Stop Talking

You think you’re so damn good at this game, don’t you? Saying all the right things, with just the right look and in just the right hushed, low tone… Baby, I’ve been around the world a few times; all those sexy, sensual lines of yours — I’ve used them already. And that one, seductive look — you know the one, with your head hanging low cocked to the side, your eyes deep and mysterious and smiling… I stopped using that one in ‘98. My neck was getting a kink in it. So go over there, back to your own little table, and find someone else to seduce. Someone who isn’t tired, and done, and won’t know your every move before you even make it.

Of course, I didn’t actually say any of this to her. I just sat there, a little amused, and let her make those vapid comments about my beauty and my eyes. It wasn’t that I was partially curious to see where this would lead — I was just too bored and exhausted to stop it before it got there. It had been a long time since I’d given a damn. A very long time…

When she leaned forward and whispered her fantasy, of coming to my door and finding it open, walking through the house and slipping into bed beside me while I was still sleeping, waking me up with her hands her tongue her lips her teeth her hunger… Well, I should have been thrilled. I should have jumped a little and breathed a bit faster and harder every time she hoarsely spoke about all the places she wanted to lick and suck. And I suppose I played my part in the act rather well; I demurely blushed at all the right times and sighed at all the others. But in the back of my mind, I was wondering if I still had time to get home and watch “Grey’s Anatomy”. Much preferable than sitting there and going cold at the thought of her making love to mine.

It was at about this time that I noticed Rhiannon walking towards us, her jacket a bit askew on one shoulder, her thumb hooked in the loop of her jeans. We were, most of us, such regulars at this cafe that you could have used us as more furniture during busy days. I knew her on sight and sound — I would have given anything, to also know her on taste. She wasn’t the most beautiful, the sexiest, the most intriguing woman I’d ever seen. This isn’t the bit where I tell you how I lusted after her supple, tan skin, or that the way her flashing blue eyes caught my stare made a ripple of heat tear through me. She didn’t have tan skin, she looked about as white as a china doll. And her eyes were not flashing blue — an ordinary hazel, matching well with her ordinary dark brown hair. I didn’t need anything extraordinary about her looks to grab me and refuse to let go. Her walk did that just fine; so did the way she stood, the way she spoke, the way she listened. One night, we’d stayed outside the cafe long after it closed, rain belting down and flooding the parking lot, arguing over operas and whether or not God existed. We actually agreed on more points than we disagreed over, but I really don’t think that was the point. There was an electric, sizzling magnet hanging right over our heads whenever we were around each other. We’d have argued over whether or not the sky was blue, just because arguing made that magnet sizzle hotter. Besides, if we’d agreed with each other openly, the conversation would have been over and we’d have had no excuse not to say goodnight. Much better to fight, keep it going, in the pouring freezing rain shivering our asses off….

Like most intelligent, witty, charming, sexy women who seem marginally emotionally stable, Rhi had a girlfriend. Some hideously beautiful blonde, who came complete with that supple, tan skin and flashing blue eyes. I, am no match for such a woman. I’m also of the porcelain-skinned variety, and though my eyes are a very unsettling shade of green, they don’t flash. Least, not to my knowledge; though I’ve tried to forego actually taking them out and examining them. I have ordinary dark brown hair, just like Rhiannon’s, and though I might pass as sexy on some days, most days I simply shoot for “breathing”. I can’t compete with a Gorgeous Girlfriend; not that I’d ever try…

Rhiannon stopped at our table and looked down at the two of us, her eyebrow slowly rising over her left eye. “Don’t tell me you’re actually giving it a go, Kat.”

“Pardon?”

“With Jenna,” she smiled, nodding in my direction. “You won’t win this women by talking to her all night long.”

“Oh, then how will I?” Kat asked, obviously annoyed. I, however, was intrigued, and waited to hear her answer while Kat shoved back from the table and sighed.

“Stop talking,” she said to Kat, but her eyes were boring into mine and wouldn’t let them go. Her voice was so low, lace on a whisper, and I felt that electric heat sizzle from her lips and eyes right over every inch of my skin.

Yes, this woman made me give a damn… I wasn’t tired in the slightest, when she looked at me like that… With a jolt, I pulled my eyes away and the fiery connection broke between us.

“I thought you had a girlfriend, Rhiannon,” Kat reminded her in a voice that was part bitterness and part whine.

“I said stop talking, Kat,” she growled. I looked back up and dammit those eyes had me again. Oh God… heat, everywhere…

“I don’t,” she said to me, softer now, and she reached out and opened her hand before my face. To slip mine into… to follow her out the door and into a car and wind up who the hell gave a damn where, so long as it had a bed and very, very thick walls.

