[man-of-sea]

Part II The good stuff

### Twisted Grove

Elena and Beth pushed through the cedar branches, the grove opening into a small clearing. The ground was soft with fallen needles, and twilight shadows stretched across the grass. Victoria stood there, illuminated by the fading light, a vision of calculated menace. She wore a skin-tight spandex top that strained against her curves and matching Lycra shorts that rode high on her toned thighs. Her blonde waves were loose, wild, and her makeup was fierce: red lips curled in a predatory smirk, eyes blazing with manic entitlement. But what stole Elena’s breath was the sight at her feet: her 16-year-old son, Preston, kneeling on the dirt with his wrists bound behind him by a cheap zip tie to a stake driven into the ground. His school hoodie was dirt-streaked, his eyes were wide with terror, and his mouth was gagged with a strip of cloth. He whimpered softly, struggling against the ties, the fear raw and childlike.

"I hope you don't mind," Victoria purred, her voice silk over venom as she circled her son like a trophy, one hand possessively on his shoulder. "I wanted to have my son watch me tear you apart limb by limb. A real lesson in strength, something you clearly skipped in your little history classes."

Elena took a short gasp, her mind reeling. *What kind of sicko is this woman?* The thought hit like a gut punch, using her own kid as bait, as audience, twisting motherhood into this grotesque spectacle. Preston's eyes locked on Elena's, pleading; the bravado he flashed in class shattered into pure vulnerability. "Preston, don't worry, we can deal with this," Elena said firmly, her voice steady despite the rage boiling inside, stepping forward instinctively to shield him. She could see the fear etched in his young face, the way his bound hands trembled.

Glaring at Victoria with eyes like daggers, Elena's athletic frame coiled, combat shorts taut over her quads. "What kind of sick mother are you, bringing your son here? This isn't parenting; it's deranged."

Victoria laughed, a sharp, echoing bark that ricocheted off the cedars, her spandex top shifting with the motion, highlighting the predatory gleam in her eye. She flicked her gaze to Beth, dismissing her with a sneer. "Oh, darling, I'm giving him an education that you never did. Real powerwatching weakness gets crushed. And I hope your little blondie friend there is going to watch me tear you apart. Front-row seat to your downfall."

Beth tensed beside Elena, her hand twitching toward the pepper spray in her pocket, blue eyes flashing fury, but Elena grabbed her arm firmly, grounding, fingers digging in just enough to convey *hold*. "Don't," Elena murmured low, for Beth's ears only, her touch a lifeline amid the madness. "She's just trying to get into our minds and play sick games. Don't let her."

Beth exhaled sharply, nodding once, her page-boy hair brushing Elena's shoulder as she stepped back a fraction, ready but restrained. Their bond held like steel, Victoria's barbs glancing off the armor of their unity.

Elena released Beth's arm, rolling her shoulders, the sports bra hugging her chest as she squared up to Victoria, the distance between them shrinking to mere feet. The air crackled, thick with impending violence, Preston's muffled whimpers the only sound breaking the tension. "Okay, bitch," Elena growled, voice low and lethal, her Special Forces poise radiating menace. "Let's get this over with. Any rules?"

Victoria's smirk widened, her lycra-clad legs shifting into a mock fighting stance, sloppy, telegraphed, but eager. "Rules? Darling, the only rule is you bleed first." She lunged, the grove erupting into chaos, Elena sidestepping with predatory grace, the fight igniting under the cedars' watchful shadows.

### Clash in the Clearing

#### Beth's View

Beth, pressed against a cedar trunk for cover, watched Elena square up her wife’s lean muscles rippling under a sports bra and combat shorts. Beth felt a surge of pride mixed with raw fear. Elena’s lunge was wild, committed, as she exploded forward like a cornered animal.

Victoria’s fist whistled past Elena’s ear, close enough to stir her hair, but she sidestepped with fluid grace, a reminder of their sparring sessions. Beth whispered, a small smile tugging her lips despite her stomach knot. Elena countered with a low jab, compressing Victoria’s spandex top with a muffled thud. Victoria grunted, doubled over, but recovered with a snarl, swinging a haymaker that grazed Elena’s shoulder.

