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FLESH

and

BOnE

Acclaim for Ronica Black’s Fiction

Hearts Aflame

“Sleek storytelling and terrific characters are the backbone of

Ronica Black’s third and best novel, Hearts Aflame. Prepare to

hop on for an emotional ride with this thrilling story of love in

the outback.”— Lambda Book Report

“Hearts Aflame takes the reader on the rough and tumble ride…

The twists and turns of the plot engage the reader all the way to

the satisfying conclusion.”— Just About Write

In Too Deep

“In Too Deep, by newcomer Ronica Black, is emotional, hot,

gripping, raw, and a real turn-on from start to finish, with

characters you will fall in love with, root for, and never forget.

A truly five star novel, you will not want to miss In Too Deep

and will look forward to Black’s next novel, Wild Abandon.”

— Midwest Book Review

“Ronica Black’s debut novel In Too Deep has everything from

nonstop action and intriguing well-developed characters to steamy

erotic love scenes. From the opening scenes where Black plunges

the reader headfirst into the story to the explosive unexpected

ending, In Too Deep has what it takes to rise to the top. Black has

a winner with In Too Deep, one that will keep the reader turning

the pages until the very last one.”— Independent Gay Writer

“…an exciting, page turning read, full of mystery, sex, and

suspense.”— MegaScene

“…a challenging murder mystery—sections of this mixed-

genre novel are hot, hot, hot. Black juggles the assorted

elements of her first book with assured pacing and estimable

panache.”— Q Syndicate

“Black’s characterization is skillful, and the sexual chemistry

surrounding the three major characters is palpable and definitely

hot-hot-hot…if you’re looking for a solid read with ample

amounts of eroticism and a red herring or two you’re sure to find

In Too Deep a satisfying read.”— L Word Literature

Wild Abandon

“Black is a master at teasing the reader with her use of domination

and desire. Black’s first novel, In Too Deep, was a finalist for

a 2005 Lammy…With Wild Abandon, the author continues her

winning ways, writing like a seasoned pro. This is one romance I

will not soon forget.”— Just About Write

“If you enjoy complex characters and passionate sex scenes,

you’ll love Wild Abandon.”— MegaScene

By the Author

In Too Deep

Deeper

Wild Abandon

Hearts Aflame

Flesh and Bone

Visit us at www.boldstrokesbooks.com

FLESH

and

BOnE

by

Ronica Black

2009

Flesh and bone

© 2009 By Ronica Black. all Rights ReseRved.

isBn 13: 978-1-60282-093-7e

This Aeros ebook is Published by

bold sTrokes books, inc.,

P.o. box 249

VAlley FAlls, ny 12185

FirsT ediTion: MAy 2009

This is A Work oF FicTion. nAMes, chArAcTers, PlAces, And

incidenTs Are The ProducT oF The AuThor’s iMAGinATion or

Are used FicTiTiously. Any reseMblAnce To AcTuAl Persons,

liVinG or deAd, business esTAblishMenTs, eVenTs, or locAles

is enTirely coincidenTAl.

This book, or PArTs ThereoF, MAy noT be reProduced in Any

ForM WiThouT PerMission.

cRedits

ProducTion desiGn: sTAciA seAMAn

coVer iMAGe by lindA scoTT And sTePhAnie yorque

coVer GrAPhic by bold sTrokes books GrAPhics

Acknowledgments

My heartfelt thanks to my beta readers, Lori, Jenny, Eva, and

Kathi Isserman. Thanks so much for your advice and support.

My thanks to my editor Cindy Cresap. It was a pleasure. Special

thanks to photographer Linda Scott, cover model Stephanie K.

Yorque, and graphic designer Lee Ligon for an incredible cover.

And to Radclyffe, for allowing me to have way more fun than I

should.

Dedication

We all have different definitions of love, eroticism, beauty,

etc. The stories in this book represent mine, but many can be

switched around to fit one’s own definitions.

This book is dedicated to the process of that defining…

Oh, what a wonderful ride.

For the heart is an organ of fire.

— The English Patient

cOntEntS

Introduction

1

F is for Fantasy

3

L is for Love

15

E is for Erotic

31

S is for Sensual

45

H is for Higher

71

A is for Animal

83

N is for Never

95

D is for Daring

109

B is for Beautiful

129

O is for Orgasm

143

N is for Naughty

163

E is for Everlasting

177

intROductiOn

F is for Fantasy

l is for Love

e is for Erotic

s is for Sensual

h is for Higher

A is for Animal

n is for Never

d is for Daring

B is for Beautiful

o is for Orgasm

n is for Naughty

e is for Everlasting

Flesh and Bone. What every woman is made of. Beautiful,

daring, naughty, sensual. She has a fantasy, she wants to go higher,

she searches for her own definition of love. She never says never,

has her first orgasm, yearns for the everlasting. This is woman.

You, me, the girl next door. We are all flesh and bone.

An eclectic collection of lesbian erotica, the stories in Flesh

and Bone are as individual as every woman. From the sweetest

petals of romance to the thorny edges of desire, our stories are as

individual as we are. Yet one theme remains constant and keeps

us intertwined: we are all Flesh and Bone.

• 1 •

• 2 •

FLESH and BOnE

F iS FOR FantaSy

She’s on her way home and I’m ready but nervous.

I wait by the door, fists opening and closing as if

I’m waiting for the director to yell “action.” My heart thuds, but

so does my clitoris, the small cock in my jeans pressing against

it. Both cause my hands and knees to tremble.

I’m trying to shake the jitters when I hear her car and peer out

the window. She climbs out, slings her purse onto her shoulder,

and heads for the stairs. Her heels click-clack and echo as she

makes her way up. My heart seems to pump in tune with her

steps.Up and up she comes, like she’s climbing to meet me for the

very first time. I can remember it like it was yesterday, and I can

recall that I was just as nervous.

I wait behind the door. Her footfalls stop and I can hear her

digging around in her purse. She keeps the majority of her keys

on a separate ring from her thick single car key. I know this about

her and it does something strange to me. The familiarity comforts

me, but knowing what it is I’m about to do to her both frightens

and excites me.

The key slides into the dead bolt, and my heart lodges in my

throat. The world around me slows, and I can envision the metal

grinding of the key, the spark it creates as it meets and slides into

its unique crevice. There’s a heavy click, and my heart drops back

into my chest again, the world rushing back in normal speed.

• 3 •

ROnica BLack

The knob turns and the door opens.

This is it. Now or never, now or never.

She steps inside and quickly I push the door closed and cover

her mouth with my right hand.

Her muffled cry is one of shock and surprise, and I feel her

body immediately tense. Her back is to me so I cannot see her

face. I have no idea if she scared or intrigued.

“Don’t move.” My throat sounds raw and I can’t believe I’m

doing this. Can’t believe it’s happening.

She’s silent for a moment, and all I can hear are my rapid

breathing and the insane pounding of my heart. But then a long,

single second later, she moans and it’s long and deep and full of

recognition and approval.

She knows. Oh God, yes, she knows. And she wants it.

I close my eyes, suddenly overcome with lust. My teeth find

her earlobe, and the rose and sandalwood scent of her perfume

shoots through my body. She thrusts her ass against my crotch and

my eyes roll back into my head, overloaded with desire.

I remove my hand from her mouth as her purse and keys

crash to the floor. She tries to turn to face me, but I don’t let her,

pressing her against the door instead. She exhales, misting the

door, one cheek pressed just below the peephole.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asks.

I know what I’m supposed to say, but I find myself speaking

with my body instead, forcing it full on against her. I lick her ear,

around the outside to the inside. She reacts in an instant, like a

bolt of lightning just shot up her spine.

The intensity, the raw desire, the quickness of our breathing,

I’m into it now. Diving deeper and deeper. The words come

surprisingly easy and they teeter in my mouth, balancing on the

jagged cliffs of desire.

“I’m going to fuck you hard and fast. I’m going to fuck you

hard and slow. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been

fucked before.”

• 4 •

FLESH and BOnE

Her breath hitches in her throat.

“Did you hear me?” Yes, I’m feeling it now. Demanding it.

It’s overwhelming.

She nods.

My hand trails down over her ass where I slip in beneath the

skirt. Her cheeks are fleshy, yet firm and full. I smooth along the

panties, pressing the fabric into her crack, teasing, testing. She

wants me there, beckons me with her heat and her thrusts into my

hand. But instead I move lower, going down to where her warm

thigh muscles tremble.

“Don’t move,” I whisper. This fantasy, I realize, might as

well have been mine.

The realization only stokes my inner fire more, to the point

where if I don’t escape the heat, I will burn. Hurriedly, I shove

her skirt up. Her round ass is covered by lacy white boy short

panties and accompanied by a white garter leading down to her

sheer hose.

She has worn this just for me. Hoping that today would be

the day.

My want for her suddenly becomes an ache. It hurts. It burns.

It yearns.

I go to my knees and trail my tongue where my fingers have

been, starting with her outer thigh and up to the outer edge of her

panties. I kiss and nibble a bit and then push my tongue under the

lace. She jerks and cries yes. But I leave her wanting and then do

the same to the inner thigh, my tongue going up and pushing into

the crotch of her panties.

She cries again and she’s pushing herself back into my face.

She’s warm and moist, and I’m careful not to touch her most

sensitive flesh, rimming the outside again and again.

She softly moans, trying to move. I hold her tight and stand.

Again, I go to her ear and suck her lobe, holding it firmly between

my teeth.

“Do you want it?” I ask. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

• 5 •

ROnica BLack

I flatten my palm firmly into her back and lick her ear again

slowly, from the outside in.

“Say it,” I demand. Oh, I know my lines well and I’m

beginning to love the way they sound.

She mumbles in response, but I can’t understand her. Instead

of asking again, I unbutton my fly and urge the head of the cock

against her, rubbing it in the crotch of her panties. Her cry is soft

but sudden, and I press the head in further, giving her a good,

long feel of what’s to come. She moans and pushes into me, her

palms on the door. I can feel the heat from her flesh against my

fingertips as I tease her.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

I hear her breath hitch as she speaks.

“I want it. I want you. Oh God, I want it so bad.”

Her words are searing hot swords. They fly into my ears and

stab my brain. I feel dizzy and I hold her tightly as the cotton in

my head begins to pound. It’s different from the thud of my heart.

It’s heavy and foggy and charged with electricity, urging me on.

My fingers find her panties. Lace. Rough yet soft. Up and

under I go to both cheeks, full of thick muscle and warm blood. I

massage, squeezing and rubbing. And a strange noise arises from

my throat.

Guttural want.

I tug down her panties. Nearly tear them in two.

A strange noise arises from her throat.

Guttural need.

Panties kicked aside, I hold her hips and watch her, cheek

still pressed to the door. Her eyes are closed, her brow tense. Her

coral lips are slightly parted, moist breath clouding the wood of

the door. I lean into her, moving her thick dark hair from her neck.

I kiss her there softly and allow her heated perfume to permeate

my mind. It goes straight to my brain, then to my heart; in a

lightning-quick flash, it’s at my aching flesh.

I feel her heart beat, feel her breathing. My hands go down

• 6 •

FLESH and BOnE

and lift her ass cheeks. I slap them and she jerks, but then groans

in pleasure. My hands go lower to her inner thighs where I urge

her legs further apart. She complies quickly and I go down to my

knees again. My tongue finds her hurriedly, licking up and down

her thighs, up to her ass and back down again. Then up into her

crotch where I rim her smooth, dripping lips. She bucks into me,

voice crying softly. She’s pleading. Begging. She’s ready.

Standing, I slip two fingertips just inside her lips and she’s

hot and thick and slick. My eyes threaten to once again roll back

into my head. She forces herself backward, trying to take in my

fingers. I hold her still while I ready the cock, covering it in her

slickness, stroking it up and down.

I’m hot and I’m long and I’m hard. My face burns with

heat.I lead the head to her lips and move it around, giving her

another feel.

She says things I’ve never heard her say before. In a voice

that sounds heavy and strained. “Please, now, I’ll do anything,

hurry, now, fuck, I want it, I have to have it, fucking hurry, oh

God, fuck, please…” When her fist pounds the door, I do it.

I plunge into her.

Her cry is fervent.

And then there is silence.

Her breathing slows and her body feels tight like a stretched

bow.I stand very still, so turned on everything around us seems to

melt away. This is her first time, and I know I must go slowly.

Deliberately, I run my hands under her blouse, undo her bra,

and slowly and carefully I find her breasts. I tease them lightly

and pinch the nipples, savoring the creamy soft feel of them, the

slight weight of them in my hands. I whisper that I love her, and

when her breathing increases again, I move.

Hands back on her hips, I pull away slowly and then push

back into her. Her cry is blistering. I do it again. And again.

• 7 •

ROnica BLack

“Oh God,” she says. “It fucking feels—ah, it burns. Burns

so good.”

I keep going, in and then out, in and then out. Fucking her

long and slow.

“It’s filling me. So full, ah, so much.”

Her words and quick cries are music to my ears. And I keep

on, until her hips are bucking back against me and she’s panting

with pleas for more.

“You want it?” I ask.

She can barely speak. “Yeah—yeah—yes.”

I pump her harder and faster and ask if it feels good.

She can’t seem to reply with words anymore. Only guttural

groans.

I hear the smacking of the cock, the wet tightness of her

pussy. The base of the cock is slamming into me, faster and harder,

fucking my clit. Heat powerfully floods my face. I’m ready to go

over. To not only tumble along with the surge of Niagara Falls but

to actually leap off into it. And when she pushes back from the

door, bends further at the waist, and holds tight to the doorknob,

I dive headfirst into the crashing mist.

I come so hard my body seems to implode. My hands dig

into her sides, my hips thrusting as hard and as fast as they can. I

cry out, saying fa-uuck over and over again and she starts saying,

“Yeah, baby, give it to me.” She laughs a wicked deep laugh and

says it feels so fucking good until “Mmm, mmm, mmm” is all

she can manage.

I keep going, mind on overdrive, body ready to collapse.

Smack, smack, smack is all I hear.

She arches her back, offering more of herself to me. I take

it wholeheartedly and thrust into her. Her moans eventually form

one single word.

“Na-ow.”

And then she screams, and it sounds like it came up from her

fleshy core, through all the organs, into her chest, squeezed from

• 8 •

FLESH and BOnE

her lungs, and forced out from her throat. It is the most beautiful

sound I’ve ever heard and it seems to go on forever.

Teeth over my bottom lip, I keep pumping her. My own

grunts sound foreign and my knees are threatening to buckle. She

keeps coming. Long and deep and drawn out. One soul-bursting

cry after another.

When she stops I don’t notice at first. I’m caught up in my

own reality, white sparks of pleasure floating around my head.

She pulls herself up and leans against the door. I stop the thrusting

and lean into her. We’re both breathing hard. Her perfume seems

heavier and hot, sizzling off her skin. It makes me dizzy.

We remain still for a few moments. Then, remembering her

fantasy, I speak.

“Turn around.” I ease myself out of her and she turns to face

me. Her eyes are sparkling. The surface of a deep blue ocean lit

by the teasing caress of the sun, the sparkles moving with the

current, alive and alluring. Her cheeks are flushed, the skin of her

neck a smeared red. Her lips seem thicker, full of hungry blood.

I take them with my own and she proves hungrier than I

imagined.

I kiss her, using my tongue to explore hers. Her mouth is

hot, searing hot. And suddenly I need to feel her center. To see

if it too is hot and wanting to take me in. I reach down and soak

my fingers in her come. Slick and thick and heated. I find her clit

and frame it, squeezing the sides as I jerk her off. Up and down,

up and down.

She grips my hair and bites into my shoulder.

“Uh, uh, uh.”

Her clit grows, swells between my fingers. I move my hand

faster. Side to side. Vibrate her. She claws my back, my scalp,

and then leans completely into me as if she can no longer support

herself.

I tell her, “Yeah. Come again for me, baby. Come so I can

fuck you with my cock again.”

• 9 •

ROnica BLack

Her head jerks back, mouth angled up to the ceiling. She

comes in a brief cry, but her mouth remains open and silent as

her body takes the rest of it. I bite down on the pulsing part of

her neck, give her all I can. Her eyes are wide open, fixed on the

ceiling, her face crumpling in sheer ecstasy.

Then she collapses upon me, body limp like a snapped rope.

I hold her for a moment, kissing her neck, tasting her perfume

mixed with her sweat. Oh, what an elixir.

Her mouth finds my skin, timid at first but then bold as she

nibbles my neck. I so badly want to take her to bed, to lay her

down and kiss her all over. To spend the night worshipping her

with my tongue.

But the fantasy is not complete. And I know it’s time to finish

it. Bending at the knees, I lift her and carry her to the couch. She

giggles mischievously and I lay her down and stand over her. I

tear off my T-shirt and my breasts pucker from the cooler air. Her

eyes almost close as her pupils dilate with desire.

I know this look. Would kill for this look.

I move closer and clench my teeth with nerve. Finally, I say

it.

“Suck me.”

After a long, seductive look, she props up on an elbow and

grabs the cock. Her eyes remain locked with mine as she first

licks it up and down and then takes it in her mouth. I watch her

tongue; I watch her lips. My mouth begins to water. She’s sucking

me, swallowing me nearly whole. Her hand tugs on the shaft as

she sucks. Again the smack, smack, smack.

Each one hits me at my core. A flamethrower triggering off

my clit and firing into my body.

Oh God. Oh God, she’s really sucking me off.

I hold her head. The feel of her bobbing back and forth

intensifies the pleasure. She groans and closes her eyes. She

moves faster, takes me deeper.

Oh God, I’m close. I’m so close.

• 10 •

FLESH and BOnE

I pull her head back. Her lips are parted, her eyes an abyss

of sparkling blue.

I push her back and climb on. I reach to tear off her blouse.

She groans her approval and lifts her arms so I can tug off the

loose bra. Her breasts are cinnamon, centered in dark chocolate.

My mouth takes them hungrily, tugging and sucking and biting.

She calls out my name and arches herself into me.

I reach down for the cock. She starts to beg.

“Give it to me, give it to me.”

She spreads her legs and with the cock in my hand, I feel

her smooth, slick lips with my knuckles. Inward and upward I

plunge.

“Oh God!” she cries out.

I feel her hips move beneath me and I plunge again as she

claws my arms. She throws her head back in passion and I lick

the straining tendons of her neck and push in some more.

The leather of the couch creaks and squeaks. I fuck her, fuck

her good. And the fire in my own core burns hotter. My face

flushes again. I’m close.

Head spinning, I sit back on my knees and pull the cock

from her. Her eyes open in surprise and my hands go under her

ass to lift her hips. I find her opening and wait, placing the head

of the cock just inside. And then I plunge.

“Ah, ummm.” She watches me as I fuck her.

I’m guiding her hips, yanking her to me, thrusting into her.

The heat spreads from my face down to my bare chest. My

breasts sway as I move. My clit shoots fire into me with every

thrust.I’m close again. So close.

She begs for more, turning her head from side to side.

I go harder. I go faster.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

She moans.

I ask again. “Do you like me fucking you?”

• 11 •

ROnica BLack

She looks at me. “Yes. Yes, I like it.”

“I’m going to come.” I can’t help myself. The sound, the feel

of her under my hands, the pounding of my clit.

She throws her head back and lets out a high-pitched cry. I

spill over the edge and tumble down, down, down.

Our bodies keep going. Fucking involuntarily. Fucking for

sheer animal need.

We fuck we fuck we fuck.

And then we are still.

I lie on her. Breath ragged and coming quickly. Her skin is

moist, her chest rising and falling, hungry for air.

The fantasy has been played out.

The sweet, sweet fantasy.

She seems to know my thoughts because she stirs. She pushes

me back and I sit on my knees as she swings her leg around me

to stand.

“Was it everything you wanted?” I can’t help but ask, my

mind just as spent as my body.

A thorny look comes into her eyes. She picks up her panties

and comes back to me, pushing me onto my back.

“It was, yes. But now it’s my turn.”

“Your turn?”

She straddles me and carefully eases herself onto my cock.

Her eyes glaze over. At first with hesitant intensity and then with

incredible pleasure.

She leans forward, her face mere inches from mine.

“I’m going to have my way with you now.”

She trails her panties along my face, hanging them over my

mouth.

“Taste,” she says. “Taste me while I fuck you.”

She starts to move. Back and forth, to and fro. Her hand

kneads my breasts. Presses into me for support. She moves faster.

Her hips snapping.

She groans.

I reach for her breasts, massage them as she moves.

• 12 •

FLESH and BOnE

“There’s more to this fantasy?” I ask, the fire building again

as I catch the taste and scent of her on the delicate lace of the

panties.

“Oh, yes,” she says, stuffing them completely into my mouth

as she quickens her hips. Her eyes flash with playful danger.

“There’s a whole lot more to this fantasy.”

• 13 •

• 14 •

FLESH and BOnE

L iS FOR LOvE

It started off simple enough. A cold, wind-driven night. The

kind that makes you pull tighter on your already buttoned

wool coat and hunker down against the curt, biting wind.

Gina Gordon was heading to the library for her Wednesday

night scheduled reading. She was late and cursing up a storm,

hands shoved into her coat pocket. Crossing the wet pavement,

she hurriedly flung out her hand for the door and her keys came

along for the ride, falling to the ground .

Mumbling another series of curse words, she bent and

scooped up the keys. At that very moment, the door opened from

the inside, knocking Gina back on her behind so forcefully that

she bit her tongue.

“Ow, oh God,” she said as she fingered her mouth. Her head

spun and her tailbone seemed to have bitten into the ground.

Someone moved toward her, their colors trailing like a

smeared painting or a fast-moving object. Gina blinked, but she

had trouble focusing.

“I’m so sorry. Oh, shit. What did I do?”

The voice sounded familiar. Gina blinked again and took the

offered hand. She stood on unsteady feet and allowed her vision

to settle.

Melanie Macbeth stared back at her.

One doesn’t forget a name like Melanie Macbeth.

• 15 •

ROnica BLack

Macbeth was Gina’s favorite Shakespearean play.

And Melanie, lately, was quickly becoming another one of

her favorite things.

Gina swayed. Or did she swoon? She wasn’t sure.

Melanie was talking, but Gina couldn’t hear. She often had

this problem with Melanie Macbeth.

“Are you okay? Gina?”

Melanie’s hand was insanely warm when it touched Gina’s

cheek. And the world seemed to rush around them, a record

player on high speed.

“Yeah, I’m…” Normally she would’ve had something

witty and clever to say. But the hand radiated and her tongue

throbbed.

“Ow.” Gina felt the wound and flinched. Blood quickly

flooded her mouth, and she turned her head just as quickly to

cough.

“Oh my God.” Melanie bent down with her.

Gina, burning with more embarrassment than pain, tried to

speak. “Get back. Don’t wanna get blood on you.” Only it came

out sounding like her mouth was full of cotton. She coughed

some more. Her face burned hotter. It was embarrassing. Very

embarrassing.

“Here.” Melanie gave her a tissue. “Hold this to your

tongue.”

Gina closed her eyes, unsure which she hated worse—the

pain from her tongue, or the feel of the soft, dry tissue inside her

mouth.

“Better?”

Gina stood. Melanie steadied her by cupping her elbow.

“We should get you inside.”

Suddenly, the icy wind infiltrated her skin again. It surprised

her. For those brief few moments, she hadn’t been bothered by

the bitter wind.

Melanie held open the door and Gina stepped inside. The

• 16 •

FLESH and BOnE

warmth of the library caved in on her and she found it difficult to

breathe. Usually the warmth comforted her, but not now. Now it

felt stifling and entrapping. Gina couldn’t run away from Melanie

even though she wanted, at that moment, to do nothing more.

Melanie was the head librarian and Gina saw her every

Wednesday and sometimes on the weekends when Gina would

come in and peruse the shelves. Lately she’d found herself

searching for the meaning of the word love. In the books and in

her everyday life.

That curious mission came to Gina’s mind now, as Melanie

quietly escorted them to the washroom where she encouraged her

to sit on the low counter.

“Open,” Melanie said softly, as if offering the sweetest, most

sugary reward a child could dream of if she did so.

Gina fought off the nervous urge to swallow. She opened her

mouth and had to close her eyes as Melanie took a closer look.

“Open a bit wider,” she whispered sweetly. Gina opened

her eyes and saw the penlight Melanie had dug out of her purse.

Gina’s heart rate kicked up as the scent of Melanie’s gum mixed

with her Obsession cologne.

“Now stick out your tongue.” The words swirled like a

warm, rum-tainted elixir.

Gina complied. She stared at the orange-brown maple wood

of Melanie’s eyes. Striated panels of beautifully stained wood,

shooting from her pupils. Golds, oranges, browns. She stared

at the paleness of her skin. Like moonlight on the darkest of

nights. Her lips were like fragile pink rose petals basking in that

incredible moonlight, just waiting for the right moment to open.

Gina was mesmerized. Normally, she didn’t get such an

opportunity to stare so blatantly at Melanie.

“It doesn’t need stitches, so that’s good,” Melanie said,

lowering the penlight. “The bleeding’s finally stopped. There’s

some swelling, but that should be down by tomorrow.”

“How do you know so much?”

• 17 •

ROnica BLack

“I read a lot.”

Melanie smiled and held a warm, wet paper towel to her

face. Gently, yet firmly, she cleaned Gina’s chin, lips, and cheeks.

Then she examined Gina’s forehead and shone the penlight in her

eyes.“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?”

Around you? Always.

“ Shih,” Gina let out.

Melanie’s back straightened and she looked alarmed.

“I’m sorreh. I mean…I wasn’t talken to you.” Damn, it

really hurt to talk. And she felt like a fool. A blabber-mouthing,

word-slurring fool.

What was she going to do? Words were her world. They

comforted her, entertained her, and when she spoke them they

protected her. Not being able to speak was for her like telling a

mime he was a double arm amputee.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Melanie looked

worried.

Gina held her breath and felt her heart pounding furiously

throughout her body. It was thudding, slamming, surging. All she

could do was sit and stare, her senses electrified and seeking,

taking everything there was to take in about Melanie Macbeth.

Her scent, so wonderful and warm. The splitting orange

embers in her eyes. Melanie was like a quaint little cabin nestled

in the blizzard-blown woods. Safe, warm, cozy. Shelter from the

storm of life. Gina wanted to walk inside and never return.

She wanted to lie with her on a big bearskin rug, skimming

over her firelit skin with her fingertips. She wanted to watch

the small weight of her breasts pucker along with her lips. She

wanted to take those lips into her mouth and…

“Gina?”

Gina refocused.

Melanie’s brow was furrowed. “I’m worried. We should take

you to the hospital.”

“Wha? No.” Gina stood. “I’m okay.”

• 18 •

FLESH and BOnE

Melanie sighed. “I wish you would go in for a CAT scan.

Just to be sure.”

“No.” Gina shook her head for extra effect and said as best

she could, “Besides, I have a reading. I never miss a reading.”

“That’s true, you don’t.”

Melanie took Gina’s hand and held it wrist facing up. Gently,

she straightened her fingers and retrieved the wadded tissue. She

threw it away and re-closed her fingers, giving her hand a slight

squeeze.

“You’re blushing,” Melanie said.

“Oh.” Oh? Gina cursed her cotton-stuffed tongue. She

wished she could just tear open the seams and rip it all out.

Melanie didn’t seem to notice. She handed her a paper cup

full of water and told her to carefully rinse out her mouth.

“Better?” Melanie asked softly.

Gina swooned for real this time, lost in Melanie’s eyes.

“You sure?” She steadied her, cupping her elbow.

Gina nodded, burned hotter, and then managed to speak.

Sort of. “Mmm-hmm.”

Melanie watched her for a moment and then gave Gina her

coat and book bag. Once again cupping her elbow, she led the

way through the door and headed into the main room.

The patrons were there, waiting for Gina by the big stone

fireplace, many of them already comfortable in their chairs.

They all voiced hellos when they saw her. She gave a wave

and smiled. Melanie led them to Gina’s chair. It was dark green

leather and positioned in front of the fireplace. A standing lamp

and microphone flanked the chair, along with an ottoman where

she always placed her book bag. Melanie offered Gina the chair

and then sat next to her on the ottoman. Silence filled the room.

Gina was supposed to finish the John Irving book, but as she

tried to say the simple word “hello” she knew she wasn’t going

to be able to do it.

Melanie was watching her. She smiled gently at Gina and

then looked to the listeners.

• 19 •

ROnica BLack

“Ladies and gentlemen, Gina is unable to read to you this

evening.”

There were mumbles and grumbles. Someone asked why.

Melanie explained. “I hit her in the head with the door and

she bit her tongue.”

Gina did the oddest thing. She started to laugh. The whole

scenario was really quite ridiculous.

“Since I’m the one who beat her up, I’m going to offer my

services as a substitute reader for the night. That is, if you’ll

all have me. And…” She looked to Gina. “If that’s okay with

Gina.”

Gina smiled. Then she nodded. She looked out at the crowd.

Twenty-eight souls, give or take. Many had been coming to the

Wednesday night readings for years.

She adored them. Just as they adored the words she shared.

Melanie found the book and opened to the marked page. She

began to read.

Gina watched for a while. She studied Melanie’s lips, the

way they pressed and parted, the movement of the tendons in

her throat, the graceful swoop of her neck. Then Gina closed her

eyes and listened. Melanie’s voice was like sugar. Thick, sifting

handfuls of sugar. She imagined herself scooping up palmful

after palmful and just letting it run through her fingers.

She imagined licking off the remnants. Imagined each tiny

little granule melting on her tongue.

It was heaven. Sweet, sugary heaven.

And before she knew it, Melanie had stopped. The sugar

canister had been closed. Gina opened her eyes and found

Melanie watching her.

“How’d I do?”

Gina swallowed. “Good.” She blushed again.

Melanie smiled.

Some of the listeners approached them, many of them

talking to Melanie, who was always very kind and very patient.

• 20 •

FLESH and BOnE

And she touched them, not just emotionally but physically. She

would cup their upper arms, or touch their faces and hands. She

gave long, firm hugs, and yet she was as gentle as a lamb. She

was wonderful. A wonderful human being.

“Are you ready?”

The question came out of left field. Gina tried to stop and

rewind the past few moments. But she couldn’t.

People were leaving, heading for home. Gina focused.

Melanie was looking at her.

“We should really get you home.”

Melanie swung the book over her shoulder and reached for

Gina’s hand.

Oh, how warm it was.

It was so warm that Gina barely noticed the harsh gale-

like wind as it attacked them outdoors. All she could feel was

Melanie’s hand. Soft and warm and alive.

“You live in the Heights, don’t you?”

Gina nodded. “How did you know?”

Melanie shrugged. “I’ve known for a while.”

They rode in silence after that, in Melanie’s Honda. Gina

thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t have to walk home,

marching into the wall of frigid wind. Being with Melanie was

better than she’d imagined. Warm, cozy, safe from the harsh cold.

She felt like melting into the seat, and she found herself feeling

disappointed when Melanie swung into a parking space and

turned off the ignition.

“Here we are,” Melanie said. And before Gina realized it,

Melanie was at her door, pulling it open and helping her out.

They entered the building and the wind whistled through the

outline of the doors.

Melanie smiled softly as they rode up the elevator and

walked down the hallway to Gina’s door.

As best she could, Gina asked if Melanie wanted to come

inside.

• 21 •

ROnica BLack

Melanie studied her for a moment and nodded.

Gina opened the door and followed Melanie inside, hurriedly

snatching up lingering water glasses and mail.

“I love your place,” Melanie said, heading into the living

room where two reading lamps shone from opposite ends of the

couch. “These bookshelves are amazing.” She ran her fingertips

along the borders of the floor to ceiling shelves. “Did you have

these put in?”

“I built them.”

“Amazing,” Melanie whispered.

“Would you like to sit down?”

Melanie walked to the sofa and held her hand out for Gina.

There was a soft, inviting look in her eyes. “Sit with me,” she

said.Gina sat and Melanie inched closer, laying her arm along

the back of the couch. Her face was inches from Gina’s, a warm

crackling in her eyes. Gina could almost hear them. Feel their

heat.“We need to take care of you,” Melanie whispered, leaning

in closer.

Panic hammered with ferocity in Gina’s chest. She closed

her eyes, trying to get control.

She opened her eyes and Melanie pulled away.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” Gina said it as a whisper, her voice strained with

desire. She stared into Melanie’s eyes and felt her cheeks heat

and her eyelids grow heavy with the sheer beauty of her. It was

almost too much to take. Melanie was almost too much to take.

Melanie moved in again with a look of barely harbored

hunger. Her knuckles brushed Gina’s face. Their lips connected.

Melanie’s felt searing and pulpous and moist. So perfect and

plump. Gina could taste her, smell her, breathe her in. She made

her feel light-headed but hot weighted, like her head was floating

above but her body was rooted to the couch.

Melanie kissed her gently. Oh so gently. Her lips framed and

• 22 •

FLESH and BOnE

tugged on Gina’s, her tongue carefully caressing, tickling, and

tantalizing, very careful not to go inside where Gina was sore.

Her affection was saturating, sating every open lonely cell

in Gina’s body. Gina couldn’t help but moan and knot her fingers

in her shirt. Melanie responded by sucking her, first the top lip,

then the bottom. Gina leaned forward with every tug, but then

she leaned back, liking the feel of her pulling on her, liking the

feel of being captured between her lips. After a short while, they

both became breathless. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to

do this?” Melanie asked.

For the first time in years, Gina was lost for words.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Melanie continued. “I

should’ve asked you out, but the library is my job and I wasn’t

sure if I should.” She touched Gina’s face again, whispered her

thumb across her cheek. “I’ve listened to you every night you’ve

read. For months. Sometimes I even hid in the back to listen and

watch. And somewhere along the way…” She turned her head.

Gina pictured her with the patrons. Touching their shoulders,

holding their hands. Caresses so gentle, so kind, so caring that

Gina seemed able to feel each one as if Melanie were touching

her. Melanie’s cheeks plumed in dark pink patches. Gina touched

them, felt the heat of what she was about to say.

“Somewhere along the way…” Her eyes were full of fire

and Gina could see the pulse jump in her neck. “I think I fell in

love with you.”

Something invisible jammed Gina back into the couch and

held her there. The cushions encased her. The pressure was so

great she could hardly breathe. Love. She said love.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t describe it any other way.

