French considered her options. She could think about the best way to get into Frys pants in the next few hours, without disregarding her needs, or she could concentrate on how it was that Louisas box of goodies had backfired on her. Decisions, decisions...
Fry won that contest hands down. French turned the force of her mind to plotting. Shed come up with several approaches and had to scrap them all.
Indicative of her attempts was this finely shaped piece of mental gymnastics. It hadnt taken French long to find a loophole in the social contract subclause on giving other peoples feelings due regard. She reasoned that feelings were changeable, fickle things. And being sensitive to them on the whole was probably a bad idea.
Damn, shed have to go the sensitive route until she could come up with something better, or Fry caved in to her aggressive form of desparation.
With that settled, she let the Louisa conundrum float through her mind. Louisa had to have a connection on the inside somewhere. Was it Nigel? French didnt think that was likely. That snake wouldnt have shared the information. Hed have used it himself. Someone French didnt know perhaps?
The day struggled by. French was locking up and doing rounds. Everybody had gone except Fry who was downstairs putting linens away and waiting for her to finish up. Then, French had told her, shed take her home. The best thing she could come up with in the being sensitive to Frys needs department was to do a condensed version of the getting to know you buffer time Fry had requested. Then they could get on with it.
She was walking down from the second floor dining room when she felt a breeze. Someone had come in the side door. It didnt take her long to figure out who it was.
Hello French, Mrs. Redmond would like a word with you. It was Tim and a couple of Mitchells boys. They had fanned out in the hallway.
She can make a reservation like everybody else. Now get out of my restaurant before I kick your ass. Again. French didnt have time for this crap, there was a woman downstairs who needed her feelings seen to.
Tim smiled, hed hoped French would be difficult. She said she didnt mind if you got accidently damaged on the way over. Just to keep the blood to a minimum because shes got a new carpet from Pakistan or something like that. So this can go either way.
French shrugged and walked toward the three men whod formed a V type formation with Tim at the apex. She stopped six feet in front of him with his lackeys flanking her on either side. These were fit young men who looked like theyd probably broken a few bones in their time. Not their own.
They were standing in the hall in front of the kitchen door and French hoped Fry would stay put for a few more minutes. This shouldnt take longer than that. If no one pulled a gun. And the fact that no one had, indicated that these were the macho kind of guys that would have cut their own throats before admitting they needed a gun to bring her in. Lucky French.
You know Tim, I have a hunch that no matter what I do, youre going to try to pop me one. So why dont we have at it? Or are you afraid Ill make you look bad in front of your friends?
He was going to get the opportunity to find out. There was a noise in the kitchen and the lackey next to the door turned his head to look through the window into the room. French had positioned herself well and delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of the other guys head on her right. She hoped it would scramble his brains long enough for her to deal with her next objective - the guy looking through the window. She came back around in time to see that hed spun back at the sound of his comrad being bashed and he took a dive at her.
French ducked and slammed him in the gut with her shoulder. He doubled over her back, and she jibed upward viciously with her opposing elbow, catching him right in the face. The weight on her back went dead. She braced herself at the knees, because it would have been a really bad moment to strain her back. She pushed upward with all of her strength, throwing him as much as she could manage in Tims way.
It wasnt like Tim had never seen a woman fight before. Hed been to the movies. But there was a part of his brain that couldnt accept that French had done what hed seen her do. And even though shed kicked him senseless a while back, he couldnt help but think that had been a freak accident. After all, hed hit his head as hed fallen, right? He pulled his gun.
Of course Fry chose that moment to poke her head through the kitchen door. She glanced at the bodies on the floor. She looked at Tim who was holding a gun on French. They both looked at her.
Am I interrupting something? she asked.
Shut up! Tim was feeling out of sorts.
Fry, why dont you call it quits for tonight? Ill catch you later. Bye.
No, I think she stays. Tim said. You get your hands where I can see them.
French raised her hands slowly. She was standing midway between Fry and Tim. Shes not involved. Let her go.
Gee French, you didnt used to care so much about your girlfriends. Could it be youve actually fallen for one of your whores? Tim was feeling more in control. His two coworkers didnt look so good, but he was doing alright and he may even have had an insight. When hed called the little woman a whore, theyd both flinched.
French turned slowly to look at Fry who was directly behind her. Get back in the kitchen. She ordered in the most authoritarian tone she could dig up.
Youre kidding right?