Beth’s breath caught as the women circled, feet scuffing the needle-strewn ground. Preston’s muffled sobs from his stake cut through the grunts and rustles. His wide eyes darted between the fighters, but Beth couldn’t look away. Victoria pressed, her kickboxing form showing in a sloppy front kick aimed at Elena’s knee. Elena blocked it with her forearm, the smack of flesh on flesh sharp in the air. Then she drove forward with a knee to Victoria’s thigh, buckling it. Sweat beaded on their skin, the fading light glinting off it, turning the fight into a primal ballet. Beth’s cropped top rose with each shallow breath. *Hold on, babe,* she urged silently, fingers digging into the bark. Elena’s element stirred something deep in Beth, a mix of terror and her wife’s unyielding strength.

#### Elena's View

The world narrowed to the woman in front of me, Victoria's sneer twisting into a roar as she lunged, her spandex-clad arm cutting the air like a scythe. Instinct took over; I pivoted left, the rush of her missed punch brushing my cheek, hot and close. *Amateur,* I thought, the Special Forces drills flooding backbreathe, assess, strike. Her momentum carried her forward, off-balance, and I snapped a quick jab into her ribs, feeling the give of flesh under my knuckles through that thin top. She wheezed, eyes widening in shock, but entitlement fueled her; she spun back with a wild hook that clipped my deltoid, pain blooming like fire, but not enough to slow me.

We circled the clearing, my combat shorts chafing slightly against sweat-slick thighs, heart rate steady at that trained 140 bpm, focused, not panicked. Preston's fear hit me harder than any punch; his bound form was a peripheral blur, but I locked it out. *Eyes on her.* Victoria's next move was a straight kick, thigh muscle flexing under lycra as it aimed for my knee, predictable, straight from some boutique class. I checked it with my shin, the collision jarring up my leg like striking a sandbag, bone vibrating, but I powered through, driving my knee into her outer thigh. She yelped, staggering sideways into a cedar sapling that shook needles loose onto her hair, her breath coming ragged now, chest heaving against the spandex.

*She's tiring already,* I noted, tasting copper on my lip from where her earlier graze had split skin. But she viciously lunged again, grappling for my waist, nails raking my sports bra strap. We clinched, bodies slamming together in a tangle of limbs and sweat, her perfume mixing with the earthy grove scent. I felt her push, trying to drive me back toward the trees, but I hooked her leg, unbalancing us both. We hit the ground hard, dirt grinding into my back, her weight pinning me for a heartbeat, elbows flying, knees jamming. *Not today,* I growled inwardly, bridging my hips to flip her off, the fight's rhythm shifting as dusk deepened around us.

### Grounded Fury

#### Beth's View

Beth's grip on the cedar bark tightened until splinters bit her palm, her breath shallow as the women tumbled to the needle-carpeted ground in a whirlwind of limbs and grunts. The impact shook the clearing, dirt puffing up around them like smoke from a blast. Elena was on her back for a terrifying instant, Victoria's lycra-clad body straddling her, nails flashing like claws toward Elena's face, but then the flip, Elena's hips bucking with explosive power, reversing their positions. *Yes,* Beth thought, a fierce whisper escaping her lips, her cropped top damp with sweat from the tension. But Victoria wasn't done; she fought like a cornered cat now, dirty and desperate, her spandex top tearing slightly at the shoulder as she thrashed.

The heiress's hand snaked up, fingers raking across Elena's cheek, red welts blooming instantly, blood trickling from a shallow gash. Beth winced, stepping forward half a pace before catching herself; Elena had said hold back, but watching this savagery twisted her gut. Victoria grabbed a fistful of Elena's hair, yanking viciously to expose her neck, then lunged with her teeth bared, aiming for the throat like some feral animal. Preston's muffled cries sharpened, his bound knees digging into the dirt as he strained to watch, horror etching his young face. Beth's blue eyes burned.* This isn't a fight; it's madness, but Elena's form shifted, her movements sharpening into something lethal, precise. The Special Forces mode Beth had only glimpsed in stories and scars; now it was real, a predator uncoiling. Victoria's dirty tactics were unraveling her, but Elena... Elena was ending it.

