15th January 1778
I have so much to say my pen shakes as I write. I shall try to compose myself as I write but the events of the past few days linger in my mind and on my skin as though I am still experiencing them.
Several days ago, a letter arrived for me in a clear, crisp script I did not recognise. I could barely contain my utter delight when the sender turned out to be none other than my own, dear W asking if I might possibly make it to London. I would be a guest at the Van Helsing's townhouse with both herself and her brother, Abraham in residence. I shamefully admit that I used the pretence of Edward being in London for the season to cover my true intent in going while I knew full well that he was in the North with his regiment. Words could not describe my joy when mother granted me leave to stay (she actually approves immensely of the Van Helsings...but I wonder how her feelings would change if she knew the truth!)
I could scarce imagine the difficulty of arranging a liaison if W had indeed been a man (which is a ridiculous hypothetical as I would not be wanting the man-W to stay over at all!) Oh you cannot begin to comprehend how terrified I was. I was more than able to see the irony of it, I had longed to be alone with my W for so long but once I had achieved my goal I was frozen in stark terror. Dear W knew exactly how I felt and preceded with all the tenderness I knew she possessed. I am scared to commit the events of last night to paper for fear of discovery and yet I want more than just the memory of them to remain.
I am having great difficulty collecting my thoughts so I shall start from a beginning of sorts. When I arrived at the Van Helsing's townhouse, W and I were compelled to spend an evening in the company of several of Captain Van Helsing's friends. Fine fellows all, but I wished they would all beg their leave as I desperately wanted to be alone with W...and I knew she felt the same way. All through the evening she cast discreet glances in my direction that set my cheeks aflame. Her intent was written o so clearly in her gaze...she was undressing me with her eyes. Prior to my meeting W, I scarce even thought about what it would be like to stand bare before another person. I had overheard older, married women speak in hushed tones of an act so private that it could never be discussed, even between friends. From what I understood, it was a hurried act performed solely beneath the sheets...a duty to be performed. From what I now understand, it is none of those things...although I suppose there was some part of it that did take place beneath the sheets!
I am losing my way again...When Captain Van Helsing's companions did finally depart and he himself made to beg his leave to retire for the evening, I felt a sudden rush of panic to my gut. I was left alone with W, and we were not in a stable or with the spiders in a cramped space beneath the stairs. I was suddenly aware of just how unseemly our being alone truly was. Two young, unmarried lovers...alone together.
I was able to study W's face without being concerned of the notice my rapt attention might draw from gossiping matrons. Her whole visage was lit with some sort of inner glow and, although I did not think it possible, she appeared even more beautiful than ever before. She was saying something to me, her rosy lips moving as though she spoke but I could hear nothing.
"Miss Maclay, are you quite alright," her voice finally broke through my rapture.
I felt my cheeks burn when I realised how foolish I must have seemed to her eyes, "Pardon me, Miss Rosenberg ...you seem to have a habit of rendering me speechless."
She laughed and tossed her flaming hair with overstated abandon, "Unintentional on my part of course...although I am exceptionally handsome."
I joined in that laugh, "And modest too."
We faced each other from a distance of a few paces for just a moment longer before she surged forward and took up both my hands in her own. I again felt a surge of power as our skin touched and her fingers entwined with my own. She lifted each hand in turn up to her lips and deposited a kiss on the back of my hand. So chaste a touch, and yet I felt my loins quivering with the same need I had felt last time her lips touched me. When her bowed head rose again to meet my gaze I saw her eyes shining bright with passion...and unshed tears.
"Miss Maclay...Tara...I must admit that my intentions towards you tonight are not entirely honourable...in fact, they are not honourable at all," I heard W whisper, her voice choked with emotion, "I know what I want...yet I do not know what you want, whether you desire conversation or a bed, it has been a long evening entertaining and I fear that you may be exhausted and in need of sleep...alone."
I was immensely pleased to hear that the last word was added on somewhat regretfully, as though the thought of me going to sleep alone was the worst manner in which to end the evening. I must admit that I was momentarily speechless once again. As I cursed my thick tongue, I was amazed that this young woman, possessing all the confidence and wit that she did, should be seeking direction from me! I knew exactly what I wanted. Even if I did not possess the words to fully make it known, I knew I could show her.
