The Lovers (6 page)

How does she seem to know something is going on with me from nothing more than a drop in my tone? But she does.

I shrug, lie. “Sure. Yes. I'm fine.”

“But…?” She arches a brow, clearly waiting for me to answer.

“But…I've had some…less than stellar experiences with men.”

“Welcome to the club, hon.”

She doesn't say it sarcastically. She means it.

“What happened to you, Audrey?” I ask quietly.

She shrugs, goes back to painting my nails. “Same old story most girls have, I guess. Date rape.”

“Jesus, Audrey.”

Another shrug. “It happens. I was at a frat party with a friend. I wasn't actually in college yet, but I went to the parties all the time.” She is stroking the polish onto my toes in short, even streaks of pink. “He was so cute, and I liked him. That part really bummed me out. Disappointed me. But I grew up that night, you know?”

“Maybe. But I don't get how you can sound so casual about it. Wasn't it awful? It must have been.”

“Oh, it was.” She bites her lip for a moment as she applies a second coat of polish to my toes. I wish she'd look up at me, that I could see her eyes so I'd know what she really feels about what happened to her. “And that wasn't the only time. Happened to me again a few years later, and that time it was my boyfriend. He just didn't want to hear the word
no.
But it's part of life. I don't let it get me down.” She's quiet a moment, studying her handiwork. “I don't let anything get me down.”

“I don't know how you do that. I wish I could.”

“I refuse to give anyone that kind of power over me. It's as simple as that.” She looks up finally and her eyes are blazing. She is not as unconcerned about what happened to her as she claims to be. She gets up, brings the bottle of wine back with her, fills our empty glasses. “You shouldn't either, Bettina.”

I shake my head, drinking more wine, letting it warm my limbs. “I don't know. I don't think I can do that. I can't think of it that way. I'm not a strong person, Audrey. I'm not like you.”

“We are all a lot more alike than we think we are,” she says. “Tell me what happened to you, Bettina, because I can tell something did.”

I shake my head again, but I take a long swallow of my wine and tell her. “It was a friend of my dad's, another college professor. They had one of those cocktail parties people in academia seem to have all the time.” Hard lump in my throat, but I continue. “I was hiding away in my room, listening to music. He came in, said he was looking for the bathroom. But I'd seen him watching me before, and I knew he'd come looking for me. He was a little drunk.”

“But not enough that he didn't know exactly what he was doing,” Audrey says, her voice low, dangerous.

“Yes.”

“Asshole.”

“Yes.”

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Fuck.”

“He didn't…I mean, he touched me, but he didn't…you know.” I shake my head. I want to tell Audrey everything about me, just open myself to her, yet this is still hard to talk about. Even with my therapist. It's hard to think about.

“He's still a reprehensible bastard, Bettina! He probably would have done more if there wasn't a party going on in the next room.”

“Maybe. I don't know.”

“And it doesn't even matter. What matters is the intent. That he meant to do whatever he wanted to you. That he made you a victim. That he took your power from you.”

Why does she seem more disturbed by my experience than by her own? More disturbed than I am myself? She puts her wineglass down on the table and moves up to sit next to me.
Her mouth is set into a grim line, her forehead creased. Her eyes are dark, glittering.

I just nod my head, the extent of her anger seeming to drain some of my own.

“Look, Bettina. You can't let this guy control who you are. Do you understand? You cannot let him win.”

“I haven't, not entirely. It's affected me. But I haven't allowed that one experience to dictate who I am. I've still dated, had sex. I just haven't…really had intense passion for anyone. But maybe I haven't met the right person. Or maybe I haven't been ready. I don't know.”

She is so close to me I can feel the heat coming off her skin. How can I feel this way talking about what happened to me, about that night that scarred me. Fucking impossible. But I can't help it. And this moment is all about Audrey, about opening myself to her, not about that asshole, as she says. Maybe this is what she means. And I realize I feel an enormous sense of relief, even more than I did when I told my therapist about the incident. Maybe it's knowing that she's been through it, too. I feel closer to her, some sort of kinship.

“Good,” she says, nodding. “You can't let that experience define who you are. You can't let it control what you do.”

“I don't think I have. Not entirely. But these guys…it's never been…important to me. I've never really been into it. I do better with my vibrator,” I tell her, then feel heat creep into my cheeks.

She smiles wryly. “Don't we all? Nothing to be ashamed about, hon, we all do it. No one knows your body better than you do.” She pauses, licks her lips. “Except maybe another woman.”