#### Elena's View

The ground hit hard jarred my spine, drove the air from my lungs, but training snapped in like a lock: *protect the bridge, reverse.* I bridged my hips, core igniting with that old fire, flipping her off me in a scramble of sweat-slick skin and dirt. Victoria landed on her side, gasping, but she rolled up feral-fast, eyes wild with that spoiled rage turning rabid. No more pretty kicks; this was street now, her nails slashing across my cheek, fire lancing skin, warm blood dripping into my mouth. *Dirty,* I cataloged, tasting iron, but it fueled the shift. Special Forces mode: compartmentalize pain, assess threats, neutralize. Outcome locked, subdue, not kill. End it clean for Preston's sake, for Beth watching from the shadows. No escalation; just finality.

She came at me low, lunging for my legs in a sloppy tackle, but I sprawled knees wide, hips dropping to block, then drove an elbow into her shoulder as she wrapped my thigh. The crack of impact echoed, her lycra shorts bunching as she yelped, grip loosening. We clinched again, rolling once, twice, needles sticking to my back, her elbow jamming my ribs with a bruise-forming thud. But she went filthier: free hand clawing for my eyes, thumb gouging toward the socket, nails scraping the orbital bone. I turned my head, the pressure glancing off my temple, stars bursting, but I countered instinctively, trapping her arm in a figure-four lock, hyperextending the wrist with a twist that popped like a dry branch. She screamed, high and unhinged, thrashing to free it, but I mounted her chest, knees pinning her arms, my combat shorts grinding dirt into her spandex as I rode out the buck.

"Yield," I growled, voice low thunder, forearm pressing her throat, not choking, just pressure, cutting air enough to focus her. She bucked wildly, free hand slapping at my face, raking my sports bra strap until it snapped loose, but it was frantic, weakening. Her legs kicked up, heels drumming my back, trying to bridge me off, but I posted on her hips, weight distribution perfect, years of takedowns in sand and mud making it second nature. Preston's whimpers cut through, a reminder: *this ends now.* I shifted, delivering two sharp palm strikes to her solar plexus, controlled, thudding into the spandex, forcing a whoosh of expelled breath. She gagged, eyes bulging, fight draining as her body went slack beneath me.

I held the mount, chest heaving, blood from my cheek dripping onto her top, mixing with her sweat. Her eyes met mine, defiance cracking into fear, the entitlement shattered. *It's over,* I thought, the mode receding like a tide, leaving exhaustion and resolve. I rolled off, standing on shaky legs, the grove spinning for a beat before steadying. Victoria curled fetal, wheezing, defeated. Beth's silhouette moved forward, Preston's eyes locked on men, not his teacher, but his savior. The fight was done; the real work began.

### Aftermath in the Grove

The clearing hung heavy with the aftermath. Victoria's wheezing gasps punctuated the rustle of cedars in the evening breeze, her lycra-clad body curled on the dirt like a discarded rag, spandex torn and mud-streaked. Elena stood over her, chest rising and falling in controlled breaths, blood trickling from the gouges on her cheek, her sports bra strap dangling loose against her sweat-slicked skin. The Special Forces mode ebbed, leaving a bone-deep ache in her ribs and shoulders, but satisfaction burned brighter: the threat neutralized, Preston safe. She glanced at the boy, his eyes still wide but now flickering with relief amid the fear, then nodded to Beth. "Get him untied. I'll watch her."

Beth moved like lightning, her athletic frame dropping to one knee beside Preston, the cropped top riding up slightly as she worked. "Hey, kid, it's okay, we're here," she murmured, voice steady and soothing, her page-boy blonde hair falling forward as she assessed the zip tie binding his wrists to the stake. The gag was a simple cloth strip, knotted tight; she untied it first, gently peeling it from his mouth. Preston coughed, sputtering, "M-Ms. Ramirez... she made me... I didn't want." His voice cracked, teenage bravado shattered, tears streaking his dirt-smudged face.

