Читать книгу Naughty Little Secrets - Mary Wilbon - Страница 10

Laura closed her eyes and let her body relax. She took a long deep breath, and slowly exhaled. She did it again.

In, and out. In, and out.

She began to feel the rhythm inside her.

In, and out. In, and out.

She rubbed her hands together, blew into her palms, then flexed her fingers. Laura was intensely determined to finish what she had started. Even if it took all night, she was going to get it up. She wanted it that badly. The clock was ticking and her desire, her need, was becoming urgent.

She reached over to the nightstand by the bed, and grabbed a bottle of lotion. She squirted some on a few strategic places on her body, then slowly and deliberately rubbed it on her skin. It felt so good against her hot flesh. It was velvety, cooling and soothing.

Laura licked her lips and braced herself for insertion.

Now she was ready.

She lay on her back, squarely in the middle of the bed. Her long blonde hair was in disarray around and beneath her. She found her courage, took another deep breath, and then moved her trembling hands down slowly over her hips. There, on top of her, her hands found their objective. She laughed involuntarily when she felt its sponginess. Still flexible, still doable. It was damp from all the previous attempts, but Laura was confident that she could make it fit.

Beads of sweat formed on her brow and at the nape of her lovely neck. She grabbed hold and started to pull up.

Nothing.

She strained and tugged even harder. She arched her back and moaned.

Still nothing.

Then slowly…very slowly…it moved.

“Oh, yes…yes…yes…God…Oh God,” she screamed in abandon.

She started to pump her hips in a bucking motion. She was just inches, mere seconds from the payoff.

“Yes! That’s it! Right there! Oh…”

“Will you please get a grip on that,” said Slick, leaning casually against a post of the canopied bed and smiling down at her. “I wish you could see yourself from here, making a spectacle of yourself like this. All the panting and undulating. Your cheeks flushed. Your breasts heaving in a frenzy. It’s shocking and disturbing.

“Have you no shame, no modesty? I’m embarrassed for you. I only hope that in time I’ll be able to purge this sordid image of you from my memory.”

Without moving a muscle, Laura lay there and asked, “Are you done? Or are you just going to stand there mocking me and making snide remarks at my expense?”

Slick thought this over for several seconds.

“It’s very tempting, but no, I’m done. No…wait…wait…I think I’ve got one more joke left…Nah, I’ve got nothing. I’m done.”

Laura, knowing that she had been busted, pulled herself up on her elbows and asked, “How long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to capture you writhing around like a fish out of water on videotape. It’s sure to be a hit at the party.”

“Well, you try getting into this stupid thing,” said Laura in disgust, collapsing back onto the bed. The tail at the end of her formfitting rubber fish suit crashed to the floor. “It’s becoming an aerobic workout. Whose bright idea was it to have a costumed Christmas party, anyway?”

“Someone said ‘don we now our gay apparel.’ You know our peeps wouldn’t let that go by without turning it into a party. But no one told you to go as a mermaid,” teased Slick. She walked to the closet and stepped inside.

“It seemed like such a great idea at the time. You know, me being the head of a clam company. I wanted to do something aquatic,” Laura explained, reaching down to retrieve her fin.

“Very subtle. And you got me this Sherlock Holmes getup because I used to be a detective, right?” asked Slick, emerging from the closet holding her costume.

“Yes, I was working with themes.”

“I see. You will never know how relieved I am at this moment that neither one of us is a proctologist.” Slick pretended to shudder at the thought of it.

Slick removed her costume from its wrapping and smiled to herself. She had to admit it was a clever idea. She put on the Holmes trademark deerstalker cap, then put the big-bowled pipe with the bent briar in her mouth. She got into the shirt, and placed the cufflinks into the sleeves. She draped the herringbone cape around her shoulders.

Slick walked to the mirror and struck what she thought was an appropriate Sherlock Holmesian pose. She raised one eyebrow and pretended to smoke the pipe.

“The game is afoot,” she said to her reflection.

She did a few turns in the mirror, checking herself out. Not too bad. This could work after all, she thought. She was going to enjoy being Holmes.

She turned back to Laura.

“Would you like me to help you get into your fish tail?”

