My Secret Alpha Step SEAL

by Paula Mabbel

  “Oh, Lea, I’m so sorry,” Adaline said with wide eyes. “What she did to you was wrong. I can’t believe anyone could be that heartless. I mean, I know I’m not perfect, but I’d never do anything like that.”

  “I’m not saying that you would,” Lea said quickly. “It’s just hard to figure out whether I can trust you, I guess.”

  “Well, maybe this will help,” Adaline said as she plucked all the courage she could up from her ego and stood up, before walking over to Lea and slowly kissing her. The taste of cherry lipstick and coffee filled her senses and drove her hunger. She let her lips press more firmly against Lea’s as her kiss turned harder with the slow-building anticipation over what could come next, if she played things right.

  She let her hands stroke all the way up Lea’s legs until they had reached the curve in her waist and then she pulled her closer, so that their breasts were pushing against each other’s in the midst of the embrace. She waited for Lea to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, she matched Adaline’s kisses with her own and brought her hands up playfully, as they dipped below Adaline’s top and left goose bumps in their wake.

  Adaline let her hands drop, until they were cupping Lea’s ass and then she slowly brought them up, until they were resting on the waist line of her jeans. She could feel her entire body heating up as a result of Lea’s fingers, which were lazily drawing circles around Adaline’s hardening nipples. Adaline let her fingers drop below Lea’s waistline and she couldn’t help but smile when she heard a small gasp escape from her pretty pink lips.

  She pushed back against Lea’s body, until the wall behind her stopped her from going any further back and then she let her fingers stroke lightly down her stomach, until they reached the line of Lea’s panties. Adaline stopped for a moment, her fingers hovering just before the wetness that she’d helped to create. She let her eyes connect with Lea’s and she gave her a chance to call it off. She waited. She looked into her eyes, but all she could see was the same desperation that she could feel in her own, as the need to be touched built up between her legs, but suddenly came to a pleasurable climax for Lea as Adaline took her fingers down and started to gently slide them in and out.

  Adaline could feel Lea’s legs going weak as she gently stroked and slid her fingers around the damp, hot space between Lea’s legs. She could hear Lea’s breaths getting shorter and more frantic as her fingers started to dig into Adaline’s back. Adaline let her fingers get quicker. She dipped them deeper into Lea until Lea was relying on Adaline to stay standing. She could feel Lea’s body quivering under her every move and then suddenly everything became tighter, as Lea let a long, hard groan escape from her lips and Adaline knew that she’d taken her exactly where she needed to be.

  “So, does that help at all?” Adaline asked Lea when she’d given her enough time to catch her breath.

  “Does it help me trust you?” Lea asked.

  “Yeah,” Adaline said with a smile, as she brushed away a curl of Lea’s raven-black hair from her face.

  Lea didn’t say anything for a moment, as her eyelids fluttered shut under the soft touch of Adaline’s hands. “I don’t think it’s helped me trust you,” she said with a playful smile.

  “Oh,” Adaline said, unable to hide the disappointment from her voice.

  “It’s defiantly made me want to try, though,” Lea said with a grin, as she brought her lips to Adaline’s.

  *****

  THE END

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  Here is a FREE 9000 word Lesbian Romance story “Her Roommate’s Little Secret” by Cassandra Michaels.

  Her Roommate’s Little Secret

  A light snow fell over the Willow Creek School for Fine Arts as Magdalene Rousseau lugged her suitcases and cello into her new dorm. Maggie, as she was known to her family and friends, had just left her hometown in California for the snowy mountain town of Winona, Vermont. She didn’t know anything about snow, or even cold weather, but Willow Creek had one of the best cello conservatories in the country, and she couldn’t say no when she was accepted right out of high school. So at eighteen, Maggie traded the sun and sand of the West Coast for the snow-capped mountains of New England.

  She wasn’t sure she was going to make it.

  Maggie’s whole life had been devoted to the cello, from daily lessons with a world-renowned symphony musician to four years at an intensive performing arts high school. But she’d never been more than a few steps away from her parents. Now, she was a college freshman on the other side of the country, where she didn’t know a single soul. She had been assigned a roommate, but they hadn’t spoken to each other yet. All Maggie knew was that her roommate’s name was Clover Bloomwood, and she was a theatre major.

  Maggie stood outside her room on the second floor, almost afraid to walk in. Opening the door would make it even more real, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to commit. Not yet. But as groups of other students walked by her, arm-in-arm and laughing, she knew she had to hide away for a little while. Just long enough to get used to the idea of being surrounded by strangers.

  With a click of the lock, Maggie opened the door to her new room, and was surprised at what she saw. She had certain assumptions about what a dorm room should look like (tiny twin beds, cinder-block walls, cheap wood dressers), but this was nothing like that. Wood floors and walls covered in artsy wall-paper surrounded a room made up of one queen-sized bed and another queen-sized bed that had been turned into a loft. Under the loft was a plush purple sofa and flat-screen TV, and the dressers were wood, but they were stylish black-lacquered wood with glittering white drawers. Maggie thought she’d have to go out and buy linens, but the beds were already covered in fluffy lavender comforters and piled high with matching pillows.

