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"How's your brother?"
"Better. He just needed to talk to someone who understands that he
isn't crazy."
"Takes one to know one?" Leah said.
Sophia smacked her side. Then she hopped off the bed and went
into the bathroom. Leah frowned, turned off the television, and went to
retrieve her bag. She'd brought sexy pajamas--the one pair of sexy
pajamas she brought on every trip, just in case, and she changed into
them quickly and put on Chap Stick and bounded back into bed. Her
hair had dried haphazardly, and she considered lunging for the bag
again, and her comb, but Sophia emerged, wearing a white T-shirt that
said Evita on it, and boxer shorts that looked like they had belonged to
a man at one time. Plaid. Leah looked at her legs, as Sophia came over
and knelt on the bed and wrapped her arms around Leah.
"Who were you in Evita?" Leah asked.
"Oh, no one. I just saw it with my parents and loved it. You know.
Theater."
"Of course."
"Madonna," Sophia said.
"Don't cry--"
Sophia cut her off with a kiss, sealing their mouths together until
she seemed sure Leah wouldn't sing. Leah smiled as Sophia pulled
back, and said, "We could..." She slid her hands down Sophia's back
and urged her closer.
"We could," Sophia agreed. She pressed her mouth to Leah's. Leah
opened her mouth. Sophia's tongue darted inside, small and
frustratingly elusive, until Leah put one hand on Sophia's head and
urged her to deeper kisses. Sophia knelt next to her, and put one knee
between her legs, balancing, and thrust her tongue between Leah's lips.
Leah went from cold to on fire in a matter of seconds. She tangled
her fingers in Sophia's hair, trading breathing for kisses, for the touch
of Sophia's lips and tongue that made her face feel flushed and her
mouth feel swollen. Sophia's breasts pressed against her chest, and
Leah's nipples tightened to the proximity of Sophia's body. Leah slid
her hand over Sophia's ass, squeezing, and was rewarded with Sophia's
moan against her lips. Sophia was in perpetual motion, pushing against
Leah's legs, kissing and retreating and kissing again. Her hands moved
over Leah's body freely, but shyly, touching a breast, a hip, her neck.
Leah wanted to turn her hips into Sophia's, thrust upward and end it
all quickly, before she died of desire. She twisted and fell back onto the
bed, pulling Sophia over her, their legs still tangled together. Sophia's
weight on her pressed all the right places. She reveled, holding Sophia
close, seeking more. She raised her leg between Sophia's. Sophia
yelped.
"Too much?" Leah asked.
Sophia sat up, pressing down on Leah, and settled her hands on
Leah's stomach. She smiled.
Leah tapped the tops of Sophia's thighs. Then she tugged on the
hem of Sophia's T-shirt, pushing it up as far as she could reach,
revealing Sophia's toned and pale abdomen. Sophia pulled the shirt out
of Leah's grasp and pulled it over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra.
Leah settled back on the bed and took in the sight, until Sophia arched
over her, and kissed her.
Unable to see Sophia's breasts, she settled for cupping them in her
hands, feeling their weight. Sophia rocked against her, biting at her lips,
her kisses becoming sloppier, and Leah could tell--could smell and
taste and feel--that Sophia wanted her, wanted this. She rolled Sophia
to the side so she had more room to maneuver, though she ached with
the loss of Sophia's weight and her body urged her to grind into Sophia,
to relieve the tension and the need, and Sophia, sprawled on the bed,
smiling faintly, half-undressed and rapturous with flushed skin and
swollen lips, urged her, too.
She bent her head to kiss Sophia gently. Sophia lifted her hand,
cupped Leah's face, and kissed her back. Leah sucked on Sophia's
lower lip. Sophia chuckled, taking hold of Leah's satin top and
murmuring, "Your turn."
"Help me," Leah said, and Sophia grinned and sat up, sliding her
hands under Leah's top, caressing her stomach. Leah arched, and said,
"More."
"More?"
"Mm."
Sophia scooted down and pushed up the fabric, and kissed bare
skin.
"Sophie," Leah whispered. Sophia grazed her side with her teeth.
Leah convulsed. She exhaled with force and hollowed her stomach.
Sophia drummed her fingers against her ribs and laughed, then pressed
her open mouth to Leah's stomach. Leah would have screamed had she
the breath.
Leah's bag began to chime, "It's Raining Men."
Leah did scream, and added, "Fuck you!" but the phone persisted in
its jangle.
"Don't answer it," Sophia said.
Leah sighed. "It's like we're in a movie. But it's Adam's ring, and
it's three in the morning and he knows where I am. It could be
important."
Sophia's expression immediately changed to one of concern. She
relented and released Leah, who fetched the phone and answered it
with her gruffest, "What?"
"I want to go over your song in Act II again," Adam said, and
launched into an explanation of mood and theme.
Leah listened with half an ear, and went back to the bed, where
Sophia had pulled on her T-shirt and pulled back the covers. Leah slid
into bed, and offered her lips to Sophia. Sophia kissed her, and Leah
murmured against her lips as Adam chattered on.
"Adam," she said when the kiss broke and he stopped for breath,
"That's what I've been doing."
"But I want you to stand different. And your face, you have this tic,
that needs to stop when you sing this line--"
Leah groaned.
Sophia rubbed her back and said, "It is the last night."
"I don't care about the musical," Leah said, and though Adam
squeaked, it felt hollow even as she said it, and Sophia gave her an
indulgent smile. "I'm listening, Adam." She stretched out on her side,
and Sophia settled next to her, draping an arm around her waist, settling
a hand over her heart. Leah wriggled back, tucking into the curve of
Sophia's body. Sophia snuggled closer.
Leah talked to Adam in low tones, her best stage whisper, and in
their pauses Sophia's even breathing touched her ears. Sophia was
asleep. Well, lucky her, Leah thought. Sleep would elude her for the
next three days, through opening night, through the party and the
elation and the tension of waiting for the reviews.
She pitied Adam and his passion, radiating through the phone, and
resigned herself to endless late-night calls. She would bow and success [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]