Ch. 2 - Desserts
The party hadn't been intended to be legion. Lauren had told me that the seed had been Mika's offer to share ideas with a twelve-year-old potential student. Mika had never taught before, but had felt a determination within the young girl that reminded her of her own. Then one step had led to another, until Mika had resolved to revisit, with Lauren's help, work that she'd hidden for years. Work she'd created after the death of her wife. Showing this to her friends would help her know if she would be willing to present it publicly.
And so the party had grown to include others who'd shown an interest. Enough to overflow her house into the much larger garden, the area we three called the meadow. We all hoped that the weather would remain dry, and the temperatures would reach the fifties.
In the late morning, I helped Lauren prepare. For so many people, Mika had hired a caterer, who would be taking over the kitchen. Lauren and I were hiding the countertop items to leave as much space as possible for them, while Mika spent time with young Zoe and her family. I spent some of my time ferrying drinks to them. Tea for Mika, coffee for Zoe's parents, Erin and Faye, chocolate milk for Maeve, her little sister, and orange juice for Zoe, who wanted Coke. She told me in a very serious tone that "Sugar highs are a myth. Kids don't get hyper from sugary drinks."
Erin gave her daughter a slightly exasperated look. "That may be, but caffeine is not a myth."
"I could have Sprite?" Zoe suggested, as if she'd prepared for this negotiating tactic.
Her mother shook her head. "You can have a Sprite - one Sprite - when Maeve goes down for a nap. Speaking of which..." she turned her eyes to me. "I think Conor's ready to fade." Their youngest, a toddler, had been stomping around the room, but was now leaning against Erin, his eyes half closed. "Is it okay if I take him to your place now?"
"Of course," I said. We'd set up his portable crib in my living room, with a nap mat for Maeve, who currently showed no signs of being sleepy. I walked Erin to my place, drawing the curtains for privacy once inside, so she could feed her young son. Magpie and Raven watched the small person suspiciously. I had asked if they wanted the cats confined, but they said not, and it was true that they would make more noise if they were closed out of their favorite room.
Back in the house, Zoe and her other mom were studying her drawings. Mika's appreciation of the young girl's ability was clearly not feigned, and she was engrossed. I left them alone and headed back to the kitchen. The adult component of the party wouldn't arrive until mid-afternoon, and it seemed everything was well in hand.
"How's she feeling about this afternoon?" I asked. Lauren would know I meant her fiancée.
"Good, I think," my friend said, thoughtfully. "Sometimes it's hard to be sure. You know how nervous she can get. I was sure she was going to stress out over showing her paintings - these paintings, at least - and I think she was, too, but as we've looked at each storage rack she's seemed to come alive. As if she was expecting to be dragged down, but is feeling uplifted. I just have a worry that it might be, like, a phase. Not exactly manic, but like she's forcing herself to be upbeat, and might crash."
"Has that happened lately?" I asked. Lauren had told me of the time before I'd moved in, when she became overwhelmed with guilt over moving on from Nicole, her late wife.
"No, she hasn't, but this is a big deal. I'm here for her, when she needs me."
"I'm here for you, too, if that happens."
Lauren took my hand and squeezed gently. "I know, Mandy. I really appreciate you."
She didn't drop my hand. There was nothing romantic in the gesture. We'd taken our shot over a decade ago, and we were far better as friends than lovers, remaining close. If I felt jealous of her relationship with Mika from time to time it wasn't because of who they were, but what they had together. I would never have another partner. I had no need for one, but seeing my friends so wrapped up in each other was bittersweet.
As if deliberately pouring cold water on my musing, Lauren said, "Rachel will be here soon."
I withdrew my hand from Lauren's in surprise. "Why? She doesn't know these people, does she?"
Lauren laughed. "She met them at the exhibition, after you'd made your dramatic undramatic exit," she said. "You hardly got to see them!"
"I didn't think this would be her thing," I objected.
"What is it with you and Rachel?" Lauren asked. "I thought you and she had kissed and made up. You know she likes you."
"No, she doesn't," I said. Yes, we'd kissed and... avoided hostilities, at least, but the rest? No. We were both committed to not being in a relationship, and I was going to be in a world of hurt if I did something stupid like fall for her.
"Oh, come on," Lauren insisted. "I've seen her around you."
