…Better to take a chance. To break the rules and make better rules.

“I...Ok. Let’s change the world...” Her smile widens, filling her face and setting sparkles in her eyes.

“Welcome to the crew Tina!” Her hands move to your neck and she leans in, planting her lips on yours in a friendly kiss. Your eyes widen with shock at the gesture. They’re so soft! Her nose rubs against the side of your own. Seconds lengthen, locked together, and her eyes look into yours, sky blue rings around deep darkness that a twinkle with hope and unknown promises. Your brows come together in confusion, and against your very nature, you feel your lips drift into a half open state against hers. All the while, her eyes drink in your face hungrily, her own brows raised with new and intrigued understanding. Her lips break from yours. No smile plays across them.

What was that? You think back to the playful pecks of your childhood. They weren’t the same as what just happened and were rarely a touching of lips; even when they were, some undefinable **** separates them in your mind. Was it something she did? Some skill she has? A kind of energy? You look at her in confusion, wanting an explanation. She tilts you head to the side and kisses you again, lighting lips teasing your shocked mouth open, her warm tongue pushing inside to give life to your own. Warmth and wetness and breath and energy fly between you through the conduit of locked lips and dancing tongues. Your eyes close against the storm and you feel her soft hair in your hands as you hold on to the ever changing ballet of chaos that somehow comes so naturally.

The connection breaks for a moment, like coming out of a deep dive to air that will never know you like the water will; never want you as much as you want to drown back in the crushing embrace. Your faces are so close and you’re panting breaths mix and match in the short space between you. Her hands aren’t on your head anymore and you feel yours be pulled away from hers by a pressure on your elbows. You let them drop, missing the golden softness but being guided by the older woman. Your jacket top slides over your hands and hits the floor, baring you meagre breasts before hers, small lumps before perfect mounds. Your eyes half open to drink in the sight of her, her open mouth, her smeared lipstick. Your cooked mind wonders what happened, what you’re feeling. Her lips press against yours once more and you wonder how many men have passed between them, be it by tongue or by rod, but the tide returns to wash over your mind with a sea or raw passion and you realise that you don’t care, not now, not while your tongue is among them. You feel your hands return to her lower back as hers move to your hips. Your eyes close once more and the world fades away, leaving the feeling of her as the only thing that matters. Your fingers slide up her back as you unconsciously pull her towards you. Hers slide down, the band of your shorts slipping over your rear, the material dropping to the floor. Her hands take their place, grabbing both of your rear cheeks perfectly, as though the gods had made them small for this very purpose, lifting you onto your toes as the taller woman straightens. Your naked body presses against hers, passing the energy between your skin as well as your lips.

You feel tangled; in mind, in body, in soul. A perfect moment of passion that you didn’t think the universe capable of. The world shifts and turns around, utterly irrelevant compared to the woman pressing against you, and as the room flips onto its side, a soft bed greats your back. You kick off your shoes automatically, crawling backwards up the bed as she presses her freely given advantage. Soft white pillows rise and fall on each side of your head like snowy hills. They make a dark valley from which you look up at a welcome sun. She’s so beautiful, somehow, even though you are both women. Her tongue pushes deep and you return the favour, reaching your hands up to touch her dangling breasts. It all seems so natural, like a secret the universe is slowly revealing to you. The necklace around her neck rests between your breasts, as though everything you came to take is now given freely, and you hear the sound of the door closing, caring about neither. Her hands touch your face before they travel down your body. She revels in the gasping you make when they go over your breasts, and she swallows the noise you make when her fingers tweak your nipples. She smiles and moves her hands to either side of you and stops her kissing. You immediately miss both, looking up in hazy confusion. She plants a kiss on your lips, like the first time. It’s brief and comfortable, like the visit of a familiar friend, and as your eyes beg for more, her smile widens, so much so that she struggles to control it before kissing your cheek.