That was Fry, true to form with a question. French decided she liked consistency in a woman.
Would you shut up and do what I tell you for once? French gestured broadly with her arms. Her frustration and anxiety beginning to show, or so she wanted Tim to think. So that Fry wouldnt think it too, she winked at her.
You think you say jump and Ill say how high, is that it? Fry picked up on the game plan.
Christ are you married? Move it, I dont care what you do with the bitch, just get her to shut up and lets go.
Too bad Tim was paying more attention to his repartee and not how Frenchs arm lagged behind as shed turned back to face him. If hed been Mitchell, he might have recognized the feint. He may also have moved. As it was, he didnt and the knife that French whipped out from the back of her jacket sliced into his hand and knocked the gun out of his grasp. It stung too. Son of a bitch!
French was standing a few feet from him, she stepped forward. Not only had he said three very nasty curse words in the space of two minutes, but two of them had been directed at Fry. She was surprised the sensitive woman hadnt had an attack. Shed have to take care of Tim quickly, in case he decided to curse again.
A perfectly executed windmill kick is an awesome physical display. Being on the receiving end of it sucks. Tims head was whipped one direction then slammed in the other. He hit the wall and was out before French had regained her footing.
God, that mustve hurt! Fry exclaimed.
Its not so bad, Ill put some ice on it. French noticed the blood that had stained her jacket at the elbow. The lackys face had bled on it. The bone was kind of sore from hitting his teeth.
Oh, your arm! Fry noticed the blood too.
Yeah, my arm. Dont tell me you meant Mr. Potty Mouth over there!
Didnt you hear that crunch?
Fry, the guys whore attacking us, who try to do us harm? Theyre the bad guys. If they get banged around in the process of being bad, thats their problem. If you can remember this, Im the good guy. At least for the time being. I would appreciate that if I get banged around in the process of being the good guy, that I get a little credit. Okay?
Well sure. I didnt know you felt so strongly about it. You dont seem to like that kind of attention. As of now, Im put on notice. Next time you get so much as a scratch in the name of the greater good, Im all over it. And wasnt that the truth.
Well alright then. Lets get these guys out of here.
What are we going to do with them? Fry asked.
Bring them back to where they came from.
French tied the men up and they dragged them out to their car in the parking lot. French began to stack them in the back seat, but Fry insisted she sit them up. This was beyond puzzling to the chef, but she did it anyway. When it came time to drag Tim in, French joked that she ought to stick a bar of soap in his mouth, just to emphasize a point.
Fry got a sinking feeling. Tell me you didnt nearly crack his skull open because he cursed at me.
Well I know you dont like that kind of language. But no, it wasnt the cursing.
It was the implications of the cursing.
Fry covered her eyes and rubbed her temples. Being around a French who was callous and insensitive to her feelings had been a difficult thing to take, but maybe one who cared wouldnt be any easier. Lets get them home. I dont think I can take much more today.
Theyd deposited the unconscious trio at a side gate to the Redmond estate. Someone would see them sooner or later. French wanted to pile them at the roadside and take the car. Fry insisted they leave it.
Theyd arrived at Frys house without much incident. There were a few small ones along the way. They mainly consisted of French trying to drag her onto park benches or back her into shadowed doorways and the like. But Fry had made up her mind. It was all moving too quickly. She wanted to actually talk to French about what was happening, but the chef wasnt giving her an opportunity, and to be honest, Fry hadnt been difficult to sidetrack.
French had finally come to the conclusion that shed waited an entire shift, so what was the problem? Who was being insensitive to whom? She had needs too didnt she?
Fry was well aware of Frenchs needs and became worried that theyd encountered another stumbling block in their newly sprouted relationship. French wasnt used to waiting for anything and she was making that abundantly clear. It wasnt like Fry wanted to hold her off for more than one darned conversation. French had declared her frustration when Fry had jumped off of her lap in the park after the chef had cleverly maneuvered them onto a bench. Shed said, Maybe Ill sit here and wait for someone a little more cooperative to wander by. Ive had luck here before.
Fry had responded with the maturity that comes from long hours of introspection. Shed said, Ew.
French had laughed and followed her out of the park. It kind of cleared the air to have Fry call her bluff like that.
Fry wasnt thinking Ew several minutes later. Anything but. French had agreed that theyd worn that day right out and they should have a chaste goodnight kiss and try it again tomorrow. Shed quickly amended her slip to see each other again tomorrow, but Fry wasnt buying it. Either French had no experience or understanding of the word chaste, or shed misrepresented her intentions.
