Hidden Desires

by Laurie Ames

  Alex’s good luck became the whole town’s lucky charm. She set out to consolidate the Stanfield fortune. She purchased and renovated many of the dying front street businesses, and turned them into relevant stores, restaurants and boutiques. Along the way, she established rapport with the Laine Street ladies, finding ways to help them. They came over to enjoy lunches together. Sophia soon discovered that they made great friends because they always told you exactly what they thought. Some of the ladies on Laine Street retired from their profession and built meaningful lives by managing some of Alex and Sophia’s new businesses.

  All along, Sophia spent time thinking something would surely come along to shatter their happiness, but shed her fears after a few months passed with no word from her troubled ex. The days went by so quickly that they could hardly believe it when their one-year anniversary came around. Sophia and Alex spent a lot of time exploring their relationship and learning about each other. With time, they discovered how exactly to push the right buttons to get at each other’s nerves. This was fun when it did not go too far. Going too far meant Sophia would pick up her coat and not be seen again for a few days. Alex found that Sophia was like still water that runs deep, in other words remarkably calm, but a force to be reckoned with when pushed beyond her limits. Too far could mean Alex would hurl a set of dinner plates to the floor or leave Sophia’s coveted laptop out in the rain. Sophia would sometimes deprive Alex of her company because she knew how much Alex hated being alone. Meanwhile Alex would destroy things because she knew how much Sophia loathed waste and loved working on various computer projects.

  But after each little storm had passed, the two lovers could no longer stay angry at each other. They would always start fresh tomorrow, like their little spat had never happened.

  Sophia would spend every waking moment with Alex, leaving sweet nothings on sticky notes whenever she went to the bathroom or the grocery store. There would be breakfast in bed after making sure Alex brushed her teeth first. At noon, Sophia would insist on meeting Alex for lunch at her favorite restaurant. She would listen intently as Alex complained about one cocky colleague or another. She would make Alex’s favorite dinner and run her warm, herbal baths after she had spent long days at the office--baths Alex would never take alone. The pampering was endless, the giving sincere. Alex often wondered where anyone got the energy to be so attentive. In the end, Sophia would apologize so hard that Alex had to refuse some of these gifts. Sophia would then be warned that she was dangerously walking the line between romance and smothering.

  After a tantrum, Alex always swept up the broken pieces and stored them away. She knew she would need them a day or two later. When that day came, she would set everything on a table and begin to paste the pieces carefully back together. She would then have the cracks decorated so that the plates looked artistic, as if they had been pasted together with gold. Alex would put the plates in a box and bind the box with a large satin piece of cloth and place a bow around it. She would then present this gift to Sophia, a gesture which told Sophia all was officially well. A piece offering. Reparations at the end of a great war. Alex would then find one of her IT experts and send her out looking for some software that Sophia might like. Then they would go back to intervals when all was well and in near-perfect balance. Their relationship was unpredictable and crazy, but they loved it. This is what falling into a heady trance of love and passion was like … Their stars aligned and a great force had pulled them together. A love like this was to be cherished for life. Finally, they both felt at home.

  And every so often they wondered what had happened to the mysterious good Samaritan.

  ***

  The scrawny young man scribbled furiously in his notebook as he recorded his adventures in Bryony. He had sketched as many drawings of Sophia and Alex as possible so that he would never forget them. Brandishing Alex’s plum-colored nail polish, he remembered the tour he had given himself of her house. It was not his fault that she was careless with regards to locking doors.

  Of no importance to him was the fact that they would never get the chance to acknowledge him and his gift to them. A few more scribbles and he was done. He flipped the page and wrote down the name of his next destination.

  ~THE END~

  Return to Table of Contents

  Just Let Go

  Steamy Older - Younger lady Romance

  By: Laurie Ames

  PROLOGUE

  ____________

  A First Time Straight to Lesbian Romance

  For Marsha Blair, finding love, romance, and intimacy in your thirties is difficult. Marsha used to believe in sex and passion, but now her past life as a straight woman is behind her. Just recently divorced, Marsha tried dating men but could never find a real connection. Tonight, she was just looking for a fun night out partying with her friends, but then along came Brandy Wilder. Not only was she much younger, she was also a talented musician and an exotic dancer. Will Marsha be seduced by the burning chemistry pushing them together? When their lives begin to intertwine in unexpected ways, will they find a way forward?

  Content Warning: Scorching hot sex, explicit love scenes and naughty language 18+ only.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ____________

  “Bye Marsha, have a great weekend. See you Monday!”

  Her co-worker Lexi’s shout followed her out of the building, and Marsha turned to wave through the window as she headed for the parking lot. When she sat in her car and rolled down the window, she felt some of her stress evaporate into the cool fall air. She loved what she did, but damn it could be exhausting.

  It had been two months since she’d packed up her life and moved across the country for a job at a center for LGBTQ kids. “The Bridge’ was cobbled together several few years ago by some community members who had themselves lived through their own abusive lives.

