Coming Together: At Last, Volume Two

by Alessia Brio, L. A. Banks, Bridget Midway

  This was mostly true. The times Germane had been with man, it was for this very reason. To feel a warm, a live penis enter her, spread, and fill her. The dildo Lila used certainly filled her, but never in her vagina and only during the harsh admonishments of her sadistic games.

  "Makes sense,” A.J. nodded.

  "But I prefer the feeling of a woman beside me,” Germane said and reached out her index finger to stroke A.J.'s freckled hand.

  "That's the part I guess I'm a little nervous about,” A.J. said softly, staring down at the older woman's black finger tickling the back of her hand.

  "That's normal,” Germane said and traced a tight line up A.J.'s pale hand. The younger girl attempted to lift her milkshake again, but stopped as Germane traced her finger down A.J.'s skin and settled it on the back of her hand.

  "Like I told you last week, I'm not interested in pushing anything,” Germane added, as both women stared down at the their touching. “We go slow, okay?"

  "Yeah, thanks,” A.J. said looking up then, smiling at Germane.

  The women broke contact and Germane scooped another dollop of yogurt into her mouth as A.J. finally sipped.

  If this girl only knew how perfect this scene is, Germane thought, not even attempting to hide her staring now.

  The stuffy hot afternoon, the loose crowd of shoppers, the spittle of ejaculate milkshake coming from A.J.'s straw, the melting yogurt in Germane's deep cup; all of it perfect against Germane's light touch and A.J.'s naive cool. To have taken A.J. right there and then, on that blood-red bench, would have been the end for Germane; her life could have easily ended that afternoon with the young girl's firm breasts in her hand, A.J.'s cute bottom stuck against the hard wooden bench slats, her thin pale lips pressed to Germane's...

  Germane realized right then that she was most strikingly in love with A.J. Janson and was falling deeper every second. At her age, love hardly came at first sight, and Germane's emotions had waited four meetings and a considerable amount of fantasy time to bring her to this conclusion, but it was no less powerful. Germane was entranced by A.J., and she wanted her more then any other woman she had yet encountered.

  "What time do you have to get back?” the younger girl asked, finishing the milkshake with a quick slurp.

  "Anytime, really,” Germane answered. “Extended coffee break."

  "Wanna walk me to my car?"

  * * * *

  This time the kiss was long and precise. No initiating hesitation. No retreating guilt. And best of all, no confusing intent. A.J. simply turned around after opening her car door, smiled at Germane, and then the two women met. A.J.'s body folded between her Datsun's bright blue side as Germane's strong hands gripped her shoulders. Germane hid her nervousness by pursuing A.J. until she could feel the younger girl's soft mouth part and her tongue cautiously invite touch.

  "Wow,” A.J. said when they broke from one another a minute later.

  The young girl kept her eyes on Germane's, no quickly stolen glance or retreat; a black woman and a younger white girl had just lip-locked in the center of a busy outdoor shopping mall!

  Amazing, Germane thought, smiling wide and long at A.J.'s ever-cool reactions. “Wow is right."

  "You kiss really good."

  "You sound surprised,” Germane lightly teased.

  "Yeah. I mean no. No,” the younger woman tried. “I just never kissed a woman like that before."

  "Didn't seem like it was a problem,” Germane said and once again walked into A.J.

  "Wow,” A.J. said, bowing her head slightly. “Wow."

  "Call me tonight if you can,” Germane said, squeezed A.J.'s arm. “I think we could both use a couple hours to think about all this."

  "Yeah, I...” A.J. started, then turned to her car, turned back around, smiled at Germane, turned back to her car yet again, opened the driver side door, sat down in the car, closed the door, smiled at Germane one last time and drove off.

  [Eight]

  "I really don't know what else to say,” Germane tried as the smaller woman turned from the metal barbecue and walked back to the chair Germane was sitting in.

  "If it's over, it's over,” Lila said, forcing a tight smile.

  "I just don't want to hur..."

  "Too late,” Lila interrupted Germane. “Too fucking late for that, girl."

  Lila turned to Germane.

  "Who is she?” Lila asked.

