NIKKI/NORA

Trouble Going Home

Silk

Title: Trouble Going Home

Fandom & Pairing: Nikki & Nora

Author: Silk

Email: katiepult@gmail.com

Disclaimers: Nikki & Nora are the property of Nancylee Myatt and Warner Bros. Television. No infringement intended. Rating – NC–17

Word Count: 6495

Summary: Planes, Trains and a pissed off Southern woman in an automobile, just trying to get home.

Comments: Based on the best TV pilot that never was, “Nikki & Nora”, which you can find on YouTube. Comments: This is a short story based in the “Trouble” universe but occurs quite some time after “A Taste for Trouble”. Beta’d by me (I’m too embarrassed to ask people to beta certain types of fic)

Trouble Going Home

Silk

Louisiana in August can change day by day, especially in Hurricane season. One day the sun will beat down on you, the heat will hit a hundred, and then the thunderstorms will roll in at night, rattling the dishes. The next day will be rain, rain, and even more rain. Repeat the cycle and you have Louisiana.

The flowers have been in full bloom for a couple of months, filling the nights with the fresh heady scents that I always associate with New Orleans. We have thick air down there, so thick that on the worst days you can take a butter knife and slice it, or at least that’s what Darius’ MeeMaw likes to say. And yet, every time I go away and come back, stepping off the plane and get that first lungful of air…

It’s home.

I’ve been out of town for a month, having gone to Las Vegas for several classes and a convention for the Law Enforcement community. I’ve never been to a place where I’ve felt more wilted after only being there for five minutes, before Las Vegas. Dry and hot. And not hot like Louisiana hot. I’m used to the heat at home, but Las Vegas heat can kill you, and this Southern flower does not bloom well there.

Of course, I miss more than just the weather and the smell of Louisiana, I miss the people. One in particular.

Nora. As far as I’m concerned, nothing holds my heart like Nora. Not even my beloved New Orleans.

Wrapping my arms around a pillow every night just isn’t the same as her warm, smooth body. Starring all day into the eyes of strangers isn’t the same as looking into her laughing green eyes. Hearing her voice every night over the phone isn’t the same as listening to her whispers of passion. And as for the phone sex… there was no comparing it to the real thing.

All of these things makes me yearn to be back on home soil. But the weather seems to have it out for me.

Of course, I knew this might happen. A tropical storm has been brewing up in the Caribbean and been on the news for days. If I could, I would have left early and headed home ahead of the storm, but I couldn’t wrangle it until today.

With Nora being extremely busy at work, I haven’t told her yet that I’ve been trying to head home and now that the storm is just offshore of Mississippi and Louisiana, I know she has more than enough issues to deal with.

“Come on,” I nearly scream at the hapless customer service rep who had the unfortunate job of having to tell me the second leg of my flight has been cancelled and that my luggage is MIA.

Apparently, there’s not a pilot in the entire state of Texas with the cohones to fly into New Orleans right now.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but all flights to New Orleans have been cancelled. If you want…” replies the tall burly man in the blue tie and wanna–be plastic pilot pin with his airline’s logo emblazoned on it.

No. No. This is not happening. No way am I reenacting “Trains, Planes and Automobiles” today. No way.

“Look, my first flight was delayed by eight hours out of Las Vegas. And, now on top of that, I have no idea where my luggage is. So please, there has to be something? How about Baton Rouge?” I ask crossing my fingers.

He inputs the airport code and shakes his head almost immediately.

Please God, I know I haven’t always been a good girl, but…

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but all flights to Baton Rouge have been cancelled,” he replies with a straight face.

If he’s affected by my frustration and agitation he’s not showing it.

“Alexandria? Come on, give a gal a break. I’m trying to get home here,” I almost growl out the words, my composure fighting with my frustration.

Again he inputs the required airport codes and…

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but there are no flights to Alexandria today from Dallas. The last flight left about twenty minutes ago,” he replies with a patented, and very fake, pasty smile.

“Of course it did,” I say as I pull out my badge and flash it in front of his face, “Listen… I… need… to… get… to… New Orleans… as… soon… as… possible,” I say, emphasizing each and every word so he can understand in simple English.

“Ma’am…” he starts, but I interrupt.

“I know all you Texas boys love to say it, but quit calling me Ma’am. My name is Detective Nikki Beaumont and you will find me a flight to New Orleans,” I tell him matter–of–factly.

