JENNIE
I was awakened this morning by a great rumbling. Forgetting where I was for a split second, I automatically assumed I was home, and we were experiencing a tremor. I was halfway out of bed with one foot on the floor before I noticed that the view outside my bedroom window was decidedly more blue than it was at home, and decidedly more Mediterranean. And the rumbling? That was no tremor. It was Lisa snoring. Snoring. Snoring to beat the band, and by beat the band I mean beat that band up with her nose—which was emitting the most unearthly sound. I clapped my hands over my mouth to hold in the laughter and crept back into bed, the better to appraise the situation.
True to form, I'd taken over most of the bed in the night, and she'd been relegated to the far corner, where she was now curled into a little ball with a pillow tucked between her legs. But what she lacked in square footage, she made up for in sound. The sounds pouring forth from her nasal passages registered somewhere between grizzly bear and exploding tractor trailer. I wiggled across the mile-wide bed, curling myself around her head and looking down at her face. Even while making these horrific sounds, she was adorable. I carefully placed my fingers next to her nose, and plugged. And then waited.
After about ten seconds, she inhaled and shook her head, looking around wildly. She relaxed when she saw me perched on the pillows next to her.
She smiled a sleepy smile.
"Hey, hey, what's up?" she mumbled, rolling into me and wrapping her arms around my waist, resting her head on my tummy. I ran my hands through her hair, delighting in the casual freedom we finally had in touching each other.
"Just woke up. Someone was quite noisy on this side of the bed."
She closed one eye and looked up at me. "I hardly think someone as flaily as you can complain about anything."
"Flaily? That's not even a word." I huffed, enjoying her arms around me more than I wanted to admit.
"Flaily, as in, one who flails. As in, one who, even though she is sleeping in a bed the size of Alcatraz, still needs almost the entire mattress to spread out and kick," she insisted, accidentally-on-purpose pushing my shirt up so she could rest her head on my naked tummy.
"Flailing is better than snoring, Ms. Snorey Pants," I teased again, trying not to notice the way her lips scraped against my skin in the most delicious way.
"You flail. I snore. Whatever will we do about this?" she smiled happily, still half asleep.
"Ear plugs and shin guards?"
"Yep, that's sexy. We can suit up before bed each night," she sighed, pressing the tiniest of kisses just above my belly button.
A noise that sounded sadly like a whisper escaped my lips before I could pull it back, and my ears burned as I took in what she'd said about
"each night," as in sleeping together each night. Oh my…
We ate a quick breakfast at the house, then headed into town. I fell in love with the village instantly: the old stone streets, the whitewashed walls glimmering in the blazing sunlight, the beauty that poured forth from every open archway. From every speck of azure that peeked through from the coast to the friendly smiles on the sweet faces of the people who called this enchanted spot home, I was hooked.
It was market day, and we wandered in and out of stalls, picking up fresh fruit to snack on later. I've seen beautiful places on this earth, but this town was heaven for me. I'd truly never experienced anything like it.
Now, I had been traveling alone for years, finding my own company quite pleasant. But traveling with Lisa? It was…cool. Just, cool. She was quiet, the way I am when I'm seeing something new. She never felt the need to fill a silence with chattery words. We were content to soak up the scenery. When we did speak, it was to point out something we thought the other shouldn't miss, like the puppies playing in a dooryard, or an old man and woman talking back and forth over their balconies. she was a great companion.
We strolled back to the rental car, the afternoon sun toasting through the thin cotton covering my shoulders, when my hand tangled with her in the most unassuming way. And when she took the time to open my door for me, and leaned down to kiss me in the warm Spanish sunshine, her lips and the smell of olive trees were the only things I needed in the entire world.
In the time I'd known Lisa, I'd committed several images of her to memory: seeing her for the first time, clad only in a sheet and a smirk; driving back across the bridge with her the night of Jillian's housewarming, when we called a truce; warped and blurry Lisa as seen from inside an afghan; backlit by tiki torches, wet, and looking devilishly handsome by hot tub; and a recent addition to my Best of Lisas? The sight of her underneath me as she clutched me close, her warm skin and sweet breath all over me as we nooked in the Giant Bed of Sin.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, was hotter than watching Lisa work. I mean it. I actually had to fan myself a little—which she took no notice of, because when she was working she was delightfully focused.
