London Twist: A Delilah Novella

shoulders and pushed her to the side. She slid out from under and straddled Fatima’s hips. “Now it’s your turn.”
    Fatima’s amber skin darkened. “No, you don’t have to—”
    Delilah laughed. “Have to? I’m dying to.” She pushed Fatima’s shoulders back, leaned in, and kissed her for a long moment. Then she stretched out alongside her and while they continued to kiss she reached down and began to touch her. She felt a bikini wax, the skin soft and smooth and hot beneath her fingertips. Her fingers slipped easily inside Fatima’s wetness, and the feeling of the woman moaning into her mouth while Delilah touched her was enough to make her want to come again. She kissed her way down Fatima’s neck, her breasts, her belly, all the while touching her, deeply but slowly, slowly, teasing her, tormenting her, making her desperate for more. She used a hand to spread Fatima’s legs wider and kissed her inner thighs, her pubis, her labia, all the while her finger sliding slowly in and out. Fatima whimpered and twisted and arched, but Delilah wanted more, she wanted Fatima to ask for it, to beg for it, to be insane for it as she had been. She kept kissing and licking, her tongue dancing toward and then away from what she knew Fatima really wanted. Finally, Fatima panted, “Please, make me come, please,” and Delilah instantly flicked her tongue over her clit. Fatima shuddered and gasped and Delilah kept licking, sliding one hand up to Fatima’s breasts to squeeze her nipples and continuing to touch her with the fingers of the other hand. Fatima moaned, “Yes, oh God, oh yes,” and Delilah licked harder, faster, and as Fatima’s breathing quickened and her hips began to rock Delilah sucked her clit into her mouth and flicked her tongue rapidly all over it. Fatima gasped and cried out, “Oh, oh, ohhhhh… ” and her back arched and her hands twisted in Delilah’s hair and Delilah kept sucking and licking and touching while Fatima arched and writhed. Only when she had collapsed back to the couch and was panting, “Please, no more, no more,” did Delilah relent.
    Delilah moved up and lay on her side next to her. Fatima turned her head and looked into her eyes. She saw the most delicious expression of… what? Wonder? Disbelief? Trust?
    “Not so bad, no?” Delilah said, smiling.
    And then a tear slipped out from the corner of one of Fatima’s eyes. Delilah was surprised, and a little worried. “Why are you crying?” she said.
    “It felt so good. But I also… I don’t know. I feel ashamed.”
    “Because it felt good?”
    “Because of… that I did that with a woman. I’ve wondered what it would be like, sometimes, but I never really thought… have you done that before? I’m not the first, am I?”
    A lie would have been safer, and more believable. But Delilah told her the truth. “You are the first.”
    “I don’t think I believe you.”
    “I’m sorry for that. It’s true.”
    “Why me?”
    “I don’t know. There’s something… something that makes me want to know everything about you. To know you in every way. Including in bed. Especially in bed. I don’t know why, but it’s true! I’ve never thought that way about a woman before—‘What would she be like in bed?’ Men, yes, all the time, and usually I’m right so it’s not even that interesting an exercise. But with you… I couldn’t tell. You’re so beautiful, and confident, and sophisticated, but also you’re Muslim, so maybe you would be… modest? Shy? Inhibited? Ashamed? I couldn’t tell. And I really… God, I really wanted to know.”
    “I hope you weren’t disappointed.”
    “Were you?”
    Fatima shook her head emphatically. “No.”
    “It was the same for me.”
    “Really?”
    Delilah laughed. “Could you not tell?”
    Fatima smiled. “I thought so, but… ”
    “If you have any doubts, you can do it again later.”
    Fatima laughed, and then her expression was serious. “I want to. Do it again later, I mean. We shouldn’t have waited until our last night.”
    “I know. We could have left here even better rested.” She moved her head closer and kissed Fatima softly. “God, you are lovely.”
    “Thank you.”
    They were running out of time. It might be now or never.
    “Do you want to see the pictures I took?”
    Fatima raised her eyebrows. “Now?”
    “Yes, now. Don’t you want to see what enflamed me so much?”
    Rather than wait for an answer and risk a demurral, Delilah sat up, grabbed