With brazenness I did not know I possessed, I drew her hands around my waist and moved into her body. I then claimed her lips with my own in a display of pure passion, full of heated breath and urgency.
I showed W exactly how I felt with the intense, almost bruising pressure of my lips on her own. My own hands snaked around her waist and roamed over her clothed body. As I felt nothing but maddening silk beneath my fingers, I felt a rising anger flow through my body. How desperately I wanted my fingers to roam over her naked flesh! Mere seconds later I felt her knees buckle and we both tumbled into the cushioned oriental-type sofa that sat behind us. I found myself lying a top her body, my weight pressing her back into the cushions, faces still just as close as they had been when we were kissing. Her eyes were glazed over with what I realised was desire and I knew she needed me right where my thigh was now pressed between her legs. I thrust forward experimentally, pressing my weight directly at the apex of her thighs beneath all that fabric. I heard a sharp intake of breath and saw her eyes close as her head tilted back. A small smile crossed my face at the thought of the power I possessed over her; just a slight shifting of my weight was enough to draw low moans from the back of her throat. I then buried my face in her neck as I continued to move against her body, sucking gently on the sweet skin I found there. Keeping my body moving, I moved my lips over her jaw line and found the creamy skin covering her shoulder blades. The fabric of her evening gown then barred further descent but, after a pause to collect my wits, I tugged it down over her shoulders with both hands, feeling a delicious shiver of wanton desire course through my body as my eyes feasted on her breasts for the first time. I hesitantly reached out to touch them with just the mere tips of my fingers. As soon as my skin came into contact with her breasts we both gasped at precisely the same moment. While I cannot say why the sound emerged from W's throat, I gasped because I had never imagined touching skin so smooth. As I ran my fingertips over her small but perfectly formed breasts, I thought that perhaps I was touching silk rather than flesh. I had been avoiding touching the darkened area of skin at the centre where her tiny nipples nestled. While I do not want to describe my exploration of her breasts as an experiment, I nevertheless felt as though that was exactly what I was doing. Everything was a new experience, from her nipples hardening beneath my ministrations to the way she tasted when I took her flesh into my mouth. As my tongue rolled over her budded nipple, I heard her gasp my name. Emboldened, I increased the pace of my attentions until I was tasting as much of her as I could. My hands left her shoulders as I felt her quiver beneath me touch. I knew I wanted to give her more.
I proceeded purely by instinct. Of course I had no experience of touching a woman's body other than my own and even then it was only in the most perfunctory manner, with none of the lingering caresses I now laid on W's flesh. My hands moved downwards, seeking the heat between her legs. With a rush of feverish excitement, I cupped the small mound I found there.
"Oh god, Tara...please!" she breathed through her teeth.
I could barely hear her whisper but it did not matter, I knew instinctively what she sought. Trembling, I grasped a handful of silken gown and drew it upwards to expose the pale legs beneath. I ran my hands over her calves and knees, private places that no unmarried women of good breeding would allow a lover to stroke. I continued to move her gown up her body until it lay bunched around her hips. Feeling like a simpleton, I fumbled at the tie on her drawers and it seemed to take forever to loosen. I was not surprised when W's hands moved with mine to remove her cumbersome undergarments. In moments, after the offending garment was tossed aside, I was left frozen with fear as she lay bare before me. Nestled between her pale, white thighs I was presented with a view of her sex, as mysterious as it was. I suppose it appeared to be much the same as my own, if I ever could look at it from such an angle, except that it was covered in a fine layer of red hair as opposed to honey brown.
Given my close proximity to her, I could smell an inviting scent that was rich and warm. As I came to the realisation that it was hers and hers alone, I was struck by the sudden desire to drink it in, to taste it as though it were some nectar that I had to imbibe to survive. I shifted my weight on the couch, moving down so I could lie between her legs and, as an opening move, press my nose against her downy hair. I inhaled deeply for the first time and felt a rush to my head that had little to do with breathing and everything to do with the intoxicating aroma of her.
