“Discipline’s only a crime when it’s enforced by somebody with the sensitivity and judgment of a rock,” said MacGyver.
Curled up in her favorite arm chair, Tank couldn’t help but agree with the mulleted engineer. It was a peaceful afternoon and the whole world seemed to be taking a nap. Even the sunlight just trickled in and pooled on the floor, heating the room with a gentle glow.
“Is that a paperclip? You can do a lot with a paperclip. You can…”
Tank didn’t find out what you could do with a paper clip because a loud snore interrupted Mac’s words of wisdom. Rigel was passed out on the couch. Clad in tight black jeans and a thinning wifebeater, she was all muscles and curves, dark shaggy hair falling into her face as her red lips parted to unleash a noise loud enough to distract from Mac’s latest escapade.
Watching people sleep wasn’t the sort of thing Tank was usually given to, but it was tough not to look at Rigel’s toned limbs and cute curves. Rigel was quite gorgeous, and whilst she was asleep she could even be described as mostly harmless.
Not a day went by that Tank didn’t struggle with the desire to give into temptation and accept Rigel’s frequently playful offers of physical intimacy. Rigel was sexy as hell. But she was also volatile and rebellious and even a little emotionally stunted at times. Maybe if she grew up a little… maybe when she was older… maybe…
Tank’s daydreams were interrupted as Rigel woke herself up with a particularly loud snore, at which Tank made a quick and concerted effort to move her eyes away from Rigel’s posterior and back toward MacGyver’s mullet.
“Urgh,” Rigel said eloquently as she came back to consciousness, her dark hair tussled about her face. It had grown a bit and was almost down to her chin, well, parts of it were anyway. No two strands of hair seemed to be quite the same length and she also seemed to be taking a great deal of pride in not washing it so that it hung in a greasy wet style around her face. The thick mascara and eyeliner she’d applied the night before was now smeared around her eyes, giving her the appearance of an indecently attractive panda. “What time is it?”
“Three pm,” Tank informed her. “Rough night?”
“Late night,” Rigel agreed, stretching her toned arms out to their fullest length. “Ick,” she said, slapping her lips. “I taste like an ash tray.”
“You left early last night,” Rigel said, turning on her side and clutching the throw pillow under her head. “How come?”
How come indeed. There was no way Tank was going to tell her the real reason she’d left Toni’s shortly after ten pm, because watching Rigel hit and be hit on was just too damn gut wrenching. The way some women looked at her, there were wolves more refined than that. “I was tired,” she lied.
As Rigel digested that piece of banal information, Tank repeated the reasons in her head why it was wrong to be chasing Rigel. For starters, she was too old, there was at least a decade between them. For seconds, she was too old. For thirds…. She made a grunt of annoyance and stood up. Even MacGyver was failing to mollify the open wound that was her unrequited feelings for Rigel.
“What’s wrong?” Rigel caught her shift in mood instantly.
“Nothing,” Tank said. “Why don’t you go shower.”
“Yeah, alright.” Rigel slid off the couch and strutted past Tank with a cocky little grin, wafting cigarette smoke, booze and cheap perfume that sure as hell wasn’t hers. Tank shuddered to think how she’d managed to earn that scent signature. She smelled like she’d been rolling in loose women.
Fighting jealousy, Tank retrieved a beer from the fridge and returned to the couch. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom down the hall put images of a naked Rigel in her head. Toned lanky limbs covered in slick suds, bubbles running between small, firm breasts and perky nipples that just begged to be licked…
“Hey, where’s the soap?”
Tank looked up to see Rigel standing in nothing but a pair of very tight, white and somewhat wet underpants. She must have gotten splashed by the shower before getting in. Her upper body was bare, her breasts every bit as delightfully succulent as Tank remembered them.
Tank took a thirsty swig of her beer before answering. “If you’re going to keep living here, you’re going to have to start wearing clothes around me.”
“What’s the matter, Tank?” Rigel grinned and folded her arms under her breasts so her nipples were presented front and center. “Can’t handle a little friendly nudity?”
“I’ll friendly nudity your butt if you don’t quit teasing me,” Tank replied. “The soap is under the sink, where it should be.”
Rigel turned around, displaying her tight round rear as she wandered away, putting a little more swing into her hips than was strictly necessary. Tank groaned to herself, remembering all too well what lay under those white panties. It took all her moral fortitude not to chase Rigel down the hall and smack her ass until she pleaded for mercy, then strip those panties off her body and have her way with her, long and slow and….
BOOM! On screen, a propane tank exploded, sending a rocket made of paperclips and broken dreams through the locked gates of a terrorist encampment. The close up shot of MacGyver’s sooty celebratory grimace quickly terminated any further erotic thoughts.
“Thank you,” Tank murmured to the television, saluting MacGyver with her beer. “Perfect timing as always.”
In the sequel to Training Rigel, irrepressible and eminently sexy young dyke Rigel is settling into a more secure lifestyle under Tank’s watchful eye. That doesn’t mean she’s immune to getting into trouble, especially as she explores a new world of topping others. Meanwhile, Tank tries to shake her attraction to Rigel and searches for love that doesn’t come with a severe attitude problem.
Part lesbian romance, part tale of a top in the making, Chasing Rigel delves further into the histories of the characters first introduced in Obeying Rigel.