AN: Ok, this has nothing to do with Pitch Perfect. I am very sorry but I had nowhere else to put it and I know that there are many appreciators in this movie category for lady love. It is FFem, I just couldn't find the movie category, "For Colored Girls..." If anyone knows how to create a new category or knows where the category is located, please inbox me. I'm just looking for feedback on this piece.

So this is out of the ordinary for me. I was watching the show and I don't know why this idea ever entered my mind. It might have been the dynamics and chemistry between the two characters. I do think that Gilda and Tangie have genuine affection for each other but I may have just crossed the line with it because I can. I hope that it's not too over the top or out of character. Someone should review and let me know. I pretty much spent a few hours with "Maybe" by Emeli Sandé on repeat as I wrote this. People should give it a listen; she's a great singer. Ah well, enjoy the drabble.

When Orange Crosses Black

The alarm clock reminds me that I have a routine for every day that passes. Dictate is the preferable term for the behavior exhibited by the little red box. The shiny plastic cover is what reminds me of its purpose but what the glowing screen actually glares out are commands. At 630am, I must awake. I rise and stretch. These limbs aren't getting any younger and the cracking sounds only get louder. Limbs that tangled together for warmth and self-comfort have to unwind themselves for the day. By 640am, I am in the shower and the coffee is brewing by itself. Tasks aren't tasks but habits at this point and that lousy contraption already knows that by 7am, I am ready to greet the day.

The morning newspaper already lies on my doorstep when I open the door. Crystal has gotten into the swing of dropping my mail at my door after she retrieves hers from downstairs. Poor girl. She was married. She did have two kids. Now it's just her and the ghosts she keeps. Sometimes I pray that I won't find anything on my doorstep; that maybe she just walked out with what she has and decided to never come back. Yet every day, I still open my door and my morning paper is there staring me in the face; the daily deliverer of bad news.

With paper in hand and coffee waiting for me on the table, I quietly close the door. The first hour of the day is never anything special. Really, it's more of an hour of consideration. I consider what and who is coming today but know that ultimately nothing will move across that doorway. Sitting down and relaxing only make me revel in the one constant I have for companionship; the single truth that I lost my taste for company years ago after my husband passed.

Thump.

With eyebrows heightened, I stare at the spot that just barked up at me. It's only the performance of habit that makes me even consider getting up. I raise a hand to the wall above my sink and knock back twice.

A second later, and two taps are given back from the other side.

"Hmm." I hum and sigh as though the girl in the other apartment had actually talked back. Her name is Tangie. She's my other neighbor. Girl is nothing more than trouble on tottery long legs and too tall heels. In her late 20's and the only business she takes to is bringing home a different man as often as she can. When I become the building manager, I finally took notice of the "company" the girl brings in.

Men, men, and men. Different sizes, shapes, ages, and professions. At one point, I considered one of those fools to be her pimp but then after I saw him leaving in the early morning with tail between legs, I knew that he was just another visitor for Tangie. That girl is something else.

A long nail taps against the yellow mug. It takes a moment before I realize that it is my own. Something is bothering me. It's a feeling that is deeper than bones and blood. Almost like being dipped headfirst in ice cold water while running a fever. A sip of coffee tells me that I didn't stir it up enough. The cream and sugar are still murky. I twirl the spoon through the dark depths and watch as it brightens into what I want.

Then as I tap the cheap utensil dry, I know what is wrong. The girl on the other side of the wall tapped. She didn't bang or slap or cuss through the wall. She tapped against it as though the message she was sending me might just bowl me over. Before I can come to another decision, I throw myself out of my chair and decide to answer back. My hand creeps over the wallpapered surface and as I stare, I wonder why I don't have the whole damn thing redone-

Knocking at the door makes me pull back. The conflict between answering Tangie back and going to the door makes me hesitate between them. Until another round of knocking wins me over to its side. Abandoning all other intentions, I march to the door. The locks on the door are unhooked and slide open in a crazy manner of speed mixed with experience. It swings open before I can stop myself to check who is outside.

