(see header in part one)

Harassment, by Scott J. Welles

Part Three...

Venturing naked into Elizabeth's bedroom, Maggie felt like she was treading upon increasingly sacred ground. No lights were on in the room, only the faint illumination from the curtained window and the light from the hallway.

Elizabeth lay on top of the bed, framed in the hallway light. The loose curls of her hair cascaded about her shoulders. Maggie ran her eyes over the woman's nude form, noting with pleasure that she appeared fit without being artificial. There was none of the narcissistic body sculpting or cosmetic enhancements many of Maggie's dates seemed to favor. Elizabeth was clearly a woman comfortable with her own body, as it was, and that just made her all the lovelier in Maggie's eyes.

"Are you coming in?" she murmured softly.

Maggie realized she'd been hesitating in the doorway. She couldn't remember being this nervous since her first sexual experience. She forced herself away from the doorway, joining Elizabeth on the quilted comforter. They lay side by side, facing each other.

Elizabeth reached for her guest.

"Umm..."

She withdrew her hand. "What's the matter?"

Maggie wished she could get the words of that little voice out of her head. She knew it was right, and that she should tell this wonderful creature the truth, but if she did...

"Maggie, darling, if you don't want to..."

"It's not that. Really."

"Then what?"

She thought of something. "You didn't sleep with them, did you?"

"Who?"

"Carol and Anna? When Peter found you?"

"No, I didn't."

Maggie feigned relief. "That's good to hear."

"Why?"

She smiled. " 'Cause they'd be a hell of an act for me to follow."

Elizabeth laughed at that, and Maggie joined her. They giggled like schoolgirls, letting all the nervous energy out. And when they calmed, Maggie had made her choice.

She pulled the surgeon closer and kissed her, gently at first, then with greater insistence. Elizabeth welcomed her with lips, arms, and legs, drawing her in further. Maggie rolled her onto her back and slipped her leg between Elizabeth's, her thigh finding the wetness between her hostess's legs. So she wants this as much as I do, Maggie thought.

She kissed gently up along Elizabeth's cheeks, ears, eyelids, and forehead, as though memorizing the other woman's face by touch. Elizabeth sighed, her nimble fingers dancing over Maggie's flesh. She caressed Maggie's breasts, lifting one to her lips, suckling gently at it.

"No, wait," Maggie said, pulling away with difficulty. "You first."

Elizabeth lay back as Maggie's hands and mouth began a careful exploration down the length of her body. I may be taking advantage of her, Maggie thought, but I'm at least going to make damn sure she enjoys it.

She paused in her pilgrimage to pay homage to Elizabeth's breasts. They weren't perfect, like the silicone-enhanced globes of a fashion model, but they were real and natural, and Maggie much preferred them this way. She alternated between them, licking, nibbling, sucking, every action increasing Elizabeth's excitement. She moaned aloud, her fingers twining through Maggie's hair. "Yes, darling," she gasped. "Please, more..."

When she felt Elizabeth could stand it no longer, Maggie descended, marking a trail of butterfly kisses along her stomach, dipping her tongue briefly into Elizabeth's navel, then verrrry slowly ran the tip of her tongue down over her pubic bone. She paused, tantalizingly, at the apex of her journey before entering her destination.

Elizabeth gasped sharply, her hips rising off the bed to meet Maggie's mouth. "Oh, God..." She was ready to come, Maggie knew. But Maggie was determined to take her time.

Performing oral sex on another woman, in Maggie's opinion, was the issue that separated the true lesbian from the woman who was merely bi-curious. For the latter, experimentation with other women was a means to an end; hearing that women knew best how to please each other that way, she looked for a woman who would give her new and more exotic orgasms. Returning the gesture was the price to be paid. For a lesbian, however, a woman who truly loved and admired the female form in its own right, the act of orally pleasing another woman was a pleasure all its own; it was truly better to give than to receive. Well, okay, maybe not better, but very nearly as good.

