Chiaroscuro and Catgirls

She paused, then audibly ground her teeth.

"Fuck," she enunciated. "Of all the times..."

"What? What is it?"

"Work as always," she said. "And my boss, specifically. It's never good news when he contacts me via messaging... hang on... let me just... fuck. Fuck! I knew it. I should have locked my fucking phone away, Christ almighty..."

I watched her as she squinted down at her handset. She typed something brief and stabbed send, then slumped back.

"Congo," she said. "Democratic Republic of. For fuck sakes."

"Er..."

"Time for Miss Fletcher to go and hand out slaps and sweets in the playground so that the children behave once more," she spat. "God, can't I just get one week, one week where the world doesn't burst into flames!"

Then she seemed to remember where she was and who I was.

"Sorry," she muttered. She shook her head, clearly still furious. "My time is not my own, as has just been directly demonstrated to both of us..."

"When?" I said, softly.

"As soon as possible. Tomorrow, ideally. Time is money, after all..."

"But you only just got back!" I protested.

"It's my own fault for getting involved with metals," she said. "My dad warned me, but... it's what I knew when I was growing up, and it's what I'm good at. It's all I'm good at."

"Metals..." I said, not understanding.

"My industry. Precious metals. I... flit from place to place, keeping the peace and making sure supply lines for our firm run smoothly. I'm very good at my job. Which unfortunately means that I'm the first person who gets called when things go sideways."

"And now you're off to Africa," I said, mind ablaze with thoughts of jungle and greenery and a bright sun above.

"Yes. Lucky me," she said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"It sounds so romantic," I said.

She snorted.

"It's hot and humid and..."

Then she paused.

"And stunning," she grudgingly admitted. "It has a rugged wildness to it, certainly. Many of the places I go to do. But... but it would be nice to rest on my laurels once or twice. To be able to have breakfast at a normal time in my own space. Oh well."

She picked up her wineglass and drained it. Then she made a face.

"Sorry," she said. "A stupid overly-dramatic reaction again. And I was so enjoying the evening."

"I'm still here," I said, softly. "Unless... if you'd like me to go..."

"No! No," she repeated, softer and more controlled. "No. I don't want you to go. I don't want this... this little bit of heaven to end. But... I suppose you have places to be, and so on..."

"I don't," I said. "Nothing's waiting for me now that I'm done with your commission. Just... no. No, I'm not going to whine about my lot, that would be such a false note to hit after tonight. Um... I'll... I'll stay a bit longer, if you'd like me to? I mean... I'd like to, it's... it's nice here. It's... quiet. Warm. A little bit of heaven," I finished, at a whisper.

She'd flushed pink during my rambling run of words.

"I like having you here," she admitted. "Far more than I should, really."

"Why?"

"Because I'm worried that... that you feel obliged to be here. That you feel like you have to stay and... listen to my nonsense."

"Is the door locked?" I said, softly.

"Er... yes."

"Could I open it if I wanted to?"

"Yes," she repeated, softer this time.

"Then I'm not compelled to stay here, am I?" I said. I reached out and touched her hand. "I'm happy here. I'll stay until you want me to leave."

She made a soft noise and reluctantly pulled her hand back.

"The problem we are shortly going to have, Vivienne," she murmured, "is that I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay here. With me," she added, at a whisper.

"I can stay," I reiterated. I really could; her flat was quiet, warm, beautiful - so much better than anything I had waiting for me at home.

And... I liked her, I'd realised. She was kind; gentle to be around, infinitely considerate...

And beautiful.

I shifted slightly closer, watching her face, the way her eyes tracked mine. She hadn't really looked at me; she was scrupulously careful to stay... professional. But her reactions to my touch had intrigued me, and alcohol and food had freed a part of me that seldom got to draw breath these days.

I slowly reached up and released my ponytail, allowing my mid-brown hair to fall down over my shoulders.

I watched her carefully; noting the way she swallowed, the way she leaned back into the soft, plush, ivory-cream fabric as if to maintain a safe barrier between us.

Her eyes flitted over my face, and a strange feeling of power came upon me; a rush of blood to my body, a sudden cramping need deep within me.

This woman - this strong, beautiful woman - liked me. I was nowhere near her league, but she liked me anyway. And she was desperately trying to stay aloof...

I could please her; I could give her some small bit of warmth and affection in return for everything she'd done for me.

I wanted to do it. I hadn't been touched in so long that I'd almost forgotten what it was like.

