As a butterfly flits its wings hither, a hurricane happens thither, and there was no way to predict that the happenstance of an accidental nudge on the street precipitated this moment of bliss. Lilly walked down the busy Houston, Texas sidewalk, looking down at the brochure she just acquired from her recent interview at the Jonah Kyle Institute for International Studies.
Ironically, it was a butterfly that had fluttered erratically in front of Lilly, distracting her as she walked down the sidewalk in front of Olde Tyme Book Emporium. A girl with lustrous black hair was backing away from the southwestern motif of the exterior of the bookstore, clicking away at her camera, just enough so that a small nudge was inevitable. The girl's camera accessories tumbled to the ground, including three lens protectors, a lens cap, and a small vintage camera case with an interesting golden trim.
Lilly exclaimed her surprise, and tried to apologize, but the girl was gracious. She even smiled, with a maturity years beyond her gorgeous, feminine persona. And a stunning, melodious Bolivian accent. "Relax, you're fine. No need to apologize. Here, you have some lint in your hair." The girl removed the lint from Lilly's trusses.
"Thanks. I'm sorry for your camera items, they don't look damaged." Lilly reached down to pick them up, but her gaze into the girl's eyes were unwavering. The girl knelt, they picked up her camera items, the girl smiling at her the whole time.
"I'm Felicita. Felicita del Buena Vista." Shaking Lilly's delicate hand, her boyish smile charmed Lilly instantly, along with nipples happily pressed against her New York Yankees shirt, draped by a light. Definitely a professional photographer from abroad, Felicita had an unusual scholarly ambiance about her. And definitely an unstated sexuality.
"Felicity, I'm Lilly. Very happy to meet you." Smiling back, she flushed inside. The attraction was obvious. Never one to be flummoxed by attractive women, Felicita leaned over and half-whispered into her ear. "Fel-i-ci-TA. With an "a" on the end, not a "y." Impulsively she kissed Lilly's cheek, lingering over her wonderful scent. After a sensuous breath, she turned to walk away, then turned back.
"Lilly, would you like a coffee?" Lilly's heart jumped. Her nipples tightened slightly, ever so slightly, as her libido churned briefly. The chemistry was so inherent, so lustrous. Inadvertently she garbled a word, recovered. "Yes, oh my yes I would!"
It was a whirlwind attraction. Over coffee, they exchanged pleasant but banal conversation, the content insignificant, the delivery unforgettable. Lilly felt a sensual awareness with Felicita that she rarely felt with other women, whom were either too snobby or too narcissistic. Relaxation and understated intelligence were just as powerful to attraction as physical beauty, particularly with simmering exuberance that Lilly found a joy to be around. Initial blushes turned into relaxed smiles; heartbeats normalized, then quickened with anticipation.
Within another hour, they were chatting with the intimacy usually found only among life-long friends and intimate lovers. Felicita's worldviews had transcended even those of Lilly, including her views on sex. And it was unmistakable: Sexuality was at the forefront of both their minds right now.
They first kissed fully and intimately after getting into Lilly's car; Lilly reaching over the handbrake of her Honda, joyfully taking in the soft, succulent lips of Felicita's darkly-colored lips. Her hand stroked Felicita's long, straight dark hair, Felicita's hand boldly caressing and grabbing Lilly's breasts through her light red blouse. After a minute, Lilly started to drive, but then stopped, slightly embarassed. "My parents are home tonight. Perhaps..."
"Of course, my friend. I have room at the local motel, including a Jacuzzi." Lilly's heart soared, her desire for Felicita slowly churning deep inside of her, their conversation non-existent yet communication sparkling with the intensity of attraction between them. After a moment, Lilly drove to the location, the name given to her by Felicita's husky, accented voice.
Once inside her room, Felicita found a bottle of California white wine. Pouring two glasses, she and sat down with a still lightly-flustered Lilly on the couch. The talked for a few more minutes, each voice emanating audio foreplay on the other's ear. A few more sips and a few more kisses were all that was needed to take them over the arousal horizon. Lilly stood up, took Felicita's hand, and took her to the Jacuzzi portico, adorned with the fine plastic plants Texas motels were world-renowned for.