"Shh, no one's blaming you," Beth said, her blue eyes kind but firm, fingers digging into her pocket for a multi-tool keychain, always prepared, her banker's practicality shining through. She sliced through the zip tie with the small blade, the plastic snapping free with a *twang*. Preston's arms flopped forward, rubbing his raw wrists, and Beth helped him to his feet, steadying his wobbly stance with a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her for a second, shaking, the weight of his mother's madness crashing down. "Can you walk? Let's get you out of here."

Elena kept her distance from Victoria, who stirred with a groan, pushing up on one elbow, her blonde waves matted with needles and sweat. "Stay down," Elena warned, her voice low and edged, as she shifted to block any escape, her combat shorts dusted with dirt. Sirens wailed in the distance at first, then closed fast. The police report from earlier, or maybe a park patrol spotting the coupe; either way, backup was en route. Victoria's eyes darted, defiance flickering back, but she slumped, clutching her hyperextended wrist. "You... you'll pay for this," she hissed, but it was hollow, broken.

Blue and red lights flashed through the cedars as two squad cars crunched into the parking lot, doors slamming in unison. Footsteps pounded down the path as four officers, their vests bulky under the twilight, moved with their hands on holsters. The lead sergeant, a no-nonsense woman in her forties with a tight bun and sharp gaze, burst into the clearing first, flashlight sweeping the scene. "Police! Hands where I can see them!" she barked, taking in the tableau: the bound teen now free, the two women in workout gear, one standing tall, the other defeated on the ground.

Elena raised her hands slowly, palms out, her stance relaxed but alert. "We're the ones who called earlier about the brick incident. This is the follow-up. She's the aggressor; we have proof." Beth guided Preston toward the officers, her arm around his shoulders protectively, while another cop moved to cuff Victoria, who went limp, muttering curses as they Mirandized her.

Beth caught the sergeant’s eye, her phone already unlocked to the video app. “Sergeant, I recorded the whole thing.” She angled the device, playing the footage from the moment they cleared the cedars. Victoria’s taunts, the lunge, the scratches and grapples, Elena’s counters, the mount, and strikes were all captured. The audio included threats, Preston’s whimpers, and Victoria’s unhinged snarls. The video shook slightly from Beth’s grip, but it was clear: assault, child endangerment, and more.

The sergeant watched in silence, her jaw tightening as the clip ended with Victoria's defeat. She nodded once, pocketing her notepad. "This changes everything. Good work getting it on record. We'll need statements from all of you first, then the rest." She radioed for an ambulance for Victoria's wrist and Preston's check-up, her eyes flicking to Elena with a hint of respect. "You okay? That looks like it got ugly."

Elena wiped blood from her cheek, a tired smile ghosting her lips as Beth returned to her side, their hands brushing in silent solidarity. "Been through worse. Just glad it's over." Preston huddled with an officer, safe now, the grove's shadows lifting as floodlights from the cars bathed the scene. The night air cooled, carrying the weight of closure. Victoria's empire was crumbling under the weight of her own madness, Elena and Beth's bond unbreakable in the light of justice.

Part III War stories

### Sanctuary's Embrace

The drive home from Grover's Park was a quiet exhale, the SUV's headlights cutting through the night as Elena navigated the familiar streets, her knuckles white on the wheel despite the adrenaline crash settling in. The police had wrapped statements efficiently, the video sealing Victoria's fate with charges stacking up: assault, false imprisonment of a minor, and endangerment. Preston had been released to a social worker pending investigation, his grateful nod to Elena lingering like a small victory. Beth sat shotgun, her hand resting on Elena's thigh through the combat shorts, a silent anchor. No words needed; the win was theirs, the bond deeper for it.

They pulled into the driveway under the porch light, the house welcoming like a fortress. Elena killed the engine, leaning back with a sigh, the cuts on her cheek stinging in the cool air. "Home," she murmured, and Beth squeezed her leg, blue eyes soft in the dashboard glow.

Inside, Beth flicked on the hall light, kicking off her sneakers. "Shower first, you reek of victory and dirt." She headed straight to the master bathroom, the en-suite a haven of marble and steam, twisting the faucet to start the rainfall shower. Hot water cascaded, filling the space with a soothing hiss, mist curling up the glass. She stripped off her cropped top and leggings, her athletic body unselfconscious, page-boy hair tousled, then poked her head out the door. "Join me, babe. Let me take care of you."

