The next Friday when Brenda Leigh returned to her office after a late lunch with Andy in the HQ cafeteria, there was a surprise waiting on her desk. She gasped out loud when she stepped into the door and saw the familiar black handles of her purse tied together by a large, lime green bow.
“Oh, that woman!” she purred under her breath. Behind her, Andy’s ears pricked up and he stepped closer to peer into the office.
“Isn’t that your purse? The one that had a gaping hole in the bottom and was leaking candy like breadcrumbs?” Brenda nodded and, squinting at the bag like it was a mirage, moved to run the fingers of her right hand down the smooth, black leather. It was free of the scratches and dings acquired over many years of hard use.
“Did Raydor kidnap it for ransom or something?”
“No, Lieutenant!” She flashed him a scowl. “I think she might have had it copied - in better leather, too.” Brenda loosened the bow and unwound it from the handles. It was silk. She resisted the urge to bring it to her nose, even though she was positive that it would smell like Sharon. The bag opened with a quiet click; apparently purse 2.0 had a magnetic closure. The lining was still black, but quilted from a double layer of slick cloth. There were pockets in a variety of sizes sewn in, and the whole shebang appeared to be removable so it could be thrown in the washing machine.
“Oh my,” she said in a low voice. She turned back to the door; Andy had wandered away - despite his curiosity about her relationship with Sharon, handbags just didn’t keep his attention. She pulled out her cell and dialed.
“Hey, Brenda Leigh,” Sharon said when she picked up.
“Sharon Raydor, you are a very thoughtful woman,” Brenda husked. She flushed faintly at the tone of her own voice.
“You like it?” Her confidant Captain sounded doubtful. “The original just wasn’t salvageable - the stitching had ruined the edges of the leather.”
“The bag is perfect. There’s a pocket for my cellphone, ammo clip and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was bulletproof.” Brenda crowed happily. Sharon chuckled.
“I’m sorry, but it isn’t. Kevlar is a little heavy for a handbag, honey.”
“Well, I guess it’s better that I can’t use it as a shield during hot entries; it’s much too lovely too be full of bullet holes. Thank you so much, Shari.”
“Mmmmmm,” Sharon deflected. She was absolutely charmed by Brenda Leigh’s enthusiasm over the bag and over her gesture. “If you check the zip pocket you’ll find a little after lunch treat. I love you and I’ll see you tonight, Brenda Leigh, honey.”
“Love you too, Sharon,” Brenda murmured as she fumbled for the leather toggle on the interior zip pocket. She dipped her hand in and pulled out four individually wrapped, handmade truffles. They were from an exorbitantly expensive and ridiculously decadent confectioners that Sharon occasionally bought morsels from. She sniffed the one with the café au lait colored sticker on the bottom of its slick black wrapper. Coffee. She unwrapped it and shaved off a thin sliver with her front teeth. Her eyes rolled back at the combination of rich milk chocolate and the slightly bitter flavor of the coffee.
“Oh, that woman,” she moaned into the quiet of her empty office.
It was Saturday and Sharon Raydor was sunbathing. Not an activity in which she often partook, but it had been a rough week, and recharging her batteries by basking in the sun of this late fall heat-wave seemed to be just the ticket. And now, after two lovely, shattering orgasms courtesy of one Brenda Leigh Johnson, Sharon was sprawled bonelessly on a double wide lounger next to her pool. Brenda was somewhere in the house; she had set up a playlist on the iPod that drove Sharon’s outdoor speakers - a Carly Simon song rolled over into “California” by Joni Mitchell - apparently Brenda was feeling the folk goddesses today. Sharon sighed, utterly content, closed her eyes and tilted her chin towards the sun.
The clatter of the gate shutting startled Sharon out of her doze.
“Sharon Raydor, are you hiding back here?” Ah, the joy having having neighbors who are also friends. Sharon craned her neck to see her visitor.
“Is laying low the same as hiding, Tomás?” Morales rounded the lounger.
“Is it truly laying low when you’re letting the girls out to play?” Morales quipped with a sardonic raised eyebrow at her state of undress, and plopped down next to Sharon. “I hope you’re wearing sunscreen.”
“I’m touched by your concern,” Sharon snarked, “but now isn’t a very good time.” Morales turned his body to look at her dead on.
