Bette and Tina’s Dallas Hotel Room – Bette
It’s an unusual feeling: Being belly stabbed.
A crowd of people had gathered after Tina’s sister, Janet, had shoved Alice’s steak knife into me. And a dozen had stayed, after the glass of whiskey Tina had given me was nearly gone and Miss Laredo had sterilized a needle from the bar’s First Aid kit and had begun to stitch me up.
While Tina rubs against me, hidden underneath my bandage, an ancient feeling of pain between us begins to bleed.
A strange thought begins to circle and won’t go away. Had that knife always been headed straight for me?
Tina breaks our kiss, and reaches for the phone. “I’m ordering room service, Babe. Do you want anything?”
“We have a mini bar,” I offer offhandedly, while taking a quick peek down at my bandage that’s become a Rorschach test pattern.
“But will I find a banana split in there?”
“Finding one would be unusual.” Then, I wake up to what’s going on next to me. “Wait! Tina, are you pregnant?”
Deep into negotiations about cherries, she shoots me a disbelieving look. “Do we want extra whipped cream?” She raises one eyebrow at me. “The man on the other end of the phone wants to know.”
“Yes, please. Room 1250, that’s right. Thank you.”
Hotel Room – Tina
Sorting out aggression is sometimes harder for me than I would like. I was raised by people who were masterful at hiding it, especially on my father’s campaign trail, or after a blistering account of politicians, him included, had appeared in the statewide paper. We had smiled and sailed on, with the certain knowledge that something else would be tomorrow’s headlines.
Bette slips out of bed and goes for the mini bar. “What does one drink with a banana split at nearly midnight?” She calls over her shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, as she rifles through the liquor inside.
Splashing two tiny bottles of cognac into her glass, she takes a long swallow. “This will help.”
“Let’s hope so, but your blood pattern, Bette, have you noticed it?”
Bette threads her fingers tightly through mine, and plays with my engagement ring, “Do you have any idea, how badly I want to marry you?”
Then, her iPhone rings, and simultaneously Room Services knocks on our door.
“Damn, interruptions!” She snatches up her cell, before dashing into the bathroom to hide. “Alice, you better not be telling anyone about this.” Then, over the clattering of spoons and dishes, her muffled voice through the lavatory door, “Mother?”
“Coast is clear,” I call out to her after the room service waiter leaves, and I spoon chocolate ice cream her way.
She stretches out her long naked body at the foot of our bed. “Oh, so Tina texted you?” Bette frowns at me. “And sent you a picture?”
She holds her hand over the phone. “What is it with you and everybody else about sharing pictures of me everywhere!” She glares at me. “When do you all have the time?”
Back to her mother — “In the picture? That was Miss Laredo. Lucky, right?” Bette frowns again. “I meant, Mother that she was a nurse.”
As she takes the phone away from her ear, I can hear Mary still talking. “Mother wants to talk to you.”
I take the phone. “Right. Dallas. Did you get our thank you note about how much we enjoyed our weekend?”
Bette commandeers my banana split and begins to make it her own. But, trapped now, I continue listening to her mother. “It all happened really fast, Mary, none of us saw the knife coming. No, she’ll be all right, it’s not that deep.”
“You shouldn’t have texted her,” Bette whispers to me. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Pain? I’d think quite a bit.” I lean over, and Bette puts a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. “Yes, if she’s there, I would like to talk to Mary Windhorse.”
“You feel better now?” The old Indian woman asks me. “Spilling blood, while not recommended for city people, is usually the end of it.”
“It was Bette’s, not mine, I guess you’ve heard.”
“Heard all about it from her mother. Doesn’t matter.” Windhorse pauses for a moment, then continues, “If you don’t believe me, look around you for a sign, but I’d say it’s done now, and it’s over.”
Bette’s mother chimes in. The feistiness of her voice – undeniable. “And you should thank, my daughter for that! Put her back on the phone with me, will you, Tina?”
“Bette, give me my damn banana split back right now, and finish talking to your mother.” I exchange the dessert bowl for the phone.
Lying back across the foot of the bed, her blood stained bandage upside down now, it very much resembles a face.
I stare into it as she listens intently to her mother. “Yes, I promise. Sure. Yes, if you need me to, I can fly into New Orleans and meet you.”
Ending the call, she tosses her phone aside. “Looks, like I have to leave tomorrow. Mother has a favor she needs me to do down there.”
“Which I can’t deal with yet!” She collapses back on the bed. “This has been the longest fucking day of my life!”
“What’s it about?”
“The trip? No idea. Something about a swamp, an old lady with a broken arm, and a place called, Barataria Bay, near Lafitte.”
“Lafitte was a famous pirate.”
“And, as usual, you know much more than I do.” She leans in for a kiss, her voice becoming much softer. “Now, what did you have mind for all this leftover whipped cream?” She dips her fingers into the bowl. “I had some thoughts about it, T. Lie very still. I want to do this perfectly.”
Just breath between us now. And her, as she coats my nipples with cream, before back between my legs, and a long inhale of me.
A revving race car driver look, that burns down my whole body. ”Baby,” she whispers, ”you did this to yourself.” Her tongue makes a clean stripe through the foam, and slides melting cream all around my clitoris.
“That feels…” I drift – completely captured.
“God! I don’t know how you do that.” Then, truly – I can’t make any more words, only sounds she can decipher.
Hotel Room – Bette
I’d like to do this on my honeymoon. Licking Tina for hours dislocates my brain, and my tongue takes over. There’s a sparking at the tip of it – so, now I slide over there.
My captive begins to beg me. “Babe, fuck me. Fuck me now, and don’t stop.”
“Not yet.” I play for awhile longer, licking cream in and out of her, when her hands grab into my hair at the back of my neck.
“You want something?” I lie down on top of her. “I’m not going to let you go just yet. Not even if you beg me.”
“What happened to you scared me.”
I push slowly back inside her.
“There. Right there.” Tina rocks with me, “You always know exactly where.”
If you enjoyed this story, please give me a little tip here at paypal.me/blackbirdwrites. For $3.00 you’ll be buying me a cup of coffee, $7 is a cold drink I’ll enjoy and $10 and up is dinner. A comment back from you I’d love, too.
Next story finds Bette in New Orleans on an adventure with her Mother.
Stay tuned, and drop a comment if you’d like.