Tentatively I nuzzled my nose against her mound and I heard her gasp above me just as I felt her thrust her hips upwards. With her movement I suddenly found my nose buried within the slit of her folds and I was forced to inhale even more deeply of her. I heard the breathing issue forth hoarse and fast from her throat almost as though she were running.
"Taste me...please," she whimpered desperately as I felt her run a trembling hand through my hair.
My tongue flicked out, again tentatively until I tasted of her fully and realised just how sweet she was. Any hesitation on my part disappeared and I eagerly explored the slick folds that lay beneath her red hair, no longer hidden to me. As my tongue passed over the nub of her clitoris, I heard a groan tear itself from her throat. I explored that tiny mound of flesh and was rewarded with the sound of further groaning. I sinfully decided that I enjoyed such sounds immensely and made it my silent promise to elicit as many as I could. It must have been agreeable to W also as she grasped my head with both hands, keeping my attention fixed in place. As I rolled the flesh about with my tongue, alternating it with firm strokes, her hips began to buck upwards, pushing her sex against my face with each stroke. In order to avoid being thrown off by her wild movements, I locked my arms around her thighs in a firm grip. Sounds continued to come from her throat, some sounding as though they came from her very gut, while others were almost silent, just slight whimpers that barely exited her throat. Sometimes her lips formed actual words, mostly my name spoken in a variety of tones...sometimes words of encouragement. In more urgent tones she spoke of needing release, although at that point I did not realise what she needed.
Several minutes later I realised, when my chin was coated in a layer of her warm juice and nothing but insistent, incoherent sounds came from her mouth. Her hips thrust upwards against my face one last time, her bottom remaining off the couch as she froze in that position while what she called her 'release' came. I did not stop the movement of my tongue. Although I had begun to feel a decided ache in my jaw, I kept up a steady pace, barely breathing through my nose. Her sex trembled beneath my lips and a hot flood from within her body coursed over my lips. As I was drinking greedily she begged me to stop. I glanced up to find her pressed back against the armrest of the couch, her eyes closed and naked chest heaving. There was a red flush spreading across her cheeks and I thought perhaps I had harmed her in some way. In a fearful voice I inquired after her health and was relieved to hear her manage a weak laugh.
"Dearest Tara," she whispered, "Come here."
She motioned me forward and I laid the length of her body. She did not seem to mind my weight pressing down on her. Then she claimed my lips once again, no doubt tasting deeply the taste of her own sex that covered them. We broke off the kiss, both quite breathless and I settled for propping myself up on an elbow so that I might study her beautiful face, flushed as it was.
"It seems as if I have corrupted you, Miss Maclay," she murmured through what seemed like a haze of pleasure, her eyes were half-lidded and her voice was slightly breathless.
"Nothing of the sort," I replied, my own voice tinged with exhaustion after what had been rather frenetic and extremely satisfying exertion, "I could have managed a polite exit as soon as you announced your less than honourable intentions."
"Ah," W sighed with a saucy wink, "But then I would have contrived to keep you here by some virtue of my wit or beauty, perhaps even sinking so low as to force a kiss upon you and bewitch you with my lips."
I could not help but smile, the thought that this elegant creature draped over the couch beneath me might do everything in her power to keep me close served to keep my heart beating as strongly as it had a few moments earlier. I deposited another kiss on her already swollen lips to prove that she did not have to force anything on me.
"I think that this couch is doing something dreadful to my back," W moistened her lips with her tongue as I moved away, "We should perhaps retire upstairs to my rooms?"
Other than the gleam in her eye that led me to believe she had things on her mind other than sleep, I needed no persuading to follow her. What an outrageous sight we would have made, two ladies with their gowns in disarray making very awkward progress up the stairs. We paused at every opportunity to force each other back against the wall and engage in yet another bout of furious kissing.
I could write much more about the remainder of the evening but with my love lying scant inches from me right this moment, I can stand it no longer. I must have her hands on my body now ...and we have such little time available to us before I must return home and face my life and all that it entails...
I think that perhaps by committing this evidence of our love to paper, I am coming as close as I dare to admitting it to the world. Although I think I would die if anyone were to read these words, perhaps another part of me would feel a delicious thrill at having our love be known.
