tagLesbian SexClassy, a Sapphic Siren Interlude

Classy, a Sapphic Siren Interlude

byOhYesLaney©

Melina Wilder hated airplanes. Even the touted luxury of Business Class was torture next to the ecstasy of using her own wings. Unfortunately, she couldn't fly from Vancouver to Ireland without the benefit of a jet. She had been tempted to try it, though.

A curse had left her and her siren sisters wingless except under one condition—sexual encounters with others could, for a short time, restore their ability to fly. From the beginning, Melina had indulged less often than her sisters—that is, until recently. And then she found herself on the receiving end of Claire Larkin's lesbian awakening. They spent two full days exploring each other. That experience had reawakened Melina's own sexual hunger—so much so that she hadn't spent more than two full days without sex since her interlude with Claire.

A steady diet of women and climaxes produced enough residual energy in her that she felt she could have flown twice around the world. But she wouldn't risk it. The sirens never flew across wide oceans or inhospitable terrain. They had no way of knowing how long their wings would last after any given interlude.

On this trip, moreover, Melina had to conserve her wings for the foes she would be facing in the Emerald Isle. That was the other reason she had resigned herself to the ten-hour trans-Atlantic flight inside an aluminum tube.

She hoped the drive from Dublin to Kenmare would hold more amusement for her. She didn't mind the current wait at the limousine rental office. It felt good to stand and stretch. And she was enjoying the altercation between the harried clerk and his haughty client.

"Why am I still waiting?" the customer asked. Her overly patient cadence implied she was anything but.

The clerk recognized the tone as well. "I'll just see about the delay, ma'am," he said before escaping.

His tormentor was an expensively dressed woman in a cream colored blazer with dark piping that matched the deep grey of her tailored skirt. A black scarf with white polka dots accented her ensemble. Melina loathed polka dots. They were unimaginative and hard on the eyes. The small circles on this pattern made it only slightly tolerable.

The woman's brown hair was done up in a French twist that aged her. But when she removed her sunglasses, only a few lines were visible around her eyes. Melina decided she was somewhere in her thirties. She was conventionally beautiful, to be sure. Melina would have been attracted to her, if not for the persistent disapproval in the woman's pursed red lips. They seemed to tighten further when the clerk returned with a young female chauffeur in tow.

"Apologies, Lady Beatrix," he began. "I've just gotten word that one of the two vehicles we had available has broken down and won't be repaired until this afternoon."

"Well, as I am only one passenger, I only need the one vehicle," she replied.

"But this lady also needs a vehicle," he said indicating Melina, "and she booked our limousine service in advance. You are Miss Wilder, are you not?" he asked her.

"I am," she replied with a smile.

"So you're giving this woman my car?" Lady Beatrix challenged.

"Actually, ma'am, Quinn here has a suggestion."

He tipped his head toward the twenty-something red-haired woman. Her attire was uniform—a black suit, white shirt, dark-green tie, white gloves, and a black chauffeur's cap. Darts in the garments cinched them in all the right places, showing off her feminine curves to flattering effect. Black pumps completed the ensemble, the low heels attesting to the young woman's skill at balancing sense and fashion.

Melina studied her face. She noticed an irresistible dusting of light freckles across the bridge of her pert nose, which was itself framed by alert blue eyes and friendly, bright pink lips. She found her quite simply adorable. She noticed that Quinn's hair was done up, too. French twists were apparently all the rage in Dublin.

"And what is Quinn's suggestion?" Lady Beatrix asked skeptically.

"Well," the clerk continued, "since Miss Wilder is on her way to Kenmare, and you are destined for Cork, which is on the way, Quinn wonders if the two of you wouldn't mind sharing."

"Oh, she does, does she?"

Melina detected the sharp edge of disapproval in Lady Beatrix's tone and in her head-to-toe scrutiny of Quinn. She decided to step in before the woman could dig her lacquered talons into their winsome driver.

"What a marvelous idea!" she said.

She was lying, of course. She couldn't think of anything worse than spending three hours with the abrasive Lady What's-Her-Name. But she knew that if the woman became insufferable, she could turn on her charm, un-purse those lips, and have fun with her. Melina was, after all, a striking woman. She had powers of persuasion that had nothing to do with being a siren. She flipped her long brown hair back, turned her blue-green eyes on the woman, and arched her back seductively, a gesture that pulled on the silk of her shirt to reveal some of that charm.

