As I slipped onto a bar stool in Sydney's historic Marble Bar, the thigh-high split in my dress parted and perfectly showcased my bronzed sun-kissed leg. That spectacle was wasted on the barman who was otherwise occupied, inspecting my ample, albeit more modestly displayed, cleavage.

“One of your Expresso Martinis to end my day, charged to my room, thanks,” I said, resisting the urge to add, don’t get your hopes up mate, I’m into girls.

“Busy day?” he asked, as he placed the bar's renowned salted caramel espresso martini in front of me.

“Yeah, my usual week in Melbourne is rarely as frantic as this week has been. Big dinner tonight with the sponsors, tomorrow will be another long one, but then, thank God, it is the weekend.”

“You will enjoy getting home tomorrow then,” he said.

“I am actually staying in Sydney for the weekend, and my …”

It didn't seem worth completing my sentence as I was sure he hadn't heard a word of my reply. His eyes had abandoned their furtive glances at my chest and focused, over my shoulder, on the marble archway that was the entrance to the bar.

So, intrigued at what was more distracting than my decolletage, I turned and all was revealed. And, like him, my attention zeroed in on the ruby red diaphanous dress strutting into the bar. That and the gorgeous blonde to whom the dress precariously clung.

I immediately noticed that the similarity between us wasn't confined to hair colour. Around three inches shy of six feet, she was my height and her body beautifully toned, no doubt by a similar running schedule to mine.

She mesmerised as she approached the bar, her dress reflecting the sway of her hips and movement of her unconstrained breasts, c-cup like me I imagined. Despite being, I guessed, at least a decade older than my twenty-five years, she was a strikingly attractive woman.

She exuded the confidence that came with knowing she looked the part. Her choice of a dress that sheer advertised her taste for designer luxury - as well as the fact she had no intention of leaving anything to anyone's imagination. Heads consequently turned but she didn’t acknowledge them, her focus was fixed, model-like, on the mahogany bar, the bar where I sat alone.

She slid onto a stool, two along from me, languid, with the slit in her stunning Alex Perry dress displaying a long pale leg. She appeared to be, and there is no other comparator, like a goddess, perhaps Aphrodite or Diana. And like those Goddesses, she radiated a magnetic power, transcending the mere mortal as if she was blessed by the divine.

And, of course, given my track record, the appearance of this Goddess-like creature beside me at the bar energised me. It felt like a switch had been thrown in my mind and I needed to be closer to her to enjoy the source of her power, and, if I am honest, to see whether mine matched hers.

Her glance lingered on me as it unashamedly travelled from my feet up to my eyes. And having checked me out, she then turned to the barman, and said, “I'll have what she is having.”

“These are Sydney's best Expresso Martinis, and I am told they are a perfect nightcap,” I observed, which was, I recognised, a pretty standard conversation opener.

She turned, smiled at me, and replied, “As far as cocktails go that is likely true. But my perfect nightcap doesn’t need either cock or tails.”

That was more than an exploratory toe in the flirting pool, I thought, more like a full-body immersion. And, as usual, I couldn't resist the challenge of plunging into that particular pool, and indeed I instinctively upped the ante, replying, “And here was I thinking a fox tail butt plug would beautifully complement your Alex Perry outfit.”

With the mention of the butt plug, she smirked deliciously, but the barman almost spilt her cocktail as he placed it in front of her. She and I were both experienced enough to recognise the opening moves had been made and it was game on.

She turned to face me, raised her glass to her lips, sipped the decadent cocktail, and whispered, “I am impressed you noticed that my gown is from Australia’s premier couturier. Though I suspect Alex would have been shocked if I had asked him to include a tail in my fitting.”

“Shocked that you had asked a man? Or is it that you prefer a tail to be inserted in a more private setting?”

She smiled like a cat that was anticipating lashings of cream, and upped the ante herself, “Well not just any girl can play with my arse. I am a bit particular in that I insist, for instance, on knowing the name of any woman who intends to bugger me.”

“I am Laura,” I replied, “And I don’t think you will find I am just any woman.”

“Oh, just one look was enough for me to know you are more interesting than most. You have a very sensual aura about you. Perfectly complemented by your Sass and Bide outfit. I am Sarah.”

