My body was beautiful but hardly precious or untouchable, considering how many men had used it. After selling my flesh so often, couldn't I offer it to a friend for the sake of friendship?
I may have been rationalizing, true, but by now the idea of a small gay affair between two women seemed pretty much a foregone conclusion. Just being there with Zoe and feeling so relaxed was enough to make me want to come back again.
I had found a friend and didn't dare risk losing her, not for such a minor thing as a little offbeat sex. And besides, hadn't I already made a decision about losing my innocence?
Chapter 1
The music didn't strike me as very sexy, just loud and brassy and a little off-key. Even a tiny bit ragged in rhythm. Or maybe that was only the noise of my fingers drumming nervously on the side of my tall tequila drink, I watched them tapping against the glass, my meticulously cared-for fingernails, long and tapered and glossy pink, too perfect to be other than nervous in the vaguely forbidding atmosphere of this dingy cabaret. The crowd looked pretty sinister even for a Tijuana strip-joint. Although that too could have been the work of my overwrought nerves, just a general feeling I had about this trip south of the border. Even if I really couldn't think of a darn thing to be nervous about.
Anyway, the bombastic little combo was simmering down and so was the audience, myself included. And after a long-winded spiel from the announcer-bilingual naturally, twice as dreary!-a blare of trumpet and a barrage of drum brought the first performer out on the stage. A fat girl, fat enough to warrant the music at its loudest. Or was I just being catty? No, I could see Jerome frowning, too, hardly the expression for a middle-aged American male at a sex show. Okay, so the opening act was going to be a stinker.
She wasn't all that bad, actually, just an overripe Mexican peasant girl trying to make a living the hard way. Her bikini-type costume was a bespangled green, pretty enough in itself but not doing much for her swarthy skin coloration. Especially where the meat appeared to gather momentum and bulge up over her bra-top, outshining the silver spangles in a double demand for recognition. Below that, low around her hips, the green panty-bottom sprouted a veil of heavy fringe that hung almost to the floor. The stuff was thick and ropelike but not very manageable; the slightest shift set it stirring and swirling to reveal a plump thigh and fleshy length of leg right down to the silver stilt-heels of her matching green pumps.
The spattering of applause seemed to please her. Smiling in gratitude, she swayed languorously and turned her head to make a panoramic survey of the place. Her hair, long and black and shiny, tumbled loose over her shoulders and down her back. She ran her fingers through it like a comb, still swaying from side to side, doing a sensual little dance without lifting her feet ...
Not bad but not exactly spectacular either, and I took a sip of my drink with growing impatience. The woman was just too damn fat for this sort of thing. Still, her movements did show a certain skill, a knack for using her inner passion to blur the effect of the excess poundage. And she was really moving now, touring the front edge of the stage as though her whole body had to make that same panoramic sweep. The stage itself was unusual, I realized, elevated only a few inches but extending the curve of its apron right out into the clustered tables. Which obviously didn't leave much room between the eager performer and her equally eager audience.
Oh yes, the crowd was getting eager now. The stripper had come to a halt with her legs spread wide and was gliding her palms lewdly up the insides of her thighs. I wondered what it would feel like to do something that sexy with that many people sitting up so close and staring. It gave me quite a charge and for a moment I was right up there alongside her, all creamy and blond and beautiful, swinging my hair and stroking my legs, the sexiest bitch in the house! I shivered and blushed at the thought, painfully conscious of my shame but enjoying it nonetheless; oh shit, wasn't the shame itself part of that delicious thrill?
The fat babe had one hand on her bra now, fooling around with the catch between the cups. Still picking at it, she turned her back and jutted her buttocks as if to divert attention from what was happening out of sight, practically sticking that colossal ass of hers into the uptilted faces at the nearby tables. It was still covered, of course, both domes putting a severe strain on the bikini bottom, but by this time the green fabric had creased at the crotch and worked its way deep into the in-between furrow, leaving very little to the imagination. Just enough to make the picture a masterpiece of obscenity. Somehow even the dangle of fringe added to the total erotic appeal, a sensuous appeal that was nothing short of remarkable in view of just how much pudgy fat that lard-assed Mexican peasant girl had to camouflage.
But it was a moving picture, too, although I almost didn't notice the gradual disappearance of the bra. All of a sudden she swung back around again and there they were, those two big naked breasts, adorned only by two big rouged nipples. Then she had a kind of private party with them, flashing a half-smile for the round of applause but letting it fade to a dreamy look as her self-caress grew more intimate. They must have felt nice under her busy fingers, huge and soft and lovely, a fine pair of tits despite their overblown proportions, huge and soft and just lovely to touch. And to play with, no doubt, because now her hands were pushing and rubbing one against the other in a sportive little game. Oh, she seemed to be having such a grand time all by herself! With only a sly wink every so often to let the audience in on it: having a wonderful time, aren't you glad you're here?
I kept wishing Jerome would shut the hell up. He was saying something about how the shoddier Tijuana nightspots-like this cramped hole-in-the-wall we were in-often put on hotter shows than the more expensive tourist traps. As though his excuse for bringing me here was more important than the performance itself. Bragging, really, bragging about how clever he had been to choose this place-but the dear old boy needed an ego lift, so I didn't have the heart to gripe. Although I did wish he would cut the chatter and just let me concentrate on this miracle we were seeing, the miracle of so much fat being churned into so much sex.
The private tit-party was over, apparently, and she had gone on to bigger and better things. Well, bigger anyway, considering the size of her buttocks. Too big, as it turned out, too big to maneuver the crotch-soaked strip of green off without making a mess of it. The silver spangles didn't help, naturally, and neither did the long fringe as the ends hit the floor limply and became a most unsightly jumble. She had to work at it, doing more stripping than teasing, and her awkwardness became almost embarrassing. By the time she finished with the stubborn little garment and its trail of tangled cord, all the enchantment had fled and we were left only with the fat peasant girl trying to make a living. The hard way! Luckily she must have been aware of it herself and did only a minimum of final prancing and posturing in her G-string before edging into the hidden safety of the wings. Even so, the last impression was bad enough to erase most of the good earlier one and she ended up looking pretty ludicrous. Like a shaky heap of coffee-colored gelatin, poor .thing, the second helping of a dessert that no one had wanted in the first place.
Jerome snorted. "Pretty heavy for a stripper."
"Downright fat. But sexy though-or at least she was until that pathetic ending."
"The next one ought to be better. Meanwhile; uh, time to get another drink ... " He was already flagging the waiter. "Dana? Same thing for you?"
"The same, dear. Tall and icy. Tequila is okay, but I have no intention of licking salt or biting a lemon. Even if it does label me a tourist."
"Don't worry, we're all tourists. Just look around, the place is full of them. Hmm, quite a crowd. I guess other folks know about these out-of-the-way dives."
Looking around eased my mind immeasurably. Especially since I didn't spot a familiar face-or the familiar face, rather, the one I expected and hoped to see here in Tijuana. Fine! No hurry for that, no hurry at all, we were going to be here a week at least. And no need to feel panicky about it, either. Hadn't I already geared myself for the coming encounter? For that matter, there was no reason to feel panicky about anything these days, and it took only a second glance to convince me that the cabaret was about as "sinister" as-well, maybe it wasn't exactly Disneyland, but my eyes were open now and I could recognize a kind of tourist-type innocence in these nice folks sitting around and waiting for the next act. Waiting for another dark-eyed peasant wench to come out and strut and sway and bare her (hopefully!) less fat and more beautiful body. An adult Disneyland, perhaps, and the only thing sinister here was the dim lighting and the grimy atmosphere, all probably home-grown just to titillate the Yankee appetite and rake in the Yankee dollar. What else could one expect of a third-rate Mexican strip-palace that called itself the Blue Grotto?
I found it easier to look around now, too; the lights were a shade brighter and nobody seemed quite so furtive after sharing the dubious thrills of that first act. Other women were well-manicured also, I noticed, and some had evidently dressed up for the occasion, all very sexy in their slinky gowns and heavy makeup and salon-styled hair. My own simple frock was almost dowdy by comparison, although it did bring out the best in me, my hazel eyes and creamy complexion and natural golden hair-and my figure, of course, a figure I'd match against any in the house, on or off the stage. I didn't need fancy clothes and such to prove myself a beautiful girl. Nothing phony! Makeup, for instance-other than a touch of lipstick and eye-shadow, I let my pretty face speak for itself. Even my nails were an unassuming pink instead of a sophisticated scarlet. In spite of my former professional status-or because of it, perhaps?-I preferred the coyly virginal effect rather than the elegantly whorish. The fluffy type, that was me. And I had heard no complaints as yet, certainly not from Jerome, the old darling; oh, how that sweet old man loved his little Dana-baby! The only time he ever complained was when I didn't spend enough of his money.
A brassy fanfare sounded and the second stripper came on. A slim one, too-as though in answer to everybody's prayers-young and cute and tiny and amazingly energetic, a veritable little hoyden of a girl. With red hair, imagine! Under the flashing strobe like floodlight, I couldn't tell if she was a dyed Mexican or a misplaced Irish colleen. Her costume was black but pretty much immaterial; in that wildly volatile manner of hers, she wasted no time shedding a few pertinent items of apparel and getting right down co the bare essentials.
Her breasts were simply adorable, so pert and precocious after those big balloons awhile ago. Even my own body soon began to respond to their enticement and I had to squirm around in my seat to soothe the itch. All the more so a moment later when she whirled and gave us a prolonged rear view, grinding her bare bottom like a naughty coquette; such a delectable little fanny! Oh, it was quite a performance she put on, more real than theatrical. Toward the end she seemed to go into a fit of ecstasy, shivering and shaking in a way that just couldn't have been faked, reaching the climax of her act in a series of shamelessly abandoned pelvic convulsions that must have brought her to the verge of orgasm. Or beyond? I couldn't tell for sure. It was pretty wicked, though, dragging the entire audience right along with her, right into that same stew of excitement. When she finally made it to the wings, there was a collective sigh of relief before the crowd regained poise enough to function physically and start applauding. And then, of course, the clamor rocked the joint to its foundations.
"Not bad, huh? Dana?"
"Not bad at all."
"Lots better than the fat one."
"Uh-huh. At least she didn't get tangled up in her pants. I thought she looked awfully young, though. Just a kid, really, wouldn't you say? Bouncing around like a high school cheerleader ... "
"Some kid. In a place like this?" Jerome's grin became a bawdy leer. "Honey, don't go moral on me. They like 'em young hers, the younger the better-it's good business. See all the wolves with their tongues hanging out?"
"Bastards! And stop leering at me. Oh, you're all alike, you men, always on the make. I pity the poor child."
"Don't waste your sympathy, the wolves won't get near her, I'll bet. Not if she runs true to form. When the show is over, she'll just cuddle up with one of the other girls and ... well ... "
"What? Oh. You-you mean they're lesbians?"
"It's a safe guess. Most strippers are, you know. It's almost a tradition; they just leave the boys drooling and go off by themselves for their own kind of fun. Saves wear and tear that way. So don't worry about the kid, I'm sure she's in good hands. Hmm. I wonder whose. Now that would be a show to see, wouldn't it?" He laughed aloud. "Maybe they're making it in the dressing room right now, the little redhead and that big fat dumb broad ... "
Chapter 2
I was glad when the band struck up again, loud enough to drown outpour conversation. Loud enough to allow the subject to be dropped and forgotten, the one subject least likely to preserve peace in the family-although the old darling couldn't have known that at the time. And never would, hopefully! Lesbians and the like belonged behind a shroud of secrecy; why should it even come up between us?
My fault, no doubt, even though I had only sympathized with the cute young stripper for Jerome's sake. It was good for him-a sop to his waning virility-good for his ego to be included among the wolves on the make. But he had picked it up from there, of course, launching into the taboo topic even as I expressed a proper degree of shock and scorn. Along with a little chagrin! Oh shit, how was I to know that he considered himself an expert on the mating habits of the bare-breasted Tijuana titmouse?
Anyway, no harm done. Except that the next performer was bound to be wearing that invisible "lesbian" label now, and I couldn't help but feel a certain loss of innocence along with my sudden sense of kinship. Rightly or wrongly, I would be seeing her as a lesbian rather than a dancer, a lesbian using her body to excite men she didn't even like. It seemed a bit shoddy somehow, teasing the boys without giving them their money's worth. Unless maybe they knew all about it and just didn't mind being teased. Hmm. Hope springs eternal? Wasn't that the very essence of the striptease, to dream the impossible dream? Yes indeed, hope springs eternal; no wonder so many successful strippers were gay! Look but don't touch, a kind of soft sadism, just perfect for the unwitting male masochist ...
That was when the third girl ambled onstage, tall and blond and beautiful and making mincemeat of my theory. Maybe the wolves were still getting their fair share of graciously dispensed frustration, but I could have sworn this one was teasing me! As if she had read my invisible label, somehow-was it so indelible?-and was already stating her challenge in no uncertain terms. Hey, look at us! How about it, tourist lady, blond on blond tonight? A bed full of nice blond cunt? Come on, baby, put up or shut up. And never mind the blank stare, it's no good anymore. Let's go, blondie, shit or get off the pot!
I did neither, straining mightily to hold everything in check like a well-behaved tourist lady should, and was rewarded by a richly deserved sense of triumph that turned cloying and faintly oppressive as she shrugged and swung her attention elsewhere. Just watching her seemed compensation enough, though, and I was soon lost in the erotic sorcery of her spell. Only I couldn't go up there alongside her this time, not like with the fat-assed Mexican peasant, oh no, I just didn't dare .
She was still fully dressed, a vision in floor-length white satin shot with shimmering gold, a d�collet� gown that made her look more like a singer than a stripper. Quite sedate except for the scandalous display of cleavage. Indeed, her every breath was clearly delineated by the rise and fall of her breasts, the upper slopes naked almost to the nipples. But a change was just about due, evidently, and I could see her body sucking in and storing up vitality from the surrounding tables, moving in a kind of slow abandonment that appeared to grow increasingly sexy. As if the very next intake of outside energy might bring the one potent spark of pollen or semen or what-have-you needed to jolt new and crackling life through the swollen anticipation jelling inside her bosom and belly. An extrasensory conception, as it were. There was an indolent elegance in her flowing form that seemed to be demanding the opportunity to exhibit itself without the constraining shackles of society.
