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Butch Ch. 01

By: DaphneX



Clutching her purse, portfolio, and a pair of heels, Kate locked the door of her upstairs apartment and jogged to her car parked down the street. She was meeting Ben Sklar at The Nines in twenty-five minutes, and she was determined to be on time. Things have definitely changed. Kate’s life in New York became unbearable—the chaotic frenzy of the city, her overindulgence in work, her relationships with women who either could not commit, or couldn’t sit still. Though she still thought of Darcy, how much she wanted it to work. But the constant traveling, the ephemeral rendezvous, the cancellations, the absences…it all just added up to too much.

San Francisco’s cityscape basked in the hazy summer sun. She’s only been here a month and a half, but she’s falling in love with the city. Not a bad setup either—a one-bedroom on the ‘good’ side of Market, networking with gallery owners downtown, yoga classes, and the convertible old Chevy she’s always wanted. Even if it’s a bit more battered than she had hoped for, it makes her happy. 

“Come on baby,” she says, turning the key in the ignition. After a few coughs, the ’56 Chevy sputters to life. Kate turns on her portable radio (the one in the car only plays a cosmetic role). She pulls out onto Market, heading downtown. 

Traffic holes her up at a busy intersection. The light here takes forever to change. Looking to her left, Kate sees a car with two men. They’re talking, smiling at one another. The passenger giggles coyly as the driver playfully tossles his hair. She imagines this is their first date: how adorable they are in this new knowledge of one another. To her right is an elderly couple in a Mercedes. Dressed formally, they do not talk, but look straight ahead, almost silently urging the light to change. Kate smiles to herself, appreciating how eclectic this city is in its denizens, its polar opposites. And yet, she appears to be in the middle. 

Still five minutes left as she pulls up to the valet. The stocky valet compliments Kate on the car, telling her she looks to be the perfect ‘California girl.’ She smiles at this irony, thanking him for the compliment. She hands the valet her keys and eases into her high heels. As the door to the restaurant is opened for her, she can already see Ben at a nearby table. 

‘He’s early, damnit,’ she mutters, looking at her watch and smoothing her dress. He sits at a table for two, perusing the menu, a glass of wine already before him. Kate is approached by the maitre d’ and escorted to Sklar’s table. He rises to receive her, shaking her hand warmly.

‘So this is the famous Kate I’ve heard so much about. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ Ben smiles into her eyes, Kate noticing his eyes leisurely trailing along her body. She removes her light sweater, sitting down nervously. Roger had told her of this ‘reputable’ gallery owner, but she had no idea he’d be so creepy.

‘Thank you, Mr. Sklar. I….’ Kate began.

‘Please,’ he interrupts, touching her hand, ‘call me Ben.’

‘Very well, Ben,’ Kate smiles, ‘Roger had wonderful things to say about you as well.’

‘How do you like San Francisco? Quite a change from New York, isn’t it?’ He fills her glass with Merlot. 

‘Yes, it’s refreshing actually,’ she answers, opening the menu. ‘The architecture here is amazing, and the weather couldn’t be more perfect.’ She wishes he’d get to talking about the gallery already; this is supposed to be a business dinner.

‘Well, this city has its unique qualities—hope you don’t mind the women looking at you as much as the men,’ Ben chuckles to himself, taking a sip of his wine. 

Kate bites her tongue and pretends to ignore his comment as she studies the menu. ‘The Alaskan salmon sounds wonderful.’ She raises her portfolio, placing it on the table.

The kitchen was picking up pace—orders trickling in, as the dinner crowd began to show. Mike, the executive chef, ran to get the phone. He is a stout man you’d expect to see featured as an extra on The Sopranos—though his foul mouth was no indication of the miracles he performed with raw food and heat. He didn’t fit in with San Francisco or its inhabitants. But for his culinary skill and expertise, the price was right and The Nines fought to get him here.

‘What?! I can’t hear you, speak up!’ he yelled into the receiver. The dinner rush was characterized by the sounds of the radio above the dishwasher’s station, various pots and pans clanging, and general kitchen melee necessary for proper coordination. Mike’s face contorted, his teeth showing. He shot a quick glare to the dishwasher, indicating to turn down the music. It was done…immediately.

‘I’ll tell ya what, ya drunk piece of shit…’ he screamed into the phone, ‘Why don’t you take the rest of the goddamn YEAR off, cuz you’re not coming back into MY kitchen!’ he slammed the phone down. Looking around hurriedly, he assessed the damage. It would still be a while until the kitchen was at its most chaotic. 

Mike walked down the line, criticizing and complimenting his crew—mostly Hispanic men who could cook any celebrity chef under the table. He only hired two women—Sara, the homely patissier, was currently swamped in her corner of the kitchen, torching ramekins filled with custard. And Ryan—a small-framed butch woman who could hold her own on the line. He didn’t care for her lifestyle, but she was fast, accurate, and reliable. She knew her stuff.

He stopped behind her, watching her stir the near-perfect risotto. ‘Ryan, you’re on grill tonight. Manny’s out.’

Again? she thought, still stirring. Manny was a nice guy, and a good grill man. He’d just had problems keeping it together these last couple weeks. Glancing over her shoulder at the grill, she saw Armando wiping his brow, looking confused as he tried to coordinate the five filets in front of him. She nodded to Mike, and walked over to replace Armando. 

‘Hey Armo,’ she said, slapping her small hand playfully on his mountainous shoulder, ‘I’ll take it from here…Mike wants you on the line tonight.’

He took off his cap, his head sweaty from the open flame of the grill. He spoke little English, but seemed to understand it, as he always followed instructions perfectly. Nonetheless, he looked at Ryan and said simply, ‘muy caliente’ before walking away.

Ryan surveyed her new station…various cuts of meat cooling in the low boy underneath, hotel pans of several dry rubs to her left, garnish and sauces to her right, tongs and spatula hanging within easy reach. She stood a mere 5’3” tall, probably 110 pounds or so. From behind, she looked like a petite man, especially in her skull cap, which covered her short black hair, shaved and faded in the back. Ryan’s eyes, however, were remarkable. They looked hard, like she’d seen and put up with a lot. And tired, with grayish circles appearing around them—a clear sign of working too hard. But their color, a hazel-green, carried such a striking air of beauty, of utter femininity. She gave a quick glance at the clock. 6:20. Time would fly tonight.

And soon enough she was swamped with tickets. She had 15 cuts of beef and fish before her, her attention tuned to know their various degrees of doneness. She was in her rhythm now, thinking of hitting a bar after work, getting a beer, shooting some pool…

‘Refire, please,’ squeaked a runner, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. He stood erect, holding a plate that contained a perfectly cooked filet mignon. ‘Customer said it’s not cooked enough.’

Ryan, clearly annoyed, snatched the filet with her tongs. She tossed it onto a slow spot on the grill, giving it more fire. It was a little pink—perfect for medium in her opinion--but she was careful not to overcook and dry it out. She returned the filet back to the runner, still attending to her grill.

‘Here you are, sir,’ the waiter said, placing the refired filet in front of Ben. ‘I apologize. It should now be cooked to your liking.’ The waiter filled their wine glasses as Ben picked up his fork and knife, scrutinizing the filet.

Kate watched, sitting in front of a beautiful plate of Alaskan salmon, which was now getting cold because of Ben’s complaint. She casually glanced at her watch under the table. 

He sliced into the meat, shaking his head. ‘Tell the chef I want it well done,’ he said, handing it back. The waiter apologized again, hauling off the plate for another refire.

Ben had flitted through Kate’s now closed portfolio, and was now talking freely about his own opinions of art. He was on his third glass of wine; Kate had only one. He didn’t seem bothered by the steak being underdone, as if he was the sort of person who complained a lot, and was used to others ruefully trying to please him.

‘Please eat, Kate. They’re usually very good here, but every once in a while….’ he trailed off. He gestured for her to continue eating without him. She felt uncomfortable with this, as it wasn’t polite. But at the same time, she was hungry, and didn’t want this dinner that was already socially uncomfortable to drag on longer than it had to. Fork in hand, she tasted the garlic cream potatoes.

‘Who the HELL orders filet mignon WELL DONE?’ snapped Ryan, as she snatched the steak once again with her tongs, tossing it onto the grill in a burst of flame.

‘It’s that art critic guy,’ chimed the runner defensively, ‘ he comes in a lot.’

Ryan dashed past the line to get a look around the corner at the floor. Large crowd tonight, which was nice. Everyone seemed to be happy with their food. The runner pointed Ben out to Ryan. But her eyes landed on Kate, who looked nervously polite, eating capriciously in front of Ben, who was now talking to the manager and probably weaseling another bottle of wine on account of his steak being ‘cooked incorrectly’. Poor girl, Ryan thought. Though something about her didn’t look like the usual type of woman Ben Sklar dated.

‘You takin’ care of these, Ryan?’ called Scott, the sous chef. He was standing at the grill, tongs in hand, pointing at the filets. “The one in the corner looks like shit…it’s on the verge of well.”

‘It’s Sklar’s,’ she responded, walking up and taking the tongs from him. She plated the filet—now evenly brown in the middle—shaking her head. She personally made sure that the other components on the plate were perfectly cooked, beautifully arranged.

Kate tipped the valet and settled into the seat of her car, relieved that dinner was finally over. She couldn’t believe the audacity of that man—first to eye her so lasciviously, then to complain not once but TWICE about his food, which was fine to begin with! It was still early—only 7:30pm. She wasn’t tired, but didn’t feel like calling friends. She checked her cell phone—3 messages. It’s probably Kim, a woman she met a few months ago at a gallery opening in Seattle. Kim has lived in San Francisco most of her life, as an openly gay woman. She befriended Kate in Seattle, even though romance wasn’t really in the equation. But since Kate had moved here, they had been seeing a lot of one another, and while they hadn’t slept together yet, the potential was definitely there.

‘Hi sweetie,’ mused Kim on the voicemail, ‘just wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat, and maybe watch a movie. Oh wait…you have that dinner thing with Sklar. I forgot. Well, give me a call when you get in. Maybe we can figure something out for later. Bye.’ Kate could hear the smile in her voice in the message. She was suddenly excited to see Kim, to hear her voice in her ear, feel her touch on her cheek…. 

The other two messages would have to wait. Kate took a detour. Instead of turning to go home, she hung a left and headed toward Kim’s. She stopped at Pain de Mie, Kim’s favorite bakery, where she purchased her favorite dessert—tiramisu. Back in the car, she drove through the night, now painted in foggy shades of purples and oranges in the setting sun. She turned on Clayton, looking up at Kim’s apartment. It looked like a light was on, though she couldn’t see her car anywhere on the street. Kate parked on Belvedere, walking the block and a half to Kim’s place.

A man from the same building was walking out as Kate walked up the steps. He held the door for her. She thanked him, smiling to herself, thinking how she could surprise Kim now that she didn’t have to ring in. Tiramisu in hand, she ascended the flight of stairs to the second floor one bedroom apartment.

Kate moved to knock, then thought she’d try the knob first. It opened easily; Kim must be here. Coming from New York, Kate thought it strange that one could just leave their apartment door unlocked like this. But Kim had insisted she’d been doing it for years, that the building she lived in was so safe, her neighbors trustworthy. Nonetheless, Kate entered quietly. She closed the door, slipping off her shoes in the foyer.

She peeked into the kitchen, which was dark. But a light was on in the living room. Kate peered around the corner as she entered. The place was immaculate—the hardwood floors polished, covered by an area rug. She smiled, touching the cushion of the couch-futon, thinking of how Kim had kissed her here only a few days ago. Things would hopefully be going much further tonight. Her eyes then caught something odd in the dim light—a messenger bag near the bookcase. Not that that in itself was strange, but it had a small rainbow patch on the corner. Kim had been discussing her ‘rainbow theory’ the other day, saying she believed in its symbolism, but didn’t feel the need to advertise her sexuality.

A noise sounded in the adjacent room. Kate turned her attention from the messenger bag to the bedroom door, which was halfway open. Low music tones were now audible, a jazz cd perhaps. But there was more. Voices.

Kate approached steadily, feelings of fear and guilt in her stomach. Should she be doing this, sneaking up on Kim in her apartment? It’s not like they are in a committed relationship. But what was going on in that room? As she drew nearer, the sounds became more defined…kissing, moaning, sucking. Kate stood at the bedroom entrance, spying through the space between the jamb and the edge of the door. 

Kim was lying naked on the bed, head arched back, moaning softly. A long-haired brunette woman lay between her legs, supporting Kim’s thighs and ass in her hands. She kissed Kim’s inner thighs eagerly, Kim’s hands moving to her head, guiding her where she wanted most to be kissed. The woman flipped her hair back quickly, then planted her face firmly between Kim’s legs. Kim’s moans grew in volume and frequency.

‘Oh Jenna….you know exactly what I want…’

Apparently this Jenna did, asserting a muffled response. Her tongue was now clacking away, head moving slowly, Kim’s hips thrusting into her face. Kate, watching in astonishment, was actually quite aroused by this sight. Jealousy and hurt had poked her in the ribs, but these women were so in tune with one another, so incredibly sensual. It was strangely beautiful to watch.

Jenna…the name sounded so familiar. Had Kim mentioned her before? But the answer revealed itself immediately, as a slim, though obviously aroused black man appeared by the bedside. For fuck’s sake, he looked like a tripod. Patrick! It’s Jenna and Patrick—Kim’s next door neighbors….

Kim’s figure, which now lay askew on the bed, was blocked by Patrick, who appeared to be…oh God…rubbing his cock all over her face. Kate watched in disbelief, the level of her arousal sinking, that of hurt rising quickly. She didn’t want to see any more of this. It was bad enough hearing his repeated demands of ‘suck it baby…yeah…more’. She retreated slowly, edging her way out of the small space in which she had been standing. An audible crinkle made her stop suddenly and look down. The bag with the tiramisu was now underneath her naked foot…some of it squished between her toes and onto the wood floor. In horror, she looked back through the door jamb into the bedroom…positions had certainly changed, though it didn’t seem as they’d heard anything. Kate smirked…. ‘such wonderful neighbors’…. ‘they’re so accepting of me as a woman, as a lesbian’. Kim was so full of shit. Slowly walking on her heels, Kate eased her way out of the apartment. Kim can clean up the tiramisu herself; it was the only mess she could fix as far as Kate was concerned.

The tears didn’t come until she got to her car. She sat at the wheel, not knowing where to go, what to do with herself. In a city that seemed so welcoming, she suddenly felt so horribly alone.

‘Hey hey, there she is,’ the edgy femme bartender said with a sly smile. ‘We were just talking about you. How ya been, chef?’

Ryan walked into Violets Are Blue, a well-known lesbian bar (more of a dive, actually) in the city. She smiled tiredly at the small group of women who had turned to greet her from the bar. Others throughout the dim, red-tinged room had noticed her entrance as well…butches, femmes, and many in-betweens all seemed to find her attractive, or at least alluring. 

‘No complaints…just workin’ hard,’ she replied, walking up to the wall and taking a cue and a worn square of chalk. Bikini Kill was playing on the jukebox, and Ryan gave a little shake of her hips as she gathered everything up. She approached the pool table, which still had a tear in the fabric, precisely where the cue ball goes. Putting her index finger lightly under the torn piece, she smiled at the bartender.

‘I know…we’ve been meaning to get that fixed. Don’t go making it any bigger now,’ the sassy bartender remarked. She turned around for a second then held up a cold Heineken, raising an eyebrow at Ryan.

Ryan removed her finger, smoothing over the tear. ‘You know I like them small, Sadie,’ she said with a wink. Nodding at the Heineken, she walked up to the bar. For someone so petite, she carried herself in such a confident, easy-going manner. Now in her jeans and black hoodie, she had the air of an arrogant adolescent boy…even though she was fast approaching 30. Something in the electricity of her eyes.

At the end of the bar, a tall redheaded woman had been sitting, had been staring hard at Ryan since she entered. Ryan had noticed, but acted as if she hadn’t. Now she had no choice, as the beer was inches from the woman’s own drink. The other women and the bartender were now engaged in another conversation…something about the closing of one of the lesbian clubs in town. As Ryan went to retrieve the bottle, the redhead laid her hand gently over Ryan’s. Underneath the bar, her other hand went to the crotch of Ryan’s jeans…lightly caressing, then questioningly squeezing.

‘You’re not packing tonight, baby?’ she whispered in a sultry tone. ‘Ted’s away on business. And I’ve missed you so much….you were always so good to me….’ 