“No, Ma’am. I’m sorry, but I won’t. There are no flights to Alexandria today and considering the storm that’s just hitting the coast, I doubt there will be flights to it tomorrow either,” he says again with that damn smile. “And before you ask, there’s nothing to Shreveport either.”

I don’t like Texas. Damn smartasses. Damn hot weather. Damn desert. Even their airport air–conditioning is something to be desired. And their ideas on how to cook shrimp should be criminal. Anyone caught dead putting that much BBQ sauce on shrimp in Louisiana is going to be stripped down to their underwear and left in the middle of the swamp.

He matches me stare for stare as I glare at him and even fifteen minutes later, after demanding to speak to his supervisor, I’ve gotten nowhere.

I take a minute to call home, falling into one of those hard airport seats that some sadistic bastard thought would be “economically feasible” to put in because they’re so durable. I’d love to tie that person to one of these torture devices and let him try to get a good night’s sleep.

Yes, I’m grumpy.

*ring*

OK, Nora. Answer your cellphone, Honey.

*ring*

Please? We just talked last night, I know you’re around.

*ring*

“Delaney. Leave a message,” the dulcet sounds of my lover come over the phone, but I can’t help but grind my teeth even harder.

“Nora? Answer your cellphone,” I say quickly and hang up, hitting redial immediately.

“Delaney. Leave a message.”

Tropical storm winds and rain shutting down the biggest airports in New Orleans? No answer from Nora on her cellphone and it’s mid–day on a early afternoon on a weekday? I’m now officially worried.

Several minutes later, I get no answer from my father’s cellphone, nor Bobby’s, and even Darius isn’t answering.

Several minutes after that I’m slamming open the doors to the nearest rental car dealer.

“I need a car,” I tell the bright–eyed, blonde sales gal behind the counter.

“What kind?” she asks with a smile.

“I don’t care. I need it to get to New Orleans,” I ask.

“Well, that’s an over the state boundary trip, Darlin’,” she winks at me.

I’d scream in utter frustration, but I really need a car and I don’t want to scare her. She’s cute, but there’s only one flirt I appreciate. Besides, Texans just can’t compare to a real Southern woman flirting. However, my Daddy brought me up to be polite… Of course, I’ve already slipped today at the airport but I’m sure he’d forgive me.

“Yes, I know where New Orleans is. Can I still get a car?” I ask again, hopefully.

Be polite. Be polite.

“Well…”

“Please? I know I have to pay extra because it’s a multi–state trip. Would it help if I showed my badge? I just need a car,” I put as much charm as I’m currently able into my voice, letting my drawl ooze out along with a crooked smile.

“Well…” she pauses and I ready myself to storm out the door to the next rental agency, but then she continues, “we do have one car.”

“I’ll take it,” I say as I dig for my wallet and pull out the top–most credit card.

Minutes later, I’m handed rental papers, car keys and being shown to a moving box on wheels. Literally, it looks like a box. I don’t care what brand it is. If it’s not a classic muscle car, I really don’t pay attention to such things. If I had any control over what kind of cars the automobile industry makes, I’d fire anyone who had to do with creating a hideous car like this.

But it’s a car and, if I’m lucky, it’ll get me to New Orleans in just under eight hours.

Yeah right.

The first snag I hit is traffic. Just what a person trying to get home needs, a traffic jam on the freeway grinding everyone to an absolute halt.

An hour later, and possibly several layers of tooth enamel scraped off due to more grinding of my teeth, I drive past the accident that caused the issue and guiltily pray that the people are involved are OK. At the same time, I can’t help but be thankful that I’ve finally I’ve gotten the car’s speedometer to move past ten miles an hour.

Several hours later, I finally find a radio channel that isn’t country.

Heeyah!

Of course, less than an hour after that, between Shreveport and Baton Rouge in the middle of the freeway, the little crappy car craps out.

This is why I would never give up my car, my newest baby. These little pieces of plastic and glue just can not stand up to driving anywhere beyond around the block. Now why couldn’t that salesgirl have a nice Camaro or Mustang parked in the back?

The traffic has lightened up and I’m lucky enough to get the car to the side of the road when the engine started sputtering.

It takes quite a few tries and numerous “All circuits are busy.” before I get through to the rental agency. Unfortunately, they won’t be out for at least an hour with a towtruck and I don’t feel like waiting. Too bad I don’t have a choice in the matter.

