Novel Experience (Sara Miles) (4 page)

She nearly dives into my breasts while my fingers are still fumbling with my own bra. Her hands slip back behind me and do that work for me, freeing my fingertips to glide down her back. My bra comes off. I’m expecting her to attack me greedily with her mouth—longing for her to, really—but instead she leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. I return the kiss, lingering there for a moment, feeling her hair tickle the tops of my bare shoulders.

Her shirt and bra come off. Her breasts are smaller even than mine, but creamy white and smooth with dark, small nipples—each of which has a small metal stud pierced through it.

“Mmmm,” I moan, letting my fingers savor the feel of cold metal and hot skin.

She climbs on top of me, and our breasts touch. I can feel the light, delicate pressure of her nipples against my skin, and the added sensation of cold metal. Just the thought of them makes me even wetter.

My hands play along her thighs, pushing her skirt up higher. Her hands unfasten my pants. She slides a hand inside, and I cry out.

“Is this alright?” she asks.

“Oh, it’s
fantastic
,” I answer, and lower myself onto the couch so she has better access. She pushes my pants down past my hips, exposing my black lace panties. Slowly she slips a hand into them, finding my damp cleft. She rests her hand there, making just the smallest movement with her fingers. I breathe out heavily. It’s driving me just a little bit crazy.

One of my hands reaches up to play with a pierced nipple while the other finds her panty-clad pussy. I’m fascinated by the stud in her nipple—I can’t stop brushing it with my fingers. It’s a sensation she seems to enjoy immensely. Her panties are damp, which makes me smile. I rub her through them, enjoying the feeling of her hard clit beneath my fingers.

“I want to taste you,” I say.

She gives me a simmering look, grins, then stands up. Sitting on the edge of the couch, I run my hands up her slim, taut thighs. She lower her panties slightly, and I press my mouth to her, tonguing her lips open gently. She’s shaved smooth and slick.

“Oh, that feels great,” she says. Her hands are in my hair, pulling me tight against her. She’s sweet as honey, and I try to taste every bit of her. She squirms against me, and her panties fall away completely. I lose myself in her, letting my hands caress everything within reach—her legs, her back, her ass. I can feel her legs weakening, trembling, as my tongue finds its target. I suck her clit into my mouth, tickling it with my lips.

She pulls away, face red and chest heaving. She pushes me back onto the couch. My legs open, and she climbs gracefully atop me. Gently, she presses her pussy against mine, then with more vigor. We’re both slick and hot, and the friction of our bodies together makes me shiver with pleasure.

I grab her ass with both hands and pull her tight against me. She exhales a deeply held breath and bites her lip. She’s grinding against me now, her pace increasing. With every thrust of her hips, her nipples brush against mine. She presses her forehead against mine, and through a tangle of hair I see her eyes full of lustful intensity, and wonder if mine are as sharp and eager as hers. Our hot breath mingles in moans and cries.

I get there first, and my sudden climax sends her over the edge. We grind fast and hard, our bodies sweating with effort, my fingers pressed deep into the firm flesh of her ass.

“Oh god, oh god!” she cries, over and over, and god only knows what I’m saying in the sheer chaos of the moment. The moment stretches out thin and taut, and it might be a minute or an hour, and I don’t care. My body seems to flash into a thousand pinpricks of fire, with every movement pouring more and more heat into me until every nerve screams.

And suddenly we’re done. Theresa collapses on top of me, hot and limp and breathing in gasps and torrents, still shuddering from the cataclysm we shared. She seems smaller, even, than before, as though I’ve somehow used up a part of her. She catches her breath a moment, looks up and me and together we laugh the laugh of the satisfied.

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, THERESA IS
getting dressed beside the couch. It’s well after midnight, on a Wednesday. Although I guess it’s officially Thursday now. I recognize—a bit belatedly—that she’s probably got work in the morning.

“I’m sorry to keep you here so late,” I say. Then I smile. “Not
too
sorry, but you know what I mean.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, buttoning her blouse. “I’ll call out sick, maybe. I never do that. They can’t complain.”

“I didn’t intend this, you know,” I say. Why am I feeling apologetic? I can’t help it. “I had no idea you were ...”

“Into women?”

“It’s not the sort of thing you just go up to someone and say. And, to be honest, when I came into the office the other week, I couldn’t remember your name.”

The look on her face tells me she’s not surprised.

“You had that deer-in-the-headlights looks that people get when they should know you but don’t remember. I get that a lot.”

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, on impulse. I’m curious. She works at a publisher. She must read lots of books. “Why did the Clara Barton books appeal to you?”

“Oh, those? I don’t know. I liked to think that I was better than those women. They were so lost. They needed someone to put them right. I liked your book better.”

