Chapter 45: Flux

I roll out of bed the next day. Sit there on the edge of the bed, and blink. I had the weirdest dream. We were at the Christmas party, and there were dozens of little blonde girls, and we were supposed to take care of them. So Shane and I were herding them, like sheep, with these sticky crook things that shepherds hold...

And then Shane was one of the sheep and she went away. I kept glimpsing her on higher and higher ground, but I could never get to her.

Fuckin’ weird.

I sit there and let the mantle of dream-weirdness slowly fall away. Remember Doug, the Christmas party. Shane.

Last night she seemed like she couldn’t get away from me quickly enough. Her eyes were so strange when she walked in. Bizarre light in them when she saw me holding Lily. I could take a thousand years and never decipher that complicated and secret gaze.

In my dream, Lily had the body of a baby but the head of a two or three year old. I held her and she chattered away.

I rub sleep out of my eyes. “Weird shit,” I mutter, and get up.

.

In the late afternoon, Shane calls. “I wanna see you,” she says, dead serious.

Panic shoots through me. “Okay. Is something wrong?”

“No.” She chuckles, deep and reassuring. It sounds like the feel of sunlight, warming. “No, not at all. Can’t I spend time with my girl?”

I grin. “Hmm, lemme think about it.”

“D...”

“Hmm, thinking here.”

“Yeah, yeah, makin’ me work for it, right.” I can hear her smile, the beauty of her impish grin.

“Work for what? What did you have in mind?”

Silence. My heart actually seems to be waiting to beat. What will she say?

“I want to kiss you.”

Delight rockets through my body.

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. You got me from zero to sixty here, the way you said that.”

“Really?” She says, intrigued. We’ve never done this phone thing before. I think with that honey velvet cocoa voice of hers it might be dangerous.

“Yeah. I really wanna kiss you too.”

“Hmm. I’m almost hoping my four o’ clock won’t show, even though he tends to give crazy tips.”

“Wow. You could get that changed into ones and we could do a little re-enactment of Indecent Proposal.”

“Could. Or...”

“Or what,” I say, trying to find my sexiest voice.

“Or...” I can envision her looking around, making sure no one can hear her. “...I could lay you down and fuck you really slow.” She says the word “fuck” as if she’s doing it right now.

The sound that comes out of my throat is sort of like a squeak.

She laughs softly. “Aww! Ha haa! You like that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Fuck, yeah.”

“Oh, D, you need to stop with the fuck yeahs right now, or I’ll never make it home in one piece.”

“Oh. So when I say... ‘fuck yeah,’ it does something for you?”

“You know it does.” I can hear her smile.

“I like the idea of doing something to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like the thought of getting you all worked up, or maybe flustered, when you’re at work. I can picture you now. I bet you’re at the front counter, slouching away.”

The second of silence tells me I’m right.

“Okay, D, that’s creepy.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. “And I bet you’re bent over just slightly, making your hot little ass look so good, and I could come right up behind you...” She gasps, ever so slightly, into the phone. “And I could put my hands on your ass, on your waist, reach around to the front, and I bet you’re wearing those slutty little low-rise jeans of yours, since it’s so hot today, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, that’s correct.” I feel the rich timbre of her voice deep in my clit.

“Bye,” she suddenly says, in an altogether different voice, to someone else. “It looks great. Merry Christmas to you too.” A pause, and then she’s back to her bedroom voice, murmuring to just me. “Sorry.”

“Hmm, I bet they don’t know you’re on the phone with your girlfriend.”

“Guess not.”

“And I bet they don’t know your dirty mind is thinking about me putting my hands down the front of your jeans.”

“Ohhh... I guess not.”

“Tell me, Hottie, who else is there?”

“Just John.”

“And where’s he at?”

“He’s in the back office now.”

“Ah, so you can say anything you want to say to me right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. So... tell me, what do you want to do to me?”

"D...” She manages to sound aroused and whiny all at once.

“Tell me, Hottie,” I demand. She groans at the authority in my voice, and warm power floods me. Restless. I need to be moving. I stand up and walk to the kitchen.