And now here I sat, watching Lisa work. We'd driven up the coast to get some test shots at a place a local guide had told her about, and the perilously beautiful Lisa now concentrated completely on the task at hand. As she'd explained to me, it wasn't about the actual pictures she was taking, it was about testing the light and the colors. So as she scrambled her way from rock to rock, I sat on a blanket we'd dug out of the trunk and observed. Perched on cliffs high above the sea, we could see for miles. The rocky shoreline stretched and curled back in on itself as millions of waves poured in from the deep sea. And while the scenery was gorgeous, what had my attention was the way the tip of Lisa's tongue poked out as she surveyed the scene. The way she bit down on her lower lip as she puzzled over something. The way excitement broke over her face when she saw something new through her lens.
I was glad I had something to do, something to fixate on, as the beginning of a battle was starting to wage inside my body. Ever since we'd acknowledged the pressure that giant bed could have placed on us, all I could think about was that very pressure. As well as the pressure of an O
long denied, waiting patiently—and sometimes impatiently—for her release. The pressure was so strong, so intense, that every single part of me could feel it.
Currently taking sides in this internal debate were my brain, Lower Jennie (speaking for the distant O), Backbone, and although she'd mainly kept quiet lately, letting Brain and Nerves take control, Heart was now weighing in.
It should be noted that LC (Lower Jennie wanted a hip but abbreviated name) had somehow drafted Lisa's penis into the fray, and even though her penis didn't have direct access to her yet, LC felt it necessary to speak up on her behalf. While I didn't much like the term penis, internally I felt strange about calling her dick or cock, so penis it was…for now.
Now, Backbone and Brain were solidly in the wait-for-sex camp, believing this essential to the foundation of this burgeoning relationship. LC, and therefore Lisa's penis, were in the have-sex-with-her-as-soon-as-possible society, obviously. O, while not officially in residence, could be counted among LC's supporters. But I felt a twinge, and just a twinge, of her floating above both camps, along with Heart, who was currently singing songs about everlasting love and warm, fluffy things.
Take all this into account and what do you have? One totally confused Jennie. A Jennie divided. No wonder I had sworn off dating. This shit was tough. So was I glad to have something to think about other than the pressure cooker of sex indeterminate? Yes. Could I spend a little more time trying to come up with a more clever name for Lisa's penis? Probably. It deserved it. Mammoth Male Member? No. Pulsating Pill ar of Passion? No. Back Door Bandit? Hell no. Wang? Sounded like the noise those doorstopper things made when you flicked 'em…
I said it out loud to myself a few times, cracking myself up a little. "Wang. Wang. Waaaang," I muttered.
"Hey! Nightie Girl! Get yourself over here," Lisa called, breaking me out of my wang study. I left behind the mental battle, picking my way carefully across the craggy rocks to where she was poised.
"I need you."
"Here? Now?" I snorted.
She lowered her camera just enough to raise one eyebrow. "I need you for scale. Get over there." She pointed me toward the edge of the cliff.
"What? No-no. No pictures, huh-uh." I backed away toward my blanket.
"Yes, yes, pictures. Come on. I need something in the foreground. Get over there."
"But I'm a mess! I'm all windblown and sunburned, see?" I pulled down my v-neck just a little to show her how I was beginning to pink up.
"While I always appreciate you showing me your cleavage, save it, sister. This is just for me, just to give me some perspective. And you don't look windblown. Well, only a little." She tapped her foot.
"You're not gonna make me pose with a rose in my teeth, are you?" I sighed, shuffling over to the edge.
"Do you have a rose?" she asked, looking serious except for the shit-eating grin.
"Shut it, you. Take your pictures."
"Okay, just be natural. No posing, just stand there—facing the water would be great," she instructed.
