A Dangerous Affair (Lesbian Story)

7

Elizabeth
5 June 2015.

Moments ago I stood in front of a mildly frustrated but nonetheless outwardly happy Abby. Her hair neatly tied up in a chignon with skinny one tier drop diamond earrings hanging from her lobes. I imagined myself snuggling into her exposed neck and making her shudder in want.

Her make up was understated as her manicured long hands held a champagne flute. I couldn't help but stare at her talented fingers and think of all the things they could do to me.

The quiet Mitchell residence was filled with the loud chatter of the family and supporters of the governor. The mood was joyous after the announcement of his candidacy that had been received positively by the media.

Upbeat, classical music provided a contrasting background to the boisterous laughter and champagne clinking that was the overall mood of the party.

I was in the middle of a democratic gathering of friends, family and staff of Governor Mitchell and all I could think of was sex with Abby.

The two of us stood at a professional distance. Remaining as close to each other as we could without arousing suspicion.

I was on the brink of insanity with want. It' had been nearly a month since I've been near her and she smelt so good. God, how I wanted to touch her.

Her Ellie Saab perfume blended with her forest shampoo into something that smelled inately Abigail: citrus lightness.

I stood looking around at the gathering to see if anyone was paying attention to us. Her stare biting into the corners of my flesh - summoning me to look at her.

I couldn't. It's been so long since I last saw her and tonight - with the way she looked in the understated teal versace that held onto her curves all the way to just above the knee - I was afraid I would lose my senses and kiss her endlessly in the middle of the bar. The dress slightly flared with a pleated peplum to reach knee length. Unlike me and most of the older women here, she wasn't wearing stockings. Why would she? Her legs were flawless, especially in the cream suede,Blahnik sandals she wore.

"Your father's grateful you made it." I ventured.

"I know. But that's not why I came." Abigail answered looking at me with hope, anger and restraint.

Her brown orbs travelled to the simple grey woolen shift I'd worn. Examining me all over from my wavy chin length hair all the way to my stately court shoes.

She loved it when I looked professional. She said it was something to do with the power I oozed. Granted, I had no idea what she was talking about but I knew that it turned her on.

"Why did you come then?" I ask.

"I haven't seen you in a month."

"I've been working."

"You're afraid of being seen with me." She challenged moving a step closer to me. Nothing to be noticed but enough to make me uncomfortable with the growing heat between my legs.

"Of course I'm afraid Abby!" I whispered fiercely. "Have you seen the response to your father's rallies? He's proving to be a serious contender and the media loves him."

"Its pathetic isnt it?" She scoffed completely ignoring me. "I had to attend my fathers just to catch a glimpse of my lover. You've made me pathetic Liz."

"I thought I was your girlfriend." The last part I whispered in playful mischief in case the walls had ears. My smile however quickly faded at the searing glare I receive from Abigail.

I heaved out a sigh. "God, Abby you make it sound like you're the only one who's in this relationship. Do you know how pathetic I am!? How much I want to touch you right now. To undo that perfectly conservative bun and run my fingers through your hair. To run my tongue against your neck and put my arms around your waist."

Her eyes dilated and her breath caught with each description of the things I want to do to her. I was lost in her and I wanted to drown myself in her scent. If she didn't stop me then surely I was going to kiss her.

The pads of my fingers tingled in want. I felt the overwhelming need to touch her. I reached out casually to remove a non-existent bug on her shoulder.

The photographer tensed and seemed to sense my need. She gently placed her flute on the bar counter and leaned over to whisper in my ear: "Join me upstairs."

☆☆☆

Upstairs, it turned out, was a flurry of desperate hand grabbing and kissing that drove me senseless in her old bedroom.

The vibrations from her moans as we kissed ignited a flame throughout my body. For a second I thought to ask if she had a comb I could use afterwards because my hair was being messed up. But then Abigail pushed me onto the door and nipped at my neck making me forget what I was going to say.

Where she kissed me, I could feel the graze of her teeth tickle my hair. The warm air from her breathing made me hold on to her just a little tighter.

The muscles in my abdomen tensed and relaxed sporadically with each tingle from her warm breath. I gave her free reign over my neck as she nuzzled, sucked and licked me to insanity.

"Don't leave marks." I got out in short, shallow gasps.

"What?" She asked distracted with her task. She didn't even stop as she ran those elegant fingers beneath the hem of my dress. Her hand traced circles through my stockings and underwear. I'm sure both of which were dark with patches of wetness.

Her hands tried to go over the top of my stocking but the shift dress she loves so much, gave her no room. Maybe I should have worn something less sensible. I could tell it was annoying her to try and get it over my thighs without releasing me.

Our heavy breathing mingled with the soft sounds of fabric rubbing together.

"Shit!" My younger lover grunted and paused in her mission to literally try to get into my panties. I was a little disappointed that I wouldn't get to come.

However Abigail got on her knees before me and the next thing I heard was the distinct tear of nylon.

I looked down to see her red-faced and clammy with a gaping hole on my stockings.

"Abby!..." Shocked, I began to admonish her but stopped as I felt the slickness of her tongue lick thoroughly along my centre.
Abby's attentions on me always felt like a religious experience. It always seemed like it was the last meal she'd ever have. We should open the windows though.

"We should open the windows."

She moaned a vague "mhmm" as she continued to tease the building pleasure with her lips and hands. I don't know what, who or where to hold onto as my body involuntarily begins grinding itself on her face.

I feel her left arm grab behind my left thigh to keep me from moving. I think I'm messing up her rhythm but I don't care. Too lost in my own pleasure, I continue arching my back into her.

I feel the sharp sting of a slap on my thigh and look down to see the warning eyebrow raise of the photographer underneath me.

The sting did nothing to quell my movements. Instead, I rest my head back on the door and guide her head back to the job at hand.

My walls pulse and squeeze rhythmically in anticipation. My hips become desperate as I buck and rotate erratically onto her. Every pore on my skin burned in blinding heat.
My breath catches at the back of my throat and for three seconds, I lose control of myself as blinding pleasure rolls off of me from my abdomen to my legs. My hand tightens its grip on her hair as I shudder in surrender.

I know she's watching me. My breathing is heavy and all I want to do is collapse into a puddle on the floor.

We should probably get back to the party but the look in the chocolate brown eyes below me tells me that that won't be happening anytime soon.