Part 1

Elena

I sighed as I pulled my Red BMW into a narrow parking space near the entrance to the Grand Hotel, pleased that I wouldn't have far to walk in heels. I hated these holiday parties, and making Bessmer Insurance was famous (or infamous) for the most elaborate ones in town. Being one of the only women in my department, I would have to tolerate the catcalls and snide comments from the mostly male staff, particularly the idiots in sales. Gawd I hate those guys, I had half a mind to flirt with one of their pretty little straight wives and get my head between their legs in some dark corner, purely to get back at them. Just to irk them I dressed in a daring black cocktail dress, showing off my olive-skinned legs and my cleavage, to tease them with what they could never, ever have.

As I opened the back door to the conference wing of the hotel, my ears were instantly assaulted by loud, poorly chosen music, no doubt all designed to get any woman there to gyrate their bodies all for the pleasure of male onlookers. I will make an appearance, say hello to the executive team, and get the hell out of here inside of the hour, I thought to myself. Did I mention how much I hated these things?

I sauntered slowly in the direction of the music, knowing the entrance that I had chosen would allow me to approach by stealth and make my appearance on my own terms. As I rounded the corner, I smiled as I saw a beautiful lighted fountain in the center of the corridor, still a distance from the entrance to the ballroom, which was visible on the other side. The lights danced over the streams of water, changing every few seconds in a way that was hypnotic, calming my own anxieties about the evening and making me smile. I paused to watch the variegated light patterns glint off of the droplets of water and I stood still letting my body sway slightly to the music, lost in the colorful display, getting lost in the moment.

My reverie was broken by the movement of something red on the other side of the fountain, alerting me to the fact that I was not alone in my admiration of the light and water display. Stepping slowly to the left, I saw the source of the color, a gorgeous woman in a shimmering red dress. The fabric hugged her supple curves, with an opening showing her lower back displaying a lovely light skin tone with a small freckle just to the side of her spine. Her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and even though I couldn't see her face, I was mesmerized. Apparently, my appearance wasn’t as stealthy as I imagined, and she turned slowly, with a warm smile that made the beauty of the fountain seem as bland as the copy paper we used in the office. I secretly took in the sight of her, both an amazing figure and a lovely face, lips that reminded me of red rosebuds, and her blue eyes which seemed to see into my soul.

“Hi, I’m Tamara,” she said when she finally spoke, extending her delicate hand to me, noting the red nail polish that matched her dress perfectly.

With my mind on autopilot, I slipped my hand into hers, feeling the warmth and enjoying it far more than I should have, smiling sweetly and replying, “Elena… so nice to meet you, Tamara, and damn I love that dress, you look amazing in it.”

As I regained my senses, it seemed a tad strange that a beautiful woman would be standing purposely a distance away from the fun of the evening. I leaned my head to one side, and with a crooked smile asked, “Not a fan of the Bessmer bash I take it?”

Tamara rolled her eyes and then broke into a grin that showed her perfect teeth, which just made my insides turn into jelly. Did she have any earthly clue how beautiful she was? “Wow, got it on the very first try! Yeah, when it first starts it’s okay, but the more drunk the guys get they go from ridiculous bullshitting to hitting on anything that moves and back again. Unfortunately, my husband always seems to be the ringleader.”

My heart sank, shit, she was straight, and in fact, one of those pretty little straight wives I had mused about earlier. In reality, I would never cross that line, either personally or professionally, and given how genuine Tamara was, even more so. I tried to think of something to say that wasn’t awkward, the last thing I wanted to do was scare her off. “Well, we’re in the same boat then. We girls gotta stick together, right?”

Tamara’s lips curved upward so much that I felt like I had just handed her a check for a million dollars, a sign that I had instinctively hit the exact note that I needed to. “Woohoo. Girl power!” She lifted her hand up for a high five, and without so much as a second thought, I slapped my hand loudly against hers, making us both giggle.

Sensing I had earned the right to get closer now, I touched her forearm non-threateningly and said, “I need a drink, how about you?”

“Oh, I am gonna need more than one, but there is no way in hell I will brave that den of assholes to get one,” Tamara said, her eyes rolling.

