[*Anya*]

Mosaic

I rolled over, fully expecting her to still be sleeping. I ran my hand over the empty space in my bed, as though I would be able to feel the heat of her still.

She was gone. In a rush, bits and pieces of the evening, overlapping, coalescing into a broken image in my mind's eye.

Confusion still reined. Everything seemed so unclear as I attempted to retrace my memory back to the beginning of the evening last night.

I could remember getting ready for our date but parts remained hazy as I tried to recall exactly what happened. I reached back to the moment I opened the door to let her in for our date.

She was dressed casually. Levi's, white shirt, carefully knotted navy tie and a navy, wool blazer. I threw my arm over my eyes as though it would help me remember more easily by blocking out the bright light of the morning sun, shining through the antique lace curtains. I could still smell her cologne on my arm.

She stood in the doorway, in that casual pose that many butches adopt as they try to hide their nervousness. She looked me up and down. I followed her eyes as they lingered a beat too long on my breasts. She caught my eyes and chuckled. I smiled, to let her know I was not offended and in fact, appreciated that she was looking.

I do have nice breasts. Still firm, rounded and all mine. My nipples are my best feature and I had never found a butch that disagreed with me on that.

In her hand, she held a single pink rose: "I hope you like roses", she stated, after realizing she had not yet offered it to me. "I love roses and pink is my favorite color". I reached for it and gave her extra points for ensuring that she chose one with a heavenly perfumed scent.

"Come in, I am almost ready. Would you like a drink?" "No", she replied, in that sexy, deep voice that I loved from our first meeting in the lesbian sex section of the bookstore.

I had been lost in thought that day, while reading about oral sex techniques and she had quietly stood behind me. I did not even know she was there, until I heard her voice, when she said: "I could answer any questions you might have, can I help you?".

I was flustered and embarrassed, as though I had been caught with my hand down my silk panties and dropped the book with a loud bang on the hardwood floor. We both reached over at the same time to pick it up.

She got the book before I did. As we stood up, I was struck by the bright cornflower blue of her eyes. Her hair was short, combed back and such a dark brown, it almost appeared black in the fluorescent lights of the bookstore.

She wore the ubiquitous uniform of butches everywhere: jeans and boots and they looked damn good on her. She was tall. I am short, around 5"4 and she had to be at least 5"10. I like that. Even if it is illusory, a tall butch always makes me feel protected.

"Nervous?", she asked. "A little", I replied. "Don't be, I am harmless. I saw you reading in the lesbian section, thought you very attractive and wanted to talk to you. I am sorry I startled you. I should not have done that".

Who could resist that? Not I. She was self-effacing and it was very disarming. "I would like to take you out for dinner. Are you single?" "Very", I replied. She laughed so heartedly and without reservation, that I had to smile.

"OK, then. How about I pick you up at 7:00?" "Yes", I replied, "I would like that". We exchanged numbers, I gave her my address and started to give her directions. "No need, I will find you", she stated.

Find me, she did. I gave her even more points for being exactly on time. What I remembered about dinner was that it was Italian, delicious and that I probably drank one glass too many of the excellent
Zinfandel wine she had ordered. I must have felt anxious because I usually stick to one glass.

Maybe that is why I am having difficulty remembering everything that happened.

I stretched out in my bed and burrowed deeper under my down comforter. My hand crept down between my legs. I gently stroked my labia. Was it my imagination or was I very swollen and sensitive? No, not imagining it at all! I was also very, very wet.

In a split second, I stopped trying to remember last night. My fingers gently stroked my pussy, luxuriating in the slickness. As gently as a kiss, my finger glided over my now hardened clit, fully erected out of its hood. God, I love to feel that!

I tried to prolong the pleasure and hold back as long as I could, but was so aroused, I only delayed the inevitable. My breath came in gasps, hovering on the edge, knowing it would be so exquisite.

At the very last minute before I lost rational, conscious thought, I heard her voice, that voice I had already grown to love; say to me, "I see you started without me".

I opened my eyes, took in the picture of her naked, holding a breakfast tray with a steaming pot of coffee and yes, another pink rose to match the one she brought me last night.

My fingers kept stroking, faster and faster. I felt no shame or embarrassment. It felt totally right to lose my fingers in my wetness, while she watched. So wet, so loud, that I could hear myself as she stood there looking at me with growing heat in her eyes.

In that millisecond, the pieces of the puzzle of last night fit together. I remembered everything about our evening and as I tipped over the edge, I screamed out loudly as I began to cum...