Skittish Fillies

Recalling sexual sureness flashes Ruby and Coral into my mind.

On a Saturday afternoon, two girls, a chess set, and the garden behind Il Piacere. My ego compelled me to stay involved. I chose Coral, even if she chose Ruby. Despite the obvious — her prosciutto creation — I hoped my bestie would hesitate.

I hurried into Ruby's private garden, entering its high-hedged opening. The water in the jug on the tray I carried sloshed. The space spread far-reaching yet narrow along the sides. A citrus smell hit my nostrils as I scanned the terraced beds, discrete and stylish. I enjoyed the vibrant yellow and green of the potted lemons and limes—rounded and manicured shrubs in large terracotta tubs. Ruby's dad lavished money polished by his green thumb.

A formal shrubby display led my eye deeper. I ignored the lush vegetable garden to my right. Instead, I noticed Ruby and Coral positioned at opposite ends of the outdoor chess set. Behind the girls in the shadows, the pergola. A classy structure covered in twisting and hanging vines.

Though I winced, cutting into their scene and moved to the chess set. Coral acknowledged my presence, not my forlorn look. I swayed from foot to foot, clutching the tray, pitcher of water and three glasses, sliding backwards and forwards.

"Put it in the pergola."

An initial kind direction, followed by, "And stay there," snapped Ruby.

I trundled to the pergola. I glanced as the brunette lifted her black knight over her pieces and into her first attacking position—game on and not involving me.

After setting the glasses and water in the shade next to the platter, I returned to the chess. Coral mirrored Ruby's move, swinging her white knight. Ruby clasped her bishop double-handed, ready to strike, but she halted.

Her focus veered to Coral, and she unloaded on her, "Oh, for goodness' sake!"

Ruby rubbed her bishop's mitre.

"Fix your frickin' hair!"

The brunette carried her bishop on its diagonal path.

"I can't," Coral protested, getting her bishop out, "Too much hair spray."

"Moorey — get the water," and the minx on a mission meant it.

I raced to the pergola for the pitcher.

Meantime, Coral said to the brunette, "Try an original move, Rubes. I'm looking in the mirror when I contemplate this board."

"Missy, you started. You're the one not offering anything original here. What a let-down after your kitchen offering!" exclaimed Ruby.

Then she gave Coral an elegant flicker of her eyelashes as I returned, gripping the pitcher—standing mute. Empty of ideas as to why Ruby ordered me to fetch it. I forgot the glasses and fretted as I anticipated Ruby's whiplash if she desired the tumblers!

"Give it to her. I don't need it."

Ruby adjusted her beret.

The tilted angle added a sexy touch. I transferred the jug to Coral, which she clutched, puzzled.

"Over your hair, darling, over your hair. Loosen it like your morals," Ruby said, acting out a charade-pouring motion.

Coral cracked, "I'm disappointed! You're out of ideas. What—a wet t-shirt repeat? Hell, girl, you ain't getting nothing more today. Such a lazy effort."

"No, your hair. Do I need to do it myself?"

Ruby zagged through the chess pieces to Coral and said, "Please, let's get your hair right."

"Oh," Coral, open-mouthed, proffering Ruby the pitcher.

The brunette removed the lilac hair tie holding Coral's stiff ponytail. She cupped her hand behind her girlfriend's head and bent it forward. Next, she poured the water over Coral's hair, loosening her tresses. Finally, Ruby saved enough water to rinse her girlfriend's locks. Her fingers guided the Californian poppy mane to return to nature. Her hair, massed, damp and lank, scarcely Coral.

"Shake it, shake it," Ruby implored.

The golden girl gave her head a swinging rocking churn. It amazed me how Coral's curly locks regained their oomph. Droplets of water sprinkled, flecked, and dissipated as her kinked coiffure greeted the afternoon. Her hair glistened, sure of its pre-eminent place under the sun.

Satisfied and admiring her handiwork, Ruby thrust the empty jug into my chest. Then, after cavorting, she moseyed behind her black pieces. Coral bent, gathered her lilac hair tie, and wound it around her wrist. I perched on the side bench, the pitcher between my feet.

As the game began, I realised the setting framed their foreplay combat—a stunning garden for a gorgeous girl in lilac. She shook her golden hair drier as Ruby removed and tossed her beret aside. The brunette adjusted her fine chocolate hair into her regular high, perfect ponytail.

An art association occurred to me as I fancied myself inside Bosch's, The Garden of Earthly Delights. Well, minus the nudity. Bosch was a brilliant painter of female bottoms. Any sex you can think of has an amorous inclusion in his central panel. The eye is free to wander. No clothes anywhere. Every viewer gets a flash into their lusts, yearnings or loves and gets to go 'Aah.'

My favourite part persists as the two lesbians in a water pool. Each woman has long fair hair, pert breasts and a lithe, youthful body—a hand around each other's waist. One gazes at the spectator, the other at her partner. But it's their other arm that I find most captivating. One at an open V angle, her palm exposed. Her lover holds her wrist. They embrace a love dance, not a salacious exchange. Sweethearts pooled; soft, sure, and steady — unlike the fixations of the two skittish fillies playing chess shorn of smooth or stable. However, the parameters of their engagement suggested being classic and refined. The potted cypress trees created a serene display and focus points of calm. The giant chess pieces were sleek, stylish, Florentine-themed, darker, and lighter timber sets. Their polish referenced poise.

Likewise, the black-and-white marble squares beneath the girls stated balance. Yet, I watched two girlfriends' intent on unbalancing the others' emotions in their favour.

Ruby paced, deciding her strategy. She mirrored Coral's fingers near her queen. The brunette instead firmed her hands on her hips.

She unleashed: "Honey, you sustained the advantage yesterday and got me good in the kitchen today. I loved your design! I can't wait to peep at and get tactile with the original; however—let's play!"

She eased her hands around her queen's neck, ready to advance it into the centre of the board. The brunette paused.

I glanced at Ruby, the hustler of immediate advantage.

I gazed at Coral, the dedicated planner.

To be a pair, an insight detonated; this required a joint rescind of control by both girls.

Next, and I failed to expect it, a typical impish Ruby altering the rules of play.

"Sweetie, it's time to up the ante. Let's play strip chess—an item of clothing per lost piece. You like a challenge. Here it is!"

Coral answered, "I don't think you are serious, not at home!"

Ruby countered, "Here or anywhere, here is now, and now is good."

"Fine," said a confident Coral, "and I can't wait for your parents to catch you sporting your birthday suit."

Coral giggled, "Especially, sweet me clothed and you without a stitch."

"Pet, the kitchen is mummy's domain. She will socialise the afternoon away. My father," she scuffed her sandals and spat in the bushes, "is at golf. It's you and me."

Ruby craved Coral 'in her altogether'; it outweighed the personal risk.

"What about Luke?"

At least Coral stayed aware of my presence.

"What about your puppy?" Ruby rejoined.

Then she teased, "Oh, he likes to watch, and as he's already memorised your cute boobs and more in the boathouse, there's nothing new here for him to see."

"I'll go if you want," I directed to my bestie.

My foot knocked the empty water pitcher over as I realised Coral had disclosed to her girlfriend on our nookie.

"No, stay, you scamp! Watch Goldilocks get bare," the minx, light and carefree.