Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition Page 12

  "Ahh," Pietro groaned, finally, before Stormy's mouth even made contact. "¡Sí, sí, sí!"

  As she shared her own sounds of delight, Stormy again surrounded the length of Pietro's cock with her mouth. If possible, he tasted even better while making some noise. It provided the extra spice which made a good meal great. For the sustenance of passion, Stormy mused, skin could not be beat.

  Knowing that this time she'd allow him to come, Stormy held nothing back. All the primary ingredients combined—lips, tongue, throat, hands—into a harmonious symphony of sensation. Pietro pumped into her mouth, well beyond that want/need threshold; his song now almost continuous. He traveled on his own inexorable trajectory, falling into surrender.

  As there was now no stopping—or even slowing—his approach, Stormy just held on tight as he landed with a monumental splash in the sublime waters of release. Her tongue felt the pulses that just barely preceded hot waves crashing against the back of her throat. As they ebbed, Stormy returned to where she started—gently licking and sucking Pietro's glans—causing tremors to surge through his body until he could take no more and pushed her away.

  * * * *

  Stormy reconnected with the others just as they entered the restaurant for lunch. The rain stopped while they ate, and they spent the remainder of the afternoon thoroughly exploring the Park's other attractions before taking in a late dinner and returning to the B&B.;

  Even though exhausted from all the days' physical activities, Stormy took a long shower and forced herself to pack. By the time she finished, it was again raining. Her room, sandwiched between those of her traveling companions, echoed with the sounds of both couples responding to the downpour. Through the open window, the cool night air caressed her bare legs, and the drumming of the rainfall stirred her imagination. Sleep was, for the time being at least, completely out of the question.

  Surrendering to the music of the night, Stormy allowed herself to relive the wet, wild, and wonderful encounters of the past three days. Her hands retraced the paths so recently traveled by others, kindling the fires of memory. She could feel the cool moss from the bank of the pool at the base of la catarata against her bare back. The smell of cinnamon mingled with the sweet sweat of an epiphany. The taste of caramel skin filled her mouth as her eyes beheld a ballet of raindrops on the tinted glass of a moon roof.

  Their hands danced over her entire body. Five pair. Fifty fingers. Missing nothing as they left searing trails of torment in their wake. Stormy tumbled into a roaring collage of recollection that could only be extinguished by allowing it to burn—furious and fast.

  She filled herself with her own fingers, beckoning, as her thumb sought the seed of her manumission. In a kaleidoscope of kisses, their lips took over. Tongues of fire licked at her breasts, in turn tough then tender as they led Stormy steadily toward her zenith.

  Impaled, times three. Taken in every way while her nipples were bitten by those who knew precisely when pleasure became pain, and when pain became pleasure.

  In the orgiastic inferno, Costa Rica called to her, over and over: ¡Entrégate! Give yourself to me.

  "I am yours," Stormy whispered into the night as she burst into flame.

  * * * *

  She woke at dawn feeling very refreshed and eager to get started on the journey home. Each spent the quiet and uneventful trip back to San Jose lost in thought and memory. Stormy hated to say goodbye, but they swapped e-mail addresses and promised to share their pictures. Thanks to the Internet, no one was ever far away anymore. Her flight departed on schedule, and by late afternoon, she arrived back in Pittsburgh. With a pang, she wondered if the rains fell at that moment in Costa Rica.

  After collecting her mail and her cat, Stormy returned home. Her world appeared in more vivid color, as if a veil had been lifted. Everything seemed just a little bit brighter, a little bit clearer, a little less grey.

  Apparently the power had gone out during her absence, because the digital clock flashed and the "record greeting" light on her answering machine blinked for attention. Stormy wondered if she'd lost any messages. After listening to four recorded sales pitches, Della's voice came on.

  "Honey, I hope you had...um, fun. Call me when you get in. Things are nuts here." Stormy had no way of knowing when the message was recorded, because the time was screwed up. She paused only long enough to grab a beer before returning the call. As she sat down at her computer, Della answered.

