The night definitely hadn’t been going as Jasmine had planned. Not planned as such, but as she had expected or hoped. She had, after all, left the house feeling like a million bucks. Squeezing her petite frame into even smaller jeans, a plain black tee tucked in with just enough of a plunge to the v-line to show off some of her cleavage. A leather jacket and knee high boots finished the outfit off, but she was mostly thrilled that her eyebrows and make-up were on point.
Jasmine had touched up her lippy before she left, examining her dark skin and darker, and straightened long hair. As usual, she had got ready with her favourite beats pumping, and was excited for a good night out.
But her usual bar was different that night. The whole feel of the place was different, and she wasn’t sure if it was the younger crowd, or the change of music or even the few new staff members running around trying to keep up with the hectic pace.
It was her preferred drinking hole as the craft beer outpriced a lot of guys and usually the freshly legal crowd. But tonight, the music was a bit more chilled than usual, the crowd certainly younger than Jasmine’s thirty years, and there were more guys sitting on their own around the horseshoe bar.
None of these guys had a chance of getting Jasmine’s attention. Not once she had noticed her, sitting at a small table on the other side of the bar. She was a natural redhead, that kind of colour people call ‘strawberry blond’ when they don’t want to be known as a ‘ginger’. Even with ringlets, her hair still gathered halfway down her back. Her pasty skin was speckled with faint freckles, all the more off setting her emerald eyes.
The very same eyes that Jasmine felt were stealing looks right back at her, before shyly looking away when caught, returning her attention to her female drinking buddy. Her friend seemed bubbly and outgoing, using broad hand gestures during conversation and laughing loud enough most of the bar could hear her.
By contrast, the gorgeous redhead barely seemed to get a word in all night, politely smiling and nodding. But as the night and the drinks continued, the mystery redhead was now not only holding her gaze when caught, but smiling right back at her. It had been a few years since Jasmine had been with a woman, not for any other reason than she fussy, be it a boy or girl. And this woman, Liz, as Jasmine would later find out, certainly ticked all the right boxes. Muted red lipstick, green eyes, and a figure almost as slim as her own.
Jasmine watched as Liz’s friend stood, plopped a cigarette into her mouth and headed out the front. Liz took the opportunity to lay a firm gaze back to Jasmine, who was equally transfixed on her. With a quick raise of her eyebrows, Liz signalled over her shoulder, before standing and walking out the back of the bar. Jasmine threw down the last mouthful of her French martini and followed.
Liz was waiting for her, leaving the bathroom door ajar, but blocking it with her body at the same time. Jasmine’s smile broadened as she saw her standing there, and for the first time noticed just how short Liz’s loose black skirt was.
The door was barely locked behind them before Liz had Jasmine pinned against the cold tiles of the wall, her lips devouring her neck and her own lips.
Jasmine could already feel her pussy gushing. She’d forgotten how much she loved kissing girls. Men kiss with lust, and while she found the same from women, she also thought they kissed a lot more passionately. And softly. No stubble. Or worse yet these days, big bristly beards.
‘Liz,’ she introduced herself between lashes of her tongue. Jasmine returned the favour before biting Liz’s bottom lip.
She was so lost in the moment, so caught up in the excitement, she didn’t even realize Liz had unbuttoned her jeans until she felt the chill of her fingertips sink beneath her lace thong. Her knees weakened as she let out a gasp.
Jasmine rushed to undo Liz’s shirt, just enough to reveal her cleavage, and yanked her bra down. She immediately snatched up her erect pink nipple in her mouth, rolling her tongue around, sucking hard on it.
Liz moaned and shifted her fingers down from Jasmine’s clit, pushing two through her flesh flange, keeping her palm firm against her clit.
Jasmine resisted biting hard against the nipple in her mouth, and struggled to keep her legs from giving way beneath her. Liz worked her hard with her fingers and palm while pulling her head tight against her breast. Instead she lifted her head and bit into the nape of Liz’s neck, moaning through her teeth.
Liz had brought her to the brink. Every nerve shuddered and pulsed, euphoria taking hold, tossing Jasmine wildly into the sky.
‘Fuck,’ Jasmine whispered, her mouth now nibbling on Liz’s ear. Her pussy spasmed, but Liz didn’t give up, instead she kept up her pace and Jasmine happily rode the endless waves until finally, her legs gave in.
Her back slid down the wall, Liz moved with her, gently slowing her hand to a caress, and returning her lips to Jasmine’s.
It took very little for Jasmine to reach under Liz’s skirt and slide her knickers aside. She was pleased to feel the moist, hairy pussy greeting her finger. Liz shifted position, directing Jasmine’s digits to enter her.
Immediately her fingers were engulfed by the warmth. With every moan, Liz tightened her lips around the base of Jasmine’s fingers.
Jasmine’s eyes lit up at the tight grip around her fingers, and briefly noted to herself to pick up some kegel balls soon. She hooked her fingers forward, rubbing Liz’s g-spot, an action met with a surge from Liz and an impassioned kiss. Jasmine could feel her starting to peak, rocking back and forth against her fingers. She could hear her breath quicken.
Finally, Liz tightened completely, before quivering and releasing her grip, her body surging into her lover. As Liz came and moaned, Jasmine grinned from ear to ear, relishing the gasps in her ear, the warmth on her fingers.
By the time Jasmine was back in her seat, awaiting a new French martini, the haze of her orgasm and the quick post coital kisses seemed like a lifetime ago. As she sipped on the chilled pink drink, she watched as Liz returned to her own seat, the pair sharing a sneaky smirk to one another.
Jasmine nearly spat out her drink when she saw Liz’s friend returning from her smoke.
‘All that in the time it took to smoke a cigarette!’ she laughed to herself. When she took another sip, her fingers brushed beneath her nose, and she smelled Liz’s sweetness once again.
She thought about how nice it would be to spend a full night with her, or many nights even, but then, she wouldn’t have this thrill. This spontaneity. This crazy, unplanned, unexpected encounter.
So she paid her bill, drained her glass, and with a smile plastered across her face, Jasmine left, never looking back.
Since then she has continued to write, usually just for her own enjoyment, but now hopes to share that pleasure with a wider audience.
She likes to think she’s a Carrie but with fantasies of being a Samantha. Or is that the other way around?’
With 11 books already published and more on the way!