As usual, a huge shout-out to my editing team. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. Thank you for all you do, HDK. My editors are PapaKilo14, Hal, Pixel the Cat, GeorgeAnderson and Olddave1951. Thank you, gentlemen, I love you all and you did your usual awesome thing. SBrooks103x is the remaining member of my team, but for the obvious reasons, did not edit.
I coauthored a story with GeorgeAnderson some time back and enjoyed the experience very much. When SBrooks approached me, looking for story ideas, I offered to coauthor this story with him. He has been a pleasure to work with, and I’m very pleased with our story. I hope to work with him again. He is a long-time member of my team, a dear friend and his work has been very valuable to me as I learned to write. I’m proud of his advancement as a writer; he was always a good editor.
From the coauthor: When Randi offered me the opportunity to co-write with her, to say that I was flabbergasted would be a huge understatement! I honestly couldn’t imagine what my meager ability could contribute to her awesome talent. I give her full credit for coming up with the basic scenarios, and thank her for her support and patience as I did my best to flesh them out. She has always been my sweet inspiration, and I hope to have the chance to work with her again.
The regular sound of the movement in the grandfather’s clock outside our bedroom door and the soothing hiss of the rain on the tile roof made me snuggle deeper into the covers. I glanced at the alarm and it read 3:46. I couldn’t imagine what woke me, but I was going back to sleep. I heard it again, the sound that must have dragged me from the warmth of my dream. I didn’t identify it at first, but then I realized that it was the alert sound from my husband’s phone. I slid over until I could hook his pants with my toe.
I pulled the phone from his pocket and pushed the mute button. I was almost asleep when I heard it again. He must have set it to go off on a timer when he had a text. Now I was perturbed. He wasn’t moving, the sound of his heavy breathing telling me that nothing short of a bomb going off outside the window was going to awaken him. I sighed, reached down and snagged his pants again.
I knew his swipe pattern. I’d seen him do it a million times. The screen said he had a text with an attachment. Idly, I tapped the attachment. It was a picture and it changed my life. It was from someone calling themselves, “girlofyourdreams.” I had thought, mistakenly, apparently, that I was the “girl of his dreams.” Evidently, I had been laboring under a misapprehension. The picture showed someone’s vagina, leaking cum, and the text said, “Can’t wait until next time.”
It was obviously some white chick. Evidently, some of those clichés are true. I knew one that wasn’t. It had to do with size and Calvin sure gave the lie to that one. I eased out of bed, got dressed quietly and started working. I was as quiet as a mouse and in thirty minutes, I had him packed and his stuff in his car in the garage.
The house belonged to me. I owned it before I met Calvin and I had a prenup to protect it. I found my fighting sticks in the hall closet and went back up to the bedroom. He was snoring slightly and I gave him a love tap on the nose. He shot upright in the bed and I flipped on the light.
“What the hell, Sahara!” He held his nose. It dripped a little and I threw him the box of tissues. He staunched his drip and I tossed him his phone, striking him just where I intended. “You have a text,” I told him as he groaned and clutched his groin.
“Shit,” he said as he saw the message. “Listen, babe, I know this looks bad, but she kept coming on to me! I just ... I finally just gave in. It was just one time. I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again.”
“You’re right about that,” I said. “It may happen again, but not while you’re living with me. Get up, get dressed and get out, Calvin. Don’t call, don’t drop by and don’t send a candy-gram. Just disappear. I’ll be filing tomorrow.”
“Wait! Just let me tell you why.”
I cut him off. “No, you’re through telling me things. I’m telling you, now. I don’t care why. Get up, get dressed and get out. You told me why last time and I forgave you. You were drunk; it was a mistake; it won’t happen again. Well, it did. You’re a stupid man, Calvin. Get moving.”
“It’s four fucking o’clock,” he complained. “Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t care where you go,” I said. “Away, that’s all I care about. Go find your slut. She’s dreaming about you. Your ride on this train is over. Do you want me to break your arms?”