  "I just got home. What's up?"

  "Please hold," Della chimed, and Stormy assumed there was someone at Della's desk preventing her from speaking freely.

  "Okay. I'm back. Sorry. What's-his-face was standing right here."

  Della continued, "They drew lots this week. You know, for the order of presentations? You're first."

  "Oh, no fair!" Stormy shouted. "But—no problem. I'm gonna knock their socks off anyway. Just wait."

  "I didn't tell anyone where you went," Della assured her. "Not a soul."

  "Appreciate that. I really do. When this is over, I'll buy you dinner with my big-ass bonus check," Stormy promised.

  "Deal," Della said, hanging up with a laugh.

  Stormy opened her e-mail inbox and browsed through the hundreds of messages that had accumulated during her absence, deleting the SPAM as she scrolled. One message caught her eye and she opened it immediately:

  Landed the contract to publish the official travel guide for Costa Rica! They tell me we'll be working very closely with the winning ad campaign team. Sounds promising. Arriving Pittsburgh late Sunday. See you soon.

  That added incentive was all Stormy needed to get right down to work. Abandoning her e-mail, she got out her sketch pad and pencils.

  * * * *

  A palpable tension filled the office on Monday morning. Thirty-five proposals rested on easels around the vast conference room, each covered by a top sheet. Their owners hovered nearby, making sure no one got a sneak peek, although the time for revisions had passed. Everyone seemed on edge; even the most senior staff appeared cagey.

  An entourage of business suits arrived shortly before nine o'clock, and Stormy caught a glimpse of Charlie—looking much as he had in the Charlotte airport only one week earlier. One tumultuous week. So much had changed.

  At precisely nine o'clock, a hush fell over the room. Everyone took their places. They planned to circumnavigate the room, viewing the proposals one at a time. Stormy, thanks to the "luck" of the draw, was first in line. Best to get it over with, she told herself, since an anxious sweat already trickled down the back of her neck.

  The group of a dozen suits approached, expectantly. Stormy briefly looked each in the eye, getting a discreet wink from Charlie—who brought up the rear—before throwing off the cover sheet to reveal a detailed sketch of a woman's back from neck to thighs. A wet sarong clung to the curves of her ass, and a hand rested on the small of her back. In the background, the outline of a map of Costa Rica could just barely be discerned. Above, one word: Come. And beneath, the slogan: Wetter has never been better. In small print at the bottom, the address www.rainyseason.com, which Stormy had the foresight to reserve over the weekend.

  A stunned silence filled the room. No one moved. Stormy could hear the ticking of the clock. The two suits in front glanced at one another, some indeterminate signal passing between them. A hand was extended, then another and another. Her colleagues—one by one—began to applaud as they symbolically removed their offerings from the easels, ceding to Stormy's breathtaking effort.

  "Congratulations!" Charlie said when he could get close enough. "Ready to go back?"

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Katrina Dances

  © Moonlight Elf (Luna Fae)

  Katrina dances,

  Celebrating her birth,

  A daring and beautiful force

  Caught up in her own state of bliss.

  She jumps; a wave rises.

  She twirls; a waterspout appears.

  Her reckless dancing angers her mother, Gaia


  And drives her to tears.

  She prances unaware of where she is

  Closer and closer to land she dances

  To the domain of humans she comes

  Arms outstretched in innocent joy.

  In horror, watched the masses

  As the hurricane approaches them

  Destroying, mystifying, murdering

  Danced the daughter of mother earth.

  In desperation her mother cries out

  Katrina hears, and she stops her dance.

  But it's too late.

  It rains as Gaia weeps with sorrow.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Nouveau Soleil

  © Rebecca Leah

  Looking down at the crescent nail marks gouged into my hand, I made a rueful mental note to get Jina drunk before we took off next time. Turning my face towards the warm sunlight streaming in the window, I sighed. It had been far too long since I had been back. I could see the islands growing bigger across the clear bright aqua water. My parents started their second marriages together in front of a four-foot-five-inch island priest from The Island Church of the Heart on the porch of a small villa here on St.John.

