“I could listen to you all night long,” Serena finds herself saying without much thought. She didn’t plan on being this honest, and suddenly she’s nervous. Feels unsure about her decision to finally gather all her courage to go and speak to the pianist she admired from afar. Ducking her head, she looks down at the grand piano, lets her hand glide along the shiny black corpus.
“Well, you’ve been doing exactly that quite often during the last weeks.” The blonde pianist sounds amused.
She stops her leisurely playing, and when Serena finally looks at her again, her brown eyes are firmly fixed on Serena, giving her a contemplative look that pins her to the spot. Serena swallows, unable to look away.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve been here,” she says. Serena’s eyes widen at the realisation that while she’s been observing, she’s also been observed. “You always sit in the same booth. You’re always alone. And you always watch me. Tell me why you come here?”
The question is unexpectedly candid, drives any possible excuse from Serena’s mind, and her mouth goes dry.
“Because of you,” she finds herself whispering.
The blonde raises an eyebrow at this, considering. Breaks their gaze and looks around the room, Serena following her eyes.
They are almost on their own now, only the barkeeper and two other patrons left - one sitting at the bar, the other in a booth, engrossed in his mobile phone. She rises from the piano bench, startling Serena with her unexpected move. Her sudden nearness makes Serena’s head spin, and she leans a bit weakly against the piano.
“Wait a moment.” She gives Serena’s arm a quick squeeze, turns away to walk towards the bar.
Serena takes the chance to appreciate her looks even more than usual, now that she’s not halfway hidden by her instrument - her slender build, the long legs, normally tucked under the piano, clad in delightfully form fitting trousers, the waistcoat accentuating her narrow waist. Warmth spreads through her at the sight of the blonde leaning over the side of the bar. She’s so engrossed in watching her while she talks to the barkeeper, that she misses the moment she turns around, gets caught staring. Serena blushes and her hand nervously rubs the pendant she’s wearing, but the other woman just smiles.
The barkeeper hands over a bottle of wine and two glasses, and they speak for a moment across the bar. With a final nod she turns around. She looks satisfied with herself, gives Serena the most beautiful smile while walking back her way.
She places the two glasses on a small table next to the piano, pours the wine and sets the bottle down.
“Shiraz is your favourite, right?”
“How would you-“
“You always order Shiraz. I even expanded our range for you.”
“You expanded the wine list? Wait, so this is your place?”
The blonde chuckles and takes Serena’s hand to shake it.
“Hi. Berenice, well, Bernie Wolfe. Bar owner and pianist. And you are…?”
“Serena Campbell,” she replies on autopilot, because her mind is still stuck on Bernie holding her hand. Her grip is warm and sure, long fingers grazing along Serena’s pulse point.
“Serena,” Bernie repeats slowly, like she’s tasting every syllable, savoring them. Serena swallows hard, already wishes she could hear her name being spoken like this again and again.
Then her hand is let go, and she can barely repress a distressed noise before she is handed a glass of wine instead. Bernie leans next to her against the piano and gives her a radiant smile, raising her glass to hers to clink them together.
“To you, finally coming to speak to me.” Bernie’s eyes slide away a moment, as if she’s gathering her courage. “I hoped you would, someday. I’ll admit, I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Face heating, Serena almost downs half the glass of wine in one go in an attempt to ease her suddenly dry throat. Bernie watches her every movement with a mixture of amusement, and what looks like barely hidden desire, Serena guesses.
She shivers when Bernie’s hand takes hers again, long fingers caressing her, a thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“I watched you too, you know?” Bernie glides her hand leisurely up Serena’s arm, carefully touching the sleeve of her dress.
“I thought about you. Wondered every day if you’d come by. Felt unexpectedly happy the times you did, and a bit sad the times you didn’t.”
A finger paints an intricate pattern along her upper arm, raises a flush of goose bumps on her skin, and she can feel her heart beating faster and faster in her chest.
Bernie’s touch stills, and Serena blinks, feels like she’s woken from a trance.
