Priče

Sve što je vrijedno čitanja, gledanja i slušanja podijelite s nama ili pak iznesite svoje žestoke kritike istog.
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Afrodita
Postovi: 4523
Pridružen/a: 23 srp 2011 11:44
Spol/rod: žensko
Ja sam: lezbijka
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Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 31 srp 2012 22:43

Prije par godina naletjela sam na super stranicu sa brojnim lezbijskim pričama. Priče su različite tematike - SF, ljubići, krimići,horori, erotika - napisane od strane poznatih i manje poznatih autorica. Priče su na engleskom jeziku. Ako vi znate neke slične stranice stavite linkove. Možda znate neke stranice gdje su priče objavljene na hrvatskom jeziku ili gdje bi mogli pronaći priče nekih hrvatskih autorica....a možda i vi pišete neke kratke priče ..zašto ih ne objaviti ovdje....

http://www.google.hr/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=& ... 2zwKSkY-SQ
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

Avatar
Afrodita
Postovi: 4523
Pridružen/a: 23 srp 2011 11:44
Spol/rod: žensko
Ja sam: lezbijka
Status: U vezi
Lokacija: Karlovac

Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 02 kol 2012 20:08

Jedna od poznatijih autorica A. Valdivia (Ali Vali).

~ How Do You Mend A Broken Heart ~
by Ali Vali

Chapter 1

The old metal doors leading into the emergency room at Charity Hospital in New Orleans slammed open letting in the rushing EMTs. On the gurney lay a small blond woman with a grotesquely mangled leg. The bone fracture was so severe it had pierced the skin just below the knee causing the white sheet on the gurney to soak through with blood coming from the wound. As the pain intensified it was the patient who turned a sickly shade of white indicating shock wasn't too far behind.

"Sally, get a doc in here stat, we didn't want to medicate her figuring she was going be worked up for surgery, but she's fading on us fast." David, the short redheaded EMT ran along side the gurney with an IV bag held as high as he could get it, following the nurse he'd addressed into the first available examination room. He'd worked for the ambulance service for over five years and witnessed some horrific things, but this would be a case that would stick with him for a while.

It had taken them twice the time to get to the hospital, having to wait outside the small shotgun house at the cusp of an undesirable neighborhood until the police could subdue the young woman's husband before they were permitted to go in to retrieve her. David would never forget the bloody baseball bat lying next to the moaning woman, knowing it was what the son of a bitch had used on his wife's leg.

"We're in luck, Davie, God just finished up in the OR and should be able to descend from on high. I just paged her when y'all called in from down the street," said Sally, trying her best to sooth the patient until Dr. Harry Basantes was available to come down and see her. The young woman reminded her of her own daughter, and she thought if something had happened to Mindy, Dr. Basantes would be the only person she would want to fix the problem.

Not yet thirty-five, Harry was regarded as a prodigy in orthopedic surgery. Many local athletes from high school to the professional ranks had her to thank for their continued careers. The head of orthopedic surgery at "Big Charity" as it was referred to in New Orleans, Dr. Basantes also taught at the LSU Medical School located next to the hospital. Between her responsibilities at this hospital, the medical school, and her own private practice, she had little time for a social life, but had skills very few could rival.

Walking up behind Sally, with a group of students trailing behind her, Harry bent down and whispered in the nurse's ear, "Taking my name in vain again I see, Nurse Hardass?" The low sexy voice sent a thrill down Sally's back, and she was sure that if there were fewer years between their ages she would have made a play for the young doctor by now.

"Doc, I was comparing you to God, how can you take that the wrong way?" She turned around and gave Harry her best smile. Sally was one of the only people in the big building who could give her such a hard time and not get pulverized by the equally famous Basantes temper.

"Uh huh, let's see what we have here." She stepped around the portly nurse, but not before she slapped Sally on the butt.

Not looking at the patient's face first, Basantes' attention went immediately to the injury. She let the noise and chaos of the emergency room fall away, her concentration fully on what it would take to fix the problem. Barking out orders for x-rays to be taken and other blood work to be done, the doctor finally moved up to address her new patient. When she looked into the tear stained face and watery green eyes, memories of high school flooded her brain and Harry had to clutch the side of the gurney in shock not to fall over.

"Desi? Sweetheart, is it you?"

"Harry? What are you doing here?" She wiped her face as surprise replaced the pain if only for a second. This would have to be the most humiliating day of her life, injury aside.

"I'm here to fix your boo boo as you used to refer to them. You have a severe fracture just below the knee from what I can tell, and it'll require surgery. A couple of pins and you should be good to go. Sally is going to give you a shot for the pain and once I get a look at your pictures we'll head into the operating room." Harry smiled at her before turning her attention to the chart Sally had handed her. With handwriting only a few understood, Harry started writing down all the orders she had just issued verbally.

"You're a surgeon?"

"No, I'm actually the janitor, but we're a little short handed at the moment so the state expects everyone to pull their weight." When she was done teasing she looked at her with a sincere and open expression. "Look, if you want someone else to do the procedure, it won't hurt my feelings, so just think about it. I'll be back as soon as your x-rays are back, okay?"

Not giving Desi a chance to respond, Harry moved away from the gurney running her hand through her hair. It was a nervous habit she'd had ever since she was a child and one that hadn't made an appearance in years. She moved to the nurse's station to finish filling out the orders in the chart and to put some distance between them. The emotions from seeing Desi again made Harry think that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let someone else do the surgery. They had a history she had tried to bury in the deepest recesses of her heart.

"But damn if I don't find at least a minute of everyday to think about you, Desi. I wonder if you've given me a second thought since those caps went flying into the air at graduation?" The sentiment was whispered under Harry's breath causing one of the admit nurses to stare at her with an arched brow.

Back in the examination room, Sally and the EMTs very carefully lifted Desi from the gurney and onto the exam table. Sally draped a clean sheet over her chest to keep her warm and lifted the IV pole to the right height. While most patients watched Sally intently when she was in the exam rooms to see what was happening with their care, Desi kept her focus in the direction Harry had walked off in.

"You know, the decision is up to you," said Sally as she stuck a syringe in the IV unit. "And granted, there's a lot of good doctors in the building, but none of them are Dr. Basantes. If she's offering, don't turn her down."

The adamant defense caused Desi to cry harder. Before she could move and cause more damage, Sally finished with what she had to do and reached over to run her hand over Desi's fair hair. She continued the comfort even after the medication had taken affect and her breathing had evened out. The only trace she was still upset were the fat tears that still fell in silence down the beautiful face.

Lost in her thoughts, Harry didn't notice Kenneth Reynolds walk up and stand beside her. One of the few people she did keep in touch with from her childhood was her best friend and also the head of pediatrics at the hospital. The nurses referred to them as the dynamic duo, at first wondering if there was a romance to go with the friendship that they obviously shared.

"It's not often that we see the Goddess of Bones down in the ER. What gives, Harrietta?" He leaned against the counter next to her and drummed his fingers on the old Formica counter top.

"Don't call me that, Kenneth, or I'll share with Sally what Tony calls you when you're at home. Got me, sugar pants?" Harry never peered up from the chart she was writing in as she gave as good as she got.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry it's just been a long day and I felt like teasing you a little." He put his hands up in surrender and laughed. "Does someone have their leg coming out of their ass or something? It'd take something that drastic to lure you down here with the little people." He stood against the counter waiting to see what was wrong with his old friend. The first thing he had noticed when he stepped off the old elevator was Harry running her hand through her hair. It wasn't often the confident surgeon messed up those dark curly locks. Something had set her off and he was there to see if he could help with whatever it was.

"Did you learn that diagnosis technique in medical school?" Harry finally turner her blue eyes his was as she handed the chart off to the waiting nurse. "Ken, you wouldn't believe who's lying behind curtain number three." She made another swipe through the dark hair.

"Do I win a new washing machine if I guess right? Tony informed me old Betsy is about to call it quits. I've had that washer since we were in college," his tone was wistful, momentarily forgetting what they were talking about.

"If I bought you a new washer would you shut up?"

"Sorry. Who, Dr. Harry, is behind curtain number three? I've got no clue, and I'm horrible with guessing games so you're going to have to give in and tell me." He turned his full attention back on her and gave her an indulgent smile, maybe whoever was behind the curtain was the reason for Harry's demeanor.

"Desi Thompson. Can you believe of all the hospitals in the world, she had to walk into mine? Well technically she was wheeled in but it still doesn't change the fact that she's here and needs a surgeon." That she was now rambling was a clue as to just upset she was.

"She's in luck then, don't you think? You're a surgeon after all. Unless you forgot to pay the club dues and they've taken away your key and special decoder ring. By the way, did you sing the song 'A Kiss is Just a Kiss' when you first saw her, or are you waiting for the post op to do that?" For a brief second Kenneth thought about driving home and picking up his partner Tony. He was much better equipped to deal with old emotional baggage like this, while runny noses and nasty scrapes suffered on the playground were more his forte.

"You do realize, smart ass, that I'm bigger than you, thus I can deliver the leg out your ass thing?" She was now tapping the counter with her pen, letting Kenneth know seeing Desi again was driving Harry to distraction. He didn't think Harry even realized she was displaying every one of her nervous ticks.

"Sorry, pal, just go in there and do your job. After you're done, I'll take you home and treat you to a home cooked meal. You know Tony's red fish stew is to die for and he's been chopping stuff since early this morning. The man can't find a job but is a wizard in the kitchen. Just pretend she's one of the hundreds of nameless faces who walks in here everyday and put those memories of yours back in the box." Just as he finished, another patient with an ear hanging on by just a small piece of cartilage was wheeled into the bay next to Desi's. "See, just another typical day in the ER in the great city of New Orleans," finished Kenneth with a slap to her back. "Just do your job, Harry, and the rest will stay buried if you let it."

"That, buddy, is easier said than done."

"True, but most people don't have Tony and me to help them through it. And we'll be there for you no matter what you decide."

"Doc, your pictures are back," Sally called from the curtained partition. She waved the large yellow envelope in the air and motioned for Harry to come back. Slapping Ken back a little harder than she meant, Harry promised to meet him for dinner. With a sigh, she walked back to the girl who had walked out on her so many years before.

"Harry, hurry up or we'll be late for class. I'm not sure why you need to go to class, you know more about algebra than Mr. Boswell. You have to promise me you'll come over this afternoon and help me with this stuff. If I flunk this class I won't be able to go off to college with you. And if that happens, who's going to take care of you?" asked Desi. She was walking down the hall backwards so she could keep up her conversation with Harry. It was getting harder to talk to Harry without getting lost in those incredible blue eyes and dark hair, so Desi tried to face her in any dialog they exchanged.

Strolling behind Desi and laughing at all her fussing was Harry. They had met in grade school when Harry had transferred from one of the private schools in town. Harry's parents had moved into a different school district just before summer, giving them no choice but to change where Harry and her brother went to school. The tall personable girl had spent the summer making friends with some of the neighborhood kids, all of who attended the local public school. Begging her parents, Harry talked them into letting her attend the school her new friends did.

As she was getting into her mother's car on the first day of fourth grade, Harry noticed some of the older kids picking on two small blondes standing in line for the bus. After briefly listening to cruel comments about their worn clothes, plain shoes and patched school bags, Harry excused herself from her mother and came to their rescue. Standing between the bullies and the girls, she offered them a ride.

"My mom won't mind so come on. You two don't want to be late on the first day do you?" She held out her hand and Desi had looked at it for a second before accepting it.

That had been the beginning of a friendship that would take them through high school. Unlike those kids at the bus stop that first day, Harry never noticed Desi's second hand clothes or the shoes with holes in the soles. Her parents never said anything when Desi would come to their house to spend the weekend and eat them out of a week's supply of groceries. The fact that she made Harry so happy was good enough for them.

"Time enough to think about that later. Now let's just do what Ken said and get the hell out of here," Harry mumbled to herself as she walked to the exam space Desi was in.

Firing up the light boxes attached to the wall Harry explained what needed to be done to fix Desi's leg to her as well as the students who were observing. The pain medication now flowed freely through her veins so Desi was able to follow what Harry was saying and study her without her noticing.

During the explanation Desi couldn't help but notice that time had been good to Harry. She was good looking in school but now her features were more refined and the tall lanky body had filled out leaving a strong confident woman standing before her. For all the things that had changed though, some things about Harry were still the same. Like the fact she talked with her hands and when she was finished explaining something, you understood the problem at hand as well as her well thought out solution.

"Do you have any questions, Desi?" Seeing her friend shake her head Harry continued, "Would you like for me to call one of my associates to do this for you? Don't worry about hurting my feelings, I just want you to be comfortable with your care." The only response Harry got was the tears rolling down Desi's face again.

Sally directed everyone to the other side of the curtain so Harry could have a moment with Desi before heading upstairs. She had known Harry since she was a resident tearing up these same halls, and Sally knew she was a sucker for a crying woman.

The second Sally closed the curtain behind her, leaving them as much privacy as possible, Harry leaned down and took Desi's hand into hers. All of Kenneth's warnings flew out of her head the second the glassy green eyes connected with hers. "Sweetheart, don't cry. It's going to be all right, I promise. After some rehab you won't even remember you got hurt, and I'll take extra care in my stitching so you'll still look good in a bathing suit." That made Desi smile up at her. It was like a fantasy to feel Desi's hand in hers again; the dreams she had didn't compare.

"I don't want anyone else, Harry. Please don't leave me alone now." Desi pulled her closer with the little strength she could muster. "I don't have any right to ask you, but please don't leave me alone."

"I promised you a long time ago that I'd take care of you and I never break a promise, so don't worry. You won't be alone in this, I'll take care of everything." With a slow and gentle hand, Harry wiped away the tears that had fallen down her before moving to put her arm around Desi."

"I've missed you, Harry. I'm sorry I never wrote or called you. I never stopped thinking about you. I've always wondered what you had gotten into so it's good to know you've done so well." Desi greedily soaked up the comfort Harry was offering. It felt wonderful to be back in the arms that had given her so much comfort in the first part of her life. After Harry left, Desi never felt safe or cherished, and it had made for a very lonely existence.

"Don't worry about that now. I need you to relax and let the medicine take affect. You rest and I'm going to take care of you." In an old reflex, Harry kissed the top of the blond head. "And I'll be there holding your hand when you wake up. You're not alone in this and I promise I'll take care of you."

"Do you want something to drink, Harry? We have water or water," called Desi from the kitchen. Looking out at the front porch where Harry was stretched out, she fantasized about what else they could be doing instead of studying for finals. There was something about the way Harry looked at her that made her stomach do funny things.

"I think I'll take water, if you have it," called Harry from the front of the house. "Hey, Mr. Thompson, how's it going?" Harry asked Desi father Clyde who was walking up from the bus stop.

"Okay, Harry, just going to take a siesta before my next job. Studying for something with all those books out?" He pointed to the stack sitting next to her.

"Trying to teach Desi word problems in math, sir. Should make for a long afternoon. Would you mind if I took her and Rachel out for a burger later?"

"Nah, just have them back early, it's a school night."

"You got it, Mr. T, thanks."

They sat on the swing, shoulder to shoulder, for the rest of the afternoon while Harry patiently explained the concepts Desi needed to solve the problems. When Desi's younger sister Rachel got home, Harry took them both to dinner. Dining on hamburgers and baked potatoes that were a specialty at the French Quarter restaurant Port of Call, the girls enjoyed each other's company like they had on many previous nights. It bothered them at times to let Harry pay their way for all the fun extras in their life, but their big guardian angel loved to look after them.

Harry's father was a surgeon at one of the local hospitals. Though a foreigner with a thick Spanish accent, Raul was loved by all the patients he came into contact with. The generous man had on many occasions waived his fees when a family that couldn't afford the medical treatment that had brought them to the hospital found themselves under his care. Many times Raul came home with a payment of an ice chest of shrimp or other food item for a favor he had done for someone. With her dark curly hair, brilliant blue eyes and powerful build, Harry had inherited not only her father's good looks but also his gentle nature.

"Harry, have I ever told you how happy I am that you came to our rescue all those years ago?" asked Rachel as she popped the last of her burger in her mouth. They were sitting in the corner table of the small restaurant with Harry and Desi sitting close enough that their thighs were touching.

"No, squirt, but I'm glad you're glad. You two finish up, I promised your father I'd have you home early." Harry paid their bill and piled them into the small car her father had bought her at the beginning of their junior year.

It was a two-seater that Harry loved to drive, especially when Rachel came along. That meant Desi would have to sit practically on her lap for the duration of the ride. Desi took those opportunities to lay her head on Harry's shoulder and pretend they were coming home from a date. As strongly as they felt for one another, they were afraid to voice their feelings.

Taking care of her throughout the beginning of Desi's life had been a labor of love for Harry and something Desi missed more than anything. It was almost unbelievable that it would be where Harry would pick up when they saw each other again, or even that she would even consider taking care of her again.

The reality of the situation wasn't lost on Desi as she stared up into the bright lights of the operating theater. She wondered if anyone had told Harry how it was she came to be there, and if Harry would even care after so much time. One of the nurses came over and started prepping her leg for surgery. She checked Desi's IV and started talking to a young man in a booth on the left side of the room.

"What do you think the doc's in the mood for today, Sam?" asked Tyler.

"She's scrubbing up so why don't you wait and ask her when she finishes up. Are you feeling any pain, ma'am?" Sam directed her question to Desi.

"No, whatever they put in that drip sure did the trick. Have you worked with Dr. Basantes for a long time?" Desi rolled her head trying to keep up with her movements around the room.

"For a couple of years now, honey, so don't you worry. You're in the best of hands. They don't call her the Goddess of the Bones for nothing. Just relax and when you wake up you'll be good as new."

Desi was about to rephrase her question so she could learn more about Harry's life, when the object of her curiosity backed into the room with her hands held out in front of her. "Crank it up, Tyler, let's go," Harry called out to the boy in the booth.

"What do you want to hear, boss?"

"I seem to remember Miss Thompson liked the Go Gos way back when, so cue it up, my man." Harry requested as she moved over to Desi.

Tyler was there to witness her work in the OR as many times as he could. Having met the charismatic Harry the previous year at a gathering put together by the city to match up professionals with kids from the inner city, he had begun to hang around the hospital eventually getting a part time job working for her. The boy's dream was to one day work along side the surgeon who had given flight to his dreams by being his tutor when her schedule allowed. When it didn't, she had one of the residents sit with Tyler and help with his schoolwork.

The nurse continued putting out all of the equipment Harry would need as Harry bent down and started speaking softly into her ear. "Okay, sweetheart, I want you to take slow deep breaths and let the medicine do its job. Hopefully we'll be out of here in less than three hours if we don't find any more damage in there once we go in. I promise it'll be all right, so just relax." Harry's voice was getting softer and softer as the anesthesia started to work its way through Desi's system. The last things Desi remembered were the sound of that deep voice next to her ear, and the all girl band singing in the background.

"Doc, there's a detective here to see you from the NOPD once we finish up. Said he'd wait," Sam told her as she got into position to start handing over instruments.

"What'd you do now, Sammy girl?" teased Harry.

"Cut the wise comments, comedian, it's about her and her injuries," she pointed to Desi.

"I never did ask her how she got here. Was it a car accident?" asked Harry as she got into position.

"I think a car wreck would be less traumatic to recover from in the long run. This was no accident, her husband did this to her with a baseball bat, that's what David told Sally down in the ER." A shiver went through Sam's body as she thought of someone coming after her with a bat. "Isn't that just horrific?"

Harry had to take a minute to fight back her anger when she heard that. In her mind Desi would always remain the sweet innocent girl from high school, not someone's punching bag. "What happened to you, Desi, and why didn't you come to me for help?" Sam heard the question but she held the scalpel out for her boss and kept her comments to herself.

The surgery went smoothly and Harry was pleased that there wasn't as much ligament damage as she first suspected. She felt comfortable with the first diagnosis she had given Desi, in that with physical therapy, she would heal nicely. Washing up, she stepped into the waiting room to talk with the officer who had waited patiently during the two and a half-hour surgery.

"Dr. Basantes?" asked the short blond man. If Harry had to guess by looking at his clothes, the guy had spent his time sleeping in one of the plastic chairs while waiting.

"Yes, and you are?"

"Detective Roger Landry of the New Orleans police department, ma'am. I know you've had a long day but I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Desiree Simoneaux?" He stood and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his jacket.

"Simoneaux," Harry said the name slowly and softly as if trying to retrieve it from the recess of her mind. Of course Sammy had just told her there was a husband and Desi would have taken his name.

"Doc?"

"Sorry, ask away, detective, I don't know what I can tell you, but I'm game." He went on for about fifteen minutes and asked about the extent of Desi's injuries and about security measures at the hospital. It was a given that Byron Simoneaux, Desi's husband, would be out on bond before the night was over and the rumpled detective wanted to make sure Desi would be all right. The last thing she deserved was for the asshole to come and finish the job once he was out of jail.

"She's married to Byron Simoneaux? The guy whose dad owns the old mechanic shop and gas station?"

He arched a brow at how incredulous Harry sounded. "Sounds like you're familiar with him."

"Not really, just a name and face from a very distant past." Harry exhaled deeply and ran her hand through her hair. "I'm just surprised that's who Desi ended up with. I never realized they were close."

"I'm sure given their history together, if she had a do over, she would've made different choices. But tonight's reality is what we have to deal with. From what I know about this guy, when he gets out, probably tonight, he's going to come looking for her. An apology veiled with threats is what I predict for Desi's future if he finds her. That is if he doesn't stop at a local waterhole before he gets here. If that happens it's anybody's guess, you know?"

"Tell you what, Detective Landry, why don't I have Desi moved to another hospital once she's out of recovery? I'll have one of the services move her over to Mercy and into a private room. Don't worry about security, I'll take care of that myself. Once she's conscious tomorrow you can come by and talk with her. I don't know how these things work so I'll leave that part up to you." She ran her hand through her hair again then noticed that she was doing it, looking at her hand like it had somehow betrayed her usual cool façade.

"Thanks, doc, I'll see you both tomorrow. It's a shame what that asshole did to her. The boys in the precinct tell me it wasn't the first time, but she never wanted to press charges no matter how many trips they had to make out there." He handed her his card and shook her hand. "This time I'm hoping she'll think before just giving him a free pass, or there might not be a next time."

"Is there someone we should contact before we head out? I knew Desi in high school and she lived with her father and sister then, have they been contacted?"

"I'll check into it and let you know tomorrow," He pocketed his small notebook and turned to make his departure. "Thanks for everything, Dr. Basantes. I'm sure it was a comfort to Mrs. Simoneaux to see a friendly face tonight. It's going to help put this nightmare behind her."

Calling Kenneth's house and talking to his lover Tony, Harry explained what was going on and that she was moving Desi to another hospital. It would make it more convenient for her during Desi's convalescence to have her at Mercy Hospital, since Harry's house was so close.

"Do you want Kenny to meet you over there? He called a few minutes ago and said he's on his way home. I could get him to take a detour," said Tony.

"Nah, don't bother. I'm sure the big guy wants to get home after wiping snotty noses all day. Sorry about dinner, I'll call you guys tomorrow," Harry finished the conversation by snapping the small phone in her hand shut. Desi was resting in recovery so she found a chair to sit by her bed. The minute it was safe to move her patient they would be heading uptown.

Long moments passed without an answer so Harry thought Desi had fallen asleep because of the motion of the swing. They had just returned from dinner where the conversation had centered around their future and Harry's leaving for college soon. It was the crying that made Harry wrap her arms tighter around her in comfort. "Tell me what's wrong, Desi?"

"You're going away and you'll probably forget me. I just don't know what my life is going to be like without you here."

"I told you that you're welcome to come with me. It's just Baton Rouge, so you'll be close to your family. I could get a part time job and help you through school if that's what you're worried about."

They sat there in silence again except for the symphony of crickets coming from the garden. "Daddy would never let me do that. He needs help with Rachel and the house. I can't just run out on him. Without me here Rachel will be all alone, and…" There was a feeling of depression running through her as she clung to Harry.

As much as she trusted Harry, she couldn't bring herself to voice her fears about leaving her sister alone with their father. Clyde was a man who had grown angrier through the years and Desi didn't want to add to that, especially if her sister would bear the brunt of that decision. The desire to give into what Desi knew were selfish dreams was strong but she couldn't bring herself to commit and abandon her sister.

"Okay how about this?" Harry knew not to push - not yet anyway. "Rachel is only a year behind us, so for the next year you work and save your money, and I'll do the same. After that you both move in with me and we get you started on that nursing career you talked about, and we'll both help get Rachel started on what she wants to do. I love you, Desi, and I don't want to lose you either." It was a risk, finally admitting how she felt, but Harry couldn't leave and not tell her. Not seeing her everyday was eating away at her and maybe this would give her hope that Desi would someday join her.

"I love you too, I have for so long." Desi's tears dried after finally voicing her secret and finding the courage to seal it with a kiss. She was thrilled when it was returned with the passion she had only dreamt about.

For the next three weeks, the two made plans for the next year, and for all the ones to follow. While they waited for Rachel to graduate they would have to live for long weekends and school breaks at Louisiana State University, which is where Harry had decided to go. Despite her father's money, Harry was going on both athletic and scholastic scholarships. She was as good on the softball field as she was at solving math problems and had been heavily recruited by the state institution.

On their last night together they sat on their swing holding on to each other. The touches and kisses had gotten a bit more heated over the last three weeks, and Harry was trying to memorize the taste of Desi's mouth. They never saw the man standing under the street lamp on the corner watching them. For the first time since anyone he worked for could remember, Clyde Thompson had gotten sick and had to go home early.

"Harry?" rasped Desi. She tried to lift her head and was confused as to where she was. She remembered being held by Harry and then total blackness.

"Try not to talk, " said Harry with a comforting voice from the chair next to her bed. The twitching of Desi's fingers woke Harry up from the deep sleep she had been enjoying. "Just relax and lay still."

After giving Desi a few chips of ice to sooth her throat and checking all her vitals, Harry called David in to get her loaded. After working at the hospital together for years, the EMT and Harry had gotten to be friends, so she didn't hesitate to call his service and have him waiting outside.

"Where are we going?" asked Desi.

"I'm going to move you to Mercy and into a private room. Charity is where you want to come to get your surgery, but not the best place to heal up. Don't get me wrong, the staff is excellent, but I just thought you might be more comfortable uptown. Ready, on two," said Harry as she grabbed on end of the sheet Desi was lying on. "Try to not hit any bumps and jar her leg, David. You wouldn't want to mess up my beautiful work." Following the gurney to the ER entrance, Harry called ahead to Mercy and asked one of the night nurses to get a traction setup ready for their arrival.

"Harry, I don't have the greatest medical insurance in the world so maybe it would be best if you left me here," Desi told her as she motioned for more ice.

"You can cook me dinner once you're back on your feet. I'm taking care of this so just sit back and enjoy the ride. David, hit one pothole and I'm going to come up there and rip your tongue out." The order was yelled through the small partition as David's partner secured the back doors after loading up.

"How about if I just try and hit all the potholes instead of trying to find a piece of paved street? It'd be easier on all of us." He looked back at them from the front cab and bit back a laugh at the glare he was receiving.

"How about I go up there and kick your ass?" retorted Harry as she tried to fold her long frame into the cramped space of the ambulance in an effort to get comfortable.

"How about I go nice and slow?"

They drove off the emergency room ramp having to maneuver around the dozens of other ambulances, police cruisers and private cars trying to get in. A Friday night in the ER at Charity in New Orleans was often compared to a triage unit during the Vietnam War. The trauma surgeons this hospital produced were the best in the country, which was why the competition to get in was so fierce. It was easy to fathom once you realized that on the weekends they averaged a hundred gunshot wounds a night, and even more stabbing victims. It was a typical night in the Big Easy.

As they drove further away from the chaos of Tulane Avenue, through the deserted downtown area and into the large oaks of uptown, the streets got wider and quieter. Uptown had its own share of crime but here the houses were bigger and surrounded by even higher fences keeping out the ugliness of what New Orleans had to offer. Most of the mansions along the city's famous St. Charles Avenue were owned by old money establishment, and nothing like the violence that had marred Desi's leg ever came in contact with their families unless it was invited in. The rich lived, played and socialized among these beautiful old trees. That had been the way since the city had been founded.

Driving up the ramp at the new hospital, Desi could tell the difference right off. There was no crowd of people waiting to be seen and no noise. Surprising for a Friday night, but then if you had been shot you wouldn't be here. Rolling along the professionally decorated walls the gurney stopped on the third floor in front of a private suite. From the moment the elevator doors opened, two attractive nurses crowded around Harry trying to offer assistance.

"Dr. Basantes, your room is ready, and all the equipment you ordered has been set up. Can I help you get your patient settled?" asked Mitzy. She walked up and leaned into Harry trying to get her undivided attention.

"Thank you, Mitzy, it's been awhile. How have you been?" She took a step back trying to put some space between them.

"Waiting for you to call me, doc, but it seems like you've cast me aside since you haven't made the effort to pick up the phone."

"Not the place or time for that discussion, Mitzy. Let's keep our minds on the task at hand shall we?" Harry gave her a glare that cooled her ardor.

Moving Desi into the room, the team gently transferred her onto the hospital bed. Harry spent twenty minutes getting her leg into the traction position Desi needed to help with the healing of the fracture. David took the time to talk to the forlorn appearing Desi bidding her goodbye and good luck. Once Desi was comfortable, Harry dismissed everyone allowing her some peace.

"How long do I have to be here?" asked Desi. She was having a hard time looking Harry in the eye now, so she looked instead to the warmed blanket the nurses had brought in to cover her.

"We need the bone to begin knitting, then we'll discuss your release. So sit tight because you're going to be here for at least a week if not a little longer. I know you're tired, Desi, but do you want to tell me what happened? Who did this to you?" She watched as Desi twisted her fingers into the bedding with a defeated look now that they were alone.

"I really don't want to get into that with you. Not that I don't appreciate your help but this really isn't your concern. This is my problem. I'm just sorry you got dragged into the situation because of rotten luck. You have your life and don't need my complications messing you up," answered Desi in a sharper tone than she intended.

"Desi, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know. You aren't a complication to me, you never were. I thought you were my friend. The reason I'm asking is there was a police officer waiting for me when I got out of surgery tonight, and he had some pretty disturbing things to say about what happened. My offer's genuine. I want to help you if that's what you want," Harry finished with a sigh. Shouldn't she be the one getting angry? After all it was Desi who had walked out without explanations or reasons. But the urge to touch Desi was so great, she had to sit on her hands to keep from reaching out.

"If you know already, why ask me?"

"Because you were always the one preaching that there are always two sides to every story." Harry scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to fight off the fatigue she was battling. "I'm not trying to pry into your life, I'm just trying to help you."

"Why would you want to help me?" Desi's head came up for the first time since being placed in the room expecting to see pity and rejection in Harry's face. The compassion she found was surprising.

"Because I care about you, time doesn't kill that, or at least it hasn't for me. I won't lie and tell you I understand why."

"Why what?" She knew the answer to what Harry had said, but as much as it scared her, it was time to provide an explanation that was too long over due.

"Why you walked out of my life? Why you never returned any of my phone calls or never came to the door when I was home from school and came over to visit?" The memories of all that pain came flooding back and Harry had to stop talking to get her emotions back in check. "Did it only take a few weeks to forget how I felt about you?"

"Do you think so little of me to think I did all those things to hurt you? That I could just toss you aside and forget you?" Desi's voice projected a strength she didn't feel, but she couldn't turn back now. "Everything I did, I did because I cared about you. I did it all because I loved you!"

"Because you cared about me? Because you loved me? For the longest time I was in hell. I lost you for no reason, and I had to face that you didn't want me in your life with no explanation. Maybe it was the thought of living a lifestyle your family and friends wouldn't understand. I don't know, only you have the answers and they can remain with you if that's what you want."

Harry had to use all of her willpower not to sit on the bed and take Desi in her arms when her words obviously hurt and Desi dropped her head again. Funny how the feelings she had spent so long trying to bury could spring to life with so little effort. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dump all of that on you especially now. It's just been a really long day, and you were a really big surprise."

"Do you have someone in your life now?" The fear of knowing the answers to all her questions that had added up in the time they'd been apart won out, and Desi's tears pooled in her eyes again at her own attempt to change the subject. With nervous fingers, she went back to twisting the blanket.

Harry laughed but the act had nothing to do with humor. "No, Kenneth and Tony pull me out of my shell every so often but there isn't anyone I'm seeing. It might have been a good thing for you to walk away from me. I can put someone's bones back together no matter what the damage, but I suck at relationships. Even when I've really tried, something always got in the way. I work, I teach and that's good enough for me." Harry put her hands in her pockets and tried to hide the surprise she felt at the unexpected question.

The truth was after what had happened with Desi, she was always waiting for whoever she was seeing to walk out. The pain of loss wasn't so great if you didn't put your heart at risk.

The defeated tone of the answer made Desi's head whip up. "But you were the most loving person I've ever known. You deserve someone who makes you happy, someone who makes all this work you do count for something."

"My work does count for something. I don't need a little woman patting me on the head at the end of the day to tell me otherwise. I've changed from the person you knew a million years ago. That Harry doesn't exist anymore." Harry's voice still carried a little heat, making Desi drop her eyes again and shrink a little into the bed.

In an instant Harry backed down not wanting to scare her. "Enough about me and my empty life for tonight. Think about my offer and we'll talk about it in the morning. Ring for Mitzy if you need anything. I'll be back around eleven, but someone can reach me if you need me before then. I have two surgeries in the morning so I'll be up after that."

"You don't have to bother just for me, Harry."

"The surgeries are here, so it's no bother. Charity doesn't pay the bills, the torn rotator cuffs from the tennis set here do. Here are my cell phone and beeper numbers if you need to talk to me directly." She handed over a card and fought back a smile when Desi pressed it to her chest. "Have a good night, Desi."

Harry walked out of the room with a quick stride before her emotions got the best of her. She passed the nurses' station without a word, trying desperately to repair the carefully constructed wall around her heart that had been rocked to their foundation at seeing Desi again. "Do I have anyone special in my life? What a joke." The closing of the elevator doors swallowed the comment as Harry headed out of the building.

Riding the elevator down to the first floor Harry realized her car was still downtown at Charity. "Crap, this day just keeps on giving doesn't it?" Walking out the main entrance she thought maybe a jog downtown would calm her down after the emotional roller coaster she had been on. Seeing the woman who had broken her heart was one thing, but knowing she picked some abusive prick over her was quite something else.

Ostatak priče možete naći na http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/ali_vali_hdymabh1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 05 kol 2012 10:56

Jedna u nizu serijala (Love In Photographs, Georgia On My Mind, Stick to the Script, Vows of the Heart) koji je napisala Alex Tryst ... Romansa, gay bashing, ...

~ Georgia On My Mind ~
by Alex Tryst

Later that night Blake was just starting to get tired when Bruce started barking hysterically. He trotted out to the foyer and kept barking at the screen door. "What is it, Bruce? What's out there?" the brunette inquired moving from the living room to the foyer herself. He insistently kept at it. "What's up, boy?" she questioned curiously opening the door and stepping onto the porch.

The sight that greeted her was enough to make anyone freeze in fear. Blake couldn't believe her eyes. She had read about the Ku Klux Klan in history books, but she thought it was only a southern Civil War convention that had long since passed to the wayside. However at the moment it was alive and well and standing in her front yard. Bruce growled ferociously at the three white cloaked and hooded figures standing a few feet from her stoop, but just then Blake noticed a fourth standing in the darkness on her porch with a shot gun pointed at her. The attorney had no idea what was about to happen as the four of them simply started at her for a moment in mortal silence, but she knew that she was in grave danger.

Trying to put on a brave front, Blake asked, "What can I do for you?"

"We gotta problem, Yankee." one of them stated. "Word has it you laid a hand on one of our women."

Blake said nothing at first as the man on the porch approached her. "Get down those stairs." he gruffly demanded.

"That's all right. I'm quite fine where I am." the tall woman answered. Before she could even flinch a shot rang out, and pain pierced through her leg that sent her to the ground. Blake howled in agony as the thigh wound squirted blood over the porch and down her slacks. As she fell she had let Bruce's collar go, and the dog attacked her assailant, but the man hit him upside the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him unconscious.

"Next one takes off your fuckin' head!" he yelled. Grabbing Blake by the shirt collar he dragged her face first down the three steps from the porch to the dirt and the feet of the other three. "Get up, Yankee!" the gunman instructed yanking her to her feet by her short dark hair.

The brunette could barely stand the pain in her leg was so bad, but she looked at her attackers defiantly as blood dripped out of the corner of her mouth from catching a nail head on her journey down the stairs. Angrily she spit on the closest one, spraying red all over the white robe. In retaliation she was punched across the face and sent flying into the dirt again. Before she could move though she was grabbed by two of the men, and they dragged her over to the porch railings, tying both writs and leaving her defenseless.

"Yankee, you're an abomination, and you're gonna pay for whatcha did to Georgia Carmichael!"

"Fuck you!" Blake screamed. "Can't stand it that I fucked that girl? Had her screaming for more?" recalcitrantly she questioned trying in vain to free herself. "All of you can just go to hell!"

Without any further words, eight fists came at her at once. Unable to defend herself with her own hands, she tried her best to block the blows with her feet, but the gun shot to her thigh was smarting even more as the moments passed. As the beating continued, Blake started to lose consciousness from the pain, especially after the repeated blows to the head from the butt of the shot gun.

"Just remember, Yankee! You brought this on yourself!" one of them stated as they retreated a few steps. Blake couldn't even respond or see as her eyes were swollen almost completely shut from continuous pounding. However she became aware of something being slipped over her head and it beginning to tighten around her neck as her air supply began to decrease before blacking out completely.

Georgia was sitting at her kitchen table with her mother, trying desperately to fight the urge to wretch the following morning when there was a loud pounding on the door to the trailer. Cindy raced to answer the urgent knocking as Georgia looked up from her position. As Cindy flung open the door, Jack stood there with his clothes covered in dried blood. "Jack! My God! What happen to you?" Cindy inquired pulling him inside.

"I'm fine. It's not mine." he answered. "I gotta talk to you and Georgia."

"Well, come in, come in. Sit down. What happened?" anxiously the older blonde asked again with concern.

"Last night you made quite a nuisance of yourself, Georgia." he stated. "I got upset with what you said 'bout Yankee, so I went to see her after I closed down the bar, 'cause I heard some of the boys talkin' 'bout gonna pay her a visit."

"What happened? What'd she say?" Georgia inquired.

"She didn't say nothin', because she was practically dead when I got there!" he yelled dropping into a chair.

Instantly the blonde's eyes flew open wide. "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean the boys tried to hang her, Georgia! I've never seen anything like it! When I pulled up, I couldn't even believe it! There she was strung up like a scarecrow. There was so much blood and dirt that I couldn't even see her face except where tracks of tears had wiped her cheeks clean. There was noose around her neck, and it looked like they had tried to hang her from one of the rafters on the porch, but it broke under her weight. Looked like it had dry rotted, so it wouldn't hold her. As it was she had been shot in the leg and beaten so badly I hardly could recognize her." he explained softly, his voice trembling. "The dog was lyin' at her feet whimperin'. He looked like he had been injured too. She was unconscious but still alive. I cut her down and rushed her to the hospital."

"Oh my God! That poor child!" Cindy exclaimed. "How did this happen, Jack? Who did this to her?"

Jack looked at Georgia. "Well, some of my Klan buddies were at the bar last night, Georgia. They heard you goin' on 'bout Blake. I guess they took it upon themselves to take matters in their own hands."

"Georgia, what did you say?" Cindy asked loudly.

"We just got in a fight, Mama. It was nothin'." Georgia tried to defend.

"Nothin'? Georgia, you almost got her killed!" Jack screamed. "Had I not come along, she might be dead right now! What the hell is the matter with you? How could you do that to the one you love?" Shocked at her husband's revelation, Georgia just sat there stunned a moment. "Look, Georgia. I don't like Yankee a whole lot, but you do! How could you kill her with your words?"

"I didn't! She hurt me! I had nothin' to do with them goin' over there!"

Rising from his chair with such anger, it tipped over backwards and slammed against the floor. Jack stared at her. "You know, Georgia, I want a divorce! I thought you were still a kind woman under it all, but you ain't nothin' but a cold-hearted bitch for doin' this! I cain't love you any more!" Looking at Cindy he spoke more softly saying, "I took Yankee's dog to the vet. Maybe you could be kind 'nough to go by her house and try to find a phone number of someone to call. Right now I have to stop by the sheriff's office and tell them what I know."

When Blake came to, she had no idea where she was. Her body ached all over, but she fought the pain enough to try to look around. Taking in the room, she realized she was in a hospital and by her bedside sleeping in chairs were her parents. Looking down her body, Blake didn't see a place that wasn't bruised. Just then the door opened admitting a nurse.

"Well, look who's awake?" the nurse stated. "How you feeling, sugar?"

"Terrible." Blake whispered as her parents began to wake at the noise.

"Oh, Blake, baby!" her mother exclaimed.

"Girl, you had us scared!" her father mentioned.

"Ya got a visitor." the nurse stated. "Do you think you're up for it?"

"I guess."

"All right but only for a few minutes. Don't over do it."

A moment later Jack entered the room hesitantly. Blake was surprised by his presence but didn't have time to question it as her parents introduced themselves. Jack then requested he be allowed to speak to the attorney alone, so within a moment they were looking at each other silently.

"Why are you here, Jack? Haven't you done enough? Or are you just here to finish the job?"

"You think I did this? Yankee, it might be true that I don't like you much, but I know my right from wrong. God's the one you have to answer to so my opinion don't matter. I just happened to be the one to find you."

"But you probably know who did do it."

"I have an idea, and I already talked to the sheriff 'bout it. I just wanted to see how you were and tell you what was goin' on with Bruce."

"Bruce? He's okay, isn't he?"

Jack gave a nod. "He should be all right. He's still at the vet's. I took him over there after bringin' you here. If you feel half as much for your dog as I do mine, I couldn't have left him behind."

"Thanks." Blake whispered.

"Yeah, well, it was nothin'." After a brief, awkward pause, he stated, "Just so you know, I asked Georgia for a divorce."

"Why is that any of my business?"

"Just 'cause I know how she feels 'bout you, but I couldn't stand the fact that she could be so mean. I know the truth now, Yankee. She lied to everyone in that bar. Why didn't you say so?"

"Like any of you would've believed me over her? Besides it wasn't my place to expose her to all of you. I know how this town feels about me. I wouldn't have wanted that for her."

"You love her?" he questioned.

"How could I love anyone who did this to me?"

He gave a nod. "Well, I should get goin'. I'll tell your parents 'bout Bruce. I'll see you 'round."

"All right. Thanks again, Jack."

Later that afternoon while her parents had gone back to the house to get some much needed rest she had two other visitors. Unfortunately though Georgia was with Cindy. Nevertheless Blake greeted Cindy politely. "Hey there."

"Oh, Blake. Look at you. You poor girl."

"I'll be all right. I'm alive. I can be thankful for that." she answered. Looking at Georgia, she inquired, "Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're all right." the younger blonde stated softly. She hadn't been prepared for what the tall woman might really look like. Jack had said she had been badly beaten, but that didn't do the damage justice. In fact she hardly knew the woman lying in front of her because of all the injury that had taken place. Blake's head was bandaged hiding what was left of her hair. She had huge black circles around her eyes, her nose was misshaped, and her face was swollen with angry dark welts. She had rope burn around her neck and wrists, and her left arm was in a cast along with one leg while the other was bandaged from her gunshot wound. Georgia's heart sunk at the sight of the woman she loved in spite of what had happened, and she felt tremendous guilt, knowing she had been the cause of Blake's current state. Bringing trembling hands up to her mouth, she held back a gasp as tears began to stream down her face.

However Blake only gave her a cold stare shortly asking, "You satisfied with the job your boys did on me?"

"Blake." the blonde uttered.

"How could you do this to me, Georgia? I never want to see you again! Do you hear me? Get out!" the brunette yelled.

"Blake, please. I'm so sorry."

"Get the fuck out before I get out of this bed and throw you out myself!" that attorney screamed as loud as she could.

Within seconds a nurse came rushing threw the door at the sound. "Is there a problem, honey?" she inquired looking back and forth between the three of them.

"Take the little girl out of here. Her mother can stay." Blake stated gruffly.

"Go on, Georgia. Wait outside for me. I'll just be a few minutes." Cindy requested.

Regretfully the teacher looked down at the woman who held her heart. "I'm sorry, Blake." she whispered as the nurse took her by the arm and escorted her from the room.

The brunette watched her go before looking at the older version of the teacher. "Cindy, it's nice to see you."

"Baby, I'm real sorry 'bout what happened to you." she said.

"Me too, Cindy, me too but I'll manage. As soon as I can I'm going to get out of here and go back to New York where it's a little safer for someone like me." she said, the irony not lost on her.

"I understand if you're mad at Georgia, but you have to know that she never meant for this to happen."

"Cindy, your daughter almost had me killed. It's because of her that I'm here. In her drunken stupor she told half the town that I raped her. I did no such thing."

"I know you didn't, Blake. I believe you."

"Cindy, I never want to see your daughter again. She might has well have killed me, because I'll never be the same. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm getting tired."

Cindy nodded. "Of course. For what it's worth, I'm truly sorry, Blake. I'll come see you later without Georgia."

"I'd like that."

"All right. Take care of yourself, sugar."

"I always do." Blake stated before Cindy walked out the door.

Blake looked out the window of her upper Manhattan office down toward Midtown. The Empire State Building stood proudly in the skyline on that bright summer day. In the further distance was the hole where the World Trade Center once stood, and she idly thought about having been in that building before it fell. It had seemed like such a long time ago already.

The attorney sighed. Only a few minutes ago she had received a phone call from the prosecuting attorney in Stillwater, Georgia, who was updating her on the case against the Klan members who had brutally beaten her six weeks prior. She still had her casts on her arm and leg, and she walked with a limp from the pain of the gun wound. The scars from her reconstructive facial surgery had faded, but it had taken her awhile to get used to her new face. She had a more angular nose and cheeks now giving her stronger and more serious looking features than what she once had. However there was one upside to the situation in as much as the facelift she had gotten out of the deal had magically removed the weary wrinkles of age and stress around her eyes, making her look almost ten years younger than she actually was.

The prosecuting attorney had just tried to convince her to come back to Georgia to testify in the case. It had received national attention thanks to her famous photographer friend Torrance Whitfield's bright idea. Blake and Torrance had gotten together, and the attorney had allowed her friend to photograph her right after she had returned to New York dressed in only in a rainbow flag. The pictures were haunting images that they truly displayed the horror of the destruction the Ku Klux Klan had inflicted on the respected attorney, and yet they showed the fearless strength of the woman who had stood defiantly in the face of the enemy.

With each of their prestige in the respective professions along with their money, they had managed to get the pictures into every major national liberal political publication, and before either of the realized it, there was a sudden hailstorm of media attention surrounding the tiny town of Stillwater and the case. Political activists demanded justice, expediting the judicial process and forcing the conservative town to take the situation seriously and make the arrests, instead of simply sweeping the matter out of sight.

While Torrance had won accolades for the photographs to add to her collection of the many she already had, Blake had been pushed into a spot light she had never known. She was a national name in politics and media. However instead of shying away from the attention, she boldly stepped into the light, accepting numerous speaking engagements at many social-political functions and interviews with the press. Through it all she displayed the strength that had carried her through that fateful night and the events that followed.

However during that time since she had left Georgia, a certain manacle continued to torment her. It wasn't the Klan or the battering she received that plagued her slumber but the blue eyes of her real foe. The beauty queen that stirred her passions was constantly there in her dreams tempting Blake with her serpentine ways. Not a night went by that the brunette didn't see the blonde in her sleep, usually in the most provocative of ways, constantly reminding her of the desires she had that had put her into her current position. Georgia Carmichael was the devil in angel's robes, her gentle smile, fair hair, and sparkling eyes all catalysts of sweet deception, and Blake found herself still unable to resist the woman in her dreams. She took Georgia Carmichael with every emotion she felt. Sometimes it was sweet and soft, the way she would've have originally liked for their first encounter to be. Other times she forced herself of the blonde, doing the thing the blonde had accused her of, but Georgia never failed to reappear in the darkness of the night to lure her again just when Blake thought she had finally rid herself of the little woman. The tall woman felt helpless. Georgia was like the black widow spider, bringing suffering and death to those that ventured close enough to be bitten, but Blake never failed to be enticed into the blonde's web even knowing the certain mortal fate that awaited her. Every morning Blake swore she wouldn't dream of the small woman again, but inevitably Georgia was waiting whenever she closed her eyes.

Blake knew her feelings for the teacher from Stillwater ran deeper than they had for any one else, and in fact she had fallen hard for the demon that possessed her fantasies. The attorney detested to admit, even to herself, that the reason she hated the blonde so much was that she loved her with equal intensity, but she knew there would never be a time or place that she and Georgia could ever work out their differences. She doubted there would be a time that she would be able to forgive the young woman for practically having her killed even if it was unintentional. The horror of being accused of such horrendous crimes by the blue-eyed monster, even in a fit of anger, was more than Blake thought herself capable to forgive.

Just then her assistant and a junior attorney on staff buzzed her. "Blake, Torrance and Helen Whitfield are here for that lunch appointment." he stated.

"Thanks, Jeff. Tell Glenda to tell them I'll be right out."

"Sure. No problem."

