**Author's note:** This story is part of the Milly series - a collection of stories following a woman's journey into sexual exploration and self-discovery.
This is the continuation of Milly's encounter with the mysterious female bodybuilder she met at the gym, and which was kindly requested by a few readers. Now, in a candlelit bar and a high-rise hotel suite, things go even deeper. Sasha doesn't just remember Milly - she wants her. All of her.
if this sounds like your thing, great. If not, no worries. There's a lot more to explore.
I look forward to your comments and feedback.
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The bar didn't have a sign.
You either knew where Lune was, or you didn't. It wasn't the kind of place you stumbled into - it was the kind of place you were invited to find.
Milly stepped through the heavy black door and into the unfamiliar space.
Low ceilings and stone walls. A hundred candles flickering in thick glass jars, throwing shadows that seemed to dance across polished dark wood and worn leather furniture.
A jazz quartet played in the far corner - slow and mournful, almost too soft to hear. Not loud and brash like many city bars, just the low hum of a sultry voice sliding over the rim of a glass.
Milly's heels clicked softly on the floor as she entered, the sound swallowed by the place.
And there she was.
Sasha.
Sitting near the bar like heaven sent sin.
Tall. Late 20s at most. Built like a goddess from some ancient myth - all beautiful muscle, rippling and defined under flawless bronzed skin.
Her black leather trousers clung to thick, powerful thighs, the curve of her sculpted arse mesmerising. A black silk camisole strained across her chest and her surgically enhanced breasts were impossible to miss - big, full, high, perfectly round, sitting proud against the lean, sculpted frame.
Long, raven-black hair was slicked back into a brutal ponytail. Lipstick the deepest shade of ruby red. On her feet she wore killer black stilettos, the patent leather catching the candlelight, and which seemed impossibly delicate under the raw power of her body.
She looked like she could break a man over her thigh. Or fuck him to death without even losing her breath.
Milly wasn't here to resist her. No, she was here to surrender. Give herself to Sasha fully.
Because she wanted this.
Had dreamed of it.
Had ached for it since the gym, since that moment against the frosted glass where she'd come undone in Sasha's hands.
And tonight...tonight, she was ready for whatever came next.
Milly adjusted her dress, herself looking as good as the surroundings. She wore a black satin dress that clung to her own curves and slid over her hips like a second skin.
In her early 40s she still turned heads, and she loved it. Increasingly confident in her own skin, the duckling that had become a swan.
Her fair hair was pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, soft strands framing the sharp green glint of her eyes. Her curvy yet athletic frame moved with a grace she hadn't always had - long legs, toned arms, a waist still trim enough to make younger women look twice and older men forget their wedding vows.
She wore confidence now the way she wore that dress - unapologetic, and in complete control of her destiny.
She crossed the room slowly, heels beating a steady rhythm against the floor.
Sasha's head turned at the sound and she gave a slow and dangerous smile.
Milly's heart hammered, but she didn't slow.
Sasha rose from the seat in one fluid movement - towering over Milly in those glossy killer heels, a force of nature wrapped in silk and leather.
For a heartbeat, they just stood there, a breath apart.
Candlelight painted Sasha in golden tones. The faint scent of her perfume - dark and spicy - wrapped around Milly tightly.
"Hello, beautiful," Sasha said in a low voice.
She reached out, carefully tucking a stray strand of Milly's hair behind her ear. Her fingers brushed Milly's cheek.
Milly shivered, but held Sasha's gaze.
"I was starting to think you wouldn't show," Sasha murmured, thumb trailing along Milly's jawline.
Milly smiled, surprising herself with her boldness.
"Did you really think I'd miss this?" she whispered back.
Sasha chuckled. "Good, I'm glad you did. I love a woman who knows what she wants."
She leaned in, her mouth lightly touching Milly's ear.
"And tonight, you're going to get everything you've been craving."
***
Sasha slid back onto her seat - legs parted just enough to send a message - and patted the one beside her.
Milly hesitated for half a second.
Then she perched next to Sasha, feeling the warmth of her body immediately.
So close. So dangerously close.
Sasha waved two fingers at the bartender, who appeared with practiced efficiency.
"Two Old Fashioneds," Sasha said, her voice itself smooth like well aged whiskey.
Milly didn't argue.
The glass was cool in her fingers when it came, the bourbon inside rich and dark.
Sasha raised hers slightly in a lazy toast.
"To unfinished business," she said, her voice low.
They clinked glasses - the soft chime of crystal against crystal temporarily breaking the candlelit hush.
Milly took a slow sip.
The bourbon burned deliciously down her throat - but it was nothing compared to the heat blossoming low in her belly as Sasha's hand slid onto her thigh.