“May I?” Bernie nods at her wine glass and makes a motion with her free hand. Serena just nods back and hands her the glass, to be placed on the table alongside Bernie’s.
Bernie turns back to her and her look is contemplating, a bit of uncertainty showing through her confident exterior. Serena finds it unexpectedly comforting and charming.
“Here we are now,” she starts, gaze flicking to the piano and around the room. The room that - now Serena has come back to her senses - is actually empty.
The lights at the bar have been turned down low, the only other light the one over the piano, the barman and the other patrons apparently gone.
“Here we are now, indeed...” Serena hasn’t planned this, hasn’t planned anything, but just being here with Bernie has her breathless with anticipation.
“All alone as you might have noticed,” Bernie gestures at the room, “and in case you ask yourself, the bar is closed now. I told Dom to lock the place up when he left.”
Serena just looks at Bernie, her gaze falling to her lips, a bit thin, but inviting nevertheless. A hand finds its way to her arm again, making her shiver against it.
“I’d like to kiss you, Serena.” Her name sounds almost foreign to herself, the reverent way it’s spoken, and she closes her eyes, reveling in Bernie’s voice. “Would you like me to kiss you?”
She instinctively knows that she could just say no, could stop this, knows that Bernie would give her space and let her go without a bad word, but she doesn’t want to. There’s nothing she wants more than to be kissed by this beautiful woman that she’s spent so much time watching during the last months.
“Serena?” She can hear the questioning in Bernie’s voice, a hint of hesitance shining through.
Serena opens her eyes, smiles at Bernie standing right in front of her.
“Yes, please. I’d very much like that.”
The corners of Bernie’s mouth lift at that, and for a moment they just stay where they are, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then Bernie takes a step towards Serena, cups her chin to lift her face, tilts her head and presses their lips together.
Her lips are warm and soft, far softer than Serena would have thought. She hears Bernie give a soft hum, feels her thumb brush along the corner of her mouth, fingertips caress her jawline, and then Bernie’s hand slides into Serena’s hair, fingernails lightly scratching at her scalp. She moans at the sensation and Bernie uses the chance to intensify their kiss, clasps Serena’s waist with one arm, and tugs their bodies flush.
Serena melts into her. Can’t really comprehend that this is actually happening right now, but doesn’t care. Their kiss is exceptional, lighting up every single nerve end of Serena’s body, making her feel like she hasn’t felt in a long time, if she ever felt like this before.
Bernie’s warm body is pressing her against the piano, those talented hands gliding along her curves, as Bernie continues to kiss her senseless. Suddenly Serena feels herself being hoisted up, can’t stop a surprised yelp and a disappointed groan at the loss of Bernie’s mouth on hers.
Bernie chuckles and takes a step back. Serena feels breathless, and more than a bit self conscious at the thought of what she must look like: sitting on the grand piano with kiss swollen lips, flushed skin, ruffled hair.
She makes a move to get back down to the ground, thinks maybe Bernie stepped away because she’s changed her mind.
“Stop.” Bernie’s voice is hoarse, and when Serena looks at her, her eyes are dark and full of ardour. “Stay.”
It’s a command, not a request. A command that Serena obeys willingly. Bernie just stands there in front of her, hands in her pockets, taking Serena in, practically appraising her.
“You’re beautiful,” she says, taking a step closer. “So beautiful.” Another step places her right in front of Serena, their legs touching.
“I want to ravish you,” and with this Bernie places her hands on Serena’s knees. Serena looks down at them, sees thumbs drawing slow circles on her thighs, their motion entrancing her until Bernie’s voice breaks through to her again.
“I want you to come undone right here, right on top of the piano, so that I can think about you every time I sit down to play.” Her hands part Serena’s legs and she steps between them. Serena can’t stop another groan, feels the heat coming off Bernie’s body and instinctively closes her legs around her. Bernie gives a low chuckle in response and caresses Serena’s legs.
“Quite eager, aren’t you?” Her hands go up again, one taking hold of Serena’s hip, the other continuing it’s way up her body, fingers skimming over her dress, along the side of her breast, making her gasp at the sensation until the hand takes hold of her nape.
