Chapter 5

“She used to dance competition,” says Kayla. “She’s been teaching me.”

“I guess you’re going to have to dance with me tonight, love,” says Anita. “I don’t think even you could compete with her fake girlfriend.”

When the number is over, Tiff leads a round of applause. We all stand as Allison catches sight of us. She leads the other girl – Natalia, I think she said her name was – over to our table by the hand. It transpires that the cost of Allison’s good deed continues to escalate. This dinner was supposed to end her status as the dark-haired girl’s fake girlfriend. Now the commitment has been extended by a few weeks, until the girl’s friend’s wedding. Allison’s clearly irritated, but isn’t blaming the girl for the way the drama is spiraling.

After they leave, we gossip for a few minutes about Allison’s predicament, but we don’t see a way to rescue her. She should be back with the correct wedding party tomorrow. If she needs to call a war council we’ll be there for her. I know how close Anita is to her, and she won’t want to see her getting into more trouble.

Dancing follows. None of us are dancers in the way Allison and her new friend are, but some of us – well, me – don’t dance at all. I feel self-conscious on the dance floor. I always have.

Since everyone at the table is a couple with the exception of Monica and me, we’re naturally each other’s only option as a partner. She persuades me that I’ll enjoy myself even if I just stand in one place, so I let her lead me onto the floor. She’s right. Plus, I’ve consumed enough of the ten-way wine split that I don’t much care about making an idiot of myself, so I do, and find that I don’t feel at all like an idiot. Especially when Monica guides me with her hands on my arms.

Eventually, Monica announces that she’s heading for bed. Since I’ll be deprived of my dance partner, it makes sense that I leave at the same time. Even so, Tiff gives each of us a speculative look.

Monica steps toward me when I enter her room. Her fingers meet the gap between my top and skirt, skimming over my skin to meet at the center. She hooks one of them into my skirt and pulls me close.

“Are we allowed to kiss?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah?” Monica seems puzzled.

“We didn’t earlier,” I say, “and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to push for more. It’s just sex, right? Tomorrow we head in different directions.”

“It’s just sex,” Monica agrees. “Are your inner thoughts leaking through again?”

“Maybe,” I admit, “but you asked me to stay the night, and there doesn’t seem any point in me going home at two a.m., so there’s that.”

“The rules are different when we’re away from home,” Monica says. “And isn’t it expected for the bachelorette guests to indulge in some hanky-panky?”

The front of my top is held by narrow straps that pass over my shoulder and under my arm, leaving my back bare. Monica draws the straps forward, and the upper panel slides down, the built-in bra cups beginning to fall away.

“We should buck the trend,” I say. “Let’s indulge in a lot of hanky-panky.”

Monica grins and tugs the panel down. Her hands fit around my newly-exposed breasts as she lowers her face to mine. And oh my fine goddess why did we not kiss earlier? My panties are already wet from her passion. Well, okay, the way she’s playing kitty biscuits with my boobs is probably a confounding factor.

Since I helped Monica get into the dress, I know where it fastens. I have it open and sliding off her body within thirty seconds, and her bra fifteen seconds after that. Monica hasn’t been idle, so when we fall to the bed we’re both wearing only hose and panties, which take a little longer to remove without damaging.

Then she’s on top of me, her larger, more powerful frame pushing me into the bed as she kisses me into complete submission. Her thighs are between mine, her body curled enough to push her pussy to mine as her hips buck, thrusting her into me, and my butt into the mattress.

“God, I wish I’d brought a strap-on,” she mutters.

“I… don’t think they carry them at the gift shop,” I offer, weakly. “But you feel… fucking amazing anyway.”

She chuckles. “Good enough, I guess.”

And it’s more than good enough, as her sex rocks against mine, and her firm breasts dig into mine, which shape themselves around them. I begin to moan in short order. She doesn’t let up. She doesn’t tease me. She is in command, and she takes me hard. I break my lips from hers when the uprush of passion makes it hard to catch my breath, then cry out as my body hits overload and my climax rips through me.

“Fuuuck….” I groan. Her movements have softened to a rocking motion, her sex caressing mine. I move with her, even after my orgasm wanes.

When I’ve had a moment to rest, I attempt to roll Monica onto her back. If she resists, I know, I could be pinned under her for the rest of the night. Not a bad place to be, I guess, but not what I want. Fortunately, she accommodates me, though she drags me onto her and kisses me soundly before letting me seek my own goals.

I move down to suckle her left breast. Her nipple hardens quickly beneath my tongue. Her sex is slick with arousal when I lower my fingers to it. I draw a gasp from her when I stroke her clit, then I push two fingers into her and begin to thrust.

It isn’t long before Monica is writhing beneath me. She must have already driven herself into deep arousal against me. I suckle her other nipple into hardness before moving lower. She’s panting, and the highly toned belly ripples as muscles keep tightening. With my fingers still inside her I suckle her clit.

Now that I know she can come more than once, I want to try for more. When I can sense from her sounds that she’s approaching orgasm, I ease off, caressing her clit gently with my tongue. She pants and writhes, then her belly contracts as she approaches her peak.

