I remember one morning, I was standing in line for coffee. It wasn't my usual place and I was killing time before a very boring meeting. The woman at the counter was dealing with a very confused pair of women who kept changing their order. I shook my head in sympathy, some people really shouldn't buy coffee if making an order is that much work.

The door tinkled behind me and closed with a creaking thud. I saw a shadow tower over me, a very thin shadow. Probably one of the college kids on the basketball team. Some of them are like beanstalks, tall enough to reach the moon and thin enough to make a supermodel feel fat. Bastards. I wish I had a metabolism like that.

I looked behind the counter and caught a reflection of who was behind me in the polished chrome of the coffee machine.

They were tall, over six feet tall.

Nothing remarkable in that, there are a lot of tall men in the world. Dark suit jacket, dark pants, dark formal shoes too. They must be going to a meeting too. Only no tie around their neck, probably in the jacket pocket.

Finally, my turn to order a large Americano, with 3 shots, to go.

The barista smiled, it's almost impossible to mess up an order that simple and clear.

The machine whirled, belched and spluttered. Dark gold poured into the paper cup. The aroma of the beans made my eyes water.

"Colombian, single-origin beans, they are amazing." The barista answered my unspoken question with a proud gentle tone. Only a devotee of coffee gets misty-eyed at the scent of a good roast.

I paid for mine and left a big tip to compensate for those clueless fools who couldn't remember their order. I stepped to the side to get some sugar and that's when I saw the figure behind me more closely.

Gold wired glasses, a mannish suit, but that walk was totally feminine. Men don't roll their hips like that.

That crisp white shirt might have been a man's shirt, but the torso under it wasn't ramrodded straight. There were curves under there, subtle ones, but they were there.

The clincher was the lips; no man's lips are that soft and sensual. She might have been rocking mannish butch, but that was definitely a woman.

I heard her low husky voice order and took my time with the sugar.

Call me shallow, but I like tall women. I'm five foot eight, which is taller than a lot of women I know. Put my hair up and slip on some heels, and I'm touching six feet. Height counts when dealing with some men.

This woman was over six feet, six foot three or so if the shelving was a good indicator.

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Gawd, I love tall women.

Maybe it goes back to the first woman to teach me the way to properly live my life. She was six feet tall in her bare feet and more than capable of reducing me to a quivering satisfied heap on the bed.

"Oh, excuse me, could you pass me the stirrer, please?" Her voice was soft, low, oddly shy.

I stepped to the side and with nimble fingers, she plucked what she wanted and stirred her tea.

I noticed how big they were but how elegant the fingers were.

Like she could be a piano player, a painter or a surgeon.

I looked up into her eyes; beautiful blue eyes. For a moment, I could hear the mocking laughter of children, the awkward silences in conversations when she walked into a room, her being called Sir by people who only saw the suit and the height. I could feel the loneliness.

I had an aunt that tall. Men felt threatened by her height, her intelligence and her sharp wit.

So, they'd try to change the subject to things she couldn't possibly know anything about: sports, finance, cars.

She did know about them, though, more than they did. The conversation would drift into long silences till she moved on.

Women didn't know what to make of her. She towered over them, never wore a dress or much makeup. She didn't have a man in her life or seem to want one. She didn't want to talk about other people’s love lives, or babies, or fashion. So, they just waited for her to move on.

Not womanly enough to be part of her sisters and too much of a woman to be part of the men's circle. I knew how lonely her life was.

"Um, I hope you don't think this is too forward, but I... I'd like to talk to you if that's ok. I'm Lauren." My voice came out in a high-pitched nervous squeak. Gawd, what must she think of me?

"Ahhh, sure. I guess. I'm Kara." Such a soft, shy voice. I could feel the tension in her, just in the way she stood.

Other people judged her, made her feel less than or 'other'.

We took our drinks outside and walked along the street.

I envied her long elegant stride.

Even in dress shoes, she had the easy stride my father and his brothers had. She had all the time in the world and was just taking it easy.

Gawd, I felt a flush of heat on my cheeks. I hoped I wasn't blushing.

Please, let me not be blushing.

If you're saying that to yourself, you're blushing.

"Are you ok? You seem flushed.” That lovely soft voice.

Before I could think about it or even stop myself, I answered, "I... I like tall women. You can walk into a room and people get out of the way for you. If you speak to a man about something, they look you in the eye and not down your cleavage." My voice was passionate, filled with a shorter woman's envy.

"You can buy jeans in your own leg length without having to get them taken up. You can take an escalator in a store and not worry some man is going to try to take a photo of your knickers up your dress on his phone. Gawd, I envy you so."