And tonight, well, tonight made it clear to me.” Melanie watched

her closely. Gina couldn’t speak. No words were coming. Her

vocabulary locomotive had run off its tracks.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

Gina managed to swallow, shaking her head.

• 23 •

ROnica BLack

“No?” She exhaled against the delicate flesh of Gina’s palm.

“Are you sure?” Gooseflesh came to life on Gina’s skin.

“Yes,” Gina said. “I’m sure.”

Melanie’s kisses collapsed over her breath, pressing into

Gina’s hand. First with her lips and then with her hot tongue. She

swirled it around and trailed up to Gina’s fingers. In between, up

and down. The sensation bolted hard and fast between Gina’s

legs. She pressed her thighs together and her toes curled.

She tried to speak, but Melanie stopped her by placing a

finger to her lips. She leaned in toward her ear and whispered,

“I want to show you how I feel tonight.” The soft timbre of her

voice trembled pleasure into Gina. Her body jerked, her senses

intensifying every word.

“Please let me. I don’t want you to do a thing. Just let me

show you how I feel.”

She kissed Gina’s face. Oh, so lightly. One kiss here, one

kiss there. Her breath was warm, her kisses awakening her skin.

“Can I?” Melanie said between each kiss. “Can I show

you?”She pulled away to look into her eyes.

Gina didn’t know what to say or what to do. All she knew

was that she wanted this woman. She wanted to know her, hold

her, feel her. Love her.

Love.

There was that word again. Am I in love? What does it mean

to love? Why don’t I know? Such a simple word, used in many

different forms. I should know, but I don’t.

Melanie pressed another kiss to her lips. One that took

her into an abyss of soft warmth with silk and satin all around

her, caressing her, encasing her, threatening to take her away

forever.

She looked into her eyes again and they both were struggling

for breath. Gina realized that her body felt electric and alive,

every nerve tingling and aching for Melanie. Like a plug craving

• 24 •

FLESH and BOnE

a power socket, Gina pressed her lips to hers and felt the surge

of her energy.

Gina’s brain and body screamed. Insisting.

“Yes,” she managed in between kisses.

They pulled apart and an amorous smile spread across

Melanie’s face. She stood and held out her hand. She led Gina to

her bedroom and flicked on the bedside light. Her eyes swept up

and down her body, then Gina watched her hands as they began

unbuttoning her blouse. Gina tried to help, but Melanie held her

wrists and shook her head.

“Let me,” she whispered.

Inch by inch, Gina’s shirt was loosened and opened. Her

heart ricocheted behind her ribs and her breath hitched when

Melanie’s knuckles skimmed her flesh.

Gina’s every cell was open and waiting. Craving her.

Melanie pushed the blouse off her shoulders and sank her

teeth into Gina’s neck. Her mouth burned and bit as she kissed

and sucked, fastening herself to her. Oh God. The rush was bliss,

the intensity weakening her knees. Melanie’s feeding frenzy

found its way to her ear where she told Gina how wonderful she

tasted, how she loved the feel of her skin yielding beneath her.

Her fingers dragged down to Gina’s slacks where they unbuttoned

and unzipped. As soon as the pants were open, her hand sank

inside her panties where she stroked her.

“Oh God, yes. You’re so wet, so very wet.” She bit her neck

again, cooing to her. Her hand was nestled in her folds, moving

up and down, encasing her clit with her silky desire.

Gina couldn’t speak. All she could muster were strained

moans of approval.

“I’m so sorry,” Melanie said, “I just couldn’t wait. Oh God,

you feel so good.”

Threatening to collapse in ecstasy, Gina gripped her wrist

and stilled her hand. Melanie seemed to understand.

“Right, okay. The pants.” She tugged them down, along

• 25 •

ROnica BLack

with her panties. Then her eyes took Gina in as she hurriedly tore

herself from her own clothes. She stood before her, eyes ablaze,

breathing rapidly, and Gina noticed that the pink splotches on

her cheeks matched those that marked her chest. Melanie was

aroused, her skin alive and vibrant.

Gently, she eased Gina onto the bed. The pain from her

tailbone slammed through her like vibrating symbols. Melanie

cupped her face with her hands and kissed her tenderly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Why don’t you lie on your

stomach?”

Gina hesitated, but Melanie’s eyes melted her resolve.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, trailing her lips down to her

neck.Her skin electrified, Gina turned and lay down, resting her

cheek on her pillow. Her head sank lower and she could hear the

racing of her pulse echo throughout the thick cotton.

Melanie whispered to her again, but she was unable to hear.

And then Gina felt her hands. Warm and firm, rubbing over

her back. Then fingertips skimmed where the hands massaged,

feather light and awakening from her shoulders to her backside.

Gina quivered, each skin cell wanting to reach out and grab her

hand.Melanie kept whispering, her words stroking Gina like her

fingertips, in circles, large and small, long lines up and down her

back. She traced and trailed, tickling and teasing. Gina felt her

move, felt her fingertips flatten into palms. Then Gina felt the soft

furnace of her mouth. Kissing, pressing, and releasing. First hot

and wet and then vacant and cold as the night air assaulted where

her mouth just left.

Careful, slow, deliberate, Melanie followed the path of

her hands, covering every inch. Gina’s body jerked and settled,

jerked and settled. Gina clenched her pillow, cried out into its

soft depths.

Her mouth continued downward, lightly kissing her buttocks.

Again she made the circles, this time with her tongue. Gina felt

• 26 •

FLESH and BOnE

herself tense. Felt her fingertips run up and down her thighs.

Melanie’s lips collapsed over her tongue and she kissed her,

careful to avoid where she was most certainly going to bruise.

The kisses were harder now with her tongue fully involved.

Down she went. Over her buttocks to her thighs.

Kisses. Hot kisses. Hard, pressing kisses.

Swirling tongue kisses. All over her thighs.

Her hands moved down farther, charting the way for her

mouth. Down to the backs of her knees and beyond to her calves.

Her mouth followed quickly, her desire no doubt growing.

Gina could hear her moaning now. Hear the sharpness of her

breathing.

Gina jerked at the tickle of her attached to her inner thigh.

Nearly came off the bed when she kissed the bend of her knee.

Melanie laughed and nibbled on her. Ran her nails down the

outsides of her legs.

Then she stopped. Gina felt her move and her hand cupped

her hip as she encouraged her to turn over. Gina found Melanie’s

face more flushed than ever. Her breasts were rising and falling

with her breathing. She kissed Gina’s lips only briefly and Gina

was able to catch the baked coconut scent of her hair. It tickled

her as she worked her way down once again, across the planes

of her stomach, down to her pelvis where her tongue extended

to trace around her trimmed hair. Gina’s mind panicked but her

body surged with white-hot yearning. She told her to wait but her

hips disagreed, lifting toward her mouth.

“Let me,” she said. “Just let me.”

Gina wasn’t nervous. No, that wasn’t the word. She was

unsure. And she felt exposed.

Oh God!

Melanie was kissing her, skirting her hair. With every

imprint of her lips, she shushed her, saying, “It’s okay. Let me

love you.”

Then Melanie nestled her body between her legs and spread

her open with her palms. Gina lifted her head to look at her, to tell

• 27 •

ROnica BLack

her to wait once again. But she was already at her, tongue licking

up her thigh to her center. Her thumbs moved from her thighs

to her lips, where they spread her open further, dipped into her

arousal, and then rubbed her clit.

“Oh God,” Gina breathed. “Oh God.”

Melanie grinned at her and then pressed her face to her

center. Gina felt her tongue rim her entrance and then felt it

shoot inside her, pushing and thrusting. She squeezed the bed

covers and slammed her head into the pillow. Melanie’s thumbs

continued, playing her clit like a well-tuned guitar. Both sides, on

the top, inward and outward, up and down.

Oh God. Oh God.

And her tongue, swirling, pushing, in and out and all over

again.

She’s…she’s…oh God, she’s fucking me with her tongue.

Gina couldn’t think. It felt so good. It felt so good. She

couldn’t get past that. Couldn’t get past how good it felt.

“Please,” Gina managed, once again lifting her head.

Melanie stopped and met her gaze. “Please what?”

Breathing heavily, Gina fell back into the pillow.

Melanie was still watching her. Gina could feel it.

“Please don’t stop?”

Her thumbs started again. Playing her magic core.

Gina jerked and groaned.

“Okay, I won’t stop.”

Gina looked at her and watched as she went back down.

Melanie’s tongue shot into her and her thumbs quickened.

Gina’s back arched and her groans turned to deep, throaty

cries.She closed her eyes and felt her body start to float. She

opened them and stared at the ceiling. Yes, yes, I am floating. The

ceiling focused and unfocused. It grew closer and closer.

Gina’s body was humming. Existing on a plane she never

could’ve imagined.

• 28 •

FLESH and BOnE

She felt herself thrusting into Melanie, her fingers tangled in

her hair. She didn’t know how or for how long. Reality was gone,

lost in a haze of humming pleasure.

The ceiling loomed closer.

Closer.

Closer.

And then Melanie said it. Said it so quickly Gina thought

she imagined it.

She said, “Love.”

Just “Love.”

And then it happened.

Gina reached the ceiling and it imploded.

Into the most brilliant of bright lights.

Electric reds and blues and purples and yellows.

All of them representing raw pleasure, raw pleasure humming

and swirling into one another.

She clung to her head and watched the colors come down

and consume her.

Pleasure, pleasure, oh God, pleasure.

Gina opened up, took hold of it, squeezed it, and never

wanted to let it go.

She held it and held it.

Held her.

Felt her body vibrate and flex and vibrate and flex.

And then Melanie’s head lifted and she looked at her.

Gina could hardly catch her breath. Melanie was flushed in

different shades of pink. Her lips were full and darkened.

“I love you, Gina. I can’t help myself. And I…” She looked

down to her thumbs. “I love this.” She dipped them once again

into her arousal and pushed them into the sides of her clit. She

began to massage again. “I love giving you pleasure. Watching it

overcome you. I love it. I love it all.”

Gina’s hips bucked.

Oh God. It was starting again.

• 29 •

ROnica BLack

“Oh, yes, Gina. Take it. Take me. Let me love you.”

She was playing her, all so perfectly. The rhythm of her

touch was dangerous. So good and so dangerous.

And as the colors on the ceiling called out to Gina once

again, all the words she’d ever read on love made sense. And

yet they didn’t come close to describing the magnitude of her

feelings.

Love, love, oh God, I desperately need words to explain

it… She cried out. Cried out so loud her voice weakened and

caved.

The colors swirled, her body burned, her nerve centers took

took took.

Her heart rejoiced.

All of it happened and happened together. It lasted, a glowing

ball of mingling energy, it lasted for a very long time.

And Gina looked at her after she stilled.

Her eyes. Her pink flushed skin. The sweat along the dips of

her collarbone.

A tear welled and fell down Gina’s cheek. She smiled but

hitched with a cry.

“I love you,” Melanie said, coming forward to brush at her

cheek.

And suddenly, the words came to Gina. Love could not

be controlled or contained. Could not be truly taught or truly

explained. It was the great mystery of life, the great necessity,

the greatly desired, the grand ride along the way. There were no

answers, no words to encapsulate it. It just…simply was.

Gina nodded and reach for her hand. She held it to her heart

and said only what she was able to say and what she’d never

thought she’d ever have reason to say.

She said, “I love you.”

• 30 •

FLESH and BOnE

E iS FOR EROtic

The sun is sick with gray, the sky a hazy pewter

screen. Around her the street drones to the rhythm

of the passersby. People talking, walking, hurrying, cursing

the downpour. Cars swishing, horns honking, wipers whining,

whipping across pelted windshields.

Her thick, white high heels join in, click dully on the wet

pavement, weaving expertly between people and puddles. The

air is heavy with chill and she breathes it in deeply, welcoming

the taste and feel of the cold rain. It’s fitting, yet invigorating.

Heart and feet beating with a purpose, she sinks her hands

into the deep pockets of her large raincoat, searching for her

music. Finding a tiny earphone, she presses it into place and

pushes Play from her pocket, leaving the iPod safely inside.

Her eyes drift close momentarily as the drums, violins, and

harp all start up, setting her mind into the mode of her purpose.

She opens her eyes and focuses on the tall building not far

ahead. She counts the floors downward from the top. Julia is on

the sixty-fourth.

Eyes trained on the building, she hurries, anxious and excited.

There is something she must do on this cold, rainy Wednesday.

Something that cannot wait any longer.

Her heels click on, carrying her on the wings of the beautiful

Celtic music. When she reaches the building, she stops in front

• 31 •

ROnica BLack

of the large doors and looks up into the falling rain. She takes in

the sharply vertical skyscraper and closes her eyes. The raindrops

melt into her skin and run icy fingers through her scalp, grounding

her with the chill, soaring her with the thrill.

Yes. It’s all making sense. It’s good she’s here.

She pulls out the earpiece and embraces the static hum of

the world around her. The doorman calls to her, people sidestep

her, “excuse me, lookout, pardon me,” all of them a weaving

snake of bobbing black umbrellas. Rain thumping down on it all,

whispering in her ear.

Julia.

Growing a little dizzy, she steps inside the building, making

her way immediately to the elevators. Yellow tent signs warn

cAuTion WeT Floor. And the large lobby smells of damp polyester

and dirty streets from the hundreds of pairs of wet shoeprints.

Dozens of people clamor by, exiting like packed cattle from

the elevators, all of them on a mission called “lunch.” Bobbing

and dodging, she manages to find an elevator going up.

“What floor?” a nice-looking man in an expensive business

suit asks, his slack umbrella dripping onto the gray Berber

carpet.

“Sixty-four,” she says, breathless.

Beside her a woman shuffles away toward the wall and a

few people behind her clear their throats. A cell phone rings in

the tone of a dog barking “Jingle Bells.” Someone chuckles and

another sneezes.

The elevator stops three times on its way to sixty-four. Men

and women squeeze by her, hurrying off to their appointments or

their desks. She pushes up the arm of her coat and glances at her

watch.

Five till noon.

Perfect.

Sixty-four arrives and she steps off, glad to be in the open

but nervous about the destination ahead. A maze of cubicles

challenges her, but she moves quickly, giving the few heads she

• 32 •

FLESH and BOnE

does see little attention. Phones ring and beep, most of them going

unanswered. When she reaches a main corridor, people smile and

nod, rushing by her. A few stare and one even comments on the

rain. She smiles but lowers her eyes, quickening her step.

When she reaches Margaret’s desk she’s glad to see that

she’s already left for lunch.

She looks beyond Margaret’s area to the blinds on Julia’s

windows. They are vertical and closed, and as she approaches,

she’s just able to make out Julia’s voice on the other side. Hand

on the cool doorknob, she closes her eyes and leans in, listening

to the deep, throaty strum of her. Julia’s voice was the first thing

she’d been exposed to when they met. A business phone call that

had been placed across the wires and into infinity nine years ago.

That phone call had led to many, many more.

And now they are here. In this moment. Her heart beats wildly

into her throat as she turns the doorknob. Opening her eyes and

breathing deeply, she eases the door open. Julia doesn’t see her

at first, facing the large outer window overlooking downtown,

phone pressed to her ear. She steps inside, takes another courage-

seeking breath and leans back against the door as it closes, making

sure to lock it as well.

The click catches Julia’s attention and she turns. Her blue

eyes widen and her face halts with true surprise. A low whisper

escapes her. “Sam.” Then, caught back in the net of conversation,

she continues.

“Ye—yes, I understand.”

Sam doesn’t smile and she doesn’t wave. Instead, she crosses

briskly to the broad oak desk and pulls the book bag from her

shoulder. She busies herself retrieving the items she needs. Three

wide candles, a small book of matches, her iPod, which she sets

in Julia’s speaker stand, and one single white rose.

Julia watches her closely, saying “mmm-hmms” into the

phone. Sam’s body heats under her stare and heats even more

under her unspoken questions. Sam meets her gaze, promising

answers and a whole lot more.

• 33 •

ROnica BLack

The match scrapes and snaps to life as she lights the candles

and places them along the front of the desk. Then she walks to the

big window and closes the blinds. The room immediately comes

to life, inhaling and exhaling with the breaths of the candlelight.

Sam gets lost in it for a moment, her body buzzing, her soul

rooting and growing in what it is she’s about to do. With a false

sense of confidence, she stands in front of her lover of eight years,

her best friend of nine. Julia’s eyes search hers desperately, and

Sam can see her pulse in the tiny vessel on her temple.

“Say good-bye,” Sam whispers.

Julia clenches the phone. “Right, right. Yes. Listen, Bob, I

need to run. What’s that? Yes, okay. Uh-huh. Okay. Talk to you

soon. Good—”

Sam unplugs the phone, simply pulling the cord out from

behind the charging stand. Julia lowers the receiver slowly and

Sam takes it and sets it in its cradle. Julia still appears too shocked

to speak.

“Hi,” Sam offers, taking Julia’s hands in her own.

“Hi.” Julia holds up her hands. “You’re freezing.” She looks

at her face and the shoulders of her coat. “Soaked nearly through.

I’ll have Margaret get you some coffee.”

“She’s gone,” Sam says. “Just as nearly everyone else is.

Besides, I’m far from cold.”

“Did you forget your umbrella?”

“Didn’t want one.”

“Why not?” Julia still sounds confused.

“Because I wanted to feel every drop.” Sam made sure to

look into her eyes.

“You did?”

Sam runs her hands through her hair, finger-combing her

long, dark locks. “Yes.”

“I don’t understand—are you okay?”

Sam once again holds her stare. “No. I’m not okay. Because

we haven’t been okay. But I’m about to make that right. I’m about

• 34 •

FLESH and BOnE

to show you just what it is you do to me. What it is you mean to

me.”“I’m so sorr—” Julia tries.

“No. Don’t speak. Please. We are long past words. Spoken

or unspoken. And we are long past meaning well and meaning to.

It’s time to do.” She takes her hand and pulls her in front of the

chair and then pushes her down into it.

“Sit,” Sam says, inches from her lips. “And don’t move.”

Julia nods and Sam wheels the chair around the desk face-to-face

with the visitor’s chair. Julia tries to speak again, but Sam stops

her lips with a press of her finger.

“Shh.”

Sam leans against the desk and pushes play on the iPod.

She adjusts the volume for Loreena McKennitt’s “Marco Polo.”

Beautiful, haunting, and exotic, it is Sam’s narrative for Julia. It

gripped her the very first time she heard it, just as Julia’s voice

had. Allowing the music to fill her, Sam stands in front of Julia

and unties the belt of her raincoat. Then her fingers undo the large

buttons. Julia’s cheeks bloom red and her hands squeeze together

in her lap. Sam can tell her breathing has quickened by the rise

and fall of her chest.

The music is a hypnotic instrumental and Sam knows every

bit. She runs her hands down the front of her raincoat to ease it

apart, her entire being filling up with Julia, her voice, her eyes,

her face, her hands, her song.

“I love you,” Sam whispers, opening the raincoat, slipping it

from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

Julia tries to mouth it back, but Sam stops her, bending to

gather her lips in her own for a quick, heated kiss. Sam feels her

tense but then soften, and a low groan comes up from her chest.

Sam massages her lips softly, wanting desperately to continue,

but she pulls away, very much aware of her own body’s burning-

hot need. The scent of Julia, the feel of her lips, the sound of her

• 35 •

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groan…it had been so long, so damn long. Her body and soul had

been so empty, like a cold, parched fireplace that had just been

stacked with thirsty logs and hungry kindling. Lit matches were

now being tossed into it, end over end.

Whoosh. She can feel the sudden heat and flame, hear the

snapping and crackling of her own burning desire.

She wants her, needs her, and she stands before her, wearing

nothing but white lace panties and a matching bra. Julia’s

favorite.

Her skin feels alive as if Julia had run her nails lightly over

her. “I can feel you,” she says to her, the fire surging. “I’ve been

feeling you since early this morning.”

Julia watches her, the blooming on her cheeks darkening.

“I was in the shower when it started,” Sam says breathlessly,

trailing her fingers up and down her sides, moving her hips to the

music. “I was out of my shower gel so I picked up your soap and

started lathering myself. And the second I caught the scent of it, I

nearly collapsed. The smell of it, of that sudsy, curved white bar…

it was you. And it had been so long since I’d inhaled the silky,

soft scent of your skin, it nearly overwhelmed me. Especially

when I realized…that it was you I was rubbing all over me.”

Julia swallows and her pulse races alongside her throat. Sam

steps up to her and straddles her, laying her legs over the armrests

of the chair. Gripping the back of it, she arches her back and

thrusts her chest forward. “See, baby. Smell me. I have you all

over me.”

Sam looks to the ceiling, watches the shadows flickering

there, and moans when Julia’s breath finds her collarbone. It’s

followed quickly by her warm hands, palms flattened against

the planes of her back, rubbing up and down. Julia inhales and

exhales, electrifying Sam.

“Oh God, Julia,” Sam whispers. “You feel so good. You

touch me everywhere. Do you know that?” She holds Julia’s face

• 36 •

FLESH and BOnE

in her hands, feels the fire of her skin. “No matter where you are

in the world, you’re always touching me all over.”

She kisses her again, this one longer and deeper as their

tongues probe hungrily. More noises come from Julia and her

fingers dig into Sam’s back. Sam wants so badly to give in and

ravage her right away. But she forces herself to push away, to

break her lips away from Julia’s.

Standing, Sam dances some more, skimming her hands over

her body, holding Julia’s gaze. The music seems to crawl inside

her, captivating her muscles, moving through her like a wave.

She closes her eyes, licks her lips, imagines Julia is touching

her…everywhere, inside and out. That her mouth is upon her,

those luscious lips, the long pink tongue.

Sam glides her hands to her bra. She frames her lacy nipples,

rubs in circles, exciting herself. The sensation bolts straight down

her body to her clit, and Julia’s eyes upon her as she does it only

intensifies the moment.

Trembling with desire, Sam moves her fingers to the straps

of the bra. She slips under them, bringing them down from her

shoulders. Then, holding Julia’s gaze, she reaches back and

releases the clasp. The bra slinks down her arms and falls slack

at her side. She drops it to the floor. And once again she moves

her hips and hands, touching and teasing, all the way back up

to her breasts. She frames her now bare nipples and squeezes,

delighting in the spark it causes between her legs. She does it

several times, tensing and hissing, clenching her eyes and then

opening them in amorous surprise.

Julia watches it all from the chair, her back straight as a rod,

her face flushed, and her hands holding tightly to the armrests.

She sits very still but her eyes are a fiery blue and her lips are

a swollen deep red. She swallows frequently, her lower lip

twitching and sometimes mouthing silent words.

Sam can smell her skin, that hot, silky, sudsy smell, and

she knows she’s aroused. Just the look of her, sitting so intently,

• 37 •

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perched like a cat hunting in tall grass, ready to pounce at any

second. It makes Sam wet.

So much so that she decides to show her.

Sliding her hands down, Sam slides them under the lace of

her underwear and lowers the fabric to her ankles. She steps out

of them carefully and retrieves the white rose from the desk.

The soft petals kiss her nose and then her lips as she inhales.

Julia watches her closely and her eyes dilate when Sam sits in the

chair directly across from her.

“A white rose,” Sam says. “Your favorite.” She presses it to

her lips again and smiles. “You always say you love the way they

smell, the way they feel on your skin.”

Sam runs the rose over her chin, down her neck to her breast.

There she twirls the satin swirl around her erect nipple, hissing at

the sensation. “You’re right,” she says. “It feels so good. Just like

you.” Slowly, she traces the rose down her abdomen to her pubis,

her muscles trembling at the faintest of touches.

Body on fire, she inches back on the chair and spreads her

legs up and over the armrests. Julia tenses and her eyelids appear

to grow heavy as her irises focus in desire. Sam warms at the

sight, and her nerves feel charged as if throbbing with neon.

She feels so out of control, everything inside and out of her

reacting involuntarily. She’s aching and seeking, wanting to show

and take.

She concentrates on the candlelight as it flickers across the

room. It shadows the elegant features of Julia’s face, creating two

halves. One light, one dark. One full of immeasurable love and

devotion, the other full of incredible lust and desire. Both of them

staring her down.

The music strums along with it all, stroking the air with

tangible vibrations causing the rose to almost move along on its

own, following the music’s path, weaving intricate designs along

her skin.

When the soft petals reach her bare, aching flesh, she inhales

• 38 •

FLESH and BOnE

sharply. Julia leans forward, the veins in her neck and hands

standing at attention.

Sam mumbles in pleasure, stroking the rose along the sides

of her clitoris. Making great grand circles around and around.

She can feel herself throbbing, dying for the pressured touch

directly on her reddened knob. She sighs into the dancing light,

moves her hips up and around at the music. The satin swirl of the

rose works its magic mystically, and when she pushes it upon

her clitoris she arches her back and cries out in ecstasy. Twirling

and twirling, she presses it firmer and firmer against her. Pulsing

in pleasure, she tightens her abdomen and holds her head off the

chair, locking eyes with Julia.

“This is what you do to me, Jule. Do you see it? Oh, oh God,

it feels good.” She brings herself close to climax, so close she can

feel every tendon in her body strain for it.

“Look,” she says, forcing herself to go slower. “Look at how

wet…”

She lowers the rose to her opening, feels the teasing of the

tightly wound petals as she dips the tip inside. Somewhere, amidst

the music and the glimmering light, she hears Julia groan.

“Yes, Julia,” she says. “This is how you make me feel. See

it. See it all.” She twists it and dips it, fucking the tight, soft

petals, saturating it with her arousal.

“Oh, honey. Yes, oh God. I’m fucking your rose. I’m fucking

you. Do you see it? I’m so wet, look, Julia.”

“Ah,” Julia mumbles. “You’re so beautiful.”

Sam brings the rose upward, trailing her hot, silky wetness

across the planes of her belly, up to her breasts, where she once

again spins the rose upon her nipples.

“See, baby? See how wet I am?”

Julia groans a yes and then drops to her knees. She wraps

her hands under and around Sam’s thighs, holding her close.

Sam stares into her fiery eyes, feels Julia’s breath searing her

skin. Sam wants to follow those breaths, hold them captive, and

• 39 •

ROnica BLack

then crawl in after them. Using the rose, she touches Julia’s lips.

Julia inhales deeply and then kisses it, extending her tongue for

a taste.

“My two favorite smells,” Julia whispers, rubbing her cheek

along the rose, closing her eyes. When she opens them, she takes

the rose from Sam and skims it along her skin, up one thigh and

down the other. Sam jerks and sighs, watching and feeling. Julia

plays with her like that for a bit longer and then brings it back to

Sam’s center where she places it top down upon her clitoris. She

spins it carefully and lowers herself, once again extending her

tongue, this time to find Sam’s opening.

“Oh God,” Sam murmurs, gripping Julia’s thick, sandy

mane, the feel of her heavy wet tongue driving her mad.

Julia thrusts inside her and Sam throws her head back, the

slick, firm tongue delving in and twirling around and around

just like the rose on her clit. Noises come from them both, short,

sharp gasps and long, throaty growls. Sam begins to pump her

hips, the ecstasy building and building. In a hurried motion, Julia

tosses the rose aside and brings her mouth up to feed where the

rose had been. Then long, hard fingers tease Sam’s opening just

before Julia shoves them inside.

“Oh God!”

Julia’s pumping her. Into her, out of her, fast, hard, long,

and short. Her mouth is now sucking, bobbing Sam’s clit in a

confinement of wet, soft lips and dense, slick tongue.

“Fuck, oh God, Julia. Baby—” Sam shuts her eyes, the

mounting pleasure too great. The music strums, beats, and moves in

its hypnotic rhythm. The candlelight matches it, pulsating, beating,

and dancing. Her insides do the same, reflecting her outside.

Strums, beats, pulsations. All of it doing so with one word.

Julia. Julia. Julia.

Sam calls out her name then, loud and deep and throaty,

hands clinging to her head, body shoving into her. Julia groans in

return, tightening her grip, fucking Sam harder and harder.

“I can feel you—” Sam stutters. “I can feel you filling me.

• 40 •

FLESH and BOnE

All of you, all over me. In me and on me. You. Everywhere. I

love you—”

Her body rocks and shakes and then stills. The million

little pieces of her fall slowly and gently back down, like spent

confetti.

“Julia,” she says one more time.

Sam lies there, body limp, mind flaccid. Julia lifts herself,

but leaves her fingers inside. She grins slightly, her blue eyes

soft, her mouth swollen, her skin bloomed in red.

Sam grins back but feels the pooling of tears in her eyes. “I

love you,” she says, noticing that the music has stopped.

Julia stares into her eyes. “I know. I mean, I really know.”

Sam touches her face. “Good.”

Julia lays her cheek on Sam’s abdomen. “I’ll never forget

this.” She looks at her. “Thank you.”

“No,” Sam says. “Thank you.”

A knock sounds from the door, startling them both. The

doorknob turns back and forth quickly but to no avail.

“Julia?” It was Vinny, Julia’s protégé.

“Shhh.” Julia laughs. “Maybe he’ll go away.”

Sam sits up, holding fast to Julia’s wrist. “I wish he

would.”

Julia gives her a smoldering look and leans in for a tender,

delicate kiss. “He will.” She moves her fingers deep inside Sam,

causing the sweet burning pressure to return.

More knocking. “Are you in there? Are you okay? I smell

smoke.”

Julia groans in obvious frustration. “I’m fine, Vinny. Give

me a moment, okay?”

“Doesn’t he go to lunch? I thought at least we’d have the

hour.”“Vinny doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep. He’s a machine.”

Sam grins lazily. “Like you?”

Julia kisses her again and removes her fingers. She stands

and brings Sam with her.

• 41 •

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“Maybe. But a different kind of machine.”

Sam laughs. “I’ll hold you to that, then.”

More knocking. “Julia, I’m really sorry, but Tokyo is on the

line—”

“Okay, Vinny. I’m on it.” She touches Sam’s face. “I’m

sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Not really.”

“So make it up to me.”

Julia raises an eyebrow as Sam slips back into her cold,

damp coat.

“Come home at a decent time tonight. And spend the

weekend with me.” She stuffs her bra and panties into her book

bag, along with her iPod.

“Okay. I will.”

Sam shivers and stands before her. They exchange another

soft kiss.

“I love you so much,” Julia says.

“I love you too.”

Julia glances at the candles. “What about those?”

“Keep them. They smell good and they’ll remind you of

me.” Sam picks up the rose. “Along with this.” She presses it

lightly to Julia’s lips. “Save it always.”

“I will.”

Sam walks away, tears in her eyes. When she reaches the

door, she turns and smiles.

“See you tonight.”

Julia nods, rose under her nose. “Tonight. And forever.”

Sam tugs the door open and Vinny nearly stumbles in. He

smiles and greets her but then suddenly blushes profusely. Sam

leaves him confused and walks in a daze to the elevator where

she rides alone to the lobby.

There are a few people coming and going, but it is still with

quiet.She holds her head high, her coat moist and teasing against

• 42 •

FLESH and BOnE

her bare skin. Her insides feel as though they’ve melted and the

heat radiates outward, keeping her warm. She smiles at the man

who holds the door for her, and when she steps out into the clear,

crisp breeze, she looks straight up once again.

The sky is healed, the sun strong, screened by a bright blue

sky. The street hums and buzzes, people walking, talking,

hurrying.

It is a beautiful day.

• 43 •

• 44 •

FLESH and BOnE

S iS FOR SEnSuaL

Come on, come on,” Stephanie urged, grabbing hold

of Camille’s arm to tug her up next to her. Satisfied,

she faced the door, threw her shoulders back, and rapped three

times. Then she paused, rapped two more times, paused again,

and gave another three raps. She grinned at Camille as if she’d

just communicated with life on Mars. Her eyebrows wiggled in a

“you’re not going to believe what I just told them” sort of way.

Camille knew that look all too well. They’d been in

Amsterdam a total of four days, and she’d seen and done more in

those four days than she’d done the past four months. Her friends

weren’t letting anything pass them by, including time itself. But

this, Camille looked around at the quaint little house nestled on a

quaint little street. This place seemed a little too normal. In fact,

if it weren’t for the presence of the always wheeling and dealing

Stephanie, Camille just might want to relax on that bench they’d

just walked past in the lush, beautiful garden and have a strong

cup of Dutch coffee with whoever lived here.

But Stephanie’s wink sucked that little dream right out of

her head. Something was going on. And why hadn’t Crystal and

Renee come along?

The doorknob clicked and turned and Stephanie bounced on

the balls of her feet. Camille’s heart rate accelerated a little as

the door was pulled open to reveal a petite blonde with shoulder-

length hair wearing a sleeveless white silk blouse and worn blue

• 45 •

ROnica BLack

jeans. A quiet contradiction. Her smile was warm and friendly

and her makeup was minimal. She waved them inside with soft

hellos and welcomes.

Stephanie bounded in with a toothy grin and then turned to

extend her arm toward Camille. “This is my very good friend,

Camille,” she said, as if Camille had not only landed on Mars

but had actually flown the spacecraft herself after years of elite

training, thus deeming her the best pilot on all of earth itself.

The woman eyed Camille quickly and gave her a soft but

curious smile, extending her hand.

“Welcome. My name is Anna.” Her accent was heavy but

her voice light and pleasant. Her eyes were prettier than blue ice.

Deeper.

Camille shook her hand and found it equally as warm and

pleasantly firm. Nothing was worse than a limp handshake.

“Cammy. Call me Cammy, please,” she stuttered. Anna only

smiled, and Stephanie all but bounded right back out the door.

“I gotta go,” she said, eyes suddenly fastened on her cell

phone.

“What? Wait,” Camille said, stepping to follow her. But

Stephanie jerked her head up, shaking it.

“No. You stay here. I’ll be back to get you in a few hours.”

“A few hours?” Suddenly that beautiful garden just outside

the front door seemed dangerous and alive, anxious to swallow

up the house and all those inside. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Stephanie grinned. “Just trust me, okay? You

wait here. Anna will take good care of you.” When Camille said

nothing, Stephanie’s grin faded. She looked serious, and serious

for Stephanie was rare. “Come on, Cammy, you need this.”

“Need what?”

“This.” Stephanie almost whispered it. As if it were a secret

and she didn’t want Anna to know.

“What is this exactly?” Camille was more confused than

ever and she was starting to feel more than a little anxious.

