The long arm was already stretching out for her, too decisive to be ignored, and Alison found herself obeying like a puppet on a string. Sinking to the bed, she shivered rapturously as a hot-breathed whisper scorched her ear.
"I-I still don't feel-"
"Let's get relaxed now. Nice and naked, hmm? Come on. What do I have to do, seduce you all over again? Aren't you my favorite?"
A numbness pervaded Alison's flesh-and with it came the other thing, the overwhelming excitement of submission, the perverse thing that she dreaded but couldn't do without. Her clothing was already in disarray. And now she was doing it herself, undressing hurriedly and even trying to assist her lover. So that they could both be naked, all nice and naked ...
CHAPTER ONE
It sure wasn't like any of those jailbreak movies. What a time to be feeling sexy! And all by herself, too-maybe she was abnormal or something. Crouched low, well-hidden but still only hopefully invisible, she recognized the symptoms with a wry grin, a grimace of disbelief. Was it because of the danger? Could one kind of excitement stir up the other? Could the nervous throbbing of her heart have set off that tiny throb between her legs? More like an itch, really, an all too familiar itch. And she didn't dare move, not even to poke a finger down there and scratch it. Awful! This was the crucial moment. Just keep your fingers crossed ...
Huddled behind an empty crate, she held her breath as the small delivery truck slowed down to pass the guard stationed at the outer gate. The last guard, the last risk, the last obstacle to freedom; oh shit, if only her cunt would quit acting up! Then, miraculously, there was a noticeable surge forward-a routinely heavy foot on the gas pedal, no doubt-and she could grin for real, at last able to afford the luxury of a lovely scratch. They were through the gate. She was free. Talk about luxury! Free! Wasn't that the most luxurious of all luxuries?
Better not get cocky, though. There was more to be done. But at least she was outside the wall, safe and sound, and those spinning wheels were already leaving the reformatory far behind. Her escape was an accomplished fact. All that remained now was to duck out of the rear opening of the truck without being spotted. A simple enough maneuver, especially with nightfall coming on fast. No need to hurry, let it grow nice and dark first; why not stay put until they reached the turn-off, the highway into town? And meanwhile she might as well use the time to get herself organized.
Not that there was so much to organize. A name, mainly. Any name. Any name but her real one. From the instant she went through that iron gate back there, the inmate Genevieve Eichelberger had ceased to exist. And what a relief that was-an added bounty to an already bountiful day, this chance to change her dumb name. Let it be short and simple, even a bit common-all the more difficult to trace, all the more practical in her game of hide-and-seek with the law. The simpler the better, then-as far as possible from Genevieve Eichelberger, ugh!-easy to get used to, easy to spell, easy to sign, easy to work up some phony ID for. Something like Smith or Jones, maybe. Okay, why not settle for one of those? Smith. Jones. Mary Smith. No, that was a little too common. How about Judy Jones? Hmm. Not bad, not bad at all. Common, sure, but with a nice ring to it. Judy Jones. Kind of sweet, even. Demure. Nobody would suspect a cute little girl named Judy Jones of anything more sinful than a sneaky affair with her soapy washcloth under the shower. Such an angel ...
It was enough to make her laugh out loud. But she couldn't, of course, not with the unsuspecting driver so close. The poor dummy didn't know he had company. Holding it down to a silent chuckle, she mouthed the new name over and over again. And then-as though it had been hers since birth-that was how she thought of herself. Maybe there had been some kid named Genevieve Eichelberger stuck behind those grim reformatory walls, but that was in the past now. Ancient history. A happy girl named Judy Jones was off and running. And that was that; so much for her name. What next?
Clothing would be a problem. She wouldn't get very far in this gray denim outfit. But at least she had something to cover up with, right here in this precious bundle-a rolled-up trenchcoat, stolen hurriedly from one of the matrons. And inside it was the pair of plain leather sandals that they had let her keep and use for bedroom slippers. Not much for a young lady about to make a fresh start in life. But the breaks would come, she figured. They always did. The main thing was to recognize and take advantage of them. Be ready. Uh-huh. Ready for whatever came along. Like now, for instance. The truck had slowed down again; was it for the stop sign at the entrance to the big concrete highway? If so, this was the place to go bye-bye. She sure didn't want to venture into the nearby town of Wicklow, where an army of cops would be alerted the minute the alarm went out.
The truck creaked to a halt. Judy clutched her bundle and slithered over the tailboard, dropping out of sight to the darkness of the black roadbed. Then the wheels rolled again, onto the brighter concrete, and she was safe. Suppressing her exhilaration, she scrambled hastily down the embankment, down into the hollow created by the juncture of the road and the highway. And there, at last, sheltered by the friendly bushes and the still darkening sky, she gave vent to her long-pent-up emotion and burst into a fit of giggles.
She got it out of her system in a hurry, though. The price of freedom is vigilance. This wasn't the time to crow. Or the place, either. Up above, the traffic seemed fairly light, but there were plenty of cars whizzing by just the same; now she had to get lucky and flag a ride. But not in this damned uniform. Or any part of it. And she stripped quickly, taking everything off, since even the underwear would be a giveaway. The night air was comfortably warm and it felt good to be naked. But she couldn't stop to savor the sensation, not with so much work to do yet.
Uh-huh. Vigilance! She put the trenchcoat on. It was a trifle big, but the belt around the waist helped. She drew it tight and made a knot that was secure and yet managed to appear casual, an effect further enhanced as the leather sandals were fitted to her feet. Casual. All in all, she looked pretty good then, just a nice young kid dressed in a coat and sandals, scuffed-up but not really scruffy. Who would ever guess that she wore only her bare skin underneath?
It felt good, too. Kind of sexy. Wouldn't it be fun if she got picked up by some nice young guy who would want her body enough to sympathize with her awful plight? Enough to buy her some clothes, perhaps, after an overnight stop at a motel. She'd better not get her hopes up, though, it would probably be some ugly old geezer instead; wasn't that always the way? But what the hell, what she needed most was a ride, a nice long ride out of this danger area. And as for feeling sexy, well, that was nothing new these days. No, only the name was new, not the body, not her cunt, her itchy-drooly cunt. Get your hand out of there, Judy Jones, this is no time to be fingerfucking yourself ...
The admonition set her giggling again, a little guilty now, but she sobered immediately and finished her task. Wadding the reformatory shoes and underthings inside the gray denim dress, she jammed the whole mess into a crack between rocks in the embankment. It would be discovered eventually, no doubt, washed out by the rain, most likely, but she wouldn't be around when that occurred. Anyway, she was glad to ditch the drab stuff, the last link to that poor dumb what's-her-name, the dumb bunny who had gone out hunting for thrills and wound up behind high walls and locked gates. It could never happen to a smart babe like Judy Jones. Never!
She climbed up and trotted across the highway during the first break in traffic. Then, buoyant with optimism, she scanned the oncoming flow of cars headed away from town. The direction was all she cared about, her destination was as yet undecided. Anywhere would be fine, just so long as it was miles away from Wicklow and its county reformatory. Miles away from here.
A number of vehicles went by before the right one came along. A car with a single occupant, so that witnesses to her escape might remain at the minimum-just the guy behind the wheel, nobody else. And it was the right one, sure enough; she heard brakes begin to squeal the instant the driver got a peek at her raised thumb.
"Hop in, young lady."
"Uh-huh ... " Judy hesitated momentarily and then slid onto the front seat. "Thanks. Thank you very much."
She wondered if her choice of cars wasn't a mistake. The driver was a woman. Not an uncommon occurrence, really, but still an unforeseen development in her plans. She knew how to handle men. But who could tell about women? Like the matrons in the reformatory. Some were okay, probably, but she just didn't trust them-and this one was definitely an unknown quantity. Better play it cagey at this point, real cagey, just watching and waiting ...
"Going far, my dear?"
"Far enough. I haven't made up my mind yet."
"Oh?" The woman smiled, her eyes on the road ahead as the car picked up speed. "I hope you're not running away from home."
"Nope. Nothing like that." Judy made up a story in a hurry. "I'm just traveling. I left a drunken stepfather behind me, and I'm thinking about visiting my aunt in California."
"California. You do have a distance to go. But aren't you rather young to be hitchhiking alone?"
"I'm older than I look. And more experienced, too. Don't worry, I can take care of myself."
"If you say so. Incidentally, my name is Vera. Vera Carlisle-and I live in Malvern. That's where I'm going now. It's west of here, a hundred and fifty miles or thereabouts, so we're certainly headed in the right direction for you."
"Yeah. Thanks. That's great."
"And how about you, my dear, won't you tell me who you are? Not that I'm inquisitive-at least not overly so-but since we're riding together I'll have to call you something, won't I?"
"Oh. Sorry. Call me Judy. Judy Jones."
"Judy Jones. Glad to know you, Judy. And glad to have you aboard, I must admit. It's a long and weary drive to Malvern, and a bit of company will help keep me awake."
Nodding happily, Judy relaxed and settled back into the comfort of the cushioned seat. She had it made. A hundred and fifty miles on her first hitch-and with someone who seemed absolutely safe now, someone who might even make the journey pleasant. Someone who just wanted company; what luck!
She peered at the woman surreptitiously, a sidelong glance out of the corner of her eye, quite impressed by the vision. Some solid body there, big and ripe and bulging with sex appeal. Beautiful hair, too-auburn, it looked like, auburn hair piled high on her head almost like a crown. Blue eyes, evidently, although it was hard to tell for sure in this light. Nice features, though, no doubt about that, and her creamy skin had a kind of glow to it. Pearly. Iridescent, that was the word. Uh-huh. For an old dame-late thirties, at least-this Vera something-or-other was impressive, all right. Carlisle? Yeah, that sounded like it, Vera Carlisle. Pretty gorgeous, in a maturely stacked way. Hardly the typical housewife. And rich, of course, judging by her clothes-and by this car, not new but still quite a buggy. Judy wondered what it would be like to live like that, never worrying about money or security. Dull, maybe. And then again, maybe not. Considering her own lousy life in the slums and behind reformatory walls, who was she to say?
Her eyelids drooped after a while, and she began to feel the effects of the long day. Like a steel spring losing its tension. And then, somehow-even with her eyes closed-she knew the woman was looking at her. Surveying her, looking her over carefully, more so than should have been necessary by now. She could almost sense that auburn head turning, the quizzical gaze shifting back and forth between the windshield and herself. As though there was something peculiar involved, something out of the ordinary ...
Slowly, imperceptibly, Judy's eyes became narrow slits. She was being ogled, no doubt about it. A patch of her bare thigh was showing. And that seemed to be the target for those intermittent peeks. It might have stemmed from mere curiosity, admittedly, but she had already caught a more complex intimation. Was it possible that she had been picked up by a dyke?
She experimented with the notion, allowing more leg to show, squirming a little to maneuver the flap of the trenchcoat. And then the reaction came, the sound, a near-stifled gasp, just audible enough to confirm her suspicions. Lesbian! Or a reasonable facsimile. The woman might not bear the name, but she was sure playing the game-still casting those too-curious glances, still ogling her young flesh, still coming on like a dirty old man.
Okay, what about it? Judy pondered the issue. She wasn't exactly unfamiliar with gay games, the girl-girl stuff, having played around herself back at the reformatory. It hadn't been much, though, just a little halfway measure to let off some steam when the kids got all moony over memories of their boy-friends. She had always steered clear of anything more serious, avoiding the butchy types who really went in for that sort of thing. Not that there wasn't plenty of it going on, in spite of the strict rules and regulations. There were even some wild rumors about the matrons, for that matter, although most have them had been real dogs, too fat and ugly to be interesting even if the situation got desperate.
But this one now-this Vera Carlisle person- was neither butchy nor repulsive. Playing games with her might even be fun. And she was rich, wasn't she? Why not turn a predicament into an advantage? Let her ogle the fresh young meat then, let her get all hotted up and hopeful; wouldn't a rich bitch like that be generous with her loot at the right moment? She sure looked like a soft touch. Couldn't she be persuaded to help a sweet young kid replenish her wardrobe? A few extra bucks would sure come in handy. The idea would have to be broached gently, of course-in a roundabout manner, the subtle approach-not like a whore dickering with her John. Even if it did amount to the same thing in the end. Judy was well aware of the commercial value of her body. A man would have been willing to pay for it. And wasn't a dyke something like a man?
Again she shut her eyes, nestling into the seat and letting the coat ride high on her thighs. But she wasn't so sleepy now. Just worn out from the long day. Worn out but wide-awake-and wondering about the long night ahead.
CHAPTER TWO
The highway ran straight and smooth. The car practically drove itself, and Vera's grip on the wheel was relaxed and restful. But nothing else felt that way. Only her hands. The rest of her body was a mass of tension. Because of the girl ...
And because of the length of pale thigh that gleamed so bewitchingly in the dim light from the dashboard. How could she relax in the presence of such tempting flesh? It was like a glowing beacon that demanded her attention. So exciting! The bare thigh and everything else. So young! No longer an adolescent, perhaps, but not yet a woman. Hardly more than a child, really, and yet the little devil exuded a certain erotic sensuality. The mop of curly brown hair, the piquant heart-shaped face, the deep brown eyes now concealed by thickly fringed lids; what a paradox that such a kitten-like creature could seem so sexy.
But there was no other word for it. Sexy. Despite her incomplete development, the kid was already exquisitely endowed. Her breasts were small, but the nicely formed conical shapes jutted enticingly. And there was no hint of teenage spindliness in those lyrelike curves accentuated by the knotted trenchcoat belt. Even when the traffic grew heavy enough to require some concentration, Vera couldn't keep her eyes from drifting over to take stock.
Hmm. Take stock? The obtrusive thought made her wince. But she was doing it, just the same-measuring that body and imagining it naked in bed. Asinine, to say the least. As if she had designs on the sweet young thing. After all, she was much too involved with a sweet young thing of her own- not quite so young, of course, but infinitely sweeter. And her sweet Alison was a known quantity, pretty much, not a vague figure in the night like this intriguing but cryptic roadside waif.
It did make the journey less tedious, though. Delightful to look at, delightful indeed. And stirring, too, in spite of the mixture of fatigue and despondency resulting from that long conference with the lawyer in Springfield. At the moment, it was even easy to forget money problems and such. Good for morale, actually. Wouldn't it be fun to find some excuse to stop somewhere and explore the possibilities of this chance encounter?
Vera grunted in disgust, shaking her head resolutely and returning her gaze to the road. What a monstrous idea! Seducing a little girl, a child almost. She refused to let herself think about it. What was she looking for, trouble? A poor homeless hitchhiker: How awful! It made her feel like some lecherous old man, the type that hung around schoolyards and led children into debauchery. Only a lecherous old woman was even worse ...
"Uh, ma'am?"
"Oh, you're awake. But you needn't call me ma'am. My name is Vera, remember? Did you have a nice nap?"
"Uh-huh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to doze. I'm supposed to stay awake and be good company for you."
"It's all right. No apology necessary."
Even though the girl's eyes were open, there was no change in her posture; the alluring leg-show remained uncovered. Now the display seemed purposeful rather than careless, and Vera wrinkled her brow in perplexity. No, this wasn't exactly a picture of childish innocence that she was seeing. More like a calculated coyness, surely. Or was that just her own overstimulated imagination?
Food for thought, anyway. Up until now she had peeked at that bare flesh and felt the desire and analyzed only herself, strictly introspective in attitude. But the time for introspection had run its course, apparently. The situation had altered somewhat, giving her the right to take a more objective view. The kid might have been feigning sleep just to exhibit her body, allowing it to be looked over and sized up without embarrassment. And if so, then what about the rest of her story? That tale of the drunken stepfather sure sounded phony. Lurid, really, the kind of melodramatic thing a young mind would invent as a cover-up for something else. Even that mention of the aunt in California had been brief and indefinite enough to be spurious.
Vera shrugged. It was none of her business, of course. Except that the youngster's odd behavior was making it so. There was more to this "homeless waif than met the eye. Although what met the eye was certainly plenty provocative in itself ...
In front of her, the windshield blurred suddenly as a spatter of fat raindrops struck. It took her by surprise, coming from out of nowhere, just a big blob of water at first. But more followed, soon becoming a pattern as the car moved into it. She turned the wipers on and her vision cleared as the blades came to life and clicked into monotonous motion.
"Hey, is that rain? Funny. I could have sworn the stars were out just a little while ago."
"Uh-huh. Must be a squall, Judy. I didn't expect it myself, either. I'm not fond of driving on a wet pavement. You're dressed for it, though, in case it gets chilly. That trenchcoat should keep you nice and warm. Lucky girl ... "
"Yeah. Lucky, that's me." The accompanying giggle was shrill and humorless. "Oh sure, nice and warm."
As the tinny laugh was choked off, Vera flashed a quizzical glance in time to see the pretty face go momentarily grim. She watched the road after that, adjusting the windshield wipers busily. But now she was more conscious than ever of her young companion. That mirthless snicker, almost a sound of derision. The sullen expression, the oddly sarcastic tone of voice. Why? What had brought it on? Something about the raincoat?
It took a while to sink in. And a few more sidelong peeks in that direction. Then stark realization came with a wallop, an impact that set her taut nerves atwang. Although she still couldn't quite make herself believe it. Imagination again? Underneath the coat-was the kid naked!
Try as she might, Vera couldn't recall having seen any other garment. Nary a scrap of fabric, above or below. A blouse or dress or sweater would have been visible at the top. Even the smallest miniskirts would have obstructed the view of that bare thigh. But there was nothing like that, nothing at all. Just the tightly belted trenchcoat and those simple leather sandals.
Well, maybe there were some bits of underwear inside, hidden from sight. Bra and panties, quite likely. But anything more substantial would surely have showed; the light from the dashboard was bright enough to reveal that much, at least. Nude, then? Or nearly so? Incredible as it seemed, she could no longer doubt it. Her highway pickup was wearing damn little-if anything-beneath that coat.
Desire flared anew, hot, lustful, a thing of torment. A thing of need. Vera felt her insides churn with excitement. What kind of girl would be out at night dressed like that? Not an innocent one, oh no, not any more innocent than the deliberately bared thigh or the obviously contrived sob-story about a drunken stepfather and an aunt in faraway California. This was no Little Miss Muffet who would rise up shrieking in alarm at the approach of some predatory spider. No indeed, this kid had probably abandoned the sanctity of her tuffet ages ago.
The rain was coming down harder. Vera hit the window buttons, running the glass panes up tight into their insulated channels. It affected the air circulation immediately, walling off outside drafts and permitting an interior humidity to build up. She could smell the girl now. And herself, too. Odor mingled with odor, musky, ruttish, intoxicating, cunty ...
A battery of lights blazed up ahead, vaguely recognizable even from that distance. And then the familiar restaurant sign. A big place-bus stop, cafeteria, gasoline pumps, motel cabins-she had stopped off there before on her comparatively frequent trips between Malvern and Springfield. It loomed out of the dark downpour like an oasis in the dry desert. A wet but very welcome oasis at the moment-for reasons that she refused to admit even to herself. No matter. Weren't there some other, more legitimate reasons to pull in?
"Oh, good. I know this place. Let's see now, do we need gas? Umm, no, I guess not. But the food isn't bad here, if I remember rightly. Are you hungry, my dear? I'm going to stop and rest for a few minutes-until the rain lets up, anyway. And meanwhile we'll grab a bite to eat."
"I-I'm not very hungry."
"No? Just a sandwich and coffee, then. I insist. And it's my treat, of course."
"Well, uh, maybe a little something. Is it a drive-in?"
"Drive in? With carhops carrying trays out, you mean? I'm afraid not, Judy, we'll have to go inside for service. But don't worry, I'll park right up close and we can make a dash for-"
"No. Thanks just the same, I'd rather skip it. You go. I'll just sit and wait in the car."
"Come now, that's silly."
"Please. I'd rather. If you don't mind."
For a while, Vera focused her attention on maneuvering off the highway and into the parking area. Then, cutting the engine at last, she pondered momentarily and got the full significance of this stubborn and somewhat irrational show of reluctance. Her pickup was afraid to enter the restaurant! Whatever the reason ...
Because of the way she was dressed? Possibly. But she could keep the trenchcoat on without looking conspicuous. So it had to be more than that. Whatever the reason, the kid seemed desperately anxious to avoid the public eye. No doubt about it, she just didn't want to be seen.
And the reason, the only plausible reason? Vera went hot in delicious anticipation, despite the clammy atmosphere. This cute little youngster was evidently on the run. Some sort of fugitive. The stepfather yarn might even be true, in that case, but it didn't alter the immediate situation at all. Judy Jones was stuck. Afraid of being recognized, she couldn't risk an appearance outside the car. Nor would she dare try to hitch another ride anywhere near this brightly lit place of business. If ever a kid needed a helping hand, this one did, yes indeed-and wasn't she lucky to have found someone with just the hand to offer? Wasn't it a bit of luck for both of them?
On the pretext of peering out, Vera leaned over and patted the bare knee casually. "This nasty rain. If it doesn't let up soon, I might just spend the night here. The cabins are supposed to be quite comfortable. They're out back-private, you know? Oh well, we'll see. I can't make decisions on an empty stomach. Sit tight, honey, I'll rustle us up some food. Here goes ... "
She slipped away hastily, aware of the stunned gaze and avoiding the questions that were bound to follow. It was something to think about, the idea of an overnight stay, and she had managed to drop the bomb without committing herself. Better yet, she no longer minded that "dirty old lecher" feeling now. It had a special thrill, this thing she was contemplating, deliberately setting out to seduce a young stranger in the night. A wicked thrill, sure, but her qualms of conscience had all been erased back out there in the car. Any girl who thumbed a ride wearing just a raincoat could only be considered fair game, regardless of age. A man picking her up would have made that assumption, certainly, why not a woman? Ah yes, it was thrilling to play the huntress on the prowl, the huntress stalking her prey. Especially when the prey was so appetizing a tidbit. Why worry about conscience at a time like this?
Conscience? Appetizing tidbit? Vera's head cleared, aided first by the rainy air and then by the busy brightness of the big cafeteria. Wasn't she getting her priorities screwed up? Such a treasure, that kid out there, a priceless nugget; how stupid to squander it on a quick thrill, a one-night stand. Why not make use of her? The seduction would have to wait. I'm thinking with my head now, not my clitoris. If the girl was afraid to be seen, why put her in danger here, why hang around and invite trouble? No motel cabins, no quickies, no sex for the sake of sex alone. A woman with money worries couldn't afford to waste her resources. Money worries-and a maid about to quit, a very necessary maid, essential to her plans. Where would she ever find another Solange? And then what would happen to the Alison scheme? It would all come tumbling down like a house of cards.
Okay, then, no wasted resources. Wouldn't the little runaway make an ideal houseguest? For a few days, anyhow. Perhaps even longer. A cute little play-toy to amuse Solange and keep her from quitting. Which, in turn, would allow more time to work on Alison. So maybe the lawyer in Springfield wasn't so smart after all, maybe there was a way out ...
Laden with sandwiches and coffee containers, Vera braved the elements again and returned to the car. It looked empty, giving her a panicky moment or two. Then she breathed a sigh of relief as the curly head popped up and the door swung open. Thank heaven! Nice to be able to trust her own judgment; the kid was still here.
"You're loaded. Wait, let me help."
"Thanks. I didn't see you. Watch the coffee, it's hot."
"I-I was just relaxing. You took so awfully long in there."
Vera shrugged, disguising her more immediate reaction with the business of apportioning the food. Just relaxing. That too was probably a fib. The scared youngster must have ducked down to avoid the notice of any customers entering and leaving the restaurant, few as they were in this weather. Judy Jones definitely had something to hide. Even her name might be a phony.
"Mmm, good. I sure appreciate this. But, uh, about what you said a while ago. You know. Vera? Are you going to take a cabin and stay over?"
"I'm giving it some thought."
"Don't you have to get to ... uh ... "
"Malvern. But there's no hurry, at least not for me. What about you, dear? Must you keep traveling? I dread the idea of putting you out to hitch a ride in this miserable rain. Are you in a rush to get to California?"
"N-no, not really. Uh, my aunt doesn't even know I'm coming, so another day won't make much difference. But the rain isn't so bad now. And besides, I couldn't afford to pay for a-"
"Hush. You'd be my guest. If we stay, that is. But you're right, the rain does seem to be letting up. Hmm. I wonder. If there's really no hurry about California ... "
"Ma'am? I don't understand."
"Why not be my guest anyway? At home, I mean. Never mind the cabin, we won't need it now. We'll drive straight through and you can spend a few days with me. Won't that be better? Especially if that nasty stepfather of yours comes chasing after you. He might have notified the police, isn't that always a possibility?"
"Well ... yes ... "
"In that case, you ought to lie low awhile. You'd be safe with me, much safer than on the road. And I'll help you get started when it's time to leave again. There now, how does that sound?"
"Sounds great. You're sure I won't be any bother?"
"No bother. I've got a maid who never has enough to do. I know she'll just love taking care of you. It's settled then, okay? I'm ready to roll-and wide-awake now, the coffee really worked. After you've finished eating, why not take a little nap? Just curl up and forget your troubles, my dear. You're in good hands."
"I-I am kind of tired. But if you want me to stay awake and talk and keep you company ... "
"We'll have plenty of time for that later. All the time in the world, hmm? Go to sleep now. I've got a lot to think about, something private and personal. I'm trying to gain some new perspectives on an old problem. Too complicated to explain, even to myself. I'll just mull it over while I'm driving."
