tagLesbian SexTomorrow Isn't Promised Ch. 01

Tomorrow Isn't Promised Ch. 01



Pain lanced through her head, radiating from a hot lump scabbing at her temple and migrating downward through her torso and causing her toes to curl. She didn't open her eyes at first; she raised a hand, attempting to touch the wound but found that it was impossible. Lines that led to an IV drip and electrical leads tethered her forearm to her body. She let her arm drift downward and moaned again, gritting her teeth against the hurt.

Opening her eyes was a bad thing. Bright, blinding sunlight flooded her unused pupils and she gasped at the visual assault. Brightness crystallized and prismatic reflections bounced around her eyelids until the sea of white cleared and objects dialed into focus. She was astounded to find that the first thing she saw was the screen of a beat-up color television. Some blonde was begging a dark-haired guy for something. Didn't make any sense but she didn't linger long.

Hospital room. Her eyes took in the non-descript cream-colored curtains, the sea foam walls and the plastic serving tray. The center curtain was drawn and the television was dark on the other side, meaning that she was either alone or her roommate was sleeping. Fresh aches radiated through her body and she rose up on one arm, yanking the leads off and letting her feet seek purchase on the cold, tiled floor.

"Miss? Miss!"

The nurse's words didn't faze her; she slid the trocanter from her arm and arose, pressing a corner of sheet to the bleeding wound. "Where am I?"

"You don't know where you are?"

"Would I be asking you if I did?"

The nurse circled her with wariness. "What's your name?"

Her mind worked. She was alternately surprised and dismayed that no memories jumped into her brain and no name parted her lips. Her eyes scoured the walls for a nameplate and found none. The scrap of hospital paperwork on the tray contained no name and the plastic-encased wristband was blank, except for a few hyphenated numbers.

All at once, the fight left her. She forgot about the itchy adhesive from the electrical sites. She forgot about the weeping injury on the inside of her elbow. She even forgot about the thin hospital shift that barely covered her ass. All she could think about was the emptiness that now filled her mind and the confusion that coursed through her body.

Nurse Barb Pelinsky edged closer, her green eyes trained on the young woman. "What's your name?"

She shook her head, astonished at not finding the ready answer. "I … I don't know."


Dr. Brett Washburn stepped into the room, shoving a pen into his pocket. This was the third Jane Doe they'd had this week and he was feeling a sense of excitement about this one. She was awake. He had glanced into the rooms of the other two women and noted that they were still comatose. A striking redhead with 38DD jugs and a brunette with small Bs slept with the angels, waiting for the blessed awakening. What a waste.

Washburn pushed those thoughts aside as he approached the bed, gazing at the woman who glared back at him. Her shoulder-length black hair was tangled and her brown eyes were steady and expressive. She sat back on the bed, crossing one well-shaped leg over the other and appraising him with anger. Long, manicured nails stair-stepped intercrossed fingers and her posture drew her spine straight, giving her an almost royal air.

"Miss … "

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

Her arrogant attitude shocked him and he paused in reaching for his stethoscope. "You don't remember your name?"


"What do you remember?"

"I remember some white bastard beating the hell out of me."

Those words stunned him. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Nope." She slumped at the release of the word. "Not really. Blond hair. Light eyes, maybe green or blue. White skin."

Washburn nodded. "Good. That's a start." He nodded to the nurse. "Now, why don't you relax? You're in the hospital and you're safe."

"No, I'm not." Her measured words caught the ears of everyone in the room. "I'm not safe. Not until I know how and why I got here."

Dr. Washburn agreed. "That's great, but until then, you are my patient. Now, if you'd kindly sit down, I'd like to take your pulse."

Wearing a look of defiance, the girl known as Jane Doe allowed someone to touch her, a first since she'd been admitted eighty-six days earlier.


Alex Pontorino stood patiently and watched as the doctor, two nurses and a technician left the room of the young black woman. None paid any attention to the janitorial staffer. After all, she was there to change the sheets, not to change the world. She was an inconsequential cog in the workings of life and even less important than those who could save lives.

"Alex?" She paused when the pretty blonde nurse spoke to her. "Make sure she has a fresh gown."

Alex nodded and waited until they left before swinging the door shut and whisking the curtain closed. The woman sat up and stared at her, her eyes wide like an animal in the headlights. Alex was startled by her reaction but she relied on her training to help her adapt to it. "Hi, how are you?" She set the stack of fresh linens on the side tray and moved closer. "I'm Alex."

She watched the woman closely, her angry brown eyes meeting with Alex's mossy green ones. "So?"

"So? You aren't gonna make many friends around here if you say ‘so' when someone introduces themself." Alex took another step, the pillowcase in her hand.



"Himself. Himself or herself. You don't use themself with someone. Someone is singular."

Alex chuckled. "Well, good to know one of us is good with English. Now, hand me your pillow."

"Why? It's fine."

"No, it isn't. You've been drooling on that sucker for nearly eight days now and it needs to be changed … " Alex grinned. "Unless you want zits."

The woman thought about her words and decided that she was telling the truth. "Okay."