Elena followed, shedding her damaged sports bra and shorts in the bedroom, the fabric whispering to the floor. Naked, she stepped into the steam, the water hitting her skin like a balm scalding at first, then perfect, rinsing away the grove's grit and blood. Beth was there, lathering a loofah with their shared lavender soap, her hands gentle but sure as she pulled Elena under the spray. "Turn around," she said softly, starting at the shoulders, the loofah gliding over tense muscles in slow, exploratory circles.

Beth took her time, washing Elena with reverent hands, mapping the familiar terrain of her wife's body, thumbs pressing into the knots along her spine, suds trailing down the curve of her back. She explored lower, soaping Elena's hips, the swell of her ass, fingers lingering with that intimate knowledge born of years together. Elena leaned into the wall, eyes closing, a low hum of contentment escaping her lips as Beth's touch turned sensual, palms sliding up to cup her breasts, thumbs circling the nipples into peaks. The water pounded, steam wrapping them like a cocoon, the day's violence fading under the caress.

As Beth knelt to wash Elena's legs, her hands pausing on the left thigh, she noticed them again, the old scars, faded but telling. One puckered dimple high on the left shoulder, entry and exit of a bullet wound, the skin rough and slightly discolored. Lower, just below the left butt cheek, another: a jagged slash, knife work or shrapnel, the tissue pulled tight from healing. Beth's fingers traced them lightly, not probing, just acknowledging these were stories she'd heard fragments of, but never the full weight. "These... from over there?" she asked, voice hushed over the water's rush, rising to press a kiss to the shoulder scar.

Elena turned, water streaming down her face, dark eyes meeting Beth's with a mix of vulnerability and strength. "Yeah. Battle souvenirs." She rinsed the soap, then cupped Beth's face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "We should go to the hot tub. I'll explain how I got those properly, no rush."

Beth nodded, a small smile breaking through, her hands lingering on Elena's waist. "I'd like that." She shut off the shower, grabbing plush towels, drying Elena first with a slow pat, lovingly, before wrapping her own. The night air chilled as they padded to the back patio, the hot tub a sunken glow under the stars, jets bubbling invitingly.

Beth detoured to the wet bar in the corner, the outdoor setup stocked for evenings like this: glasses clinking as she poured two generous white wines from the chilled Sauvignon Blanc, crisp and floral. She grabbed the bottle too, corked and half-full, balancing it with the stems. Elena was already easing toward the tub, her naked form silhouetted against the fence, towel discarded, the steam rising to kiss her skin as she perched on the edge, feet dipping in.

"Here," Beth said, handing over a glass, clinking it gently before setting the bottle on the ledge. She slid in beside her, the water enveloping them both in heated waves, jets massaging sore muscles. Elena sank deeper, sighing, the wine cool on her lips as she leaned back, ready to share the shadows of her past. The night wrapped around them, private, safe, their team unbreakable.

### Tales in the Steam

The hot tub's jets hummed a steady rhythm, bubbles rising around Elena and Beth like a private veil, the white wine's chill contrasting the enveloping heat. Elena took a slow sip from her glass, the Sauvignon Blanc crisp on her tongue, floral notes cutting through the mineral tang of the water. She set it on the ledge, leaning back against the curved seat, her naked body half-submerged, scars and all, water lapping at her collarbone. The stars pricked the night sky overhead, and the patio lights dimmed to a soft glow, cocooning them in intimacy. Beth mirrored her, glass in hand, her athletic frame relaxed but close, knee brushing Elena's under the surface.

"Umm," Elena murmured, savoring the wine before her voice dropped into that reflective cadence, eyes distant as memory surfaced. "Bullet hole that was in my first tour. I was such a rookie then. Our squad was on patrol; the company had just taken the village. Dust everywhere, air thick with that post-fight haze. I was in the lead, stupid eagerness, thinking I could spot trouble first. This kid came out from behind a rock, no older than Preston maybe, blazing automatic fire. AK rounds zipping past like hornets. I caught one in the left shoulder." She touched the scar absently, fingers tracing the puckered skin above the waterline, the water swirling around her arm. "Thankfully, it went straight through, no bone or artery damage. Medevac got me out quick, but... I still get nightmares over that. The kid's eyes were wild, desperate. Wonder if he made it."