  "You don't know her,” Germane answered.

  "If she is a gay woman in this town, I know her."

  "You don't know her,” Germane repeated, then stood and walked over to the smaller woman.

  "It just happened, Lila,” Germane added.

  "Yeah, it just happened,” Lila repeated.

  "We had a good run of it,” Germane started. “I have great memories. And I want us to stay friends."

  "Yeah,” Lila said and raised her head to Germane. A thin tear lightly stained her chubby cheek.

  Germane stared at her ex-lover and tried not to falter. This would be the time when she'd break, if at all. Lila at her most vulnerable. Lila the wounded. Lila the short, muscular, little package of need. It was at times like this that Germane remembered what it was she had found so attractive in this woman in the first place: the quiet, latent hurt underneath the strong frame and staid brown eyes.

  "I really do mean it, Lila.” Germane kissed her ex-lover on the cheek. “Your friendship means a lot to me."

  "I think you better go,” Lila said, a second tear running down her other pale cheek.

  "Okay.” Germane turned from Lila, walked across the patio, and out of Lila's backyard—and life—forever.

  * * * *

  Germane had decided that no matter how hard the break-up was going to be for Lila, it was best that she not tell her the whole truth; use the very real feelings she had for A.J. as the one and only excuse. It was damn hard for someone to learn they were being cast aside for another, but Germane knew it would be harder still on Lila if she had told her ex-lover the whole story: how she just wasn't turned on by Lila anymore.

  Lila wasn't the kind of person who'd take well to the idea of an attraction just fizzling, especially when she was the person the fizzle was dying over. Lila would never accept the fact that Germane didn't want her anymore. Her ego simply could never accept the truth in those terms. The smaller woman's ordered, neat life could never allow so shocking a revelation without dire consequences. Her perception of the world around her included the very cemented view that she was simply too special. It was a view borne out of insecurity as had been Lila's need to always play dominant in their affair.

  Germane knew all of this, of course. Let Lila think Germane crazy for choosing another lover over her. Lila didn't need to know the whole truth if that whole truth would only hurt her more, the slice of information would snap the very core of the tenuous hold on the life she had built around herself. At the very least, Germane owed Lila the delusion of her frail ego. And in the long run, the result was the same. Germane and Lila were no more.

  * * * *

  "Over!” Germane spat, as she walked across the street to her house. “Finally,” she sighed to her two porch steps and blood red screens.

  Standing on her quiet porch, Germane looked across the tree-lined street at Lila's house. She couldn't possibly detect the spark in her now that could ever cause her to miss Lila's aggressive attentions. However, she knew she would eventually think back on the more steamy episodes of their relationship, and a part of her would yearn for those nights when she was treated like a dog, subjugated, fearful ... and ever so turned on by the promise of Lila's giving pain and humiliation. There would be times she would think of those nights and the wetness between her legs would thicken until she'd have to masturbate to a vivid Lila-memory. Germane's libido was simply too strong to allow her a clean break, even though she was in love with A.J. and could now think of nothing else except laying next to the flaxen-haired tomboy and holding her naked, sinewy body.

  Germane
wondered if there would come as time when she would wish A.J. to growl orders at her. If one day she'd secretly want that bright, open face to bark commands, those soft long-fingered hands to brandish a riding crop, that tight little lap to support her for a spanking. Could Germane's needs simply disappear and be replaced by a normal—whatever the fuck that means, Germane laughed to herself—sexual relationship? She'd had them before, but since Lila, there had been so very few encounters that she really wondered if her sex-life could exist without the master/slave dynamic.

  "The thrill is in the finding out.” Germane opened her front door, walked across her peach and tan living room and up the short flight of stairs to her bathroom and her usual pre-slumber ritual.

  [Nine]

  Slowly, Germane had demanded of A.J.'s striptease. There was no pose the young girl could offer, no coy embarrassed stance, no hesitant pucker of hips. Germane simply sat in her kitchen chair and watched A.J. watch her, as the young girl crisscrossed her long arms and lifted off her shirt.

