Venus' Finest Ch. 02

Elizabeth pulled back, letting Molly's nipple slide through her lips and provoking another gasp. She could spend all day kissing Molly's breast - either one, really - but she had been doing a survey of Molly's freckles. Queen Victoria said that art and science should work together for the betterment of mankind, and apart from the fact that no men were present Elizabeth was very much inclined to agree. So, slowly and deliberately, she kissed her way back towards Molly's sternum, and the cluster of freckles that dotted her cleavage.

"Elizabeth," Molly gasped. "I'm not sure that you can attribute all of this seductiveness to me."

"You're going to throw off my count," Elizabeth replied, kissing a freckle.

"Your count?" Molly asked with a smile. "Are you doing science, miss Elizabeth?"

"I am," Elizabeth said.

"You know, then," Molly said with a smile, "that repeatable results are a cornerstone of the scientific method?"

Elizabeth smiled, then leaned in to kiss Molly's right nipple. It didn't count as a freckle either, but Molly made lovely noises in response, quiet moans punctuated by humming. Elizabeth enjoyed repartee, but it was good to balance such clever exchanges with the sounds of unrefined pleasure. They balanced one another, like science and art.

Molly ran her hands through Elizabeth's hair. There was a beautiful contrast between her white fingers and Elizabeth's straight black tresses. They were contrasts in other ways as well - she was fairly adept at keeping her sounds in check, whereas Elizabeth was relatively unrestrained. In a moment, she intended to strip Elizabeth of her dress and give her another opportunity to practice. The moment kept slipping away, though. Elizabeth began kissing a path between her freckles, tracing some sort of constellation down Molly's ribs and along her belly, wondering what the stars looked like south of the equator. Molly found herself too distracted to redirect Elizabeth's explorations, as the kisses along her waistline made her shiver and gasp.

Elizabeth was almost as surprised as Molly was when she began pulling Molly's waistband down. Elizabeth managed to loosen it, then slid her hands down Molly's hips and around to her backside. Molly didn't gasp or moan; when Elizabeth glanced up Molly's eyes were closed tight, her lips slightly parted.

Elizabeth had lost track of whether what she was doing was art or science, exactly. She wanted to see Molly's exquisite bottom, and her legs, and the bronze-colored bush that led to her secret valley. She wanted to see how many freckles Molly had, and determine whether their number would change as the summer wore on. She also, however, wanted to continue kissing Molly. She wanted to kiss Molly's nethers, which was somewhere on the list of forbidden behaviors, but which appealed as much to her scientific curiosity as to her rising desire.

Molly didn't object when Elizabeth tugged at Molly's skirt, pulling it to the ground and leaving her in her knickers. She kicked her shoes off rather obligingly, in fact. When Elizabeth reached for her knickers as well, though, she took Elizabeth's hands.

"You're being so seductive," Molly declared, "that I haven't had time to seduce you out of any of your clothes."

"It will average out, I'm sure," Elizabeth replied. "But I'm not sure who is seducing who, the more I consider the question."

Elizabeth pulled, gently but insistently, and Molly let her knickers slide to the ground. She stood before Elizabeth naked, her dress piled around her feet like Aphrodite's seashell. Elizabeth stared in wonder, her eyes wandering up and down. Molly's hips were a bit wider than Elizabeth's, and her legs a bit more muscular from all of the walking she did in her work. Her proportions were perfect, though; the divine harmony that Elizabeth had noticed earlier was a universal feature. Her freckles grew lighter, in territory normally covered by clothing, but they graced almost every inch of her skin.

Elizabeth watched the rise and fall of Molly's chest. Molly's normally invincible calm was beginning to crack; Elizabeth could see her excitement in her breath, her blush, her expression. Perhaps she was helping Molly shed the mask of decorum that she had to wear. Then again, perhaps nudity made it more difficult to conceal her emotions.

