0 comments/ 10015 views/ 0 favorites Alice By: violerika The studio and offices of the Urban Music Company were in a tall grey office building in midtown Manhattan. The receptionist barely glanced at Alice's familiar face as she entered the crowded vestibule, made her way to the elevator and pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. "Tell me what you got today, Alice," John, her boss and the Urban Music company founder said in his gruff voice. His office was always her first stop of the morning. Tall and imposing, nattily dressed, John gave Alice his usual friendly grin. He sat at his desk with his feet on the window seat overlooking a magnificent view of Central Park. 'Can't Get Enough (Of Your Love),' by Barry White played softly in the background. "He's still where it's at. I have to return to my roots once in a while. Did you know the story of how Barry White wrote this song? " "No, tell me," Alice said, joining him on the windowseat. "He had finished making love to his wife. She fell asleep and he went to the kitchen and this song came to him while he made himself a snack." "That's great. And you have a point, those were good days for music." Carefully scrutinizing her notes, she filled him in on the newest music groups, along with her latest publicity and marketing ideas. "Great stuff, where do you advise us to start?" he said, waiting as always for her suggestions, before adding his own. He knew from past experience that she could pick the winners. John used the intercom on his desk to his call his office assistant for more coffee. He and Alice bent their heads together for another productive planning meeting. At 10, the rest of the team arrived, as usual, for a morning-long strategy and planning session. ------ After a full day of taking phone calls, holding meetings and observing music demos, Alice sat at her ornately carved wooden desk. She surveyed her office with pleasure: the instruments, the tapestries, the masks hanging on the walls and the vases of flowers on every surface. Inserting the CD into her player, of a Brazilian band she was considering, she reviewed the contracts of several other promising foreign musical groups. Alice stretched out the full length of her body. She drew her arms above her in a lazy yawn, noticing the way the jade color of her blouse set off her long red hair and pale skin. She ran her hands down the front of her blouse, enjoying the sensations as her fingers touched her skin under the silk. Spinning around in her chair to look out her office window, she saw a workman many stories below drilling into the sidewalk. She had noticed this worker as she had arrived at her office this morning and now as she considered it, every morning this week. He was burly, hopelessly muscular and manly, not really her type. And yet, as she had watched him in his hard-hat, dirty blond curls sticking out messily around it, and tight jeans, she had seen the power in his arms, the firmness of his ass. He had struggled to contain the juddering machine as it thrust in and out of the huge hole he had created in the sidewalk. She could imagine his body slick with sweat from the hot sun above him. How could he work in this heat? She closed her eyes and allowed the smooth beat of the music to wash over her, and the erotic scent of her flowers to permeate her senses. She felt her body awaken into a state of arousal. Alice loved the intimate sensuality of skin against skin of a lover in bed next to her. She loved the feeling of the sun on her naked skin. To her, sex was an experience that indulged all of the senses...the smells, the sounds, the colors and patterns, even the taste of it. Alice didn't have a current lover and was comfortable enjoying her body by herself. At home she had an array of sex toys in all colors of the rainbow. But here in her office, the music, the flowers and the memory of the primal dance of worker and machine was enough to inflame her senses. Alice locked her office door. Then returning to the window, she bent forward and spread her legs wide. Leaning further forward, she brought her face to the window, then her chest. What if he could see me if he looked up now? What would he see? What was his name? Probably something like Mack or Budd. How would he like this? Looking down, she marveled at the power in her long legs. Starting at her foot, encased in a delicate sandal, she traced an invisible line up her calf and then her inner thigh, caressing her warm skin. She placed a foot on the window ledge, and as her hand reached her inner lips, began to touch herself softly. She felt the heat spreading to her face and chest. She could imagine Mack's hand on her, his sweat soaked body pressing into her from behind. With slow circles and then faster strokes, she brought herself to a blissful climax. She moaned with pleasure as explosive sparks streamed down her legs. Alice was startled out of her fantasy by the ring of her telephone. Glancing at the wood framed clock on her desk, she saw that it was already 5 p.m. "We have a problem," she heard the distraught voice of her assistant, Molly. "What is it?" Alice steadied herself with a slow, deep breath. Straightening her clothes, she walked to the door and quickly unlocked it. "I made arrangements for the show at John's club for those Kenyan drummers just like you told me to do. But you didn't tell me that the musicians would be stopping here first, well, one of them is here. I don't know what to do with him." Alice's phone beeped in the midst of Molly's explanation. "We have a problem," she heard again, as John explained on the other line, "Kwame just left my office. His would-be host called to tell him that his plumbing exploded making his apartment uninhabitable. I don't have a place for Kwame. You are going to have to make arrangements for him." "What! I don't want to stick him in a hotel! I'll look over our roster of hosts but it is going to be tough to find someone at the last minute like this." Alice sat back down at her desk. "Use your connections." Molly stuck her head into Alice's office. Before Molly had a chance to speak, a man walked in behind her. Alice was jolted by the impact of his presence. He could have stepped out of one of her fantasies. Molly ducked behind Kwame, leaving him alone with Alice. "John, he's here. OK, I will talk to you later," Alice hung up the phone. She leaned back into her chair and pushed her tangled hair away from her face to get a good look at this man. "You must be Kwame." "Pleased to make your acquaintance. May I call you Alice? I have enjoyed our phone conversations and am grateful to finally see your beautiful face," he said with a deep bow, causing his braided hair to cascade over the woven gold and orange tunic clothing his broad chest. "Your beauty inspires the drums," he said with a flourish, and slid the African drum that had been hanging over one shoulder down to the floor. Squatting behind it, he began to beat out a mesmerizing rhythm. His eyes never left her face. She lost herself in his gaze. Alice felt her body responding to the music as she drank in his muscular body and dancing hands. Then he reached toward her with one hand. "Come, you try." "No, I can't, " and yet without realizing it, she was by his side. He made a space in front of him for her to kneel and guided her hand in a slower rhythm. "It's in three. Put your hand here and follow my beat." She could feel the warmth of his solid form behind her. She closed her eyes, and moved to the beat. Her telephone rang again, shocking her out of the trance that Kwame had induced in her. Alice stood, reached over to turn off her computer and grab her jacket. "Just let it ring. Give me a minute and then we will figure out a plan for you." She ran to the ladies room down the hall and applied lipstick, all the while attempting to take deep calming breaths. Her thoughts were a jumble. The events of the last hour had quickly gotten out of hand. How could she regain control of the situation? Alice decided to send Kwame's suitcases ahead to her apartment and then figure it out from there. Deliberately slowing her step, she walked back to her office to collect Kwame. As they waited for the elevator door to open, she caught his masculine scent, musk and grass in a strange and foreign combination. Disconnected words and phrases floated through her mind, eluding her grasp and sliding out of reach when she tried to form them into a sentence. Trying to regain a modicum of composure, she stood silent next to Kwame. Entering the elevator, she apologized as the crowd pushed her against him. He gestured toward her mouth with a gentle hand. Looking in the elevator mirror, Alice saw that her lipstick was smeared. He offered her a silk handkerchief and she used it to wipe her face, breathing in his heady scent as she did so. "Thank you." "You are most welcome." Conversations buzzed around them"....and we have to catch the shuttle to Montauk. I have so much shopping to do first....you won't believe the Versace she was wearing!..." The elevator doors opened and shut. Impatient workers tried to shove their way into the car, but there was no more room. Alice tried not to stare at Kwame. As they were jostled into the lobby, and out into the street, Alice was surprised to feel her body resonate like a fragile glass instrument tuning into his closeness. "We will send your suitcases to my apartment for now," she said with an authority she did not feel, "and then we will go out to dinner." Kwame's generous smile never left his face. "Thank you for your kindness." Alice pushed through the crowds of commuters to the pavement edge. She couldn't help stealing