Two women stood in the kitchen looking into the living room. On the coffee table stood their latest purchase from their favorite sex shop, a board game still shiny with plastic wrap. The blond turned her head away from the game and bent gently to retrieve something from the refrigerator. Her perfect silhouette was contained within a deep purple dress that included a corset-like front and white trimmings. The skirt portion jutted from her hips in a downward diagonal that cut off abruptly above her white stockinged knees. She pulled a tray of grapes, cheese and crackers from the fridge.

The other, a skinny mocha-skinned woman, stared from the kitchen at the game apprehensively. She wore a silk dress patterned in gold and deep red that draped around her slender figure. Golden triangle earrings hung from her ears; a gold and white headscarf covered her head. Her body and expression were still like a statue.

"Sandy, can't we just make up in bed like we always do?" She pouted. "I know I messed up, can we switch to the making up part?" She reached out to caress her hand down the small of Sandy's back.

"Delorah," Sandy said. Sandy's long blond hair was carefully braided into a wreath around her head. She caught Delorah's hand from the small of her hourglass shaped figure and gently removed it from her own body. "Like we always do?"

"Okay, so I do mess up, a lot. I am just better at sex than I am at relationships. You know that. I told you that."

"And I told you," Sandy said, "It might be worth giving an actual try."

Delorah surveyed her partners’ full hands. "How can I help?"

"Wine please."

"Your wish is my command," Delorah said. She pulled a substantial bottle of Rosé out of their wine rack and two delicate wine glasses.

Sandy sat in their loveseat, her loveseat really, an heirloom covered with picturesque summer images.

Delorah lowered herself carefully balancing bottle and glasses. She was smooth as she bent her limbs; that was to be expected from someone who earned a living by controlling every muscle in her body. She was a performer, her job was to exude grace and joy while her body experienced pain. Something it inevitably did in her pointe shoes.

Delorah obtained a corkscrew from the wood and mirror coffee table and set to work opening one of the two nice things of the planned evening. There was wine; there was Sandy.

"I won't force you to play," Sandy said.

There was a small pop as the cork came out of the bottle.

"Could you read the description again?" Delorah asked, pouring a hefty portion of wine in each of their glasses.

"Shall I?" Sandy picked up the game and flipped it so the back faced herself.

The front had two figures holding hands with seven beams of colors aligned in specific heights of their bodies. Delorah glared at the artwork while Sandy read.

"This game's purpose is to intuitively in-tune your personal chakra your partners. There can be a special spiritual significance to sharing your mind, body and soul with your significant other. The seven layers of chakra provide seven different windows into who we are. By opening those windows one by one, it can re-calibrate your communication as a couple. By synchronizing chakras, couples should experience the benefits of increased connections and chemistry. Whether you are a young couple just discovering each other, or celebrating decades together, this game can invigorate your intimacy."

“Well I like that part. Not that I think we need to invigorate our intimacy.”

“Delorah, I need you to be able to talk to me,” Sandy said. Her blue eyes begged over the game. “If not this way, then some way.” She set the game back down on the table.

“I’m not going to therapy, my love.”

“Well I’m not upending my life to move to Las Vegas with a woman I don’t know if I can trust,” Sandy said.

Delorah reached out to take Sandy’s hand in hers. Her hands were warm and soothing. Delorah raised the hand to her mouth and kissed it. “I want you. And I want you to be happy.” She closed her eyes and tightened her grip around Sandy. “I most especially want you to be happy with me, but I will take your happiness over being with you if it comes to that.”

Sandy slid over in the loveseat into Delorah’s arms. “You make me happy.” She kissed her cheek.

Delorah turned her head and their lips met. Delorah’s lips were luscious and Sandy’s lips were sweet. The fire was in their kisses, even more so than before. Delorah was always like this after she was with someone else. There was a fire and passion tainted by the knowledge of what she had done and the fear of losing what she had. Sandy pulled away from the kisses, fighting her instinct to give in to that fire.

Delorah opened her eyes again. Seeing the expression on Sandy’s face, she picked the box up and ripped off the plastic. She handed the instruction booklet to Sandy and inspected the rest. Inside was a game board with a trail of different colors and symbols. There was a stack of cardboard game cards and tokens bearing the same symbols.