Maggie applied her talents as a painter applied a brush. No, she thought, more like a sculptor with a chisel, removing the excess from a block of stone or marble, until the shape of truth and beauty that lay within is revealed at last. An apt metaphor, she decided, since every woman's orgasm was a work of art. The creative act of bringing one into existence was a reward in itself.

Of course, even the greatest of artists is only as good as her subject. One couldn't create something from nothing, only look at the block of marble and try to see what is already there. In Elizabeth Corday, however, Maggie - who considered herself quite the artist - knew immediately that she had the makings of a masterpiece.

Taking great pleasure in the way Elizabeth's limbs vibrated with uncontrolled rapture, Maggie was stunned at how completely the Englishwoman abandoned her poise and control, surrendering herself entirely to her lover's ministrations. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands, first stroking and teasing her own nipples, then running her fingers through her own tangled hair, then through Maggie's, then clutching handfuls of the comforter. She rolled her head from side to side, her hair flying, and her hips bucked fiercely; Maggie had to hold onto her thighs to maintain contact. She was so close...

"Dear God, Maggie..." Elizabeth breathed, hoarsely, "Ohh, yes, there...pleeease, now...I'm..."

Her words dissolved into more primitive vocalizations as her climax loomed before them. Recognizing its imminence, Maggie gave it her best effort, diving in with everything she had. The indescribable taste of the Englishwoman enthralled her as she strove for the final triumph...

Elizabeth convulsed beneath her, her spine stiffening and her eyes rolling back into her head. She let out a scream that must have covered the musical scales at least twice on its way down. Then she seemed to melt, releasing all the coiled tension in her body, and collapsed on the bed, devoid of strength.

Maggie let her rest for a few moments, then briefly retraced her path up to Elizabeth's lips. She kissed them gently, granting the woman a taste of herself. "Oh my God, girl," she said, "you'd think you haven't been laid in years."

"I don't think I have," Elizabeth whispered, her eyes still closed. "Not like that."

"You're kidding. Benton never went down on you?"

"Yes, he did, but it was always a warm-up, never the main event."

Maggie shook her head. Men, she thought.

Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes, gazing lovingly at her friend, then pulled her down for a lingering kiss. "A guest shouldn't do all the work," she said when they parted. "May your hostess attempt to return the compliment?"

Maggie crinkled her face. "Uhh, gee, I'll have to think about that for a New York Minute..."

"How does a minute in New York differ from anywhere else?" Elizabeth asked, perplexed.

"Not a minute, a New York Minute. It's the smallest unit of time that human science is capable of measuring or conceiving."

"Ahh..." Elizabeth smiled. "Sort of the opposite of a Texas Mile."

"Right." Maggie rolled off of Elizabeth, onto her back. She stretched contentedly as Elizabeth took her place on top of her and kissed her again. This was the other great advantage to making love to a woman, she thought. When done right, it inspires her to do the same to you.

Elizabeth spread over her body like a warm blanket, albeit one that seemed to seek out all her most sensitive spots. Elizabeth's mouth went straight to her breasts, exploring them, reveling in them. She approached them like a child with a fascinating new toy. Maggie generally tried to avoid relationships with straight women - they always ended badly when the novelty was over and they went back to men - but she couldn't deny it was fun to watch them discover the differences from men's bodies. Elizabeth kissed and licked each nipple, bringing them to the hardness of diamonds.

As she moved down over Maggie's stomach, however, Maggie began to sense a stiffness and hesitancy in her actions. "That's good," she soothed, trying to encourage her. "Just like that."

Elizabeth's skills at orally pleasuring a woman were sparse, but she was a quick and adaptive student, and an eager practitioner. She almost made up in enthusiasm what she lacked in experience or technique, and she succeeded in bringing Maggie to climax in due course. Maggie wouldn't have ranked it among her all-time greats, but it certainly got the job done. There was no denying it was anticlimactic, however.

