Isabella wasn't sure why she let herself get talked into these things any more. She knew how bad it was going to be about three hours ago when Harcourt asked--no, told her that she was going to dinner with him and whatever trollop he was dragging along.
"I'd ask you to invite someone, but we both know it would be pointless," he said offhandedly before hanging up. Isabella scoffed sourly as his smug contact photo flashed briefly on her cell. The first thing she did, of course, was flip through her contacts to see who she might bring along out of spite. It was a fruitless exercise, however. There wasn't really anyone she could trust to have her side through an entire dinner with Harcourt. He had a way of swaying her friends into being his friends. And, well, once that happened there was no point in keeping them around any more. So she went to dinner, alone.
Dinner itself was lovely. She had an almond crusted salmon over the most fluffy, pearly rice she'd ever tasted. The company, on the other hand, left much to be desired. Harcourt was, well, Harcourt. He'd chosen an extravagantly expensive new restaurant that Isabella knew had to be booked weeks in advance. Knowing her brother, Isabella guessed he'd booked their table weeks ago, and simply brought along whatever flavor of the month he was craving. He would of course have played up the exclusivity of the place, and how difficult it was to get reservations to impress his guest and let her think it was all for her.
Either way, the woman seemed quite star-struck. She recognized her as Harcourt's new secretary, Tessa. She was a pretty, lithe thing with doe eyes and a nice smile. She was young, as well, too young to have experience yet with high-power CEOs and why they might invite out the secretary to an expensive dinner. Or just young enough, Isabella thought with a sour turn of her stomach. Still, in their brief interactions, Isabella could see that she was competent and not without merit. It was too bad that her career was in Harcourt's hands.
"Rice, Isabella? I thought we were cutting out carbs," Harcourt said around the steak he'd sent back twice for supposedly being incorrectly cooked. He'd hardly cut into the first one when it arrived at the table before insisting it was overcooked. Isabella made a note to slip the server some extra cash. Her brother always did this, especially in front of his strumpets. It was for that reason that Isabella never went to the same restaurant with him twice.
Isabella was used to dodging these little digs at her person, and let his comment go. It wasn't worth it to engage him when he was strutting. As the night wore on, however, he only got more unpleasant.
When Isabella passed on dessert he commented, "It's just as well. You'll be in the gym working off dinner as it is."
He then ordered a ridiculously expensive sundae served with a curl of gold leaf on top so that Tessa could spoon feed it to him. If she hadn't already been sick of him by this time, their display would have made her want to wretch.
"I thought you would be proud of my restraint, Harry," Isabella said sweetly. He hated that nickname, and she'd pay for it later, but it was worth it to watch him bite back a retort. "I've actually gone down a size."
While Harcourt was swallowing his spoonful of expensive vanilla ice cream, Tessa chimed in, "Have you really? You know, I've hit a bit of a plateau. I can't seem to lose another ounce lately."
Isabella smiled gently. Tessa was trim and attractive, hardly in need of slimming down. She opened her mouth to say so, but Harcourt cut in.
"I'm not in the mood for vapid girl-talk," he said tartly. Isabella knew that in actuality he had gone a little soft around the middle lately, and likely the talk of going to the gym and losing weight was making him sensitive. "If you two keep on like this, I'll die of boredom."
He waved over a server that was not theirs and demanded their check. While Isabella was appalled by his manners, as usual, she was at least relieved to be leaving soon. She made a show of looking for lip balm in her purse, and palmed a twenty to tuck discreetly under a glass for the poor waitstaff who'd had to put up with them.
By the time they piled back into the car, Isabella was sick with revulsion. She kept telling herself that it was almost over, that she only had to endure so much more of it. And then Harcourt had the brilliant idea to find a club. Why, Isabella had no idea. He had drunk more than enough at dinner and was already hanging all over Tessa. For her part, the girl kept trying to disentangle from Harcourt, but he was greedy even as a child, a vice that only grew worse with age.
"Harcourt," Isabella said, "It was a lovely dinner but I would like to go home."
"Nonsense," he said. "You ought to have more fun. Come, there's got to be some place to entertain ourselves in this shit hole." Isabella winced. She turned towards the window for something different to look at. They were headed down a narrow street, lit by the orange glow of street lights and the storefronts of what looked to be several dive bars. Isabella scoffed in amusement to herself, and then wished she hadn't.
"What's funny?" Harcourt demanded.
"Look," she said pointing out the window. "You wanted a bar, here are several. It seems we're in luck."
Harcourt looked out the window and scowled. "I said a club, not this trash heap. See, Isabella, this is why you need me to take care of you. A city like this would just eat you up."