I nearly jump out of my skin, my pulse racing. Her words have switched a gear in my brain so suddenly my head is spinning.

“Do I shock you, Bettina?” She's watching me, her gaze steady, her voice low. “I don't think so.”

I shake my head. I can't speak.

“I turned to women after that first experience,” she says. “I needed that softness.” She reaches out and strokes my hair from my face, and I go hot all over, desire a thrumming pulse between my thighs. “Don't you ever need that?” she asks, her tone so low I can barely hear her. “Don't you ever crave that gentle touch? That safety?”

I swallow hard. “Yes. I think…I do.”

And it's true. Somehow, I feel that it might be healing for me. I imagine her soft hands on me, and I am back to that simmering state of lust instantly.

“Do you want that with me, Bettina?”

It comes out on a whisper, my throat closing up, tight with need. “Yes.”

She smiles. “I was hoping you'd say that.” And she leans in and kisses me.

Audrey's mouth is soft and silky as butter, her tongue sweet with the wine. And I sit frozen for several moments, my body blazing with need, paralyzed with it. Then my hands come up and I bury them in her hair, as I've been wanting to do since I first saw her, I realize from a distance. She sighs into my mouth, and we slip back together on the bed.

Her body is delicate next to mine, but her kiss is powerful, taking me over. I feel as if I am in some sort of dream state. This can't really be happening. But my body knows it's real. My nipples are so hard they hurt, my sex pulsing, damp, and I arch into her without thinking about what I'm doing.

Her arms are around me, and she holds me as tight as any man, tighter maybe, her full breasts crushed against mine. I can feel the hard points of her nipples, and I shift until our nipples are aligned. Desire flares like heat lightning in my belly, spreads outward, until I am weak with it.

I have a moment of panic: I don't know how to do this. My heart is a hammer in my chest. I freeze.

Audrey pulls back and whispers to me, “Don't worry, Bet
tina. I'll take care of you. I'll show you how. Trust me. Trust yourself.”

Her voice is soft, breathless, and I know that she wants me,
know
it in a way I wasn't certain of until now. And it gives me permission to want this as much as I do. To want it, and to have it, and to simply let it happen.

She straddles me, her slender legs on either side of mine. Her weight is nothing on my body. Her heat is everything. Her skirt is pooled around her waist, and as she settles onto that small band of bare skin between my jeans and my sweater I realize she's not wearing any underwear. She is slick and hot against my stomach. A shock goes through me, making me moan.

Audrey smiles a little as she pulls her top over her head, and her breasts are full and naked, the nipples dark pink and as hard as I know my own must be. I want to take them into my mouth, suck them. I want to do it so badly I'm shaking.

“Beautiful Bettina,” Audrey whispers, reaching out to take my hair between her fingers. “I love your curls. They're wild. There's a wild part of you, Bettina, just waiting to be let out.”

“I don't know…”

“Oh, yes. You just need someone to help you free it.”

I don't know what to say.

“Come on. Take your sweater off for me,” she tells me. “Let me see you.”

I have to pull in a hitching breath before I drag my sweater over my head. I feel clumsy, as though my hands are half-numb. Audrey is still sitting on me, her sex wet against my belly. She leans over me, kisses me again, and it is soft and moist, her lovely mouth on mine, her tongue slipping between my lips. And I think back to the dream I had, about us being mermaids together, and fucking in the ocean. And
what's happening right now is every bit as dreamlike to me. Mystical.

She kisses me harder, beginning to pant into my mouth, and my body heats with desire. A low humming has started in my veins, in my pussy. I can hardly stand it. I pull my mouth from hers.

“I need to be naked with you, Audrey.”

“Yes, I need it, too. Let's get you undressed.”

She sits up and pulls me with her, her hands hard on my shoulders. She unzips my jeans quickly, and I lift my hips as she helps me wiggle out of them. She tosses them on the floor.

“Cute,” she says, hooking her fingers in the waistband of my underwear, which is peach-colored cotton with a little white lace trim. Then her smile turns a bit feral as she drags them down over my hips, and I am almost naked, finally. “Take off your bra, Bettina.”

I reach behind my back and undo the clasp, and my breasts feel heavy as the fabric falls away.

“Oh.”