Moving to her desk, Blake slipped on her suit jacket and pulled her wallet out of her brief case. She slowly made her way down the long corridor to the front lobby. However just before she entered it, Glenda, the front desk receptionist, pulled her aside. "Blake, there is a woman here to see you, but she doesn't have an appointment. I tried to get her to make one, but she refused to leave until she saw you."

"What's her name?"

"She said it was Cindy Carmichael. She's been here most of the morning. I put her in Conference Room A."

"All right. Thanks."

Going out into the lobby, she was greeted by her two friends and their baby. "Hi, Blake. How are you feeling?" Torrance asked patting her friend on the shoulder.

"Better and better every day, Tor. Thanks for asking." she replied hugging the photographer. Stepping to Helen, she embraced the attractive blonde and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Helen, you look beautiful as usual. You tired of my old pal yet? Ready to run to me?" she asked teasingly.

"Not yet, Blake. Give me forty or fifty years before propositioning me again." Helen replied to the joke with a bright smile that set her green eyes a glow as she spoke of her beloved.

"Damn. You certainly got lucky, Tor. Wish I could." Blake mumbled in mock disappointment. "How's my favorite boy?" she inquired coming to the stroller and leaning down to pick up the infant. "How are you, John Thomas? Are you going to smile for your Auntie Blake?" The dark-haired green-eyed boy gave her a wide toothless grin as he saw her. He raised his small hand toward her face as she cradled him and offered his toy to her. Playfully Blake nibbled on it, making him squeal in delight. "Looks like your boy has a crush on me." the attorney joked smiling back at him.

"How could he not?" Helen answered touching Blake lightly on the arm before gazing down at her son as well.

"Listen, I was just told that I have an unexpected visitor. She's the one from Georgia I was telling you about. I have no idea why she's here, but I'd like to invite her to lunch with us if that's okay."

"That nasty one that almost got you killed?" Torrance inquired.

"No, not her, her mother. The really nice lady I told you about. Come on. Let's go ask her. She's in the conference room." Blake led the way to where Cindy was waiting. Opening the door she saw the blonde standing with her back to the door staring out the window. "Cindy, sorry to have kept you waiting. What brings you here?" Blake questioned brightly moving into the room. However as the blonde turned, the brunette felt her breath leave her, for it wasn't Cindy standing there.

As Georgia's eyes met Blake's she felt a sudden lump form in her throat. The attorney was standing there with a baby in her arms, who was busy chewing on her jacket lapel. Two women stood just beyond her, one stunning blonde and the other an equally attractive tall brunette. "Blake, you look different." she mentioned taking in the attorney's features.

"Yeah. It's called reconstructive surgery, Georgia. You gave me this face. What the hell are you doing here, and why did you say you were your mother?" she sternly inquired. "I thought I made it clear I never wanted to see you again."

Helen moved forward and reached for her son. "Here. Torrance and I will just wait in the lobby for you." she offered.

"No. You and Tor stay here. After all I should have witnesses in case she wants to accuse me of raping her again." Blake growled shooting daggers at Georgia. "Now, tell me, Georgia. What are you doing here?" she asked again stepping closer to her nemesis.

"I wanted to see you, Blake. I couldn't stand the way things ended, and I wanted to see if you would talk to me. I said I was my mother, because I figured that would be the only way I could get you in here."

"I have nothing to say to you, Georgia, that I haven't already. When I said I didn't want to see you ever again, I meant it."

Georgia took a deep breath and stepped forward toward the woman who held her heart. "Blake, I'm truly sorry for what happened to you. It was never my intention for this to happen. That night we made love was nothin' like I ever experienced." she stated continuing to move slowly closer to the attorney. "I was hurt beyond words when you brushed me off the next day, but never in my worst thoughts of you did I want anyone to kill you or hurt you this way. You have to believe me, Blake. I had nothin' to do with those Klan members comin' to your house." she said coming to a stop a few feet from the tall woman.

Blake was mesmerized by the fact that Georgia looked exactly how she was in her dreams, soft and beautiful. There was no denying the physical attraction to the teacher, but when the blonde reached up to touch her cheek, Blake yanked back quickly, knowing if she allowed the little woman to touch her, she might not have the strength to fight her libido. "Georgia, your words at the bar that night destroyed me, and I'm not just talking about the fact that I was beaten within inches of my life. You told everyone in there that I raped you. You lied about something so intimate, and you made me out to be a monster. You intentionally degraded my integrity and honor. Not only that it was your words that fueled those men to their hate and made them come to the house to try to hang me. I could be dead, Georgia. It was chance that my life was spared."

"I know." the blonde whispered as tears came to her eyes. "I cain't think 'bout that. It breaks my heart to think of you that way. I just want to try to make things up to you, Blake. I want to see if we have somethin'. That's all I ever wanted."

"Then why did you tell everyone that I raped you? That's not the way to start a relationship."

"Because I was hurt that you'd rather be with Cara than me. I'll do anythin', Blake, if you just give me a chance."

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/alex_tryst_gomm1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Post Postao/la Afrodita » 07 kol 2012 10:25

Možda jedna od najpoznatijih autorica Radclyffe. Serijal o agentici Cameron Roberts.

Above All Honor
by Radclyffe

Chapter One

"I don’t want this assignment."

"You don’t have a choice."

"With all due respect, sir, I am a senior agent, and I should have some say regarding my assignments."

He studied her silently. She was thinner than the last time he had seen her, and there was a new hardness in her dark eyes. She stared at him in thinly disguised challenge, the anger simmering very near the surface. The folder on his desk held her service record. It was flawless, exemplary in every way. It told the crucial facts, and none of the story. No one had ever known the whole story, and now they never would. Because she wasn’t talking, and no one really wanted her to. What everyone wanted was to get on with business as usual, and it was his job to see that that happened.

"You’ve been selected by the Security committee. They think you’re the best one to head up the detail. Their decision is not negotiable."

"It’s a goddamned baby-sitting assignment. Any rookie could do it," she seethed through clenched teeth. She was skirting the edge of insubordination. She knew it, and she didn’t care. There wasn’t a thing anyone could do to her that could hurt her any longer. Except maybe bury her in a bullshit detail like this. She needed a field assignment -- something that would consume her energy; something that would exhaust her mind; something that would obliterate her memories.

"Is it the injury? Do they think I’m not fit for active duty?" she demanded.

"Are you?"

"Absolutely. I’ve been released from rehab, and I’m done with the mandatory psych eval."

"Good. I’m glad to hear it. You start tomorrow. I suggest you review the available reports from the current commander before you leave for New York."

"Damn it, Stewart! You know I don’t deserve this!"

"This has nothing to do with you, Agent Roberts. That will be all."

Assistant Director Stewart Carlisle watched the tall, trim agent as she turned away, stiff with rage. He had no doubt she would give her best; she always did. What he wondered was where she would put her anger.

"Booth seven is free," the firearms supervisor informed her.

She nodded, grabbing a pair of protective earmufflers as she walked through the small office to the long corridor that opened into the individual firing stations. She wore a gray tee-shirt and navy sweatpants from her two-hour workout at the gym, and the back of her shirt was still wet with sweat. The small bag she carried held her service automatic and ammunition. She looked neither right nor left as she strode rapidly toward the narrow glass enclosure.

There was a row of buttons that allowed her to set the target type and distance. She began with a medium range standard human form and fired off a clip at an easy pace, alternating between clusters in the mid-torso and head. As she rhythmically squeezed the trigger her mind slowly emptied of emotion, until all she felt was the recoil of her weapon and the measured beating of her heart. When she was no longer aware of her anger over an assignment that she perceived as an undeserved demotion, she moved the target fifty feet further away. Accuracy demanded even greater concentration, and as she began to fire in faster, tighter bursts the ever present vestiges of longing and loss began to fade. By the time she had moved the smallest target to its farthest distance, she felt absolutely nothing.

Fresh from the shower, she walked naked across the carpeted living room to the bar. The apartment was on the twenty-first floor, and the floor to ceiling windows were uncovered, exposing the night skyline of Washington, D.C. The view was breathtaking. She poured an inch of single malt scotch into a heavy crystal rock glass and leaned against the bar, staring at the city lights mingling with the stars. There had been a time when this vision had moved her with its piercing beauty. There had been many nights when she had allowed the tensions of the day to drift away into that great expanse of flickering light, feeling the world settle back into some kind of order. It was often the last thing she saw before she slipped into bed, but then she hadn’t been alone.

She reached for the gray silk robe from the back of a chair as a knock sounded at the door. She had a flight to New York in five hours, and a meeting with her new team at eight a.m. She still needed to review the dossier that had been delivered by courier that evening. She didn’t have much time, and she knew she wouldn’t sleep.

She glanced at the clock as she crossed to the door. It was one a.m. Her visitor was punctual; she always was. She opened the door to admit a woman in her mid-thirties, casually dressed in a beige linen suit, a silk shirt open to expose the swell of her breasts, and low-heeled soft tan boots. The woman greeted her with a familiar smile, brushing her blond hair back with a long elegant hand.

"Hi."

"Hello. Can I get you something to drink?"

"That depends," the blond replied as she slipped her jacket off and laid it carefully across the back of a couch that faced the windows. "Are you in the mood for talking tonight?"

"I don’t have much time."

"Then I’ll have that drink another time," her guest replied softly. "Sit down in front of the windows."

The woman in grey dimmed the lights as she moved around to the sofa as directed. The room was in near darkness except for the shadows etched in the moonlight. She sipped her scotch and watched the stars revolve around her. She had been here before, but not quite like this. She was barely aware of the gentle tug that loosened the belt at her waist, or the soft parting of the silk that covered her. At the first light touch of fingers against her skin, she shivered involuntarily. Eventually the strokes along her taut abdomen and up the insides of her thighs became firmer, more insistent, demanding her attention. She arched toward the woman kneeling before her in the dark, tightening almost painfully as warm lips encircled her. Slow practiced caresses of a velvet smooth tongue swept the images from her consciousness, eclipsing thought with near painful pleasure. A groan escaped her as she dropped her head back against the couch, allowing the slowly building pressure to take her outside herself, beyond thought, past memory. The pounding of her heart grew loud in her ears as her breath came in short gasps, almost sobs. She struggled to contain the exquisite, piercing throbbing in her clit, and failed. When the explosion began, ripping at her control, she slipped one hand into the soft blond hair, moaning deep in her throat. Trembling, helpless, for a few moments she was mercifully unaware.

She walked the blonde to the door, handing her a sealed envelope that rested on the table just inside the foyer.

"I’ll be away for a while. I don’t know how long."

"Will I see you again?"

"I don’t know."

The blonde studied the tall dark-haired stranger she had met countless times in the dark hours of the night - in this room, in elegant hotel suites - in rooms that might be anywhere, or nowhere at all. She knew virtually nothing of the other woman's life, except what she gleaned from the confessions of her body. She knew the hard, lean muscles and the angry red scar on her thigh. She knew the soft, sensitive places that left her gasping when touched. She wondered whose name she called when she came into the silence. She had never tried to find out, and she did not want to know now. Strangely, it was something else she wanted altogether. She wanted to leave something of herself.

Breaking every rule, the blonde said softly, "My name is Claire."

"Claire," the dark-eyed stranger whispered, the expression in her intense gaze unfathomable. She kissed her for the first time, a brief tender meeting of lips that spoke a greeting, or perhaps a good-bye. Then, breaking every rule, she said, "My name is Cameron."

When the door closed, leaving them to their own separate lives, the lingering memory of that kiss was all that remained between them.

Chapter Two

At six a.m. United States Secret Service Agent Cameron Roberts boarded a small jet bound for New York City. She wore her ID badge clipped to the pocket of her dark blue gabardine suit. She carried an overnight bag with a change of clothes, and her computer. The rest of her belongings would follow on a separate flight, and would be delivered to her new apartment in the Gramercy Park Hotel later that day by some member of her team. After four hours of deep sleep, undisturbed by dreams, she felt fresh and ready to work. That she didn’t like her assignment was now a moot point. She had a job to do, and that was all that mattered.

The flight was only partially full. It was Saturday morning, and only a few government employees were traveling. She took a seat across the aisle from a burly blond man with a badge that displayed FBI in bold letters. She saw him study her own badge as she sat down. Female agents were no longer rare, but she still drew attention. She was used to it.

"Investigative division?" he questioned as the plane taxied down the runway.

She nearly said 'yes', then stopped herself quickly. With a shake of her head, she replied, "Protective."

"Anybody important?" he asked curiously.

"Aren’t they all?"

He couldn’t tell if she was joking, so he stifled a laugh. And they said FBI agents were humorless!

She opened a laptop computer, subtly angling the screen away from him. He took the hint and opened a newspaper as she entered her password.

She entered the link to the USSS personnel division and brought up the bios on her new team. Nothing out of the ordinary. Four men and four women in addition to herself, all with more than five years experience in the field. All college educated, as were almost all agents except the rare few who came through military channels or some other unusual route. All had advanced emergency medical training, as had she, and all were expert marksman. Two of the men and one woman were married; there was one Hispanic and two black agents. She fixed a name to each face and exited the site.

Entering the protected password, she brought up the encrypted file she had downloaded last night.

Field Report, Fri 12/26, 21:30
Submitted by USSS Agent in Charge Daniel Ryan

Subject: Blair Jane Powell
DOB: 12/31/1972
Residence: 310 Gramercy Park, PH
New York City, 10021
Phone: (212) 295-0566

Marital Status: Single
Education: Washington Friends High School, Wash. D.C.
Paris Institute of Fine Arts
Occupation: Artist
Business address: NA
Business Agent: Diane Bleeker

Code Name: Egret
Physical Description: WF, 5’8", 120 lbs.
Hair: Blonde, Eyes: Blue.
Distinguishing marks: 2 cm scar right eyebrow, 3cm tattoo
right posterior shoulder ( purple and blue labyris)

Medical Conditions: None
Allergies: None

Significant relationships: (SEE ATTACHED REPORTS)
Romantic: Current - unverified
Last known - classified, FYEO file

Summary: Standard twenty-four hour rotating shift surveillance. Subject schedule fluid, frequently unverifiable. Communication link: Team commander only per subject request. On-person com links refused.

The file was bare bones minimum, and Cam wondered what her predecessor wasn’t willing to commit to hard copy. She’d find out soon enough. He was meeting her at the airport for a debriefing.

She sipped her coffee and slipped the thin folder that held the Eyes Only report on Egret’s last known lover from her briefcase. She read it carefully, her expression betraying nothing. According to this, until eighteen months ago, the President’s daughter had been having an affair with the wife of the French Ambassador. For obvious reasons, the relationship had been kept under deep cover, although rumors had floated in the security community for years about the sexual leanings of Blair Powell. Part of Cam’s job was to see that those rumors remained just that. Her job would be doubly hard if the subject refused to cooperate.

She wondered briefly if her appointment as commander of the security detail assigned to Ms. Powell hadn’t been due to her own sexual preferences. It wasn’t a matter of record, of course, but no one really believed that any one in the government’s employ had any secrets. She had been careful, but certainly not paranoid, about her personal life. After the events of a year ago, she doubted there was much her superiors didn’t know. Speculation was futile, and pointless. She knew for certain she didn’t care.

She fed the file recounting the details of Blair Powell’s love life into the shredder at the front of the plane as she exited.

"Sorry to transition on the run," Daniel Ryan remarked as they settled into a booth in the airport cafeteria. "I have to catch the next flight out."

"No problem," Cam replied neutrally.

"Mac Phillips, who will basically be your aide, has the apartment building plans, evac routes, and hospital info ready to review with you as soon as you arrive. Your NYPD liason is Lieutenant Marcia Landers; she’s Hostage Rescue. She usually interfaces with the police patrol division commander, Lieutenant Chuck Thayer, if Egret is travelling to some public function. Both good people. Otherwise, we cover her internally."

"Uh huh," Cam said casually. Everything he was telling her could have easily been relayed by anyone on the team. She was waiting for him to get to the point of this private meeting.

He watched her watching him. Her rep was that she was a real straight arrow, by-the-book agent. She’d have to be to get this post. She certainly looked the part. Her short dark hair was perfectly trimmed, neat around her ears, collar length in back; her suit was without a wrinkle, and perfectly tailored to her tight, trim build; she didn’t display a hint of nerves, or anything else - assessing him with intense, piercing gray eyes. Her bio said she’d been in the investigative unit for twelve years. Why she’d been reassigned to the protective division was anybody’s guess. Beyond that scant information, she was a cipher. He couldn’t find anyone who had inside knowledge about her, and no one had heard even a whisper that she was anything other than an obsessively dedicated agent. He met her gaze and made a decision.

"Can we talk off the record here?"

"Go ahead," Cam responded.

"Every day for the last six months I woke up wondering who I had pissed off to get this assignment," he said with a shake of his head. "Egret is practically impossible to protect because she doesn’t want us around. She’s had eleven years of practice misleading us, evading us, and generally humiliating us when it comes to surveillance. She’s like Jeckyl and Hyde. At public functions, she’s fine - cooperative, even friendly. Privately, she does everything she can to make our job hell. She refuses to discuss her schedule with anyone except the team commander. Congratulations. Then she changes plans without telling anyone. We almost never have time to adjust vehicle placement or equipment, so we have to shadow her on foot, which in New York City is a nightmare. She absolutely refuses to wear a microphone or any other tracking device, even on direct instruction from the President." He handed her two photographs. "Then there’s this."

She studied the shots side be side. The first was a standard publicity picture, a close up of Blair Powell at the opening of the Reagan Library earlier that year. As usual, she looked poised and confidant. Her blonde hair was swept back from her face, held with a silver clasp at the base of her neck. Her makeup was understated and flawless, serving only to accentuate the natural elegance of her sculpted face and clear, smooth skin. Her designer dress highlighted her sleek form, complimenting both her athleticism and her subtle softness. She was, in a word, beautiful.

The second photo was a candid taken when the subject was unaware. It was grainy, suggesting it had been taken from a unit with a telephoto lens. The details, however, were clear. The woman in the photo wore tight faded jeans and a white cotton tank top. Her breasts, firm and well-shaped, were clearly evident beneath the thin material and unencumbered by a brassiere. The clothes displayed her long legs, sleek torso, and toned limbs with brazen explicitness. Her collar length blonde hair hung free around her face, mildly curly, looking as if she had simply run her hands through it in lieu of a comb. She wore no make-up, and didn’t look like she needed any. She exuded an energy that was palpable even in the poor photo. She projected the sensuality of a jungle cat, and looked about as dangerous. She bore almost no resemblance to the contained, refined woman in the first shot.

Cam handed him the photographs silently. It was his show.

"No one in the general public recognizes her like that, and sometimes it even takes us a minute or two. In that time, she can disappear in the crowd, walk into a restaurant unnoticed, get into a cab without a fuss. That’s why it’s so easy for her to lose us. No one points a finger at her, or runs after her trying to get an autograph."

"But you and your operatives still know what she looks like," Cam pointed out. "You can find her." That was obvious, and she wondered when he would get to the real issue.

He nodded agreement. "Sure we can. Most of the time. The problem is, we also need to protect her privacy, as well as her reputation." He ignored the slight lift in Cam’s eyebrow at that line of bullshit. Blair Powell had no privacy. They both knew it was the President’s image they needed to keep untarnished. Any scandal regarding his daughter reflected on his parenting skills, and ultimately on his character.

Blowing out a breath, he cut to the chase. "She’s a lesbian. In certain situations, if we call attention to her, that’s going to get out. She knows it, and she uses it."

"How so?"

"She frequents some of the gay bars. It’s hard for me to put agents in there, even when they’re undercover. I never know when she’s going to duck into one. Plus, I don’t exactly want to announce to everyone there that Blair Powell just walked in. She picks up women - women we have absolutely no way of identifying in the moment. We have no way to know where they might go, no way to put agents in place in advance. We are constantly running in second place hoping to God she doesn’t get herself into trouble before we can get there."

"Is she promiscuous?" Cam asked evenly.

"She does better with women than I ever did," he remarked in frustration. "She doesn’t have a steady girlfriend. I wish to hell she did. Then maybe we could keep track of her. She doesn’t exactly sleep around, but she doesn’t go long without sex either."

"What are you trying to tell me here, Agent Ryan?" Cameron asked, tired of skirting the edges of the issue. "In addition to the fact that we have an uncooperative, high profile subject with a very problematic lifestyle?"

"She’s an angry animal in a cage, and you’re the new zookeeper. She’s been trying to escape for years, and when she does, someone is going to get hurt."

Cameron inclined her head in agreement. Blair Powell had lived with constant surveillance since her father had been elected Vice President for two terms, and governor of New York before that. Now that he was a newly seated President, she had at least three more years of even closer monitoring. She was a prisoner in all but name, and Cameron doubted anyone could tolerate that for long. The political pressure to hide her sexuality must make it even worse. If she had the luxury of empathizing with the First Daughter, she would have felt deeply for her predicament. But Blair Powell’s happiness was not her responsibility, and she couldn’t waste time or objectivity worrying about it.

"Some one may indeed get hurt," she responded. "I intend to see that it’s not her."

Chapter Three

"Agent Roberts?" a handsome Brad Pitt look-alike inquired as Cam stepped off the elevator on the eighth floor of a brownstone apartment building that faced the south side of Gramercy Park. He extended his hand with a disarming smile. "I’m Mac Phillips. The others are inside the command post. Welcome to the Aerie."

She took his outstretched hand, smiling at the play on eagle’s nest. "Cameron Roberts. What's on for this morning?"

She accompanied him into a large loft space that had been sectioned into work cubicles and equipment stations by shoulder high particle-board partitions. Their surveillance center occupied the entire floor directly below Blair Powell’s penthouse suite. A small conference room enclosed by glass filled the far corner. As they approached the group of people seated within, Phillips consulted a printout in his hand.

"Intro and weekly briefing now. You are scheduled to meet with Egret at eleven in the penthouse." He caught her faint expression of surprise and shrugged. "She won’t talk to any of us. She says if she must discuss her plans, it will only be once, and with the team commander."

"It’s her prerogative," Cam remarked. As she walked, she was making careful note of the banks of video monitors, multi-cassette recorders, computer simulators, and a large grid of New York City, digitally indexed and showing up-to-the minute placement of police vehicles. It was the same array of equipment used to monitor the White House and surrounds, and with the same reason. The President was vulnerable through his family. To avoid the appearance of that vulnerability, the First Family needed to be shown living as normal a life as possible, not shuttled about by armed guards. Hence, their protection needed to be provided at a distance, with as little visibility as possible. The semblance of freedom was a ruse they all conspired to perpetuate - everyone, apparently, except Blair Powell.

"Good morning, people," she said briskly as she strode to the head of the oblong table. She glanced at each face, making brief eye contact with everyone. "You have one hour to tell me everything I need to know about this operation, and everything you don’t think I need to know as well. Let’s get started."

At the end of an hour during which Cam listened, questioned, and issued a few directives, the agents who constituted her team sensed there was a new game in town. Everyone present took their responsibility seriously, for the sake of their future employment if for no other reason, and each had felt the frustration voiced earlier by the departing team commander. That dissatisfaction was heightened by the fact that they disliked Blair Powell, although none of them would ever say so, even to each other. Over the six months since Andrew Powell had been President, the obstructive, uncooperative attitude of his daughter had subtly undermined the confidence of the operatives. An hour with Cameron Roberts provided them with the first jolt of optimism they’d felt in weeks.

"Allow me to summarize," Cam said as she stood and walked to the window looking down on the postage-sized private park that formed the heart of Gramercy Park. As she watched an elderly woman unlock the gate that surrounded the park, she spoke, her back to the room, but her voice clearly audible. "Ms. Powell resents our intrusion into her life; she resents our presence in every public and private moment of her day. She undoubtedly resents our observation of her personal liaisons and romantic encounters. I, for one, don’t blame her."

She turned to the group with a small shrug. "The fact that Ms. Powell does not welcome our presence is immaterial. Our job is to see that she is able to carry on her life with the maximum degree of security possible. No matter where she is, or what she’s doing. She has decided to make this a game. We have to play, and we have to win. We don’t get to throw up our hands and call foul if she changes the rules. There are no rain outs. We can’t expect her to help us win; we have to do that for ourselves."

She smiled faintly as she took her seat again. Now she understood at least one of the reasons she had been given this assignment. "Remember she is an uncooperative subject. Don’t expect her to smile and say good morning; don’t expect her to make your job easy. She has made it clear she does not want us around. She is not going to invite us along. We will switch from protective surveillance methods to investigative tactics. If she can’t see you, it will be harder for her to lose you. If you need to follow her to protect her, then you’ve got to fit in where she travels. You have to function essentially undercover."

She looked pointedly at each of her operatives, seeing them as Blair Powell must see them. Ivy league starched, polished and presentable. About as obvious as the proverbial bulls in the china shop.

"Except at scheduled public functions where Ms. Powell is acting in some official capacity, no suits, no ties, no skirts. Street clothes, preferably something appropriate for the type of locales she is known to frequent."

She saw the slight stiffening of a few shoulders, and continued unperturbed. It was time to stop circling the primary problem. "For you men, I think a slightly longer hair length would be helpful for starters. It's time for you to stop looking like tourists, or cops." She sipped the last of her coffee, gathering her papers with one hand. "A little research might also be in order. I want a summary of every gay bar and restaurant in New York City. Hours of operation, type of clientele, traffic patterns in the area, etc. Start with the ones you know she’s been to. Have it on my desk before the day is out. Know your subject, ladies and gentlemen, and you have won the first point."

Everyone relaxed slightly as she pulled open the door to the conference room. She paused at the sill, turning back casually.

"By the way Mac, does she know about the video equipment inside her apartment?"

He looked at her in surprise. How had she noticed that on a quick walk through the monitoring section?

"I doubt it," he said quietly. If she were aware of the micro-cameras mounted in the ceiling of her loft, she would hardly be walking around nude the way she did.

"Turn them off," Cam said flatly. "Video the elevator, the building exits, fire escapes, and garage only. On my responsibility."

With that she was gone, leaving them to wonder where one got the balls to countermand a direct order from the White House Chief of Staff.

At precisely eleven am, Cam keyed the elevator to the penthouse, exiting in a small foyer opposite a carved oak door set into the rich wood panels. The wallpaper on the other two walls adjoining the lift was a cream fabric, intricately patterned and luxuriously textured. The effect was warm and sensual. Cam rang the bell beside the door.

Blair Powell opened the door a moment later. Her hair was wet from the shower, casually finger-combed and falling freely around her face. She wore a loosely belted blue silk robe that came to just above her knees. Her legs were bare, and Cam knew she was naked beneath the thin material. The front gaped enough to reveal the soft inner curves of both breasts. There was a trace of jasmine floating in the air. Cam was assaulted with the seething sensuality she had sensed in the photograph earlier. She kept her gaze carefully at eye level.

"I’m Agent Roberts, Ms. Powell. I’ll come back when you’re ready, " she said neutrally. "If you would just call the command room-"

"I won’t be available later," Blair interrupted, appraising the current commander assigned with her care. This one was somewhat of a surprise. She wore the requisite suit, a little better cut than most. You couldn’t see a hint of a bulge from the shoulder holster. Her hair was short, and fashionably styled in a roguishly faux-masculine cut. The double-breasted jacket was open to expose a fine white linen shirt that hugged a well developed chest and trim waist. The belted trousers were streamlined to the tightly muscled thighs. Blair found her startlingly attractive in an understated butch fashion. The Commander was either unimpeachably heterosexual or exactly what she appeared to be - a lesbian who didn’t care who knew it. Blair was intrigued.

"It’s now or next week," she continued, enjoying her control. There was no way the new commander could wait even a few hours to discuss her schedule.

"Now would be fine," Cam acquiesced graciously. She didn’t want a power struggle over trivial issues. She had no need to prove herself that way.

Blair stepped slightly aside, motioning Cam into the high-ceilinged open loft space. She smiled as Cam carefully avoided brushing against her. All business, she thought to herself.

"Do you have a first name, Agent Roberts?" Blair asked as she crossed to the kitchen area. A breakfast bar flanked by tall stools separated the cooking space from the large living room. She leaned down to pull two cups from the shelves under the island, quite aware that the movement afforded a clear view into her dressing gown.

"Cameron," Cam replied, keeping her face and voice expressionless. Her mind registered the striking perfection of the young woman’s body, an image of her soft, pink-nippled breasts indelibly implanted in her memory. She was being taunted, that much was clear. What she didn’t know was why.

Blair straightened slowly, searching for a reaction in the handsome agent's face. She was curious to find none.

"Cameron," she breathed huskily, "that’s nice. You can call me Blair."

Cameron continued unperturbed, "I’ll try not to take too much of your time, Ms. Powell. If we could just review your plans for the week, I can leave you to your day."

Blair stared at her, anger seething in her blue eyes. "Don’t patronize me, Agent Roberts. We both know you won’t be leaving me to anything at all."

Cam nodded assent. "Forgive me, I didn’t mean it that way. Of course, I can’t. But I can make my presence and that of my people as unintrusive as possible."

Blair was surprised by her conciliatory approach. That was a new tactic. Usually they tried to bully her with threats of unfavorable reports to her father, as if she were an unruly child in school. Either that or they promised her privacy while tightening the net around her. She had absolutely no reason to believe this one, despite the sincerity in her intense gray eyes. She walked around the island carrying the coffee until she was next to Cam. She reached to put the cups on the counter, brushing close to Cam as she did.

Cam didn’t flinch at the contact, although her body registered the pressure of Blair’s breasts against her arm and the heat of a naked thigh against her leg. She was annoyed by the twitch of arousal that occurred entirely involuntarily. She consciously kept her breathing light and steady. She knows about the video cameras. Putting the team commander in an embarrassing position on tape might conceivably benefit her at some point, or it just might be her idea of a game. Either way, Cam pitied Daniel Ryan. Blair Powell was a powerfully desirable woman, and if such attractions still interested her, it might become a problem. Blair had no way of knowing that despite the reflex arousal she provoked, Cam was completely immune to sexual allure.

Blair deliberately pressed closer, and Cam allowed the moment of contact to linger long enough to make it clear she was aware of it, and undisturbed by it. She’d gotten quite a lot of practice in the last six months saying no to attractive women. Then she stepped away, reaching into her inside jacket pocket for the computer log Mac had provided her.

"The schedule?" she said softly.

Blair stared at her, color rising to her face. She had just been rebuked, subtly, but very definitely. Rejection from women was a new and unwelcome experience. She’d never been as blatantly provocative with Daniel Ryan, but she had sensed his discomfort whenever they were alone, and she knew she had an effect on him. Something about Cameron Roberts’ cool, aloof manner made her want to crack that perfect self-control. If she must have a jailer, she wanted it to be one she commanded.

"Yes, let’s get that over with," she responded with irritation, taking her coffee and moving into the sitting area.

Cam followed, noting the large work area in the far corner of the loft. Easels stood open with canvasses mounted on them and other works leaned against every surface. Sunlight streamed through the skylight, illuminating the uncovered surfaces. From the brief glimpse she got, it appeared that Blair Powell deserved her reputation as a genuine artist. Cam took a seat across from Blair on one of two facing leather sofas. Blair tucked her legs under her as she curled gracefully into the cushions. Cam noted abstractly that she was much more beautiful in her unconscious moments than when she used her considerable sexual power as a weapon. In the next instant her mind had returned to the work at hand.

"I have you at a gallery opening tomorrow, dinner at the White House New Year’s Eve, and attending the Macy’s parade here in New York City with the mayor the next day," Cam read from the schedule. She looked to Blair for confirmation.

"Busy week," Blair muttered. "That seems to be it," she said tersely.

Cam regarded her thoughtfully. She would have hated such intrusion, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fact that Blair Powell did not choose this life - it wasn’t her after all who had run for public office - was beside the point. And the hard part was yet to come.

"What about your personal plans," Cam asked, her eyes on Blair’s face. She would not apologize for what she needed to do. Cam wanted it clear that she would not compromise her own responsibility or Blair’s safety because of Blair’s dislike for the situation.

"I don’t have any," Blair responded lightly.

Cam leaned back, tossing the schedule aside. She smiled faintly. "I need to know anything you have scheduled - dinner plans, a date for drinks, that sort of thing. If you don’t know, I’ll need you to tell me as things come up. All you have to do is check in with the command post -"

"I know all this, Agent Roberts," Blair said testily.

"Yes, but apparently you’re not fond of the routine."

"Would you be?"

"That’s not the point. You are the daughter of the President of the United States. You don’t need me to tell you what that means. Please let us do ours jobs, and I promise you we will be as discreet as we can be."

"Do you expect me to tell you when I plan on a sexual liaison too?" she asked bluntly.

"I don’t need to know what you’re doing so much as where you’re doing it," Cam responded smoothly. She knew Blair was trying to get her to back off, and she could not relent now. "It would be preferable if you would inform us when you planned to spend the night somewhere other than here, for example."

"And what if I don’t know where I’ll be spending the night?"

"Then I’ll improvise."

"You’re a lot more direct than your predecessors. Aren’t you afraid I’ll complain about you and you’ll end up guarding some minor foreign diplomat on their tour of the capitol?" Her tone was caustic, but she studied Cam with guarded respect. The new commander was in a class of her own. Impossible to shock, and clearly not intimidated by her. A refreshing change, but much more of a challenge than the others.

Cam laughed. "Ms. Powell, some people would consider that a plum assignment!"

"Compared to this you mean?"

Cam stood, refusing to be provoked. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Powell. Please call me at any time if there is anything you wish to discuss. I would like to review your itinerary each day. Let the command room know when it will be convenient for you to meet with me."

"Oh, absolutely," Blair responded with a smile, her tone implying just how little that request meant to her. She remained seated as Cam left the room, thinking how attractive her tight, graceful body might be under other circumstances.

http://www.academyofbards.org/fanfic/r/ ... honor.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 09 kol 2012 22:49

Vrijeme u kojem žene nisu imale nikakva prava, žena koja nažalost mora živjeti život kao muškarac da bi bila pošteđena nesretne sudbine žena u srednjem vijeku

~ Second Son ~
by A. K. Naten


Gwynneth was sitting up in her bed, reading and writing by candlelight, when a knock sounded at her door. Her heart immediately leapt into her throat and she hesitantly called out for the person to enter. As Anton entered her chambers, her heart began to pound mercilessly. Her husband was dressed in a black shirt and black pants and his hair was damp and loose. Gwynneth swallowed against the lump in her throat.

"Good evening My Lady," Anton said quietly, smiling at the younger woman.

"And to you, My Lord," Gwynneth responded, her voice tinged with nervousness.

Anton stared at her wife for a moment, absorbing her soft, serene beauty and telling herself that she had been a fool to stay away for so long.

The truth was, she wanted to be with Gwynneth, but not for purely carnal reasons; she was genuinely drawn to her. She would catch glimpses of the blonde here and there, each time feeling a sense of longing grip her heart, as well as an urge of lust tighten her loins. She wanted to go to the young woman; she wanted to seduce her and take her, every night if she could. Not only was it surprising that she harbored such lustful intent and thoughts about someone she'd just met, it was almost unheard of to feel that way. Anton knew that wanting someone in such an intensely sexual way was frowned upon, and indeed, the church forbid couples from having relations purely for the sake of desire. And besides all of that, she still felt ashamed to be duping the poor girl about her true identity.

So Anton had convinced herself that she should stay away. After receiving a chastising from both her mother and father, however, she was reminded that it would hurt Weldon's relationship with the House of Clarendon if Gwynneth was to send word to her father that she was neglected and unhappy. Although Anton argued that Gwynneth would not do such a thing, Edgar nevertheless insisted that she spend more time with the young woman and 'take better care of her'. So here she was, attempting to be 'better' and join with Gwynneth again without making a fool of herself.

"I plan to leave for Wextony tomorrow," Anton said suddenly, wishing to avoid the issue of coupling for a moment. "You may go with me, or, if you prefer, you may stay here and await my eventual return."

Gwynneth looked at Anton for a moment. This was the most he'd ever said to her at one time, and she wanted to make sure she gave the correct answer. "I-I will do as you wish, My Lord." She said with some hesitation.

Anton pursed her lips and withheld a sigh. She'd been afraid that Gwynneth would say this. She didn't really want to take the young woman with her to Wextony, but she knew that she couldn't very well leave her here either; her parents would be furious. As much as she was attracted to the young woman, Anton still felt uneasy being around her and carrying on with the farce that was their marriage. The thought of the two of them being all alone at Wextony quite frankly, filled her with dread. She knew that her mother, and even her father, had been coaching Gwynneth about her duties and expected roles, and she wasn't overly eager to break away from the diversion that her parents had been providing for her. Still, she had to return home.

"Well then, you should have your attendants pack your things at the first light of the morrow so that we may leave on time." Anton quipped, perhaps a little too sharply, as she returned her attention to her wife.

"Yes, of course, My Lord," Gwynneth said, bowing her head slightly. Anton seemed upset, and she feared she'd said the wrong thing, though she couldn't imagine why.

Seeing her wife's bowed head, Anton felt bad for being cross. Gwynneth was her wife; she was supposed to spend time with her. The young woman had done nothing wrong, and Anton suddenly felt disgusted with herself for treating her as though she had. She needed to correct that.

Anton approached Gwynneth's bed and reached out for the book that the younger woman held in her hands. "What are you reading?" She asked, watching as her wife's blue-green depths slowly lifted to look up at her.

Gwynneth's eyes met her husband's vivid blue, and she faltered at the intense look she found there. "It-It's... my journal." She answered meekly.

"A journal?" Anton said, quirking a brow upward. "You write in it?"

Again Gwynneth hesitated, "Yes, My Lord."

Anton wiggled the book a little, "Whatever do you write about?" she asked, smirking slightly as she regarded the blonde.

Gwynneth was so taken aback by the question that she couldn't answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"Do you write about me, dear wife?" Anton teased.

But Gwynneth didn't realize her husband was teasing. The tone of Anton's voice suddenly reminded her of Aldred, and she nearly froze in fear, thinking that, at last, Anton was going to turn cruel and torment her as Aldred did.

Seeing the look of fear on her wife's face, Anton again felt bad for frightening the poor girl. She seemed to be doing everything wrong and nothing right. She reached out and touched Gwynneth's arm, noticing the way the young woman flinched beneath her fingers.

"I ask you this only in jest, My Lady," Anton said in a low, hushed voice. Gwynneth looked at her, her expression still fearful. "Your journal is personal, and for your eyes only; I respect that." Anton added sincerely.

Gwynneth managed a nod and swallowed nervously, "T-Thank you, My Lord," she said, still regarding her husband warily. She wasn't sure what to make of the exchange; had her husband been teasing her?

Anton mentally kicked herself. She knew that Gwynneth was already feeling unsure and overwhelmed; now she seemed to be terrified. She sat down on the edge of the bed, very close to the blonde. As Gwynneth looked up at her again, their eyes locked and Anton sensed a spark of the connection they'd shared once before.

She reached out and grasped a small hand, "Do not be fearful, Wife," Anton whispered. "I shan't harm you... I swear it."

Gwynneth's eyes were blurred with tears when she felt the pressure of her husband's lips upon hers. Anton kissed her gently at first, then deeper and more passionately as he buried his fingers in her long hair and pulled her into an embrace before slowly laying her down onto the bed.

As Anton quickly discarded her boots, Gwynneth's heart began to race in fearful anticipation of what they were going to do. She began to chant inside her head, trying to ease her panic and calm her racing nerves, this is Anton... this isn't Aldred... this is Anton. When her husband returned to her side, she felt his hands slide underneath her nightgown and trail gently up her legs, making her inhale sharply.

"Shh," Anton soothed, "It's all right... I shan't hurt you," she repeated softly as she lifted Gwynneth's gown up to her stomach, exposing the lower half of her body to the cool night air. Shifting herself for better access, Anton continued to run her fingers all over the warm, inviting flesh of her wife's stomach, hips, and thighs.

Gwynneth's heart hammered madly inside her chest. The butterfly caresses that her husband was bestowing on her threw her into a tailspin. Panic mingled with arousal, and she couldn't get a grip on the overpowering sensations that flowed through her sensitized body.

Seeing the rapid rising and falling of her wife's chest, Anton stilled her movements for a moment and looked down at the younger woman's flushed face. So vulnerable... so lovely, she thought.

She dipped her head and kissed Gwynneth deeply. "You are truly beautiful, My Lady," Anton rasped against her wife's parted lips.

Gwynneth could scarcely believe her ears. She was stunned but managed to whisper back, "Thank you, My Lord."

Anton kissed Gwynneth again and trailed her fingers down to carefully delve into her wife's sex. Finding a slight wetness, she was pleased that the blonde was at least somewhat aroused. Looking into oceanic eyes, Anton smiled and kissed Gwynneth deeply again, wishing to reassure her and silently convey how much she wanted her.

Gwynneth obediently went along with the kissing, not knowing exactly how to respond, but feeling encouraged that Anton was smiling at her. She was very aware of a sudden need she had to touch her husband. It was a distinct urge that begged her to wrap her arms around him and feel his gentle strength as he hovered over her. Gwynneth had the feeling that instead of using his size and strength against her, as Aldred did, Anton would use it to protect her. She was beginning to think that, rather than feel afraid of her husband's quiet power and dominance, she should welcome it. It was a strangely reassuring sensation, and Gwynneth felt her panic level drop ever so slightly.

Unable to wait any longer, Anton persuaded her wife's thighs apart and situated herself between them. Reaching down to untie her pants, she quickly withdrew her leather phallus and brought it to Gwynneth's wetness. Looking into jade eyes, Anton pushed inside slowly.

Gwynneth bit her bottom lip, fighting to prevent the escape of a groan as Anton entered her. The tight, full sensation took her breath away until Anton stopped for a moment and came to rest on top of her. Leaning down to place soft kisses on her lips, he slowly began moving his hips back and forth, pulling himself out then pushing back in again. Realizing that there was no discomfort this time, Gwynneth was able to change her focus and concentrate on the strange feelings her husband was arousing in her.

Anton pumped her hips carefully, wanting the small blonde to get used to the feeling. She had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be connected to her beautiful wife like this. It was incredible. She could feel, hear, and smell everything, and her own sex began to pulse with desire as it received stimulation from the thrusting motions. Aroused but needing to feel more, Anton reached down and urged Gwynneth's thighs further apart, opening her up so she could get as close to the younger woman as possible.

Feeling her husband sink deeper into her finally made Gwynneth gasp aloud. She gripped the bed coverings and squeezed her eyes shut as Anton released a soft moan and pushed his hips firmly against her. He was fully inside her, she realized in amazement. Her heart pounded erratically as her body began throbbing like never before. She felt flushed as the warmth of her husband's body melded with her own and her heavy nightgown suddenly felt suffocating. Her sex throbbed and her body pulsed and seemed to cry out for something, but she didn't know what. She only knew that she wanted desperately to grab ahold of Anton and pull him against her. She wanted him to shield her and protect her and keep her safe from everyone and everything. Tears began to sting her eyes and Gwynneth scolded herself internally for thinking such thoughts.

Anton placed her hands on either side of Gwynneth's shoulders and began thrusting in short, swift strokes, each one bringing her closer to the edge. A fire started deep in the pit of her belly, and soon it swelled and burst into flames, engulfing her as she gritted her teeth and released a strangled groan of relief.

Her body collapsed downward, but Anton tried not to lay her full weight upon her wife. Instead she dropped to her forearms and nestled her face alongside Gwynneth's head. The smell of jasmine and flowers filled her senses as she listened to the young woman's labored breathing. Gwynneth's heart still pounded harshly, and Anton could feel it thumping against her.

Gwynneth lay very still as her husband remained above her, resting himself as he panted warm and heavy against her neck. Again she felt the urge to wrap her arms around him, but again she made her hands remain motionless upon the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her body ache as it continued to thrum insistently. Anton's damp hair brushed against her cheeks and she caught another whiff of his familiar clean scent as he shifted and withdrew from her. Her sex convulsed from the movement, and she flinched noticeably.

Anton halted her movements, "Are you alright?" she whispered, looking intently at her wife's slightly furrowed brows.

"Yes," Gwynneth rasped in return, nodding but not opening her eyes.

Anton wasn't sure that her wife was being completely honest, and, she wasn't sure that the young woman had experienced any kind of pleasure at all. Her youthful body seemed to indicate that she was aroused, but the expression on her face said that she was uncomfortable and tense. Perhaps it was just Gwynneth's inexperience... perhaps it would just take time for the enjoyment and pleasure to come... or, perhaps Gwynneth just didn't like it? Anton didn't want to think about that. She thought, instead, that it would best to just leave the poor girl alone, so she moved away, sitting herself on the edge of the bed and quickly tying up her pants.

Gwynneth briefly wondered what Anton would say if she asked if she could touch him. By now he must think me as exciting as a wooden board, she fretted inwardly. Then again, she wasn't expected to do anything more than this, was she? Her role was just to lie still and let her husband take his pleasure, and that's what she was doing. She wasn't supposed to do anything else... it wasn't proper for her to want anything more... was it? Her worrisome thoughts were interrupted by the feel of Anton's hand.

He had turned back to her and grasped her nightgown, pulling it back down to cover her again. As she opened her eyes, Gwynneth locked onto her husband's gentle, light blue hue. They looked at her kindly, seeming to understand her distress rather than use it against her. Gwynneth's heart skipped a beat as Anton leaned toward her and lowered his face to hers. Warm, pliant lips pressed against hers, and Gwynneth could not help it when her hand lifted and tentatively touched her husband's face. She was just about to withdraw the mutinous appendage when Anton suddenly brought his own hands up to cup her face and kiss her deeper.

For several minutes they simply kissed and allowed their hands to linger and learn one another. Gwynneth was amazed at the softness of her husband's cheeks, and Anton reveled in being able to connect with the beautiful blonde in such a sweetly intimate way.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/ak_naten_ss1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 10 kol 2012 19:04

Policajka i njezina djevojka s telepatskim sposobnostima. Puno teksta za rubriku Upravo sad bih :D

~ An Empath's Detective ~
by Alex the Cat

Alex walked Kerry to the door.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," Kerry said and leaned back against the wooden frame.

"I had a great time too." The tall woman responded. She absently rubbed the back of her neck wondering if she should kiss the blonde or not. "Thanks for dinner."

"Mmm Hmm." Is she going to kiss me? I know she wants to. I can feel it. God, I want to feel her lips. Should I kiss her? The blonde's thoughts raced rapidly through her mind, her heart keeping pace with it.

Suddenly Alex took a step forward. Their eyes locked as she softly touched the lips before her. A bolt of electricity surged between them and the magnetic pull drew them closer. Kerry lifted her hands up to wrap around a strong neck. At the contact, the tall detective snaked her arms around the small waist. Lips parted seeking permission to deepen the kiss. As soon as tongues touched, Kerry moaned at the exquisite feeling. The kiss became passionate as their state of arousal climbed. Alex slid her hands down to grasp firm butt cheeks. She pushed her body further into the small woman.

Kerry broke the kiss first, needing some oxygen, and placed two fingers on the detective's lips, "I…uh sort of have a confession."

"Okay," Alex looked at her questioningly. "You have a husband?"

Kerry laughed. "No."

Alex's gaze was evidently filled with fire, and Kerry shivered slightly at the sight. "Alex, I think you're incredibly hot, and I'm sure you have had your share of lovers, but I…I don't want to become a conquest." The pleading green eyes spoke volumes.

Alex nodded in understanding. "I have no intention of you being a conquest."

"I'm new at this," Kerry confessed.

Alex arched an eyebrow.

"I mean, not…umm…with… Damn. Let me start again," the blonde sighed. "I have always been a very open person. I've dated men, but this is my first…with…a woman. Well since college, that is. My roommate and I had a thing for each other, but that wasn't anything that went very far…umm well…that's another story, but I just can't put my finger on..." She absentmindedly stroked Alex's high cheekbone and then slid her finger down a solid neck, before continuing.

The tall woman shivered at the contact.

Kerry liked the response she got, and decided to place both her hands high upon the solid chest. "I…I can't seem to keep my hands off you." She slowly slid them down to pass firm breasts. Sea green eyes looked into blazing blue pools.

Alex tried to find her voice. "Maybe I should go."

"No. I mean…umm…" The blonde looked away, not knowing how to express herself.

"How about we have lunch tomorrow and talk some more?" Alex asked.

Still not making eye contact, Kerry nodded.

The tall woman gently hooked an index finger under the woman's small chin bringing her face up. "I know this can be scary. We don't need to do…" Her words were cut off as her lips were caught in a passion infused kiss.

Kerry opened the door and nervously led her through the house and into the bedroom. Facing away from the dark woman, she began to unbutton her blouse.

"Kerry, are you sure about this?" she asked gently.

The small woman nodded.

Long arms snaked around her waist from behind stopping her motions. "Hold on." Alex whispered sensually in her ear. She deposited a soft kiss just below the strawberry blonde's earlobe. Placing large hands upon Kerry's smaller ones that had stopped unbuttoning, Alex asked, "May I have the honor?"

"Yes," Kerry whispered in response. She reached behind her and placed small hands on the tall woman's thighs.

Fingers began to unbutton her blouse as her neck was nipped. The shirt slid from her shoulders and onto the floor. The strong fingers expertly reached around to unclasp the bra. The black silk garment also glided effortlessly onto the floor. Kerry shivered at the cool air and Alex's fingers softly brushing her puckered nipples.

Alex stroked a taut stomach then swung the smaller woman around to unzip the back of the skirt. It instantly fell.

The soft breathing in Kerry's ear made her shiver again. Her knees grew weak as a slight moan escaped her lips. Turning her head, she buried her face in Alex's chest.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked.