I hear her exhale, then a pause. She speaks, very quietly. “I wanna taste you.”

I picture her, clear as day, turning toward the wall to contain her sentiment, keep it contained. Slouching, a wicked smile on her face. I feel a bit dizzy. I pause with my hand on the refrigerator door.

“That can be arranged.” I pour a glass of iced tea and move to the living room. I sink to the couch and take a sip.

“D...”

“Yeah?” I say, feeling like a resplendent goddess.

“You’re killing me.”

“And you love it.”

I hear the deflating hiss of her breath. She can’t deny it. “Where are you?”

“The couch.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just sitting here. What do you want me to do?”

A dangerous, deep laugh. I feel the sound hit my ear, burn and vibrate all the way to my clit.

“What do you wanna do?”

Dammit, Shane. Why can’t you commit to anything?

“I want to fuck you.”

“Hmm, fuck me how?”

“Hmm... decisions, decisions...” I take a sip of my tea and think. “I think... I’d like to have you spread out on my bed...”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Spread out across my bed, and I’d tease you for hours, until you had that wild pleading look in your eyes.”

“Oooh,” she says, mirth there in her voice. I can practically see her blush.

“Yeah. I’d tease you for hours-“

She laughs. It sounds like a “ha ha,” very wry. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do.” I say, mustering all of my authority. “And I’d have you right where you wanted to be, too, even if you’d never admit it.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, dubiously.

“Yep. You’d be trying to get on the top, trying to roll me over in that oh-so-subtle way you have... but then I’d latch on to your clit with my lips, and suck you.”

I’m rewarded with a slow, sharp inhalation. Then silence. What is she thinking? Am I pushing too far?

“Yeah?” she finally says.

“Yeah. You like it when I do that, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“You know what, Shane? It doesn’t matter if you tell me the truth. I know you love it because I can feel your clit swell up in my mouth.”

A harsh breath sound comes through the phone, nothing more.

“I do, and you know what else, when I suck your clit that way, that’s when you start to buck your hips up at me, and if I do it for more than a few seconds your legs start to spasm, and you get this gorgeous red blush all over your head and chest...”

“Oh my god,” I hear her whisper.

My hand is in my panties. Softness, wet skin sliding on wet skin. I slip my finger between my slick lips, idly stroke the line where they meet. Breathe out hot and fast and know that she can hear it.

“You totally do. You look so beautiful when you let go like that, your face is flushed and your eyes are dazed and you look... you look a little lost. Like you don’t know where to go with that desire of yours... And I get this instinct, I want to save you, like you’re a little girl or something.”

Silence. My finger slides in a slow circle around my clit.

“Hottie?”

“I’m here.”

More silence. Oh shit.

“And then I decide I’m going to save you, I’ll take you over the edge, take you to that place where your mind is empty of thought, where you just feel. Curl my fingers up inside you, or suck you harder, or play with your ass.. Or all of the above...”

“D...” She sounds admonishing.

“What?” I whisper.

“You’re killing me.”

“No I’m not,” I smile, holding the cordless to my shoulder and reaching a second hand into my panties. “I’m entertaining you.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, got that right.”

“Oh, so I’m not boring you after all?”

“No.”

“Am I getting to you?”

“D... fuck!”

“Am I getting to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? You getting wet for me?”

A noise comes through the phone, half groan, half moan.

“Tell me. I’ll know if you lie.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fucking wet for you, allright!” She is hissing through the phone, and I grin.

“That makes me really wet. I know because I’m touching myself, and it’s slippery everywhere.”

I hear her sigh.

“Do you feel it soaking into your underwear, into your jeans? Have you touched yourself?”

“No, I’m at work!”

“Then how do you know you’re getting wet?”

Breath, exasperated, harsh, aroused.

“Shane?”

“Because I feel it, alright?”

“Feel it where?”

Another breath. I wonder if I’m pushing her too far, but something tells me she likes it.

