Fanchon's Book(26)

"Fanchon, isn't it about time you quit stalling? All I could manage was an inarticulate whimper. I didn't stop kissing, though. But neither could I cast out the sense of dread that made me shirk my task (and I did so much want to please her!) and go on shunning the unwholesome caress. Would she demand it? Was she really such a depraved little animal?

"Listen, lover girl, I'm not forcing you. But that tongue of yours is only tickling me and I don't feel like laughing. I've got a sensitive spot there-and I do mean sensitive-so if you're going to do it, do it right." I jerked my head away, piqued that she should channel her own frustration into a disparaging rebuke of me. "Uh-huh, sure, you're sensitive," I said chidingly, "but what you're asking for is sensual, don't you realize that? You're a sensual creature."

And immediately I could have bitten my tongue off, the same tongue that had been criticized for its failure to please. I had spoken in childish retaliation, but the words still rang with rancor. Stupid of me, slipping out of character like that, dissipating the erotic mood; whatever the provocation, I should have known better. "Me? Sensual?" She swung around and sat up, her expression grim. Then, dispassionately, with a shrug, "Hmm, maybe I am. Sensual. Let's find out."

"Huh? Miss Kristi?"

But she paid no attention to me. Without even a glance, she left me and strode to the big closet-door mirror; nearing it, her steps turned mincing, her body began weaving, almost dancing, an undulant sway-a come-on? It had to be. She made no protest as I sidled toward her. As if she had known beforehand that I would take the lure. Not until I sank to my knees in front of her did she acknowledge my presence, and then it was only with a single jutting movement, crude, angular, trenchant, abruptly at odds with the flowing dance: a lewd thrust of her pelvis.

Right into my face.

After that I couldn't tell if she was still dancing or even swaying; I had waited so long for this and now it was mine, mine, all of the engulfing succulence, and I drowned myself in its wet warmth and would have followed it to the ends of the"Fanchon!"

"Mmm?"

"Look. There." She rapped my head. "In the mirror."

I got one eye open in the right direction. A blur but I could still see enough. A crouching woman. Sucking. A slim young girl. Getting sucked. A monstrous picture, but oh, what a thrill! and I couldn't stop looking and I couldn't stop sucking and I couldn't stop loving the girl and loving the woman too: they were so exciting like that, together, a oneness, so sexy!

"Can you see yourself, Fanchon?"

"Ummm… "

"Answer me!"

"Uh… yes… yes, Miss Kristi."

"No, don't call me that. We're not acting, we're not mistress and maid now, we're just two women. Sensual women. Look at yourself. Look! Aren't you sensual?"

"Umm, yes… sensual."

"See for yourself what you are. Oh, such a sensual bitch. Isn't that right, Fanchon, aren't you a sensual bitch? Come on, lick me, lap me, suck me… " And she kept saying it over and over again, but then I had nothing to lick or lap or suck because she was whirling around and-"lick me, lap me, suck me," again and again, her hands behind her back now, cupping my burning cheeks, pulling me into her flesh but not all the way, no, I had to close the gap myself as her hands left me and gripped the separate halves of her buttocks and opened the path.

"Your tongue, Fanchon. I want your tongue."

I gave it to her. I would have begged her to take it.