by Fiona Zedde
“Damn right you are,” Mayson said. “Don’t worry about me and Renee. We can handle what we have.” She sipped her beer and shook her head, laughing.
All this was nothing new to her. Portia wasn’t the first lesbian to question her relationship with Renee. Even Iyla at one time had been convinced that Mayson was having her best friend on the side. But that was back in college when bi-sexuality was the campus thing and Iyla herself was fucking every girl who looked twice her way and some who just looked good, regardless of their previous preference.
“Forget the straight girls,” Camille said with an airy wave. “Give me a full-on lesbian any day of the week, time of day, whatever.” She rolled over on her back to pull her shorts down and off, revealing the matching bottoms to her bikini. “Give me a girl who knows what she’s doing and I’ll be happy to let her do it—after I’ve had my turn.” She giggled, turning to watch a woman, muscular and slim with curly hair spilling over narrow shoulders, walk past. “Like that one. Damn, she fills out those jeans real nice!” Camille tossed another flirtatious look over her shoulder at Iyla.
Mayson watched Iyla struggle not to look at what was being offered. The pretty, full-lipped face. Soft handfuls of breasts, plump and spilling from the rainbow bikini top. Ten years of unshaken devotion.
Iyla cleared her throat and looked beyond their small shelter to the girl Camille had been leering at. “Is that really your style? Mayson looks kinda like that, and better too.”
Three pairs of eyes swung to Mayson. Camille seemed amused but happy to play along just the same.
“You’re right, Mayson is much cuter. A little softer looking. But I don’t mind Twinkies.” Camille giggled again.
“Don’t you people have anything better to talk about?” Mayson scowled at them, annoyed at this new turn in the conversation. She shifted under their stares.
“What could be better than talking about you, sweetie?” Camille asked. “We know you, we love you, and you’re hot.”
Iyla laughed, her face easy again now that she no longer had the thorny issue of her neighbor to deal with. At least for now.
“She’s absolutely right, Mayson. You have that soft butch thing going on, the strut with that long hair down your back. You don’t wear makeup but with that clear skin and those pretty red lips, why would you want to? Getting you is like a two-for-one deal.”
Portia jumped in. “Two for one, huh?” she smirked at Mayson. “I’ll flip you for the top.”
At the woman’s comment, Mayson’s eyes were drawn to her once again. In her arrogance, the other woman was irresistible. On a normal day, this kind of overconfidence would make Mayson want to either take Portia down a notch or ignore her. But today, with the sun soaking into her skin through the thin material of her shirt and pressing fiery little bites into her flesh, Mayson was getting … interested.
She looked the woman up and down from beneath discreetly lowered lashes. Portia wasn’t bad at all. Lying on the chair, her tall and spare form invited an appreciative mouth and hands even as her confident gaze assured anyone who cared to look that any sexual transaction that took place would not go one way.
Beside her, Iyla chuckled softly and leaned close. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Why not? It wouldn’t be anything serious. Someone like her would appreciate that.”
“You think so? Maybe. But in my experience, the ones who say that the sex is nothing serious are the hardest ones to get rid of.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Portia’s gaze interrogated them.
Mayson stared back. “You.”
“I hope you’re saying something interesting.”
The two women looked at each other, their lust out in the open.
“I was telling Iyla that I was interested in fucking you tonight, maybe for the weekend.” Mayson moistened her dry throat with the beer.
“Iyla doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Portia said. “Why don’t you ask me yourself?”
Mayson distantly heard Camille’s hum of amusement, felt Iyla’s curious eyes on them.
“Are you free for some casual, no-strings sex this weekend?” she asked.
“Hm.” Portia tapped a finger against her jaw. “Let me think about it and get back to you.” But her dark brown eyes twinkled as she got to her feet. Mayson waited for her to come close, to sink to her knees in the grass. Portia leaned over to straddle her. Her mouth hovered over Mayson’s a moment before making full and firm contact.
