by Harper Bliss
She kisses me again and it’s a kiss that doesn’t stop for minutes. While her lips are locked on mine, Hera draws a line with her finger from my chin, over my neck, to my breast. It dips underneath the cup of my bra, finding my nipple. I bring a hand underneath Hera’s shirt, my fingertips scratching the skin of her back. As her body presses into me, so does her belt buckle, but I restrain myself and don’t try to undo it and get it off her. If it leaves a mark, it’s one I will look at with nothing but fond memories.
Hera pushes herself up, the side of her shirt covering my belly. Her finger withdraws from my bra as she finds her balance, then she brings both her hands behind my back to take off my bra. She doesn’t say anything but I can see the wonder in her eyes when my breasts are bared to her. As though she had resigned herself to never seeing another woman’s breasts in the flesh again. I could be wrong—I could be reading Hera all wrong—but that’s how it feels to me in that moment. Like I’m a miracle Hera never even dreamed to hope for ever again.
I glance down as Hera comes for me, both her hands on my breasts. There’s hunger in her grasp, something untamable. Her true nature coming through that carefully constructed wall, pushing through, telling her that this part of her still exists. This particular moment of wonder I’ve seen many times and, every single time, it fills me with hope and gratitude and I marvel at how humans can deny themselves something so essential. But, no matter how adept we become at ignoring our needs, they always find a way to shine through again. It’s no different with Hera and the eagerness in her grasp is reflected in the pulsing of my clit. And anyone who has ever tried to argue with me that what I did was just sell my body, sell the naked act of sex in exchange for money, has never witnessed a moment like this.
I need to snap myself out of this train of thought. Hera looks up at me briefly, as if she knows I’m on my own personal journey as well, and I send her a small smile of encouragement, to let her know that I’m with her here, all the way.
She leans her head down and while her hands try to contain my ample breasts, she sucks my nipple between her lips.
“Oh,” I moan, and rake my fingers through her short hair. Hera licks and sucks and, then, bites down gently. My body sizzles with the heat that’s being generated between us. Her lips sear against my nipple, erasing all the memories that have no relevance tonight. Because tonight, I’m here with Hera, and this is more real than anything I’ve ever known. It holds more promise and gives me hope that, maybe I too, can be destined for love.
Hera’s wildness increases. Her lips on my other breast are less restrained. She pushes me all the way down, her hands sliding from my chest over my arms to my hands. She intertwines her fingers with mine, then kisses my breasts again. Her tongue flicks over my nipples, her teeth graze against my flesh. Then, she finally makes her way down.
I can’t help but squirm against the sheets. My legs are already spread for her, but I’m still wearing my panties. Not for long though. From Hera’s breathing, I can tell she’s past the patient, teasing stage. I can tell she wants to lick my clit as much as I want her to lick it. She aches for me the way I ache for her. And even though, on my way over, and throughout the hours we spent at the gallery, I didn’t even allow my mind to entertain the possibility of this for a fraction of a second, maybe the hope brimmed somewhere inside me nonetheless.
Hera kisses my inner thigh, inching ever closer to my panties, which have become a nuisance now. The last frontier before I give myself to her completely. And I want to give myself, I’m ready. I want to give myself in a way I haven’t in a very long time. No holds barred and, also, without a whiff of transaction to it.
Hera kisses my belly, just above my panties. I push myself toward her—my way of giving permission, or, perhaps, of telling her to get those wretched panties off me already. I want to be naked for her, show myself unrestrained, meet her growing wildness, her desire to please me, with everything I have—as my truest self.
Hera’s losing it as much as I am. She tugs at my panties now, showing her unbridled self to me in the process. We’re matched, I think, in this moment of desire, of nothing else but our need for each other, perfectly cast in the roles we’re in.
Hera sits between my legs, looking down at me. I only see the crown of her head but her gaze on me there is enough to set my skin on fire. She bows down, her body folding in on itself, and then, at last, I feel her breath on my swollen lips.
She kisses my inner thigh again but without the barrier of my underwear between us, the sensation is much more urgent, much more paralyzing. Because now I am at her mercy. I want her to do this to me.
Her lips reach my clit. She kisses it tentatively, but only for a split second. Then her tongue comes out to play and I’m lost. I disappear in the joy her touch brings me and it’s no longer just her tongue on my clit that I feel, it’s all her intentions, and all my own desires bursting through my flesh, straining under the surface of my skin. I’m as alive as I’ve ever been as I allow this very sensation, this surrender to another person completely, back into my life.
And god, I want her to fuck me, but I’m so aroused, my desire is so acute, that I’m not sure my body has the patience to hold out. And why would it wait, when it has waited all this time? Surely, this is not a one-night thing between us. It can’t be. Most likely, it won’t even be a one-orgasm night. What with the way my flesh is coming alive, and desire is crystallizing into pleasure on my skin. Hera licks and sucks my clit into her mouth. I rock my pelvis up to her, to her eager, able mouth; I press my hands into her hair pushing her as close to me as I can bear. And then I come because there’s no sense in waiting, in denying myself this burst of pleasure, this wave of nothingness and everything that takes me, and tethers me to her in a way I someday hope to adequately convey to her. But for now, I collapse under her touch. I free myself from who I was and become someone else with her—as we are always a slightly different version of ourselves with different people.
