Steamy Sisters (11 page)

“Do you ever think of moving back to San Francisco?”

“Sometimes, but I like it here in the mountains. It’s home.”

“Would he move here?”

“Not at the moment. The art scene in Steamy Springs can’t really match San Francisco. He’s too into his career right now. Maybe one day.”

“Do you love him?”

“Of course,” said Emily, “but we’re both free spirits. We’ve got a kind of open relationship, but if I marry anyone someday, I hope it’ll be him. You understand, don’t you?”

“I understand,” replied Katarina, “I’m the same. I mean, I like you, of course. And there are so many hot girls around. But, I’ll end up marrying a guy.”

“I’m hot for you too, honey. And if I ever do decide to give up men, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” laughed Katarina, “So, let’s make out.”

They lay side by side and stroked each other. Emily ran her palm along Katarina’s thigh and up over her bottom. Their breasts touched, nipple to nipple, and the sensation sent happy electric currents through their bodies.

Katarina lowered her head and took Emily’s breast in her mouth, caressing her nipple with her tongue, cupping her breast in her hand, and guiding it in and out of her mouth. Sucking tits was okay for her. Better than eating pussy. She loved sucking generally, especially cock.
 

Emily lay back and let Katarina make love to her. She loved the feel of a woman against her. There was a tenderness and closeness being with a girl that was altogether different than being with a man. The two couldn’t be compared. They were different. Each wonderful in there own way. But different. Sometimes she preferred the touch of a girl. Soft and gentle and intimate in the way that only girlfriends could be. But other times, her body needed the harder, rougher feel of a man. She needed to be held closely in his powerful arms, feel his bulk against her, his weight pinning her to the bed. His cock deep inside of her. She felt it was a shame that she lived in a world where she was expected to choose. It was like choosing between sweet or salty, chocolate or french fries, both tasted good, and the world would be a less enjoyable place if forced to give one of them up.
   

Katarina’s lips began to move lower down Emily’s body until she reached the lovely trimmed lawn of hair that pointed like an arrow towards her beautiful secret place. Emily moaned slightly as Katarina prised her legs gently apart and buried her face between them.

Her tongue explored the moist folds of Emily’s pussy, searching for a way into the velvet cave that lay beyond. Seemingly eager to feel it’s lusciousness against her mouth, to enjoy it’s feel and taste.
 

Emily massaged her own breasts, tweaking her nipples, keeping them erect and sensitive, heightening her excitement, her upper body demanding the same as was being felt lower down. Both parts connected by intense shimmers of pleasure which were engulfing her entire torso.
 

Katarina pulled back the hood of skin covering Emily’s clitoris, glanced her fingertip against it, and felt Emily’s legs tighten around her head. Pushing the magic button always got a reaction. It was like a woman’s body was a wonderful, beautiful machine. One touch of the pink button fired it up and sent an electrical current whizzing around it’s circuits.

Emily put one hand on Katarina’s head, ensuring she stayed between her legs, and her other hand grasped hold of the bed sheet, needing to have something to hold onto lest she get carried away too far and too quickly.

As Katarina continued between her lovers legs, Emily could resist it no longer. She could feel the warmth rising in her. A fire from within that was spreading out along each and every nerve fibre, overwhelming her with it’s intense, euphoric heat.
 

She was there, and she twisted her head to one side and buried it in the pillow, her mind caught somewhere between elation and an almost trance-like otherworldliness. It was a type of transcendence. A removal from the real world. A glimpse of paradise.
 

She pulled Katarina up against her, and kissed her tenderly. They lay in each other’s arms until, finally, Emily drifted off to sleep.

Katarina got out of the bed, placed the quilt over Emily and went downstairs to the kitchen. She poured a glass of water from the fridge, took a large mouthful, swirled it around her mouth, gargled, and then spat it out in the sink.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, picked up the phone, and waited impatiently for her call to be answered, checking the door nervously, making sure that Emily wasn’t coming down the stairs. Finally, someone picked up the phone.
 

