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My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke

My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke)

Maitreya giggled ecstatically as she felt the mattress rush up to brace her fall, and that very act seemed for a moment to cause Brooke to hesitate, if for only a moment. Had she seemed too much the college girl, giggling excitedly? Was it enough to fracture the other woman's view of her as a powerful, confident figure of mystical allure? No, of course not; a youth in her place would be giggling from the quivering anxieties within her breast, and not from the scintillating lust kindled between her thighs. Her inner self laid bare by the heat of her desires, her myriad shells burned away to reveal the closest intimation of her true self, Treya knew vulnerability - that infrequent, unwanted guest - if only for that moment, and if only in whispers.

Any vestige of weakness was beguiled into fading however, by the throaty purr which marked Brooklyn's descent upon her sultry body, the briefest moment of uncertainty lost in time's folds, the recumbent woman reaching up to take the other's face in her hands and greet her advancing tongue with her own. The hands which had felt so good upon her buttocks - kneading the flesh and leading two pairs of hips into wanton unison - graced her flesh once more and precipitated her breast into rising. Her body writhed softly beneath Brooke's and she inhaled again as those deft fingers found the verge of her panties and slipped within them. The heat of Treya's loins greeted them there, and when they found the moistness of her folds she arched her back and groaned; her neck craned upwards and she breathed new passion into their kiss.

Every inch of her body tingled where it was met with the faintest of brushes: Brooklyn's hair upon her neck and shoulders was a manic dance of nerve-endings rejoicing in the caress of her chocolate tresses, and her stiff, sensitive nipples recorded every detail of the slow dance between their breasts. She felt the inception of a violent explosion well within her as pressure weighed itself upon the sheath of her swollen love button, but it was just a premonition of things to come. All the same, it brought another throaty groan and she curled one hand behind Brooke's neck, locking their lips in place, and the more those fingers moved against her wet heat, the further her hands advanced, until they slipped through a forest of straightened hair and caressed one undulating cheek.

Her fingers immersed in Treya's fire, Brooklyn felt the smoothness of the woman's thighs strain against the insides of her own, and then two hands were coursing her sides with a feather-light touch, teasing her gently curving sides and trailing her fingernails to and fro, from the base of her breasts to the tips of her hips and back again. When next they reached the verge of her panties, Treya slipped her fingertips within and let them slowly circumnavigate the span of unexplored flesh beneath the confines of her underwear. Down they reached, until she could grip each buttock in one hand, the groove between thumb and forefinger pushing against the waistband of Brooke's panty line as her own hips rocked erratically, responding to every whim of her lover's strokes.

At last Treya let her head fall back upon the mattress, haloed from above and below in thick waves of dark hair, and her hands slipped from Brooklyn's underwear. One found a familiar home at the back of her neck, pulling her deeply into the kiss, while the other ventured in fresh pursuit of exploration, trailing its fingers teasingly up the inside of a milky thigh to brush the moistened front of her underwear, and there it lingered. She pressed two fingers more firmly into the heat emanating from between Brooke's thighs and began to trace the outline of her lips with a teasing, come hither motion. Soon the gesture segued fluently into a circular pattern, massaging the petals of her heat-blossoming flower and rising, tightening in their breadth, and honing in on the cluster of nerves above her entrance.
 
Brooklyn loved the feeling of Maitreya’s hands, how equal and opposing they were in their search for compliance. They both had a certain fire inside she was not used to feeling next to her own, the way Maitreya and all her movements were a process of wrapping her up, pulling her in closer, groping and exploring her wanting flesh – she’d asked to fuck her like a college girl but she didn’t behave like one. In almost all cases the girls she brought home lay on her bed and allowed her complete and total control, simply writhed and wriggled under her far more capable hands, she didn’t dislike that of course, it spoke to her need for power and strength, it put her in her most comfortable of positions – and yet this new sort of interaction was like a breath of reinforced passion, a breath of new life into something so very addictive and necessary to libido and ego both.

The way their hair tangled together and tickled their skin, it was such a nice feeling, little star bursts of warmth skittering across all skin that Maitreya’s mane found. She could lose a whole day in the dark solace of the canopy their long somber locks framed their faces with as they continued to make-out passionately. Her hand continued its pace with blind practice, two outstretched fingers circling the woman’s clitoral hood before a moan and a pause caused her to revaluate her prose. The pause was brought on by Maitreya’s hot pursuit to catch up, to oppose compliance once again as she reached into her simple department store panties and began groping the mounds of flesh beneath. Her eyes rolled into her head and she was forced to take a deep breath, toes curling with the inhale – only to splay on its release.

Her hand adjusted, turning slightly, fingers pressing into the skin above Maitreya’s sex to allow better access, pull her hood slightly and reveal the bundle of nerves behind it, thumb turning down with perfect dexterity to roll over and bat at Treya’s pearl. Of course however, this was only so much, only so far – Maitreya was already jogging forward yet again. She had to break the kiss for a moment for a gasped breath. “Ohmph-uh-huck…” She groaned, her hips starting to wiggle and rock along with Maitreya’s efforts. She felt her cheap panties cling to petals so quickly slicking with desire, pulsing and quivering, screaming out to the rest of her body in desperate need – she nearly succumbed too it seemed the way her hand now only cupped Treya’s crotch rather than much tended to it. “Fff, y’said you wanted to be fucked like a College girl,” She growled, her hand leaving Maitreya’s sex and taking the hand between her legs by the wrist – begrudgingly pulling it away “I give them the best they’ve ever had – then they try to make up for it after.” She explained haughtily as she gracefully removed herself from Maitreya and perched up on her knees beside her – pulling her hair back and wrapping it around itself into a loose bun.

“Turn over, on your knees.” She gently commanded, not a question, not a demand – but just the same there was no room for debate it seemed. As she agreed, Brooklyn both helped with her hands and hampered with her lips – leaning over her and nipping at her back, kissing the mantling patches of saliva sheened skin no sooner than had her teeth left.

Once Maitreya was on her knees, sitting up, Brooklyn pressed in against her back – hard nipples and the flesh around them flattening against her back as she pulled the woman’s hair and draped it over her shoulder with one hand – the other dipping down between her legs to find the soft sensitive flesh between her legs once again. The bare side of Treya’s neck was subjected to the same treatment as her back, lips sinking down on the side of her neck and sucking, kissing, biting, little flicks of her tongue directing all the attentions to the next track of virgin flesh. “Mmm, I think I like you better than all them though…” She purred, breath heating the saliva she’d left behind on her. Her fingers with the same skilled ability circled her petals before tenderly dipping in and hooking toward her palm, almost instantly seeking out her G-spot after a little splayed exploration to stir her up and find how far she may be spread.

It couldn’t stop there however, Maitreya constantly kept forward momentum – so too would Brooklyn. As her fingers worked inside her Brooklyn eased her forward till she was forced to go down on all fours – retreating for the next push forward. She removed her hand and pulled it from the pinch between her thigh and stomach – guiding her so her bottom was her highest point and her face pressed into her sheets. “Mmm… perfect.” She cooed, looking down on the woman and one of her personal obsessions when it came to a beautiful woman. Breasts were nice, and judging by soft wet sounds of her licking her fingers clean – she must have loved the taste of Treya’s lust and she did, but Brooklyn was and had always been most drawn to a woman’s ass in all their scintillating varieties. She leaned forward and sunk her lips down on Maitreya’s left ass-cheek, groaning with delight as her hands cupped the flesh much like Treya had to her earlier – sighing as she watched the dimples her finger tips created and how the tensile skin bounced back to form when she released it.

A trail of kisses made their way from her ass cheeks to the space between, her tongue dipping out and running from what of her entrance she could reach, her petals, up the entire length toward a hole she could only assume had never been used, was maybe not appropriate to tend to, maybe just a little taboo for a first time sexual interaction – but then, Treya had told her what she wanted and Brooklyn didn’t much give a fuck for College nubile comfort zones unless consent was lost. Another groan could be heard when she reached the slightly acrid button, the first attention to a woman’s ass was not always pleasant – but it only took a few licks and a mite of determination to find the flesh and saliva beginning to taste sweet as any delicatessen.
 