"Indeed, what would I do without my dear brother?" Isabella pressed her lips tightly together, afraid she might let slip some fouler retort.
"Roll over and die, most like," Harcourt snickered to Tessa, who cringed apologetically.
Isabella couldn't stand to listen to him any more. She knocked on the glass separating them from the driver, a signal to him to pull over.
"No, don't stop here," Harcourt protested, but the car was already pulling to the shoulder. As soon as it had slowed down enough, Isabella lept from the car, slamming the door behind her. She strode down the sidewalk damning the cold, damp wind and her choice to wear a dress and heels to dinner. The knee-length skirt only made her look taller, but the heels had been a deliberate choice that put her about an inch taller than Harcourt. It was a small victory, but she knew it would make him insane. Now, however, she was debating whether or not it had been worth it. She hadn't planned on abandoning the car in the middle of the night in a part of the city she did not know. Her long legs took her quickly down the street but she could hear Harcourt calling from behind. There was a bar up ahead, the front window was lit with a warm light, and, most of all, it looked cheap and cheery. Exactly the kind of place that Harcould would not like to be seen in. Isabella aimed for the door.
Before she could make it, Harcourt reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, having caught up with her.
Isabella yanked her hand back violently.
"Do not touch me," she hissed.
"Come now, Izzy. Stop being stupid and get back in the car or I'll leave you here."
"Stupid? That's right, stupid Isabella can't even catch a cab home by herself," she retorted, her face flushed with anger.
"Now, Isabella," Harcourt consoled, not even bothering to deny that's what he meant. "Just get back in the car."
"No," she said resolutely. "I think I need a drink after my brisk walk." She turned on her heel and ducked into the bar with the hope that he would give up. It was a thin hope, but she saw no other recourse in her frustration.
The inside was lit with the same dim, warm light as the window promised, and was packed with laughing, chatting patrons. Isabella wound her way over to the far end of the bar where she could watch the door.
It swung open only a few moments later, and Harcourt swept in with the cold wind. He spotted Isabella almost instantly and was halfway down the bar before the bartender brought him up short.
"You look a bit lost, sir. This isn't a place for your kind."
It was only then that Isabella looked around and realized that he was the only man in the place. A few of the women looked up from drinking to snicker. He was very much lost.
Harcourt sneered. "You would end up in a place like this. Never mind, come on. We had best be leaving now." He turned to leave, but stopped when Isabella clearly was not following.
"No. I will find my own way home." Her own defiance was making her insides shake, but Isabella stuck to her spot.
"Don't be so stubborn, just get in the car."
"Are you deaf, man?" A woman peeled away from the crowded bar like a shadow. She was dressed all in dark colors, with heavy boots and a certain swagger that did not invite foolishness. She was slight, but that did not diminish her intimidating demeanor. "The lady said no," she said cooly, around a lit cigar.
"What gutter did you crawl out of?" Harcourt sneered. "This has nothing to do with you." He made to step around the woman, and Isabella stiffened all over. But the woman stepped neatly in front of him, taking the cigar from her lips.
"It looks like you're just not her type. Why don't you turn around and leave, eh?"
"I'm not leaving without her."
"Look," the woman said flatly. "You can leave one of two ways: willingly, or unwillingly. And if I have to put out my cigar to drag your sorry carcass out of here, I'm going to be very cross." She stepped closer to Harcourt as she said this. He was a whole head taller than her, but her hard eyes bore into him, undaunted. "So, what'll it be?"
Harcourt looked down his nose at her and Isabella thought for a moment that he was going to try to overpower her. He looked from the woman to Isabella and rolled his eyes.
"Fine, Izzy. If this is the company you decide to keep then I won't be held responsible for you." His expression turned to one of bored disdain, and he turned to disappear out the door.
Isabella breathed a sigh of relief, and noticed that many of the patrons had been watching. They returned to their drinks and the happy noise of the bar began again.
Isabella's saviour turned around and gave her an appraising look. "Izzy, was it?" she asked.
"Isabella, please. No one calls me that," she said with distaste.
"No one 'cept that git. How's he get away with it?" The woman jerked her thumb in the direction of the door as she took her seat at the bar again.
"He's my brother," Isabella confessed.
"Oh? What an unpleasant toe rag. Still, blood's no reason to take that from anyone."
"I know that." Isabella frowned.
The woman seemed to find this amusing. She snuffed out her cigar, smirking.
"You never gave me your name," Isabella said, mostly to change the subject.
