boyfriend. Jason.” She forced herself to stop talking when she realized that she had far exceeded the question asked. Jesus. Leave something for her to find out.

  “See? Nothing to be embarrassed about there.”

  Dana laughed. “You haven’t heard the story yet. Truth or dare?”

  “Oh, hell, truth again,” Laurel said. “Hit me.”

  “How old were you?” Dana asked. “When you lost your virginity?”

  “I was eighteen,” Laurel said. “It was a one-time thing with my partner on the debate team during undergrad. We shared a hotel room during the final tournament that year…and a double bed.”

  I need to ask her to tell me that story for her next truth, Dana mused. “Ask me another question.”

  “Was it good?” Laurel asked. “With Jason?”

  Dana wrinkled her nose. “We only did it twice.”

  “Not good enough to do it a third time?”

  “Not really,” Dana admitted.

  Laurel looked as if she wanted to ask another question but nodded instead. “Why don’t you give me a dare this time?”

  Dana’s heart stopped beating for half a second. Now was not a good time to remember that she didn’t know how to play this game.

  Asking questions was easy; trying to come up with a dare that wouldn’t be totally awkward for one or both of them was another story.

  “Start with something easy,” Laurel suggested. “Something silly.”

  Dana flashed on one of the only games of truth or dare she had ever played as a teenager, during Krista Donnelly’s sixteenth birthday party. “I dare you to play the rest of the game braless.”

  Laurel beamed, pulling her arms into her shirt and starting the intricate process of unhooking her bra beneath her clothing. “I thought you felt like you were being stared at when I wasn’t wearing it.”

  “Are you refusing to perform the dare?” Dana asked. “I’m pretty sure there are consequences for that kind of thing.”

  “I’m obviously not refusing, am I?” Laurel slid the lacy black bra from beneath the hem of her T-shirt and handed it to Dana draped across both hands. “I believe the rules state that you are now the proud owner of this for the duration of the game.”

  Dana checked out Laurel’s unrestrained breasts. Her T-shirt hugged them in the most delicious way, and between that and the subtle scent of perfume from the bra in her hand, Dana felt absolutely giddy.

  “So how about you?” Laurel asked. Her nipples grew hard beneath Dana’s surreptitious gaze, but if she was aware of it, she didn’t let on.

  Her pale yellow T-shirt left little to the imagination.

  “Dare.” Dana gave in to a rush of true courage.

  “I dare you to give me a hug,” Laurel said. “Both arms, at least thirty seconds long.”

  The dare knocked the wind out of Dana. A hug? She felt an embarrassing wetness between her legs. “A hug?”

  Laurel nodded, getting up onto her knees. “I’ve been wanting to give you a hug. Now’s my chance and I’m taking it.”

  “Playing dirty, huh?” Numb, Dana rose.

  “Oh, you don’t even know how dirty I can play.” Laurel spread her arms in invitation. The motion caused her breasts to jut out against her T-shirt, throwing her erect nipples into stark relief beneath the thin cotton. “Come on.”

  It had been six months since Dana had hugged anyone, and then it had been her father. She was full of stiff uncertainty as she wrapped her arms around Laurel, holding her as if she were made of fine china. She felt clumsy, oafish, and self-conscious about the relative softness of her body pressed against the firm leanness of Laurel’s.

  “Relax,” Laurel murmured into her ear. She brought a hand down to press against the small of Dana’s back, holding her close, and moved the other up to cradle her neck and stroke her thumb over the nape.

  “This is nice, right?”

  Dana shifted slightly, afraid of the way her heart was thundering against Laurel’s chest. She tried to remember the count. Thirty seconds was taking a long time.

  “Stop wishing it over,” Laurel chided. She drew back, but kept her arms around Dana in a loose circle. “I hope it was okay. You just… looked like you needed a hug.”

  Pulling back with a nod, Dana wished she could have just stopped thinking and enjoyed it. Emotions close to the surface, she chose to plunge straight back into their game.
Truth this time, she took the opportunity to hear about Laurel’s first time with her debate partner. In return, she told Laurel about Jason. For the first time, she admitted how awful it was, and awkward.

  Now Laurel truly knew more about her than anyone else.

  Dana wanted to keep this going. “How many serious relationships have you had?”