Its not that she hadnt been kissing French back. She just wasnt kissing her back with the same end result in mind. Or so she gathered from the way the chef was working at the buttons of her shirt and pushing into her in general. And its not like she was one to point fingers, as she was pushing right back and doing her darndest to pull French as close as she could get her without occupying the same space in time.
When French broke the kiss and began to make her jolly way down Frys neck with kisses and bites that were just this side of gentle, a small voice in Frys head began to speak up. It was so small she might not have noticed it. The protest it made was heartily ignored elsewhere in her body. Her hips for example hadnt heard a thing, they were paying closer attention to the sensation being caused by Frenchs teeth grazing the sensitive skin below her collar bone. The voice, knowing that it was about to be history, grew more insistent.
It said, If this is what she thought when I said slower, Id hate to see what she does when shes in a hurry. Maybe I ought to ask Skyler and find out. That threw a little water on Frys overheated response to the hands that were easing the hem of her shirt from her pants. It didnt snuff it, but it did give her pause for thought. She knew Skyler and Alyssa were dating and it seemed like they liked each other, but Fry hadnt asked anyone about particulars. She made a mental note to start asking more of them, to someone other than French.
Hey, this isnt exactly what I had in mind when I was talking about a date. She tried for light. She couldnt get herself to let go of French, but she was able to pull back.
French wasnt in a talking mood. She had an urge and conversation had very little to do with it. She attempted a brief response to get Fry back on track. Lets improvise. She moved forward again, and as Fry hadnt backed away, French leaned down to capture her lips. Fry, the sneak, turned her head at the last moment, and French was presented with an ear. She was improvising, so it wasnt a problem.
Frys knees went weak at the sensation that Frenchs tongue on her ear shot down her spine. But what about Skyler? She persisted.
Skyler could bug off and get her own, French wasnt sharing. But what about Skyler, she thought. She cursed herself for letting Fry distract her and took the bait. What about her? She wasnt giving up Frys ear entirely, not for anything. She licked at the lobe again and nuzzled Frys hair. She smelled good.
Ummm... Fry was having a hard time remembering what it was she was supposed to be asking. Skyler, right. Are you two... I mean, I thought that at the beginning of the summer you two were involved.
If there was one thing that might put a damper on the fire raging in Frenchs body. Fry had found it. Frenchs actions slowed. She didnt withdraw, she wasnt that far gone. But she leaned back, took Fry by the shoulders, looked in her eyes and asked, What?
I have no idea what gave you that impression, but youre wrong. Shes a kid Fry, come on! And I havent had the urge in months. This is the closest Ive come to sex since I met that damned Frenchman and I dont feel like talking.
Shes not a kid. Anyone who looks at her can see that. And what do you mean, you havent had the urge? What Frenchman? Frys resolve strengthened. They really did need to talk.
Do we have to talk about this now?
No, we can talk about it on our date. She wasnt thinking clearly, it was the one thing that kept popping in her mind to say. French didnt strike her as the date kind of date which was probably why theyd gotten as near to having sex on the walkway in front of Frys home as shed ever hoped to get.
Were back to that again are we? French got the hint. Fry was only going so far that night.
Like you said, if you havent had the urge in a while, maybe breathing a bit beforehand is a good idea.
We have very different approaches to this situation. French buttoned Frys shirtfront for the second time that day. She smoothed the fabric, then leaned down and kissed her a good one on the lips. For good measure. When she felt the smaller womans knees falter, she backed off. Smiling a friendly, albeit predatory smile. But I see your point.
You do? French was backing away, removing Frys hands from her waist. It felt so wrong that Fry made a feeble attempt to hold on.
Sure. You dont want to rush it, I can see that. So we wont. Well draw it out, make each other crazy and then bamb! Well do it on the beach or wherever.
She was feeling pretty good about herself. For a frustrated woman. Shed left Fry just short of begging on her doorstep. Thatd teach the upstart to go interupting things.
She was walking back to the restaurant, enjoying the moist, slightly foggy air on her heated skin.
Why Fry had such a bug in her ear about taking it slow was beyond her. Theyd known each other a while. Fry was obviously willing. What was the big deal? But it seemed important to her, so she figured she ought to play along for a night. After all, it couldnt kill her, could it?