Her muscles spasm as her sex clenches around my fingers. I leave them in place, slowing their movement, but not stopping. When I feel the contractions begin to wane, I suckle hard again, thrusting my fingers into her.

Monica groans for a moment at my stronger touch, then suddenly her passion seems to catch fire, and she begins to pant. I feel her body twisting beneath me, then my fingers are clamped inside her again as she cries out my name. “Fuck, Diana!” she wails.

I expect her to stop me, but she doesn’t, at least not immediately, so I keep going. Her cry this time seems almost a shriek when she comes hard for a third time. Her whimpering after this climax sounds to have the edge of complete enervation.

Sure enough, she rolls away from me, bringing both legs together and curling into a fetal position as her hips continue to twitch, reflecting her inner spasms before her climax subsides. Then she relaxes onto her back as her breathing slows.

“Jee…” she begins to say, then stops herself. With a small grin, she says, “Cranberries! You must be popular with the ladies. Are you single?”

“I am,” I say. “Did you decide to propose?”

Her burst of laughter seems improbably strong, given her current exhaustion. “No,” she says, “but if anyone could tempt me, you’d be high on the list.”

I skip off to the bathroom, absurdly proud of myself at her words. Also proud when she moves much more slowly to take her turn. Though she is six years my senior… I raise the sheet for her to slip into bed beside me.

The shower is big enough for two, which we have to prove to ourselves. It takes us long enough to be convinced that we’re fifteen minutes later to breakfast than we’d told everyone. From the looks we get I’m pretty sure everyone knows what we’ve been up to. Only Tiff gives me a surreptitious thumbs-up. Of course I still suspect Tiff of plotting our union when she tossed us together for the couples package.

Even if the group was inclined to see drama in Monica and me hooking up, which is unlikely, it wouldn’t compare to Allison’s. She’s finally back with the group and she’s recounting the entire story. At least she had an interesting time. Given her position as something of an outlier in this group it could have been a less appealing trip for her. As it would have been for me, if Tiff hadn’t paired me up with Monica.

When I return to the breakfast buffet, Heather corners me. “You know she isn’t local, don’t you?”

I’m puzzled for a moment. Why would that be a concern? Then I realize what she’s saying. “Oh, we’re not together.”

Heather raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, we’ve been together, but only for the weekend. She doesn’t want a girlfriend.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“I’m not going to spoil an amazing weekend wishing anything could be different,” I say. “I knew what we were doing.”

“Okay,” Heather says. “She’s my aunt. I’d feel responsible if inviting her caused problems. If you’re okay, that’s great. We were planning to take her up to the falls this morning. Do you want to come?”

I shrug. “You haven’t spent much time with her. I’ll stay with the others.”

Picking up my dress, bag and toiletries from Monica’s room, I repack them in my room, then check out, dumping my case in my car. With no more responsibilities, I spend the morning with the group in the pool. Mostly with Allison, since we’re the two singletons. Much of Allison’s work as the other MOH is ahead of her. She’s nervous, and giving up time to her accidental commitment is making her more apprehensive. I don’t know her well, but I think she may be worrying needlessly. She seems efficient, and I do know Anita, and she wouldn’t have asked her if she didn’t think she’d be fine. I tell her she’s welcome to call if she needs support, and I reassure her as much as I’m able.

We swim until lunchtime.

All of us gather for lunch. Monica returns with Heather and Margot. We toast the wedding, six weeks away, with soft drinks, then the planning Allison has ahead of her, and Tiff’s planning for this weekend. After we eat, I manage to get Monica alone.

“I wish we had time for a quickie before we go, but I already gave up my room,” I say. “I still think you’re goddess-level hot, and I’m still having trouble believing I got to spend so fucking much quality time with you. Or is that so much quality fucking time?”

Monica laughs. “Inner thoughts?”

I grin. “Yeah, well. I regret nothing.”

“Neither do I,” Monica said. “You know, if you find yourself in my area, I wouldn’t object to spending a weekend in bed. Give me your number.”

I do. She enters it into her phone. “That wouldn’t count as not having time or a relationship?” I ask. My phone pings with a text from her, so that I have her number, too.

“You’d have to let me know in advance so I could rearrange my schedule,” she says, “but I think it’d be worth it. Don’t you?”

I expel a laugh. “I think I said that already. Goddess-level hot, remember? Same applies for me, though,” I say. “I’d love the chance to get you back into bed. I don’t see any likelihood that my single status is going to change, so if you want to clear your schedule for a weekend, you’re welcome to visit. I’ll even pick you up from the airport. Bring your strap-on.” I frown. “You know, I don’t have a plus one for the wedding in six weeks. What would you think to…?”

Monica gives me a considering look. “I would seriously give that some thought. Text me the details.”

Though we can’t have that quickie, we can share a farewell kiss, and we do.

If she doesn’t want a relationship, I’m fine with that. I still feel privileged to have had her these last two days. Hell, we barely know each other.

But if our future includes occasional weekends of mind-blowing orgasms, well, I’m totally there for it.