And now I wanted to touch her. And I desperately wanted her hands on me; a consuming compulsion to be hers, no matter how briefly...

So I reached out, carefully, to gently brush my fingertip to her cheek, then her lips...

"Viv..." she whimpered.

"Shh..." I breathed. "Don't speak. Just... just feel..."

I shimmied closer still, and slowly, still just a bit hesitant, conscious of possible rejection, trailed my fingers down her neck, across her shoulder and down her arm.

She shivered.

"Viv, please..." she said, her voice shaking.

"The thing about power structures," I whispered as I leaned closer still, "is that they are unbalanced. So lets... solve that problem for us..."

I closed the final distance; she moaned and shuddered against me as I gently nuzzled her ear. My pulse was roaring in my veins; a gnawing ache stirring deep in my belly. I kissed her cheek, then the corner of her jaw, and then (with a moan that didn't sound at all unhappy) she turned her face to me and I kissed her.

I felt her hands on me; clutching at my shoulders, pulling me down against her so that my breasts brushed against her. I whimpered once, repositioned myself, and then threw my denim-clad leg over her lap so that I could straddle her. I arched forward, desperate now, desperate to show her how much I wanted her, how mad I was with desire for her.

"Viv, Viv," she panted, "Viv, no, no please, slow down, this is wrong, please..."

I didn't believe her at all.

I pulled back, and put my hands to the hem of my shirt, and pulled it free of me to be discarded. I reached behind myself and tripped the clasp of my tatty old bra, flinging it aside with wanton abandon. Then I arched forward against her again, cupping her cheeks with my hands as I kissed her again and again...

"Viv, stop. No. Stop."

I paused, pulled slightly back, staring at her through the disordered mess of my hair.

"Why? What is it?"

"This... this is wrong..." she whispered.

"Why?"

"I'm... too old for..."

"You are not old. You are beautiful."

"I'm... I paid..."

"Yes, you did, and we settled that earlier - and you were very clear on what it was and what it was not. You're not buying my attention. You're not paying for my body. I want this," I whispered. "I... I haven't been with anyone in over a year. I'm also alone and lonely. You've been so... nice to me. I want you, Kirsty. I want you so much. So..."

And I fumbled for her hands and raised them; she didn't resist as I put her fingers to my breasts.

Her fingers were warm against my skin; they shifted against my nipples and I arched, groaning.

"Vivienne," she moaned. "I'm... I'm trying to be good..."

"I don't want good!" I cried out. "I need to be wanted. Don't you want me?"

"Of.... of course I do..." she panted.

"Then have me. I'm yours. Let me please you," I begged her. I began to fumble at her white Chanel blouse, quickly tripping button after button. I slipped my fingers beneath the fabric; she arched, gasping, as I found and caressed the warm swell of her breasts.

"Oh... oh God... wait. Wait, just... just let me..." she begged me.

I leaned back, she struggled for a moment, then freed herself from the constricting fabric. She was flushing hot, staring up at me, mouth slightly open. I slipped my hands in behind her and undid her bra, then slowly eased the straps down off her shoulders so that I could free her. I dropped it to the side and stared down at her slender, toned body and her dainty teardrop breasts.

"You're gorgeous. You're so amazing," I whispered.

She made a soft noise and shifted against me.

"Can I touch you?" I begged. "Please let me touch you..."

"You can touch me," she said, voice trembling ever so slightly.

Her nipples were hard, jutting proudly from her small, dark areolae; I took them between thumb and forefinger as I cupped her.

She was so warm.

The muscles of her belly rippled once; she gasped a shuddering breath.

"Kirsty," I breathed.

"Yes."

"You're very hot."

"I'm... old..."

"You're not old. You're hot. I like you. You're very sexy. And... I need you. And now I'm going to kiss you again."

And as I did; she slid back into the firm folds of her sofa, pulling me down on top of her.

I felt her thigh part my legs and press up hard against me; a shudder rippled through me.

"Oh. Oh, that's nice," I whispered. "Having you there. I like that."

"You are making it... challenging for me," she complained.

"Stop being so... fucking... difficult, then. I'm a big girl. I'm here because I want to be. I know what I'm doing. I can feel that you want me. And I want you. Why does it have to be complex?"

"Everything is... complex," she panted.

"Not everything," I disagreed. I leaned forward, took her nipple between my lips and gently toyed with it. She tangled her fingers in my hair and let out a soft, pained wail.