Stephanie sighed. “Just stay, okay? I’ll be back in a while.”

• 46 •

FLESH and BOnE

She held Camille’s eyes a little longer and then exited, cell phone

pressed to her ear, Nike Shox pressing on the stone path back

through the garden.

Camille was about to chase her when Anna spoke.

“Is fine,” she said softly, touching Camille on her forearm,

forcing her mind back from Stephanie. Anna pushed the door

closed and took her hand. “Come.”

They headed left and into a roomy sitting area where two

large chairs flanked the hearty stone fireplace. A hand-stitched

pillow sat centered in each chair. One said “liefde” and the other

said “ontwaken.” She didn’t know what either meant and she

wished she had her pocket dictionary, but Stephanie had insisted

that she bring nothing.

“Please sit,” Anna instructed. Camille eased herself into

one of the chairs and held the “wak” pillow in her lap. Anna

disappeared around the corner into what Camille assumed to be

the kitchen. She heard dishes clanking as she studied the room.

The floor resembled the fireplace, only with larger, more flush

stones. A red hand-stitched rug with an Indonesian influence sat

in the center, accenting the related artwork and pieces on the

nearby furniture.

On a colder day, Camille could easily imagine the room

flickering with warm fire and smelling of freshly cut wood and

apricot brandy. As if reading her mind, Anna returned carrying

a thick glass. She handed it over carefully, as if it were valuable

in ways Camille wasn’t aware. It was chilled, and as Camille

sipped she realized it was Coca-Cola and jenever. She’d tried

the local spirit their first day in Amsterdam and she recognized it

immediately.

It was strong, but Camille welcomed it, not realizing just

how thirsty she was from their bike ride over, weaving through

the maze of canals and tourists.

Anna watched her closely and encouraged another series of

drinks by tipping the bottom of the glass with the pad of her index

finger. It was a delicate gesture, deliberate and slow. As if Anna

• 47 •

ROnica BLack

were offering her finger along with the drink. Camille obliged,

taking a few more generous sips, but she cautioned herself, still

feeling the effects of the half pints of beer she’d had earlier.

“You are hungry?” Anna asked.

“No, no, thanks. I had some uh, patats earlier. Those French

fry things?”

Anna nodded and encouraged another drink.

When she was finished she held the glass out for Anna, who

placed it on a nearby end table. Then she held her hand out for

Camille. They stood and Camille followed her slowly to the

steep staircase. They ascended slowly, the old wood creaking

underfoot. Camille tried to imagine where they were headed, but

she could come up with no answers. Her head swam with liquor

and her body ached from days of bike riding and walking and

sleeping in a cozy little hostel on a hard bed.

She knew she should be reserved and concerned about what

she was doing there, but her current state of warm fuzziness and

fatigue wouldn’t allow it.

The floor creaked on the second level as well as they walked

a short way to a bathroom. Anna flicked on the light and shoved

a towel and washcloth into her arms.

“Now you bathe.”

Camille stared at the single sink, toilet, and small standing

shower. “Excuse me?”

“Do it and do it quickly.” Anna walked to the shower and

turned on the water. Steam rose and floated to Camille.

She started to ask why, but Anna shoved a folded satin robe

in her arms on top of the towel.

“Hurry. I explain later.”

She left Camille dumbfounded, closing the door behind her.

Camille stared a moment longer through the steam and then she

disrobed and stepped into the hot water. It felt wonderful on her

exhausted muscles and she could’ve stood there for days if not

for Anna’s instructions to hurry. So she soaped herself generously

and washed her hair. After rinsing, she emerged, dried herself,

• 48 •

FLESH and BOnE

and slipped into the robe. She folded her clothes and opened the

door.Anna was waiting. She took the clothes and tossed them

down a laundry chute behind a small door in the wall of the

bathroom. Then she took Camille’s hand and led her across the

hall to a large room facing the back of the house. Anna pushed

open the door and encouraged Camille to enter. The room was

plush with thick, deep maroon carpet, silk-covered walls, low

lamplight, and various lush-looking lounges in shades of soft

cream. It smelled of warm spice, just enough to comfort and not

overwhelm. A very large screen partition covered the far right

corner. Camille’s gaze fell back to Anna, who moved to the

antique bureau where she began lighting candles and arranging

bottles of what appeared to be oil.

Then she moved to the one window and firmly closed the

blinds. The room flickered in golds, as if alive and breathing.

Camille stood in the center, turning and looking. Her brain dizzied

and she rubbed her temple, overcome with the urge to lie down

on one of the lounges and sink to a fast, heated sleep.

But in a flash it seemed Anna was back at her side, hand

coasting lightly up and down Camille’s arm. She touched her

face and then trailed her hand down to her neck. Heat surged to

the surface of Camille’s skin, along with chill bumps. She was

hot and cold at the same time. A contradiction. Just like Anna’s

blouse and jeans.

Anna smiled, as if she’d heard Camille’s thoughts. She held

Camille’s face in her hands.

“Is okay.” Her eyes were sparkling in the wavering light.

Like light through a deep blue prism. She moved her hands lower,

running them over the robe. Up and down, soothing her, so much

so that Camille closed her eyes. Anna leaned in and placed a soft

kiss on her cheek, then her neck, and then breathed in and out

with warm breath.

“Is okay, Camille. You’re okay.” Her fingers went inside

Camille’s robe. Hot skin on skin and Camille breathed in deeply.

• 49 •

ROnica BLack

Her mind spun and her body surrendered, allowing Anna to slip

the robe off her body.

They both stood still, inhaling and exhaling. Camille opened

her eyes, felt her bare chest delight and then tighten under Anna’s

gaze. She tried to speak, but her lips were full and tingling. Anna’s

hands started again, running up and down, ever so lightly and

then all over, firmer and quicker.

Camille shuddered and inhaled sharply. Her nerve endings

were working despite her prominent buzz. She squeezed her legs

together, a new sensation pulsing between them. Lust. Want.

Desire.

Things she hadn’t felt in so long. What was happening?

“There,” Anna said. “You are beautiful. And you are ready.”

She took Camille’s hand and led her to a lounge, one that was

completely flat, and encouraged her to lie down.

The lounge seemed to embrace Camille as she lay back

slowly. Anna stroked her face and Camille exhaled fully, falling

into the imaginary arms of the lounge.

“Close your eyes,” Anna whispered. “Good girl.”

Camille willed her body to relax. She heard Anna move to

the far right corner of the room and then, just as she was about

to set to sea on her comfortably rocking boat, she heard the door

open.There was whispered movement, soft breathing, and then

strokes to her face again. A warm body sat flush against her right

leg, and when a new voice sounded, Camille opened her eyes.

“Hello, Camille.”

The voice wasn’t Anna’s and neither was the face. Camille

blinked, then blushed and tried to sit up.

“No, don’t,” the woman said gently, pressing Camille’s

shoulder. Her accent was different from Anna’s, her voice deeper

and more exotic, matching her eyes, which were a mesmerizing

hazel. Light blue with a warm brown circle around the pupils.

Like a marble, meeting but not melding.

• 50 •

FLESH and BOnE

“Call me Cammy,” was the only thing she could think to

say. A grin lifted a corner of her mouth. “I like Camille.” Her face

was angular yet beautifully feminine with a strong jaw, straight

Roman nose, and full but imperfect lips. A small dark freckle

danced above them when she spoke, teasing.

Camille blushed again, this time feeling it all the way down

to her bare chest. Her nipples contracted as if the air itself were

pinching and tugging them upward.

The woman’s eyes flicked over them and returned to

Camille’s face. The grin eased, but her eyes looked different, like

someone had struck a match beneath the surface, lighting them.

“I am Maria,” she said, her voice rich and assaulting,

sprinkling over Camille’s bare skin.

Camille tried to calm her breathing, to cool her heated skin,

but nothing worked. Maria was sitting next to her, watching her,

visually tasting and consuming her, setting her body afire without

a single touch.

“You are not what I expected,” Maria said, grinning again,

showing Camille a row of white teeth. One tooth sat slightly over

another and Camille found it beautiful and natural. She didn’t

like perfection when it came to beauty. She liked women. Real

women.

“You expected me? I mean, I didn’t even know where I was

going, or even where I am.”

Maria watched her closely and then ran a hand through her

dark-as-midnight hair. It was sharply layered and rested just

below her shoulders, showing off the elegant but strong column

of her neck.

She stood, showing Camille that she was taller and more

muscular than Anna, and walked to the bureau. She cinched the

belt on her long satin sky blue robe and rifled through one of the

top drawers for a cigarette. Bending, she lit it from the wick of a

candle and inhaled sharply. When she exhaled, she spoke.

• 51 •

ROnica BLack

“I expected you to be smaller. Weak looking. Like a

mouse.”

Camille sat up and hugged herself. “I don’t understand.”

Maria crossed to the window and opened it. She smoked

some more.

“You let your girlfriend of ten years sleep around on you.

You knew and you did nothing.”

Camille shook her head. “I—”

But Maria interrupted. “So you break up with her. Finally.

But you aren’t able to move on. Why is this?”

Heart pounding, Camille tried to think, to speak, to

rationalize. “I can’t stop thinking about her, about things.”

“So go back to her,” Maria said, waving a hand.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t trust her.”

Maria pointed the cigarette at her. “Okay then.” She took

one last inhalation and then tossed it out the window. Then she

closed the pane and walked to Camille.

She tilted her chin up and stared deep into her eyes.

“It is time to let go, then.”

“How do you know so much?” Camille whispered.

“Because I’m the one who’s going to fix it.”

Camille swallowed, her throat tight with emotion and an

anxious curiosity. “How?”

Maria’s hand slid over the satin of her own robe to the belt.

With a firm tug she loosened it and the robe slid from her shoulders

and fell to her feet, revealing a black, shiny leather corset. Laces

wove up the center leading to sheer covered breasts. Camille

stared at her with lust and wonder. Her heart thumped loudly and

she could feel it pounding in her neck.

“Like this,” Maria said, gliding her hand along Camille’s jaw,

pulling her up to stand. Maria bent her head and parted her lips.

The kiss was sudden and powerful, taking Camille completely

by surprise.

• 52 •

FLESH and BOnE

Maria’s lips were thick and warm, wet and smooth. They

conquered quickly, taking and sucking Camille’s as if they were

starving for her and only her.

Maria tasted of the clove from her fragrant cigarette. Warm

and spicy, like an embrace in the coldest and loneliest of worlds.

Her scent was something different, something familiar like CK

One. Musk, amber, rose, violet, and bergamot. Crisp and clean,

yet tantalizing with a hint of masculinity.

Camille groaned softly and felt her knees go weak. Maria

supported her, held her tight, and encouraged her with a thrust

of her tongue. Camille responded with her own, surprising

herself. They held fast, tongues swirling aggressively, Maria’s

hands grabbing her ass and back, squeezing as they moved up

and down. A flash of heat and a flood of moisture shot between

Camille’s legs and she found herself aching and throbbing and

trying to press against Maria’s thigh.

But Maria’s hand seemed to know this, gliding quickly

down Camille’s abdomen. When it reached her flesh, fingers

slid into her folds, causing her to yelp with pleasure and shock.

Maria stroked her quickly, all four fingers exploring, and then she

pulled her hand away, along with her mouth.

She left Camille breathless and dizzy.

“You are ready,” Maria said.

Camille swallowed and caught her breath. “Why do you

both keep saying that?”

To her right Anna reappeared from behind the partition

causing Camille to look twice. She wore a matching black corset,

deep red lipstick, and her thick golden hair was swept back into a

tight ponytail. Gone was her friendly smile. Her eyes still burned,

but her jaw was set and her cheekbones sharply defined. Camille

couldn’t help but stare.

Anna met her gaze briefly but her expression did not change.

She handed Maria a tasseled flogger and then returned to the

partition. Camille watched as she pushed it together and moved

it, exposing a tall black crucifix-looking object with extra arms

• 53 •

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and legs. She stared at it in confusion until Anna began adjusting

the cuffs on each end.

Camille inhaled quickly and swayed. Maria’s hand gently

gripped her upper arm. She smiled. Camille shook her head and

sat. Maria stood over her.

“You are ready for this, Camille.”

Camille said nothing; she kept looking back at the crucifix.

“Look at me,” Maria said. “Camille, look at me.”

Camille did so and she found her eyes sincere.

“This is not about that. This is about you. And me. And

Anna.”

“I don’t understand.”

Maria waited for Anna to return. When she did, they

embraced and both of them looked at her.

“This is for you. We are here for you.”

Camille didn’t know what to say.

“Are you not attracted to us?” Maria asked.

Camille straightened. “Yes.”

“Then forget the rest. Nothing else matters. All that matters

is you and us and this room. Right now.”

Maria held out her hand. Hesitantly, Camille took it and

stood.

“Are you ready to let go?”

Camille burned with desire and burned with resentment for

the past. She hated the way she felt, the way she’d felt for so

long.“Yes,” she said before she dared change her mind.

“Do you trust me?” Maria asked. “I will not hurt you,

Camille.”

Camille swallowed, nodded, and said, “Yes.”

Her heart tripled in rhythm.

“Good, now relax. I am going to mend you, body and soul.

If at any time you want me to stop, say ‘stop.’ Any other word I

will ignore.”

• 54 •

FLESH and BOnE

“Okay,” Camille breathed.

Maria turned to Anna and kissed her. It was a long, slow,

deep kiss, one that showed slips of tongue almost right away.

Camille watched in amazement as they kissed and sucked and

thrust and kissed some more. Hungry tongues and ravenous lips,

tugging, pulling, parting, and taking. Anna clung to Maria, arms

around her neck. Maria lifted her by the buttocks, holding her

firmly. Anna moaned, deeply but surrendering. She was ready,

and suddenly Camille understood what that meant. Anna was

ready, ready to let Maria take her. She could wait no longer, could

take no more.

They parted and Anna was breathless. Maria held her with

one arm and Anna gazed at her with beckoning surrender.

“Please,” she was saying without speaking. “Take me.”

Camille felt like a voyeur, but she was so turned on she

couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away. Maria looked at her, as if

feeling the heat of her stare. She released Anna and took a step

closer to Camille.

“Did you like that?” she asked.

Camille couldn’t speak. Anna approached her as well.

Maria’s fingers tickled her arm. She leaned in and whispered, “I

know you liked that.” And her tongue snaked out to caress her

ear. Chill bumps shot all over Camille’s body. Her nipples

gathered painfully and pointed upward, pleading to be touched.

Their call was answered when Anna dipped her head and took

the right one in her mouth. A hiss escaped Camille as the hot

wet mouth closed over her and sucked, wet, slick tongue not far

behind. It swirled along her bunched areola and flicked at her

thick nipple. Without thinking, Camille’s hand found the back of

Anna’s head where it clutched her ponytail and held her head in

place.Maria moved in further, kissing her mouth, her tongue

swirling in the same motion as Anna’s. Her left hand traced up

and down Camille’s hungry midsection, as if waiting for a dare

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to go lower. Up and down it went, winding Camille up with lust

and desire.

Insanity almost overtook her as Anna briefly pulled away to

lightly press her lips to Camille’s cheek and neck. Maria pulled

back as well and stared seriously into her eyes.

“It is time,” she said.

Sparks and tingles danced beneath the skin of Camille’s lips.

Her breast felt tight and alive, craving the air, the flickering of

the candles, anything and everything that could possibly touch

it.

Anna took her hand and Camille noticed the new dullness

of the lipstick. It made her lips look fuller and swollen, and there

were traces of the red on Maria’s lips and no doubt now on her

own as well. The notion aroused her as if it were blood and they

were three vampires feeding off one another.

She followed Anna slowly to the crucifix. The beating of

her heart no longer alarmed her. Its quick rhythm was part of her

now, a part of this. Whatever this was.

Anna guided her backward, pressing against the crucifix. It

felt cool against her skin, and when her arms were spread outward

she could tell it was covered in some sort of leather-like material.

Fear, anxiousness, and excitement coursed through her as Anna

tightened the cuffs along her wrists. More of it came when Anna

stepped up and wrapped a satin blindfold around her head. She

gave Camille a soft kiss just before she secured it over her eyes.

“Is okay,” she said again.

Camille stood quivering inwardly. Her pulse raced along

with her mind. But her body remained calm, limbs strong and

sturdy, sex wet and needing. She breathed deeply and strained

to hear.

She felt Anna nudge her legs apart and tighten the cuffs

along her ankles. Then she heard Maria speak from a few feet in

front of her.

“I want you to feel,” she said. “I do not want you to see or to

think. I want you to feel.”

• 56 •

FLESH and BOnE

She heard more movement and then felt a tickle along her

inner calf. Instinct told her to move her leg, but she couldn’t. The

tickle moved upward and then she felt another along her other

leg. “What is it?” she asked.

“Shh.”

Camille clamped her mouth shut and the tickling spread

to her inner thighs, causing more chill bumps to rise. The more

the tickle touched her, the more familiar it seemed. And when

it went up her body, circled her breasts, and touched her face,

she knew it was a feather. Two feathers. Two very large feathers.

But knowing what it was did nothing to quell the sensation. The

feather continued on, tickling and stroking, along her arms to her

fingertips and back up to her neck. Back down to her chest, around

her breasts and down her stomach. At her pubis both feathers

teased, mingling with her hair briefly before going around and

down to her thighs once more.

It continued like this several more times until her body was

straining for more touch. A light sweat had started along her

brow, and she bit her lower lip in an effort for control.

“Do you want more?” Maria asked.

“Yes,” she said quickly, the word tumbling out. At once, the

feathers started again, this time rounding her breasts in a circling

pattern, coming closer and closer to her nipples. Her muscles

tightened and she thrust her chest forward. The feathers finally

reached her and a soft cry came out of her and a shot of liquid-hot

pleasure flooded between her legs. Over and around the feathers

went, teasing and touching her exposed nipples. The lightest of

caresses, of flickers, of strokes. Like the purposeful breath of

Aphrodite upon the hungriest of skin.

She strained further, needing more, and the feathers went

lower. They reached her sex and circled again, coming closer and

closer. When they reached her they stroked her up and down,

ever so lightly touching her bare flesh. The sensation caused her

to tug harder in a spasm. Strange noises came from her throat.

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“Please,” she begged. “Please.” She tried to spread herself

open further, but she could not.

“Are you wanting more?” Maria asked.

She forced herself to swallow. “Yes. God, yes. Please.”

There was silence and the feathering stopped. Her thudding

pulse muffled any sound and then suddenly she felt fingers

between her legs. Her back straightened and her head pressed

back against the support. The fingers opened her and then she

felt the feathers once again. Brushing over her, painting her flesh,

driving her mad with want. She cried out, her voice rough and

weak. Over and over her they went. One lightly caressing, the

other pressing against her, painting her with her own arousal.

Then one feather rose back to her breasts, where it circled

and circled again. Her hands fisted and her toes curled and Maria

spoke softly to her.

“That is good, Camille. You are feeling now. Let yourself go.”

Camille panted, clenched her eyes despite the blindfold.

Her clit felt huge and hungry and she could imagine the tip of

it reaching out for the feather. The touching wasn’t near enough

and she knew it wasn’t meant to be. She tried to relax and ignore

it, but it was impossible. She tried to relax and tolerate it, but that

was equally impossible. Her body was a live wire, stripped and

exposed. And the feather meant to tease.

Just at the moment when she was ready to scream and shake

her head in an agony bordering on ecstasy, the fingers were

gone along with the feather. A shudder overcame her, one of

spent and still coiled energy. She could feel the cool sweat on

her brow seeping into her hairline. Her own breathing sounded

loud, adding a new instrument to the band consisting only of her

drumming heart.

Nearby, she managed to hear what she thought were whispers.

She strained to hear them, tugging on her cuffs and turning her

head to the side. Movement stirred before her and she smelled

Maria before she felt her.

• 58 •

FLESH and BOnE

“You ready for more?” Maria asked, leaning into Camille’s

ear and flicking the lobe with her tongue.

Camille nodded, unable to find her voice.

Fingers once again slipped inside her folds to explore. They

did so expertly, gliding along the sides of her clit before barely

dipping inside her hole.

“Yes, I’d say you’re ready.”

Maria kissed her roughly, tugging on her lips as her fingers

squeezed together and tugged on her clit.

Camille groaned in that sweet agony once again and then

Maria was gone. Camille blinked behind the blindfold, turning

her head, listening.

More movement came before her and she felt a small pocket

of heat close to her breast. She could feel Anna next to her, her

breathing hitting Camille’s upper shoulder. Then she felt what

could only be Maria in front of her, kneeling down to her thighs.

She felt hot breath on her inner thighs and then she felt a hot,

slick tongue tracing upward.

She tensed and moaned and then she heard Maria say, “Do

it.” A white-hot burning erupted down the middle of her chest,

slamming her head back, opening her mouth, and just before she

could scream, it was gone, numbed into a warmth so soft she

couldn’t describe it.

“What—what was that?” she panted.

“It is you feeling,” Maria said. “Like this.” Her fingers

spread Camille open.

Camille felt the tongue again, this time circling her clit. Just

like the feather it went. Around and around, closer and closer.

And then Maria licked her dead-on. Hot, heavy tongue

pressing and licking. Camille bucked despite the restraints. And

then Maria stopped and said, “Again.”

Camille braced herself and another hot, searing burn pierced

her right breast. She cried out and then relaxed as the burn ceased

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and once again warmed and enveloped. The tongue followed suit,

this time licking her dead-on right away.

“Oh fuck,” Camille rasped as it pressed and licked and

lapped and teased. “Oh fuck,” she said again.

“Again,” Maria called out, stopping only for a split second.

Camille braced herself, but she did not flinch. In fact, she

found herself shoving her chest outward, eager. The burning

came, this time on her left breast, and she cried out in ecstasy

rather than pain. Maria kept licking, up and down and then side to

side. She stopped only long enough to ask her if she liked it.

“Yes,” Camille said. “Yes.”

Maria rose then and kissed her full on, forcing her to taste

herself. Then she shoved her fingers inside her and bit her neck.

When she pulled back she said, “Yes, you do like it. But I think

you need more.”

The burning came again, this time all over her upper chest.

The flames went down toward her midsection and then cooled

within seconds. Maria’s fingers plunged inward and upward as

she demanded, “Again.”

More fierce burning, this time down her belly. But she no

longer cared. No longer felt the pain in a negative way. Instead

she welcomed it and welcomed Maria.

“Let it go, Camille. And invite the pleasure.”

“I am,” she rasped.

“Are you?” The burning came again, on top of the encasing

warmth.

“Yes—yes, I am.” And she was. There was nothing in her

mind but the present.

“Good,” Maria purred. “You are very wet,” she whispered.

“But not wet enough.”

She drew her fingers out slowly. Camille wanted to protest

but fought against it. She felt Anna leave her side, along with

Maria. When someone came back, she began picking at the

warmth on her chest. Peeling it off carefully.

“What is that?” Camille asked.

• 60 •

FLESH and BOnE

“Wax,” Anna said.

Camille strained like a giant exposed nerve as Anna cleaned

the wax off her skin. With the warmth of the wax gone, her

nipples contracted again and her body felt the cool air breathing

against it.

Anna said nothing further as she finished and moved away.

When she returned Camille could hear her squirting something

from a bottle. Warm hands began spreading something slick

along her body. Camille remembered the oil on the bureau and

closed her eyes as Anna rubbed it all over her. When she reached

her breasts she circled and then went over them lightly, squeezing

the nipples between two fingers. Camille hissed and bucked her

hips. Anna went lower, massaging the oil into her legs, down to

her feet and between her toes. Then she rose and oiled her arms

all the way to the fingertips. When she finished, she backed away

and Camille stood pulsing in the silence.

Someone approached and she tensed, waiting.

And then it happened. Something hot spattered across her

chest and stung. For an instant she thought Anna had returned

and was once again throwing hot wax on her. But this sensation

was different. It left her immediately and then burned again.

There was a noise as well. A sort of whipping. And suddenly she

remembered the flogger.

It came across her again, whipping her breasts. She made

a noise of pain and once again found herself pushing her chest

outward, hungry for more. That bittersweet agony came again

and again. Snapping across her skin, pecking her nipples,

slapping her areolas. Her noises grew stronger, louder. Begging

then demanding.

More lashes came, and she imagined her skin brimming with

redness, the blood seeking beneath and relishing under each strip

of leather. The beat of her heart became the beating of her skin.

Alive and wanting and needing.

She clenched her teeth as the switches went lower. She

growled when they whipped across her sex. She flinched with

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every blow, small peeks of her flesh getting bitten by the straps.

It was like flicking a terrible itch with your fingernail and then

pulling away.

Nothing was enough.

As her thighs stung, she felt who she assumed to be Anna

lowering herself between her legs. Hot breath was followed

closely by eager fingers that spread her open once again. Then

came the tongue. This one smaller but heavier. It flicked her clit

as the whipping flicked her breasts.

She wanted to tear the arms off the crucifix, it felt so good.

Painfully sweet lash after lash awakened her breasts while the

thick velvet little tongue played with her clit. She groaned, head

falling back, going from side to side. She pumped her hips as best

she could, needing more pressure, needing that final push to send

her into oblivion.

And then Maria called out, “Enough.” And all stopped.

Camille went slack and hung from the binds. Her body was

wound tight, but her mind couldn’t take much more. Sweat now

dripped from her temples and she was pretty sure it was beaded

on her body as well.

Her heart tripled over itself as she struggled to calm herself.

She thought about saying “stop,” but she didn’t want to give in.

And she didn’t want the pleasure to end.

The realization surprised her a bit. She’d never experimented

sexually before, and she’d never imagined herself in a scenario

even remotely close to this. Yet here she was and she was enjoying

it.

There was movement in the room before her and she stood

straight and tried to listen. To her surprise someone approached

and removed the blindfold. It was Anna. She did not smile but

she did touch her face and kiss her softly.

While Camille’s eyes were still closed from the kiss, Anna

moved to the restraints and loosened them. Camille opened her

eyes and dropped her wrists. She immediately rubbed them as

Anna loosened the ones around her ankles. When she was free,

• 62 •

FLESH and BOnE

Anna took her hand and led her to a lounge. This one had a long

back and a side. She brought Camille to stand before it and then

left her.

Camille waited quietly, but not for long.

“Are you ready to come, Camille?” Maria asked from

behind.

Camille blinked away some sweat. “Yes.” She did want to

come. So badly she thought she might lose her mind. But she

didn’t know what was in store for her next, and the anticipation

both frightened and excited her.

“Good,” Maria purred, moving against her. Camille felt

something wet and cool against her buttocks. Then she felt

Maria’s breath in her ear.

“Very good, Camille. It is time.” She ran her hands along

Camille’s sides and down to her hips. Cupping them, she said.

“Get on the couch on your hands and knees.”

Camille did so carefully, liking the way the creamy soft

material felt against her skin. With Anna’s help, she crawled onto

the lounge lengthwise so she was parallel with the long back. If

she had wanted to she could’ve lain down. She felt Maria climb

on behind her, and she readied herself as best she could for what

was next.

There was a brief silence and then she felt the wet cool

thing pressing into her opening, searching. When it found her

completely, it surged inside her and she cried out and arched her

back. Maria’s hands found her hips once again and they clung to

her, pulling her backward, fucking her harder.

“Oh God,” Camille said, feeling the burn of the cock as it

pushed against her walls and then tugged against them as it came

back out. “Oh—oh, God,” she said again as Maria drove into her,

fucking her faster. The cock plunged into her heatedly again and

again, burning and pressing and lunging and fucking. She was

gripping it like a vise, squeezing it tightly as it went in and out.

Her g-spot exploded into white-hot flames and the cock seemed

to grow bigger and longer and hotter.

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“Do you want to come?” Maria asked.

“Yes.” Oh God, so bad. So bad.

“Let go, Camille. Let it all go.”

“I—am,” she breathed.

“Louder,” Maria demanded, fucking her hot and deep and

fast. “I—am, I—oh God!” She came suddenly and her voice wasn’t

her own. It was lower, more primal, spawned from the deepest

recesses of her being. Her back arched, head tilted, mouth open.

Another series of flames shot down her back as Anna poured hot

wax down her spinal crevice. Camille screamed in ecstasy and

Maria kept fucking, forcing her hips back and forth.

“You want more?” Maria asked loudly while she was still

coming.

“Ye—es.”

Anna crawled on the lounge in front of Camille and lay

down on her back underneath her. Then she slid backward so that

Camille was staring down at her leather-covered crotch.

“Let her have you,” Maria said.

Camille spread her knees wider and lowered her hips, and at

once felt Anna’s mouth beneath her. She braced herself with her

arms and Maria continued to fuck her while Anna devoured her

aching flesh.

“Oh—my—God,” Camille said, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Oh—fuck.” The cock pummeled good and hard and Anna

sucked her, taking her clit into her mouth and bobbing as if she

were feeding.

“Oh—Jesus—fuck.” Camille rocked. The pleasure

intensified by the second and when she felt Anna’s tongue slip

over her encased clit she lost it and came again, this time so hard

she pushed herself up and Maria grabbed and twisted her nipples

from behind.

“Ohh—ahh!”

“That’s it, my girl. Let it all out,” Maria said.

• 64 •

FLESH and BOnE

“Oh God. Oh God.”

Camille rode it out, smearing herself all over Anna’s mouth

for what seemed like hours, while behind her Maria kept forcing

the cock in and out until she could obviously take no more.

Lungs desperate for air, Camille finally stilled and collapsed

onto Anna, who was still fastened to her sex.

She lay still for a few moments and felt Maria pull out of her.

Anna swirled her tongue and Camille jerked and lifted herself a

little. Maria came back behind her and she knew they weren’t

finished.

“Do you want Anna now?” Maria asked.

Camille pushed up on her elbows and noticed the zipper

lining Anna’s crotch. As she said yes she tugged it down and

found Anna’s bare flesh waiting. Behind her, Maria breathed on

her buttocks and encouraged her to lift them. Just as Camille’s

tongue hit Anna’s flesh, Maria’s mouth found hers. Camille

groaned and spread Anna open further, suddenly ravenous. She

found her flesh wet and tangy and she took her clit right away.

Anna moaned and began speaking in a language Camille couldn’t

understand. She slithered beneath her and Camille groaned into

her flesh as Maria’s tongue flattened against her and moved.

All three began moaning and panting in unison. Mouths

connected to flesh, smacking and licking. Anna continued to plea

in a different language and Camille sucked and licked harder,

shoving herself back into Maria’s mouth.

When Anna began repeating herself, she knew she was close

and she begged for more herself. “Now, oh God—please.” And

Maria licked her harder and faster, flicking the tip of her clit and

then assaulting it fully with the heavy weight of her tongue.

Camille burst through the night a split second before Anna

and they both cried out and rocked their hips. Camille licked her as

long as she could before once again collapsing, thighs trembling.

Beneath her Anna laughed, and she and Maria said something in

the same foreign language. Camille wished she knew what they

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were saying, but as she rolled off Anna she realized she didn’t

care. She lay pressed against the length of the lounge as both

women rose.

She found Maria watching her and she offered a small

smile.“She is not done,” Maria said.

Anna, too, looked at her.

Maria took off the strap-on and handed it to Anna, who

stepped into it and tightened it. Maria first wrapped her arms up

and under Camille and tugged her legs down. Camille lay on her

back, and she watched as Maria then came to sit behind her head.

Anna went to the other end where she climbed on and spread

Camille’s legs. Anna entered her with the cock and held fast

to her thighs. Camille closed her eyes and sighed, the burning

fullness a complete and total welcome.

Anna began to pump her, slowly at first, but then she found

a rhythm and pulled her harder, really fucking her good. Camille

opened her eyes and moaned and above her she saw Maria

straddling her face and easing herself down onto her.

Camille met her flesh with her tongue, and Maria rubbed

herself against it, whispering words Camille couldn’t make out.

Camille lifted her arms around Maria’s thighs and pulled her

down. She sucked her clit and swirled over it with her tongue.

Then she scooted back a bit and slid her tongue inside her. Maria

called out and bucked her hips. Camille tongue-fucked her long

and hard just as Anna fucked her below.

Maria rode her face, calling out frequently and urgently.

Then she demanded. “Have you let it go, Camille?”

Camille moaned, her own orgasm approaching.

“Are you ready to move on?”

Again, Camille moaned.

“Say it!” Maria demanded.

Camille wretched her mouth away. “Yes!”

“Say it again!”

The cock continued, faster and faster.

• 66 •

FLESH and BOnE

“Yes!” she shouted.

“Good, now show me with your mouth!”

Camille found her flesh once again, sucked hungrily at the

cool moisture dripping from it. Maria sucked in a quick breath,

laughed deviously, and shoved herself onto her.

“Yes, that’s it, Camille. Show me.” She moved her hips in

motion with Camille and she started to speak to Anna. “Give it to

her. Give it to her now as I come.”

Anna responded by slamming into her harder, grunting as

she pulled on her thighs.

And then Maria came hard, rubbing herself in a frenzied

spasm all over Camille’s face. And before she stopped she threw

herself down along Camille’s body and fastened her mouth to

Camille’s flesh.

Camille shut her eyes again and came as Maria’s tongue

found her and Anna’s cock filled her up so large and liquid hot.

She came hard, crying out into oblivion, taking all that she could,

never wanting it to stop, to end, to cease. She wanted to live in

that very moment for all time. There, there, there where nothing

mattered and nothing existed but pure floating pleasure.

She stayed there for a long while before she finally drifted

downward. Her heart thudded in her head and between her legs.

Maria rolled off her and sat next to her head, stroking her face.

Anna crawled between her legs to rest on her chest, cock still

inside her.

They lay in silence, with Maria’s soft strokes and Anna’s

heart beating against her own. The candlelight flickered and sang

a silent song, and Camille’s eyes fell closed and her body finally

completely relaxed. She was in her boat now, swaying softly, and

she fell back and rode it out to sea.

When she awoke she didn’t know where she was. Sunlight

slanted in through the bars of the blinds. She sat up and realized

she was on a soft lounge asleep on a pillow under a blanket. She

was nude.

On the bureau new candles sat in rows. And in the far corner

• 67 •

ROnica BLack

the partition stood, hiding the crucifix. Camille ran a hand through

her hair and stood.