I reached out and let my smaller palm slip over hers, her fingers closing around me tightly and pulling me to my feet. I didn’t hear a word or a voice or a note of music as we left the cafe, I wasn’t aware of anything in the world except for Rhiannon’s gliding walk in front of me and the nape of her neck, her soft, kissable, biteable skin… Oh Jesus I want you to throw me down right here… Bugger the car and bugger your flat, just throw me hard against a wall and…

When we had turned the corner, she pushed me into the alley between the cafe and the drugstore, following me and slipping an arm around my waist to catch me as I tripped and lost my balance. Wedging me between her warm body and the stucco wall behind me and pinning my arms by the wrists over my head, she brought her lips so close to mine that I could have taken her breath as my own.

“…Want you…” She hissed.

“Take me.”

“Not here… You want that too much,” a slow, evil and lovable smile parted her mouth, and she released my wrists and walked out of the alley. I trotted after her, feeling like a puppy dog, not caring a damn bit. When we reached her car, she opened the door for me and I slid inside, fumbling with the belt in my shaking hands. She got in beside me and started the engine as Billie Holiday came in silver tones out of her speakers.

“Thought you said you weren’t a fan of hers — or was that just another bit of bull, the other night?” I tried to tease her, but my voice was too breathy and stilted.

“Stop talking,” she smiled again, and then snuck a quick look at me as she turned the corner. “Talking, later. Fucking, now.”

A sigh I didn’t mean to allow life, came easily out of my mouth and I waited in agony for the trip to be over.

When she pulled into her driveway, she hardly had the engine off before she was out of the car and opening my door. I followed her up the steps and waited as she turned the key in the lock — a fucking eternity. And then she was pulling me inside, the door closing behind us as her mouth wrapped around my lips and devoured them. Her tongue, soft, hot, was melting with mine, and the pleasure of just the wet heat of her kiss was enough to make my sex start begging all on its own for her attention. She had me pushed against yet another wall, her thigh wedged between my legs as we kissed, and I couldn’t keep my hips from grinding, from pressing down against her jean-clad leg to give me little ripples of pleasure and satisfaction. She didn’t ask if I liked the shirt I was wearing, she simply tore it off of me, each button popping off and revealing more of my flesh which she tasted with the trail of her tongue. When she engulfed my nipple in her mouth, biting down and sucking roughly, I nearly came, my hands grabbing onto the back of her head lest she do something ridiculous like stop. I didn’t ask her for more, she simply gave it to me, tearing my skirt and panties off of me as she tasted her way lower, her tongue drawing circles on my belly just above the trimmed hair of my mound. I stepped out of my clothes and kicked off my sandals as she picked me up — my God, the woman fucking picked me up — and carried me down the hall and into the bedroom. I was so heated and high and frenzied at this point, that my first instinct was to say something funny, some comment about her carrying me, just to bring me a little bit back down from the peak she had me at. Closer, lower, safer from the intensity of these feelings. But I held my tongue. She, however, let hers have full reign… She bit my neck just above my shoulder when she had me on the bed, nudging my legs apart with her knees and pinning my arms once again with her one hand. Her other served as a sort of heralder, traveling and softening the places that her tongue soon followed to introduce itself to. She kneaded my breast and then licked its soft underside, she pulled my nipple to erection and then sucked it into her hot mouth. She trailed her hand down the valley between my breasts and over my tummy, and then slowly, oh God slowly, she followed the path with her mouth. But that first damn sensation of her probing wet fire chocolate melted hungry tongue, licking my pussy in slow long strokes, tasting how fucking wet she had made me, kissing my shaved lips and sucking them into her mouth before licking my entrance and swirling her way towards my aching need….

I would have screamed her name, but as of yet we neither of us had said a single word after entering the house, and there was something that told me not to break that rule yet… Instead I lunged forward, grinding my sex against her face, my back arching off the bed as I bit back a scream. The woman didn’t wait for me to calm down, she thrust two fingers inside of me, oh God bent upwards just right, as she let her teeth and sucking mouth have their way with everything else wet and hungry about me. Dammit no, I thought, no I don’t want to cum so soon, I don’t want all this heated wanting and longing to just be…

She pulled out of me and took her mouth away, and suddenly I changed my tune as my hips writhed in furious desperation before her. A low growl that served as a laugh passed from her, and I looked up pleadingly. But as she slowly slipped her jacket off, her tank top over her head revealing those braless, full breasts… I was happy again. I sat up and took one into my mouth and my hand, feeling and tasting the weight and soft skin, playing with her hardened nipples. Slowly she moved away and removed her boots and jeans before coming back to bed. We went on all night like that, fast and wild, slow and teasing…. I lost count how many times she had me so damn fucking close to cumming, only to pull away and leave me wild and unsatisfied.

At four in the morning, I was in tears; they slipped down my face coming to rest in the pillow beneath my head and she crawled up my body, sucking my tongue into her mouth and letting me taste my sex from her lips before finally, finally speaking.

“Ask me, pet.”