He took a look at the sticks and decided he should move. It was a wise decision. As pissed as I was, I probably wouldn’t have stopped with his arms. He got up and went to the dresser. “Where’s all my shit?” he asked.
“In your car,” I told him. “I left you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I suggest you put them on quickly. Your nuts are looking awfully tempting there.”
He hurried. In ten minutes, he was gone. I was getting more furious by the minute. It’s a good thing he wasn’t here, or I would have committed several felonies on his sorry-ass person. I didn’t need to do jail time, but he’d left some pictures and shit, so I visited my wrath on them. Finally, it was light enough to go out. I went for a run so I’d be calm enough to talk with my rock: my Mama. I called Mom at nine and told her what had happened. “You’re better than that sorry excuse for a man, anyway, baby,” she told me. “I never wanted you to marry that man.”
“Well, you were right, Mama,” I said. “You told me so, okay? You happy now?”
“No, baby, I’m so sorry.” I could hear tears in her voice. “That’s not what I was saying at all. I’m just saying I’m glad you kicked his sorry ass out.”
“Thanks, Mama,” I told her. “I’m sorry I was a smartass. I’m just a mess. I’m pissed off and I feel like I’ve been pissed on. How are you feeling, Mama?”
“I’m okay, baby,” she said. “You want to come and stay with me for a while?”
I did, very much. So much that I sold the house a month later and moved in with her. Just me and my little mother, exactly the way it had been all my life, as if Calvin had never happened.
Six months later, I pulled out onto the highway and stopped. I had no idea where I was going, but I just knew it was away from Atlanta. Atlanta is a shit hole. I had been there all my life and I was heartily sick of it. My mother had passed away three days before. She was a little old doll, as healthy as a horse and as chipper as a sparrow. I never knew my father, but I heard he was killed in a robbery attempt when I was five. Mom told me she was feeling funny and then she clutched her head and collapsed. It was a massive stroke and she just kept having them over the next two days until there was nothing left. She was still breathing, but that was it. They told me we needed to remove the tubes and let her go. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
There was nothing tying me there anymore. I went home after Mom stopped breathing and cried for four hours. I thought about getting drunk, but decided that was pathetic. I made her arrangements. She wanted to be cremated, and no funeral. Her ashes went into the burial plot she had picked out and I made the arrangements to put the house on the market, have all our stuff packed up and taken to storage and I pawned my engagement and wedding rings.
I had four suitcases and a bag in the back of my Super Bee. I’m a hot rod girl. My Super Bee isn’t stock. It’s a 2007 with the Detonator Yellow and Flat Black paint job. I swapped the engine out for a 6.4-liter hemi the year after I got it. It was making 470 horsepower out of the crate. It’s over 700 now. I put a supercharger on it last year. The supercharger is a 145 cubic inch twin-screw IHI unit with integrated charge coolers, and makes 11.6 psi of boost. I love pulling up next to the Mustang owners and just crushing them at the stoplights.
I sat there for a minute and decided to head west. I put the throttle down, and thank God for traction control. I shot out of there like a scalded dog, and I was on my way. I didn’t know where I was going to wind up, but it was going to be a hell of a ride.
I’m a writer. You may have read some of my books. I don’t have a number one bestseller or anything, but I’ve cracked the top 100 three times. I didn’t have to be anywhere special to do my work and I wasn’t in any hurry anyway. You wouldn’t recognize my name; I write under a pseudonym. My real name is Sahara Wright. I just turned 28 and I’m a graduate of Georgia Tech and Auburn. I have a Ph.D. in Education Administration and another in English. I’ve never used them, but there they are. I drove west.
I didn’t know where I was going to end up, but I knew I’d recognize it when I saw it. I stayed in Austin, Texas, for five days. I really liked the area, but it was having growing pains and I moved on. I was running through Arizona on I-40 when I saw the San Francisco Peaks for the first time. They were mesmerizing to me. A Georgia girl just isn’t used to something so spectacular. I pulled into the Little America Hotel in Flagstaff and they had a suite. It was beautiful, a kind of Retro French Provençal look, and I flopped down on the bed. It felt good so I went down to the lobby and looked around. It was nice. I wanted to check out the local scene so I asked around for a good place to eat. The people at the desk recommended the Cottage Place Restaurant. They got me a reservation and I tipped them. They gave me the address and I punched it into my phone’s GPS. I loved the place when I got there, but they had reserved me this room with only my table in it. That wasn’t what I had in mind at all, and I told the hostess I wanted to be around people.
