Lesbian Cowboys (18 page)

“Oh.”

Lou studied her lazily while she deliberated. Really, it would be no hardship to share her swag with this woman. She had a
surprisingly wide, sensual mouth, and compressed energy—the sort that often indicated an enthusiastic bed partner. Lou could imagine her sinewy legs tangled with her own, could imagine her coffee-breath kiss.

The other woman swung back and stuck out a hand. “If we're sharing a swag, at least we should know each other's name. I'm Derrie.”

“Lou.”

Derrie's grip was firm and sure. “Thanks.”

“No worries. Just try and keep your mouth shut.” Lou walked back to the small fire and picked up her cold coffee, throwing dregs onto the ground. “Want a coffee? It's instant, not a skinny mochachino soy milk latte or whatever the hell you normally drink, but it's hot.”

“You're the one who told me to keep my mouth shut.” Derrie picked up the blackened billy lying by the fire and filled it from the waterskin. “Why don't you keep your own obnoxious opinions to yourself? You don't know me at all, but you're judging me by how you perceive I like my coffee.”

Lou stared into the fire, watching the eucalyptus wood, heart-red and glowing. It cracked, the oil within exploding like a whip-crack in the evening. “You're right; you didn't deserve that.”

“I'm not blameless.” Derrie smiled, and her angular face gained an appeal, the warmth suddenly apparent. “Shall we call a truce?”

The billy boiled over in an explosion of steam. Lou picked it off the fire with a forked stick. “Truce. Over coffee. Hope you like it unsweetened and black.”

“I do.”

“Lucky for you!” She held out the mug. “Only got the one. We'll have to share. Pull up a log and sit.”

For a few minutes they were silent, passing the mug back and forth between them. Lou fancied it was warm from more than the coffee. The darkness fell like a blanket in the abrupt way it did on the high plains. The cockatoos wheeled back to roost, and a kookaburra cackled maniacally and then fell silent. Lou threw a handful of gum leaves onto the fire, watching as they flared into flame, their fresh scent filling the air. Standing, she went to check on Ruby hobbled nearby, and to make sure that she could see the dim shapes of Daisy and her calf in the darkness. Kelsey pattered at her heels. Away from the fire, the air was sharp and clean. She stood, listening to the night sounds of the bush: The squawk of a bird; the rhythmic thump of a 'roo disturbed by her scent. The snuffle and blunder of something solid in the undergrowth, a wombat maybe.

Returning to the fire, she stood in the shadows outside the glow watching her uninvited guest. Derrie hunkered on a log, cradling the coffee, her face thoughtful as she stared into the fire. No, not attractive, not her usual sort of woman, but she had a raw appeal, an energy, a leashed passion. And they would share her swag. Lou's stomach fluttered gently in anticipation. “You might have to sleep outside tonight, Kel,” she murmured. “No room for three.”

Back at the fire, she busied herself with the cooking. She turned the spuds in the ashes, and heaped more coals on the top of the Dutch oven already buried in the embers.

“I can contribute some energy bars and chocolate,” Derrie said.

“Chocolate could be good. Lucky I have enough food here. I did an extra spud as Kel likes them.”

“Poor Kel will miss out.” Derrie ruffled the dog's fur.

They ate in silence, sharing the same enamel dish and fork, their backs against a log as they took it in turns to scoop up the
beef stew. When the leftovers had cooled, Lou gave them to Kel, wiping the billy and plates with a handful of grass.

Accepting a piece of chocolate from Derrie, she tilted her face upwards. The swath of stars burned bright in the indigo sky, a ribbon of light grazing the tops of the snowgums, lighting the clearing with its cold glow. The Southern Cross hung low in the sky.

Derrie stirred, rising from her log and stretching. “I'm turning in.”

Lou nodded, unwilling to leave the brilliant night, even for the promise of a warm body aligned with hers. Instead, she stretched out on her back, arms over her head. The coldness of the ground seeped into her body, but she didn't move. Underneath the sky, her favorite time. Overhead, the sky blazed with the weight of the stars. So many stars, so many million pulsating points of light. Lou lay dreaming, gazing through half-closed eyes, until it felt as if the Earth fell away, leaving her suspended in the glowing universe.