They are incredibly close now, Serena towering a bit above Bernie, who looks up at her through her fringe. Serena doesn’t want to wait any longer, wants to continue to kiss Bernie and tries to lean forward, only to find herself being held in place by Bernie’s strong hands.
“Eager…” she feels Bernie whisper against her jaw, as she makes Serena dip her head back, “so eager.”
Bernie’s lips touch Serena’s pulse point and she gives a small whimper. A sharp nip to her collarbone makes her gasp and tighten her legs around Bernie. A soothing lick follows, and Serena just wants to melt; melt into Bernie and her hands, her lips, the heat of her body, her voice.
She closes her eyes, because everything is becoming a bit too much. Too many sensations flood her, but then Bernie starts to kiss her again, eager and hungry herself, and Serena just lets go, responds with equal hunger and vigour.
They kiss for a while, only stop to come up for air if absolutely needed, the sensation building up and up in Serena’s body until nothing else matters anymore. She can feel Bernie’s fingers digging into her nape and her hip, can feel the heat emitting from Bernie’s body, can smell her perfume and underneath that their arousal.
Bernie breaks their kiss with a last nip at Serena’s swollen bottom lip, and Serena mewls at the loss, tries to catch Bernie’s mouth, only to feel her grip tighten around her nape again, to pull Serena down towards the piano.
“Lay back.” Bernie’s breath sounds ragged, but her voice doesn’t permit any protest, and Serena surrenders, allowing herself to be guided down. The piano’s surface is cold to her back even through her dress, and she can’t hold her legs around Bernie any longer in this position, so she lets them fall open instead. Hears Bernie give a sharp intake of breath.
“Exceptional.” Bernie says, leaning forward to lay her hands on Serena’s shoulders, and place small kisses along the neckline of her dress, near her breasts.
Serena wants to hold onto Bernie, wants to touch her. She runs her hands through that wild blonde hair until she feels Bernie unbend, carefully taking hold of Serena’s wrists, only to place them firmly on the piano.
“Leave them there.” Again, Serena thinks that this isn’t actually a request, but a command.
“Let me take care of you. Concentrate on you.” Bernie’s hands glide up Serena’s bare arms again, leaving goose bumps along their way. Up her shoulders and down her sides, Bernie’s thumbs suddenly digging in beneath her hip bones, and Serena pushes up into the caress, craving to be touched, to feel more of those long, slender fingers.
“I want to watch you.”
Serena shudders at the need in Bernie’s voice. Most of the time she isn’t self-conscious about her body, but having someone request access to her like this is unfamiliar, equally thrilling and daunting.
Bernie’s hands reach the hem of Serena’s dress, and her fingers take hold of it, begin to push the dress up at a maddening slow pace. Everytime Serena starts to wiggle to make Bernie go faster, she stops altogether, until Serena finally relents and tries to relax and be patient.
“Good girl.” Bernie places a kiss on Serena’s stocking-clad knee, the dress bunched up almost at her hips now. Bernie’s fingers find their way under the dress, towards the stocking’s waistband.
“May I?” she asks and Serena just manages to nod eagerly, while doing her best to lift her hips in her current position. Bernie takes a step away, while slowly rolling the stockings down her legs, and Serena moans at the loss of contact.
“It’s alright,” Bernie says soothingly, stroking her leg with a thumb, “I’ve got you.”
One hand takes hold of Serena’s ankle, while the other slides her shoe off her foot, taking the stockings with it. Serena feels the light fabric drop to the ground, only to be followed by the soft thud of her shoe hitting the floor.
“I like the heels,” Bernie tells her in a conversational tone, while repeating the process with Serena’s other foot, “but they’ll have to go for now.”
Finally rid of the stockings, Bernie rubs her thumbs along the bridge of Serena’s foot. Never before had Serena felt so aroused by someone just touching her feet. She can’t help herself, tries to tug Bernie nearer by winding her legs around her hips again. Bernie groans and presses herself against Serena. It feels like Bernie is pressed right against Serena’s core, and all Serena can do is gasp and grind herself against her.