“No worries, love, I will go grab them for us, and go all warrior princess on them if they get near me. Well, not that they would anyway,” I said, realizing at the last second that I had set myself up for a question I wasn't ready to answer for her yet. Oh shit!

Tamara’s eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed for a second, “And why is that?”

I had to come up with something clever or risk blowing it. Giving her a wink, I replied, “To make it in this business of mostly men? Gotta scare the hell out of them.” Her smile and nod told me that I had managed to answer to her satisfaction. I had no doubt I would tell her that a little later, but I wanted to craft that discussion perfectly. At that point I scurried off to grab some well-earned libations for us, knowing that I had bought myself some time.

Tamara

My red heels clicked on the pavement as I stepped out of our black SUV and the valet drove it away. I smiled as I walked arm in arm with my husband Alan into the ornate glass doors of the Grand Hotel, where his company always hosted its annual holiday party, or the ‘Bessmer Bash’ as everyone called it. I had mixed feelings about it, some years it was fairly tame, with dancing and fun, but more often than not turned into a drunken debacle, with the men hitting on anything that moved, myself included. Alan always had the tendency to flirt, strut, and brag but after enough drinks he became insufferable, often openly propositioning any woman within three feet of him.

One year after the party, I called him out for his lewd behavior, accusing him of cheating, and he actually hit me. Not a tap or a warning slap, but his fist crashing into my face, causing me to fall back and land on a glass vase. The vase shattered just before I hit the floor, the edge of the jagged piece ripping a six-inch gash on my upper thigh, making me cry out. Twelve stitches later I ‘conveniently’ forgot about what happened, not reporting it to the police and blocked it from my memory. Needless to say, I was terrified of pissing him off again after that.

“Are you ok, hun?” Alan asked, as if pretending to care.

“Just fine,” I replied, pasting a fake smile on my face. “Can you… take it easy tonight? I know it’s easy to get carried...”

“Just drop it!” he snapped, a fierce look in his eyes.

“You’re right. Sorry,” I said, gritting my teeth to maintain some sense of control.

Once inside, a well-dressed middle-aged man approached us, his silver name tag reading Philip. “This way sir and madam,” he said with a smile, leading us to a brightly lit room filled with people and loud, pulsing music.

I could tell that the reveling was already well underway, remembering all too well what that often led to. Alan waved to a group of ten or so guys that I recognized as his team members, and he started to head over towards them. My stomach twisted, as if in warning, and I pulled back from him. “You go ahead, I don't want to cramp your style. No worries okay? Go have fun.”

Alan frowned and then shrugged his shoulders, muttering, “Your loss, Tam.” I swear he did that out of spite, knowing I loathed being called that. I just nodded with another fake smile on my face, stepping back into the corridor, eyes darting around for some place to get away from everything.

Peering down one of the branches of the corridor, I could see lights, and figured out that it was some kind of decorative water feature. It appeared large enough to essentially hide behind, and seemed like a safe place to withdraw to, close enough to hear Alan should he start calling for me, but far enough away to provide meaningful cover. I walked as quickly as I could without drawing attention to myself, slipping behind the fountain until my view of the ballroom entrance was obscured. My only regret was not getting a good strong drink, my hands were shaking a bit, proving I needed to calm my nerves. I spent a few minutes doing some deep breathing exercises learned from Yoga and felt my heartbeat starting to slow to a calmer pace.

After a few minutes of solitude, I felt like I was being watched, and fearing the worst, turned to see who it was. I was relieved to see it wasn’t a drunk, predatory guy bent on harassing me, but rather a lovely woman around my age, in a short, black cocktail dress that was both simple and elegant, showing off her long legs and nice breasts tastefully. Her facial features were striking, feminine, slightly darker skin than mine, high cheekbones, and deep brown eyes. Something about her was magnetic, like I was somehow in her orbit now, and I felt compelled to introduce myself.

“Hi. I’m Tamara,” I said, extending my hand to her, feeling very relaxed now. There was no threat here.

“Elena. So nice to meet you, Tamara, and let me say you look incredible in that dress,” she replied, her hand clasping mine. I felt a sensation I couldn't quite identify, but enjoyed it nonetheless, not making any attempt to release her grip. Elena’s expression changed a bit. “Not a fan of the Bessmer Bash I take it?”

