Has it really been a year? Sorry guys. I just wanted to do this one right. This one is Molly/Mary femmeslash.There's also foreshadowing for the next chapter.
Again, thank you everyone for your kudos and comments and sticking with me. Next will be a John/Mary chapter, then John/Sherlock following that.
Chapter 3, The Merry Wives of 221B: Molly and Mary go shopping together.
The bell above the door rang as they entered the small, hidden shop in Soho.
"...and I appreciate it. I really do! But I've always enjoyed both parts of…" Molly lowered her voice conspiratorially, leaning towards Mary, "...sex. The receiving and the giving. And ever since I started showing," she patted her stomach, four months large with child, "all Sherlock wants to do lately is give."
Mary giggled, "What a horrible problem you have," she teased, rolling her eyes, "and I don't think we need to keep our voices down here, love." she said, gesturing to the risque clothing, lingerie, and various sexual accoutrement. The girl behind the counter popped her gum in disinterest.
"Right. What is it, exactly, that you're looking for," Molly asked over her shoulder as she approached the nearest set of brightly coloured and barely-there underthings.
"Something red and lacy. Something crotchless," Mary couldn't fight her smile, "John was very specific."
"Indeed. Sherlock appreciated yesterday's Brazilian wax," she turned towards the closest rack, "Let's see," the hangers scraped against metal as Molly rifled through clothing, "leopard print, polka dots. Oh, here's red lace, but it's a G-string. Are you sure that won't work?"
Mary flushed with memory. Her husband knew exactly what he wanted her to wear in their little role-playing game. Red lace was a personal preference of his; he'd said just the thought of the sinful colour against her creamy skin got him hard. And crotchless panties, John said, would give him quick access so they could shag in the back of the seedy night club they'd picked out last week. Mary became aroused at the thought - the rhythmic beats of the club music, the smell of sex in the air, other people watching them, touching themselves, maybe grabbing a partner to join in...
"Oh, my," the sudden and breathy words pulled Mary out of her fog, "what are you thinking about?"
Her best friend was staring at her, a familiar glint in her eyes, her smile slightly parted. Although they were standing on opposite sides of the rack, she could see the glow of moisture on Molly's coral lips; she must have wetted them with her tongue.
The flush of arousal returned, and Mary could feel her nipples hardening against the cotton of her bra.
Grabbing a small slip of fabric masquerading as a skirt, Molly called out, "We'll just try this on," before pulling Mary towards the back.
"Uh-huh," was the dull reply, followed by the turn of a magazine page.
Then she was pushed into a small changing closet and up against the wall. Before she could get even a syllable of protest out, Molly was kissing her. And suddenly she didn't want to protest anymore.
Molly's lips were soft. They were always soft. Like petals against her mouth, her cheeks, her neck. Mary could kiss her all day and get lost in the smell of her hair and drown in her femininity. And these past few months, morning sickness aside, she'd been glowing with it. It's no wonder Sherlock couldn't resist her. Mary wanted to taste her, too, but it was clear Molly had other plans.
Her rounded stomach only slightly noticeable and therefore not entirely cumbersome, Molly easily lowered herself to her knees, deftly unbuttoning Mary's blouse along the way.
"Molly, we can't," she whispered, although her heart wasn't in it. She was just too beautiful there, kneeling before her, looking up at Mary as if she were some divine gift, ready to be worshipped. She leaned forward in response, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her belly as she slowly unbuttoned and unzipped Mary's jeans.
"No, you were right. She won't notice - she doesn't care," she stopped, looking up with pleading brown eyes, "Please."
Mary could do nothing but nod, and with a wicked grin, Molly pulled her jeans and knickers down and off one leg.
Calloused hands moved over her calves, massaging the flesh. They moved up to her thighs, parting them with the slightest pressure, squeezing as Molly rocked forward, teasingly tasting the skin with her tongue.
She moaned before lifting Mary's unclothed leg, placing her foot on the wooden built-in bench. With a wicked gleam, Molly leaned upward, teasing the outer folds of her bare sex; first with the tip of her nose, then with her tongue. Mary felt herself breathing faster in anticipation.
Her head fell back against the wall as her lover's tongue started making broad strokes, and Mary let loose a moan, then a groan as Molly stopped completely, pulling away.
"Uh-uh-uh," she quietly chastened, "no noises! We don't want to be caught, now do we," she asked with a devilish look in her eyes, "So everytime you make a noise, I'll stop."
Mary glared, but only briefly as Molly started in again, caressing her sensitive walls with her tongue, slowly torturing with her mouth.
She felt her own hands go to her still covered breasts, gently squeezing as Molly sped up, circling her vulva and nuzzling her clit with her nose. She started fucking Mary with a finger, then focused her tongue's attention to her clit, flicking it before taking it into her mouth to suck. Mary gasped, and Molly once again pulled away.
"Naughty girl," she cooed, caressing her lips with her fingers to keep Mary primed, "ready to try again?"
Mary bit her lip and nodded furiously. Molly started slowly again, but, unable to hide her eagerness, quickly reestablished the rhythm of her finger. Mary's hands delved under her bra, fondling and pinching her nipples.
Soon a second finger was added, and Molly was using her thumb and her tongue on Mary's clit, pulsing in and out with her fingers, and Mary knew she wasn't going to last much longer. She tried to moderate her breathing, wanting to stretch it out, but then she glanced in the mirror - Molly's head was bobbing between her legs. The erotic sight pushed her over the edge, and Mary yelled into her hand, riding Molly's face as she came.
When she came down, Molly was still there, embracing Mary around her middle, rubbing her skin with a smile, "Thank you," she breathed, "you're spectacular."
Mary blushed, "I really don't think you should be thanking me, but you're welcome," she traced her fingers over Molly's face and grinned, "Well, that's something I haven't done before. Wish we could clean up a bit."
"Oh," Molly grabbed her purse, pulling out a flannel, "I've been carrying this around lately - you never know when you might need a bit of a refresher. And I think… yes, here's a water bottle!"
They quickly performed their ablutions, then redressed and straightened their clothing and hair. When they exited, the shop girl made no indication she noticed they were in the booth a long time for one skirt, and they breathed a sigh of relief.
That's when Mary spotted them, right outside the door. "Look! Red, lacy, crotchless. Perfect."
When they got to the front, Molly nervously placed the two items on the counter, "This will be all."
The shop clerk stood silently with a blank look, smacking her gum.
"The skirt - you know the one we tried on? - fit her perfectly."
Pop.
"That's all we were doing back there, after all," smack, "trying on clothes, and we found the perfect skirt, so thank you."
"Sure," was the only response given.
Molly was adorable when she was awkward and flustered, but Mary put her out of her misery and handed over her credit card to pay. Soon they were back on the street, arm and arm.
"Promise you'll email and tell me everything about your 'date'," Molly said on the escalator down into the London Underground station, "I'll be living vicariously through you. When are you going again?"
"This Friday, and of course, sweeting. Everything."
As Mary watched the northbound train to Baker Street pull away, she decided not to email the details to her. No, she thought with a wicked grin, I'll tell her in person.