Elizabeth looked up at Molly, and Molly smiled back, nervous and excited. "Are you still doing science, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth shrugged. Without breaking Molly's gaze, she kissed Molly's belly, just above her forest of red hair. "I don't know if it's science or art," she whispered. "I don't know which one love is." She leaned in close to kiss Molly's thigh, and Molly made a low warbling moan. "I just know that I want this for you."

"I was all set to get you undressed too," Molly murmured.

"Later," Elizabeth replied. She guided Molly back to the bed, sitting her at the edge with her legs hanging down. She knelt between Molly's open legs. She noticed a freckle on the inside of Molly's left thigh, and leaned in close to kiss it.

Molly's skin was soft and warm beneath Elizabeth's lips. Elizabeth's lips moved upward, hunting for another freckle and kissing Molly anyway when there were no freckles to be had. Molly moaned, a low sound too unrefined to be art and too primal to be science, and Elizabeth felt her own heart racing. She wrapped her arms around Molly's legs and held her tightly. Elizabeth could smell the welcoming, unique notes of Molly's skin, the salty tang of her sweat, and the wholly new aroma of her excitement.

Elizabeth moved up, her movement at once eager and tantalizingly slow. She could feel the tendon in Molly's leg beneath her lips, moving as Molly shifted. Molly's hair was rough beneath her tongue, and she traced a path along its edge, letting Molly's sharp breathing and ragged moaning drive her explorations. This was new territory, or at least mostly unfamiliar territory. Despite Victorian attitudes towards sexuality, Elizabeth had covertly explored her own nethers, discovering the contours of her body with her fingers once the rest of the house was asleep. But she'd never looked at anyone's nethers like this. She wondered how she differed from Molly, and how they were alike. She would have to ask Simon someday. Today, though, she had her own questions to answer.

Gently, slowly, Elizabeth pressed her lips against Molly's. Molly moaned, the long warbling sound driven from her by the touch. Elizabeth let her lips do the exploring at first, feeling Molly's shape, her heat, her growing excitement.

This was an altogether different kind of dance, Elizabeth thought. She and Molly could not respond to one another in kind, trading the lead as they did with other forms of kissing. Elizabeth could only lead by action, by applying her lips and tongue to new places and in new ways. Molly, in turn, could only lead by desire, guiding Elizabeth by sound and the motion of her hips on Elizabeth's face or her hands in Elizabeth's hair.

Elizabeth ran her tongue along Molly's cleft. It opened for her, wet lips parting to let Elizabeth feel Molly's inner folds, her depths, her pearl. Molly gasped shallowly, again and again, too overcome by the onrush of new sensations to even moan. She'd wanted this, dreamed of this, for so long that having it so suddenly was like being catapulted up a mountain. Like being launched to Venus.

"Yes," Molly whispered. "Oh, Elizabeth. Yes."

Elizabeth hoped that Molly could feel her smile. But she wasn't going to stop to make sure. She was busy exploring new worlds. Besides, she reasoned that Molly would be able to tell how she felt.

Elizabeth was careful, almost methodical, in her explorations. Her lips caressed every inch of Molly's cleft, her tongue sliding inside as she moved her head gently to and fro. Victorian society would collectively die of shock were they to see what she was doing. Idly, Elizabeth hoped that Victoria's Earth would continue to be shocked and offended, so that she could continue to feel the joy of breaking their rules.

Molly groaned, a low, rumbling sound like one of Baron von Diesel's engines at idle. She tightened her grip, momentarily pulling Elizabeth's hair, then gasped at the realization. "I'm sorry," she murmured, glancing down at Elizabeth with concern. Elizabeth wasn't going to stop long enough to reply, but she reached up and took Molly's hand, giving her a gentle squeeze even as her nose rubbed against Molly's nethers. Molly squeezed back, and opened her legs by a fraction.

"Oh Elizabeth," Molly whispered. "I wish I could banter with you, but, oh, don't stop."