Of course she’d say that. She’s in my bedroom. And still half-naked. My stomach clenches slightly. “What do you think of the men in my book?”

Now it’s her turn for the deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Don’t worry,” I add quickly. “I can take criticism.” I think.

“They’re ... a little pathetic. I mean, I understand why someone like Nara would end up with Peter. But I liked her more than him. She was so overpowering, and he just didn’t stand a chance. When I read the book, I kept picturing you. I know Nara is supposed to look different—blonde and tall and imperious. But I kept seeing you instead. Oh, now I’ve offended you.”

“No, no,” I say, but I’m lying. “That’s ... helpful.”

Dammit, it’s not helpful. I wanted her to say something that I could bring back to Thane that I could use as a blunt object of ridicule. Instead she’s given me a wet herring of self-bludgeoning.

“So, when you were reading
that scene
,” I ask, turning a bit red. “You were imagining
me
with the strap-on?”

“Mmm hmm,” she says, with a mischievous smile.

“And...”

“You weren’t giving it to Peter, let me tell you.”

“You are a dirty girl!”

“Hey! You wrote that chapter, not me.”

“You’re calling in tomorrow, right?” I give her a playful slap on the butt.

“I just got dressed!”

“I think I can fix that.”

[FOUR] Crowds

I"M NOT A FAN OF
barbecues, but with spring in full swing and the warm weather kicking in, Gail and Danny have decided it’s time to open their pool and invite neighbors over. They extend the invite to me as well, despite my edgy reputation, and even go so far as to suggest I bring a plus-one. Theresa agrees to come with me.

“We’re not dating,” I tell Gail the first moment we’re alone. “So don’t go there.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Gail says, and for a moment I wonder if her opinion of women has changed a bit in the intervening months since our last naked encounter. “She’s got to be ten years younger than us.”

“Jeeze, Gail, we’re not
that
old. She’s maybe five or six years younger,” I say. “And we’re not dating. We’re just friends.”

“I’m not blind, Sara,” she says, giving me a look of haughty derision. “You don’t have to be worried about me. I don’t care. Hell, I doubt even Danny would care. He leaves that stuff at Mass most of the time.”

“So, you told him.”

“That you like girls? He’s my husband. I tell him everything.”

“Gail...”

“Whine, whine, whine. He doesn’t care,” she says, waving her hand at me impatiently, as if I were a fly buzzing around her head. “If I thought he cared, I probably wouldn’t have said anything.”

“My parents don’t even know!”

“Get out of the closet, already. Is being secretive about being bi considered ‘in the closet’? Or is there some other euphemism? It’s not like you’re
completely
gay. They still have a chance of having grandchildren, right? That’s all your mom would care about.”

“And to think, you’re one of my more tolerant friends,” I say with a wry smile. She doesn’t get it, clearly, but then I’m not sure I know anyone who would get it better.

Danny approaches with two drinks in hand, one of which he hands to Gail with a peck on the cheek, and the other he hands to me. I watch for some sign of either judgment or lewd insinuation, but there’s nothing. It’d just Danny being Danny. I sigh internally—I need to stop expecting the worst out of men.

“Mango vodka,” he says. “Your friend suggested it was something you like. What’s her name again?”

“Theresa,” I say.

“She’s cute,” he says. He gives me an uncertain look. “Are you two...”

I blush deeply. “We’re not a couple!”

My words come out a little too loudly, but thankfully there’s no one close enough by to overhear it.

“How’s the book coming?” he asks. At least he can take a hint, unlike Gail—who rolls her eyes at her husband’s obvious change of topic.

“It’s a process of pure hell, with intermittent periods of excruciating torture,” I answer, then down a gulp of vodka. I used to think the cliche of alcoholic writers was ridiculous, but suddenly reconsider it, given the circumstances.

“And this new editor of yours that Gail tells me about?”

“He’s a hard ass. It makes my job a lot more difficult than it should be.”

“I’m looking forward to reading it, when it’s done,” he says.

“Are you gonna read the whole thing this time, or should I send you a copy with a note listing all the
interesting
parts?”

Dammit, I’m being a smart-ass again, and the words a bit more cutting than I intend. I wince. I need to think before I speak. Too late now, though.

“I’ll read the whole thing. I actually liked
Thirty Hour Day
, once I managed to convince myself to read it. I know a guy like Peter at work. Middle-management. Think’s he’s God’s gift. Real jackass. Could use a little ... you know. Discipline.”

Double dammit, would people stop telling me that Thane is right? But here’s Danny telling me that he actually read and enjoyed my book, after I basically called him a knuckle-draging Neanderthal, right to his face. For a prudish, Mass-attending nut, he’s actually a nice guy. Which I knew, already, but have a hard time accepting. Why’s he got to go around puncturing my nice, comfortable little prejudices?