She apologized and went away. When she came back, she had the owner and his wife with her. They seemed like a really nice couple. I told them I was new in town and thinking about staying. The woman apologized for putting me off by myself and told me she had an idea if I was up for it. I guess I was up for anything, so I told her to go ahead.
They left and in a few minutes, they came back with two women. She introduced them to me. Their names were Rosaline and Ellen Beck and they were sisters. Rosaline was this cute little brunette and Ellen was a tall thin blonde. She seemed very shy, but the owner asked if they could join me. They were both college students, and she told me they could tell me all about the town. I liked them right away.
We ordered before we had much chance to talk. I had a ribeye with green tomatoes and stuffed squash blossoms and it was delicious. They got a Chateaubriand for two and Ellen gave me a bite. It melted in my mouth and I wanted more, but my smoked ribeye was just as good.
They were going to Northern Arizona University and they told me all about the school. Rosaline talked a mile a minute, but Ellen didn’t say much. I couldn’t stand her being shy around me, so I wiped my mouth, got up and went to kneel by her chair.
“Ellen,” I told her, “Do I look like I bite?”
She giggled nervously, “No, I think you’re nice, Sahara.”
“I am,” I told her. “Do you not like black people?”
She looked horrified. “Oh, no! It isn’t like that at all. I think you’re beautiful, and I think I could like you a lot. I’m kind of ... a nerd, Sahara.”
Rosaline laughed. “Sahara, Ellen is really socially backward. Don’t worry about it. Once she gets to know you, she’s a blast. You just have to give her some time.”
I looked up at her. “Okay, but you have to hug me,” I told her.
She glanced around but there was just the three of us in that room. “You’re embarrassing me, Sahara,” she said. “Stand up and I’ll hug you.”
I did and she was kind of stiff. She tried to give me one of those awkward side hugs but I was much stronger than she was and I just squeezed her around until we had a good hug. I held her for an embarrassingly long time, and she relaxed and laughed. I kissed her cheek and she blushed. “I love little blonde girls,” I told her. “Especially little shy ones. Now just relax and tell me a joke.” I sat back down.
“Okay,” she said. “Why do black men have bigger penises than white men?”
“Tell me,” I said.
“White kids had toys to play with when they were little,” she looked at me expectantly.
I burst into laughter. “Oh, my God,” I nearly peed my pants. “I can’t believe you said that, Ellen. You’re amazing. That’s a myth, you know.”
“What?” Rosaline asked. “You mean that black men have bigger penises than white men?”
“Yeah, trust me on this,” I told her. “Black men do tend to have larger penises when they’re soft, just hanging there, but they don’t grow all that much when they get hard. White men start out smaller but they grow more. I think you see more size variation in black men. Some of them are pretty small and then there are these freaks. They work in porn. They’re rare. Huge isn’t good, Ellen, unless you have a big, sloppy pussy.”
Their mouths sort of hung open. “Well, I can tell who we need to invite to a party,” Rosaline said.
I laughed. “I’m not a slut, girls. I just know lots of black girls and they talk about stuff like that. I’d love to go to a party with you, though.”
“I don’t go to parties much,” Ellen said.
“Well, just the two of us can have a party,” I told her. “Three, if Rosaline wants to join us.”
“Are you going to be staying?” Ellen asked.
“I will for a while if you two will hang out with me,” I said.
“What do you do?” Rosaline asked. “Can you afford to just stay here and not work?”
“I can work here,” I told them “I’m a writer and I can do that anywhere. I have an advanced degree in education, too. I’ve never used it, but I could teach.”
“Hey, Professor James is retiring at the end of the semester,” Ellen said. “Maybe you could teach at school.”
