Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia, Emma, and Sam Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Doris, Ashlee, Berry, and Bob Wolfe, Beth Raines, Phillip, Lizzie, James, and Alan Spaulding, Buzz, Daisy, and Frank Cooper, and Jane the nanny are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera, Kendall Hart Slater and Zach Slater, Alexander Cambias, Sr., and Erica Kane, as well as the fictitious corporations Cambias Industries, Chandler Enterprises, Cortlandt Electronics, Enchantment Enterprises, and Fusion Cosmetics, belong to ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Jennifer, Tracy, Jacob and Dylan Jackson-Morgan and their extended family, Detective Sargent Langston Malloy, and her parents, Carrigan (Carrie) McKenna Malloy and Lorcán Malloy, Attorney Danika, Kováč, and her parents Alaina (Laney) and Daněk Kováč, Judge Bennett Thomas, Jake and Preston Morgan, Jackie Hanson, and Diane and Toni Martin are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
All errors are the sole responsibility of this author, as this update has not been edited.
Thank you all for continuing to read and post comments. I will do my best to respond to each of you personally, but in the interim, please know how very much I appreciate hearing from you all. Also, I wanted to say welcome to the new followers of Confessions… I'm pleased to have you all along for the ride, and hope you continue to enjoy this story as it unfolds.
Rating: This section of Chapter 14 is rated NC-17 for colorful language and sexual situations.
I hope y'all continue to enjoy!
Kimberly
P.S. Happy Birthday to my dear friend and faithful FFW, WickedWanda926, who seems to have this ridiculous idea that not only is she entitled to gifts on her own birthday—hence the appearance of this chapter today—but also on my birthday, as well. I tell ya, some people… SMH… Love ya, my friend. :-P
This chapter is also a belated birthday gift to my friend dumle2209. I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to get to know you this past year, and look forward to knowing you better in the coming year.
Finally, happy birthday to anyone else who might be celebrating this month! Leave me a message so that I may celebrate with you. I wish you all a year filled with peace, happiness, and blessings abundant.
Much love,
Kim
P.P.S. to WW: I know it's after midnight in your neck of the woods, but I managed to get this posted by midnight my time, so it still counts. :-P I hope you've had a fabulous day, my friend. xoxo
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."
— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)
"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
Unknown
Chapter 14.24 – Trials and Tribulations:
Friday, June 19, 2009… Morgan Financial Corporate Offices—3:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"What the hell is going on here?"
Delivered on a bark, Preston Morgan's demand for explanation was accompanied by a menacing glare, leveled at the two intruders who dared enter his boardroom, unsolicited. To say that the old man was testy would have been an understatement, after the ordeal he had faced the night previous. And now these women were standing in the boardroom of the company he had toiled to build, like they owned the fucking place. Well, fuck them, he thought. They had no business invading his lair. No fucking business whatsoever.
Except that they did.
Bolstered by his overinflated sense of self-entitlement, he cast aside his irritation. There were far better uses of his time and energy. Exchanging it for a pointed exhibition of supremacy, he leaned back, settling his bulk firmly against the back of the oversized leather executive's chair at the head of the massive cherry wood boardroom table. Much like in his office where the desk and chair were meant to intimidate, this table and the chair were tangible symbols of the power Preston Morgan possessed over those who entered this room.
But the cyphers of domination did nothing to quell the energy that crackled in the air.
Dressed to kill, and armed with more ammunition than they would need in ten lifetimes to accomplish their goal, the powerhouse team of Spencer and Montgomery-Kundera returned the old man's menacing glare with equal fervor, as they stepped forward to address the Board of Directors at Morgan Financial.
The room fell eerily silent.
All eyes were trained upon him, and obstinately, Morgan refused to permit any sign of the tension that swelled inside him. Clenching the girth of a pricy Cuban cigar with a double-bladed cutter, both of which he had extracted from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he set his jaw with determination. The golden surface of the instrument glistened in the incandescent lights above, as the blades sliced through the tough outer shell of the cigar, shearing off the tip with expert precision. He set the cutter on the surface of the table, with equal care, his rancorous expression daring anyone to challenge him.
Grasping the remnant between pudgy fingers, he reached out to his right, and his glare still fixed on the intruders, he dropped it into a crystal bowl that seemed to levitate above the antiqued brass rostrum that anchored it from beneath. The movement was so practiced that its banality was obvious, even to the two strangers in the room.
Firmly planting the butt of the cigar between his teeth, Morgan puffed out his chest in a show of superiority, as he fished a solid gold, diamond-encrusted lighter from the pocket of his suit vest. His beady dark eyes dared Olivia to speak as she watched him flip it open with a stubby thumb. Another flick of his thumb brought a flame, its heartbeat glowing blue like sapphires. And then the pungent aroma of cigar smoke infused the room.
There were subtle coughs and restlessness from those sitting closest to the financier, but he ignored them, choosing instead to cover the noise with the sound of his own pompousness.
"Who the hell are you people?" he demanded upon exhale of that first long drag.
Apparently, an emergency Board meeting had been called without his knowledge or consent, and he had been summoned to the boardroom like some sort of minion. After being awoken in the middle of the night, and dragged off to jail like a common thug, this latest disruption was like salt in the wound. He was not amused.
Squaring her shoulders, Olivia smirked. She looked every bit the business tycoon in her impeccably pressed dark gray Armani suit, and sleek, black Jimmy Choo sling-backs. The sudden flick of her neck brought her perfectly coifed shoulder-length curls to settle against her face, framing it magnificently. And then she stepped up to the microphone at the podium. "I'm quite certain I need no introduction, Mr. Morgan. You're well aware of who I am," she said coolly.
They had crossed paths in both business and social circles, sparring on many an occasion over the years; especially during her time at Spaulding Enterprises. She would take no flak from him now, any more than she had taken it from him then. He was no fool, and she knew it. He knew exactly what she was doing there. She glanced at Lena, tipping her hand. "But please allow me to introduce my business partner…"
She paused for effect, and then added, "Lena Montgomery-Kundera."
