Emma was walking across the concourse of the Savoy hotel in Covent Garden. Her hips swayed and her head and hair followed them, but in a different direction. Her red heels clipped loudly on the chequered marble flooring. She walked between two gold-topped ornate pillars as she made her way to the lounge. She was so excited. The smile on her face was so broad it would have put Julia Robert’s smile from the film ‘Pretty Woman’ to shame.
As she entered the plush lounge she looked around for her lunch date. There was a noticeable absence of Angélique López, so Emma decided to take a seat at the curved bar. It never failed to amaze Emma at how plush and clean everything was in the hotel, even the bar. The patterned floor just glistened, the lighting above the bar was absolute overkill, and the electricity bill must have been enormous. Emma chose a seat where she could see the entrance and was immediately approached by a servant as soon as she started to sit on the green leather chair. The chair was pushed towards her as she sat.
The waiter, in his white tuxedo, framed with black silk around the collar and lapel and topped off with a black tie approached Emma. He smiled and nodded at her, his head twisted lightly to one side. He didn’t need to say anything. Emma ordered a Gin and Tonic, but not an ordinary one, nothing in the Savoy was ordinary.
The waiter shook the ice in a container, breaking it up into smaller pieces before placing it in the glass followed by the Gin and finally, the best Tonic in the world. The drink was topped with a slice of grapefruit and grapefruit essence was smeared around the rim of the glass.
Emma waited for Angélique. She smiled at the waiter as he placed the drink so elegantly in front of her. On any other occasion, thought Emma, I’d fuck him. Her eyes and smile may well have conveyed her thoughts, but the waiter moved to the next person at the bar and performed the same ritual.
Emma sipped her drink for the second time when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of white entering the room. It was the brilliant white light that sparkled from Angélique’s dress. She was walking into the bar area dressed in a white flowing lace dress, it was short for Angelique, as it was well above the knee but pinched so tightly at the waist. Ouch! Thought Emma, that must hurt.
Angélique smiled as she clasped eyes on Emma and the warmth of feeling was met wholeheartedly.
“Wow! Look at you,” said Angélique.
“You can talk,” replied Emma, nodding her head and pointing down to her asphyxiating waist.
As soon as Angélique neared a chair, the servant approached her and the waiter had already positioned himself in front of her. Emma waited for Angélique to get seated.
“A Campari,” Angélique instructed the waiter.
Emma’s excitedness overflowed every conversation they had, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. Before long, they had established that Angélique was still single, still living and working in Barcelona and still frequenting the same old bars and cafes.
Angélique had noted that Emma had transformed herself; dressing far more luxurious than she had done. She was wealthy, obviously, and she wondered whether that wealth was from her parents or self-created. Angélique didn’t mind either way. The fact was, she was here with Emma, and at the Savoy of all places.
“I’ve booked us a meal,” said Emma. “Shall we –”
Emma motioned with her hand towards the dining room and slipped her bum off the chair. Angélique did the same thing and both women headed for the dining room. They were escorted to their tables by another dashing waiter. The plush green leather sofa was curved and both Emma and Angélique slid along each side of it. Angélique looked up at the gold-coloured horse’s sculpture that she noted was in the form of a chess piece just above her head. The waiter deposited two menus and they both carefully considered their choices.
The conversation flowed.
The wine flowed.
The pleasure that both women felt at being in each other’s company, also flowed.
The five course meal took a while to get through, but as Emma had told Angélique, the servings would be small and she wouldn’t have to loosen the waist too far.
Angélique was wittering on about something that had happened recently when she noticed that Emma was not really listening. Angélique dipped her head and waved at the same time to catch Emma’s attention.
Emma caught her breath and bit her lip, “Sorry,” she said. Contemplation was evident across Emma’s face. She looked at Angélique for what seemed like ages. Remembering. Her eyes flitted across her face taking in all of her features, but they soon dropped to her breasts, and then, to what she could see of her waist below the table top.
Angélique waited for Emma to say something. Anything, the silence was frightening her.
Emma’s tone suddenly changed. “You look so beautiful. Gorgeous,” her voice reduced to a whisper in a futile attempt to prevent other people listening to what she was saying. Her eyes, however, were broadcasting her intent and lust for Angélique to everyone that caught them.
Angélique gasped and replied, “Oh! My dear, so do you. So do you,” shaking her head as she did so.
Both women seemed relieved at the exchange.
It had been a long year for Emma, she had learned an awful lot about herself, men and women and life in general. She had come to terms with her gift and knew exactly what it could do for her. Emma was no longer the shy, retiring, almost reluctant bi-sexual. Her first and only encounter with another woman was with Angélique, in that bar, in Spain. The one where she realised she had a gift that allowed her to leap across different histories; histories that she herself would create.