Elizabeth looked up, the disappointment clear on her face. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's okay, that was fine," Maggie told her, stroking her hair. The truth was, she could have done better with her own hands, but she didn't want to crush the other woman's spirits by saying so. It figured, she thought wryly, that the one thing Elizabeth was less than expert in was making Maggie come.

As much as she tried to hide it, Elizabeth obviously caught the gist of her feeling. Her face fell into misery as she bit her lip. Taking pity on her, Maggie pulled her gently up until Elizabeth's head rested on her chest. "It's okay, really," she whispered, holding the Englishwoman like a distraught child.

"I'm sorry, Maggie, I so wanted to please you," Elizabeth said, her voice tight.

Maggie held her closer and kissed the top of her head. "Don't feel bad, honey," she replied. "Nobody hits a home run their first time at the plate."

Elizabeth had to chuckle at that. "Why do Americans always resort to sporting metaphors when talking about sex?"

"National obsession, I guess. Like you and that 'cricket' thing."

"Don't go there," Elizabeth warned her, humorously. But Maggie could feel the hot wetness of tears on her chest. "I'm sorry, I'm usually considered quite a good lover. I don't know what happened..."

"Well...you remember when you first kissed me, back on the couch?"

"Yes?"

"You had it perfect then, just needed to apply that same style. Same thing you did to my mouth, only lower." She brushed strands of hair off Elizabeth's face. "I think you just put too much pressure on yourself, and you choked."

"Well, it's your own fault. You did set the standards rather high just prior."

"Thanks, I think." A thought came to Maggie. "You know what it's like? It's...it's like making a speech."

Elizabeth raised her head and stared quizzically at Maggie. "How on earth is it like making a speech?" she asked. "Am I meant to picture my audience naked? That's not much of an effort."

"No, see...you don't want to say everything in the same tone and speed, or you'll bore your audience."

Elizabeth looked skeptical, but rested her head on Maggie's chest again. "Go on..."

"Well, um...it never hurts to start off with a joke..."

"A joke...?!"

"I mean, keep it light at first, then get into more serious areas once you've got their attention."

"You're making this up!"

"No, I'm really not," she lied. "Then, once you've got their attention with your opening declaration, then you want to follow up with your supporting arguments." Hey, I'm on a roll here, she thought. "You make bold, sweeping statements, then go into more detail, covering all the fine points."

Elizabeth giggled.

"Then, for your summation, you really want to grab 'em. Cover all the bases one more time, then really drive your point home and wind it up with a big finish."

"And if I do all this correctly?"

"You'll get a standing ovation."

Elizabeth laughed louder, her spirits clearly improved. "This is the silliest metaphor I've ever heard," she declared, "but it actually makes some sense, I think. I'm supposed to be quite the orator, after all."

She lifted her face with a smile, and Maggie kissed her again.

"They say practice makes perfect," Elizabeth added in a more sultry tone, raising herself. "May I have another go?"

"Sure," Maggie said. Then, "Wait, you know what? Let's try a debate."

"A debate? How do we...ohhh." Her eyebrows arched as she took Maggie's meaning.

"Here, follow my lead." Maggie rearranged herself so that she and Elizabeth were lying side-by-side on the bed, inverted head-to-toe, and snuggled in between each other's thighs.

She allowed her lips to brush lightly against the other woman's labia, feeling an equally fleeting kiss against her own. She let the tip of her tongue glide over her lover's clitoris, and received a matching gesture, simultaneously. The electric shiver of delight made her moan softly into Elizabeth's groin, and she felt an identical vibration against her pelvis. They picked up the pace.

Elizabeth matched Maggie's every action, breath for breath, stroke for stroke. Maggie clasped Elizabeth's buttocks and the Englishwoman's fingers dug into her own in immediate response. For a moment, Maggie had the peculiar image of somehow making love to herself, like some exotic lesbian cloning experiment run amok.

