The Rescuer

Jasmine was more like her name than her parents could ever have imagined. Something about her, perhaps her stillness, made her seem like a dainty flower perched among the leaves. She was a small, slight creature with the palest skin and most delicate features, framed by rich brown hair and eyes. If one looked at her, one could see she was very beautiful, without question. And yet so few people seemed to look at her. To herself she seemed so small that she was unnoticeable. People always seemed to be looking over or under or past her. She felt she was a wallflower, fading into the background.

Unfortunately, this was definitely not the case. Jasmine was noticed, as was her slightness. One snippy winter night on her way home for the weekend, Jasmine was pushed into an alley by an unseen body. She found herself facing two men in balaclavas, and she felt the presence of one behind her. They drew nearer, looming over her ominously, their intentions unmistakable. She turned, trying to work out which one meant to grab her. One did, and she began to scream. Loud and indiscriminate noise issued from her mouth, trying to reach compassionate ears as brutal hands were finding their way under her clothes. Clouds of vapour billowed from their mouths as they breathed on her. Something hard and cold met with her eye, she suspected a pipe as the blood filled half her vision. She felt a shoe slip off her foot as she kicked and flailed uselessly above the ground. She heard fabric tearing, she had no idea where or what, just that it sounded horrifying. And then she heard a sickening crunch, which she somehow knew was a fist breaking a face. But it wasn't hers. She felt herself being dropped and she landed hard on the concrete. She looked around and saw one captor's face down beside her, and in front of her stood someone; a someone who was standing between her and the other two.

The two men seemed tentative but stood their ground. The someone protecting her started toward them and they flinched.

"Please leave."

It was the unmistakable burr of a woman. Jasmine leaned a little to see the men better. Their breath still puffed out in a haze.

"Fuck you!" spat one as he skipped in toward her. The woman jabbed her fist at his nose, and it seemed immediately to explode with blood.

"Shit!" he spluttered as he stumbled back, "Go on Jack! At her!"

The last one hesitantly started toward the woman and she started at him. He swung and she ducked and threw a fast fist into his ribcage. A sickening heave issued from his mouth.

"Please leave, or I will kill you."

The men scurried away like frightened animals, leaving their unconscious friend.

The woman sighed, shook her head and turned around. She bent down to Jasmine and gently lifted her to her feet, "The hospital's just around the corner."

As Jasmine slowly and somewhat shakily walked from the consult room to the waiting room holding her top together, she spied on her rescuer. The woman was sitting in the bustling waiting room, in profile to the corridor. She was tearing a paper cup and looking curiously about herself at all the people. She had flame red hair, cut in a fashionably boyish way so that her fringe sat just above her brow and electrified her blue eyes. Her slouch made her look defeated, but Jasmine could tell she had a strong body, the kind that was constantly worked on. Her abdomen was showing a little below her motorcycle jacket and above her jeans, showing some clear muscle definition. And, Jasmine reasoned, one doesn't know instinctively how to make a person's face explode like that.

The woman caught sight of Jasmine and rose from her seat. Jasmine realised that she was quite tall, probably about 5'8'' to her 5'5''.

"How many?" Asked the rescuer.

"Eight." Jasmine replied, touching her finger to the dressing on her eyebrow.

The woman squinted in sympathy. "Well... better to have them than not."

"Yes."

"Well," She said, turning toward the door, "My car's back the way we came."

"Um," Jasmine started, not moving. The woman froze.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The woman said meekly, "I mean if you want I'll give you a lift... I... you don't have to, I was just..."

"No, no, I mean, yes... thankyou, but... You saved my life and I don't even know your name." Jasmine replied.

"Oh. I'm Lizzie, Lizzie Mercer," said the woman, extending a hand.

"I'm Jasmine Satch," she replied smiling, taking the hand, "Thanks for saving my life."

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier," Lizzie said quietly, avoiding Jasmine's eye. For a moment they just stood there awkwardly, still vaguely shaking hands. Lizzie retrieved hers first, and broke the silence. "Come on, my car's not far."

Lizzie walked Jasmine out of the hospital and down the street she'd been walking before the attack. She got a little shaky, a little skittish. Lizzie put a hand on Jasmine's elbow and gently urged her on. They passed the alley where they'd had the altercation, and Jasmine noticed it was empty.

"The police came," Lizzie stated, catching Jasmine's look, "But they'd all gone."

Jasmine smiled with all the gratitude she could muster. Lizzie nodded her acknowledgement.