Willow slapped the diary shut in a rather determined act of finality and practically shoved it beneath her pillow. She backed away from her bed as though it could watch her back until her back hit her dresser. When she turned she found a red-checked face staring back at her. She poured cold water from the pitcher into the bowl and splashed liberal amounts on her face, at a complete loss to explain the flushed sensations coursing throughout her body after reading that particular passage in the diary.
It's just letters on a page for heaven's sake, letters that make up words, words that carry important information, scholarly learning imparted for the benefit of future generations...like Plato or Herodotus... although they did write in Greek and the diary is in English...bad, bad, naughty English!
Willow scrubbed the skin on her face until it was tingling all over, even redder with the combination of scrubbing and the icy water. She felt a wave of indignation wash over her that the same letters that Shakespeare used were also used in such a crude and frustrating manner. Her clothes were pulled on in much the same frame of mind, each item was tugged on mercilessly and without a care that her shirt had not been ironed for the past week.
She continued to seethe throughout her journey to work, her thoughts only broken when she berated herself for forgetting to put on her coat. It was therefore a rather blue-lipped Willow who arrived at the British Museum sometime later. Even as she moved through the familiar and usually comforting halls she could not clear her mind. The words from the diary were stamped into her eyeballs and kept reciting themselves over and over in her mind as though they were a memory, and not just something she had read.
This is ridiculous, Willow thought in exasperation, I'm remembering making love to a beautiful woman like it was yesterday...and I did no such thing, nor am I likely to do such a thing in the near future, if ever...and here comes Faith, capital...just capital, okay, try and look as sane as possible...
Her best friend had paused in the corridor up ahead, lying in wait as Willow approached.
Knowing Willow as well as she did, Faith immediately noticed that something was not quite right with her. The redheaded young woman appeared decidedly anxious and her cheeks were stained with a hot rush flush despite the cool air outside. Faith narrowed her eyes and moved quickly to cut Willow off even as she attempted to move past her with just a curt nod. Her flustered actions only served to add fuel to Faith's curiosity.
"Morning, Will," Faith started off simply, "How's business?"
"Fine," Willow muttered, ducking her head, "I'm on my way to the library to do some research on Van Helsing...so if you don't mind..."
When Willow managed to brush past her, Faith whirled and caught her by the strap of her satchel and yanked her backwards. A rather grumpy-looking Willow allowed herself to be halted, but kept her gaze downwards.
"What game are you playing at?" Faith demanded, "I've known you to become a little weird and obsessive while carrying out research...but never before has it driven you to the point of rudeness...too busy to stop and have a morning chat with me? Okay, granted I'm usually not the best conversationalist in the morning but I'm still me and unless something has changed overnight, I'm still your best friend."
Willow looked up suddenly with an expression approaching mortification, "I wasn't being rude...I get distracted a lot and ignore people and I will admit that I'm absent-minded sometimes, but never rude...it's just that..."
Willow stopped. Even though Faith was her best friend and more like family that her own parents, she could not bring herself to explain the way the passage in the diary had made her feel. The passage itself had been so private and personal that she felt ashamed for reading it, not to mention the strange manner in which it had instilled itself in her own consciousness. To share such matters with Faith would be entering into a territory she was not prepared to go...and it was embarrassing beyond words.
"It's just that I'm not feeling...quite myself," Willow managed to explain herself without telling an outright lie, "I just need to read something and clear my head."
Faith chuckled, "Most people would not class reading something as the best cure for clearing heads...but coming from you, I think can understand it...you are alright aren't you?"
Willow managed a tight-lipped smile of her own and a quick nod, "Yes, all with the fine here...I promise."
Faith cocked her head slightly to one side as though she were studying Willow closely, "You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"
Willow nodded again, a little too quickly this time, "Of course...and I'll let you know if I find out more about Van Helsing."
As Faith watched Willow walk down the corridor in the direction of the Museum's library, she had to suppress the urge to follow her. Lara's concerns regarding the young woman had now become her own. Whatever Willow had just said, Faith felt that something serious was going on in Willow's life...or at least was about to and she needed to be there to protect her in the face of whatever it was.
