Chapter Eleven #2
Why not? Um, where to start. But maybe that’s just fear talking. She’s lived most of her life in fear. Fear of letting down her parents. Fear of failing. But failing at what? She realizes she’s never taken the time to know what she actually wants out of life. And so really, she’s failed herself.
“Okay,” she says. But only if you leave the room. And I mean it—I want to hear the door close and you have to talk to me from the other side so I know you’re out there.”
“How can you experience being observed if I’m not here to observe you, silly?” Bette says. “Here, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll turn around.”
Not persuaded, Mallory doesn’t move. She hears Bette sigh.
“If you wanted to just wallow on a couch all night you might as well have gone to your friend’s place.”
She’d tried. They weren’t available. And incredibly, she wound up here. Maybe the universe is trying to tell her something.
“And really, I don’t see what you’re so afraid of,” Bette says. “It’s not like I don’t have tits of my own. Great ones, if I don’t say so myself.”
Mallory can’t argue with her there.
“Besides,” she continues. “I already saw you half naked in the dressing room at La Petite Coquette. So just humor me and take off your shirt. Or do you want me to do it for you?”
The question makes her stomach do a tiny flip. And Bette, as if sensing it, begins unbuttoning her blouse.
“I like this shirt,” Bette says. “Where’s it from?”
“Thomas Pink,” Mallory says, a whisper.
She feels cool air on her skin, her shirt now fully unbuttoned. Bette moves behind her and eases it off her shoulders. She traces her fingers down Mallory’s spine, then up again, pausing to unhook her bra. Mallory considers stopping her: She has a boyfriend.
A boyfriend who’s been asking her to hook up with a woman for his own amusement. Well, what about her desires? Her own curiosity?
Her bra falls to the floor, and Bette tugs off her blindfold.
“Now look at yourself,” Bette says. Mallory opens her eyes, gazing straight ahead into the mirror.
But she can’t look at herself—she’ll lose her nerve.
Instead, she focuses on Bette, who is now topless.
Mallory has seen her naked breasts twice already, but it’s as if she’s seeing her for the first time.
“Don’t look at me! See how beautiful you are?”
And then she reaches around and cups Mallory’s breasts. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Mallory feels something electric pulse through the center of her.
Bette brushes her fingers across Mallory’s nipples, bringing them to a point. She presses her own breasts against Mallory’s back, and Mallory is instantly wet.
“Turn around,” Bette whispers, her breath warm on her neck.
Mallory complies and Bette presses her mouth against Mallory’s.
At first she’s surprised, but then she eagerly opens her mouth and realizes that she’s been, on some level, imagining this moment since that first butterfly kiss at the Boom Boom Room.
Bette pulls her onto the bed, easing off Mallory’s skirt and then her own jeans. Mallory feels a pang of anxiety. Is she supposed to touch her? If so where—how? She’s lost. All these years of being fucked by men, and she has no idea what to do with a woman.
“Just be still,” Bette says, as if reading her mind.
Mallory lies back, and Bette once again bends her mouth to Mallory’s breast. Her lips are soft and she’s aware of how warm her mouth is—it feels different than with a guy.
Bette runs her tongue over her nipple, then bites her lightly, her hands roaming the inside of Mallory’s thighs.
Mallory arches her pelvis, shocked at how much she wants Bette’s fingers inside her.
Bette moves her mouth down Mallory’s stomach, kissing and licking her. Mallory arches her back, her hands in Bette’s hair. She feels Bette’s mouth approach her pussy, and it makes her tense. But why should she be nervous? Bette’s a woman, too.
And then Bette’s tongue brushes over her clit, moving lower until she finds the spot to push her tongue deep inside. Mallory cries out, arching her back and pulling Bette’s head closer. Bette moves her mouth back to Mallory’s clit, working one finger in and out.
“Oh my god,” Mallory says, feeling her pussy clench against Bette’s finger in a rhythm that make her whole body tremble.
Bette moves back up to lie lengthwise alongside Mallory, the steady movement of her hand not missing a beat.
Mallory kisses Bette’s mouth, licking her full lips, tasting herself on this strange and beautiful woman.
When Mallory reaches a climax, Bette brushes her hand gently along the outside of her pussy, kissing her breasts.
“What do you want me to do?” Mallory says when she’s able to find her voice.
Bette smiles at her, her fingers languidly tracing her thigh.
“Why don’t you just watch me?”
“Really?”
“Yes. You know I like putting on a good show.”
With that, Bette stretches out next to her, spreading her legs.
Mallory isn’t entirely comfortable being a voyeur, but she knows it’s what Bette wants, so she keeps her eyes on her.
Bette cups her own breast with her left hand and sucks on the middle finger of her right, then rubs it on her engorged clit.
To her surprise, Mallory feels herself getting aroused all over again.
“I changed my mind,” Bette says, her fingers still working on herself. “I want you to touch me.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Mallory says.
“Lay next to me.”
Mallory moves across the bed and presses her body against Bette’s.
They kiss, their mouths wide and hungry for each other, and Mallory allows herself to use one hand to explore the wetness between Bette’s legs.
Bette reaches down and presses it firmly against her pussy, and Mallory gingerly slips a finger inside her.
“Yes,” Bette breathes, and Mallory’s stomach does a tiny flip. Bette guides her hand, urging it forward to massage her clit, then nudging back to her center. Mallory slides her finger in and out, and feels Bette pulsate. Mallory wonders if this is what Alec feels when he’s touching her.
Bette climaxes with a shudder. Then she reaches for her hand and guides it toward Mallory’s own mouth.
They lock eyes, and Mallory understands that Bette wants her to taste her.
She hesitates just for a second, then licks Bette’s stickiness from her fingers.
Bette sits up, taking hold of her face and kissing her deeply, then pulls her down to lie beside her against her pillows.
Bette turns, looking at her with a devilish smile. “I hope you’re feeling more relaxed.”
“I’m a little freaked out,” Mallory confesses, her head resting against Bette’s shoulder.
She can feel the rise and fall of Bette’s chest as she breathes, and she’s more surprised by this particular intimacy than by the sex.
The first time she saw Bette, she seemed like an almost otherworldly creature. And now she’s beside her naked in bed.
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“Well, yes. That. And because I haven’t been with anyone except for Alec in years.”
Alec. The resentment-fueled bravado she’d felt just minutes ago is gone.
Bette nods, then props up on one elbow.
“Listen, it’s not my business. But men have fragile egos. Do yourself a favor and don’t tell him about tonight.”
Mallory shakes her head. “I can’t just keep something like this from him. That makes it like I cheated him or something.”
“I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but he most certainly will see this as cheating on him.”
Her stomach feels like she just did a drop on a roller coaster.
“No, he won’t! He wanted me to sleep with you.”
“Yeah—with him there. I see your logic, but trust me, you will not get a free pass because of that.”
“Oh my god.” Bette’s right.
“Blame it on the vodka,” Bette says. “Do you have any Russian in you? I mean, aside from when I’m fucking you …”
“Bette, don’t joke. This is serious. I love Alec. I don’t want to lose him. I think I should just deal with the fight we had tonight, work through that, and then when things are more stable between us, tell him that I kind of hooked up with you.”
“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
They both stare up at the ceiling.
“You’re really hot, by the way,” Bette says, rolling over and kissing her cheek. “I’m gonna take a shower and get some sleep. I have a costume fitting with Agnes at noon. But you’re welcome to stay. I can make up the couch. I’m not great at sharing a bed.”
“The couch would be great,” Mallory says, knowing full well she won’t sleep a wink.