Bernie grabs her hips and tugs her more tightly against her body. Serena feels her dress being pushed up even further, and then Bernie’s fingers find the hem of her knickers. With a soft hum, Bernie gently strokes her thumb down the center of the silky material, along the rapidly increasing damp. Serena’s breath hitches and she can feel another gush of wetness following the touch.
A small growl escapes Bernie. She parts Serena’s legs, holds them tight, and Serena feels wanton, exposed, lying spread eagled in front of the other woman, completely submitted to her gaze.
“Look at how wet you already are.” Bernie sounds admiring, eyes roaming Serena’s body. “How eager for me to touch you.”
Serena tries to keep herself still, but can’t suppress a sound at the thought of Bernie’s fingers finally finding their way to where she needs them most.
“Do you want me to touch you?” Bernie leans down to place a kiss at the inside of Serena’s thigh. Serena nods eagerly, gasps sharply as Bernie nips at her skin.
“Use your words, Serena. Do you want me to touch you?”
Serena has to take a few breaths before she’s able to speak, Bernie waiting patiently for her to respond.
“Yes, please,” she finally manages. The heat of Bernie’s eyes on her body is making her lightheaded, and she wonders deliriously if there even are words to admit how much she wants Bernie to touch her, how much she needs Bernie to make her come.
“Very good.” Bernie praises her again, and Serena feels an unexpected rush at her words.
“I’ll touch you, but I want you to take this dress off first. Can you do that for me?”
Serena just nods and sits up. Her hands shake and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. Manages to pull her dress off over her head in an almost smooth motion. Hears Bernie take in a sharp breath in response. The cold air hits her skin, and she shivers at the contrast to Bernie’s hands on her legs, practically burning imprints into her skin. Her gaze travels along Serena’s body like a caress, and she can feel her nipples harden.
“You look divine.”
Bernie’s eyes hold Serena’s, while her hand finds the back clasp of Serena’s bra. It only takes a second for it to fall open under skilled fingers. Serena feels the strong hand supporting her back, guiding her down to lay back on the piano again.
For a moment, she wonders if Bernie might climb up onto the piano with her, because she seems to be pressing closer and closer. Then Bernie’s thumbs brush her breasts through the flimsy material of her bra, and Serena stops thinking at all. Bernie takes the straps and pulls them off Serena’s shoulders, down her arms, and finally the garment is pulled away from her body and discarded.
Not in her wildest fantasies would Serena have imagined ending her day by being splayed out on top of a grand piano, wearing only her knickers, but here they are, here she is, lying in front of Bernie Wolfe, and loving every single moment of it.
A thumb brushes over her nipple again, and Serena arches up into the touch, her eyes slipping close. She wants to concentrate on feeling everything Bernie has to offer her. A kiss is placed on her stomach, making her shiver a bit, another follows to the side of her breast.
A firm hand pins her shoulder to the piano, and suddenly Bernie’s mouth is on her breast; all warm and wet, her tongue lashing at Serena’s nipple. Serena lets out an indecently loud moan, straining against Bernie’s hand.
Her response only serves to spur Bernie on, and she starts to stroke, flicker and swirl her tongue in earnest. Serena can’t stop herself from squirming, tries to grind up against Bernie, but can’t find enough purchase to do so. The feeling of Bernie’s warm mouth on one of her breasts, Bernie’s hand cupping the other, her weight resting on Serena’s legs and hip and shoulder, the salaciousness of the whole situation overwhelms her, has her desperate for more.
More Bernie, more feelings, more weight, more everything.
Serena can’t leave her hands by her side anymore, surprises both of them by grabbing Bernie’s shoulders and hoisting her further up her body, just to be able to kiss her.
They both groan in unison as their mouths clash together. There’s nothing delicate about this kiss, just teeth and tongue and desperation for more.
