“God, how long has it been?”

Evangelia lounged on a low couch, framed in the grey of the early evening, sitting opposite a woman she hadn’t seen in years. “I was actually trying to figure out that same thing,” she mused. “I think you stopped taking lessons before I did, Yve.”

Yvette smiled that perfect smile of hers and widened her eyes with memory.  “Last time I saw you, you were still…”

“Younger.”  Evangelia flashed a smile of her own; one that was practiced, and worn to the side. “Thanks again for letting me crash with you, you’re doing me a huge favor.” Technically that was more of a half truth. These days, Evangelia’s company flew her all over the world and had, of course, provided her with a hotel.  Evangelia however, did not mention that, but instead reached out to brush appreciatively along Yvette’s wrist, the one that held her wine glass. 

“It’s honestly no big deal.” Yve shrugged to show her indifference, but as she did so the wide neck of her loose fitting sweatshirt slipped down below her shoulder, revealing tanned skin that sat stark against her blonde hair.  She didn’t bother to fix her neckline, but instead just beamed back at Evangelia and asked, “What time do you need to be up in the morning?”

“Early.”  That … wasn’t true either. Evangelia was on the second day of a weeklong conference, but she was “crashing” again elsewhere tonight; chasing other conquests in lieu of a bland and unimaginative evening in her anodyne little suite at the Ramada. “I’ll probably be gone before you wake up.”

“I don’t know, I get going pretty early.”

“How early?” Evangelia scrunched up her brow.

“I’m usually at the gym by five.”

“Five?” she smiled. “There’s a five in the morning?”  When Yvette only laughed at that, Evangelina looked down at her phone pretending to read something and continued, “My flight leaves at six so I’ll be long gone by then.”  She imagined sneaking out of Yvette’s house in the early pre-dawn hours, returning to her hotel to crawl beneath moderate thread count sheets, and grabbing some sleep before deigning to grace the conference with her presence sometime mid-morning. 

“What a pity,” lamented Yvette. In the amber light of Evaneglia’s memory, Yve was always bathed in something of a pinkish glow, hands outstretched and body rigid as she sat upright before the piano. But here in the failing light of Yve’s own living room, Evengelia saw something else. A soul who lay careless against the cushions, sipping at a glass of wine while shrugging her way out of a loose fitting sweatshirt. A woman who wore propriety like it was an article of clothing, one she was eager to take off.  “At least we’ve got tonight.”

“And a bottle of wine.”

“Half bottle,” Yve corrected.  “Unless you want to open another.”

And as luck would have it, she did.

***

They were midway through the original bottle’s successor when Yvette spilled a bit of red along the pleat of Evangelia’s pantleg. 

“I am so sorry,” Yve dabbed at the pantleg with her sweatshirt, bunching the end of her sleeve into a fist and managing to pull the neck of the thing even further down her shoulder, til the curve of her breast glanced out from the top of the cut fabric. “I should get a towel.”  But she stayed right where she was.

“I really don’t care.”  

She really didn’t. 

“God, I love these,” said Yve, admiring the fabric. She gave Evangelia’s leg a short look and a long squeeze. “I bet you walk into a meeting in something like this and just … command the room.”

That was true enough, and it was exactly what Evanglia was able to do with pants like these. To be fair though, it wasn’t the pants, nor was it the way she wore them. In actuality, it was the indifference with which she treated her clothes, whether that meant not flinching at spilled wine, or even leaving an expensive piece of lingerie behind after a one time tryst with a stranger.  Evangelia was able to command the room, as Yve phrased it, because she knew she looked better out of her clothes, than in them. 

“I’ve got something you can wear.”  Yve rose to one knee and looked off down the hallway that ran near the front door. “In fact I think they would look great on you.”  She lingered for a moment a few inches from Evanglia, her eyes returning from the door to land with a warm green glow. Then she smiled again, and stood, and disappeared down the hallway. 

Evangelia waited until Yve had gone before standing and stripping off her jacket. She tossed it casually over the back of a chair and retrieved her wine glass, carrying it with her as she perused the accoutrements of Yve’s living room, her heels making a funny little thump with each step she took along the coarse gray carpet. 

She sipped at the wine, and moved more quietly, and paused when she came to the remains of a bottle that sat atop the surface of a low shelf. The thing lay broken into four pieces; with cork and stopper still in place, and bearing the burnt contents of a hand-written letter. Evangelia raised what remained of the little bottle, holding it up to the light in an effort to make out any of the words that dotted the now shredded flecks of charred paper. 