“But I haven’t seen you in weeks…Is that a hickey?” There was indeed a hickey on the inside curve of Sharon’s left breast. And another in the hollow beneath her right collar bone. Sharon was almost positive there was a third on the swell of her left ass-cheek. Brenda had been feeling a little possessive that morning, and Sharon had loved every second of it.
“Well, at least now I know why you’ve been laying low - casual nudity not withstanding.”
The sliding glass door banged shut. Sharon fought down a cringe; she had no idea how her lover was going to react to the presence of their co-worker in her backyard.
“Shari, baby, will you get my back please?” Brenda Leigh sashayed off the deck, clad in the brief bottom half of her royal blue bikini and holding a tube of sunscreen, then froze when she saw that the lounge chair had an extra occupant. Despite the situation’s enormous potential for awkwardness, Sharon’s mouth went a little dry at the sight of her Brenda Leigh, sylph-like and nearly bare, hair pulled up in a messy bun.
“I didn’t realize we were havin’ a pool party. Hello, Dr. Morales.” She narrowed her eyes at Sharon, mouth contorted in that odd half smile she affected when she was unsure of a situation, flicking her gaze from Sharon to their guest.
“Don’t look at me like that, Brenda Leigh. Tomás dropped by to say hello - you’re the one who decided you wanted to reenact summer on the beaches of the Balkan Med.” Morales let out a guffaw and Brenda turned her glare on him.
“Oh cool it, Chief,” he said, still laughing. “The angry face just doesn’t have the same impact when you’re topless - not that I wasn’t nearly immune anyways.” He stood and cocked his head at Sharon. “Do you mind if I take a dip? My AC is out and the repair guy won’t get to me ’til 4 at the earliest.”
Sharon shrugged a shoulder and looked at Brenda, who said, with a sly pout in Sharon’s direction: “I don’t mind. I guess you’re not really interrupting anything.” Sharon rolled her eyes at Brenda’s brazen teasing.
“Thanks, ladies,” Morales was grateful and quirked a smile at each of them before stepping over to one of the other chairs and stripping down to his trunks. Sweltering in the unseasonable heat, he didn’t spare either of them another glance until he had submerged himself in the shaded waters of the far side of the pool. What he saw was surprising.
Sharon Raydor, eternally a tad aloof and reserved even when she was being friendly, was ostensibly sunscreening the Chief’s hard to reach places, though she looked to be working out a knot beneath the blonde woman’s scapula. Sharon was kneeling behind Brenda with a look of such affection on her face that it took his breath away; she was nearly unrecognizable as the stern police Captain that inhabited HQ, or even as the woman that occasionally got buzzed on wine with him and bitched about their perpetual singledom. And the Chief! Eyes closed, chin lolling on her chest and a nearly beatific smile on her wide-lipped mouth.
He had always noticed the loaded glances that bounced between the two women, and once, in the midst of that Federal lawsuit, a drunk Sharon had confessed to her desire for the pretty blonde Chief (though he was sure she didn’t remember that), but he had always assumed that if anything happened between the two of them, it’d be an angry encounter in the midst of one of their arguments, and that he’d either never hear about it, or Sharon would drunkenly confess to fucking the southern out of the blonde over the desk in her office and then never speak of it again. This apparent domesticity was intriguing. He might have been intruding on their plans for an intimate afternoon in the sun, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t interested in what he saw between them and willing to risk their displeasure (and the eyeful of rather sizable mammary glands) to stick around and see a little more.
Sharon said something to the Chief in a low indistinct tone - Morales couldn’t make out the words, and Brenda slapped her playfully on the thigh. They kissed, a brief touch of the lips and then Brenda crawled to the other side of the lounger and sprawled on her stomach, head cradled on her arms. It wasn’t long before they both looked nearly comatose, though Sharon would occasionally drag a languid hand down the curve of Brenda’s back. However Sharon had gotten those hickeys must have been intense - though he didn’t need to be contemplating other people’s pleasure, not when he was going home to an empty house. Tomás pushed up out of the pool and retrieved a pair of goggles from the weatherproof nook where Sharon kept some spares. He splashed back into the water and began to swim.