The idea was intriguing. I had never really thought about teaching, but the more I thought about it the more I liked it. “Will you take a class from me if I do?” I asked.
“I’m in Pre-Med, so I’m through with all my English classes,” Ellen said. “Rosaline is in communications so she needs more English, she can probably take some with you. I guess I could take one as an elective.”
We had a great time the rest of dinner and I invited them to go with me to a club. Rosaline was down, but Ellen wouldn’t go. “I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?” I asked. “I’ll take care of you.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “Sahara, I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. I’m ... different.”
“I did notice, baby,” I told her. “I’m different, too. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m black. I know what autism is. I don’t give a damn. Do you care if I’m black?”
“No,” she laughed. “You’re different, Sahara. I like you, but I can’t go to a place like that. It would give me sensory overload and freak me out.”
“Okay, we won’t go, then,” I said. “Let’s go back to my hotel. We’ll play music and dance and have a drink or two. How does that sound?”
Rosaline just looked at me for a while. “Sahara, I think I’m going to fall in love with you,” she said. “You are amazing! You’re just gorgeous and you’re a wonderful person.”
I laughed. “Tell that to my ex-husband. He didn’t seem to have a problem blowing me off.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ellen said. “He must have been nuts.”
I just shrugged. “His loss,” I said. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met my two little sweethearts, would I? It’s an ill wind that blows no good.”
“Hey, you liked Ellen’s joke,” Rosaline said. “What you just said reminds me of one. Do you know what the definition of oboe is?”
“Hit me,” I said.
“It’s an ill wind that no one blows good.” She giggled hysterically. It was pretty funny.
They had come in a cab, so I drove them to the hotel. They fell in love with the Super Bee right away.
“Oh my God,” Rosaline exclaimed. “I can’t believe this is your car! I would be afraid to drive it. It might get scratched in the parking lot or something.”
“It does,” I said. “I use my cars. If they start looking bad, I paint them. There’s nothing as useless as a car you can’t drive, except a man you can’t trust.”
“That makes sense,” Ellen said. “Let’s go fast.”
At the next stoplight, I turned off the traction control. When the light changed, we just smoked the tires and they were laughing and giddy when I backed off. I turned it back on and at the next light, I pinned them back into the seats. They were like little girls with a new pony. I loved being around them. When we parked, they came up to the room with me and they loved that, too. I put on some music, got drinks and we had a party. Ellen wouldn’t drink alcohol, but Rosaline and I did. We didn’t get drunk or anything, but we got a little buzzed. I danced with both of them. Ellen didn’t want to, but we made her and she didn’t seem to hate it once we got her moving.
It was getting late, or rather early, so I called them a cab and they went back to the dorms. I was off to a good start in Flagstaff. I decided to stay a while and see what happened. I went to IHOP for breakfast and I was getting in the car to leave when the sound of a serious cam lope through some Thrush pipes made me turn my head. I couldn’t move. It was a 67 Shelby Cobra GT500. That meant it probably had the 428 in it. It had the red and white color package. When it parked, it was two spaces away. I had to see it.
I walked over and a guy got out. He made me weak in the knees. I’m a tall girl, almost six feet, but he was easily four inches taller than I was. He was white, with dark hair and fair skin and just gorgeous. He wasn’t hugely muscled but he was big and obviously fit.
“I love your car,” I told him. “Can I look under the hood?”
A big smile lit up his face and white teeth flashed. “That’s why I have it,” he said. “I keep showing the engine to smoking hot women.”
I laughed. “You must be pretty lonely then. You meet a lot of women that are gearheads?”
“Just you, so far,” he grinned. “I don’t think I’ll be looking for any more after meeting you.”
He popped the hood and I admired that 428 and the Holley four barrel setup. It was all chrome and clean paint. He had headers and it was just gorgeous. “Fire it up for me?” I asked.
It was a beautiful rumble. “You had the horsepower tested?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s around 480,” he said. “I’ll bet you’ve never ridden in anything this fast.”
I laughed. “You want to line them up?”