a glance to see if the workmen were still there but they were gone. Perhaps the heat was finally too much. And it was quitting time. She shot up her arm to claim the lone empty taxi that remained available at rush hour. The taxi skidded to a stop. A businessman sweating in his suit and jacket cursed at having missed the taxi. Ignoring him, Kwame graciously offered Alice his arm as she climbed into the taxi. "West 127th Street and Broadway, please." "Hey, my man," Kwame said immediately upon spying the cabdriver's medallion, which gave his name as Nobotu and his nationality as Kenyan. Nobotu spun around in his seat, greeting them with a wide smile. The two of them engaged in a spirited conversation, alternating from English, for Alice's benefit, to Swahili. From what Alice could understand, Kwame asked Nobutu about life back home and his family. He listened sympathetically as Nobutu described his trials in assimilating into New York life. The common bond of their heritage and experiences made them into fast friends by the end of the ride. ----- "What will you be having for drinks?" the waiter asked politely. They were seated on a couch at a private table, set in a recessed alcove at "Salud" one of Alice's favorite Italian restaurants. Alice ordered a bottle of champagne for the table. She watched as Kwame charmed their waiter, poring over the menu with him and deferring to his judgment as to what to order. The waiter described the ingredients of each dish in great detail, as Kwame nodded approvingly. Alice's senses were charged. She enjoyed the feeling of her silk blouse as it clung to her, revealing the womanly shape of her body and the delicate hollow at the base of her throat. She was conscious of the lacy thong she was wearing under her skirt. With this secret awareness, and with the champagne sliding down her throat, she felt a quiet confidence. Kwame turned to her and his smile deepened. "Do you want to dance?" He reached out his hand and took her arm. "Why not?" Alice found herself joining him, stilling the voice in her head that said no one else is dancing, this is a restaurant. As he held her against his chest, the few remaining crackling and buzzing thoughts melted down through her legs and into the floor below in delicious oblivion. Her eyes closed. She took inventory of the mysterious way their bodies seemed to meld together, from chest to knees. Alice allowed herself to be guided in gentle circles in the tiny floor space near their table. As the waiter arrived with their food, they sank into their seats. "Where do you come from?" she asked him. "You don't seem to be quite of this earth." He laughed a rich deep bass. "No, on the contrary, I am very much of this earth. The earth is a part of my soul, my being. That side of my nature is telling me something about you. You excite and inspire me." "I feel the same about you." "But let us not get too serious. Let us enjoy this wonderful meal in front of us." Alice had forgotten about the food, something not easy for her to do, especially at her favorite restaurant. But "you're right," she said, "You are going to love this meal." While they ate, Kwame entertained her with stories of his boyhood in Kenya. "My brothers and I were full of mischief, climbing the rooftops where we noisily banged out our own beat with sticks and rocks. When we grew tired of that, we threw the sticks and rocks, upsetting the neighbors chickens and goats, and making a mess of the townswomen's neatly arranged washing on the lines. My father spent the greater part of each year working at a factory several hours away. He sent money when he could. My mother had a hard life but she never let us see it. She would sing traditional folk songs to herself as she did her backbreaking work and these songs are forever ingrained in my mind. She tolerated our silliness. I was lucky to be bathed in so much love." He told her how he had learned to drum from the shaman in his native village, where music was an integral part of daily life. A visiting jazz musician from Europe introduced him to new music that seemed alien and familiar at the same time. This encounter changed him, inspiring him to work at odd jobs, to earn enough money to leave his town and learn more about this strange music. With a small bundle of money and his mother's blessings he wandered to Nairobi, the capital of Kenya. He was lucky to find a job as a maintenance worker at the famous archeological museum, allowing him the means to enter the Nairobi music scene. Even then, he was careful to save some of his earnings to send back home to his mother. "It is a city in some ways like New York but on a much smaller scale. There is the energy of people in transit, people trying to better themselves and a blending of many different cultures." He and the other members of the band had found each other and eventually been discovered by an African music producer, while they were playing at a festival. "Our music has evolved from what it was then. But even at that time our music was a mix of different styles and instruments, nothing was too lowly for us. We used rattles, bells, stamp drums and drums made from gourds. If we loved the sound we found a way to bring it into the mix. Rhythm held it all together but the songs tell the story." "That's one of the aspects of your music that I loved the most when I first heard your CD. I love music that is at the edge. The layers of different rhythms blew me away and the musical stories drew me in." Alice savored the steamed mussels, reveling in the individual flavors and aromas. The food and the champagne were infused with extraordinary intensity. She was ravenously hungry. Opening her eyes wide, as she tasted the subtle flavor of sage in the linguini and mussels, she saw Kwame watching her intently. "Would you mind sitting a little closer to me?" he asked. Alice slid next to Kwame's strong thigh and took his hand in hers under the table. She released her hold to reach up for her glass and then on an impulse, guided his hand onto her thigh, now pressed to his. "How did you come by the name of your group-the 'Thudding Antelopes'?" Alice asked but all her senses were with his hand resting on her thigh. She luxuriated in the enjoyable sensations, the frisson running up and down her chest and into her center, the heat in her face. "Someone called us that as an insult one time but we liked it and it stuck." "I like that it sounds like something kindergarten kids might say and yet the music is so sophisticated." "Tell me, how did you get into the music business? My guess is that you are a musician too," he asked her. "Yes, of course, aren't we all? I grew up in a musical household. My mom performed classical piano and my dad was a jazz trumpet player. They met at an award ceremony for him. I loved and hated my international childhood. I swore I would settle in one place. Now the world comes to me." His hand remained motionless and his eyes focused on hers. Guided by her subtle but persistent touch, his hand moved up increment-by-increment, first up under the soft folds of her skirt, then across the tension of her bare leg. With her guidance his long fingers touched the warm skin of her inner thigh, and finally found her wetness, waiting hungrily below. Alice's breath caught at the intimate touch and she closed her eyes. After a moment her eyes opened and she continued to speak, gathering all her willpower in an attempt to act as if nothing was happening. "You know, there was a time when I was going to be a rock singer. I went on a tour around the country with a rock band. But I got bored. They never let me on the stage." "I would let you on the stage. I would love it if you would sing for me." "Maybe some time. That was long ago." She could feel his fingers tracing circles around her mound, as she gasped with pleasure. Then a finger, followed by two more was up inside of her and she could take it no longer. Her heart thumped in her chest, her body was one long line of zinging electricity. "We....must....go. My apartment ... now." "Yes," he said, as she motioned for the waiter to bring the check. Kwame reached into his pocket for his wallet, but hastily tossing her credit card onto the table, Alice said, "No. I can...charge it... Urban Music." In the taxi home, she felt her excitement mounting. She saw ancient tribal warriors in Kwame's eyes. There was no conversation with the taxi driver. Their hands found each other in the seat between them. In silent anticipation, they maintained the outward decorum of a first date. At her apartment building, Sam, her doorman, was all smiles as he opened the taxi door for her. She let Kwame pay the fare. In the elevator they turned and fully embraced for the first time. By the fourth floor, Kwame's strong hand had found her leg and pulled it up to his waist. They pushed their bodies into each other, each wanting more. After a brief awkward moment with her keys they were inside her apartment. As soon as they entered her apartment, Alice mustered a remnant of self-control. "You wait here. I want to show you something." The apartment was spare. Alice asked Kwame to wait on the small couch in her living room, which, other than a view of the city park across the street, offered little in the way of entertainment. Alice returned to the living room after a few moments and taking Kwame's hand, began to lead him into the bathroom, her sanctuary. Sensing some resistance, she said, "relax, follow me." But Kwame hesitated. "What happened in the restaurant, this was not what I expected. Something came over me. This is not the way I usually behave. Perhaps I should leave now. I feel I may