Magnolia didn't know her name. She had never asked. She always thought of her as the girl. She wasn't much more than a girl, really. Magnolia was on the wrong side of 45 and that clever little minx was at least two decades younger. It had been a long time since she had tumbled into bed with anyone and the girl's soft skin and bright eyes made Magnolia feel young again. With the lust in the young woman's eyes, Magnolia felt as if she were beautiful again.
But it was too much. There were one-night stands and then there was...
The girl sitting up right in bed, her shirt unbuttoned to reveal her breasts, her pants only hiked down enough to let her strapped on cock free. She summoned and Magnolia was helpless to resist. There was power in her voice, an authority that was kind but firm. Magnolia would have done anything she asked, but all the girl asked for was to Magnolia to ride her.
She did. She did desperately, eager to please, eager to chase pleasure from the vibrating cock she thrust into her. And with each release, she found herself more and more frantic for the girl's touch. Magnolia had never been one to grow sensitive after climax, a gift that served her well before her time at the Third Rail. But this was unrelenting, this was a path to near madness and the girl pushed her further and further along it. The stranger's face was proud and steady, but her eyes remained fixed on Magnolia's. Her mouth was the only thing that gave away her own arousal, her trembling lips, her quiet moan, her near silent begging for Magnolia to keep going. And her kisses...every one melted her, every one enveloped her in a longing for more.
Magnolia's legs started to give out and the girl rolled her beneath her. She kissed her so hungrily, so achingly, as if she was the one who had come so many times, as if she was the one that had so well screwed as to think she was in love. The girl refused Magnolia to return the favour in any form, jerking herself off with only a few strokes. Her own climax seemed almost perfunctory as if it was only duty and not out of any real need.
Magnolia fell asleep out of pure exhaustion and held the girl close to her, kissing her face, needing to show affection but fearfully of what she might say.
That was not a one-night stand. That had been no fumbling in the dark with a stranger. That had been an offering for something deep, an offer of intimacy that she could not even fathom.
And that was why she could never see her again.
When the girl returned to the Third Rail, Magnolia turned her down. She did two more times until the girl finally took the hint and left. She hadn't seen her since. Which was what Magnolia wanted, which was what she needed to survive.
Magnolia realized she had stopped singing. The audience looked at her, impatient and anxious. She cleared her throat and started again, faking a smile. When the set was over, she went to the bar and ordered a stiff drink.
Charlie poured her a finger of whisky. "That new song of yours seems to be a buzz kill. Wait until the morose drunks are out, it'll go over better."
She didn't answer. She just stayed at the bar, holding her glass as the world moved around her.