by Kiki Archer
Meg felt the table change height as it was clipped onto its wheels and shoved towards the cavern’s door. “Stop it! I’m not going in looking like this!” She jumped from the travelling trolley and dashed back to the safety of the big double bed. Finding her bra, she hauled it on quickly, glancing over her shoulder at the scene at the door.
“She be doing the escape!” cried Kuntse into the other room.
Meg ignored the commotion and pulled her jeans over her pants. A hand on her shoulder stopped her. She turned. It was Honey. She couldn’t meet her eyes; instead, she dropped her gaze down on herself, noticing the puff of paper pants escaping from the zip in her jeans. “Hello,” she said to the floor.
Gentle fingers lifted her chin. The voice was soft. “What a disaster.”
Meg looked at the eyes properly, before noticing the straw hair and oily drips. “They worked your hair too?”
“And my buttocks.”
“Did you get the full moon?”
Honey was nodding. “Yep.”
“The boob honk?”
“No! Did you?! Oh, that’s a step too far. I’m so sorry, Meg.” She looked over her shoulder at the two holistic therapists standing in the interconnecting doorway. “Go and find Gerty and Dot. They’ll be more than happy to take our places.” Honey rolled her shoulder. “She’s been working me so hard I think I might scab.”
Meg laughed while looking her host up and down. She was wrapped clumsily in a too-small towel, her hair was a mess, her face was shiny with oil, but it was the most beautiful she’d ever seen her. “I’ve missed you.”
Honey’s arms reached out quickly. “And I’ve missed you too.”
Meg laughed as their bodies slid against one another, her eyes suddenly drawn to the two women at the door. “Do you think we could go somewhere more private?”
Honey’s face was close as she whispered. “The shower’s the most logical choice.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Standing alone in the shower, Meg questioned what she’d been expecting. Was Honey going to ignore the fact they’d never gone any further than kissing and simply strip naked beside her, step in and soap up? Of course she wasn’t and any misplaced hopes of such action only served to redden the embarrassment of the disastrous day to date. Honey had seen her half naked, hair like Worzel Gummidge, mackerel-oily skin, and paper pants protruding in an awkward fashion from her jeans zipper.
She’d been led from the inter-connecting bedrooms, along the balcony landing to a super-sized bathroom that bore a striking resemblance to the Taj Mahal. A long, rectangular bath in the centre of the room served as runway to the huge dome-shaped mirror, marble surface and sink, and pillars that had no other purpose than to frame the extravagant scene. The shower was set off to the left and was more like a room in its own right. With three marble steps up and a quick turn right, the lavishly tiled area with numerous sprinkling systems was large enough to house a whole host of people. But here she was, alone, buffeted by a blast of water from the left and an intermittent spritz from the right. Honey had explained how it all worked with motion sensitivity, each area offering a different strength of spray. She’d then said she preferred the much simpler shower in the en-suite downstairs, and Meg was beginning to understand why.
She stepped away from the sideward blast and under a circular, more traditional looking shower head. The warm water started to fall. Meg relaxed her neck, looking upwards, allowing the spray to push back her hair. This was nice. This was heaven. The water seemed scented somehow. She wiped her eyes; no, the array of shampoos, conditioners and body creams lined up on a ledge, which she’d already sampled profusely, were the reason for the sweet aroma. She reached out for another bottle: Chanel Coco Noir foaming shower cream. Honey had explained during one of their late night chats that companies would send her packages of their latest promotion – clothes, perfumes, furniture. She’d even once been given a car. Liza apparently had some system in place where offerings would be re-gifted to charities, or fans, or crowds at events. But obviously some things made their way into the house. This huge selection of goodies seemingly one of them.
Squirting some of the luxurious lotion onto her hand Meg noticed the buzz of the shower. One of the motion sensors had gone off behind her. She turned, shocked at the sight. Honey, naked and smiling. Feeling the soapy liquid seep through her fingers, she brushed her hand against the top of her thigh.
The voice was soft. “I could use some of that.”
