Excerpt: An excitement uncoiled from Kate’s belly, spreading through her veins like the intoxication of too much champagne. Her limbs felt heavy and yet energized. Her breathing increased. Hannah was feeling it as well, her shapely lips remained parted. They were both enjoying this too much.
First one leg and then the other. Hannah took her time, finding every knot, every muscle. Kate’s breasts seemed to swell within the corset, straining for release. As she breathed harder, her hard nipples rubbed the fabric. She fought the urge to take one out and touch the softness there.
Kate wanted to touch herself, to reach between her legs and stroke the silky dark curls. No, she wanted Hannah to touch her with those clever fingers of hers. Feeling the dampness pooling between her thighs, Kate shifted, letting her legs fall ever so slightly apart.
“My corset.” Her voice sounded thick, far away.
She moved to the edge of her chair, hands on knees to allow Hannah access to her back. Hannah stroked her neck, slipping Kate’s dark curtain of hair around to the front before opening the corset.
Able to take a full breath, Kate inhaled sweet air. The pounding in her blood only increased. She hunched her shoulders, shrugging out of the loosened corset.
Clad only in her chemisette, Kate left her hips on the edge of the chair but leaned back against the cushions of the dressing chair. She was glad to be wearing the French lace trimmed with contrasting ribbon. The midnight blue silk was luxurious and so complimentary against her pale skin. She wanted Hannah to look her fill, aware her nipples were clearly visibly over the tops of the fabric. She parted her legs further, and looking boldly at Hannah’s flushed face she held out a hand.
The little maid was breathing just as hard as her mistress. She took Kate’s hand and walked back around to kneel again at her feet. Kate stroked the girl’s glossy hair. She had never really touched another woman’s hair. It wasn’t greasy like the hair of a gentleman with its pomades and oils, but silky and clean as her own.
Emboldened now, Hannah stroked Kate’s legs, from calf to thigh and up past the lacy hem of her chemisette. Kate bit back a moan. She must be quiet, must not let anyone come looking for them and interrupt this unexpected pleasure. Thank goodness she had locked her door.
Hannah caressed the fragile skin at the juncture of Kate's thighs , carefully avoiding the dark curls. Everywhere Hannah’s hands touched a tingle of awareness remained, lingering on Kate’s belly and hips, until she began to squirm.
“Please,” Kate whispered. “Oh, please. Yes. Touch me.”
Song of Sappho 2: My Lady's Service, Oct. 14th from Musa Publishing