Leveraging Teamwork Synergies

As the skirt dropped to the floor the matching panties to the cream bra appeared. They hugged the woman's full hips. The mound where her thighs met was lifted by a thick tuft of hair underneath. As Samantha hooked the elastic and peeled the satin underwear down the white hips, that hair blossomed over the top edge. Looking up she saw Dora was looking a bit embarrassed.

"What?" she asked stopping with the woman's underwear at her knees.

"Sorry I'm not trimmed up. I wasn't expecting anyone to see me down there." She bit the corner of her lip. "In fact if you don't..."

"Hush, my Sister. There is nothing here I don't like."

As her hands finished their work removing the panties, Samantha leaned her head in and let her cheek caress the wiry hair. Strong, earthy scents half hidden by perfume came to her nose then, heightening her arousal more every second. Dora stepped her feet out of her panties and opened her legs a little.

"I'm sorry if..."

"Hush," Sam told her again softly. Turning her head she placed a kiss into those thick curls. Then a second one lower, then lower still. Her lips slid past but did not touch the valley at the top. The thick outer lips pressed into her mouth as she kissed them. A hand against the back of her head and strong fingers in her hair told Sam just how badly Dora wanted this. The low moan from her told Samantha just how badly Dora needed this.

But it was the wet feeling between her own legs that told Samantha just how much "she" had missed doing this herself.

The feel of another woman awakening under her mouth, under her kisses, under her tongue. Oh, how much the sound of that deep moan turned Sam on as she ran her tongue between Dora's lips. With her nose pushing against where the older woman's clit was, Sam let her tongue explore places that had once been so very familiar to it. Like visiting with old friends it licked and led her mouth to places to nibble and suck upon.

The moans from Dora grew from soft pleadings to deeper sighs of contented pleasure as Sam let her mouth work to find the perfect harmony. She found it, then fine tuned this woman connected to her by her tongue in ways that she had not done for another woman in years.

Her hands were not idle either. That plump backside had drawn them and she kneaded the warm flesh under her fingers. Cupping the bottom of Dora's cheeks tightly, then ever so slowly she let the tips of her fingers dip between those soft cheeks to caress the deeper valley. The damp heat there drew her fingers down till Dora let out a startled squeak when Sam's fingertip brushed a circle of wrinkles.

Bringing a hand around to Dora's inner thigh she slid her fingers up across those wet lips she was still licking, then moving it down plunged her fingers up into the incredible heat of the older woman.

"Oh Hannah," Dora moaned softly, her finger pulling the younger woman's hair making Sam drive her face deeper into those wet, open lips. "That feels so good."

Hearing her sister's name caused Samantha to pause for a second. When she started back she licked around her own fingers, then back up till her tongue brushed the older woman's clit. Her mind was racing down a dozen dark pathways now.

"Oh god, what have I done?" she asked herself silently as she licked "Hannah will never be able to pull this off with this woman. She doesn't know about the sorority Sisterhood, or about anything to do with this. Has she ever even gone down on a woman?"

Not that Sam was ashamed of this, or of what she had done while at the college. She loved every memory from those years, but she had never shared them with her twin sister. Her twin had always been the hell raiser, the black-sheep party-child of the family. That Samantha had let that part of her own self loose, while away at college, had never been known to anyone who wasn't a Sister of Lambda Omega Lambda.

A sudden deep moan and a shuddering of damp thighs against her chin brought Sam's thoughts back to the woman she was devouring. Then when those fingers in her hair tightened to almost painful levels Sam moved her mouth fully to the woman's now thickened clit. Pulling it into her mouth she sucked hard on it like a pin stuck finger.

"Oh my Lord yes!" screamed out Dora as her orgasm overwhelmed her. Sam felt Dora lean forward, all but wrapping herself around the younger woman's head as her body shook and she trembled through spasm after spasm. "Oh please Hannah, please... Oh Lord yes!"

Smiling against those wet slick lips, Samantha nuzzled her nose into the woman, gathering up as much of the passion scent as she could. Sam knew that after this she would not be going back to the few, less than fulfilling, men that she had dated since leaving the college. Nor would she return to the daily grind of her freelancing job that had eaten up so much of her social life of late.