CHAPTER THREE
Vera Carlisle's problem was complicated indeed. Her third husband, the late and unlamented Gustave Carlisle, had left her "comfortably" well off, but she was hardly the type of woman to live within such limitations. Especially since she had expected more, an inheritance of a certain magnitude, in keeping with the mansion and its surrounding property. And with the Carlisle name and social position, of course. All of which was hers now-plus the insurance settlement-but it still didn't amount to much, not nearly enough to cover her hoped-for standard of living. Alas, the real estate was mortgaged. And with her monthly stipend so small, she was finding it difficult just to keep up appearances. How awful to look so rich and be so poor!
It would all be coming to a head soon, too. A second mortgage was still possible, but her lawyer in Springfield had advised against it strongly; what would happen to her when that money ran out? His advice had been to sell the place while it still had value above its one mortgage, sell out now and live in comparative comfort all of her remaining years. Comfort, if not style. Or less pretentiously, at least. Regardless, it would mean the abdication and surrender of her social position-and what else, really, did she have in this world? It was her stock-in-trade. Surrender without a fight? Hell, no! In fact, she had already begun her campaign to brighten that bleak prospect; hadn't it brightened considerably tonight?
The rain-squall had passed over. Vera drove with confidence again, making time on the drying concrete pavement, paying only scant attention to her companion. Not that she wasn't conscious of the sleeping kid. Every detail of tonight's encounter had been sifted and catalogued in her mind. But the sexy feeling had faded somewhat, replaced by a sense of exhilaration, an almost smug involvement with her righteous decision. It was as if an invisible rainbow beckoned up ahead. A rainbow named Alison Laird, ah yes, lovely rainbow! Lovelier still for its pot of gold. Hmm. In a way, maybe rainbow's end had become more of an attraction than the rainbow itself ...
But no, that wasn't quite fair. Vera chided herself, recalling a certain unrequited desire for the beautiful young divorcee long before her money entered into the picture. Alison was small-boned and exquisitely formed, still youthful enough to wear her shining hair-yellow, the color of cornsilk-in a bob more suitable to a college coed. Short and straight. On her it looked good, though. But then, well, so did everything else. The velvety dark eyes, the rosebud lips, the ivory skin that so often took on a pink tinge: a true beauty, projecting a kind of innocence despite her tumultuous marriage and rather unsavory divorce.
Oddly enough, the innocence had never seemed phony-and that had always been something of a deterrent to Vera's hopes. But now that the old hope had been fulfilled, she could be less queasy in her quest for the new one. She had kicked off her last shackles of moral restraint and was no longer dubious about her role as the seducer and corrupter of all that innocent femininity. The role had become necessary to her future well-being-and wasn't necessity the mother of invention? In this dog-eat-dog world, she had to rise to the occasion and be strong and clever, reaching out to grasp every possible opportunity.
Ho-hum, the money again. The pot of gold. Which was only leading her back to the moans and groans of her worrisome plight. Couldn't she find something more cheerful to think about? Like the beginning of their affair, for instance, a time when the immediate money issue hadn't yet reared its ugly head. All rainbow, no pot. Mmm, yes, and such perfect timing!-just when her own expanded fling with her maid Solange had gotten a bit cloying, physically cloying. Anyway, she had sure been ready for it, ready to tangle at last with the obviously virtuous young divorcee whose very presence had tantalized her from afar. Ready to turn a chance meeting in town into an unprecedented invitation-oh-so-cunningly cadged!-to come and visit one evening soon ...
A lovely night, that was. A lovely night and a lovely lady to woo. Hardly more than a girl. All love, love, love! Not that Vera wasn't also impressed by the sheer wealth of the place. But that only made love all the easier, creating an atmosphere conducive to sophisticated romance. Even the wine they drank had been brought up from a private winecellar. Delicious, apparently potent. Just right to break down the barriers-and she pretty much took charge of it after the first few sips, handling the bottle quite unobtrusively while managing to keep both glasses replenished. It was bound to help. If help was needed. Things were going so swimmingly! She could even recognize a certain awe in the girl's attitude, doubtless engendered by a respectful curiosity about an older and more worldly woman's career as a model and sometime professional actress.
It was simple to steer the conversation into the area of true confessions, gaining a little unexpected insight from the story of the marriage gone sour. The charming young beau had quickly developed into a brutal husband, it seemed. Brutal in bed. Overly handsome, he must have tried to compensate with an overdone attempt to prove his own idea of what masculinity entailed. Or perhaps it was in unwitting resentment of his wife's inherited wealth, a matter of millions. In any case, the marriage bed became a place of torture, a ritual of nightly rape that lacerated Alison's body and all but destroyed her mind. Luckily she had extricated herself in time, suing for divorce and struggling back to sanity in her new-found freedom. But it had left its traumatic scars, naturally, one an emotional reaction that struck even as she told the story, a mild but noticeable slump into despondency. Related, no doubt, to her rueful attitude toward men.
Vera made an effort to snap her out of it. "Well, at least you've got your own name back. And this great big house to knock around in, hmm? And since there's never any worry about money ... "
"Pooh! Money. What good is money when there's nobody to enjoy it with? And this house. It's so huge. That's all I do, just knock around in it. I've only got those two old servants, the old family retainers, and I'll probably have to pension them off soon."
That was when the germ was first implanted in Vera's mind. She didn't do much thinking about it then. Just enough to perceive an abruptly added significance to this venture, a venture in more ways than one now. Too important to bungle, she recognized vaguely but with undiminishing conviction. And that called for a slower style of seduction, slow but sure, minimizing the risk of failure. An experienced seductress would test each step in advance, avoiding the painful but not impossible setback of a negative response. And who had more such experience than herself?
"Oh, listen." She cocked an ear toward the nearest sound system speaker. "I just love that tune. It's an oldie. Reminds me of my lost youth. Schooldays, you know? We used to dance to it, real romantic dancing, in a kind of swoony embrace, holding on to each other and maybe sneaking a feel in the dark corners. Or wondering why the bashful boy hadn't tried. But that was before the sexual revolution, of course, before it became so easy to get laid. Dancing represented an opportunity then, sometimes the only scandal-free opportunity to get chummy. The whole idea was sexy. Not like today, with the music so loud and two solo dancers in every couple."
"Hmm. And I thought today's dances were supposed to be pretty hot stuff. All those bumps and grinds ... "
"Sure, but where's the contact? The bodies don't touch any more. Just working up a sweat for later, I guess. Hey, you know something? That song. It was sexy even without boys around. Sexy to dance to, I mean. Like at an all-girl party, a slumber party where the boys could only be talked about- and imitated, when someone felt like dancing. It always got a little sexy, somehow."
"Just girls? Two girls dancing together?"
"You never did that?" Vera rose, setting her drink down and then extending her hand. "Shall we, my dear?"
"I-I'll try ... " Hesitant but game, Alison stood up. "But don't expect too much, the fruggy stuff is more my style. And I haven't done any of that lately, not since the divorce. The last time I danced was ages ago."
"Don't let it bother you. Just sway to the rhythm and follow my lead. Like this. It's even relaxing after a while. See?"
"Uh-huh. This is fun."
They were still pretty awkward together, but the inspired girl soon shed her initial clumsiness and gained confidence. She murmured it again, funnn, a delighted little gurgle in her throat. Affected by the wine, probably, letting the gurgle grow to a shrill giggle as she got real daring and lunged for the light switch when their flowing dance movement covered the distance to the far wall. A somewhat gingerly lunge. But effective nonetheless, ending in a twist of the dimmer knob that controlled the entire chandelier, every hot-eyed bulb in that great overhead garland of crystal. And the normally spacious living room turned abnormally cozy, bathed in an erotic glow all of a sudden, caressed by those now-tiny twinkling stars above, now only bravely reminiscent of that glaring crystal monstrosity. Or bright work of art. Or whatever. The big chandelier, however spectacular, was still at the mercy of one small and unassuming switch, a rheostat-and one small twist of the wrist: now you see it, now you don't. A change in historical perspective, just like that, an instant shift from the baroque to the romantic. Vera found it all too thrilling, this suddenly conducive atmosphere. There was even some hint of mystery now, a feeling of shivery togetherness in their unspoken pact against the dark night-creatures blending with the darkness, the vampires and werewolves lurking in thick shadow just outside the glow, the periphery of safety. Mildly entranced, she simply let the conversation die and then had to flounder around to pick up the threads and start it again.
"Yeah. It's fun, isn't it? You're right about that." Not much of a thread to work with. Then again, maybe not so bad. "It would be even more fun with a man, though. Not a real man, if you're still a little uptight about that. A gigolo, let's say. Just a perfect dancing partner, otherwise a blank. Tell you what, honey, just shut your eyes and pretend, huh? And as long as we're pretending, I'd better play my part and hold you closer."
The dainty blonde divorcee succumbed with a sigh as Vera renewed her embrace and added a subtle tightening. Her ears caught the sound of a faint second sigh, different this time, a sigh of pleasure untainted by passive resignation. She accepted that as a personal commendation, a tribute to her slowly evolving artistry. It did feel nice, this let's-pretend dance, only there was no pretense about the way their softness seemed to mesh and merge from breast to belly to thigh, a fusion of sweetly fitted parts.
Less cautious now, Vera lowered her head until their cheeks touched, almost by accident. They brushed again. And then once more, at last maintaining the delicate contact. All accidentally on purpose, of course. She even managed to use her breath to further the cause, her warm breath tickling a sensitive ear. Their shared excitement burgeoned. Beyond the point of no return? Too soon, too soon! Better safe than sorry. She was glad when the interruption came-a break in the music, then a more demanding tempo-glad to seize upon it as an excuse to sit down and consolidate her gains. And to guzzle some more of that potent wine between them, a wine as conducive as any romantic atmosphere.
"Delicious. I envy you your winecellar. But aren't you drinking, my dear? I just poured for you. Hey! Honey? Is that a blush on your cheeks? Because of our dancing together? It's sure pretty, whatever it is-kind of an overlay of rose on ivory. Alison, you are one gorgeous doll-baby."
"I know, I know. Just keep on like that and I may never stop blushing. But you were wrong at first, it wasn't a blush. At least I don't think so. I just felt a little bit warm, that's all."
"Oh? Stupid me. I misjudged you. Just a little bit warm, was that it? And here I've been thinking something else, something quite different. I figured maybe you liked what we did, only now you're ashamed of it. Ashamed of your own feelings, mostly. And it's just too silly. You'll soon have me ashamed of mine, I liked it, too, I enjoyed holding you in my arms and dancing with you. Trying to recapture my girlhood-impossible but lots of fun. And if that makes me a fugitive from an analyst's couch ... "
"No, really-can't I just feel warm? I'm sorry. Such a little thing to argue over, that's what's silly. I'm ready to compromise. Or capitulate. Or choose up sides and start over again. Or none of these, if that's a right answer. Multiple choice, okay? You'd rather mark your ballot in private? Sorry, madam, the private voting booth just closed. Regulations, you know. No, we can't open it up just for you. Not even in a democracy. So don't ask. You want us to lose our license?"
Vera grinned. "I'll compromise. Before you snow me under. Now let's see, where were we? Ah! I remember. I had just finished pouring the wine. Uh-huh. Your glass is still full. Quitter. Now you expect me to drink alone? Shameless hussy. What kind of multiple choice is that? Come on, drink up, don't let me down. A little glass of wine never hurt anybody."
"I-I'll probably get giggly."
"So what? Giggly is fine. Even giddy. You're too serious most of the time, especially for such a pretty girl. Maybe you just don't giggle enough. Something is sure as hell wrong, wouldn't you say? Alison? You could have a date every night in the week. A pretty baby like you. With that face and figure-stunning, simply stunning-you'd have your pick of the available males. And some of the other kind, too, the sneaky ones. Oh shit, this room ought to be carpeted wall-to-wall with men just for you to walk on. Barefoot. Or in stiletto heels, if that's your mood. A harem of men, all handsome, all the big handsome bastards you'd ever-"
"No! No men. I'm not going through that again. You can keep your big handsome bastards, thanks."
"Aw, they're not all bad. You got stuck with a lemon. I do understand, though." Secretly exultant, Vera leaned close enough to make physical contact there on the sofa, fondling a dimpled knee sympathetically. "It must have been rough on you, expecting sweet thrills and winding up with a lot of bruises."
"I'll get over it. That one, anyway. But there's more to it, I'm afraid-since then I've worked up a grudge against men in general. They're all alike. Every guy I meet undresses me with his eyes. To say nothing of strangers, just fellows on the street. Those obscene looks! The dirty leers, dirty, dirty. Afterward, I can't wait to scrub myself clean under a hot shower."
Vera nodded her understanding, her sympathetic accord. No leer on her face, certainly. But she was doing it just the same, undressing this chaste vision with her eyes. Peeling the garments away from that luscious young body, those delectable young breasts, the shapely length of leg, all soft and velvety. Lips atingle, she pictured the sweet little creature naked in bed, the velvety thighs parted and trembling, yielding to her touch shyly but ever so sweetly, opening upon the soft pubic cleft, the sweet cunt-lips, all soft and velvety and steeped in sweetness. Sweet, infinitely sweet. Everything. But then, well, it really wasn't necessary to leer like a dirty old man to have similar dirty thoughts. Dirty, dirty. Obscene! Deliciously obscene ...
CHAPTER FOUR
"Mustn't blame them too much, darling. It's your own fault for being so beautiful. So darn attractive ... " Vera's casually caressing hand went tense. "Hey, look at me. I couldn't even keep my paw off your legs." Snorting in self-derision, she slackened her grasp and let her arm go limp.
Alison stopped the hand in its slide. "That's different. It's just being friendly when girls touch each other. No lust. Just a way of showing affection."
"Thanks. I'm glad you're not embarrassed. Like you might have thought it was a pass, you know? I just hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of your friendliness-because I do enjoy touching you like this. Even here, just like a horny old man, isn't that awful? Pretty thighs. Skin is so silky-smooth. I must be a real sensualist, huh? Or else maybe very affectionate. But as long as we both know it's not a gay pass ... "
"A g-gay pass?"
"Come now, you can't be that innocent. Haven't you ever had a woman try to get fresh with you?"
"Oh. That."
"You're familiar with it, then. Tell me something, Alison-didn't you ever experiment a little yourself? Fool around with another girl? Or maybe just let a girl like that-"
"No! Never. And I never want to. But that doesn't mean I can't have an open mind on the subject. As a matter of fact, I'm just dying to hear more about those parties. When you were just a kid-the slumber parties, the girls dancing together, remember?"
"How could I ever forget? You want to hear more, eh? Better have some wine first, you'll probably need it. Makes a wild tale sound even wilder." Vera's silky-smooth caress tightened playfully, squeezing hard enough and high enough to elicit an instinctive squirming reaction. "Oh, you're mean to make me go back that far. I don't even know how to begin. Ah well ... "
Dredging up ancient memories, she launched into a haphazard account of the all-girl pajama parties that somehow always seemed to get a bit bawdy. It never failed: one of the girls would start imitating a boy for laughs, and pretty soon everything they said and did had a kind of sexual connotation. As if the fake boy-of-the-moment constituted a threat to precious virginity-perhaps even a welcome threat, considering the imitation circumstances.
Recounted with more respect for accuracy, the bits and pieces would still have amounted to an interesting personal narrative. But she soon recognized the noticeable effect on her audience, sufficient reason surely to stretch the truth here and there. What was the harm in a wee bit of embroidery? She deliberately tossed in a few heated episodes, including her own participation in one. Although-to be on the safe side-she kept the details of that one rather vague and shadowy. Just in case ...
"Vera? I'll bet you were the wildest of the bunch. Weren't you the leader? Weren't you-aren't you- kind of gay yourself?"
"Such a question!"
"You're right. Dumb question. I'm sorry. I guess it's none of my business, huh?"
"Oh, it's not all that bad. I'm not worried about incriminating myself. Some crime. In show business it's almost normal for a girl to swing that way."
"And did you ... uh ... "
"Hush. Let me keep my secret."
"Aw, you're just teasing me. Can't you be serious?"
"Okay. Serious. I just adore pretty little blondes like you, my dear. Better be forewarned. I might seduce-"
"You-you really are! You're a lesbian!"
The word exploded like a violent curse. Silence fell, except for the music, somewhat intrusive now. Then, slowly, just as the shock faded like an echo of a lost cause, Alison rose to her feet and began swaying to the rhythm. She smiled wistfully, blushing, and then extended her arms in a resolute gesture.
"Dance some more?"
Vera caught her breath. The cause wasn't lost yet. She started moving to the beat-a slow wriggle of hips-even before her body came up out of its sofa-cushion hollow. Still apart, they fell in to step together. She reached ahead to stroke the golden hair, letting her fingers trail gently down the rose-petal cheek, the delicate throat.
"Darling? You're not afraid of me?"
"Uh ... a little nervous ... "
"Hmm. You know something? I'm a little nervous myself."
That brought them into the embrace, laughing. And then they quieted down and concentrated on their dancing momentarily. It was peaceful like that, but Vera could no longer settle for any slow-but-sure seduction. Her breasts ached, the nipples in an anguish of anticipation. Time to expedite matters! Or at least carry on and keep the kettle boiling.
"Dreamy, isn't it? Alison?"
"Dreamy ... "
"And this time I'm not a man, not a gigolo, not an imaginary male dance-partner. But we're still not doing too badly, are we?"
"S'wonderful. Who needs men?"
"Not me. I've had three husbands and a dozen lovers and far too many casual rolls in the hay. And believe me, they're all alike when it comes to taking care of that thing between their legs. One is as selfish as the next. Men. A grab, a pinch, a slap on the ass-and the courtship is over, right? Come on, baby, let's you a?id me fuck. Oh shit, you'll have to forgive the vulgarity, it's the only way I can really talk about the horny bastards."
"It's okay. The b-bastards ... "
"So here we are, just the two of us. No men. Two women dancing together; what a scandal if it ever gets out! And what a lovely secret if it doesn't, hmm?"
"Lovely ... lovely secret ... "
"And all ours. Our own private secret. Even more private than those old slumber parties. Girls in pajamas, remember? Or sometimes without. I mean without a stitch. But they were comfortable, those kids, a lot more comfortable than we are right now. Let's take some clothes off and have our own slumber party."
"Huh? Clothes? Don't stop. Dance with me. Vera? Dance with me, dance with me, around and around and around ... "
"Who's stopping? Just slowing down, that's all. So we can get comfy. Real comfy, maybe. All nice and naked. Wouldn't you like that, darling? Naked? Just the two of us?"
"N-no ... please ... "
"You don't want to?"
"I-I'm still nervous. Just plain scared, I guess."
"Silly. Alison dear, there's nothing to be scared of. Except that it's new to you, of course. That's always scary."
"But won't it be like-like ... uh ... "
"Like that dumb ex-husband of yours? Not at all. Women are softer and sweeter-and yes, sexier-than an inconsiderate male. Only a woman can understand a woman's needs. Just like I understand you, my angel. I'll know how to please you. Your body. A climax like you've never had before."
"Oooh, that's exciting. I'm not so afraid now. When you talk about it like that ... "
"Turns you on, eh? Feel it in your cunt?"
"C-cunt?"
"Just wait, you'll see. First maybe I'll slip a finger in, so soft you won't even know it's there. Up your cunt, your sweet cunt, right up inside it. You think you'll like that? Only you might just be impatient, though, impatient for you-know-what. Impatient for my lips. My tongue. My kiss. Kiss your cunt, make you come, make you come all over the place ... "
Vera's voice choked up. The blood coursed madly inside her, demanding surcease, telling her she had gone too far to take no for an answer now. She went to work swiftly, unfastening a few blouse buttons and tugging the garment free. From within the wispy bra the young breasts seemed to be speaking up, pleading for release, seeking a way out of their concealing, constricting imprisonment. As though the body had recognized its need while the brain was still debating ...
"Yesss. Do that. Undress me?"
An admitted need now. Vera liked that. A shared need, of course-but she managed to retain a certain poise, resuming her rapturous task with a deft touch. Her hands, like separate entities, became almost businesslike in their precise gestures. Buttons, hooks, fasteners, zippers-and other assorted defense-mechanisms-fell before her adroit onslaught. And soon the finely molded figure was disrobed, its ivory-and-gold glory enhanced to perfection by an innate charm, a glow of youthful femininity.
In frantic haste then, she tore off the garments that shackled her own tortured flesh. And they danced again, together, naked, turning their dance into a total caress. Vera could sense the awe, almost a kind of worship, that this demure divorcee felt for her, and was abruptly aware of how simple it would be to twist that emotion into sweet surrender. It was already happening. A kiss. Mouth to mouth, an exchange of aphrodisia, very gentle. Gentle but wet. A wet kiss in the guise of gentleness. Intoxicating. Into an erotic languor now, a weakening of knees and subsequent tumble to the floor, all in slow motion. Collapse to the carpet. Still kissing. Still engrossed in that total caress ...
"Mmm. Vera?"
"Hm?"
"Are you going to ... uh ... "
"I'm going to be good to you, darling. You'll see. I'll take you into another world, a whole new world of excitement, a world beyond your wildest dreams. You'll love it. And isn't that what you really want? What you've been hoping for?"
"You know. Cunt ... kiss ... c-cunt ... "
Even then there was something girlishly demure about it. A demure revelation. But a revelation nonetheless, a whopper of a revelation, and Vera wasted no more time on prophecies and promises; didn't she already have a promise to fulfill? That one? She moved quickly and decisively, her mouth involving itself in a prolonged kiss of the utmost intimacy, a hot-mouthed dalliance upon the pink pubic lips of that enticingly scented slit. The cunt of her seduced lover! All but kissing back at her as she nuzzled right in and proceeded to kiss it into ecstatic submission ...
"Oooh!"
"Hold still."
"I-I can't ... "
That alone, the depth of response would have made the evening a considered success. But when the supple young body writhed around and twisted toward a newly intimate end-and when the lovely golden head bent to a reciprocal suck-kiss-well, a seduction this successful could only be viewed as a genuine triumph. Vera redoubled the intensity of her own sophisticated kiss, using all the cunning at her command. She had to bind her victim close, making this untutored novice truly appreciative of the subtle splendors of the lesbian embrace. It was a time to take possession.
Already an accomplished fact, practically. Vera rolled solidly into the upper position and then tried a small test, easing off the heavy pressure of her crotch against the upturned face. Immediately she felt the soft frenzy of hands, clutching, tugging at her hips in an effort to reseal the sexy contact. And from beneath her, only partially muffled, came a wail of sheer urgency.
"Oooh ... let me ... please ... "
Postponing it seemed even sexier, somehow. She resisted the downward pull, letting her wet cunt hover above that hopeful mouth. Sweetly pursed, no doubt, that sweet rosebud mouth; ah yes, and wasn't it thrilling to evoke such a response? She could feel the golden-haired head lifting itself, the pretty face straining, all to permit those exquisite pink lips to browse once again and at last attach themselves to her flesh. That was her sign, her signal, and she gravitated back deep into the engulfing contact, raising her head tentatively at first and then triumphantly a moment later, ending the kiss of her own lips to concentrate on that far more important caress down there. After a while she smiled and began to sway and squirm around and rock to and fro on her voluptuously wedged-in perch, touching the abandoned little muff with her fingers now, a kind of sportive play to keep the shy neophyte stirred up. Touching her, toying with her, stroking her, commending her, offering silent but significant praise for the almost greedy enthusiasm of that dewy-moist young mouth ...
A lovely night then, lovely indeed. Even as she tooled the car through thickening highway traffic, Vera couldn't put it out of her mind. Their relationship had progressed since then, of course, but she would never forget that initial thrill. Not even in her most lascivious dreams had she pictured such a consummation! How long she had waited for it, that beautiful face so completely at her disposal, those perfect rosebud lips ministering to her lust; how marvelous to expect nothing and gain everything! Oh yes, she had done well that first night, discovering a passionate sensuality inside the shell of deceptively virtuous demeanor. Recalling it always made her feel passionate and sensual herself. Hmm. Now she almost regretted the presence of mind that had cautioned against an experimental layover tonight. Such a sacrifice. It would have been fun to bounce this cute little pickup of hers on the bedsprings of a motel cabin double. But no, her self-sacrificial gesture could pay greater dividends later on. This way, well, it was like bringing home a gift of infinite possibilities-untapped, unprobed, untainted-still in its original wrapper. And wouldn't Solange be pleased?
CHAPTER FIVE
In all her short span of years, she had never known such sweet luxury. Not in real life, her own real life. In movies, sure, but even that hadn't been so impressive. Judy wallowed in the huge sunken tub, soaking in the scented water. The obviously expensive bath-oil made her skin feel smooth all over, slippery to her fingers; even the atmosphere was thick with perfumed femininity, contributing to this sensation of sleek elegance. And she hadn't even run the bath herself-a maid, imagine!-just like in the movie shows. Hey, it's happening to me! Who would ever believe it?
Not that having a maid around was such a big help. Almost kind of embarrassing, in a way. But that seemed to be smoothing over, too, now that Judy had taken the ultimate step, getting into her prepared tub practically under the servant's eyes. All with a properly impersonal manner-and a minimum of blushing, thank heaven!-no simple feat, what with the forced intimacy of stripping naked in front of a grown-up female stranger. Oh shit, she was glad to be alone again, left here to soak to her heart's content.
