Sapphic Lust

There weren’t a lot of things that could shake Moira in her red pump heels. Her work as a journalist had toughened her skin. Every day she faced criticism, skepticism, and influential people who were intimidated by her aggressive and unapologetic style of working. It was a powerful skill to be able to manipulate her words just carefully enough to get information from the ordinarily zipped-up mouths of prominent figures in the community- businessmen, politicians, you name it. She could weasel around topics, sleuth through the spins and flips, to viper strike at the exact moment of vulnerability. Her reputation as an unmerciful interrogator proceeded her to the point where police departments all over the city had attempted to hire her.

However, in a low, dark, seedy bar thumping with electronic club music, a beautiful blonde alluded her every sense. 

The woman wasn’t her target by any means. Her target was currently sitting across the room, playing poker and drinking himself into a stupor- so far gone and drunk before Moira even arrived, she couldn’t possibly get a reasonable quote of out him. Tipsy quotes were fine, but this boisterous dark-haired man had already thrown too many insults and false-truths to be considered a good source. However, instead of retiring home to her wine and her bath, she sat sipping a whiskey and watching a waitress float about the room. 

Never had her words failed her. She was a writer, a journalist. She had a word- an opinion- for everything. When those green eyes had turned their focus on her to ask a simple drink order, Moira could barely get the word “whiskey” out when her original intention had been wine.

She sat nursing the drink. The slight burn traveling down her throat with every sip as her eyes kept tight on the red skirt and the black button-down clinging to this woman’s every curve. 

When she flagged said-waitress for another drink, the woman brightly smiled at her before quickly running to the bar and bringing around whiskey drink over.

“I think the table’s going to be here all night. They’re a pretty rowdy bunch- they all come every Friday night,” the blonde informed her as she placed a second round in front of her. “You’ll have better luck next weekend if you come in just before 9 pm.” 

Moira eyed her carefully, “How did you gather I wanted to join the game?” 

The blonde grinned and rolled her eyes, “You’re one of the most notable investigative journalists, and the mafia frequents this bar, it wasn’t rocket science.” 

Before the blonde could turn and walk away, she grabbed her wrist lightly. A firm grip, but soft enough that the woman could pull away. 

“How did you know who I am?” Moira asked, feeling the warm thrum of the woman’s skin underneath her fingers. 

She leaned in and whispered close, “We learn how to spot reporters at the door. We don’t interfere. We just pay close attention, so nothing goes sideways.” She leaned her even closer, her eyes narrowing in like a conspirator, “… I also googled you on my break in the back. You looked familiar, but I couldn’t place your name.” 

Moira smiled lightly, releasing the gentle wrist she held onto, “Well, thank you for not breaking my cover.” She couldn’t stop staring at those red, plump lips. She must have spaced out when she heard. 

“Well, if you stay for another ten minutes, I’ll let you buy me a drink after my shift’s done,” the blonde interjected, slowly and carefully planning her next words, “You know… to protect your cover. A beautiful woman like yourself doesn’t sit alone at bars.” 

“What’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“Emma, can I buy you a drink?” 

Heat flamed Moira’s face as she nodded. The woman walked away after giving her the slyest wink, knowing that Moira would be staring as she walked away. Moira knew that her face was flushed as she took a long sip of her second round, eyeing the slight swing in the blonde’s step as she moved back towards the bar. 

What an interesting turn of events indeed. 

Three hours, several drinks later, and numerous flirtatious lines later led them to a cozy night curled up in a booth. There were soft touches to knees, hot whispers into each other's ears, and a very sexually frustrated reporter. She didn't even notice as her target got dragged out of the bar drunk into the empty street. 

As last call was called out, Moira took a gamble. Gambles were never something Moira staked bets on. But with this delicious blonde as a reward, she knew that she had to try.

“Can I make sure you get home safe?” 

“Are you always such a gentlewoman?” Emma teased, her fingers playing with the soft curls of Moira’s dark brown hair. 

“In all honesty, I don’t do this much,” Moira admitted, running her fingers along the soft skin of Emma’s thigh under the table. “I’m married to my job, but I would certainly like to date you.” 

