Tomorrow 8

This story is not what you would consider a "stroke" story. If that is what you are looking for, you might want to try another story.

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The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission.

This story takes place in the fictional city of Springfield, California several hundred years in the future, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex.

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"Tomorrow . . ."

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"Where the fuck are my earrings?" Wendy shouted from bathroom where she had spent the last forty minutes making adjustments to her hair.

Cindy rolled her eyes but couldn't help but grin. She'd never met anyone THAT smart with THAT kind of a mouth on her. She had been sitting there patiently waiting for her date to get ready, but Wendy always took forever. Cindy's work clothes were folded neatly on the table of Wendy's apartment where they had been for an hour. She was blessed with the ability to be ready at a moment's notice. It pissed Wendy off to no end.

"Have you checked your ears?" Cindy replied loudly, plopping down in a chair and waiting for her companion to finish getting ready. Not that Cindy really cared if Wendy hurried. She wanted that night to last a while.

Wendy peaked out from the bathroom and stuck her tongue out at Cindy. "Smart ass," she said before returning to her search with a melodramatic huff.

"Better than being a dumb shit," Cindy shot back. She glanced over and saw the earrings on the nightstand, but she didn't say anything. She was enjoying listening to her lover's tirade about the nature of missing objects far too much to let the moment end.

Her attention was drawn to something else in the room as well. Boxes and boxes of Wendy's belongings. That put a serious damper on her mood, and it obviously reflected on her face.

"No sour expressions," Wendy said as she walked slowly into the room, her elegant blue gown clinging to her slim body like a glove. "You promised."

Cindy shook her head. "I just . . ."

Wendy sat in her girlfriend's lap and pressed a finger to the saucy brunette's lips. "We both knew that tomorrow was coming. I've got to go, and I've been putting it off long enough thanks to you," she said, grinning before giving Cindy and sweet, sweet kiss. "And it's not like we won't ever see each other again. So promise me again . . ."

"Okay, okay," Cindy replied. In the two years they had been together, Wendy had always managed to get her way. The woman had a way with words . . . no wonder she was a writer. "I promise. The rest of the night is just about having fun. There," she muttered, faking submission. "Are you happy?"

"Always!" Wendy said, making her way back to her feet. She quickly spied the earrings, then shot Cindy a dirty look. "Bitch."

"Takes one to know one," Cindy replied, shrugging her shoulders. She gave the other woman a once over. "So you decided to go blonde?"

"I wanted to see if it was REALLY more fun," Wendy replied, making one last adjustment to her hair. "Not bad for an old lady."

"You're only thirty-seven . . ."

"But a veteran of life!" Wendy shot back with an outrageous and horrible French accent.

"That's the last time I let you watch cartoons about a talking skunk," Wendy said by way of a completely insincere complaint.

"It's a habit I picked up from dating someone so childish."

Cindy rolled her eyes. She was only four years younger than her companion. But in actuality, Wendy tended to behave more like a kid than her (slightly) junior counterpart.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are . . ."

It had been Cindy's turn to sneak up on Wendy and plant a kiss on those lips. Then she kissed Wendy's neck, smelling that sweet citrus-like perfume she preferred.

"None of that," Wendy said with a smile. How she had ever managed to find someone so beautiful and passionate who would be willing to put up with her skinny ass was beyond her comprehension. Cindy was stunning in her little black dress that conformed nicely to her athletic body, and it was almost tempting to blow off other plans to start a night of debauchery. But she wanted their last night together for a while to be special, so she playfully pushed the amorous younger woman away and gave her a slap on the ass.

"Simmer down now," she said. "So where are we going anyway?"

"Nuh unh," Cindy replied. "You don't get to know until we get there."

"Spoilsport," Wendy said, but not at all unhappy about her lover's behavior. She knew that Cindy was taking the idea of separation hard, but she was doing her best not to let it show. "Well, I'm as ready as I'm going to be."

Cindy grinned and offered her "date" her arm. Wendy accepted it and leaned against her companion, allowing herself to be escorted to Cindy's ever-so-cute MiniCooper.

"What? No limo?" Wendy complained with a fake pout.

"This is a limo," Cindy replied with a straight face. "It's a baby limo."