“She’s sleeping,” said Katarina, “The Bitch let me eat her pussy out, and gave me nothing in return. Don’t worry, everything will be okay… I’ll make sure she does it…I’ll phone you in a few days…love you.” And then she put the phone down and went back to bed.

Chapter Three

 
Emily was up early, made breakfast for them both - cereal, slices of watermelon and orange, toast and coffee - and took it back upstairs to bed where they ate it whilst chatting about what they had to do during the day.

Emily sipped her coffee and watched Katarina eat a slice of melon. There was something sensual about the way she devoured the red flesh, and it made her think of how Katarina had sucked on her pussy the night before. At the same time, she was slightly bemused that she was with her, here and now, in bed, the morning after. She had been with other girls before, of course.
 
She’d known from a young age that she was attracted to both sexes but, apart from teenage crushes on some older girls at school, her girl-hots had never amounted to anything. It wasn’t until she’d left home at eighteen to go to art college in San Francisco that she’d finally got to experience that particular forbidden fruit. She’d had four wonderful years of freedom, enjoying her youth and her sexuality in one of the most liberal, anything goes, exciting cities on earth. There had been numerous girls and boys during that time, and more since, and she wondered whether she’d ever settle on one sex or the other. Until she met Jake, that was. He was a year older than her. One of the stars of the college. An incredibly talented artist, and, almost unbelievably, a nice guy with it. Nice in the sense of sweet natured, not in the sense that her parents would particularly approve of him. He was typical of the milieu from which he sprang. Son of hippy parents from the West Coast. He’d been brought up in a kind of counter-culture artist’s colony where the normal rules of conservative society held no sway. It was this ease with diversity that attracted her to him, and it was also the reason she felt comfortable continuing to have relationships with other girls. She would never cheat on him with another guy, but being with a girl didn’t feel like cheating. It was, as she’s reasoned, just wanting to taste something sweet after gorging on the main course.

Emily liked the fact that he was different, but she sometimes wondered if his background wasn’t a little bit too weird even for her. Her own upbringing had been the opposite. It had been casual and easy-going, but she’d been part of a close-knit family, with parents who were devoted to one another. She was one of four sisters, and was a twin herself. She loved her twin sister Melissa, but hadn’t seen much of her in the last few years since they’d both moved to different cities to go to college. They talked regularly on the phone, and Emily would often tell her about guys she was seeing, but she’d never told her about any of the girls she’d fallen for. Her small-town Colorado background still influencing her thoughts, no matter how liberal she thought herself to be. She wondered if Melissa had ever loved a girl. She couldn’t imagine so, but who knew? She also wondered whether the fact that she had a twin sister was the reason she felt such a particular closeness to other girls. Did spending nine months in the womb, and being connected to another girl so closely make her predisposed to liking women? Did she yearn to re-create the intimacy of the womb in her adult bed. It was intriguing. And very confusing. She often wished she could make up her mind between men and women. But for now, she’d just enjoy herself. She was only twenty-five. She’d settle down in good time.

  
Her and Katarina had only known each other for two months. She’d put an advert in the local newspaper for someone to help her out during the exhibition, after her other assistant had left to go travelling in Asia. At best, she’d thought she might get an efficient, prompt, good little worker to help her out. She hadn’t dreamt that she’d find anyone as, intelligent and talented as Katarina. She was two years older than her, and from a wealthy family in Southern Germany. She’d studied art in Munich and Paris, and art history in London. How she’s ended up in Steamy Springs, Emily wasn’t quite sure. It seemed she’d originally moved to New York, but had then decided to see some of America, and had travelled westwards, settling for a while in the Rockies, where the snow-capped peaks and wooden ski lodges had reminded her somewhat of home, and she’d decided to stay. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Emily had been glad to meet her, she was perfect for the Gallery. And she was, of course, beautiful - in a very Germanic way. Slim and tall with blonde hair. A naturally, northern European skin, but which tanned well and evenly to a lovely golden colour. She was athletic, but not big or muscular, just trim and toned and, like many German girls, she had no embarrassment in her nakedness,
 
happily stripping off to lie under the hot summer sun. Her temperament replicated her anatomy,
 
a cool, somewhat distant, demeanour that rapidly lost its frosty aspect once exposed to the warm beams of admiration.
 