As Lizzie turned off the engine outside Jasmine's apartment block, she looked at Jasmine seriously, "I can stay... if you want."

Jasmine was sorely tempted to say yes. She could still feel hands moving on her body, and she really didn't want to be alone. She would eventually have to be on her own, she thought. So she decided to suck it up and be alone. "No," Jasmine smiled, "I'll be fine. I couldn't do that to you. Besides, I don't even know you. You don't even know me."

Lizzie inspected Jasmine's face, trying to see if she really was alright, Jasmine figured.

"Alright. But," she said as she pulled a pen from her pocket and wrote something on Jasmine's hand, "You call me if you need anything, Ok?"

Jasmine looked at the number scribbled on the back of her hand. It was somehow comforting.

"Thanks. And thankyou... again... for saving me. I don't know what I would have done. I don't know what would have happened-"

Lizzie nodded her comprehension, "If you need anything, call me."

Jasmine shut the car door and hoped she was making the right decision.

She traipsed into her bedroom and began peeling off her bedraggled clothing. She wanted desperately to have a shower, but the doctor had told her to wait until morning. Yet she didn't want to sleep in her bed with this experience still on her body. She found some old pyjama bottoms and a tank top she felt happy to throw out, and put them on. She took to her sofa rather than her bed, and wrapped herself in a thick blanket, staving off the shivering. She heard a car pull away in the silence.

Her own screams tore her from her sleep as she struggled to extricate herself from her blanket. She was somehow entangled in it, shivering and drenched in sweat. She had been dreaming of the attack, brutish hands on her body. She fought free of the blanket and clambered to her feet and sent herself to the bathroom, fighting to regain control of her breathing. She splashed cold water on her face rubbed it hard.

"It's over," she said to her reflection, "It's over."

Jasmine returned to her sofa and sat down. She was exhausted, but she couldn't put her head down. She feared closing her eyes. She looked at her left hand. The number was a little smudged, but it was still there. Jasmine did want to ring it... very much. She had become aware of the emptiness of the apartment; the shadowy corners of it were now threatening. She decided she could resist the temptation. She was stronger than that. She was a big girl, and she could pull through this. She wilfully put her head down and shut her eyes. Within moments they flew open again. The images were beating against her eyelids, and it didn't seem that she could keep them shut. She fell off the couch and began to cry as she realised she could not do this alone. She wiped her face on the blanket and picked up her phone.

The doorbell rang about ten minutes later. Jasmine went to answer, doing her best to conceal the fact that she'd been crying. But when she opened the door and saw Lizzie, she somehow completely collapsed and began to bawl. Lizzie frowned and put her arm around her, shutting the door behind them. Jasmine completely fell into Lizzie's arms, unable to control her emotions. They suddenly came flooding out. Lizzie made soft cooing noises, trying to calm Jasmine. She sat Jasmine down on her lap on the sofa and drew the blanket round her. Jasmine's head was buried in Lizzie's shoulder, her chest shuddering and heaving with the terrible effort of crying. Lizzie held Jasmine gently, and Jasmine clutched at her jacket, waiting for the fear to subside.

Jasmine awoke to the foreign smell of something cooking in her apartment. She opened her eyes and found she was lying on the sofa under her blanket, and listening to something sizzling and someone humming. She stretched a little and got to her feet to make her way to the kitchen. Lizzie was making pancakes. She saw one jump out of the pan and fall on its other side.

"Good morning," Lizzie said warmly as she lifted the pan off the stove, "I made breakfast."

Jasmine stared. The table was set properly with a pile of pancakes in the middle, and the kitchen smelled inviting for once. She hardly ever cooked. There was maple syrup and lemon and sugar and ice cream, and a sunflower beamed on her window sill. She never bought flowers.

"You're upset," Lizzie said, misinterpreting Jasmine's shock response, "I'm sorry. I thought you might like—"

"No... I do.... No, it's... I just never... Thankyou."

Lizzie seemed to relax a little and put the last pancake on the plate. She turned the stove off and pulled a chair out for Jasmine.

"Why?" Jasmine asked, feeling completely irrational tears well.

"Why what?" asked Lizzie, frowning in confusion.

"Why have you done all of this? You've already done so much for me..."

"You need it. Sit down."

Jasmine followed instructions and sat down.

"Tuck in," Lizzie said as she sat down herself.

They ate all of the pancakes, and Jasmine felt significantly better for it. Lizzie said it was a happy food, and Jasmine tended to agree. She had the shower she was desperate for, and found the hot water was very cleansing to her body and her spirit. It recovered her somehow, in ways nothing else could. Not even pancakes.