He looked around, but the Super Bee was behind a truck with a camper on it. “Sure,” he said. “What are you driving?”
I led him around the truck and he saw the Super Bee. “Oh, my God,” he said. “I love it, but it won’t hang with the Mustang. That 5.7 hemi is a nice engine, but it just doesn’t have the horses.”
“The Super Bees came with a 6.1,” I told him. I was playing him, but he didn’t know it and I wasn’t about to pop the hood.
“Okay,” he said. “Follow me. I’m going to crush your heart though, and I hate to do that to someone who looks like you do. The loser buys breakfast.”
“I’ve already eaten,” I said. “Dinner for the winner and two friends; how does that sound?”
“Do they look like you?” he asked.
“What makes you think they’re female?” I asked.
He laughed. “Okay, if they’re not I’ve just got my work cut out for me. Let’s go.”
I followed him for about ten miles and we came to a small airfield. He got out and unlocked a gate and we drove in. There were two parallel runways and we each pulled onto one. He rolled down his windows and I did too.
“Third horn blast,” he said.
I nodded and waited. When I heard it, he got a little jump on me. I expected that, because he knew when he was going to do it. He smoked the tires a little bit and I never saw him again. I didn’t know where the quarter mile mark was, so I ran it up to 170 and then pulled it back down. The two runways joined at the end and I pulled up beside him and got out. He got out shaking his head.
“You suckered me,” he laughed. “There’s no way that huge hunk of iron ought to go like that. What’s your name?”
“Sahara,” I told him. “What’s yours?”
“Merlin,” he said. “Okay, Sahara, pop that hood and let me see that rocket.”
Of course, when I did the first thing he saw was that big blower. He laughed and shook his head again. “Okay, Sahara, you got me. I should have kept my big mouth shut. Now, can I drive it?”
We traded cars and I loved that little pony right away. It was an antique, but it sure sounded sweet and it rode like a logging truck. When we got back to the gate, we parked and traded back.
“What’s the top end on this thing?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” I told him. “I’m afraid of it. I hit 170 there. That’s as fast as it’s ever been. Theoretically, somewhere around 210, but I’ll never know.”
“Jesus Christ, Sahara, that’s some beast you’ve got there. Who built it for you?”
“I built it myself,” I told him. “I’m a pretty good mechanic. I had help with the blower, but I put the engine in myself. It’s a 6.4 liter hemi, by the way.”
“You run quite the con game, don’t you?” he chuckled. “This has got to be about the baddest boy on the planet that’s street legal.”
“Yeah, and it gets more than 20 miles to the gallon if I keep my foot out of it,” I told him. “It drops to four cylinders when I’m cruising.”
“Modern miracles,” he said. “It still doesn’t sound as good. Where do you want to go for dinner and where will I pick you up?”
“You won’t, and I want to eat Italian,” I told him. “You’re the local; you pick the time and place. I’ll bring my friends and we’ll meet there. I just met you today and I’m not sure about you yet. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I understand. I could be Freddy Krueger for all you know. I’m not, by the way. I’m a detective.”
“Well, then I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel that dinner,” I told him.
“Why? Do you mean because I’m a detective?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll never go out with a policeman.”
He laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a policeman, then. I’m a private detective, Sahara. What do you have against the police?”
“It’s a long story,” I told him. “Why don’t we go back to IHOP, you can eat breakfast, I’ll drink coffee and I’ll tell you my tale of woe.”
He ordered and I got coffee and I explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m black,” I told him.
“Yeah, I kind of got that,” he chuckled. “You don’t look very black to me though.”
“Dad was white,” I told him. “I don’t remember him, but that’s what Mom said. Anyway, black people don’t have quite the same experience with the cops as white people. For instance, suppose you and I are with a group of hot rodders on a cruise. We’re all in a line, the speed limit is 70 and we’re all doing 80. There are a dozen of us. A cop sees all these hot rods and comes crawling up the line deciding whom he’s going to pull over. Who do you think that’s going to be?”