But it was no use. 

She held the bottle regardless, and stared into it, imagining the curves of Yvette’s body as the woman sat at attention, writing in black ink. It was the same way she had once sat at the keys of her instrument – strong, and fluid, and sensual.  Evangelia knew what would come next; what would happen when Yve returned with a new pair of pants and the two of them retreated to her bedroom to try them on.  She knew it because it was what always happened once she decided upon it.  The same way she had known back when she’d first reached out to Yve about her impending stop into town, and the woman’s innocent little, “I’d love to see you,” that had followed.  Without realizing she was doing so, Evangelia raised her free hand, and undid one of the buttons of her top.

“Hi.”  

The voice came from her right, away from the hallway where Yve had vanished, and towards the kitchen and the garage. It was a man’s voice, and Evangelia nearly dropped the bottle, catching it at the last moment before returning it to the shelf. She snapped her head back to the man and kept her expression placid.

“You’re Yve’s friend. Evangelia? Is that right?”  When she only nodded, he set a bag of groceries on the counter and continued.  “Do you go by ‘Evangelia?’”

“What else would I go by?”

“I don’t know,” he said stupidly.  “‘Eva,’ maybe? Or ‘Angie?’ Or…‘Lia?’” He wasn’t nearly as funny as he thought he was. 

“Evangelia.” She gave a labored smile, one that was practiced and worn to the side. “Just ‘Evangelia.’”

But before she could bring the man lower with the weight of her gaze, Yvette returned and took her by the arm. “Oh hey, hon!” she called to the man before giving Evangelia a little tug on the wrist.  “Come try these on,” she said sweetly, before leading her down the hallway. 

Yve pushed the door shut behind them as they entered the bedroom, gliding it just short of latching.  She turned and held up a pair of shorts.  “I hate the way these fit on me, but with your legs I think you could pull them off.”

Until a moment ago, Evangelia had imagined pulling off all sorts of things, mostly things that Yvette was currently wearing. “Was that your-”

“My boyfriend,” Yve laughed. She waved at the air between the two of them dismissively and held Evangelia with her smile.  “Don’t worry about him. He’ll probably work the whole time you’re here.  I barely see him when he’s behind deadline.”

Evangelia took the shorts from Yve and held them up appreciatively.  They were… slightly shorter than short.

“I have a top that goes with them, too.”  Yve’s smile became mischievous as she turned away to dig through a drawer. “You can just slip into the bathroom if you wanna try them on.”

But instead, Evangelia undid the clasp of her pleated, command-the-room slacks, and let them fall softly to the carpet before stepping out gracefully in her heels. Then she undid the remaining buttons on her top, and let it hang open as Yvette turned around, clutching a camisole that matched the shorter-than-short shorts. 

“Ohhhh,” Yve’s smile stayed the same, but her eyes widened.  “Look at you.”  

Evangelia took a step closer. “Yeah,”  she intoned, “look at me.”  She folded her shoulders back and let the top fall to the carpet as well, then reached back to unhook her bra before lifting the shorts. “These will barely cover my ass.”

“I don’t mind,” Yve giggled. “The top doesn’t cover much either.”

But Evangelia caught Yve’s hand that clutched the camisole, holding it in the air between them.  Evangelia thought of the young woman that had reluctantly and rigidly commanded the keys of the piano, and then imagined holding that girl just as commandingly by the wrist.  She raised her other hand and brought it to the skin of Yvette’s waist, just beneath the loose fitting fabric of the sweatshirt. 

It was happening.

Yve bit at her lip and let her eyes go wide in a naive smile.

Because she decided upon it.

Evangelia’s hand worked its way up along the taut little muscles of Yve’s stomach.

Because she wanted it.

The tips of her fingers were careful to slide along the edge of Yve’s breast, refusing to dive straightway into the life giving portions of the flesh.  For her part, Yve dropped the camisole and froze, tilting her head to one side and letting her eyes roll back slightly at the sensation of Evangelia’s touch.  

“Oh,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.  Her hand that wasn’t locked in Evangelia’s grip raised involuntarily, stroking firmly at the lean muscles that held her captive. “Oh,” she gasped again. 

“Oh what?”

“Oh… I think I like that.”

“Good.”  Her hand moved further up, emerging from the cut top of the sweatshirt to take Yvette firmly by the side of the neck.  She envisioned pressing that young woman against the piano, in a room where no one existed but the two of them, and when the look on the girl’s face went wild at last, she leaned in and brought her lips against Yve’s own. 