Moira wasn’t lying. Emma was the only person who could tongue-tie the smoothest talker, but throughout the night, she had learned that Emma was hard-working, quick, and witty. She had a nephew that was her world that she loved to spoil, and she worked nights to help her sister out babysitting during the day. And that, she had plans to own her own bar one day. 

“Date?” Emma looked surprised, “Most women just want to fuck me. I’m too much to handle, they say.”

Moira pressed her hand further up her skirt, reveling in the sharp and surprised gasp that she heard in response, “While I do certainly want to fuck you, Emma, I am not most people.”

Emma squirmed as she didn’t hold off, letting her fingers slide dangerously near where Moira most certainly knew would be slick and wet, “… and if I can’t convince you tonight, I make a mean breakfast.” 

“Fuck,” Emma gasped, closing her eyes and moaning into the soft touches just over her underwear, “Pay the check and let’s get out of here.”

Moira grinned as she flagged the waiter for her check and called a cab. 

After thirty minutes of handing over her phone so Emma could input her address, a very short drive, and a sly game of teasing Emma in the cab, whispering dirty things she wanted to do to in her ear the whole way home, Emma practically pulled Moira out of the car and into her apartment. They barely made it through the door before Emma was pulling her dark black trench coat off. 

“Please fuck me,” Emma whispered against her neck as she left hott, open-mouthed kisses as the coat fell to the floor. Moira stepped into the apartment, carefully lifting her head and kissing the blonde with a fierce and demanding kiss. There was something so delectable to know that this gorgeous, alluring waitress was begging for her- her fingers buried in her pussy. She barely had time to look at the small New York apartment before they moved towards the bedroom. 

The bedroom was soft and feminine, sparse- she knew that Emma was saving up for her own bar- or at least the small glimpse she saw before she was leaning Emma down on the bed, kissing her all the way down while she directed her thigh between those incredibly soft-toned legs, parting them.

Moira unattached her lips from Emma’s and looked down at her. Her blonde hair was cascading over the sheets, her neck and chest were flushed, rapidly rising and falling with the quick breath. Her limbs were perfectly entangled with her own. She knew that the alcohol she had consumed drove the confidence to engage in such a way, but she couldn’t be mad at it. Emma was devastatingly beautiful and jaw-dropping. If she could scoop her up for even a night, preferably much- much longer if the woman was willing to keep her around, but she wanted to make sure. 

“Are you sure about this?” Moira asked, beginning to tugs at the buttons of Emma’s black service button-down shirt, slowly revealing soft skin that Moria wanted to leave red lip-prints on. 

“Did you not take my begging as enthusiastic consent?” Emma giggled as she pulled at Moira’s black cocktail dress, ripping it off over her head before groaning, “Oh fuck me.”

Moira smirked. She knew she kept in good shape, but it was always rewarding to hear the response. “I want to be clear about expectations.” 

“The only expectation I have is that you should give me a billion orgasms and breakfast in the morning,” Emma confirmed. She pulled Moira back towards her, wanting to climb this woman’s beautiful body and scream her name until she couldn’t think anymore. 

“A billion? That’s quite a few,” Moira giggled (and since when did she giggle?), “It might take more than a night.”

“Well, then should I expect breakfast for the foreseeable future?” Emma joked, poking at her stomach, “God, how do you even find time to have abs?”

“I spend a lot of time running around the city,” Moira answered as she finally threw open the shirt, revealing a gorgeous torso and breasts hidden beneath a black lace bra, “But I’ll clear my schedule for you.”

“Too much talking, more kissing,” Emma declared, pulling the brunette down onto her and flipping her over, straddling the scantily-clad reporter. Continuing their sloppy kisses, Moira began hiking up the red skirt that she had been eyeing all night and slowly revealing more of that exquisite soft skin. She could hear the moans from above her as she ran her hands up and down her new lover’s ass, grabbing and holding on as if for dear life.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Moira thought as she felt nips and bites along her neck, sucking at all her right points. How could this woman read her so well? She gasped as hands brushed the underside of her bra, expertly unclasping the front clasp, and revealing her breasts. 

