Fate Intervened

When Olive, already high on the thrill of pushed boundaries and vodka, was dancing with Max, her longtime friend-of-a-friend, she didn't object to the other woman's adventurous hands and grinding hips. Before the blinding light of the closing hour had a chance to ruin their fun, Max pulled Olive close to yell a whispered invitation.

The bump of adrenaline with her nodded acceptance in the overwhelming energy of the club fueled the intoxicating joy that blurred reality so delightfully.

Slender fingers wound together as Max navigated the mass of bodies on the dance floor, guiding them toward the entrance. Catching the eye of the friends she'd come with, Olive blushed at her overt excitement. They all knew Max well enough, through rumor or personal interaction, to know where Olive would be spending the night.

Through the cottony pressure of temporary partial deafness, Olive heard her own giggles as they drunkenly stumbled some number of blocks, oblivious to the wary attention of the transients they woke or creeping interest of passing cars.

Max's femininity couldn't be hidden completely beneath the male-styled clothes she wore, nor did she try to repress it. She simply was.

Thin arms around the more curvaceous young woman, Max tickled continued high-pitched squeals from Olive until they reached the sickly yellow lights of her aging apartment building.

Leading Olive up the stairs, Max rattled out a quick lowdown on what to expect. "I hope you like dogs! Oh, and my roommate might be up."

She opened the flimsy door, no apparent thought to a key, to the instant tsunami of a furry greeting, masses of wagging bodies and tails.

Brown mixes of dog varieties, the two large mutts showed Olive instant attention that was replaced with continued searching upon realizing she was empty handed.

The musty smell in the dank living room would have been objectionable were she sober, but Olive let Max toss her onto the lumpy couch as the sound of dog tags jingled throughout the background.

Lips met hungrily as Max ground her into the cushions, her jeans rubbing against Olive's inner thighs and turning her little black skirt into a belt. It wasn't Olive's first kiss with a woman by far, but she'd never kissed one this passionate, this confident. The tepid pecks of college girls who weren't sure if they would enjoy the soft warmth of another woman's tongue, even as they bravely dared to try, were in another realm compared to the masterful teasing pressure and ferocity of Max's lips.

The grind of her leaner frame into the soft heat of Olive's own yielding breasts as the woman above arched her back, squaring her shoulders to look down appreciatively, drenched her cotton panties, undoubtedly leaving a spot on the jeans that rubbed against her swelling clit.

Even outside of the hypnotizing music and blurring lights of the club, Max was exquisite, with high cheekbones and a jaw that accentuated an inviting neck that was never hidden by hair. Its current boyish incarnation was shaved on the sides with a slicked back blonde shock on top.

Makeup would have looked out of place, except maybe some mascara or eyeliner to make those deep blue eyes pop, Olive vaguely thought as Max playfully took her wrists and brought them to her head before diving into another all-consuming kiss.

The pop of an opening can caught the attention of the undulating mass on the couch. Olive's hands had wriggled loose and were about to pull the ribbed white tank top over Max's head when the sound made them aware of the men in the kitchen.

Standing with a beer, a scruffy twenty-something, dirty blond hair straightened by the weight of its own oils, tried to talk through his amused grin. "Don't let me stop you."

Max, first to recover, grinned right back from her perch above Olive. Making no move to get up, she chuckled, "Oh, hey, nice to meet ya." Olive blushed furiously beneath and moved her hands from Max's shirt to her own skirt, but it refused to budge with the other woman wedged between her thighs.

"Didn't see you when we came in..." Max continued, clearly proud of herself.

"Um..." Olive squirmed uncomfortably, wondering how much of a show she'd inadvertently given.

"No, really," the man tipped his beer encouragingly. "Go ahead."

"Oh, she will too," the other man, possibly the aforementioned roommate, laughed suggestively. Neither moved to leave the kitchen.

As Max returned her attention to Olive, the more self-conscious young woman twisted awkwardly. "*Do* you have a room?" she asked, both hopeful and suddenly dubious.

With a heavy-lidded grin, Max spoke in a husky voice. "Whatever you want," the initial word pulling Olive into a tunnel, dulling her to the surrounding world.

Ignoring the annoyed, if playful, boos from the kitchen, Olive let Max lead her down a dark hall while she fumbled absently at her immodestly high skirt. Littered with clothes that Olive gingerly stepped around and on, the room was lit by horizontal slashes of moonlight cutting through the partially closed blinds.

