My Team Captain Again

Rachel checks herself in the mirror by the door. "Off to group meditation," she calls out to her family as she whisks through the hall. Tonight will be different. Some of her meditation friends have agreed to a special gathering, experimenting with "legal" drugs in ceremony. She didn't need any more details to say yes.

There is an excited hum in the air when she arrives at the private location and takes her place in circle beside her good friend, Dahlia. Some people are wearing sarongs, everyone is comfortably clothed, and trying to appear relaxed.

Their "travel guide" delivers instructions and precautions. They discuss the chemical action of the drug, the cost to the body, and the vitamin cocktail that will ease recovery. It's intellectual stuff and important to understand but Rachel's mind keeps wandering. She wonders if they will get naked. She scans the room and knows that she hasn't seen any of these people without clothes on, except Dahlia.

Dahlia she has known since high school and has shared many a locker room when they played sports together. Dahlia is the quintessential athlete, dark skin with small-breasts, narrow waist, and hips that literally explode into a gravity-defying ass. Everything about her is muscle and potential; it was Dahlia who pulled the team up when they were behind; Dahlia who always gained the day.

Oh, Rachel could vividly recall the times she followed Dahlia into the showers with her teammates after an intense match. Rachel tried not to linger on Dahlia's back or follow the trail of water splashing over the taunt dimpled cheeks, trickling down between parting skin. Oh jealous water and those places she has never seen.

Rachel sighs and shrugs off her train of thought. Dahlia is a bestie. They have been through everything together including Dahlia's heartbreaks and travel missions, the birth of Rachel's children, and eventually growing more responsible together. Tonight, they were fleeing the laundry that ruled Rachel's married life and young children - to meditate. Dahlia notices Rachel's wry freckled smile and gives her a playful jab in the ribs. Rachel leans in for a moment to squeeze Dahlia's thigh in return and her auburn hair makes a curtain for her too eager face.

The medicine is taken and the guided journey begins, accompanied by a wicked playlist. The music has been carefully selected to build to climax in the hero's journey. As Rachel and friends relax into the experience, familiar songs become new again and she is capable of hearing more complexity in the sound, more harmonics. Some people are up and moving in their space. One song slips seamlessly to the next, throbbing drumbeats and passionate vocals. These are songs she knows and loves; yet they are transformed. With the aid of the drug, she can literally see the energy of the music dancing in front of her eyes. Feeling good. Feeling expanded.

Rachel notices the group is unifying its energy and experiencing more compassion for themselves and each other; it is electrifying. The explicit rule is to dance in your own space. It is provided for safety and everyone has agreed, so it gives her freedom to move without unwanted attention or tension.

To Rachel's delight everyone's clothing falls away, naturally and without guile. She admires her own body, bathed in the low light, the pleasure of naked skin. Soon she is dancing over the candle flame in the centre of the room. Barely able to feel the heat, but in her heightened awareness she is making love to the flame, wicking it higher. She hears Dahlia laugh beside her, and she sees the bubbles of laughter hanging in the air, reaching out for them with her fingertips.

For a few moments, she lands in the room and notices the others; how wild is their dancing; how animal-like are their cries. It is intense and primal and it momentarily shocks her. She thinks of other times in history when this gathering would be cause for death, condemned. How her sense of freedom is a gateway to lust and temptation. But as she banishes the old notion, she moves into a delicious new space past taboo. Nothing can be made right or wrong here and she savours the freedom.

The room is getting hotter, and Rachel can feel each hair on her skin. Tuning into the dancers around her, the hero's journey is favouring climax and there is molten hot energy moving through the dancers. She drinks it as the elixir, as if she could absorb it through the pores of her body. Bliss. Body Bliss.

The dosage was exact and the ceremony winds down as time travellers return to their skin but Rachel doesn't feel like she can fit into her old skin. There is still a sense of being limitless and even though the ceremony is sacred, there is no question that everyone is jacked up and ready for sex. It hangs in the air like a fog as they prepare to snack and debrief. Fuck that.

Rachel sets her sight on Dahlia and her body responds in wanton desire. I want this woman she finally admits to herself. She approaches Dahlia boldly, feeling more electrified as she whispers, "I want to take this even higher," her heart beating wildly at the idea. "We can make this work, and it won't be awkward after," she continues, wondering if she is begging, and then stops with her heart in her throat. If she's rejected she will just blame it on the drugs.

To her surprise, Dahlia nods and takes her by the hand. Rachel is suddenly swept away with devotion and anticipation. It is all she can do to focus on that firm grip as they leave the party hastily for Dahlia's flat, the consummate bachelorette. By the time they break through the door to Dahlia's apartment, they are already kissing. Her curious wondering about what it would be like to kiss her gorgeous friend gives way to pure sensation. God women are so beautiful. All she can manage to whisper is "Dahlia," like something branded on her skin.