“Let me guess,” he grinned. “It’s going to be you, because you’re black.”
“You catch on quick,” I pretended to admire him. “Do I need to tell you that has happened to me a hundred times? I’ve been pulled over because cops assume that since I’m black, I must have stolen my car. I’ve had my ID checked going to my mailbox because the cop thought I didn’t belong in my neighborhood because I’m black. No, Merlin, I don’t want anything to do with the police. I believe that they’re as corrupt as the people they arrest. If you want to protect and serve, join the fire department.”
He sat there for a minute, just eating his eggs. “Well, I’m not black, but I have the same thoughts about them as you do,” he said. “That’s why I’m in private security. A lot of the things I do bring me into contact with the police, and I probably know more about corruption than you can imagine.”
“What does a private detective do these days,” I asked. “Snoop around and get information on cheating spouses?”
He chuckled. “I don’t actually do that myself at all, anymore. It was making me a cynic. I have a couple of old divorced guys who think everyone’s a cheater anyway. They do all of that kind of stuff. I’m actually working on something now that you might like. I might tell you about it, but we don’t have time this morning.”
I gave him the hotel number, he gave me a business card and we agreed to meet at seven for dinner. As soon as I could, I called Rosaline and Ellen. I told them I had met a cool guy, but I needed wingmen to cover for me (wingwomen in this case). They agreed to go and I worked for a while on my computer. In the afternoon, I decided to check out the real estate situation and dropped by the university to check out the job market. The position was in the English Department, and they were very impressed with my resume. They didn’t have a published author in their department, and I could tell the Department Head was very interested in me. I didn’t know if it was my boobs or my resume he was most interested in, but I know how to handle that sort of thing.
I don’t have huge boobs, but they look pretty nice. I work out a lot and I still have that sprinter’s butt I had in college. I ran 400 meters and I was tenth in the nation. That probably doesn’t sound that impressive, but out of 30,000 female runners, I was tenth.
I looked at a couple of condos, and it was time to get ready. I showered and put on a little white dress. It showed off my skin pretty well, and it was low in the neck and high in the hem. The girls looked very nice when I picked them up, and we took off. I told them about racing Merlin and winning dinner for us, and they laughed.
Ellen told me I was awesome. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” she said. “You’re just so full of life and you have so much fun.”
She was sitting in the front with me and I pulled her over for a hug. “You’re pretty swell, too, kiddo,” I told her.
“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” Rosaline piped up from the back seat.
We were stopped at a light and I turned around, pulled her up through the gap between the seats and kissed her. I put quite a lip lock on her and didn’t let her go until the car behind us got impatient and honked. I let her go and she slumped back into her seat. Ellen was looking at me as if I had a third eye, and Rosaline was all flushed. I laughed for a long time.
“I think she’s trying to shock us, Roz,” Ellen said.
“She can shock me any time,” Roz said.
We pulled up at the restaurant and Merlin was already there. I introduced him to the girls, and I could tell he was charmed. Ellen did her usual disappearing act, and Roz just blossomed. We had a nice dinner and Ellen gradually became visible again. She mostly talked to Roz and me, but she answered questions when Merlin talked to her. When we got ready to leave, he walked us out and asked me if I would go out with him the next Friday.
“I’d rather go Saturday and spend the day,” I told him. “Take me to the Grand Canyon, and I’ll go.”
He agreed, we parted with hugs all around and the girls and I went back to my place. The girls really liked him and even Ellen talked about him some. We watched a movie on pay-per-view and giggled a lot together and I took them home.
I had a good week. I settled on a condo that was close to the University. I had been called in three times for an interview, and they offered me a contract. The money wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. I would be teaching English literature, film as literature and creative writing. The school had a literary magazine and I would be the advisor. They told me that the Dean of Instruction would be retiring soon and hinted that I could have the job if I wanted it. Since my degree was in administration anyway, I thought that would be a good fit for me.