“Okay, so it looks like there are seven of them. Red is Root for stability and safety. Orange is the sacral which I guess means—” Sandy paused as she scanned the definition before continuing. “Sexuality and ability to feel pleasure.”

“Ahh, so this is mine.” Delorah picked up one of the orange colored tokens. She looked at it, then held it out towards Sandy.

Sandy glanced at the offered token. “Should I be giving you a red one then?”

Delorah shrugged, if you could call her elegant shoulder roll a shrug.

“Okay, Yellow is personality, Green is heart, Blue is throat.”

Delorah reached for the crackers and cheese from Sandy’s food tray. “Throat, how my food gets from my head to my body.” She took a bite of a cheese slice that was orange with light brown edges — smoked cheddar

“No, It looks like it’s more about communication.” Sandy said. She looked over at Delorah chewing, and reached for her own wine glass. She took a sip before continuing. “Indigo represents the third eye. Intuition and trust. Wait that’s indigo?”

Delorah peered over her shoulder at the sheet. “The color you’re literally wearing? Yeah, that’s Indigo.”

“I always thought Indigo was a little more teal-ish. This is purple.” Sandy looked a little sheepish.

Her partner began laughing. When Sandy giggled back at her, Delorah’s laughter grew. Smiling, Delorah asked, “Don’t you remember that powder dye photo shoot?”

“I remember being stained and having to call in sick from my day job the next Monday,” Sandy said. She laughed again, this time in earnest. Soon both women were laughing together fed by the contagious sounds of each other.

“I remember helping you scrub that dye off,” Delorah said. There was a sparkle in her eyes that were so dark it was hard to tell where the Iris ended and the pupil began.

“I remember there not being a lot of scrubbing in that shower.” Sandy added.

Delorah slipped another sip of her wine.

Returning to the instruction booklet Sandy continued. “The last one is Violet—that’s the crown which is supposed to be wisdom. I guess we when our partner lands on a color, we ask them a question from the card that matches that chakra.”

They played a couple rounds asking questions of each other and receiving honest answers.

—

“Root,” said the blond.

Delorah’s face was unreadable as she scanned her card for a corresponding question. “Do you find your job fulfilling?”

Sandy thought a bit, her facial expression altering as she thought. “Yes. Most days. Some days. It has good moments.”

“Really?” Delorah asked.

Sandy sighed and took another sip of wine. “What your thinking is, ‘Is my job as fulfilling as modeling was?’ Right?”

“No, I just—couldn’t do office work, you know?”

“Oh I know you couldn’t,” Sandy said with a smile. She topped off Delorah’s drink then her own. “I just know in the bank I’m helping people. Even if it’s small and they won’t remember my name, I feel like I help.” She tapped her hand on the glass. “I used to think dancing and modeling was my dream, but I just felt empty.”

“You mean hungry,” Delorah joked.

“I mean empty and hungry. I don’t have the fire to perform you do. I don’t feed off the crowds the same way.”

Delorah nodded and handed her the token she had earned for her question. She rolled the single die that landed her on a light blue space. “Throat.”

Sandy looked at her card. “I already know how you like your compliments. I don’t really need to ask about your creative outlets either, that’s the one thing you do communicate consistently. What’s a song that’s speaking to you right now, in your life?”

“I mean, you know my set list.”

“I know, but you act in a lot of them. What is something that keeps coming back in your head outside of work? What speaks to you?”

“Okay. Okay.” Delorah set her wine glass down and stood up. “This song keeps coming back haunting me. It’s just like—I know there’s somewhere perfect and I’m just not there yet.” She adjusted her dress slightly and paced a few times in the living room before an abstract art piece with various shades of blue. Catching Sandy’s face she smiled. Then she began to sing: “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high—” Her smooth alto was lower and richer than the original. She sang the whole song alternating between performing to the empty room and looking at the one audience member.

As the songstress sang about dreams coming true, Sandy felt tears well up in her eyes. If Delorah noticed, she gave no indication. She looked up at the ceiling abstractly as she sang about wishing to be up among the flying birds. By the time Delorah sang the last verse, Sandy was visibly sobbing though she tried her best to keep it quiet. Delorah, locked in her performance mode, kept singing until complete. When she stopped she saw Sandy’s tear stained face.