It was all worth the effort, though. Or so it appeared thus far in her stay, even if she still didn't know much about the place, the setup in general. This big house with almost no household help, for instance, just a single maidservant; wasn't that a bit odd? Too bad she couldn't ask a few pertinent questions and ease her curious mind. But that had become impossible now-and it was her own damn fault, of course, her own fault for being so smart. Last night. When it had seemed safer, and quite clever really, to cut off any further speculation about her phony relatives. Before the story got too involved. Let's keep the mystery, huh? Anyway, let's not swap personal histories, it's more fun to go on guessing. So don't tell me your secrets and I won't tell you mine. Okay? That did the trick, sure enough, but the cut had come from a two-edged sword, now preserving the mystery on both sides.
Still, she had seen sufficient to bolster her optimism-along with her chances for continued success. Everything looked pretty rosy here. Even aside from the luxury and such, this was a perfect hideaway, a discreetly noble estate on an insignificant rural road, all but invisible to any pursuing bloodhounds. The house was set back deep in its acreage, surrounded and well-guarded by trees and shrubbery and tall hedges. Perfect. No reason at all why she shouldn't hole up here for a while. Especially since the woman-both of them, mistress and maid-seemed so happy to have her.
Uh-huh. Why even think of leaving? After the rigors of Wicklow, this place was a paradise. And her hostess an angel. Why not relax and maybe enjoy this run of luck?
Not that Vera's designs on her were angelic exactly. That was already evident. But it wasn't going to be hard to take, Judy figured, nothing to get jittery about. Except that she couldn't help wondering when and how the first real pass would come-a quizzical note scarcely conducive to relaxation. Oh well, no hurry, better to cross that bridge when she came to it. Or jump off it, if necessary. And in the meantime, relax, relax, relax ...
She stretched serenely, setting the tub aswirl. Here and there the heat licked anew at her body, always finding some secret spot grateful for another tingle. One rounded knee poked through above the water, soap-flecked and shiny. It straightened slowly as the entire length of leg floated to the surface, a vision that she awaited and then examined with a certain impatient pride. How nice to have such pretty legs! Beautiful, in fact. She was beautiful all the way up, for that matter-just a shade slim where normal development was still in process. And that was filling in nicely. She even felt beautiful now, satisfied with her self-critical inventory, riding high on a flush of self-esteem.
To hell with relaxation; enjoy, enjoy-wasn't that the true purpose of life? She caressed herself lazily, starting at that same shiny knee and stroking upward along the buoyant leg, her fingers spreading an oily sexual lubricity of their own inside the sensuously vulnerable thigh. So soft, so silky to the touch. Kind of silly doing it alone though, halfway between a juvenile jerk-off and an adult ego-trip. Inspired by circumstance, no doubt, the erotic overtones of luxuriating in this sunken tub, this uniquely intoxicating atmosphere of the bath. Time to call a halt, then. No more fooling around down there, no more childish games, childish admiration of her own body. And anyhow, just what did she have to be so conceited about? Despite its promise for the future, her figure still hadn't emerged from the dopey adolescent stage. Not quite. Especially around the bazoom. Oh shit, compared to that monumental body of Vera's ...
But no, any such comparison was unfair. Vera Carlisle was built. Past her prime, perhaps, but still as appealing as a juicy-ripe peach in the warm sun. A peach ready for plucking-always at its peak, somehow-as often as it may have been plucked before. Hard to tell about that-how often?-it just didn't show. There was an air of dignified reserve about her, a postured understatement of temperament, like a low-key illusion to compensate for her flamboyant beauty. Because there sure wasn't anything reserved or understated in the purely physical contours and proportions of her body. That well-stacked flesh reeked of sensuality. It was voluptuous, deliciously opulent, the kind of flesh that begged for attention. It always looked so hot!
Hmm. This lesbian kick, how big could it get? Judy found herself in a sudden stew of puzzlement. With a pinch of spicy shock to add tang. Just thinking about that sexy creature had gotten her all aroused; wasn't it weird? It was almost like being with a close boy-friend. Or the suspense just before it, rather, the simmering anticipation of a fuck-date with a good safe stud. It used to get her tits quivery, the nipples sort of half stiff at least an hour ahead of time. Like now. Only she was thinking of a woman! And they didn't even have a date. So what does that make me, a sad gay girl?
Not a chance. Neither sad nor gay. She just happened to be the kind of girl who needed loving and lots of it. After all, the female machinery functioned better with frequent oiling. A man, a woman; who could afford to be choosy? Any attractive bed-partner would do. And in a drought, the partner didn't even have to be so attractive. Or even have a decent bed to share. Sometimes it was just a matter of matching impulse with opportunity. But those days-the reformatory, ugh, the days of desperation-were gone now, gone forever. She was sure of it, the way her luck was running. The perfect hideout. With a sophisticated and obviously sex-charged hostess for a bit of amorous diversion until she could safely seek out her old world of boy-friends and candy-daddies. But that didn't make her gay, of course. Not hardly. And if she wasn't gay, what was there to be sad about? Just so long as everything kept coming up roses ...
Giggling blithely, Judy summoned up energy to surmount her bath-warmed lassitude, rising to climb out and reach for a towel. Something intervened in mid-movement-a noise, a blur of motion, a sixth-sense recognition of another presence-and with one foot planted on the furry bathmat and the other still dragging from the tub, she stopped and swung her gaze in search. There, standing in the half-open doorway! The maid again. Solange. The very solicitous maid, returning to take up her duties once more. Or had she been there watching all along?
Their eyes met in silence. A reprimand might have been in order, but the words stuck in Judy's throat. Irrationally, her mind refused to function beyond the level of trivia. The woman's name, for instance, its unfamiliar pronunciation. So-lansh. Accent on the second syllable. And the woman herself, the only other member of the household, so far a model of stolid efficiency. French, supposedly, although her slightly hooked nose and swarthy complexion hinted of even more exotic origin. An ageless brunette type. Devoted to her mistress, apparently.
"Missy? Oh, you're getting out now. Let me help." Solange entered, plucking a towel in transit. "That's what I'm here for- you'll see. I'll take good care of you."
Again the silence pulsated as the towel was manipulated gently but firmly over Judy's dripping shoulders and arms. The scented atmosphere had become stifling all of a sudden. She wanted to utter some sound of rejection, to cry out against this unexpected invasion of her privacy. But the necessary organs still weren't functioning, and she finished pulling her legs together and stood motionless on the mat. Motionless but shaky inside. Silly. Wasn't it just a left-over feeling from back there in the tub? Caressing herself and mooning over her voluptuous lesbian hostess - oh shit, what else could she expect? No wonder she felt sexy.
It struck her then, a new notion, almost sickening in its enormity. The maid was devoted to the mistress. And the mistress was a lesbian! Wasn't there a certain conclusion to be drawn from that pair of facts? All the more so now. The way the towel was moving slowly, lingeringly - lovingly? - over her moist flesh. She clenched her fists, struggling to stave off dizziness. Like some kind of hypnotic trance almost. Her whole being was ignited, her stomach churning and her thighs quivering convulsively. And when the towel slid across to smother her breasts, she bit her lips to keep from sobbing aloud ...
"Missy? Are you nervous?"
"Well ... uh ... "
"It's all right. I understand."
Maybe the maid was merely trying to be helpful. Her voice sounded quite concerned. And there hadn't been any definite sign of a sexy pass, no indication that she desired more than to be of service. Was it all just imagination? Judy could only wait and wonder, momentarily soothed by the judgment that her own mind must have complicated this simple situation. Comparatively simple, anyway, although the novelty alone was enough to flutter her nerves. Oh shit, if only her tits would quit tingling! What now, was it starting all over again?
Uh-huh. Coming up from below, too. Tiny tremors climbing the calves of her legs. Sporadic flashes of sensation shimmering upward to tease and torment to the point of sheer persecution. Awful! As if there was some other ingredient to be reckoned with here, some unknown something that insisted on identifying itself. Judy wanted no part of it. Whatever it was. And abruptly she seized the towel from those busy hands and wrapped her naked body in its fluffy concealment, avoiding the dark woman's startled glance. She stalked out then, pausing only to pick up her borrowed robe, still clutching the towel around her like a skimpy but blessedly serviceable sheath.
CHAPTER SIX
Shivering in sweet anticipation, Alison Laird sipped her wine and tried somewhat unsuccessfully to curb her impatience. Oh, it was going to be another wonderful night! Just like last time. And the time before. It got better and better with every date-and already tonight's beginning seemed to be no exception.
Alison was naked. Naked and proud of her nudity, no longer the foolish little prude she had once been. Now she only wished her dear friend would hurry up and get naked, too. Her dear friend and darling lover! Not that Vera had far to go, with just those flimsy white panties on. Nothing else, nothing at all; even her bra was gone. Just that small pair of panties. But until the final garment came off, she would probably go on talking and telling stories-more friend than lover, darn it. Or so it appeared. Only when they were both naked would the night's ecstasies truly begin.
Meanwhile, though, the passing moments weren't exactly dull. The woman was so interesting, so full of witty tales about her old life as an actress and model in the big city. Stories about film stars and nightclub singers, the gossipy world of celebrities and such. And other kinds of stories, too, the kind that might make even a more experienced listener giggle and blush some. Not dirty stories, really, only just a shade naughty. But exciting, of course, and mostly in a sexy way, despite the obvious humor. Until at last Alison had to stand up and stretch and walk around, too agitated to remain parked in one place.
She refilled both glasses, using that as an excuse to rise and move about. But once the wine was poured, she just couldn't go back to that same detached position. Instead, impulsively, she sank to the carpet in front of Vera's upholstered chair, beseeching permission with her eyes and then resting her head against a big soft thigh. Squirming a little, she got comfortably settled on the floor-and on that satiny thigh; so delightful!- before glancing up to beg indulgence once more.
"You don't mind, do you? My sitting here like this?"
"Silly baby. I love it. Hmm. Reminds me of a girl I used to know. Way back when. Horny little slave-girl ... "
"Huh? A- a slave-girl?"
"Umm, well, something like that."
"I-I don't understand. Vera? Tell me about her. Was she one of the kids in those pajama parties?"
"Uh-huh. That's how it must have started, I guess, at a slumber party. Hard to recall exactly. Anyway, we soon got interested in having parties of our own-private, just the two of us-and that was when things became serious."
"What things? What do you mean, serious?"
"You know. Real lovey-dovey. But you don't want to hear about that, do you? Young girls cuddling together?"
"Just cuddling? You-you did say she was a slave-girl, didn't you? That's what aroused my curiosity."
"Oh. That. Let me think. Hmm. Funny. I can't even remember her name. It was so long ago. My first romance. Even before I had a steady boyfriend. Pretty little blonde ... "
"Blonde like me? Is that what reminded you?"
"Wait. It's all coming back now. Florence? Flossie? Flossie, sure, that was it. How we used to cuddle! Every day, right after school, sometimes at her house and sometimes mine. Only it wasn't just cuddling, of course. Not after ... uh ... "
"After what? Tell me, tell me."
"Honeybunch, I'm trying to. Only it's hard to remember. It just seemed to change, all of a sudden. Oh. I've got it. That first time-the first time we changed direction, I mean. I was patting her cheek, just being affectionate, you know? And then she grabbed my hand and kissed it. I figured that was just showing some affection, too-until she began licking me. With her tongue, all hot and wet and slippery, licking my hand; ooh, it felt nice. Only it wasn't just nice, not exactly, it was more of a dirty feeling, sexy but dirty-kind of a dirty little thrill."
"Sounds weird. Sexy-dirty ... "
"You said it. Weird. I sure liked it though, the way she was fawning over me. So what the hell, I just kicked off my sandals and told her to lick my feet, too. Just on an impulse. And she crouched right down and obeyed me, without even a whimper. Worshipping my feet the same as she had done to my hand. Both feet. Kissing them, one after the other. Sucking my toes into her mouth. Rubbing the soles against her face, her cheeks; talk about weird! Hey, look at my tits, the nipples popping out. See? I'll be damned. I'm getting excited just thinking about it."
"M-me too. Excited ... " Alison squirmed, almost afraid to glance up, turning her gaze ever so slowly. The vision sent an even stronger excitement streaking through her. Those huge breasts, the nipples already encrusted with passion; was there ever anything so beautiful? "Your little blonde slave-girl must have been fun. Tell me more, huh?"
"My little blonde slave-girl. Yeah. And that was just what she looked like down there on her knees in front of me. Even then, that was how I thought of her. My slave. Someone to do my bidding, whatever I wanted ... "
Vera's voice went on, somewhat indistinct now, murmuring to herself and then fading into reflective silence. A new noise became faintly audible, a rustle of motion. Alison gasped. Her excitement grew fierce, almost violent in nature. That hand-right there before her eyes-was it really happening? She couldn't see it clearly, of course, only as a big moving bump inside the white panties. Digging under the waistband and into that fleshy crotch. The fabric seemed tissue-thin now, stretched like that, sheer enough to show practically everything. The hairy auburn shadow. The pouting pubic bulge with its vertical gash, big, thick-lipped, parted and plundered by those marauding fingers ...
"Hey! What are you staring at? My cunt?"
"C-cunt. Love your cunt, love it, love it. Cunt!"
"You're not so bashful any more, eh?" Vera was smiling coolly, an expression belied by her heavy-lidded blue eyes. And by the slow writhing of her buttocks on the cushioned chair. But her other hand lifted the wine glass for an almost unconcerned sip. "You want to suck it a little? Yeah. I guess you do."
"Let me, let me."
"Good girl. Don't worry, you'll get your chance. My cunt loves that pretty rosebud mouth of yours."
The half-hidden hand appeared suddenly, coming up out of its nest. An invitation perhaps? Alison waited hopefully. But no, it was only a casual caress, a benevolent gesture of approval, the moist fingers touching her face, tracing tiny curlicue patterns on her chin and cheeks. They reeked of female flesh in heat; did it have to be that hand? Was the glass too important to be set aside?
Then, abruptly, her momentary vexation melted as the impact of the sexy reek struck a responsive chord. If she couldn't suck cunt yet, wasn't this an intriguing substitute? Nice cunty hand. She kissed it. Nice cunty fingers. She sucked them into her mouth. And when they pinched her tongue and pulled, she followed their guidance and lowered her head with a sense of exhilaration, all but tasting the real thing itself. Nice cunty cunt ...
"Through the panties. Suck me through the panties!"
Another delay? Would this torment never end? But then, somehow, the urgency in that throaty voice tapped a corresponding source of urgency somewhere deep in Alison's body, turning her complaint into a need for cooperation. Eagerly she lavished a mumbling myriad of kisses upon the gauzy material, adoring kisses that approached the intimate target with open-mouthed intensity. Or as close to her target as possible, anyhow-the netlike nylon crotch, sex-drenched and sloppy and savory beyond belief! She munched it avidly, gluttonous now, no longer frustrated by the oddly exciting barrier; wasn't this just another novel idea from her novelty-conscious lover?
"My cunt now. Suck it! Get rid of those goddam panties and grab yourself a mouthful, baby."
A frantic tug, an equally frantic wriggle of hips-that was all it took. At last! How soft it felt, infinitely softer than the softest fabric. Cunt. The real thing. With those voluptuous thighs rising to lock her in now, two big creamy bars of flesh-growing tight, tighter, penning her inside the delectable dungeon. How lovely to be doing it once again, loving her lover in this humble, terribly delicious way ...
"Ouch! Take it easy, will you?"
"I-I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Don't quit. No harm done."
"But what did I do wrong?"
"Never mind. Just be a bit more gentle, huh?"
"Vera? Teach me? Show me how? I do so much want to please you, make you happy. Won't you help me?"
"Some other time maybe. Don't worry about it. Besides, there's not that much for you to learn. You're a natural. A natural-born cuntlapper, you know? That horny blonde slave-girl of mine was better at licking my hand-and my feet, of course-but she couldn't suck this good. Not as good as you, darling."
Alison shuddered. It sounded kind of dirty, that name. Sexy, though, real sexy-dirty. But she was already awash in wet cunt, already adrift in the dreamy fulfillment of her newly discovered identity-a cuntlapper, a natural-born cuntlapper!-and wasn't it a thrill, a sexy-dirty little thrill?
It was only a dream, of course, but such a lovely dream! Judy stirred in her sleep and wondered how a dream could possibly seem so real. So vivid. So sexy! It was sure happening, though; wasn't this what the kids called a wet dream? The wettest of wet dreams. And her body was about to get what it craved so badly. If he would just hurry up and do it! Mike? Fuck me, fuck me? But no, this guy was much too slow, too cautious, nibbling at her neck so gently-not like Mike at all-nibbling at her neck and kind of inching down toward her tits. Rocco? Eddie? Oh shit, they weren't that slow either. Any one of those guys would have been slipping his meat into her by now. Slipping it in and socking it home, right where she needed it most, right up her craving cunt. Come on, whoever you are, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!
Not that this guy was so awful, really. Pretty nice in that gentle way of his. But why didn't he identify himself? Judy thought about opening her eyes and taking a quick look. But wouldn't that mean the end of the dream, the end of everything? She didn't dare risk it. Especially since that nice warm mouth had reached her breasts at last, sucking now, suctioning, pulling a nipple between those clever lips. No interruptions, then. Let it go on and on like this, even if she never got fucked. Although he was bound to get around to it eventually, wasn't he?
Well, no, maybe not. Where was that mouth moving to? There? Is he going to suck my cunt? That settled it. Judy knew who her dream-lover was. The old guy, the neighborhood fishqueen, the queer old fart who used to pay her and then go down on it. Ten bucks a crack, that was the standard rate. And there were cracks a-plenty, too-every young slut on the block must have tried him at least once; ten bucks wasn't bad for a few minutes' work. Or a few minutes' relaxation, better yet. Even fun, sometimes. How that horny old bastard could eat pussy! He loved it. And an awful lot of pussies loved being eaten, her own included.
But wasn't it weird to be dreaming of him now? Dreaming of a fishqueen? Judy moaned and sank deeper into her comatose state, snuffing out the intrusive spark of consciousness that had aroused her curiosity. That lapping tongue was already on its way. Let her body be aroused, not her sleep-happy mind. Her flesh felt hot and steamy down there, opening in readiness as the ever-gentle hands parted and positioned her thighs. Ah! Yes. Now. What a deliciously dreamy delirium!
It was better than the real thing, somehow. Could that be possible? A dream-tongue better than a real one? The lecherous old John had never been this great. She had to tell him so. That tongue of his, so soft and moist and slippery inside her cunt; oh shit, she just had to let him know how good it was. Even if it was only a wet dream. And she reached out then, her hands groping, flailing, making contact with the bowed head ...
Is it still a dream?
Again she refused to open her eyes. Anyway, how could she see in the darkness of night? But the dream sure seemed different all of a sudden. Only now she couldn't even feel, much less see. One touch was enough-a touch of that unfamiliar head of hair!-and now even her hands refused to investigate any further, breaking the contact and jerking away instantaneously, almost a reflex action. But that was the only broken contact, just her hands, her still-shaky hands, shaky from the shock of that one touch. Her dream-lover remained in control of everything else. And the revelation that her lover was female seemed to intensify all of it enormously.
Uh-huh. Female. No mistake about that. Unfamiliar as it was, that head of hair had been its own identification. Soft and silky and utterly beautiful. Auburn, of course, what else? Even in the inky darkness of this night-or of this dream?-there wasn't much doubt about the color. Such a lovely, lustrous auburn. She should have known, really. Vera Carlisle had at last come to call. And wasn't it nice to be doing it like this, her lesbian seduction swathed in the dark mystery of a dream? An ease to embarrassment. But then again, well, what could one expect from the hostess of this practically perfect hideout?
Judy sighed in drowsy languor, a faintly audible token of her appreciation. That tongue was so good. A thousand times better than anything the old ten-buck fishqueen had to offer. She was beginning to understand now. Only a woman could truly know where a woman's desires and responses and sensitivities lay buried. And if that sounded like lezzie propaganda, so be it! What more proof did she need? Her body had already aligned itself with the cause, dancing dreamily to the tune of that omniscient tongue-tip, aware of the coming climax. It was even better asleep, somehow, asleep and yet infinitely alive to every exquisite nuance of the prolonged sensation-like swimming nude in an unfathomable ocean of bliss. But there were some hazards here, too, dangerous undercurrents to watch out for, a certain peril even in the midst of all this sweet pleasure. Maybe it was wrong to enjoy it so much. Did she dare brave the undertow of lesbianism as a permanent way of life?
It was a chilling thought. She mulled it over momentarily, trying to dissociate her responsible mind from her irresponsible body, hoping for a detached viewpoint. But she was already too late, aware now of her thumping heart and wheezing lungs-as though that diabolically cunning tongue had cast a spell upon her. Too late, too late! She didn't want to feel like this, so subject to someone else's whim. Especially in a sexual situation. She would have been more comfortably familiar feeling it under her own control.
But that had become impossible; there wasn't the faintest spark of the old dynamic power left, not even a wistful whisper of resistance. The rapturous sweep was too potent. That tongue was almost too good, tormenting her with its serpentine skill, slithering up and down the pouty lips of her pussy now, flicking fiendishly at her oversensitive clitoris and then poking around lower and plunging into the depths. Into the slick clasp of her hot-to-trot cunt. She could only squirm in response and quit worrying about the hidden currents in her otherwise blissful sea.
No matter. Danger only doubled the excitement. She would have braved anything at this point. And anyway, it was already here-hot tongue, hot cunt, hot climax!-her spasm of sweet ecstasy. Sweeter than she had known in all her adolescent years. Sweeter by far than those pallid pastimes she had indulged in with Mike and Rocco and Eddie. Not to mention that fucked-up old fish-queen. Or the kids at the reformatory. Oh, it was sweet, all right, an orgasm of flawless perfection- in keeping with the rest of this well-nigh perfect place, naturally. She had anticipated nothing less. And it was so nice to feel relaxed and contented once again, just letting this dreamy aftermath lose its glow and fade slowly into the dark velvet oblivion of dreamless sleep ...
The morning sun awakened her, filtering through the blinds to chafe her eyelids with the announcement of its solar presence, the dawn of a brand-new day. Judy hugged herself happily. Such a beautiful day! Until she sat up and reached down to scratch an intimate itch-and found a stray hair clinging to the bed sheet. A black hair. Black? Very black. And then it didn't seem so nice any more, this beautiful new day, starting off with a suddenly queasy stomach and an impetuous headlong rush for the bathroom to vomit her guts out. Not a very good day at all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Purring contentedly, naked on her big bed, Vera luxuriated in the touch of the hands gliding over her back. The skilled hands of her maid, as good as any professional masseuse. Even better, perhaps, here in the more conducive atmosphere of the boudoir, redolent of delicate feminine fragrances rather than detergents and deodorants and rubbing alcohol compounds. How could such services remain purely professional in this atmosphere of hushed intimacy? Here a massage isn't just a massage ...
"Not too much for you, is it, ma'am? Sometimes I don't know my own strength. Me and my muscles."
"It's okay. A little muscle is what I need. I gain weight so easily these days. Or haven't you noticed?"
"Well, maybe a few ounces here and there, nothing to worry about. You still look great to me. Gorgeous as ever."
"That's encouraging. Thank you, dear. A little muscle for my ass and a little flattery for my ego. Solange, what would I ever do without you?"
A dry chuckle sounded-answer enough-and Vera purred again, basking in the congenial warmth. Nice to be told that she hadn't lost her looks. Especially since it was something she really dreaded. It was bound to happen eventually, of course, a grimly portentous trauma for every beautiful woman edging past her prime-and there was less conceit than candor in the unblushing reflection that she had always been a beauty. As attested to by the pictures on these bedroom walls, all mounted and framed for posterity. Pictures of herself in a dozen different poses. They too were beautiful, particularly the glamorous color shots that brought out the harmonious contrast of her blue eyes and auburn hair.
But even the black-and-white full-length photographs pointed up the curves of her body. Were those curves still the same today? Had she put on too many unwanted ounces? Pounds? Too bad there weren't a few nudes in her photo collection, some means of attempting a more accurate comparison. She wondered how much of a disappointment it would be. Flattery was nice to hear, but with Solange in that mellow mood of hers it had to be taken with a grain of salt. Such an expansive mood lately, doubtless the result of her dealings with their cute little houseguest. There were no more complaints of boredom, no more vague but ominously repetitious threats to quit her job and seek greener fields. For which Vera was duly grateful-and just a bit curious, much as she hated to admit it. Hardly an unwarranted curiosity, though; after all, it was happening right here in her own home. Despite her deliberate "hands off policy, she did feel a certain involvement. Enough to ask for a general progress report, anyhow, if not the specific details.
"Solange ... "
"Ma'am?"
"Tell me, how is your new affair going?"
"Affair?"
"You know. With the kid."
"Oh. That. It isn't even an affair yet."
"But-but you must have made a beginning ... "
"I guess so. Sure. A pretty good beginning, come to think of it. Kind of slow maybe, but I'm taking no chances. I wouldn't want to scare her off."
"She won't scare so easily."
"No? You figure that, Miz Vera? Glad to hear it. I've been getting a little impatient for some real action. But what's to stop her from just running out on us?"
