Moxie arched her back. “Oh, you’re urgent, and use your teeth. Oh, shit. Just like that.”
Violet pulled away for a minute. “And what’s my tongue doing? Is it staying up here?”
“No. Your tongue is…doing what it was doing in the baggage car.”
Violet slid her hand down between Moxie’s thighs. “So you want it down here?” she asked, beginning to stroke her with two fingers.
“Oh, my God, yes! There.”
“So you want me to stop doing this?” Violet put her mouth back on Moxie’s erect nipple, now licking it in perfect rhythm with the movement of her hand against Moxie’s slick clitoris.
“No, wait. Don’t stop. That’s so…mmm.”
Violet needed no further coaxing, and she followed Moxie’s instructions as closely as possible. She was urgent, and she was definitely using her teeth.
Moxie’s hips rocked in time with Violet’s ministrations, and their pace quickened as Violet moved her lips over to Moxie’s other, heretofore neglected, breast. It was clear that Moxie was close to orgasm, and though she contemplated putting it off, it had already been delayed far too long, days and weeks too long.
When Moxie’s climax came, Violet savored every moment of it—Moxie’s head thrown back, her suddenly rigid body, and her deep, guttural growl.
Moxie’s chest heaved as her hands moved to her flushed face. “I don’t think I’ve ever—what are you doing?”
Violet slowly descended farther down Moxie’s body, pausing to kiss Moxie’s stomach on her way south. “I can’t stop thinking about how you taste, and how you thrust against my tongue when you’re in my mouth.”
“Shit,” Moxie hissed.
“You’re not the only one with fantasies, sugar.” This time, Violet’s movements were slow and deliberate. She kissed and licked Moxie everywhere, but lingered in the areas that made Moxie moan and, more strikingly, spew profanities.
Moxie’s fingers threaded through Violet’s hair, and she began to caress Violet’s scalp, subtly directing her. Again, Violet followed the trajectory that Moxie set, and when she boldly slipped a finger into Moxie’s vagina, she didn’t slow her mouth’s pace.
When Moxie’s second orgasm hit, it seemed to last longer than the first, and Violet struggled to keep pressure directly on Moxie’s clitoris to maximize it. Once it abated, Violet moved back up the bed, her eyes locking with Moxie’s.
“That was incredible,” Moxie gasped, kissing Violet deeply. “I want to make you feel this way.”
“Mmm, I second that motion.”
Moxie traced her fingertips lightly down Violet’s jawline and neck, to her breasts. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“I’m a little embarrassed by this question.”
Violet slid beside her on the bed and propped her head on her right fist. “It’s all in the wrist, if you really want to know.”
Moxie squinted her eyes and turned on her left side to face her directly. “Um, that’s good information to have, I’m sure. But I was wondering what I…or rather, if I reciprocated that first night we were together.”
“Reciprocated?”
“I mean, did I make you—”
“Sweetheart, what do you think happened that night?”
Moxie grimaced. “Well, I’ve imagined something very similar to what you and I just did.”
Violet tried not to smile, but had a feeling she wasn’t completely successful. “You don’t remember any of it?”
“I think I remember you kissing me.”
“Actually, you kissed me.”
“So I initiated everything?” Moxie asked, looking self-conscious.
“Honey, that was everything.”
“What?”
“Granted, without a doubt, that was the best kiss I’ve ever received.”
“So we didn’t—”
“You told me you liked me. Then you planted one on me—it made me see fucking stars—and you fell asleep.”
“You mean I haven’t been a lesbian all this time?”
Violet brought her index finger up to her mouth. “I don’t know, you taste a little like a lesbian.”
Moxie looked stunned, as though she had seen the dead rise and begin to spank each other. Violet felt a pang of guilt for being so glib.
“Why did you assume we had already been intimate?”
“The note you left me sounded very…and besides that, when I woke up my clothes were off.”
Violet brushed Moxie’s chin with her thumb. “I didn’t want your dress to wrinkle.”
