LESBIAN
TIME

by M. Guerriere aka Absinthe Angel 777 © 2003. All Rights Reserved.

Westport, Connecticut  Friday 6:15 pm

I was halfway up the driveway of a well-hidden palatial home before the presence of my hostess for the evening really struck me. Sitting beside me was the one and only Jackie O - Jacqueline Austin, 5’9, 38 years old, tall and lean with an immaculately blonde coif, the kind that only seems to grace the heads of CNN news goddesses. 

Jackie O  - investment analyst by day, sassy, saucy, women’s chat room moderator by night.  Jackie O, the epitome of overachieving cool control.  Her reputation evident in the way she shifted the highly polished burlwood knob of her Lexus transmission to compensate for the steep driveway.  Jackie O, the O was for orgasm, a state one achieved by her sheer personal electricity.

Jackie smiled and bolted from the vehicle’s plush interior with ultra swift grace.  I grabbed my purse and overnight bag attempting to keep up with her already dominating pace.  Up the steps on the sunlit front deck was a sleek, statuesque  figure, chatting "Sweetie Darling" on a cell phone.  Jackie ran up and kissed her on the cheek.  The woman flipped the sleek aluminum transmitter closed and returned the quick embrace.

Passing low Asian inspired shrubbery, I was three quarters of the way up the wooden deck stairs and already Jackie was introducing me.

"Anna hon, this is Satine! "

The gorgeous and stately brunette beamed in my direction and extended a long, manicured hand.  The hand was unusually long for a woman and then I quickly remembered being told that Anna had long ago experienced transgender metamorphosis. A miracle of modern science; Anna fluttered slowly and hypnotically like an Amazon butterfly. Her beauty was liquid and psychedelic.

In a slightly different setting, Anna would have appeared to be a model or perhaps a suburban trophy wife of the highest caliber who still retained her allure in spite of being married. Yet Anna was far from just a gorgeous face.  She was a brilliant ad copy writer in her own right who earned luxury of working from home.   Anna and Jackie were high maintenance, high energy, all business, perfectly matched.

"You are cute!  Much more attractive than your photo!  I love your hair!  Twelve years ago, I would have had you for myself!"  Anna winked admiringly as her sultry, almond brown eyes scanned my freshly blonde-streaked straightened hair and lingered too long on my breasts.  My breasts, where eyes always lingered too long.  There was a reason she was the mate of the leader and the chill up my back and the thrill below my navel was more than enough proof.

"Jackie!" Anna’s voice burst in a scolding blurt "My God! Help this girl with her bag!"

Jackie rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, looked at the sky and frowned at the oncoming clouds.  She grabbed my overnight bag before I could protest and opened the door to home. "Look at the time! I hope the rest get here soon!"

I followed the pair into a very light,  elegant contemporary living room, that featured an expansive open kitchen, floor to ceiling windows and a marble fireplace.

"Time!" Anna muttered as she made her way back into a modern stainless steel kitchen. I presume from Anna’s body language that the kitchen was her absolute domain.  "You’re always on about time!  Look at those clouds darling!"  A polished red nail directing our attention with a fork out the back windows.

Prodding the chicken with fork and thermometer the bird was undergoing a thorough inspection.  "We’re on lesbian time now Miss Jackie!  Not stock exchange time and I swear if you turn that TV onto the stock reports even once this weekend, you can expect to sleep with a photo of Maria Bartiromo, not me!"

Jackie pursed her lips and laughed, blushing, not fighting the feisty kitchen goddess who chastised her.  Jackie put her hand on my arm and changed the tone. "So Satine…how’s the job search going?"

I bit my lip as the two lovely and concerned women honed in for an answer.  The doorbell rang and I did a private, thankful collapse as their attention focused away.

"Billie!" Jackie squealed and devoured a fresh-faced, slightly older woman with a huge hug.

"We didn’t think you’d make it!" Anna kicked off her sandals and ran barefoot across the sand-colored rug towards the newcomer.

I spun around and grabbed the back of the plush leather couch to take in a stocky woman of 5’3, salt and pepper styled short hair in a denim jacked bearing white boxes tied with candy-cane colored string.

"Cake! We adore cake!" Jackie exclaimed, "I adore you! Billie this is Angelique also known as  Satine!"

"Satine! Satine!"  Anna laughed and commandeered the pastry boxes back to the kitchen.  "We will never remember these real names!"