Preston recognized the name, and immediately, his face turned ashen. His pulse increased to an alarming rate, and beads of sweat spontaneously appeared on his brow. They glistened in the crude florescent lighting. Lena Kundera was the President and CFO of M-K Financial, the parent company of Montgomery-Kundera Investments, and several of its subsidiaries. Five years ago, the corporation had burst onto the financial investments scene, seemingly out of nowhere, and now it operated amongst the ranks of the biggest names in the business—including Morgan Financial.
He had known for weeks that someone—some nameless, faceless predator—had been ravenously buying up every last available share of his corporation's faltering stock. He had tried, in vain, to uncover the identity of the buyer, but that information had been meticulously cloaked in a series of dummy corporations, and even his team of legal experts hadn't been able to determine who was behind the operation.
Now he knew exactly who was behind it—and he knew that he was screwed.
From the moment their plan was hatched, Lena had been in contact with some of the heaviest hitters in the world of corporate finance. She had also set trusted members of her personal staff to the task of contacting every single shareholder on the Morgan Financial record books to obtain their proxies for a special vote. A simple, forthright explanation of the dire financial straits Preston Morgan had placed the company in had been more than enough to convince a majority of them to sign over their proxy. Once their proxies had been obtained, strategically-placed calls to key board members had ensured that their efforts would be supported, and set in motion the events of the day.
And now, thanks to Lena's meticulous planning, the stage was set to take him out, and Olivia had called a special meeting of the Board. If Preston had any clue as to the anonymous sources of the capital, which included some of the largest clients at M-K Financial—Cambias Industries, Chandler Enterprises, Cortlandt Electronics, Enchantment Enterprises, and Fusion Cosmetics, as well as Beacon Enterprises and BGRC, and individuals such as Alexander Cambias, Sr., Erica Kane, Zach Slater, Phillip Spaulding, and Doris Wolfe, he would've realized that he was royally screwed.
Before Preston could say another word, Lena stepped up to the microphone, easily taking command of the room. "Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board," she greeted with warmth and professionalism, while taking time to meet the gaze of each person in the room. Those who hadn't already been won over by her persuasive charms and obvious business acumen were now overtaken by her beauty, and she knew it. Men and women alike, she could see it in their eyes, and she wasn't ashamed to take full advantage.
Much about Lena Kundera had changed in the six years since she met her wife, Bianca. But some things never did, and this was one of them. The difference now was that she no longer used the physical act of sex to conquer her prey; only her undeniable sex appeal, in times where it worked to her advantage. This was one of those times, and she made no apology. "I've spoken with many of you over the phone in recent weeks, and I must say, it's a true pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face."
Noises of agreement resounded throughout the room.
Morgan looked positively sickened. His board members had betrayed him. He owned those bastards! How could they! And yet they had. He could smell it, just as surely as they could smell the stench of his cigar.
"Why the hell are you here?" Morgan demanded upon exhalation of another repugnant puff of smoke. A gray cloud lingered in the air above his head.
"We're simply concerned about the welfare of Morgan Financial's stockholders," Lena said, innocently enough to earn a veiled snicker from the gentleman midway down the table on the right-hand side. Jamison Davis, she silently noted. His refusal to back their plan had made him one of her unwitting targets this afternoon. She was well on her way to turning him, and he didn't even know it yet.
"My stockholders are none of your fucking business," Morgan barked.
"Au contraire, Morgan," Olivia said on a French accent that was as condescending as it was contrived. "Your stockholders are very much our business. Especially after your little… outing last evening," she tormented.
"Last night was a load of horse shit," Morgan claimed, unconvincingly. "I was framed."
"Yes, Mr. Morgan," Lena interjected. "And I'm a natural-born American citizen." Her thick Polish accent rolled off her tongue with practiced ease, punctuating the sarcasm in her tone. It charmed a good number of the board members, and chuckles threatened to erupt around the table.
Morgan opened his mouth to protest, but Olivia held up a hand the moment his mouth was agape.
"Save it," she snapped, dismissing him with a single gesture. "It's a matter of public record that you were dragged from your home in the middle of the night, and charged with a laundry list of crimes, including several RICO violations."
"You can't use any of that against me," Morgan argued. "You can't prove any of it."
"We don't need to prove it," Olivia said smoothly. "Perception is reality. We all know that. And right now, the perception is that you've been using Morgan Financial to launder cash for some of the most powerful mob families in the world."
"How dare you…"
"I dare," Olivia asserted, cutting him off mid-sentence, "because as of this morning, M-K Financial and its esteemed associates have amassed holdings in Morgan Financial amounting to approximately twenty-four percent of outstanding shares."
A self-satisfied smirk toyed at the corners of Preston's mouth. Even with his board on their side, they didn't have the power to usurp his authority. Stupid fucking women. They were never any good with the numbers. They were only good for one thing: servicing his carnal needs.
He felt his crotch congest, and his cock stiffen at the mere notion of some ravenous bitch's hands or mouth wrapped around his thick tumescence. Later, he thought with a wicked grin, as he shifted in his chair to lessen the discomfort to a more pleasurable level.
And then he turned his attention back to the business at hand. Men could do that, he reminded himself—they could focus on the task at hand, even as the sweet burn of arousal pulsed through their cocks and simmered deep within their balls. They had the ultimate control of their own bodies; unlike women, of course, who were weak, vulnerable, and could be taken by the force of his own sheer will. No, a woman's sole value to him was her ability to mop up his visceral need, in whatever ways he sought to dispel it. But men, they were capable of far greater things. And that was precisely why he had a practice of only ever promoting men into the truly influential roles within his dynasty. The fact that two women sat on his Board of Directors still smarted him, but those had been concessions made to achieve loftier goals. And so the game was played.
Olivia bit back a laugh. "Don't swallow that canary just yet, Morgan," she said. "We've also obtained the signed proxies of another thirty-seven percent of your current stockholders."
She paused a moment for dramatic effect.
The tension in the room escalated, rumblings from around the table confirming Morgan's greatest fear, as several of his board members awkwardly avoided his gaze. He made note of the guilty parties, and released another long puff of cigar smoke, maintaining the air of cool aloofness. But beneath that expensive three piece suit, his heart pounded with the force of the water rushing over Niagara Falls. He cursed beneath his breath, not allowing his lips to move.
And then Olivia's lips formed a satisfied smirk of their own, as she added, "Which means that we now own the majority of your company. "And given the personal… indiscretions… that have recently come to light, I'm quite certain we'll find even more of them ready to abandon ship, post haste."