“I had to impress clients tonight, Sarah, but I doubt I impressed as much as you would have.”

“Don’t short change yourself, you certainly impressed me in, and, I imagine," Sarah added with a smirk, "Out of that outfit.”

I was thrilled my sartorial efforts hadn’t gone unrecognised by a fellow devotee of fashion. But there was more, I realised, so much more drawing me to Sarah than a shared love of good frocks.

Her beauty and raw animal magnetism intoxicated and I wanted to step into her web, despite not knowing what was inside that gorgeous exterior. Even given how little I knew about her, I felt my body stir, nipples firmed into pokies pressing against my dress. And my pussy juices dampened my thong, which was, I now appreciated, inadequate for the task of meeting a Goddess at the Hilton's heritage bar.

She smiled, seemingly an accomplished reader of body language and said, “I can see that you are attracted to me, but just so you know, it is a long time since I have been stirred as much as I was when I saw you sitting at the bar.”

Of course, I was used to being desired. Even so, I was surprised by the joy I got from knowing this sensual goddess was actually into me. But I knew there was a much more important question that I had to face up to, namely whether I should be into her.

“There is of course,” I consequently replied, “a glory and a delight in instantaneous attraction. But it is, after all, a desire that could lead one astray.”

“I don’t think I can lead you astray Laura. Women like you and I are hooked on the thrill we get from seduction, especially when we bite into forbidden fruit.”

That was, I confessed to myself, absolutely true. I had been that woman. Eschewing love, which resonated of sipping hot chocolate beside the hearth, to be out riding with the hounds sniffing out the most delicious of sapphic experiences.

And I pondered whether Sarah was well beyond anyone I had previously thought of as delicious. Her Goddess like magnetism generated a lust in me, but not like any lust I had ever felt before, this was lust refined, distilled, and concentrated to its purest essence. I was overwhelmed by the strength of my yearning for her and my desire for her to want me, to take me, to fuck me even though only a few words had yet passed between us.

Sarah just seemed to instinctively know how I felt about her and, if her body language was anything to go by, a hunger for me coursed through her veins. So, conversation between us then flowed warmly and seductively. We both were skilled practitioners in the arts of building physical desire, and we both knew how to nurture the delicious sense of anticipation that our dance of seduction was drawing from each other.

It was, I reflected later, as sensual and erotic a conversation as I had ever had. And Sarah was totally clear as to what was on the table, unfortunately not tonight she said, a standing invitation to join with her and worship at the temple of carnal delights.

She consequently asked for, and I gave her my phone number which led to me having hers. Since she had her phone out, she wanted a selfie, and since she had a photo of the two of us, I took a picture of us on my phone too.

And then she excused herself. She placed a soft kiss, redolent of future sensual joy, on my lips and wandered seductively out of the bar. With a last sway of her hips, she turned as she passed out of the bar and disappeared out of my view. And I felt a sense of loss as though a light had been switched off.

I finished my espresso martini, picked up my phone and headed up to my room, deep in thought.

I had been thinking about love lately. But my experience with Sarah made me wonder whether my, to date, lifetime commitment to the dance of lust made me permanently vulnerable to betraying any expressions of love that I made. Was it a fait accompli, demonstrated by my history, that giving into lust was so hard-wired into me that it would inevitably outweigh a love that bloomed?

A vision of a future path had occurred to me at the bar, namely the wonderful erotic thrill of surrendering to my dark desires, consuming Sarah, and being re-born like her, a younger more powerful erotic goddess. Like a female Ozymandias, women would look at me and despair. Despair for their unquenchable need for me and their inability to hold onto me. The sheer erotic power that would flow from that apotheosis made me ache.

As I got ready for bed, I couldn't help but imagine my surrender to Sarah, the woman who toyed with my desire like no one ever had before. Our first kiss would go on and on, setting off skyrockets of pleasure in my brain and signals to my pussy that caused my juices to flow. I would be enveloped in a wave of sensory pleasure so powerful that nothing else would ever matter. My experience of life seemed to be leading me to be her disciple, worshipping at her altar of pleasure, and making my vows on how I should please Sarah and how she could please me.