Bernie doesn’t stop Serena’s hands from holding onto her this time. Serena takes her chance and tangles a hand into Bernie’s hair, scratches at her scalp, pulls at some strands when a thumb brushes her erect nipple. Now it’s her turn to chuckle as Bernie groans in response, while they continue to kiss. She gives another experimental tug, a bit harder this time, and is rewarded with Bernie growling into her mouth, and grinding into Serena in response.
Eventually they both have to come up for air, their lips swollen and red. Their eyes lock, and Serena can see her want and need mirrored in Bernie’s impossibly dark eyes.
“I want to fuck you.”
Bernie's dark voice, the directness of her words, makes Serena moan helplessly.
“I want to feel you clench around my fingers.” Bernie’s right hand caresses its way towards Serena’s thigh. “I want to hear you cry out when you come.” Her fingers stroke along the edge of Serena’s knickers, making her shiver and lift her hips. “And after that,” and with this her fingers finally bunch the garment aside, slip easily between Serena’s warm, wet folds, “I want to make you come again.”
Without preamble two fingers fill Serena, the long awaited feeling of Bernie Wolfe inside her even better than expected. She falls back with a groan and gives herself over to Bernie’s ministrations.
They took so long, Bernie apparently doesn’t care about going slow now and Serena is relieved. She wants to feel thoroughly filled by those long fingers, wants to feel the burn of them as long as possible, even if she instinctively knows that she won’t last long.
“You feel incredible.” Bernie leans forward while thrusting her fingers in and out of Serena relentlessly. “So wet. So warm.” She licks Serena's breast while using the thrust of her hip to aid her fingers. Serena’s stomach muscles clench, and she can feel the sensation building up inside her, can’t stop herself from pushing back into Bernie’s hand.
“More,” she gasps, and Bernie understands perfectly, a third finger quickly joining the other two, stretching her in the most delicious way. Serena only manages an approving groan when Bernie curls her fingers inside her and starts to stroke Serena’s clit with her thumb.
It’s overwhelming, and all Serena can do is to grab Bernie’s arm and hold tight to it as she hurtles towards her release. Suddenly she feels Bernie’s teeth clamp around her nipple, her thumb pressing down on her clit, and with a cry she comes, arching her back, pressing her eyes closed, stars lighting up behind them. Her orgasm washes over her in wave after wave, making her feel like she’s drowning in the most delicious way. After a while she goes limp, her breath starts to even out, and for a moment she just drifts off on feeling sated.
It isn’t until Bernie kisses her stomach that Serena realizes she’s only slowed down, that she’s still filling Serena, but at an incredible slow pace, two of her fingers yet to stop moving inside her. She whimpers softly, unsure if she wants to continue, or needs a break.
“I warned you.” Bernie breathes warm air against her breast, and Serena’s ache to feel that mouth on her body sparks back into life. “I won’t stop just yet. There’s too many things I want to do to you.”
Serena shivers, and unexpectedly, she can feel the sensation in her belly building up again. Feels Bernie’s finger slide in and out of her so slowly, she’s almost willing to beg her to go faster. Almost, but not yet. She tries to relax against the cold, smooth surface of the piano, and to just keep on receiving what Bernie decides to give to her. Chuckles with the thought that Bernie is apparently able to play her as masterfully as she plays the instrument underneath Serena.
“I love how you look right now.” The words are whispered into her ear, and Serena shudders when Bernie’s lips brush against it. “Spread out for me. Smiling. Hovering between exhaustion and arousal. Are you feeling exhausted right now, Serena?” Bernie asks, as she simultaneously nips at Serena’s lobe, and flicks her thumb over Serena’s still very sensitive clit. Serena gives a small yelp and arches off the piano, earning herself a small humming noise from Bernie.
“I think I missed your answer, dear. Are you exhausted?” Something in Bernie’s voice makes Serena open her eyes, just to find the other woman staring intently at her with a look that she can only describe as hunger.
“A bit,” Serena whispers, unsure if there is a right and a wrong answer, if something she might say would make Bernie stop. She doesn’t want Bernie to stop.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Bernie shows no sign of being annoyed by Serena’s answer, and she lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Feels Bernie’s fingers still sliding in and out of her at the same maddening slow pace.