“I can feel it coming out of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Like that little trickle?”

“Yeah. And it’s hot, like a sauna. I can feel the heat.”

My delighted moan fills the living room. In the breath of that sound, all the power shifts to her.

There is silence on the phone. I’m moving my fingers over and over my slippery clit and the friction is unbearable. “I need you,” I whisper. I know she can hear the excited rush of my breath, and that excites me more.

“D, what the hell are you doing?”

“Rubbing my clit.” My voice sounds like I’m in pain, like torture.

“Fuck.”

“I need you...” The whispery sound of my own voice is turning me on more. “Hmm, god, I need you here to touch me.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing that.”

“No? Listen.” I hold the phone down to where she can hear, with my other hand plunge my fingers inside me, pull them out with a wet squelching sound.

I grin and raise the phone to my ear. “Now do you believe me?”

“Jesus... fucking... fuck! Darah!”

“Am I bothering you?” I ask innocently.

“Fuck. I’m about ready to come.”

I feel my whole cunt clench in response.

“You should. Hey, John’s in the back room, you’re behind the counter, no one can see what’s going on from the street...”

“No.”

“Well maybe I’ll just get myself off then.” I splay my fingers wide over my soft shaven pussy, then home in on my clit. The drag of my finger on the wet skin is maddening, and I’m moaning.

“Oh my god, D.”

“You want me to do it?”

“Jesus...”

“Do you wanna hear me come?”

“I want you to save it for me.”

I laugh. “You talk like there’s a finite amount of sex to go around.”

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good.”

“Hmm. Yes, I wanna hear it.”

“Yeah? You want me to come for you, right here, and right now?”

“Yeah.” Is it just me or does her breathing seem short and heavy? “Do it.”

I moan. “Hmm... I’m rubbing my clit. Shane... feels so good. I want you so much here fucking me...”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m so close.”

“Do it.”

“Oh, I am, Oh god, you got me so excited.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

I don’t have the cognitive function to refute that. My whole sex has swollen and bloomed open, I’m riding my clit with a single finger now, driving closer and closer to orgasm.

The friction is catching and getting ready to explode. I almost drop the cordless and shrug it back up to my ear at the last minute. My fingers are moving fast.

“D?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh shit, you sound so hot.”

“I am hot. I’m ready to explode. Shane...”

“Yeah?”

“I need you here to fuck me soon...” She hisses through the phone. She likes it. She’s wet, oh god. It’s building. I’m losing myself in it. “I need to come!”

“Go ahead,” I can hear her smile.

“You want me to?”

“Yes!”

“Really?” My fingers are moving so fast. I feel it.

“Fuck yes, Darah, do it.”

“I’m gonna...” Right on the edge now. “Fuck! Oh fuck, I’m coming so hard! Shane!”

I explode and recline back on the couch, feeling the waves bouncing through me, feel the rhythms lessen and slow.

Her voice. “Babe?”

“Hummh.”

“D?”

“Hmmm?”

“That was amazing.”

“Hhmm. Who you tellin’?” My fingers are so wet. My breath, small muscles in my thighs and sex, are slowing.

“D?”

“Yeah?”

“My client just walked in.”

“Oh.”

She lowers her voice so much I can barely hear it. “The fucking instant I get there, you hear me?”

“I’ll be waiting. Just think about me sucking your clit.” And I hang up, with a grin.

.

I’m just getting out of the shower when a hand closes over my mouth and I’m shoved against the bathroom wall.

I never panic; I always know it’s her, even before I feel the familiar warm stroke of her hand over my breast.

I turn and see her eyes, warm and intense, on mine. It feels a bit like being impaled on something. Against my back, I feel the wall, sweating with condensation from my shower. Against my front, her leg, encased in jeans. She’s wearing a sage-colored tee-shirt and I want to rip it off.

Her hand lingers to roughly grab my breast, then she kisses me so hard it almost hurts. I feel dumb and dazzled by the bliss pooling in me. I kiss her just as hard. My nipple is trapped between two of her fingers; she squeezes, watching my eyes until pleasure-pain registers.

