Better Late Than Never Read online

  BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

  © 2013 By Cheri Crystal. All rights reserved.

  THIS ELECTRONIC ORIGINAL SHORT STORY CONTAINS EROTIC CONTENT AND ADULT THEMES. READERS MUST BE OVER 18 TO PURCHASE.

  PUBLISH DATE: 2nd Edition March 2013.

  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUISINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

  SCANNING, UPLOADING AND/OR DISTRIBUTION OF THIS BOOK VIA THE INTERNET, PRINT, AUDIO RECORDINGS OR ANY OTHER MEANS WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR/PUBLISHER IS ILLEGAL AND WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW.

  GRAPHIC DESIGN: CHERI CRYSTAL

  FIND CHERI CRYSTAL ON THE WEB AT www.chericrystal.com, facebook.com/chericrystal, and http://www.amazon.com/Cheri-Crystal/e/B002VG3738

  Better Late Than Never

  BY

  CHERI CRYSTAL

  My life radically changed soon after I had a total hysterectomy. They removed everything: my uterus, ovaries, and cervix, due to a malignant tumor that had miraculously not yet spread. Surgical menopause depressed me to no end, but the recovery was worse than the operation, thanks to an infection that landed me on sick leave for months. With no choice but to follow doctor’s orders for lots of bed rest, I filled my time reading, watching television and thanking my lucky stars for avoiding a death sentence. On one of my many nights in front of the TV, I discovered The L Word and became instantly addicted. I soon rented the previous seasons’ DVDs and watched them back-to-back, which made me wonder why a happily married, middle-aged woman with children—that would be me—who enjoyed sex with her husband, Josh, would suddenly find herself aroused by naked women making love to one another.

  About the time I discovered The L Word, Josh’s boss sent him on a month-long business trip. Josh told me he’d cancel if I wanted him to, but I assured him I’d manage just fine while he was gone. After all, I had all my new television friends for company. I’ll never forget the night our ten-year-old son walked in on me watching my show. I was so engrossed in an explicit sex scene that it took a couple of gasps from him to get my attention. I’d be willing to bet that I was as pale as the white linen sheets on my bed. I couldn’t find the remote in the jumbled mess of blankets, so despite a twinge of pain from my incision, I jumped out of bed, and caught the top sheet with my big toe. Next thing I knew, I was tripping over myself attempting to manually turn off the set. In my haste, I had knocked over an open bottle of lube, which fell to the hardwood, leaking sticky liquid in a thick, clear puddle.

  Luckily, I was still wearing a nightgown. I wiped the sweat off my brow with my sleeve. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten caught up in the throes of passion while watching women get it on. I had no reason to believe it would be the last. The moment Josh got home, I needed to remind him to put a lock on our door.

  First, I had blanched, but like an unwelcome menopausal flash, heat now radiated from my cheeks, hot with shame. “Cory! What are you doing awake at this hour?”

  I’m his mother, so I won’t pretend to be unbiased. Cory was a precocious child from the minute he learned how to string words together into sentences. He had a unique, intuitive view of the world. Even knowing that about him, his reply knocked me for a serious loop.

  “I think your operation made you gay.” He fidgeted with his t-shirt. “When will Daddy be home?”

  “Not too long. A couple of weeks.” I cleaned up the spill with a wad of tissues and settled back into bed. Adjusting the blankets, I tapped the spot beside me. Cory stared at me with his large brown eyes. His serious expression reminded me so much of Josh. They had the same sandy-colored hair, although Josh’s was graying at the temples. “Come here, baby.”

  He seemed reluctant, but he climbed in and I pulled him close. It wouldn’t be long before he claimed he was too old for mommy hugs; I grabbed every opportunity I could. “Why can’t you sleep?”

  “Don’t know.”

  That was his pat answer for anything remotely personal. I think he learned that trick from his father. I figured it was a guy thing not to share and squeezed his young body reassuringly until he relaxed and yawned. Maybe he just needed comforting. I could do that.

