The afternoon slid in fast since Cybele made time spent seem inconsequential. As much as Ruby hated to admit, Cybele, with her enthusiasm of a brador on double espresso, made even mundane moment like waiting, pass unnoticed. Or was still cooped up with Jochen Rosenkranz in her office, but Ruby expected that to change soon.

  “I am telling you, meisje, it’s called poly-fractal reality. Our reality may contain several realities nested inside. You know, if we cut open Jochen’s head...”

  Ruby let the rest of the conversation trail for her own sanity. Perhaps, another twenty to thirty seconds and Cybele would find another topic to engage. Just when her thoughts wandered, Jochen emerged with a ckadaisical twitch in his smile, which she learned to ignore. One firm handshake with Or ter, he gave Ruby a calcuted nod and left.

  Or approached with her confident smile, perfectly swaying hips punctuated by sharply cut scks. Her presence can make any lobby seem insignificant. “Sweetie, are you famished?”

  “A bit...” Ruby dragged, hoping Cybele will eventually get the hint.

  Something about having Cybele in their private lunch disturbed Ruby.

  And worse, having her witness sharing the minestrone with Or felt like a viotion of something very intimate.

  Again, Or proved herself to be intuitive and diplomatic. “Cybele, I have taken the liberty of ordering pizza for you. The receptionist should have received it. You can either eat it downstairs or carry it home. Either is fine. I won’t hold it against you for what you do.”

  Cybele's face brightened, like there were L.E.Ds beneath her skin. “I hope it has extra anchovies.”

  “I can’t remember, but if with extra anchovies is how you prefer, let the receptionist know. She would pce a fresh order.”

  In response, Cybele only shook her head. “Every pizza is a good pizza.” She hugged Ruby, a very tight squeeze as though someone failed to deliver her the memo on hug etiquettes and disappeared into the elevator.

  Alone, Ruby toyed along the rim of the lunch box since the courage to directly meet eyes that were green enough to make emeralds pale in vividness failed her.

  “Minestrone, did you say?” Or fake sniffed and slowly smacked her lips. Her fingers touched Ruby’s, running over knuckles. The gesture made Ruby extremely aware of the ridges and contours of the back of her own hands.

  “Would you like lunch in my office? Or prefer the lobby or pantry?”

  “Office.” Ruby hated how demure her answer came out.

  As Or led her, one palm gently pressed against her back in what she could only interpret as part caring and part attentiveness, Ruby cursed her dearth of audaciousness. An effortless request, in fact, to ask Or to lift her into a bridal carry. Or did openly cim her as her daughter, hence such a request will not be overtly indulgent. Especially, given her natural elegance, she could sweep her off her feet, raise her till she perched comfortably against her strong hold. All satisfyingly possible for Mama Or, if only Ruby could find the voice to ask.

  Finally, inside her office, Or ushered her forward. An amalgam of vender and citrus, charming and soothing, just like Or herself, cimed Ruby’s olfactory senses.

  “Why don’t you sit behind my desk? It’s comfortable.”

  “But... That’s your chair.”

  Or came closer, folding the arms of her shirt to reveal toned muscles beneath. “It’s mine, hence my prerogative, isn’t it? So, I will give you my chair. Now make yourself comfortable while I return.”

  Ruby hesitantly sat on the chair and waited till Or returned with a single pte and spoon.

  “Sorry, I have only one pte and a spoon in my office.” Even her apology came with a smile that Ruby desired never to be unacquainted. “If you don’t mind, we can share?”

  Suddenly, lunch with Or became more licentious than Ruby envisioned. A single spoon passed between both their lips — Ruby squealed internally in delight. Sharing food, her minestrone, may come naturally between mother-daughter. But Or’s offer went beyond sharing.

  Or took a spoon, dipped it in soup, and brought it close. Her pink tongue darted, tasting her minestrone. Never ever, Ruby’s creation tasted better. The expression of approval on Or made Ruby an award-winning chef. As if on a whim, Or paused to dip her finger and scooped her creation, all done slow, torturously slow, while she slid closer to Ruby. Then she brought her finger near her mouth, lingering. Not breaking contact. Not blinking. She parted Ruby’s mouth, slipped her minestrone-dipped-finger inside.