With a falling leap into the unmade bed, Olive crawled to the edge, Max descending on the backs of her exposed thighs, hands pushing her black cotton panties up and out of the way to grab her ass. Olive's girlish squeal echoed off the bare walls.

"God damn you're fun," Max marveled while running her hands higher, grabbing the tight T shirt, damp and sticky with club sweat, to pull up and over Olive's head. It was lost instantly to the darkness, and Max pinched the clasp at the center of Olive's back, loosing the bra with practiced ease.

Sliding her hands between the mattress and Olive's arching body, Max burrowed her face into her lover's neck. As her fingers found Olive's tight nipples, Max latched on to the delicate base of her neck, licking at the excruciatingly sensitive skin.

A spinning rush accompanied the desperate wave of need as Olive craned her lower back into Max's hips. "Sweet Jesus," she heard her own wavering voice, muffled by the pile of bedding.

Nuzzling her face higher, behind Olive's ear, Max blasted hot air along her scalp. "Do you know how long I've wanted to fuck you?"

Deliriously excited, eager for a physical interpretation of the vague specificity, Olive breathlessly encouraged "Yes! Please! Fuck me!" The next heartbeat drove Max's hips against Olive's ass as she moaned in happy need.

Letting herself be turned over, Olive took in the gorgeous creature above her while she stripped off her top. Max's thin frame hinted at a heroine chic but with underlying muscles. Streaked across by alternating lines of white-blue light and indigo, she was an '80s salon painting.

Olive reached forward, eager to explore the curves of her stomach, cup her taut breasts, but Max hopped off the bed.

With a careful yank, Max pulled Olive's pesky skirt and panties down and over her boots. Laces tugged and wrenched in the dark until Olive's feet finally wiggled free.

Naked in the middle of the bed, Olive rolled with closed eyes, grasping for the return of Max's body. "Come back," she mewled. The obvious, erotic sound of jeans unzipping and falling to the floor was followed by the pressure of Max climbing between Olive's legs, trailing her fingers along her thighs as she kissed her way toward Olive's eager pussy.

Anticipating a mauling, the bold, testing lapping at her throbbing clit made Olive gasp with burning need. Moaning, she arched her hips forward, but Max teased back with an appreciative hum. Every cell anticipated Max's arrival as she worked her way up Olive's stomach and between her breasts with raked teeth and sensual kisses.

Awash in endorphins, Olive writhed against Max's soft flesh, enjoying the rub of their breasts as Max slid up, reaching for something to the side of the bed. Lying back with impatient patience, icy hot excitement rushed through her thighs.

Watching the zebra-striped Max maneuvering the firm tip of something past her own engorged lips was maddening.

Olive's head fell back with a flood of heat, her hips angling to accept a descending tool Max worked past her outermost folds.

Slowly pumping her hips allowed each burrowing drive deeper access until Max's rolling hips alone guided its entire slick length, leaving her hands free to cascade up Olive's sides.

With an explosive thrust, Max drove her pelvis into Olive while descending to meet her lips, consuming her ecstatic moan. The unyielding nob in her depths ground nearly painful until the filling heat swelled around it.

Scratching and pawing appreciatively at the flexing muscles of Max's back as she worked short strokes into her pussy, Olive ground back, able to fully indulge her deepest itch without worry the steadily building pressure wouldn't be released.

"Yeah, baby?" Max's increasingly deep voice against her neck asked in response to Olive's rising pitch. Positioning herself on her elbows to maintain the angle of pressure that was turning Olive's legs to a quivering mass, Max took advantage of the never-slackening member and relentlessly triggered white hot explosion after explosion.

Olive felt her own malfunctioning reactions as she tried to reach for Max's shoulder, collapsing under the crippling electricity of another orgasmic pulse. Every movement, every breath, a crashing, careening wave until, limp and sweaty, she was shown the mercy of Max's withdrawal.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Max cooed with trailing fingers that raised goosebumps on her chest.

Olive wanted to call out the audacity of her statuesque beauty calling *her* pretty, but instead, tracing the diagonal line of the moon's angled light on the curve of her upper arm, said, "I want to look at you like this forever."

Noticing the crack in Olive's voice, Max grinned. "I'm gonna get us some water."

"Good idea," Olive agreed grudgingly, wiggling in the sheets and inspecting the large penis-shaped thing Max left in the bed.

Max grabbed at the clothes about the floor, ending up with men's boxers and a wrinkled T shirt before walking into the dark hallway.