After that fateful night, she had decided to walk home with Angélique after all. She found herself being turned on by her lusty chatter. She found herself warming to her, and when the talking ran out, she found herself being seduced. It was a small price to pay instead of being fucked by three ugly guys in a stinking alleyway. It was also a price that she enjoyed paying. Angélique was wonderful, the best lover she could have had on her initiation into the fairer sex. Angélique complimented Emma several times on how good she was at oral sex, though Emma knew that she was only learning and that Angélique was just being nice to her.
Angélique’s strange combination of French mother, Spanish father, provided the mystery of her given name, Angélique López. She was educated with a doctorate in Japanese history specialising in the role of the Sumurai Warrior during Japan’s turbulent ancient history. Her interests in everything Japanese started with her Karate lessons and it just grew from there. She was lecturing at the Universitat de Barcelona and had been for two years before she ran into Emma.
Angélique had known she was different from an early age. She had known that she was not interested in men in the slightest by the time she started University, and that the lack of interest had come from the days when an early boyfriend had treated her like some rabid dog on the street; often kicking her after he had satisfied himself and come over her body. She vowed then, that men would never treat her like that ever again.
That was the time Angélique started to develop as a woman. At twenty five, she started university a lot older than most students would; she was also a lot wiser and fully into women. Of that, there was no doubt. Men just didn’t figure in her world at all, not in a sexual way that is, and if one so much as flirted with her, she would have chopped his head off, or worse.
After they parted, Angélique had conversed with Emma in a very unusual way given the technology they had. They were more like pen-friends, sending each other letters rather than emails or texts. It felt more distant, like they were very old friends and not new ones.
Still, after all that time, it was Emma’s letter to Angélique, coupled with a return flight ticket to London and the gift of a few days in the Savoy hotel, that swung it for her. She just had to meet Emma one more time.
“I’ve also booked a separate room for myself,” said Emma, smiling and lowering her head slightly to see if Angélique was in agreement. Emma thought it better not to take anything for granted. After all, they had only had one fling and that was over a year ago. But over the years, the contents of those letters lifted her heart, so much so that she took the leap of faith.
“Eso es travieso,” she replied. Raising her head, Angélique explored the intent in Emma’s eyes. It was an intent that anyone in the room could have read.
Angélique raised her glass and finished the remnants of wine from it. She got up from the table and offered her hand to Emma. Before Emma had chance to sit up and slip from behind the table, Angélique had picked up her glass of wine and finished that too.
“We had better go then, shame to waste a good room, in a good hotel.”
They hadn’t been in the room very long before Emma’s hands were up Angélique’s dress poised to pull down her knickers only to find herself disappointed that there were no knickers to pull down. Her hands rested on her hips and thighs as she wondered what to do with them next. She kissed Angélique right there, just as the door’s heavy spring allowed it to close tight behind them.
The ride up to the room hadn’t helped matters. As soon as they found themselves in an empty lift they started to kiss each other. They were gentle kisses at first, growing more substantial as the lift got nearer Emma’s floor. A hand was raised onto Emma’s breast; several moans, from both of them, escaped into the closed and confined area of the now slowing movement. The CCTV operator was having a spectacular view, thought Emma, and he would obviously be gutted when the lift stopped and they got out. No doubt he, or her, would switch to the next available video feed as they walked to the room.
In the room, Emma pulled herself upright and both women struggled to remove the tight clothes that the other was wearing. Shoes were flung off, handbags dropped on the floor; neither woman had worn a bra. It was with regret that Emma had felt the need to adorn her lower regions with a red g-string, while Angélique was now virtually naked, apart from her white lace holdups.
Emma kissed Angélique passionately on the lips as she pushed the girl over to the white lounger that adorned the base of the King sized bed. Emma noticed the London Eye in the middle distance through the window. The curtains were open and as far as Emma was concerned, they could stay that way.
The picture on the wall, of classy modern art, was exactly how her orgasm was going to look later on.
Angélique’s body was half draped on the lounger and half off. Emma sat beside her and her fingers came up on her pussy as their mouths clamped together once more. It was moments later that a finger had inserted its way inside Angélique. A second followed just as quickly and Emma started scissoring her fingers as she pushed them upwards.
With their mouths clamped together, they kissed, feverishly.
The pleasure Angélique felt from the sudden intrusion, soared upwards. Her head flopped backwards as she raised her bum off the seat and with one almighty push of her stomach muscles she shuddered and shook on Emma’s fingers. Angélique’s sex juices didn’t just leak from her pussy, a jet of cum shot across the room soaking the plush Afghan carpet that covered the wooden floor.
“Oh! Fuck, the carpet?” Cried Angélique, as she watched her juices flow in disbelief.
“Fuck the carpet,” replied Emma. “Wow! That was something else. I want mo –”
Her sentence appeared cut off as Emma thought about how good that was to watch and knew that it wouldn’t happen that way a second time so she immediately called in the reset.
Reset. Make History point, thought Emma.
