As she sank into her seat, she stared at Whitney. A similar fire had to be burning in her own eyes. Her desire was mounting, and it was so powerful that it surprised her. She couldn’t recall the last time she had felt like this, if she ever had.
Being with Truman all those years ago had always felt obligatory. Now she wanted Whitney, and not because anyone told her she was supposed to. This wasn’t because of society or because anyone expected it of her. She simply wanted this. It was an animalistic desire that came from the deepest part of her core.
As she sucked in hot breaths, she became aware that she was supposed to say something. She looked at Whitney, memorizing every detail of her beautiful face. She couldn’t find words. No one had ever turned her on like that before. She wanted to know everything about her, even the stuff that clearly hurt. She wanted to know her mind, body, and soul.
Yolanda reached across the table again, acting on some impulse too strong for her to deny. The light in Whitney’s eyes said she knew this wasn’t about the plates, and indeed, Yolanda didn’t reach for one. She went straight for Whitney’s hand and stayed there, letting her hand sit motionless on top of it.
Energy blazed between Yolanda’s palm and the back of Whitney’s hand. Her skin was soft to the touch. Yolanda let her fingers twitch, running her fingertips over the tiny hairs just above her knuckles.
She was staring at Whitney’s hand, she realized. She lifted her eyes slowly, timidly, to meet Whitney’s. Whitney stared at her with her mouth slightly open as if she was unsure of what was happening. Yolanda felt a sudden, insane urge to laugh. She had no idea what was happening either. She simply knew she was doing what every fiber of her being was telling her to do.
“Yolanda…” Whitney whispered.
The single word brought Yolanda out of her spell. Somewhere in the part of her mind that wasn’t completely hazy, Yolanda knew she was sending the worst mixed signals in the history of humanity. She had told Whitney over and over that she wasn’t into women. She had snapped at her more than once for believing otherwise. Yolanda realized that if she wanted anything to happen, she was going to have to make the first move. But her body trembled, and she could do no more.
They sat like that for a long moment, Yolanda’s hand on Whitney’s. Her fingers trembled… or were those Whitney’s fingers? Their eyes bored into each other’s, both equally fearful and hesitant. Yolanda nearly let out a whimper as Whitney drew her hand away. But she watched, speechless, as Whitney took a few steps around the table. Whitney sank slowly into the chair beside her and put her hand over Yolanda’s, which was still lying there dumbly.
As Yolanda sat in stunned silence, Whitney leaned in. Yolanda was frozen, unable to move a fraction of an inch. She wanted to lean in and press her lips to Whitney’s, but something left her unable to move. The refrain she had said so many times came back to her mind, taunting her. She was straight. She couldn’t want Whitney if she was straight.
Whitney leaned in closer, staring her in the eye. She was only inches away, and Yolanda stared into those blue eyes. She was close enough that Yolanda could feel her breath hot on her lips. She could remember exactly what those lips felt like. She had replayed that moment so many times over the past day.
Yolanda blinked at Whitney. She wished she could do something, but she was completely unable to process what was happening. She wasn’t going to be able to do anything—and from the look on Whitney’s face, it was soon going to be too late.
Whitney pulled back, her expression turning to hurt. She shook her head slightly as she sat back in her seat. She pulled the chair several inches away, her heat gone from Yolanda’s body. Yolanda’s body tingled, as if trying to make her reach out and touch Whitney again.
There was a strange sensation in her groin. She was aroused, but not in the normal way. Her clit ached to be touched, pulsing with tangible energy. She had never felt quite like this. No one had ever done this to her.
“I’m so sorry,” Whitney said, starting to stand up.
Yolanda stood up along with her. “I… I… I thought we weren’t going to apologize anymore.”
The expression on Whitney’s face was pure confusion. As Whitney turned her head to her, Yolanda wondered what she was doing. Those words had come out of her mouth on their own accord. It wasn’t possible that she wanted to kiss Whitney again. That wasn’t who she was. But with Whitney so close to her, she couldn’t deny what she was craving.