"It would give us a chance to get to know each other," she added rather intimately.

That got Lady Beatrix's attention. Her eyes landed on Melina's cleavage and then roamed down her curves. The survey nudged the condescension from her face and replaced it with curiosity.

Melina glanced over at the driver and was thrilled to see the young woman looking at her breasts, too. Her eyes then darted up to Melina's and remained there unabashed. The small smile on her face indicated she understood what Melina was doing. There was evident appreciation in her expression, for both the gesture and the cleavage.

The clerk failed to notice any of these exchanges. "Naturally, we would discount each of your bills by fifty percent," he said.

"Let's keep this simple," Melina replied. "Just put the entire expense on this," she added, handing him her charge card.

It was the exclusive Centurion Card, more famously known as the Black Card, an invitation-only, no-limit American Express. It was a symbol of wealth and privilege that Melina rarely flashed about, but she sensed it would impress Lady Beatrix. Judging from the woman's raised brow and half smile, she was right.

"As you wish, Miss Wilder," the clerk said taking her card. "Quinn can stow your luggage in the boot while I process this."

The driver began placing the bags on a cart to take them outside.

"Mind you don't scuff them," Lady Beatrix instructed. She trailed after Quinn leaving Melina alone with the clerk to settle the bill.

*****

When Melina got to the vehicle, she was pleased to see it had a traditional styling. The exterior was black on the sides and top with a steel grey front and back end. The six-passenger interior space had two banks of grey leather seating running the width of the vehicle and facing each other. There was ample carpeted leg room between them, enough to accommodate the addition of a small round wooden table with inserts for six flute glasses and a filled ice bucket in the middle. She recognized the yellow label on the bottle as a Veuve Clicquot.

The side panels were wood accented with nooks for more glasses, bottles, and snacks. Push-buttons in the recesses by each corner seat provided passengers with controls for the glass and privacy dividers, the intercom, the sunroof, and the interior lights. The limo was also outfitted with displays and speakers for personal entertainment. Melina doubted she would need them. She always found interesting ways to entertain herself.

She could tell already that the seating arrangements were going to provide a bit of fun. The Irish, like their British neighbors, still had the quaint custom of driving on the left side of the road—something having to do with keeping your sword arm nearer to potential oncoming opponents. A nearly universal custom for limousine travel, moreover, was that the position of privilege was the curbside back seat, also on the left side in Ireland. That's where the boss would sit. His second in command would sit to his right. Assorted minions and underlings sat opposite them in the rear facing middle seats. This was the seating that abutted the partition between the driver's area in front and the passenger compartment in back.

By the time Melina reached the limo, Lady Beatrix had already commandeered the privileged spot for herself. Evidently, she was intending to assume command of the rental that Melina was paying for. The cheek on that woman, Melina thought. Centuries of dealing with other egos, however, had taught her to avoid squabbling over minutia, so she accepted the rear facing seat with unflappable grace.

By way of counter strategy, however, she sat on the left side, too, which afforded her two advantages. She could angle sideways later and ogle the lovely Quinn through the glass partition. And by sitting directly across from Lady Beatrix, she closed the physical and social distance between them, a message that she knew her worthy opponent would receive.

The curbside door where they entered was still open. Quinn leaned in through it to speak with them.

"Excuse me, ladies," she said. "We'll be getting started shortly. We have a planned stopped at the halfway mark to Cork, about 90 minutes into the first leg of our journey. But please let me know if you need to stop sooner. The controls for the intercom and such are by your hands."

Quinn's lilting Irish brogue charmed Melina to no end. She wanted to hear more, but it was Lady Beatrix's stuffy British voice that nosed in.

"I wish to test the intercom. It was broken on the last rental I used, which proved to be extremely inconvenient." She punched the button once and then jutted her chin out at Quinn. "See if you can hear me," she instructed.

"Yes, ma'am, but you need to hold the button down to keep the intercom active."

Melina watched as Lady Beatrix poked the button again forcefully and continued pressing this time. Quinn moved away from the door and into the front of the vehicle. Melina could see her through the glass.

"Can you hear me, driver?" Beatrix asked.

"Yes, I can, Lady Beatrix. Can you hear me?" Quinn's voice crackled back over the intercom.