“God, you are fucking hott, woman!” 

Moira managed a small chuckle as Emma’s head descended and began lathering her breasts with attention. She grabbed onto the blonde hair, gripping it, and pulling her closer in as her body relaxed and started giving her body over to this stranger. She had not felt this serene in so long after being on-edge at every point in the rest of her life. It was uncanny how Emma knew precisely how long to suck and where to bite and the spots to gently touch. 

It didn’t even shock her when she felt Emma’s fingers playing with the lining of her underwear, and she felt how absolutely drenched she was. 

Quickly shoving the underwear to the side, she felt Emma’s first finger slide easily, accompanied by her soft moan. The second finger went in slower, a bit more hesitant, but she was already pleading, “Another one, please.”

With three fingers filling her up, Moira breathed heavily, “Fuck me, Emma.”

Emma grinned and wasted no time as she circled her clit with her thumb while pumping her fingers in and out of the brunette. Moira sobbed as she held on as Emma sucked at her nipples, rolling them between her teeth and switching to her tongue to soothe them down before attacking them again with gusto. 

Moira inhaled deeply as she felt her orgasm rising. 

“I knew the second you walked into the bar that I wanted to be in between these legs,” Emma whispered hotly in her ear. 

“Fuck!” Moira cried as she exploded over Emma’s fingers, her wetness seeping down over them as she trashed and kicked up the sheets on the bed. Emma continued to plunge her fingers in deeper and slower as Moira slowly came down from her high. 

Before she had much time for recovery, Emma was already flipping her over onto her knees. She didn’t even have the strength to argue as she felt her panties get ripped from her legs- whatever, she could buy a new pair. All she knew was that she wanted more of whatever Emma would give her. 

Nimble hands spread her knees apart, widening her stance out. What she did not expect was the hott tongue flat against her pussy.

“OH MY GOD. Oh my god… oh my god,” Moira screamed as she tried to stabilize herself. She couldn’t help but start rocking her hips against those sinfully delicious lips. The sound of sucking and guzzling filled the room as Moira pleaded for more, moaning Emma’s name repeatedly. 

“Don’t be alarmed. I promise it’s going to be worth it,” were the only words she heard before the distinct sound of vibrations caught up to her ear. 

Suddenly she felt the vibrations on her clit, and she felt her second orgasm slam into her. She cried as she thrashed, rocking her hips back into the source as she took her second orgasm to its head. 

Slapping the sheets with her hand, Moira finally signaled to Emma that she couldn’t take it anymore. The vibrator was shut off and thrown haphazardly to the side of the bed, and she was flipped around, in a daze, but was looking up into the smug-shit-eating grin of Emma who was clearly pleased with herself. 

“Do you know how incredibly fucking hott it is to hear you scream out my name?” She giggled before kissing up and down her stomach, “to know that I am the one who gets to fuck you?” 

Moira couldn’t help but simply grin. The adrenaline and post-orgasm glow still floating around her bubble of happiness. She hadn’t felt this carefree in a while. 

“I think you might have killed me,” Moira laughed. It wasn’t a lie. She was currently seeing stars as Emma was waking up more parts of her body. “I think you might have to hop on.”

Emma looked up at her, confused. Moira raised an eyebrow.

“You mean…?” Emma asked, putting a finger to her lips in question. 

Moira nodded with an almost sheepish grin. 

Emma practically growled and felt her eyes roll into the back of her head, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“As long as it’s underneath you, worshipping your pussy,” Moira started, grabbing Emma’s finger still coated in her juices, “I am sure,” she sucked it clean, “It will be a fantastic way to go.”

“Woman!” Emma was already clambering up, “You will be lucky if I ever left you leave this apartment.”

Emma was already pulling her underwear off, swinging her legs across and lowering her pussy down onto Moira’s waiting lips.

Whatever Moira thought Emma was going to taste like would never compare to the real thing. She was sweet. She wrapped her arms around those toned legs and pulled her tightly down, savoring whatever amount of time she would be there.