  Maggie dropped her bags on the floor (gently placing her cello against the wall… she wasn’t an animal) and marveled at how… nice… her new dorm was. In fact, it was fancier than her room at home. She wasn’t sure which bed was hers, but then she noticed that it looked like her roommate had already unpacked. There were several guitars hung on the wall, and the bed on the floor had a few strange-looking stuffed animals that had been nestled in the pillows.

  With an exhausted sigh, Maggie collapsed in the middle of the floor and lay out flat, her long chocolate hair fanning out behind her. It had taken her two days to get from California to Vermont, and she’d depleted all of her savings to buy her cello the seat next to her on the plane. People looked at her like she was insane, but every penny her parents had was tied up in that instrument. She had to treat it like it was a member of her family. And now that she was officially at Willow Creek, the cello was her future.

  Maggie pushed her glasses back on her head and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear away her fatigue. She felt like she hadn’t slept in days, which given her travel time and layovers, she probably hadn’t. She was just considering a quick nap before her first orientation session, when she opened her eyes and shrieked in panic.

  Standing over Maggie was a beautiful, tall blonde girl, with huge coffee-colored eyes and a smile that spread ear-to-ear. Her cheeks were sparkling and full, and her lips were a rosy pink, even though it didn’t look like she was wearing any makeup. She had broad shoulders and large breasts, with long, strong arms and legs. She was wearing a t-shirt with Joan Crawford on it, under a leather jacket. Giant black work boots were set over top of a pair of skinny jeans that showed off her curvy hips, giving her the look of an old-school 80s punk rocker. Maggie liked her immediately.

  “Well, hey girly! You must be… Magdalene? Rousseau?” she asked with her hand stretched out.

  Maggie sat up and took the girl’s hand in her own. “You can call me Maggie. Are you Clover Bloomwood? My roommate?”

  The girl laughed, a melodic, sparkling laugh that filled the room. “Maggie
it is! And Clover I am. My parents were hippy assholes. You can call me Clo. Clover. Whatever you want. And you are correct! We are roommates. This is your first year here, right?”

  Maggie crawled to her feet and brushed off her pants, though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like her pants had gotten dirty.

  “Yeah, just moved here from LA. I’m not used to… any of this. It’s cold. It’s REALLY cold.”

  Clover laughed again, and Maggie couldn’t help but notice that every time she laughed, it was as if she’d just heard the best joke in the world. Her laugh was kind and genuine, like nothing Maggie had ever heard.

  “It’s damn cold. Almost all of the time. But you learn to live for the summer, and the warm days. Even though they’re few and far between. So you should probably be heading off for your orientation crap, huh? Get-to-know-you games, and tours around campus, showing you where to eat. Word of advice… Don’t eat where they tell you and don’t make friends with any of the people you came in with. They’re all going to try and screw you over and you seem way too nice for that.”

  Maggie looked at Clover quizzically, which made Clover laugh again.

  “You’re all competing for the same spots in band, symphony, and jazz ensembles, so if you’re not competitive, you better learn how to be quickly. Being the best isn’t good enough at Willow Creek. You also have to be willing to beat someone over the head with that cello to get what you want.”

  Maggie sighed and flopped on to the bed, her glasses bouncing off her head. “I’m not competitive at all. There were no other cellists in my high school, so I just got every cello part by default. How the hell do I learn how to be competitive at eighteen?”

  Clover pulled off her coat and collapsed down on the bed next to her. Her arm brushed against Maggie’s, and she felt her skin prickle with a feeling that was new, but she brushed it off as nerves.

  “Don’t ask me. I’m an actor. I’d cut a bitch for an ensemble role in an off-Broadway musical. And for the record, baby cakes, this is my bed. You get the loft.”

  Maggie chuckled. Of course she got the loft. She was the freshman. But it didn’t really matter. Both beds looked like they had three inches of memory foam under Egyptian cotton sheets. It would be worth climbing a ladder to sleep in that bed.

  “No problem! Hey, question. I already checked in and junk. The school knows I’m here. Any chance I could skip orientation and you could just show me around?”

  Clover sat up and leaned back on her elbows. “I mean, your advisor will be pissed, but I can probably get you out of it. I know the head of the music department pretty well. We’re in the same kickboxing class.”

  “Awesome! So where to first?”

  Clover pulled her phone out of the pocket of her jeans to check the time. She grumbled and tucked it in to her coat.

  “I have to stop by my girlfriend’s apartment first. She’s out of town on business and I have to feed her cat.”

