Stolen Moments (9 page)

I sat in the park alone. Everyone had packed up and gone home. I sat alone untangling silence, trying to figure out the thoughts I didn’t have. The universe was crammed into my skull. She made the blood pound drum solos in my bones. We watched movies that night at her place and she kissed me and I melted. She kissed me and her mouth was cold from the ice cream we were eating; she tasted like chocolate and felt like velvet. I was nervous and excited and hot. She made me smolder; I wanted to start that same fire deep in her belly. She said I gave her tingles. I left when the credits rolled, we kissed at the front door and my feet didn’t hit the ground the whole walk home. I giggled like a fool and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I was horny. I couldn’t concentrate. I was supposed to be working, studying, cleaning, exercising, eating, anything but sitting in my room thinking about her. It was different this time. I won’t say that I wasn’t thinking of fucking her—I was. I was a twenty-five-year-old chronic masturbator. It’s the way I was thinking that was different. I was thinking of her smile close up, just before we kiss. I thought about the kiss, not how it made me feel but how she felt to me. I thought of her body, but not her tits and ass. I thought of her back just above her ass where her hips curved in and that smooth indent that traces the line of her spine. I was thinking poetry not porn.

I didn’t close my eyes when we kissed; I didn’t need to. Her skin failed to take on the aspects of an alien landscape this close… She was still beautiful to look at. It was so different to the boys I’d kissed, faces growing grotesque and monstrous as they got closer. If I didn’t close my eyes by the time they got to my lips I didn’t want their kisses. I was happy for the first time in ages. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was crazy like a monkey, like a fox in love.

She’d had a fight with her flatmates. She rang me and asked me to meet her after work. I felt like I was going into battle. My hair spray was my helmet; I armed myself with heels and camouflaged with powders and perfumes. I went into battle with my pink jeans on. We walked to a bar and I met one of her friends. I got drunk and ended up playing barroom footy with two boys I know. We all ended up in a heap on the floor. We were out on the street after that—barroom footy wasn’t endorsed by the management. The night was over, we were in the kitchen talking soft so I didn’t wake the girls I lived with. It was past my bedtime and I offered her the lounge or my bed, casually as I could manage with my heart beating purple and swollen on my sleeve. She took the bed and took my hand. I led her up the hall and into my bedroom. The battle was won. It was so natural, so real. There was nothing uncomfortable in the way she undressed. I didn’t feel self-conscious when I couldn’t get my foot out of my jeans and my hair caught in her necklace. I didn’t feel the need to turn off the light, I wanted to see her. We fell into bed and she covered my face with kisses. I looked at her and I wanted to eat her up. It was sexual but so much more than that. If it were a purely physical attraction it’d almost be perverted. It was so strong, obsessive even. Her smell was in my cells. She electroshocked my DNA. My hair follicles wanted to feel her.

My hands were everywhere and nowhere resisted, we fit together perfectly. She is slick and it’s easy for us to fall into a tidal rhythm, a lunar sway. We’re made of water and taste like the sea. My tongue found the hard pearl of her clit. She’s a thing of sea foam and dreams. She is an orchid that blooms once in a lifetime.

I wanted to say “I love you” but the words seemed like oversized dress-up clothes…sloppy and unreal, used too many times for meaningless bullshit. I love her but I wish I didn’t have to use that word. What we have is more pure than that. “Love” has been used and abused and misused too many times. “I love you” is lip service. I need to create a new word just for us. A word made out of salt meat and peach fuzz, of sweat and saliva. A word made from the crystallized feelings I have for her, shining like the sun with a million rainbows. A word no one else in any language ever can pronounce…A word just for us. Our word, our world.

Love-drunk.

The clock on the wall of the Meriwether Community Library refused to budge. Emily Fairfield stared at it the way she had the ones in grade school when it was nearly time for recess. She felt now, as she had then, impatient to have her fun.