He’s rendered the smart-ass writer speechless, which I think makes him more uncomfortable than it makes me. He smiles, nods, then walks back to the grill. I allow myself a quick peek at his ass.

“Did you just check out my husband?” Gail asks, with feigned reproach.

“I sure did,” I admit. “He let you go there yet?”

“Very funny,” she says, poking me hard in the shoulder with a bony finger once, then twice more. “For someone who seems so obsessed with taking offense at people’s interest, you seem awfully ready to prod people about it.”

“Alright, alright. It’s just my way of asking if your hang-ups have sorted themselves out.”

“We’re ... gradually sorting things out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re trying some new things.”

I’m shocked! Happily so. “So you
have
gone there!”

“Now’s not the best place for this,” she says in a harsh whisper.

“Yeah, but it’s alright to give me a hard time about dildos and strap-ons over lunch?”

“Jeeze, Sara, alright!” she whines. “Just, not around
these
people. And no, we haven’t gone
there
. We’ve just talked about it a little. And some other things. You know, like fantasies.”

“Oh, really? And what dark desires did you discover?”

“Like I said.
Not here
.”

“Fine,” I say, reluctantly. The whole exchange has my libido turned up a notch. My skin is feeling like it’s a size too small.

“Your friend seems awfully friendly with Danny,” Gail says, with a smirk.

“Danny’s hot, and she’s ... well, let’s just say she’s
ready to go
. Frequently.”

“At least I know you’re finally getting something regularly.”

It’s the use of the word “finally” that digs. “It’s not like that. We’re not dating.”

“Really? So you’re not .. you know.”

“Well, maybe a little. But we’re not dating. We’re friends.”

“With benefits?”

I cringe. “God, I hate when people say that.”

“So,
yes
.” I roll my eyes, and Gail barks a laugh.

“You don’t have to worry about her going after Danny.”

“She’s full-on gay, then?”

“No, she’s just not that kind of girl. She reminds me of Danny sometimes. I think she must have been a sweet little Catholic girl at one point. She’s pretty reserved most of the time, but once she lets loose, look out.”

“Sounds like you’re having a lot of fun.”

“The book takes up most of my time.”

“Almost done, then?”

“Pfft. Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Thane’s giving you a hard time?”

“The shitty thing is that he’s making the book better,” I say. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever said it out loud, let alone admitted it to anyone else. It actually feels good to free myself of it. “And yes, it’s almost done. Another month, and then it’ll be off to the powers that be.”

“How long ‘til we can buy it?”

“Awhile. But I’ll give you a copy when it’s done.”

Danny and Theresa saunter over through the small crowd of hot-dog munching suburbanites in short-sleeved polos and sun-dresses. Next to Danny’s tall, lean bulk, Theresa resembles a pixy. The neighbor kids are all playing in the pool, splashing about. It’s entirely too close to a church-social vibe for my tastes, even if the people are all pleasant in their mundane ways. None of them have brought up strap-ons with me. Strangely enough, I’m both pleased and a bit disappointed by this. I crave more adult topics of discussion.

“Theresa was just telling me how much she’s liking your new book,” Danny says. “I’m jealous that I can’t read it yet.”

“Well, it’s not finished. And how did you get a copy?” I ask, turning to Theresa.

“Karen let me see the first couple hundred pages.”

“Anything hot and taboo in there?” Gail asks.

“Mmm, a few things.” Theresa is making eyes at Gail, and I have a hard time not smirking. Gail stammers a moment, and her face blooms red. “What, Sara hasn’t let you read it?”

“No, she’s a miser when it comes to pages. She didn’t let me read
Thirty Hour Day
until two days before it came out! She made me practically
beg
for it.”

“That sounds familiar,” Theresa says, raising an eyebrow at me.

Danny snorts at this, nearly spilling his drink.

“Come on, Sara! Didn’t you tell them about the orgy?”

I narrow my eyes at her and tilt my head. Unless someone’s added a chapter I don’t know about, there’s no orgy in my book.

“An orgy? I thought you’d go for something a bit more tame this time around,” Gail says.

I did, actually. There’s sex, but it’s not nearly as explicit. Except the lesbian scene I wrote for my protagonist, not-so-loosely based on Theresa and my first encounter. And for the first time I’m realizing that Theresa has probably now read that scene, and knows exactly where the sexual choreography came from. I give her a look, accompanied by a blush. I perceive that this is her way of getting revenge on me for it.

“I decided to double down,” I lie. What the hell, I might as well see it through. “It’s pretty crazy. Girls with girls, men with men. I think there’s even a donkey.”

Danny shakes his head. “Stop. Even I can tell she’s just giving you a hard time."

“You’re no fun.”

“He looks like fun to me,” Theresa says.