“Please…! Jesus, lover, please!!! I need to…”

“I know,” she hushed me, kissing me again. “I know, but you needed all of this, too…” And she slipped down again, as my hands wove into her hair and her mouth wove into my pussy and her fingers assaulted me as my clit was sucked inside of hot velvet heat and oh-fucking-God-I’m-cumming-baby-oh-God-colors-everywhere-don’t-stop!!!! Don’t fucking stop!! Don’t ever stop, oh Jesus you feel so good inside of me, against me, licking me, fucking me, God!!!!!!! Wave after wave crashed over and through me and I drowned in every single one of them, before finally she was holding me and kissing my mouth.

I pushed her over and straddled her hips, my long hair tickling her skin as I kissed my way down her body, but her hand shot out and took hold of my face, lifting it to meet her eyes.

“You don’t…have to, love.”

Jesus… What is it with some damn butches thinking that they’re the only ones who desperately and ferociously love to fuck women?

I grinned at her mischievously. “Stop talking.” And with a laugh, she let go of my chin.

There’s a reason I don’t often sleep over at women’s homes; and it has less to do with my cynicism regarding love and sex, and more to do with the fact that I am terrified of falling asleep in someone else’s presence. It’s a lack of control, you see, being asleep. What if I have a nightmare, which I do frequently? What if I wake up, screaming, covered in a sheen of sweat, next to this woman whom I really don’t know from Adam…. or Eve. What will she think of me? What will she do?

What if I have a sex dream and I call out someone’s name that’s not her? Now there’s a nightmare, in and of itself.

What if I wake up at 2 am with a desperate craving for cookies? What if I have to pee really badly, and her legs and arms are draped across me? How do I move without waking her up? What do I say if I have to wake her up? “Sorry, I gotta piss”, and then there’s the master bathroom right across from the bed, and it’s 2 am and deathly still and here’s this sexy sleepy woman now wide awake and hearing the sound of midnight peeing.

I choose to bypass all of those conundrums, and the few times I have made love/fucked/had sex with a woman in the past few years, I always go home afterwards. I make my gentle and tender exit, I murmur sweet words about how lovely it was and how amazing she is and then I get in my car, roll the windows down and blare rock and roll music all the way home while chain-smoking Marlboro Reds and thanking God I have my own place to go back to.

But there was a problem, this time. The problem was, Rhiannon had turned me, twisted me, thrust inside of me, licked me, sucked me, and fucked me into the wee hours of the morning, and then I’d turned the tables and given her the ride of her life. So when we finally, exhausted and bleary-eyed, fell sideways across the tangled heap of sheets, it was well past ten in the morning. “Spending the night” was now a non-issue, and I was too exhausted to go home. Languidly, she moved across the bed and lay down next to me, draping one strong but gentle arm across my breasts. And that was the last I remembered, until much later that afternoon. I woke up to the smell and sound of coffee brewing, and for a moment I panicked over not knowing where I was. When I remembered, the panic didn’t do much in the way of lessening. I was still nude, and couldn’t find my clothes — my God, we’d torn that room apart. In the end, I settled on a dress shirt of hers I found in the closet and a pair of Eeyore slippers from under the bed; not quite the fashion statement I wanted to make, especially when I passed the hall mirror and saw the disheveled look of my hair.

She was humming to herself in the kitchen, naked and bathed in the glow of late-afternoon light from the window, and I simply stood in the doorway and watched her for a moment. I didn’t know what to say. Last night, it had been so intense, that utter lack of speech and verbal communication between us. But in the light of the day, it seemed an impassable breach. I was uncomfortable, nervous; and completely without a way to overcome it. What was I doing? What did this mean? Oh God…. Leave it to a lesbian to ruin a perfectly wonderful fuck by immediately asking for a more meaningful definition.

“Glad to see you’re awake….Thought I was going to have to charge rent there, for a little while.” She looked over her shoulder and winked at me.

“Didn’t think you knew I was here.”

“I heard the soft Eeyore-padded footsteps,” she said, with a smile in her voice.

“Yeah, sorry about that…I can’t find my clothes.”

“I hid them.”

“Say again?”

She laughed and turned around, handing me a cup of coffee with Pumpkin spice creamer swirling around in the darkness. “I hid them. I know you, Jenna. You’re little ‘run out the door as fast as I can’ routine. And hiding your clothes was much simpler, and required far less energy, than barricading the door with furniture.”

I sipped from the mug of coffee and tried to think of a response, but I had none. I was completely out of my element. In someone else’s shirt with cartoon slippers and no underwear, standing in her kitchen and playing at “The Morning After”…. playing at something I never play at, anymore. And this was more dangerous, this little scenario, because of the main character in it.