"Ah. I see," Wendy replied, waving an arm extravagantly and then slowly worked her way into the passenger side of her carriage for the evening.

As Cindy pulled out onto the street, Wendy rested her head on the woman's shoulder.

"You're making it harder to drive," Cindy grumbled.

"I have COMPLETE faith in you to NOT crash"

"Yes, but you're an idiot." Cindy grinned, watching as Wendy fiddled with the controls to her radio. The woman was a brilliant writer and amateur philosopher, but she had a complete inability to navigate electronic devices. Eventually . . . after many, many, many attempts, found a station that she liked . . . and that Cindy despised.

"What did I tell you about country music in my car?!"

Wendy shrugged. "I don't remember. Whenever you start getting bitchy about something, I just tune you out."

"And I put up with you why?" But Cindy let the offense go . . . this time. Soon Wendy was humming along to an old Garth Brooks tunes, quite pleased with herself about conquering the "radio demon" as she liked to call it. No matter how often Cindy tried to get her to do it, she for some reason refused to call it XM radio. Since its infusion into pop culture, Wendy had developed an unusual disdain for the letter "X."

"Did you ever finish that manuscript, by the by?" Wendy asked.

Cindy rolled her eyes. She loved reading Wendy's books, but HATED acting as a proof reader. She was never sure how to provide constructive criticism on romance novels trimmed with Wendy's particular brand of humor. "You KNOW I have. I finished it yesterday afternoon when I was waiting in the lobby."

"You never told me what you think."

"I loved it as always," Cindy replied. "Though I'm not sure if it's going to sell as well as your last one. I don't think that the reading public is going to feel comfortable having a lesbian character in there."

"I figured it was time to let my readers know a little more about 'me.' Hopefully they'll forgive me this one time."

Cindy sighed. "If they don't, then they never deserved to read you."

Wendy kissed her lover on the cheek. "Ever my protector, aren't you?"

"Ever and ever," Cindy replied. The phrase was a running joke or comment between the two, and had been for the years they had known each other.

Wendy was looking out the window of the car, and suddenly leaned forward with a gasp. They had just pulled into the park lot of . . .

"The Grand Old Show-House?!" she squealed in delight. "Wait . . . isn't '1776' playing her this week?!"

Cindy tried to look innocent and failed miserably. The Grand Old Show-House was an amazing playhouse with incredible acoustics. And more importantly, everyone who attended a play there was treated to a wine and cheese extravaganza before each play and during intermissions. It was one of Wendy's favorite places to go, and she had been wanting to see 1776 again. It was one of her favorite musicals.

"How much did this cost you?" Wendy asked suspiciously, glancing out of the side of her eyes. "You really shouldn't . . ."

"Shut yer mouth," Cindy said primly. "I wanted to do this for you and so I did. Tickets are non-refundable, so just deal with it." She felt her hands grow a little clammy on the steering wheel. 'It's the least I wish I could do to make you stay,' she thought.

Cindy parked the car and quickly rushed around to he passenger side door, offering her arm to Wendy and then escorting her to the ticket window. Wendy's arm was wrapped around her girlfriend's and their hands were clasped. They got several disapproving looks from other patrons, but neither of them gave a rat's ass about what anyone else thought.

They found their seats and Wendy wasted little time ordering her first glass of wine. She had been somewhat limited in recent months in regards to her alcohol consumption, but had decided to throw caution to the wind that night. Cindy was driving, so she'd have to be careful, but her lover INSISTED on them both having at least one glass together.

Wendy raised her glass. "A toast," she said warmly.

"And what EXACTLY are we toasting?" Cindy replied curiously.

"Us," Wendy said. "To you . . . to me . . . and to two incredible years."

Cindy felt a lump in her throat, but smiled anyway. "To us," she responded. They intertwined their arms and sipped from their glasses. Then they kissed, and neither of them were even tasting the wine at that point.

The curtain rose and the crowd went quiet. Cindy spent more time glancing over at Wendy than she did at the stage. It didn't matter much . . . she pretty much had the music memorized. She couldn't even remember how many times she had gotten to Wendy's place and this soundtrack had been playing at full blast while Wendy was sipping Chardonnay and prancing around in that old blue terrycloth robe and shouting "It's hot as hell . . . in Philadel-phia!"

