In Deep Waters: Cruising The Seas Part 5

Sweaty and tired, and off-duty for the rest of the night, I b.u.mped into Mel on the way to my cabin. She, too, had been herding women all day and looked as tired as I felt.

"Want to get dinner to go and eat somewhere far away from die guests?"

"Sure," I said easily. We did just that, too. Then, feeling like recalcitrant children, we snuck into the kitchen and helped ourselves to some of the savories and sweets prepared for the pastry extravaganza. I left with an admiring backward glance at beautiful, 3-D swans made from phyllo dough and glistening with sugar. A dozen multi-tiered cakes frosted in rainbow colors hadn't yet been cut. But the cinnamon and chocolate puff I'd swiped was light as a feather and filled with a rum-flavored custard-tasty enough to have me licking my fingers.

Mel had that look again as we leaned against the railing and watched the s.h.i.+p splitting the sea dozens of feet below us. "You can tell me to take a hike," she began.

I shrugged. "My girlfriend and I have an understanding."

"Which is?"

"I can be borrowed." If she was here, I didn't add, there wasn't a chance in h.e.l.l I'd want anyone else. But Tess wasn't here. So maybe for one night I could be the old Brandy.

Mel laughed. "I like that way of looking at it. I'm not the stealing sort. But I don't mind borrowing."

I pulled the bandeau off my hair and let the wind finish ruining it. The damp air only made it more curly, and tomorrow morning I'd have some serious work on it ahead of me.

"You're the first white girl I've ever seen with hair that kinky." Mel touched it briefly and then caressed my neck lightly.

My nipples tightened in response. The old Brandy was very close to the surface now, and I wondered what it would feel like to go down on Mel, what her c.u.n.t looked like and if she liked having every furl and ripple between her legs thoroughly explored. Or would she want it hard and fast? Was she a butch who liked to be fisted? Or was she stone and wanting to spend the night pleasuring me?

I shook suddenly with a feeling of being unleashed. I loved s.e.x and had always enjoyed a new partner. Exploring women, learning them, had for years been one of the highlights of my life. Women are simply the best. And here was one ready to play with me, more butch than any I'd ever been with, and I was quite certain there would be more than one new experience with her.

In the three years I had been with Tess we'd had our understanding about borrowing. Mostly it was a recognition that while we wanted to be all the other ever needed, if in some circ.u.mstances that just wasn't the case, talking about unmet needs and how they might be fulfilled was better than doing anything behind the other's back. Tess had been the one who pointed out, too, that expecting our bodies to never change and our self-knowledge to be static was unrealistic. Certainly her self-knowledge had evolved, and that was why she was with me and not a guy. I didn't expect her to never change. I did expect her to want me to be part of those changes.

Given that we worked and lived side-by-side, it wasn't surprising drat neither of us had taken advantage of the agreement. Any way that we might be changing, such as my unexpectedly strong hormonal drive that I still said I'd caught from her, we'd adapted to together. Here I was, however, eager to be with someone else. Thinking that the experience would be something to tell Tess about. Wondering if the telling would get us in the raunchy mood we both relished.

Mel pulled me into her embrace. The kiss was very nice and suggested that there could be real heat and real play. "I have a roommate," she said, "so if you'd like, we could go to your cabin."

"It would be a shame to waste it."

"I could pick up a few things from my cabin on the way."

I was about to suggest an extension cord, if she had one, when she cupped my face and kissed me again, harder this time. My skin was tingling as I leaned into her. All that muscle and strength was feeling very, very good to me.

One hand slipped under the waistband of my shorts, gripping my hip.

And I had the thought I could not ignore: Tess didn't touch me quite like that.

And then I realized the woman kissing me wasn't Tess. Of course she wasn't. I knew that. It was Mel. Who wasn't Tess.

She touched me, kissed me, and my body responded, no doubt about it. But my infernal brain kept thinking her fingers would move there, or her tongue would touch here, because that was how Tess touched me. Tess who knew my body now better than I did. Tess who possessed every key there was to me.

f.u.c.k a duck, I hate having a brain.

Mel let go of me and gave me a puzzled look. "Are you sure about this?"