You don’t find women like Rhiannon. And they rarely find you, I’m afraid. They are the women you read about in little novels hidden in the back of bookstores, women you swoon over and fantasize about, women you grow up desperately wanting to step out of your imaginations and into your life. They are the strong and tough and mysterious, and the soft and gentle and open, the kind, the rough, the good, the loving, the forceful, the needing, the women of our dreams. And I, I was standing naked in her kitchen. And I’d never felt so vulnerable or terrified in my life.

“This is the part,” she said slowly, “where one of us is supposed to say something very charming and very witty.”

“Mm…”

“But then, we’ve established a pattern, haven’t we?”

“Have we?”

“Of not talking. Of communicating without words.” She held me with her eyes, and a chill passed over my body. “Perhaps, now it’s time to change the rules a little?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, it’s very simple. Only words, only talk, we aren’t allowed to touch or kiss or caress. I want to get it out, right now, right here, how I feel about you and how I know you feel about me. What I want from you, and what you want from me. I want to know your secrets, your desires, your wants and needs. But only words, baby girl. Let’s see how hot I can get you without touching an inch of your body.”

I’ve always been a bit slow on the uptake. “You want to spend the rest of the evening talking dirty to each other?”

She chuckled — my God, she could even make a chuckle sound sexy — and nodded towards the living room, and I followed her with my coffee. “Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“That’s the idea, love.” She sat down at one end of the couch, and I took the other, trying not to stare at the fullness of her breasts or the soft trimmed hair over her mound. Trying to keep my eyes to myself wasn’t much easier than trying to keep my hands to myself would turn out to be. “You know my girlfriend and I broke up.”

“Last night was the first I heard of it.”

“It was a couple of months ago, actually. I didn’t say anything, because…I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know how to go after you, Jenna. How to go after what I wanted. And you are what I want. I need to make that clear to you.”

“You’re a looney.”

She smiled and let her eyes roam over my face, caress my neck, and lower, till they hovered over the white cotton buttoned over my chest. “Take off that shirt,” she said hoarsely. “I’ll find it much easier to have this conversation, if I’m properly inspired.”

“One question, before I do.”

“Mm?”

“Is this conversation about how you want to date me, or how you want to fuck me?”

“Oh, we’re already dating, baby. Once I got you in my house, I knew I’d do anything to keep you in my life. Are you all right with that?”

In answer, I began unbuttoning the shirt, careful to leave the cloth over my breasts, only showing the flesh between and the soft skin of my stomach. “So, if this is about how you want to fuck me, we’ve already done that.”

“And we’ll do it a thousand more times before the month is up,” she smiled mischievously. “I said take the shirt off, not unbutton it and leave it strategically placed.”

I slipped it from my shoulders and tossed it onto the ground, leaning back against the arm of the couch and taking another sip of my coffee.

“And, by the way, this talk is about how you want me to fuck you, not how I want to fuck you.” Hunger — that was the way she stared at me. Her eyes devouring my breasts, as if her mouth hadn’t spent hours doing the same thing just a few hours before. “I want to know what you want — your heated longings. And I want you to know mine.” Her breath came a little faster as I arched my back.

“You first,” I said, spreading my legs just a little further. I could feel the heat rising in my skin, and I wanted her to see me as I got wetter and hotter from her words.

“All right…” a slow smile spread across that wicked mouth, as the tip of her soft tongue licked over her lips. “Last night, you buried yourself between my thighs — but only for a moment… only long enough to moan at how I tasted, and then you crawled back up my body, took your time, moved so seductively… And I loved that. I loved the look on your face – that hot, sultry look… Temptress, that’s what you are. And I want to be tempted, Jenna. I want you to tempt me. I want you to hover over me, your breast so close, your nipple brushing over my lips… I want you to pull back, just as I start to suck it into my mouth. I want you to move and moan like the seductress that I know you are. I want you to take your hands and run them over your body, cup your breasts, stroke the wetness of your pussy and then bring me your fingertip to lick and suck. I want you to be slow — but not gentle. That tongue of yours…that hot, molten lava tongue… I want you to use it slowly, lick me slowly. I want you to push inside of me slowly. Not lightly, not gently… Fuck me hard baby, and deep… but slow. Make me feel every lick and every thrust.”

I moved a little further down on the sofa, and let my legs fall open wider. Her eyes were glued to my sex, my shaved lips glistening from the effect of her speech and her eyes.

“I want you to submit to me, Jenna.” Her voice was rasping, now. “Make me hot, make me yours, make me desperate, and then make me cum… But then, submit to me. Give me your body and let me take it any way I please.”

“I need to take you just as badly as you need to take me,” I growled. “I need the taste of you, Rhiannon. The feel of your wet, hot sex on my face and clenching around my fingers, that velvet vise of a cunt spasming around me as I fuck you. I can’t and won’t submit, if you don’t give me that.”

“Give it to you? I will give it to you. But you need to know, never to take it. Taking, is what I will do.”

“Will you, now? You’ll take me? Whenever and wherever you want?”

