A New Alexandra Ch. 11

"Yep. Y'all don't really want to be in the middle of a good old art scene grudge match, but Chicago and Houston have one, and lucky me gets to be squarely on both sides."

"Come on, Blondie. What's your honest opinion?" Meg had returned from the skate rental, hands full.

"Honestly? The Houston one looks like the spaceship from Arrival crossbred with a vibrator."

"You make a compelling case for public arts spending." Mette didn't even look up from lacing a skate. Damn, she's as sarcastic as Kira and I are.

"My wife's just jealous. If Oslo had anything half as famous as the Bean, she'd never shut up about it."

"And if my wife ever missed a chance to slag off my hometown, she'd shut up a lot more." Ouch. At least Meg's laughing.

"Fine, you win. Everyone ready?"

They all exchanged nods. Seconds later, Alexandra stepped carefully onto the rink. Like riding a bike. It'll come right back.

It did, but by the time she felt comfortable, Kira and Mette had raced ahead.

"Your girlfriend's hella competitive," said Meg, right by Alexandra's side. "She'll never win, and she knows it."

"Why?"

The brunette laughed. "Mette was a competitive speed skater, all the way up to junior nationals. Which in Norway is, I gather, rather impressive."

"So what you're saying is they'll zoom around and we can chill with the music and the city lights?"

"Pretty much." There wasn't much of a crowd, which meant both that there was little to run into and that the piped-in carols were easily audible. "Unless they play 'Jingle Bell Rock,' in which case I'll be puking over the railing."

"That'll be both of us," said Alexandra. "Speaking of puking, how wasted was Lucía by the end?"

"Yeah, wow. Seeing her hammered is sorta like if a nun stubbed her toe and shouted 'Damn it! Damn it all to hell!' I mean, it's possible, but it has this crazy unreality about it."

And now I see why Kira likes this chick so much. Cute, warped sense of humor, takes no shit from anyone.

They skated in parallel for a minute, the rhythmic rasping of skate blades their only conversation. Mette whizzed by at a crazy speed, with Kira not far behind.

"They're gonna kill someone," Meg said. "At least Mette knows a few lawyers. I wonder if they'd charge a co-worker a thousand bucks an hour."

"Wait, are lawyers really that expensive?"

"Some of them are, yeah, at her firm. Makes silly little airline pilot me look like a peasant. By the way, that's why I wasn't drinking tonight, not because I'm the babysitter or some shit."

"What do you mean?"

The music switched. A saxophone rendition of Deck the Halls wafted over the rink. Rinkside, a photographer with a professional-looking camera snapped photos of the dwindling crowd.

"There are rules about how long you need to be dry before you fly an airplane. Twelve hours. Because I'm a shrimp and so risk-averse that I sample ice cream flavors before ordering them even when I've had them before, I double that. I know, I'm so fun that it hurts."

"Would you feel more fun if you had a Santa hat?"

"Damn right, New Girl. Thought you'd never offer."

Alexandra laughed, removing the felt hat. "I think it cost less than the drinks Mette bought me."

"If my wife is buying you drinks and you're giving me a hat, I think we're officially friends, New Girl."

"Agreed, Megan."

"Hey, at least Megan actually is my name. One question, though: what's your last name?"

"Girl, like you said." Mette whizzed by, arms raised in triumph.

Meg backhanded her new friend gently. "Seriously, though."

"Henderson. What's yours?"

Meg laughed. "Oh, Riis. Same as that crazy bitch. The world wasn't short on Megan Smiths, so I changed it when we got married."

Oh. Duh.

Arms encircled Alexandra's waist from behind. "Hey there." Kira voice. Kira smell.

"Hey, stranger." Alexandra kissed the side of her girlfriend's cheek. "Meg and I decided we like each other's company better than you two anyway."

"Oh, fuck off," said Kira, spinning around Alexandra and holding her hands while skating backwards. She was red-faced, catching her breath. "What?"

"Just a little surprised that a Texas girl can skate like you do, love."

"I'm full of secrets." Kira checked behind her, then skated a perfect circle, leg extended in the air. "Or, my mother forced me to take figure skating lessons. We had a deal after seven years of war: she'd stop making me take lessons and I'd stop bugging her to let me play hockey."

"You'd probably be pretty good at hockey," said Mette, appearing from behind. Jeez, she's not even winded.