“I…” began Yve, but then she raised her own hand to the back of Evangelia’s neck and plunged into the wetness of her kiss.  The piano was gone, along with the rigidity, and reluctancy, and rules. All that remained was the two of them, as their lips pushed back and forth in dance that had no music.  “I… please yes…”  The words became a rabble, as Evangelia pulled her wrist down, until Yvette’s hand that had offered her a top, now explored the bottom. 

“You’re wet,” Yve said quietly, pulling away from the kiss. Her eyes remained close to Evagelia’s own.

“So are you.”  She shifted slightly, letting her panties fall down to her heels. Then she again took Yve’s hand firmly in her own, and guided it into her.  “Hard,” she commanded quietly.  “Like this.”

“Oh my god,” smiled Yvette.  Evangelia could feel the woman’s fingers playing at the inside of her.  

“Harder.”

And Yve obliged, cupping her hand into a curved hook as she pressed firmly at the little bump that lived just inside the entrance to Evangelia.

“What is that?” whispered Yve excitedly.

“That’s me,” she answered, but her breath had begun to come in short gasps.  “Just like that.”  Yve pushed a little harder, a little further, and Evangelia found her own hips arching back slightly to accommodate the angle of the woman’s arm.  “There,” she gasped, forcing herself to keep a modicum of quiet.  “Yes there!” There was almost no need for the exclamation mark, but for the weight that she felt behind her words.  “Ah!” Her hips retreated further from Yve until her round little ass stuck out pointedly in the air behind her.  “Yes, just… a little harder…”

And it was here, on the border of annihilation, with Yve prodding her firmly over the edge, that Evangelia felt another set of hands along her hips and buttocks, and froze as the pleasure was coaxed from her in a mix of water and wailing. 

***

“What the fuck?!” Evangelia stood and straightened, then turned herself around to see a man; Yve’s man.  “What is he doing here?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Yve was at her back now, but she kept hold of Evangelia regardless, with one hand about her waist while another stroked playfully at her hair. “Why are you here?” She levied the words at the man but let them slide just past Evangelia’s ear. 

“I thought you called to me.”

“No one called to you!” Evangelia said defensively. Her hands moved instinctively up to cover her breasts before she forced herself to lower them and stand defiantly in the arms of the man’s lover. 

For his part, the man just shrugged. “My mistake.”

“See,” Yve said quietly in her ear. “It’s just a misunderstanding.” She finished the words with a little bite that she left on the earlobe, even as her hand slipped from Evangelia’s waistline to trace the damp arch where her legs met. 

“If this is some sort of -”

“It’s not.”  Yve’s voice was calm, living gently in her ear. “I used to think about you, y’know.”  She pulled on the crest of Evangelia’s hip, turning her slowly back around until Yvette’s green eyes had replaced the sight of the man who now stood just behind her shoulder.  “I’d think about you at the piano.  You played… different.”

That wasn’t right.

Evangelia broke free from her gaze momentarily, her head turning in the man’s direction before Yvette’s hand raised and guided her back.  

“No. I watched you,” Evangelia stammered.

“Good,” Yvette smiled.  “You were wild, and reckless.”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You were. Maybe not like now, but…”  Yvette took a step backwards, guiding the two of them gingerly onto the high mattress and away from their invisible intruder.  “No one had to look hard to find it.”  Her hand was back between Evangelia’s legs.  “And I looked plenty hard.”  

Yvette coaxed her into a crawl, and Evangelia climbed forward along the mattress on her hands and knees, until she loomed in front of Yve on all fours while the woman knelt before her.  Yvette smiled at her as her fingers began to pump firmly once more. 

“I…” began Evangelia.

“You?”  Yve giggled. She was back at it, cupping her hand while she pushed and squeezed at the magical little bulge that Evangelia had helped her unearth.  “What about you?”  But Evangelia didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She was too wrapped up in the feel of Yve’s fingers as they coaxed the moisture to its breaking point.  “What do you want?” 

“Yeah, Lia,” came the man’s voice. “What do you want?”  Then her body shook in reluctant pleasure, as two sets of hands held her tightly.

“Feel this, luv. Just here.”

Yve’s hand met the man’s and slid his fingers inward.  

“No, not like that.  She likes it harder.”

Yve pulled the man’s hand gently from its purchase and replaced it with her own. 

“Like this.”