When Tomás finished his laps, the ladies were well and truly asleep, and the pale slopes of Sharon’s breasts were beginning to turn a fetching shade of pink. He rolled his eyes and picked up the heavy stand umbrella that lurked next to the fence, positioning it so it cast its shadow on as much of them as possible. Sitting down with a towel on another of Sharon’s plush loungers (the woman really had excellent taste in pool furniture), Tomás intended to dry off and be on his way, but the seductive warmth of the sun drying his hair was too much, and he succumbed to the drowsy mood of the early afternoon.
Brenda Leigh woke with a start, overtaken by a sudden chill. An umbrella was shading the lounger that she and Sharon were resting on. She pushed herself upright, curling her legs beneath her and took a good long look at her lover. She could feel the smile creep over her features at the sight of Sharon, relaxed and gorgeous, a smattering of new freckles strewn across her nose and over the plane of her chest and the curve of her shoulders. She gently shook the brunette awake.
“Shari, rise and shine.” Sharon blinked herself back to awareness and grinned muzzily up at her.
“Hey,” she husked. “How long was I out?”
“Not that long, but long enough to burn a little. We’d better get some aloe on your breasts.” Brenda dropped her eyes to the breasts in question and pressed her lips together, nostrils flaring. Sharon’s nipples puckered under the scrutiny and Brenda’s tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip.
“None of that, Brenda Leigh. We still have company.” Sharon’s tone belied her words, though and Brenda leaned in for a brief kiss. Sharon’s eyes dropped shut and she made a pleased little sound in her throat as their lips came into contact.
“Hypocrite,” Brenda murmured and rose up to her knees, intent on bringing her skin into contact with Sharon’s. Sharon allowed it, even embraced her - bringing her hands around to grasp Brenda’s buttocks - but wouldn’t escalate their kisses past chaste. “I want you,” Brenda whispered into Sharon’s ear, flexing her thigh against Sharon’s cunt. Sharon gasped, and then chuckled.
“You had me this morning - twice,” she husked in a low voice that sent a shiver through Brenda. “And you can have me again later, honey. But first we’re going to be nice to Tomás for a little while.” She patted the blonde on the rear. “Up. I’m going to go get lunch started. Why don’t you wake sleeping beauty.” Brenda pouted fiercely at her but got up, offering a hand to pull Sharon to her feet. Sharon dropped a kiss on her slightly sweaty blonde temple and turned to pad into the house. Brenda watched her go; watched the play of muscles in her back and ass and the contraction and release of her well-defined calves. She licked her lips again; the quicker they ate and Morales left, the quicker she could get Sharon back into bed, or horizontal on any flat surface in the immediate vicinity.
Brenda had stopped being surprised by her continuous and sometimes overwhelming desire for Sharon Raydor after their first night together. The woman was lovely, and Brenda had always noticed her beauty and confidence (sometimes shading to arrogance) in a way that was very sexually charged - even if she fought down her reactions. But since they’d begun sleeping together, it was like someone had flipped a switch in Brenda Leigh. She was ‘ok’ when Sharon wasn’t around; she could function and was productive when Sharon was safely elsewhere, but when the other woman was around, Brenda Leigh existed in a near constant haze of arousal that was only briefly assuaged by their love making.
Take this morning, for example. They had both had long weeks, and last night had passed out a little past 8, after splitting a bottle of wine. Brenda had wanted Sharon - she had wanted very much, especially after Sharon had presented her with her purse, rebuilt and better than before - but she hadn’t asked, because Sharon had been nearly comatose with weariness. So they had fallen asleep twined together, Brenda’s head on Sharon’s chest, letting the metronome of the brunette’s steady, slow heartbeat lull her to into unconsciousness. Brenda woke up a little after 7, refreshed and extraordinarily horny. She had popped out of bed to brush her teeth and relieve herself and popped right back in to bed to perch on Sharon’s naked buttocks, latching like a limpet onto Sharon’s neck with her lips. A thoroughly enjoyable two hours had elapsed, with a pair of orgasms for each of them, before Brenda had allowed them to surface for sunshine and sustenance. The depth of her need would be frightening if it wasn’t so heady and thrilling and enjoyable, and of course accepted and shared by her lover.
Brenda spared a glance at Morales before slipping into the house behind the object of her musings. She was disappointed to find Sharon exiting the laundry room, pulling a plain white t-shirt over her head. Sharon smirked at Brenda’s pouting and pulled her hair out of it’s now lopsided ponytail, smoothing it back into a semblance of order.