It was an hour before she rose and paced over to where the swag humped down on the far side of the fire. She tamped down the fire, made a last check on Ruby, and sent Kel out around the cattle. Kel would alert her if anything was amiss. Shucking her clothes, she rolled them into a ball, and leaving her boots under the hood, she stooped and listened. Derrie's breathing was slow and steady, but Lou sensed she wasn't asleep—her breathing was too careful, too even. There was a tension in the air, an anticipation. What was Derrie wearing in bed? With a thrum of anticipation, she pushed the rolled-up clothes down in the swag, so that they'd be warm and dry for the morning. Carefully, she slid in alongside Derrie. It wasn't easy; the bedroll was narrow, designed for one, and her feet and legs brushed warm flesh.

Derrie was lying on her back. Lou turned on her side, facing
the other woman. Kel pattered back, sliding under the swag's hood, her panting breath on Lou's face as she tried to slide in.

“Outside, Kel,” Lou said, in a low voice.

With a sigh, the blue heeler settled, nose to tail.

Lou propped her head on her hand, studying Derrie. Her features were softened by pools of shadow, her hawk nose and angular cheeks smoothed by the overlay of starlight. Her eyes were open. Lou hesitated; she knew what she wanted, sensed it wouldn't be unwelcome—two strangers thrown into proximity. What more natural than they share their bodies along with the swag? But she didn't want it to be an obligation, rent for the night's accommodation.

Her hand moved over, seeking Derrie, coming to rest on her flat stomach. No T-shirt. That was a good start, but her muscles were drum tight and quivering. Lou slid her hand down, around to Derrie's hip. A thin band of elastic interrupted the flow of fingers over skin. She touched it, slipping beneath, feeling thin skin over sharp bone.

“What are you doing?” Derrie's voice cracked into the night like a whip.

Lou went for broke. “Seducing you.”

Derrie huffed a laugh. “I could just give you fifty bucks for the space if you want payment, although the tourist bureau might have something to say about the standard.”

“It's not payment,” Lou said, carefully feeling her way, even as her fingers dared another inch of skin. “I thought it might be welcomed.” The coil of anticipation in her belly wound a little tighter.

Derrie turned her head and her eyes glittered. “All we do is fight.”

“Then fight me.” Lou held her breath; if she'd been reading this wrong...

With a lunge, Derrie ducked her head, pressing her lips to the crease of Lou's neck and shoulder. Small, sharp teeth nipped her skin, and her breath burned Lou's collarbone. Her hand—surprisingly strong—pressed Lou backwards into the side of the swag.

Lou's breath left her in a rush, and Kel growled a warning.

“It's okay, Kel,” she managed, before her mouth was covered by Derrie's, all hot breath and tongue, all moisture and searching lips. Derrie's hands roamed freely, down from her collarbone, down over the slope of breast, to find a nipple. It peaked sharply against Derrie's fingers.

Derrie rolled and pinched, and the delicious edge of pain sent shafts of delight down deep into Lou's belly. Derrie's mouth suckled hard on her neck, and the bloom of pain spread warmly over her skin. The other woman had the upper hand, and Lou let her take full advantage, moving unresistingly onto her back when Derrie moved further on top. Lean, sinewy legs tangled with Lou's, and she thrilled at the friction of skin on skin; Derrie's thigh moving insistently between her own, her warm flesh pressing on her core.

Lou wrapped one hand into the thick hair that tickled her neck and tugged, forcing Derrie's face up. She was flushed, her mouth open as she panted in the close confines of the swag. With a growl, Lou pulled her face down to her own, and they kissed again, tongues tangling and echoing the thrust and fierceness of their bodies. Lou traced the bumps of Derrie's spine, curving her hand lower, over flat boyish buttocks, as firm and muscular as Ruby's rump. Her slight breasts were mashed into Lou's own fuller ones, her nipples as hard and round as cherry pits.

Now that the invitation was offered and accepted, the urgency muted, sliding seamlessly into a lazy passion. Lou's
world contracted to a dark and secret place of animalistic noises and movement. The swag's hood blocked much of the starlight, leaving the two of them encased in dim shadows and confining cloth. The rustle of the inner sheet sounded harsh and loud, amplified by their closed quarters; and Derrie's breathing, fast and rasping, drowned out the drumbeat of Lou's heart. It was elemental: touch, sound, and smell. Derrie was musky, her hair smoky from the campfire, the sharp tang of eucalyptus, the warm fug of a body that works itself hard.

