Posted: September 2004
Title: Itchy
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS (Femslash)
Characters: Miranda Otto/Cate Blanchett
Rating: R
Warning: Crotch-scratching
Beta: Haleth (thx so much for the encouragement)
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened.
Summary: Miranda has a personal problem.
Notes: Don't try some of this at home, folks.

*****

"What the hell is with you today?" Cate asked the squirming Miranda. "You've been scratching yourself as much as all of the Fellowship members combined, which, as you know…" She trailed off. No need to state the obvious. "Do you have crabs or something?"

Miranda turned pink but denied it.

"Well, what then? You're starting to embarrass me."

The slightly shorter Miranda adjusted the thin strap of her bikini bottom over her right hip for the tenth time, to make sure the tan lines were matching. She saw Cate watching so she did not go for the surreptitious scratch.

"Yeast infection?" Cate guessed again.

"Oh, gross." Miranda screwed up her face. "And no."

"Then what?" Cate demanded again.

Miranda looked both ways before answering, "Stubble."

"What?"

"Stubble!"

"Ok, way too much information." Cate's guileless blue eyes snapped open.

"Well, you asked! And don't tell me that's worse than crabs."

Cate snickered. "Why don't you just go into the water or the bathroom to scratch? Get it out of your system." Somehow the mental picture of naked Miranda sprawled somewhere, hand between her legs, doing whatever with that hand, made an appearance in Cate's mind and would not leave.

"I'd probably scrape myself bloody if I could, but you know, I think Eowyn bites her nails," Miranda bit out sarcastically, oblivious to the dirty thoughts in the other blond's brain. She showed Cate how the make-up crew had chipped her fingernails to the quick. "At least Galadriel has enough to scratch with, even if they're not all that long."

"I don't think Galadriel itches, but I suppose she could help you out," Cate said thoughtfully, but with a touch of playfulness.

Now the other woman went wide-eyed. Cate laughed at her. "No? I thought you were throwing me some kind of come-on."

"Honestly…! I just itch." Miranda growled the last word.

"So let me scratch it."

Miranda considered. Perhaps the whining was unnecessary, but it wasn't one-hundred percent unjustifiable. The irritation prickled like dozens of tiny mosquito bites all concentrated on her most sensitive parts. She's tried a chopstick, a stiff-bristled hair brush, the end of a wire hanger, and her own useless fingernails. As a last resort, she'd taken a deceptively small but fatally-sharp paring knife from her kitchen drawer and tried its edge. It had taken over half an hour to carefully scrape, but not cut, her stinging skin. The cool blade and its point felt dangerous, deliciously deadly. It had been all she could do to hold still while the tickle was edged away hair by hair and millimeter by millimeter. Yet that was temporary as well, no more lasting than any other method.

So that is how Miranda found herself in Cate's beach house, spread-legged on the coolness of the terra cotta tiled bathroom floor, propped up with her back pressed against the other blond Aussie actress. Cate had wasted no time in divesting what scraps she still wore, grabbing a hand towel and dusting the remaining grains of sand off herself. She said nothing, only smiled and patted the floor directly before her, and Miranda went without question. The sun had kissed their skin to nearly the same light gold tan. They were a tangle of pretty arms, legs, midriffs, and all that flowing sunstreaked hair spilled onto the floor. All that broke up their golden synchronicity was the yellow two-piece covering freckled, sweated, itchy skin.

Cate looped both arms around Miranda's waist, and her long, shapely legs to the outside of Miranda's to start with. The woman's shallow breathing fluttered past Miranda's damp hair and her left ear. In a businesslike manner, Cate's right hand with its clear-varnished, rounded nails crept into Miranda's bikini bottoms and felt around experimentally.

"These giving you grief, eh?" Cate asked, amused, petting the patch of soft, short bristles she found.

"Goddamn right!" Miranda yipped.

"Take these off, then." Cate instructed; she pulled and snapped the side band over Miranda's right hip, revealing a strip of lighter skin, "and we'll see what we can do about it." Miranda lifted her bottom and wriggled out. With her big toe, she flicked the rolled-up lycra across the room.