“What?” Delorah said surprised, “No, that’s not what that means.” She rushed to Sandy’s arms. She pulled her love into a comforting hug.

“No, it’s fine. You’re just so talented.” Sandy said. She smiled and tried to pretend the crying was gone, but it kept going.

Delorah pulled off her white and gold head scarf, revealing her naturally bald head. She handed the scarf to Sandy who promptly wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“That’s not the emotion I’m going for, my love. Longing, sure, but it’s hope, not sadness.”

Sandy nodded then took the time to carefully pull the tears out of her eyelashes. Her face was blotchy and red. When she pulled the handkerchief away her eyes reflected a bright teal color, a quality her blue eyes rarely reached without crying.

“You know you're beautiful, and I love you,” Delorah said.

“Yes, yes,” Sandy said. She let her hands fully drop back into her lap.

Delorah pondered what made her cry so hard with her song. She made strangers cry, occasionally, but this was surprisingly intense. “You know — you know that when I’m singing about wanting to be somewhere else, I’m saying I want to be somewhere else with you there with me.”

“Promise?”

“Why do you think I asked you to come with?”

“Because you were afraid to break up with me because you don’t have another place to live,” Sandy said, with another sniffle.

“Is that all?” Delorah said.

Sandy set her handkerchief down. “No. No, I don’t think that is all.”

“What then?”

“You have talent, Delorah. Real talent. You have a following now, you have a support network now. You don’t need to use your beautiful body to secure a gig.”

Delorah closed her eyes again and her largely passive face moved to a grimace. There was a little green poking through her eye shadow. “I told you that it’s done.”

“For now. And don’t act like you meant to tell me. You just admitted it when I asked.” Sandy’s voice had a slight bark to it, but she was not yelling.

“But I did admit it and I do feel remorse,” Delorah’s voice was raised in pitch as well. “Why do you think I’m here?”

Sandy shook her head and returned to the game. She tossed Delorah a blue token and rolled the die again. “Sacral.”

“You sure you want to keep going?” Delorah asked.

Sandy smiled sweetly. Her voice was cinnamon whiskey, sweet and fiery. “Ask me a damn question, please.”

“Okay.” Delorah looked at her card for a question. “All of these are about sex, which I don’t know if….” She trailed off without finishing.

Sandy helped herself to some food and grapes on her food tray.

“Are you getting all of the sexual satisfaction that you need from your love life?”

Sandy ate a slice of gouda while she thought of a response. “No.”

“No?”

“I want my partner to be as fiery when we make love normally as she is when she cheats on me. I mean, the jealous sex is amazing, but can we either skip the other person or….” Sandy stopped mid-sentence. She popped a cracker into her mouth and chewed it.

“I can—I can do that.”

“Maybe we can come to an arrangement.”

“Sandy—I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

“I want you to call me, when someone propositions you. I want you to call me if you think someone might proposition you, before it gets physical.”

“It’s not like it’s planned.”

“It’s also not like your stupid, Delorah, my love. You know when women, you know when men, find you attractive.”

“So, if it looks like someone wants more than looking, and I call you, then what?”

Sandy put down her glass of wine and picked up Delorah’s hand. She kissed the fingers then the back of the hand tenderly. “Then, I want you and I to discuss if it’s worth it.” Sandy flipped the hand over so she could move to kissing her wrist, shifting a golden bracelet out of her way.

“I know it’s not.”

Sandy moved to kissing up her partner’s arm. She paused to lick along the brown skin. “Then, if we decide it is worth it, I want you to come home afterwards and describe to me what you did to them.”

“I don’t know if you want to hear all that, Sandy.”

“I love hearing you have pleasure, and I know that I can’t satisfy all your urges, my love. I’m tired of pretending that I can.” Sandy bit the inner crook of Delorah’s elbow and slid her tongue along a barely visible vein.

Delorah’s arm shivered at the feeling. Sandy released her teeth and continued her trail of kisses upward.

Delorah answered, “But, isn’t that unfair to you?”

“Well maybe, sometimes, I come along,” Sandy said. She was past the shoulder now kissing Delorah over her silk dress onto the collarbone. Sandy pushed her warm body against her lover, somewhat encumbered by her own puffy purple skirt.

Sandy’s scent, a soft perfume of sweet pea flowers, intermingled with Delorah's own perfume of cinnamon and clove spice. The sweeter perfume intoxicated Delorah.

