Chapter Two
Allie Chen was tracing the chain of events that had brought her here. Here being a bathroom stall at a college friend’s wedding in Big Sur, California, where she was kissing Barra Jones.
It was imperative she remembered every detail since she would, at some point, need to relay this story to her book club, who wouldn’t believe her unless she narrated the entire thing as completely and with as much sensory detail as in the books they never actually read.
It had all started with cocktail hour. That awkward interlude while the brides were off taking photos, and the rest of the guests were wandering about pretending they knew what to do with themselves. Allie liked cocktail hour for one reason only, and that was to quench her thirst.
She’d liberated a glass of Sancerre from a passing tray. Two sips in, and she’d tripped over a tuft of grass and baptized the earth with the French Sauvignon Blanc. Somewhere between “oops, I hope no one saw that” and “holy hell, I’m so clumsy” she had ended up at the bar.
And that was where she’d met Barra.
Things had escalated quickly from then on.
Food. Speeches. Lots of eye contact. Allie, who’d been told on several occasions that she was too touchy-feely, had more than once overstepped Barra’s personal space.
If the woman minded, she didn’t say, which was how they’d ended up on the dance floor.
They’d twirled through Dancing Queen, spinning while their arms flailed, and the string lights made everything feel like a music video.
Then Shut Up and Dance had started, and Allie had dashed off for drinks—two margaritas.
One of which had ended up all over Barra’s dress as Allie bumped shoulders with the MC, who was ridiculously drunk.
She’d apologized profusely and then offered to help, which Barra had declined.
Though that hadn’t quite stopped Allie, who was already too many drinks in.
She’d followed Barra to the bathroom, and then handed her tufts of damp tissues.
Somewhere between blotting citrus off silk and offering unhelpful stain removal advice, Barra’s thin strap had slipped.
Allie had fixed it. Just a little lift. A tug.
Nothing significant. And yet, the next thing she knew, Barra’s hands were on her hips, steering her backward into a bathroom stall.
“I don’t usually do this,” Barra said, then slipped her tongue into Allie’s mouth.
Right, Allie thought. Not that she minded.
She, on the other hand, had a long, thriving habit of kissing women at weddings.
And at gallery openings, where networking was essential.
At charity auctions. And at the dimly lit bar called La Sirena, which was tucked behind a florist in Melrose, where she spent a considerable amount of time.
Allie had, on more than one occasion, fucked someone in the red-walled bathroom stall.
So this entire situation felt quite normal.
“I can’t believe you won Outlast Her,” Allie said, pulling her mouth back just a little.
Barra’s lips tasted like bourbon. Her skin smelled faintly like flowers.
She wasn’t sure why she was bringing up Outlast Her, especially since kissing involved minimal talking, but there was something fateful about this moment.
It was a perfect happening through chance.
Allie had applied for Outlast Her Season Six, and she’d gotten rejected.
Maybe Barra was her way in for Season Seven.
Not that this was ever her intention in the first place.
Not at all. Barra was hot. Smoking hot. Allie had spotted her during the ceremony.
There was something so forlorn about the way she’d stared at the brides that it had tugged Allie’s heartstrings.
She loved people who showed emotion. And besides, weddings always made Allie ridiculously horny.
This was more than likely to happen anyway.
“Sometimes I can’t either,” Barra replied, her mouth brushing Allie’s jaw. Her hands bunched up the satin fabric of Allie’s dress to her hips. “It’s probably because I haven’t really let it change my life.”
Allie couldn’t imagine not letting a million dollars change her life, but then again, she loved nice things, expensive things. “I’ve been weirdly obsessed with Outlast Her,” she admitted. Though it wasn’t quite the truth.
It wasn’t the show she was obsessed with, but the opportunity to make a point. A deeply satisfying, extremely petty point.
All because Kim, her best friend and president of the book club, had declared that Allie wouldn’t make it past day two before quitting.
Because Angelica had called her a princess who couldn’t survive the night without a king-sized bed and goose-feather pillows.
And because Missy had blinked at her over a glass of bubbles and asked, with genuine curiosity, when Allie had last been on a beach that wasn’t attached to a member’s club.
The only one who had even the slightest flicker of faith was Amelia.
She’d squeezed Allie’s hand across the table and said, very calmly, “You’re stubborn enough to outlast anyone. ”
The truth was Allie’s life was air-conditioned.
Curated. Full of expensive dinners and delicate gold bracelets from Anita Ko and glass-bottled oils from Augustinus Bader.
She spent a considerable amount of time in the air-conditioned indoors of the gallery she owned—Arclight Gallery in Silver Lake—and got her groceries delivered from Erewhon and her hair blown out once weekly at Tesler Salon.
Her clothes were always designer, and the very pillow on which she placed her head at night was made from the softest goose down ever.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t rough it. In fact, she was so determined to prove the book club girls wrong she’d do anything to get on Outlast Her.
Barra’s fingers slid along the zipper at the small of Allie’s back. She didn’t pull it down. She simply traced the metal teeth slowly enough to make Allie feel each tiny movement.
“I actually applied for Season Six,” Allie said, not sure why she was still speaking.
Barra’s palm flattened against her back and drew her even closer.
Close enough until there was no polite space left between them.
She could even feel Barra’s nipples peak against hers and wanted nothing more than to slip off her dress and nibble them between her teeth.