“My tits are already burnt, Brenda Leigh. Cooking topless might be tempting fate,” Sharon said, wry humor lacing her tone.
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Brenda sighed theatrically, though she still gazed a little mournfully at the shadows of Sharon’s nipples just visible beneath the thin cotton. “I’ll make sangria to go with lunch. What wine should I use?” Sharon paused to think a moment - the woman had a mental catalogue of every available bottle in her cellar, a fact that amused Brenda to no end. And Sharon Raydor insisted, even when making sangria, that the wine compliment the food they were eating.
“A bottle of the Chamisal 2010 will go nicely with my pesto sauce and the fruit in the sangria. Or two bottles, depending on just how much day drinking you want to do.”
“One bottle sounds just fine,” Brenda sassed and stepped into the enormous pantry. Looking for the correct vintage, she said saucily, “Besides, who needs wine to get drunk when you’re around, Sharon Raydor.”
“Sweet talker,” The grin on Sharon’s face was audible in her voice.
Sharon was still working when Brenda put the effort of her labors in the fridge, sliding the pitcher of fruit, wine and ginger ale into an empty spot on the door. Pasta was boiling, a freezer bag of Sharon’s home made pesto was defrosting in the microwave and Sharon was quartering cherry tomatoes, humming along to the Joan Baez song that drifted in from the outdoor speakers. Brenda edged in behind Sharon to wrap the industrious brunette in her arms. Sharon leaned into her, swaying a little and singing along:
“And only say that you’ll be mine, in no others arms entwine.” Her voice was low and husky; an intriguing counterpoint to Joan’s. Sharon’s hands stilled and her head dropped back onto Brenda’s shoulder. Brenda sighed happily and wormed her fingers up under Sharon’s thin t-shirt - Brenda’s hands belonged on Sharon’s bare skin.
“This has been a good day, even if you are singin’ murder ballads to me. Should I be worried?” Brenda said into Sharon’s exposed ear. Sharon chuckled.
“The chorus is pretty, though. It’s been a good day, even with our coworker wandering into your little topless fantasy?” Sharon felt Brenda shrug.
“He barged in! If he saw somethin’ he didn’t want to see, that’s his problem. Plus, he’s your friend and he missed you.” Brenda nuzzled at the spot behind Sharon’s ear that never failed to make the other woman shiver. She wasn’t disappointed by Sharon’s reaction. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“You can grate some cheese, for the pasta. It’s in the drawer - should be the palest block in there.” Brenda reluctantly released Sharon and went to fish the hunk of Parmesan out of the refrigerator. She set herself at the counter with the grater and a small cutting board. It surprised Brenda how much she enjoyed working in the kitchen with Sharon, who loved to cook, loved good food and good drink, and loved Brenda’s company while she worked, even if the blonde could only help in a limited capacity without supervision. She even seemed to love that Brenda was hopeless with anything more complicated than boiling pasta - which she often under or over cooked. For her part, Brenda loved the closeness they shared when they moved together in the closed space, the expressions Sharon made when something wasn’t properly spiced, or too hot, the strength and adeptness of Sharon’s hands as she cut or mixed or stirred (especially so when she was working with icing), and of course, she loved the finished products, and the woman she shared them with.
Brenda took a firm grip on the wedge of Parmesan and drew it firmly across the grater. And again. And again. A small pile of Parmesan slivers grew on the cutting board. She kept at it, and then realized that she no longer heard the sounds of Sharon’s careful chopping. Brenda looked up; Sharon was staring, sidelong, at her chest, eyes hooded, lips parted.
“What?” Brenda asked, a little mystified as to why Sharon was all of a sudden looking at her like she was a bon bon to be devoured when she had been prancing around topless for a couple of hours now.
“Could you please put on a shirt before I cut off a finger? Please?” Sharon nearly begged. Brenda flushed a little, and could feel her nipples harden. “When you’re doing that,” Sharon waved her knife at the grater and cheese and cutting board in an encompassing sort of gesture, “your breasts move just like they do when I’m fucking you. Hard.”
A flash of heat erupted in Brenda’s belly, and she gulped, throat working against her suddenly dry mouth. She left her station to retrieve a camisole from on top of the dryer. Brenda pulled the tank on and untwisted the straps before returning to her grating.
Sharon paused to look at her again after quartering the last of the tomatoes. “Later I’ll make the wait up to you, Brenda Leigh,” she said.