Mayson heard a low moan; it might have been hers but she wasn’t certain of anything but her need to drink Portia in. She grabbed Portia’s short hair to pull her mouth more firmly against hers. The body followed until they were tangled together on the blanket and Mayson became a heated and sticky mess under her clothes.
“If you’re fucking your friend, I guess it’s not an exclusive thing.” Portia breathed the hot whisper against her mouth.
“You’re the only person I’m interested in fucking right now.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Their mouths met halfway. This time it was definitely Mayson who made a noise. The slow, deep strokes of Portia’s tongue widened her thighs and nudged her hips into motion. They rocked against the grass.
“Unless you two plan to give us and the entire park a show, I suggest you break it up.” Iyla cleared her throat. “And I don’t think any of us would mind necessarily, but any future political careers would definitely be at stake.”
Mayson pressed her thigh against Portia through the loose shorts, then reluctantly pulled away. “You might have a point there.”
She directed the words Iyla’s way, not trying to disguise the roughness of her voice. Portia was a good kisser and she looked forward to seeing what else her mouth could do.
That night, while Iyla and Camille headed back to West Hollywood, Mayson hopped in Portia’s truck and allowed the other woman to drive her out to the two-bedroom apartment in Monterey Park.
“Take off your clothes,” she said, pulling off her shirt as soon as they walked into the spacious, well-lit living room. She didn’t wear a bra. Didn’t need to. Her breasts were small and firm, their tips already hard.
“Your bedroom, please.” Mayson chuckled at Portia’s eagerness but shook her head. “Those windows of yours are too wide and too damn open. I didn’t come prepared to perform for an audience. Maybe some other time.”
“Really?” Portia grinned. She looked intrigued.
“Let’s fuck now and worry about those possibilities later.” Mayson grabbed the waistband of Portia’s shorts, flicking the button open. “Where’s your room?”
It was like wrestling. Rough. Slippery. Unpredictable as to who would land on her back and when. Portia was stronger than she looked and Mayson had been told the same thing many times. With her hand buried deep in Portia’s pussy from behind, she grunted and gasped. Surprise. Pleasure. The suck-kiss sound of fingers plunging into her again and again, teasing Portia’s G-spot, kissing her pussy from the inside.
“Yes.” Portia gritted her teeth and spread her thighs wider. Her legs trembled.
It had been a long time since Mayson had been with someone as strong as she was, and she enjoyed not having to hold back, not worrying about hurting a smaller or more delicate body.
Portia howled her orgasm, her cunt squeezing Mayson’s fingers tight as she came. Portia panted, hanging on to the headboard like her body would fly away.
“Fuck,” she gasped.
Mayson slowly eased out of her, careful and tender. Portia shuddered but pulled herself up to her knees. She licked her lips, wiped the sweat from her face. She was gorgeous.
“And now that you’ve had your fun,” she said, her words tumbling over each other. She pounced and flipped Mayson over in the bed. “My turn.”
She dove between Mayson’s thighs, pushing them apart, her breath a moment’s tease on Mayson’s clit before she got to work. Pleasure ignited in Mayson’s belly.
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br /> She was ferocious in her search for all the spots that made Mayson moan. A finger probed wetly at Mayson’s ass while her tongue lapped at Mayson’s clit, circled it, flickered like dragonfly wings. Sensation uncurled in her lap. Portia really knew what she was—
Abruptly someone, a woman, appeared in the entrance to the bedroom. With the flames tearing at her, Mayson only noticed the waist-length black hair, caramel skin, a hand diving into jeans. The woman seemed anything but surprised to see Mayson and Portia in there. Their sex noises had probably warned her before she’d come looking. Her fall of jet-black hair barely rippled as she stared at Portia’s ass and spread legs, then at where Portia was joined with Mayson.
“I think—” Mayson gasped, for a moment unable to continue. “I think your roommate is home!” She curled her fingers hard into Portia’s shoulder, not sure whether she wanted the woman to stop or for fuck’s sake not stop until she came.
At her words, Portia’s excitement seemed to grow. Her tongue curled and thrummed harder. Mayson gasped again, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the pleasure close. When she opened her eyes, the woman was gone.
