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Margo would never let her in. She would never willingly put aside her pride like that. And besides, Eve liked it better to creep, prying and pressing so by the time Margo was even aware of her presence, she was undeniable. Persuading the doorman to override Margo’s demands had been even easier than she’d thought and now all she could do was bear the interminable elevator ride up to the penthouse, and hope that Margo left her spare key in the same place she always had. The elevator operator let her off with a smile, and in her tremulous agitation, Eve couldn’t hold back a glower at the man.
She stepped into the hall and turned to the small decorative table next to the elevator door, a small vase of flowers and a bowl of potpourri lending the hallway its devastatingly familiar fragrance. She was breathless, her fingers jumpy and uncoordinated as she sifted through the dried petals and leaves to find, a thrill jolting from her stomach through her legs, the small brass key at the bottom. She wiped her hands on her skirt and brought the key to her nose, the smell of metal overpowered by the pungent, bitter, musky perfume that clung to the object and her hands. She wanted to put it in her mouth, she wanted to swallow it down. Her mouth was dry as she moved toward Margo’s door.
She fumbled with the lock, her hands trembling with urgency to get inside. She would claw the door down with her bare nails if it would get her in faster. The click and give of the lock sent chills up her arms, and she rushed in, letting the door make noise. Surely it would not be long until Margo heard something and came down from her room. Bill was back in Hollywood and Birdie was visiting her family, and Margo was completely alone with only her in the flat. She knocked frames cockeyed on the wall and poured herself a glass of sherry from the decanter by the staircase, letting it turn her blood warm and syrupy.
When Margo came down and saw her, intruding into her home and violating her belongings, Eve imagined she might scold her, or shove her out the door, or bash her head into the mirror -- she sought any reaction at all.
She fingered through the ashtray on the small table and pulled out a half-finished cigarette, wrapping her lips carefully around the butt where Margo had left her deep red lipstick stains. She lit it and took a long, deep pull. It tasted how Margo smelled, how she imagined her tongue would taste. Margo’s air in her lungs, and she held it there til her chest burned; she inhaled again, the hot acrid smoke scalding her insides, her stomach rolling with nausea. She clenched her thighs to relish the queasy heat building heavy there. Her heart raced in her ears as she pressed a hand to herself through her skirt. Did Margo also have this unbearable, constant need gnawing away at her?
Had Margo been thinking of her all these months? Had she too felt like there was something irrevocably missing, some strange disquieting emptiness?
She wandered into the living room, searching, as she always was, for things to take and things to destroy. She dragged the needle across the record on the Victrola: Liszt, Margo’s favorite. Then she spotted, out of the corner of her eye, a tube of lipstick on the coffee table. She sat down on the sofa and opened it. It was used; she shivered. She smeared the deep scarlet pigment across her mouth, imagining that she could feel Margo’s spit on her lips, that she could taste Margo in the waxy paste. She wanted to bite it. Instead she pressed her sticky mouth to the white sofa cushion, her lip imprint bloody against the upholstery, a permanent stain on Margo’s cherished domestic facade.
And as she walked back to the stairs, Eve had half-heartedly hoped that when Margo came down she would be overcome, remorseful and ravenous. Purely a fantasy -- Margo would never -- and Eve knew it. It was easier to hope for that than to face the reality that it was she who was crawling back, like a kicked dog, like a foolish child.
A sudden sharp gasp shattered her hazy daydreaming as Margo froze on the second floor landing, and Eve’s giddy anticipation finally overflowed in a climax that seemed to burst straight through her chest with a harsh cackle at her alarm. Eve quickly tried to swallow down the giggles that kept bubbling up from her throat and regain her composure. Margo’s eyes were wide, and she could feel her cheeks warming with embarrassment.
“Christ! You little rat, how did you get in here.” Margo said, trying to tamp down the shock in her voice. Eve dangled the key out, smiling sweetly.
“Of all things, I hadn’t figured you for breaking and entering, Eve.”
Margo steeled herself against the banister, and Eve watched her dove silk robe fall off her shoulder as she shifted angrily on her feet. She was radiant, of course, falling seamlessly into performance: pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it languidly. Eve remembered the near-hopeless desire she felt every night watching Margo on stage from the back of the house. She had to look all the way up to see her, and even with straining her neck she couldn’t make out the expression on Margo’s face. But the feeling of furious, remote eyes bearing down on her, Margo towering over her provoked a foolish, loathsome reverence she couldn’t help.
Eve widened her eyes. “Oh dear! I’m a little muddled… Didn’t you say once that your home was my home and I could let myself in whenever I pleased? Surely you don’t think I would ever do something so frightful as break in.”