  “You cook beautifully, sweetie.”

  Ruby’s world blurred because Or now coaxed and successfully held her lips parted. When she took it inside her mouth, everything ceased except their proximity.

  “Sweetie, your cooking has ruined me forever. I may never eat elsewhere. I may even become your captive.”

  Ruby wished her cheeks could stop betraying with their scarlet glow.

  When Or moved her finger, it brushed her upper lip, leaving a mark. “Oops, I stained you. Wait, allow me.”

  Ruby stilled as Or, with deliberate slowness, lurched closer.

  And Or kissed her.

  Her lips brushed gently, caressing and tasting. Time slowed, each tick stretched longer and longer. Every movement stalled. World ceased, its axis halted. Ruby had been kissed before by Mom. She knew how a kiss on the lips felt. The kiss from Mom, even when she imbibed Ruby with her power, was a forceful kiss. It overwhelmed and took a part of Ruby. Or’s kiss, on the contrary, was a very giving kiss. Mom’s kiss liberated her of inhibitions, made demanding emotions surge and the effect on Ruby was akin to being slingshotted to rise into higher and higher altitude while Or’s kiss cocooned her in a valley of serenity. She craved nothing except to remain in the moment.

  When Or pulled back, a golden line of saliva still stretched between their lips, a very rebellious and resilient bond. “I am sorry. I should have used a napkin, but your minestrone was too precious to waste.”

  Or returned to eating the minestrone with the spoon. After three mouthfuls — all carried out with poise and grace of someone invited to a consute dinner and feasted on dishes prepared by a professional chef — she brought her attention back to Ruby. “So you love to cook? Anything else you enjoy doing?”

  Any answer Ruby tried to summon fell ft. Concentration became an impossibility, and elusive too, while Or’s kiss still lingered. How did Or even manage to deliver a kiss so innocent and chaste, and yet scandalous?

  “Well... I mean... I love... love... I mean... I love engineering. Dad taught me all about machines. But cooking... I... I don’t know, I guess I enjoy cooking.”

  Or’s smile deepened, seemingly lost in the taste of minestrone. The way Or consumed her creation made Ruby wonder whether Or would allow her to cook her lunch every day.

  “By the way, Morgane wants me to bring you home.” Or broke the spell of fascination that bnketed Ruby.

  Whatever happened next, perhaps it was the sudden fading of the colour on her cheeks, or the withering of her exuberance, Ruby knew not, but it was potent enough for Or to lean closer. A heavy cloud of concern swirled around.

  “Sweetie, I know things are a bit rough with your mom, but how about I promise to stay the night at Morgane’s pce? If you still feel uncomfortable, you can leave with me to my penthouse. How does that sound?”

  Eyes, green and vibrant than a verdant forest, on a heroically beautiful face framed by hair purer than snow, implored Ruby. Ruby sought within the profound recess of her inner-self and found the will to deny Or’s request fully evaporated. So she waited for Or to escort her to Mom.

  Searing sunlight, baleful in intensity, hit Ruby on her face as she walked up to the door of Mom’s vil. When Or moved beside, sheltering her from the searing light, Ruby found the gesture soothing. Or’s proximity always worked better than any shade. Suddenly, she could actually face Mom and not shrivel under her gaze. Perhaps that was the nature of the Valkyrie in Or. Even as her mind flirted with the idea, her heart tossed it out. This feeling of protectiveness and nurturing warmth radiating from Or can not be attributed to her being a Valkyrie. Something in Or was fiercely fostering of her and only her. That notion only made a smile of contention to bloom.

  They didn’t have to announce their presence since Mom paced restlessly in the foyer. When Or pced a palm on Ruby’s shoulder, Mom, ever composed, gathered Ruby in her arms. For a moment, it felt as though Or pushed her into Mom’s embrace.

  “So, you two finally arrived. How was the lunch?” Mom nudged Ruby along the cheeks.