Meg looked down at the glistening soap suds. She wasn’t frozen in fear, she just didn’t know what she should do. Honey was standing naked… beautiful… Meg lifted her eyes, so stunningly beautiful. Her skin was pale yet peach-like and her breasts were full. She took a deep breath. She’d never been shy of her own body, she just knew she wasn’t all that amazing. Her own hips didn’t swell like Honey’s, and her waist wasn’t narrow or toned. Honey, on the other hand, was the picture of perfection: gorgeous and glistening with the water cascading over her curves. She was slim, but she still had that womanly figure, like a miniature hourglass, water droplets sliding over her like the soft sand passing through time.
Honey was reaching out, slowly, deliberately, sweeping the soap from her thigh. Meg wanted the hand to stay where it was, resting at the top of her leg, inches from the curve of her buttock, but it moved, the suds now stroked into Honey’s shoulder. Meg’s eyes widened. The action was slow and deliberate: Honey’s fingers moving across her own collar bone, down her sternum and pausing on her slim waist.
“Do you have any more?” she asked.
Meg looked down at the bottle and held it out towards the intruder.
The smile was innocent. “Could you?” Honey turned around.
Meg could do nothing but look on as the beautifully arched back and bottom came into view. The cheeks were so pert and so sassy. Meg smiled to herself. Honey Diamond had a sassy behind. She stepped forward and mustered her resolve. This was their moment. This was their time. She reached up and drew the damp auburn hair behind Honey’s ear, whispering slowly. “Why are you here?”
“For this,” said Honey, finding Meg’s fingers and drawing them round to the hourglass.
Meg felt herself pulled closer, her breasts grazing Honey’s smooth back. Honey’s moan was all it took to ignite the fire that had been sparking since the moment they met. Moving them both towards the wall, Meg replaced the cream on the shelf before locking fingers with Honey, pressing her palm up to the wall. She was behind, Honey facing away, enough of a gap between them and the tiles for her hand to slide up Honey’s body towards her neck. Meg tilted Honey’s head to the side, joining their eyes properly. “I want you,” she said with certainty.
“Have me.” The eyes were wild and pleading.
Meg realised she held the position of power. This wonderful woman with this beautiful body was hers for the taking. She kept their eyes locked. She could spin her round, please her from the front, go down on her knees as she pulled a leg over her shoulder, or she could hold their gaze and let her fingers slide slowly from the neck, past the chest, towards the taut torso. The eyes widened in anticipation as the fingers grazed lower. Honey wanted this, her quivering lips were needing this. Letting her fingers continue their downward journey, Meg paused at the top of the thigh before moving the leg to the side, widening Honey’s base, water now able to find a new course. Honey moaned.
Hearing Honey’s lips emit such a wanton sound was all it took for Meg to succumb. The plan had been about control: she’d take her time, she’d tease, she’d keep their eyes focused as she made Honey come. But here she was, tasting her mouth, devouring her tongue, twisting her round as she pushed their bodies hard to the wall, breasts on breasts, legs parting, thighs pressing. The gentle water continued to flow from above but there was nothing gentle about their connection. Honey, with her hand now free, had reached round to her hips drawing their bodies closer together. Meg took the hands and forced them back against the wall; she still wante
d control, she still wanted to give pleasure first.
Kissing Honey deeper, she forced the legs to the side with her own, the hourglass figure now star-shaped against the tiles. Meg pulled back momentarily and waited for the eyes that opened in a haze of arousal. “You’re perfect,” she managed to say.
“I want you to take me.” It was the same guttural tone only this time more demanding. Honey needed it. Honey wanted it now.
Meg kissed her roughly, forcing their hardened nipples together. She ran her fingers over the outstretched arms, pinning Honey to the wall, moving her mouth to her neck, soft and wet from the water. She let her tongue dart out before grinding her teeth along Honey’s jawline. Honey tilted her head, offering more of her flesh. Meg grazed harder, her teeth finding an earlobe. She pulled and sucked with her lips; Honey’s mouth quickly turned back into the action.