Billie approached me and shook my hand "Jackie, you’re killing me!  You have better pastries sitting on your couch than I brought you in the box!"  Recovering politely Billie offered me a stout, well-trimmed handshake, "Pleased to meet you, Satine.  Don’t mind me but as a writer I describe beauty as I see it!"  She chuckled and called loudly "I need a cigarette! "

"You’d like to get into her box!"  Jackie joked with Billy and started to light up a Marlboro light with Billie.

"Out!" Anna screamed "Outside with those! Damn things!"  Anna demurely opened the sliding door to the back porch.

Jackie smirked.  "We were just going there!  The Queen has spoken!"

Billie nodded, cigarette in hand and smacked Anna playfully on her spray-painted denim behind, lingering to cop a feel. "Ohhh, young stuff! Mmmmmmm!"  Both women laughed hysterically and retired to the rear deck.

"Satine, Help me with the plates?"  Anna asked hopefully from the kitchen.

I bolted up grateful for the chance at something to do.  We laid out a beautiful blue Mikasa setting.

"I never get to use these and I just love them."  Anna sighed.  "I’m so glad you came.  Connecticut gets so lonely sometimes.  It’s just antiques and farms and antiques and farms out here most times."

"It’s beautiful out here.  Your home is lovely. I live back in Queens in a dingy apartment."

"Yes, but you are so close to the city and all that interaction." Anna studied me "Something about  you. You’re like a little Beyonce with a figure!  I like it.  Angelique is that French?"

"Yes." I acknowledged her question and her compliment, "My mother is African-American Creole and my father is German.  I was born in Paris, and I lived right near the Moulin Rouge, in fact, for the first 3 years of my life!  Then my parents got divorced and Mom came back to the US to live near her brother in New Brunswick.  Essentially I grew up in New Jersey."

"Which explains the name "Satine" and your fabulous looks.  I’m jealous. Moulin Rouge, how exciting!"

The doorbell rang and I offered to get it.  As I opened the door, I was greeted with strong arms and a brutish kiss but I know not by who.  Hysterical laughter from outside the door broke the moment and I was dropped to the side by the closet.  A bleached blond, spiky haired, overly muscled tank-topped butch with an olive complexion had just accosted me and threw me away like a Dixie cup.

"Who are you?" she teased and pushed her way in, "I love you! Thanks for the ride!"

An Asian woman in a dramatic tight red blouse clutched her chest from laughter and gasped for air. I was the prop in a joke. The giggler was "Tamara", a Japanese-Irish valley gurl from Los Angeles who lusted to work on Fashion Avenue and can speak of nothing but her new red Mitsubishi Eclipse and deals procured at designer sample sales.  The peroxide gorilla who thrust their tongue down my throat was none other than the infamous "Whip".

Whip, radical, leather girl  from "Dyke Slope"  met Tamara when she delivered a package to her design house.  After a one night stand they were truly just friends.  Whip’s body was like a rock.  As a bicycle messenger from New York City she was in fantastic shape.  I regained my sanity as the two overpowered the room.  I watched Billie nearly choke on her drink.  The immediate energy between Billie and Whip crackled like the lightning burning the sky.

The room now filled with girl talk and comments on the rain. I studied the texture of the low pile shag carpet while Jackie worriedly looked at her Cartier watch.  "8:25! I wonder where the rest are".  Anna began serving the food and chatting with Tamara.  Whip’s cell phone rang loudly and she spouted a response in machine gun Spanish the bulk of which no one could get a hold of. The call was from her mother.

"I’m with my friends! I’m all right, OK?  I love you! Bye!"  Whip waited as the woman on the other end rattled on "Bye! Bye…..bye…..Mommy….Bye!  I’m hanging up the phone now!  Mom! " She laughed again "Bye!".

One would never have taken Whip for a Mama’s girl but there it was.  Billie picked up on that little chink in the big butch’s armor and went right in for the kill.  Within seconds she had Whip’s attention again.  Billie was smooth and as silver tongued as the steamy lesbian romances she wrote about.

Jackie guided everyone to the buffet that was far more elaborate than anyone could have expected.  I was starving and just as I was able to put some mixed vegetables on my plate, there was a peel of motorcycle and hard rapping on the door.

Now paranoid I called out to anyone who’d hear me." Oh no! I’m not getting the door again!  You do it!’