‘I’m just here to shoot some pool, Laura,’ Ryan said somewhat dismissively. They had a fling about a year ago. Two months into it, she found out Laura was married…found out the hard way. They were in Laura’s bed one late afternoon (why was it always at such odd times?), Ryan driving that strap-on cock deep into Laura’s wet pussy. She thought she heard something, but Laura had her legs locked hard around her, and her moaning…God how her moaning could drive Ryan wild. Laura’s betrothed turned out to be a massive block of a man, with a temper to match. Ryan barely recollects the vulgarities of the scene, but remembers the consequences--losing her job at Canonne (missing too much work from the broken ribs) and the black eye that never quite seemed to fade, not to mention the pleading phone calls from Laura. Seeing Laura in the bar always seemed to bring it back so vividly; it made her ribs hurt again. 

Ryan lifted her hand out from under Laura’s, looking into her eyes briefly. She then looked down, took the beer off the bar and walked toward the pool table. Laura’s hand fell limply away from Ryan as she moved from her. Placing the beer down, Ryan scattered the balls on the table blindly, rolling the cue ball to a random spot to begin some practice shots. She leaned over and slid the cue between her fingers, it rubbing against a fresh burn on the middle finger of her right hand. Wincing, she lined up her first shot. Through her black hair that had lightly fallen over her right eye, as her hair was growing longer on top, she saw the rebuffed Laura leave the bar. Scratch. Straightening up, she took a swig of her beer, the bottle’s condensation soothing the burn.


Butch Ch. 01



In the rear corner of the bar, near the jukebox, voices were being raised. Ryan continued her game, keeping her ears tuned to what was going on. She could see Meg, an alcoholic who had an excuse for everything. She wasn’t exactly yelling, but certainly seemed angry at someone. She had stood up; others were getting involved. Ryan shook her head, lining up another shot. But her eye caught a glance of someone who looked very familiar—that blonde woman…in the dress, the sandals. Oh she doesn’t belong here. But how do I know her?

Meg is telling someone to ‘shut the fuck up’. This could get ugly, as Meg isn’t exactly a small person. With a few drinks, emotions run high as well. Ryan sets down her cue, looking over at Sadie, whose usually-grinning face has turned stone cold.

‘Everything OK over there?’ Sadie asks slowly, a slight threat in her voice. She pauses, holding the bar towel and tumbler she was drying.

Meg looks back at her, smirking. ‘Everything would be great if certain people would just take it easy,’ she says, looking at the blonde woman, then over at a couple at the next table over.

Sadie looks at Ryan, who gives a slight nod. Ryan walks over to the table at which Meg is standing. Ryan smiles softly, patting Meg lightly on the shoulder. She glances briefly at the blonde, who is now staring at Ryan, then over at the couple seated at the adjacent table. 

‘Long time no see, Meg,’ Ryan says sincerely, her tired eyes trying their best to express warmth, understanding. ‘How’s work going?’

Meg, distracted by Ryan’s question, has calmed down a bit. ‘Hey, kid. Good to see you,’ she says, rustling Ryan’s hair. ‘Got laid off about a month ago…’ she takes a drink of her whisky, almost waiting for a sympathetic reaction from Ryan. Not this time. ‘Thinking of going union now…protect myself from shit like this,’ she nods toward the pink slip in her coat pocket. Meg then throws back the rest of her drink, setting the glass on the table, in front of Kate. 

On the table is a portfolio, three highball glasses which had contained Tom Collins at one point, as well as Meg’s new addition of her empty whisky tumbler. Kate looks as bad as she feels. Her eyes are heavy, the voice of that large woman frightens her so much, and she keeps looking to Ryan…thinking, hoping ‘this person will help me’. 

‘Times are hard,’ Ryan begins.

‘You should have just left her alone,’ chimes in the brunette femme at the next table, glaring at Meg. She and her butch lover had gotten involved when Meg was raising her voice. ‘She’s clearly not interested in…your kind,’ she says with a slight sneer.

Meg turns to face the slim brunette, then eyes her butch reproachfully. The lover turns to the femme, lowering her voice.

‘Take it easy, Lea,’ she says. Her voice is higher than expected, given her tall frame, conservative haircut, and dark stony eyes. She is wearing a men’s suit, well-tailored. Monica placed her hand on Lea’s leg, which had the effect of Lea curling up against her, away from the trouble that was anticipated. Monica is not afraid of Meg, but doesn’t want to start a scene that is unwarranted.

Ryan looks to Kate, who looks down and gathers her things when Ryan’s eyes meet hers.

‘Are you alright?’ she asks softly.

Kate looks up drowsily. She sees the fatigue and genuine concern in Ryan’s eyes. For this she is appreciative, but there is something else. Something so striking, so intangible.

‘I…I think I need to go,’ she stammers, knocking over a highball glass as she picks up her portfolio. Sadie, clearly annoyed, looks over. Meg, feeling slighted yet full of false pride, picks up her coat. She gives Kate a clumsy wink, muttering something about ‘prissy bitches’ on her way out the door.

Ryan picks up the cracked glass, placing it gently onto the couple’s table. She looks at Kate. ‘Can I call you a cab or something?’ she offers.

Kate stands, swaying slightly as she tries her footing. ‘I actually…drove here,’ she responds, somewhat amazed by the fact. Holding her keys in her hand, her portfolio under her arm, she looks to Ryan. What now?

‘We can give her a ride,’ Monica offers, Lea jabbing her in the ribs as she says this. She looks at Lea, completing her thought. ‘She can catch a cab and get her car in the morning.’

Kate doesn’t like this idea, and Ryan sees this in her face. 

‘No,’ Ryan argues, ‘the car’ll be towed if she leaves it overnight. Unless she’s parked in the residential…but that’s blocks from here. I could…’

‘Could you drive me?’ Kate interrupts, looking at Ryan. She lowers her eyes after asking.

At this Monica gives Ryan a raise of her eyebrows, a sly smile. Ryan sighs. She just wanted a couple beers, to shoot a few balls…not to play chauffeur for girls on the wrong side of town. Still though, she was curious as to how she knew Kate, if she knew her. She just looked so familiar.

‘Sure, I’ll take you home,’ Ryan offers, holding her hand out to take the keys. Their fingers touched momentarily as the keys were exchanged. They both felt something mysterious in the slight touch, as they looked up at one another. But when their eyes met, they both looked awkwardly away. Kate, clearly drunk, thought for sure she felt herself flush. Ryan cleared her throat, giving the keys a jangle in her hand. Lea, smiling demurely, picked up on this silent exchange.

‘Shall we?’ asked Ryan, nervously touching the back of her own neck. She smiled at the couple, then looked at Kate, allowing her to walk ahead of her.

As Kate walked beside the bar, toward the door, Ryan eyed her over quickly. Beautiful figure…small frame. They were about the same size, though she’s obviously more feminine in her mannerisms. Nice taste in clothes…that dress is probably D&G, shoes maybe Jimmy Choo. She knew them all…many of these femmes were so alike. Ryan could see others checking out the petite blonde as well, then giving her triumphant, almost congratulatory smiles. Ryan’s face remained serious though, as she was annoyed at having to leave early. It was only 12:45. She lays a 20 dollar bill on the bar as she walks by.

‘Take care, Ry,’ Sadie calls to her from behind the bar as Ryan holds the door open for Kate. ‘Don’t be such a stranger.’ Ryan smiles, and closes the door. 

The summer night air is chilly, as Kate is noticeably shivering. Ryan offers her sweatshirt, but Kate politely declines. They are walking beside one another, though Kate is slightly ahead, as she hasn’t told Ryan which car is hers. Kate approaches the Chevy. Ryan stops, smiling broadly.

‘This is your car?’ she asks, unable to match the girl with the ride. She was expecting an Audi, maybe a little Mercedes coupe…

‘Yeah,’ Kate says softly. ‘Something I’ve always wanted.’

‘Very nice. I’ve always wanted a classic myself,’ Ryan says, unlocking Kate’s door and letting her in. She has a skip in her step as she goes around to the driver’s side. Easing onto the comfy bench seat, she slides the key into the ignition. Ryan pauses to take delight in every detail of the car—the slightly cracked speedometer, paint chipping from the steering wheel, wear and tear of the upholstery, the ‘Bel Air’ insignia on the dash. Kate, though quiet, relishes this moment…how Ryan takes such an interest in the car, how much she truly seems to appreciate its antiquity, its defects.

‘Actually…if you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your sweatshirt,’ she says as Ryan turns the ignition. ‘There’s no heater, and the back window is cracked.’

Ryan looks over, almost forgetting where she was. But she obliges immediately, pulling it over her head in one motion. Underneath, she is wearing a white undershirt…good thing she had brought a clean one to change into after work. 

‘Here you go,’ Ryan says, handing over the hoodie. They touch again lightly as Kate accepts it. She feels herself flush again, but this time looks at Ryan to see her reaction. In that cute nervous fashion, she is touching her neck.

‘So,’ Ryan starts, ‘where are we headed?’

Holding the sweatshirt, Kate briefly imagines this as a date situation. It’s a surprisingly pleasant thought to her. ‘I live on Noe, right off Market,’ she replies.

Of course you do, Ryan thinks. Turning her head, she smiles to herself.

Kate slips the hoodie over her head, immediately feeling the warmth of Ryan’s body, smelling the sweet, yet bold scent of what she is sure is men’s cologne (but which one?). She settles into it, giving a little smirk at her dress below…the mismatch of fabric and fashion. She looks over to see Ryan’s hand on the wheel, her arm resting on the ledge of the door. Her arms are smooth, so sleek and defined. She holds the wheel so easily, gently. Yet she is in total control. Her hands…Kate looks carefully at her hands. The nails are quite short, but neatly cut. The skin looks smooth, yet there are a few small scars, and what appear to be burns. Is this woman a mechanic? A handyman? Her overall frame is small. Even as she pushes the pedals, she can see Ryan is thin. Yet her physique seems so strong. That t-shirt barely hides the erect nipples of her small breasts. Does she even wear a…?

‘Are you OK?’ Ryan asks slowly, very aware of Kate’s eyes wandering over her body.

‘Oh…yes. Sorry,’ she clumsily replies. ‘I was just noticing that burn on your hand…it seems like it hurts.’ 

Ryan glances at her, then at her hand briefly. Eyes back on the road, she remarks, ‘Happened today…I always heal quickly though.’ She smiles at Kate, again getting that feeling that she knows her from somewhere. ‘I’m sorry…I don’t even know your name.’

‘Kate,’ she responds. ‘And you’re…Ryan? Is that your…real name?’

‘Yeah,’ Ryan sniggers. ‘My parents wanted a boy.’

In unison, they both say ‘It’s nice to meet you.’ Kate looks out her window, smiling. Ryan smiles also as they stop at a light.

‘So…’ Ryan begins, tapping the wheel with her left hand. ‘Was Meg giving you a hard time in there?’

‘Not really. I just prefer people who are more…She’s just not my…’ Kate struggles, thinking of a good way to put it.

‘Too butch for you?’ Ryan offers, looking at her briefly. This girl really WAS in the wrong bar. She steps gently on the gas as the traffic eases along the road.

‘Yeah, something like that,’ Kate responds almost embarrassed. But was that it? Meg’s whole personality wasn’t appealing to Kate, despite the fact that she wasn’t attracted to her. Though Kate had always dated femme women before; the alternative never really seemed worth exploring. Too many stereotypes, perhaps.

‘Meg’s harmless,’ Ryan continues, ‘She may be a little overexpressive at times, offer too much information, but she’s got a good heart in the end. She’d never hurt anyone.’

‘I guess I just wanted some time alone,’ Kate says, immediately wondering why she said that. That wasn’t why she went to the bar. She had tried going home after leaving Kim’s, but couldn’t sit still. She had driven by Violets in the past, wondering what it was like inside. And tonight her curiosity finally got the better of her…she was definitely open to meeting someone. But not someone like Meg….

‘Sounds like you had a bad night,’ Ryan half-consoles, not wanting to ask too much of the situation.

After a pause, Kate replies, ‘It started out nice. Went to The Nines for dinner…’

‘The Nines!’ Ryan absentmindedly interrupts. That’s it! Ryan thinks to herself, remembering peeking into the dining room and seeing Kate at Ben Sklar’s table. That’s where I know her from!

Kate looks at Ryan, who runs her long fingers through her black hair as she drives on. Why did she just blurt out like that? 

‘Have you been there?’ Kate asks, eyeing Ryan curiously.

‘You sound so surprised that I know the place,’ Ryan says defensively. But then she remembers that she’s wearing jeans and a white undershirt, not to mention that old sweatshirt she lent Kate….it probably costs a tenth of what the dress she’s wearing does.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that…’ Kate apologizes.

‘No, no,’ Ryan laughs, ‘it’s OK. I actually…’ she tries to explain her affiliation, but Kate cuts her off.

‘Isn’t the food there absolutely amazing?’ she starts. ‘I had the grilled salmon tonight…it was fabulous. And these potatoes…’ Kate beams.

Ryan smiles to herself, pleased that she had been part of the crew to make it so.

The car makes a right onto Noe, and Ryan slows a bit, waiting to hear which building is Kate’s. Parking always seems to be a problem around here. 

‘I’m in that one with the blue trim around the windows,’ Kate says, pointing to a three-story building. ‘Oh, take that space right there!’ 

Ryan pulls into the surprisingly vacant spot right outside the building. Kate gets out first. Ryan is about to shut the driver’s door when she notices Kate’s portfolio in the backseat.

‘Do you need that?’ she says, pointing through the window.

‘Oh, yes,’ Kate gasps. ‘Could you grab it for me?’ She feels so foolish that this situation even occurred. What was she thinking going to that bar, letting this stranger drive her car? Yet Ryan has been so kind about it, so generous. She watches Ryan bend into the backseat to retrieve the case. She really does look like a guy from the back, but her features still have a delicate quality to them. Kate turns and goes up the steps as Ryan shuts and locks the car door.

Ryan holds the handle of the portfolio case, carrying it gently up the steps to the building. Kate is now in possession of the keys, trying to find the one to the main door.

‘Do you mind if I come up to call a cab?’ Ryan asks, figuring it’s the least Kate can offer. ‘I don’t have my cell on me tonight.’ Her thin t-shirt does little to shelter her body from the cold air; she wraps her arms casually around herself. She glances at the Tag Heuer on her wrist…1:10. Guess it’ll be an early night tonight. 

‘Of course you can,’ Kate replies, their eyes meeting over her shoulder. What is it that is so remarkable, so drawing about this woman? She opens the main door of her building, holding it open for Ryan to follow. They ascend the two flights of stairs to third floor apartment. On the second flight, a man raises an eyebrow to Kate, nodding a brief hello. Kate returns the greeting in a mumble.

She struggles with her keys at the door, dropping them nervously. Ryan stands behind her patiently, wondering if she’s really going to be calling a cab or if this is leading into something much more interesting. She smiles to herself. 

Upon entering the apartment, Kate moves around frantically--turning on lights, rustling, apologizing for the place being so messy. Ryan steps inside glancing down the hallway, noticing books and papers in piles on a desk, but no real mess. She expected Kate’s décor to be more frilly, but it’s rather minimalist. She turns to go into the kitchen, where Kate is standing by the sink.

‘Everything OK?’ Ryan asks, somewhat confused. She can see a vague reflection of Kate’s face in the window above the sink. That sweatshirt looks almost comical on her body—such a bulky mass over a delicate figure. Kate’s shoulders shake slightly, her head bowing slightly. She nods unconvincingly. 

Ryan sets the portfolio down against the wall, walking over to Kate. She’s never known exactly how to react to someone who is crying, especially a stranger, over a situation entirely unknown. Ryan lifts her hands gently, about to place them on Kate’s shoulders, but thinks twice about it. Kate turns around, eyes teary and red. She smiles into Ryan’s confused countenance, shaking her head.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Kate begins, ‘You were so nice to help me at the bar and drive me home and now I’m so…’ Her quiet sobbing takes over again and she is unable to speak. Ryan is suddenly moved by Kate’s overwhelming emotion, no longer thinking her lecherous thoughts. She brushes a tear off Kate’s cheek, touching her face lightly. 

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asks Ryan softly. Kate holds Ryan’s hand to her cheek, strangely comforted by her touch, the warmth of her skin. Ryan moves her hand to Kate’s shoulder, moving closer to her, hugging her. They are both silently shocked and yet comforted in this gesture. Kate wraps her arms around Ryan, feeling her strong, small frame through that flimsy white t-shirt. She burrows her head slightly into Ryan’s neck, feeling the contrast of her hairline with her smooth neck. She closes her eyes in this emotional haze, the scent of Ryan’s cologne making her feel so safe, so close.

