Lydia

Lydia had been happily, heterosexually married for six years when her sweet, smart loving husband, Eric, jumped off a bridge. There had always been that sadness about him and Lydia had done what all the books had said to do to help him, but depression wasn\'t something that rest of the world could fix if someone didn\'t want to be fixed. She had grieved some and gotten really angry at Eric for a while, but she had a handsome little boy to take care of, so she had to move on sooner rather than later, so she did.

Ten years later, her little boy was a teenager who knew a hell of a lot more about the world than she had at his age, but surprisingly, that was a good thing. Perry did well in school, played in the drum line of his high school marching band and had a boyfriend who was an equally great kid. Lydia had been amazed at how matter of fact Perry had been about Mike. He just brought him home for dinner one night the year before and introduced him as, \"my gay, gay boyfriend, Mike- he plays trumpet. Please pass the broccoli.\" Despite having not clue one that Perry was gay, Lydia had managed to pass the broccoli and stay calm and civil long enough to see that Mike was good for Perry and that Perry was good for Mike- and hell, the world was changing- who was she to stand in its (or Perry\'s) way? Mike\'s parents hadn\'t been particularly pleased with the relationship. It seemed like they were just hoping Mike would grow out of it. He didn\'t. They adjusted.

Five years after that, Perry and Mike were at Rutgers- rooming together, which Lydia didn\'t let herself think about too much, and her nest was empty. Lydia was 38 and, aside from breathing and working in the office that she managed everyday so she could keep eating, had no real plans for the next forty years. You could say she was ready for a change. Perry said she needed to get laid, but he was nineteen and in love, everything was about sex when you were nineteen and in love.

Lydia took art classes to find her muse. Lydia saw a shrink to find her inner child. Lydia saw a guru to find herself. Lydia video dated to find herself a man. Lydia ended up with some ugly lopsided pots, some pricey bills and regrets about sleeping with an insurance agent named Warren, who was oddly hung up on feng shui. Lydia bought a map to find a pretty little island to spend a week on so she didn\'t have to look at the lopsided pots, the bills or Warren, who stopped by every few days to chat and rearrange her furniture, even though he fully understood that Lydia wasn\'t interested anymore. He was trying to sell her insurance or change her mind about dating him, Lydia couldn\'t tell which.

Lydia ended up on St. Kitts lying on the beach, sipping cool tropical drinks and reading a paperback. After two days, she had abandoned her book, discovered that too much lime gave her heartburn and gotten a good sunburn. She broke up the monotony of relaxing by taking a short boat ride over to Nevis and touring a little museum dedicated to Alexander Hamilton, who was born there. The bright spot of her island vacation was seeing the birthplace of a famous accountant- she was officially doomed. She bought some kitschy trinkets for Perry and Mike as well as her coworkers and traded her ticket in for an earlier flight out, never having gotten her groove back. She wasn\'t even sure she had a grove anymore.

The flight was overbooked and Lydia got bumped. After twelve hours waiting in the small airport, she took a seat in the first class section of a flight leaving in the wee hours of the morning. Exhausted, she was asleep before take-off and woke with terrible ear pains from the pressurized cabin. There was a very sympathetic twenty-something seated across the aisle. Miranda gave her gum. Miranda gave her aspirin. Miranda bugged the flight attendant on Lydia\'s behalf to get a hot towel and a pillow and some juice and a snack and a pair of those captain\'s wings they gave out to children, just to see if she\'d do it. That Miranda asked made Lydia giggle. That the flight attendant complied made them both laugh too hard for Lydia\'s aching head.

Then Miranda stood in the aisle, commanded Lydia to sit sideways and massaged her shoulders until the flight attendant told them that Miranda couldn\'t stand there- it was against safety and security measures. So Miranda bent close and whispered, \"Meet me in the john,\" in Lydia\'s ear and disappeared behind the curtain to the rear. Miranda\'s hands had felt ridiculously good, so Lydia followed lemming like.

As one would expect, the airplane\'s bathroom was intimately small. They both had to stand and most of Miranda\'s front brushed against Lydia\'s back whenever they hit turbulence. On the plus side, Lydia could slip off her brassiere, which was cutting into her sunburned shoulders. Miranda helped, which would have been weird in any other situation, but the teeny tiny of the bathroom required. They left most of Lydia\'s buttons undone- it made it easier for Miranda to reach the skin of Lydia\'s back to continue the massage.