Brenda chuckled, surprised at the throatiness of the sound coming from her throat. “A little anticipation never hurt anyone, Shari.” She met the other woman’s bright, mossy eyes and grinned. “Like I said, this has been a good day. And it’ll be a better evenin’, I imagine.” Sharon smiled back; the one that painted her whole face over with joy and good feeling. Brenda felt her knees weaken. She was happy the counter was there to hold her up.
Morales was still unconscious in the afternoon sun when Brenda waltzed back onto the deck to wake him. Feeling puckish, she dipped her hand in the pool, and moved swiftly to let the drops fall onto Tomás’s relaxed countenance. His hands flew to his face and he made a startled noise. Brenda snorted. Tomás sat up and scraped his hair back.
“How long did I sleep?” He asked, glancing over at Brenda only briefly.
“Not long enough to miss your AC guy, but long enough for Sharon to cook a late lunch,” Brenda drawled
“That was nice of her. You don’t mind if I stay? I can go home and feed myself.” Brenda looked at the usually self-assured doctor who wouldn’t meet her eyes, and steeled herself to tell a small truth.
“No, I don’t mind. Sharon has friends she hasn’t been seein’ cuz of me, and that’s not the sort of precedent I want to set. I think she’s half ready for me to bolt as soon as the rest of the world starts nosin’ around.” Tomás was startled by the candidness of those few sentences. He looked over at her then, at her face instead of her feet, and he could see that she was attempting to extend a figurative hand in friendship, or at least a mutual fondness for Sharon Raydor.
“It’ll just take time, and a little patience. But you’re well known for your patience, Chief.” She wrinkled her nose at him and got a boyish grin in return. “Sharon’s coming out was hellacious, and cost her a lot, personally and professionally, so she tends to project.”
“Yea, she told me ‘bout that. I’m not that worried about it - me, comin’ out, that is.” Brenda said steadily, and she was proud to find she actually believed it. “I’m more prone to freakin’ out after the fact, anyways. I’m mostly concerned with makin’ sure she and I are in a good place before we tackle our bosses and my parents. Hence, lunch. Come on, I made sangria.”
Sharon sent Tomás on his way with a small container of leftovers about an hour later. The particular genius of the pesto pasta dish she’d made was that it was just as delicious cold as it was warm. She padded back into the kitchen where Brenda Leigh was busy loading the dishwasher. She was moving with quick efficiency - the bowl of pasta was covered with plastic wrap, waiting to go into the refrigerator, the pot and grater were clean and in the dish drain, and Brenda was dropping the silverware into the appropriate holders. Brenda closed and latched the dishwasher and turned to Sharon with a smile.
“Alllllll done,” she drawled, picking up the bowl of food and opening the refrigerator door. She deposited it there with aplomb and turned to slink herself into Sharon’s arms, chin tilted up for a kiss. Sharon was happy to oblige her, despite the fact that they both tasted of basil and garlic and parmesan cheese.
“Thank you for indulging Tomás today, Brenda Leigh,” Sharon murmured against Brenda’s temple when they broke apart. Brenda pulled away and brought a hand up to cup Sharon’s cheek, trailing a thumb across the few new freckles on the brunette’s cheekbone.
“Shari, baby, as much as I love havin’ you all to myself, you should spend time with your friends. If you want to include me, I’m happy to meet them.” Brenda’s voice was soft, and she dropped a kiss just at the edge of Sharon’s lips. “I want you to be happy, and I don’t want any of the important people in your life to resent me for monopolizin’ all your time.”
“I am happy,” Sharon asserted, hoping that Brenda could see the truth of it in her eyes. “Very happy, but I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, or like I was blowing you off.”
“Worst case scenario, your friends and I only have one thing in common: a mutual appreciation of you. Best case, I’ll make some new friends, too. I am warnin’ you, though, I tend to be sort of awful at socializin’ and what not.”
“I don’t know about that, honey. You managed to thoroughly charm Tomás - he walked out the door liking you much more than when he came in the back gate.”
“I would say it was the boobs, but we both know that isn’t the case,” Brenda said in an arch tone. Sharon barked out a laugh.
“You could definitely influence my friends Lynn and Denise in your favor with your boobs,” Sharon suggested impishly.
“Denise is the one that runs the shelter you volunteer at? And Lynn is?”