“I thought you said I didn’t have to worry about her,” Gail laughs.

“Maybe I was wrong.
”

The sun goes down, the kids get out of the pool, and people eat. They chat about school and church and sports and fundraisers. Danny and Gail seem only marginally less bored than I am, but at least these are their friends. Or neighborhood acquaintances, at least. Eight o’clock comes, and they’re all itching for bed, and begin to leave. Soon it’s just the four of us sitting around the pool.

“I could lend you a suit,” Gail says.

“Nah, it’d be too small.”

“You could skinny dip,” Theresa suggests.

“Yeah, Sara,” Gail tweaks. “Why not?”

“You’re crazy,” is all I can manage to say.

“What about you, Theresa? Want to borrow a suit?”

“No, I don’t need one,” she says. She stands up and drops her dress. She’s wearing nothing underneath. In a graceful, slow motion, she dives head-first into the pool.

“Alrighty, then,” Gail says, her eyes a bit wide. Danny is too busy gawking in the direction of the pool to be able to form a coherent sentence.

“You were talking about fantasies?” I’m smirking wildly. “Looks like Danny just got one of his.”

“We talked about having a threesome,” Gail says, quietly. “You know, just playing around with the idea. After you mentioned it, I kinda thought maybe he’d like to, you know, talk about it while we were in bed. He seemed to take to the idea well enough.”

“He’s a guy,” I say, shrugging.

“Yeah, well. He seemed to like the idea of watching me with another woman.”

“And?”

“The more we talked about it, the hotter it sounded.” She turned to put herself between us and Danny. “I’m just not sure about sharing him with anyone. I’m not jealous or anything, it’s just, you know ... he’s
mine
.”

I cover a laugh with a tight-lipped smile. “Then just let him watch. If you’re worried about it. It’d be like live porn.”

“It’s a little more than that!”

“For you. He’d be alright with you being with a woman?”

“I think so. Not with another guy, though. Not that I want to.”

“I think the lady doth protest too much.” She gives me the evil eye, so I back off. “You’ve told him about ... you and me?”

“I tell him everything.”

“He wasn’t pissed off about it?”

“No, it just made him as hard as a rock,” she giggles. “And so he says, afterward, ‘You know, she’s really hot.’ 
”

I gawk at her. “You mean, me?”

“Yeah. You should have seen him. It was like he was revealing this dark secret.”

“I’m not hot.”

“Sure. Whatever. Maybe it’s the red hair. Anyway, I hope you don’t mind. We kinda ... fantasized together about it. About you with us.”

It’s dark outside, and in the low light I hope she can’t see my reaction. “No, I don’t mind. I’ve fantasized about the same thing.”

“You and Danny?”

“The three of us. He’s got a nice body, what can I say?” I shift in my seat. “I never thought it would ever happen. I mean, it’s
Danny
.”

“Now it’s
you
protesting too much.”

“I love you both, you know that. I’m not going to suggest anything that would cause trouble.”

Her face becomes suddenly serious. “So, you’d be open to the idea?”

I give her a hard look and try and decide if she’s being serious or just prodding. Everything I know about her is saying that she can’t possibly be thinking about it, but our conversation so far hasn’t exactly been whimsical. Theresa’s in the pool naked, and Gail hasn’t made a fuss.

“You know what? Sure. I’d be open to it.”

Gail growls. The indecision is plain on her face.

“How about this: you guys watch us. We watch you. Just dip a toe in the pool a bit first, and see where things go.”

“You’ve done this before.”

I laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” she says.

“I think we both are.”

* * *

THERESA ISN"T THE SLIGHTEST BIT
self-conscious—and why should she be? Her body is smooth and tight and gorgeous, as opposed to my more generous curves. She’s toweled herself mostly dry, but her skin still retains that slight bit of dampness that catches the tips of my fingers as I brush them down her arms. Gail and Danny sit across from us, close together. Gail’s hand is on his thigh, and I can’t help but notice the substantial bulge in his pants. Gail’s expression is suspended between lust and discomfort. I had warned Theresa that this whole situation was somewhat out-on-a-ledge for all of us, but it didn’t bother her at all. I wonder where her confidence comes from.

I lay back, and Theresa straddles me, her fingers unbuttoning my shirt, then opening it. I’ve been naked in front of Gail countless times, but for some reason this time I’m more self-conscious. Maybe it’s the young, naked women on top of me. I remember that first time Gail and I ever masturbated together, and it’s like that—only heightened. Then it was just a matter of being a bit too self-critical of my body (and I looked better then than I do now), but now it’s a confusing melange of self-consciousness and pleasure. And then I recognize the familiarity of it—it’s like when I’m standing there as someone reads my book. It’s letting someone into a part of your life normally kept private. It’s a knife’s edge of eagerness and anxiety.