Chapter Eleven: Temptation
One particular thought, though, kept bothering her. Either it had slipped Makoto's mind that Ami kissed her back or Makoto just didn't want to mention it, preferring to shoulder the blame herself. Both theories had the smaller woman experiencing guilt for not coming clean about her own willing participation. When it happened, she had wanted that kiss, wanted it much more than Makoto might ever imagine. Stopping in front of the open garage door, the moment replayed itself in her head. Her hand came up to lightly rub her lips as the memory unveiled itself. Makoto's lips had felt so very right against her own, not to mention how good the brunette was at kissing.
Stepping into the cool interior she wheeled out Hana's bicycle first before dropping the kick-stand and returning for her own. Hands on the handlebars of her bicycle, Ami walked outside to see Makoto reverently touching the handlebars and the seat of Hana's 1950s styled red and white cruiser. Even by moonlight Makoto could tell how good of a condition the bike was in despite its age.
"She's beautiful," Makoto breathed with awe in her voice.
"Yes," Ami agreed, although her eyes were on the brunette instead of the vehicle. Makoto had changed into a pair of slim khaki shorts that ended a little above her knees. The grey tank top she wore exposed a good deal of skin, displaying strong, toned shoulders. As Ami stared at Makoto's shoulders she experienced a sudden urge to lick the oh-so-tempting body part. A furious burst of red adorned her cheeks at the thought, her hands gripping her handlebars tightly.
Oh dear god, what is wrong with me?
Her gaze dropped to the handlebars; her knuckles were white with tension. Loosening her grip she sucked in a breath of air in order to calm herself.
"Ami?"
"Ready, Makoto?" Her voice came out squeakier than she intended. Why did Makoto continue to have such an effect on her? There were times when she felt like nothing more than the sixteen-year-old Ami in front of this impressive, not to mention unattainable woman.
"Yes," Makoto replied. She was already sitting on the bike, her left foot planted on the ground while the right rested on a pedal. There was nothing in her pose to indicate impatience; instead, she looked quite relaxed and at home sitting in that manner, a delighted smile aimed at Ami on her face.
Makoto observed the flush of crimson that spread across Ami's face. The smaller woman wore a soft-looking olive green spaghetti tank top: the very same one she had been wearing in the kitchen a few moments ago the brunette realized. It was no wonder Ami had gotten dressed so quickly. Olive green stripes on the plaid drawstring shorts she wore complimented the top. A pair of flat gray sneakers covered her feet.
She looks nice and casual. Very cute, Makoto thought to herself as Ami mounted her bike and took off slowly. But why is she blushing?The question was soon forgotten when a smooth expanse of Ami's slender thighs and calves were revealed due to her shorts hitching up as she rode.
"Oh crap..." Makoto muttered. She was starting to question if a night ride with Ami was a good idea. Every time she turned around there was something new to tempt her. Think of work, think of the water lilies! No, no, no, they remind me of her eyes. Let's see...cooking! Think of ingredients!But what Makoto really pictured was Ami braced seductively against her kitchen counter wearing a pink, short, ruffled, sexy apron. No other stitch of clothing could be seen on her.
"Agh!" Makoto spat a short bark of frustration.
"Did you say something, Makoto?" Ami called back to the brunette as they exited through the large wooden gates that were usually left open, much like the garage door. Living in a small community, there was no need to lock the gates or even doors the way people in large cities tended to do.
"Just saying what a nice night it is!" Makoto remarked quickly, but as the words left her lips she realized how true they were. It was indeed a beautiful July night, the full moon replacing all vibrant color with monochromatic shades. Every leaf, flower, and blade of grass glistened, coated in a new quicksilver glamour.
Across the road, opposite the house, fields of rice paddies waved and danced under the breezy summery darkness. The lack of street lamps allowed the moon the honor of being the sole source of light. The croaking of hidden frogs provided music for this wondrous landscape, and every so often pebbles crunched under their tires, adding to the symphony of collective melodies.
Distracted by the scenery around her Makoto increased her pace to ride side by side with Ami.
"Do you just ride aimlessly like this, or do you always have a particular destination in mind?" she asked, looking straight ahead at the glimmering road.
"It starts out quite aimless," Ami said with a laugh. "But somehow I always end up at the lake."
"Do you go swimming?" Makoto asked with a grin.
"Oh no!" Ami giggled. "It's not like I have a swimsuit with me."
"So?" Makoto asked, very serious.
Immediately catching Makoto's insinuation, Ami's face flamed. She should not have been shocked, but she was nevertheless, at the brunette's disregard for propriety. Despite her embarrassment her traitorous mind helpfully provided a naked Makoto immersed in the lake up to her chest. Ami rallied on, however, with what she thought was a suitable amount of outrage.
"Makoto, I happen to live here with these people. And I see some everyday!" Her tone implied nothing short of being scandalized as she stared straight ahead.
"It's the middle of the night, who's going to see?" The brunette asked curiously, playing the devil's advocate while sporting a slight grin. She glanced at the woman to her right; she was actually quite charmed by Ami's modesty.
