Speak Low When You Speak Love

"Oh no!" The words escaped and no one seemed to notice. Susan had moved on. She kept walking but it was useless to try to be spiritual, so she didn't try.

"They want us to be 'mindful'. Well right now I am mindful of the feeling of my thighs rubbing against each other with every step, and the dampness between them, and the way my breath tightens when I see Susan across the circle, and my nipples hurt, and my tongue hurts. I just keep wanting, wanting. After a while she didn't try to stop it. She just let the feeling come, and it filled her. A simple thing, like the sun and the small breeze and even the feel of the path were making gentle love to her. She could feel it deep inside her and she held it there and it was thick and warm and only fluttered a little when Susan glanced at her now and again across the circle."

After the labyrinth they all filed off to the dining hall to eat in silence. She deliberately did not sit opposite Susan at the long, low plank tables where they sat cross-legged on cushions and ate the vegetarian fare with their fingers as the people of India do.

The food was simple and good: thin pieces of chapati to scoop up the rice with a mild curry of peas, chickpeas, bits of potato, and a mysterious green vegetable that was a bit bitter. They ate slowly in almost complete silence.

Emily felt a communion with these other women of many ages. Her heightened feelings made her more aware of their bodies than otherwise, perhaps. An older woman with thick, full breasts resting low on her chest, fat nipples pushing at the thin fabric of her simple white blouse. Another woman, Indian, with a generous mouth and ample lips made shiny by the slick ghee in the food. A very young woman with large dark soulful eyes. A lean man with grey ponytail and firm lips.

One by one, without imagining specific scenarios, she felt she was making love with each person in the hall, quietly, slowly, spending all the time in the world touching an earlobe, brushing her lips across a vein pulsing in a neck, rippling her fingers through curly hair.

Susan was seated several people down the table on the opposite site, gazing across at the far wall as they had been taught to do. But her fingers lifted to her mouth with a fold of chapati and she placed it carefully between her lips. Then she carefully sucked every finger on her hand. And Emily knew that it was no accident that she placed each finger deep in her mouth and closing her lips, pulled it out slowly and then licked the tip. Emily felt her womb churn and her breath catch.
"You bitch." She barely shaped the words silently, but from the tiny smile on Susan's lips, she knew Susan knew.

There was silent walking meditation on the great lawn under the stars that night. Only a sickle of a moon; so they walked almost in darkness; the glow of the great hall highlighting a cheek, a bare arm, the flutter of a skirt. Emily felt a bit like a child playing Simon Says as the leader led them in a large curve around the lawn. Where was Susan? Emily couldn't find her and she felt a great sense of loss. Ridiculous, they had not been close over the years since college. But they wrote each other. Actual letters. Sharing hopes and dreams and a little TMI about boyfriends, suitors, hookups, fiancés. But they had rarely met in the flesh; not even connecting on FaceTime much. Birthdays and stuff. Until Susan had suggested this 'twelfth anniversary' retreat.

Still. What was it?

As the line of slow moving figures looped across the damp lawn in the dark Emily finally caught sight of Susan at the tail end, yawning. Yes, it had been a long day with not much action. Emily's belly churned. No action except for a brief "lunch" by the creek. In her mind's eye Emily imagined herself breaking hard out of the slow parade and racing across the dark lawn to Susan; dragging her to some dark corner where she covered her with kisses and let her hands dance all over her body.

"No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a closet lesbian just waiting to switch sides. I like the feel of my guy, his hairiness, his strong arms, his curvy dick. This is just, just, maybe some kind of schoolgirl fantasy. Yeah, that's it. All this 'opening' and 'letting it flow' is just kind of like allowing sensual feelings into this 'other' place. Yea, that's it. It's not the first time I have imagined being with a woman while I did myself. Whew. That's all it is.

"Getting in touch with my body.

"Getting closer to a good friend I haven't been with in years.

"Enjoying this liberating experience with lots of like-minded women.

"Having a little adventure."

So in the last meditation in the pavilion she had no trouble sitting right next to her new BF and just letting her feelings go. Some kind of chanting music mixed with sounds of wind and waves. Just a touch of the chirp of tree frogs from outside the pavilion. Frogs. Snakes. She could almost feel her hands and Susan's side by side on the muscular twisting body of a snake. A chill up her spine. Warmth in her groin.