“Oh. So you were just being nice?”
“Well, I was also dying to see you in your underwear.” Violet ran her hands along Moxie’s waist to the small of her back. “You didn’t disappoint, by the way.”
Moxie laughed. “Thanks. Did I do anything else that night that I should know about?”
“There was that bum on Fifty-second Street whom you tried to entice to suckle at your breast by baring a nipple and shouting ‘free milk.’”
“What?”
“No, wait. That was Wil. Sorry.”
“Thank God. So nothing else? I didn’t lift up my skirt in Times Square for passersby?”
“No,” Violet replied in amusement.
“Or offer to sing along with anyone who played a spirited ditty with a random body part?”
“Not that I recall. The only other noteworthy thing you did that night was get me to fall for you.” Violet leaned closer. “And make me want you so badly.”
“I did that?” Moxie’s face was only inches from Violet’s.
“Oh, yes,” Violet whispered, still slowly massaging Moxie’s waist and buttocks. “And I’ve ached for you ever since. I need you to touch me, love.”
Moxie kissed her, tracing Violet’s breasts, stomach, and the curve of her hip with her fingers. “Like this?”
“Mmm, that’s a very nice start.”
“Tell me what to do.”
Violet brought Moxie’s fingers to her lips, where she could nibble and lick them while Moxie watched, entranced. With great deliberation, Violet drew Moxie’s wet digits down her naked body, lingering on her left breast before continuing down her abdomen. “Do you want to keep going?”
Moxie only nodded, seeming mesmerized.
Violet continued to gently direct Moxie’s hand, guiding it between her legs and moving it sensually up and down. “Can you feel what you do to me?”
“God, yes.”
Violet shifted onto her back, pulling Moxie with her so that Moxie now straddled her right thigh. “Touch me the way you touched yourself last night. I want to feel exactly what you felt.”
Their mouths met, this time more insistently as Moxie began to stroke Violet in small, tight circles. As Moxie ground her pelvis against Violet, Moxie’s slick wetness on Violet’s skin was driving Violet crazy, and she began to rock her own hips in response.
Moxie briefly broke their hungry kiss as she continued her attention to Violet’s clitoris. “How is it that when I’m touching you, I’m so close to coming?”
The question, coupled with the breathless way Moxie asked it, sent a surge of raw desire through Violet that brought her that much closer to climax. “Wait for me,” she rasped.
“I’m not sure I can.” Moxie continued riding Violet’s thigh.
“I’m so close.”
“Oh, baby, please.”
Moxie’s desperate plea put Violet over the edge, and as the waves of rapture flooded her, she felt Moxie tremble above her, succumbing to her own release. Moxie’s body sank against Violet’s as they both tried to catch their breath.
“Have I mentioned,” Violet said, “what a pleasant surprise it is that you climax so easily?”
“You’re not the only one who’s surprised by that. If I’d known sex could be like this, I’d have been having it constantly.”
Violet ran her fingers languidly through Moxie’s hair as she held her close. “You should make a resolut
ion to start doing that.”
“Having constant sex?”
“With me,” Violet added. “That’s a very important element of the proposed resolution. One that you shouldn’t overlook.”
“Is that what you want, Vi?”
“Among other things.”
Moxie shifted slightly and stared for a moment at Violet before speaking. “Other things like what?”
“You, Mox. I want you in my life, exclusively, and I selfishly want you to want the same.”
“Oh, I do.” She kissed Violet softly. “But what will we do about Cotton?”
“You know, he ultimately works for you. You could tell him to butt out or—”
“I’ll fire him?”
“I was going to say you’d sic Wil on him.” Violet chuckled. “But firing him might be more humane.”
“You know, I underestimated Wil’s vindictiveness.”
“And you don’t even know the half of it.”
“I’m happy to leave it that way.” She snuggled against Violet again. “You know, we should do something for that nice woman who agreed to switch rooms with you.”