Unwittingly, he, and the Feds, had played right into their hands. Who was she to argue with such a gift?
"Exactly," Lena said with confidence as she stepped in again.
Setting a sleek black leather briefcase on the podium, she flipped the latches, and lifted the top. Reaching inside, she pulled the paperwork necessary to prove their authority, and set it on the well-polished surface of the heavy cherry wood lectern.
The wood felt cool and smooth beneath her hands as she slid them up toward the top, curling her fingers around the front edge. "And given the authority we now hold, on behalf of those who have entrusted us with their proxy, we call for an immediate vote."
"A vote for what?" Morgan harrumphed. He sounded both annoyed and bored, but he knew damned well what was about to happen. These stupid bitches were about to steal away the company he had slaved to build.
"For a new President, CEO, CFO, and any other office we damned well please," Olivia snarled. She glanced at the transcriptionist who was hurriedly typing away in the corner, and gave a slow, satisfied smile. "And you can quote me on that," she said pointedly.
The woman suppressed a smirk, and continued to type.
Olivia and Lena switched off then, taking turns presenting all of their concerns regarding the stability of Morgan Financial. Breaking down the risks of continuing along the path that Preston Morgan had chosen for the company, the two women watched as the grim news finally penetrated the staunch resolve of those board members who had held out on them in the preliminary bid for proxies. It was like watching the blindfolds being stripped away in the midst of a horrific train wreck. But as painful as it clearly was, the members of the board remained focused, listening intently to the analysis of the company's current state of financial ruin.
Numerous times, Morgan made his displeasure known. And each time, Olivia and Lena skillfully put an end to his bellyaching. But he protested one too many times to suit Olivia's taste, and when he did, she put him in his place once and for all.
"What's the matter, Morgan," she said with a tormenting hiss. "Afraid you'll be shown up by a couple of women? I know you loathe us all. Even the ones you bed."
The expression on his face was sheer smugness. And bed them, he had. He was quite proud of his conquests—even the ones he had bought.
"Which, by the way," Olivia continued, "you might want to think twice about now, because those women have absolutely nothing to lose by telling your precious wife all about you, now that you're about to be virtually penniless, and completely powerless."
Morgan snarled at her, and muttered about having better things to do with his time than sit around being used for target practice by a couple of man-hating bull-dykes.
Olivia laughed in response. Neither of them would ever fit such a description. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But she let him have his moment. He was harmless now that he'd been stripped of any illusion of power or control, and she had no doubt he would be spending the vast majority of his golden years in a federal prison. The fact that he had somehow managed to get out of jail in less than twelve hours, had simply been a fluke—of that, she was certain.
And with that certitude as her impetus, she stifled a smirk of sheer satisfaction, as she skillfully turned the tables on him.
Capturing the attention of his board members with a dazzling display of their business acumen, she and Lena meticulously outlined both short-term and long-term recommendations to bring the company back from the verge of bankruptcy, and move it back into the top five financial services corporations in the world. To say that their strategy wowed the board would have been an understatement. No stone had been left unturned—including a plan on how to spin the charges against Morgan into a positive for the company, regardless of the outcome of his trial. They'd had to be quick on their feet to throw that together, but it was brilliant, and the board overwhelmingly pledged their support.
Two hours later, having run through number of permutations before settling on their final plan of action, the votes were cast, and new leadership had been appointed for the struggling conglomerate. There were several strong contenders amongst those nominated, and in the end Olivia and Lena were more than pleased with the final selections. The new President, CEO, and CFO were all rock-solid individuals—two of them former classmates from Oxford, and all with proven track records in rebuilding financially-strapped corporations and turning them into the darlings of Wall Street. And most importantly, Lena and Olivia knew they could be trusted implicitly.
Morgan sat there, chain-smoking cigars, and daring anyone to challenge his right to do so. His mind fluctuated between barely-restrained infuriation and sheer bewilderment, as he listened to the lot of them, tearing apart the company he had built. Who the fuck did they think they were, that they would presume to know what was best for his empire, he seethed internally. He would make them pay, he vowed. Every last fucking one of them.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Consultation Room, Springfield Courthouse—4:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"So that's it," Tracy Jackson said, the question lingering in her tone, as she cast a sideways glance at her fiancée, Jen, who gently squeezed her hand in support. "I can go home now, be with my family." The past forty-eight hours had been emotionally grueling, and all she wanted was to be at home with Jen and their boys.
Danika Kováč offered a genuine smile. "Absolutely," she affirmed with a nod. "The charges were dropped before the courts even opened this morning. The clerk was just waiting for the paperwork from me, and I turned it in on my way to meet you. You're free to go home. And given Judge Thomas's ruling earlier today, I doubt you'll ever need worry about Morgan's threats again."
A deep sigh of relief tumbled from Tracy's lips, as she threw herself into Jen's waiting arms. "Oh, God, I've missed being with you," she murmured against the warmth of Jen's skin. "I can't wait to get you home."
Nodding in agreement, Jen took Tracy's face in her hands, whispering softly of her love as she gazed into those expressive brown eyes. And then her mouth was on Tracy's, kissing her deeply, as she pulled her impossibly closer. Her arms wrapped tightly around her fiancée, Jen held her possessively, as the tears began to fall amidst their kiss. "No one will ever separate us again," she breathed in promise. "No one."
A sharp surge of jealousy, tinged with a deep rift of sadness, stabbed at Dani's heart as she watched the two of them together. She missed being with Langston. She missed holding her. Hell, she missed just being near her. Last night had brought back so many memories, reignited that sense of longing she had tried so very hard to extinguish. And now, as she witnessed these two lovers reuniting after having been torn apart by no fault of their own, her heart ached with loneliness.
The moments ticked by without her realizing, and then she was jolted from her thoughts by Tracy, who had reached over, giving her an impulsive hug. "Thank you," Tracy was saying, her voice brimming with gratitude. "Thank you for everything."
Slightly taken aback by the gesture, nonetheless, Dani returned Tracy's heartfelt hug. "You're very welcome," she said warmly. "But I think you have your friends to thank, far more than me," she admitted.
