Dessert in the Desert
Story Codes: FF, Exhibitionist


Dessert in the Desert
by Sandra Bell


The sun was starting to set over the desert mountains when Kerry pulled up at
the ranch. She stepped out of the air-conditioned car and into the remaining
heat of the day. All around her the mountains were turning pink and purple
and she stood there taking in the sight and sound and smell of the desert. A
young man extending his hand interrupted her reverie.

“Hi, I’m Jake. Chris is still working but she’ll join us later. Did you have a good
flight and drive?”

“Yes, both. It’s lovely here.”

“Yes, it is. I love the desert and this is a special place in the desert. Shall we
get your gear?”

Kerry opened the trunk and began hauling out cases filled with camera
equipment. She was to photograph the sculptures by Chris Arons, the
assignment of a lifetime.

Suddenly she became aware of another presence behind her and turned
around to gaze at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The close
cropped hair served only to accent the gray-green eyes and high cheekbones.

Chris held out her hand, “Chris Arons.” The hand was dry and callused and
the grip was strong. Chris picked up three of the cases and they all walked
toward the house.

“It isn’t much,” Chris said and it wasn’t. For a woman of considerable wealth,
Chris lived down, way down. The house was a simple old ranch house, worn
and cluttered with the strange humanoid sculptures that Chris was so famous
for. Jake showed Kerry to her bedroom, a small room that held a twin bed and
a chest of drawers. “She’s put a lot of money into her studio,” Jake seemed
apologetic. “And then there’s the horses and my cabin.”

Chris held out a cold bottle, “Beer?” “Thanks.”

They settled on the old couch with a Navajo blanket tossed over it. Kerry
suddenly felt very tongue tied in the presence of this beautiful, talented
woman. She coughed, “This is very nice, very warm and comfortable.”

“Yeah.”

“It must be better to work out here, away from all the distractions of the city.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Kerry gazed at the artist’s long, Levi clad legs that ended in a pair of worn
cowboy boots.

Suddenly Chris’s hand was on Kerry’s cheek. She took Kerry’s chin between
her fingers and turned her face from side to side. Chris dropped her hand,
“Good bones. I like good bones.”

Kerry flushed. It was a compliment but a strange one. And her body had
responded way out of proportion to the touch on her face. She couldn’t
understand the reaction; Chris wasn’t exactly a scintillating personality.

The week fell into a rhythm as Kerry carefully photographed the sculptures
and Chris worked in her studio. On some days Kerry didn’t even get a glimpse
of Chris and she felt a sharp disappointment. Other days Chris might spend
up to two hours talking, or what passed for talking. Most of the time was spent
in silence and Kerry had gotten used to the silence. Sometimes Chris would
run her hand down Kerry’s arm or leg and mutter something about
proportions. Each time she did this Kerry would have the same out of
proportion flame of desire.

At the end of the week Chris announced that she needed to go into town and
she asked Kerry if she would like to come along for dinner. Kerry jumped at
the chance of spending several hours with the enigmatic artist.

They drove into town, not much more than a restaurant, a gas station and a
couple stores. Chris pulled the Subaru in back of the restaurant and they went
in. Kerry was assailed by the smell of charred beef and by the sound of
country western music. Most of the men wore cowboy hats and there were
several couples dancing to the music. Chris had worn a hat but she left it in
the car. She wore a black cowboy shirt and black jeans with boots that were
buffed and shined.

Kerry hadn’t eaten meat for years but she was afraid Chris would be insulted if
she just ordered a salad. She ordered a steak and hoped she wouldn’t throw
up. When it came, she dug into it with relish, horrified at her carnivore instincts.

“Good, huh?” Chris smiled. It was the first word that either had spoken for
several minutes. “Very. I haven’t had a steak this good for years.” Chris’s smile
was doing something to Kerry’s hormones.

Finally they were sated and both leaned back and smiled at each other. But
neither was relaxed. Something was between them; a thrumming that was
growing by the minute.

“You want to dance?” Chris asked.

Yes, yes, yes. “Are you crazy, we’d be killed in here.”

