Moira

"Fuck," squeezed out Moira from her parched throat. She felt a white-hot ball of pleasure spreading all over her and converting her entire body into a large erogenous zone. Every bit of her skin stippled in anticipation.

There was a lull within the storm. Moira squinted to see the woman holding four fingers at the entrance of her sopping orifice. Their eyes met for an imperceptible moment before she thrust all four fingers into her. She screamed incoherently as she felt her ravaged pussy clamp down. The fingers met her G-spot, sparking an inferno within her. A tidal wave of pleasure washed over her. The room went dark before exploding in a psychedelic whirl of colours. Moira slipped over the edge of insanity into delirium and back again.

Moira had felt nothing like it before. Her entire being was swept high up in the clouds. She felt the calming nirvana of orgasm settle within her. Her heart beat at twice the normal rate and she could not feel her extremities because of the sheer magnitude of her orgasm. She simply lay supine, gasping for breath and waiting for her body to climb back down from the euphoric high.

The woman smiled, her face covered in Moira's liquid arousal. She began to lick any remnants of the arousal dangling off her trimmed thatch. Moira stirred and moaned in a low voice, too spent after her earth-shattering climax to move a muscle.

Moira felt her lover clamber up for a kiss. They admired each other's sweaty visage, gleaming in the moonlight. They kissed softly, tenderly dancing with each other's tongue. Moira tasted herself through her lover and relished her tangy flavour. The woman broke the kiss and straddled her. Her lips moved gently from Moira's face down to her voluptuous bosom. Her lips ensconced her nipples one at a time and gently toyed with them.

"Mmmm... delicious." she said appreciatively, taking turns on each protruding bead. She raised her head and brought her fingers down to the nipples. She took one of them between her thumb and forefinger before tweaking it gently.

Moira smiled sleepily. She tried to muster the energy to sit up and kiss her lover, but flopped back on the mattress.

"Della Kasendorf."

"I'm sorry, what?" asked her lover, furrowing her brow curiously.

"You wanted to know who was the first girl I was intimate with," she said. "Her name's Della Kasendorf."

The woman stopped her manipulation of Moira's nipples and brought her head down to her chin to listen. Moira's gaze was obscurely fixed at the night outside the skylight when she began. Each syllable came slowly, with a lot of pain behind it.

"She lived down the street from me back when I was a teen. She was an artist and spent most of her time in her studio. She was always somewhat reclusive and also taught art to some local kids. By and large, she kept to herself."

The woman rolled off Moira and sat on the carpet, listening on intently.

"All the families had something to say about her -- how she would wear something outrageous while shopping for groceries, or how she refused to go to church and so on. My sister and I were told explicitly to stay away from her."

She paused to collect some memories while her lover went off in search of her next smoke. She came back and sat down beside her, holding a freshly opened pack.

"I liked walking alone in the park. It was a confusing time for me, trying to come to terms with the fact that I was attracted to girls. Walking on my own gave me some perspective, some clarity.

"One of those days, I saw Della standing on a raised clearing with her canvas. She looked so calm and at peace with herself, I had to stop and stare. She was painting a cityscape from her vantage point. I walked to her, to see her more closely. She did not notice until I was very close and then she smiled at me.

"We became friends that evening. Every once in a while, I would discreetly meet her at a coffee shop where my parents wouldn't know. Della knew a lot about art and artists and was truly fascinating to talk to. She even offered to draw a portrait of me in her studio. After some cajoling, I agreed. It was only when I went that I realized it was a nude portrait. An overwhelming part of me wanted to run out."

"But you stayed," said the other woman, letting out rings of smoke from her lips.

"I can't explain it. She had a way with words and gestures. I have mentally replayed that conversation about a thousand times, and not once have I been able to refuse her offer. It was as if she knew me and my complications better than I did."

"Artists have a sense for the real person behind a façade," the woman mused.

"After a good hour of me posing awkwardly, Della showed me her work. It looked me, but different. So much more sensual and graceful. The face was incomplete, there was no mouth. I asked her about it and she said she would not draw my mouth until I smiled. Then, she wrapped her arms around my naked body and kissed me gently on the lips before whispering softly in my ear -- "You are not alone."