“Without whom none of this would have been possible.”
“What was her name? Do you remember?”
“Um, I think it was Davis. Yes, Bette Davis.”
*
Cotton walked as slowly as he could from the water closet at the end of the train car back to the drawing room. He had never in his life been as ill as he had been for the last twenty-four hours. As though the horrible cramping and gas had not been bad enough, he had been cursed with a need to void his bowels almost every fifteen to twenty minutes, though void seemed like a vast understatement for something with the force of a fire hose. Worst of all, he was now reduced to limiting even simple movement, like bending or stretching, for fear that something ungodly would happen when he exerted himself.
He opened the door to the drawing room with deliberate caution and was surprised to see Wil, Irene, and some doe-eyed blonde playing cards.
“All hail, Caesar Bagodoucheus,” Will said, not even looking up from her hand before she discarded. “How’s the anus, chief?”
He was angry all over again. “Who is this? Where are Moxie and the dyke?”
The blonde scowled as she drew a card. “You weren’t exaggerating. He’s every bit as offensive as you described.”
“Shocking, isn’t it?” Wil asked.
“Rummy,” Irene called, excitedly putting down all her cards.
Wil looked irritated. “You bitch.”
“Hey. You said you’d stop calling me that if I kept playing.”
“Sorry. You’re right. I take that back.”
The blonde finished adding the score and set her pencil down. “Irene, you’re now ahead by fifty-five.”
“Twat,” Wil spat.
Irene pouted. “Hey!”
“What?” Wil asked innocently. “That’s what you yell when someone leads by any number divisible by eleven. Don’t you know the rules?”
“I didn’t realize this was twat rummy,” the blonde said.
Wil smiled. “Darling, that’s the only kind of rummy I play.”
“Who the hell are you?” Cotton repeated.
“To you, I’m Miss Davis,” she answered, shuffling the cards, then dealing them. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m sorry,” Wil said. “Where are my manners?” She gestured to Cotton. “Bette, this is everything that’s wrong with men.”
Bette put her cigarette in her mouth as she began to sort the cards in her hand. “In that case, we’ve already met.”
Irene laughed to the point of snorting.
“What the hell are you giggling at?” Cotton snapped. “And where are Moxie and Violet?”
“They traded rooms with Bette,” Irene replied, adding her discard to the pile.
“What? But you were supposed to keep an eye on them!”
Irene didn’t even look up. “Bette here is a contract player at Universal Studios. When we get to Hollywood, she’s promised to introduce me to some important people.”
He wasn’t following her. “Huh?”
“I don’t need you and your intimidation,” Irene clarified. “So stuff it up your ass, pal.”
Wil drew a card. “I don’t know, ’Reeny. It’s been a very busy orifice lately.”
Bette exhaled smoke through her nose. “Do you mean him? Or are you actually talking about his rectum?”
Wil seemed to ponder the question. “As much as I can imagine referring to Cotton when I say it’s been a very busy orifice, I meant his toxic—”
“Shut up!” They all stared at Cotton, though the disdain in their eyes was apparent. “I am sick of every one of you—your sarcasm and your base crassness.”
Bette turned back to her cards. “Wil, you didn’t mention what a blustering nance he was.”
“Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind.”
Cotton couldn’t take any more of being spoken about as though he wasn’t even in the room. “That’s it! I’m done with all of you. Good luck trying to get your pathetic careers off the ground. You won’t get any help from me.” He looked directly at Bette. “Especially you, you bug-eyed bitch. You’ll never get anywhere with that face.”
He stormed into his room, slamming the door. As he lay on the bed, he felt no remorse for his outburst. Those women didn’t know who they were dealing with.
Chapter Fourteen
One at a time, all five women descended the train steps, finally arriving at the final stop of Pasadena. Violet set Clitty down in the grass so he could frolic and tend to nature’s impulses.
“My God,” Moxie said. “It’s beautiful here.”