Maybe she wanted to escape the insanity too, I thought. “Got it on the first try,” I said, finally releasing her hand. “Things start out okay but quickly wind up with guys getting drunk and hitting on any woman close by. Sadly, my husband is usually the ringleader.”

Elena’s lips tightened, and I thought maybe I had said something wrong. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but maybe she had a guy that was in that circle and she didn’t like it any better than I did. Truth be told, I couldn’t interpret her expression, and I was about to say something when she blurted out, “Well we are in the same boat then. We girls gotta stick together.”

Wow, she gets it! She totally gets it! I giggled and replied, “Girl power!” I held up my hand for a high-five, and giggled as she returned the gesture with marked enthusiasm.

About a second later, I felt a soft touch on my arm, not sexual but just friendly - genuinely friendly - and I welcomed it. Being in a relationship with an insecure self-centered man had left me feeling pretty isolated, so it was refreshing and enjoyable to connect with Elena. Pretty, smart, funny, she had it all.

“How about a drink? I could use one,” she asked, smiling warmly.

“Oh, I am gonna need more than one, but there is no way I will go into that den of assholes to get it,” I replied, almost spitting the words in disgust.

“Don’t worry, love, I will get them for us, and go all warrior princess on their asses if they go anywhere near me,” Elena giggled. ”Well, not that they would anyway,” she added, pursing her lips the same way she had earlier.

I froze, the statement setting off warning alarms in my head. What does she mean? Is she a lesbian? I wasn’t threatened by that, after all, we were just talking like friends, but it did make me wonder. I opened my mouth, and asked, “Oh? And why is that exactly?” My mind was in an internal debate, asking if it really mattered, if it was any of my business, or changed anything. I already liked her, we could be friends. Great friends. No, it didn't matter.

Elena gave me a wink which made me smile and set me at ease again, saying, “You know the secret to making it in this business of mostly men? Simple, you have to scare the hell out of them.” With that response, she turned on to walk back to get us the promised beverages.

Alone for a few moments, I tried to take stock of everything I was thinking and feeling. First, I felt relief - relief that I wasn’t being accosted or harassed by drunk men, and relief that Alan was nowhere near me. I also felt happy, that I felt a connection with another human being in a way I hadn’t felt in a while. Finally, I felt pleasure. Pleasure? Maybe not the right word, maybe more like enjoyment. I was enjoying her presence, enjoying our interaction, and even the physical contact. Something I needed and was not getting. Wonderful sensations, pleasurable sensations. My mind finally relented, and I embraced the word pleasure, just simple pleasure.

Elena

I was practically giggling as I made my way into the raucous noise of the ballroom to hunt down some drinks for Tamara and me. Predictably, as soon as I started making my way through the noisy crowd, I could see lewd expressions and crooked smiles on the faces of most of the men there, and a few judgy looks from the women who obviously knew I was gay. Truthfully, I didn’t give a shit, I already had found a nice little oasis I planned to retreat to. I had alarm bells going off in my head because Tamara was clearly straight. She was married, had long fingernails, and gave off a clear men-only vibe. I just reminded myself that we were just talking, and that falling for a straight girl - especially one married to one of my coworkers - was definitely in the ‘no-no’ column.

Shockingly, the line to the bar was very short and I winked at the female bartender, who blushed in response. “Four rum and cokes, make them strong please,” I said with a smile.

She smiled back, not in a flirtatious way but in a friendly one. “Gonna be tough to carry all those without dropping them.”

I glanced around. There was no one waiting at the moment and the traffic at that small bar didn't seem to be increasing any time soon. “Hey, if you carry them out with me I will tip you a twenty.”

She nodded, and after mixing the drinks, slipped them onto a dark tray and started following me out. I could feel her eyes on me, probably watching my hips or ass swaying as I walked, convincing me she was probably at least bi. So far my gaydar was pretty accurate, but I wasn’t getting a ping from Tamara. Well, a girl can dream, right?

Tamara was looking at her phone when the server and I came closer, catching her off guard, but she smiled broadly when she saw the two of us, though I secretly hoped it was just me that triggered that reaction.