have taken advantage of you." Alice pondered his reaction. "No, I want this. You and I are connected." "Truly, I want to respect you. Let me take a moment to think." Alice was moved by his consideration. She resolved, in spite of her increasing desire for him, to restrain her own impatience and return to him the respect he was offering her. Kwame was lost in thought. Unaware of her presence, he walked to the window of her apartment and looked out for a long moment. Alice She tried to see what he was seeing. The sliver of dark sky above the apartment buildings. The hazy lights from her neighbors' apartments across the street, made fuzzy by the rain on the windowpanes. Noticing his African drum, Kwame picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. He said, "I am ready." Alice glanced first at his face for confirmation and comfortable with what she saw there, she offered him her hand again and led him to the bathroom. Guiding him to the window seat across from the bathtub, she made room for him to sit among her candles and lotions. The bathroom was illuminated by votives arrayed along the edges of the bathtub and on the shelves above. Brazilian music filled the room. Alice told him to sit back and watch. As he watched her, he beat out a rhythm on the drum now between his knees, in time to the jubilant samba beat. Alice closed her eyes for a moment, tuning into her inner dance and began to put on a show for Kwame. With her eyes now open and locked on his, she reached down and began slowly to unbutton her blouse, starting with the top. As the smooth, sensuous fabric slid over her breasts it caught for a moment on her nipples, now hard as pebbles through the thin fabric of her camisole, and sent ripples up and down her body with furious intensity. She slid first one arm out, then the other and let it slide slowly off her shoulders. Her lace camisole soon followed the blouse to the floor. She slid one strap off a shoulder, then the other, tilting her head as she did so, into a sensual, teasing pose. She unzipped her skirt, let it drop to the floor, and stepped out of it. Alice stood before him clad in her lace thong and delicate sandals, but nothing else. Kwame sat patiently waiting for a signal as his eyes devoured her near naked form. The rhythm of his hands on the drum seemed to match the rhythm inside of her. She was not yet ready to give the signal. Alice was now completely in the passion of the moment, all shyness having been tossed aside with her clothes. She arched her back and then, sleek as a cat, dropped forward onto all fours. She undulated to the music, reaching back with one hand to slide her thong over her upraised bottom and gradually down her legs, in a provocative dance. Corkscrewing herself into a prone position on the rug, she tossed the twisted bit of lace from her foot. She lay still for a few moments, then let her legs fall apart as she began to touch herself. At first she moved slowly, thinking of Kwame's touch at the restaurant, mirrored by the way his hands caressed the drum. But then with increasing pace, she stroked her moist inner lips. Her hips rose spontaneously as she arched and moaned in a passionate dance. Kwame pushed the drum aside, and stood. In a flash, he lifted his tunic over his chest, unzipped and stepped out of his pants and kicked his clothes aside. "I am sorry, he said, as he brought his body gently over hers, "I can't wait any longer." Alice gasped in astonishment as she admired the smooth line of his strong body and his burnt chocolate colored skin, against the ivory of her own skin. "No, it's OK. Your timing is perfect." Alice Here comes Alice, foot in front of foot, her hands in the warm confines of her jacket pockets, her hair carelessly tied back with a scrunchie, her eyes determinedly staring down at her black Doc Martens, step after step after step. She is not thinking. She is trying not to think. Her mind, one of the most powerful in this part of the galaxy, must be crowded with repetitive noise, white noise, random junk, in case it remembers. Left boot, black leather, scuffed, yellow stitching. Right boot, much the same. When she was a girl she couldn't remember which was right and the teacher laughed at her in front of the class. Of course her boots will be the same every step, but so will the paving slabs. When she was a toddler she peed in her wellies and she didn't tell her mum, and she walked around all day with wet feet too embarrassed to talk about it. She will keep walking this street and pretend it's Perivale until it ends, and then, well, she will take another corner and walk down that one. When she was a kid the boys threw her trainers over the school wall, and Manisha knocked their teeth out. I miss Manisha, she thinks. I miss Perivale. Fuck it, I'm making this up, this isn't Perivale. She stops. She feels the thoughts she's trying to hold back, malevolent thunderclouds at the edges of her mind. Perivale has grey streets, it has shops, it has houses that look like houses. Maybe these would look like houses, if you were colour blind. Except that they're kind of transparent. Alice is autonomous, but even though most of the time she knows what to do in a crisis, there are moments when she wants to ask for help. The thoughts edge closer. Maybe the long walk isn't working. Maybe it has to be vodka and an hour of full volume on the stereo she got from... Oh, maybe it has to be the explosives, she's sure she has some left. Maybe it has to be razor blades. The thought slipped in, and the sound of its footfall hummed in her head a moment, the memory of how she'd dealt with the pain rippling through her from head to fingertips. Sometimes you can see the pain coming and you can't turn yourself away, and you keep walking, just as she'd kept walking. At least she wouldn't have to hide it from her mum these days. Alice takes a long, slow breath through her nose, and closes her eyes, and breathes it out, and tells herself she is sane. For a moment her brain is as quiet as the streets. Actually, that's an oddity too: Perivale isn't deserted, any more than it looks like a rainbow exploded on it. Where is everyone? She peers at the shop beside her, which is orange. None of the buildings seem to be more than one colour; it's like being in a plastic model town for an enormous child. In the silence, she finds herself reading the sign aloud: "Early closing Wednesday". Is it Wednesday? Alice can't remember, but the shop is closed anyway. She shakes the door, and is surprised to find that the door is part of the building; shaking it has no effect, except that the shop turns through a murky brown colour into royal blue. Alice sits down on the pavement, head in hands, and sighs. But she's not as depressed as she might be. The interruption has changed her mind around a little, the feeling of hanging over an abyss within herself has passed, and she's feeling a little less unstable. She wonders briefly whether her situation can be used as an opportunity for something useful or fun, but after some consideration all she can think of is streaking, and though it's safer when the town is completely empty, it has a fair amount less of a point behind it. It's as well she didn't, because at that moment she hears footsteps. There doesn't seem to be anyone around, but in an empty town, sounds carry further. After a few minutes she sees a woman approaching, and scrambling to her feet gets ready at last to greet a fellow human; she is almost hungry for conversation. A moment later she is a little surprised to see it's a man she's never met before, wearing a skirt, and becomes rather more surprised when he says, "Oh, hello. It's you." "You know me?", she says. He is a short man, clean-shaven, with trusting eyes. By his voice he's from Perthshire, though to Alice all Scottish accents are indistinguishable, and he looks by his muscles as though he often handles something heavy. Alice supposes he seems friendly, and might be kind of fit if she went for blokes. "I've seen you around," he says. "You know the Dominie? Are you looking for him?" "You know the Dominie? Wait a minute," she says, and hoists herself onto a transparent aquamarine bench, sitting on the back with her feet on the seat. With a little more reserve, the stranger sits on the seat and looks up at her. She suddenly hopes he doesn't start hitting on her or something. "See," she says, "I came here with the Dominie. I knew I shouldn't have left him." "Aye, he usually knows best," grins the stranger. "No, I mean I don't know how he'll manage without me. I'm trying to watch his back," says Alice. The bench hums very softly, and turns magenta as they speak. "I went off because I come from Perivale, right, and this place looks so much like it. Then I couldn't find him again. So I've been walking around since..." The stranger interrupts, with some excitement. "Yes! When I saw it out the window, I had to leave and explore. This doesn't look like wherever you said to me-- around me, I see the MacLaren lands. And high above it all the Creag an Tuirc-- you see?" "That?" says Alice. "That's Horsenden Hill." "Everyone sees what's in their heart." "Actually, that makes a lot of sense," she says. "The Dominie said he wanted to come here because this whole thing is part of how his people control time and space. But he says it's as much part of the universe inside you as the universe outside you. He says a lot of stuff like that." "That's so," says the boy. "They call it the Matrix of the Other. Where were you trying to go through it?" She is wondering where this conversation is going. "I was pretty much walking how I liked-- why?" "The route that