She couldn’t quite make out the expression on Margo’s face, but hearing her sigh and continue on with her lecture had Eve frustrated. Play my game, not yours.
“I’m always so charitable to you, and you continue to demonstrate the pathetic depths of your depravity.” As she spoke, she held her hand beyond the handrail and flicked the ash from her cigarette. They both watched it sail down and land softly at the carpet in front of Eve’s feet. Eve bore into it with her shoe, grinding the powder down into the carpet fibers.
Margo’s sharp inhale sent a shiver through her. Yes, maybe she would play Margo’s game.
“What do you want? What are you doing here? I thought you were a Hollywood stable pony now. Oscar buzz to boot” Margo turned cool, rigid and restrained.
“Margo-”
“I’ve had enough hearing about you from everyone but yourself, Gertrude.”
It wasn’t a shock that Addison had told Margo all about her. Addison had no loyalties but to his own amusement. She made for the second floor stairs
“No. Absolutely not. You stay right where you are.” Margo commanded, harsh and urgent. There was something different in her voice. A tiny quiver of vulnerability, of excitement, that left Eve feeling cold straight through. “Now. Talk.”
“Margo… I’m sorry.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Aww poor girl. She’s sorry!” Margo grinned bitterly.
Eve refused to be desperate. She had sunk low enough without desperation, she’d sunk lower than she’d ever imagined, for her. To have her. Just a taste.
“Margo.” Eve eyed the staircase. There was nothing stopping her charging up and jumping her on the landing. Her legs tingled to move. Yet, she stayed where she was, fiddling anxiously with the key in her hand instead. Maybe she should swallow it now, and Margo would rush down to tear it out of her stomach and leave her empty as she found her.
“Somehow I find it difficult to fully trust you. Can’t imagine why.” Margo cocked her head and scoffed. “You’re the star now, aren’t you? Go on, put on a show for me. Make me believe you.”
Eve stared at her. She thought if she squinted she could make out some gray growing out at the roots of her hair. Margo was daring her. Margo was, cruelly, betting that Eve would rather relinquish her power than walk out the door. But it wasn’t easy as all that, to leave.
“I’ve given up on Hollywood. It’s no place for a real theatre actress, I’ve found. Anyway, I came here to have a rational conversation with my peer and colleague, and you’re acting like a child. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Her neck ached from craning her head back.
Margo’s eyes widened with cynical delight and she cackled. “Yes, you broke into my flat for professional development… That’s not quite what I had in mind, but it’s cute. Show me more. Dance, little puppet.”
She should’ve left. Her apartment would be a sanctuary from her humiliation and her anger, but no cure for her unbearable, monstrous craving, no matter how many washed up hasbeens she filled it with. Margo moved to the top of the staircase. Eve itched to lunge at her, to knock her to the floor, and tear off her stockings and gorge herself on Margo’s pleasure.
“What do you want?” It might as well have been begging, the way the words collapsed into her exhale. She was dizzy with wanting.
“No. What do you want?” Margo's wicked grin nearly distracted Eve from the sincere, incredulous curiosity in her voice. “Go on. It’s the only way, little girl.”
She felt heavy with hunger.
“Please,” she growled, glaring up at Margo, who watched her indulgently and shook her head with mocking disappointment.
Through Margo’s loose robe she imagined she could see freckles trailing down her chest. She imagined she could see Margo’s nipples, hard and straining through the gray silk. Eve couldn’t help but give in. After all, what did it matter, if they both knew she wasn’t really sorry. She wasn’t quite ready to admit that any dignity she had, she had misplaced in her hurry to get through the front door.
“Please, I’m so sorry,” She said. “Margo,” she demanded.
She could see Margo’s chest heaving all the way from the bottom of the stairs.
“Well, that’s a start,” Margo said, unimpressed, leaning against the banister like she didn’t care, or like her knees were growing weak.
“Come up,” she instructed. Eve rushed to the staircase and began climbing. Margo soon halted her again, her frustration building by the second. “No. Get back down and start over. Crawl to me.”
Eve wished she could see Margo’s eyes from here. The strange strain in her voice was still there. She moved to the bottom of the stairs, angry embarrassment warming her cheeks, and fell to the floor. As she crawled up, her skirt kept catching on her knees. As she stopped and started, Margo snickered. The carpet bit into her palms, leaving harsh red grooves in her skin. But Margo was right up there, finally, waiting for her.
Margo cleared her throat, though her voice still sounded thick and low when she said, “And cry a little. Convince me.”