‘I just...don’t understand some people,’ Kate muffles into her neck. 

Ryan squeezes Kate against her, her arms enveloping Kate’s frame over the sweatshirt. ‘Sounds like someone really hurt you’ Ryan whispers. Kate pulls away, wiping her eyes. 

‘I’m so sorry, Ryan. I know you just came up to use the phone. I really didn’t mean to drag you into this,’ Kate smiles, thinking how bizarre this must all seem.

Ryan, surprised at this sudden nonchalance in Kate, smiles back. ‘It’s really alright. If you’d like to talk about it, I can stay for a bit.’ Though she still doesn’t understand what the exact issue is, Ryan thinks back to when she was coming out, how she struggled with her first relationships, with her own feelings.

Kate looks at Ryan, perhaps determining if this is a sincere offer or if she’s merely being polite. Something in those eyes say that everything is right about this. 

‘Can I make you some coffee or tea or something?’ she asks.

‘How about I do it?’ Ryan suggests, realizing the oddity in the request given that this is not her kitchen. Kate hesitates, smiling. But she consents, telling Ryan where all can be found. Tea, kettle, sugar and honey.

‘Something on your stomach would be good too, yeah?’ asks Ryan, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. 

‘What?’ asks Kate.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘A little, yeah. But it’s okay, you don’t have to…’

‘I’d like to, Kate,’ says Ryan, walking to the fridge. Kate sits at the small kitchen table, watching Ryan peer into the fridge. She briefly imagines this domestic situation—living with a woman, having a meal together. Of course it would be different than this right now. Ryan removes a few ingredients: eggs, milk, butter. From the cupboards she produces bread, vanilla, cinnamon, maple syrup. A frying pan from the cabinet near the stove. Fork, spatula from a drawer.

The kettle whistles violently. Kate moves to turn off the stove, but her hand meets Ryan’s, who’s naturally inclined to control every kitchen event as it happens.

‘Sorry,’ they both say, smiling. Ryan looks away nervously, noticing the picture above the kitchen table. It’s an impressionist painting—a male chef in uniform. 

‘Is that a Soutine?’ Ryan asks, nodding toward the picture while mixing the eggs and milk in a shallow dish.

Kate, still standing near the stove, looks at the replica painting, then incredulously at Ryan. ‘You know Soutine?’

‘Well, not personally, but I know The Pastry Cook,’ says Ryan, looking up at Kate briefly. She turns to heat the pan on the stove, then to the cupboard to grab a plate. ‘Does that come as a shock to you?’

‘Oh…no. Well, a little,’ Kate stammers, afraid that she came off as condescending. ‘He’s just not the most well-known; I was just surprised that you recognized the print.’

The pan steams and sizzles as Ryan places the battered bread into it. ‘You seem to be quite involved with art,’ says Ryan, adding tea leaves to two infusers. She places them gingerly into the mugs with water, allowing them to steep. 

Kate notices Ryan’s agility in the kitchen. ‘Actually, I’m paid to know a lot about art. I’m a dealer.’ She watches Ryan’s wrist jerk, flipping the bread in the pan, another sizzle erupting as it comes into contact with the heated metal. ‘That smells wonderful.’

‘Not very gourmet, I’m afraid,’ says Ryan, looking over her shoulder at Kate. ‘But I figured French toast would make you feel a bit better.’




Butch Ch. 01



Kate is silent, smiling. Such a strange night—she thought it would be another evening with Kim, progressing in what she felt was a good relationship. A plate appears before her, a mug of hot tea. Napkins, silverware, syrup on the table.

‘Madame…breakfast is served,’ says Ryan, in a mock French accent. She squints at the clock. ‘At one thirty-seven AM,’ she adds with a laugh.

Kate laughs, then looks intensely at Ryan. Both sitting at the table now, their plates before them, it seems like they’d done this a million times before. ‘Thank you so much, Ryan,’ Kate says. ‘I know it’s been such a strange night, but it’s really good to have you here.’

Ryan blushes, somewhat embarrassed. ‘Powdered sugar?’ she asks, standing up.

‘I don’t think I have any. Please sit, enjoy this with me.’

Between bites Kate compliments Ryan on the food. ‘You moved so fast while you were making this, I noticed. Are you a chef?’

Ryan, amused at the fact that this was the second time she’d cooked for Kate, grinned as she swallowed her sip of tea. ‘Actually…’

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Kate immediately had a look of horror on her face, knowing exactly who it would be. The 6 unheard messages blinking on her answering machine gave a clear indication. The knock resounded a bit louder. She looked at Ryan, excusing herself, pretending to be surprised at someone coming by at such a late hour. She left the kitchen and walked down the hall toward the door. Ryan, somewhat concerned, stood and silently watched from the hallway.

Kate opened the door to an emotional Kim, holding Kate’s forgotten sandals. She immediately began hugging and kissing Kate, apologizing for ‘everything’, begging forgiveness, expressing that Kate was the best thing that ever happened to her and she was afraid to lose her. Kate was stiff and apparently unmoved. Upon viewing this exchange, Ryan stepped into the hallway, preparing to leave.

‘Who’s the dyke?’ Kim said, with an astonished smirk. Though she said it quietly to Kate, Ryan still heard. Upon hearing this, Ryan silently reprimanded herself for getting involved with this girl and her problem.

‘I should go,’ said Ryan, approaching them as she walked toward the door.

‘No, wait. Ryan…’ started Kate.

‘Ryan?!’ said Kim. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

Kate flashed Kim a chilly look of resentment. ‘I don’t think you’re in any position to be judging anyone else here.’ Kim was silenced, though her face showed her disdain.

Ryan excused herself as she walked between the women and into the hallway of the apartment building. She heard Kim’s valley-girl voice snap with another remark, but couldn’t make it out. Kate’s responded in a short, harsh tone into the apartment as she squeezed out into the hallway. 

‘Please,’ she started as Ryan descended the first flight of steps. ‘I know I didn’t explain the situation, but you were so nice to bring me home and all night I’ve….’

Ryan cut her off. ‘You don’t have to explain,’ she said dismissively as she stopped, without looking up at Kate. ‘Hope everything works out,’ she added, continuing her descent.

‘Ryan…’ Kate called softly, not wanting to disturb her neighbors. Her call wasn’t answered.

At the main door of the building, Ryan passed that same man they saw earlier on the stairs. He winked at her, gliding his tongue over his teeth. Ryan glared, rushing past him and down the steps of the building. It was raining lightly, and little miss art dealer had her favorite sweatshirt. Ryan crossed her arms about her body, feeling the cold drizzle seep through her clothing as she walked toward Market, hoping to catch a cab. 

Kate had stood by the banister for a few minutes, looking down at the first flight of steps. She heard the main door open and close, though her heart leaped when she heard footsteps making for the stairs. Was Ryan coming back? She waited until the figure came into view in the dim light, but it was only Vince—that creepy guy that lived down the hall. She turned to go back into her apartment, where Kim was surely preparing for an argument. Kate sighed, walking in slowly and closing the door behind her.

Kim was standing in the kitchen, waiting for Kate. 

‘I really don’t have anything to say to you, Kim,’ Kate said tiredly. She felt a headache coming on. She leaned against the wall, a room’s distance away.

‘No? Looks like I intruded on your little slumber party with that bull dyke. But most people who sleep together actually sleep before having breakfast, you know,’ Kim said, glancing at the kitchen table. 

Kate just stared, not wanting or having to say anything. After a few moments of silence, she said, ‘I don’t have to explain this scene to you. After what you did tonight, to me…you have no right to assume anything.’

‘Look,’ Kim said, nearly shouting, ‘you and I were never exclusive. And it’s not like I haven’t hinted that I wanted to be with you, how I’m always asking you to stay over. Jesus, it’s like you need it all spelled out in lights or something. I have to take care of my needs, and it’s not like I was expecting…’

‘What?!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘Not expecting me to come by? After we made plans tonight? I had told you about my dinner meeting days ago, and we agreed to meet up afterward,’ Kate was fuming. ‘And yes, I did drop by unannounced. But I certainly didn’t imagine I’d see what was really going on!’

‘I left you another message saying…’ Kim started defensively.

Kate suddenly remembers the unheard messages on her voicemail. ‘Saying what, huh?! ‘Kate, on second thought, I have to cancel tonight because I’m going to be FUCKING MY NEIGHBORS.’’ She began sobbing.

A loud pounding on the living room wall startled them both--Mr. Rafalovich’s response to any unwelcome sound. The room was imbued with silence.

‘I just…’ Kim began quietly.

‘Just go,’ Kate said almost inaudibly. ‘Just go.’

Kim looked at Kate, standing against the wall, her bare foot rubbing against her leg, her arms wrapped around herself in that ugly grey sweatshirt. Without another word, Kim took her purse from one of the chairs at the table, walked by Kate and out the door. As the door closed, Kate slid down the wall onto the wood floor. She held herself for a few moments, still smelling Kim’s perfume in the air. Bowing her head, she cried into the sweatshirt, detecting the faint smell of Ryan’s cologne in the soft fabric. 

She looked up, squinting at the kitchen clock. 2:40. Kate stood up, looked around at the dishes and food in the kitchen, and decided to leave it all for the morning.

In the bedroom, she changed into pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. The crumpled sweatshirt lay beneath Kate’s right arm as she slept throughout the night.



Butch Ch. 02



Ryan tipped the cabbie and entered her building in the Mission. She trudged up the steps to her second floor apartment, rubbing her eyes. Goosebumps could still be seen on her arms, damp and chilled from the rain. The Victorian was quiet and Ryan tried to respect the time by unlocking her door without disturbing the silence. She closed the door carefully behind her. In the foyer she removed her shoes.

'Ry, is that you?' called Alison, her roommate from behind a closed door.

'Yeah, it's me. Sorry if I woke you..." Ryan responded softly, setting her keys onto a mounted hand of a mannequin--all fingers but the middle had been curled under. She could hear giggling behind Alison's door. This one sounded like Melisa. Guess they were back together...again. They probably hadn't been exactly sleeping. 'G'night.' More giggling followed by a squeal. Ryan hadn't evoked much of a disturbance after all.

She opened the fridge in the tiny kitchen, and stood staring at her choices. Beer. Mustard. An empty jar of pickles. She pulled out the Brita pitcher--empty, of course--and filled it at the sink. While the water filtered she walked to her room, heels bumping against the hardwood floors. Muffled moaning could be heard from Alison's room. Ryan knowingly smiled to herself.

Her bedroom was a mishmash of oddities--a Craftsman toolbox in the corner next to an overfull bookshelf. Dirty laundry tossed into a wooden crate in another corner. The walls were all painted buttercream yellow, covered with henna-like drawings done by a close "friend." A charcoal portrait that appeared to be a cross between Ryan and James Dean was drawn on the west wall. A second mural drawing--a nude woman, with sultry eyes and barely parted lips gazed at the portrait, her intentions unclear. The bed, all memory foam on a simple wooden platform, sat square and stark as a pat of butter. Ryan knew if she were to lie down she wouldn't get up, so she peeled off her t-shirt, unsnapped her bra and replaced them with a tank top. The jeans and briefs came off next, revealing her lean, muscular legs. A fresh pair of boxers were donned. 

She shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. Moans from Alison's room intensifying, accented with small cries. Ryan bit her lower lip as she stood at the counter pouring herself a glass of water, imagining the scene and aching with longing and jealousy. She became aware of the sound of water dripping, looking down to see the glass overfilling. She sponged off the counter and downed the water. Back in her room, she pulled the chain on the lone lightbulb and crawled into bed.

"Yo, Ry!" Alison called, followed by the sound of her fist softly pounding the door. Ryan awoke slowly, her right elbow bent, forearm across her eyes to block out the sunlight that filtered in through the window. Bamboo blinds aren't perfect. "Yeah?"

The door opened and Alison came in. She was tall with an athletic frame, a mane of blonde hair pulled back in a simple pony tail, her blue eyes keen. She wore her uniform--tight-fitting pants with a matching button-down tucked in, belted. "DI STEFANO" was embroidered on the patch above the breast pocket. Two identical patches bearing "ALLIANCE PARAMEDIC" sat atop her deltoids. She wore a huge smile.

"Hey," Ryan muttered hoarsely. "Sounds like you had a good night." She squinted in the light, smiling up at Alison. Her body lay tangled in the sheets.

Alison smiled, licking her lips. "We were in there all fucking night, fucking." Alison had never been one to be shy about her thoughts. "My ass hurts from pumping into her for over a goddamn hour. When my cock wasn't inside her pussy it was in her mouth." 

Ryan was silent, but didn't mind this banter. She was used to it. Alison grew up with 5 brothers--all either firefighters and/or paramedics, so sex and gore was considered coffee table chat. As a butch, Alison had quite a way with women and had many lovers. Melisa, a petite Puerto Rican dancer, had been a fling of Alison's over several occasions. Neither wanted to commit to anything, yet they ended up together often. Fight and fuck is what the cycle amounted to, and it seemed to work for Alison. Ryan enjoyed hearing of her conquests, in part to confirm the suspicions of her imagination, and also to tap into the sexual workings of a fellow butch.

"So I heard," replied Ryan, who launched into a near-perfect imitation of Melisa's moans and whimpers. Alison smirked, tossing a dirty t-shirt at Ryan. She eyed Ryan's pile of growing dirty laundry with a laugh. "Yeah, that's my day today," said Ryan.

"I'm on for 48, so I won't be home tonight. If anyone comes by..." stated Alison.

"I'll send her over to the station to straddle your face," interrupted Ryan with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck, I wish," began Alison. Just then her cell rang. Alison looked at the number, gave a quick "gotta run" and dashed out. Ryan didn't know what to make of this, as it happened occasionally. She would never be snoopy enough to investigate Alison's phone. It could be work, family or another rendezvous. 

Ryan looked at the pile of laundry and closed her eyes, bringing a pillow over her head. Not exactly how she wanted to spend her day off. She heard Alison grab her keys and the locking of the front door. The sound of steel-toed shoes running down steps marked her departure. Turning onto her side, Ryan licked her lips and closed her eyes, aware of the sound of her door creaking open and the soft pat of bare feet approaching. Soft hands ruffled her bed head, full lips kissed her hair. She felt Melisa's warm body slide beneath the sheets beside her. Her hand crept up Ryan's tank top, fingers delicately caressing her back and shoulders. Without a word, Ryan turned onto her stomach, and Melisa began massaging Ryan's back with both hands--kneading and caressing tight muscles. The tank top was pushed upward and Ryan's movements assisted in it's removal. Where only moments ago only hands were caressing, soft kisses began to follow. Melisa's caresses became more aggressive, now centering along the low back and hips. Ryan's boxers were inching down her legs.

Ryan sighed slowly, stretching her limbs, lifting her legs so the boxers could be flung to the floor. The kneading continued along her calves, back of her thighs, ass. Ryan reached her hand back and stroked Melisa along her breasts, then turned her head to see Melisa's face, intent and desiring. Green eyes looked into brown and an understanding was reached as it had been on several prior occasions. Melisa lay down beside Ryan, the sheets bunched at the bottom of the bed, her nude form slim and caramel as cafe au lait. Melisa's hair splayed around her head like a morning medusa, each strand thick and strong as her resolve. Ryan moved slowly beside her, touching her right thigh to Melisa's left. Ryan kissed beneath her left ear, a finger along her jaw line, nuzzling into her neck. Melisa responded with an audible sigh, eyes closing, her legs parting slightly. A hand along Melisa's breast, fingers stroking and circling the nipple. Ryan kissed her way along Melisa's collarbone, down to her breasts, cradling them softly in her hands. Her body positioned between Melisa's fully parted legs. Ryan could feel how wet she was.

Ryan's lips parted, kissing a nipple, tongue following to tease and entice. Melisa looked down at this boyish woman, her hand moving to the back of Ryan's head, rubbing along where her hair faded into her neck. Ryan emitted a low sigh, kissing Melisa's other nipple more aggressively...a soft kiss followed by sucking and a darting tongue, teeth teasing the sensitive skin. Melisa's eyes locked on Ryan, holding her head with both hands now. Ryan looked up for a silent assessment. Silently, Ryan lay atop Melisa, holding her tightly, the two women rolling over with Melisa on top. Ryan's hands caressed firmly along Melisa's ass, hips, back, shoulders. Her frame was slight but solid. With a swift move, Ryan hands brought Melisa upward, her inner thighs framing Ryan's face. 