Kerry nodded. "I…I just can't stop shivering."

"How about a nice hot bath to warm you up?" Alex softly suggested.

The young woman nodded and led her to the bathroom. She turned on the water and finished removing her clothes. Naked, she smiled sheepishly and stepped into the tub. "I want…to watch you undress."

The detective removed her shirt, then jeans.

A stifled giggle came from the tub.

"What?" Alex asked.

A small finger pointed to her cotton boxers.

She looked at them and back up to the strawberry blonde. With a lopsided grin she asked, "You don't like Tigger?"

"I love him!" Kerry squealed. "And, he's very cute on you."

The detective finished undressing and climbed into the tub, and sat facing the young woman. Grabbing the loofah hanging nearby, she poured a generous amount of the liquid soap into it.

"Oh, what about your shoulder?" Kerry asked with concern as she remembered the detective's injury from the bandage she was sporting along her shoulder.

"It'll be fine. I won't get the stitches wet," Alex reached under the water to take hold of Kerry's left foot. Lifting it gently out of the water, she started the washing.

Kerry leaned back. Having someone wash her was a new sensation. She basked in the feeling of someone else's hands on her body.

"Kneel for me Kerry." Alex softly said.

The young woman did as requested. The water cascaded down her upper body. Droplets of water formed at the end of her nipples.

Alex locked eyes with her while inching her way forward to receive a delicious nipple into her mouth.

Kerry's head lolled backward at the warm mouth suckling her breast. She ran her fingers through jet-black hair.

Alex slid a soapy hand between Kerry's legs. Once her washing was finished, the same attention was lavished upon the dark-haired beauty.

After towel drying each other off they headed over to the bed. Lying down, Alex stretched her full length beside the small woman. They kissed slowly and passionately. Alex then moved down her neck nibbling her way across both shoulders. Flicking her tongue at the pulse point, she continued to kiss and lick the creamy flesh along Kerry's chest and arms. For the moment she stayed clear from the obvious pleasure zones wanting Kerry to fully relax and enjoy having her body ravished. When Alex reached down to the tops of her feet, she gently rolled the young woman over and continued her ministrations on the blonde's backside. First up the calves behind the knees where Kerry giggled a bit, and onto the butt cheeks. As she arrived at the shoulder blades, her kisses became bites just strong enough to make Kerry moan louder and arch her back. She finished her journey returning once again to Kerry's neck.

Flipping her over, Alex knelt between her legs. She brought the blonde's legs up and bent at the knees. She leaned forward, and Kerry wrapped her legs behind a muscular back. Their mounds touched and Kerry felt the liquid fire running down her nether lips. Alex ground into her a few times, and Kerry pushed her hips up to meet her.

Out of nowhere, a tear escaped the young blonde's eye, and ran down a creamy cheek.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked softly. "Am I hurting you?" She stopped her movements and lay next to the young woman.

Kerry took a large hand within her own. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed it. "You didn't hurt me. I…I…just never…had anyone pay so much attention to me like this. It's all so intense and beautiful…" She brought the hand slowly down to the apex of her sex. "Please, don't stop. Forgive my tears."

"There's nothing to forgive," Alex said as she kissed the tear away. She stroked the golden curls at her fingertips, and then dipped into the wetness, just as she took a stiff nipple into her mouth.

The actions caused Kerry's hips to buck.

Alex's long fingers began to pump in and out matching the rhythm of the undulating hips.

Kerry clasped the detective's shoulders. Her moans were insuppressible. Eyes tightly closed her head rocked from side to side as the impending orgasm threatened her body.

"Look at me Kerry." Alex whispered in her ear. "I want you to see me making love to you." Alex stroked the blonde's swollen clit with a thumb. "Will you come for me?"

Kerry whimpered and nodded.

"Tell me. Tell me you'll come for me." Alex gently commanded. Her thumb continued it's tortuous stroking as the two fingers started to slam into Kerry's hot sex.

The words alone almost sent the smaller woman over the edge. "Mmm…uhhh…yes. I'm…ahh…coming. Fuck YES!" Kerry cried out.

Alex rode the waves with her while her hand slowed down to a gentle penetration. She kissed a soft cheek and laid her head next to her.

Kerry turned and began sobbing into the dark woman's neck.

Alex instinctively wrapped her in a safe embrace. "It's okay. I've got you," she whispered tenderly.

As the tears dried, green eyes looked into blue. A small hand caressed a sculptured cheek. They shared an endearing and exploratory kiss.

The young woman grazed an erect nipple causing Alex to moan into her mouth. Fingers began to tug and twist the nipple eliciting another moan from her dark-haired lover. Moving further down she encountered drenched dark curls. Her fingers slid through the folds and right up into her destination. Breaking the kiss, Kerry bit down at the tendon along the strong shoulder and sucked on it gingerly.

Alex cried out from the instant sharp pain and the incredible flooding of wetness it has caused. Her hips moved in rhythm with Kerry. Her grunting and panting became more erratic. A determined mouth swallowed her right breast, and she reached the edge quickly. "Uhhh… Ahh…god Kerry!"

They lay there for long moments caressing each other.

Kerry spoke first. "I've…never…felt a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g like this." She laid her head on the pillow next to Alex. Looking into cerulean eyes, she said, "It was like…like…oh I don't know if I even know the right words. It seemed like everything you did was an act of worship. That's why I cried. You made me feel so beautiful."

Alex stroked her cheek with the back of her knuckles. "You are beautiful --- so beautiful in the midst of ecstasy; and so beautiful when your body tenses then completely let's go. I just had to feel every inch of you with my hands and mouth." The fire of passion ignited in her eyes once again. She leant forward to capture sweet lips. Tongues danced and slid against each other. A moan rumbled through the strawberry blonde as Alex lay on top of her. Breasts brushed against one another and this time Alex moaned into the young woman's mouth. Gently pulling away from the kiss, she said, "I've got to have you again."

"Take me Alex. I'm yours." Was the response given.

The undertone of those words struck Alex to the very core. She moved down her neck to nip and suckle while her fingers lightly pinched and rolled hardening nipples.

Kerry arched her back and ran her fingers through short raven locks of hair. She knew the tall woman's ministrations were causing the throbbing at her clit, and she craved some kind of release.

After leaving the nipples above a shade of scarlet Alex moved further down between the young woman's legs to the top of golden curls. She rubbed her face into the fine hairs inhaling the sweet light scent of arousal. As soon as the blonde spread her legs wide and bent them at the knees, Alex tenderly pushed the outer lips further apart and witnessed a glistening pussy. She slowly licked the inner folds tasting the sweet nectar of her lover's desire.

Kerry cried out from the exquisite contact. This was the first time anyone had touched her in such a delicious way. Knowing about oral sex in the past, she had yet to experience it for herself.

Alex delved into Kerry's hot center, her tongue, an eager, probing piston.

The blonde's hips rose in the hopes of getting more of the tall woman's tongue inside her.

Soon, two long fingers coated in Kerry's thick juices replaced the detective's tongue. Moving up a notch, Alex flicked her tongue at an aching nub causing Kerry to spasm. As her fingers plunged in and out, she sucked in the hard nub between her teeth and stroked it firmly.

"Ohhh…gods. Oh…it…feels so good. Ahh…yes!" Kerry pressed the dark head into her. "Gods…harder. P-l-e-a-s-e. Fuck me harder!"

Alex lost all control with the small woman's confession. She started to slam into her curling her fingers up each time she pulled out. Grabbing the clit firmly with her teeth, she pulled and wiggled her head as if she intended to rip the little nub right off.

"Ungh…ALEX…AHHH!" Kerry collapsed back onto the mattress, after the most powerful orgasm she experienced, ripped through her core.

The tall woman crawled up wrapping her in strong arms once again. She kissed the crown of the damp blonde head, and buried her face into a warm neck.

After a few minutes, emerald eyes fluttered open, "Goddamn, I'm so weak."

"Rest now little one," Alex responded.

They both fell into Morpheus' realm.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/alex_the_cat_aed.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Postovi: 4523
Pridružen/a: 23 srp 2011 11:44
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 11 kol 2012 23:41

Srednji vijek..viteške borbe... borba za prijestolje...intrige


Freedom’s Heart
by Amber

Suddenly, one of the look-outs gave a piercing cry and fell from his lofty roost. Kaleah and the bandits sprung away from the fire, startled. Even before the man had hit the ground Kaleah saw the wooden shaft firmly embedded in his chest. Her hand went instantly to the hilt of her sword, but she looked around before she drew it, unsure of the direction of the threat. Another look-out fell from his post, similarly slain.

The bandits reacted with the same speed they had displayed earlier, only now Pete was shouting orders, realizing his last words to Kaleah weren’t as true as he might have wished. The men had just managed to form a loose ring facing outwards when the forest erupted with sound and movement. Over a dozen mounted figures charged into the clearing from all directions at once, yelling war-cries and lowering lances as they came.

Still, Kaleah didn’t move. She crouched low, hand ready to draw her weapon. She was in the middle of the bandit ring and not that eager to die for these men. Several of the bandits were struck down by the lances, then chaos broke out as the battle was joined.

Crouched seemingly calmly in the center of the fighting, Kaleah looked around for an escape route. A few of the men chose to flee but were cut down by the mounted cavalry. She saw Pete and another grimy outlaw manage to yank one of the soldiers from his horse, but the armored knight proved just as dangerous on the ground as off it, slicing the chest of one man before clashing blades with the bandit leader.

It was then Kaleah noticed she wasn’t the only one holding back from the fight and simply watching. Just outside the clearing, a young woman with golden-blonde hair mounted on a grey horse surveyed the writhing field of combat with intense interest. The woman wore men’s clothes and carried a sword, but even at a distance Kaleah could make out her curvaceous, muscular figure. She looked like a peasant, but her calm appraisal of the bloody battle made it clear she was something more.

Perhaps sensing the scrutiny, the figure suddenly turned her head, and their eyes locked.

Time seemed to stop.

The sound of the fight around her disappeared.

The breath suddenly left Kaleah’s body and her heart skipped several beats as the intensity from the young woman’s gaze struck her an almost physical blow. Kaleah realized she could clearly make out every feature of the woman’s eyes even though they were some way away. She could tell they were a brilliant, clear green color, like wet emeralds . . . but more than that, somehow she could see the tiny flecks of gold that sparkled in their depths. She could see the hint of merriment and joy that caught the suns feeble rays through the forest canopy. For an instant she was gripped by a sense of recognition so powerful it froze her mind and scrambled her thoughts, making the battle fade away and become a distant thing of no consequence.

In that instant, something powerful and ancient inside Kaleah stirred for the first time in a lifetime. She felt a gentle presence engulf her senses . . .

. . . then settle into her soul as though reclaiming long-familiar territory.

The battle intruded on the moment, however. Though her mind and soul were otherwise occupied in this bizarre dance of emotions, Kaleah’s body was still tuned to the fight raging about her. One of the armored soldiers - apparently having lost his mount - saw her unmoving form and figured on an easy target.

Even before his sword was raised, Kaleah erupted into motion. Her seemingly paralyzed arm drew the slender blade from her side, the steel singing in pure delight at finally being released. Sidestepping a professionally executed stroke from the knight, Kaleah twisted gracefully and sent the tip of her weapon arcing towards one of the gaps in the plate armor behind the man’s knee. She felt the steel blade tear into flesh, then quickly pulled back and spun away, her defenses raised.

With a cry of pain, the man spun around, his discipline slipping instantly with the pain of his injury. Kaleah ducked a few wild swings, knowing she didn’t have the strength to lock blades with the knight. When another gap appeared in his defenses, the dark woman pounced with another lightening strike, this time to his right shoulder. Unbalanced, the knight went down easily when she whirled again, lashing out with her leg to trip him.

Her enemy subdued, Kaleah turned back to the mounted woman, her heart beating strangely fast as though eager to make up for the moment it had stopped doing what it was supposed to do.

The young woman was grinning now, emerald eyes dancing playfully. Her smile was infectious and Kaleah found herself returning it unconsciously. The battle was at it’s fever pitch however, and she knew if she was going to make good her escape, now was the time to do it. Effecting a courtly salute to the young woman, Kaleah tore her eyes away and, quickly finding an opening, made a break for the denser parts of the forest.

As she ran, Kaleah wondered idly why she felt like she should be headed in the other direction.

Jessica watched with a grin as the dark-haired stranger raced off into the woods. The young woman was still a moment as she tried to analyze the waves of feeling that had swept over her when she met the stranger’s gaze. It was that portent thing again, she was sure of it. Those piercing blue eyes framed by fine, arching dark brows had sent shivers through Jessica’s body unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Checking briefly to make sure her father and his men were doing okay - which, of course, they were - the blonde woman guided Andromeda around the clearing and began to give chase.

Jessica thought she should feel disappointed — she hadn’t had the opportunity to fight anyone yet. The blue-eyed stranger and that weird but powerful sensation had stopped her just as she’d been about to jump into the fray. But she knew the bandits were all of poor skill, no challenge to her at all. Her prey now was something much more special.

The dark woman’s skill was obvious in her poise and the professional way she had moved. Her father’s men were the finest warriors in the region, yet the stranger had defeated one of them with only a few accurate hits, and none of them lethal. An armored knight was difficult to bring down . . . Jess knew from experience. The almost casual way this woman had done it was amazing.

Eyes brimming with glee and heart racing excitedly, Jessica weaved her horse through the thicker trees as she angled slightly away from her prey . . . she wanted to head the woman off.

This one quarry was worth all the other bandits combined, and Jessica was determined to catch her.

Kaleah ran as long as she thought was prudent, not wanting to tire herself out in case she needed her strength. Still, when she eventually paused in a small clearing, her breath came in short, painful gasps and a stitch burned in her side.

The battlefield was a fair way behind her, though she heard a few cries as the last of the bandits were defeated. She felt no shame in running away - pride was something that had been beaten out of her at a young age, and while it had started to return with her freedom it wasn’t nearly strong enough to make her want to fight to the death for a bunch of low-life’s and ne’er-do-wells she’d just met.

Looking around, Kaleah tried to get her bearings. She’d lost her bow thanks to this encounter, and she swore softly to herself in Spanish. Hunting would be harder now, she knew. Without the bow . . . well, she’d just have to get another one. Having caught her breath, the dark-haired woman started wondering which direction she should head.

A polite cough from her right interrupted her thoughts. Kaleah whirled about, sword raised and ready . . . and was startled to find laughing green eyes gazing back at her.

The girl was barely ten feet away, sitting calmly on a fallen log as though she’d been waiting for Kaleah to arrive. This close, Kaleah could see that the woman was younger than she first thought . . . eighteen or so at most. She had long blonde hair that was tied loosely in a braid, and her features were fresh and beautiful, with a mouth that seemed to smile easily and high, rounded cheek-bones. The torn sleeves of her shirt exposed smoothly muscled arms, and as she rose to her feet Kaleah acknowledged that, although only short of stature, the girl moved with a feline grace expressive of carefully controlled power.

The girl eyed her with an expression of curious amusement, and Kaleah flushed at the frank and open perusal.

"Were you going somewhere?" the blonde asked lightly. Kaleah noticed her voice carried a slight hint of the sing-song accent she’d heard in this country from time to time. She also noticed - somewhat uncomfortably - that the girl’s hand rested with a cool familiarity on the fine rapier sword that dangled from a rope at her side.

"I was just leaving," Kaleah answered shortly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously over the hilt of her own sword. "This fight has nothing to do with me."

"Really?" The blonde seemed a little surprised. "You were with those men, weren’t you?"

"I just stopped to share the fire and a little food," she corrected. "I wasn’t with them."

The blonde shrugged. "I only have your word on that," she said, taking a step forward. "Maybe you’re lying . . . if I let you go and you hurt someone, it’ll be my fault for not stopping you."

Kaleah gave a feral grin. "It’s not like you have any choice, girl," she said, waving the tip of her sword in tight figure-eight’s. "I’m not going to come peacefully, and I doubt you’ll be able to force me, so . . ."

She stopped as the young woman drew the rapier, performed a formal salute, and assumed an en guard position with fluid skill.

One eyebrow arched in disbelief. "You must be joking?"

The girl shook her head and smiled, her eyes dancing playfully. "I’m taking you back to my father," she said firmly. "I can’t let you get away."

"This is not a game, little girl," Kaleah threatened carefully. "I won’t be captured."

The blonde advanced in a practiced motion that made it clear she knew what she was doing. "I’m not playing a game."

"I don’t want to hurt you." Kaleah backed up a step.

"Don’t worry." The girl’s lips quirked into an almost smile. "You won’t."

Kaleah scowled, not liking where this was going. She genuinely didn’t want to hurt this young woman who had affected her so strangely back at the bandit camp. Even now she could feel her stomach tighten as those intense green eyes bore into her own blue ones. But capture was not an option. She’d sworn never to submit to the collar of servitude ever again when she was granted her freedom.

Assuming an en guard stance herself, Kaleah waited grimly for the girl to make the first move.

The attack was sudden and flawlessly executed. Kaleah defended it with barely a thought, however, then instantly pressed in against the young blonde. She feinted high, performed a dazzling spin then thrust the tip of her sword at her enemy’s thigh. She wanted to disable, not kill . . . and she wanted to do it quickly so she could get away. Unfortunately, her adversary was more canny than she thought. Ignoring the feint, the girl easily defeated the attack and stepped back, smiling confidently.

Kaleah frowned, then let fly a few testing jabs just to see how quick the girl really was. Every thrust was foiled with ease, but Kaleah didn’t have time to grow worried before the blonde apparently decided it was time to take the offensive. Kaleah’s blade flashed about her in a defensive cage, watching for any feints and realizing the young woman was feeling her out. . . testing her skill and speed.

Kaleah let the play continue for a few minutes before, without any warning, she launched herself into a blindingly intricate routine that had never failed to bring down an enemy. Her Spanish blade whipped through the air in a flashing silver arc, twisting suddenly in mid-flight along a confusing and unpredictable path. Steel rang against steel as the girl fell back under the furious onslaught, her own blade weaving somewhat desperately to defeat the unexpectedly swift routine. Kaleah fully expected to at least disarm the girl; she was disconcerted when she broke off the intricate attack to find her adversary still armed and barely breathing hard. The slight smile on her face told the former slave the young blonde was actually enjoying this fight . . . before the girl launched herself forward with an answering attack of her own.

Kaleah managed to keep away from the flashing blade — barely. She was tired from her run; her vision was starting to go a little strange. And this scrap of a girl was proving to be a better fighter than she’d anticipated.

As the duel wore on, Kaleah’s concern grew stronger. This girl was good . . . very good. Too good to be just another common soldier, and much too good to be the peasant she appeared to be from her attire. Thinking for the first time that she might actually loose, seeing again the horrors of her life as a slave, Kaleah pressed her assault with savage skill and speed, her discipline starting to slip.

The attack was vicious and would have cut any ordinary soldier off at the knees. As it was, when the blonde girl leapt away trying to break from the furious assault she was breathing heavily. Kaleah saw a look of curious wonder cross the young woman’s face and she followed green eyes to her enemy’s arm. Kaleah’s sword had managed to hit at least something; a deep cut was etched across the young blonde’s thick bicep muscle. The wound didn’t seem to bother her, Kaleah noticed with annoyance. She just smiled and saluted again.

"First blood is yours, it seems," the girl said, flushed but still grinning. Then without further comment, she dove back into the fight.

Now Kaleah was getting more than worried. Her opponent was fast and strong, and possessed a greater endurance than she’d expected. Kaleah was no fool. Although a talented swordswoman herself, she recognized that this slip of a girl was far her superior. Real fear began to flow like ice through her veins.

She was going to loose!

Her hold on her temper - never strong to begin with - finally snapped. With a cry of anguish and hatred, Kaleah lunged at her enemy blindly, desperately, now striking with the intent to kill.

She felt the blow across her thigh as her attack failed and she was struck. Her armor prevented blood from being drawn, but it still hurt. In a rage now she leapt forward again, hoping to overpower by sheer force of will.

Again the blow was defeated, and this time she watched as the hilt of the young woman’s sword slammed with dizzying speed into her temple. The world exploded in blinding pain and Kaleah lost all sense of balance. She fell to the ground, fighting the blackness that rose to swallow her, willing her limbs to continue fighting. Dimly she heard a voice yelling at her to stay down but she ignored it. Stumbling, she rose again and staggered forward, determined to kill, her blue eyes blazing.

The next hit knocked her to her knees . . . the one after it brought the darkness over her like the soothing waves of the ocean.

Jessica knelt beside the dark woman’s still form, her expression thoughtful. She checked for a pulse and found it strong and beginning to even out. Good. She didn’t want this stranger dead — just a little more manageable.

Carefully, she reached out and removed the sword from her fallen opponent’s grasp. Inspecting it with a professional eye, she realized it was of surpassingly fine quality. The blade was forged of rare Spanish steel and polished to a high finish. The hilt was ornate, layered in sparkling gold leaf and crafted to resemble a string of roses. Jessica admired it a moment before laying it gently at her side, wondering how the woman had come by such a rare and valuable weapon.

Wiping the blood from her captive’s face with the back of her hand, Jessica felt a pang of guilt over the bruises that were rising quickly. The damn woman just wouldn’t stay down! Even when she’d clearly lost, she kept trying to fight on. Jessica frowned and wished she hadn’t been forced to resort to such measures to subdue this spitfire.

Now free to allow a more intimate inspection, Jessica let her fingers linger over the scar that slashed across the woman’s lips, cupping the woman’s cheek with her hand while running her thumb over the old wound. From there, her fingers swept across high, sharply defined cheek-bones to trace the elegant, sweeping eye-brows. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered that feeling of familiarity that had washed over her, acknowledging that it only increased her interest in this strange, exotic woman. Physical contact seemed to renew the feeling a little, and Jessica - always a touch sensitive person - allowed her hands to linger longer than she knew was proper.

The woman wore fine armor that had clearly been made especially for her. The single-piece leather-and-mail suit fit over her slender form well, allowing her to move, but protecting her from edged weapons. It also, she acknowledged privately, showed off the woman’s curvaceous figure to maximum effect. Soft doe-skin trousers hugged her shapely legs in a similarly provocative but practical design. The chain-mail was oiled and clean, and the leather was fresh and dyed deep green and brown to blend in with the woodland. Again, this didn’t make sense if the woman was a bandit. The average thug didn’t have coin to spend on tailored armor or fancy, foreign swords. The mystery grew a little deeper.

Looking at the deep bronze skin revealed by the cut of the armor, Jessica saw many scars on the woman’s arms and chest . . . scars she could not identify as having been inflicted by conventional weapons. They looked almost like the wounds that might be sustained from a severe beating. Perhaps the woman was an escaped slave, she thought. That would probably explain her desperation to avoid capture. But still, where did she get the armor and the sword . . . not to mention the skill with which she wielded the blade?

"Who are you?" she muttered to herself as she stroked her fingers again over the slashing scar on the stranger’s face, the gesture already seeming familiar.

Thinking quickly, Jessica considered what to do next. The woman fascinated her and she wanted very much to know her better. She realized a large part of this desire stemmed from the fact that she hoped to relive or explain that extraordinary sensation the dark woman had created before — the sensation that still tingled through her soul. But she knew that her father - while he would never dream of hanging a woman - would likely sentence her to a term of indenture, probably in the garrison with the soldiers, functioning as a cook or servant. She frowned. That wouldn’t do at all. No. Jessica wanted custody of the woman all to herself.

The fact that she was the one to apprehend her would add weight to her plea. Her father loved her, and would probably be easily swayed. Her mother, however, was a different story altogether. A devoutly religious woman who felt only the nobility were of any worth, Lady Rose would be shocked and appalled at the thought of her daughter’s desire to keep company with this barbaric creature.

Jessica frowned. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Hoof-beats sounded suddenly behind her, drawing closer. She turned and saw Sir Miles approaching on his massive war-horse. Andromeda nickered a welcome to her stable-mate.

"What happened?" he asked as he leapt from the saddle, noticing quickly the slashing cut across her arm.

Jessica glanced down at her bloodied arm. "It’s nothing. Look, the bleeding’s already stopped." She waved him away with a negligent gesture, her attention on the fallen woman.

"That’ll need stitches," he observed, insisting on checking the injury.

Jessica submitted to the inspection with ill grace. "We can do that back at Da’Gran," she said. "Can you help me get her on your horse?"

Miles glanced at the dark-haired, blood-stained figure on the forest floor. "My horse!? Why do I have to be the one to carry the blasted woman?"

"Andromeda can’t carry both of us," Jessica pointed out calmly. "It’s okay . . . she’ll be out for a while, I think."

Sir Miles examined the bruises. "Hit ‘er pretty hard, did ye?"

"She wouldn’t stay down," Jess explained regretfully. "I had too."

"Aye." Miles knew she wouldn’t inflict violence without need. "We takin’ ‘er back with us then, huh?"

Jess nodded. "She put up a hell of a fight . . . she’s someone special."

"Oh?"

"Just look at her sword . . . and the armor she’s wearing." Jessica pointed, her hands straying quickly over the woman. "She’s no common bandit, that’s for sure."

"I guess. Perhaps she stole ‘em."

Jess gave him an amused look. "You know better than that, Miles," she said. "That armor’s custom made . . . I wonder who gave it to her . . ."

Miles saw the expression on his young protege’s face and recognized it instantly. He rolled his eyes and groaned.

"What?" Jess looked at him, puzzled.

Miles smiled a little. "Reckon ye’ve found another damn bird with a broken wing, girl," he said softly, ruffling her hair with his good hand.

Jessica blushed. "It’s not like that . . ." She knew what he was talking about. Ever since she was a little girl, Jessica had been bringing home every wretched creature she found that needed care or shelter . . . much to the exasperation of her parents. She looked at the unconscious woman as she stirred, then settled, remembering the feeling she had experienced again. "But she’s mine. I caught her, and I get to decide what to do with her." The look in her eyes and the possessive tone in her voice made it clear she was serious.

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=560 ... eart1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 13 kol 2012 00:27

Ujedinjeno Kraljevstvo ...Drugi svjetski rat...

~ 1941 ~
by Anex

Rose felt her heart clench painfully in her chest her eyes began to sting with unshed tears. "No." She whispered finally and pressed her hand up to her mouth as she began to cry; she was then startled to find Katherines arms embracing her tightly.

"Please hold me." The taller woman sobbed too.

So Rose did what she had wanted to do the moment she laid eyes on her. They held on to each other as if their very lives depended on it. There was something profoundly comforting about being in each others arms. Everything suddenly felt peaceful, warm and secure. After several minutes Katherine found her voice.

"I don't want to lose you Rose, please don't pay any attention to what my mother says. She just wants to control me and everyone around her… That's why I have to leave."

"Leave? I don't understand."

"He's here."

"Who?"

"Captain Harrington."

Rose felt her heart lurch with envy and she pulled back questioningly at Katherine. "Your fiancé?"

Katherine looked down unable to take the weight of Roses searching eyes.

"Mother's planning to announce our engagement tonight at the ball, it's her way of controlling me."

Rose could literally feel her soul breaking as she suddenly realized the truth of her own heart. "Do you love him?"

"I could never love a man like that… or any man." She added in a small whisper.

They looked at each other for several long moments. Rose could see an unspoken question flicker across her friends face.

Suddenly Katherine seemed to steel her resolve and pulled away. "I'm leaving here for good." She was determined.

"Oh Kate…" Roses eyes brimmed with fresh tears. "What are you going to do?" She cried her words sounding desperate but she didn't care anymore.

"I've decided I'm not going back to Oxford, instead I've enrolled at the Royal College of Nursing in London. I'm catching a train first thing in the morning." She drew a long tremulous breath. "I wish things could've been different…" She smiled sadly and droplets of water fell from her cornflower eyes.

Rose didn't know what else to do she was petrified and confused and in a moment of spontaneity or madness (she would never know which) she reached for Katherine and drew their lips together.

It was like discovering the meaning of life.

After several heartbeats Rose pulled back, almost reeling from the sensation. "I'm sorry… I… it seemed like the right thing to do."

She blinked and watched as Katherine's eyes fluttered open, a slow smile crept across her lips and before Rose could draw another breath she felt Katherine's velvet soft mouth upon her own again.

There was no room now to doubt how they felt about each other. Rose had never kissed anyone fully before this - there were a few adolescent fumblings behind the Astoria picture house with a couple of local boys - but nothing had prepared her for this, not even in her wildest dreams had she thought this kind of feeling could exist.

Katherine's hands cradled the back of Roses head urging her to deepen their union, Rose instinctively parted her lips and sighed in rapture as Katherine's tongue plundered the soft warm cavern of her mouth. It was a spiritual and physical awakening for the younger woman; the dawn of her sexuality had arrived and warmed her skin like the rays of the sun. She flourished under the tender ministrations of Katherine's touch. The heat penetrated her very core and created a delicious sensation of arousal that inspired her to seek more. She hungered for something she couldn't define but all too soon the taller woman pulled away.

"Rose… we have to stop." Katherine rasped heavily her eyes hooded with longing but she was now showing an enormous capacity for self restraint.

"I can't stop…" Rose moved to resume their kiss but Katherine held her fast by the shoulders.

"Please, we need to talk about this..." The taller woman implored.

"I love you." Rose impulsively spoke those three immortal little words for the first time and Katherine was instantly undone.

"I love you too." She almost sobbed as once again their lips met in a fervent almost desperate kiss. Their connection was undeniable, their bodies pressed firmly together hands began to roam freely to discover what was there to be discovered. The word love seemed quite inadequate to describe the actual feeling.

"I wish…" Katherine sighed after they finally broke apart.

"What?" Rose whispered, her lips still tingling with the feeling of her lovers kiss as she brushed them lightly across her smooth elegant neck and throat; she could feel her pulse pumping rapidly like that of a small bird. She inhaled the unique scent of her, like wild jasmine on a summers eve; evocative, exotic and highly intoxicating. Rose wanted to be lost forever to this feeling.

Katherine shuddered at the sensation of Roses lips upon her. "God… I wish we could stay like this forever." Her voice was deep and sensual.

"You mean you're still going to leave… even after this?" Rose stopped what she was doing and looked up into those pale eyes which seemed to hold fear in them now whereas moments ago they showed only desire.

"I have no choice, I've already signed up for my training."

Rose almost fell backwards in disbelief and Katherine had to move quickly to hold her.

"No, you can't go!" Rose put her hand up to stifle a sob. "I need you, I want you…" Her throat closed around her words and she couldn't finish them.

"It's only four years, and I'll come back as often as I can… I promise." Katherine drew Rose into an embrace that held the world for both of them. She wondered if she had done the right thing now by leaving, had she perhaps acted too impulsively in order to thwart her mother's plans. "Hush now, don't cry… please don't cry. I have to do this, I cant stay here." She soothed. Maybe there could have been another way. But on the other hand she too wanted to serve her country in it's time of need. To languish in the relative comfort and safety of her privileged life had seemed wrong to her. This gave her a new found purpose and meaning.

"I'm sorry, I have no right to ask you to stay." Rose conceded finally as they parted she turned away and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper.

"You know it will be difficult for us to be together here anyway." The taller woman's eyes brimmed now too.

"I know." Rose said in a small voice. The convention of their relationship was suddenly becoming clear to her now too. "I meant what I said Kate, I do love you…" She smiled in spite of herself and turned to look at Katherine before continuing. "I remembered… what you said by the lake, about you understanding the concept of love, well, I understand it too… and I realise I just can't bear the thought of being without you… when I'm with you it's like I suddenly feel alive, and when you're not here I feel so…"

"Empty." Katherine finished knowingly and caressed the side of Roses damp cheek with her palm. "It's exactly how I feel." She reached for her and Rose did the same and they held on to one another tightly. Katherine placed a small kiss atop Roses flaxen hair. "I loved you from the moment I saw you." She whispered. "I just knew you were the one."

They fell silent, each wishing they could live their whole lives suspended in this one perfect moment of togetherness.

"You'll write?" Rose asked eventually accepting their fate.

"Every chance I get. And as soon as I can get leave I'll come straight back." Katherine promised emphatically. "Will you see me off from the station tomorrow?"

The smaller woman simply nodded her agreement unable to voice her reply.

Katherine placed the tenderest of kisses upon Roses swollen lips before slipping away into the night.

Early the next morning they bid a tearful farewell at Monmouth station. The whistle blew and the guard called for all aboard. Katherine leaned out of the window clutching Roses hand as the train pulled away in a cloud of steam. They didn't speak, they just looked into each others eyes and saw more than a thousand words could ever say. Rose followed as far as the platform would allow and stood alone until the last carriage was out of sight. And she couldn't help but wonder if this was perhaps the last time she would ever see Katherine again.

The early winter frost was bitter and hard first thing in the morning. Rose began her day breaking the ice in the water troughs with a shovel. She wondered where Sam had disappeared to. He should have been splitting leaves of hay and filling the racks ready for the morning feed.

"Happy birthday!"

She almost leapt about six feet in the air as Sam suddenly appeared and thrust a small parcel at her.

"Jesus Sam I almost had a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry." He looked scorned and immediately Rose smiled widely to reassure him.

She took the proffered object that was poorly wrapped in newspaper from him and thanked him warmly with a hug.

"I made her just for you." He added enthusiastically.

Carefully she unwrapped the present and gasped in genuine delight when she saw what it was.

Intricately crafted out of a small piece of English cherry it was a perfect replica of Tessa, Sams faithful border collie dog.

"She's beautiful." Rose turned the carving in her hands to study the detail. "Thank you Sam, I'll treasure her always."

"It's Tessa." Sam said proudly as he patted the actual dog sitting faithfully beside him. Tessa was a gift from Rose and Mary. They were inseparable friends now and it warmed her heart to see them happy together.

"Yes, I can tell." She gave the lad a peck on the cheek and he blushed furiously. "How did you know it was my birthday?"

"Mrs Stevens told me, she's baking a cake for your party tonight and… oh, I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Please don't tell her I told you, it's a surprise." He begged rather upset with himself he had let the cat out of the bag.

"Don't worry Sam I won't tell." She promised.

Roses nineteenth birthday was not something she had planned on celebrating. Mary always made a fuss about birthdays. Rose would have preferred to just let it slip by. In any case the one person she had really wanted to celebrate it with could not be here and so it didn't seem worth celebrating.

Since Katherines departure Rose had tried to get on with her life, but not a moment went by when she didn't think about her. She haunted her dreams both day and night almost to the point of distraction. But what she most looked forward to were Katherines letters and occasionally a phone call. The word up at the house according to Millie was that Lady Helen had been so distraught and humiliated by her daughters sudden departure she had disinherited her completely. This news greatly upset Rose, she could not understand why a mother would be so cruel to her only child. Katherine on the other hand seemed indifferent almost to the point of gratefulness to be released from her bonds.

Her mood however had lightened considerably after Sams gift and she spent the rest of the day with a definite spring in her step.

After supper Mrs Stevens produced a sponge cake lighter than air and bursting with strawberry jam and fresh whipped cream. Even Mr Stevens joined in singing 'happy birthday'. Rose blew out the single candle and wished only for one thing; that the war would end and return Katherine safely into her arms.

Mary had knitted her a long and colourful scarf which was gratefully received.

"There's just one more thing." The jolly farmers wife said reaching behind the clock on the mantle she produced a letter.

Rose held her breath as she took it. Instantly she recognised the hand, it was from Katherine.

5th November 1941

My Dearest Rose

I do hope this reaches you in time for your birthday, I wish I could be there to celebrate it with you. I'm sure Mary is spoiling you rotten though. I just wanted to say… Happy birthday my love, I miss you terribly. I pray the end of the war is in sight and that we can spend eternity together.

Yours forever

Kate xxx

Rose read the letter to herself with everyone looking on in anticipation of a few words.

"She sends her love and wishes she could be here." Rose gave a strictly edited version and tucked the precious piece of paper into her trouser pocket.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Who could that be at this time?" Mr Stevens grumbled as his wife got up to answer it.

"Goodness what a surprise!" Mary gasped from the hallway at the unexpected visitor.

She quickly came back into the parlour where Rose, Sam and Jack all sat waiting on tenterhooks to see who it was.

"Look who's here!" Mary exclaimed and stepped aside.

"Kate!" Rose leapt up and flung herself at the tall woman. They clung to each other, fighting the urge to press their lips together in a passionate kiss. "Missed you." Rose whispered into the starched white collar.

"Happy birthday, my love." Katherine whispered back.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/anex_1941.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 13 kol 2012 21:24

Priča o nekoj vrsti vremenskog prolaza (ogledalo koje služi za prijelaz iz suvremenog razdoblja u prošlost) ...Francuska građanska revolucija...

~ Reflected Passion ~
by Aurelia

I can stay away no longer. She has teased and tortured me for the last week, shamelessly flaunting her sexuality in front of me, knowing full well that I am watching her. Those bedroom eyes and that 'come hither' voice, low and hypnotic, call to me across time and space.

I stand before the mirror, watching her sleep. The curtains of the canopy bed are drawn aside, her tall, lithe body lying in quiet repose. I am spellbound. I have seen her body, for she has shown it to me many times, and it is burned into my psyche.

My fingers reach out to touch the solid surface, the barrier that separates me from her, and it gives way, allowing my hand to slip through. It shocks me that the surface has surrendered and it's an unexpected turn of events. My thoughts have now moved from dream to reality and the ramifications are now life-altering. I pull out my hand and examine it, looking for any ill effects of the experiment and I see none. I test the glass again.

I consider my next move. Do I go to her and risk not being able to return, or do I stay behind this mirror, forever wanting what I have forbidden myself to have? This is a momentous choice. I am contemplating giving her what I have given no other woman in my twenty years. I know this is a rash decision, but I am unable to stop myself.

I go to the kitchen for coffee, as my mind presents its case like a well-oiled debate, each side marshalling arguments for and against such a move. In a trance, I watch the clock slowly tick on, unable to decide who to award the win to. Perhaps that is my problem. I'm thinking too much with my head and not enough with my heart.

I know I am not sleeping well. The circles under my eyes deepening with every night's missed sleep attest to that fact. I am anxious, irritable and preoccupied with her. There is no choice in this. For my sanity, I have to go. I wash my coffee mug and return to the mirror.

I know that she sees me in the mirror as I see her. She has brazenly moved the mirror to overlook her bed so that I have an unobstructed view of her, or perhaps it is so she can watch me. I gather my courage and step through the glass with a certain amount of hope that I can return…

The room is in semi-darkness, lit only by the dying fire in the fireplace. I am cold and it takes me a moment to realize I am naked. I peek back through the mirror to see my clothes scattered in a pile on the floor. Well, now I know. Only I can come through, nothing else.

I put a couple of logs on the fire, trying to warm up my chilled skin. The embers burst into flame with the addition of fuel, casting flickering shadows around the high walls. I walk towards the bed and stop, afraid of coming closer. Her dressing gown is draped over a nearby chair and I reverently lift it to my nose, smelling a scent I had only dreamed of in my fevered imagination.

I put it on to cover my nakedness, feeling it slide over my skin. The scent drifts up to my nostrils, laying a cloud of swell-smelling perfume to waft around me. Slowly, my body warms to the feel of the soft lace, taking away the goosebumps that dot my skin.

I stand there mesmerized. Now that I am in the same room as her, I can see clearly every line and curve of her, her soft skin unblemished by makeup. She is much younger than I had anticipated - perhaps no more than 25 to 30 years old - so young, for a mistress of the house.

She shifts in the bed and I hold my breath, fearing that I will wake her up. Her body rolls towards me and I stand still, trying not to disturb the air flowing around me. She settles and I release my breath, wisps flowing gently over my parted lips. Before I have finished that single breath, her eyes open and watch me, pinning me in place.

There is no movement of body between us, only our eyes. Darkened orbs skim over me, leaving tingles in their wake. She hesitates and I know that the apparel I am wearing is not closed, the loose cloth hanging from my breasts, acting like a curtain of its own and hiding what I know she wants to see. I can see her mind filling in the details that are hidden in shadow, her gaze memorizing every detail of me.

Those eyes return to my face, not wavering, as she slowly pushes away the covers. A slow, predatory smile crosses her face, the full rose lips spreading into full blossom, as she watches my eyes return the favour. Her body is covered in soft linen and lace and I am not able to see what she is offering me but, unlike her, my mind can effortlessly fill in the gaps. She knows what I am thinking as if it is imprinted on my forehead.

"Who are you?" That deep, dark voice that has tormented my dreams, spoke. I am surprised that I understand her. Perhaps I wish to hear her speak French, the language of love, for that is what she speaks to me. In the throes of her passion, she has spoken directly to me, her tongue lovingly rolling over every syllable as if caressing it. Oh yes, she may have been having sex with someone else, but she was loving me.

I make no reply, but stand there dumbfounded. She sits up and moves her feet to the floor, lightly perching on the edge of the mattress. "Do you have a name?"

My name? What's my name? All thought has flown under her intense regard of me. Hesitantly, I step back, trying to keep distance between us. She stands and I feel myself having to look up. She towers over me by a good six inches and the force of her personality fills every corner of the room.

"Don't be afraid, little one." Afraid? I am terrified. She swamps my senses. I feel myself stepping back towards the mirror, searching vainly for myself. "Don't go."

Not today, perhaps tomorrow. I step back through the mirror, safe that the barrier is between us. She approaches the mirror, picking up the discarded gown and brings it to her nose. The smell brings a smile to her lips and our eyes meet, filled with promise for another day.

Those vibrant blue eyes slowly slide down my now naked body, gliding over my skin like a lover's caress. My secret is now out; she has seen me as I have seen her.

http://www.xenafiction.net/scrolls/aure ... ssion.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 15 kol 2012 00:23

Jedna od mojih omiljenih autorica...strast i romantika :touched:

KARA’S MOON

by Gerri Hill

They stood there, the silence nearly deafening as they both looked out over the lake. When Ginny turned, Kara's eyes were on her, and her own lifted and met her questioning stare. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Kara tried to find the answers in her eyes but failed.

Ginny touched a hand to her chest, feeling the tightness, wishing her heart would slow to normal. She felt the pull between them and wondered if Kara felt it, too.

"Too many trees," Kara finally managed.

Ginny nodded but her eyes never left Kara's. She was quickly losing the battle with herself and she took a hesitant step toward Kara.

"Ginny?"

"Show me," she whispered. "I need to know." She saw Kara's jaw clinch nervously and she wanted to put her hand there. "Please?"

Kara shook her head. "Ginny, don't," she warned. "You don't know what you're doing."

Of course not but that didn't stop her as she reached out and captured Kara's warm hand. "I want to know," she said softly. "Kiss me."

Kara felt the last thread of sanity flee at those softly whispered words. Her eyes dropped to the lips that were so inviting. Yes, she knew she should stop this, she knew she should walk away. But she couldn't deny herself the pleasure.

Ginny felt Kara pull her towards her and she went willingly. When Kara's hand touched her face to guide her, she closed her eyes and waited for Kara's lips to touch hers.

"Ginny," Kara whispered again and Ginny felt Kara's breath, warm on her face. She turned towards it and when their lips met, it was not slow and gentle. It was hurried and hungry and Ginny's mouth opened under hers and she whimpered softly when their tongues touched briefly for the first time.

Kara pulled her in close, dropping her sketch pad to the ground and fitting Ginny's body with hers, feeling Ginny's breasts press against her own and she lost what little resolve she had. Her hands slid to Ginny's hips and she cupped her roundness, pulling Ginny flush against her as Ginny's trembling hands moved over her shoulders and around her neck.

"Yes," Ginny breathed against Kara's lips and her tongue explored Kara's warm mouth, pushing past her lips. Soft lips, not a man's lips. She was on fire.

It was magic. Their kisses were hot, wet and Ginny felt unfamiliar desire pool between her legs and she moaned softly against Kara's lips. Kara started to pull away, but Ginny followed, refusing to release her, all thought gone except these insane feelings that this woman created in her. Kara's lips softened and now they moved with exquisite gentleness over her own and Ginny felt her legs threaten to collapse as Kara cupped her face between her hands and touched her lips again and again.

"Ginny," Kara whispered when she finally drew back. "Why?"

"You know why," she accused. Ginny lowered her head and buried it against Kara's chest, her breath coming fast between her parted lips. "I just . . . had to know," she whispered.

Kara tipped her chin up and looked deep into her eyes. "And now you think you know what it's like to kiss a woman?"

"Yes," came the whispered answer.

"And are you curious, too, as to how it would feel if I touched your breasts?"

Ginny took in a deep breath, afraid to answer as Kara's hands slid dangerously close to her breasts.

"Do you want to know?" Kara whispered and she bent again to take Ginny's mouth, which opened instantly to her tongue. Her hands stopped, the tops just brushing the swell under Ginny's breasts.

"I'm so afraid of what I'm feeling," Ginny whispered, although her body begged for Kara's touch and she pressed closer, feeling her nipples harden at the thought of Kara's hands on them. In the early twilight, her eyes sought Kara's, trying desperately to make some sense of her feelings.

Kara's hands trembled. It would be so easy, she knew. One more kiss, one touch. But she heard the fear in Ginny's voice, could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"You should be afraid," Kara said finally and pushed Ginny away, nearly causing her to stumble. She stepped back, her hands brushing her hair from her eyes. Jesus. What are you thinking? What are you doing?

"I'm so sorry," Ginny whispered, her own hands trembling as they wrapped around herself. "I never should have asked."

Kara turned her back to Ginny, needing time. "Why are you sorry? It's not like I didn't want to kiss you."

"I don't know what to say, Kara. I'm sorry . . .."

"Please stop saying that. I'm the one who . . .."

"No." Ginny swallowed with difficulty. "I've been thinking about you," she admitted. "Thinking things I shouldn't." She took a deep breath and turned away. "I can't stop . . . I mean . . . you're thinking I'm just curious, aren't you?" she asked.

"I don't know. Are you?"

Ginny touched Kara's arm and turned her around to face her. "Maybe. I've never really thought about being with a woman before," she said. Her mind refused to bring up Renee. "Until I met you."

Kara laughed and shoved her hands inside her pockets to stop herself from reaching out to her. "Well, if you're thinking of experimenting, you'll have to look elsewhere. I'm not really into that." She jerked up her sketchpad and began walking back along the trail and Ginny followed, running after her.

"Kara, wait. I need to talk about this."

"Well, I don't," Kara snapped. Stupid, stupid fool, she cursed herself.

"You don't understand," Ginny said, trying to keep up with Kara's long strides.

"No, I suppose I don't," she said.

"Goddamn it, will you stop," Ginny shouted.

Kara stopped and turned around, her eyes angry. "What?"

"I know what you're thinking," Ginny said.

Kara laughed without humor. "Oh, I seriously doubt it."

Ginny stared at her, her thoughts gone suddenly as she saw the desire still shimmering in Kara's eyes. It scared her more than she thought possible.

"Don't play with me," Kara warned softly.

"I'm not," Ginny said. "I'm sorry."

"Because you don't know what you're doing," Kara continued, her voice now gentle. "I want you. But then, I guess you already know that."

Ginny nodded weakly and she was frightened by the look in Kara's eyes. But more than that, she was frightened by what her own might reveal.

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=355 ... moon1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 15 kol 2012 23:00

Predivne bajke Malinde Lo - Ash i Huntress

Huntress
by Malinda Lo

Chapter XXVI
They spent two nights at Mona’s cottage. Taisin showed Con and Kaede the book of fairies, and they pored over its yellowed pages for hours. By the second night, Shae’s fever was gone, but she was
still too weak to travel. When Mona offered to shelter Shae until she was recovered enough to return to Jilin, they knew they had to move on. Midsummer— and their appointment with the Fairy Queen —was less than a fortnight away, and they had no idea if they would arrive in time. Con lingered by Shae’s bedside on the morning of their departure. She drifted in and out of a drugged sleep, and all he could do was hold her hand.

“We’re coming back,” he whispered, as much for himself as for her. His eyes were hot with suppressed tears. “I promise you.”

They left Shae’s horse behind, along with her gear and a tent, but they took all the remaining food
supplies. There wasn’t much, and Kaede began to wonder if she would have to attempt to hunt on her
own. She felt extremely vulnerable now, traveling only with Taisin and Con. The two days at Mona’s
cottage had been a reprieve from cold reality, but now, as they made their way down an overgrown trail
that surely hadn’t seen human traffic in generations, that reality returned. They had lost their leader in Tali. They had lost Pol and Shae, who knew how to survive in the wilderness. Now they were only three,
and Kaede was terrified that the Wood might demand another sacrifice. They took care to stay within sight of each other at all times, and Kaede carried Pol’s bow across her lap. She watched Taisin’s back as they rode, wondering what she was thinking. She had been a little distant since the wolf attack, and it made Kaede anxious. What if the things that Taisin had done to those wolves had changed her? There were warnings, rules against using the energies to harm any living being. But had she done anything worse than what Kaede had also done, using Pol’s bow? When the time came for Taisin to perform the protection ritual around their camp, Kaede was tense, wondering if there would be something different in Taisin tonight. And when Taisin’s fingers pressed firmly against Kaede’s chest, something had changed. But it was not what Kaede expected. There was a new strength to her; there were no hesitations in her movements. And the connection that had grown between them was still there. It had slackened a bit in last few days, but now it tightened again. Perhaps because of Taisin’s new confidence, today the connection opened up, and for the first time, each could see a tiny part of the other. In the breathless moment before Taisin realized what she had done, Kaede saw some of the truth that Taisin was hiding from her. Taisin was falling in love with her—the emotions were as clear and hot as a summer sky. But beneath them was the bitter tang of fear. When Taisin broke the connection, Kaede staggered. She was overjoyed, but she was also confused. She reached out for Taisin’s hand, but she had already turned away to finish the ritual. When it was done, her face was a carefully controlled mask; she would not meet Kaede’s eyes.

