LipstickLeslee Read online

  “I-I could still do your makeover thing. You know, turn you into a femme?” I hated the tone to my voice, as if I were her mother attempting to talk her into eating her broccoli. My gaze raked her clothing. Might as well be broccoli. The clothes she wore were just as boring as that disgusting veggie, and almost as ugly.

  “Really? You’d do that for me and—”

  “My, my, what have we here?” The deep voice accompanied by a definite male presence hovered at my right shoulder. I still held Leslee’s arm in my grip. But overpowering rich-man’s cologne engulfed me and had me letting go of her and moving two steps back to escape it.

  Leslee crossed her arms over her chest. I noted with surprise how it lifted her breasts and made them appear even larger than before. Oh yeah, definite dress-up possibilities there. Find a low-cut, tight dress and show off some cleavage, get all these dikes’ juices flowing.

  What the fuck? Where did that come from, Melanie?

  “Go away, Charles. I’ve got it covered,” Leslee said to the man, her eyes glinting with hatred. Whoa, if looks could grab a man by his balls and choke him with his own testes, that would be the look right there.

  His pale-blue eyes had a natural sleepy look to them, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. But the rest of him was every bit Armani- and Wall Street-awake, from the impeccably tailored suit to the shiny duds on his big feet to the well-manicured fingernails. He thrust a hand through his thick, blond hair, assuring that every strand remained smooth and in its place. Gold and diamonds twinkled on his fingers from the disco lights flickering into the vestibule from the dance floor.

  I immediately took a not-sure-why dislike to him. He looked sleek, but something told me he had skins he regularly shed to fit his purposes. Like a slimy snake.

  His gaze raked me and I shivered with revulsion. He reached for my hand. “Well, hello there. I’m Charles Snyder. And you are?”

  I allowed him one quick shake of my hand for manners’ sake but immediately yanked it back. Clammy. His hand seemed clammy and¼I wasn’t sure, sort of dirty or something.

  “Melanie Kirtright. I work with Leslee at Starling Hotel.”

  Leslee shifted her stance and rubbed at her temple. “Melanie, this is my ex-husband. We own Pussycat’s together.”

  Aha, of course. The ex.

  “You’re the one she mentioned calling. Have you come up with your costumes yet?” He licked his lips and practically raped me with his eyes. Nausea pitched around in my belly. What was it about this man that made me feel so ill and on guard?

  I jerked a rescue-me look at Leslee. She glanced away, her face flushing red, and did the whistling-distracted expression.

  “Your costumes?” I asked.

  “Yes, for the contest.” He slid his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on the heels of his snazzy dress shoes. He glanced at his Rolex and grinned, revealing a mouthful of veneers and serious dental work. Ick. “It starts in less than an hour. Already got the DJs for WXLX Radio setting up. It’s going to make an anonymous radio star out of you.”

  “Um, let’s get something straight here. I’m not going to be in the contest, and I don’t want to be a ‘star’. I’m just going to help her get into her costume.”

  He cocked his head, reminding me of a chicken on the farm back home where Savanah still lived. “No need to worry, it’ll be anonymous. Besides, that’s not what Leslee told me¼”

  “I—uh¼ Crap.” Leslee blew out a breath and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I-I’m sorry, Melanie. I just assumed you’d¼”

  Charles chuckled hollowly. He bent back and checked out my butt. The scumbag didn’t even try to hide his scrutiny. “Mmmm. You know what they say, ‘assuming makes an ass—and a very hot one at that—out of you and me’.”

  “Charles!” Leslee shrieked. She jammed her fists onto her hips. “What is your problem? Have some respect, for Christ’s sake. She’s my friend.”

  His nostrils flared. He bored his ice-blue gaze into her, and the voice that came out of him reminded me of the possessed girl in that old devil movie when she was tied to the bed and spewing her wrath. “I don’t give a damn if she’s your top lover. The promo is out. The whole city and all of our regulars are expecting some big, sizzling stuff. You don’t deliver, bitch, you will pay.”

  “But I don’t want to—”

  He threw up a hand, halting her words, and spun on his heel. He was gone on a grumble and a few choice curse words, leaving us behind in his thick cloud of cologne.