  The call had come seconds after Germane brushed her teeth. She couldn't think of a better nightcap to the new life she felt would be unfolding from tomorrow morning onward. A.J. had simply called, asked if she could visit, and a half hour later she was standing in Germane's bright kitchen undressing.

  A.J. smiled as her bright face disappeared under her lifted sweatshirt and soon emerged—still smiling—in a soft, pink bra. Since Germane had never seen the girl in anything other than loose button-down shirts or sweatshirts, she never really saw A.J.'s real form. She knew A.J. was more on the slight side than heavy, and Germane was quite pleased with the body now facing her.

  She had a firm belly, not hardened to cut, squared proportions, but indented and soft. Her breasts lay with a slight swell at the uppermost part of the bra, which was lace, and fit her size and frame, making the young girl not busty by any means, but ample and firm; a perfect fit for Germane's mouth.

  "Pants,” Germane whispered, and A.J. remained smiling, reached her long fingers to her faded jeans and unsnapped the copper button with one quick twist. The young girl wiggled out of her pants, coaxing a cascade of denim by pulling the shorts all the way down her long legs and finally off her ankles.

  "Come ‘ere,” Germane said, and A.J. walked the four steps from the end of the kitchen table to the refrigerator where Germane had pulled the wicker-backed kitchen chair.

  The black woman opened her legs, and A.J. walked into her sweat-pants crotch. Germane leaned forward and kissed A.J.'s tight, powdery belly as the young girl pressed just a bit forward into the kiss. The older woman put her hands around A.J. and softly grabbed the silk of her pink panty bottom then sat back and brought her hands to the girl's hips.

  "How we doin'?” Germane asked, looking up. A.J. had her eyes closed and her tight mouth open in an expression of muted need.

  "We are doin’ fine,” A.J. managed, quickly exhaling.

  "Stop me when you want,” Germane said and once again leaned into kiss the young girl's belly. “I don't want to do anything you don't want."

  Sitting back, Germane traced her hands up the young girl's sides and to her puckered breasts. A.J. gulped deeply at the touch, her hands to her sides. She managed to pucker her sweet lips as the black woman below her cupped one of her breasts in each of her hands, slowly kneading the silk covering them.

  "You are making me very crazy!"

  "I'm making you crazy?” A.J. giggled, opened her eyes, and looked down. “Wow!"

  "Wow is right,” Germane said, releasing her hands.

  A.J. took a step back as the taller, black woman stood. The women locked smiles, and then A.J. stepped forward and kissed Germane hard on the mouth. Her tongue darted into Germane's open lips as the older woman embraced her.

  "I want you to do everything to me,” A.J. said after their lips parted. “I want to feel everything."

  "I'll see what I can do,” she said, smiling.

  Germane took A.J.'s hand, kissed her on the cheek and led her from the kitchen, through the living room, up the short flight of stairs, down the hallway, and to her bedroom.

  * * * *

  Sometimes, it is hard to tell where fantasy ends and reality begins. The meeting of an ideal, the fulfillment of a dream, the actual realization of hope, is not often a possibility one is ready for.

  Germane wasn't ready for it.

  She stood at her bedroom window, overlooking her quiet backyard, the satiated young girl asleep in her bed. Strawberry blonde hair splayed over her pillow, the pug nose and tight lips quiet in the moonlight. Germane knew this was the moment where fantasy met her reality. She and A.J. had made love like only two women can ever make love, all the best softness and the deepest hunger, wrapped up in long-legged intertwining and deep, wet kisses; A.J.'s quiet shaking in perfect concert with Germane's constant expertise. This was where it would last, this perfect night with the moonlight, the high trees in the backyard and this painfully beautiful girl in her bed.

  Can dreams come true at thirty-three?

  Just then A.J. stirred, and the soft blue bed sheet fell a whisper off the young girl's naked bottom. There in the blush of one o'clock moonlight, Germane stared at her new lover's excellent easy skin—the firm roundness of A.J.'s downy backside—and a fleeting thought of controlled mayhem flashed through her mind. The older woman thought hard over the devilish scenario, this slice of information, then released it to the moonlight and her ‘maybe later’ file.

