LipstickLeslee (4 page)

I would have her, I knew it now. Not just here in this
random place on a wham-bam basis, but as my lover, my woman, my partner.

And the only way I knew how to talk this hot hetero woman
into walking on the wild lesbian side with me was to seduce her just like I was
now. Hook her and then sink her into my world until she drowned in me.

Melanie sucked in a ragged breath and held it in. Her body
stiffened. She was just about to come all over my face when a knock sounded at
the door.

Her eyes flew open. They were confused, glazed pools of
passion and disappointment all wrapped up in one. “What the
¼
?”

“Leslee.” The voice of Billy sounded on the other side of
the door.
Crap, go away.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the contest. You’re on
in less than ten minutes.”

“Shit.” I stood and straightened my wig and dress. “I forgot
about the contest. Come on, get up. You’ve still got to teach me how to dance.
Damn
that motherfucker Charlie.”

“B-but
¼
” Melanie
sighed and perched herself on the edge of the couch. She straightened her dress
and combed her fingers through her hair. Her face reddened and she looked
everywhere but at me. Finally she met my gaze. “Sorry to say this, Leslee, but
you
do
look like a clown after all. You have lipstick smeared all over
your mouth.”

I chuckled. “So do you, honey. But you’re going to fix that
on the both of us right now. Then teach me a few quick dance moves so I can get
this stupid contest over with.”

“Fine. Sure.” Melanie reached for the makeup. She stood with
it in hand and I noted how her legs wobbled as she tried to walk on her
stilettoes, which was highly unusual for Melanie. Normally she could glide on
those dumb shoes as if she were barefooted.

Ah, so I’d rattled her. She was feeling the aftereffects of
my lovemaking and the frustration at not being brought to orgasm.

She guided me to sit back on the desk so she could fix my
makeup. Well, it was good for her. It would make her want me more, and I
certainly wanted her more now than I ever had.

Fucking right. My fantasy of making love with Melanie
Kirtright was going to come true.

Tonight.

Chapter Three

Melanie: Contest of Seduction

“What are you two doing here?” I gawked at Kaydee and
Savanah as my heels skidded to a halt on the wood floor. They stood about
three-deep in the crowd right near the path Leslee and I took to get to the
stage stairs.

I instantly regretted my decision to be her partner, but how
could I not after that prick Charles had treated Leslee so badly? Still, I
wouldn’t have agreed to it if I’d known they were going to be here. Too late.
We were up next and the last to perform, but I swear I’d be the first to puke.
My stomach was already churning with nerves, and that was before I’d caught
sight of my stepmom and Kaydee. Now I could swear I was just going to flat-out
die of a panic attack.

Savanah, whom I barely knew—she’d met and married my late
dad well after I’d gone off to college—and Kaydee were going to watch me dirty
dance with a woman?

A lesbian just like them?

What would they think? Would they raise their brows in
silent judgment and call me a hypocrite? Or would they accuse me of being a
lesbian too?

I thought of what had just taken place in Leslee’s office. I
clenched my legs together at the heart-pounding memory of it. A flood of heat
spilled between my legs, reminding me how I’d liked it. No, I’d loved it. It
had been pure excitement, a seduction like I’d never experienced in my entire
life, not with Will, not with boring Tom, not with anyone.

Crap.
Was
I a lesbian too, just like them, just like
all these people surrounding me?

I glanced around at the crowd of mixed women, a rainbow of
butches and femmes and everything in between. The patrons cheered at the
current couple on stage in the midst of a BDSM skit where the Dom play-whipped
“his” slave with a leather crop and the sub responded with complete abandon and
apparent arousal.

Kaydee looked me up and down, then back at the stage. She
wore faded Levi’s, and despite the cold, a black tank. The fresh-cut ends of
her dark hair rested on fit shoulders. She stood behind Savanah, her arms
wrapped around her lover like a vise. “What are
we
doing here? Um, I
think we should be asking you that question, chickee.”

“Melanie!” Savanah untangled herself from Kaydee’s embrace
and threw her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you, honey. But what
are
you doing here?”

I caught a whiff of Savanah’s expensive perfume and my face
became engulfed in the blonde cloud of her long hair. Even in this weather she
wore a denim miniskirt and a wisp of a top that revealed a deep cleavage.
Thigh-high black leather boots adorned her long legs. But knowing her, she
probably had a long, expensive fur in the coat-check room.

I bit my tongue at first, embarrassed by what I was about to
admit. Then Kaydee gave me this spill-it look that had me doing just that. “I’m
helping Leslee out. She needed a
¼
a
partner in the contest.”

“You’re going up on stage with her?” Savanah’s voice rose in
a higher pitch than her usual girlie tone. Her skin was salon-tanned, her eyes
bright blue and her makeup perfect. She was the kind of woman no one could
ignore, the one who stood out in a crowd even when she scaled things down, kind
of like the Pamela Anderson type or something. Hmm. Maybe she should have done
Leslee’s face instead of me?

