"I want to kiss you."
The words sounded so lame when I said them out loud. Cleo looked at me in stunned silence for a moment, and I was sure I'd fucked it all up.
We'd met online. On a national Facebook group for professionals in our field. The only reason we'd started speaking was because she'd been having a rather heated disagreement in the comments with an ignorant middle aged man about the need for more diverse voices in the workplace, and I'd messaged her privately to congratulate her on her well-reasoned and professional arguments, while he had descended to petty name-calling when he rapidly realised she knew a great deal more about the topic than he did. We'd been chatting ever since, finally agreeing to go for a drink while I was in her city for a series of meetings.
I showed up to the bar, frazzled and tired and regretting not bringing a change of clothes. She had looked smooth and put together and perfect, her glossy dark hair falling in loose curls over her almost-bare shoulders, exposed by the black mesh underlay that made her sleeveless dress a little more discreet. My own smart black skirt suit was nowhere near as sexy.
The first thing I noticed was that she had the most amazing figure - curvy and womanly, with round hips and large heavy breasts. She rather put my small perky tits and flat arse to shame.
We weren't talking long before the conversation turned to our personal lives. I was surprised - and secretly overjoyed - to learn that she too was bisexual. We spoke about that at length, comparing coming out stories. I avoided mentioned Craig, my boyfriend of five years, for as long as possible but naturally he eventually came up - when I confessed halfway into the second bottle of wine that my experience with women was very limited, due to coming out three years into a monogamous relationship with a cishet man. She didn't bat an eyelid, and I felt a little pang of disappointment. She clearly didn't fancy me the way I did her, or she might have seemed upset to know I was off the market.
As it got later and we got drunker, we ended up going back to my hotel room for another night cap and to continue chatting. It had been a long time since I'd had so much fun talking to someone, and it seemed that neither of us were keen to end the night just yet.
And that's when I ruined it. Cleo was opening another bottle of wine, standing at the little desk in the budget hotel room, and I was lounging on the bed having kicked my shoes off. I just have been staring because she smirked and tossed her hair back.
"What are you thinking?" She asked playfully.
"I want to kiss you," I said without thinking. And then my brain kicked in and my cheeks flushed red. She just looked at me, the silence between us thick and heavy. I felt my breath constrict in my chest as I waited for her to say something.
After a long moment, she pressed her plump pink lips together before speaking. She hadn't taken her eyes off me, and her dark gaze felt penetrating.
"And do you intend to do anything about that...want?" Her voice was even and measured, giving nothing away.
I sighed and flopped back, staring at the ceiling.
"I hate the cliche of a bisexual woman who can't be trusted and cheats on her partner. It's bullshit and I don't want to be part of it." Embarrassingly, my throat was tight and my voice sounded emotional. I felt the weight on the bed shift as she sat on the edge of it.
"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out softly. I sat up and gave her a small smile. My head was spinning and I currently felt like the worst person ever, but at least she hadn't left the room in disgust or laughed right in my face. That was something, I supposed. Her being nice was almost as bad though, embarrrassing.
"I'm not a bad person," I said as though I were trying to convince myself as much as her. "Craig's a good man. I can't...I'm sorry, I should never have said it."
She shook her head, that gentle smile still in place. God, she was pretty. Tenderly, she placed a hand on my knee.
"I'm glad you were honest with me. I've heard it's the best policy." She paused. "Does it make it easier or harder if I say that I want to kiss you too?"
I gave a little chuckle, and then sighed heavily. "A mixture of the two, I think. I'm really sorry, Cleo. I shouldn't have...made this weird."
"Who's weird? This isn't weird. This is...us getting to know each other better. I'm having fun." She stood up again, and passed me the glass of wine she'd poured just as I confessed. I took a big swig and chuckled.
"I'm having fun too. I'll just nip to the bathroom to, erm, get this out of my system and we'll back to being new friends," I joked, my tipsiness allowing me to be so crude as to even wiggle my middle and pointer finger suggestively together in the air.