The hot spark landed and the jell came alive. I spilled a little of my drink and then set it down hastily, my transfixed eyes thirstier than my parched lips. Only a fool would miss this part of the show. And yet, unaccountably, I became more and more conscious of my own reactions and responses. There was the sloshed drink, for instance, the leftover dribble of moisture on my chin-I was dying to wipe it off but couldn't go pawing around blindly for a napkin for fear of a far worse spillage. Especially with the blond dancer teetering on one precarious golden heel to lift the other net-sheathed leg through a suddenly unzipped zipper in the gown. So I did the next best thing, I used my tongue. A wise course, as it turned out, the first sight of that breathtakingly beautiful leg was worth the effort and then some. Although I must have looked pretty weird ogling a woman's body with my tongue stuck out like that. In case anyone was stupid enough to be looking in my direction. Oh shit, anybody that dumb wouldn't know a lesbian cuntlapper if they saw one!
Another thing began to irritate me. For no earthly reason, I found myself resenting the men in the place, all of them, every lusting son of a bitch. How could any hairy-legged male understand or appreciate the aesthetic smoothness of those shapely feminine limbs? Or the beauty of those bewitching breasts, now being laid bare by a flurry of tenderly solicitous fingertips? Such purity was too precious to reveal to anybody, much less a roomful of lecherous brutes with dirt under their fingernails. Or if the divine creature couldn't perform in solitude, well, why not an audience of women only? Attractive women, though, with a sprinkling of sweet young girls to help balance out the glut of sleek matrons. And why not make nudity the rule rather than the exception? Nude women all around. Women of grace and delicacy, of smooth skin and softly lyrical curves to enhance the flawless masterpiece in the center as the many leaves of a flower enhance its single blossom ...
No such luck. But I had enough to satisfy me for the moment. Even the combo sounded just fine now, the rhythm honed to a precise edge that matched the unabashedly naked undulations of breast and belly and hip. My thighs felt damp and sticky, and I wasn't even aware of how long ago they had started this business of rubbing and chafing against each other, prickling like a pair of hot and horny porcupines. It didn't matter. Help was on the way. As though he had read my mind-or put a lie detector on my libido, heaven forbid!-dear old Jerome was reaching for me under the table with those nice soft hands of his.
Hmm. Almost soft enough to be feminine, actually, making me all the more conscious of the velvety texture of my own skin. Ah yes, tempting! Wouldn't that bouncy little redhead just love to slide her fingers over me like this? Or even the big fat peasant, the one whose skill almost made up for her lack of beauty; oh shit, that one would know how! Uh-huh. She did, she sure did know how, and as long as I had something more beautiful to gaze at, why not let her go on with that sneaky lesbian caress?
A gentle lassitude came upon me, a limpness I could feel but couldn't resist. Nor did I care to after a while. Something wild was going to happen, something up there on the stage and down here underneath the table. The same thing, maybe, and wouldn't it be grand to tumble into the dark abyss together? Blond on blond, lighting up the darkness, a bed full of nice blond cunt, come on, striptease lade, shit or get off the pot!
I couldn't catch her eye, though, and that was the worst kind of teasing, a mixture of pain and humiliation. So it ended on a disappointing note for me-no shimmering gold beauty, no red-haired hoyden, no pudgy-fingered brunette-only poor old Jerome foraging around down there and doing it pretty much for himself. Awkwardly, too, no better than those lousy musicians fingering their lousy instruments. Clumsy! Like that fat peasant tripping over her own fringe ...
"Another drink, Dana?"
"You still want to stay? I figured the show was over."
"We haven't seen the star yet. Pilar. She's supposed to be the headliner. But if you'd rather not-"
"It's okay. I'll have that drink now, too. With both hands on the table, if you don't mind. Or they're liable to cancel the star and just move us onstage instead. Which wouldn't be such a bad idea, you know? If your diddling finger holds out, I can do bumps and grinds all night long. I'll even let you use your tongue and give your finger a rest."
"Hush."
"Don't hush me or I'll put you under the table. Hey, how about that drink you promised me? Looks like show time already."
Appearances were deceiving, though, and we had to suffer through another bilingual announcement and a long stretch of fussing with the lights before the one and only Pilar came on. And even then she took awhile longer, coming on piece by piece, a little bit at a time. An arm first, fingers pointed and bunched, moving slowly into view from behind the curtain; in the murky blue light it looked like a wriggling snake. Then a shoulder, turning the snake into something that gave evidence of eventually becoming a full-bosomed female body, glowing with an eerie phosphorescence that seemed almost spectral. Incongruously so, I thought, especially since the body itself proved to be big and solid and voluptuous as more and more of it came out from in back of the curtain.
Big and solid and voluptuous--and naked? No. Not quite. But she might just as well have been, considering the size and texture of her garments. The tiniest of G-strings. A gauzy bra that was transparent except for the slight thickening of fabric over each nipple. And the inevitable high heels, of course, but even these were fashioned like dainty sandals, with only a narrow thong-type arrangement anchoring them to her bare feet.
The audience loved her. She drew a vehement round of applause just standing there lazily and scanning the tables, an all-knowing smile on her ripely sensuous mouth. Once again I succumbed to the urge to squirm around in my seat, assailed by a hot spasm of agitation as her all-encompassing glance singled me out for an extra intense moment or two. But then I wondered if that wasn't just a bit of tricky stage technique, the kind of thing that implants the same uniquely personalized notion in each and every onlooker. Although my mind simply boggled at the idea of everyone else feeling exactly the same as I did; oh shit, they couldn't all be squirming!
Pilar had started her promenade, gliding out upon the elongated apron of the stage. It was more of a strut, actually, a stripper's walk to show off her figure. A damn good figure, too, generously stacked and just about perfect in proportion. Her calves were a trifle heavy but still quite firm-dancer's muscles, no doubt-and those ultra-high heels threw her thighs and pelvis into a seductively prominent curve.
My eyes had grown accustomed to the light by now, no longer bothered by that strange luminescent effect. It was fascinating, somehow, adding an impossibly beautiful luster to her thick crop of billowing blue-black hair. And when the wispy little mini-bra came off, her already aroused nipples gleamed vividly and brought an audible gasp from the crowd.
The music faded, leaving only a soft drumbeat to carry on. Her fingers wandered, playing restless melodies on her own flesh. And for the first time, she seemed to go into a trance that excluded the breathless audience. A highly volatile trance, though-as if the caresses of her hands had at last penetrated her skin and found some deeply buried turn-on switch. Something was taking place inside her, something beyond her control. Her hips began to gyrate wildly, her torso twisting this way and that, apparently in the throes of some exquisite torture. Her face contorted, the gluttonous ripe lips tightening and drawing back to bare her shiny teeth.
It was scary almost, but terribly exciting too as some of that sensation imparted itself to me. I felt a hand clutching way down deep, much deeper .than Jerome could possibly go, an artful hand that contracted and expanded maddeningly. And again I realized that everyone else must have been feeling it, too. I got the impression of bodies twitching all around me, twitching to the touch of hot fingers encroaching and squeezing intimately, the lascivious fury of the performance brushing against a thousand exposed nerves to create an atmosphere of hushed delirium ...
The band slammed back in with a violent shock of sound, driving the dancer to an even higher level of activity. Her movements grew more frenzied and her body jerked crazily, leaning backward in arched abandon. There was beauty in it. But now it had become the beauty of raw emotion, an animal thing that went beyond the boundaries of civilization. She wasn't a lesbian anymore, she wasn't even human, she was just a female beast of the jungle copulating with the male of her species.
I hated that. But the invisible hand clutching my vitals never let up for an instant; it was unbearably real now as the inexorable contraction and expansion kept pace with the ever-increasing tempo of the onstage madness. Until my inflamed secret flesh seemed to be shipping itself into an irrepressible rage, about to spark and sizzle and explode right through the prison of my skin. Monstrous, absolutely monstrous, and I couldn't do a damn thing to slow it down!
Then, abruptly, Pilar came out of her distant trance and made contact with the audience again. It happened without warning, so swiftly that even the musicians missed their cue. All of a sudden she was a civilized woman once more, an artiste, a striptease dancer flirting gaily with the people who were paying good money for the privilege of seeing her perform. Her gait turned mincing and then swaggering, lewdly suggestive one moment and impudently disdainful the next-the act of an experienced stripper.
She took her flirtation pretty seriously, too, getting intimately involved with the men at the nearby tables after a while. One of them she grabbed and hauled in close to her body, bending down to mash her bosom against his laughing face. The laughter stopped as he put up a struggle, but her strong arms and smothering breasts held him captive until at last he quit fighting and moaned in token of total surrender, bowing to her will with a slight but visibly tremulous motion of his cheeks and chin. Above his half-hidden head she smirked and rolled her eyes shamelessly to let the amused audience know how much she was enjoying the unseen but obvious fruits of her victory.
All of that calmed me down, naturally, and I too became nothing more than a giggling spectator as she went from man to man using those big breasts of hers. Those big beautiful tits, first as a lure and then as a weapon. It was something to giggle at, too, except for the one time when she chose her foolish victim from the very next table, near enough so that I could sniff her perfume and see the tiny iridescent beads of perspiration on her skin. The poor dolt actually whimpered as her powerful hands pried his jaws apart and forced his buried mouth open. And then I shuddered and almost died of embarrassment as that big naked lesbian bitch winked right at me and pursed her thick lips in an obscene kissing gesture! Worse yet, she followed it with a flash of luridly glistening tongue that made me squirm again, doubly humiliated because of the undeniable surge of heat in my loins ...
Chapter 3
Outside our hotel there was still plenty of activity in the street, the mixed shouts and strains of music floating up to catch my ear and interfere with my concentration. Not that I really needed to concentrate at that point; Jerome was doing fine down there all by himself. Down there between my legs. Just the same, though, this was no time to be thinking of other things.
His cheek brushed the skin of my thigh. I quivered involuntarily and my limbs went lax, twitching now and then in an irregular rhythm that seemed to stimulate him by its very inconstancy. Somehow I got the feeling that he was doing his best to follow that fitful, capricious cadence-and the more difficult the task, the better he liked it. I shifted my body in a lazy fashion, deliberately desultory .throughout the motion, making his chore even more complicated. It spurred him to greater effort, and he seemed almost abject in his anxiety to please me, the old darling, burrowing into my crotch as though every nook and cranny harbored some priceless pearl.
I wondered if the strip-show had affected him as much as it did me. Probably not. This was affecting him more, this sudden urge of mine, a demand he could never resist. Tired and sleepy as he might-have been, the dear boy had succumbed readily and without protest, offering his services willingly. Even hopefully! As if he feared a possible rejection after my clearly stated desire had whetted his appetite. Although he needn't have worried on that score, not tonight certainly. Rejection? Fat chance! If ever my cunt needed a good hot suck ...
Anyway, he was doing just fine at the moment, satisfying himself with whatever appetizing delicacy I cared to dole out to him; oh yes, the guy was in love with all of me. His little Dana-baby was one sweet dish. So there was no great necessity for concentration on my part-not at this stage of the game-and I could afford to relax and simply flow with the tide. Or even rush with the torrent, if and when that minor miracle occurred.
Our hotel room was dark, but the drawn blinds were only small protection against the glare from outside. It penetrated the darkness in an ever-changing pattern, a multicolored blossom of light generated by a streetful of animated neon signs. Quite pretty, in a way, but garishly symbolic of the wicked city, a psychedelic sight to complement all that sexy noise out there. None of it came from the place we had just left, though-the Blue Grotto lay some distance beyond this centrally located area. But that was where my mind kept drifting, naturally, right back to the little hole-in-the-wall that had put me in this sultry mood.
The next performance had probably gone on by now, the last of the night, most likely, just the thing to leave all those poor bedazzled males in torment. Oh well, the desperate ones could always find a whorehouse. In this town, it was merely a matter of knowing which door to knock on; any bellhop or cabdriver would be glad to help. But could a whore ease that kind of frustration, a common whore after those distinctly uncommon strippers? It seemed pretty doubtful. Unless the man had imagination, of course, an ability to shut his eyes and fancy himself in more fortunate circumstances. And even that would be a sad substitute-like water after wine!-only how else could a mere male achieve intimacy with a seductive but oh-so-scornful lesbian?
If they were lesbians. But that was no longer in question, at least not to me; after all, hadn't I been the target of their attentions? Especially the dark one at the end, the star of the show, the arrogant bitch who had winked so brazenly while smothering that whimpering idiot half to death with her big soft tits. Pilar. Was she just as bossy backstage? Not so flagrantly, perhaps, but I'd have been willing to bet that the other girls respected her rank and bowed down accordingly. The youngster, for instance, the cute little redhead with all that bubbling enthusiasm-wouldn't she be prime material for an experienced lesbian to befriend and win over and then train as some sort of sex-slave? Pilar would use a kid like that for her own perverted pleasures. And get plenty of help indoctrinating her, no doubt, help from those two others.
The clumsy fat one was probably a slave already, obeying the star's orders even if only to keep her job. And. the tall blonde looked like the kind of woman who lived for sin and sensuality, a perfect partner-in-crime for the depraved boss. Maybe they were lovers from way back, the golden girl and the blue-black bitch; oh shit, wouldn't that be a sight to see? Too bad they couldn't put on that type of show, the two of them together, a pair of beautiful bawdy lesbians rolling around naked ...
I sighed softly. Jerome heard me and went on sucking with renewed fervor, apparently accepting it as a compliment to his own prowess. And rightly so, of course, considering my state of clitoral excitation, surely a tribute to the talent and technique of my dear old adoring and devoted cuntlapper. I sighed again, strictly for his benefit this time, sighing long and loud in response to the hot rasp of his tongue, happily aware of my approaching orgasm. True, I might have been even happier if his cheeks felt less scratchy to my clamped thighs. If his hands were smoother and daintier. The touch of his lips more delicate. If the odor in my flaring nostrils had a tinge of perfumed femininity-the scent of woman-ah yes, the lesbian thing, the smell of woman immersed in woman; and wasn't it odd that I should be feeling so little guilt?