They were rampant, urgent, all-encompassing kisses. It wasn’t simply a meeting of mouths, it was a meeting of wants, of desires, of desperation to get closer, to feel more. Meg moved her hands from Honey’s shoulders, her thumbs stroking down to the nipples. She moaned into Honey’s mouth as she felt them harden further under pressure, each pinch causing an intake of breath. Honey was one of the lucky ones, her nipples sending wave after wave to her centre. It was the same for Meg, her nipples as worthy of attention as any other intimate area. She worked them harder, knowing how close she could bring her.
Meg felt Honey’s kisses become shorter, stuttering to make way for the moans and the gasps. This was her time. This was her moment. Keeping her hands in position, Meg dropped to her knees, her face exactly where it needed to be. She brought her mouth down, taking Honey completely. The wetness was different to that on her neck and her body, it was warmer, sweeter. Meg took more, widening her mouth and reaching with her tongue, flicking in time with her thumbs, working the nipples in sync with the movements. Honey was screaming, really screaming. She wasn’t holding back or being self-conscious, she was riding her hips forward, forcing Meg to take more in her mouth. Meg swallowed hard, increasing pressure and suction around the lips so her tongue could work freely, darting in and out of the warmth, and up and over her pleasure.
Meg felt hands drop down to her head; Honey had hold of her face forcing more pressure, more power. Meg was the one working but Honey was the one riding, really riding. Pushing herself forward as Meg worked with her tongue. The cries got louder and the motion more frantic. Honey was coming, she was coming right in her mouth. Meg pulled the nipples as Honey’s orgasm ripped right through her, legs shuddering as she held Meg firmly in place. Meg tasted the pleasure. It was so rich and intoxicating. It was Honey.
The voice was shaky. “You’re amazing.”
Meg looked up with wide eyes. “Only with you.”
“Come here,” the eyes were pleading for her to rise. “This doesn’t happen by chance. This was more than just sex, Meg. This was… this was…”
Meg found the right word. “This was magic.”
“Yes.” The smile was knowing. “It was like starlight.” Honey moved their mouths back together. “With you I get lost in the starlight,” she whispered.
Chapter Thirty
Feeling the weight of Meg’s body on her own, Honey moaned in satisfaction. They’d been in this position many times over the past three weeks, taking it in turns to dominate, arouse and give pleasure, and as yet nothing had been too much or too far, but as Honey felt her head bashing from left to right, hitting the hard plastic either side of her with a force that was making her dizzy, she took stock and shifted away from the contact. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, using her fingers to pull herself up to the car’s glass divider. “I told you to lose them, but not at all costs.”
The trail of paparazzi following the car that Honey, Meg and the infamous flatmate Jo were travelling in had grown almost three-fold since leaving The Alderley, with photographers confirming to colleagues it was indeed Honey Diamond in the back of the black saloon. How they knew was a mystery to all as both driver and passengers had played their parts in the ruse to perfection. Tammara, at the very last minute, had requested a different car to the one she was scheduled to drive, not quite as padded as Honey had just uncomfortably discovered. Jo had sat in the front, the only area of the car without black-out windows, in an attempt to fool the paps into believing she was a random Alderley resident being chauffeur-driven away, and Meg and Honey had lay prone in the footwell, enjoying their task that little bit too much. Tammara had ensured them the back windows were flash proof, meaning no clear shots could be taken even if the cameras were pressed right up to the glass, but Honey had insisted they’d better be safe than sorry and stay low.
Much giggling had ensued until it dawned on them their distraction had failed and a whole host of people were now following the car, causing Tammara’s erratic driving and their refuge in the uncomfortably squashed space they simply weren’t used to, the other cars being nicely carpeted with seats upholstered all the way down. Sitting properly, Honey looked out of the windows. Things with the press had escalated since the song and the interview, everyone desperate for that first shot of her woman, because that’s what the rumour mills were reporting: a woman who’d stolen her heart, a woman always close by her side. Looking across at Meg, now also back in her seat, she realised they were right. There was a woman, and she’d more than stolen her heart, she’d snatched it clean away, filled it with love, life and laughter, yet they were wrong with their supposition of proximity. Meg was too far away too much of the time, both of their jobs dominating their schedules. She had suggested Meg retire and become her new personal publicist, but this was not received with humour, as it was intended. Meg had declared her independence was key, and as much as she’d love to spend every waking moment with Honey, it was simply too much too soon. Honey had confirmed she’d been joking, but had started to wonder if Meg feared true commitment.