She laughed, and then her eyes lit up. A sparkle flashed through their dark brown and I narrowed my own blue gaze a little, questioning her sudden excitement. She glanced down into her own glass, acting very nonchalant.
"I always find that...that helps me sleep, don't you?" She wiggled her own fingers in the same gesture I'd made, her tone casual. I wasn't sure where she was going with this, but I played along. She was right, after all.
"Yeah, yeah, me too," I said, my voice a little wary.
Her lips twitched into a smirk and she checked her watch. "I've missed my last train. Would you mind awfully if I crashed here with you?"
I was baffled. Her train of thought seemed to be all over the place, but obviously I couldn't see her on the streets for the night.
"Erm, yeah, of course. Yeah, obviously."
She grinned wider. "Well, then. Both of us need to sleep well, to get this wine out of our systems. And we both know a way to help us sleep. If we were to...get ourselves to sleep, it wouldn't be a problem, would it? I mean, we wouldn't even have to touch, or talk about it or anything. I mean, maybe you'll fall asleep straight away and I can do it in peace. Or vice versa. Who's to say?"
I was starting to follow her and my cheeks flushed hot, my underwear suddenly soaked as I realised what she was suggesting. I hesitated and then when I spoke, my voice was low and slow.
"It can be hard to tell if someone is asleep, can't it? If they're really asleep, or just...pretending. But it's worth the risk, if you need to...sleep well."
She held my gaze and nodded, clearly pleased that we were on the same page now.
"Well, in that case, I'm going to, erm, get ready for bed." I suddenly couldn't wait to be under the duvet.
"You take the bathroom," she smiled. "It's your hotel room after all, I'll get myself ready out here."
When I returned from the bathroom, wearing not my usual old ratty t-shirt and boxers combo that I tended to sleep in but instead a matching sports bra and briefs set - soft grey cotton with a bright white elastic band under the bust and at the hips, she was about to get into bed. The sight took my breath away. Her smooth pale curves were poured into a deep red bodysuit, her ample tits pushed into a delicious cleavage and her rounded stomach encased in lace. As she turned to put her phone on charge, I was treated to her juicy arse displayed by the thong back. I could feel my own briefs flooded already and it was all I could do not to pounce on her. But no. We had a plan. A good plan, I reasoned, as this plan didn't hurt anyone.
We both slipped into bed and she flicked the light off, drowning us in darkness. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the tiny amount of streetlight leaking through the curtains, shapes just visible as my vision got used to it. She smelled amazing, sweet and musky, and her hair brushed my shoulder as she settled herself comfortably with a very conscious gap between our warm bodies.
"Good night Amber," she murmured into the darkness.
"Good night Cleo," I replied, my voice catching in my throat, thick with arousal. The tension was nearly overwhelming, but I needed her to take the lead here.
Fortunately I didn't have to wait long. Moments after we'd spoken, she gave a little sigh and the covers shifted as she slid one hand down. It took a moment for me to work out what she was doing, as her hand didn't travel as far as I expected but soon I realised she was stroking the curve of her left breast, toying with the edge of the lace. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her fingers trailing closer to the stiff rosy nipple I'd been able to peek through the fabric. I knew she'd reached it when she gave a tiny gasp, my body attuned to every tiny nuance of her breathing. My own hands moved straight down to rest on the waistband of my underwear, desperate for more but determined to savour this moment.
As she massaged at her breast, her hips shifted a little and soon her other hand was sliding down over her curves and coming to rest between her impressive thighs. The movement of the duvet told me she was teasing herself, slow and gentle movements which caused her breath to hitch in her throat, her hips straining upwards seeking the friction she was so expertly denying herself. I tightened my grip on my waistband, squeezing my muscles at the same time, my own breathing speeding a little. Damn. I could probably come without even touching myself, with this as inspiration.