  Hmm, I was starting to get the picture. In fact, it didn’t take a genius to see that Leslee was as excited about this contest as a tick on a dog’s balls. I knew without a doubt that this man had somehow coerced her into it, which explained her panic and tears.

  “What. A. Fucking. Asshole.” I snorted. “You were married to that piece of shit?”

  Leslee’s shoulders slumped and she cried into her hands. Her body shook, looking frailer than before. Something melted a small spot in the ice I’d formed around my heart after finding my own ex screwing a woman in the hotel hot tub on our honeymoon night six months ago.

  I rubbed that spot on my chest where the ache started to bloom into warmth and took Leslee in my arms. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t word that quite right, did I?”

  “No, no,” she whispered, clinging to me, melding her curvy body to mine. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. He has a way of making enemies on sight.”

  Out of spite for the ogre, I tucked her closer and she sighed, chipping away at the ice in my chest. I petted her hair, rubbed the long length of her back, inhaled her sweet feminine scent. “What can I do, sweetie? I’ll do anything to show that bastard what a real bitch is like. Anything.”

  She sniffled and drew back so that she remained in the circle of my arms. Patrons entered the bar, slowly packing it to the hilt. Waitresses and “waiters” zipped by the hostess podium, balancing trays of neon-colored shots, mugs of beer, and appetizers. “Really? Anything?”

  “Anything,” I repeated. God, how I longed to put that motherfucker in his place. That was when I realized what had nagged at me about him.

  He reminded me of Will, that sex-addicted son of a bitch.

  “Then get on stage with me. Do it, Melanie, please just do it. Be daring and help me to ‘deliver’ him a contest that will give me the control for once, something that puts me in the driver’s seat instead of him.”

  Aw, man. How could I resist that challenge and those pleading green eyes? I thought of the fact that I would have to hold her close to give her the crash-dance lessons and then again on stage in front of all these drooling lesbians. A zap of something naughty and delicious lit in my loins and thrummed through my veins.

  Wow. Soo tempting to say yes, if anything, just to find out what it would be like to provocatively hold another woman while dancing for a bunch of lesbians¼

  I glanced over and saw that arrogant ass behind the bar shooting orders at the bartenders. Gone were the smiles and good-natured banter I’d witnessed not five minutes ago. Charles’ voice boomed across the room. He pounded his fist on the bar, tipping over drinks and sending customers and employees scrambling out of the way. Here was a man who could instill turmoil and fear by simply walking into a room. It was a stretch, but maybe he was even worse than Will?

  Charles kicked the trashcan. Then as he exited into a back room, he swatted the girlie-looking bartender on the rear. She screeched and her face flushed a ruddy shade. Yeah, I didn’t think it could ever be possible, but there just might be another man on this planet worse than Will.

  I swallowed a lump of nerves and tried to rein in the butterflies fluttering around in my belly. “Okay. You got it. Let’s put you in the driver’s seat, baby.”

  Chapter Two

  Leslee: Fantasy Come True

  I didn’t know why I couldn’t control my emotions, or why I’d gone and begged Melanie to come here and witness my meltdown. I’d had a girl-crush on her ever since I’d hire
d her at the Starling Hotel. I mean, who wouldn’t have a crush on her? Just look at her, all feminine and hot-as-sin gorgeous in her tight little black cocktail dress that revealed a deep-shadowed cleavage and hugged her curvaceous body from tits to toned thighs.

  God help me, the things I could do with her, to her¼

  Melanie paced in my cramped Pussycat’s office, back and forth like a caged feline digging her claws in and set to pounce at the very moment the cage was opened. And holy geez, would you look at how the dress clung to her firm ass every time she spun on those spiky heels. She’d ripped her fur coat off and the clip out of her hair in a temper once we’d closed the door to my office, so her long, auburn hair now flew out in a cape of silk around her shoulders and back, making me itch to tangle my fingers in the silky ropes.

  “That jerk. Why did you marry that son of bitch? No, wait. I’d rather know why you didn’t tell me you’d been married—and to a man?”

  I shrugged. “Is it that hard to believe? Am I really that much of a butch that you’d think I couldn’t possibly be with a man?”