“You think that now,” Bette answered with a throaty laugh, lighting her cigarette. “Wait until they start feasting on you like locusts.”
Moxie’s face fell. “Um—”
“And latch on to you until you’re nothing but a dried husk,” Bette continued.
“What a picturesque backdrop you’ve painted,” Violet said.
“Good Lord.” Wil extended her hand before her brow to block the bright sunlight. “Look at all those…what do you call those things that you vomit and pass out under?”
“Trees,” Violet replied.
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”
“What have you been vomiting and passing out under since you’ve been in the city, Wil?” Moxie asked.
“Men.” She adjusted her skirt.
“Wil, congratulations on keeping your legs together and your wits about you this entire trip,” Violet said sincerely. “I realize it may have been difficult for you at times.”
Bette smiled. “Especially with that agent.”
Wil put her hands over Irene’s ears. “Watch your language, madam. We try not to use the A -word.”
“Especially since Moxie’s A -word happens to be such an A -word,” Violet added.
“Well, as horrid as that man and his emanations were, I did manage to have a lovely time,” Bette said. “It was by far the best twat rummy I’ve ever played. But now I must be going.” She hugged the others and bid them farewell.
“I can give you a lift, Bette,” Violet said. “My driver is here.”
“Thanks, Vi. But I have a ride waiting too. He’s right over there.” Bette pointed to a convertible coupe. “So you’re all staying at the Garden of Allah?”
“As long as they’ll have us,” Wil said.
Bette removed her cigarette from her mouth as she chuckled. “Clearly you’ve never stayed there before. I’m not sure there’s anyone they wouldn’t have.”
Violet put her hand on Wil’s shoulder. “And in that way, the Garden of Allah is very much like Wil.”
Wil’s eyes narrowed. “Are you channeling Julian or something?”
“As a tribute to him,” Violet explained, “I couldn’t let a golden opportunity to call you a whore slip by untried.”
Wil sighed. “It does make me miss him.”<
br />
“Well,” Bette said, “I know where to reach you all. Good luck.”
“Where’s Cotton?” Moxie asked, as they all waved good-bye to Bette.
“I’m not sure,” Violet replied. “But there’s our car. We should probably get in it before Mr. McCann appears and sees Clitty.”
Moxie frowned. “Why?”
Violet gestured to the two porters carrying their bags which car was hers. “Clitty may have left a souvenir of sorts in Mr. McCann’s shoe.”
“A souvenir?” Irene asked. “Like what?”
“It’s smaller than a breadbox,” Wil hinted. “And it smells like shit.”
“Oh.”
“Hiya, Fitzy.” As he waited dutifully holding the rear door open, Violet grabbed his chin and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Ladies, may I present Fitzhugh, driver to the stars and currently slumming it with me. Fitzy, this is Irene, Wil, and Moxie.”
“It’s a pleasure, ladies,” he said as they all piled in. “Are you headed to the Garden, Vi?” He started the engine.
“Yes, thanks.” Violet set Clitty on the seat beside her.
“Wait,” Moxie said. “We can’t leave without Cotton. How will he find us?”
“She’s serious, isn’t she?” Wil looked incredulous.
“It would seem so,” Violet answered.
“We can’t just leave him.”
They all stared at each other in silence.
“The hell we can’t.” Irene banged her fist twice on the upholstered roof of the vehicle. “Let’s go!”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Moxie mumbled softly.
“Of course he will. He’s not a child, after all,” Wil said. “Even if he does shit his pants like one.”
When there were no further protestations, Fitzhugh pulled into the street, headed toward Los Angeles.
Violet caught Fitzhugh’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Did you manage to get hold of some contraband, Fitzy?”
“I couldn’t look you in the eye if I hadn’t, Vi. Check under the blanket.”
Wil pulled the blanket to her left away to reveal a bucket filled with an iced bottle of champagne and several glasses. “Holy shit! We’re not even there yet, and it’s already like heaven.” She started fiddling with the cork.
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