I complied. She moved around me, trying different angles, and I could hear her muttering about what was working. I admit, even though I was shy about having my picture taken, I could almost feel her eyes, through the lens, watching me. she moved around for only a few moments, but it felt longer. The internal war was beginning to wage again.
"You almost done?"
"You can't rush perfection, Jennie. I need to get the job done right," she warned. "But yes. Almost done. You getting hungry?"
"I want those clementines in the basket—grab me one? Or will that mess with your masterpiece?"
"Won't mess with it. I'll call it Windblown Girl on a Cliff with a Clementine." She laughed and headed back over to the car.
"You're funny," I said wryly, catching the tiny orange she threw me and starting to peel.
"Are you sharing?"
"I suppose so, the least I could do for the one who brought me here, right?" I laughed, biting into a wedge and feeling the juice dribble down my chin.
"You got a hole in your lip?" she asked, capturing the moment as I rolled my eyes at her.
"Do you actually think you're funny, or are you just assuming you might be?" I countered, beckoning her over with the peel. She shook her head, laughing as she took a wedge. Of course, she took a bite and no dribble. She opened her eyes wide in feigned amazement, and I took the opportunity to smash another wedge in her face. Her eyes remained wide open, as juice now ran freely off the tip of her nose and on to her chin.
"Messy Lisa," I whispered as she looked at me. In a flash, she pressed her lips to mine, getting juice all over both of us as I squealed into her mouth. "Sweet Jennie," she whispered through her grin. she turned us so the sea was behind us, held up the camera, and took a picture: us covered in orange mush.
"By the way, why were you saying 'wang' earlier?" she asked.
I just laughed harder.
--
"This is it. This is now officially the single best thing I have ever had in my mouth," I announced, closing my eyes and moaning.
"You've said that about everything you've eaten tonight."
"I know, but I seriously can't handle how good this is. Smack me, pinch me, throw me overboard, this is too good," I moaned again. We sat at a little table in the corner of a small restaurant in town, and I was determined to try everything. Lisa, showing off her language skills, had ordered for us. I told her to go for it, that I was in her hands and I knew she wouldn't steer me wrong. And she did good. We feasted.
We went with traditional tapas, of course, accompanied by glasses of the house wine. Little bowls and plates showed up at the table every few minutes after that: tiny pork meatballs, slices of ham, marinated mushrooms, beautiful sausages, grilled squid with fruity local olive oil. With each bite, I was sure that I had just eaten the best thing ever, then another wave of gorgeous food would show up and convince me once again. And then these prawns arrived. Unreal. Fried crispy in olive oill with tons of garlic and parsley, smoky paprika, and just a hint of heat. I swooned. I actually swooned.
Lisa? she loved it. She ate it up. My reactions as much as the food, I think. She ate it up.
"Honestly, I can't handle any more," I protested, dragging a piece of crusty bread through the olive oil. She smiled as she watched me shamelessly enjoy another piece of bread before finally pushing back from the table with a groan.
"Best meal ever?" she asked.
"It really might be. That was insane." I sighed, patting my full tummy. Ladylike, schmadylike, I'd pounded that meal down like someone was going to take it away from me. A waiter appeared with two small glasses of a local wine. Sweet and crisp, it was the perfect after-dinner drink. We sipped slowly, the breeze coming in through the windows lightly scented with the sea air.
"This was a great date, Lisa. Really. Couldn't have been more perfect," I said, taking another sip of my wine.
"Was this a date?" she asked.
My face froze. "I mean, no. I suppose not. I just—"
"Relax, Jennie. I know what you meant. It's just funny to consider this a date: two people traveling together, but only now on a date." She smiled, and I relaxed.
"Hmm, we haven't really followed the traditional rules so far, have we? This might even be our first date, if we wanted to get technical."
"Well, technically speaking, what defines a date?" she asked.
"Dinner, I suppose. Although we've had dinner before," I began.
"And a movie—we've already had a movie," she reminded me.