And no amount of calling to Nora’s, or any member of our families, goes through. By the time time I give up, my blood pressure is as up as my patience and I swear if I hear that “All circuits are busy” recording again, I’ll scream.

When the good ole’ boy with his tow truck finally pulls up, I heave a sigh of relief and quickly hop into his cab out of the rain and patiently wait for him to hook the rental up.

“Welp, yer car sure looks dead ta me, Ma’am,” he says jovially as he gets back into his truck, his bright yellow rain slicker bringing more water into into the truck than what I did on the short dash from the rental.

“It’s a rental,” I reply and try to put on a more congenial face for the man. He did come out after–hours to carry me and that piece of plastic to the nearest rental agency, after all.

“Yep. They’re waitin’ fer ya. I’ll get ya there right quick. It’s back in Shreveport,” he turns to smile at me as he pulls back onto the freeway.

Back to Shreveport? Another hour and a half? By the time I get home it’ll be Easter.

Sighing quietly to myself, I check my cellphone, disheartened to see that the battery is now officially drained. Now I couldn’t call Nora even if I wanted to… and boy do I want to.

I’d bet she’d come get me.

“Umm… do you happen to have a cellphone?” I ask the man hopefully.

“Yep, but it won’t do ya any good. The storm is causin’ problems. Haven’t been able to get through. Too many people callin’ in and out,” he comments as he tosses it to me.

While he takes an off–ramp and then goes around to head back onto the freeway, heading back towards Shreveport, I try to call Nora several times, but he’s right. No calls are going through.

Handing it back to him, I nod my thanks and then hunker down on my side of the truck cab and resign myself to listening to an hour and a half of Garth Brooks Best Hits and my driver talking about his beloved hound dog for the entire trip.

When we finally get to Shreveport and the rental agency, yet another bright eyed customer service agent is there to meet me… with a train ticket and so many apologies that I want to use my gun to shut him up. Good thing for him, I left it in Nola.

Apparently, every possible rental car has been taken by the droves of people trying to “flee” the storm. I’m dying to make a comment about the futility and intelligence of people trying to outrun a storm on the same day as it hits.

The tow truck driver is nice enough to take me to the train station, after I finally escape the clutches of the rental agent. Luckily for him, there’s a train leaving in less than an hour and after I wave goodbye to the driver and dash inside, I find that the train is on time.

Three stops, and several hours later, I’m finally in New Orleans. A New Orleans in the middle of a torrential downpour, but still my beloved city. From the looks of it, the tropical storm didn’t upgrade to a hurricane and didn’t hit New Orleans head on. Instead, we’re getting tons of rain and wind. A lady on the train was kind enough to chat with me a bit, she I had noticed she had a radio and asked her about the news, and my fears for Nora and our families have lessened. Unfortunately, the tow truck driver was right. There was so much fear out there about the storm hitting New Orleans that the phone lines are still busy, even now after midnight.

I try to call home a couple of times at the station, at a pay phone, but my luck hasn’t held.

The few cabs that are out are in service and flagging one down is nearly impossible in this weather but after much swearing and praying, I finally hit the jackpot and a cabbie with a heart of gold pulls over for me.

Neither rain, nor storm, nor dead of night shall delay this highly annoyed Southerner from reaching her lover.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re finally pulling up to the Creole Townhouse Nora and I call home on the outskirts of the French Quarter. I pay the cabbie, including a hefty tip, before I step out into the pouring down rain and find myself immediately soaked to the skin. I didn’t pack an umbrella for Las Vegas, nor any other type of wet weather gear. Even if I had, I only have my carryon, my luggage probably being in Brazil by now. All those shoes. I’d cry, but I couldn’t tell the difference between rain and tears on my face right now.

Unlocking the gate, I hurry down the alleyway that empties out into the courtyard that we share with our neighbors. Trying to huddle against the wall out of the wind I start digging for my keys.

And digging…

And digging…

I’ve had it. I know Nora is asleep and I don’t want to wake her but I’m tired, and wet, and cranky…

I start pounding on the glass door, peering up the staircase for any glimmer of life. Nora’s car was outside, so I know she’s home, but God, that woman can sleep through almost anything. Heck, the only way to wake her up most weekends is by… let’s not go there, Nikki. You’re miserable remember?