The janitor lady took the pillow from her and she observed her changing the pillowcase. She was not very tall, maybe 5'6" but her dark, black hair made her hazel eyes leap into vibrant life. She was lean, except for a tiny bit of paunch around her middle and a climbing rose tattoo that disappeared under the cuff of her uniform's sleeve. "Here you go."


"No problem. Just part of the service." She felt strangely unnerved by the woman's lopsided smile and turned her attention to fluffing her pillow. "I'm gonna need you to get out of bed now."

Alex watched the willowy black woman slide over the cold iron rails, wincing at the coldness of the floor tiles. Without thinking, she took the old pillowcase and double folded it, laying it at the woman's feet. Her murmured thanks made the blood rush to her cheeks and she deftly stripped the bed, tossing the dirty linens into the basket, then headed into the bathroom, replacing the soiled towels.

"Okay. One more thing and I'll leave you in peace." Alex held out the fresh gown. "I need you to change into this. You can use the bathroom."

For some odd reason, the sight of the nearly threadbare gown made her laugh and she shook her head. "You don't expect me to wear that, do you?"

Alex laughed, too. "Hey, they told me to give you a new one."

"Then could you find me one that doesn't look like a J. Lo outfit?"

"Sure. I think I could do that."

The woman smiled and sat back down on the bed, swinging her long legs under the crisp, clean sheets. "Thanks." Her eyes were drawn to the darkening evening sky outside and tears burned in their dark brown depths. "That would be nice."

Alex stood for a long moment and just stared at the beautiful black woman, wondering why she felt so compelled to talk with her. "How about I come by tomorrow?"


"Great. Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

As Alex moved out, she brushed by Dr. Washburn and the duty nurse, Pelinsky, who were observing the conversation and checking her charts. "She didn't want the gown?"


"I said, she didn't want the gown?"

"Oh, no, ma'am. She wanted the gown. She just didn't want one that was so transparent."

The nurse nodded and Alex continued down the hallway, whistling as she looked forward to seeing the woman the next day. Maybe her friendship would help her towards remembering her life.

And just maybe, she would find Alex in those memories.


"Lie still."

The satin blindfold remained in place, leaving her in a dark hole while her body bloomed with heat and light. The tongue started at the inside of her knee, fat and thick, dragging wetly upward. She trembled as each nerve it crossed flowered into indescribable sensations, concentrically traveling outward and meshing over others. Her nipples, already puckered into hard buds, ached with secondary vibrations and a low moan of appreciation rumbled through her. She wanted to reach down to return the touches but found her hands pinned above her head.

"No touching."

"That's not fair." She whined, gasping as wet tongue found wetter flesh and lovingly stroked. Her throat ached with the effort to breathe past the delicious feelings and she accomplished that by gasping yet again, as tensile tongue gave way to silky fingertip and she was suddenly impaled by a thick, manicured length of flesh and bone. "Oh!"

"I am the only one for you, sweet." The breathy words poured across her chocolate thighs, punctuated with unexpected nips and languorous licks. "And I mean to convince you of that."

"Please," Another gasp, another finger sliding deeply within pearly pink depths. "I never meant … "

"Oh, didn't you?" Hot breath hovered over the hump of her mound, descending close until the tip of the tongue connected with her flesh. "I told you that you that no one could satisfy you like I could and you didn't believe me."

Another long groan, shortened by a gasp of pure pleasure. "Oh, please … "

"Please what?" Fingers slid into creamy pink, curving just slightly and brushing a spot that made her pussy flex in sweet response. "This is your punishment." Thick lips lightly nibbled along her slick slit, sucking an outer lip in and releasing it with a loud smack. "This time, you'll never forget."

There were no more words. She couldn't speak if she tried. The fingers withdrew and weight shifted on the big bed. The assault began anew; this time, the lips and tongue found her eraser-sized nipples and began to lick, suck and tug on them while something wide and vibrating parted her juicy pussy lips and sank into the sultry depths of her cunt.

"Oh, yes!"

"You are mine." The voice whispered into her sex-fogged brain as her lover rocked against her, driving the vibrating dildo into her accepting body while gentle fingers pinched and rubbed her clit. "Say it."

"I'm yours."


She gasped as an open mouth descended onto her neck, tongue swirling, then applying suction to the tender flesh. Blood filled her heated skin, sweat sheened her upper lip and a magma flow of pleasure came alive between her legs. The dildo plunged deeper and slower, the fat, thick head furrowing the same smooth row, its questing length reaching and stretching. Suddenly, the most powerful orgasm was upon her and she arched upward, taking the cock as far into her sodden channel, her joy articulated.

"I'm yours!"


"She's not dead."

"What?" The incredulous voice on the other end of the line was furious. "I thought you said that you took care of her."

"I did! I smashed her on the head with the fireplace poker. I guess her head is harder than I thought."

"You've got to finish the job."

"No way! I'm not gonna try to kill her again! I've been sick for days."

"I don't care! You have to finish it."

"No, you finish it. I'm out of this."

"No, you aren't. I'll take you down with me."

"Look, this isn't some bad chick-flick. No one will know … "

"Did you wear gloves?"

"Of course."

"And you threw them away?"

"Of course."

"You know, you should have thrown them away when you got home."

"You didn't."

"I did. I have those gloves with your fingerprints in my possession and I will send them to the cops."


"And damned proud of it. Now, finish the job."

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