Leslee finally spoke up. She shrugged. “I talked her into
it. Poor thing, here she was headed out on a date and I begged her to detour
here and help me out. So how’s business, Savanah?”

Something nagged at me about “date” but I homed in on her apparent
familiarity with Savanah’s real estate company.

“You know her?” I asked, looking back and forth between
Savanah and Leslee.

Savanah laughed that husky laugh of hers. “I was just going
to ask Leslee how she knew you. But yes, I met Leslee through her ex, Charles.
I used to be his exclusive broker—until I found out his anti-gay agenda.
Dropped that asshole from my client list like a hot coal from a fire.”

“Melanie and I work together,” Leslee explained.

“Right, you ‘work’ together, and now you’re going to dance
together,” Kaydee said in her usual blunt manner. She added a wink in an
attempt to soften the blow. Her olive-green eyes danced with mischief, as if
she already knew the sin I’d just committed in Leslee’s office.

Mortified, all I could come up with was to stick my tongue
out at her. I wasn’t like her, I wasn’t. I was just curious, and that was
totally different than living the lifestyle she did. “I’m doing a coworker a
favor, and on top of that, I’m—”

“Give it up for Trudy and Val,” the emcee announced over the
speaker. “Next up we have the co-owner of Pussycat’s, Leslee Truman, and her
partner in crime, Melanie No-last-name.”

The crowd went nuts. Cheers and whistles rang out. They
chanted, “Go, go, go!” and hands shoved us toward the stage stairs.

I blew out a breath as the nerves snapped off like popcorn
in my belly. “Oh god.” I swallowed a lump of dread and wondered how it was that
my night had started off mundane, only to do a swift one-eighty into the
unknown.

“Ready?” Leslee asked, holding her hand out.

I looked down at her offered hand of support, then up at
Kaydee. She bit her lip and glanced away, the bitch, as if to say, “Don’t look
at me, I can’t help you. Remember? I’m the one who knows your homophobe
tendencies and hypocritical personality.”

I inhaled, let it out. The music pounded and the DJ
introduced us over the radio waves while the crowd chanted. I set my hand in
Leslee’s. Soft warmth filled my palm as she threaded her fingers through mine
and curled them tightly around my trembling hand.

She leaned close and whispered in my ear. I caught the aroma
of her perfume entwined with my own sex scent on her breath. My clit throbbed
and I imagined those lips on my pussy, kissing, licking, devouring. “Each skit
is only allowed to be two minutes long, so it’ll be over before you know it.
You’ll do fine. Me?” She chuckled and snorted. “I’m the one who can’t dance. I
feel like a fish out of water in this stupid dress.”

“No, Leslee, you’ll do fine. I’ll see to it.” She’d revealed
her own insecurities to me at a crucial time, which gave me a surge of
determination and bravery. I scanned her body from stilettoes to full, round
breasts bulging against the tight white dress. She looked fabulous, sexy, even
girlie. Something about the way she appeared now gave me the urge to kiss her,
to hold her and soothe her and take control. “And you look beautiful, by the
way.”

Her smile faded. She caught my gaze in a snare of emotion.
“Really? You think so?”

Kaydee threw her arm around Savanah’s bare shoulder and stuck
her fingers in a C into her mouth. Her shrill whistles rang out. She stopped
the annoying noise only long enough to shout, “Get ready, gals. Hot lipstick
chicks on the way.”

I ignored her and focused on Leslee. Her eyes were tormented
pools of fear and stress brought on by that son of a bitch Charles. I caught a
glimpse of him over by the bar standing there with his Armani-clad arms
crossed, his lip curled in derision.

What a prick.

We’d show him. We’d make this place so popular, he’d never
be able to sell it.

“I know so. I’m the one who put you all together.” I grinned
at her, suddenly proud of my work on her face and body, and of the fact that I
would be helping my boss to shake a fist and fly the finger at her asshole ex.

She glanced down at herself then back up at me. “If you say
so.”

“I do. Now let’s get this show on the road to ‘over’.”

She nodded and pulled me through the cheering crowd. We took
the stairs slowly, seductively. We’d ordered a vaudeville-type song to be
played with our skit. Its
vavoom
beat started up, and when we reached
center stage, I took Leslee in my arms just as I’d showed her in the office.

“That’s it,” I whispered in her ear. “Just follow me. Swing
your hips in time with mine.”

The crowd screamed their approval. The DJ made a few snarky
comments about hot lipstick lesbians and sex.

I ran my hands down her arms and threaded our fingers
together at our sides. We swayed. I gazed into her painted eyes, at first for
the crowd’s benefit but then I became mesmerized. I couldn’t look away. The
mascara and coal eyeliner emphasized the gleam of passion blooming in her eyes
with each brush of our bodies and every second that ticked by. Our pussies
pressed together as we moved and her lipstick-painted mouth fell open, making
an O of surprised desire.