But Portia’s mouth was unstoppable. She delved in and retreated, sucked hard on Mayson’s clit, then pulled back, slid fingers into her ass and her pussy, fucking her quickly, then slowly. Frantically then languidly. Portia clambered up on her knees but kept up her relentless pace.
“Stop being such a fucking tease,” Mayson growled, but the woman only laughed. And kept up her unpredictable fuck-and-retreat pace.
Mayson’s body arched, prepared for orgasm, felt the lightning flashes of the peak lick at her skin. She groaned, but clenched her teeth against begging. She panted and clenched her hands into the sheets so she wouldn’t hurt Portia. But fuck, it was hard.
She looked down her body, past her sweat-slicked breasts, down her tight and damp belly to Portia’s fierce face, to the mouth moving hungrily against her furred pussy, Portia’s closed eyes, hands urging Mayson’s thighs wide.
“God!” Mayson threw her head back. She hadn’t had it this good in months! Not since Nuria and her endless appetite for pussy.
With each dive of Portia’s mouth against her flesh, Mayson shoved her hips up, fucking Portia’s mouth, rushing after the promised pleasure.
A flash of movement whipped her gaze away from Portia. The roommate stood at the foot of the bed with a red dildo strapped to her naked hips. She climbed into the bed, smoothing lube over the dildo’s thick head and down the shaft. Without pausing, she gripped Portia’s already upraised ass with one hand, the other dipping low to stroke the obviously dripping pussy. Portia groaned against Mayson. The roommate smiled, relishing the sound Portia made, and shook the dark curtain of hair back from her face. Mayson couldn’t help but notice the way her small breasts shimmied with the movement. Then she sank her big red dick into Portia’s pussy.
Portia surged against Mayson with a deep, guttural sound. But she didn’t stop what she was doing. Her mouth opened even more on Mayson, lapping and sucking, tongue-fucking, and vibrating with her moans as the woman fucked her, shoving her face deeper into Mayson’s cunt with each stroke.
The additional stimulation, the groans of the two women, Portia’s obvious pleasure in her roommate joining in, sent Mayson, finally, screaming into her orgasm. With her heart still thudding loudly in her chest, her breath huffing like she’d just run the most intense sprint of her life, she jerked away from the rhythmic push of Portia’s face into her. The other woman still lapped at her, intent on keeping her mouth busy as her roommate slammed intently into her from behind.
The woman’s bottom lip was clenched between her teeth, sweat dripping down her sleek torso, her tight breasts. Her hips pistoned forward, relentless, as Portia gasped and grunted into Mayson’s cunt. Mayson pulled away.
“No, stay!” Portia gasped.
The woman must have done something, moved her hips just the right way or stroked Portia’s clit, because Portia reared up in the bed on her hands and knees, crying out. Portia’s eyes rolled back in her head. Her roommate grinned in triumph, eyes flashing at Mayson.
“You can have her, honey,” Mayson said. “I’m just passing through.”
“Stay with us,” Portia insisted.
But the roommate would have none of it. She moved quickly from behind and brought Portia down into the sheets, licking and kissing her face, her throat, her breasts. Portia purred deep in her throat as the woman, crouched over her like a jungle cat that had gotten its prey, sucked on her nipples and worked her hands between Portia’s damp thighs.
Mayson enjoyed a threesome as much as anyone, but this was a little bit much. When she slid from the bed, neither of the women seemed to notice. She quickly pulled her clothes on and grabbed her shoes. On the bed, Portia flipped her roommate over and fiercely kissed her, pressing the wiry body into the mattress, spreading the slim thighs open with her own. The woman groaned and arched desperately toward Portia. Her short nails sank into the sweat-covered back. They both groaned.
This bed is way too crowded. Mayson turned and left.
Chapter 15
Renee slipped into the room and closed the door quietly behind her. Like most of the rooms in the two-story building that housed Mayson’s yoga studio, this classroom was steeped in silence. The floor and the walls were the same pale gold wood, like the inside of a sauna, except the wood under her bare feet was shiny and cool. Large windows, naked and open, allowed in the faint breeze, a shadow-shrouded view of the meditation gardens below, and the evening’s quiet. Renee sighed and sank onto the wooden bench at the back of the room. She put her canteen of cold water down beside her.