“What are you saying?” Whitney asked, staring at her with unguarded hope in her eyes.
“I wish I knew,” Yolanda murmured.
She took a tiny step forward, her hand numbly going out and pushing the chair aside. She was so close to Whitney now, close enough to reach out and touch her. She couldn’t do that, though. Even as Whitney reached out and her fingers stroked Yolanda’s arm, Yolanda knew she couldn’t stroke her back. She was straight, for heaven’s sake! What was she doing?
But it felt so good, far too good as Whitney teased her fingers along Yolanda’s bicep. She shuddered, perversely thrilled at the wrongness of this encounter. She wanted more. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so aroused, if she ever had been. So what if it was a woman that was arousing her? Her body wanted what it wanted.
“What is this?” she managed to gasp. “What have you done to me?”
Whitney shook her head, looking up at her with a strange mix of sympathy and desire. “I haven’t done anything. I just want you.”
Yolanda trembled, still unable to let go of her preconceptions. “You’re a girl,” she insisted. “This can’t be happening.”
“So you do feel this connection between us,” Whitney whispered.
Whitney looked at her as if asking—no, begging—for permission. Yolanda stared back, unable to give it to her. But as Whitney stepped forward, closing the distance between them, Yolanda closed her eyes and surrendered. Whatever happened would happen. She could do no more to resist this. This felt far too good, and she was only so strong.
Something brushed across her lips, and she trembled in near-ecstasy. A hand settled lightly on her arm, and she opened her eyes to see Whitney stroking her lip with the tip of one finger. She gasped out as Whitney ran her finger up and down, the touch so feathery it was barely noticeable. Yolanda would never have believed that something so subtle could turn her on so much.
“I felt it ever since you asked me to dance. But I’m not like that. Not like you. I’m… I have…”
“Just let me kiss you,” Whitney said, running her fingers over Yolanda’s lips to shush her. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
Yolanda quivered under her touch. How badly she wanted that! She would never have believed it, and yet here it was happening.
“Yes,” she whispered, against all her previous inclinations and her better judgment. “Please, Whitney, kiss me.”
Whitney let out a breath, the air already heating Yolanda’s lips before she closed her mouth down on her. Yolanda closed her eyes, her knees suddenly weak. She heard the sound of a soft moan. The vibration of her vocal cords was all that let her know that it came from herself. She shook where she stood, her arms reaching out to catch Whitney. Whitney stood there, an inch shorter but so much more solid. Stronger. She held Yolanda up as Yolanda fell into the kiss.
The incident in the car was no anomaly. This kiss was just as good—no, better. It felt like Yolanda’s entire world was being torn apart. She would never have thought she could be attracted to another woman, but as they slowly pulled apart and went immediately back in for a second kiss, Yolanda had to admit that was the case. Their lips joined a second time and they stood there, breathing together for what felt like an eternity.
Yolanda never wanted to let go of Whitney’s slim shoulders. She only reluctantly allowed Whitney to pull back, their lips still touching. Whitney went in for a third kiss, tilting her head somewhat to change the angle. Yolanda pressed her lips against Whitney’s harder, her need growing with every passing second.
They exchanged kiss after kiss, actually making out as they stood there in Whitney’s kitchen. Another minute passed, or maybe an hour. Yolanda put her hand on the table to keep herself standing. With her whole sense of being getting torn apart, she felt like she would topple over at any moment.
The kiss had Yolanda so aroused that she found herself pulling Whitney against her, grinding against her thigh. Yolanda could hardly believe how turned on she was. And it was a mystery how feeling Whitney’s slim waist and full breasts got her even more excited. She had never known that arousal like this existed.
As she thrust mindlessly against Whitney’s thigh, Whitney pulled her head slightly back. Yolanda’s eyes fluttered open to find Whitney staring into them. She gulped, still not grasping what they were doing. She knew this was what her body wanted, but her mind had a ways to go to catch up.