"Vivienne," she panted. "Oh, Viv, that's so good... it's been so long..."

"So lets change that for us. I'm... aching, Kirsty, aching. I need to be touched, to be felt, to be fucked silly. I want you to fuck me silly. Will you?"

"Yes," she hissed. "But... you'll have to forgive my... fumbling..."

"Fumble away," I squeaked as she clasped her arms around me and clenched me down against her.

Her lips were hot on mine; she dug her nails into my shoulders as she wormed and writhed against me; the firm nubs of her nipples digging delightfully into me as she moved...

And suddenly I was the one fumbling at the clasp of her trousers. She moaned loudly as I got my hand down under it, crawling in against her skin. I pushed hard, she opened herself; I felt her matted pubic hair and... and then she parted under my fingers. She cried out wordlessly as I spread her, found her, entered her. She tried to open herself more; she tangled her fingers into my hair once more and desperately began to kiss me; her breath hot, her scent rising, maddening me...

She convulsed once, letting out a strangled, mewling gasp.

"Viv," she whimpered, "oh, oh, that's... that's good, darling. That's perfect right there..."

I lifted myself and yanked her pants down beyond her knees; she let out a gasp as I put my fingers to her severe, no-nonsense underwear. A kiss to her lips and another to her belly and I stripped her of them too. Her pubic hair was a dark, unkempt triangle that masked her sex; I'd fix that for her, I decided, before I put it from my mind and clambered in beside her. She shifted, writhed a foot free of her entangling clothing; I grabbed it and hooked her leg over me, opening her properly as I began to kiss and nuzzle at her. I slipped first one and then two fingers into her and slowly started to ease them in and out of her body, stretching her over me.

Her frantic breaths became high pitched, desperate little things; her inner thighs were soon wet from my frantic attentions.

I tucked my face in against her neck, willing her to come, willing her to experience some small little bit of pleasure for her kindness and care...

She began to shake; her legs spasming hard in on me in a quickly building tempo.

"Viv, Viv," she panted, "oh my God, oh..."

She convulsed up from the firm cushions, clawing at me, crying out wordlessly as she tried to get as close to me as she could. Shudders rocked her as she rolled in onto me, curled in against my sweat-slicked chest - shaking, gasping, moaning as she sank from climax down into her first, rippling release...

I took no pity on her. She'd had her way with me, now I would have my revenge.

I bit down gently on her ear; her legs spasmed.

I increased the tempo of my fingers, driving them hard into her, curling my index finger over into a pressure-generating bulge of the sort I so liked to have inside me.

She froze; a low, plaintive keening burst forth from her as her entire body tensed.

Then her thigh muscles began to quiver, to pulse in the same way, quickly building to a manic, mad-cap tempo.

And she screamed, clutching at me, right foot lashing out and kicking her empty wineglass over on her coffee table as she came a second time.

"Stop, stop, stop," she begged me, when she finally could.

So I slowed, and eased, but left my fingers in her, loving the tight, hot, musky heat of her on my hands.

She took a slow, shuddering breath; I could see her pulse throbbing hard in her neck.

Groaning, she shifted. She kissed my throat, and the line of my jaw, and then slumped in against me with an exhausted, amusing grunt.

"Kirsty?" I whispered.

"Mm."

"Sorry. I... I got a bit carried away."

"Never apologise," she breathed. "Oh. Oh my. Wow. You can totally do that again when I'm recovered."

She shuddered, gasped another breath.

"You... you're really good at that," she whispered. She moved her hips, took another slow breath; I felt her body pulse on me. "Oh. Oh, those fingers are skilled."

"Artist hands," I smirked.

"Mm. Vivienne... you've a wicked girl. We've probably ruined my couch and my carpet."

"Oh... bollocks..."

She laughed softly. "I'm sure they'll come clean. And it was such a delicious way to do it."

"I've never had sex on a couch before," I admitted. "Over a couch, once, yes..."

"Really?" She sounded amused. "Well, it's nice to be a first for you for something else as well."

She stirred, pushed herself up off me. Her hair had come loose; pale blonde strands trailed down over her right shoulder. I eased my fingers out of her; she shivered as my fingertips brushed against her, then fixed her piercing blue gaze on me.

"It seems unfair that I'm naked and you aren't," she said. She unhooked her leg from my thighs, sat up, and gave a sensual full-body shiver as if to shake water off herself. She pushed her trousers and panties fully down her leg and shook them off into a pile on the floor. Then she stood and offered me her hand.