But I don't have that much control. I let one hand creep down to my inner thigh, trailing my nails over the sensitive skin there. I was suddenly pleased I hadn't shaved down there in a little while - the small patch of hair made everything feel more sensitive as I let my fingertips toy with it where it peeked out from my underwear. I wondered if she was waxed or natural - I figured probably neatly trimmed, maybe a cute little landing strip. I'd give anything to know for sure.
My attention was grabbed again as she gave a little mewl and her hand sped up. She'd given in, caressing her clit in regular tight circles that made the duvet jump in rhythm. I did the same, matching my movements to hers and letting out a tiny noise of my own. This was even better than anything I could have imagined, the pretence of ignorance in the darkness heightening the erotic tension. She was clearly trying to keep herself quiet, but the little muted noises were almost hotter, more illicit.
I gave a little groan of my own as one of my hands grabbed at my breast, tweaking my small hard nipple through the soft cotton while the hand between my legs continued to match her pace. I was rubbing myself through my briefs, needing the friction of the fabric since my pussy was already absolutely sopping wet. The extra pressure was something so sweet it made my mouth water, my lips hanging open as my breathing sped up.
Suddenly, her movements stopped. She took the hand from her breast and moved it down between her legs, and I heard a tiny popping sound. She was unfastening the bodysuit, allowing her pussy exposure to the air and herself more room to manoeuvre. She was clearly as aware of me as I was of her, because she glanced at me when she realised I'd stopped too.
"Okay?" she murmured, her voice almost indiscernible.
"Mhmm," I murmured back, sitting up briefly to pull my bra off before lying down and turning my head on the pillow to face her. My small breasts were so sensitive now that even the duvet brushing the nipples made me shudder...or maybe that was just the way she was still looking at me as her hand slid slowly back down to find the bare skin between her legs. This time, when she moaned, it was more deliberate and slightly louder, her eyes flickering closed for a moment.
And suddenly, everything felt like it had been turned up a few notches. We held eye contact as the hand rubbing her clit made the covers we shared bounce and then there was a slower movement, and she gave a low moan. She'd clearly slid a finger, or maybe two, inside herself and she took a moment to relish the new fullness before she began moving her hips in an ever-increasing rhythm. Meanwhile, my own hands were back to where they had been; one grasping at my breast, tugging my nipple desperately, while I attacked my own sensitive clit with two quick fingers. The orgasm was mounting now, and it wouldn't be long before I couldn't hold any more.
I wasn't doing it on purpose, but I soon realised I was whispering, "Please, please," over and over again. She shifted her face a little closer to mine, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open as she began to fuck herself harder, slamming her hand into her pussy in time with my voice.
"Are you close?" Her voice sounded so wanton, cracked and breathless with desire, than the sound of it nearly sent me over the edge. I nodded desperately, lips now pressed tight together to muffle my moans. The other people in the hotel didn't need to hear that.
"Me too. Do you think...I mean, would you be able to...hold on? If I countdown..."
The suggestion made my body spasm, my hips bucking, but I nodded wildly, keeping my speed consistent so that I could tip myself over the edge just when she told me to.
The countdown from ten was impossibly long...she teased us both, dragging it out, her voice getting rougher and more hoarse as she got closer and closer to...
"Now, come for me now," she commanded, and I didn't need to be told twice. My muscles clenched, the wave of my orgasm crashing over me like a tsunami, and I couldn't hold back my moans any more. At my side, her hips were raised high as she twitched and groaned and made the sweetest little mewls of "yes" that I had ever heard.
It seemed to last a lifetime, but all too soon it was done, both of us collapsing sweaty and spent. She caught my eyes and we started laughing, the release of tension suddenly overwhelming. I didn't even feel guilty about what we'd done. She made me feel so at ease and the whole situation had been so hot, I could hardly think past her smile and her heaving chest and the smell of sex emanating from the fingers she moved up to suck clean between her plump lips.
"If you're ever in town again..." she said softly, and I nodded. I'd certainly be keen to have another meeting with Cleo.