  The act should have embarrassed Ruby since, after all, she was being coddled like a little girl in front of... Mama Or. A new indulgent and craving thought sprouted. The cuddling from Mom felt insufficient, but if Or were to join... Ruby would welcome that. The strength in Or’s palms, her towering presence, the naked feel of her cheeks on hers, the scent that only belonged to Or, Ruby would accept all of that. Or’s snuggles will make any event doubly worthwhile.

  However, her thoughts became her undoing, since Mom suddenly was alert.

  “Why are your cheeks red, Ruby? Are you running a fever?” Mom pulled her face close to check.

  Then Or joined by snatching Ruby’s face from Mom and pressed their foreheads close. Not even a twitch passed in Ruby’s frame as Mom held her tight while Or cradled her face in her palms, her lips almost near her mouth. Everything ceased except her shallow breathing.

  “She’s fine. You could bme her red cheeks on her exposure outside.”

  When Or released her face, the sigh of disappointment that Ruby gave did not go unnoticed. Mom tugged with the suggestive glint in her eyes, the thing that made Ruby erect her mental defences.

  “So how was the lunch?” asked Mom again.

  “Lunch went wonderful, Morgane. I should ask her to cook minestrone every day.” In a surprising move that Or would never reveal to anyone except Mom, she stuck her tongue out. “Your daughter has impeccable cooking skills. Too bad you didn’t get to taste her it.”

  Mom gave Or one of her rare smile. “I pn to correct that now.” Mom kissed. Not one, two, or three but seven kisses, one nding on the crest of her head, two falling near her temples, three hovering along her jawline, and one wretchedly close to her lips. She then tilted her head to Or and stuck her tongue out in response.

  The exchange she witnessed catapulted her back in time where a younger Or and Mom existed, loving, pyful and innocent. She perceived the rapport between them, something so untarnished and untainted that made her fortunate to witness.

  “This, sweetie, may seem childish, but I must retaliate to resurrect my own honour. You may call us both immature. I don’t care.” Or pnted eight kisses, each lingering longer, daringly closer. The kiss came borderline ptonic but still managed to ruffle Ruby’s composure, and Mom’s too.

  “You can stop. I need my daughter’s lips intact.”

  “But her lips are smooth, soft and velvety. You know, she reminds me of the time when you first gave me your virgin kiss.”

  Ruby blushed in double the amount, both due to the mention of her lips having a velvet-like quality and the compared reference to Mom’s first kiss. Before she can hide her embarrassment, Mom released her.

  “Darling, why don’t you run upstairs to your room, throw on something comfy and breezy, then come down to the kitchen, okay?”

  Ruby sprinted, taking three steps per flight to rush inside her bedroom. A swift scan of her wardrobe, and she discarded most of her obvious choices. Mom insisted on something comfy and breezy — that ruled out jeans and tops, as well as long skirts and blouses. Eventually, she settled on a summer dress meant for those sun-kissed days. She ran her hands over the fabric, soft linen transformed into a kinetic swirl of red, dusted by white flowers. When she held it in front of the mirror, the cut to ftter design fell way above her thighs, and the straps, thin and dainty, defied gravity as they held the weight.

  She touched her bra and her movements stalled while her thoughts roamed. Would she need that? No, she decided. Not today. Her breasts will find the comfort of a cool fabric. She wiggled into the dress, the neckline plunged demurely for a public wear, but Ruby argued that such notions should be abolished between mothers and daughter.

  A quick brush pulled at the stray locks, smoothened her bangs, tamed two unruly curls and her reflection approved with a satisfying smile. When she sprinted downstairs, the hem of her skirt became a frothy confection of ruffles that swayed and swirled with every step while begging to caress her naked thighs. It was impossible not to be drawn to her exuberance and the glow that the dress accentuated.

  Or so thought Ruby.

  And stopped. Her steps faltered.

  Or leaned against the kitchen isnd, her shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the hollow of her throat and the perfect smoothness of her neck. If Mom carried poise, power and dominance, Or exemplified strength, vigour and perfection. When Or rolled her arms, Ruby gave an audible sigh.

  “What are you gawking at, sweetie?”

  Ruby shook her head. Even Or’s legs, hidden by sharp-cut grey sck, managed to convey her toned feature.

  “It’s hot, isn’t it?” Or even fanned with the colr of her shirt.