I know I am beautiful, I have always desired others and they have desired me. But I asked myself does that vision of the future mean that desire is just like the summer leaves, beautiful then gorgeously colourful, and then gone with the first hint of the cold of winter?

And if so, I pondered, is there another path, as yet untrodden, at least by me? Would a future based on love, be there season by season, protecting me against the cold, perhaps never as vibrantly rich as in the beginning, but just the perfect ongoing nourishment for a girl’s soul?

Love, I knew, was a significant, almost dominant, theme in literature. As it was always written about as a stronger more powerful emotion than lust, and if that was the case, then I would be short-sighted to sacrifice a love, no matter how embryonic, even for the sexiest pussy on the planet, and Sarah certainly fitted that bill that night at the Marble Bar.

But knowing the canons of English literature, it seemed like those writers metaphorically climbed into bed with me that night. They didn’t glorify lust rather, as the standard bearers for love, they wrote about individuals open to the moment when love found them. I consequently heard in my mind, as I turned off the light and pulled up the covers, an echo from the literature written down the ages that was a reminder to always remember the redemptive power of love.

And I knew that when I had actually sipped, like communion wine, from that cup, even taking much less than a mouthful meant I had felt some of that power. Consequently, naked under the covers, there was one woman on my mind. Sarah had made me feel so very, very horny and I massaged my wet achy clit until orgasm deliciously claimed me.

*********

When I arrived back in my hotel room the next evening after supper, I discovered her sitting there, having somehow got herself into my room.

She stood and, as the door closed behind me, minced over to me in her lime green skirt boldly accessorised with matching heels.

“You have kept me waiting,” she said impatiently, her hair swinging with the shake of her head.

“How long, and how did you get in here?”

“I had my way with the concierge of course silly,” she said placing her soft lips on mine, and adding, “I have been waiting for you since we parted company.”

My arms went around her shoulders and I drew her into me, “Waiting for what exactly?”

She giggled, “Waiting to fuck you silly of course, silly”

“Oh really,” I said, though in truth I could hardly be surprised by that.

“Unless of course, you have had a better offer from some tart.”

“Well as it happens, I have had an offer.”

That startled her. And while she recovered and then tried to appear impassive, I knew she was trying to conceal her feelings; as I had seen her initial shocked look.

“I see, Laura, well, of course, I won't stand in your way. Is she gorgeous?”

“Well, I did take a selfie to show you. Her name is Sarah.”

Jess took a long look at the selfie of me and Sarah that I had taken the previous evening.

“Oh my, she really is stunning darling,” Jess said, her voice a study in control though tinged with something close to sadness.

I looked straight down into her eyes and smiled.

“And what makes you think you aren't?” I replied conscious of my need to nip in the bud any germinating anxieties my girlfriend might be growing about a super-model lookalike staring out at her from my phone.

Jess gave me that patented look she has where her smile of appreciation curls down at the edges conveying that her feelings are tinged with a question as to the sincerity of the comment.

"Well, apart from being elfin with bee-stings for boobs, you mean?" Jess added without emotion.

I couldn’t help but smirk at her comment and her eyes lit up as she knowingly pounced on my smile. Her hand which was around my waist snaked down and she smacked my bum, too gently to hurt but hard enough to get my attention.

“You are teasing me aren't you Laura?”

I ran my fingers through her brunette hair, “You do look good my love. And I may be teasing, but maybe you ought to ring Sarah and thank her.”

Jess’s expressive eyebrows arched questioningly.

So, I answered her questioning look, “For showing me there is something more powerful in my life than lust for one of the sexiest women on the planet, a bill which Sarah certainly fits.”

Jess’s eyes widened, and she positively glowed, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

I softly kissed her lips, and smiled, answering, “I think you know what trumps lust.”

“Say it, just say it, Laura, please.”

“I love you, Jess.”

The shriek of joy reverberated around our hotel room. Jess slipped from my grasp and bounced, there was no other word for it, up and down excitedly clapping her hands. She was petite, and at that moment of unconcealed joy, she was like a teenager whose Christmases had all come at once.

Having owned up to how I felt and seeing her excited reaction, I was overwhelmed by the surge of emotion that flowed through me. I needed Jess in a way I had never needed anyone before.

“Strip,” I ordered.

