TSA T&A

AUTHOR’S NOTE; The following is a work of erotica, if you’re under the age of eighteen LEAVE NOW or a horde of zombie mice will visit you at night, enter through your ears and eat your brain.

           The airport was crowded with grumbling businessmen, exasperated parents and whining children all pressed together creating a casserole of a bubbling dish of humanity.  Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport also was suffering a malfunction in their air-conditioning system.  Bad enough everyone around (myself included) were angry but we were hot and sweaty as well.  The heat simmered the human-stinking stew that nobody wanted to smell let alone taste.

            I’d been in Dallas for two weeks.  The erotica writers convention I’d attended turned out to be as busy as expected.  However on a personal note it’d turned out to be a bust in the romance department.  Melody, my ex-girlfriend had dumped me for a younger woman—a goddamn red-haired bimbo of a secretary.  She was sneaking around with this woman while I was pounding the keyboard and trying to edit a novel.  So oblivious to what was going on around me I didn’t figure it out until Melody came home, bimbo on her arm and declared she was leaving me.  It hurt.  It hurt a lot and I was bitter, angry and upset.  Not the best of moods to traipsing off to Texas to be surrounded by my fans.  I’d tried to be cordial and polite.  But after the first hour of autograph signing, my books being held straight guys (I have a lot of those kinds of followers) and little old ladies I was pissy.

The gala ball, a formal event on Saturday did little for my mood.  Apparently I was lesbian poison, nobody looked my way.  Maybe it was how I carried myself.  Stomping around the convention floor like a badger with a sore tooth hadn’t helped.  The ball was a bust.  I’d hoped I’d find a distraction at least here in Texas.  Not looking for a permanent thing it had been my hope and dream some pretty little thing might be the perfect salve for my wounded heart.

            Oh well, I thought, at least I’m headed back to San Francisco.

            Standing in the long line at the TSA checkpoint, my long hair frizzing out from the heat and humidity I tried to remain a calm island in a sea of irate, tired people.  Behind me a man was loudly grumbling about the wait.  His blown-up ego, towering self- importance was being prickled like a rabbit in a thorn bush about his missing his flight.  In front of me a woman and her two young children fidgeted, swaying from foot to foot.  The lady’s kids whined, pissed and moaned until I had to concentrate on the sweat trickling down my back before I committed murder.  So I stood there.  Tired, horny and angry in my business jacket, skirt and white blouse trying to forget the humid air and press of bodies.  The line moved forward.  It was just a single step forward, too short to make me cheer but at least we moved.  I wasn’t looking forward to TSA’s tender ministrations.  I’d seen too many online videos about how rude, rough and callous the agents were to airline passengers. 

            “Hey!” I exclaimed when my left bicep was grabbed unexpectedly.

            She was built like a brick.  A few inches taller than me but carrying an additional fifty pounds the federal employed agent appeared to be able to toss me over her shoulder and carry me off if need be.  Her short blonde hair was cut in a men’s style.  Her grip on my arm was firm and chock full of authority.  The woman’s chest was distorting the TSA logo on her shirt and making the pen in her pocket stick out at an angle.  Her “I’m taking no shit off anyone” expression was plastered on her face like a bad Halloween mask.  She wasn’t ugly—just hating her job.  Squeezing my arm and spoke in that cute drawl all Texans have.

“Miss Henderson, you’ve been randomly chosen to undergo additional screening,” the uniformed woman said.

            “Why me, Agent Holland?” I asked her after reading her name tag.

            “Your name was pulled randomly,” she said.

            “I’m not setting foot in that body scanner.  I’ve read online on how they can cause cancer.”

            “That means you’ll have to undergo a full body pat down.”

            “Fine.”

            I didn’t mean for my reply to carry that much sarcasm but it did.  Agent Holland scowled at my words.  I followed her (not that I had a lot of choice) to the side of the checkpoint and into a small room.  Another woman, a small slip of a girl followed us in.  This chick was brunette and didn’t seem happy to do her job.  She kept shooting Holland a look of mild disgust.

            “Put your purse and briefcase on the table, please,” she said, shutting the door.

            I obeyed only because I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, get on the plane and have a stiff drink.  The TSA agent snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves.  I tried not to swallow like some prisoner seeing the gallows from her jail cell.

            “Place your hands on your head, please,” Holland said, her voice blasé and bored sounding.

            “I’m goin’ for coffee, want any?” the brunette said, her tone quivering.

            “You have to stay,” Holland said, “it’s procedure.”

            “It’s okay, I don’t care,” I replied.

            As the other agent left I put my hands on my head.  With my arms up Agent Holland walked over and began to run her hands down from my wrists to my elbows.  I flinched a bit.  She gave me a smile which seemed to say, “Yeah, I know but it’s my job, okay?”.  Across my shoulders her hands went.  Searching my back I shivered from Holland’s touch, the feel of her wide palms as she stroked me. 

            “Mmmm,” I moaned with hot, quick embarrassment when her hands ran across my ass.  But the sensation of her squeezing and parting the soft cheeks had caught me off guard.  Like I said, I was lonely, horny and a bit sensitive.  It wasn’t an excuse, it was the state of my mind and body.

Holland didn’t seem to hear my comment.  She went about her business and I found myself biting my lip when she explored my legs down to my feet.  I knew what was coming next.  The return trip of her hands would come near my pussy, my neglected and now wet pussy.  Agent Holland stood up, the upward caress abandoned.  When she reached for my chest I know she had to see the fear and excitement in my eyes. 

Oh please, don’t react! I told my nipples. 

Running her blue latex fingers under the wire of my bra I felt those traitorous nubs swell and stand up.  I tried to distract myself.  I examined the ceiling and walls and tried to forget how aroused I was.  But Holland’s hair carried a nice herbal scent, her body’s heat swept over me and her hands were now on my tits.

Oh… fuck…that feels sooooo good.

I felt as if I was about to bite through my lower lip as the agent probed my large breasts.  Whether it was an accident or on purpose I let out a soft, slow groan of ecstasy when her thumb crossed my right tit’s areola. 

“S-sorry,” I said when she looked up.

“You’re gay?” Holland asked.

“Y-yeah, is that a problem?”

“No. I’ll try to make this quick and professional.”

Her answers and questions were spoken in a gruff, no-nonsense manner as if she could care less.  But I caught the slight crinkling of the left side of her mouth.  Her lip tugged upward in a very “Ah, ha!” sort of fashion.  I knew without asking this thick bodied woman wasn’t straight.  She looked like a bull-dyke and my anticipation grew in leaps and bounds.  She was gay—and a very interested lesbian at that.

Her hands released my tits and ran down my flat stomach causing it to quiver in trembling spasms.  Holland knelt and her hand reached my skirt’s waistband and I couldn’t help myself.

I leaned into her.

Hard.

Holland chuckled making her breath whoosh into my stomach making me shudder as if a cold breeze had wafted past me. 

“Been awhile, huh?” she said.

“T-too long,” I stammered out with a moan.

“Poor darlin’…”

She stood up.  I looked into her blue eyes and saw she was also quite excited by my reactions to her touch.  A faint smile appeared on her lips and her eyes unlocked from mine Holland glanced over my shoulder.

“The camera’s on,” she said.  “I’m going to help you out just don’t scream or cry out, okay?”

“I’ll try,” I said my words trembling with arousal.