I exhale and shudder, but otherwise don’t move. She’s never been so rough before. I didn’t think she’d want to.

Until now, I didn’t realize how much I want to be touched like this.

“Get in the bedroom,” she says, yanking my arm, hard. She pushes me in front of her, then out the door and down the hall. I stop short of the bed, turn and face her. I’m already halfway to coming.

She doesn’t address my failure to get down on the bed, just kisses me hard. We kiss so vigorously that when we part, we’re breathless.

I lick my bottom lip, sort of stunned with lust. Then I reach for her. But she shoves me hard, against the bed. There’s this delightful look in her eye. Some of it’s playful, but mostly it’s very serious.

I wriggle backwards on the bed, until I’m right in the middle of it. I watch her. She watches me but she doesn’t move. I don’t know what she’s planning. All I know that this is the opposite of what I did to her.

I can feel the tension in my bent legs, feel the way my back and ankles support their weight and the fabric of the blanket under me. My nipples are knot-tight and she is looking all over me.

Then I’m moving. I spread my legs, slowly. My hand is moving down. For the second time today, I graze my fingers gently over my delicate skin. I stare at her. Doing it while she watches me feels like a second touch, even more intimate. I slip my fingers inside. I feel it, and lust catches in me like a flame.

She leans over, takes my hands, and spreads them out. She is so close I can feel her breath on my face. “You were really bad today.”

“And I’m gonna be really bad again tonight.” I say. I always like the idea of being a bottom, but somehow these sassy retorts keep popping out of my mouth.

“You think so, huh?” I search her eyes for a sign of amusement, find them more serious than before.

“That’s my plan,” I say. My arms are pinned wide but my legs are free. I hook my leg around her ass and pull it close to me. I can hear her breath hiss out as she struggles to remain balanced.

“Yeah, well I’m not sure I like your plan,” she says. Still holding me, she moves her head to my hand, the hand that was just inside me. She touches those two fingers with her lips, slowly, then suckles them into her hot slick mouth.

I cry out, a pained sigh-whimper-moan. Again, she has all the power.

She sucks on my fingers for a long time. I feel myself grow warm, and wet for the second time today. It feels so good. Her humid mouth, the cool-hot breath. She presses a kiss to my palm, and I caress her face. She bites my wrist until I squeak. Her hand is moving all over my breasts, hard. She bites my neck until I turn for more. I’m spread out on my bed, aching for more. “Shane...” I’m begging. I don’t know what for.

She surrounds my nipple with her lips, waiting until I meet her eyes. Then she sucks it into her mouth, deeply. Her hand is moving down to my cunt. She shoves two fingers inside me, wriggles them around, cruelly. I’m barely used to the intrusion when she’s sucking my nipple, hard, between her teeth.

Any other woman would want to get off first, but I knew Shane would want to do exactly this. She won’t rest until I’ve come at least once. And then I’ll get to do my favorite thing. Taste her.

“What’s wrong, Shane, did I get you too worked up?”

She just looks at me. You know exactly what you did, she’s thinking. She moves to my other nipple, bites it long enough that the pain careens past bliss and for just a second into real pain.

She looks away, then pulls her fingers out of me. I feel them resting, slick and wet on my hip, as she moves up again. She nips the skin above my heart, where the mark won’t show, then keeps moving. Kiss me, I think. Please, fucking kiss me.

She does. She’s let go of my arms, so I reach up to tangle my fingers in her hair, pull her close by the neck into me. What does she have in mind? I don’t care what it is, as long as she keeps kissing me. If she stops, I’ll cry.

She kisses and kisses me, delicate dragging kisses alternating with hard desperate ones where she pulls me closer to her by threading her fingers in my hair and pulling. She kisses me until I feel I’m going insane.

“Shane.”

“What?”

“Take your clothes off. Please.”