Con saw the tension between them, and he came to Kaede as Taisin put away her supplies and asked, “What happened?”

Kaede looked up at him, dazed. She couldn’t tell him. She wasn’t even sure what it meant. And had
Taisin seen her own feelings as well? She reddened to think of it.

“Kaede?”

“It’s nothing,” she said. But her heart hammered in her chest, and she trembled as she went to light
the campfire.

In the middle of the night, Taisin woke Kaede to take over the watch, shaking her shoulder gently. Kaede pushed herself up, and Taisin pulled back. Con was asleep in his bedroll on the other side of the lowburning fire, and the trees arched above in a rib cage of bare branches. Kaede fumbled for words.

Her mouth was clumsy, fogged with uneasy sleep. “What did—tell me—”

She half expected Taisin to flee from her, but when Taisin remained where she was, her face pale and tense, Kaede tried again.

“Why—why are you afraid of your feelings?” she whispered.

Taisin bit her lip. She looked away from Kaede; she looked down at her hands; they twisted together
as if she were trying to weave a rope around her wrists. She said something so softly that Kaede could not hear it. Kaede pushed aside her blankets, leaning toward Taisin.

“You can tell me.”

Taisin touched Kaede’s cheek very gently. Her fingers were cold. Kaede reached for her, but Taisin drew back, flushing. Kaede waited. Taisin’s eyes, reflecting the firelight, looked like tiny burning stars.

Finally she said in a low voice, “I’m going to be a sage.”

“I know that.”

“I can’t—I can’t be with anyone.” Her words were full of regret. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The misery in her voice made Kaede ache. She wanted to ease Taisin’s pain, but she had no idea
how. Taisin turned away, wrapping her blankets around herself, and then lay down with her back to
Kaede. The distance between them, though it was only a few feet, had never seemed so great.

http://bitsnoop.com/huntress-287-q24631908.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 17 kol 2012 00:57

Opet jedan povijesni...američki građanski rat...

Southern Comfort
By T.Novan

I hear the rumble. Could it be thunder? I look out the kitchen window, the sky is clear and the sun is shining brightly. No, it isn’t thunder. I move to the front of the house wiping my hands on my dress. As I open the heavy oak door of my home I see immediately what is causing the noise. I draw a deep breath, eyeing the rifle in the corner then look back to the northern troops riding onto my property. It would be shear suicide on my part try walk out onto the porch with a gun in my hands. Hell walking out on the porch period could be suicide, but I have endured enough at the hands of northern soldiers and I have decided I won’t endure any more.

I close the door behind me as I step into the sunlight and wait. A Union Captain makes his way over to me. He stares down at me from his horse. "I’m Captain Montgomery and our troops will be staying on your land for a few days to rest and regroup."

"Just like that?" I ask as I shade my eyes from the mid day sun.

"Just like that. If you cooperate we’ll leave your place in one piece. If you don’t it’s hard telling what will happen."

I hear a strong deep voice fire up from behind him. "Captain!"

The man whirls around in the saddle then comes to attention as another man in a dirty but neat uniform rides up next to him. "Colonel!" He snaps a salute, which is returned by the dark haired man. "Sir I didn’t expect you for another three days."

"Apparently not." The Colonel returns the salute then dismounts his horse. "Did I just hear you threaten this lady?" The Colonel turns to me and smiles.

I couldn’t help but let a little smile cross my features as I took in his wonderful grin and those startling blue eyes.

"Umm well…Sir I was just trying…." The Captain stammers.

The Colonel drops the reins of his horse and takes two long strides to me. "Ma’am did the Captain threaten you?"

"No more than any northern officer has in the past Colonel."

"Well now Ma’am I am sorry for those others and I assure you that it won’t happen while I’m here." He takes another step toward me removing his hat and gloves. "I would like to rest my troops on your land Ma’am, just for a few days. They are in need of fresh water and baths. We have our own supplies and we won’t be taking anything you might have here."

"I don’t have much Colonel, Union forces have already seen to that." I want to be difficult and bitter at this man, but for some reason I just can’t do it. Maybe it is the fact that he is being civil and not treating me like southern trash. Maybe it is his haunting good looks. Oh did I just think that? How on Earth could a southern woman find a northern officer attractive?

"Ma’am if you tell me to take my men and leave I will. No harm will come to you or your property. I promise you."

"No Colonel you can stay. If you’re on my land I won’t have to worry about something worse coming along. At least not for awhile." I turn and go back into the house. Leaving the Yankee Colonel standing on the steps holding his hat in his hands and tapping his gloves on his leg.

I can’t help but watch from the kitchen window as these men take up most of the land on my plantation and start making their camp. This is one of the biggest groups of men I’ve seen moving through the area in awhile. It gives me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I watch as the Colonel moves his men around arranging the camp to his liking. I notice that his command tent is set up rather close to the house. I don’t know whether this makes me feel safe or nervous.

I also can’t help but notice how good-looking he really is. He is truly the most handsome man I have ever seen. Well over six feet tall, his dark hair is clean and neatly cut, his skin is tan and those eyes, oh those eyes. He has the most enigmatic blue eyes I have ever seen.

He carries himself with a certain grace and charm I have never seen in a man. Not even in our most refined southern gentlemen. Maybe I have simply been without the company of a gentleman for too long. All of the men are gone now of course. Every man from the age of sixteen to sixty has been called to fight. Presidents’ Davis and Lincoln certainly have managed to make a mess of things.

He seems to treat his men well, this Colonel. A sharp contrast from the other officers that have come through here recently. He genuinely seems to care about his men as I watch him stop by the infirmary to check on the wounded. I see him as he takes the time to stop and speak with each one, then he speaks with the doctor. I know now that he is an important man in the Union Army. He has a real doctor in his ranks. So many don’t and a lot of men die because of it.

I watch as he nods then glances up to the house. He raises his hand in a gesture of agreement to the doctor then turns for the house. I go back to trying to clean up what is left of my home as I hear a knock at the back door. I take a deep breath and move to the door. The Colonel smiles at me through the screen.

"Yes Colonel?"

"Ma’am," He smiles at me a little. "I have a wounded man here who really needs to be taken out of the heat. Would you have any room in your home for a wounded man?"

I want to laugh in his face, but I can’t. "Colonel I am a single woman trying to survive. I would be crazy to tell you no. You’ll just take what you want anyhow."

"No Ma’am I won’t. If you say no…." His head drops a little as he glances back at the doctor giving a slight shake of his head.

"Will the cellar do?"

"Ma’am?"

"Are you deaf Colonel? I asked if the cellar would do for your man?"

"Why yes Ma’am it would. It would be perfect."

"Well the cellar is empty. You may use it. The door is on the side of the house."

"Thank you Ma’am."

"Colonel?"

"Yes Ma’am."

"Would you by any chance have any bread you could spare? I’m out of just about…."

"Of course. I’ll bring it up myself after we get my injured man settled. Is that all right?"

"Yes Colonel thank you."

I watch him return to the doctor and give him his orders. Soon I can hear the doctor and a few other men making a spot for the injured man in my cellar. If any-one ever finds out about this I’ll be hung for giving aid and comfort to the enemy. It almost makes me glad I’m the only one left here.

I check the larder to see exactly what I do have left. There’s not much here. I hope the Colonel is good to his word and his men leave me with what I had when they arrived. A short time later there is another knock at my door. I return to find the Colonel with a bundle in his arms. He smiles at me through the screen door.

"The bread you asked for ma’am."

I unlatch the door and push it open. He hesitates, then steps inside setting the bundle on a small table right inside the door.

"Thank you sir."

"You’re welcome Ma’am. It is the least I could do. There’s some fruit and cheese there as well."

I notice as he turns to leave a small red stain on the shoulder of his tunic. "Colonel?"

"Ma’am?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Ma’am?"

"You are deaf aren’t you? I asked you a very simple question. Are you hurt?"

He glances back as if trying to look at his own shoulder. "It’s nothing Ma’am."

"Colonel if it were nothing you wouldn’t be bleeding through your coat. You should have your doctor look at that."

"My doctor has men out there with real wounds and he’s already overworked."

"Then come here and let me look at it."

"Ma’am?"

"I swear you’ve been stuffing good southern cotton in your ears," I take him by the arm and pull him inside, he drags his feet a little pulling back like a nanny goat. "Colonel I don’t bite. Come here and sit down."

I finally manage to get him to sit down. As I turn to fetch a pitcher and a bowl I have to smile. He acts as if he’s never been alone in a room with a woman before. It’s really kind of sweet the way he’s acting. It has been a long time since I had company around here.

"Take off your jacket."

"Ma’am I’m okay really I am." I watch as he gets to his feet.

"Colonel you know as well as I do that men have died because of small wounds. Now would you want your men to be left to that Captain of yours if something were to happen?"

"Un…I…well…."

"Take off your jacket."

He gives me a hard stare as he begins unbuttoning his tunic. After he pulls his tunic free he holds it in front of him in his arms. He looks extremely uncomfortable there at the table with his jacket. He finally drops his head as I walk around behind him.

I gasp a bit as I look at the shoulder wound. It is old and infected. It is in a place where he most certainly couldn’t get to it easily. His shirt is torn and bloodied.

"How?" I ask as I try to gently pull the material from the wound. I feel him flinch a bit as the material comes loose, taking some of the infected skin with it. "I’m sorry."

"It’s okay."

"How?"

"It’s war Ma’am you don’t want to know."

"Colonel if I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t have asked."

He sighs as I begin trying to clean the wound. "Last week we encountered a small band of renegade soldiers. I took a bayonet in the shoulder."

"A southern solider did this to you?"

"No Ma’am the renegades were northern soldiers."

He remains quiet as I clean and treat the wound. The only sign of discomfort is the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. I stitch up the wound as best I can, adding healing powder to the bandage before applying it to the wound.

"There you’re done. Now that wasn’t too bad was it?"

He just shakes his head as he gets to his feet. "Thank you Ma’am it feels better already."

"Take off your shirt and I’ll clean and mend it for you."

"Ma’am?"

I just shake my head as I approach him. The man definitely has a hearing problem. As I move forward reaching for the buttons of his shirt he starts backing away.

"Unhh Ma’am I appreciate the help with my shoulder but…."

"Hush Colonel. You need the protection of the shirt so the bandage won’t come loose. Besides it’s so hot out today you must be uncomfortable in your tunic. I’ll only take…."

"Really Ma’am you’ve done more than enough." He continues to back away from me. Unfortunately for him he isn’t paying attention and he backs himself right into a corner. When he realizes where he is, he gets a truly panicked look in his eyes a sweat begins breaking out on his forehead. "Really Ma’am I’m fine."

I watch as he scoots around me. I take a deep breath as he makes for the door. "I know. You don’t have to be afraid."

He stops dead in his tracks as he turns around to face me. He cocks his head slightly. Or I should say she cocks her head slightly. I nod and motion her back into the house. "Close the door and take off your shirt so I can wash and mend it."

Slowly she closes the door. She turns to me, "How did you know?"

"I saw the bindings under your shirt."

Her head drops a bit. "They’ll…umm…they’ll either hang me or throw me in prison if you turn me in."

"I’m not going to turn you in. I’m going to wash and mend your shirt."

"Why?"

"Because it’s dirty and torn."

"Why aren’t you going to turn me in?"

"I’ve done what I’ve had to do to survive this war Colonel and I assume you’ve done the same thing. You are at least a real Colonel aren’t you?"

She laughs a little as she nods. "Yes Ma’am I am. Colonel Charlie Redmond."

"Charlie is short for Charlotte right?"

She nods again. "But my enlistment papers don’t say that."

"I’ll just bet they don’t." I gesture to her. "Take off that shirt. You are about my brother’s size I’ll get you one of his."

I make my way upstairs to my brother’s old room to fetch a shirt. No wonder the Colonel was being so kind to me. As I pull the shirt from the closet I retrieved a pair of trousers as well. May as well wash the entire uniform. I’ll bet she hasn’t had a bath in days if not weeks. I sigh as I head back downstairs for the bathing room.

"Colonel could you come here please?" I call from the bathing room. "Down the hall last door on the right."

I hear the heavy foot falls on the wooden floorboards of the house. She certainly walks like a man, clomping through the house in heavy boots.

I step back inside pulling two large towels from a cabinet along with my mending kit. I turn to find her in the doorway. "I thought you might like a bath."

She looks down at the steaming water and literally licks her lips then her eyes dart back to me. "I don’t know…I mean…."

"Colonel Redmond I have taken the time to haul water and heat it up. The least you can do is show me a simple courtesy by using it."

I watch as she steps into the room. A huge smile breaks across her face. "Yes Ma’am it’s the least I could do."

"And stop calling me ma’am. I have a name. It’s Rebecca."

"Rebecca. I like it."

"Well that’s good because I don’t intend to change it anytime soon Colonel Redmond. Now get out of those dirty clothes and enjoy that water while it’s hot."

She nods her head and moves into the room. I draw the shades to give her all the privacy she needs, lighting a lamp to lighten the room. She sits down on the chair next to the tub and gives a tug to her boots only to groan as she tries to pull them off.

I move over and kneel down in front of her. "You’ll rip those stitches, let me."

"Thank you."

I pull her boots off and the torn socks that barely covered her feet. I noticed several blisters on her feet and ankles. "After your bath I’ll tend to those too. Now enjoy that water. I’ll be back in a few minutes."

When I return to the bathing room she is settled into the tub. She is so settled into the tub she’s sound asleep. I couldn’t have been gone more than a quarter of an hour. Now she looks ragged and tired, as she lies there reclining back in the tub. I kneel down and wet a cloth, soaping it up first. "Colonel Redmond." I whisper as I continue to lather the rag.

"Hmm?"

"Wake up Colonel."

Her eyes open slowly. As she looks at me I can see many years of sadness in them. "I’m sorry Rebecca. The water just feels so good."

"I’m sure it does. Lean forward let me wash your back. You need to keep that wound clean."

She leans forward wrapping her arms around her knees, I moved to her back shocked to find it crisscrossed with what I recognize immediately as whip marks. They are old and have long ago healed. "What happened?" I can’t resist running my hand over them.

"I took a beating for a young Negro boy about two years ago."

"Why?"

"He was going to be beaten for something he didn’t do. They accused him of stealing food."

"And you say he didn’t do it."

"No."

"How do you know he didn’t do it?"

"Because I gave it to him. His family was starving and he just wanted a little food for them. He wasn’t a very good thief. I gave him the food and tried to get him out of camp. They caught him."

"So you took the beating?"

"He was a ten year old boy trying to feed his family." She lays her forehead on her knees I carefully wash her back as the tears sting my eyes. There is so much nobility in this person. As I watch her now I can see the horrible toll all that nobility is taking on her body and soul.

I rinse her back and gently pull her back so her neck rests in my hands. "I’ll wash your hair."

"I can do that."

"Let me." I lower my voice as I move closer to the edge of the tub. "Let me take care of you Colonel. You need it and you deserve it."

"I don’t deserve anything Rebecca. I’m just a solider doing my job."

"You can tell yourself that all you want. You believe what you want and I’ll believe what I want. I believe that you deserve it."

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=680 ... mfort.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 17 kol 2012 22:23

16 predivnih knjiga o San Franciscu, LGBT svijetu i naravno kao i uvijek neizbježna ljubavna priča

I Found My Heart in San Francisco (Book 1: Awakenings)

By: S X Meagher

As the class settled noisily into their seats, Professor Linda Levy scanned their faces. Not bad, she thought. At least there are 3 men.

"May I have your attention, please?" 20 mildly expectant faces gazed at her. "Welcome to Psychology 197-The Psychology of the Lesbian Experience. My name is Linda Levy. I'd like to get some housekeeping matters out of the way and then I'll give you an overview of the class. If we have time I would like each of you to introduce yourselves. I should warn you though, that this class is very interactive. If you're looking for a quiet place where you can sleep in the back row for 3 hours a week, you've come to the wrong place!"

Jamie closely regarded the professor. She was a small woman, about Jamie's height-5'4" or so. She was fit and trim and wore chinos with an attractive print silk blouse in shades of tan and brown. She had a warm smile and lively twinkling eyes. Her wavy chin length hair was parted on the side, and there was a sprinkling of gray in it. Jamie guessed her to be somewhere in her 40's although she had to admit that she was not terribly good at guessing ages.

Linda walked from row to row and handed out 3x5 cards. "I would like you to give me a little personal information on these cards," she stated. A number of giggles hit some of the women. "It's not necessary to give me that information unless you think it is relevant," she replied with a laugh of her own. "I suppose we should tackle that little issue right away," she said as she perched on the end of the large wooden desk situated at the front of the room.

"I am now, and I have always been a practicing lesbian," she said with another twinkle in her eyes. "However, lesbianism is not a pre-req for this course. I'm sure that will relieve you guys," she said as she pointed at the 3 men sitting near one another. "This class deals with the psychological issues that may be encountered by a group of people who have in many ways been marginalized by society. We will be undertaking this survey with the eyes of scholars-...not participants. This is not a 'How to be a lesbian' course. You do not need to declare your sexual orientation to the rest of the class. The class usually turns out to be predominantly lesbian, but I not only welcome heterosexuals, I really encourage straight people to take the class. It is the people who are not part of the peer group who can have the biggest impact on changing societal perceptions," she stated with conviction.

Jamie was relieved by this little explanation. I think I'm going to like this, she thought rather happily.

Linda continued, "On the cards I would like you to give me your names, phone numbers and a general idea of when you are available to do outside projects. I want to pair up class members based on their time availability to make it easier for everyone."

The class worked on their cards for a few minutes as Linda watched. Well, they look a little less nervous now. This looks like it might be a good group.

Jamie worked on her card-neatly writing her relevant information on the white rectangle. She indicated her home number and just to be thorough she included Jack's number with the words 'fiancés home number'. Well, it doesn't hurt to get that out of the way right from the start, she thought

Linda looked quickly at the cards as they were turned in. Oh, that's cute, she said to herself as she saw Jamie's card. It always amazes me how people get those little tidbits of information in, she thought wryly as she noted that Jamie had somehow mentioned that she possessed a fiancé. She tried to match people's availability and was pleased that she was able to do so fairly easily. "Okay people, I'm going to write down partner names on the board. After we do our introductions you'll be able to find each other."

She strode to the board and began to write the 10 pairs. Jamie saw her name go up on the board next to that of Ryan O'Flaherty. Oh, great, she moaned to herself, I take a class in lesbianism and I get paired up with a guy. Well, at least he won't assume he can hit on me, she thought hopefully. Unless he's the type who thinks lesbians are hot, she thought suspiciously. God, Jamie, get a grip! Yesterday you were afraid of the women and today you're disappointed that you're with a man!

Linda returned to her perch on the front corner of the desk. "Okay, let's get to work." She launched into a rather lengthy speech on how the course was developed, how long she had been teaching it, and how it fit into the curriculum for psych majors.

Jamie was pleased with the way the course was organized. This could really be interesting, she thought. I know so little about lesbians-and that's a liability in San Francisco. That's like living in L.A. And not knowing anything about the beach!

Linda looked at her watch and noted with surprise that the 70 minutes was just about up. "I apologize for going on so long," she said. "If you don't mind you can try to find each other after class to meet your partner. I'll see you all on Wednesday morning and we can discuss some of the class projects."

Well, at least I have it easy, thought Jamie...there are only 3 guys. She approached the first and tentatively asked, "Are you Ryan?"

"Nope," he replied, "I'm Todd." The other two men were Demitrius and Mike. Jamie was at a loss. The rest of the class seemed to be more successful and were all busily exchanging info. As people began to drift away Jamie noticed one lone figure sitting quietly. She was idly twirling a ring on the surface of her desk and did not seem to be in any hurry to find her partner.

Jamie approached her from the back and asked, "Are you Ryan?" with a hint of exasperation in her voice.

The dark head turned and she was nonplussed to see the most dazzling white smile she thought she had ever encountered. "Well, if I wasn't before, I am now," the beautiful woman answered with a little tease in her voice as a terribly sexy grin lit up her face.

Jamie blushed all the way to the roots of her blonde hair. The woman unfolded herself from the desk that was obviously too small for her long frame. She extended her hand and Jamie mindlessly parroted her. "I'm Ryan O'Flaherty," she said, flashing that smile again. Jamie knew that it was her turn to speak, but for some strange reason she felt unable to. "And you are..." Ryan cast a quick look over at the chalkboard, "Jamie Evans?"

"Oh, right, I mean yes, I'm Jamie Evans," she heard her voice automatically respond.

"It's good to meet you, Jamie Evans," Ryan stated rather gravely.

Jamie knew that she should stop staring but she was unable to control herself. Ryan was probably the most beautiful woman she had even seen. She stood over 6 feet tall, with a sturdy but lean, muscular build. There was something very feminine about her body that the muscle paradoxically seemed to accentuate. Jamie guessed her jet-black hair was quite long even though it was pulled back in a ponytail and partially hidden under a backwards-black knit-driving cap. She wore a tight blinding white thick cotton T-shirt that hugged each of her ample curves and over that a black and maroon paisley vest. This topped a pair of well-faded 501's that looked like they were created specifically for her long legs. A pair of shiny cordovan penny loafers worn without socks completed her ensemble.

Jamie realized that she was still gripping Ryan's hand and immediately dropped it as though it was burning her. Ryan just continued to smile at her and Jamie found that it was very difficult to meet her penetrating gaze. When she finally forced herself to do so she was again shocked to discover the most dazzling pair of ice blue eyes that one could imagine. Jesus, she thought as she tore herself away from that intense gaze, how does one woman get this many perfect parts?

"Uh, Jamie did you want to exchange phone numbers, or arrange to meet, or something?" Ryan asked gently, stooping down at bit and moving her head around as she tried to make eye contact with her new partner.

"Oh, sure, yeah, that's good, um phone numbers...good," Jamie began to curse herself for her inarticulate ramblings. I'm an English major! she shouted at herself in exasperation.

With Ryan providing most of the leadership they finally exchanged their personal info. Ryan took down Jamie's number in a neat black organizer that Jamie noticed had a very busy schedule meticulously filled out. "When is the best time for you to get together?" Ryan asked.

"Well, I don't have a job and my bo.." Jamie caught herself and decided that she did not want this woman to know about Jack. "My time is pretty open," she finally stated without elaboration.

"Great. I'm pretty swamped, but weekday afternoons and weekend mornings are my best times," Ryan said. "My schedule is really kind of unpredictable, but I'm sure we'll be able to get together," she smiled that impossibly dazzling smile again and Jamie felt her brain once again begin to freeze.

"Where do you live?" Ryan asked with a small chuckle, as she unsuccessfully tried to hide a knowing grin.

Oh God, oh god! Jamie screamed to herself, she knows! She began to blush again and finally began to stutter, "Umm...I...ahh...."

But Ryan graciously took pity on her and removed her piercing gaze. She looked down at her organizer and tried again. "Do you live in Berkeley?" she asked casually.

"Yeah," Jamie breathed out in relief. "Really close to campus."

"Oh, that's good," Ryan said. "I live over in the Noe Valley, but I'm sure we could meet here. You don't have a car do you?"

"Car?" Jamie said as though this were the first time she had ever heard the word,

"Yeah, you know, a big metal object with wheels, let's you go places that your feet can't take you," Ryan said, as she mimicked holding a steering wheel.

"Oh, yes I do! I do have a car!" Jamie was outrageously pleased with herself for being able to get a complete sentence out without stuttering. She decided against all reason that she liked being teased by Ryan and began to loosen up a little bit.

"That's great," Ryan said. "I've got a bike but some people don't like riding on them," she added. Jamie dully wondered where on Ryan's bicycle she would ride, but banished that thought as Ryan once again extended her hand.

"I guess I'll see you on Wednesday then, okay?" those crystal clear blue eyes locked on hers again. Jamie felt her hand being engulfed by the much larger one and then gently shaken and felt her head bob a bit in response. Ryan dipped her head to make eye contact and winked playfully as she broke into another grin and turned gracefully to stride from the room.

Jamie felt herself slide limply into a desk. She dropped her head to the cool wooden surface and sat in puzzled confusion for a moment. Finally she lifted her head and asked herself in a befuddled haze, What in the hell was that all about?!

That night after a quickly prepared dinner of salads and soup Jamie and Mia sat cross-legged on Jamie's king sized bed. The room was spotless, as always. Mia did not understand Jamie's fixation on order, but she had to admit that it was really nice to be able to easily find things that she wanted to borrow. The room was generously sized and had a view of the small back yard. It was the biggest bedroom and it made sense that Jamie should have it since her mother had purchased the house. There was a deep eave over the back of the house and it kept the room cool in the summer, even without air conditioning. Because the room was at the right rear corner of the home there were windows on two sides that allowed for a great breeze most of the time. The room was decorated in bright shades of yellow with lots of white painted trim and a splash or two of marine blue. It gave the room a clean, almost nautical feel and the near constant breeze enhanced that feeling. There were two doors, one, to the wide hallway and another that opened to the tiled bath that Jamie shared with Cassie.

The only common wall was the one that bordered the bath. Jamie liked the sense of privacy that the layout provided her. Even though Jack had only stayed overnight once so far, it reassured her that her roommates could not hear any activity that might occur. Since Cassie spent most of her time with her boyfriend at his North Berkeley apartment Jamie had gotten used to the privacy and secretly regretted the nights that Cassie did sleep in the house.

"Just back up a minute there, Honeybunch," Mia commanded.

"What do you mean?"

"You, of all people, are taking a class called the 'Psychology of the Lesbian Experience?' Uh, Jamie, is there something you want to tell me?" Mia asked with a somber look on her face.

"Mia, you don't have to be a lesbian to take the stupid class," Jamie said with a bit of exasperation.

"No, Jamie, I mean, are you switching to psychology as a major?" Mia asked with a face full of sweet innocence. "Why would you jump to the conclusion that I think you're a lesbian?" again the innocent look. "That's a very odd reaction, Jamie," she said soberly.

"Very funny, Mia. You really should consider a career in comedy."

"No, really, James. Why would you take that class? I've never known you to be overly interested in our more androgynous sisters," she said with a glint in her eye.

"I'm not interested, per se, Mia. I needed an easy 3 hour class. I've not taken any other soft science so far and this one meets early in the morning, which is my favorite time of day. There is no final, just a bunch of special projects that I have to do with a partner. I only have to write two short papers, and I can use all the easy classes I can get this fall."

"Just how special are these projects?" Mia asked with a leer.

"Well, one is to participate in a bondage scene at a lesbian S and M club, and the other is to make a multi-media collage about cunnilingus."

Jamie was interrupted by Mia spitting a mouthful of Diet Coke all over her sleep shirt.

"Mia!" she shouted as she jumped from the bed, trying to hold the Coke onto her shirt to keep it from dripping onto the spotless carpet.

She scampered into the bathroom and emerged moments later to retrieve another oversized t-shirt from her dresser.

"Serves you right, Jamie. Don't make me laugh when I've got a mouthful of Coke. You know I have very little control over my reflexes," Mia told her righteously.

"Well, it was worth it to get you like that," Jamie admitted. "Normally I'm the brunt of jokes around here."

"Hey, did you say you have to do these projects with a partner?" Mia asked as Jamie resettled herself on the bed.

"Yeah, we got assigned partners today," Jamie replied casually.

"What's she like, James? Did she bring her big rig to campus or leave it idling out at one of the truck stops?" It was obvious that this was going to turn into a semester long joke.

"Why do you assume it's a woman, Mia, there are men in the class," she said smugly.

"Well, maybe you should order up some chromosome tests before you state that so convincingly, Jamie."

Jamie glared at her friend as she shook her head. "You know, Mia, as the professor said today, it's people like you and I who can make the biggest impact on getting rid of stereotypes about gay people."

"Aw Jamie, you know I'm just kidding. You've gotta admit it is kind of funny though, don't you?"

"I guess so," she finally admitted. "And for your information my partner is a woman named Ryan. We talked for a few minutes after class."

"Do you think she's gay?" asked Mia in a more respectful tone.

"Yeah, I'm sure she is," answered Jamie wryly as she blushed just a bit.

"Ohh, scoop, scoop, why are you so sure?" Mia smelled some dirt and Jamie knew she would never let go now.

"Well, to be honest I think she flirted with me," Jamie finally admitted.

"Jeez, Jamie, what do you expect? You're probably the hottest woman in that class and they can all smell fresh meat. They were probably drawing straws to see who got you!"

"Mia, you are being ridiculous! If anyone would be lusted after it would be Ryan," she said with conviction.

"Ooo, is she good looking?" Mia inquired

"Calling Ryan good looking would be an insult," Jamie stated with finality.

"Gee Jamie," she drawled, "maybe it was you who was flirting with her."

"That's not funny Mia. It really kind of made me uncomfortable," she stated, although she clearly would not tell Mia just how uncomfortable she had been.

"Maybe she wasn't really flirting, maybe she's just friendly," Mia supplied helpfully

"No," Jamie snorted. "I've been flirted with enough to know the difference, Mia. It was just like talking to a really good looking guy. You know the type. The guy who is just oozing with self confidence and has a really easy time dropping a line on you."

"Well, you know Jamie, you have 3 class meetings to drop it if you really don't like the vibes you're getting."

"I know, Mia. I don't think she meant anything by it. She just seems like the kind of woman who feels really comfortable in her own skin. And when I tell her I'm straight I'm sure she'll stop."

"What! You didn't tell her that you're straight?" Mia exclaimed.

"No, it didn't come up, but I'm sure it will when we meet on Wednesday. Don't worry, I'll make it clear that I have a really big boyfriend right down the freeway who I think could beat her up."

"Well, I'm sure that will be very reassuring to Jack," Mia said with a grin. "By the way, what does he think about you taking this class? I know Jason would want me to bring a cute one home for him to play with."

"Uh, we haven't really discussed my class schedule, you know how busy he is this year Mia, what with law review and everything."

"Uh huh, I see," said Mia suspiciously.

"Knock it off, will you? I'm sure we will discuss my schedule and then I'll tell him," she stated flatly. "It's really no big deal." Is it?

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=415 ... nings.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 19 kol 2012 00:19

Kratka priča o mladoj učiteljici koja noću zarađuje kao striptizeta u klubu.

~ Exposed ~
by Ronica Black

Tuesday

"Kyle and Cody! Your mom's here!" Gwen heard Wally yell out with his booming voice. She looked up from the paint by number she was helping some young girls with. Wally was standing by the sign out desk near the door of the elementary school cafeteria. His tall, well built fame was balancing from foot to foot, his arms were crossed over his chest and as he laughed out, she knew he was flirting with the attractive mother of two. She had known Wally a long time and she knew his style. She clenched her jaw with frustration.

Kyle and Cody quickly ran to the back pack table and scooped up their bags, one with Spider Man on it, the other with The Incredible Hulk. Gwen walked closer to the sign out table, suddenly very anxious about Wally's flirting. The twenty five year old man was her friend and he was not only attractive physically, but women were usually very drawn to his personality as well. These things were usually ok with Gwen, but not today. Not with this particular woman. She didn't want Wally flirting with this one. But more than that, she didn't want to see this woman flirt back.

Gwen had memorized everything about Kyle and Cody's mom from the first day she had seen her. She had been fascinated by the slightly older woman with the cat like hazel eyes and dark shoulder length hair. Her name was Beth and she was the mother of two of Gwen's favorite kids at the after school program.

"Mommy!" The two young boys pounced on their mother with fierce admiration and love. Beth held them both up and hugged them even though their weight was obviously straining.

Gwen caught herself staring at the trio. Kyle and Cody meant a lot to her and she always loved to watch the display of affection between the boys and their attractive mother. As she watched Beth set the boys down, Gwen allowed her eyes to travel up and down the woman's slender, rock hard body. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and turned away quickly as Beth looked up and caught her eyes.

"Do you have kids?" She asked the younger brunette with the stylish, short hair cut. The younger woman had turned away and Beth had always found her to be rather shy.

Gwen turned back and smiled nervously, thankful that the woman hadn't known what she had been really looking at. "No I don't."

The smile was returned, and Beth wished she could get the younger woman to talk more. As Gwen smiled at her, the older mother of two felt her heart rate pick up. Gwen was a breath takingly beautiful young woman. Light brown hair, green eyes, incredibly fit and curvy body. Beth cleared her throat as she realized she had been openly staring.

"Well, I'd say you've got about 50 kids to help keep you busy in the meantime." She smiled again at the younger woman and wondered if she had a boyfriend.

"Mom, will you play Game Cube with me tonight?" Kyle asked up at her.

"Will you play with me too, Mom?" Cody chimed in as both boys tugged on their mom.

Beth lowered her eyes reluctantly from Gwen to look at her boys.

"After homework." She answered, winning herself a loud groan from both boys. "You know the rules, guys." She said, tousling their hair. "Now, come on let's go get some dinner." At the words, both boys quickly turned and sprinted towards Gwen, each one latching onto a leg.

"Bye Miss Gwen."

Beth watched with added interest as her sons affectionately said goodbye to the attractive young woman. Her boys sure did love the younger brunette, and when her boys liked someone as well as they did Gwen, she paid attention. The caregiver had a goodness about her, and a warmth towards the children that radiated.

As Beth watched her boys shower the woman with their goodbyes, her thoughts turned briefly to what it would be like to date the younger woman. A heat spread through out her body as she imagined coming home to her. To find her helping the boys with their homework, to then have dinner together, and then to be able to take the young woman to her bed. She shuddered as she imagined Gwen waiting for her in the bed, completely nude with her most intimate areas purposely covered with the sheets. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to shake the powerful image from her mind. The thought was crazy and farfetched and she knew it. She could never expose her private life at the school, much less with the caregiver of her children. It would jeopardize the happiness of her boys, something she would never do.

She flushed at the thoughts and scooted the boys out the door, excusing herself with a quick wave goodbye.

Gwen waved back and watched the trio walk out the door. She walked up and glanced down at the sign out book, lightly running her fingers over the beautiful mother's signature.

"That…is one fine piece of pu-nanny." Her male friend let out under his breath just before he whistled.

Gwen didn't bother to look over at Wally. Instead she let her gaze linger at the door, the vision of the woman still very clear in her mind. Her alluring scent still floating in the air, tickling her nose, awakening her libido.

Wally nudged her a little, and she shook her head at her friend.

"I know." She managed to say as the taller man began to laugh at her obvious interest in the mother of two.

"You should go for it girl." He said, continuing to tease. He plopped down in the chair and placed his long legs up on the sign out table. "I knew you liked her. And you should, because I have taste."

He was eyeing her, waiting for her to punch him playfully in the arm or for a smart ass dig back.

But instead she stood in silence, not wanting to tease in regards to Beth. But she didn't know how to tell him that without revealing her strong feelings towards the woman. She studied her long time friend, unsure as to what to say. He sat there waiting, in his athletic shorts, t-shirt and tennis shoes. Eventually, she was released of the awkwardness as he turned his head and yelled at a young boy who was swinging his back pack at other kids.

"Brandon! Knock it off."

"Screw you, Wally." The eleven year old boy countered, dropping the back pack but not anywhere near the table where it belonged.

"Hey…time out now." He bellowed out. "That's right, on the wall buddy."

Brandon walked with his shoulders drooped over to the cafeteria wall where he sunk down to wait out his sentence, glaring at Wally all the while.

Wally then turned back to her and snickered a little. "He's why I'll never have kids."

"As if you need a reason." Gwen responded, knowing that her friend frowned upon anything that would tie him down. Especially children. In fact, she often wondered why he still worked with them. He had become more and more despondent with the kids the past year. Insisting upon the tasks that would keep him away from them, such as dealing with the parents at the sign out desk. At one time, she knew he had loved his job. The kids had awarded him the nickname Wally after he had made them watch Leave it to Beaver on T.V. as punishment one hectic afternoon. He used to love to joke around with the kids, but now she feared he was burning out.

"Hey, Gwen Stefani." She turned and watched Mike approach them from the playground exit. He was smacking his gum in his trademark way. And here comes the Beaver. She thought to herself with a laugh. "You gonna sing for me today, baby?" He continued to tease her, referring to her as Gwen Stefani, the lead singer of No Doubt.

"I told you you'll have to kiss Wally first. With tongue." She added. They were relentless with teasing one another, but they were always careful not to say anything inappropriate within earshot of the kids.

"Come to my party this weekend and I'll do it." He said, smacking Wally upside the head as he walked past him.

"You're having another party?" She asked with disbelief. The boy had a party every weekend it seemed.

"Yep." He said, adjusting his Nike visor so it sat crooked on his head. "Another naked party." Mike's naked parties were just what the name implied. No one admitted unless they were nude.

"Nice!" Wally said, clapping his hands together.

"You coming this time?" Mike eyed the attractive brunette, wishing his luck would win out this time and she would come.

"I'll think about it." She said, rolling her eyes, knowing she wouldn't show.

"Good enough for me." He said with a large smile and a wink. He plopped himself up on the table and swung his denim clad legs and his bright white K Swiss shoes. "Hey, did you guys listen to Stern this morning?" He asked as she started to make her way back towards the playground door. "He had this woman on there who could…"

"Nice!" She heard Wally call out as she left them behind. With three of them inside, she knew that left them one short outside. Something the guys never seemed to think about. She stepped out into the warm fall sun and daydreamed of Beth as her ears pricked to the happy sounds of children playing. As she made her way over to sit down on a picnic bench to watch the kids, she thought about how she wished she could get to know the attractive mother better. She had quizzed the boys casually from day to day, asking them standard questions, her curiosity always getting the better of her. And as it stood right now, she had learned that Beth was unmarried, had no boyfriend and that she was a "bone scientist." These revelations had done little to quench her thirst for knowledge about the beautiful woman. If anything, it had only increased her interest and her hunger for wanting to know more.

"Yo, Gwen. Logan's dad is here." Wally called to her over the walkie talkie. She picked up the megaphone next to her and called out for Logan who swung happily on the swings across the playground. As the boy jumped off, two young girls ran up to the table and snuggled up next to her, offering to paint her nails. With her focus back on the kids, the thoughts of Beth moved to the back of her mind.

Friday

Beth arrived that evening in a rush and a panic. She hurriedly helped the boys with their backpacks and looked worriedly at Gwen who was positioned not far from the sign out table, helping some of the kids color.

"I know this is last minute and strange but I'm in a bind." The attractive mother said quickly, her brow creasing with concern.

Gwen met her eyes, immediately attentive.

"Would you be able to watch my boys tonight? I would pay you of course. I'm really stuck here and my usual sitter bailed on me."

Gwen was at once startled by the proposal. And her heart raced as she realized that this was the perfect opportunity to get to know the boys and their mother better. She had been wishing for an opportunity such as this to arise. But she couldn't do it. Not tonight. She glanced down at the table as disappointment rushed through her.

"I'm sorry. I can't." She said, looking at the beautiful dark haired woman once again. And she was, truly sorry.

Beth smiled at her reassuringly. "Oh, well I had to try. I'm sure I'll find someone. Thanks anyways."

"I, happen to be available." Wally chimed in, winking at Gwen quickly before Beth turned to face him. Gwen glared at him, sending numerous daggers his way.

"No, not Wally." Kyle spoke up, sticking his tongue out at the tall man. "I want Miss Gwen."

The boys ran over to the young woman and began to hug her and beg, pushing out lower lips and batting puppy dog eyes.

"I'm sorry guys, I can't. Maybe some other night, ok?" She rubbed Cody's arms with reassurance.

"Sorry, Wally." Beth said, shrugging her shoulders. "My kids call the shots with their babysitters." She looked back to her boys and watched as they hugged the young caregiver goodbye. She smiled and tried to hide the disappointment she was feeling. For a brief moment her heart had swelled with the thought of returning home that evening and finding the beautiful woman curled up on the couch fast asleep with her boys. But now, as her little guys ran back to her, she wondered if the younger woman had a date. With her boys tugging on each hand, she frowned with the thought as she headed outside to her car.

As the girl next to her tugged on her sleeve, demanding her attention, Gwen wondered what Beth's plans were for the evening. The woman obviously was going somewhere on this Friday night, and it didn't include the boys. Her heart sank; maybe the attractive bone scientist was dating after all. As she absently began to help the kids color, Gwen tried to push the woman out of her head so she could concentrate on her other obligations. She had to work tonight, and she needed to start to mentally prepare.

The club that night was packed solid full with voyeurs. Most of them men, most of them already drunk when they walked in the door, having ventured from club to club on a Friday night. As long as they brought their money, Gwen didn't care who they were or why they drank the way they did.

She was there for one reason only. To take their money.

She had been dancing exotically for 2 years now and it paid very well. It paid so well, that she was down to dancing for just two nights a month, each night making enough to cover her rent and car payment for the month. Any extra she made went towards tuition for her Master's degree, as well as savings for a house. She was only twenty three and she had done fairly well for herself so far.

The dancing was just a job and she derived neither pleasure nor pain from strutting her stuff in front of men. When she was on stage, she turned into a machine. A dancing machine. The crowd full of sweaty men became a blur to her and then it was just her and the stage.

Sure, she got asked out all the time, but men held no interest to her. Most of the other girls at the club didn't date men either. They just used them for the easy money they forked out for a little ass shaking.

"Hey Gwen, guess who's out front?"

Gwen turned away form her reflection in the dressing room mirror and eyed the petite Jenny carefully.

"Who?" She asked, not really caring.

Jenny grinned at her with excitement and sat down across from her, ready to bust at the seams with the anticipation of what she was about to reveal.

"Ann." Jenny said, sitting up straighter, sitting on her excited hands.

Gwen jerked at the sound of the name, hating the way it made her uncomfortable. Jenny scooted closer to her and grabbed the black eyeliner pencil from her hand and then busied herself applying it on generously around her friend's green eyes.

"Are you sure it's her?" Gwen asked, trying to ready herself for the evening, and not appreciating the distraction Ann always provided.

"Oh yeah, it's her. And she brought friends." Jenny said with continued excitement.

Gwen moved her head at the statement and Jenny grabbed her face, steadying her, so she wouldn't poke her eye.

"Great, just what I need, a whole room full of Anns." She cringed as she thought of the aggressive bull dyke and her rough feeling hands.

"No," Jenny said, lowering the eyeliner to look at her friend. "Her friends are hot." She blew a large bubble with her gum as she shook her head in excitement.

Gwen thought for a moment and then turned to grab her blush, which she also handed to Jenny.

"Good, then at least you'll have some fun tonight." She remarked as Jenny sucked in the bubble with a loud whoosh. "Christ, I wish Ann would leave me alone. I'm not interested. Why can't she get that through her head?"

Jenny carefully brushed on the blush and examined her friend.

"Why does she get to you, Gwen? You don't bitch about the men who treat you the same way. Coming here every night you dance, asking you out, buying you gifts."

"Because I hold women to higher standards than I do men."

"Heh, well that's your own fault then. Women are better than men in most areas, I'll give you that. But when it comes to pussy, they can act just like men…aggressive and stupid and willing to do anything to get it."

Jenny finished with the blush and they stood as she snapped the back of Gwen's leather bra for her.

"Relax honey." Jenny said, rubbing her shoulders. "The woman likes ya. No harm in that." She turned the brunette around to face her. "Just smile and take her money." She said with a smile of her own.

Jenny gave her a quick kiss and left her friend alone to her thoughts.

Gwen stood in front of the full length mirrors and eyed herself carefully.

Her ensemble fit tight and the black leather pants showed off the sculpted muscles in her legs, while the bra pushed up her ample breasts.

She covered her leather bra and sculpted torso with the black leather jacket she slipped into and readied herself for the stage.

She stood clearing her mind, breathing deeply, ready to blur the crowd and leave herself all alone with only her mind.

She heard the seductive beat of Nine Inch Nails start up, followed by the deep voice of Bruce, their D.J.. She closed her eyes, awaiting the announcement of her name.

"And now, the one you've all been waiting for…The Citadel's very own. The lusciously lewd Lita!"

Gwen opened her eyes as she heard the crowd roar with applause and howling. Closer was her song and as she stepped out on stage, the crowd raised their level of noise with the recognition of Lita.

"Showtime" she said to herself with her back to the crowd. As she allowed the music to feed her soul, she turned with her head held high at her cue, and the crowd went wild. As she strutted down the luminous walkway, with her face held stoic, she could see the men jumping and hollering, waving their green money, while her mind blurred their faces, blurred their very existence. In part, that was one of the reasons why she was so popular. Her stripper persona was Lita, a tough biker girl who was rough with the men, treating them harshly as she ripped their money from their hands. She could look the men in the face and see right through them, her own minds way of protecting herself. She couldn't afford to see the men as human. It would taint the distance she so valued. It would make what she did too personal.

While Lita was a hard nosed bitch…the men absolutely ate it up.

As she clenched her jaw and allowed Lita to envelope her body for the first of the three acts that night, she stopped at the end of the runway and slowly unzipped her jacket. Her eyes scanned the blurring crowd, her mind focusing in on the green bills, waved in her direction. Each night she danced she followed the same routine. Not only with the dancing, but with how she worked the crowd. She went where the money was, concentrating her act in front of those who seemed to really want her there. The ones who forked out the most money. Some of the girls called it "milking." "Milk them for money, honey."

As she turned and walked, she flipped her jacket over shoulder and studied the best "milking" spots for that particular act. She worked her way around the entire catwalk, scanning the blurring faces, seeing right through the drunk and sweaty men. A cluster of people caught her eye and she threw her jacket aggressively aside and made her way to where the most money was. She stood directly in front of the shouting crowd and looked down upon them. While the faces were blurred, she could very easily make out the bust line of the large group of women. Taken aback a little, she quickly regained her composure as she realized this was the group that was with Ann, the loud butch that she could now here calling after her. As Gwen continued to move her body seductively, she counted the number of prominent busts she saw. There were seven of them. Seven screaming women, paying her to take it all off.

Gwen stopped in front of the women and slowly worked the snap of her leather pants. She bent down and plucked money from Ann with her teeth and then stood and billowed seductively as she tucked it into her g string. The women were screaming, egging her on and she watched as Ann retrieved and held out even more money to ensure that she would stay put. She remained in front of the women, holding her head high as she stood confidently in a wider stance. Then, as the song hit her other cue, she reached down and jerked the leather pants free at their Velcro seams. The crowd roared, the music thumped and she threw the pants aside fiercely, and watched the women with their hands full of money, loving her in the leather bra and matching g-string. She edged her way closer to women and stood stoically with her hips thrusted forward as they eagerly tucked their money into her g-string. As she glanced down, ready to move away, she saw that one woman remained further back, unable to reach her.

Lita reached down and aggressively pushed the women who had already paid aside, making way for the woman behind them. As the woman stepped up, Lita saw Ann place a fifty in her friend's hand, and then shoved her forward a bit. With money on her mind, Lita took a step back and then gracefully lowered herself to her hands and knees. Crawling forward slowly, she lowered her herself further in a snakelike move, touching her belly to the ground and then slowly pushing herself up to take the money from the woman with her teeth.

Green eyes suddenly locked with cat like hazel ones. Gwen remained in her yoga like position completely frozen. Beth stared back at her as recognition spread equally across her face. They stared at each other as Ann hooted and hollered, clapping her friend on the back. Gwen pushed herself back up onto her knees. She tried to shake Beth from her head but she couldn't. She watched helplessly as Ann handed Beth another twenty and pushed her forward. The woman seemed shy and she reached out with a trembling hand to tuck the money into Gwen's g-string.

With heat rising to her face, Gwen stood and continued to dance, quickly making her way to the other end of the catwalk. The music hit her other cue and she was almost too shy to remove her bra. She tried to blur the faces but she couldn't. Everywhere she looked she saw people. Panic set in and she removed her bra slowly, holding her head high as Lita would, but more so that she wouldn't have to look into the sweaty faces of the howling men. She dropped the bra with her back to Ann and Beth. She turned and sauntered the cat walk with her hands held over her breasts. The crowd ate it up, thinking it was part of the act.

As her song was nearing its end she lowered her arms and worked the pole. Her cover had been blown. But not just by anyone. By Beth. Not by Wally or even Mike, but Beth. A mother whose children were in her care. A woman she was attracted to. She did her last turn and then walked off the stage without turning to face the crowd.

http://www.xenafiction.net/scrolls/roni ... posed.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la talented miss cohen » 19 kol 2012 13:49

Kalimera Afroditi.
Evo jedna pričica, nije nužno sa lezbijskim sadržajem, pa se u tom smislu ispričavam zbog off-iranja.



SOCIAL CONSTRUCT

Their eyes met across a crowded room. The two lovers were drawn together by their mutual interest in the anarchist talk on gender and communism in JCR, and soon got talking over a glass of ethically-sourced wine.

“Let me not buy you a drink”, he said, “because a man buying a woman a drink is reinforcing a patriarchal approach to dating.”

She shivered with delight and guilt. This was her kind of chat-up line, but she couldn’t help feeling a little objectified.

“No,” she retorted, “I believe in the radical notion that a woman is a human being, and I therefore resent your attempts at conversation because you have approached me as a woman, not as a person.”

“Not at all!” he protested, horrified. “I don’t actually ‘see’ gender. In fact, I only know that you are female-bodied and identify as a woman because your hemp T-shirt explicitly says so. No, I see a stunning and bootylicious brain, and it is your brain which I would like to not buy a drink, and it is your brain which I would like to have sex with - with your written consent, obviously.”