Guilty or not, though, I had a definite block against yielding completely, even in these private fantasies of mine. I refused to bow down like the rest and let that big dark arrogant Pilar bitch boss me around. And when Jerome slipped into a haze again, it was to the other one that I turned for solace-the tall creature in the white gown. Only I saw her naked now, naked and amorous, beckoning me into her embrace. Blond on blond tonight! Such a classically sculptured face, so lovely even in the midst of its obscene invitation. Jut-nippled breasts, utterly enchanting. Slender waist curving in and out to deliciously dilating hips. And that flawless length of leg, shapely to the last seductive contour. A wealth of nudity shod in gold, appropriately enough, all perched upon the sexiest of shimmering golden high heels-a sex-image to drive this poor bewitched tourist lady to distraction!
No wonder the torrent stuck in a rush; who could drift with the tide now? Too soon, too soon-the climax already ?-dammit, I hadn't even got close to her cunt yet! And besides, why was that bitch still there, the dark bitch with the luminous skin-sheen? Couldn't she keep her bossy nose out of my orgasm? What a time to be throwing kisses! And look at her, just look at the insolent bitch, smiling and winking and licking her lewdly voluptuous lips with that lesbian tongue of hers.
For the sake of peace and harmony, I remained prudently rational enough to make all the right sounds and motions, giving Jerome his due. Pleased with himself, the old darling took only a few minutes to wash up and fall asleep, obviously tickled pink to be starting our Mexican holiday on such a propitious note. Which left me exhausted but still somewhat unsettled, too jittery to drop off in the aftermath of that nerve-wracking climax. So I spent the next quarter-hour tossing restlessly and trying to calm myself down.
All in vain, though. The bedsheets felt wrinkled, the mattress developed lumps, the pillow turned stiff under my head no matter how many times I fluffed it up. Only it wasn't the sheets or the mattress or the pillow that kept me awake, nor was it even that silly orgasm with its candid camera snapshot of the stripper's teasing tongue; no, there was another reason why I couldn't sleep. A reason named Zoe! My own personal reason for this Tijuana jaunt. Zoe. Was I really prepared to face her? Prepared to brave the lioness in her den? I had figured on it, of course, but now there were certain doubts beginning to undermine my resolute stand. All because of that strip-show tonight-those naked lesbians!-wasn't it weird the way I had reacted td the sexy spectacle? The way I was still reacting, really, worried all over again about my imminent and highly imperative clash with the woman whose shadow had darkened my past.
My past; oh shit, why open that can of worms? I didn't even want to think about it. But at this point I pretty much had to; anyway, maybe it would do me good to get the whole mixed-up mess straightened out in my mind. And as long as sleep seemed so impossible ...
About my past, funny thing-or pathetic, perhaps?-it dated back only to the time when I first met Zoe. Even though my life hadn't exactly been angelic previous to that! As a matter of fact, I was a professional prostitute then, a whore, to put it bluntly, and a damn fine one-with no childish qualms of conscience, no maudlin self-pity to puncture my pride. My sense of morality didn't relate to sin and such, it was more oriented to the old Puritan work-ethic, value given for value received, a good day's work for a good day's pay. And considering the kind of pay I got for just an hour or two of my services, well, it seemed no more than fair to shake my ass and assure the paying client of complete satisfaction. Then too, I had the best of natural assets for a kid in my profession, a genuinely beautiful face and body. All of which made me a pretty successful call girl, a lovely young blonde very much in demand.
I had begun whoring just to get through college, but formal education palled after a while and eventually became a bore. I soon lost interest and dropped out. So my way of life settled into a comfortable groove, quite pleasant except for one small but tiresome drawback. Loneliness. Oh, I was one lonely kid, all right. Business was great and I knew plenty of paying Johns, naturally, but they didn't count as friends. And the only fellows I knew socially just weren't nice enough. I had dropped college boys right along with college, and the more mature guys all seemed too interested in exploiting my talents as a hooker-prospective pimps, really, and who needed them? I had a good solid connection with a high-class madam; why should I give a rakeoff to some lousy pimp? But I was lonely as hell just the same, ripe and ready for a real honest-to-goodness friend. Ripe and ready to go gay, probably, although the idea of such a liaison never even occurred to me.
Odd about that, the way I simply avoided girls. I'd made friends with a few other hookers by then and could easily have attempted a closer relationship with one or another. Not a gay relationship, of course, since I considered myself strictly a man's woman and had no use for lesbians. But even aside from that angle, somehow the friendship of a female wasn't what I wanted, it just didn't seem like the cure for my kind of loneliness.
Anyway, I was ripe and ready for something. It got so bad sometimes that I'd actually sit and wait for my phone to ring, glad of the business but even gladder to have a human companion for a little while. And that was when Zoe came along. Almost as though fate had timed her entry into my life!
Chapter 4
We met on a double call-date. The two men were out-of-towners but not the noisy conventioneer type, and each had a separate bedroom in the hotel suite. During the preliminary get-together in the sitting room there was no hint of group sex, and I paid only scant attention to the other hooker. Zoe was a silver-blonde with the tawny skin coloration of a brunette; nearing thirty, she had been in the racket a long time-an experienced whore, almost an old pro. Or so she managed to convey to me later on. She was putting on weight but still appeared pretty enough, although somewhat coarse-featured. Coarse-mannered, too, as I found out shortly. A half-hour in privacy with my client left him exhausted, and I slipped into bra and panties to head for the bathroom and a quick wash in case he worked up energy for a second round of fun. As it turned out, though, Zoe was already ahead of me. Surprise!
Some surprise. The door wasn't even completely shut; I just touched the knob and pushed and walked in. And there she was, stark naked, parked on the can. I froze in the doorway, pretty revolted by the sight but too flustered to make a move. She smiled then, and even her voice sounded coarse:
"Oh, it's you, Dana. Come on in. Come on, I'll be through in a minute. Just shedding the dew off the lily."
I started to turn away but then realized it would have been an act of rudeness to a sister in the trade. So I stayed there and bent over the sink, turning the water on to wash my hands-just to give myself something to do. The flow from the tap didn't quite drown out the other noise, though-"the dew off the lily"-and my embarrassment increased. I could actually hear the hiss and gush and splash from inside the toilet bowl.
Zoe simply ignored it. "Hey, you know something, honey? I wish we would have made it a foursome instead of splitting up like that. You're the cutest thing I've seen around in ages. And I sure get tired of the same old jazz over and over."
"Uh-huh. Might have been fun." I didn't believe that, of course, but it was hardly the time to disagree.
A moment afterward, I heard the toilet flush. Somewhat relieved, I straightened up from the washbasin. Zoe was straightening up, too, and I couldn't resist taking a look at her, just a hurried glance at the pit of her belly; was she a natural blonde? I sure had my doubts. And yet the fluffy public growth turned out to be as bright as the silver-blond hair on her head.
She grinned, patting herself there, evidently conscious of my curiosity. "I dye it. Nice job, huh?" Then, still fingering the yellow strands in a kind of self-complacent caress, "I keep it dyed for the nibblers."
"The nibblers?"
"Yeah. The freaky-type Johns, the cuntlappers. They love it this color/Turns 'em on."
"Oh. That's interesting."
"Matter of fact, it's dyed all the way under. I've got plenty of hair down there, way down underneath. And some of the Johns, well, like I say, they're real freaky, you know?"
"I'm sure they must be."
"Not that I've got much right to complain, though. I'm just as freaky as any of them, I guess."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, kiddo, real freaky ... "
I saw her coming toward me, a massive mountain of flesh, all hollows and hillocks. To wash her hands, I figured, stepping out of her path. Only I didn't step far enough and all of a sudden she was looming close and then kissing me, kissing me on the lips, kissing me and poking her tongue into my mouth. And it was the craziest sensation-she kept kissing me and I kept thinking only one thought, she hasn't even washed her hands, and my stomach began to rebel and churn queasily. I didn't get sick, though, not even when the tip of that long tongue dove deep into my throat and lodged there like a hook, a barbed hook that refused to be spit out or swallowed. But then she pulled away a little and ended the kiss abruptly, and I heard the sound of a popping vacuum and realized that my own actions had been pretty weird, too-queasy or not, I had kissed her back! Oh shit, I must have been sucking on her tongue, that big hot wet thing in my mouth, I had wrapped my lips around it and sucked ...
"You can open your eyes now. Kid? You're kind of innocent for a hooker, you know?" She chuckled. "Yeah, a foursome might have been fun. Tell you what, let's swap phone numbers and meet for a gab session one of these days. For a cup of coffee and a little conversation, maybe. A girl can get pretty darn lonesome in this racket, right?"
It must have been the wistful note in her voice that got through to me. I nodded my head and probably wouldn't have objected if she had kissed me again. I almost expected her to. But she just patted me on the cheek casually and then swung around and strolled out of the bathroom. Still without washing her hands! My face flamed suddenly and I bent over the sink to douse myself with cold water. And yet I hadn't forgotten what she said about loneliness, and the idea of exchanging phone numbers appealed to me. Admittedly, I could all but taste her tongue in my mouth even then, that monstrous female tongue, but I didn't feel sexually stimulated by it, just vaguely conscious of the novelty, the strangeness. Anyway, I sure wasn't worried about becoming a lesbian.
Innocent, she had called me. And the judgment was accurate, oddly enough, if it could be said of a whore at all. Maybe I'd better lose some of that innocence before it became too big a burden to bear; it seemed only logical, didn't it? So far my innocence had only led to loneliness-oh yes, it was time to do something about that. Even if it meant a change in the direction of my life. Any change would be for the better at this point! I certainly needed a friend-and this interesting creature, older and more experienced than myself, just had to be a likely prospect. And if she wanted to play around a little, well, why not? After washing her hands, though!
Before the double-date ended, we managed to trade phone numbers without much fuss, even including full names-a sign of sincerity in our profession, Dana Thorpe. Zoe Madrigal. Hers sounded phony, but that was pretty much standard in the trade; a hooker assumes a new identity often, especially an old pro who has been around too long and has to keep covering her tracks for one reason or another. Anyway, this one suited her and had a nice ring to it-Zoe Madrigal-an exotic-sounding name for an exotic-looking woman.
Exotic was the word, sure enough. Still a bit coarse, true, but I had already revised my original estimate of her by then, finding the dyed silver-blond hair quite attractive now, a striking contract to her dark eyes and tawny complexion. And even her body appeared less plump under close scrutiny; the extra few pounds were well distributed, augmenting some of the more strategic spots to bring out a kind of latent womanly charm. All curves, no angles. There was an intriguing hint of thick fleshiness about her, a soft solidity, a fullness of lips and breasts and thighs-and the total impression was greater than the sum of its parts, something apart from mere beauty, a thing of pure sensuality. Unless maybe her overture of friendship had stirred my imagination too deeply and blinded my eyes to her imperfections! In which case I could only consider myself fortunate, blessed with a benign sense of vision that would see my friend forever at her best.
Anyway, I had no hesitation about returning her call a few days later, after getting the message from my telephone answering service. Nor was I slow to accept when she invited me over to her place-for coffee and conversation, ostensibly. Or at least that was what I expected, just a drink perhaps and lots of girl-talk; after all, we were just dipping our toes in this big new ocean, testing the temperature of the water to avoid the risk pf a permanent chill to our budding relationship. Why rush?
Why indeed? Only our date got onto an unexpected tangent right away. Zoe had just hurried home from a commercial deal and was about to bathe; she asked me to come into the bathroom and keep her company. I did so unthinkingly at first, but soon felt a bit uncomfortable standing there and seeing her cavort around naked as she adjusted the tub faucets and poured in the bath oil. But there was an advantage now, too, since I could stare at that big body without being sneaky about it. Those sleek calves. Rounded thighs thickening to heavy haunches and domed buttocks, the dark crack revealing only a suggestion of color. Enough to prove her point, though, silver-blond way down under! Where every tiny ripple seemed to have a sexy significance ...
Yes, sexy-I had to admit it. Even now I could feel a kind of weird heat seeping through me. Such a puzzlement! Could I really get like this just looking at a woman's bare ass?
Zoe had finished her preparations. Then, quite nonchalantly-right in front of 'my eyes!-she sat down on the toilet again and made those same awful splashing noises. I felt myself blushing pink at least, if not beet-red. She couldn't help but notice.
"S'matter, honey? You embarrassed?"
"A little."
"Aw, come on, what's to be embarrassed about? In our business, anything goes. Didn't you ever make it with a John who went in for this sort of thing?"
"N-no. Uh, what sort of thing?"
"This. Just what I'm doing. Taking a leak. I used to have a rich old geezer who loved it."
"Oh. You mean he liked watching you?"
"Watching me? Hell no, this guy got into the act. I mean right into it-soaked, you know?-that was how he got his jollies."
"Hmph. There's no accounting for tastes, I suppose."
"I'll say. He used to pay me a small fortune, too, he liked the way I could get excited just doing it to him." The liquid rustle had ceased and Zoe was wiping her crotch brazenly, exhibiting no shame whatsoever. "Yeah, it always got me steamed up somehow, and I didn't even like the old bastard, how about that?"
"You-you didn't like him?"
"Oh, he was just another John to me. And you know how it is with us hookers, kiddo. We all get bored with men after a few years in the business. Hasn't that happened to you yet?"
"No ... not really ... "
She shrugged at that and then rose to get into the tub. I lowered the toilet lid and sat down upon it, feeling a bit more comfortable physically if not mentally. And pretty soon, as the conversation became less crude, I began to relax and just enjoy being there. Zoe was quite a talker, a yarn-spinner with a fine sense of humor; she knew dozens of jokes and anecdotes that kept me in stitches. I found myself liking her more and more, liking her just as a friend, of course, even though she had practically declared herself and was sizing me up as a prospective lover, no doubt. By this time I was fairly sure she wanted me in bed.