"She likes what we do together," I said, with a sigh. "So do I. We do it very well. Chemistry, she says. But she doesn't like me in particular. She isn't wired that way."
Lauren's pitying look made me uncomfortable, but what could I say? "I'm not going to get my heart broken for your misguided matchmaking experiment?" Lauren didn't deserve my rudeness. So I just shrugged and poured us both another coffee.
When Rachel appeared a few minutes later, bottle of white wine in hand, she was dressed much like she had been on the first day I'd brought her home. She wore an open jacket, showing a green crop top that was tight enough to reveal the weave of her bra, and skintight blue capri pants thin enough to show her panty line.
"Thanks, hon," Lauren said, giving her a quick hug, then taking the wine. "You know that Mika has wine for everyone, though?"
Rachel shrugged. "I figured I'd bring a bottle for the three of us before the party starts."
"Well, then, let's do something about that," Lauren said, thrusting the bottle at me before turning to find glasses and an opener.
The wine was surprisingly cold. Rachel must have either just picked it up from the chilled section of a liquor store, or kept it in her fridge at home. The label identified it as an Oregon Pinot Gris, and after Lauren had opened and poured, I had to admit it was a good find.
Rachel gave me a sly wink. It was a very strange motion - her eyelid slid closed then opened without, apparently, any facial muscles being involved. "You doubted me? One day you'll learn."
She leaned on the counter, between Lauren and me.
"So, you were at Mika's show, and now you're here," I said. "Are you an art fan? Or supporting friends?"
Rachel's sharply-penciled eyebrows dipped in consideration. "Some of the second, certainly. Not even supporting, really, just spending time with them. Art is... look, I don't know anything about it, but some of the pictures at the show, they gave me a strange feeling. Like, I don't even know what I was feeling, but I couldn't stop looking at them."
I grinned. "Seems we have something in common. I had plenty of feels, but the only ones I think I could identify were some of the couples shots, and those photos of the two women with a glass of wine. Those made me feel both sappy-happy and jealous, because what they were clearly feeling isn't in my wheelhouse. I was married to Charlotte for three years, and if either of us had ever looked at the other like that we'd probably still be together."
Rachel turned to stare at me in shock. "You were married?"
"Well, yeah, I thought you knew. Lauren was my rock, even if it was on the other end of the phone line."
"We never talked about it," said Lauren. Come to think of it, Lauren had told me that she didn't know Rachel well before she'd hit on her, high on ecstasy. They hadn't become friends until later, when I was around.
"Then yeah, I was married and living in Colorado. When our divorce was finalized, I had a lead on a job here, and called Lauren looking for help to find a place to stay, which led to her answering Mika's ad. So if it hadn't been for me..."
"Lauren and Mika wouldn't be together?" Rachel said. "I hope you're taking every advantage of the debt she owes you."
Lauren snorted.
We ate pizza before relinquishing the kitchen to Mika's caterers. Faye took the second youngest of the clan, Maeve, to take her nap, just before the guests began to gather. I knew none of them, which, yes, my fault, since I'd have met them if I hadn't fled from Rachel. Lauren introduced me, but even she needed some reminders.
A curvy brunette named Tiff seemed to think that she was in charge of the group, though most of them ignored or traded insults with her. I envied the closeness they all shared.
After a couple of servings of wine and plenty of finger food, Tiff decided that it was time to tour the art - if Mika was ready for them. This idea found more takers than most of hers, and soon about half the party had drifted toward the house with Mika, while I was talking with two recent arrivals. Zoe's aunts had come to look after the younger kids so that Faye and Erin could spend more time together. Eventually, the tall redhead, Nyssa, decided to relieve Faye, so I led her to the fairy cottage and stood with her partner Hannah until Faye emerged.
Most of the party left the house, eventually. Mika had stayed inside, presumably to talk more about the images. Some of the women looked a little stunned. Zoe in particular seemed upset, but cheered up when she saw her Auntie Hannah. Rachel returned, frowning, but had nothing to say when I asked what she'd seen. She just said it was interesting.
I was sitting with her, drinking another glass of wine, when a shadow alerted me to someone standing before me. I looked up to find Austin, a slender guy with a huge smile on his face. Standing, I freed myself from the lawn chair and took his hand.