Melisa's hair dangled inches above Ryan, the sweet smell of her shampoo blended with the saltiness of her trimmed sex. Ryan kissed her thighs, hands supporting Melisa's ass as she straddled the boi's face. Hands moved upward along Melisa's abdomen and breasts, a finger placed along her lips. As Melisa accepted the finger into her mouth, Ryan nuzzled her nose along Melisa's pussy lips. Melisa sucked the finger like a cock, Ryan quickly adding another to her eager mouth. She could feel the tongue gliding along the underside of her fingers, the pressure of suction in her mouth. Melisa let out a soft moan, one Ryan knew so well, and Ryan's pointed tongue glided along her slit, up and down. Melisa moaned and Ryan placed both hands on her ass, pulling the dancer closer to her mouth. Ryan slid her tongue between wet, parted lips, feeling the soft squeeze of Melisa's thighs around her head. Moaning continued and Ryan thrashed her tongue inside the velvety snatch. Melisa bucked upward and Ryan pressed her nose against her clit. Melisa stayed here, riding Ryan's face to her pleasure, moaning in response to the slippery licks and sucks from the boi's mouth on her cunt. Ryan could feel her climaxing, the grinding on her mouth becoming more rapid, eager. Melisa then backed off as Ryan ducked out from under her, slapping Melisa's ass. Melisa lurked on all fours, breathing heavily as Ryan approached her from behind, guiding Melisa's hands against the wall. Melisa stayed there, on her knees, palms on the wall as she heard a series of straps being manipulated and cinched. Ryan's familiar strong hands were placed on her waist, and Melisa could feel soft kisses along her shoulders and back. With her eyes closed, she could feel Ryan guiding the strap-on cock to her pussy lips. Ryan entered steadily, as Melisa was already so wet, and pinned her body against Melisa. Her hands over Melisa's on the wall, she began to thrust inside her. Ryan closed her eyes, as she could almost feel Melisa's cunt squeezing on her cock. Ryan thrust upward, plunging in deep. Melisa cried out as Ryan grabbed her waist and brought her down to her knees on the bed. Melisa buried her face into a pillow as Ryan held her waist and pumped hard and fast into her, using her like a fuck doll. Ryan pushed in hard, bucking into her snatch, feeling her own clit throb with excitement as the harness pushed against her cunt. Ryan reached around and pressed against Melisa's low abdomen, to which the girl emitted a low moan. Ryan worked her fingers against Melisa's hard clit, flicking and circling it as she continued to pump steadily into her. In a flash, Melisa's moans became muffled cries into the pillow and Ryan could imagine her pussy spasming on her cock, but her fingers felt the pulsation of Melisa's clit as she erupted into orgasm.

Melisa's moans faded into heavy breathing as she turned her head from the pillow. Ryan held the cock inside her, kissing Melisa's back tenderly, still yearning for release herself. Their eyes met again, and Melisa licked her lips. Ryan pulled out slowly and eased her back onto the bed. She lay back with her head propped up on two pillows as Melisa crawled over to the erect strapon between Ryan's legs. Expertly, she took the head into her mouth, making a show of spiraling it with her tongue. Ryan watched in silent amazement, her desire mounting. Melisa smacked her lips on it, taking inches into her mouth and sucking. Ryan's right hand moved beneath the harness and began touching her own clit, which was hard as fuck. She rubbed as Melisa's mouth bobbed and sucked the length of the dildo. Melisa could tell by Ryan's breathing as she was getting closer, and started adding muffled moans and whimpers to her blowjob. Ryan parted her lips, breathing hard now and thrust the cock into Melisa's mouth. Barely audible grunts could be heard from the boi, her brow furrowed as if in pain. As her rhythms increased, Ryan grunted hard as she came. Melisa knew not to move the strapon and try to touch Ryan, but kissed her abdomen as Ryan recovered. 

The two women lay back on the bed, Melisa curled up against Ryan's supine frame. The strapon lay on the floor beside the bed. Ryan had her eyes closed, savoring the scent of Melisa's shampoo or perfume, whatever it was. Melisa kept her arm around Ryan's waist, amazed at the lean physique of this woman. Ryan awoke to the sound of the shower running and a decent rendition of Ella Fitzgerald's "Boy Wanted." She looked at the clock--it was noon--got up and stretched. She went into the bathroom and saw Melisa's opaque frame in the shower. Just then Ryan's cell rang. 

"Hey. It's slow here. Did M leave yet?" Alison asked. 

"I think she's getting ready to go now," Ryan replied. "Sounds like she's in the shower. I'm waiting." 

"I'll talk to her about that. She shouldn't stick around so long and hang you up. Anyway, I left an envelope by the door for Eric. He'll be coming by to pick it up later."

Alison's loser brother Eric was always asking his sister for help with his "rent." This only made Ryan feel worse. Melisa wasn't loyal to Alison, and Eric couldn't tell her the truth. What kind of a friend was she? Ryan pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "No hang up for me," Ryan replied, watching Melisa dry off. "I don't really have much planned today. I'll be out later, so I'll leave the envelope under the mat." She knew this would piss Alison off, but she wasn't going to stick around for the asshole to show up. "And Melisa's fine...no worries."

"Cool. Later." Alison signed off.

Ryan snapped her phone shut and looked at Melisa, doing her makeup in front of the bathroom mirror with a pair of Ryan's boxers on. "We should probably stop doing this," Ryan said. Melisa looked up at Ryan, pausing in her makup application. She laughed and glared at Ryan with mascara and eyeliner that gave her eyes a devilish glint. "Whatever you say, Papi," she replied with a mocking smile and wink.



Butch Ch. 03



Ryan woke at 9 am to the chill of a thick foggy Saturday morning. She had forgotten to close the window last night and the room had a slightly condensed, damp smell to it. She lie on her back, pulling up the blanket and gazing at the nick she sustained on her left index finger last night at work. Sharp knives, dull pain. She had to quickly mow down more parsley as garnish because not enough had been done during prep. The new kid on garde manger wasn't working out.

Alison hadn't been around for the past couple of days. This would be the third night of her shift at the station. Though Ryan had enjoyed having the place to herself, she became lonely at times. Constant banter wasn't necessary, but knowing another is near is reassuring. She and Alison understood one another, perhaps a little too well sometimes. But that's what made the roommate situation work. Unless you were rich, you couldn't make it any other way in San Francisco. Even in the Mission.

The fridge was stocked, as it usually was when Ryan did the shopping and Alison and her femme du jour weren't around to devour it all. As she gazed at the treasure trove of cheeses, eggs, meats and fresh veggies, Ryan grabbed a leftover pain au chocolat and scooped a generous helping of coffee beans into the burr grinder. As the beans became shards, she gazed at the calendar and smiled. The small highlighted entry for the day read "pInc 9-?" This was just what she needed.

The event was similar in theme to white parties that catered to the LGBT crowd, only pInc catered to an all lesbian crowd. Though a few known bisexuals were inevitably thrown into the mix. At the helm of this event was a Twin Peaks socialite, a trust fund baby who personally invited her attendees to partake in pure hedonistic delights. She opened her doors (and for some, her legs) twice a year for this organized ovarian orgy. Unlike white parties, attendees were required to wear black. Each event had a theme that was revealed upon entry, and each room of the 5000 square foot estate appeared to be redecorated. Funding was rumored to come from political and private sectors. All guests were anonymous, or at least encouraged to be, as each was given a domino mask upon entry.

Ryan had attended one previous pInc event about a year ago. She received her invitation during the latter end of a busy Friday shift. The embossed, heavy envelope bore the words "You Are Cordially Invited" in cursive by a well-trained hand. It was handed to her by a busboy who didn't reveal details of the sender. Ryan went on a whim, not knowing what the night would hold for her. She remembers flashes of the night still: the dim lighting, the mediterranean decor, nude masked women in all positions and contortions receiving and giving pleasure to one another. It was a feast for the senses, disbarring any thirst of emotion. It was not for the sentimental. It was the singular most devouring, exciting, barbaric sexual experience of her life.

* * * Kate walked briskly down Greenwich toward the health club where she anticipated catching her sister during her morning swim. After a brief semi-flirtatious banter with the queen who manned the front desk, she headed toward the locker room toward the entrance to the pool.

Of the six lanes, only three were occupied and Kate could identify Natalie easily. Her smooth, purposeful stride had been characteristic of her crawl stroke even at its inception during their adolescence. Kate took to running, but Natalie remained the water baby. Kate sat on a bench and looked out at the window at a woman tending to her fussy baby in a stroller. She remembered when Natalie's son Chance was that small. All the cooing and smiles. She also remembered Natalie's depression, and how it worsened after Chance was born.

"Hey, I thought that was you." Kate looked up to see Natalie toweling off and removing her swim cap. She looked great--toned, muscular arms and legs and a gentle glow of a tan. Even her eyes seemed to sparkle like they used to when they were kids. 

"Nat, so good to see you." Kate stood and hugged her sister. She could feel Natalie hugging back--a good sign. The two had once been close, but these past few years had strained their relationship. Kate's "fluid sexuality," as Natalie phrased it, was disappointing to the entire family. And Natalie's depression had distanced them further.

Natalie pulled back some. "I thought we were meeting at the cafe. Did you think I'd forget? Because I'm fine, you know." Natalie held eye contact with Kate, and a confident smile crossed her lips. Kate was expecting anger and some sort of verbal assault for coming, but was pleasantly surprised. Kate began walking beside Natalie toward the locker room. 

"No, Nat. Well, maybe. I just want to know you're OK," Kate said honestly. She stood back while Natalie opened her locker and pulled out her bag. A bottle of pills fell out onto the floor. Natalie looked up, and raised her eyebrows with a soft smile. 

"I'm still taking them." Natalie picked up and lightly shook the bottle of lithium before tossing them back into her bag. "But exercise helps with the blues, and I'm trying to stay consistent. Be back in a couple minutes. Watch my stuff." Natalie winked and mussed Kate's hair. She grabbed her shampoo and conditioner and walked toward the shower. 

Kate sat down on the bench and her heart felt at ease. She was so worried about what to say, how to approach Natalie if she sensed something was off. This was such a welcome relief. 

"Hey stranger" said a curious voice. Kate turned to see a half nude brunette with a long bob dressing in the mirror. Their eyes met and Kate blushed, feeling a warm wetness in her panties. She last saw Erica in her studio during that last big rainstorm when the power went out. It had only been their second "date," but the forces of nature progressed it much further. Candles were lit and placed all over the studio. Erica's hair had been shorter and darker in that light. Art led to conversation led to wine led to dancing led to making out on the floor pillows. Kate remembered the look in Erica's light eyes as her tongue first touched Kate's wet pussy. The sounds, scents and tastes of their slow, writhing 69 still gripped her.

"Hey...Erica. How...how are you?" Kate recovered, smiling warmly. She was increasingly turned on, thinking of that memory. The nudity in the present moment surely was assisting. Erica turned away slightly and began rubbing lotion on her arms, chest and breasts.

"I'm doing well. You look great. I didn't know you worked out here?" She eyed Kate slowly, and Kate felt the desire build in her. She was aware and surprised by how sexually aggressive she felt in the moment and could feel everything dilate in response to it. She set Natalie's bag in her locker and closed the door.

"Yes, it has been a while." Kate eyed Erica, trying not to focus too obviously on her cleavage. She licked her lips. "I don't work out here...I'm meeting my sister. But hey, I have some ideas on your upcoming exhibit."

Erica smiled, laughing softly. "Yeah, we should get together. I'd love to hear them." She fastened her bra over her beautiful breasts, and slid a fitted t-shirt over her head and arms. 

Natalie suddenly appeared, wrapped in a towel. She smiled at Erica, gave a curious glance to Kate and began rummaging through her locker. "Seen my lotion, sis? I thought I packed it..." Kate looked inside the duffle.

"Try this," Erica handed a slim black lotion bottle to Natalie. "It works wonders." As Natalie thanked her, Erica grabbed her gym bag, touched Kate subtly on the shoulder and whispered "I have something for you, so call me." She whisked by them.

Kate looked after Erica, her groin still surging with desire. "Good friend?" Natalie asked with a smirk.

"Client," Kate answered, trying to sound disinterested. She changed topics quickly. "You still want to go to that place on Fillmore?" 

Natalie slipped into a sundress and sandals, her natural beauty expressed in even the simplest of ensembles. "I've been dying for their eggs florentine for weeks now." A beeping began to emanate from the duffle bag. Natalie's hand emerged with her cell phone. "It's Kyle," she said with a slight frown as she walked to the mirror ruffling her damp hair. Kate could hear Nat's husband's voice and the sound of an unhappy toddler in the background.

"Uh huh, ok," Natalie was saying into the phone while applying lip gloss in the mirror over the sink. She snapped the phone shut and rubbed her lips together. She looked in the mirror at Kate. "Chance is sick and Kyle needs to get back to the hospital."

"Oh. I hope he's alright. Maybe you should go home? We can meet up tomorrow, if you want," Kate offered. They walked through the locker room and into the club lobby.

Natalie stopped beside Kate outside the main entrance, touching her cheeks softly with both hands. She put on her sunglasses. "Kate, I'm sorry. He's had this bug for a few days now and can't seem to kick it." She hugged her sister. "We'll get together soon, I promise." Natalie slid her hand down to touch Kate's, giving a light squeeze. "I love you, OK?" Kate looked at her and for the first time felt reassured that Natalie's life was indeed turning up. "Give my nephew a big kiss for me," Kate requested with a soft smile.

It was only 10am, as Kate checked her watch. She walked across the street to grab a cup of coffee. Before she reached the door, Erica appeared and blocked the door. "I make coffee better than this, and my place is just around the corner."

* * *

The open space loft had a modern flair to it--concrete walls adjacent to swiss coffee colored brick, exposed pipes and beams. The two women were kissing passionately before getting out of the elevator. Erica struggled with her keys more than she struggled pulling off Kate's t-shirt. Bras were strewn carelessly on the travertine floor in the entry and the girls tongues meshed while fingers clasped and legs wobbled unevenly toward the couch. Kate fell effortlessly onto the couch as Erica kneeled on the faux fur rug, deftly peeling the yoga pants along her legs and tossing them aside. Kate felt her pussy burn with desire, the wetness along her inner thighs. She was in a state of absolute passion and surrender. Words did not formulate, only moans and gasps.

Erica's tongue glided along Kate's neck as she whispered,"You would have fucked me in that locker room." Kate moaned in response, caressing Erica's supple breasts. Erica licked hungrily at Kate's nipples before darting a rapid beeline along her midline and tickling her trimmed pussy. "You're so wet," Erica managed to get out as she licked along Kate's inner thighs. Kate's fingers were in Erica's wet hair, the sweetness of the shampoo mingling with sex in the air. Kate could feel Erica parting her pussy lips, the tip of her tongue gliding up and down her slit. Seconds later Erica's mouth was sucking eagerly at those lips as Kate bucked against her face. 

Kate could feel Erica's nose against her clit and she leaned back and closed her eyes. Her bare feet were on the edge of the coffee table. Erica's right arm drew back and opened one of the apothecary drawers of the coffee table, her hand retrieving a suede satchel. Erica slipped her tongue inside Kate, her lips locked tightly on Kate's open cunt. The satchel was opened, and Erica held the length of the glass dildo between her own legs. As she tonguefucked Kate, she moaned slightly from the combined sensation of the dildo's cool touch and its hardness against her erect clit. Erica slid it along her slit, feeling its coolness subside. Kate's moans had reached a steady plateau, her fingers still in Erica's hair. They seemed to be begging for more.

Erica raised the glass dildo as she slid the tip of her tongue to the top of Kate's slit. She pressed the head of the dildo to Kate's lips, as if asking permission. Kate's legs parted further and Erica slid the glass cock inside. She held the base as it glided evenly into Kate's wet snatch. What were once moans had become cries and pleadings. The clear glass cock was speckled with flecks of sea glass glinting red, orange, green and blue light in the midmorning filtered sun. An even glaze of moisture gave the cock an almost glowing quality. Kate opened her eyes as it entered her, and watched Erica fuck her cunt gently at first, the thrusts growing harder and faster in intensity as the body language between the women alternately begged and consented. 