However right Maitreya had been about Brooklyn's insecurities, she had also not been wrong about the fire which she gleaned in the woman's eyes. She'd given her one tantalising instruction - an invitation offered on a whim - and she was taking it very literally, taking Treya along for the ride in the process. There was something so inherently wrong about having her hand ripped away from Brooke's irresistible loins like that - a denial she never would have permitted outside the confines of such a heated sexual encounter - something scintillatingly taboo about the way in which she allowed another's will to be imposed upon not only her mind but her body too; the whole scene was deeply erotic, and amidst it all was Brooklyn - the nude conductor - directing her every desire.

"Mmmph... yes, ma'am," purred the exotic beauty upon the conductor's sheets, now feeling very much the prey seduced into the huntress' lair, and now she was following every command with a lustful fervour, rolling onto her knees and letting Brooke take her in her arms. It didn't feel an affectionate act, but one of power and possession, and it thrilled her as much as the stiff nipples which ground against her shoulder blades, and the hand which once again found its way between her thighs and this time entered her moist folds, drawing another rumbling moan from her lips.

It was clear that Brooklyn too was riding the waves of desire: her words came freely and unencumbered by thought, and the tonality her voice took on alone was enough to make Treya go weak at the knees. Moaning and sighing heavily through her nostrils, the easterner let her head loll back upon the other's shoulder, her hips writhing sensually to her touch - not so much fucking herself upon those nimble digits as responding to their advances as they delved into her sex - and her whole body moved and pressed back against Brooklyn's. Her smooth skin slid against the curve of breast and stiffness of nipple, insatiably fluid in the woman's grasp.

Confident, knowing fingers moved inside of her and she shivered in delight, and then there was weight upon her back, building and pressing and eventually forcing her into the bed. She fell forward and her hips pushed backwards; those enrapturing digits slipped from between her petals but Treya pressed backwards still, grinding her ass against Brooke's hips in a physical plea for more, which the other was eager to answer. She shivered again as she felt her lace panties drawn down her thighs, slipping over her buttocks to reveal the puckered hole centred in the valley betwixt two gracefully curving cheeks, and beneath them the glistening folds of her sex.

The very sound of Brooke's lips and tongue upon her own fingers - the knowledge that she was tasting her - made her insides roll in delight, and she turned her head to one side in time to see her lover descend upon her, groping and kissing, worshipping her ass with hands and mouth, and her tongue was dragged across not one but both of the gates to her carnal pleasures. Treya groaned deeply - needily - and pressed her ass back against Brooklyn's lips as her tongue wound about the tight spiral of her asshole, sending yet another shiver along her spine. It was perhaps a bold move, but the prey was very much beguiled and willing: Brooke could have her in whatever way she pleased.

"Mmmmph, Brooklyn..." she purred, her hips rolling, her derrière making love to that magical tongue. "Yes... Ohhhh... I'm yours... Tonight, I'm all yours..."
 
A certain place deep in the pit of her stomach that seemed connected to each and every hypersensitive nerve under her libido’s command twitched and coiled furiously at being referred to as ma’am and the compliance that came with it. Such shattered ego’s as her own were nothing but pleasured deeply by any stroking when too oblivious to be second guessed and this was no exception to the rule – she felt entirely and without question in complete control and she intended to take full advantage of the high while it lasted, while it lasted seemed like forever when she was so charged, like there would never be a natural death to such base desires and the tricks they played on her mind – and did they ever.

There was nothing mundane about this maintenance of her needs; sex was starting to feel that way. A new life of enjoyment had entered her sex life with the death of her and Jacquelyn’s engagements – guilty as she should have been for her infidelities and unfaithfulness she’d alienated and victimized herself within the role of her affairs. When she was with Jacquelyn the sex had become rather stale beyond the odd vehemently fueled jaunt where they did everything in their power to make the other writhe with submission - felt like maintenance otherwise, when she began the long line of affairs just to feel alive again she got just what she was looking for, soon came in the ulterior motive, her hopes to be caught red-handed in the act… this withered and putrefied into the trapping – would she even care? There was only so long you could wait behind a door hoping for someone to walk through to perform any sort of event from an innocent surprise, funny joke all the way to malicious cruelty before it just felt stale. When they inevitably died by the hand of so many other influences than her unfaithfulness she’d long struck the raw form fresh from forge that was sleeping around – what else was there for her? –and just like waiting behind the door in the throes of plastic passion for the cataclysm that never came grew stale so too did fucking random girls, the only difference was she didn’t know what she was waiting for anymore… maybe she stuck to the young ones because she knew nothing meaningful would ever come from it – it was easy to lay a few more dimples in her design to ensure it. –long numbed was the pain that came with a fear she might just spend the rest of her days alone. Her one release felt more like bondage on particularly pensive days, like an addict that shot up just to stave off withdrawals.

This wasn’t that, then again – in the moment – it rarely felt like it anyway, her insecurities, hurts and desperations were a creeping morning mist, only rolling in to frost each blade of grass that was her thoughts in the space after her eyes closed and before they opened again… that solitary time the world persisted without her, prepared for her arrival, her return. If she tried to trick the world, keep her eyes open, catch the fog in the act – it always seemed as though it came in an absent blink that escaped her.

There was no room in her to go contemplating these things here though, there was no room in her mind for the coil of darkness that found her elsewhere, and why would she need to? She didn’t pity herself for this, she didn’t pity herself for having sex, amazing sex, with an amazing woman, it was, she was. Her mind turned off and her passion guided the rest.

The response to her attentiveness to Maitreya’s most taboo of entrances was a triumphantly affirming feel. Many were the girls who could not be so willing to her lust, some were dubious at best, rare were those who fully seemed to love the idea as much as Maitreya did, the way she pressed herself back onto Brooklyn’s face and told her she was all hers to explore… fantasy fulfilment didn’t quite cover it as she’d never once fantasized about someone like Maitreya but it was just as thrilling as she could possibly imagine any other searches for imagined sexual gratification’s ends.

As Maitreya rolled against her face Brooklyn’s tongue became more forceful and focused on the sweetening point of pleasure that was Maitreya’s ass hole. Brooklyn’s tongue dipped out from behind her lips and pressed against the ring of nerves and delicate flesh seeking entry, pressing hard till it was allowed, groaning at the feeling of her accommodation forcing her tongue to curl. Maitreya was tight, not so much so Brooklyn would thing for a second she’d never been entered here before though. She’d never replied to the words of submission – she let her performance do the talking from that point on, the groans and moans of enjoyment they ushered in more than enough to spur on her need to push Maitreya to climax. Her tongue worked with a certain rhythmic skill that showed she was no stranger to this act, free of hesitation that could tell the same, she’d curl and dart through the tight hole only to pull back and give several soothing encircles of the puckered hole – repeating the process as her hands gently massaged the orbs surrounding.

In time, Maitreya’s ass seemed relaxed and inviting she pulled her face away and looked down on the glistening track of slightly off coloured skin, grinning at the string of saliva that tethered her lips to the worshiped taboo entrance, licking them in delight. Her right hand left Maitreya’s ass, index finger finding her lower lip and given a sheath of saliva before it too found the hole she enjoyed so thoroughly. Careful and kind she twirled her lubricated digit around the spiral before pressing tenderly for entrance, “Mmmmnngh… wouldn’t want it any other way Doll.” She mewled almost too affectionate for posterity as her finger entered, hugged tight by the two coils of muscle and nerves that had barred, quivering at the tight, slick, heat of the tunnel that massaged and convulsed around its guest.

As her lips once again found Maitreya’s ass she kissed and worshiped the skin about her tailbone, giving her spread entrance the odd lick if she could be bothered to stretch her tongue down to dip around her finger – her other hand finding Maitreya’s petals, cupping with her four fingers for a brief second before her pinky and index pressed back on the plump skin surrounding and her middle and ring entered. Three fingers inside, one in her ass, two in her vagina - all undulated with the same tender rhythm as her tongue worked just above. She’d said she’d fuck her like a college girl – this was far different, this was a tender and affectionate act of worship, not a careless theft to satiate her egotistical short comings.
 
My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke)

Slender brown fingers curled and gripped the sheets beneath them and Treya gasped, groaned and rolled her hips back against the skilled digits which penetrated her, probing her sensitive insides and massaging the common wall between the cavities which lay beyond her heavenly gates. Heavy, pleasure-beleagured breath left her nostrils and her bottom lip curled between her teeth; her back arched so gracefully as pressed her hips back with fervour to meet Brooke's sensual thrusts, her body undulating rhythmically in response to her probing, ecstasy-aimed fingers. Her breasts were pressed into the mattress as she grunted, swore and sounded Brooklyn's name amidst a lustful sigh.