Picking up the dark-colored phallus, Olive wasn't sure what she was looking at. There's no way this full length was in her, and it didn't attach to any strap-on she'd ever seen. Though clearly she wasn't the expert here.

Male laughter from the kitchen reminded her that their privacy was limited, and Olive blushed, putting the odd toy down as though someone were watching and chose *that* second to judge prudishly.

Moments later, Max returned with a water bottle and small glass. Cracking open the bottle, she poured for Olive, who took it with a smile. "Thanks."

"Gotta stay hydrated," Max wiggled her eyebrows in suggestion of the marathon she intended.

Ignoring her own advice, Max put the rest of the water aside and threw herself sideways across Olive, kicking her feet up like a teenage girl on the phone from an old timey ad.

Max grabbed the toy. "Want me to show you how to use it?" The thought of taking control of that beast was a tiny bit intimidating, even though she'd be driving, and her widening eyes must have given away her doubt. With a self-satisfied smirk, Max continued, "Or I can show you what else it can do."

She rolled on to her back and put the bulb at the end of the device into her vagina, leaving several inches of curving rod that ended with the ridge of a faux head exposed. Squaring her hips, Max held the dark silicon penis at its base, presenting it for Olive to straddle.

Crawling to mount the spear being offered, Olive was emboldened under the gaze of this exquisite creature whose eyes were on all parts of her body.

Lowering herself with the thought of care, worried its unyielding firmness would be like fucking a robot, she instantly melted around it, head falling back as she felt her chest flush.

"God damn, baby!" Max's voice sounded pained as she held Olive's thighs while they worked the tip of the toy in the most precise spot. Feeling infinitely sexier than she ever had, riding the other gorgeous woman who was so interested in pleasing her, the heady mixture of pleasure and exhaustion were suddenly at war.

Mind whirling, a twitching orgasm tried to fall in muted waves as the room became heavy.

"Are you okay?"

Climbing off, Olive mumbled, "Yeah, that's... I just... the night caught up with me all of a sudden."

————

Max watched her sexy creature crash into unconsciousness startlingly quickly, but body-rocking orgasms can wear a girl out, she mused, kissing Olive's shoulder and pulling a sheet up to cover their lower halves.

Breathing into her sweaty hair, Max easily found sleep wrapped around her lover.

A tickle at her feet tried to wake her. Then a yank of her leg.

"What the fuck?" she started awake, kicking in the direction of the confusion. She was instantly released.

"You're awake?" There were two shapes, men, barely visible. Max quickly recognized the stranger from the kitchen and her roommate, Trey.

"What — yeah I'm fucking awake!" she snapped, jumping from the bed naked but undaunted, causing the stranger to raise his hands defensively and take a step back. He looked at her roommate, accusing.

Trey shrugged helplessly before turning back to Max. "You didn't drink the water?" he glanced at the clear bottle on the nightstand.

Max followed his gaze. Heart speeding, her head snapped to Olive, who was still lying there, blissfully unaware of the commotion.

"You son of a —"

"We thought we were going to do this the easy way," the stranger interrupted, his momentary retreat halted as he reassessed the situation.

"Do what?" Max boldly demanded.

"Why don't you ask your roommate?" the stranger chuckled.

"Because he's an unmotivated, weak-willed douchebag. So I'm betting this is all you," she threw back without looking at Trey and his muttered "hey..."

Nodding toward the bottle, the stranger said, "Do everyone a favor, and drink that."

Max looked at the nightstand and instantly swatted the water to the floor, spilling its contents into the carpet and nearby clothes.

"Get the FUCK out of here," Max snarled, hands in fists and shoulders tensed with readied action.

The stranger looked to Trey, then her fists. "You really think you can take both of us?" It was a serious question.

"Just you," she lunged forward, trying to catch him in the side with an elbow, but he turned, anticipating her attack.

Arms encircled her from behind, trapping her elbows at her sides, but Max was able to bring her heel down hard on top of his foot, weakening his grip enough to twist free.

Suddenly, Max was face to face with Trey, who still stood paralyzed with indecision in the same spot near the door. She ignored him, turning her attention back to the stranger, who was half hopping, shaking his foot as if to dissipate the pain from her stomp.

"I guess I'm gonna have to hurt you — or your girlfriend," he interrupted himself as he grabbed the ankle of the drugged Olive.

As Max instinctively flew forward to interrupt him, the greasy-haired stranger yelled out, "Grab her, dude. Fuck!"