Emma had made a decision to finger fuck Angélique as soon as she had lowered her to the lounger. It was a convenient point to come back to, she thought, but Emma was disappointed in herself for doing it. Something inside her triggered it and the only thing it could have been was the sight of Angélique squirting on the carpet. Emma wanted more of that, she didn’t want to miss it.
Angélique’s body was half draped on the lounger and half off. Emma sat beside her and her fingers came up on her pussy as their mouths clamped together once more. Emma lost no time in putting a second and third finger inside Angélique in order to make her come faster. Emma started pushing them upwards, but this time she knew that she wanted to watch it happen. Emma and Angélique shared the briefest kisses before Emma’s gaze was averted. She pumped her fingers into Angélique. Angélique’s orgasm approached much faster and Emma was flipping between watching her face and her pussy. Angélique’s head flopped backwards as she raised her bum off the seat and with one almighty push of her stomach muscles she shuddered and shook on Emma’s fingers.
“That’s it, fucking beautiful, fucking awesome,” said Emma, pushing her fingers up inside Angélique as her orgasm created the visual reward that Emma craved.
“Oh! Fuck, the carpet?” Cried Angélique, as she watched her juices flow in disbelief.
Emma smirked, she didn’t care about the carpet she wanted to be in a position to taste these juices, and soon.
Angélique surprised her this time and pushed her body up from the lounger. She strode to her handbag that was conveniently discarded on the floor just inside the door. Emma let her body flop onto the lounger as she watched Angélique cross the floor; carefully positioning her feet to miss the squelchy bits of the carpet. Angélique reached in to retrieve something from her handbag just as Emma called a second reset. Emma caught a glimpse of it and her heart fluttered.
“So sorry,” she uttered as her fingers once more slid up inside Angélique’s cunt.
“What for?” said Angélique.
Emma was apologising for the reset, but forgot that she had taken her thoughts between the two histories and the words had come out in the wrong one. It was too late.
“For wanting you so badly,” she said quickly.
Her fingers dug in deeply and she started to scissor them while pushing her hand in as far as it would go. Emma started to lower herself to the floor, giving her fingers that much needed extra length. She pounded Angélique’s pussy as she got closer to her goal. As soon as Angélique’s head flopped backwards and her bum rose in the air, Emma was on her knees; her mouth, so close to Angélique’s pussy, waiting for her prize. This time, she got it. When Angélique’s orgasm hit her hard, Emma removed her fingers from her cunt; her face was right in front of Angélique pussy, the wonderful source of all that nectar. Angélique’s juices tasted heavenly as they flooded across Emma’s face and into her mouth.
At least she had saved the carpet, thought Emma.
This time, Emma refrained from a reset. She had already glimpsed some of what the future was going to hold in Angélique’s bag, and now that she had tasted something so sweet and lovely, she wanted everything that was in that handbag.
Angélique swung her legs up and out of the lounger. She once more crossed the floor and strode towards her handbag to fetch her toy.
And what a toy it was, thought Emma, as she watched Angélique retrieve it. It was a toy that she had seen about three months previous when she had ordered a female prostitute instead of her usual men; though the term usual men, were becoming fewer and fewer these days as women were gradually taking over the lead. But the toy, the toy was so inventive, that it must have been made by a woman.
Emma watched with open eyes as Angélique inserted the Feeldoe inside her. The smirk on Angélique’s face was a picture and Emma knew that she was giving off the same vibes. Emma backed herself up the lounger and onto the bed, turning as she did so. Consciously she decided that she was going to get fucked by Angélique. She smiled at the thought. She looked over her shoulder at the approaching erection and eventually straightened her body as she knelt on all fours facing the wall. Emma came face to face with the picture of how her orgasm was going to feel, hung there, silently in its virgin white frame. Splashes of red and blue and yellow scattered over a canvas. This was how her orgasm was going to feel, an explosion of vibrant pleasure.
Emma closed her eyes. She moaned out loud as the Feeldoe pushed against her. The smile on her face matched her outgoing breath as she lowered her upper body to the bed. Angélique rubbed it up and down for a while before pushing it in fully and fucking her. Angélique’s hands came up on Emma’s voluptuous hips and pulled backwards as she thrust forwards. There was no finesse.
Emma’s body was fucked hard. The pleasure was felt by both women as the specially designed dildo did its work. Angélique could feel how Emma’s body was reacting, causing her to smile at the back of Emma’s head. When she knew that Emma was close, Angélique gripped her hard on the hips and thrust into her with rapid strokes. Emma’s orgasm was one of the best she had had. Her eyes rolled in her head. Her body shook with the aftershocks, and Angélique fucked even harder.
Emma didn’t want to but she couldn’t resist it. One more, she thought, before Angélique and her, had a normal evening.
Reset.
She never bothered with the history point, but she knew one would be made soon, by default. Emma relaxed into the position waiting to be fucked again. If only Angélique knew, she thought, and would she, dare she ever bring herself to tell her the truth.
Looking at the picture one more time, Emma smiled, as Angélique’s cock entered her one more time.