"You banging on my wall, old lady?"

And here she is. Skinny legged Tangie herself with the sour expression that completes her on any day. If anybody were to ask us what we thought of each other, I know for a fact that the words, "bitch", "harlot", and "tramp" would be the only words running through our minds. But we've been getting along lately; on account of the fact that both of us check in on Crystal from time to time. This however is not our normal repartee.

I eye her up and down before saying the only thing that comes to mind. "You look nice, Tangie."

She rolls her eyes and pulls at the straps of her long summer dress. White with orange mums printed all over. I almost made another comment about it actually covering her chest for once before she gives me an eyeful of suspicion. "My sister sent it to me. Girl's in college and is supposed to be broke yet she's writing and sending gifts."

"Well, your sister has excellent taste."

"You mean, in comparison to me. Right, Gilda?"

My jaw hangs open as part of the habit of stopping myself from saying things that might get me in trouble. Tangie waits for the other shoe to drop. I would say she damn near loves it when we argue and curse each other over the tiniest things. If only she knew that I prefer to get the best of her; much more than I enjoy getting her worked up. I smile quaintly at the bored look on her face. The only shine she has is wild and gleaming in her big brown eyes; that's what makes me come back for more.

"Now, Tangie." I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe. "I didn't say that. If I meant anything, I meant to say that your sister thought well enough of you to send you such a nice gift."

She pulls at the dress again. This time at the thigh. "It's too long."

"It's meant to be long." Her pretty features can turn so ugly when she's annoyed and I've gotten to her with that comment.

"How do you know? Were you with Nyla when she bought the dress?"

Then quick as a bullet to the head, she guts me with her original inquiry. "So, why you banging on walls so damn early in the morning?"

"Can't have been that early since you started it."

Her light brown hair is tied up with a purple scarf but with an angry shake of her head, one tendril falls and curls against the soft cheek. "I started it? I was moving my stuff around when you start knocking on the wall like you ain't got any sense left in that old head of yours."

I stare into her eyes at this point. Dark circles are all around. She has no makeup on; which she never actually needs but never does without. The collarbones are sticking our further than usual. The girl is a skinny little thing but since she quit all her nonsense, she gained a few pounds. Her figure went from poky and frail to sleek. I try to capture the source of this sudden animosity and all I can come up with is, "When's the last time you got some sleep, girl? Or some food?"

Again, she rolls those pretty eyes around as though they can't stand to look at me. We know each other in a way that most won't ever know another person. Danced and sang with the same devils; the other difference is she got some time to change her act before she ends up like me. Alone and fretful over someone that doesn't give a damn about anything. I wait quietly for an answer before returning to my own little hole. The fact that I leave the door wide open doesn't get past her.

"Hey. Where ya going- Gilda, I don't have time for this shit!"

Her nasty words and dark attitude mean nothing to me. I open my fridge wide and survey what a girl like that will stomach. "Just get your behind in here before you let in something!"

More cussing and stumbling around the hallway tells me that she's made her way in. The slamming of the door lets me know that she's set to stay. Now I just got to get some food and drink into her. Tangie stomps into view with waves falling out wildly and glares getting meaner by the minute. "What do you want, old woman?"

My stove is already lit up and ready. I look at her with two eggs in hand. "How you like 'em?"

The flyaway expression between nausea and famish tells me that she's not eating because she's at the stage where food is more bother than needed. Nonetheless, she just shrugs and picks at her nails. "Don't matter to me 'cause I'm not hungry."

"Over easy then."

I use my fingernail to break one open and just like that she's calling out to me.

"Fine." The heat of pan makes a bead of sweat drip down my neck. Her eyes follow the drop from ear to shoulder as she snarls tightlipped. "Scrambled."

My own smile takes over and I nod to her with all sense of approval. "That's better."

