Chapter 3
Early Sunday morning the phone woke Sinclair. "Yes?" she croaked.
"Meet me at Francesco's for breakfast in an hour." The dial tone punctuated the unexpected command.
She sat up, rubbing her face. Then she realized what this meant. Regina could play with her this weekend. Within less than an hour Sinclair was showered, shaved, and waiting at a corner table in the neighborhood restaurant when Regina walked in.
"'Morning, sexy." Regina's eyes wandered with approval over Sinclair's blue floral sundress with its cleavage-enhancing neckline.
When she sat down, Sinclair pulled Regina's head briefly to hers for a kiss. She tasted like strawberry lip gloss.
"I hope that wasn't too presumptuous of me." Regina tucked her purse under the table. "But I woke up thinking about you this morning, so . . ." Her eyes twinkled.
The restaurant was small and well lit. Even though they sat in a corner, sun poured liberally over their table. It was like being on the sidewalk without the constant intrusion of people or traffic. Shelly had once recommended the place to Sinclair.
"I think I can handle that." Sinclair's belly danced, fluttering at Regina's attentions. The other woman's powerful and commanding personality was charming, something Sinclair could never stand in a man but now she found it inexplicably arousing.
"The Bloody Marys here are amazing," Regina murmured, pulling her chair closer to Sinclair's. "What are you having?" she asked.
"Eggs and toast." Sinclair couldn't eat anything else with her around. She was too stimulated. Her hands trembled against the tablecloth.
"Have at least one drink with that. It'll spice up your morning." She draped her arm over Sinclair's chair.
Awash in sunlight, Sinclair's skin tingled, begging to be touched. As if Regina had read her mind, Sinclair felt a hand on her knee.
The restaurant was crowded. Jaded urban animals, still hung over from last night's debauches, drooped over their drinks. Their faces were gray from having been forced to face the light of day so early. There were some people who'd traveled in just to go to the fairly popular restaurant. Excited chatter rolled side by side with low growls of reluctant conversation. Regina's fingers traced the skin on the inside of Sinclair's thigh.
"How was your night?" Regina asked.
"Good. I had a long bath, watched Bully reruns, and even read a little."
"Anything of mine?"
"No." She was such an egomaniac.
"Too bad. I was hoping you'd fall asleep thinking about me."
"That was the night before that." Sinclair met her eyes across the table.
Satisfied, Regina sat back. Her fingers traveled higher, brushing the lace edge of the panties Sinclair had worn just for her.
"I don't do too much on Friday nights either. After a little red wine, all I ever want to do is write."
"What? No research? I thought your search for more knowledge on your subject matter was limitless."
"You're right. My curiosity has no bounds." Her eyes flickered to Sinclair's mouth. "But one has to take some time to write down the results of all one's tireless research."
"Of course, silly me."
A waitress in low-rider jeans and a rainbow belly ring came over to take their order. Sinclair was vaguely surprised that Regina let the young girl go without trying to chat her up.
"Silly, never." Her long fingers lightly touched Sinclair through her panties then, after a teasing stroke, disappeared. "Other things, absolutely."
Sinclair took a deep drink of water.
"What kind of women do you like, Sinclair?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't given it much thought."
"Yeah, you have. Don't bullshit me." It was strange to see her elegant mouth shape that curse word. In the sweat of the bedroom, it was OK. Here in the restaurant it was raw, surprising.
She thought of the woman she'd most imagined touching. At Volk, while meetings dragged on, she'd imagined Margo Phelps fucking her until she screamed out the year-end financial goals to the whole building. Margo, Sinclair was convinced, was a closet lesbian, too, with her broad shoulders and short fingernails.
"Powerful women." She grinned, feeling bold. "Women with apple-sized breasts and high, round asses."
"Crab apple or Gala?"
Sinclair glanced at the other woman's breasts. "Granny Smith." They shared a naughty smile.
The waitress came back with a plate of artfully arranged toast and eggs and a pitcher of Bloody Marys. Regina poured a tall glass for each of them.
"A toast." She lifted her glass. "To apples."
Sinclair giggled. "To apples."
They went through two pitchers of Bloody Marys together, lifting their glasses to toast various parts of the female anatomy until all they had to work with were toes and hair follicles. Sinclair barely touched her food.
"You're very beautiful," Sinclair said over the fifth glass of her morning cocktail. "The first time I saw you I was totally thrown for a loop."
Regina laughed. "Was it the ass or witty repartee?"
"Neither. It was your mouth. It's so ... damn sexy," Sinclair's thoughts swam in her brain, mostly remaining out of reach. The words that came out of her mouth didn't seem to have any forethought attached to them. "The ass came later. When you were walking out of the elevator."
"My ass has been known to drop many a woman to her knees."