You watch as her kisses travel down your body, over your neck and collar and chest. You gasp and yelp with pleasure when she reaches her destination, kissing you directly on your hard right nipple. Your face is red, first with exhaustion but now with twinges of embarrassed uncertainty. Laying on your back has flattened your chest more than normal. Should you tell her? You have more to give, usually. She kisses it again, heaver and longer, uncaring and accepting. Her lips suck at the sensitive skin, tongue darting, and a soft, breathless cry escapes your own mouth. You look down at her, head resting on your chest and mouth suckling at you like a babe, reaching up to stroke her head on instinct. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles a smile that sets your heart aflame; surely she can hear its pounding rhythm where she is. She kisses you again and you wonder if she can hear its beat go faster.

Her tongue runs a brief circle around the base of your nipple and you tip your head back against the pillows, driven by the new feeling of pleasure that leaves you panting. A kiss at the base of your breast signals her continued journey down your body and you wonder, with hazy thought, where she is going. A kiss lands on your belly button, giving the hole the smallest slip of her tongue and the slightest suck of her lips before moving away. You feel hands slide down your legs and give a loud gasp when the next kiss lands on your womanhood.

Your eyes snap open and you look down at her, seeing two eyes looking back over the curls of your pubic hair. You’re briefly torn; one side babbling that she is looking right at your most private place and doing unnatural things, the other begging for the return of her lips. She shouldn’t be down there! Her eyes looks down at your flower before flicking up to look right into your eyes. You can’t see her mouth, but you can tell she is smiling at what she see’s, some secret she knows. You grip the sheets when she kisses you again, her soft red lips on your sensitive button. Like the prelude on your nipple, the kiss is harder and longer and deeper than before, with a sucking pressure when she pulls away that drags a cry from your lips that you have never heard yourself make before. The moan, the animal noise, bursts out again when the lips of her mouth meet the lips of your womanhood once more, strangling to a stop when her tongue darts out to circle your sensitive nub. Unlike with your nipple, this doesn’t stop. You pant in gasping breaths as her hot wet tongue explores you. It’s better than anything you have ever felt before. A kiss of upmost intimacy.

Sweat soaks your brow and rapidly forms on your body as it shivers and tenses. The cream coloured sheets feel wet under your hands. Her tongue slides over a magic spot that sends waves of heat up your body to cascade out your mouth in unintelligible moans. She enters you, spreads you, flicks and teases you, sucks you, pushes you, breaths you. You live her, her tongue becoming your world, its movement your worship. You cry out in praise, beg for the unknown, hope it never ends. The bobbing sun of golden hair lies between your legs, her hands pushing them wider as her lapping mouth digs deeper. Her eye’s drink you in, drawing satisfaction from your expression of helpless ecstasy and ever increasing throws of pleasure. All the passion she poured into your mouth, all the dexterity and control, is magnified between your willingly spread legs. You ride the feeling like a ship rides a storm, barely holding on to your place in the world as minutes stretch into time without measurement. Your moans turn to cry’s turn to screams that cut through the walls more than hers ever did as a rushing explosion of energy is ignited by the tip of her tongue. It hits you hard and spreads like a crushing cool fire that burns outwards like nothing you have ever felt before. Your legs kick and twitch, your breathing stops, your back arches and you see stars.

Her hands hold your hips pinned as she continues her work to draw the feeling out, stretching it beyond the horizons of your mind. The slick, wet sounds of her efforts tease the furthest reaches of your consciousness, guiding it back down from the heavens in great heaving breaths. You return to a world in which she has stopped, her chin resting on the hairs above her newest conquest and her eyes watching you with contentment. The broken parts of your mind start to pool together as you struggle to process the situation. You’re wet. Not just between your legs, though your womanhood is soaked to its core, but all over. Sweat rolls off your face and breasts alike and the beads that gather on your skin don’t remain for long, shaken loose thanks to your deep gulps of the humid, sticky air.