“I don’t want to be forward,” Whitney said, her voice thick and heavy.
A lump formed in Yolanda’s throat. They were already making out. This was more than Yolanda had done with any other person, male or female, in years. Did Whitney really want more?
Instead of replying, she simply nodded, encouraging Whitney to go on.
“I’m pretty sure that you’re… that you want…” Whitney trailed off. What she was talking about was completely obvious. “I was wondering if you might want some help.”
“I…”
Yolanda struggled for words. She wanted “help” more than she had wanted perhaps anything else in her life. But it would be impossible for her to offer the same to Whitney. She was nowhere near that point, if indeed she was going to get there. She was straight—at least that was what she had told herself for the last twenty-six years.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” Yolanda said, tripping over her words. “As long as you don’t mind that I may not be able to do anything to you.”
Whitney shook her head. “That’s perfect. I don’t want you to.”
Yolanda glanced at Whitney again. Her pupils were blown out, her cheeks pink with arousal. How could Whitney say that she didn’t want anything? But Yolanda wasn’t about to protest at the moment. She allowed Whitney to settle her on top of the table.
As soon as she was seated, Whitney’s fingers were on her zipper. Yolanda shifted, part of her wondering what she was doing. The other part was too eager to stop and think about it. She wanted this desperately.
As Whitney worked her out of her pants, Yolanda gasped out loud. Whitney’s fingers made contact with damp fabric, and Yolanda fell back on her hands. Even through her underwear, Whitney’s fingers felt incredible. Shivers went through Yolanda, starting in her groin and radiating through her body. She felt all the heat from earlier, but now it was focused on her most sensitive area.
She opened her eyes and closed them, wanting to soak in the sight of Whitney’s beautiful face but also wanting to block it out. She couldn’t handle the fact that a girl was touching her like this, turning her on like this. As much as her body wanted it, her mind wasn’t there yet.
Whitney took hold of Yolanda’s hem and pulled her panties down to her ankles, and the inhale she took when she saw Yolanda’s sex was audible. Yolanda could see how much she was turning Whitney on, and that only got her more aroused.
She gasped again as Whitney’s fingers made contact. Whitney collected wetness and spread it upward, lubricating her clit. Yolanda fell back on the table, the dirty dishes rattling around her. Her body jerked under Whitney’s expert ministrations.
“How is that?” Whitney’s soft voice asked, breaking through her consciousness.
“Fuck… I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Yolanda breathed, her hips jerking on the table. “Just keep going. Don’t ever stop.”
Whitney’s fingers circled Yolanda’s clit, sending more sparks flying through her body. “I’m not going to stop.”
Yolanda moaned, the sound of her voice shaking the table beneath her. She had no idea why she was doing this, how she could be enjoying it, but there was no way that she would stop. She felt like something was finally falling into place, something that had never been there before. Her entire body was on fire, and this simple act was shaking her entire being to the foundation.
She could hardly breathe as Whitney continued to finger her, her hand moving in that deliciously evil rhythm. Her torso twisted, her hips jerking up and down. Her head thrashed back and forth, and her hands gripped the edge of the table. Whitney was doing insane things to her, and she hoped it would never end.
Fingers lashed Yolanda’s clit again, making her aware that it was swollen and hard. “You’re close,” Whitney said.
Yolanda couldn’t speak. Her eyes squeezed shut while her hips thrust up and down, rubbing her clit against Whitney’s hand. She was in ecstasy, acting on pure instinct. She didn’t know what was happening when a sudden warmth came down on her.
She looked down and saw Whitney’s head between her thighs. She thrust against Whitney’s tongue as she exploded, waves of pleasure going through her for what felt like hours on end.
When it was over, she lay breathless on the table, aftershocks going through her every few seconds. She had no idea what had just happened, only that she’d just experienced the greatest climax of her life.
“Are you okay?” Whitney asked, standing beside her and lacing her fingers through hers.