"Well, uh, it's only a hunch on my part, but I doubt if she's very anxious to get back out on the road again. Not after the way I've made her feel at home here. Buying clothes for her, treating her like an honored guest instead of just a casual pickup. Oh no, our little Miss Judy Jones is in no hurry to leave. I'd lay odds on that. So if it's action you're looking for ... "
"Action. More than I've had so far, at least. But even after what you just said, I'd still be leery of coming on too strong with the kid-that's my hunch."
"Use your own judgment, then. As long as you're happy doing it, as long as you don't get bored, my dear. I brought her here just for you, remember? She's all yours. A toy, a plaything, a little girl-doll to keep you amused; wasn't that what I told you?"
"Uh-huh. I remember. A toy. Interesting thought-makes me feel almost possessive about her, you know? Hey, that must be why I'm becoming so impatient! Yeah. It's not just the sex, it's this other thing, this urge for possession-it's been on my mind all along, I guess. I really do want to make her all mine."
"Do you? Well now, you just might get your chance. I mean really, a chance to take over completely. I just might be able to arrange it, with luck on our side. Anyway, there's a possibility of something like that, it's not just a pipe-dream. Let me work on it awhile, okay? There's some information I've got to track down first. Let's hope for the best."
"I'm hoping, I'm hoping. Unless maybe you're putting me on. But you wouldn't do that, would you? Ma'am? No, of course not. You're always so good to me. Best mistress I ever worked for. And the prettiest, too. Mmm, your skin is so soft ... "
The massaging hands seemed almost worshipful, more effective than ever in their ministrations. As though this show of gratitude had somehow augmented an already superlative technical skill. Vera began to purr again, visualizing those cafe-au-lait hands on their journey down her spine. Right down to her milky-creamy ass. And then back up once more, up to seek out and smooth away every last little knot in her neck and shoulders ...
"Over, ma'am?"
"Hmm?"
"Time to turn over. I'll do you in front."
"You'll do me? Not yet, you sexy bitch. Just keep rubbing my back, it helps me think. And I've got some heavy thinking to do. Problems to solve, decisions to make. So stop sniffing around, my dear, get your mind off sex! If that's possible. Or at least wait until I'm ready for you."
"Oh? I thought you were."
"Sorry to disappoint you. I'm not even warmed-up yet."
"Is that so? Hah! You could have fooled me."
A snort, another chuckle, a moment of hilarity for both of them-communication without words-and it was as if they had sat down together and come to a swift agreement. Like an exercise in diplomacy. Dubious as her criticism had been, Vera knew its underlying significance hadn't gone astray. Sex wasn't taboo, merely postponed for a few minutes. That always added to the excitement, a nice built-up head of steam. And meanwhile, well, she did have some things to think about.
For the time being, anyway, everything was running smoothly here at home. Now she could concentrate on her conquest of Alison Laird. Uh-huh. Conquest. Total conquest, far beyond the already accomplished seduction. It was part of a plan-the plan-to end her financial woes. And the prospects were looking better with every visit; the blonde heiress seemed almost anxious to go on exploring that doubly aberrant facet of their relationship, showing great promise along those lines. Oh yes, there was a core of hot sensuality underneath that deceptively innocent surface- and the beautiful young "sensualist" was gradually becoming a willing accomplice in her own corruption. Now if they could only get together more often and speed up the process ...
Hmm. Talk about corruption! There was plenty of it right here, a lovely brand of corruption, soft and subtle and cunningly designed to shorten the postponement. Those hands were straying again, slyly but with apparent purpose. And as the warm palms drifted downward, Vera's flickering excitement became a steady glow. It was no longer just a simple massage. The adroit fingers were turning insidiously artful, already hinting for permission to delve and forage and fool around back there. Pretty bold, really, despite the coy approach, bold even for such a highly prized maid. Just who did she think she was?
But it was still quite pleasant and Vera adopted a momentarily permissive attitude, her tiny flash of pique blurred by a thickening sense of well-being. The hands had scooped up more scented oil to slather on, stroking it to a warmth that permeated the air with an intoxicating aroma. Slathering it on and smearing it in deep, the perfumed unguent, intimately deep-and for one breathless instant she felt an even more audacious touch, a finger that must have wandered away from the others. Only it wasn't wandering at all, that casual but calculating fingertip, now it was seeking, probing, prying, opening her body to its obscene invasion. Her buttocks jiggled and parted wide, yielding to the pressure.
She moaned, unable to voice the rebuke that came to her lips, spellbound by the mysterious power of that inescapable length of rigidly plumbing flesh. It was even a bit embarrassing, stuck like that, pinned to the bed by a single finger, just that one long stiff finger buried in her ass. Unbearable. Deliciously unbearable! It held her paralyzed, mired in a kind of rueful rapture. Worse yet, its more pointed effect was broadening, spreading insistently, fanning outward like a forest fire in a drought. Her loins were ablaze with need, a greater need than this one licentious contact could satisfy. And as the frustration grew, so did her embarrassment-the need was simply too big to ignore; wasn't it just too demeaning for words?
Only the words had become a painful necessity. "Please ... " A whisper was all she could manage, like the choked sound of a shy schoolgirl asking to leave the room. "Let me roll over now. Don't you want to suck me? Suck my cunt?"
Turning her face, she went laboriously into the spiral movement without waiting for a reply. The imbedded finger remained a hindrance, easing off only slightly. But the hand itself helped, lifting her rump in the right direction. And the other hand was already at her shoulder to facilitate the somewhat strenuous maneuver. Only that one didn't do much good, actually, just holding on for balance as Solange's head bent to welcome the gradual appearance of her bosom with a flurry of kisses. An enthusiastic welcome, enthusiastic but scarcely fulfilling at this stage of the game. Lips caressed her breasts. Avid lips that fastened upon one nipple and then the other, pulling and tugging each in turn as she continued the twisting motion. Past the halfway point, she found the going easier and fell back supine-with a peremptory wriggle of her bottom that finally got through to that sticky finger, dislodging it in a hurry. She almost missed it, conscious of the sudden void. But then- miraculously!-those kissing lips got the message, too, slithering down in all due haste, unerringly oriented now, eliciting a wail of impatience as the warm wetness traveled across her belly.
"There. Yes. My cunt, my cunt ... "
"Oh, I love it when you're so hot!"
"Don't talk. Suck!"
That did it. Vera shivered in joy at the first touch of that familiar tongue. Ah yes, her understanding maid was an even more understanding lover. Such a lusciously leeching mouth! The mouth of an experienced and highly efficient cuntlapper, diligent to a fault. Its technique seldom failed. And yet, unaccountably, the rising curve of pleasure seemed to be leveling off. As though the technical aspect of Solange's lovemaking wasn't enough this time, just this once. And she was trying so hard, too, doing it like a slave almost, crouched at the foot of the bed now ...
Like a slave?
Vera lost track temporarily, shutting her eyes and letting her mind veer crazily. It came to her then, floating in from out of nowhere-that beautiful young face with the rosebud lips and velvety dark eyes and a complexion like blushing ivory-so vivid against the black backdrop of her sealed eyelids. A hallucination? Well, not exactly, her mind hadn't gone that crazy. Nor had it veered so far from present reality, either. After all, it was Alison's show of interest that had brought the "sexy slave-girl" memories back and into focus. Funny. After all these years. So long ago-even that wild affair with Ethel, right after her first divorce. When she was whoring around so much. A whore, practically. In the wildest of wildly perverted lesbian affairs. Hmm, wouldn't Alison like to hear about that!
Sexy slave-girl. A real one, not just a paid servant. Vera could hardly wait to see her again, this prospective slave-girl of hers; a slave-girl with money, imagine! Oh, to have that lofty little golden head bowed down between her legs in self-abasement, the rosy innocence soiling itself with sinful cunt, tarnished forever in the heat of a thousand feverishly humble kisses. That was the kind of slave she wanted. Not this crouching maid, necessary only as a front, a facade to conceal the pockmarks and poverty-warts on her slowly vanishing style of existence. But she would have to keep this one to win that one, of course-a fine servant in the house was indispensable to the Carlisle tradition. So right now wouldn't it be smart to get her roving mind back on the track again? The main track?
"Oooh, what an idea!"
"Umm ... "
"I just thought of something. Solange? About the kid-what's-her-name, your little toy-isn't it more than just an urge for possession? You're too old to play with toys. I'll bet you'd like to break her in for real, hmm? Maybe even make a slave out of her. A cute little slave-girl kneeling at your feet ... "
It was a shot in the dark, impulsive but apparently well-aimed. Followed by a stunned lull. Then the delayed reaction struck, an eagerly bobbing head and a frantic mouth that seemed to breathe new life into the caress. Vera arched up at it, a bit desperate herself now, goaded into a horizontal bump-and-grind to intensify the already accomplished total merger. As if some raw-nerved instinct was driving her cunt to suck back at that sucking mouth. To swallow or be swallowed. Or could she do both at once?
There was a fluttering motion centered within the contact, an educated tickle. That squirmy-eel tongue had lost none of its expertise, she noted. Inevitably, though, the meticulously detailed performance began to pall again; it was almost clinical now, despite the murky intimacies. Vera muttered a silent oath, aware that the only fitting conclusion to this seductively professional massage was still out of reach. What a letdown! And after all the embarrassment she had gone through to get there, too. Now she actually resented it, this stupid setback. Hmm. Or was that because of the embarrassment? The awful embarrassment and the coquettish insolence of a maidservant who had obviously forgotten her station in life; what mistress wouldn't be resentful in such a plight? Maybe it was time to call a halt and put the pegs in their proper niches. Only she didn't have to call a halt, of course, not for that. This vengeful dispenser of justice was no longer a shy schoolgirl about to wet her bloomers.
There now, the moment of decision was over. Vera started the slowly wriggling turn, another spiral twist from the top down, easing toward a prone position with her face already burrowing comfortably into the pillow. It was an unhurried procedure, smooth and gradual throughout, nearing completion without any noticeable disruption of service. Nearing the crucial point ...
A gasp; then, "Ma'am?"
"Can't you guess?"
"Oh. But ... but-"
"But nothing. You were pretty mean to me a while ago. Pretty rough too, right where I'm sensitive. It still hurts. The least you can do is soothe it a little, wouldn't you say?"
"Uh-huh. You want me to make it all well again, ma'am? With a nice soft kiss?"
"Do that. Yeah. Since you're so fond of my ass. Soothe it with a nice soft kiss. And maybe a nice soft tongue, hmm? You know how. Do it, do it, soothe my bruised asshole with that nice soft fucking tongue of yours!"
"Oh!"
"Sexy bitch ... "
"You're the sexy one. The sexiest-"
"Come on, what are you waiting for?"
But the wait was already over and Vera could only sigh and accept her due with good grace, congratulating herself on the successful turnabout. A well-executed maneuver. That's putting the bold bitch in her place! Only the "good grace" wasn't so easy now, not with that hot tongue stretching deep and still squirming around to go deeper. The squirmy-eel tongue. From a highly charged electric eel, no doubt. With current to burn, a hot current with a most invigorating effect, arousing fresh desire and stirring her to take action on her own behalf.
It was almost instinctive, this sudden change, a lurching movement that raised her buttocks and brought her bent knees in under them. A deliciously vulnerable position! But she could sure help the cause a little, thrusting her reared-up ass back hard into that open mouth, impaling herself upon that elongated tongue. As if her asshole had to suck back, too. Just like her cunt. Or maybe she couldn't even tell the difference now, the way the lovely sensation had broadened its scope to include everything. Lovely, lovely! But vulnerable, sure enough. Wide-open. Undefended. Practically inviting trouble. Inviting something, anyway-or had the invitation already been acknowledged?
So it appeared. She could feel the brush of hands in front now, sneaky hands taking advantage of every opening, traveling separate routes to the same goal. Meddlesome hands-so busy, so many enterprising fingers!-cleaving the lips of her cunt, creeping in to capture her clitoris. While in back the hungrily wedged-in face worked with renewed fervor to occupy every available inch of secret flesh, the furrow between her buttock cheeks-a hot mouth funneling much of its energy and most of its urgency into the tip-end of that slimy ass-loving tongue. And then somehow, exquisitely, it became all one sensation again, voluptuous, and she simply surrendered with a joyous sob and let herself be inveigled into a slowly enveloping swoon ...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dinner had been a mildly festive occasion and Judy was still wearing her dressiest outfit, the most formal in the wardrobe she had begun to accumulate. Anyway, she didn't feel out of place here in the elegant living room, even if her sleek and superbly garbed hostess did outshine her. It was a pleasant evening so far, enhanced by a sparkling wine that made the conversation sparkle-fine for a congenial atmosphere.
Vera Carlisle's poise and charm were certainly in evidence tonight. Along with her fascinating knowledge of show-business lore and legend. Including a few genuinely spicy items, naturally - sly as any gossip column and twice as scandalous. Even the usually taciturn maid seemed to be blossoming out a bit, smoking cigarettes and sipping wine and actually smiling once in a while. Not like a servant at all. But it had become obvious by then that Solange was more than just the hired help here, doubling as a housekeeper and social secretary and general companion. Tonight she conveyed that impression more than ever, managing it somehow without neglecting her regular after-dinner duties. It was quite noticeable, especially when the sexy conversation took a less impersonal turn as Vera announced her intention of leaving soon. Listening to them, Judy suddenly realized that they were on the verge of giving away secrets about their relationship.
"Oh? You're going out again, ma'am?"
"Yes, dear. I almost wish I didn't have to. It's been such a nice evening, sitting around like this, the three of us."
"I wish you'd stay. You're in such a good mood ... "
"Good mood?"
"You know. When you're like this ... "
"I get it. You think I'll welcome you into my bed. Is that what you mean by good mood, Solange?"
"Well ... uh ... "
"You figure you've got it coming to you? Like it's one of the fringe benefits of this job, eh?"
"Aw, don't be mad. I was just-"
"Hush now. You were just licking your lips, that's what. But enough of this silly talk - before we shock our little guest right out of her mind. She's still young and innocent, the sweet child." Vera stood up abruptly, changing the subject.
"Anyway, it's time I got started." Then, performing a slow pirouette, "How do I look? Is this dress too wrinkled?"
"It's fine. Looks beautiful on you."
"Beautiful? This old rag?"
"Uh-huh. You'd look beautiful in anything, ma'am."
"Oh, you're just saying that."
"Nope. It's the truth, Miz Vera. You're sure beautiful. Most beautiful lady I ever worked for."
"Really? Come now, you can't mean it. How about the time you worked for that gorgeous model in-"
"Hmph! That one. She was beautiful, all right. But she sure warn't no lady, let me tell you."
"Solange, you're priceless. But we're still shocking poor Judy, I'll bet. No more, hmm? Tell you what, run upstairs and get me a wrap or something; it's chilly out. See if you can find the purple one, the velour, you know?"
The maid trotted off dutifully. Judy rose to replenish her wineglass, blushing now, aware that she was under scrutiny. Her head whirled, as much from the sexy dialogue as from the sparkling wine. Vera came toward her, grinning but somewhat flustered herself apparently, just as charming but not quite so poised now.
"Well, my dear? Are you shocked?"
"N-no, of course not. I'm not that young and innocent. I do wish you wouldn't treat me like a child."
"You understood, then. I'm glad. But don't worry, we're not really such terribly wicked creatures ... "
They were standing close now, much too close. Judy's breathing became forced, erratic, embarrassingly so. She wanted desperately to step back, to move away, but it took only the touch of a finger to hold her right there, rooted to the spot. One scarlet-tipped finger. It touched the tiny pout of her belly and then began roving playfully, tracing a languid pattern of waves and circles that seemed to burn right through the fabric of her dress. She shivered, overwhelmed by the sensation, an apprehensive but not unwilling captive, letting her benumbed brain remain just conscious enough to lie low and not interfere with the enraptured responses of her body. Only it went on too long like that, the mischievous fingertip, on and on without getting anywhere.
"Vera? Are you teasing me?"
"Uh-huh. Isn't it fun?"
"F-fun ... "
"You tease Solange, don't you?"
Judy gasped. "You-you know about that?"
"I've seen you. And I've seen the effect it has on her, the poor darling. You remind her of someone she once cared for, someone in her past-that's why it's so easy. A girl from long ago, a cousin of hers, actually. A big thing in her life. Get her to tell you about it sometime, it's an interesting story."
The sexy finger was still meandering around. Judy could only comply dizzily as her face was tilted up and she felt the sudden pressure of those smiling red lips on her own. It was an affectionate gesture of parting, not a kiss of passion, but her head reeled from the contact of the slightly open mouth and the surrounding aura of expensive perfume. When it ended she was left weak-kneed and wheezing for breath, licking her lips instinctively in an almost unwitting effort to renew the tangy taste of that exotic lipstick. Her eyes followed the retreating regal figure meanwhile, drawn to the hypnotically rolling motion of the heavy haunches and bulbous buttocks, all swaying and jiggling in ultra-feminine fashion, spectacular but scarcely compatible with that majestic stride. Watching it made her own loins churn in a kind of erotic empathy, the blush on her cheeks self-inspired and unseen this time, a vaguely feverish reaction to the confusing conflict between her misty desires and her clear-cut inhibitions.
Alone for the moment, she achieved a certain composure and sat down again as the mistress and her maid fussed with the purple velour wrap in the outer foyer. Then the door slammed, putting an end to the cozy evening, and Judy could only wonder how to avoid any further social obligations on this already fizzled-out night. Was it too early to go to bed? A shame to leave that much bubbly wine around, though; wouldn't it just go flat and be wasted? Might as well stay up awhile longer. And maybe even tease a little more?
Silly. She shouldn't have done it in the first place, even if her coy little act did evolve out of fun rather than malice. But the temptation had been irresistible, what with Solange herself practically asking for it, always mooning around like a big, dumb overgrown child, just ripe for something like that. It was in the woman's nature, Judy figured. Just as it was in her own nature to seize the advantage-just for the hell of it!-and drive the old dyke crazy with some cute body-language, flashing her tits and wiggling her ass and rubbing her crossed legs together like a horny little sex-pot ...
"Oh? Still here, Missy?"
"Sure. Long as there's some wine left."
"It's very good. I'll have another drop myself."
Judy sneaked a surreptitious glance, watching the maid's body in motion, a massive body that seemed to pulsate and ripple inside its uniform. Or maybe that impression came more from the uniform itself, briefer and noticeably tighter than usual. It was quite a sight, though, those thick thighs alive with the coiling and uncoiling of corded muscles; wasn't it kind of sexy?
Oh shit, I must be drunk!
Uh-huh. The wine had crept up on her. Everything in the room appeared more beautifully proportioned, seen from this new perspective. The colors were especially vivid, a bright splendor of crimson and yellow and gold-flecked brown. But no, on second glance Solange didn't really look so sexy. Just different, somehow.
It was then that Judy saw a shine of slitted eyes and realized that her sneaky survey hadn't been so sneaky. A hot flush sizzled her cheeks as the woman's quizzical smile broadened to a grin. An all-knowing grin, insolent but shrewdly perceptive-and Judy could only drop her gaze and hide behind her raised wineglass, prickly with the irritation of embarrassment.
"Missy? Aren't you drinking more than you're used to? Not that it's any of my business ... "
Talk about insolence! Out of sheer spite, Judy drank deeper, gulping the wine instead of sipping daintily. And once again she toyed with the idea of teasing the ugly old bitch into a frenzy, viewing it as a means of revenge now. Tease her, taunt her, flaunt your tempting young body in her face. Tempting young flesh! Until her tongue hangs out for it. Tempting young cunt! Until that cunt-hungry old dyke-mouth is moaning in misery ... '
The erotic notion had a thrill all its own, setting Judy's nerves athrob. No hurry, though. Keep it light and friendly at first, not so obvious this time. Get the hook in deep. Give the big dumb creature something to build her hopes on. Like a sexy conversation maybe?
It took some doing, but she finally worked around to it, asking about the girl from long ago, the girl cousin who was supposed to have been a big thing in Solange's life. It got a reluctant reply, a brush-off practically-another frustration on this frustrating night!-but by then Judy had become stubbornly persistent, almost demanding, her own curiosity past the point of tolerance.
"Missy, must you keep pressing me? It was mean of Miz Vera to even mention it, you know?"
"Aw, come on, what's the big secret? You got something to hide? I mean, uh, as long as she did mention it ... "
"We all got something to hide. You too, I'll bet. But if it's really that important to you ... " Solange shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "I don't mind. Anyway, it wasn't such a big thing, looking back on it. Big at the time, though. I was only a kid then, younger than you are now. And this cousin of mine came to live with us, a real beauty-about my age but a lot more experienced. So we had an affair, you might say. That's all."
"Your first one, huh?"
"My very first."
"So how did it happen? Did she seduce you?"
"Nosey, aren't you? Oh well, if you must know. No, she didn't seduce me, not exactly. She used to walk around in her underwear-and sometimes without it!-just to make me notice her. And she was something to see, sure enough. I'd look at her and get all hot-'n'-bothered and couldn't understand why. Then one night she came home from a date half-loaded, almost too drunk to walk. I heard her stumble on the stairs and ran down to help her. She needed help, too. I had to undress her and put her to bed. And before it was over, she fell asleep like that, naked, right there in front of me, that beautiful naked body-and it was like some kind of mystery I had to solve, you know? Especially that dark place between her legs. So I got right down there and solved it, the mystery, once and for all."
"While she was sleeping? Didn't she wake up?"
"She sure did. Or she could have been faking to begin with, just to find out how far I'd go. Like it was all my idea, the whole sexy business. Anyhow, pretty soon she was holding me tight and rubbing her pussy all over my mouth, my face-it was all furry and moist and hot ... and I just fell in love with her ... "
"In love? Really? You did it again after that?"
"Lots of times. Whenever she let me. That was how it was between us; oh, she became real bossy. She used to get a kick out of humiliating me. Sometimes she'd pull her panties off and tease me until I begged-and then she would turn around and make me kiss her there, her behind, her bare bottom-"
"Her bare ass? You kissed-"
"I had to lick it, lick her bare ass. She loved that, my tongue inside the crack ... "
It was a weird and wonderful story, and Judy tried to listen closely and hear more and concentrate on the details. But now, all of a sudden, she visualized the scene and started to giggle. It struck her as hilariously funny somehow, seeing that tongue and remembering where it had been. She couldn't seem to stop giggling. Except once, momentarily, to gulp some wine and ease the hoarseness in her throat-two lusty swallows that drained the glass dry. And it was then, rising to reach for the strangely elusive bottle, that she felt the floor tilt and saw the walls begin to whirl and realized that another drink was the least of her needs.
Luckily there was someone to come to her rescue, someone to grab hold and guide her toward the stairway to bed. Someone with a strong arm and a solid shoulder and just the hint of a soft bosom to cushion the shock of her semi-conscious journey. And then, magically, the journey was over and she was falling, falling ...
"That's it, darling. Relax. I'll take care of you. Let's get some of these tight clothes off, hmm? We won't need the light."
What happened next was like a dream. The same dream? No, of course not. How marvelous to feel like this, naked and comfy-cozy at last, incapable of exact movement but adrift and aimless and free just the same. She stirred languorously, sighing as the damp warmth of a kiss dabbed at one ear and then skated down her neck, the base of her throat, into the valley between her breasts. My boobs, suck my boobs! The darkness was abruptly alive with a faceless desire that feasted upon her already stiffening nipples. They rose toward the source of pleasure, her tits swollen with heavy expectancy, trying to treasure this single sweet sensation and pay no attention to the butterfly caress that roamed her body elsewhere. Down her belly now, the touch of feathery fingers, so delicate!
Delicate but greedy. And soon that too demanded more than mere passing notice. She gave it with a certain diminishing reluctance, writhing and twisting like a sluggish feline, slowly, lazily, letting her slim curves and contours conform to the glide-path of those venturesome fingertips. The darkness helped, blurring reality, as much an intoxicant as the alcohol-and it seemed only right to accept this benign treatment without investigating the pedigree of its donor. She was even a little grateful for the nice maid-service, the lift upstairs and into bed-such tender loving care!-quite aside from her more tangible enjoyment of those amorous lips and fingers playing on her body with a deftly sensitive touch.
The hand on her belly soon became difficult, though, brushing right past its supposed target to extend the butterfly caresses down her thighs. And then back up again, pausing and tightening to a clutch as if it had made an important discovery there, on the inner thigh-surfaces, high up; young stuff, soft and satiny, huh? The fingers were squeezing now, close but still hesitant, still avoiding the already primed and probably steamy-slick cleft of her cunt.
Then, from above, the kissing mouth began a deliberate downward slide. Judy stifled a sob, a cry of impatience, arching her torso suggestively in an impetuous plea for haste. It went unheeded as the movement continued slowly, tantalizingly; and she became a writhing cat once more, this time with a sense of urgency-coaxing, wheedling, willing those lesbian lips onward. Downward. Cuntward! Into a perverted lesbian suck ...