She found her clothes on the bureau. Washed and neatly

folded. She dressed quickly and headed down the stairs. The

scent of fresh coffee met her halfway down. Anna met her at the

entrance to the kitchen.

“You are up early.” She had on a satin robe and offered

Camille a hot mug.

Camille flushed at the sight of her, and everything they’d

done the night before came rushing back. She held up a palm to

the coffee. Anna took a sip and grinned a bit, that familiar sparkle

in her deep ice eyes.

“You okay?”

Camille fought off another flush. “Yes.” She breathed deeply

and realized just how good she did feel. “I—yes. I feel really

good.” She smiled.

Anna returned it.

“Good.”

Camille ran another hand through her hair. “Thank you.”

She wasn’t sure if that was what she should say or not. “And tell

Maria thanks too.”

Anna grinned again. “No need. We enjoyed.”

Camille headed for the door, her skin erupting in flames

once again. When she reached it she pulled it open and found

Stephanie getting ready to knock.

“Well, look at you,” Stephanie said, slapping her on the

shoulder.

Camille ducked outside, head lowered in embarrassment.

She heard Stephanie speak to Anna for a brief moment as she

headed toward the stone path. Stephanie soon joined her.

“Have a good night?” Her grin was shit eating, as always.

Camille hid a grin of her own. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? I’d say so. You look like you ate way more than a

canary.”

“It was—good.”

• 68 •

FLESH and BOnE

Stephanie laughed.

“Better than good,” Camille added.

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

They reached their bicycles and as Camille was unlocking

hers a wooden sign in the garden caught her eyes. It said “De

Mender.”

She stared at it for a long moment and then looked to

Stephanie.

“Thanks,” she said as Stephanie straddled her bike. Stephanie

looked at her in surprise but then smiled.

“Don’t mention it.”

Camille boarded her bike and they set off down the road. As

the wind played with her hair Camille thought back to the words

on the sign. “De Mender.”

The Mender.

• 69 •

• 70 •

FLESH and BOnE

H iS FOR HigHER

The cheery ding of the elevator was nearly drowned out

by the beat of her racing heart. The doors slid apart

effortlessly, opening to a large viewing area and several beige

carpeted hallways. She exited quickly and averted her gaze from

the floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. She knew that beyond

the thick black glass twinkled the millions of lights of Las Vegas,

bright and colorful, beautiful and alluring. As hypnotizing as they

were, they did little to ease her tummy-tumbling vertigo.

She was now atop one of the largest hotel casinos in Vegas,

but she fisted her hands, trying not to think about it. Instead she

focused on the promise she’d been made, and with that in mind

she found her way to the correct room number and knocked. The

door was answered almost immediately and she was greeted with

a silent but deadly smile.

Broderick was a beautiful butch, one of those women who

went by their last names because their first names were too

femme. Half Asian with dark olive skin, green glass eyes, and

short dark hair, she stood about 5'6" and had toned arms with

eager biceps that popped every time she moved them. Her tank

top helped in that department this evening as she motioned for

Eve to come inside.

“You’re right on time,” Broderick said, her tone rich with

sinful intent. Eve stepped inside and returned the smile, her own

intentions already seeped with sin themselves.

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“I’m never late,” she said, her gaze sweeping the large room.

The lamp light was soft and low with the winking lights of the

city as a backdrop. The sofa and two chairs were pushed to one

side. And in the center sat an object about three feet high covered

in a sheet. She could make out what looked like handlebars, and

her stomach flipped with excitement.

“I hope for your sake you keep your promise,” Eve said,

wanting nothing less, as she crossed to the center of the room.

Broderick watched her, her eyes sparkling. “I never lie.”

Eve grinned. “Good to know.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Not right now, thank you.”

Broderick approached the object and ran her hand over the

sheet lightly. She held Eve’s gaze as she slowly circled it.

“I have only one rule,” she said. “And that’s that you remove

your clothes before she removes hers.”

Eve was amused by this and she agreed eagerly, starting

with her soft T-shirt, lifting it over her head. Then she lowered

the straps of her bra slowly, liking very much that Broderick

was watching her hungrily. When she was free of the straps she

unhooked the clasps and tossed the bra aside. Broderick licked

her lips as Eve’s nipples bunched and buoyed, exposed to the

night air.

“You’re stunning,” Broderick said, her cheekbones

crimsoning.

Eve merely smiled and started in on her khaki shorts. She

pushed them down and off and then hooked her thumbs under the

dark red panties she wore to match the bra. She was glad she did

because Broderick seemed to like them. A lot.

When she was finished she stood waiting, hands lightly

running over her skin. She was growing more excited by the

second with Broderick visually devouring her and the object

sitting and waiting between them.

“I don’t think I’ve been this apprehensive in a long while,”

Eve said.

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FLESH and BOnE

Broderick tore her gaze away from Eve’s breasts to meet her

eyes.“Me neither.” Her hands once again rested on the sheet,

and when she looked at it she urged the sheet off, revealing her

masterpiece one painful inch at a time before whipping the sheet

off completely and allowing it to drift to the floor.

Eve felt her breath escape her as she took it in. The object

became a machine and her mind hurried to understand it. The

base was wide and strong looking with much needed girth. That

led to what looked like a large saddle, well cushioned and covered

in a shiny vinyl. Down the center of the seat there was a long

hollow strip a few inches wide that she couldn’t quite figure out.

Handlebars came up off the front of it to support the rider, along

with two low-hanging stirrups.

Broderick began moving around the room, looking in a stack

of plastic storage drawers. Eve could see that Broderick kept

things lined up and in order. Moving her hand from left to right,

Broderick finally retrieved several small phallus-shaped objects

and brought them to her.

“Pick your poison.” She raised amused eyebrows. “They’re

for your anus. Don’t worry. Everything is sterilized and I always

use protection.”

Eve blinked quickly at the sight and at the words, but she

recovered just as quickly and chose. Broderick made a ticking

noise with her mouth and returned the other two back in the

drawer. Then she held a metal box in her hands and flipped a

switch. The machine made a noise and Eve watched as a strip

rose into the hollow of the saddle, showing off two screw ends.

Most of the strip was covered in matching vinyl, and it meshed

almost completely flush with the rest of the seat. Broderick took

the anal probe and screwed it in place. Eve watched and could

see that the metal strip had a tiny groove in it.

Broderick rose and went back to the drawers. This time she

opened the middle one and brought more phallic objects to her.

These were larger and clearly dildos and needed no explanation.

• 73 •

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Eve chose and watched as Broderick screwed that one in place

just ahead of the other. She went back to the metal box and moved

a small joystick. The anal probe and the dildo moved along the

groove, first farther apart and then closer together. She left them

about three inches apart. Then she dug in her pockets, fished out

two condoms, and slid them over the phalluses.

Then she messed again with the switches on the metal box.

Eve was surprised to see both the anal probe and dildo sink

into the hollow, leaving the strip empty once again. Then they

rose again halfway like secret rockets awaiting launch.

“Okay,” Broderick said, setting the metal box on the stack

of drawers. She rifled through the bottom drawer and came up

with a palm full of tiny clamps with spongy ends. Holding out

her hand, she again asked Eve to choose.

“For your clit,” she said.

Eve chose and Broderick connected it to a long cord. Then

she connected the remaining two clamps to two other cords.

Whistling, she returned to the metal box and began powering

everything up. Then she took Eve’s hand and led her to the

machine.

“Go ahead and climb on,” she said, helping her slip a foot

into the stirrup and swing her other leg over. “Insert the dildos

carefully and make yourself comfortable.” Eve eased down

slowly, allowing the larger phallus to enter her an inch at a time.

The condoms were lubricated so it made insertion a bit easier.

Then she eased down her backside and her chest and throat

tightened as the smaller phallus went into her anus.

“Good, now relax,” Broderick said softly.

Eve exhaled long and slow and sank fully onto the seat.

Broderick was studying her closely and she flipped a lever,

causing the saddle to slide backward a bit while the base remained

in place.

The saddle was even more comfortable than it appeared

to be, with a well-cushioned bottom and sides. Eve was soon

completely relaxed and ready for more. She gripped the handlebars

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FLESH and BOnE

and placed her other foot in the remaining stirrup and watched

as Broderick adjusted the length for her. Then she grabbed the

clamps and handed one to Eve.

“Place this on your clit.”

Eve took it, noting the soft, spongy clips. Spreading herself

with her free hand, she carefully placed the clamp along her clit

and released it for closure. The pressure was strong but not painful.

She felt herself swell, causing more pleasurable pressure.

“These are for your nipples,” Broderick said, handing her

the other two. Eve placed them on her nipples and released, and

the same firm pressure squeezed her.

Her spine straightened as a rush of skin-tickling desire came

over her.

Broderick took a long, slow look. Her eyes flickered with

desire and the crimson on her cheeks plumed and grew. Eve

could sense the elevated beating of her heart even from a few

feet away.

“I’m all yours,” Eve whispered, already imagining what all

this machine was going to do for her.

Broderick seemed lost in her own world for a moment but

then she blinked and walked to her metal box. Holding it in her

hands, she looked at Eve and asked, “Are you ready for the best

orgasm you’ve ever had?”

Eve licked her lips and revved the handlebars as if to

accelerate, remembering their earlier conversation in the hotel

bar. When it came to sex she had no limits. And she’d tried

everything under the sun and behind the moon, searching for

that ultimate orgasm, the one she’d never forget. The one that

would take her as high as she could possibly go. Broderick had

understood this, more so than the other attendees at the ultimate

sex toy convention.

“I’m ready.”

With a tilted grin Broderick flipped the first of numerous

switches and Eve instantly felt the buzz on her nipples. Another

chill swept over her as her breasts bunched and puckered. Then

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Broderick hit another switch and more buzzing vibrated her clit.

Eve gripped the handlebars and moved her hips, the buzzing

intense.

“It’s too much,” she said, wanting to strip it off. But

Broderick slowed the speed and Eve sighed and her back relaxed.

She closed her eyes as the buzzing spread outward from her clit,

sending pings of pleasure through her body. She moaned in deep

delight and thought how very much she’d like to have one of

these for home.

Broderick seemed to sense her growing pleasure and slowed

it down even more. Eve opened her eyes in protest, but Broderick

only smiled and fingered another switch. A deep groan escaped

Eve’s tightening throat as both the dildo and the anal probe were

pushed into her fully. Her toes curled and her abdomen tightened.

Strange cramps burned in the muscles just above her knees.

Broderick cooed to her, encouraging her to relax. She

switched on another button, and this time vibrations reverberated

throughout the entire saddle. Eve clung to the handlebars, and

with every minuscule movement of the vibrations, both phalluses

settled further in her.

She began to groan softly, in short, small grunts. To her

surprise, the anal phallus began to please her before the dildo.

The pressure and vibration of it stirred her in ways she had

trouble describing. Deeper, it seemed, and more guttural and

animalistic. Touching her and reaching her in a place that caused

almost silly, childlike responses. It was pure pleasure in its most

human, primitive form.

And then she felt the dildo as the seat began to slide back

and forth. It impaled her with its fullness, hot and firm. Back

and forth and back and forth. Her pussy tightened around it, held

it secure, her wet tissue clinging and clamping. The vibrations

hummed and buzzed through her and then came back down, her

crotch the focal point. Her noises grew in length and in sound, in

rhythm with the back-and-forth motion of the saddle.

Broderick watched with what could only be voyeuristic

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FLESH and BOnE

delight. Her eyes glistened, her skin glowed, and she breathed

sporadically with her lips full and parted. She held the metal box

securely, her fingers moving as if deciphering Braille, her sight

unnecessary.

With a quick inhalation, she flicked her finger, and the clamp

on Eve’s clitoris buzzed stronger, sending her into a mad frenzy

of jerks and groans. Eyes closed tightly, she wrung the handlebars

and flexed her legs in the stirrups.

Pleasurable heat pulsed from her clit, vagina, and anus. In

powerful waves, in all shapes and sizes, forming from different

sensations. Vibration, penetration, friction, pressure, fullness,

and motion. All of it saturating her nerve endings relentlessly,

rocketing to every inch of her body and drowning her brain in

sugary, thick ecstasy.

She called out, control of her body darting away from her.

“It’s coming. It’s coming fast.” She squinted and bit her lower

lip, trying desperately to slow the oncoming climax. This mesh of

sensations was so good she wanted it to last. It was the evolution

of pleasure, a great clay ball of all different colors, formed by

hand. It was rolling through her now, so fast. So damn fast.

“Mmm, God. Ah God. It’s coming.”

“Just say the word and it’s yours,” Broderick said.

Eve struggled for breath, for words. Her mind worked hard,

submerged in the liquid pleasure. She had it all now. Right now.

Between her legs and pinching her nipples. There was only one

thing missing.

She spoke. “I want you. I want you to feel it with me.”

Broderick stood very still, her glistening eyes softening with

thought. Her fingers finally moved, slowing first the clit clamp

and then the vibration of her saddle. Eve’s bones tingled, and she

loosened her grip and fell limp into the rhythm of the back-and-

forth sliding of the saddle.

Her heart stuttered along hurriedly in her chest and she

breathed deeply to slow it. Broderick lowered the box and moved

one of the large overstuffed chairs. She grunted as she pushed

• 77 •

ROnica BLack

it into place right across from Eve. Then with eyes fastened

to Eve, she began to slowly undress. She started with her tank

top, slipping it off over her head. Her breasts were small with

large, thick, dark nipples. They clustered as if caressed by the air.

Next she lowered her jeans and tossed them aside, leaving her

completely nude except for a pair of white Calvin Klein boxer

briefs. Her hands eased into the sides and slid them down and

off. Eve swept over her with her gaze, loving how toned and

muscular she was with strong, curved legs, abs that looked

pinched in from the sides, and hard arms and shoulders.

“Yes,” Eve said. “Yes.”

Broderick bent and retrieved three more cords. She plugged

them in quickly and dug in the plastic stack of drawers. Her back

and shoulders flexed as she screwed on the chosen clamps. Her

ass had the carved look of a sculpture, with a scooped indention

in the side of each cheek. Her ass was paler than the rest of her.

With the clamps connected, Broderick moved back to the

chair and sat, the cords sliding across the floor with her. Eve

watched closely, swaying with the saddle, deftly controlling

her breathing and her pleasure by slightly lifting herself in the

stirrups each time it tried to build.

She found Broderick enticingly beautiful, and a rush of lust

flooded her body when her host spread her legs over the thick

armrests, exposing her dark, neatly trimmed center. Wetness

reflected the low light and Eve licked her lips as Broderick

opened herself further with her fingers and attached the clamp.

Her abs tightened from the new pressure and she then attached

the remaining two to her nipples. Again, her muscles tightened

and her breasts flushed red and strained.

Broderick reached for the metal box that sat on a small table

next to the chair. Dancing fingers set Eve alive again, first with

the saddle vibrations and then with the clit and nipple buzzing. To

her added delight the dildo began its movement as well, sliding

up and down just a few inches every other second. She clenched

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FLESH and BOnE

her fingers, toes, and eyelids as the different sensations met and

mingled and multiplied once again. Her body seemed to melt

upon the seat, oozing around the phalluses. The burning of their

fullness seared through her, into her ass, her belly, and into her

heart, forcing it to double over in pounding. She rocked harder,

urging the saddle on.

Broderick answered by anchoring the dildo in its full

upward position and speeding up the back-and-forth motion of

the saddle. Eve let out a deep, amorous laugh and she groaned

when Broderick flicked her own switches, jerking as her own

clamps came to life.

“Yes,” Eve said again. “Feel it with me.”

Broderick pressed her lips together and her eyes narrowed in

pleasure, showing slits of lush lime green. The clamp buzzed on

her clit, vibrating the surrounding wet pink flesh. A pool of arousal

had already formed at her hole and Eve longed to penetrate her,

imagined doing so with her tongue.

“Come with me, Broderick,” Eve whispered, her voice

ragged. “Please.”

Broderick moaned and small whimpers began to come from

her mouth. “Uh, uh, siiis, uh.” The plume of red on her cheeks and

on her breasts spread, meeting in the middle at her neck where

her pulse was visible and racing. She arched her back and spread

her legs further, pointing her toes. More sounds came, quicker

and shorter. Her fingers flew over the switches, and she turned

both Eve’s and hers higher.

Eve cried out and laughed again. Giddy and hot and alive.

She gripped the handlebars harder, pressed her body down further

at the complete mercy of the saddle. Swimming in the hot tide of

pleasure, she began to talk dirty, something she always did when

she went out that deep, feet kicking at nothing but pleasure.

“Ah yeah. Ah, fuck yeah. Feels so good, baby. Feels so fucking

good.” Again the laughter, her head thrown back, an offering to

the pleasure god. “I don’t want it to stop. Fuck no. I love it. Love

how good it makes me feel.” She focused on Broderick, stared at

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ROnica BLack

the vibrating flesh between her legs. Looked deep into her now

flaming eyes. Listened to her quick cries of ecstasy.

“Yes, baby. Don’t make it stop. Ah God. It’s the best. The

best ever. The dick, the one in my ass, ah God, my clit. Fuck. Ah

God. So good. It feels hot and full. It’s fucking me. I’m riding it

and it’s fucking me. Do you feel it? Tell me you can feel it.”

“I—can—I can feel it.” Her fingers moved some and they

both cried out as the buzzing reached an all-time high.

“Ahh, ah God yes!” Eve let out. She threw her head back

again and groaned. “Yes, yes, yes. Give it to me. Give me the best

one ever.” She again looked to Broderick. “Did you hear me?

Give me the best one ever.”

Broderick stared at her, her eyes open but weighted with

pleasure. “Here it is,” she said, upping it one last time.

Eve called out to heaven above, screamed toward the ceiling

as her clit burst into a million pieces of hot pleasure and soared

into her body. Her legs kicked out, stirrups stretched. Walls of

pleasure came. Big, thick, and warm, moving right through her,

reaching into her bones along the way.

Then she heard Broderick cry out from the chair, her neck

strained, her own mouth toward the ceiling. Eve stared at her wet,

red flesh, at the movement of it, at the way her hips bucked off

the cushion, demanding more.

And then Eve came again, this time the burning shot out

from her vagina where it clung and squeezed down on the dildo.

She shouted again and rocked on the saddle and then the buzzing

on her clit collided with the dildo and she came a third time.

And then, when she thought there couldn’t be anything greater,

a fourth climax came from deep inside her ass. She bucked and

rocked and tried to call out, but her throat was full of bristles.

Guttural groans and high, strained noises fell from her as she

gripped and rode and fucked, her body bursting into an energy

hotter than fire.

“This—is the—best—ev—er,” she said, never wanting it to

end. She rode on, melting further onto the seat, insisting on every

• 80 •

FLESH and BOnE

last centimeter of pleasure. Broderick watched her, her own cries

full of life. Eve closed her eyes, and as the last of the pleasure

moved through her, she felt herself drift. Her body was liquid

and heavy, but her mind and soul were light. She floated above

herself, felt the pleasure in every last molecule of her being. So

great that she only saw a bright white light. Nothing else existed.

Only this energy. And the energy lasted a sweet fucking eternity.

“Oh God,” she said, coming down. “Oh my fucking God.”

She meshed back into her flesh and opened her eyes. Broderick

was silent and her fingers slowed things down. First the buzzing

on the clit and then the vibrating of the saddle. Then she slowed the

back-and-forth motion and retracted the phalluses a few inches.

Sweat lined the dips in her abs and the dip in her collarbone. Her

eyes shone.

Eve released the handlebars and flexed her sore fingers. She

also removed her feet from the stirrups and noticed the redness

along her soles. When she looked back at Broderick she was still

breathless. She smiled.

“You were right,” she managed, clearing her rough throat.

“You didn’t lie.”

Broderick grinned and removed the clamp from her clit and

her nipples. Carefully, she stood and walked to Eve and kissed

her softly.

“No, I didn’t. And I have another truth to tell you,” she

whispered.

“What’s that?” Eve asked.

Broderick ran a smooth finger along Eve’s arm. “It’s even

better the second time around.”

• 81 •

• 82 •

FLESH and BOnE

a iS FOR animaL

The deep Southern sun was high in the sky, warming the

back of Catherine’s neck, beading a light sweat along

her brow. The barn before her was quiet, tall, and strong with

faded red boards and an old tin roof. The door was closed but not

completely, and it squeaked with the wind. In the near distance

she could hear the chimes cling and clang from the front porch

of the two story white clapboard house where the missus and

the boss man lived. It sounded eerie yet comforting, reinforcing

the fact that there was no one else around. The old Chevy had

sputtered off a few minutes before, leaving a spiraling trail of

dust behind it.

Forcing herself to swallow the rising lump in her throat, she

pulled open the barn door and stepped inside. Closing it quickly,

she stood in silence and willed her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Scent came before sight. Hay, moist earth and wood, manure,

and gasoline. She loved the barn and sought refuge there often

when she needed to lie down in the stiff hay and wink the world

good-bye for a while. But it also was the place for something

else. And every time she set foot inside it, her blood burned and

pushed against her skin. She rubbed her arms nervously, her

body already awakening. The smell of the barn and the sound of

the disappearing sputtering truck was to her like the sound of a

scraping bowl to a hungry dog.

• 83 •

ROnica BLack

She ran the back of her hand across her mouth, already

tasting what it was she was after.

Light seeped in through the slats of wood, casting a yellow

hue upon the bales of hay, some of them oozing into lazy piles

toward the back center of the barn. To her immediate left sat one

of the tractors, along with two push lawn mowers for the grass

around the house, and one old Model T that no longer ran. Beyond

them were a few stalls, one of them occupied with Ma Bella, the

old cow. She could hear her scuffing in the distance.

Squinting, she tried to see further into the dim barn, more

toward the right where sawhorses sat and tools hung from the

walls. She saw her then. The missus. Standing alone and quiet,

turned away from her, hands running lightly across the large thick

wooden workbench.

Catherine walked further inside, heart beating madly.

“Is he…gone?” the missus asked.

“Yes.”

Catherine took a few more steps, eyes trained on the missus’s

pale green housedress. Her long brown hair was pulled back into

a tight bun and her feet were covered in simple sandals. She

didn’t turn to look at Catherine but rather kept staring at the table,

running her elegant fingers across the grain of the wood.

“Are you all right?” Catherine asked. “Missus?”

“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it when you call me that.”

She looked at Catherine for the first time. Her eyes were chestnut

brown and brimming with emotion. She looked back to her hands,

her posture still perfect. “I know it’s what he wants you to call us,

that it’s good Southern manners, but I don’t like it.”

“Okay.”

And then she continued, her nerves showing by changing the

subject. “I wasn’t sure if he was gone. I was just in here checking

on Ma and—”

Catherine could wait no longer. She stepped behind her,

pressed her body against her, and inhaled the freshly scrubbed

Ivory soap scent of her. “Helen,” she whispered.

• 84 •

FLESH and BOnE

Helen responded at once, at first stiffening but then sighing

and falling back into her arms.

“Catherine, please,” she breathed.

Catherine closed her eyes as her hands found Helen’s hips

and her lips found the delicate flesh of her neck. Helen mumbled

meekly and whispered, “Oh God.”

Catherine’s hands moved up, cupping and squeezing Helen’s

breasts. They were free and buoyant under the dress, just as they

were every Wednesday afternoon.

Catherine massaged eagerly, her passion growing with every

second. The hot blood came, rushing through Catherine, as if it

would burst through her skin. Helen’s skin seemed to heat too,

and Catherine bit her then, hard and quick. Helen gasped and

turned to her, kissing her full-on with firm, warm lips. She pulled

away before Catherine had time to react, touching Catherine’s

face with trembling hands.

“You—I—I don’t know what to do, how to stop this. I pray and

I pray, yet all I think about is you.” Her eyes searched Catherine’s

in desperation, her fingers quivering across Catherine’s lips.

“I love the sound of my name on your lips, the sound of you

crying it out, oh God. Oh God, forgive me.” Knotting her hands

in Catherine’s hair, she tugged her in for another kiss. Her lips

searched Catherine’s just as her eyes had. Seeking an answer

Catherine knew she’d never find.

Why? What did it mean? But none of it mattered. It never

mattered once they touched.

The heat Catherine had felt before came rushing back,

boiling her blood, and she returned the kiss, sucking with her lips

and probing with her tongue. Helen responded with a loud groan

and she leaned completely into her as if her legs had turned to

mush, anchoring her hands into her hair. The kiss turned more

voracious, mouths pressed tightly together, lips parted wide,

tongues swirling deeply.

That same something came over Catherine again, growing

into that deep-seated, powerful need she experienced each time

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they were together. Like the insatiable drive of a predator after

its prey. It was what she was meant to do. What her existence

was all about. Instinctual and involuntary. Words she never truly

understood until she touched Helen.

She had to have her, would kill to have her, would cross the

deserts and swim the oceans, leap over mountains. She would

do it all endlessly if she knew that Helen was waiting for her,

somewhere, somehow. Her scent, her taste, the softness of her

skin, the sound of her sighs, the vibration of her cries. She would

die for it.

Hurriedly, Catherine lifted Helen off the ground by her

buttocks. A short, high-pitched “ope” sound came from her, but

Helen held tight and quickly wrapped her legs around Catherine

as she was carried to the large hay pile in the back of the barn.

Boots scuffing along the floor, Catherine hurried as best she

could, and when she reached the pile she headed straight into it

to above her knees and collapsed upon her.

“Hurry,” Helen pleaded.

Catherine held her face, felt the heat from her skin.

With a yearning so fierce she nearly cried, Catherine kissed

her. The collision was hot and hungry, tongues darting and

demanding right away. Teeth met teeth, the kissing so vehement

and intense, their mouths devouring at a maddening pace.

Catherine forced her weight on her fully, thrusting up to control

the kiss, shoving her tongue in completely, conquering. Helen

moaned and clung to her back, raking her nails down the thin

cotton T-shirt. The burning tear of her skin urged Catherine on

and she pressed her thigh between Helen’s legs.

“Oh. Oh, Cath—” Helen murmured, turning her head away

from the kiss. Catherine looked down at her with a gaze so hot

she thought she’d burn her. Helen narrowed her eyes in heavy

lust and moved her hands to Catherine’s front where her fingers

curled underneath the collar of the shirt. A quick splitting tear

pierced the air as she ripped with all her strength. The shirt hung

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FLESH and BOnE

jaggedly to her lower abdomen, her tiny breasts puckering, keen

for attention.

“You’re so beautiful,” Helen whispered, lowering her hands

to tear the rest open. She pushed the shirt off Catherine’s shoulders

and tossed it aside. Then she fastened her mouth to Catherine’s

neck while her hands held and massaged the bare breasts.

The sensation was like being lost in the ice and snow and then

coming upon the grandest, hottest fire that ever burned. Hands so

soft they had to be an angel’s. Mouth so hot and hungry it had to

be the devil’s. Both loved her and touched her and devoured her.

She rocked in a heavy rhythm, caught up in a luscious purgatory.

And then Helen moved her mouth lower to where her hands had

been, taking in each breast for a long, generous kiss, sucking

madly while sweeping her tongue graciously over her nipples.

Catherine cried out and pushed up on her arms, pelvis thrust

down and onto Helen.

She arched powerfully, offering herself to Helen, loving the

way she feasted and bestowed pleasure upon her aching breasts.

Each hot, slippery caress traveled quickly to that spot between

her legs and grew there, pulsing with the beat of her heart.

Catherine pressed into her a few moments longer and then

she dropped and pinned Helen’s arms by her side. Panting for

breath, she lowered herself along Helen’s body and released her

arms to shove her dress up hurriedly. She found her bare legs

and kissed them eagerly, gliding along her upper thighs to her

center.

Helen gripped her hair and squeezed. She hissed as Catherine

moved to her cotton panties, using her mouth to kiss through the

moist fabric.

“God in heaven,” Helen said, knotting her hair tighter and

tighter. “Uh! Oh sweet God.”

Catherine urged her tongue along the cotton, her face

heating with wild desire. She could feel Helen’s wetness, feel

the firmness of the peaks and valleys of her collected flesh. She

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kissed her harder, knowing it was where she herself was dying to

be touched. Where they both began and ended, their middle, their

center. Their most sensitive, sensual place.

When she caught the hot, moist, tangy scent of her, Catherine

growled and felt that elemental stirring raking across her insides.

Having Helen in her mouth was her sole objective, her reason for

breathing. She often imagined someone coming upon them as

she fed, and she envisioned how she would tear her mouth away

to bare her teeth at them and snarl as she swung her clawed hand.

Like a beast protecting its kill. Helen was hers, if not for all of

eternity, then for at least an hour every Wednesday afternoon.

Nothing was going to take that away from her.

With frenzied hands, Catherine tugged down the panties,

stripping them from around Helen’s ankles. Dropping them upon

the golden hay, she stared at Helen, mesmerized by the dancing

dust particles sprinkling over her. A noise caught in her throat and

her breathing came in quick rasps.

Helen’s beauty was beyond anything Catherine had ever

witnessed. Simple, slight, sweet. Yet complicated, emotional,

and passionate.

She kissed and bit back up the pale legs, running her tongue

over the light downy hairs on her upper thighs. Helen tensed,

fingers intertwined into Catherine’s hair, her own head held off

the hay, watching her closely.

Catherine kept licking and kissing and nibbling, relishing

in the scent of her, the feel of her, the quick tightening of her

muscles beneath the skin. Her tongue hit the thicker hair and

skimmed over the top of it, seeking the bare flesh. She found it in

an instant and licked the length of it firmly.

“Uh, ah, sweet Jesus,” Helen called out softly, gripping

Catherine’s head harder, holding her to her.

She licked again, up and down and up and down. Then she

opened her further with gentle fingers and licked her some more.

She paused between each lick, savoring the taste of her. Tangy

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FLESH and BOnE

sweet and heavy like honey. Enough was not fast coming, and

she continued, focusing on the small cleft in the upper center. She

licked it hard and firm at first and then quickened, flicking it from

side to side, sending Helen into a small fit of jerky motions and

unbelievable sounds.

She panted and begged and called Catherine’s name. She

trembled and shook and groaned deeply, head thrown back, neck

arched and flexed, veins prominent like thick strings of thread.

Her reactions were like the sweetest of music and the sound of

dying prey. They lifted Catherine’s soul and yet drove her to latch

on and devour further. She took the elevated flesh into her mouth

and sucked, using her tongue to thrust against the flesh with each

tug inward. Helen reacted at once, nearly sitting up off the hay.

“Oh God, Catherine. Yes, oh God, yes.”

And then she howled into the dancing dust particles

and swayed back and forth, eyes shut and fingers clenched in

Catherine’s hair. A warm, slick rush of liquid pressed into

Catherine’s chin and she savored it, rubbing it along her face and

lips as Helen’s cries softened and silenced.

Loving the taste, Catherine ran her tongue along her own

lips and swallowed. She flicked at the cleft once again and Helen

yelped with sensitivity, pulling her up. Catherine crawled atop

her. Helen looked at her with wide eyes. She raised a quaking

hand to her face. “God help me, I can’t get enough of you.”

Catherine knew that line all too well. Helen often fought

internally over their affair, questioning herself and her devotion

to her husband and God.

“I can’t understand it or describe it,” Helen said.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I don’t ever want you to stop.”

“Do you want me inside you?”

There was a gasp and she closed her eyes. “Yes.”

Helen readily spread her legs and Catherine lay on her side

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next to her. Then, finding her slick hole easily, she thrust two

fingers inside. Helen called out, not in words at first but in sound.

And then, soon after, the words came.

“I can’t control how bad I want you.”

“Then don’t try.” Catherine went in harder and deeper,

rocking her own body along with each thrust. Helen was wet but

tight. So tight it almost hurt her fingers. It only drove her desire

further. Beyond human need.

“It feels so right,” Helen said, opening her eyes and gripping

Catherine’s arm. “Dear God, you feel so right.”

Catherine kissed her, mouths open and pressed together,

tongues and lips teasing. They breathed together, inhaling and

exhaling each other’s breath. When Helen moaned, Catherine

took it in. When Helen tensed, Catherine fucked her harder.

“Please,” Helen breathed. She fumbled hurriedly at

Catherine’s blue jeans, loosening them and shoving them down

a bit. Catherine watched and waited with bated breath, and she

almost screamed in rapture when Helen found her bare flesh.

Helen’s eyes grew wide with wonder and then narrowed

with desire. “You feel so good. So wet.”

“It’s what you do to me,” Catherine rasped. Helen had never

touched her there before and the control she’d tried to hold on to

quickly rushed out of her body, forced by her racing blood.

“Oh God,” Catherine whispered, climbing to her knees.

“Oh, yes, darling. Look at how beautiful you are.” Helen

watched her closely, her eyes searching, brimming with heat.

Catherine shoved into Helen harder, bending her fingers.

Helen cried out and then bit her bottom lip as she too slid her

fingers inside.

They both groaned in unison at the full, tight, burning

sensation. And they fell into a quick rhythm, fucking each other

with ardent fingers.

“Do you like it?” Helen asked.

“Yes.”

• 90 •

FLESH and BOnE

“It feels so good,” Helen said amidst more groans.

“Yes.”

Catherine clenched her eyes and rocked. Then she opened

them and stared into Helen’s eyes.

“Watching you take pleasure…it’s so different,” Helen said.

“I want to give it to you so badly. I would do anything to give it

to you.”

Catherine couldn’t speak. She knew all too well.

“Oh, this is heaven, this is bliss, Catherine. Oh God, I can’t

take much more. Kiss me. Kiss me now.”

Catherine bent and kissed her. Lips finding and taking right

away, tongues adamant and demanding. With tightly squeezed

fingers Catherine pummeled into her. She pumped as hard as

she could and tensed as Helen did the same back. They grunted

and groaned and sweated. Fucked like animals in the hay, madly

giving and taking, allowing the raw desire for each other to

overcome their minds and their bodies.

Catherine’s small breasts swayed in the rhythm, puckering

in the golden light. She wanted desperately to tear away the

pale green dress, but she didn’t dare. Just like she didn’t dare to

leave any marks along her neckline. This was their time and she

needed their time like she needed air to breathe. She wouldn’t do

anything to risk that.

She bent again and took Helen’s mouth with her own. They

both came then, fingers fucking hard and firm and fast. They

moaned into one another, eyes tightly closed, bodies tight, centers

clenched.