Wendy was swept up in the theatrics of it all. It was a good company and they really seemed to be enjoying performing as much as the crowd enjoyed watching. Her mouth moved along with each and every single word, and she sometimes mentally chastised herself when she got a word or moment of inflection wrong. She also glanced Wendy's way from time to time and noticed that her date was paying no attention to what was on stage.

'I wish I could make this easier for you,' she thought somewhat sadly. She sipped her wind and leaned back in the plush chair, listening to John Adams launch into his rant about the nature of Congress.

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Hours later . . .

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Despite her internal turmoil, Cindy was happy about how the evening had gone. Wendy had been grinning from ear to ear the entire play, and that grin had stayed with her all the way out to the car. Wendy had insisted on stopping for ice cream afterward (even though she was mildly lactose intolerant and didn't have much of an appetite anyway) because she knew how much of a chocolate-chip-cookie-dough-ice-cream fanatic that Cindy was. The athletic brunette mumbled something about Wendy trying to make her fat as she scarfed down a double-scoop in a cup. Wendy found the idea of Cindy EVER being "fat" to be amusing if somewhat ludicrous. The girl had an energy about her that hat attracted Wendy to her almost instantly. All of Cindy's clients thought the world of her, and Wendy understood why. And with each passing moment, she became increasingly interested in getting that sweet woman back to Wendy's place to finish off the night in the right way.

Cindy had similar things on her mind as she parked her little car right outside the complex where Wendy lived. Arm in arm, they took the long way back to Wendy's front door, stopping at the gardens that Wendy had liked so much and listening to the night birds chatter away. Cindy had to talk Wendy out of her plan to toilet paper another resident's landscaping . . . the resident in question was a disagreeable old bat who never had a nice thing to say about anyone. Wendy had traditionally responded by being as annoying sweet as she possibly could, just to get on the old lady's nerves.

When they finally got to Wendy's door, the slim woman turned around and leaned against the heavy wood, her hands behind her back and resting on the door knob.

"What?" she said coyly. "Did you think you were getting invited inside? What would the neighbor's think? I have a reputation to uphold!" she added, using an exaggerated Southern-bell accent.

"Yeah, but your reputation is one of being a shameless hussy," Cindy shot back. "But I suppose I could just wait out here if you prefer. Of course, my other clothes are in there," she added, a little more demurely. She hooked the straps of her little black dress with her thumbs and pulled them over her shoulders and slowly downward until her firm breasts threatened to pop out.

"Cindy!" Wendy say, positively aghast . "What are you . . ."

""I don't think I put this dress on right," Cindy purred. "It seems to be falling off." The dress crept downward another inch, with her nipples on the verge of coming into view.

Wendy turned around and quickly unlocked her door. As soon as the deadbolt slid to the side, she was spun around again and lifted from her feet by her much more fit lover.

"Carrying me across the threshold?" Wendy asked, suddenly almost shy. "You think you're in love with me or something?"

"Ever and ever," Cindy replied, kissing Wendy long and deep as she pushed her way through the door with Wendy still in her arms.

'She's way too light,' Cindy thought idly as she carried her woman to the bedroom. 'I wish she'd put on a little weight.' She was glad that it was dark in the apartment . . . Wendy wouldn't approve of Cindy's thoughts, and she could read her face like a book. Cindy quickly put her thoughts aside. She wanted to make the rest of that night as special as she could.

She lay Wendy down on the comforter. The only illumination they had was from the night-light next to the nightstand, but it was enough.

"I'm gonna take good care of you," Cindy whispered, running her hand up the front of Wendy's dress until she reached that slender neck.

"You always have," Wendy replied, waiting for her lover to lower her lips down just a little further. Then she felt that kiss . . . the kind of kiss you waited a lifetime for. Soft and strong . . . hot and heady . . . a mixture of fine wine and hot coffee waking up your nerves while making your head spin! She responded by touching the side of Cindy's knee and then slowly stroking her thigh. "How did I ever deserve you?"

Cindy didn't respond. She just helped Wendy roll onto her stomach, then slowly unzipped her dress. She peeled it away from Wendy's body, exposing the soft cotton undergarments she wore. Wendy actually preferred silk, but it tended to irritate her skin those days. She undid Wendy's bra and pulled it off, then sat next to her lover on the bed and placed her hands on the woman's shoulders.