Lydia stood in front of the small sink and mirror, closing her eyes against the image of Miranda\'s hands on her, Miranda\'s eyes on her- Lydia didn\'t want to recognize what she saw in Miranda\'s face. Miranda\'s hands slid back up to shoulders. Lydia leaned back into her, needing to, and Miranda smoothed palms and fingertips across collarbone and sternum. Lydia let out a breath and Miranda stilled her hands.

\"Sweetie, you want this?\" she whispered. This didn\'t need to be defined even though Lydia wasn\'t real sure of the exact details.

\"Yes,\" she mouthed inaudibly, but Miranda saw it.

Movement resumed and Lydia relearned how good gentle lips and tiny breaths could feel on her neck, how good warm and careful hands felt cupping her breasts, tickling the curves of them, teasing the areolas, thumbing her nipples until they swelled to hard points.

\"Open your eyes, Lyd,\" Miranda ordered and Lydia did, more afraid of Miranda stopping than she was afraid of seeing them as they were.

As they were was lewd and beautiful. Lydia hadn\'t seen herself look so dazed- the good sex dazed in years, maybe never and Miranda was all light and joy behind her. She nibbled Lydia\'s earlobe and lowered her hands to the snap on Lydia\'s shorts. Lydia helped- or tried to, but there were too many hands and Miranda slapped Lydia\'s away.

\"That\'s my job,\" she scolded and bit the back of Lydia\'s neck.

\"My apologies,\" she responded hoarsely.

They wiggled and fell against the door and righted themselves and then Lydia\'s shorts were around her ankles, then only one ankle. The mirror wasn\'t full length, so Lydia couldn\'t see Miranda\'s hands on her belly, stroking her hip, caressing her thighs apart. Miranda\'s long hair fell against her cheek as she reached further down and around Lydia, sliding between her legs, Miranda\'s thumb moving slowly up to brush against where Lydia\'s legs met. Lydia wound her idle arms around Miranda\'s busy ones to keep from falling and buried her face in Miranda\'s hair. It smelled faintly like fruit and sweat- like the island had.

Now, Miranda was slipping two fingers smoothly in and out of Lydia\'s wetness, grazing Lydia\'s clit with her thumb at the deepest part of every thrust. Lydia matched her rhythm with her hips and her stifled moans. Miranda shifted them slightly and now she was pushing into Lydia faster and deeper, keeping a thumb knuckle in a very good place almost constantly.

Lydia put an arm around Miranda\'s neck and turned her head. Miranda cottoned on and then they were kissing. Miranda\'s mouth was lush and tropical to match her hair and Lydia got lost in it. They lost their pattern of hips and hand. Lydia turned, wanting more of that mouth and then Miranda was up against her, front to front. They kissed slowly, only stopping to breathe and Miranda worked her hand into Lydia again, making Lydia grunt and push against her, greedy for it.

Miranda separated them as much as possible, which wasn\'t much, and slid to her knees. She positioned Lydia against the wall (the TP dispenser was going to leave a mark). Then Miranda leaned forward and licked her way up Lydia\'s thigh to her clit, suckling it and sliding three fingers into her at the same time. Lydia held onto the little metal sink for dear life and came, trying not to fall, trying not to be heard on the Earth below. Miranda licked and stroked her until Lydia\'s hips stilled and her breathing calmed.

\"Open your eyes,\" Miranda ordered again and Lydia did. \"You feel better?\" she asked with a saucy little smirk as she started helping Lydia back into her shorts.

\"Yeah,\" Lydia admitted.

\"I thought you would,\" Miranda boasted before leaning over the sink to wash her face and hands, smooth her hair and straighten her clothes. \"Wait a few minutes before you come out, okay?\"

\"Right,\" Lydia obeyed. It only made sense to anyway- she still couldn\'t walk yet.

When Lydia got back to her seat, Miranda handed her a business card. It read, Miranda Colbry, Raindell Publishing and had a set of contact info. \"My address and home number are on the back. We should have lunch soon.\" She smiled in a way that shouldn\'t have seemed dirty. Lydia saw dirty in it just the same.

\"Thanks, I will,\" she replied.

Then it was time to fasten their seatbelts and they didn\'t really say much to each other and Miranda\'s limo driver was right there outside security, so they just hugged goodbye and Lydia promised to call that week and then Miranda left and Lydia went to look for her luggage.