Harder and harder Catherine went, rocking into her and

pressing down on her. For an instant the hay felt and looked like

a golden cloud. Way up high in the light of some distant sunset.

Catherine could taste Helen’s skin, feel it in her mouth, feel her

wet muscle like walls around her fingers. She consumed it all,

knowing she could never get enough.

And then she fell back down, rushing back to the barn floor,

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nestled in the hay. Their bodies stilled, save for heavy breathing.

Catherine removed her fingers slowly and Helen sat up and did

the same. The hay glowed in the sunlight and it smelled warmer

and sweeter than before. Ma Bella mooed from her stall nearby.

Helen pulled on her panties and crawled to her knees. Her

hands and eyes swept over Catherine’s bare chest. Catherine

inhaled sharply at the touch.

“Stand up,” Helen said, her voice lower but thick with

strength.

Catherine stood and reached for the waistband of her blue

jeans. But Helen stopped her, grabbing her hands. She looked up

at her from her knees. “I want you in my mouth.”

In the far distance Catherine heard the old Chevy sputtering

back down the road toward the house.

“No, he’s coming back. He’s early.”

“I don’t care.” Helen held her hands and pressed her face

into Catherine’s open jeans. Her tongue found Catherine quickly

where it began a hurried assault of her clitoris. Catherine jerked

and hissed, but the truck sputtered closer.

“Helen, we can’t. He—he’s coming.”

But Helen kept on, holding firm to Catherine’s hands. She

groaned into her flesh, whispered words of lust and desire. She

flicked her tongue harder and heavier, begged Catherine to climax

in her mouth.

“Let me have it, Catherine. I want it so badly,” she said,

looking up as her jaw worked and her tongue vibrated.

Heart pounding, flesh craving, Catherine gripped Helen’s

head and shoved herself against her. Helen moaned with further

delight and Catherine swayed into her, loving the feel of her head

bobbing between her legs. The climax hit just as the truck pulled

next to the barn, engine sputtering loudly. Catherine cried out

hoarsely, fucking Helen’s mouth.

Helen extended her tongue and moved her head from side to

side slowly, relishing every last bit.

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“Oh God, Catherine.” She smacked her lips. “You must let

me do that again.”

She stood and straightened her dress while Catherine hurriedly

buttoned her jeans. Loose strands of brown hair fell clumsily

along Helen’s face. There was hay stuck in various places. Her

lips were dark and swollen, her dress wrinkled. Outside, the truck

engine died and the door squeaked open and closed. The boss

man went toward the house, hollering for Helen.

“Meet me here again tonight,” Helen whispered, still trying

to smooth herself free of hay and wrinkles.

Catherine scooped up the remains of her shirt and held

them in front of her chest. Luckily, her sack full of clothes was

stashed in one of the empty stalls. But her attention went at once

to Helen’s request.

“It’s too risky.” She’d seen the boss man’s temper and she

wouldn’t be the cause of him laying a hand on Helen.

“Then when? I can’t wait until next Wednesday. I’ll—I’ll

die.”Catherine touched her face and kissed her swollen lips. “I

know.” God, did she know.

The door to the house slammed and the boss man was

walking toward the barn, still calling for Helen.

“You better go,” Catherine whispered.

“I don’t want to.”

“Go.”

“What’s happening to me?” she called out, her voice soft but

frightened.

Catherine moved away from her and hurried into Ma Bella’s

stall. She crouched there, back near her swatting tail as the barn

door opened.

“I’ve been calling you,” she heard the boss man say.

“Have you? I’m sorry. I was just busy with Ma Bella.”

There was a brief silence. Then he spoke again.

“What’s wrong with you? You look like a wild animal.”

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More silence. Then softly. “I am.”

But the boss man didn’t seem to hear it. Instead, he moved

back out the door, saying, “I need my work boots and they’re not

in my truck.”

Helen seemed to linger a moment and Catherine heard her

say softly again, “I am.”

• 94 •

FLESH and BOnE

n iS FOR nEvER

I went to her that evening, when the entire sky was

a pale yellow, fresh from a driving storm, set out to dry

in the setting sun. She was sitting in her Adirondack

chair, hair piled loosely upon her head, blue eyes

flashing with contrariety. She was astonished to see me,

yet knew at once why I was there. Thumb in her book to

mark her place, she folded the corner of the page and

set it aside. The words “What are you—” jumbled out

of her just before I reached her. Quickly, I straddled

her on the chair and watched as her eyes went wide

with something that looked like fear and wonder mixed

together. I took her face in my hands, and there in the

cool damp setting of the sun, I dipped my head and

kissed her.

Professor Susan Abbot lowered the page, hands and heart

trembling. Her mind went back to five hours before when the

very same words had caused a commotion in the roomy lecture

hall. Whoops and whistles had rung out; a young man named

Julio Garcia had stood and pumped his fist.

“Sit down, Mr. Garcia,” she’d said, after clearing her tight

throat.

After a long “what did I do” look, he sat with a defiant grin,

high-fiving the young man next to him.

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As the class quieted down, all eyes refocused on the lone

figure standing in the back, holding her papers with long, elegant

fingers.

Susan had spoken again, though barely able to. “Thank you,

Tia.”“But I’m not finished.” Her voice was as calm and as even as

ever. Her aquamarine eyes focused on Susan as if there were no

other person in the world, much less the roomy lecture hall.

“That’s enough for now.” Susan had been unable to handle

hearing any more. And even now, in the quiet of her own home,

she wondered just how much more she could take. She drew

another long sip of her wine and curled her legs beneath her. She

studied each word and ran her fingers over them as if they were

raised and made of soft velour.

How could someone so young write the words that sang to

her heart? It was impossible. Tia was only expressing her own

feelings; it had nothing to do with her. And yet she couldn’t help

but wonder…

She rested her head against the chair and allowed her eyes

to drift closed. Tia’s face came to her. Pale like a cold winter

sky with piercing blue green eyes. Thick dark lashes that fanned

when she blinked. Her lips were the color of crushed pink velvet,

a warm smile forever teasing at the corners. There was depth in

her gaze, an ease in her movements, a calm in her soul.

Susan breathed deeply and her heart rate accelerated a little

more as she imagined what it would be like to take those lips

of crushed pink velvet into her mouth. Would they feel like the

finest of satin, warmed by the rays of the sun?

She had asked herself that very same question five hours

ago when her students had all hurried from the lecture hall and

Tia had approached her desk to turn in the paper. Susan had been

frazzled by her stare, knocking her own satchel off the edge of

the desk, spilling papers and folders along the floor. She and Tia

had both bent to retrieve them at the same time, knocking heads.

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FLESH and BOnE

And as Susan had examined Tia, ensuring she was okay, her

gaze had fallen upon those lips and the thoughts and late night

fantasies had come suddenly and relentlessly. And in the next

instant, in the complete acceptance and understanding she saw in

Tia’s eyes, tears had threatened to come.

She opened her eyes back to the present. As she reached for

her wineglass, her eyes skimmed the framed picture illuminated

by the lamplight.

Her heart leapt to her throat and then plummeted to her

stomach. She winced. The pain was still so great. Oh God. Tears

pooled in her eyes, not enough to run over, but just enough to

sting. She gulped at the rest of the wine and rose to pad into the

kitchen.

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

When would the pain go away? Sometimes she felt so lost she

found herself wandering about the house, aimless and numb.

She knuckled away the brimming tears and pulled the cork

from the wine bottle. The dark liquid chugged into the glass

and she took a sip quickly and then inhaled deeply. She made

her way back to her chair and had just set her glass down when

the doorbell rang. Straightening, she looked to the clock on the

fireplace mantel.

It was after eight. And she wasn’t expecting anyone.

The doorbell rang again and she crossed the room to the

front door. She tried to peek through the side window, but she

could see nothing. Thinking that it might be Dora from across the

street searching for her cat, she opened the door.

To her great amazement, Tia stood looking back at her. Susan

blinked, not quite sure if she was real.

“Hi.” Tia smiled slightly.

“Uh, hello.”

Tia had her hands in her coat pockets and she was rocking

back on her heels as if to keep herself warm in the cold.

“Can I come in?” Her breath billowed out in small clouds.

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Susan blinked again and Tia leaned forward a bit. “Please?”

She fanned those eyelashes, and Susan saw the crescent-shaped

mark below her eye where they had collided earlier in the day.

“Your eye, I’m so sorry.” It had been dark red earlier. Now it

had deepened to a blackish purple.

“It’s okay, really. Can I please come in?”

Susan snapped awake from her dumbfounded trance and

stepped back, swinging open the door. “Yes, please.” The words

sputtered out like water from a fussy spigot. Tia didn’t seem to

notice, though, sweeping a quick hand over her head to remove

her knit cap. Her short dark hair framed her finely boned face in

long, well-maneuvered layers. Short in the back and longer on

top and on the sides, just over her ears. She unwound her scarf as

Susan closed the door.

“Here, let me take those.” Susan took the scarf and cap and

waited as Tia slid out of her navy pea coat. Then she hung them

next to her own on a shelf of coat hooks along the wall. When she

turned back toward Tia she found her gazing around the room,

one hand in her jeans pocket. Her cheeks were tinged from the

cold, and she wore a tight-fitting gray thermal shirt.

“It suits you, you know?” Tia said.

Susan came to stand next to her. “What does?”

“Your house. All the wood and stained glass. Very arts and

crafts.”

“Oh, yes, I guess it does. I really like it.” The truth was that

she’d spent years refurbishing it. It was her haven.

“You um, you sort of ran out on me today,” Tia said, meeting

her gaze.

Susan suddenly felt hot. “I’m sorry about that.” They’d

collided and Susan had focused on Tia’s lips and then almost

broken down in tears. She’d panicked and shoved everything into

her satchel and then bolted from the room.

Tia smiled once again so easy and free that if the grin had

fallen off her face, it would’ve been perfectly content surviving

all on its own. “I didn’t come for an apology.”

• 98 •

FLESH and BOnE

Susan felt flustered all over again. Forcing her hands to

remain at her sides, she walked into the sitting room and offered

Tia a seat. Tia accepted and made a request.

“That wine looks good,” she said, eyeing the glass. “If that’s

okay with you.”

Susan hesitated a moment but then nodded and hurried into

the kitchen. As she poured, she saw Tia bend and retrieve the

papers from the chair. Eyeing them, she walked into the kitchen.

She had found her own paper.

“So what did you think?”

Susan blushed profusely and stared at the wine bottle,

wishing she could jump inside and hide. How does she do this

to me? She cleared her throat and forced herself to sound calm,

almost lighthearted.

“It’s good. It’s very good.”

Tia ran her eyes over it and moved her lips in silence. Then

she looked up and Susan could almost see the Caribbean sea of

her eyes swell with waves. Something profound was about to

come from her lips.

“I wrote—I mean, I wrote it—”

Oh God, she’s going to say it. She’s going to say she wrote

it for me.

But Tia faltered and let her words hang and eventually fall.

Obviously rattled, she dug in her back pocket and produced a

cream-colored envelope.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you. I was going to do it

today, but you left in such a hurry.”

She held it out for Susan, who handed over the wine. Tia

sipped heartily and Susan couldn’t help but watch as it darkened

the pale pink of her lips. Blushing again, she focused on the

envelope and noted that it was shaped like a greeting card. She

slid open the seal and pulled out a soft pastel-colored card. As

she read, her breath caught and tears filled her eyes. Her hands

shook as she lowered the card. Tia watched her closely, blinking

her lashes very slowly.

• 99 •

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“Thank you,” Susan whispered.

“I wanted you to know how sorry I am. Fitz was really

special, and I know how hard it must be for you.”

Susan wiped away spilling tears. “Yes, it hasn’t been easy.”

“He was something,” Tia said softly, sipping more of her

wine.Susan wiped away more tears and moved back into the

sitting room. Tia followed and eased herself into the neighboring

chair and watched as Susan perched on her own.

“There’s another reason I came,” Tia said, eyes flashing in

the lamplight. She held her glass carefully and Susan stared at the

thick silver ring on her middle finger.

“Oh?”

Tia took another long sip and set her glass aside. Then she

rose and crossed to the entryway to dig in her coat. She slipped

her hand inside the pocket and retrieved what looked like a small

book.Susan drank more wine as she waited.

Tia approached cautiously, her eyes intense and almost…

shy. “What is it?” Susan asked, wondering what could’ve come

over her so suddenly. But then her gaze fell on the book in Tia’s

hand.Susan stood, alarmed. Her heart sank to her feet and then

went wild like a jackhammer behind her ribs.

“It must’ve fallen out of your bag,” Tia said softly.

Susan stepped backward, her feet searching for safe ground.

Tia kept coming, book held out, eyes penetrating Susan’s soul.

“You left and it was lying open just under the desk. I wasn’t

sure what it was at first, so I—I read.” She stopped her forward

motion and stared. Her delicate face had fallen a bit and her

neck was patched with red as if she were nervous. She licked

her lips quickly. “I’m sorry. Had I known what it was, I wouldn’t

have…”

• 100 •

FLESH and BOnE

Susan braced herself with a hand against the wall. Her sitting

room spun. Tia placed the journal on the end table and wiped her

palms on her jeans. For the first time since Susan had laid eyes

on her, the young woman seemed embarrassed and unsure. She

stood looking at Susan in an uncertain way. Staring into her eyes

and then looking away quickly.

Susan wanted to run, to retreat to her bedroom and close

the world out. Her haven no longer was the keeper of her most

intimate thoughts. The outside had crept in. How could this have

happened? She swore never to let it happen. And yet it had. In

the haste and confusion of morning madness, she must’ve put the

journal into her satchel along with a stack of graded papers. She

inwardly cursed herself for her carelessness.

Susan’s breath hitched again as the panic and reality of the

situation crawled over her body like a hungry vine. She covered

her mouth with her hand and fought off sobbing. She couldn’t

speak; she had no idea what to say or if she was even able to

form words at all. Embarrassment, shame, grief, and the horrible

feeling of being exposed, it all bombarded her mind.

Tia held her gaze. Then she ran a nervous hand through her

hair and took a couple of steps forward. But then she stopped,

took another step, and then retracted. Taking a long, deep breath,

she stepped forward again, and in a rush of fluid movement she

said, “I’ll go, but first I have to do this.”

And then she was reaching to cup Susan’s jaw with her

right hand. Susan saw the velvet petal lips, the clear intensity of

her eyes, the delicate shutter of her lashes. And then, like a soft

breath, she felt her.

There was a slight heat, clement like, a gentle, tender giving

of wet, thick silk. Susan fell into it at once, her knees nearly

crumbling. A sound like a sigh to God escaped from her, and

Tia pressed further, giving more of her lips, offering Susan a gift

beyond her wildest imagination.

And suddenly, it hit her.

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Tia knew.

The journal was full of Susan’s thoughts and feelings

regarding Tia’s words and her mind and her body. Oh God, she

knows. Oh God, she can kiss. Susan’s world was spinning faster

and unraveling even quicker.

“Wait, no, I—”

Tia stopped and pulled away. She searched Susan’s eyes.

“This. Can’t. Happen,” Susan said, hating every word.

“Why not?” Tia asked softly, kissing her lightly and then

pulling away again.

Susan pushed on her shoulders in a helpless attempt to hold

her at bay. “Because you’re my student.”

Tia wasn’t fazed. “For two more weeks.” She grazed her

thumb along Susan’s cheek. “And I already have a ninety-eight

percent and my final paper finished.”

Susan struggled to find more reasons. There had to be more.

“You’re so young, I couldn’t possibly—”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Oh? I thought you were much younger—”

“You’re running out of reasons.”

Susan closed her mouth and came up with one more.

“I swore I would never get involved with a student.” There,

that would do it. Her career-long declaration.

But Tia only grinned. “Never say never.”

Susan stared in disbelief. The jackhammering of her heart

started again. Tia moved in closer, her eyes fastened to Susan’s

mouth.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” she whispered.

Susan let out a soft cry, a whimper of desperation.

“Hurry.” The word came out on a hush, shocking them both.

Tia responded by pushing into her and breathing along her neck.

Susan’s skin came alive and she could imagine millions of tiny

hands reaching out, desperate for Tia’s touch. Tia moved slowly,

breathing upon her shoulder, up to her neck, over to Susan’s

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FLESH and BOnE

jawline. When she reached her lips, Susan watched as Tia’s eyes

fell shut and her head tilted. Susan then closed her own eyes and

welcomed the kiss.

Heavy, slick lips connected with hers, opening and closing.

Susan kissed her back tentatively at first, tugging slightly. Tia

moaned and her tongue reached out, hot and slick, begging for

permission to enter. The feel of it sent shock waves of lust down

her spine and she stiffened, clutching Tia’s short hair.

“Wait,” she breathed. She still wasn’t sure. Wait, yes, she

was.Tia held Susan’s face. She stared hard into her eyes, her

breathing rapid. She swallowed, licked her lips hurriedly, and

said, “If you’re going to tell me no, then tell me now. Because if

you don’t and we continue, I’m telling you right now, I might not

be able to stop.”

Susan inhaled a shaky breath, lost in her eyes.

“It would kill me,” Tia whispered.

“Okay,” she breathed.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank God.” Tia pressed into her again and this time

Susan wrapped her arms around her shoulders and held tight. Her

hot tongue came, and Susan took it eagerly, sucking it into her

mouth and then using her own to explore in return. Over and over

they kissed, Tia’s mouth so sultry and sugary.

Soon that sweet mouth was on Susan’s neck and Susan held

on to her tightly, gasping in sheer surprise and pleasure each time

Tia bit and sucked.

“Take me to your bedroom,” Tia said, breathing into her ear.

Gooseflesh erupted all over Susan’s body and she dug her nails

into Tia’s back.

Getting a brief control over herself she said, “This way,”

and took her hand. She led them down the short hallway and into

her room. She stood before the bed in the gray light. Tia looked

• 103 •

ROnica BLack

around at the queen-sized bed and dresser. Then she went to the

wall and flipped on the light. Susan hugged herself as if it had

caressed her.

“I want to be able to see you.”

Susan swallowed. I want to see you too.

Tia stripped off her shirt and flexed her jaw. Her small breasts

contracted, the rouge nipples thick and firm. Susan caught her

breath at the sight.

Tia ran her hands over her own body, exciting her crinkled

breasts even more.

“I’ve thought of you, Susan. So many times. The words I’ve

written, they were written for you. About you. Did you know

that? Yes, I think you knew.” She drew her hand down to her

jeans and unbuttoned all the way down the fly. She wore no

panties. “Here.” She took Susan’s hand and pushed it into her

pants. “I want you to feel what you do to me.”

Susan gasped first, feeling Tia’s bare skin beneath her hand.

When she reached the slick gathering of flesh, she gasped again

and Tia jerked and narrowed her eyes with desire.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Feel me.”

“I feel you,” Susan whispered.

“You feel how wet I am.”

Susan dipped her fingers in the slick arousal and stroked her.

“Yes.”

“Do you know that’s because of you?” Her eyes were nearly

closed, her pulse jumping in her neck.

“Yes.”

“Ssst, ah, ah, yes. What you do to me, Susan. I want to feel

you.” Hurriedly, she slipped Susan’s sweater off over her head.

Then she ran her palms over the front of her bra and unhooked

the clasp between her breasts. Her eyes grew wide as the bra slid

from Susan’s shoulders.

The night air and light caressed Susan for real this time, and

her breasts responded by tightening. Tia dipped her head and took

one in her mouth. Susan arched into her, massaging Tia’s breasts

• 104 •

FLESH and BOnE

in return. Then Tia moved her hands lower and straightened. She

undid Susan’s jeans, allowing her flattened hand to glide inside.

A short cry came from Susan as the long fingers hit her flesh.

She clung to Tia for support and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Ah, yes, so wet.” Tia leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I

have dreamt of this moment. And I know you have too.”

Susan moaned and returned her hand to Tia’s bare flesh and

they rubbed and slid over each other together, hands down one

another’s pants.

Tia kissed her and flicked and teased with her tongue. Susan

did the same and their tongues played just as their fingers did, to

the point where they could no longer stand.

Tia kicked off her shoes and they shed their jeans. Susan

stripped off her panties and they both removed their socks. They

stood looking at one another in the lamplight. Their eyes burning

trails all over their bare skin.

“You are beyond beautiful,” Susan said. She could’ve never

accurately imagined Tia like this. The creamy flawlessness of her

skin, the curve of her hips, the tight, deep pink of her areolas.

When she moved, the muscles in her legs showed, and Susan

couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. “You’re like a dancer,” she

whispered.

“I am a dancer,” she said, coming in for another kiss.

Carefully, she eased Susan back onto the bed. They slid up and

stripped back the covers. Tia lay on top of her and maneuvered the

sheet around her waist. She straddled Susan’s thigh and moved

back and forth.

Susan watched in amazement as Tia’s upper body moved

in the low light. She could feel the slick heat of her flesh on her

leg. “This feels so good,” Tia said. “Feeling you beneath me.”

She bent for a kiss and seared her tongue into Susan’s mouth.

Then she sat back up and eased her hand along Susan’s thigh to

her center. She teased her flesh with her fingers and then shot

inside her.

• 105 •

ROnica BLack

Susan strained upward and groaned, the fingers pushing

through every cell in her body. “Tia,” she said.

“I’m right here.”

“Tia,” she said again, and Tia bent and kissed her, pressing

her back against the bed.

“I feel you,” she said between passionate, long, pulling

kisses. “Feel me inside you.” She began to pump her fingers.

“Come with me inside you.” She fastened to her neck, surging

into her. “Come, Susan. Come for me.”

Susan groaned in ecstasy and her body flexed and tightened.

She ran her nails down Tia’s back.

Tia devoured her with her mouth, rubbing her nude body all

over Susan’s. She smelled of plumeria and rich shampoo. And

she was there in her bed and in her body. Loving her, taking her,

giving to her.

“Ah God, you feel so good,” Tia said.

Susan held her tight and closed her eyes as the pleasure

mounted. Tia seemed to sense it and she pressed into her harder.

“Come, baby, that’s it. Come.”

It came and it came, closer and closer as if responding to

every word. Susan clung tighter, closed her eyes, and then it hit

her, and she strained and cried out and Tia bit her neck and twirled

her tongue in her ear and said that she loved her. She loved her

and she was beautiful and she was everything and, yes, baby, take

it, take all of me.

And then it was gone, just as quickly as it had come. It left

Susan lying there, hands still pressed into Tia’s back. She held

her close and inhaled her neck and hair. She felt her heartbeat and

heard every breath.

Tia laughed softly in her ear and sat up. She started to move

again.

“Give me your hands,” she said gently.

Susan did and Tia clung to them as she rode against her

thigh. Susan locked her arms and watched as she quickened her

• 106 •

FLESH and BOnE

hips and slid over her own arousal. Her eyes gleamed like tinder

and she moaned in delight.

“I’m coming now, Susan. Oh, Susan, here I come. Oh, oh

God.” Faster and faster she moved, her hips on autopilot, whipping

and jerking back and forth. Hot, slick wetness ran down Susan’s

thigh, and Tia pushed harder and then she said, “Here I—” and

she cried out and arched her back and shouted to the ceiling. She

rocked and rocked and she said I love you again and Susan told

her the same and watched in sheer wonder as she slowed and then

stopped and then collapsed upon her once again.

“I love you,” Susan whispered, knowing she’d never seen

anyone so thoroughly beautiful, inside and out.

“I know,” Tia said softly. “I read every word.”

Susan warmed and blushed. She tugged her closer. “I did

too.”

• 107 •

• 108 •

FLESH and BOnE

d iS FOR daRing

Name?”My face flushed with heat. She wanted my name,

my credit card, my identity. I wished for the hundredth time that

I could do this from the privacy and safety of my office. But

it was too risky. The computer wanted everything the flower

girl currently did. The only difference was that the flower girl

accepted my anonymity just as readily as she accepted my cold

hard cash.

She had probably seen dozens like me. Nervous, fidgety,

anonymous. Many of us probably adulterers, playing Russian

roulette with our intimate lives.

“The receiver’s name is Cartwright,” I finally managed, the

guilt starting to eat away at me like hundreds of tiny morally

starved piranhas. “Emily Cartwright.”

I’m not an adulterer. I’m not married…but Emily is.

The name burned through me and caused my cool hidden

blood to heat and pound with a purpose, showing itself just beneath

my skin. I glanced around anxiously, half expecting bloodthirsty

husbands to come crawling out from the walls, dying to puncture

my veins and suck the life from me. Fuck.

The girl and her eyebrow pegged me as if she knew every

detail of my situation and she strongly disapproved. I nearly

melted on the spot, my body was so hot and alive with infatuation

and fear. Infatuation for a woman I barely knew and fear of the

consequences of getting caught.

• 109 •

ROnica BLack

“Address?”

Emily’s home address flashed through my head. I knew it by

heart. Knew everything there was to know about her by heart.

No. Can’t do it. Too risky.

“Two thirteen Willow Avenue. Suite one hundred.”

Cartwright and Associates, to be exact. The place where I

made my living.

“Three dozen long-stemmed roses. Red. The darkest red we

have.” She repeated my specific order and then waited for me to

nod. “I’ll send them out right away.”

I drove back to the office, anxious and nearly dizzy with the

anticipation. The two previous times I’d ordered her roses I’d

been too chicken shit to watch her receive them. Today, however,

I couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing.

Panic crept up my spine at the thought of my actions making

Emily uncomfortable. Even though I had made it clear in my

very first letter to her that it wasn’t my intention to be intrusive in

any way, it still worried me. It was my biggest fear, next to being

exposed.

I wanted her to feel special, beautiful, respected,

appreciated.

From the comfort of anonymity, I could voice all these

things. What I felt, thought, wanted. I was safe here. In complete

control. There was no rejection, no expectations, no hurt. It was

just me, romancing a woman with all my heart and soul, without

risking my heart and soul.

I’d done nothing but think of her for a year straight before I

acted on my desires. My thoughts drifted back to when it had all

begun. Val, one of the other partners, had come to a screeching

halt outside my door one afternoon. She was breathless, her eyes

wide.“It’s Emily,” was all she said.

We ran down the hallway, and I heard the commotion before

I saw it. Glass breaking, wood splintering. Her office door was

ajar, and Emily stood in silence, gripping the remnants of a

• 110 •

FLESH and BOnE

broken picture frame. Her chest rose and fell quickly and she

spoke without looking, knowing we were there.

“I’m fine.” But her voice was trembling. After a moment of

silence, she brought her pained eyes up to meet ours. They were

piercing gray and so full of pain it reminded me of a thunderhead

ready to burst with a summer storm. When she spoke again, I

almost readied myself for the crack of thunder. But she surprised

me with her simple statement. “I’m filing for divorce.”

It was all she needed to say. I understood, and what I didn’t

know, Val soon clued me in on. Jack had been caught with his

hand in the cookie jar, their finances were in ruins, and Emily

wanted out. Jack, though, didn’t seem to want to let go.

I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to give Emily up either.

And thus began my mad attempt to woo her from afar. I felt she

needed me, needed my words, my thoughts, my feelings.

I only hoped I was right.

I held onto that thought as I entered Cartwright and

Associates. The office was quiet and my secretary Prairie was

probably outside enjoying a smoke. I sank down into the leather

chair behind my desk. Thinking about Emily always put me in a

trance, and I drifted comfortably in that warm place where only

she and I existed.

My mind heavy with the thought of her, I began writing

down random thoughts with a pencil. Bits of the next letter or

poem.My hand worked furiously as the images came. Emily had

become everything to me. I would sacrifice anything, everything

to see her happy, see her smile, see her feel the love that I had

for her.

If she only knew.

But ultimately, she couldn’t know.

A figure stepped into the doorway and I glanced up, expecting

to see Prairie and her hair-sprayed helmet of bottle-platinum hair.

I nearly choked when I caught sight of the woman staring me

down with her cool gray eyes. Emily gave a slight smile, and my

• 111 •

ROnica BLack

system struggled to adjust to seeing her for the first time that day.

She stood all confidence and carved beauty, a shoulder leaning

casually on the luckiest fucking doorjamb on the planet. One

would never know by her presence that she was hurting deep

inside. She was a strong woman. Brave and breathtaking.

“Am I interrupting?”

Oh God, yes. Every single time you step into my world.

“No, of course not.”

She took a step in and my eyes couldn’t help but travel up

and down her tailored slacks and fitted blouse. I immediately

envisioned what I always thought she would wear underneath.

What I had written down on the piece of paper under my hand.

Emily,

Red.

Lace.

Rich like velvet.

Dark and smooth and satin.

Teasingly covering her creamy skin in seductive webs

of deep ruby.

My lips sucking through the satin lingerie.

Her neck, arching and showing itself, paling from the

moonlight as her head tilts back in pleasure.

Her hair, cascading over her shoulders like ocean

waves inked by night.

Red.

Clinging to her skin.

Dark and moist from my mouth.

Red.

“I was wondering if you were working on the Meyer file?”

My brain screamed back from my world of ripe, racy red.

“No.” I blinked a few times too fast, afraid that she would be

able to see the secret thoughts in my eyes. “I don’t think so.”

You don’t think so?

• 112 •

FLESH and BOnE

Emily seemed to consider my response curiously and

uncrossed her arms as she approached. My breathing began to

coincide with her steps, leaving my body in bursts as she inched

closer. She rested a graceful hand on one of the two smaller chairs

facing my desk. Her perfume collided with the air I was having

trouble holding in. My pupils threatened to dilate at her scent.

She was my drug. And I was dangerously addicted.

“You were working on it, weren’t you?” She glanced over

my desk, and I hastily covered the paper I had been writing on

with my hands. Her gaze lingered over the very obvious culprits

and I lifted one hurriedly to scratch my face in hopes of appearing

more at ease. She took her time meeting my eyes, and when she

did the slight grin grew, nailing me to my chair.

I struggled to breathe, completely pinned by her presence

and the silent words her eyes were whispering.

I know you’re up to something. I know it’s you.

“Brynn?”

My body jerked. “I’m sorry?”

“The Meyer file?”

“Right.” I skimmed my desk frantically, having lost all

rational thought. “I’m not sure where it is…” I rifled through

papers and in my panic brushed the one with my thoughts of her

off the surface. It drifted slowly through the air, like a feather

finally free of the bird. It fell to rest on the floor at my feet. I didn’t

budge. I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I hoped that she would

ignore it. I knew she couldn’t read it from where she stood.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Her eyes were trained on the

sacred piece of parchment.

To my astonishment, I let out a laugh. “That? Oh no, it’s

nothing. Just a piece of paper.”

You’re a fucking moron and she knows you’re a fucking

moron. Look at her. She’s looking at you like you’re a fucking

moron.

“The file…” I stuttered, my mind suddenly functioning. I’d

do anything to get her to stop looking at me. “I finished with

• 113 •

ROnica BLack

it yesterday. Billy should have it.” I sat frozen with fear in my

chair. She was the predator and I was the prey. If I didn’t move,

maybe she wouldn’t see me. I certainly was turning the same

color as my chair. Burgundy.

Her hypnotic eyes were passionate and penetrating, the kind

that offered little detail but unbelievably great depth.

“Okay then,” she finally spoke, her voice soft yet husky. “I

guess I need to find Billy.” She smiled, her expression completely

platonic, glanced down at the paper one last time, and then walked

from my office.

I sat in the vacuum of her absence trying desperately to calm

my flying heart rate. I closed my eyes and counted to five.

One. Breathe, Brynn, breathe.

Two. Christ, I can still smell her.

Three. You’re a moron. A fucking moron.

Four. Her eyes, her body, her piercing eyes.

Five. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.

I walked to the door and pushed it closed. Pressed my face

against its cool surface as my lungs filled with grateful air. It was

getting worse, this addiction of mine.

I squeezed my eyes closed in shame and frustration. She was

still there, in my mind’s eye. Grinning at me. In red. Red like the

roses I give to her.

A knock in my ear caused me to jump.

“You have the Meyer file.”

“What?”

Prairie, sixty-five years old and verbally abusive, strode

inside. I couldn’t survive a single day without her, although I

knew she wished I could, and would.

“Where did I put it?”

She shrugged. “Who knows?” She shouldered past me and

shuffled papers around on my desk in search of the missing file.

A man carrying an enormous number of roses poked his

head in my door.

“Emily Cartwright?”

• 114 •

FLESH and BOnE

“Down the hall, the last office on your right.” My head buzzed

and my heart raced. I followed him quickly, while managing to

stay a safe distance behind. Several coworkers eyed the explosion

of red and smiled, making comments as he passed by.

“More roses for Emily.”

“God, who is this guy?”

“I don’t know, but she should tell Jack to go fuck himself

once and for all.”

Laughter. I smiled, unable to hide my eagerness. The man

stopped at Emily’s door and I made myself comfortable among

the other waiting women.

“Emily Cartwright?”

“Yes?”

“Delivery.”

She walked to the door and the group of female coworkers

moved in unison like a gossip crazed little herd, coming to a stop

just outside her door. Emily’s face flushed and every emotion

was plainly visible. She was taken aback, overwhelmed, and

obviously very moved. Her eyes searched the three dozen roses

and a hand came up to cover her mouth as she took several steps

back.“Is there a card?” She seemed to know the answer, but a hint

of anxiety was still apparent in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I knew what it said and repeated it to myself as she opened

the envelope to read it.

Emily,

A modest representation.

Of your every breath.

She slipped the card back inside the sleeve and her hand

trembled as she laid it next to the flowers. She stood staring at

them, wordless, as the man tipped his ball cap at us voyeurs and

exited the office.

• 115 •

ROnica BLack

“Well, did he sign his name this time?” Val wanted to

know.“No.” Emily turned, her eyes distant, searching for answers

she knew she wouldn’t find here.

“How do you know it’s not Jack playing some sick game?”

Val’s secretary, Diane asked.

Emily shot her a look. “Jack can barely spell his own name.

He could never express himself with words, with words like…”

She stopped, drew a deep breath. “And he would never spend

money on flowers.”

“No,” Val affirmed, “this guy’s different.” She walked

to Emily’s desk and lightly touched the flowers, a gleam of

appreciation in her eyes. “He’s bright, sensitive, and passionate.

And madly in love with you.”

“Mmm.” Emily stood staring through the large office

window. I watched her intently, knowing she was in a world

that I had created. For the briefest of moments, we were there

together.