Emily had fallen for her straightaway. She was sophisticated and strikingly pretty. Her hair cut sharply in an asymmetric bob. Her make-up minimal. Her complexion flawless. Her blue eyes intelligent and keen, and backed up by a resume´ that seemed almost too good to be true.
 
European art colleges. New York galleries. At ease amongst the wealthy clientele, she was a natural. She knew she wanted to be with her. She also knew that they would eventually part. All the more reason to enjoy it whilst it lasted.

Emily took a napkin and wiped the juice from around Katarina’s mouth. She took the lap-tray and carried the empty cups and dishes back downstairs. When she returned, Katarina had quickly showered and dressed. She wore a light blue, summer dress that complemented her eyes, and its simple design both covered her elegantly, yet left nothing to the imagination. Her golden-brown limbs set-off perfectly.

Emily got ready herself, and looked no less beautiful. They were a great looking couple. Even the most extreme homophobe would forgive them their nature. They looked too cute to dislike.

 
They got in the SUV and drove the ten minutes to the Gallery.
 

“So when did Jake decide to come?”asked Katarina.
 

“He phoned when you were in the shower,” replied Emily. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I was planning on going out tonight anyway. I’ll stay at my place for the weekend. You two lovebirds can be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I told you before. I’m cool with it. I like guys as well, remember.”

“I know. But, you know… you’re a girl. Sometimes I worry you’ll be fragile about this type of thing. Guys don’t seem to worry so much. At least, Jake doesn’t.”

Katarina laughed. “Jake doesn’t worry about anything. He’s the definition of liberal.”

Emily nodded. “It’s still okay for you to come around though. The three of us can go out together.”

“Maybe,” said Katarina. “I’ll see.”

Emily parked the SUV across the road from the mall, and they both crossed the road. Emily headed to the Gallery to open up, and Katarina went to buy coffees.

As she left the main strip and turned into the little passageway that led to the mall, she noticed a car pulled up on the side of the street. The driver was standing on the sidewalk next to it, one arm leaning on its roof, the other lifting a cigarette back up to his mouth. He was dressed in black, with sunglasses. He was the same guy she’d seen in the Gallery yesterday.
 

She took out her keys, activated the security grille release system, opened the Gallery and turned off the external alarm.

She switched the lights and air conditioning on, and picked up the mail from the box.

 
She went to her office and played
 
her voicemail messages. There was one from Jack Keate inviting her and Katarina to his lodge in Snowmass this weekend.

She smiled, and tried to think of an excuse. But she couldn’t. Jake was coming, but she doubted Keate or Katarina would allow her to use that as a reason not to. Maybe they should go. Jake would probably enjoy it. He was the sociable type, and enjoyed meeting new people, especially if they were famous. She was always amused by that. Despite his apparently cool, laid back persona, he was as excited at meeting a celebrity as a fourteen year old Valley Girl. It was quite endearing really. Although, he always claimed that it was just business. Networking. After all, one of them might buy one of his paintings.

She returned to the Gallery floor, did some general tidying up, and sat back in the chair to survey her little kingdom. All in all, she’d done quite well for herself. She’d always been arty, but she knew she wasn’t really good enough, or maybe didn’t really have enough commitment to the bohemian lifestyle, to be a big success in the modern art world. She was a rich girl from Colorado, and the idea of maybe moving to New York and living in a loft, being part of the whole art scene, didn’t really appeal to her. San Francisco had been great, but she always knew she’d return to Steamy Springs. There was something about the safe, welcoming embrace of the mountains that she could never get out of her system.
 

She still painted regularly, and, technically, she was good. But she figured you had to be more than plain good to make it as an artist. You had to have some quality that set you apart. She guessed she didn’t have it, but she thought Jake might.
 
That’s why she had decided to become a gallery owner and dealer instead. She wanted art to be part of her life, but she didn’t want to sacrifice her whole life to it. One day she wanted to get married and have children, and that sometimes seemed incompatible with being a successful modern artist. There always seemed to be a price to pay. Too often it seemed to be failed relationships and childlessness.