"Mm, can we practice that one again later?"
"We can practice it right now. They have nice big bathroom stalls here."
"OK, let's go." Sinclair stood up.
"I'm just kidding, honey." Regina pulled her back down with a soft tug and a laugh. "There's time enough for that later." She looked at her watch. "There's something else I want to show you today."
Sinclair leaned forward with childlike enthusiasm. "Is it a surprise?"
"Yes. Are you ready?"
Sinclair drained her glass in long, luxurious gulps. "Now I am."
Regina drove them in her Mercedes to a warehouse near the wharf. The sun slid over the wooden boxes and pallets in haphazard piles, making them almost beautiful. Quiet hung in the air. As they walked toward the single electronic door, it began to rise with a series of clangs and squeaks. As soon as they walked through it, the door started to lower. It hit the concrete floor with a loud bang, then a sound came out of the darkness, a fumbling of keys as if someone were locking it, locking them in.
"What is this?" Sinclair asked.
"You'll see."
Regina took Sinclair's hand in reassurance, then let go. An arrow of light from a high window led them to another room, or maybe it was a corner of the larger room. Sinclair couldn't tell. She couldn't see. But she could smell things. Oil from a car or large equipment. The scent of women and sex and baby powder. Regina led her up a flight of steep stairs.
Sinclair's head swam, but was getting clearer by the minute. Soft light flooded the room.
"We're here," Regina called out in a light teasing voice. Laughter greeted her announcement as women-tall, short, white, Asian, black, Latina-suddenly began emerging from the corners, all wearing some bit of lingerie or other.
"And we're ready," a tall woman chuckled, walking up to kiss Regina softly on her mouth. Her ebony skin gleamed in the faint light.
Sinclair counted five women. They looked at her and Regina with various degrees of amusement and anticipation.
"Is that all, Reggie?" the ebony queen asked.
"Is that all? Ha! You don't know what I've got." To Sinclair, Regina said, "Don't worry. You'll enjoy this."
A tall Asian woman with short hair clipped close to her head walked toward the trio. "You haven't told her what's going on?"
"And ruin the surprise? Of course not."
A few of the women laughed, low and predatory sounds that made Sinclair shudder in the warm warehouse.
Regina squeezed her hand again. "It'll be fine," she whispered.
Then at a signal from her, the women converged on Sinclair, pulling her deeper into the warehouse, where there was more light and what looked like a large sitting room with a mishmash of chairs and tables. A high platform bed with white sheets sat in the middle of the room.
"Come, make yourself comfortable," someone said.
As if Sinclair was being given a choice. They tugged her over to a leather Queen Anne chair the color of fresh blood and started pulling at her clothes, sweetly, if one could describe forced stripping as such, while looking at her with their heavy-lidded eyes. Regina stood a few feet away, watching, smiling.
"This is going to be fine," she mouthed. At least she would enjoy it.
"You've got pretty skin," a voluptuous woman said with a slight Spanish accent. Her long black hair tumbled over Sinclair as she leaned close. It smelled like cloves.
"Look at those fingers." The Asian woman smiled at Sinclair. "They're so long."
"She's skinny but still cute."
The woman with skin the color of night stroked Sinclair's face. "You could have been a model, baby."
"Or a stripper. Look at those hips. I bet you could bump and grind real good." The tall butchy woman with pale caramel skin wearing tight white boxers and a hacked-off tank top pulled Sinclair's dress over her head. She winked when she saw Sinclair looking. Her muscled belly pressed briefly against the accountant's cheek. Sinclair could smell her cologne and the spicy scent coming from inside her shorts.
"Gorgeous tits." Cool fingers brushed Sinclair's nipples. They let her keep on her panties.
"Can we tie her up?" This from a woman with brown hair and a soft, touchable body.
"No. Not yet." Regina still watched, still smiled.
Sinclair shivered in anticipation and fear. What had she gotten herself into? She didn't even know this woman. Did Regina even work for Volk? That was probably a fake name anyway. Why-?
The Asian woman pulled her clothes off, revealing a pleasing blend of soft breasts, lean belly, and narrow hips that were barely hidden by a low-cut bikini. She blew Sinclair a kiss and took off the bikini. Sinclair felt herself blush and she looked down, away from the woman's body.
"She's sweet," someone said.
"We'll fix that before the day is through."
Regina chuckled. "Open up your eyes, honey, the real show hasn't even started yet."
Sinclair had watched Regina perform in bed before, touched herself to some inner music only she heard. But this was nothing like that. These women were strangers. Sinclair was terrified, yet intrigued in a way that Regina must have known she would be.
"I'd never introduce you to anything that I thought you wouldn't be ready for," she'd said to Sinclair once. She should have paid attention to whatever else Regina had said that day.