I cave in under the pressure of her tongue, of how it feels to be naked in front of her, opened up, vulnerable but safe in the knowledge that she knows what to do with me.
“Oh Christ,” I groan, and pull Hera toward me hurriedly. I look into her eyes briefly and before I pull her in for a kiss, I wonder if that was the beginning of a tear in her eye.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hera
I wrap myself around Katherine, feeling nothing but honored that she’s allowed me to drink her in like that, to take from her so freely the thing I wanted the most. For the privilege of burying myself between her legs.
She pulls me close to her and I rest my cheek on her chest. God, those beautiful, luxurious breasts. I fear I may never get enough of them. I wouldn’t mind lying like this for the rest of the night. But first, I fear, there’s a conversation to be had.
“Do you feel all tucked in now?” Katherine whispers above my head.
I nod, her breasts swaying with my movement. I don’t feel like lifting myself toward her, like facing her. I need this moment of quiet bliss, of her hand gently twirling through my hair, of the up-and-down of her chest beneath my cheek.
But I don’t want to take too many liberties either. And what do I really know about what a woman like Katherine’s thinking? All I do know is that she just came under my touch, and the power of that is unrivaled in what my life has become since Sam’s death.
Katherine’s hand wanders down my back, her finger tracing a line down my spine over the fabric of my shirt. She cranes herself toward me and kisses the top of my head. “I know it’s way past your bedtime now,” she says, “but let me give you something that will make you sleep like a baby.” Her body shudders underneath me as she chuckles.
Her hand has traveled up again and her fingers dig into my shoulder.
“Hera,” she whispers. “I’d very much like to kiss you again.”
The prospect of Katherine kissing me is too alluring to resist. I push myself away from her chest and peer into her
dark eyes. She looks like a different person lying in my bed like this. Her hair is wild, her gaze is full of something I haven’t seen in it yet. And she’s naked, of course. And newly recovered from a quick, inevitable orgasm.
She looks a bit like Sam.
I quickly push the thought from my mind because it feels so wrong to bring the memory of Sam into this situation.
“Come here,” Katherine whispers, and pulls me close to her. I can still smell her on my lips and my mind drifts back to that glorious moment when my tongue met her clit for the very first time.
She kisses me, her lips hot and silvery against mine, and I lose myself in this kiss, the way I’ve been losing myself since I pushed her against the wall downstairs.
“Can I take this off you?” Katherine asks, taking the collar of my shirt between her fingers. “I feel a bit naked next to you.”
“Let me.” I sit up and shoulder off my shirt. “Better?”
“It’s a start,” she says, “but I’m still feeling a little under-dressed.” She throws in a smile. “Or do you sleep in those jeans?” She quirks up an eyebrow.
I don’t immediately react.
Katherine tilts her head and, in the low light of the room, finds my gaze. “Are you all right?” she asks. Her voice is gentle, not a hint of insistence in it.
“I’m perfectly fine.” I try to sound light. “What just happened between us was magic as far as I’m concerned, but… erm, I’m not sure I can reciprocate in the same way.”
Katherine narrows her eyes. I can see her swallow hard. “Do you mean you feel uncomfortable getting undressed in front of me or… do you mean that you prefer not to be touched?”
“Both,” is the only word I can push past my throat.
“Come here.” She opens her arms wide.
I scoot closer to her again, and to be held by her with so much skin on skin contact is divine in its own way, but it does nothing to change my mind about what I want.
“Here’s a suggestion,” she whispers. “Show me the way to the bathroom and while I’m gone, you can undress and wait for me under the covers.” She kisses the edge of my ear. “If you want me to stay, of course. Do you want me to?”
“I’d like that very much,” I quickly confirm.
“I’d like that too.” She slides down until we are face-to-face. “I happen to quite like you.”
“You’re just saying that so I give you a good price for redoing your kitchen.”
Her lips curl into a half-smile. “You see right through me.” She plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asks.
I show her the way and fall onto the bed after she has left the room. I ask myself if this is some sort of defining moment for the rest of my life, but I don’t have time to answer that question—no matter how valid or silly it may be—while Katherine’s in the bathroom. I promised I’d undress while she was out of the bedroom, so I’d best get on with it.
I step out of my jeans and dispose of my underwear, throwing it in the laundry basket in the corner. While I’m at it, I hang my shirt on the back of a chair and find Katherine’s discarded clothing. I fold it, underwear included, and put it on the same chair.