“Who me,” she simpered, “why would you want me naked when you could have Sarah?”

“Because you love me,” I replied, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Don’t you?”

“I might,” she replied, before executing a perfect half twirl, and bending over to remove first one shoe and then the other. Knowing full well that facing away from me she was giving me a tantalising glimpse of her brief yellow knickers, which were riding into her tight little arse.

Standing, Jess smoothed down her skirt, and looked over her shoulder coquettishly, catching my eye and asking, “See anything you like?”

“I might have,” I replied, thinking that two could play Jess’s ‘might’ games.

Jess giggled adorably, “If it is only might when it comes to my body, then you might have to call that Sarah bitch. Unless of course you were teasing and you do really do like what you see.”

“Knickers got in the way.”

“Oh, so, you prefer a girl going commando. Did she?”

“It wouldn’t have been wise for Sarah to go commando darling,” I said with a smirk, “After all she was wearing a gorgeous Alex Perry dress which would have been stained with pussy juices when she first saw me.”

Jess pursed her lips, clearly thinking about her response, “Vanity all is vanity. Do you really think you make every girl's pussy damp?”

“Of course, the hot ones dampen with lust, but those that love me have truly sopping knickers.” I looked at her, holding her eyes with my gaze.

“Oh fuck,” she said, blushing furiously. Her fingers went under her skirt and with a shimmy, she slid her little knickers off, “Just to test your crazy idea that I might actually love you.”

Jess stepped closer, and I kept my gaze on her as she presented her knickers for inspection. They reeked, there is no other word for it, of her juices. She was totally turned on.

And the look on her face meant she knew that I now knew. Her gaze turned suddenly raw, a desperate longing was reflected by her eyes. I saw something that I had glimpsed in her before, but which now found its voice and its time.

“Take off your blouse and bra,” Jess growled.

“Who made you the boss?” I asked, though my fingers had already undone the first button and were moving on to the second.

“You have turned my pussy into a molten viscous mess, and I don’t want to splatter your work clothing with love juices.”

“And here I was thinking you just wanted to stare at my boobs.”

“That too, for a moment at least. But after that, I won’t be able to see your boobs.”

“Oh why, what do you have in mind?” I said, realising that my knickers were almost as damp as hers.

“I want, oh fuck, I want to ride your gorgeous face my darling.” Was this my hesitant eager to please girlfriend speaking?

There was a time, well when was there not a time, that being told what to do in the bedroom would have rankled with me. But the idea of Jess of all people doing it was such a turn-on that that night it didn't. And I realised why, Jess wasn't about to use me for her pleasure. Rather she needed me and I wanted to meet her needs. Jess was finally able to own up to her needs because she knew there was love in which she could trust. So, sopping wet, I did as I was told and slipped off my blouse and undid my bra.

“Oh, who has hard little pokies, then." Jess observed, "Is it my slutty behaviour which is arousing you - or might it be that you love me?” She moved from commanding to almost beseeching. I could sense her emotions were at boiling point, which was about where mine were. I looked at her, seeing the wanting I felt mirrored in her gaze.

“Given the state of those knickers, there is no might about it.”

Jess looked quizzically at me for a moment, as if she was contemplating her reply, “Oh Laura, I can hardly believe it!”

“What is that my love?”

“Hard to believe, but knowing you are in love too makes me the horniest I have ever been.”

“Too?” I replied with a smile.

“Yes, too silly, of course I love you. I have been waiting for you to catch up.”

“What, why?”

“Slow learner, I guess,” Jess replied with an adorable giggle.

“And now that I have caught up?” I asked.

“You do as you are told. Oh my, my,” she sighed, "I never felt such desire, even for you. I want you more than I have wanted anything ever, and it isn't like anything else I've ever felt. Want you!"

Hearing her admit to her desires I flooded, and let her come to me.

Jess pushed me so I lay back onto the bed, and she slipped off her skirt and crawled cat-like up the bed. Placing her hands on the wall behind me, she whispered, “When it comes to my heart; to the victor go the spoils. I am yours.” She was moaning as she said it.

And, as I gazed up at her waxed glistening pussy, I could see she was dripping. She lowered herself closer and closer towards my eager mouth.

