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Ava argues, but Deborah insists.
And Deborah always gets her way.
“At least let me pick the color?”
“Fine,” Deborah says. She holds up a bottle of nail polish in a vampy shade of red. “As long as you pick this one.”
“Dunno why you want to paint my nails anyway,” Ava grumbles, settling beside Deborah on the seat of her vanity. They’re close, body heat radiating between them. Deborah feels the air pulsate, like a mirage in the desert, and blinks hard.
“Stay still,” she says, the command in her voice muted slightly by her focus on Ava’s hand.
“Really not my color,” Ava mutters.
Without shifting, Deborah glances up, blue eyes frigidly impassive. “I don’t remember asking your opinion,” she says, returning her attention to dip the brush in the little bottle of crimson lacquer.
“Yeah, well, my job is to give you my opinion,” Ava sighs. Her fingers twitch and Deborah holds them steady, carefully sliding the polish in a neat second coat over her middle finger.
“And my job is to make sure you look nice when I parade you around town,” Deborah says, her voice slightly softer, slightly teasing.
“Not actually your job, but okay,” Ava scoffs.
“Don’t be bratty,” Deborah murmurs. She runs her thumb over Ava’s knuckles, collecting the warmth off the back of her hand and wishing her nails were already dry. She cleans the top of Ava’s index finger, pressing her own nail into the sensitive flesh and feeling Ava wince. “You know this would be a lot easier if your nails weren’t chewed to nubs.”
“May I remind you that you benefit enormously from my short nails?”
“You may. But later. Right now I need you to be a good girl and go lie perfectly still on the bed while these dry. And no texting! There will be an inspection. If I come back and those are smudged, you will not get what I have planned.”
Ava’s eyes widen and her lips part, but Deborah leaves the room, smiling smugly, before Ava can speak.
Deborah marks the time and makes herself a dry martini. Just a little dirty. Leisurely, she sips, certain Ava has not moved an inch from where she parked her on the bed. Thinking of her lying there obediently, holding her glossy nails aloft, gives Deborah’s clit its own little heartbeat. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, thankful no one knows how damp she’s becoming.
For an hour she busies herself, returning mundane messages and composing cordial emails. She bites the inside of her lips, strangely satisfied that none of her associates know she has her head writer upstairs, indisposed, in her bed. And no one, not even said head writer, knows what she has planned. She mashes an olive between her teeth. It’s delicious.
When the hour is up, she makes another martini. Dry. Just a little dirty. And she returns to her room.
Ava has her tawny head on Deborah’s pillows, fingers splayed on her thighs, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s not precisely how Deborah left her, but close enough.
“God, I thought you were never coming back,” Ava complains.
Ignoring her, Deborah picks up one of her hands and inspects each fingernail. They are unblemished. “Someone’s been a good girl,” Deborah mutters.
“Yeah well, someone has to pee.”
Deborah clucks her tongue and rolls her eyes. “I suppose you can go use the bathroom.” With a groan of relief, Ava scampers off to Deborah’s en suite. While she’s waiting, Deborah pulls back the blankets and tugs an armchair a few inches closer to the edge of the bed. After changing into a voluminous, silk kimono, she takes a seat in the chair with her drink.
Ava returns and Deborah says, “Take your clothes off and come sit over here, honey.” She pats the edge of the bed in front of her.
“Don’t have to ask me twice!” Ava says, quickly shimmying out of her jeans and tee shirt.
“Everything,” Deborah says, eyeing the sports bra and panties Ava left on. Ava shucks them off and makes her way to the bed, a little less exuberant and a little more uncertain of what is happening. She sits on the spot preordained by Deborah, knees pressed together, hands perched on top of them. The red polish is like ten lacquered cherries on a decadent cake. Deborah licks her lips. “Knees apart,” she says, her voice low and husky.
“Uh, you know… I’m not just an obedient little sexbot here.”
“Yes you are,” Deborah smirks. “Knees apart. Don’t make me ask again.”
Ava gulps and complies, keeping her hands on her knees as she spreads them open. Deborah takes in her ginger curls, darker than the hair on her head, and dusky rose slit, such a gorgeously fecund shade, already appearing swollen and moist.
Deborah takes a sip of her drink and presses her own legs together.
“Spread yourself for me, sweetheart,” Deborah says, heart racing but voice unfaltering. "Let me see you." Whimpering faintly, Ava complies, and gently but eagerly tugs her labia apart. “Mmmh, pretty,” Deborah murmurs, leaning forward to run a single finger over the line of scarlet fingernails accenting Ava’s dewy vulva. Ava’s entire body judders and Deborah hears her gulp, but she’s staring at the succulent fruit of Ava’s cunt.
“Is this why you wanted to paint my nails?”
“No comment,” Deborah sighs and leans back in her chair. Ava rolls her eyes and tries to look haughty while still holding herself open for Deborah. “Oh, don’t even try to tell me you’re not enjoying this. I can see that you are.” It’s true. Ava is wet and getting wetter by the minute, her garnet inner flesh sparkles with arousal. Her cheeks are aflame, nearly the same color as her pussy, with frustration and embarrassment at the fact Deborah has sniffed her out like this.
“Deborah,” Ava breathes shakily.
“Shh. Good girls only speak when they have permission.”
Ava sucks her lips into her mouth. When they pop back out they’re wet, practically begging to be sucked until sore, but Deborah holds her drink steady and masters herself.
“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you sweetheart?”
“Fuck yes.”
“Wonderful. Then touch yourself for me,” Deborah says, the grit of lust in her tone. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me. Or do you not know how? Do you need me to tell you how to do it?”