Beth's blue eyes softened, the wine glass paused midway to her lips as she absorbed the weight of it, the vulnerability Elena rarely unpacked so fully. She'd glimpsed the ghosts in Elena's restless sleep, the sudden kicks in bed, the murmured shouts, but hearing it laid bare hit different. "I've wondered what was bothering you when you kicked me in bed," she said gently, setting her glass aside. Her hand moved under the water, finding Elena's side, pinching the soft flesh there playfully, light, affectionate, breaking the tension without dismissing it. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Elena's scarred shoulder, lips lingering warm and tender against the old wound. "But you're here now. With me."

Elena turned her head, capturing Beth's mouth in a deep kiss, slow at first, then hungry, tongues sliding with the familiar heat that always simmered between them. The water sloshed gently as their bodies shifted closer, Elena's hand cupping the back of Beth's neck, fingers threading into the damp page-boy strands. It was a kiss of gratitude and fire, breaking only when breath demanded it, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling in the steam.

"The knife wound," Elena continued, voice huskier now, a wry smile tugging her lips as she pulled back slightly, her free hand finding Beth's thigh under the bubbles, squeezing reassuringly. "Well, that was just plain stupidity. Again, at base camp, Camp Loki, in the Kurdish region. Rough spot, alliances all over the place. There were some Israeli soldiers attached, tough as nails. This one lieutenant, she thought, was a pretty hot chick, all swagger and curves under that uniform. We were drinking after a long op: cheap whiskey, laughing about near-misses. Next thing, words got heated, egos clashed, and we're out in the sand, stripped to basics, the guys forming a circle around us. Wouldn't let us quit until there was a winnersome macho ritual bullshit."

She chuckled low, the sound vibrating through the water, taking another sip of wine before setting it down. Beth watched, rapt, her hand tracing lazy circles on Elena's knee, the steam curling between them like secrets.

"Someone threw in a knife, a big serrated thing, glinting in the floodlights. We both went for it. She got to it first, wild-eyed and grinning like it was a game. Slashed low, caught me just below the left butt cheek, burned like hell, blood hot on the sand. But I lunged, twisted her wrist, got it away from her." Elena's eyes darkened with the memory, a flash of that Special Forces edge resurfacing. "I made her pay dearly. Got a trophy  her right nipple. Clean slice, nothing fatal, but she howled. Handed it to her commander as a 'gift' afterward. He laughed, called it even. Stitched myself up later; scar's a reminder not to mix booze with bravado."

Beth's eyebrows arched, a mix of shock and amusement flickering across her face, her fingers now exploring the scar in question, a light touch over Elena's hip, dipping just below the water to feel the raised line on her butt cheek. "Jesus, babe... you're full of stories that'd make a movie. But that fire? It's why I love you." She poured refills from the bottle, the wine glugging softly, then clinked glasses again, their eyes locking in the bubbling warmth. The night deepened, scars shared like bridges, pulling them closer in the hot tub's embrace.

### Revelations in the Bubbles

The hot tub's jets pulsed like a heartbeat, the steam rising in lazy spirals as Elena set her wine glass down with a soft clink against the ledge. The shared stories hung in the air, vulnerabilities traded like treasures, but now Elena's dark eyes gleamed with a playful hunger, the earlier intensity shifting to something more immediate, electric. She reached for Beth under the water, hands finding her wife's waist firm, guiding, pulling her closer across the bubbling surface. "C'mere," Elena murmured, voice low and teasing, maneuvering Beth to straddle her lap, their naked bodies aligning face-to-face, water sloshing between thighs and bellies.