Erica moaned, leaning down and licking the cock shaft as it emerged from Kate's cunt with each thrust. She licked at it from every angle, lapping at the juices and the light. She the pushed it deeper, slowly probing as Kate cried out. Erica held the cock still, deeply seated within Kate, and licked at Kate's clit, hard and exposed, peeking out from under its hood. She encircled it with her tongue, flicked it playfully, and sucked it as she resumed the cock thrusts.

Louder, looser moans were coming from Kate's mouth, as Erica fucked her harder while sucking her clit. Kate's two hands were on Erica's head now, the sucking had become so intense. Erica had enough experience to know the distance to keep between her mouth and the cock to prevent chipped teeth. Kate's hips began to move, Erica's suckling sounds evolved into lip smacks and tongue thrusts as she struggled to maintain contact with that hard clit. Kate emitted a loud gutteral moan as her cunt erupted into orgasm. Erica held the cock in place and pressed her tongue hard against Kate's clit, the throbbing continuing hard and steady.

Kate's moans subsided and Erica slid the cock out slowly, its length covered in a haze of cum. Erica licked at it, slowly like a popsicle. Kate, breathless and spent, pulled Erica up and kissed her frantically. Tongues and teeth clashed as they grasped at each other, as if they couldn't get close enough. Kate's fatigue waned and she again felt that sudden hungry need she had experienced at the gym.

She pushed against Erica, the only discernible word spoken being "bedroom." The two made their unsteady way to the platform bed, liplocked and clumsy. At the foot of the bed, Kate turned Erica away from her, and pushed her face down onto the mattress. She grabbed the scarf that lay decoratively along the wooden angular headboard. She quickly gathered Erica's wrists into a snug restraint, tying her to the wooden frame. Erica emitted a questioning sound of resistance, though the eager, gutteral "fuck me" that followed quelled any doubt of her desires. 

"Right drawer." 

Kate snatched the harness and silicone cock, securing it surprisingly fast around her hips and thighs. Gripped by her suddenly assumed masculinity, Kate looked at her image in the floor length mirror in the corner of the room. Not a natural look, but definitely hot. She tilted Erica's hips upward, slapping her inner thighs as an overt request to spread further. Erica complied. Kate held Erica's hips, moving her hands inward and downward along her lower abdomen and shaved crotch. She could feel the hot moisture, and her fingertips slid easily along Erica's slit. Kate crouched down, her mouth kissing Erica's ass cheeks, tongue dotting her skin all the way to her taint. She licked playfully at that tender strip of flesh, hearing Erica groan and mutter something incoherent. Kate thrust her tongue forward, meeting the wet folds of Erica's pussy lips. Kate turned her body, now lying supine beneath Erica, her hands guiding Erica's ass downward as she sat on Kate's face.

Kate moved her mouth all over Erica's smooth pussy, the softness was almost stunning. She toyed with Erica's clit briefly, hearing a sharp cry of pleasure. She pushed her tongue inside, as she sucked softly on Erica's pussy lips. Erica's held her weight off Kate's face, though she was beginning to push more into her mouth. Kate continued fucking her with her tongue, thrusting upward and thrashing sideways. She could feel Erica pulling at the restraints as she struggled to balance her weight and the pleasure of being tongue fucked. 

Kate slowly slid out from under Erica, leaving her crying for more. She kneeled behind the restrained woman, touching the length of the cock to her ass crack. Kate leaned in, her breasts against Erica's back. She whispered something into her ear and Erica replied, "Oh God yes, give it to me." 

Though a novice at strapon use, Kate knew how to proceed. She guided the head of the cock to Erica's cunt, using her fingers to wet the head. She pushed inward, as Erica cried out when the head entered. Kate held it there steadily for reassurance to continue.

"Fuck me, baby. Make me your pussy whore."

She did. Pushing in steadily, slowly, with long controlled thrusts. Holding Erica's hips for leverage, she looked at herself again in the mirror. Muffled moans were coming from the pillow beneath Erica's head as Kate bucked the cock inside her. She began to push faster now and Erica raised her head, crying out "harder!" Kate held fast and pushed and pushed and pushed. She licked two fingers, and felt for Erica's clit, which was hard and swollen. She rubbed and pressed it gently as Erica cried out for more. 

Kate pulled at the scarf, freeing Erica from her confines. Erica collapsed onto her elbows on the pillow, raising her hips and allowing a better angle for clitoral contact. "Harder, baby, don't stop," she kept repeating.

Kate could feel the sweat on her back from the thrusting, the lazily spinning ceiling fan doing little to dispel the heat in the room. She pushed fast and steady, occasionally grinding against Erica, thighs against her ass. She could feel her own wetness on her thighs again, she was so turned on in using this strapon. Erica put her hands under her, her moans growing more gutteral. Kate took this as a cue to slow, and continued fucking her with long deep thrusts. Erica came hard, reaching back to hold Kate still and stop the thrusting. Somehow words failed. 

Erica slumped into the memory foam and comforter, and Kate lay against her, unsure of when to pull the cock out. She pulled back gently, but Erica made sounds of resistance, so Kate stayed still. After several minutes Erica slid out from under Kate. She looked over her shoulder at Kate. 

"Was that your first time using a strapon?"

Kate blushed, though it didn't appear on her flushed cheeks. "Yeah, was it OK?"

"OK? Holy fuck, if I didn't know you I'd think you were total domme. All you need to do is slow down at the end. I'm not wonder woman, you know." She smiled, turned and gave Kate a quick kiss on the lips.

Kate struggled to get out of the harness, amazed at her ability to put it on in the heat of the moment. Erica lie beside her, motionless. Kate was invigorated, not the least bit tired now. She soon realized that Erica had fallen asleep.

Kate got up slowly, as not to wake her. She was weak and sore from fucking and should rest, but just couldn't. It was as if some switched had clicked on. 

"...envelope on the table..." Erica muttered.

After a quick clean up and gathering her clothes from various pieces of furniture around the loft, Kate dressed in the entry. On the metal console table lay an envelope with Kate's name on it. She looked at Erica, who was still sleeping. Opening it, another envelope was contained over which a scripted "You Are Cordially Invited" was written in rich red ink.



Butch Ch. 04



The fog let up around 1pm, and the Castro was buzzing with local gay boys and tourists. A slim, androgynous delivery worker was wending her way through the crowd on the sidewalk, pushing a dolly piled with sacks of flour and boxes of canned goods. She zigzagged her way toward a pizza-by-the-slice place. Men and women alike moved out of her way, some gawking at her puzzling appearance, some interested in the puzzle she presented. She was immune to it all, her eyes shielded from gazes unkind and lascivious by the Ray Bans she wore, the Iron Maiden in her ear buds providing her own soundtrack to the afternoon. It wasn't such a bad gig.

She ducked down an alley and pulled the dolly up the short flight of steps into the back of a pizza place. She could hear the usual salsa or mariachi on the radio, as she pulled an ear bud out. A chubby El Salvadoran man came out of the walk-in, behind him a thin cloud of smoke. His eyes were brown beans suspended in red spider webs. 

"Whassup, Ese?" he said, nodding his head and narrowing his eyes.

She looked at him, and a smirk cracked her face. She shook her head. "Abelino, you spend more time in that walk-in than you do on the pizza boards." They bumped knuckles.

He smiled guiltily. "Es pizza. Take time to cook, you know? What else I'm gonna do?" He tilted his head to the side, spreading his arms out as if really questioning this. He was handed the order sheet, and smoothly traded a slim baggie to her beneath the paper. Her smile widened and she pocketed the bag. She chuckled and started unloading the flour sacks in the dry storage. 

Abelino ducked around the corner, drumming his fingertips along the wall. "Delivery es here," he said with a smirk and taunting falsetto. The pig-tailed brunette ringing up an order looked at him. She rushed through the transaction, and glanced into the back. "Cover the front for me, yeah?" she asked him. Abelino pointed to the clock on the wall. "Two minute, Sara." He looking blankly at a midwestern couple asking about the special. As Sara walked into the back she could hear him say "We have pizza."

Sara leaned against the wall, watching Alex: the rolled up shirt sleeves with tribal tattoos covering her arms. The lean, muscled biceps as she transferred the sacks. The slight feminine outline of legs beneath the Dickies workpants when she'd stand up from bending. The perfectly faded hairline, and finger-combed strands of chestnut hair as she dusted off flour from her pants. Sara approached from behind. "Hey, Alex."

Alex felt Sara's hand on her back, then slinking around her waist. She instinctually recoiled a little, then turned to face Sara. "Oh, hey," she said, smiling, pulling out the other ear bud. 

"I've been waiting for you," Sara whispered, attempting to unbuckle Alex's belt. "I can't stop thinking about the other night, and I'd like to continue where we left off." Alex laughed, placing her hands on Sara's to stop her. "Yeah, we had a great time, but I've got a lot of stops to..." Sara's hand fell to Alex's crotch outside her pants, squeezing and kneading what she felt. "Oh God, you're packing. I'm so wet for you," she whispered hotly. Alex felt her own arousal increasing, and the scent of Sara's perfume (the memories it bore) was only heightening this excitement. Sara kept kneading Alex's crotch, as Alex wriggled free from her grasp. Just then Abelino came around the corner. "You go back," he said to Sara, pointing his thumb at the front. "I don't know what the fuck they want." He looked between Sara, who was scowling, and Alex, who was clearing her throat and hanging her clipboard on the dolly. He walked by them to the boards, winking at Alex on his way. 

"I'm off at 6, and could use a ride...home. You know, if you're in the area," Sara said in a matter-of-fact tone. She looked at Alex then walked back up front. Alex's eyes slid along Sara's red pigtails, her tight shirt, short goth skirt, black and white thigh highs and green boots. Abelino appeared in Alex's peripheral vision, holding two fists on either side of his pelvis and thrusting his hips into the air. "You gonna give it to her, Ese? Ohhhh, yeah" Abelino teased, panting and grunting. Alex guffawed, rubbing her chin with her thumb and forefinger. She wasn't sure if Abelino knew she was biologically female, or if he was just cool with all colors of the rainbow. She found it funny in either case. "See ya next week," Alex called, rolling the dolly down the back steps to the sounds of Abelino's increasing pseudo-orgasms.

Alex loaded the dolly into the back of the truck and got into the driver's seat. She could have fucked Sara right there if Abelino hadn't come back. As she drove to her next stop, Alex remembered the other night perfectly--they had a couple drinks at Rocky's, a bar known for its male clientele, though some nights a few members of the opposite and inter sex could be seen. After the drinks, Alex went to the restroom. As she opened the door to walk back out to the bar, Sara pushed her back into the restroom and locked the door behind them. She could still feel Sara's legs wrapped around her neck, shoulders and waist as they fucked against the small vanity table, the sink, the wall....

Alex parked in the green zone, flashers on, and loaded up the items for her stop onto the dolly. She rolled it to the back door of the restaurant and tried the knob. Locked. She checked the address on her clipboard with the faded paint on the door to The Nines. It matched. She gave three solid pounds with her fist, as she could hear the music blaring from the back within. 

Ryan sat in the office of the executive chef, going over some discrepancies in the food costing and revenues from the previous night. She technically had the night off, but came in when she heard Mike had a medical issue and would be coming in late. As she crunched numbers into the battered solar calculator on the desk, she became aware of a vague, repeated pounding on the back door. She called out into the kitchen for someone to open the door. The fucking music was probably too loud. Ryan tossed her pencil onto the table and headed to the back door. She passed the kitchen and pounded three times on a stainless steel table, jostling the prep cooks.

"Hear that?!," she said, pounding her fists and pointing toward the back door. The guys looked confused, but resumed working, finishing the prep for the night ahead. Ryan opened the door in the midst of another three loud knocks. Alex stood back, an arm leaning against the dolly. Ryan apologized briefly, saying something about the door usually being unlocked for smoke breaks. "No worries," replied Alex, pulling the dolly up the steps and rolling it along the concrete floor. Ryan used a key to unlock the door and followed Alex to dry storage. "Need help?" Ryan asked, half wanting to get back to work. "Nah, I got it," responded Alex, unloading the dolly and not looking up at Ryan. "There's more in the truck; I'll get it into the walk-in." Ryan nodded her thanks and headed back to the office.

Alex came into the office about 5 minutes later with the carbon of the order. She glanced at it before handing it to Ryan. "So, you must be 'Mike'?" Alex asked, looking at the order and then to Ryan with a smirk. Ryan finished writing down a few figures, glancing confused up at Alex, then at the order. "No, Ryan," she replied with a distracted took. They exchanged a brief glance of familiarity or knowingness. The phone rang and Ryan reached to get it. "See you next..." Ryan turned and started to say, but Alex had left. 

The day's deliveries were complete. Alex sat atop Twin Peaks at 5:15, smoking a joint and watching the sun dip below the horizon. She squinted at the fading light, took a hit, and became aware of a vague calmness taking over. It was one of those rare moments of peace, when you feel free as a child and the world isn't such a scary place. The chill in the air, the colors in the sky, and the freedom that this city afforded were suddenly taken to heart. A car alarm in the distance brought her back to reality. She stubbed out the roach, got into the delivery truck and headed back to the plant in South Frisco to get her pickup.

"Giant Steps" by Coltrane was crackling from the old pickup truck radio when Sara rapped on the window, startling a thought-absorbed Alex. She smiled as Sara jumped into the passenger side. Alex worked the clutch into gear. "I've got a roommate, but she's never there," Sara said, putting her boots up on the dash and lighting a cigarette. Alex smiled, "Best kind of roommate to have," and took a right on Market. 

Sara's building was a dilapidated 3-story walkup in the Tenderloin. Inside the rusty iron front door, the landlady stood smoking in the hallway. She saw Sara and uttered something about her rent being late. She also eyed Alex with a smile, saying something about a handsome young man. Sara said she'd have the rent money by Monday, took Alex's hand, and they walked up to the second floor. 

The one bedroom apartment was dark and cluttered. Sara tossed her bag onto the table by the futon, which also served as her bed. She walked over to the bedroom door and knocked. No response. "Nobody's home," she said with a smile, walking toward the bathroom. "Fuck, I smell like pizza. I'll be right out." Alex sat on the futon, the sheets disheveled, though they smelled of Sara's vanilla-based perfume. She heard Sara call from the bathroom that beer was in the fridge. Alex sat looking at the lone desk by the window, papers scattered about. A smattering of drawings lay in a sketchbook by the bed alongside an ashtray, an iPod, and a vibrator. Alex smiled, picking up her messenger bag from the floor and unbuckling her belt.

Sara emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel, her pigtails transformed into a damp shag. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and came back into the living room to find Alex sitting up in her bed, her lower half under the sheets. Sara walked toward her, allowing the towel to fall from her body as she took a long sip from the bottle. The little window over the kitchen sink was open, and it allowed a cool, bluish light to streak areas of the apartment. 

Sara sat beside Alex on the bed. Alex took the bottle from her, took a sip and set it on the floor. She took Sara's chin and cheek gently in her hand and they began kissing. Sara's hands fell along Alex's hairline, along her t-shirt, where she gently tried tugging it upward. Alex stopped her by holding her hands, and kissing her more forcefully. Alex guided Sara's hands lower, over the sheets, but over the hard cock she had strapped on. Sara moaned into Alex's mouth and slipped to the floor beside the futon, tugging on the sheets to reveal the 8" dildo between Alex's bare legs. In the dim light Alex could hear Sara smile as she licked, kissed and sucked the cock from base to tip. Sara's warm hands caressed Alex's thighs as the girl took the cock into her mouth and bobbed her head gently on it. Alex felt her entire being flood with energy as she caressed Sara's hair, hearing the soft sucking sound of her lips on her cock. Sara's muffled moans and deepening pressure of her hands along Alex's thighs and hips made Alex's clit harden and pulse with excitement. In one fluid motion, Alex pulled Sara up onto the bed, whispering, "I need to taste you."

Alex lie back on the bed as Sara straddled her face. Alex cupped Sara's ass firmly with her hands, kissing her inner thighs and bare vulva. Sara was caressing her own breasts as she felt the length of Alex's tongue on her wet slit, gliding slowly back and forth. Alex pulled her forward slightly, slipping her tongue between Sara's pussy lips and thrusting it smoothly inside her. Sara arched her back as Alex went deeper, pressing her nose to Sara's clit, which had hardened. Alex fucked her harder using her tongue, then sucked on her pussy lips. Sara cried out, grinding her cunt on Alex's face. Alex opened her mouth, stiffening her tongue, allowing Sara to use her tongue to ride herself to orgasm. Alex's right hand had gone under the sheets to stroke her cock, grinding it hard against her clit so they could climax together. Sara's writhing and moaning intensified as she took Alex's left hand to her mouth and sucked her finger.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Sara moaned, as Alex sucked her clit, edging herself closer to orgasm, but not allowing it, to sustain this level of energy. Alex pressed her mouth and tongue hard against Sara's clit, feeling it throb as wave after wave of pleasure went through Sara's body. 