"Cute!" Cate reached around Miranda and down, curled her index finger, and scratched, high up. The nail scraped over hair follicles, skin, and blond little spikes. Miranda seized a sharp gasp in, and then her throat clamped down against her airflow, just like a chimney flue being damped against the wind. She knew firsthand, that, if done properly, this itch-scratching would turn her into a squirming, writhing quasi-sexual horde of raging nerve endings. But could one even be in such a state in Cate's presence? Undeniably, the woman was very nude with her fingers in private places, but Miranda had started it by her unladylike behavior. As she struggled to hold herself still, back rigid, toes curling, she bit a tiny slice into her lower lip.

Increasing the number of fingers she was utilizing to four, Cate scratched gingerly over Miranda's rather little-girlish mound of Venus. There was a spot right over the place where the slit started, that seemed to need the most attention. Every time she pulled a nail across it, Miranda's whole body would give a tiny lurch.

"Oh, god… Cate! Harder!" Miranda gave in and groaned like she was in the throes of passion. Well, she might as well be. Already, this was feeling superior to a lot of ‘real' sex she'd had. A startled Cate paused for a moment to catch her bearings. "Please don't stop," whispered Miranda.

The elegant hostess decided she would continue this little byplay cautiously. Miranda was just as responsible as she for what this was turning into. How many women would consent to coming home with a girlfriend for a nice friendly little bush-scratching, no matter how dire the need? On the other hand, what kind of woman initiated that kind of scenario? She would, apparently. ‘Rings' had to be getting to her, too. No doubt about it: she must be joining the herd and turning temporarily gay. The turn of phrase she'd just invented made Cate snort, not to mention the entire situation.

"Lower," the needy Miranda panted. Her lower body was definitely twitchy now.

Cate dug all four fingernails down as deep as she dared without drawing blood, and raked them in short, rough strokes up one side of the other woman's outside lips and then the other; again; side to side and back to front. Miranda's hips jerked just a little at a time at first. It didn't take long before the woman to the front was rolling her hips in almost a perfect circle, or as close as she could while sitting. Her shoulders drew themselves up, and the shoulder blades came out, poking Cate uncomfortably in the chest. All of this wiggling and moaning was getting to her. A tell-tale tingle between her own legs began to need scratching of another kind. Her fingers were beginning to come back damp whenever she went down low; Miranda had to be in the same state or worse, even if it was supposed to be all about female jock itch.

At least Miranda seemed to be getting some relief. She was certainly getting bossier. "To the right; up; more; a little more…"

When Cate attacked that inch-square spot, the other blond's movements went from a restrained carnal shimmy to unmistakingly overt sexual gyrations. "Ah… ah… ah…!" Miranda hitched out.

She pushed her legs apart so far that Cate, looking down, could see sinewy tendons in her thighs bulging. The subtle striations in Miranda's dancer's legs began to shake. "Oh, shit!" Miranda hissed, as if she had finally just now become aware of what she was doing. Cate sidetracked her with more furious scratches right across her itchiest area till Miranda was again moaning and bucking her pelvis, shaking, as Cate's rounded nails picked up the residue of her arousal.

Until now, Cate had stayed strictly to the outside surfaces. The urge to touch further, to explore, to bring Miranda to her peak was like a shot in the belly. Her own fluids slicked downwards, drooling onto the floor under her naked curved ass. Partly for purchase and partly to hold the other actress still, to let her know who was in control, Cate wound her long legs over and to the insides of Miranda's. She prized them even further apart and planted her feet. Perfect setup, but she still asked permission. "The clit, Mir? Do you need that itch scratched, too?" Warm whispers made her quarry shiver all over.

"Mm-hmm," Miranda breathed. She placed a hand on each of Cate's knees. The skin was surprisingly hot and as soft as a baby's under Miranda's weather-roughened palms. Unthinking, she ran her hands over and over the silky smoothness till the rising force of arousal within her had her grasping at those limbs hard.

One long slender finger descended into the pink petals on each side of Miranda's swollen but still tiny center of pleasure. While pinned to the floor by Cate's legs, and good thing because she became a frenzied tornado of panting female lust, it didn't take much. Cate fingered the slickened inner flesh, flicking at the hard little nub. Like oil, Miranda's seeping juices eased every minute slide; her stuttering gasps gave way to sighing moans. As her peak neared, Miranda clenched down with all her might, pushing against Cate's ungiving legs and leaning back hard against her. She forced herself to be still; all she wanted was Cate's fingers to keep flicking at the tiny feminine shaft and head till she exploded and melted.