Elizabeth smiled once more. Molly's pleasure was beautiful. She kept herself so well-contained, and it was a singular delight to watch her let the mask of decorum slip away. She was biting her lip, Elizabeth noted, and the muscles in her abdomen were tightening. Her blush was spreading across her skin, and Elizabeth realized that the remainder of her freckle count would be quite difficult to complete. She shrugged mentally. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all.

Molly looked down. Elizabeth Havelock, her beautiful raven hair rumpled but somehow still elegant, had her delicate lips pressed against Molly's flesh. She still wore the stylish dress she'd been wearing at lunch, and Molly couldn't decide if she wanted Elizabeth to keep wearing the dress or take it off.

She couldn't look for long, though. She wanted to catch Elizabeth's gaze, in between Elizabeth's elegant motions and her own moans. She wanted to keep saying witty things, because she knew Elizabeth enjoyed hearing them. But she found herself closing her eyes and leaning her head back, letting the pleasure rise up within her. Ever the scientist, Elizabeth was experimenting. Each time Elizabeth's tongue or her lips or her nose evoked a surprised moan or a tremor or an eager motion of Molly's hips, Elizabeth followed it. Molly could feel Elizabeth's hair beneath her fingers, and feel her body opening up for Elizabeth in every way, but she couldn't manage to look. Elizabeth was bringing her ever higher. She was helpless to determine the direction, like a passenger on a rocketship, and she had to trust her pilot.

"Oh God, Elizabeth," Molly gasped. "How - Oh - How do you do this to me?"

With you, Elizabeth thought, and for you, more than to you. But, regardless, I don't know how I'm doing it, this is just as joyous a discovery for me as for you. She couldn't say it, so she continued.

Molly panted, her chest rising and falling. She could feel her feet shaking, her hands gripping the satin sheets. She'd imagined being intimate with Elizabeth more times than she could count, but she'd been able to keep her control so easily in her imaginings. Now, just like Elizabeth the night before, she could feel herself rising toward a peak, and she didn't know how she'd keep from crying out loud enough for the Countess to hear it on the croquet fields.

"Elizabeth," Molly murmured. Elizabeth could hear love in her voice, and lust, and a glimpse of her upcoming climax. She wrapped her arms around Molly's legs, letting her hands grip Molly's hips and pull them in close. She kept her pace, her tongue dancing across Molly's pearl, Molly's wetness coating her lips. Molly's hips bounced as she desperately urged Elizabeth on, her pleasure refusing to be denied.

"Oh yes!" Molly moaned. "Yes! Miss - Oh - Elizabeth!"

Molly found Elizabeth's hand and grabbed it. She squeezed, harder than she'd intended to, but neither she nor Elizabeth seemed bothered. In that moment, as Molly reached the summit of the mountain she'd been climbing, it seemed fitting for them to be squeezed together almost to the point of pain. She squeezed, and felt Elizabeth squeezing back even as her tongue sent her over the edge, and she didn't need to scream her pleasure as she'd feared she might.

Molly did cry out, though, loud enough for Elizabeth to hear at least. She arched her back and wrapped her legs around Elizabeth, pulling her in tight. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to process anything but the glorious sensation of Elizabeth's presence. Waves of pleasure crested over her, flowing from her womanhood throughout her body. Through the haze of pleasure she heard herself crying out Elizabeth's name, just loudly enough for Elizabeth to hear.

She moaned as her climax receded, desperate for air, the fire still flowing through her nerves. Elizabeth had slowed, and when Molly glanced down she lifted her head and smiled, her expression joyous and pure.

Molly knew that the wise thing to do would be to get dressed, just in case she'd been louder than she thought. She found herself reaching for Elizabeth, though, pulling her onto the bed by her side. She held Elizabeth close, feeling her presence, her warmth, the unique sensation of Elizabeth's fancy dress against her bare skin, the way Elizabeth gave her such pleasure and comfort as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Molly wanted to say something witty, but her mind was a glorious haze of pleasure and belonging. Instead, she lifted her head and pulled Elizabeth in for a kiss. Elizabeth hesitated.