Jackie stepped forward taking her turn at the highly polished mystery door. Shaking off the rain from a slickered all weather suit was Crash.  Crash, the jerk.  Crash who posted a zillion photos in a thread and until your computer froze…well….until it crashed.  Crash, unlovable, irresponsible meathead, who gave up skateboarding for something safer - an old BMW motorcycle.   Crash kissed Jackie and Anna and upon seeing Whip screamed, "Duuuuuuuude!"

They high-fived each other and I figured it had been all of 2 hours since they last emailed.

"Fuck man, it’s pouring.  Give me something to eat!"  Crash demanded.  Billie was in heaven around two young muscular thugs. Tamara who had never met Crash before was totally intrigued by the thought of rubbing up against a cyclone she didn’t necessarily have to remain friends with.

Tamara winked, lingered too long with Crash’s rough, callused hands and in true femme calculation dropped her attention from her potential suitor and immediately back to work. "I like… SO have to show you these designs!" Tamara blurted out to Anna.  "I have them on my laptop.  You wanted new styles, these are IT!  Look at this dress!"

Crash’s eyes bulged and she scowled in frustration at the power exchange.  Tamara had won this round with one punch.

"What? What?" Jackie’s ears pricked up at the thought of anything cutting edge.

Tamara spoke, always touching the flat part of her breastbone for punctuation in between bites.  "I have next years Spring line of clothes!  On my laptop! I can get it for you now!"

Voices behind the front door, through the rain.  Laughing.  Anna went to the door before they even rang the bell.  Close cropped hair, beautiful Nubian complexion and a smile that lit up a room…it was Hapi or Hapshetsut as she was formerly handled.   Big hug for Anna.

"We had a flat tire.  But it’s all better now!  Hello! Hello! Hello!"

Hapi, finally someone I knew well.

"Little sis!" she put her fingers in my hair and shook my head teasingly.  "Holy shit that’s your real hair?  Damn it’s beautiful!"  She strutted and smoothed her nearly bald, cocoa brown hair.  "However, I like this style!"  She swung her non-existent tresses around like a mock Cover Girl.  "Before sex! After sex! Before sex! After sex!  I always look hot and ready for action!"

Everyone cracked up.  The woman behind her was a tangle of long, wet hair and a black leather jacket.  Not too tall, not too short, not to thin or brawny - a perfect medium. She nodded and put the bags down.  Wiping the rain out of her face, she took a deep breath and absorbed the occupants of the room.

"Look at the wet rat!"  Whip cackled and Crash spit up her drink laughing.

"Hello Whip….Crash. Always good to know you’re competent enough to find a place on a map."  The dry humor was familiar but I didn’t know why.

"Banshee ran over a bottle to get me into a compromising position!" Hapi explained, "But the only thing she was going to lay under tonight was the belly of her car!"

Now I knew why. Banshee, tech-head, who had been too many places, seen too many things, and had way too many opinions.  I expected the worst.  Yet there was something non-expressive and mysterious about her standing there in very plain form fitting jeans and an equally plain black T-shirt.

"Banshee, sweetheart! You’re late! Eat!"  Anna implored of her guest and shoved a plate in her hands.

Somehow in the commotion I realized I wasn’t formally introduced to everyone. I was starting to feel terrifically out of place. Was I too young?  No, Crash and I were the same age. Was I too shy or immature? Inevitably I was treated like a child where as even younger people were recognized as adults.  Perhaps they were taller or louder.  Frustrated but determined to remain polite, I continued to eat and listen to the colorful cast of characters exchange jibes and flirtations.

We sat around throughout the night eating and talking.  Banshee sat next to me on the couch on the left.  She responded when she was spoken to and although she could explain something in depth I realized she actually very quiet. We had a common bond, silence.

"Don’t you think she looks like Beyonce?" Anna started on me again in front of the assembled crew.

Crash and Whip got up to shake their butts and bellies and dance in front of me laughing., grinding their cargo pants crotches in my face. Some agreed, some disagreed.  Tamara and Hapi laughed out loud, "You bois are crazy!"  Whip and Crash were totally enthralled by their own ability to be court jesters.

Banshee’s eyes studied my reaction soundlessly from the corners of her eyes.  I tried to be a good sport but I was totally embarrassed.

"I need a cigarette!" Billy chimed and cut through the dead air. "I know! The porch! The porch! We’re going to the porch!"