  But who would comfort me? I didn’t know where the heck to put these foreign feelings that were eating away at my gut. My body had made it clear that it was craving members of my own sex. It didn’t make sense. I’d never felt this way before and was certain I hadn’t married my husband under false pretenses. Like most girls I knew growing up, I had a long history of lusting for one male heartthrob after another. I did what was expected. I dated boys, fell in love with a wonderful man and married him. Period.

  Except the period had turned into a question mark.

  It wasn’t like I had anyone I could talk to about this, either. I didn’t know a single lesbian! Unless you counted The L Word crowd, that is. As far as I knew, there weren’t any lesbians living in my entire town. I panicked from the isolation of it all. This had to be some cruel and unusual punishment for something I did in a previous life.

  You might think that having my son catch me in something of a compromised state would have slowed me down, but my obsessive personality didn’t let up. I read every lesbian book I could get my hands on. Trust me, keeping my addiction and fascination a secret from my family wasn’t easy, especially after Josh returned. We lived in a small single-storey house where space was at a premium. I hid my stash, half of which was erotic romance, behind the oil burner in the basement. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d go down there to read, sitting on an old mattress I should have thrown out years before. Thank goodness Josh had no idea that I’d found and enjoyed his Hustlers. If he knew, he’d have died of embarrassment. I couldn’t share my altered feelings with him yet, and I wanted to maintain as much harmony as possible in our comfortable relationship. Really, ours was a good marriage. I had no complaints. Well, other than one, but it wasn’t really Josh’s fault he had a penis and not a vagina.

  You might have thought it would make things easier for me when celebrities started coming out of the woodwork, bravely announcing to the world that they were gay and quite proud about it too. I was far from a celebrity, but I felt I had a straight and narrow reputation to uphold. And a loving family to protect.

  I probably could have continued to put my family’s needs before my own if I’d never been introduced to Adina, a slender, voluptuous woman who made the fancy-schmancy women I’d known around town look drab by comparison. She always dressed to the nines, from her styled hair down to her polished toes. Even though she was affluent to a fault, and truth be told, probably a little gaudy, Adina was nonetheless the most sincere, sweetest soul I’d ever met. Talk about packaging not accurately representing what’s inside.

  I met her at the Ladies Auxiliary Auction, one of the first activities I was able to partake of after I’d recuperated from my hysterectomy. We ended up on the same committee and turned out to be the most ambitious members of the group. Meeting once a week over dinner at a local bistro, we brainstormed, but mostly we gabbed and laughed. The more I learned about her, the more I adored her. Her easy-going nature was the perfect contrast to my incessant uptightness. She was the ultimate shopper, while I would rather pluck nose hairs than set foot in a mall. The old cliché about opposites attracting must be true, because in no time at all, we became inseparable.

  We often commiserated about our husbands and children, which made sharing all the good stuff that much more delicious. I started wearing my Bluetooth to do chores around the house when our daily phone chats began lasting longer than an hour. It got to
the point where I couldn’t clean the kitchen or throw in a load of laundry without her voice in my ear. Our relationship grew as we watched sappy chick flicks, took the kids skating, and often scheduled pot-luck suppers for both our families. And I’ll admit that I was glad her husband rarely joined us. I suspected he was having an affair. God help him if he broke Adina’s heart. How could he NOT want to be with this fascinating woman? Oh well. His loss…and my gain.

  Husbands. Damn pesky husbands. A few months down the line, my friendship with Adina became so intense that Josh accused me of preferring Adina’s company to his. Well, duh. Given that when he did finally get home each night I’d get maybe five minutes of his attention before he conked out, I didn’t bother arguing with him. To his credit, Josh knew better than to make a fuss.

  No point sugarcoating it. The highlight of my life was being with Adina. I stopped minding Josh’s absences. When his next trip came up—to Japan for two months this time—I kissed him goodbye and made him promise to be careful and to call me every few days. The morning he left, the limo driver took Josh to the airport and I deposited our son and daughter at their school.