Immediately, she starts up her protesting with jaw wide; like a snapper fish. "Gilda, you can't be just comin' all up into my business. What I eat or drink, when I go to sleep and who I go to sleep with is my business. You need to keep your nose out of it."

With skillet in hand and wooden spoon in the other, I fry her breakfast in silence. She knows that I've had my say and she knows that I am not going to explain myself; I don't have to. We're not kin; we established that through harsh words and bickering by the millions over the years. I'm not trying to replace her mama; that woman lives just a few blocks away. As for friends, we don't have it in us to play nice. Not that you need to if you're going to be friends but it helps if you don't feel like that person doesn't want to push you down the stairs.

The glubbing sound of my mug being set down on the table has me turning to her. "There's mugs in that cupboard and the coffee's over there. Fresh pot."

The honey brown eyes are chanting their curses and reciting their damnations at me. I just give them a smile and a look that asks her why she's taking so long to get one damn cup of jo'. The motion of getting up from the table looks so hard that I almost feel it myself. Anyone who knows that complete sense of being defeated and exhausted understands that grace she's carrying. I take a plate from the drainer and put her meal down. Hot and steaming, I carry it to the table.

Once seated, she looks between the eggs and me. I wonder for a second if she considers that not eating is not an option. "You don't have any forks, Gilda?"

I want to laugh at her insolence, like a spoiled uppity child. Instead, I pick up my mug and go over to the silverware drawer. Warming up my coffee and grabbing her fork are all once steady action. I feel her eyes on me. Up over my hair and onto my shoulders. For a second, they're on my hands. Watching me put a spoonful of sugar and crème then I stir. But once her eyes settle below the waist, I look at her.

"Something messing with you, Tangie?"

The question is so light and heavy that she doesn't seem to know what to do with it. Of course, she didn't keep staring at whatever she was staring at. No, her eyes traveled back up to me so fast that they are wide and frightened as a deer's but only for a second. Then they sink back into the dank depths of exhaustion, sarcasm, and frankly not giving a damn. I hold out the fork to her as I sit. Her long fingers take it and even more so, they do it with caution so as not to touch me. Heaven forbid, Tangie make contact with her longtime enemy Gilda.

I blow over my coffee and ask her the same question as before.

She takes a small bite. She doesn't rush into the food so I know that she's not trying to starve herself. Else, she could just gobble the whole thing make herself sick and go home with an empty stomach. We both wait for her to finish. I want to know what has her so twisted and she's intent on finding her own way of telling it or hiding it. After a short sip of warm liquid, she clears her throat and stares at the cheap tablecloth. "Nothing's messing with me. Just having sleeping problems."

Her fork rolls over the food as though covering her tracks. I watch it go round and around before trying again. "What kind of sleeping problems? You ain't had no men over so no one's keeping you up."

"That's all you can think of when you see me. Ain't it, Gilda?" The tiny form huffs up and her nostrils flare with irritation. "I'll have you know that there's more to me than what's between my legs."

"Oh, I know." Finally, it's cool enough to sip and I speak to her from over the cup. "I'm just waiting to hear it."

Her voice comes out unsteadily all of sudden. "I keep having dreams."

My cup lies down with the pitch of my voice. "Bad ones?"

"No." Another shake of her head and another wave comes down. "But I can't be having 'em, Gilda."

We both stop for a moment. She is only the biggest pain in my ass as the building manager and as a neighbor. However, with Crystal's health and safety constantly being a worry on my mind; I can't have another girl across the hall becoming ill over some little thing. On the other hand, I know Tangie and I know that whatever is bothering her isn't some little thing. That there is the concern, worry, and hesitation all wrapped into one.

Her skirt is up mid-thigh. For a moment, she looks like a little girl. Hair messy with nowhere to go. Feet bare. By the time, I finish my thoughts and look at her face; she's got a new mask on. I see now that I've never seen Tangie look nicely at someone but she looking at me that way now. I give her one of my curious expressions and all I get back is a small laugh.