In a flash of Matrix jujitsu, Banshee grabbed the back of my neck and pushed the leering bois away.  I was being controlled, guided through the living room towards the shelter of the back porch and a rainy, but spectacular night forest view.

Banshee silently withdrew into herself for a moment.  She released me and her blue eyes scanned me with an almost mechanical precision. In an instant I felt so cold.  I almost wanted to cry.  I was not having fun but the fresh air was better than being groped.  I desperately wanted contact of another kind but couldn’t think of how in the world to ask for it.

Jackie pleasantly handed Banshee, Billie and myself a glass of  bubbly white wine.  I sipped it.  Delicious.  I sighed with relief.

Banshee winked and toasted us all, glasses clinked.  I drank and the heady, sweet concoction was ambrosia!  For all the poetry in my head, I could only utter a single word "Wow."

 "Veuve Cliquot La Grand Dame"  Banshee looked into my eyes briefly then into the glass.  "Special occasion.  We don’t get together that often."

"Gina!" Hapi touched Banshee’s shoulder, "Baby, you know how to pick champagne!  I need this!  You don’t know how I need this!  When Marisa comes home from her Pathology convention in Miami, she is totally getting this and a bubble bath and I am having one wild time!"

Lots of information here.  Banshee’s name was really Gina and Hapi is not with her but is coupled with a Pathology specialist on a business trip named Marisa. Interesting.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tamara pinch Crash’s nipples and the daredevil’s knees buckle in response.  She also won round two or is this round three? Who could keep track?

"Angelique, put a smile on your face." Hapi coaxed me.  "Keep my girl Banshee company before she starts thinking about politics and tears us all a new asshole."   Hapi smiled and pinched Banshee’s cheek playfully as she walked back into the kitchen

"I love you, cuteums!  You got a good looking woman here, talk to her!"  Hapi stared Banshee in the eyes seriously and cupped a hand around her pale cheek, a gentle but firm pat punctuating each word. "Talk….to…..her".  The hand retreated but she didn’t break gaze. "Oh god, you are the undead sometimes".

Blowing out a puff of hot air, Hapi took it upon herself to introduce or re-introduce us. "Angelique this is Gina.  Gina this is Angelique.  You have to excuse Gina, Angie, she’s not very experienced with women. Ha ha!"

I wasn’t sure if this comment was sarcastic or true and my eyes widened in temporary disbelief. Billie overheard that comment and giggled into her nearly empty glass.  "Inexperienced my ass."

Hapi quipped back at Billie "Yeah, she told me about your ass.  She tells me about everybody’s ass!"

That got a small laugh from Banshee. Hard to tell her expression as her hair sometimes covered her eyes. It was really I who was totally inexperienced. I lied my way into that chat site. I said I had two relationships with women, all lies. I did have four boyfriends, each one pathetic in his own way. I knew my lack of success with men reinforced my lack of basic chemistry with them. I didn't belong with the male sex and I knew it. So I picked one idiot after another. Secretly, I never wanted those relationships to go right. I sabotaged each and every one of them. Was I a wanna be lesbian? Would they know? Would they find out? Did I need a reason? Did I have to legitimize myself in front of these people? I just don't know.

Night turned into more early morning and women fell asleep where they might.  Though the home was expansive, there weren’t enough bedrooms for us all.  Some camped out in the den.  Banshee offered to sleep on the living room floor as she was used to a futon anyway.  Not fast on the draw enough to claim a bed, I got the very comfortable living room couch.

I had nearly gotten into REM sleep before Crash was abruptly shaking me awake and half the women were already making breakfast and the radio was blaring. That Saturday the caravan of us took in Connecticut’s antiques, landscapes and shopping.  Anna and Jackie escorted us into a fantastically ornate Chinese restaurant that one would never associate with the rural Northeast.  We took the smorgasbord back home with our assorted shopping bags.

A short time later, as we were all relaxing, trying each dish and savoring the wonderful flavors, Jackie made note of her best chat friend’s absence.

"Hapi, I’m so sorry Marisa couldn’t make it.  I had photos to show her of our trip to Italy."  Jackie squeezed Anna’s hand and mused for a moment on their romantic vacation.

"I love this party, but I’d so much rather be in sunny Miami right now. Sucking down a long cool drink by a hotel pool while Marisa is working her little tail off." Hapi explained.  "I wonder how many lesbians are pathologists?"

"Oh, It’s a forensic pathology convention!" Jackie countered "How much fun could she really be having?"