Looking over at her now, staring anxiously out of the window, she questioned it once more. “They’ll get their picture eventually,” she said.
“But we’re going to the back entrance, right? That’s what you told Tammara?”
Honey nodded. The Muse was prepared for celebrity diners like herself, the back entrance only accessible via the underground car park manned by security personnel and fully enclosed to ensure an exit from the vehicle would be seen only by the waiting maître d’.
Jo piped up from the front of the car. “Do what you want but I’m getting dropped at the front.”
Honey looked at the busty blonde. They’d met for the first time thirty minutes ago and for now she was reserving her judgement. Meg had put off their previous meetings, postponing at the last minute, always finding a reason to stay at The Alderley instead of heading back to her place where there was a chance they might meet the other woman in her life. Honey had been very careful not to sound precious, and it was true, she didn’t mind where she stayed as long as she was with Meg, and more than that, she wanted to see her home, her house. Meg was constantly correcting her that it wasn’t a home or a house, more of a bedsit in Clapham, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? And Jo couldn’t be that horrendous, could she?
“My first time at The Muse,” continued the blonde, “and I am not entering via some scutty underground tunnel. Gavin’s meeting me out front anyway.”
Honey smiled. There was a big difference in the celebrity world between those wanting the attention and those not needing it because they already had it. “Meg tells me he’s a footballer.”
“Er, like the best.”
Honey watched as Meg’s hand moved through the gap towards the front seat, no doubt squeezing her flatmate’s arm in an attempt to control. “Who does he play for?” she continued.
“Are you serious?” The tone was disparaging.
Meg cut in. “Honey doesn’t follow football.”
“Everyone knows who Gavin Grahams is.”
Honey put her hand up in apology. “I’m sorry, I don
’t.”
“Well, don’t tell him that, for god’s sake.”
Honey laughed. It was actually refreshing to have someone so snippy towards her. No one would usually dare, but Meg had warned that Jo might be a tad resentful, viewing her as the reason she no longer saw much of her flatmate. In the three weeks since their first steamy shower encounter, things had moved fast. Late night meetings, secret stop-overs and so much sex it was wild. Honey closed her eyes as she often did when remembering. Meg could arouse her, instantly. She could make her come in so many different ways, and had, in so many different places. She’d been endearingly shy about her lack of experience, so either they were a match made in heaven, or Meg was hiding some illicit past prowess, but in all honesty she didn’t really care. Meg was hers now, and if only she could encourage her to take that next step and be pictured beside her. Yes, the press would go crazy, but they’d get over it, and they’d simply become the new biggest thing. Honey and Meg, Meg and Honey. They looked good together. They looked sweet. Honey opened her eyes and smiled at her girlfriend, and was met not by a returning smile, but instead by a worried gaze and anxious eyes. One step at a time, she told herself; Meg wasn’t one to be rushed. “No one will see us at the back entrance,” she whispered.
“But the diners in The Muse,” she whispered.
“You said you’ve been before. They’re not ones to lift their phones. Not to take pictures anyway. People know I’m seeing someone. The worst they can do is confirm with written descriptions your beautiful face and pretty outfit.”
Meg looked down at herself. “You’re sure I’m okay?”
“You’re perfect, and if you’re ever worried just make use of my girls. I did offer them today, remember; you should have come in.”
Meg lifted her finger to her lips, shushing the comment as she leaned back into her seat and mouthed. “It’s bad enough she’s here. I had to hold her down in the car until you came out. She’d have found fault with your furniture, lifted her nose at your neighbours. No chance. I don’t know why I even agreed to all this anyway.”