  Back at the house, and less than an hour after my nest was emptied, I was ready to spend time with Adina. The doorbell rang, and my heart raced as I ran to answer it. My breath caught at the mere vision of Adina standing there on the stoop in a totally hot number. I could not stop my gaze as it darted towards her breasts, full and overflowing from the low-cut, fitted knit top. Then I all but drooled as I appreciated how her shorts showed off her shapely legs.

  “I love your outfit,” I gushed.

  “Thanks, Barbie Doll.”

  “Oh, stop. I’m one Barbara who hardly qualifies as Barbie even on my best day.”

  “Nonsense. You have a sumptuous figure, and your curves are precisely in all the right spots.”

  I’d have sworn she was ogling my chest. The odd expression on her face reminded me of the guys I used to catch checking me out during my club-hopping days.

  “I don’t have your perfect boobs. That’s for sure.”

  “You make up for it with a fine behind. I wish I had your natural padding.”

  “You have fine padding. Have you looked back there lately? Any woman would give her eye teeth to have your shape.”

  I loved the sound of her laugh, but it was her eyes that had me in complete rapture. She fixed her gaze on me and her eyes grew dark. They were almost black, surrounded by lush, thick lashes. I knew I had to change the subject or I’d come out and say precisely what was on my mind.

  “Now that we’ve established we’re both presentable enough to be seen in public,” I said, “why don’t you come in and I’ll get my things?”

  “I thought Josh and the kids had left already?”

  “Yes, so?”

  “Then you’re a lady of leisure,” she stated, “and home alone.”

  “The house felt empty until you showed up.” Despite my best intentions to remain aloof, I beamed from a glow that traveled the length of my body. As a cover-up to my visceral reaction, I pulled a cardigan out of the hall closet. I trembled as Adina helped me into it and liquefied from her gallant gesture. She maintained the contact; her hands warming my arms where they rested. Pivoting to face her, I nearly passed out from the proximity of her burgundy lips. Whiffs of perfume made its way into my consciousness, and I inhaled deeply. “You smell divine,” I murmured. She was camped in my personal space, and I liked her there. I flushed when our eyes locked.

  “You’re so pretty, Barbie. You have no idea how gorgeous you are.” She moved my hair behind my shoulder. Her voice, barely above a whisper, simultaneously warmed and chilled me to the bone. The sweet caress of her breath transported me into an episode of my show. I wanted desperately to test those shark-infested lesbian waters, if only to confirm or lay to rest my latent fears. I had to know if this pussy lust was a phase or the real deal.

  And there we were, Adina and I, alone and flirting with disaster. Two married women—me mostly lonely, and her with a husband in name only. Yeah, we were married, but we were attracted to each other in a way that went way beyond friendship. To me, it was a connection of cosmic proportion.

  “Thank you, I think.” I tried to wet my lips. “Can I get you a drink before we go?”

  “How about a scotch?”

  A nervous laugh escaped. “Have you looked at the clock? I was thinking more along the lines of Coke, but come to think of it, scotch sounds better.”

  She followed me to the liquor cabinet in the living room. Her presence felt like a parallel shadow, close but not quite touching. My body went into a frantic tizzy, thrumming with excitement from the unknown, but despite the enormous risk I feared we were about to take, eagerly producing all the necessary juices.

  “Are you sure we should consume alcohol this early?” I asked, after pouring more than an ample amount into two tumblers. “I can’t drive after drinking.”

  “Nor I, but maybe we can stay in and watch a movie, or talk,” she said. “Or whatever.”

  “Sure.” I cleared my throat and welcomed the burn of the alcohol on the way down. The room grew hot. I went to lower the thermostat.

  “I’m hot, too,” she said, “but not as hot as your luscious bod.”

  “Adina, you’re such a tease.” Where this bravado came from, I hadn’t a clue. Apparently, I had an even deeper well of it. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Is that okay?”

  I hesitated only a second. She swallowed my reply with a quick kiss. I stepped back, my hand flew to my lips, and I sucked in such a deep breath I feared I’d choke. My reaction to the hasty visit from her soft, moist, and tender lips registered and left me wanting them to return for a much longer stay. Adina had just done what I’d been fantasizing about for months. I was speechless and possibly bordering on shock, but blessedly, Adina seemed okay with this new development in our friendship.

