Road Games Read online

  “Which are you?” the woman whispered, reaching around Marielle to cup her breasts in the palms of her hands before bending her head to place small bites across Marielle’s neck and shoulder.

  Marielle pressed her breasts hard into the palms of the woman standing behind her and moaned softly at the sting of the teeth on her skin. She was in that place just between pleasure and pain, and every nerve in her body screamed for more. Marielle gasped as the woman removed her hands from her breasts, splaying one against her stomach to pull her closer still before sliding long fingers between her folds to circle with perfect pressure against her swollen clitoris. It was a familiar dance, one that they had played on other nights after other games, and Marielle’s body tingled with anticipation.

  With one long stroke through the thick wetness between Marielle’s legs, the woman removed her fingers. She reached down to grasp the hard, curved object strapped between her legs, then moved it deliberately across the firm, round flesh of Marielle’s buttocks before sliding it insistently between Marielle’s labia.

  "Which are you, the victor or the vanquished?" the sultry voice repeated with each stroke.

  When Marielle didn’t answer, her lover placed a hand on the small of Marielle’s back, forcing her gently but firmly forward. “So this is how it will be,” she rasped.

  Marielle swept the marble forms from the table with one arm, barely noticing as they clattered loudly against the gleaming teak floor. Then she bent more fully, shivering with delight as her breasts replaced the scattered pieces against the cool jade mosaic. She spread her legs wider, groaning with pleasure as her lover thrust into her and began to stroke. Marielle lifted slightly, pressing the curve of her butt firmly against the woman’s mound. She heard a muffled moan behind her and glanced at her lover from the corner of her eye. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, and Marielle was certain she had found just the right amount of pressure to please her.

  They rotated their hips in mirrored rhythm, moving together in perfect unison as one pressed forward and the other back. Marielle felt the woman pushing harder into her and knew that her lover had arched her back to move even more deeply inside. One hand held Marielle firmly by the hip while the long, tapered fingers of the other reached around her once more to slide between her folds and thrum against her pulsating clitoris.

  “Which are you, the victor or the vanquished?” the woman demanded.

  “Both!” Marielle screamed as her body exploded in the liquid heat of an orgasm stronger than any she had ever known.

  Nota Bene: The opening quote is a paraphrase of a statement by Benjamin Franklin in his essay Morals of Chess written in 1779.

  Downside

  Nyrdgyrl

  It’s hot and I’m horny. Even in the twenty-third century, there are places where a woman shouldn’t wander unaccompanied, and this street looks like one of those places. Safety isn’t on my mind, though. Only sex, and I don’t have a lot of time to get what I want. Technically I’m AWOL, having boarded a shuttlecraft disguised as the ambassador’s staffer I’ve left dreaming in her quarters. Sometimes being a med tech is good for something other than saving lives. My rational side knows that I’m sunk if I get caught. A court-martial is definitely not part of my career plan, yet my desire is doing my thinking instead of my brain.

  My ship, the Tomasina, has been orbiting the planet Jabib for weeks while the captain and the ambassador negotiate to bring their government into alignment with the rest of the sector. Until a successful conclusion of negotiations, no one goes downside except for the Marines and the negotiation team. Unfortunately for my libido, I’m just a spacer, two stripes out of boot camp.

  The Marines are having a great time using the extended negotiations as R&R to alleviate their boredom with this assignment. The Tomasina is an embassy ship, strictly intended to transport the ambassador and her staff. The Marines on board provide security for our small contingent, and most of them yearn for more dangerous duty.

  In contrast, I enjoy my work. It’s safe and interesting and it got me off the hellhole mining colony I was born on. The only thing missing for me is regular company. Most of the women on board are either straight, coupled, or Marines. The Marines won’t mingle, the couples are exclusive, and the straights just aren’t curious. That’s left me and my trusty right hand for far too long.

  According to Sergeant Haran, the focus of most of my fantasies, the nightlife on Jabib is the best she’s encountered in this sector. After combat, sex, alcohol, and gambling are her three favorite vices and she says they’re available in abundance at El Kareen, a bar she frequents during her time off. After every trip downside, she comes back dreamy-eyed and sated, which makes my stomach twist with envy when she visits sickbay for a hangover hypospray. I want some of what she’s found.

