Warnings: femmeslash, implied sex

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The sweat pours down your face, streaming little rivers that soak through the skintight outfit that you had picked with great care earlier this evening.

But you don’t care; you hardly even notice, because tonight you’re here for a sole reason.

She’ll be here soon; you know this for a fact, from many other nights spent waiting. Everyone in here waits for her, but she only comes for you. A new beat thumps in your chest and again you’re swept up into the crowd of bodies that are beyond dancing, they are worshipping the sounds flowing from the speakers with the sensuous movement of their bodies.

Your green shaded eyelids are shut and your brown eyes are rolled up; you think your arms are raised above your head, but it’s difficult to tell up from down in this complete sensory overload. The only things you know you can be certain of are the music and the heat. And her.

Because suddenly she’s there. Without looking you can feel her presence, even before she trails her fingers along your bare midriff, like ice against the overheated surface of your skin. The sensation sends shivers up and down your spine as you twirl around to gaze into her amused eyes, dark with the passion you can feel pounding through your bloodstream, pulsing in time with the music.

A small half-smile plays on her burgundy lips as she leans closer to place them just a hairbreadth away from your ear. She exhales, her warm breath playing across the sensitive area and you groan with the effort it takes to not lose control right there on the crowded dance floor. Your arms rise to circle her neck, pulling her closer, tighter against your body, until her every curve is pressed so close to yours that you think it impossible for there to even be space for air between the two of you. Neither one of you had stopped moving, unconsciously following the rhythm present in the air, but now she leads the movements, her hand gripping your hips, occasionally running a thumb over the exposed skin just above your low riding jeans.

Even with your eyes shut from the high her touch creates, you can imagine how the crowd looks at the pair of you, her deep purple moving against you in light blue, perfectly visible even in the darkness. They have stepped back to create a circle of space around you and her and half are staring with awe because that’s how they always look at her, half with envy because that’s how they always look at you.

The song isn’t over, but neither one of you can hold onto your self control any longer. This need for liberation has been building all week, and as she guides you to the back door without releasing your hips it finally boils over and her lips are crashing onto yours.

The next thing that registers in your mind is the cold leather of the backseat of her car pressing into your bare back, your shirt lost somewhere. But she kisses you again and you suddenly don’t care.

If her lips are warm against yours, her hands are on fire as they trail over your skin, probably leaving scorch marks as they move around to your back. You gasp when she undoes the clasp of your bra, and she uses the opportunity to slip her tongue in and probe the dark recesses of your mouth.

She breaks apart and leans back on your hips, watching your half naked form attempt to catch some air in your lungs, and you watch her with half lidded eyes, waiting.

There’s a lull, a silence, before it explodes into a brilliant firework of passion.

Your hearts, pounding loudly in time with each other, construct the underlying beat that every move follows. Your erratic breaths, little gasps, and loud moans form the harmony that enhances her melody of whispers in your ear. This music is more pure, more passionate than anything inside the club and it reaches its climax with you shouting her name and a white starburst behind your closed eyes.

Afterwards you both lie entangled in each others’ limbs, slowly regaining control of your breathing rate and heart rhythm. She is lazily pressing kisses to your neck and your hand is running through her silky hair. The sweat cooling on your bodies makes you sticky, but neither of you are willing to move from this perfect embrace, a pocket of calm in your normally hectic lifestyles.

After several minutes – maybe days, weeks, years; time has no meaning in this sacred place – you tilt your head to catch her mouth in a languid, exploring kiss, filled less with passion and more with love. Reluctantly you pull back just enough so you can speak, but she can still feel your breath on her lips.

“I should get going.”

She makes a soft disappointed mewl and whispers, “Don’t leave. Stay the night at my apartment. With me.”

Desperately, you wish that there were some possible way for you to acquiesce to her wish and spend an entire night in her gentle arms, taking the opportunity to explore every inch of her skin, to articulate all the love you feel for this woman without using any words.

Instead, you tenderly run a hand down her cheek and whisper, “You know I can’t. My mom is probably wondering where I am right now.”

“Let her wonder,” she murmurs against your skin. “You’ve been a legal adult for six months, so tell her back off.”

You sigh softly, because you’ve had this conversation so many times, and each time it gets harder to turn her down. “You know I can’t do that either. She has all my money for college. But think, in two months I’ll be at the university, and we can do whatever we want.” You suggestively trail your hand down her back.

She smiles, a wide, brilliant smile that is radiant like the sun. “I know, it’s just, I want you so much sometimes.”

You kiss her again, tasting a myriad of emotions on her lips – disappointment, resignation, need, hope – because it seems the most appropriate way to end this conversation, the most appropriate way to say goodbye, I’ll miss you, I won’t be able to stop thinking about you.

It’s ten minutes later – you know this to be true, because time has once again invaded your sanctuary – and you’re standing outside the driver’s side door of her car, trying to pull away from her.

You’ve got your fingers threaded through hers and you squeeze your hands together. “Next Friday?” you whisper.

“I’ll find you.” She places one last soft kiss as she unlinks your fingers to start the car.

You bite your lip as you back away from the revving engine. “I’ll wait for you,” you murmur and wave a little as she drives away.

You watch her car until it turns a corner and is no longer visible, and then sigh with longing. It’s time to go back to the real world, you think as you head back to where your car is parked.

The wind chills you through her borrowed sweatshirt, and already you find yourself missing her heat, her love, her music.

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Words: 1214

This was really an exercise in detail for me. I realize I often do more “telling” than “showing” so I tried to “show” everything going on. And really, I needed to write some fluff.

Reviewing is good for the soul.

Crystalline Lies