Disclaimer

This story was written without the knowledge or consent of MCA/Universal and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights. This story is for intended for mature readers over the age of 18 as it contains both violence and explicit love scenes between two women. If you are offended by either, or both, of these subjects I suggest you don't read any further.

This story is the work of the author and is protected by copyright. Please gain permission before copying and/or publishing any or all of this story.

Two women, one tall, dark with fair skin and the other small compact, blonde with tan features, approached the beach. It didn't look as if anyone had been around in forever. The sea breeze, gentle and laden with salts, blew in gently over the sound of the surf. Melinda Pappas, southern gentlewoman and part time liguist, unfolded and smoothed a blanket over the rippled sand. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue, and the sun warmed air brushed their skin as they settled on the blanket side by side to chat and watch the surf.

Janice Covington, moved a bag from her shoulder to the sand, shifting it to make sure it remained upright. Reaching in she lifted out a small squeeze bottle of oil. "Don't want you to burn," she said quietly. "Go ahead, lie down."

Melinda nodded slightly and turned around, lying on her stomach on the blanket. Her long legs splayed out and the shorts she wore left little to Janice's imagination, as the blonde enjoyed the view of slender legs and muscular thighs. Dusting her hands free of sand grains, Janice rose to her knees on Melinda's right side, and squeezed a measure of the oil into her palm; the funny squirting sound as the first dollop spurted onto the smaller woman's fingers made both women smile and laugh lightly. She set the oil bottle between her knees and began rubbing her fingers and palms together, warming the liquid.

Melinda glanced at Janice, her head lolling on her crossed hands, and Janice smiled back as her hands lowered to Melinda's calves. In long even strokes she applied the oil coating from knee to ankle on both legs. Deep circular strokes followed, encouraging Melinda's skin to absorb the lotion. A seagull shrieked overhead as Melinda closed her eyes getting used to Janice's firm touch.

There was only the gentle caress of the breeze, the droning sound of the pounding surf, and the feel of Janice's broad hands rooting out the slightest tension in Melinda's calves. She hadn't imagined such pleasure when Janice suggested they go down to the coastal town for a weekend. "Research," she'd said. Well they had done that, tracing some genealogy for Xena and Gabrielle to the Plymouth colony. The small library held birth and death records of all the original colonists and marriage records as well. Then, as the late afternoon sun inched through the high windows, Janice had paused in her reading, studied Melinda quietly for a long moment and suggested they come down here, to the Mayflower's original mooring site, now a quiet inlet beach, and watch the end of the day arrive. Tired, and with an ache in her back from sitting and bending so much, Melinda had been grateful to the blonde woman for the suggestion. So they had retreated to their hotel and quickly changed for the ! balmy spring evening.

Janice felt the tension leaving Melinda's feet and ankles and wondered what the raven-haired Southerner was thinking. She finished the stroke up the back of Melinda's knees, and smiled unseen as she entertained more erotic thoughts of the leggy brunette under her touch. She could feel every muscle contour as she delivered circular motions and deeply massaged her way up to Melinda's buttocks. She stopped her hands from their incredible desire to pull aside the fabric of the shorts. She had no idea about that, Jan, she scolded herself. Best keep it that way until you get other indications.

Pausing, she kept one hand on the small of Melinda's back. At least she wore a backless shirt, the blonde archaeologist thought, allowing a moment of lust to rule her as she refreshed the oil in her hands.

She returned her hands to Melinda muscled spine, thumbs aligned on either side. The other fingers of her hands she splayed out, her middle fingers reaching easily the indentation marking the curve of Melinda's pelvis. God she's so thin. Firmly she rotated her thumbs against the gently curving spine and steepled her fingers against Melinda's bottom-most ribs. With gentle pressure, she slid her fingers from the bones themselves, to the spaces between, identifying and massaging the thin layers of tendons and muscles that support the ribcage.

Her fingers neared the catch that held the top across Melinda's back. Pausing only a guilty moment before undoing it, she slid each shoulder strap slowly down the brunette's arms. Having to lean forward, Janice found her hair trailing across Melinda's soft skin and her mouth only a kiss away from the muscles that suddenly shifted. Restraint is a virtue, she repeated to herself, unaware of what her breath was doing to Melinda.

But the motion of the brunette served to remind Janice that shoulders too, needed attention. With broad circular strokes she completed the massage of Melinda's back and moved her hands over the angular shoulder blades. She worked her way across the flat expanse carefully, and finally rested her hands on the back of Melinda's neck, feeling the nape hair twine around her fingers.

Her fingers sifted through the lower few inches of Melinda's hair and swept it aside, baring the long neck. Carefully, she used long vertical strokes and kept her fingers away from the sensitive juncture of spine and head, working instead to either side. She rotated Melinda's head in her hands, as her fingers passed over the carotid artery, improving the blood flow. Melinda began turning her head, and Janice realized she was reacting to feeling lightheaded.