It became clear to Maggie that Elizabeth's skills were growing in leaps and bounds, and she showed none of the same nervousness as before. As her tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot, Maggie responded with a sharp gasp. Rather than mimic her, though, Elizabeth forged ahead, taking the lead. Oho, so the pupil wants to outstrip the master, eh?

Maggie applied herself with renewed vigor, as though competing in a race. One in which neither competitor wanted to reach the finish line any too soon. They dueled deliciously, one taking control, then the other, each deriving intense pleasure in the process. Holy shit, I've created a monster, Maggie thought, just before losing the capacity to think clearly. A beautiful, maddeningly gifted monster...

The two women brought each other to virtually simultaneous orgasm - an event unprecedented in Maggie's experience - and then rolled apart, limbs unfolding like flower petals. They lay on their backs, their perspiration cooling.

Elizabeth laced her fingers through Maggie's, tracing her thumbnail across the American's palm. Following the love line. "Was, ah, was that any better?" she asked, a little hoarsely.

"I'll tell you...when I can catch my breath," Maggie gasped in reply. I may have been a terrible student in nursing school, she thought, but as a teacher, I rock!

"Am I really your first woman?" Maggie asked her later, leaning back against her.

"You certainly are," Elizabeth replied, hugging her from behind. "And well worth the wait, if I may say so."

"You may." She let her fingers trail in the sudsy water. Elizabeth's bathtub was a little snug for two people, but if they were cozy, it wasn't uncomfortable. Most of the bubbles had dissolved, but the water was still pleasantly warm, if no longer hot. "Does it come as a surprise that you enjoyed it so much?"

"Less than you might think, actually..."

"Well, gee, thanks a lot!"

"Oh, no, no, it's less of a surprise, I mean," Elizabeth hastened to assure her, "not that I enjoyed it less."

"Oh? Had a secret hankerin' for the fairer sex, have you?"

"Not as such. I've never thought of myself as particularly sapphic - though I've occasionally been called amazonian - but I've often had a rather interesting thought on the subject."

"Which is?"

"Well, I once saw this episode of 'Star Trek'..."

"Oh my God, you're a closet Trekkie!"

"I am not!" Then, "Well, I will admit that I found Leonard Nimoy rather intriguing."

"Yeah, I got the same thing with Terry Farrell. Sorry, I distracted you. You saw this episode, and...?"

"Well, it seems that William Shatner somehow exchanged bodies with a woman, leading to some of his hammiest acting ever. And it struck me that, if a man and woman could somehow exchange bodies like that, and if they were suitably open to experimentation, I believe it would do wonders for their sex life. After all, they would each be in a position to provide the other with maximum pleasure, knowing what feels good from an insider's point of view."

"So you've imagined, what, putting on Peter Benton's body, and fucking yourself?"

"It does provide hours of fun for a fertile imagination, doesn't it?" Elizabeth let a palmful of water trickle over Maggie's back and arms. "Of course, it's an entirely hypothetical scenario, but I'd guessed that being with another member of the same gender might have a similar effect."

" 'Cause you'd know the territory more intimately?"

"Precisely. For example..." She slipped her arms around Maggie's waist, the left hand cupping a breast, while the right one slithered between Maggie's legs. Her fingers probed gently, then entered knowledgeably. She kissed the side of Maggie's neck, biting gently.

"Mmmm, what are you...?" Maggie broke off her question as the answer became obvious. "Oh. Ohhhhh..." She raised her left leg onto the rim of the tub, allowing Elizabeth greater access, of which the Englishwoman took full and immediate advantage. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph..."

Whatever Elizabeth's hand was doing to her was indescribable, even to an experienced practitioner like Maggie. Those fingertips were hitting spots that she never even knew she had. Maggie's head fell back against Elizabeth's shoulder as she surrendered herself to her lover's attention.

Other women had brought her to climax manually, but not quite like this. It was like comparing the athleticism of a football player to that of a ballet dancer. Both involved strength and coordination, but where one was merely powerful and forthright, the other was amazingly graceful and beautiful. She'd never felt anything like this before.

