Amber removed the last of her stage makeup, stepped into a black tanktop, white button up shirt, which she tied around her waist, and shortshorts. She slipped on some cork wedge heels, grabbed her new purse, alarge leather bag with three gold buckles, checking the interior pocketto verify the P232 was there before slinging the strap over her shoulder.She exited the club and stepped out onto Washington Street.As on most weekend nights, there were still people milling about even atthis late hour. Amber scanned the street scene quickly. Across the twolanes of traffic, she saw Corazon and Moustache leaning against theirLotus. She waited for a break in the stream of cars, crossed mid streetover to where they stood. She smiled when they saw her and gave a smallwave."You came," Angel said."Yes. You didn't think I would?" No, I knew you would. Manuel had his doubts." Angel flipped his thumbindicating the big man."Oh, really?" Amber looked at the big Latino. "Why is that Manuel?" Es nada,. She imagined turning to face Kate, kissing her on the lips and letting her hands run down the other woman's body. Becky could no longer control her thoughts. Peter vanished entirely, his place taken by images of Lori and Kate. As both hands furiously rubbed her clitoris, a strange, but very pleasurable, sensation began to well up from within her. It grew in intensity, uncontrolled. As the contractions of her orgasm began, Becky imagined her legs intertwining with Kate's and the two of them grinding together to a simultaneous orgasm. As the waves of her orgasm crashed over her, Becky almost blacked out. She had to stop touching herself; she was suddenly too sensitive. She was sopping wet, and a puddle of liquid had formed on the couch. Becky lay panting. Gently, she brought her right hand back between her legs. The sensitivity was fading; she could touch herself again. She slowly stroked herself, amazed at the wetness. She did not masturbate often, and it had never been like this.
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