Sara relaxed her body, slipping under the covers to lie beside Alex. She was breathing heavily, her body cool against Alex's warmer body that was warmed by the sheets and comforter. Alex held Sara to her, kissing her softly along her face, neck, her breasts. Alex moved her body to lie beside Sara, allowing her right hand to roam along Sara's navel, her thighs. She touched gently between her legs and Sara moaned, parting her thighs. Alex continued to kiss Sara, her middle finger along Sara's slit, feeling it wet with saliva, cum and new arousal. Sara's hand teased along Alex's t-shirt, down to her cock. Sara pulled it, begging Alex to fuck her. 

Alex settled her body weight between Sara's legs, kissing between her breasts. Sara draped her hands along Alex's shoulder blades, whispering "fuck me." Alex moved upward, her lips inches from Sara's. With her right hand, Alex guided the head of her cock to Sara's wet pussy. She held it there a moment, their lips separated by a centimeter, each others breaths becoming more urgent. Sara grabbed Alex's ass, briefly gripping the leather harness, to pull the cock inside herself. Alex thrusted smoothly forward as Sara groaned, pressing her breasts into Alex's chest as the cock entered her. The movement became a steady give and take of slow thrusts. Alex's lips grazed Sara's neck, her lips whispering into Sara's left hear. Sara's eyes were closed, her moans varying in intensity with the movement and Alex's whispering. At one moment the movement stopped, Sara's moans softened. Alex slowly pulled out from Sara, turning her body gently face down. Alex's hands caresses Sara's lower back, guiding her hips upward. She guided her cock to Sara's pussy again, entering her from behind. Sara's head was halfway on a pillow. She turned her head to make brief eye contact between strands of her damp bangs "Fuck me," she said, resolutely. Alex thrusted slower, but harder into Sara's cunt, gauging her pleasure with each moan. The thrusts quickened and the forcefulness increased. Sara was emitting a cry filled with pleasure, but hinted with pain. Alex slowed her efforts, but Sara cried out for more. Alex hammered into her, holding Sara's hips steady as she pumped her own. 

Alex could almost feel the cock as part of her. In a well-practiced maneuvering, she could feel the base of the cock rub her own clit at the perfect angle. Her thrusts into Sara became an equally selfish effort of getting off. Sara seemed to be approaching climax, her breath quickening when she uttered something to Alex, then repeated it in a louder, more eager tone. 

She pushed Alex onto the bed, in a sitting position. Sara, smiling devilishly, kneeled on the bed, sucking Alex's cock in long, fast bobbing motions of her head. Alex moaned in pleasure, her fingers gently gripping Sara's hair as she watched the redhead suck her own juices off the cock. Sara moved her hand to Alex's inner thigh, her fingers moving beneath the harness. Alex stiffened, grabbing Sara and pulling her onto her cock. Sara was surprised to feel it enter her, but she pussy squeezed on it as she rode it up and down.

Voices, keys could be heard in the entry. Alex, looking over Sara's shoulder, saw who must be the roommate and another woman looking mortified. Sara kept riding, looking back over her shoulder briefly. A brief "Sorry!" was barely audible. Alex held Sara to her, spreading her legs slightly to get the pressure on her clit. She held Sara's hips down, thrusting up into her, grinding hard as she allowed herself to climax. Footsteps were heard, the front door opened again. Alex could hear,"I thought your roommate was gay." A slightly higher female voice replied,"So did I."

Alex moved upward, holding Sara's back and flipping her down on the futon. Alex pushed and thrust with all her being as Sara's legs wrapped around her. The loud moaning of one, harsh groaning of the other became more urgent until both erupted in gutteral groans of orgasm. Alex held the cock inside Sara, almost feeling the simultaneous contractions of their pleasure through this temporary extension.

"Mmmmm," moaned Sara, unwrapping her legs from Alex. "That was soooo good." She lie back as Alex pulled her cock slowly from Sara. Alex lie back and Sara cuddled up to her side. She got up briefly to open the drawer in the table beside the futon. She extracted a joint and lit it, taking a slow drag, the cherry a dim point of light in the room, which had darkened. Alex sat up, kissing Sara's shoulder lightly. She could feel Sara bring the joint to her lips, and she took a drag. Alex released it slowly, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. She began to unfasten the harness and get dressed in the dark. Sara lie back against the pillow, holding the joint between thumb and forefinger. "You don't waste any time, do you?" she said, half laughing. 

Alex stood, zipping up her pants. "I'm not much of a cuddler, sorry." 

"Fuck you," Sara replied in a breathy chuckle. "When will I see you again?"

"Maybe I'll come by your other work sometime," Alex whispered as she kissed Sara's head. Sara could hear the gritty start of the pickup a couple minutes later. 

Alex tossed her messenger bag on the floor near the passenger seat. The envelope caught her eye. She picked it up, pondering the "You Are Cordially Invited" red cursive script. The envelope had been sitting in her truck for the past week, but she couldn't remember how she got it. She extracted the invitation, noting today's date. An orange 8:45pm displayed on the truck's cracked digital clock. Alex drove toward home. A hot shower was in order before the night's second excursion.



Butch Ch. 05



The salmon croquettes were all seated on their individual beds of lettuce, a Warhol-esque display of edible repetition. Ryan had lost count, and was starting over, ensuring accuracy before they went out into the dining area. She nodded to the servers, "Take it." 

Ryan surveyed the domestic kitchen--it surpassed any restaurant kitchen she'd ever worked in. Stainless steel countertops, stained concrete flooring, Viking ranges, only the best knives gleaming and sharpened on magnetic strips. Marble and granite counters. The catering crew worked diligently, a well-choreographed ballet of savory and sweet. Ryan walked around, noting the professionalism. Her job was easy with this team...they all respected the craft and had appreciation for the work. No criticisms, no corrections. 

A muffled speech could barely be heard in the kitchen for the event in the main section of the house. Dignitaries and politicians sat with activists and businessmen. Ryan jokingly referred to her employer as Madame Tolstoy, a heavyset Russian woman who held these gatherings periodically in her home. Her name wasn't Tolstoy, but something much longer and syllabically challenging. Always the same type of deal....high society food for a mixed crowd. Ryan kept to the kitchen--it wasn't her business to hear the conversations or the speeches. 

At the end of the night, Ryan had dismissed most of the crew. She and a promising younger cook stayed to load the remaining equipment back into the van. She went back into the kitchen alone to check that everything was clean, nothing left behind. Madame Tolstoy entered as Ryan was inspecting the grates of the ranges. 

"Bravo, my dear, " she said in her thick accent, smiling almost slyly. Ryan turned around, smiling in response. "I hope everyone enjoyed the food."

"Oh the food. The food is delicious!" she said, kissing her thumb and forefinger. "Very consistent with you...I like this very much," she struggled a bit with her English but her appreciation translated well. She handed Ryan an envelope with several crisp bills. 

"Thank you," Ryan replied, taking the envelope. "It's always a pleasure to work here. Your kitchen is amazing." She started to walk toward the door, politely indicating her departure. 

Madame Tolstoy approached, touching Ryan's hand gently. "You come at night tomorrow..."

Ryan looked a bit puzzled, inwardly panicking that she thought she had tomorrow night off. "Tomorrow? Did we..."

Madame T interrupted, smiling and shaking her head, "No food, but party. You come, I want you here." She handed Ryan a pre-printed envelope with her name printed in cursive. Ryan took the envelope politely. They bid their farewells, and Ryan got into the van.

"So what did you think, Drew? Not a bad night, huh?" she said, closing the driver's side door. 

He gave her the thumbs up, eyes sleepy or maybe stoned. "That kitchen was insane. I wish we had half of that stuff at The Nines," he replied. "I didn't even have to use my knives."

"That's money," she replied, nodding toward the house. "I bet she's never even touched an appliance in there." They drove along the winding Twin Peaks streets, headed toward the heart of the city. 

"This one," Drew said, pointing to the dilapidated walk-up in the Tenderloin. Ryan handed him a crisp $100 bill, and he palmed it. "Thanks for giving me this chance with the catering gig," he said, leaning against the frame of the passenger door. Ryan nodded. "No problem, Drew. Good work tonight. See you next shift." He closed the van door, carrying his knife case through the iron door to his building. 

Ryan pulled the van behind the restaurant, sighing and looking at the clock. 2:13am. She grabbed her wallet and keys from the console, her eye catching her scripted name on the envelope Madame T had given her. She opened it, scanning the somewhat elusive details of the second envelope within: You are Cordially Invited...

******************************************************************

The alarm buzzed at 6am sharp, and Kate lay supine and diagonal across the bed, comforter strewn around her legs, pillow across her forehead. She hit the off button with her left hand, not looking. The faint smell of coffee mingled with the fresh morning air from her cracked window. She yawned, stretched and shuffled to the kitchen in her panties and cami. 

Kate took out her favorite mug, the one her sister had given her, filled it with coffee and sipped meditatively. The thick lip of the mug was somehow comforting, almost engaging her in a kiss with each hot sip. She opened the pantry and took out her protein powder, grabbed an apple from the fridge, and looked at her planner on the countertop. Two meetings, an interview with a potential artist to exhibit. She strained her eyes to read what was written smaller in pencil: pInc - 9pm. Kate jogged her memory, flipping to the back of her planner and retrieving the envelope. She read over the invitation to the party at the Twin Peaks address. Her mind pondered the phrases...by invitation only, anonymous indulgence, respectful discretion, innermost desires. She unconsciously ran her tongue along the lip of the mug, her intrigue and imagination overtaking her. 

"Shit!" she snapped as coffee dripped onto her feet. She set the mug down on the counter, grabbing a damp paper towel to wipe the coffee from the floor. She glanced at the clock, gasping at the time. Kate downed her protein drink, bit into the apple and ran into the bathroom to start her shower. 

**********************************************************

Alex sat at the bar, sipping a beer, eyes intermittently glancing between the blonde playing pool and a pamphlet on the bar. The blonde was bending over in her tight, low-cut shirt, breasts almost spilling out as she took too much time lining up a simple shot. Alex licked her lips, bringing the bottle to her mouth. The blonde smiled at her. Alex noticed a guy behind the blonde, making thrusting motions with his hips as she took the shot. She swiveled on her stool, not wanting to get into the drama. She turned over her left wrist, glancing at her watch. 10:35pm. Fuck it. She grabbed her keys and laid a $5 bill on the bar. 

Outside, the air was cool, smelling of asian food, cigarettes and trash. Alex donned her jacket and got into her truck. She picked up the invitation, reading the address. Home was closer, but this could be interesting. And it was still early. 

Her truck groaned driving up the incline into the community. She passed some condos, looking for the number. The houses began to get bigger, gates more ubiquitous, cars more luxurious. She doubled back, parking near the condos and walked toward the home.  

It was a mansion...a modern, angular residence with many windows. A faint glow of reddish-purple could be seen from a window on the far right of the home. The gate was open. Alex moved to knock at the front door, and was greeted by a buxom petite woman with steely green eyes. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I think.." Alex began, checking the address on the invite, thinking she came to the wrong house. The woman saw the invitation and asked her inside. The black curtains made the foyer look smaller than it was. "Follow me," said the woman. Alex couldn't help but watch her ass as she followed her down a long hallway. They stepped into a large room, with white curtains hanging to create individual changing stalls.

"Please change in here," the woman said, pulling a curtain aside. "Leave your clothing, belongings and invitation. They will be stored for you and returned after the event." Her face was matter-of-fact, a polite but rigid smile, as if this were part of a museum tour. 

Alex stepped inside tentatively, looking around. "What do I change into?"

The woman indicated a black silk robe and domino mask hanging from a solitary hook on the wall. "I assume you read the invitation." 

Alex glanced from the mask to the woman, not quite understanding what she was getting into. Before she could reply, the curtain closed and she was alone in the stall, invitation in hand. 

She emerged a few minutes later, glancing at her clothing hanging on the hook, ensuring her keys were in her pocket. She was glad she left her phone in the truck. A naked woman was standing in the dim light, paint adorning the skin around her eyes in dramatic flares and waves. "Follow me, please, " she said, taking Alex's hand. Alex adjusted her robe with her other hand, noticing a stripe of purple fabric on the lapel. They walked barefoot down a hallway with soft maple floors. The light became colored and dimmer, and the sound of moaning could be heard in the curtained rooms along the hallway. They stopped before a curtain with a purple trim at the bottom hem. The woman opened the curtain, leading Alex into a library. Candelabra's "Here are your things," she said, indicating a display of sex toys: harness, several cocks of different sizes and widths, beads, lubrication. Alex began to say something when she noticed the tangle of women on the leather-studded couch: one spread on the length of the couch, one perched on the back of the chaise, the other kneeling. A mesh of moans, lapping of tongues and whispered demands filled the air. 

The woman removed Alex's robe. Alex could feel her heartbeat becoming more rapid, her eyes dilating. She stepped into the harness, eyeing her prey. 

************************************

Kate's heels clicked along the winding concrete pathway up to the door. It had taken her a few minutes to even get out of the car, contemplating what she was even doing here. Before she reached the front door, it opened and she was received by a sexy, petite woman. Kate immediately recognized the dress. Prada. Good taste. The woman smiled to her warmly, her green eyes flashing in the dim lighting of the foyer. "Come in, please," she said, taking Kate's hand, admiring her shoes. Kate thanked her, slipping her keys into her purse as the door closed behind them. 

The woman showed Kate into the curtained stall, closing it behind them. "I know this is your first time here...it can be a little intimidating. But trust that you'll have a good time, OK?"

Kate smiled a bit uncertainly, but something in the woman's face intrigued her. Those green eyes reminded her of something, or someone. She was aware of fingertips deftly unzipping her dress, then soft lips on her neck as her dress slid along her body to the floor. Kate moaned as this mystery woman seduced her into the black robe, applying the domino mask as her tongue entered Kate's mouth. She was aware of a cold sugary taste on her tongue, not entirely unpleasant, but unexpected. Kate's clothing and purse sat crumpled on the floor, forgotten as the woman walked hand-in-hand down the hallway.

They passed several curtained-off rooms, with the sounds of moaning. On the other side of one curtain, the activities sounded much more rough, primal. A woman was grunting loudly, something bumping rhythmically with each grunt. "Harder! Oh, yes. Fuck me!" she screamed. 

The woman giggled, squeezing Kate's hand. They walked into a room with a discreet red lining to the curtain it concealed. Kate again saw hanging curtains in a similar fashion as the changing stalls. Only these contained what looked like small beds. The woman guided her to one, and they sat side by side on the bed. Soft, memory foam comforted their bodies as the woman moved to kiss Kate, untying her robe and letting it fall to the floor. Their tongues mingled as they caressed and petted one another, lying on the bed. Kate felt herself being pinned down, as the woman smiled lasciviously above her. Every touch felt electric, and somehow very soft. The air seemed to take on a charged feeling, and she was aware of sounds of moaning nearby. Kate moaned loudly as she felt a warm, wet sensation on her nipples, looking down to see the woman licking and sucking hungrily. Kate arched her back, barely noticing her arms bound to the wood frame of the bed. She could feel the woman's body between her spread thighs, her kisses and tongue moving downward. Fingertips pinched and pulled at her nipples, which felt ticklish and erotic all at once. Soft lapping at her inner thighs, her slit, then a rush of warm wetness inside her. Looking down, her thighs framed the woman's face as she tonguefucked Kate. Her breath quickened, eyes closed, she felt her head being turned to the side by a gentle hand. She was aware of an object being placed on her lips, looking to see a strapped cock and its masked wearer telling her to suck it. Kate looked up into the anonymous face, opening her mouth wide to receive it as the wearer began to pump it slowly.

Her whole body felt charged as moaned, the strapped cock in her mouth, the tongue in her pussy. Change happened fluidly, as the woman slid up Kate's body and straddled her face, rubbing her pussy all over Kate's mouth, lips and chin. Kate could feel her legs being handled, raised, and then a push of something hard inside her. She groaned as her lips smothered the woman's shaved pussy. They seemed to work in syncopated rhythms--as one woman grinded on Kate's face, the other thrust steadily into her from the foot of the bed. Kate succumbed to this process, letting go and being active all at once. She could feel the woman's clit on her upper lip, as she sought it out and sucked it at brief intervals that inspired lustful groans. Kate pulled at her bound hands, useless tools in her surrender to lust. 