The bar patrons screamed, whistled and cheered louder, so we
were able to shout at each other without being heard. Her eyes crossed briefly
before she called out, “You tasted so delicious, Melanie. Looked so perfect.”

Her words sent a fire racing through my bloodstream straight
to my cunt. We turned as I’d showed her earlier, our hands entwined again, so
that we were now back-to-back. Her bottom warmed and brushed mine as she
shifted her hips in time with me.

I turned my head away from the crowd so that I could
converse in a full shout over our shoulders. “I must admit, it turned me on.
You have a very talented tongue.”
And I can’t believe I’m talking like this.

We pressed our backs together to support one another and did
a rocking motion as we lowered our asses in unison closer to the stage. The
crowd roared in approval.

“That was only the beginning of what I can show you. Will
you let me finish what I started?”

My heart fluttered and my groin quickened at the possibility
of having her tongue doing those wicked things to me again. I’d been right at
the door to climax when Billy had knocked and interrupted the magic. So why not
let her finish? It wouldn’t mean anything, just that I needed relief—right?

As if she’d read my mind, Leslee chuckled and added, “I
promise I won’t turn you into a lesbian.”

We came back up in a perfectly mirrored choreography. I
turned and took her in my arms again and we bumped our pelvises together,
mimicking fucking, in time with the
bang-bang-bang
musical beat. She
spread her legs. I wiggled my way in between them and bent her backward over my
arm just as planned. Her pussy lips rubbed over mine through the thin fabric
while her wig brushed the floor with a seductive swish. I hunched over her and
cupped her jaw, then slipped a finger between her teeth. Her red-painted lips
puckered as she sucked my finger into her mouth, past her teeth and tongue to
her throat. The crowd squealed in delight while I enjoyed the tingle her
sucking sent down my arm to my breasts and pussy.

I thought I heard Kaydee shouting her approval, but quickly
turned my attention back to Leslee. Her eyes were closed as she suckled and
licked at my finger, as if she were giving it a blowjob. A stronger sexual burn
sizzled through my blood and made my nipples harden into pebbles that tented
the bodice of my dress. Apparently it was obvious because I saw some butch
woman lick her lips and hold her fingers up to her flat breasts and point
outward, imitating taut nipples.

I pulled my finger from Leslee’s mouth and raked my hand
down her smooth neck, over her collarbone, then grazed her tight nipple with my
palm before cupping the full flesh. It fascinated me. The rest of the bar—the
cheers, the DJ’s comments—all seemed to fade into nothingness as I held the breast
of my first female lover. My loins pounded with need. I ground my pussy harder
against Leslee’s. She moaned and her eyes fluttered open. I leaned closer,
still holding her in a dip, and kissed her earlobe. She shivered.

“You didn’t answer me,” I heard her say in a sweet tone of
utter desire. “Will you let me finish what I started?”

Mmmm, yes. I studied the slope of her neck and ran my tongue
down the silky flesh. She tasted salty and soapy. My mouth watered. I had this
sudden urge to close my mouth over hers, lipstick-to-lipstick,
tongue-to-tongue.

The spongy flesh of her breast filled my hand while my
finger and thumb found her hardness. I pinched her nipple and she gasped. I ran
kisses up her neck, along her jaw, until I reached her mouth. Our eyes met. I
couldn’t break the spell if I wanted to. She looked stunning in my arms, so
beautiful, not even a smidgen of the unisex version of Leslee who had met me at
the door when I’d arrived.

I wanted her. I knew that now. Especially after that
incident in her office, and even more so now in the seconds before the kiss.

“Yes,” I whispered against her mouth. “Yes, I want you to
finish what you started. And I want to finish what I’m starting now.”

My mouth closed over hers and we sighed together. Her lips
were full and yielding against mine, her tongue warm, wet and hesitant. Her
arms twined around my neck. She tasted like me, of my own juices that had
remained on her tongue after eating me out earlier. I liked the taste, creamy,
almost tinted with brine. Totally delicious.

I lifted her back to a standing position, never breaking the
seal of the kiss, and walked her backward to the rear stage wall. I slammed her
a little too hard into the surface, but her kiss became hungrier following the
brief jolt, so I knew the aggression turned her on. She clutched at me,
drinking of my mouth, kissing me like I’d never been kissed before. It fueled
me to grab her arms and pin them above her head while I danced wildly to the
music and rubbed my gyrating body over hers in a promise of what would come
soon between us.

Then something drove me to the depths of insanity. I let go
of her hands, delighting in the feel of them now resting on my shoulders, and
planted my heels apart so that I could thrust my pelvis between her legs. I
hoisted her up so that she leaned against the wall with her legs now wrapped
around my waist. Her dress hiked up so that I could barely glimpse her pussy in
the small space between our bodies. It was shaven except for a narrow landing
strip. My mouth watered and I wondered what she would taste like, and if I
would like it as much as she had seemed to enjoy tasting me. I heard the crowd
go wild somewhere off in the distance, but my main focus was on Leslee and on
getting to her breast, to her pussy.