  Desperation made me dose the staffer. Her name’s Sarah and she’s new and lonely and a little bit naïve. Her eyes lit up when I dropped by with a bottle of Montorian Port. We spent a pleasant half hour chatting before her voice slurred and her chin hit her chest. Seconds later she was out cold, so I tucked her in, borrowed some clothes and her ID, then boarded the next shuttle downside. It was a snap. She won’t remember what happened and if I’m lucky, I’ll remember tonight for a good long time.

  El Kareen is just like Sergeant Haran described it: flickering strobes bounce off mirrored walls and ceilings, making the room look larger than it actually is. Sweet-smelling smoke hazes the air, and before long I’m light-headed from the combination of the smoke, women, and perfume that batters my senses. I stumble toward the bar and order a beer. It’s stronger than what I’m used to but I swallow the first one in three large gulps. Wanting to stay sober, I sip the second while standing with my back to the bar and my head on a swivel so I can absorb as many sights and sounds as possible. A weight that’s been crushing my chest eases; it’s good to be back in the company of women.

  Three meters away a woman sits alone, nursing a neon blue drink. She sips, then the tip of her tongue darts out to clean the edge of the glass she cradles in her left hand. How I wish I was that glass. Between sips, the woman watches the dancers while tapping the fingers of her free hand to the beat underlying high-pitched wavering pipes. I’ve never heard music like this before, yet my feet twitch and my breasts ache for the press of a warm, supple body. She’s nodding in time with the music and her shoulder-length hair swings back and forth, back and forth, almost mesmerizing me when the strobes illuminate her face. Bolstered by beer, I approach.

  “Want to dance?” I’m speaking Standard while pointing at the dance floor. Puzzled brown eyes stare at my extended hand until her face lights up with comprehension. Dancing is better than I remember, pressed breast to breast swaying in time with the music. Every cell in my body jangles and I know that even though we don’t speak the same language, our bodies do. We dance, only stopping occasionally to refresh her drink, until my shirt’s as damp as my underwear. I switch to water so that I don’t miss a single moment. I want this woman and she wants me, if the way she’s sucking on my pulse point is any indication of her intentions. My legs turn to jelly when she maneuvers me into a darkened corner. We kiss and I gasp when our lips brush together. Her breath smells like apples and her lips taste like wine, creating a heady mixture that settles in my belly. Our hands roam under our loosened clothing while our lips are locked in wet, open-mouthed kisses. I’m finally, finally going to have sex with something other than my own hand.

  The room falls away and the only thing I’m aware of is the way this woman feels in my arms. She unhooks my belt and slides her palm down my belly while scraping her nails against my skin. I know as soon as she touches me I’m going to come explosively. My hips thrust forward and my head arches back as her fingers inch closer and closer to the sweet swollen spot nestled between my thighs. Almost, almost...

  “What are you doing here?” My subconscious recognizes the voice and I snap to parade ground attention even though just a second ago I was on the verge
of gushing on a stranger’s hand.

  “Jeeter, I asked you a question. What are you doing here?”

  It’s Sergeant Haran, and even though the light is dim, I can see her pulse throbbing at the edge of her collar. She’s pissed, and the chill radiating from her pale blue eyes freezes the lust in my belly to a solid lump of dread. Starting at my feet, her eyes rake me from head to toe, taking in my rumpled clothing and flushed skin. I’m too scared to move, too scared to speak, and even though my body’s locked at attention, my mind’s scrambling for a way to escape. My dance partner’s disappeared and Sergeant Haran’s battle-hardened body towers over me.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  “I...I...” Sergeant Haran grabs my collar and hustles me down a darkened hallway. I stumble after her but my lowered pants force me to take four or five mincing steps to each one of her long strides. At the end of the hallway she palms a portal open, then pushes me into a room furnished with a single sofa.