“Your drinks as promised, dear lady,” I said, giving an exaggerated bow.

Tamara barely seemed to notice the blonde carrying the drinks, looking squarely at me instead. “Wow, is that all for me?” she said, giggling.

“Why, do you have to drive later?” I answered, giggling in response, surprised she was making me feel giddy.

Tamara stuck her tongue out at me playfully. “In theory no, but Alan will probably be shit-faced later. If I have to, I’ll get a taxi.” The bartender sat the drinks down on the marble surface of the marble rain encircling the fountain and quickly excused herself.

“Alan… as in Alan Reynolds?” I asked, trying to keep the attitude out of my voice. Alan Reynolds was the top sales rep at Bessmer, one that was a notorious asshole and someone I clashed with almost daily. Most of the snide comments I endured early on at the company came courtesy of him. Knowing that this beautiful woman was married to the likes of him made me feel infinitely sorry for her, and evoked even more animosity towards him.

Tamara blushed. “Ah, I can tell from your tone that you aren’t a fan,” she said, trying to sound casual, taking a large sip of the drink.

I could tell by her body language that there was a bigger story behind it, and none of it good. I didn't pity her. I felt genuinely sorry for her, I could only imagine how difficult it was to live with a man like him. “Well if he ever lays a hand on you, let me know and I’ll kick his ass!” I said, without thinking.

Tamara smiled, but it was a pained smile that I could see right through, which told me that her husband had hit her, more than once I would have guessed. She nodded and just softly said, “Thank you.”

She appeared to be shaking a bit, so without thinking I hugged her, and to my surprise she just relaxed into me, communicating a trust that was unusual for someone she just met. Tamara’s hair smelled like strawberries, and her perfume filled my nostrils, her body lightly against mine, feeling her warmth. It would be so easy to kiss her right then, it felt right, but I reminded myself that she was straight. I knew I was headed for trouble when my mind wandered to how her lips would feel, how her skin would feel on mine. I gently released her, allowing her to get her composure back.

For the next forty minutes, we chatted about so many subjects, our mutual love of the outdoors, hiking, camping, fashion styles, favorite television dramas, and such. As the drinks took effect, we both got giggly, and our inhibitions loosened up, Tamara’s in particular. I found myself touching her more, nothing sexual, just a touch on the arm or shoulder, a few times on her lower back or hip as I leaned in to whisper something, all of which she accepted without a hint of alarm or resistance. I fetched us both another round of drinks, which she eagerly accepted and started consuming.

“Oooo slow down there, babe, you don’t want to get so drunk you can’t walk,” I giggled, slapping her on the hip.

Tamara laughed, almost too loudly. “No, ma'am, this is the best time I have had in forever. You’re an angel,” she answered.

“Probably more of a fallen angel,” I quipped.

Tamara smiled, leaning in and playfully nudging on my waist with her elbow. “And she knows how to flirt too,” she said, with an open-mouthed laugh that made my tummy quiver.

“Oh, babe you are too gorgeous to resist,” I responded, assuming it was all in fun, but trying to be careful. I could tell we were inching towards dangerous territory, resisting the urge to get closer to her.

“Irresistible huh?” Tamara giggled. “Well, we are far enough away from getting into trouble from the drunk guys.”

“Oh, the drunk girls are just as much trouble, well the ones that like girls,” I said, instantly wishing I had kept my mouth shut. Well I blew it, that would send her heading for the hills, or her idiot husband.

Tamara broke into a grin. “Ah, I wondered if you… were… well…” she stammered, as if worried about offending me, which made me like her all the more.

“A lesbian?” I asked, laughing openly now. “Yes, never been with a man… ever.” I fought to keep from adding, It’s absolutely amazing, you should try it.

She smiled, no fear in her eyes, as if it was something as casual as where I was born or something. “That’s cool. Also explains at least one reason you aren’t keen on my hubby, he is pretty… narrow-minded. More like flat out homophobic.” Just the way she said it, almost with disdain, told me she was anything but that.