Mister Rolls, who Nora named after a local Zydeco band, comes padding happily down the staircase first. His tail wagging and giving me a happy bark.

“Go get Nora, Mister. Go on,” I tell him through the glass, trying to shoo him upstairs to wake his Mistress.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to as the light nearest the upstairs door goes on, illuminating my very sleepy looking lover. She stomps down the stairs in her pj’s and then stands in front of the door looking at me curiously as she unlocks and opens the door.

Stepping inside, I drop my carryon down on the tile and just stand there, dripping in front of her.

Finally. Home. Mmmmm.

Brrrrr. Wet. Cold.

I shiver in front of my lover wanting a hug so badly but having the good manners to not just grab her and hold on like my life depended on it. Nora would never forgive me if I got her all wet.

“Honey?” I give her a shaky smile at her, my teeth chattering. “I’m home.”

“Nikki? What on earth?” Nora looks me up and down as if I’m an apparition, but the cold pool of water that’s creeping out from me and tickling her toes seems to wake her up to my very real presence.

Locking the door and then stepping back from the wet spot, she gives me a warm smile and a quick peck on the cheek. Wordlessly, she drags me up the stairs and through the upper floor to our bathroom.

“Clothes. Off,” she says as she releases me to go turn on the hot water in the tub and grab my favorite blanket before quickly coming back to help.

God. Taking soaking wet jeans off is a trial in patience and I hate how my skin feels like a cold fish… literally. But Nora makes the chore faster and soon enough I’m stripped and cuddled up in my blanket to sit patiently on the settee, my teeth chattering, limbs cold and clammy, and my entire body shivering. After taking a moment to check on the temperature in the tub and to add my favorite bath salts and bubbles, Nora kneels in front of me.

“You’re a mess,” she says with a smile. “You weren’t supposed to be home for another two days.”

Looking into those gorgeous green eyes, I can only say one thing, “I missed you?”

And it’s true. A month of torturous classes and a seminar in the desert, which no amount of free alcohol and gambling could cheer up. Going to bed without her in my arms and waking up in the morning without the tantalizing smell of fresh brewed coffee that she always makes for us. Going to casinos each night alone or wanting to point out a hundred things a day that catch my eye, and not being able to share with my lover.

Oh yeah. I’d say I’ve missed Nora.

But then, having a flight cancelled and losing my luggage, and having to drive a car that no sane person should have to drive, which only breaks down a few hours later in the middle of the freeway. Sharing a ride with a well–meaning tow–truck driver that seems to be addicted to Garth Brooks and couldn’t stop talking about his favorite dog Missy for an hour and a half.

A train ride full of worry was the last straw and if that cabby, who saved me from walking thirty blocks in the cold rain and wind, hadn’t put me on the doorstep to home…

No, all of it was worth every bit of stress and frustration to get home.

Taking my hand, Nora pulls me up from the settee. Then removing my blanket she continues to hold my hand as she tugs me over to the tub and steadies me as I step into the hot, bubbly water before letting me go.

I’m in heaven.

Sinking into the deep tub, I can’t help the long, low moan that escapes me and I keeping scooting down and down until my head is under. Coming back up, I notice Nora walking out towards the kitchen and I sigh contentedly.

Soaking in the first real warmth I’ve felt since Dallas, I let my mind drift. Silky bubbles up to my neck. My orange tabby, Samantha looking at me from her perch on top of the mantle. Nora’s dog, Mister Rolls, gazing at me with adoring eyes that my cat would never do, from the settee.

I can see Nora in my mind as I hear her padding barefoot over the carpet towards me. Two inches shorter than me she fits into my arms like nothing ever has before. Hair I just love having slip through my fingers and eyes that I love drowning in. Lips that give a lopsided grins and can kiss my breath away. And skin… skin that is more addicting than any drug.

Dipping one last time under water, I come back up and open my eyes to see her looking down at me, looking even better than my memory as she leans close, holding a rocks glass with a good three fingers of something amber. She’s also brought a small plate with a late snack and my stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven’t had anything substantial to eat since Las Vegas.

Water and bubbles stream off of me as I sit back against the high back of our clawfoot tub and smile up at the offering. Taking the glass from her hand, I take a sip and smile. Nora got out some of the good Four Roses bourbon tonight. Perfect.

“Mmmmm… I love how you take care of me,” I tell with with a big smile and take another good sip.

