Dynamics of a Human Heart Ch. 03

"Have you even tried?" she demanded.

"Have you ever tried to fly by jumping off the roof with a cape tied around you?"

"No, but that's because I know it'd kill me."

"Same principal."

"I'm not going to hurt you!" Miranda was practically yelling at his point, "How could I? I can't even get your real name or lay a finger on you without you freaking out."

"Well and good reasons for those, poppet."

"And stop calling me names! My name is Miranda!"

With a grunt of frustration, Grey dropped himself back into the chair.

"You asked me who I was."

"Yes, I did." Miranda confirmed.

"I'm a liar," he began, "and a crook. I'm a scoundrel and a cheat," he held up his cigarettes, "I'm an addict and a two-bit con artist," his voice started to rise in volume again, "I'm a burnout, a has-been, and a never-was," he exhaled hard, his voice dropping back to normal, "I'm a mistake, something that should have never been, and I'm a destroyer of lives," he looked up at the girl, "You and your bird keep tagging along, you'll find that out in short fucking order."

"That is who I am and that is who I will always be," he ground out his cigarette, "Ultimately, to the rest of the world, I don't matter. I'm going to die unloved, unwanted, and unmourned," he rubbed his head. "Go away; I'm tired of looking at you."

Miranda's lower lip had begun to tremble; the raw hatred and pain of his words had brought her almost to tears as her empathy got the better of her.

She reached out to touch him, comfort him, or do something for him.

"Get out!" he roared.

Miranda snatch her hand back and just looked at him for a long time.

Finally she spoke, in a voice that was barely a whisper,

"I'm sorry."

Before he could yell at her again, she fled the room.

Grey took off his shades and tossed them onto the table, rubbing his eyes.

"Aren't we all...," he whispered to the empty room.

"...Miranda."

There was none to hear him, save the smoke, the dust, and the shadows of memory.

Miranda stepped into the dark bedroom and quietly closed the door. She rested her forehead against it and sniffled quietly.

She found that small pebble in her mind, like a stone in her shoe whenever she thought of him. It had been there since the day they'd met and every day since.

"You matter," she whispered quietly into the closed door. Wordlessly, she turned from it and walked the length of the room to her bed, sitting upon the edge with her thin shoulders slumped.

She felt Sam's arms wrap around her from behind and squeeze her gently.

"You okay, love?"

Miranda sniffled and nodded, turning to face her.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay."

"You're a rotten liar, Miri," Sam teased.

Miranda barked a short laugh, "Yeah, yeah, I am."

"Come to me, sweetie."

Miranda fell into Sam's arms. Sam pulled her close and kissed her mouth.

"What are you getting yourself into, love?"

"I don't know," she shook her head, placing her hands over her eyes, "I don't like him, Sammy, and I don't trust him. I think this is all a big mistake."

"You're the one that invited him in," Sam pointed out.

"I know and I was stupid to do so: he's unbalanced."

"Yeah, figured that out already between the violence and the pathological hatred of any kind of non-violent physical contact," she put her fingers under Miranda's chin, tilting her face up to her. "But he also saved us when he could have walked away, beat up a guy who was going to...hurt me," Sam didn't want to say the words yet, "And then he gave a homeless woman five hundred dollars, just so you two could get me home safely and to top it off, he stole a car," she leaned over and kissed Miranda on the forehead, "what do you call all of that?"

"A very unbalanced person."

"Brat!" Sam reached her and smacked Miranda in the head with a stuffed animal.

Miranda laughed and shoved Sam away, "Tramp."

"There we go, that's what I needed to see."

"What?"

"You being happy."

Miranda felt warmth spread within her as she regarded her lover, "Being with you makes me happy."

"Wow, and you're calling Grey unbalanced?"

There was more laughter as the two girls worked to shed the trials of the evening.

"So, sex or talking?" Sam asked.

"Sex," Miranda replied, "then talking, then probably more sex."

"Wow, did we discover a new coping mechanism?"

"I just need..." the dark-haired girl struggled for the words before giving up, "...you."

"I need you too, Miri."

All their words were spent as they brought their mouths together. Miranda felt like she could taste the evening's events: the lingering taste of alcohol, the scent of smoke, the taste of salt from both sweat and tears, and Sam's lingering fragrance of vanilla. Sam's lips were warm; they felt like the warmest thing she had ever known.