Her lips were slick and flushed with the heat of her loins, the fire of her desire, and the hand clamped over them - fingers pressing within the hot, pliant flesh between them - gave Treya the sensation of her sex itself being claimed as not her own. This is mine, proclaimed the hand, and with it the key to your own ecstasy. You may writhe to my touch, but you shall not know that ecstasy until I permit it. And that Brooklyn was exercising her will over not one but both of the passages towards her carnal bliss - that was the most scintillating thought of all. Her body itself was tied to the sacrificial pyre, set to be ravaged in the name of Brooke's dominant will, though never before had such an offering been accepted with such a degree of passion and sensuality.

With others, she had been prone to aiding her own pleasure with the grace of a hand upon her clitoris, or by curling fingers through another's hair while she ground herself frantically upon their lips and tongue, but not here. She was blissfully resigned to to her fate at Brooke's hands, and the more she writhed and the more Brooke probed and caressed her from within, the more that fate was building, welling inside of her. She could already sense its release but did not strive towards it; for the time-being at least, she was another's to please, another's to bring to precipice of euphoria, and the ride was more enjoyable than any immediate surmount.

With every pulse of growing pleasure she felt herself and her desires more strongly connected to those of her night's lover. Sealed off from the rain-splattered world within the confines of Brooklyn's loft, their bodies were smelted together by a lascivious inferno. Mmmph, she's INSIDE of me! - in that heated moment, that obligatory fact struck Maitreya as more deeply erotic than it was incumbent, and she grinned. Her eyes flickered open and her surroundings rushed back to her, bringing it with the knowledge that she'd been grunting and gasping, her graceful hips bucking smoothly in contrary unison with Brooklyn's penetrating fingers.

"Ahhhhhhh, fuck... Brooklyn..." A shuddering exhale - she pressed back and held herself there, toes curling as the fingers within her thrust to and fro and always seemed to find just the right spot. Her hips rolled again, smooth flesh writhing beneath soft lips, and around those celestial fingers her orifices stretched themselves; she was knocking on heaven's door, and her breath was fleeing her lungs in a bid for entrance, leaving her gasping, panting, wanton as a dog in heat. Her muscles tightened and clutched at Brooke's fingers, pleading with them to grant her the release she so desperately craved.
 
Brooklyn loved to hear the results of her effort, sung to her with profanity and affectionate utters of her name. This was a special moment, one that was spellbinding in the tenacity it stole her breath away, just the same she continued to worship the sweet and savoury flesh that was her coffee toned lover, allowing her mind to drift away to a place that suggested she was just that, a lover – not just another fling – of course she wasn’t but illusions were by nature trickery given physical form, no matter how surreal they may have been and surreal was the idea Brooklyn could in fact have one. Brooklyn had never really thought for sure she could in fact support such a structured habit as it were.

She huffed a little, finding breath that she’d thought stolen and pausing her worship to look down on Maitreya with a peaceful smile entirely out of place for the heat of the moment coming to a head. What she saw before her was a sight she would have witnessed many times more, sable flesh glistening with sweat, wrinkling slightly around her ribs where she was folded into the bed running to her shoulder blades and neck, her fingers gripping the sheets tight and what of her face wasn’t hidden by her beautiful silken locks taught with corporeal pleasure. She was beautiful, she was hers and even the dark splotches shadowing her from the obscured light through rain drenched windows couldn’t plague that thought like so many dark clouds could try inside her mind. “You’re beautiful Maitreya, come for me.” She hummed before tilting back to wanton flesh.

No longer would she allow the woman’s body to brace or return the motion – the hand between her thighs that had spread her plump mound with two fingers and entered with the others pinched slightly and held firm so she was stationary – her petals licking her flesh with their sopping lush warmth, the fingers inside curled and adjusted till she found the inner wall she knew to house her g-spot pressing the small squishy wall and petting it in a come hither sort of motion not unlike the one Maitreya had-had for her panties a small handful of minutes ago. Her other hand also found new vigor and motion in the change of pace that was ushered in by the feeling of Maitreya’s insides hugging her a little tighter in preparation for release. She backed her finger out almost entirely, just kissed by the outer ring of Treya’s ass, joining her right index with her middle finger and sliding it inside the loosened considerably hole, focusing only on the membrane of muscle and nerves between the two sensitive canals, not sliding in and out of the hole but rather curling and uncurling inside to stimulate as many nerves as possible.

One final kiss upon her cheek before a playful bite – hoping to give Treya the final push she needed for the climax she’d been cultivating since first the found her bed.
 
You're beautiful Maitreya... come for me... Oh, how those two fragments straddled the span of time! On the morrow, Treya would reflect upon the former, and her intuition would buoy her own ego in the assuredness that - given time - her prophecy would fulfil itself. Brooklyn would fall in love, and she would break her heart. The thought alone would provoke a sick satisfaction, which like a snake amidst the most beautiful of flowerbeds would hide behind the sweetest smile. Her ever-bewitching visage played no such tricks in this moment of passion, however; the coming of ecstasy was writ upon her face, contorted in carnal pleasure, and her body was nought but the manifestation of lust, writhing and clutching to the sheets of Brooklyn's bed, gasping, whining, quivering as nimble fingers massaged her most sensitive of spots.

Come for me... Ah, what words to hear upon the brink of bliss! Her muscles tightened, released and tightened once more, her breath quivered and grew still more ragged upon the cusp of Brooke's probing, teasing fingers; the come hither motion echoing upon the front wall of her tingling womanhood an affirmation of those three ecstatic words - come for me... Three words spoken in the knowledge that they would be obeyed, for Treya was so close to orgasm that she could almost reach out and grab it. One hand did reach out, stretching before her as if to clutch her euphoria and draw it into her, but all it grasped was the sheets, balling up till her knuckles grew white. Euphoria lay not ahead of her, but within her; it was inside of her, in Brooke's able hands, and as her digits came together upon the narrow wall between vagina and anus, Treya tensed again.

"Nnnngh, fuck - I'm coming, I'm coming!" The smooth veneer of her voice was stripped away by the intensity of the sensations which gripped her body and for a moment drew them taut as the sheet around her tight-clenched fist, heightened to near-shrieking by the culmination of the pleasures which Brooklyn was rousing within her. Two fingers curled again within her succulent, lubricated lips, two more gently stretching her ass and pressing against her inner walls as her muscles squeezed and closed around them. This was...

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

Ecstasy. Behind clenched eyelids Maitreya's orgasm turned the sheer black into pixelated shades of grey, and before Brooklyn's leering eyes her hips bucked uncontrollably. Her toes curled, her thighs clamped shut around Brooke's wrist, and warm, sticky fluids gushed along her fingers. Treya's ass closed tight upon the fingers within it and her pussy grasped its visiting occupants as if in gratitude for the pleasure wrought upon the body. All that opened was her mouth, and even when she bit her lower lip it wouldn't close. Finally - after what seemed an eternity - she collapsed upon the bed, quivering, panting, her body still tingling with the afterglow of a powerful orgasm. When she rolled her head to one side and peered up at Brooke from behind a mess of sweat-streaked hair she found she could not speak, and as her breast heaved she grinned wide and blissfully; her eyes narrowed in adoration and she blinked her gratitude towards the gloriously naked and voluptuously-breasted woman who had crippled her so sublimely. She reached for her hand - felt her own fluids upon it - and weakly tugged at it to draw Brooklyn to her.

"That... was incredible," she told her when she'd gotten enough breath back to talk, and her eyes beamed happiness upon her. She brushed the hair away from her face and pressed her lips into a kiss upon her lover's mouth. That was going to be a hard act to follow, though Treya was as care-free as a child as feel-good chemicals lingered in her brain, having flooded it only moments ago. Even she wouldn't have been able to say - if asked - whether or not she was acting or if this was real; of course, she would not have deigned to give a straight answer, but if she was acting then she was succeeding so well that even she felt her emotions as real. With real passion she drew Brooke into her, and with real passion she kissed her lips and adored her body with slender, supple hands.