*********************

Ryan locked the deadbolt, suddenly aware of warm hands covering her eyes. 

"Guess who?" whispered an accented voice. 

Ryan smiled, recognizing Melisa's voice, her perfume. Melisa kissed her with sultry full lips. 

"I think Al's at the station tonight," Ryan said. Melisa responded with a devilish smile. "I came to see you, Papi."

Ryan felt that familiar blend of lust and guilt swirl up inside her. She had the mind to open the door and fuck the life from both of them on the living room floor. She felt Melisa's hand on her crotch. "You're packing, Papi. Let's use that here, don't go out." Melissa curled her hand under Ryan's jaw, lips kissing her cheek. 

Ryan sighed, wanting what was offered, but using her intelligence, conscience not to fall for the bait. She had said she'd stop this, and here was here chance to do so. "I have to go to work," she lied, pulling away and trying to walk past Melisa. 

Melisa narrowed her eyes at Ryan, standing in her path. "Oh, es like this now?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Look," Ryan began. "You know we can't keep this up. Alison's my best..."

"La mujer perdona las infidelidades, pero no las olvida, Papi," interrupted Melisa.

Ryan shook her head, not understanding the words, but getting the meaning loud and clear. "I'm sorry, " she said, sliding against the wall of the corridor, past Melisa and down the steps.

Outside, she jumped on her prized Triumph, strapped her helmet on and sped into the night. She knew every side street to get where she needed to go to fulfill this desire. 

Ryan noticed the cars lining Madame T's street. Parties were common here every day of the week, so this was nothing new. But she didn't feel right parking near the back entrance for this, as surely this wasn't a catering gig. 

She walked calmly up the pathway, the door opening for her. She was greeted by a petite asian woman. Ryan smiled, knowing what this was, that it could be this easy. Without a word the asian woman took her hand and they walked down the hallway. 

Ryan took off her clothing resolutely, the woman waiting outside. She kept the harness on beneath her robe. Ryan smirked at the silliness of the mask, but these were not her rules. She put it on and opened the curtain. 

The asian woman was nude now, smiling at Ryan and gesturing with her hands to the hallway. Ryan walked beside her, not knowing where to go. She felt a sense of surrender to the moment, being ready for almost anything. She needed this night of anonymity and release. The glow of candlelight was ubiquitous, even beneath the curtains that cordoned off the rooms. Moans, whimpers, grunts, pleadings and demands could be heard in various intonations, all indicating surrender to lust. 

The woman led Ryan through a series of rooms. Ryan visually noted the bodies rhythmically moving in so many positions, contortions to achieve sexual pleasure. But she also took in the design of the rooms, trying to architecturally piece together a map of the house in her mind. Any semblance of furniture had to have been removed and stored someplace, for all that were present were basic surfaces on which to fuck and be fucked. Curtains facilitated some sense of modesty, but they were really unnecessary.

The asian woman spoke for the first time. "Politicians, celebrities, businesswomen, teachers, artists, and those of many trades are all here tonight." 

Ryan raised her eyebrows, impressed with the anonymous power of everyone present. She watched two women hungrily 69 on a tabletop, imagining their real lives, wondering if they'd ever intersect to fulfill such a need as this occasion allowed. 

She was led into an alcove, where they seemed to be alone together. The asian woman looked at Ryan with a sort of kind courtesy, leaving her in the room. There was a singular high-backed chair, and side table on which something lay wrapped in a dark cloth. Ryan opened the cloth, and looked at the silicone cock. She attached it to her harness, hearing the door open softly. Ryan turned and saw a blonde woman approaching cautiously. Their eyes met briefly, the blonde's turning down after contact. Ryan turned to her, the erect cock jutting out from her small, muscled frame. Without words, the blonde kneeled and took the cock into her mouth, sucking just the head initially. The moving her mouth along the shaft. Ryan watched her objectively, feeling the animalistic lust begin to form inside her. Ryan's nipples were hard with arousal, and she pinched at them as the blonde sucked her cock. Ryan licked her lips, watching the blonde's breasts sway gently as she bobbed her head. She was aware of the pressure on the base of the cock, stimulating her clit. Ryan responded by thrusting gently into her mouth, stimulating her clit more. She placed her hand gently on her head, fingers locking into her hair as her sucking became more ardent, wet-sounding. Ryan felt herself begin to climax, and pushed the blonde back, almost knocking her over.

"I'm sorry," Ryan began, but the blonde got up, walking into the adjoining room, motioning Ryan to follow her. And she did. Ryan walked in to the massive library, books on shelves as high as the ceiling. She was entranced with the sheer volume of literature, before her senses adjusted. The scent of sex was heavy in the room. Leather studded couches lined an inner rectangle, and tangled bodies were heaving on all but one of them. The blonde moved over to the empty couch, looking at Ryan through her domino mask. Ryan moved to her instinctively, bending her over the couch and slapping her thighs to spread them wider. The blonde whimpered in need as Ryan rubbed her fingers along her pussy lips, feeling her mouth salivate at how soft and wet she was. Ryan knelt behind her, running her tongue along her slit, sucking at her pussy lips. The blonde moaned, grinding her face gently on Ryan's mouth. Hungry for sex, Ryan thrust her tongue into her cunt, gliding it back and forth, a finger poised to her rosebud. She could feel the blonde clenching her pussy on her tongue, Ryan's face glazed with her excitement. Ryan licked back to her taint, pressing the tip of her tongue against it. She moved upward still, pressing it to her rosebud and rimming her slowly. Ryan heard muffled moans in response to her actions, pushing her tongue into her ass, and feeling that familiar sensation of excitement between her own legs. 




Butch Ch. 05



Ryan pushed her back over the couch, standing to guide the cockhead to her pussy lips. The blonde held herself up with arms extended on the couch as Ryan popped the head inside. She tilted her hips downward and pushed the cock in slowly, watching her lover arch her back in receptivity. Ryan held her hips, driving the cock in rhythmically, watching it glide in and out of her pussy. She was aware of the woman's breathing pattern, and instinctively knew when she could take it further. Ryan grabbed her shoulders and pumped harder, faster. The woman cried out, and Ryan kept driving it in. She pushed her weight against her lover, grinding her hips, harness grinding her own clit. Ryan edged herself off her own orgasm, pushing the woman off her cock and onto her back. Ryan grabbed at her legs, bringing them up and over her shoulders as she kneeled on the couch and entered her again. Ryan held her legs to her breasts, body leaning forward to drive the cock in again. The woman breathed harder, faster, her moaning punctuated by Ryan's stiff jabs of her cock. Ryan looked down, concentrating on the rhythm and feeling her climax build again, when she heard a muffled moan. She looked up again to see another strapped woman pumping her cock into the blonde's mouth. Their gazes met, and Ryan shuddered with a feeling she had never experienced. It was a comradeship of sorts, both working the same target. But there was something else. Ryan was stimulated by the sight of this woman, who had features similar to herself. Just a taller version. The woman relished the control she had, issuing commands such as "suck my cock," interspersed with tender caresses and playful slaps and pinches. Ryan concentrated her gaze on this butch's actions, her commands, pumping relentlessly into her femme lover. Ryan felt herself climaxing again, watching the butch's hands teasing the blonde's pink nipples, her cock practically gagging her. Ryan groaned, feeling herself cum hard against the harness. She looked up, aware of the butch's gaze, and a wry smile crossed Alex's lips. Ryan kept pumping into her lover as the butch turned and knelt, lowering her head to lick at the blonde's clit while Ryan thrust into her. Ryan was transfixed with her every move and action, pulling back her hood to expose the blonde's clit, lapping and sucking. The blonde emitted loud, rising moans in response to her clit being sucked. She came loud and hard, holding the butch's head to her pussy, Ryan holding the cock still inside her. As Ryan waited, she felt the butch's hand on her own thigh, grabbing it tightly to provide leverage for her to stand up. 

Another two femme women slithered in, kissing the blonde, licking at her nipples and cuddling her. Ryan pulled back, body simultaneously tense from fucking, and surprised from cumming. She backed into the room with the leather chair and sat down. The butch appeared in the doorway. "Not bad, huh? We double teamed her pretty well."

Ryan nodded weakly, feeling small behind her mask, somehow intimidated by the energy of this presence so similar to herself.

The butch looked behind her, at the others in the library, then entered the alcove. She and Ryan regarded one another, and the butch approached. "She didn't even clean you up." Ryan saw her kneel down in front of the chair, and something in her gave way. She watched the butch's lips go down on her strapped cock and she groaned aloud. Ryan was aware of her eyes watching her, the butch's fingertips teasing and tugging at Ryan's nipples. Ryan grabbed her hair with one hand, hearing her moan in response, bobbing on her cock. She felt the butch's hand press on the base of her cock, rubbing it knowingly against Ryan's clit. Ryan sat up to protest, but surrendered to her climax as she jolted from her orgasm. The butch pulled her mouth off Ryan's cock, wiping it with the back of her hand. 

"Aquarius?" the butch asked, pointing to the tattoo on Ryan's forearm. She got up slowly and leaned toward Ryan, whispering, "Next time I'll expect more." And she walked back into the library.

Ryan delayed her reaction of looking at the tattoo on her forearm. She sat motionless for some time. 

******************************

Kate sat on a lone stool in the stall, feeling immensely tired and spent. Her head was spinning and she felt immensely thirsty. She regarded in her mind all the things she had experienced that night....being used so thoroughly in every orifice, and using others in the same fashion. And now? Emptiness. She stepped out of her curtained stall into the dim light, aware of her dress needing to be zipped. She heard someone coming out of the stall beside her, keeping her eyes low.

"Can you zip me up?" Kate asked. She felt steady, sure fingers on her zipper, a firm hand on her waist. She looked instinctively and felt a wave of excitement. "It's you..I have your, your...."

Alex looked at Kate questioningly, feeling tired from the night's activities. "I don't think we know each other." 

Kate blushed, immediately recognizing her error. "I'm sorry...I thought you were someone else." 

**************************

Ryan didn't go home immediately, but rode up to Point Reyes to take in the sunrise. She pondered the events of the night during the ride, the cold air keeping her alert and on edge. Melisa, the anonymity of the night's event, the fact that it was Madame T's house, that butch, the way she moved, how she sucked Ryan off...

She thought of life: work, her friends, random hook-ups, the niche she had carved for herself in this city. Love never seemed to work out. Not that she ever really tried, of course. She sat in the sand, and watched the light begin to enter the sky. She yawned and stretched, her bare feet in the sand. She glanced at her watch, and thought of her options for coffee in town. Another day presented itself. She walked toward her bike, with alternating thoughts of resignation and hope.



Butch Ch. 06



Ryan sat in a chair on the deck outside the Point Reyes coffee bar, looking at the colors of the new day. Her hair was still wet from the makeshift shower she had taken at a gas station on the ride north. Inside, the owner was speaking a bit too harshly to a new kid, who was on his second try of making a cappuccino for a waiting customer. Ryan glanced over her shoulder at his furrowed brow, smiling to herself, remembering those days of not getting it right. We all learn through repetition, she thought to herself. She took one more sip from her mug, looking at the dregs of the ground espresso at the bottom. She thought of her mother, who insisted coffee grounds at the bottom of cup was an indicator of poor service. Ryan closed her eyes, thinking it had been a while since she had seen her. She took out her phone and dialed slowly, half hoping there wouldn't be an answer. 

__________________________________

Alex took a hit from her cigarette and admired the view from the bedroom window. People bitch about the rich, but some of these places are nice. You get what you work for...or what you inherit in some cases. Her eyes roamed over the crown moldings, Victorian artwork, maple floors, custom furniture. She looked at the sleeping body beneath the sheets beside her, a few brunette locks splayed about the pillow and comforter. She had a vague recollection of the night before: a smorgasbord of carnal acts in Twin Peaks, walking to her truck and being asked for a light by a woman in a Rolls, and ending up here in the Presidio. 

She dropped her cigarette into an empty wine bottle by the bed, and reached over slowly, removing the sheets from the mystery woman's shoulders. Alex placed her hands on her shoulders, firmly but softly. She touched deeply, closing her eyes, rubbing softly until she heard a soft moan. Her fingers trailed down the woman's back, and she arched in response. Alex smiled, smelling the sweetness of perfume tinged with sex. She kissed along the woman's shoulders, rolling her over onto her back. Her breasts, almost too firm, yielded hard nipples, which she kissed and sucked. Her thighs parted as Alex kissed along the woman's stomach, stifling a laugh when spying a black widow tattoo on her mons. She licked the stubble of an oft-groomed strip of hair, nestling her tongue along and inside parted legs, wet lips. The woman kept her eyes closed, grinding her pelvis slowly as Alex took what she wanted. 

A cell phone rang, and the woman cursed briefly in a slight English accent. Her climax building, she told Alex not to stop. Alex lapped and sucked at her clit and lips feverishly, two fingers twisting and turning inside the woman's wet pussy. Her breath quickened, the grasp on Alex's hair intensified, and she orgasmed while sitting up quickly to pinch one of Alex's nipples. Alex yelped with surprise and pain, the woman clutching her hand to stay inside her as she rode out the wave of pleasure, giggling at her stunt and collapsing onto the bed. 

Alex looked down at her own chest. "That's an original way to say good morning," she said to herself. The woman was listening to the cell phone message and now dialing. 

"Yes, Peter....I've had some...family matters this morning. I won't be in until 11 or so. Oh, yes, things are just fine. It's my...niece. She's dropped by unexpectedly. Alright, thank you." She was very British, and a good liar.

Alex looked back at the woman, giving a wry smile. She returned Alex's gaze without expression, grabbing the harness and cock, pushing it toward Alex and getting to her hands and knees.

She looked over her shoulder at Alex, who was holding the accoutrements. In a thick British accent she snapped, "Well don't just sit there. Give Auntie one more good shagging so we can get on with our lives."

________________________________________________________

Ryan wended the Triumph along the sidewinding roads of Inverness to the A-frame cabin where her mother and step father lived. The house looked the same: sunbleached, the deck's finish peeling off, the old rod iron patio furniture that nobody used. She approached the door, which opened before she made it up the steps. 

Barbara looked smaller, her eyes drooping more in the corners. There was always a sense of disappointment in coming home, though it was never spoken. 

She made an effortful smile, opening the door wider as Ryan approached. "It's good to see you, Ryan." She in turn hugged her mother, a noticeable stiffness in the two small frames. 

As usual, Barbara busied herself making tea. Ryan sat in the living room, taking in the familiar smells of floral candles and cat litter. "How is Carl doing?" Ryan stood to look at the pictures on the mantle. 

"He's keeping busy as best he can," her mom replied, adding details about his auto parts business and his latest procurement to his classic car collection.

Ryan's eyes gazed over the pictures: her mother's friends, her mother and Carl on their yearly vacation in Hawaii, and many pictures of Ryan from infancy until late elementary school. Nothing thereafter. 

A cup of tea was handed to her gingerly on her left. "Carl and I stayed at the Hyatt on Maui this year," her mother stated. "It was beautiful! We didn't even have to leave the hotel grounds, as they had everything you could ever dream of right there!"

Ryan took the tea, sipping and focusing on the taste, the heat of the tea to prevent her emotions from coming to the surface. She smiled at her mother, and listened patiently to the features of the Hawaiian hotel and the business seminar they attended. 

They talked of weather, the marriage and/or new babies of a few of Ryan's cousins, and briefly of Ryan's work.

"Do you make the desserts?" her mother asked. Barbara continued to have the notion that every female who worked in a kitchen was either a pastry chef, or a part-time TV network star ala Martha Stewart or Rachael Ray. Ryan kept it simple, explaining her role as sous chef at The Nines, and her catering side jobs. 

"I need to get going, Mom," Ryan said after the conversation had been exhausted.

Her mom put on her reading glasses, and picked up a newspaper. She handed Ryan a coupon for a clothing store, adding that they were having a sale on some very fashionable skirts and blouses. Ryan took the coupon silently, and placed it into her pocket. She had long ago learned not to contest these offers.

The two women hugged briefly, and Ryan let herself out. She immediately felt like she could breathe easier outside, as the weight of life seemed to lighten. It was a difficult way to grow up for them both: Ryan knew who she was, and when that became obvious, her mother did her best to shut it out. To each other, they'd become two veneers of themselves interacting for brief intervals in time. 