Releasing her attorney, Tracy leaned back, meeting Dani's dark, expressive eyes. "You believed me," she said straightforwardly. "You truly believed I was innocent, without even knowing me. And you went out on a limb for me with the detective last night. That matters to me."
Nodding, Dani's smiled softly. "You made it easy to believe in you," she said simply. "I wish that was the case with all of my clients."
Jen smiled faintly. "I can well imagine." And then she reached out her hand to shake Dani's. "Thank you again," she said sincerely.
"Of course," Dani replied. She paused for a moment, and then added. "It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Jen. I'm just sorry the circumstances were so difficult."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, as well, Dani," Jen said warmly. "It's nice to put a face to the stories after all these years."
"Indeed," Dani easily agreed.
"Hey, now that our business is concluded, would you like to join us this evening?" Tracy asked. "We're having dinner with Olivia and Natalia and a few other friends. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."
The genuine warmth in Tracy's invitation somehow soothed the ache in Dani's heart, and she was surprised to find herself accepting. It wasn't like her to socialize with clients, whether past or present. But something inside her said it was the right thing to do. And so she smiled, and nodded, and asked Tracy to text her with the details.
They exchanged a few more words, and then Tracy reached for Jen's hand, their fingers entwining. Bidding Dani goodbye for the time being, they turned toward the door. The smile remained on Dani's face as she watched them walk away. But a strange sadness fell over her, settling into the deepest recesses of her soul.
Snapping the latches on her sleek Italian leather briefcase, Dani released a long, weary sigh. Having just finalized the paperwork that would close the case against her client, Tracy Jackson, she should have been in far better spirits—after all, she had been successful in her quest to get her client exonerated of all charges. But the mere notion of feeling anything other than melancholy was completely unfathomable to her. Closing the case, regardless of the outcome, meant she had no more excuses for staying in Springfield. And the truth was, she didn't want to leave.
From the moment of her first awakening, she had struggled with a gnawing sense of disquiet, the source of which she had been unable to identify. Until the moment that, of course, when she realized it was all coming to an end. Then it all made sense. The low hum of arousal, that dull ache that settled deep in her belly—a result of the dream that had held her captive throughout the night—had lingered with her throughout the day, accompanying, perhaps even competing with that underlying sense of disquiet in knowing that by day's end, she would no longer have any reason to simply bump into Langston.
"Langston…" she murmured softly, as she sank back down into the padded, straight-back chair. She was angry with the woman for that impervious stubborn streak. God, how Langston's pigheadedness infuriated her! But when she took a step back, she had to admit that she was also angry with herself for the choices she had made in the wake of one of the greatest losses of her own life. And most of all, she realized how desperately lonely she was for the one person in the world who understood her pain completely. Langston…
Blowing out a slow breath, she leaned forward, and propping her elbows on the table, she clasped her hands together, allowing her forehead to rest against her fist. Anyone who didn't know better would have sworn she was praying. But Danika Kováč had stopped praying, stopped even believing in any sort of higher power, on a cold December night when she was just barely eight years old—the night she watched in horror as her father's men unceremoniously dumped her mother's lifeless body into the cold, hard ground. Aside from Danika, her father and his men, only two other people in the world ever knew what had become of Alaina Kováč—Langston Malloy, and her mother, Carrigan. And of those who knew anything at all, only Carrigan McKenna Malloy and Daněk Kováč knew the entire truth.
Oh, Mama, Dani's heart cried out, even as she stifled the hot tears that threatened. How I wish you were here! How I wish I could ask you what I should do, how I should go about gaining her trust again.
But she couldn't ask.
Just like she couldn't ask about those first confusing feelings, those strange tingling sensations that suffused her body, that ache that burned deep in her soul, every time she set eyes on Langston, every time she touched her, or even felt her near. She couldn't ask her mother. Nor could she even ask Carrie, who had been like a second mother to her from the moment she was born. No, those days were dead now, buried in a tomb of heartache and regret. And now, all she had left were memories…
Uninvited, sobering reality set in, and instinctively, she sought escape from the profound sense of aloneness that often engulfed her in moments of great weakness. Caving to the powerful allure of those memories, she allowed them to take her back to a time when life held such meaning, such promise… when Langston loved, rather than loathed her. A time when she believed in the possibilities the future held, and all had felt right in her world...
Saturday, May 14, 1994… the Cabana, Langston Malloy's Childhood Home—9:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Langston McKenna Malloy whipped her sleek, granite-gray motorcycle helmet from her head, carelessly shaking out her mop of shaggy dark hair. It fell loosely around her face, its softness framing those angular edges in the candlelight that glowed all around her. Slowly, blue eyes followed the path of lambent lights, scanning the perimeter of her bedroom. There were scented candles everywhere, filling the room with the sweet aroma of sunshine and wildflowers, as they illuminated the room in a soft, iridescent glow.
And then her gaze fell upon the creator of her impromptu welcome home, and her breath caught in her chest. The sight of Dani in her bed, strategically-placed Egyptian cotton sheets barely covering her nakedness, drew the breath from her body, causing it to tremble, both inside and out, as it flushed with the heat of desire.
The flickering candlelight kissed the soft edges of Dani's body, painting smooth, olive skin in an ethereal glow. Her long, dark tresses cascaded over her shoulders, reaching just far enough to tantalize where the tips barely concealed dark nipples set perfectly on firm, high breasts, as Dani lowered the sheet, a look of sheer seduction playing across her beautiful face. It was an invitation she had no intention of refusing.
Mesmerized by the sight of her, Langston unceremoniously dropped the helmet to the floor. It slipped through her fingers without notice, and the loud thud it made upon impact against the polished hardwood floor didn't seem to faze her in the least, so lost was she in the beauty before her, and the promise evoked by the mere presence of this woman in her bed. Drawing in her bottom lip, she slowly released it, as she struggled to form words. She had fully expected to find Dani in the cabana tonight. But she hadn't expected to find her like… this.
Not that she was complaining!
Slowly, Dani's eyes traced the curves and edges of Langston's body as she stood there, motionless, flummoxed almost. Dressed entirely in black, she looked every bit the rebel in that smooth Italian leather jacket, and those heavy motorcycle boots that jangled when she walked—and every bit the sensuous woman, the way that jacket, jeans and t-shirt hugged her alluring feminine curves. Her body was hard with muscle mass, yet soft and yielding in the most surprising ways, and Dani couldn't wait to feel that contradiction against her own body.