"My exiled fairy!" he announced. "Mandy, right?"
"Right!" I said. "Hi Austin!" I turned to the blonde girl standing beside him. "Hey, Dylan! Great to see you both." I released Austin's hand to take his girlfriend's.
Rachel had stood with me. "This is my... friend," I said. "Rachel Turner." The pause hadn't been deliberate, and I did think of her as a friend, but sometimes I still found myself surprised at that.
Austin frowned. "Rachel?" He held out a hand to her, but I could see his confusion.
"Yeah, yeah," I said. "That Rachel. The one I was hiding from when I met the two of you."
She'd clasped hands with both of them, and was releasing Dylan's as I finished introducing her.
"I'm glad you both came," I said. "I've run out of mind space for more names, and you're the only ones I've met before, except for Lauren and Mika. I recognize some of the others from Mika's photos, but I haven't met them."
"Since she was putting all of her energy into avoiding me," Rachel added, quite unnecessarily.
"See how well that worked," I said. Dylan laughed, a little nervously.
"I'm looking forward to seeing these mystery works," Austin said. "I do want to talk to Mika about them. Is she around?"
"I think she's inside," I said. "Let me show you all around. I can cover for her until we find her. I helped set everything up."
Austin and Dylan both nodded, so I led them into the house, Rachel following.
We'd set up two rooms with storage racks. The living room held paintings and photos, on canvas and board, each on its own vertical tray. The photos were mostly black and white, some tinted, and even included wedding photos where Mika had clearly found subjects and settings that the client wouldn't have wanted in their package. The overall atmosphere was bleak.
"Mika said this was her recovery phase, after she started working on the bust of Nicole. You saw that at her show, right?"
Dylan and Austin both nodded. Mika had started working on the sculpture of her wife a year after the accident that had taken her life. It had brought her enough of a sense of purpose that she could function again, though it had taken Lauren to coax her back to life.
"The other room is what came before. Those are the ones she's been reluctant to let anyone see. I'll take you through when you're ready."
They both seemed more somber when I led them to Mika's equipment room. She'd replaced furniture and camera gear with more of the storage racks. There were a few canvases, but most of the paintings were on hardboard or plywood. Some were unfinished, some had been partially obliterated with paint, and there were at least two that had physical damage. I assume Mika included them to show her state of mind at the time. Or maybe she considered the damage part of the work. I didn't know. I wasn't an artist, and couldn't think like one.
As grim as the work was, Austin was fascinated by it all, but after one particular set of paintings his face seemed to drain of color. I moved to stand beside him to see what he was looking at.
The paintings all had a similar theme. A slender naked woman was looking into a large mirror. Her position was different in each painting. In one she stood demurely with her hands behind her back, in another one hand was gripping the frame of the mirror, with similar changes in different works.
In each, the girl had long, untidy, red hair hiding her butt. The mirror and wall varied slightly from painting to painting, but each formed a conventional scene. It was what looked back from the scene that changed. In one, the reflected girl had no face. In another, the image was mostly black except for an oily sheen, but the iridescent color had been sculpted with tools to hint at Lovecraftian horrors. In the one I found the most disturbing, the girl looked out of the mirror, naked, small breasts and full bush in full view, her bones glowing through her skin with a sickly yellow light.
The features along with the model's build made it clear that each was a self-portrait, though I'd never seen Mika with long red hair.
"Jesus," Austin breathed. "I should give up right now."
"What do you mean?" His girlfriend's tone was sharp.
"I like to think I'm a good portrait artist, but I could never approach this. Even within the horror and tragedy, each portrait says so much about what's inside her."
"Would you even call them portraits?" I asked.
"Oh yeah, they're self-portraits," he said. "Now I really need to talk to her."
They continued to explore, while I returned to browsing independently. Rachel stood beside me, examining the paintings I studied, sometimes glancing up at me, seeming concerned. I'd found a number of abstracts, bright colors on black, but the colors had been kept entirely separate, and had geometrical edges. In some, the color seemed to have been separated from other patches by a knife. The cuts weren't even subtle.
Suddenly, I couldn't stay in the room. I slammed the storage tray closed and stalked out.
In the garden, I took a glass, filled it with wine that I immediately knocked back, then topped it up again and moved away from the group to stare at one of Mika's flower beds. She'd planted azaleas here. Their leaves were a rich green. Last year the flowers had been spectacular, and I was sure they would be again.