She peeked over at Susan. Her friend was sitting in fine meditative posture, her eyes half closed, her breathing deep and regular. But every so often she emitted a tiny moan, her mouth barely open. She was rocking, just a tiny bit. Emily tried to keep her eyes on the mandala in the front of the room; but she couldn't help peeking from the corner of her eye from time to time. Anyone else might have seen and heard nothing, but Emily was pretty sure Susan's breath was becoming more irregular. A fine sheen of dew on her upper lip. Her nostrils definitely stretched a bit wider.

Emily tried to maintain her own concentration, keeping her hands in the lotus pose, her knees wide, her ass firmly planted on her cushion. Breathe in, breathe out. But she found herself matching Susan's breathing beside her. It was a little too fast. It excited rather than calmed her. And somehow, though neither of them seemed to have moved, she felt her knee pressing against Susan's. A low-level charge that went right up her leg to 'there'.
She tried to keep her meditative concentration without much success. It was crazy. She wanted to be chaste and spiritual, but that didn't work. She kept imagining Susan's wet body by the side of the creek, her tight nipples peeking through the wet fabric.

So, no Susan thoughts. How about her own lover, Darwin? She tried to meditate on Darwin's curvy cock the last time she had sucked it, with its shiny café au lait head. It didn't help. But she couldn't think of anything non-sexual. She was 'mindful' of every twitch, sweet contraction inside; the way her butt was pressing into the cushion, the way Susan seemed to be kissing her with her knee; and she knew all she had to do was move it away; and she knew she never would, and in fact pressed hers a little tighter and definitely could feel Susan rocking, rocking. And the music, which was supposed to be soothing and spiritual was soft, sensual, sexy.

The music stopped. The chimes were sounded and everyone rose in silence, bowing to each other with the Indian prayer hands, picking up mats and cushions. Just as she was about to leave, Susan leaned into the back of her neck and whispered.

"I can't stop thinking about your big nipples."

Then she picked up her stuff and headed for their dorm room. Emily could only stand while a surge of warmth lifted from her toes to her face.

They shared the room with six other women. Four sets of bunk beds. Susan took the top and she the bottom. The bathroom was down the hall with dressing stalls. They all cleaned up and brushed teeth and such in silence with only a bit of giggling. Susan was ignoring her. Susan in beautiful linen pajamas with a watermark of bamboo. At home Emily might have slept in the nude but here she wore her big loose cotton "shirt" that reached to her knees.

By the time she washed up—she almost took a second shower, she was so hot—picked out her hair and smoothed in some moisturizer, and got back to the room, Susan was up in the bunk with her back to the room. Emily placed her hand lightly on Susan's shoulder. Susan touch her hand with her own, but she didn't turn around.

It had been a big day and Emily should have fallen asleep immediately. But she didn't. Everything that had happened was churning in her head. Old visions of hanging out with Susan in college. Were there any 'lezzy' vibes then? Okay, over the years she had used more than one of Susan's letters to get off, but that was because they wrote about their guys or fantasies of guys with all the nuts and balls. Planning this trip, was there any hint that either one of them wanted 'more'? She couldn't think of anything she had said. And yet ... and yet what had happened seem to flow so naturally from everything else. Touching. Kissing. It just felt ... right. And she did want more.

Emily realized she had been letting her hands roam quietly over her body. Her nipples ached. She thought of Susan's whisper about them and they ached more. They just so badly needed a hot mouth on them, right now. She wished she had the courage to get up and stand next to the upper bunk, her chest pressed against it, lifting her breasts so they lay on the thin mattress. Then she would gently tap Susan on the shoulder; see her sleepy face turn around and spot the thick, purple nipple held out to her; seeing Susan's sweet lips move toward it and gobble it like a baby, massaging it with her tongue.

Emily almost cried out. She dared not do that, though the other women all seemed to be sleeping, and they would probably mind their own business. But she needed release. So she reached for the tube of lip balm she always kept under her pillow. So often she woke with dry lips. And sometimes, sometimes like now, she applied that beeswax and shea butter to those other lips that were also a little too dry, that begged for moisture. This she did now, biting back the groan as her clit thanked her. Being generous. (Sometimes, in public, it gave her a hot little twinge to apply the balm to her mouth right in front of Mr. and Mrs. America, knowing that it had caressed her hidden lips earlier.)