"Miami, land of bikinis and salsa rhythms" Tamara smiled and raised a sensuous eyebrow.

"Listen, I don’t care what she does with beautiful women in Miami as long as they don’t have a pulse!"

"ewwwwwww….."  Tamara cringed.  Her instant revulsion finally brought me to laugh.  Even funnier was the blank stare on Crash and Whip’s faces because it was obvious they didn’t have a clue what pathology was.

The music continued.  "Oooooo Salsa" Anna cooed.  "I love dancing. But mostly, I love….the tango!"  She ran to the sound system which was already cued to tango music.  "Gay tango! Gay tango!  You mean you all don’t know about gay tango!"

"Here she goes!"  Jackie smiled and threw her head back on the couch.  Billie, always eager for news of new gay trends, listened attentively as the alluring Anna explained in detail.

I excused myself to the bathroom to brush my hair and check my makeup.  Bounding out of the same bathroom was Whip, who took the opportunity to grab my breast and grope me hard.
"Ow! Hey! Cut it out!" I shouted and slapped her off.

"Your loss."  Whip sneered and pushed past me again as if I didn’t exist.  I was alone. No I wasn’t.  At the end of the hall, obscured by the shadow was Banshee’s eyes shooting flames at Whip’s retreat.  I didn’t even see Banshee walk towards us, she was just there.

"She cares."  The thought suprised me as I realized that not another soul had moved nor heard the commotion.

"Are you OK?" Banshee asked.  I nodded.

"Well hurry up with whatever you gotta do because I need to get in there."

I closed the door and realized this was an act.  She didn’t need to use the bathroom, she was protecting me. Guarding the door.  I took my time.

When I came out again, Banshee brushed passed me but not before putting a hand to my cheek and turning my face to hers.  She said nothing but closed her eyes and reopened them as if gazes could blow kisses.

In the few moments I was gone from the main room, the music had become louder, the chairs and table had been moved away and shots of tequila were being poured.  With firewater flowing in every direction, Anna had become a steaming temptress of tango and Jackie her willing consort.

Slowly to the music, the scene unfolded, a real life vignette of seduction straight out of the movie  "Frida".  Billy had grabbed Whip into an embrace and subtlety done something to engage her full attention.  Tamara and Hapi danced along not too seriously but enjoying the lesson. Crash drank.

Feeling much more composed I leaned on the arm of the chair where Banshee sat.  I wanted to say something clever but Banshee spoke before I did.

"I loved the tango scene in Frida.  I also liked Moulin Rouge too. That really was one of my favorite movies….Satine.  I guess it was one of yours too."

"Yes.  I was born there."

"The Moulin Rouge?"

"It’s true.  Right in the big jeweled elephant." I smiled.  "No really, I was born in Paris."

"I was born in Brooklyn.  Not too exciting."

"Very exciting.  Would you like a drink?"  I offered to get Banshee anything to keep her talking.

"Sure but nothing alcoholic. It’s much more fun to be sober while the rest of the world gets drunk."

I was happy to sit next to her, watching the dancing in it’s various comical and seductive expressions. True to form, Crash passed out on the dining room table.  Tamara took this as excuse to move her prey to the bedroom.  They never re-emerged.

"Banshee, you’re so quiet." Finally I had to comment on the distinct difference in cyber versus non-cyber personality.  Here I was a wallflower commenting on another person’s stillness.

"Do you really want me to start?"  Banshee smiled facetiously, blue eyes glinting with a sudden strange passion. Her opinions were her chief weapons and using them was either a threat or a promise.

"Yes! I mean no! no! Yes! Um…I don’t know!" I laughed and fumbled for my place again, realizing I might be asking for trouble  "You’re fine this way! Really! Umm…."

"Good. Look, yet another soldier drops  Banshee was actually having fun in own sort of way, watching the interactions like some sort of movie. This was a theatre of resilience to her and I was wondering what the script might read if she and I were the only ones on stage during the final act.

We watched the music die down and the group retire to their respective nesting places.  So did we.  The kitchen clock read 2:10 a.m.

I on the couch once again and Banshee across the room on the rug.  It was amazing.  She could fall asleep in less than 5 minutes.  The house became quiet after awhile and I only heard the small animals outside chirping.