Sam opened her mouth, allowing Miranda to press her tongue into hers. The heat intensified, the taste of Sam's tongue sent her swooning. She held the other girl's face in both of her hands and kissed her over and over again taking only enough time to breathe.

Finally, they parted and Sam exhaled hard, "Whoo! That's was...intense."

Miranda gave her a long, affectionate, look as she stood and began to disrobe.

"Now we're talking," Sam leered, "Rowr!"

Miranda unzipped her dress and let it fall to her feet in a pool of gray; standing now in only her bra and panties. A few moments later and they joined the dress upon the floor; leaving her sky-clad in all her glory.

As she was stepping towards the bed, light from the window struck her body and Sam gasped, a swift pain in her heart:

Miranda was perfect: so pale she almost glowed with her face framed by her ebony locks and her eyes were pools of liquid violet as if there were tears still within them that needed to be shed.

"God," Sam whispered, "Miri..."

The goddess gave her a loving glance and she climbed into bed with her. Miranda slid down lower and curled herself into a ball; resting against Sam's breasts.

"My Miri," Sam whispered, kissing her head repeatedly.

"Yours, Sam," Miranda replied, "Nobody else, not now, not ever."

Samantha looked a little amused at her vehemence, "I know sweetie, it's okay."

"Just so we're clear."

"It was never in doubt."

Miranda then stretched out and reached up under Sam's shirt to touch her breasts.

"Let me just help you with that," the other girl said breathlessly, the sight of Miranda in the light like that had put her libido into overdrive. She needed this woman right now, more than oxygen.
She nearly tore her pajamas apart as she yanked the top piece up, over, and off her head, tossing it away leaving her breasts bare. She reached down to grip Miranda's hand and placed it upon her chest.

"Touch me," Sam whispered.

Miranda cradled her breasts in her hands, cupping them gently. She brought her face against them, nuzzling and luxuriating in the softness of them.

Sam ran her fingers through Miranda's hair as her head fell back and she exhaled in pleasure.

"That feels nice," Sam whispered.

Taking a breast in both her hands, Miranda began to place small, warm, kisses. She would alternate between lips and tongue as she caressed every inch with her mouth.

"God, Miri," Sam moaned, pulling her closer to her breast, "More."

Miranda's mouth began to circle the pebbled skin of Sam's areola deftly avoiding her pink nipple.

"Please Miri," the blonde girl hissed, "don't tease me."

Gently, Miranda took Sam's nipple in her mouth and began to suck.

Sam's body shuddered in pleasure and she squeezed Miranda tighter against her breast.

"So good, Miri," she exhaled, "don't stop, please don't stop."

The other girl obliged, making love to Sam's breast with her mouth. She caught the pink bud between her teeth gently and flicked her tongue across it until it was rock hard. Her free hand roamed across her body, exploring her. Her fingers glided over the length of the other girl's collarbone. She gripped the girl's shoulder and pulled her closer to her as her mouth continued to work on her skin.

"PJ bottoms off!" Sam instructed breathlessly.

Miranda crawled her way down Sam's body. No inch of skin was left unkissed or untouched.

She reached her navel and traced a small circle around it with her tongue before peppering it with warm kisses that left a moistened heat upon her skin.

"That tickles!" Sam cried out.

Miranda slid her hands down the front of Sam's pants and cupped her bare mons.

"That does not," she exclaimed with a gasp.

The other girl took the waistband of Sam's pants and began to slowly roll them down, uncovering her body inch by inch.

"You're killing me here," Sam whined.

Miranda began to pet her lover's sex: it was wet and getting more so by the moment. She rubbed a finger up its divide, lightly pressing against the hard bud at the top.

Samantha gasped aloud, "God, Miri, fuck me already!"

Miranda slid the girl's pants down and off her body leaving her at eye level with Sam's opening; the folds were swollen with need. She took a moment to just look at it, marveling at it as if it were a precious jewel. She began to stroke it, running her fingers up and down the slit until they were glistening and slick.

Sam began to rotate her hips towards her, "Please Miri? Fuck me?" she begged using her most submissive tone, baiting the other girl as she thrust herself desperately towards her lover.

Miranda began to press a single finger into Sam and the other girl just thrust herself towards Miranda's hand. Obeying her lover's plea, she began to slide a second finger into her. Sam was extremely tight and even as soaked by her arousal as she was, Miranda had to work at it. She began to slide them in and out of her, curling her fingers as she did. Sam squeezed around her fingers and ground her hips against them gaining more momentum as she did. Her body seemed to suck at the girl's digits hungrily and only reluctantly released them as Miranda pulled out.