She remembered how loosely that jacket had fit when she first gave it to Langston as a gift before they left for college. As her eyes traced its edges, she noted how it was beginning to show some wear after four harsh northeastern winters spent at Princeton. And now, here they were—college graduates, the two of them, and Langston's body, so firm, yet so pliable, was finally filling it out in all the right places. She could hardly believe how quickly… and yet, how slowly… the years had passed.
They were both home for the summer, but Dani would be leaving again in just a few short months, returning to Harvard to begin law school. And Langston would stay behind in Chicago, where she had been accepted to the police academy in the fall, much to her father's chagrin. Dani had every intention of making the most of every single moment they had together, starting tonight. Law school was going to be a very long three years.
"How was your ride, Lieutenant?" Dani asked, her voice a low murmur. She knew that Langston had been out on the custom Harley she'd owned since her rebellious teen years, attempting to slay the demons that had reared their ugly heads after yet another confrontation with her father.
"You know I hate it when you call me that," Langston reminded, in a tone that spoke otherwise. Dani was the only person she didn't mind hearing that from, and only because it was a term of endearment, more than it was a title, as it slipped from those soft, perfect lips.
Unzipping her jacket, she gruffly shrugged it from her shoulders, and folded it in half, tossing it gingerly across the arm of the chair in the corner of her room. It landed with a soft thud.
"Your rank is what it is," Dani pointed out unnecessarily. "Can't fight it, you know."
Her rank in the organization was something she hated to acknowledge, and thus, Langston said nothing in response. Instead, she methodically bent her knees, first the right, then the left, balancing herself on the opposite leg with practiced ease as she unzipped her worn leather boots. Stripping them off along with her socks, she allowed them to drop to the floor in a duet of loud thumps. And then, on bare feet, she pivoted around, turning her attention fully upon the vision in her bed.
"Hmm…" she finally said, sounding almost contemplative, as she stripped the black t-shirt from her torso, revealing her bare breasts to Dani's expectant gaze. Noting the flash of unabashed want in those smoldering dark eyes, she grinned, as she simultaneously tossed the t-shirt across the room, landing it directly in the clothes hamper in the far corner, without so much as a glance in its direction. "And yet, I have."
She sounded so confident, so unwaveringly certain, that for the first time, Dani actually believed it was possible. "You make me believe in miracles," she said quietly.
"I can't change the fact that I have his blood in me," Langston acknowledged without rancor. "But that doesn't mean I have to embrace his ways," she declared, as she unsnapped her button-fly jeans. Deep in her soul, she held such regrets for the things she had done at his bequest, and now she ached for freedom, not only from his way of life, but from the pain of her past deeds. She hoped that becoming a cop—a good guy—she could somehow make up for all the harm she had done.
Pushing the heaviness of her thoughts aside, she focused again on Dani. Earth met sky, their gazes locking, as slowly, she pushed her jeans down over her shapely hips, revealing smooth, toned thighs. "Not anymore, anyway," she said, decidedly.
Tearing away from Langston's intense gaze, Dani practically salivated at the sight of Langston's body, her heart warring between responding to the pain in Langston's voice and answering the call of her own body's need. It was difficult to believe it had only been twelve hours since she'd last tasted the heady salty-sweetness of her, and she couldn't wait to taste her all over again! She felt her vulva congest with wet heat at the very thought of it, and then her clitoris swelled, stiffening, as the incessant pounding at the apex of her thighs heightened almost to the point of pain.
Seemingly oblivious to the reaction she was causing in her lover, Langston methodically folded the jeans, draping them neatly across the back of a chair, her gaze never leaving Dani's face. She watched intently, drawn by the shifting tides of arousal that reflected like the shimmering light of the moon the sea, as they rippled across her visage.
Equally mesmerized, Dani couldn't take her eyes from Langston, from her painstakingly sculpted body. Every movement was precise, deliberate. She oozed power from her very pores, those tight muscles rippling with every gesture, every breath. Watching her drove Dani wild with desire, and she had no intention of ever allowing it to be tamed.
Aware of Dani's intense appraisal, and wildly aroused by it, Langston turned toward her again, her blue eyes nearly purple with barely-constrained arousal. Crossing the room, her hips swayed almost hypnotically, as she made her way toward the bed, clad in only a pair of soft, black cotton boxer-briefs. "I may be a Lieutenant again someday, but never in his employ."
"You'll always be my Lieutenant," Dani said, her soft purr declaring ownership of the other woman. "Now come here and kiss me before I explode from wanting you."
A soft smile cracked Langston's lips, warming those usually cool, chiseled features, as an eyebrow arched. "You're looking at me like that, and all you want is a kiss?" Her playful tone said she was doubtful.
"Oh, I want far more than that," Dani admitted. "But it all starts with a kiss."
Langston glanced down, her gaze falling on plump, erect nipples, peeking out from beneath those long, flowing tresses. "Looks to me like it's already started," she teased.
Her knee making contact with the mattress, she slowly crawled toward Dani, approaching her like a tigress on the hunt. Her eyes still wild with want, her body pulsed in anticipation, thrums of white-hot need coursing through her veins like molten lava. A long ride on her bike always caused at least a hint of arousal to surface, that powerful engine vibrating between her legs. But nothing compared to the ache she was feeling right now, as she moved ever closer to the source. It had always astonished her, the way her body responded to Dani, ached for her. Just the mere hint of her, the sight, that faint, familiar aroma of her, never ceased to bring Langston's body to readiness. It had been that way as long as she could remember, and she couldn't imagine that it would ever change.
Lightly, Dani drew her bottom lip between her teeth, a slow smile emerging as she released it. "You noticed that, huh?"
"Oh, I've noticed a lot of things since I walked into this room," Langston husked, as she straddled Dani's thighs, settling in her lap. Bending down, her warm mouth skated across a taut nipple.
Groaning softly at the contact, Dani shivered in response to her mounting arousal. "Oh, have you?"