It did not take long for her to recover her energy; she had a healthy sexual appetite which bordered on voracious when you got her in the mood, and Brooklyn certainly had her in the mood. With a sleek, warm thigh she separated the freckled designer's legs and slipped a hand into the crevice she'd created. Two fingers ran down the outside of her lips and cupped her heated mons, digits drawing together to find the moistness between and spread it. As she deftly massaged Brooke's vagina, she drew her lips from her mouth and placed them on her neck, licking and kissing there the tender flesh, and without warning nipped it with her teeth, delving into the wet folds between her thighs as she did. A low, sexual growl, so wantonly playful in nature, showed that her lust had not waned one bit, and patiently she set a course down the curving, undulating landscape of the other's body. Her tongue trailed over her clavicle and down into the valley between her breasts, and there she moved her head from side to side to take each of Brooke's nipples in turn between her lips - and softly between her teeth - as her hand began to wave slowly, pressing one finger and then two into her succulent crevasse, pushing higher and higher until her thumb slid against the hood which covered her clitoris.

Murmuring happily in response to any sound she drew from Brooke's lips, the exotic, caramel-skinned beauty gradually lowered herself between smooth, splayed legs, her tongue meandering down her host's stomach until it reached her crotch - hair kindling a tingling flame upon her flesh - and there she set to kissing and worshipping the insides of her thighs, her fingers still reaching into Brooke's depths, curling within her and beginning to stroke her G-spot. Forefinger and middle buried to the hilt between her petals, her hand clawed to stroke both buds of her flower, Treya pressed her teeth into the soft flesh of Brooklyn's thigh and turned a lusty gaze her way. Mmmm... Did she not look scintillating? Her desirous eyes wallowed in the sight of the naked body above her, and slowly she drew her fingers from between those sumptuous lips and planted a kiss upon them.

"Baby... I am going to enjoy you," she grinned, and like her lover before her, she spread her lips about her fingers and tasted the sweet fluids upon them, her eyelids fluttering in delight. Her head lowered, and this time it was Brooke's swollen clitoris upon which they closed.
 
There it was, something – above most things – she absolutely craved, the feeling of a woman’s reserve shattering, quivering at the end of her fingers, weak and pliable even though it tried so desperately to hold on tight, the feeling of their lust cascading out to coat her fingers and wrist, the soft pitter-patter as it dripped down to sheets and rolled down the insides of their thighs… the brief moment of freedom from the world it provided so vicariously before hers’ could begin. She’d never been one to seek multiple orgasms or even simultaneous ones, sure, she believed it would be something so profoundly intimate and changing – but she also preferred her methods and they’d yet to fail her so seeking a change didn’t seek desirable results inside her. What could possibly be any greater than being present enough to revel in the feeling she was now? –what could possibly be greater than getting quick return of it? Her job was done, she’d left her mark on Maitreya – put a new notch in her bedpost for bringing yet another woman to mindless release, she didn’t need to finger fuck her till she was too sensitive to continue to feel any more fulfilled than she did now and a sore elbow and strained tongue didn’t much seem like symptoms worth inviting alongside the fulfilment she’d probably not receive. She wasn’t greedy and wasn’t on a sexual conquest, wasn’t looking for new planes of intimacy and affection, she was just having sex with a beautiful woman, she’d just made her come and in return would be made to come with any luck, they’d fall asleep and in the morning Maitreya would leave and never again would they see one and other beyond the lasting impressions in the back of Maitreya’s head of that night that woman taught her what an orgasm was supposed to feel like… yeah, clearly she was already fulfilled enough and her ego didn’t need any more stroking than it already received… and clearly it was a one-time deal… clearly.

-so why did she keep imagining her in different light, on sunny days, brisk winter mornings where the world was painted chalk, in summer where everything was lush and radiant… She shook the thoughts from her head and purred passionately, regaining composer as Maitreya too pulled herself back from the brink of prose out of her control the two pulling together for a brief and breathless embrace.

Brooklyn looked down on Maitreya, matching her smile – it seemed Maitreya’s happiness was infectious within Brooke as she was following the compliment from back at the bar, smiling more often – at least since they’d passed the supposed threshold between the outside world and the bedroom. She only chuckled, modest in sight and reaction regardless of how broadly inflated her ego in fact was. Welcoming the lips that matched her own a low moan rumbled through her, body reacting kindly to the hand that searched it, sensitive spots – depending on the nature of that sensitivity inching toward the hand or away, her security also could cause this. Her breasts found the hands comforting, the feeling of a brush down her ribs pulled taught against her skin the way she lay also very invitational – however her small tummy not so welcoming it appeared.

A small huff, maybe with a hint of surprise came as her legs were separated by Maitreya’s, she didn’t know why but she found the suggestive, persuasive pressure so tantalizingly gripping, the hand that followed much more to that effect however, a deep sultry breath was pulled through her nose – lips quivering against Treya’s, while her lips became pacified and malleable the rest of her body tightened at the attention, stomach flattening to the harder more flat version she applied while standing sideways in the mirror. Her hands too found Maitreya, one in her hair, fingers splaying then gripping her silky smooth raven locks – the other on her shoulder undulating between a weak carress and a tight grip like she thought she had to hold her there, would reconsider the thought – then with the next movement between or legs second guessed once again “Oooaah…” she moaned quietly as she felt the divide of hypersensitive and sopping flesh’s pleas answered with gestures that while they more teased than released the felt amazing none the less.

“Hnng!” Then a change, her lips now absent of partner spread wide after a pitched admission – a stinging sort of pleasure burst from her neck, skittering across the rest of her form in a wince as two fingers plunged into her vagina without warning making the fleshy hot walls close for a moment upon them, hugging them tight, welcoming them graciously as the savior to her free them from such distressing desire as what they felt, even though she wasn’t on her knees grovelling for orgasm her womanhood be much more honest than the rest her body, the rest of her body which her mind had much more control over. As the fingers began to explore she straightened her spine as best she could to keep from writhing at their delicate ends – a task becoming impossible the thumb attached and tended to her hood and the bundle of nerves it hid each little rolling pressure making her hips sway in motion, butt cheeks clenching so tight it made her rise slightly from the mattress, oh god it felt amazing! –what was so perplexing however, it shouldn’t, it shouldn’t feel any different from any other woman with skilled hands…

-and yet… no. Nothing special here… “Aaaugh… fu-huck… mmmmmngh… Maitreyaah… oahmph.” Little grunts of passion from a woman that was almost exclusively otherwise silent in exchanges of flesh where she was on the receiving end.

Her approach shifted, finding her g-spot and giving it just what it pined for, the feeling of slow tender strokes combined with her tongue and the massaging of her fingers on either side of the sensitive plump flesh beside her entrance… it was all enough to drive her entirely wild. Her breasts lulled along her chest with every ragged breath the attentions caused, bursts of pleasure ravaging her frame between each flourish from the bites at the insides of her thighs to those focused within her or upon her sensitive clit, while her thighs were by no means sensitive by comparison every single nerve in her command was sexually charged like Maitreya had hooked her to jumper cables! A deep breath of composure, it was still so early, the exchange still so young, she couldn’t let her win her over so easily – one problem with always going first, by the time a truly skilled woman like Maitreya was tending to her she was already so aroused it didn’t take near as much to have her ready to beg for more or succumb entirely to what was already being offered. Shakily she propped herself up on her elbows and looked down on Maitreya between her legs looking up at her, she didn’t give any words for the promise or the nickname that had ushered it in – narrowed her eyes and bit her rueful lips as if to say Well, what are you waiting for? even as her whole body’s movement was a clear ebb and flow stirred by the fingers within, fingers that gradually led her in only one direction, scintillating sin abound – just out of reach but drawing nearer and neared with each passing curl, splay, wriggle and lick. “Mmmmngghh…”
 
Maitreya gazed up at her from beneath thin, dark eyebrows, her ears massaged by the soft, wet sounds of her mouth embracing Brooke's hot sex. She curled her tongue over her bottom lip and drew it ecstatically across the tender ball of nerves at the tip of her slick slit, sucked hard upon her clitoris when her mouth closed around it again, and a deft finger stroked upwards along the gap between her buttocks to the pulsing mound of pink flesh above it.The taste in her mouth was sweet and more deeply arousing than any other, and she moaned as she ate out her lover, sending small vibrations rippling through the sensitive area so passionately caressed by her lips and tongue.

There were few acts she found more erotic than pleasing another woman with her mouth - few if any at all - and the impassioned undulations of the body splayed before her were testament as to why. Her left hand slipped beneath Brooke's thigh - the soft caress of smooth, warm skin a delight upon her forearm - and curled about the leg to rest in the hollow of her groin, fingertips playing lightly upon her heated loins. Oh, what a pleasure it was to gaze upon that beautiful, living feminine landscape, writhing at her touch; she moaned again and shook her head, her tongue dragged with it over her lover's sensitive trigger. No, there was nothing more sensual than the caress of a woman's thighs upon your cheeks, no flavour more coveted than that of feminine lust upon one's tongue.