As if on some sort of twisted cue, I heard the familiar grating (but obviously drunk) voice of Alan Reynolds calling out Tamara’s name, repulsed at how cheap he made it sound. She rolled her eyes and scowled visibly, as if she now trusted me enough to show a side of her she hid well. “Well I guess my first fun evening in forever is over now,” she said, sighing. I saw the fear creep back in her eyes, and the confident fun woman I had been spending time with retreat behind a composed exterior. Almost as if an afterthought, she reached into her purse and retrieved her business card, which read Tamara Reynolds, IT Consultant and the name of the company she worked for along with contact information.

“I would love to have coffee with you,” I said with a smile, taking the card from her hand. “Just as friends.”

Tamara smiled at me and nodded, saying softly, “I would like that.” Within an instant, she was gone. I knew that I would not be able to resist fantasizing about her later, not that I would have anyway.

Tamara

My mind was adrift in space as I stared around aimlessly, thoughts completely on autopilot, relaxing but still feeling nervous, hoping that Alan would be engrossed enough in his own fun to forget about me for a while. I loved him, but truthfully hadn’t enjoyed his company for a long time. In fact, my greatest moments of enjoyment happened when he was away on business and I could be myself for a change. A few minutes later, I could hear the clinking sound of ice in a drink… several drinks it seemed like… and I peeked around to see Elena headed back with a server carrying drinks. The girl was cute but I found myself looking at Elena, her full lips in particular. Nothing wrong with admiring beauty, right?, I thought to myself.

Elena gave what looked like a practiced bow, a bit grandiose but it brought a smile to my face nonetheless. “Wow,” I said, “Is all that just for me?”

She flashed a smile that was mischievous and daring, answering, “Why, are you driving later?”

I grinned at her playfulness. “Not necessarily, but Alan will probably be dead drunk, so I might have to. Nah, I can get a cab,” I said, breathing out my words.

Elena’s expression instantly changed from smiling and playful to almost angry, making my stomach tighten as if I had uttered some horrible profanity. “Alan… Reynolds?” she said in a distasteful tone.

I found my face getting red. This was not the first time I had talked to someone who disliked my husband, and it would certainly not be the last. These conversations always embarrassed me, I had made so many excuses for him over the years and it exhausted me. Right then and there I decided I had had enough of that. I took a big gulp of my drink, hoping it would give me some courage. “Hmmm, not a fan I take it?” I said with a smile.

Elena’s hardened expression melted away as soon as I said that and took on a warm and soft look for a moment. Then, she smiled and said, “Well hun, if he ever raises a hand to you, I will personally come over and kick his ass!”

In that second I pictured her as Wonder Woman, delivering a kick to his chin and sending him flying across the room. For a second I felt a bit exposed, because I all too easily give away how I am feeling by the expression on my face. The idea of appearing as a victim to this delightful new acquaintance felt absolutely shameful, so I gritted my teeth and just mouthed, “Thank you.”

Without warning, Elena slipped her arms around me and gently pulled me into her. My first instinct was to pull away, but something about the way she was holding me felt deeply comforting. I didn’t take it as some sort of romantic gesture, it felt platonic and genuinely affectionate, and I let myself just settle into it.

When you are in an abusive relationship, it’s almost staggering to the mind when you realize how isolated the abuser makes you feel, cutting you off from family, friends, anything that could jeopardize their hold on you. Elena was the first real connection I had made in what seemed like years, and the realization overwhelmed me for a second or two, which I hoped she couldn’t tell. I felt warm, safe, protected and actually valued, which felt out of place with someone I had just met that evening.

“Let me go get us a few more drinks,” Elena whispered as she released me, walking off to the bar once more. I watched her as she wandered away, admiring the grace she walked with, genuinely finding her beautiful, as a friend would. That’s what it was, right? Just appreciating beauty? I had never really entertained any physical attraction to another woman, but I did have to admit that something about Elena felt magnetic. My mind started to wander in that direction, but being a good catholic girl, I pushed it out of my mind as I anticipated her return.

Elena came back a couple of minutes later with more drinks, this time carrying the tray herself. We clinked glasses in a toast, though within a few minutes it felt more like toasted. I could feel my well-practiced protective exterior melting away and the real me revealing itself like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. It felt glorious, even liberating. We talked about so many things, hobbies, likes, dislikes, favorite music and movies, and other topics I couldn't even remember later. If Elena had been a guy, I would have felt it was some kind of date, though acknowledging that would have felt like I was edging toward some form of infidelity towards Alan.