Curiously enough, I didn't mind that. My body was beautiful but hardly precious or untouchable, considering how many men had used it. After selling my flesh so often, couldn't I offer it to a friend for the sake of friendship? I may have been rationalizing, true, but by now the idea of a small gay affair between us seemed pretty much a foregone conclusion. Just being there with Zoe and feeling so relaxed was enough to make me want to come back again. I had found a friend and didn't dare risk losing her, not for such a minor thing as a little offbeat sex. And besides, hadn't I already made a decision about losing my innocence?
Strictly speaking, of course, I wasn't that innocent to begin with. I had been at least mildly intimate with a girl a couple of times-an almost inevitable stage in every youngster's development- both of us doing it with an experimental attitude. And since it hadn't meant much, well, I knew my own lesbian tendencies ran too shallow to worry about. I simply wasn't the type to get bored with men. So let it happen, I figured, whatever was in the cards for this relationship of ours, let it happen here and now.
Chapter 5
Immersed in the tub, Zoe' was soaping her breasts, big breasts with a mature sag, attractive although far from perfect. She frowned, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Damn! I'm getting old. These tits of mine used to stand up like turrets. Oh well."
"They're still nice."
"Not like the old days, that's for sure. Like yours, for instance, I'll bet you've got a pair that would put mine to shame. Come to think of it, though, I've never really seen them. Without a bra, I mean. Hey, aren't you warm in here dressed like that? Come on, honey, strip down and get comfy. Let me have a look at you."
"Oh ... it's not that warm."
"Do it, kiddo, just for me. Please? Yeah, I'll bet you've got gorgeous tits. Unless maybe it's all padding, huh?"
"No padding. I'm for real."
"Show me, show me."
How could I deny her such a trivial thing? Somehow it seemed like a simple and natural request that merited an equally simple and natural reply. I shed my blouse and then my bra and sat there on the toilet lid with pardonable pride, basking in the compliments she immediately tossed my way.
Then, after the burst of flattery, "Touch them, kid. Rub your nipples a little, make those cute little buttons pop right up and get stiff. Go ahead, I want to see you like that." And in a casual tone, almost an afterthought, "I've got a hunch you and I are going to be good buddies, you know? I don't mean just in a sexy way, either. I mean real pals."
It was as if she had been reading my mind, and I practically melted on the spot. Automatically, my hands glided up to my breasts, caressing the nipples to hard peaks. It felt nice, but that was just a normal reaction, not a lesbian response; actually, my sole thought was to please my new-found friend.
"Zoe? Like this?"
"Can't you make them any bigger?"
"Not much."
"Maybe you need a little help." She climbed out of the tub and started drying herself with a bath towel. "C'mere, honey-do my back, will you?"
I moved toward her quickly, jumping up from my seat to reach for the towel. But she shifted slightly and I ran smack into her naked body instead. And then once again she was kissing me, the taste of her mouth vaguely reminiscent of alcohol and perfume. It was a gentle kiss this time and I let my lips go soft and pliant to allow her questing tongue to creep in. The tongue became an ingenious delight, darting back and forth and around and around and never coming to rest. I gasped for breath and felt a dragging sensation in my loins, aware of how sexy the kiss was but even more impressed by its sweetness. I couldn't smell the alcohol anymore, only the perfume. The blend of woman and woman. The taste of woman and woman. There was something sugary and delicious and terribly overwhelming about it ...
With apparent purpose, her kiss slid down to seize upon one of my nipples. To make it bigger? She sucked avidly, her moist lips and open mouth forming a busy vacuum with that delightful tongue in the middle. To me it felt just great, but I couldn't tell whether her effort was succeeding or not. It must have, though, because she made a little chuckling noise in her throat and transferred her attentions to the other nipple. And right then and there I recognized the instantly noticeable difference between the two! Although I could already sense this second effort of hers bringing them both into balance.
A moment later she pushed me away, her hands strong and firm on my shoulders. I thought she was going to kiss me again, kiss my lips, kiss me and stick that big hot tongue in my mouth, but she just stood there like that and we leaned closer and closer until at last our breasts were touching. Bare breasts, nipple to nipple, touching and grazing and moving just enough to make each contact a feathery caress.
"Nice, huh? You've got terrific tits, kid." Zoe's hands slipped from my shoulders, one dropping down to attack the zipper of my skirt. "Great legs, too-but I want to see all of you."
"Oh ... "
"I want to see your pussy."
"Please don't-"
"You've seen mine, right? Okay, so now it's time we got a peek at yours. Only I'm going to do more than just look, honey-especially if it's as pretty as the rest of you. And I'm damn sure it is, too. But if that's the case, I'm going to suck it. Fair warning. Okay? Of course, if your cunt is ugly ... "
It all sounded a bit silly, standing there and discussing the relative prettiness or ugliness of the female sex organ. A vagina is a vagina-hardly an object of beauty! But I didn't stop her from tugging on the zipper. And when the skirt tumbled, I shoved my panties right down along with it.
That broke the contact of our breasts. Mine felt all swollen and huge, the nipples like hard round pebbles. Due for a small compliment, I assumed, since that was how it had all begun. By the same token, so was my now-nude pubic area due for some flattery; that too was part of the strange scene we were playing. But there were no compliments, no words of flattery, only an embrace that was pulling me downward toward the floor, pulling and positioning and arranging my body for greater intimacy.
"Zoe? What-"
"I want it, I want that cunt of yours. Like I said, kid, I'm going to suck it. Suck you off, that's what."
"But-but can't we ... uh ... the bed ... "
"Right here. Now. Turns me on-the bathroom, you know? I told you I was kind of freaky, remember?"
"F-freaky?"
"Yeah. You better believe it. And this is one of the things I'm freaky about. Sex in the bathroom. So don't try to stop me, oh shit, I'm going to suck your cunt and make you cream all over the place. Just relax and enjoy it, honey-and if you should happen to feel like joining in ... "
"Oh. Please don't ask me-"
"No pressure. Just don't be bashful, that's all. Now shut up and give me some cunt. Nice young cunt. Yeah!"
A bed would have been more comfortable, but at that point any attempt to persuade her appeared futile. So I simply did what she said, I relaxed and enjoyed it, finding a rather intriguing new sensation in the caress. A woman's soft mouth. A woman's tongue inside me, all soft and warm and wet and yet almost downy in its softness somehow, yes, that was it, a fleecy thrill, utterly and irresistibly charming!
Or so it seemed in the beginning. But then the lick-lick-lick of that tongue gradually gained intensity, setting up a swirling motion on the sensitive underside of my clitoris. It became alarmingly fierce after a while, generating a volcanic glow in the depths of my body, a feverish accumulation of heat that threatened to erupt in flame before it could disperse itself through the rest of my flesh, radiating outward into my limbs, out to the tingling tips of my toes and fingers. She switched tactics from time to time, taking the tiny clit-bud between her lips and sucking on it almost savagely; at least it felt like that, although I could only make a woefully uneducated guess as to what exactly was going on down there. It struck me how little I knew of such sophisticated erotic techniques. Oh, there was so much to learn-if I cared to learn it ...
If. Oh sure. Another foregone conclusion? If I should happen to feel like joining in. As though there could be any doubt! How foregone can a conclusion get?
Anyway, her body was already twisting around and all but demanding a little reciprocal attention. I caught a glimpse of color, the dewy pink of her vulva glistening through the overlapped fringe, the bisecting line of the bright silver-blond tuft. Like a pair of lips on the verge of a smile, a vertical Mona Lisa smile ...
"Kid? Dana! Come on, huh?"
Nice of her to call me by name for a change. Only she needn't have asked aloud, really, the smiling pink lips had already propounded the question in silent eloquence. And I was already answering, glad to offer my mouth, even straining a bit, groping for the center of the silky-wet warmth as it settled slowly around my face. I kissed her there, trying to duplicate what she was doing to me, not quite knowing how and feeling somewhat awkward about it. Or naive, certainly, and with good reason-after all, this pair of lips wasn't like any I had ever kissed before, these were cunt-lips and couldn't kiss me back the same way.
Cunt-lips! A tremor rippled the length of my spine, a shudder of guilt. Pm kissing a cunt!
But no, it wasn't just a cunt, any woman's cunt, it was the cunt of my friend. And she was doing the same thing to me, of course, this friend that I needed so much. Although it did seem strange that I should be discovering such pleasure in it, deriving such a wealth of excitement from this undeniable act of perversion. Unless that in itself was the cause of it-in part, anyhow-turning a scary sense of the forbidden into an aphrodisiac thrill.
Oh shit, what did it matter? Maybe I was rationalizing, using our friendship as an excuse to placate my conscience. That didn't matter, either. Nothing mattered but the poignancy of this instant of revelation. This terrifying and yet lewdly delicious shock of self-awareness. Followed immediately by an impetuous desire to prove myself a more proficient sex-partner ...
Although she didn't mind my awkwardness, apparently-her thick thighs spread wider, her belly squashed down boldly, and I felt the lips stretch wide and the soft split flesh engulf my cheeks and jounce gleefully upon the lick-and-thrust of my busy tongue. And it was sure busy, that slippery tongue of mine, oh yes, by that time I was no longer just kissing, I was really doing it, the real thing, the lesbian thing-awkward or not, I was sucking this woman's cunt and enjoying it immensely. Far more than I had anticipated! Even though there were moments when I did wish we were in a comfortable bed instead of scrambling around on the hard tile floor. And I wondered if "freaky about sex in the bathroom" meant that we would be coming in here together like this often.
Chapter 6
Afternoon seemed as good a time as any for a social visit, all the more so since it was one of those days when my loneliness had become just too oppressive. Like any night-creature, my friend slept late and might still be asleep, though, so I waited and fumed impatiently until a reasonable hour to pick up the phone. Then, my nerves taut with tension, I spun the dial and at last heard her throaty hello floating over the wire.
"Zoe? It's me. Dana."
"Oh. Hi, kid."
"Hope I didn't wake you."
"Nope. I'm up. What's on your mind?"
"I'm lonesome. Okay to come over?"
"Not today, honey. Some other time."
My heart plummeted. "Zoe, are you busy? Do you have somebody there with you?"
"Nothing like that. I'm alone. But I am pretty busy. My cleaning woman has been sick for a week, and I finally decided to do something about it. So I'm giving the place a good swabbing."
"Is that all? I'll come and keep you company."
"Better skip it, kid. I'm all messy and the apartment looks like a disaster area. I've got at least another hour's work to do, and if you're here it'll never get done."
"Sure, it will. I'll help you."
"Silly girl. Watch out or I might take you up on that. No, not today. Somehow I just can't picture you scrubbing the bathroom floor."
"Oh shit, why not? I'm serious. Between the two of us, we'll get the job done in no time. Zoe? Please?"
Silence. Then, with a hint of severity, "Okay, kiddo, you're asking for it. Come on over and I'll put you to work. But remember now, when I say work ... "
"Of course. I'm not complaining. Be right over." The tension drained as I hung up. Not that I cared much about housecleaning, but anything was better than sitting here alone. I got ready in a hurry and was lucky enough to hail a cruising cab without the usual interlude of frustration.
Zoe answered the door in a dusty housedress. The silver-blond hair was tucked up under a bandanna, and there were sooty smudges on her face. "That was fast. You must be real anxious to lend a hand. I guess you ought to strip down first, though, no sense getting those nice clothes grimy. Get undressed."
"Uh ... everything?"
"Sure. Why be formal? But don't get any ideas, sweetie, this isn't a recreation period. We're working, not playing." Her dark eyes twinkled. "Later maybe-well, we'll see ... "
I didn't pursue the issue, peeling my things off and plunging right into the chores. After the initial flush of embarrassment, I actually enjoyed my nudity. Zoe leered at me suggestively only once, then she went back to work herself. As if she was quite accustomed to having a naked young girl around! And I found a keen delight in the sensation of total freedom from clothing, the touch of the cool air becoming a source of energy almost.
The apartment was small and not very dirty, but there was still plenty to be done. And, like a stern taskmistress relishing her role, Zoe made certain that I did my share. Perhaps even more. But I didn't dare gripe, considering the sincerity of my offer-although I really hadn't expected her to make me scrub the bathroom floor! Anyway, I got it done-and to her satisfaction-even cadging a small compliment for my endeavor. And with the two of us pitching in like that, the entire housecleaning job was soon finished.
"Whew! I'm glad that's over." Zoe shed the dusty dress, her sole garment, and flopped on the bed. "Ought to take a bath now, but I'm just too pooped. The hell with it."
I gazed lingeringly, fascinated by the naked bulk of her, the massive breasts, the thick thighs, the endlessly rolling expanse of tawny skin. And the silver-blond fluff, naturally; what eye could pass over that centrally located focal point?
"You're staring, kid."
"Sorry ... "
"It's okay. I like being stared at. It's a kick for some of my Johns, too, they like looking at me. Yeah. They better like it. That's what they're paying for."
"So let me stare. I've even paid for it in a way, isn't that so? I helped you clean the apartment."
"Hmm, that's right. You put in a lot of work, I'll admit. I owe you more than just staring privileges, though." She rose from the bed somewhat gingerly. "Oh well, nobody gets something for nothing these days. I guess it's my turn to pay off, huh?"
I blocked her path. "Where are you going?"
"I've got to take that bath, honey. I must smell awful. I'm the kind of girl who sweats, you know? Besides, I've been working hours longer than you."
"You smell nice. Like ... like Zoe-and that's nice, as far as I'm concerned. Anyway, you don't owe me a darn thing. I was glad to help, that's what friends are for." Still blocking the way, I tried desperately to keep her out of the bathroom; that tile floor in there was so hard! And the bed looked so comfortably soft, just perfect for two weary women. "Just call on me anytime. No charge. Anything else you'd like done right now? I'm still available."
"Hmm. Available, eh? There you go, making foolish offers again. How come you're so good to me?"
We stood there face to face, both naked, almost close enough to touch. She peered at me for an interminable moment, her dark eyes narrowing to sensuously quizzical slits. Her hands came up to cup my cheeks and I could feel my skin grow warm under the contact. Warmer still as she held me like that and brushed her soft mouth against mine, moving her head from side to side slowly. The gliding motion became one prolonged caress-until I gasped and parted my lips and was immediately granted the gift of her tongue, cause for a silent sigh of relief; the bath was forgotten and now it was just a matter of tumbling into bed.