  * * * *

  whatralphwrought.com

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  Around Midnight

  © Tex Randall

  The call was unexpected and the caller even more so. Penny was a young lady of my acquaintance and quite beautiful in a long-legged, full-bodied, wholesome kind of way. Quiet and shy for the most part. She would be the last person I'd ever expect to call me. I didn't even know she had my number. I do know that I had never given it to her, but then I realized that I was listed in the phonebook.

  "Mr. Mark, this is Penny. You know, from the diner.” Her deep husky, exotic voice dripped from the phone.

  My mind overlaid it on my mental image of her, and I suddenly realized just how erotic she and her voice were. I cleared my throat for a second and asked, “Yes Penny, what can I do for you?"

  "It's more like what we can do for each other. Can you meet me somewhere? I need to ask a favor of you."

  My mind gave a jump at the first part of what she said. Visions of all the sexy things we could do together crowded my mind as a smile came to my lips. Meeting her somewhere wasn't a problem on my part, but it might be on hers. It was, after all, a small backwoods Texas town, and my being white and her being black could cause problems even in this day and age. My mind gave another jump at the word favor. More visions floated to the surface.

  "Okay, where would you like to meet?” I replied in as calm a voice as I could muster. My mind wanted to dwell on naughty things as only the mind of a dirty old man can.

  "I have a room at the Parkside Inn. Room 112. Can you meet me here in about an hour?"

  "Sure, but can you tell me a little of what this is about?"

  "You'll find out when you get here. I promise you won't be disappointed."

  Then she hung up.

  I stood there with the phone to my ear for nearly a minute more, fantasies buzzing here and there. Finally, the buzzing of a dead line made me put it down. I remained where I was, my mind lost in a haze of what ifs.

  * * * *

  I drove through the parking lot to the very back and parked. I sat and watched the lot for a while. What I was looking for, I didn't know, and probably wouldn't recognize it if I did see it. I was nervous, very nervous. I had taken a quick shower before I left, even though I had only had one an hour before.

  Why was I so nervous? Questions swam around in my head like so many fish. I didn't have many answers. Why had Penny really called me? I had no answer to that question, but it did answer the original one of why I
was so nervous. How much did I trust her, and how well did I know her? Yeah, more questions. Could this be one of those set ups that you read about in the paper or see on TV? Not very likely, my mind supplied, as I'm neither rich nor famous.

  Another answer that was highlighted by my mind was that I had never been alone with a black woman in my life, much less had anything sexual to do with one. That alone scared the hell out of me. Would I or could I measure up and to whom for that matter? Could I go through with it, if it happened?

  I'm old and pretty set in my ways. Despite my upbringing in the old south, I don't consider myself to be bigoted. But am I? Color was just that to me: color. Black, brown, red, pink, yellow. Color, like beauty, was only skin-deep. The person wearing it made all the difference, and Penny was one of the nicest, kindest people I had ever met.

  I took a deep breath and opened the car door. Now was the time to find out just what was up and how bad my mind was trying to scare me. I was probably making a mountain out of a molehill. She probably wanted me to lend her a little money or something just as innocent.

  * * * *

  I knocked on the door of her room. No one answered the door. I stood there confused for a second. Did I remember the number wrong?

  I started to turn away when the door opened a crack, and Penny's voice said, “I had to make sure it was you."

  "Well, I was when I left home,” I said to cover my nervousness.

  "Come on in, I won't bite you. Well, not unless you want me to,” she replied with a deep chuckle.

  I felt funny as I slipped into the room through the partially opened door. It was as though I was doing something illicit, something naughty. I hadn't felt this way since before my wife and I had been married. The few times we had slipped away to a motel to fuck our brains out in wild abandon had been exciting, and it felt much the same now.

  Penny closed the door and turned to me, a big smile on her face. “I wasn't sure if you'd come or not."

  "I nearly didn't,” I admitted as my eyes wandered over the wispy white negligee that accentuated, more than hid, her lush body. I could feel my manhood swell in the confines of my left pants leg. I had never seen her in anything but her waitress uniform, and this all felt so unreal for some reason.