Ryan's legs ached as she climbed the steps to the apartment, her body sore from the night before. As she let herself in, she was revisited by familiar sounds of moaning coming from Alison's bedroom, a rhythmic thumping and intermittent grunts and sighs. Ryan smiled to herself, closing the front door softly. Al must have the day off. Ryan removed her shoes, walking quietly and quickly along the hallway. It didn't sound like Melisa in there, she thought to herself.

Ryan undressed and stood under the shower head a moment just letting the water drip down her body. She could feel her skin becoming hot and red, but the pain and slight burning felt good. Wanting to leave before anyone emerged from Alison's room, Ryan dressed quickly in black pants and a white tee. She'd get ahead of the catering orders for the holiday weekend. The moaning intensified as she grabbed her jacket and locked the door. 

____________________________________________________________

Receipts were scattered in organized piles about the stockroom. Ryan alternated her attention among recipe cards, scratching down figures on a notepad, and punching buttons on her calculator. The Cubano music from the kitchen was in full swing, with one of the more vocal prep cooks loudly adding his own refrains. She was faintly aware of a knocking on the back door, which escalated to pounding when it wasn't answered. She sighed and got up carefully as not to knock over her work. 

Alex jumped back as the door swung open, pulling the dolly back out of the way. "Easy tiger," she said to Ryan, who stood aside to let her by. Alex looked down at Ryan's arm, noting the Aquarius tattoo.

"You can leave it here...the stockroom's a mess," Ryan said, indicating a corner in the back. She walked back to the stockroom, tiptoeing around the receipts and sitting inside the one bare spot on the floor. Alex stood still, watching Ryan walk by. She unloaded the handtruck and rapped gently on the open stockroom door, showing Ryan the page that she needed for signature of the delivery. 

"Sorry, let me grab a pen," Ryan said. Alex watched her cross the room, leaning over the table with well-toned forearms to sign the order. 

"Can you spare a piece of paper?" she asked Ryan. Ryan gestured her hand at the receipts scattered around the room. "Take your pick," she responded with a smile as she looked up at Alex. Something was familiar in those eyes and Ryan averted her gaze, returning to her post.

Alex tore off a piece of paper from a blank order slip, jotting something down. "That's for you, Aquarius," she said, placing the paper on the table. 

Ryan looked up, but Alex had gone. She rose silently, walking to the desk and picking up the paper. An address in the Sunset, nothing more. Ryan walked to the back door, opening it and peering out into an empty alley. 

____________________________________________________

Alex gazed at the sunset from her usual perch in Twin Peaks, taking slow easy drags on her cigarette. The radio in her truck was broken again, and the dial wouldn't move from the Chinese station it seemed to cling to these days. The silence forced her to confront her thoughts. What were the chances that she'd run into the same woman she had "anonymously" been fucking the night before? And at work, besides! Alex wasn't an overtly spiritual person, but when the universe throws something in your face like this, it must be worth paying attention. And she responded to it, as she'd learned to do over the years. She put herself out there. But what would come in return?

Her cell phone rang, removing her from the world of hypotheticals. She glanced at the number, her mind registering the green-eyed blonde she'd been with a few nights ago. "To voicemail you go," she said as she silenced the phone. Something heavy weighed on her, and for once sex wasn't the distraction she sought. She put out her cigarette, her truck coughing to a start, and glided down the hills toward home.

She walked through the door, balancing the pad thai and glass noodles in her hands. She removed her shoes in the foyer, not wanting to soil the off-white carpet. Sergei, her Russian blue cat, bid her a lazy greeting as he followed Alex into the kitchen. She saw a faint paw print on the white countertop and immediately wiped it clean, then set the food down and began to eat over the sink. She glanced past the dining room table, which sat simply and immaculately set, as if in preparation for some future party, or perhaps a showing of a model home. The morning haze had returned to the backyard, and the trees weakly filtered the last light of the day. She walked carefully with her fork and styrofoam container to the slider, gazing through the glass. Her cell phone rang again, and she silenced it without looking at the display. Walking outside, she ate in silence, leaning against a post on the patio. She let the darkness surround her as she finished her dinner, the cat slinking between her calves. She felt something inside, some sort of impending energy that she couldn't interpret. She would usually turn on some music, go out into the city, watch a movie. This time she would let it evolve. Alex placed her fork in the dishwasher, leftovers in the fridge, and went into the master suite for a shower. She would stay in tonight.

_________________________________________________________

Ryan's head spun with numbers and dollar signs. She removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes with thumb and forefinger. She was given this to do, told she was great with the numbers. But she couldn't help be resentful of the executive chef at times, who lately seemed to wander the dining room, taking the credit for work done by others in the back. That's the business, though, she told herself. She reviewed the food quantities with the two catering teams set to go out that night, and all appeared in order. Ryan stood in the back of the kitchen, observing the crew in their synchronized culinary dance. Every station was covered, hands working quickly and expertly, the new expediter keeping it all moving with ease. Mike came back into the kitchen, congratulating the crew on its performance for mucky mucks at table 4, rubbing his thumb and fingers in the air symbolizing a great tip coming their way. He smiled, approaching Ryan.

"Thanks for covering my ass with the ordering this weekend. Why don't you take the night off, Ryan," he said. "I'll be around, and keep these guys on their toes if they get into trouble."

Ryan looked at Mike, feeling somewhat guilty for the resentment she had felt minutes before. Her younger self would have declined his offer, wanting to prove herself as the strong chef she would be...and now was. But she found herself agreeing, thanking him, and gathering her things to leave.

She sat on her bike as it idled in the alley. Ryan closed her eyes and saw the address on the paper in her pocket. She started for home, but found herself driving toward the Sunset. Before she knew it, she had turned off the ignition and was sitting outside Alex's house.

She hooked her helmet on the handlebar, and walked slowly up to the doorway. She wasn't sure if the bell had actually rung when she pushed it, but she didn't want to push it again. If nobody came, it would be a sign to leave. What was she doing here anyway? She started to turn away, when she heard a faint meowing behind the white wooden door. It opened, and Alex peered out with wet hair falling in sections around her face. 

"Aquarius," Alex said softly.

Ryan looked up in agreement, walking in as the door opened for her. Alex stood by the entry table in her robe, fingers combing her hair back in a nervous gesture. She looked surprisingly feminine, vulnerable.

"I didn't expect you so soon," she said giving an effort to make a lighthearted smile. The tension was palpable.

"I didn't expect to be here," Ryan replied, her eyes gazing over the living room, noting the neutrality of the floors, the bare walls, the utter lack of any aesthetic dalliance. Form was function here. Her eyes wandered to the cat, who was meowing and slinking between Alex's calves. Ryan noted her painted toes...red. Her eyes gazed upward slowly, taking in the feminine curves the robe revealed. She dropped her bag on the floor.

Alex opened her mouth to say something, but was silenced by Ryan's approach. She leaned in slowly, purposefully and kissed Alex with a reserved tenderness. Alex returned the kiss as softly, feeling Ryan's hand on the belt of her robe. Alex covered Ryan's hands with her own, moaning in protest. She took Ryan's hand in hers and walked her to the bedroom.

It was equally sparse in decor, Ryan observed as Alex closed the door. Ryan tried to kiss her again, but Alex stepped back, pulling at Ryan's tshirt, bringing it up and over her head. Ryan looked into Alex's eyes as she undressed her in silence. What would normally be done with lascivious urgency was happening in slow motion in this white cell. Alex's robe was the last to be removed, and the two women stood facing one another at the foot of the bed. 

Alex pulled the white comforter aside, and lay on the bed, silently gazing at Ryan. She followed in turn, lying beside Alex, then sidelying to touch her. Alex looked up at the ceiling as Ryan's fingers caressed her cheeks, lips, chin, along her neck to her collarbone. Ryan's lips kissed Alex's shoulder, and she felt Alex turn away. Ryan stopped, hearing Alex's irregular breathing, he shoulders gently shaking as she cried. 

"If this is too much, I can stop," Ryan said, knowing she was lying. 

Alex sniffled, shaking her head, and Ryan placed her hand on her back, caressing softly. She moved toward Alex, gently wrapping her arms around her and holding her close, their bodies molding to one another. Ryan kissed the back of Alex's neck, fingertips gliding over her taut abdomen, feeling the curves of her hips. She sighed, trying to keep her desire in check.

Alex's arm came up and around, her fingers combing through the back of Ryan's hair as they began kissing passionately, her body half turned toward Ryan. Tongues clashed and melded, their lips sucked and nipped at one another in syncopated rhythms. Nipples touched and hardened as Ryan's body slid over Alex, whose wrists were pinned to the mattress by lustful hands. They grinded into and against one another, the wet raze of trimmed hair stimulating the other all the more. Ryan kissed between Alex's breasts, as she felt her head cradled. A surprising fullness met Ryan's lips as she suckled Alex's nipples, feeling the weight of her breast in her hand. Her fingers caressed and teased her other nipple, already hardened with excitement. Ryan's fingers moved naturally along Alex's abdomen, when she was stopped by Alex's hand on her wrist. Ryan looked up and saw Alex's closed eyes, knowing this was difficult for her to receive this pleasure, to be this vulnerable. 

Ryan looked down at Alex's abdomen, her body shaking ever so slightly on the bed, and realized her own identical fear. With knowing eyes, she got to her knees, turning her body toward Alex's feet. She poised herself to straddle Alex's face, pausing inches from her mouth, her own anxiety building inside her. She felt Alex's hands along her hips, heard her whispering soothing words in a shaky voice. Ryan looked up at the ceiling, the fan appearing bulbous in the blur of her tears. She felt Alex's lips kissing along her ass, and she closed her eyes, the tears falling. Her wetness was increasing as Alex's kisses became more intense, hungry. Alex's hands coaxed Ryan's hips downward, and she gave in, arching forward. Ryan gasped as Alex's lips traced her labia, her inner lips so slick with excitement. Her own mouth was inches from Alex's trimmed pussy, but she steadied herself on her hands, receiving what was being given. Ryan began to moan in pleasure, a sound she was so used to eliciting in others. Alex's hips began to grind as she glided her tongue inside Ryan's pussy. Ryan balanced herself on one hand, tenderly stroking Alex's pussy as she consumed her. Her initial reaction was to pull back into the mattress, but Ryan persisted slowly, whispering those same words offered to her by Alex. Amidst moaning and quelling her own climax, Ryan leaned forward to kiss Alex's mons, hearing a muffled moan in response. Ryan kissed her labia softly, tugging at it with her lips. Her fingers gently teased her pussy lips, and Alex closed her legs, continuing to eat Ryan voraciously. Ryan resigned her efforts, placing her hands on Alex's knees and grinding on her face, beginning to climax. Alex pushed her forward and Ryan spilled onto the mattress on all fours, suddenly open to all possibilities. She could hear snaps, d-rings being fastened and adjusted behind her.

Ryan looked down on the carpet, as she was near the foot of the bed. A DVD copy of Madchen in Uniform sat leaning against the wall, and Ryan focused on it, remembering the story, the vulnerability of the characters. She felt eager hands on her ass, and she looked over her shoulder at Alex through teary eyes. Alex paused, suddenly aware of Ryan's need to surrender, and how difficult it was. Alex sat down, covering her strap-on with the sheets. "I'm sorry," she said softly, beginning to unfasten the harness. 




Butch Ch. 06



Ryan turned around, laying on the bed beside Alex, taking her hand. Alex lay beside Ryan as they in silence. Ryan stroked Alex's cheek and kissed her, pulling Alex closer, the strapped cock between them. Ryan lay on her back as Alex kissed her neck. "Are you sure?" she asked Ryan.

Ryan met her eyes in response, with a gentle nod. 

Alex moved her body between Ryan's parted thighs, kissing her softly on the lips. Ryan's hands glided over Alex's back and shoulders. She felt Alex's breasts touching hers, and her excitement was building again. Alex's fingers were moving along her abdomen, her palm cupping Ryan's mound, fingers teasing her petals open. Ryan pulled Alex closer, as the cockhead was aligned. Alex pushed in slowly as their breasts met, Ryan's head arching back as the cock filled her. Alex looked into her eyes, and Ryan's hands pulled at Alex's back in response. 

It hurt. And it felt amazing. Ryan lay open to this, aware of every pang of pleasure and twinge of pain she felt as Alex pushed into her. She moved her hands along Alex's curves, increasingly aware of this beautiful woman fucking her. She knew Alex was holding back out of some sort of courtesy. And she wanted to move past that. Ryan spread her legs wider, wrapping her calves around Alex. Alex responded by thrusting deeper. Ryan thrust her head back, jarred by the deeper impact. The pain subsided as she let go of her thoughts and opened herself to this. She could hear the squelch of the cock inside her pussy, aware of how wet she must be for that to occur. Ryan squeezed her pussy around the cock, pushing upward with her hips in meeting Alex's thrusts. A groan in response. Alex changed positions, supporting herself on her hands to pump and fuck her prey as she usually did.

Ryan tolerated this, again aware of the evasive move to avoid stimulation. It did nothing for her to increase her own pleasure. 

"On all fours," Alex said. 

Ryan felt the cock slip out of her slowly, her body guided into the requested position. She felt the cockhead positioned to her pussy again, and reached back to touch Alex's hand. Alex paused, leaning forward to kiss Ryan's lower back. She continued to kiss along her ass, spreading her cheeks to lick downward between her parted legs once more. Ryan felt her pussy engulfed by Alex's mouth as Alex ate her from behind. Alex's tongue entered Ryan's pussy eagerly, and she welcomed it, pushing back into Alex's face. 

"Now," she said. "Now give it to me again."

Alex withdrew her tongue, kissing and sucking at Ryan's pussy lips and labia. A pause as Alex got to her knees again. The wet cockhead again centered, pressed to her lips. Ryan once again looked over her shoulder at Alex, eyes confident and sure. Alex pushed in slowly, easing the cock into her wet pussy. Ryan arched her back, as the cock filled her again, her pussy sucking it as Alex pushed slowly. Ryan pushed back to request more. She felt Alex's hands on her hips as her thrusting became more rapid, long and short thrusts interspersed. Ryan could feel the cock grazing her hard clit, mounting her excitement with each thrust. Her moans, once restrained, became more audible and eager. Alex responded to this, moving closer, kissing her shoulder blades as she fucked Ryan relentlessly. 

Ryan's breathing became more erratic, her moaning increasing in pitch and intensity. Her climax built and built, and this time was released by Alex's efforts. Ryan cried out, raising a hand in surrender, her pussy spasming around the cock. 

Alex stopped, holding still inside Ryan, kissing her neck as Ryan rode out the intensity of the orgasm. They collapsed on the bed, Ryan catching her breath, Alex kissing the back of her neck. Neither moved for what seemed like an eternity. 

Ryan shifted her weight, and Alex moved gently aside. The cock slid out of Ryan slowly, easily. Alex lay beside Ryan. Their eyes met with a sort of mutual questioning, but nothing was spoken. 

Licking her lips, Ryan crawled toward Alex, stopping at her pelvis, her lips inches from the strapped cock. Alex sighed as Ryan parted her lips, taking the head into her mouth and sucking. Ryan glided her tongue around the silicone, tasting herself -- the pain, the pleasure of this experience. She felt Alex's hand on her head, and she slowly began bobbing on the cock, sucking softly. Ryan's hand moved to the base of the harness, pushing gently against Alex, knowingly stimulating her clit. A moan was heard, but Ryan continued sucking and pressing on the harness. Her fingers curled under the harness, teasing Alex's pussy lips. Alex tried to avert Ryan's hand, but Ryan persisted. She glided her fingertips along Alex's wet lips, tugging at the fasteners of the harness, unclasping them deftly. 

Alex protested verbally and physically, but Ryan's mouth reached its target sooner. She sucked and licked Alex's lips open, gliding her tongue easily inside. Ryan's fingers slid up to Alex's breasts as her tongue moved along Alex's inner walls. Alex writhed and moaned, and Ryan clasped both of her hands forcefully. They looked at one another, Alex's face contorted in a mixture of emotions and Ryan taking what she needed. As Alex's moans began to intensify, Ryan pushed her nose into the hard nub of Alex's clit, which sparked Alex's climax, her pussy pulsating around Ryan's tongue.

The ceiling fan spun slowly, the room filled with the scents of sex and perspiration. The women lay side by side, facing away from one another. Ryan's foot reached back to touch Alex's.

"Thank you," they said simultaneously.