Wearing a pale green tank top and white tights, Mayson lay at the front of the room on her yoga mat, her lithe body bent backward in a tight triangle, stomach arched toward the ceiling, ribs a graceful slope toward the floor, the top of her head resting against the bottoms of her feet. Her black braid spilled onto the mat.
“Expand your chest with each inhale,” Mayson instructed in her low, carrying voice. “Soften your belly with each exhale.”
Her pose was one of perfect relaxation. Absolute ease. And everyone in the class—except Renee—mirrored her, some with more skill than others. With her back pressed against the wooden wall, Renee felt the room’s calm trickle into her until she was as relaxed as Mayson looked.
A gong sounded, deep and low, and Mayson slowly uncurled from her pose, braided hair slithering from the floor to rest against her shoulders, body moving upright to sit with her legs straight and facing the class.
“Bharadvajasana I,” she murmured and the entire room moved, shifting to mirror her body’s new position.
A wink, lightning quick, was Renee’s only clue that Mayson had seen her. Her friend’s face remained peaceful, untroubled, relaxed. Although she wanted to smile, Renee’s face tightened in envy. There were times when she felt so close to achieving personal peace that she could almost taste it. But she was the one holding herself back from the feast.
Watching Mayson, it was easy to imagine all of her life’s dreams coming true. Her photography would become more than a hobby. Her heart would be healed from Linc’s unthinking abuse. She would walk out of the darkness.
The gong boomed again.
“Uttanasana.” Mayson bent forward in a graceful arch. A simple stretch, with her chest tight against her thighs. Her braid tumbled from her back and swept the floor, black silk against blond wood.
Renee’s hands itched for a camera. They itched all the time now, especially when she was at work. A sure sign. But she was too afraid to give up the job that paid her mortgage and kept the lights on. Unlike her, Mayson had been fearless. Why couldn’t she be the same? Her best friend had been a lawyer and a good one, but after getting burned out on backward justice, she turned away from a successful career to pursue a dream. Mayson had always been the strength to her weakness, following her passions while Renee only talked about hers.
She blinked
at the sound of the gong. It rang out three times.
“Dhyana,” Mayson instructed, and as one the class folded into what looked like a Lotus position on their mats, their forearms crossed in front of their chests. They began chanting softly, touching a thumb to each finger of the same hand with each syllable of the chant.
Saa.
Taa.
Naa.
Maa.
The united sound rolled like a gentle wave through the room. Mayson lifted her head, connecting with each person in the class while her chest moved in rhythm to the chant. Renee found her smile when their eyes met. The peace came back to her.
The gong sounded again. Mayson released a deeper breath and a smile.
“That’s it for today, everyone.” She stood up, seeming suddenly taller, more approachable, and walked out into the class.
Renee stayed at the back of the room as Mayson talked with her students, smiled her encouragement at their words, gave a nervous-looking girl a squeeze on the shoulder. Here, in the studio, she was a different version of herself, quiet and calm, the very essence of peace and strength and the power to do anything.
Only when everyone was gone did she join Renee on the bench. Her body radiated warmth and she smelled pleasantly of sweat and her eucalyptus body oil.
“You know”—she reached for the canteen of water held loosely in Renee’s fist—“you actually have to participate in the class to benefit from this yoga thing.” She took a deep drink of the water and passed it back.
Renee accepted the silver canteen and sipped before twisting the cap to close it. She shook her head, already smiling in anticipation of the old conversation. “I don’t have that much flexibility in me.”
“I could teach you.”
Smiling, Renee rested her head on Mayson’s shoulder. A steady, intense heat emanated from her friend’s body. “I know but I wouldn’t learn.” She sighed and rolled her head back to look up at Mayson.
The warmth in Mayson’s eyes almost made her forget… everything.
“What’s on your mind, dimples?”