She was still kissing me, though. Her hands left my face and fluttered over my body, fondling me with tantalizing fingertips. My breasts, my back, my buttocks. Our mouths separated, hers remaining open to nibble at my earlobe and utter breathy syllables of sound. Words that I couldn't quite make out. Words that I could feel rather than hear. Whispers and murmurs and throaty noises of urgency -and they needed no translation ...
Then, "Honey, wait. I really ought to bathe."
"No. It's all right. Please don't-"
"Okay, okay. But I'm self-conscious about it. Let me use some perfume. It'll only take a minute."
There was an atomizer on the dresser. She picked it up and began spraying herself. Seething with impatience, I snatched it* from her grasp and completed the task hurriedly. The cloud of sweet scent made my nose twitch. By the time I set the thing back down again, my heart was pounding like mad in an effort to keep pace with my panting breath. Everything took so long! Would we never get to bed?
So it appeared. She smiled and chucked me under the chin, a little nudge that lifted my lips to hers. I whimpered in desperation, but she was already kissing me again, stifling the sound and slamming it back down my throat with a ruthless mouth and domineering tongue, no gentle kiss this second round; oh shit, I couldn't recall ever being kissed like that in all my life!
Her arms enfolded me, the palms of her hands hot as she squeezed and kneaded the flesh of my buttocks, pulling me into a tight embrace. I felt her hips squirm and rotate, jutting her pelvis hard against mine in tiny circles. The insistent pressure evoked my participation and our bodies went into a grinding motion, cunt scraping cunt and nipple flattening nipple. Until, quite unexpectedly, she stepped backward and tugged and we both toppled to the bed.
It wasn't exactly accidental, I realized, she had fallen underneath me and all of a sudden her breasts were in front of my eyes, big and beautiful and demanding. Yes, demanding. And I was in no position to protest. My mouth plunged. They pillowed my head, cradling and surrounding my flushed face with all of their womanly softness, coaxing me into a daze of misty intoxication with the fragrance left by the lavishly plied perfume atomizer.
"Yeah, kid, that's the way. Kiss, kiss. You like Zoe's big hot tits, huh? Yeah. Everybody does. Only they're yours now, all yours, nobody else's-so just treat 'em right, okay?"
A sob oozed from my buried lips, a muffled sob of something akin to gratitude-these big hot tits, all mine?-and I made the only response possible, extending myself to meet the test of this grave new responsibility, expanding my meager knowledge by sheer instinct. I mouthed the lovely flesh-mounds deliriously and yet not without a certain inherent skill, turning my exploration into a triumph of discovery as at last the pliant nipples grew tense under my moistly swirling tongue-caresses. More confident now, I feasted upon the swollen pleasure-peaks at leisure, taking time to sniff and savor the rich blend of perfume and perspiration, an odor more provocative then perfume by itself. I found such impressions novel at least, if not exactly earth-shaking in scope; anyway, it was nice to be learning while doing, rather a unique thrill ...
"Hey! Not bad for a beginner, not bad at all. The way you go for these big tits of mine. You're all right, honey. But just wait till you get a mouthful of cunt, Zoe's big hot cunt-you'll go out of your mind! It's different doing it from down there, not like a sixty-nine, you know?"
I didn't know, of course. Nor did I care to find out at the moment. But there was a force being exerted on my head, a kind of lazy but forceful guidance, and I had the feeling that those affectionately entwined fingers might just tear my hair out by the roots if they met with any opposition. And wouldn't that put a bit of a strain on our new friendship? Prudence, if nothing else, called for at least passive cooperation on my part. So I stilled my conscience and let my girlfriend be my guide instead, dreading the destination but finding an unexpected excitement in the journey. My lips and tongue went on tasting and sampling on the way down, pausing awhile to dab hot-breathed kissed into her navel and then dallying appreciatively over the softly rounded belly curve.
Her torso arched up from the bed, though, an apparently impulsive gesture that all but ended the suspense, jamming her dyed silver-blond patch into my face. It felt almost harsh after so much smoothness, making the delicate flesh underneath a more pleasant prospect. Then too, I was inveigled by a more tangible lure, a whiff of something beyond the mingled perfume and perspiration, something quite indefinable. Unless it was just a cunty smell. Whatever it was, my own impulse took over as hers faded, and I followed my nose to its source and clung there after her body went limp.
"Oh! Oh, you doll!"
"Mmm?"
"You're there now. Suck it. Suck my cunt!"
The shock of the coarse command made me shudder, but I reacted swiftly and spontaneously, burrowing between her legs. Into the hot core, soft and wet and pulpy, a pool of seductive pleasure. Spicy and pungent and delectably sweet all at the same time. Like a mystery that I was solving and not quite understanding ...
"Yeah. Kid? See what you've been missing? Feels different from down there, right?
"Mmm ... "
"You're pretty good. Lots of enthusiasm." She moved her hips languorously, toying with my hair. "You like Zoe's cunt, huh? Just like I told you. Don't overdo it, though-if you want my pussy, you've got to treat me nice. Take it easy, you're not scrubbing floors now."
There was a definite note of criticism in her voice. Ruefully, I realized that my technique must have been sadly lacking. It was different down here, sure enough, quite new to me. Different on a bed, too-all the comfort in the world and no need for any frenzied haste-wasn't this the time and the place to be showing a little more care and consideration?
Chapter 7
Okay, so I wasn't scrubbing floors now. This was a woman's soft cunt and required better treatment. Zoe's cunt. The best of treatment!
It must have been the richly charged aroma that had sent me into such a transport of excitement. But that was no excuse. Even without the benefit of long experience in this unfamiliar art, I should have approached it more cautiously. Anyway, my inner turbulence had simmered down somewhat; duly chastened now, I was ready to begin all over again.
Bending my arms, I slipped my hands under and around her thighs and up onto the curve of her belly. The skin rippled to my touch. I teased lightly, sliding my fingers down to open the lips and prepare her most secret flesh for my suck-kiss. Head bowed by not buried, I probed for her clitoris with the tip of my tongue and then began licking slowly and skillfully. Or with all the skill I could muster, certainly. Which must have been sufficient at that point; her response was instantaneous-a moan, then a murmur of approval:
"Mmm, that's just grand. Keep it up, kid, you're sure getting to me. Don't be afraid to dig in, though, I'm hot enough to take just about anything you can dish out."
The compliment elated me. I went on doing it, wanting it, wanting to get to her. Using my thumbs now, I pressed the cunt-lips wider apart, opening up a valley of quivering flesh to my lapping tongue. I licked both sides, caressing the smooth walls of her cunt, reveling in the sensuous engulfment of my nose and mouth and chin. Peering upward, up the length of her voluptuously undulating body and through the divide of her bosom, I could see her far-off head lolling limply, the facial features contorted in passion. And once again I concentrated on her clit-bump, trapping it between my tongue tip and the edge of my teeth, munching gently but with unrelenting pressure. Until the violence of her reaction communicated itself urgently and drove me beyond the bounds of awareness, and I knew only that such hopeful attention to the technicalities was no longer necessary; her cunt was lurching up and down across my mouth now, exaggerating the already furious friction of my tongue. As though something stupendous was about to happen, something immense and inexorable ...
"Oh! Now! Show me how much you love it, baby! Zoe's big hot cunt. Come on, don't be bashful, rub your face in it, dive right in and rub your face all around inside me. In my cunt, my sexy cunt-don't you just love Zoe's big hot sexy cunt?"
She met my thrust hungrily, the moist maw opening wide to swallow me in one greedy gulp. For a little while my face became part of her body, the hair-fringed viscous lips clinging like a giant suction-cup, sealing me into the depths of her flesh. A shuddering quake rocked her, rocking both of us together. Her legs rose and thrashed wildly, then she jerked and twitched and caught my head in the clamped vise of her soft but solid thighs, muttering her erotic lust alound as I fought for breath and almost fainted. It was noisy in there, full of sound and fury-all that inner turbulence!-an orgasm of prodigious proportion, truly a climactic cunt-convulsion. Above and beyond the noise, though, I heard her shriek my name, a shriek of purest pleasure, and knew that my valiant effort had not gone unnoticed; it was music to my ears, my poor crushed ears ...
Even after she went limp, I remained in place and went on trying to please her. Gently, with the flat of my tongue, I continued licking as she came down from her peak. But I was doing it for myself, also, very much aroused by the intensity of her climax, still too involved to stop. It was all so new to me, I just wanted to go on and on like this, unable to choke off the flow of my ardor. She sensed it somehow and didn't push me away. So I stayed there in that same intimately close position, wooing her with worshipful kisses and waiting for some impossible miracle to set me free. Or-hopefully!-to make my involvement even greater.
But was it so impossible? Her body had begun to twitch again, and I could detect a definite quiver of her leg muscles every now and then. She wasn't exactly panting with desire, of course, but the prospects were becoming brighter by the minute. The prospects for what, I didn't know, but that was hardly a hindrance, not enough to quell my optimism or curb my initiative.
"Hey ... "
"Hmm?"
"What's going on down there? You're a busy little beaver. Be a shame to waste all that energy, I guess. I'll just have to get back into the mood myself, huh?"
"Ummm ... "
"Okay. Slow down kid. Let me ... uh ... "
"Mmm?"
"Hold it just a second, will you?"
The shift of her body puzzled me. Wheezing a bit from the exertion, she was spiraling over onto her stomach. Until those two big buttocks were practically staring me in the face. She came to rest then, ending the puzzle; oh shit, I knew damn well what that bold new posture meant!
"Kid?"
"Zoe, do you really want-"
"What's this, mutiny? Too much for you, huh? And here I've been thinking you were available. Available for anything, just about-wasn't that what you said?-or maybe you figured I wouldn't take advantage of those foolish offers you keep making."
She was taking advantage, all right, taking advantage with a vengeance. Those silly words of mine! And I had only been trying to steer her away from the bathroom at the time. So now look what it was leading to; good grief, I sure hadn't expected anything like this. Talk about novelty! The exotic woman with the exotic name evidently had some exotic notions, too-the devious twists and turns of her mind were unpredictable.
Only it wasn't her mind that had me in such a funk, it was the twist and turn of that body of hers. So deliberate! Rolling over like that, without so much as a by-your-leave, putting her backside right in front of my nose ...
"Come on, Dana, don't keep me waiting."
The buttocks looked like those big round breasts up there, tits without nipples-but with a deeper cleavage. Deeper and darker. And they were stronger, too, strong and powerful and yet remarkably feminine somehow, feminine enough to stir desire without resorting to all that strength and power. I could already feel myself floundering in a fog of dizziness. Did she really want me to kiss her? Oh, the things a girl will do for the sake of friendship!
I pressed my lips to the skin fleetingly, once, twice, a touch upon each cheek. She wriggled, murmuring under her breath-unintelligible but a command nonetheless, and I let my open mouth glide over the bulging flesh. Another soft curve to receive my caress. Another hill, another valley, another exotic novelty? The dark place, the deep dark cleft, there too ?
"That's it, honey."
"Hmm?"
"All the way now, you hear me? Like you did my cunt. You'll love it, you'll love Zoe's nice big soft ass."
Yes, there too, all the way! I licked daintily, exploring with the tip of my tongue, wedging my face down into the crack to zero in on the target. The great fleshy mounds went wide apart, adjusting to every tiny bit of pressure, and I felt myself sinking into the slippery trench as if something down there was sucking at me, drawing me into its depths. Tongue first, naturally. Oh, naturally! Wasn't that what my domineering friend wanted? All the way. And more. She was still talking to me, muttering into the pillow, but I had pillows of my own and could hardly hear her. Not that it mattered. I heard enough to spur me on, familiar little sounds of ecstasy.
Or was I making those sounds myself? Like an animal almost, a pig snuffling in its trough utterly revolting-except that no pig had ever been happier! So once again my unpredictable friend had made an accurate prediction, oh yes, I was loving Zoe's nice big soft ass. And when she reared up and thrust that huge mass of softness back at me, I went wild slobbering around inside it, pulling the puckered ring of flesh into my mouth and piercing its center rapaciously, impaling it upon the full-length lance of my tongue. But even then I was conscious of her needs and more than willing to comply when her voice reached my ear, no muffled noises this time, a definite demand: "Give me your hand, baby. In my cunt, my cunt, my hot cunt, that's where I need something, too. Fingerfuck me!"
I angled one arm underneath and up between her thighs and was soon fluttering my fingertips in a vaguely rhythmic pattern designed around the motion of my tongue. Fingers up her cunt, tongue up her ass; no wonder she hit her boiling point in a hurry! I sensed it coming on, another one of those rumbling and roaring explosions of hers. My own was still some distance away, though, worse luck; it didn't seem quite fair to be left behind again. But that was quickly remedied. With a little effort and ingenuity. After all, I did have another hand; why not put it to good use?
It was moving all by itself, practically, a hand cupping my crotch and a fingertip flogging my clitoris. How nice to be doing it to both of us at the same time, a double fingerfuck! Only the whole business didn't last very long, no more than a minute or so-I felt the drawstring of orgasm tighten around my hot flesh and all but cried out as mounting frustration gave way to delicious fulfillment. Not that I could have made much noise at the moment, my mouth was still occupied, busy to the bittersweet end, still concerned with my friend's pleasure more than my own. Even as her body collapsed in the heat of climax. Until the crisis passed at last and I lost track and careened toward voluptuous oblivion ...
I awoke in that same position almost, all curled up at the foot of the bed, my face turned sideways and cushioned by her flesh, nestled in the soft crease that divided thigh from buttock. It could only have been minutes since I dropped off, my brain and body were still in a state of exhaustion. Like a boozeless hangover.
Wearily but with a certain caution, I moved up and stretched out beside her, hoping for at least a small catnap before rise-and-shine time. My hopes came to naught, though; exhausted or not, I just couldn't drop off again, not with a maelstrom of painful thoughts suddenly coming to life inside my skull. Ugly thoughts, ugly and unrelenting-a nightmare in the middle of the afternoon-oh hell,, how low could a girl sink?