people take when they walk through here, or drive, determines how space and time turn out. There's a million different worlds that are and could be. Look, where I'm from," he is getting excited about his subject and drawing diagrams in the air, "where I'm from near Stirling there's a river called the Forth, and as it flows you can walk across it. But a way to the east it opens out and splits Scotland, and keeps Fife from being Lothian. Suppose we made it flow a different way. There'd be a whole new Scotland." "Oh, I never saw that before," she says. "Thanks. I knew what it did, but I never saw how you use it." "The Dominie's people all talk big about being lairds of space and time, but this is what it all comes down to," he said. "But I'll away now to the Creag, or whatever hill you thought it was, away up there; you have to end there wherever you're going. Nice meeting you," and he proffers a hand; Alice shakes it and he continues on his way. The bench is sky-blue now. She jumps down. "That's all very interesting," she says aloud once he's out of earshot, "but it's not helping me find the Dominie. I need to get out of this place, or I don't know when I'm going to eat again." She sets off walking in the direction the Scotsman had gone, up towards Horsenden Hill. You can see it from everywhere in the town, and all the paths slope gently up to it; she is no longer watching her boots. As she walks, she realises something practical that the boy's words mean for her: when she gets out of this place, the universe will have changed depending on the paths she takes, and she's been taking fairly random paths up until now. She pauses for a moment beside a lavender pillar box and considers her options. She can simply put the universe back together so she found the Dominie, if she could work out how to do that. Then again, if the Matrix of the Other was as powerful as she had heard, she can change the past to give herself a happier childhood and a sober mother. Perhaps that isn't the best idea even so, because it might mean she was a different person now; maybe what she should do is make sure she found the Dominie first, then do what she almost never does and ask his advice. But it's only because of him that she was here at all, and perhaps she wouldn't be able to find her own way back. She begins walking, watching for signs. Here was a puce hairdresser's; one of the models in the window had the Dominie's face. She takes that corner. There was a mauve street sign with the name of the world he came from on it. She takes that corner, always working higher and higher until she finds herself at Horsenden Hill. Beneath her lay the town, a long diamond lying spread out before her, its buildings jewels of coloured glass catching the sun in a thousand hues. It was only as she stands there, feet apart and arms folded, looking down on the town that feels like a solved puzzle, that she realises she could have used the Matrix of the Other to save Manisha. Manisha could have been with her still-- she could have come with the Dominie and explored the galaxy. More so, Alice could have made sure that the fascist little shits who threw the petrol bombs into Manisha's flat had spilt the fuel on themselves and set themselves on fire instead. She could have added a traffic jam to a street or two, and held up the ambulances from a vantage point five years ahead. She could have made sure the bastards burned themselves to death, or better still, condemned themselves to a long, long life of helpless pain. For that she would have trod the Matrix of the Other a thousand times over until its streets were worn thin. Hell, if she could rid the universe of them and everyone like them, she'd stay here a million years, and wear it away with her feet or find a way to break it up with an earthquake. But she hadn't. Still, she has no idea how to start treading the Matrix of the Other over again, once you'd reached the end. She sinks down to the grass and looks up at the sky, and everything becomes bright... And it was the light in her room being suddenly snapped on, back in the Dominie's ship. She sat up suddenly and in alarm. "Alice? Are you in here?" It was the Dominie's voice, and his hand on the switch, though the rest of him was behind the door. "I'm not coming in, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I was getting worried." His voice did sound worried, and strangely different, though her brain was whirling enough not to be able to analyse it straight away. "It's okay, I'm here," she said. She always slept naked, and had pulled the bedclothes over her breasts; her leather jacket with the badges and her boots and black skirt from the day before were piled on the floor. "I'm right here." "It's okay, I didn't mean to interrupt. It's just that I lost you earlier and I was looking for you," said the Dominie from the other side of the door. "No worries," said Alice. "Actually," and she lay down and carefully tucked the duvet around her body, "could you come in? I want a word with you. I'm decent." The Dominie pushed the door open and came in. "I like to give my friends their privacy, but even so I was... Alice, what's the matter?" Alice was staring at the Dominie, her eyes wide and her hand abandoning the clutched duvet to cover her amazed mouth. This was and was not the Dominie she knew. True, the lowland Scots accent was the same, the hat and umbrella incongruously carried indoors, and the crazily patterned sweater that surely nobody else in the Universe could wear; but the accent was a different pitch, the neat trousers were a neat skirt, and before, beneath that sweater, there had not been breasts. "Dominie?" Then she remembered what the boy had said, and how her walk had charmed her back into the universe where she and the Dominie were together once more. Clearly this was that universe, or one such universe. She'd just made a small miscalculation-- and really, she wasn't complaining. "It's okay," she said, "it's all okay." Her last hold on the edge of the duvet fell away along with her stresses. "I worry about you," said the Dominie, venturing over to sit on the edge of her bed. "I was walking through the Matrix of the Other with you and then I couldn't find you. I searched about as much as I could. I put the universe in some danger, you know. All that searching for you down side streets might have made it so the dinosaurs had never become extinct, or that Hitler had won the war, or that Kennedy had been assassinated. You have to be careful." "Thank you," said Alice, and looked into the Dominie's eyes, and meant it. In their relationship, as she had always thought, the Dominie believed he was teaching Alice, and Alice believed she was protecting the Dominie. Now she came to think about it, he... she... the Dominie had always had another note in the chord that she'd never let herself notice. Why was it so much easier to notice now? Alice put one hand over the Dominie's and softly squeezed it, an act she'd never have allowed herself in her own world-- nor usually in this one, judging by the Dominie's startled reaction. Alice began to apologise and realised the Dominie was not shocked but merely startled, and that her touch was not unwelcome. "I just," she said, "I just never realised before how much when you've killed monsters with me and blown shit up with me and saved the galaxy with me that it wasn't just because you were protecting me because you thought I needed protecting but because you actually cared and, shit, I'm babbling, I'm, I'm sorry, I'll shut up now," and gulped in a great sob of air, her heart racing, wondering if she'd thrown away in a moment not just their friendship but all their adventuring. "It's okay, it's okay, love," said the Dominie. "It's okay. It's because I cared. I care. I do. I l...", and suddenly for the first time she seemed truly at a loss to Alice. Alice sat up in bed, letting the duvet fall from her, and wrapped her arms around the Dominie. The Dominie held her close, and for minutes on end words passed away unmourned. Only their breathing and heartbeat were needed. Yet in Alice's head were words: now is the middle time, the last and loved and passing moment. Our old lives together are ended by this. What the future holds, I cannot tell. And she knew, suddenly and surely, that it would all be good and perfect; there were no guarantees that nobody would be hurt, but this was an end to hiding, and that in itself was a beautiful thing. And now it was up to her to bring the future forward. With her arm still tight around the Dominie, she fell backwards; with joy that Alice had never heard from her, the Dominie fell onto her lips, grabbing her hair and kissing her hungrily. Alice laughed and kicked the duvet away, and as they kissed she fumbled at the Dominie's shirt and bra and threw them to the ground. Her hands filled with the thrill of the Dominie's breasts; the roundness of them, the pliability. Alice's hands were not large and the Dominie's breasts were just slightly more than could fit in each handful; she flicked at each nipple with her thumbnail and then sat up again. The Dominie looked startled once more and then, as Alice held her close so that she didn't fall back, smiled at her. Their eyes locked for a moment, and for a moment they were quiet; then, with her help, Alice unbuttoned the Dominie's skirt and took off her shoes and socks; as the two of them slowly sank back down to the bed she slid the Dominie's knickers down to her ankles, passing to stroke her cunt for the first time as she did so; soft and wet it was, and even her thighs were damp. The Dominie kicked her underwear from her feet across the