The Girl Who Came In From The Cold

Author's Note: I would classify this story as half romance, half sex, with an emphasis on the mental dance that happens before, well, the horizontal dance. Feedback is always welcome.

****

Anne lay nude on the bed, her $150 haircut mussed beyond repair. Her legs were spread obscenely wide, forced open by the young blonde who knelt between them. There were fingers caressing inside her, fingers caressing her clitoris, even fingers gently pressing and stroking her anus.

She flexed her buttocks, trying to generate more contact. "Please," she panted, "just a little faster. Finish me off." Her hands gripped her breasts, fingers locked on her nipples, twisting and pulling to give herself more stimulation. Sweat glistened on her skin.

The blonde girl smiled. "I think we can keep you going a little while longer," Christina said. "Let's make this last."

Anne moaned in both pleasure and frustration.

***

It had been 24 hours since Anne had met Christina.

She was halfway through dinner when the girl rapped on the diner window. The young woman waved heartily, her fingers invisible in her mittens and her cheeks red with cold. Anne's eyes followed her, perplexed, as she hustled toward the door, entered, and stamped the snow off her feet. A biting wind blew in alongside her, rustling the papers on the community bulletin board.

Waving off the waitress, she pointed in Anne's direction. The girl wore a puffy down coat that was as white as the snow, and skinny black jeans that implied a trim figure underneath. She pulled down the hood as she approached, shaking free a short mane of barely blonde hair. She was a cute young thing, adorable in a nymph sort of way, and if there had been a man in the place he would have instantly fallen in love with her.

"How are you?" the girl chirped enthusiastically. She closed in with a hug and an air kiss before Anne could react, then slid into the booth across from her.

"Uh, I don't think – "

The girl didn't pause. "I didn't think I was going to make it! I got caught up at the store, and there was a darling dress that I just had to try on." As the waitress came over, she smiled widely. "Just a glass of water for me, please. I'll look at the menu in a moment."

She and Anne made eye contact. The girl had shockingly beautiful hazel eyes, the kind that made one's heart skip a beat when they made contact. They silently pleaded with her as the waitress departed.

"I don't think we know each other," Anne said flatly. She had no intention of being used.

The girl took off her mittens and flexed her fingers. Leaning forward, she spoke softly and swiftly with worry in her eyes. "Please. I just need to get out of the cold for a little while. I'm an artist. I'll draw a portrait of you if you'll just let me sit here for a few minutes and warm up."

Anne frowned. The girl wasn't a panhandler, but she was close. She exhaled and glanced outside. It was pitch dark and dropping toward zero degrees. And she admittedly was strangely swayed by the girl's attractiveness. Biting against her better judgment, she didn't immediately reject the plea. "You don't have a place to go?"

The girl's head shake was barely visible, and she looked like she was about to cry.

Anne eyed the waitress returning, then looked at the girl. She was perhaps 19 or 20 years old, her eyes bright and her skin smooth. She didn't look like she was trouble, but how could one tell?

The waitress set the water down. "Do you need a few minutes?" she asked.

"Yes, please." The girl picked up the menu. The waitress studied her, then exchanged glances with Anne. Anne shrugged and nodded, and the woman stepped away.

Thank you, the girl silently mouthed.

****

Anne tried to reach between her legs. She couldn't stand it any more. She would have to finish this herself, setting aside all dignity.

Leveraged between her legs, Christina grabbed her wrist and pulled it away

"No touching," the blonde said, her fingers still stroking Anne's G spot. "As punishment, put your arms above your head. No more touching your boobs."

Anne groaned in frustration, but obeyed. Why was she obeying? She was 15 years older. This was her hotel room. She was the one with the money and the power.

But she knew the answer. She raised her arms over her head and gripped the headboard. It felt so frustrating, and yet it felt so good.

The blonde smiled warmly at her obedience, and Anne had to smile back. Christina was young and thin, perhaps even skinny. She was naked too, her breasts small but well shaped and prominent on her slender chest. They were topped by long erect nipples and bright pink areolae the size of bottle caps. Her short ash blonde hair was straight with a slight inward curl, wrapping over her ears, and she had to periodically tuck it back over her ears. Her hands danced between Anne's legs, massaging her clitoris, running through her trimmed rectangle of chestnut pubic hair, stroking her lips, thighs, ass. Anne hadn't orgasmed yet, and it was already the best sex she'd ever had. She squirmed in need.