This was all too much for her. Throwing caution to the wind, she leaned over and whispered in his ear,

“I know a place. Come on, follow me.”

They slipped out of the bar, and started climbing the stairs because the lifts were out of order. After one or two floors, he turned to her and said,

“Where are we going? What could possibly be up here?”

“Wait and see,” she replied, smiling seductively. “And if you think you’re breathless now, wait till we get to the fifth floor.”

And, sure enough, they burst into the anthropology library, panting and heaving. This was only the start of their breathlessness. She threw him to the floor, and started unbuttoning his shirt. He reached up and pulled her T-shirt up over her dreadlocks. He noticed that she was indeed female-bodied, and quite magnificently so.

Naked, and trembling with anticipation, they lay on the floor together. She climbed on top of him, and kissed him passionately.

“I’m going to do such amazing things to you,” she said.

“Like what?”

She got up and walked to the bookshelf. Bending over to look for a book, and displaying the full flower of her womanhood at the same time, she ran her finger along the spines. Finding what she was looking for, she pulled a book from the shelf and went back to him.

“I’m going to read Foucault to you while we fuck.”

He moaned with excitement, and his throbbing manstaff strained in her direction.

“Uh-uh!”, she teased, “you do exactly what I tell you to do. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what Foucault meant by Discipline and Punish. I’m going to treat you exactly how I please, without considering your wants, your needs, your identity. I’m not just going to fuck you - I’m going to other you.”

She slowly and gently manipulated him, rubbing him up and down against her, while reading out extracts.

“We have then a public execution and a timetable. They do not punish the same type of crimes or the same type of delinquent. But they each define a certain …”

She suddenly grabbed his glistening meatrod and pulled him inside her.

“… penal style.”

They fucked furiously on the floor, thrusting rhythmically to her recitation.

“Is it surprising that prisons resemble factories … “

He grabbed her hips and tugged her down, thrusting deeper and deeper with each noun.

“schools …”

He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip in pleasure.

“barracks …”

Her voice was strained now, as her passion for Foucault was eclipsed by her rather more earthly passions.

“hospitals …”

His face contorted, like Malinowski trying to understand the Kula ring gift system. She took a deep breath and made one last effort to finish her performance before he finished his.

“… which all resemble prisons?”

That did it. He unleashed his torrent of warm literary criticism as she trembled with spasms of delight that only the publishing of Confessions of the Flesh could surpass.

She looked down, with a mixture of contentment, disappointment and relief. It was over far too soon, but then again, she had enjoyed it too much. No self-respecting anthropologist could admit that they were a supporter of literal phallocentrism. They snuck out, tiptoed down the stairs, and crept out into the night.
Stars and stars and stars keep it to themselves.

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 19 kol 2012 19:08

Kalispéra talented miss cohen.
S obzirom da ovdje ima i biseksualnih forumašica ako imate još nekih zgodnih pričica samo stavite. Ovo je naš zajednički forum pa treba biti za svakoga ponešto. By the way pričica je vrlo zanimljiva.
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 19 kol 2012 23:34

Vukodlaci, vampiri ...

The Midnight Hunt
by LLRAND

Sylvan lunged forward from the rear of the Rover and crowded between the front seats. The compound was just ahead. “Hurry!”

Andrew shot her a worried look. “Alpha?”

From behind her, Niki said, “What is it?”

“Just hurry,” Sylvan said, clenching her jaws as the throbbing in the bite on her chest intensified. Andrew slowed and Sylvan jumped out.

Elena ran across the courtyard toward the Rover, a frantic Roger at her side. “It’s Drake,” Elena exclaimed. “She’s in frenzy.”

“I know.” Sylvan ran toward the forest, toward Drake.

“Alpha,” Niki shouted, following her.

“Stay back,” Sylvan ordered as she burst into the clearing.

Drake lay on the ground, moaning weakly. Sylvan tore off her shirt and dropped down beside her. Pulling Drake into her arms, she cradled Drake’s face against her bare shoulder, feeding her strength
through the touch of flesh on flesh. Drake’s eyes were feverish, her hair soaked with sweat.

“Drake,” Sylvan murmured. “I’m here.”

“Sylvan,” Drake gasped. “Oh, God, Sylvan, I hurt.”

“I know, I know. I’ll fix it,” Sylvan soothed, caressing Drake’s chest and belly.

Drake’s nipples were swollen and tight, her stomach rippling with need. Sylvan’s own nipples were hard as stone, her clitoris a throbbing ridge under the fly of her jeans. Drake arched in her arms,
rubbing against her, coating Sylvan’s skin with pheromones. Sylvan instantly absorbed the chemicals and her canines shot out. Her glands pumped out hormones and kinins with brutal force. Her system flooded with sex stimulants and her clitoris jerked fully erect. Her control crumbled. She needed to calm Drake before she lost all restraint and took her, roughly, relentlessly. She unbuttoned Drake’s pants.

“You smell so good,” Drake moaned, licking Sylvan’s neck.

She kissed her way down the tight column of Sylvan’s throat to Sylvan’s chest and sucked the bruise that glowed purple beneath Sylvan’s shimmering silver skin. Sylvan’s hips bucked and she growled a warning. Drake ignored her, raking her short claws down the center of Sylvan’s abdomen before
pulling a taut nipple into her mouth. Sylvan snarled and rolled Drake under her. She ripped Drake’s pants open and cupped her sex, pressing the heel of her hand down on the glands that pulsed beneath Drake’s protruding clitoris. She slipped her fingers into Drake’s tight, hot depths
and massaged her, inside and out.

Gasping, Drake moaned against Sylvan’s breast. “Oh God, what are you doing to me?”

“You need to release.” Sylvan skated her mouth over Drake’s and thrust her tongue inside, tasting, drinking, claiming. She thrust harder into her sex, stimulating the internal extension of Drake’s clitoris with her fingertips. Potent neurotransmitters poured into Sylvan’s palm and set off a chain reaction in her own body. Her clitoris twitched and her glands pumped. She readied to erupt.

Drake clutched Sylvan’s shoulders, driving herself up and down on Sylvan’s hand, faster and faster. She dragged her canines over Sylvan’s neck and licked the shallow scratches. “I want to come. I want to come for you.”

Sylvan growled and pulled Drake’s head back with a hand fisted in her hair. She stared into Drake’s gold-shot black eyes. “You will come for me.”

“Yes, God yes.” Drake’s legs and stomach were rigid. She gripped Sylvan’s arm, her claws drawing blood, and forced Sylvan deeper inside her. She threw back her head. “Now. Please now. Make me come
for you.”

“Touch me,” Sylvan demanded, bracing herself over Drake’s body on one arm while she drove inside her.

Drake tore open Sylvan’s jeans and slid her fingers around Sylvan’s clitoris. Instinctively she massaged the glands underneath on every rapid downstroke. Sylvan roared as Drake forced her to empty. Her pheromones gushed, merging with Drake’s, enclosing them in a sensual mist of sex hormones. The bite on her chest throbbed, kinins seeping from the puncture wounds that had reopened when Drake stimulated her.

“I have to come,” Drake pleaded, licking and sucking Sylvan’s chest. She scored Sylvan’s back, her hips a blur on Sylvan’s hand. “Please. Please. Sylvan…”

“Yes. Yes,” Sylvan groaned, inflamed by the heat of Drake’s mouth, drowning in her essence. “Yes.”
Sylvan buried her canines in the soft triangle at the juncture of Drake’s neck and shoulder. Mine. Mine.
Drake jerked at the bite and exploded over Sylvan’s arm. Sylvan’s hips pumped and Drake’s fingers were flooded with Sylvan’s hot, thick essence. But Drake knew there was more. She wanted more. She wanted something she didn’t know how to name. Instinct urged her to sink her canines into the bite on Sylvan’s chest, but Sylvan held her face away. “Easy, easy,” Sylvan whispered, cradling Drake against her chest until Drake’s release ebbed. Sylvan curled protectively around Drake even though Niki and Andrew would be standing guard in the forest nearby. Their clothes lay in scattered shreds on the ground. A swath of brilliant stars and a bright three-quarter moon lit the clearing. Content just to watch the silver shadows play across Drake’s face, Sylvan traced the angle of Drake’s jaw with her thumb and let her fingers run over the mark she’d made on Drake’s neck. Her mark. Hers.

“I dreamed of this,” Drake murmured, smoothing her palm down Sylvan’s abdomen.

“What did you dream?” Sylvan caught her breath when Drake stroked her clitoris. She should tell her to stop, but she didn’t want her to. She hadn’t emptied completely. She wouldn’t without the bite, and
she couldn’t risk another bite. Still, she was more satisfied than she’d ever been with another Were. Even when Francesca drained her to the point of weakness, she’d never had such pleasure. So she didn’t protest when Drake fondled her into readiness again.

“I dreamed we hunted together.” Drake kissed Sylvan’s throat, and her mouth. She rolled the hard, satiny head of Sylvan’s clitoris between her fingers and teased her tongue inside Sylvan’s mouth. When Sylvan groaned, Drake pushed her tongue deeper. Sylvan was still hard and swollen, and Drake wanted more. She kept teasing her as she talked. “We ran together, hunted in the forest together, slept curled around one another in a clearing like this one.” Sylvan was breathing hard, her legs tight, her pelvis lifting into Drake’s hand. She gritted her teeth, needing to release. “This isn’t a dream, is it?” Drake whispered, scraping her canines down Sylvan’s throat.

Sylvan clasped the back of Drake’s neck, preventing her from moving lower, from biting her again. Silver coated her belly. She whispered, “No. This isn’t a dream.”

“I want to feel you come. You want to, don’t you?” Drake licked Sylvan’s neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“Harder. Press harder.”

Drake pushed herself up on her elbow and massaged the base of Sylvan’s clitoris. “Like this?”

Sylvan’s face shifted, grew more angular, her eyes shimmered with gold. Her words came out on a growl. “Yes.”

“Maybe like this?” Drake rolled the deep glands, squeezing gently.

“Yes.” Sylvan shuddered and her canines gleamed against her full lower lip. Her clitoris twitched against Drake’s palm. She was so close. Her wolf surged, furious at being dominated and denied. Sylvan
snarled and reared up, trying to force Drake onto her back. To take her, come on her. Claim her.

“No,” Drake murmured gently, pressing her mouth to Sylvan’s ear, holding her down with just her hand on Sylvan’s sex. “Let me please you.” She remembered the dream and the weight of Sylvan against her back, pinning her to the earth. She licked along the edge of Sylvan’s jaw and kissed her again, circling Sylvan faster and harder. “Let me please you. Alpha.”

Sylvan bucked, her claws digging into Drake’s shoulder. “Yes.”

“That’s it.” Drake squeezed Sylvan’s pulsing sex tightly. “Come all over me.”

“Yes,” Sylvan shouted, spending into Drake’s hand.

Drake pulled Sylvan into her arms and leaned back against the fallen log, stroking Sylvan’s back until Sylvan’s labored breathing quieted. She caressed Sylvan’s stomach and gently fingered her clitoris.
Sylvan grumbled lazily. “You’re still hard. What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Sylvan sighed, more content than she’d ever expected to be.

Drake didn’t believe her, but she couldn’t demand more. She had no idea of her eventual place in the Pack or if she’d even live long enough to discover it. Sylvan was the heart of the Pack, and Drake
could make no claim on her. She held her, committing every detail to memory—the heat of her body, her scent, the sound of her breathing—and cherished the connection she might never have again.

http://depositfiles.com/files/1i36l22xv

The Midnight Hunters (2 dio)

http://depositfiles.com/files/f2jgewggt

The Midnight Hunters (3 dio)

http://depositfiles.com/files/oc61nqt7o
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 20 kol 2012 22:32

Divlji zapad ...žena koja živi život kao muškarac...rasna mržnja..seksualna neravnopravnost...bračno zlostavljanje

~ New Life ~
by A. K. Naten

Emma was out in back of the house washing clothes, grateful to be far away from Isaac. As predicted, she had started her monthly cycle a few days earlier, and Isaac had thrown a fit, although this time he'd only slapped her and knocked her across the room while calling her 'worthless'. She'd gotten off easy this month. As she began to hang the clothes up to dry, she spotted someone riding across the field, near the back of their property. Recognizing the beautiful light gray horse and the cowboy-hatted rider, Emma smiled. Edward Daniels was their neighbor, even though he lived quite a distance from them. He was fairly new in the area, having only moved into the dilapidated old ranch house in the next valley a short time after Emma married Isaac. The town rumor-mill had it that he was a half-breed - half-white, half-Apache. He appeared to be tall and lanky and always wore his cowboy hat pulled down quite far on his forehead. Having only talked to him once, very briefly, Emma thought Daniels to be an odd, introverted kind of person who never stopped to chat or visit and kept his distance. She recalled him being soft-spoken and very neat and clean in appearance - at least for a farmer-rancher. He had an exotic-looking face, Emma thought, and even though he wore his hat pulled down far, she remembered his exquisite blue eyes. Emma was, quite honestly, fascinated by the strange man, and she thought it a shame that she didn't know him better. Then again, the way everyone gossips about him, who can blame him for being aloof? Emma considered. Some people insisted that Daniels was a full-blooded Apache - apparently ignoring the fact that his skin was not very dark and his eyes were definitely blue - and was simply trying to pass himself off as a white man; therefore, he was a filthy, lying, cheating, murdering heathen who couldn't be trusted. Isaac Johnson was one of these people. He insisted that Emma not interact with the quiet man. She obeyed him, especially since she'd received a beating after Isaac saw her talking to the tall man on the gray horse that one time. Isaac claimed that Daniels was evil, and Emma remembered how he screamed at her, dramatically quoting the Book of Revelations, "...And I looked, and behold a pale horse; and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him!" She grimaced, remembering the wild look in Isaac's eyes as he came at her like a madman. Checking to be sure Isaac couldn't see her, Emma lifted a hand and waved to Edward. The rider tipped his hat at the petite blonde woman, acknowledging her greeting. Just as Emma was waving, however, their dog, a mangy good-for-nothing mongrel named Rascal, spotted the rider and his horse and took off after them, barking and gnashing his teeth.

"Oh no... Rascal!" Emma shouted, quickly taking off after the errant mutt. She watched in horror as Edward's horse reared up and whinnied frantically, but being an obviously experienced rider, Edward was able to maintain control of the animal and calmed him down while the scroungy little dog yapped at the horse's heels.

Emma came racing up, breathless and apologetic, "Oh Mr. Daniels, I'm *so* sorry!" she sputtered, gasping for breath and grabbing hold of the wayward varmint. Edward patted his horse's neck and murmured to the animal, trying to calm him.

Emma felt terrible, "I don't know what got into him... he usually doesn't act so vicious, really!"

"S'alright Mizz. Johnson. No harm done," Edward said in a low, raspy voice, quirking a slight grin while continuing to pat his horse.

Emma noticed that some of Edward's saddlebags were lying in the grass, obviously having fallen off when the horse reared. She bent to start gathering the items and when she turned back, she was surprised to see that Edward had dismounted and was kneeling beside her, gathering the spilled goods as well. Emma couldn't help but look. She had never been this close to her enigmatic neighbor before, and she found herself staring openly. Edward was dressed in ordinary, but neat, dark wool trousers, and wore a buttoned up, long-sleeved shirt covered by a buckskin vest. His face was boyishly handsome and smooth rather than rugged and weather-beaten, and if he had any facial hair, it was either very sparse or he kept it immaculately shaved off. His skin was a beautiful olive tone, and he had high, pronounced cheekbones and a strong, hard jaw. Emma decided that Edward Daniels was a good-looking man, and he was much younger than she originally thought. His features were usually shadowed beneath his broad cowboy hat, hiding the fact that he couldn't be too much older than Emma. Some hair peeked out of his hat at the back of his head, stopping midway down his neck. It was dark brown in color, almost black. Definitely part-Indian, Emma mused to herself. Just as she reached her inner conclusion, pale blue eyes turned toward her, and Emma felt her heart flip. She darted her eyes away, a blush stealing across her face as she flashed a nervous smile, feeling bad for staring and embarrassed that she'd been caught.

She stood quickly, smoothing her skirt and holding out the bag of goods to Edward, "Here you go," she mumbled, still forcing her eyes downward.

"Thank you," Edward said, all the while surreptitiously studying the attractive young woman in front of him. He didn't know very much about Emma and Isaac Johnson; he only knew that while Emma seemed very kind and friendly, Isaac seemed to be the exact opposite. Edward exercised and rode his horses across the valleys nearly every day, frequently nearing or crossing parts of the Johnson land in one way or another. He knew how Isaac spoke to Emma; it wasn't too difficult to hear the older man screaming and yelling at the pretty young blonde way out here in the middle of nowhere with no one else around. Some days his harshly shouted words and commands seemed to bounce off the mountains in every direction. Edward felt for the young woman; she seemed to be a good soul, and it was a shame to see her mistreated by a nasty son of a bitch like Johnson.

But that was none of Edward's business, so he stayed out of it. When Emma dared to look up at Edward again, he caught sight of a light purplish bruise on her cheek. Even though he tried to make his face remain impassive and mask his surprise, Edward obviously failed, and Emma quickly turned and walked away from him. The sad, knowing look that was reflected in the small woman's unusual sea-colored eyes told Edward everything he didn't need to know. Isaac was more than a nasty son of a bitch... he was an abusive one too.

Emma grabbed hold of the dog again, "I'm sorry again, Mr. Daniels," she offered as she began to back up toward her house.

Edward nodded solemnly and climbed back onto his horse, "Not a problem, ma'am," he said.

Their quiet conversation was rudely interrupted. "EMMA!" Isaac shouted harshly, making Emma jump. She turned to see her husband marching toward her with an axe in his hand. Stopping in front of his wife, Isaac grabbed her roughly by the arm, "What the hell do you think you're *doin'*?!"

"I-I was just fetching Rascal... he took off after M-Mr. Daniels and the horse," Emma stammered, grimacing at the pain Isaac was inflicting on her arm.

"Get your worthless hide back in the house, NOW!" Isaac growled lowly so that only Emma could hear, or so he thought. He gave Emma a shove then turned to regard Edward, who was watching the scene with furrowed brows, "If you aint got any business with me, boy, then I suggest you git on outta here!" He spat out tersely.

Edward felt his hackles rising as he regarded the surly man. He bit back the urge to tell him what a sack of shit he was. Isaac Johnson was a mean-looking bastard. Greasy, reddish hair peppered with gray at the temples, bushy eyebrows set upon a face that was craggy and overly tanned and rough from being exposed to the weather, and a short, stocky, muscular body that was covered in dirty, sweat-stained clothes. What bothered Edward most were the man's dark brown, ominous-looking eyes. They were lifeless and cold, and held no emotion whatsoever.

Deciding that he shouldn't stir the little man's ire any more, Edward simply nodded, "Yessir." He said politely, "You have a good day, sir... ma'am." He added, tipping his hat toward Emma, who was walking away slowly, but still looking. Emma gave a half smile and watched as Edward turned to ride off toward his home.
------
The feel of Danny's strong arms wrapping around her made her cry even harder, and her body shook as the emotions spilled forth. Danny just held her tight, whispering to her that it wasn't her fault, and stroking her back gently as she cried and cried. Eventually the tears stopped and Emma got herself under control. It felt so wonderful being in Danny's arms that she didn't want to step away from his warm embrace, but she had to... didn't she? Moving her head away from Danny's chest, Emma nervously ventured a glance upward. Danny's eyes pinned her immediately, the blue depths dilating and revealing a passion and intensity the likes of which she'd never seen before. One of his hands slid up from her back to tangle in her hair, and her breath seemed to evaporate as Danny leaned in closer to her. When their lips met, she thought she'd faint dead away. Her hands unconsciously wrapped themselves around Danny's neck, and she leaned into him as they kissed and absorbed each other tentatively. Danny's mouth and lips were so warm... so delicate. And his face was soft, lacking the rough, scratchiness she was accustomed to. He was the complete opposite of Isaac. When Danny's tongue darted out to tickle her lips and ask for entrance, Emma's mouth instinctually opened, and the kiss deepened further. Normally she disliked kissing, even though she didn't have much experience; the only man she'd kissed seriously was her husband. But Isaac was never gentle, and he never asked her what she liked or disliked. He just roughly forced his way inside, into her mouth, into her sex - wherever and whatever he wanted, he just took without asking. It was his, after all; she belonged to him, so why should he ask? But Danny... Danny was so different. He kissed Emma with such gentle reverence, like he was worshipping her rather than conquering her. His hands caressed her body and his thigh subtly insinuated itself in-between her legs, bringing their bodies together and moving treacherously closer to her femaleness as he continued to pleasure her mouth with his tender lips.
Emma knew how horribly wrong it all was, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. She admitted that she'd fantasized about this very moment, but it was turning out to be so unlike what she'd dreamt that she couldn't stop. It was as though her body had developed a mind of its own. She wanted to know every part of Danny; she wanted to feel him and smell him and absorb him. She wanted to give herself to him and know how it felt to have someone like Danny touch her and taste her and take her.
Her lustful thoughts were abruptly halted when Danny brought a hand down to her bottom and grasped it gently, pushing their hips and bodies together even more and bringing his firm thigh into contact with her most intimate parts. Emma gasped, and when she felt the hardness of Danny's desire pressing against her stomach, she finally broke and pulled away, suddenly shocked back into reality. Both of them breathed great lungfuls of air as they tried to calm their racing hearts and libidos. Emma's eyes were wide with fear and amazement, and she could only stand and stare at the man who had brought out this unrecognizable beast inside her. Danny raked a trembling hand through his hair, wanting and needing so badly to touch the flushed beauty before him. When was the last time he had wanted someone so badly? ...He couldn't recall ever wanting someone as much as he did Emma Johnson. Her sweet taste was still on his lips, and licked them in an attempt to hold onto her flavor. He was aware of the horrified aqua eyes that stared at him, and he thought that the blonde looked like she was going to faint.

"Emma...," Danny began softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Emma took a slight step backwards, blinking her eyes rapidly, "Danny... I-I need you to take me home... right now." She said, her voice tight and her words clipped. She wasn't angry... she didn't want Danny to think she was angry, she was just... she was just... flabbergasted... overwhelmed... confused. She just needed to get away from him so she could think.

"Emma," Danny tried again, but she shook her head.

"Please, Danny," she whispered, her voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes and threatened to escape down her cheeks, "Please... just take me home."

Danny didn't argue. He simply nodded, giving Emma a long, sorrowful look before he went outside to fetch his horse. Emma thought she would die. Whether it was from the frightening aftershock of her surprising arousal, or the blossoming sadness she felt growing inside, she didn't know.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/ak_naten_nl1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 21 kol 2012 23:03

priča o Amazonkama i njihovoj civilizaciji ali u suvremenom dobu ... 2 knjige

~ Amazonia ~ Book 1
by Ali Vali

Armed with a large umbrella, Bebo walked toward the capital buildings. She was interested in visiting all of the structures erected to embody American government, but today she was more interested in a building that had become Audrey's favorite from the first time she'd visited the city. As a small child, the princess remembered spending time in the great halls holding her mother's hand and listening to the queen's soft voice tell her about what they were seeing. Her jeans felt damp by the time she reached her destination and Bebo stood across the street to admire the massive building. The weather diminished the beauty of the fountain in front. Seeing the water jets under a brilliant sun was something else to add to her list of things to see. The sculptures crafted by Roland Hinton Perry depicted Poseidon and his court in his watery realm. A similar scene carved in marble decorated a fountain at the water's edge in Leon, only the one done by Amazon artisans was a lot older. The princess thought this one was just as beautiful though, and for a moment the mental comparison brought on the melancholic sadness of homesickness. The stoic figure sighing made Annie wonder what made her look so sad. Coming out of the train station after dropping off Mr. Baxter for a business trip, the blonde thought she was seeing things when she looked toward the far side of the street.

"Terry?" juggling her purse, umbrella and phone, Annie started walking toward her target.

"Yes?" The red head answered, dragging out the word and leaning back in her chair to hear the favor that was forthcoming.

"Could you fill in for me at one? Something came up and I won't be back…I think."

"You think? If something's come up, shouldn't you know?"

The light indicated she could walk across the first street she needed to get over, but Annie still wouldn't beat Bebo into the building. "If you cut me some slack here, I promise to tell you all about it when I see you."

"Take your time, and I'll hold you to that, don't worry."

The traffic was horrible and Annie had a time trying to get across the second street separating her from her quarry without the security of the pedestrian light. Tempting death by traffic wasn't something she often did, but she didn't want to lose Bebo in the maze of corridors if she got too far ahead of her. As she ran across the second street, she slid on the slippery sidewalk and began to fall. Annie thought she'd miss the princess because she'd have to take a cab home to change horribly wet clothing once she hit the ground. At the last second, a solid arm shot out and held her still against an equally solid feeling body making her forget the umbrella flying down the sidewalk.

"Careful, Miss Paddio, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

There had been few times in Annie's life she could remember thinking that just the sound of someone's voice could make her shiver. The few times she'd been in Bebo's company though, she'd done nothing but. Her voice was low and mellifluous, the kind of sound that wrapped around your brain and addicted you to wanting to hear more. With the combination of that and the smell of leather that surrounded her, Annie felt faint.

"I'm sorry," the blonde stammered, not really knowing what to say.

"Whatever for? I should give you a hard time for taking the chance of running across the street in the middle of all that traffic, but I'm sure you had your reasons. Are you all right now?"

A blush ran up her face so fast Annie could feel herself getting red at the teasing tone whispering in her ear. After her behavior the night before when Bebo kissed her hand, she was acting like a damsel in distress staying in the warm embrace. As slowly as she could, she righted herself and turned around to face her savior. Perhaps, after looking into the blue eyes, all the storybooks with that theme weren't all fantasy, and being rescued every so often was something she could grow to like.

"I just saw you and didn't want you to get away from me." The blush got so hot with the choice of words that Annie thought she could have dried her clothes without too much trouble.

"There was no reason to run and no chance of that happening, I was standing here waiting for you." Bebo arched a brow and her lips turned up in a smile ever so slowly. "Not that I was expecting you, but the gods do bless us with pleasant surprises when we least expect them. And I noticed you too when you stepped out."

"You did?" the question sounded unsure. "I mean, are you going in?" Annie pointed toward the building in an effort to fight the urge to scrub her face with the same hand.

"I thought it might be a nice way to spend a rainy afternoon."

They stood facing each other under Bebo's umbrella, neither of them moving, comfortable in their silence until Annie snapped first. "I know you probably can't talk about it, but aren't you supposed to be working with my father and his special unit today?"

"We did a little slap and tickle this morning then decided to call it a day. It's me who should apologize now for the condition you'll find Titus in when you get home. Kissing might be a problem for a couple of days."

Both of Annie's brows climbed into her hairline as her imagination took off at what Bebo meant. Their fight over the phone the night before came back to her and she hoped he hadn't done anything stupid to try and get back at the Amazon. When she never returned he was furious, and when she explained where she'd gone, he had just hung up.

"Titus is a big boy, I'm sure he'll be fine. If you'd like I'll go in and show you around. I'm not as knowledgeable about the building as the people who work here but I try and visit whenever I'm in the area and have time."

"My mother has tried to duplicate some of the facets of the National Library of Congress in Amazonia during her years on the throne. We've always had a national archive of scrolls and other written works and collections, but mom loved the grandeur of some of what she saw here. Some of her additions have made a beautiful place all that more spectacular."

They left their raingear with the guard and accepted visitors' passes that would allow them to walk around without a guide. For several minutes they walked side by side, with Bebo leaving a comfortable amount of space between them, and looked at the current exhibits and the items for which the Library was known. In the Great Hall, Bebo stood in the center on the large brass inlay of the sun and looked up at the stained glass.Annie almost felt as if she were intruding on Bebo's thoughts when she spoke. Her need for words had been a constant line of teasing from her father who thanked the heavens she hadn't wanted to pursue a military career. In his opinion the enemy would have captured her in the first five minutes of her arriving on assignment because of her inability to stay quiet.

"I don't know if you noticed in the Vestibule, but there are eight statues dedicated to the goddess Minerva," her voice had taken on the hushed tones of a librarian.

"When this building was constructed, your people did a wonderful job of incorporating many aspects of learning. The compass," Bebo pointed to the floor where she was standing, with the four cardinal points of the compass inlaid in the floor along with the sun. She pointed to another set of inlays. "The signs of the zodiac. "It's as if they understood you must incorporate both the heavens and the works of man to make a place like this truly a place dedicated to knowledge. And to answer your question, yes I noticed. My mother pointed them out to me the first time I was here. Though, since I'm more Greek than Roman, Miss Paddio, I prefer to say the statues are of Athena."

"This is fun," said Annie, laughing a little like a schoolgirl with a crush. She looked from side to side. Other than the tour that had already gone through, they were alone. "Last night you said it was just you and me, so it could be Bebo and Annie. Do you think we are alone enough again?"

"Last night you also almost jumped into old Abe's lap when I made a move you weren't expecting, so you tell me. I don't often try to make the same mistake twice. If you'd feel more comfortable we can try and catch up with one of the tours."

"No, I meant what I just said. This is fun because you're interested in this stuff enough to learn about it and want to discuss it with me. Last night was my mistake not yours. I really do like your company so I'm hoping one mistake doesn't mean I won't get to spend time with you."

"Two," said Bebo with a straight face.

"What?"

"Two mistakes. You're forgetting Larissa," said Bebo when she saw the look of confusion on Annie's brow. "But then we decided that neither of those things were intentional mistakes, so we could just move on."

They continued on down the corridors and under the vaulted ceilings where the names of great scholars, men of law and writers were embossed on medallions. When they arrived at the stairs that led to the viewing room for visitors to look into the library, they stopped and admired the mosaic of Athena that took up a huge portion of the wall. In white robes, the goddess was shown in a pose of serenity with her owl. Included in the colorful work were a globe, a sword and a scroll.

"Back when this building was just a dream, my people very seldom left the island if it wasn't necessary. But for this," Bebo waved her arm to encompass their surroundings, "Queen Eris sent a contingent of artists to create this gift for your new nation." The princess and citizen of Amazonia had bowed before the goddess before deciding to share her story.

"That isn't in any of the literature I've read."

"It wasn't given to garner gratitude from your people, it was given to add something to a place dedicated to learning. Athena is the goddess of war, but she is also the goddess of education and science. It is because of her and her sister Artemis, the whole of Amazonia has prospered for so long, or so the priestesses tell us."

Annie heard a bit of something added to Bebo's tone, but they didn't know each other well enough to know what it was. "You don't believe in the gods?"

"I believe we're here and must rely on ourselves to make the right choices, but then I also believe there are greater forces who guide our fates. I've never seen a god, but if they do exist, how humorous must they find our mundane lives?"

"Now who's the cynic?"

The rich deep laugh echoed through the space and Bebo's eyes came to life. "I never said I wasn't, but I find I'm more of an observer than a cynic. There are certain things I find amusing that prove to me there are gods and they find humor in the strangest of places."

"What do you mean?"

"The halls we walked down, the ones with all the names," said Bebo pointing toward the ceiling. Annie nodded then looked back in that direction. "When they were placed on the ceilings to show the best in every field, your founding fathers only thought to add men; poets, authors, scientists, etcetera - all brilliant in their time, but still all men. Did you know there is but one woman's name stamped up there?"

Annie looked puzzle and tried to recall if she'd ever read anything that mentioned that fact. "There is? Huh, you learn something new everyday. Who is it?"

"Sappho."

"You're kidding me? Why in the world would they have done that?" Annie looked up warily as though the name would fall on her head. "Not that there's anything wrong with her writing."

Bebo smirked. "Of course not, I'm just sure you have no reservations with the most famous lesbian writer of her time and for generations after her death being placed in a place you hold so dear." Annie recognized the tone this time for what it was, sarcasm.

"I'm not homophobic."

"I didn't say you were."

"I'm not," insisted Annie.

"I refuse to get into a circular argument with you. So back to what I was saying. When the names were picked, the men responsible for their choice saw it on the list and thought it was a famous writer, which she was, only they thought she came with the most crucial element to get you on the ceiling - a penis. If you think hard on that one though, I would be willing to bet you giving Titus a free shot at my head with a big stick that she had more than one and in a variety of colors."

Annie couldn't help herself and started laughing. She laughed until her sides hurt and she was leaning on Bebo to hold her up. Picturing men in powdered wigs pouring over a list of names and placing a check mark next to the famous poet's name was the funniest thing she could have imagined.

"So, Annie, her name up there as the only woman representative of her time makes me believe the gods do exist and they have one Hades of a sense of humor."

"In all the time I've been in here that's the best story I've ever heard. Have you had lunch?" Not moving away from Bebo, Annie laid both her hands on the tall woman's chest and looked up at her as she asked the question. Being so close to her made Annie feel warm, but it had nothing to do with temperature. It was like her skin wanted to feel Bebo as if it had a last found what it missed.

"That would mean you'd have to sit at a table with me," Bebo leaned in and got closer to the little blonde to gauge her reaction. "We might even end up in close quarters."

"I'm sure you're more than capable of protecting yourself if I decide to get fresh with you," joked Annie. "Do you have a preference? What I mean is, would you like to join me? I should start with that."

"I'd love nothing better." Bebo paused. "I'd like to try a little place my driver told me about." They walked out and hailed a cab to a small Japanese restaurant in Georgetown. "You do like sushi, don't you?"

"Bait? I'm just wild about it," answered Annie, trying hard not to turn green.

"We'll have yours rolled in tempura and deep fried. Trust me, you'll love this."

It was the most intimate, nonsexual afternoon Annie had ever spent in her life. Bebo was persuasive enough to get her to try a couple of the different items on the menu and she found she really did like the bits of stuff wrapped in sticky rice and seaweed once she gave it a chance. She had no qualms whenever she leaned in and allowed the tall reclining princess to feed her with the black lacquered chopsticks. She relaxed on the cushions she was sitting on and wiggled her toes glad to see there weren't any runs in her stockings. Two hours later Annie still wasn't tired of looking at the princess when they sat during moments of silence, or when listening to Bebo tell amusing stories of her childhood. During her life as an Army brat, Annie had come to love the privilege of exploring new places when her father was transferred, but felt she had missed out on having lots of friends because they did move so much. Listening to Bebo talk about her home and her friends was nice and it gave her a different perspective. She was also basking in the attention Bebo seemed to lavish without thought or effort, as if it was something she was comfortable doing with Annie. In her experience it was she who'd had to give the attention feeling that she owed it to Titus.

"You're really different from my father," said Annie. Her head was resting on her open palm as she ignored etiquette and leaned her elbow on the table.

"If I weren't, different I mean, they wouldn't let me be princess." The joke caused the blonde to snort and it pleased Bebo to no end. She'd found Annie beautiful from the moment she'd first seen her, but this relaxed happy woman before her was stunning.

The sake they'd consumed made Annie feel warm under the gaze of the blue eyes. "I suppose not, but that's not what I meant."

"And what did you mean, my dear Annie?"

"My mom has always loved art and the theater…stuff like that you know, but my father just always thought it was a waste of time. His job and his responsibilities were always more important than looking at anything in a museum or gallery. For the longest time I tried to understand both sides of their arguments, but I just finally felt like she was losing out on so much not being able to enjoy what she loved with him. Since he wasn't interested, she just went alone so she never shared that part of herself with him, even though she tried to show enthusiasm for his job and duties."

If you never chance anything, then how do you know you'll be good at anything? Boden's words rang in her daughter's head and Bebo decided to take a chance. She reached across the small table and took the hand that rested on Annie's thigh. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"You seem to have been able to balance both worlds quite nicely. I don't know all the details, I know you're considered a warrior but you also enjoy the more boring arena of books. Or at least all the soldiers in my life think they're boring." She didn't flinch and didn't pull away, but Annie's heart did race as she noticed the texture of Bebo's hand.

Slowly Annie placed their hands on the table and rubbed hers along Bebo's palm to get the larger one to open. A clear polished nail ran down the length of the long fingers before Annie got back to the palm and used all of her fingertips. Bebo's hands weren't hard looking, but they weren't soft either. On certain sections there were well-defined calluses that the blonde guessed came from some sort of repetitive motion while holding something. When she finished with the first, green eyes looked up at the woman studying her and Annie held out her hand so Bebo would take it. When the princess gave her other hand over willingly, Annie treated it to the same unhurried study.

"Where did these come from?" She pressed down gently on one of the rough spots causing the fingers to close a bit. For the briefest of moments she had an overwhelming need to kiss the palm under her fingers.

"Years of training with different pieces of equipment." It was Bebo's turn to take Annie's hand in hers and lay the palm bare for study. "The chobos cause you to blister here after hours of holding them." She pointed to the right spot on the soft hands and ran her finger along the length of Annie's palm just under the base of her fingers. Bebo was watching the journey of her finger so closely that she missed the goose bumps popping up on Annie's arm caused by her actions. "The sword along here," she ran her finger just a little lower and closer to the thumb than she had before. "They of course are weapons that aren't as useful in the art of war today, but they make you respect the warriors of old. Every young recruit who picks a life of military service, learns from the simplest of weapons to the most complicated of today's society. That is our way."

"And your knowledge of other things, where did that come from?"

"I'll one day, the gods willing, rule my people for the next generation. To do so effectively I have to know when to pick up my sword, but more importantly, when not to." Bebo squeezed Annie's fingers once before letting the delicate hand go and retreating back to her side of the table only to have Annie chase it with her own not wanting to let go. "If you need something more specific, it was my mother Audrey. Listening to her tell stories all my life, made me want to read and see the world the way she sees it."

"Will you tell me about her?" Though she wasn't conscious of her actions, Annie's thumb rubbed across Bebo's knuckles in a small circle.

"If I were to do an adequate job, we'd be here all night, and I'm sure there are people in your life who wouldn't appreciate that." Bebo poured them some more wine and handed Annie her cup to try and put some distance between them. The petite blonde may not have been aware of her thumb's movements, but she was driving Bebo mad with her gentle caresses. "The short version is my mother is a bard, a storyteller who has a doctorate in history, and a degree in education. When she and my second mother Boden first joined, she worked as a kindergarten teacher during the school year and a volunteer in the archives when the session was over. She likes to get back in the classroom when she has the opportunity, but now her life is fairly consumed with her responsibilities as queen. She and my mom are another two reasons I believe in the gods."

"That sounds like a statement you're expected to say," teased Annie.

"You'd think, but I say it because in my heart I believe it. I learned two different ways to live from two different women who complete what the other is missing in their lives."

"And what are you missing in your life?"

Bebo fished her wallet out of the pocket of her jacket and extracted some bills. "At this moment in time, not a thing."

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/ali_val_amazonia1.html

Amazonia Book 2
http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/ali_vali ... _two1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
Postovi: 4523
Pridružen/a: 23 srp 2011 11:44
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Lokacija: Karlovac

Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 22 kol 2012 23:56

Svijet zadovoljstva i ljubavi ...harem u dalekoj arapskoj zemlji u srednjem vijeku ..nešto drugačija verzija 1001 noći

Nights of Silk and Sapphire
by Amber

The next evening, Zafirah sat beneath the weeping branches of a willow tree in the seraglio, her eyes wandering back and forth between two different points of focus. The first was a group of girls dancing and laughing on the lawn nearby, the second was a solitary blonde who watched the proceedings from a comfortable spot beside the waterfall, surrounded by several pieces of parchment on which she scribbled absently. Zafirah had been watching Dae for over an hour now, trying to will her to get up and join in the dancing, but to no effect. The sun was now starting to set, and Zafirah's hopes of seeing the captivating blonde whirl and gyrate again were slowly dying. Why does she not dance? Zafirah frowned sulkily and began stripping the flesh from a pomegranate. She did it the night before last without care or concern. Why not now? Is it me? Does she avoid joining the others for fear of my eyes watching her? Sighing, feeling a strange melancholy settle over her like a depressing cloud, Zafirah wondered at her feelings for Dae. Since her conversation with Falak the prior evening, the thoughts of the Scion had dwelt more and more on the young blonde. Dae's innocent features and deliciously unexplored body taunted Zafirah, and she found her want growing stronger by the hour. For the first time that she could remember, the Scion found her normally ravenous sexual appetite oddly dulled. Though the harem girls flirted and tried to catch her fancy, hoping to win their way into her bed for the evening, their touches and smiles couldn't rouse the flames of Zafirah's passion. Their whispered words of seduction and suggestions of nightly delights elicited no response. The music sounded too lively and spirited for the dark woman's mood, and she glared at the way everyone else seemed so happy. Only when her sapphire eyes turned to the young blonde sitting apart from the group did Zafirah's blood stir. When Dae began to suck absently on a strand of her golden hair, Zafirah almost swooned with longing. She watched every subtle motion the girl made as she scribbled away silently, entranced by each simple gesture and movement. And, as she stared hungrily at the young blonde, Zafirah realized she would find no satisfaction in the arms of another lover this night. And so, when she left the seraglio gardens some hours later, Zafirah was alone. Such occurrences were not terribly rare, however. No-one paid much mind to Zafirah's strange distance or lack of interest, assuming the Scion would simply take a lover from among the army barracks for the night.
However, when the same behavior was repeated eight nights in a row, puzzled murmurings began to stir like an ill-wind through the harem.

Still a stranger to most desert customs, it took Dae some time to realize anything was amiss. But eventually, the young girl noticed the peculiar tension that marked the faces of the other pleasure-servants, and the way they whispered conspiratorially in groups from time to time. When Inaya approached her one morning with an unusually somber frown, Dae raised an eyebrow curiously.

"What's wrong? Why is everyone acting so strangely?"

Inaya settled herself beside her friend and fiddled with the beads of her outfit. "They are troubled," she explained in a serious, concerned tone. "Zafirah's behavior these last few days is not normal for her."

"Oh?" Dae cocked her head thoughtfully. "I hadn't really noticed anything."

"She has not taken a lover for eight nights!" Inaya said, her eyes wide with terrible dread.

"Eight nights?" Dae couldn't help but giggle. "So what? Surely she's gone eight nights before without.." She trailed off as Inaya shook her head ominously. Green eyes widened in surprise. "You mean..?"

Inaya nodded. "As I have told you, Zafirah is a woman of great passion. She has never abstained before. This is not like her at all."

Dae absorbed this, then shrugged. "Maybe she's just taking a lover from somewhere else," she suggested. "You said she does that sometimes, right?"

"Indeed. But we have spoken with the guards. They say Zafirah has slept alone this past week. Her sleep is troubled and sporadic. And there are other things." Inaya leaned closer, and her tone became more conspiratorial. "She has been training with the soldiers for hours on end…even during the heat of the midday sun! She rides alone across the dunes and comes back near exhaustion. The guards are afraid to approach her, but they are deeply concerned."

Dae wanted very much to shrug away any concern for the Scion's strange behavior, but she could see plainly that Inaya was deeply concerned. "She seems okay whenever she comes here," she observed thoughtfully. "She doesn't seem to stay in the seraglio with us as long as she used to, but I just figured she was busy with affairs of state. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"You do not understand," Inaya persisted. "Even during times when raiders attacked the outlying tribes, Zafirah never slept alone! Whatever troubles her must be a powerful influence indeed to keep her from seeking pleasure."

Blonde brows contracted. "So…what do you think is wrong?"

Inaya's limpid brown eyes studied Dae's face cautiously. "I have my suspicions," she said warily. "But that is all they are…suspicions. For now, all that is certain is that Zafirah's behavior is not healthy for either her mind or her body. If she does not settle with her troubles soon, I fear the damage done will be far more severe."

Zafirah sat cross-legged in the city temple, breathing long, deep breaths of the incense-soaked air, trying desperately to quell the energy that thrummed through her body with the peace of meditation. The priests of Inshal who watched from the darker shadows of the temple pillars were starting to get nervous; she had been sitting here like this for over three hours, and the time no longer seemed to stretch into eternity. But still, Zafirah could find no respite from the urges of her body. Abstinence - in any form - was not in Zafirah's nature. The two greatest pleasures in her life were the pursuits of war and sexual gratification, and she had never felt the need to restrain herself from either…before now.
Eight nights. Eight long, frustrating nights. Zafirah's lust was reaching a critical level, and the strain of holding back was starting to grow almost physically painful. But though she had a harem filled with gorgeous women who would have enjoyed nothing more than to relieve her of her ache, Zafirah knew none of them could satisfy her now. None, that is, save Dae. In the back of her mind, Zafirah knew she needed a solution quickly. If she allowed this hunger to grow for much longer, the temptation might prove overwhelming, and Dae could be hurt. Zafirah was wracking her brain to come up with a way to avoid this fate, but so far, nothing had presented itself. At first she had thought to exhaust her sexual appetite with physical exercise, hoping to distract her mind with endless martial drills and long desert rides. And at first, the plan had seemed to work. But now, nothing could stop the force of her desire for the young blonde. Sleep came only with great reluctance, and the Scion's dreams were filled with erotic images of Dae's untouched body writhing beneath her own. Each day, it got a little worse. Without release, Zafirah knew, this passion threatened to destroy her mind. And then, suddenly, the solution was clear. Sapphire eyes opened for the first time since Zafirah had entered the sacred temple. She took a moment to consider her idea more thoroughly, then nodded to herself, pleased. Rising stiffly from her meditation, the Scion rubbed her cramped legs to restore their circulation, then strode swiftly down the hallowed hallways till she found one of her guards. Gesturing the armored woman to her side, she gave a single concise instruction.

"Go to the harem and request Nasheta's presence in my chamber at once."

The guard saluted, and marched quickly towards the seraglio gardens to fulfill her mission. Nasheta entered the Scion's bedroom and looked around curiously. She was uncertain exactly what to expect; though she'd served Zafirah for three years as a pleasure-servant, the young blonde had learned never to underestimate the dark woman's creativity. And since she'd been acting so strangely this last week… Nasheta wasn't going to make any assumptions about why she'd been summoned here, nor about what the Scion might ask of her. The bedroom glowed in the soft light of several dozen small shamedan, the flames casting secretive shadows over the corners of the room. Smoke from a bundle of glowing incense sticks resting on a table curled up to the ceiling in serpentine spirals, twisting and writhing into the air and filling the room with the sharp scent of vanilla and hyacinth. Nasheta smiled coyly when her eyes came to rest on the enormous bed that dominated the chamber, and her smile was returned by the woman who lay there like a tiger in repose.

"Enter, Nasheta," invited the familiar husky voice in a tone that sent shivers down the blonde girl's spine. "I have been waiting."

Nasheta stepped closer, swaying her hips in a conscious display she could tell was instantly noted. "How may I be of service, my Scion?" she asked in a heavy whisper. The heat in Zafirah's eyes had immediately cleared away any doubts as to why she had been summoned here. Nasheta decided these past few nights of abstinence must have simply been a one-time occurrence - strange, perhaps, but not nearly so ominous as Inaya and the others had feared.

Zafirah sat up and studied the harem girl intently, her eyes lingering over the blonde hair and full breasts, before they dropped lower and passed over slender hips and down toned thighs. Her smile grew wider. "Come closer."

Nasheta did as instructed, stopping just a few inches from Zafirah. She deliberately thrust her breasts forward, inviting the dark woman to sample her flesh intimately. Zafirah ignored the tempting offer and rose slowly from the bed. The sheer robe she wore slipped from her shoulders, revealing the barest of undergarments. She circled the patiently waiting girl like a panther, carefully noting the way Nasheta's breathing grew heavier under her gaze. Stopping behind the girl, Zafirah ran a single finger through the fine blonde hair and down over warm skin, pleased when the simple touch inspired a low shudder. Leaning closer to a tasty-looking ear, Zafirah whispered two words that almost caused Nasheta's legs to buckle.

"I hunger."

Zafirah stepped away again, deliberately prolonging the moment. Nasheta whimpered, her body awash with desire. She knew from experience that the Scion would only make this torment last longer if she made any move to hasten the proceedings, and so remained silent and still as she waited for Zafirah's next move. Warm breath suddenly blew against her neck, raising gooseflesh and causing her to tilt her head in open invitation. But no lips pressed against her heated flesh. Instead, a silken voice whispered into her ear. "Nasheta?"

"Mmmm?" She moaned, her eyes closed in anticipation of the pleasure to come.

"Would you like to play a game?"

Nasheta's eyes flashed open, the sea-green orbs dilated with passion. She knew that when Zafirah wanted to 'play', it always portended a night of carnal ecstasy for her chosen partner. Zafirah smiled expectantly down at the girl, one dark brow raised. The blonde batted her eyelids with practiced innocence. "What kind of game?"

Zafirah grinned toothily and ran her fingertips lightly over Nasheta's skin. "Oh, I think you will find it to your liking," she promised softly. "It is the kind of game where you will scream your passion to the night until you grow hoarse."

Nasheta trembled. "What would you have me do?"

Zafirah was quiet for several moments, her hands never ceasing their teasing caresses. "I was hoping…" She swallowed, and Nasheta realized with some surprise that the Scion was nervous. "I was hoping perhaps you might be willing to…entertain a fantasy I have."

In the course of her service to the Scion, Nasheta had been involved in bringing many of the dark woman's fantasies to life. Never had Zafirah shown even the slightest hint of apprehension when sharing her desires and dreams…some of which had made even the experienced pleasure-servants blush. The dark-haired woman was bold and adventurous with her lovers. Remembering some of the things Inaya and the guards had been whispering about recently, it suddenly clicked in Nasheta's head why she was here. She, and not one of the other girls. Blonde hair and pale features. A slight frame with full breasts. Green eyes. Nasheta and Dae were the only two girls in the harem to possess such qualities… and Dae was untouchable.