For long minutes Lou explored, finding the way around Derrie's body, mapping how her palms curved over planes of muscle and flesh, tracing the edge of a breast, the arch of buttock, the wing of hip, and reaching down to find steely muscles and firm, toned thighs. In turn, Derrie's fingers walked their way around Lou's flesh, circling slowly, teasingly, never quite contacting where Lou wanted them the most.

Derrie shifted again, so that the two women lay facing each other. Enough starlight filtered through that Lou could see Derrie's eyes, open and glittering, intent upon her face. Now, she could explore properly. Her fingers sought the other woman's slight breast, tracing the swell, walking in decreasing circles toward her nipple. When she finally reached her goal, her lips followed her fingers, and she shuffled forward, taking the nubbin between her lips, suckling, feeling Derrie's shaky sigh in the hitch of her breathing. Gently, she bit, thrilling at the instinctive arch of Derrie's body toward hers.

Derrie wasn't passive. Her hand tangled in Lou's hair, pulling her up until they could kiss again. Unlike the urgency of their first kiss, this was a dreamy languorous thing, a feather-light touch of heat and starlight. Touch and withdraw, their lips met, tasted, and parted again. Derrie's hand snaked down between their bodies, along the edge of Lou's thigh, reversing direction
and creeping up the inner surface. Caught in the confines of the swag, Lou tried to raise her upper leg, allow the smaller woman better access, but the sheet didn't give, and the best she managed was a small space.

It was enough. Derrie's fingers moved up, moved in, touching hair, stroking her slick folds, and sliding slowly between. One finger, two. Derrie's fingers twisted, pistoning, her thumb rubbing insistently on Lou's clit.

“I wish I could taste you,” Derrie murmured into her mouth. “I wish I could push my mouth against your cunt and lick you until you came.”

“Oh, yes,” breathed Lou, “do it, please.”

“No room,” said Derrie, succinctly, and her fingers insinuated themselves farther into the slick channel.

In between the coils of feeling, the spiraling pressure in her belly, Lou could appreciate the skillful fingers. Derrie was intent on discovery, and Lou gave herself over to the sensations. Her hands clenched on Derrie's hips as she ground onto her fingers, letting the pressure build until she overflowed in an explosion of climax, as fast and fierce and gushing as a mountain creek.

Derrie pulled her fingers from Lou's cunt, bringing them up to her lips. “Sweet,” she murmured, as she licked them clean.

As her heartbeat returned to normal, Lou wrapped her arms around the other woman, aligning their bodies tightly. Dipping her head, she explored the curve of neck and shoulder, letting her lips drift over her skin. It was warm in the confines of the swag, and she tasted salt, smelled the grassy tang of fresh sweat.

“Turn around,” she murmured, pushing on Derrie's hip until she complied.

Derrie's buttocks pushed backwards into her thighs, and Lou raised her own so that they were spooned tightly together. Now she had the entire sweet package to explore at her leisure.
Her hands glided smoothly from shoulder, around and over her breasts, down to the thick patch of hair between her thighs.

Derrie shuddered in her arms. “Get on with it,” she said, tightly.

“Impatient.” A smile curved her mouth, and she nuzzled aside the wiry hair and rested her lips on the nape of Derrie's neck. Deliberately, she combed through the hair between her lover's thighs, parting the coarse curls, tickling lightly on her pussy lips.

Derrie's buttocks pushed insistently back once more, her body coiled and tight against Lou's own.

Taking pity, Lou cupped her mound, pushing her fingers firmly into the thicket, parting her folds to delve between. Derrie's clit was a rigid pearl, slick and hot. Lou circled lightly, not knowing how heavy a touch the other woman liked.

Derrie's hand jerked down, pressing over Lou's, forcing a firmer feel. Emboldened, Lou rubbed harder, spreading her creamy moisture around, until Derrie stiffened, her heels drumming into Lou's calves with an urgent, staccato beat. Her sigh was loud in the musky darkness, a long susurration of completion. Gently, she lifted Lou's hand from her cunt, cupping it with her own, holding it against her breast.

Lou curled up again around her lover, and settled in for sleep.