A Matter of Trust: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance
And so far, the cabinet was coming together nicely. Morgan was excited, knowing how great it would look in her living room. She planned on filling it with her collection of Lladró porcelain sculptures she had bought during her various trips to Europe.
It only took another ten minutes before it was done.
“Ta-da!” Chloë exclaimed.
“Yay!” Morgan said, clapping her hands, admiring their handiwork. Well, admiring Chloë’s handiwork. Morgan had, after all, hardly been anything more than the flunky who handed over parts and tools, while trying her hardest not to spend too much time staring at Chloë’s shoulders.
After they had been working on the cabinet for a while, Chloë had taken off her Barrington High sweatshirt, revealing a grey tank top beneath it, one which showed off Chloë’s beautiful alabaster shoulders that drew Morgan’s eyes like magnets every few moments.
The two women carried the cabinet to where Morgan wanted it in the living room.
“Fabulous!” Morgan said, after adjusting it a skosh to the left a bit. She looked at Chloë, beaming. “Break?”
Chloë crossed her arms and gave her an are you kidding look.
“Break? We just started!”
“But we accomplished so much already!” Morgan whined. She pointed at the cabinet. “We built this!” She paused. “Well, you built this. Which means you deserve a break!”
“C’mon, Miss Banks,” Chloë said, taking Morgan’s arm. “That coat rack thing you bought doesn’t look too difficult. Let’s get that done.”
Morgan laughed and stopped on their way back to the foyer.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.
And why do I like it so much?
Chloë shrugged, an impish smile on her face. They were only inches apart, so close in fact that every time Morgan breathed in and her breasts rose, they brushed against Chloë’s. But neither woman moved.
“Does it bother you?” Chloë asked softly. “I can stop.”
“No!” Even Morgan was surprised by how forcefully she exclaimed that. “I…I was just wondering.”
That perfume. Of course, Morgan had smelled Sexy Secret before, on countless women. She knew she even had a bottle of it herself, bought who knows how long ago, before she began favoring Princess by Vera Wang. But why was it that Sexy Secret on Chloë smelled like a completely different perfume? One that was creating a stirring in her center that used to only be caused by particular men’s aftershaves?
I’m under a spell.
Because that was what it was feeling like.
“Are you okay, Miss Banks?” Chloë whispered. And did she manage to move closer?
“Yes!” Morgan assured her. But then she shook her head. “No! I don’t know…”
Suddenly, it was as if the world disappeared for Morgan. Everything about her life was gone and she was standing in a void with only Chloë as company. The house was gone, the sound of the heating unit which had been humming softly as it ran was gone, the stupid Ikea boxes were gone.
Chloë, an inch shorter than her, was looking up at her intently.
She feels it too!
“Oh my god,” were the last words Morgan spoke before reaching up with her left hand, cupping Chloë’s chin and then lowering her face to meet those pink lips with her own for a kiss.
Chloë’s lips…so soft and yielding. So unlike a man’s. And they tasted faintly of vanilla somehow. Men’s lips never tasted of anything seductive. Coffee, perhaps. Wine, maybe. Beer, most likely. But never vanilla…
Morgan heard Chloë groan, which made Morgan groan in response and press harder. Instantly, their arms were around each other. Morgan found her hands running up Chloë’s back while Chloë’s locked around her waist. Feeling Chloë’s breasts mashed against her own sent an electric signal to Morgan’s clit which then emboldened her to spear her tongue out, demanding that Chloë’s lips part, which they did immediately and now Morgan’s groan doubled as their tongues met and danced.
And how her body was responding to this!
Her nipples were bedrock-hard, achingly hard, the kind of hard that opened up that connection to her clit.