"You're something else, old woman." Her shoulders hunch her over as she takes another bite. "I'm having dreams that keep me awake at night. Making me think that I'm losing my damn mind."

"You seein' anyone about them?"

That makes her perk right up with her snuffy attitude. "Just you. Just another loony banging on my wall in the morning. You ain't never got no man to worry about waking, Gilda?"

"Not since Toussaint passed."

I tip my coffee and enjoy the rich taste. She watches me with something I ain't seen before. What is wrong with Tangie, I ask myself, what is so wrong that she actually let herself come in here and let me feed her? Maybe she is losing her damn mind. Then again if it's a mental thing that's making her kinder then maybe I should just let her brain rot. Her plate is cleaned and it doesn't take her long to get up for another pot of coffee.

"Gilda?"

She stands there with the glass pot in the hand, eying me quietly. No words but she's asking loud and clear if she go on with her question. I only stare back and wait for her to begin whatever it is she's starting.

"Why don't you have anyone?"

It's a slap up the head and the offer of a hug in one. At least, it would be if anyone else was asking but with Tangie, she's just trying to get the around her own mess by dealing with mine. Well, mine is long dead and the corpse was dragged out years ago. I guess I can let her know that much.

My nails scrape at the little daisies in the tablecloth. I think on what to say while she finishes filling her cup. "I told you once that I knew you because I used to be you. I meant that, Tangie. I was you."

Her lithe arms rise up to take down her hair. Pretty gaze though never leaves mine.

"After Toussaint died. Everything that was good, everything that he made good went with him. I could say Toussaint was sunshine and I was window glass. His shine filled me up and made me warm."

She unwraps and unwraps. Her hair has gotten long. Longer than I had thought.

"But glass without the sun is nothing. It's clear and it breaks easy. People see right through it and they smash it just to see the pieces." Dimples move across her smooth cheeks as she breathes in my words like oxygen. "Men weren't what broke me though. I thought I was using them. Using their bodies and their words and I was but I still wasn't using them."

It's only a tear, just one tear that falls but it is only added to the millions that have already flowed. "I was using me. I was doing the job for them. Just because I believed that there was nothing in me."

Finally, her hair is free. It shines bright and clean. The dampness from morning showers still lingers through shine and scent. The black roots extend down past her chin. I do appreciate the fact that she stopped using that tacky brown. The dark color gives her so much more.

"You say you were me. I could believe that." Her lips are bitten and then stilled. "Maybe you were once Tangie."

The long delicate fingers move towards me before I can. Warmth rubs away at the stolen tear I caused. So soft and tender that it can only bring more tears. I close my eyes at her unexpected show of comfort.

Her voice drifts closer to my ears. "But now you're Gilda and there's a lot to you. A lot more than nothing and Tangie."

Arms come up around me. The mango-lavender smell of her rests on against my cheek. Her chest presses to the back of my neck and she cradles against. More wetness down my neck and it's not my own. My gaze opens to her wrapped around my being. She cries and for once, I don't know if I have it in me to call her out on it.

"Tangie." I speak over her sniffles, over her charisma, and over her beauty. "These dreams, honey, what happens in these dreams?"

"They're the same. Always the same scene. Waking me up and I find myself feeling things that I shouldn't want."

The muffled squeak of her voice against my necks sends chills through me. Her breath washing over me and I can smell is coffee. Her weight sinks down on me but I sit up strong to hold her up. Tangie speaks in small intervals and for a minute, I think I'm hallucinating. Tangie ain't really-

"I don't want what's in the dreams but I need it. I need you, Gilda."

Between every sentence, a small kiss takes place. Behind my ear. The edge of my scalp. At the back of my jaw. I stay so still I could fool myself into thinking I've died. Only sign of life is the quickening of my heart at her words and touches.

"At night, I see your face. My hands wring themselves silly thinking they're touching your skin." At my cheek, she only brushes her lips and turns my chin towards her. "And your lips. They haunt me."

