Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ginnie enjoyed spending time with Grace, the pregnant little cat. Determined not to miss the birth, she spent the quiet times of day, in between feeds and visits and litter cleaning, in her enclosure with her. After the cat’s initial interest wore off, however, and she retreated to her cushion for a snooze, Ginnie would find herself getting a little bored.

Today seemed repressively hot, and beads of sweat trickled down between her breasts. Ginnie flapped her shirt up and down, creating a breeze. Her skirt was uncomfortable, too, and kept riding up between her buttocks. As she rearranged it, she remembered the secret toy she kept in her handbag for emergencies, and felt a pang of desire between her thighs.

She pulled out the travel vibrator, shaped like a bullet, turned it on and surreptitiously hid it up her skirt and inside her knickers, positioning it on her clit. If anyone were to come in, which was unlikely, she could switch it off and pretend it was the fan, making strange noises. She sat back against the wall and let the pink buzzer massage her aching clit, manipulating it with her thighs. This was what she needed. She leaned into it, pretending it was a cock, a hard, strong, vein-throbbing cock, and that its owner - whoever that was - desired her more than anyone else in the world. She was the goddess, and her slaves all longed for the honour of fucking her. That was it, everyone desired her, you weren’t a man unless you’d been allowed to lick Ginnie’s pussy, to slide your tongue between her folds and flaps, to suck gently on her clit, and to insert a finger inside her cunt. And though Ginnie was a generous goddess, she chose her consorts wisely. She’d get them all to unzip their flies and then she’d choose the cock that most appealed to her; the biggest, hardest and strongest cock available, and then she’d deign to place it in her mouth and lick it and taste it and suck it, until finally she’d allow the man to slide it inside her and, following her instructions, bring her to orgasm, forgetting his own until afterwards. The thought of a man holding his own pleasure back for her, then squirting out his cum in uncontrollable desire was enough to trigger Ginnie’s orgasm, and she threw her head back, groping both her breasts as she let the waves of pleasure caress her, like cooling water from a fountain.

Her orgasm over, Ginnie switched off the vibrator and gave the cat, who’d woken up and was looking at her suspiciously, a guilty grin. The next thing she knew there were footsteps rushing towards her. It was Nigel.

‘Ginnie! What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’

‘Nigel! I’m just sitting with Grace, that’s all.’

‘You were doing a lot more than that, I can tell you. Didn’t you know about the webcam?’

‘Webcam?’ Ginnie faltered, her heart pounding.

‘I had it installed so that people could follow Grace’s pregnancy. Right there.’ He pointed to the corner opposite her. ‘I had no idea you’d be making movies of your own, though.’

‘Don’t tell me it went out?’ Ginnie felt that her throat might swallow itself whole. Then it could swallow the rest of her and have done with it, she thought.

‘Luckily for you I managed to switch it off before it got too obvious what was going on in here. Really Ginnie, how could you?’

‘I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, Nigel. I just - it’s the heat, it’s getting to me. I’m not myself these days.’

‘May I suggest you go home. I’ll get someone else to do the evening feed. And I’m not sure I want to see you again in the morning.’

‘Oh Nigel, please, no. What about the campaign?’

‘Do you really think you’re the best person to represent Tiggles now?’

Ginnie shook her head, determined not to cry in front of her tormentor, then she gathered her belongings and quietly left Grace’s enclosure, with Nigel following behind. Neither of them noticed the little cat suddenly lurching forward, and the first of four healthy kittens emerging from under her tail. Once it had plopped onto the floor, she turned to lick it, gently and with love, unseen by her hundreds of followers, or by those who cared about her the most.

***

‘It’s tomorrow your mother arrives, isn’t it?’ Nathalie asked Anna. ‘You might be needing this.’ She handed her a bottle.

‘Never I have prepared for a visitor with less relish,’ Anna admitted. ‘What is it?’

‘Lavender, rose, mandarin and vetiver, to counteract anxiety,’ Nathalie told her. ‘Just pour some in a tissue and inhale as necessary.’

‘Or I could poison her with oleander. Let’s have a glass of wine.’ She opened a bottle of white and, finding it not as chilled as she’d like, popped a few ice cubes into each glass. ‘You look tired. Are you all right?’

‘I just slept badly, thanks. I’m fine. You know you can always come to me any time she gets to you?’ Nathalie accepted her glass. ‘This is hurting me too. I won’t see you.’

Anna was touched to hear those words. ‘It’s such an invasion,’ she said. ‘I wish she’d just stay in a hotel.’ They chinked glasses and each took a sip.

‘Let me massage you,’ Nathalie suggested. ‘Get that tension out of your shoulders.’

She started kneading Anna’s shoulders as they both sank to the floor. Anna felt herself dissolving into Nathalie’s touch, forgetting her anxiety as a wave of desire washed over her. Nathalie’s presence was cleansing, it made everything seem OK. She turned to kiss her, and their lips and tongues met, and, as with all the other times, it still seemed like the first time, special and new. Nathalie unbuttoned Anna’s blouse and unfastened her bra, releasing her breasts and cupping them in her hands, before dropping down to kiss her lover’s neck, throat, chest and nipples.

‘Do you want us to go upstairs?’ she whispered.

‘Let’s stay here. I want to know we’ve made love on the sofa where the old bag will sit, and that every piece of furniture in this room has a smear of us on it somewhere.’

They giggled and Nathalie unfastened Anna’s skirt, pushing her onto the sofa before pulling her knickers to one side and plunging her tongue there, lapping and probing and teasing. Anna sighed, sinking into the sofa, her legs apart, and Nathalie knelt before her, tasting her, savouring her and swallowing her juices. She stopped for a moment to take a sip of wine, but retrieved an ice cube too and, holding it between her teeth, gently ran it the length of Anna’s pussy. Anna gasped as the cold hit her, and when the cube fell out of Nathalie’s mouth, her tongue replaced it, feeling gloriously warm by comparison.

‘Oh God, let me try that on you,’ Anna said, her voice hoarse with lust, and Nathalie got up, quickly pulled off her summer dress and sank on top of her, so that her pussy was over Anna’s face, and Anna took an ice cube in her teeth and ran it along Nathalie’s pussy, and when it fell away she replaced it with her warm tongue, and the extremes of cold and warm set Nathalie alight.

They moved into soixante-neuf on the sofa, licking and teasing and fingering each other’s warm cunts, and Nathalie pulled off Anna’s knickers entirely and lifted her buttocks right up, snaking her tongue down her perineum to the dry crinkly entrance that tasted of soap and must, and she licked her there while Anna did the same at her end, then both applied pressure to their clits, two fingers of one hand inside their pussies until their orgasms took over, one by one, and they thrashed and cried and rejoiced and ached that this would be the last time in the near future, and possibly even the last time of all.

A naked and defiant Anna then smeared her fingers, wet with her lover’s juices, on every chair in the room, before falling back in her lover’s arms, and inhaling the soft, sweet scent of her skin.