“Incredible,” Yolanda breathed. Realizing Whitney was probably more turned on than ever, she felt guilty. “I’m sorry I can’t do that for you. I wish I could return the favor. I’m not quite ready yet.”
“That’s fine,” Whitney said. “Like I told you, I didn’t want that.”
Of all the things that had happened in the past couple of hours, that shouldn’t have been the one that stuck with Yolanda.
But as she sat slowly up, putting a hand on her head when she started to feel dizzy, she had to wonder.
Why not?
Eighteen
As the night went by, Whitney looked over at the DJ booth a little too often. She couldn’t believe that what had happened earlier was real. She had never suspected that after all Yolanda’s protests, the woman would actually be attracted to her. Touching her and tasting her had been better than she could have imagined.
Yolanda had been so enthusiastic once she had finally let go of her inhibitions. Whitney loved to think about what she would be like as they continued to explore each other. Or rather, as Whitney continued to explore her.
That was the thing, she thought as she spun a wine bottle into the air and caught it. She couldn’t let Yolanda touch her. Couldn’t reveal what was underneath her clothes. She’d be happy to do whatever Yolanda allowed her to do to her, but she herself couldn’t even take off her left sock.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the “other,” wishing things were different. As she looked over at Yolanda, she wondered what exactly she could hope for from this relationship. She was getting ahead of herself, anyway. Yolanda had a lot of things to figure out, and exploring Whitney’s body was probably not on her mind. Yolanda was just starting to get comfortable with even kissing another woman. There was no way she’d try to take Whitney’s pants off anytime soon.
Briefly, Whitney wondered if she might be able to let Yolanda please her without taking her pants fully off once Yolanda was ready. She doubted it would work. Any woman would find that bizarre, and she would have to give Yolanda some reason that her pants couldn’t come all the way off. For simplicity’s sake, it was best to keep to pleasing Yolanda.
She poured a few more drinks. After last call, she started closing the bar. It took a while just to settle the cash register, and there was plenty left to do after that. She was still working when the club closed at three-thirty.
As soon as the clubgoers began to straggle out, Yolanda arrived beside the bar. Whitney tried not to look at her too eagerly, even if her whole body lit up at their proximity. She wanted to drag Yolanda over the bar and make out with her right then and t
here.
“Have a good night?” Yolanda asked, giving her a shy smile.
“Great,” Whitney said. “Nothing too crazy, but I got lots of tips.”
“Good,” Yolanda said, still looking strangely nervous. “I just came to say hi.”
Clearly she was feeling the same awkwardness that Whitney did. Their relationship had changed dramatically over at Whitney’s place, and Whitney wasn’t quite sure how to react. She knew that Yolanda was everything that she wanted, but what was Yolanda feeling? She was the “straight” one, the one who had issues to work through.
They had ridden over here in Whitney’s car, and they had talked in a friendly way. It hadn’t been too awkward then. But Yolanda hadn’t helped Whitney set up the bar, instead taking off as if she wanted to get some distance from Whitney.
The lights were on now, which took away the seductive atmosphere. That didn’t minimize the way Whitney was pulled toward Yolanda.
“Do you need help closing the bar?” Yolanda asked.
“Not really, but you’re welcome to hang out if you want.”
“Sure.”
Yolanda came behind the bar, looking around as if seeing it for the first time. Or maybe she was just avoiding Whitney’s eyes. “You really do have a ton of alcohol back here,” she commented. “I’ve never heard of half this stuff before.”
“Oh yeah, we have everything,” Whitney said. “Ron always insisted that this place be fully stocked.”
One waitress after another waved as they headed out the front doors. Whitney waved back at them, wondering what they thought of the woman keeping her company.
Meanwhile, Yolanda stared at the shelves of bottles. “This one is fancy,” she said, pointing to a bottle of top-shelf whiskey.
“You want to try some?”
“No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to steal from the club.”
“I can give away a little bit for a sample, if I want. Just don’t go chugging the whole thing. That’s a two-hundred-dollar bottle.”
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