She looks at Bernie, watches her gaze glide over her body, pausing to look at her fingers continuing to leisurely fuck Serena. Bernie’s other hand combs through Serena’s hair, brushes some sweaty strands aside. Her thumb caresses first Serena’s cheekbone, then her lips. Bernie bends forwards, places a soft kiss on Serena’s lips and touches their foreheads together. A sense of warmth and care wraps around Serena like a blanket, and she longs to stay in this glorious feeling.
“Let me tell you this,” Bernie whispers, placing a small kiss on the corner of Serena’s mouth. “If you think you’re exhausted now, just wait until I’ve had my fill of you.”
Serena’s breath hitches as Bernie’s fingers pick up speed again, start to thrust into her in earnest. She feels incredibly wet, can clearly hear the sound Bernie’s fingers make, but she’s still sensitive, and torn between the impulse to push into Bernie’s hand, or pull away. Then Bernie’s fingertips crook against her inner wall and Serena lets out a low moan, her mind made up.
“That’s it. Show me that you like this. Let me hear you.”
One of Bernie’s hands cups Serena’s breast, as she continues to stroke her fingers against that sensitive spot again and again. Her thumb circles her areola and Serena can’t hold back a whimper. Soft caresses turn to a firm pinch to her nipple and Serena hisses out a breath, the short and sharp pain followed by an exquisite rush of heat as Bernie’s mouth follows her fingers.
Serena arches her back, desperate for every bit of sensation she’s offered. Bernie’s trousers rub against her, and Serena mewls at the feel of the rough fabric, too much and still not enough at the same time. Tries to grind herself against Bernie as much as she can while being pinned down by her lean body. Serena’s exhaustion seems to have vanished, chased away by the familiar tugging sensation in her belly, by the slow beginning of another orgasm. Not quite there yet, but not too far away either - when Bernie’s fingers slow down again.
“Bernie…” Her voice sounds desperate to her own ears, but she feels like she needs to come right now or she might burst and shatter into a thousand pieces. Bernie places a kiss on her stomach.
“Serena.” Her voice is low and Serena knows, knows that she’ll have to tell Bernie what she wants to get the orgasm she needs.
“Don’t stop.” Serena lifts her hips a bit to encourage Bernie to pick up her pace again. “Please…”
“I haven’t,” comes the low answer, followed by a flip of Bernie’s tongue at Serena’s nipple. “I told you I won’t.”
“Please...” Serena tenses around Bernie’s fingers. Hears her groan at that and promptly tenses again.
Apparently this is encouragement enough, and Serena can finally feel her picking up speed once more. Feels her long fingers drive against her again and again, and does her best to grind herself down on them.
Her second orgasm comes almost unexpectedly. One moment she’s desperately grinding against Bernie’s hand, chasing the feeling of being filled, the next she’s clenching rhythmically around her fingers, with an involuntary loud shout that’s overlaid by Bernie’s delighted laugh.
Serena trembles and flutters and tenses over and over, unable to stop the sounds that leave her. Bernie is kissing her way up and down her body, and Serena just gives herself over to her hands and mouth with a long sigh, feels herself shudder and shudder again. Bernie’s fingers take her through her orgasm, not stopping until Serena’s finally relaxes around them.
She places another kiss on Serena’s stomach and carefully slips her fingers out of her. Serena gives a soft mewling noise at the loss of feeling filled. She opens her eyes to see Bernie take an experimental lick at her fingers. Her breath hitches, heart thumping in her chest as she watches Bernie lick her fingers clean, holding her gaze all the while.
“I knew you’d taste exquisite.” Bernie gives her what must be her most innocent smile, and Serena can only shake her head fondly.
“Do you want some wine? Or some water? I can get you water.”
“I want to kiss you again.” Serena props herself up on her elbows and lets her gaze wander over Bernie. Bernie, who is still fully clothed, in stark contrast to Serena, who’s left in only her completely ruined knickers.
Bernie lets her hands glide along Serena’s legs, eyes following their motion. She turns away for a moment, one hand still on Serena’s body, and takes a quick sip of wine. She presses her body against Serena’s, legs firmly slotted between Serena’s thighs, and kisses her again.