I shuddered. "Yes, and that was definitely a ploy to get me to snuggle with you. Scary movie, so obvious," I scoffed.
"It worked, didn't it? In fact, I do believe I slept with you that night, Nightie Girl."
"Yes, I'm cheap and easy, I admit it. I suppose we really did do this whole thing backward." I grinned, sliding my foot across the floor under the table and kicking her lightly.
"I like it backward." She smirked.
I narrowed my eyes. "Not touching that one."
"Seriously, though. As I've mentioned, I have no experience with this stuff," she said. "How does this work? What if we were doing this…not backward? What would happen next?"
"Well, I suppose there would be another date, and another after that," I admitted, smiling shyly.
"And bases. I'd be expected to try to round some bases, right?" she asked seriously.
I spluttered my wine. "Bases? Are you for real? As in, cop a feel, over the shirt, under the shirt, those bases?" I laughed incredulously.
"Yes, exactly. What am I allowed to get away with? As a gentleman, I mean. If this were truly a first date, we wouldn't be going home together, would we? Dating now, not hooking up. Remember, apparently I give good woo," she said, eyes twinkling.
"Yes, yes, you do. We wouldn't be going home together, that's true. But to be honest, I don't want you sleeping in the bedroom down the hall. Is that weird?" I could feel my ears burning as I blushed.
"It's not weird," she answered quietly. I slipped off my sandal and pressed my foot against her, rubbing lightly along her leg.
"Nooking is good, right?"
"Nooking is most definitely good," she agreed, nudging back with her own foot.
"As far as your bases are concerned, I think you could definitely plan on a little under the shirt action, if you were so inclined," I answered.
Internally, Brain and Backbone gave a little cheer, while LC and Wang kicked a few chairs. Tatas were just glad someone was considering them for once, instead of being just a stopover on the way to points south. Heart? Well, she was still flitting about, singing her song.
"So, we go a little traditional, but not totally traditional. Take it slow?" she asked, her eyes burning, the sapphires beginning to do their little hypnotic dance.
"Slow, but not too slow. We are grownups, for goodness sake."
"To under the shirt action," she announced, raising her glass in toast.
"I'll drink to that." I laughed as we clinked.
Fifty-seven minutes later we were in bed, her hands warm and sure as she slipped each button through, revealing my skin. She went slowly, purposefully, and she let my shirt fall open as I lay beneath her. She gazed down at me, her fingertips lightly drawing a line from my collarbone to my navel, straight and true. We both sighed at the same time.
I can't explain it, but knowing we'd set some boundaries for the evening, silly as it may be, made it so much more sensual, something to be truly savored. Her lips hovered around my neck, whispering tiny kisses against my skin, below my ear, under my chin, in the dip between my neck and my shoulder, and working her way down to the swell of my breasts. Her fingers swept out, lightly, reverently, ghosting across the sensitive skin as I inhaled and then held my breath.
As her fingers gently grazed my nipple, every nerve ending in my entire body reversed and began to pulse in that direction. I exhaled, feeling months of tension begin to simultaneously flow out of me and build up even more. With sweet kisses and soft touches, she began the process of getting to know my body, and it was exactly what I needed. Lips, mouth, tongue—all of it on me, tasting, stroking, feeling, and loving.
As her lips closed around my breast, her hair tickled my chin in the cutest way, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. The feeling of her skin against mine was perfection, and something I'd never experienced before. I felt…worshipped.
As we explored that night, what started out as funny and cute and part of our classic banter became something more. What was crassly called
"under the shirt action" became part of a romance, and something that could have been merely physical became something emotional and pure.
And when she cradled me to her, bringing me into her nook with tender kisses and breathless giggles, we fell into a contented sleep.
Flaily and Ms. Snorey Pants.
