JoAnne. I’d remember that name and that face. What an asshole. Maybe she was good in bed. Otherwise Ronnie was a poor judge of character. Or did that observation include me? And Alex?
She slapped the bottom of the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, putting it in her mouth unlit.
“You don’t approve?” She asked it as if she didn’t care what my answer was.
“It’s not for me to approve, Ronnie. I barely know you.”
“That’s not true is it?”
“Of course it is Ronnie. This is only the second time I’ve seen you.”
“Rusty told you, didn’t she?”
“What do you mean?”
“About Alex. About how it ended.”
“She didn’t tell me … I just got here. I haven’t even seen Rusty.”
“Then how about the first time you were here. Did Rusty tell you?”
“No Ronnie. I only know that Alex died. I don’t know how.”
“Really? The way you look at me. I don’t need your pity.”
She emptied her glass.
I still wasn’t sure how Alex died.
“I’m out of here.” I just wanted to go home.
I took two steps to the door.
She got off her barstool and grabbed my arm. I could have easily wrested my arm away from her but I didn’t. It wasn’t her grip, it was the fact that she chased me. She could have let me go. I’d been thinking about her for a month and I didn’t want to end this way. I could be impulsive too.
“I’m sorry,” she said to me before I could say it to her.
“I’m sorry,” I said back.
“Except for kicking JoAnne’s ass,” I added.
Ronnie laughed. “JoAnne’s not so bad. She really protective of me.”
“Right … maybe JoAnne needs a bit more work on her protection skills.”
“OK … I get it,” she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender.
She looked really good in that red cocktail dress. Then she held up a single finger to tell me to wait a sec and ran off towards the women’s room.
I took a seat on JoAnne’s recently vacated barstool, still warm, and got Rusty’s attention. I figured I had at least five minutes with a restroom break and then a cigarette.
“I don’t like that bitch.” Rusty volunteered. She was close enough to see and hear everything.
“JoAnne?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if she was somehow referring to Ronnie. I would find out that Rusty absolutely worshipped Ronnie, and that Rusty would never speak ill of Ronnie, even when she deserved it. There couldn’t have been a more loyal friend than Rusty.
“Yeah, she’s no good for Ronnie. Sometimes when I see Ronnie with JoAnne they’re both high on something.”
Rusty had an expensive bottle of bourbon in her hand … some name I didn’t recognize … and poured me some, splashing it in a fancy cut crystal tumbler.
“But you took care of her. That was pretty slick Jacks. You had her on the floor in two seconds flat.” She laughed. “It’ll be a while before she shows her face in the bar again.”
She leaned on the bar so she was closer to me. She talked in a more confidential tone.
“Look … Ronnie’s not herself when she’s with you. You remind her of Alex. Shit, you remind me of Alex. You know what you’re getting into if you stick around.”
“So what happened to Alex?” I had to know.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“It was a training accident. She was getting certified on a new fighter. It was a mechanical failure. She tried to eject, but the canopy didn’t fully release and she broke her neck when she hit it.”
“Shit.” No wonder Ronnie was crushed.
As that bit of information was settling in my mind, Ronnie came back in, bright and cheerful. Maybe it was the cigarette, or maybe it was because I was taking JoAnne’s place. She was glowing, and it wasn’t just the bourbon. Wow, she could turn it on when she wanted to.
She hopped up on the barstool and distracted me by crossing her legs. I watched as her dress fell open at the slit, exposing her outer thigh almost to the panty line.
“You’re staring …” she observed, watching my eyes transfixed on her legs.
I was flustered, and it took a lot to make me lose my composure.
“Oh … I’m sorry.” It was rude to stare at her legs but I didn’t care.
She bent over at the waist and snagged my wrist. She placed my hand on her thigh, right at the hemline. I could feel the softness of her creamy, white skin.
“It’s OK, honey. You like me, don’t you?” Her eyes told me it was a serious question.
I did like her. She was such a free spirit, so different than the people that I worked with at the base. The opposite of Megan. But there was so much baggage … so much pain.
“Sure I do,” I said, keeping my reservations to myself.
Ronnie sipped her drink. “Have you ever touched another woman?”
Shit, that was an embarrassing question. I’d only touched another woman once, and that was Bridgette, another man’s wife. I ended up telling Ronnie the whole story about Chase and Bridgette and I thought she was going to she was going to bust a gut she was laughing so hard.