room. Alice wrapped her legs around the Dominie's thighs and they were still once more. "So, um." said the Dominie, and then laughs. "Hello, I'm the Dominie, I believe you want to fuck me?" Alice laughed. "How did you get that impression?" "Well, um, you were certainly giving that impression." The Dominie ran a finger slowly over Alice's labia. "In a number of ways." Alice shivered in deep places: she had not realised quite how eaten up with desire she was. She pulled the Dominie towards her. The Dominie ground her cunt against her, grabbing Alice's hair again, beginning to kiss her in an almost savage way, a way that hid her gasp, a way that seemed to have been learned before Alice's world came to be. Slowly at first and now faster the Dominie fucked her, her wetness and her sweat fusing them together, and Alice's nails dug deep into the Dominie's back, and she was coming, she was coming. Surely it was her nails which were drawing blood and her screaming into the Dominie's mouth, but she was in deep space, she was a star exploding and dying, she was when the universe began and she couldn't breathe... Very slowly her eyes began working again and she saw the smiling eyes of the Dominie above her, and she smelled her body and felt the touch of her breasts, so close, so intimate. She tried to say something, but nothing in her worked for the moment, and then managed to stammer out something about love and thanks and... The Dominie kissed her again, holding her close as she pushed forward to rub her thigh over the slipperiness of Alice's cunt. Alice let her body fall back against the bed and wrapped her legs around the Dominie's back. I was, I was going to ask you questions about stuff from earlier!" she said. "I've forgotten most of what I was going to ask." The fireworks were there, still, but after the sudden explosion of the first orgasm they were biding their time for the moment. "It's all right, love," said the Dominie with a smile, kissing her unexpectedly on the eyes and the lips, and slipping one finger down to slide inside her, fucking her with it as she continued to slide against her clit. "I was..." said Alice. "I don't remember. Not that I care... right now," and she squeezed the Dominie's body closer to hers and gasped. "Oh, God. I, I love you." "I love you too," said the Dominie, and suddenly she gave a face-splitting grin. "You were wonderful. You are wonderful. You're wonderful. You're always wonderful..." and Alice was coming again, not as hard as before, but for longer; screwing up her face, arching back her neck, the little bones at the base of her skull cracking. It seemed minutes before she could breathe again, and the Dominie was still lying on top of her, kissing her slowly. "Oh, that was... but... you didn't come!" said Alice, "did you?" "It's all right, love," said the Dominie, and kissed her nose again. "It's not all right!" Alice was smaller than the Dominie, but strong, and decided that she had enjoyed the post-orgasmic moment for long enough. She held the Dominie and turned her over onto the bed, scrambling up and astride her chest as she did so. She squeezed the Dominie's nipples between finger and thumb. "How's this, then?" She was expecting the Dominie to chuckle and give some flippant answer, but was rewarded instead with a gutteral gasp. The Dominie, swallowing, attempted to speak with her characteristic flippancy, but all she said was, "I... want you." Alice leaned forward and kissed her. "May I eat you?" The Dominie nodded but did not speak. Alice trailed backwards, so that her breasts dragged slowly over the Dominie's chest and belly, until she began kissing her belly-button and making her slow way down to her cunt. She parted it with her fingers and kissed the Dominie's clit; the Dominie squealed and wriggled. She bent forward and kissed it again, then flicked her tongue against it. The Dominie sighed and entwined her fingers in Alice's hair once more. "Lick it," she said, "lick it, please." The Dominie bent her legs back and up, showing more flexibility than Alice had imagined she possessed, so that she was presented with her cunt and thighs and little else, as if it had been the fascinating control system on the console of the Dominie's ship. Alice kissed the Dominie's labia, and then began to lick her clit in earnest. After a while, she began a trick an old girlfriend had taught her, of writing the alphabet so that the motion would not be too repetetive. Every so often she would stop and kiss the Dominie's inner thighs and labia, but the Dominie's hands on her hair were telling her that the clit was getting results. Alice And then she saw it. Alice had brought her head up to catch her breath for a moment, and it was there. The damp molecules sparkling in the hair beneath Alice's face were not reflecting plain colours. They were orange, yellow, mauve, purple. The shape. The clit. It was all there. "Is everything okay, my love?" asked the Dominie "I... it's just like the Matrix of the Other. It's in your..." "Um, yes, yes it is..." "But... why is there a, a picture of the Matrix of the Other... in your cunt?" The Dominie sighed and shifted her body a little. "It's my fault, love. I should have explained. You see, a million, million years ago, I made the Matrix of the Other for my people to determine the path of time and space. And then they turned against me. I wanted... I still want... to use it to help everyone in the universe. Wouldn't you, if you could change history? Wouldn't you want to change it for the better? But they said no, we can't get involved, we mustn't interfere. So I changed the rules. The Matrix of the Other became part of my very person, so nobody made the rules but me, and I fled my people wherever they might chase me. Sorry, am I getting too wrapped up in history here? The important thing is: my cunt is the Matrix of the Other." "So this morning, I was in... your...?" "Part of the side-effect is that I can change history using my masturbation fantasies. I wasn't fantasising about you this morning... much. You were just in the fantasy to help me. I was attempting to relieve the suffering of French peasants during the Seven Years War. It occasionally required persuading Mme de Pompadour to grant me her assistance," and a brief smile passed over her face. Alice thought about this for a few seconds, then buried her face back in the Dominie's cunt and began licking again. The Dominie moaned and thrusted into her face, then squeezed her with her thighs. As the Dominie wound her fingers once more into Alice's hair, Alice raised her head and asked, "So, um, do you like to be finger-fucked?" "I love it!" said the Dominie. "And... fisted?" The Dominie chuckled. "Be my guest." Alice slipped one finger, then two in, as easily as a knife through butter by this time. Three was little more work. She fucked the Dominie for a while like that, always still licking, then squeezed in the fourth as she worked. Finally she cupped her fingers to a shape a little reminiscent of the shape she'd used to jam her hands into her jacket pocket, stopped licking, and slowly and carefully slid in her thumb. A moment of great trust and intimacy passed between them. Alice slid her hand inside over the second knuckle, until her fingers were up against the Dominie's cervix, and then with infinite delicacy folded her hands into a fist. She bent down and started fist-fucking the Dominie again, the Dominie began panting and grunting, and as Alice's fist became more and more slippery she fucked faster and faster. As the Dominine gasped and grunted and began to yell a yell which would make bulls and foghorns pack up and go home, she squeezed her thighs around Alice's ears, and her cunt shuddered, and pulsed, and came, and came.. And somewhere, Manisha was alive. Alice The tattoo started at the fat man's hairline and crawled laboriously over a thick skin fold before mercifully disappearing into the collar of the chauffeur's uniform. The design was as impenetrable as the man's guttural accent and Alice was thankful he had lapsed into silence. The limo had a faint odor of cigar dusting the cracked but highly polished leather of the seats, and the thought came to her that this was a man's car. There were Financial Newspapers in the seat rack and the radio murmured a current business report. This was a car her father would have felt at home in. A crooked smile skewed her lips as she contrasted transport and destination; one a symbol of male power and the other a dismissal of same. Nervously she dug into her small black purse and fingered the keys of her cell. Images of the club flickered into being and a flutter of excitement and nerves tightened her belly. This was a first visit, indeed a first in many ways. A movement from the acceptance of her hidden desires, and the inevitable stirrings of guilt and wonder. This, the first overt step in satisfying her curiosity, and her desire to meet others like herself. She pressed the home key lightly and briefly thought of texting Tim, but closed the phone, pushing it firmly to the depths of her purse. It was lighter now as they turned from the highway and into the downtown core. The streetlights stood as erect as sentries, casting a yellow light onto the rain-slicked tarmac. As the nose of the limo found its way north it began to reflect the rainbow of neon lights that were both garish and welcoming. Finally slowing to rest in front of a formidable pair of studded oak doors. Alice hastily checked the highly polished yet discreet brass sign. She had cash ready and quickly computed the tip, thrusting the dollars into the fat man's hand; struggling against the tightness of skirt