“Expensive wine, poems, letters, roses,” Val went on. “I

would say it’s all terribly clichéd if it wasn’t so damn good.”

“Yes, I know.” Her attention lingered beyond the window,

beyond the streets, beyond the cars. “It, all of it…it’s like this

person knows me. Really knows me.” She paused, as if trying to

make sense of it all. “And cares.”

Silence filled the room, thick as fog, while the women all

nodded and sighed.

“Does Jack know?” Diane asked.

“Yes.” It was a whisper but heard by all. “His private

investigator filled him in.”

“He’s giving you hell over it?”

Emily looked to Val and the gray of her eyes looked like mist

mixed with rain. She was lost and alone. My heart shuddered at

the sight.

“He’s convinced I’ve been cheating too.”

I nearly fell over with devastation. My doings had caused

• 116 •

FLESH and BOnE

her trouble. Oh God. She was suffering even more at the hands

of her husband because of me. I felt sick.

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Prairie startled us all, brushing

past me, shooing the other women away. “There’s work to be

done, ladies.” She paused next to Emily and spoke in a gentler

tone. “Here’s the Meyer file.” Emily turned and took the file

slowly, offering Prairie a tired smile. My secretary glanced at

the desk covered in red and snickered. “I thought it smelled like

a funeral home in here. This secret admirer of yours needs to

show some guts and ’fess up or get lost. God knows your life is

troubled enough.”

Upon hearing that last statement, I turned and made my way

back to my office. Everything I had tried to do, tried to share,

had blown up in Emily’s face. This game I had been playing,

been gambling on, was now over. I had taken the risk and failed.

I could no longer pretend that I lived in that world where Emily

and I could coexist in love and in happiness.

v

The steady pelting rain did little to soothe my pain. It

slammed against my floor to ceiling windows and sloshed down

in thick ripples to fall and rage in fast moving puddles on the

street. Lightning flashed, brightly and briefly illuminating my

loft, as if rudely reminding me of my empty bed with a merciless

flash photo. I leaned upon the cool glass, helpless before the pain,

hopeless that it would ever end. I couldn’t sleep and hadn’t been

able to for days.

I missed her. Even though we worked in offices a mere fifty

feet apart, I’d made it a point to avoid her. And it was killing me,

my invisible cord to her torn.

I stared into the wine as it did its best to comfort me. Edith

Piaf sang to me in sultry French tones, seemingly aware of how

bad I was hurting. I took a long, warm sip and closed my eyes.

The splattering of rain, the scratchy croon of old vinyl being read

• 117 •

ROnica BLack

by a needle, the dark, rich taste of Silver Oak—they should have

been enough to soothe me to sleep. But even though my body did

grow weary and heavy, my heart still bled.

I walked to the night table next to my bed where I refilled

my glass in the candlelight. Thunder growled in the distance and

trailed off into a faint knocking noise. I cocked my head, curious

as the noise became more of a presence. I glanced at my clock. It

was midnight. A weeknight. The sound grew louder.

Who the hell could it be?

There, through the tunnel of the peephole, stood a figure

framed by the dull glow of the hallway light. A lone, shadowy

figure. The Silver Oak and I decided we didn’t care who it was.

Together we were fearless. I unlocked the door and turned the

knob.The door opened slowly. An inch at a time. And then, it

stopped.

I blinked. I disbelieved. I blinked again and stared.

Emily.

Dripping wet.

Long coat and short midnight hair, slicked back against her

head.Full, deep red lips.

Piercing, hurricane gray eyes.

The wine glass, full and crimson, fell from my hand.

It broke on the wood floor. Loud but far away.

I blinked again.

Emily. Emily. It was Emily. Was it really her?

“Hello.”

Yes, it was her. The sultry, throaty voice. I couldn’t speak.

She seemed to understand this and stepped inside.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

She was dripping and cold with rain. I could feel the chill

and smell its earthiness as she moved past me. No umbrella. Just

her and the coat and the rain.

• 118 •

FLESH and BOnE

“Yes, of course,” I somehow said. I eased the door closed

and turned to face her, too stunned to think about anything other

than the way she looked.

She held my eyes as she took a step toward me, her words

searching.

“Do you like my hair?”

The question seemed so out of place, that for the briefest of

moments I feared I was imaging the entire thing. She lifted her

hands to her hair, where her fingers ran through it.

“I got it cut. I needed a change.” She trailed her fingertips

slowly over her damp neck to the coat, darkened with moisture.

“I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time. I’ve been wanting to

do a lot of things for a long time.” She paused. “Do you like it?”

My eyes were fixed on her lips where the question birthed

with smooth, seductive tones. I swallowed hard as lightning

flashed in her eyes. She’d brought the storm inside with her.

“Yes.” The whisper floated from me, raw and exposing.

She seemed satisfied with my answer and undid a button on

her coat as water continued to drip onto the floor with a steady

patter. She should have been shivering, trembling with cold, but

her body resonated with nothing of the sort. She was slick with

wet, yet electric with humming energy. I felt it. As if she were

a live wire, dangerous and whipping against the shiny black

pavement, ready to strike if I stepped too close. She took another

step closer and I caught sight of her shoes. High heels. Red. They

seemed ill suited for a cold, midnight visit in the penetrating

rain.“What are you doing here?” The pieces of the puzzle were

falling around me, slow drifting snowflakes settling to rest on the

floor, but I couldn’t yet put them together.

She studied me with deliberation. Her cool eyes seemed to

breathe heat upon my skin.

“You stopped.”

I stared, confused.

• 119 •

ROnica BLack

“You stopped,” she repeated. She worked the remaining

buttons open, but held the ends of the garment closed. “It’s been

two weeks. No wine, no roses. No letters.”

Blood pounded to my head, hot and thick. Panic, adrenaline,

fear, excitement. All of it felt fast and heavy as it slammed through

me. She knows. Oh God, she knows.

She slid her hand down the outside of the coat, withdrew a

folded piece of paper from the pocket, and held it out to me. Her

voice was soft.

“I’ve come for my last letter. The one Prairie found in your

office. The one you never sent.”

I started to speak in defense, but she stopped me with

powerful words of her own.

“I’ve been living for your words, Brynn. And lately, dying

without them.” She held my eyes with a determination I had

never seen.

“Read it,” she commanded with a whisper. “I need to hear

you read it to me.”

I focused on the familiar piece of paper, still folded neatly

despite being crinkled with wear. I opened it and gasped as the

words written in my hand jumped out at me.

“Read it,” she said again, nearly breathless.

Her eyes bored into me and her lips parted slightly, beckoning

me. I lowered my gaze and cleared my throat.

I spoke, my voice trembling:

Emily,

Red.

Lace.

Rich like velvet.

Dark and smooth and satin.

Teasingly covering her creamy skin in seductive webs

of deep ruby.

• 120 •

FLESH and BOnE

My lips sucking through the satin lingerie.

Her neck, arching and showing itself, paling from the

moonlight as her head tilts back in pleasure.

Her hair, cascading over her shoulders like ocean

waves inked by night.

Red.

Clinging to her skin.

Dark and moist from my mouth.

Red.

As I finished the final lines, I heard her reciting them with

me. She repeated the last of the words over and over while her

hands opened the raincoat. The poem seemed alive and hungry,

stealing the breath from my chest, squeezing the blood from my

heart.The coat fell to the floor.

I fought for air as the image in my mind, the one my words

created, focused into this new reality, this new world with new

boundaries.

“Is this…” she whispered. “Is this how you imagined me?”

She stood as still as the night, her creamy skin moist and glowing

in contrast to the dark red lingerie. Fingers splayed, she ran her

palms up and down her body, over the lacy bra, across the planes

of her abdomen, down to the lacy red panties.

“Tell me, Brynn. Tell me what you’ve wanted to tell me for

so long.”

My breath hitched in my throat. My heart thudded like mad

against the restricting fingers of the poem. She was there. She

was beautiful. Jesus-fucking-Christ, she was so beautiful. She

was everything.

“I…” No words would come. After all the thoughts, the

feelings, the letters, no words could ever come close to expressing

what I was feeling at that moment. It was as if everything in me

was strained and stretching. My muscles, my bones, my insides.

• 121 •

ROnica BLack

She had her hands inside me, pulling and clenching, killing me

softly. My blood and skin felt white hot, burning in waves and

waves of flushing heat. Somehow she was doing all this to me

just by standing there, damp and red, breathing the same air as me

and staring into my eyes. The red heels moved her closer and she

took my hand and drew me toward her, seeming to understand.

She leaned in, a mere inch from me, and I could feel the flames

of her breath on my ear.

“If you can’t tell me…then show me.”

Her perfume hit me hard and fast. My legs trembled and I

rested my hands on her shoulders for support. She took in another

breath as the heat of our skin collided. She was damp, warm, and

waiting. I groaned as she pressed into me, wrapping her arms

around my neck. She felt so good against me. So incredibly soft

and slick and warm. Soft was her skin, slick from the rain, warm

from her heart.

“I’ve never been with a woman, Brynn. But I’ve thought

about it…I’ve thought about you…for a long time.” She paused,

her breath tickling my ear. “When Prairie saw how miserable

we’ve both been and she gave me the letter…something strange

happened inside me. Just knowing it was you, all that time. It…

did something to me.” She brushed her cheek against mine and

brought her lips a mere centimeter away from my mouth. “Kiss

me.”Her breath teased my lips, and I couldn’t get it into my lungs

quickly enough. Gently, I skimmed my hands up her neck to her

face. I needed to hold her, hold on to the moment forever. Lost in

the allure of her scent, I lowered my head and felt her quiver as I

touched my lips to hers.

Rich. Thick. Warm. Wet. Her moan fanned my flame. She

pressed into me harder and the kiss grew deeper. My flame was

now a raging inferno. My mouth came to life on its own and

took her, one luscious lip at a time. First the top, then the bottom.

Then her tongue. It came searching, and then came finding. I met

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it with my own and we became one, tasting and testing. She was

sweet and slick with a darting, daring hunger. The feel of her so

passionate, so ready, it was…unbelievable. I groaned and held

her tighter, desperately validating her presence.

As if she sensed my need to feel her, she grabbed my wrists

to lead my hands down to her hips. Then she whispered her fire in

my ear. “Make me red. Red, just like your poem. Color me with

your mouth.”

As the request registered, my entire body ignited and pulsed.

A rush of sound, like a crashing ocean wave, flooded my ears and

I could no longer hear, and no longer cared. The image of her

words was all that I needed.

I gripped her firmly, running my hands over her backside

and squeezing. She threw her arms and legs around me as I lifted

her off the floor. Teeth nipped at my neck as we spun, her tongue

playing with my ear as I walked. I made it to the window where

I pressed her against it and she gasped from the feel of the cool

pane.Rain still splashed against it. I kissed her again, hard and

furious, as I rocked into the damp flesh between her legs.

Her fingers scraped my scalp and knotted in my hair as the

kiss grew wilder and hungrier. I conquered her mouth and battled

her tongue, swirling and swirling. I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t

get deep enough. We fed on one another, so hard and relentless

my lips first burned and bruised then numbed and tingled.

When she yanked me away by my hair her lips were dark

and dangerous, lipstick smeared.

“I can’t stop shaking,” she said, and seemed strangely

frightened, but her voice was deep and strong.

“Hurry,” she demanded, pushing me away. I took a step back

and lowered her to stand on her own. She gripped my forearms

and seared her eyes into mine. “Make me red.”

My world burned. I took her hands, laced them in mine, and

pressed them over her head. I held her there, so long and so tight,

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I swore I felt my fingers melt through the glass, felt the biting rain

stinging my knuckles. Fighting with reality, I lowered my head to

her chest. I felt her heart pumping wildly. I imagined I saw it as I

pulled away, neon red and rushing, held captive against the cold,

dark windowpane. I kissed her hot skin up to her neck where I

sucked and licked where her veins fed her life. She cried out with

pleasure as I fastened to her.

“Yes, yes,” she panted. “You feel so good.”

I pulled away and looked at her flesh. It was red.

Hastily, I pulled aside her bra and exposed her tan nipple.

Her breath caught in her throat as my mouth colored her nipple

to resemble her neck. She arched into me and ran her fingernails

over my back. I sucked her hard and bit her soft. Her groans grew

stronger and I released her hands. She clawed and commanded,

first insisting then begging.

I worked my way lower, licking her clenching abdomen,

kissing my way down. Her panties were satin and lace, hinting

and teasing with the dampness of her desire. I kissed her there,

where everything gathered and bunched, the nucleus of her.

She cried out, throaty and loud. “Oh God. Mmm. Feels so

good.”

The red material darkened with the moisture from my

tongue. It was what I had dreamed about. What I had wanted for

so long. She was here. It was happening. She was a beautiful dark

red rosebud, and I was going to make her bloom.

I pulled down her panties as she tugged at my hair. She

wanted more, wanted my mouth on her bare flesh. Her eyes

were smoky and hazed, her head resting against the window. She

looked at me when she stepped out of the lingerie. Her bottom lip

trembled. It was an image I knew I would never forget.

I placed my hands on her thighs and breathed against the

dark pink flesh between them. She shivered and moaned as her

hand tightened in my hair. She wanted it. Wanted me. I could feel

it humming out of her, but I needed to hear her say it.

“Do you want my mouth on you?” I whispered.

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She licked her lips and leaned her back against the window

once again, the feel of my breath driving her wild.

“Yes,” she managed and then groaned, pulling me to her.

I resisted, my own body ready to burst from the inside out. I

could almost taste her glistening, waiting flesh. “Tell me, Emily.

Tell me.”

She tilted my head to look at her. “I want…I want your

mouth on me.” Her eyes pierced into mine, so alive with need it

took my breath away.

“Please, Brynn. Now.”

Again, she tugged me to her, and this time I let her. Closing

my eyes, I felt her hot flesh touch my nose, my lips, and my chin.

I didn’t move, but rather let her move me where she wanted me.

She held me firmly while moaning and thrusting into my face,

desperate for me to fasten to her. I inhaled her scent and moaned,

relishing in the feel of her all wet and silky, all over my face.

When I felt her nails in my scalp and heard the crack in her

voice, I knew neither of us could wait any longer.

I extended my tongue and licked her up and down, starting

from the outside and moving in, barely rimming her hard clitoris.

She shuddered and her knees nearly gave out, her body sinking

against me. I held her up with all my strength, one hand on her

hip, the other pressing open her thigh. Her moans grew louder as

my tongue framed the length of her, thriving on her sound. Her

clit was firm yet delicate, protruding and pulsing.

“Oh, Brynn.”

I looked up. Her eyes were clenched shut, her chest expelling

ragged breaths. “So good. Feels so good.”

Dying to give her more, I moved my tongue lower and found

the essence of her waiting for me, warm and ready and already

pooled. It was milky sugar. The sweetest sugar I had ever tasted.

With my head spinning, I flattened my tongue and spread her

sweetness all over her excited flesh. She trembled as I feasted,

first in a slow, gentle manner and then in a pressured frenzy,

sucking in her flesh, again avoiding the clitoris. Her body jerked

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and pushed and then pulled and fought. She was going mad with

desire, crying out into the night, beckoning to the resounding

thunder.

Unable to hold off any longer, I took her stiff clit between

my teeth and held it there as she gasped and slammed her head

back. She bit her lower lip and her pelvis trembled against me.

“What are you doing to me?” she rasped.

I swirled my tongue over the tip and she bucked three times

very quickly, unable to control herself. My mouth licked and

sucked, swirled and stroked. I pulled away and saw that her flesh

was a deep red.

I entered her, as many fingers as she could take, wanting

to feel her bloom from the inside. She was hot, liquid silk, and

I groaned at the feel of her spongy, firm tunnel. I thrust into her

long and slow until her cries became short and fast.

The rose was unfurling.

Slowly.

Beautifully.

Rich and red.

I closed my eyes. I could see it there. Blossoming. I wanted

to taste it. Taste the velvet red of the rose. My lips found her and

fed. Yes. Yes. Beautiful rose.

“God, oh God, oh God!” Her cries ripped from her chest

and the thunder echoed her as she came in my mouth, clenched

around my fingers. She shoved herself against me, desperate

and demanding. The pleasure I had given her had built and built

and now it was bursting free. She was giving that to me. Her

pleasure. And I took it, as much as I could. Swallowing it down.

Swallowing her.

When my name sang from her lips in a soft, stuttered song,

I slowed my tongue and eased my lips. The thunder that had

echoed her trailed off into the distance and her fingers relaxed to

stroke my hair. I pulled my mouth from her but left my fingers

deep inside. She opened her eyes and brought her hands to my

face, clasping me gently.

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I waited for sweet nothings, for the declarations of love or

emotion that often followed an orgasm. Especially one induced

for the first time by another woman. But again, Emily Cartwright

surprised me.

“Brynn.”

“Yes.”

“You made me red.” She stared at me with eyes still heavy

lidded with desire, but liquid like the glass splattered with rain.

“Yes, I did.” Gently, I eased out of her and watched as a

lingering spark of pleasure lit her face.

A serious look came over her and she ran her fingers across

my lips as if they were her eyes and seeing me for the first time.

A tear gathered and fell down her cheek. Concerned, I thumbed

the warm trail away from her face.

“Are you okay?”

She stared deep into my eyes.

“Nothing’s ever felt so good.” She reached for my wrist and

squeezed it tight. “I want to feel you inside me. Always.”

I swallowed at her request. “Anything. Anything for you.”

She smiled.

“Then take me to the bed and do it again. Make me red.”

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B iS FOR BEautiFuL

Whatcha doin’ today?” My great uncle Marty wanted

to know as we loaded my small, seen way better days

Geo Metro. That was his trademark question, calling every single

family member who wasn’t long distance every day asking, “Hey,

whatcha doin’?”

I crawled in behind the wheel and started the car as he

pushed in the lighter button and lit a cigarette. He smoked as I

drove through the tiny Southern town in which I and everyone

that had any drop of blood in relation to mine was born. I relaxed

and breathed in the country air as Marty held his cigarette by his

face, pinky extended. He held his beer that way too, way up high

by his chin, pinky out.

“I don’t know,” I finally answered. I had been in town for a

week and I was already feeling overwhelmed. “I think I might go

for a drive.” I just needed to be alone for a while. The funeral had

been long, sad, and drawn out. Where I’m from wakes last for

hours, the line extending out the door. Everyone comes dressed

in their Sunday best, taking your hand in both of theirs, giving

their condolences, and then they stand by the coffin and whisper,

“Don’t he look good? He does, he looks good.”

“Can I come?” Marty asked, reaching out to rub the dash. “I

like this car.” He began turning the radio knob.

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“I think I want to go alone.” I switched on the radio for him.

“But we’ll do something tomorrow.”

He nodded and smoked some more. “I’ll call you tonight.”

I knew he would, regardless, so I said, “Okay.”

I relished Marty’s unusualness. He was by far the most

interesting person I knew, related or not. As weird as he was,

he’d always been good to me and good to my mother. He was

a devil on the guitar and he used to play little concerts for me

when I was a kid. I’d sit on his squeaky bed in his small room,

my feet dangling as the old air conditioner in the window ran.

He’d tune his guitar and sing Elvis for me for as long as his

voice held out.

We drove on down the road and passed the one swinging

stoplight to turn into my grandmother’s dirt road. As I pulled into

the gravel drive I counted five other vehicles. Family and friends

were still hanging out, stuffing the old Frigidaire with mountains

of fried chicken and casseroles. This morning I even noticed a

red velvet cake on the kitchen table.

“I’ll see y’all later,” I said as Marty hopped out and unloaded

the tater tots, hair dye, and other personal items he’d claimed

he desperately needed. He’d been spending the days at my

grandmother’s, along with everyone else. My grandfather had

been a good friend to him and his sudden death was a shock to us

all. I knew I should go inside and visit with everyone, but I was

exhausted and finally grieving. The last thing I wanted to do was

break down in front of my grandmother. She was having a hard

enough time.

I watched as the strangest man I knew headed into my

grandmother’s house, accepting that he was probably saner than

me. He, at the very least, had been married at one time. Me, I

couldn’t even claim a long-term relationship. But no one knew

the true reason why. They all just thought I’d preferred college

first before I settled down with the right man. I guess that’s why I

enjoyed time with Marty so much. We both held deep secrets.

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I drove back up the dirt road away from the overcrowded

farmhouse and then turned onto the main highway. The day was

hot and muggy, typical for July in the South. I hadn’t been home

for a few years and I had no idea where I was going. Turning on

the A/C, I decided on taking a scenic rural route. I merged off the

highway and drove for over half an hour on a winding narrow

road. I carved through trees, dense forests, and kudzu and then

the road opened up onto vast green pastures before narrowing

back into woods again.

Janet Jackson was singing about “Nasty Boys” when my

car starting hesitating. Immediately, I switched off the radio and

looked to the gauges. My engine temp was way up; something

was wrong. I felt the air coming from the A/C vent with the back

of my hand. It was blowing hot.

“Shit.” Up ahead I saw an old gas station next to a weathered

rusty building. “Come on, come on.” I started jerking in my seat,

as if that would somehow help. My eyes scanned the garage and

I noticed a faded oPen sign in the window. I craned the steering

wheel into the drive just as the car died.

I tried the ignition but nothing happened. Smoke began to

rise out of the hood. There was no movement from inside the

garage, and I began to wonder about the sign as I took in the

stacks of worn tires and grass overgrowing on tractor parts.

Without the A/C, the heat was stifling. I was just reaching to roll

down the window when someone smashed against it, hands flat,

nose smeared.

“Jesus!” I jumped.

“Overheated?” He smiled, kind of goofy looking but friendly.

His hands were covered in grease and he had on a stained T-shirt.

He backed away so I could roll down the window.

“I think so.” I offered a smile of my own. He looked to the

hood and then poked his head inside my window. I leaned back,

slightly offended at his proximity. He clicked his teeth as he

studied the gauges and then turned his head to look at me, his

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nose an inch from mine. Again the smile. He smelled like car

grease and bubble gum, and I noticed a used sucker stick tucked

behind his ear like a cigarette.

“I think so too.” He backed out and opened the door for me.

“Pop the hood first.”

I did and then crawled out to watch him, wiping my brow.

As he fanned away the smoke and leaned in, I heard the sound

of water spraying. I turned slightly, to focus on the side of the

garage. Standing in the shade, spraying herself with the hose,

was a sight I will never, ever forget.

She was tall, about five foot ten, wearing cut-off jeans and

a white sports bra, hair short and dirty blond in color. She was

grinning into the white mist, her toned, somewhat muscular body

glistening. Having thoroughly soaked her bra and shorts, the

water was running down her legs to her Doc Martens boots. She

didn’t seem to mind.

The young man was saying something to me, but I wasn’t

paying attention. I was too busy watching her. She seemed to

sense this and lowered the hose, turning off the water at the

squeaky spigot. When she stood, she ran her hands through hair

and smiled at the feel of the water sloshing down her back. My

heart stood still at her smile and then I heated at the sight of her

wet bra clinging to the small, taut breasts, their tips a dark rose.

She walked toward us and I smiled broadly as she

approached.

“Overheated?” she said looking into the smoke pit of an

engine, her nose crinkled.

“Yeah.” He continued to fan away the smoke.

She sank her hands into her pockets and looked toward the

sky, as if the sun were delicately massaging her face. “Don’t open

that radiator, Rudy. It’s too hot. Let the engine cool down first.”

“I know,” he said, moving his hand that held the rag he was

going to use to try to open it.

“I know you know,” she said. “Just reminding you.”

Rudy tucked the rag in his back pocket. “Sorry, ma’am, but

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we need to wait awhile before I can get in there and fix it.” He

clicked his teeth again and dug in his pocket for a soft-looking

cube of bubble gum.

“This is my sister, Iris.” He happily chomped.

“Hi,” I said, trying hard not to stare. “I’m Whit.”

She turned her head but didn’t look directly at me. “Hello.”

We stood in silence for a moment and I thought maybe she’d

seen me gawking at her and was offended. Again, I had to remind

myself that I was home again and things were different here. I

couldn’t just gawk at every attractive woman I saw.

“You can wait with me behind the garage,” she said. “It’s

cooler.” She started to walk away and I followed, eyes trained on

her bottom. We walked behind the garage on a well-worn path

through the overgrown lawn to a tall, older home and a medium-

sized shed beside it.

“In here,” she said, opening the door to the shed and entering

without turning around. I held open the rickety door and stepped

inside. “Please close the door. Rudy will be out with your car

touching it every few seconds until it cools.”

I nodded and pulled it closed. The shed smelled musty with

the faint scent of wet clay. Like the way an art room smells at

an elementary school. It was considerably cooler, with a small

air conditioner in the back window. The walls were white with

beautiful colorful swirls painted throughout. Sunlight streamed

in through the two uncurtained windows.

Iris stood at a large table, palms resting on its surface, her

back to me. “Please come in.”

I walked to the table and looked around at the shelves lining

the left wall. They were covered in sculptures and busts, some of

them fired and painted, some of them smooth and white.

“Did you do these?” I reached out and grazed one of a

woman, beautifully detailed, breasts, nipples, musculature.

“Yes.”

The table was covered in dried clay remnants but nothing

else. She was staring at the back window.

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“Do you think I’m beautiful?” she asked as if she’d just

reached up and pulled the question from thin air.

I was completely startled, unsure I’d even heard her correctly.

But the answer came out before I could stop it.

“Yes.”

She was a golden goddess, bronzed and wet, shimmering in

the flowing sunlight.

She cocked her head. “Come here.”

I hesitated.

She pushed herself up and away from the table. “Please.”

Swallowing, I stepped closer to her.

“Your breathing has changed,” she said as her hand came up

to touch my hair. I looked in her eyes, the ones that wouldn’t look

at me, and saw their unfocus.

“You’re blind.” It was a whisper, a surprise.

She laughed, throaty and deep. “And you aren’t very

perceptive.”

My cheeks burned as my eyes devoured her hungrily, finally

free to do so. Smooth and moist, her skin was sun-kissed and

flawless, dark, honeyed freckles dancing across her nose. Her

eyes were blue and endlessly deep, a shade I’d never seen before,

like where I’d imagined Atlantis to be.

“You don’t put chemicals in your hair.” She paused and my

eyes nearly rolled back in my head as she finger combed my hair.

“You’re trembling.” She slid her hand down. “And you can’t seem

to breathe.” She leaned in a bit and dropped her hand to mine.

She turned it over and brushed her fingers lightly over my palm.

My breath hitched. She smiled. “I know all about you now.”

“You do?” I watched her lips—a soft pink—part slightly

before she answered.

“Yes.” The lips tugged at one side, amused. “You don’t

smoke but you were around someone who does. You’re fairly

young, mid twenties. Somewhat educated, you are from here

but your accent gives away your home now. And…” Her hands

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drifted up my arms to my shoulders. Then, fleetingly, she touched

my face. “You’re very beautiful.”

I closed my eyes, warming from her touch, nearly swooning

as I leaned toward her.

“You like me,” she acknowledged.

I opened my eyes, afraid. “I’m sorry I—”

Her fingers found my lips. “Shh.” She lowered herself to

breathe against my neck. A small noise escaped my throat at the

feel of her breath. “Your perfume, I can’t place it, but I like it.”

She straightened. “I want to sculpt you.”

She gripped my shoulders and turned me so that my back

was to the table. In a daze, I watched helplessly as she lifted

my T-shirt over my head and tossed it to the side. My chest was

heaving, the cool air kissing my back. Then her hands were at my

shorts, unbuttoning and lowering. When they reached my ankles,

her hands came back up to tug down the underwear. She was

careful to avoid my skin, and I shivered, suddenly feeling self-

conscious.

“Wait, I—”

But she shushed me again, finger on my lips. “Are you

wearing a bra?”

I stared at her, my head buzzing. “No.”

She inhaled through her nose and I saw her pulse jump in her

neck. “Sit on the table.”

As if I weighed nothing at all, she pressed her hands against

my hips and lifted me onto the table. It felt rough and cold against

my backside and I was about to protest when she cupped my face

in her hands.

“What is Whit short for?”

I had to clear the rocks from my throat to answer.

“Whitley.”

Her thumbs parted my lips and dipped just inside, feeling

my tongue. She groaned. “I’m going to touch you now.”

She left me struggling for air on the table. At the shelves,

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her hands searched until she found what she wanted. Turning,

she popped open the pink lid and squirted baby oil into her palm.

My heart jumped.

“What’s that for?” I could already smell it.

She held up her hand. “This is how I see. And this”—she

held up the bottle—“this helps me to see.”

She crossed the small room and stood before me. “Now, lie

back and rest on your elbows.”

I was already wet and I could feel it when I leaned back and

stared into her face. The vein in her neck jerked every second

and her lips were swollen with excitement. She rubbed her hands

together and then held the bottle over me, squirting the cool oil

between my breasts and down to my navel.

Her nose flared and her deep eyes flashed. Her breath hitched

as she set the bottle down and then reached out for me. She

started in the center, palms flat, and moved her hands outward.

She smoothed her palms over me, up the planes of my stomach to

my neck and shoulders, careful to avoid my breasts. She did this

for a while, until we were both breathing heavy with desire. She

raked her nails down the center of my chest.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she rasped. “I need to see you.”

Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips and she moved her hands

upward. A loud groan escaped her as her hands slid over my

breasts, slick with oil. She jerked with excitement.

“Oh God, I can see you now. Oh, I can see you.” She moved

her hands faster and in larger circles, exploring my upper body in

a splendor I’d never seen. It was as if she were touching herself,

her excitement growing and building. I arched into her, excited

as well, feeling her hot hands slide over me and wanting so much

more.“You’re making me wet,” I said, wanting her to know just

what she was doing to me.

She laughed and ran her hands up to my neck and held me a

moment. “I know. I know.”

Then, with another groan, her hands drifted lower and she

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rubbed and squeezed my breasts and pinched my nipples. I cried

out and reached for her head. I knotted my fingers in her hair as

she went lower, rubbing my hips and trailing down to my thighs.

She lowered herself and inhaled and then raked her hands back

to my breasts.

“Oh, I can see you.” A groan. “So beautiful.”

I pulled myself to her, wanting to kiss her. But she planted

her hands on the table and pulled away, my hand falling from her

hair.“Not yet,” she whispered. She worked her way down my

body again, her breathing rapid, her eyes wild. Her hands worked

like magic, discovering and rubbing and giving and taking. She

moaned as her palms rubbed my inner thighs and her thumbs

lightly swept my hair.

I tried to sit, trembling. She continued to tease, lightly

brushing over my pussy with her thumbs. Her head was tilted

to the ceiling, as if she were giving thanks. She stood like that

for what seemed like an eternity, gently teasing my hair, lightly

teasing her fingertips.

“I’m throbbing,” I said, unable to sit up, unable to take much

more.“Shh.” She pressed into my shoulder. “Move back some

more and lie down.”

I was burning red hot inside, my pussy full and throbbing.

My back to the cool surface of the table, I rubbed my hands

over my slick breasts and watched as she gently spread my legs,

placing my feet on the table.

“There,” she said. “I want to see this part of you.” She bent

and breathed against my aching flesh. “I want to see every last

bit.” She spread me with her thumbs and we both cried out when

she found my slick arousal. “Oh God, yes,” she whispered. “This

is better than oil.” She turned her hand and dipped into my folds,

rubbing up and down.

I pushed my hips in the air, hungry for it.

She bit her bottom lip as she worked me, holding it with her

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teeth. Then she lifted her hand and rubbed my juices over my

breast, pinching and rolling the nipple.

“Whitley, you are so beautiful, so beautiful.” She ran her

nails down my abdomen and again spread me with her thumbs.

She lowered herself to her knees and eased her nose into my hair.

Another groan escaped her as she inhaled. “Oh God, you smell

good.” Her eyes closed, she pushed herself further in, rubbing

her nose, mouth, and cheeks against me. An erotic laugh seeped

from her throat as she rubbed her face into me like a cat rubbing

on scent. “You are so wet, so wonderful.”

My hands clawed at the dry surface of the table, flakes of

dried clay coming undone. Her cheekbones were pressing into

my clit each time she turned her head.

“Iris,” I whispered, wanting terribly to grab her head and

hold her to me so I could gyrate against her and come all over

her face.

“Shh,” she said again, sensing my excitement. “You are wet

and thick, your flesh very full.” She pulled back, holding me open.

“I’m going to find you now.” She stuck out a long tongue and

flicked my tiny clit lightly. I jerked and moaned, thrusting into

her. She laughed again and pressed closer, lapping at my clit. She

flicked me again and again, so quick and light, her tongue like a

machine. I could feel myself growing harder, growing larger, my

small red tip extending outward, reaching for her tongue.

Oh sweet God, it felt so good.

“Mmm. So little and hard.” She stopped her machine-gun

assault and lapped harder and longer, using both the front and

back of her tongue.

Oh motherfucker, her tongue was firm and wet and heavy,

and I wanted more, would kill for more. Then she started to swirl.

Great big wet circles all over my clit.

“Ahh!” I clawed at her head. “I’m gonna come,” I warned.

She stood from her knees and wrapped her hands around my

hips, lifting me with her. Her hungry mouth fastened to my flesh,

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she sucked me into her, holding me snug inside her mouth. Her

tongue worked the underside of my clit while her lips and teeth

dug into the top.

I cried out again and again, the feeling of being feasted upon

overwhelming. Her eyes were closed and her hungry mouth

made wonderful feeding noises as her head bobbed, sucking and

pulling.

“Motherfucker,” I seethed, coming so hard my head snapped

back and my body strained against her. My nails clawed at the

table and my eyes clenched along with my legs. I was tensing

and dying, tearing at the table, coming in her mouth. The orgasm

had built and built and then burst inside me, my flesh begging

and stealing, needing more, more, more. Nothing had ever felt so

good. Nothing.

She held me like that, to her mouth, until I finally stilled,

heart racing, swallowing against a dry throat.

I jerked a few more times against her mouth, sensitive.

She opened her eyes and pulled her mouth away slowly. She

licked her lips and lowered me back to the table. I could see the

redness of her swollen mouth, the wet flush of arousal on her

cheeks. She had me all over her face, glistening in the sunlight.

She smiled down at me and rubbed her hands over my

breasts. When she twitched with delight I knew she was close. I

sat up and scooted off the table. Her head followed me, but she

said nothing.