“So you discovered you liked women when another man’s wife was eating your pussy?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so honest and told her the whole story.
“Honey, let me show you what you’ve been missing.”
She leaned over to whisper in my ear.
To the others in the bar, it looked like Ronnie and I were having an intimate conversation. She grabbed my wrist again, moving it between her legs.
“You’re going to touch me. You’re going to see how much I want you and how fucking wet I am right now,” she whispered in my ear. Her hot breath and her sexy message sent a shiver down my spine.
I could already sense the wet heat as my hand went under her dress. She must have taken her panties off when she was in the restroom. Her hand guided mine to the source of the wetness, ripe lips slickened with honey. The noise in the bar faded to her heartbeat, throbbing between her thighs. My fingers parted her lips and slid effortlessly inside her.
“Ummmm” she purred in my ear.
Sex with men didn’t feel like that. It was sensual, instead of just physical. To feel her palpable want for me was a powerful emotion. I suddenly wanted her as well, to possess her as mine.
“Yes … now fuck me with your fingers. Relax, no one can see us. Oh yes … that’s it baby,” she cooed, as I put another finger inside her, moving them in and out of her. She moved her hips ever so slightly on the barstool in time with the action of my fingers.
I laughed as if she had just told me a joke. I pushed two fingers all the way inside her. It felt like a velvet vise, awash with her desire. She shuddered, and for a moment she closed her eyes.
“Take me home,” she said. My fingers were still inside her. She pushed her hand against mine so I couldn’t pull out of her.
“I want to fuck you properly.” She pulled my fingers out of her and guided them to her mouth. She sucked on them, with her eyes locked on mine. There was a fire in her eyes. The fire was for me.
“Do you want to go?” she asked, her voice husky and sensuous.
I would have said yes to anything. I nodded my head.
* * *
It was pitch black outside and there was still a light mist falling. Ronnie and I stumbled out of the bar to a half empty parking lot.
“Where’d we park?” she asked me, scanning the lot even though she didn’t know which car was mine.
“Timbuktu,” I replied smartly.
She smiled at the subtle poke. Her smile was as becoming as she was. She looked beautiful to me, the fine droplets of water clinging to her short bleach blonde hair like highlights. I started to ache for her, and thought about the month of isolation in Jacksonville, when my memories of her, and Rusty’s, kept me focused on finishing my training and getting back to Lemoore … and to her.
We were both in heels, making the trip across the broken asphalt of the paved portion of the parking lot a real adventure, especially for me, who only wore them on special occasions. We wobbled the whole way, trying not to break a heel … or our ankles.
We reached my rental car, a subcompact that barely fit the two of us, and wedged ourselves in, still wearing our wet overcoats. I started the car and blasted the heater to get rid of the late night damp chill. I felt like I was in a steam sauna.
“You know the way?” she asked.
I looked at her with a glare. “I don’t need no stinking directions, ” I said, paraphrasing my favorite Humphrey Bogart movie.
The smile again. “Do you need directions?”
“Yes please,” I said. It had been months since I’d been there.
“Come here,” she said, opening her arms to me.
We hadn’t yet fastened our seat belts, and I leaned towards her to share our first kiss. She didn’t kiss like a man. It was long, leisurely, and sensual. It was an endpoint in and of itself, and not just a stepping stone to some greater intimacy. We took our time, letting the windows fog, as I shared my hunger for her and she celebrated her return to happier times. I wondered if she was thinking about Alex when she kissed me. I also wondered if I’d fall in love with her.
We wound our way through dark country roads until we arrived at Rusty’s house and the cabin behind where Ronnie seemed to have permanent squatter’s rights. The porch light was on. I unlocked the door and flipped on the light. The house was neat.
“Surprised?” she asked, talking over my shoulder.
“Yes, actually I am,” I responded.
“I liked the place so much after you cleaned it up that I’ve kept it that way ever since.”
She went into a kitchen cabinet next to the sink and pulled out a bottle of Wild Turkey.
“Sure,” I answered. She poured a double shot in each highball glass.
“Salut.” She downed the drink.
I took a sip. I couldn’t slam bourbon.
She motioned for me to come closer, wrapping me in her arms, crushing my breasts against hers.
“I’m going to show you how to make proper love to a woman.”