Still kneeling she lifted my skirt.  My face grew hot, my cheeks warming to the erotic encounter I never expected.  Pushing her latex-clad fingers into my sex I shook from stem to stern.  The smell of her gloves, the pressure on my pussy and the nearness of her lips to my love bud increased my excitement to the nth degree. 

Oh please… kiss it… touch your lips to my pussy, I thought-begged at her.

Agent Holland went behind me leaving me feeling cold and abandoned.  My skirt falling over my needy slit like a bank’s vault door slamming down.  Henderson’s Savings and Loan had been sealed, or so the thought occurred to me.  I wanted to cry.  The feeling I’d be left unfulfilled and sexually frustrated washed over me like someone tossed a bucket of dirty water across my face. 

I was still looking down when it happened.  My body jerked making my tits wiggle when I saw her arms go around my waist.  Like naughty blue spiders her fingers sought out the hem of my skirt once more.  She raised it slow and easy.  Shutting my eyes to concentrate and enjoy it all I managed to suppress a moaning sob when her fingers neared the top of my panties.

I knew the crotch of my underwear was damp from my excitement.  I could feel the air caressing the moist, throbbing spot.  Holland’s fingers pressed on either side of my cunt and I tried not to bend at the waist from delight.  She stroked my pussy.  Tender flicks of her finger across the engorged bud of my clit made me whimper past tightly pressed lips.  My labia were spread.  Holland’s digits were on either side pushing my thick pussy lips and allowing her to run another finger from my slit’s base to the sensitive nub.  Through the material of my panties she caressed me.  My hips bucked and my knees began to wobble.  The TSA dyke stroked me for a few minutes until I was silently gasping for more.

“Just follow me,” Holland said into my right ear.

She walked me backwards, we paused briefly and I felt her sit down.  Her hands never left my sweltering cunt.  Her wet latex-covered digits firmly caressing past the cotton panties and teasing my eager quim.

“Hey!” I exclaimed when pulled into her wide lap.

My legs were spread apart, the left side of my panties bypassed and Holland’s finger slipped inside my pussy.  I leaned forward.  The woman behind me sank her digit as far as it could go into my hungry snatch.  I tried to, but failed to contain my sob of delight when her other hand began stroking my clit. 

“Like that?” Holland said in an amused, aroused tone.

“T-the camera… what about t-the camera?” I mumbled.

“I’ll delete the file.  Just sit back and enjoy.”

“The other agent… what about her?”

“She won’t be back… relax and enjoy it, darlin’.”
            I leaned back and laid my head against her shoulder.  Holland kissed my cheek as she continued to finger-bang me.  Two latex-coated digits now filled me.  Squeezing and pinching my clit Holland made me gasp in hot, heavy breaths until I couldn’t think straight.  I ground my ass against her lap trying to wedge her fingers as deep as possible.  The sloppy sounds of her fingering me, the musky scent of my pussy and the sight of her hands shoved deep into my panties dominated my senses. 

“Oh… no, please… don’t,” I whined when the hand on my clit was pulled away.

“Relax,” Holland said.

I was pushed forward and felt the TSA agent fumbling around her chest.  A big, warm sphere now rested against my back.  Holland pulled me across her lap with the ease of a nurse handling a newborn.  My ass slid across her pants and I hoped I wasn’t leaving a wet spot on her trousers.  In the end I hung there half-on and half-off her closed thighs.  My legs dangling off her right leg, bent at the knee with my feet on the floor of the examination room.  I could feel my long brown hair sweeping against her shirt.  Without warning Holland pushed her massive tit with its erect nipple into my greedy mouth.  I sucked it hard.  My face was mashed against the soft, firm breast and it eclipsed my view.  Holland’s hand resumed stroking my clit and penetrating my pussy.

“So wet… so hungry,” she said about my cunt.  “You’re so nice and slippery.”

“Mmph,” I agreed past a mouthful of tit-meat. 

I tongued her nipple, Holland let out a gasp of her own.  The squishing sounds of her fingers delving into my snatch grew louder and wetter.  My knees fell apart.  Holland’s fingers became more persistent in their actions.  Flicking my clit the woman made me whimper into her breast. 

Oh yes… faster, faster baby… flick my bean f-f-faster! I thought at her. 

I grabbed her tit with both hands making her nipple distort in my mouth.  Squeezing and sucking, licking and nipping I tried to give as good as I was getting.  A third finger was inserted into my puss.  My face fell away from her massive tit, a long moan made my lips vibrate.

“Aaaaaaaah,” I cried out.

Holland stuffed her tit back into my face.  The squishy sounds of her fingers deeply penetrating my cunt sounded like a dog’s greedy gulping a bowl of water.  My inner tissues were spread as far as they could go, my pussy clenched and trembled in pre-orgasmic preparations.  I didn’t want to cum—not yet.  Fighting past the sensations I tried to hold it off.  I wanted a monster orgasm.  Hoping to be launched off her lap like the space shuttle I held back.

“Come for me, baby,” Holland said, her own voice husky and emotional.

No…no, not yet, I thought.

“I wanna feel and see your pretty pussy go ape-shit crazy.  Cum for me, darlin’… cum ever so hard.”

I released the remaining hold on my climax’s leash. 

My body went spastic on Holland’s lap.  It must’ve been what a fish out of water felt like, flopping and wagging its tail in a struggle to go back into its watery home.  Thrashing against the woman’s body I jerked, wiggled, bent and straightened out like some convulsing ER patient.  All the time the big woman kept stuffing her fingers into my slit and rubbing my clit as if to call a genie forth from my sex. 

My lips popped off her nipple. I tried to control my urge to shout to the heavens to let everyone know I was having a killer climax  I just managed to control my voice.

“Aaaagghh… aaaahhh…. Oh. My. God,” I grunted suppressing my need to wail.

“Ooooh, you’re so sexy when you orgasm,” Holland said.

My head lolled on my neck giving me a perfect view of the ceiling which seemed to rock from an earthquake.  It took me a few seconds to realize it was me moving not the building.  Holland leaned forward and kissed me hard, fast and deep.  Our tongues wrestled, she tasted like peppermint gum.  So passionate was the kiss it lengthened my orgasm by two-fold.  Her lips locked on mine, her fingers jammed into my pussy and the shaking of my body was all I knew after a while.  The warm, arrhythmic spasms began as my climax wore down.  I jerked occasionally on Holland’s lap, she held me and kept me from falling off.  I felt like a load of wet, limp laundry.  Just happy to be and nothing more.  She took her mouth from mine but not before giving my lips on last quick peck.

“T-thank you,” I breathed out more than said.

“All part of TSA’s friendly service,” Holland said with a chuckle.

“The service was outstanding.”

“You live in Dallas or Fort Worth?”

“No, San Francisco.”

“A shame. I was hoping to ask you out on a date.”

“Aw, that’s sweet… but I won’t be back until next year.  The erotica writers convention, you know.”

“I know.  I read your books Miss Henderson.  I’m a big fan.”

“What?”

“Can I get an autograph?”

I was stunned.  Climbing out of her arms and off her lap I smoothed out my skirt while staring at her.  Holland’s face was open, honest and could barely contain her arousal.  She handed me a piece of white paper from a pad in her pocket.  Taking the pen out of her hand I started to write before I remembered I didn’t know what her first name was.

 “What’s your first name?” I asked.

“Dorothy.  Dorothy Holland, Miss Henderson,” she replied.

“You can call me Betty.  After all, any woman whose stuffed her fingers up my cunt and made me cum until I’m shaky can’t call me Miss Henderson.”

“Okay, Betty.”

