Authors: Chrissie Buhr
by Chrissie Buhr
Copyright 2013 Treasure Valley Writing Services
is a work of fiction and a construct of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, businesses, organizations, locales, or events is coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased solely for your use, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you for respecting my creative efforts!
Note to the Reader
This is the second edition of Psyche Moon, the first published in July 2013 exclusively on Amazon.com. After some great reader feedback I decided to rework the story a bit. The storyline is the same and only minor nuances have shifted that an attentive reader might notice from book to book. If you've already read Psyche Moon, you don't have to read it again to keep going. You can continue on Billie and Sadie's journey in the coming books without missing a step.
If this is your first foray into Billie and Sadie's world, then welcome! Enjoy our adventure.
Table of Contents
We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be — the mythological epitome of a savage, ruthless killer — which is, in reality, no more than the reflected image of ourself.”
~Farley Mowat, Never Cry Wolf (1963)~
Music pulsed around me, vibrating throughout my body so that even my heart beat in rhythm to it. Bodies bumped and slid amongst each other with little care. I managed to weave through the euphoric crowd without spilling merlot on myself or anyone else. Shielding my drink with one hand, I passed through the horde of bar patrons. Friday night partiers overflowed from every table and into the open spaces between so that maneuvering through the masses felt like bouncing around in a gumball machine.
I looked for a spare seat anyway. None were available inside, and that was just as well. I preferred the openness of the patio – less suffocating with people and cigarette smoke. People still puffed on cigarettes out there, but at least outside in the fresh air the smoke drifted away rather than choking me.
“Excuse me.” I had to practically yell to be heard over the music, but the two young lesbians in front of me blocked the doorway with their casual sprawl. They moved out of my way graciously, though without looking at me. Too caught up in each other to care about anything else, they seemed oblivious to the crowd. Curiously, I touched the surface of their minds and found they’d just met. Cute in their Goth corsets despite the overdone makeup, they flirted and talked. Each found the other incredibly sexy and fantasized about their later activities once they headed home. Which home was still in question.
Their libidos raced in high gear, automatically feeding my own.
I should have more control than that. I’m not fifteen anymore.
I wasn’t used to crowds anymore, I realized, and my defenses were slow. Mentally differentiating between my own responses and the lesbians’ was like sifting through coins in a bowl. I could tell them apart, but it took a moment. Sorting out my emotions, I left their immediate vicinity. My phony physical arousal abated a bit.
Still, I wished
wasn’t going home to an empty bed. The eroticism of the crowd left me craving a sexual encounter. Loneliness had brought me there to begin with. I didn’t come to find someone to take home, but to share in something outside of myself for an evening. Annie had left me three months prior – three months to the day in fact – and the lack of her warmth in my bed and in my life still left me a bit raw.
I tried not to think about Annie as I scanned the scene around me.
Outside, there were no free tables either – not surprising considering Louie’s was the hottest gay club in Boise on a Friday night. However, a few free seats stood out at already occupied tables. I cast out my senses and found what I was looking for – anonymity in a crowd. In one of the corners, I sensed two men completely absorbed in each other. They were friendly enough, but they weren’t interested in outside conversation and they certainly weren’t waiting for anyone. Everything they wanted sat right in front of them.
I headed in that direction, bumping into a drag queen who glared at my rudeness. I managed not to spill my wine on either of us. Thank God. Ruining a queen’s dress is a sure fire way to get your ass chewed. I approached the targeted table. “Hi. Mind if I sit here?”
One of the men, eyes bright and barely legal, smiled and waved his hand at the chair. Then he returned his attention fully to the man beside him, his hand returning to the young man’s thigh. Another full bed that night, I sighed. Horny men did not appeal to me, so I deliberately blocked them out.
This was perfect, I thought, tucked away in the corner. Out of notice but with a good view, I could see everything inside. The glass wall provided a slight buffer from the music even. Casually sipping my wine, I simply watched. Couples of all types danced across the brightly patterned floor. Most moved freely to the music, their bodies gyrating to the beat. A few danced quite well and caught my eye.
The scene had changed significantly since I first entered Louie’s on my 21
birthday. It had always been trendy, and the music and styles had changed with the times. I barely understood the scene anymore.
I rarely felt old at 29, but seeing all the younger generation and their fashions made me feel … not old exactly, but dated somehow. My own wardrobe had changed little in the last four years, and it wasn’t like anyone cared about my clothes at the warehouse. That night I wore my sexiest jeans and a button-down midnight blue shirt. Its cut showed off my curves, but it wasn’t flashy enough to draw attention. The most exciting thing about it was the one-more-than-usual undone button, showing a fair curve of my breasts.
I guess a part of me did want to take someone home.
I’d always been pretty, but nothing spectacular. Angelina Jolie I was not, and this body came with a price. I jogged every morning, sometimes just a few miles, but a couple times a week I pushed myself. I’d recently reached six miles and was eager to push towards seven. I’d never turn heads, but when someone paused in my direction, they liked what they saw.
