The Ghostwriter's Words

Sara: Just One Rule

Sara had one rule. No matter what else she might do, she could never fall in love. That was the only rule. And for more than nine centuries, she hadn't broken it.

Then she kissed a girl.

Not an occurrence that had never happened before, but never like that. And far more innocently than those few occasions of the past. Sara was only looking for the toilet, not needing to go, thank goodness. But the Hashish smoke hung so thick throughout the room that she needed somewhere she could breathe and feared the music pounding in her head would permanently damage her hearing. She wanted to find someplace quiet enough to think. Her only clear thought, beyond her quest for silence and breathable air, was returning home in the morning and spending the following night back in Sammy's bed.

Then she collided head-on with another woman as they rounded the corner from opposite directions. Both had the wind knocked out of them by the impact but were more startled than hurt. Then all thoughts vanished, silence replaced the music, and the only scent that filled Sara's nose was those of the woman whose arms had wrapped themselves tightly around her to keep them both upright. Whose eyes stared deep into her own and through to her soul. An enchanting face and the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. Sara had no idea what those eyes saw in return, only that they held her entranced and refused to release her from their spell.

Sara could never have resisted what came next. Fate had arrived.

Without warning, the woman grabbed Sara's face, pulled her lips to her own, and Sara's world suddenly shifted on its axis. Her consciousness tore free of her body and hovered above them, watching herself lost in the moment's passion with a fistful of the woman's hair, and her free hand shoved deep into the nameless woman's jeans. Her fingers instinctively probed for that magic spot she loved to have touched until she heard a breathless gasp in reaction to her finding it, and only then realized the unknown woman's hand had found its way inside her own jeans and panties.

What the hell was she doing?

She must have asked herself that question, even if she couldn't remember. How could she not have?

If the woman Sara watched from above and recognized as herself had any doubts about what she was doing, they lasted no longer than a single synapse. She was kissing a woman! Who, at that moment, she wanted more than she'd ever wanted anyone! And, as she felt the movement of the woman's fingers, she was afraid she was about to...

What was the magic of that kiss?

In truth, Sara had no clear memory of who did what first. She could have been the one who'd initiated the kiss. Her hand may have been inside the other woman's jeans first. She only remembered that the woman made her come multiple times, still standing in the hallway where they collided, only feet from the dozens of others smoking hashish, dancing to the pounding music, or wrapped in embraces of their own.

And Sara was certain she'd returned the favor to the beautiful green-eyed woman without a name as they pressed tight against one another in the hallway, using a wall for support, more than once before either could pull away. She heard the right sounds, felt the physical reactions to her touch, and knew from her drenched fingers, when she finally pulled her hand free, that the woman had soaked through her panties and likely the crotch of her jeans. And Sara knew her jeans and panties were no better.

When they regained breath and composure enough to step back and observe one another more fully, without the need to say a word, they joined hands, both still slick with the other's juices and wafting the other's scent. Without asking, the woman suddenly pulled Sara through the house, promising to find somewhere more private, both giggling like a pair of naughty schoolgirls, afraid they were about to be caught.