I found myself giggling a lot, and enjoying her company, which felt progressively more friendly without being inappropriate, touching me as we talked and laughed and even leaning in a time or two to whisper something to me. I grabbed another drink and took a big swallow of it, wanting the buzz I was feeling to last as long as possible.

“Whoa there, slow down there hun,” Elena said, almost reaching for the glass in my hand. “You don’t want to be so drunk that you can’t walk!”

While I could tell her concern was nothing more than caring, I changed my mind when I felt her slap my hip, high up enough that it didn’t feel as anything more than playful. “Oh hell no, ma'am, this is the best time I have had for as long as I can remember!” I said, giggling so much I almost snorted the beverage. With a wink, I added, “You’re an absolute angel.” After I said it, I feared that it sounded flirtatious, but kept my composure.

Elena smiled so big it exposed every one of her perfectly straight teeth. She bit her lip for a second, replying, “Oh, I am more of… a fallen angel.” And with that, she giggled again.

I felt a chill run up my spine, as the comment and her tone sounded delightfully flirtatious, which in my tipsy state of mind actually sounded appealing, since it made me feel attractive. “Oh and she knows how to flirt too!” I replied, almost without thinking. I nudged her to get back at her for poking me earlier.

Elena bit her lip again, and this time I let myself enjoy the sight without analyzing it in the least. “But you are… irresistible,” she said with a wink.

At that point, I was relatively certain that Elena was a lesbian, or at least bi. I have never been homophobic, but I did feel an inward panic that I had voluntarily ventured into forbidden territory - being catholic and all. I did my best to change the direction the conversation was heading by deflecting a bit, playing a little dumb in the process. Retreating back into my shell a bit, I put on a practiced smile and said, “We are far enough away from the party to avoid the drunk guys.” I am pretty clever, I thought.

Elena must have seen right through my attempts, because she smiled and said, “Well drunk girls are just as much trouble… well… if you like girls, that is.” I saw her eyes flash with a bit of worry that she had said too much.

At that point, I wanted her not to feel bad, plus it felt like it was a good time to get everything out on the table so to speak. I smiled. “Ah, I wondered if you were…” I started, not sure what to say next without offending her. Gay? Lesbian? Bisexual?” My mind went instantly blank and I felt like a first-class idiot.

“Lesbian?” Elena said, supplying the much-needed word. “Absolutely. Never been with a man, and no plans to either,” she said, laughing out loud, out of sheer entertainment or relief, maybe both?

Elena opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but I cut her off. “That’s cool and explains at least one reason you don’t like my husband, he can be pretty closed-minded. Downright homophobic in fact,” I said, almost relieved that everything was out in the open now.

“T-Tam--Tamarrrraaaa”

I winced as I heard my clearly drunken husband calling me, trying to figure out where I was. I knew better than to try eluding him, all it would serve to do is just piss him off more. I groaned and rolled my eyes, angry that he was now ruining what I had felt to be a perfect evening. “Well, I guess my perfect night is over now,” I muttered angrily, knowing the sooner I went and ‘let’ him find me the better off I would be. I rummaged through my purse and found one of my business cards, shoving it in her hand as fast as I could. “Let’s have coffee… friends, okay?”

And in a flash, I was gone.

Elena

At that point, I had no reason to stay or even pretend that I wanted to be there, so I made my way to the lobby, avoiding the party and anyone associated with it. I was feeling enough of a buzz to distract my ability to drive, so I walked out to the curb and hailed a cab. The driver, a middle-aged Russian-looking man, tried to make conversation, but stopped soon after when I made it politely clear that I was not interested in small talk. My mind had a single focus, Tamara, and no one else was welcome in that private space. I liked her. I was attracted to her. I wanted her, and she was all I could think about. The rest of the ride home was a blur and I barely remembered it, all I wanted was to be back in my apartment, where I could be alone with my thoughts.

Once I was in my own private haven, I sat on the bed and thought about her again, this time without any restraint, closing my eyes and letting my mind and body go where it wanted to. I was back at the hotel, still secluded behind the fountain, and we were both giggling and feeling good. I told Tamara that she was beautiful, gorgeous even, and deserved way better than she was getting, whispering it in her ear as I put my body against hers.

