Fast Lane

Shay felt a wet splash on her forehead and she brushed at it. She wanted to go on sleeping... she was melted into the bed. Even as she drifted off, she wondered how her bed had become so soft. And so wide.

There was another droplet, on her cheek this time. She wiped it away and cracked her eyes open. They felt as if they'd been soldered shut.

Anthea stood at the door to her bathroom, toweling her hair vigorously. Another drop from the fierce whirl of the towel fell onto Shay's face. She sighed. The toweling immediately stopped.

"Did I wake you?" Anthea asked. "I was trying so hard to be quiet."

"It's okay. I don't want to miss you getting dressed." Shay wished Anthea weren't wearing a bathrobe. All in a rush she remembered the abandon and oblivion of the previous night. She curled into a ball and smiled.

"I don't have to get dressed," Anthea said. A subtle flush crept up her cheeks. Shay felt a similar flush in her own body. She wanted to do it all again.

"Not at all," Shay said. "You're ahead of me by a shower, though." She sat up, glancing at the bedside clock. Eight-thirty. She had to be at work in three and a half hours. That left plenty of time for... anything. She sniffed. "I need one, too."

"Why don't you help yourself, and I'll make some breakfast."

Shay was glad of the promise of breakfast as she stood wobbly-legged in the shower. Anthea had left her absolutely drained. She felt as weak as a day-old puppy when she finally stepped out of the steam. She found another robe and followed a tantalizing smell to the kitchen.

Anthea was busily mincing green chilies next to the huge double sink. Shay decided that the island alone was bigger than the floor space of her entire kitchen. A copper bowl with what looked like beaten eggs stood next to a shallow copper omelet pan. "Spanish omelets?" From the porcelain crock on the kitchen island, Shay helped herself to a strawberry and dipped it into the whipped cream sitting next to them. Her taste buds went wild — tart, sweet, creamy, decadent.

"I hope you like them," Anthea said. "Would you rather have jack or cheddar?"

"I'd rather have you," Shay said. She gulped. That wasn't what she had meant to say at all. It was a little too early in the morning for high passion.

Anthea dropped the knife and flushed bright red. She picked the knife up again with a little laugh. "You've already had me."

Shay moved behind Anthea, wrapping her arms around Anthea's waist. "I mean to do it again." She felt her stiffen slightly, then relax.

Shay loosened the tie of Anthea's robe. The thin silk was far sexier than the utilitarian chenille Shay wore. She slipped her hands inside. Abundant and luxurious and so soft, Anthea's breasts filled her hands again. "I think you should probably put the knife down," she murmured.

Anthea answered with an incoherent sound, but when she turned to Shay she was empty-handed. Shay only had to bend her head slightly to kiss Anthea's nipples, to pull one into her mouth. She remembered what had made Anthea moan last night ... a gentle bite, followed by hard pressure from her tongue. The combination made Anthea moan this morning too.

"God, Shay, how can you do this to me?" Anthea threw her shoulders back and Shay took the gesture for encouragement and consent. She slipped to her knees. The dark blonde hair between Anthea's thighs was still damp from her shower, but the wetness was slicker than water.

Shay brushed it with her tongue. Anthea's fingers curled into her hair, gripping so tightly it hurt, but Shay ignored it.

"Slide up on the counter," Shay told her.

There was a clatter. Shay didn't know what had happened to the chilies and she didn't care. Anthea was perched on the edge of the counter and Shay took some of Anthea's weight on her shoulders as she feasted.