HEAT WAVE *HEAT WAVE* (*THE PUSSY TALES #1*) *By GILDA LILY* *Well, I recently posted an f/f/f story, "ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET BED", the first in the TALES OF THE QUEEN'S OWN, a series that will focus on Frannie, Elaine and Meg. In this series, I decided to do something a little different with the ladies. The ultimate irony: my Benny/Ray stories (and upcoming Renny/Ray K.)involve romantic love, foreplay, commitment, etc., all things that women traditionally like in their sex lives. But what if the roles reversed, and a series of stories was done in which women have casual sex just for the sheer pleasure of it, no commitments in sight, or even long-term relationships? Just quickies/hot sex! Works for me! :) Though affection and some sap may come into these stories, the purpose of THE PUSSY TALES will be to explore women's sexuality, no holds barred, and unusual/exciting pairings of all types of the women of DUE SOUTH. Please enjoy! Rated NC-17 for f/f sex. Comments to: jeanniemarie@sprintmail.com (c) August 23, 1998 *Well, that was it. The bloody air-conditioning was on the blink again. Jasmine plucked at her blouse, trying to squirm enough in her chair so that she wouldn't melt into it. The phone range and she cursed under her breath, then put sweetness and light into her voice as she said her spiel in both English and French. The caller asked a stupid question and hung up in a huff at the simple answer. Jasmine sighed and wondered if she could play American and get a gun and shoot everyone passing by on the street. "Uh, Jasmine..." She looked up and smiled at Constable Benton Fraser, who was looking a little flushed. Well, why not? He was wearing that damnable red serge. "Yes, Fraser?" "Hold my calls for about half an hour, will you?" "Sure." She watched him go into his office, a frown on her pretty features. Fraser rarely requested not to be disturbed. Oh, well. The heat was probably getting to him. She came from Toronto and was used to heat, while he was from the Northwest Territories and was more accustomed to sub-zero temperatures. She began to work on a boring task that nearly put her to sleep when the door of Fraser's office opened and he started to call, "Jasmine!" and slumped to the floor. "Omigod, Fraser! Turnbull, help me!" The young Mountie was by her side in seconds, helping carry Fraser into his office and stretching him out on his couch. Dief whined and nudged his human companion. "What's going on here?" Thatcher demanded, eyes widening at the sight of the fallen Fraser. "Constable Fraser has fallen ill, sir," Turnbull said. "I can see that," she snapped. "Jasmine, call Detective Vecchio." "Right away, Inspector." Jasmine dialed the Precinct's number. "Vecchio." "Detective Vecchio, this is Jasmine Boulet." "Hi, Jazz." She smiled at his nickname for her. "What's up?" "Constable Fraser has fallen ill." She heard his sharp intake of breath. "I'll be right over." He hung up the phone and she guessed he would break some traffic rules getting here. A cold compress was applied to Fraser's forehead, and the Mountie groaned, restlessly moving his hands. Turnbull was gentle as he said, "Please, sir. You must rest." Jasmine was impressed with that gentleness. Turnbull was a klutz, but there were worse things. "Looks like heatstroke," Thatcher commented. She loosened his collar and unbuttoned his tunic, Turnbull still wiping down Fraser's flushed face. In a matter of moments the sound of the Riv screeching to a halt in front of the Consulate was heard, then he slam of a door and footsteps pounding up the main staircase. "In here, Detective!" Thatcher called. Ray rushed in, worry clouding his handsome features. He knelt by the couch and said, "Hey, Benny, what's goin' on?" Blue eyes fluttered open and Fraser croaked, "Ray." "Yep, I'm here. You weren't standing outside on guard, were you?" "No, Ray." "Good. Hmm, looks like a bit too much heat. Let me take you home and I'll take care of you." "Thank you, Ray," Fraser said with a sigh, and Ray and Turnbull got Fraser standing up, Ray taking over and drawing an arm around his shoulders. "Thanks for calling me, Inspector." "Any time, Vecchio." It took awhile to get Fraser into the Riv, but once he did, Ray drove off with him and Dief. Thatcher said, "Back to work, people," and Jasmine and Turnbull