"Ooh, what did I do to deserve this?" Wendy asked as Cindy began the gentle kneading of her slim shoulders.

"You were a sexy woman that I can't keep my hands off of," Cindy said, kissing her lover on the back of the neck. She loved the little shiver that such an act incited. She touched her tongue to the goosebumps that had popped up all over her lover's neck.

"You're just making it worse you know," Wendy whispered.

"I plan on making it all better in just a minute." She had meant that to sound sexy . . . it didn't sound that way in her head. She moved on though, kissing her way down Wendy's spine and letting her hot breath caress the small of the woman's back.

Wendy turned her head to get a better look at her "seducer." She bit her lip . . . 'She's too damn beautiful to be hanging out with me all the time anyway,' she thought. 'But tonight . . . she IS with me.'

Cindy stopped her tender attentions for a moment and reached into her purse. She had a small bottle of warming KY in there. She spread it on her hands, then returned those hands to Wendy's shoulders, beginning the shoulder rub all over again.

"Hmm . . . I think things might get a bit messy," Wendy cooed.

"I was rather planning on it." Cindy stood up and peeled her dress off. She had gone braless that evening and her underwear barely qualified as an actual garment. She straddled Wendy's back (while making sure not to put too much weight on the woman) and ran her hands from the back of the ribcage all the way up to Wendy's neck.

"Hey," Wendy said, almost chuckling. "I thought I told you to watch the hair."

"Oops," Cindy said, not caring much about Wendy's hair. "Just means that I'll have to find another place to put my hands." With that, she pushed one hand between Wendy's slender thighs and pressed a slick finger into the girl's sex. Long, slow movements from top to bottom ensued.

Wendy was quite content just to lie there and let Cindy work her magic. Her lover's compassion was only surpassed by her capacity for passion. And she felt a growing warmth in her body that only a lover's caress could entice.

"Let me turn over," Wendy said. "I want to look at you."

Cindy raised herself and helped Wendy turn over. She wasn't sure how much her lover would be able to actually see, but she didn't much care.

But Wendy's eyes had adjusted easily to the dim light, and was captivated by the eerie blue glow that washed over Cindy's taut body. The woman had always taken pride in her appearance, and her job kept her on her feet a lot. Wendy was beginning to buck her hips a little against her lover's finger, and that edged Cindy on. One or two fingers alternated between deep penetration and rubbing-the-surface action. Wendy placed her fingertips on the soft fabric over her woman's mound and started to rub. She really couldn't do much from her position, but it wasn't always about the result . . . sometimes it was just about the action.

"That's it baby," Cindy said with a chuckle. Both women always thought that "talking dirty" was corny, but that just made them do it to make the other laugh. And when she heard Wendy snickering, Cindy knew she had done her job. "Give it to momma," she continued. "You know what . . ."

"Shut up!" Wendy laughed.

Cindy leaned over and kissed the woman on the mouth, making it take a long time. "Make me," she sighed.

Wendy mustered her strength and held her lover's face close and gave her a kiss of her own. And they kept it up for seconds . . . minutes . . . Wendy didn't know how long. She knew she was cumming when it finally ended. Her orgasms weren't particularly vigorous, but they made her feel wonderful just the same.

"You DO realize that I owe you one?" Wendy sighed. "And no saying 'It doesn't matter' or 'You don't really need to.' My night . . . I get to taste you."

'Damn,' Cindy thought. 'She headed my excuses off at the pass.' She smiled. Wendy was always smarter than she was. "Okay, where do you want me? Okay, THAT was a stupid question." She shimmied up the bed on her knees, placing one leg on each side of Wendy's face and then grabbing the headboard. She lowered herself gently onto her lover's face, making sure not to put too much pressure on her neck. She felt her underwear being pushed out of the way and then that gentle tongue slipped inside.

Wendy savored the taste of her lover's pleasure center. She could tell that Cindy had just recently shaved . . . too smooth and delicious. She pressed in for a few licks, and then sucked on each inner labium in turn.

"As fresh as the first day I laid eyes on it," Wendy said approvingly, burying her tongue in that perfect quim.