"Yes. Life's full of regrets, isn't it?"

"Enough of them, yes," said Mette. She ran a hand through her dark hair, smoothing it. "Missed opportunities, at least."

The couples paired off again, Alexandra and Kira skating hand-in-hand. They snuck kisses as they orbited the rink, Mette and Meg just ahead.

Kira skated backwards, nose-to-nose with Alexandra. She's just too irresistible, Alexandra thought, arms resting on the taller woman's shoulders. They kissed, no sneaking this time: a full, passionate kiss. A lovers' kiss.

They broke apart, the taste of Kira's lips lingering on Alexandra's.

"Wanna do something fun tonight?" Uh-oh, that mischievous tone. That one usually leads to trouble.

"Nah. I hate fun." She squeezed her girlfriend's hand. "Of course."

"Hm. You like them, don't you?"

Alexandra nodded.

"If you were single and they were single, which one would you rather date?"

"Date, or fuck?"

"Is the answer different?" Kira slid her hand around Alexandra's waist.

"Always so blunt. No, the answer's not different." Where the heck is she going with this? Not that I find myself upset at contemplating the possibility of fucking either of them...ugh.

"And what's the answer?"

"Mette. But that's not to say I wouldn't happily hook up with Meg. Why?"

"Why Mette?"

Alexandra leaned into her girlfriend, taking in a whiff of perfume. "She's a lot like you. Tall, funny, a bit mysterious." Voice low. Don't want anyone overhearing. "Oh, also hot as all hell. And I bet she'd be fabulous in bed." You tease me, I tease you.

"She is. So's Meg."

"I'm sorry?" Wait, did she just say what I think she did?

"Mette and Meg are both excellent in bed. Quite different from one another, but both amazing. What are you, deaf?"

"You've..."

"Mhm." Kira winked.

"Together?"

"Mhm." Ugh. Now that's a show I'd watch. "More than once, I'd add."

"You're so mean."

"Am I?"

Ahead of them, Mette had hopped the side board. Meg waited at the exit.

"After telling me something like that, you expect me to wait to get home and rip your clothes off?"

"Oh, no. I don't expect that at all. Not so quick on the uptake tonight, are you?"

Oh. Moments like these make me feel like the naïve college chick I was when we started dating.

"If you're implying what I think you are, then...um, yes, fucking yes please." Visions flashed through Alexandra's head; butterflies filled her stomach; warmth arrived between her legs.

Kira squeezed her. "That's exactly what I'm implying. And for the record, Mette's thoughts about you are pretty similar. But you can find that out for yourself, can't you?"

They stopped in front of Meg.

"Rink's closing in ten minutes," she said. "We're gonna get going. New Girl, Kira already knows this, but you two are welcome to come back to our place now."

"We'd love that," said Alexandra.

--

The rowhouse's first floor seemed larger than her previous visit. It's the ceiling height, Alexandra thought. Ten feet? Twelve? They stood around the kitchen island, having left their shoes by the door.

"We can't have my wife ruining the hardwood with her stiletto arsenal," Mette explained. "Besides, it's the Norwegian custom to remove your shoes when entering a house."

"Ah, yes, the 'hardwood' excuse." Meg rolled her eyes. "Anything to make sure she gets her height advantage."

Alexandra looked up at her girlfriend, whose hand sat lightly on her back.

"Just let us know how the weather is down there," said Kira. "You too, Alexandra."

"Weather is chilly with a 100% chance of mean blondes." The hand moved down, squeezing Alexandra's booty through the dress. Ooooh.

"Easy there, munchkin. You want mean, I can do mean." Mette and Meg laughed, exchanging a glance. What did that look indicate? "Or would you prefer that Ms. Riis handle that for you?"

"Careful, New Girl. I work in a public-facing job, so I'm all about customer service." Meg winked as she delivered the line. "But Mette?"

"But Mette what?" Kira. Seriously, did you literally just lick your lips?

"But Mette needs a glass of wine," said the woman herself. "New Girl, will you join me?"

"Gladly."

Mette pulled two glasses down from the rack overhead. "Your move on the wine, sweetie. If Blondie here wants in, she can get her own."

Kira ran her fingertips up Alexandra's spine. Mmmm.