"Mmmm... you taste amazing", she purred, drawing her lips away from her folds to lick the quivering hole between two round, sumptuous cheeks. Even for one as unflappable and seemingly wise as Treya, there was still something wonderful dirty about the entrance to a woman's behind; at least in one respect, the two women were alike. She kissed and trailed her tongue across Brooke's tender asshole, gripped one cheek and pulled it aside to press the tip of her mouth's agile muscle against her tight opening, and at length let it wander north to drink in every drop of the woman's moist arousal which her tongue could embrace.

Falling into a frenzy of passion, Treya growled lustily and buried her tongue in her hot pussy, rolling it along the insides of her lips as she teased her ass with a finger, drawing little circles around the hole before pressing a tip against it, her other arm all the while clinging to the thigh it encircled, locking them in a lip-to-lip embrace. Her finger slipped into Brooke's behind, felt the gentle squeeze of pleasure contractions, and again let her tongue find her swollen clitoris. Another moan indicated her pleasure in servitude, and her penetrating finger pushed and turned, curled a little within Brooklyn's ass and at last she let go of her hip and brought the other hand around to join the party.

Two fingers curled towards her palm, their sisters outstretched as she brought the hand beneath her chin to find hot, wet petals and slide between them. She was giving as good as she got, but there was not an iota of meeting a challenge present in her mind. She loved to please, particularly to please a woman as sensual and responsive as Brooklyn, and it was privilege more than duty which compelled her to bring her to orgasm. Her tongue curled against her clit, her fingers reaching towards it from within their softly squelching confines, curling too and massaging the spongy surface of her G-spot. A desirous flame burned behind her eyes, melting at the sight of the writhing, gasping beauty above her.
 
Brooklyn’s body quaked once at the finger drawing a line between her cheeks, a jolt that sent goose bumps up the backs of her arms and across the freckled skin of her collar. One of her hands shot nowhere in particular, reaching for her stomach, pulling on the skin just above her crotch frantically. Brooklyn, as much as she loved the supple, taboo track of skin, tending to it lustfully with voracious need – hers was quite inexperienced to that same attention she was so experienced in delivering, inexperienced enough the touch to it caused her the sudden movement that gave it all away. –She of course, enjoyed the feeling but of course, was also taken by surprise by the way it made her stomach lurch inside her. Oh god, she couldn’t handle herself with any grace, couldn’t handle herself coy and controlled – that ship sailed the second her ass was groped and pulled apart – the strong hot slip that was her tongue rolling about on the tight spiral that was her inexperienced ass hole.

The leg Maitreya wasn’t holding down bent at the knee and quaked much like the hand she’d gripped the flesh of her stomach with tight – dimples sprawling across her skin. “Oh… ohmph… oh fuck… Maitreyaah…” she’d moan sensually with each movement, her other hand finding a place not on her stomach but instead atop Maitreya’s crown – weaving through her silken strays, twirling the hair around her fingers, making sure she never left the space between her legs, not for a second, couldn’t possibly miss a single lick, kiss, nip, she’d not be afforded a single breath of air till her release arrived – and her release had better… even if she was in no real position to demand – even her coo’s and cries sounded much more like begs. “Oh fuck – ahmph… shhhi’h… right there! Right there Mmai-ooph…” her hips starting to rock vigorously.

She thought it was arriving, she’d found that perfect little notch in a good fuck all you had to do was latch onto, hold breath, hold position and let them take you away… she thought she was in that magical realm of baffling pleasure, thought it was in her palms, the final push – and then another push came – catapulting her forward, the next notch in reach, one she’d deemed non-existent under the sable beauty, that level you never reached, the one that when you found it you could only possibly describe it as the best ever even though it was really no different than the best ever, that came before it… just more recent of course. The finger inside her ass, the new not entirely familiar and certainly not unwelcome, that combined with two fingers stimulating her insides, the lips and tongue stimulating her bundle… she was arriving.

As the pleasure continued and she felt her orgasm within reach her admissions of pleasure grew to guttural animalistic grunts, deep ravaged breaths of low powerful tone, lungs swelling with each breath to the point her breasts slid down her chest toward her collarbone, further still as her back arched, toes curled around sheets still they bundled between the little appendages and the pads of her feet, long slender fingers gripping her head tight to her crotch, nearly smothering her no doubt as her hips bucked without any discernible rhyme or rhythm – just thrusting in infinite directions and shakes. Her pussy clamped down tight along with her ass, convulsing on the digits inside as she reached her mark, eyes shutting tight, she didn’t just bite her lip to stop a cry as her pallid face turned bright red along with her collar and the flat above her breasts, no, she didn’t just bite her lip, her front teeth bit further, jaw hinging back, teeth dimpling the skin half way down toward her chin and dragging back till they reached her lips with a small pop.

Her body locked, ass raised from the bed, the hand that desperately clawed through Maitreya’s hair flattening out and splaying, her shoulders grinding back as she gasped with each final movement of her lover’s fingers “Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah! –aaaaaauughhhmmmmmmmnggffffuh-huck!” and like a shot through the heart – her entirely paralyzed body went lax the final of three spurts washing from her womanhood, leaving her breathless, the skin on her face tingling with warm lustrous pins and needles like the rest of her addled form.

And once her breath returned, only enough, not much – only enough – came laughter, bright, mirthful laughter “oooh god Maitreya!” she yipped triumphantly like she were on the bow of a grandiose ship or rocky crag, arms spread, hair blowing in the wind, on top of the world, “That was amazing…”
 
Lips glistening with sweet, sexual fluids, Treya beamed across Brooklyn's heaving chest and into deeply-sated eyes. The grin was an honest one, and the exotic beauty looked all the more charming, even as she licked her lips clean and with the back of her hand wiped away the remnants of sex and saliva.

"Mmmm, I'm glad you enjoyed it," she purred, and laid a tender, lingering kiss upon the other's thigh, inhaling her luscious scent as she did so. She was skilled and experienced in the ways of love-making - and in the ways of fucking, if you differentiated the two - but the triumph of bringing another to climax still, more often than not, left her head tingling with satisfaction. "I could stay down here all night..."

"You could?" The arch of an eyebrow read the suggestiveness in Treya's warmly whimsical statement, and the two women locked eyes, a playful glint in their mutual gaze. "How about you come back up here for a sec first..." Brooklyn kissed the air suggestively and Treya grinned, stood, and with gracious movement lay herself down beside her night's lover. Slipping an arm about her waist, she pulled herself close for a series of short, frisky kisses, and giggled adorably before locking lips for a slow, deeper and more sensual kiss. Mouths opened and tongues intertwined - mimicked by the meshing of their legs as the insides of hot, smooth thighs slid against one another - and they felt the joyous reunion of their breasts as nipples met supple flesh. What a night... and it's not even over yet. Not by a long shot.

The freckled belle was not the first client that Maitreya had seduced - though Brooklyn had been so up for it that she'd scarcely call it seduction - and she wouldn't be the last, but she was one of the most sensual. She had an adventurous spirit, despite whatever insecurities harassed her outside of the bedroom, which kindled in Treya a desire for more. That is not to say that - devoid of ulterior motive - she would actively seek out future encounters, for she was wont to love and leave, and to taste the fruits of many. Neither was she promiscuous, though she possessed a well-developed sexual freedom which did frequently seek and attain fulfilment. However, her designs for Brooklyn held a singular influence over her emotions, as though she were now a player in the other's world, and her part was to form a loving relationship. She felt drawn to her, wanted her in more ways than one, and she would come back for more. As their bodies writhed softly against one another, dancing to the pianissimo music of their kissing, her desire to please rose again, and with the delicate playing of fingers upon her hip she began to kiss down the curve of the other's neck, at length found her freckled collar bone and then those glorious, voluptuous breasts.

"Mmmm, you have wonderful breasts, Brooklyn," she cooed, grasping one in her small hand and simultaneously caressing her side. "You're so sexy..." With a grin and a flash of her eyes, she continued her downward course, a trail of kisses leading her back to her knees at the foot of the bed, and with time and the intoxicating flavour of Brooke's sex upon her nimble tongue, she once again brought her consort to the height of her pleasure.