Bernie tastes of wine, smoke, an unexpected hint of chocolate, and of Serena. Very much of Serena, and Serena groans into their kiss at the realization.
They kiss for a while; slow, leisurely kisses, passionate but not frantic. Bernie’s leg keeps firm pressure against Serena’s core as her hands roam over her body, making her shiver again and again. She can feel her wetness pooling against Bernie’s leg, can feel the goosebumps running along her spine after Bernie softly scratches along her back. Her fingernails are too short to mark Serena, who suddenly wishes it would be otherwise. All the while she keeps on kissing Bernie, taking pleasure from her mouth and tongue, until Bernie breaks their kiss to take in a deep breath.
“Let me relieve you of this,” she says in a low voice, and with a swift step back, she gives herself enough room to remove Serena’s knickers. Her fingers caress the silky material, before she lets the garment drop to the floor.
She looks at Serena, half sitting, half laying in front of her, legs splayed out and hanging off the edge of the piano. Bernie moves forward again and takes both of Serena’s feet into her hands, supporting her legs, thumbs drawing circles on Serena’s ankles.
“Slide up a bit, will you?”
Serena feels almost hypnotized by Bernie’s eyes and the soothing motion of her fingers. She scoots up a bit, watches Bernie carefully bend her legs, setting her feet on the piano.
“This is why we couldn’t hold on to the heels, you know?” Bernie tells her conversationally, while her eyes roam Serena’s naked body, hands stroking along her legs.
“I’d love to fuck you wearing nothing but those heels, but they would surely have scratched the piano.” Gentle fingers caress the soft skin of Serena’s inner thighs, and the thought of being fucked by Bernie while wearing nothing but a pair of heels is so unexpectedly thrilling that Serena lets herself fall back onto the piano with a groan.
Bernie’s hands reach the apex of Serena’s thighs, and she bends forward to place a kiss against her knee. Her thumb brushes softly over dark, wet curls and Serena shivers under her hands and mouth.
“Now spread your legs for me, darling.”
Serena can do nothing but comply with Bernie’s request. Warm hands take hold of her hips, and thumbs dig a bit into the soft flesh just below her hip bones. Serena rises into the touch, craves the feeling, even though she’s still tired.
“So good. Let me see you.” Bernie’s dark voice is almost like a caress on its own, enhancing Serena’s feeling of being completely encompassed by her. She can see Bernie’s eyes are firmly fixed between her legs and a sudden rush of desire washes over her, followed by a rush of wetness between her legs. Bernie’s breath hitches and her hands tighten her grip on Serena’s hips.
“You look beautiful. Divine. Delicious.” Each word is accompanied by a kiss further along Serena’s legs. “Devourable.”
Serena whines at the realisation of what will come next and the moment she closes her eyes, she feels Bernie’s breath against her centre. Her tongue slides against her, a soft lick all along her labia, almost too soft, too light a touch. The second lick is firmer, Bernie’s tongue parting her, gliding over her entrance almost up to her clit, circling away at the last moment. Serena groans and bucks into Bernie’s face, only to be held down by her hands.
“You’re even more delicious this way.” Bernie murmurs against her, her tongue’s motion constant, but still deliberately missing out on the point where Serena needs her most.
She brings her hand towards Bernie’s head and grabs her hair, tugging harder at it than planned in her need for more. Bernie gives a long moan that vibrates right through Serena, and speeds up her ministrations. It’s not enough, though and even though Serena is already panting, half desperate, she needs more. Bernie’s tongue misses her clit once again, and Serena whimpers.
“Bernie…” her voice is ragged, breathing harsh. She feels Bernie hum against her, not stopping, but also not giving in without being stubborn about it.
“Bernie, please.” Bernie’s tongue circles her entrance, her motions more and more insistent. Serena can feel sweat form between her breasts, arches her back against the hands pinning her down. “I… need more, please.”
