Are We Dancers

Mari stepped lightly through the congested streets. The cars surged and wove, the wind whipped, the crowds tangled, but she was apart from it all. Her skirt fluttered in the gusts between skyscrapers. The knee-length cotton was dark cobalt, like the sheen black gets in the sun. When she came to the pink granite stairs up to the park, she smiled. It was impossible to resist.

A woman sat on the stone wall, kicking her dainty booted feet. Her sleek cap of black hair gleamed in the murky summer air. She smiled back, sweet and free. "Mariposa!"

She jumped to the street, and Mari took her hand.

"Noir," Mari murmured in return. Her fingers closed on Noir's, and her shoulders flexed, eased, softened. "Let's dance."

Grinning, Noir pulled Mari up the steps to the gravel path. She quickened until they were nearly running, threading their way past baby carriages and families. They emerged from the tree-lined alley onto the greenspace. The vast lawn was dotted with sunbathers and children pretending they weren't caged in pollution.

Following Noir always made Mari giddy. Watching her hair fluttering, seeing the agile way she dodged, made her heart race. No. Her heart skipped. Hands locked tight, grips firm, she wasn't in Noir's wake so much as a part of her, the second pair of wings streaming in the wind.

Once Noir led her to an unoccupied, shaded edge of the lawn, she spun, breathless, to face Mari. Noir's black eyes were alive with happiness. Knowing it was because they were together, Mari laughed.

Noir curtseyed in her black sundress that barely covered her ass. "My Lady."

Mari held out her other hand and when Noir took it, she pulled, strong and playful. They stumbled into a circling romp, which changed into an outright, laughing whirl where neither could pull away without falling. Instead of letting go at the torque, Mari used all her strength to drag her Noir closer.

They steadied at the center of the spin. So easy, Noir's arm came around her waist, and Mari melted, her arm sliding along the cool white skin of Noir's shoulders. Their hands clasped, twined, seeking fingers threaded, then rose high in the air, like a shared pledge. Breathing hard, Mari laid her head alongside Noir's, and led her into a waltz. The feeling of Noir's slim body against hers softened everything inside her. Their thighs pressed on each step, their hips, their breasts, both unbound in light dresses.

Glittering in the park, a stolen hour of pleasure between jobs and school and the constant press of strangers. Noir's neck smelled of roses. Mari trembled against her lover, at the dance they shared every weekend, the sweet fluttering, flickering, shimmering joy they dared in the park. This was life, so fragile, passing before she could grasp the sensations, the pulse of blood hot in her thighs, fingertips, lips.

They stepped together, weaving their pattern. Noir hummed lightly, the vibration shimmering on the skin of Mari's throat, tingling her ear. As light as air, Noir's lips settled on her neck. Mari tilted her head, offering the line of her jaw. Noir took it, brushing her small soft mouth along the edge until she nibbled at Mari's earlobe. If the small kisses had tightened her breasts, the gentle, hot tug on her earlobe spiked them. Mari sighed, and pressed closer, her arm sliding from Noir's shoulders to her hips. They swayed in place, legs threaded as tightly as their hands.

Noir sucked harder on Mari's earlobe, her teeth sharp. Mari's lips drifted along Noir's shoulder, every caress slowing her, yet speeding her heart. Their hips rocked, and Noir shifted her torso so that their crushed breasts slid. Mari loosened her tight grip on Noir's hip. Now that Noir's back was to the trees, Mari dropped her hand even lower, toying close to the curve of Noir's firm, muscular cheek. Noir's tongue flicked up in a sweep over Mari's ear. When Mari's hand ducked beneath the skirt and took a handful of silky firm ass, Noir shoved her tongue deep in Mari's ear.

Mari stopped dancing because she had to. The dance had shifted inside. Noir was trembling, her breath skittering across Mari's ear as she thrust her tongue again and again. Mari closed her lips hard at the juncture of Noir's neck, and her fingers toyed down the soft crack of Noir's cheeks. When she could reach no further, she sighed, licked, and lifted both hand and mouth away.

"No," Noir moaned, lips pulling frantically at Mari's ear. Noir's grip on her hand had become painful, her arm a bar around Mari's waist. "I want to fly," she begged.

Mari pulled hard at her hand to make Noir let go. Now Noir had Mari's own, softer hips in each hand. Mari lifted her hands and cradled Noir's head, thumbs settling against her temples. Their eyes met, black to black, Noir's vacant and yearning. Mari could never say no to her. Tipping Noir's head to the side, she angled her own and settled her lips over Noir's. So pillowy, delicate. But Noir had gone farther faster and opened her jaw wide, desperately fluttering her tongue at Mari's teeth. Mari tightened her grip and thrust her tongue into Noir's warm mouth.

Noir growled. Her hands sank lower on Mari's ass. She pressed their mounds tight, grinding her own in a small circle that made Mari's fine hairs lift. Mari set the rhythm, thrusting her tongue despite Noir's hard suckling. She swallowed on Noir's taste, shuddering. Noir's hips surged hard, shaking, her fingers biting into Mari's ass. Mari thrust her tongue again and again, and then Noir arched, stiffening. Mari held her in the frozen moment, her tongue sweeping over Noir's gaping lips. When Noir breathed again, Mari smiled, and felt the pleasure burn through her own hips, making her heart pause.

The sweet orgasm shimmered through her belly, like pieces of her skin shaking loose and rising away. Wetness slicked her thighs and she regretted the lack of underwear that Noir had wanted. When she'd reformed, she kissed the center of Noir's lower lip and pulled back, her breasts sizzling and aching, her thighs blazing. Noir's eyes were sleepy, and she smiled. So of course Mari smiled back. Noir rubbed her nose against Mari's.

"We can't always fly, every time we meet," she scolded lightly.

"We can try," Noir laughed, petting Mari's spine. "I mean, black butterflies have to be free."