  Marsha had heard about the center a year ago when one of her friends had shared a fundraiser for them. She did her research and had instantly known that if there was a chance to work there, she had to take it. When a case manager’s executive position came open four months ago, Marsha jumped on it. She had made it through the interview process and could barely contain her excitement when they phoned to offer her the job. The transition was easy, and she finally felt like she was helping her community in a way that was meaningful. The pay wasn’t anything exciting but at this stage of life, money wasn’t an issue. Marsha had plenty. Both her mother and daughter lived here in Manhattan, so she was delighted to be closer to her immediate family.

  Leaving her small town for the big city was easy to do. Her legal office was thriving but after twelve years of repetitive tedious work, she needed to make a difference in the world. Her recent divorce had been bitter and getting away from the small-town gossip and innuendo was refreshing. Her relationship with her husband had become sexless, and therefore boring. That said, living in a small conservative town meant being straight…period. But she knew there was a side to herself that was different. Marsha had always secretly fantasied about the lesbian lifestyle and knew from puberty that she was wired differently from the other girls. Her first quasi-experience started as a young lady when she and Molly Smith would hide in their bedrooms with the door locked, then have a competition while masturbating to see who could come first. Marsha usually won the competition but only because she was fantasizing about squeezing Molly’s perky white tits. They never crossed the line, so to speak, but the experience left Marsha forever marked with pangs of desire for other women. During her marriage, for the most part, she played the straight card. The one exception was when she and her husband would rent pornos for a fun Saturday night. Unbeknownst to him, Marsha would pick up some of the usual straight pornos then ask the guy at the counter to throw in one of the latest hot lesbian videos. Later that night, he would go to bed expecting her to follow for sex, but Marsha would stay up watching her lesbian movies while masturbating wildly. For many years, it was a mental itch she couldn't scratch. Then the
itch turned into thoughts. The last few years, the thoughts became strong urges. Like many women, she'd wondered what it would be like to actually have hot sweaty passionate sex with another woman. So, in the end, leaving a bad marriage and finding a new job in a tolerant city was a long overdue blessing.

  Just as she was finally getting ready leave the company parking lot, her phone buzzed. Marsha shot back a quick response to Lexi’s text reminder about a meeting they had on Monday with a musician who had been hired to raise awareness for their cause. Just as she put her phone down, it buzzed again. “Dammit!” she yelled. When she glanced down at the message, Marsha couldn’t contain her groan when she saw it was from her friend Nicki. She had completely forgotten they had plans to go out to a bar tonight with some other friends, and she briefly contemplated sending a text to bail on her.

  Her fingers hovered indecisively over the letters for a moment before she sighed and simply sent back a thumb’s up emoji. She finally pulled away in her car, then mentally started sorting through her closet to find something to wear. They were going to the Junction, a lively bar known for welcoming a mixed straight and gay clientele. To be honest, it was a bit of a dive bar, but they always had a energetic crowd of people in the 20-40 age group and the drinks were good.

  The drive to her condo was quick, barely five minutes, and she bypassed the elevator to trek up the eight flights of stairs to her door. Good for keeping in shape, she reckoned. Dropping her bag as soon as she was in the apartment, she checked her watch. 6:45. Just over an hour to get ready before going to meet up with everyone.

  Yanking off her work attire, she walked over to the closet and grabbed her go-to party clothes; especially the black skinny jeans that helped show off her tight ass.

  Clothes taken care of; she turned all attention to her blond hair and thick eyelashes. Once done, she looked again into the mirror and thanked the gods for her good genes and youthful looks. Her face had a soft bone structure that was all female and her smile was infectious. She had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. Other than the telltale crows’ feet that gently framed her eyes, she looked far younger than her age and was stunningly attractive. She was a woman that knew how to proudly inhabit her body. Just like a temple, she owned it and that was just plain sexy.

  Satisfied with the results in the mirror, she sprayed on some expensive cologne. She slipped on her soft leather black shoes with their high backs and thick soles that were just the right balance between femininity and practicality. She grabbed her purse from the credenza and walked over to the door.

  Locking the door behind, she glanced at her watch. 8:05. “Damn I’m good,” she muttered out loud, the words echoing in an indiscernible jumble down the stairwell. She made it to the taxi stop with two minutes to spare and texted Nicki. ‘On my way.’ Not bothering to wait for a response before sliding her phone into her purse, Marsha leaned against a pole, then waited.

  The evening air was crisp against her skin, and she savored the calmness of the moment. Even in the midst of a big city, there were moments of quiet when there were no truck drivers honking, no steam hissing from heating units, no people yelling at each other. As soon as she stepped into a cab, the quiet would end and the night would likely get louder. It was peaceful, and she had to force herself to ignore the whisper in her mind telling her to go back to her apartment and curl up with a good movie and some wine.

  The screech of an approaching taxi braking around the corner made her decision, and she grudgingly stepped aboard. Settling into the back seat, she glanced out the side window at the men and ladies on the street. Cute…. Way too straight…. Meh… Creepy. Giving up, she turned her gaze out the front window to watch the streets pass by.