Bernie’s slides her tongue into Serena, and her mind reels, a long, low groan echoing through the bar. Bernie is fucking her with her tongue and, god she’s good at it. Serena hangs on to the feeling of being fucked, again, and also on to Bernie; Bernie’s hands on her body, Bernie’s hair between her fingers, Bernie’s body pressed against her. She shudders and grinds into Bernie’s mouth, chasing her release.
Bernie tries to hold her down with an arm pressed across her belly, her other hand finding Serena’s clit. A fingertip swirls firm, circling strokes, and Serena starts to babble.
She doesn’t really know what she’s saying, barely aware of the sounds leaving her, and then she comes with a shout, Bernie’s name on her lips. Bernie switches tactics, fingers filling Serena, tongue circling her clit in sure, fast strokes, and before she’s even through her latest orgasm, Serena comes again. And again.
When she finally comes round, Bernie’s head is resting on her stomach, hands slowly caressing her body, the touch soothing rather than arousing. She feels completely spent, has to muster all of her energy just to open her eyes and raise her hand to stroke through Bernie’s hair. Lets the soft strands glide through her fingers, hears an affirmative murmur coming from Bernie. Her hand drops back to the piano, holding it up even that long apparently too much for her exhausted body.
Eventually Bernie stands up with a small groan, unbends her back, but continues to stroke Serena, slow touches from her shoulder to her thighs and back up again.
“I think it’s about time to get you off the piano.” Bernie softly kneads her hip.
Serena knows she has to get up at some point - she can’t sleep on the piano for certain - but right now she can barely feel her legs and she wonders how she’ll be able to move, to make her way home.
Wonders what will become of her and Bernie after she leaves the bar.
“Come on, Serena. One last effort. Up you sit and off you slide. I’ll help you.“
Bernie’s voice is insistent and Serena sits up with a groan. Looks at Bernie, hair disheveled, skin flushed, sweat glistening on her collarbones that can be seen through her partly unbuttoned shirt. There’s a wet patch on one of her trouser legs and Serena blushes at the sight.
Uncertainty washes over her. It felt so good, so right, in the moment, but now that it’s over, Serena doesn’t know how to progress from here. Her clothes are scattered on the floor, incredibly crumpled, and she doubts that her knickers will be in a wearable state at all.
She slides from the piano, has to lean against it for a moment, body and mind reeling a bit. Then Bernie is standing in front of her, hugging her, pressing her close to her body. Serena sighs and lets herself mold into her, lets herself be held. A kiss is pressed on her hair.
“How about I run you a bath?” Bernie says. “You can soak for a while, and I’ll find you a shirt and some yoga pants to wear to bed.”
For a second Serena thinks she misheard. Gives Bernie a searching look, but only gets a soft smile in response.
“You didn’t think that I’d just let you go now?”
Serena fidgets with the hem of Bernie’s waistcoat, fixes her eyes firmly on the detailed stitching. Of course she thought that Bernie would end their night now. Didn’t think at all that she might be interested in more than a shag on her piano.
“Serena,” Bernie cups her chin and makes her lift her head. “I live upstairs. I’d love for you to come with me. Take a bath. Drink some more wine. Stay the night.” She presses a soft kiss to Serena’s lips, and Serena goes a little weak against her, the sudden relief flooding her body making her even more unsteady than she already is. She holds on to Bernie and the feeling of being cared for, thinks about waking up beside Bernie, joy bubbling up inside her.
“I could reciprocate in the morning.” Serena murmurs against Bernie’s mouth.
“I’ll certainly take you up on that offer.”
Bernie bends down and starts to pick up Serena’s discarded clothes. Suddenly Serena becomes aware of the fact that she’s standing naked in the middle of a bar, barely able to hold herself upright. A laugh bubbles up inside her and breaks free. Bernie looks up and gives her a wide smile. Hands her the rumpled dress, and Serena quickly slips into it.
“We’ll take care of the rest tomorrow,” Bernie says, taking Serena’s hand and leading her towards a door at the side of the bar.
“Tomorrow,” Serena says, and she’s never liked the sound of that word more than just now.