She worked tears into her eyes, pouted, sobbed. A talent far more useful for Hollywood than Broadway, or so she had thought. She had never in all her life been so completely humiliated, so debased. She made sure she had tears running down her face. By the time she was in steps of Margo, she knew her cheeks were pink and streaked and puffy. Margo looked down at her for a long time, leaving her to balance on her aching hands and knees as she took in the spectacle she had orchestrated, her face betraying arousal and repulsion at Eve’s reverence, and her merciless hunger.
“I’m so sorry. Please, please let me touch you. Please, it's all I’ve ever wanted," she whined. She clawed through the carpet. She dragged herself up the last steps, almost honest at last, to her own dismay.
Margo’s face was expressionless, though her voice was wickedly animated as she clapped and teased, “Good girl! Finally something Sarah Siddens-worthy out of you. I almost believe those tears.”
Yes, Margo would love this. Margo would get off on seeing someone adore her to the point of abjection. After all, why else would she have let Eve come home with her that first night?
“Please let me make you feel good. I just want to make you feel good.” She feared Margo would recognize the awful truth in her performance.
“Is that all you want? No, I think you’re too selfish for that, Eve.” Margo pouted. Then, in Bill’s director voice, “Don’t stop crying, I’m still not convinced that you’re sorry.”
She screwed her face into a scowl. That she had been so weak as to let herself wind up in this position was nearly beyond her comprehension, completely outside of her sense of herself.
Margo watched her, fascinated to see what she would do next, undeniably aroused in spite of herself. Eve was furious with herself for what she knew she was about to do. She never dreamed she would sink so low. But for Margo. For her.
She rose up to balance on her knees on the narrow step, itchy from the tears that clung to her chin and nose, dripping onto her blouse.
“How can I prove it to you?” she pleaded. Maybe she could be sorry, if Margo should desire it.
Margo looked momentarily stunned at her sincerity, stepping back from the stair ledge to get a better look at her. She was trying to gauge how far she would go, Eve thought. Even now, on her knees, mascara streaking down her cheeks, Margo was too afraid to see her fully. But she refused to be alone in this hunger, and she knew, as she’d always known, that it lay just under Margo’s skin. She would snap her in two and force it out of her, and make her a thing of desire -- ready to be worshiped.
Margo breathed hard. She gripped the banister and lifted her foot, and pressed the low blunt heel of her slipper into Eve’s chest, just above where her neckline cut. She twisted the heel, driving it painfully into the fragile skin there. Margo was always searching for someone to receive her whims, her desires and emotions, and bear them. Eve could bear them all. She needed them. She opened her chest and braced herself with the rail, and Margo, a small unreadable smile on her lips, shoved her back. Eve gripped the support and skidded down a couple steps, her knees skinned and burning. Maybe her knees were bleeding and she was dragging red stains through the cream carpet.
She climbed back up. Her rib cage ached from the pressure, her skin stung where the heel had dug in, but she didn’t dare look away from Margo, not even to check for a brand. She gently ran her fingers across her stinging skin and felt a pronounced indent that left her winded.
Margo’s eyes were hooded and lethargic. Eve watched the muscles in her throat strain as she swallowed.
“Kiss my shoe,” She demanded, presenting her foot forward.
And Eve rested her head to the side on the carpet, nuzzling the slipper with her nose. She would’ve sunk into the floor to get lower. Margo caressed her face with her foot, settled it atop her head. The sole pressed her cheek into her teeth uncomfortably, and Margo poised the heel right at her temple. If Margo put her weight on it, Eve understood with a warm, sick feeling in her stomach, that the heel would shatter her skull and drive down behind her eyes. Would Margo believe in the intensity of her desire, then?
They stayed like that, motionless, pantomiming an end that felt inexorable.
She could hear Margo breathing.
She almost wanted to say I love you. She wouldn’t have meant it.
Margo twisted the heel into her temple.
Margo soon lifted her foot and brought it in front of Eve’s face.
Margo’s foot twitched. “Kiss it,” she repeated, breathlessly.
Pristine gray satin slippers, and Eve was going to desecrate them. The feeling of the smooth fabric on her lips sent a rush through her spine. She kissed the toe, whimpering to make a show of it.
Once more, then she pulled away. Looking saccharinely up at Margo through her lashes, she gathered saliva at the front of her mouth, and spit hard on the shoe. She smeared the saliva across the side, dragged her tongue down the heel, kissing sloppily like Margo could feel it on her skin. Margo reacted like she could, jerking her foot up and nearly socking Eve in the chin. “Get back,” she snarled.
Eve scrambled up, frustrated. There were dark, wet streaks all over the shoe where Eve’s spit was soaking into the fine material.