  She wasn’t looking seriously looking for a partner, but it had been months since she’d last hooked up with anyone and the big city was lonely. Sure, she had friends to hang out with, and most of the time she was so introverted that she was quite happy to not have anyone demanding her time or energy. But still, there were nights when she longed for someone to be with, even if it was only a one-night stand. Since her divorce, she quickly learned that all the men her own age were usually ‘married’ and just looking for some action on the side.

  Waving at the taxi driver to stop, Marsha stepped out and mentally shook herself off. Maybe tonight she could at least find someone to dance with, if nothing else.

  Her phone vibrated as she stepped off the bus and looked down to see what Nicki had sent. ‘We’re inside, table by the bar.’

  Luckily there wasn’t a line to get in yet since it was early, so she made her way inside and craned her neck, trying to find her friends. A burst of laughter to her left drew her attention and she turned to see her friends gathered around a table, empty glasses already strewn about. Nicki was there for the men but her other friends were mostly lesbian. It was a great nightclub for straight, gay and lesbians to mingle.

  “Marsha!” Nicki shouted, catching sight of her and excitedly waving her over.

  “Hey Nicki,” she smiled, “Getting started without me?”

  “Never,” she grinned, before sheepishly looking at the tabletop. “Well, maybe a little. But we saved some for you!”

  Wrinkling her nose as Nicki thrust a grapefruit Margarita in her face, she gingerly gulped it back, letting the coolness burn its way down her throat.

  “It’s a good thing we’re already friends, or I’d be judging your taste in alcohol pretty harshly right now. You know I’m more of the fine wine type.”

  Smirking, Nicki patted her on the shoulder in a faux-patronizing gesture. “You, my good friend, have clearly forgotten the point of going out. We’re not here to critique the booze, we’re here to drink it, dance, and hopefully leave with the hottest man in here!” Her gaze lingered on one of the men standing on the perimeter of the room, muscles bulging from underneath his black top. Snapping her fingers in her face to draw her attention back, Marsha shook her head. “Down, girl.”

  Nicki pouted for a second before becoming distracted as she looked her up and down. “Well, not all of us are blessed with your assets, Marsha! And damn, I have to say you look dressed to kill tonight!”

  Marsha shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, well, lot of good it’s done me the last while.”

  “Are you kidding? You must be oozing with sex pheromones, the men are always chasing after you,” said Nicki with a chuckle. Wrapping an arm around Marsha’s shoulders, Nicki used the other hand to place another drink in front of her face. “Well, you know what they say; you can’t score if you don’t play the game! Now drink up; there will be karaoke tonight, and later there’s a show for the guys. I heard a rumor that one of the local talents will be here, and that will pull in lots of people.”

  Rolling her eyes good naturedly, Marsha took the shot and let the conversation from the rest of the group wash over her. The alcohol was already beginning to warm its way through her system, and she glanced towards the stage. If nothing else, she could at least watch the show.

  Time passed by quickly as the club filled with ever more people, the dance floor growing steadily more crowded. Nicki and several others had abandoned the table in favor of dancing some time ago, so Marsha had moved to the bar. She nursed her wine as she people watched, enjoying her wallflower status for the time being.

  The speakers crackled with static and then a massively amplified voice rang out over the crowd. A spotlight flashed onto a balding middle-aged man standing to the side of the stage.

  “Attention everybody, especially all you men out there tonight! The moment you all have been waiting for has arrived! We have our very own celebrity in the house tonight to help kick things off, and let me tell you, it is my great pleasure to have her up on this stage.”

  A lascivious smirk and wink at the innuendo drew chuckles from the crowd. "Please give a hand-metaphorically only- for the one and only Brandy Wilder!"

  Lifting her glass to her lips and taking a long sip, Marsha waited for the apparent cro
wd favorite to take the stage. The lights dimmed, and the opening chords to “I Get Off” played through the speakers. Interest piqued; Marsha felt the anticipation of the crowd starting to get to her. All the hype in the world, however, could not have prepared her for the sight that greeted her when the performer swaggered out onto the stage.

  Her jaw dropped and her mouth felt suddenly dry as she checked the performer out. She had a slim curvy toned body and raven black hair that cascaded in an unruly rocker fashion around her face. She wore black fetish leather pants with combat boots, and a leather jacket - she was basically one fine woman to look at. Marsha stared, captivated, as the performer began to sing. She had dropped the key of the song lower to harmonize with her voice and the rough gravel in her words made Marsha perk up in appreciation.

  Unable to tear her eyes away, Marsha felt a jolt of arousal pound through her groin as the performer suddenly made direct eye contact with her. A hint of dark eyeliner set her eyes off, and her stare burned into Marsha as she sang into the microphone. The raw sexuality radiating from her was clouding Marsha’s head, and she could only watch her sing, eyes never leaving her. In the distant reaches of her brain, she noted the performer was extremely talented, but she honestly thought she could have been croaking like a frog and would have still swooned.