"Mm-hmm..." Langston murmured softly. Confident hands slowly caressed Dani's sides, trailing from the smooth edges of her hips all the way to the soft curves of her breasts. And then she gently cupped them in her hands. "It's almost as if you're trying to seduce me," she said, her voice low and sultry as her fingertips danced over tender flesh.
Lightly Langston's thumbs raked across aroused nipples, and Dani gasped in response. "Now what would make you think that?" she asked. A seductive grin teased at the corners of her mouth, directly contrasting the coquettish lilt to her voice, as she scooted back on the bed.
Wordlessly, Langston followed, as if some ethereal force was drawing her near. And holding her own body up by the strength of her arms, she hovered over Dani, the mere presence of Langston's powerful body causing Dani to recline onto the pillows; willingly submitting to her.
"Oh, you mean other than the fact that you're naked in my bed, looking sexy enough to eat?" Langston seductively queried, as she swept aside the sheet, revealing the splendor of Dani's naked flesh to her loving gaze. Her own body trembled, heat rising, at the mere thought of touching such beauty.
"Yes," Dani purred, her body flushing with want beneath the desire-laden glint in Langston's darkening gaze. Those eyes that were nearly always a reflection of the clear blue skies on a warm day at the beach were now dark like midnight, and swirling with anticipation.
"Well," Langston said, as she parted Dani's thighs with the barely perceptible touch of her hand. Tenderly, her fingertips glided along firm inner thighs, stopping just shy of brushing that tempting triangle of thick, wet curls at the base of Dani's belly. "It's clear that you're already wet and ready for me."
"You can tell that, huh?"
"Oh, yes," Langston said confidently. "I have a very keen sense of smell—especially when it comes to you." Stealthily, she slid her hips between Dani's legs, their centers meeting but for the thin layer of the cotton briefs Langston still wore.
"Oh, you do, do you?" Dani husked, as she willingly spread her legs, welcoming Langston's heat against her own. She could feel how hard Langston was for her, how ready, and the subtle abrasiveness of Langston's cotton briefs against her own tender flesh only served to heighten their mutual pleasure, as Langston rocked against her.
"Uh-huh," Langston barely managed, so enticing was that sweet friction between their bodies.
Bracing her hands against the mattress at Dani's sides, so that their bodies did not yet fully touch, she slid her tongue along the smooth contour of Dani's long neck. "I always know when you want me," she husked against Dani's ear before lightly biting her lobe.
Dani groaned, and arched an eyebrow in challenge. "That's hardly a skill, my love."
"No?" Langston pushed back.
"Unh-uh," Dani muttered, shaking her head. "Every time I think about you, I want you," she confessed. "And the mere sight of you makes me hard and… wet."
Langston grinned mischievously. "That's good information to have."
"As if you didn't already know," Dani laughed.
"I had my inklings," Langston admitted, her tone teasing, as she lowered her upper body, their breasts and bellies finally making full contact.
"God, you feel good," Dani growled, as the toned muscles and soft plains and valleys of Langston's body melded with her own. When Langston's hips rocked against her again, a low groan fell from her lips, and she wrapped her legs around Langston's thighs, pulling her closer.
Despite the cotton barrier, Langston felt the undeniable wet heat of Dani's arousal against her, and she grew infinitely harder. "Not half as good as you feel," she groaned, as she thrust her center against Dani's again.
"Jesus, Lang, I really need you to fuck me right now," Dani stated brazenly. "But you still haven't even kissed me yet," she added, her tone nearly a pout.
A soft laugh dripped from Langston's lips, like honey from a warming pot, and Dani wanted nothing more than to taste them. But Langston seemed intent upon tormenting her. "All in good time, love," Langston said breezily. Lowering her head, she took Dani's left breast into her mouth, her tongue skillfully swirling around a taut nipple.
Dani groaned out her pleasure, and Langston began a slow, achingly tantalizing suckling. She lingered there until Dani whimpered softly, and then she turned her attention to the other breast, lavishing it with equal attention. And when finally, Dani again begged for her kisses, Langston didn't make her wait any longer. Shifting her body upward, she lowered her mouth to Dani's, willingly fulfilling her lover's wish. Dani moaned softly—or maybe it was Langston, as urgently, fingers tangled in her thick, dark waves.
They kissed for a long time—Langston's hands and tongue slowly stroking, exploring, fanning the flames of desire; Dani giving back in equal measure. And as they kissed, they whispered to one another, words of love, of devotion, of desire that slowly built into a raging inferno of urgent need that demanded satisfaction. Each time Langston increased the intensity, Dani met her there, willingly rising with her to the next plateau until at long last she was begging to be taken.
No longer willing to deny her, Langston rolled to her side, pulling Dani with her. And finally, lying face to face, heads nestled against the same pillow, their bodies entangled at every possible juncture, Langston slipped her hand between Dani's legs, gently parting her most tender flesh. As much as Dani needed her, Langston needed Dani more. She needed to feel Dani's body, always so responsive to her touch. She needed to hear her cries of pleasure, her urgent pleas for more—always, always more. She needed to feel worthy, to feel whole, and Dani was the only one who ever made her feel that way.
A low groan fell from Dani's lips at the moment of first contact. And then she sighed softly, as slowly, Langston began to love her. Langston took her time, gentle fingertips gliding through those warm, wet folds, swirling against swollen flesh that begged for her attention. Teasing just beneath the tip of Dani's engorged clitoris, Langston brought her skillfully to the edge, before slipping away to tease at her entrance. She lingered there, her two middle fingers caressing, as she slowly slipped them inside, one achingly arousing millimeter at a time, until finally, she filled her completely.
Hips jerking toward her, Dani groaned out her pleasure, her body latching on to Langston's fingers, drawing her impossibly deeper. Captivated, Langston luxuriated for a moment in the exquisite pleasure of Dani's tightness encapsulating her. Though she had inhabited her this way more times than she could count, somehow, this time it felt different, more intimate.
Their eyes met, holding, and in that moment, Dani found that she couldn't get close enough to Langston. Wrapping her arms around Langston's body, she pulled herself flush up against her, and Langston responded by drawing her near with her free hand, even as the other lingered deep within her. And then the slow thrusting began, taking her ever deeper into Dani's warm, wet depths, as her thumb gently worked Dani's engorged clitoris into a quivering mass of need. And finally, with Dani teetering on the brink once again, Langston whispered to her, telling her how beautiful she was, and how very much she loved her. And then she returned to Dani's soft mouth, kissing her deeply, her fingertips stroking in perfect rhythm with her tongue, as she brought her to shattering climax.