She craws up the bed towards you, slowly, smiling, stopping only to wipe the wetness from around her mouth. She lies down next to you, brushing the wet hairs off your forehead that managed to get free of your tight bun. Her strong thigh rests on your powerless legs, stroking them and hooking them with a foot, casually pulling them back together as she looks at you. Her lipstick is almost completely gone, with only a red haze around her mouth to remember it, and the gold hair that framed her face is now dark with wetness, especially about her jaw, clinging to her face in streaks and wiping the blush from her cheeks. Her smile reaches her eye’s, sending cracks of age through their edges that her makeup cannot hide. She’s beautiful. The most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Her vivid eyes dance between yours, conveying an understanding that you have never seen before. This woman knows more about you than you do. You should find that frightening. It’s exhilarating. She kisses you again, a signature an artist gives there masterpiece. It’s deep and passionate but slower than before and holds a flavour that you have never tasted: the taste of you; the taste of a woman.

Its intoxicating, everything about her is. With deliberate slowness, her tongue leaves your mouth and her kiss dissolves into playful pecks of your lips and mouth. She slowly pulls back to lie next to you, drawing your eyes and head around to follow her. You both lie on the beds crumpled sheets, naked and looking at each other with heads so close that your noses almost touch. You feel exhausted, which is strange considering you just lay there. It’s a bone deep feeling you have never felt before. Not if you ran the length of the island a hundred times could you come close.

“What?...What was that?” you whisper. You have to know. Something so unexpected, so revolutionary... The puzzle of your existence has just gained a new peace and you want to know everything about it.

“Shhhh” she responds, placing a hand on your face. It’s warm, like everything about her, and sends shivers across your skin.

A strange hesitation runs through you when you know what you need to do; a resistance that you understand as little as the needs itself. You lean over and kiss her, a poor, hesitant gesture that lacks any of her skill, clumsy in it rushed nervousness. Your weak hand lands on her hip as you break your kiss away from her mouth and move it to her jaw and neck, ready to chart the same path down that she herself showed you. Your hand slips down to your destination, the tip of your index finger unthinkingly entering her for the merest moment. The fingers of her hand lock between yours, pulling them away and up to rest on the bed between you. You stop your inelegant kisses to look back at her resting face, smiling once more, looking...grateful.

“Shhhh”, she says again, “Get some rest.” She manoeuvres your arm, turning you away from her but still holding your hand as she wraps her arm around you. You feel her body press against your back, her breasts compressing against your shoulder blades, the front of her hips cupping the back of your own. She breaths into your neck, a comfortable reminder of your closeness. Sleep comes to claim you quickly but your mind still works to process what happened. She didn’t want you to... but that’s ok. You remember what she had been through before...you. You kissed her. Not her kissing you, but you kissing her. That means something. You feel her hips rub against your bottom. Were you really going to do it? Yes, you were. But why? Because you wanted to. But what does that make you? Happy.

Your final thoughts before sleep ask what the future hold? You feel her heart beat against you. Hopefully more of this.

You open your eyes to the dim orange light of a sun struggling to rise. The bed is empty, save for yourself, and while even the early morning was promising another hot day, you feel cold without her resting against you. The room is devoid of life and in much the same state as it was last night save for a pitcher of water and a tin mug on the table next to the bed. Feeling very thirsty, you pour yourself some of the clear liquid and quickly drink it down. It’s lukewarm, but it’s refreshing and counters your dehydration quite well; you lost a lot of your body’s liquid when she...

You smile, you can’t help it. The memory is like the warm light of the sun on your soul. Footsteps and other soft sounds come from behind the closed door of the bathroom where you got the ointment. If you knew then what you know now, its application could have been very… different. You bite your lower lip at the thought.

You’re still naked, of course. Your pale body sprawled out on the sheets; same pink nipples and flat mounds, same gangly arms and skinny legs, same black bush. Somehow you though you would look different, as transformed outside as you feel inside. You stop your consideration when you see the leather strip around your thigh. Your feel a cold shiver when you remember what was in it. The Stiletto was missing, removed by your lover sometime during last night’s activities. That’s not as much of a problem as any female pirate would be mad not to carry some kind of blade. It was the missing vial of poison that was more incriminating. You look around the room, putting the tin mug next to the pitch-

You look at the pitcher. The vial is right next to it.

You snatch it up and look at it, peering into its contents. A mountain of relief crashed down on you. It’s still full. The bathroom door opens and Captain Wendy ‘Go’ Washkin walks into the room; thief, murderer, freedom fighter and now... your lover? You quickly hide the poison in your fist. She smiles at you as she walks to the end of the bed. You can’t help but smile back.