  “Are you serious? You’ve been waving your gay flag ever since I can remember. And butch or not has nothing to do with it. Why would I ever assume you were man material, given your voluntary outing at work?” She licked her lips with an angry swipe of her tongue.

  My mouth watered. I imagined kissing those full, red-painted lips, tracing my tongue from her mouth to her nipple, tasting her salty flesh. My own nipples puckered beneath the thin, stretchy fabric of the white dress I now wore. She’d just chosen it for me to wear on stage from a costume rack I kept in my office specifically for this stupid shit Charles always came up with. The dress was a distraction, given she’d burst into my office, raked my body with a look of pure fire and picked it out for me without so much as a single second of hesitation. But I knew I needed to concentrate on getting this contest over with to get my asshole ex off my back, yet I just couldn’t focus, not with Melanie’s sweet, floral fragrance drifting across the small space and making me dream of inhaling her pussy’s aroma while I devoured and licked her cunt.

  And focus evaded me too, due to the unexpected excitement at the slick fabric clinging to my bare breasts and hips, and strangely, I didn’t mind the feminine aura that engulfed me.

  “You’re angry at me for not being honest, and I’m sorry,” I said as I bent down and slipped my feet into a pair of black stilettoes that matched hers. She’d also chosen them for me from a box beneath the rack. I tightened the straps and stood, awkwardly balancing myself, unaccustomed to the platforms when all I usually wore were flat loafers or Nikes. “Since I’m your boss at Starling, I felt it was more appropriate to keep our personal lives separate from the hotel as much as possible. It wasn’t important.”

  “Wasn’t important?” she shrieked and whirled around to face me. Her mouth was open and set to speak further, but the words seemed to lodge in her throat. Her eyes widened and her cool gaze panned down my body, up, then fell on my breasts. My areolas hardened at the intimate yet innocent look. I was almost certain she’d never been with a woman before.

  And I prayed her first would be me.

  “I-I¼ Wowza,” she stammered. “You look¼great. You should wear dresses more often.”

  My face heated up. I shook my head and tried to take a step, but I only succeeded in wobbling like a newborn baby deer. “Uh, no thank you. Not my thing.”

  Her gaze warmed as it touched me even more, from my long, bare legs to the swell of my hips and upward to my tits. My nipples puckered tighter, tenting against the fabric. Her eyes shifted back and forth, studying each aching knot, then as if she caught herself, she jerked her gaze to the side.

  “I don’t agree. I think it fits you well. All you need now is a little makeup and maybe a sexy long wig.”

  I took a careful step toward my desk, anything to grab on to before I busted my ass. “Oh no, please not makeup.” I sighed as Charles and his threat to my friends and our community echoed in my head. “But whatever it takes to get through this, I guess. There’s a wig in the box next to the—”

  I stumbled. Melanie’s arms clapped around me, catching me against her just before I tumbled to the floor. Our bodies crashed together, breasts to breasts, hips to hips, just like when she’d hugged me out by the hostess podium. Since she’d stripped her coat off, though, I got a dose of her hot body without the thickness of the fur between us.

  Mm, she was all woman, soft, fragrant, warm and yielding. I clung to her and closed my thighs together beneath the stupid dress, trying like hell to hold the sudden gush of cream inside my pussy. But it was futile. Melanie’s nearness made my groin go all pulsing hot and achy, and juices oozed out, wetting my labia.

  “Whoa,” she said huskily. “Careful there.” Her big brown eyes were just inches from mine, her red-painted lips parted in wonder and her sweet breath fanned my chin. I clamped my lower lip between my teeth, fighting to keep from closing my mouth over hers.

  Rein it in, Leslee. You’re her supervisor at the hotel, and besides, she’s not into women.

  I cleared my throat, which had gone tight with emotions I didn’t recognize. “Sorry. These stupid shoes aren’t exactly what I’m used to.”

  “It’s okay. Let’s just get this done.” She stroked my hair and tucked it behind my ear, her gaze following her movements with a strange look of fascination. “You have such potential, really, you do. Would you mind if I indulged in a quick but drastic makeover for you? Just for the contest?”