The thrill struck with an unbelievable impact. Because of the suspense, she figured. Not that she had much to go by in comparison. It just seemed bigger and better, hotter and heavier, almost emotional in its driving intensity. Maybe even a little too much so, the way her flesh was getting chewed up by those crunching jaws. It was pretty painful-and she had a good mind to speak up and say so, loud and clear. But somehow, vaguely, she recognized the risk in such a drastic course, the almost certain change of mood. Only the sounds of love were permissible, the sexy noises, a sigh, a moan, a gasp-and always the faint liquid rustle of flesh on slithery flesh. An acceptance of the dream, a rejection of reality! And any verbal communication was bound to destroy the fragile dream-web, the mystery, leaving only the acknowledgement of an ugly truth. Even the atmosphere precluded speech, the thick and impenetrable darkness hanging like a cloak of silence. But then it really didn't matter any more, the pain, the pleasure, whatever-it was all beyond her control now as her entire body started to shudder and shake in the onslaught of the approaching climax. She couldn't control anything now, not any more than she could control the great tremors that were wracking her flesh and turning any possible protest that rose to her lips into an unintelligible, gasping groan.
CHAPTER NINE
They descended lingeringly from the blinding summit of sexual pleasure, their naked bodies bathed in perspiration. A cool breeze from the open window dried their damp skin. Still panting, Alison waited for some comment on her performance, hopeful of a compliment but always prepared for criticism.
"Darling ... "
"Vera? Was it all right?"
"Simply grand. You're really learning."
"I-I'm still just a beginner."
"You get better and better. Now enough of this, let's relax and have a drink, huh?"
Alison did the honors gladly, fetching drinks and cigarettes and then rearranging the bed pillows for the comfort of her beloved friend, glad to serve even in this small way. Just so long as she could go on serving in that other, much greater way! All the dormant sensuality of her nature had been awakened and aroused to vivid life in the exercise of such service, and it was only then- ministering to her lover's bawdy lusts-that she reached these essential and ever more imperative peaks in her constant and all but unremitting state of eroticism. In retrospect there were times when this seemed like an almost morbid kind of happiness, admittedly-certainly the perverse fascination itself was morbid!-but that was something she had already accepted and grown accustomed to. Regardless of the rueful memories and mildly gnawing remorse, she became impatient from one date to the next to bury her head between those big creamy thighs and just wallow in the thrill, the lewdly exciting thrill; was there ever such a sexy-dirty thrill?
Even now, with the sex-edge blunted at least temporarily, she finished her errand and returned to that same place on the rumpled bed, sacrificing her own comfort without any reluctance whatsoever. Not that she wasn't comfortable there, pillowed upon all that lovely soft flesh, the softness of thigh and belly and vulva, along with the passion-drenched but still resiliency spongy tangle of dark auburn hair. And better yet she was in the best possible position to prove her readiness to begin all over again, ready to take swift advantage of any invitation-or even a tentative hint thereof. She felt just fine now, secure in the intimacy of all this heavily fleshed femininity surrounding her, cradling her, a snug haven that offered both pleasure and protection ...
"Back at my cunt again? Don't you ever get enough?"
The tone of voice was more suggestive than sardonic, already rife with promise. Alison enjoyed a surge of sweet anticipation, wondering how long this interim lull would last. Not very long, apparently. And meanwhile she felt quite at home here between Vera's lax limbs, her face still smeared with the dew of Vera's orgasm, her body momentarily at peace from her own hot jolting climax-an almost automatic reaction nowadays!-her mind anxious only to keep this restful interlude sexy too, hopefully preserving an atmosphere conducive to the prospect of procuring another such orgasm for dear Vera and another such climax for herself. Ah, how she adored this lesbian sweetheart of hers, this bewitching blue-eyed witch, so utterly alluring with that sultry face and sinfully voluptuous figure! How she adored this cunt!
"Does anyone ever get enough? I doubt it. For that matter, who would want to? It's more fun when the craving endures and there's no end in sight. Hey, tell me something, was I really that good a while ago? No technical errors to criticize?"
"What do you want, a medal? Nobody's perfect, my dear. But you're an okay cuntlapper, I'll admit-enthusiastic, you know?-the kind of girl I'd like having around always. A pretty cuntlapper to put me to sleep at night and wake me up in the morning. With a few matinee and evening sessions too, maybe, hmm?"
"Sounds like a full-time job. Nice long afternoons ... "
"Horny little bitch."
"Uh-huh. Horny, that's me. Just like that horny blonde slave-girl of yours-when you were a kid, remember? Was she an okay cuntlapper, too? I'll bet. Better than me, no doubt. But she sure couldn't have been any hornier."
"Flossie, you mean. My little school chum. You're still curious about her, aren't you?"
"I-I guess so. Not about her, actually, just the idea of it, the slave-girl thing ... "
"Oh? In that case, I've got news for you, darling. Flossie wasn't my only slave. I've had others. Interested?"
"You're serious? Vera? You're not just teasing? When was that, around the same time? In school? The slumber parties? Oh, now I'm getting all excited, isn't that silly?"
"Not so silly. You'd be surprised how many women react the same way. And even more surprised at how many go in for that sort of thing themselves. I'm not talking about kids now, no schoolgirl games, no pajama parties. Adult women. Mature women. My dear, I could tell you some stories ... "
"So? Tell me."
"Stories that might shock the shit out of you."
"Go ahead, shock me, I dare you. Shock the shit out of me, see if I care. I've been shocked so much lately anyway ... "
"Poor baby. You must think I'm a monster, leading you on like that, arousing your curiosity and getting you horny and then making you suck my cunt for hours. Pretty selfish of me, huh? A real selfish slut, always giving orders, always expecting my lovers to obey without question. I'm used to it now. But when you've had as many willing love-slaves as I have, well, can you blame me for being spoiled? And it didn't just come natural, either. I had to learn to do it-acting bitchy in bed, I mean, bitchy enough to go all out and satisfy any girl who needed that kind of domineering treatment. Or any woman, rather, especially if she happened to be paying the bills. And there was no shortage of that type-and no limit to their crazy desires, once they came out of the closet and confessed. So I wasn't always thinking of myself, darling, strange as that may seem."
"I-I don't understand. They paid the bills?"
"Here's a little shocker for you. They paid my bills. And if that makes me sound like a whore ... " Vera chuckled. "Almost but not quite. I was just whoring around, you might say. Having fun and letting somebody else pick up the tab. Women only, though, and for a good reason-I was getting a divorce at the time, my first one, the crackup of my first marriage. A court case, very messy; oh, that penny-pinching old bastard! You're not the only one who's had bad luck with husbands, honey."
"Ugh. Don't remind me."
"Anyway, that was when I met Ethel. Never mind the last name, she's long gone now. Another divorcee, only this one had plenty of money and no legal problems. We had a little affair-just a quickie, I figured-but she liked my style in bed and insisted on seeing me again. And pretty soon it became a real big love affair, one-sided mostly, but I didn't mind playing along. She made it worth my while. First it was the lawyer, her own high-priced lawyer; she had him take over my case and pull a few strings, enough to pressure my stingy husband into offering an out-of-court settlement. Then she took care of some credit-card bills I'd run up, bills I couldn't pay until the legal hassle was over. I mean she really wooed me, you know? So what the hell, how could I say no when she asked me to move in with her? Besides, it was fun by then, a new kind of fun. Or an old kind brought up-to-date, perhaps."
"She became your slave-girl?"
"Yeah. My middle-aged slave-girl. A plump one. Plain-almost ugly-but with a beautiful personality, meek and submissive and anxious to keep me happy; what could be more beautiful than that? I moved in and became a lady of leisure, just lounging around and enjoying the soft life. Ethel paid for everything, even my clothes. And gifts, of course, spur-of-the-moment gifts-sometimes expensive-to show her love. And she did all the work around the apartment, too. I didn't have to lift a finger. Even when I volunteered, she refused to let me help with sweeping or wash the dishes or take care of the laundry. That was a slave's job, below my exalted station."
"You-you didn't do anything!"
"Huh? Oh. Well, sure, I had to earn my keep, didn't I? My job was to stir up excitement in bed. Or wherever we happened to be when the mood struck. In the kitchen. On the living room floor. In the bathtub. In front of the television set. Even out in public sometimes, a restaurant, a movie theater, a fitting room in some dress shop or department store-only I had to be very careful in such instances, naturally. I was good at it, though. And I got even better with a little practice, coming up with new ideas, new ways to degrade and humiliate and torture her. The worse I treated that woman, the more she loved me. Weird, huh?"
"Weird. But, uh, aren't you exaggerating a little?"
"Umm, well, maybe just a little. But isn't it fun? Still, if you'd rather I stop ... "
"No, don't stop. I love it." Fidgety now, Alison caressed a creamy leg with both hands, encircling the slim ankle and gliding upward, up the smoothly contoured calf with its soft but full blown bulge, up along the satiny skin-texture of the shapely thigh. "I'm getting excited again. Do you mind?"
"Be my guest. Whatever turns you on. Ethel used to love my legs. Kept them nice and smooth, too, legs and underarms. That was one of her regular assignments, my personal grooming. She helped me bathe and did my hair and fingernails and toenails, all those little boring tasks that a woman is stuck with. Only she never seemed bored doing them. Once she got that close, all it took was a whiff of my sexy cunt-perfume to make her nose twitch and her cheeks flush-and then I'd see that red tongue of hers sliding back and forth, licking her shiny wet lips ... "
"Oooh!"
"S'matter?"
"I-I'm so hot ... "
"Yeah? Glad to hear it."
"Let me suck you. Suck your cunt. Please?"
"Well now ... "
"Pretty please with sugar on it?"
"Hah! Guess who used to say that. Ethel. How that slave-bitch could beg! She could talk me into anything. Same as you, baby-love, if you try hard enough. I'm a pushover for sweet-lipped young blondes. In fact, you've already convinced me, you adorable little cuntlapper. Just give me a minute to get organized. And I'll give you all the-"
"Vera? What-where are you going?"
The bedsprings creaked a wordless reply, audible but hardly explicit, hardly a clue to the sudden flurry of activity. Alison whimpered in her daze of disappointment, aware only that the prize about to be plucked had just been snatched away. Then, somehow, she too was part of the creaking flurry, unceremoniously asprawl in a new position on the bed. Supine now. A strategic and surprisingly logical position, as it turned out, what with the precious prize itself hovering so close, once again within range. Dangling, practically, dangling over her upturned face like some ripe tropical fruit about to split down the middle and spill its juices ...
"You see, darling? Just a touch of novelty. All that chatter about poor old Ethel made me recollect my own duties. A good slave-girl rates a good mistress. And a good mistress is always one jump ahead, never in a rut. It's like show business, the charm wears thin with too much repetition. Novelty is its lifeblood. With a little suspense maybe to bring out the flavor. And the only thing better than a good mistress is a good masterful mistress, you hear? So you might pay attention and appreciate this, what I'm doing for you, just for you. Listen now. Cunt is cunt, they say, but don't you believe it! That's man-talk-and doesn't the dumb jock realize he's making every appraisal with the same dull tool? Cunt is unique in its truest sense, no two alike, all different. And even the unique cunt changes from hour to hour. To say nothing of the change you're about to discover right now, baby, a change in position. It'll be brand-new this way, a brand-new cunt to suck- properly aged, of course, like a good wine or a good steak-a brand-new cunt to satisfy that old craving. I'll even serve it to you. Like this. Hey, just look at the service you're getting. See? Service with a smile!"
Alison peered up higher, refocusing her gaze just in time to catch a glimpse of the smiling face. And then it was blocked out by that big creamy body sinking deeper into its lewdly nonchalant squat-and she was left with only the earlier vision to focus on. Cunt. It seemed to be smiling, too; from this angle, who could figure out horizontals and verticals?
The cloven flesh settled at last, squirming fluidly to conform to her chin and cheeks and the lips of her gaping mouth. It was a new sensation, sure enough. Brand-new. A brand-new cunt? Alison pondered the phenomenon, trying to recall the substance of her dear teacher's droll harangue. Surely there was a message to be garnered here! But she was already aroused and sucking with unbridled girl-lust, losing herself in the pulsating union of lips-cunt-lips, mouth-lips, lesbian lips- and the circumstances were scarcely conducive to such philosophical pondering. She understood it all vaguely, anyhow, and there was really no urgent need for further understanding. The physical part, just feeling like this would tide her over ...
"Darling! Oh, you do appreciate me!"
That too had some tie-in with the impromptu lecture. Something to do with appreciation; who could remember? And then, quite conveniently, it all dissolved into shadow as she felt the touch of a hand at the crux of her quivering thighs. No fingers, just the palm-patting affectionately- hardly a sex-inspired gesture. But it was effective, that one light touch, and Alison succumbed deliriously to a prodigious climax and might have blacked out altogether except for the terrible, wonderful burden squashing her face and forcing a certain recognition of the potential power wielded by a good masterful mistress. Or was that merely the intended message? Masterful?
CHAPTER TEN
Delivered by the maid, it had sounded like a royal summons from the mistress. Judy scurried through the hall, wondering what was so all-fired important. The door was ajar; she knocked lightly and entered, pushing it shut behind her with a fleeting shudder of excitement at this sudden unexpected intimacy. Eyes popping, she stood there and stared.
In a filmy black negligee, Vera Carlisle lounged against the tufted headboard of her bed. Long and lustrous, the tumble of her hair was like a richly resplendent auburn mantle around her shoulders. Indolently supine-loose-limbed and lax upon the satin coverlet-she looked simply gorgeous. And the negligee could only confirm that opinion, sheer enough to leave little to the imagination. It was her sole garment apparently, except for a suspicion of extra darkness about her loins, possibly a pair of bikini-styled panties. Nothing detracted from the impression of remarkable ripeness; every jutting crest and curving slope of her body appeared to have attained a maturity of its own, adding up to an awesome maturity-plus for the entire picture. Like a hothouse bloom at peak growth, already heavy enough to show a hint of droop. Only how could any plant, no matter how exotic, achieve comparison with this spectacular species of sensuous human female?
Obviously affected by such admiration, Vera smiled slowly and seemed to preen herself anew for the occasion. Her flesh rippled in response, basking in the warmth of so flattering an appraisal. Languidly, she lifted one leg and pointed it toward the nearby chair, her bare foot arched, the lacquered toenails shining like directional signals.
"Sit down, my dear."
"Uh-huh. Thanks." Judy sank into the seat, striving for a calmly casual air. "Something on your mind?"
"Something. Or somebody, rather, somebody I read about in an old newspaper in the town library. A girl. A girl whose description fits you exactly. A girl named Genevieve Eichelberger."
"Oh ... "
"Sound familiar maybe?"
"Yeah. Familiar." Judy tried to stem her rising panic. "You don't have to play games. We both know the score."
"You're not denying it's you? From the reformatory?"
"How could I deny it? You'd only check up and find out the truth anyway, I guess. Sure, it's me. So what?"
"Good question. So what? That's what we'd better figure out right now. The newspaper story said you had been a model inmate at Wicklow, under minimum security-that was the reason for your easy escape. If that's so, why did you run?"
"They only told half the story, Vera. Good behavior was my best bet because I was supposed to get out soon, less than a year. But then my stepfather landed up in a charity alcoholic ward and that left me without a home to go to; he's my only living relative. It meant being stuck there a lot longer-till age 18, at least-unless they could find me a foster home. Maybe even age 21, that was the awful rumor over the grapevine-and not much chance of a foster home, either. Tough shit, huh? So there I was-no hope left, all that good behavior wasted-and even with minimum security, that place is no picnic. So I just broke out, that's all. But don't worry, I'm no criminal, you won't have to count the silverware when I leave."
"Don't get snotty. And what makes you think you're leaving?"
"Oh? What am I, a prisoner here?"
"Not exactly. Let's just say you're an alien. An alien on probation. Until I decide what to do with you. And meanwhile, you're quite safe here. I'm sure you appreciate having such a fine hideout, my dear. It's better than being on the run, isn't it?"
"Of course. That goes without saying. But if it's a question of going on the run again, I sure as hell will."
"I think not. Because I won't let you. Oh, I'm not keeping you against your will. You can leave anytime you care to. But it would make me angry if you did. Angry enough to do something we'd both be sorry for." Vera's shrug was painfully expressive. "How simple it would be for me to drop a hint to the police, hmm?"
"You mean you'd ... you ... "
"Don't look so shocked. And let's not worry over something that's just a farfetched possibility. Now that you understand, I'm sure you'll be staying awhile. And of your own free will. I'd prefer to think of it that way, wouldn't you?"
The woman's face had undergone a noticeable change. Gone was the kindly driver who had been so generous to a young hitchhiker on a rainy night. Now the beautiful features had hardened somewhat, neither .stern nor threatening exactly, just a shade grim. Inscrutable, pretty much, but Judy could only take the pessimistic view and feel her insides churning with apprehensive jitters. All of a sudden she was frightened, genuinely frightened.
And yet she was aware of another feeling of agitation coming alive in her flesh, a tingling excitement almost, strangely sensual for such a horrid moment. Because of the fear, the danger? Was that what had turned her hopefully imperturbable reaction into a mixture of cold chills and hot thrills?
Again that facial expression changed. Now the blue eyes glowed and the red lips glistened, a look of triumphant fervor. As though Vera too had become conscious of this creeping eroticism. Her big body stirred languorously on the bed, easing back into a similar but slightly different pose. Slightly less decorous, also. The thick thighs had fallen wide, pulling the negligee open down there, offering a provocative view of lovely bare legs all the way up. And beyond that, even allowing a glimpse of the scantily cut black undergarment that veiled the ultimate secret in between a lacy shadow, more provocative somehow than nudity itself. Judy glanced and then turned away in vexation, all but denying recognition to the added surge of excitement in her flesh. Bad enough to be stuck here like this-what a dumb predicament!- without aggravating her helplessness by letting herself get steamed up over a goddam lesbian crotch. With or without panties ...
"Well, my dear? Of your own free will?"
"I-I'll be glad to stay."
"Good. That's settled. And you'll be glad to help out around the house, I assume. To pay for your board?"
"Yes, ma'am, whatever you say."
"Let's see now. You'll fit in as a second maid, to be trained for service by Solange. I'm certain the two of you will get along just fine. And I'll keep you here, safely hidden, for at least a year or so. Until you feel absolutely sure the heat is off. And then I'll give you a nice chunk of cash as my farewell gift, besides the clothes you're bound to accumulate in that time. That's fair, isn't it?"
"Yes'm. Very fair."
"You'll have to take orders-from Solange, I mean."
"Oh. I-I understand."
"And you'll be taking orders from me too, naturally."
Judy nodded submissively. Tendrils of fear climbed the length of her spine. She wondered what she was letting herself in for. And yet the very thought was exciting in a scary way, both frightening and enticing at once. It was blackmail, pure and simple, even though the ugly word had been left unspoken. With an awful club like that over her head, what else could she do but submit?
"I guess we're agreed, then." It looked like a gesture of dismissal as Vera swung her legs over the side and rose from the bed. "You're getting a pretty good deal, you know? I do think you ought to thank me."
"Uh-huh. Thank you. Thanks very much."
"Oh, you can do it more nicely than that." The folds of the negligee swished apart. "Here. Thank me with a kiss."
Stunned by the abrupt demand, Judy sat motionless and tried to figure out just what was expected of her. A kiss on the bare belly? That was what the pose seemed to call for; she could just lean over and do it. A beautiful pose, she had to admit- that jutting belly and those voluptuously beckoning thighs, separated only by a black swath of lingerie, the tautly stretched diaphanous panties. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to the nearest target, the neatly indented navel. Perfume titillated her nostrils, luring her on into a less inhibited show of phony gratitude, a kiss that glided down across the rounded belly-swell, instinctively seeking the source of all that seductive scent. At the same time, almost unwittingly, she was sliding from the seat of the chair and sinking to her knees. Not that she didn't know why, of course; wasn't it all part of the act, another sign of submission? A highly successful act, considering the pleased response as she nuzzled into the perfumed intimacy with a muffled moan of eagerness that sounded real and unrehearsed, strangely spontaneous even to her own ears.
Then, still muffled, "Uh ... ma'am ... "
"Hmm?"
"P-panties. Umm?"
"In the way, are they? I suppose so. All right, my dear, why don't you do something about it? Be careful, though, that's a favorite pair I'm wearing-and fragile, too."
Anxiously, solicitously, Judy used both hands for the task, stretching the netlike fabric even farther, perilously near the bursting-point as she worked the bit of gossamer down over broadly flared hips and buttocks. But she managed it safely, holding the garment low as the lewdly postured figure lifted one foot after the other and stepped free. And yet even then-aroused to a new pitch herself, admittedly-she hesitated one final moment before plunging into this demonstration of sheer sexual servitude. What was happening to her? Was she really tempted by this strange situation? Could she really be turned on by this ripe female flesh? Oh shit, was this wild turn-on turning her into a goddam dyke?
And then the obscene bulge of that bare belly was extended again, a thrust this time, forceful, even arrogant, making contact and crushing every last vestige of hesitation. Ending the suspense. Even ending her reluctance, somehow. And in a sense-scarcely an instant later-ending one more tie with the outside world, the faraway world of her past; hot damn, who needs boys? This was as much fun as fucking! And a hell of a lot safer. Some thrill-wasn't it weird? Nothing at all like the kids in the reformatory, oh no, this was a cunt, a real sexy cunt, a great big woman-cunt, big enough to swallow half her face. It sure made a difference. A mouthful like this just couldn't be labeled a substitute, not for anything.
Her head tilting back, Judy sucked feverishly as the creamy-soft thighs closed in to become a kind of shelter. A bit dizzy now, she almost lost her balance and had to shoot her hands up high behind the spread legs to steady herself. That felt good, too, holding on to handfuls of that well-upholstered ass. And meanwhile she had the moist and slippery sanctuary to wallow in, all this womanly softness clinging to her cheeks, framing her face in silky-hairy flesh. Quivery hot flesh, astir with a thousand tiny pulsations and palpitations of desire still on the rise. She burrowed in with increasing fervor, inspired to an ever-deeper level of lust, licking and lapping and sucking, sucking, sucking ...
"Not bad, kid. I love that tongue of yours. Oooh! Such a nice slimy feeling, that nice slimy little tongue. Especially when it's wiggling around my clit, you know?"
"Mmm. Ummm!"
"That's it, that's it-oh, that's just grand, simply grand. Too much, though, more than a body can bear. Slow down, huh? Don't make me come yet, don't even try, just let me enjoy it nice and slow and easy ... "
It sounded like a compliment, but Judy was immediately aware of the implicit command. Nice and slow and easy. Even voiced so gently, it penetrated her befogged brain to become a reminder of her status here-a servant now, a guest no longer-and she took the lesson to heart and resolved then and there to put her youthful energy and enthusiasm to more specific use, concentrating mainly on the attainment of an expertise second to none in this new existence of hers, this era of strange servitude. Only it wouldn't be easy, of course, now that she had sampled the breathtaking pleasures of her first woman-cunt. The ecstasy was bound to interfere with her concentration.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It seemed like business as usual, having her hair brushed by the maid like this, but Judy could only wait and wonder when the storm would break. She was still being treated as a guest. Or was she? Wasn't the change already noticeable? It sure made her nervous the way Solange stood so close, wielding the hairbrush with the same calm efficiency as always but practically breathing down her back. Down the back of her neck. Petting her, too-just a sly little touch with the other hand now and then ...
"You look so nice this morning, Missy."
"Thanks."
"It's these cute little things you're wearing, I guess. Cute and sexy. Sexier than lace underwear, you know? Maybe even sexier than naked."
Judy sat rigidly upright on the vanity bench, wishing she had slipped into something less skimpy to start the day. Her rather immodest shorts-and-halter outfit was cut more like a modest bikini; it did have the look of lingerie. Pretty sexy, as much as she could see of herself in the mirror. Quite a picture! She could even see just how all that sexiness was affecting the woman, the big dark woman who was so obviously infatuated with her. It was right there reflected in the glass. And that too, just the reaction, was kind of sexy. Almost contagious. Effective enough to let her relax somewhat, anyway, eliciting a mute but amiable shrug.
"Yeah, you're one sexy little doll. Sweet baby. I could just eat you right up."
"Oh?" Judy was suddenly conscious of their locked gazes, each focused upon the other's mirror-image. On an impish impulse, she forced a weak smile and fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly. "Eat me right up, eh? So what else is new?"
Regretting it an instant later, she watched the dark-haired head bend and saw the glistening lips pursed for a kiss. It landed on her bare shoulder, the lips parting and then nuzzling around in the hollow of her neck. Now she could feel the visual image, those hungry lesbian lips, a fusion of sight and sensation to make her shudder and go stiff again. It was like an obscene offer of devotion.
"I'd eat you good, too. Lick your hot little honeypot, that's what I'd do. Until you spill your honey all over the place. How about it, Missy, you want to try this educated tongue of mine? Right here in broad daylight, wouldn't that be a kick?"
The accompanying caress turned Judy's skin wet, almost sloppy with saliva, showing off the size and supposed skill of that eager tongue. Ugh. Big old horrid red thing; talk about obscene! Another shudder wracked her body, more pronounced this time, a shuddering recoil from the nasty contact. And only after it was too late did she realize that those beady gray-green eyes were peering at the glass again, staring now, evidently shocked by the naked revulsion in her face. That ended it, the sexy overture and then the hair treatment shortly afterward-a few final brushstrokes to mask an injured pride, no doubt-and she was left alone at last, sitting there in front of the vanity with her cheeks all flushed. Breathing a sigh of relief. Or at least trying to. And trying even harder to forget what a bad note it had ended on.
Sleep was slow in coming. Judy tossed about restlessly, plagued by a sense of impending doom. It felt like a hollow in the pit of her stomach. Not queasy or quivery, just empty. She lay there expecting trouble and hoping against hope that it wouldn't materialize. Which was no way to hasten the advent of the sandman.