"How did she know?" the woman asked, tapping her cigarette ashes into a tray.

"I don't know for sure, but she watched me return from school every day. We talked regularly and she may have picked up some hints from that. I'll probably never know. All I know was that she was the first one who told me it was not a sin to be gay. You can probably imagine what happened next."

"I'll try my best," smiled the woman. "So what happened to Della?"

"What happens to people born ahead of their time?" Moira spat out. "One day, it came out that she was having an affair with a married woman. New York was a lot less tolerant back in the day. The community as a whole, prominently including my father, came up with a whole lot of bogus charges against her. Prostitution, lewd and lascivious behaviour and a load of other stuff. The law enforcement and judiciary were surprisingly sympathetic and she was given an ultimatum of 'fixing herself' or facing prosecution."

The other woman didn't say anything, simply looked away. Moira could feel the beginnings of dampness in her eyes as she went on. Her voice had broken down to a dispirited whisper, punctuated by the occasional sob.

"Della had to go for court ordered conversion therapy. She went to one of those barbaric camps where they electrocuted her brain while showing her lesbian porn and flooded her with pleasure inducing drugs while showing her straight porn. I know because at first we had secret letters. The letters became less frequent, until finally they stopped altogether."

"One year later, Della was discharged with a certificate saying she was 'cured'. She looked like a shell of her former self. Her face was perpetually hollow and she never smiled. To further her ideal of being straight, she even began dating a guy from her apartment building."

Moira stopped because her throat was choked on a sob. She let out a flood of tears before finishing in a trembling voice, punctuating every word with a sob.

"Two months after her release, Della Kasendorf jumped off the roof of her building. She had no family, friends or funeral to remember her. There was a simple ceremony and she was put to rest. Soon enough, her plain tombstone was carved with the words 'lesbian whore'."

"I'm so sorry," said the woman quietly, staring at Moira's face. Every tear shimmered in the silvery glow of the moon on their path down her cheek.

"The one thing I'll always wonder is why she didn't sell me out? What better way to get back at the community than by showing the daughter of one of their most respected members to be a godless sinner just like her. If she wanted, she could have given a fitting riposte to my father, but she chose not to. All the time she suffered, she didn't speak a word about our time together."

"She wanted better for you than she got," the woman said. "It was an incredibly brave thing to do."

"And I let all that be in vain by embracing the same values that destroyed her," Moira said softly. "I couldn't be as brave for myself as she was for me. What does that make me?"

The woman brought her hand down and gently stroked Moira's hair, letting every brown strand through her fingers. Her tears had pooled beside her face, whitened by the moonlit night.

"It makes you human."

She picked Moira's limp form off the floor and kissed away every teardrop left on her face. They were very close now, close enough to see their reflections of the other's eye. So close that their hearts beat as one. She held Moira in her arms and for the first time, Moira let out the helpless girl trapped inside her and did something exceptionally brave.

Moira Malone - wife of one, mother of two, role model of many, held her face in a stranger's bosom and cried till her eyes hurt.

* *

"What are you looking for?" Moira asked earnestly, waiting for whatever her lover conjured up next. The woman rummaged inside her drawers for a few minutes before emerging with a devilish grin on her face and a purple dildo in her hand. Moira's eyes widened when it started vibrating in her hand.

"Now part those pretty legs and let's give this thing a tryout," said the woman, slurping along the side of her toy.

Moira was momentarily distracted by her phone ringing. She leaned over and picked it up from the dresser.

"Anybody important?" the woman asked, holding the tip of the buzzing instrument inches above the sopping pussy.

"It's my husband," she said, about to swipe the call shut.

"Go on, answer it," the woman prodded. "I guess he wants to make sure you're safe."

"Are you serious?" Moira asked, becoming even more puzzled at the subsequent nod. Curiously, she put the phone to her ear.

"Hey, hon," she began warily. "How is everything upstate?"

"It's great, just getting tired of saying the same thing over and over again. I have to speak at a charity dinner later," said the voice over the phone. "How's your friend doing?"

"Lizzie is doing well," Moira said calmly. "We're having a great time catching up. A few more girls from college showed up too. Did you..."