“I want to touch you now,” I said, reaching out with sore

fingernails full of dried clay to unbutton her fly. Her hands ran

through my hair as I forced down her wet shorts and found no

panties.

I kissed her lightly on her thighs, working my way up. She

groaned and pushed herself to me.

“Are you going to taste me?”

I could smell her arousal and see the slickness of it on her

dark honey hair. “Yes.”

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She massaged my scalp and her breathing quickened. “I’m

going to think about you every time I use the hose to pleasure

myself.”

The vision of her spraying herself with the hose came to

mind. Then I imagined her holding the end of the hose inside her

shorts, coming against the cool flow of water. I wrapped my arms

inside her thighs then and held her buttocks to me. I pressed into

her wet flesh with my tongue and found her clit large and full

and waiting. Her nails dug into my scalp and she held me tight

and I knew there would be no waiting. I took her in my mouth

right away and sucked her just behind my teeth to the roof of my

mouth. I played her with my tongue as I worked her like this,

tugging her hard and fast. Her warm excitement spread over my

chin, and I closed my eyes at the wonderful taste.

She began to groan, louder and louder, her hands running

over my face, her fingertips at my mouth, feeling me sucking

her. “Ahh, ahh.” She thrust into me, faster and faster. Her fingers

pressed into my cheeks, trying to get to my mouth and I pulled

away for a split second, letting her. Hurriedly, she moved her

fingers to her clit, framing it with her fingertips. I licked at them

hungrily and felt her twinge with need. Then I took her in my

mouth again and sucked and swirled her clit with her fingers right

there, watching.

She threw her head back and came loudly, stumbling

backward against the shelves. I held her tightly and followed

on my knees, pressing into her harder and faster. She continued

to come, howling with a raspy throat, jutting herself into me.

She pushed her fingers into my mouth and I sucked them off,

swallowing the come right off them. Then I went back to her

clit and did it the same. As she forced herself into me, her legs

quaking, her come hot and slick in my mouth, I lowered my right

hand from her backside and rubbed my own seeping wetness into

oblivion once again. I came and pressed into her pussy, moaning

and thrusting my face against her.

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We both shook and groaned, holding fast to one another, our

bodies tight and writhing like spent bows.

When my tremors stopped I turned my face and rested

against her flesh, desperate for breath. She moved her hands and

stroked my head, her own body still trembling.

“Whitley,” she said, her voice deep and rough, so sexy

because I knew it sounded like that because of me. “How long

are you here for?”

I looked at her and licked my sore lips, her come thick and

salty and sweet. “I’m not sure.”

“Will you come back before you leave?”

I stood and leaned into her moist neck, unable to keep my

balance. She shuddered.

“Yes.”

Her hands found my face where they traced over my mouth.

“Good. I want you to see your sculpture.”

“You’re still going to sculpt me?” She hadn’t even started.

We’d gotten too carried away.

“Oh, yes,” she laughed. “I’ve got you all right here.” She

pointed to her eye. “I can see you forever now.”

She brought me closer and we kissed, wet, glistening lips,

tasting ourselves. She felt warm and inviting, her tongue a soft,

firm velvet. I wanted to get lost in her forever.

As I closed my eyes and kissed her earlobe, I knew I too

would hold her forever in my mind.

“I see you too, Iris. Always.”

• 141 •

• 142 •

FLESH and BOnE

O iS FOR ORgaSm

The attractive brunette walked out of the high-rise

building at exactly twelve noon, just as she did every

weekday at her lunch hour. With assured purpose she made her

way to the sidewalk thick with vendors where she bought a diet

soda and unwrapped a straw.

Across the street Lauren Canfield lowered her newspaper,

crossed her legs casually, and took a long sip from her own straw.

She watched as the brunette continued on past the food stands to

a covered area where newspapers, magazines, and books were

sold. Finding a column bookcase, she paused, rotating it slowly,

plucking out a small paperback. Seeing her chance, Lauren

lowered her newspaper and stood to cross the street.

“Looks pretty wild,” she said, coming to a stand next to her.

She sipped her drink nonchalantly.

The brunette’s eyes quickly darted toward her but then just

as quickly refocused on the book in her hands.

Lauren studied the bookcase, her free hand finding a

paperback of her own.

“This one’s good.” She pretended to concentrate on the back

cover. “Of course, that’s only if you’ve already read Fuller. His

Bradford series blows these away.”

The brunette lowered the book in her hand and cocked her

head. A smile eased its way across her face.

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“You’ve read Fuller?”

Lauren nodded. “Sure. You?”

“I just finished the Bradford series.”

Lauren met her eyes. They looked just as they had that first

time she’d seen them a few weeks before, like sunlight through

a jar of honey. She’d tried not to stare on that ride in an elevator,

but now she looked for a good long moment and thought how

everything about the brunette reminded her of honey, from her

sun-streaked hair to her slightly bronzed skin.

“They’re good, aren’t they? The books,” Lauren asked.

The brunette laughed with excitement. “Yes!” Then she

seemed almost embarrassed at her reaction and she lowered her

head. There was a long pause, and Lauren could almost hear her

mind searching for something appropriate to say. It came soft and

a little unsure. “So, do you read a lot, then?”

“Try to. You?”

“Every chance I get.”

Lauren replaced the book and rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m usually so busy working…sometimes it’s hard to find the

time to read as much as I would like to.”

The brunette smiled and it lit up her entire being. “I know

how that feels.”

“What do you do?” Lauren pretended not to know.

“Administrative assistant.” She rolled her eyes. “Assistant

my ass. I do everything.”

Lauren laughed and shoved her hand into her jeans pocket,

waiting for the next question, the important one. It came

quickly.

“What about you?”

She looked out into the street, staring into oblivion. “I’m a

photographer.”

“Oh?”

Lauren couldn’t tell if she was highly intrigued or

disappointed. Usually it was one or the other. No in-betweens.

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FLESH and BOnE

She looked to her once again and grinned. “It’s a living. And

it helps in my true passion. My collection.”

“Like baseball cards or something?”

“Sort of.” A long silence ensued when Lauren didn’t

elaborate. Not wanting to wait any longer, she went in for the

kill. “Listen, I would really like it if maybe you could drop by

sometime.” She reached for her wallet and rifled through it.

“You’ve got a great face and I would love to photograph you.”

She plucked out her business card and held it out to her.

“You’re kidding, right?” The smile was there but it was

different.

“No, I’m not kidding.”

The brunette looked around in frustration and then focused

back on Lauren with eyes that were as rock hard as her face. “I

thought only asshole guys used that line.”

Lauren considered trying to explain but knew it would do

little to calm her. Instead, she took her hand and placed her card

in her palm.

“If you change your mind, give me a call.” Lauren spoke

softly, hoping it would resonate outward. “I can compensate you

handsomely for your time.”

She turned and walked away, stepping over the curb to cross

the street. A cab sped by, allowing her the freedom to cross but

she hesitated, hoping.

“Excuse me?” The voice came from behind. She turned.

“Yes?”

“You’re Lauren Canfield?” Her face had softened

considerably. “Lauren Canfield the photographer?”

Lauren relaxed. “Yes.” She had heard of her. That always

made things easier.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” She looked at the business

card and then back to Lauren. “I’m flattered, I mean, you really

think I’m good enough to photograph?”

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“Absolutely.”

She shook her head, not yet convinced. “All those models

you shoot and everything…I don’t know.”

Lauren smiled, enjoying her modesty. She was, indeed,

perfect.

Lauren spoke with reassurance. “I wouldn’t ask unless I

meant it. Give it some thought, okay?”

Another taxi passed by, and this time Lauren crossed the

street leaving the brunette there with her card in her hand and no

doubt numerous questions in her mind.

v

Two days later, she called.

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me, I didn’t even get a

chance to introduce myself…”

“The Fuller fan.” Lauren smiled and rose from the couch

in her loft/studio. “Right?” She stretched, stiff from examining

proof after proof on her light table.

“Yes. I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”

“Of course I remember you.”

Silence. Lauren could sense that she was still unsure.

“Are you calling to take me up on my offer?”

There was more silence and then, “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Lauren spoke quickly, afraid she would change

her mind. “When can you come over?”

“Well, I’m not sure. We’re going to do this at your place?”

“Yes, I have a loft and I use it for a lot of my shoots.” Lauren

walked to her fridge and cracked open a beer, her mind already

racing with the details of how exactly she wanted to photograph

her. “I would like to do it around sunset if that’s okay.”

She stared out her vast windows, enjoying the rose and

yellows the setting sun cast throughout the city.

“You won’t be alone,” she added. “There will be two others

with you.”

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FLESH and BOnE

“I wasn’t really worried about that.” She paused. “Things are

kind of tight right now. I just split up with my girlfriend and…”

“Money. Yes.” Lauren swallowed some cool amber beer. “I

can give you a check for three grand. That’s for one evening. No

strings. I keep one photo with your permission. You get the rest,

hard copies included.”

“That sounds more than generous.” Her breathing changed.

She was ready. “What should I wear?”

“Dress casual. Jeans.”

“Jeans?”

Lauren laughed.

“When?”

“Tomorrow evening okay?”

“Yes.”

“Seven?”

“Yes.”

“Great, see you then. Oh, and what’s your name?”

“Sorry?”

“Who do I make that check out to?”

“Therese. Therese Howell.”

“See you tomorrow, Therese.”

v

She arrived early, knocking on Lauren’s door at six fifty. She

was obviously anxious, and that was always a good sign.

Lauren welcomed her inside with a smile and she stood just

inside the door with a look of nervous apprehension.

“Wow.” Her eyes took in the large loft, lit almost entirely by

candles.

“Please make yourself at home.” Lauren headed into the

kitchen where she offered her a drink. “Merlot okay?”

Therese took a few steps in, still in wonder. “Sure.”

Lauren handed her the glass and led her to where the two

other women sat on the large cushioned couch.

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“Therese, this is Bo.” Bo stood and shook her hand, a sly

grin playing along her face.

“And this is Carmen.” Carmen gave a wave and a smile

before crossing her ankle over her knee. Both were young, fit

tomboys with sharp, androgynous features and short, thick hair

that could be made to fit any look.

Therese smiled and fidgeted a bit, showing off her nerves.

Lauren watched her closely, wondering what caused it more, the

two tomboys who were just her type, or the fact that she would

be photographed alongside them.

Wasting no time, Lauren moved to the built-in shelves on the

far wall and switched on the stereo. After adjusting the volume

she retrieved her camera and lightly touched Therese’s arm.

“I thought we would start out here.” She walked to the French

doors and headed outside to the wide terrace that overlooked the

city. The light was just right, like deep yellow roses with red

tips. The buildings shimmered in the light, some silver, some

orange. Therese stood by the door, seemingly taking in the view

and breathing in the cool evening air. Bo and Carmen passed by

her, one gently taking her hand to lead her the rest of the way

out. She seemed a little surprised at the contact, but fell into step

alongside them.

They stood toward the end of the terrace, the city and sunset

bursting into the background beyond. Therese took a few deep

sips of her wine, obviously still battling her nerves as Bo and

Carmen stood next to her. Lauren approached, offering her a

comforting smile as she took her near-empty glass and set it on

a small table.

“There are only two things you need to worry about here,

Therese,” Lauren said. “One, relax.” She approached again and

began positioning her, moving her arms to help with the stiffness

and fingering her hair to let some errant strands come down

around her face.

“And number two?” she asked, breathing heavily as Lauren

backed away.

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FLESH and BOnE

“Have fun.”

She nodded and took several quick breaths as Lauren paced

and then squatted, searching for the perfect capture.

“Okay. Breathe easy, Therese,” Lauren encouraged from

behind her lens. “Let’s go.” At her command, Carmen tossed

her arm over Therese’s shoulders while Bo wrapped an arm

around her waist. They leaned in with easy smiles, all in worn

jeans, casual and sexy like they had been close friends for years.

Therese wore a dark brown tank top that brought out the light

brown sugarcane color of her skin and accentuated her eyes.

Lauren took shot after shot, hypnotized. Therese relaxed,

following the lead of her seasoned companions. They laughed,

held hands, embraced. Eventually, Bo took off her shirt, showing

off her lean muscles and white sheer bra. Therese openly stared,

seemingly mesmerized at the darkness of her nipples showing

through the fabric. It was a pivotal moment and Lauren didn’t

want Therese to grow uncomfortable.

“Therese, why don’t you come stand by me? I need some

intimate shots here.” Surprisingly, she seemed disappointed.

She opened her mouth to protest but then thought better of it.

With hesitance, she walked toward Lauren and turned to watch

as Lauren continued to click away. Bo and Carmen immediately

rubbed together, Carmen unbuttoning Bo’s jeans with fingers

that slid up and down her abdomen. They kissed, soft, slow, and

teasing.

“Carmen, open your blouse a little.”

She did as instructed and they kissed again, short, tugging

kisses. Their hands caressed and searched, their bodies coming to

life with the fire of desire. It was a beautiful scene with beautiful

light. Lauren lowered her camera and found Therese watching

intently. Brushstrokes of color darkened her cheeks, and she

seemed to be holding her breath.

From what Lauren knew, it had been at least six weeks since

Therese had experienced any intimacy. She had been holed up

in her apartment all alone wondering where her relationship had

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gone wrong. And now, her desire, which had been buried deep

with all the recent trouble in her life, was sparking to existence

once again.

“Let’s take a break.” Lauren placed a hand on Therese’s

shoulder. She jerked, startled, and tore her eyes away from Bo

and Carmen.

“I’m losing light,” Lauren said, looking off into the growing

night. “We’ll have to go inside.”

Therese nodded and the four went back inside the loft.

Lauren busied herself readying her camera for more.

Therese seemed more at ease and even asked for more

wine.“Please help yourself. It’s on the counter,” Lauren said.

She continued working on her camera. After going over

every photo, she ejected the memory card and inserted a new

one. So far, the pictures had turned out beautifully.

Her equipment ready for more, she moved into the main

room, turning on a few lamps as she circled the open space. The

candles were still burning throughout the entire loft, flickering

soft light. She pushed the plush red velvet couch from the center

of the room to the back wall where the off-white drapes acted

as a backdrop. She took a step back with her hands on her hips.

Ready.

As she knelt behind a tripod, Bo and Carmen joined her,

making themselves comfortable on the sofa. Therese came as

well, standing next to Lauren.

“Your check’s on the table,” Lauren said, maneuvering

the camera. Carmen and Bo seemed lost in their own world as

they started touching one another with light, purposeful fingers,

trailing up and down exposed necks and arms. Lauren didn’t look

away as her camera began to click.

“Pardon?” Therese asked.

“Your check. It’s on the table. Along with the memory card

with all the photos. I wrote down which one I would like to keep.”

Lauren glanced over at her. “With your permission, of course.”

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FLESH and BOnE

“You mean, that’s it? I’m done?”

Lauren, changing her mind about the shot, released the

camera from the tripod, and stood, moving closer to the models.

“Yep.”

Therese was quiet, and Lauren could sense her hesitation.

And maybe, just maybe, more than a little disappointment.

Lauren looked at her and her face said it all.

“You did a great job.”

She met Lauren’s eyes but seemed to have no words.

“I hope you had fun.” Lauren smiled, meaning it.

“I did,” she said. “I had a lot of fun.” The disappointment

was high in her voice. “I just thought you would need me for

more is all.”

Lauren studied her for a moment, trying to see into her, to

know exactly how she felt and what all she could and would be

willing to handle.

“It’s not that I no longer need you,” Lauren said with soft

sincerity. “It’s that I didn’t think you would be comfortable for

these next set of photographs.”

“Oh.”

“But you’re more than welcome to hang out for a while if

you want.”

“Hang out?”

“Sure.” Lauren gave another smile. “And watch.”

Lauren felt her answer, didn’t need her to voice it. It was

heavy and real, thickening the air around her.

Therese wanted to remain. She wanted to watch.

Lauren refocused on her models and nodded, camera ready.

Carmen ran her hands up to Bo’s breasts, massaging and pinching

the nipples through the bra. Bo sighed heavily and the candlelight

reflected the dance of their tongues.

Therese stood staring, mesmerized. Lauren moved about

carefully, poised like a cat, capturing quickly and efficiently.

Carmen removed Bo’s bra and tossed it aside. Her hands

moved back to her nipples where they pinched the exposed skin

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for real. Bo cried out softly and reached for Carmen’s shirt. She

unbuttoned it slowly, tongue still dancing in her mouth as she did

so. The flickering light caught Carmen’s dark skin beautifully.

Muscled shoulders and a defined chest came into view as the

shirt was peeled off and tossed to the floor. The white of her bra

contrasted sharply but shortly as Bo nearly tore it from her body.

Carmen moaned a yes, helping to discard the bra, her mouth

continuing to suck on Bo’s tongue.

Lauren took shot after shot, moving quickly.

“Good,” she said. “Good, now, Carmen, move behind her.”

The two stopped kissing and Carmen stood and walked

behind the couch. Bo faced forward and leaned back, welcoming

Carmen’s eager hands, which immediately began to massage

and titillate. Bo’s eyes fell shut as she moved with the caresses,

arching her back and offering herself further. Carmen massaged

and pinched her nipples, running her hands down her taut

abdomen and back up. Then she dipped her head and kissed her

neck and shoulder, at first lightly and then heavier, licking with

her tongue and nibbling with her teeth. Bo reacted vehemently,

grabbing a fistful of short kinky hair, pushing herself onto the

back of the couch. She kissed Carmen back, still holding her

head while her other hand hurriedly unfastened her own jeans

once again.

Carmen roughly squeezed a nipple and Bo pulled away, crying

out softly. They stared at one another, breathing rapidly, eyes

burning. Carmen mouthed something, words of encouragement,

of desire, of pleading, Lauren did not know. Then she took Bo’s

breast into her mouth, tugging long and wet on the center, causing

Bo to release her hold and tilt her chin toward the ceiling. Then

her hand drifted down to Bo’s waistline where she slipped it

inside her jeans and began to move it back and forth.

Bo cried out again and spread her legs. Carmen held her

tightly, wrapping her other arm around her while she sucked on

her breast and rubbed at her flesh.

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FLESH and BOnE

Lauren glanced at Therese. She was standing very still,

mouth slightly open, face flushed. Her eyes were intense and one

hand was opening and closing at her side.

Bo tugged Carmen away from her breast and kissed her,

tongues glistening in the light. Bo groaned and rocked a little into

her hand and then they both looked to Therese, mouths moving

with moans and impassioned pleas, eyes heavy with desire.

Carmen eased her hand from Bo’s jeans and she moved it

slowly, tracing up her torso to between her breasts and up to her

neck. When she reached her mouth she spread her fingers and

pressed them against her lips. Then she leaned forward and snuck

her tongue out, licking her fingers and probing into Bo’s mouth.

The sight was stirring, torrid beyond words, reaching down into

Lauren and clutching her stomach.

Next to her, a soft noise came from Therese, and Lauren

watched as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. The pulse

that beat in the nook of her collarbone surged madly beneath her

skin. Her tongue swept across her lips quickly. Then she took

two small steps toward the couch without looking down, as if her

body were on autopilot.

The models stopped, nearly breathless, and looked at her.

Bo stepped down from the couch and lowered her jeans. Her

gaze was locked with Therese’s as she eased out of them, one long

leg at a time. She wore no panties and she stood unabashedly for

a long moment until Carmen joined her, stepping out of her own

jeans and panties.

They kissed again, more possessively, with teeth pulling on

lips and tongues demanding entry. The air grew thicker, charged

with the sounds of human lechery, wet, hungry mouths and moans

and sighs and hurried breathing.

Carmen pushed Bo back to the couch where she again sat on

the back of it, legs open. Carmen went around and again kissed

on her torso, breast, and upper arm. She slid her hand down to

her center, where she slipped it into her bare flesh to rub. Bo

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tensed and then relaxed against it, her bones suddenly melting.

Soft moans escaped her and then she grinned and groaned and

held Therese’s eyes.

“It feels good,” she said. “So damn good.”

Lauren held her camera tightly.

“Can you see how good it feels?” Bo asked.

Therese stood staring, so still and erect Lauren knew she

would tip at the slightest of touches.

Carmen stilled her hand and stepped onto the small stool

positioned behind the couch. She ran her fingertips up and down

Bo’s sides and used her mouth on her neck and shoulders once

again. This time she sucked harder, sank her teeth in further, and

squeezed her nipples firmer. Bo called out, her face tight and her

eyes closed. The sensations seemed to snap against her like a

curling whip, straightening her spine and heating her skin.

She opened her eyes and looked to Therese. The grin was

gone and in its place was a seriousness and a wanting so strong

Lauren could feel it crawling throughout her own body, rushing

to the pooling wet heat between her legs.

Bo’s gaze continued to bore into Therese as Carmen fed

ravenously on her neck and shoulders. Then slowly, Bo ran her

hands up the insides of her own thighs. When she reached her

flesh she slid one hand inward and framed her clit with her long

fingers. She began to vibrate herself, jerking her fingers side to

side in a rapid motion.

Quickly, she sucked in a sharp breath. Then she moaned and

nearly shut her eyes.

“Come here,” she said to Therese.

Lauren held her breath. Therese didn’t move for a few long

seconds. But then, slowly, she stepped forward.

Lauren watched, poised with pent-up desire. Bo urged her

onward and reached out for her once she was at the couch. She

pulled her forward and kissed her with eager lips. A long sigh

came from Therese and she released it into Bo, who held her fast,

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FLESH and BOnE

tasting her and testing her for a long while before they parted.

When they did, Bo lifted Therese’s tank top from her body.

Therese stood still and let her, and then allowed her bra to be

removed as well.

Then Bo yanked her forward by the wrist and watched as

Carmen too kissed her hungrily. Bo took advantage and sucked

her exposed neck, causing her to sigh some more. She lightly

caressed her breasts and pinched the nipples ever so slightly

between her fingers.

Lauren clicked away, focusing on the moving muscles of

Therese’s back as she took in the pleasure. Therese was breathless

when Carmen pulled away and even more so when Bo looked at

her and said, “Now your jeans.”

Therese didn’t seem unsure but rather unable to make her

body follow commands. Her hands no longer trembled, but they

were slow moving and clumsy as she fumbled with the buttons.

Bo slid off the back of the couch and sat in front of her. She

held her hands and looked at her.

“Do you want me to do it?”

Therese breathed deeply. “Yes.”

Bo released the buttons and slid the jeans down carefully.

Lauren moved to the side and readied her camera as Bo lowered

the panties.

When she was completely nude, Bo appraised her with first

her eyes and then her fingers. She traced her skin up and down,

whispered words only Therese could hear, and then lightly kissed

her abdomen.

Therese inhaled and held her head, allowing her eyes to fall

closed. Carmen moved from behind the couch to behind Therese

where she placed her hands on her hips and trailed light kisses of

her own down her back. Therese stiffened readily as Carmen ran

her tongue first down and then up the center of her back.

Bo quickly stood and went to the side of the couch. Swiftly

she pulled a lever and lowered the back so that it lay flush with

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the front. The red velvet was now more like a bed, vast and

shimmering, waiting and wanting. Bo lay on it, head toward the

front, and Carmen took Therese’s hand and led her on with her

knees.

“I want you on me,” Bo said, holding out her hand. Carmen

crawled further on and settled between Bo’s legs, licking hungrily

right away.

“Please,” Bo said, the pleasure quickly overtaking her. “I

want you to feel what I feel.”

Therese watched as Carmen spread her further open and

flicked her tongue back and forth hurriedly. Bo tensed and faded,

crying out softly.

“I’ve never done this before,” Therese said softly, eyes still

trained on Carmen’s tongue.

Lauren lowered her camera, more than surprised and

confused as to exactly what she meant.

“Never?” Bo asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” Bo tightened her hands in Carmen’s hair, trying

to still her, but Carmen wouldn’t let up.

“I’ve never allowed anyone before.”

Lauren knew Therese didn’t stay in relationships for very

long. Now she had a hunch as to why.

“But this,” Therese continued, looking at them all very

slowly. “This is different.”

Lauren’s mind searched for meaning, trying to understand.

There was no one judging here, no one asking for her heart,

for her life, for her devotion. Here there was only pleasure and

beauty, completely wild and free, captured only for a moment

and then set free again.

Carmen finally stopped and rose to her knees. Therese met

her gaze and leaned toward her, closing her eyes. As the distance

between them grew shorter, so seemingly did Therese’s resolve.

And when they met, they kissed, and Carmen nearly fell forward

• 156 •

FLESH and BOnE

as Therese took hold of her lips in a fury of built and released

passion.

She was tasting Bo and Carmen together and she did so with

a new hunger. One that came with groans of lust and hard, fast

thrusts of her tongue. Bo sat up and joined in, kissing Therese’s

breasts, eagerly pulling them into her mouth and then swirling

her tongue around each nipple until Therese grabbed her head

and held her away.

“Something’s happening,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I’m

feeling everything here.” She lowered her hand to her center,

where her light brown hair was curly and moist. Bo lay back

down and reached for her hip.

“That means it’s time,” she said. “Come here.”

Therese hesitated for only a split second and then she

straddled her and allowed Carmen, who straddled Bo’s torso, to

help her move forward. Her thighs trembled as she rested her

knees near the sides of Bo’s face.

“Now,” Bo said, encouraging her. “Lower yourself to me.”

Therese eased downward and Bo groaned in a welcome,

pushing out her tongue to lick her right away. Therese cried out a

little and then closed her eyes as Bo licked harder and then took

her clit into her mouth and sucked.

“Oh, oh my—oh my God.” She pressed her lips together and

tightened her eyes. Tendons in her neck stood out as she began to

pump her hips over Bo’s face. Behind her, Carmen massaged her

breasts and bit and sucked on her neck. She whispered words of

passion and hunger into her ear.

“Something’s—something’s happening,” she said as Bo

sucked on, wrapping her hands over her thighs. Lauren heard

Bo release briefly and she caught sight of her tongue as Therese

rubbed her flesh against it, forward and back and back and

forward. Then Bo refastened and Therese quickened her hips.

“Oh God, oh yes, like that. Please, like that.”

Carmen held her tighter, her arm curved up and over her

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shoulder. Therese bucked like she was on a horse, one hand

loose, her arm flailing. Her torso flexed and her breasts swayed.

She licked her lips and then bit down on them.

“What’s happening, something’s happening. Oh, it’s getting

bigger. Bigger. Oh.” She jerked her hips and her eyes flew open.

She locked them with Lauren. “It’s coming, oh God, it’s coming.

It’s—” And then her mouth fell open and her eyes widened even

more and she rocked and rocked, neck strained with small, hard

sounds coming out of her chest. Then her eyes squeezed shut

again and in another split second they flew open and she said,

“Oh, Lauren,” and another wave of pleasure ripped through her

again. She jerked even faster, whipping her hips, fucking Bo’s

face.“I—I—oh God. Oh God!” And then another came and

she slowed her hips and moved them slow and hard and very

purposely all over her face. “Yes, oh God, yes,” she said, fucking

Bo’s mouth long and slow. “Oh fuck, take me, take all of me.”

And then her body went slack and Carmen wrapped her in her

arms and held her tightly.

The room went completely silent. Therese slouched, chest

rising and falling quickly. Bo moaned and snuck her tongue out

for a few more random licks, causing Therese to jerk and beg for

her to stop.

After several moments Carmen eased her backward and

they both sat next to Bo, who sat up and smiled. In a surprising

gesture, Therese reached for her face and kissed her and then

she watched as Carmen kissed her too. The three leaned on one

another and laughed softly. Carmen said something amorous and

kissed Bo again, pushing her back down and positioning herself

between her legs, eager to finish the job. Therese watched in

glazed amazement, looking very much like the lazy smoke of a

spent firecracker.

But when Bo came she was right there, at her mouth and she

kissed her, seemingly wanting to take it in and swallow it down

deep. Then she watched again as Bo sat up and fucked Carmen,

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shoving her fingers up and in and out, so hard and fast Carmen

was crying out in Spanish. When she came, Therese was there

with her as well, kissing her, holding her tight, swallowing the

pleasure down whole.

They kissed and kissed and Therese couldn’t seem to get

enough. She was breathless and limp when they pulled apart, yet

she was flushed and her eyes were ablaze and seeking.

Legs weak and unable to stand any longer, Lauren set down

her camera and pulled up a chair. She crossed her legs against her

pulsing flesh and lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. She watched

with desire as Carmen and Bo lay Therese down once again.

This time they spread her open as far as she would go and they

both went at her clit with their tongues. Flicking and teasing and

pressing and licking, tongues fencing for the clit, attacking the

sides and teasing the tip.

Therese thrashed her head and strained her neck, grabbing

both their heads and clenching their hair. They brought her close

to orgasm quickly, and then Bo pushed inside with her fingers

and Therese nearly sat up and called out in ecstasy, her throat

sounding tight and hoarse.

The cry stretched and broke, and she bucked her hips wildly

and clung to them for a long, long while before the cry fell from

the air altogether, swallowed by silence and the flickering of the

candlelight.

Lauren sat and watched, taking in the beauty of the desire and

the passion. She extinguished her cigarette and stood, retrieving

her camera.

v

She had been in her makeshift office for almost an hour

when Therese came looking for her.

“Can I come in?” She was dressed, but her face was still

flushed and her neck was smudged with vampire-like kisses.

“Sure.” Lauren rubbed the back of her neck and stood, new

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memory card in hand. She gave it to Therese. “This has all the

latest.” Therese took it slowly and began to look around at the

two walls. Frame after frame hung side by side, wrapping around

the room. She went to each one and stared, some of them she

touched lightly with her fingertips.

“Your collection,” she said, finally looking back at Lauren.

“Yes.” Lauren joined her. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like

to add yours to it.”

Therese laughed softly and then stopped when she realized

Lauren was serious.

Lauren turned her laptop around. “This is the one I want.”

It was Therese, on her knees, back arched, torso flexed, eyes

open with pure uninhibited pleasure. Her mouth was slightly

parted, the tendons in her neck taut, just before she was about to

call out.

The photo was Therese at her deepest, darkest level. She

was coming and coming hard.

“That was my very first time,” she confessed, almost as if to

herself. She traced a finger over the image of her face. “I’d never

come before.”

Lauren knew it was special. It was the best photo she’d taken

thus far. Beautifully raw and captivating. A real woman coming

for the very first time.

“It’s something, isn’t it? The way we all look when it

happens,” Therese said, glancing around at some of the other

photos.

Lauren agreed. “To me it is the most raw, uninhibited,

stunning, and stimulating moment I could ever capture.”

Therese met her gaze and then looked back down at her own

image. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” She paused, as if lost in thought. “You

want this one?”

Lauren swallowed hard, the photo playing the chords of her

libido just as the live version had. “If you don’t mind.”

“You won’t use it anywhere else?”

“It will hang on my wall and my wall alone. Forever.”

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Therese nodded. “Okay.”

Lauren smiled. “Thank you, Therese.”

Therese returned it with a tired, easy smile of her own. “No,

thank you.” And then as her smile grew into a grin, her eyes

sparkled, and she asked Lauren for one last request.

“You watched me, now I want to watch you.”

• 161 •

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n iS FOR naugHty

For the last two days, only two words ran through my

mind.

Franco Saulis.

He was worse than most, a man who benefited by controlling

others. Namely, human slavery in the form of prostitution. The

women he took were young, many of them underage. He kept

them by physical force, brainwashing, and good old-fashioned

threats to their lives.

Unfortunately for most, one or two of those threats were

continuously carried out regardless of performance.

So when I arrived at his house, I felt a wonderful buzzing

of anticipation and the metal like taste of vengeance on the tip of

my tongue.

Outside his house just after midnight, all was quiet. The

skeletal palo verdes and mesquites blew in the oven-hot breeze.

He lived out in the desert where the earth was parched and

desolate, where anything in existence that ever wanted to thrive

would never want to be. Strangely, I felt right at home.

I moved like the night, quiet and dark, first killing his power

and then entering his garage, where I shoved open the folding

door. I worked swiftly and hurriedly, setting up my grand stage

and readying it for the show. Then I entered his house by cutting a

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small circle in the glass of his back door through which I slipped

my hand in and popped the lock.

The security alarm beeped when I opened the door, but I was

expecting this, knowing his brand of alarm well. Through the

kitchen and living room I went, hurrying down the hallway.

I found him at the alarm panel in his bedroom, nude and

cursing. I switched on my strong flashlight, and two young,

frightened prostitutes screamed and jumped from the bed when

they saw me.

“Turn off the alarm,” I said, pulling my Glock from my dark

jeans and aiming it squarely at him.

He jerked and held up his hands, his face cowering from

the light. His body was what I call skinny fat, long and thin, but

saggy, covered in ugly, coarse black hairs. He disgusted me on

many levels, and I had to look at his face and clench my jaw in

order to not turn away.

“Turn it off,” I said again. “And you better only push four

buttons.” When he remained still with his hands up and trembling,

I fired a shot and hit the top of his foot. He screamed like he was

being skinned alive and I rushed at him, forcing the gun to his

temple. “Do it,” I said.

Whining loudly, he typed in the code and dropped to cradle

his bleeding foot.

I swung around to the girls. “Get dressed.”

They obeyed quickly and I pulled Franco up by his ear.

“To the garage,” I instructed, walking behind them, gun

aimed at the back of Franco’s head. He limped and sobbed,

begging and pleading at me. His spine was as weak as his soul.

We walked inside the open garage door and I showed off

all the explosives I had planted. I openly admired his classic

cars, focusing on his new Shelby GT, which I knew was not yet

insured.

He was already crying when I shoved him over to his

standing safe. With my gun pressed to his head, he opened the

door with unsteady hands. I counted a hundred thousand dollars

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or so and had the girls drop the stacks into a black trash bag. I

gave the last stack to them and told them to share it and to take

off. They were now free.

One cried and the other thanked me profusely. Neither said

good-bye to Franco as they hurried from the garage.

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me, kid,” I said, staring at

his skinny legs covered in a swarm of black hairs. I forced him

outside and we faced the garage. Standing there in the dry desert

dirt, I fished in my pockets and pulled out a cluster of handheld

explosives.

Kneeling, I began to tape them onto his penis, grateful to be

wearing my leather gloves. Sobs shook his body, and when he

realized what I was doing, he pushed me away and tried to run.

I picked up my gun and shot him again, this time in the ass and

the back of the leg.

