Different Circles

She thought of Suzie now, as her fingers began to idly play with her inner thighs, her outer lips. Suzie with her wonderful feminine kisses, her large nipples, her skill with her lips and tongue. She juiced up a little, began to feel the familiar tingling of sexual arousal, but could not seem to get fully into the fantasy. With a sigh, she started thinking about that one night in Portland with Jake—a memory she did not take out often—and that juiced her up a little more but, for the first time ever with that particular memory, she still could not quite get into things, could not bring her arousal up enough to make a reasonable push toward her destination.

What is the matter with me? she thought, frustrated, but it was a rhetorical thought. She knew what the problem was. It had happened before. She had reached the point where paddling the pink canoe was just not going to cut it any longer. She needed the real thing in some way, shape, or form. But there was no prospect in sight, neither male nor female. She knew she would have no trouble getting herself laid if she really wanted to—by either sex—but she needed to have an emotional connection of some sort or she simply would not enjoy it. Sometimes she thought it must be easier being a man. Men did not care who they had sex with. They could bang someone whose name they did not even know without a second thought.

And so, feeling horny and frustrated, her fingers still touching her soft lower lips, she fell asleep, unfulfilled. She slept for four hours straight, hardly moving at all, soft little feminine snores occasionally coming out of her mouth. She likely would have slept for another two or three hours if the phone had not started ringing, dragging her out of her slumber.

She groped for the handset and finally managed to pick it up and put it to her ear.

“Marie Vasquez’s room,” she grunted into it.

“Hey, C,” Laura’s voice said. “It’s me.”

Celia blinked a few times and slowly sat up. “Hey, Teach,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I was calling to see if you were going to go down to dinner tonight.”

She yawned. “What time is it?”

“About eight-thirty,” Laura told her. “I just woke up from a pretty good nap a few minutes ago.”

“Ugg,” Celia grunted, seeing that she was still naked and probably smelled a little like a wet vagina. “I think I’m going to do the room service thing tonight. I do not feel like showering and doing my hair just to go down and eat.”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking as well,” Laura said. “Just thought I’d check in with you first.”

“I appreciate it,” Celia said. “If you want to, come over to my room and we can eat together. Maybe have a few drinks.”

“Hmm,” Laura said thoughtfully. “The sounds like a good idea. You need to give me a few minutes to get dressed. I’m currently just wearing my old sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

“You don’t have to dress up on my account,” Celia told her. “I’m only across the hall. And I’ll be wearing my jammies as well.”

“A pajama party huh?” Laura said. “Sounds like fun. I’ll be right over.”

“Okay. See you then.”

She hung up the phone and then went to her travel bag, which she had yet to unpack. She rummaged around in it and found a pair of baggy gray cotton shorts and a long t-shirt with a faded picture of Winne the Poo on it. She pulled the shorts over her legs, not bothering with underwear, and the t-shirt over her head, not bothering with a bra. She washed her hands with soap and water in the bathroom sink. As she was drying them on the hotel towel, she heard knocking on the door.

She put her eye to the peephole and verified it was Laura out there. She then opened the door and let her in. The sax player was a little bleary-eyed as well. Her hair was down and uncombed. She was dressed in a ratty green t-shirt with a picture of a kiwi bird on it and a faded pair of black sweatpants. Her socks were plain white. The way her small breasts jiggled as she entered told Celia that she had not bothered donning a bra either. She took a moment to admire the sight surreptitiously. Ever since she started having sex with Suzie, she found herself appreciating the female body and its attributes on more than a strictly aesthetic level.

“What are you drinking?” Celia asked her as they walked into the suite’s sitting room, where the bar was.

“I don’t know,” Laura said. “What are you going to have?”

“I’m thinking a vodka and tonic,” she said. “They have some of that new stuff that Jake introduced me to: Grey Goose.”

“Oh yeah,” Laura said with a nod. “That stuff is pretty smooth. I’m surprised they have it here in Spain. I thought it was just in the states.”

“This hotel is known for catering to Americans,” Celia said, walking over to the bar.

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. I’ll take one of those as well.”

“Two Grey Geese and tonics coming up,” Celia said, pulling down two water tumblers.