Part 18 (1/2)
”Thank you.” The gown had already slipped from her shoulders when she rose, and she held it to the front of her as she removed her watch and bracelet, then her earrings. She didn't know if the exposed curve of her back and hint that the dress would fall to the ground if she let go was anyone's definition of s.e.xy. All that mattered was that her body made Linda's gaze follow her with hunger and desire.
”You're teasing me.”
”Am I?” Marissa let the gown slide to her waist and she slowly removed her bra.
”You know you are.”
”Is there something you'd rather I do?” She let her bra fall from her fingers and s.h.i.+nnied the dress farther down until it rested just at her hips.
”G.o.d, no.”
”I don't want my dress to wrinkle.” Turning her back, she lowered the dress until she could step out of it. She would bet money Linda's gaze was on the white silk panties she wore, and she smiled to herself. No one had ever made her feel as powerfully attractive. She hung the dress in the closet and finally turned around. Linda had taken off the T-s.h.i.+rt, and for a moment Marissa couldn't breathe.
”Yummy-yum-yum. Worth waiting for.”
Recovering her wits, she crossed the short distance to the bed. ”One last thing to take off.”
”Need help with that?”
”Oh, yes.” Marissa adopted her best impression of a Southern Belle. ”Why, I just can't figure out how to take them off all by my little lonesome.”
”Easy.” Linda practically purred as she slid to the edge of the bed. ”You use your teeth.”
Linda's unrestrained intensity never failed to melt Marissa's confidence into an ache of desire. No longer the stalking tigress, she felt abruptly the prey. Linda first nipped at her thigh before she bit into the front of her panties and pulled them down. Marissa cupped Linda's face as heat from Linda's breath seemed to float over her entire body. With a s.h.i.+ver of delight, she helped lower her panties until they pooled around her ankles and she could kick them off. Linda opened her arms and Marissa settled into the shelter of their encircling strength.
b.r.e.a.s.t.s, stomachs and thighs melted together as knees sorted themselves out with the ease of familiarity. The scratch of Linda's nails along the inside of one thigh drew a low moan from the back of Marissa's throat.
”Is this what you want, Marissa?”
She nodded, gaze locked with Linda's. When Linda dipped between her legs, Marissa felt herself falling into the well of Linda's eyes. Entwined on their sides, Linda seemed intent on kissing Marissa until morning while her fingertips teased lightly. It was as languid as their lovemaking had been feverish the night before. With each new kiss and whispered affection Marissa grew more and more frantic for Linda's touch inside her.
”I love the way you can move for me,” Linda whispered. Her hand s.h.i.+fted and Marissa felt the long, welcome stroke of her fingers. ”I love the way your body feels against mine.”
With a sudden spasm, Marissa arched hard against Linda. The layers of sensation that radiated out from Linda's hand brought a tingle of electricity wherever her skin touched Linda's. There were stars behind her eyes, then all of that light folded inward until she glowed from the inside out.
”We could go to the lip sync contest,” Marissa offered sleepily quite some time later.
”Sure.”
Marissa knew that voice. Linda was asleep, but her brain's autopilot would mumble appropriate responses if Marissa kept talking.
”Will you get me a s.p.a.ce shuttle for my birthday?”
”Sure.”
Marissa laughed softly to herself, then rose to turn out the lights. She studied the sweep of Linda's hair over the pillow before faint moonlight from the porthole replaced the last lamp's glow.
She slipped back into the circle of Linda's arms and melted at the warmth of Linda behind her. ”Go dancing with me tomorrow night?”
”Sure.”
”Marry me?”
”Sure.”
”Love me forever?”
”Abso-freaking-lutely.”
”You're not asleep.”
”I was.”
Marissa fondly tickled the arm around her waist. ”Thank you.”
”For what?”
”All the tomorrows.”
Linda pulled her a lithe closer. ”Finders keepers, sweetheart. You're mine now.”
Lip Sync Karin Kallmaker ”She's doing a great job selling that song.”
Dishra turned from her adoration of the woman on stage to give Brandy an agreeing smile. ”It doesn't hurt that there's a strong resemblance. Add the wig, dress and the real Mariah Carey's voice, and she does put on a perfect illusion.”
”You work wonders with the wigs. Peggy Lee is perfect.”
Her focus back on the woman moving like a diva in the spotlight, Dishra said, ”Wait until you see ABBA.”
Brandy chuckled appreciatively as she moved on. Dishra hoped she got hired by LOVE-she was a delight to work with. Then she forgot all about such matters as ”Mariah” exhorted the crowd to shake it off, all the while strutting in five-inch stilettos and a body-molded gown that left little to anyone's imagination.
Certainly it left nothing to Dishra's. Oozing s.e.x appeal, lip syncing with confidence and dancing with abandon, the woman on stage moved like a real G.o.ddess. Dishra had always had a thing for Mariah. She'd always been convinced that if only Mariah met the right woman, she'd be singing an entirely different tune. Dishra had always believed, from the time she was about twelve, that she was the right woman for Mariah.
The crowd was into the number, cheering at the defiant, ”Baby, I'm Gone” and applauding madly as the contestant left the stage. As she breezed past Dishra she gave her a look that was pure siren. All that exuberant lesbian energy in the room- Mariah seemed to have gotten infected. At the door to what served as a quasi-dressing room, Mariah gave her one more look over her shoulder.
Heart pounding, Dishra got Peggy Lee into position, checked that the blond page boy wig was still on straight, then followed Mariah into the chaos of the room set aside for Love's overflow use. The steady pulse of ”Fever” followed after her even when the door had closed. Appropriate, she thought.
”Thank you for all your help,” Mariah said. She put up a hand to remove the wig, but Dishra caught it and pulled the surprised woman deeper into the room. Behind the stacked high boxes of T-s.h.i.+rts and CDs for sale, she found a dark corner and pushed her personal diva up against the wall.
”I don't care if this gets me fired. I want to make you sing for me.”
Mariah resisted until Dishra's lips were on hers, then the fever seemed to catch her too. Somebody had loved Mariah wrong, and Dishra was going to love her right.
”Yeah, kiss me,” she whispered, and Dishra was happy to oblige.
The sun was lighting up the daytime from the stage speakers when she felt Mariah's hands on hers, guiding them around her hips to her a.s.s, then up to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Dishra's head was spinning.
That soft, sweet voice asked, ”How did you know what I wanted?”
It was not a moment to be shy. They didn't have much time before she had to get ABBA lined up for the stage. ”I've always known what you wanted. And what you needed.” She yanked up the dress and ma.s.saged die soft insides of two perfect thighs. She worked down the pantyhose just far enough, then boldly pushed her hand in.