Her thumb tumbles over them. Gentle and all but in her face, she's telling me that she wants to use them harshly. Images run through my head of how she wants my lips to be. She might plan on telling me now or whispering them some other time but I know her. I can see that Tangie has thought long and hard now over what's happening.

I should have given the girl more credit.

I lick my lips, tracing over the path she laid out across them. Her hand remains cradled underneath my chin as if I'd slip away from her at first chance. I'm more aware of Tangie than ever before. Had I ever seen her as so before this moment had taken place? Did my imagination make love to her till the wee hours of morning? Were my thoughts always traveling up her skirt and down her shirt? Those are the sorts of things I want to ask myself.

As for the answers I have in my back pocket; lord, they don't match up.

Tangie drives me up the damn wall every time I see her tiny behind running off after some damn fool. When her momma visits her for money and leaves the girl behind a crying mess; I cringe at the sounds of suffering through her wall. Then there's the times that she sees me sticking my head out of the door; during those she tells me to mind my own business. This girl thinks our landlord lets her pay half now and half later on the rent because he's a kind man; she doesn't know I cover her half til she comes up with it. I take a deep breath and realize what I would have sooner or later.

Hell, I do care about Tangie. I care a lot more than what most do and I do admire her more than a friend should. My eyes ain't always been innocent when they looked the girl up and down. It's just been my own thoughts clouding what my body already knew. I want her as much as I care for her.

"Gilda?" She directs my face to be in line with hers. "You weren't here. Where'd you go?"

Then just like that, whatever spell I was under; it breaks and lets the truth crash down on me. Her silky skin peers out from underneath her dress. Her expression is all concerned but there's no wrinkle on that brow. No lines around her lips. The breathes she takes make her chest and bosom rise up.

She can dream all she wants and I can admire til the sun don't shine anymore but-

"I'm too old for you, Tangie." I give a half-hearted slap against her hands. "I'm an old woman, baby, and you- you need someone young. Someone who can share your life with you."

"You're serious, Gilda." She jerks back only inch but hasn't let go. "That's what you're gonna tell yourself?"

Slowly, I take her hands off. I keep them in front of me and look her straight in the eye. "No, Tangie. That's what I'm telling you. I'm too old for you, girl, and I need you to understand that."

"All I understand is you were looking at me how I was looking at you just a few seconds ago and now-"

She shakes her head and instead of tears, the bitterness she fights so hard against sets in. "Now you're selling some bullshit about your age and I don't know why."

Fingers snake through my hair. Caressing and appreciating at once. I try to take charge by clearing my throat and looking away from Tangie.

"Don't make this hard now. You've been doing good. Keeping your nose clean and minding your business." They keep patting and combing through; making my voice wobbly to my own ears. "You're on a good path. You could have a real life, Tangie, with someone that will be there for you for a long time."

"Gilda, how old you think I am?"

I start shaking my head and don't dare to answer.

"Hmmm? How old?"

Whatever her years, it don't matter. How can she be so dumb and stubborn and bullheaded and-

Once again, her arms return. I fight with the idea of fighting her off me and throwing her ass out of my apartment. It just feels so nice though to have her so close and she feels so damn good against me; almost too good, I'd say.

"So?" I guess Tangie figured I ain't gonna give the satisfaction of guessing her age because she starts up again. "I am 40 years old. My birthday was last month. Yours was five months ago. I put a card under your door."

A hiccup makes me sound as startled and awkward as a child. I can remember her card. It had lilies and lace edging. It read 'a birthday is special because it comes once a month. But you're special because you come only once in a lifetime. Happy Birthday.'

"I was never sure you got it until I heard you asking Crystal if she gave it to you."

When I speak, it comes out all scratchy. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Miss Gilda. Now how old are you?"

At that, I find myself looking at her like she really did lose her mind. "Miss Tangie, you can't just ask a woman her age. It's rude."

She grins high and mighty at me from above. "I gave you my age. Now you give me yours."

