The scent of Lulah’s excitement still filled the vixen’s nostrils, like that of a fresh-cut bouquet of roses. Even though the woman had beat a hasty retreat, it wouldn’t do her any good. The pheromones were engineered for a long-lasting effect.
An eager smile passed across her furry face. She’d be back.Sooner than later.
***
Lulah told her car where to go and sat back in the seat, her mind going a thousand different ways at once. Her hands were antsy now, restless, wanting to move all over her body. Sweat popped out on her skin in large beads. Her breathing had become heavy, her pulse quickened.
Closing her eyes, she fought to resist the resurgence of old memories. How long had it been? She couldn’t remember exactly how many years had passed, but she knew exactly when, where, and who. It had been during the three months of Flight Control Training at the Cape before being assigned to Redstone. Her roommate in the dorm, the sweet, funny girl with the hippie name, Buttercup. A sun-kissed California girl assigned to Mojave with an all-over tan and a long, flowing mane of strawberry-blonde hair. The two had hit it off instantly. Buttercup had been a lot wiser in the ways of the world than the country girl, Lulah. Yet, by the time they left Florida, she was no longer the naïve little Kentucky hillbilly.
In this day and age, such occurrences were no longer considered scandalous or salacious. Experimentation was not only accepted but encouraged in modern society, not only for women but men as well. Lulah’s special one had been Buttercup. Never, at any time in her life, had she ever doubted her preference would always be the strong, masculine arms of a man. Still, her time with Buttercup would always be a precious memory, locked in that special vault everyone has in their mind where they keep their most beloved and cherished memories. She’d even corresponded with the Californian beauty for many years afterward, sending Christmas e-cards and birthday well-wishes, until jobs, marriages and families slowly took precedence.
But as the memories rushed back, she was surprised at how vivid they were, how time had failed to take the edge off them. Almost as if it had been just yesterday, she closed her eyes and saw that toned, tan body beneath her, felt the delicate hands move over her own body, exploring and exciting it at the same time. She felt her nipples grow hard and sensitive, remembering those soft lips around them. She felt that old pile of embers she’d thought long ago extinguished, emit heat once again.
Amber had dosed her with whatever chemicals she emitted when she wanted to mate; of that, there was no doubt. That in itself did not bother her. The vixen was doing what she did. Just because it’d made her horny didn’t mean she had to succumb to her. It wasn’t like she’d hypnotized her.
Right?
The thing bothering her was how much she was enjoying the thoughts of something she’d not thought about in years. It’d been one of those things you decide to try, you do it, it’s a special moment, but you know it’s never going to define you. So, you say ‘thanks for the memories,’ and ‘let’s all move on.’ For years, that had been how she’d filed it away. And yet, suddenly, now those feelings came rushing back, and she found herself excited by the thought of them. Was it just the pheromones? Or was there more to it than that?
She was afraid of the answer. Lulah wasn’t generally attracted to other women. And yes, she’d had plenty of opportunities over the years. In this era of promiscuity and openness, it was estimated that at least eighty percent of all women in America considered themselves at least passively bisexual, and over sixty percent would take at least three female lovers before they turned fifty. Buttercup had been a unique, memorable exception. There had been both physical and emotional attraction there. It had more to do with her as a person and less to do with gender or curiosity and experimentation. Never had any other woman came close to eliciting those same feelings and passions from Lulah.
Until now.
She exhaled loudly in frustration as her hands moved down over her belly and came back up to clutch her breasts. Her nipples were so hard and sensitive now, the cups of her bra were starting to irritate them. She felt the moisture between her legs soak the crotch of her panties. She slid her hand down between her legs, moving it up and down against the fabric of her jeans, but this only served to heighten her frustration. At the same time, a moment of clarity hit her like a ton of bricks. It was more than just the chemicals. She was attracted to Amber. Maybe not the same way she’d wanted Buttercup. But she wanted her, alright. Granny’s Jesus! She’d lived in fear of this for almost two decades. And the one woman she would’ve put at the very back of the line was the one woman who now turned her on!
God, but life was a cruel jester!
Be that as it may, she, of all people, knew we were but pawns in the games it played. Sometimes, it was futile to fight what some called fate. And right now, she didn’t care. Ordering the car to darken the tint on the window to max concealment, she undid her jeans and raised her ass off the seat, pushing both jeans and panties down past her knees. Pressing one foot to the door console and mounting the other against the dashboard, she reclined the seat back just enough and let her fingers go to work.
The cockpit was filled with her moans as her fingers worked magic between her legs like only she knew how. She slid a hand up her shirt and pushed her bra up and over her breasts,