  “Sit down.” I’m shivering and half naked, and Sergeant Haran sneers at my fumbling attempts to cover myself. I can’t think of a single thing to say that’s going to explain how I got here. She folds her arms across her chest and leans back against the portal blocking the only exit. There’s no way out of this mess. “Okay, Jeeter. I’m waiting. Tell me what you’re doing here.”

  I’m crying, so my story pours out in fits and starts. The only thing that might save me is the truth. She’s disgusted by my tears, amused by my lust, titillated by my interest in her as a sexual partner, and amazed at the devious way I got off the ship. When I’ve run out of words and stutter to a halt, the room is silent except for the sound of her pacing footsteps.

  Eventually she speaks. “That’s quite a story, Jeeter. Procuring ship medical stores for personal gain, assaulting and impersonating an embassy worker, abandoning your post, and who knows what else just because you were horny.” She smiles and shakes her head, then says, “You’re gutsy enough to be a Marine.” The twisted admiration on her face makes me almost believe she’s going to let me go until she says, “You realize I can’t let you get away with this, don’t you?” The small bubble of hope rising in my chest bursts and reforms that lump of dread.

  Sergeant Haran’s eyes are distant and she sucks her cheeks in silent contemplation. I can’t stand waiting. If I’m going to be court-martialed, I’d rather get the ball rolling.

  “What now, Sergeant?”

  “Huh?” Her gaze focuses and once again rakes me from head to toe. Surprisingly enough, instead of freezing me in place, this time it warms my belly and melts my body.

  “S-Sergeant? Wh-what are you thinking?” I’m shivering again but not from fear. My gaze is drawn to her broad shoulders and lean hips, and for the first time I notice the bulge tucked against her left thigh.

  She speaks slowly. “I’m thinking you’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to get laid and maybe I ought to accommodate you before I turn you in.” I’m stunned when she bends down and cups my breasts in her palms, brushing her thumbs across my nipples. Warring impulses fire and I can’t decide whether to pull away or press myself into her caress, so my body decides for me. I’ve wanted Sergeant Haran since the first time she sauntered into sickbay.

  “Wait.” She snatches her hands back and I lurch forward to grab her wrist. “If we’re going to do this, at least let me get undressed.” When she doesn’t look like she’s going to retreat, I stand up and do a slow striptease that raises her eyebrows and brings a flush of arousal to her cheeks.

  “Nice. Very nice. Show me parade rest, Jeeter.” Following her order, I brace my feet shoulder-width apart and clasp my hands behind my back, which lifts my breasts front and center. Sergeant Haran skims her hands across my bared skin, lingering in the areas that make me squirm and moan. Her touch is feather light and when she kneels to concentrate on my lower body, my knees quiver and I’m afraid I might fall. Instinctively I know better than to break position without asking.

  “S-Sergeant, I-I don’t know how much longer I can stand up.” She purses her lips and blows a warm breath at the juncture of my thighs. The quiver that races up my spine makes her laugh and do it again and again. “Don’t move until I say so, Jeeter.”

  “O-okay, Sergeant.” The pleasure is almost painful, and goose bumps pepper my skin wherever she touches me. Lights flash behind my closed eyelids and I sway like a wind-tossed reed, desperately trying to stay on my feet. When my knees finally buckle, she catches me in strong arms, then lowers my body to the floor.

  Her fingers torture my nipples, tweaking one and then the other until I’m panting and humping the air, desperately seeking contact with anything solid. “Had enough teasing, Jeeter?” When she lifts my legs to her shoulders I’m beyond speech, and the first hot swipe of her tongue against my clit freezes the breath in my lungs. She burrows in and I buck and scream until my throat is raw. I’m still throbbing when she lifts my limp body and bends me over the back of the sofa.