Dani's cries of pleasure, her passionate declarations of love, were like a balm to Langston's soul. And as Dani's body continued to shudder in the reverberation of their lovemaking, Langston drew her infinitely closer, holding her protectively until her breath returned, and her body relaxed. And then she kissed the sweat-dampened tendrils of dark hair at Dani's temple, and nuzzled against her neck, as her fingertips played over the supple skin of her belly, and the smooth curve of her hip.
"I'm sorry I stormed out on you earlier," Langston whispered against Dani's neck. Lightly, her lips brushed against the warm skin she found there. She felt like an ass for taking her anger out on someone she loved, and she needed to know that she had been forgiven.
"You don't need to be sorry, Lang," Dani quietly soothed. She knew that Langston's anger hadn't been directed toward her—but rather, toward him. And there was little she could do but accept that things would always be volatile where he was concerned. "I understand your need for space, and I'm fine, love," she declared, "as long as you come back home."
"I'll always come home to you, Dani," Langston replied, her voice full of promise. And then she kissed her tenderly. "Always…"
Friday, June 19, 2009… Consultation Room, Springfield Courthouse—4:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Twelve years later, Dani had staked her future on that promise, and she found herself completely alone in the world. It had been a bitter lesson to learn, but like so many others, she learned it well. A part of her had wanted to be angry, but in the end, she knew she had only herself to blame. That truth was still a hard pill to swallow, but really, there was no other choice. Langston had walked away from her—and rightly so. If the tables had been turned, she didn't know that she could've made any other choice herself, so how could she expect anything else in return?
And so she had moved forward in her life, hoping for an opportunity to set things right with Langston, while grudgingly accepting that day might never come. If the past two days were any indication, she was afraid her worst fears had been justified. With a sadness of heart and that ever-present profound sense of aloneness engulfing her once again, she stood from her chair, lifted her briefcase from the rickety old table, and turned toward the door. She would have dinner with Jen and Tracy and their friends, and then she would leave for Chicago, consequences be damned, leaving the hope of reconciliation with Langston behind forever.
Yes, that's what she would do.
Friday, June 19, 2009… the Farmhouse of Love—4:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"So why aren't you at the board meeting with Lena and Olivia?" Bianca asked, continuing their casual conversation as she wiped the kitchen counter down with a clean gingham towel, clearing the remnants of their labors. They had been discussing the ins-and-outs, such as they understood them, of the deal their partners put together, as they worked side-by-side in the farmhouse kitchen.
Over the past two hours, many topics had been perused, all while green bananas and green plantain, yautía and calabasa—or taro root and tropical pumpkin, as they were called in English—and russet potatoes had all been peeled and chopped, and grated by hand to create masa, or dough. Onions, peppers, fresh garlic, and cilantro had also been chopped, and pork shoulder and ham had been sautéed, and now the mixture sat cooling on the countertop nearby, adding the most pleasurable aroma to the room—all in preparation for the pasteles they were making to celebrate Rafe's birthday. And now they were just about ready to begin assembly of the soft, dough-like delicacies. "If you don't mind my asking," she added as an afterthought.
"I could ask the same of you, you know," Natalia countered with a teasing smile. "And of course I don't mind you asking," she added, wiping her hands on the new apron Olivia bought her the weekend before. It had a picture of the sweetest little sleeping baby on it, and it said, "Caution: One Hot Little Mama with a Sweet Bun in the Oven." It was silly, but Natalia wore it with pride.
"Lena is the business woman in this family," Bianca answered with a shrug. She tossed the towel aside, and picked up the chopping knife she had been using, carrying it to the sink. Rinsing it off, she set it gingerly on the dish drainer, and turned back toward her friend.
"Same with Olivia in our family," Natalia replied.
"Yes, but you work with Olivia," Bianca said, as she leaned a hip against the counter. "I'm just surprised that, as her assistant, you aren't involved with something this important."
"She asked me to attend," Natalia confessed. "But this is more her thing, than mine. Besides, Rafe's birthday dinner is more important to me." Pasteles were a lot of work, but they were a Puerto Rican holiday tradition—and Rafe's birthday had always been the most special holiday of the year for Natalia. It was the one day a year that Natalia always splurged to make special meals.
"I can understand that," Bianca granted. She was quiet for a moment, and then she asked, "So… what is your thing?" she asked, crossing her arms, and regarding Natalia with keen interest. She was curious about the other woman, and wanted to know her better.
"I don't really know," Natalia answered with a shrug. "I love working with Olivia. That much I do know. And I love the satisfaction I get from doing a good job."
"But…?" Bianca prodded.
"Oh, no 'buts'," Natalia said with confidence. Her expression turned contemplative for a few moments, before she added, "Maybe an 'and,' though…"
"Okay," Bianca grinned. "And…?"
"And I guess I'd like to learn about how to do an even better job," Natalia answered. "I have so many ideas, but I don't know the first thing about how to develop them."
"Any ideas about how to learn?" Bianca asked. "Obviously, Olivia's already pleased with your performance."
Natalia's face flushed from the tangent her thoughts took after that comment, and she prayed Bianca didn't notice. "Yes, I suppose she is," she said, struggling to keep a straight face. "She did make me a full partner in BGRC." Her mouth twisted and dark eyes clouded with concern. "I still struggle with that," she confessed.
"Because…?" Bianca prompted.
An eyebrow arched. "Do you always prod people with one-word comments that ask questions without really asking questions?" Natalia queried. But the grin that tickled at the corners of her mouth belied the sternness of her tone.
Bianca laughed. "Sorry," she shrugged guiltily. "Tool of the trade."
"I guess I can let it slide then, Doc," Natalia granted, an affectionate lilt to her voice, as she addressed Bianca by the nickname she had chosen for her not long after they met.
Bianca smiled softly at the term of endearment, and refrained from reminding Natalia that she wasn't yet a doctor, but merely a Ph.D. candidate.