She nodded. “It’s what you want. Isn’t it. You want a woman who will throw you down as often as she pleases. A woman to own you, love you, take you, and yet understand that fiery Irish blood of yours.”

I didn’t answer. I only looked at her, and felt an ass for knowing she was right.

“You want to taste and touch and fuck me to your heart’s content… and you’ll have that. Sweet insatiable baby, you’ll have it. But what I want, and what you want, when it comes to your body, is far more ferocious and starving than that. You want me to throw your legs over your head as I suck your sex into my mouth; you want me to ravage your flesh and fuck you till you scream. You want to be in public, and have me order you to the bathroom, where I’ll shove you up against a wall and thrust my hand up your skirt. You want me to tease you into oblivion and then make you cum in one long, rolling wave of orgasms. You want to be Mine. Torn apart and kissed back together.”

She leaned forward and took the mug of coffee from my trembling hands and set it down on the coffee table. “Do you know who truly has the power in a relationship like that?” She brought her piercing eyes back to mine. “Are you aware that I am dying to give you what you want, to take you and overpower you – because I am dying to be what you want?”

“I am.”

I waited for her to touch me, to kiss me, but she was determined to stick to the rules she’d come up with. This was going to kill me… Her words alone, they were seductive enough. But the heat of her naked skin, the flush in her face, the hunger in her eyes as her sight devoured me… My God, why didn’t she just… well, just stop talking.

But she wasn’t done with our little game, yet. It was just beginning.

The wall heater in the hallway hummed to life, and Rhiannon pulled away from me on the sofa. “Delicious woman,” she smiled, but her eyes were moving slowly down my skin.

“Rhiannon, please –”

But she stood from the couch before I could finish, and motioned for me to follow her. I stood in the center of the room, trying to peer at her in the twilight as she moved around and came to stand behind me. I could feel the tips of her nipples brush lightly against the flesh of my back, and a chill passed over me. The hot, humid breath passed from her lips over the back of my neck as she brushed my hair over my left shoulder.

“So beautiful,” she whispered. “So fucking inviting, Jenna…that’s what your body is... inviting.” She leaned closer until her lips were close to my ear, all the better for her whispers to drive me wild. “So, we know what we want, don’t we? I want you to tempt me, you want me to take you… Quite a nice little match we make, don’t you think?” It wasn’t her words, it was the hot spidery breath of them against my neck in the sensitive darkness of my ear that was causing my body to tremble so violently. “But I think we want a bit more than that, don’t we? Whether or not you’re ready to admit it… I can give it to you, love. I can give you… everything.” She bit me then, without a warning, her breath giving way to tongue and teeth as she sank into the flesh of my neck. I moaned and fell back against her body, but she only steadied me before moving just enough to where I could no longer feel her. For a long, eternal moment, she didn’t speak; and when she did, I could feel the change in the room.

“I have something I want to show you,” she said in a whisper, and she softly reached forward and took my hand, leading me out of the room. We wound our way down the hall into the dining room, where I found myself looking up directly into “Regrette”.

I’d painted it four years ago, just after moving to the city. Seeing it in Rhiannon’s dining room after all this time — such a mundane place for such a poignant thing, such a good home for such a sorrowful piece — took me aback, and for a moment I could do nothing but stand there. I’d always wondered who’d purchased it; for no reason other than that it had taken such a massive piece from me to create it.

“That’s you, yes? The woman with her back turned towards the painter. And the one in front of you, turned away?”

“My partner,” I said quietly.

Rhiannon nodded. “I fell in love with this, the first time I saw it. Anonymous, the gallery owner said; bastard wouldn’t give me a clue as to who’d painted it. And then, later, when I met you at the cafe… I knew.”

“How?”

“I recognized you from the painting,” Rhiannon smiled. “The first day I met you, you were wearing this same gold shawl. And the length and waves of your hair… You can’t see your face in the painting, but I knew.”

“It could have been someone who painted it of me.”

She grinned at me in the twilight. “You also had smudges of paint on your fingertips. I did the math.” She moved around until she was facing me, standing naked between my unease and the painting across the room. “I’ve seen more of your work…always ‘Anonymous’, always beautiful, always sad. I always wanted to know, why it was so sad… But I think I do know, now. You don’t believe in beauty anymore, do you Jenna?”

It had been too long, now — too much of us being heavy and serious and meaningful. My chest simply could not take the burden. So without skipping a beat I met her eyes and said dryly, “I do, so. You can buy it over the counter at Macy’s, I think.”

“I love you.”

Far too much. I jerked back and turned away before quickly exiting the room. “I liked you much better when you were simply seducing me,” I called out over my shoulder, my voice a tad too high-pitched and shaky.

“I know you.” She was following me, not in a rush or a race or a frenzy, but…solidly, assurance and strength sounding out in every footfall. “I know your hungers and your desires, I know your pains and your secrets. Some because you’ve shared them with me, some because I’m rather good at puzzles. And I am seducing you; I’ll spend the rest of my life seducing you, if you’ll let me. But you also need to know, this isn’t an idle fancy for me.”