Dorothy’s face turned pink from embarrassment.  I realized she wasn’t prone to this sort of outlandish behavior.  Her shy nature exposed made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It wasn’t love—or I didn’t think so at the time.  Yet there was something there, something tangible I wanted to explore. 

“I never suspected you’d let me do that… I’m kinda shocked,” Dorothy said.

“You silly,” I said with a laugh.  “My website states clearly I’m gay.”

“Oh… it does?”

“You knew that… you just wanted to tease me, didn’t you?”

“The computer didn’t pull your name out.  I lied.  I saw you and couldn’t believe it was you.  I told the senior agent I wanted an autograph and he let me pick you out of the crowd.  I knew you were gay, but wouldn’t be interested in a girl like me.  I’m not exactly a swimsuit model, ya know.  At least this way I could touch the woman whose books I adore legally.”

“Why you naughty girl, Dorothy!  Yeah, you’re not my usual type but I do find you attractive—even before your little body cavity search.”
“Sorry, can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?  I’d like to eat you until you scream but I have to catch this flight.”

“Now who’s the tease?”

“Me, I guess.”

I noticed I’d left a wet mouth print on her right tit.  The desire to pull out her left and make them equal in arousal and moist consumed me.  I couldn’t take my eyes off how her boob was sticking out of her white TSA shirt and hanging over her bra.  Walking over I took a business card out of my purse.  With quick and nervous fingers I wrote down my unlisted phone number along with the one for my cell.  I handed it to Dorothy who’s face went slack with shock.  Her mouth dropped open and this made me happily think how’d I’d like to resume that kiss.  She took the card and I kissed her fast on the mouth.  She surprised me, it seemed only right to do the same to her.

“Call me when you get a chance,” I told her.

“But we live so far apart.  How are we going to get together?” Dorothy asked.

“We can’t I don’t have the cash for a return flight for awhile… do you have a computer?  A webcam?”

“I don’t have a webcam.”

“That’ll have to do.  We can get together online.”

“Phone sex?”

“If you like.  After all I’m a writer.  Just think about how nasty and dirty I can talk.”

I knew she could by her instant reaction. Her face went from a pinkish shame to scarlet excitement at the thought of what I’d say.  She shuddered in the chair making it squeak and creak.

“Maybe we can meet halfway—at a nice no-tell motel…,” I remarked in my best seductive voice.  “You.  Me.  A bottle of lube, several vibrators and no clothing for an entire weekend.  Sound good?”

“Oh god,” she moaned.  “I wish… but I don’t have any vacation time.”

“Well it’s a thought.  I think I’ll put this little encounter in my next book—if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll be a character in one of your novels?”

“If you want I can change your name.”

“No, that’s okay.  Wow!  Wait until I tell my roommate Jill about all this!”

“You do that, sweetie,” I said kissing her on the cheek.

She blushed even redder.

“Are we done here?” I asked.

“Yeah… unfortunately,” Dorothy said with a giggle.

“I’ll be in touch if you don’t call first.”

“I-I will…”

“Thanks, Dorothy.  Thank you for everything.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Mine too.  Just don’t forget to delete that file from the camera over there.  I don’t want to be a star on the Internet.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

I walked out of the room, my legs still shaky from my orgasm.  Walking past the other TSA agents I noticed how they were acting.  The skinny brunette who’d left the exam room was all but gagging in repulsion.  She must’ve been in on it.  I worried Dorothy’s job might be on the line if this breeder reneged on the deal she’d made with Dorothy.  The fat guy sitting by the computer, probably the senior agent was licking his lips and leering at me.  The other men were crowded around him their eyes fixated on the monitor.  Their bodies were hunched over like coroners during an autopsy as they watched the instant replay.  Most of them sported wood.  I wondered how many would excuse themselves, go to the bathroom and jerk off.  I laughed.  They looked up, grinned like felons so I gave them a wink and they all got embarrassed.  The people in line were shooting me looks of utter disbelief.  Perhaps my cries weren’t as muffled as I thought.

Fuck ‘em, I thought, strolling past them with my head held high.

I slept like the dead on the flight back to San Fran.

****

            The rest of the story goes something like this.  Dorothy deleted our little escapade from the TSA computers but saved a copy for us both.  It’s supposed to be impossible but I knew better.  The Internet was filled with TSA shots of women’s and men’s nude bodies from the scanner.  As for the file… well, she sent a copy to me.  If I thought getting it firsthand was hot, viewing it was a whole new experience for me.  I watched it twice and masturbated the last time with my favorite dildo.  Plunging it into my sopping wet pussy, watching Dorothy woman-handle me until I climaxed I drove myself to another screamer.  I came as hard then as I did on the monitor. 

Dorothy called a week later.

I talked dirty for three hours.

Dorothy climaxed, half-dozen times—I had four myself.

TSA found out about the entire finger-fucking, tit sucking session and acted accordingly.  Dorothy got fired.   Somebody squealed and I figured it was the homophobic brunette who left us alone.  So jobless and craving me, Dorothy was in a peck of trouble (her words, not mine).

I had no choice.

I flew Dorothy out to San Francisco, let her stay with me under the false pretense for just  awhile so she could find another job and apartment.  She’s now a bouncer at a gay bar and it’s working out for both of us.  We drive each other crazy at night.  Keeping with our first encounter she occasionally dresses up in her old uniform (she kept her spare, I paid for it when TSA was told it was lost) and “searches” me.  Last night she bent me over the coffee table in front of my webcam.  I didn’t have any explosives on (or in) my body but I did have an explosion.  Of the orgasmic kind, I mean.  Howling and screaming in delight I detonated while she reamed my hot, hungry pussy and slid her greased thumb up my puckered anus.  I came hard—my fingers are still shaking on the keyboard—you see, we just finished before I started writing this. 

Shocked?  I write about what we do in bed, on the couch, in the elevator, on the balcony and in the bathroom  To make sure I get it right, we record our antics.  And I do mean everything.  Ours is a no-holds-barred, living on the edge style of sex.  Because of Dorothy and the digital recordings my writing has taken on a kinkier aspect, even my editor has commented about how more real and hot it sounds.  I couldn’t agree more.  It’s been four months and I don’t want Dorothy to move out.  We’re not exactly in love but it’s all good—Dorothy doesn’t want to go anyway.  So who says the TSA don’t provide a necessary service? 

They sure did for this lonely lesbian.

 

The Halloween Party

AUTHOR’S NOTE; The following is a work of horror/erotica not intended for those under the age of eighteen.  If you are a minor PLEASE LEAVE NOW!

The Halloween Party

            Tamara Collins looked into the mirror and saw the smile spread on her reflected image.  The black lips parted with ease.  Her teeth shone like evenly shaped polished ivory except the false fangs she wore.  The dark makeup around her eyes made the optometrist bought contacts appear to be even more frightening.  The redness of them caused her to be momentarily startled.  Her face was white, deathly white with only the faintest hint of grayness around her cheekbones to give her a gaunt, hollow appearance.  Tamara’s throat, slender and long flowed into a pair of shoulders both round and firm.  Following a gold necklace which dripped around her neck she took great delight in appreciating how the low cut, black dress deepened her cleavage in a provocative, almost obscene manner.  The image in the mirror brought up its hands and she turned them around fascinated by the costume jewelry rings upon those dainty fingers. 

            “I vant to drink your blood,” she cooed, in a fake Hungarian accent.

            This set of a series of giggling which made the mirror woman wiggle voluptuously.  She let out a sigh.