  Maggie nodded, but she was briefly bummed. She had been looking forward to hanging out with Clover; making a friend on her first day wasn’t something she’d expected to do, as she wasn’t fabulous at making friends. She’d been really shy her entire life, and had only made a few friends in high school, most of who were quiet-types like her. There was something about Clover that gave her the desire to be brave.

  Clover jumped off the bed and grabbed her jacket.

  “Do you want to come with me? She lives downtown, so you’ll get to see what Winona looks like, as exciting as it is. Which isn’t very, so fair warning.”

  Maggie smiled, more excited than she cared to admit. One of the things she’d been most scared of when she moved across the country to go to school was living with a person she didn’t know. But Clover was amazing, and she couldn’t wait to hang out with her.

  “I’d love to go with you! I love cats. And I’d love to see Winona.” Maggie winced, aware she was saying “love” way too much. Clover smiled at her, her cheeks glowing and her eyes sparkling.

  “I wouldn’t get too psyched up. It’s not that great. And Kelby’s cat is a dick.”

  Maggie laughed, “That’s okay! I’d just rather not wander around in the cold with a bunch of people who only want to make me cry in the long run.”

  Clover smiled as she grabbed her keys, but she paused before she opened the door and turned around to look at Maggie, a serious expression clouding her normally cheery eyes.

  “You’re okay with the fact that I’m a lesbian, right? A lot of students here are pretty closed-minded, so I don’t make a big deal about it. But I don’t hide it either. Since we’re living together, I just thought you should know.”

  Maggie hesitated for a moment. She’d grown up in Los Angeles; she had gay family members, a third of the people in her high school had been LGBT, and she just assumed it would be the same coming to a performing arts college. Could that really not be the case?

  “My uncles are gay. And so is my best friend from high school. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re gay.”

  Clover smiled again, and tossed Maggie a heavier coat that she had hanging on a hook by the door.

  “Cool, cool. Now put on this coat until you get a heavier one of your own. You’re going to need something warmer if you plan on surviving a winter out here.”

  * * *

  Clover pulled her old Trans Am up outside of a building that looked like a converted mill. Maggie leaned over and peeked outside, as she took in the sight of it. It was slightly run down, but the snow-proof vines growing up the side of the building gave it a homey feeling. Clover pulled out the keys and turned to Maggie.

  “Are you sure you want to come up? I wasn’t kidding when I said that the cat is an asshole.”

  Maggie chuckled, “Nah, I like cats. Even jerk cats. I’ll come with you.”

  Clover shrugged, and gestured for Maggie to follow her. When they got inside the building, Maggie stopped and looked around, confused.

  “Where is the elevator?”

  Clover looked at her like there were spiders crawling out of her ears.

  “Girl, this is Winona. Most of these buildings are two-hundred years old, or more. Living downtown in converted loft space means giving up certain luxuries, like an elevator. Or air. Or not sharing your bedroom with a family of curious bats.”

  “So what floor does Kelby live on?”

  Clover looked up the stairwell. “Fourth floor! So I hope you have good calf muscles, baby cakes.”

  Maggie felt her stomach flip-flop a little when Clover referred to her by the nickname she’d already gotten used to, even though they’d only just met. Maggie couldn’t put a finger on what it was she was feeling when she stood close to Clover; she’d never been attracted to women before. But there was something about Clover that made all of her nerves tingle. She tried to shake it off though; they were on their way to Clover’s girlfriend’s apartment.

  Stop it, dumbass. It’s your first day here. Don’t cock it up with your only friend, Maggie thought bitterly. She hated when her nerves got the better of her.

  When they made it to the fourth floor of the building, there was only one door right at the top of the stairs, making it clear that the whole top floor belonged to Kelby. Maggie raised an eyebrow at Clover, who shrugged again.

  “She’s a buyer for a big department store in Manhattan, and does pretty well for herself. I’m not even a hundred percent on why she moved to Winona, to be honest, other than to get out of the city. But she travels a lot, so I keep an eye on Victor.”

  “Victor?”

  “It’s a soap opera thing. Kelby loves soaps. Again, I don’t ask.”

  Maggie smiled as Clover opened the door and a fluffy white cat darted across the floor in front of them. Maggie’s mouth dropped opened at the sight of the loft, which was bigger than her parents’ house. A spiral staircase led to a second-floor open plan bedroom, but the downstairs was massive, and beautifully decorated, with giant sculptures and elegant carpets. Maggie walked up to one of the
more feminine sculptures, which looked like a woman holding a flower near her face. She let her hand drift down the cool marble, and found herself amazed.

  “This is so beautiful. Did Kelby make this?”

  Clover wandered over, stood next to Maggie, and watched her, fascinated. There was something so delicate about Maggie, so new. Inwardly, she gave herself a pop on the back of the head.

  We don’t chase straight girls, Clo. We don’t chase straight girls, Clover chastised herself.

  “I did, actually. Sculpting is how I got into Willow Creek, but they let me change majors when I jacked up my wrist last year. It was too hard for me to keep carving. I miss it sometimes.”