With a wall of books piled around her as if to resemble a sturdy rampart, Willow felt somewhat safer. She managed to fill her head with biographical details of the life of Abraham Van Helsing. For the most part, it made for exceptionally dull reading. The man seemed to have spent at least fifty years of his life stuck behind a desk writing articles on best museum practice and personally overseeing every square inch of the massive organisation. There was very little information on his personal life, although from what Willow could read between the lines, he appeared not to have had any living family.
Even for one who enjoyed research as much as Willow, the task was turning out to be extremely unfruitful. She was about to call quits on her search when she suddenly jumped at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. As her heart rate calmed, she glanced over her shoulder to see Giles standing over her.
"Giles, why are you venturing out of your workshop?" Willow inquired, relieved to be distracted.
"Well I am known to do that from time to time, Willow," he responded warmly, glancing down at the heavy tome she was reading, "Van Helsing? Any particular reason for looking up the old coot?"
"I am beginning to think not," Willow closed the book, sneezing in the resulting clouds of dust that were thrown up, "I found a reference to a 'W. Van Helsing' in the library catalogue that Faith found at Tirgsor and was hoping to find out who that might be...the date of deposit suggests that it whoever it was would have been a contemporary of Abraham's...but not family I think, I can't see that he had any."
"Interesting," Giles replied a little vaguely.
"And there's barely anything at all on his early life, he makes a few references to his military career in later writings, and I believe at one stage he may have been posted to India...it is honestly quite maddening."
"Well, that would be Abe for you."
Willow glanced back up at Giles following his rather odd comment, "Giles...you speak as if you knew him? I know you're old...but I also know you're not that old."
"Ah, well now of course not...." Giles was so flustered that he did not even pick up on Willow's good-natured ribbing, he recovered quickly however, "But I have done a bit of research myself, he did have some interesting ideas."
Willow snorted and pushed back her chair, "I wouldn't choose that word exactly."
"What word?" Giles asked with a slight frown.
"Interesting," Willow replied promptly, "he's nothing of the sort."
"I think you may be surprised if you do a little digging," Giles suggested.
Willow rose to her feet and stretched with a wide yawn, "I honestly don't think there's any point...it's a dead end to a side topic that I should waste no more time on, especially not while I have real work to do."
"Willow Rosenberg!" Giles suddenly snapped, "Do you not remember anything I taught you? Did I teach you to give up as soon as something became too difficult for you?"
"No," Willow replied, somewhat taken aback by her mentor's sudden outburst, "You encouraged me to persevere with everything...you think I should..."
"I don't think you should do anything, Willow," Giles turned to make his way out of the library, he cast one last glance back over his shoulder, "However, if I might make a suggestion, I believe Hampshire would be a good place to continue your search."
Before Willow could interrogate Giles as to his sudden interest in her work, he disappeared through the large doors that led out into the museum proper. Willow couldn't bring herself to do something as unseemly as run through the library to catch up to him. Instead she stood rooted to the same spot with a puzzled expression on her face. She already thoroughly disliked the idea of having to leave London. Going alone was out of the question, she'd have to twist Faith's arm to get her to come along.
The sun had long since disappeared below the horizon. The curtains were drawn in Lara Croft's office, only the golden glow of a single lamp served to bring light to the room and it failed to reach to the spaces of the cavernous ceiling. Much of the room was shrouded in shadow save the desk space around the lamp where Lara worked, head bent over several pages in front of her. Long, delicate fingers grasped a fountain pen, it was currently poised above the page as she read the lines already written. Her brow furrowed gently before she continued writing with strokes of precision. Lara wrote non-stop for the better part of ten minutes before she glanced up suddenly at the sound of her door latch being rattled. As the door swung inwards, Lara set the pen down. There was no trace of surprise on her face when she saw who it was. Just as she was the only person who would dare put her feet up on Lara's desk, Faith was also the only person who would enter without bothering to knock.
Faith was not wearing her scarlet jacket, jut a plain white shirt and a pair of man's trousers tucked into riding boots. Her roughly bound hair was escaping around her face and down her neck as though she had been engaged in some sort of wild exertion. She paused to lean against the bookshelves behind her, arms folded brazenly across her chest.