"I'm fine," she said. "Can't leave Meg as the only sober one, can we?"

"Well, you can. But that would be, like, mean."

"You're a mean girl, Cady Heron. You're a bitch."

"Oooh, New Girl, quickest off the mark with the Mean Girls quote. You'll fit in here."

Alexandra bent down, selecting a bottle from the well-stocked wine rack.

"Did they even release Mean Girls in Norwegian?" Kira, a sly grin on her face. "Or Danish, maybe?"

Now it was Mette's turn to roll her eyes. Good skill, thought Alexandra. Eye-rolling while uncorking a Merlot.

"Tispe," replied the tall woman, icy eyes fixed on Kira. She poured the wine. Pushed a glass to Alexandra. "Skål, Alexandra."

"To...whatever," said Kira.

"Hold kjeft, tispe." Mette, again directed to Kira. "What? You you want Scandi Girl, you get Scandi Girl."

"Scandi Girl, you are my world," sang Meg. A particularly obnoxious falsetto imitation of an obnoxious song.

"Megan Riis, if you sing another line of that song, I'm going to ask Blondie to slap the shit out of you."

"No, Blondie is a different '80s group. Or did they not make it to Norway?" You're adding fuel to the fire, Kira.

"Doesn't matter," said Meg. "You look so sweet, you're a special treat." Same falsetto. Actually sounds like Bobby Brown.

"Oooooh," said Kira. Her fingers reached Alexandra's head, raking over the freshly-buzzed hair. Oh. Oh wow. More of that, please.

"Blondie, she's all yours. Please, whatever you do, get my wife out of this room."

"Megan?" The hand dropped from Alexandra's back. "Will you please come with me?"

Meg cocked her head. "Do you think New Girl can manage on her own?"

"She's got a glass of wine. She'll be fine." Kira bent over, breath on Alexandra's ear. "Have fun," she whispered. "See you in a bit."

With that, they disappeared. Meg blew a kiss as she pranced away, Santa hat askew.

"See ya later, Scandi-cane!"

"Ugh, Scandi-cane." Mette leaned over the kitchen island. "She saves that one for when she really wants to yank my chain. I'd tell her to go fuck herself, but it seems she has better options."

Alexandra slid her glass carefully across the island, then let her body follow around to the other side.

Mette continued. "I suppose I can't blame her. Meg and her willing accomplice haven't been together in a while. Anyway. Enough about my wife for now."

"And her willing accomplice."

"Her too." Mette twirled the glass between long fingers. "I suppose we might as well take advantage of the situation, yes?"

God, yes. Please. Alexandra leaned with her back to the counter, facing Mette.

"Depends on what your options are, hm? You've got 'go fuck yourself,' or...?" Alexandra ran a long-nailed finger over the taller woman's arm.

"That's one option." Mette hiked up her sweater's sleeves, exposing her forearms. "Not my preferred one."

"Not mine, either."

"Sounds like we're on the same page, then." Wow, I love her accent. It's as crisp as a winter evening. "Of a very good book."

"Let me guess," said Alexandra, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. "Something something lesbians something rowhouse, add some wine and...?"

"And this." Their hands met, fingers interlaced. "Perhaps we shall make short work of the wine, yes?"

"As long as you promise not to call me New Girl."

Mette smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. What's the shade of brown one tick away from black? Let's call it Mette Riis Brown.

"I told you that you shouldn't listen to my wife."

"What wife?" Alexandra leaned in, lips grazing the taller woman's.

"Slut," whispered Mette.

Amazing, thought Alexandra as their lips met. Confident and tender. Perfect. The kiss lasted. Mette's hand caressed Alexandra's neck, gently kneading the muscle. Their tongues traced each other's lips while Alexandra's fingers rose to Mette's cheek.

Gently. She traced the brunette's jawbone with a fingertip. Mette nibbled her lip in response, sending a shiver through Alexandra.

Alexandra boosted herself up and sat on the countertop. Her legs folded naturally around Mette's waist, arms resting atop her shoulders.

"I like your style," said Mette, gathering her for another passionate kiss. Their tongues flitted back and forth, dancing their way to an instant familiarity.

The chemistry is perfect. And my body is responding, thought Alexandra. Heat spread between her legs, radiating throughout her. Her lips absorbed more of Mette's flavor cut with the edge of Merlot, her nose inhaling the woman's unfamiliar scent.