“Everything is an idle fancy,” I said, stopping in the hallway as I suddenly realized I had nowhere to go in my naked state. My voice had became harsh, edged. “Everything, Rhiannon. The only things that have depth of meaning, are the lies we tell ourselves.”

She, however, did not stop — she kept walking, so confident it was pissing me off, until she was a breath away from me. Her breasts were brushing against mine, I could feel the heat from her lips and wild stare tickling the hairs of my skin. “That, itself, would be a lie.”

“Only to a romantic idealist like yourself. Where are my clothes?”

“No.”

“No? No, you won’t tell me where my clothes are? As you wish. I’ll drive home in yours.” I wheeled away from her and headed back towards the bedroom.

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Oh, go to hell.”

But I was afraid. I was terrified. And I hated, loathed, was enraged by the very fact that she knew it. She knew my wants, yes, my fears, yes, she knew enough to lead me into a room and show me the little piece of my soul already mounted on her wall. She knew what to say, how to say it, what to do… And she carried it all off as if it wasn’t her intent to play her cards so perfectly. Leave me be, I thought as I angrily rifled through her dresser for a pair of slacks. All this is, is yet another slice of bullshit dressed a little prettier.

Women, are not supposed to affect me like this any longer. Not even Rhiannon. Not even a woman like that.

“I’m trying to put your fears to rest, Jenna.” She was leaning against the doorframe, her nudity seemingly not bothering her in the slightest, whereas mine was only increasing my panic. “Why won’t you let me? I love you. I don’t just want you, I don’t want to simply own you — I love you. You may belong to me, but I belong with you.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I hissed incredulously.

“Yes you do.”

My jaw dropped as I stared at her. “You smug… arrogant… self-assured…”

“You left out ‘absolutely correct.’”

I didn’t think it was possible for my mouth to gape any wider. But there it was.

“You’ve always been mine. We both simply had to wait for the right time to admit it. I’m not letting you go, woman. Not now, now that I have those breasts all to myself and that delicious, wet sex to fall within whenever I please… Not now, when I finally have you to take care of.”

I had absolutely no idea how to respond. Half of me wanted to hit her; and half of me wanted to lay back on the bed and pull her between my legs.

“Stop fighting me. I’m not here to hurt you. I won’t give you anything to regret,” she whispered. I watched her as she crept across the room towards me, completely unsure as to whether I wanted her to come closer, or wanted to fling her across the room for daring to crawl behind my barriers.

A night of frenzied fucking was one thing. But the game of emotional seduction was another thing entirely.

I backed away from her and eased around the corner of the bed. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing—”

“No game.”

“Bullshit.”

She said nothing, her eyes locked in iron upon mine as she kept walking towards me. And I was running out of room in which to retreat.

“If I have to overpower you and tie you to this bed, force you to hear me and trust me, I will.”

“Arrogant ass — you can’t force trust!”

“I can force you to stay open enough, naked enough to allow its beginnings to form.”

“Forcing that, would abolish trust entirely.”

“With other people, maybe. With you, it would be the only way to get through to you.”

Her hands seized me, one cupping the back of my neck and the other roughly encircling my waist as she crushed me against her body. Those lips of hers, those satin velvet lips, moved until they were just brushing against my own. Her speech formed transparent clouds of heat between our mouths. “You know what we have between us. You’ve always known and so have I. This isn’t some stupid, hormone-riddled passion, for Christ’s sake!”

“I know how you are with women, Rhiannon — all of them toys to you. Even that last one — did you tire of her? Did you get bored once you knew all her curves and her thoughts and her taste was no longer new to you? Decide to move on to me then, did you?” I was pulling hard against her arms, struggling violently to turn my head away, but she was stronger… much stronger. And this, in itself, boiled my anger hotter.

“Go on, pet, pretend that you haven’t been the exact same way. Pretend that you haven’t kept to your one-night lovers just to avoid the resignation of tying down to one. That’s it — get that self-righteous glint in your eyes. You can’t fool me, Jenna. I know you. Just like you know me. And deep inside of that knowledge, is the reason for it.”

I’m fairly sure that right then, those green eyes of mine actually were flashing.

“You, are not my toy. You, are the reason I was created.”

“Liar—” Satin velvet became crushed velvet as she laid claim to my mouth with her own. I didn’t want to moan when her tongue wove fluid heat around mine. I didn’t want to shiver in her arms when her one soft hand traveled down to cup my ass and the other kept its hold on my neck, tilting me and guiding me to better ravage my mouth. Oh God I didn’t want to do any of it. Difficult, to tell myself that at the moment though, and come across as convincing. But still I felt the ice building in my veins — slowly, yes, and struggling against the fire building there beside it. But if she wanted me, she was going to have fight for me.