"In all my years in this business, I have never had a more insubordinate employee," Lara remarked, leaning back in her hair and calmly regarding the young woman standing in front of her.
Obviously this comment pleased Faith immensely as she smiled broadly. She straightened up and let her arms fall to her side as she sauntered across the space between the door and the desk. Faith planted both palms face down on the desk. She leaned inwards, over the desk and towards Lara with the smile still fixed on her face.
"Have you had a chance to read my report yet?" Faith asked, although the tone of her voice was clearly not meant for such a mundane question.
Lara saw straight through Faith's question as a small smile played across her lips. She rose slowly from her chair, obviously she had been sitting for some hours and her bad leg had stiffened. With Faith looking on with a hungry gaze, Lara moved around the table, past Faith and to the settee which was tucked against the bookshelves on the far side of the office. Leaning back against its elevated headrest, she swung her leg up with a small sigh.
As Faith shifted slightly so she could face Lara she saw the elegant brunette tug back her skirts and petticoats to reveal a pale but lithe leg, terribly marred by a series of brutal scars. She also saw a look on Lara's face that she had never seen before, one of anguish and disgust.
When Lara glanced back up towards Faith, the look was gone, erased as though it had never been there in the first place.
"I've faced stone statues that come to life, more daemon hounds than I care to remember, vampires, zombies, werewolves, flying demons, subterranean demons...dozens of demons all at once...and the only creature that's ever come close to killing me was a bloody crocodile in Australia...and I found myself lying on a wooden table in the middle of nowhere with a knife pressed to the throat of the only doctor for miles around, I swore I'd slit his throat if he cut my leg off."
"Well...you still have your leg so I guess he's still breathing?" Faith could think of nothing else to say.
"Lucky for both of us," Lara commented wryly, she made to pull her skirts back over the scars, "Sorry...I don't usually..."
Faith was across the floor before Lara could continue her apology. She found no further need for one as she Faith's warm lips closed in upon her own. Lara lifted her head slightly to meet her and within a few moments the two women were locked in a languorous embrace. Lara was only dimly aware of her hands stroking Faith's back through the fabric of her shirt as she lost herself to the emotions she felt coursing through her body. It was not merely months, but years of pent up frustration that was released in the steaming hot breath escaping from her pressed lips.
When Faith's hand moved beneath her skirts and continued to worm its warm up her leg, beneath her drawers, Lara encouraged her with a slight shifting of weight in her hips. While she had not intended the movement to come across as a blatant thrust against Faith's hand, that was nevertheless how Faith perceived it. The brunette laughed lightly in her ear, a rush of warm breath that sent her extremities into a tingling frenzy. The frenzy spread across her entire body as Faith's fingers found what they had been searching for, eagerly delving into the warm folds between her legs. The thrusting motion of her hips was no longer a subtle shifting of weight as she began to move against the firm stroking motions of Faith's fingers.
Faith then slipped one arm beneath Lara's neck to support herself, the unused fingers of that hand curling around to brush against Lara's cheek. Lara found herself leaning into that touch, even taking Faith's fingers in her mouth as the pace increased. A small cry escaped her lips as the index finger of her other hand slipped past the already quite moist folds. The cries did not abate as Faith thrust gently upwards until her finger was buried as deeply as possible and her palm jammed firmly against the clit beneath it.
"Do you want this?" she heard Faith whispered in her ear.
The question was redundant. As Lara felt Faith begin to move her hips in time with the thrusting motion of her hand she knew there was only one conclusion that they could possibly reach...and that required Faith continuing exactly what she was doing. To ensure she did not stop or move away Lara wrapped both legs around Faith's back. That action was apparently all the answer that Faith needed as she increased the pace of her thrusting, her hips surging forward with each stroke. She buried her face in Lara's neck as she moved, filling her ears with the regular intensity of her breathing.