The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she brushed her dark hair away from her face and looked Isabella up and down for a long moment. "My name is Nancy," she said finally, her hard eyes lingering over Isabella's. The direct attention made her want to squirm, but she resisted the temptation.
"Thank you for that," Isabella said. "I thought I'd never get rid of him."
"Maybe you ought to have tried a lesbian bar sooner, hm?" Nancy grinned.
Isabella looked around and allowed herself a laugh. "If only it were that easy," she said lightly, intending to brush the comment aside, but Nancy kept looking at her. Could it really be that easy? Isabella hadn't exactly come out with it, but she was sure that Harcourt either knew or guessed at her inclination. Still, she had wanted to keep this part of herself to herself for a while longer. So little belonged to only her that she was still unwilling to give it up. But the thought of owning it openly. Well, it would just tear him to pieces.
The idea had merit.
"Come on then, sit down with me," Nancy said, patting the empty seat beside her. "Drink with me." It wasn't a question. Nancy was already waving the bartender over to order a couple of glasses of gin.
Isabella had never had gin before. Then again, she had also never been into a lesbian bar, but here she was, being invited to drink by a handsome stranger. It occurred to her that she didn't have to stay. She could walk out the door right then. Harcourt would already have been gone, his attention turned back to that poor girl still suffering his presence. She could hail a cab and go home and forget this night ever happened. And yet, she didn't. Nor did she want to. And, after all, shouldn't her choices be her own for once?
Isabella sat down next to Nancy and took her drink with a small "thank you". She sipped it gingerly and wrinkled her nose at the taste. Nancy laughed. It was a rough, abrupt sound, but not unkind, and Isabella found she would like to hear more of it.
"So how did it come to pass that my saviour was right here, in the right place at the right time?" Isabella asked for want of a place to start.
"Me? An old friend runs the place. Sometimes I do security for her."
"Should you be drinking on the job?"
"Hah. Tonight, I'm just here for my own sake. You're very lucky, I gave up a thrilling engagement with my couch and Netflix to be here."
Isabella laughed and felt suddenly at ease. They talked comfortably, wandering haphazardly over topics. She found she disliked the drink less and less the more she had, and liked looking at Nancy the more she looked. Her hard, straight nose, her lips as they twisted into a smirk, the severe lines of her face. Isabella was surprised at how pleasant she was to look at. She wasn't feminine, and yet she found that didn't matter as much as she expected it should. In fact, she quite liked Nancy's features.
"You're staring, Isabella." The deliberate emphasis on her name and her embarrassment at staring so openly made Isabella turn pink. "Something on your mind?"
Isabella had quite a lot on her mind, none of it appropriate enough for words.
When she didn't answer, Nancy went on, "We could go to my truck and talk about it."
This was how she found herself in the tiny, packed lot behind the bar and the crowded buildings, in a truck she'd never been in before with a woman she'd just met. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the tiny voice in the back of her mind that normally would have warned against it had long been drowned in gin.
Now that they were away from the bar and alone together in the quiet space, Isabella wasn't sure where to go from there. She knew what she wanted. She wanted to kiss Nancy. To press against her and feel if her body with it's hard lines and edges would feel quite so against her own. She wanted to put her fingers in her dark hair and perhaps elsewhere as well. She wanted. But she wasn't sure she had the nerve.
Isabella became very aware that Nancy was watching her, leaning back in her seat, waiting. She wished she would just make the first move, make it easy. But Nancy seemed determined to let Isabella come to her.
So Isabella scraped up her nerve and leaned across the gulf that divided them.
But her courage failed her inches from Nancy's mouth. This close, she could smell gin and tobacco and cloves. She could smell the leather of Nancy's jacket, and the unmistakable, human scent of her underneath it all. She longed to taste the source of it, to take Nancy's lips, but she could not bring herself to close the gap. She wasn't brave enough, she thought.
Nancy leaned forward and touched her face gently, her fingers caressing the curve of Isabella's jaw. She leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly over Isabella's, and Isabella felt something in her draw her forward like a magnet. She leaned into that kiss as though she were being pulled, though Nancy put her hands on the steering wheel and kept them there. She found herself cupping Nancy's face, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. It was so unlike her, and yet so easy. And when she bit down on Nancy's lip, earning a pleasurable grunt, that was easy too.
It was Isabella who parted her lips, eagerly seeking to deepen their kiss. Isabella who leaned completely against Nancy in her seat. Isabella whose hands were wandering, one to the back of Nancy's neck, the other to her thigh. She was breathless with wanting, and with the ease of it. All her life she had thought this would have been difficult, should have felt wrong, and yet here she was.