Ami did not provide an answer, instead choosing to ride in silence. After a few minutes she turned to Makoto. "Do you remember the way to the lake?"
"Yes," Makoto answered immediately, wondering why Ami asked.
"Good. Race you there!" Ami said before taking off, her smooth legs pumping the pedals, her rear practically rising off the seat.
Jaw dropping from the sudden departure, all Makoto could do was stare at Ami's back as distance increased between them.
"Wha-hey! Wait!" Coming to her senses Makoto lunged off her seat, the muscles of her calves flexing as her legs pushed the pedals while she chased after Ami. A playfully feral grin flickered on her face.
"So, you want to play like that?" She asked out loud, into the darkness, speaking more to herself than to the other woman. Brown hair, turned dark in the moonlight, streamed behind her as she spun onto the dirt road to her left, exhilaration sweeping through her at the speed. Makoto barely noticed they were leaving the fields of rice paddies behind, as she flew past the random copses of trees dotting the landscape on the way to the lake. She spotted Ami up ahead, a good twenty feet between them; Ami was her goal. The distance between them reduced rapidly.
Ahead of her Ami slowed, her speed dwindling down to an effortless glide before she turned once more with the dirt path. Beyond her Makoto could see the dark, shimmering water of the lake. Pulling up beside Ami they sat on the bicycles, side by side, pairs of blue and green eyes watching the lake as they caught their breaths.
"You lost," Ami chuffed a moment later, a small amount of triumph in her voice. It was the first time Makoto had heard that particular tone. She grinned.
"It's because you cheated," Makoto joked as she placed her hands on her hips, her feet planted firmly on the ground.
"No, it's because you're slow." Ami turned to tease her, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. Her hair was an adorably messy mass of blue and Makoto itched to touch it.
"Oh, you wound me so," she retorted with a drawl. "And really, who would have thought the straight-laced Dr. Ami Mizuno would have a competitive streak a mile wide?" Giving into the urge, her right hand came up and brushed through the short blue locks of Ami's hair.
The small woman stood still, caught between wanting to simply enjoy the pleasurable feeling of Makoto's hand in her hair or to touch the tall woman in return. Tired of thinking, Ami decided to let her body speak for itself, the countless inner arguments tossed aside. She caressed the side of Makoto's face, fingers gently tracing over hot skin.
At the touch Makoto propelled herself backwards and off the bike, clumsily putting space between them. "Oh god, I'm doing it again. I'm sor-"
"Makoto, stop," Ami called out, firmness apparent in her tone. The brunette looked at her mid-apology, somewhat confused.
"I want you to touch me. I wanted-" the words caught in her throat and she gulped before trying again. "I liked kissing you. And I can't help but want to do it again. I don't want you to apologize for it." Losing her nerve after the confession, Ami looked down at her feet. She heard a kickstand drop and the crush of pebbles underfoot as Makoto drew near her.
"Let's sit for a moment, okay?"
Following the brunette's example, Ami got off the bike and found a spot on the grass that afforded a pretty view of the lake. A cool spot for teenagers and children to play and swim during hot days, the body of water was twenty-five feet deep in the middle. Not far from where she sat, a sandy area at the edge of the lake created a natural tiny beach.
Makoto joined her in the grass immediately, sitting to her left, long legs stretched out before her. "Then why the slap?"
"Because you left without a word. I didn't think it was right to just leave a note after it happened. I didn't hear from you for months and then you show up out of the blue acting as if everything was fine." Ami ran her fingers nervously through the blades of grass under her fingers at her side as she spoke. "I really am sorry for slapping you."
"I thought it was a dream." Makoto was staring at her, a slight smile of bemusement on her face. "After I got back to Tokyo, I kept having the same dream. I was kissing you," Makoto exhaled. "It felt so good."
Ami blushed, Makoto's eyes meeting hers.
"Even now, I'm so tempted..." Makoto whispered.
Objections about Makoto not wanting a relationship or the fact that she wasn't interested in love surfaced, but instead of listening Ami ignored all the little voices and succumbed to what she wanted for years. Leaning in, she brushed her lips against Makoto's. It was so very sweet and perfect; they both sighed in contentment.
Tentatively, she swept her tongue over Makoto's lips and the tall woman eagerly met Ami's with her own. As they deepened the kiss, the small woman placed both her palms on Makoto's shoulders, squeezing, before pushing the brunette down into the grass. One of Makoto's hands dove into Ami's hair, pulling her closer while the other hand splayed against the small of Ami's back, the length of their bodies stretched out together.
The moon continued to shine down, the only spectator to their sweet embrace.
-x-x-x-
It was morning and Hana walked into the kitchen expecting to find it empty only to encounter a scene straight out of a newlywed album. Ami stood at the stove, spatula in hand while Makoto arranged the dishes. Every so often the two would look up and share a secretive little smile, or even linger a little next to each other before continuing their tasks.
Hana seated herself quietly, burying the urge to laugh, settling instead for smirking behind her newspaper.
It seems a little moonlit exercise can work wonders.
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