French had never been so out of control of her mental process or her body in her life. Fry had done something to her. She felt like a rubber band, snapping back and forth between a moderate regard for Frys feelings and an all out assault on her body.
French opined that the urgency had something to do with the fact that she hadnt gone a four month stretch without sex in... she couldnt remember.
She acknowleged that her desire for Fry felt different. She attributed it to the fact that she liked Fry. It was probably normal to feel differently about sex when you cared about the person on the receiving end of your attentions. It might even be interesting.
She was looking forward to it. She stopped and considered that fact. She really was, and in a nice kind of way. So why wasnt Fry? And thats when it started. That small motor in the back of her brain that powered her paranoiac response kicked in. Shed never had a doubt about her ability to get what she wanted, sexually or otherwise. She had a reputation built on that fact. A formidable reputation. And this was something she hadnt considered...
Fry was putting her clothes away. Shed finally started to calm down. Her body had been on overdrive, still responding to Frenchs touch long after the chef had left her there gasping on the sidewalk. Shed climbed the stairs to her room and paced until she felt less out of sorts. That woman was evil alright. Her mother had warned her, but had she listened?
And what was she? Shouldnt she be trying to encourage French to concentrate on the murder? They were so close to figuring it out, she could feel it. And then what? That was one of the things she wanted to know from French. Shed become attached to her in a way that went beyond a simple physical attraction. She cared for French. And she wanted to iron out a few ground rules before she put herself on the line. Because thats exactly what she felt like she was doing.
She threw on a t-shirt and got her journal off of the shelf next to her desk. Maybe writing would distract her. She had no idea how shed get any sleep. Her body was still buzzing and every other thought was interrupted with a memory of Frenchs taste, or her smell or the sensation of touching her skin. Fry had a vivid memory. She stalled in the middle of her room while walking over to her bed. An insistent noise beckoned her to return from the land of French. It went, Pssst. Pssst.
She placed the book down and walked over to the open window. It looked out over the kitchen roof and the back yard. There was a cool, damp breeze, and the yard was dark, except for the light cast out from her window. The house and the rest of the neighborhood were mostly quiet. Her parents went to sleep around eleven each night and there werent a lot of partiers in their residential neighborhood. Midst the continuous trilling sounds the crickets made, she heard the noise again and peered into the darkness. She didnt see anything.
Im over here, in the tree.
Yeah, were you expecting someone else?
Fry couldnt tell, but French sounded kind of suspicious. No, who would I be expecting in the tree in my back yard?
You tell me.
I cant see you. Fry said.
For someone who asks a lot of questions you dont answer many. French jumped from the limb she was standing on, caught one a few feet away and swung the length of herself over and onto the roof. She landed like a cat. On her feet and without much in the way of noise. Her hands were raw from the friction of the swing, but she had something else on her mind. She had to get one thing straight, then shed leave Fry to her beauty sleep.
What are you doing? Fry asked.
I was wondering... French crouched at the edge of the roof. She wasnt so sure this was a such a good idea anymore. Since shed left Fry shed developed a nagging suspicion that Fry might have been putting her off for good. What other explanation could there be? No one had ever resisted her like Fry had today, not with the kind of real heat that was pumping through her veins. As shed stood there letting the paranoiac haze overtake her better sense, it occurred to her that someone as sensative and kind as Fry, might be trying to let her down easy.
As insane as that sounded, she needed to check. But she couldnt believe she hadnt thought it out, couldnt believe how pathetic it was... But she was there and she wanted to know. Post haste. So she asked, By Take it slow... do you mean, when were ready? Or were you trying to spare my feelings and get rid of me? I have a certain reputation that may be offputting to someone like you, I just wanted to know.
Fry stood in her window, slighly chilled by the spray of the light fog that had blown in. Shed been distracted for a minute, wondering what kind of muscle it took to make that climb and jump. When French finished speaking, she could hardly believe her ears. She tried to make sense of the sudden and bizarre insecurity. She couldnt. Let me get this straight. Im kissing you for all Im worth one minute, and the next, youre off wondering if I meant it?
No!...Yeah. Kinda? Look, I want to make sure were on the same page here. Sampling the same recipe, so to speak.
Why? French didnt need her finely tuned sense of paranoia to recognise the tone in Frys voice.
Just come over here.