She stares at me for a minute, beautiful eyes. Very serious. Then she’s reaching to peel her shirt off. I help her. A reach to pull that shirt off becomes an excuse to touch her skin. All that warm, soft, grass-smelling, sweet skin. She slides out of her jeans. Then I can feel her entire body pressed against mine. It feels like something’s back to normal, a natural state. “I love you,” I whisper in her ear.

She looks in my eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. She pulls one of my legs so that it’s bent at the knee, then the other. I’m spread, as if to receive her. All open for her. And then she begins to press against me. There is a wet noise, of her cunt against my cunt. She’s positively soaking. I gasp at the contact.

“You feel what you did to me?” She says, and then she looks down, as if saying this is too intimate for her.

She and I are grinding in perfect rhythm. “I feel it,” I whisper. “Oh my god, you feel so good.” I can smell her, the sweet sour funk of being so wet and encased in jeans all day. I can hardly wait to taste that from its source.

She’s staring at me, focused so intently that it almost looks like anger. She’s moving more sharply now, insistent little thrusts, and I can feel her clit reaching out, sliding over mine. Desire rises a notch in me, but I realize she’s much more close than I am. Her face, her shoulders and chest are turning pink.

This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her eyes, becoming glazed and soft with the bliss of impending orgasm, her mouth, lips parted with the effort of keeping up with her breath. I feel spread so wide, ready to catch her when she falls.

“Oh... Fuck me. Do it.”

No response. Just a blink of her eyes. She’s pushing faster though. So am I. I can’t take my eyes off her... milk white shoulders, strong arms planted on either side of me. The messily wet intersection of our sexes, her face... Oh, god, she’s just grinding into me, and it feels so good.

She makes a truncated gasp, and I see her gorgeous eyes look as though they are in pain, wincing hard, so beautiful! And she’s pushing against me relentlessly, the sound of her breath harsh and rhythmic. Her lips curl into a snarl, and her eyes roll back, and I can feel a rush of wetness. Her shaking where our bodies meet.

“Ahh!” The noise ends in a whimper. She hovers there for a second, arched back, grinding herself forward, before letting herself fall on me.

“That was so beautiful,” I whisper, touching her hair. I push the hair back from her forehead, and it’s wet at her hairline. I like it when she lays on me like this, her weight limp, head resting on my belly.

She looks up at me, that same intense look. Her hand moves slowly between my legs, fingers dipping inside me. They flicker there, and she moves her thumb on my clit. Her eyes search for something in mine. She presses her lips to my thigh, and I’m ready to come. I hiss and churn and press up mindlessly against her. Still I feel her watching me with those serious, intense eyes.

“Shane!” I can’t spread my legs far enough. She smiles and leans forward to lap at me, and I just explode in her mouth. The world outside my eyelids, of her skin and my skin, ceases to exist.

.

We lay there for long minutes, touching, breathing. Finally I have to stop. “I have to pee. And I’m gonna get a drink. You wanna beer or something?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” I kiss her damp forehead, and smile.

“There’s something for you on the kitchen counter,” she says. Her smile warms me from the inside out.

“Okay.”

I have her beer and my water in my hand when I notice the flower on the kitchen counter. A red rose.

I bite my lip and look at it and bite back happy tears. I put down our drinks, take the time to slice the woody stem diagonally, and then put it into a bud vase with water. I bring it upstairs, so it can be in the room we’re in when we make love.

She is resting with her eyes closed, one of my pillows shoved under her head. I gently nudge her temple with the cool beer bottle, and she opens her eyes.

“You brought me a flower,” I say, wonder in my voice.

“Yep,” she says, bringing her beer to her mouth.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” I set the flower on the nightstand. “What did you do wrong?” I joke. I drink from my water glass until it’s almost all gone.

Only when I set it down on the night stand do I notice that she’s putting on jeans, and fumbling with her tee shirt.

“Shane? I’m sorry, that came out wrong, don’t go-"

“I need a smoke.”

She’s out the door, but not before I catch a glimpse of her eyes. They’re glassy with tears, and just ready to overflow.

Aw, fuck. Why do I always mess stuff up?