She’s fully dressed, back in her fine clothing and fixed makeup, boots on and sword strapped to her hip, looking every bit the pirate captain of her reputation. You feel exposed, embarrassed by your nakedness. You have to remind yourself that this woman has seen everything you could be embarrassed by, and some of it very closely. She leans against the bedpost, her gaze flicking between your eyes, your body, the bedside table, your closed hand, your nervous expression.

“I knew, just so you know. From the moment you started talking.” Your heart beats faster as you grip the vial. She looks at your hand again, “I couldn’t be fully sure until I found it.” You try to explain but struggle to.

“I never...I mean I won’t...” This isn’t a situation you ever thought you would be in.

“I know” she says with a sad smile. She walks around the bed and gently sits next to you. You sit up, wondering what she has planned. You still haven’t found your dagger. Could you even defend yourself if you did? She smiles again, deep and mischievous. It’s the smile you could sense when she was between your legs, when she knew exactly what was going to happen. Her hand cups your fine featured face with a warmth that goes far beyond simple temperature. She leans in close and whispers conspiratorially,

“...after all; no one can cum that hard and still bear a grudge. Right, sweetlips?” You blush. Which lips is she referring to? Your blush deepens.

Her wicked grin slips into a more serious one. “You got all the way to me without alerting anyone, you’re going to tell me how.” You open your mouth to do just that but her thumb slides over your lips with a smile, “Pick some of my cloths and get dressed. Red and white, remember. I’m going to meet with some people I should have met with last night. When I get back...”, her eye’s wonder down your body and promise enough to send shivers running though you, “Well, let’s just say, there’s a plan I want to go over with you...”

You remember cleaning yourself up. Washing off the mess of the night before. How every time you looked in the bathroom mirror, you and your reflection went bright red, smiling, embarrassed at the memory. You remember dressing in her clothes, all far too loose on you. Choosing through rich silks, and things you would never wear, like panties and short skirts. Eventually settling on some embroidered red shorts and a baggy white shirt. You remember telling her of last night’s adventure when she got back. She was a good audience, patient and understanding, asking questions where appropriate.

You smile as you remember your surprise: she really did have a plan to go over and wanted your input. The first of many such occasions. Your smile deepens as you remember enacting your own plan after: the task you were too tired to perform the night before. Also the first of many such occasions. The smile slips as you remember how salty her kisses were -the same taste then as they were last night- and only now do you know what that bitterness meant; what service she had recently done for a man.

Has it really been only a month and a half? The sea air swirls through your loose hair as you travel eastward and you take a deep breath to calm your nerves. Your plans work and she knows it, knew it well before you believed it. The plan to attack the convoy you overheard on that night was coming into full effect. The meeting between Roland and Wendy beforehand had been brief, with the one scheduled for tonight set to be the long one. You look through the spy glass at the two grounded ships. Your plan worked, grounding them closer to the shore had most men aboard jumping over the side and swimming for the land. Fewer and fewer needless deaths. It was hardly a good and honourable life your living, yet the world was better for it being lived this way. You remember last night, the new move she showed you, the tangle of legs, the rubbing, like a hot wet kiss of its own. Your smile returns. You’re also better for living your life this way. Happier than you have been in years.

You check the ships again through the glass. More men are jumping overboard and your smile quickly deepens. Roland’s unfortunate **** tonight just got a lot of useful scapegoats. Everything falls into place as you predicted. Roland’s borders and breakers climb up there grappling hooks, facing little resistance on the fat bellied cargo ships. Thanks to your suggestion, your lover also spread some misinformation about what your plans were, convincing the merchant lords and the navy high command that you’re much further south than you are. You look at the woman standing next to you, spyglass of her own pressed against her eye. How do you tell her? When do you tell her?

“Exciting times” she says before lowering the finely crafted instrument and turning to you. As your eyes meet, you realise you don’t need to. She already knows. She feels it too. You both hold hands, ready to change the world, together.