“Lynn is her wife. She’s a television studio executive.”
“Well, I’ll just have to be extra nice to them, cuz the only person I want to influence with my breasts is you,” Brenda retorted.
“Is that so? In which ways would you want to influence me - nothing untoward, I’m sure!”
“Mmmm, I’m hoping to influence you right onto a horizontal surface, or maybe up against a vertical one.” Brenda pushed the straps of her tank top off her shoulders.
“Why Ms. Johnson, I do believe you are attempting to entice me into a sexual liaison!” Sharon drawled, and then yanked Brenda’s shirt down from the waist. Brenda snorted and then snarked:
“Why don’t you leave the southern belle routine to me, baby.” Sharon ignored the jab and captured Brenda’s lips in a hungry kiss, fingers sneaking beneath the elastic at the low waist of Brenda’s swimsuit bottoms, pulling them into firmer contact. Brenda moaned, and Sharon drew the blonde’s generous lower lip out with her teeth. Sharon kissed gently along Brenda’s jaw, and down the sensitive tendon parallel to her jugular. Then she stopped.
“Nuh,” was the small, bereft noise Brenda made.
“You taste like sunscreen,” Sharon said, working her tongue against the roof of her mouth, trying to clear the taste. Brenda grumbled, then took a swipe at Sharon’s neck with her tongue.
“You too,” she groused. Then she tucked her face into Sharon’s neck. “Smell like it too.”
“Shower?” Sharon queried. She felt Brenda nod.
Sharon took Brenda’s hand and led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She could feel Brenda’s eyes burning a blazing trail up her calves and onto her ass. Sharon gave the muscles in each extra play as she paced slowly up the stairs, for the blonde’s viewing pleasure. She was gratified when she heard Brenda exhale loudly through her nose.
Sharon’s bathroom was spacious - she’d cannibalized part of the largest of her spare bedrooms in order to expand the master bath and build a walk-in closet. The counters and shower were constructed from dark chocolate granite, speckled with a taupe that was picked out by the color of the walls. The wood of the double vanity, built in storage and mirror bezel was dark walnut. Warm yellow incandescent light gleamed dully off the brass fixtures. Sharon turned on the shower, and before she could lean back out of the enclosure, she felt Brenda’s fingers on the hem of her t-shirt. She lifted her arms and allowed the blonde to pull the shirt over her head. Brenda crowded her into the shower and under the warm stream of water. Like Sharon, she was clad only in her bathing suit bottom. The blonde rolled the scrap of lycra off her hips and kicked it into the corner, where it landed with a wet smack. Then her fingers were scrabbling frantically at Sharon’s hips, failing to find purchase on the wet skin and slick fabric.
“Off, off,” she growled, and Sharon hooked her thumbs into the offending garment and pushed it down to her ankles. Brenda scratched her fingers through the coarse, neatly trimmed hair at Sharon’s apex, and then cupped her, purring in satisfaction, like the eventual orgasms were secondary to being physically close to Sharon. Sharon shivered and spread her legs to allow the blonde better access. She was still - a hand cradling Sharon’s sex, the other on the middle of her back, holding Sharon tight. Her was face pressed into Sharon’s neck, an action that was quickly becoming habitual.
“How’s your sunburn?”
“I don’t think I was burnt, really. I’ve got more freckles, though.”
“Good. I like freckles,” Brenda said definitively, and Sharon believed that she did. Her lips started moving against Sharon’s neck, no longer forming words.
“Is the sunscreen taste gone, honey?” Sharon asked as Brenda’s teeth scraped over the slanting muscle that attached her neck to her shoulders.
“Uh huh.” Brenda mumbled, then nibbled along the tensed muscle. “I don’t think it was waterproof.” Her tongue and lips soothed were her teeth had been, and Sharon’s head dropped back with a groan. Brenda tugged Sharon back by the hips and sat herself on the built in bench, and turned her attentions to Sharon’s breasts. She pressed open mouthed kisses to the freckles that trailed down into the valley of Sharon’s sternum, and gently tongued the diffuse purplish mark she’d left on Sharon’s skin earlier that morning. Brenda’s wicked tongue traced around a nipple, flicking at the stiffened tip and then drawing the nipple and a large part of the soft flesh into her mouth. Sharon’s hips shot forward when slick fingers pinched at her other nipple.