"I never asked you how old you are. You just told me."

Then Tangie leans in so close that I tense up. If she kisses me than maybe- Dear God, I may not be able to pull away. She pauses for a moment and stares past me into the living room as though there's someone else watching. "Think of it as a late birthday gift."

"How do you know I didn't already give you something?"

Her laugh is a kiss all in itself. Sweet and raspy against my mouth. "Because I didn't tell anybody that it was my birthday. I never tell anyone. So, woman, just tell me your age and maybe I'll give you a few more minutes to moan over age differences and such."

"I'll have you know that I am 55 years old."

Tangie reins in her laugh from starting up again but the giggles run through her body and she trembles against me. Once she conquers whatever it is she's feeling, she looks at me with sorry eyes. Not pity, disgust, or sadness. They're happy and shining as though I just told her a good one.

I watch her carefully. She gets in as close as possible and then bypasses my lips. Goes straight to my ear and says. "55 years old or not, Gilda. I am going to kiss you and I better not hear anymore of this nonsense."

As soon as she comes back around, I try to turn my head away. My eyes search for something to focus on; anything that will hide me from her. The cheap white curtains. The toaster oven that always burns the toast. Ceiling fan with the squeak. Linoleum floor. Anything but Tangie.

I think she's gonna force me back to her. Maybe walk around to try to get me to kiss her. Grab me to her or something but nothing comes. I want to see what this is doing to her. Maybe she's crying and she's hurt that I don't just give in to her. I don't know but I know that if I do look than I will be lost to her. Then just as I think she's given up, she surprises me once again.

The first place I feel her at is my pulse point. She does it so softly. It's just a graze but it makes me clutch onto the edge of the table. Her lips travel up and down my neck at a dead man's pace. Her tongue starts its course too; leaving dry kisses and wet kisses all over. I assume she's going to come around to my lips and she does just the opposite.

She grips my knees and turns my whole body towards her. Without her saying so, I open myself up to her and she fits perfectly. Kneeling on the ground, she presses my legs to wrap themselves around her waist. But even when Tangie talks to me, I keep my eyesight away from her. To see her like this would be the beginning of the end.

"I told you, woman. I'm going to kiss you. I just didn't say where."

Just the statement makes me want to clench my thighs together. I know that she can feel the dampness through the layers and if not, then she can certainly smell it in the air. The smell of me wanting her and needing her. Musky, sugary, and dripping; I feel my desire pooling in between us.

Tangie doesn't pull at me or demand a response. Her actions are measured in how they're going about. Her fingertips touch me as one would touch a pool of water. You touch it to feel the surface break and to see the ripples from a single touch. Circling and circling at my collarbones; I feel dizzy and hot.

One of the fingers takes itself down my cleavage. Her coolness against my blazing flesh invigorates and refreshes. She takes the moment to kiss the joining of fabric and flesh at the top of the shirt. The line of buttons comes undone at a pace that I can barely stand. As one button pops out of its hole, she licks at the exposed skin. Eight buttons and eight laps of tongue making me feel like lightning is flashing through my being. Before she undoes the last one, I remember the reason why I opposed this in the first place.

I yank my shirt back together. A speech about how 'I ain't as young as I used to be and neither is my body' shakes around my head. Then I finally see Tangie in full form before me, and the whole objection dies.

How can I say no to that look she has? Those eyes aren't looking at my body. They aren't counting the years and the failures I've had. They're looking at me. Not only that, they're loving me and desiring me. Most of all, they're pleading with me.

It appears almost painful for her to not be touching me.

"Gilda, please."

The words drag through her tone of adoration and lust as though it were killing her.

"I've never had anyone I wanted to love like this. Please let me love you."

I could stop this. No, really, I should stop this. I hang my head for a second and try to find the will to send her back to that shabby apartment of hers. I stand up and Tangie sits back on her heels. Her face tries not to mess itself up. I can see she's holding back and I know I am too.