"It will be a long, long time before I forget tonight," she said happily as they later lay together beneath the sex-stained sheets of the bed, wrapped in each others arms. She could feel the beating of Brooke's heart as their bodies rested in unison, hot and weary from their carnal endeavours. "You're wonderful." Closing her eyes, she nuzzled the crook of her neck and purred in contentedness, squeezing affectionately. She had felt so bad earlier tonight... well, in this moment she had convinced herself that that was the case; that was her back story now. It didn't matter any more though. Everything had been righted and she was so blissfully content. Before sleep took its hold she kissed Brooke on the cheek, and with a warmth in her voice she bid her goodnight. The curtain fell, and Act One came to a close.
 
What a wonderful night it had been…

Brooklyn couldn’t think on a night so magical in a long time, first because she didn’t believe in magic and didn’t much want to give it that power but beyond that… maybe to compare it to one that felt just as nice, fulfilling, warm… well, she’d have to go all the way back to when she first met Jack and fucked if she was going to do that. What she knew, beyond the booze, beyond the vulnerability that could make her superimpose an extra dollop of feelings onto one night stands, what she knew for sure bullshit aside and walls down… she knew one night and the memory of it was not nearly enough when it came to Maitreya, complacently or ignorantly or just honestly – what she’d said, back at Stacy’s – it was ignored entirely, but she’d been right, she’d fall in love, a woman would come into her life, would make her want to change, be better, rewrite it all for her, this warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach as they curled together and breathed deep, cooed and hummed affectionately, it was the preamble to that.

“… me too.” She whispered, leaning in to the cradling embrace once she’d pulled her thick downy duvet over their nude bodies, once they’d found their place atop a dam of pillows between the head of her bed and the bay of windows beyond it – a small sill with radiator grates the only source of warmth but their bodies. Brooklyn’s big brown eyes refused to leave Maitreya for as long as the strength to hold them open persisted, searching her, ever little detail in view, every lash, every knot or ripple in her eye, every pore along her cheeks, every pit and valley of her soft supple lips… still amazed by her unchanging beauty.

Maitreya wasn’t some college girl to be used for dispelling her lust, nor was she some career woman, lonely and afraid of just that – being lonely, she wasn’t a successful business owner who had a wealth of reservations when it came to an attempt at taking pride in her life, she wasn’t the sort of woman who needed a girl in her bed to feel okay about herself, wasn’t the sort of woman who spent long nights in cigarette and whiskey stained rooms with dim lighting and dull music she barely recognized anymore… she wasn’t like Brooklyn, she was the sort of woman when you got lucky, just lucky enough to find them beside you – willingly no less, spilling affection, caresses and long content breaths, well – you held on tight, held on tight and didn’t let go, it wasn’t for nothing, wasn’t to appease her hormones or insecurities so she could focus on something else while sitting in her desk, it wasn’t to just maintain or… she wanted to hold on tight.

The first change was soothing the bondage of self she was so tightly restrained by, assuring her it need not persist as her eyes became heavy and could behold no longer.

-

Frost didn’t find her mind or heart through the night, only the outer pane of glass that sprawled from one side of the wall to the other and further down still, condensation lowly dripping down from the ceiling to sizzle in the radiator beside their heads with small wisps of steam she so enjoyed watching when her eyes grew tired of market reports and industry buzz over a morning coffee. Brooklyn was a creature of habit, so much so that her habits given time could become more like ritual and these rituals could keep her time and space organized meticulously without her ever realizing it. Her usual morning ritual involved a few specific steps not unlike another’s. She was always an early riser, even if she was up late for whatever reason, even if she’d drunk herself into a whirlwind of oblivion, seven AM and eight PM were the thresholds of the window she crawled through in the morning to return to the land of the living, scathed or not. Once she was awake, after a brief cursory glance to see if anyone lay with her or not, a careful slide out of the sheets and her house coat went on to keep her warm in the open space between the mouth of her bedroom curtain and her wardrobe. Once dressed she prepared a pot of coffee and let it hold warm while she casually smoked leaning against her counter, returned to the bedroom with a cup for herself and lit cigarette and this was where her path could go one of two ways.

If a woman was in her bed she dressed as if she had somewhere to be and bluntly reminded her one night stand they must also… more often than not at least some got the privilege of a morning together if she was feeling particularly needy. Once she was alone again, an iPad on her bedside table was her key to the world, she’d check her news sites, e-mails both personal (usually empty) and business related (with much higher population than ever) maybe she’d even play a quick game of spider-solitaire, more likely she’d stalk about the Facebook and dating profiles she denied ever using and her day could begin, this was a four cigarette set of activities and possibly two cups of coffee.

This morning would be different however, this morning would be different and contrary to her usual reaction to change she accepted it with placid resignation. She smiled softly upon Maitreya still sleeping peacefully and eased herself out of the jersey knit sheets to find her ratty old house coat – padding quietly around to her wardrobe and snatching a pair of sweats and a loose flannel top to drape over her shoulders for warmth, not even slipping her arms through or buttoning it up, a shiver and huff every now and again for the chill of the open space outside of their refuge.

Lazily a cigarette hung from her lips as she set out a tray, half and half cream, raw sugar cubes, two grande mugs with dark roast filling them just side of the brim and a tea spoon. She didn’t take time to make it look pretty before returning – more just didn’t want to make two trips even if Maitreya wanting a coffee was an assumption in the first place. Not long thereafter she stood at the side of her bed with her own coffee held just below her chin with two hands, her arms through her shirt but no buttons – only her pale stomach and the delicate flesh between her large natural breasts on display as she took her first sip. Brooklyn almost felt guilty for waking her from the state but it would only be so long before she felt guilty for staring at her while she was. The tall freckled woman eased into bed leaning on one hip with the coffee in one hand, shirt parting and draping down to the bed on one side to show her right breast freely. “Morning,” she cooed softly nudging Maitreya’s shoulder, “There’s coffee for you, maybe some breakfast if you have the time for it.”
 
Treya's eyes opened sluggishly, slowly pulling free of the bondage which sleep held over them and her alike, and the scintillating night which prefaced the morning came back to her at the sight of those large brown eyes. In general, she was anything but a morning person, one whose freshly-woken mind was zombified until the presence of another forced her to assume a waking mentality. She was a tabula rasa until the world enforced itself upon her, and more often than not it was the curtain call to herald her role in another's world which did the trick and broke the spell which sleep had cast on her. This morning the spell was broken immediately, and a smile yet sweeter than it was drowsy dimpled her cheeks.

"Hey... good morning," she replied, her accented voice mirroring the same warm sentiments evident in Brooklyn's, and from behind heavy lids she gazed up at the beauty who had woken her. She looked so bright-eyed and radiant to Maitreya, and after last night, why wouldn't she be? For a moment, she was lost in those warm brown eyes, and the sight of them brought back more and more memories of the passion in which they had shared.

"Sorry, I'm a slow waker," she said mirthfully, a soft, short laugh sounding in her throat more than it came from her mouth, and she rolled her face into the pillow before pulling herself up onto one elbow, the covers yawning to present Brooklyn with a glimpse of one smooth, light brown breast, a reminder of the lust and pleasure which had been their entire night. "Coffee would be great - just what I need."

Maitreya grew gradually more awake with each passing second; as she blinked slowly and affectionately towards Brooke, her smile grew a little wider in the knowledge that the memories returning to her consciousness were shared by her host - her lover - and an unspoken joy hung in the air between the two women. As though still weighed by the lingering sleepiness which was slowly fleeing from her, Treya's eyes drifted down towards the inviting space between two flannel curtains and drank in the delectable sight of one glorious breast - and the hint of another - before returning to their owner's freckled cheeks and welcoming eyes. "Last night was amazing" - she grinned.

Whatever vestige of drowsiness remained was expelled by the receipt of a steaming mug of coffee which she took black and without sugar - she liked the bitterness most of all - and a few minutes after the land of the living had claimed her from conscious rest, she was sitting upright and cross-legged, her knees splayed wide beneath the covers, her upper body shamelessly nude. Between the smooth orbs of her breasts she held her mug in both hands, breathing in the heated fumes as last night she had breathed in the scent of a heated lover, and for the first time she was presented with a real view of the loft in which she sat. Peace and contentedness radiated from her happy visage her eyes wandered about her surroundings, though behind the look of nonchalant interest with which she observed Brooke's living quarters lay a more scrutinous sense of intrigue. She wanted to know this woman - to really know her - and nary a detail would pass unrecorded. There was order to balance the mess of clothes which had been one of the few details she had caught last night, intently distracted as she was with the prospect of bedding her luscious consort, and the space within the walls spoke of a woman with aspirations, a mind not content to be restrained. She felt that she had read her correctly: she would be fun to be loved by, of that there was no doubt in Maitreya's mind.