“Oh, no you don’t,” laughed Laura. “The last two times you ‘helped’ me, the damned thing ended up on the floor, around my ankles.”

“I can’t believe you’re still holding that against me.” Slick winked and rubbed her chin. “My recuperative abilities are amazing. You’ll be happy to know that the feeling is finally starting to return to my face.”

“You were the one who wanted to play ‘Jaws Meets the Little Mermaid,’” said Laura.

“Yes, but I distinctly remember that you were the one who wanted to play ‘The Pussy Hiding Adventure,’” said Slick. “This time I promise I’ll be good.”

Slick offered her hand to Laura. Laura took hold and Slick lifted her gently from the bed. She grabbed the top of the fish suit and pulled Laura to her. Laura slid effortlessly into the costume. They laughed, and as Slick held Laura close, she looked around the room.

They had shared this room, this bed, this home for ten years. Time had flown. It didn’t seem possible, but Slick loved Laura now more than ever.

And now they were about to celebrate their tenth Christmas together. Slick said a silent prayer of thanks, kissed Laura softly, and watched her as she wriggled her way into the final fit of the fish tail. She put her feet through the slots at the bottom and walked unsteadily to the bed.

“I don’t get it,” said Laura as she adjusted herself. “Bette does a mermaid thing in her show and she never seems to have any problem.”

“She’s in a wheelchair for most of it, baby,” said Slick. “And she’s got the Harlettes helping her. Speaking of Bette, do you think she’ll be at the party tonight?”

“No,” sighed Laura. “I don’t think so. She’s still a little cranky about her TV series being cancelled.”

“She’s still upset about that! That was years ago.”

“I know. But you know Bette. It’s hard for her to get over things. She still hasn’t forgiven Barry Manilow for wanting his own career. She swears he’ll come crawling back to her any day now.”

“What about Puffy?” Slick asked. “Will he be at the party?”

“I’m not sure,” said Laura. “But if he does show up, call him ‘P Diddy.’ Don’t call him ‘Puffy.’ He doesn’t use that anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Puffy’ made him sound like he was retaining water,” explained Laura.

“Oh, okay.”

Slick suddenly became very serious and very still. She stood in the center of the room and slowly looked around. Her eyes searched everywhere, taking in every detail. She absentmindedly gripped her Sherlock Holmes pipe and frowned.

Laura watched her in her transfixed state and knew she was concentrating deeply on something. She wanted to ask what it was, but decided to wait for it.

Ten seconds passed.

Twenty seconds passed.

“I can’t find my underpants,” Slick finally said in exasperation. “I’ve been looking all over and I can’t find them anywhere.”

“I was wondering why you were still walking bare-assed around the room. Why don’t you just put on another pair,” asked Laura.

“Because now it’s personal,” answered Slick. “I used to be the best looking, best detective in the country and now I can’t find my own underpants. It’s humiliating.”

Laura smiled as she sat on the bed, putting on the top of her costume. “I’ll agree that you were the best detective on the east coast, but the ‘best looking’?”

Slick sat down on the opposite side of the bed and said, “People used to say to me every day, ‘Hey, you look just like Halle Berry’.”

“The people you’re referring to were criminals, Sweet Cheeks, and you were pointing a loaded gun at them at the time.”

“That was the only way I could get them to say it.”

Laura turned to face Slick, but all she saw was Slick’s naked ass as she bent over, looking under the bed for the missing underpants.

“Gee, what a vision. Where’s that video camera? I’d like to get a shot of this made into a tee shirt.”

But Slick hadn’t heard her.

Laura resisted the urge to reach over and give her a pinch. Instead she watched as Slick’s butt bobbed up and down in the air. She had seen that butt almost every day for the last ten years. She hoped she would see it for the next ten years and the ten years after that.

Suddenly Slick stood straight up and said “Aha! Where’s Garbo?”

“She went sulking off after you forced her to wear those little reindeer antlers. She wanted to be alone. I think she was embarrassed,” answered Laura.

“Well, if we’ve got to wear ridiculous costumes, so does she. The three of us are in this thing together,” Slick said with authority, as she went to search for the culprit dog.

“And you look more like Chuck Berry than Halle Berry,” Laura said softly, stifling a laugh.