Nor did the nightgown help much, either. She had found it in a dresser drawer, an old-fashioned garment that hung to her ankles and then some, practically sweeping the floor. Only it didn't hang in bed, of course, it just twisted and wrinkled and made a nuisance of itself. And she was used to sleeping raw these summer nights, anyhow. It was a bit cooler tonight, true, but that wasn't the real reason for this sudden switch in sleepwear. Just a convenient excuse, nothing more. So the nightgown would stay on regardless, sacrificing comfort for a crumb of security. Not that the crummy thing helped much in that direction, either. It just felt secure, cloaking her in flannel-like virtue and innocence; who would dare lay a predatory hand on such an obviously demure little lady?
Shit!
The doom was still impending, the kind of doom that crept through the darkness leering and licking its lips, a night-crawling lesbian in search of succulent young flesh. What protection was a nightgown against such evil? Might as well try garlic or wolfbane. Or light a candle and pray, perhaps. Except that no self-respecting lesbian would be scared off by a mere candle; quite the contrary! Now a good stiff prick maybe ...
Giggling in spite of herself, Judy had a moment of peace that was followed by an immediate premonition. As though she already sensed something strange going on. A movement. An air current. A definite noise now, distant but unmistakable, the noise of a door on noiseless hinges. Moving. Opening. Closing?
"Who's there?"
"Oh, you're awake. Like you're waiting up for me, huh?"
"I-I couldn't sleep."
"Poor kid. I'll soon fix that."
"You can cure insomnia?"
"Just leave it to me. Solange's magic remedy cures anything and everything. Especially smart-ass little girls."
"Huh? How's that again?"
"You heard right. I said smart-ass. You figure maybe I didn't know you were teasing me all that time, Missy?"
"Oh ... "
"I'll bet you're sorry now. But what the hell, I'm not one to hold a grudge; let bygones be bygones, that's my motto. What do you say we begin all over again, hmm? I really do like you. I'd sure hate it if the two of us couldn't get along. I mean, uh, the idea of turning in a lousy report on you to Miz Vera ... "
The words wrenched Judy's insides. A lousy report. It sounded like a small blackmail threat, an accessory to the big one, and now for the first time-in a burst of blinding clarify-she could see the painful possibilities of her predicament. But this was hardly the moment for self-pity. Her ears picked up the faint rustle of clothing-just a robe, probably-being shed and then crumpling to the floor. An initial wisp of scent thickened to almost cloying proportions, too sweet, too spicy, too sexy? The bedsprings undulated with a creaky sigh, sagging under the extra weight, and she couldn't help but visualize that ponderous body coming to rest alongside her-the massive torso and muscular thighs, the heavily fleshed haunches!-all sinewy tension and supple elasticity. It was quite familiar to her, of course, this incredible female physique that could set an inanimate fabric astir and make a somber uniform ripple so riotously. Only now she could actually feel the intense bodily heat emanating without any barrier. Here on her bed, swathed only in intimate darkness, the woman was naked. Naked and perfumed and amorously inquisitive, one hand already exploring ...
"What the hell! You wearing a nightgown?"
"Uh-huh. Kind of cool tonight."
"Get rid of it. I won't let you freeze."
"But-"
"Come on, off with it. Bare-ass is better. Like me. I want my pretty baby nice and naked. No hassles, huh?"
The smug tone was infuriating, but Judy kept a tight lid on her temper-something she had learned back at the reformatory, with the aid of a few dictatorial matrons. That experience would probably prove beneficial here in this one-girl prison, she realized somewhat sadly. Anyway, the strong hand plucking at her nightgown would have remained deaf to any protest; why bother? It was much easier to lift her butt and let the offending garment be rucked up. Over her head and off. What choice did she have? The wheel is crooked, but it's the only wheel in town.
"Mmm ... sweet ... " The voice sounded nicer now, crooning gently in her ear. "So soft and warm and sweet ... "
Judy went tense. Fingers fluttered over her breasts, stroking, fondling, squeezing. Moist lips murmured monosyllables into the curve of her throat, gliding upward airily but with apparent purpose; was the old bitch going to kiss her? On the mouth? She sure hoped not. The idea was just too abhorrent, too loathsome-enough to make her puke. And what a mess that would be!
Solange must have sensed it, somehow. The lips took a downward turn and soon Judy felt their open warmth fasten upon her breasts. A darting tongue-tip toyed with her nipples. She shivered in reluctant response, only grudgingly aware of her excitement. Until it became inevitable, conspicuously so, an admission she simply couldn't avoid. The way her nipples were stiffening, blossoming out under all that attentive care-the hot mouth, the wet tongue-once again, what choice did she have? It was happening.
"See? They're waking up, the cute little titties, getting all hot and swollen, hmm? Missy? You like?"
"I-I wish you wouldn't ... "
"Still stubborn, eh? Smart-ass stubborn. All right, I guess we'd better come to an understanding, you and me, our own private agreement, strictly between us. First of all, I'm supposed to train you to be a maid-that's orders from Miz Vera. Only it's not just an ordinary maid, not the type you'd find in an employment agency. You'll be trained as a personal maid, a very personal maid, the kind of girl who can really satisfy her mistress. And I don't mean just giving her a manicure or rinsing out a pair of nylons, you know? I'm talking about satisfaction in bed. Where it counts. And that comes straight from Miz Vera, too. Orders. Orders for both of us, Missy-it's my job to train you and it's your job to be trained. Orders from the top. From the boss-lady. Okay? Are you getting the message so far?"
"Uh-huh. It's sinking in."
"Let it sink in deep, then. The worst is yet to come. Oh yes, there's more-maybe more than that stubborn streak of yours can handle. But we'll work on it, baby, we'll work on it together, just the two of us, until the job is finished. Only from now on we'll be doing it my way. And that means I'll be wanting you available at all times. Night and day, no vacations. Available to me! I'll own you, in a sense. You hear that? I said I'll own you. That sounds a little rough maybe, but you'll soon get used to it. You might even learn to love it after a while, won't that be nice? And in the meantime, well, just think of it as a penance for your past sins. Especially the sin of acting like a goddam teaser, a snotty little smart-ass teaser-all legs and no heart. I figure you owe me something for that, right? Damn right! So this is your chance to redeem yourself. Wipe the slate clean. Of course, if you'd rather sulk and whine about your bum rap and call me dirty names ... "
"No. I'm not that stubborn. Or that stupid."
"Good girl. You're learning already. Now let's see, where were we? Oh, yes. I was nibbling your pretty tits ... " The kiss began again, almost as if that monstrous speech had never been made. Then, within minutes, "Isn't this nice? You're getting all hot and prickly, just like before. You do like it, I can tell. Because you're mine, all mine, you little darling. You belong to me, isn't that right?"
"I-I guess so."
"You guess so? You're still not sure?"
"Oh. Yes. I'm sure."
"Then say it, damn you! Say it out loud!" A growl sounded from deep in the big woman's throat. "You're mine. You belong to me. Let's hear it now, loud and clear."
Wincing in the darkness, Judy could only gasp for breath as the kissing mouth switched tactics. No longer gentle, it was closing and clamping with vicious intent, the sharp-edged teeth ruthlessly abrasive around her swollen nipple. She struggled for a semblance of composure, just enough to regain her faculties and utter the demanded words, the magic formula that would release her mortified flesh from this cruelly capricious bondage.
"I'll say it, I'll say it. Just don't bite me, please!? I'm yours. I belong to you. Oooh, that hurts! I'll say whatever you want me to. But don't bite me any more."
Mercifully, the painful pressure slackened as the infinitely softer lips took over from those fierce teeth. There was a lot of nibbling now, soft lips supping upon sore nipples, a most soothing if somewhat ebullient remedy for this peculiar ailment. And that pair of hands helped, too, offering a welcome diversion, slipping down her flanks provocatively. Over her belly and along her thighs. Like an artist's paintbrush sweeping across a canvas, dashing off a casual nude.
"You're beginning to feel it. Missy? Getting horny?"
"Uh-huh. A little."
"Yeah. I figured you would."
There was a note of triumph in the sneering voice that Judy found positively hateful. Only it was hard to think about hatred now. Hard to do anything but lie here and let those hands caress her. Those soft but willfully perverse fingers, touching, tickling, tormenting. Like a small invading army. And growing increasingly bold with every touch. Intimately bolder! But nice, somehow. No, not nice, exciting! She was starting to lose control, twitching and jerking all of a sudden; it was like a betrayal by her own body. In another minute or two she would be popping- oh!-the fingers, where were they?
"Solange, what-"
"Shhh ... "
"But you stopped. Why did you-"
A chortle, almost derisive. "All hotted up, huh?"
"You know ... "
"I sure do. Good girl. Hot. That's how I like you." The woman's great bulk sank backward, her hands shooting out. Both hands. "Now I'll show you what I really came for."
"But-but what are you-"
"Shit! You know damn well what I want."
Judy had only a vague notion. Or maybe her mind simply refused to let her admit it. Because the grip on her shoulders was making it only too obvious, filling in the obstinate blanks. The vision came ominously alive in the night, all coarse and hairy and probably drooly with juice, sweaty, the vile cunt of Solange the maidservant. And now the big thighs were emphasizing the point-thick and heavily muscled-flailing and catching and holding on tight, shutting all sound out of her ears. No, not quite all ...
"Sure, you know; do I have to draw a diagram?"
The vision persisted, wet, glistening, grotesque. She could even smell the heat rising, an odorously hot perfume now. It was scary but strangely intriguing, giving her a slightly sickening sensation that seemed to hint of sexual excitement. And still, somehow, she managed to resist the pressure, straining against it almost out of sheer instinct.
"Stubborn again, baby? Won't do you any good. You belong to me. Or maybe you want to go through that again, huh? It's okay with me. I've got all night."
All night? Judy choked back a sob. And then she could only go limp and succumb, yielding to the combination of forces that carried her face into the mushy mess. Both hands had moved to her head, the fingers digging right in and twining among handfuls of hair. Twining and tugging and effectively foreclosing any last glimmer of freedom ...
"Give me some tongue now. Gimme! Yeah, now you've got the idea, you're catching on just fine. Like I said, Missy, you might even learn to love it. How about that?
"Ummm ... "
"No comment, eh? Just a sucking mouth. Not bad for a beginner. You need practice, of course, but you'll be okay with just a little training. Uh-huh. A real hot cuntlapper. And for trying so hard, I'm going to be extra nice to you. Swing your ass up here and maybe I'll pet it a little. You'll like that. Yeah, that's it. You like to be petted, huh?"
Like it or not, the new caress sure helped. Half-stifled in the sloppy flesh, Judy took solace from what was happening inside her own body. It was getting better all the time. Only the hand wasn't just petting her ass any more, it was between her thighs and cupping her crotch and doing something wild down there-front and back!- fingerfucking and thumbfucking and making her squirm around almost as much as the messy cunt-mush squirming around her face.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Hey, you promised to tell me about your slave Ethel. A special story, you said. Remember?"
"Special story. Did I say that? Hmm ... " Vera flashed a teasing smile, deliberately whetting her lesbian sweetheart's seemingly endless curiosity. "Oh. Must be about that time in the gas station, I guess. When we were out driving and had to stop. But it's really not such a big story. More like a minor incident."
"You're just being mean. Come on, don't leave me in suspense all over again, it's worse than flunking a climax. I'll get nervous and take a bite out, of your pretty cunt."
"Whew! Good thing we're not living together, you know? You'd have me talking my fool head off. Alison, what is it with you? I never saw such a curious girl."
"I'm sorry. But you did promise. And I just love to hear you tell about your experiences; is that a crime?"
"Okay, okay, let me get organized. I really shouldn't complain, anyway, it's great exercise for my memory. And also good practice for the headshrinker's couch. Just in case. Hey, maybe moving in together might not be a bad idea, come to think of it. Seems a shame to use both houses. This one is so big. And so is mine-too big for so few people, much too big."
"Just the two of you, right? You and your maid?"
"Three."
"Three?"
"An apprentice maid, you might say. Very young. Kind of a cute little tyke, too. I may keep her around awhile."
"You sound ... uh ... " The rosebud lips pouted. "Vera? This girl, are you interested in her? You know. Sexually."
"Could be. But she's just a servant, darling, nothing for you to be jealous about. Not ever. In fact, you'll probably get interested in her yourself eventually. If she stays, I mean. If she's not scared off by Solange's heavy-handed discipline."
"Discipline?"
"Uh-huh. Of a sort. You know how maids are about asserting authority among themselves. Below stairs. It's practically a cast system. And when an old pro takes on the job of breaking in a new kid, well, this one-Judy, her name is-oh shit, you ought to see her hopping around like a bunny rabbit afraid of its own shadow. She's more scared of Solange than she is of me-and I'm only the mistress of the house. Poor kid. But that's the system, I've been given to understand-and the mistress is expected to acknowledge such internal household matters with a certain benign neglect."
"Oh. Then it doesn't really concern you so much, does it? Uh, wouldn't it all be between those two alone, no one else, not even you? I-I don't see how it concerns you at all, Vera. Unless something goes so far wrong-
"The hell you say! It does concern me. Me, not the mistress of the house. Me, right here-Vera Carlisle-naked in bed with my naked lover, my beautiful blonde lover-girl who gets turned on by stories of lesbian slaves. You already know I'm a sensual bitch with no morals to speak of, the kind of self-indulgent bitch who never stops looking for her own brand of excitement. Or even the possibility of it, the slightest chance of scoring. I'm a dirty old man in drag, ready to sniff out any lead. Now do you really figure a hot-crotch bitch like me would go strictly by the rules and let that poor mixed-up bunny rabbit find her own fate? All those delicious possibilities! So it does concern me, it concerns the shit out of me, see? I don't even picture the kid as a maid any more, apprentice or otherwise. I like to think of her as a slave-in-training. And if that isn't concern ... "
"Vera! Slave-in-training? Aw, you're just making it up. And you're not a dirty old man, not with credentials like these. Oooh, you do have nice credentials. Darling. So what does she look like? Even if it's only half true, tell me, tell me. What have you done to her so far? And what happens next?"
"Mmm, that feels good. Careful, though, it's not something you unscrew and keep for a souvenir. No pop-top ring, my dear. Oooh, you sexy devil! I lose more darn credentials that way. And no more questions, please, at least not about what's supposed to happen next. I've got enough trouble remembering my past, the future is still a trifle hazy. Even a horoscope won't help."
"Okay. I'm easy to please. You were going to tell me about Ethel, anyway, how did we get sidetracked? Something about the two of you stopping at a gas station ... "
"Back to that again, are we? Oh well, if I must. Not on a dry throat, though. More wine? You'll have to open another bottle, I guess. Go ahead. Scat! And meanwhile I'll meditate and compose myself and pet my pussy so it won't get lonesome."
"I won't be gone that long; see how I'm scat-ting?"
Watching the nude figure glide across the carpet, Vera was once again conscious of the change taking place. Alison Laird was in the midst of an upheaval, a whole series of changes, all of them for the better-except that some of the charming demure quality had faded a little along with her inhibitions. Now her very walk seemed different, turning almost slinky, one foot in front of the other, treading an invisible tightrope while her exquisitely proportioned hips and buttocks swung wide in exaggerated rolling motions. Just short of lurid. No longer demure, certainly. And no longer so conveniently docile, perhaps-not this saucy creature!-no longer the ideal ever-pliant consistency needed for the submissive role in their carefully nurtured relationship. She might develop into a pretty good bed-slave, but it was becoming increasingly evident that her aristocratic background and breeding would always be a block against total subservience. Which was too bad, in a way, but still not exactly disastrous. It called for a major modification in plans, true, but that was hardly a reason to abandon all hope.
For that matter, Vera had already seen it coming, spotting and sifting the early warning signs with enough perceptive insight to recognize a probable trend. And she was too shrewd a campaigner not to have another scheme on tap, just in case. Oh yes, she must have been psychic that rainy night, flirting with her roadside pickup and somehow looking beyond a mere motel quickie. The contingency plan was already in operation. A workable plan, no makeshift, almost historical in scope-like something out of olden times. If the aristocrat couldn't be conquered, let her be corrupted! Wasn't that simple? Let her wallow in deliciously perverted pleasures until addiction made them mandatory. Until she herself would see the discreet convenience, at least-if not the obvious financial wisdom-of living under one roof, a kind of orgiastic togetherness. How could it fail? And in the meantime, just to keep the idea within easy reach, Vera figured on dropping a shadowy hint now and then, something to help inspiration strike when the time came.
Admittedly, much depended on young Judy now, on her response to the conditioning program, on her ability to accept and assimilate such training. And on her wholehearted cooperation, of course. But that was already in the bag-the poor kid had her soul in hock!-with fine prospects for swift and satisfactory results. The ominous threat had taught her humility, and Solange was teaching her the rest. Oh, there was just no weapon like fear ...
"Darling? Still meditating?"
"Ummm."
"Or just petting your pussy?"
"Fresh. Shut up and pour me some wine."
"I will if you tell the story. Another Chapter in the life of haughty young Mistress Vera and her doting old slave Ethel."
"Get settled down, then."
"I can't, I'm too jittery."
"Well, okay, browse around a little. If you must. But try not to interrupt me, hmm? And stay the hell out of my cunt, you hear? You know what it's bound to lead to. And this story is too short to break up into installments; after all, it was just a quick stop at a service station. Umm, uh, maybe not so quick. Anyway, we were out in the country when the engine developed a rattle, and the only place open for miles and miles was this grimy little garage with one old man on duty. He was pretty sharp, though, he located the trouble right away and went to work on it. Twenty minutes, he said, half an hour at most-so we wandered off, heading out back toward the ladies' room. You get the picture so far, honey? Out in the middle of nowhere, the two of us ... "
"I'll bet it wasn't very clean. The ladies' room."
"Don't anticipate, my dear. Who's telling this dirty story, me or you? And it's a dirty one, sure enough. What a mess! Spilled grease patches all over the gravel. Piles of worn-out tires leaning every which way. An accumulation of oil cans and rusty engine parts and just plain junk-I mean that yard out there was dirty. A garbage dump, practically. And it gave me an idea for some fun, our own special kind of fun. No, we didn't go to the ladies' room. I steered Ethel into the employees' toilet instead."
"Ugh. I sympathize with the poor woman."
"Don't waste your sympathy. She started getting excited, kind of whimpering a little, putting up some phony resistance. But loving it, of course, loving the humiliation, the degradation- that crazy kick of hers, you know? It was real smelly in there, cigarette butts and crumpled paper towels all over the floor-even some spit-gobs of filthy chewing tobacco. I told her to clean the sink off, just the front rim of it for me to lean against. She worked on it with a rag and some thick pasty soap from a can, scrubbing off layers of grease to get it white enough for my ass. You should have seen her hands in that stuff, manicured nails, diamond rings, the soft skin she was so proud of- all buried in dirty soapsuds. Afterward, she even had trouble washing the gooey gook off. But she finally got it done-a clean spot for me to rest-and I just rucked up my skirt and parked my ass on the edge of the sink and told her to get busy and do a suck-job on my cunt ... "
Vera's voice faded to a sporadic murmur as she allowed her mind to drift momentarily, carrying her back, all the way back to relive that strange scene once again. The sights, the smells, the sounds-a glut upon her senses, an outrage to her sensibilities. The hoarse breathing, the noxious atmosphere, the vision of her tight skirt sliding high on her spread thighs. And that masochistic rich bitch sinking to her knees amid the debris, unconscious of her own torn hose, her soiled dress, her expensive furs dragging in tobacco juice- conscious only of her assigned task, the self-abasement, a voluptuously adoring cuntlapper turning the cesspool into a shrine ...
"Please. Let me-"
"So soon, Alison? Horny for those kissing lips down there? All that fidgeting around. Tell you what-since you're so hot for my cunt, so impatient to stick your nose into it, why don't you do what Ethel used to? Just put your face there; hey, what's the rush, can't you take it easy? Don't suck, just rest like that while I finish my story. Uh-huh. That's it. And you needn't moan, it's tough on me too, all this waiting. Oh well, go ahead and lick a little if you have to. Do it slow, though, lick me nice and slow, make it last. I don't want to come yet."
"Mmm? This all right?"
"Just fine. When the time comes, I'll cream a mouthful for you, darling. Like I did for Ethel in the garage toilet; oh, I came like crazy. And she just groveled and gulped it down and acted as if that was the end of the world, the two of us sharing a beautiful orgasm in that ugly pigsty. And then she looked up and licked her lips and told me that this grimy little lavatory in this grimy little gas station had actually seemed like heaven to her for a few moments. How's that for a slave-girl, huh?"
"Nnngg. I-I can't wait. Vera?"
"Yeah, lover. You want it? You like my cunt?"
"Your cunt, your beautiful cunt, I love it, I love to suck your beautiful cunt ... "
"Do it, then. My beautiful cuntlapper."
"Hmm?"
"You don't care for the name? Getting prudish? Cuntlapper? But that's what you are, darling. Better get used to it. Cuntlapper. Come on now, say it out loud, say it right into my cunt, you know how. And then you can finish me off good."
"Mmmfff. Nnngg. C-cuntlapper!"
Vera loved it, asserting herself, keeping the upper hand. It wasn't so necessary now, hardly requisite to the cause, but she liked doing it anyway. For her own personal pleasure, what else? The joy of command, of conquest; ah, such a feeling! Marvelous. A sort of exaltation, almost. An exaltation of the mind while that beautiful cuntlapper exalted her body.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The swarthy thighs caught Judy's face between them. With power to spare, the big dark woman tightened her grip. Then, abruptly-having demonstrated her coercive control-she let her legs go limp again, muttering an order that now seemed doubly imperative because of its painful prelude.
Not that the show of authority was necessary. Judy was already kissing the hair. It tickled her nose lightly, but the sensation was somewhat less than appealing. And then, quite aware that her performance would be judged for enthusiasm as well as technique, she quelled her chagrin and plunged her face into the black bush, shooting her tongue into the flesh beyond. Moistly slobbering flesh that opened like another mouth, a sucking pair of lips to invite the thrust deeper. Ugh. What a slimy mess! Sometimes she wondered if the eventual payoff could ever be worth such a sacrifice. Her perfect hideout had sure developed some ugly flaws.
Some hideout. In a way, it was even worse than the reformatory. There, at least, an inmate had certain civil rights. But then again, well, what good was all that civil rights crap without hope? If she got picked up now, there would be no escape for her, nothing but a sentence to serve-and not under minimum security. Here, she still had a chance. Anyway, her mind was already made up; wasn't it safer all around to just grit her teeth and hang on? Stick it out. Swallow her pride and wait for better days; sooner or later it was bound to happen, her world would be beautiful once again, big and beautiful and a lot more satisfying than this hairy old hole between Solange's grabby legs. Only it seemed so far away yet. Now there was even talk of putting her in uniform, dressing her like a real maid-as though they planned to keep her here forever. Hmm. Dressing her as a maid, training her as a lady-lover, a glutton for pussy; were they trying to make some kind of lesbian body-slave out of her? Only she just wasn't a glutton for this pussy ...
"Kid, you've got a lot to learn."
"Ummm?"
"But I'm too hot to start teaching you now. Roll over. I'll just have to make myself come on your face."
"Hmm?"
"You heard me. Over you go. On your back! I'm going to fuck that pretty face of yours."
Aghast at the abrupt switch, Judy could only moan and move in a hurry, yielding to the forceful hands and scrambling into position. The big bare crotch was already poised above her head, black and furry and practically oozing with steamy slime. It looked awful. All that mucky-wet hair! And those awesome ass-cheeks hunkering down, spreading in gleeful anticipation. She throttled the scream in her throat and then found herself suddenly struggling for breath, all but asphyxiated under the oppressive and still settling cunt-flesh. Hopefully, she stuck her tongue up into it, poking around for some responsive clue from above, some way to induce a hasty orgasm and end this horrendous ordeal.
The effort went in vain, though. And then her frantically searching tongue was simply disregarded as the rocking motion began. Only her face was being used. Her upturned and very vulnerable face. The great body rocked over it heavily, the damp crotch swinging like a slithery pendulum, gradually dulling her senses with its ponderous pressure. Somehow it didn't seem so bad now; in fact, she was almost comfortable lying there on her back like that, almost cheerfully resigned to the prolonged face-washing. All that nice warm softness. If it got no worse than this, she wouldn't really mind at all. She could even recognize its infectious impact already, a familiar warmth awakening in her own loins ...
"I'm getting there, kiddo. Just hold steady for me. Yeah. You're a good face-fuck, I'll say that for you. But how about some tongue now, hmm? Watch it, you'll know when. Every time I slow down, shoot it right into me-that tongue of yours-don't be bashful. Right up my cunt. Yeah, that's it, hot and wet and slippery, that's how a tongue ought to be. Good girl. Now try it like this. Go ahead, do my asshole. Lick it, lick it, give me your tongue! I want that fucking tongue in deep, you hear?"