Tonight she almost didn't need it. Her puss had a head start and the slickness just needed to be tickled out. But she was determined to be almost totally silent. Slowly, firmly, she let two fingers circle her clit, already stiff and ready.

Her ass bounced off the bed.

"Easy, girl, easy. Just let the warmth build. Feel it deep inside. Use the breathing. Squeeze and pull, squeeze and pull. Yes. It's coming along now."

A vision of Susan's hips in that wet grey skirt, that dark fur barely visible through the damp fabric. Just inches above her outstretched hand barely touching the springs of Susan's mattress above. She tightened her thighs against each other with two fingers clamped between. Her clit was so swollen and firm. She traced tiny circles on it again and again and the fire built inside her. Her butt was so tight, pushing her mound upward. She cried out, but only in her mind.

"Oh, take it. Please take it. I need to feel you touch me. Oh, please!"

She tried to hold still, moving only her fingers. She tried to keep her breath low and quiet. It was so hard. Her belly was so tight she was almost in pain; such a good pain; but she needed to moan. She bit her lip hard and held it in. It was coming. It was coming big and she wasn't able to stop it. She never wanted to stop it. She wanted it to swallow her up like a hot wind. She wanted to feel the heat flaming up and then drain out of her.

"No, not yet ...no ... oh yes. Oh yes! Here it was. Now!"

And as the fingers of her free hand stretched up toward Susan, Susan's pale hand dropped over the side of the bed and clasped hers, oh so tightly.

She came. Completely and yet quietly; sending that flow of fire up through her fingers and feeling it connect and bloom in those fingers above in a silent mating, a fierce-gentle tug of war, pure energy, pure love.

Did she dream it? The beautiful chime for morning meditation rang very early. It wasn't dark, but it was not yet dawn. Sleepy women doing the simple tasks of preparing themselves for the day. But there was no jockeying for the mirror to put on makeup or secretly checking out each others fashion choices. No sense that she was a woman apart because of her darker complexion. A number of women with bodies of all shapes walked naked. These women were all shades and they clearly didn't care. Hair left to fall naturally or pulled back in a simple band. Loose clothes that ignored vanity. And silence. So no one spoke of clothes or kids or men.

Susan gave her a small warm smile as they washed their faces. But no hint that they had a secret. Two close, very close friends. Without a word they walked together to the meditation hall and sat side by side, not touching but not apart. Emily was aware of Susan's body, a slight aura of heat, the way her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed; the sweet curve of her braless chest under her off-white linen blouse. It was strange and wonderful. She felt she was embracing Susan without even touching her.

A dozen, two dozen times she resisted the temptation to whisper, "Let's get out of here." To drag Susan off to their secret place by the river and disappear into unbridled kisses. Never worrying about what was right or wrong but just following the feeling until it created its soft explosions. But she didn't do it. She didn't dare move.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Yoga lift

After a simple breakfast of green tea and fruit, eaten in silence facing the rising sun they explored the big poster of events of the day. Emily had assumed that they would do some sort of yoga class; either plain hatha yoga or maybe hot yoga. But she personally was not in the mood to get all sweaty.

Well, maybe ....

Something calm and relaxing would be better, wouldn't it? Keep her heart from rushing like it kept doing. She scanned the offerings. What about —?

Susan was standing beside her and placed one slim finger on Partner Yoga. Hmm. That would be delightfully tough. From what Emily knew of it, they would be doing poses or asanas that balanced against each other. But she didn't know what they were. She had never done them before. She imagined that the instructor would tell them; would demonstrate with a partner; would help them.

She smiled at Susan and that's where they went.

Two yogis, Ashok and Shanti had them warm up with a few sun salutes side by side. It was funny how Emily and Susan managed to match rhythms even though they were quite different shapes. Susan so slim as she reached to the sky and bent back; Emily knowing she was showing off the strong curves of her breasts and thighs. Butts in the air on the downward dog. She smiled at Susan under the arch of her own body; made a face and stuck out her tongue.