For the next two days, I luxuriated. Truly, there isn't another word in the English language to articulate the experience I indulged in. Now for some, the definition of a luxurious vacation might be endless shopping, spa pampering, expensive meals, elaborate shows. But to me, luxurious meant spending two hours napping in the sun on the terrace off the kitchen. Luxurious meant eating figs dripping with honey and dotted with crumbles of local cheese while Lisa poured me another glass of Cava, all before ten a.m. Luxurious meant time alone to wander through the small, family stores of Nerja, poking through bins of beautiful lace. Luxurious meant exploring the nearby caves with Lisa while she photographed, losing ourselves in the colors under the earth. Luxurious meant gazing at Lisa dangling from a rock face while she searched out another foothold, shirtless. Did I mention shirtless?
And luxurious most certainly meant that I got to spend each night in that bed with Lisa. Now that's a priceless luxury, not offered on every grand tour. We rounded another base or two, teasing each other with a little over-the-panties encounter. Were we being ridiculous, waiting until the last night in Spain to consummate this "thing"? Probably, but who the hell cared? She spent almost an hour kissing every inch of my legs one night, and I spent about the same amount of time having a conversation with her belly button. We just…enjoyed.
But with all this enjoyment came a certain amount of, well, how shall we say, nervous energy?
Back in San Francisco, we'd spent months engaged in verbal foreplay. But now, here? The actual foreplay? It was not to be believed. My body was so in tune with her, I knew when she walked into the room, and I knew when she was about to touch me, seconds before she did. The air between us was sexually charged, vibes zinging back and forth with enough energy to light up the entire town. Sexual chemistry? Had it. Sexual frustration?
On the rise and getting close to critical.
Oh, hell, I'll say it. I was H-O-R-N-Y.
Which was why after we spent the afternoon in the caves, we found ourselves in the kitchen, kissing madly. We were both a little tired from the day, and I'd been wanting to test out that beautiful Viking range. I was preparing vegetables for the gril and stirring some saffron rice when she came in after a shower. It's almost impossible for me to explain the sight of her: worn white T-shirt, faded jeans, barefoot, scrubbing at her wet hair with a towel. she grinned, and I began to see double. I literally couldn't see through the haze of lust and need I suddenly felt surge through me. I needed my hands to be on her body, and I needed it to happen immediately.
"Mmm, something smells good. Want me to get the grill started?" she asked, walking over to where I was chopping vegetables at the counter.
She stood behind me, her body only inches from mine, and something snapped. And it wasn't just the pea pod I was holding…
I turned around, and my tummy actually fluttered at the sight of her. It freaking fluttered. I pressed my hand against her chest, feeling the strength there and the warmth of her skin through the cotton. Reason waved bye-bye, and this was now purely physical. An itch that needed to be scratched, scratched, and then scratched again. I slid my hand up around the back of her neck, and pulled her down to me. My lips crashed against her, my intense need for her pouring into her mouth and down to the tips of my toes. Toes that kicked off their flip-flops and started shamelessly rubbing themselves across the tops of her feet. My body needed to feel skin, any skin, and needed it now.
She responded, matching my rough kisses with her own, her mouth covering mine as I groaned at the feel of her hands on the small of my back. I quickly spun her around and pressed her up against the counter.
"Off! I need this off, now," I muttered between kisses, yanking at her T-shirt. In a great whoosh of fabric, her shirt was thrown across the room as I maneuvered my body against her, sighing as I felt the contact. I was alternately trying to hug her and climb her, the lust now running freely through my body like a freight train. I reached between us and palmed her through her jeans. Her eyes caught mine, and they crossed a little. I was on the right track. Feeling her getting harder by the second under my fingertips, suddenly all I wanted, all I needed, all I had to have to function in life, was her. In my mouth.
"Hey, Nightie Girl, what are you—oh God—"
Moving instinctively, I snapped open her jeans, dropped to my knees before her, and brought her forth. My pulse raced, and I think my blood actually boiled within me as I saw her. My breath drew in with a hiss as I regarded her, faded jeans pushed down just enough to frame this luminous sight.
Lisa does commando. God bless America.
I wanted to be gentle, I wanted to be tender and sweet, but I simply needed her too badly. I glanced up at her, her eyes clouded but frantic, as her hands came down to brush my hair back from my face. I took her hands in my own and placed them back on the counter.