"You know," she began, turning back to Brooke and smiling - as though she could not look her in the eye without a giddy excitement sparking in her breast - and for a moment a playful expectancy hung in the air. The ambience between them comforted her, and she felt a surprising lightness and lack of hesitation in uttering what came next, all of which was reaffirmed by the playful smile which betook her lips in its wake. "I'm quite smitten with you. How ever do you get rid of people in the morning? I can't imagine a single woman being happy about having to leave."
 
Brooklyn’s eyes crinkled a little, her plump lips finding an ambiguous sort of spot between a smile and a rueful grin as she watched the woman in her bed start to wake, any unpleasantness she usually encircled moments like this with, any unpleasantness she could associate with the morning, any unpleasantness about the start of the night before… it all washed away from her world, contrary to the usual night to morning ritual that would see it frosted over to stay frozen within her till a spring out of sight came to melt it all away, had it arrived? –or was this just a particularly warm winter morning that saw borders of green through a shoveled snow bank? Her dimples, the peace of her entire aura, the way she just seemed so clueless in placid joy, content… she had something Brooklyn wanted, she thought maybe she’d love to feel whatever it was that Maitreya did that had her appearing so free from the bondage of self, the bondage of the world that felt like a hand around Brooklyn’s throat… she didn’t just want it for her, she wanted it beside her. They could make a good team, couldn’t they?

When Maitreya apologized for her morning grogginess Brooklyn’s lips pushed up in the middle, a slight pout and dimples in her chin as she closed her eyes, tilted her head and shook it slow, once, as if to say think nothing of it. “It’s kinda cute that.” What would have sounded off as an endearing tease if it didn’t sound so genuine and enjoyed. A small one note laugh swelled her chest, only finding her throat but given sound without passing her lips “Yeah,” she agreed, eyes falling down to the bedspread to affectionately recant it. It had been amazing, everything about it had been amazing, more amazing is it didn’t frighten her, didn’t make her cringe and want to give Maitreya a swift shove out the door – she wanted to feel more of what that amazing felt like in her life and she was willing to ride on that flirtation a little longer. Amazing sex was one thing, she had plenty of it – it didn’t need to mean feelings too, but here she was.

Maitreya was scanning her apartment and Brooklyn didn’t need to follow her eyes to know each piece they fixated on as they drifted loftily about the loft. She hid the insecurities she may have had within, Jacquelyn hated the loft, when she wasn’t in her self-seeking and self-absorbed trains of thought Brooklyn didn’t blame her for it. The loft had been in many ways little more than a way to stick a fat fuck you to her after all. Brooklyn always said she wanted a loft in college, she’d love to have a loft as her studio and she’d have art shows with wine she hated and cheese she couldn’t afford and it would always be just as grandiose and wonderful as such things appeared in movies and shows, she’d be a debutante artist with a group of wealthy followers waiting for the next masterpiece to roll out. Of course, it didn’t turn out that way, she found herself much more involved with the discipline of graphic design and branding than she ever was with more abstract or conceptual art and Jacquelyn never wanted that for her in the first place, just humoured her then shared her own dreams of their perfect condo with brand new brushed steel appliances and a balcony looking down on a dog path or pool… in the end they both got their dream in a way, just missing a piece, each other. Jacquelyn started looking for condos in their last months of schooling – Brooklyn for lofts. Jacquelyn asked for the security deposit – Brooklyn couldn’t pay it because all her money was sunk into the refurbishing project of this building, offered subsidized rent in the future for her investment… of course, it didn’t help the resent Brooklyn ended up staying in the condo for five months ‘playing house’ before construction finished over here.

Of course, the resent didn’t stop there – Jacquelyn hated how she wanted to move in before the super finished reno’s and do them to her own vision, it had been nothing but sprawling empty space and fixtures with nothing affixed when Brooklyn moved in and set a futon on the floor she could call her own. Jack could never process why she’d want to live here instead of her beautiful lakeshore condo, no dog path but rather a view of a rocky bay’s shore and a jogger’s coral – no pets allowed. Jack hated how when the ball got rolling she just let it, she never knew when to stop and deal with where it ended up – case and point the back drop swatches that had lay on her counter for over a year and a half now, the spread out wardrobe, a system that worked but was far from adult or responsible in nature, she got used to things – change was hard once she was used to something! –just the same, Brooke would be chagrined to admit most her best habits and healthy responsible behaviors she’d learned from Jacquelyn, her healthy diet enforced, her financials, coffee from a pot rather than a paper or Styrofoam cup just to name a few. It would take constant vigilance on her part to remind her just because Jack was one way didn’t mean every strong, independent woman – Maitreya for example – was. There were no judgments in her chestnut eyes.

Almost instantly like an inside joke Maitreya wasn’t filled in on she responded, “I don’t, why don’t you tell me?” a playful response stolen from god only knew where, Maitreya’s playfulness met with Brooklyn’s mock curiosity for the rhetorical.

Her mocking expression turned to one of a certain flattered happy she could glaze over with coy acceptance. Brooke pinched her lip and let her eyes lower to the rim of her mug, an outstretched forefinger settling on a small splotch of coffee where she’d drank from it and traced the moisture around the round mouth of fired kaolin clay feigning absence in flattery, a far reaching grasp for the coy that alluded her inside. “Well,” she started before taking a sip and looking back to Maitreya modestly, “I can be very persuasive when it suits me…” a certain seduction bleeding through words that were meant to amuse, not exactly the honest answer however. Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head at herself, chuckling softly – a certain hint of self-depreciation swirling through, “Believe it or not though, good as I may be at dragging women here, they don’t even kick and scream anymore might I add, -keeping them around has never much been my strong suit.” Yesterday she was fearlessly honest and frank, today seemed a mixed bag of all sorts.

When she realized a bit of pity could be taken on either side for such an omission she jolted away from it internally, externally she leaned forward and placed a peck on Maitreya’s cheek – holding her mug out so it wouldn’t spill in the transition. She crossed Maitreya’s front with her upper body and placed her mug on the bedside table beside her, reaching just passed to snatch an iPad that was always conveniently in reach for her morning ritual – a loose cigarette and a lighter atop it’s touch screen sliding down to the beach wood beneath. “Mmm, it is…” she tapped the screen to life and squinted before reaching further still for those classes she seemed to think she could operate without – pushing the thick plastic frame up her nose and behind her ears. “Friday morning… hrmph…” a few absent flicks across the screen she held before her, settling down beside Maitreya as she mumbled something about a message, “Oh, right… Friday morning. –Jessie’s waffles…” after a few more absent flicks she almost seemed pained setting down the tablet, pained breaking her habit, the discomfort left her face for a grin and a raised brow “They’re pretty tasty, I think you should stay.” Her second offer of breakfast, a recipe of the easy going wife of the woman who facilitated the party Maitreya and her had met at.
 
My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke)

The adoring smile which graced Treya's lips at the utterance of a joke lingered on her lips as she inspected her interlocutor, her brow creasing only slightly in consideration of why Brooklyn should have such trouble keeping women around. It was - of course - another well-executed act, subtle in its realisation; she felt confident in appraising the reason why Brooke was still single despite an apparent multitude of one-night stands. The woman with whom she claimed to be so smitten did not strike her as the least guarded of people, and she was not so naïve as to assume that last night's particular flavour of passion was indicative of her conquests. On the contrary, she gleaned that they were just that - conquests - and a consequence of her wounded heart's unwillingness to open itself to the possibility of being healed, for fear that she would only fall again, and that the next toppling might cripple her. She knew that she had been through the pain of heartbreak, and she did not think that she was quite ready to risk a repeat just yet... although Treya had certainly made some headway.

In the brief span between contemplative frown and the receipt of a warming, delicate kiss upon her round cheek, the exotic foreigner pictured her new-found lover as a predator on the prowl, preying on easy, college-bound youngsters as a means of day-to-day survival, one after the other a meal on the run from commitment, that beast which had shaken her so, and left its claw marks upon her very psyche. It was an image which endeared her even more to the card-reader, for it was so painfully obvious that Brooklyn had not yet realised - or at least not yet accepted - that life in the end was one great tragedy, and in that ignorance she herself gave birth to a tragic beauty. It was unavoidable, but at least - in the meantime - Treya could mend her broken heart, if only to prepare it for her final capitulation.