"Yes, that's fine." Beatrix took her finger off the button and sat back satisfied as Quinn returned to the open doorway.

"May I get either of you a wee bit of something to eat or drink before we set off?" she asked.

"Yes, you can start by opening up that bottle," Lady Beatrix replied, motioning to the magnum of Champagne.

Quinn pulled out a folded linen towel from a side panel and snapped it open with one whip of her hand. When she reached in for the bottle, her left breast grazed Melina's right knee. She looked at her but neither of them commented on the contact.

"Will you be having some Champagne, too, Miss Wilder?" she asked turning to hold the bottle outside of the limo while she deftly removed the cork. It sighed from the bottle cleanly.

"No, it's too early for me," she replied.

"Oh, but it's never too early for a Buck's Fizz," said Lady Beatrix with an uncharacteristic smile. "You do have orange juice, don't you?" she asked Quinn.

"Yes, ma'am," the young woman replied as she filled a flute glass halfway with Champagne before returning the bottle to the ice bucket. "Anything to eat?"

"No," Beatrix replied as she accepted the Champagne glass the young woman handed her.

Quinn then opened a refrigerated compartment next to Lady Beatrix and pulled out a small bottle of orange juice. She opened it before handing that, too, to Lady Beatrix, evidently deciding to let her add the proportion she preferred.

"And you, Miss Wilder?"

"A tea please, with milk and sugar."

"We also have freshly baked brown bread."

"That would be lovely."

While Quinn went back inside to get her breakfast, Melina observed her fellow passenger. Lady Beatrix poured barely a splash of orange juice into her glass before setting the little bottle aside. Quinn had made the right decision. She wouldn't have known Her Majesty likes extra fizz in her breakfast drink. Melina turned toward the window to hide a smile. She saw Quinn heading back moments later and enjoyed watching the sunlight catch in the wisps of hair that escaped her cap and her twist.

"Here you are, Miss Wilder. If you'll just pull down that middle panel in your seat, I'll set the tray down there."

"Of course."

The panel had a flat surface and two cup holders, one of which easily accommodated the clear glass footed Irish coffee mug that the hot tea was served in. The small tray Quinn handed her held a plate. On it was a thick slice of warm, fragrant brown bread with a slather of melting butter on top. It was just the way Melina liked it. She took an appreciative bite as Quinn continued.

"You'll find additional drinks, sandwiches, and other snacks in the fridge. That other compartment," she said pointing, "has nuts and crackers. And over there, you'll find additional plates, napkins, and silverware. Oh, and sugar, too, Miss Wilder, in case that isn't sweet enough for you."

Melina had just swallowed some tea. "It's perfect," she said truthfully. "And the bread, too. Thank you for suggesting it."

Quinn beamed back at her. "Well, if you ladies don't need anything else, we'll get going then."

She looked at each woman expectantly.

"That'll be all, driver," Lady Beatrix said with a dismissive wave of her flute glass. She would have spilt her drink if she hadn't already finished it.

Melina had to resist the temptation to scowl at her. She turned to the young woman. "You've provided very nicely for us, Quinn. Thank you."

*****

After Quinn closed the passenger door, she moved out of Melina's sight until she reached the driver's seat. Melina peered over her shoulder and watched her through the glass partition as the young woman settled in and started the engine. She would have continued watching her longer, but to her utter annoyance, the privacy partition started to go up. When she looked at Lady Beatrix, the woman was looking back at her with a raised brow as she very deliberately pressed a button on her control panel.

"Well, you did say you wanted to get to know me," she said. "We certainly can't have a private chat with the hired help eavesdropping."

It occurred to Melina that her companion was getting tipsy. She watched her pour herself some more Champagne, but this time, Lady Beatrix added an equal amount of juice into her glass. Then she glanced up at Melina.

"Don't worry, Miss Wilder, I'm pacing myself," she said.

Melina smiled. "Yes, it would be a tragedy if we ran out before your arrival in Cork," she said teasingly.

"Wouldn't it just?" Lady Beatrix replied playfully. "Of course, I would simply have driver restock during our stop at the halfway mark. Sooner if needed."

"Of course you would."

Melina finished her bread and then settled back with her cup of tea and the suddenly chatty Lady Beatrix.