  Ruby nodded dumbly, “I... I think... I don’t know...”

  Oh, sweet Sappho. Please kill me.

  Ruby wished she could fall through the crevice between time, find refuge beneath the folds of space to further sink below, bury herself anywhere except standing before a positively sinful Or.

  Ruby shuddered. When her knees gave, Mom’s arm circled, preventing her frame from becoming one with the ground.

  Her thoughts whirled, making it impossible to focus, especially when her attention drifted towards Or lounging nguorously against the kitchen isnd. Her fingers toyed along folds of her sleeves. Her vest, crisp grey, melded with her frame. Or had abandoned her shoes and instead tapped the kitchen floor with her bare feet. For someone supposedly built strong and well-defined, Or’s delicate toes came unexpectedly adorable.

  Mom hooked a finger beneath Ruby’s chin, tilting it to bring their faces closer. "Darling, you seem distracted."

  “No... No, I don’t...” Words, devoid of substance, flowed. Her attention riveted towards Or’s toes. Her toes appeared normal, and Ruby felt banal for being drawn to them, until they stretched, exposing slender grace and pink softness concealed beneath. Or’s toes curled, presenting Ruby with dirty ideas. Like letting them roam over her own, starting slow from her toe, then moving upwards, pressing kisses against her ankles, calf, thigh. Then reach her...

  When Or shifted her attention in Ruby’s direction, she gave a very knowing smile, one that beckoned her from the front. Encouraged by Mom from the back, Ruby stumbled closer. She fell between Or’s charms and Mom’s cajoles.

  “Mom, why did you call me here?”

  “Darling, just a silly fantasy, really.” Mom chuckled while her palms roamed along her belly. “Since your mother is yet to taste your culinary creations, I was wondering if you could be convinced in a proper way? I have a feeling your hands work magic in more ways than one.”

  “Huh, sure Mom. I can cook something up.”

  That’s when Or took two steps and approached closer. Ruby found herself unable to move, trapped between Or and Mom.

  “That is very nice of you, darling.” Mom whispered honeyed words in her ears. “Except.. you will first taste what your mother has cooked.”

  “So I eat and then I whip up something for you?”

  “Whip up something? That is a very curious choice of words you use, darling.” Something about the way Mom uttered those words made them sound doubly scandalous.

  “You get to taste Morgane’s cooking alright, but with a twist.” Or chuckled, making Ruby acutely away of the way her muscles unduted beneath her vest. “Your Mom’s rules. Nothing complicated. We will feed you and you get to identify the ingredients.”

  Next second, Or’s palms were on her hips, their grip tight and the strength in them, undeniable. Ruby found herself effortlessly hoisted and pced on the kitchen isnd. Or pinned her arms from behind. The sensation of velvet fabric flowing over her wrist invaded her sense. They tightened, arresting her hands.

  “Can’t have you using your arms, can we? Where will the fun lie otherwise?” Mom hovered before her with a piece of bck silken scarf. “Darling, we will blindfold you too, since you are very perceptive.”

  Before Ruby could protest, Mom fastened it, blinding her. Suddenly, her other senses became hyper-aware. She could hear the steps of Or moving to stand before her. Her strong yet gentle touch on her knees parted her legs. Ruby almost gave audible squeals while her thoughts railed inside. She wondered whether Mom and Or colborated. To share. To touch. To tease. To...

  “I am raising the stakes.” Mom’s breathy whisper ghosted over the contours of her ears. “If you lose, then you will wear only a frilly apron of your mother’s choice inside the kitchen. Nothing else. Now, open wide, darling.”

  Ruby didn’t know where she could find courage because her brain screamed. No. Stop. Not happening. But when her lips parted, Mom fed her.

  Her taste buds exploded when strawberry dipped generously in chocote touched her tongue.

  “Any guesses, darling?”

  “Strawberry... in chocote.” Ruby stammered because feathery soft sensation started tracing intricate curves along her toes.

  Then came the next. A soft, silky texture coated her tongue. Her teeth bit, sinking into sweetness.

  “Sponge. Cream. Something fleshy... Kiwi cream dessert.” Now another softness caressed her other foot. She twitched and curled, seeking to probe the encroaching tenderness. Another toe.