She climbed out of the shower and inspected the wound on her brow. It looked nasty, but certainly better than yesterday. Not so huge and swollen. She put on jeans and a t-shirt and brushed her teeth, and now felt much more human. But she was still very glad that she could hear Lizzie moving around in her kitchen. Jasmine came back to the kitchen to find Lizzie stacking her rarely-used dishwasher.

"I've got a new dressing and some anti-septic for your cut," Lizzie said. She reached into her jacket and retrieved a bottle and some cotton buds. "Hop up on the bench and I'll put them on."

Jasmine jumped onto the bench as Lizzie took off her jacket and came up in front of her, opening the bottle. She carefully dipped the cotton bud in the pungent anti-septic. It smelled like hospital.

"This might sting."

It did sting, quite a bit, enough for Jasmine to realise how deep the cut was. She tried to keep her mind off the pain. She looked at Lizzie's face. She was concentrating on Jasmine's cut, and her bright blue eyes were electric as ever. Jasmine noticed that Lizzie looked a lot like a statue of Artemis she had seen long ago. She had the same strong and yet soft face. Her body had the same Grecian proportions about it. As Lizzie shut the antiseptic, their eyes met. Jasmine felt a rush of emotion plunge through her body. She couldn't stop herself. She planted her lips on Lizzie's.

For a moment they were completely motionless, just connected by mouth. Jasmine pulled away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly, "I don't know what came over me."

Lizzie ran a hand forward over her own hair and it landed on Jasmine's thigh. "I think you're still upset from last night." She said quietly, "Why don't we go out? Take your mind off things?"

Lizzie took Jasmine for a long drive to the countryside, where they visited a big old mansion with open gardens. They had lunch in the fancy haute cuisine restaurant that had been implanted there, and went for a long walk in the nearby town and the hills. They talked, not much, but it wasn't awkward. Lizzie didn't seem like much of a talker, Jasmine had already picked up on this. It was nice though. Even if Lizzie wasn't very talkative, she was kind, and Jasmine felt safe with her.

But there was more to it than that. Jasmine was feeling less and less of the pain of her attack, and more and more of that rush of emotion she'd felt in the kitchen. Every time Lizzie fixed her with those eyes, she felt something. She supposed it was the stirring so often spoken about in romance novels. It was a stirring; it was very stirring, so much so that she could barely think about anything else. It was like nearly tripping over, that kick in the gut, every time Lizzie looked at her.

But she'd never felt that way about a woman. She wasn't that way inclined. And yet she was so drawn to Lizzie it was hard to keep her heartbeat in check. What was happening? She felt drowsy and unfocused, and she desperately wanted to be somewhere private.

"Let's go home," Jasmine said quietly as they walked up the main street of the town.

"Is something wrong?" Lizzie asked with concern.

"No, I just want to be... home again."

Jasmine spent most of the ride home looking across at Lizzie, trying to be subtle about it. She wanted desperately to simply reach across the drive-train and kiss Lizzie, only softly, but enough to make her know.

After an excruciating journey, Lizzie pulled up to Jasmine's apartment block.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Lizzie asked seriously and shyly. Those blue eyes fixed on Jasmine again, and she could think of very little.

"I would like that... I mean, if it's not too much trouble."

Lizzie pulled herself out of the car and followed Jasmine up the stairs. As she entered the apartment and removed her jacket, Lizzie said, "I'll be on the couch if you need me."

"No," Jasmine replied before she had time to think about the craziness, "Don't sleep on the couch. Sleep in my bed. With me." Jasmine felt herself being stupid and she heard herself telling herself she was stupid. "I mean, there's no reason for you to be uncomfortable. The bed is big enough for both of us."

Lizzie looked at her. "Are you sure?" She asked dubiously.

Jasmine struggled to say the right thing, the convincing thing. "I think that I... need you... close to me."

Lizzie followed Jasmine into the bedroom. The bed was still unmade.

"Make yourself at home," Said Jasmine as she disappeared into her wardrobe to change. She heard the sounds of Lizzie getting undressed, and she wondered just how undressed she would be, and felt a hot tingle between her legs and that kick in her stomach. But she tried to focus herself on what she herself would wear. Nothing too slovenly, but nothing that looked like she'd tried. She eventually found an old but tight t-shirt and grinned at it. She slipped it on along with a fresh pair of panties, and hoped deliriously.