"Actually, I'm not." Mel was very nice and I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but only the truth was going to suffice. "You'd just be a stand-in for my girlfriend. I'm sorry."

"I don't care. I get the feeling you're a really fun time."

"I think you probably are too. But ..." The truth was inescapable. "I love my girlfriend. And while parts of me want you, all of me is only going to be happy with her."

She took my refusal with good grace. I suggested there was plenty of time to cruise the folk singer's show or the late-night dance scene. She left me at the railing with a cheery smile, and I was fairly certain that the rest of the week wouldn't be awkward between us because of the last few minutes.

I was most of the way to my cabin when I realized I still needed an extension cord.

Fine, I thought, sitting on my bed, all alone. I was being a good girl. Kisses from Not Tess women were useless. I was an old married woman, settled down, constrained, giving up the happy life of soul-wrenching ecstasy through any and all means by which I could find it. And for what?

For a chick with long arms-I could hear Tess saying that to me clear as day in my head. I fell back on the bed, ruefully laughing. I gave up the footloose and fancy-free life for a woman who some nights could not get f.u.c.ked enough and all nights could not hold me enough. For a woman who was generous and kind, thoughtful and wise, hot as a firecracker and, frankly, smarter than I was.

I gave up nights with Not Tesses for breakfasts and brownies and tomorrows and hot s.e.x with Tess.

d.a.m.n, I wanted an extension cord.

The slam of a nearby cabin door brought me to my feet. Peering out into the corridor I summoned up my courage as the couple walked by my door. "I know this will sound weird, but do you have an extension cord I could borrow? I promise you'll have it back in an hour."

"Sorry, mate," the taller woman said as they paused.

Her cuddly girlfriend added, "We were sort of wis.h.i.+ng we'd brought one along ourselves."

"Batteries just don't-"

"Got that right, mate-"

"I would have brought one if we'd-"

We all blushed because we all knew exactly what we meant. They drifted toward the stairwell, and I heard someone approaching from the other direction.

"Hi," I said cheerfully. "Do you have an extension cord I could borrow for about an hour?"

"Sure," the little redhead said. "I was ironing something earlier, but now I'm all done."

Whatever floats your boat, I wanted to say. I had other plans. I thanked her profusely, promised its prompt return, but she told me not to bother until the next day. My vibrator and I could have a long date.

I skipped back to my cabin, plugged everything in, pulled back the covers and spread myself on the bed.

What I needed was a naughty, hot fantasy. The rock band party, there was a thought.

Muscles and tattoos, I mused, required a soft, pliable woman... perhaps one shared between the two musicians I'd encountered yesterday with Mel. They'd f.u.c.k her senseless, until her hair was in ruins, her body slicked with sweat, and she'd mewl with more need because the more she had, the more she wanted, and in my mind's eye, it was Tess wanting it like that, and there were no musicians, just me. Me and Tess, the way we'd been our first night together, and so many nights since.

A flick of my thumb brought the vibrator to life and the intensity of the sensation curled my toes into the bed. I knew I'd come, I always did with one and that was a very good reason to own one, I thought, but I didn't want to just come. I wanted the perfect moment in my head when I did.

My fingers going into Tess, feeling the quivering welcome of her luscious c.u.n.t, thick with want and the sound of my pus.h.i.+ng in twining with her rising moan. The perfect moment, f.u.c.k, oh... The first time I'd fisted her and she'd reacted nodding I'd ever felt before, oh... The last time she'd gone down on me, teasing me and teasing me, oh... The perfect moment, oh... The first kiss, die one after that, the last kiss, the next kiss when I got home, oh...

Oh. Oh, f.u.c.k.

There were so many perfect moments that about an hour later I selected a few more. In the morning, I mused sleepily afterward, I could have some more perfect moments before I had to give the extension cord back. There were so many to think about, so many that made my nerves jump, so many... all with Tess. And if I ran out of perfect moments, I could make more when I got home.

And then I slept, cradled against the pillow that was a poor subst.i.tute for Tess's shoulder.

Best Seats in the House Radclyffe "Have you ever been to an X-rated theater?" Chris Stanley whispered as she waited for the doors to the Sea Surge Video Lounge to open.