The first one they did together was like sitting in lotus position and holding hands. That was easy. Except that she kept meeting Susan's eyes, seeing that oh so subtle smile and feeling twinges in her 'nether regions'. Well, maybe Susan was getting wet, too. Then they did a 'holding one foot behind the butt and standing on one leg' thing while they clasped hands high in the air. As her fingers twined with Susan's she remembered the electric clasp the night before and her cheeks grew hot.

The hardest one looked so simple when the instructor did it with her partner. Balanced on their butts in kind of a V shape with feet high in the air, they had to press the soles of their feet together while they held hands. It took some fumbling and falling over and tangling and laughing until they got it. And then she didn't want to stop. Magically, Susan's slim feet balanced hers perfectly. Energy charged between their soles. Maybe they were supposed to hold perfectly still; but Emily could feel Susan's toes wiggling against her own.

They had to stop. But while most rested in the final resting pose, the instructor challenged a few brave couples to do a yoga lift. Most who tried were men with women. The idea was to lift the partner with your feet. Susan gave her an impish smile and raised her eyebrows. Emily shrugged. Why not?

She imitated the male instructor and lay down on the mat. Susan stood at her feet. At first they just watched while Ashok, lying on his back, placed the soles of his feet against Shanti's belly just inside her hip bones. Then he took her hands as she leaned forward over him; pulling her up onto his feet as he raised them over his body. Shanti 'flew' above him.

It took them several tries to get it right. Memories of Baby in Dirty Dancing. It took a bit of doing to get her heels just right above Susan's strong thighs next to her hip bones and then pull her forward and lift at the some time. Once, Susan stumbled and slipped off, falling into Emily's arms. It would have been great to stay like that, especially since one of Susan's dancer's thighs was pressing nicely just there. But they tried and tried again. And got it. There was Susan, in the Supergirl pose, balanced on Emily's feet and hands. Big smile.

Then Ashok let Shanti's bend at the waist until her chest lay against his thighs with her head in his crotch. Emily made a face and shook her head. Susan did the same. Not that one.

But Emily had an Idea. Slowly she bent her legs and arms, lowering Susan down toward her. This was hard, but she managed it. Susan's face was just above hers. So she bent down and gave Emily a gentle kiss and for a few eternal seconds the tips of their tongues mingled. Emily was so ready to let Susan slide down into her arms again. The insides of her thighs ached to wrap around her friend; to feel her firm body rocking against her hot tender parts. With some effort, Emily elevated Susan again, and tilted her back to the floor again. It was impossible to look her in the eyes.

So they rested side by side on one mat, close, tired and filled with light.

Then they were hungry.

Let me feed you

A big tent had been pitched on the outside lawn for lunch, but not everyone seemed to be going in it. There was a little placard next to the entrance that said, "Couple sharing meal". A couple sat on a little dais at the end of the tent with a low table between them. A beautiful "path" of fabric lined with bright yellow marigolds stretched from them to the entrance and couples were seating themselves opposite each other along the path.

Emily glanced at Susan, who grabbed her hand and pulled her into the tent. They were not the only same sex couple. In fact, there were quite a few, two gay guys to their left, a pair of older women several seats down. Everyone was silent, of course, but the energy in the room was strong. Emily didn't know what to expect. What was significant about couples eating together?

She sat cross-legged opposite Susan, imitating the others in the room. It was very peaceful. A woman all in white with a white turban played languid music on an Indian instrument. It was a little sad, like the blues, but also deeply spiritual. A mealtime worship service?

When everyone was seated, some of the curtains of the tent were drawn closed so that it became a more intimate scene. Waiters, all in white, appeared from nowhere with simple plates holding a single chapati, something like a tortilla. A lone plate was placed between each couple. On the dais, the man, seated on the left, made a sweeping gesture over the people seated along his side of the flowered path, some were men and some were women. Then he turned to his partner and placed his hands in the praying position and bowed his head. His partner did the same. They looked to see that the people in the hall copied this gesture of respect.

Next, the man took the chapati and tore it in two and then tore it again until he had a bite-sized piece. He extended this to his partner who leaned forward and took the morsel from the tips of his fingers into her mouth. He sat quietly as she chewed and swallowed her portion. Everyone in the hall imitated his action.