Her conversation was rudely interrupted by the feeling of six inches of vibrating plastic entering her. She looked up, alarmed, to see the other woman grinning.

"What was that, dear?" asked her husband.

"I said," Moira squeezed out with some effort. "Did you... talk... to the kids... today?"

"I called Catherine an hour ago and got a chance to talk to Shawn," he said in a concerned voice. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't sound okay."

"I'm fine, dear," she desperately reassured, even as the dildo slowly slid out of her before going back in. The woman methodically moved it back and forth until it finally brushed her G spot, making her stifle a scream.

"What was that?" asked her husband. "Honey, are you sure you're all right? I could come over to Mercy in a few hours if you want."

"Seriously, I'm fine," said Moira through gritted teeth. "Gotta go now. Lizzie is being wheeled back from her latest test. I'll talk to you soon. Take care."

"You too, Moira."

The call dropped and she glared at her mischievous lover who laughed and threw her hair back behind her head.

"Stay right how you are, dear," said the woman, accentuating the 'dear' comically. "I'll be back in a moment."

Moira waited patiently, every bead of sweat plastered on her forehead glinting eerily in the moonlight. Her mind was tingling with anticipation. She looked up on hearing footfalls approaching and her eyes beheld the sight of the same dildo that had invaded her previously, now mounted on a strap-on harness.

"Turn around and stick that lovely ass out for me," the woman said, lewdly stroking her proxy cock. "I'm going to give you the thrill of your life."

With some trepidation, Moira complied. The woman took a long moment to admire her posterior. Even at her age, it still looked delectable. She ran her fingers into the plump, malleable flesh. Moira groaned while her ass cheeks were kneaded and rubbed against each other.

"You're going to remember this as long as you live," the woman went on, sinking her fingers into the supple skin. "I'm going to spoil you. Your husband will never fuck you like this. Whenever you sleep with another woman, or your husband, or even when you masturbate, this is what's going to flash before your eyes."

She sent her palm crashing across both cheeks with one hard smack. Moira yelped. The very next instant, she felt pairs of fingers parting her wet folds.

"So ready," whispered the woman before driving the vibrating phallus entirely into Moira in one stroke. She gasped and moaned. The woman placed her hands on her hips and began rocking her hips back and forth. Moira's tight, velvet walls clamped around the dildo.

Leaving her hips to oscillate back and forth, the other woman reached to the bed to get her opened pack. Without missing a beat, she lit up a new cigarette and began smoking. Her hips moved in a leisurely rhythm, driving the cock in and out of Moira.

"Faster, please," Moira squeezed out.

The woman took her free hand down on Moira's back to hold her in place. Her knees locked and she waited in anticipation of the unknown. The speed of the thrusts suddenly ratcheted up. Her pale bottom rippled every time the woman's pelvis slammed into it.

"Fuck," Moira wailed. Every stroke spurred her to greater heights of pleasure. The pleasure was feeding on itself, growing and morphing into an insatiable vortex before her.

Moira blinked. She felt her orgasm hanging just out of reach. Higher and higher she felt her body pushed by the relentless motion of the fake penis driving into her innermost depths. She felt a molten heat all the way to her core.

"Now let's really fuck you."

She couldn't believe anybody could go faster, but she was surprised. The strokes hammered into her pussy, plunging deep into her. She pushed back, impaling herself on the vibrator. Her eyes bugged out of her head and she felt herself covered in sweat. She opened her mouth to let out a hoarse scream.

The climax was other-worldly. Moira felt herself lifted to a state of nothingness. She floated on a cloud of bliss, her body still in the throes of orgasm. She saw lightning and fire dance before her eyes before everything exploded into vivid colour and went dark. Her senses went into overload keeping up with the explosion of pleasure coursing through her. She faded.

Her lover watched with pleasure as Moira writhed and twitched weakly on the bed, her body too spent to do any more. Cum gushed out of her and flooded the bedsheet.

"Do you know how we could have some more fun?" said a distant voice. Moira shook off her grogginess to register that more fun was even possible. She weakly lifted her head to see the woman walk to her cabinet and return with a bottle of tequila. Slowly, seductively, she poured a shot glass worth on her torso and abdomen, lying flat on the carpet.

