For disclaimers please see MYSTI: Mistress of Dreams

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Mad Max And The Publisher
by Sam Ruskin
~ January 19th, 2002 ~

Part 6

"Max, baby, are you sure you don’t want me to...Oh God."

Gillian worried at what the remaining bits of chair were doing to her sweet lover’s back, but every time she tried to exercise caution Max exercised a muscle.

"Max. Sweetheart, please. I don’t think you should take anything else off here. Doesn’t your back hurt?" Gillian mumbled across the tongue darting in and out of her mouth.

Strong hands pulled at her hips as her mind nearly spun out of control again. The blonde slid her fingertips across the smooth shoulders, then back toward generous breasts. At the last moment Gillian changed direction and pressed her hands beneath Max, lifting the powerful body into and against her own. The warm, sticky sensation stopped her cold.

"Jesus, Max! You’re bleeding. Sit up. No, I mean it Baby. Stop. You’re hurt!" The artist was nearly frantic and it wasn’t from her throbbing need either.

"Gillian, please." Max was not cooperating at all. In fact, she seemed to her worried lover to be pulling out all the stops as she pressed a hot tongue into a delicate ear. "I need you, Gillian. Please make love with me. Please baby."

"No!"

Max was paying attention now.

The hurt look in the startled blue eyes tore at Gillian’s heart but the warm blood on her hands gave reason the winning edge.

"I love you Max. I love you so much. And I want you, Baby. Honest I do. Trust me, I have every intention of making love with you. In fact, you may very well have to call in sick tomorrow when I’m done with you."

The brunette wiped a tear from her grinning face.

Gillian kissed Max softly and gently turned her wife’s body until the strong back was in full view. Green eyes squinted and the small nose scrunched up uncomfortably. The grimace was practically audible.

"What?" Max tried to look backward over her shoulder.

"Be still. You can’t see it that way and you’re going to hurt yourself," Gillian scolded.

"Um, Sweetheart, I think I may have already done that." Max meant to sound flip but caught a look at the blood on her wife’s hands about half way through the sentence.

The color began to fall like a curtain down the beautiful face, leaving behind a creamy beige-gray that was, at once, both frightening and fascinating. Gillian reached up to caress Max’s face just in time to catch it as the tall beauty slipped into unconsciousness.

"Well," sighed Gillian, "I love it that you keep falling for me over and over but this will never do."