"You're so good at this," she gasped. "How did you get so good?"

"Practice," Christina grinned. "Constant practice."

****

The blonde looked over her shoulder at the waitress, then back at Anne. "Just let me get my fingers warmed up, and I'll draw a portrait of you."

Anne reluctantly picked up her fork. "So you don't have a place to stay? No friends or family?"

The girl shook her head. "Long story. I got left at a gas station a couple of days ago, and all my stuff was in the car." She smiled wanly. "I guess we broke up."

"Seriously?" Anne's ears pricked up. The girl didn't know it, but she had hit a nerve. Anne had a sympathetic ear for stories of women being wronged.

"Yeah. At least I had my backpack." She gestured toward the small daypack next to her. "It had my drawing stuff in it. The first day I earned enough money to get a hotel, but I didn't get it the last night and of course no one was out today." She nodded toward the weather, then offered her hand. "I'm Christina, by the way."

Anne warily lowered her guard. "I'm Anne. Oh, your hands are ice cold."

"I was able to stay in the library all day, but they closed at six." Christina flexed her fingers, which were slowly regaining a pinkness. "I'm really sorry for this."

"Don't worry about it. I'm eating alone. I guess I don't mind having a little company."

"Just let me know when you want me to leave. But I really will draw you a picture."

Christina pulled an artist's pad from her backpack, along with a packet of colored pencils. "Do you live here?" she asked as she began organizing them.

"No. I'm here on a business trip. Just a few days."

"I was supposed to be just passing through. I got blindsided. But as long as I have my stuff I can earn a little money. There's an Amtrak that comes through and it's not that expensive, so with some luck I can get out of here in a few days." Christina shrugged off her coat. Underneath, she wore a form-fitting black sweater that accentuated small pert breasts and a waspish waist that was possible only with youth. Anne's eyebrows rose in silent approval.

As Anne ate, Christina drew, and the two women made small talk. After several days on the road alone, Anne actually found the conversation pleasant. When the waitress returned, Christina asked for another glass of water. "I've actually just eaten," she said, handing the menu back. The waitress shrugged and left.

Pursing her lips, Anne relented. "Do you have any money?"

For the first time, the façade of bravery broke. Christina's lower lip quivered, and she wiped away a tear. "Today was a rough day," she said. Anne's gaze locked with her glistening eyes before she turned back to her drawing.

The older woman sighed. "Order some food. I'll trade it for whatever you're drawing."

She could tell that the younger woman was conflicted, and for a moment Anne thought she was going to break down. A dozen emotions ran across her face, before she finally said, "Thank you very much. I'm so sorry. I'll pay you back. But I'm so hungry right now."

Anne flagged down the waitress yet again. The woman glanced at the artist's pad, which Anne couldn't see, then looked at Anne with a bemused expression as if comparing. "Yes?"

"I think she is going to have something after all." Christina ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, a small side salad, and Anne forced her to order more. The young woman was so adorable, so sweet, that Anne found herself wanting to take care of her, protect her. How could a man desert a girl like this on the side of the road?

Anne broached the question. "You said that you got left at a gas station. What happened?"

Christina spoke while drawing. "Just a fight. A stupid fight."

"Men can be jerks."

Christina shifted uncomfortably, and took a moment to answer. "Yeah. Um...women can be, too."

"Oh. I thought you implied it was a lover's quarrel." Anne uttered the words, then saw the look of unease on Christina's face and realized her error. "Ohhhhh."

"Are you going to kick me out?"

"No, no, not at all. I'm sorry for my assumption." Anne looked at Christina with new eyes. This cute young thing was a lesbian?

****

Anne's hips levitated off the bed, yearning for that final push. "Unnnngh", she grunted through clenched teeth. It was so exquisite, so exasperating. Christina was keeping her right on the edge of orgasm, but not letting her pass.

"Your breasts are so beautiful. I love how big they are. Do you want to touch them again?"

Anne released her hands from the headboard, grabbing two handfuls of her own flesh. She too loved their size, and she was quite proud of them even if she tended to hide them in her style choices. She circled her large areolae, pushed her breasts together, then began working on her nipples again. Anything to get closer to that elusive orgasm.