"Are you okay, babe?"
Rachel's voice was surprisingly soft from behind my shoulder. I didn't turn. I didn't want her to see my face. I didn't want anyone to see my face.
"Yeah," I lied. "Yeah. I... will be."
She was silent for a moment, then I felt her move closer. Long fingers pressed a tissue into my hand. "I have more, if you need," she said, drawing back.
"Thanks," I said. I hadn't cried, but my eyes had teared up, and the tissue was sufficient to ensure they wouldn't leak.
She was silent for another half a minute before saying, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know," I said. "The painting. It just reminded me of how isolated I feel, I think. I couldn't be around it."
I turned around. Rachel was closer than I'd thought. In my personal space. I stepped backward, but there wasn't room to move more than a couple of inches. Some of the women at the party were glancing at me. Unsurprising, I guess, since they'd seen me swallow a glass of wine like a shot, then take another away.
Rachel's eyes were sympathetic. There was no trace of her usual sardonic expression. Her face held only concern, and my perspective abruptly changed. Suddenly she wasn't intruding on my space, she was standing between me and the rest of the world. She was my champion against whatever had just knocked me to the ground.
I felt tears start to well up again, but I didn't let them free. I patted my eyes one more time with the tissue, then looked up at Rachel. I didn't feel any need to force a smile.
She turned to stand beside me, still slightly in front, as if shielding me. "Would you like to talk in the cottage?" she asked, softly. "I see the kids are up from their naps."
"Okay," I said. "Yeah, I think I would."
Rachel took my glass from me. "I'll see you there," she said, freeing me to avoid interacting with anyone.
A moment after I sat down, the French door opened. Rachel entered with refilled glasses, sitting beside me on the loveseat. It faced the door, and we looked out on the party. She didn't push, waiting for me to say what I needed.
"I have had a whole collection of fucked up relationships," I said at last, "starting with Lauren."
Rachel's eyebrows rose at that, and she turned to look at me.
"That one wasn't our fault, at least. Her evil parents kicked her onto the street when she came out. Her older brother... well, that's her story. My parents took her in, but they were bigots, too, just ones who thought it was wrong to leave a young girl to live on the streets, even if she was a sinner. Hate the sin, love the sinner. That kind."
Rachel winced and nodded.
"So they implemented strict rules, because they didn't want my wicked lesbian friend to prey on me. They didn't know we were already in love. I hadn't come out then. But after forcing ourselves to be on our best behavior for months, the stress drove us apart. Or, let's say, it forced us to see each other clearly, and realize we weren't right for each other. We became best friends, eventually, so that part of our parents' hatefulness left something good, but it's like it set a pattern for my dating life."
"How is that?" Rachel asked, softly.
"There were the usual college dating disasters. Cheating, fighting, deciding she wasn't bi after all and didn't want to be with a girl, the usual problems. But somehow I kept running into the same issues after college. My last girlfriend before Charlotte was Sabrina. She was a radical vegetarian. She seemed sane enough at first, even said it was okay if I wasn't vegetarian, but it got crazy. I couldn't eat meat at home, which, I guess, fair enough. But if I did eat meat outside the apartment I'd get the standard lecture on animal rights and destroying the planet and cows are people, too. And then she decided she couldn't go down on me if I'd eaten meat in the last three months. By the time I called it quits, sex was long gone."
"Damn," said Rachel. "But she wasn't the one you married, right? That was Charlotte?"
My throat tightened as I nodded. "Yeah, and that's the pride of my collection. I was feeling depressed after so many failures. I was the common factor. I wasn't going to find anyone I could connect with. I was having plenty of sex, I wasn't unpopular, and I decided it was better that way. Romance wasn't in my cards.
"Then I met Charlotte, and I fell hard. We were only together a year before we got married. I didn't need more time than that. She was my person.
"Then, three years after the wedding, a client meeting fell through and I decided to get coffee and a cookie at home before heading to the office."
"Oh, God, I know where this is going," Rachel said.
"Go ahead," I said, with a grimace.
"You caught your wife in flagrante delicto."