upon hips as she leaned forward. The limo door closed with an economic click and her heels sympathetically clicked a path under the multi-striped awning to the doors. The single brass plate with "Kurious Kat" engraved in a looping sprawl identified the establishment and Alice hesitated, a lone drop of rain falling from her brow to the hand poised at the handle. She glanced around, drew breath and entered. Unsure of what to expect, Alice drew her coat in tight and allowed her eyes to adjust to the subtle lighting. Shaped and contoured walls and ceilings drew the eye from the entrance hub to a central corridor, leaving Alice with the peculiar impression she had entered a luxurious igloo. The lighting was gentle and hidden, breathing reassurance. Colors were understated and elegant as were the furnishings. Music undulated through the room in breathy waves, flowing around the two couches where half a dozen women chatted. "Welcome" Alice turned to see the small mahogany desk behind which a receptionist sat. The woman was expensively dressed, with a smile as tight as her suit jacket. "Member?" The voice was pleasant but undercut with watchfulness and Alice shook her head briefly. She found the zipper in the lining within the purse and the money tucked aside there. A brief moment of wistfulness feathered up her spine as she thought of the time it had taken to save for this night, her night, her very special night. As she completed the perfunctory form she felt the woman's eyes on her. "Who would you like as your hostess tonight?" "I'm sorry?" Alice asked. The woman's eyes remained fixed on Alice as she jabbed a hand towards the women chatting on the couch. Alice looked towards them in confusion, feeling a touch of heat on her cheeks. Several of the women were looking at her, not unkindly, but enough to deepen the heat. "Sorry?" Alice repeated feeling like a complete newb. "Pick a girl, honey. She'll show you to your seat, get you settled. Fifty dollars." With her hand already clutching the money tightly, Alice began to breathe again and dropped the cash on the table. "Anybody. Anybody is fine," she said, and felt a flash of anger as she saw the glint of habitual disdain deep in the woman's eyes. She held the gaze, and said firmly "Thank you for the welcome." Fuck you, she thought. She turned and looked toward the women, catching the faintly amused look of one who had been watching her. Alice raised an eyebrow and the girl came forward. "Let me help you." She held out a hand and Alice was glad of the contact, realizing how cold her own hand was in the warmth of the handshake. "I'm Zoe. You can check your coat over here." She deftly steered Alice to the corner counter and waited while Alice exchanged her coat for a ticket stub. "First time here I take it?" Zoe asked with a twist of dryness, and Alice began to relax. Lord oh Lord, a friendly body in the big city, she thought and smiled to herself. "How could you tell? She asked returning the wry smile, and Zoe grinned as she took Alice's arm and walked her to the corridor. "It's not too busy yet honey," Zoe murmured, a slight southern accent betraying her roots. "You can have your choice of seats. There's plenty of room at the bar if you like a bit of noise, company and some action. It's a good place if you're meeting friends. There are lots of open tables or banquets. You take your pick." She pushed through a set of heavy glass doors and dropped her hand to the small of Alice's back to guide her. Inside the room it should have been noisy. The room was spacious with a low ceiling, and a quiet night turned out to be well over a hundred women sitting, chatting and ordering while a few couples danced. Yet it was hushed, with the music and conversation mingling and perfuming the air with a relaxed ambiance. The lighting was muted yet spaciously clear. Alice stood still for a moment, taking it all in. She became aware of Zoe's hand firm against her lower back. "Is there somewhere I can just sit and watch for a while?" she asked, and Zoe smiled a genuine smile. "You're no player are you?" she said. "Come with me." She walked Alice to one of the smaller banquets, a deep red leather half-oyster set against the wall, and with enough room to seat four. "You'll see me around here all night. If you need anything, ask me. That's my job. I'm going to look after you, okay?" She smiled. "I'll send Keira over to you; she's going to be your server tonight." Zoe smiled again and rested a warm hand on Alice's arm "Just take your time, look around, enjoy, okay?" Alice nodded, acutely aware that her skirt had ridden up as she had scooted around to the rear of the table. "Thank you Zoe," she said and meant it, thankful for the little drop of kindness in this New York ocean. The damn dress had cost a fortune two years ago and had been perfect for the wedding. She knew she had gained a couple of pounds, and now the damn thing was half way to her ass. She tugged fiercely at the hem. Be nice, be nice, be nice, she repeated to herself. It was three pounds max, and that wasn't bad for two years. Muscle, she thought. It's muscle from the jogging and all those damn yoga classes. Muscle! She tugged again at the hem and looked around the room. • ** The ice cubes felt hard and slippery as Alice swished them around the heavy squat glass with a forefinger. The music was loud now, with a heavy thumping tribal beat that tugged at her hips, and moved the dancers in unconscious union. She had turned down invitations to join others and was now beginning to regret it, feeling a little lonely. The crowd here was uptown, well dressed and well heeled if the clothes on the tall blonde were anything to judge by. The flash of red soles on the heels gave it away. LeBoutons didn't come cheap and those charcoal grey slacks had to be handmade with the way they hugged those strong thighs. Worth every cent, Alice thought as she admired the way the fabric snuggled the hips, and hooo boy did it ever show off that firm undulating ass................which was no longer undulating and had come to rest. Alice looked up quickly to find a pair of startlingly blue eyes staring back at her. She froze. The blonde stood still for a moment, and then with a half smile, wiggled her fingers in Alice's direction before continuing her mission to the bar. Alice started to breathe again. Busted, she thought, what a beautiful woman. A light tan face embraced by a swirl of blonde hair. She realized she couldn't truly picture the face, as she hadn't seen it for long enough. Being startled when caught rubbernecking had frozen her upload of the face pic. But hot, baby, hot, she grinned to herself. She leaned forward, neck craning, but although there was a sea of blondness around the bar area, she couldn't catch a flash of hot redness at floor height. Just my luck, she thought ah she's out of my league, anyway. She finished her drink and carefully wiped her lipstick, checking the napkin for smudging. One more drink and I'll take a walk around the place, she thought, and started to slide out from behind the table, snagging her purse as she did so. And there she was! Walking towards her with a drink in either hand, and smiling broadly, was her blonde in LeBoutons. Alice stopped, uncomfortably half in and half out of the banquet, but determined to let the blonde pass by without making another faux pas. She managed a tight smile. The blonde stopped, leaned in close to Alice's ear and murmured "I thought you might accept a gift from me?" Alice returned the smile and plopped back down on the cushions. "Sorry?" she asked in non-comprehension. The blonde pushed one of the drinks across the table and gestured towards it. "Ta Daaaaaa. A gift." Now this was some kind of gift Alice realized as she gazed at the medley of colors swirling in the flute. "I'm Susan" the blonde said, and held out a hand that felt cool from holding the flute. Susan sat on the far side of the banquet and managed to wriggle her way completely around until she was close. "What is this?" Alice asked. "I haven't seen anything like it before." Susan was having trouble hearing over the pounding bass of the music and moved in closer to Alice. "It's the house specialty," she said. "It's called a Knickerkicker Glory." She smiled. "It's like a knickerbocker glory ice-cream, except it's got a real glorious kick. Alice took a sip and felt the warmth hit the back of her throat. "Peach Snaps," Susan said, "a dash of cherry brandy, some strawberries and Ta Daaaa.......a dollop of real ice-cream. Do you like it?" The truth was that Alice wasn't sure. It was a strange mix and for sure it had that kick Susan mentioned, but it was strong; real strong. The deeper truth however, was that Alice was very much liking sitting so close to Susan. She checked Susan's throat and wrists. Her Mom had told her this was where a woman's true age showed. Older than I first thought, Alice said to herself, more like early thirties than twenties, but so lovely; so feminine; so self assured. This woman had flawless make-up, professionally applied. Alice's fleeting thought was that this had not been applied over a bathroom sink with a coffee cup balancing close by on a toilet tank. Like some did; like Alice did. "I love it," she lied. "I'm glad," Susan said. "I'm driving so I allow myself three over the course of the evening. If I'm feeling wicked, I drink them one after other instead of spacing them out." "Are you feeling wicked?" Alice asked, surprising herself with her boldness. Susan leaned forward and whispered in her ear "Why don't we finish these, and find out?" • ** Alice fished in her purse for the cloakroom tag, while