I went out with the girls Wednesday evening and we had a blast. Merlin took me to a shooting range Thursday afternoon and that was fun, too. I didn’t have a gun with me since I had no permits in Arizona, but he told me it wouldn’t be a problem. When I got the condo, I called the moving company and had them get my stuff out of storage and bring it out. The Grand Canyon had to be postponed, because I was moving into the condo. Merlin had a pickup and he and the girls helped me move in. We had a lot of fun arranging things and we sent Roz to get Chinese carryout while we finished up. We all watched some cheesy movie Merlin had rented and drank beer. Ellen even drank one and she sat by me in a big chair. I petted her and she seemed to like it. Merlin looked a little jealous but I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed. Roz was getting pretty comfortable with him on the sofa anyway, and I don’t think he minded having a very cute 20-year-old cozied up to him like that.
I invited the girls to spend the night when Merlin left and we all wound up in my big king sized bed for a sleepover. Ellen took me to church Sunday morning, and introduced me around. It was fun and uplifting and the condo seemed empty after I took them home. Oh, well, I’d been by myself before.
As I spent more time with Ellen and Roz, I noticed several things: First, of course, was how close they were, closer than any sisters I knew. I also never saw them with any guys. I don’t just mean boyfriends; they never seemed to hang out with any men. I don’t know what they did at school, but when they were with me, there was never the excited chatter about guys that you would expect from college girls.
On the other hand, they always seemed to be especially excited to see me, and even Ellen was coming out of her shell more, and seemed to be more welcoming towards my hugs. I began to wonder if there might be more to their relationship than met the eye.
Ever since I became aware of myself as a sexual being, I have been equally attracted to both men and women. It wasn’t until Sex Ed that I knew that there was a term for people like me: bisexual. I was definitely attracted to both Roz and Ellen, but I was worried about upsetting the apple cart. I valued their friendship, and didn’t want to scare them off, and Ellen seemed especially sensitive. I also had Merlin to consider. He seemed like a really nice guy, and I didn’t want to mess up whatever might happen with him. I decided that I would be patient and see what developed.
The matter was taken out of my hands when Roz was at the library doing some research, and Ellen and I were lounging on my bed watching some mindless Rom-Com, while I was trying to multi-task, jotting down some notes for my next book. Suddenly, Ellen looked up at me and said, “You like me, don’t you, Sahara?”
I was startled by her question, and babbled something like, “Of course I like you, and Roz, too.”
“No, I don’t mean like that,” she said, “I know we’re friends and all. I mean like the guy in the movie likes the girl.”
“Um,” I said, showing my brilliant command of the English language.
“Because...” she said, crawling sensually over to me, looking deep into my eyes, “I like you that way.” Then she took my face in her hands, kissed me full on the mouth until our lips parted and our tongues danced together.
I’d had four women lovers, but I didn’t know about Ellen, and despite her kiss, I was wary of pushing her too far, too fast. I hadn’t expected shy, awkward Ellen to be so forward.
I needn’t have worried!
As soon as we broke the kiss, she started a trail of very gentle kisses, like the touch of a butterfly, down my neck until she reached my collar. When she started to unbutton my blouse, I asked what must have seemed like one of the dumbest questions: “Are you sure you want this?”
She just laughed and said, “Do you see anyone holding a gun to my head?” as she caressed my breast over my shirt, before continuing her task of unbuttoning it.
I just sighed, put my head back and gave myself over to the moment. When she reached the waistband of my jeans I helped her loosen them to finish removing my shirt, then I pulled her shirt over her head, noticing for the first time that she hadn’t been wearing a bra. She had lovely breasts, I guessed about a B cup, nice and firm, with a distinct perkiness to them. They had fairly small areolas that formed their own little miniature cones, with tiny pink nipples that were hard and erect.
Ellen quickly evened things up, removing my bra, gazing at my breasts with obvious admiration and desire. My breasts were a little smaller than hers, a full “A” cup, with larger areolas a little darker brown than the rest of my skin, with dark brown puffy nipples, like little Hershey’s Kisses.
“Oh, my God, Sahara,” she sighed. “You are even more beautiful than I could ever have imagined!” she said, as she leaned forward to take one of my nipples in her mouth, while softly caressing my other breast.