            “This ought to get somebody’s attention,” she told herself.

            The viewers watched the woman get up.  The big plasma screen in front of them showing her adjusting her dress and hair before snagging a long black coat and an ebony purse with a skull-like clasp holding it closed.  The scene played forward almost inhumanly quickly until it reached the door to a house.  There was a party going on, a wild raucous one at that.  Several of the watchers grunted in parental disgust.

            Tamara watched the door open and saw her best friend Jill standing there attired in a naughty French maid’s outfit.  The costume was scandalous, short and very revealing.

            “Hey Jill,” she shouted over the loud music.

            “What’s up Tami?” the woman hollered back.

            “Just ready to get my freak on!”

            “Well come on in—the guys are hot and the beer is cold.”

            She walked inside and noticed her BFF was already drunk, swaying dangerously on her high heels.  Tamara looked into the room and noticed several of the collegiate men were leering at her.  Their mutual thoughts were plain on their red cheeked faces.  Doffing the coat and letting it fall to the floor she immediately was the center of attention.

            “Hey everyone,” Jill shrieked, “this is my BFF Tami!”

            A rowdy and deep chorus of hellos thundered up from the slowly circling men.  Each face was now alit with false charming smiles trying to hide their lecherous fantasies.  Tamara laughed and curtsied.  The women at the party just waved, hating the arrival of more competition.

            “The big blonde vampire is Fred and he’s mine,” Jill whispered drunkenly into her ear.

            Tamara turned to face her friend and noticed the dancing carnal thoughts sparkling in her deep brown eyes.

            The seated viewers watched as dispassionately as they could while Tamara walked deeper into the revelry, snagging an offered red plastic cup from an admirer.  One of them, an older woman let out a huffing grunt of distain.  Her vocal displeasure only grew more agitated when the beautiful twenty-one year old began dancing to the ear-popping thump of a suggestive Rap song.  Once more the scene increased in speed making the images on the screen bounce wildly until it slowed once more.  Tamara was now engaged in conversation, loudly spoken with a man dressed in a clown costume.  His bizarre appearances made several of the witnesses laugh.  He was dressed in a white full body costume sporting large red, blue and yellow polka dots.  The older woman hissed out of her fear of clowns.

            “So you’re a psych major,” Tamara yelled.

            “Yeah just entered my second year,” the man yelled, stretching the large red lips painted onto his white pancake face.

            “What’s your name?”

            “Zachary Richards…Zack for short.”
            “You know clowns really creep me out.”

            “Sorry I wish I hadn’t worn this now that I’ve met you.  But it was all I could afford since my dorm mate borrowed my last twenty.”

“Why’d ya give it to him?”
“He wanted to take his girlfriend out and was broke so I felt sorry for him.”

“That’s really cool of you.”

“Well that’s just the kind of guy I am.  So you go to Howard State?”

“No I wish I did.  Couldn’t afford it—my folks aren’t exactly rich and I couldn’t seem to qualify for a loan.”

“That’s a shame, you look really smart.”

“Thanks!”

“And in case you haven’t seen a mirror lately, well you’re beautiful too.”

Tamara began giggling and felt a few splashes of beer trickling onto her fishnet stockings.  She apologized but was interrupted halfway by a hiccup.  Zack handed her a black napkin which was covered with bright orange pumpkins. 

He’s a real gentleman, she thought, mopping up the wet spot on her right thigh.

“So can I ask if you’re single?” the clown inquired.

“Totally,” she shouted back.

“Must be my lucky night then.”
“Oh really—so sure of yourself?”

“No you don’t understand.  It’s just you’re really pretty and I thought this party was going to be a mistake.  Instead of leaving early I’m sitting with the sexiest woman in the place and having a wonderful time.”

He’ got a nice face and I just love those big brown eyes of his, she thought.  I can’t really tell if he’s handsome because of the makeup but I’m betting he’s not ugly.  In fact he’s pretty hot.

“You’re pretty hot yourself,” Tamara stated, repeating her last thought.
“Thanks!” he hollered back.

“Look the music’s giving me a headache—wanna step outside?”

“Sure.”

She got up and immediately, accidentally staggered but Zack caught her without groping her body.  She made a mental note of the way he avoided being helpful but not taking advantage of the situation.  Shuffling her feet encased in her black thigh high, long heeled boots she let him lead her to the backdoor. 

The silent viewers began to breathe more rapid while watching them pass the swaying bodies shimmying to the dull, loud thumping music.  A turning glance of Tamara’s revealed the party’s hostess seated on the lap of a man dressed in a vampire costume.  They were locked in a fierce kiss so animalistic it seemed they were devouring each other’s faces.  The images swayed from side to side, the clarity of the monitor was fuzzier.  Everyone seated there in front of the big screen television was acutely aware it wasn’t due to technical difficulties or any static interference.  Suddenly the music faded to a more reasonable audio level and the sounds of crickets rose in the California night air.

Tamara’s footwear began to become troublesome.  Despite the flatness of the back lawn the three inch spikes beneath her heels sank like a fork into a birthday cake.  Each step was a chore of yanking her foot out of the soft loam while sinking the other deeper.

“You okay?” Zack inquired, his voice sounding very concerned for her wellbeing.

“My fucking boots are getting stuck,” she swore, immediately regretting her unlady-like choice of words.

“Here let me help you.”

She let out a surprised squeal as he carefully picked her up and carried her effortlessly to a children’s swing set.  The warm of his touch, the coiled tightness of his muscles and faint smell of his body-wash began to work on her already aroused libido.  Zack set her down on the swing and sat cross-legged in front of her on the lawn.

“All better?” he asked, his red mouth parting in a wide smile.

“Thanks,” she giggled.  “I guess I had too much to drink so soon.”

“Well the night air will help you chase away some of your buzz.”

Her gaze locked onto his face and she felt a frown wrinkle her brow.  He was sitting there smiling but still his hidden, true appearance began to bother her.

“Hey you know this really ain’t fair.  I can’t get a good look at your face because of all that makeup,” she stated.

“Okay let me run out to the car,” he offered.  “But you gotta promise me not to wander off or let some other guy start chatting you up.”

“Oh isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No!  I’m just getting to know the prettiest girl at the party.  I have no plans other than conversation.”

“Got a weak pimp hand, then?”

He laughed at the phrase and said, “Well I’ve never been too good with the ladies.”

“Perhaps that’ll change tonight—go get that makeup off.”

Those sitting and taking in the sights and sounds shifted nervously in their seats.  A man in the back row coughed.  It was a forced, short sound.  Eyes were turned his way and his face took on an expression of regret.  Turning back to the plasma monitor they resumed their vigil. The orange wigged head of Zack disappeared through the back gate of the fenced in yard and disappeared out of sight.  More of them shifted in their seats.  Anticipation rose and making the atmosphere around them become hot and tense.  They watched while the young man returned with a black makeup case and his face alit with a brilliant smile.

“You took long enough,” Tamara chided him.  “I was beginning to get lonely.”

“Sorry,” he apologized; I didn’t get a really good parking place.”

“Okay I understand.  Hell I had to park down the street because of being so late to the party myself.”

He sat back down on the short grass and opened the case, the lid obscuring the contents from her eyes.  With growing interest she watched him begin to swab his face with a round sponge.  Each swipe of his hand revealed more and more of his true skin color.

Okay so far so good, she thought.

