Page 22

Holy motherfucking shit!

She realized her right hand had started rubbing her mound, adorned only with a narrow strip of hair. To keep from masturbating right there in the shower, she forced herself to think of Mr. Smith—real name Bozza—and his carotid endarterectomy tomorrow: Her patient’s age and underlying health conditions; the discussion she needed to have with the anesthesiologist before Mr. Bozza was brought to the OR; who her OR staff tomorrow were; where she would make her first incision…

Doing this, she was able to walk herself back from wanting to quickly pleasure herself next door to the showering Rachel. Good thing, too, because Ainsley knew herself well enough to doubt she could have come quietly.

Chapter 9

Rachel had had so much fun!

It had been forever since she had just been able to hang out with so many women, having fun playing a sport they all clearly loved and doing so without any pressure. It had been just as Ainsley promised. Not a league, just a bunch of friends. No standings or rankings to worry about; no prize at the end of the season to chase. In short, none of the drawbacks of playing in a competitive sport. And though each team today wanted to win each set, the competition was lighthearted and fun.

And Ainsley’s friends were amazing! Most of them were tall like Ainsley or even taller. She especially liked Krissy—one of the shorter women like Rachel—an investment adviser with such an infectiously bubbly personality that Rachel wanted her on call to talk to whenever she was having a bad day. And Becca, the six-foot-tall firefighter! She was like something out of one of those Marvel superhero movies! When Becca had “rescued” her after that third set by scooping her up so easily and carrying her back to Ainsley’s side of the net, Rachel had thought it was among the top ten sexiest things that had ever happened to her!

And, good heavens! Speaking of sexy things…

Ainsley in a sports bikini!

If Rachel still had any doubts about just how attracted she was to Ainsley, despite being a straight woman, they were erased the moment she saw Ainsley doff those cut-off shorts she had been wearing to reveal the tiny bikini bottoms underneath.

Ainsley fully clothed was a vision.

Ainsley practically naked had taken Rachel’s breath away.

And her body had reacted.

From the way the blood in her system started pooling south of her waist, engorging her clit and her pussy’s lips, priming her inner walls for penetration by lubricating them, Rachel knew one thing. She wanted Ainsley.

Naturally, she didn’t think she’d ever get her, though. Fine, she knew Ainsley was attracted to her, but so what? Ainsley also knew she was straight. Therefore, why would Ainsley, who could sit on a throne and pick and choose any lesbian she wanted to have sex with, choose her, a woman with absolutely zero experience pleasuring women?

It was inconceivable, Rachel considered. Especially since, if Sally’s Jillian Ashley books are to be believed, lesbians can come a lot during sex! And Ainsley certainly seemed like a woman who enjoyed coming a lot and was used to her lovers going out of their way to make sure they pleasured the blonde goddess completely.

“Have you ever been here?” Ainsley asked, intruding on Rachel’s thoughts.

They had just arrived at a coastal bar Ainsley suggested they go to after the volleyball games. The other women had been invited to join them, of course, but to a one they had other commitments, some personal, some professional—three of other women were also doctors and had shifts later; Becca was on duty tonight at one of the fire stations in Carlsbad—and so it was just Rachel and Ainsley.

After showering at the club, Rachel had changed into a simple blue-gray shift dress that was light and comfortable. Ainsley had put her denim cut-offs back on but had also donned a purple net bikini cover-up which was very bohemian in style.

“No, never,” Rachel said. “I used to date a guy who lived in Solana Beach but I’ve never been here.”

“Yet another example of how men disappoint their women,” Ainsley quipped. “Anyway, they make the best margaritas here!”

“And I think after my remarkable plays on the court today, you should buy me one,” Rachel teased.

“Deal.”

They were shown to a table on the back patio, right on the beach. Rachel immediately took out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the scene: the yellow-white sand, the blue Pacific with whitecaps, the clear sky…

“For my mom,” she explained to Ainsley. “She keeps asking me if I’m ever going to move back to Maine and so I frequently send her pics like this to show her why I’m never, ever, ever going to move back to Maine.”

Ainsley laughed.

“I love it!”

Just then, Ainsley’s phone beeped. Rachel got nervous, hoping it wasn’t the hospital needing Ainsley to get over there right away. Perhaps that was selfish, but Rachel really didn’t want her Sunday with Ainsley to end so abruptly.

Reading the message, Ainsley chuckled.

“Everything okay?” Rachel asked.