"It's so clichéd, right?" I said, wearily. "I've thought about that day too many times. She doesn't deserve so much of my attention. I heard a bumping, followed it to the bedroom. There was a moan coming from inside. God, I was so slow, looking back. We'd made love in the morning before I left for the client's office, so of course I thought Charlotte was reliving the experience. The idea brought me so much joy, I wanted to share. So I opened the door quietly to watch.
"My friend Kylee was the one moaning. She was on her back, with her legs wrapped around Charlotte. Neither of them saw me, they were too far gone. The only reason Kylee's moans hadn't been audible from the front door was that Charlotte was kissing her senseless. I snapped a couple of photos on my phone so they couldn't deny it and got the fuck out."
Rachel reached out to squeeze my upper arm, then withdrew her hand, giving me distance. "I'm sorry," she said.
I sighed. "It's okay. It's been a couple of years. Just one more in the collection," I said. "So after the divorce I came here. I swore off ever falling for another woman. Found a job that was a nice upgrade, then moved, with Lauren's help. I landed in the perfect place. Everything's going so well, but today I met Erin and Faye and they're about our age." I gave Rachel a rueful glance. "Well, my age. And they've been together for years. They have a twelve-year-old daughter, for God's sake, while my person doesn't exist. So I guess I started feeling sorry for myself. And I saw the painting, and it's like all of my different lives, each one cut off as I failed. I don't want to fail again."
That was the point I couldn't keep my tears back. They started running down my face even before I began to cry. Rachel immediately opened her purse, took out her small pack of tissues, and pressed them into my hand.
"God, I'm sorry," I said. "I'm such a mess."
"You're fine," she said. Diffidently, she added, "May I hug you?"
I almost laughed. It seemed so out of character. Instead, I said, "Yes, please."
She wrapped her arms around me, and it might have been the first time I'd felt comfortable in her presence. Not that I hadn't been delighted to be with her on other occasions, but when we weren't engaged in that kind of activity I'd always been on edge or excited. I rested my head on her shoulder and curled my arms around her waist. "Thank you," I said.
"You're welcome, babe," she said. "Don't worry about crying on me. Everything I'm wearing is washable."
I laughed against her shoulder. "Thank you, but I'm feeling better already. Hugs are good medicine."
"Not something I'm known for," she said, "but it seemed like you needed it, and I'm happy to help."
"Thanks again," I said. "I'm sorry for unloading all that crap on you. I don't think I've ever shared it with anyone but Lauren. I feel like I'm safe with you, and isn't that a weird turnabout? Since you don't do relationships, there's nothing for me to fuck up. Nothing to jeopardize."
I felt her shift a little, but she said nothing. I held onto her for a couple of minutes longer, then drew back and picked up my wine. "I hope I haven't made this weird."
"I offered," Rachel said. "Sometimes it takes another person listening for you to realize you're strong enough to survive. That's not weird."
"Yeah."
"Oh. This may help, too." She opened her purse and took out a tube. "Aromatherapy hand cream. Great for stress."
I took the hand cream, opened it, and took a sniff. The scent was lavender, with something woodsy. Cedar, maybe, and citrus. I capped the tube and returned it. The delicate scent that surrounded me was very pleasant, and yes, it was relaxing.
"I mostly keep that for my boss," she said. "Her meetings can be tense. And long."
"Haven't you told her you have skills that could relieve her stress?"
Rachel grinned. "You know she's not interested in those skills. Maybe she'd want a massage? You think I should start carrying massage oils?"
"Maybe, but you should try your techniques on me, first. Then you'll know how tension-relieving they are." I leaned closer to her, letting our arms touch. "I imagine she doesn't often break down in tears, though."
Rachel shrugged, making the hairs on my arm prickle. "I see her at work. I have no idea what she's like away from the office. I support her in other ways. I carry extra tissues for her. Keeping extra tampons, pens, breath mints and eyeliner isn't in my job description, but she's taken them all from time to time, especially if I'm with her out of the office."
"And massage oils. I'll write you a referral for your massage skills, if you like."
"You have no idea if I have any massage skills," Rachel objected.
"Obviously, this would be after you've proven yourself to me."
Rachel had set her purse back on the floor. "You sound more cheerful than you were."
"I am," I said. Sliding my fingers around her chin, I turned her toward me, then touched my lips to hers. It wasn't an entirely chaste kiss, it was very light, but I waited until her lips parted and I could stroke her tongue with mine before drawing back.