She could see Margo preparing to tell her off, disarmed in a brief moment of vulnerability, flustered from arousal -- and Eve lunged up at her. Gripping her head hard, she pressed her lips forcefully against Margo’s. Margo gasped in pain and surprise and stumbled backward, giving Eve the chance to tongue inside. Margo’s mouth yielded. She wished her tongue was long enough to wedge into Margo’s throat and feel it pulse.
Margo wrapped a hand firmly around her neck, squeezing gradually harder until Eve had to stop kissing her. She wished Margo would take her with both hands and crush her trachea. Instead she dug her nails into her shoulders and turned her around, shoving her down over the banister. The wood dug horribly into her stomach and hip bones, and the feeling of falling made her queasy and disoriented. But she was just hooked over the railing, staring down at the landing where she had been moments before. She could barely breathe for the hard oak shoving her stomach into her lungs.
She felt Margo press up against her and bend over her back. For a brief moment, Eve imagined they would break through the railing and both tumble over the ledge together. Eve would drag her down.
With surprisingly tender hands, Margo stroked her hair, whispering into her ear, “You know, if I pushed you over, it wouldn’t be enough to kill you. But it would be enough to hurt you quite badly.”
Eve fidgeted and Margo bore into her with her hips. “I’ve been thinking about shoving you off here for a long time. Maybe I would finally see real tears out of you.”
“Please,” Eve dared.
Margo moved off and yanked her up by the back of her blouse, and Eve didn’t give her stomach a moment to recover, flying around to kiss her again.
Up close to her face, Eve could see clearly the lines around her eyes and mouth and forehead, the way her makeup had settled into them; the slight puffiness under her huge, expressive blue eyes. There were still traces of red lipstick in the lines of her lips, though most of it was smeared around her chin and cheeks, diluted slick pink with Eve’s spit. Delicious.
Margo grabbed her by the roots of her hair and tugged her head back. Eve wouldn’t care if Margo tore her hair straight out. She ripped Margo’s hands away from her face and latched onto her neck. She inhaled her, let her auburn hair tickle her nose, savored the acrid, aromatic flavor of her skin where she had applied perfume. She sunk her teeth into the muscle at her neck and Margo hissed deliciously. She wanted to worm her way under her skin with her tongue, taste the muscles and tendons and the blood.
She fiddled with the sash of Margo’s robe as she sucked and nipped at her collar bone. Margo suddenly pushed her away.
“Insatiable” she panted. Eve knew her resolve was wearing thin. “Get back on the stairs and be patient.”
Eve scrambled down, nearly too eager to speak, the carpet again driving into her stinging knees
“Down further” Margo murmured, quickly disrobing, eyes fixed on Eve as she revealed her stockings, her garters and girdle, and her bra. Then she sat carefully on the top step and spread her legs. In her mind, Eve thought if she tried hard enough, maybe she could smell her.
“I see you squirming down there. Don’t move a muscle, I don’t want to be attacked again.” She smirked, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. Eve stared, transfixed as she removed the article. Her breasts sagged, dense soft tissue. Her nipples were dark pink. Eve felt like she was melting into the carpet. But Margo quickly moved an arm up to cover them, faint insecurity behind her eyes.
“Now-” Eve snapped to attention, the foggy feeling immediately replaced by clear anticipatory focus “-crawl back to me. Slowly. Control yourself.”
Margo’s voice was even huskier than usual. She always knew Margo craved to be worshiped. Bill never would do it, was never willing to give himself up to her like that. But Eve had no identity to lose. Eve could do nothing else.
She crawled deliberately back up, one knee at a time, focusing on the feeling of the scratchy carpet on her palms, until she was standing on her knees in between Margo’s legs
“Let’s put that mouth to some use.” Margo’s voice was strained, like it was a real effort to speak. Then she froze for just a moment, dread at exposing her body betrayed by a catch in her breathing, a flush of her cheeks. Eve wondered, annoyed, how long Margo could carry on this cold war with her body. She was going to make Margo come so much she would forget she had a body at all.
Eve looked Margo dead on, then shut her eyes and let her mouth drop open, so desperately unfucked she couldn’t bear it any longer, and waited for Margo to give in. She felt a rough hand grip her hair and jerk her head down. She yelped, dizzy thrilling panic rushing to her head as she nearly slammed face-first into the stair. Margo could poke and prod her and test her devotion forever, and Eve would bear it all just to kneel on aching knees in front of her. She righted herself and grinned and opened her mouth again, and Margo murmured something under her breath.
Then, finally, she felt a firm warm palm wrap around the back of her head, and Margo guiding a breast into her mouth. They both sighed.