Women in their sexiest attire and attitude surrounded me, and I felt something stir inside me as I noticed them. Unlike the secondary wave that hit me with the lesbian couple, this arousal was my own. I wanted to join the partiers, but I held myself back, as usual. They danced and talked and flirted, a few were very drunk, and all of them enjoyed the attention they received.
Except one: gorgeous, tall, with thick red hair. Lean and lanky, she had a runner’s body. She was strong and not just physically – power radiated from every motion. She danced alone, though she probably could have had any woman in the bar and some of the men, too. She didn’t seem interested in anyone, particularly not in the man who kept trying to join her. She’d move away and he’d follow, shifting closer and closer until he almost rubbed against her. Pathetic, but not surprising.
Why do so many straight men think a gay bar is a good place to pick up women?
Fed up, she stopped dancing, glared pointedly, and deliberately walked ten feet away. She began to dance again … God she could move.I lost myself in the sway of her hair and the fluidity of her hips moving to the beat. Her black leather pants showed off every curve, every muscle, and the small gap between her pants and her brilliant red shirt revealed a very kissable stomach. Her hair whipped around her face, a look of rapture in her eyes.
I lost myself for a while just watching her, desire growing hot within me.
I couldn’t believe he had the balls. As engrossed as I was in the sexy redhead, I didn’t notice the man until he grabbed her arm, obviously trying to get her attention. It worked, just not how he intended. Quicker than I thought anyone could possibly move, she turned and caught his wrist. Or at least I’m assuming she turned, because one moment she was dancing and the next she held him tight, eyes flashing and mouth grim.
Tantalized, unable to resist the impulse, I cast out my senses to experience the situation as if I stood beside them. Her voice low and menacing, she snarled. “Touch me again and I’ll deck you. I want to dance alone or maybe with a woman. Not with a man. If you keep bothering me I’ll break your jaw.” Wisely (better late than never), he backed off. The idiot wasn’t even scared. Beneath the controlled exterior, her mind flushed with anger, though it dissipated quickly after he left.
She tried returning to her dance, but the moment was ruined. She stopped in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes. With a deep breath, she left the dancing mob. I sighed as she slipped through the crowd and out of my sight, turning my attentions elsewhere. Scanning the crowds, I searched for another attraction but was disappointed. Nothing else caught my eye. No one was half as interesting as the redhead, and I started thinking about heading home.
Turning my attention over the patio edge, I had a good view of downtown Boise. Raking in the view, I wondered what home was. At that moment it didn’t feel like I’d ever had a home. At times I’d believed I had, but it never lasted. I thought I’d had it with Annie, but that ended too. The end wasn’t abrupt, but it did happen fast. Over a period of just a few weeks, she went from adoring me to fearing me. It wasn’t the first time a girlfriend saw that part of me and fled. I vowed it would be the last.
Draining the last of my merlot and not intending to order a second, I heard a voice behind me. “Can I buy you another?” Her voice sounded the same in person as it had in my mind. I turned and stared stupidly at her – was she really talking to me? She cocked her head and grinned, amused at my unsettled expression without mocking it.
I recovered quickly, though later than my pride liked, and smiled back. I’ve never been suave. “Sure.”
“Merlot, right?” I nodded, and she waved down a waitress as she took the seat to my left. “A merlot and a Budweiser.” A beer woman, I thought. Interesting.
Even more beautiful up close, I felt myself stir once again. Her vivid green eyes sparkled next to the red of her hair and her perfect small breasts suited the rest of her features well. I put her at twenty-five or so, without a single flaw on her face and very little makeup. The wind shifted and drew her scent to me: musky, not spicy with perfume like I’d have expected. She met my eyes and held out a hand, perfectly smooth and lacking nail polish … another surprise. “I’m Billie.”
I took her hand in the obligatory grasp but held it slightly longer than I intended. Touch always enhanced the impact of my senses, making the contact more personal, and she left me momentarily breathless. I didn’t want to let her hand go. Vitality and sexuality radiated from her, and her energy made my skin tingle. Warmth grew between my legs. “Sadie. Do you come here often?” Some kind of natural aphrodisiac seemed to emanate from her, and it possessed my ability to form intelligent words.
She shrugged but didn’t take her eyes off me, engrossed and intrigued. “Now and again. Enough that the bouncers know me.”
Even in my nervousness, I had to laugh. “I take it they protect you from hetero men like the one earlier.”
Her coy smile informed me of my mistake, revealing I’d been watching her dance. So had half the bar, I told myself, trying not to blush again. “Oh, no. They protect the men from me. We have an agreement. I don’t hit their customers and they let me in the doors.”
Shocked at her sincerity, I asked. “Have you actually hit someone here?” I was floored that she had the temerity to risk permanent expulsion from the club.
She took a sip of her beer before answering, obviously savoring the story. Her eyes sparkled and she bit her lower lip, a sexy gesture. “Once. He grabbed my ass – intentionally and after I told him to leave me alone – so I broke his nose. But just a little. The bouncers were livid and they came storming over like a pack of Rottweilers. Everyone stopped and stared. You may see that at some bars, but not here. Louie’s prefers a different kind of action. So Mike, one of the bouncers, told me to leave.”