watching Susan hand her tag to the attendant. As she ran a fingernail along the bottom of the purse, she envied the ease with which Susan carried herself. She looked athletic and strong as well as confidant and feminine. The crisp white shirt, artfully cut to enhance the firmly contained breasts, was both sexy and sophisticated, and the gold wrist bangles must have cost a small fortune, not to mention the matching chain that held tight to Susan's throat. As Alice's coat arrived Susan took it in proprietary fashion and gave both coats and a tag to the waiting valet; a somewhat androgynous woman in black trousers, white shirt and matching black bow tie. "Come on hon, let's get some fresh air," Susan said, holding out her hand. Alice slipped her hand into Susan's, feeling the warmth of her skin and relishing the softness of the sensation. They moved hand in hand through the thick oak door and out towards the roadside. It was cold after the warmth of the club and the outside air seemed muted after the constant thrum of music. Susan hugged Alice to her, her hand rubbing up and down Alice's back. Just as Alice was about to complain about losing her coat to the valet, there was a deep guttural roar and a sleek, low slung sports car erupted out of the underground parking entrance close by. "This is our ride Alice." Susan grinned at Alice's expression. "Jaguar F type, and don't ask what the "F" stands for," she laughed as she deftly slipped a bill into the valet's hand. "Come on, don't just stand there." As the valet held the door for her, Alice realized too late that entry into such a beast was no easy matter when you had high heels, a tight dress and perhaps a drink or two too many. After a false start where she tried a delicate sideways entrance, she took stock, hiked her skirt and went in backwards, ass-in-seat, and prayed the rest would follow. As she gazed upward she saw the valet's eyes riveted on her long legs and didn't know whether to laugh or glare, but turned away. Still got it, she thought, and smiled to herself, not sure what "it" was, but knowing she was feeling good. Really good. This was the way this night had been thought about, planned and fantasized. She was free to do as she pleased. Free to be with a woman just as she had wanted and imagined all these years. She was with a tall and beautiful woman who clearly was attracted to her. Her heart thudded, and for a moment her mind muddled and she felt a strong emotion. For a second she thought she would cry and then felt a tear burn its way to the surface. She blinked rapidly in curt response. Not going there, she thought. "Is your seat belt on?" Susan asked. "Good." She reached across and held Alice's hand tightly. "Just twenty minutes to my condo, okay?" Alice felt the power of the car drive her back into the luxurious leather as Susan pulled into traffic. It had started to rain again and the window-wipers began their hypnotic beat as the heat began to envelope the car. The rain danced smartly on the black tarmac, as the hum of the wipers blended in with soft jazz from a radio station Susan had punched in. Alice began to trace her fingers over the soft Corinthian leather of the seat, and quietly inhaled the mixed olio of smells; that wonderful new car smell and the freshness of leather together with a light fragrance. It was Susan's smell. She had loved it earlier when dancing with her head nestled into Susan's neck. It was the barest hint of -- vanilla? The dancing had been when Alice had fully committed to the remainder of the evening, whatever it was to be, and fully committed to spending it with Susan. Susan had stood; bending over the table to take Alice's hand and showing a cleavage that made Alice catch her breath. Somewhere during the night an additional button had been undone on Susan's shirt and Alice was sure it was for her. It was a message, and as she took pleasure in the sight, she knew Susan understood, and made her understanding clear with an uninhibited smile. A free and happy smile that found its response in Alice's smile, and her acceptance of Susan's hand. She had never danced with a woman before. Not counting a few alcohol-fuelled sloppy slow dances and many a multi-girl, screw-the-fellas melee. Unsure where to put her hands, she had held her arms in front of her as Susan had brought her in close with a firm grip on her hips. For a while they had shuffled in a ragged circle, until Alice had dared to lift her hands to Susan's shoulders. Alice relived the memory, bringing it into her present. She saw their bodies close together, as they found a common rhythm with their hips moving in unison. Alice closed her eyes. She deeply inhaled the vanilla aroma. Could it just be expensive soap? Susan's hands slowly climbed to Alice's waist and firmly pressed their bodies together, Alice allowing her arms to encircle Susan's neck in a movement which felt so very natural. This was it. This was what she had dreamed about; being so close to another woman. A lovely, sexy -- damn it -- hot -- woman. She snuggled even closer, feeling the resistance of Susan's breasts against her own, tightening the contact between their hips, allowing her head to drop to Susan's shoulder and relishing the strength and firmness of Susan's grasp. She felt a delicate shudder of excitement in her low belly and a touch of heat across her shoulders. As the slow dance came to an end, tympanis began to ripple an entrance into the next song, letting it be known the tempo was climbing. "I know this may seem a bit sudden," Susan asked, still holding Alice close. "But it's noisy in here, and it's getting pretty hot, and I feel like making a move. Would you like to come and visit my condo? It's not too far from here. I have a car and I can drive us." Alice pulled back and looked clearly into Susan's eyes. "I'd like to come with you," she said. "I just need to let a friend know where I'll be and how to get in touch with me. At some point to get a cab home" There was no friend, and she certainly wouldn't be telling Tim anything at all about this evening, but she had planned the line as a measure of safety. And now here she was. In this luxurious car, with this luxurious woman, probably going to an equally luxurious condo where she would for the very first time make love with another woman. The thought acted upon her like a hastily swallowed gulp of ice water. An unknown fear gripped her and she suddenly became acutely aware of herself and her body. She had hiked her dress up to get into the car and now it had risen even further, exposing the black lace tops of her stockings. Her feet in such high heels were damn near as high as the low-slung seat, meaning her legs looked like they were a mile long and totally exposed. She tightened her thighs together just as Susan's hand came across the centre console, searching out her hand for an affectionate squeeze, before dropping to Alice's thigh where it rested briefly. Alice was frozen. She looked across at Susan who held her gaze briefly. Then the moment of fear passed. So what if she hadn't been with a woman before. What was there to worry about? She would be honest and tell Susan. Things would be as they would be. She looked at the side profile of Susan's face and felt the warmth of attraction, and as her gaze moved to Susan's lips she felt that familiar tug of wanting. She wondered what it would be like to kiss Susan; to kiss those soft lips. To feel the warmth of a woman's kiss. She felt Susan's hand begin to stroke her thigh, and then stop. Susan squeezed her thigh hard. Alice swallowed and slowly opened her thighs a mere fraction. It was enough. Susan glanced at her, searching her face, then dropping her eyes to Alice's stockings, banded at the top with fine lace. "Dammit" Susan exclaimed unexpectedly loudly. "I live in that building; the one right there." She pointed with a wave of a manicured hand. At the same time she yanked the wheel hard, ripping the car hard left into the service lane which obviously led to the rear of her building. The car responded well, hugging the road and taking the abuse with ease, while Alice felt the centre console eat into her side. Alice Susan braked hard, stopping the Jag in the dark service lane close to the building's exterior parking lot. As Alice looked around she could see no movement and few cars. Probably visitors parking only, she thought abstractedly. "What's the matter?' She asked. Susan stabbed the accelerator and flicked the ignition button, letting the engine roar before gurgling to silence. She undid her seatbelt and swung sideward awkwardly in the seat. Fixing her eyes on Alice, she reached out slowly to rest her fingers against Alice's cheek. "I can't wait Alice" she whispered, "I can't wait." The pad of her thumb lightly brushed Alice's lips and then Susan was leaning over, brushing her own lips against Alice's. The kiss was gentle at first, just a simple touching of lips. Then as each felt the softness there was a desire for more. Lips felt for lips, Alice felt Susan's white teeth grasp her bottom lip and give a tiny tug. She felt her breath becoming ragged and opened her mouth, drawing back. For a moment the two women looked at each other, and then they were kissing again and again. No gentleness now, just desire for each other and wanting more and more. Alice opened her lips slightly needing to feel Susan inside her, and Susan's tongue responded by penetrating her and bringing wetness and warmth to Alice. Alice began to moan softly, almost rhythmically. Her hand was entwined in Susan's hair, and in her sideward sprawl her legs had opened. A sense of great abandon and freedom enveloped her. She