My action had surprised Rachel. Her cheeks seemed a little pink. "What was that for?"
"To thank you," I said. "I really appreciate you. I thought you should know that."
She smiled. "You can thank me again, if you like."
I would have done, but I saw someone approaching the French doors. Zoe's aunt Nyssa knocked, Hannah following in her wake. Rachel pre-empted me and rose to open the door for her.
"Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting, but we're taking the kids. Is it okay if I collect our stuff?"
"Of course," I said.
Nyssa folded the crib, while Hannah took the mat. Curious Magpie tried to examine Nyssa's work, then started purring as Nyssa took a break to pet her.
Before they left, Nyssa glanced between Rachel and myself. I thought for a moment that she must have seen what we were doing before she knocked, but her question caught me off-guard. "Hey, do either of you play softball?"
"Nyss!" yelped Hannah. "You can't recruit everyone!"
"Hey, it's your people who twisted my arm!" she replied.
Hanna grabbed her arm and tried to drag her out of my living room, but Nyssa planted her feet. "I coach softball for Hannah's church. We could use some support in the outfield. You don't have to be a member - I'm not - but they're truly a great group of girls." She glanced with amusement at Hannah. "The boss says I have to leave, but if you're interested, Lauren has our number."
I grinned as Nyssa finally acquiesced to "the boss" and left through the French doors. I saw other partygoers collecting their things, too, though far from everyone.
"A great group of girls, she says," I said to Rachel. "A women's softball team is its own trope. I might even be tempted if not for the other word."
"Church?" Rachel asked.
"Church," I agreed.
"You were about to thank me again," Rachel said.
"I was, was I?" I grinned at her. "I don't recall agreeing to that, but if it makes you happy..."
I moved in close, then kissed Rachel in the same way, with a gentle touch of my lips to hers, drawing after touching my tongue to hers for just a moment, surprised to find how dark her eyes had become. Surely this was nothing for high-energy Rachel, who wanted her boss to bend her over her desk and dominate her. The idea intrigued me so much that I leaned forward for a third kiss, her breathing rapid against my skin.
Backing away only a couple of inches, I held her gaze. Her lips were parted as we studied each other. Then a hand slipped around the back of my neck and urged me back toward her.
This fourth kiss was still tender, with only a little tongue, but it lasted about a minute, after which I was also breathing heavily. When we both leaned back against the loveseat, Rachel smirked, then whispered, "You're welcome."
I leaned against Rachel, which she didn't seem to mind, and we sat in silence for several minutes, observing the slowly dwindling crowd on the grass outside the French doors. I was going to have to deal with what I saw as my failures, but not today. Today I still had the support of this surprising woman who enjoyed enthusiastic casual sex, yet who was aroused by a gentle kiss.
"Hey, Rachel?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"Look, I know you're not " - making airquotes - "my person, and I know you didn't come here for this, but I would really like for you to be naked and in my bed right now."
Rachel's eyes darkened and her lips curled up, but she didn't say a word before taking my face in her hands, pressing her parted lips to mine, then retreating slowly, her tongue stroking my tongue and lips as her face moved away. Before I could think to react, she'd done the same again, then again. Each brief kiss was intense, and my heart was racing when she stood, reaching down for my hand.
She led me unerringly to my bedroom. I pushed the door closed behind us, then turned her to face me and pressed my lips to hers. While we both moaned, I lifted her shirt, working it up her body, allowing me to caress her sides and back. The shirt was every bit as tight as it appeared. I had to draw it back down again to straighten it before lifting it over her head. As she was wriggling out of it, I was already unbuttoning her pants, which proved much easier to slide down, leaving her in a tan bra and black panties, whose outline I'd noticed earlier.
Rachel wouldn't allow me to take the activity any further until she'd stripped me to my bra and panties. Rather than continuing to undress her, I pushed her onto her back and kissed her thighs. She was moaning softly when I kissed the crease of each thigh. She shoved a pillow behind her head, propping it up to watch me as I moved my lips to the base of her stomach, just above her panty line.
When I stroked the side of her panties with my thumbs she reached out to caress my hair, and her face took on the flush of arousal, lips parted.