My hands slipped up and behind her, and, with one on each of her peach shaped butt cheeks, I drew her to me. Jess, my adorable unconventional Jess, was the best and I felt the overwhelming need to give of my best, drawn in by the same feelings which were overwhelming her.

As soon as my tongue slid through the folds of her pussy, Jess started whimpering. And the whimpering turned into moaning as my hands drew her closer and my tongue swirled around her clit.

Feeling her juices slipping down over my chin,  I ducked my head lower, dragging my tongue around her entrance and then curling and poking it into her. The eagerness with which I licked and tongue fucked Jess's sopping pussy made her shiver, her moans turning into incomprehensible gibberish.

Jess's body starting to tighten and shake, which told me that her orgasm wasn't far away. I worked my mouth back up to her clit, flicking it rapidly with the tip of my tongue.

Pressing the flat of my tongue against her clit I worked it back and forth and was rewarded with a string of “Love you, love you, love you,” as she arched forward, her palms flat against the headboard, rocking her hips firmly down onto my face as she ground her pussy against my mouth. And as I sucked her clit, her body shuddered and she screamed my name as an orgasm like no other tore through her.

I felt her slip off her blouse and lie beside me, breathing deeply. And once she had recovered her breath, she whispered:

“Oh my darling, that, that was so ... it's as though being so loved-up made my orgasm even more intense.”

“You might be right Jess, but I wouldn’t know,” I said with a giggle.

“Tis better to give than receive my love.”

Never before had I appreciated how true that cliche was. It was a complete buzz making Jess cum. Though, I realised, while the cliche was accurate, I was squirming and needy, and I wanted my girlfriend.

“That is true. But it is also said that what is good for the goose is good for the gander.”

Jess smirked, that teasing look written all over her face, “I might point out that there are no ganders in this bed.”

“This is not the time for being pedantic, you minx.”

Jess affected an air of incomprehension, and asked in mock seriousness, “What is it time for darling?”

“I'm needy."

"Needy, I don't know why. Didn't you get your self off last night after...?"

"Yes, and before you ask no!"

"No darling what do you mean by no?"

"Sarah was not on my mind. She had got me wet that is true, but I came last night thinking loving thoughts about you. Stop teasing me, you minx, saying I loved you has got me super horny."

"Alright then darling, as you say you love me I dare say I can oblige. So spread those long legs and let the woman you love, love the women she loves.”

Jess slipped off my dress and sodden underwear. I was squirming in anticipation and not just because Jess liked to please and was a skilled lover. There was something different about me that night, it was as if saying that I loved her had released a hormone that accentuated my desire.

She knelt, and she kissed up the inside of my thighs. As the moans passed my lips, I looked down at her. She wasn't like the classical goddesses. Where Sarah had curves, Jess hardly troubled an a-cup. Where Sarah radiated lust and power, that wasn't Jess's style.

And there was something else, something way more significant. Sarah and I would have made Mount Olympus shake with the lightning bolts of our lust, but she was a Goddess. And as the ancient tale of Prometheus reminded us, the Gods are indifferent to humanity; to Sarah I would be small change, consumed, enjoyed and then forgotten.

Jess would never do that. As her lips reached my swollen lips and tugged at each of them, and as she scooped up my juices and massaged my clit with it, sending wave after wave of pleasure through me, I realised that lust and power were intertwined.

Between Sarah and I there would have been power and control, and to the victor would have gone the spoils - satisfying until the next big game commenced. It was a process that had no end but itself. Devour or be devoured; be prey or predator.

The woman between my thighs, using her tongue with such exquisite skill, however, knew me well. She knew my inmost desires. She knew me when I was down. She loved me in my tee shirt and shorts, and she loved me out of them; but there it was, she loved me. What she gave me she offered for love and from love, not from a desire for the exotic or forbidden fruit.

As she lapped, as her lips sucked on my clit, as her fingers curled into me, the thrills came from somewhere deep inside me, and everything she did was from our love, not simply from a desire to excel; though, as my rising passion evidenced, excel she did.

With her fingers working deep in me, and her tongue sending thrills through me, I lost myself but it was not in lust, but in the idea of us. The love that we shared intensified and multiplied the pleasure which now carried me away on its tide. Jess might have lacked classical curves and height, but her petite form was mine, and she used every ounce of skill she had not for herself, but for me, and through that, for us.