* * *
She brewed a fresh pot of coffee. I was sitting at her knotty pine kitchen table, marred with the dinnerware of hundreds of meals that had been served on it, sipping my black coffee and listening to the water running into the bathtub.
“It’s almost ready,” she called out from the bathroom.
I finished my cup and put it into the spotless sink.
“Come here … water’s ready.”
I entered the small bathroom. There were scented candles surrounding the tub and dried rose petals floating in it. She was wearing only a bathrobe, and I doubted there was anything underneath it. She gave me a smile, as if she was seeing me for the first time.
“Here, let me help you,” she said, starting with the zipper on the back of my dress. She slowly pulled it down, kissing my exposed back all the way down to my buttocks. There was no urgency in her motions. She helped me step out of my dress so I was standing there in only my bra and panties.
“You’re beautiful Jacks,” she whispered, as she planted a soft kiss on the tops of each of my breasts. She reached behind me for the clasp, and let me shrug my shoulders to help the straps of the bra fall off of my arms.
“So beautiful …” she said, cupping my breasts as if to assess their weight, and then kissing each of them again, but avoiding the nipples.
She lowered my panties and knelt in front of me, allowing her nose to touch my pubic patch, but doing nothing more. She rested there for a moment, catching her breath, while hearing my heavy breathing as my anxiety surged. She took my hand and helped me into the tub. I could smell the rose petals. The hot water covered me, and the chill of the rainy night, and my nervousness, evaporated with the steam rising out of the tub.
She took a large bar of verbena scented soap and rubbed it against a washcloth, using it to start with my face, taking off the traces of make-up that still remained on my face, careful to circle each eye.
“I feel as if I’ve known you my entire life,” she said, but saying it as if she was talking to herself. She soaped the washcloth again, starting with my shoulders and then lifting each of my breasts, washing them thoroughly until they glistened with a soapy sheen. She splashed water against them, and then, as if temptation became too great, took one of my nipples in her mouth, me emitting almost a purring noise as her tongue swirled around it.
I closed my eyes, slipping down in the tub until the water touched my chin, her hands now wandering further down, massaging my hips, then my inner thighs, feeling for and finding the crease between my leg and pubic patch.
“Touch me, Ronnie … please,” I finally asked her, finding it was me, rather than her, that was giving in to desire.
One finger entered me, probing for my “G” spot, and then finding that pulpy mass of hot wetness and causing me to emit an audible gasp. The gasp of pleasure invited a second finger inside me, stretching me open, and allowing the hot water to add additional stimulation to her tender touch.
“Ohhhh …” I let out, as the pleasure was already becoming too great for me to bear. This wasn’t anything like the sex I’d had before. This wasn’t sex … it was making love. I craved this feeling.
She leaned over the lip of the tub and captured one of my nipples in her mouth while she continued to churn her fingers inside me, igniting sparks of electricity as I started calling her name as if in a feverish dream.
“Ronnie … Ronnie … Ronnie,” I called out as the muscles in my legs stiffened, my feet pushing against the end of the tub and lifting my torso out of the water. Water splashed over the edge of the tub and onto the tile floor as I started to thrash, letting her fingers control the pleasure that washed over me.
I stilled, and as the water settled, there was only the noise of my ragged breathing.
She kissed me, this time more languorous than the last. Her fingers, most recently inside me, she tasted, and then let me taste, a sweetness mixed with a hint of the scented soap.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she said, helping me out of the tub.
I stood there and let her dry me, patting a warm towel against me. Once dry, she let her robe fall open, and in the confines of her bathroom, I first saw, and then felt, her naked body pressed against mine. I held her, perhaps tighter than I should have, as we each clung to the hope that our being together would act as the salve for the deep wounds we both carried.
* * *
Ronnie’s bedroom was much tidier than the last time I visited her. She pulled back the covers on the bed and dropped her robe to the floor. The years of substance abuse had made her leaner, but otherwise had done little to take away from the voluptuousness of a mature woman.
She beckoned me to lay next to her, and spent the time studying my face and running her hands up and down the length of my body. I did the same with her, feeling her womanly contours — the curve of her hips, the softness of the crook of her knees, and the slight sag of her pendulous breasts, getting to know her and her body as intimately as possible.
“I love touching you Jacks. Just feeling the softness of your skin makes me want you. I’ve wanted you from the moment you sat next to me at Rusty’s those many months ago,” she confessed to me as she touched her finger to my lips.