Her eyes drifted down Brooke's body as the woman leaned across her, her open shirt an invitation to the luscious body which lay beneath: whether the provocation was conscious or subconscious, it was there. Right there, within arms reach... Her breasts really were beautiful, hanging full from her chest, their nipples ripe for massaging, their curves guiding the eye towards that taut stomach and the gentle curve of her sides. As she settled back by her side, Brooklyn began talking of food, but even at this early hour Maitreya's tongue would relish the taste of something more lascivious than waffles. Friday morning... well, I have time for two breakfasts, she thought to herself, though in the end she would be content merely to spend more time with the woman who last night had made her convulse in carnal delight. The invitation would not be passed up.

"Mmm, you're pretty tasty," she purred, leaning closer, her face turning down to accentuate the sensuous smile upon her lips, her deep, brown eyes upturned beneath dark brows. One hand held her mug close to her round, perky breasts as the other reached across her body, slipped inside Brooke's open shirt and found smooth, bare flesh. "I think I will stay..." Fingertips dancing lightly upon the other woman's side and delighting in the warmth of her skin, Maitreya leaned closer to still - her head turning - to lay a tender kiss upon the designer's lips, and there she remained. Her eyes fell shut, her fingers curled against the flesh beneath them, and she allowed the kiss to linger, lips parting slightly to close again and trail slowly against Brooke's. It felt so good to kiss her: to be sure, she was beautiful and sexy, but Treya also sensed vulnerability concealed behind a life-wrought protective shield, which was quivering in the face of her affections. She longed to draw the vulnerable woman out of her, to break the walls around her heart and be embraced by the warmth of love which might then flow freely over her being; she sought to release the duality of a woman softened into confidence and self-control. A short, breathy giggle passed through her throat and out her nostrils when she broke away from the kiss, her cheeks happily dimpled and her eyes fixed warmly upon Brooklyn's.

"I haven't got anywhere to be until mid-afternoon... I'd love to spend the morning with you. If you can cook half as well as you fuck... well..." Well, she left that sentiment unfinished, suggestion hanging heavily in the air as she laughed softly and never for one second let her eyes drift away from Brooke's.
 
Brooklyn had invited her to stay for breakfast and oddly enough she felt no strain in doing so, she’d felt no second guess poke at the back of her head or hesitation in it, in the past that could have been a several cigarette debate isolation would almost always win without exception. She was guarded and she was insecure and she was chagrined and often humiliated by the internal utterance that gripped her tight in lonesome times – I have another love in me, I don’t have another heart to break. Brooklyn didn’t think she could do it again, for all her independence and strength inside she couldn’t bear the thought of losing that again so she didn’t play the game, just sat on the borders and skirmished outside of the boundary of those who came in the name of love. It was a low life on the borders of love and the pursuit of it, lonesome and envious to the core – but safety was born of that loneliness and envy. Brooklyn could be envious of her friends and the love they found, it was easier than being happy for them that was for sure – but – she could be thankful for never having to feel what it was like to carry a broken heart again, never have to mend it… right? Loneliness was a seething thing, it got into every little bit and every little bit didn’t seem so little when each had its stain but somehow she decided it to be the better way, she needed it to be the better way – for her own sake, for her own security out here on the sidelines. –and yet, she was inviting a woman who was urging her toward her old stomping grounds where hearts were shattered an ground to dust with the dreams they aligned till all that remained were nightmares… she was inviting her in, inviting her to take her there, fearless or ignorant she didn’t know but here she was.

“And sometimes you talk like you belong in a cheap porno,” she chuckled back at her, rolling her eyes – though the chuckle and any more jokes that could have come were stifled however when her hand began to roll over her skin so sensitive to the beautiful woman’s touch. What was this all? It felt vaguely familiar like a friend from high school in a grocery store line up… more pleasant, more surreal – a certain giddy sort of excitement making her tingle, making her nipples harden again her flannel top and the chilled air of her apartment. “-and make me feel like I belong in one.” She added ruefully, eyes narrowing slightly as she stared like a predator, sizing up another for that matter as that’s just how Maitreya seemed to her in this moment.

Brooklyn shivered slightly as their lips let, returning the gesture just as tender, small laboured breath flaring her nostrils… when was the last time she felt a kiss like that? –sober no less… it made her spine tingle and admittedly, her petals warm, a small throb making her hips twitch once. Her hand searched blindly to find the mug in Maitreya’s hand and ease it out of her grasp – crossing their forms and placing it on the bedside table as she found herself atop her one-night-stand that felt like much-much-more. She sat with her legs spread, supported by her knees on either side of Maitreya’s lap – bottom just beyond her hips. Brooklyn’s back curled forward, bottom shifting out, arms cradling the woman’s shoulders as she looked down on her affectionately. “I am in awe of you.” She hummed lowly; it was the highest compliment she knew, the highest compliment to pay her she could think of before leaning down and kissing her to the same effect, holding her closer so her shirt parted and her breasts pressed into Treya’s collar and shoulder.

What came next would be less familiar than a friend in the grocery store, “When you leave…” she paused and furrowed her brows, biting the inside corner of her lips in her cheek, the two pink pillows curling almost like those duck faces her stupid college conquests. She grit her teeth and looked down, hesitating, her mind catching up with her lips… she didn’t stop though “Well, I want your number. –I intend to call it.” it almost sounded like some sort of strange courting process she was far from casually acquainted with… all in all, it was clear what she was proposing. –More, even with them agreeing to a few more hours together now.
 
Maitreya's lofty ego swelled at the compliment, a wide smile birthing slowly on her plush lips. Her pleasure was twofold: on the one hand, Brooke's comment was very flattering; on the other, it signalled that the second act of their relationship was in full swing. The orchestra played her own seductive music and the other woman's heart was dancing to the beat, shaking the walls which had surrounded it since the collapse of everything she had shared with Jacqueline. It all seemed so fairy tale to Treya; she the wolf in sheep's clothing, the wolf knocking upon the door of Brooklyn's emotions. Only Brooklyn was no pig to be eaten but a beauty to be lusted after, a tragedy whose story was written in the stars and in the weakened lining of her heart. It needed only to be acted out, and who better than Treya to melt the iron foundations of the love-shy designer?

The velvet heat of warm, naked flesh upon flesh breathed upon their skin as their bodies kissed and mouths locked, tongues reaching for each other like long-lost lovers. Treya moaned appreciatively and her hips pushed upwards, her hands slipping beneath Brooklyn's shirt to caress the smooth warmth of her back, embracing her with palm and forearm alike, as if seeking as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. When the kiss broke, she left her arms where they were and gazed up and into her lover's eyes with molten passion.

"Oh?" One eyebrow arched playfully and on the same side of her face the corner of her mouth curled upwards. "Well I will have to give it to you then," she purred. "I don't think I could deny you anything." She giggled sweetly and her fingers curled against Brooklyn's back, pulling her closer still to lay a kiss upon her lips. "Besides... I would very much like to repeat last night, and I could get used to waking up to this beautiful face."

That much was certainly true, and despite the image she gave of a strong, confident woman, Treya needed people as much as any other. That's not to say that she was not strong or confident, but an actress is lost without an audience or a stage. Every emotion felt by her came through the filter of a role perceived, though there were moments - most commonly before she drifted off to sleep - when the curtain came down and she was alone with herself, and in those moments a sense of futility threatened her vocation. In those moments, there was little more comforting than the warmth of another, particularly if that other bore the ability to make her feel alive behind the stage. Last night, Treya had known the height of living pleasure, and she would know it again with Brooke. She would know it in her scent and in the sweet taste of her upon her tongue; she would know it in toe-curling ecstasy and in the warmth of embrace. In and out of character, she would find comfort in Brooklyn's arms.

Deftly, she rolled herself atop her lover, giggling again and being careful not to bend or catch Brooke's leg beneath her own, and then her tenderness became infused with a fiery lust. Heat burned between her thighs and she pressed herself to the other as flannel fell away from luscious, stiff-nippled breasts. Her hands found the sweatpants which covered those coveted loins and tugged at their waistband as began to trail kisses down the curve of flesh from Brooke's ear to her breasts. If permitted, she would not stop until she lay once more between those silky thighs, and her nimble tongue would again bring her new-found lover to orgasm.
 
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