The women ate their salads and after dishes were washed, Gail picked up ‘The Razor’s Edge’ again and settled in her chair.  Bette sat on the floor and worked on her paper.  Several times, Gail glanced over at her and watched as Bette fidgeted.  She had to keep telling herself that Bette needed control.  Even if she were unsure of how to proceed, she would have to take the initiative to feel free enough to explore. 

“I – I think I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“Okay.”

Bette walked over to her overnight bag that was beside the chair and bent to pick it up.  Gail glanced up at her and once more as always, Bette was enthralled by those two eyes of different colors.  “Ah,” she sighed.  Her hands let go of the handle of her bag and she knelt beside the chair and pulled Gail toward her with a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to her hungry mouth.  They kissed, but Bette wanted more than that.  She was emboldened and wrapped her long fingers around Gail’s wrist and pushed Gail’s arm underneath her Polo shirt.  Beneath the shirt, Bette’s hand let go of Gail’s wrist and grabbed her bra in the center, pulling it up and over her *****.  Gail’s hand closed over Bette’s breast and Bette groaned.  Although, Gail couldn’t see what she was doing, she could feel the reaction it had on Bette.  Her nipple was getting harder and harder as Gail caressed it.  Gail turned in her seat and once she had, she slipped her other hand under the shirt.  Bette’s chest rose into her hands, her *****, young and firm.  Gail gathered those full ***** and squeezed them hard and Bette moaned as she moved forward to claim her mouth again. 

Every pinch of her nipple, every full circle that Gail’s finger made around Bette’s areola sent Bette soaring.  Her nipples ached and that ache shot straight to the core between her legs.  She heard and felt Gail’s moan in her mouth and the thought that this was a woman sitting before her, a woman touching her in such an intimate way, a ***** making those sounds in response to her body kept Bette climbing higher.  Bette reached down, grabbed the bottom of her Polo shirt and yanked it over her head.  Once she threw it onto the floor next to her, her eyes landed on Gail.  The blue eye and gray eye were now the same color indigo.  Dark, lustful, heated eyes stared at her, then moved down to stare at the bra resting disorderly, just below Bette’s neck.  Gail reached behind her and slipped the hooks from their catch, pulling the bra away from its owner.