Just the feeling of Margo’s fragile skin under her lips was a release for Eve, who felt her starving panic begin to quiet. She gave a gentle lick, flicking the nipple to feel it swell in her mouth, then sucked it hard, Margo’s groan reverberating in her nerves. She left kisses across her breasts, licking and sucking everywhere she could get her mouth. She could feel the uneven tissue of her stretch marks as she drew goosebumps with her tongue. Margo’s nipples were achingly hard, positively begging to be bitten. She pressed her tongue flat against the other and sucked it into her mouth, and Margo twitched.
“All the lying, all the deceit, and all it took to shut you up was a little attention. You’re a desperate, pathetic thing.”
Eve bit down on her nipple until Margo shuddered and cried out and yanked her away. Then Margo pulled her back in, hugging her head hard into her chest til she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move her tongue, could only suck weakly and let Margo suffocate her. Margo’s heaving chest rhythmically pushed her breast into Eve’s teeth. Eve’s neck started cramping.
She felt the pressure around her head weaken, and she was able to pull back to catch her breath, and lavish her swollen nipple. Margo still cradled her head as she licked in between her breasts, sucked broken blood cells to the surface of her skin there, and moved to the other breast. Eve wrapped her arms around her torso and looked up, straining her eyes to see Margo’s face. Margo looked down at her, looking almost greedy herself. But Eve also saw, behind her eyes, a flicker of wonder, and of shame. Margo, in all her vanity, could scarcely believe anyone truly wanted her; and all the while Eve was trying to crack her own jaw open to fit more of her tender tissue in her mouth.
Margo started pulling her away, but Eve resisted, latching harder onto her delicate skin, clawing at her breast to keep it in her mouth. She whined in futile, pathetic protest. Now that she’d finally gotten this close, finally had the contact she had been yearning for since that very first night, she was overcome with a feeling of incompletion. Finally, miserably, she released, satisfied only with the deep purple bloom forming under her nipple, glistening with spit. Eve admired the damage she’d caused, the red rings from her teeth, the bruises, the sticky wet spots where her saliva was drying. She felt foolishly proud. Margo would be stuck to endure the physical marks of her voracity for weeks. Margo would watch the bruises turn green and yellow in the mirror and think of her.
She grinned. Then came the sudden, hot sting of Margo’s palm on her cheek. And again. Her face burned from the impact, and she felt her cheek smarting pink where Margo had made contact.
“Look what you’ve done. My word, you really are an animal.” Margo growled. She slapped her once more across the face, the pain a faint whisper as the sharp crack of the impact rang gloriously in her ears. Eve cried out, but she stayed still and braced herself, gladly, for more. It didn’t come. Her head was spinning and she felt the sting all the way to her nose, exquisite physical proof of the rageful lust she had provoked in Margo. Instead she felt fingertips brush gently across her smarting cheek, down her neck
“Why do you take it?” Margo asked, hesitating. Eve showed her cheek for Margo to strike again, before answering.
“I will take everything from you,” she said.
She grabbed Margo’s hand from where it lingered at her neck, and licked her palm slowly, staring into Margo’s angry eyes.
Margo jerked her hand away and struck her hard, sending a shock through her head and her neck. When she looked back up her eyes were watering.
Margo looked frenzied now with her arousal. Yes, Eve would take everything. Every last shred of dignity and composure and restraint, all for herself.
“Oh dear, look how she blushes,” Margo cooed, eyeing her cheek where Eve, shuddering, could imagine a stark red imprint of Margo’s cruel palm. A costume of Margo’s deepest, base longings and Eve’s unrelenting dedication to satisfying them. Margo gripped the collar of Eve’s dress in her fist and yanked her up a step, so she was close between her thighs
“Now. Keep those eyes on my face. Control yourself.”
Eve fixed her eyes on Margo’s face, taking in the sweat at her temples, the pink ghost of lipstick around her mouth, her big big eyes. She saw Margo moving her hand lower. Eve felt it brush against her chest as she brought it down to take off her panties.
Margo brought a hand to wait under Eve’s mouth. “Spit,” she demanded.
Eve gathered saliva from under her tongue and spit gratuitously in her waiting palm.
“Good… Put your hands behind your back,” Margo breathed, and lowered her hand to touch herself. Eve could’ve cried for real.
She wondered what Margo would do if she looked. If she shoved her hand away and buried her face there instead. She could do it--she was so near, and it would be so easy now to finally get inside her. She could hear Margo’s wetness, coaxed out by fingers coated in her spit. Margo herself looked like she half expected Eve to lunge at her again, mild surprise hidden behind a self-satisfied smirk. Why didn’t she?