Samantha placed a kiss, just a kiss, on the outer lips. This simple kiss brought a gasping moan from Dora as Sam leaned back and looking at those rosy, wet, passion engorged lips and decided that there was going to have to be a lot more women in her future. Sam looked up at her "Sister" and smiled to see that the woman was still cumming. Her eyes were closed and she was leaned back into the frosted glass door. Her chest was heaving, those plump breast straining that cream bra to its limits with every breath.

Dora's eyes opened and she looked down at the younger face looking up at her. She licked her lips at the shiny juices she saw dripping from Samantha's chin, to land in dark spots on the younger "Sister's" blouse.

With a desire to taste a woman again so strong in her she could hardly stand on her shaky legs Dora drew Sam up to her feet and, with her mouth glued to the younger woman, she pushed her towards the broad desk. Spinning her by her shoulder she leaned Sam over her desk and all but drove her hand under the skirt and between the younger woman's thighs. The panties she touched were sopping wet under her fingers. Dora pushed them aside and plunged her fingers into that wet heat.

Sam groaned as she felt her slightly sore pussy suddenly stuffed with three long fingers. Then she felt that cool metal sisterhood ring pass by her outer lips. In what had to be the fastest orgasm of her life Samantha clawed at the edge of the desk under her. Her face, buried in a stack of cost reports, showed her passion as she let loose a deep moan over which she had no control. It was dragged up from her core and out her throat to ring off every nerve in both herself and in Dora.

The guttural scream of the younger woman as she went over the edge drove Dora to her own third orgasm. She clenched her thighs tight on herself, as she twined her fingers together inside the younger woman's sopping wet lips. They clenched around those fingers, the inner muscles tightening and loosening in a way that was so very erotic. She held Samantha down and did not relent in her fingering until she heard a second then a much softer third moan from the younger woman.

As Samantha lay across the desk panting she did not see Dora pull her fingers out and bring them to her mouth. She did not get to watch the older woman sucking them clean. By the time Sam got her breath back and stood up Dora was already starting to put back on her clothes. Her eyes in soft focus she shared a smile with her sorority "Sister."

"Well Hannah, I hate to make you eat and run," she smiled, then chuckled at her own humor as she nervously unlocked the door. "But I have got to get a few of the things I needed to do today and didn't finished done before I leave. I will see you bright and early tomorrow."

Samantha nodded, suddenly very aware of the lie she was standing in the middle of. That it would not be her but Hannah that would be here in the morning sent a rush of panicked energy through her nerves.

"I need to go too. Thank you for the job, and... I'll see you tomorrow." Sam's voice was almost that of a strangers to her own ears. "I'll be here."

When Dora stopped her and kissed her by the door, Sam hoped the older "Sister" didn't taste the lie on her tongue.

Hannah paced nervously in her tiny apartment. What the hell was taking so long? Finally at nearly 7 o'clock her phone buzzed with a text from Sam.

Well, you got the job! You start tomorrow at 8. But we need to talk. I am coming over.

Hannah jumped with joy. Things were finally looking up for her! She danced around her apartment with her long hair tossing about like blonde fireworks. Then she grabbed her phone and rushed off a text to Sam.

u rok!!! owe u big time!! meet at bembe. buy u a drink!!!!

Hannah dashed to her closet and pulled out her favorite Hervé Léger dress. It had bands of color fading from a vibrant red at the hemline to a subtle mauve at the bust. More importantly, it clung to her curves like a coat of paint. She'd had to deliver a lot of stinking sandwiches to save up for it, but when there was something to celebrate -- like not delivering stinking sandwiches anymore -- Hannah preferred to do it looking like a rock star.

Hannah tossed her phone into a tiny, sequined handbag, strapped on her highest pair of heels, and rushed out the door. In her excitement, she failed to notice the battery of her phone had been jarred loose when it hit the inside of her purse.

She hopped out of her silver Civic at Club Bembe, startled to see the sidewalk out front empty except for a short, bald guy in a black t-shirt spraying down the concrete with a garden hose. "Where is everybody?" she wondered out loud.

"Club don't open tonight," he cocked an eyebrow at her. "It's fuckin' Wednesday, ya know?"

"Oh, shit that's right," Hannah stamped her foot petulantly. "What am I going to do now?"

"Hey, if you wanna party, maybe you an me can work somethin' out? Eh?"

