It's not like they haven't done this before. It's just that they haven't done it...well, at work.
There's a small, half-empty prop room that Bridget discovered earlier that day, and they have a whole fifteen minutes before the next take, and Bridget has been giving Tabrett bedroom eyes all day whether the cameras are rolling or not, and Tab decides that, for the sake of the production, Bridget needs her like this -- on her knees on the cool concrete floor, next to a table with a collection of dacras and a small mountain of agiels, pushing up Bridget's miles of skirts. The costumes on this show were most definitely not designed with quick and furtive activities of a sexual nature in mind, Tabrett has learned. "This is," Bridget begins, and her breath catches when Tab yanks down her underthings. "This is going to have to be quick," she works out, hands already threading in Tab's hair as Tab nips at the strip of red hair over Bridget's pussy. But she bats the hands away, raising her brow at Bridget.
"Makeup will notice," she warns, and Bridget groans repentance, hands flying away. "Make yourself useful and hold Kahlan's skirts up," she adds with a grin.
So Bridget does, and Tab wraps hands around the soft skin of Bridget's ass and goes to work with her tongue. She knows what Bridget likes, knows what all women like, and she can't help but be a bit of a tease even with their...schedule. So Bridget's entrance gets all of her attention, and Bridget's clit goes achingly ignored. Besides, Tab has always liked fucking girls with her tongue. Bridget moans and groans and pants above her, constantly shifting, hips leaning forward into Tab's mouth, and her pussy even clenches when Tab's tongue delves deep.
She adds fingers, because unfortunately this does need to end sooner rather than later, and the fact that she's knuckle deep in her co-star's pussy, sucking on her clit, has never failed to arouse her and now is no different. She curses Cara's restrictive leather, not for the first time and not for the last -- it always feels so hot and tight on her skin when she's turned on. Which has been markedly often since they updated Bridget's costume with those incredible thigh-highs and those slits in her dress...
"Tab," Bridget breathes out above her, legs shuffling, "Tab. Oh I'm close, Tab, just..."
And Tab twists her wrist, crooks her fingers in Bridget's tight pussy and fucks her tongue just right against Bridget's clit, and Bridget moans loudly through tightly sealed lips, hips jerking wantonly as she comes right into Tab's mouth, silky heat clenching around Tab's fingers. Tab knows it was an exercise in control; Bridget is a bit of a screamer in bed, something she's always found equal parts hot and humorous.
Then it's her turn, and a breathless Bridget urges Tab's back to the wall before she kisses her senseless -- Bridget's always loved the taste of herself on Tabrett's tongue. She unzips the front of Tab's costume to the waist and spreads the lapels wide so she can suck on Tab's breasts, can tongue her tight and sensitive nipples. Tab turns her face up into the room's single harsh light, and her eyes flutter shut as Bridget slips a hand down her front, finding her slick and hot between her thighs. There's not much room for Bridget's hand to work in Tab's skintight leather pants, but she does her best and manages to give Tab three fingers to the knuckles, and it feels so good Tab could nearly sob in relief.
Bridget kisses her again, slow and sensual, her tongue soft in Tab's mouth like she's searching her soul, but her fingers are fucking Tab's damp pussy so hard that, well--
It's...echoing, around the close metal walls, that wet sound at Tab's thighs.
"God, you're wet," Bridget whispers into Tab's mouth, and her hand's rhythm somehow increases, the heel of her palm grinding into Tab's clit.
"Your fault," Tab groans. "What's with those looks?"
"I've told you," Bridget says, nipping at Tab's lips as she fucks her. "Kahlan has a thing for Cara. I think it's the cleavage in that leather."
"Uh huh," Tab mumurs. "Bridget...oh, wow. Keep..."
Her hands reach abortively for Bridget's back, holding the woman close, and she inhales, and bites down on the strap of Bridget's corset and comes, hissing out a breath, and comes and comes around Bridget's thrusting fingers.
Bridget pulls them free, and grins as she holds them up shining wet. Tab rolls her eyes and grabs her gloves from the table, still catching her breath.
That's when a distant and muffled, but rather loud, voice from a megaphone reaches their ears through the prop room door. "Bridget Regan and...Tabrett Bethell needed on set." There's a pause, and a squawk. "Bridget Regan and Tabrett Bethell. Thank you."
The women look at each other. "Oh shit," Tabrett breathes, zipping up her chest.
"Hair?" Bridget asks urgently, running fingers through it and patting it.
"You and your hair," Tab sighs, grabbing Bridget's arm and opening the door. "Come on."