He took a few more difficult steps, collapsed, and cried

some more. I shoved him onto his back and finished taping the

explosives on. Then I made him sit up and I forced a detonator

in his hand.

Immediately, he shook his head and drooled out some no,

no, nos.

“Push the fucking button,” I said.

He cried harder.

“I don’t have all night, Franco. Push the fucking button.” I

shoved my Glock to his skull.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “Tell Tiny I’m sorry. I will leave the

girls alone.”

“It’s too late. You’ve done your damage. Now pay the

price.”

“No, no, no. Please. I swear to you. I will stop.”

“No more girls,” I said.

“I swear.”

“Ever.”

“Okay.”

“Your days of pimping and abusing are over. Say it.”

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“Yes, yes, I swear. Please.” He fumbled with his penis, trying

to strip the explosives off. But his fingers didn’t want to work.

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes.” His body quivered and slimy drool stained his chest,

reflecting the moonlight.

And then he peed.

Sighing, I took the remote from him and told him I

believed him. He seemed relieved and surprised so I continued,

remembering three dead girls and dozens of others, raped, beaten,

and abused.

“But just in case you’re forgetful, here’s what’s going to

happen if you go back on your word.”

He screamed as I pushed the button. The garage rocked with

a massive explosion. The ground shook, knocking us both back.

A huge fireball rolled up into the dark sky.

Getting my bearings, I stood and found Franco curled in the

dirt sobbing, his hands cupped over his penis. The heat from the

flames pressed against my skin as I nudged him with my foot.

“Get up, motherfucker.” He rolled over, his face contorted

with fear. He moved his hands and sobbed some more as he

found his penis intact.

I bent over him and stared hard into his eyes.

“Keep your promise, Franco. Or next time it will be your

dick.”My name is Diem Rushton. I am a vigilante.

v

The next day I entered the gentlemen’s club through the

large double doors and squinted into the vast dim room. The cool

air attacked the thin sheen of sweat on my skin, threatening to

freeze it rather than evaporate it. Casually, I wiped my brow and

made my way to the bar, the black trash bag in hand.

I panned the room, more than a little disappointed when

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I didn’t see the sexy brunette who sometimes waited tables.

Instead, I noted the black shiny catwalk glimmering under the

colorful lights, and I counted eight bald heads bobbing at stage

level. Loud music started over the speakers, the bass thumping

quickly as I eased myself onto a high-backed stool.

The bartender recognized me and slid a cold Miller Lite

into my hand. I took a swig and turned back toward the stage. A

curvaceous little blonde pranced down the runway and grabbed

on to a pole. Her large breasts, too perfectly round to be natural,

continued to shake as she swung herself around.

“Diem!” Next to me, a strong hand gripped my shoulder. I

lowered my beer, and club owner and longtime friend Tiny De

Martino cupped my face with his short, stubby fingers. His hand

was warm and soft just like his eyes and he smelled strongly of

Drakkar Noir.

“My girl,” he said to me with great affection. “Come, let’s

make words.”

Per his usual, he led me across the room on quick-moving

legs. We went through a doorway and down a long hallway lit

with weak lights positioned above the baseboards. Turning right

we entered another dim room with large leather chairs, a couch,

and a few small lamps on accent tables. It smelled different from

the main room. Less stifling cologne and beer and more like the

subtle fresh rainforest air fresheners you hang on your rearview

mirror. I liked the room much better than the bar, having been in

it at least a dozen times before. Tiny always feared that his actual

office was a target for listening devices, so he held meetings with

me in here where they swept daily for bugs and admittance was

strictly regulated.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the large couch. I eased onto the

leather cushion and watched as Tiny did the same, the stereo

remote in his hand. After turning the powerful system on and

adjusting the volume to voice level, he turned sideways and

wiggled his eyebrows.

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“Franco is so mad.” He slapped his short thigh and laughed

heartily. His pant legs rose and I smiled back, amused by his

orange and black striped socks.

“You shouldn’t have any further problems with him,” I said.

I handed him the trash bag full of cash. “Here’s some severance

pay.”Tiny dug through it, his eyes lighting up like a kid on

Christmas morning. He handed me three stacks and set the bag

aside.“I thank you, Diem. I thank you so much.” He hugged me,

little arms wrapped around me.

Franco had caused him a lot of trouble. Seducing his girls

and then holding them hostage, forcing them into his prostitution

ring. Tiny was good to his girls and he thought of them all as his

family. Losing them to Franco hurt his soul, and he feared for

their safety. He had paid for and stood at attention at more than

one funeral.

“I owe you. I owe you too much.” He laughed and stood,

bag in hand. Walking to the door, he turned and said, “But today

I have a surprise. Wait here.”

Five minutes hadn’t even gone by when she entered, all

things sex wrapped into one.

“Hello,” she said after closing and locking the door. She

stared at me and stood still, allowing me to take in her short dark

hair, big brown eyes, thick lips, and lengthy five-foot-nine body.

“Hello.” We’d never spoken before, just held brief heated

gazes as she busily waited tables.

“I heard what you did,” she said, walking toward me in a

short dark skirt and gray sleeveless blouse.

“Just doing my job.”

She stood before me and looked into my eyes.

“It was a job very well done.”

She smiled and I caught her scent. Calvin Klein’s Eternity.

She reached for the remote and switched the tuner over to a

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CD. As the silence searched for the sound to start, she returned

the remote and reached down to stroke my face.

“I’m here to thank you.”

I swallowed hard. “You don’t need to.”

“I know. But I’ve been wanting to talk to you. So when I

heard what you did, I told Tiny I wanted to personally thank you.

With a private dance.”

I struggled for my voice. She didn’t normally dance. Only

waited tables. Tiny had said she was a grad student with a healthy

amount of self-respect. He made sure others respected that.

The music started. She turned it up nice and loud and

Beyoncé’s “Naughty Girl” began to pound out.

Her hand left my face like a whisper and she started moving

her hips. My skin began to burn, and she shoved me back

against the couch and started in on her blouse. One button at a

time, painfully slow, she gyrated and opened her shirt. Her face

was serious in a sexy seductiveness, lips pursed slightly, eyes

blazing.

Down and down her hands went, peeling open her blouse

and skimming her defined abdomen. Palms flat, she moved them

up and down and then stripped the shirt from her body.

I inhaled sharply, hit at once by the beautiful glow of her

amber skin against the black satin bra. Then down went her palms

again, this time to her skirt, where her fingers undid the clasp and

her hips shook it off, one inch at a time, eventually revealing a

pair of matching black satin panties.

My heart thudded into my throat and all the way out to

my fingertips. Her eyes held mine captive as she slid the skirt

down and off her legs. Then she swung her hips to the beat and

straddled me, grabbing my hands and placing them on her ass.

Her body tightened as she moved, waving herself into me, her

spine as limber as a snake.

I flushed and burned hotter, the scent of her as real and as

powerful as the heat of her skin. She put her hand on my shoulder

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and arched into me again and again, like she was riding in a saddle

and moving with the beast beneath her. Her ass was round, soft,

and full. My clit ached as I held her buttocks like two fleshy

globes, feeling her every move and sashay.

I imagined smacking it in the heat of lovemaking, of sinking

my teeth into each cheek as she came.

As if hearing my thoughts, she groaned and bent down to

my ear.

“Squeeze me harder,” she said as she reached back to unhook

her bra. With it loose she lowered her arms and pulled it slowly

from her chest. Her eyes scorched me as she slipped it off and

tossed it aside.

A short, sharp breath escaped me. Her breasts were the size

of my hands, the nipples dark like fudge. My mouth at once

watered and she again grabbed my hands. She placed them on

her, each one cupping a soft, weighty breast.

She sighed and thrust her chest forward, stretching her neck

back. She held my wrists and moved them faster, encouraging me

to massage her. Then she looked at me and pinched her nipples

from between my fingers.

“Ah, ah, yes.” Her body kept moving, dancing into my

hands. Her eyes fell closed and she pinched herself again and

groaned. She held my gaze as she moved. Told me without

words what she liked and what she loved. What she longed for

and had to have.

I squeezed my fingers, holding her nipples captive. She cried

softly and pressed her hands over mine, rubbing herself. “Baby,”

she said, breathless. “You’re about to get one hell of a dance.”

Then, with another groan of desire, she stilled our hands and

crawled from me to stand.

Music still throbbing, she again moved her hips and rubbed

her palms up and down her body. She moved so fluently and so

seductively, it was hard to believe she didn’t do it for money. She

was made to move, built to seduce.

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FLESH and BOnE

She continued to stare into my eyes as she danced, hands

drifting to her panties. There she dipped her fingers into the

waistband and pushed them down. Down, down, down they

went. Off one long, graceful leg and then the other. I studied the

glimmer of her waxed skin, the sleek muscles of her thighs.

She watched me as well, spinning her panties around her

finger before tossing them into my lap. Then, with another

smoldering look, she turned around and danced, running her

fingers through her hair and down the sides of her body. They

played over her hips and then rounded the curve of her ass.

She shook it to the beat, short and sexy and then longer and

hypnotizing.

I breathed heavily through my parted lips, awakened and

consumed by her. She turned her head, glancing at me from the

side. Throwing me another grin, she bent over, touched her toes,

and then flexed upward, parallel to the ground, dipping the small

of her back.

She waved her body again and came back up slowly, gripping

her ankles and then skimming her hands up her legs as she went.

She turned and slapped her ass, watching me closely from the

corner of her eyes.

I sat gripping my thighs, the satin panties softly kissing my

skin and my heart running away with my libido.

Another firm slap made me blink and she turned, deliberately

and slowly. Facing me once again, she danced and slithered, the

music somehow moving through her. Her hands went low to her

pussy and teased with her fingertips. I saw the glint of slickness

below the short hairs and I knew she was just as excited, that it

wasn’t all an act.

A hot shot of thrill surged through me and I felt my eyes

narrow in further desire. Her catlike body continued to move and

she could see the change in me, I could tell by the way she parted

her lips and lifted her hand to her mouth. Her pink tongue came

out and licked her front two fingers.

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Then slowly she lowered them, trailing them over her skin to

her pubis once again. There, she first sighed and then she touched

herself.

I let out a noise myself as I watched the two fingers strum

alongside her clit, mingling with her wetness, opening up her

soul. Her flickering brown eyes spoke of the pleasure’s welcome,

allowing her fingers to stroke the inner chords of her desire.

She took a step closer, her need mounting. She stilled her

hand and brought it to my face and pressed it to my lips.

“Taste,” she mouthed and I did so at once, running my tongue

along her fingers, tasting her sweet arousal. Her eyes flashed

dangerously and she straddled me and grabbed my hand.

Hurriedly, she pulled it toward her center, shoving it into her

painfully wet and hot flesh. She took my cheek in her other hand

and made small noises as she stared into my eyes.

“Inside me,” she breathed. “Now.”

I strummed her flesh up and down and then dipped the tips

of my fingers to her opening. She held me tightly, one hand

squeezing my shoulder, the other gripping my wrist.

“Please,” she begged.

With two fingers I went inside, and she sank down on me

with a groan and an internal clenching.

“Ah, fuck,” she whispered, shoving her hips back and forth.

She wrapped her other arm around me and leaned in as she

desperately rode my fingers. “You make me feel so naughty,”

she said.

And then she straightened her arms and leaned back,

bouncing up and down on my fingers, using her thighs as springs.

I curled my fingers and pushed against her walls, flicking the tip

of her cervix back and forth.

Her nails dug into my upper arms and her abdominal muscles

tightened like she was doing sit-ups. She called out over the last

of the music.

“Yes. Ah, fuck, yes. Yes!” And then she screamed and

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bounced and yanked herself up to me where she singed me with

a deep, hot kiss.

Her body continued to move as her tongue swirled and her

lips captured. Madly she thrust, until her body gave in and went

limp atop me. She tore her mouth from mine and audibly gasped

for breath.

Soon the room was quiet with only the deep rhythm of our

hearts beating. I could feel hers pulsing around my fingers. She

raised her head and looked into my eyes. Hers were watery but

starkly clear, as if they’d just been washed and she was able to

see through them for the first time.

“That was so bad,” she said, laughing. And then, with a

deepening of her strained voice she added, “And so very good.”

She leaned in and bit my neck, causing me to jerk.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” she asked.

I watched her closely, in awe of her even then at her most

vulnerable. She looked at me with openness, with honesty, with

her same consistent confidence.

“No.”

“I’m thinking I want more.” She trailed a finger down my

cheek. “I’m thinking I want those thumbs.” She eyed my hands.

“I’m thinking I want them on my clit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still want me inside you?”

“Yes.”

Carefully, I placed my thumbs along the sides of her clit. She

pulsed her hips and sighed.

“Yes, oh yes. Right there.”

I rubbed her, massaging her hot full cleft, pressing into it

along the sides, feeling it twitch. She laughed as she moved.

“It’s good. Fuck yeah, it’s good. Mmm, can you tell how

well I like it? Am I tight around your fingers? Am I soaking them

with my excitement?”

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“Yes.”

“Do you like it? Do you like the way I feel?”

“Yes.”

“I love the way it feels.” She kissed me, sucked hard on my

bottom lip. “I want to taste you. I bet you would taste so good

right now.” Her hips quickened and I knew she was close. I could

feel her cinching around my fingers, feel the swollen heat of her

flesh between my thumbs. “I want so many things. But I’m going

to wait. I’m going to wait until I can get you all alone in your

bed.”She reached for my face, held me captive with her hands and

eyes. Her hips jerked and she struggled for breath.

“And then I’m going to spread you open and taste you—”

She neared climax as she spoke. “Going to—oh God—lick you

and suck you—take you in my mouth—make you come with my

tongue—”

She stared fiercely into my eyes as her body convulsed all

around my hands.

“Would you like that?”

My voice had vanished.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

I nodded and swallowed with difficulty. “Yes.”

She threw her head back and cried out. “Oh yes, oh fuck yes.

I’m thinking of you…of you.”

Her hands slipped from my face to cling to my shirt as she

leaned back, the last of the orgasm claiming her.

Her chest heaved and her skin glistened. Her stomach was

taut, a faint vein running down into her hip.

Silence filled the room. The music had stopped. My hand

ached but I hadn’t noticed until now. All I could feel was her.

Wrapped down on to me. Hot and tight. Insanely wet.

When her eyes opened, she slowly pulled herself forward.

Her fingers remained tightly clutching the fabric of my shirt. She

smiled coyly.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asked.

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I was thinking many things, but one in particular. “I’m

wondering why you work here.” She belonged on a real stage, on

a movie screen, in front of a classroom, or at the top of a high-rise

building…in my bed, in my life. She didn’t belong here.

“I need the money,” she said simply. “Men tip more when

there’s a naked woman on the stage.”

“You don’t dance,” I stated.

“No. And I won’t.”

I smiled. “You did for me.”

She laughed and kissed me softly. Her voice was ragged from

spent passion, and nothing had ever sounded so sexy. “You’re not

a man. And I told you before, you make me feel naughty.”

She released my shirt and pressed her palms over it in an

attempt to smooth it out. She did the same to my lips with her

fingertips.

Her eyes told me she had more to say, but instead she climbed

off me and stood to dress. I watched, knowing that I could for all

eternity and it still not be enough.

“So, do many people make you feel that way?”

She refastened her skirt. “No.” Her mouth tipped

mischievously. “Just you so far.” She bent and retrieved her bra

and wrapped it around her waist to fasten it. As she turned it

around and slid her arms into the straps she said, “How about

you? Do you normally go around beating up bad guys?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, so this isn’t just a one-time gig, then?” She picked up

her blouse and slipped her arms through the holes.

“No.” I stood, not wanting her to go. The feeling was new to

me. Exciting and terrifying.

“Well, then,” she said as she buttoned. “Looks like we both

have our naughty little secrets. I work here, and,” she pulled me

into her arms, “you make the world a little safer.”

She held my hand and pressed her lips to my palm. I answered

by kissing her lips and cupping her ass.

She moaned and laughed softy as we pulled apart.

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ROnica BLack

“Can I see you again?” I asked, at that moment wanting

nothing more.

“You don’t even have to ask. I meant what I said.”

“That wasn’t just the heat of passion?”

She grinned and slid her hand down the front of my jeans. I

gasped when she found my flesh.

“Oh no. That was a promise.” She removed her hand and

licked her lips. Then she kissed me one last time and headed for

the door.

“Only next time,” she said, “you owe me a private dance.”

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FLESH and BOnE

E iS FOR EvERLaSting

Chandler Brogan awoke in the dark to the phone ringing.

Groaning, she stuck her hand out from beneath the

covers and searched for the receiver.

“Hello?” She barely sounded human.

“Hi.”

Chandler opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting

position.

“Hi.”

“Come to the door.”

Chandler switched on the lamp and rubbed her sleepy face

as she stood. She knew that voice, would know it anywhere.

“Okay.” Her heart rate kicked up considerably as she blinked

her eyes and crossed the room. The floor felt cool against her feet

and she kept the phone snug to her ear, her way of ensuring that

the connection was real and not a dream.

Reaching the front door, she flipped on the porch light and

looked through the peephole, a habit she found herself doing

despite knowing who exactly was at the door. It wasn’t just

because Michael, the ex-husband of her friend and colleague,

had tried to kill her. It was because she was awakening nights to

the sound of the doorbell, and she wasn’t sure if it was a dream

or reality. Whatever it was, dream or not, the front porch was

always bare by the time she reached the door.

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ROnica BLack

Pushing her concern to the back of her mind, she noted the

familiar figure beyond the door and turned the lock. Her insides

leaped beyond wakefulness as she pulled it open.

There, in the weak halo of light, stood Sarah Monroe in worn

jeans, boots, and a faded denim shirt. The deep dark of night

outlined her form, seemingly tempting her to take a step back so

it could swallow her whole. Fucking gorgeous didn’t even come

close to describing her at that moment.

“Hi,” Chandler whispered.

Sarah smiled. “Hi.”

It had been three long days since Chandler had seen her, and

the vision of her standing there at her front door with wet black

hair as dark as the night and cool blue eyes as pale as her shirt

was beyond anything dreamlike. She nearly pinched herself.

“You’re here,” she said, lost for words.

“Yes.” Sarah took a step forward and leaned on the doorjamb.

She smelled of Pert shampoo, and Chandler knew she’d just

finished her shift at the Department of Public Safety and had most

likely showered there in the locker room. Lately, she smelled of

Pert and Irish Spring when she finished a shift. Chandler couldn’t

yet smell the soap, but her nerve endings were jumping for the

opportunity.

“Tomorrow evening seemed way too far away,” Sarah said,

her eyes sweeping Chandler up and down, taking in her tight

gray tank and blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms. “I’ve missed

you.”Chandler reached out for her hand and gently pulled her

inside. “I’ve missed you too.” They’d both been busy with work

and Sarah had been working nights, helping out her understaffed

department.

The overtime showed itself in the shadows under her eyes.

Chandler wanted to smudge the darkness away with her thumb as

she watched her close and lock the door.

“Are you hungry?” They walked further into the house and

Chandler stopped at the kitchen. Her cat Mitote flicked his tail

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FLESH and BOnE

lazily from his position on the back of the couch. He extended his

chin eagerly as Sarah reached out to give him a scratch.

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

Sarah looked her up and down again, this time amorously.

“No.”Chandler felt her skin tingle, as if Sarah had already stroked

her. “You sure?”

Sarah held her eyes and stepped closer to her quickly,

pushing her against the wall in the entrance to the hallway. She

pressed her palm into her chest and stared at her lips for a long

moment before looking again into her eyes.

“I think you know what it is I want, what I need. And it is far

more demanding and insistent than the need for food or water.”

Sarah’s intense passion was something she was just starting

to get used to. And she was loving every minute of it.

“It is?” Chandler whispered, lost in the flaming yellow

circles that surrounded the pupils in Sarah’s eyes. Sarah always

left her speechless. And breathless.

“Yes,” Sarah said on a quick breath just before she took her

lips with her own.

Chandler moaned slightly and tangled her hand in her hair.

The chill of her damp hair contrasted sharply with her impossibly

soft and achingly warm lips. Her seeking tongue tasted of

cinnamon, just like the gum she sometimes chewed while doing

paperwork at the department.

Chandler relished knowing these small personal habits and

she pulled her closer, unable to ever get enough. From the first

moment she’d seen her nearly a year ago, walking up to her in

her khaki uniform and citing her for excessive speed, to pushing

her against the wall and awakening her innermost desires, none

of it was ever enough.

“Mmm, oh God,” Sarah said, pulling away. “I can’t believe

how much I’ve missed you.”

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ROnica BLack

“Me neither.” Chandler stroked her strong jaw. She saw

the want and need staining her cheeks. She felt the strength of

her tight, muscular body, saw it deep in her eyes, eclipsed by

something more hidden but ever present. Vulnerability.

“Come here.” Chandler led them to the bedroom and turned

to undress Sarah slowly, starting with the long-sleeved denim

work shirt.

“I love the way your eyes shine when you wear this,”

Chandler said, moving her fingers down button by button.

“I love the way you look at me when you tell me you love

me,” Sarah said.

Chandler smiled. “I love you.”

Sarah touched her cheek. “I know. I love you too.” She

pulled the shirt from her arms and watched as Chandler undid

her jeans and led her to the bed. When she sat, Chandler pulled

off her boots and socks and then helped her out of her jeans. She

was on her way to extinguish the lamp when Sarah stopped her

and stood.

“Wait.”

Chandler looked at her, standing still next to the bed.

“What is it?” Sarah looked so serious all of a sudden,

standing there in her white bra and white boy-style briefs. She

walked over to Chandler and took her hand.

“I want the light on,” she said.

Chandler thought it might be another request to help deal

with all the abuse she’d suffered at the evil hands of a family

friend. But when Sarah looked into her eyes and Chandler saw

the flash of desire’s flame, she knew it had nothing to do with

him.“I’m ready,” Sarah whispered. “For it.”

Chandler understood at once and her heart somersaulted in

her chest. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure. I’ve been thinking about it all

day. It’s about to drive me insane.”

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FLESH and BOnE

“Okay.”

Sarah had come a long way and now she was ready to climb

over that last obstacle, the one that promised the ultimate intimacy,

if she could just hurdle over the past and get some leverage.

“But I want the light on. And I want you close to me, as

close as you can get.”

They had discussed this many times before. And Chandler

knew exactly what it was she needed and how. Sarah wanted her

close, but she didn’t want her looking at her face. She needed to

feel this on her own and decide for herself how it felt and what

it meant.

“Okay.” Chandler kissed her softly. “Whatever you need.”

She placed small kisses on her neck and firm shoulders. “You

just tell me.”

Sarah smiled and her eyes were close to tears. “I want to see

you.” She peeled Chandler’s tank top over her head and then ran

her fingertips over her breasts and down to her abdomen where

her fresh red scar slashed over her skin. “I still hate the thought

of this,” Sarah said.

“We all have our scars,” Chandler said. “Some just show

better than others. This one.” She touched her stomach. “It’s only

skin deep.”

“I wish mine were,” Sarah said.

“They will get better. Give them time,” Chandler said,

meaning it.

Sarah slid her hands slowly downward and tugged Chandler’s

pajama bottoms and panties down her legs and off her feet. Then,

standing very still, she allowed Chandler to help her out of her

bra and her boy briefs and they both stood there nude, staring into

one another’s eyes.

“I’m ready,” Sarah said, reaching out to cup her breast,

rubbing her thumb over the nipple. “I’m so ready.”

Chandler sighed and she felt her eyes widen in desire.

Hurriedly, she shoved the pillows against the headboard and

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ROnica BLack

pulled back on the sheets. “Sit down with your back to the

pillows,” she instructed, rifling through her nightstand drawer.

Finding the black leather harness, she dug further and retrieved

two phalluses, one black, one white. Holding the black one, she

anchored it to the harness and then swung it around backward

and secured the buckles.

Sarah watched her closely as the phallus hung from

Chandler’s backside.

“Trust me,” Chandler said with a small grin. Then she handed

over a tube of lube and turned around until she felt the mattress

against the backs of her thighs. “Go ahead,” she said.

She heard Sarah move and she felt the phallus being tugged

on as she covered it in lube. She couldn’t see it, but the thought

and feel of it alone sent pings directly between her legs.

“Are you finished?” Suddenly she could barely seem to

control herself. She wanted to turn the harness around and mount

Sarah quickly, shoving the cock deep inside…

“Yes,” Sarah said.

Chandler put the tube on the nightstand and stilled her

trembling hand. “Do you like it? The cock? I bought it with you

in mind.” It was a smaller-sized phallus than the white one.

“Yes,” Sarah said again.

Chandler looked at her over her shoulder. She swallowed.

“Okay, now sit back and spread your legs.”

Sarah hesitated only a second and then did so. Chandler

crawled on and sat in front of her, with her back to Sarah, scooting

back to between her legs. When she got close she instructed Sarah

to grab hold of the cock.

“Now, as I move back, guide it into yourself, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Take your time. Don’t force it.”

Chandler heard her breathing, clipped and ragged. “Oh.

Kay.”Chandler backed up some more and placed her hands on

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FLESH and BOnE

Sarah’s thighs. She felt her hard muscles contract and watched as

her heels dug into the bed.

“Take your time, baby. We have all the time in the world.”

She stroked her thighs, running her fingers down to her knees

and back up again.

“Mo—re,” Sarah said and Chandler pushed back a bit more.

She could feel her hot breath on her shoulder, feel her cool

breasts touching her back. Then she heard another quick inhale

and exhale and Sarah grabbed her, hugging her arms around

Chandler’s chest and yanking her back.

“Sa—rah,” Chandler rasped, surprised. But Sarah let out a

long groan, low and deep and then Chandler felt her hot mouth

bite into her neck.

“Sa—rah,” she said again, caught up quickly in her passion

as she hugged Chandler tight and cinched her legs around her.

“Ah, ah, Chandler,” Sarah said, her calves flexing and her

toes curling. She bit Chandler again and then hurriedly rubbed

her hands over her breasts to capture her nipples.

“Are you okay?” The question was dumb, Chandler knew,

but she was struggling to catch up and she wanted to make sure.

“Yes, ah God, yes.” Sarah moved against her, trying to fuck

the cock. “What, what now?” Sarah asked. She had told Chandler

exactly what she wanted, and Chandler had planned out this

position on her own, specifically for this occasion. Sarah was

climbing the obstacle quickly, seeking the next step.

“Does it hurt?” Despite Sarah’s excitement, Chandler wanted

to be careful.

“A little. But it—it feels good more than it hurts.”

“Okay,” Chandler said. She leaned back against her, loving

how her breasts and abdomen had heated and now felt warm

against her skin. Chandler opened her legs, placing them over

Sarah’s. Then she grabbed the white phallus and said, “I’m going

to put this in me now.”

“Yes,” Sarah encouraged. “Please do.”

• 183 •

ROnica BLack

Chandler pushed it up and in and she closed her eyes briefly

at the feel of it. Then she began fucking herself softly. “Touch

me now,” she said, guiding Sarah’s hand. “Touch me while we

fuck.”Sarah groaned as her fingers found Chandler’s wet, slick

flesh. She encased her clit and stroked her up and down and then

all around.

“God, yes,” Chandler said, the pleasure mounting quickly.

Sarah’s fingers played her expertly, long and nimble, holding her

clit prisoner, moving it whichever way she demanded.

“You’re fucking me,” Sarah whispered in her. “Oh God,

you’re fucking me.” They moved into a rhythm, Chandler pushing

backward and Sarah thrusting her hips forward.

“Yes, I am. I’m fucking you, baby. And I’m fucking myself

too. Look.” Chandler pointed at the standing mirror positioned in

the corner of the room.

“Uh,” Sarah moaned. “I see us. I see you.” She quickened her

hand on Chandler’s clit and pinched her nipple harder. Chandler

cried out and arched back into her.

“Oh, Sarah. Jesus Christ, yes.”

In a frenzy, Sarah stopped, lifting her hand to lick her fingers.

She groaned and told Chandler how good she tasted and then put

the fingers to her mouth so she could see for herself. With both

cocks still fucking, Chandler stuck out her tongue and then took

Sarah’s two fingers into her mouth and sucked.

“Fuck, Chan. Ah fuck.”

Chandler bobbed her head back and forth, sucking her hard.

Sarah bucked into her harder, legs squeezing in on Chandler

while Chandler’s own heels dug deep into the mattress. Sarah’s

leg muscles strained along with her voice and Chandler released

her fingers, knowing she was close.

They found her flesh at once and resumed their magical

travels, framing her reddened clit and then rubbing all around

it in quick circular motions. The sensation sent Chandler

catapulting toward climax and she shoved her cock in further and

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FLESH and BOnE

faster, completely caught up in the large fire she and Sarah were

creating.

“Yes, Sarah. Please, baby, yes, come with me.”

Sarah’s groans turned to grunts and her eyes bored into the

mirror, staring into Chandler’s soul.

“Chan—Chan.” Her muscles tightened, her toes curled so

tight they whitened from lack of blood flow. Her hand moved

from Chandler’s breast to cinch her tighter across the chest.

“Chan I—it—Chan.”

“It’s okay, Sarah. Let it go. Let it feel good.”

“It does—it feels—I feel full.”

“I’m feeling the same thing. The very same thing.”

“Oh God. Chan—Chan—you feel it?”

Chan quickened her own fucking. “Yes, I do. Can you see

me?”“Ye—yes.”

“Do you see my cock? See it fucking me?”

“Yes. Ah yes.”

“I’m pretending it’s you. Wishing it was you inside me.”

“Ah, Chan—oh God.”

“That’s it, baby. I’m coming too. Come with me.”

“Chan—”

Chandler saw her eyes clench shut in the mirror. She felt her

jerk and tense. And then she watched her come.

The noise was unlike anything Chandler had ever heard

before. It was deep and dark and animal, primal right down to

the marrow in her bones. It came up from Sarah for a long, long

while, her body taut, holding to Chandler desperately, clutching

her, ensuring that the pleasure would not escape.

The sound of it alone sent Chandler spinning into her own

orgasm, her flesh screaming for Sarah’s fingers, bearing down on

the white cock in her hand. She thrust her head back and called

out riding on the tail end of Sarah’s and then laughing in ecstasy

as Sarah bit down into the flesh of her shoulder once again.

“Oh, Sarah. Oh God, Sarah.” She just couldn’t stop saying

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ROnica BLack

her name. She just couldn’t stop coming. Knowing that Sarah

had come, had let love in and let the pain go. Knowing that she’d

trusted her enough to help her…the love alone…all of it hit her

and forced every last nerve ending wide open. Her hand flew to

Sarah’s and she pressed against it, rubbing madly at her own flesh.

“Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.” She rubbed until the fireworks turned to

sparks and her body jerked as each one extinguished for good.

“Fuck, yeah,” she said, her body going slack against Sarah’s.

The white cock eased out of her, her muscles insisting.

“Mmm.” Sarah hugged her tight and then released, her legs

resting along the outside of Chandler’s.

“I don’t know about you, but, Jesus Christ, that was good.”

Sarah nibbled on her ear. “You have no idea, Dr. Brogan.”

Chandler kissed her hands and then pulled away slowly.

Sarah sighed as the cock eased out of her. Facing her, Chandler

sat on her knees and held her face. She searched her eyes, making

sure she was okay.

“It was good?”

Sarah nodded and kissed her palm. “Oh, yeah.”

Instantly, as quick as an orgasm comes and goes, Chandler

wanted more. She envisioned herself atop her, thrusting into her

beneath the covers, Sarah’s hands clawing at her back and her

legs wrapped around her waist.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, knowing she was thinking

something.

“What’s going on in there?”

Chandler grinned and her thumbs brushed at the diminishing

shadows underneath her eyes.

“I want to take you again. Make love to you properly. Kiss

your lips while you cry out in pleasure.”

Sarah blinked slowly. Her lips started to move but stopped.

“Soon, okay?”

Chandler kissed her, not ever wanting her to feel hesitant

when it came to sharing her feelings.

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FLESH and BOnE

“Okay.” Moving to the side of the bed, Chandler stood and

unbuckled the harness. She let it fall to her feet.

Just as she was about to extinguish the light, she saw a tear

slip down Sarah’s face.

“Hey,” Chandler said, wiping it away gently. “We have all

the time in the world.”

“I know,” Sarah said. “It’s knowing that…it makes me feel

so good. So…okay with everything. I never thought I would be

here at this moment. I never thought I could trust someone or even

trust myself. It’s—all of it—it’s incredible. And overwhelming.”

Chandler sat next to her and held her hand. “You are truly

amazing, do you know that? Your courage and your strength.

Even your fear. I’m amazed by you, Sarah Monroe. And intrigued

and in awe…and in love.”

Sarah smiled.

“I love you too.”

They kissed, slowly and softly and then Sarah spoke again.

“Turn off that light, Dr. Brogan. Eternity starts now.”

• 187 •

About the Author

Ronica Black spends her free time writing works that move her,

with the hope that they will move others as well. She is a firm

believer that “what does not kill you makes you stronger.” Each

step she takes in life is a journey meant to be experienced, whether

it be a smooth step paved with green grass, or a rocky one marred

with boulders. She keeps stepping, keeps writing, and keeps

believing that women are far stronger than they believe. She’s

an award-winning author with four books currently published

by Bold Strokes Books: In Too Deep, Deeper, Wild Abandon,

and Hearts Aflame. She has short stories published in the Bold

Strokes Books Erotic Interludes anthologies Stolen Moments,

Lessons in Love, and Road Games. She was also published in

Ultimate Lesbian Erotica 2005. Look for her upcoming book

The Seeker to be released in December 2009, and her book

Chasing Love, which will be released in 2010, both from Bold

Strokes Books.

Document Outline

- Introduction

- F Is For Fantasy

- L Is For Love

- E Is For Erotic

- S Is For Sensual

- H Is For Higher

- A Is For Animal

- N Is For Never

- D Is For Daring

- B Is For Beautiful

- O Is For Orgasm

- N Is For Naughty

- E is For Everlasting

- About the Author

Table of Contents

Introduction

F Is For Fantasy

L Is For Love

E Is For Erotic

S Is For Sensual

H Is For Higher

A Is For Animal

N Is For Never

D Is For Daring

B Is For Beautiful

O Is For Orgasm

N Is For Naughty

E is For Everlasting

About the Author