It seemed she was well aware of that. With a rough tug on my body, she slammed me harder against her before slipping both hands below my ass and hoisting me in the air. I only had a moment to panic before I was falling, and then only another moment before the feathery-down of the unmade bed was giving beneath my back. It was at this point that I could have rolled to freedom. But then, I suppose that is an entirely subjective point of view.

Words are often lies disguised as beauty; anyone can say anything to you and pretend sincerity — it’s a choice as to whether you will be foolish enough to believe them. Even those words that are not outright deception — even words I’ve spoken to myself, things I knew to be true…half of my life has been spent discovering that my truths were lies. So no, I don’t put much faith in words. A difficult thing, indeed, when hearing the ones Rhiannon chose. Made more difficult, by how desperately I wanted to believe her. She crawled between my legs, knelt there, her hands running up and down the length of my calves, my thighs, as her eyes bored fire into me. Her touch was demanding, and a small part of me still cried out for rebellion. She silenced it the moment she laid her body on top of me and made love to my tongue. I wrapped my legs and arms around her, pulling her harder on top of me, nearly screaming when she unexpectedly thrust her mound against my throbbing clit.

“Say you belong to me.”

But I wouldn’t. And she knew why. Instead I turned my face roughly to the side as I raked my nails down her back after yet another delicious thrust from her.

“Say it, Jenna. Say you’ll let go and let yourself be loved by me. Say you’re mine, pet.” Oh no god, no don’t brush lightly against me, Jesus, that slight rhythm against my sex, teasing me, making me wetter and hotter… “Say it. I’ll keep after you until you do.”

“Keep after me, then,” I hoarsely struggled out. “I don’t — ah! — I can’t — oh JESUS Rhiannon—”

“I love you.” She moved, fluidly, subtly, but so swiftly that I wasn’t aware of what she was doing until I felt her hot, wet cunt pressing down directly on mine. Her small hips moved in a delicious tempo, rubbing us together, and every moment was constricting my chest and heightening the ache in my pussy. “I’m here, Jenna. I’ll always be here. And so will you.”

For my part, I could do nothing but stifle my cries as her hands began to play a wicked game with my nipples. I’m not one for gentle, tender sucking; if you want my breasts, for Christ’s sake, claim them. Let me feel your teeth and tongue, the hot suction of your mouth, the desperation and the force in every taste you take from me. And Rhiannon’s touch, was not gentle and tender. And every tug, pull, tease, demand, rough and delicious manipulation made our cunts slide together all the more frantically and frenzied.

Fuck me woman… Jesus fuck me just like that…

Every woman has her secrets; and every secret has its clues. But I kept mine tightly hidden beneath layers of steel; the only times I allowed them to feel daylight, were in my paintings.

That, above all, had been the undoing of our pleasurable little seduction.

When Rhiannon had taken me into her dining room, there was something her eyes said that her words did not. Her voice, so soft and tentative, (“I always wanted to know, why it was so sad”) changed when she looked at me. And in her eyes, I saw understanding and empathy.

“I think I do know now.”

You arrogant ass…

“You don’t believe in beauty anymore, do you Jenna?”

You arrogant, intrusive ass. So you look and see violence where most look and see sorrow, you notice the bottle when most eyes don’t gleam it from the shadows, you’ve seen a few portraits of my childish past and now you think you know me. Oh, I know you would insist I add to that list, that I mention the night you came to me three months ago, the night that Shattered Everything. But it was not my decision, that you witness me that night.

Every woman has her secrets. And I had not given this woman permission to share mine.

Or had I? I’d just stood there, that night. I could have screamed at her, I could have thrown her out — either one would have been right up my alley, really. But I’d simply stood there. And then, shame of all shames, I went to her. As if her presence within my secret was something ridiculous to deny. I’d gone to her and fallen into her arms, a wild and unkempt version of myself, and sank with her down, down, into the depths of my abyss. It doesn’t matter, what had happened that night. What matters is that it had ripped my steel into shards, and she had come to me. But I had not asked… I had not allowed…

I’ve heard it said that anger is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Mine, was boiling me into a war cry, and I was just about to reach up, to seize one of those beautiful, mouthwatering breasts, when suddenly Gone — the pressure was Gone, her sex against mine Gone, my mind was Gone and I screamed at the paradoxical agony that came from the feeling of nothing. But it didn’t even have time to die on my lips, before her hands roughly grabbed me, flipped me over onto my stomach, my hair falling wild over my face and spilling onto the pillow as her ferocious hiss electrified the lobe of my ear.

Taut nipples grazed my shoulder blades, and I could feel the heat from her as she lowered her wet sex onto my ass. “Out of my mind” could not begin to describe how I felt when she finally began to pleasure herself against me. My God…so wet…sliding grinding burning on the skin beneath her — my skin, her need, her fulfillment, my desire.