Alongside me, Zoe had no such trouble. Apparently no qualms of conscience bothered her. No regrets. No misgivings to prod her with a pointed finger of shame. How peaceful she looked, how different from a few moments ago; no indeed, nothing troubled my freaky friend. She slept the sleep of innocence, untouched by the shadows of despair and self-recrimination. Oh, how I wished it was that easy for me! If I could only shut my eyes without seeing that bad dream again, my nightmarish scene of depravity ...
Bad dream ?
Hah! Bad maybe, but hardly a dream. And if such things were so vile, why had I done them? True, the unspeakable evil had been forced on me in a way, but I sure hadn't put up much resistance. Darn little. And after the first few moments, none at all. Because I had found myself enjoying it, admittedly. And because I had some kind of weird fixation on this worldly-wise hussy, something outside my control, outside my comprehension. It wasn't even a lesbian feeling, really, just an overwhelming sense of humility, a shy acknowledgment of her right to dominate me.
Not that I dared overlook the lesbian possibilities, of course, hadn't I already accepted her beauty and blinded myself to her imperfections? If they were imperfections. Curious, I sat up slowly and studied her, striving for an objective viewpoint. Only how could I be objective about my exotic friend? Zoe Madrigal. My friend with the exotic name. Wasn't her body just as exotic? I had never known soft female hills and hollows could be so fascinating. No wonder painters and sculptors did so much work with nude women as models. I loved the tawny color, the tinge of burnt orange; even in sleep her skin seemed to shimmer and glow, spreading an infectious warmth that pervaded my own cool creaminess. But she was no longer asleep evidently, rolling around on the bed, asprawl now, her limbs flung apart in loose abandon. As though she was waiting for something to happen. With her eyes still closed ...
Then, a whisper, "Kid? You awake?"
"Uh-huh."
"Wanna be nice to me?"
"Hmm? Oh ... "
"How about a little affection to wake me up, huh? You know. A little suck-suck?"
"If you like."
"I like, I like. From you I always like. You turn me on, baby, you've got what it takes. And aren't you glad? Aren't you glad you've got the kind of tongue that turns me on?"
The backhanded compliment helped. Unhurried but eager, I slid low on the bed and ducked my head down between the indolently sprawled legs. And as I buried myself in the soft flesh, a spark of fresh excitement leaped into flame inside me. Ah yes, the woman was wicked, a self-centered wicked bitch, but somehow even in that very wickedness there was a strange and beautiful enchantment.
"Dana. Darling! Yeah, that's it, just like that. Oh, you're a darling, an absolute darling. And available-you'll always be available, won't you? Of course you will ... my little cuntlapper, that's what you are ... Zoe's available little cuntlapper ... "
And I was, I was-just hearing her call me darling was enough to make me become whatever she wanted. Zoe's available little cuntlapper ... ass-licker ... whatever!
Chapter 8
About that "freaky in the bathroom" bit, well, it soon became apparent that she wasn't kidding. The affair itself didn't seem at all repulsive to me, it just took some getting used to-especially in her more unpredictable moments. And my "loneliness" problem was at last solved, a problem more important than anything involved with sex. So for the sake of companionship, I was willing to go along with Zoe's peculiar quirk.
We had fun in bed too, naturally, but now somehow it was always more exciting in the bathroom. Uncomfortable but exciting-and because of her one-track mind, what else? It didn't matter what we did in there, just as long as we did it there. In bed she was pretty ladylike all too often, and sometimes I got the impression that my sex partner was acting rather than living. Acting her role almost as though she had a commercial client to please. But in the bathroom, oh shit, that was different, that was where I saw the real Zoe. And I no longer minded her coarseness by that time; it was simple and sincere, the sort of thing a true friend should understand and make allowances for. Especially in a bathroom, of all places'. So eventually I began nudging her in that direction myself when the old sex urge came on. I too needed the increased excitement-doesn't every-one?-no matter what brought it to flourishing life.
Once that happened, though, it was like the shattering of a barrier between us. Pretty soon she started dropping hints of new and stranger things to come. Hints only, however-and always with a wry twist that bordered on humor, a bit of camouflage that disguised the brew but kept the cauldron bubbling. Which made me all the more curious after a while and consequently all the more indulgent when I did manage to wring a kind of coy half-confession out of her. Some confession!
"That's it, kiddo. And you'd better not laugh."
"Who's laughing?"
"Well, anyway, I'm glad to see you're not embarrassed."
"Zoe, nothing you do embarrasses me anymore. Those days are gone forever, over and done with. And this really isn't such a big deal, you know. I've sucked you off on the bathroom floor often enough, I guess it wouldn't be a hell of a lot different if you were sitting on the can."
"Honey? You-you mean you're willing to try it?"
"Don't get carried away now. I'll just kneel down and suck your cunt and make you come, how's that?"
"Oh ..."
"You sound disappointed."
"Umm, well, I thought for a minute-"
"Let me get used to the idea first, will you? Don't think about it, let's just see what happens. Come on. Hurry! Before I lose my nerve."
It was odd the way I sounded off. Like a command almost, and I certainly wasn't the type to issue orders. Especially to someone like Zoe, older and wiser and infinitely more experienced than myself. But she understood, of course-anyway, she scooted right into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet, anxious to take advantage of my impulsive gesture. Anxious to find out just how available I really was, no doubt.
As usual, we were both naked. I stood there trembling, aware of a change in the atmosphere; the small bathroom seemed sexier than ever all of a sudden. Zoe's thick thighs were spread wide, and under the cover of the silver-blond bush I could see the faint vertical line, the split, the pink-lipped mouth of her vagina. She looked positively lewd sitting there like that, but I wasn't repelled or offended by the sight, oh no, my actions were governed by a definite fascination. For a fleeting instant I recalled the night of our first meeting, the time I barged in on her in exactly this same pose. In the bathroom of that hotel suite. It wasn't so very long ago, and yet everything seemed different now.
"Kid? Don't you dare cop out on me!"
"I-I won't."
"Come on, then. Never mind anything else, just suck me, suck my cunt and make me come. Do it good, huh?"
I sank to my knees, not quite prepared for the shocking sensation of humility that came over me. Her body wriggled, a little shiver almost, and I realized that she was truly aroused. I hadn't touched her yet, nor was she touching herself in any way-just sitting there and smoldering impatiently!-but her emotional state was self-evident, as clear and vividly graphic as the facial expression and body language of an old-time silent film star.
It communicated itself to me. I leaned in over the curved front of the seat and kissed her belly. A moan sounded and then, abruptly, her heavy loins surged upward to greet the downward plunge of my head. And right there on the toilet Zoe became more excited than I'd ever seen her. I had expected to browse a little, to nibble gently, to display my recently acquired prowess as a lesbian lover-but in the heat of that bizarre moment all such technical knowledge went up in smoke and I just sucked her hot cunt madly. The flesh was wet and slick with secreted juices and I smeared my face around inside the furry cleft, hitting her clitoris with the tip of my nose as I dove down and deeper with my tongue. The position was difficult but not impossible, and she helped by grabbing a double handful of my hair and guiding me. It hurt, naturally, but I didn't much care about such petty grievances-I probably wouldn't have minded if she had ripped out every strand by its roots, that was how thoroughly my own rising passion had taken over.
Still clutching me close, she began lurching and bucking up off the toilet seat, grinding crazily. Every so often I managed to peer up at her during an elongated upsweep of my tongue; her eyes were glazed with lust, her features contorted, her breasts heaving and her stomach muscles rippling-oh shit, I had never seen her in such a state. Talk about passion! I had never seen anyone in such a state. With a few snakes growing out of her scalp, I would have been scared to look at her for fear of turning to stone.
Suddenly she loosed a loud groan and I felt her flesh go into its climactic spasm. I wanted to make it good for her, better than ever, the very best, and I all but pushed my entire head between the stretched and gaping lips of her cunt.
She screamed. Then, "Yeah, that's it, kid, that's the way, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me with your face ... "
I couldn't hear much more as her voice crested and then subsided to a burbling moan, but the echo of her cry was still, bouncing around inside the tiled bathroom walls. Inside my skull, too. And I knew that was exactly what I had been doing, sure enough-fucking her with my face! I was still doing it, going at it hot and heavy as her orgasm struck its summit.
Concerned only with satisfying my friend, up until that instant I hadn't paid much attention to my own needs. But now I became conscious of the craving void down there in my body; it had grown unbearable in this long-lasting crisis sand I just couldn't hold back, I had to reach down and poke my hand into the awful emptiness. Not that it took much poking, oh no, a mere jiggle would have been plenty! Anyway, I fucked myself with my fingers and fucked Zoe with my face and we both went into our convulsion at the same time. Which I could only call a fucking miracle ...
Afterward-miracles aside-a rueful memory of shame and self-humiliation lingered to grate upon my conscience. I had sucked her off on a toilet seat, imagine! Were there no limits to my slide into depravity?
I tried to shut it out of my mind, the painful picture of myself kneeling there like that. After all, it was over now and I could only renew the agony by dwelling on it. And yet I couldn't even end that much; the bathroom scene-with my own naked body in that demeaning position-was etched upon my brain in the cruelest of corrosives. It was scar tissue now, burned in permanently by Zoe and her freakiness. And it would remain there to haunt me forever, more than likely. A memory of hell, a loathsome kind of hell created for my own personal torture by a sluttish she-devil who didn't need a pitchfork to gain instant obedience to her monstrously crude commands!
Anyway, for a while I studiously avoided any further contact with the woman, using the demands of my burgeoning clientele as an excuse to do nothing but work and sleep-an excuse that a fellow prostitute could well understand and would have to accept. As a matter of fact, it was a fairly legitimate excuse at the time, since that was when dear old Jerome first strayed into my life. Jerome Ackroyd, out-of-town businessman, a gentleman and a scholar, aged in years but still young at heart-and simply loaded with cash and checkbooks and credit cards (to say nothing of stocks and bonds and real estate!) and all those goodies to turn a commercial-minded young girl's head. And despite the money involved in our own personal pay-and-play deals-discreetly arranged by our mutual acquaintance, the madam-the old boy insisted on wining and dining and wooing me on every date, treating me like an escort-service doll rather than a high-priced doxy. So it was no wonder I went out with him often and found the strength to put that other less savory relationship behind me.
But then Jerome finished his big-city business and took off for home, leaving me prey to my lonely nightmares again. And soon the grotesque memories began to blur and run together in my mind, chaotic at first and then converging to a focus with kaleidoscopic clarity. I thought of the fantastic thrill-the clutch of those big soft womanly thighs at climax, the unprecedented fury of Zoe's excitement-and I felt my own excitement reviving and gaining new magnitude, deriving a certain strange enhancement even from my recollections of shame. On top of which my old loneliness returned in all its depressing force, and at last I could only surrender to the inevitable and swallow my pride, making the all-important phone call to resume the affair.
She was happy to hear from me, happier still to take up where we had left off. And just as bossy as ever, of course-hardly an unexpected development! Paradoxically, now that her "confession" had been offered and acted upon so openly it was no longer discussed between us, and I realized that the performance in the bathroom had taken on a special significance. As though it had become sacrosanct, somehow, too deeply meaningful to talk about. But the performance was repeated again and again in the days that followed, and soon the idea of sex in the bathroom didn't mean rolling around on the tile floor; now only the commode was implied. The utilitarian toilet had become our try sting-place. Rendezvous for lovers! Or for friends, rather, since I still couldn't conceive of myself as a lesbian.
Chapter 9
Maybe my vision was fuzzy, but that was how it seemed to me-we were the loveliest of friends. And she became an indulgent friend, too, conscious of my sexual needs and fulfilling them in her own way. Like the time she saw me using my hand, the first time she had ever noticed what I was doing to myself down there ...
I was crouched in front of her as usual, leaning over the John and plunging my face between her thighs in a purposeful caress, sweeping the flat of my tongue upward to scrape provocatively across her clitoris. We hadn't been there very long, actually, so the moment wasn't exactly ripe for orgasm, but my itchy flesh was already looking forward to it and I had begun to finger myself almost unconsciously. Then-with a certain bewilderment-I heard her voice from above; was she telling me not to?
So it appeared. Telling me not to and volunteering to do the job herself. I couldn't quite see how, not in that position, nor did it even strike me as necessary, really, but my lips were much too busy to speak out in protest. So I simply obeyed the order about my hand and went on using my mouth with zealous enthusiasm, devoting myself to Zoe's lovable cunt and sensing only vaguely that her body was stirring around on the seat and shifting into a different posture. Only slightly different, though, not enough to infringe upon my concentration, and I licked deep and lapped up the delectably responsive tart-sweet succulence with the utmost of joy, undistracted by whatever else might have been going on.
Then, surprisingly, I felt something touch my leg. That did claim a definite share of my interest finally, and for one intrusive instant of curiosity I tried to examine the baffling situation and reorient myself. But it soon became clear, of course, and I pretty much grasped what was happening when the sole of her bare foot started gliding smoothly up my thigh.
"Kiddo?"
"Ummm ... "
"Do you like that?"
My blissful moan answered her. Like it? I loved it! But I couldn't say so aloud for obvious reasons-my tongue was too deeply and deliriously mired in creamy cunt-flesh, and all I could do was nod my head vigorously and increase the intensity of my sucking mouth. That was answer enough, I figured. Her foot had already reached the end of its glide anyway, pausing now to pry inquisitively at the portals of my suddenly ticklish crotch; I could feel one aggressive toe wriggling into the hair and probing for access.
"Spread for me, baby. Put it in."
"Hmm?"
"My foot. You know. Heist up a little. Come on, open up and let me in, you'll get fucked good that way. Fuck yourself on my foot, just put it in and fuck, fuck, fuck!"
I gasped, inflamed by the lewdly articulated concept. With a slight lift of my torso, I tucked the meddlesome toe underneath me and into the opening. Then, shuddering in exquisite suspense, I began the gradual downward dip and let my weight settle cautiously, degree by gingerly degree. Slowly, ever so slowly! Sidling just a bit, careful to maintain the easiest angle of entry. Until at least half her foot slipped between the lust-lubricated lips of my cunt. Now I had all five toes inside me, five toes dancing and fluttering and slithering around wildly ...