  “Only one,” Laurel said. “Ash. I met her in school and we were together for about two and a half years. She just wasn’t ready to commit, and it got to be too much for her to deal with. I was spending a lot of time taking care of Mom, driving her back and forth to the hospital for chemo…” She shrugged. “I wasn’t ready to focus on a relationship, either. But I loved Ash, a lot. I was pretty devastated when it ended.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dana said. Though she’d be lying if she pretended to regret that Laurel was single now. Giving herself a mental slap, Dana invited another truth.

  Laurel’s mouth took on an affectionate smile. “If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?”

  Dana barely had to think before answering. “To be less afraid.”

  She looked down after she said the words, aware of how she sounded.

  “Afraid of what?” Laurel kept her hands folded in her lap, but the compassion in her eyes reached out and wrapped Dana in a feeling of calm safety.

  Dana shrugged, though she already knew the answer. “Being myself, I guess.”

  Laurel contended with that for a moment. Dana could see her mind working as they stared at one another. Neither said anything for a beat.

  “Are you being yourself right now?” Laurel finally murmured.

  “Right this second?” Dana hadn’t felt normal since they’d gotten trapped in the elevator. I might just tell you anything you ask right now.

  “I guess so.”

  “Earlier?” Laurel asked.

  Dana shook her head. “Not entirely.”

  Laurel reached out to rest her fingertips on Dana’s knee. “Why do I get the feeling that those parts of you that I really like are the ones I’ve seen when you’re being yourself?”

  Heat flooded Dana’s face. I must look like the most awkward, blushing, inarticulate idiot in the world right now.

  “Will you do me a favor?” Laurel lifted her hand from Dana’s knee. “Be yourself. That’s who I want to be trapped in an elevator with tonight. The real Dana Watts, not just the woman you want me to think she is.” At Dana’s nervous nod, she asked, “Are you afraid?”

  Of course, Dana raged inside. Her “for other people” voice, when it emerged, was a lot more subdued than her inner voice. “A little.”

  Laurel held her gaze. “Don’t be afraid, okay? I really do like you. I’m having a good time tonight…strangely.”

  “So am I.” There was no going back now. Dana knew Laurel didn’t absolutely hate being stuck in here with her. Admitting the truth felt a lot like surrendering. “I have another question,” she said.

  “Ask anything you want.”

  Dana spoke from her heart. “What do you look for in a woman? I mean, what do you find attractive in a potential date?”

  “What do I notice first?” Laurel was still staring at Dana’s face.

  “Eyes,” she said. “Freckles…are a plus. Lips. I like redheads…and brunettes.”

  Freckles are a plus? Dana thought, feeling every one of the brownish marks sprinkled across her burning cheeks. Redheads?

  “I like smart women,” Laurel continued. “Motivated women. A good sense of humor. Considerate. Sweet, at least with me. I really love a woman who loves sex. Both as something intimate to share, and also fun to do.”

  Dana listened with rapt attention. Smart: check. Motivated: check.

  That other stuff: not so sure.

  “I’m looking for a woman who’s interested in me. Just me. I want to find someone I can spend a lazy Sunday with at home, or sit down and have dinner after work, and talk about our day. Someone who makes going to the grocery store fun, just because I’m with her.” Laurel stopped talking and raised a dark eyebrow at Dana. “Do you think I’m looking for too much?”

  Dana shook her head. “You deserve to find what you want, and I think she’s out there.” In fact, I’m so jealous of her that I’d wring the skinny bitch’s neck in a heartbeat.

  Laurel’s gaze seemed inwardly focused, and an odd uncertainty passed across her face. Hesitantly, she said, “Dana, I’m really sorry about what I said earlier. About getting laid, and how long it might have been. I was just pissed off at you. It was a stupid thing to say.” She paused, her blue eyes troubled. “Has it really been eleven years since you were…with someone?”

  “Yes.” It was an embarrassing admission, one she’d never made to anyone out loud.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Dana said, and the truth was that in a way, she didn’t. She assumed that no one would be interested. And given that her only experience had been an unsatisfying one, why put herself out there? Why open her heart for rejection?

  After these last few hours with Laurel, that seemed a weak rationale for having shut herself off from the pleasure of connecting with another human being. She wanted to kick herself for wasting so much time being afraid. When had she last felt as happy as she did right now? To hell with it. Starting right now, she was determined to let go and enjoy this.