  Someone was pying footsie with her. Not someone. Both. Mom and Or.

  Nothing prepared Ruby. Her already feeble will crumbled against the combined assault. One foot, she could resist, probably. But two? Not happening. Not when one toe traced her sole, making her tense, while the other pyed between her toes. Then one toe retreated, but the other grew bold, roaming exploratorily along her ankles.

  Her mind was a melting, gooey mess to bother whose foot audaciously continued the act. That impertinence could only belong to Mom. But then again, Mom always stayed a step ahead of her opponents and lovers. So probably Mom anticipated and hence that could only be Or.

  Mom leaned near her ear, her breath sizzlingly hot. “Darling, I believe you are distracted.”

  Ruby’s reply came garbled. Then her dress, slowly and torturously, rose above her thighs. Courtesy of Mom or Or. Cool air brushed her inner thighs, making her squirm. When she whimpered, her plea came out a needy whimper.

  “Sweetie, you need to verbalise your demands more clearly.” Or spoke, a soft and encouraging note.

  How could she? They already robbed her ability to speak. What they demanded bordered cruelty. Desperation crawled through her throat. Yet her pride refused her surrender.

  The teasing footsie game began again. One toe tortured the sole of her foot while another painted her ankles with the attention of a lover.

  “What would you like next, darling? Calves? or toes?” Mom, ever ruthless, asked questions meant to destroy.

  When Ruby opened to answer, another piece found itself lodged in her mouth. This time, she tasted cake, soft, sweet and creamy. When she chewed, nothing exploded, nothing sang, instead it melted inside her mouth, coating her tongue with sheer delightful nectar. If ambrosia, food of Olympian Gods, existed, it must taste simir.

  “Cake.”

  “You need to be precise, darling.” If her eyes weren’t blindfolded, Ruby could swear Mom carried a smug smile at the moment. “Try harder.”

  That wasn’t fair. Not when the hem rode above her inner thighs. How could Mom demand her full concentration while her exposed flesh bristled with gooseflesh? How could she expect her complete co-operation while toes explored her skin, travelling upwards, leaving behind aching trails?

  “Eggless bck currant cake.” Ruby almost panted through her reply, betting against hope that her answer may prompt one of the teasing toe to retreat, except her heart desired neither. What her heart desired may become her undoing, because her heart wished for both. They can make her moan. She would welcome it.

  “Good girl.” Mom patted her head. Or was it Or? Not that the details mattered. “As a reward, tell us where you want to be stroked?”

  This time, both their toes slithered up towards her calves, dangerously closer. When their toes danced, Ruby’s legs quivered, pleading with them both. Her Mom. Her Mama Or. Then they trailed down.

  Impatient as ever, Mom pressed against her, making her aware of the closeness. Mom’s proximity, her lips and fingers dangerously near, Ruby may never survive. Worse, Or’s breath was hot behind her ears. Was Or still wearing her vest? Were all her buttons unfastened?

  “Darling where? Your thigh? Knees? Toes?” One toe pulled back while another stopped caressing.

  Why stop? Please don’t. Why don’t they continue?

  Ruby couldn’t bear it any longer. Her will broke.

  “Calf...” Her admission, though den heavily, came between broken panting.

  “I am sorry, sweetie. I may have heard you incorrectly. You may need to repeat your request. I mean, it’s important we understand your desires, isn’t it?”

  “My calf... please...”

  “That may need further crification. Which calf, darling, specifically?”

  “My calf... my calves. Both, please. Touch them, tease them. Please.”

  One foot caressed her inner calf, while another massaged her outer calf.

  Mom’s chuckle sounded positively evil. “See. Wasn’t asking worth it?”

  “We can’t her tease forever. Can we, Morgane? Poor girl is already flustered.”

  Yet neither of the stroking seemed to slow down. Their pacing continued unhindered, their movement maddeningly enticing. Neither rexed nor hurried. Their steady rhythm remained unchanged.

  “Where to next, darling?”

