When Life Starts Ch. 02

"Brooke. Ms. Windgate was right about you. Truly a Penngrove girl to the very core..." Shit, shit, shit she knew not just my name but Ms. Windate! Ugh! What the... "Don't let my presence stop you, dear. Continue, I insist." As she spoke, and I began to shame spiral, which got even worse when I felt her hand upon my shoulder. Then, even more shocking than everything that had just transpired, only a breath later, I felt a gentle tug on my hair from Rheena.

I knew instantly what she was trying to tell, but there was no way I was going to continue to please her with this woman watching us. At least that's what I thought, until whoever it was continued to step about the room, walking behind Rheena's desk, giving us just enough space for my conqueror to whisper down to me. "Brooke, keep going; trust me."

At first, despite the sincerity of her words, I resisted, but as I did, I felt Rheena tug again, this time hard, almost dragging my face into her sex.

Completely unsure what was happening or who this woman was, only guessing that she was both of our bosses by her dictatorial manner, I gave in and dove once more between Rheena's lips. At the very moment I did, and as soon as my tongue pressed through my boss' folds and earned her sexy little whimper, the woman commented again. "Good girl. See, Rheena, I knew you were the right woman for this job."

"Th-thank you, Mrs. Reid." Is all Rheena offered before she let her head tilt back and her eyes close - her raven-black hair cascading down her back.

"Now, we have some things to discuss. But luckily for you, all you need to do is listen - so just enjoy your liaison's attention." As Mrs. Reid continued to speak, my trepidation and fear of being watched began to fade. And as it did, and as I let myself focus on Rheena, time seemed to speed up. Which of course was aided by the fact that every word out of the interloper's mouth focused on business alone, and not the fact that I was on my knees, eating Rheena out.

That singular focus on Mrs. Reid's part continued, even as Rheena's own began to fade. Her lips parting to let out louder and louder moans, as her fingers tightened in my hair. Finally, when Mrs. Reid had finished, she returned to focusing on me, in a sudden command that sent shivers down my spine. "Finish her, Brooke."

Without words, and having already abandoned my inhibitions to this woman, I nodded without words and increased my efforts. An escalation Rheena aided as she lifted her right leg, and placed her perfectly thick thigh over my left shoulder, giving me as much access to her sex as I could ever ask for.

It took only moments for me to bring Rheena to the edge of orgasm, driving her so deep into lust that she began to hump my face and tongue. But just as I drug her over that line, and pushed her into ecstasy - just as Rheena started to whimper, moan, and quiver, and the first drops of her sweet nectar hit my tongue, I heard the door to the office open and then shut. Mrs. Reid having left, offering only the following in parting: "Lovely..."

Despite the unexpected and unwanted nature of Mrs. Reid's visit, I still let Rheena finish. Slowing the pace of my tonguing with the passing of her orgasm, only withdrawing it and myself when she was finished entirely. And when she was, and when she did, she reached down and pulled me to my feet. There, as I wiped my face with my hands, she shook her head in disbelief, before saying, "I am so sorry."

"I didn't mean to get you in trouble," I responded, fully aware that I bated her into that moment, or at least a moment of sensuality.

"Oh, I'm not in trouble. Actually, I might have been if you hadn't continued." Rheena explained, confusing me even more than I already was.

"What? Why...?" Came my questions, as I tried to understand the full breadth of the weirdness I had just found myself licking my way out of.

"The graduate of Penngrove University is asking me WHY? I thought you girls were all freaks..." And with that, everything that had just happened made sense. Complete sense. And so, almost embarrassed - actually embarrassed, I replied. "Oh..."

"Yeah... Well... Welcome to the Women's Wrestling Network!" Rheena joked with a soft, apologetic smile.

Given what I had just given to her, I could have pressed her for my rematch or at least a date for it. But, I could tell as she spoke, and by the way, her eyes immediately shifted to the papers on her desk, that Rheena needed to get back to work. And so, with the knowledge that Sarah was waiting for me in the conference room, my successful navigation of another Penngrove-flavored moment of sexual-testing, I said my goodbye. Making sure to get Rheena's promise to not only give me the rematch I had earned and then some but to respond to all my future texts.