"You're gonna want to hold on for this," I promised. She groaned a delicious groan and, doing as she was told, leaned back a little. She pushed her hips forward, but kept her eyes on mine. Always on mine.
My lips purred as I slipped her length inside my mouth. Her head dropped back as my tongue caressed her, taking her in deeper. The pure pleasure of this, the absolute pleasure of feeling her reaction to me was enough to make my head split in two. I drew her back out, letting my teeth just barely graze her sensitive skin as I saw her grip the edge of counter even harder. I ran my nails up the inside of her legs, pushing her jeans farther down for more access to her warm skin. Pressing kisses across the tip of her, I let my hands come up to grasp her, stroking and massaging. She was perfect, all smooth and taut as I took her in again, and again, and again. I felt crazed, drunk on her scent and the feel of her inside me.
She moaned my name over and over again, her words drifting down like molten chocolate sexy times, pouring inside my brain and dedicating
every sense I had to her, only to her. On and on I went, making her crazy, making me crazy, licking, sucking, tasting, teasing, luxuriating in the madness that was this luscious act. To have her here, in this way, was the very definition of luxury.
She stiffened further, and her hands finally came back to me, trying to make me pull back.
"Jennie, oh, Jennie, I'm…you…first…you…oh, God…you," she stuttered. Luckily, I was able to interpret. She wanted me to have something as well. What she didn't realize is that this total abandon she was giving me was all I needed. I released her only for a moment, to place her hands once more on the counter.
"No, Lisa. You," I replied, taking her in deeply once more, feeling her hit the back of my throat as my hands tended to the rest of her that my mouth could not. Her hips moved once, then again, and with a shudder and the most scrumptious groan I've ever heard, Lisa came. Threw her head back, closed her eyes, and let go.
It was wonderful.
Moments later, crumpled into me on the floor of the kitchen, she sighed contentedly. "Good Lord, Jennie. That was…unexpected." I giggled, bending down to kiss her forehead. "I couldn't control myself. You just looked way too good, and I…well …I got carried away."
"I'll say. Although I don't think it's fair that I'm somewhat exposed here, and you're still fully clothed. We could remedy that pretty quickly, though." She pulled at the drawstring on my pants.
I stopped her. "First of all, you aren't somewhat exposed, you are hanging free on the kitchen floor, and I quite like it. And this wasn't about me, although I admit I enjoyed it immensely."
"Silly girl, now I want to enjoy you immensely," she persisted, running her fingers along the edge of my pants, dancing across the skin there.
Nerves began to dance the flamenco, demanding more time—more time! Not ready! LC kicked some things. "No, no, not tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner. Let me take care of you a little bit. Can't I just do that?" I removed her devil hands and kissed them.
She smiled up at me, her hair messy and a goofy grin still adorning her face. She sighed in defeat and nodded. I started to climb off the floor when she caught me around the waist, pulling me back down.
"A word, please, before you leave me—what did you say? Hanging free on the kitchen floor?"
"Yes, dear?" I asked, earning a raised eyebrow.
"So, using the base-rounding point of reference we've applied to this week, I'd say we just skipped ahead a few dates, yes?"
"I should say so." I laughed, patting her lightly on the head.
"Then I think it's only fair to warn you…Tomorrow night? Your last night in Spain?" she said, her eyes blazing through the twilight.
"Yes?" I whispered.
"I'm gonna try to steal home."
I smiled. "Silly Lisa, it's not stealing if I wave you in," I purred, kissing her solidly on the lips.
Later that night, as I lay wrapped thickly in Lisa, LC began to prepare. And Brain and Backbone began to chant…O…O…O. Wang? Well, we knew where she was, pressed rather closely against Backbone.
Heart continued to float above, but was circling ever closer to home. However, an additional entity began to assert herself once again, trying to influence the others. She tinted my dreams with her quiet whispering.
hello, Nerves.
My sleep was most decidedly…flaily.