I took it; she pulled me to my feet and into a warm, close embrace.

"My turn, I think," she whispered as she began to undo my jeans.

I stood, holding my breath as she slowly slid the fabric down along my legs. I stepped free, caught her hand, and put it to my panties. "Take these off me," I told her, "and then we'll be even."

"We're nowhere near even," she answered me, "but I intend to undress you nonetheless."

She eased the worn cotton down off me, and paused.

"Mhmm. I definitely like you shaven like that," she said. She slid her finger down over my mons to my aching lips; my shoulders hunched forward as I shivered. "I like it very much," she continued. "It's... nice. I've thought about it sometimes but never had any reason to."

"I'll shave you," I whispered.

She gave me an uncertain grin. "You may need to restrain me first," she said. "I find it difficult to let go."

"I'm sure I could convince you," I breathed; she laughed.

"Stop being wicked and come to bed," she told me. "Since we seem to be doing this despite the fact that it's a terrible idea."

She took my hand and pulled me after her, down a short passageway past an enormous bathroom that I eyed with jealousy during our brief passing.

Her large, minimalist bedroom was dominated by an immaculate bed; in a corner was a small writing desk; there was little other decoration bar a few monochrome abstract prints.

She led me to the side of her bed, then spun to face me.

"I want to taste you," she said, quiet and matter-of-fact. "I've wanted it since I first saw you. I want to spread you and tongue you and make you scream."

Desire ramped up in me again.

"Shall I lie down for you?" I whispered.

"No. Not yet. I'll lie down then... then you can come be on top, if you like."

"Oh, I see how it is - making me do all the work, is it?" I teased her.

She grinned; the years seemed to drop away.

"Indulge me in my kinks, will you please," she said. "And no kink-shaming while you're at it, thank you so very much."

She sat neatly down on her perfectly-turned-down duvet, and shifted backwards to the center. She slowly lowered herself; I stared hungrily at her as the toned muscles of her slim midriff tensed and released.

"Oh my God, you're delicious..."

"Stop whispering those sweet nothings and come spread your legs over me again," she answered.

I placed a knee on the bed, and then another, straddling her legs as I made my way slowly up along and over her. She raised her hands to clasp my bony hips; a shiver rippled through me as I felt the warm touch of her gentle breath on my hypersensitive clit. I reached down to brush a strand of her hair away from her face, then put my fingers to my lips and opened myself for her.

I took a breath; sighed it out, and slowly lowered myself onto her; arching and immediately hunching over as she touched me with her warm, slick tongue.

"Oh... oh wow...," I grunted, overwhelmed by the sensation.

She made a soft, throaty noise of delight and clenched her fingers into me.

I groped out blindly, eyes squeezed tightly together, finding the headboard and seizing it for support as she began to tease her tongue over and around my clit, darting it down along me to probe my tight, deprived entrance.

"Kirsty," I hissed.

"Mm."

"That's... so fucking... good."

"Mm."

Sweat began to bead on my arms and sternum; I was breathing heavily now, hips beginning to grind in small little cycles up and down along her. I could feel her masturbating as she licked and sucked me; I loved how physical she was, how open with her needs, how... demanding.

I felt her shudder; a similar shudder ran through me. She was pushing all the right buttons, doing all the right things; my scalp was soaking now, I could taste salt on my lips. I stared down at her bright, blue eyes between my thighs. She winked at me; I laughed, delighted by her wickedness.

Then I felt it coming; the almost-forgotten tightness of breath, the way my belly began to cramp, the uncontrollable curling and writhing of my restless feet...

"Uhn... oh... oh, Kirsty..." I begged her. "Kirsty, don't stop...please... please oh please oh..."

And then I hunched forward, grunting incoherently, trying to drive her delicious, wicked tongue into me...

Clench, clench, clench, and a run on set of monumental spasms that shook whimpers free of me as I slumped forward against her headboard. She gasped a pained breath; I remembered, shifted, still writhing from aftershocks as I forced my fingers down between her legs and under her own, penetrating her as I kissed her, tasting myself on her perfect lips, muffling her own helpless moans as her orgasm took her.

I loved pleasing her. I loved how easy she was to please. And I slumped over her, and in against her, her heartbeat becoming my own heartbeat, her body my body, the afterglow of our fucking warming me through and through as I melted in against her and gathered her in against me.