Amy sat with her bare bottom planted against the cold linoleum floor, legs partly splayed. She was breathing heavily from the excitement of mere seconds ago. Her arms propped up her shaking body behind her, though they were as unstable as the rest of her. Amy's fingers tensed against the floor; she took a deep breath and then relaxed, stretching her legs, her shoulders, her fingers.
Quinne – the older woman who'd literally brought her to her fall – knelt down in front of Amy. She still had that mischievous grin on her face – the look of a girl who'd done something naughty and was proud of it.
"I think she likes it," Quinne said. "Maybe we should leave breakfast to later. The coffee will wait."
Amy held up a hand. "Hang...on...just let me catch my breath," she panted.
"Do you always seduce party guests in the morning?"
"Only when they walk in without panties," Quinne chuckled.
"Which you stole last...hey!"
Amy's reprimand was cut short as Quinne put an arm around her back and another around her legs and lifted her bodily off the floor. She yelped and instinctively wrapped her arms around Quinne's neck.
"Put me down!" Amy squealed.
"Sure thing, sweet lips," Quinne said, squeezing her as she strode across the room. They approached the marble countertop with a flourish; Amy was not petite but Quinne betrayed no stress swinging her effortlessly around. Amy had never encountered a woman with Quinne's build – she was tall, curvaceous and athletic, with next to no excess body fat. She lacked any kind of dancer's grace but still seem to glide smoothly and confidently.
Powerful, Amy thought. Quinne's a powerful woman.
Quinne lifted Amy a little higher and swung her around to sit her on the countertop. Quinne's hands slipped a bit and Amy's eyes went wide with shock as she dropped several centimetres. Luckily, her captor caught her before she went any lower, giving a her a wink as she cradled her legs.
"Here we go," the amazon said, placing her on the kitchen bench.
Amy squealed again as her warm posterior made contact with the freezing marble. She scrabbled to pull her shirt underneath her bottom, overbalancing in the process. Quinne caught her just in time to prevent Amy from rolling off the bench.
"Careful!" Quinne said. "The floor's not as hard as the bench, but it'll still hurt to fall."
"You put me here!" Amy retorted. "What are you doing anyway?"
Quinne wandered over to the kitchen sink and began to wash her hands. Amy had seen her from behind when she'd first encountered her but there was a strength and beauty to her movements. Amy hadn't noticed but Quinne had well-toned broad shoulders and a defined musculature. The stolen panties that she wore were several sizes too small and stretched across toned buttocks. Amy admired Quinne's taut thigh muscles and marveled the gap between them; though for a moment annoyance flashed across her mind.
Unless you were incredibly skinny or worked out daily, it was next to impossible to have the sought-after thigh gap. And despite her large stature and muscle tone, Quinne still had a discernible gap between her legs.
Life's just not fair sometimes, Amy thought.
She had attempted herself to create a gap for herself, but Amy found exercise an unendurable experience. Sweating, pain, and physical humiliation were all to be avoided, and nothing brought those conditions on better than exercise. Still, she had to admit the results might be worth it. Quinne was feminine and powerful from top to bottom.
Quinne finished washing her hands and dried them off with a nearby towel.
"I didn't want you to slip around again – my hands were just a little bit too wet to keep a solid grip," she said.
Amy blushed. This other girl had a knack of making her feel so dirty and yet...
"Can I get down now?" Amy asked.
Quinne calmly walked towards her, stopping in front of her dangling legs and placing warm hands on Amy's knees.
"I don't think you're quite relaxed enough," the taller woman responded. "I want to see you like you were last night, but this time sober." She winked again.
"I think not. This might have been a bit too much excitement as it is. Why don't you scooch out of the way so I can..." Amy began.
Quinne started to stroke up and down Amy's legs. Endorphins rushed to her brain and for a moment, she lost the power of speech. Amy twitched and continued.
"...get dressed and go home. What are you doing now?"
Quinne grinned, pressing more deeply into her thighs, massaging from kneecap, upward and moving tantalizingly inward which each stroke.
"Did you know," she started, slowly pushing Amy's legs apart on the bench. "...that a woman's body increases with sensation with each touch?"
Amy instinctively began to spread her legs wider. The massage was warming her whole body and each stroke of Quinne's hands against her thighs made Amy breathe heavier.
"What's more, variations in touch, intensity and quality of sensation all make a woman's body even more susceptible to pleasure," Quinne continued.
Amy half closed her eyes and let the feeling of the touch encompass her. Hands pressed against her flesh and caressed, brushing across her pubic mound. Her seated position was a wonderful angle for a leg massage, but fingertips could only get so close to a place of greater pleasure. Still, she felt almost weightless, like she was reaching some peak, being lifted...
She jerked suddenly as she realized her legs were being lifted upwards – Quinne had firmly grasped Amy by her calves and was pointing towards the ceiling.