The Asian woman was the only one naked. Everyone stayed in their provocative clothes-ripped denim shorts that sagged over boxers or bare skin, this season's Victoria's Secret panties and matching bra, lace negligee and bare feet. All on bodies that ran the gamut from full and fleshy to hard and toned, then back again.
"Watch."
They started to perform for Sinclair. Or rather, for Regina. Sinclair was just an incidental observer. The brown-haired woman touched the hard-bodied angel in the boxer shorts and ripped tank. She brushed her lace-covered breasts against Hard Body's back and was rewarded with a hand on her ass and a kiss. Breasts touched breasts through cloth, then fingers brushed the lace negligee aside for lips to kiss the revealed nipple. Hard Body quickly rid the other woman of her clothes. A tattoo of entwined, lushly green ivy wound all the way around the voluptuous woman's waist. Sinclair's panties suddenly felt too tight, too wet.
"You like?" Regina stood at Sinclair's chair, her mouth curved in that smile, clothes on, like the director of the show. Sinclair didn't know what to say. But her body was interested.
Regina looked down at Sinclair's hardened nipples and smirked. "I'll let you get back to it." Then she stepped back.
The women converged on the bed and on each other. Naked now, Hard Body sat down on the bed, and spread her legs for Ivy. She was shaved, with small and delicate lips that Ivy breathed over then began to lick. Even from where Sinclair sat she could see that Hard Body was already wet. Venus with the long black hair and heavy breasts sat higher up on the bed, watching as she stroked herself, caressed her thick brown nipples while her mouth opened in a delighted 0. She knelt just above Hard Body's head, close enough for her to smell and see, but not touch. Hard Body groaned and arched her pussy up toward the tattooed woman's mouth.
At the sound of that deep, delicious sound, Ivy gave up her cat licks and dove into her pussy as if she was starving, licking and eating her with hungry wet sounds that made Sinclair squirm against her chair. The Asian woman came up behind Ivy and interrupted her view. Sinclair blinked at the unexpected addition to her lean dancer's body-a dash-toned dildo attached with leather straps to her hips. It was already covered with a condom.
"Get on your knees for me." She guided Ivy to her knees, without interrupting the other woman's hungry, pussy-eating rhythm.
Her long hands spread the full curves of Ivy's ass, then with a graceful, practiced move, slid deeply inside the tattooed woman. Ivy grunted but continued to dine on her well-muscled lover, stroking the dark nipples above her head as she ate. Hard Body laughed softly. "This ain't no pettin' zoo, baby. Squeeze my tits like you mean it."
Venus took pity on her and interrupted her self-pleasure to push Ivy's hands away. She leaned over the muscled woman, brushing her thick hair aside to fasten her greedy mouth on Hard Body's breasts. Her tongue moved with sure, hard strokes while her finger pinched and rolled a dark nipple until the muscled woman gasped and groaned her encouragement. Venus's eyes swept up to meet Sinclair's, whose panties were now soaking wet; her breasts tingled beneath a thin layer of sweat. She wanted to be touched. Badly.
"Sit here." Someone guided Sinclair to a chair with a better view. "This is much better. Don't you think?"
Now she could see the long arch of the muscled woman's body draped across the bed, her neck stretched back against the sheets and vibrating to her heavy breaths as Venus with the long hair suckled her breasts from above, biting and squeezing the hard nipples. The long-haired woman had a hand buried between her own spread legs. Ivy's wet mouth rode Hard Body's undulating pussy while her hands anchored themselves on the dark thighs. As if Sinclair's eyes touching her was the signal, the Asian woman reared up behind Ivy, burying her brown dick deeper in the tattooed woman's drenched pussy. Ivy gasped, then groaned deep in her throat. A chorus of moans and gasps overtook the room.
"You like that?" The chocolate goddess sitting on the arm of Sinclair's chair finally pulled her attention from the scene in front of her. Sinclair licked her dry lips.
"They're very uninhibited."
"You could say that."
"Jesus-!"
Sinclair looked up in time to see Hard Body's hands wrap themselves in Ivy's hair, pulling her deeper against her pussy. Her gasps became louder in the lofted space. Suddenly Sinclair couldn't see. Soft cloth brushed her cheekbones and tightened behind her head. She stiffened.
"Relax." Regina's voice dripped, melting sugar sweet, near her ear.
"Did you bring us an innocent to corrupt, Reggie?" someone murmured from nearby.
"Me? Never." Regina chuckled, then brushed her lips against Sinclair's. "Listen," she commanded.
Noises slipped out at her from the darkness-the slap of flesh against flesh, ragged moaning, hisses, gasps, the slide of sweat-drenched bodies.