  Ruby didn’t know, except her breasts grew heavy, her nipples hardened and her belly tightened. Even their footsie, while wonderful, couldn’t offer relief. As much pleasure as her toes, ankles and calves received, they can never sate the ever building pressure brewing inside. Perhaps her mouth, she wondered, since it craved kisses. Kisses which Mom would generously offer, and Or may not deny.

  Ruby jerked her hands in a feeble attempt to free. But her arms, arrested within Or’s velvet confines, remained caged. Never reaching her lips. Never reaching her cheeks. Her wrists writhed, protesting. Her brain screamed.

  Her desperation never transted into words.

  “Which part, sweetie? Your knees? The curve where your knee ends? The side where it turns smooth?”

  One caress resumed stroking her calves while the other paused. Ruby sensed one toe moving, sliding upwards, higher. Her legs, sensitive than ever, quivered beneath the touch. Now, both paused.

  “Darling, consent is very important. If you remain silent, we can stop.”

  If their touches ceased, Ruby will shatter. If they pulled, her sanity might dip. “No. Please... My thighs... inner thighs.”

  When one foot dug and pressed hard against her inner thighs, her legs opened wider by their own accord. Then another foot, strong, gentle and caring, stroked her knee. The one lingering on her inner thigh stopped, leaving her throbbing and longing. She squirmed against the sudden loss of mounting sensation.

  “Who stopped?” Too te for Ruby to hate her urgent tone. “This isn’t fair. You got me... You got me all...” She strugglingly swallowed the rest.

  “Tell us, sweetie, who do you think stopped? Your mom or me?” The soft and patient whisper of Or made Ruby want to crawl inside her voice and lose herself in that tenderness. “If you guess correctly, maybe we will resume.”

  How could Ruby know? Maybe it’s Mom, since she knows her weakness. She had a knack for it. On the contrary, Mom would not pull back, because her ego would never permit. So probably, Or may have stopped. Then the one foot on her knee lowered down to meet and greet her toes. In return, her own toes unfurled like an early morning blossom, and in the newly parted intervening space, the other toes explored with gentle curiosity.

  Those damned toes should be illegal. They looted her off all her other sensations. As if answering her plea, the invading toes suddenly stopped, but their contact remained. They gradually spread, a silent invitation for Ruby to engage. So, despite her insecurity, she stretched her toes and touched them. Soft. Fleshy. Smooth. Perfect. The thrum of her heartbeat pounded warm blood, filling her veins with molten magma. Her toes greeted eagerly, like an old friend waiting. When she stroked, the other toes curled, beckoning her further. Ruby accepted. Two met. Then two more joined. Then three. Soon all her five toes touched and twisted between. Each toe had gained its own lover.

  “So, is it your mother? or Or?”

  “How could I possibly know, Mommmm?”

  The second set of toes slipped, sliding beneath her, making Ruby bite her lower lip. Her thighs clenched, forcing her legs shut. Except, her knees caught Or’s grip. They were strong and coaxing.

  “Please. I don’t know.”

  “Should be stop, sweetie?”

  “No.” That part of her came loud and immediate and was the truth hurled from her soul.

  Or’s grip, powerful and caring, kept her knees parted.

  How did Or’s grip become iron-like? And why did she find it acceptable?

  And those damned toes will ravish her, make her beg.

  Mom hovered near; her breath scalded Ruby’s cheeks. “Darling, remember counting.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your mother has two feet. So does Or.” Without a preamble, a third set of toes now traced along her outer thighs to pyfully flip the already hiked up hem of her skirt.

  Denied of the use of her arms, Ruby jerked violently. Her sense were set abze. Her lower lip struggled between the ever tightening grip of her teeth. Soon, if this continues, she would draw blood.

  “By the way, you look incredibly cute when biting those lips.” Or commented while no trace of the strength with which she held her knees resided in that voice. They were so soothingly flowing, like melted caramel. “Keep doing it. I now see why Morgane likes to hog you all for herself.”

  “You may steal her kiss, Or. Just one. But no kissing unless she permits. After all, my daughter deserves to have her choices respected. So what do you say to Or kissing you, darling? Or would you prefer your Mother’s special touch?”

  Those offers untied every desperately clenched rationale in her psyche. They became released helium-filled balloons in the air. Every neuron was short-circuited.