“I heard that.”

Laura knew that Slick missed being a detective, and it was no exaggeration that she had been one of the best. She had given it up for Laura because Laura could not cope with wondering every night if Slick would make it home to her. Laura felt that the longer Slick stayed on the streets, the odds were, eventually, there would be a fatal bullet with Slick’s name on it.

The world Slick had lived in and worked in before she met Laura was light years away from the lush opulent life Laura was used to. Slick’s world was dangerous and violent. Laura knew that Slick had the cunning and intelligence to survive in it, but Laura also knew that sometimes even the best got unlucky.

Slick never said it out loud, but Laura sensed she was bored with her current job. They would have to discuss it soon. Laura knew that whatever happened, they would still be together. There was no problem so terrible that it would pull them apart, but Laura was not ready to see Slick go back to carrying a gun, and risking her life every day.

Slick returned to the room shortly, wearing the stolen underpants and carrying a bottle of champagne. She was preceded by an antlered Yorkshire terrier that jingled with every step it took.

The dog stopped in the middle of the room, shook her head, and flapped her ears in an attempt to remove the antlers. It didn’t work. The antlers didn’t budge. She stared helplessly at Laura with beseeching, brown glass button eyes, looking for some assistance in her plight.

Laura smothered a laugh, then looked away, not wanting to snicker insensitively.

Resigned to her fate, Garbo gave a short sigh, jumped up on the bed, turned around twice then lay still, resting her head on her front paws.

“Even though it’s been years since my last case, I haven’t lost my touch,” Slick said. “Behold my success and alert the media! Another mystery has been solved. I can still match wits with a crafty canine intellect,” Slick said, laughing at herself. “I think we should celebrate.”

Her mind went blank when she saw Laura standing there in her complete costume.

After all these years, Laura was still the most beautiful woman Slick had ever seen. The absurdity of the mermaid costume didn’t diminish that at all. Her seemingly bottomless blue eyes still left Slick speechless at times.

This was one of those times.

Suddenly it seemed to Slick that all the air had been sucked out of the room. Then Slick felt the familiar swarm of butterflies overtake her stomach, then felt her knees get weak. She was positive that her heart would start to beat again and that she would remember how to breathe any minute now…any minute now…any minute…

She was falling in love with Laura all over again. And falling hard, as if a trapdoor had opened up beneath her feet. It happened regularly. No one but Laura had ever made her feel this way. It had started as long as ten years ago, and Slick had felt the same rush of love for her as recently as yesterday. The original thrill came over Slick with all its desire. All the beauty of that first passion came back to her.

Slick put down the Cristal and started walking toward Laura. Laura started walking to meet her. Laura walked a little lopsided because of her costume and unintentionally started veering off away from Slick, but Slick thought she was the sweetest thing she had ever seen. She reached out to get Laura back and held her tightly. They stood holding on to one another, enjoying the embrace, each replaying scenes of the past ten years in their head.

“Okay,” Slick whispered in Laura’s ear, “how about a quick game of The Sailor and the Other Sailor,” her hands moving up toward Laura’s breasts. “Nips ahoy.”

Laura kissed her cheek and said, “Silly, as much as I would love to, we’re already late for the Christmas party. It started over an hour ago at least.”

“Being late is fashionable,” Slick urged.

“Not when you’re the hosts,” Laura laughed. “We’ve got a house full of people downstairs who are probably eating and drinking us into poverty.”

“I’m sure the staff is tending to them. I can hear the music and laughter from here. They don’t even know we’re not there yet.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” whispered Laura, putting her arms around Slick’s neck. “Let’s have a private toast now, and I promise you, those sailors will be standing here to salute you after the party.”

“That’s a deal, and I’ll hold you to it,” said Slick, giving Laura one final squeeze.

She hurriedly finished putting on the rest of her costume and opened the champagne.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to walk around in that thing all night? How will you get down the stairs?” asked Slick, bringing her a glass.

“I’m going to ride the motorized seat down the stairs and really make an entrance. After that, if I need to, I can always lean on you.”

“Always. Forever.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

They clinked their glasses, sipped and kissed, then left the room arm in arm to greet their guests.