"Knock yourself out gorgeous," she said, lighting yet another smoke. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Inconceivably, Moira found the strength to crawl over for the first body shot of her life. The first of many as it turned out.

* *

The sunlight was warm, oppressively so. Moira stirred and squinted at the brightness staring her in the face. Eventually, she woke up on a lush carpet, in a lavish apartment she did not immediately recognize with bright sunlight filtering in from above.

It took about a moment for her to get her bearings right. The sleepy haze passed all at once and memories of the night came streaming back. She took a few minutes to fully realize what she had been a part of. Shot glasses, empty bottles of tequila and her clothes strewn haphazardly confirmed that it wasn't a dream. Her lover was nowhere insight.

Carefully, she picked up her trail of clothes and put them on. She walked to an adjacent room to find the new object of her affections sitting at her laptop with tousled hair and her trademark cigarette.

"Hey, there," said Moira softly. "What are you doing?"

"Come here and look." The woman waved her over. Moira went and was surprised to find the woman putting the finishing touches to a slideshow.

"When did you take these?" she asked, surprised to see herself between her flame's legs.

"I have a camera in my living room. It takes a picture every fifteen minutes." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I like to keep some memories."

Moira knew she should be worried about being in such lewd photos, but her mind was still in a zone where nothing could go wrong. She leaned forward and kissed her swain, inhaling the smell of nicotine.

"I think I should get going now," Moira said. "My kids and husband might start worrying."

"Give me a few seconds and I'll drop you off at Grand Central."

"Is there any chance we could do this again?" Moira asked meekly. "I'm sorry if I seem too clingy, but I can't stop thinking about last night. You made me feel better than I have ever felt, physically and emotionally."

The woman looked at her pointedly before saying. "There is a reason why I go to lesbian bars. I'm not really into the idea of a long relationship. Trust me, it's better for me to stay that way."

"How can you say that?" Moira insisted. "I felt so connected to you. So close."

"If you say so," said the woman. "Seriously, let's not try and work on something that doesn't exist. You had a nice time. I had a nice time. Let's quit while we're ahead, Moira."

Moira digested the words sadly. Her dream was over before it could take flight. Something about that sentence piqued her curiosity.

"How did you know my name?" she asked. "I don't remember telling you."

The woman looked at her with an expression of surprise before smiling lop-sidedly. Moira took a step closer and asked.

"Did you look through my purse or my phone?"

"Nope, I didn't look through anything. I just knew."

"What does that mean?" asked Moira, unable to make any sense of it.

"I'll let you know, but first, how about I introduce myself too?" said the woman, stubbing out her latest cigarette. "It's hardly fair that only one of us knows about the other."

She stood up and tucked her hair behind her ear. Moira sat down on the nearest chair.

"My name is Heather Franklin," she began. "I'm a lawyer. You may not have heard of me yet, but you will soon. I understand that the police interviewed you as a witness in connection with the murder of Vincent Cardoza?"

Moira nodded listlessly, feeling a growing sense of dread pooling in her stomach. Heather paused and pursed her lips before continuing.

"You gave a statement that you saw a black Cadillac Escalade come out of the alley. Now, maybe it wasn't black. It was almost night time and the alley wasn't well it. Moreover you only got a second to see it all, and you were probably too scared to be attentive."

"What... are you saying?" asked Moira beginning to tremble.

"What I'm saying is, when the DA puts you up on the stand, you had better be unsure about the colour," said Heather in a chillingly calm voice. "If not, then all these pictures on my cloud server might just find their way into the inboxes of all your husband's parishioners. I might send them to everyone at your children's school too."

She waited a few moments for her threat to sink in. Moira looked like she had been punched in the gut, driving all the air from her lungs. Heather saw everything about her lover turn on its head in five minutes.

"Why?" stuttered Moira.

"It's my job." Heather shrugged. "I represent some very influential people who give me the license to do whatever it takes to keep them out of jail."

Moira felt her knees shaking. Her brain was reeling from the latest bit of information. Blood pounded in her ears until it was impossible to hear anything else.

"You chose the wrong shoulder to cry on, Moira."