Yet, the words continued to tumble out. “I made it to the interview and then... nothing.” She’d felt entirely humiliated when they’d sent her the rejection email.
We regret to inform you... As if Allie, who had survived the severest forms of critique at Rhode Island School of Design, then finished a business degree at USC and now ran three thriving galleries across Los Angeles, couldn’t make the cut for a reality show.
If she wasn’t interesting enough, then who the hell was?
“I can get you on the show,” Barra murmured. She leaned closer and then brushed her mouth just behind Allie’s ear before she bit lightly at the sensitive spot beneath it. Then her left hand cupped Allie’s breast and squeezed.
Allie moaned softly. She could easily stop talking and let Barra do whatever she wanted to her.
But she was determined. “Would you really?” she asked, moving her hands down to Barra’s hips.
Allie was the one pressed up against the wall of the stall, but if Barra promised to help her, well, there was only one woman who was deserving of pleasure tonight.
“I will,” Barra said, nodding faintly as she squeezed Allie’s breast again.
“Thank you,” Allie murmured. She didn’t waste time. She pushed Barra to the other wall, pinning her against the solid brick. Just like the rest of the wedding, the bathroom had a rustic, seaside sort of aesthetic.
Then she slipped the strap of Barra’s dress down—the same one she’d tugged up earlier—and then the other. The dress fell to Barra’s feet like a waterfall.
Barra wasn’t wearing a bra, and she didn’t need to.
Her breasts were two small teacups, and her nipples were tiny pink bumps.
Allie swept her thumb over the right one and smiled when it peaked.
She did the same for the other. Then she flicked her gaze to Barra’s nude-colored seamless panties.
“We should probably get rid of those too.”
Barra didn’t hesitate. She slipped out of her panties and tossed them on the vinyl floor.
Allie felt a heat swell in her stomach before it spread low to her hips.
Despite Barra initiating the kiss, it was Allie who was in control.
Good. She liked that. In fact, it turned her on so much that she could feel her own wetness, that slippery sign of arousal that felt more familiar than hunger.
“You are gorgeous,” Allie said, taking in Barra’s nakedness.
Some women loved the feel of being admired, of being studied.
Others not so much. The hitch in Barra’s breath, however, told Allie that Barra didn’t mind at all.
Just the opposite. When Allie was sure she’d memorized every inch of her, she stepped forward and slid a hand along Barra’s side.
Then she spanned her fingers over her ribs before moving her hand forward to cup her right breast. Allie tugged at the nipple at the same time she pressed her lips to Barra’s neck.
Her skin was silky-soft. Then, Allie rolled her nipple between two fingers and wondered if Barra was the kind of woman who responded positively to pain.
She pinched a little harder, testing the waters.
Barra whimpered. Then gasped.
Allie smiled and dropped her hand. Her motto was simple: leave them wanting more.
“I’m very glad I met you,” Allie said, moving her other hand down to Barra’s hips, then to the inside of her thighs. “And if I’m being completely honest, I don’t regret spilling that drink on you.”
Barra laughed.
But her laugh was cut short when Allie dragged a finger up Barra’s center. Her folds were deliciously wet. Allie couldn’t think of anything better than the feel of a woman’s wetness on her fingers. Or maybe she could.
She dropped to her knees before Barra even had a chance to ask her what she was doing.
Then she tapped Barra’s ankles, instructing her to part her legs, which thankfully required no extra directions.
It was a mystery that some women had no idea what a simple ankle tap meant.
Allie had ended a few hookups over just that.
But Barra even lifted up her right leg and planted her heeled foot on the closed toilet seat, opening herself up for Allie like a fucking rose.
Allie couldn’t be happier. This woman was divine.
Entirely pleased with how the night was turning out, Allie kneeled down and slid her face into the gap between Barra’s legs and tilted her head up.
She stuck out her tongue and closed her eyes.
Pleasuring a woman was all about the senses.
Touch. Smell. And taste. She pressed her tongue to Barra’s folds and was delighted at how wet they were, how sweet they smelled, and how delicious they tasted.
Allie licked the length of her, then slipped her tongue inside, which she proceeded to swirl like a mixer through batter.
Barra moaned so suddenly and so loudly that Allie stopped licking and glanced up. Watermelon Sugar blared from the speakers, but even so, Allie was sure whoever was visiting the bathroom had heard her. Not that Allie minded. The more noise Barra made, the hotter Allie got.
She smiled against Barra’s pussy before she slid her tongue back inside. This time, however, she found Barra’s clit and closed her mouth around it. Then she sucked, nibbled, and lapped at her clit like this was her sole reason for being at the wedding.
Barra’s hips rolled. Her fingers had gone to Allie’s hair, but she wasn’t tugging.
Allie, on the other hand, dug her nails into Barra’s left thigh and licked harder, increasing the pressure.
She wanted Barra to explode in her mouth.
She wanted her to forever remember the woman who had fucked her in the bathroom stall at Kiara and Dominique’s wedding.
To remember that promise. And then...
Barra moaned loudly. Her body stilled. Her fingers let the strands of Allie’s hair go as her body collapsed against the wall.
Allie tasted her orgasm. And when she stood up, she didn’t wipe her mouth.
Instead, she kissed Barra and let her taste herself.
“Should we get out of here?” Allie muttered against Barra’s lips.
“We can go back to my hotel. I’m just ten minutes away. ”
Barra nodded. “I’ll call an Uber,” she said breathlessly.