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Sub-Chapter 3:

After a quick sprint to the nearest ladies room, a washing of my face, and a reapplying of makeup, I made my way back to Sarah and her tattooed beauty. From there, thankfully, she took control, taking me to her favorite bar - one that happened to be located in the lower level of the building where she lived.

It was dark, like a good dive bar should be. But really the only thing I remember about it was the neon letters above the well-lit, half-empty liquor bottles. "Prescriptions," it said. It was cute, and modern, in an oddly depressing way. Still, though, it was a bar with alcohol and beer, and so it worked for me. For us... An us that smiled at each other awkwardly from opposite sides of a red velvet cloth-covered table. One side of which had a sturdy wooden armchair, and the other a wall-backed-and-sided booth bench.

"Ok, look..." The platinum blonde with river-deep eyes broke the silence, sounding as if she was ramping up to give a speech of her own. "I just... I want to say... Errr ... um... You should know..." No matter how many times she tried to start her sentence, she petered out after only a few words - clearly nervous about relaying whatever it was had to say.

I wanted to say something to make whatever it was easier to get out, but just as I opened my mouth to try, she blurted it out. Well, kinda...

"I know." She said without context or consideration for my own lack of it.

"You know what?" I asked, as my lips bent in confusion, and my soft eyes searched her face with a still playful intrigue.

"I know..." Sarah paused as she brought her right hand to the top of the table, and placed it flat it in the center between us. "I know ... that in about 7 minutes, you're going to start pushing your drink into mine, to see if I'll resist you by pushing back."

As she spoke, I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. She did KNOW! Despite that realization, and as my jaw dropped open, she continued.

"And that in about 12 minutes, you're going to let your heels drift over into my space, hoping that you can get just a taste of what it would be like to compete with me. Even if it is the smallest thing. Even if it's all you'll ever get."

"You know," I said, repeating exactly what she had been trying to tell me; her brevity seeming oddly appropriate at that moment.

"I know." She repeated with an embarrassed, but purposefully accepting look on her beautiful face.

"Rheena told you?" I asked, just wanting to make sure I didn't have a "loves to sexfight" sign taped on my back.

"Rheena told me. But it's so ok... I ... uh, I'm into the same thing." She watched me so very carefully as she spoke - as she revealed, not wanting to miss any expression of pain or rejection on my part. Reactions she would try and curtail and soften at first sight.

"But she said she didn't know?" I asked, still trying to figure out exactly how Sarah could know who I was when Rheena didn't.

"She told me she went up against a girl named Brooke. A girl who was new in town. I wasn't sure it was you, until today. Until I saw how she reacted to you." Finally, it all made sense. Every second of the day so far.

"Oooohhhh, so ... you didn't ask me out for drinks looking for a new Orange is the New Black co-binger?" I questioned, trying to act as unaffected as possible. Having learned at Penngrove not to be ashamed as much as secretive about my "hobbies."

"Well..." she said as she let her eyes drift from my face to the waitresses as they traversed the bar to every table but ours. "...I'd gladly binge with you, but maybe not on Netflix... Not after they canceled Daredevil." And though, yeah ... she had left what we could binge on teasingly unspoken, I knew exactly what she meant - and loved the sound of it, even without, you know ... actually hearing it.

"Sarah! Good to see you, hun! What can I get for you and your friend here?" Came a voice unexpected from a waitress who had just come on duty and rounded the corner to our corner-angled, half-booth table.

This was Sarah's bar. Her domain of drinks and apparently propositioning her cute co-workers. So I let her speak and joke with the waitress, but as she did, I kicked off one of my heels and then raised my leg discreetly beneath the table. Pushing it forward, up, and under the skirt of my host, as she began to order us drinks.

I watched her for a reaction - to see if she knew what I was doing. But when I came to the conclusion that Sarah was too wrapped up in talking to catch me, I pressed in just a little further. Then, when the contact would be most distracting, I brought my big toe to rest on her panty-covered sex.

"Do you still have that blueberry mi..." Sarah started and then paused with a gasp, as I made my foot's presence felt. "...can you ... give us a mo-moment, actually?" It was delicious, her reaction, her distraction, and most of all, her immediate need to deal with me.