She brushed her hand against the high cheekbone and whispered, "It's just the effect of the massage. It'll pass." Melinda relaxed and Janice's fingers traced over the outline of her cheek and temple, and under the brunette's cheek before returning to the muscles at the juncture of Melinda's neck and shoulders. The Southerner gave up an involuntary groan of pleasure, bringing another smile to Janice's lips.

She used firm deep circular strokes, letting Melinda experience the tingling in her fingers from the nerves being relieved of pressure. Her hands moved only inches at a time down the long arms, bringing up the circulation by degrees, until she could see Melinda slowly move her fingers to ward off the tingle. Gently she grasped each of Melinda's hands in one of her own, rubbing oil into the skin with small circular motions against the tendons and muscles. The brunette groaned again, lower this time, increasing Janice's heart pounding.

Janice noticed Melinda's eyes drifting shut, and repeated attempts to open them were unsuccessful. The sun's warmth and the oil have lulled her almost to sleep. "Where are you drifting," Janice called softly. "Time for the other side."

Melinda opened her eyes and realized that was only the first half of the massage. Limbs like gelatin, she gradually found her way onto her back. She reached for her top that fell away from her breasts as she left the blanket. Janice's hand over hers stopped the motion. Looking up at the green eyes glowing in the sunset's last rays, she gave over to the reasonable, "No one will see." She laid back and watched Janice reapply oil to her hands. The motion of the glistening fluid over the blonde's hands stirred a feeling deep in the brunette's stomach.

She held her breath as Janice's hands reached for her. Their eyes locked, and Melinda released the breath slowly as the small hands reached not for her shoulders, but for her forehead, where they met and began stroking away at the tension.

Janice's hands moved a millimeter at a time, bringing her fingers closer and closer to her hairline. The final stroke traced through the first few hairs, reaching the joint at the top of Melinda's jaw. She'd never felt this incredible combination of mental anxiety and physical relaxation before. And to escape it she closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to calm and even.

Janice's fingers moved to the bridge of Melinda's nose, and duplicated the long stroke there, from bridge to cheekbone over and over again, until the final stroke was once again, to the joint at the top of her jaw.

Gently Janice slid her hands down Melinda's throat, admiring the smooth muscle and the light indentation at the base where her clavicle rose and fell with her breathing. She met Melinda's blue eyes when she moved her fingers away to apply more oil to her hands.

She returned her hands to Melinda's collarbone, their gazes never breaking, and followed the line of the bone out to where it met the shoulder, over and over again, with long even strokes. Finally her hands had slipped below the bone and now rested on the swells of Melinda's breasts. She coated her hands with more oil, aware that the gently rising and falling globes had seen very little of the sun's kisses, if ever. She moved her hands over every portion of them, coating them with the protective oil. If her breathing was a bit shallow, or her desire fidgeted for a look at her hands instead of Melinda's slowly closing eyes, she was at least attentive to the soft skin, massaging all the way over the sides and up into the armpits.

Her hands were not long at the task, but it seemed to take forever as their gazes danced together in the dying light. Finally Janice brought her hands together under Melinda's breasts. She carefully fit her fingers to the spaces between the brunette's ribs and worked the muscles there. Her thumbs skated over the taut stomach muscles and she felt them  twitch. Ticklish, she thought. I'd better be careful.

Using only her palms, she worked on the muscles in Melinda's abdomen, offering even pressure until her hands reached the very beginning of her pelvis, and then flattened her fingers to work down to the tops of Melinda's thighs. Digging skillfully she prodded the thick sinewy muscle into relaxing.

She worked into the crevices of the muscles, awakening the blood flow, bringing a healthy pink to the skin. Working her way down to the kneecaps she reapplied oil and worked lower still on Melinda's shinbones.

Janice settled herself back on her own ankles and lifted Melinda's foot onto her lap, working a deep massage through the tendons, muscles and bone, until the ankle lay limp in her cupped palm. She repeated her actions on the right foot.

Lengthening her strokes again, she worked her touch back up to Melinda's thighs and studied the sleeping face, caught in the ghostly light of dusk.

Bending forward, she gently placed a kiss on the center of Melinda's forehead. Her lips picked up the warmth of Melinda's skin, as they brushed over, dry and barely more intrusive than a pleasant breeze.

A seagull shrieked overhead and Janice realized the surf was close now. But she couldn't bear disturbing Melinda and so, for a few minutes, let her sleep, as she kept watch. Then gently she rubbed the bare shoulder and held out Melinda's top. "Time to go."

Melinda opened her eyes, a bit startled and disoriented. "Maybe when you're ready for more, I'll give you another massage," Janice answered the unspoken question. "For now, I hope you enjoyed yourself."