The red nose was plucked off and gently placed in the black plastic container.  His skullcap was removed and the shortness of his buzz cut appeared.  Running a hand through it the jelled hairs stood up from their flattened out state.  More wiping and smearing occurred next until he was staring at her with a face slightly reddened from his actions.

Okay not only is he not bad looking he’s really hot!

“So what do you think?” Zack asked.

“Not bad,” she joked. 

“I’m hurt…”

She laughed.

“Just kidding—actually you’re very handsome.”

He smiled.  It was a boyish grin making her heart’s pace pick up and begin to thump happily against her ribs.  Prudence was pushed aside and she leaned forward feeling her breasts almost spill out of the black dress.  He bent at the waist.  Zack’s face eclipsed her view and they kissed.  A rush of warm turning hot emotions radiated out of the center of her chest.  Her breathing became rapid while their tongues danced.  He shuffled over quite gracefully despite the long clown shoes he was wearing.  Tamara put her arms around his neck and he slid his hands from the sides of her waist.  Zack’s warm palms caressed her lower back making lazy circles which made her body quiver with delightful anticipation.  She tasted beer.  Her nose filled with the strong cloying scent of the Axe body-wash he used.  The soft sounds of their kissing and the metallic creak of the swing filling her ears.

“So sexy,” he groaned, after breaking away from her lips.

“I’m usually not this aggressive,” she commented.

Tamara felt a blush rise on her cheeks and warm the skin beneath the makeup she wore. 

“So are you gonna suck my blood?” he joked.

“Maybe later,” she sighed provocatively.

His face loomed upward and they were kissing once more.  Hands began to roam all over her back and shoulders.  She ran her fingers through his short cropped hair ignoring the transfer of slippery gel onto them.  Their passions rose.  What started out as a simple kiss became more urgent, needy and fierce.  Mutual moans and groans filled Tamara’s ears.  He broke away from her and his expression seemed at bit embarrassed and shameful.  A hurt emotion wrinkled his smooth brow making her quickly wonder what the matter was.

Have I offended him?  Did I go too far? She thought.

“Sorry I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” he apologized.  “It’s just—well I didn’t think a girl like you would find a guy like me worthy of your time.”

“Hush,” she told him.  “Don’t stop now—and you’re not taking advantage of me, I want this.  I came to have fun and you’re so sweet and polite I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.  I really do like you.”

He leaned into her body crushing her breasts against her ribs.  Their lips locked for a third time and she began to unzip the ridiculously garish costume hiding the hunk beneath it.  She felt her fingers fumble due to the lack of visual aid.  Inch by inch it came undone but she stopped halfway when his hands slid around.  She let out a gasp of happy surprise when he began to cup her tits.

Oh yeah he’s so gentle but so firm, she sighed inwardly.  Ah! His hands are in my bra…oh yes pinch my nipples…yeah just like that.  How does he know what I want before I ask it?

She ran her hand down the smooth mounds of his chest and descended into the rolling ripples of his abs.  Scandalized only slightly Tamara discovered he was wearing nothing beneath the clown getup.  She leaned deeper into the embrace.  Her fingers began seeking the top of his underwear’s waistband.

The watchers shifted uncomfortably while the intimate scene played on in glorious, vivid color.  The room was filled with the soft cries of the aroused couple.  The man in the back coughed once more.  This time nobody dared to turn around to chastise him.  Deep in their minds they were all feeling a bothered by witnessing such a private act.  The older lady put her hand over her crimson mouth and against the paleness of her white glove her lips appeared even more scarlet.

Tamara moaned loudly.  Her tits had popped out of her dress and were freed from the pushup bra she had been wearing.  Zack’s face dropped away from hers leaving her mouth wetly disappointed and suddenly cold.  But the tentative touch of his mouth upon her right nipple sent shockwaves of intense pleasure into her beer saturated brain.  His tongue darted out to wet the protruding bud while his other hand passionately mauled her other breast.  She hugged his face closer to her chest.  Her hand was permitted to deepen its exploration of his costume.  Still she hadn’t discovered the top portion of his underwear.

Is he totally naked under all this? She wondered with a sigh.  I hope so!

Her left breast was released without warning.  Disappointment only lasted a few agonizing long seconds until it was placed on her left thigh.  Sliding up the naughty fishnet stockings she shivered with delight when it entered the darkness beneath her side split dress.  When his fingers brushed against her damp thong she hopped in place.  He laughed softly.

“Sensitive are you?” he muttered around her nipple.

“Been awhile since…,” she started to say but let her words fade away.

He switched his talented mouth from right to left and began suckling her other nipple.  The air surrounding her moistened aureole grew cool from his abandonment.   She felt a pout’s short lifespan be born and then die upon her lips. 

Oh god if he’s this good with my tits I can’t imagine what he’ll do to my poor pussy, she excitedly pondered.

A shiver of inflamed anticipation ran up her spine like someone dragging an ice cube along it.  Her thoughts were scattered when her thong was expertly bypassed and her pubic hair was stroked.  She moaned loudly.  Zack never looked up but kept to his tender oral ministrations.

“Oh yeah, baby,” she groaned.

“So hot, wet and ready,” he announced.

“Touch me.”

She felt his fingers move down, lingering only briefly at the very edge of her nether mane.  She bit her lip, the sharp pain spiking into her mind just before Zack pushed a padded tip of his digit against her swollen clit.  Tamara leaned forward shoving more of her breast into his mouth as she tried to increase the fondling pleasure.

“Interesting reaction,” he murmured.

Her breathing filled her ears.  It was a hot rush of wind bursting past her parted lips only to be replaced by her quick inhale.  Her heart thundered, her chest heaved and the cleft between her thighs became damp with hot juices.  He began outlining the edges of her labia.  Fluttering touches which traced her pussy but never enough to penetrate or satisfy her burning desire.  From the trembling top to the dew soaked bottom he continued to lightly stroke her.  She tried to wiggle, to force Zack to accidentally slip and sink his digit into her hot confines.  She groaned in frustration when her efforts didn’t produce the desired, badly needed result.  The caresses continued but only stoked the fire of her arousal.

I can’t take it…stop teasing me, she gasped to herself. 

She opened her mouth to beg, no demand he stop teasing her.  Before she could utter even a ghost of a word his finger swirled around her moist opening just before plunging delicately inside her slit.

Tamara’s thin wail of pleasure echoed briefly in the backyard.

More movement of the embarrassed and aroused audience became apparent.  The creak of leather cushions, the scrap of chair legs and the hushed grunts of discomfort began filling the room.  Yet their eyes were locked upon the viewscreen despite it only displaying the top of Zack’s head.  When the top of the man’s skull moved away it brazenly showed the naked firm roundness of Tamara’s quivering breasts.

“Oh my,” said one of the men.

He was immediately the recipient of fast, angry glances.  Slinking away by scooting down in his seat he was properly chastised.  The irritated faces turned back to the erotic scene and their expressions went from anger to slightly disgusted excitement.

Tamara’s questing digits finally found the short curls of Zack’s pubic hairs.  She twisted them around her fingers in a lazy manner until she grew quickly bored with this game.  She let out a quick hissing noise when her partner spread her wet labia and inserted another finger into her pussy.  She squirmed, wiggled and tried desperately to increase their probing to a deeper, more satisfying depth. 

Please more… come on I need this so badly, she whined to herself.  I can take more…just a bit deeper…oh yeah that’s right… touch me there, yes there.  Oh fuck! Oh fuck!