And sex with Lindsey Carter certainly was fun.
More
than fun. It had become almost an obsession. Emily still couldn’t quite believe it. The best sex of her life—by a long shot, she would add—had happened to her at age forty-two.
And with a woman! Who’d have thought?

Emily had been all raging hormones and full-speed-ahead libido in the six months she’d been seeing the TV reporter, and thank goodness the feeling was mutual.

One or the other made the hour-long trip between their homes every day or two. They always ended up in bed. Sometimes they started there. Lindsey had been celibate a long time too. They couldn’t get enough of each other.

But then Lindsey had been sent downstate for a week to shoot a series of reports on small-town harvest festivals, and they’d been reduced to nightly telephone conversations.

Their talks inevitably included vivid descriptions of what they were going to do to each other when they were reunited, the promises getting hotter and more explicit as each day passed.

Emily was simmering on a low boil.

She’d had to fight not to touch herself the night before, while Lindsey described in a seductive purr some of the body parts she planned to explore with her tongue and mouth and hands. And then, just before they hung up, Lindsey had teased her with the promise of a
nice surprise
when she got back to town.

Emily was never disappointed when Lindsey came over with
nice surprises.
The last one had been chocolate body paint.

In her rooms above the library, Emily had set the stage for the perfect reunion. The dining-room table was festooned with her best china and candles, and she’d sprung for some incredibly soft new sheets for her queen-sized bed. Dinner would be takeout from the Slice of Heaven café down the street, because Emily knew that neither of them would want to take time for cooking.

Now she just had to wait. But waiting was impossible. She tried to busy herself putting books away and straightening shelves. But it seemed as though every title that passed through her hands only served to further fuel her imagination.
Between Lovers, The Touch of Fire, Simply Sensual, If You Come Softly, Kiss the Girls.

Emily’s heartbeat picked up as soon as she heard the familiar roar coming up Main Street. It doubled when the sound abruptly died in front of the library.
She’s early!
She went to the front window.

Damn, woman, you look fine
, Emily thought as Lindsey got off her Shadow and took off her sunglasses and helmet.

Lindsey Carter had on black leather pants, which hugged her tight ass and long legs like a second skin. Her motorcycle jacket was open, and Emily could see the reporter’s firm round breasts strain against the plain white T-shirt beneath.

Lindsey ran her hand through her dark hair and glanced up toward the library. She smiled and waved when she spotted Emily.

Emily waved back. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Three p.m. The library didn’t close until six.
Oh Jesus, I’ll never make it another three hours
.

Emily took a quick run up and down the aisles as Lindsey mounted the front steps, to make certain they were alone.
At least it’s usually real slow this time of day
.

She was returning from the back stacks when the buzzer on the front door sounded. “Coming!” she hollered as she rounded the corner of the biographies rack.

Lindsey nearly ran into her coming from the other way. The reporter’s eyes were dark, the pupils huge. She looked ready to devour Emily. “Are we alone?” she breathed in a husky whisper that sent chills over Emily’s oversensitive skin.

Emily nodded.

They looked at each other only a millisecond before Lindsey leaned down to claim Emily’s lips in a hungry kiss that turned up the librarian’s burners from simmer to boiling in a flash.

“I don’t think you’re quite coming
yet
, Emily,” Lindsey whispered in her ear. “But I want to remedy that
real
soon.”

Lindsey took her by the arm without further ado and led Emily unresisting toward the very rear of the library, into a small alcove that housed the archived periodicals.

There was an oversized easy chair there, and Lindsey pushed Emily down into it.

That was fine with Emily, who was beginning to feel a little weak in the knees.

Lindsey stood before her in her tight black leather, and for the first time, Emily spotted the prominent bulge at Lindsey’s crotch.

“Oh my,” Emily sighed aloud, staring. She could feel a pool of moisture building between her legs. Her mouth went dry.

“So you’ve noticed my new toy.” Lindsey brought one hand down and brushed it lightly over the bulge. “Let’s just say its clever design, especially when combined with the vibrations from the bike, have made me incredibly horny.”