"Mmm. I like yours too. And your wine."

"You're welcome to as much as you like. After." Her fingers toyed with Alexandra's hemline.

"I suppose I should finish this, then."

"I suppose." Alexandra lifted the glass while Mette stepped back, slowly drawing her sweater upwards. A taut midriff came into view, followed by a plum-colored bra. Wow, her torso is so long. And so deliciously enticing. Inch after inch of tight, pale skin.

The sweater fell to the floor. Alexandra emptied the glass. Fruity aftertaste bathed her palate as her fingers unzipped the back of her dress. OK. It's time to show off.

She eased it off. Mette immediately attacked the newly-exposed skin. Her lips found Alexandra's sternum, tongue tracing a line to directly underneath her chin.

"Mmmmmm." The warmth between her legs had turned into an inferno. Her nails raked Mette's bare back. Dear Meg: If you let me fuck your wife, I'll make sure you know it. Love, New Girl. The counter's stone on Alexandra's bare skin enhanced the feelings: hot breath, cool air, hot pussy, cool booty.

Alexandra's bra fell to the floor, victim of skilled hands. "May I?"

"Mette." Alexandra heard her voice turn to a hoarse rasp. "For fuck's sake, you know damn well that you can suck on my tits." And please do it.

"Only one pesky piece of fabric to go. Now is good." Mmmm. Not a question now. Alexandra whisked off the skimpy thong, adding it to the pile. Mette's fingers immediately replaced it.

Fuuuuuuuuck. Lips closed around Alexandra's nipple. Teeth nibbled and twisted the hardening nub while a finger slid up Alexandra's slit, scooping moisture as it went.

Mette slid the digit between her lips, barely pausing from her attention to Alexandra's chest.

"Mmmm, delicious. I can't wait to get more."

"Take... all you want." Mette pulled Alexandra's nipple between her teeth, eliciting a gasp. It's like she already knows my weak spots. Fingers found their mark. Her hands found Mette's hair, running through the thick, dark strands.

Alexandra closed her eyes. The sounds of Mette sucking and slurping on her tits mixed with the rubbing between her legs, her own gasps and moans, and another set of sounds. More moans. From upstairs, wafting down. Sounds like Mette's wife is also having a good time, Alexandra thought.

Her body tightened, succumbing to her new lover's touch.

"Mmmmm...Unnnn...oooooh," she said, voice rising as Mette switched to the opposite breast. Two fingers plunged inside Alexandra, ratcheting up her state of arousal. Mette's free hand spread across Alexandra's abs, muscles tensing.

God, she's wonderful. This feels like we've known each other for years. The perfect balance of aggressive and delicate.

"Oh...mmmmm..." Alexandra heard her voice losing control as pure lust swamped over her. I want her. No, I need her right now.

The fingers in her crotch drove deeper, one extra-hard push. Then they withdrew. Mette's tongue ceased toying with Alexandra's nipple, and the fingers vanished from her stomach.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Her eyes opened.

Mette grinned, stark white teeth against wet lips. "I've heard you like to be brought right to the edge, honey." Oh, fuck you, Kira. Fuck you so hard, giving her a goddamn instruction manual. "Don't worry. We'll make you cum. Later. All three of us. Deal?"

Holy hell, absolutely. Alexandra nodded, taking Mette's proffered hand.

"Living room, honey."

Alexandra felt as if she was floating across the floor. The room registered as little more than a smudge of exposed brick, a tall bookshelf jammed with a rainbow of spines, and framed wall art.

"Kneel." Mmmmmmm. Now this is getting good. No 'please,' just an order. Alexandra met the slender woman's eyes. Ice-blue, commanding. Sharp, like her features and the blunt bob haircut.

She knelt. Mette's fingers traced her jawline. She felt something hard on one of them. Oh. A ring. Her wedding ring. Because I'm on my knees between the legs of a married woman more than a decade older than me. She grasped the hand, interlacing her fingers with Mette's long digits. Just say what's on your mind.

"I think it's extremely sexy that you're married and want me," she said. I feel like such a slut saying it, but I absolutely love that I'm doing it. It has this amazing taboo factor.

"And I think it's equally hot that you're with someone as amazing as Kira and yet you want me as well. And your hair, honey..." She trailed off.