His palm came to rest against the soft mound of her cleft.  Tamara removed her hand from the inside of his costume.  The warmth of his palming hand made her lean back until her arms were stretched out and her hair dangled almost touching the grass.  She sucked in great sobbing breaths while he shifted his grip, his thumb grinding gently against the hooded button of her clitoris.  She planted her feet on the ground and her long heels sank deeply.  Lifting her quaking bottom up off the swing’s seat she spread her legs wider.  Zack rode with her movement.  His mouth and hands never gave up a single inch to her pulling away.  A grunt of approval eked out from around her captured nipple.

“Oh yes,” she moaned.  “Yeah baby rub me…get me off and I’ll do you.”

He mumbled something into her tit.  Her breath exploded from her loosely gaping mouth and she began sobbing without forming words. 

Oh fuck yeah, she thought excitedly, he’s rubbing my G-spot, my clit and still sucking my tit at the same time… damn what a lover!

The creaking noise of the swing began to sing a strange discordant accompaniment to her ragged gasps and deep throaty moans.  His breathing whistled out from around the loose seal of his mouth on her tit.  A powerful sensation began to grow exponentially from between her trembling thighs, vibrate all the way up her backbone and make her brain become overloaded from their intensity.

The crowd tried to keep their hands to themselves.  Fingers intertwined and knuckles turned bone white from clutching together so harshly.  No more coughs interrupted their viewing pleasure.  No additional commentary was necessary, the only constant sounds were the squeaking creaks of leather cushions and soft heated breaths.  All eyes were focused on the screen.  Lips were occasionally wetted by nervous flicks of darting tongues.  The erotic viewpoint played on…

It built to a rapid crescendo.  Between the alcohol, her long neglected body and the she found herself succumbing to the rushing tide of her rising orgasm.  Her legs began to shake violently, her arms quivered even more than her legs.  She could feel her ass dancing, flexing and shivering while he continued to thrust his fingers in and out.  The rubbing of her clit became more pronounced.  The mouth sucking at her left nipple switched to her right making her cry out in a stammering sob.

Oh fuck!  I’m g-going to cum… oh yes come on, come on, she inwardly chanted.

She exploded without warning.

Thundering up from her overly stimulated pussy to instantly transfer to every quivering extremity her climax roared through her.  Her head fell back giving her a perfect view of the stars above.  The twinkling lights far above her multiplied when her eyes crossed.  A ragged shriek tore past her lips and filled the night with the sounds of her ecstasy.  Not missing a beat Zack continued to pleasure her.  Deeper and faster his two fingers plunged into her depths.  The pad of his thumb ground against her clit producing wave after wave of delight to burst from her tormented loins.  Each jerk of her hips grew more powerful until she was forced to sit back down.  Her muscles unable to keep her aloft and permitted her to concentrate on her orgasm without distraction.  Her cries softened in volume.  Lessening from blubbering sobs of high pitched screams to low guttural grunts punctuated by each stroke of Zack’s fingers.  Finally she sat up, peeled her sore and cramped fingers from around the chain links and pushed Zack away.  Her body swung forward.  She watched her breasts heave up and down while she fought to return to a more normal breathing rhythm.  Her nipples gleamed with his spit, her pussy throbbed from the aftershocks of her pleasure and Tamara almost began crying from the intense reaction.

“Are you okay?” Zack asked softly.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, “I think I’ll be all right.”

She raised her head and brushed away the silky tresses of her hair which was obscuring his worried expression.  Reaching out she stroked his cheek.  Zack leaned into her caress and turned his face to kiss her palm.

“You are amazing,” she gasped.  “I can’t imagine how you could top that.”

He didn’t speak.  She sagged to the ground, her heels pulling out of the loose loam.  Struggling to keep her balance she watched him stand up.  Suddenly his crotch was in her face still hidden by the white costume with the blue, red and yellow polka dots.  Her fingers trembled when she reached for his zipper.  He took a backward step but her hand grabbed the cheap material halting his steps.

I’m going to have to really give him my best, she thought, I can’t let him get me off so easily and not do the same.  It’s a matter of pride after all!

The zipper made a metallic ripping sound when Tamara pulled it down to the very base of its toothy track.  She reached into the darkness of his costume and found him.

He was limp, soft and not aroused.

 Anger flashed into her brain as she spread the fabric to visually confirm what her fingers where telling her.  She stared into his eyes.  Zack was embarrassed and a bit angry and the two emotions played across his handsome features without a true winner being declared.

“What the fuck?” she snarled.  “How can you be limp?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he apologized profusely.  “I thought this time would be different… I really think you’re hot but…”

“Are you a fag?  What the fuck is wrong with you Zack?  You make me cum so hard I nearly faint but then show no interest at all!”

“I don’t know why… I have this problem…”

She cut him off in mid-sentence with a hot reply.

“Fucking homo!  What do you think you were doing?  Hoping you could force yourself straight by making out with me?” she spat out.

“No it’s not like that,” he said, backing up.

She watched his hand go behind his back and without warning grabbed his arms by the elbows.  Tamara began shaking him.

“I should’ve known,” she cursed loudly.  “Every hot guy is either a queer or a bastard.  Sometimes I think I just ought to turn gay so I can get laid more often.”

Zack yanked his arm out of her grip.  His right hand flashed across her vision and a hot burning sensation erupted under her chin.  The burning line stretched from ear to ear.  She began coughing, gagging and struggling for air.  Blood sprayed out of her lips and clouded her vision momentarily.  She tried to back up but her body began to weaken and her traitorous heels sank deep into the turf.  Her hands tried to stop the hot scarlet flow while a coldness, from both her fear and loss of blood chilled her limbs.

W-what the fuck?  Why did he do t-that? She gasped in her mind.

“You have to understand I can’t help myself,” he stated in a pleading voice.  “I’ve tried and tried but no matter who I’m with I just can’t get it up… not with a live girl anyway.”

She fell suddenly.  Her vision was once more filled with the blackness of the night and the stars above.  His face came into view as he stepped around her left side.  He was clutching a long thin knife in his hand.  She watched her blood drip off the sharp tip.

“I’m sorry, really I am,” Zack stated softly.  “But this is how it has to be.  There’s no more denying it.  You are very beautiful Tamara and I’m going to enjoy our time together for the rest of my life.  For as long as it lasts.”

The watchers sat in stunned silence.  No longer did they shift in their seats or husk out hot breaths.  The violently swift attack had ripped out the very soul out of those staring at the thirty-six inch screen.  The older woman began softly sobbing.  Her hitching cries were silently shared by all present and they let her vocalize the horror they all felt.  They watched as the video feed continued on.  The sound was muted making every noise sound like it was occurring underwater.  Zack picking up the body while Tamara’s dying brain recorded all his efforts.  She was set beside the makeup case and her dead eyes were accidentally fixated on him while he reapplied his makeup.  The red nose was put back on.  The case was snapped shut.  Once again her body was picked up and carried but this time her murderer was walking out the back gate.  In seconds she was gently laid into the trunk of Zack’s car.  Just before the lid was shut the images ceased playing.  The cold yet sorrowful face of the killer was frozen as Tamara’s brain stopped taking in everything. 

The lights came back on. The men and women sitting in the double rows blinked and rubbed at the shooting pains from the sudden illumination.  They watched as a man stepped up in front of the screen.  His face was a mask of anger.

“You have just seen the recovered memories of Tamara Collins and witnessed the last hours of her life,” the prosecuting attorney stated. 

He pointed to the despondent man sitting in an orange prison jumpsuit the same shade as the wig he wore on that fateful night.  His face was lowered and he was hiding his eyes from the irate stares of the jury.