I licked my lips and continued.

"You have that long easy stride of someone who never needed to wear heels. Gawd, I wish I could walk like that. Like Katherine Hepburn."

A deep chuckle surprised me; she was looking at me from her huge height. Her mouth opened in a low laugh; her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. The tension seemed to have left her.

"That's true. People do get out of my way when I walk into a room; what you don't see is they don't talk to me. I'm this mannish freak that sounds like a woman. Sure, I can get a man to look me in the eye when he talks to me; he just won't ever consider me a woman. He won't notice my perfume, my new earrings or compliment me on anything. No man has ever bought me a drink in a bar or asked for my number."

She took a mouthful of her tea and continued walking.

"I envy what you have too. You have that honey blonde hair I see in the movie stars like Marilyn Monroe. You have tits and an ass, where all I have is an ironing board. You walk into a room and people light up to see you. That barista was giving you the eye and you didn't notice. I don't get that kind of look from my cat when I feed her."

We found a bench on the street to sit for a few moments.

Quiet slurps as we drained our cups and thought of what to say.

"I guess the other girl always has it better than you, eh. Look, this might be pushing my luck, but I'd like to see you again." My voice was throbbing with sincerity.

"Really? I didn't expect this when I went in for tea." She sounded surprised like she wasn't sure I was serious.

Without a word, I took out the receipt for my coffee and taking a pen out of my jacket pocket. I wrote my name and number then I held it out to her.

"What's this for?" came the awkward response.

"Girls like me get a few numbers passed their way. I thought you'd like to be the one who got the number for a change." My voice was flirtatious and gentle.

I slipped the piece of paper into her hand and pressed my lips against her cheek, leaving a small red mark on where my lips had been.

We parted then, she had an appointment to keep and I had that boring meeting.

I didn't think anything of it for a while. My head was full of work stuff. Two days later I got a phone call.

"Uhh, hi, it's me, Kara. The woman you met at the coffee shop. I've never been given someone's private number before. Do... Would... I need to collect my cat from the vet, and I'd like you to meet her. My cat, I mean. Is one o'clock good for you?" She sounded nervous like she was trying to ask me out but didn't know how.

"Hi Kara, I remember you. I'd love to meet your cat. One o'clock is great for me."

We arranged to meet at her vet's.

I spent an hour scanning my clothes for something just right.

Ooh, the red dress, my tits look amazing in it. No, it's too try-hard for the vet. Ooh, that fab blue shirt dress. Oh, gods, what if she's wearing a shirt? It might make her self-conscious.

Inch by inch, I went through the wardrobe. Finally, I figured low key and friendly was the vibe I needed.

On went the sage green chinos, the converse hi-tops, pale pink top and the brown leather jacket.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

My legs looked fab; my ass was tight and juicy. I'd popped the twins into a comfy Sloggi bra. Not too sex pot and not too surgical support either.

I slapped my ass and watched it jiggle. Some people go hunting with rifles; I go hunting in an outfit like this.

I met Kara at the vet's, and she was still wearing a suit. Pinstripe navy this time. Matching shoes and earrings this time. Simple gold studs, I didn't notice ear piercings last time. On anyone else, they'd just be a casual thing; on her, they were proper femme glamour. She was also carrying a cat carrier, a furry face scowled.

"Hi Kara, I love your earrings. The gold looks so good on your skin tones. Pinstripe suit, bringing out the big guns today. Anyone you're trying to impress?" My voice was playful, gently mocking but genuinely warm. I liked Kara and I wanted her to like me too.

"Yeah, there was. Golly, you look good. Am I keeping you from a hot date with some supermodel? I don't want to keep you if you're busy." She sounded nervous, genuinely anxious not to keep me from someone or something else. I could only imagine the number of times she'd had to say that line.

"No. I'm here for you and a certain furball. Hello, kitty." I was using that high pitched sing-song voice people use for talking to animals and small children.

"Her name's Pandora. She leaves some horrors in her box," Kara laughed nervously.

"Hello, Pandora," I said to the scowling cat. An answering mew from the cat carrier.

"You look lovely, Kara. That suit looks amazing on you and those earrings. You have beautiful ears; you should show them off more." I smiled and looked into her eyes.

She looked at the cat carrier, waiting for a word of protest from the cat.

I hooked my arm in hers and together we walked back to her place; a lovely apartment in one of the older parts of the city.

Pandora was much relieved when she got released from the carrier. She shook her fur like she was shaking off the taint of the V-E-T. She sat on the windowsill and washed herself contentedly.