I gently pulled her closer, fondling a breast with one hand while gently stroking her back with the other. She began running her free hand up and down my spine, sending chills through my entire body.
I decided that it was time for me to take charge a little bit, so I gently disengaged, running my hands down her sides until I reached her pants. I quickly unfastened them and pulled them down, along with her panties. I couldn’t help noticing how she smelled, and I breathed in the heady musky scent emanating from her pussy.
Her mons was totally bare, with just a landing strip above. I could see that she was excited, and her clitoris was already erect and peeking out. I leaned in and gave her a slow lick from the bottom of her pussy all the way to the top, feeling her shudder as I did.
I pulled back for a minute and quickly removed my jeans and soaking wet panties, and she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in for a kiss.
“Wait,” I said, “let me wash my face.”
“I don’t care,” she said, “I need to kiss you, and I need to kiss you now!” and she did just that.
When we broke the kiss, Ellen continued to pull me up, pulling my pussy towards her mouth. I had given up resisting her desires, and moved up on the bed until my pussy was hovering over her face.
“Your pussy is just beautiful!” Ellen said. “I’ve never seen one totally shaved, Roz likes hers furry, she just gets a bikini trim in the summer.”
She was very good, much better than I’d expected. She teased me, gently biting at my inner thighs and making me squirm. The teeth were replaced by feather kisses over my skin and she had me on fire. I could feel her little pink tongue, tracing the corded tendon up my inner thigh until I felt her breath, hot and steamy against my lips. The little tongue darted out, teasing the outer lips until I thought I would scream. She pushed it up inside me, licking away at the girl cum that was dripping from me. I was incredibly aroused and the thought of this sweet awkward girl making me feel like that was mind altering.
She traced a little circle around my clit and I was getting frantic, waiting for her to finally let me cum. I felt her slim little fingers cupping my ass and then the incredible sensation of her thumb, slipping into my dripping pussy from behind. My clit was throbbing as her tongue circled the base, fully erect and seeming to be an inch long. When she finally closed her lips around it, lashing the tip with her tongue, I went off like a bomb. Every muscle in my body went tense and then spasms of pure pleasure were ripping me apart. It was as intense an orgasm as I’d ever had and when she pushed one finger inside the clenching ring of my ass, it just started all over again.
She worked on my clit, sending pulses of pure ecstasy shooting through me and the thumb in my pussy and finger in my ass just trebled the sensation. I came like a bomb and rode it until I thought I was going to pass out. I was becoming oversensitive and I began to pull away. She tried to hold me there, but it was becoming almost painful to keep cumming like that and I twisted away to lay beside her, my head swimming and my pussy pulsing with the aftershocks.
As I came down from my high, I realized that I hadn’t given Ellen an orgasm; I didn’t think that the shudder when I licked her pussy counted.
When I started to move down her body, Ellen asked me what I was doing.
“I’m returning the favor!” I said with a smile.
“Please,” she said, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to,” I said, “It makes me feel good when you feel good, baby!”
Ellen seemed a little irritated. “Really,” she said, “I’m fine, let’s just enjoy the moment.”
I was a little perplexed, but I didn’t want to put a damper on things by pressuring her. I figured if this relationship was going anywhere, there would be plenty of time to figure this out later.
We cuddled together and I idly played with one little nipple while she stroked my belly.
As we lay in each other’s arms enjoying the afterglow, I noticed the time and realized that Roz could be home at any time.
“Hurry, we’ve got to get cleaned up and dressed before Roz gets home,” I said.
“Why?” asked Ellen, “What’s the problem?”
“This!” I said, waving my arms at our scattered clothing and the rumpled bedding, wrinkling my nose at the scent of sex still in the air.
Ellen laughed! I couldn’t believe it, she just laughed aloud! I don’t think I’d heard her laugh like that three times since I’d met her.
“Why are you laughing?” I asked. “This is serious. What will Roz say if she finds us like this?”
Ellen gave me a strange look. “You really don’t know, do you?” she asked.