It is a small, breathy sound of admiration from her, and I flush. My breasts are small but well shaped. One of my best assets, I think. And glancing down I see that my nipples are swollen, a pale pink darkening by the moment. I arch a little, silently begging for her touch, and she leans over me once more and strokes the hard tips with her fingers. Her touch is soft, gentle, her hands impossibly hot. So different from a man's.

“Ah, God.”

“You like this, Bettina?”

“Yes…”

“Do it to me. Touch me.”

I take her breasts in both hands, pressing just a little, testing the fullness of her flesh, and she sighs. She takes my nipples
between her fingers and pulls them out in long, sweet strokes, and I do the same to her. And all the time her blue gaze is on mine. I watch as her eyes cloud, go darker, like a storm coming over the sea. Her nipples are going harder and harder beneath my touch, as hard as mine. It's like looking at some sort of reflection, as though my pleasure is mirrored in her, intensifying everything. And I am growing wetter and wetter, my sex filling until the pulse beat of desire is painful.

“Tell me what you want, Bettina,” she says.

“I want…I want to touch you. Everywhere. But I don't know how.”

“Just think about how you want me to touch you. To kiss you. To lick you.”

Quick flash of my dreams, of a feminine mouth between my thighs, and I hold back a groan. But I nod, understanding. I pull on her skirt, and she lifts up on her knees and slips out of it before pushing me down on the bed once more and straddling my prone body.

Her sex is shaved, beautifully naked, the lips pink and tender looking. And her clitoris is swollen and longer than mine, peeking from between those soft lips. I reach out and touch that hard little nub. She moans, smiles down at me. Encouraged, I slip my fingers along her slit, and it is all wet, lovely heat. Incredible. I shiver, desire a steady thrumming in my body, my own sex filling, swelling.

“Come on, Bettina,” she says, her hips arching toward me. “Really touch me.”

I slide the tip of one finger inside her and feel her clench around me, so hot and tight. I push a little deeper and she lets out a long, slow breath. It's like nothing I have ever felt before, not even like my own body. Her pussy is so soft and slick as I add another finger and push a little deeper. I want to explore
her, with my hands, with my mouth. But my own need is so great I can't really control myself, what's happening.

“Audrey, please…”

Another quick smile from her, then she is on me, my fingers slipping from her as she slides over my body, her weight pressing me down into the mattress. She spreads my thighs with her hands. One last smile up at me before she dips her head.

Another shock as her tongue flicks out, catching the tip of my clit, and I gasp.

“Oh!”

She uses her fingers to spread my pussy lips wide, and traces her tongue up and down my slit. It's very much like a man doing these things to me, except more gentle, more in tune with my desires, instant by instant. And the nearly excruciating knowledge that it is
her
doing this to me, her face between my spread thighs,
Audrey
licking my pussy in long, slow, lovely strokes. I am soaking wet, needy, writhing in moments. Then her tongue dips into my aching hole, wet and pressing, pushing inside me, and my whole body comes up off the bed.

“God! Audrey!”

She really goes to work then, licking and licking, my pussy, my clit, until I think I might lose my mind. Pleasure is like a knife, cutting into me over and over as I watch her dark head moving between my thighs. I can hardly believe it, that this is happening, that it's
her.
And I can barely hold my orgasm back. When she pushes her thumbs inside me, taking my clit into her mouth and sucking so hard it hurts, I come, shattering, lights flashing in front of my eyes, dazzling me.

“Audrey! Oh…”

She keeps licking me, and my climax shudders through me, and I don't know if it's ever going to stop. But eventually it does.

Usually after an orgasm I am languid, spent, but I am more eager than ever to have her under my hands, my mouth.

I sit up and she rolls onto her back on the bed, as though she's anticipated my need, or maybe simply her own.

“I want to do this right,” I tell her.

“You will.”

Her eyes are gleaming, fevered, her cheeks and her breasts flushed. I bend to take them in my hands once more. Her flesh is impossibly soft, lustrous and golden. Her nipples are larger than mine, dark and swollen. I pinch the tips lightly, watching her squirm. I pinch harder and her dark lashes flutter closed as she moans.

“Ah, yes, that's good, Bettina. Suck them, please. Come on.”

I bend over her, and I can smell sex on her, smell her desire, smell the scent of my climax all over her. I pull in a deep breath, my body simmering again already. Holding her left breast in my hand, I knead the flesh a bit before pulling the tip into my mouth.

“Oh, that's good,” she breathes.