  “I think it’s high time we injected a little levity into this game,” Laurel said. “Give me a dare.”

  Levity, right. Dana considered that for a moment, then broke into an evil grin. “Okay, then. I dare you to show me, over your clothes, how you masturbate.” Her stomach turned over in pleasurable anticipation at the thought. “And…fake an orgasm at the end.”

  Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see how it is. Getting down and dirty, are we? I’ll remember that when it’s my turn to dole out the dares.”

  Dana felt strangely excited by the promise. Sick to her stomach, but excited. “Less complaining, more complying.”

  Laurel unzipped her backpack, smiling as she withdrew her blanket in a bag. “Oh, a woman who knows how to give orders,” she purred with a suggestive wink. “Yet another quality I look for.”

  Dana grinned like a fool. A blushing, sweating, so-wet-it-wasscary fool. “You need the blanket for this?”

  “Well, I’ve got to lie down. And if I’m going to lie down in here, I’m using the blanket.”

  Dana licked her lips. “Gotcha.”

  Laurel spread the blanket out across most of the elevator car, leaving Dana sitting on one exposed strip of carpet.

  Laurel crawled across the blanket on her hands and knees, smoothing each corner. Then she stretched out onto her back with feline grace.

  Dana had a perfect view of the lean perfection of Laurel’s form.

  How a woman who looked like that could ever give her the time of day, she would never know.

  With a shy giggle, Laurel spread her legs, planting one foot on the blanket and tipping her upraised knee to the side. “Well, I usually lie like this. And mostly, I use my hands. Sometimes if I’m really horny, I’ll maybe use a…dildo, too.”

  Dana schooled her breathing, desperate not to pass out and miss what Laurel would do next.

  Laurel started to giggle again, making her words harder to understand. “God, this is weird. You’d better hope I don’t dare you to do something like this. I feel really… I don’t know. You’d think I’d be used to performing for an audience by now, right?”

  “This is more personal,” Dana acknowledged. “Do you want to stop?” Inside, she chanted, Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.

  Laurel shook her head. “I don’t want it said that I’m the sort of woman who refuses a dare.” She moved a hand down to rest on the crotch of her blue jeans. “I, uh. I like to use two fingers and, um…just rub my clit like this.”

  Amazed, Dana watched as Laurel began simulating the stroking of a lazy circle directly over the seam of her jeans. Unbelievable. She was ac
tually pretending to masturbate. It took everything Dana had not to rub her hands together with glee.

  “And I also like…” Rather than finish her sentence, Laurel let her free hand rest on her left breast. With Dana watching in fascination, she lifted her hand inches into the air, and then reached down to grasp her erect nipple between her fingertips.

  This touch wasn’t simulated, and it wrenched a groan from both women.

  “Yeah,” Dana croaked. “I get it.” She shifted, more aware than ever of her own wetness. “So, uh, the orgasm.”

  “Ah, yes. The orgasm.” Laurel continued to circle her fingers in the air over the seam of her jeans. Releasing her nipple, she laid her palm flat over the erect nub, cupping her breast through her T-shirt. She began to thrust her hips upward in sensual rhythm, as if meeting the stroking of her busy hand. She started a low moaning that sent shivers through Dana’s body.

  Mouth hanging open, Dana watched as Laurel put on the sexiest, most intense show she had ever seen. This, she managed to think, eyes glued to Laurel’s flushed face and full, parted lips, is worth the price of admission.

  “Oh, God, Dana,” Laurel gasped, thrusting her hips again, this time actually causing her fingers to make contact with the seam of her jeans. She moaned, a genuine noise of surprised pleasure, and turned her head toward Dana. “I’m going to come, Dana. I’m going to make myself come.”

  How Dana wished that were true.

  Laurel’s hips and hand were in constant motion, and she kept her eyes locked on Dana’s face as she played out her most private routine.

  Her moaning was loud and throaty, making Dana wonder if Laurel’s lovers had realized how lucky they were to cause a sound like that.

  Back arched, her hand pressed hard between her legs, Laurel cried out in ecstatic, simulated release. Her words were nonsensical, broken by gasps and whimpers, and they trailed off as she relaxed her body and came back to rest on the blanket. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, as though she were really struggling to recover from a shattering orgasm.

  Exhaling, she turned her head and grinned at Dana. “How was that?”

  “Thorough.” Dana managed a nervous cough. “Good.”