  “It’s my turn now, Jeeter.” Somehow I’ve missed it but she’s now naked from the waist down and her dildo brushes against my ass when she leans into me. I’m instantly wet again. One large hand holds me steady while the other guides her dildo against the length of my sex, gathering the moisture that’s flowing down my thighs. I don’t expect it but she’s gentle, easing the head of the dildo past my greedy lips and setting a rhythm that electrifies my hips. Soon I’m groaning and thrusting back against her forward thrusts until she buries herself so deeply I can feel her in my throat. She’s grunting and muttering, “Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come, baby,” when my muscles clench and grab her tool. My body flushes hot then cold, and I’m coming and gushing. After a final thrust she comes too, falling against my back and pressing my belly hard against the sofa. Amazingly enough, I come again.

  When my head clears, I’m stretched out on the sofa and she’s across the room buttoning and straightening her clothes. I’m weak and my limbs are heavy when I try to sit up.

  “Take your time, Jeeter. You can’t be in a hurry to get thrown in the brig.”

  My lips twist in a wry grin and I agree, “No, Sergeant, I’m not.” I’m still in trouble, but maybe my memories of the most incredible sex of my life will brighten my time under guard.

  I need to be cuddled and it must show on my face, because she sits next to me and cradles me on her lap. Sighing, I relax against her chest and am lulled to sleep by the steady lub-dub of her heartbeat. After a while she jostles me. “Wake up and get dressed, Jeeter, we’ve got a shuttle to catch.” I slide off her lap and fumble with my borrowed clothing, trying to press the wrinkles out with the width of my hand. When I’m dressed and standing before her for inspection, Sergeant Haran takes my elbow and leads me back to the bar.

  Nodding at the barkeep, Sergeant Haran asks for a couple of screaming orgasms and a beer. She bends down and whispers in my ear, “Thought I’d commemorate our evening together.”

  I blush hotly and the barkeep takes in my glazed eyes and mussed clothing, then erupts in raucous laughter while she mixes our drinks. She slides them across the bar and tells Sergeant Haran they’re on the house.

  “Drink up.” The sergeant pushes both mixed drinks toward me and keeps the beer for herself. When I hesitate, she quirks her cheek before saying, “I have to charge you with something. It might as well be drunk and disorderly.”

  I don’t know how many screaming orgasms I had or how many I drank but when I woke up, I was dressed in my utilities and facedown on a bed in the brig. My head throbbed and I knew that when I moved, I was going to spew the acid that was eating my stomach lining all over my cell. My memory of the trip back to the ship was a drunken collage of images culminating with my cheek pressed against the cold deck floor and Sergeant Haran looming over me with a satisfied smirk on her face.

  “You back with us, Jeeter?” I groan and swallow bile when I turn my head to see Sergeant Haran standing outside my cell with her hands braced against her hips and her smirk
firmly in place.

  I rasp, “Yes, Sergeant.” My throat is sore and my stomach sour, but a delicious ache between my thighs and in my limbs makes my suffering bearable. Though the trip back was a blur, everything that happened before is imprinted on my cellular memory.

  “Ready to get out? I’ve cleared everything with the captain.” She lowers the security screen and joins me in my cell.

  Moving slowly, I roll over until my feet find the floor and my head falls into the palms of my hands. Sergeant Haran’s laughter reverberates off the plated walls, spiking my headache and making me clench my eyes against the pain.

  Chuckling more quietly, Sergeant Haran dangles a hypospray off the tip of her finger. “Want some of this?” I peel my eyes open and extend my trembling hand—just one shot from the hypospray and my hangover will be all gone.

  When I reach out, Sergeant Haran draws back and tucks the dose into her pocket. “Sorry, Jeeter. Can’t have it. There’s always a downside to rash action, and this is it for you.” She stands up, then helps me to my feet, taking care to cradle me snugly against her side. If this is the downside, I guess I’ll just have to live with it.

  Two Under Par

  Erin Dutton

  “I scouted out the perfect place during yesterday’s round,” I whispered to Grace.

  “What hole are we up to?” Grace pulled her driver from her club bag and smiled.

  “Eight,” I answered, anticipation already pulsing through my veins.

  “Show me when we get there.”

  We were about to start the fourth and final round of the tournament. Currently in first and second place, we were paired together and stood waiting at the first tee. While Grace was occupied readying her clubs, I studied her.