"This isn't an X-rated movie theater," her best friend Jacqui "Jac" Burns muttered back. "It's a film screening."

Chris snorted. "Yeah, of a p.o.r.n film."

"Erotica."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, I've been. Once or twice."

"No, I mean the real deal-Triple X on the marquee, raincoat in the lap, questionable substances on the floor ..." Chris grinned when Jac shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her black cargo pants and glowered. "Not one of those art-house soft focus, fade-to-black, pretend-s.e.x movies."

"I know what you mean. And yeah, I've been."

"Not with Trish," Chris said with absolute certainty. Trish was no prude, Chris knew, but she wasn't the type to frequent scrungy movie theaters on the wrong side of town, either. Trish was a lady, just like Chris's girlfriend Emily. Chris and Jac didn't talk about the details of their s.e.x lives-that would be disrespectful to their girlfriends-but she got the feeling Jac was getting it regular, just like she was. Emily never let her go without. Nope. Emily-cute, curvy, sweet-tasting Emily-never said no when Chris was in the mood for fast, hard f.u.c.king or slow, easy teasing, and even better, Emily never hesitated to jump Chris when she was h.o.r.n.y. Still, there was no way Emily, or Trish for that matter, would sit in a theater full of people getting off watching a dirty movie. Even if they were all women like tonight. "Trish would worry about getting something nasty on her shoes."

Jac smiled. "No. It wasn't with Trish."

"Who?"

"Tanika Phillips."

Chris flashed on the buff, black, Ail-American basketball player she and Jac had gone to college with, and she experienced a totally unexpected surge of jealousy. "Uh, I... uh... never realized you and Tan ever dated."

Jac looked at her like she'd grown two heads. "We didn't date. We were buds. We hung out together. You know she's not my type." Jac grinned. "I like my women rounder and curvier and... you know, softer."

"Sure, just like I do," Chris said. Which was true. Well, most of the time. Every now and then she'd look at some hard-bodied dude with a swagger and feel a twinge in her c.l.i.t. But she didn't think about that too much. "So, uh, you and Tan never ... got it on?"

The lounge in front of the theater was starting to fill up, and Jac s.h.i.+fted closer to Chris as the crowd pressed around them. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Chris's c.l.i.t jumped as she pictured Jac and Tan in a hot, sweaty embrace. Tight muscles straining, the two of them rolling around, fighting for the top position. She'd seen Jac naked in the gym plenty of times, so she didn't have any trouble envisioning her small firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s and tight pink nipples and long flat belly. She felt her c.l.i.t thickening and tried to think of something else. "What does that mean? Exactly?"

"Well, sometimes we'd jerk off together afterward," Jac said in a low voice.

"You and Tan?" Chris was unable to keep the awe from her voice. "You jerked each other off?"

"Not each other, you twit." Jac shook her head and grinned, then tousled Chris's hair. "We just watched each other do it."

"Oh, right." Chris tried to sound nonchalant. She'd never jerked off in front of anyone except Emily, and even then, she usually got so self-conscious she couldn't come. She didn't have any trouble doing it when she was alone, thinking about Emily or sometimes . . . sometimes another face, another body, would fill her mind just before her c.l.i.t exploded.

"Where?" Chris asked.

"Huh?"

"Where did you do it?" Chris got a flash of Tan and Jac shoulder to shoulder on a couch, their legs rubbing, groaning quietly while they... Her c.l.i.t went thump thump and she banished the images. Jesus. What was wrong with her tonight?

"Where? Oh... in Tan's car, or sometimes in the alley out behind the bar. Remember that place?" Jac asked, fond nostalgia in her voice.

Chris nodded. They'd had some wild times, back before they got serious with their girlfriends. "Couldn't keep a lid on, huh?"

Jac laughed. "I might have been able to cool it, but when Tan had to get off there was no stopping her. And she liked company. Some nights I could hardly keep up."