Soon Delorah was kissing Sandy’s neck as well. The highly structured dress prevented Delorah from exploring most of her favorite places. Sandy had no trouble slipping her hands into Delorah’s wrap around dress. Her breasts were small and unprotected by a bra.

“This feels backwards,” Delorah said. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Sandy’s fingers swirled around the A cup breast, kept small by a ballet dancer’s metabolism. Her head moved so Delorah could no longer kiss her neck, and she kissed her again on the lips. The first kiss was soft. The second was long and deep. Delorah figured out how to get her hand under Sandy’s underskirt to her inner thigh.

When they broke, Sandy was kissing again around Delorah’s face. Between kisses Sandy said, “I am—sick—of not—being in control.” She licked along her ear from the top of Delorah’s earring up.

Bronze fingers played with Sandy’s inner thigh climbing up toward her underwear that was starting to leak warm wet juices. “I want to give you control,” Delorah said. Her fingers stroked along the side of the wet panty, touching and encouraging the slimy liquid.

“I want to tie you up and give you touch only when I say so,” Sandy said. “I want you to beg for—”

She halted mid-sentence as Delorah’s index and middle finger slipped around the panty to inside her. Her pussy tightened around the welcome intruder. She closed her eyes and felt her body shudder. She had the vague feeling that her body was being moved, but her attention was so focused on one spot. It was something of a surprise to realize she was now the one pressed between the loveseat and her partner.

“I’d like to see you tie me up,” Delorah said, “But we both know your the one who likes it when I have control.” As Delorah’s fingers moved back and forth inside of Sandy like two fingers running along the body. Sandy felt Delorah’s left hand struggling to unhook the purple dress. Sandy let her struggle for a bit and laid back enjoying. Delorah’s fingers stopped their movement.

“You’re never going to get this off without my help,” Sandy said.

“You know I am a woman too.”

“Do you wear lolita dresses on your off days, because you like feeling pretty and feminine and mostly covered up?”

Delorah met Sandy’s eyes after this comment.

After a few blinks she replied, “You know what, I’ll just go around.” She lowered onto her knees and buried her head underneath the crinoline, dress padding. Sandy’s black and purple lace underwear was pushed aside once again. This time Delorah’s talented tongue was sliding along the edge of Sandy’s soft and slimy labia. She licked again further inside. Her tongue was not deterred by the cloth it intersected as it slid into Sandy’s vagina. Delorah’s nose filled with Sandy’s true scent, smelling her precious nectar.

Sandy stared upward towards nothing; her lips hung slightly open. Sandy moved her tongue around as she breathed, the movement almost mimicking what was being done to her other lips below.

Delorah pulled her head back out from her position, replacing her tongue with her middle right finger to not lose the momentum. She took a deep breath as soon as she was clear from the dress.

“Are you—are you alright?” Sandy asked. Her vagina was tightening around the finger that was drawing a swirl against one of her inner walls.

“I might need some scuba gear with this dress.” Delorah answered, despite her joking tones, her finger continued to tenderly caress within Sandy. Their eyes met and Delorah’s smile grew wicked as she watched the expressions shift on her mates face. None of her own performances could ever compete with the joy exuded by Sandy’s authentic pleasure.

“Ahye” emerged from Sandy accompanied by a small kick that brought her right leg up in the air above Delorah and landed it on the top of the loveseat. She panted softly as Delorah moved her head to kissing the now prominent right leg.

“Maybe—maybe we should move—”

Delorah used her left hand to pull down the stocking, leaving a trail of kisses as she went.

“Wine—glasses” Sandy squeezed out before collapsing again to pleasure.

Delorah, tongue still touching Sandy’s calf, glanced at the coffee table strewn with the game and edibles. She closed her eyes to give it another kiss before pulling her head back. Her slimy finger soon followed pulling out of the body and leaving a trail of wet saliva-like residue along Sandy’s thigh.

“You’re probably right,” Delorah said. “We should go somewhere where I can stretch your body out."  

"Or yours."  Sandy said sitting up and pulling her limbs away.  "Maybe this time I'm the one tying the ropes."

Delorah smiled at her, meeting heaven when Sandy smiled back.  "Your wish is my command."