She was very aware that she was the aggressor here. Nancy had snaked one arm around her, but otherwise kept her patient distance. It was Isabella grasping and biting and pressing, Isabella doing the pursuing. Something about having that control was intoxicating. It was Nancy who pulled away gently.
"Shall I take you home?" At first, Isabella thought she had done something wrong. But Nancy continued, "Or shall we stay here so the bar can have a show after last call?"
Isabella found herself grinning. She was relieved, and felt a bit silly, like a hormonal high school girl. "Home, please," she said, sinking back into her seat. She smiled down into her lap and bit her bottom lip. Their kissing had been so fierce that she could still feel it, warm on her mouth. She remained present enough to give directions, but the back of her mind was still in that parking lot, leaning into Nancy.
"This the place?" Nancy asked as they pulled around the front of the massively tall building. She gave an appreciative whistle.
"It is. You can drop me out front, unless…" Isabella wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. Unless she wanted to come inside?
After a moment, Nancy spoke, "Maybe we'll park for a bit, eh?" Isabella nodded and they pulled around to the parking garage. She wasn't ready to be alone just yet, but she wasn't sure how to ask for what she wanted.
Nancy found a spot overlooking the city, away from any other vehicles. She put the truck in park and killed the engine, sitting back in her seat and looking Isabella over. Again, Isabella found herself magnetically drawn to Nancy, who put both of her arms around her this time. Isabella didn't waste any time pretending. She ran her tongue over Nancy's bottom lip, and let herself be drawn straight into the deep end.
Isabella's hands roamed freely, seeking something satisfying, and finding only the layers of clothing separating them. She whimpered with the frustration of it, of wanting more. She ventured to slide one hand up the inside of Nancy's thigh and earned an appreciative hiss. Nancy pulled away just enough to reach around the side of her seat and tilt it back just so. Then she leaned up and, for the first time that night, gave a demanding tug at Isabella's hip.
Isabella obliged, bringing her leg around to straddle Nancy's lap. From her perch, she had free reign over Nancy's body and began to run her hands over the landscape of it. She began to tug Nancy's jacket down off her shoulders, urging her to take it off. The other woman obliged, and then her hands were back on Isabella's hips, groping.
Isabella moaned lusciously into Nancy's lips as she felt her hips pulled down hard.
And then she felt something else, something she didn't expect. It was hard. Against her thigh. Nancy was watching her with hooded eyes as she ground her hips upward experimentally.
Isabella wasn't exactly sure what she was feeling, but she liked it. She ground against Nancy with a sigh. It definitely felt like she was wearing a --
"D'you like my cock?" Nancy's breath was hot against her ear.
Isabella felt a flush creep down her chest.
"Yes." The word practically spilled from her lips as she tucked her face into the nape of Nancy's neck and pressed down harder still, seeking more of that feeling. She whimpered again, trying to get it exactly where she wanted it. Nancy's grip was strong and demanding as she guided Isabella's rutting against her.
This was not like her. This was not lady like. It was not refined. It was not becoming. It was animal. Base. Hungry.
And it felt fucking good.
Distantly, Isabella knew she must be making a lot of noise. She knew that they were rocking the vehicle, and anyone passing would know. But she was finding it hard to care just then. Her head was all full of Nancy. She longed to be fuller still.
Nancy's voice was thick and raspy in her ear , "You should take me up to your flat."
"Oh?" It was no use trying to be coy, but it came so naturally. "Why would I do that when I'm enjoying you so much right here?"
Nancy held Isabella's hips tight against her own, that hardness pressing just so, making her sigh.
"Because I can't fuck you into your couch from here."
The distance between Nancy's truck and Isabella's couch was torture. In the elevator, Nancy pressed Isabella against the wall, wedging her hips between Isabella's thighs, pressing that vulgar bulge into her, making her whimper. It was too much, she almost begged to have it right there. She was able to temper her need, but only just. When they made it to her flat, Isabella had lost all patience. She took Nancy straight to the couch and pulled the woman down on top of her.
To give up herself like that, to willingly be beneath someone, was terrifying. When Nancy tried to pin her wrists above her head, she pulled them back at once.
"No!" Her outburst startled them both. "No," she said more quietly. "Like this." She twined her fingers with Nancy's, who slowed in her attentions. When she bit Isabella's shoulder, she let her teeth linger, soothing the red marks with soft kisses. When she ground against her, it was deep and firm and she waited to hear that long sigh before she pulled back. All the while her once hard eyes had gone soft, and never left Isabella. Even when her eyes fluttered closed with a groan, Isabella could feel her focused gaze. Where earlier it made her feel scrutinized, it was a comfort now. It was like being heard by the one person that mattered in a crowded, noisy room.