As I heard her surprised gasp, I kissed her neck tenderly, sensually, and in a way, I am sure her man, or any man for that matter, had ever done. Tamara tried to stifle a moan and even resist but I knew it felt way too good for that to last long. I kept up the slow wet kisses, and nibbled her neck, making her shake in my arms, turning me on all the more. I led her to a cab, to my apartment door, and finally to my bedroom, the place where I would make her feel things she never imagined possible.

My lips found hers, giving her small, soft, wet kisses that made her give in more and more to me, to the passion we were both feeling, something so delicious, sensual and intimate. Unzipping her dress, I kissed every exposed spot of skin, making her moan for me, yes, for me, causing me to whisper how much I wanted her. Tamara was so turned on that all she could manage was a whispered, “Yes.”

As her dress fell to the floor, my eyes were drawn to her breasts, tastefully guarded by a red lace bra. I kissed her neck again, lingering on her collarbone, and then kissing the entire view of her exposed skin, not rushing anything. After a few minutes of that, I slid her bra straps down, slowly, teasingly, building up the anticipation, knowing they had to be magnificent, discarding it once they were in full view.

Slipping my hands upwards, I cupped them, making Tamara moan loudly now, making me smile. Her pert nipples were already hard, revealing her desire, silently calling my lips to them, but holding back for a few seconds while I ran my thumbs over them.

“Yes, yes Elena… please.” she moaned loudly.

Obliging her request, I kissed down to her right nipple and wrapped my lips gently around it, feeling her body jolt and her back arch, her hands cradling me, encouraging me to do more. My lips and tongue began stimulating it, making her squirm. I pushed her back on the bed gently, sliding my leg between hers, my hands slipping down to her hips, grinding her pussy on me. Tamara started gyrating, grinding back on me, and I let go once I knew she was doing it on her own. I could feet her heat, her wetness, her desire, lesbian desire, and she had given herself over to it, and by extension to me.

I continued sucking rhythmically on her right breast, switching to her left to ensure nothing was left un-pleasured. Reaching down to her hips again, I tugged at her panties, signaling my intentions, causing her to lift her hips and shimmy them down far enough for me to remove them. I stopped for just a moment, looking up and locking eyes with her, as if asking for permission. Tamara parted her legs while looking into my eyes, and once I looked down at her beauty, I couldn’t resist. I had to taste her. I was going to taste her. And she was begging me to.

I nuzzled her pussy, breathing in deeply and letting her scent intoxicate me all the more, and I planted my lips on hers, making her back arch and her to cry out a name….my name. She tasted incredible! As I pushed my tongue deep into her, Tamara slipped her hands in my hair, moaning so deeply that I couldn’t help but making love to her with everything that was in me. She trembled, tugged at my hair, ground herself into my mouth with an eagerness that took my breath away. I knew she wouldn’t last long, I began slowly sucking on her clit to make it happen, feeling her orgasm erupt and thrash almost violently, consumed totally in the moment, and back in reality I cried out as I rode out the most powerful orgasm I had felt in ages.

I knew it could never happen, that she was straight and could never be interested in me sexually, that’s what fantasies are all about, right? That night I slept so soundly that I was shocked to discover it was gone ten when I woke up the next morning.

Tamara

Alan started walking to the car, insisting he was fit to drive, even though his slurred words and bumbling walk screamed otherwise. I knew if I said anything that I risked getting hit, so I had to think creatively to prevent the both of us getting in a fatal accident, though admitting to myself that he would likely come out unscathed like everything else in his life. I looked back towards the entrance, searching for some thread of hope, and caught the eye of a police officer that had pulled up to ask the valet a question. I flailed my hand frantically behind Alan’s back, and once I had his attention, pointed down, desperately hoping he would understand.

Fortunately, he understood my predicament, though I was certain he was silently judging me for not standing up to him myself.

“Sir, everything ok?” he asked, coming to stand in front of Alan. “You’ve been drinking, I can smell it. Not planning to drive are you?”

“I onalyyyy had a few, ociffer, officer,” Alan slurred.