"Faster," Sam mewled.

Miranda's fingers thrust in and out of her lover's body, building up tempo as they did so; her other hand found the girl's clit and began to rub it with her thumb.

"Ahhh!" Sam groaned as she rolled her hips. She cupped her tanned breasts in her hands, pinching and rolling her nipples between her fingers.

She removed her fingers from within Sam, drawing a whimper of protest, then reached behind her, gripping her ass firmly, she thrust her face between the other girl's thighs. "I love the way your body tastes," Miranda whispered.

"Oh, God!" Sam screamed as Miranda split her soaked pussy with her tongue and began fucking it with her mouth. Sam buried her hands in her lover's hair as she was devoured.

Miranda drew her tongue up and down Sam's dripping entrance, feasting at her taste. She fastened her mouth on the girl's clit and sucked.

"Miiirrii!" Sam wailed as an orgasm tore through her body like a high-voltage tidal wave. She thrust and bucked her hips, humping her lover's face madly.

Miranda squeezed the tanned twin globes of Sam's ass and used it as leverage to drag her closer, burying her face as deep as possible into her wet crevasse, licking and sucking every last drop of pleasure from the girl.

"Fuck!" Sam almost snarled through clenched teeth as a second orgasm began rampaging through her blood. Her entire body convulsed so violently it almost hurt as Miranda continued her unrelenting assault on her poor body.

"Enough!" Samantha gasped out and weakly pushed Miranda away. The other girl looked up at her with a hungry expression.

"Not done yet."

"Well, fuck, I am," Sam exhaled hard, "What the hell was that all about?"

"Just feeling aggressive tonight, I guess," Miranda slowly kissed her way up her body, taking the time to find and lick every drop of salty sweat she could find glistening on her skin.

"That's the friggin' understatement of the year," Sam reached down and pulled Miranda up to her, wrapping her arms around her, "Jesus," she breathed, "fuck me."

"Jesus won't, but I will," Miranda grinned at her. Sam thought that her grin was a little scary; it showed no remorse or hesitation, just lust and hunger and the girl felt like she was being eyed up as the main course.

"You just leave my girly parts alone for now."

Miranda sulked, "Tease," She straddled one of Sam's legs, pressing her slick cleft against her thigh; enjoying the heat radiating from Sam, in post-orgasmic bliss against the sensitive skin of her sex.

Sam blew out a long breath as her heart rate dropped back down to a safer range.

"Is it because of our favorite chain-smoking Englishman?" Sam teased.

Miranda glared at her, "Of course not! I'm with you!"

Sam laughed, "Like I said; not in doubt," she kissed her head, "but it's okay to be attracted to someone."

"I loathe him!" Miranda cried out.

Sam looked at the other girl, her eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

"He's a foul-mouthed, hateful bitter old man—"

"He's not that old, sweetie," Sam interjected.

"I just can't imagine the kind of person that would want to spend five minutes with him, let alone a lifetime," Miranda replied.

"Well, that little band of pale skin on the third finger of his left hand says someone decided to try it."

Miranda frowned, "He doesn't have a pale band of skin on his finger," she said puzzled.

"Oh, really?" Sam moved in for the kill, "Do you always pay that close attention to people you claim to hate?"

"Starting to hate you now, too," Miranda sulked as Sam laughed.

"There, there."

"He reeks of cheap booze and cigarettes, too."

Sam scoffed, "Lover, I don't care if he's slathered head-to-toe in elephant semen, if he can somehow get me out of the chair, I will crawl out there right now and fellate him until his eyes popped out."

Miranda retched, "Gross on so many levels."

"At least we'd finally get to see his eyes."

"And that's another thing. Why the sunglasses? Does pretending he's 'Shaft' make him think he's cool?" the other girl demanded.

"Truth? I don't think he gives a pound of fuck whether or not people think he is cool," Sam shrugged, "Or what people think period."

"Or care about people at all."

"He cares. If he didn't, things would have gotten really ugly back at that party."

Miranda sighed and turned her head away, "Don't remind me. She then turned back to face her paramour, "Which reminds me, your plan? With the whole...." She couldn't finish the sentence, "it wouldn't work. He said you're not his type."

"Big tits, blue eyes, and blond hair? I'm everyone's type."

"Yeah, well, apparently not his."

"Is it because of my legs?"