"Are you here on business, Miss Wilder, because I certainly doubt it's for pleasure?" she added with a long suffering tone.

"I'm here to visit a very dear old friend to help her with a problem."

"A serious problem?"

Melina nodded. "Apparently. According to her, it's a life-and-death situation."

"Sounds mysterious."

"Very," Melina replied. "And you? Business, I take it, since you appear to dislike Ireland."

"It's lost its charm, I'm afraid. Great place to visit, but unfortunately I live here. My husband's firm transferred him here four years ago."

"So you're returning from a holiday?" Melina asked.

"Yes, a very short one."

"What is it you don't like about living here?"

"For one thing, the people are too forward. Some would say they're being 'friendly.' But I find all their inquiries into my health and hobbies and happenings rather intrusive."

"You could always choose not to answer," Melina offered.

"I don't answer, as a rule—for all the good it does me. One neighbor woman decided I was full of myself and announced to everyone within earshot that 'milady has a wee stick up her bum,' " Lady Beatrix said imitating the woman's accent.

Melina bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"I can tell you're amused. Go ahead and laugh if you like. I won't hold it against you."

Points for Lady B, Melina thought. "I'm not going to laugh. I understand you're simply used to a certain British decorum."

"Exactly! I knew you'd understand. Well, obviously you're British, too."

"I'm Canadian, actually. But I went to school in London, which is why I sound like a Brit."

None of that was actually true. She and her sisters were from a hidden island off the coast of what is now Italy, from a time when Greek civilization extended into that area. But immortals had to assume new identities every few decades to live among mortals undetected. They had learned English from living among the people of Albion on several different occasions throughout the centuries. The details she had just given Lady Beatrix were for her current alias.

"And what is it you do for a living, Miss Wilder?"

"Oh, a number of things. Investments, mostly."

Lady Beatrix smiled. "So you are a woman of independent means."

"All women have independent means. Some just haven't realized their potential yet. And others aren't allowed to."

"Ah, you're a feminist, too."

"Of course," she replied smiling. "Aren't you?"

Lady Beatrix made a face. "Much ado," she said.

Melina studied her a moment. Her expression was too schooled. She decided Lady Beatrix was trying to get a rise out of her, and she wasn't going to oblige. She had known too many women so utterly bored with their own lives that they entertained themselves by turning to temper and game play. Melina's response was always the same—no scowl or hint of disapproval, just calm and quiet. Indifference was often the best tool in one's arsenal.

After a moment, Lady Beatrix smiled broadly. "You are not easily baited, are you, Miss Wilder?"

"Please, call me Melina."

"And you must call me Beatrix."

"So what do you do to pass the time, Beatrix? Do you work outside the home?"

"I do volunteer work for wildlife rescue."

"Fascinating."

"Not really, I'm afraid. I spend most of my time grant writing for several rehabilitation centers throughout the country, which is tedious work. But one plays to one's strengths, and I've discovered I'm rather good at asking people for money."

Melina laughed. "Do you get to work with the animals at all?"

"Yes, I spend a little time at nearby centers. The closest one is a hedgehog-only facility. There's also one in Macroom, which is about a half hour drive from Cork. That one handles all wildlife. But I prefer the one in Ballincollig. I rather like hedgehogs."

Melina found it amusing that the prickly Lady B had a fondness for other spiny mammals. But she understood the attraction. "I like them, too," she said.

Beatrix reached for the Champagne again and poured herself another glass. She mixed in the rest of the juice, as well, a mere ounce or two.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like some Champagne?" she asked.

"Quite sure," Melina replied. She reached forward, opened the refrigerated compartment, and pulled out a Perrier. "But I'll keep you company with this kind of sparkly," she added.

The small grin on Beatrix's face suggested she appreciated the gesture. She looked at her watch and frowned. "Well, that conversation killed less than ten minutes. What should we talk about now? Politics? The weather? Mmm, or perhaps something spicier. You could tell me about the men in your life."

The suggestion amused Melina. "Now there's a conversation that wouldn't last even ten seconds."

"Oh? Are there women in your life then?"

Melina nodded. "Absolutely. And more every day," she added with a broad smile.

"You're a player, then."

"Not at all. My affections are genuine, but varied."

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byOhYesLaney© 10 comments/ 11148 views/ 22 favorites

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