I lived near the busiest boulevard in Queens, NY and now suddenly the din of this quiet Connecticut night was haunting me.  All this wildlife around me preventing me from sleep.  Not only was it noisy, it was scary and new.  It started to rain again and I was cold.  Here I was, Satine, lonely, cold and scared on a Saturday night in a house full of beautiful lesbians.  My story wasn’t going to end like this, not if I could help it.

Picking up my pillow and blanket, I moved towards the gentle snoring of Banshee.  "Should I do this?  Or will it just wreck everything?".    Throwing caution to the wind, I laid down next to this nearly unreadable menace of the chatroom.  Body heat would have to suffice for real conversation.

As I lay there, I heard her breathing change.  She was still quite unconscious but now there was movement of a very practiced kind.  Her left hand grazed over the silk material of my short nightgown and came to rest on my stomach . The other arm came around the pillow and pulled my back into her chest.  Her face curled right into the nape of my neck and she lay there dreaming.

"This is what it must be like to be in a relationship with a woman, sleeping with her." I thought to myself.  Already this was so much better than the way any man had touched me.  Ornery as she was, Banshee smelled wonderful, felt soft while still being strong. 

Everything was unique here in her arms, new and already on a level that I never felt before until her hand instinctively moved to the one place which had always been felt before, my breasts.  But my breasts had never been touched like this before.  This hand was delicious and even in sleep cupped the swell and palmed the nipple in such a masterful way that fear and fire brought forth a hint of steaming ambrosia between my legs.  I swallowed hard and couldn’t keep my back from arching closer to her in response.  I was willing, too willing.  It scared me to the core while thrilling every nerve.

My new found conqueror’s breathing abruptly changed, a halted, startled gasp like being woken from a bad dream.  "Great.  Reality time! Being with me is enough to scare anybody. She feels my breasts, realizes it’s chubby little me and the fantasy is over. Wonderful."

She was awake. I felt her eyes burning through the back of my head.  I said nothing.  She held her breath a minute and thought. Breaking the silence suddenly she commanded, "Come on.  Let’s take a walk."

"A walk?"  I whispered.  I finally got into bed with this woman and the last thing I wanted to do was take a walk.  "It’s night, it’s cold. Are you crazy?"  I protested but found myself slipping on my sneakers and putting a jacket over my nightgown.  "I don’t want to take a walk!  God!…what time is it?"

Banshee looked at her watch. "3:15"

To my surprise she had been naked except for an undershirt I finally noticed and slipped a pair of jeans on and a leather jacket.  Before I could say anymore, Banshee grabbed my hand and put her hand over my mouth to shush me.  She cracked the back sliding doors and led me out onto the porch.

I thought she and were going to stop on the back deck and exchange a long heart to heart talk where it would be explained that the two of us were so dissimilar that a relationship would never work out.  But she kept on walking.  I followed into the night holding her soft but callused hand.  She was too wiry to be muscle bound but her grip was intense and strong.

This was insane.  It started rain again and I was walking outside with her at night in only a nightgown with no panties.  We came to a car door and she opened it.  "Get in!"

It was the back seat of her car.  It must have been, she had the keys in her jacket pocket.  The rain began pounding on the roof.  It was suddenly very warm and I slowly peeled my jacket off realizing what I could do now to her, here in the darkness.  It was very dark.

The tresses that everyone so admired could be used as weapons, teasing her gaze into the breasts that were my asset in such a situation.  For a moment I felt so powerful.  I was Satine, the Satine I imagined myself to be.  The beautiful smoldering temptress of the Moulin Rouge.

Her jacket was off and in the shadows Banshee appeared to be inhuman. The more she looked at me the more I felt like an anxious captive in silk before her. A natural predator her breathing became methodical and slow.

Torso and back swelling like a cobra ready to strike, her attack came in a fury.

Flesh devouring flesh. Her lips were at my neck.  She was breathing hard taking me all in as her hands explored every inch of my breasts.  These hands as sure as a sculptor and I was nothing but her willing, virgin clay.  I was on fire and it felt glorious.  The bucking never ceased as the pressure between us intensified.  As she pulled my legs apart and buried her steaming sex into mine, I began to feel vulnerable and powerful and free.

I wrapped my legs around the back of her torso. She bit deep into my shoulder, I responded by dragging my nails and ripping into the soft flesh of her back.  I wanted her in me so deep, so deep.