  They had returned twenty years later, after retiring, to buy the same tropical bungalow. Now that they were up in the States visiting my sister and spending time with their new granddaughter, it seemed the perfect chance to come back. I hadn't been here since they moved five years ago, but I could still remember the feel of the soft sand of Cinnamon Bay between my toes and the smell of the garden after it rained. I wanted Jina to experience the same blissful feeling I got here, and I knew I would love it even more with her here, too.

  Kissing the top of her head as it rested on my shoulder, I debated about waking Jina to see the picture perfect beauty out the window. Yet, remembering what take off had been like and her fear of heights, I figured it would be better to let her sleep. Hopefully she'd be out all the way through the landing. The captain's voice came over the loudspeaker informing the passengers that we would be landing in about twenty minutes. Smiling into Jina's soft brown hair, I calculated that all the Jim Beam minis would probably keep her out for at least that much longer.

  Feeling Jina's head move a little in her sleep, I reached up to run my fingers through her hair to quiet her, loving the soft sigh that escaped her slightly open lips. As my fingers brushed the ends of her hair, resting on the tops of her round breasts, I regretted not having the chance to induct us both into the Mile High Club. Perhaps she'd be used to flying by the time we headed back to the States, and I'd be able to keep her awake to cuddle under the blanket. I was pretty sure if I got that far, I'd be able to convince her to come with me and squeeze into the bathroom. Images of Jina sitting on the counter as I knelt between her spread legs flooded my mind. For the moment though, I could set aside my need for her in the interest of her mental state.

  A small lurch in my stomach informed me that the plane was losing altitude. I glanced back out the window to see the sandy beaches and lush tropical plants of St.Thomas almost beneath us. I could already feel the hot air against my skin—wetter and more fragrant than the stale recycled stuff the plane was blowing on us. The captain came back on to ask the flight attendants to take their seats for the final descent. The ground came rushing closer, and I felt a thrill rush through me: I knew I was almost back.

  With a solid thump, the plane touched down and Jina's head shot up, blue eyes wide open. I could see the fear in her eyes and the tension in her body as her nails dug into the seat. I reached over to stroke a cheek and turn her face towards me, catching her eyes with mine. "We're here, that was just the landing," I said quietly, leaning over to kiss her lips softly. Pulling back, I whispered against Jina's mouth, "Welcome to the Caribbean, love. Look outside." I smiled as I leaned back in my seat so she could see past me out of the window.

  I knew she was amazed when she couldn't make one smart-assed comment about the bright sunlight. Grinning at the thought of Jina speechless for once in her life, I turned back towards the window. Her hand found mine and squeezed tightly, not in fear this time, but anticipation. As the plane taxied to the gate, she placed her hand on my knee and leaned over to look out the window.

  The neck of her tank top dipped open, and I couldn't help but stare at the pale skin revealed, contrasting with Jina's black satin bra. I wasn't sure if she realized what she was doing. Then my eyes shot up to catch the devious look in hers just as a hand slid up to the bottom edge of my short—but still decent—skirt. I squirmed slightly in my seat as Jina's fingers lightly traced patterns on my inner thigh, just above the hem of my skirt, out of sight of everyone else. I guessed that now we were back on the ground she was feeling better.

  She was still leaning over, pretending to look out the window, even though there was nothing to see other than the airport building. Reaching up to the nipple that was practically in my face, I gave into temptation and flicked it gently with my nail. I leaned towards her and whispered, "I'm going to have a hard time getting us through the rest of the trip if you keep that up." Running my tongue lightly around her ear lobe, I noticed Jina's fingers creeping higher under my skirt, almost coming up to my panties.