"Are you sure you want to kiss me when I've been-"

"Shh," Molly whispered, and kissed her. She shouldn't have had the energy - Miss Elizabeth had exhausted her - but she found it without effort, letting Elizabeth give her everything she needed. Their lips danced, saying through the dance everything that they couldn't say before. When Molly finally felt her exertions catching up with her, she rolled over, curling herself against Elizabeth's side and wondering how she'd gathered quite this much luck.

Elizabeth found herself wondering much the same thing. Molly's head nestled against her shoulder, and she spent one glorious moment doing nothing but enjoy Molly's presence. Then, opening her eyes, she spent another glorious moment doing nothing but admire Molly. The curve of Molly's spine, the way her sweaty hair clung to her neck, the way her ribs rose and fell, the truly perfect curves of her bottom - if Elizabeth had been an artist, she could have created a hundred sonnets, a thousand songs, a museum full of paintings just for her, for this moment.

Elizabeth smiled. She wasn't an artist. But Molly knew she wasn't an artist, and Molly loved her anyway. Clearly there was nothing wrong with being a scientist.

And, with that, thought, Elizabeth glanced down Molly's back. I think I was at ninety-four freckles, she thought, and resumed her count.

--

Dear Simon,

I trust this letter finds you well. Molly and I have missed you, although it has been hardly any time at all since we spoke, and touched.

You can imagine the difficulties we have faced without you. I find myself longing for your company at every hour, in every situation. I wish you were lying next to Molly and I as we drift off to sleep. I wish you were sitting close at hand as I adjust our landing calculations and begin to consider our future home's expansion on Venus. I wish you were here to hold my hand as I steel myself for the deceptions and machinations to come, as we prepare to make a true paradise of our soon-to-be adopted planet without drawing the ire of society. I know that you are with me in spirit, and that you must be doubly lonely at present. Those thoughts, I hope, shall carry me until we meet again.

I have attached a list of potential colonists who I feel may be interested in building the society that we wish on Venus. I will attempt to speak to them, but your help would be invaluable. We must exercise the greatest of discretion, and we will need to be watchful for the opportune moment to do so.

In the interests of science, I wish to share a set of results with you. I believe that Molly has approximately five hundred freckles at present. The margin of error is quite large, as I was rather distracted while gathering the data, so I would appreciate your own estimate.

I also found, in non-scientific endeavors, that she quite enjoys kisses in a wide variety of locations. You should inquire further.

With hope and love,

Elizabeth

--

The Countess knocked demurely on Elizabeth's doorframe, then immediately stepped inside. Elizabeth looked up from her writing desk and took a deep breath.

"I do hope your croquet went well, mother," she said.

"Indeed," the Countess replied, "although you were dearly missed."

Elizabeth nodded, a pained smile on her face. "I do apologise," she said. "But the call of Venus must be heeded."

The Countess nodded slowly. "And, have you also drafted a letter to Duke Hawthorne?"

"I have. Molly is carrying it to him as we speak."

The Countess frowned at that. "I had hoped to have a chance to read it," she said. "It is so easy to stray past the bounds of propriety when dealing with matters of this nature."

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "It was a rather personal letter, mother," she said, getting as close to scolding as her mother would tolerate. "But you need not worry. I said nothing to Simon that I could not easily say to a woman I hold in high regard." There was no woman she held in higher regard than Molly, after all.

The Countess smiled, evidently satisfied. "Well, I shall take that as a good sign. I trust you will be down for dinner?"

"Certainly," Elizabeth replied.

The Countess' smile shifted, a bit of genuine joy creeping in. "I recall when I first began sending letters to your father. It was truly a joy to imagine him reading them."

Elizabeth's heart raced at the thought of Molly delivering her letter, and how Simon would receive her company, and the particular sorts of joy she would experience that night as she lay in bed and considered it further. She smiled, with no artifice required. "Yes, mother. It is a great joy indeed."