wanted Susan. She wanted all of her; all of her body. She wanted to give herself to Susan and to let Susan use her. She wanted to bring pleasure to Susan, and all these feelings came out in body heat and an atavistic throat noise which throbbed inside her skull. She knew she was wet. She wanted Susan to find her. In a communion of desire Susan's hand was now stroking her inner thigh and Alice opened her legs as wide as the dress would allow, and was now thankful for how high she had hiked it. Susan's nails were scratching the nylons and now she felt hot breath as Susan's tongue found the nape of her neck. Susan noisily licked and kissed her way up to Alice's ear where she captured the lobe with greedy lips. Her hand now was stroking the satin of Alice's panties and Alice could feel the heat of Susan's breath striking her neck and cheek with force. And then both women held their breath. Silence. Susan's hand had entered under the panties from the side and the heat of Alice's passion was firmly held in the palm of Susan's hand. Eyes locked together. "Yes" Alice whispered. "Yes!" Alice felt a gentle kiss on her cheek, and then her focus narrowed to a single point as Susan's fingers began a firm traverse of the valley of Alice's lips. Across and across, and up and then down the fingers moved, with Alice barely able to breathe. She felt a tremendous tension throughout her body as her muscles locked together. "You are soaking wet," Susan murmured in awe. "Yes," Alice managed in a strangled voice. Then the fingers started to move again, insistent, pressing, opening. "Yes," Alice said and it sounded like a muffled scream. Her pussy lips parted under the constant but firm pressure, and she felt the fingers entering her, not stopping, but diving deeply inside her. She felt the warmth of the fingers, the pressure against her walls, and the blessed humanness of a woman inside her. She could no longer hold back, and with a wail she fell back against the leather seat, pushing her pussy forward, trying to engulf all of those knowing, probing fingers; trying to hold them within her as her hips set up an ancient rhythm, moving in sheer animal lust. Emotions long suppressed sprang forth and ran through her body making her shudder and she no longer knew whether it was from pleasure, lust or pain. They ran through her like waves emanating from that one fixed point in her universe, her wet demanding pussy. So much sexual passion could not be contained, and it spilled out of Alice in cries and crying and sweat and shuddering as the orgasm hit her, making her squirm and twist in her seat, but unable to release herself from those anchoring strong fingers. Wave after wave came and went until there was no more to come and she became limp in her seat. She gave a small sigh and felt a momentary loss as Susan's fingers released from her. "For me, "Susan said, as she sucked on her fingers lightly, "and for you." She held her hand out as Alice opened her mouth. Alice could taste the slight bitterness and tang in the rich thick liquid coating Susan's fingers. "For us," she said. * Alice rested her forehead against the cool damp glass of the side window. There were fewer cars in the visitor parking lot, she thought idly. It probably meant that people had exited the building and would have had to walk close by the car, but she didn't care. She was happy. Spent, but happy. The drum of rain on the metal roof was softer now and soothing. A faint smell of sex lingered inside the warmth of the car. Her smell. She smiled. A soft hand against her cheek turned her to face Susan's, and she saw the sheen of sweat under the damp strands of blonde hair. They kissed gently. "Wow," Alice said as they broke the kiss. "Double wow," Susan replied softly, but the intensity in her eyes grew. "You were really ready for that, weren't you? It must have been a while." "A long, long while," Alice replied. Forever, she thought. "Well hon, that was for you.............but this is for me." Susan was tense and focused in on Alice. "Bend forward." "What.......what do you mean?" Alice asked in happy confusion. "Just bend forward.........right down," Susan demanded as Alice rested her chest on her knees. "That's it." "Now lift your hair at the back,' Susan commanded forcefully, and Alice complied. She felt deft fingers on the fragile hook at the top of her dress and then the rasp of her zipper as it was swept down to her lower back. A moment later there was release as her bra strap popped open and she sat up quickly, unsure of what was happening. As she sat up, so Susan's hands moved to her shoulders sweeping both dress and bra to her waist in a simple motion. "Susan! No!" She was virtually naked in a car in plain sight, her body covered only by a crumple of fabric at her hips and a light screen of rain on the windows. "Yes," Susan said without smiling. "Yes Alice. I told you that was for you, and this is for me." Her hands began to gently caress Alice's breasts, light as a feather, shaping and molding, cupping and capturing. "Don't you think I've been wanting this. Wanting to touch you and feel your breasts in my hands and mouth. From the moment I saw you I've wanted this." She laid her cheek against Alice's left breast and began to nuzzle her. "This is crazy," Alice wailed, "anyone can see us. Let's go inside." There was no reply, but now Susan's hands were moving with more purpose. She cupped the weight of Alice's heavy breasts in her palms, murmuring to herself, kissing the nipples which Alice now had to admit, were in full swollen bloom. Despite her fears Alice felt that lovely tension building in her, trying to possess her. "No, Susan," she said, but the words held no conviction. Susan's kisses were covering her breasts, and her tongue licked the deep valley between them, tracing a path to the side of her neck. "Owww," Alice yelped as she felt Susan's lustful bite dig sharply and painfully into her neck, followed swiftly by light butterfly kisses. "Kiss it better," Susan murmured from between her breasts, and now her hands were rampantly exploring Alice. With no shame and total desire she reached out for Alice's body; her face, her neck, her waist, her soft belly and the curve at the small of her back, her breasts. Running her hands up and down Alice's back and returning to take possession of her breasts. Now Susan was bent right over the centre console and licking her way awkwardly down Alice's belly as her hand followed that same path. "I want you," Susan groaned in a voice thick with passion. She took a nipple between her lips and started to suckle as her hand wriggled under the mass of fabric at Alice's waist, finding the top edge of panties and pausing for a moment before burrowing underneath. It was all too much. Alice felt her emotions flying away from any control she had left. She flooded with excitement and fear at being so abandoned and so vulnerable. Her hips jerked forward in greed and need as she clasped a hand to Susan's head, holding her tight against the nipple. Her pulse throbbed in her throat and she pushed the fabric of her dress even lower, exposing herself, thrusting her nakedness forward and relishing the wantonness. Susan stopped momentarily and took Alice's hands firmly in hers, taking them up high to the head rest. "Hold onto here," She rasped and returned to that fat swollen nipple, now wet with her saliva. With arms over her head, her naked body wet with heat and sweat, and her pussy now aching for completion, Alice moaned in pleasure and turned her head sideward, glimpsing two figures stopped in shock twenty feet from the car. The two women had obviously just exited the rear of the building and had been heading for their car when they had heard or seen movement from the Jag. It was impossible for them not to see what was going on, no matter how obscured by rain and a light misting on the windows. The damn car was so low it gave a perfect field of vision. Alice froze also and watched as one of the women tugged at the others elbow and the two ran towards the lot. Alice heard laughter and a shout. Susan moaned in pure unadulterated pleasure and her suckling became stiff as Alice imagined what the two women had seen. The picture in her mind was unconditioned, unfiltered raw sexuality. Sex between two beautiful women! Urgently she thrust herself into Susan's fingers which had been slowing, and held onto the head rest for dear life. There was a sudden glare of brightness as headlights swept past them and the long double blasts of a car horn pounded adrenaline through her body. "Come with me," she shouted. "Now! Come with me!" and let the powerful explosion of joy race through her body, loving her own raunchiness, her own sexual neediness, and her own fearlessness and openness. Letting it carry her through wave after wave of loving pleasure. She heard herself laughing as if from a distance and thoroughly milked every last drop of sensation. She felt the wetness running down her thigh and loved it. She felt the sting of Susan's love bite and thrilled to it; she was happy to be exposed to the world. "Fuck the world, let it see me as I am," she shouted, and laughed again as her legs trembled with weakness. For a moment she blanked and then "came to" to find herself wrapped in Susan's arms. Still nearly naked - still happy. "My knees are killing me," Susan said and they laughed joyfully together. Alice struggled back into her dress, "Should I call for a cab to get home now?" Susan kissed her tenderly. "You are coming with me to my home. You're going to sleep in my bed with me all night, and you can go home in the morning...........if you want to go home at all."