“Forensic evidence has concluded that Zachary Richards did, with full awareness of the illegality of his actions, take home Tamara Collins’ corpse and sexually abused it for seven days.  Even when he was apprehended by the police, during a routine traffic stop he did willfully cling to it until he was subdued by pepper spray and handcuffs.”

A low grown issued from the throats of every person in the jury box and the somewhat remorseful young man began sobbing uncontrollably.  His shoulders shook up and down but he still didn’t raise his gaze to meet his peers.

“I ask you to take everything you have seen which was recovered from Tamara’s memories by the latest forensic technology,” the lawyer stated.  “The cold blooded murder and the events up until poor Tamara’s brain finally died cannot be refuted.  That man over there did willingly cut a young woman down in the prime of her life.  Clemency is not an option.  The State of California seeks the death penalty for such a brutal crime and the deplorable acts that followed.  We will provide expert testimony to how these images, sounds and thoughts were retrieved from the victim’s deceased brain.  Doctor Emil Lorenzo from MIT will show you without a doubt this evidence is beyond reproach.  The Memory Download Software was developed in his laboratory and fully funded by the Justice Department.  From the grave Tamara Collins has given testimony of the events of that night.  I know with all you have seen that you will see to it Zachary Richards will never commit either murder or necrophilia again.  I have full confidence that you the jury will find the defendant guilty on all charges.”

 

Tender Tentacles

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of romantic erotica containing adult language and sexual situations.  If you are below the age of eighteen years of age LEAVE NOW!  This is another one of those stories I wrote because of an image I saw on the Internet (just like in Curling).  Below is the very image that provoked this tale. 

Tender Tentacles

            Suki Sato stood in front of the table laden with fish, her knife in her hand.  The dirty look upon her face crinkling up her pert nose for the task at hand seemed endless.  Mr. Wang’s Fish Market was a busy place in the city of San Francisco and the wharf-side shop was crawling with customers.  Most of them were Americans who looked like they were straight out of the travel magazines.  A sigh heaved through her small chest and she yanked across another cold, wet and dead aquatic animal to begin gutting it up for sale.  Stuffing her brown hair under her hairnet she groaned silently and got to work.

            It’s raining outside, I’m stuck in here chopping up fish and I’m lonely, the she groused to herself.  To think I left this kind of situation in Japan only to suffer it here in America is ironic.

          The only bright spot stood across from her at the same table.  A black haired Asian beauty worked in silence.  She had found herself grinning unexpectedly when the newcomer was introduced by Mr. Wang.  But Lin Arimori had kept her eyes downcast ever since then.  It was obvious this employee fresh off the plane.  Although Suki was from Japan she knew without a doubt Lin was from Korea.  Her rounder eyes and softer facial features were a testament to her heritage.  Somehow Suki knew finding a job here at Mr. Wang’s and working here part-time was less than this girl expected.  She still felt the same way since coming from Toyko.  That fact didn’t deter the other woman, for it only being her first day on the job she appeared too serious and focused.  Suki, on the other hand was well versed in her chores having been here for six months. 

            Looking over she tried not to stare in fear of getting caught.  Lin was heavier in the chest, her breasts rolling and shuddering with every flashing of her knife.  The stray ebony strands escaping the confines of her hair net made Suki’s fingers itch to push them back out of the way.  Her soft skin, those deep brown eyes and the puckered bow-like lips had provided her with too much of a distraction.  She had nipped herself with her sharp blade once already producing a thin ribbon of blood which had run down her fingertip.  She stuck it into her mouth just before going to the medical kit hanging on the wall.  Fortunately for Suki, Lin hadn’t realized what exactly had happened.  Nor could she see the interest boiling out of her.

            “It’s lunch time!” Mr. Wang called out twice, once in Japanese and the other in Korean. 

           She had been so bothered by her musings she hadn’t heard the man come into the backroom.  The rest of them, an even dozen smiled and set down their tools and quickly made their way out.  They clucked and chatted like a pack of noisy hens.  Mr. Wang seemed to exclusively employ Asian women from a variety of nations.  But he was fond of Japanese or Koreans. He seemed to like to employ only people from those two countries.  Suki knew this was the case because the shop holder was from Okinawa but his wife was from Seoul.  She took great delight in noticing that Lin reacted at the first announcement.

            She speaks Japanese, how interesting. 

            After their co-workers filed out of the backroom.  However looking quite confused and unsure what to do Lin stood there waiting for someone to tell her where to go and what to do.

            “You didn’t bring lunch?” Suki asked.

            “No I had a hard time getting up,” she muttered, still avoiding Suki’s eyes.

            “I brought enough for two do you want to share?”

            “I would be honored.”

            “You’re name is Lin, right?”

            “Yes.”

            “My name’s Suki—I’m from Japan.  Where were you born?”

            “Korea.”

            “I see.  Don’t be shy I won’t bite.”

            Unless you want me to.

            She handed the other woman the second of two sandwiches she had brought from her small apartment a few blocks away.  Luckily Suki had a spare Coke as well.  Silently they both sat on stools away from the cutting table, their backs to the wall.

            “I sense you’re very sad,” the Japanese woman boldly said.  “Do you miss your home and family?”

            “Yes,” Lin whispered.  “My brother didn’t make it.  The soldiers at the docks chased him down.  He was helping me into the boat when they spotted us, he ran away to distract them.  I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

            “You’re from North Korea then.”

            “Yes.”

            “Are you all alone here?”

            “Mr. Wang works with an organization that helps people like my brother and I to escape the terrible regime in the North.  I owe him much.”

            “I’m so sorry about your brother.  I’m sure in time he’ll join you.”

            “I pray this will be the case.  But he had no where to run back to since our family had disowned us both.”

            Eating in silence once more Suki couldn’t help but be curious about the details of Lin’s escape. It was a pleasant change in her thoughts distracting her from the nearness of this beautiful woman.  However she watched as a tear ran down her perfect cheek and the need to kiss it away was almost too great. 

            “You’re very pretty but you need to smile more often,” she said eventually.  “You’re in America now and the possibilities are endless.  You can go to school and get a good education, even become an activist or a lawyer and help people like your brother.”

            “I-I hadn’t thought of that,” the yellow skinned beauty stammered.

            “It’s true!  There is so much opportunity here it’s unbelievable.  All you need is some friends and a good laugh.”

            “I don’t think I’ll ever laugh again—not after Chen.”

            “I can make you laugh I bet!”

            Jumping up a strange humor filled her soul and with a silly grin she scampered over to the table.  Suki snapped up an uncut octopus and slapped it on her head, the rubbery tentacles coldly caressing her face and dripping sea water down her neck.  Turning in place she struck a comical antagonist’s pose, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

            “Argh!” she laughed. “It’s the revenge of the hentai tentacle beast–it has returned from the cold sea!  Run for your lives!”

            The astonished look on Lin’s face was priceless.  The hand holding her sandwich was frozen halfway to her lips for several for several awkward and silent seconds.  A smile split the Korean’s face and she covered her mouth with a dainty hand to cover her giggling laughter.  The tinkling sound was infectious and soon Suki found she was snickering uncontrollably as well. 

            “You are so funny!” Lin wailed, tears running down her face.

            “I told you I could make you smile.”

            Surprisingly her lunch mate leaped to her feet and ludicrously jammed another of the many limbed sea creature on her own skull.  Jokingly she pranced around striking hysterical stances, like some weird model and making funny grunting noises.  The oozing limbs quivering and swinging while she moved.  The water dipping down her features washing away her tears. 