As my body exploded with pleasure, I knew she was my answer to the question posed in all literature about being open to love.

She looked up, her sweet face wet with my juices; there was a huge smile on her face. I looked at her and I pulled her up to cuddle.

"You are right, Jess. Love suits us, that was fucking great."

“So, let's get this straight,” Jess said after we had snuggled for a while, “You realised you loved me when some strumpet, albeit a very hot one, walked into the downstairs bar.”

“No, I thought I loved you before that. But it is more accurate to say when Sarah walked out of the bar, I knew for sure that the feelings I had developed for you were truly love and that they inoculated me against other women. I knew then that you could trust me with your love.”

“I am not so sure how I feel about how you got to that conclusion. But I adore the conclusion itself.”

“I know now I need more than just a good fuck, and I know I have that in you. I knew I didn't want to hurt you and Sarah showed me that I won't betray your love.”

“I think,” Jess whispered, “I think after tonight you might also conclude that I am a better fuck than that Sarah bitch.”

“That may be, who knows, but tonight was about so much more than fucking,” I replied giving her nose a little kiss. A surge of emotion ran, like a tidal wave, through me and I found the words that best captured my feelings for Jess, “Make love with me. Sarah can’t make love with me, only you can do that.”

Her arms wrapped around my shoulders as my arms wrapped around her waist. And we just stared at each other, oh boy did we stare. I really understood for the first time what the falling part of falling in love meant.

It was if I was tumbling into Jess, her eyes were liquid pools reflecting her soul, and I wanted the full immersion.

“I love you, Jess,” I whispered.

“I know darling, you need never say it again as I can see it in your eyes. But I don’t suggest you actually don’t say it again. My ears will want to hear it again and again.”

Even at arguably the most romantic and intimate moment in our lives, Jess could still push my buttons. She paused, not moving and not saying anything. The only give away was that the liquid pools that were her eyes sparkled.

She was teasing me. And as she was teasing me, I didn’t react.

“You are no fun,” Jess finally said with an adorable giggle, “You know when I am teasing you.”

“Oh, I think I am still fun,” I said as my fingers drifted down her back and caressed her arse, pretending I was about to smack it, “But if you don’t say what is on your mind….”

Jess giggled, “I love you, Laura, I always have and always will, but, but I didn't really believe I would be enough for you. You are, well, just so, so gorgeous.”

And her eyes watered as an emotional surge went through her. She and I paused for a moment, before kissing tenderly with our fingers tracing abstract patterns across each other’s backs. Saying I love you for the first time was a sign that we both knew for certain that we had arrived somewhere special.

With that understanding, there was no pretence. Our eyes locked, windows onto our souls, as our fingers played with each other's nipples. Simultaneously squeezing as our nipples firmed, and then pulling, we both whimpered in unison.

With perfect synchronisation, her and my fingers crept gently over each other’s stomach and grazed through our pussies. I was beyond damp, and, when I touched her, I knew she too was beyond damp.

My finger scooped moisture from her pussy. Her finger scooped moisture from mine. She caressed my clit and I caressed her clit. She moaned, and I heard myself moan too.

Touching and caressing, we were physically responding to each other but, the connection was strongest in our eyes, the recognition of our shared emotional high. I was in deeper than I have ever been with anyone, and I could see that she was too.

Emotionally it seemed like we had become one. She knew, and in her eyes, I saw her embrace that reality. Opening ourselves totally to each other felt magical. Our connection, aided by our fingers, spurred on our fast approaching orgasms.

And, as we had before, we experienced that little death together. But somehow the excruciating orgasmic pleasure seemed richer and stronger than ever before.

And after we refocused following our orgasms, Jess smiled and whispered, “Just as well we like making love then …”

“As that is what we will be doing for the rest of our lives,” I interrupted.

Whatever point Jess was about to make vanished and I achieved a lifetime goal of silencing the talkative one. And she didn’t care, she snuggled contentedly into me.

Soon after, for the first time, we said the eight words that would transition us into dream time every night from that day forward.

“I love you, Laura.”

“I love you, Jess.”

And like otters, cuddled together, we slept the night away.