  The captain's voice came back over the system, vague in my ears, something about thanks for flying and have a good trip. The scuffle of people getting up and collecting their belongings finally broke through my hazy mind. I realized that people would start to notice us soon and pulled away from Jina, pushing her hand out from under my skirt. She looked slightly surprised at my movements, and I nodded my head to point out the people now disembarking from the plane. As she pulled back to gather all the stuff around her seat, I suddenly felt a wave of nauseous nervousness. What if she didn't like the island? What if she didn't like Nouveau Soleil? Hell, Jina didn't even like sunlight with her pale skin. Catching my breath, I fought down an urge to cry and busied myself collecting my books and other time wasters.

  Jina heard me and glanced my way. "You okay, baby?" she asked. I nodded mutely and her voice came again, this time full of concern, "No, you're not. Leigh, look at me. What's wrong?"

  I waved my hand to gesture that I was fine, but she grabbed it and pulled me around to face her. Her hand caressed my cheek; thumb wiping away the tear that had escaped. "Sweetie, we can try again. Don't worry. This vacation is to relax. The doctor said it was probably stress that kept you from conceiving." She kissed me gently and said, "We're going to have fun, baby. The rest of the world doesn't matter for the next two weeks."

  I nodded again, but remembering how sweet the doctor had been when the test came back negative made my eyes tear up more. I heard Jina sigh as her arms wrapped around me. I knew it was hard on her, too; and not least of all the work was how to comfort me. It was the third time we had tried artificial insemination and, despite my family's history of easily conceiving, I still wasn't pregnant. Feeling my tears against her neck, Jina stroked my hair and held me close, rocking gently.

  "Is everything okay, ladies?" The voice was quiet and sweet. Recognizing it, I looked up to see the flight attendant who had served us through the trip. We had talked a bit when Jina had been asleep, and she was full of understanding for Jina's nerves. Now she was gazing at me with a look of concern.

  "We'll be okay. Thanks, Elisa, for everything," Jina replied as I wiped my eyes.

  She nodded and smiled at us. "Have a good vacation. It's so beautiful here—and peaceful. Take care of her, Jina," she said to my love as she walked back to the front of the plane.

  Jina turned back towards me. "Oh, I will—always. Come on, baby. They want us off the plane and I, for one, want to get off it." Jina's joy in getting off the plane was obvious in her voice and forced a bit of a smile from me. She stood, grabbed her carry on bag, and reached for my hand. "My Lady?" she asked. That brought the full smile to my lips, and I lifted my bag as I reached for Jina's hand. She brought my fingers to her lips and kissed them, making me melt inside. She was right of course; this was a vacation and we
both deserved a break from our daily stress and troubles. Leaving my sorrow behind, I walked up the aisle and off the plane, waving goodbye to Elisa as we walked by her.

  * * * *

  We immediately adapted to "island time," lazily strolling towards the baggage claim while my fingers stayed entwined with Jina's. We got there long after all the other people from our flight. Predictably though, the luggage still hadn't arrived. Island time was a beautiful thing as long as you weren't in a hurry. Jina leaned back against a wall, and I leaned back against her with her arms around my waist. My arms draped over hers so my fingers could toy with Jina's rings, tracing around the edge of the one that matched mine. I let my head drop back to rest on her shoulder and tilted my head to whisper in her ear, "Hello, love."

  Jina smiled and squeezed me tight, bending her head down to nip the base of my exposed neck. A small shiver ran along my spine and her arms relaxed as she whispered back, "Hey, baby." Settling back in her arms I sighed happily. I knew we were almost there. Ten minutes later the bags finally arrived, and finding ours only took a second. The royal purple ribbons made the otherwise average black rollers stand out in a crowd. Each of us grabbed one and proceeded towards the customs area.

  "Still have the passports, baby?" Jina asked, teasing me since I had checked for them at least twenty times between leaving the house and checking in at the airport. I stuck my tongue out at her and pulled them out of my purse. Jina's eyes flashed as she leaned over to whisper, "Watch what you offer, my little slut." I felt myself grow hot at the memory of the spanking I had received after my last bout of petulant impertinence. Luckily, the line was short and we were at the counter before she could mention my now flushed cheeks.