They continued like that until Isabella's pleasure became an ache and she found herself begging Nancy for more. She disentangled one hand and trailed it down Nancy's chest to the waist of her jeans. The tips of her fingers dipped down beneath the band, and there it was. Smooth, and hard, and just the smallest bit pliant. Isabella chewed her lip. She felt outside herself, as though the person pinned to the couch was not her. As though the dress that had been pushed up and pulled down so it was scrunched about her waist, nothing more than a formality, did not belong to her. As though the breathy, lustful panting filling her flat weren't at least half from her own mouth.
But she was keenly aware of the tender, red teeth marks trailing down her chest. Of the prickling pleasure between her legs. Of the slick evidence of her own arousal, obscenely wetting her thighs. Of Nancy who had stilled above her, her expression wolfish and eager.
Isabella reached down to slowly stroke the swell of Nancy's jeans, and a little thrill raced up her spine as the other woman moaned. Nancy dipped her hips to let it fill her hand. This new sensation was powerful--to know that she could make another person feel this way with just the touch of her hand.
She took one of Nancy's hands and brought it between her own legs, where her aching desire demanded attention.
"I need to be inside of you," Nancy said.
It wasn't a demand, she was asking permission. This woman who, as far as Isabella could tell, was not intimidated by anything, and who had been making her ache since the bar was asking for the privilege of driving her cock between her legs.
"And if I say 'no'?" Isabella ventured.
"Then," Nancy said, with some difficulty as she screwed her eyes shut against her own needs, "I can please you with my hands. Or my mouth."
"And what if I told you I didn't want any of it? What if I told you to stop?"
Nancy pulled away enough to look Isabella in the eye, trying to discern what exactly she was getting at.
"I've never been this hard in my entire life, but I do what you say. I'm not going to take something you won't willingly give."
Isabella considered this for a moment. Once again that night she was very aware that she could walk away and be done with this. Nancy wanted her, wanted to savage her like some wild, feral thing. The cock in her pants may have been fabricated, but her lust was real. And even still, Isabella only had to say 'no' to make it stop. If she wanted.
She was in control. She had a choice.
"And," Isabella continued, threading the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of Nancy's neck, "what if all I really wanted was for you to beg for it?"
Nancy leaned down with a gasp as Isabella's grip tightened. She covered Isabella's body with her own, her nose trailing over Isabella's jaw, her hands fisted in the cushion, and that delicious hardness pressed between Isabella's legs, begging to be let in.
"Then I will grovel for as long as you like," Nancy said in a low voice that vibrated against Isabella's ear. "Please, Isabella" she growled. "Please let me inside. Let me fill you." Her teeth scraped against her shoulder. "Let me fuck you." She punctuated her pleading with a hard thrust of her hips. "I want you desperately."
Making Nancy beg like this was giving Isabella immense pleasure, but not release. As much as she enjoyed this, she wanted more, and for the first time in her life she finally felt secure enough to ask for it.
No. To demand it.
"Then take out your cock, Nancy, and give me what I want," she said.
Nancy obeyed, undoing the front of her pants and spreading Isabella's legs roughly. When she entered her, Isabella cried out. She was filled to the brim with no space left for thought or second guesses. This was good, this was right, this was what she wanted.
Nancy grunted sweetly as she worked between Isabella's legs. Suddenly, her savagery had turned to worship and she babbled a string of endearments into Isabella's ear. Meanwhile, Isabella had never cursed so loudly or so much in her life. She drove her hips upward against Nancy to take in every inch, to bring herself closer to that sweet relief she had been chasing.
Later, Isabella could not have said what obscene things passed her lips, or what exactly Nancy had done with her hands that gave her that long, trembling, full body release. All the details were lost when she woke, still on the couch, Nancy's hard body still covering hers. She dragged a throw blanket over both of them, wincing at the sweet ache of the bruises that had started to blossom over her chest and shoulders. She touched them gingerly and smiled. They were trophies in red and purple of a hard-won battle for her own flesh. Reminders that she could give, or not give, herself to whoever she pleased.
She stretched gently and rearranged herself into a more comfortable position. If she didn't get up now and go to bed, she would surely sleep through her alarm in the morning, morning being frightfully close. She might even miss work.
Then again, that was her own decision to make. In the end, she decided she preferred the aches and bruises of her own choosing to the dull safety of obligation, everything else be damned.