Crawling up her body I kissed the bottom of her rib cage, drawing my teeth over individual ribs. I moved both hands to her bra, thumbing her nipples. "Christ, babe," she groaned. "You're killing me."
Maybe because I was taking so long with what I was doing, Rachel reached behind her, and a moment later was drawing her bra straps down her arms, revealing her gorgeous breasts, sharp-sided as mountain peaks.
I kissed just below and between them. As I did, I grasped the waistband of her panties in both hands, tugging it upward and shaking it rapidly, so that the tight fabric jerked against her sex. She cried out, her hips rising from the bed. "Fuuck..." she breathed.
"Did you like that?" I asked, before closing my mouth on her right nipple.
"I like it all, Mandy," she groaned. "You're fucking amazing."
I grinned before switching to her left breast. As I suckled I stretched her panties against her again. She writhed against me, then as I kept kissing her nipple she began to roll her hips, her body undulating against me as she moaned.
Moving to the side of her body, I studied her. She was lovely. Her lips had puffed out in a pout when I'd moved off her, but as I slowly kissed them, she wrapped an arm around my head, holding my face to hers.
Content just to kiss her for a time, I curled my fingers over her belly. The sounds of pleasure she made were soft and long.
I moved my fingertips from Rachel's belly over her hips, then under her thighs. I pushed up on the underside of her closer thigh, and she raised her leg, allowing me to reach her pussy. As we kissed, I felt around for her entrance, pushing her panties aside, then plunging two fingers into her.
It lit a fuse within Rachel. She began to cry into the kiss, her body bouncing against the bed, sex thrusting against my fingers. The pitch of her cries rose, then suddenly stopped as her body tensed, before her sex clamped my fingers, and she was coming, making long, desperate sounds into my mouth.
"My God, Mandy," she breathed, as I finally released her. "You really are amazing." She panted softly. "But you're still not naked. I plan to rip the rest of your clothes off... just as soon as my soul returns to my body."
"That's usually how you make me feel," I said, with a laugh. "Allow me to help." I unclasped my bra, slid it down my arms, then shoved a nipple against her lips as I lay down. She chuckled, then closed her mouth on the nipple, her eyes on mine.
Rolling me onto my back, she kissed both breasts enthusiastically, then my lips briefly, before sliding down my body, taking my panties with her as she moved, then pulling off her own, leaving us both naked. She kissed my navel and the crease of my thighs, then continued down to kiss my inner thighs, then all the way down to my ankle and back. Occasionally she'd take a break to suckle my breasts, but what she did not do was let her lips get close to my pussy lips or clit. I could feel them swelling, aching with need, but Rachel tormented me by not relieving the pressure. I lost track of time in my haze of lust, so I had no clue how long she'd been torturing me.
Toward the end of the time, I began to beg:
"Rachel, please... I can't take this... Rachel, baby, I need you."
I didn't realize that last was going to pass my lips until it did, but in my defense, thinking clearly had ended minutes earlier.
When I felt her tongue touch the close-cropped fur of my sex, I moaned in relief, but my ordeal wasn't done quite yet. Fingers slid into me, curling and rocking, and her tongue glided along my clit, but she still wouldn't let me come. I'd feel like I was finally close, but Rachel would slow down, taking her tongue away, and I'd clamp my thighs around her fingers, but it wouldn't be enough.
"Rachel, babe, let me come... please let me come, babe... Rachel... I need to come..."
Finally, she whispered, "Okay, babe," then drove me higher, her fingers plunging, her tongue unrelenting, until I yelled her name in pleasure, the intensity of my climax blanking my senses for a moment.
She didn't give me time to recover. When I could finally open my eyes, I found that Rachel had lowered my legs to the bed, moved to my side, parted my pussy with her fingers, and was leaning down over my hip, lapping sideways at my clit. My next orgasm crashed into me with all of the force of the first.
Rachel tried to continue, but it was too much. I pushed her head. "No..." I croaked. "Too..."
"Too sensitive?" she asked, and I nodded.
"Okay," she said, moving from my side, but not backing away. She raised my right leg, and began to nibble the underside of my thigh. I cried out. The sensation was almost intolerable, but not quite, and that not quite was soon fueling another climb.
Rachel took it a little more slowly, but I knew I was close when my phone started to ring. It took great will for me to form the words, "Touch that and die," but Rachel burst out laughing which made me squirm.