When she returned to her bedroom, she found Lizzie in the bed with her arms folded awkwardly on her stomach. Her black tank top was showing over the blanket. Not as undressed as she was hoping for. Jasmine turned off the lights and slid quietly in between the crisp, cold sheets. She wriggled and shivered.

"Cold?" Lizzie whispered.

"A little."

Lizzie wriggled closer. Jasmine felt Lizzie's body meld to her own. She felt her long legs bending to her own, and the swelling of breasts against her back. Another rush flooded her and she felt a rush of wetness between her legs. Lizzie snaked an arm around Jasmine's waist. Jasmine's nipples cried out for Lizzie to touch them. She could feel Lizzie's breath on her neck.

"Better?"

"Yes," Whispered Jasmine. She was extremely aware of Lizzie's hand on her stomach, and was willing it to move down, or up... somewhere, anywhere.

"Are you alright?" Lizzie whispered, concern creeping into her voice again.

"Yes, why?"

"Your breathing has gone shallow."

"Has it?"

"Yes. Relax," Lizzie cooed, "You're safe." Lizzie pulled Jasmine a little closer. She couldn't hold out any more. With a groan Jasmine grabbed Lizzie's hand with both of hers and pushed it between her legs. She rubbed her clothed mound against the palm of Lizzie's hand and teased one of her nipples with her own.

"Jasmine..." Lizzie began worriedly.

"Please," Jasmine pleaded, "I need you to touch me."

"I think you're still..."

"It has nothing to do with that. Please, I need you to touch me."

"I'm not even a le-"

"Neither am I."

Lizzie seemed to hesitate momentarily, but Jasmine felt her strong hand gently cupping her.

"Are you sure?" Lizzie whispered faintly.

Jasmine turned around to face Lizzie and slowly, gently, kissed her. Lizzie was hesitant at first, but eventually she relaxed. As they both began to realise they were really doing this, they increased the pace and vigour, and they clambered to wrap themselves around one another. Jasmine felt Lizzie's hands slithering under her t-shirt, up her back and down again to her backside. Adrenaline flashed through Jasmine's body as Lizzie squeezed Jasmine's buttocks and drove her hips into her own. Jasmine forced her arms between them and wrestled her hands under Lizzie's top to feel her breasts. She grasped and fondled them as their tongues flitted and flickered in each other's mouths, more and more frantic every second. Lizzie pulled Jasmine's t-shirt off and ran her fingers lightly over her chest. Jasmine's eyelids flickered heavily as she yanked at the base of Lizzie's top. Lizzie ripped her own top off and rolled on top of Jasmine. Lizzie's mouth slowly departed from Jasmine's and began to lick and suck its way down Jasmine's neck to her delicate breasts. Lizzie's mouth teasingly took it's time reaching one nipple, and her fingers did the same with the other. Jasmine groaned and grabbed Lizzie's head, trying to move her.

Eventually both mouth and fingers grazed Jasmine's nipples and she arched her back violently, forcing her breasts into Lizzie's face. Lizzie pinched Jasmine's nipple and she yelped it sent a jolt to Jasmine's clit. She adored each of Jasmine's nipples with her mouth and Jasmine grasped her head tightly, her hips bucking desperately into Lizzie's abdomen.

Lizzie's mouth began to move lower, and Jasmine became wetter and wetter, her legs automatically spreading wider as Lizzie's tongue circled her navel and continued south, excruciatingly slowly. Again Jasmine was unable to stop herself from grabbing Lizzie's head and pushing it downward. But this time Lizzie paid her no mind and continued her ecstatic torture. She slid Jasmine's panties down and stayed horrendously long at the very top of her lips, so long that Jasmine screamed incomprehensible sounds as she clutched at Lizzie's head.

Then she gave Jasmine's clit one quick swipe with the tip of her tongue. Jasmine shivered as her body responded. Lizzie circled the sensitive bud with her tongue and then gently dipped her tongue into Jasmine. Her legs automatically opened even wider, as wide as she could manage. Lizzie's tongue circled and flitted over Jasmine's clit, slowly increasing the pace. One of her hands reached up to knead Jasmine's breasts, and the other was tickling her labia, insinuating itself inside her. One finger gently slid in, and then another, and that tongue continued to tease her clit, Jasmine groaned as her world shut down, until she was aware only of her breasts and her pussy. She clutched and wrenched the bed sheets and she called out Lizzie's name as her ecstasy rose and rose and rose, beyond Jasmine's belief. She grabbed Lizzie's head and screamed her name again as her pleasure exploded magnificently, hurling Jasmine into throes of wordless, flawless pleasure.