But as yummy as her sudden and seizing diversion was, she was already wet. No doubt from the excitement of discussing our mutual enjoyment of sexfighting, but regardless of why I was going to tease her. And tease her I did, even as the waitress gave her a smile, and a pleasant "sure, honey," before walking away.

And with that walking underway, Sarah closed her eyes, whipped her head back towards me, and then placed her hands palm down on the table. Her lips opened a moment later to curse at me, "bitch."

"Mmm, love it, cunt?" Now don't get me wrong, I didn't suddenly hate her, nor her me. But calling each other names was just part of the game. The tension. The testing. Each of us seeing the other as a sexual opponent. A relationship I made official and irresistible when I pressed my toe down against her wet, panty-covered sex.

For a moment, Sarah just sat there. Across from me and quivering every few moments. Just taking it in. Just feeling the pleasure I inflicted upon her. And as she did, I leaned in, placing my elbows on the table as I smiled deviously at her, waiting for her to open her eyes so I could see what I was doing to her soul with my devilish dragging of toes, my pressuring of her clit, and splitting of her still fabric-defended folds.

But as I celebrated my own little submarine attack, I suddenly felt her launch the same. As my lighter blonde rival's own leg raised, and her recently un-heeled foot worked its way beneath my black skirt. Like her, I gasped. Like her, I pulled back from the position I was in, excited by the prospect of trying to resist the pleasure she returned to me.

With me joining Sarah in that intensely erotic struggle of wills, we each just sat there. Our eyes closed and lips parted, taking in quick, hitched breaths. Breaths that we shared in silence as we let ourselves submerge into that, our first testing of each other.

"No..." She gave me in an almost inaudible whisper, one that served as an admission of how quickly the passions within her were building.

But even as I took that in, and let my panting mouth bend into a smirk, it instead gave off a similar admission. "MMnnnn..."

But right then, as we each began to "sell" for each other (a term I was certain I would be using a lot more often), we heard it. "Are you two ... umm ... ready to order?"

At the voice, our eyes opened, and we looked. Not to each other, but to the brunette waitress who stood there, watching us foot-fuck each other. Which might be a little bit of exaggeration, as she couldn't see those implements of devastation and distraction. But she could see us absolutely melt on opposite sides of the table, though she didn't know the cause.

Still, though, politely, she didn't make a comment. And even though she didn't, we each pulled back our moistened toes, flexing calves, and extended legs - giving each other the relief we needed to once again come off like rational human beings.

After an awkward cough, and a moment spent collecting herself, Sarah ordered, and the waitress left. When she did, Sarah and I looked at each other in sexy, playful glares.

"I'm going to get you for that." Came Sarah's warning, as she tried to resist the urge to let her lips curl into a smile.

"Get me, bitch..." I answered as I leaned back in my seat defiantly, wanting more of her and whatever "getting" she had to offer.

And though she and I both wanted more, that moment of teasing and anticipation was golden. Each of us intent on driving the other mad with desire, until we couldn't wait another second before tearing into each other. At least that's how I pictured the scenario. Long and lingering - one that slowly built to us exploding desire we could no longer control!

Nonchalant though my challenge to "come get me" was, about 4 seconds later, Sarah hopped up from her seat. Her chair causing a deep and echoing errk-sound as it slid back across the wood-built bar floor. As that sound brought eyes to our mostly clandestine affair, my yellow-blonde rival moved to and then shoved her way into my side of the table - the booth side.

"What are you doing?!" I asked in a nervous and partially resistant voice.

"Mmm, well you said to get you, and here I am..." Teased Sarah, as her hips and mine met and then fought for space, she forcing me to move over to avoid making even more of a scene. When I did, and she had the room to sit, she did.

Once she was there with me in the tight confines of the booth, she leaned into me, pressing the side of her body against mine. Then, confidently, she bent her neck and finished her comment in a whisper. "...slut."

As if that playful curse was a shout of go at the end of a count to three, Sarah and I, in an instant, reached beneath the table for each other. Not to put our hands on each other's thighs or knees. Not to slowly work our hands between each other's thighs. But to take it. To "grab" it, as our president used to say on buses and in locker rooms. Each of us looking to claim the other's sex as our own.