“I was there, baby,” she whispered in a feral voice, as if she had read my thoughts of earlier. “And like it or not, you accepted me there.”

“You broke into my house!” I cried. But it came out something far more akin to a moan of surrender.

“I forced the door open, yes. But you needed that. You still need that. Ahhh…” Her rhythm picked up again, and I buried my face in the pillow to hide my pleasure. “God baby… I love this ass…”

I couldn’t bite back the moan that slipped into the muffling down of the pillow; but I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge it, either. “Not for you… to decide what I need.”

“Yes, for me. Mmmm… Besides, I didn’t — ohhh… decide. I knew. I knew to come by… I knew… to force your door open, to walk in without waiting for permission. I knew… oh sweet God… to stay with you, to…sink with you. I knew to suffer your pain as my own.”

Oh, Arrogance. But she was right; and I lifted my ass ever so slightly, pressing into her hot and hungry cunt. Her primal cry was my reward.

There was no more talking, after that… not for quite a while. She’d kept the rhythm of her masturbation to a slow and chocolate rhythm, but now her hips went wild. She was so wet, the honey of her sex coating my ass and I couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it, all I could do was fuck against her in the desperate need to feel her cum on top of me. But again, suddenly she was Gone the sensation Gone – until her wet mouth replaced her wet cunt, tongue licking up every drop of her own nectar from my flesh. The teasing sizzle was too fucking much for me, and the pillow couldn’t hide my screams as I thrust against her mouth, begging her by the motion of my hips to slip that sweet tongue lower.

Warm hands took hold of me, an arm wrapped around my waist and she demanded my body to its hands and knees, herself kneeling behind me. One of those hands thrust between my thighs, two fingers finally dipping into the sopping wet fire of my pussy as she lightly stroked my clit, rubbing it in too-gentle circles.

But I wasn’t ready to beg.

Instead I rose up, off of my hands, and leaned back against the warmth of her body. Her other hand cupped my breast and I placed my hand over her own, both of us kneading and claiming the flesh beneath. And then, of all things, in the midst of our heat and need and lust and frenzy, she gently, softly kissed my cheek.

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was just Time, and no matter what she had done I would have begun to cry. I felt the burn of tears spilling out from my eyelashes, and for the first time in my life I just gave into them. I was out of energy and desire to run.

She laid me down on my back and cradled me, kissing my lips and eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, and her hand slipped in circles over my skin.

“I think you do,” I struggled out, a tired and fearful smile slipping across my mouth.

“Say you belong to me, Jenna.” Her fingers had come achingly close – and maddeningly too far — to where I Needed them to be. And what was the point of fighting? Couldn’t there be just one bit of reality that wasn’t laced in arsenic?

“I belong to you,” I said thickly through my tears. And as soon as the words were out of my mouth, she pushed inside of me, forcefully penetrating my sex. “Ahhh!! Please!”

“Anything, lover…”

“Rhiannon, please! OH God!” Words became wild grunts and cries as I lost my mind in the stabbing heat of her. I never wanted it to end; I wanted her to fuck me for hours, for days, staying forever deep inside of me. Her mouth roughly attacked my neck, the flesh above my breast, my nipple, where she sucked and teased me into insanity. By the time she was hovering, breathing hot mist over my clit, I was already a thousand miles above the bed. That first, liquid shiver of her tongue, brought me back immediately, and I bucked into the air as if my blood was on fire. I lost track of time, of my surroundings, of anything other than Her Fucking Me, her tongue gliding over my pussy and her fingers tearing a new path to bliss. When I came, I came violently — and still she didn’t stop; she didn’t let up for a moment, not even as I lost control and slammed my cunt against her face and hand. Again and again she sent me through the waves; until my body was convulsing and I was begging her, almost nonsensically, to stop.

She crawled up my body and waited for me to recover; the smell of my own pleasure bringing me back to my senses.

“Don’t you even think about moving, just yet,” she smiled, her voice low and graveled.

I reached up one shaking hand, and cupped the side of her face, losing myself in ordinary hazel eyes.

“I need you,” I whispered, frozen in fear to admit it.

She kissed the palm of my hand and looked inside of me. “Jenna, I know. You’ll never be without me.”

After thirty-seven years of running, a girl tends to be a bit exhausted. Run from alcoholism and violence, run from insanity and abuse, run from people whom you can’t trust, run from yourself whom you can trust less. When Rhiannon lay down beside me and pulled me into her arms, I nestled deeper, my head burrowing into the crook of her neck. There are many things that I have felt with lovers, over the years. But up until that moment, I’d never felt as if I’d finally come Home.

Perhaps this is the part where I should tell you I went to sleep, happily imagining all the delicious, sexual ways I’d wake her up in the morning. Bollocks. I didn’t imagine anything. I had all I could handle, just from accepting the beauty of Reality. Something to believe in.