“Ye-yeah… I think so,” Ava manages. She wears an almost comical slack jawed, unfocused expression and Deborah knows there are no coherent thoughts left in her head. She also knows that in this state, Ava will do just about anything she’s told.
“How about you reach down and run your finger around your opening? Yes, that’s right. Check how wet you are for me.”
“So wet,” Ava exhales sharply, her fingers doing Deborah’s bidding. “Jesus, soaking for you Deb.”
“Mmh, that’s a good girl. Now take some of that wetness on your fingers, just like that, and bring it up to your clit.” She watches Ava work her copious arousal up her slit and slide it over the bud of her clit. Deborah sees the tendons at the top of Ava’s thighs tense and tremble and it makes her gut tighten with desire. “How’s that feel, honey?”
“Good, so fucking good.”
“Look at me when you’re talking to me,” Deborah commands and Ava instantly opens her eyes and brings her dreamy, hazel gaze to meet Deborah’s. Ava’s fingers stop and Deborah tuts and says, “I didn’t say you could stop.”
“Sorry,” Ava mumbles and begins drawing deliberate circles on her clit again, maintaining eye contact with Deborah.
“Not too fast,” Deborah says and Ava slows her pace. Deborah watches Ava touch herself like this for several minutes, excited gasps and squeaks occasionally coming from Ava. “Now, honey, I want you to take your fingers and put them in your mouth. Mmmhmm that’s right. Taste yourself for me. Lick them clean but also get them nice and wet. You’re doing very well, Ava. Deeper. Take your fingers deeper in your mouth for me. Good girl.” Deborah takes the olive laden toothpick from her drink and sucks on it, wishing it were Ava’s fingers. It’s all she can do to keep from tossing her drink across the room and pouncing on Ava, but she persists.
Ava sits with her knees spread wide open, sucking her fingers. Her focus is on Deborah, a mix of desperation and curiosity on her face.
“Are your fingers nice and wet?”
Ava nods with a muffled “Mmmh.”
“Okay good. Fuck yourself with them for me.”
“Jee-zuss,” Ava groans, plucking her fingers from her mouth, bringing them to her opening, and starting to slide them inside.
“Not so fast!” Deborah snaps. “Do it slow. I want to see you fuck yourself nice and slow.” She wants it to be agonizing. Ava obeys, inserting one knuckle at a time until her fingers are buried deep inside her. Staring at Deborah, she uses her other hand to touch her breast, pinching her nipple, rolling it between her fingers.
“Can I lie down?” she pants softly, dragging her fingers slowly out and plunging them back in.
“Yeah, sure,” Deborah says, completely distracted by the disappearing act Ava is doing with her fingers.
Ava wriggles onto the bed while continuing to fuck herself. “Gah dayum,” she yelps. “You wanna join me here, Deb? Cuz holy hell this feels… oh fuck…”
“Not yet,” Deborah says firmly. Ava momentarily closes her eyes and Deborah steals the opportunity to squirm in her seat, giving her pussy some much needed attention that does nothing to relieve the filthy ache heating her inner thighs and lower abdomen, making her chest flutter and her breath tight. “Use your thumb to stroke your clit,” she orders and Ava complies with an animalistic noise.
“Fuck I’m close.”
“Don’t come.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, Ava. Don’t fucking come.”
“Then I have to stop.”
“No.”
“But I’m gonna…”
“No.”
“Then you have to let me stop, please!” Ava whines.
“Yes,” Deborah says finally. “But leave your fingers inside. Close your eyes and breathe.”
Ava’s entire body is quivering with the effort it is taking to hold back. Deborah climbs onto the bed and fits herself between Ava’s thighs, admiring her fingers hooked inside, framed by her drenched pubic hair. Gently taking Ava’s wrist in her hand, she pulls Ava’s fingers out and kisses the back of her hand and then her palm. Ava shudders, eyes still closed, chest heaving.
“Spread yourself for me, sweetheart,” she says softly, watching the ruby fingernails decorate Ava’s labia like something royal. Lowering her face, Deborah licks Ava, savoring her tangy musk. She’s slick and wet as melon on Deborah’s tongue and Deborah hums happily at the taste and texture. She swipes her tongue up, flat and heavy, over Ava’s clit, knowing it won’t take much to make her climax.
Ava keens, long and high, her hips tipping up to meet Deborah’s viciously persistent tongue, fingers pressing into her own flesh on either side of Deborah’s face.
“Good girls come when they’re told,” Deborah murmurs, sliding her fingers inside Ava.
“Okay,” Ava grits out.
“Come now for me, baby.”
Permission granted, Ava lets go and comes. Deborah feels the savage spasm of her cunt greedily gripping her fingers, as if trying to pull them in deeper and force them out at the same time. She feels Ava’s clit pulsate against her lips and sucks it, as if drinking in her orgasm, consuming it like an elixir.
She makes her way up Ava’s body, pausing to take an overly sensitive nipple in her mouth and roll it on her tongue. Under her cheek, she feels Ava’s heart thumping fast.
But she’s not done.
“You were a very good, sweet girl for me,” she whispers and Ava shivers.
“Thank you,” Ava grins.
“You’re not finished.”
“Deb. I cannot take any more after that.”
“That’s fine, because you don’t have to,” Deborah says and tenderly brushes the hair off Ava’s face. Kissing her forehead she says, “Now that you know how to touch yourself, I want you to use those pretty little fingers to do the exact same thing to me.”
Ava does not argue.