"Come on, kid."
"Mmm?"
"Fuck! On my foot. Up and down. Move your ass!"
That spurred me to action. I jounced heavily, fucking-but still sucking without letup, still up to my ears in cunt. And then the hot whiplash of compulsion struck fiercely, driving me frantic with need, drawing a cry of erotic urgency from my throat even as my insatiable lips sucked greedily on her flesh: "You too! Fuck me with your foot, Zoe, fuck me, fuck me!"
She growled assent and lunged violently, shooting me to a peak of acrobatic frenzy with that one terrible thrust as I jerked and writhed deliriously on the replenishing thickness of her foot in my cunt and thrilled to the orgasmic upheaval of her cunt in my mouth. Each had a glory of its own, both together were glorious beyond belief-and right then and there I realized that no man had ever filled me with such ecstasy. All my past loves seemed pallid by comparison; could I go on thinking of this one as just a friend?
I pondered that later. And for the first time in my life I had nagging suspicions that I had fallen in love. Yes, love. This thing I felt for her, this dependence, this constant need, this fear of displeasing her-if it wasn't love, well, what was it?
Okay, so I was hooked. Zoe had molded me into something I couldn't understand, something she wanted me to be. And now it was too late to become anything else. I belonged to her. More to the point, I wanted to belong to her.
Funny. We had never talked about love and I hadn't given it much thought. Kicks-that was what we were going through. Not love. And now, suddenly, everything was all mixed up and this feeling I had was enough to throw me into a panic. Recognition of Zoe as a lover rather than a friend changed my outlook completely, putting our relationship into fresh perspective. It was hardly a romantic thing, no moonlight, no rose gardens; who could even speak of love in a bathroom? But I saw it as a real affair nonetheless, a genuine and far-reaching love affair.
An affair between two women? There was a name for that, but I simply avoided the issue. I chose the easy way out instead, dabbling to my heart's content but setting up a mental block against the nomenclature. A whore might fall in love with another whore-even on a toilet seat!- but lesbian was taboo, a dirty word. I just couldn't make myself accept such a shameful stigma. And meanwhile, of course, under Zoe's cunning tutelage, I had already passed the point of no return and was even beginning to see roses of romance blossoming within those tiled walls ...
The first actual mention of love between us came about in a pretty weird way. We had been cuddling a little on the bed, not doing much, just playing around, when Zoe jumped up abruptly and went into the bathroom. I scurried after her, eager to do more than just cuddle, eager to get my mouth working on her cunt as soon as she sat Only she wouldn't let me, for some unknown reason, even though I was kneeling in front of her as usual and trying my best to move right in close. So I had to be satisfied just kissing her thighs for a while. Alluring thighs! The skin felt soft and smooth to my lips; licking it with my tongue added fuel to the flame that was already blazing inside me. Until I had to whimper abjectly for permission to caress her in a more intimate manner.
"You're hot, huh, sweetie?" She smiled down at me.
"Hot ... you know ... "
"Glad to hear it. Hey, let's try something different tonight, shall we? Put your finger in your pussy."
"Huh?"
"Come on, do it. Stick your finger in. And then turn your face up toward me. I want to kiss you."
I was accustomed to obeying her by that time, what else was there to do? Besides, the idea sounded rather novel. I dropped one hand down between my legs and tilted my parted lips up for her kiss. It came gently at first and then I damn near swooned as that big tongue of hers began stabbing, practically raping my mouth.
But there was more than just her tongue, I realized after a while, a hell of a lot more. Something I hadn't bargained for. It was a very wet kiss and all the wetness was coming my way. Downward. Flowing, actually, flowing from Zoe's mouth into mine. Spit? It shocked me momentarily. Oh sure, we had swapped spit before-that always happens during a real deep sexy-type kiss-only this time we weren't swapping, oh no, it was strictly one-sided. Especially since I was on my knees to her, at a much lower level, and she was just letting it drain.
And then, right in the middle of that crazy wet kiss, she started murmuring words into my mouth. "Taste me, darling. Taste me, drink me, swallow me ... "
My brain went into a spin, hit by crosscurrents of conflicting emotion. My friend had called me darling-darling!-and in the same wild instant she was doing something terribly mean and dirty to me. Dirty. Only it just didn't feel all that dirty somehow, it tasted kind of sweet and was turning the inside of my mouth sticky and slippery, all hot and gooey-almost the way her cunt got when I was about to suck it. So I simply swallowed what she gave me and was even a bit disappointed when it stopped.
"Darling ... oh, you do love me ... "
"Yesss! I do. I love you."
"Oh, this gets me so excited. Are you still touching yourself down there? Wiggle your finger. Play with your clittie while you drink me some more. But taste my spit before you swallow it-get used to the taste, pretty soon you'll learn to love it, I'll bet. Maybe even beg for it, huh?"
I shuddered as she kissed me again, still assailed by a vague sense of horror. But I remembered our exchange of words, the words of love, our first such words, and my icy shudder turned into a hot tremor of passion as I succumbed to the contagion of her rampant excitement. My flesh came alive all of a sudden, the lips of my cunt, seemed to be sucking avidly on my finger and I could feel the rest of my body throbbing to that same wiggle-rhythm-a sure sign of an orgasm in the making. So soon? Overwhelmed by so much sensuality-and obedient to the end-I swished her saliva around in my mouth and gulped it down happily.
Again her half-stifled voice sounded, almost sentimental now. "Ah, how I love using you like this! Dana, you have no idea what it does to me. Some day I might even ... "
I moaned as the murmur faded. This time I let the spurts of her sweet liquid love-potion accumulate in my mouth, getting used to the taste, learning to love it. Hadn't she said I would? I just hoped there might be another mouthful for me after this one, another precious gift from my beloved. Gift after gift after gift; and wasn't it the greatest of all gifts that she should concern herself with my climax rather than her own?
Chapter 10
Ecstatic as the occasion may have been, I was all too aware of its darkly ominous portent, aware now of Zoe's need to use me, to degrade me, to carry me into the realm of total perversion. And yet there could be no turning back, I knew, regardless of the thousand-and-one doubts that rose to plague me-doubts about myself, mostly, about what I had become. About what I might become. I had never really been in love before, how could I even dream of walking out on her now?
Anyway, the fascination outweighed the fear and I quit trying to guess what the future might bring, relaxing my uneasy mind enough to enjoy the present. Taking care of my dull clients for money and living from date to date with my exciting lover for pleasure. And it wasn't until the night we went to the theater together that I finally had to come to grips with myself. What a night that was, truly a time of crisis!
One of Zoe's old Johns had given her a pair of tickets to a Broadway opening, certainly a generous gift-the guy was one of the backers, apparently. For women like us the opportunity was too good to miss, so we avoided any commercial dates that evening and got all dolled up in our best finery and traipsed off to the theater in style.
Actually the show was an oldie from way back, a nostalgia-type revival of an almost legendary musical comedy, full of clever skits and lyrical songs and lithe-limbed dancers cavorting merrily about the stage. Well-known stuff mostly, especially the music-some of the tunes were now standards in the pop field. Familiar as it all was, though, I saw everything through newly awakened eyes, always conscious of my companion's reaction as much as my own. Even the dancers took on a different aspect, and I found myself watching the near-nude feminine bodies from a sexual viewpoint the same way she did. They were beautiful, the girls up there on the stage bouncing and kicking in orgiastic frenzy, and I couldn't help but wonder how many of them had toyed affectionately with one another during the long months of rehearsal.
But Zoe was beautiful, too, and only her presence really mattered. The showgirls were half-naked 'but remote, all part of a fantasy that was taking place on the other side of the footlights. And my lover was right here next to me, far more impressive than the distant performers even with her clothes on. Besides, there was the perfume she used-its fragrance created an aura of enchantment that surrounded us both and seemed to draw our bodies together like magic.
"Hey ... " She was whispering in my ear. "Remind me to tell you something later. Something pretty important."
"About �he show? Tell me now."
"No, not about the show. Something else." She reached across the armrest and patted my knee. "It's about the old boy who gave me the tickets. I'll tell you at intermission."
The touch of her hand was like a jolt of electricity and the warmth of her breath upon my ear sent shivers racing through me. I kept my face turned resolutely in the direction of the action on the stage, afraid to meet those dark eyes gazing at me, amused eyes, more than likely, twinkling at my spontaneous response; oh, it took so little to light my fire!
When the first-act curtain came down, everybody moved up the aisles in a mass effort to get at least half a cigarette smoked before the show resumed. In the lobby and out on the pavement, they milled around and discussed the performance in guarded tones that expressed only guarded opinions, preferring to wait and let the critics do their thinking for them. Everybody took that course, apparently. Everybody but us. Of all the people there, we were probably the only ones with something more important to talk about and mull over. And for reasons of our own, we spoke in tones even more guarded than the rest.
"A little vacation? Oooh, when? And where?"
"Don't get so steamed up, kid. Yeah, I figured it might appeal to you. A little trip to the mountains, how does that sound? I've been offered the use of a cabin for a week."
"Sounds fine, but tell me more."
"Same guy that gave me the tickets, you know? It's like a standing offer; he asks me every year, every spring. This'll be the first time I'm taking him up on it, though, so you should feel honored. The place is empty now, he doesn't go up there himself till summer-which means we can make quick plans and leave anytime."
"Just the two of us? You're sure he's not including himself in? I wouldn't want to be turning tricks-"
"Private party, honey, just the two of us. Guaranteed. And we won't be roughing it exactly, the cabin is supposed to be pretty comfortable. Sort of a wanky hunting-lodge, originally built by some millionaire. And all ours for a week, not bad, eh?"
"Simply fabulous. My idea of a perfect vacation."
She chuckled slyly, sneaking a little pinch of my bottom. "You might not think so after we're there awhile. The two of us all alone like that, who knows what might happen? I could get on that bossy kick of mine and make you suffer."
"Hah! So what? You know darn well I'll love it. And since when do we have to travel to the mountains for that?"
"You'll see. To really go on the kick, well, we have to be alone and away from the rest of the world. Sure, we're alone in my apartment, but there are neighbors all around and the walls are thin. Up in the mountains there'll be nobody within hearing distance and we can let our hair down."
"Oh ... "
"S'matter? Are you scared? Scared of freaky Zoe?"
"Of course not. Just anxious."
"Come on, kiddo, you should be scared. A little, at least. With nothing to stop me, I might get pretty wild, you know?"
"Wild? Like what?"
"Well ... uh ... " She shook her head, grinning. "Oh shit, why ruin the suspense? Let it be a surprise ... Or even a shock. Let's just say it'll be exciting, huh?"
"Tell me, tell me."
"Nope. You'll just have to wait. Show time, anyway."
The warning buzzer had rasped intermission's end. Along with the crowd, we got rid of our cigarettes and went back inside for the big windup-more songs, more jokes, more chorus cuties. The show was less than a smash hit but still pretty good entertainment, and we were both in high spirits when it ended. Moving up the aisle, Zoe said something about a quick stop in the lounge- "Kid, my back teeth are floating!"-that was how she worded it. Crude but sincere. I told her to let them float until we got home. It would only be a little while, right? She nodded and looked kind of quizzical, but nothing more was said on the subject. Nor was it mentioned in the taxi, either-instead she started talking sexy, purring, whispering in my ear again.
"I've got an itch, honey."
"So scratch it."
"An itchy pussy?"
"You can scratch that too. Just make sure the cabdriver isn't watching the rear-view mirror."
"Thanks a lot. But it's not that kind of itch. You know what my pussy is itching for? I'll tell you. That pretty mouth of yours, that's what."
"As if I didn't know."
"Kid, I'm getting all wet down there just thinking about it. Can't that damn hackie go any faster?"
"Hush. He'll hear you."
"Who cares? The bastard hasn't missed a red light yet. Fine way to treat a poor gal with a cunt-itch."
She went on making crazy remarks like that, stressing her impatience for sex but never once mentioning the bathroom. Nor would she divulge anything more about the mountain vacation either, cutting off my inquiry with a shrug, obviously interested only in getting home in a hurry. And I soon became just as impatient; by the time we reached the apartment I was one steamed-up young lady.
Once inside I. thought Zoe would stop and undress first, but she just loped on ahead into the bathroom, shedding only her outer garment, a light coat. I rather expected her to call me in then, but no, she didn't do that either. That piqued me. But I kept remembering all that sexy chatter in the taxi and became doubly conscious of my own raging passion-and in a matter of moments I had stripped naked and was racing in to join her.
What a sight! It was so strange seeing her sitting there with her clothes on. Her panties had been removed and tossed aside, but other than that she was still completely dressed. High-heeled shoes, nylon hose, garter straps running up the tawny thighs-visible only because the hem of her gown had been rucked high-it seemed almost incongruous that she should be here like that. I had never seen her on the toilet in anything but her bare skin. My own nakedness even became a source, of embarrassment to me.
But that vanished quickly as I took a few steps toward her and felt my limbs go weak. I slumped to my knees and crawled the rest of the way. Her thighs were spread only a few inches, turning the crotch area into a soft shadow, a mystery, an enticing mystery that I simply had to explore. Everything else was so sharply defined under the bright light, making that shadowy place even more seductive, and I just couldn't hold back any longer. I humped over the toilet seat, wriggling and inching forward eagerly as her legs widened and the silver-blond bush came into view.
"Kiddo?"
"You-you didn't call me."
"I know. Only because I couldn't wait any-"
"All that sexy talk in the taxicab made me so hot! I can't wait either, I've got to suck your cunt."
"Dana, no, you'd better not."
But I was already bending low and sobbing my need, a sob that met its own hollow echo somewhere on the downward arc of my head. And then the touch of my lips upon flesh brought another sob hers this time, dispelling my every last shred of caution and inspiring me with impossible courage.
"Oh hell, I was going to save this for our vacation. But if we're going to do it, let's do it right! Open your mouth. Wide. Open your mouth and suck, baby, suck like you've never sucked before. Come on. Now! Suck my cunt!"