She gifts me with one of those crooked smiles of hers and sits on the edge of the tub, offering me the small plate with a sandwich and some fruit. For a moment I consider forgetting the aged prized bourbon and drag her in here with me for her thoughtfulness, but this is Four Roses bourbon. You don’t just dump a good bourbon and your lover into the tub.

Besides, I don’t want the food to get wet either.

“When you’re done with that, I’ll remind you how much I love taking care of you,” she quips back, giving me a soft kiss. It lasts for a long moment, Nora’s lips and tongue tasting and searching out all the remnants of the liquor on my own lips and tongue.

With a pleased hum, she finally pulls away and stands up, making her way to the bed room and leaving me to finish my bath, food and drink.

Needless to say I don’t take too long, just long enough to let the hot bath and the good bourbon loosen my muscles and chase the last traces of the cold from my bones, and the food fill the empty pit of my stomach.

Soon, I’m wrapped in my robe and padding my way to our bedroom.

Candles and the fireplace have both been lit, giving the room a rosy, comforting low light.

“Here, let me help,” Nora offers as she steps around our bed and gently removes my robe. She’s still dressed in her tank top and pajama bottoms, but I don’t feel shy standing in front of her stark naked. In fact, with the hot look she’s giving me as she looks me up and down, I feel down right wanted.

Reaching up with a hand I stroke her cheek. “If I haven’t said that I missed you something terrible, Sugah…”

Nora smiles and turns her head just enough to kiss my palm. “You have and I’ve missed you… more than you know. A day… a week… a month… it doesn’t matter how long, it was far to long and you were too far away. Next time, I’m going to demand that I get to go to the seminar.”

Stepping up close so my bare body is pressed against hers, I slip my arms around her waist, holding her to me. “Not without me,” I say seriously before I press my lips against hers.

Long, slow moments pass as our lips and tongues reacquaint with each other.

Suddenly I feel myself twirling and falling into bed, with Nora kneeling over me, looking down at me.

“Would you turn over? I missed… well…” Nora blushes and ducks her chin down so that her hair falls to hide her face.

Who am I to argue?

“Tell me what you missed, Sugah?” I whisper over my shoulder as I scoot up the bed and roll over onto my stomach. My voice immediately turns husky as thoughts of what exactly Nora may have missed goes through my mind.

Nora chuckles and settles herself, sitting on my hips, and leans down to whisper, “I’ve missed touching you. You haven’t told me about your trip yet and I figured, considering how you turned up on our doorstep, that you might like a massage?”

Oh.

Well, I can’t say that I’m not somewhat disappointed, but Nora gives the best backrubs this side of heaven.

“Mmmm… if you must,” I reply playfully, letting my right cheek rest on my hands and let my body go slack. The hot bath, a bit of food, and that lovely ten year old bourbon have already done a lot to relax me, so it doesn’t take much to send me into that half–drowsy state as Nora rubs a bit of scented massage oil into her hands and starts on my shoulders.

“Have I ever told you that I love your hands?” I tell her, smiling as her fingers dig into my shoulders.

“Oh, I think you’ve made a comment or two, but I always enjoy hearing it,” Nora chuckles and slides her hands down my arms, rubbing the warm oil into my skin before moving to my back.

I lay there, enjoying her ministrations happily, groaning as she digs her thumbs into the muscles along my spine.

“I’m surprised you got home. I thought the airport was closed,” Nora says softly, shifting back a bit to deeply massage my lower back.

“Mmmmm… they did. I had to drive from Dallas. Well… partly,” I reply simply.

“Partly?”

“How about I tell you tomorrow? It’s rather a long story,” I chuckle slightly. I’m so relaxed that the last day seems a lifetime away, driven away by Nora.

“All right. I’ll keep you to your word though,” Nora comments as she slides off me and to the side so that she can massage my legs, starting at my toes.

She takes her time, even applying more warm oil to her hands and spending time between each toe. An evil chuckle escapes her when I groan even more loudly as her thumbs dig into the arches of my feet.

“You’re so good at this,” I moan minutes later, listening to the crackle of the fire and the sound of her hands sliding over my flesh. Her hands seem to be taking more than sufficient time caressing and massaging my upper thighs and my buttocks, but I’m not complaining.