Beth settled in, her athletic frame fitting perfectly against Elena's, knees bracketing hips, the heat of their skin amplified by the tub's warmth. Their breasts brushed in soft, slick contact. Elena's nipples were already pebbling from the cool night air, kissing the steam. Beth's hands rose instinctively, cupping Elena's breasts, thumbs circling the stiff peaks with deliberate slowness, pinching lightly then rolling them between fingers. Elena arched into the touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips, head tipping back against the tub's edge as pleasure sparked down her spine. "God, yes," she breathed, her own hands roaming Beth's back, tracing the curve of her spine to grip her ass, holding her steady. The play was languid, exploratory, her blue eyes locked on Elena's, watching every flicker of response, her pinches turning firmer, tugging just enough to draw a low moan.

They lingered like that, the intimacy a bridge from past shadows to present fire, wine forgotten for the moment as Beth's fingers teased and tormented, nipples hardening further under the attention. Elena's breath hitched, but her smile turned mischievous, one hand sliding up to tangle in Beth's damp page-boy hair, pulling her in for a quick, nipping kiss before easing back. "Okay, honey," she said, voice husky with arousal and amusement, eyes half-lidded but sharp. "Time to come clean with some of the nasty things that go on at your investment firm. I want to know how you learned some of the bedroom tricks you do in bed, as if you picked up that tongue work or the way you ride me from your Economics class."

Beth paused mid-pinch, a laugh bubbling up, surprised, delighted cheeks flushing deeper than the wine could account for. She didn't pull away, though; her hands stayed on Elena's breasts, thumbs still tracing lazy circles as she leaned in closer, lips brushing Elena's ear. "Tease," she whispered, nipping the lobe before pulling back to meet her gaze, the water lapping at their joined forms. The question hung playful but probing, turning the tables, Beth's turn to unpack her own hidden edges, the corporate world's underbelly mirroring Elena's battlefield scars. The night deepened, their bodies entwined, ready for truths wrapped in touch.

### Confessions in the Currents

Beth's fingers stilled on Elena's breasts, the playful circling pausing as the question lingered in the steam, her blue eyes flickering with a mix of reluctance and mischief. The hot tub's jets churned softly beneath them, water swirling around their entwined bodies. Beth straddled Elena's lap, skin flushed and slick. Then, with a deliberate tug, Beth pulled on Elena's nipples, pinching and twisting just hard enough to elicit a sharp inhale from her wife, the sensation shooting straight to Elena's core. Elena's dark eyes hooded further, a low growl rumbling in her throat, but she held still, letting Beth control the moment, the pull sending ripples of pleasure-pain through her.

"Okay," Beth breathed, releasing the nipples with a gentle flick, her hands sliding down Elena's sides under the water, thumbs brushing the curves of her hips. She leaned in closer, lips grazing Elena's jaw, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But it doesn't leave this hot tub, okay? Promise me."

Elena nodded, her hands steady on Beth's ass, squeezing reassuringly. "Sealed in the bubbles, babe. Spill."

Beth traced idle patterns on Elena’s thighs, a small laugh escaping. “A top brass vice president at Goldman Sachs pulled me in for cryptocurrency projects during my internship. She was a hot Jewish woman from New York, all sharp suits and sharper wit. Dark hair, legs for days. We’d go out to dinner, schmoozing clients or unwinding. One night, it escalated. Back to her Upper East Side apartment, bottles of vintage popping open. I was inexperienced, and she showed me oral sex, both with her and her brother.”

Elena's eyebrows arched, but she stayed silent, absorbing it, curiosity sparking hotter than judgment. Beth continued, her voice gaining a husky edge, cheeks pinking under the patio lights. "I mean, I never had a cock before, and well... she and her brother were great teachers. Patient, intense. It was this whirlwind that was guiding my hands, his groans filling the room. Opened up a whole world I didn't know I was missing. That's where some of those tricks come from, the way I know just how to tease and take."

Elena took another sip of her wine, the glass cool against her lips, savoring the floral bite as she processed the raw honesty. Setting it aside, her hand moved under the water slowly, purposefully sliding up Beth's inner thigh, fingers finding her pleasure zone with unerring instinct. She circled Beth's clit gently at first, then with firmer pressure, drawing a gasp from her wife as Beth's hips bucked involuntarily into the touch. "Mmm, teachers, huh?" Elena murmured, voice teasing, thumb stroking in rhythm with the jets. "Explains the confidence. But keep going, I'm invested now."

