***Author's Note***
This story is a companion piece to my earlier story "1969: Ghost Before the Dawn" and a companion piece to any stories in the "1969" series, and related series.
You don't have to read those to understand this story. They are all meant to make sense individually, as well as together.
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The Manhattan air felt of ice on that December day in 1966, but the tan, mocha-haired Kitten wore only a silk, lilac robe in the delectable warmth of her large and generously-decorated apartment.
Her "roommate" Betty-Ann, whose skin was light and hair was a rich caramel shade, wore an ivory robe of similar style. Her lips were a strong red and toenails were painted just the same.
Recent dates and sex with men were put aside. The two had hot chocolates, awaiting cookies baking in the oven, and they'd just finished 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas!' after it premiered on television for the first time.
"That's my favorite Christmas movie," Betty-Ann said.
"You only just saw it."
"And now it's my favorite."
Kitten laughed between chocolatey sips, "not 'White Christmas'?"
"You know I don't like that one."
"What about the one with the Martians?"
"A Christmas thief is more exciting."
"More than 'It's a Wonderful Life'?"
"Hey! That's not a movie; that's basically a Christmas present."
"Oh, a Christmas present, is it?" Kitten's eyes glimmered in the soft light, mouth turning to a Devilish smile. "I'll give you a Christmas present."
"It's not even Christmas-"
Betty-Ann giggled as Kitten picked her up, abandoning hot chocolates on the coffee table and carrying her to their room.
It didn't take long before robes were removed and kisses were planted.
And oh, how the two shared sweet kisses, Kitten's hand gliding softly down Betty-Ann's breasts, over her abdomen, and soon fingers playing rhythmically upon the rosebud between Betty-Ann's thighs.
Betty-Ann leaned harder against those soft fingers which circled her clit so well, her arms pulling Kitten closer. Her dollish lips laced on the tan cheeks and downward still; she trailed her nose on Kitten's neck, giving red-tinted kisses most everywhere she went.
Kitten gave soft moans and a kiss upon Betty-Ann's forehead, taking in the scent of her luscious shampoo. Kitten kept fingers in steady rhythm on that clit as her other hand played with soft caramel locks.
Betty-Ann moaned against the tan skin, squirming a little at the pleasure, yet Kitten maintained a perfect consistency.
The small woman's ever-increasing moans only served to make the both of them wetter, heat rising deep within Betty-Ann, sensations so divine as to be almost painful, begging to be released.
Her breathing was shaky and chaotic, her grip tight on Kitten's tan back, eyes glossed and mouth agape.
"Ple..please," she managed through her quiet gasps, though what she was requesting, she wasn't certain.
But Kitten definitely was.
Kitten looked directly into Betty-Ann's gaze, not stopping the rhythm for even a moment while she smiled at the caramel-haired woman.
Betty-Ann rose higher and higher still, teeth clenching and seething, moaning rougher and rougher as her fingertips pressed into Kitten's back.
She moaned out hard, legs shaking violently as her sex pulsated, abdomen tightening and untightening itself with the fervor of a jaguar.
Still, Kitten didn't stop.
Betty-Ann kicked about, Kitten keeping her fingers in position with Betty-Ann's motions, rushing her with more and more pleasure, more moaning, more begging.
Betty-Ann could hardly breathe, and certainly didn't mind that. She played with Kitten's mocha waves through fits of practical agony, orgasms pummeling her without a moment's rest for her clit, for her sex, for her shifting abdomen.
Her sex repeatedly pulsated, her body flailed about, forcing itself on her back against the fresh cotton sheets.
Her hot lust filled the air with its sweet, feminine scent.
It only fueled Kitten's desire, the rhythm unchanging, unbending to the will of aches or a moment's rest for her hand.
Her eyes were focused solely on the caramel-haired woman, on her small and delicate curves, on her wild and chaotic legs.
Betty-Ann grabbed a pillow and buried her face within, muffling her own screams and shattering moans.
It was torture. Pure, delicious torture.
She orgasmed again and again and again and again.
Endless divine pleasure washing over her, playfully torturing her most sensitive place, making it even more sensitive than before.
God, she couldn't take it. She just couldn't take it.
Betty-Ann screamed a final, storm-punching scream into the fluffy pillow before moving Kitten's hand away from her clit.
There, her body fully untensed, finally able to rest.
Her long lashes fluttered as she tried to keep her eyes open, even the soft light streaming from another room's window a strain upon her.
Kitten smiled and giggled toward Betty-Ann. She leaned in to give another precious kiss to the woman's forehead, another still to her freckled nose as she pet her hair ever so gently.
"You know, Bet..."
"Mmmmh?"
"I love you."
"I believe it," Betty-Ann gave a small giggle through her whisper, and a delicate sigh to follow. "I love you too, Kit."
Betty-Ann soon fell into a pleasant, dream-filled sleep. Kitten cleaned up just before the oven went off. She ate a few cookies, finished her hot chocolate, and went to sleep herself.
And what happened then? In Manhattan, they say, that Kitten's sweet smile grew three sizes that day.
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