"Faster," someone urged breathlessly. Beside her, Sinclair heard hands against cloth, the sound of someone undressing, lips meeting in a wet kiss, a giggle. A hand brushed Sinclair's throat.
"If you ever want to stop, to go home, just say the word." Regina's breath hovered near her ear, waiting.
"I will."
She rewarded Sinclair with a deep kiss. "Good girl."
When the sounds shifted back, she felt a hovering at her mouth, then the soft brush of something. "Open your mouth."
It was a finger, fragrant with the scent of a woman's body. She took the whole finger into her mouth, licking until it was completely clean.
"She's a natural at this," someone, not Regina, said.
Soft laughter teased her. She bit into the finger in her mouth.
"And she's got teeth, too." The finger withdrew.
Gentle hands brushed her neck and jaw. "So pretty." Lips grazed her throat. Waves of sensation rolled from the contact point and pooled between her legs. Something brushed against her lips. Sinclair licked it and was rewarded with a soft hum of delight. A nipple. She started to lift her hands, to keep the breast close, but other hands held down her own. Sinclair nuzzled the breast, teasing it with her mouth and adding her own sounds of pleasure to the ones raining down on her.
A weight pushed her legs apart. The chair slowly reclined. Warm breath brushed her toes, her knees, her thighs. The sounds in the warehouse burned through her, the gasping breaths, soft frantic sucking, the grunting of someone wielding a dildo, a loud cry for Jesus. Hands tugged her panties off. The chair reclined all the way back, and a body straddled hers. The breasts returned to her face. This time she didn't even try to touch them, her mouth arched up and devoured soft flesh, tasting and testing the firmness of the underside of one heavy breast. The nipples were like blackberries. She bit them gently.
When a mouth touched her pussy, she gasped, then arched into it. The skin under her mouth became even more interesting. She wanted to take more of it inside. Two hot mouths enfolded each of her nipples at the same time and sent her body into sensual overload. A deep moan vibrated against the soft flesh under her lips. She widened her legs for the mouth eating her and arched against the twin mouths that were driving her out of her mind.
"What are you feeling, Sinclair?"
It took a moment for her to hear Regina's voice. Then another moment for her to respond. The full mound of flesh eased back to allow her voice room.
Sinclair nodded then gasped as the mouth between her legs reached her clit, its tongue doing a miraculous dance against the bundle of nerves. "Good," she murmured. "It feels good."
"I asked how you feel. Be specific." Regina's voice was so damn cool. It sent sparks shooting across Sinclair's skin as if she'd touched her.
"Li-like ... like a piece of volcanic rock." She gasped as the mouths worked her breasts, making soft liquid sounds that distracted her from Regina's voice almost as much as the tongue between her legs. "Like I'm in a mountain ... churning in hot lava ... waiting for the explosion."
"Ladies," Regina's voice lowered. "Why are you keeping her waiting?"
A soft mouth brushed hers. A hard tongue slid deep inside her. Teeth and mouths tightened around her breasts, milked them until the connection between her cunt, tits, and mouth was liquid but unbreakable. Her mountain exploded in a haze of fire. And that was just the first time.
"I think we wore her out, poor thing."
"She looks so cute."
"Can we take her home next time?"
Soft laughter followed them back into the lowering sun. Sinclair snuggled into the scented leather of Regina's car, curled into the backseat, her mind and body completely exhausted.
"Home, Jeeves." Sinclair weakly tapped on the back of the driver's seat.
Regina's soft laughter gently nudged her into sleep.
Sinclair woke up in Regina's bed. Sunset had come and gone and now night was beginning its slow descent upon the city. The curve of soft gray light pouring through the window reminded her of a woman's back, shadowed, hollow, curved. She turned away from the light and closed her eyes. The hours that had led to her exhaustion and her eventual nap came pouring into her brain like acid. She rolled away from its awareness, but the images came at her in clear Technicolor. She couldn't even blame the alcohol for it. If anything she had been drunk on Regina, on the power the writer had wielded over her. Still, that was no excuse. Toward the end she'd wanted it, wanted the spectacle almost as much as Regina, wanted to see what heights these women could take their bodies, and hers, to.
And now she was here. From far off in the apartment she could hear Regina puttering about. Top forty R & B floated into the bedroom and just below it was the sound of Regina's voice. The woman was adventurous, uninhibited. Sinclair had known that when she read her books, had even looked forward to fulfilling some fantasies with her. But was this too much? And what about this other mysterious person that Regina was seeing? Were they getting as much of a workout as Sinclair?
Outside the window, city lights flashed, winking on in a domino of brightness that quickly spread out farther than Sinclair's eyes could see. She heard Regina approaching the bedroom with sure footsteps and still carrying the melody of a song on her lips. Sinclair slid back under the covers and pretended to sleep.