Nocturnal Erethism
Copyright© 2006 by RitalinUnderdose
Chapter 2: Shared Mornings
Beth woke all at once.
The familiar ripple moved through her and faded almost as quickly as it had come. Twenty years ago it would have left her breathless and wide-eyed in the dark, waiting for the next wave to arrive. Now it was more like a small tremor, a reminder from a nervous system that had never quite learned proper etiquette.
She lay still for a moment anyway. Old habits. Nothing else followed.
Above the bed the ceiling fan turned slowly, stirring the warm morning air in quiet circles. The faint rhythm had been part of their bedroom for so long that Beth barely noticed it anymore, except on mornings like this when she found herself awake a little earlier than planned.
She turned her head on the pillow.
Cheryl slept beside her, one arm tucked under the pillow and the blanket pulled halfway up her shoulder. Early light from the window caught the streaks of gray in her hair. They had appeared gradually over the years: first one or two strands, then a few more, until one day they were simply part of the picture.
Beth liked them. They made Cheryl look calmer somehow. More certain.
The mattress shifted slightly. Cheryl opened one eye and looked at her.
“Morning already?”
Beth nodded. “Just a minor earthquake.”
Cheryl closed her eye again and exhaled softly into the pillow. “Anything over a four and I’m getting coffee.”
Beth smiled.
She lay there another moment, listening to the fan turning above them, and wondered briefly if she should get up before the alarm went off. There was a staff meeting waiting for her later that morning, the kind that involved slides, timelines, and a number of developers who believed time itself was a flexible suggestion.
Which meant espresso. Probably several.
Beside her, Cheryl stretched slightly and rolled onto her back, blinking at the ceiling.
“You thinking about work already?” she asked.
Beth sighed. “Trying not to.”
“Good plan.”
Beth looked at her for a moment. After twenty years she could still read Cheryl’s expressions before they fully formed, the way dancers seemed to know where the other one was about to step before the music moved them there.
Beth nudged her lightly with an elbow.
“If I fall asleep in that meeting today, it’s on you.”
Cheryl squinted at her. “How exactly is that my fault?”
“You didn’t make coffee.”
Cheryl considered this.
Then she pulled Beth in for a kiss and whispered, “That sounds like a management problem.”
Beth laughed softly against her lips and kissed her again. For a moment neither of them moved. It was the sort of pause that came from knowing someone too well to rush anything.
Beth’s hand slid into Cheryl’s hair, tracing the familiar streaks of gray she admired. They represented a life together. Commitment. Cheryl shifted under her, stretching slightly against the mattress as the kiss deepened. Time had taught them the quiet rhythm of mornings like this.
A soft moan escaped somewhere between them.
Her fingers traced Cheryl’s locks and slid down along her arms before she pushed her onto her back, playfully hard. She placed kisses and murmurs along Cheryl’s neck, pushing her hair back to nip at her earlobes.
She traced the curves of her breasts and her stiffening nipples with her fingers and her tongue. Her cheek rested on Cheryl’s abdomen, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth and the faint scent of arousal from Cheryl’s rising excitement.
Cheryl’s legs parted and drew in Beth’s searching lips. Beth reached for and cupped Cheryl’s bum in both hands and pulled her close. She sighed in contentment and descended upon Cheryl’s now pulsing pussy. Her clit already emerging. Her tongue touched it and then flicked it back and forth, apologizing for the tease with a kiss.
Cheryl’s hips began moving and dancing against Beth’s face, now doing much of the work in finding her release. Beth kept steady and enjoyed knowing Cheryl would soon crest with her own “erethism.” Cheryl gasped and cried out, stiffened with her clit pressed hard on Beth’s mouth and then, at last, relaxed.
Cheryl’s breath finally slowed, her weight settling comfortably against the mattress. For a moment neither of them said anything.
Beth rested her cheek against Cheryl’s stomach, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing. After twenty years she could tell exactly when Cheryl was drifting back toward sleep.
Cheryl reached down and ran her fingers through Beth’s hair.
“Show-off,” she murmured.
Beth laughed softly and rolled onto her back. “You can’t go to sleep now. You owe me coffee!”
Beth stepped out of the elevator and into the familiar hum of the department.
The pit was already alive. Phones ringing, keyboards rattling, the soft murmur of people explaining problems to users who did not want to hear about them.
“Morning, Boss!” someone called.
Beth smiled and lifted a hand in acknowledgment as she walked past.
Twenty years ago she had been one of the people sitting in those chairs, juggling support tickets and apologizing to users whose computers had been personally offended by something they’d done. Now she mostly just signed off on budgets and occasionally prevented the building from catching fire.
Progress, of a sort.
She headed straight for the espresso machine.
The machine sat on the counter like a chrome-plated control panel. Steam whispered from somewhere inside it and one of the pressure gauges trembled faintly. It had more switches, levers, and dials than half the equipment in her server room.
Beth regarded it with professional respect.
Officially, the machine had been purchased to improve staff morale. Beth had very strong opinions about morale.
She flipped a switch, adjusted the portafilter, and coaxed the machine into producing the first shot of the day.
As the machine gurgled to life, she noticed someone watching her from across the open space.
Kristin.
One of the newer developers. Good coder. Quiet. Reliable.
Also currently staring at Beth like she was trying to decide whether it was safe to approach a wild animal.
Oh boy, Beth thought.