She can't recall the removal of clothing. It is so mutual, and plays out while they are still kissing intensely. At first, it is strange to caress Dahlia's smooth body and to tug her full soft lips. This must be what it feels like when a man touches her. But her exploration with her breath, lips and tongue down Dahlia's neck moves steadily toward an eager swell of breast. This delights her partner, and Rachel quickly thrills to the new terrain.

In the presence of her friend's feminine receptive energy, Rachel is emboldened and she feels masterfully masculine in the moment. Could it be the lingering effects of the drug? She is looking with different eyes, she feels stronger. Her grip on Dahlia's breast becomes even more urgent.

They stumble down the hall to the bedroom and Dahlia lies back on the bed. Rachel bends over her, grasps her ankles to pull her powerfully closer and to spread her legs at the same time. It is a gesture of command that makes her friend gasp and then giggle and sweep her arms across the bed to spread herself open like a dark angel. Rachel is surprised herself that she is the one on top of the team's most valuable player, her captain.

Oh the curves and creases of pleasure as she looks down on her, the splay of her long dark body against the snowy sheets. Her heart aches with tenderness as she runs her hands up the smooth belly and breasts while her friend inhales deeply. She watches her own lily white hands as they sculpt Dahlia's nipples into rock hard crests. Rachel's long curly hair tickles her partner as she moves above her, kissing and stroking. Even though they are so different with Dahlia's short dark coils cresting her pubic mound against Rachel's grinding crimson bush, this is a body like hers and she has a confidence about it - like she had read this owner's manual.

Encouraged by her friend's building breath and cries of delight, she wastes no time working it into a frenzy. She showers her with all of her moves. She becomes like the water she watched all those times in the high school showers, moving into cracks and playing just outside the doors of each cave, daring entry.

Dahlia begs please, and breathes yes, Rachel finally enters the first cave like an inbound wave, a swelling ocean. Wave after wave enters, and when Dahlia is almost overcome, Rachel washes into the back cavern to drown Dahlia in pleasure. Dahlia's body arches and quakes powerfully in a spectacular release, gushing her own water and clutching at the pillows. In the fierceness of feeling Dahlia burrows her hand into the back of Rachel's hair to press her against the landslide that has become her body.

Washed away in the expanse of Dahlia's release, it's not Rachel's orgasm but it sets them both adrift without form or feature. For a time, they say nothing and do not move. Rachel searches herself for the longing that sometimes comes when her husband has climaxed but she hasn't. What she feels instead is sweet grace. Collapsing together in a cuddle, she holds her friend in her arms, with her head on her chest. The similarity in size and length of leg makes this so easy and comfortable, she marvels at it still.

At first she is sleepy and so relaxed that she barely notices the dark hand that is feathering its way down her stomach. When it reaches between her legs and contemplates her sex, she bolts into alertness and she starts to channel the purr her clitoris would make.

It is her turn to receive her friend's bountiful attention and it spurs her to a greater sense of allowance and wild abandon. Dahlia brings her best to the game, and Rachel is back in the throbbing dance energy that made the evening. Dahlia loves with her whole body and Rachel feels like there are many lovers in the room - handling them both through a mob of pleasure and slick with juice and sweat. She happily loses herself in the throng and her climax is like an implosion.

It only seems like moments pass and Dahlia is softly swooping down on her again. Her hands are coaxing and reeling Rachel's body like small birds. Rachel takes the bait and this time they stalk cat and bird toward their soul force. Which is the prey, and which the predator, they entwine, release, and combine again. It's almost too much for Rachel. She staggers from the bed feigning surrender. Dahlia catches her again and presses her to the wall for an even more intense peak and surrender.

Rachel wonders if all women couple this intensely and have multiple orgasms, or it is just the force that is Dahlia? Either way, she has learned some new things, and intends to bring them home with her to her man. Especially, she realizes that each match should have a second half after intermission, or even several innings.

When it's time to leave she has to search down the hall for the various pieces of forgotten clothing and returns to dress in the pleasant fecundity of the bedroom, bottling that smell in her mind. Her friend watches the curve of her body as she pulls on her shirt and throws back her crowning flame of hair.

"That was so good, I don't know if I can do it just one time." Her friend giggles and puts her hand to her heart conspiratorially, "Well you know what they say about practice." It was something their coach used to say and it makes them both break out in laughter.

"I love you." Rachel says abruptly, full of emotion.

"I know," says Dahlia simply, "Me too."

Kissing wistfully again at the door, her friend is wrapped only in her bed sheet. Rachel takes a picture of that in her mind, flush-faced and tousled, like a dark Botticelli Venus stepping out of the ocean froth. It makes her feel possessive and if she weren't so spent, she would drag her by her by her lovely sheets back to the bedroom. She waves good-bye and walks the quick block to her own house where she reinstates herself quietly. Her ordinary sleepy life is waiting for her, with her husband, dog and two kids fast asleep. She feels more relaxed to fit into it now and her skin feels comfortable again.
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My Team Captain Again

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