Releasing a slow sigh, Natalia contemplated Bianca's question. "I struggle because… she seems to have so much faith in me, but I don't have any of the education she and Lena have… So how can she believe I have what it takes to make good decisions for this company?"
"She sees your potential," Bianca answered simply.
"Raw potential, perhaps," Natalia granted.
"You could hone it, you know," Bianca pressed.
Chuckling, Natalia shook her head. "Are you on some sort of recruitment board for college life?"
Laughing, Bianca shrugged noncommittally, "Perhaps."
"Maybe you should talk with Rafe," Natalia grinned.
"I'm looking forward to it," Bianca playfully countered.
Natalia's face twisted into a quizzical expression, as her thoughts returned to the notion of attending college. "When would I have time?" she asked rhetorically, as she gestured toward her expanding belly. "Obviously, I've not gotten any less pregnant since the last time we talked about this," she said drolly.
Bianca grinned at the amusement that twinkled in Natalia's eyes. "You just have to make it," she answered nonchalantly. "Speaking of…" she said, switching gears as she set the bowls of ingredients on the table where they planned to assemble the pasteles, "how's the pregnancy treating you?"
"So far, so good," Natalia answered with a soft smile. "Harder than with Rafe, though," she added. And then her expression turned contemplative, as she stirred the filling—the la carne—to expose any pockets that might be retaining too much heat. "But then again, I am twenty years older, and… this time I actually know I'm pregnant."
Her tone held a teasing lilt, and Bianca chuckled lightly. "I guess that would make a difference," she granted. "Morning sickness any better?"
"Tons," Natalia answered on a sigh of relief, as she set the skillet on the hot-pad Bianca had placed on the table, and sank down into her chair. She was grateful to have an excuse to be off of her feet. They were swollen, like two giant sausages—and she was barely more than halfway through her pregnancy!
"Makes all the difference in the world, doesn't it?" Bianca asked knowingly. She settled into the chair across from Natalia, watching the preparations.
"Sure does," Natalia agreed. "I'll never understand why they call it morning sickness, when it lasts all day long," she commented, as she flattened a piece of parchment paper on the table, and centered a banana leaf over it. "I'm just glad it's over. Olivia was driving me crazy with all the fussing she was doing over me."
"Sounds to me like she was giving back a little of what she received after her surgery," Bianca commended mildly.
Natalia offered a wry smile in response, and brushed the top side of the banana leaf with achiote—a culinary spice extracted from the seeds of the evergreen tree. "Touché, Doc," she granted with a wry grin. "Not that she isn't still fussing, mind you," she added; "but at least I'm not nauseated while she's hovering. That's about the least sexy thing I can think of for her to see."
A hearty laugh fell from Bianca's lips. "Oh, believe me, there are far less sexy things for her to witness once the baby comes."
Natalia held up a hand, halting any further comment. "I can't even go there." She remembered what her body was like after Rafe was born. It wasn't something she'd ever planned to experience again—let alone, allow a partner to witness.
Bianca simply laughed again.
"How has Lena been?" Natalia asked, quickly changing the subject.
"She's been great," Bianca answered enthusiastically. Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her hand, as she watched as Natalia scooped up a half-cup of the masa, and placed it in the middle of the banana leaf, spreading it evenly over the leaf, leaving a one-inch border around the edges. "Pregnancy definitely agrees with her. Flawless, glowing skin, no morning sickness, no bloated anything. It's quite disgusting, really," she added, remembering how she sometimes felt during pregnancy.
Her dry, teasing tone made Natalia laugh, even as skilled hands placed three generous dabs of the la carne in the center of the masa. "She really is quite beautiful," she commented.
Bianca's smile could have illuminated the entire room. "Thank you," she said proudly. She couldn't have agreed more, and she was so proud to be known as Lena's wife. "And it doesn't hurt that she's horny as hell," she added roguishly.
"Oh, my God, can I relate!" Natalia exclaimed. "Olivia would never admit this, but I think I'm wearing her out," she laughed, surprised by her own admission. Unable to believe she had actually said that aloud, she was grateful for the warmth of the kitchen to hide the flush she felt spreading across her face. It still shocked her a little, how open she had become about sex in such a short period of time.
"Something tells me she doesn't mind," Bianca replied with an impish grin.
Natalia felt her face flush even deeper. "I hope you're right," she said, "because it seems to be growing more urgent with each passing day."
Bianca laughed knowingly. "It was the same for me," she shared.
"Can I tell you something?" Natalia asked, clandestinely.
"Anything," Bianca replied.
"I'm even dreaming about sex," Natalia admitted, her voice a hushed whisper. "Like, constantly."
"Same here," Bianca related.
"Really?"
"It's completely normal," Bianca said reassuringly.
"It's getting to the point where I can't tell whether the dreams are more vivid after we have sex, or on days when we don't," Natalia confessed. "All I know is that they're getting more and more erotic by the day, or… night," she blushed.
"What does Olivia say about them?" Natalia asked curiously.
"I couldn't actually tell her the details," Natalia said, her dark eyes wide with surprise at Bianca's presumption.
"Oh, but you should!" Bianca exclaimed, a roguish grin on her face.
"That's far too embarrassing," Natalia said dismissively. "I don't even know where some of these ideas are coming from! I mean… it's not like I've ever tried them with anyone before. What if she thinks I'm a freak?" It wasn't a real question. Natalia knew Olivia would never think that of her, but the idea of sharing such details was overwhelming to her, despite her recent growth when it came to being open about sex.
"Trust me, any amount of embarrassment would be worth it," Bianca insisted with a grin. "The content of my pregnancy-induced sex dreams led to some of the best sex Lena and I have ever had. And that's nothing compared to what the content of her dreams has done for our sex life."
Arching an inquisitive eyebrow, Natalia leaned forward, and grinned. "Do tell…"
Bianca laughed at the expression on Natalia's face. It was a cross between sheer embarrassment, blatant naughtiness, and rapt curiosity. "Lena would kill me if she knew I was telling you this," she began, although not tentatively, "but… it isn't like I haven't already told my sister Kendall, so…"
And they worked together then, assembling the pasteles, and tying them securely, as Bianca regaled Natalia with endless stories of sex dreams brought to life at the exquisitely skilled hands of her more-than-willing wife.
TBC in Chapter 14.25…