  My swelling heart made it all but impossible to breathe, let alone speak. She placed her finger on my lips. I shook, aching for—hoping for—another kiss. I was lost in the joyful discovery of my not-so-unrequited passion. I wanted more answers, but regret shone brightly in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Barbie, I don’t know what came over me.” Her voice faltered and her beautiful smile slid into a contorted frown.

  I couldn’t allow that. She’d get wrinkles in her flawless complexion, so I did what any good friend would do. I kissed her. And this time, seconds slowed to lust-filled moments, followed by hours. My sense of self awakened. I needed to embrace every part of her body. I savored how smooth and creamy her skin felt, especially her face, and reveled in her all-consuming response to my touch. I explored the inside of her mouth with my tongue and cherished her flesh with eager hands. I longed to make love to her until I had memorized each hill and valley in what promised to be the most treasured and pleasant journey of my life.

  She entangled her fingers in my hair and clutched my head in a seductive hold. I used my hands to grope her back and grip her ass and to maneuver our bodies until we were completely attached to each other from our lips to our breasts. I pushed my crotch against her thigh and kissed her deeper still. She responded by fondling my hardened nipples.

  “Oh, my God,” I said, following the most satisfying kiss I’d ever had. “I can’t get enough of you—”

  “Nor I, you.”

  “Follow me,” I said, taking her hand. I led her to the spare bedroom off the kitchen. It was the closest place, and my body couldn’t wait any longer.

  Once inside the room, I turned to face her again. My resolve wavered. “Are you sure about this?” I asked, praying she wouldn’t back down.

  “If you’re okay with it.”

  “It’s what I want.”

  “Me too.”

  Not another second wasted, we tore at each other’s clothes. I had her shirt and shorts off first. I would have happily drowned in a sea of ecstasy from the vision of her in a red lace bra and matching
thong. There wasn’t an ounce of cellulite in sight. I moved in to devour her, but she made me wait until I stood before her in only a bra and panties. Had I thought about it earlier, which I most certainly hadn’t, I would have worn something sexier than an ordinary white bra and hipster underpants, but the look in her eyes as she swept a glance over my totally aroused body made me feel worshipped, for the first time in my life.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said, and unhooked her lacey bra, letting it drop to the floor. I stood mesmerized as I feasted on her taut pink nipples and creamy white mounds of flesh. She held me off, and I feared I was going to burst from the wait. When she removed her thong, her neatly trimmed pussy beckoned for me to know all her secrets in ways I’d never done before. I wanted to please this woman more than I’d ever wanted to please anyone. I intended to honor her and fulfill her wildest dreams. Her every response would be my master, moment by moment until we had shared it all. I’d love her until there was nothing left, until all was given and all was taken. And then we’d do it again.

  I wanted her so badly my mind failed me. “Adina…”

  “Now you, Barbie. Please, let me watch you get naked, too.”

  I complied. What a surprise! Not only did I desire her under my fingertips, under my tongue, in my mouth and every other way we could come up with, but, modest as I was, it shocked me to learn that I could bare my body for a woman. It felt so right.

  I wasn’t neatly trimmed like she was, but surprisingly I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed that I hadn’t even shaved. She moved in to cup my breasts, and I did likewise with hers. Every inch of her skin was the finest silk, and before I took my first taste, I knew it would be a memorable delight I could never live without.

  We tumbled onto the bed. I cursed the bedspread and covers as I yanked them out of the way. Like sex-starved, star-crossed lovers, we mated until we had our fill, at least for the moment.

  I loved her open, wet, inviting pussy and was astonished that I was the same when she fucked me. Wrapped up in each other, we breathed in sync and even climaxed within seconds of each other. It was miraculous and felt like destiny. Finally, fulfilled, we melted into a comfortable embrace. I whispered, “Thank you,” into her ear and caressed her hair away from her face to bestow a tender kiss upon her exposed cheek.