She could tell Margo was rubbing at herself faster now, her face contorting with pleasure. Margo lurched forward, braced herself against Eve’s shoulder, and climaxed with an obscene groan over Eve’s chest. Eve kept her eyes all the way up, clenching her hands behind her back to keep from grabbing at her.
She kept her eyes up when Margo eased herself down to sit on trembling legs, breathing hard, thighs quivering. And she kept her eyes up when she felt Margo smearing her sticky wetness across her chest, where she had no chance of tasting it. The smell made her lightheaded Eve knew her knees were aching dreadfully, but she could barely feel them.
Margo cleared her throat. Her voice was thick. “You know, Eve, I think this is the first time I’ve ever been truly shocked by you. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Neither did I, Eve wanted to say.
“Please,” she said instead.
She felt Margo twist her fingers into her hair, dig into her scalp with her nails, and jerk her head back. Then she shifted forward to the edge of her step. Eve could barely see in her periphery, Margo moving her hand down, stroking inside herself. How wet she must be. How she wanted to look, to see her swollen pink flesh, to see if her hair was sticky too. She kept her eyes up.
“What is it you’re asking for this time?”
“Margo, please let me taste you.”
Margo cruelly brought her glistening fingers up to Eve’s lips. “You want to taste me?”
Arousal pulsed through her, pushing up her throat, so violent and relentless Eve was afraid she might throw up. Margo should’ve been frightened, but if se was, Eve couldn’t tell. In fact, she had never known Margo to be so contained. Margo wore her emotions flamboyantly on her sleeve to distance herself from them. Her fears and anger and lust and joy, a mask unto themselves, so she performed them compulsively. And yet now, somehow, in spite of herself, she was miraculously unfazed; stoic even as Eve fought to maintain any grasp on her own facade.
She nodded.
“You sure are a greedy little thing. You’ll just take and take until there’s nothing left… Open your mouth. Stick out your fucking tongue.”
The words coursed a cold thrill through her body. Eve let her mouth fall wide open and stuck her tongue out, straining til it hurt. She felt inordinately exposed like this, somehow—baring her soul through her mouth.
Margo dragged her fingers slowly down her tongue, and Eve quickly sucked her fingers into her mouth. Her fingers tasted musky, intoxicating. She let her feel around her mouth, pressed her tongue against them and sucked as if she could somehow, drink Margo through them. Margo pressed further and Eve relaxed. She wished Margo would keep going, deeper and deeper and deeper — her hand, her wrist, her arm down her throat. She would swallow the whole of her.
Margo worked her fingers down, stroking the back of her tongue, and Eve gagged deliciously. As her body seized and her mouth and eyes watered, she heard Margo inhale sharply.
Margo continued to finger her throat, her own lips parting. Eve could see in Margo’s dark eyes her own longing, her fascination and repulsion. Eve grabbed Margo’s wrist and shoved her hand deeper, making herself gag again. Maybe if Margo made it far enough down her reflex would give out. Until then, she relished the convulsive rush. Even more, she thrilled to see Margo grimace at her gluttony, at the thick saliva that now coated her fingers, at her own undeniable arousal at watching Eve want her; at watching Eve endure her. Eve tried to speak and Margo quickly took hold of her tongue, pinching it tightly.
“You know, Eve, this tongue has given me quite the time of it. You’re lucky I don’t cut it off.”
Eve wished she would. She grabbed Margo’s wrist again and yanked her hand away. “No, it wouldn’t suit you to do that yet, would it.”
Margo consumed her field of vision, glowing radiantly in the lamplight. The only thing in the whole world. Eve was totally reduced, a gaping empty chasm in her stomach, waiting to be filled with Margo’s desire — the calculated, remote part of her could only watch helplessly. Her very skin craved to be inside.
“Oh my, very cocky for a girl getting rug burns on my carpet.”
Eve trembled with overwhelming frustration, the nerves in her skin so sensitive she was near to tearing her own clothes off. She couldn’t breathe. Margo’s dry arousal on her chest was growing itchy. Margo watched her smugly.
“You should stick to begging. I don’t know why you bother saying anything else. It’s the only true thing out of you, isn’t it?”
Eve nodded, so overcome with desperation now that the humiliation hardly registered anymore. Kneeling between her thighs, so close she was sweating from Margo’s body heat, Eve thought she was burning up.
“Once more,” Margo commanded, sounding nearly as desperate as Eve now, recklessly succumbing to Eve’s abject longing for her. Did Margo realize just how vulnerable she had become?
Eve felt a grin tugging at her lips and forced it away. No. Margo would never learn. She would never admit that all it took, all it had ever taken, was totalizing devotion.
“Please, Margo. Please, I need it,” she gasped.
The words came far too easily now. But Eve knew, despite herself, that it was always meant to be just like this. Margo had an intoxicated, ecstatic look in her eyes.