I curl my tongue over her nipple. It's hard and soft all at once. I graze it with my teeth, take pleasure in the way she squirms. Then I suck. And she is all soft flesh and hard nipple, everything hot and fragrant. And I am going warm all over, my sex pulsing, needing to come again. But I will make her come first.

I slip one hand down between her thighs, and she opens for me. Her pussy is soft, swollen, smooth and slippery. I move my fingers down, over her slit, and she spreads even more. I find her hole, rubbing at the edges, slipping the tip of my finger in, then out. I cannot believe how hot and wet she is.

“Come on, Bettina. Come on.”

I suck her nipple harder, letting it slip from my lips at the
end, and she gasps. But I have to see her, have to watch my fingers inside her.

I shift so I can see better, and move one of her thighs, until she is spread wide on the bed. Her sex is pink and glistening with her juices. And I am fascinated simply watching my fingers stroking that lovely, wet flesh.

“Oh, you are killing me,” she groans.

But I can't help myself. I play with her a bit longer, just stroking her pussy lips, her hole, over and over, until she is writhing and panting.

Finally, I slip my fingers back inside, hard and all at once, and she clenches, going tight all over, but mostly it's her pussy grabbing on to my fingers. And my sex is pulsing with need, hers and my own.

God, I need her.

“Audrey, I need to…I need to fuck you. How do I do it?” I am desperate, lost suddenly.

But she sits up and drags me down on the bed and straddles me again.

“I'll fuck you, baby,” she says, making me shiver.

I have never heard anything as purely erotic as Audrey saying these words to me.

She pulls one of my legs over hers, yanking me until our bodies are right up against each other's. Her sex is hot on mine. Soft. Wet. Jesus.

Then she starts to move, a slow undulation of her hips, her hands digging into my buttocks as she holds me tight against her. And she is fucking me. And it is like nothing I have ever felt before.

She grinds into me, and soon I am moving with her, creating a rhythm, pussy to pussy, wet heat to wet heat. So slick, her swollen lips against my flesh, rubbing my mound, my
hard clit. Desire builds, hot, electric. And we are gasping and pumping our hips against each other.

“Oh, baby,” she moans. “I'm going to come, baby. Come on. Come with me.”

I am so fucking wet, slipping against her, and I feel her clit, feel how hard and hot it is. She reaches for me, her hands covering my breasts, her palms scorching hot against my nipples. And as she pinches them I explode. There is no other word for it. I'm coming so damn hard, my body clenching in hard jerks. I feel a liquid gush between my thighs, and I don't know whether it's her or me. Then she's tensing, shaking, her hips arching hard into mine, hurting me. But I don't care.

“Fuck!” she yells, then collapses on top of me.

We are both panting hard, my sex, my body, still pulsing. My head is buzzing. I can't think. I don't want to think.

I want Audrey to tell me everything is okay. That I did things right. But I didn't
make
her come, and it bothers me. Worries me.

I've never had this sort of concern with a man. Of course, men are easy; they always come. And none have ever really been important to me. I know that sounds harsh, but I can't help it.

Audrey lets out a deep sigh and rolls off me, but her head is pillowed on my shoulder. It feels nice. I turn my face and smell sex and the citrus scent of her hair, and faintly, the ocean air. Or maybe it's that ocean scent of female arousal, of female come. And suddenly I want to taste her, to know that scent, that female flavor.

I want to do it. But I don't know how. I don't even know how to ask if it's okay.

My body is heating again, my breasts going tight, my sex filling with the pressure of desire. But more than that, even, is this
need
to put my mouth on her. To make her come.

I roll onto my side and she is staring at me.

“That was awesome,” she says, making me smile. Making me feel a thousand times more confident. “I told you that you'd know what to do.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

She reaches out and smooths her palm over my side, my breast. “Your nipples are hard again. They're the prettiest shade of pink. Just like your nail polish. We probably smudged the hell out of it.”

I laugh until she tweaks my nipple between her fingers, and my laugh turns into a low moan.

Audrey grins. “You need more, Bettina?”

“Yes.”

“So do I.”

“I want to go down on you,” I tell her.

“Oh, yes, please. Come here.”

I assume she's going to roll onto her back, but instead she pushes me down flat, turns and straddles me, so that her pussy is right over my face. It's really beautiful up close. I've read of people describing a woman's sex as looking like a flower, an orchid, and it's true. I do nothing more than stare for several moments, fascinated, turned on simply looking at her. Then her hand slips between my thighs, stroking my slit, and I open my thighs wide.