"I can tell that you're turned on," Christina chuckled softly. Her thighs had forced Anne's apart to an extreme degree, and she sat directly at Anne's cleft, working her teasingly and persistently. "Are you ready to cum now?"

"Oh, god, yes. Please, yes."

"Get ready. I'll put a third finger in."

Christina's hands continued to ply Anne's most personal areas. Was she that skilled, or were all women naturally good at this? Anne had no experience to guess, but she knew that she'd never had better attention. She gasped and squirmed under the blonde's labors.

Christina shifted slightly. "Ready?" she asked. "Let me take you over the edge."

Her slender fingers increased their pace and pressure simultaneously. She worked Anne's slick clit directly, no longer teasing it. The fingers inside Anne's pussy, already filling and stretching her, began vigorously rubbing her in just the right spot. Anne brought her hands up to her head, grasping her hair in ecstasy, squeezing her elbows together to compress her ample breasts.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh," she rasped, trying her best not to raise her voice past the walls of the room. Her stomach clenched, her hips rising. She froze to maximize the vigorous attentions of her suitor. "That's it! Here it comes! Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!"

It took a full sixty seconds to work through the orgasm, sixty seconds of mindblowing spasms, and Christina played her perfectly. In the end, Anne collapsed exhausted into the sheets, breathing heavily with the exertion of ecstasy while Christina smiled contentedly above her.

"Am I good at this?" she asked teasingly once Anne began to recover.

Anne couldn't talk for a moment. "That was fantastic," she uttered at last. "That was the best orgasm I've ever had." Slowly recovering her senses, she gazed up at the slim blonde, studying her slender frame and youthful breasts. They were so adorable, so beautiful.

She had never done anything like this before. She had never accepted the attentions of another woman, and she had certainly never offered them. But this was an opportunity that couldn't be missed. Shyly, she asked for the world. "Can I touch you now?"

****

Christina ate quickly. "This is heavenly," she said appreciatively. "All I had today was water."

Anne had made the transition now from skepticism to worry. "Can you not call your parents or family? It seems like they could send you money."

Christina grimaced. "I'm sure I could," she said. "But I can't. I just can't." She shook her head emphatically, her short hair bouncing around her ears.

"Why not?"

Christina searched for an answer. "Well," she said at last. "It's just pride, I guess. They disapproved of my relationship with Erin, and I guess they were right. But if I call them ..."

Anne smiled sympathetically. "I understand completely. I had to eat a lot of crow with my family about my ex-husband. Was Erin the person who left you here?"

"Yeah." Christina started to say more, but bit her tongue. Having finished her food, she picked up her art pad again and began sketching.

Anne gave her a moment, then pushed. "This must be scary for you."

Christina stopped sketching, her eyes staring through the paper. She looked back up at Anne, her eyes glistening. "Why would she do this to me?" she asked.

Anne fought an urge to hug the girl. "You'll be fine," she comforted. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

Christina's laugh surprised Anne, sudden and sad and wise. "The whole thing was stupid," she said, her pitch rising and her voice accelerating. "She was my art teacher. She's twenty-five years older than me. It just kind of happened and she was terrible for me, but at the same time she was so amazing. I think maybe she was manic because one day she could make me fall in love with her and the next day she would destroy me. And I loved it and I hated it, and I loved her and I hated her. But she made life so exciting. Do you know what I'm talking about?" Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Anne nodded, remembering her own tumultuous marriage and everything that destroyed it. "Actually, I do."

Christina let the tears flow. "And then she left me here! Just drove away! We were moving to Memphis together! What am I going to do!"

There was nothing to say. Anne bade the girl to put the artist's pad down and took her hands, gently rubbing her thumbs on the back of them. She let Christina cry it out.

When the girl calmed down, Anne offered some words of experience. "Honey, it's hard now. But you'll be better off for it. I swear."

Christina sniffled. "If I survive."

Anne looked at the young woman before her. If she was a man, she would fall in love with this sweet young thing. She wanted to embrace her, to protect her from the cruelties of the world. The tears only made her more endearing. "You'll survive," she said.

Christina sniffled, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand in a very unladylike manner. Anne smiled, and Christina saw her and smiled back, blushing. "Let me finish my drawing of you," she said.