“Hmm? What do you need, hungry thing?” Margo breathed.
Whatever Eve said next was going to be the last thing. She couldn’t bear to hold herself back any longer. Desire clawed through her like a rat trapped in a wall. She was infested with it.
“Please, I need your cunt. I need to be inside your cunt. Margo, please.”
She felt Margo press a palm to her forehead to hold her off for one more agonizing moment.
“To think I ever believed that you were a real threat to me... You wouldn’t exist without me. Do you agree?”
Eve was made from the bone of Adam’s rib.
“Yes,” Eve growled.
And Margo removed her hand from her forehead, and Eve surged to her cunt and settled contentedly, finding herself splayed haphazardly over the stairs.
Margo’s thighs enveloped her head as she buried her nose and mouth inside. She lapped up all of her wetness, nuzzled her face against her dark sticky hair. She felt Margo wrap her hands firm around the back of her head to keep her where she wanted. She pressed against her hard, gripping her head close, and rutted against her tongue. Eve wished she could crawl all the way inside her. It would never be close enough.
Margo pulled Eve back, drawing a long thread of spit with her, and looked down at her. Her face was impenetrable in a way Eve had never seen it before. She could feel her chin coated in saliva and arousal.
“I could smother you like this,” Margo said, voice soft and hoarse.
Eve nodded. Maybe, in the end, Bill would walk into the flat to find Margo, smoking next to her unbreathing body, come still drying on her mouth.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
She felt Margo pull a hand away from her head and watched as she dragged her fingers through herself. She brought them up to dangle tantalizingly above her face. Eve felt her mouth drop open. A small smile curled at Margo’s lips, as she passed Eve’s exposed tongue to smear herself across Eve’s forehead, her eyes, the bridge of her nose.
Then Margo stared at her. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but stopped. The silence felt heavy. Eve could smell her everywhere.
Finally, she spoke again. “Good,” she said.
Margo yanked her back to her cunt and wrapped her thighs around her head. Eve could feel Margo’s blunt heels pressing into the top of her back through her blouse. She wished now that she wasn’t wearing any clothes; all the better to feel the slippers biting at her sensitive skin, digging into her muscles.
But Margo was fucking hard into her mouth, her nose wedged into her hair, compressing her head and keeping her locked in place with her trembling thighs, and Eve thought Margo might actually suffocate her like this. Margo tugged and clawed at her hair, trying to get her somehow deeper. Like she too wanted to stuff Eve up inside herself. Eve’s tongue and chest and jaw and eyes burned. Either she would drown in her cunt with no air, or Margo would fuck her so hard her neck would snap backward. And wouldn’t it be ecstasy.
Soon her body started to panic, and only then did Margo loosen her legs and let her pull back, gasping and gulping and sputtering for air. She felt faint and foggy. Even more, she felt overwhelmingly, unbearably pathetic.
Margo’s perverse delight and revulsion were quickly masked with an exaggerated pout, her eyes flashing cruelly.
She was nearly as breathless as Eve as she said, “Oh dear, I rather hoped that would work. Turned out to be just another lie from you. Pity.”
Eve stared at Margo’s cunt, swollen red and seeping. She wrapped her arms around Margo’s thighs and pulled them tight against her head and latched to suck at her. Margo was soon thrusting into her mouth, so wet now Eve thought she might be able to choke on it. And Margo was grunting and panting and digging her nails into Eve’s scalp.
Eve could feel her lungs starting to burn again, as she fought with her tongue to keep going.
And suddenly Margo went rigid, groaning and fucking against her with short ruts and Eve’s ears were positively ringing.
Margo released her and shoved her away, and she crumbled against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She turned to look up at Margo, disheveled and glowing, flushing red down her neck and darkening purple bruises all over her breasts. Eve sucked the fluid off her bottom lip and made to lap at her. Margo hissed, jerking sweetly against her tongue.
“Hey,” Margo snapped, forcing Eve back with a shoe to her shoulder. Then she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and looked Eve dead in the eye, cold and threatening. “What do greedy girls say when someone gives them everything they’ve ever wanted?”
Eve adjusted herself and swallowed, and beamed brightly up at her. “Thank you, Miss Channing.” She must look a picture like this: hair tangled and mussed, face smeared with makeup and tear stains and spit, grinning like an actress at curtain.
Margo stood, finally, and stepped down to tower above her. Eve admired, with a surge of renewed voracity, the cellulite on her thighs and hips, accented beautifully by her white satin garters. Eve felt very very small.
“You really don’t have very much range do you? Lord knows what Lloyd ever saw in you. Let’s try just a little bit harder, shall we?”