French considered the woman in the window. Fry wasnt so big. She could take her if it came to that. She half walked, half crouched over to her. Fry didnt look mad. From the edge of the roof all shed been able to see of Fry was a contrasty silhouette. Up close she looked kind of perplexed.
Obviously, I was doing something wrong. I want to be sure you get the right message this time. She took a firm grasp of Frenchs collar, pulled her forward, and kissed her gently, if not a little sloppily, on the nose.
French reared back a hair and gave Fry a look. What was that?
I missed, let me try again.
By the time Fry had pulled her through the window, lips first, French was thouroughly reassured that she wasnt being blown off. Finally, a situation she understood. Woman, bedroom, bed. Ugh, small bed, twin-size bed... she felt Fry press further into her, forcing her back against the window sill. Small bed... she could work with that.
What about slow? French asked as Fry sucked at her neck.
Well take all night. Hows that? Fry wasnt sending French away again, not for anything. Theyd talk in the morning.
Fry had assumed that French would be pushy and aggressive when it came to sex. That wasnt necessarily a bad thing. The problem was, since shed been relieved of her clothing and directed ever so promptly onto the bed (pushed might have been a more accurate description) she hadnt had an opportunity to touch French. Not with her hands anyway, because theyd been seized and French had her wrists pinned to the bed above her head. Her body was on overload and screaming for more, more of French, more sensation, and maybe some touching too. And had she not been utterly fascinated by the play in the muscles of the one arm that seemed to hold her wrists so effortlessly, she might have spoken sooner.
French? The moment she spoke, her mouth was covered by the voracious chef. Fry was lost in the heavenly sensation of Frenchs exploration. The womans unearthly scent was surpassed only by the taste of her.
French began kissing her way down Frys neck again.
I need to touch you. Fry managed to get the words out through labored breaths.
You are touching me. French pressed into her. Here. She did it again, this time with her hips. Here.
If you dont let me touch you with my hands, Im going to explode.
Fry felt a half growl, half chuckle against her collar bone. Maybe you havent done this much, but thats kind of the point.
While it was like her to be aggressive in all things, sex being no exception, French was rarely so insensitive to her partners needs in bed. Shed always exploited them to get exactly what she wanted out of people. Being attentive to your partners needs was good business sense. But shed developped another niggling feeling at the back of her mind since shed gotten a hold of Fry. It boiled down to a simple worry that if she loosened her grip on Frys wrists, she might get away.
As it turned out, Frenchs fear was unfounded. The moment she let up on the pressure, Fry was all over her. Getting away didnt seem to be high on her list of priorities.
The two of them wrestled and touched, kissed and writhed, pushing their bodies beyond overload right into the realm of pure sensation. They spent a lot of time there that night.
As she drifted off to sleep, Fry knew one thing for certain, shed never get over the taste of her. If she didnt ever get to touch French again, she might survive it. But to be made to go without the sensation that flavor caused in her body... that would make her a bitter old woman at the age of 26. No doubt. Shed never tasted anyone like French before. Shed never touched anyone like her before either, and shed thought that would be the thing that would make an impression, but thats probably why the taste thing stood out as the experience to be pressed between the pages of a book had it been a flower petal or a leaf. The woman had nerve to go around tasting like that.
Of course she had nerve, she was French. At that moment her nerves were something like the consistency of a fine aspic, maybe chilled consumme. She lay there, recovering her breath with an arm over her forehead. Fry had collapsed next to her and was snoring softly in her ear. French shifted so that Frys breath wasnt tickling the small hairs there quite so much. It was turning her on. Shed never been turned on by a snore before. She wondered if she ought to worry.
French woke the next morning with a start. She was being smothered. Someone was trying to kill her. She should have known it was Fry, sprawled over her like a blanket. It didnt surprise her that her half jump out of the bed only caused the sleeping woman to roll her head to the other side and squirm a bit.
Could she be comfortable like that? French was intrigued. Fry slept like a rock. It wasnt like you could call what she was doing cuddling, it was more like weighting, as in paper weighting, as in holding French to the bed lest she too try to get away. Funny thing was, French didnt feel much like going anywhere.
As a rule, French couldnt stand cuddlers. Shed figured Fry was one. But now that shed experienced Frys version of it, she wasnt sure the term fit. French always considered people who crowded her in bed as nuisances who were infringing on her inalienable right to cling free sleep. Shed nearly sprinted from the bed when she found out Mitchell did it.