Maybe that's why I hold out my hand to her.

"Come on."

She takes my offer and rises before me. Her height has her looking down at me. I don't smile at her as I normally do. I pull her with me as I walk around the chair and head away from the kitchen area. I walk through the creaky hallway. It's only a few steps but it was more than enough for me to reconsider; for me to send her away. Instead, I take us through my bedroom door before anything can stop me.

The queen bed and vanity are the only things I keep in here. She looks around, surveying it, and gaining a sense of me. I like blue. She can see it in the cobalt rug and ocean blue comforter on my bed. The sliding doors of the closet hide my belongings but a blue coat's arm peeks through. Tangie nods in approval before her eyes venture down to my open shirt. I cover myself automatically and apologize.

"Tangie, I-"

Her hands cover mine and her forehead comes down to rest against mine. "Woman, you're beautiful. Don't forget I've dreamed about you. Naked, half-naked, and with your clothes on."

"Those were just dreams, Tangie."

Her smile is wider than ever and has me smirking at the idea of her fantasizing about me. That is where my curiosity comes. "And you never told me what was happening in those dreams of yours."

The pretty girl blushes a rosy brown. Her lips pinch together and I laugh at the expression. For once, the outspoken girl has turned into the shy one. But seeing me so pleased at her retreat only makes her bolder than before. Her hands start pulling at her dress straps and I find that laughing is no longer appropriate for the situation.

"Well, Miss Gilda, sometimes words aren't enough. I'll just have to show you."

With a single drag over a shoulder, the entire dress falls. As the fabric floats down, I find my mouth dried out. I swallow nervously and curse myself for not noticing that she had been wearing nothing underneath the entire time. Her complexion is the same honey brown as mine and yes, our hair is the same midnight color. But where I am thick, she is slender. The round hips and slender legs only give her more shape. Her stomach flattens under pert breasts. The areolas stand out against the rest of body, chocolate brown with nipples erect. Then as my gaze flickers down to her other black curls, I notice the subtle twitch. Instead of looking at her face for answers, I see the glisten of her sex and proudly learn that she is just as aroused as I am. Even by me just looking at her.

Tangie comes to me with hands at her side. Her presence overlaps mine and I can smell her musk. It's deep and just as mine has; it carries its own sweetness that makes me inhale again for more. She takes my hands away and my sad little green button-up hangs wide for her to see. Her hands slide it down. As it is taken off, her skin covers what it had hidden. All the way through until she reaches my hands.

She brings them up for a kiss. One on each palm. I sigh at the show of affection. She bites my wrist playfully before soothing mark with tongue and lip. Her other hand takes advantage of my distraction and opens my trousers. They fall down without any help from her. With me open to her, Tangie reaches around me. I wait for my bra to fall but it never comes. She holds me against her. Her naked figure molds itself to mine. My head lies over her heart and I listen. The double beat soothes me as her hands began their exploration.

They undo the strap but there's no rush to fling it away. Fingers smooth away the marks made from the pressure of wearing that brassiere. They massage deeper and deeper until I moan against her neck. I feel a squelch between my legs. More wetness flows down and I consider what Miss Tangie will say she gets down there. I don't have to wonder too long because her hands glide down my back and when she gets to my hips, her fingers immediately pull down the band.

Her gaze is the only order given yet. It holds onto mine as she kneels once more just to remove my panties. I stand on one leg and let her take them. She does so and still looks at me with that burning stare. By this time, I could burst if she doesn't kiss me or touch me once more. One of her hands creeps forward. I watch the long fingers and soft palm cup the shadowy curls. I almost faint into her touch but her eyes have me hypnotized and determined not to break away from this. She brushes the wiry hair then tilts forward to follow her hand.

I remember what Tangie had just said to me in the kitchen.

I'm going to kiss you. I just didn't say where.