I feel no need to hastily duck underneath the covers because this is not really about being naked. I’m too old to have many qualms about my body—and your partner suddenly dying rather puts having a patch of cellulite on your thigh into perspective. It’s only when the door to the bedroom opens that I throw the duvet back, inviting Katherine underneath it with me.
Her gaze flits over my body and when she meets me in bed, gluing herself to me immediately, I see desire glimmer in her eyes.
“Do you want to talk?” she asks, her face so close to mine that her breath warms my cheeks.
“Do you feel like we need to talk?” I ask.
She chuckles and I feel her breasts—nipples all perked up—shake against my skin. “I guess that means no.”
“Look.” I create a fraction of distance between us. “It’s not that I don’t know how to do all of this anymore, because I do—”
“I noticed,” Katherine says with a loopy grin on her face.
“Emotionally, I mean. Well, not just emotionally, but…” I’m not sure I have the words to explain this. Not now, after a night out—after going down on Katherine. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”
“Can I ask you one question?” Katherine’s face is more earnest now.
“Of course.”
“Is it your intention to make a pillow princess out of me?”
I can’t tell if she’s being serious or not, until she bursts into a giggle.
“I’m not going to lie,” she says. “After the life I’ve lived, I could probably get used to that.” This makes her laugh so hard, her entire body rocks.
I can’t help but laugh with her. Jill will have some work to do after so recklessly advising me to have some fun.
“For your information, my alarm clock goes off at five-thirty,” I say.
“Looks like I won’t be getting my eight hours of beauty sleep then.” Katherine pushes herself against me. “Heads-up, my complexion might be a bit off in the morning.”
“I look forward to meeting the early-morning you.” I kiss her on the cheek. No matter how the evening has ended, it was still one of the most amazing nights of my life. “Do you want to be little spoon or big spoon?”
“I wouldn’t for a second consider being the outer spoon, Hera,” Katherine says, and turns around in my embrace, so I can pull her backside close to me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kat
I wake up, it seems, only a few minutes after I fell asleep. Hera’s clock radio crackles way too loudly in my ear. Hera. Memories of last night flood my brain and I blink open my eyes.
“Sorry about that.” Hera leans over me and gives the alarm a good whack. She breaks into a smile while she squints. “Are you related to Katherine Jones?” she asks. “You kind of look like her, but also not quite like her.”
“Whatever happened to good morning, my love?” I groan.
“Morning.” Hera leans in and kisses me on the lips. “Did you get some sleep?”
“Not enough.”
“Don’t you have to open the Pink Bean?” she asks, an amused smile playing on her lips.
“Rocco’s opening this morning. I told him I had a big night planned.”
“What, getting his aunt into bed by ten?”
Hera looks a thousand times more relaxed than last night, when she didn’t want me to touch her. It makes me wonder if I should make a move now. But it’s early and I think it’s a safe bet to leave the making of moves to Hera for now. “Which I did, by the way. Mission accomplished.”
“Did you tell him you were taking me out?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure he knows by now. The gay gossip mill never stops turning. I’m willing to bet Richard texted him within minutes of seeing us together.” I pause. “Do I need to watch what I tell him?”
“Heavens, no. He has certainly never watched what he’s told me about his love life. All the things he didn’t want to discuss with his mother, he has always, very graphically, discussed with me.” Hera scrunches up her face.
“Are you giving me permission to tell him I spent the night with you?”
“He’s your best friend, Kat.” It’s the first time Hera has called me Kat. “And I trust you know where to draw the line.” She cranes her neck and looks at the clock. “I really need to get going. But feel free to linger.”
“How about I make you some breakfast while you shower?” I bat my lashes.
“I must have died and gone to heaven.” Hera pulls me in for one last hug, and I soak up all her warmth. I’m not sure when I’ll get the chance to savor it again.
By the time I arrive at the Pink Bean, it’s almost ten. I’ve stopped by my apartment to change my clothes and make myself presentable.
Rocco’s busy and just gives me a look. I jump right in and work
alongside him, only exchanging coffee-related words with him until the queue in front of the counter has dissolved.
“You sure took your sweet time this morning, K.Jo.” He steps back and crosses his arms in front of his chest.
I try to disarm him with a smile. “I’m so sorry, darling. One of those mornings.”
“I’m not going to be all coy with you about this. Hera is my aunt, Kat. Why didn’t you tell me you were going out with her?”
“I thought you were sulking because I was late.”
“I can handle a crowd.” He leans against the counter.
“I didn’t want to make a big deal of it beforehand. To be completely honest, I sort of expected Hera to cancel on me last-minute.”
He takes a step closer. “I’m just… very ambivalent about this,” he whispers. “She might not look it, but Hera’s fragile.”
“I can handle fragile.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can, but, on top of that, you’re mixing business with pleasure. What if things go wrong between you? Who will be caught in the middle then?”
“I think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself.” I can understand Rocco’s defensive attitude up to a point, but I hadn’t expected him to come down on me so ferociously—even though, most days, ferocious seems to be his default mode.