In fact, I’m starting to feel a bit more heated than what the waves of heat from the fireplace could be responsible for. My body has been reacting to Nora since she first laid her hands on me, but now I’m starting to ache pleasantly and my nipples are pressing hard, and pointedly, into the mattress under me.

Somewhat unconsciously, I press back against her hands, pleased when Nora pauses to place a kiss on each cheek, her hair falling down onto my back.

“Nora?” I ask without asking outright. She knows my body even better than I do.

“Shhhh…” she whispers and sits on my buttocks again, then begins to trail her fingers lightly over my back, a far lighter touch than her massage.

Her fingers traces patterns over and around, up and down my oiled back, and along my sides. Up my arms, her fingers splayed and then reaching under my chin for my hands, entwining with mine. Gently she pulls my arms out, so that my cheek is against the mattress and my arms are above my head.

“Don’t move,” she tells me, then releases my hands to sit back up. I sneak a peek and see her pull off her shirt and hum with delight at the sight.

As her head pops out from underneath the fabric, she looks at me and pouts prettily before tossing it to the floor.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t speak,” I say cheekily.

Her eyes narrow and I hurriedly shut my eye, unable to help smirking slightly.

“Hmmm… you’re right, I didn’t. However, I did imply you should be quiet,” Nora replies as she puts her hands again on my lower back and they slides them up along my spine and along my arms, back to grasp my hands. Her breasts press up against my back, and she licks the edge of my ear whispering, “Or as quiet as you can be.”

“Your pajama bottoms will get ruined with all that oil,” I suggest hopefully, not quiet ready to completely surrender.

“You’re right again,” she whispers and undulates against me, her fingers still clasped with mine, holding me down gently but firmly.

I love the feel of her. From where her thighs and knees come down on either side of my hips, her own pressing down against my buttocks, to her finely toned stomach against my lower back, and to her firm breasts and even firmer nipples poking into my lower shoulderblades. Her arms, usually slightly shorter than my own, but because of how she’s positioned now just right, contrasts nicely with mine, her darker tanned skin flexing against my own lighter toned limbs from shoulder to fingertip. Her lips, which are teasing the edge of my ear, her tongue flicking out now and then to caress and suckle the fleshier bits.

“Remember,” she says into my ear, her voice husky, “Don’t… move…”

Releasing my hands she sits up, pausing only long enough to make sure I’m doing as I was told. Satisfied, she stands up on the bed, smiling as I open my left eye, my right cheek still pressed against the mattress, and peer at her again.

Slowly she hooks her thumbs into the stretchy waistband of her pajama bottoms and eases them down an inch at a time.

God, she’s such a tease.

When they’re finally past her hips, the pj bottoms slip down to pool onto her feet and my lower back, revealing her entire glorious body to me.

“Nora…”

“Shhh…”

I bite my lower lip, trying my best to keep quiet, but I can’t help the low moan that escapes me as my gaze travels from her feet all the way up to her eyes, without a single thing to bar my view.

A moment later the bottoms have joined her shirt on the floor and she’s lowering herself against me again.

But this time I can feel warmth and the subtle wetness on my skin where she sits down on my buttocks. Unconsciously, I press up against her, pleased with the hiss that I hear from her and the pressure as she presses down harder, moving just slightly so that her center is against my left cheek.

Her hands move down to my waist and she slides her fingers underneath, so that they’re between the mattress and me. Slowly, ever so slowly, she slides her hands and fingers up my waist and then back down to my hips. Again she does this, each time going tantalizingly higher. First to my lower ribs, then down. Then back up to my middle ribs, only to remove her hands from my front to my back, to sweep over my back and shoulders. Then down along my arms again, pressing her upper body all along mine and that sweet wet spot firmly against me.

She rocks against me for a few minutes, her breath washing against my ear, only her hips moving. I sneak a couple of pushes back against her, pleased as punch when her breath hitches.

I love her like this, this take charge part of her. She’s always so bent on my own pleasure coming first, taking her time, exploring me, and loving me. She’s doing that tonight too, but… differently. It’s always different with Nora.

Keeping her weight on her knees and thighs, her torso pressed against my back, she releases my hands again. This time however she eases her fingers between my flesh and the mattress at my underarms and cups my breasts in her hands.

Caressing them, kneading them, as my nipples rub against her palms.

My pulse, already going fast, begins to triple under her knowledgeable touch.