The startled Trey finally moved, snatching for the backs of Max's arms.

Instantly wresting her right arm free, Max sent her elbow back into Trey's face, hitting sensitive tissue with a crunch and knocking him back.

The stranger had pulled Olive's rag doll body off the bed, and he juggled her awkward weight as he started backing up.

"Put her down!"

He shuffled backward toward the door, Olive's heels pulling articles of clothing along as they dragged across the carpeted floor.

"I'm not leaving without at least one of you."

He called to Trey, who was now between them. "Don't let her leave the room." Trey took on a wide-legged stance, hands outstretched and ready to intercept her.

Max rolled her eyes. "I will put you in the *fucking* ground," she warned Trey, who reeled almost imperceptibly, eyes darting apprehensively over his shoulder.

"In fact..." she swung a leg out, taking full advantage of the exposed groin before her.

Trey howled in pain and fell to the ground clutching his junk.

"Shit," the man in the doorway now held Olive as a shield as he backed faster down the narrow, dark hallway. Opening into the living room and adjacent kitchen, he was able to snatch a knife from over the bar.

Holding it at Olive's throat, he stopped his retreat, dangerous threat fully illuminated by the domed light of the kitchen.

Max's ghostly white hands flew up in the dark hall as she tried to stop herself. Him. Time itself. "Whoa!"

"Here's what's gonna happen," the greasy stranger said darkly. "You're gonna just turn back around —"

"I'd rather die," Max interrupted sharply without moving. "Any other offers?"

"You'd rather she die?" he asked, visibly surprised.

"You're not going to kill her."

"You're really that sure?" his eyebrows rose incredulously.

Max looked at him as hard as she could. "We both know she isn't going to survive leaving with you. You're *not* taking her."

Hearing the shuffling behind her, Max quipped back without turning her head. "I swear to god, Trey, if you make me put you down again..." The sounds stopped.

"You're a lot more headache than I thought..."

"Then just walk away, man. Let her go, and just get the fuck out of here. Out of town. Because I promise you," she took a risky step forward, "if you take her, hurt her, it will be my life's singular goal to find and kill you."

"Bold words for a naked, unarmed dyke," the creep observed, his movement toward the door resumed as he held Olive around the waist and at the neck, knife thankfully now to the side as her chin lolled in his elbow.

"Right," she agreed, hinting at unseen fangs the threat carried.

As he reached the hand with the knife awkwardly behind to open the front door, Olive's body heavily lurched forward. Losing his grip, she slumped to the floor, and he took the opportunity to slip through the partially open door before her weight pushed it shut behind him. A brief thunder of steps, he vaulted down the stairs in full retreat.

The abandoned knife clattered to the floor by the door and Olive's limp form.

"Mother fucker!" Max struggled to move her dead weight out of the way but gave up almost instantly. "You better run!" she yelled after him through the door.

Dropping to check that the knife hadn't actually caused any damage, Max moved Olive's messy hair around her neck.

"Everything okay in there?" She hadn't heard his approaching steps, but the familiar voice of the downstairs neighbor called from beyond the door as it tried to open, still stopped by a lump of an Olive.

"Yeah — I mean no! Hang on," she heaved Olive to the side, and the door swung wide open, her neighbor Ben, in cuter sleepwear than his usual aging punk attire would have suggested, stood looking alarmed and sleepy, black and red striped pants and white T shirt giving him a cartoon pirate vibe.

"That wasn't the usual — oh shit, you're naked — oh fuck, what happened to her?" he struggled to take in the scene.

"Help me get her off the floor," she instantly took Olive's arm, boosting her up. With Ben's help, they moved her to couch.

"Is she hurt?" he asked, obviously looking over her exposed body for some injury.

"I hope not — I don't think so."

Looking at hands that now shook with unspent adrenaline, Max said, "Call the cops. My roommate fucking drugged us — well, her."

"Is that so?" Ben said, bristling with protective anger.

"Yeah, call the cops," Trey's voice suddenly called from the darkness of Max's bedroom. "They'll protect me from her. She's crazy. Be careful! She attacked me!"

Ben looked back at Max, eyebrow cocked in disbelief, and shook his head before reaching for his phone. "What an asshole — hi, 911? Yeah..."

As Ben handled the phone call, Max watched the backs of his ears below the shaggy, overgrown black mop get redder and redder. Down the hall, Trey had closed the door, maybe barricading himself in, given the odd thumps.