  Very indulgent giggles from Mom and Or fell. “Who do you want to kiss you? Me or your Mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes. Whom, darling?”

  Or chuckled, and her mirth was achingly candid. “Yes to who, sweetie? Be specific.”

  Coherence, neither in thoughts nor words, was what Ruby possessed. Only mewls and whimpers became her companions. Mom and Or robbed her, leaving only a very craving husk behind.

  “I must also remind you, sweetie, we can’t touch unless you are explicit. What will it be? Yes, Mom first. Or yes, Or first?”

  Then palms took her face. Ruby thought she knew Mom’s touch, as well as Or’s. Her confidence was proved wrong. Mom’s palms were soft, but her grip was demanding while Or’s power resided in her hands, but her hold was always consoling. Now, Ruby knew not whose palms cradled her face. When she nuzzled, trying to seek familiarity, a heady aroma of lemongrass, vender, rosewood, acacia, all mingled, overloading her olfactory functions.

  Those hands that held her face massaged, coaxing Ruby to rex her jaw. Twin thumbs then brushed along the contours of her lips. First, they tugged her lower lip, asking her politely. Next, those thumbs traced her upper lip, promising what might come.

  Ruby parted, conveying her readiness. Something touched her. Wet and smooth and full and plump and plundering lips. Lips which tasted hers were so bold like Mom’s and accommodating like Or’s.

  Yet also, the kiss was unlike Mom’s kisses, since Mom kissed always knowing exactly what she desired. This kiss didn’t. Instead it sought permission.

  And unlike Or whose kiss only lingered in the shared moment, this kiss exceedingly coaxed, a teasing of the delight dangled before her if she would permit.

  Damn it. Is it Mom or Or? Ruby could no longer rely on her memory of either since she had witnessed their other pyful side in the foyer.

  Was the kiss, a result of the shackled and submerged inner-self of Mom or Or?

  She desperately wanted it not to be Mom, because that would be weird. But Mom might be an awesome kisser, and she knew to put her lips to work in inventive ways. Ruby also wanted it to be Or, because deep inside her heart, the embers of desires for Or did not fade.

  When she opened her mouth further to scream her frustration, a very robbing tongue took that as an invitation. It penetrated her mouth and sought her tongue, a solicitation to join a mutual dance of passion. Ruby found herself responding, her tongue finding its equal, its partner, its lover. Their tongues danced, each leading while the other followed. Both became exploratory, each attempting to learn the other intimately. Eventually when the kiss broke, Ruby could only protest with a loud mewl. Words were an unnecessary burden. Why bother? Not after what they shared.

  Ruby’s brain, already a mush, took a long time, perhaps a damned eternity, to recover. Those kisses may have caused her permanent addiction. Ruby slowly gained awareness amidst Or’s chuckle and Mom’s giggle. Her arms were freed from their silken confine. The blindfold fell next. For a brief moment, everything seemed blurred while her eyes sight adjusted to the vision. Finally, the images of Mom and Or gained sharpness.

  Ruby focused on their lips, trying to infer any sign of a fresh kiss. Surely, a kiss of that intensity would have left its mark. But none. Both sported their usual luscious lips. Not even a swelling or a ruptured blood vessel.

  “Who kissed me?”

  “Who kissed you, darling?” Mom tossed her question back.

  “You vioted my trust.” Ruby stammered, more to hide her real emotions than from raw anger. “I did not give my consent.”

  As a response, Mom chortled while Or rolled her eyes, an expression that Ruby knew not Or was capable of.

  “Who kissed me? I need answers.” Ruby injected a bit of rage into her tone.

  “Sweetie, you know how Morgane can be. Always pushing boundaries. It was your Mom.”

  “Darling, your mother can never disrespect your wishes. It was Or.”

  “You are both unbelievable. You tease me. And you kiss me. But when it’s time for accountability, you both py bme game.”

  That earned her two sets of seemingly suppressed ughs.

  “But seriously, I need to know who kissed me?... and asked them to do it again.” For obvious reasons, she did not state the second part.

  AnnouncementIf you enjoyed this chapter, please do a callout and thanks to Dragoneer who requested this chapter.

  ElenaV