Her lips touch on the top of my mound. Then lower and lower- Her tongue comes out and I try not collapse at the sensation of her swiping through my slit. My eyes roll to the back of my head. She holds onto my hips and only kisses there one more time. My core flexes itself and I cup my breasts at the little quiver it causes.

She stands. I consider throwing her down and having my way with pretty Tangie. A stripe of wetness on her chin though gives me a better idea. I take charge and pull her down to my level. Her lips pucker up as I taste myself on the edge of her chin.

Salty. Sugary. Heady.

"I dreamed of that. I imagined how you'd taste and look when that happens." A hand grabs my behind and squeezes. "Reality is so much better

I bite her shoulder and move us to the bed. Pull the covers back and I motion for her to lay down. Tangie crosses her arms and juts her hips forward in jest. "Oh no, Gilda. This is for you. I don't want you even lifting a finger."

"I don't have to "lift" the finger if you don't want me to."

I crawl onto the cool sheets and blush at the admiring stare she gives to my body. "Maybe later."

Tangie makes her way over to me. Her ass moves itself side to side and I watch the wave of her breasts as she does it. The only weight I feel from her is centered hip to hip. My head throws itself back when her chest presses against mine. Her lips suck on my neck. I find my hands running all over her, feeling out every possible curve. She grinds herself against me and I buck my hips in return.

"Gilda."

My eyes open to her hovering above me and the move that seals everything together happens. Her lips against mine and us both disappear. Her skin is so smooth around mine. I nip at her bottom lip. The groan she gives makes me push my tongue through. The kiss deepens into a flurry of nips, sucking, and moaning. Pressure isn't building inside me but fluttering. It's outside my body as much as it is inside. The pleasure is suffocating me as much as it is fighting to get out.

Tangie breaks off from my mouth and before I get the chance to feel disappointed, she latches onto my breast. I arch from the bed and go further into her mouth. A bite at the breast and I'm whimpering to her.

"Harder. Tangie. Do it harder."

Her tongue circles and flicks around the nipple. The dizziness and lightheadedness increases when she switches to the other side. Her hand works in tandem with her mouth. I get to the point where one more suck could send me off but she stops. My breathing is so ragged that I clutch onto the sheets. Her licking continues down my stomach. I sense what Tangie plans to do and can't help but watch her go down on me.

She throws my leg over shoulder and grins at me with delight. Her long hair goes to the side. That's the last thing I see before her mouth clamps over me. My eyes go back and my face strains at being caught in the throes of passion. She takes long licks and soft bites. My hips curl up to the point that she pins me to the mattress. I feel her lips grab hold of my clit and suck. Slow then fast and hard then soft. I don't know how long it lasts. Just long enough and still I hope it'll never end.

Her hands find mine and she intertwines our fingers together. I get closer to climax. Tangie never stops. If she gets a whimper from me, she continues until I'm crying and humping against her. Her tongue drags itself all over me. The slurping sounds from her only make me wetter. Then it's there, her tongue inside me. It flickers and moves in a way that has me losing my mind. I try to not lose control but it's too much. The pressure in my lower stomach heats up to boiling. The pulsation makes me moan louder than before. Her name falls from my mouth in repeat.

"Tangie! Tangie!"

Then as her tongue curls around, I come. I rock against her and only hope that I'm not hurting her. She just pulls me closer and keeps going. The sounds betweens changes tempo and she slows down on me. As my insides unclench and let her go, Tangie settles with kisses. I still jump when she place one big wet one on my clit. She giggles and licks the inside of my hip.

My hand touches her hair and all I have the strength for is to bring her close for a kiss. This one is so much different from the beginning. Our lips know each other and our tongues know the other even better. Spots are touched and filled bringing out more moans. A final peck and she lays her head down on me. I keep an arm around her as she curls up next to me.

"I hope you know, Gilda, that this was just one dream."

I pull the sheets over us as her eyes flutter close. I only have one final whisper for her until my own exhaustion sets in.

"Well, Tangie, I reckon that I have time to make all your dreams come true."