            “All run in fear from the sequel!  It’s the Twin Tentacle Beasts!” Lin said in an movie announcer’s voice.  “No one is safe!  Flee to the hills—scream in terror!”

             Suki fell to her knees, her stomach aching from all the merriment.  Wrapping her arms around her middle she hugged the cramping sensations contorting her belly.  Wiping tears from her eyes sat down on the floor.

            “Thank you,” her co-worker said amid a fit of giggling.  “I really needed that.”

            She sank down in front of her.  Lin’s sweet face just a foot away from Suki’s making the desire to kiss her take precedence in her mind. 

            “I would like to be your friend,” the Korean said.

           The soft expression which crossed her features as she spoke made Suki blush out of embarrassment, this woman only wanted to be her friend.  All the wishing in the world wouldn’t transform her into a lover.  She felt sadness well up into her soul, for too long she had been single.  Leaving her last lover in Japan Suki had yet to find another for the hectics days had been spent just trying to survive in San Francisco.  The newcomer cocked an eyebrow at her reaction.  Turning away for her misery would only drag Lin back down into her own.  She didn’t want that to happen.

             “You are sad too,” the taller woman softly stated.

            “I-it’s nothing,” she lied.

            “Don’t be unhappy.  Look!  Your sister Tentacle Beast is about to stick out her tongue at the world!”

            Turning to face Lin her mouth dropped open in shock.  The woman had put a chopped up tentacle into her mouth and it hung down to her lap making her look like some strange drooling creature.  Between the limply hanging rubber strands dangling off Lin’s head and the bizarre mouthful she was sporting Suki’s sorrow disappeared.  Reaching out she grabbed up the other end and stuffed it between her lips.  Between choking fits of mirth and watery eyes they sat there on the cold, watery concrete floor like two female asylum inmates.  Suki’s merriment was halted unexpectedly when Lin reached out a hand and put it on her shoulder.  The contact made the moment freeze in time.  Eons passed while the warmth of the other woman’s hand sank into her shirt and infused a hot feeling throughout her body.

            “Lin I’m not sure…,” she blubbered past a slimy mouthful.

            An expression passed across Lin’s face like a cloud crossing the summer sky.  Leisurely it seemed to hang there.  The woman’s hand descending from her shoulder sent heated chills into Suki’s mind.  Sitting like a statue she watched as Lin undid the buttons to her blouse and tugged down the straps of her bra.  Cold air of the back room caressing the flesh of her chest made her realize this was no lesbian fantasy of hers.  She was not lying on her bed, masturbating to a dreamed up scene from her fevered and frustrated imagination.  She was really experiencing this pleasant drifting upon a boiling sea of hot emotions   The icy chill and the searing anticipation made her nipples erect and protrude, hoping for the possibility of being touched, caressed or kissed. 

            “Really Lin you shouldn’t…,” she began.

            “Sssh be quiet I want to,” answered the pretty woman mumbled, still kneeling in front of her.

            Shivering with anticipation Suki just waited, her breath husking out between quivering lips.  Finally an errant palm and long fingers slid down to encompass her small A-cup breast.  Both of them groaned in ecstasy while her bosom was kneaded and squeezed.  A flood of desire exploded from her soul and filled her with a passion she had long given up on.

          “Your breasts are so petite.  So firm and soft,” Lin warbled past the tentacle.

          She couldn’t formulate a reply, only sigh and moan with pleasure.  Suki locked her gaze with the one from this magnificent woman’s.  In the Korean girl’s eyes she thought she could fathom the reason she had been cast out of her family.  Why this gorgeous creature had left her homeland and why her brother trying to protect her.  She wasn’t sure this was real. 

         It could be only a fantasy, a made-up story I creating as she fondles me.  Oh this feels so good!  I’ve missed being touched!

        But the idea that Lin was the same as her, a woman who loved other women made her heart pound like a wild thing in her chest.  It felt like it was trying to break past her ribs and drop into Lin’s hands a visible gift proving her secret admiration and desire.  Like the ropey length of gray octopus tentacle hanging between their lips, the unspoken questions they both longed to ask dangled there in a tantalizing silence.  Lin unbuttoned her top displaying the C-cupped beauties she possessed.  The silent kneading of her tits and the unabashed exposure making Suki’s heart swell with an aching need.  The comical scene was transcended by the shining affection in both of their eyes. 

       Lin was beautiful.  Her perfect pink capped breasts, the flesh of her bosom dotting with goose-pimple made Suki almost pass out.  Shockingly Lin was leaning forward placing her other hand on Suki’s other breast.  Responding kind, she too reached out taking both of those tantalizingly soft globes in her hands, her thumbs brushing the engorged buds.  Their heavy weight and womanly warmth made her moan and close her eyes.  Fondling each other in silence the two women pinched and kneaded one another, words now meaningless.  Oozing out of her bow-like lips the grayed flesh of the tentacles flopped out and hit the floor with a splat.  Suki parted her jaws releasing the other end.

            “I want to kiss you,” Lin whispered.  “Would you like that?”

            “I-I can’t believe this,” she hoarsely muttered. “Are you being serious?  If you’re lying you will break my heart.”

            Bending at the waist she made good on her admittance.  Those pert flower-like lips met hers.  A soft moan escaped her co-worker’s mouth while their tongues danced and cavorted.  The kiss was too brief it left Suki only wanting more.

            “No I am being sincere,” Lin demurely stated, looking down. “I have been watching you watch me. If you had been paying more attention you would’ve seen me doing the same.  When you cut yourself I wanted to kiss the hurt away.  I felt the connection between us, like our hearts were talking without us knowing about it.  I tried to turn away, to concentrate on my work but since I first laid eyes on you my heart was lost.  Say you feel the same way.”

            Suki was shocked and saw tears forming in Lin’s eyes.  She wiped them away.

            “I do feel the same.  I can’t believe y-you’re gay?” she asked.

            “What is gay?” the Korean asked quizzically.  “If you mean that I crave a women’s touch instead of a man’s then you are right.  My family disowned me because I refused to marry some bow-legged young man in our village.  My parents were angry when I refused for they had spent a lot of money on the marriage broker who arranged it all.  My brother risked being cast out as well just to help me leave the country.  Chen risked his own happiness so his little sister could live as she wished.”

            “That is so noble.”

            “He was a good man.”

            “Where are you staying?” Suki inquired.

            “Mr. Wang is letting me stay above the shop for right now,” Lin stated.

            “Would you like to go out after work for tea perhaps?”

            “I’d like that.  We have much to discuss and I very much wish to explore the feelings you have stirred in my heart.”

            “Your thoughts equal mine.”

            Footsteps shook them out of the strange, comical but romantic scene.  Lin kissed her again.  It still wasn’t long enough for Suki’s taste but it held all the promise and passion of better things to come.  Quickly stuffing themselves into bras and shirts they stood up just as their co-workers came back.  Striking silly poses like some wierd pop-icon singers they both shocked and amused their fellow fish gutters.  They joined the howling laughter which penetrated into the front of the shop.  Mr. Wang came running into the back to stare in shock at the two women wearing fishy and bizarre headgear. 

            Winking at the taller woman Suki smiled at the anticipation of getting off work, showering and having tea with Lin.  Her dreary mood dispersed in the sunshine of Lin’s returned grin.  Hope blossomed anew in her heart.

            Perhaps today wasn’t such a bad day after all, she mused silently.