Wish granted.  There was a savage beast ripping into my sex with hot breath, long, dark tresses all over my stomach.  She was grabbing my wrists and I was fighting her instinctively.  My eyes rolled back, this snake, this snake that was inside me now, curling and flicking, controlling my every reaction.  It burned, it burned so bad, I never felt my womb so hungry and all it wanted to do was eat.  I clenched on her tongue to hold her my prisoner forever.

A deep, raspy laugh was followed by another move.  Suddenly my brain was no more and I was being sucked into her whole.  I wanted to scream, I wanted to escape but my life was between her teeth.  I grabbed the handle of the car door for an anchor but it was no use.

First surrender, the floodgates.  I can feel the honey now, hot and burning half way down my thighs.  She is lapping the ambrosia that I have always tried to hide, the victor with the well-deserved spoils.

Kneeling over me, I am transfixed by her eyes, staring at my raw exposed soul.  I cannot breathe.  My heart is pounding.  I have met my transformer.  To Her I owe this confession.

"I have something to tell you."

She stops, eyes widening, not knowing what to expect but I can see she’s heard these mid-encounter revelations before and she’s not amused.

I noticed her watch still said 3:19.  It hadn’t been four minutes.  It had been a lot longer than 4 minutes unless time had stopped but time doesn’t stop.  Even lesbian time doesn’t stop.

"I’ve never…I’ve never…"  my eyes close, my sex is still pounding, the remnants of orgasm making me drift into ..somewhere.

"Never been with a woman before" she finished.  "I know."

I was looking at the car door from a belly down position.  I don’t know how I got there.  She flipped me.  The bastard flipped me. Not inexperienced, oh no.  Not at all.  She grabbed my hair from the back and snarled in my ear.  "I know.  I know".

Her hand slipped through my legs and positioned me for the second approach. "ohhhh…..mmm…."  I couldn’t think.  She was deep already.  My head went black, she had penetrated me to the core and I was ready to gag.  My eyes were spinning.  All the length and girth I had ever felt had never done this.  She was accurate.  "deep! oh…deep…"  I moaned.  I didn’t know what I was saying.  "I can’t…I can’t., god…."  My fingers gripped the end of the seat.

The rain pelted down harder on the car as her fingers masterfully trained my pussy to respond to her commands.  Two fingers, three fingers….pushing me until she could do anything to me.  Anything to me….’more…more…..yes……"  Back to two fingers again, pummeling my sopping sex, ramming me like a machine gun, it never stopped.  I began clawing the seat.  She yanked on my hair and growled.  "oh god, oh god oh god….." I moaned.

With two fingers inserted deep in my womb now, numb I thought, we flew higher.  She put the force of her pelvis behind her hand.  "fucckkkkkkk me…….fuckkkkk me"  I screamed.  Her hips slammed against my rear like the wild ocean.

"Angelique…."  this voice was demonic but it belonged to my own new personal devil. "fucckkkkk me….fucckkkkk me…."  it mocked, she was clutching me and swaying with me like a rag doll, I had totally lost control.  "you’re mine….you’re mine."  The rasp was manic. I couldn’t  escape, nor did I want to.

I felt her heart pounding between my shoulder blades.  I reached back and caressed her neck, she was deep inside and we knelt in that position in the darkness like some unholy, reverse genuflection.  I was shuddering in her arms.  She was covered in cum and sweat and fire. She was huge somehow.  She owned me and I wanted to be owned.

Tears I had never known poured down my eyes and I laughed.  "I’m not crying but why am I crying"  I heaved.  I was sobbing.  So slowly, so delicately her fingers eased out of me.  She held me in the night covering me in her leather jacket. She kissed my cheek and my head and my lips.  I wanted to say something but her look insisted I say nothing.

Our hearts came to a similar resting place and she helped me on with my jacket.  I smiled and zipped up her sex drenched jeans.  Again she held my hand and we ran inside from the rain.  I don’t know how I managed to run.  The house was silent and she closed the door keeping the rain outside.

I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my coat and looked out the window for a moment. Banshee had already scooped me up into her arms and carried me to our love nest by the fireplace.  I melted into her and noticed the watch on her wrist still reading 3:19. It had fogged in the moisture and stopped eternally. I took the silver watch off her wrist and held it.

Banshee held me as she did before but this time the meaning and intent was not a dream, it was for me.  She kissed me and fell asleep face nestled in the nape of my neck. In a few hours the house would be filled with gossip and coffee.  I drifted off staring at the watch deeply satisfied in the knowledge that lesbian time stops for love.  Lesbian time stopped for me.

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