The nearly–climaxing woman pushed her bra up over the tender breasts and fondled her own aching nipples. Pinch! Nub between thumbs and forefinger. Twist! Adding a third finger, rolling. Pull! Pinch! Over and over again and fast, both sides, in tandem with Cate's left hand's digits forked around the jumpy little knot and right forefinger circling in increasing RPMs. Inside, she ached and tingled; the pressure was immensely sweet, finally giving way to sharp contractions of dizzy pleasure. Miranda fell over the precipice of her orgasm, with a noise like a sobbing hiccough. Her body lurched from where she sat, almost as if she would rise and run away. Trapped as she was by Cate's entwined legs, she arched her back, which, dewy with sweat, slid slickly against Cate's stomach and hard-tipped breast. Grinding against insistent hand and back against the woman's soft flesh, Miranda let it go on and on as it would.

Slowly, the spasms slacked off. The tight hollow of Miranda's back gave way; she slumped back into the arms of the woman who had so indulged her. Cate knew just when to back off. By now, she was caressing the velvet smoothness of Miranda's belly, then up to cup the sweetly tingling little breasts. Miranda shivered, just a rough little shiver to clear out the last measure of her post-orgasmic aftershocks.

"Did you get your itch taken care of, darling?" Cate purred, the voice of amusement. From her self-satisfied tone, one would have though she was the one who had just gotten off.

"My god, yes!" Miranda moaned, her voice still sultry with sex. She looked around to the side. "In more ways than one, too."

Silvery laughter rose into the air. "Well, I'm glad," Cate told her. With an, "Ugh, I'm getting old," she unwrapped her legs from the shorter woman's. Miranda had forgotten all about the forcible restraint. She'd been more than happy to just loll there, replete. Now that she was moving, her brain engaged, too. "What about you, Cate?"

"Oh, no, no. I don't want anything for myself." She stood. Miranda, turning, could see shiny moisture on the top inside parts of those long, lean thighs. Cate's normally pale skin bore a rosy flush, especially on her cheeks, neck, and chest.

"You sure?" Miranda queried. "I could, you know…" She stuck out her tongue and wiggled it. Slightly glazed light blue eyes studied the other woman intently.

Cate was torn, but, "No, this time, I was supposed to help you with your embarrassing personal problem, remember? I guess it kind of got away from us… Sorry about that."

"Sorry?!" Miranda squeaked. "For heaven's sake, don't be sorry!" She swiveled around on the floor so she could look Cate directly in the …Oh! It looked soft and silky, just like a ginger kitten… ok fine. She tilted her head back. Face. "Damn, girl, that felt so bloody good! I should be apologizing to you for getting all horned up. I tried to hold it back, to hold still; even with no fingernails every time I scratch enough to get past the worst of it, I find myself, um, ready to go, you might say." A rose-pink splotch appeared on each of Miranda's cheeks. "Ok, I admit it. I'm a perv. But really, it was mostly to do with the nails."

"Or at least to start out with," Cate countered. "But the bug got you."

"You're not talking about crabs again, are you?" But Miranda smiled slightly, then more as she tried to stand and found she had spaghetti legs.

"No, silly. We're going to have to put up with our own round of, how do I put this delicately, being bitten by the inexplicable desire for harmonizing dealings." She waggled her finely curved eyebrows, for all the world like Ian under all his Gandalf trappings. Miranda, who had acknowledged the urges for what they were long ago, though not in relation Cate, had to agree.

"Here, here. So, you still going to turn me down?"

"Uh-uh. But, as queen Elf Witch of the world, I do have my sensibilities, and one of those is a bed."

"Oh, so the floor was good enough for me, but you're too good for all that," said other actress, teasing.

Cate tilted her head back, and let roll her throaty, shimmering laugh. Her wide mouth showed two rows of sparkly teeth; Miranda would have sworn even the woman's teeth were sexy. The more she gawked at the naked goddess, the more her libido rose up with thoughts of plying her own tongue to every inch of that satiny skin. If she wanted ‘bed,' then Miranda could handle ‘bed,' as long as ‘now' was part of that thought.

"Nah, maybe later I'll let you fuck me into the floor," Cate said so casually Miranda was back to goggling. But she continued immediately, "Let's go bite that bug on the ass. Now."

And so they did.

*****

THE END

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