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“I’d not even wait to lie down, Juliette. I’d drop my dress and tug my own nipples, imagining your mouth on them. How you’d bite and suck and torment me. How you’d make me beg. How you’d mark me and tease me. How you’d tear my underwear and get down on your knees in front of me. How you’d spread my cunt. You’d see how wet I’d be for you, how wet I am for you…”

Juliette actually screamed. The second orgasm slammed into her like a freight train, taking the last of her oxygen away, and the hand at her throat, despite not doing anything but hold there, made her vision gray at the corners.

The words… The imagery… Katarina, God, Katarina…

Who kept talking and stroking.

“And you’d lick me, Juliette, would you? In my fantasies you always licked me. You have such a beautiful mouth, it would look so pretty covered in my taste, covered in the desire for you. Don’t you think so?”

Katarina withdrew her hand, fingers slipping gently out of Juliette, and the bereft feeling was almost too much, until Juliette opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. Or that she had the power to stop time. Katarina was licking her fingers. One by one, the teasing tongue was savoring. The feral, dazed eyes half-closed in ecstasy. Juliette bit her aching lip and clenched around nothing, pushing her hips into Katarina’s, and then the wicked mouth smiled.

“I knew you’d taste amazing, Juliette. I can’t wait to drink you up, spread you open, and devour you.”

“Oh God…” Juliette felt more than heard her own gasp.

“No, he has nothing to do with any of this. Just you. Just me, Juliette. Just our fantasies about fucking each other. Have you had fantasies about me, Juliette?”

Katarina gave her own fingertips one last lick before lowering them again, except she didn’t return them to where Juliette craved them most.

Clothes rustled, and then the hand was lifted to Juliette’s face. Out of bare instinct, Juliette opened her mouth.

“Fuck…”

Katarina had dipped her fingers inside herself, and Juliette could taste their mingling flavors, tangy, sweet, unforgettable. She wrapped her tongue around the two fingers and sucked. It was Katarina’s turn to moan.

“Such a good girl. Such a pretty, pretty mouth. Juliette…”

Juliette sucked harder, letting instinct take over again, and lifted her own hand, tugging and plucking at the tightly furled nipples separated from her touch by a sheer blouse and a bra. Almost nothing and yet too much. She threw caution to the wind and tore the silk, lifting the surprisingly demure cotton, and then pinched the erect buds. Katarina sagged in her arms.

“Yes, yes, just like that. That is how I imagined you, Juliette. That’s what you’d do to me.”

Juliette released the fingers in her mouth with one last nip.

“And then, what would I do then, Katarina?”

Katarina moaned and then laughed. A happy, honest sound. So joyful, so sincere. Juliette’s heart stopped for a beat, then two, and when Katarina gave her a tiny peck on the tip of her nose, Juliette shuddered. No, there would be no recovery from this.

“Then you’d ravish me, Juliette. What else?” Katarina laughed again and then kissed her, a deep, sensuous connection of lips. Juliette tugged at her hand, and they stumbled into the direction of the bedroom.

“Well then. I have my instructions, madame. Let’s see about putting my beautiful—was it?—mouth to good use. I can’t let you down.”

In the darkness of the apartment, Katarina’s eyes were wide, her face unreadable as she murmured, “You can’t, Juliette. You can’t.”

Juliette tried not to dwell on the fact that Katarina put all the emphasis on the wordyouand chose to kiss her instead. It was sweet, with an aftertaste Juliette couldn’t identify.

18

OF LOSS & WASTED LIVES

Sometime between the second and third acts, they made it to Juliette’s bedroom. The encore was even better between cool sheets.

Later, when the only sound was the rain beating a bluesy rhythm on the roof, they lay cocooned under the blankets, enveloped in each other. Katarina’s head was on Juliette’s shoulder. The sensation that no head had ever occupied this space before and seemed like it belonged was overwhelming.

Everything was saturated with this exact impression. No arm had ever wrapped itself around Juliette’s waist and settled exactly this way. No breath had tickled Juliette’s collarbone and felt absolutely perfect there even if it periodically sent shivers through her.

The sound and smell of rain, coming in like a welcome guest through the cracked window, had never been this magical. This perfectly timed.

Juliette wanted to shake her head at her own silliness and maybe a touch of whimsical, wishful thinking. But the world would intrude soon enough and shatter the wonderful pink glasses she had unwittingly donned. So why rush it?