She looked very happy to be home. I so wanted to scratch her ears and stroke that fur, but cats have to come in their own good time.

Kara sat next to me and put two steaming cups of tea on the table.

"Oh jeez, you're a coffee drinker. I forgot. I'm sorry." Her face flushed crimson with embarrassment.

I silenced her with a kiss, pressing my lips softly against hers. Our lips warm where they touched. I left it to linger for a moment. Her words stopped in mid-flow by my sudden kiss.

I stroked her cheeks and kissed her again. Not an innocent little peck on the lips, a proper lovers kiss.

Kara's eyes opened wide in shock.

Gawd! Tall girls aren't used to being viewed as prey.

I gripped the back of her neck and kissed her hard.

I felt her shiver at my touch, a tiny cry of surprise before I slipped my tongue into her mouth.

My fingers slid under that suit jacket; they knew just where to touch. They found her nipples, small and proud. Fingers gave them a tweak and I got a moan in response. I growled in the kiss and leaned forward, pushing Kara backwards.

Pandora finished washing herself and slid noiselessly into the sphinx position, well known to cats owners everywhere, to watch the show.

Kara wasn't used to being seduced, so she let me lead. People always underestimate a Femme Top. The fools.

With quick skilful gestures, I peeled Kara out of her suit jacket and tossed it to one side.

I didn't give her a moment to complain or think of the tea slowly cooling in the mugs.

I locked my lips to hers and devoured her mouth.

My hot tongue found hers and they danced; hers uncertain, mine with total conviction.

Her shirt buttons popped open one by one as I undressed her. Finally, I pulled her shirt open in triumph and released her mouth.

Her eyes were woozy, her breath heavy, her heart pounded in her ears. I crowed at the sight of my prize and I swooped like a falcon.

My hot eager mouth found her nipples. I licked slow circles around each one and ran my teeth along with them. Kara wailed loudly and bucked helplessly.

My prey wasn't going to escape that easily; I was going to feast and this was only the beginning.

I sucked those nipples into my mouth one at a time and suckled lovingly from them. Fingers at the back of my neck tried to hold me in place or to move me. I knew what I was doing.

My fingers slid down and unzipped those trousers.

Like daring thieves, my fingers slid inside and found her panties.

Oh, such tight panties they were, with a lovely growing wet spot to tell me just how I was doing.

Fingers stroked up and down in the middle of that wet spot. Kara jerked violently in surprise and almost fell off the couch.

I was having none of that and ran my nails along the drooling slit under the fabric.

A gurgling cry told me I'd hit my mark. I feasted on those lovely nipples while my fingers made poor Kara melt.

I wrapped one arm around her and held her close when her first climax struck. She cried with pleasure and latched her mouth to mine. So needy and so loving.

When she came back to earth, we decided the tea didn't matter and neither did the cat.

We did the strange bedroom dance everyone does where we undressed each other, pulling off stubborn shoes or kicking our way out of trousers. Finally, we crashed onto her bed and didn't bother with words.

Mouths found nipples; fingers found warm, delicious wonder between willing thighs. Wordless shrieks erupted from our throats.

Again and again, we took each other higher than we'd ever been before.

We rolled onto each other; strong hands slipped under hips and pulled down hard. Thirsty throats were soothed with large draughts of sweet nectar. Until at last spent, we lay there drenched in sweat, covered in each other’s body fluids. Minds reduced to primitive grunts; muscles ached in that glorious way the well-fucked know all too well.

We slept in each other's arms. For once, I was Little Spoon.

Things went very quickly after that. Until one day, very recently, there was a series of sharp little knocks on the front door.

I stepped out of the kitchen—my hair in the loose ponytail beloved of bakers and cooks.

Dressed in a comfy blue shirt dress and Ugg boots, I opened the door. Three little faces looked up at me, and one slightly weary one. My sister Libby and her smallies: Owen, Katie and Simon. Hurried words before she departed, leaving them with me. Excited little voices filled the house.

"Auntie Lauren, mommy says we can spend the whole day with you." A torrent of childish happy babble.

"Yes, my darlings, you can, now let's get you some breakfast; you need it with all the growing you're doing. Let's remind lazy Auntie Kara she needs to get up and join us." My voice loud and clear; it carried through the babble of voices and could be heard clearly in the main bedroom where lazy Auntie Kara hadn't gotten up yet.

Auntie Kara? Well, I did say I liked tall women. Together for three years now, and we still have Pandora too. However, she prefers to sleep on top of the fridge where the kids can't pull her tail when they visit.