Comprehension brought a slow, seductive smile to Nasheta's lips. She turned to face the Scion directly, stepping away from her wandering hands. "I believe I understand your desires, Zafirah," she said softly, using the more familiar name confidently. In the bedroom, Zafirah was no longer Scion of a mighty desert nation - she was just a woman. As she backed away, Nasheta slowly began to touch herself, tracing the contours of her own body firmly, grazing the smooth outer curve of each breast in turn, then down over her hips and thighs. Zafirah's nostrils flared hungrily, her eyes following the wandering hands over every inch of their journey. "I understand why I am here."

"You do?"

"Oh yes." Nasheta walked over to the bed and lay herself among the plush cushions, writhing erotically against the silk. "Close your eyes."

Sapphire eyes widened for a moment in surprise at the command, but then obediently slid shut.

"Picture in your mind what you wish to do to me," Nasheta instructed in a low whisper. "Picture her body as you have seen it in the seraglio."

Zafirah's breathing stopped, her posture uncertain for a heartbeat before she shivered and relaxed.

"She is beautiful, is she not? So pure. So innocent. She has never known the touch of another woman. Never felt her body explode with fiery pleasure." Nasheta was pleased to see her words have their intended effect. Zafirah's expression softened, but her breathing grew shallow. "Open your eyes."

Sapphire eyes flashed open instantly, their depths darkened to midnight blue.

Nasheta sat up, kneeling with her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Tonight, my body shall be her body," she whispered. "Tonight, you may love her without fear of rejection…without fear of consequence. I am yours to command, my Scion."

Zafirah stared at the young blonde, her whole body quivering with the force of effort it took to rein in her passion. In all the years she had been Scion of El'Kasari, she had never played such a game as this - had never asked a lover to be anyone other than herself. "You are certain you…do not mind?" she asked almost shyly.

Nasheta smiled and lowered her head, letting her hair cover her face as she had seen Dae do so many times. "I am honored," she said softly. "I ask only one thing."

Zafirah swallowed hard, the simple familiar gesture bringing her blood to the boil. "Wh-what?"

Sea-green eyes glanced up through a curtain of pale hair. "Be gentle." A pause. "I've never done anything like this before…"

Before Nasheta even had time to applaud her excellent imitation of Dae's sweet voice, she found herself pressed hard against the cushions by the full weight of Zafirah's ardent body. Desperate hands roamed everywhere, shaking with need but remaining gentle. Nasheta groaned when the dark woman claimed her lips with a forceful kiss, eagerly surrendering to the hot tongue that invaded her mouth and began to battle with her own. The flimsy harem outfit she wore proved no match for Zafirah's passion, and was quickly torn from her body and thrown across the room. Once naked, the young blonde lay back against the cushions, and prepared to be devoured. Zafirah was dizzy with lust, completely caught up in her fantasy. In her mind, it was Dae's body she had pinned to the bed, writhing so deliciously on the silk sheets. Her fingers ran over burning skin and through fine blonde hair, and she suckled strongly at her lover's neck, leaving marks. Zafirah hadn't gone this long without sexual release since she was eighteen years old, and the scent of sex and sweat made her almost frenzied with desire. Eight nights of unspent passion erupted from within, and she felt a minor climax seize her just from the sound of a low, rumbling moan that escaped the woman beneath her. With trembling fingers she sought out hardened nipples and began to excite them with an expert touch.

"You like this?" she gasped.

Nasheta struggled to remain in character, but the sensuous assault on her body made it difficult. Her breasts arched against Zafirah's touch as the young blonde wracked her somewhat distracted brain to come up with an appropriate response for a virginal maiden, even as her hips surged forward against her will.

"I-It feels wonderful," she eventually managed to get out. "Please…show me more. I want you to show me everything!"

The words were oil thrown on an already blazing inferno. Zafirah growled hungrily and abandoned the glorious breasts she was working on so she could move closer to the slick golden treasure that had haunted her dreams this past moon. Her hands worshipped briefly over the firm stomach and spreading thighs before she journeyed inwards, quickly finding velvet heat that almost drove her over the edge again. Struggling for breath, Zafirah let her fingers play through damp blonde ringlets and then lower, teasing the hardened nub that crowned her lover's center before quickly sliding between the slick folds, pleased when the young girl's hips began to thrust desperately against her.

"Easy, my little Tahirah," she soothed. "Be patient…we have all night."

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=365 ... silk1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 24 kol 2012 00:08

Priča o Emily uspješnoj odvjetnici i Erin bogatoj nasljednici ..njihovim susretima tijekom godina -11 nastavaka

~ The Adventures of Super Dyke I: If You Like Piña Coladas... ~
by Alex Tryst

Twenty minutes later they found themselves in front of a nondescript three-story building with the exception of a neon sign that pronounced they were at Venus. Emily could hear music pouring into the street when the door opened, so Erin grabbed her hand and escorted her inside. The place was packed with so many people they could barely move through the crowd. It was obvious all the employees knew Erin as they shouted over the music and waved at her. The brunette did the same but kept working her way through the sea of people. Emily took in the decor. Large rainbow flags hung from the ceiling and photographs of famous lesbians hung behind the bar, even one of her hostess in her tiara. Women and a few men were assembled on the first-floor dance floor, gyrating to the retro music the DJ was spinning. Looking upward again, the blonde noticed the second floor had couples dancing at the overlook of the dance floor while other people played pool, but the third floor balcony was empty.

Erin took them up to the third floor and into an office. "Sorry. I just have to look at something quickly."

"You own this place?' Emily asked as Erin took a seat at the desk.

"Yeah. You like it?"

"It's fantastic. How come you never mentioned it before?"

"I just opened it a few weeks ago. This was actually I was going to discuss with you tomorrow at your office in addition to our usual stuff. For now though, I just want you to enjoy it. Our launch party was a success, and business has been great since. I think it has to do with the fact that I play retro on Friday nights. People seem to really get into it. All right. I'm finished here. You want to dance?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Great. Let's go," she said, taking Emily by the hand.

Together the duo made their way back down to the large dance floor. Finding a spot for the two of them, Erin pulled Emily to her. The blonde went along willingly and soon found herself body to body with her fantasy. Jesus, she feels good. How am I going to make it through this without just jumping her? This only makes me want you more, Erin. If you can do this with your hips while dancing, what can you do in the sack? Emily felt Erin's hands roaming her back as they ground into each other. They started out at a leisurely pace but began to move with increasing speed, slipping lower and lower until the blonde felt them in the back pockets of her jeans. Feeling the brunette's breath against her temple as they danced, Emily knew she couldn't stand it any longer. She had to have this woman. Gathering her courage to take things further, she encircled Erin's neck with her arms. You can do this, Emily. All you have to do is make the first move. God, what if she rebuffs me? She wouldn't. She's intrigued, isn't she? Doesn't she want this, too? What if she doesn't? Oh God. Her hands feel so good, Emily thought as she felt fingers digging into her flesh through her jeans. No, she wants this. All I have to do is open the door, and she'll walk through it. The short woman took a deep breath before slipping her hands into dark hair and pulling Erin's head down toward hers. The moment demanded she kiss her date with urgency, so she hungrily captured Erin's lips with her own. She felt the growl reverberate in the Texan's chest against her own as their tongues met in a hot exchange. Large hands cupped her fair head, fingers threading through the long blonde hair. My God. I'm going to faint. Emily felt her knees starting to loose their ability to hold her weight, but she was held tightly against a strong body. Erin finally broke their heated kiss. Dark eyes flashed wantonly, and the cocky smile made Emily's desire grow. You know you have me, don't you? Damn, I don't even care anymore. Just take me home.

"You want a drink?" Erin asked.

"Sure."

They moved to the bar and were immediately seen to by the bartender. Then Erin excused herself, saying she wanted to talk to the DJ for a moment. Emily watched her go. As promised Erin didn't stay away long. When she came back to the bar, she slid onto a stool and just smiled as she gulped her scotch on the rocks without even flinching. Both women watched the floor for a few minutes before the music slowed into a song that made Emily smile. "Come on. They're playing our song," Erin said, taking her date by the hand and moving back to the floor as the song about straying spouses rekindling their love at a bar over piña coladas rang out over the speakers. Their eyes stayed locked through the entire song as they moved to the song.

Come on, Emily. When this song is over, ask her to take you home. You know you want this. Why delay it? But how? You have to say something witty. But what? Damn, the things this woman does to me. I'm getting wet just thinking about her touching me. All too soon the song faded into a faster beat, and the moment was over. Not giving herself a chance to think too much, Emily made a move to kiss Erin once again. It left them both breathless. Nipping the brunette's ear, Emily demanded, "Take me home and fuck me, Super Dyke."

Unable to contrive any comeback, Erin simply nodded her head and answered, "Yes, ma'am."

This time it was Emily that led them through the crowd back out onto the street. She hailed a cab and shoved her date into the back of it. Rattling her address to the driver, she turned focused blue eyes on Erin. The brunette was breathing erratically as their mouths came together again. Emily could feel herself losing her control of the situation as hands found their way into her blouse. She whimpered as a dark head dipped into the crook of her neck. She clung tighter to Erin's back as she was pressed against the corner of back seat and door. Her eyes noticed the driver staring at them through his rearview mirror. The blonde growled at him as her boot-clad heel slammed up against the fiberglass that divided them. "Turn around and drive," she barked.

She felt Erin laugh against her neck. "What a forceful bitch you are," she joked. Turning her head over her shoulder, she commented to the driver, "Best do as the lady says, so I don't have to open a can of whoop ass on you."

Neither woman really registered any other part of the ride until the driver declared their arrival. Erin fumbled through her wallet for money as Emily exited the vehicle. The blonde didn't even bother to button her blouse, creating an erotic image, standing on the busy street seemingly oblivious to the fact that men and women were staring at her exposed black bra and abundant endowment. Erin could feel her pulse race even harder as she stepped out of the cab into her date's space once again. She had always secretly wanted Emily Parker, but she felt it best never to try for the sake of their professional relationship. However, just then the resplendent blonde looked like a fantasy. Even though her blouse was still tucked into her jeans, the buttons were open all the way to her waist, but it was her confidence to carry off the look that aroused Erin the most. Emily didn't look like she had a care in the world. She seemed proud of her disheveled appearance, knowing it only made her more alluring. Blue eyes beckoned Erin, who slammed the taxi door. Immediately arms found her neck again and pulled Erin in for another scorching kiss. The Texan clutched at Emily's body, lifting her legs and wrapping them around her waist. Their lips didn't break contact as she moved them toward the door of Emily's building. The doorman opened the door for them, but neither even acknowledged it. Moving through the lobby, they ignored their audience of the concierge and neighbors. In the elevator, Erin had to break their lip contact to press the right button to Emily's floor, but the attorney took the opportunity to attach her mouth to Erin's neck.

"Jesus, Em," the tall woman moaned. She was completely unprepared for how out of control she felt with Emily Parker. It unnerved her that she didn't feel as in command of her desires as she usually did, but the smaller woman felt incredible, just as she imagined she would. Hands groped her body through her pressed shirt, yanking it from her jeans. Nails scraped up her back as hips rocked into her stomach. Erin knew she had to regain the upper hand before Emily took them too far off her course. Pulling the blonde head away from her neck, Erin looked into blue eyes. Pink lips were parted, and Emily looked utterly wild. "God, you're beautiful," unexpectedly Erin whispered.

What? What is that look? Emily was taken completely aback at the statement, but her confusion was lost as Erin took action again, attacking her cleavage with her mouth. Erin, God, you feel good. When the elevator chimed alerting them to their destination, Erin walked them down to Emily's door.

"Keys," she requested.

Emily tried to focus as she dug into her purse for her house keys as Erin continued to kiss her. Pulling them out with shaky hands, she placed them in the expectant hand. With strength and finesse, the strong brunette managed to unlock the door while balancing Emily against the wall. Walking them inside, she repeated the process as she relocked it.

"Where's your bedroom?" Erin inquired, already starting to release her date from her clothing. She took the purse from Emily's shoulder and dropped it on the floor before her right hand went to the belt the blonde was wearing.

"Upstairs." Emily's hands began to free Erin from the confines of her clothes as the tall woman carried them up the circular staircase to the second floor. By the time they reached the bedroom, both of them were without their shirts with jeans hanging open.

Erin laid Emily against the king-sized bed and then took a moment to look into her face. She had never seen a woman so enticing. Starting at the woman's neck, she kissed over her shoulder and then down the center of her chest, kissing and licking a path down to her navel as hands worked jeans from her hips. "You smell so good," the heiress growled as her lips trailed over the top of Emily right thigh. She pulled the boots and jeans from the blonde's body. Her mouth lingered at Emily's feet, tenderly kissing the top of each before moving back up her legs. Erin's eyes took in the creation under her in the dark. Emily was lying in only her black lace lingerie set. She was erotic and beautiful. Meeting her lips again in another brutal kiss, Erin lowered her weight to take in the feel of the body under her own. When they broke for air, she murmured, "What do you want? I'll fulfill any fantasy."

"I want you naked," Emily growled as her hand shoved the jeans down off Erin's hips to make her point. The tall woman obliged. She climbed off the bed and clicked on the bedside light before standing at the foot of it to undress herself slowly. Blue eyes were enthralled at the display. Jesus, she's hot. So strong, so beautiful. I want you so badly, Erin.

When Erin finished disrobing, she climbed back onto the bed on top of her prize. The lace of Emily's bra scraped against the tips of her own breasts, sending a tremble through her. She was finding it more difficult than usual to concentrate on her typical game of divide and conquer. Emily was just so beautiful, it was completely disarming, but she managed to find some semblance of control. "Tell me what I can do to please you. I'll do anything, Emily. Just tell me what you want."

Oh, God. Please fuck me. Please, Erin. Emily was desperate but didn't want to appear so just then, so she found her voice. "Touch me, Erin."

"How?" she prompted as her hands managed to opened Emily's bra and discarded it. She immediately filled her large hands with warm flesh.

Emily arched into the caress as a mouth joined the exploration. "Erin," she whimpered.

"What, baby?" she whispered, her tongue flicking over the tip of her lover's breasts. She was rewarded with a cry. Erin was hungry for more. She latched onto the breast with fervor as her left hand worked on its twin. She could feel hands clutching her head tighter and legs wrapping themselves around her hips. The brunette moaned at the wetness against her stomach, even through the lace that separated them from what she desperately wanted. Erin was in ecstasy at the feeling of Emily. She was as she had imagined many times over their acquaintance. Feeling hands pushing her shoulders lower, Erin took the unspoken direction and headed south. Her fingers eased the last piece of clothing the blonde was wearing down over her hips as her mouth took in the landscape of toned stomach. When her lips met fine blonde curly hair, she groaned in torment. Emily smelled incredible, making Erin want to taste her firsthand. She never had unprotected sex, but Emily was too inviting. If she could have her without prophylactics, she wanted her. Pausing for a moment, she looked up into blue eyes. "You smell so good, and I bet you taste even better. I want you so much, Em, but if you're not clean, we can't. I won't," she said, holding her resolve but barely.

"It's fine. It's safe. I promise," she avowed breathlessly. I don't know if I can wait another second.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"I'm sure, Erin. I would never lie to you, especially not about that. Please, don't make me wait any longer," she begged.

Overcome with her own needs, the brunette lowered her mouth to the wetness that awaited her. She moaned at the taste. Starting slowly she leisurely traced the curves of her lover's treasure, taking in every part. She loved the way Emily's hips rocked harder as she teasingly circled her entrance. She could feel the blonde's stomach clench as her body rocked with heightened need. Risking a glance up toward Emily's face, she was unprepared for the sight before her. Blue eyes were tightly and mouth open gasping for breath. Her back was arced, and Erin could see the fair skin of Emily's breasts take on a more flushed hue as their tips changed from almost translucent to dark pink. She was beautiful, but Erin refrained from saying so as a hand found perch in her hair, directing her back to task. She knew she had a reputation to uphold and was not about to allow herself to get carried away by emotions, so she focused on Emily's enjoyment. The room felt as if it was spinning to Emily, even though she hadn't had that much to drink. She felt glad she was already lying down, because she doubted she would have had the strength to stand as the lightheaded feeling consumed her. Waves of pleasure rushed through her, starting from Erin's mouth and spreading warmth through her frame. No thoughts were even possible, just feelings. She had no idea that she was even calling her lover's name repeatedly as she neared peak or that she shoved Erin's head deeper into her when she felt that skilled tongue inside of her. Knowing she was about to climax, she begged for release, which came swiftly as Erin doubled her efforts. As her body convulsed, her first thought was, My God. She's good at that. Erin just paused, allowing Emily to revel in her orgasm, but as she sensed the blonde coming down off her peak, she slipped two fingers into her wetness as her mouth went back to work once again. Emily shivered and cried out at the invasion but was quickly lost once again to the delight of Erin's sexual prowess. However, as the brunette was working her steadily with her mouth and hand, Emily felt the tip of Erin's smallest finger rimming her other orifice. Before she could even question it, she felt her lover push into her until Emily felt the signet ring Erin always wore on her right hand nestled against the opening.

"Jesus, Erin," she cried at the triple assault on her senses.

"God, you feel so fucking good from the inside," the brunette rumbled, gasping for breath before diving in again.

"Please, baby, please, please," Emily panted as she felt another peak about to crash upon her.

"I've got you, Em. Come for me, baby."

The blonde climaxed a second time before Erin pulled her body up onto Emily's once again and placed a head against her shoulder. Both of them just tried to reclaim normal breathing for a few minutes, but when Emily had recovered enough, her hands trailed lightly over her lover's back before lifting Erin's head to kiss her. She could taste herself in her lover's mouth, and it only served to renew her desires again. She had Erin Mahoney in her bed for probably the only time ever, and she had to make the most of it. Wanting to please her lover, her right hand drifted between their bodies to one of Erin's breasts, but before she could do anything, she felt her lover's hand on her own, maneuvering it away from her mission. Instead Erin took her by both wrists and pinned them above her head "Let me go, Erin. I want to please you."

The brunette shook her head as dipped her lips into Emily's neck. "I'm not finished with you yet. Now be a good girl and promise not to touch until I've had my fill, and I'll let you go. It's either that or I tie you up. Your choice."

Intrigued at the thought, she weighed her options a moment, deciding she wanted to at least be able to feel the strong muscles of her lover's back under her hands while Erin pleasured her further, so she whispered, "I promise to be a good girl."

Instantly Erin let her wrists go. Smiling at her bedmate, she asked, "Do you have any sex toys?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Where?"

"In the bottom of the night stand." Emily watched as Erin opened the bottom drawer and rummage through them before coming up with a strap on.

"I knew it," she declared with a smile.

"You knew what?"

"That you were the kind of girl that liked cock every once in awhile as a change of pace."

"I've actually never tried that. I haven't met anyone I wanted to do it with yet."

"You have now," Erin answered, already opening the straps.

Emily just watched with nervousness as Erin slipped it on at first, but it quickly faded. Who am I kidding? I'd let her do anything to me. It was only a few moments before Erin had it on and was once again lying between her accommodating thighs. God, you are so sexy, Emily thought looking up at the brunette hovering over her.

Erin kissed her lover with tenderness before slowly escalating their passion again. She could feel Emily's body wrought with tension. Her hands caressed her gently as they kissed, tongues curling around each others as if slowly dancing. Feeling Erin's fingers probe into her, Emily broke their kiss to moan. Erin took in her neck. "I would never hurt you, Emily. If you don't like this, all you have to do is tell me, and I'll stop," she promised before replacing her fingers with the phallus. She pushed in slowly, feeling the muscles stretching to adapt to the size of the toy.

Emily instinctively arched up into Erin's body, causing the phallus to drive deeper. She grunted as it probed farther into her than any lover had ever gone. She clutched Erin's back closely with arms and legs, opening herself to whatever her lover wanted to do to her. Erin didn't disappoint as she pumped in and out with practiced ease as if the toy was a natural extension of her own body. The blonde completely lost all sense of time as her lover took her over the edge slowly several more times through a combination of her many talents. Finally when it was clear Emily couldn't go on any longer, Erin withdrew and dropped the toy onto the floor and spooned the exhausted woman. Emily could feel a hand gently rubbing her arm soothingly as Erin's lips dusted her wet neck with sweet kisses. Her last thought as she looked at the clock that read 3:00 AM was I never got a chance to please her. Something to look forward to tomorrow, I suppose.

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 25 kol 2012 01:40

Priča o dvije djevojke u Americi 1890. ..vrlo dobro opisan život u tadašnjoj Americi, radnička klasa, borba za egzistenciju i ženska prava....

The Last Train Home
by Blayne Cooper (Advocate)

It was full dark before Lindsay was moved from the surgery to a bed at the far end of the women's fourth floor east wing.Two prisoners lifted her from the gurney she was riding in and gently placed her on a bed clad only in dingy white sheets and topped by a thin pillow inside a pale pink pillowcase. Her head sank into the pillow and the sheet was draped over her. Lindsay let out a little moan and licked dry lips as the Ôorderlies' disappeared.She cracked open one eye and the room spun a little as she tried to gain her bearings. She had awoken to a world of hurt that reeked of bleach mixed with the metallic scent of blood.Where am I? Most of the ward's lights had been turned off, casting the unfamiliar, institutional setting in haunting shadows.Gone were the bridge and the railroad tracks, which were the last places Lindsay could truly remember being, though she had a vague recollection of being carried down the tracks, the cavernous but warm interior of a church, and a frantic wagon ride.
She blinked with exaggerated slowness, realizing that she was only seeing out of one eye.Her entire body ached and felt impossibly heavy and the room appeared to be draped in a dense haze. Lindsay tried to open her other eye and, when she couldn't open it at all, a surge of panic tore through her.What if she'd lost it in the fight?Her heart began to pound.What if the dogÉ?God.The room swam as she tried to sit up. "Damn," she cried out brokenly as a bolt of searing pain halted her movement instantly.Her abdomen felt as though someone was twisting a knife in it and her head throbbed.Where the dog had torn into her shoulder she could the tight, burning sensation of new stitches holding together tender skin.

"Now then," a nurse, whose accent clearly indicated she was from Queens, startled Lindsay. But despite the woman's somewhat grating tone, Lindsay was relieved to hear a voice, any voice, being directed at her. That means I'm not dead, doesn't it?

"You shouldn't move," the nurse chastised mildly.The woman was middle-aged and plump, her dress protected by a white apron that stretched to the floor. A crisp white hat sat atop her head of dull brown hair.

Cool air tickled Lindsay's legs as her sheet was pulled back.She fought the urge to cover herself."Clothes?"

"Those rags are long gone.But your soiled coat and shoes are under your bed." The nurse made a face."I'll see if we can't clean up the coat tomorrow so they won't be forced to give you a new one."

"They?"Lindsay's voice was weak.She thought she remembered several nuns hovering over her. Or was that years ago?"The church?"

"Hardly," the nurse snorted."I mean the State of New York."She tapped a syringe in her hand, removing the air bubbles."No one's told you anything, have they?"

Lindsay's silence was her answer.

"You're in the hospital on Blackwell's Island."

"Jail?" Lindsay squealed, again trying to sit up.

"No."The nurse gently coaxed her back down with a practiced hand."The hospital isn't part of the prisonÉ or the lunatic asylum," she assured before Lindsay could ask.Then her voice took on a slightly impatient edge."Now hold still."

Lindsay felt a prick on her thigh as a needle pierced her skin, then a stronger, burning sensation as a liberal dose of drugs, whose primary ingredient was morphine, was administered.

"What's your name?"The nurse lifted the chart from its holder at the end of Lindsay's bed and annotated the time and dosage of the medication."This says Ôunknown'" She quirked a grin. "You'd be surprised how many women in the State of New York decided to name their babies that.I swear sometimes it seems as though we're overrun with them. But somehow I doubt that's your real name."

A deep crease appeared on Lindsay's forehead as she thought.I know thisÉ I thinkÉ "IÉIÉ" The young woman's fear must have shown on her face because the nurse laid a comforting hand on her leg.
Lindsay tried not to jerk away from the unexpected contact, but her reaction was instinctive. She didn't like people touching her.That was dangerous.

"It's all right," the nurse said calmly.She lifted her hand from Lindsay's calf then continued to thumb through the chart. "Ahh. That explains it.You have a concussion among other things. I'm sure that tomorrow things will seem much clearer."She replaced the chart and tucked her pencil behind her ear.

"Okay.But-"

"You need to rest now.You've only recently come out of surgery."The older woman tugged Lindsay's sheet up to her chin and tucked its sides tightly into the thin metal bed frame.Then she pulled a threadbare blanket from the cart she'd left parked in the aisle and laid it over her patient."Hush now, or you'll wake up the others.Someone will be back around to check on you later.My shift is finally over."The Ôthank God' was left implied.

Surgery? Damn. I don't have the faintest idea of how I got here. I can't think about that now.They cut me open? Lindsay licked her lips to speak and caught a glimpse of a moving shadow."Wait," she rasped.So thirsty."My eye?"

But the nurse was already gone.

She whimpered a little, wondering how long until the drugs would take effect.Unwilling to follow orders without question, Lindsay refused to try to sleep.Instead, she took in her surroundings as best she could, pushing the pain into a manageable corner in the back of her mind. To one side of her bed was a plain white wall.At least that's all I seeÉ I hope that's all that's really there.She was, she finally discerned, at the very end of a long, dark ward filled with single beds.She couldn't muster the strength to turn completely over but she could shift just enough to see that in the bed next to hers, so close that she could reach out and touch her if she wanted to, was a fitfully sleeping woman. Lindsay took a moment to study her neighbor to determine whether her coat and shoes would be safe under the bed or ifshe'd have to sleep with them. Moonlight spilled over the stranger's drawn face, highlighting her slightly upturned nose and a small, delicate mouth and making her appear a ghoulish gray. Her breathing was harsh and thick and Lindsay idly wondered what tragedy had befallen her, causing her to end up hereÉ all alone. She's younger than me, I think. But with the same piss poor luck or she wouldn't be here at all.But the passing interest faded as the drug began to seep into Lindsay's bloodstream.Her chest and neck began to itch and she lifted a shaky hand to try and scratch them.Her brow furrowed when she fuzzily realized that her hand was wrapped in a thick bandage and her fingers splinted.How did that happen?Then she moved her hand upward to her face, still worried about her eye, which she could feel was completely swollen shut.She poked the tender flesh gently until she was more or less convinced that her eyeball itself was still there.Higher still, and she could feel that her head was wrapped in gauze. The constant thudding in her temples and the sharper pain below her breast were beginning to fade, and her eyelid began to grow heavy.But she continued on, her fingertips tracing her nose, which was splinted and bandaged. Now that she wasn't surprised about.In a blinding flash, she could see Jacque's heavy fist coming straight at her and hear the sickening crunch of cartilage all over again.An unexpected wave of nausea swept over her and she swallowed hard against it.She grimaced, causing her to feel the sting of two deep scratches that ran from just below her eye to her chin. A soft groan drew Lindsay's attention sideways to the next bed.The woman had turned from her back onto her side and was now facing Lindsay.String Bean frowned at the sound of the redhead's shallow gurgles.The breaths were wet and shallow, something that Lindsay could easily place now that her mind wasn't so preoccupied by her own misery.She'd heard it many times before, especially in the winter.Pneumonia.But then why are her hands bandaged? She blearily noted the covered appendages that were now sticking out from under the sheet. Finding it hard to concentrate as the sense of dislocation within her own body grew, Lindsay felt sleep's irresistible tug.She was about to give into it when she caught a glimpse of moonlight shimmering off the eyes of the women who had been sleeping.She blinked in surprise but held the stranger's pale, frightened gaze for several seconds before the woman's eyes fluttered helplessly shut once more.
Lindsay had a sinking suspicion that she would wake up and the bed next to her would be empty. Maybe I should call for a nurse.But wasn't a nurse just here?Everyone can't be saved, String Bean, the grim thought came unbidden, and she resolutely turned her mind elsewhere.Which wasn't hard, considering she now felt as though she was floating atop a wispy cloud, high above the earth and all its petty troubles.

"String Bean," she blurted out suddenly.A soft giggle bubbled up inside her.That's my name. She smiled to herself as the last bit of discomfort she'd been feeling floated away as if on a gentle breeze.Drugs, Lindsay decided as the mental fog she was drowning in finally reached out and claimed her, could be a very good thing.

Sunshine streamed through the windows of the women's fourth floor east wing at Charity Hospital.Lindsay awoke to the sound of a commotion coming from the bed next to her.Before she even opened her eyes she knew what it was.The girl who couldn't breathe is dead.There was no particular emotion tied to the thought.Save for the fact that Lindsay thought it was a waste and felt sorry for the soul who died all alone.Like I will someday.Like we all do. But then she heard a raspy, strained voice above what she assumed was the clamoring of medical staff.She made it.Whaddya know.

"You don'tÉ you don't understand." Virginia Chisholm's normally warm, somewhat husky voice was barely audible."I can't stay.My parents, the kidsÉ they-"

"Listen, young lady."The nurse straightened her back and crossed her arms over her chest as two other nurses threw their hands in the air and stalked away."You're still running a high fever and we almost lost you twice last night." She lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't you glad the doctor said you could have a small sip of water?"

Her patient nodded quickly. Lindsay rolled her eyes at the nurse's condescending tone. Apparently she'd missed a lot during her drug-induced stupor.Good.Her eye drifted to the clock above the door, which she could barely make out.It read four o'clock.Did I sleep an entire day?

"If we hadn't given you enough painkillers to fell a horse not an hour ago, I don't think you'd be so sassy now," the nurse informed Ginny tartly."Don't move and be quiet. Girl, you are staying here until a doctor says you're not."

"My name is VirginiaÉ Ginny."A weak cough."Not girl."

A grin twitched at Lindsay's lips and she turned her head to see who was giving the nurse such a hard time.She couldn't quite swallow the groan of pain the movement caused."Oh, nuuuuuuurse?I'd appreciate enough pain killers to fell a horse right about now," Lindsay called out.It came out more smart-ass than she intended it, but it was the God's truth.

The nurse spun around.It was the same heavy-set woman who'd given Lindsay a shot the night before."You're awake.Good.Now it'll be easier to change your bedpan."

Lindsay frowned.

"And annotate your chart and figure out if you have any familyÉ"

"Who can pay for my stay here at the Ritz," Lindsay finished wryly, groaning a little as her body shook with silent laughter.What did they do to my side? And my ribs? "Ugh."

"I don't understand what's funny about that," the nurse said crisply."Medical treatment is not free, you know." The nurse narrowed her eyes. "You and Ms. Chisholm here are going to be nothing but trouble.I can see that.NowÉ" She lifted an expectant eyebrow at Lindsay. "Family?"

"Nope.No family." Lindsay ground her jaw together to keep from cursing as a wave of fresh pain washed over her."My head is killing me and it's just little ole me in the great big wicked City."

"Am I supposed to write that here?" The nurse tapped Lindsay's chart, which was still in its holder at the foot of Lindsay's bed, with her pencil."Little ole me?I'll tell you my name if you like?" She hesitated, as though she was waiting for an answer, so Lindsay nodded."I'm Miriam Goletz.But you can call me Nurse Goletz."She smiled."See how easy that was? Now it's your turn."

"If it will help me to get my pain killers faster, I'll be anyone you like.President Cleveland even.But I really need something."Lindsay's voice dropped to a rarely used pleading tone.

The nurse's lips thinned as she continued to wait.

Oops."UmmÉI meanÉmy name is String Bean," Lindsay smiled triumphantly then quickly added as an after thought, "ma'am."Amazing how quickly pain has me kissing arse like there's no tomorrow.She hadn't even considered giving her birth name.It had been so long since she'd heard it spoken it didn't even seem like hers anymore.Has it really been so long?Six, nearly seven years?

The older woman shot Lindsay a self-satisfied smile before turning back to Ginny. It wasn't an actual name, but it was better than President Cleveland.

Ginny had quieted during the nurse's brief exchange with String Bean, which worried the hefty woman, especially considering how the girl had been kicking up a fuss about her family and a fire ever since she'd awoken."I'm going to ask the doctor if there's anything we can do about your fever, Ginny."The nurse laid a cool palm on Ginny's forehead, then she shook her own head ruefully."MmmÉ Still too high."

Ginny nodded as her eyes began to fill.She didn't feel hot; she was shivering.I'll bet the kids are cold.And scared."Hurry, please?I need to leave.I Émy family."

"Honey," the nurse gave Ginny a sad, sympathetic smile and her voice took on a kindly edge, despite her earlier gruffness."Your handsÉ they-"

Ginny lifted her hands and studied the white bandages with an almost disinterested air."Were burned," she finished simply.They didn't hurt really.There was only a slight bit of discomfort between her heavily wrapped fingers and she wondered briefly if the lack of serious pain was because of the drugs or the nature of the injury itself.The drugs, she figured.Her burns hadn't been that bad, had they?But then again, she couldn't be sure of anything at the moment. Everything felt fuzzy. Ginny thought hard, forcing herself to concentrate.There was a fireÉ And I tore Lewis' coatÉThe baby was with Mama.Oh, Mama.Why didn't you come downstairs?And who is that annoying woman in the next bed who doesn't even know Cleveland isn't President anymore? What did she say her name was? She snorted to herself as her mind flittered out of her control. A vegetable, she said. Beetroot? Lima Bean?That can't be right.God, I'm so confused. I need to get out of here.I'll bet no one knows I'm here at all.Alice would be here if she knew.

"Yes," the nurse confirmed, breaking into Ginny's mental ramblings, "your hands were burned and the inside of your throat.The back of your neck is blistered too.I'm afraid we had to cut your hair.You won't be going anyplace for quite sometime. Your injuries need to heal."

Ginny reached for her hair, but couldn't grasp it with her bandaged hands.She scowled.

Lindsay winced, imagining how it would feel to burn your hands and throat. Even worse than having the shit beaten out of you and being attacked by a rat dog, she guessed."Oh, nurse?"

The older woman whirled around again and shot Lindsay a disapproving look. "Can't you see that I'm dealing with another patient?"

Lindsay was glad she hadn't said Ôhelping' another patient.She might have had to take exception to that since, as close as she could tell, the nurse was merely nagging the sick girl. "Someone said surgery?" At least I think they did. Her headache was back and so was the splitting pain in her side with a vengeance. "What happened to me?"

"What didn't happen to you is a better question. You have animal bites and scratches on neck and shoulder. And I'm afraid a chunk of your ear is missing."

"What?"Lindsay screeched.

The nurse turned back and started to take Ginny's pulse. She spoke to Lindsay without turning around."Your doctor will be around shortly to explain your condition."

"There's more?Oh, Christ!"

"They'll be no blasphemy in this hospital, young lady," the nurse scolded before marching away.

Ginny coughed."Did you-" Her throat worked a few times before she could continue."Did you have to do say that?"

Lindsay awkwardly rolled over until she was at least partially facing Ginny."Ugh. That hurts." She jerked a thumb towards her own chest. "Are you talking to me?"She knew, of course, that Ginny was.But she didn't want to appear interested in talking to a stranger.Even though, given the circumstances, she didn't really mind now.

Ginny's pale, still disoriented eyes flashed with sudden anger."Yes," she ground out harshly. "If the nurse isÉ if she's mad at me, she won't help me get out of this place so I can find the kids."

"What did I do?" Lindsay queried honestly, feeling spurned and sorry she'd even bothered to acknowledge the girl."I just want some God damned medicine, that's all," she lashed back.

"Don't curse at me!"

"I wasn't!" But Lindsay's voice was contrite.Maybe I've been in the company of assholes for so long that I don't remember how to talk to a regular person anymore.Especially a woman.Females were something that String Bean rarely encountered on the rails.And the few that she had met had been just as vulgar and twice as mean as the men.

"Okay, then."Then Ginny's brows furrowed and she all but growled in frustration."I don't know what you did," she admitted frankly."I can't remember anymore." Her eyes fluttered shut. "I'm all messed up.But I know it was something, Cabbage Head," she whispered as the sounds of the rolling hospital carts and squeaky beds and muffled voices all faded away into nothing.

"Cabbage Head?Who would have a stupid name like that?"String Bean exhaled long and slow, mentally willing the nurse to return with a shotÉpainkiller or whiskey, at the moment she didn't care which.She stared at the ceiling, knowing that Ginny wouldn't hear her answer."Considering I always seem to be in some sort of trouble, I must be doing something wrong."

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 26 kol 2012 11:53

Kaubojke, konji, divljina, povratak prirodi ..baš bi bilo lijepo otići i imati ranč daleko od ljudi i grada i sa pravom kaubojkom :)

Wanted:
Cowgirl to teach riding, roping and wrangling.
Branding experience a plus.
Contact Rose Grant, personally, at the 120mi Ranch.


Rose slowed and then came to a stop resting her back against the stable's exterior wall. "I'm sorry she did that, Critter."

"She didn't mean any harm, it was a fair question of a possible suitor."

"Are you? I mean, after all this time can you still be interested in me?" Rose asked, her breath coming out in foggy wisps in the cold November air.

Critter scratched the back of her own neck and she looked at the surrounding area. "Do you know what happened the last time we were in this particular spot?" She took a few small steps forward getting very close to Rose. "I was against the stable like you are now, and your hands were…" She placed her hands on Rose's hips smiling as Rose took a shaky breath, "…well they were someplace a tad more intimate than this." She squeezed Rose's sides for emphasis, "And your beautiful lips were…" She found herself cut off as Rose demonstrated exactly where her lips were the last time they were alone.

Rose felt possessed as she spun Critter around and pressed her against the stable wall. She worked her hands up under Critter's shirt, moaning as she found the swell of Critter's breast. She broke the kiss and looked into Critter's half closed eyes. "I've dreamed of doing this for twelve years." She gently squeezed the soft flesh under her palms her cool skin warming against Critter's breast. She leaned forward again and pressed her lips softly against Critter's mouth.

Critter arched her back to press her breast more fully into Rose's hands as Rose's tongue danced across her lips sending luscious shivers down her spine to settle heavily between her legs. She opened her lips and accepted Rose's soft tongue into her mouth. She gathered Rose's shirt in her fist and pulled and pushed until she had one of Rose's thighs pressed against her sex. She let out a long moan into Rose's mouth as the taller woman pressed forward. She broke away from the kiss and clutched Rose close to her as a desperate rhythm developed between them.

Rose shifted slightly so she was against Critter's hip. Her forehead rested against the rough wood planking of the stable as their breath clouded the cold air. They hardly made a noise, no words were exchanged as first Critter stilled rigidly against her, holding her breath for a long moment while Rose continued her dance against Critter's hip for just a few more hard thrusts and let out a long breath as she found her release. Critter's breathing returned to her slowly as Rose backed away just a bit to look into Critter's eyes.

"That was unexpected." Critter whispered letting her head fall forward against Rose's chest.

Rose placed her hand on the back of Critter's head, her fingers played in the short blonde locks, "and unexpected is probably the best word. Are you okay?" She felt Critter's head nod against her, "We can't stand here all night." Rose said as the chill of the evening started to creep in around them.

"Can I… would you…" Critter found it hard to ask for the only thing she wanted since laying eyes on Rose the day before.

"Come on." Rose stepped away taking Critter's hand in her own, she wrapped her fingers around Critter's palm. "You'll stay with me tonight."

"What will Mrs. Maple say?" Critter asked wrapping her free hand around Rose's arm as they walked back to the main house.

"I don't care what she says." Rose smiled to herself as Critter's head fell against her shoulder. "She started it anyway." They quietly entered the house through the front door and made it up the stairs without incident and tipped- toed across the old wood floor, a floorboard squeaked under her left foot and she cringed, "Fuck me." This of course sent her partner in crime into a fit of giggles and Rose into a series of hushing noises as she tried to quiet Critter down. Then Mrs. Maple's voice came up the stairwell.

"Rose? Is that you?"

Rose stomped her feet and pumped her fist in the air as a stream of obscenities flew from her lips. She walked to the banister and looked over the edge down into the foyer and smiled a little too friendly at Mrs. Maple below. Critter continued her soft uncontrolled giggles. "Yes, Mrs. Maple, I'm just going to bed."

Mrs. Maple looked up at her with a distressed gaze, "I'm certainly sorry for…"

Rose waved her hand over the banister, "Don't worry about it, I was being silly." Rose nearly yelped and actually jumped a bit as Critter's hand caressed her backside. She regained her composure and quickly said her goodnight to Mrs. Maple, "I'll see you in the morning, and sleep well, Mrs. Maple."

"Good night to you too, Rose, I had one of the boys lay in some extra wood up there for you, it's suppose to be cold this evening. I wish you a peaceful night." Mrs. Maple said and then turned and disappeared out of sight.

Rose stepped away from the banister and pinned Critter with a serious glare. "You almost got us caught."

Critter smiled crookedly and said, "What would it have mattered, if you haven't noticed, we're adults."

A smile slowly crept onto Rose's lips, "Oh I noticed." She grabbed up Critter's hand and pulled her into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them and then pinning one feisty blonde cowgirl against it, "I very much want to explore this adult body you've grown into." Rose said as she leaned forward and kissed Critter's neck while she shucked off her coat.

Critter struggled out of her own coat, dropping it to the floor. She helped Rose free her arms from her jacket and then pushed Rose backwards to the bed where they landed with a squeak and squawk of old bed springs protesting the sudden weight. Critter broke into another fit of giggles, "Please tell me that Mrs. Maple lives in one of the other ranch houses."

Rose bounced up and down on the bed causing the springs to sing their song, "What would it matter? We're both adults." She said as she rolled Critter off to one side of her to land softly on the down mattress, the box springs sang out again.

"No wonder we never made out up here when we were kids." Critter's green eyes glowed softly in the warm light that the small fireplace produced.

Rose reached out and brushed some shaggy bangs away from Critter's face, "Can you imagine what my father would have done? He probably would have beaten me to a pulp for desecrating his house."

"I wish he would have been different." Critter said draping her arm over Rose's hip. "You didn't deserve any of the shit he put you through, and your mom…"

"She did the best she could, I don't blame her. He would have done more than whip me with that belt of his if she hadn't stepped between us that day." Rose said cuddling closer to Critter. "Let's not talk about that anymore. We're here now." She hooked her fingers in the waistband of Critter's jeans. "How about you get out of these clothes and I'll get you something more comfortable." She rolled off the bed and began pulling off her own clothes as she stumbled to the dresser. She tossed her shirt onto a nearby chair and pushed her jeans down her legs. She pulled her boots and jeans off one leg at a time as she pulled out the top dresser drawer. Rose rummaged around until she found two soft t-shirts. She hooked her toes of one foot in the top of a sock and pulled it down, and then repeated the operation on the other sock. She heard soft laughter come from behind her and spun around to scowl at Critter who was still lounging fully clothed on the bed. "And what may I ask do you find so funny?"

Critter let her laughter wind down and simply smiled at Rose, "If this is how you get undressed all the time, I want to secure front row seats for life."

Rose blushed and rolled her eyes, she turned back around and shucked off her bra, "Well I'm at least ready for bed." She pulled one of the t-shirts over her head and turned around once again and tossed the other t-shirt at Critter who snagged it out of the air.

Critter stood and walked toward Rose. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt as she approached. Critter's smile had turned from humorous to seductive as she opened her shirt to reveal a bare chest. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, letting them hang open and loose around her slim hips. She came to a stop in front of Rose and took one of her hands in her own. "I am no where near ready for bed." Critter said as she placed Rose's hand on her stomach then pushed it down into her open jeans, gasping as Rose pushed her palm against her, letting one finger to slip into her wet sex.

"Oh." Rose said softly as she felt the proof of Critter's arousal.

Critter's eyes drifted closed as she dropped her shirt from her shoulders. She felt Rose's other hand work to push her jeans off her hips, and they slid down her legs and pooled around her ankles.

Rose pulled her hand away from Critter's mound and pushed her back to the bed where she pulled Critter's boots, socks, and jeans off, creating a messy pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. She stood up straight and pulled her newly donned t-shirt over her head and pushed her panties off. Now she was as naked as Critter and was eager to feel her flesh against the blonde's. "Lay back." She commanded softly.

Critter did as asked and was plunged into bliss as Rose covered her with her long frame. "Christ in a hand basket." She exclaimed wrapping her arms around Rose's back.

Rose sighed as she settled against Critter. It was simply the most exquisite feeling she could remember, "Not to heavy?"

"No. Wonderfully perfect." Critter's right foot stroked up the side and then the back of Rose's calf. "I love your legs. They're so long and strong."

Rose smiled and slipped one of her thighs between Critter's legs. "You like 'em huh?"

Critter moaned, "I like your hands, too." Critter hinted as to what she desired.

Rose smiled as she shifted a little and brought her hand to where it had been just moments before. She hid her face against Critter's neck and placed a kiss there as her fingers gently parted Critter's folds and slid easily across slick flesh. "You're so wet."

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 26 kol 2012 23:58

Priča o odrastanju dviju djevojaka i otkrivanju vlastite seksualnosti ...

~ Together Alone ~
by A. Tietz (Birdee)

It had now been about 8 months since Matthew had passed away. Both girls had completely out grown any clothes and Mrs. Sinclair's were still too big, so much of the time they went without any. It was Sarah's 10th birthday and they spent much of it in the lagoon, splashing each other, diving and racing to see who was fastest.

"You…..let……me win…..cause it's my birthday. You….can win me any……time cause you're tall," Sarah lunged at the girl and they fell into the water again giggling.

"You're getting faster silly, you won," Megan insisted.

"Nah uh, you're just being nice," Sarah's eyes sparkled at her friend.

Grinning broadly, Megan hadn't seen such a look on Sarah's face since her father had died.

"I'm not nice, I'm mean, RAAAAAAA," Megan growled and lunged toward Sarah playfully.

"Come on; let's see how far we can go under."

It was one of their favorite games to swim underwater as far as they could without coming up for air. Pretty soon they would be able to swim all the way to the ship underwater, but today wasn't the day they would first do that. Sarah was out of the lagoon first with Megan following when she screamed, fell and clutched at her ankle. Realizing it was a very small shark still attached to her flesh; she ignored the pain, grabbed it before it got away and threw it onto the beach.

"MEGGIE…..MEGGIE!!!!!!!!!"

"Come on, lean on me….." Sarah started for the shelter.

"No go get the hammer," Megan groaned.

Sarah looked at the girl as though she were crazy, "Megan I can kill it, we have to stop the bleeding."

"I don't know if you're strong enough and I don't want you bitten too, go get it Sarah."

"Meggie I don't care about that bloody thing, we have to stop the bleeding," Sarah's face was a picture of fear.

Knowing the small shark was much needed meat Megan insisted, "Sarah, we need it and it's too close to the water, it might flop back," Megan's voice was urgent and authorative.

Sarah's fear turned to anger and before Megan could react Sarah had kicked the thing twice farther away from the lagoon looking back at her friend with the anger still flaring in her eyes. They got to the shelter and cleaned the wound, bound it and Megan took an anti-biotic. The whole time Sarah hadn't said a word and Megan knew she was in deep trouble.

"Sar, I'm sorry, but I just……."

"I'm not a baby Megan, I can do things too. You're taller, you're stronger but I help. I can kill it you watch!"

Sarah grabbed the hammer, walked out to the poor flopping shark and took her anger out on the half dead thing. She stomped back still a bit miffed and threw it near the fire pit then went about making the fire, cutting up some coconut and citrus fruit not even caring about the bugs, and working on getting the shark into the pot. Not able to cut off any part of the thing, it was so tough skinned, she finally just let it boil with its head sticking well out of the pot.

While they waited for the shark to cool enough for them both to work at cutting it up Megan asked for help getting her throbbing leg elevated. While the girl was close Megan put both hands on her face and looking earnestly into pretty hazel eyes still slightly smoldering, "You're right, I'm sorry. You're not a baby. You're my best friend I could ever get and I'm bloody stupid, sorry."

"You're not stupid Meggie, you're my best friend too," she quickly kissed a surprised blue eyed friend and said, "You can't stay hurt, you gotta get better, it's more important than food even."

A remorseful face frowned and let a few tears fall, then nodded agreement.

Sarah wiped the tears away kissing a cheek and tried to lighten the mood, "Ya reckon it tastes like fish then?"

Megan shrugged, "But we have to eat the bugger even if it tastes bad."

It provided 3 full meals and it tasted okay. Megan's foot kept her from doing anything, she even needed help getting up to go to the bathroom and needed Sarah's steadying hand when trying to squat on one leg. But Sarah enjoyed taking care of her friend, humming while she went about the various chores smiling often when she looked at her friend who always seemed to be watching her. Sarah would smile back with a warm feeling inside, she felt needed and loved being able to do things for Meggie; it made her feel so good.

"I'm sorry you have to do everything Sarah, I'll be better soon I reckon, I can almost walk on my own now," she looked at the healing wound and flexed her leg.

"I like doing all the stuff Meggie. Glad you're getting better, but it feels good to help you, makes me happy. But sorry I'm not good at fishin."

"Fishing's hard; I don't do good all the time either. Thanks for doing stuff, but I want to get better, it's boring."

They shared a hug and another quick kiss when it started to rain. The storm wasn't too bad so they weathered it at the shelter, singing songs, cutting off the split ends of the each others hair, brushing and braiding, playing 20 questions, drawing on each others back and finally falling asleep, with Sarah snuggling close her face almost buried in Megan's hair.