Beth moaned softly, grinding down against Elena's hand, her own fingers digging into Elena's shoulders for balance, nipples grazing Elena's with each shift. "Okay... what about the pictures on my refrigerator? With my three sisters?" She paused, catching her breath as Elena's fingers dipped lower, teasing her entrance before circling back.

Elena nodded, her free hand cupping Beth's breast, thumb mirroring the underwater play on her nipple. "Yeah, those beach shots, all of you looking way too close. Spill."

Beth smiled, wicked and warm, leaning in to nip Elena’s lower lip before pulling back. Her body trembled under touch and memory. “This is between us, okay? Since high school, our mom has been going through a rough divorce. Dad left, and with money tight, she wanted us to learn about our bodies properly. She tried to protect us from bad choices. But my sisters and I found pleasurable ways passed down by our grandmothers and mothers. It’s an Eastern European tradition: sisterly bonding, exploring together, no boys involved. Gentle, intimate stuff fingers, mouths, learning curves, and rhythms passed down like recipes.”

She arched as Elena's fingers pressed deeper, sliding inside her with a curl that hit just right, water making everything slick and seamless. "I know you like them," Beth added, voice breathy, grinding harder now, her hand dropping to Elena's breast again, pinching in retaliation. "As I can always make you scream in bed?"

Elena's laugh was low, throaty, her movements quickening under the surface, fingers thrusting in time with Beth's words, thumb relentless on her clit. The steam thickened, wine glasses fogging on the ledge, their confessions weaving into the pleasure like threads in a tapestry. The night air hummed with their shared heat, boundaries blurring in the hot tub's embrace.

### Playful Pursuit

The hot tub's jets thrummed on, a steady undercurrent to the rising heat between them. Elena's fingers worked Beth with expert precision, curling deep inside her as Beth's hips rolled in needy rhythm, breaths coming in short, shared gasps. The confessions had stripped them bare, not just in body but in secrets, the steam carrying their laughter and moans into the night. Beth's hand tightened on Elena's shoulder, nails digging in just enough to mark, her other palm flat against Elena's breast, thumb flicking the nipple in time with the thrusts below.

Then, with a mischievous glint in her blue eyes, Beth leaned forward, her page-boy hair dripping water onto Elena's collarbone. She nuzzled close, lips brushing the shell of Elena's ear, voice a sultry whisper laced with wicked humor. "You know, if you keep that up, I'll have to show you the full Goldman Sachs presentation, starting with that strap-on in the nightstand."

Elena froze for a beat, then burst into laughter, deep, unrestrained, the sound echoing off the patio fence like a release valve on the tension. Her fingers stilled inside Beth, the surprise turning to delight as she pulled her hand free, splashing a wave of warm water right into Beth's face with her other palm. Droplets flew, catching the patio lights in a sparkling arc, Beth sputtering and blinking through the cascade, her laughter joining Elena's in a harmonious peal.

"You cheater!" Beth exclaimed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, but her grin was wide, feral. She rose from Elena's lap in one fluid motion, standing tall in the tub, water sluicing down her athletic frame, breasts heaving with mirth and lingering arousal. With controlled steps, careful on the slick edge to avoid slippingshe hoisted one leg over the side, then the other, grabbing a towel from the nearby chair but not bothering to wrap it. Naked and gleaming, she bolted toward the sliding glass doors, her bare feet padding quickly and light across the cool patio stones, laughter trailing like an invitation.

Elena was right behind her, surging out of the tub with a splash, water streaming from her toned body as she snatched her own towel but let it dangle unused. Her longer strides ate up the distance, dark hair slicked back, a predatory smile on her lips, the chase igniting that old Special Forces spark. "Get back here, intern!" she called, voice playful thunder, bursting through the doors into the warmly lit bedroom, the king-sized bed waiting like a promise under the soft glow of the bedside lamps. The night air chased them inside, cool on heated skin, the pursuit dissolving into tangled limbs and breathless anticipation.