Olive Oil and White Bread by Georgia Beers

Jillian had a few squat candles burning on each nightstand, the covers turned down, the pillows fluffed. Angie looked at her girlfriend and arched a brow in question.
    Jillian smiled. “You’ve been working so hard, I wanted to help you relax. So . . .” She held up a bottle, tipped it back and forth in her hand. “I bought some massage oil.”
    â€œOoo. I like the sound of that.”
    â€œThen get undressed and come over here.” Jillian injected a sexy undertone into her voice as she pointed to the bed. It was close to eight o’clock, and Angie had been home for only a half hour. Long enough to eat and grab a glass of wine. Jillian had plans for her woman tonight. It had been too long since they’d been together, and she was tired of waiting for Angie to make a move. She pointed to Boo’s bed in the corner, and the dog obediently curled up on it.
    Angie set her glass down and undressed while Jillian watched. Even after nearly six years together, Jillian was still in awe of her girlfriend’s body. Tall, bronzed even in the winter, rounded and curvy in all the right places. Angie hung up her suit and blouse, put her heels in the closet, then turned to stand before Jillian in her bra and underwear.
    â€œOh, no.” Jillian gestured with a finger. “All of it.”
    Angie grinned then removed the rest of her clothing until she stood completely naked.
    â€œMuch better.” Jillian stepped close to her, touched a finger to her throat, ran it all the way down the center of her torso to the thatch of dark hair at the apex of her thighs. “You are so beautiful, Angelina,” she whispered.
    Angie tilted her head down and their mouths met, then their tongues, hot and hungry. Jillian held tightly to Angie’s hips, slid her hands up Angie’s bare back, dug her fingers into the flesh at Angie’s shoulders. God, it felt like it had been so long, and she wanted nothing more than to turn their bodies, push Angie onto her back on the bed, and take what she wanted. She stopped herself, forced herself to slow down, to keep control. This night was supposed to be about Angie,about making her feel good, not about Jillian having her way—though she hoped that’s the direction things would end up going.
    She pulled away from the kiss, and took a step back from Angie. Waving an arm at the bed, she said, “Okay. Lie down on your stomach.”
    Angie blinked at her for a moment, all swollen lips and ragged breath. Then she smiled and complied, stretching out on the taupe sheets.
    Jillian surveyed the sight for a moment, admiring the gentle lines of Angie’s calves, her thighs, her rounded ass and hips, and that strong, strong back. There was something about the wide planes of Angie’s back and shoulders that turned Jillian on, and she told Angie so as she climbed onto the bed and straddled her, sitting lightly on Angie’s behind.
    â€œI’ve always wondered if I should try lifting weights,” Angie said. “Maybe that would develop the muscles more.”
    â€œI love them just the way they are,” Jillian responded as she poured massage oil into her hands and warmed it by rubbing them together. “They’re perfect, and I love them.” She punctuated her words by placing both palms in the middle of Angie’s back and sliding up, using her own weight as pressure.
    The groan that escaped Angie made all the effort Jillian put into the evening worthwhile.
    â€œFair warning,” Jillian said. “I’m sort of winging this massage thing.”
    â€œWing away,” Angie muttered, her face half in the pillow. “You’re doing just fine.” Jillian wrung another groan from her, then focused on Angie’s shoulders and arms. She used liberal amounts of the oil and found herself enjoying the process nearly as much as Angie seemed to be. Something about rubbing her oil-slicked hands over Angie’s smooth, warm