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She winked and jerked her head at the door.As we headed for the car, I asked, where she wanted to go next. That stopped her—for about five seconds. She asked about the distance to Union. This confirmed my suspicion that she had just text Francine Martel. Unfortunately, it was already late, and we could not make the playhouse before 10:30 PM. Then she asked if I could make decent oatmeal? I was good with that. It was time she saw my house.As we drove home, I ventured, "I contacted Julian to make you a new piece." This did not seem to rattle anything loose. After a pause, she said, "Dress too?" I suppose I should hate being so predictable, but she was the only one that had the knack. I said, "Of course. What good is a wedding dress corset without the wedding dress? I insisted that you had to be able to dance in it, even if I cannot." She became quiet for a moment, then murmured, "My Teddy Bear." That, on the other hand, did annoy me.If I had any notions that my gated community would. She was pondering the rich array of extraordinary sounds she made, when an orgasm collapsed around her. Which sound was sweeter, a breath that had been stolen, or the one that was wedged sideways in her throat? You know the kind. It's the one where she sucks in her breath, making that little inbound squeal. It then lodges there in her throat, unable to come out. What a sweet sound. It was hard to decide which one was the sweetest.The echoes of her broken efforts to breathe, rang in Catherine's head, as if she was still with Karen. The bed still smelled of their sex. Catherine continued to replay the way she sounded, as she pleasured herself with Karen. Catherine's love for Karen was very deep.They had discovered something new, earlier that week. At least she thought it was a discovery. Hell, she could have just been teaching Karen something new. Four days later, she still found herself remembering the result.At first, it was surprising to her that a woman with her experience could.
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