But that bed hardly had room for one, much less one of her size and Fry. And it was probably a good thing Fry was on top of her, because it was drafty in there.
There was a quiet knock on the door. And a voice asked, Violet honey, would you and your guest like some breakfast?
Well didnt that beat all? The question thing ran in the family. French looked down at the sleepy woman whod opened her eyes upon hearing her mothers voice.
No Mom, were sleeping in. Fry responded automatically. Her voice still rough from sleep and all of the panting shed done the night before. Then she woke up.
Well good morning to you too. French gently closed Frys gaping jaw.
Fry ducked her head onto Frenchs chest. Her embarrassment clearly visible in the flush of her skin. She wanted to crawl under the bed, but French had slipped her arms around her waist.
She looked up to try it all over again. Looking at French didnt do much to help the early morning shock to her emotions. The chefs hair was undone, her eyes were bright. Hi. Was about all Fry could manage. She wasnt a morning person by nature.
French leaned forward and kissed her. She leaned back and said, Hi. Nice setup, room service and everything.
I hope you dont mind, she doesnt always do that. But once she didnt know I had someone over and she came in.
Ive been interrupted by room service before, but Ive got to tell you Fry, Im not sure Id know how to tip your mother. French made a mental note to skip the mother jokes, Fry wasnt laughing.
I know this probably isnt what youre used to and Im not like your other girlfriends... Fry began to pull away. She knew they should have had that talk first.
No, its not. French tightened her grasp on the retreating womans waist. If it was, Id be back at the restaurant by now, showered and picking out a clean jacket for the day. You wouldnt get much more out of me than a stray thought. French smiled. Against my saner judgment, I like you. Youre nuts, and I like you.
Fry stilled, Im glad that you find me amusing. She was so not a morning person. And she didnt like the idea that French saw her as some screwball oddity, an entertaining caricature.
Good. Youre also insightful, intelligent, gentle and a great lay. Did I forget anything?
It occurred to Fry that this was not a conversation to be having while lying on Frenchs stomach. She let out a sigh and collapsed back onto French altogether. Sorry, I guess Im feeling jittery. You can be overwhelming first thing in the morning, you know? And I dont know what to expect. She hurried to reassure French, Not that Im expecting anything, its just that youre different for me. If that makes any sense?
Yeah. It makes a lot of sense. French tilted her head and gave Fry a half smile. Youre different for me too. Maybe this is the part we can take slow? Try that talking thing.
Sounds like a plan. Does that mean that we can still do this? Fry made a vague motion toward their bodies with her hand. The casual gesture belied the intense attachment shed grown to her position.
Dont see why not. I could keep a closer eye on you this way, keep you out of trouble.
Wouldnt that be like inviting the fox to guard the henhouse?
French chuckled. Fry felt it as a vibration that moved through her in a not so mysterious fashion.
You may be right. French leaned forward and kissed her again.
Fry returned the kiss and followed it up by tasting Frenchs full lips delicately with her tongue. Frys tasting became more insistent and she inferred that shed like to continue on, maybe in. French obliged, moaning at the skilled and deliberate attentions. She gently sucked Frys tongue and felt the rest of her begin to move in sync. Fry buried her hands in Frenchs hair, pulled her in, and held her fast. French shifted her leg, parting Frys thighs and lifted her knee until Fry could move against her in a more productive manner. And productive didnt seem to be a problem for Fry. Why should it be? As far as she was concerned, lying atop French had been arousing in its own right and now her senses were being further engaged by a veritable cornucopia of stimuli. French was that good.
The chef wasnt wasting any time getting introspective. She had more important things on her mind. Like, was it possible to consume Fry whole, and still have some left for later?
Urgency was the underlying theme of their entanglement. Frenchs entire body was in motion, her hands were everywhere, making patterns on Frys back, pulling her closer, guiding her hips, caressing her into a frenzy. She couldnt take all of the credit for the frenzy, the sounds of their strained breathing and moaning, not to mention the scent and taste were helping too. And when French started thrusting her tongue deep into her mouth, Fry had about come on the spot.
She did come soon afterward, when she felt the unmistakeable shudder in the body straining beneath her own. The intensity and unexpected pleasure of it had blown her mind, and the rest of what was left. They lay panting and trying to catch their breath.
Who knew? French mumbled.
Knew what? Fry asked.
That you could do so much in such a small bed.
Continued in Chapter 37.