Just a few days ago, whenever she thought of that first kiss with Candace in her office, her eyes would go cloudy with desire; when she recalled the feeling she had when their hands accidentally touched, Bette quivered.  The feel of Candace’s pinky pressing her smallest finger made her heart skip a beat.  She had replayed their time in the jail cell longingly in her mind.  She had maintained some control, then.  At the time, she thought it would take the edge off, to have this fantasy with Candace; to be close to her, imagining and pretending with her, taking each other without really doing it.  It was like Internet ***** or phone *****, harmless, really.  Bette hadn’t even made eye contact with her.  She had faced the wall, slipped her hand between her legs, coated her long fingers with her own wetness and fantasized that she was slipping into Candace.  It wasn’t cheating.  She hadn’t been completely dishonest.  Bette gave in to her lust in the cell, but she hadn’t cheated on Tina.  She couldn’t fight the desire, though.  She tried.  She had really tried.  Bette was used to being a winner, meeting her foe head-on and persevering.  This desire of hers had been a strong foe.  She hadn’t wanted to falter, but when she did, she had landed hard and there had been no turning back.  All thought, all reason flew out the window.

A little more than a week ago, she stopped fighting and allowed herself to be taken over the edge.  Candace took her, again and again and again.  Bette couldn’t get enough.  When her eyes played over the caramel colored skin of the carpenter, she pictured that caramel melting beneath her touch and she saw herself lapping hungrily at its sweetness.  Then, without another thought, that’s what she was doing, lapping, licking, sucking, unwilling to come up for air.  She wanted to drain Candace, then fill her with all this lust she had forgotten existed in her.  She and Tina had nice, loving *****.  Not even *****, not often.  They made love most times.  Bette and Candace were hot and sexual and demanding together.  Both women had been careful not to leave bite marks, but Bette wanted to bite her, eat her up, feel that kind of life pulsing through her veins again.