But it was already happening, of course-I'll fuck her ass with my fucking tongue!-even the slow rocking had narrowed down to a stop and Judy could actually feel the concentrated weight growing heavier on the wedge-cushion of her face. It was new to her, the obscene thing she was doing, and somehow the very obscenity of it added a certain fuel to the fire. A highly volatile fuel, as it turned out, exploding in a holocaust of hot desire. Because it was happening, sure enough, she was licking a lesbian's ass and loving it. Even this lesbian's ass! It was like a revelation, a new dimension, a whole new perspective. And now, for the first time-in this lewdly pleasurable act of bestowing pleasure-she became aware of a sweet submissiveness within herself, a need to go on giving, granting every wish and indulging every whim of this bitchy boss of hers. Her assigned instructor and self-appointed owner. And again for the first time, she followed her submissive bent to its logical conclusion and at last accepted the woman's claim of ownership. Possession. At this point, anyway, her tongue was certainly owned, every elongated inch of it, ingested and impounded by the deeply furrowed flesh that allowed no respite. Lesbian ass-flesh. A dirty old lesbian's bossy asshole, wasn't that a weird twist?
Weird but somehow quite wonderful, Judy decided. Although she couldn't help wishing it might have been someone more beautiful. A beautiful lesbian with a more beautiful ass ...
"Oh, it's you. Darling, how nice of you to call."
"Do you have time to talk? I'm not interrupting anything?"
"Silly. I'll always have time for you. By the way, how's that sexy tongue of yours today? My cunt feels just fine."
"Oh, come now, must you? Vera?"
"Don't be such a prude, it doesn't become you. Even your tongue isn't prudish any more, right? Quite the contrary, I'd say. And if you'd like a witness to that, I'm sure my sleepy but contented cunt will be glad to speak up and-"
"Please. I'm embarrassed just listening to you. Must you talk like that over the telephone?"
"There you go again. Prissy, prissy. You're a strange breed, Alison, I never met a prissy cuntlapper before. You figure maybe somebody's getting an earful? If so, let's not disappoint 'em- just breathe hard and it'll sound like an obscene phone call, the real thing, you know? Otherwise, forget it, only politicians get bugged and taped. Anyway, I kind of enjoy it, talking over the wire like that. It's supposed to be sophisticated."
"It-it sounds so dirty."
"Just dirty? That's your only impression?"
"Well, uh, sexy too, I guess. Sexy-dirty? Oh, the hell with it, let's change the subject. That's why I called in the first place, I've got something to tell you."
"Shoot. What's on your mind?"
"Uh, now I'm not sure how to say it. Vera, you've hinted a couple of times about our living together. Anyhow, you brought up the idea often enough to make me give it some thought, so it's only fair to tell you how I feel. My reaction is negative, I'm afraid, strictly negative. If we moved in together it would be like an open declaration to the world-a lesbian marriage, practically. And I'm not ready for that. Think of the gossip, the possible scandal. No, it just won't work, darling. Besides, if I ever do get over my block against men ... "
"Uh-huh. I get the picture."
"You do understand, don't you? Vera?"
"Well, uh, I'm disappointed, naturally. But if that's the way you feel about it ... "
"I-I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, it's no great tragedy. I'm glad you got it off your mind, Alison. Case closed. I won't mention it again. Of course, if you should ever decide otherwise ... "
"No. No chance of that."
"Like I said, then-case closed. Okay? And now it just so happens that I've got something on my mind."
"Oh? Do tell?"
"About my little slave-girl. Judy. I'd like to bring her over sometime soon. She's so well-trained. I want to show her off to you."
"So soon? Darling, I had no idea. I thought the training period was supposed to take ages. From what you said ... "
"I thought so, too. But she's coming along so nicely-well, I'm just dying for you to meet her. She looks so cute in her new outfit. I had it made up for her, a maid's uniform, the sexy kind, frivolous rather than practical. Like a sexy French maid, you know?"
"Uh-huh. But that's a bit confusing, isn't it? Is she a maid or a slave? I wouldn't know how to treat her. If you brought her over, wouldn't she just be my guest?"
"Don't let that bother you, my dear. We'll skip the uniform, she's really not used to it yet anyway. So as far as you're concerned, the kid can be a guest-if that's any easier. But never mind the details, just give me an answer; shall I bring her? Somehow whenever I mentioned it before, you sounded interested but not very enthusiastic."
"Oh. But it's simpler over the telephone- without the distraction of your body, I mean. You know how I get when we're together. I just can't think of anyone else. Right now I'm still not exactly enthusiastic-just interested, I guess-but by all means, Vera darling, do bring your little slave-girl over for a visit. There now, does that answer your question?"
"It's a lovely answer, angel. Hmm. If we had TV telephones, would my body distract you? I'm lying here naked. Nekkid as a jaybird, I think the expression goes."
"Hush ... "
"All naked. Tits, Ass. Cunt. Naked and lonesome for your sweet lips. Does that mean anything to you?"
"It means I'm getting excited."
"That's nice. Touch yourself."
"Huh?"
"Check and see, are you really excited? Between your legs. Is it wet down there? Just from talking with me?"
"Oh. All right. Sexy bitch. Yes, it's wet."
"Keep touching it. Wiggle your finger."
"Vera!"
"Well, you did call me a sexy bitch. So it shouldn't surprise you if I talk like one. Come on now, do it, wiggle your finger, do it inside your cunt and tell me how it feels."
"So sexy ... sexy-dirty ... "
"Fun though, hmm? Do it like a wiggly tongue. The way your own tongue wiggles when you're sucking me, do it like that. A kind of gentle fingerfuck, you know?"
"Sexy-dirty, oooh, and over the telephone, imagine!"
"It works, doesn't it?"
"Need you ask? It works, it works."
"Horny girl. Horny little angel ... "
"I-I'd better hang up now."
"Alison, don't you dare!"
"Hmm? No?"
"Don't hang up. I want to hear you come. And lick your lips and think of me while you're doing it. Think of my cunt. Are you thinking about my cunt, darling?"
"Yesss ... your cunt, your beautiful cunt ... "
"Horny little cuntlapper."
"Cuntlapper. I'm a horny little cuntlapper. Oh, you make me so hot! Vera? You getting hot, too?"
"I'll say. Hot and horny. Oh, if I only had that pretty face of yours between my thighs right this minute ... "
"Mmm ... lapping your cunt ... "
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A lot of wine had gone down, and yet it was like a genteel social gathering thus far. Three ladies sipping sedately. But that was only a surface impression, of course, and Alison remained all knotted up inside. It was bound to begin soon. They were already in her bedroom-at Vera's suggestion-and that alone would have been enough to create a certain anticipation. In this perfumed atmosphere, wasn't it obvious that they were three lesbian ladies? Or two ladies and a girl, rather. A very young girl, too young to be dabbling in such perverted pleasures. Or was she?
Alison felt a twinge of guilt, aware now that her reluctance was giving way to impatience. Such a delightful little creature, so respectful of her elders. And yet kittenishly coy too, somehow, almost coquettish at odd moments, doubtless inspired by the sensuality, the sexual significance of this strange meeting. Hardly cause for a guilty conscience! Those soft brown eyes, for instance, the eyes of a wise old woman in the face of a child, eyes that belied the apparent innocence of that tender young mouth; what better clue to base a considered judgment on? Certainly it couldn't be based on her body, a picture of demurely dressed adolescence-the seated pose almost prim, stiffly upright, knees together. Quite a contrast with her lazily postured mistress, all but lounging on the bed; leave it to Vera to hog the limelight! Even now, her skirt seemed to be still on the rise, riding upward to reveal and call attention to voluptuously intimate thigh-flesh. As if she knew only too well that her audience was secretly licking its collective lips. And as if she wasn't at all worried about how and when the real intimacy would begin. Which only served to increase the tension- and the wine-bibbing, naturally, turning ladylike sips into nervous gulps.
After a while, the youngster excused herself and trotted off to the bathroom, blushing rather becomingly but moving with an unwitting sway of hips and buttocks, incongruously sexy. As the door closed behind her, Vera's smile became a chuckle.
"Cute, isn't she? You saw the blush?"
"Uh-huh. Very pretty."
"Almost as rosy-red as your own. Nice, huh? A slave-girl who hasn't forgotten how to blush. I just hope she doesn't change. But they all do, I guess-we all have to grow up."
"Like me, you mean."
"Oh, you still do it. Not as often maybe, but still as pretty as ever. And you'll probably be blushing long after the kid has had it knocked out of her. Which could be soon, I'm afraid. The tough training, you know-it's bound to happen working under Solange, learning how to keep a mistress happy, learning how to suck, learning to love cunt ... "
"Poor kid."
"You're sympathetic, at least. I'm glad of that. I was beginning to think you didn't like her at all, Alison. Either that or you're getting prissy again, just sitting there like a bump on a log."
"I-I was just waiting for something to happen. Waiting for you to make the first move."
"Oh? In that case, we might as well start right now. Come on over here, it's more comfortable on the bed."
"Shouldn't we wait till-"
"Come here! Or do I have to drag you?"
The long arm was already stretching out for her, too decisive to be ignored, and Alison found herself obeying like a puppet on a string. Sinking to the bed, she shivered rapturously as a hot-breathed whisper scorched her ear.
"There now, isn't this much better? Try to relax, darling. Relax with me now, then you'll feel relaxed and ready for Judy later. You two should get to know each other, I mean really know-so that there won't be any of this stiffness between you. So that you can have her here alone sometimes, just the two of you together, you and my sexy little slave-girl. Only she'll be your slave-girl then-for the night or however long you want to keep her; wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't you like an ever-ready little slave serving you? It's a thrill, believe me. And that's what she's been trained for, to please her mistress, even a temporary one, a mistress for just an hour maybe. You'll see."
"I-I still don't feel-"
"Let's get relaxed now. Nice and naked, hmm? Come on. What do I have to do, seduce you all over again? Aren't you my cuntlapper, my favorite cuntlapper?"
A numbness pervaded Alison's flesh-and with it came the other thing, the overwhelming excitement of submission, the perverse thing that she dreaded but couldn't do without. Her clothing was already in disarray. And now she was doing it herself, undressing hurriedly and even trying to assist her lover. So that they could both be naked, all nice and naked ...
"Yeah. You're hot now. Hot enough to suck me good. Oh, I do want my cunt lapped tonight. And you want to lap it. Lucky me. Lucky you. A sizzling cunt and a starving cuntlapper. You are a cuntlapper, aren't you?"
"Oh. Must we-"
"Don't dodge the question. I'd like an answer."
"You know the answer. Please. Vera. Can't we wait until we're alone? Talking dirty, I mean. What if she hears us?"
"You'd better say it. Answer me. Or else I'll get mad and make you shout it out loud. You want that?"
"N-no. Please. I-I'm a cuntlapper."
"You're my cuntlapper."
"Yesss ... "
"My cuntlapper. Let's hear it now, once more. And you'd better not give me any trouble." Vera rose from the bed abruptly, her voice ringing with cold fury. "On your knees this time. Here! Down on your knees where you belong. Cuntlapper!"
It was a new low in humiliation. The lowest. But the excitement prevailed, mounting monstrously now, and Alison suffered in shame but dropped to the floor without further protest, an obsequious figure groveling in humble homage. "I'm your cuntlapper. Yours!"
"Oh, I like that. And so do you, I'll bet. Here then, here's my cunt-be good to it, you horny cuntlapper!"
Hands grabbed and tugged, dragging Alison along as the statuesque body sagged and fell back upon the bed. It was a frenzied scramble for a moment, but she managed to retain some degree of contact throughout the maneuver even as her soul shrieked for release. There was a warm weakness inside her, a weakness that insisted on following the path of least resistance. Or was it the most pleasure? Regardless, she couldn't fight against all that power, the demand, the hands-and now the clasp of those big soft thighs. Nor was she even hesitant any more as the great hairy split opened to engulf her. It seemed only natural to use her lips and mouth and tongue for this all-important caress, only natural to make an all-out effort to keep her luridly arrogant lover from blowing up. After all, wasn't she a willing and comparatively well-trained cuntlapper?
That was when it happened, just as she was about to concentrate on her now-welcome task. Not that it could have affected her performance much, judging by the flesh writhing moistly around her buried face, an undiminishing response. But it did startle her, interfering at least momentarily-so remote, just a faint touch way down there on her foot! Or was it just imagination? Mildly disoriented, she took stock and realized that her body was still angled across the bed in haphazard fashion, face-down and comfortably asprawl, one leg dangling over the edge. Unmistakably now- although without the benefit of any similar previous experience-she recognized the unfamiliar and certainly unexpected contact as a kiss. A kiss on the foot; who but a slave-girl would do such a thing? Such a toe-tingly feeling! And wasn't it sweet of the kid to sneak in like that, softening the impact of her intrusion so unselfishly? Charming, utterly charming. And clever, too, really quite ingenious.
Alison moved a little, just enough to convey her interest in this wistfully passionate approach. She arched her foot with a tiny peremptory wriggle, hopeful and then triumphant as the wet lips parted and sucked on her toes. Eagerly submissive lips, striving to please and making her acutely conscious of new erotic possibilities. All the more so as the kiss gained confidence and began to travel. Up her leg. Toward her cunt. A cuntlapper of her own, how nice! But no, it wasn't like that at all, not in this position, and she could already feel her plump cheeks spreading open to admit those busy lips- kissing my ass?-and now that hot little tongue-tip was probing the crack, licking deep inside and searching for something deeper, burrowing right in back there-there-and it was all she could do to hang on for dear life and go on sucking cunt while her overheated rear end jiggled and jutted up for more of that deliciously sexy-dirty tongue.
Preparing for bed, Vera came to the conclusion that the evening had gone off with comparative success. Not as well as expected, though, and for that she had only herself to blame. This urge for sexual domination, was it really that necessary? Did she have to play the loud-mouthed boss every time?
Not that it hadn't been smoothed over, of course. But it was only too apparent now that her revised judgment of Alison's nature had been quite accurate. The wealthy young divorcee simply refused to be forced into a totally submissive role. Tonight, as it turned out, she had actually resented being put through her paces with the kid around. And she had said so, in no uncertain terms, after it was ended, fuming over the indignity of being forced into their usual "slavery" game when there was a real slave-girl present. Or even within hearing distance. Wounded pride, no doubt-a matter of vanity, pure and simple-which might have become troublesome indeed had the aggravation been allowed to fester.
In a way, then, the incident hadn't been so bad. Vera had learned something from it and was smart enough not to make the same mistake twice. Better yet, the reproach had put her back on course, serving as a reminder of the insecurity of her precarious position. Hadn't she already decided that her own pleasure should be secondary at this point? And with that in mind, she had recovered from the blow brilliantly-quick thinking, old girl!-with a tentative but well-received suggestion that she leave early and let the threesome become an experimental twosome. A stroke of genius! It was going on right this minute actually, the little slave was spending the night there and probably accomplishing miracles by her presence. Certainly it was a giant step in the planned corruption of that aristocratic blonde beauty, a giant step on the road to financial security-and wasn't that what this sexy affair was all about?
Okay. All's well that ends well. Vera's spirits perked up considerably. Except that she still felt a bit restless, naturally, an obvious consequence of her unforeseen early departure from what was supposed to have developed into an all-night orgy. The sacrifice had brought peace of mind, but it sure wasn't doing anything for her frustrated body. No great problem, though, not with an outlet for her frustration so conveniently close. Grinning in anticipation, she surrendered to the sudden impulse and took the shortest possible route toward sexual satisfaction-naked, what else?- spurning even a pair of slippers in her erotic haste. Like a thief in the night, she padded through the hall. Or a rapist, more likely, a sneaky rapist on the prowl. Uh-huh. The room was dark and her vulnerable rape-victim lay asleep.
"Solange?"
"Mmmff ... "
"Wake up. I need you."
"Ummm. Huh?"
The mattress shuddered and sagged under Vera's knee. She reached down, grabbing for a handful of hair from the lolling head beneath her. And as she looped her other knee across the sleep-drugged face, a warm breath rose to greet her from below, tickling her crotch. It was like a guide for her settling body. Slowly, languorously, the drowsy servant came out of her stupor.
Vera quivered, keenly aware of the sensation, continuing her descent less cautiously now. She moved with abrupt force at the last instant, catching the upturned face between her bare buttocks. Then she held still and waited, wondering now about the impulse that had propelled her into this comparatively unfamiliar position. Even in reclining comfort, it wasn't one of her favorite caresses. The idea must have been left over from earlier in the evening, a recollection of Judy's servile attitude toward Alison. Were they still doing it over there, having a kiss-ass orgy of their own? Regardless, it seemed unfair to come home frustrated and make poor old Solange bear the burden.
Then again, maybe the burden was quite bearable. A whimper sounded faintly, muffled in flesh, piteous but not exactly a sign of protest. There was no struggle down there, no attempt to escape, and Vera could only assume that the imprisoned face had already become reconciled to its prison. And she was sure of it a moment later, squirming in sudden delight as the unmistakable thrust of a tongue ended all doubt. An eagerly amorous tongue-right up my asshole!-bidding her a fond welcome with enthusiastic familiarity; after all, the lewd caress itself was hardly new to their longtime relationship. Only the position. And now that too might become part of the routine, an already proven innovation, already successful in transforming the suspended stupor into a state of highly animated activity. As though poor old Solange didn't mind being burdened at all. Such devotion! Wasn't it really a demonstration of love?
Perched there in all her naked glory, Vera felt like a queen on a throne. No more worries, no forebodings about the future. Everything was coming up roses. Roses, roses, roses. She could even feel it in her rosy red asshole. Oh shit, it was like sitting on a rosebush, thorns and all. Just thorny enough to prickle a bit and keep her from getting careless.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The gentle caress was just too lovely to risk losing. Judy kept her eyes shut, feigning sleep as slowly burgeoning desire encroached upon sweet serenity. But last night's contentment was no match for the fresh excitement skittering over her skin. Oh, if she could only keep them both! Yesterday she had felt a trifle queasy but hadn't really minded being handed over like a piece of merchandise; after all, a kid in her predicament was bound to run into some rough treatment. Now, though, awakening from a lovely dream to find an even lovelier reality, she was saving the queasi-ness for her return trip. There was nowhere she would rather be than right here in this strange house, here on the bed of her overnight owner, the beautiful golden-haired heiress who looked like a movie star and acted like an angel ...
"Darling? Judy?"
"Hmm?"
"You awake?"
"Of course. I've been awake. Couldn't you tell?"
"Oh. Forgive me. I just had to do it, darling. The way you were lying there asleep, so sweet ... "
"It's all right. What time is it?"
"Early. There's plenty of time. You don't have to go yet. I only wish you didn't have to go at all. Not ever."
"Me too. But we can pretend, can't we? Alison? Just for a little while?"
"It won't be easy."
"Do that some more. What you were doing. Cuddle me?"
"Mmm ... such a cuddly baby ... "
"Oooh!"
"You like?"
"As if you didn't know. How could I help it? When you're doing that to me, I have to bite my lips to keep from screaming. I never knew anything could feel so good."
"Silly. Go ahead and scream. My servants are old and hard of hearing. Aside from being half-decrepit. Anyway, they're downstairs in the other wing at this hour."
"No screaming, maybe I'll just moan a little. Are you serious about the servants? Old and deaf? If so, you really do need me-and not just for this. I mean this, you know? I'd keep the place clean and take care of your clothes and-"
"No! Not like a maid. You shouldn't have to work, Judy, not a pretty little girl like you. I'd just want you to stay young and beautiful and sexy- and terrific in bed, of course-just as you are now. That's all the work I'd expect of you. If you can call that working. No maid service, you're not built for it."
"Oh, please, I'd want to do it, everything, whatever needs to be done. I'd wait on you, take care of you, be your personal maid in every way possible. I wouldn't be happy otherwise."
"Well ... " Alison giggled. "Are we still pretending? Arguing about something that's out of our reach? You belong to Vera, not to me. Isn't that the way you're supposed to feel about her?"
"I-I guess so. But I don't, really, not like I feel about you. Only please don't tell her, she might get mad. And then I'd probably have that bossy old housekeeper of hers on my neck."
"Her maid, you mean? Solange?"
"Housekeeper or maid or whatever. The one with muscles like a linebacker. Big old bitch. She can make it real rough on me, you know?"
"She-she beats you?"
"No, not exactly. Just a smack on the fanny once in a while, something like that. She pinches a lot, though, and I'm never sure if she's trying to get sexy or just showing me who's boss. With her it's all the same, pretty much."
"You two don't get along, I gather."
"Oh, we get along fine-as long "as I jump whenever she snaps her fingers. I just hate her guts, that's all. And if she ever heard that, I'd have my head handed to me. I-I don't know why I'm telling you all this ... "
"I'm glad you are, darling. It means you trust me. And you should, too-I'm no tattletale. I don't like Solange either, from what I've seen of her- which isn't much, I'm glad to admit, since our paths seldom cross. For that matter, I'm not overly fond of Vera at this point, but that shouldn't be any concern of yours. I do think you've got more to tell me, though. If you're so unhappy over there, why don't you just pack up and move out? Stay here with me and we won't have to pretend any more."
"It sounds wonderful. Except for one small detail. I got into trouble once and it's something Vera knows about, something she's using as a hold over me. I'm just not free to come and go as-"
"You got into trouble? Tell me about it."
"I-I'd rather not."
"As you wish. I won't pry into your private affairs. But if there's even the slightest chance that I might be in a position to help, well ... "
Gratitude swelled in Judy's heart, gratitude for this obviously sincere offer of assistance. For a moment she even had an urge to speak up, to confess, to tell her sweet friend about the whole ugly mess. But she didn't dare. Alison Laird lived in a different world, a nice clean world; she might not understand how a poor kid could get bogged down in the dirt of that other world. And anyway, it wouldn't be fair to make someone like that share her anguish. What could anybody do about it?
"Thanks. I do appreciate it, believe me. But I'd rather you didn't get involved, Alison, it's too great a risk. Especially if I tried to leave Vera just to be with you. She's so possessive. It's as if she owns me, you know?"
"Nobody owns you but me. You're mine, darling, but only because you want to be. I'm already involved, don't you understand? Last night was like a revelation for me, it was something brand-new and glorious and I don't want to lose it. If it comes to a showdown, I'll fight for you, I'll fight Vera tooth and nail."
"No. You mustn't fight, it would only get me in deeper. We'll have to find some other way."
"We'll find it. I promise. But you'll have to tell me what it's all about; how else will I know where to look? I've got to be sure of the facts, whatever it is that gives her such a powerful hold over you. And if you still won't tell me, I'll just snoop around and dig it all up myself somehow. I can't quit. I'm the most involved woman you ever saw in your life."
That did it. Taking shelter in all that strength and determination, Judy became a weak and helpless child again, a luxury she hadn't known for years. And she spilled her story-the reformatory, the escape, the pickup, the threat of exposure-a horror story if ever there was one. It seemed so easy to talk now, safe and secure in the scented warmth of this cozy embrace. She felt good just hearing her own voice utter the words aloud; somehow the dark secret seemed less formidable out in the open. Hardly less despicable though, as her outraged listener was quick to point out.
"Oh, that bitch, that dirty blackmailing bitch! She would do it, too, call the police if you crossed her up."
"I'm sure of it. Not that I couldn't lead them a merry chase, if and when the time came. I might even make it, run away and never get caught. But that would mean leaving you."
"No, you mustn't think of running away. We're going to work it out right, darling. All it takes is influence-and good legal advice, of course. And I've got both, thank heaven. With enough money to buy the entire political administration if necessary. But let's not jump the gun. First things first. I'll call Vera now and get in touch with my lawyer later today. Hand me the phone, will you?"
"You're calling Vera? I don't understand. What for? I hope you're not going to tell her about-"
"Hush. That comes later. After I've gotten the okay from my lawyer. Right now, though, I'm going to fix it so that you can stay here. It'll only be for a few days, a week maybe, as far as Vera is concerned. I'm sure she'll agree to that. It's what she wants, for some strange reason-the two of us together. And then I'll ask her to bring your clothes over, just casually, something to wear while you're here. She might even suggest it herself, especially your new outfit, the sexy maid stuff-that's one of her pet projects, too, showing you off like that. Or so it would appear. Again for some strange reason, something in that devious mind of hers. And she'll be getting her wish, the two of us together, me and my sexy little maid-temporarily, of course. Only she won't know what we know, that it's not temporary at all. You see, sweetheart, our pet project is already under way. You're not going back there again. Never! The blackmailer has had her last crack at you. And so has her maid with the muscles, the one who likes to pinch. Now what do you think of that?"
"You-you really mean it ... "
"Every word. You'll see. That's how it'll work out."
"I could kiss you."
"Hold it. You'll get your chance. Now be still and don't distract me, I've got to put myself in the mood to make that darn phone call. Like an actress going onstage, you know? I have to sound nice to the bitch. Oh well ... "
The call went through. Listening intently, Judy was amazed at the smooth performance of her new friend, truly the work of a con-artist. Only she couldn't hear it objectively, not with her own immediate future at stake. Her heart was swelling again, overflowing with gratitude as the conversation over the wire lived up to every expectation. And even before it ended, she slipped from the bed and knelt on the floor and kissed Alison's bare foot.
From above, she heard the noise of the phone hanging up, but that was all. Nothing to guide her. It was like a gentle permissiveness, quite different from the demanding domination she had grown accustomed to. Anyway, she could take her time now and pay homage to these beautiful bare feet. The soles especially, oh yes, she loved licking the soles, wondrously soft and smooth, tickling them with the tip of her tongue. And then lapping, lapping, kind of like a thirsty dog working on a pan of water. She was doing it well too, judging by all the twitching and quivering and carrying on up there, enough to make the bed shake.