"Okay, no more..." I groaned after I'd come again. "I really can't."
Rachel's expression told me she thought I really could, but this time she'd let it pass. She dropped onto me, and we rolled around as we kissed.
My breathing was almost normal when she rolled off me. I took her hand, threading my fingers into hers. "Girl..." I breathed.
"I know," she said. "Chemistry. I told you."
"Yeah," I said, then reached for my phone. The call had been from Lauren. I showed the screen to Rachel. When I hovered my thumb over the call button, she nodded.
"Hi, Mandy," Lauren's voice answered the call.
"Hey," I said, my voice a little squeaky as I tried to hide how out of breath and aroused I was. "Sorry I couldn't get to the phone."
"Everyone's gone, there's wine and dessert left over. Do you want to join us in the meadow?"
"Sure," I said. "Uh, Rachel too, right?"
"Rachel?" Lauren sounded surprised. "I thought she'd left. She's there with you?" There was a short pause as she considered the implications, then, "Oh! I called you at a bad time, didn't I? I'm sorry, I should have texted."
I glanced at Rachel. I hadn't put the phone on speaker, and I didn't know how much she could hear, but I grinned at her. "It was anything but a bad time," I said, "but aliens could have landed on the meadow and I wouldn't have let it distract me."
"Then we'll see you both in an hour?" she asked, still sounding embarrassed.
I glanced over at Rachel before accepting for both of us. "Sure."
"Okay if I add to your ever-growing underwear wash?" Rachel asked.
"Sure, but it isn't ever-growing," I said. "Your thong is cleaned and ready to go home with you."
"Great, I'll wear it now," she said.
Lauren and Mika were waiting for us at the center table. Evening was settling in, and the air had started to become chill, but we were comfortable in jackets. The colored lights around the sides of the garden gave a sense of warmth in the approaching dusk. Rachel's fingers brushed mine as we walked the short distance to join them.
Mika gave a small wave, then gestured an invitation to sit. "We have carrot cake and several banana puddings," she said.
"Banana pudding, please," I said immediately, while Rachel selected carrot cake. Lauren poured coffee from a carafe. There was a jug of cream, which I took advantage of, and sugar, which I didn't.
"How was it?" Rachel asked.
"Successful on all counts, in my opinion," said Lauren, "though Mika's unconvinced about letting any of the work go public."
"No, I think I can do it," Mika said. "Just not quite yet. Not until I've shown more recent pieces to counter the effect. I'd like to know that they won't be seen as temper tantrums."
"Your friends seem like good people," Rachel said. "One of them was trying to recruit Mandy and me to a softball team. I don't think either of us is a great candidate for a church team."
"That would be Nyss," Lauren said. "She's asked me, too. I might do it. Faye and Erin are members of the church, so they're not a homophobic group."
"Huh, that does make it a little less horrifying," I said.
"Another one invited me to a club they all visit," Rachel added. "Short woman - Tiff? I think that's her name."
Lauren laughed. "Tiff claims the only reason she was at the party was to sneak a look at Mika's private drawings of me. She didn't see them."
Mika was opening a wine bottle. "Tiff is the life and soul of the party," she said. "As for the club, did she tell you what it is?" Before Rachel could answer, she raised the bottle. "Wine?"
Lauren and I accepted immediately, but Rachel frowned in consideration. I leaned close to whisper to her. "You don't need to leave right away, if you don't want to."
She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Sure," she said. "She didn't tell me about the club."
"I fear that it's for your age group and below, not mine," Mika said. "I believe that it caters mostly to temporary assignations. For single ladies, especially."
Mika looked between Rachel and me.
"That might be ideal for Rachel," I said, "though it sounds like I might have aged out." I reached out to take the glass Mika held out to me, noticing as I did that Lauren was trading a glance with Rachel. I had no idea what that was about.
Rachel took the glass that Mika had poured, but she didn't take a sip. After a few moments, she looked at me. Giving me a bright, quick smile, she said, "I think I should leave after all. My boss has an early meeting in the morning, and I'll need to be there to prepare." She set the glass back on the table. "The wine is untouched if anyone wants it."
I watched her leave, no trace of panty outline under the blue capris. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up into Lauren's disappointed expression.
Well, that was fair, I was disappointed, too.