"AHHHH," Sarah exclaimed as the spear missed the fish just barely.

The bite was healing with only little puffiness and Megan escaped any fever or illness, she was almost better. So Sarah had helped Megan to the lagoon and she was sitting on a partially submerged rock and quietly encouraging her small friend, urging patience.

"I'm not as quick as you Meggie, I can't do it," Sarah pounded the water in her frustration with a few tears.

"Sarah, I can't do it quick all the time or we'd eat more. Its hard Sar, you're doing better, that was soooo close."

She had swum/crawled over to her friend and gave the girl a hug and kissed the top of her head.

"Snot fair, your muscles are stronger," still in the girl's embrace Sarah squeezed Megan's arm looking up at her friend with a not fair expression.

"You could catch fish too on the other side; I'm just scared for you to go by yourself. You can do it cause you're not a baby, but it's not good alone Sar."

"I know Meggie, but we haven't had meat in 5 days since the shark. There's no muscles, I gotta go to the other side I'm thinkin. I could help you to the top and you could watch me."

"But what if you fell, my bloody ankle isn't better enough to come get you and help. Same with me, I don't wanna go alone even when I'm better because it's steep to get down and we've slipped already."

They sighed and floated on their backs a while. That night they opened a bag of tuna to eat along with their coconut. It was only a few more days, then Sarah went fishing on the other side with Megan watching from the mountain top and they had fish for dinner again. Not long after that, they were both back to being hunters and food gatherers though Sarah refused to allow Megan to hunt for snakes. And the tall girl wisely didn't push the issue knowing Sarah was fearful of the danger and the worst case scenario, neither wanted to take the chance. Megan's 11th birthday was better given there was no shark bite. They splurged and washed their hair even though it wasn't time yet. The regime of shampooing once a month and washing with soap a different time during the month had left them 2 and a half shampoo bottles where there had been 4, 2 and a half bottles of soap where there had also been 4. Wash days were always fun, they'd swim out to the ship then stand on the rocks and have a shampoo, washing hair first then using the rest of the lather to wash the body. It was too rocky in this spot to dive off, but being all soapy they'd get in the water and swim back to the beach. Matthew said being out by the ship nearer the waves would help keep the lagoon from getting contaminated by the chemicals in the soap. On body soap wash days, they would go to the other side of the island where the waves broke onto a partially sandy but rockier beach, the more turbulent waters quickly carrying away the suds. It had only been two weeks since they last washed but Sarah had said it would be fun to smell good and clean on Megan's birthday so they finished washing then played tag in the lagoon for a while. Later that day Sarah asked the birthday girl to stay at the shelter while she did an errand and a puzzled Megan complied.

"Okay Meggie, close your eyes," Sarah yelled before she was in eye sight.

Megan had a look of anticipation though her eyes were shut when Sarah knelt in front of her.

"K, open," Sarah said with a smile.

Megan opened her eyes to find Sarah holding a bunch of flowers with a wide grin splitting her face.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Meggie, Happy Birthday to you," Sarah leaned in and kissed her friend missing her lips and getting her nose.

They laughed.

"Here," Sarah placed a flower stem behind each of Megan's ears.

"Now you do me."

Megan put the white blossoms in Sarah's hair the same way.

"Now we smell pretty and we look pretty, let's dance," Sarah took Megan's hand and started singing as they danced with each other, but they made up their own dances, leaving the memory of the waltz, the tango and the twist with Matthew this year.

This time it was an applesauce cup they opened and shared then they lay on the grassy knoll of the mountain top and watched the puffy clouds go by as the sun began to paint the sky flaming gold and dip into the water.

"It's a bird, its big, look at the wing, see on that side."

"Haaa haaa, I thought it was a surf board with a big head, look," Megan giggled and pointed out the shape.

"Hey that one looks like Tele Tubbies, look," Sarah grinned.

"I don't like Tele Tubbies, it looks fake."

"They're not spossed to be real Meggie, they're funny. Like the one they flew to the moon. Their space ship was tin foily."

Megan sat up looking across the whole sky for the moon, but it wasn't out. So they built a fire as the breeze began to grow and they huddle together falling asleep until the rain woke them extinguishing their fire. They cautiously felt their way to their shelter in the dark and spent the remainder of the night huddled together in a dry spot with a blanket, which they decided needed a bath when it stopped raining. The rainy season had started again, they had left most things in the cave since Matthew died but they had brought some clothes out for using as pillows, the real pillows having gone the way of the mattresses, some utensils, some water jugs, and some tools. Each time a storm came, more than the normal rain, they would pack all these things back to the cave with them and wait out the harsh wind, rain and waves. It was unusual for a storm to last more than 3 days during which they had playing cards and dice and a warped backgammon game, which Matthew had taught them to play. There was usually a week or several days between real windy storms so they were able to use as little of the food stores as possible spending hours making sure they caught fish, crab, or occasionally trying their luck at diving for clams. November came and it was their first day out of the cave in 4 days so they went swimming in the lagoon and fishing out by the ship. Megan was going about getting set up for fishing and dropped the line in the water catching one fish almost immediately. It had been almost about a half hour waiting for another fish alone cause Sarah had disappeared into the ship. She did that sometimes and Megan usually let her be, but this time was different. Megan headed for the master bedroom knowing that's where she'd be due to the knocking sound. When she first heard it she had shouted to see if Sarah was okay and the girl said she was fine, she was just hitting the rock in the bedroom. Megan thought this strange but had kept fishing. Sometimes the sound was faint, sometimes loud, sometimes silent like now.

Megan saw the blood first, "Sarah!!!!!!"

"Sokay, snot too bad," Sarah dropped the rock she'd obviously been using to hit the large pillar rock that had kept the ship from slipping away all these years.

They had stripped the ship of everything and there was nothing to help stop the bleeding, "Come on we gotta get back," Megan was alarmed.

Sarah's gaze went from her hand back to the rock several times with a frown deepening by the moment, "Bloody ROCK," was the angry shout before Sarah dashed out of the ship, plunged into the water and headed toward the beach leaving Megan puzzled and still alarmed.

Depositing their dinner by the fire pit Megan went searching for the injured girl and heard crying as she approached the cave. Sarah was sitting on top of her father's clothes that she had obviously tossed in the middle of the cave floor. As Megan approached her cautiously Sarah's tearful eyes looked pained into her own and Megan struggled to keep her own emotions from overwhelming her. Sarah was still bleeding, not having paid any mind to her hand. Megan took an old shirt of hers, a bottle of water and gently began working on the hand.

But Sarah jerked her hand away, "It doesn't matter, it's just a stupid cut. I don't care, I hate this place. Bugs and snakes and stupid rocks, stupid, stupid rocks and stupid boats and stupid water. Maybe I'll die too, before another stupid storm. It'll come bad again and we might die, you watch. It'll happen again, it will, it took mummie then daddy and……maybe, maybe it'll take ……….I don't care, I don't wanna be here," she was screaming at the ceiling of the cave.

She used her injured hand to repeatedly beat the man's old clothes muttering the word stupid through the pain and tears. Megan was bewildered and scared and not knowing what to do she watched the girl feeling helpless. Sarah stopped after a short time clasping her injured hand in obvious pain; she'd just made it worse. Megan took the opportunity to shove an old shirt into the girl's hand before Sarah started hitting something again then quickly pulled the overwrought girl into an embrace and held on saying nothing. At first Sarah resisted, but quickly dissolved into deep sobs and Megan held on wiping away her own tears occasionally as the pain of her friend made her heart feel really bad.
When the girl was calmer Megan led a dejected friend to the beach and, in silence, cleaned the wound. She kissed the back of Sarah's injured hand, put her cheek on the hand and didn't move, then kissed it again and her own tears fell upon Sarah's skin. Megan wiped them from Sarah's hand with a caress, though tears still fell from blue eyes. She placed the injured hand gently back in the girls lap and looked into red eyes not knowing what to say or do. They shared the same pain with no words still looking at each other when Megan's stomach voiced its hunger to them both so the tall one set about making dinner still in silence. Sarah sighed and let her head fall back to rest on the log closing her eyes.
Megan finished cooking and brought both fish with her, sitting close her friend. She ate her fish, not disturbing Sarah who hadn't moved. Finally with a sigh Sarah raised her head and found Megan sitting opposite her. Tears were falling silently from the dark haired girl as she picked up a bite of fish and put it to Sarah's mouth eyes pleading for Sarah to eat. The smaller girl took the offering and chewed with closed eyes repeating this for several bites as the sun began its journey into the sea. Sarah would only eat half her fish and Megan kindly making no protest. She saved the fish for tomorrow morning and cleaned up dinner. After stoking the fire, Megan sat quietly beside her friend who was staring out at the horizon, the bright colors of sunset now fading into the ever darkening twilight. When Sarah's head rested on Megan's shoulder with a sigh Megan gently readjusted them both putting herself behind Sarah using the log as a back rest. Secure in the long arms of a quiet friend Sarah leaned her head back on Megan's chest and closed her tired eyes.

Before long Sarah's breathing was a little shallower and thinking it was safe Megan kissed the blonde head and whispered, "It matters to me Sarah, it always matter to me."

After the 4 days in the cave, Megan fished at the ship and Sarah gathered fruit and picked up a few missing parts of their shelter. She also covered the waste hole and decided to wait for Megan to decide where it would be next. Megan had caught two fish quickly and was about to give up on a third as she sighed looking out over the horizon to the sun hanging above the water with the beginnings of sunset when she froze. It was a dot on the horizon but it was a ship, that's all it could be. Screaming for Sarah she quickly swam back to the beach met half way by the blonde.

"Sarah, Sarah it's a ship!!!!!!! I….I saw it, its far…..but lets go!"

They scrambled to the mountain top feverishly trying to get the fire going, not able to use the setting sun and the mirror to start the flame; they labored the hard way to get it ignited. Sarah saw the distant dot to that had made its journey to the northwest though the light was fading. By the time they were able to get it caught and a blaze going, the sunset had faded and it was almost fully dark. They looked at each other silently then Sarah looked forlornly at the 4th flagpole missing its sheet from the latest storm. They had chased it down 3 different times over the last month since it was their last sheet. It was gone and so was the speck on the horizon.

"Maybe its better at night Sarah, they can see the flame I hope," Megan tried to be positive she hated the sadness in her friends gaze.

The following days were quiet, both girls daring to hold to a thread of hope that they were wrong and the flame had been seen. But not wanting to raise the others hopes or even admit their own, not many words passed between them. Neither one would say it, but they knew it had been too late, the ship too far, no one would be coming for them, they were still alone. Megan reached up to scratch her nose, but stopped herself, knowing she needed to be sure it was Sarah's hair and nothing else tickling her. She slowly opened one eye holding her breath, but it was only golden hair splayed across her face. She moved it, which caused Sarah to sigh and just snuggle closer. She smiled and stroked dirty hair not wanting to move though she really needed to go to their waste hole. Her mind wondered to their recent days, it had been sad again, they still were alone, it was still hard and they still got hungry and had to always work. They hadn't even celebrated Sarah's 11th birthday and they needed to have fun. She gently rubbed Sarah's back then tickled her neck slightly. Sarah's sleepy eyes looked at her friend and knew without a word they needed to go potty. Again no words were spoken as they went about their morning's routine of potty, having a dip in the lagoon to clean off the waste splashes and preparing something to eat.

"Let's wash our hair, come on," Megan took Sarah's hand and they swam out to perform their normal routine. From the ship, it was a race back to the beach underwater to see who made it first. It was Sarah because Megan got distracted when she dropped the shampoo bottle and went to retrieve it. Unknown to Sarah, she picked something else up off the bottom.

"You let me win again, I know………cause you're way slower than me…. this time, don't lie."

"I dropped the shampoo, but you're getting faster, you grew I think."

They measured and Sarah, who was usually a head shorter than Megan, had caught up by about 2 inches.

"See told ya," Megan reached out and wrapped her friend in a big hug and started to hum.

"Snot my birthday anymore silly," Sarah said content to let her feet dangle off the ground.

Megan kept hold of the girl and gently twirled them around picking up the pace as she burst into a round of her own version of the happy birthday song, "Happy Happy Happy day, Birthday day, to Arfy, Happy Birthday to you now cause its not raining, Happy Birthday to My Arfy so she can smile, Happy Birthday My friend Sarah, Happy Birthday to you."

Dizzy from the spin they fell on the sand laughing. Sarah's smile got broader over the course of their day as they built sand castles and they buried each other in the sand except for the face, Megan put the smaller growing girl on her back and they jumped off their favorite rock into the lagoon, and Megan sang Sarah another birthday song underwater with only going up for air twice. This birthday the treat was applesauce and a granola bar they shared by the fire. It had cooled off this evening, which happened sometimes. Megan sat on a big fat log that had washed up on the shore after a storm last year, not too far from their shelter, with Sarah on her lap. They watched the fire a while and then Megan brushed Sarah's hair which made the blonde fall asleep against her friend sitting on the sand leaning back on the log now. Megan let her be for a while then picked her up though it was a struggle and went to their shelter.

Sarah snuggled close and said through a sleepy yawn, "You always make me feel good, n smile, love you."

Megan snuggled back enjoying how soft the shampoo made Sarah's hair, thrilled she had made Sarah smile all day. It almost felt like old times. That hadn't happened since before Matthew died a year and a half ago. Megan sighed and held the sleeping form in her arms a little closer while her mind thought of the past year and a half, how different Sarah had been. How hard it was to get her friend to smile, to laugh and be happy. In the weeks and months since they lost him Sarah had been sul. at first, numb, they both were. Then they went about the business of surviving not talking about his death. They were on their own, trying to beat the odds. No grown ups to look after them. They had both turned more serious and become more consumed with their plight, Megan especially mindful of all Matthew had taught them. Sarah had always been the one looking for fun, games to play, things to pretend, enjoying life as a little girl, someone's child. Smiles seemed easy for Sarah, they always had, she was a sweet, friendly, happy girl. But now she worked hard along side Megan following the girls lead much quieter than the normal chatty girl. It was Megan who was the one to suggest play now, or initiate it. And though they did play some Sarah was different, not as carefree, not as innocent. There was always a wariness now. It made Megan sad; she missed the old Sarah, her fun loving happy friend.
There had been plenty of tears since Matthew had been gone, a lot of sorrow, especially for the one who had lost the most. Megan didn't like the change in her friend, it hurt, Sarah just wasn't the same. It even seemed like Sarah didn't want to care about anything but she helped anyway, always following, always there to lend a hand. But Sarah would also seek time alone it seemed. The blonde would sometimes wonder to the flagpole without telling her friend and Megan would find her just sitting staring out to sea. Megan was at a loss and would watch the small form from a distance, not sure what to do, other than make sure the girl was safe and she near by in case Sarah needed her. Once Megan found Sarah sitting in the middle of her father's clothes in the cave in silence. She hadn't disturbed the girl but she waited near to the cave, looking for food watching for snakes and even catching one. When Sarah returned to camp finding Megan cooking the meat she didn't ask what it was, her face was a mask of sadness. And that night had been one of several where Megan held on as Sarah wept. The tall one's 12th birthday was celebrated in much the same way as Sarah's 11th and the subsequent days and weeks were filled with chores, hunting, sometimes races, a few games, explorations, rain, storms, and even another close call with being found.

They were on the east side of the island hunting crab when Sarah's sharp ears heard something out of the ordinary, "What's that, you hear it?"

Megan's right ear had always had a slight hearing loss, shaking her head she looked at her companion puzzled.

"It's not close, but its sounds different."

Both sets of eyes looked toward the water's horizon as far as their beach vantage point allowed.

"Come on, lets go to the top," they scampered as quickly as caution allowed up to their perch, the sound growing a bit louder.

Megan heard it barely, thinking it was a ship and told Sarah to look while she ran down to the cave to get the mirror. Upon her return Sarah was squinting up at the sky, which was covered intermittently with a thin layer of very high clouds.

"Hurry Meggie, it's a plane, it came closer than now, I shouted and waved," Sarah was excited and grabbed the blanket Megan had brought up.

Megan looked at the retreating plane and quickly aimed the sunbeam at the target. The mirror was quicker than friction but it still took the sun's rays time to get a smoky smolder and finally a flicker of flame and the plane and sound had started disappearing already when the fire was finally beginning to flame. Sarah was still looking to the northeast jumping and waving the blanket, she followed her gaze but Megan's eyes weren't as good as Sarah's.

"Do you see it, where is it Sarah," Megan said as she blew upon the flame, "Sar, wave the blanket this way so it fans the fire, yeah."

She couldn't hear the sound anymore and Sarah wasn't looking at the sky, the girl's excitement was fading, and she didn't know whether to hope or not as she said, "It wasn't real close but not too far either, it was small, not a big, big one and it was white. I threw dirt in the air cause I didn't have anything."

"You waved the blanket even though it was leaving, I don't know Sar. We did our best, they maybe saw the smoke," Megan's voice didn't sound as optimistic as her words tried to be.

They silently went back to work each in their own thoughts and as the days wore on; the only thing spoken about the close encounter to rescue was that they needed to be more aware of the ocean, the horizon, the sky. After burying the mirror up on the mountain top near an unusual shaped rock, Sarah seemed far away in the days that followed this. Not seeking Megan's embrace at night, wondering to the mountain top often and staring for hours. She was often there beside Megan as she fished watching for unfriendlies, but the girl was extremely quiet. The offer of racing or playing games was usually turned down and Sarah would just sit and stare usually asking to be alone. A few weeks were consumed this way making Megan's heart heavier each day.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/a_tietz_ ... alone.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 27 kol 2012 19:47

Vrlo dirljiva priča o dvije djevojčice koje je život razdvojio ...

Mended Hearts
By Alix Stokes

August 31, 1975
Boston Children's Hospital
Surgical Floor

The tall, handsome surgeon stepped off the elevator of the fourth floor. A beautiful seven-year-old girl with raven hair and cerulean blue eyes followed closely behind him.

"C'mon sweetheart," he urged, taking her slender hand. She quickly obliged and gazed up at him, smiling and revealing that her two front teeth were missing. The missing teeth did nothing to detract from the child's natural beauty.

The little girl was in her element. She was making rounds with the most important person in her life: her father. He was also the best pediatric heart surgeon in the country.

"Where are we going first, Dad?" she lisped. The missing teeth affected her normally perfect enunciation.

He smiled fondly at his eldest offspring, a female carbon copy of himself in both looks and brains. He had begun grooming her for a career in medicine at the tender age of three. She was more than up for the challenge.

"Let's look in on my VSD patient first."

"Okay, Dad." She looked up at him with wide, blue eyes. "That stands for Ventricular Septal Defect," the youngster announced proudly. "There’s an opening in the Ventricular Septum of the heart," she lisped. "Blood flows through the opening from the left ventricle to the right." The proud father nodded, affectionately rumpling his precocious daughter’s hair as she followed him into a cheery room. Disney murals decorated the lemon yellow walls of the pediatric unit.

In the middle of a large, crib-like bed sat a small, golden-haired girl who looked to be about four years old. She had huge green eyes and long, wheat colored lashes. The little girl was wearing a pair of pale pink baby doll pajamas. She was painfully thin, and her lips had a decided bluish tinge to them. In her ears was a toy stethoscope, which she was using to "listen" to the heartbeat of her stuffed brown dog. She looked up sagely as the surgeon and his daughter approached.

"Are you gonna fix Noah's heart, too?" she asked, looking at her dog.

"Sure, little one, if you want me to." The handsome doctor leaned over the crib to "examine" the stuffed animal.

"Then can he play, and not get tired anymore?" the tot asked in a winsome, lilting voice.

"Then he'll be as good as new," the dark haired girl quipped confidently. "And so will you!" She carefully climbed onto the bed with the little blonde and sat next to her. There was an instant bond forged between the two small girls as they smiled at one another for the first time. One tiny hand slipped into a larger, slender one. The two small hands intertwined. "Then we can be best friends forever!" the older girl announced.

"Forever." The blonde tot leaned forward and bestowed a kiss on the older girl's cheek, smiling sweetly. "Forever and ever!"

24 Years Later...

You know that it would be untrue. You know that I would be a liar. If I were to say to you, girl we couldn't get much higher. C'mon baby light my fire. C'mon baby light my fire. Tryin' to set the night on, fire!

The haunted strains of Jim Morrison echoed through the operating room. It was the music 31-year-old Alexandra Morgan preferred to listen to while performing surgery. Outside, a heavy thunderstorm raged and threatened the electricity. Of course, there was generator backup available at all times, but the storm was making the tall, dark haired surgeon even more prickly than usual. The ice-blue eyes narrowed as the wrong instrument was placed in her slender right hand. If looks could kill, the poor nurse assisting her would have been dead on the spot. Fortunately, she corrected her mistake quickly and Dr. Morgan decided to hold her tongue. The nurse wondered if she'd be subjected to a dressing down later. She hoped not. Almost everyone in the hospital feared the beautiful, extremely successful surgeon. She was 6 feet tall with long, raven hair, clear bronze skin, and crystal blue eyes. Her height alone was intimidating. Incredible beauty and keen intelligence made her even more so. She was a pediatric heart surgeon and the best in her field. She accepted the difficult cases no one else dared. The enigmatic woman completed her residency in Massachusetts at Boston Children's Hospital. She had transferred to Atlanta, Georgia six months prior. Egleston Children's Hospital was naturally ecstatic to have the brilliant surgeon, a magna cum laude graduate of Harvard Medical School. However, some of the staff who had to work under her weren't quite as thrilled. The only people she was really warm to were her patients and their families. There was one exception to this rule. Dr. Morgan had decided to close today. She didn't want her tiny patient to have a noticeable scar. Little Sara might wish to wear a swimsuit someday, she reasoned. The tall surgeon was remarkably gifted with a needle, leaving a minimal scar every time. After her work was completed, Alex left the operating theater without a word to anyone. Nurse Erin Dunson breathed a huge sigh of relief; she would not be subjected to the mercurial doctor’s temper today. After washing up, Alex headed for the locker room to change. She slipped into a pair of black slacks, a black turtleneck, and black boots. Her crisp, white lab coat accentuated the outfit. The doctor took the elevator to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. She needed to check on one of her patients, two-year old Jon Thomas, to see if he was ready to be moved to a regular room. She entered the noisy, brightly lit unit. The first thing she noticed was the lilting voice of a young golden haired nurse with sage green eyes. She knew the voice well. It belonged to 28-year-old Bryn O'Neill, a Pediatric Intensive Care nurse who occasionally floated to the regular surgical floor. However, cardiac cases were her specialty. She was dedicated, warm, kind, and intelligent. More importantly, Dr. Morgan found that whenever Bryn cared for one of her small patients, they left the hospital a day earlier than usual. She often wondered what the scientific reasoning was behind that. It happened with every case. Bryn knew. The young nurse was a storyteller; she would have been called a bard in ancient times. It occurred to her early in her career, that telling sick children a legend or a fable might soothe their pain and fear. Her theory had proved so successful that she had written a thesis on it.

Dr. Morgan examined her tiny sleeping patient, and then smiled at Bryn. She had continued to weave a fantastic tale throughout the child's entire examination. "I think this little one likes your story telling, Bryn," the tall surgeon quipped as she removed her stethoscope from her ears.

"Really? What makes you say that?" the petite nurse asked, blushing slightly.

"He's sleeping peacefully, his heart rate and blood pressure are steady, and his color's great. He's ready to be moved to a regular room."

"Ahem, I did write a thesis on the healing effects of story telling after surgery. The kids I care for do tend to go home earlier, but the reason I do it is because I like to comfort them in anyway I can."

Dr. Morgan smiled. "You have such a soothing voice. It seems to work minor miracles. In fact, I’d like to read this thesis of yours. Do you happen to have a copy here I could look at? I have a three-day weekend coming up and some free time for a change."

"No, but I have one at home. I could run it by your house if you'd like."

"I'd like that if it's no trouble, Bryn."

"It's no trouble, Dr. Morgan," she answered softly. "I'll come by after you finish rounds if you give me a call."

"Thanks, I will. Oh, and please call me Alex. I've been calling you Bryn since our first lunch together, and you're still calling me Dr. Morgan."

"Okay, Alex it is then. I just...um... hate being called Nurse O'Neill. It sounds... old!"

The tall, dark haired surgeon grinned crookedly. "Bryn. I like that name." It seems vaguely familiar. Alex adjusted the toddler's I.V., and then stroked little Jon’s hair gently.

Bryn had been trying unsuccessfully to figure out where she had seen Alex before. It was odd. She watched the tender ministrations of the beautiful doctor with awe. She doesn't seem like an Ice Princess to me, the young nurse thought. That was the nickname some of the staff had bestowed on the woman because of her stoic, reserved attitude. Bryn didn’t even want to think about the other nickname Alex had garnered – ‘The Breathtaking Bitch’. Although she is breathtaking!

"Oh, by the way. I'm listed in the phone book under E. B. O'Neill at 350 Whispering Pines Way."

"E.B. O'Neill?" she teased. "What does the E. stand for? That is, if you don't mind telling me." She suddenly felt shy.

"No, it's fine. Elizabeth."

"Well, Elizabeth Bryn O'Neill, I'll see you after work." As the beautiful surgeon smiled at her, Bryn’s heart skipped a beat.

Alex Morgan was exhausted. As she changed into a worn pair of denim jeans and a long sleeved blue tee shirt, she felt the beginnings of a headache behind her liquid blue eyes. Not another migraine. She had been plagued with the God-awful headaches for years, and lately they had gotten worse. Opening the medicine chest in her bathroom, she took a couple of pills from a bottle, filled a glass with water, and swallowed the medicine down. Looking in the mirror she noticed the pallor of her face in stark contrast to her long dark tresses. The past week had been absolutely grueling, and she looked forward to a long weekend off. She was also eagerly anticipating Bryn’s arrival. During the past month the two had had lunch together whenever possible. Bryn was outgoing, bubbly, and very sweet. Alex had a great deal of respect for the young woman because of her intelligence and her devotion to her patients. Plus, she had a great deal of spunk. She wasn't intimidated in the least by the stoic, dark haired woman. More importantly, she lifted the surgeon’s spirits; something that no one else was able to do. Alex just hoped that her headache wouldn't interfere with the chance to get to know Bryn even better. The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Alex turned and hurried to answer the front door.

"Am I early?" Bryn smiled as she glanced down at Dr. Alexandra Morgan's bare feet.

"No," Alex blushed. " You're fine. It's just... after standing on my feet all day..." She shrugged and smiled awkwardly.

"It's okay." Bryn giggled. "I understand completely. Lots of days my feet are killing me by the end of my shift."

Bryn was dressed in a snug fitting pair of faded denim jeans and a sea green tank top. A green plaid shirt topped off the look. She wore the shirt open. With her long, reddish gold hair curling around her shoulders, Alex thought she looked adorable. Every time she looked at her she felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Come on inside, Bryn. Can I get you anything? I have coffee, soda, Snapple, wine, and Coors Lite."

"I'd like a Coke if you have one."

Alex took two Cokes from the refrigerator and handed one to Bryn. She was hoping the caffeine would help her headache, which had only gotten worse. The two women sat down at the kitchen table in Alex's sparkling blue and white kitchen. Most of her home was decorated in shades of blue and white and furnished simply but elegantly. Everything was neat and organized as one might expect from the home of a surgeon.

"Thanks for coming by, Bryn." Alex smiled at the petite nurse.

"You're welcome." Bryn smiled back. "I was just planning on spending a quiet evening at home anyway. I thought maybe I'd write some more stories to tell the kids."

"By the way, did you bring the thesis?"

Bryn dug into her purse and pulled the disc out. "Here you go."

"Great. I can't wait to read it. I’ll return it as soon as I’m finished."

"Actually, you can keep it. I made an extra copy for you."

"Thanks! I'll just go put this in my office."

Alex returned and sat down next to Bryn. Unfortunately, her head had begun to throb painfully.

As Bryn drank her Coke, a look of concern crossed her face. "Alex, are you all right? You look kind of pale." She leaned over and felt Alex's forehead.

"Huh?" Alex started at the cool touch of Bryn's fingers against her skin. "I'm okay. It's just a migraine. I get them sometimes."

"Just a migraine? That seems pretty major to me. Would you like to lie down?" Bryn placed a hand gently on Alex's shoulder.

"No, I'll be fine." Alex hated lying to Bryn but she kept up her stoic facade. Dr. Morgan knew of no other way to respond.

"Well, you sure don't look fine," Bryn, said as she felt Alex's forehead again. "Did you take something for the pain?"

Alex put her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. "Yeah, before you came I took something. This was just a very stressful week for me."

"I know. I heard about your heart transplant patient. Claire told me you were at the hospital until one this morning." Claire Richards was a close friend of Bryn's who also worked in Pediatric Intensive Care. "Was it post-op bleeding?"

Alex nodded. "There was just so much scar tissue from previous surgeries. I thought I'd never get it stopped. I finally managed to though."

"I'm glad. But you must be very tired and you don’t look well. I’ll go home so you can lie down."

"I'm okay, Bryn. Maybe I'll feel better in a little while. I'd really like for you to stay." Truthfully, Alex felt terrible. But she didn't want Bryn to leave.

"I'll stay if you want me to, but only if you lie down." I need to stay here and make sure she's okay, Bryn thought to herself. Besides, I'd love the chance to pamper her. " Is it a deal?"

Alex decided not to waste energy arguing with the stubborn little nurse. She had heard many rumors around the hospital about her persistence and feistiness.

"All right, Bryn." She grinned crookedly. " I'll lie down on the couch and you can keep me company." There was an easiness and a level of comfort between the two already.

"Good." Before Alex could protest, Bryn had made a cozy looking bed on the couch for her. "Now lie down."

Alex raised an eyebrow at Bryn but complied anyway. Bryn plucked a soft afghan from a chair and covered the tall surgeon with it.

"There! Are you comfortable?"

Alex was amused and flattered. Here was this beautiful woman coddling her and she loved the attention. "I'm very comfortable, Bryn. Thanks."

"How's the head?" She kneeled beside the couch and gently touched Alex's forehead.

"It's...it's...pretty good." Alex swallowed audibly.

Bryn's sparkling green eyes peered down at her and she felt her throat go dry. As close as they were, she could see a light dusting of very pale freckles across Bryn's cute, upturned nose. Long, wheat colored lashes brushed her cheeks whenever Bryn lowered her eyes. Alex resisted a strong urge to reach out and hug the petite blonde.

"Can I get you anything else?" Bryn asked sweetly.

"A defibrillator," Alex murmured under her breath.

"What did you say?"

"Umm...nothing, Bryn. I’d like a wet washcloth, if you don't mind. They're in the bathroom down the hall."

"Okay. I'll be back in a jiffy."

Could she be any cuter? I could be in very deep waters here, Alex thought as she sighed. Very deep waters!

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=413 ... hearts.htm
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 28 kol 2012 21:52

Potresna priča o Kubi, siromašvu, represiji, ljubavi

HABÁNAME (Havana Me)
by Ana Ortiz

Chela straightened out her dress, and reflected on that first stormy night that had brought Barbara into her life. In truth, Cubans would have left me bleeding to death on that sidewalk out of fear that interfering might "bring problems". And most foreigners would have turned away as well. I am lucky in so many ways. As, I think, she may be as well. As she readied to leave the apartment and wait in the alley, she stopped and flipped open her journal to look once more at that morning’s poem, and then vividly replayed in her mind the dream that had prompted her to accept the other woman’s invitation to go out. She was at the illegal but sprawling farmer’s market that operated around the corner from her parents’ flat in El Monte. Chela followed the figure of a child as it scampered about the stalls, reaching surreptitiously into bins and boxes and filling its pockets with candies, small fruits and sticks of sugar cane. After passing by a corner stall the child turned, and Chela beheld a girl of about four or five years, dressed in the white clothes of an iyawo, with sparkling blue eyes and a long mane of black hair. "Barbara…Changó…," Chela whispered, but the child did not seem to see or hear her. The urchin began drawing handfuls of stolen treats from her pockets, and soon her mouth was so filled that the cheeks puffed out. And still she did not stop pulling out food from her garment. Chela watched in horror as the little girl inserted shoots of cane up each nostril until the blood ran, packed chiclets and gumdrops into each ear, and finally smeared the flesh of ripe bananas over each eye, the cakes of fruit leaving her essentially sightless as the eyelashes batted helplessly trying to remove the offensive substance.

Despairing, Chela cried out to one of the market women. "Can’t you stop her? She is a thief!" She could not understand why these were the words that came from her mouth: she had intended to say, "She needs help! She cannot see!" The market woman turned — it was her own mother, Maritza, but much larger at the waist and with an incongruent smile on her face as she began to scold Chela. "Of course, she is a thief. Where is the mother? Of course, she is a thief. Where is the father?"

The father! Chela could see the familiar blonde man squatted behind the market woman. Chela’s heart jumped as she ran to him, but Martin Stevens paid her no heed. Instead, he stared with affection at the senseless, blinded girl child, as he shook in his hands the divinatory cowrie shells. But he never believed in this, Chela complained to herself in the dream. Then she watched as the shells went flying to the ground like hard bread crumbs, with some of them landing such that the cut opening was visible. Martin Steven’s lips moved silently as he counted out the ratio of shells lying with the opening exposed to those displaying a smooth surface. He lifted his face in triumph and finally looked up at Chela, his green eyes shooting sparks. "The reading is Obara!" "But you never spoke the lucumí tongue, Papá!" protested Chela to her father. The man disregarded her and continued identifying the reading. "Chango and Elegba speak to say: From legends, the truth is born! The king does not lie! Do you hear me? The king does not lie!"

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Chela turned around to face Tomás, who winked at her, then said "The king will not lie, but that doesn’t mean he knows the truth!"

She had woken in a sweat and had feverishly reached for her pen, the words spilling out in a chain of images:

I wash the scratch on your knee and bandage it with a butterfly kiss.

I can see the cracked tree limb outside my window where you once reigned

as the queen of the jungle,

your sword a dried flamboyán leaf that bested the attacking fireflies

and sent them circling in search of stiller air.

You say the leopard gave you this wound

before you wrestled him to the ground.

You ask if I would like his golden skin

so I can make us both capes that we can wear when we go flying.

Today the leopard drew your blood.

I let the truth of the tree limb pass,

your defeat by gravity a minor footnote in our family history.

I know what every mother knows:

That Rachel crying for her children,

That Yemayá searching for her son,

That every Cuban Madonna frozen in a corpseless Pietá -

her children taken by the sharks -

would safe keep these little lies and find them sweet,

would forgive with gladness youthful boasts and tricks,

to have one more day to tend to the fragile flesh

of those beloved.

Yes, thought Chela, as — closing her door - she made the decision to set aside the safety of her autonomy and act on the intense affection she felt for her American Changó. I know that there will be pain, but I also know that she needs my ocean as badly as I need her fire.

Napping proved difficult for Barbara, given the storm of thoughts raging in her mind following the "lesson" provided her by René and Jorge. She assaulted the punching bag for an hour with such fervor that the screws attaching it to the ceiling finally pulled loose, bringing with them a shower of plaster fragments, and still she found no relief. So, after showering and dressing, she turned to the rum she had purchased as a souvenir, and sucked steadily at the bottle until it was time to go down to the lobby. A half bottle of the strong drink barely nicked the layer of glumness that weighed down on her usually cheerful disposition, although it made her feel warm enough to forget the light jacket she had brought to protect her sleeveless shoulders from the night chill in the taxi.

An hour after the quartet arrived at the Comodoro’s Havana Club Disco, Chela observed with dismay that her woman companion’s mood still had not improved, and that she had in that brief time downed two shots of liquor on top of the obvious inebriation she had arrived with. The Havana Club was packed, and Chela and René had had to struggle for a space in which to dance to a few salsa numbers. Several male patrons had already complimented René and Jorge on their extraordinary escorts, although one of them suggested to Jorge that he invest in platform shoes in order to approximate Barbara’s height. The two women managed to stand out in a venue crowded with attractive dancers, many of them jineteras looking for business: Chela wore a simple iridescent blue dress that left her back bare to the waist, and Barbara displayed a complementary amount of skin at the front, wearing a black vest that opened down to her belt, with jewel-inlaid buttons held loosely together with leather thongs keeping the garment from falling off altogether. It was a bittersweet display of beauty, however, as each woman sat unhappily engrossed in deciphering the other’s thoughts, unable to fully take in how provocatively they had dressed for each other.

After all that crap, thought Barbara irritably, it was Chela who had the decency to offer to pay her own way. Fuck, have I ever gone anywhere with René and Jorge that I haven’t picked up the tab? But that’s ok, because we are just "friends" and neither of them has ever offered to fuck me in return. So just who is a mosquito and who is not one here? And that old fat dude sitting next to us has what looks to be a twelve year old on his lap. I am supposed to believe that she is taking advantage of him because she needs money? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of two women dancing to an American disco/funk song together at the edge of the dance floor near their table. Well I see that anti-imperialist solidarity doesn’t extend to boycotting Stevie Wonder tunes. Good! Now, let me think. How can I ask this without pissing Chela off?

"Chela," she whispered to the younger woman, managing to force a smile onto her face. "Those two women…would they be involved in a vestigial form of gender discordant behavior that used to be justified under the implicit inequality produced within a heartless market-oriented system but is no longer acceptable given the ideological and super-structural adjustments enacted by the Revolution?"

Chela spewed Tropi-Cola out the sides of her mouth as she exploded in laughter. Oh, she has been listening all those times when I thought she was just spacing out looking at my breasts! And thank god, it seems as if she is back after this long evening of frowns.

"No, compañera," replied Chela, between hiccups, as she dabbed at Barbara’s newly moist top with a napkin. "Remember that in Cuba often women friends and women relatives will hold hands when walking around, or will dance if no men are available to them, and it doesn’t mean anything."

Oh good, thought Barbara hazily. And it probably doesn’t mean anything that my nipples just decided to stand up and wave hello. Good thing this vest is thick. A merry cry went up from the room as the rhythm of the music changed, signaling the beginning of a Dominican merengue, with its rolling backbeat. Hey, I think I can do this, mused Barbara as she quickly reviewed her dance lesson in her mind. This one doesn’t have a lot of turns, and the pattern of the beat is straightforward. How badly can I fuck it up?

She listened for the lyrics, quickly translating them for herself, and found that the opening verse captured perfectly how she felt about Chela’s appearance that evening. "["your male friends tell me of your brown skin / that when you walk it shoots off sparks/ that you bought yourself a new dress/ when you put it on, even the heavens shake"]"

"Ok, Chela," she cooed mischievously at the young Cuban woman. "I’m tired of sitting down! Dance with me." Then she leaned over to René and muttered in his ear. "Wish me luck, compañero. Showtime!"

"Wait, Barbara," said René, reaching for her arm. "This song…."

But Barbara was already approaching the dance floor, pulling an astonished if willing Chela by the hand. They paused at the edge and faced each other, briefly assessing where to place their hands.

"Do you know how to dance to this?" asked an amused Chela, tilting her head questioningly.

"Oh yeah," replied a confident but fairly drunk Barbara as she curled a hand around Chela’s lower back. "In fact, I am leading…so don’t get any funny ideas, you very smart bunny. Tigers are not all stupid — some of us know what we are doing," she concluded as she stepped off.

"["your female friends tell me that you have changed/ that there is sadness in your gaze/ that you go quiet when I am mentioned/ that you are a but a shadow and I tell you that"]"

Well! thought Chela as she allowed Barbara to guide them onto the floor. Was that what was bothering her? That little story I told back when we fought in Maisí? I don’t think so. Oh, and she does feel so good tight against me and her hips are right on time! Now if she were only not going backwards, but I think I can adjust, because as she has just pointed out, I am a very smart bunny and sometimes you just have to give your idiot tiger a break.

"["I’m not going to lift a finger…"]," Barbara sang along softly into Chela’s ear, before daring to nuzzle the lobe for a second. Ay, mami, I thought I would never get here. I want to die right now. Well, no. I want to solve this epidemic and bed this woman — not necessarily in that order - and then figure out how to keep her living happily with me and Hercules for another sixty years, or longer if human life spans have improved by the time we get there, which they very well may thanks to advances in molecular genetics, although iguanas really don’t last that long …and then I want to die.

I wonder if she realizes that this is the bitter break up song of the season? Chela asked herself as she felt Barbara move in more tightly and run her fingers down her bare back. When the older woman used the momentum of a soft turn to hide a stolen nip to the sensitive skin of her neck, Chela could not hold back her response, and a moan escaped her lips as she pressed into her partner and laid her head against Barbara’s shoulder.

"["you asked for it/ and you made a mistake/ and I tell you that/ I’m not going to lift a finger…"]"

My god, I would dance backwards to the Star Spangled Banner with her. I don’t remember the last time I was wrapped so tightly around someone and it wasn’t business or trouble. She feels solid against me, like the young pines on the Island of Youth, thought Chela, as she let a thumb knead at Barbara’s shoulder. Then she felt Barbara inexplicably stiffen slightly and pull away.

What is wrong with me? a torn Barbara asked herself, as she recognized Tito and an older Asian man among the dancing couples. I can’t get that crap out of my head. And she as much as said that she’s been on this dance floor before, probably vertically fucking johns to the music. I can’t get it out of my head, and Jesus help me I don’t want to be an asshole…

"Chela, I am worried about something," she said, slowing down a little so that the younger woman would look up into her eyes.

What happened? What in the heavens happened? thought a disappointed Chela. "My compañera, Barbara," she said quietly with a shy smile. "You don’t have to worry…I thought it was rather obvious, but I want this too… this closeness with you."

Perhaps it was the rum finally taking its toll, or panic at her imminent surrender to the younger woman at a time when doubts still buzzed like angry wasps in her head, but Barbara felt herself recede into the role of passive spectator as her voice and will were hijacked by the insecure adolescent who had survived the Southie streets by means of intrigue, deceit, and manipulation. To her horror, it was the captain of the Crying Shamrocks — the champion player of head games — who bubbled to the surface in an act of unwelcome possession, directing the course of the conversation away from the perils of intimacy, and towards the more familiar — if isolated — land of mistrust.

"I’m not sure my bank can do the transfer you asked for…," began Barbara awkwardly. Thanks a fucking lot, Jesus! I am being an asshole.

"["because of your damned pride/ I don’t want anything of yours/nor your love…I’m not going to lift a finger"]"

"Let’s worry about it later," whispered Chela, reaching up to smooth her partner’s eyebrow where it was ruffled.

"I don’t think you understand. I might not be able to get you that money you asked for."

"Barbara," replied Chela gently, "all the more reason to let me enjoy tonight. I’ll have to worry about it later." She tried coaxing the distraught American back into an embrace, but Barbara continued to stay off the pace of the music and firmly maintained a space between her body and that of her dance partner.

"It’s just my bank is giving me problems…."

"Your bank is giving me a terrible problem right now," cut in a flustered Chela. "And it’s not about money. Barbara if you need some money to get by for a few days, I have a few dollars stashed away that will keep you in ice cream until things get ironed out. I can help you…but please snap out of this."

I am worse than an asshole. I am worse than an expelled segment of tapeworm. I am worse than a pellet of pig shit being rolled downhill by a dung beetle.

The two women managed to finish their dance, although they could not recreate the intense closeness that they had felt towards each other at the beginning of the song. They stood awkwardly facing each other, unwilling to drop the hands that bound them together, even as the next song — a slow number — started up.

"Barbara, no," cautioned Chela, trying to shrug off the other woman’s hands as the American attempted to resume dancing. "This isn’t safe."

"But I thought you said two women could do this," said Barbara with a frown.

"Not to slow songs…and there are always secret police at places like this who are looking for unusual things to hold against people." Indeed, the presence of the two women on the dance floor did not go unnoticed. As they approached their table, they were intercepted by the foreign man who had been seated next to them, and was now pulling his pre-pubescent escort along by one arm. He looked at Barbara and smiled, the noxious odor of cigars and stale rum wafting from his open mouth towards the surprised physician.

"So you have one too," crowed the drunken man good-naturedly. "Aren’t they incredible? Cuban pussy is the sweetest in the world — must be all that sugar they eat. Don’t you wish you could just pack them in your carry on when you leave? Damn, then I could just fuck her in half on the plane instead of watching a stupid movie."

The right cross caught him right under the chin, whipping his head back as his knees crumpled. Cries of alarm went up directly behind the women, as people saw the unconscious man lying on the floor, and soon a circle of onlookers gathered about them.

"My god, Barbara," gasped Chela as she restrained her from striking a second blow. "We have to run…now. Before security gets here."

"No," answered Barbara quietly. "We need to stay. Don’t worry — I know enough about the global brotherhood of pricks to make this turn out all right." Two large men in mirrored sunglasses pushed their way through the crowd, looking first at the fallen man and then at the formidable American woman who appeared responsible for his condition.

"And what happened here?" asked one of the guards neutrally while the second one knelt to check the foreigner’s breathing.

"This man is not Cuban," began Barbara carefully. "He is not a gentleman. I was trying to get back to my table, where our boyfriends are resting their sore feet, and he failed to respect me as I passed. He tried to touch me without my permission."

The guard shook his head. "That is terrible, Miss. I always tell my Cuban brothers, you can say whatever you want to a fine woman in the street or in a club, but you just cannot cross that line and touch them. Our women may receive rather strong compliments at times, but no one would rape them. And then there is the severe matter of his having disrespected your boyfriends’ honor. Well, we will take care of this — he will not be welcome here again."

Chela’s eyes were wide as she observed Barbara’s performance and its aftermath.

"How could you say those things?" she hissed to her in English after they returned to their table. "You are one of the strongest women I have ever seen and you spin this story about how he "failed to respect you when you were passing"!"

"Chela," countered Barbara. "Let’s be frank here. Don’t tell me you never faked it to get out of a bad situation without getting hurt…I have no interest in bringing us to the notice of the authorities. Mister "Fuck her in half" though, he’s paid and will pay for messing with me, messing with you, and messing with that child. And it still seems too small a price to extract."

Several minutes later, Barbara and her three companions left the Disco. As they stepped into the street a small figure approached them out of the shadows.

"You! American bitch!" called out the child jinetera. "You really fucked it up for me. He hadn’t paid me yet."

"You’re right," answered Barbara coolly. "I owe you." She reached in her wallet and peeled out five one-hundred dollar bills, then stretched out her hand to the girl, who snatched the money away. "Next time try to find a nicer one, so that I don’t have to do this again. It’s a bit expensive." Then she turned to the stunned Chela, and handed her an equal amount of cash.

Tell her you remembered your pin number for the bank. Tell her you thought you’d lost this thousand dollars in a casino en route to Cuba in the Dominican Republic and you just found it. Tell her the project just voted you a bonus and gave it to you in cash... Or cowboy up. Or get back in the saddle here, away from this backstabbing whispering bullshit, away from this grade school note passing way of playing a relationship, and take the licks that are coming to you. And hope to hell that she can look at you without throwing up after you tell her the truth. She took a deep breath and held up her chin so her words would carry to the two men as well.

"And you. I need you to forgive me if you can, compañera. I didn’t trust you completely when you told me that I was not business to you, and a doubt came into my mind while I was holding you as we danced. I feared that what I was feeling for you made me weak — so I lied. I was confused, and I cheapened what should have been a wonderful night out with you. I wouldn’t blame you if you refuse to see me outside of our work."

Chela started to cry, her lips trembling as the tears coursed down her face. René and Jorge quietly departed, thinking it best not to interrupt the difficult moment between the two women. Barbara waited, unable to move towards Chela, while sobs wracked the younger woman.

"I’ll get you a taxi, Chela," said a defeated Barbara finally. "I’m sorry. I understand that you don’t want me after this."

"You are such an idiot! Such an idiot!" squeezed out Chela between tears and sniffles. She crossed the distance between them, grabbing Barbara by her arms and shaking her. "You’re right — I don’t want this drunken paranoid American who will see a parade of faceless customers over my shoulder every time I take her in my arms."

"But," she whispered hoarsely looking up into Barbara’s pained face. "I am pretty sure I still want the woman who asked me out this afternoon, the woman who makes me laugh, the woman who can’t turn her back on a bleeding stranger or on a child who is yoked to a monster because of hunger." She paused and let go of Barbara, then rubbed her face dry with the back of her hand. "Don’t call me a cab. I’m going to take the bus. And tomorrow…tomorrow I am taking you out. I’ll meet you in the Café Rimbaud on Calle Salud at six o’clock. Wear comfortable shoes — we are doing this the Cuban way tomorrow — on the pedestrian express and the slow-trolley-to-Santiago local." Then she reached up to caress the face of the still immobile Barbara before turning and walking away.

Better than any absolution I ever got in a fucking confessional, thought Barbara as she watched the blue sparkles of Chela’s dress fading into the night. How many times is this going to happen for me? First Irene. Now you. Taking my betrayal and turning it into a moment of grace.

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=421 ... name1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
Postovi: 4523
Pridružen/a: 23 srp 2011 11:44
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 29 kol 2012 22:05

Priča o Jenni i Elli koju svaka priča iz svoje perspektive..neuzvraćena ljubav...strah...bol...

