“Would you take her to a motel, or go back to her place?”
“I’d take her to our apartment,” Peta said.
Our apartment. Our Washington Park den, all polished floors and wide windows that let the setting sunlight stream through over the tops of the Rockies, over our collection of houseplants, over Moggie, our cat, as she lay sunning herself on the sill. Over our lives. Into our lives.
I glanced at Peta; she was still watching me and the slight quiver of her hard brown abs below the crop top told me how deadly serious she was.
Continue the game, continue the pretence.
“What would you do with her?”
“I’d kiss her in the shadows between the pools of light on Colfax, and she’d sigh into my mouth in acceptance. She’s wanted this; she’s wanted someone to seduce her slowly. It’s all too hard and fast for her in the Pink Light. Then I’d take her hand and we’d go home.”
“How would you get home?”
“Taxi. You and I never take the car when we go to the Pink Light as we always drink too much to drive. And Suzie would have had a couple too many, deliberately for Dutch courage. She wants to go through with this, she’s just afraid of the unknown.”
“Us? Where am I then?”
“You’re following me and Suzie down Colfax, a few paces behind, and you’re watching. Watching how our hands intertwine, watching the slant of her hips towards me, watching how she skips and prances like a little girl being led home by Daddy. And then you’re in the front seat of the taxi, trying hard not to look at what we’re doing in the back.”
“What are you doing in the back?”
“Gentling her. Soothing her skittishness, like a filly that needs breaking. Calming her nerves, as now she knows there’s no going back. So I’m holding her curved against my side, and I’m stroking that wispy blonde hair back from her face. Telling her how pretty she is, how desirable. Maybe I’m kissing her cheek, soft little kisses, sliding around to the edge of her lips.”
“Why our apartment?”
Peta sat up in one smooth movement and her hand came out to touch me. The first time, I noted absently, that she’d touched me since this game began. Only it wasn’t a game any more. Her fingers walked down my arm and laced themselves with mine.
“If it’s in our apartment I’m not excluding you. You’re a part of it, Ria. How could it happen otherwise?”
It need not happen at all, I wanted to shout. She could forget this crazy idea, this macho strutting to take Suzie’s lesbian virginity. Was it something to boast about in the Pink Light? I wasn’t sure I could handle that, if it was; sitting there, stony-faced staring into my beer, pretending not to care as Peta told and retold the story of her conquest.
And what of Suzie herself? Would she fade into the woodwork after this, curiosity assuaged? Or would she hang around, wanting more? Would she want Peta for her own?
I stared down at our intertwined fingers, at Peta’s hard blunt paws, at my plump white manicured fingers. I didn’t know what to say.
A thump in the small of my back toppled me forwards, my head coming to rest on Peta’s knee. She settled me carefully, stroking the hair from my eyes with one hand, while the other scooted the football, which had hit me, back to its owner, reassuring them that there was no damage, no apology necessary.
Her expectant face peered down at me. “You OK?”
Somehow, I thought she meant more than simply the blow from the football. “I think so.”
She nodded, and a finger traced the outline of my lips. I kissed it as it went by.
“So what happens when we arrive at our apartment?” I asked.
“Despite my consideration in not jumping her in the cab, Suzie’s still nervous, so she asks if she can have a drink. I’m putting on some music — something mellow, like k.d. lang — so you go and get a bottle of red. You can’t find the corkscrew — no doubt I’ve put it away in the wrong drawer again — so when you return, Suzie and I are dancing. I’m holding her close, and my hips are pressed into hers. My hand’s on her butt, moulding her close to me.”
“Are you packing?”
Her hand shifted to my arm, and her thumb stroked the side of my breast. I turned to rub my cheek against her thigh. She wasn’t packing now.
“Yes, so Suzie can feel the outline of my rigid cock. She sighs a little and slides her arms around my waist. That’s the sign I’ve been waiting for. Now I can move into a higher gear, so I kiss her properly. Harder, deeper. Really tasting her. She kisses me back, her tongue tangling with mine.
“You can see we don’t need the wine now, so you put it down, and sit on the couch.”
“Does Suzie mind that I’m there?”
“She never speaks to you, as if she did, she’d have to acknowledge that you were there, watching. She’s pretending that it’s just me and her.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m happy you’re there. I wouldn’t be doing it unless you were. I want you to get off on this as much as me, so I’m putting on a show for you. Suzie’s wearing a skirt of some soft cotton. And, slowly, inch by inch, I’m gathering it up at her butt. Now you can see the backs of her thighs. Now, the edge of her panties. What do they look like, Ria?”
“Peach,” I said, without hesitation. “A real girly-soft peach. And lacy. She’s worn her sexiest underwear deliberately. It looks good against her pale skin.”
Peta’s thumb stroked soft circles, inching ever closer to my nipple with each pass. I sighed gently — as Suzie would do — in acceptance of the spell her words were weaving.
“And her legs,” prompted Peta. “What do they look like?”
“Pale. She keeps her skin out of the sun. Only a hint of sunbloom. Soft legs. She’s not the sporty type. She stays slim by picking at her food, not by exercise.”
“When I get her skirt up to her waist,” Peta continued, “I slide my hand down the top of her panties. Her butt is smooth and warm, and I can feel her shiver. I curve my hand down until I’m tickling the crease between ass and thigh; nearly, not quite touching the fine hairs of her cunt. We’re still moving slowly to k.d. lang, and I turn us around so that you have a full view of her ass-”
“And that’s when you slip your fingers lower, further around, and move one up into her pussy. She gives a little gasp of surprise — she didn’t expect you to move so quickly — but now it’s too late, and you’ve got one, now two, fingers pistoning in and out of her cunt. She’s wet; I can hear the squishy sound your fingers make-”
“She’s not doing anything to me; she’s simply holding on to my waist and riding my fingers. I want to add more, but the angle’s all wrong. She hasn’t touched me at all; my nipples are hard and tender against my shirt, and I want to adjust my cock so that the base of it gives me friction, but I don’t want to let go of her. But, it’s enough; because you’re watching me, watching us, and your eyes are avid and intent, and now you’re undoing the button on your jeans. You’re shy; you don’t want Suzie to see you, but I can see everything. You’re wearing-”
“Simple black cotton panties. Unlike Suzie, I didn’t dress for the occasion. They’re old, and the waistband is a little loose, so I can work my fingers down to my pussy without pushing my jeans down further. My thighs are straining the denim apart, but it’s enough. I’ve got a finger on my clit. You can’t see my pussy, but you know what I’m doing, you know how I like to touch myself.”
My eyes were closed to the rhythm of our words. Peta’s thighs were hot underneath my cheek, and her own musky scent filled my nose, blending with the tang of grass clippings. I knew — I hadn’t forgotten — that we were in one of Denver’s busiest parks, but it was mattering less and less. I wanted to turn my face into her pussy, pull down her shorts, spread her thighs and push my nose into her thatch, my tongue into the folds and crevices of her cunt and suck and slurp and drown in her juices. But, even in the words she was weaving, Peta knew me well; public sex just wasn’t my thing. So, I pressed my thighs tightly together, so that the pressure grew, and continued. “I know you want to fuck her, but there’s no way to move into the bedroom without breaking the spell. So-”