"Ohh, God...Eliz...abeth...you..." Her words fell apart, the syllables unable to combine into recognizable patters, like atoms in a nuclear furnace. She gripped the sides of the tub, the involuntary convulsions of her body sending wavelets of soapy water sloshing. Suds trickled onto the tile of the bathroom floor.

The sensations of Elizabeth's hands, one between her thighs, the other kneading at her breast, combined with the warm, wet tongue in her ear, drove Maggie to a plateau unlike any she'd ever enjoyed before, and straight into her first out-of-body experience. For a brief moment, she was standing on her head amid some alien landscape on the far side of the galaxy...and then her soul flew back into her body.

Her spine dissolved, and she might have slipped under the water and drowned, if not for the woman supporting her head and gently kissing her face and neck. Maggie found her voice with great effort. "How...did you learn...to do that...?"

"Well," Elizabeth replied, "let's just say that, when one is alone in a strange country, with little time for dating and no recourse except masturbation...one quickly grows to appreciate having the hands of a surgeon."

"I take back everything I said about your profession," Maggie told her. "Thank you."

"No, Maggie, thank you." Elizabeth kissed her temple.

"For what?" she asked, unconsciously echoing Elizabeth's earlier question.

"For making me feel desirable again," the taller woman replied, holding her close. "I told you I don't blame Peter, but...he was slow to enter our relationship, and quick to abandon it. It's difficult not to take that as a reflection of one's personal attractiveness. Then, when you pursued me, as confusing as that initially was, I realized how wonderful it was to feel wanted by someone. It was something I hadn't felt in ages, Maggie, and I'm so grateful to you for it."

It was the sweetest thing anyone had said to Maggie in years, and it made her feel lower than rat droppings. The little voice didn't even have to say anything; she knew her conscience couldn't stomach the deception any more.

"Elizabeth..." she ventured.

"Mmm?"

"I...I haven't been trying to seduce you."

She couldn't see Elizabeth's expression, but she could hear the puzzlement in her voice. "You haven't? Then what on earth have you been doing?"

Oh boy. Here was the hard part.

"I was..." She had to clear her throat. "I've been trying to harass you."

The air seemed to chill, and even the water felt cooler.

"When you didn't back me up in the harassment suit against Romano, I thought you didn't take the whole issue seriously, and I...I was really angry, and I wanted to show you how it felt..."

"Get out." The words were flat and hard.

"Elizabeth, I'm sor-"

"Get out of the tub, Maggie."

Maggie stood, unable to turn and look Elizabeth in the eye, and stepped out of the bathtub. She picked up a towel and began drying herself off, trying to ignore the burning ache in her heart. I deserve this, she thought. I lied to her, used her, and she has every right to...

"Dry yourself quite thoroughly, please," Elizabeth said in the same flat tone. "I don't want my bedsheets soaked."

Maggie nodded, complying...then, "Bedsheets?"

"Yes. Once I'm out of the bath, we're going straight back to bed."

Maggie turned abruptly, sudden hope rising. She found Elizabeth looking at her with the faintest touch of a smile bordering her stern expression. "You...you're not angry with me?"

"Well, yes I am," the surgeon replied languidly, "but...I suppose you might convince me to forgive you...if you were to make an appropriately eloquent and impassioned...speech?" There was a flirtatious lilt on the final word.

Her smile growing along with her spirits, Maggie dropped to her knees beside the tub, threw her arms around Elizabeth's neck, and kissed her with all the love she could muster. Elizabeth returned the kiss unreservedly, caressing her face.

"Oh my God, you're incredible," Maggie said when they parted. "I'm such a jerk for harassing you like that..."

"Silly girl, you still don't understand, do you?" Elizabeth lay a finger over Maggie's lips.

"What?"

"It's only harassment," Elizabeth said, "if the attention is unwelcome."

End.