  With major reluctance, I untangled myself from her embrace and wobbled my way to my desk. I perched myself on the edge and held on for dear life. “Sure. Drastic. Have at it. Turn me into a fucking hetero clown.”

  Melanie’s laugh was a tinkle of delight edged with her usual sex appeal that had always had me panting like a mesmerized dope. She dug in the box I’d indicated and drew out a long, black wig and a makeup container I’d paid little attention to in the past when the girls and patrons would come in here for theme-party costumes. Melanie set the wig aside then flipped the box lid open and set it on the desk at my hip. I got a glimpse of eyeliner pencils, an array of glittery eye shadow and rouge powders, fake lashes, brushes and a rainbow selection of lipsticks.

  “You’re not going to be a clown, silly. I’m going to turn you into the hottest chick this side of the Ohio River. You’ll have every lesbian out there drooling over you.” She flipped open a tube of tan liquid stuff and started spreading it over my forehead, nose and cheeks. Her fingers were tender pads of pressure and wispy circular motions over my skin, which came to life at her every touch. The hair on my head stood on end and my eyelids grew heavy as she worked on me.

  I tried to ignore how she stood to my right with one leg between mine, practically straddling my right thigh to get in close to her subject. She hummed as she went to work, her eyes sparkling as she studied me and painted my face as if she were touching a brush to canvas.

  Yes, in a matter of twenty minutes or so, I’d become her art project, and though I usually got off on taking charge in a relationship, there was something about her manner with me that made some odd sense of surrender creep up from my soul.

  “There.” Melanie leaned away and studied her work. “You look¼ Wow, you look just gorgeous.”

  I snorted and rolled my eyes. My face did indeed feel as if it had been caked like a clown’s. “Right.”

  “No, really.” She reached for a twirl-up tube of lipstick in cherry red and drew it around my lips. Next she smoothed my hair back and positioned the wig on my head. The itchy heaviness of it suffocated my scalp.

  “Wow.” She gave me a once-over from wig to lips to breasts and back again. It seemed a hot laser gun had zapped me all over, and my nipples tented out under the silky fabric of my dress yet again. Here gaze took exaggerated note of it. “You like it, don’t you? You’re getting all turned-on, I can tell by the way your nipples are pebbling against your dress.”

  I gasped and look
ed down at the offending “pebbles”. “Uh, no, it’s just cold in here.”

  The melody of her sudden laughter filled my ears like a soothing song. She slid her arms around me, her legs still straddling mine, and pulled me into a tight embrace. Areolas grazed over areolas, arms encircled femininity and soft curves. Her perfume filled my lungs and the scent of her clean hair teased my nostrils. Now that she had moved in closer, I could feel her pussy lips pressing on top of my thigh. Her panties were damp, her juices soaking through the fabric and onto my skin.

  She pulled in a sigh to calm her chuckles and turned her head to kiss my cheek, just a friendly pat, I’m sure.

  But I had turned my face toward her at the same time and our cheeks merged, the corners of our lips meeting ever so slightly.

  “Leslee¼” Melanie whispered, panting. “I-I¼”

  I stiffened but didn’t push her away. “I’m sorry, Mel, I didn’t mean to—”

  Her mouth was on mine before I knew what her intent had been. Melanie kissed me like no other woman before her. She slid her hands up between our breasts and held my face in her palms, as if she adored me to pieces. Her mouth was a wet haven of tongue and smooth, full lips devouring mine. She moaned into the kiss, and suddenly we were both clutching each other as if there were no contests or tomorrows or yesterdays.

  Just now.

  Just the two of us.

  I dragged her up closer and her warm pussy dragged along my leg. She whimpered at the contact, and it was then that she became brave and closed one hand over my aching breast. The sensations that bombarded my body—my mouth and tongue, my leg, my breasts, the skin of my palms—all culminated in my pussy. It throbbed and moistened as it had never done before.

  I’d wanted Melanie ever since I laid eyes on her during her interview for my food and beverage assistant position at the hotel. But I’d always assumed my fantasies would be the extent of it. Never did I guess I’d have her in my arms all willing and whimpering for more. I mean, she’s a staunch heterosexual woman. Why would I ever think otherwise?