“There’s a loading dock out back. We can still hear the music.”

“Well, yes.”

Chris jumped to her feet and pulled a wad of bills from her pocket and tossed
them on the table. She put a hand on Kerry’s back and almost shoved her out
of the restaurant’s back door.

They were on the loading dock but could hear the music clearly. The jukebox
was playing a very old song, “Behind Closed Doors.” Chris put both arms
around Kerry’s waist and pulled her close. Kerry’s hands rested against the
artist’s shoulders. Chris leaned in and nuzzled Kerry's neck. The photographer
put her hands behind Chris’s head and drew her in closer. She felt Chris cup
her buttocks and pull her against the rough Levi. Both women were breathing
hard and a small moan escaped from Kerry’s mouth. The music changed to
something fast but the women continued their slow dance.
Chris pulled her head back and kissed Kerry softly on the mouth. Suddenly
Chris pushed the photographer against the wall, kissing her hard and grinding
into her. “I want. I want. I want you baby. Oh God.” The words further fanned
Kerry’s desire but also made her realize where they were. “Not here,” she
managed to gasp.

The women almost ran to the car. Chris stopped at the car door and kissed
Kerry hard and then pushed her back over the hood. “Stop. Stop. Not here.”
“Sorry. Oh God, I’ve never wanted anything so bad. You make me so hot,
baby.”

The car screeched out of the parking lot and blew the town’s only red light.
Chris reached over and began stroking Kerry’s thigh while driving wildly with
one hand. Suddenly she made a hard left and drove off the highway and onto
a little dirt road. They bumped and jarred a short distance on the road until
Chris slammed on the brakes. She ran around to the passenger side and
pulled Kerry from the car and guided her into the back seat.

The weight of the other woman on top of her was paradise for Kerry. They
kissed almost frantically, tongues twining and exploring. Kerry felt Chris
fumbling at the hooks on her bra. “Shit. We don’t have enough room.” Chris
lifted Kerry up and out of the car and onto the ground. It was soft with several
inches of dirt that felt like powder. Chris pulled off her boots and then lifted
Kerry’s dress off her. They lay down and Kerry pulled at the snaps of Chris’s
shirt. Chris wore no bra and Kerry cupped a small breast with her hand. Soon
Kerry’s bra and panties were off her. She writhed against Chris's thigh as the
other woman sucked hard on her breast. She thought she would go mad with
desire. She reached down and put her hands into Chris’s jeans. “Off, take
them off.” She and Chris managed to get the jeans off and Chris wasn’t
wearing any panties either. The women’s hands were all over each other’s
body, exploring like they had never known another body. Chris ran her hand
up Kerry’s thigh and paused at her entrance, “Your pussy is so wet, baby,”
she whispered. Kerry felt the artist’s fingers inside of her, curling against her.
Chris straddled her thigh and pumped against it. Kerry couldn’t stand it and at
the same time she never wanted it to end. Suddenly she came in great,
shuddering tremors and then Chris stiffened and stopped against her leg and
she knew that Chris, too, had come. They lay gasping in the moonlight, wild as
the desert. But Chris wasn’t through. She ran her tongue around Kerry’s
breast and then went lower. The licking and nibbling between Kerry’s legs
brought her right back to that crazy desire. She felt a tongue go into her core
and then lick upwards.

Her most delicate nub was between Chris’s teeth. She arched into Chris’s face
but the other woman held her back down.  Chris nuzzled against her and then
Kerry felt herself teetering on the edge of a cliff of desire. Again and again
Chris brought her to the brink and then withdrew. Finally, she pushed her
tongue hard against Kerry and the photographer screamed out into the silent
desert.

They lay together, the moonlight bright on their bodies. Suddenly Kerry
laughed softly. Chris had a ring of dirt all around her mouth, making her look
like a beautiful clown.


© 2008 Sandra Bell

Sandra writes in Pasadena where she lives with her partner and a small white
Jewish dog. When not writing she likes to watch crime shows on TV. She is in
love with Olivia Benson of Law and Order: SVU.