ENTRY 4 -BLACK - This is a Female Female entry

Ondine: An Erotic Tale of Art and Deception

By Giselle Renarde

http://www.freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/audiobooks.htm

The string of pearls Rejean’s mother had given Ondine slipped from her fingers as Yvette stepped into the cold stone room like an ominous apparition.  Why on earth would she have come to the wedding?  And wearing a black dress, no less!  She’d even dyed her strawberry blond hair to match.
 
“The Church looks lovely,” Yvette said, sauntering into the room as though she were taking a Sunday stroll through the arboretum.  “I understand you and Rejean decorated it yourselves with wildflowers from the park.  How very quaint.”
 
Ondine felt faint, and the tightness of her gown was no help. It seemed like she had to stand on her toes just to breathe.  She had no idea how to react.  “I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she replied, in a trance.  Her mind was lost in a dense fog and she couldn’t think of anything meaningful to say.
 
Clotilde had left the back of her dress undone, and Yvette fixated on that zipper in need of fastening.  A cruel smirk broke across her lips as she strolled toward her target. Dark skirts brushed the ground until Yvette stood close behind her, watching her in the mirror like a predator.   She placed one hand on Ondine’s shoulder.  With the other, she slowly zipped up the wedding dress.  It felt unbearably tight now.  How could she make it through her wedding without being able to breathe?
 
“Clotilde made this dress, did she?” Yvette inquired in a low voice.  She slid her fingers along Ondine’s bare shoulders.  “I would have done the same for you, if only you’d asked.  I would have bought you the finest fabrics, anything you wanted.  And I know you, Ondine.  I know you appreciate beautiful things.”
 
Ondine froze in place.  Unable to move or speak, she simply watched in the mirror as Yvette’s icy fingertips travelled the length of her collarbone and down her chest, settling on the small pendant hanging there.  She stood so close her hot breath burned Ondine’s neck.  “This is the bauble I gave you last Christmas,” Yvette said, rolling the ruby pendant between her fingers.
 
“You’re acting like I’ve done something to harm you,” Ondine finally replied, always playing the innocent with Yvette.
 
Releasing the pendant, she backed away.  “Haven’t you?”
 
“No.  I’ve done nothing wrong.  I’m getting married to a sweet young man who loves me very much.  Nothing could be more natural.”
 
“Natural,” Yvette laughed, shaking her head.  “Tell me, why are you really marrying Rejean?”
 
“You know why!” she cried, not wanting to pronounce the wicked words.  She looked away as she mumbled, “I love him.”
 
“Liar,” Yvette accused, taking Ondine’s face in her hands.  Ondine pulled her head away.  “We used to laugh at that boy’s letters.  They were pathetic.  Tell me for real, why are you marrying him?”
 
“You know why.  I’m not going to say it.”  Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke.  How could she say the forbidden words?
 
Yvette’s expression seemed to melt as she took her gloved hands.  Ondine’s impulse to flee subsided as her beautiful friend traced elegant fingers across her forearm.  She consoled, “Ah!  No, no, no!  Don’t cry, ma chère.  We don’t want your eyes all red and puffy as you greet your future husband.”  Yvette sought a tissue from her purse and dried her friend’s eyes.  “There.  You look more beautiful than ever.  I would be proud if you were my bride.”
 
Her bride?  What a ridiculous thing to say.  Yvette’s bride…
Champagne bubbles effervesced in her belly, rising up her chest until they burst as laughter from her throat.  She couldn’t contain the joy of being close to Yvette after weeks of estrangement and longing.  A smile grew across Yvette’s cheeks, her laughter bursting the tension in the church room.
 
“Clotilde did my hair.  Do you like it?” Ondine fished for a compliment, at ease after so long.
 
“Absolutely!  I always said you looked good with your hair up.  The flowers fixed into your bun are cute, too.  You’re going to match the church!”
 
Giddy now, Ondine danced over to the old sofa at the far end of the room and collapsed in her tight gown.   Yvette leaned in beside her, midnight black against pristine white.  It felt so good to giggle and chat, and simply feel comfortable with Yvette again.  “There’s something I have to tell you,” Ondine admitted as she gazed into her friend’s cheerful eyes.  Of course, she couldn’t say the words with Yvette looking right at her, so she leaned in close and whispered, “I can’t kiss Rejean without imagining you.  Isn’t that scandalous?”
 
For all her reluctance, now that she’d finally voiced her irreverent desires, they no longer seemed so devastating.  In fact, it seemed rather funny.  Ondine laughed.  They both did.
 
“Do you think I can ever be happy with Rejean?” she asked.
 
“I hope so, for your sake,” she sighed with seeming sincerity.  
Yvette spoke slowly into Ondine’s ear, allowing each word the weight it deserved.  “But if you want the absolute truth, I suspect you’d be more fulfilled with me as your lover.”
 
A new wave of desire bred goose bumps along Ondine’s bare arms.  Yvette sat so near to her, she could feel the intense heat radiating from that body cloaked all in black.  Their cheeks brushed as Yvette leaned back to look into her eyes.  Ondine knew she was about to get kissed.  She knew it and did nothing to prevent it.  She wanted that kiss.  Would it feel like she’d always imagined?  Soft and warm?  Slow and languorous?
 
Yvette placed a firm hand on Ondine’s cheek, holding her gaze until their eager mouths met.  As Yvette’s lips touched hers, glossy pink against deep crimson, heavy breaths escaped them both.  Ondine savoured their long-awaited first kiss, her frantic tongue swimming in the warm pool of Yvette’s mouth.  Her body was electrified.  

Particles of energy darted through her like shooting stars.  Never has she imagined women could kiss so heatedly, with such intensity.  Ondine wanted more.  She wanted everything.