scattered. * * * * * * Later that day Thatcher sent Turnbull off on an errand and told him that he didn't have to return as it would be almost quitting time. Jasmine toiled over her computer, swearing under her breath as she hit the wrong key for the sixth time. She leaned back in her chair and wiped her sweating brow with a handkerchief. Her short dark hair was plastered to her forehead. "Hell of a day," Thatcher grumbled, plunking a folder on Jasmine's desk. "Yes, sir," Jasmine agreed. She noticed that her superior had unbuttoned her lace-trimmed blouse, and that pearly-white skin was showing. Very nice. Thatcher chose that moment to look up and their eyes met. Heat shimmered between them, the silence of the Consulate almost oppressive. "My office," Thatcher snapped. Jasmine hurried to obey, nearly tripping on the carpet. She stood at the desk while Thatcher closed the door. The Inspector put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around. It was fast, the heat between them, and their mouths met with molten fire. They plastered their bodies together, sweat sticking their legs to each other while their skirts hiked up. Thatcher slid her hand up Jasmine's skirt and was rewarded by a moan. Jasmine unbuttoned the rest of Thatcher's blouse and caressed the gleaming skin. Thatcher closed her eyes as Jasmine insinuated her and down into her bra. She jumped as Thatcher's hand touched between her legs. They parted, Thatcher ripping off her blouse and Jasmine pulling her skirt down and tossing it away. They quickly divested themselves of their outer clothing, clad only in bras and slips, then the slips went. Thatcher knelt and grabbed Jasmine's legs, burying her nose in her subordinate's crotch. Jasmine groaned as she felt the heat of Thatcher's face push against her. Thatcher pulled down the panties and began to lick at her partner's pussy, Jasmine shuddering as she parted her legs a little wider. Darting wetness sent tingles up her spine, and she felt weak-kneed. Thatcher had a brutal grip on her thighs. Jasmine's breasts brushed against Thatcher's hair, and Jasmine quickly removed her bra. Moist skin caressed the silky hair, and her nipples bounced lightly on the dark-brown mane. Thatcher continued licking, Jasmine orgasming and nearly collapsing. Her superior gently laid the smaller woman out on the floor and then began to suckle Jasmine's breasts. Jasmine moaned and pressed the heel of her hand up against the panties of her lover. She rubbed and teased and Thatcher groaned, removing the underwear and shuddering as Jasmine thrust a finger in and out of her wetness. Jasmine removed Thatcher's bra and pinched her nipples while finger-fucking her. Thatcher came, her wetness covering Jasmine's hand. Breathless, they stopped for a moment, then Thatcher let go of Jasmine's breast and spread her legs. She lay between then, stretching out her lean form, then buried her face between Jasmine's legs. Jasmine cried out and clutched her lover's hair. The sensations were too much to bear. She orgasmed again and again, spewing forth cries of "Fuck me! Fuck me!" as Thatcher's finger slipped into her anus. Thatcher lifted her head, hair damp and hanging, her lips swollen. She licked them and then thrust her breasts into Jasmine's face. Jasmine quickly began sucking on her nipples, her hand massaging Thatcher's pussy. They were wild animals, grunting in the heat as they sucked and licked and fucked for endless blissful moments, rubbing against each other and wrapping themselves around each other with shaking legs. Sweat gleamed on their bodies, hearts racing as they climaxed in frantic desperation. Finally they lay exhausted, Jasmine's hand resting lightly on Thatcher's belly. The Inspector opened her eyes and licked her lips. "Well, an...*interesting*...afternoon." Jasmine smiled. "Yes, sir." They got up and dressed, Jasmine boldly patting Thatcher's naked ass, then she buttoned up her superior's blouse and turned to leave the office. "See you tomorrow, sir." "Right." Jasmine picked up her purse and decided to stop by Fraser's apartment and see how he was doing. Maybe Ray would give him a little extra TLC tonight in this heat wave. She smiled as she walked down the main staircase, soaked in sweat and wearing a big grin plastered on her face.* Return to Due South Fiction Archive