The pictures were back-Tan and Jac leaning against the brick wall, heads back, eyes half-closed, hips dancing as they worked off their c.l.i.ts. Hoping to keep any more images out of her head, Chris scanned the crowd. Not far away she caught sight of a couple who had just joined the others waiting for the eight o'clock show. Both hot, both to her liking, in totally opposite ways. The taller one in the tight black leather pants reminded her of Jac-thick midnight hair, rangy build, slim hips-and she was packing and didn't care who knew it. The bulge behind her fly hung down like a sausage on the inside of her left leg. She had her arm draped over the shoulders of a smaller blonde in a short, short leather skirt and one of those satin corset-y things that pushed her t.i.ts up and made them look like they'd fall out if she took a deep breath. The blond femme seemed to like the package too, because every now and then she'd reach down and give her girlfriend's crotch a squeeze and a little jiggle.

"Jesus," Chris whispered. "Talk about getting some hand action."

"What?" Jac asked. "Where?"

"Over to your right. Some girl is jerking her girlfriend off in line."

Jac gave a lithe start and slowly turned. "Yeah. Sweet."

At that moment, the blonde caught them watching and smiled, the tip of her tongue snaking out to slick across her lush red lower lip. The muscles in her surprisingly buff arm tightened and she pumped a little harder. The girlfriend bucked her hips and closed her eyes for a second.

Chris hissed in a breath as the blonde's eyes brightened and slid down over Chris's body, lingering on her crotch. "We're busted."

"Yeah," Jac muttered, looking away. "And I'm hard as h.e.l.l now too."

"Me too." Chris tried not to s.h.i.+ver as her c.l.i.t twitched and she creamed in her jeans. The rough denim chafed her c.l.i.t, and she regretted her decision not to wear underwear. "Hey, they're letting us in. d.a.m.n, we're gonna miss the rest of the floor show out here."

"Something tells me it's going to be a long, hard night."

Jac grinned and Chris laughed. As they moved toward the open double doors, Jac's upper arm and shoulder rubbed lightly against Chris's. It felt nice. Comfortable, but a little exciting too. A night out with Jac was always fun.

Jac stepped off to one side just inside the rectangular room. "Whoa."

"Whoa and how," Chris said, surveying the sofas and plush chairs arranged in semi-circular tiers in front of a large screen on the far wall. The whole arrangement looked oddly intimate. "No wonder we had to make reservations. This doesn't look like any theater I've ever seen."

"Must be why they said 'special viewing for the discerning audience.' I wondered what that meant."

"I don't know, what do you think?" Chris felt a little uneasy as women, some in pairs, others in groups, and some alone, filed past them. "Maybe we should catch up to Emily and Trish."

"At a fas.h.i.+on show?" Jac's voice rose, and her face suffused with horror. "Please." She grabbed Chris's s.h.i.+rt sleeve and pointed toward the far right side of the room. "Let's grab that couch up there in the corner. We'll be able to see okay, and if we don't like the movie, we can always sneak out to the bar."

"Okay." Chris threaded her way through the low tables scattered between the sofas and chairs to the second level and settled onto a short sofa next to Jac. Then she leaned back, her thigh just touching Jac's, and checked out the immediate area. "Catch who's down in front of us."

On the floor level to their left and perhaps ten feet away, the blonde and her girlfriend settled into a similar loveseat. The blonde immediately kicked her shoes off and curled her legs up on the sofa, snuggling into her girlfriend's left side. She glanced up and smiled at Chris and Jac.

"Busted again," Chris murmured, not looking away.

"Doesn't seem like she minds."

Within minutes, the doors at the back of the room closed and the lights went down, but not into total blackness the way Chris expected. Wall sconces provided enough light for her to see the people around her clearly, including the blonde and her girlfriend. She was determined not to watch them and focused on the screen. Next to her, Jac stretched her longer legs out in front of her and draped one arm along the top of the sofa behind Chris's back. The other hand she rested in her lap.

It wasn't an art-house film. Ten minutes in and the two main characters, hot chicks with tattoos and piercings in interesting places, arrived at a s.e.x party. The camera panned from room to room, displaying a dizzying array of naked flesh and l.u.s.t-filled faces. The quick cuts and crazy angles made Chris's head swim. The teasing, fleering images of bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s and glistening c.u.n.ts and o.r.g.a.s.mic expressions made her already stiff c.l.i.t throb.