“Sir, if you get behind the wheel, I will arrest you for a DUI before you even pull out of the parking lot,” the officer said with a smile. Turning his attention briefly to me, he added, “And your lovely wife seems to have had a few enough to be in the same boat.”

Alan straightened up once he heard the word arrest and simply nodded. I said nothing, but mouthed a silent “thank you” to the officer as he waved a yellow cab over from the hotel's taxi stand. I felt clever for a moment but then realized that it could still blow up in my face if I said the wrong thing on the way home.

While not religious, I said a quiet thank you to God once we got in the cab and headed home. Alan was so out of it that anything he said came out as gibberish, but he seemed blissfully unaware of anything, including me.

Once home, I managed to get him as far as the couch in the living room, and once there he sank into the cushions and began snoring loudly. This had happened before, and I knew that in the morning he would not say a word about it. I pulled an unused blanket from the ottoman, not that he would notice the gesture but figured it was the least I could do.

I shook my head as I removed my heels, not wanting to make any sound that might bring Alan back to consciousness. With any luck, he would sleep until noon and I could enjoy some personal peace and quiet for a change. Grasping the railing, the carpet on the stairs hugged my bare feet like a comfy blanket, making me smile at the sensation. I walked quietly down the hall towards the bedroom, entering the room and closing the door behind me. As I flicked on the light switch, I saw my reflection in the full-length mirror inside. It was strange, but I smiled at myself---I felt attractive and for once actually liked the woman staring back at me. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt truly attractive, desirable, or hot. My husband did a better job of tearing down my self-esteem than he ever did building it up, being a pretty prop on his arm didn’t count.

My eyes ran up and down my image, once again smiling as I appraised my appearance, a bit mystified at what boosted my ego this much, since I had ruled out Alan as any credible source. Of course, tonight was the first time in ages that I had enjoyed any meaningful social contact, and frankly, it was as fun as it was liberating. Maybe that was it, maybe it was just talking with Elena, but would that make me feel attractive? She had made me feel visible, like I mattered, like I was important enough to listen to, laugh with, and just hang out with. And even flirt with.

I shook my head for a moment, shocked at the recollection that Elena had been flirting, and even more, that I flirted back. I had always been a good catholic girl, so any same-sex sexual interaction had always been strictly taboo. I was straight after all, and liked men, well maybe not the one passed out drunk downstairs, but men nonetheless.

But someone had been attracted enough to me to engage in light but open flirtation, complete with smiles, giggles, and non-threatening touches. When was the last time I had any real physical contact with another person that felt nice, even if it was relatively innocent? And yes, I could admit it felt nice and still be straight, I could even flirt with another woman and not be anything else. I had to admit it felt pretty damn great in fact, given how beautiful she was. Hmm was that stepping too far out? Probably not.

I unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor, and shed my bra right after. As I started to peel off my red lace panties, I noticed a wet spot, which surprised me, but I chalked it up to just harmless stimulation, especially since it had been ages since I had been touched in any tender way. I opened my clothes drawer and pulled out a long nightshirt with Minnie Mouse on the front - one of my favorite Disney characters - and slipped into bed. My eyelids felt heavy, and I fell asleep in minutes.

My dreams were vivid, containing flashes of the images from the evening, of Elena and I talking by the fountain, mostly just laughing, but then her words echoed in my mind, You are too gorgeous to resist. It was like her lips were at my ear, and she was whispering it to me, but it had a different tone than I remembered, it was husky and filled with desire. I felt her pull my body against hers, breasts pressing together, and her lips touching my neck. I moaned. I didn’t care about anything else but how it felt. How she felt. I moaned. She kept kissing my neck, and eventually my lips, which parted in seconds allowing the kiss to deepen even more.

I awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright, mind spinning, trying to process what I had seen and felt, realizing after a few seconds that I had been dreaming. Once that realization hit me, my anxiousness melted away. It was just a dream, dreams don’t mean anything, they aren’t reality. At that moment, I felt a strong urge to masturbate, but concerned that I might let my thoughts drift the wrong way, I resisted, closing my eyes and trying to fall back asleep. Fortunately, I succeeded, and couldn’t remember any other dreams the next morning.