Eve rose to crouch. She longed to see her stomach. Margo would never dare show it. She kissed everywhere she could get her mouth, sloppy messy kisses covering her thighs and her stockings, as she murmured thank yous. Margo even let her rise far enough to tug a nipple into her mouth.
“It doesn’t seem like you know quite what you’re thankful for.” Margo sounded strained now, practically emotional, though she did well to hide it. Eve grinned against her warm skin, nipping at her breast before returning, reluctantly, onto her battered knees
“Thank you, Miss Channing. For taking me in, and letting me live with you, and introducing me to the theatre, and letting me play Cora.” Margo smirked. “And letting me taste your cunt. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Why, when you spell it all out like that I do sound generous!”
“Very generous,” Eve nodded, her heart pounding in her ears with anticipation, half distracted by the stark pink lines drawn on Margo’s pale thighs by her garters. How she wanted to snap them with her teeth and make her shriek.
“And yet you still want more. Whatever am I going to do with you? What is left for me to give you?”
Everything you are, Eve wanted to say.
“Anything you want.” She said instead.
Margo’s face darkened. She knew, of course.
She teased Eve’s lips with her fingers and shoved them into her mouth.
“Ask me to hit you again,” Margo growled.
Eve tried hopelessly to speak around her fingers (Please hit me again). And felt, as she did, Margo slip deeper down her throat.
“Look at you…. Past the knuckles..” she murmured. “Say it more clearly, I couldn’t understand you.”
Eve tried again and Margo thrust her fingers hard against the back of her throat. As Eve gagged and coughed, Margo tore her fingers out of her mouth and struck her cheek with her dripping hand. She loathed how she yelped, how it burst from her throat uncontrollably from the shock and the pain. Her cheek stung and her eyes stung and her cunt throbbed almost unbearably. She reached up to feel her cheek, hot and sticky.
When she finally looked up, blinking tears out of her eyes, Margo had taken her seat on the high step, a look of withering disgust on her face as she requested “Come let me clean this filth off.”
Eve could feel her heart pounding in every part of her body. She wanted Margo to see the cruel, indelible evidence of her innermost self, and of Eve’s complete dedication to abiding it. She stood slowly, her knees stiff and sore. She lifted her skirt to show them off, pink and purpling with burning red patches where she’d dragged them so painfully across the carpet. Margo gasped, her eyelids fluttered. As Margo stared at her knees, she stepped up to offer her skirt, wrapping it around Margo’s fingers and pulling off.
“Do they hurt very badly?” Margo asked.
“Not very badly,” Eve said, honestly.
“But they hurt?”
“Yes.”
Margo stared longer, then cleared her throat. “Go walk down a few steps and turn back to me. Stay standing. Lift your skirt up.” Eve obeyed.
As she turned around to face her, she found she was eye-level to Margo sitting on the top step, her face still stony. She could feel Margo’s eyes on her body like pin pricks, as she scanned her messy red face, her tousled hair and splotchy chest, sweat-stained blouse, her knees. And then Margo moved a hand down to touch herself. Somehow, of all the debasement she had endured, this was the most dreadful. She watched as Margo rubbed frantically at herself, as she pressed fingers inside and pulled them back out glistening, and remembered her husky voice: control yourself.
“Margo-” she started, maybe a warning.
“You’d get back down on those poor knees just to put your mouth on me?” Margo breathed.
Eve almost broke down to begging again. “To put my mouth on you… to make you come.”
Margo convulsed with a moan. Eve could feel Margo’s pleasure building in her own body. “Can’t you leave me anything of my own?”
Eve shook her head. “I need it,” she murmured, crawling up to capture her soaked fingers in her mouth, before smothering her cunt. Margo surged into her, climaxing quickly with glorious little jerks and gasps.
“Get out of here,” Margo was panting through her ecstasy, hand buried in Eve’s hair as she braced herself against the floor. Eve continued to work her tongue.
She pushed her away suddenly, still twitching with sensitivity, as she reached for her robe. Eve looked up at her, ravenous, feeling positively drunk.
“Out. Get out. Don’t look at me like that,” Margo said, scrambling up and knotting her robe tightly, staring hard at the floor. Eve couldn’t make out the emotion on her face.
Eve only smiled sweetly once more and took a time licking her lips and her fingers noisily. Margo would be the one crawling back soon enough, she was sure of it. She supposed they had been playing her game after all.
“Well, if you’re feeling maudlin after Bill sees the mess you’ve made of yourself, I wouldn’t put on Liebestraume,” Eve said, sardonic, and skipped lightly down the rest of the stairs with the spare key burning in her pocket.