"No, thanks," Hannah scurried off as quickly as her stiletto heels would allow. She had already met her quota of creepy assholes for the week. Where else could she go? She felt like dancing and drinking champagne and getting fondled by men in gaudy, designer shirts who could buy expensive champagne. Was that too much to ask?

She rounded a corner and saw a little, local pub down the block. It looked cozy and quiet and lame generally. There was no velvet rope and no bouncers, but they did have music and possibly a couple bottles of champagne. Maybe. Way in the back somewhere.

Jerry's Pub, which is what the little place was called, was just as lame as Hannah had feared. There were a handful of people casually talking around a few tables. There was a long, narrow bar along one wall with an old guy perched at the end. He may have been asleep. It did, however, have a juke box and she headed straight for it. It was one of the electronic kind with a live internet feed, which meant she might actually be able to find some good dance music.

"Hey, I'm Tony," a guy in a plaid shirt approached Hannah while she poked at the touchscreen of the music box. He was actually kind of cute, she found when she turned to look at him. His short, dark hair was just a little scruffy and he had about three days growth of beard. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure thing, Tony," Hannah grinned. "Have they got any champagne?"

"Uhh, I'll check," Tony rushed back to the bar and Hannah turned back to flipping through the list of songs. When she looked back, Tony was still at the bar talking to a middle aged bartender with a steel-gray crew cut. Possibly it was Jerry himself. Jerry was laughing and shaking his head.

"He says he can serve you a beer in a long-stem glass," Tony offered sheepishly when he returned.

"Okay," Hannah shrugged. It was better than nothing.

True to his word, Tony returned with a long-stemmed champagne glass filled with golden, yellow liquid. Hannah sipped it daintily. It was actually not bad. She certainly felt like a celebration was going on. Now she just needed some better music. "Hey, gimme a dollar," she instructed Tony. "For the juke box."

"I've only got a five."

"No problem," Hannah snatched the bill from his hand and turned back to the touchscreen. "I'll just find four more songs."

"Oh, okay," Tony took a deep draw from his beer bottle and tried to check out Hannah's ass without staring. He did not succeed. "So I've never seen you in here before."

"I've never been in here before," Hannah agreed. She fed Tony's bill into the machine. "Oh, I'm Hannah, by the way."

"Hannah. That's a really pretty name."

"Yeah, I guess," she took a gulp from her beer flute.

"So," Tony continued awkwardly. "What brings you in here this evening."

"Well," at that moment the lame song that had been playing since Hannah walked into the bar faded out. Her first selection, Dr. Crunch, started blaring out of the pub's loudspeakers. She grabbed Tony's hand and pulled him toward an open area in front of the juke box. "I'm here to dance!"

At first, Tony was reluctant to participate in any dancing. He pointed out, correctly, that no-one ever danced at Jerry's Pub. They did not actually have a dance floor, but rather an open area where the pool table had been before it malfunctioned and was sold to the local rec center. Hannah didn't present any particular counter argument, but rather proceeded to grind her body suggestively against him in time to the music. Tony discovered an enthusiasm for dancing he didn't know he had.

In fact, several other bar patrons decided to join in as well. As the night wore on the regular crowd shuffled out and the bar filled with a more energetic clientele. The makeshift dance floor became quite crowded and Hannah kept the hard-driving dance tunes queued up on the juke box. Anytime she stepped aside to catch her breath someone put a drink in her hand. There was beer, mixed drinks, and shots in a rainbow of different colors and flavors. All of them paid for by eager admirers who hoped to take home the wild girl in the skin-tight dress. As it was, she never opened her purse once the whole evening.

By the time midnight rolled around, Hannah had ground her ass into six different crotches. She had been groped not less than ten times and had been licked twice. She had even received a marriage proposal shouted over the thundering bass of the music. In short, it was a respectable showing. But she wasn't done celebrating just yet.

Hannah woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and only a vague idea of where she was or how she got there. She was in a bed. She recognized Tony from the bar lying in bed next to her, snoring softly. She needed to know what time it was, that much she knew. Tony had an arm draped over her, so she slid sideways and let his arm fall gently to the mattress. Her dress was inside-out and draped over a chair. She inspected it carefully and then put it on. Her purse was fortunately on the same chair, which was a relief. Her panties and her bra were nowhere to be seen, but that was no great loss.