“Oh,” Brenda cooed after detaching her mouth from Sharon’s skin with a moist pop. “Oh, I’m gonna take care of you, baby.” She bent and kissed the soft slope of Sharon’s belly, dragged her tongue from Sharon’s pubic line to dip into her navel. Sharon shivered. Her Brenda Leigh approached oral with the same relentlessness she employed in her interview room, but Sharon wanted to try something a little different today - after Brenda used her mouth on Sharon, Sharon almost invariably had to recuperate for a bit, and that wasn’t what Sharon wanted in this particular situation.
Sharon stepped back, using pressure on Brenda’s shoulders to indicate she wanted the blonde to come with her. She knelt, and pulled Brenda down with her.
“What’re you up to?” Brenda asked with a quizzical arch of her eyebrow.
“Patience,” Sharon intoned and sat back, she slid her hips forward, encouraging Brenda to straddle them. When she was reclining on her back, she instructed Brenda to turn around. When Brenda scooted back and lowered her hips to Sharon’s mouth, she knew that the blonde had figured out what Sharon was trying to organize.
“Bend your knees,” Brenda said, but paused before getting back to what she had begun. “Are you sure you want to try this for the first time in the shower?”
Sharon licked her lips and ran her hands up the back of Brenda’s thighs to dip a few fingers into the moisture that had collected between the dusky pink lips of Brenda’s sex.
“So long as I don’t stop the drain up with my ass, we shouldn’t drown.” Brenda giggled then leaned in to drag the tip of her tongue up the hood of Sharon’s clit. Sharon moaned, then wrapped an arm around Brenda’s slim hips and pulled her down so her lower body was resting on Sharon’s chest.
With her face buried in Brenda Leigh, Sharon decided she liked this upside down position. The smell and taste of her surrounded Sharon, and the weight of her was a pleasantly confining presence on Sharon’s chest. Brenda’s attentions to her clit made Sharon gasp. Then she coughed. And coughed again.
“What’sa matter?” Brenda’s voice was muffled, but echoed strangely against the granite floor of the shower.
“Inhaled some water,” Sharon choked out between coughs. Brenda huffed, and Sharon knew that her eyes had to be rolling something fierce. Brenda sat up, perched backwards on Sharon’s midsection.
“You have the worst ideas, Sharon Raydor,” Brenda snarked firmly. “I coulda been suckin’ you off, but you had to get clever, in the shower of all places, and now you’re gonna end up with pneumonia from a sex-related mishap.” She pushed herself up and plopped herself back on the shower bench. “We might as well wash up and take this out to the bed.” She prodded Sharon, still supine on the floor, with a gentle, but insistent foot. Sharon was still too busy trying to catch her breath to laugh, but she really wanted to.
Once they had adjourned to the bedroom and the bed, skin dried, hair still damp, Sharon yanked Brenda down on top of her for a kiss, wanting to feel her lover’s weight anchoring her to the bed. Brenda slipped a leg between hers and skidded the moist heat of her sex along the smooth muscle of Sharon’s thigh. Brenda sighed into Sharon’s mouth and began to move, making little sounds of need and pleasure against Sharon’s lips.
Sharon cocked a leg over Brenda’s thigh, pulling them even closer, and increasing the contact to her clitoris. Brenda groaned and dropped her head back, the movement dragging her stiff nipples against the soft undersides of Sharon’s breasts.
They rocked together slowly, reveling in the simple intimacy of it, the pleasure a natural extension of their physical closeness. They didn’t kiss: their foreheads bumped together softly and stayed, Brenda gazed down at Sharon through hooded eyes, breathing in the air expelled from Sharon’s lungs. Brenda sped her hips, increasing the friction for both of them, and Sharon arched into her and set her own counter-rhythm. A few more strokes, and they fell over the edge, together.
“Ooooooh,” Brenda exhaled into Sharon’s ear, unaware of the mute cry issuing from Sharon’s slack mouth. The smaller woman collapsed onto Sharon, peppering her neck and jaw with kisses before returning her lips to Sharon’s. Wanting to keep Brenda Leigh close, Sharon wrapped arms and legs around the warm, slender body of her lover. Brenda burrowed her face into Sharon’s partially dried hair, practically boneless in her relaxation.
“I love you too, Shari,” Brenda mumbled into Sharon’s neck.