Emily swallowed hard as Lindsey leaned down over her, one hand on each of the chair’s ample armrests, until their faces were inches apart.

“I need you, Emily, and I can’t wait. Can you?”

In answer, Emily reached up and put one hand around Lindsey’s neck to pull her close. She nipped at Lindsey’s lower lip before opening her mouth and enticing Lindsey’s tongue with her own. When Lindsey eagerly complied, thrusting her tongue into Emily’s mouth, Emily sucked hard on it as she brought one hand up to brush against the bulge in Lindsey’s pants.

Lindsey moaned.

Emily did it again—another teasing brush against the bulge.

Lindsey broke the kiss and leaned in to straddle Emily in the big chair, one knee on either side of her, pressing her groin into Emily’s stomach, the cock stimulating her own clit until she was close to losing control.

Emily put her arms around Lindsey and pulled her even nearer, her hands caressing Lindsey’s ass through the buttery soft leather. “God, I’ve missed you, Lindsey.”

“Me too,” Lindsey grunted. “I’ve been dreaming about being inside you.”

Lindsey’s lips found Emily’s again as her hands found Emily’s breasts. She massaged them roughly through the soft cotton blouse, her fingers pinching the nipples until they became hard as pebbles.

“Clothes off,” Emily whispered in a shaky voice, reaching for the zipper of the leather pants.

The front door buzzer sounded and both women froze.

“Be right there!” Emily hollered, her voice a little breathless.

Lindsey jumped off her on shaky legs, but Emily had not yet had time to regain her feet before a voice answered from the front of the library.

“No need, Emily. Just dropping off the paper.”

“Thanks, Timmy!” Emily hollered back.

The two women remained frozen as they were for another few seconds until the buzzer sounded again, telling them the paperboy had departed the way he had come in.

Emily got halfway out of her seat—just far enough to reach the light switch on the wall, which turned off the small light in the alcove. Then she leaned forward and hooked two fingers into Lindsey’s belt loop and pulled her back to the chair.

“We’d better hurry,” she said, running her hand over the bulge. She opened her legs and pulled Lindsey to her, Lindsey’s crotch just below eye level. Her hands firmly caressed the leather pants and the body beneath, running up Lindsey’s thighs, back to her ass, then around to the front.

Lindsey tried to will Emily’s fingers toward the snap and zipper that would set her free.

But instead, Emily pulled Lindsey’s T-shirt out of her pants and reached beneath it. Her fingers traced a light path up Lindsey’s stomach to the bottom swell of her breast. She was wearing no bra, and when Emily discovered this and groaned—a sexy, low growl—Lindsey felt the sound as a warm hum between her legs.

Emily pushed up the T-shirt and pulled Lindsey’s right breast to her mouth. Her lips and teeth sucked and teased the nipple while her hand provided similar stimulation to its twin.

“Oh please, Emily,” Lindsey panted, looking down at her. “You’re making me crazy.”

Emily smiled as she reached for the clasp on the leather pants. Her lips were swollen, her face flushed. “That makes two of us,” she said, lowering the zipper. Her mouth resumed its oral adoration of Lindsey’s breast while her hand reached into the leather pants and closed around the cock, pulling it free of its confinement.

Lindsey shuddered as the harness sent a delicious friction along the length of her wet folds. “God, I’m so close already,” she gasped.

Emily’s lips left Lindsey’s breast, but she kept her hand on the phallus, stroking it lightly, provocatively, knowing Lindsey was watching her in the semidarkness. “Not yet, Lindsey. I want you to come when you’re deep inside me. Do you know how wet I am for you?”

“How wet?” Lindsey barely recognized her voice. She struggled to remain upright. Emily’s light touch on the cock was keeping her arousal at an almost painfully heightened pitch. It was excruciating. And wonderful.

“You tell me.” Emily’s hands left the phallus just long enough to unhook her jeans and pull down the zipper.