Touch Maria

A rush of euphoria swept through Lois. It was different from the pleasant haze of being drunk. Like the slow build toward orgasm, the gradual rise of excitement, and...Maria stood there, and Lois could see she felt it too. But she looked sad, so sad. So she reached out to touch her. Skin against skin. Her hand on her open arm.

The lights continued to intensify, and though Lois knew she should start to feel the burn from the lamps, it felt no more than being out on a summer's day...albeit naked.

Maria raised her arms, welcoming the light...and Lois could feel the tension in the woman's shoulders as she moved closer, sliding her hands over her back. Wrapping her arms around the barmaid's midriff, pressing her tits into that strong back, laying her head against her shoulder. And Maria was warm, so much warmer even than the burning lamps.

The light was almost blinding now, but Lois felt...alive, almost burning with excess energy. Even the tinge of pleasant alcoholic haze had vanished.

Lois' hands slipped lower—and Maria did not resist, as the shorter woman's fingers reached the cleft between her legs, inquisitive fingers spreading her lower lips...and Maria gasped.

"The...the light," Maria said, as Lois' fingers played at her slit. "They always start with the white light. To prepare us for what comes next..."

The reporter pressed her lips against the other woman's neck, tasting the skin. Warm and clean beneath her lips, and Lois' fingers stroked lightly against her cleft, feeling a dribble of wetness on her fingertips.

"What comes next?" Lois said, hugging Maria closer.

"The light...changes." She whispered. "And we change with it." Maria raised her hands over and behind her head, to grasp Lois' head and press it into her neck. "The worst part is...it feels so good."

Lois heard a noise, and looked up—to see a small metal arm directly overhead, with a spherical dome attached. The bottom half of the dome split and retracted.

For a moment the room went red.