I sat up. “You have a funny way of showing it Ronnie. I didn’t know whether you wanted to make love with me or have your little dyke beat me to a pulp.”
She pinched my nipple, making me shudder. “I’m a different person Jacks … so different after Alex left us. I’ve been lost … looking for something or someone … maybe it’s you.”
My eyelids became heavy, wanting to close them, yet wanting to keep them open so I could look at her. Lustful desires overtook my ability to carry on a deep conversation.
“Please Ronnie … please fuck me … I can’t take this teasing anymore.”
Her index finger went inside me, probing again for the “G” spot, and rubbing against it lightly. My legs clamped shut, holding her hand in place. She forced her thumb upward, using it to circle my clit and causing me to arch my hips. I moaned as she continued the slow burn.
“You let me know if this feels good … open up for me babe,” she told me, wiggling her hand.
I relaxed my legs, freeing her hand. Her index finger, now wet and slippery, wandered lower, touching my anus while she continued to use her thumb to tease my clit. My nether hole clenched around her finger, telling her that I wanted her to continue. She worked the lubed finger inside me, massaging the wall between my pussy and ass, causing sparks to fly across my closed eyelids.
“Fuck Ronnie … I … I … fuck … don’t stop,” I implored, as she used her finger to work my asshole open, allowing for deeper penetration. I’d tried anal intercourse before, but this sort of anal play was new to me.
She placed her knees on each side of my head, putting us in a “69” position. Her finger, still embedded in my ass, started to draw in and then out as she flicked her tongue against my clit. I immediately arched my back, stiffening, as I felt the rumblings of a different kind of orgasm from the anal stimulation.
The pad of her finger was pressing up against the upper wall of my rectum, massaging the smooth, slick wall while she sucked hard on my clit. The movement of her finger and her flittering tongue triggered a molten hot climax, making me lift my hips off the bed and carry her with me.
My mouth opened and nothing came out. Just a strangled gurgle as a shock wave of pleasure ignited. Sensual attraction. A floating sensation. My pelvic muscles contracting. A glorious release. Liquid dripping from my pussy.
This wasn’t just sex … she possessed me … owned my soul for those few magical moments … where time was suspended and all I could do was surrender my body to her and let myself get carried away into a blissful repose.
The emotional release was too great. I started to cry.
She came up on me and held me close. “Don’t cry honey … it was beautiful.”
She touched me down there again and I shuddered in her arms.
“Shit … it felt so good … your finger was so deep in my ass …” I confessed to her, trying to regain control of my breathing.
She stopped playing with me for a moment. Reliving where she had just taken me gave me another shudder. “You made me cum … it was so intense … I couldn’t stop it.”
“I know Jacks,” she told me. “It’s how …”
She stopped herself.
” … Alex liked it …” I said, completing her thought.
“Yeah … Alex,” she repeated back. Would Alex’s ghost forever haunt us?
* * *
We rested for a while. Ronnie was showing me the toys in her nightstand. The clamps I saw earlier were nipple clamps. She also had some Velco restraints and a riding crop tucked away in her drawer, in addition to three vibrators of different shapes and colors.
“Toys for later,” she said. “We need to get comfortable with one another before we try these.”
We were both sitting up in the bed, naked, with only a sheet covering our lower halves.
“Show me,” she said. “Show me what you know and what you think you know.”
I loved it when Bridgette was on top of me, in a “69” position. I asked Ronnie to do the same. Her sex was right above my mouth, and I could see that the hairs of her pussy were already matted with a dewy moisture, the smell rich and musky. I gripped the cheeks of her ass and pulled my head upwards, burying my face in her sodden sex, smearing her juices on my cheeks, and lapping at her creamy pussy.
“Whoa partner,” she said, lifting off my mouth. “Slow down … enjoy the journey … there’s no timer here,” she assured me. I was so horny I couldn’t help myself.
I started again, giving her slow licks, and using my fingers to tease her anus, seeing it wink each time my tongue touched her clit.
“That’s it Jacks … yes … just like that.”
I continued the slow dance with my tongue, watching her squirm as the licks intensified and I worked my finger in her ass to the first knuckle. It felt so good to tease her powerful anal ring, pressing against it and seeing her blissful reaction and the hard muscle tensing and squeezing my finger.