Not rough or forceful. Just there - heavy, hot, and possessive.
Milly bit her lip, but didn't pull away.
She angled her body slightly toward Sasha instead, crossing her legs so her thigh pressed harder into Sasha's hand.
Sasha's mouth curved into a wicked smile.
"You remember the last time we touched, don't you?" she murmured, her thumb tracing slow, lazy circles just above Milly's knee.
Milly shivered. Every nerve ending seemed wired to Sasha's touch.
She nodded, once. How could she not?
"Good," Sasha said.
She leaned in, her mouth again against Milly's ear, her voice a dirty purr.
"Because I plan on making you remember tonight just as vividly."
Milly's stomach flipped. She sipped her drink to steady her hands, but it was useless.
Her skin buzzed. Her panties were already damp. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
And Sasha just watched her. Patient. Confident. Hungry.
Milly set her glass down with a soft click.
The jazz band shifted into a slow ballad - a woman's voice sliding through the air, singing something about love and ruin and too much liquor.
Milly met Sasha's gaze.
"I'm not here by accident," she said, steadily.
Sasha's smile deepened.
"Good," she replied.
Her hand slid higher - inch by inch - under the hem of Milly's short satin dress.
Not enough to shock. Not enough to be seen.
But enough to let Milly feel how easily Sasha could own her again. Here and now, if she chose to.
Milly's thighs parted instinctively. Part invitation, part surrender. But also a challenge.
Sasha's fingers touched the bare skin of Milly's inner thigh. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her pussy, but still not touching where Milly needed it most.
"You're so wet already, I can sense it," Sasha whispered hard against Milly's ear.
Milly moaned under her breath and Sasha chuckled.
"Finish your drink, beautiful. Then I'm taking you somewhere you can properly beg for it."
Milly's hand trembled slightly as she lifted the glass to her lips. Not from nerves but from need. A deep, visceral need.
She drank.
Tonight belonged to her. To them.
***
The cab smelled faintly of leather, diesel, and old money.
Sasha slid in first, sprawling across the backseat like she owned it. Like she owned the whole fucking city.
Milly followed, heart still hammering, sliding in beside her - close enough to feel the heat coming off Sasha's body.
The door slammed shut.
The driver nodded once, wordlessly, as Sasha gave him an address, and pulled out into the slow churn of London's night traffic.
The city flashed by outside. Neon lights and slick black tarmac, glistening under the lingering heat of the hot summer evening.
Inside the cab, the air was equally heavy and loaded.
Milly sat primly at first, hands folded in her lap, feeling her dress cling to her damp skin.
Sasha watched her, a lazy smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
"You're nervous," Sasha said - not mocking, just observing.
Milly swallowed.
"No," she said, and it was almost true.
It wasn't fear she felt.
It was heat.
It was hunger.
It was remembrance.
The memory of Sasha's mouth on her skin, the press of her strong hands, the electricity of that brief encounter they had shared in the gym changing room.
The anticipation of it happening again.
Sasha laughed. "You should be," she said.
And then, without warning, Sasha reached over. She hooked one thick, powerful arm around Milly's waist and dragged her across the seat into her lap. As she did her right bicep exploded into a massive, powerful peak.
Milly gasped. Half in shock, half exhilaration - and found herself straddling Sasha, her dress riding high around her hips, the hem barely covering anything.
The driver said nothing.
London's lights flickered over them - casting them alternately in gold, in shadow, and then in crimson.
Milly's hands came up instinctively, bracing herself against Sasha's chest.
Sasha's muscles flexed beneath her palms.
God, she was huge, thought Milly - all sculpted power and impossible, mouth-watering femininity.
Suddenly Sasha's mouth was on hers.
No slow build, no teasing. Their lips crashed together, tongues tangling instantly.
Sasha kissed like she might fight - with total domination, with the hunger of someone who knew she was going to win.
Milly moaned into the kiss, grinding down against Sasha's hard thighs, feeling her panties already soaked, her body betraying the filthy thoughts racing through her mind.
Outside, London pulsed past in a blur - glass and steel, neon and night.
Inside, there was nothing but hot breath and hands.
Sasha's roamed Milly's body without shame. Hands sliding up her thighs, cupping her arse, tugging her tighter against her.
"You're fucking desperate for it, aren't you," Sasha growled against Milly's mouth.
Milly whimpered.
"Say it," Sasha demanded, teeth nipping Milly's lower lip.
Milly's head fell back, gasping, lost in the moment.
"I'm desperate," she whispered. "Desperate for you."
Sasha's laugh rumbled through her chest.