Faith's movements took Lara to a place she had not been in a long time, that foggy haze of pleasure where one could get lost forever or drown completely. As she allowed herself to be drawn even further into the world that just the two of them shared, she heard herself whisper the brunette's name fiercely, like an oath. Faith was making sounds of her own, they could have possibly been words or grunts of exertion, whatever they were they did not make any sense in the midst of the pleasant haze in Lara's mind. She felt Faith's body move against her own, the way the muscles rippled beneath her shirt, and the feel of not one but two fingers thrust inside her. They moved easily through the slick folds, each time seeming to move deeper and hit a new spot that felt even more pleasurable if that were possible. She was also aware of Faith's palm moving firmly against her clit, almost roughly stroking the hard little nubbin of flesh in time with her thrusting.
Although Lara knew that little time had passed, the frenzy of Faith's movements and her own pent-up need guaranteed that her orgasm came swiftly. When it did, she arched her back and tried to stifle the cries bursting from her lips as she knew Cordelia would no doubt be behind her desk just on the other side of the door. Faith was there to quickly smother the cries with her lips, continuing to move even as Lara's body bucked beneath her weight. She felt the walls of her cunt spasm around the fingers that moved within. For one intense, drawn-out moment, her world imploded and was reduced to two bodies struggling against one another. Faith's fiercely thrusting body was contained within her own sweaty thighs. As she rode out the violent orgasm, she found herself instinctively squeezing Faith's body as though it were a lifeline.
When the moment was over she felt drained and her thighs slipped from their position, one falling to rest against the back of the couch while the other protruded out over the edge as she rested her foot on the floor. For the first time she was aware of just how heavy Faith was as she lay across her body, the majority of her weight now resting on her middle. Faith's talented hand still lay within the puddle that was her cunt, she felt the seat of her drawers to be damp with spilt juices and in a moment of silliness she worried that the couch may have been stained as a result of their impromptu lovemaking.
Such thoughts of dirty upholstery were banished a moment later as Faith resumed the lazy kiss that had been interrupted by even more sinful pleasures. It was a tired but intimate exploration of lips, ending with Faith nuzzling against Lara's nose in a tender expression that seemed completely at odds with her boisterous personality. She smiled before nestling her cheek against Lara's chest, no doubt listening as the rapidly beating organ gradually slowed. Other residues of their lovemaking remained, a pleasant musky, sweaty smell hung in the air while Faith's hand remained nestled between Lara's legs.
Neither felt the need for any conversation for almost ten minutes until Lara spoke just as Faith was drifting into a pleasant waking dream.
"Have any developments been made regarding the information you collected in Tirgsor?" Lara whispered.
Lara tried to remove all traces sensuality from her voice but with Faith's warm, weight lying across her body, this was not quite successful. As a result, her words came out with less weight than she would have ordinarily given to such a matter of importance.
"You speak of business at a time like this?" Faith glanced up at the woman's face, her chin brushing Lara's, "Truly woman, you are preoccupied beyond all reason...or am I not as intoxicating as I have always led myself to believe?"
Lara laughed, a brief throaty sound, "You are that...and more, but always at the back of my mind is the knowledge that there are matters of great concern lurking in the world, matters that I must deal with...that I must send my people out into the world to deal with."
"Has this got something to do with Rosenberg?" Faith asked quietly, turning away from Lara's distracted gaze and resting her head in the crook of her shoulder.
"Perhaps," Lara replied evasively.
"Care to enlighten me?" Faith asked, even though she already knew the answer...and she did not expect favours just because she had Lara had all of a sudden become more intimate than their relationship should have allowed.
"You will soon realise that being my lover admits you only so far into my confidence," there was a distinct note of reluctance to Lara's sigh.
Faith raised her eyebrows, "So I'm your lover now?"
Lara's lips curled up into a small smile, "Officially I am as cold and frigid as the Arctic seas...unofficially, I am yours...as little as there is of me to give."
Faith rolled over within Lara's arms and propped herself up so she could work at the buttons one the front of her employer's dress.
With several deft movements she had the garment open to just above Lara's navel. The chemise in her path was then rather savagely ripped open by her powerful grip to finally bare Lara's breasts. The magnificent appendages rose rhythmically with Lara's still heavy breathing. A few bubbles of sweat lay nestled in her cleavage.
"I wouldn't say there is 'little' of you at all," Faith whispered as she ducked her head to take the nearest parcel of flesh into her mouth.