The moisture coming from the juncture between her legs is definitely noticeable now, so much so that its gradually made its way down to mingle with the heat and slickness between my own thighs.

“Nora…” I whisper, wanting to either touch her or at get her to let me touch myself.

“Shhhh…” she whispers again and releases my left breast, sliding her hand down underneath me.

She’s slow and torturous about her route as her hips still rocking back and forth, pushing her wet heat against my skin.

I do my best to ease the passage of her hand by trying to prop myself up, but she won’t have it, instead she presses her head against mine, letting more of her weight fall on me until I stop. Giving up I sigh and wrap my fingers around the slats of the headboard, bracing myself that way, so I can at least undulate some.

Her hand reaches my stomach and her fingers splay out, rubbing in slow circles, my hips pressing down against her strong hand and then back up slightly as I rock my hips back against her. She moves down with each undulating wave, the very subtle and slight rhythm we’ve made between us oddly more erotic than most anything we’ve ever done.

She’s so close to me now, her fingertips intermingled with the coarser hair. I know that I’m so wet that she can feel it already, her middle finger just barely touching the very top of my crease.

“Nikki…” Nora bucks against me harder, pressing her soft flesh against my buttock, which presses that finger just a little bit deep along my own intimate flesh.

Both of us moan in tandem and my hand clench as I try to keep myself from turning over and ravaging Nora. Instead, after that short pause, and as one, we start the flexing and sliding again, picking up our subtle dance.

The fingers of her trapped hand are soon cupping me and I press against them every time Nora pushes her hips down onto my backside.

“God Nikki… I love… I love how wet you get for me,” Nora moans into my ear, her voice so soft and low, that pitch that always drives me insane.

Wanting more, I spread my legs some, offering myself to her touch, hoping… praying that she’ll answer my need soon.

Nora kisses my ear again and then down to my shoulderblade, giving herself more reach for what she wants. And oh, how I want her to want it. She’s lower now, having slid her body down two or three inches, enough so that her heat slides down my buttock slightly, making me groan at the feel of her.

Suddenly, between one thrust and the next, her fingers splay me open. All four slide between my outer lips, with two pushing them back so that the warm air of the room hits me and makes me buck against her, out of rhythm. The air feels cool against my wet, slick flesh, despite the fire Nora made earlier, what with our bodies creating an even greater bonfire between us.

Nora keeps sliding against me, even as she begins sliding her four fingers through me, keeping me open and at the same time pressing my very needy, very swollen bud between her middle two fingers. Her other hand is still kneading my right breast in time to her fingers sliding along me, bringing me faster and closer to the edge.

“Nora…” I gasp, moving with her and against her.

“I missed you,” Nora whispers between gasped breaths. “You’ll never know how much.”

“Not… as much as me, “ I moan, my breaths coming just as hard and as fast as my lover’s.

I start to shake, unable to hold back anymore, my body arching back against Nora’s own shuddering body. Soaring, I can’t help the scream of release, urged on by Nora’s own arm clenching tight around me and her body going momentarily rigid before she buries her face in my hair and flies over the edge with me.

Timeless moments later, I finally come to.

Releasing the headboard slates, I lay there spent. Nora’s body slumps partially onto my back, both of us panting softly until the aftershocks have finally disappeared from both of us, our hips no longer trembling. It’s only then that she removes her hand, abet a still a bit too soon in my mind, and brings the fingers up to her mouth. I can hear her sucking on them, cleaning them off thoroughly.

I tilt my head just enough so my lips are closer to hers, my eyes begging for a kiss. With a warm smile she obliges and I can taste myself on her. On her lips. On her tongue. In her mouth. I moan, deepening the kiss a bit awkwardly considering our position, but it works and we kiss, delving and exploring, for long slow minutes.

Finally our lips break apart and Nora shifts slightly to the side, half on, half off of me, one of her hands drifting up and down my back in long caresses.

I attempt to turn around, to fully express to my lover my desire and appreciation of her loving attentions towards me in a very physical and labor extensive way, but Nora won’t have it.

“Shhhh…” she tells me, pressing me back down before I can really even start to turn.

Sighing, I do move onto my side, Nora’s arm slipping around me as she snuggles close, warm and comfortable against my back.

Her soft lips nuzzle in my still wet hair, behind my ear and she whispers, “Welcome home, Baby. I love you.”

Now that’s Southern hospitality at it’s finest.

The End