Something so close to love
by Artemis Callaghan

Jenna

I met her at a wedding. I hate weddings, all that pressure to have a good time, to wish the happy couple well when you know that the chances are this whole relationship won’t make it beyond five years. One in three marriages end up in divorce, so why do they insist on spending thousands of pounds, tens of thousands of pounds, going through this? Most of them will still be paying off the debts after the divorce has been decreed. But I had to go. A different sort of pressure was being applied, that of the workplace and this was a workplace wedding. Katrina at least had the sense to invite me to just the reception. I was spared sitting through the service, so that was something. Even so, there I was, stuck in a marquee in a field with lots of people I didn’t know, nor did I care to ever know them. I was stuck at a table with people from work everyone intent on having a good time but me. I poured myself a glass of so-so champagne and raised it to Katrina sitting up at the top table. It would take someone even more mean spirited than me to deny that she looked beautiful. This was the day she’d dreamt and planned since she first knew there was such a thing as a wedding. And she was making the most of it in her little girl dream ivory silk beaded dress, tiny white rosebuds garlanded in hair that fell softly in strands and curls around her face. Artfully, I should say. Katrina’s hair is naturally dead straight. For nine months she’d been growing it from the perfect bob I envied, growing it so the hairdresser could tease and over heat it. Next to her sat the unremarkable Stephan, the groom, a nice enough bloke and good looking in a non-threatening way. I’d met him at works dos, Christmas parties and barbeques at other people’s houses, and I think I’d exchanged three sentences, mostly about the weather being too hot, too cold or too wet. Having not been at the wedding, it wasn’t until we sat down to eat that I noticed Stephan’s party, groom, father, ushers and whoever was the best man, were all dressed in the same dark suits and white shirts; the only thing that marked them out as individual were their waistcoats. Stephan’s was a sky blue brocade, the man I took to be his father wore one of traditional Paisley silk. Another young man had one that was black and white stripes. He had the look of a very handsome magpie, and judging by his grin, he knew it. I looked over to see what he was grinning at and started when I saw, at the other end of the table from the magpie boy, a girl. A girl in the same dark suit as the men, and never has a piece of clothing been so well named. She wore it like a second skin. Her waistcoat was the best of all: scarlet and gold diamonds. A harlequin’s waistcoat. Stephan brought the tent to order by tapping his coffee spoon against his glass. I wasn’t really listening; one groom’s speech is pretty much like any other: blah blah thank you Katrina for having me, blah blah thank you Katrina’s parents for having her. Laughter from the collective families. I yawned and emptied my glass even before he asked us to raise them. But was soon as he sat down to generous applause, the harlequin girl got to her feet and I felt an unexpected surge of respect for Stephan. His best man was a woman. The girl stood with her hands in her pockets, so casual, so at home in her surroundings, in her suit, in her skin. She ran a hand through dark, slightly curly, unruly hair and treated the whole tent to a smile that was electric. When she spoke, her voice was a little husky. She started with the traditional best man bit: thanking the bridesmaids, complimenting them, telling them how lovely they looked. Two of them, Katrina’s 17 year old sister and her 18 year old cousin, giggled and blushed. Not bad going in a tent full of reasonably handsome men. But then the harlequin girl’s face became quite serious and when she spoke, her voice was even huskier and her tone sincere:

“I had a speech prepared, full of stories to embarrass Steph –”

“Tell ‘em anyway, especially that one about Amsterdam”

The magpie boy shouted from the end of the table. Indulgent laughter from the tent. Sheepish smile from the groom. The girl put her hand up and the crowd quietened. The performance was spellbinding. She continued.

“Thing is, Stephan is more than just my cousin. He’s more like the brother I never had. And since Mum and Dad died, I’ve come to realise the importance of family”

That elicited a collective sigh from the tent. The electrifying smile was back.

“So, although I know it’s your job to do it, Uncle Ivan, I hope you don’t mind if I say that it gives me genuine pleasure to welcome Katrina to the family. No offence to your own, but this is the best family in the world”

The tent erupted. The groom’s father jumped to his feet and enveloped the harlequin girl with bear like arms and kissed her face. I sat back in my chair and raised my glass to her even though she couldn’t see me through the huddle of Katrina’s new family. Well done girl, I said under my breath, that’s the way to work a crowd. There they were again, the suits. They were standing outside a toilet tent looking for all the world like furtive teenagers, huddled together. On closer inspection, a thin skein of smoke was rising from the huddle, on even closer inspection, the rich, earthy smell of hash hung over them in an accusatory cloud. The group broke up when they noticed me and the girl quickly passed the joint to the boy with the magpie waistcoat. This close, they could pass for brother and sister so I guessed he was another cousin, their resemblance giving away some closeness of blood. On a different day, in a different place, I might’ve gone for him but today there was no contest. He was simply a watered down version of her. Both of them smiled at me but I walked straight up to her. Have you got a light? I asked her, cigarette hanging from my fingers. Sure, she said, and fumbled a blue disposable lighter from the pocket of her suit trousers. The four boys sniggered but I ignored them and so did she. I put the cigarette between my lips, she flicked the lighter alive and I bent my head down to spark the fag. I straightened up, took a drag, exhaled and looked directly at her. Thanks. That smile again. Think nothing of it. I turned and walked back into the marquee without a backward glance. It was just a question of biding my time. I returned to the table and sat watching intergenerational dancing. The DJ was the usual competent but unremarkable mobile wedding DJ, the sort who played crowd pleasing floor fillers. Hits of the 60s, 70s and 80s, a little bit of current pop stuff to keep the little kids happy. I had the table to myself as everyone from work was up dancing to Hi ho silver lining like they did at every single Christmas party. I could see their mouths moving so knew they were singing along. I crushed the cigarette out with more vigour than was particularly necessary, and felt the grass squash under my shoe. Then I noticed the girl in the harlequin waistcoat slipping her way between people crowding round the bar, coming towards me with a bottle of champagne and two glasses in her hands, and an expression that appeared to be bordering on self confidence and expectation. Hm, we’d see. She sat down next to me and gave me that smile. I almost forgave her. Almost. Are you here with anyone? She asked. I pointed with my head over to where Paul was dancing with Tony from work. The expression evaporated instantly from her face, replaced by a frown and a quick flash of anger that made me like her again straight away. She shook her head and got up to leave, but I caught her arm and pulled her back into the seat. Fishing in my handbag, I found a pen, a black indelible marker; I pushed up the sleeve of her jacket and unbuttoned the sleeve of her white shirt, flipped her forearm over and on the soft inside of it wrote my mobile number. Stop sulking, I whispered in her ear, and then sat back in my chair to watch the dancing. Paul was watching me. He was trying not to be obvious, but he was so predictable, I’d know he was doing it even if I couldn’t see him. I caught his eye and he glanced away only for his eyes to sneak back my way. I sat back and ignored him. As soon as the girl got up and walked away, he left the dance floor and squatted down next to me. Why don’t you come and dance? I shook my head and shrugged. Don’t mind me, you go on ahead. He wasn’t happy, it was written all over his face but I couldn’t find it in me to care. After a couple of seconds, he got back up and went back to join the others who greeted him with whoops and cheers. I got out my gold lighter and lit another cigarette.

You have one new message:Hello? Erm, hi. This is – my name’s Ella. We met at Stephan’s wedding. I was wondering – I was wondering if you’d like to come out for a drink with me, maybe. Look, if you fancy it, my number will be on your missed call log. So, er, give me a ring. End of message.

“Look at me, Ella. Open your eyes”

I could’ve fallen in love with her then. Her eyes were bottomless, hot and wet. I pushed my thigh up into her and her eyes changed colour. I put my hand to the back of her head and pulled it down so that I could kiss her hard, still pushing my thigh up again and again.

“Christ, Ella, how did you get to be so fucking beautiful?”

“I don’t know” her voice husky against my mouth.

Afterwards she stood by the window, smoking a cigarette, staring out into the dark of her back garden. I put my arms around her from behind, resting my forehead on her shoulder.

“Are you always sad?”

“Hmm?”

“Afterwards, are you always sad”

“No, sometimes I laugh hysterically”

“I think I’d like to see that”

“And sometimes I laugh hysterically and then I cry”

“What are you looking at out there?”

“Next door’s cat, can you see it?”

“Where?”

“Down at the bottom, under the bush. Can you see now?”

Down at the bottom of the short garden there was a prickly shrub of some description, planted to disguise the ugly concrete wall that divided this garden from its neighbour. If I squinted, I could just make out the white, black and tan splodges of a tortoise-shell cat hunkering down in a pool of shadow. Ella leant out of the window and made a noise that was half way between a kiss and a sucking in of breath. Startled, the cat stared blank eyed at her before scuttling away. I took the cigarette from Ella and took a deep draw on it until I felt my head spin.

“And you think Paul knows nothing?”

Cass placed our two drinks down on the table before sitting on the stool opposite me and leaning over to look at me directly. I deflected her gaze by taking a sip of my G & T, wincing at the quinine tang of the tonic. No matter how hard I tried, I could never like gin and tonic but kept on drinking it because I felt I should. I couldn’t bring myself to drink white wine spritzers and a secret passion for Barcadi Breezers should stay just that: a secret. But Cass knew me better and wasn’t easily put off. She wanted an answer.

“To be honest, I haven’t a clue what Paul knows anymore”

Cass sat back, still searching my face.

“Darling, you should put the poor bloke out of his misery and dump him”

“It’s not as easy as that”

“Yes it is, you know it is, you’re just too chicken-shit to grasp the nettle”

Across the bar near the door, two young men were playing a very loud, very bright fruit machine. Both had their backs to us but one of them suddenly turned, laughing, towards us and he looked like Ella’s cousin, the boy with the magpie waistcoat. The resemblance was enough to make my heart jerk and I thought I was going to throw up. Instead, I turned my attention to the bottom half of the cellophane wrapper that was still on my packet of Marlboro Lights. When I glanced up at last, the boy’s back was to me again, and the wave of nausea had passed. That first night I’d arranged to meet Ella in a bar not far from this pub. It was one of those places that is all stripped wood and zinc, alternately shiny and matt. Leather sofas and frosted glass. Imported lagers and obscure spirits. Pushing the door open, the first thing I saw was Ella sitting at the bar and I felt a tug of desire before I’d even set foot over the threshold. Ella could wear anything and wear it well, even a pair of faded black jeans and a shirt worn soft and under a leather jacket. She caught sight of me and treated me to that smile. I was surprised to see a cocktail glass next to her on the counter. A cosmopolitan. She shrugged. I’m being indulgent. Why not? I replied, indicating to the barman that we should have another two here, thank you. The bar was popular enough to have filled very quickly, Ella and I an island at a crowded counter. The crush of people forced us to pull our stools close to each other, close enough for my knee to ride along the inside of hers; forced us to lean in close to speak to each other, Ella’s voice crackling the connections between ear, brain and between my legs, her breath warm, hot, against the sensitised skin of my neck. My breath, my lips, ruffling the hair around her ear, the tip of which had started to redden. As had her cheeks, I noticed, and her eyes to darken. This was more than three cosmopolitans, I knew. I offered her a cigarette, taking one myself, and when she leant in to light it for me, I cupped my hands around hers even though there wasn’t the slightest hint of a draught in the whole place. I let my finger tips drift across the back of her hand before drawing back to smoke the cigarette, looking her directly in the face. The flush had deepened.

“Jenna?”

Cass’s voice pulled me back to the pub. The fruit machine boys had hit the jackpot, lights flashing red and yellow, the machine yelping even more than the boys were. The one who looked like Ella’s cousin but didn’t really was doing a little dance. Cass turned to look at where I was staring.

“Lucky sods, I wonder how much they’ve won?”

I shrugged.

“Who knows? Enough to make them happy it would seem”

“Ah the fleeting happiness of youth. But really, Jenna, you are evading the issue here”

“What issue would that be?”

“The same one you’ve had ever since I’ve known you, and as we both know, darling, that’s a long time”

It certainly was. I’d known Cass since I was at university, if anyone knew me, it was her. If anyone stood for a little constant stability in my life, it was her. Usually, I was comfortable and happy in her company; a night in the pub setting the world to rights with Cass was pretty close to perfect. But not that night. I was scratchy and itchy, unsettled in myself, and Cass, dear old Cass, was ever so slightly doing my head in. I sighed and poked at the cellophane before taking another drink. Gin and tonic: I really did hate it.

“I’ll get us some more drinks”

“Do all cocktails make you flush like that, or is it just cosmos?”

Ella laughed.

“Yes, it’s that combination of lime juice and vodka, it always makes me hot. I had a very uncomfortable teenage”

“Tell me, what else makes you hot?”

“Sitting in a crowded bar with my jacket on”

“Take it off then”

Without her jacket on, her forearms were bare and as she twisted her arm to pick up her drink, I saw my pen-marked telephone number, bold as when I wrote it. I put my fingers to it.

“It won’t come off, no matter how hard I try”

The tug towards her and sex intensified, singing through my head.

“Don’t try too hard” My voice hardly louder than a whisper that only she could hear.

“What’s that?”

“Vodka and lime”

“Vodka and lime? Since when do you drink vodka and lime?”

“I felt like a change”

Sweet. Sweet with a kick, the ice clicking against the glass, it slid down my throat sweet and easy, sweeter than the drink I remembered but that was okay, I grinned down into it. Even if it wasn’t quite right, it sure as hell beat gin and tonic.

“Sometimes you make it hard to love you. I should know”

“Cass – ”

“O don’t worry, darling. Been there. Done that. I’m just saying, it must be hard for Paul”

I sighed.

“I’ve not heard him complaining”

“Possibly because he’s got more sense than complain to you. Nothing makes you shut down quicker than the whiff of emotional dependency”

“Thanks”

“Come on, you can’t deny that if anyone gets close to you, you are off like a shot. Darling, I probably love you more than I do anyone else in the world, certainly more than my own mother and, much to their disgust, most of the girlfriends I’ve ever had, but I do know what you’re like. First as well as second hand”

That was true. Second hand, she’d picked through the fall out of my relationships for all the time I’d known her, smoothing over the chasm like cracks, she’d had both boys and girls sobbing on her shoulder. There, there, she’d say, I know. First hand, Cass was the first woman I ever had sex with, foolishly, one night when I was very drunk in our second year at university. I woke up with a dry mouth and a headache that made my eyes pound in their sockets; Cass woke up in love. When I think about it, I’m impressed that she’s stayed friends with me all this time as I acted with a not uncommon lack of sensitivity to any feelings she had. Frankly, I was a bitch who thought nothing of copping off with other people in front of her, bored by the stoicism of her silence, irritated at her occasional tearfulness. To her eternal credit, she stuck by me, even if sometimes I wished she wouldn’t.

“All I’m saying is let him in or let him go”

Let him in or let him go. Cass made it sound so easy.

You have one new message:Babe, it’s me. I guess you’re out with Cass. Give me a ring when you get in, I don’t mind what time it is. Love you. End of message.

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=648 ... love1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 31 kol 2012 01:29

Kit mora izabrati između dvije sestre ...obje su njezine dugogodišnje prijateljice još iz škole...priča u 4 kratka nastavka

Hen night
by Artemis Callaghan

Hen night

Hen night. Nothing says female heterosexuality more than those two words. Nothing conjures up the image of marauding, scantily clad young woman out terrorising unsuspecting straight men quite like it. Saturday night city centres, stretch limos, bars and nightclubs. So what the hell was a lesbian doing on a hen night? Believe me, it’s not as if I hadn’t asked myself that question, wasn’t asking it as I sat at the counter of a ridiculously overpriced and pleased with itself bar, all zinc and blonde wood in what was a converted church. Zinc, blonde wood and men smelling of CKone who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ordinarily, I love the scent of CKone, especially when it’s blended with warm skin. Nothing speaks good times and certain sex than that smell, but only on a woman. On a man it’s like I’ve been duped. So I sat at the bar of this converted church sipping over priced vodka that tasted of Parma violets, resenting every man within a 10 foot radius of me just for being a man and smelling of CKone. Even the very cool female DJ, working the cross fader of her mixer, turning the records back to find the click of the first beat over the music and chatter, failed to improve my increasingly bad mood. Why the hell was I here?

“Kit-e-kat!” Loud enough for the entire bar to hear. Isabel flounced straight up to me, flinging her arms around my neck before kissing me very firmly on the mouth.

“Jesus, Wiz, how much have you had already?”

“Nowhere near enough”

She kissed me again, this time slipping her tongue between my lips.

“Easy tiger”

Izzie pouted at me.

“I don’t want to be easy”

“Bit late for that, sweetheart”

Over Izzie’s shoulder, I could see her sister Rachel giving me the look she always does. It’s a hard look to describe, even harder to interpret. I put it down to her disapproval of me.

“Hello Rach”

“Kit”

And this was why I was on a hen night. Izzie’s hen night. I’ve known Isabel and Rachel McFarland since Iz and I were 13 and Rachel 15. I have never known Rachel be anything other than monosyllabic. I’ve wondered if it’s because she disapproves of me fancying girls, but she was like it before I ever came out. Maybe Rachel knew something about me that I hadn’t know about myself, even at that age. Maybe she just didn’t like me. The feeling was mostly mutual. Izzie, on the other hand, I had the softest spot for. Even when she was snogging me in a straight bar in a converted church where the CKone boys were now staring open mouthed, I couldn’t stay cross with her for long. And that night she looked gorgeous: her blonde hair swept up to show a long smooth neck, she was wearing a classic little black dress that clung to her in all the right places. She was also drunk, staggeringly drunk. But if she’s anything, Isabel McFarland is a cute drunk. Her arms still draped around my neck, I found I was holding onto her hips, she was leaning her forehead on mine and kept dipping her mouth to kiss me. I would never admit it to her, but the press of her lips on mine wasn’t exactly leaving me cold, and that wasn’t right. Not on her hen night. I dropped my hands and tried to step a little way off. I caught sight of Rachel and tried to step even further but Iz simply pulled me back to her. With something that was a hybrid of a snort and snarl, Rachel turned her back on us and tried to catch the bar man’s attention.

“Your sister hates me”

“Rachie? Don’t be daft, Kitty. She likes you, honest, she made sure to ask if you were going to be here”

“Probably so she can be sure to kick my head in later”

“No, silly”

“Iz –”

I was cut off mid sentence by Isabel’s tongue as it once again found the inside of my mouth and met with hardly any resistance. Something cold and hard brought me to my senses. A freezing cold glass had been pressed into my hand. Rachel was staring at me. I’d never noticed before, but her eyes were exactly like Izzie’s: a very clear emerald green. Izzie had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever known; now it seemed she wasn’t the only one. Izzie also had a glass, and dropped one of her arms so that she could concentrate on the drink in front of her. She downed it in one, grinned at Rachel and then at me. Arms back round my neck, her kiss was fiery.

“Izzie, I think that’s probably enough now, eh?”

“Don’t you like me?”

“Wiz, you’re my best friend and I love you to bits. But this is your hen night, remember?”

“Do I really want to get married, Kit?”

She dropped her head until it rested on my shoulder, her breath hot against my neck. Really, I was starting to need all my strength to resist the overwhelming urge to run a hand up her back. This is my best friend, I kept telling myself, my heterosexual best friend who at the end of the month is marrying the nicest man in the world.

“Mark is the nicest man in the world, Wiz”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Yes he is, and he’s crazy about you”

She looked up at me, the emerald of her eyes bright and shiny.

“Is he?”

“Of course he is, any moron can see that, even me”

Izzie sighed and let her head drop to my shoulder. Christ alive, I should get a medal for the restraint I was exercising. Mark Fisher had better be bloody grateful that was for sure.

“Izzie, darling!” The rest of Iz’s hen party arrived in a flurry of handbags, lip gloss and pink plastic cowboy hats, and the bride to be leapt out of my arms to hug and kiss them all. My disappointment at being so swiftly abandoned was only slightly mollified by the fact that all the kissing was on the cheek and sometimes just the air. No one else was kissed on the mouth.

When I looked away from Izzie, I saw that Rachel was staring at me again.

“What?”

Rachel simply shook her head. I leapt to a conclusion and scowled at her.

“She started it”

She emptied her glass.

“You carried it on”

Suddenly I couldn’t help myself but burst out laughing and almost as if she couldn’t help herself, Rachel did something she’d never done in front of me before. She smiled. And suddenly I could see Izzie in her and the laughter stopped in my throat but my face was reluctant to stop smiling.

“Let me get you another drink, Rach”

“Go on then”

We stood on the balcony looking down at where Izzie and her hens were dancing, oblivious of the CKone boys who had started to circle like the pack animals they were. The place was noisy and Rachel and I had moved closer so we could hear each other speak. My shoulder brushed hers but she didn’t move away. We both watched Izzie as she shimmied up against one of her bridesmaids. A quick wave of disappointment, envy and relief washed over me.

“She’s going to hate herself in the morning”

“No doubt”

Rachel took a pull on her drink, was quiet for a moment and then turned to face me.

“You two have always been close, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I love her”

Rachel looked away again. Panic fluttered in my stomach.

“No, not like that – I mean – well, she’s my best friend, that’s all, honest – it’s just – ”

I fizzled out mid sentence. Rachel said nothing. When Rachel next spoke, it was too soft for me to hear and as I leaned in towards her to catch what she said, she turned her head and our faces were inches apart, my mouth so close to hers I could feel her breath. I expected her to move but she didn’t and neither did I. When she spoke, her voice was still quiet.

“To be honest, I’ve always been jealous”

“Jealous? There’s no need to be. You’re her sister, that’s an unshakeable bond”

“I’m not jealous of you, Kit”

Rachel moved her head and fell silent for a few moments before turning killer McFarland eyes on me.

“I’m jealous of Iz”

An involuntary gasp escaped from my mouth.

“But I – I always thought you hated my guts. You’ve always given that impression”

Rachel smiled; a small smile.

“I’ve never hated you, Kit. I didn’t think you liked me. I thought – what?”

I was laughing. I couldn’t help myself.

“It’s just funny, it’s so ridiculous. For the last 12 years I thought you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me”

When I looked at Rachel’s face, the laughter stopped as abruptly as it had when she first smiled. This close to, I could see there was something about Rachel, something quieter, more profound, that went beyond a resemblance to Isabel. I’d never realised it before but Rachel was truly beautiful. I wasn’t aware that I’d moved closer to her until I felt the brush of her lips over mine.

“Both McFarland sisters in one night?”

“I know. I’m such a tart”

Down below, Iz shaded her eyes and looked up for us, when she caught sight she gave us a mad grin and waved. We waved back.

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=648 ... night.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 31 kol 2012 21:12

Razvedena majka...susjeda studentica koja noću radi u gay clubu...

~ Love Thy Neighbor ~
by A. K. Naten

Part 6

"...Girl, I wanna take ya to a gay bar,
I wanna take ya to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar..."

Four weeks passed, and I hadn't spoken with Lucia again since the night she babysat. Well, I hadn't spoken with her at length, that is. I saw her outside, and we waved and said 'hello' and commented on the weather and boring shit like that, but nothing major. Nothing like when she pretty much told me that she not only knew I was gay, but that she was, apparently, gay as well. Well, I didn't know for *sure*, but I held out hope. It was, actually, rather bittersweet... Lucia was gorgeous and smart and kind, ...but she was young. Too young. She could very well be the girl of my dreams, but she was unattainable. Damn. Would my luck *ever* change?

Another month passed. My birthday was coming up, and Susy called me on a Monday, telling me that she and 'the gang' were going to take me out on Friday. I was totally not into it. Even though it was my own big three-oh birthday, I wanted nothing to do with it. I just wanted to hide inside my house. No presents, no cake, no parties - no fanfare. Just leave me with a pint of Starbucks coffee ice cream and a bad cable movie, and I'll be fine, thank you very much. But, as usual, I caved and agreed to go. Well I had to, really... Susy threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't, and believe me, Suz could hurt me - she's a big girl. Isabel came over to babysit, and I hopped in my car and promptly headed over to Susy's place. Someone else was going to drive, which meant that they intended to get me shit-faced to the max. Well, maybe that wouldn't be a bad idea. I kind-of welcomed the thought of drunken oblivion at this point in my life. We arrived at 'Degener8' around 9 p.m., and the place was hoppin'. Loud music blared and thumped, reverberating inside my head and chest. The sexy waitresses and waiters flitted back and forth, as usual, and everyone was dancing and sweating and laughing the night away.

The gang wasted no time in buying me drinks of all shapes and sizes. And, much to my embarrassment, they wasted no time in announcing to the whole damn place that it was my birthday, the pricks. "Happyyy Birthdayyy dearrrr Cam-eeeelllllll!" The whole place sang off-key. I cringed and closed my eyes... I hate to be called 'Camille', and I *really* hate having 'happy birthday' sung to me by a bunch of drunken strangers. I think all the restaurants where they do that should be shut down by the Board of Health for harboring infectious disease.

"And now, a special dance for the special girl!" The announcer called out amidst clapping and cheering.

Oh Jesus H. Christ... kill me now, please. The music started and the scantily-clad servers sauntered over to my table, looking like something straight out of a ZZ Top video. Susy grabbed my chair and spun it around so that I faced everyone. I could barely look at the servers as they began to prance and dance; I just wanted to curl up and die. This was supposed to be fun, but it was anything but. I was going to fucking kill Susy after this night. Suddenly someone stepped out of the dancing group and came to stand right in front of my chair. It was a cute little blonde, and she smiled saucily at me as she sat down on my lap and began to 'dance'. Ohmygod... did I not ask to be put out of my misery? What was *taking* so long!? One after another, the girls - and guys - took turns either dancing right in front of me or sitting on my lap, twisting and turning and bopping up and down enthusiastically. Even though I knew my face was turning twenty different shades of red, I went along with it, forcing my laughter and acting like I was enjoying the whole thing. I had to hand it to these kids - they were lively, and they seemed to really enjoy teasing me. I was pounding drinks by now, hoping and praying that I would pass out so that the little parade of bodies would cease. I was just turning and sitting another empty glass on the table when yet another body came to stand in front of me, silently requesting a turn on my lap. I looked up, and my heart literally stopped.

It was Lucia. ...*Holy * Fucking * Shit*.

I could only sit there in an open-mouthed stupor while a slow, sexy smirk spread across her lips. Her pale eyes glittered at me as she spread her knees apart and seated herself very carefully upon my lap. She was so much taller than I was, but oooo, did ever she feel niiiice. I could barely comprehend what was happening... all I could hear was loud, thumping music and the whooping and hollering of my friends... all I could feel was gentle pressure against my lap as Lucia's body drew closer and touched me fleetingly... all I could smell was the flowery shampoo scent that wafted from her hair, and the aroma of her perfume mixed with a faint tang of sweet-smelling sweat. It vaguely occurred to me that I was staring straight at her breasts, and as I flushed red, I forced my attention up to focus on her face. ...My god, she was gorgeous. Unlike the other dancers, she didn't merrily bop up and down to the rhythm of the music; she merely placed her hands on my shoulders and scooted her body close while staring determinedly at me. I could feel her legs flex and tighten as her thighs squeezed mine, and my stomach did a complete flip. She edged forward even more, sliding both her arms around my neck so that they encircled me completely. Her face loomed precariously close to mine, and her breasts nearly touched me as she finally began to sway and move ever so slightly in time with the music. I unconsciously brought my hands up to hold onto her waist while her body moved back and forth in a gentle rhythm and her ass ground lightly on my lap as she proceeded to 'dance'. My panties were wet, and my throat was dry, and I swallowed convulsively while drowning in the mischievous light that glittered in her exquisite, sky-blue eyes. I quickly decided that I could die right at that moment and be quite happy. I have no idea how long the 'dance' lasted. All other noises and sensations seemed to vanish as Lucia stayed there on my lap, gyrating subtly and moving herself against me so sensually. All I could feel was the warm, comfortable weight of her body... all I could hear was the soft rasp of her breathing... all I could smell was her sexy, delicate scent as it wafted past my nose. Raucous laughter and someone slapping me on the back finally roused me from my reverie, and as I came-to, I found myself captured in Lucia's darkened stare and tiny Mona Lisa smile. I opened my mouth to try to say something, but instead, a dark head leaned forward and soft, dainty lips captured my mouth in a surprisingly tender kiss.

"Happy birthday, Cammy." Lucia whispered, her breath gusting gently against my lips. Again I tried to say something, but nothing came forth. Lucia moved back slowly, fixing me with a sultry but coy smile as she finally scooted off my lap and walked away.

Susy immediately came clamoring over to me, laughing and smacking me on the arm, yelling "Oh yeah! Oh baby!" and other exclamations that I couldn't quite make out. I just sat there, for a pretty long time I think, while my befuddled brain tried to process what had just happened.

Later that night, when I finally got home and hauled my drunken carcass into bed, I wasn't too surprised to find that I was unable to sleep. All I could think about was Lucia and what had transpired at the club. Since I was so drunk, I couldn't reconstruct everything; one thing was for certain though... *something* incredible had happened, and everyone else had apparently picked up on it as well.

Susy was overjoyed, of course, and during the entire drive home, she harped endlessly, blabbering things like, "Ohmygod, that was so *amazing* Cam!" and "You should have seen your face!" and "You have to find out who that girl is, Cam! You *have* to ask her out, man!"

God... if she only knew. I didn't say a word; I just sat motionless in the back seat, trying to stay upright and keep the contents of my stomach down where they belonged. I started to wonder if it was real. Maybe it wasn't Lucia? Maybe it was just some chick who looked like her, and my inebriated mind had conjured up Lucia's sweet face and stuck it on the unsuspecting girl's body? ...Okay, so I'm probably reaching. Still, I was having a great deal of trouble believing that all of it had actually taken place. Moreover, I knew now, more than ever, that I was incredibly attracted to Lucia Santillo. And no, it's not just because she kissed me and gave me the most erotic lap dance ever... it was more than that. I felt drawn to her... as though she and I had some kind of commonality that we were consciously unaware of, but which our souls knew and yearned for. Of course, the big problem was that she was a *kid*. I knew I had to find out how old she was; might as well get the facts before getting wound-up over nothing. I wasn't too keen on being slapped in the face with disappointment, but I had to know.

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 01 ruj 2012 20:43

Verzija Nemoralne ponude...Las Vegas..kockarnice...

~ A Million Reasons ~
by Ali Vali

"Ms. Clement, do you think in the whole of the world there is another person just like you?" Becker held her hand up to keep Jolie from answering. "Not just looks like you, but is just like you?"

"I doubt it."

"You're right, there isn't. In the whole of the world you are the only one just like you." Becker did turn away from the window and Jolie saw how blue her eyes looked in the pale light. "That makes you unique wouldn't you say?"

"I guess."

"Don't guess, be certain."

"Yes, it makes me unique." This wasn't what she expected when she requested to see Becker, but then this whole trip had been anything but expected.

"Then never question your worth. You are unique, Ms. Clement, so in my eyes, that makes you priceless." The silence between them after that was comfortable, and Becker went back to looking at the lights, feeling Jolie's eyes still on her. In her pocket, the comfort of Ruth's gift felt warm against her fingers. The coin was something she would never part with no matter how spectacular the prize.

It was getting late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. The sun would rise in about an hour and fatigue was setting in. "Could you give me thirty minutes?"

"Take your time, I'll be here."

"I just need to get my stuff then I'll be back." It was a promise, and with that, the die was cast. "Twenty-four hours from then right?"

"I don't expect anything more."

"You're going to do it?" Claire followed her into the bathroom and watched as Jolie threw her things into her cosmetics bag. "Did you get something in writing? I don't want her to renege if there's something she doesn't like."

"I'll try my best to fulfill her every whim." The comment was dripping with so much sarcasm Claire felt like wiping her face. Wisely, she refrained from any other questions along those lines.

"Are you sure about this? It isn't too late to back out."

"Tell me what you want and I'll do it." She looked up at Claire's refection in the mirror. "Only be honest so there won't be regrets later."

"I want you to do it, but only if you want to. This is our chance, baby. We get it all if it works out."

"There's our answer then." She walked to the door to answer the knock. A porter smiled and took the small bag from her. "That too I guess," Jolie pointed to the box that contained Becker's gift. As soon as he had it in hand, they left without another word.

Two hours went by and the stillness of the room was still echoing with Jolie's last words. That too I guess. She was planning to wear the dress that rich bitch had bought her, then take it off for her like the thousands of other hookers in Vegas. The thought of it was making Claire sick but she had given her consent. No matter what the money brought them, those words would forever be a taint between them. Not being able to stand it, she left and started walking. The next twenty-four hours would be an eternity.

"Ms. Clement, welcome." Oscar stood where Becker had been earlier.

For a moment, Jolie thought she was in the wrong place but the man had addressed her by name. "Did she change her mind?"

"She's taking a nap actually. We aren't really used to keeping such late hours. I'm Oscar and I work for Becker." He waved them in. "I'll show you to your room then I'll be on my way." The size of the suite was impressive and Jolie's brows hiked when she took in the bedroom Oscar escorted her into. "The maid drew you a hot bath if you'd like to relax and turned down the bed if you want to get some sleep. Beck should be up in a couple of hours."

"Thank you."

"No problem. If you need anything just pick up the phone and someone will take care of it for you."

Jolie took a moment to just stand in the middle of the room and take some deep breaths. Once she was centered, she walked into the bathroom and smiled at the large tub full of bubbles. She undressed and sank down into the bubbles, and the hot water closing her eyes. The heat helped ease the pain she felt in her heart from how she and Claire had parted. After years of living with someone, it was a surprise to find that they could so callously throw away something that should have been sacrosanct. It was the last thought she had before her head hit the pillow and sleep took away her worries of what was to come. The bath had also given her the opportunity to think about Becker and why she would waste some of their time together pampering Jolie alone. What seemed like only a few minutes later, she heard someone talking in the next room. Jolie got dressed and walked out to the main room to join Becker. The woman's voice sounded a little louder as she spoke into the phone mike clipped to her head. There was a television showing ESPN softly on one wall and someone had delivered coffee and food. Becker smiled and pointed to the coffeepot when she noticed the blonde standing at the very cusp of the room.

"Tell him one more day, Oscar, but he won't get another cent until I talk to him, and if he thinks there'll be any more money after the results I've seen, then he must think I live with my thumb up my ass." She threw the mike on the sofa and turned to Jolie. "Sorry, I usually don't sound like some uneducated ass, but some people bring out the worst in me."

"I'm not that innocent, Becker." She poured a cup of coffee and added cream and sugar. In an unconscious gesture, she combed a strand of hair behind her ear as she stirred the liquid. "I can call you Becker can't I?"

"I think I would like that." Becker bypassed the fruit and reached for a cheese Danish. "What would you like to do today?"

Jolie laughed and watched the huge bite of pastry that went into Becker's mouth. How the woman kept so trim and fit if she ate like that was a mystery. "I think that's more a question I should be asking you, don't you think?"

"Can we make another deal right now?"

"Does it involve any more money?"

It was Becker's turn to laugh. "No, no more money, and it won't cost you anything else either. Can we agree that if I ask you something it's because I'm interested in what you'd like or what you're thinking?"

"I think we can do that." Another bite of pastry disappeared and the way Becker smiled made Jolie think it was really good. "Do you usually eat like someone's about to come around and take it out of your hand?" The unexpected blush that colored Becker's cheeks made the blonde want to take the statement back. Especially when Becker put the treat down and looked a little haunted.

"I'm sorry." It sounded more like Becker was apologizing to appease than because she knew what she had done wrong.

"No I'm sorry. Sometimes my mouth overrides my brain." The apology was heartfelt but the pastry was left untouched. Jolie decided to try something Becker probably wasn't expecting, if not the day would be long and stilted. She stood up and walked around the coffee table to the sofa where Becker was sitting. "Open up," she ordered. When Becker did, the blonde shoved the rest of the Danish in her mouth. The action broke the ice between them and Becker was having a hard time chewing through her laughter. "Swallow and tell me what you want to do today?"

"Do you jitterbug?"

"As in dance?" Not being able to resist, Jolie brushed her fingertips along Becker's chin. "Crumbs," she offered in explanation. "I haven't in years, but yes I do."

"You know when I entered into this deal with you, I never realized what day it was." Pale brows scrunched together as if Jolie didn't understand what Becker had said. "I just thought I'd give you one more opportunity to back out and spend the day with Ms. Smith."

"Actually I'd rather not do that even if you want to back out, but I am curious as to why you would think I would."

"It might be Vegas and it might be Sunday, but it's Valentine's Day. I just thought you might not have realized it."

The reaction Jolie had gotten when she asked Becker about her eating habits was the same reaction the tall woman got when she mentioned the day set aside for lovers. There was no blush but the same look of sadness entered the green eyes and she was sorry she'd mentioned it.

"It's not really a special day for us no matter what we're doing. Claire and I aren't really romantic people."

"To each his own I guess, so how would you like to go to a party with me? I was going to skip it, but now that I have a date, it might be fun," teased Becker.

"Sounds like fun."

Becker reached for the phone, and when they entered the elevator, Jolie was surprised when they went up instead of down. On the roof, a helicopter was waiting for them and the pilot waved from the cockpit as one of the ground crew took care of the door. Once they were safely inside sitting in comfortable leather seats and the door slid closed, the cabin was so well insulated they could barely hear the roar of the prop.

"Are you sure jeans are fine?" Jolie asked for the fifth time.

"I'm sure jeans are fine," reassured Becker, making it sound like she would continue to do so no matter how many times the blonde asked.

"Then why aren't you wearing a pair?" It had only been two days since they'd met but Jolie had yet to see Becker in anything besides tailored slacks and equally good looking shirts. The tan pants and suede jacket was as casual as she'd seen the woman dress.

"Because I never wear jeans no matter what."

The wheels of the craft left the hotel roof and Jolie was temporarily distracted with looking out the window. In seconds, they were leaving the strip behind and flying over Lake Mead to wherever they were going.

"We're actually heading in the opposite direction but whenever I go up in this thing I love taking the long way around," explained Becker as they moved closer to one of the most inspirational spots in America, in her opinion. "Whenever I have a project going on and it seems like nothing is going right, like is happening right now, I think about this site."

Jolie looked down on an impressive view of the Hoover Dam. The pilot circled once to give them another look before heading west. "Why here?"

"In the middle of a depression President Hoover set out to build this place, and through American ingenuity and drive, they completed it in less than ten years. It makes me believe that nothing is impossible if you set your mind to it. Time and hard work can build miracles, if you apply yourself."

They could've been flying over the most beautiful sights in the world and Jolie still would've turned away from the window and looked at her hostess. Becker acted and spoke like no one she'd ever met. "You sound like a person who's done just that." She reached out and punched the tall woman lightly on the shoulder. "After all you can afford to pay a million dollars for a date, so I'm guessing time and hard work have made you very successful."

Becker laughed and tried to look humble. "Something like that. I actually have been very lucky and caught some breaks along the way. It's not all that hard to achieve success."

"Uh huh," Jolie wasn't fooled and Becker could hear it in her voice. "We'll get back to that but for now tell me why you don't wear jeans."

"Once upon a time I used to work on a rig out in the Gulf as a rough-neck. It was actually the first job I had after I finished high school, and it didn't exactly leave you spotless after a twelve-hour shift. The only thing that kept all that mud and other stuff coming out of the hole from getting on your skin was denim. After years of wearing that for some really long and dirty days, I started my own company and swore I'd never put on another pair." She picked at the crease of her pants and shrugged. The action was something she did when she was at a loss for words and Jolie was starting to pick up on that.

"Well work jeans and jeans are two different things and if we have time I might show you that. You bought me a beautiful dress, which is something I don't normally wear, so if you want, I'll return the favor and introduce you to the new world of denim."

"We'll see."

The helicopter raced toward the state line and soon the buildings of Los Angeles came into view. The pilot kept going though, until the Pacific waters were in sight, and they kept that course until the houses started to get further and further apart signaling they were leaving the urban sprawl for the big money homes. To own this much coastline in California put you in a league few would ever achieve.

"Do you ever pump Hugo gas?" Jolie nodded at the question. "The CEO of the company Huey and his wife Connie live just down the way there." The blonde looked to where Becker was pointing and a castle like home sat majestically on a hillside over looking the blue water. "They met on Valentine's Day in high school eons ago, as she tells it, and they have celebrated the anniversary ever since. No matter what day of the week it falls on, they have a big party and hire a big band so they can jitterbug. I try to make it when I'm in town but it's been a few years. If it sounds too corny for you, we don't have to stay long."

"I forgot to ask you something?"

"Ask away, Ms. Clement."

"Actually I need to ask you two things." She looked back at the house that was getting closer and noticed there was more than one helicopter parked in the open land around the house. "First, will you please call me Jolie? If you don't, I won't dance with you. Which leads me to my original question, do you jitterbug, Becker?"

Memories of a rainy day spent with Ruth listening to the radio came to mind. Her mentor had endured her big feet until she got the steps down. That day when she twirled the young woman so devoted to God around the wimple had come off and it was the first time Becker had seen the beautiful blonde hair it hid. The sight had made her stop and stare until Ruth blushed from the scrutiny.

"Maybe I should ask about the girl who caused that look on your face?" Jolie finished with an unexpected question.

"Just thinking of the day I learned to dance is all, so yes I do know a few steps. I promise to try and stay off your feet."

She waited to see if there would be more, but Becker fell silent and stayed that way until they were seated in the jeep that had come to pick them up and bring them to the house. "And the girl?" Jolie tried again.

Before she answered, Becker took out the coin in her pocket. The words inscribed on it were getting worn from the touch of her fingers but they were still legible. "The girl, as you put it, taught me that nothing is impossible when it came to what I set as my goals." Jolie read the line and waited for Becker to finish. "The other thing she taught me was there are some things that are too vast to ever be possible no matter how much you might want them."

"Her loss for not giving you the chance."

The dark head shook as Becker accepted the coin back and put it in her pocket. "It was me who walked away before she comprised something she believed in deeply." There was a part of her heart that had held out hope she and Ruth would someday grow to be something more, but it was a child's dream that died in the face of reality. "I think that I would've always fallen short of her first choice."

Jolie reached for Becker's hand and sandwiched it between both of hers. "This may be a guess on my part, but you're a wonderful person with a good heart. If she didn't see that then she's a fool."

"I paid you to go out with me," Becker reminded her.

"True, but that doesn't make you a monster."

"Okay, let me put it this way, she was already married to someone else."

The hand was dropped instantly and Jolie's face became guarded. "So you make a habit of this do you?"

"Her name is Ruth and she's married to God." The look she was getting only intensified so Becker's words sped up. "She's a nun, Jolie, and she helped raise me." In as short an explanation as she could think to give, Becker gave her a history lesson on Becker Gaudet and her upbringing. "So you see, even though our ages really aren't that far apart, and no matter how wonderful I think I am, it's hard to compete with the perfect Guy." Becker got another shot to the shoulder for the corny ending, but Jolie's smile was back in place.

They mingled for the first hour and Becker introduced her to the people she knew, making Jolie feel like they really were out on a date. When the music started, she forgot about Claire and all the betrayal she'd woken up with, and followed Becker's lead on the dance floor. No matter how strange their arrangement, Jolie found that when Becker lowered her defenses and smiled, it was hard to resist having a good time. They were waiting for the jeep to bring them to their ride back to Vegas when Connie and Huey came out to say goodbye. During the afternoon Jolie had learned that the nice older man had been instrumental in Becker getting her start. A start the tall woman paid back in full within a year with more than money. She was a loyal friend and came whenever Huey was having trouble with his health or his business.

"My dear, Huey and I wanted to come and tell you how pleased we were to meet you. I haven't seen Beck smile this much in forever." Connie pulled Jolie aside as their partners talked about business. "I hope you know you're invited back next year."

It wasn't in Jolie's heart to tell the woman the truth about the arrangement between them. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Hugo, I had a wonderful time."

"Please, it's Connie, and I meant what I said. Even if the workaholic can't make it, you are more than welcome. Before today I didn't even think she could dance and only came to humor me." They both looked to Becker who was at the moment hugging Huey goodbye. "She is remarkable isn't she?"

"I haven't known her for very long, but I have to agree."

The ride back to the Bellagio was made in the comfortable silence they seemed to enjoy together, and before Jolie was ready, they were back in Becker's suite. The breakfast food had long been cleared away and a beautiful bouquet of flowers now sat on the table.

"How did you know these were my favorite?" Jolie ran her finger along a line of deep violet in the mostly white Stargazer Lilly. They had talked a little about their jobs on the flight out and Becker had no trouble picturing Jolie bringing joy to people with flowers.

"I called Oscar when you were in the bathroom and he called your shop. A nice young woman who works for you was more than helpful." There was a stack of phone messages next to the arrangement but Becker had no desire to pick them up for the moment. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

"I think we established I'm yours for the night."

"I think we established that we wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable with, so would you like to have dinner with me?"

Jolie forgot the flowers and walked to where Becker was standing. She slowly lifted her hands and placed them on the strong looking chest. "I would be honored to have dinner with you, if you ask me for something that you want."

"The dress," Becker's voice broke a little and she had to stop and clear her throat. "Would you wear the dress?"

"Meet you back out here in an hour?"

The dark head nodded and Jolie smiled a bit at the blush on the good-looking face. "Take all the time you need."

Jolie walked to the room she'd been given for the day and vowed to take just enough time to make herself presentable. Unless Becker changed dramatically in the next few hours, this experience wouldn't be the nightmare she had feared it would be.

They walked through the casino close together but not touching. A pair of sul. gray eyes followed their progression taking in the smile on Jolie's face. The blonde hair was pinned up and the dress Becker had given her fit like it was made specifically for her. To anyone else watching they looked like a couple who had been together for years, but Claire knew better. Jolie looked like she had fallen into her role as a whore quite nicely. At the entrance to the casino shops, they descended an escalator and were escorted to an area Becker had reserved for the night. Off to the side of the Prime restaurant was a balcony that overlooked the fountains the casino was famous for. The space was filled with flowers, and at the center, sat one table illuminated by candlelight. It was the perfect place to enjoy the free show that would be cued up every fifteen minutes.

"They're known for their steaks here but if you don't care for that, you can order what ever style of food you like and it won't be a problem," Becker explained as she pulled out her chair. Nearby a waiter popped open a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses.

The meal was as perfect as the setting and they sat and talked about a variety of things. On the way back to the room, Jolie took Becker's offered arm for the walk and she fell silent not sure about how this night would end. When the elevator door closed behind them, Becker turned on the stereo and put her hand out in invitation. Jolie accepted and they started to dance to the slow romantic music Becker had chosen.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Jolie, you can ask me anything."

"Why did you really do all of this?" Becker's hand felt hot and the material of her jacket felt soft against her cheek. "You had to realize I was satisfied with the money you gave us initially with no questions asked. All this was unnecessary."

"When I was twelve, I met a woman who was the first person in my life to love me, and the first person to notice I existed. Sister Ruth wasn't much older than I was really, but she was so much more than my caretaker and mentor, she was and still is the only family I have, aside from Oscar. The day we met, I was being bullied by a group of idiots who roamed the neighborhood looking for people weaker than themselves to harass."

Jolie reached up and let her hair down, shaking her head to loosen the blonde locks into falling around her shoulders. "You don't exactly strike me as someone I'd pick on."

"When Sister Ruth walked up I was actually holding my own and punching everyone I could reach. If you have any experience with nuns, you'd know it's big trouble to be doing that within eyesight of those black robes." Becker smiled when Jolie looked up at her and smiled. "I thought I was in for a knuckle rapping with the infamous ruler they all seem to carry, when instead, she explained that it was all right to take up for yourself if the situation called for it. In fact it was a sin to not fight for those who can't or won't fight for themselves."

"That sounds noble, but what does it have to do with me?"

Becker released Jolie's hand and ran her fingers along the blonde's cheek. "Sometimes it's the battles we don't acknowledge that are the hardest to fight."

The way the blue eyes took her in made Jolie want to cry. "What do you mean?"

"At first you reminded me of her, or at least what Ruth would have been like before she took her vows. Then I saw you again in that boutique and I saw you weren't like her at all. You're a beautiful woman who made vows of her own, and as much as I wanted to ignore it, I saw the ring on your finger." The fingers moved again down to Jolie's neck. "Then I met the woman you share your life with and decided to fight."

"Do I look like someone who needs defending?" There was no malice in her question but Jolie's smile faded some. She was tired of strong women who felt they knew what she needed better than she did.

"What you have with Claire is none of my business, Jolie, and today wasn't about trying to change that."

"Then what was it about?"

"I think the battle I wanted to fight was to do everything in my power to remind you that you are unique." Becker lowered her head and kissed her forehead. "It might have been wrong, but I wanted to show you just how unique you are and how beautiful you are because of it."

"But the money…I thought…"

"The money is still yours, but this is where our time together ends."

It was a gift, a way out without comprising anything, but Jolie didn't feel relief, just a little disappointed. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but you don't want me?"

Becker looked at her before lowering her head again. This time her lips pressed up against Jolie's with the serious intent of showing her just how much she was wanted. It made the blonde close her eyes and fall against the tall body as Becker's tongue asked for admittance that was readily granted. Maybe it was because it was someone new and the situation was a little unorthodox, but Jolie got caught up in the moment. She was left dazed when Becker pulled away and just held her.

"Not want you? You can't think that." She kissed the top of the blonde head and held Jolie a little longer. "I just want you to walk out of here gaining something and not feeling as if you've lost something no one can ever give you back." Long fingers tapped over her heart. "Something in here that no amount of money can replace." They shared one more short kiss before Becker did pull away completely. "Be well, Jolie, be happy, and thank you for the day."

The finality of it made Jolie notice the bags by the door. "You're leaving?"

"The room is yours as long as you need it, and Constance is around if you need anything and to get your bank information to make the transfer. I'm going back tonight so you won't have to worry about anything." She turned her back on the petite woman so she wouldn't see her eyes. "I hope things work out with Claire." For once Becker figured Ruth would forgive her the lie.

With that, a porter arrived when Becker called for the elevator and she was gone.

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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