Miranda shook her head, "No, he did say you had nice breasts, but it was more of a casual observation than a compliment," she shrugged, "He said he doesn't go in for the 'California Girl' look."

"Wow, first time I've heard that," Sam smirked, "Is your gaydar picking up anything?"

"If he's gay, he hides it well. I think he's straight. I also think though, that he's really, really, messed up."

"Well, we both knew that."

"No, I mean seriously messed up, as in 'Vietnam war vet turned heroin addict' kind of messed up.

"Yikes, thank you for that imagery."

"Well, I owed you for earlier with what you said you were going to do to him."

"I was kidding," Sam assured her, "Kinda."

"Sam!"

"Hey, if it means I get to walk again, I'll cheerfully go bat for the other team for a few hours."

"Your fellow lesbians would be so proud of you."

"Wouldn't they though?"

"He's just so....ugh!" Miranda spat, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! With his arrogance and name calling and manipulations and condescending attitude," her face was flush with anger, "I just want to take a stick and hit him until candy comes out!"

Sam did her best to not laughed and instead pointed downwards.

"What?" Miranda roared.

"You're getting wet."

Miranda frowned and looked down: Sam's thigh was now covered in her lover's juices where Miranda was straddling her.

"That could just be sweat," the dark-haired girl said defensively.

Sam reached down and touched the wetness on her thigh, coating her fingers to in it.

"Open," Sam instructed, holding her fingers in front of the other girl's face.

Carefully, Miranda opened her mouth and Sam slid them into her mouth.

Miranda closed her eyes; she loved the taste of a woman's arousal, even if it was just her own, and for a moment, a shudder of pleasure wracked her body.

Sam removed her fingers, "And the verdict is?"

"The verdict is that I hold a searing hatred for the man that I can feel in the very pit of my soul," Miranda huffed, "But, he's not...totally unattractive, if you like that kind of thing, which I don't!"

"Your rock hard nipples and flushed body say otherwise, sweetie."

With a look of mortification, Miranda brought her fingers up to her nipples and very gently touched them. They were firm and hypersensitive and she couldn't suppress a moan as she moved her fingertips over them.

"Your defense is crumbling," Sam commented, taking in the scene and alternating between amused and aroused.

"That...doesn't mean anything," Miranda whispered as she continued to play with her nipples, pulling and twisting them, "I'm just still turned on from making love with you."

"Miri, your entire body is blushing, my thigh is in danger of drowning and if I so much as touched one of your nipples," Sam gestured as Miranda continued to play with herself, "provided I could get to them, I could have you coming in five minutes."

"That's not true," Miranda choked out; she was starting to pant.

"Uh-huh," Samantha leaned in close to whisper in the other girl's, "Just close your eyes and think of England."

"Oh God," Miranda whimpered as Sam's hands pushed her hands away and replaced them with her own as she began to squeeze and massage her lover's pale, gemlike, breasts.

"That's my girl," Sam replied and she lowered her mouth down to suckle at Miranda's breasts. She alternated between sucking and nibbling, biting and licking until each rose colored nipple was as hard as stone. She never bit hard, Miranda didn't enjoy the rough stuff as much as she did, but she knew that the recipe for her lover's orgasm was a pound of pleasure and just a sliver of pain.

By the time Sam had begun to work her way down to Miranda's stomach, the other girl was a quivering mass. Samantha took a moment to rest her cheek against her lover's body. Miranda always said Sam's body felt like sunshine; By contrast, Sam felt Miranda's body felt soft and chilled, like snow or porcelain.

Sam could feel that hangover Grey had warned her about coming on like a wave. Her temples began to throb and ache and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Miranda looked down and knew instantly what she needed. She reached down and took Sam's face in her hands. Sam looked up at her, her heart in her eyes, as Miranda gently turned her face and rest Sam's cheek against her stomach. Miranda stroked the other girl's head soothingly as Sam wrapped her arms around her and pressed her head against her cool skin.

"Oh God Miri, that feels fantastic." Sam purred.

"Best cure for a headache," Miranda replied. Sam was prone to them, usually when she was either working too hard or, as in this case, partying too hard. There was something about Miranda that just helped Sam slow down and unclench.

"How do you manage to feel so cool and nice all the time?"

"I like to sleep naked in the refrigerator," Miranda whispered.

"I would pay to see that!" Sam laughed. She looked up at Miranda with a wicked smile, "If we had snow, would you sleep naked in the snow?"

"Find me some snow and let's find out."

"I'm booking the flight to Aspen as soon as we're done here."