But as soon as our hands ducked under fabric, and fingers slide past panty bands, we were forced to pause, our waitress having returned with our drinks.

"Didn't like the chair, huh, hun? They can be uncomfortable. I've been telling them to buy new ones, but if it don't make dollars, it don't make sense, they say." As the waitress stood there, going on and on about chairs and cents, Sarah and I's hearts raced as our fingers pressed deeper. A delving that took place, even as with our free hands, we held each other's forearms softly. A grip not meant to stop the other's plunge but almost to feel as if we were in control of it - allowing the other to access our already soaking kitties.

"Anyway, here you two go. Think you'll need anything else?" The brunette server asked, seemingly oblivious to our hands' slow delving towards each other's hungry pussies.

"No." "We're fine, thank you." Came Sarah's reply and mine simultaneously, and even now, as I look back on it, I'm not sure which was mine and which was hers. The haste of our refusal coming from our need for our friendly waitress to just go - to walk away and leave us alone together.

"Alright, well ... just let me know." The waitress said, only half-miffed at our blurted out refusals. A tone she took as she turned and continued her journey about the bar, moving to a table three down from us. But before she was even halfway into that turn and travel, Sarah and I were already locked lip-to-lip and tongue-to-tongue. Kissing each other passionately - desperately, each of us wanting to play so very bad.

Yes. The kiss was incredible. Yes. I could spend an eternity just tasting Sarah as our tongues wrestled for place and control. But that didn't stop us each from plunging our fingers deep into each other. A mutual impaling that caused us both to gasp, and break from our kiss. Our foreheads pressing together as we tried to weather the storm each of us had brought to the other. A tempest that shortened our breaths, and caused us to gasp near silently, our lips brushing and noses dueling at their tips.

"I'm ... getting you, bitch." I taunted her, my sexy rival, even as my breath failed, and just before I gasped sharply at her touch.

"I'm getting - ugh - you, cunt," Sarah replied with equal confidence, each of us turned on beyond description or denial at that moment.

There, in our intoxicating closeness, and in the dimness of our booth seat, we fingered each other. Taking turns stimulating clit and then canal - driving deep and then dragging shallow. Until our gasps became groans and inaudible whispers became moans. Moans which, after some period of time I had lost track of, became too loud, even with Sarah and I isolated there in that corner. But what made it even worse, was that as we warred and wailed, table after table in the bar began to fill up.

But it was too late to stop. Too late for Sarah and I to just give up the chance to push the other over the edge, and establish an initial dominance right off the bat. And so we just continued. Refusing to end our mutual fingering. Using every second, every finger, every trick we had in our respective books to push the other to orgasm. Our lips pressing together, and tongues meeting once again to war at some point on that journey.

As brazen as our lip-locked fingering race was, so too was the way the men at those tables that surrounded us watched. Cheered. Hooted and hollered at just the kiss they could see, not knowing that beneath the table skirt and our own, we were fucking each other with our digits. That we were not just drunk bar girls, or voyeuristic lesbian lovers, but instead locked in a battle of sexual skill and the will to resist the same.

And though those celebrations we heard, at that moment, we were too lost in one another and our struggle to understand they were for us. Nor would just that have been enough to get us to apply the brakes, as we each had each other sooo very close. We could sense it. Feel it. Hear it. Taste it. An orgasm was coming for both of us, all we needed to find out was who would cave first? Who would release as the other pulled away in victory? But then it happened...

"Cough, cough!" Came feigned, intentionally attention-drawing hacks which did little to break through our state of sexual abandon. But when the conned sounds didn't work, the woman seeking our attention just spoke to us, even as we tried to ignore her. "I've tried to be patient with you two, but you have to go." Finally breaking our kiss and away from one another, as our waitress physically reached down and pried our heads apart by grips on our hair.

Suddenly drug from our state of desire-drenched derangement, we surveyed our surroundings in horror. For it seemed that the entire bar had been watching us - their attentions firmly fastened to our passion-drunk kissing. I'd like to say that when our little show ended, everyone returned to their own lives and affairs, but instead, they continued to stare. As we apologized. As we paid. As we gathered our things. And as we left, wet-hand-in-wet-hand, running out to the stairway outside the bar and then on the next floor up, to the elevator.