"Judy?"
"Mmm. Let me, let me."
"Uh-huh. But-"
"It's my way of saying thank you. Like this. Just let me kiss you and kiss you and kiss you ... "
"Down there at my feet? It's more like worshiping me, isn't it? But who am I to complain? I've never really been worshipped before. You know, I rather like it. Do you?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you like it? Worshiping me?"
"Nnngg ... "
"How's that again?"
"I like it. I love it. I love you."
"Yes, darling. I know. It's happening. We're falling in love, really and truly in love."
"Really and truly. Ummm ... "
"Oooh, that tickles. But you're not going to stay down there all day, are you? You're supposed to be thanking me, remember? Your own way of saying thank you. In that case, you ought to thank the rest of me, too."
"Yesss. I want to."
"All over? With that nice loving tongue of yours. Hey, don't rush, do my feet a little more first. The toes, lick my toes. Ah, that's divine, darling. I just love your wiggly tongue in between, you know? Between the toes. Like a tongue bath."
"Tongue bath ... "
"Oh, all right. Wait, though, let me roll over. Never mind thanking all of me. I guess we both know what ... "
"Hmm?"
"Last night. The first time. That must have been when it happened. When we fell in love. So do it some more and let's fall in love all over again. Darling?"
"Oh yes, I'm in love with your ass, your beautiful ass, and I'll suck and kiss and tongue ... nnnggg ... "
"Tongue. Fuck! Fuck my ass!"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was as if the rug had been pulled right out from under her feet. Sitting there and hearing herself being scolded, Vera could only hope that the anger was a passing thing that wouldn't affect the outcome of her plans.
"Never again, you hear me?" Alison was pacing back and forth, her negligee billowing and flapping around her nude body, a picture of wrath. "I played your game, but that's over and done with. No more. I won't be taken advantage of. Fun is fun, but I am not a slave-girl."
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I had no idea you were still upset about it. You sounded so nice on the phone. You know. When you called me and asked if you could keep the kid a few more days. Uh, where is she? Is everything working out all right for you? She's a doll, isn't she?"
"Don't change the subject. Never mind about Judy, she won't be interrupting us. I gave her some chores to do, just to keep her out of the way. This is between you and me, Vera. I've been trying to forget it, that's why I sounded nice to you. But then I keep remembering other things too, right from the start-and it was all pretty ugly, I'm beginning to realize. And the more I think about it ... "
"I-I'm sorry."
"So you've been saying. Over and over. Like a broken record. Only it isn't enough, damn you! Not after the way you treated me all that time, making me grovel at your feet, practically. It just isn't enough to say you're sorry."
"Please ... " Vera rose swiftly and caught the girl in an eager embrace, quite desperate now. "Don't you care for me any more?" But the young body remained coolly rigid, and at last she sank to her knees in abject apology, throwing her arms around the bare thighs inside the open negligee. "Darling? Please!
"So? Please what?"
"Please ... I'm begging you ... "
"Well, that's a little better. What are you begging for?"
"Don't be angry. Just let me love you."
"Hah!"
The arrogantly posed figure remained stiff, but there was no brush-off either, no attempt to escape Vera's clutch. A good sign, she decided. Or at least not a bad one. Relaxing her grip a bit, she tilted her head back and peered up hopefully. The dark eyes were hard, uncompromising; she shuddered and dropped her gaze, hiding herself like an ostrich, burying her face in the shelter of the smooth young limbs.
Again there was a certain stiffness, again no effort to push her away. She brought her hands into play, in back at first, and then gradually moving them around to the front, lifting her head and concentrating on the apparently successful caress, aware now of a relaxation of tension. The lovely legs quivered slightly and inched apart in response to the affectionate urging of her fingers, affectionate but still deferential, exerting no more than the mildest hint of pressure. The girl's posture was still pretty haughty, but there were increasingly noticeable indications of better times to come.
Vera felt a resurgence of her old confident attitude. The cause was far from lost. Anyway, she was on the right track here, that seemed obvious now. It wasn't exactly to her liking, this meekly apologetic approach, but desperate situations called for desperate measures, and at this point she could only take the pragmatic view and do whatever was necessary. After all, the plan itself was still working, the slave-girl was still in the house and the lesbian corruption process was still in progress. This temperamental display of arrogance might even be part of it, for that matter. At worst, it was just a minor setback.
Humility, then. Vera stroked the ivory skin sensuously, sliding her hands up between the slowly spreading thighs, caressing the soft inner surfaces. Delectably soft. Once again she moved her face into them, quite deliberately this time, aware now of an unexpected rise of excitement within herself. Not that it was such a miracle really, nor even totally foreign to her nature. Regardless of the role-playing, she was still a highly sexed lesbian who could get pleasure out of any lesbian act. And this was certainly one fine young body for her to work on. It was getting to her-the smell, the taste, the incomparable softness, so redolent of luscious-sweet femininity. Ah yes, it was turning her into an adoring subject, this divinely fleshed figure-almost eager for the vaguely visualized possibilities of the bizarre twist in their relationship. The novelty alone had a certain persuasive charm, making her an almost willing accomplice in her own subjection. A little more of this and she would probably be halfway into a swoon, well on the way toward a climax right here kneeling on the floor. Kneeling and sucking and swooning away ...
"Love? What kind of a word is that? What the hell do you know about love? The word is sssuck!"
"Oh. Yes. Let me suck you. Suck your cunt, your pretty cunt, let me just ... mmm ... "
"No! You're not hot enough yet."
"I'm hot, I'm hot. Please? Darling, please?"
"Don't give me that darling shit. It's not me we're talking about, it's my cunt. Isn't that what you're hot for?"
"Your cunt. I'm hot for your cunt."
"Hmm. Are you a good cuntlapper, Vera?"
"I-I'm a good cuntlapper."
"And you want to be my cuntlapper, huh?"
"Yours. All yours. Your cuntlapper."
"Cuntlapper!"
"Yesss. Cuntlapper. I'm your cuntlapper."
"That sounds nice. You look nice, too. Uh-huh. I think you look just fine down there on your knees. Where you belong. And if that's got a familiar ring, you cuntlapping bitch, maybe you can figure out why! Remember? It's only an imitation. And guess who I'm imitating. You do remember, don't you?"
"Oh. I-I remember."
"And you're still hot? Hot to suck my cunt?"
"Hot. Yes. Hotter than ever."
"Glad to hear it. I guess that makes you hot enough for just about anything." Alison shrugged out of the negligee, letting it float to the floor. "And you'd better be. Hot. Because you're not getting my cunt tonight, you hear? I don't always have to imitate you." She whirled around, a half-turn that ended in a new pose, purposely grotesque and yet graceful somehow despite the bold exaggeration, concave at the waist and lewdly convex just below-a great bulging billow of her rump. Then, over one shoulder, "See what I've got for you? No imitations. Kiss my ass!"
The sheer obscenity of it was monstrous. Momentarily stunned, Vera's mind refused to function. All she could think of was the ache in her knees, quite painful all of a sudden, throbbing in protest against this ridiculous position on the floor. Damn! She was just too old for this sort of thing. But then her eyes came to a focus and stared, transfixed, blurring the periphery and cutting off any extraneous demands on her senses. Leaving only one demand now, the spectacular vision in front of her face-the jutting insolence of those buttocks, the luridly graphic dark furrow, monstrous, and yet not without a certain fascinating beauty; how could anything be so self-contradictory, so repugnant and so attractive all in the same instant?
A renewed heat swirled inside her belly as she closed the distance and made contact. The taut skin seemed to soften at the touch of her lips, a kind of triumphant yielding. There was a twitch every now and then, a noticeable reaction that communicated its need with irresistible effect, coaxing and wheedling and at last inspiring her to reply with a lavishly bestowed flurry of kisses. Open-mouthed kisses now, wet suck-kisses that became increasingly loud and lecherous, rife with an obscenity of their own, almost as lurid as the flamboyant flesh itself. As though her kissing mouth had developed a private rapport with those lasciviously postured domes ...
"Nice and kissy, huh? You're hot enough, I'll sure say that for you. Kiss-kiss-kiss. Yeah, you always were a sexy bitch. With a dirty mind, of course, I just know you won't forget to get around to my dirty little asshole. The old nitty-gritty, huh? That'll be a sexy-dirty thrill for both of us."
No command this time, just a casually voiced suggestion. Only it sounded even worse that way. Like a purr with muted undertones of warning, vaguely ominous. A purring cat that might turn vicious at any moment. Vera shuddered apprehensively. But it was at the unspoken insistence of her own mouth that she continued the surface kisses. Her lips roamed the rounded smoothness, finding it ever sweeter and more exciting to the taste. Almost playfully now, she licked at the lines formed by the junction of thigh and buttock, crouching lower and tilting her face up to get at the dainty little creases. But the postponement couldn't go on indefinitely, of course, and the general direction of her movement was no longer so aimless. She was using her tongue more, too, letting it take the lead in the ever narrowing circular motion, an increasingly important role that finally became paramount as the circles diminished to the vanishing point. Now there were licks and dips and exploratory dives into the darkness as she began to rummage around in the trenchlike crevice. The deep valley ...
"Isn't it about time you stopped teasing? I mean, uh, you do want to get back into my good graces, don't you? Well, now you know where to look. You might get your face dirty, but go ahead anyway- and don't bother to knock."
Again there was a nasty undertone, but Vera's already sensitized ears were attuned to such a possibility, admitting the sound of the words but filtering out most of the meaning. Anyway, there wasn't much room for delaying tactics and she knew for a certainty that retreat would be a blunder. She was in too deep. This issue between them, she had to get to the bottom of it, now or never-and it was only too evident now that silent lingual supplication was her sole hope, the one practical method. And she was ready. A sexy bitch with a dirty mind. It sounded like a natural readiness. Come on, old girl, what the fuck are you waiting for?
She took the plunge, wedging her face between the soft but somewhat stubborn ass-cheeks. They closed in on her, a tight seal of flesh, giving her an uneasy moment that threatened to become downright panicky until she got smart and led with her cheekbones, working them in to widen the crack. Then, with a tiny whimper of impatience, she stuck her tongue out again and poked around with an almost facile familiarity that ended the search in a hurry. It was so centrally located; how could she miss?
Once there, she paused for a little lubrication, just licking and lapping and building up to a nice wet soul-kiss. And even then, surprisingly enough, she ran into a block, a tight closure, more like a dimple than an entry-door. But it was only a muscle-spasm, instinctive, and her meticulously oriented tongue-tip squirmed right in and slithered through the duly accommodating portal loop and into the chute beyond. No fuss at all. Neat, too- not nearly as sloppy as a real soul-kiss ...
"Hey, you lick ass pretty good."
"Nnngg?"
"Jam it right in, you sexy bitch! Fucky-sucky, you know?"
"Ummm ... "
"Come on, swap spit. Make it slurp."
"Hmm?"
"That's the idea. Slurp, slurp, slurp. Do it louder, oooh, that sounds dirty! You've got my asshole slurping right along with your fucking tongue. Hey, you really go for it, huh? Don't you just love my darling little asshole? Dirty old bitch ... "
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Greedy."
"I know. But you've been gone for hours. Only it seemed more like days. Think how much I missed you."
"You're a darling." Alison smiled happily, her body naked and already atingle from the caress of her precious little maid. "But it was worthwhile, wasn't it? The lawyer, I mean. After all, I did bring home good news."
"Uh-huh. It took so long, though. I got lonesome. Will you have to see him again soon?"
"No. Not without you. And that will probably be for your appearance in court. Just a formality, of course, but we do have to make it legal. Hmm. Sounds like we're getting married, doesn't it? Maybe we are, in a way. Judy? How does that strike you?"
"No, thanks. Wouldn't that be incest? I mean, uh, if this is going to be my foster home ... "
"You've got a point there."
"So do you. Two points. Very pretty. See?"
"Oooh! Wait, dear. Before it's too late. Are you sure you don't want me to bathe first? I must smell to high heaven."
"You smell wonderful. Besides, it's already too late. I'll just die if you get out of bed now. It's just awful when I don't have your beautiful ass to love."
"Poor darling. You really did miss me. I know how you must feel. All right, bath postponed on account of wet kisses. And on account of my ass is under attack. You want it?"
"Mmm ... more than anything ... "
"Good. But there's no rush. Tongue me all over first. Start in front. Uh-huh. That's nice. Such a soft tongue ... "
"All over? Alison? Like a tongue bath? Your beautiful tits, beautiful, beautiful. I love the way your nipples get-"
"Have fun. Chew on them. Would you like my cunt too? It's all yours. Hey, what now? Oh! I like that, go ahead, lick under my arms, tickle me with that sexy-dirty tongue of yours."
"Every tickle is loaded with love. I do love you. Every inch of you. It'll be the most loving tongue bath ever. Your tits and your belly and your feet and your legs-and your pretty cunt, of course- and then your ass, your absolutely divine ass-"
"Hush. You'll have me jumping out of my skin. No more talk now, let's have some action, hmm?"
It came hot and heavy and overflowing with love. Action. Not a very nice name for such glorious pleasure. Alison shut her eyes and let her tactile senses take over. And as always at such moments, she got the impression that the darling child was simply wallowing in the luxury of her body. As though it was the gift of a goddess conferred upon some lesser mortal. An exaggeration, perhaps, but there was no doubt that the youngster was overly conscious of the social gap between them. Still a slave-girl, even though it was no longer necessary. And still anxious to be of service in the more mundane matters, the chores of daily existence-even though that too was hardly necessary. The difference in rank kept cropping up, it was always there. And yet they loved one another freely and without worldly qualifications, an insurmountable love.
A very sexy love, too. Like the uniform, for instance, the one that Vera had been so enthused about. It was a French-soubrette sort of thing but even more so, with a skirt so short that it would have scandalized a Parisienne of negotiable virtue. It was certainly no costume for work-not housework, at any rate. Maybe the second lead in a porn film. But the dear child loved wearing it whenever and wherever possible, often with a feather duster as an accessory, turning herself into a working girl who actually worked. Incongruous, to say the least. It reeked of sex and that was exactly what its designer must have intended. Alison could hardly look at it without getting aroused. And sweet Judy herself couldn't pass a full-length mirror-by her own confession- without feeling a thrill.
But she wore it for work, nevertheless, even though its volatile possibilities were tremendous. Once in a while, in one of her extra horny moods, she would wear the outfit for its proper purpose- indecorous but appropriate to the occasion!- emphasizing the switch with a hip-swinging strut seldom failed to score. But then again, well, with or without the strut-and/or feather duster-the passionate little love-maid could stir Alison's passion. It was quite an eyeful, especially for someone who was already in love with the flesh-and-blood female inside the gift-wrap. So there were times when the difference in rank was a help rather than a hindrance, leaving the choice of mood to the mistress rather than the maid. Alison took great delight in running her hand up the dark nylons to forage around beneath the abbreviated skirt. And then, what with one thing leading to another, the costume would come off in a series of bits and pieces that led straight to bed. Or perhaps-depending on the urgency of the moment-straight to the nearest sofa or couch or sometimes even an easy chair. With the darling little sexpot always a willing participant. Or an eager one. Like now. Even though the uniform wasn't a catalyst this time. For that matter, when was a catalyst even necessary?
"Oooh!"
"Hmm? Something the-"
"No, don't stop. Give me your tongue again, darling. Wait, though, let me lift up so that ... uh-huh ... ahhh ... "
"So beautiful. Your ass is so beautiful."
"Burrow in a little deeper. Your face. Open me up. Oh, that's simply fabulous. Judy darling, your hot tongue is so beautiful. And to think it's mine forever. I've never been so thrilled."
"Nnngg?"
"Yes, you darling lover-girl, that kind of thrill. Soon. On the way. Coming. You too?"
A rhetorical question, practically. Alison wriggled her buttocks and bounced to a climax with her sexy-dirty asshole full of sexy-dirty tongue, concerned only with herself for the moment-but comfortably aware that her sexy-dirty little ass-fucker was having a sexy-dirty little climax of her own down there. Inexorably. It just never failed. And that was the beauty of it, this love of theirs, this thing that would last a sexy-dirty lifetime ...
For a while then, life faded to the nirvana of orgasmic fulfillment and exhaustion, leaving only the rasp and wheeze of breath to herald its self-renewal. The atmosphere was thick and moist and heavy with perfumed lesbian lust, evil as a Baudelaire flower, but in truth masking a love so pure and innocent that it could only come to fruition in the sterility of these small deaths. The self-renewal had already begun.
"Darling ... "
"Hmm?"
"Again? Don't you ever get tired?"
"Not with you. Never. But I'll stop if you say so. All you have to do is tell me. I'm a very obedient maid."
"Silly. But if I don't take a bath soon ... "
"You mean right now?"
"No. Later. Pretty soon, though."
"You'll tell me when. You know I like to help."
Smiling assent, Alison extricated herself somewhat gingerly and rose from the bed to amble off in search of a cigarette. She waggled her naked haunches, sensing the warm caress of devoted and adoring eyes back there. The bit of byplay made her immediately conscious of that one specific area, bringing a giggle to her lips as she recognized the sensation, all wet and gooey, the deliciously sexy-dirty residue of that dainty little mouth. She found the cigarettes and lit one almost automatically, her amused mind still occupied with its diverting secret.
"Oh? Miss Alison? I could have done that for you. The cigarette, I mean. You shouldn't have gotten up. All you had to do was tell me."
"Silly, silly, silly. I'm not exactly helpless, you know."
"It-it's not you, it's me. Your maid, your servant. It's the way I feel. It's what I am. It's what I want to be. We talked about it before, don't you remember? I'll love you and worship you and take care of you forever-and that's all I need to make me happy. Won't you let me?"
"Darling, couldn't you be happy if we were just friends? Well, not just friends. Lovers. Oh, you know what I'm trying so hard to say. Equals, that's close enough. You couldn't be happy if we were equals?"
"No. I don't think so. I'll try if you insist. But I don't feel like your equal kneeling on the floor. You know. When I kneel down and kiss your feet. I just feel humble. And it's wonderful, that feeling. Don't you like me to do it?"
"Umm, well, it's nice. I do like it."
"I'm glad. It's pretty important to me. Of course, if you ordered me-a real command, real bossy- then I'd like it even more. Oooh, look at me, I'm excited just thinking about it!"
"That's interesting. I just might try it sometime. Not now, though, it wouldn't be spontaneous. But since we're on the subject, Judy, let's open up a little and come to an understanding. What else would make you happy? Tell me. When that legal business is over and we're settled down, what would you like most?"
"Uh, lots of things. But you don't really want-"
"Tell me!" Alison put some thunder in her tone. "I asked you a question. How long must I wait for an answer?"
"Oooh ... "
"Well? I'm waiting."
"It-it's what you just did. That's what I need. The way you talked to me. Like a scolding. It's weird maybe, but when you do that, something happens inside-and I get hot all over."
"All right, so I'll scold you. What else? You might as well tell me the rest. Everything. Let's have it."
"Okay. I'll say it. I want to be your servant and call you Miss Alison and wear that sexy maid outfit every day-you'd have to buy me a few more, I guess, and with real high heels-and I want to love you and take care of you personally, your clothes, your body, wash out your stockings and panties and stuff, do your nails, fingernails and toenails, shave your legs, help you bathe, fix your hair, whatever, all the personal maid things, all kinds of things just to please you. All kinds of crazy things, even. You know-like on a cold night I'd sleep way down at the end of the bed to keep your feet warm. Anything. Whatever pops into your mind. Any idea at all, no matter how crazy- all you'd have to do is order me. And if I wasn't perfect, if I did it just the least bit wrong, if I'm bad or act fresh then you ought to punish me."
"Punish you? Like a scolding?"
"Uh-huh. A scolding or a spanking or maybe you might get mad and slap my face. Miss Alison, if you took a whip to my bare ass, I'd only kiss your feet and thank you for teaching me a lesson. And if I did something wrong when you weren't here to see me, I'd have to confess it afterward and-"
"That will do, my dear. I've heard enough. Go and run my tub now. And mind the temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. I'll expect it just right. Go now. Quickly!"
Eyes glistening, the girl scurried off. Alison lit a fresh cigarette and got comfortable, trying to quiet her nerves. She had heard enough, all right. Too much, too much. But it was out in the open now and she had to face it. Could she do those wild things to her little darling? Little darling masochist ...
If it makes her happy?
Alison wondered what she was getting into. Falling in love sure created problems. Oh yes, she would probably do it, whatever had to be done. But mightn't that awaken more of those deviated desires within herself?
Mmm, I'm still wet down there. Not much, though. Maybe later, after the bath, Fillet her do it to me again. Tell her. Command her. And then I'll think about it and decide. I do my best thinking like that. With her tongue in my ass. All slimy and sexy-dirty, right up my royal asshole ...
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sad times. Even the pictures on the walls mocked her. Vera glanced around at them, mementos of a more glamorous era in her life. The thought was a bit phony, but she liked to think of the shots as her public image. Her used-to-be public image. But that was a long time ago, so far back that an entire new public had sprouted since then. And now, on this gloomy night, she might as well be an image, only an image, and not a real woman with a real woman's wants. Because she was alone. All alone and lonesome, with no one to satisfy those wants.
Oh shit, she was thinking like a dumb broad and getting dumber by the hour. Worried about a lack of sex, when the lack of money was her big problem. Not that she was broke, of course, the checks still came in regularly. But they were still too small and this house too big-with all her best-laid plans shot to hell. Actually, she must have done a pretty good job, looking at it in retrospect, a good job for everybody but herself. The corruption of Alison had sure been successful, but it was little Judy who was now reaping the benefit. And by the same token, Alison was enjoying life with the now-corrupt Judy. What a switch! And guess who was left out in the cold.
Grinning wryly, Vera wondered if that loving couple would ever realize how grateful they ought to be to her for having brought them together. They seemed to be made for each other, but would they ever remember just who it was that made them? Oh well, why brood about it? The thing to do was to start from scratch. Find another sucker and create a new plan and try to make it work before inflation turned her remaining stash of cash to shit. Which might be any day now, the way things were going. Any minute. Something had to break for her-and soon. Although it would be smart to lose a few pounds before dropping her hook in the big ocean. Worrying made her eat and eating made her fat, and she wasn't exactly the jolly fatso type.
Maybe it wasn't quite so bad, though. Weight on a scale didn't mean much, it was the hips and belly that really counted. Only she couldn't make that judgment herself. Solange could tell. But then again, dear old Solange would probably flatter her as usual and knock a few pounds off for old times' sake. Good for the ego, that was for sure. And wouldn't an ego lift be a blessing in all this sadness? Besides, she ought to see the old babe just to cheer her up and maybe con her into staying on a while longer. Two women rattling around in one big house; why should either of them be lonely?
Vera primped a little and then went to pay her a call. She found the big muscular servant in bed but awake, reading a book. They greeted each other somewhat mournfully, both for pretty much the same reason.
Then, posing, in need of that ego boost, "I'm sure I must have put on a few pounds lately. What do you think?"
"Well ... "
That did it. Vera's heart sank. Hesitancy from her loyal maid was intolerable and she changed the subject in a hurry. The book seemed like a safe bet for conversation; people could kill time just talking about books.
Not this one, though. "Porn? You're reading a hot one? I had no idea, Solange. I didn't even know you were interested in that sort of thing. You're a doer, not a reader. Just like me."
"Well, sure, but when there's nobody around to do ... " Solange shrugged. "Ever since we lost the kid-well, you know how it is, Miz Vera. Nobody to bed down with. Might as well read. As a matter of fact, I was lying here and thinking about jerking myself off when you came in."
"You're putting me on. Uh, the book ... "
"Huh? Hey, you look kind of funny. Did I shock you? Just saying that? About jerking off?"
"N-no. I'm not shocked, just a little surprised. Besides, only men jerk off. Women tickle themselves."
"Yeah. I know. Fingerfuck. Hey, you still look kind of upset to me. Miz Vera? Don't tell me. Are you horny? Is that what makes you look-"
"Horny. Isn't that silly? But as long as I'm here and we're together ... well ... "
"Hmm."
"Solange? Want to?"
"I-I feel kind of lazy tonight, ma'am. Too lazy to start thrashing around in bed, you know?"
"Oh."
"But, uh, if you want to ... "
"If I want to?"
"Uh-huh. You know. You've got more energy than me. And besides, I know damn well that you'd like to keep me around a while-and this could be the way to do it." Solange flipped her light blanket aside. Her skin gleamed, the color of cream-tinged coffee. With a big bush of black as the focal point. Then, quite casually, a sudden switch. "Yeah, you really are getting kind of heavy around the hips, Miz Vera. You ought to let me put you on a diet."
"Hmm? Diet? What kind of diet?"
"Can't you see? You're looking right at it."
Vera was silent. Her pulses throbbed. The walls of the room were closing in on her. She couldn't talk. She couldn't move. And then the dark legs shifted and the big black bush flashed a bit of red, and she knew she was lost right then and there, stumbling and falling, lost in a desperate world of darkness. And it didn't even surprise her when, after a few minutes, the great body under her lips rolled over and she heard Solange giggling into the pillow, highly amused with the idea-as she said a moment afterward- the idea of having the place all to themselves so that she could get her cunt sucked and her ass licked every night and wouldn't really have to jerk off after all ...