The talk became simpler, more shallow as the young woman drew, erased, and shaded, her eyes alternating between Anne and the paper. The waitress refilled their waters and looked over Christina's shoulder. Her eyebrows arched and she smiled with amusement. She again compared back and forth to Anne, piquing her interest.

Finally Christina looked at the paper and nodded. "I think it's ready. Want to see it?"

Anne nodded enthusiastically, quite curious even as she told herself not to expect much.

Christina turned the pad around, and Anne's jaw dropped.

The portrait was beautiful. It was a work of art. Anne's features were expertly rendered, simultaneously accurate and idealized. It was clearly her in the picture, but a more perfect form of her. Anne objectively knew that she was attractive because she'd heard it all her life, but she had the self-doubts that any women feels. Somehow, the drawing captured all of her finest features and polished the rest. Christina had given her an angelic expression and Anne nearly cried when she noticed the faint glowing halo above her head.

Wordless, her throat too tight to talk, she motioned for the paper. Christina handed it to her.

In the harsh light of the diner she studied it, every pencil mark, every shading, every nuance. She lightly ran her finger over a rough spot in the paper, and realized that it was a dried teardrop. "This is amazing," she choked out at long last.

This girl saw her as a beautiful woman.

"Thank you."

Anne took another moment to think. "May I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why am I nude?"

Christina had drawn Anne as she sat at the table, but with one key difference. In the drawing, she was nude, or at least topless. No wonder the waitress had smiled.

Christina smiled shyly. "I hope that wasn't bad. But I like drawing boobs and I can't draw clothes."

Anne laughed genuinely and deeply, the first time she had laughed with such amusement since the divorce.

"Sometimes the simplest answer is the right one," she replied.

She looked outside. It was a frigid night, and the snow was increasing. The sign of her hotel was lit up in the distance.

Why was she scared to say this? It was nothing but a gesture of kindness, right? She took a deep breath. "You need a place to stay. Come and stay in my hotel room tonight."

****

Christina laid back on the bed, stretching her back and arching her small breasts up. "Come play with me," she purred, her eyes half-closed in sensual relaxation.

Now it was Anne's turn to be the explorer. She gazed upon Christina's body, so white and pure and beautiful. Moving in, she straddled the reclining girl's waist and sat atop her. Christina playfully reached up and played with Anne's thick nipples.

Anne was too shy to immediately return the favor. Instead, she ran her hands lightly up and down Christina's slender arms, delighting in their softness. Even with the girl's skinniness, she had the softest skin that Anne had ever felt on another person. But then again, she'd never felt a woman in this manner. Her past experiences were all with men, hard and strong and hairy. Christina was just the opposite, and she was fascinating.

Her hands moved further up to Christina's shoulders, then traced the line of her collarbone. Christina released Anne's nipples and lay back, her eyes closed and her narrow pink lips curled in pleasure. Anne stroked up her throat, then her jawline, and finally ran a finger across those luscious lips. Christina's lips parted, showing perfect white teeth and just the tip of a glistening tongue. Anne moved up further, gently caressing the blonde's earlobes. Her hands slid behind Christina's head, and suddenly she was bending down, resting atop the slim blonde, their lips locking into a long, romantic kiss. Their tongues intertwined, their breasts crushed against each other, and she was so warm and soft.

Anne felt as if she could cum again, just from the embrace. But after a long, passionate kiss she rose again. There was too much to explore.

She looked at Christina's breasts. Being a young woman, they were firm and rose straight up from her chest with no support. Much smaller than Anne's mature D cups, they were still filling out, but were nonetheless round and firm. Anne slowly worked toward them, stroking Christina's jaw, her throat, her collarbone. Could she do this? Could she actually touch another woman's breasts?

Christina exhaled a moan. "Oh, yes, I love that. That's wonderful."

They were much firmer than Anne's own breasts, spongy to the touch. Christina's nipples were erect, thinner than Anne's but just as long or even longer. They were a beautiful coral pink, and Anne played with them until Christina finally bade her release. "Move down," she breathed. "You're about to make me cum just from my boobs."

Anne licked her lips and girded her courage. She scooted down until she knelt between the blonde's long legs, and the girl accommodated her by spreading them wide. Anne's nostrils flared at the sight, her heart pounding in her chest.