Evangelia wanted to turn and look, but someone was holding her firmly by the neck.

“Oh, like this?”

Holding her in place while she looked down into Yvette’s mischievous eyes.

“Yes, luv.  Just like that.”

There were hands within her, and hands without.  Hands that explored tenderly along the soft skin of her breasts, and others that pushed far too eagerly into her depths. The girl had never needed a piano…  

…her hands were made for better things. 

And there, in the grey of Yvette’s bedroom, looking better outside of her clothes than in them, Evangelia gave a silent acquiescence as she leaned into the inevitable sensation of it all, and rode the ocean of ecstasy on a crashing, violent wave. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!!”

The man’s hands left her insides and planted themselves firmly upon her hips.

“FuuUUUCKKK!!!”

All eyes were upon her. 

“FUCK… ME!”

“Is this what you came looking for?” asked Yve with a giggle.

Not quite. 

“No.”

The man held her securely from behind.  A piece of him, firm and curved like Yvette’s cup hand, came to rest on the skin that ran between her arched buttocks. She felt it slide down as the man held himself with one of his hands.  He glided the tip of the thing along her, never moving inward except for where her lips pushed apart and gave way to moisture.

“Is that too much?” Yve prodded.

“Noo!”

He held his tip at her opening, positioning it to kiss lightly where she dipped inward. His hands mingled with Yve’s along her hips and shoulder, before one of them took her firmly and slowly by the back of her hair. She flexed as she was pulled backwards, letting it slide in a short ways before it caught and the pressure built momentarily. Then he gave her a tug, and Yve gave a litle push. 

The man was silent but for a labored sigh that he released as his endpoint cleared her opening. The pressure of it stretched her edges just a little, so that she moved her hips forward instinctively, towards Yvette.

“Do you want him to stop?”

“Nooooo.”

“Then tell her to stop running.”

Yve still knelt in front of her, but she had lost her loose fitting sweatshirt somewhere in the pages of the story.  She crouched forward now, her bronze breasts framed above the skin tight leggings that held the rest of her hidden. She traced a finger down Evangelia’s lips, and along her neck, pausing as she helped the man hold her in place.  “Stop running,” she whispered with a smile. 

It was different than a finger of course, and so it hit her bump with a clumsy sort of enthusiasm.  Evangelia let her eyes slide shut as Yvette leaned in to kiss at her mouth that now hung open. 

“Are you going to keep trying to run?”

“NooooOOO!!!”

The two of them pressed her open a little more.  He was using his hips, taking only a fraction of an inch at a time.

“No?  No running?”

“NO!! NO!! NOOOOO!!!!!!!”

And then Yve laughed a laugh that Evangelia had not heard before. It was raw, and unapologetic, and rang with mischief and deceit.

For his part the man seemed content to let his cock explore her slowly.  “Is that all you’ve got?” Evangelina asked derisively. 

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” he laughed back.

Yve was talking to the man. “Is this what you want, luv?”

He laughed again. “As if you don’t.”

Evangelia rocked, and bucked, and arched her back into the air to make the whole endeavor more difficult.  That didn’t stop him of course, or slow Yve’s advances with her hands. But before Evangelia released the tension and let her stomach fall back down to accept it further, she lunged out with both hands, pushing Yve backwards into the pillows. She strippied the leggings in an easy motion, before burying her face between Yve’s bronze thighs. 

“Ohhhh…. nooooOOOO!!!” Yvette laughed, and stared at Evangelia from her back, over the crests of her own breasts. 

Evangelia’s hands held the woman by the waist as her tongue pressed firmly into Yve’s warmth. Behind her, the man had intensified his assault, releasing her hair to hold her firmly by the waist.  Evangelia dug in deeper, and lowered her hips, and pushed from both sides.  

She commanded the room wearing nothing at all.

***

By the time she got back to her room early the next morning, Evangelia had lost a pair of pants. She paused as she walked past the mirrored closet, catching her reflection from the corner of her eye and stopping to admire the curve of her own ass that peaked out from the shorts.  She turned, and looked at herself from over one shoulder, then spun back around and rose up to her tiptoes before standing flat once more. 

She let the shorts fall, along with the rest of her clothes, and gave herself a last little smile before checking her phone.  Tonight promised further adventures, ones that would play out as she had seen them, because she had decided upon it, because that was what she wanted.

Well, mostly.

She slid her bare skin beneath the sheets, finding the thread count to be higher than she had hoped.  Then she closed her eyes and dreamed of nothing in particular.