"Oh fuck," she mumbled to herself when she realized the phone was dead. She reinstalled the battery and waited impatiently while the phone went through its start-up procedure. Finally the time displayed -- it was half past seven. That was not good! She wasn't sure why, but that was not good.

Then a stream of text messages, missed calls, and voice mail alerts lit up her phone. Her sister, Sam, had been flooding her last night. Then she remembered! The job!

"Oh fuck," she mumbled. She grabbed her shoes and rushed out the door. Thank god her old silver Civic not only cranked but knew the way as Hannah's focus was on touching up her makeup first, going through her messages from Sam second, and driving third. Her sister seemed to be all worked up about getting Hannah ready for this job. That was Sam -- always worrying too much. How much do you have to know to be an intern? When somebody asks for coffee you bring them coffee. It wasn't rocket surgery.

The first person she saw when she rushed through the frosted glass doors on the stroke of eight was, predictably, Storage Closet Greg. Or maybe it was Storage Closet Craig. Whatever his name was, his eyes opened as wide as saucers when he saw Hannah striding through the lobby. He hopped out of his seat and rushed to her side.

"Good morning, Ms. Winston," he fawned. His attitude had sure improved, Hannah reflected. The right outfit had that effect on people. People in chicken hats get no respect, but you put on a five-hundred dollar dress, some stiletto heels, and it's a different story. "Can I show you to your office?"

"Thanks, that's nice of you. Wait," Hannah's spirits sagged. Was she going to have to suck him off every day now?. "Let me guess -- the storage closet? My office. Ha. That's clever."

"No! No, I didn't mean that. Not at all," he blurted. "Speaking of the other day -- I want to apologize. I am so sorry. I've been going through a tough time lately. I am really not like that. I swear!"

"Yeah, it's not cool. Not cool at all. You can't just leave a girl hanging," Hannah looked at him seriously. "If you need to go downtown to finish the job, then that's what you gotta do. You know what I mean?"

"Uhhh..."

"Hey, I'm just saying, fair is fair."

"Right. Definitely. So your office is just this way." Craig led her through an open area with several desks and work tables. Up and down the aisles people were busy frowning at computer screens, talking into telephones, and having quiet conversations among themselves. As Hannah and Craig walked past, they all seemed to drop what they were doing and watch. Hannah reveled in the attention. She stood up a little straighter and put a little extra swing in her hips.

"Woah, nice office!" she exclaimed. She had followed Greg into a spacious corner office. There were windows on three sides -- two walls had lovely views of the city and the third looked out on the work area. The fourth wall was hung with a few works of modern art that fit with the simple but funky style of the furniture. Hannah loved it immediately. She dashed to the window to take in the view. Then she noticed a rack of clothes in the corner and nearly squealed with pleasure.

"Coffee, Ms. Winston?" a short woman in her mid-forties stood waiting in the doorway. With some reluctance, Hannah turned away from the rack of clothes. This place was amazing! She was determined not to get fired for at least six months this time. It wouldn't be easy, but she would force herself to do a good job.

"Absolutely," Hannah turned attentively to the older woman. "Just tell me where the coffee pot is and I will zip right off and get a cup."

"Oh, don't worry about that," the woman smiled in a motherly way. "I'll be happy to fetch it for you. How do you take it, Ms. Winston?"

"Um. I'm not sure," Hannah narrowed her eyes at the woman. Was this some kind of trick question? "How do you take it?"

"Well, I very much enjoy the caramel espresso with whole milk," she offered. "It's delightful."

"Ooo, that does sound good," Hannah agreed.

"Excellent," the woman turned and scurried off. Hannah shrugged and turned back to the rack of clothes. There were some really cute things here! Maybe she would be able to sneak back later and try some of them on.

"Well, I'll let you get settled in," Greg said as he edged toward the door. "Again my deepest, deepest apologies."

"Wait," Hannah exclaimed. "Where do I sit?"

"Right here," he spread his hands. "This is your office." Hannah rushed to the door to chase after him. Craig was trying to pull something, she just knew it. Whoever this office really belonged to would show up, find Hannah in here, and chew her ass out. She was nearly out the door when the woman with the coffee reappeared.

"Here you go, dear," she handed Hannah a steaming cup.

"Is this for me?" Hannah asked in surprise. The small woman nodded. Hannah took a tentative sip of the hot liquid. "Oh my god! This is delicious! Thank you so much."