I did it. Blindly. Panting for breath, I obeyed her and dove headlong into depravity. But not so blindly that I didn't know what was coming. It was depraved, all right, depraved and degenerate and unspeakably exciting, a madness with no name, exciting enough to make the mind strain for sanity, exciting enough to bring my deeply buried long-delayed climax to the surface. Just thinking about it, just knowing ...
"Hey! Kid? Don't cop out, you hear me?"
She didn't have to say that. Especially with her fingers snarled in my hair like a set of claws, a grip too powerful to break even if I had wanted to. But she was still talking up there, way up above me, and I strained to catch the words. All garbled. But all on one subject, one specific subject-and with more excitement than I had ever dreamed possible. Excitement for both of us, driving me crazy as I sloshed my face around inside her cunt. I didn't even notice whether her hands were still hanging on, it scarcely mattered any more, oh no, we were both feverish with some sickness beyond comprehension, both sharing this secret desire of hers, both sharing and loving the same thing. And yet how could a sickness give me such a thrill?
But a thrill it was, of course, unique and indescribable, and even in my delirium I felt myself yielding to what could only have been my preordained destiny. I was in love with this woman and always would be. From here to eternity. And if that kind of love labeled me lesbian, so be it!
Chapter 11
A holiday in the mountains with my loved one; oh, it was just too good to be true! I wanted to pinch myself to see if it wasn't a dream. But getting a car had been no problem and we were on the way at last-I finally believed it as we left the smog and noise of the city behind.
The rental agency had given us a Chevrolet, practically new, and it hummed along nicely, clicking off the mileage. Zoe was a capable driver, evidently, and she held a steady rate of speed as we spiraled upward into the mountains. I found her fascinating to look at-that exotic face, the slitted dark eyes peering through the windshield. Big breasts rising and falling with every breath. And the beautiful tawny legs so alluringly exposed, the skirt rucked up to mid-thigh to give her freedom to work the pedals. No stockings. Even angled under a dashboard, those sleek-muscled bare limbs were pure poetry.
My fingers itched, my mouth was strangely dry-and I couldn't stave off the urge to touch what my gaze had been devouring. Tentatively, almost fearfully, I let my hand dangle and then sink upon the denuded surface of a thigh. Her skin was soft and velvety to my fingertips.
"Hey!" The car swerved suddenly.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Just took me by surprise, that was all. No harm done. Kid? You feeling sexy already?"
"Uh-huh. Don't I always?"
"My eager little beaver. First chance we get, I'll have to do something about that, huh? And meanwhile, what the hell, go ahead and sneak a feel if you like."
"I-I wouldn't want to cause a crackup. You're sure it won't interfere with your driving?"
"It's okay. Might even make the trip more interesting. Long as you don't sneak up on me."
"Sorry about that, I was tempted by your gorgeous gams." My fingers tingled to the caress of smooth thigh-flesh. "I can resist anything but temptation."
She chuckled, wriggling momentarily and then dropping one hand from the wheel to catch my wrist and guide me into the intimate warmth of her body. "Here. Is this temptation enough?"
I sighed rapturously, already beyond any need for guidance, glad to be on my own as she resumed steering with both hands. My busy forefinger probed beneath her panties and must have touched the right spot even in that difficult position, encountering a dryness that turned moist almost immediately. The response aroused me even more, a sign that I was pleasing my beloved, and wasn't all such pleasure as much mine as hers?
Traffic became noticeably heavier as we neared a town, though, and I had to give up my delectable pursuit. Then, as the population thinned out on the other side, she glanced at the gas gauge and muttered a small oath. "Getting pretty low. I guess we should have stopped back there. Watch for a station, huh?"
The stretch of road remained quite desolate for a long distance, but at last a gasoline signpost hovered into view. She slowed down and pulled in, rolling to a halt alongside the pump. The attendant, a hulking young lout in grease-stained coveralls, ambled over lethargically and came to life only after a closer look at us, his beady eyes popping at the sight of two such beautiful customers.
"Fill it up," Zoe told him. "Check the oil and water and do a job on the windshield, will you?" She pushed the door open and got out, beckoning to me. "Come on. We'd better do some quick nose-powdering."
I followed her, happy to be able to work the circulation back into my legs. We entered the tiny restroom together. Windowless and poorly ventilated, it was nearly as squalid as the station operator himself. I shuddered, mildly repelled by the grimy cement walls and floor of the place.
"Lock the door, kid."
"Uh-huh."
"Remember what I said back there on the road?"
"Hmm? No ... "
"First chance we get. Remember?"
Realization struck. "Oh! You mean now? Here?"
"Damn right."
"But-but it's so filthy."
"Yeah. Ain't it?"
The obvious sarcasm made me shudder again. She seemed almost elated, actually; her nostrils were flared and her respiration had become audibly erratic. In the glow from the naked light bulb, her half-lidded eyes sparkled with excitement. As if the dirt, the grime, the very ugliness of the atmosphere was stimulating to her.
"Dana? You were mighty anxious back there." She stripped her panties off and plunked herself down on the toilet. "Well, let's just see how anxious you are."
From outside, I could hear the attendant manning his pumps, whistling some indistinct tune. But here in this cramped little cubbyhole there was only the sound of hoarse breathing. Zoe's breathing? My own? The collective noise wheezed and whooshed like a river going over the brink of a waterfall.
She didn't move, just sitting there like that, her bare legs lewdly asunder. But her gaze, hot and sexy and terribly imperious, told me that she would brook no refusal. And slowly, as if those blazing eyes, were sapping my strength, I felt my knees give way and hit the floor with a thud.
"First chance, kid. Yeah ..." She tugged my head close. "I've been waiting for this, you know?"
The cement was hard and scratchy under my kneecaps. But the silk-smooth flesh was soft. Soft and deliciously scented. I tried to forget where we were, concentrating only on the thrill of those cunt-lips opening to the pressure Of my face. Serving her, I felt like an abject slave, more and more aware of my devotion, more and more aware of her seemingly infinite power over me.
"Yeah. Waiting for thisss ... "
I gasped. And like a cowed and conquered slave-girl, I offered myself up to the demanding requirements of my goddess. Suddenly the little room was no longer ugly somehow, it was a bower, a beautiful love-nest-warm and damp with the moisture of gentle rain and softly settling dew.
Back in the car a few moments later, we sat quietly while the attendant brought our change. The beady eyes glittered as he counted it out-as if he would have gladly sacrificed the money for the privilege of getting to know his spectacular customers on a more intimate basis. Even as we rolled away he stood there, hands on hips, peering after us lecherously, a rather dirty young man with obvious dirty-old-man ideas.
"Ugh! What a creep."
Zoe laughed. "If he only knew. If the poor stupid slob only knew ... "
The car sped onward, eating up the miles. But the short stop and its unique interlude in the restroom had depleted me somewhat, and I curled up in the corner of the seat and shut my eyes. I was quite calm now, my nerves had stopped fluttering in frustration, my body felt blissfully limp and languid. In her own inimitable way, my beloved friend had seen to that.
"Sleepy, kid?"
"Just a bit."
"We don't have much farther to go. But take a little nap if you feel like it."
"You won't mind?"
"It's all right, I'm wide awake, no need to stay up on my account. As a matter of fact, I feel fine. That little session at the gas station was just what I needed. Grab yourself a snooze, honey, you've earned it."
"Thanks. But wake me if you get lonesome."
"Hush. Just go to sleep."
I sighed, nestling deeper into the cushions. And lulled by the whirring wheels, I dozed off in sweet contentment. But it couldn't have been for very long, and my eyes flickered open as the car began to whine, jouncing me upright as we made slow progress over a bumpy unpaved road. A lane, really, a narrow passage through the woods; overhanging branches snapped at the windshield and brushed across the metal roof. And then, almost miraculously, the going got smoother and a small clearing opened up in front of us.
"Dana? Oh, you're awake."
"Uh-huh. Is this it?"
"Sure is. Unless the old boy's directions were wrong. See it over there, the lodge?"
I spotted it then, practically camouflaged, a solid split-level cabin tucked snugly into the angle between two perpendicular cliffs. So beautiful it took my breath away! Even in some dilapidated shack our mountain holiday would have been great-the seclusion alone was enough-but in a place like this ...
"Kind of nice, huh? Just the two of us. Kiss your ass goodbye, kid, it belongs to me now. You're all mine, baby doll, mine for one whole week."
"All yours."
"And nobody around for miles in case you get panicky and want to holler for help*"
"Who's hollering?"
"You'll see."
"Oh sure. Promises, promises."
She cut the engine. "You'll see. No hurry, though-let's relax awhile before we unload and get settled. Enjoy your last bit of freedom, darling."
That brief nap had restored my vitality, filling me to the brim with brand-new energy. Relaxation was impossible. And so was enjoyment-unless I could put all that energy to use, good use, the best use, the only use; what better use than this?
"Hey, what's with you?"
"Let me, let me. Let me enjoy my freedom."
"Hot for Zoe's cunt, eh? Sexy little slut! Go ahead then, suck me off, take advantage of my good nature. But don't get upset if I act preoccupied, I've got something to think about."
"Oh? Something more important than me?"
"Silly girl. It's you I'm thinking of. You and me out here in the wilderness; I'm searching my mind for ideas, you know? Ideas about what we'll do together. But that shouldn't stop you, kiddo, I don't think with my cunt now, do I?"
I kissed her thighs. Flesh. Tawny and smooth. Flesh unfolding lazily under my lips, yielding to my urgency. After a while getting an urgency of its own, I could tell, writhing and pulsating in need of fulfillment, not quite so lazy any more.
"Mmm ... " Interspersed with moans of pleasure, her words were vaguely intelligible. "Little cuntlapper. So good ... "
Highly flattering, those words. More of a command than a compliment, though, a command accompanied by flailing legs and eager hips and a meaningful thrust of her pelvis. A command that I obeyed rapturously, succumbing to the spurring pressures from without and the unquenchable craving from within. I browsed among the silken tendrils, adoring the secret softness in a complexity of gladly given caresses. My face nuzzled deep and sank into the consuming chasm of her cunt, deep into the vortex, the center of her ecstasy, the center of mine ...
"Darling? A week. One long week. Just the two of us. Oh, the things I'm going to make you do!"
Even then-at the peak of her passion-she was still thinking about it. Making plans. Plans for me! I was gripped by a thrill of anticipation then, a thrill that clutched at my body fiendishly and turned my affectionate lovemaking into a kind of worship. For the second time today, the worship of a slave for a goddess. As if my moment of freedom was already over.
Chapter 12
Zoe had called it a millionaire's hunting lodge, but the place surpassed even that description. Palace was more like it, a split-level palace in the woods-and regardless of the sylvan location and the racks of guns, it sure hadn't been designed for hunting. At least not the type of hunting that pits man against animal. Business tycoon against showgirl maybe; anyway, it was a place for the big money boys to bring their doxies and spend a wild weekend away from their dull wives.
The lodge was set up for it. Sumptuous as a city duplex, it had everything-including the best of modern plumbing-plus the added advantage of seclusion. There was even electricity, surprisingly enough, powered by a generator (with a full set of instructions on its operation) that was serviced and maintained by a man from the nearest town. All in all, the palatial cabin was just about perfect for a vacation; who could ask for anything more?
We unloaded the car, adding our just-purchased supplies to the already well-stocked larder. There was probably enough food and booze to last till doomsday. Together, we would be snug as a couple of bugs in a rug. The only thing missing was a retinue of servants to wait on us hand and foot.
But servants weren't exactly necessary, not as far as Zoe was concerned. After all, she had me. I figured I'd be playing butler and maid all rolled into one. And footstool, too, if such was her whim. No, my friend wasn't going to lack for service. Not as long as I was around to fetch and carry for her.
She showed no sign of it, though. It was almost as if she had forgotten her dominant role. Even while emptying the car and storing the supplies, she had lent a hand cheerfully, doing as much work as I did. I wouldn't have been surprised or displeased if she had ordered me to do the job alone. I had rather expected her to, really, considering the peculiar cast of our relationship. But she had aided with the unloading and then continued in the same pleasant vein as we cooked and ate our first meal. I did insist on doing the dishes, though, refusing to allow those nice hands of hers to get involved in such a menial task.
Actually, her nonchalant behavior was beginning to upset me a little. My idol simply made no demands; what happened to all those plans she had pondered? Promises, promises. True, we had only just gotten settled in our plush hideaway, but I was growing pretty darn impatient for something to break. Impatient enough to seize the first opportunity that arose-and I marched in to help her as she lay soaking in the bathtub. That was one thing I could do for her without overstepping any bounds or usurping authority; a little maid-type pampering? Of course.
I had already grabbed a quick shower myself, deliberately bypassing any clothing afterward. Not even a robe. And I hoped she would take my all-too-obvious hint. Stark naked, I stood there and held a towel ready for her.
"Oh?" Her face lit up. "Don't you think I can do that without any help, honey?"
"Let me. Please?"
"You're anxious, hmm?"
"You know. I want to do everything for you."
Her eyes sparkled. "Well, if it's that important ... " Leaning on my arm, she rose and stepped out of the tub onto the bathmat.
I caught my breath, struck with awe at the sight of all that voluptuously contoured flesh. As often as I had seen her nude body, it still sent shivers up and down my spine. Only now it was more appealing than ever. Foam clung here and there haphazardly, glistening in white patterns upon the tawny surface; I almost hated to wipe the twinkly stuff away. It looked like a powdering of tiny pearls.
But that was my duty now, my self-imposed duty, and I ran the towel over the damp softness, patting lightly, delicately, as if her skin was too precious for anything less gentle. The peaks of her big breasts firmed to my touch, an indication that I was on the right track. My beloved was responding. I felt an excruciating urge to drop the towel and use only my hands. But it was too soon for that, much too soon, and I had to keep the nappy fabric between me and all that alluring femininity.
I knelt and dried her feet carefully and with painstaking precision, terribly conscious of the thrill I found in my own humility. Then the ankles and calves. The captivating thighs that I had borne so often like a yoke around my neck. Oh, how I wanted that delicious yoke again!
But there was more work to be done. Still on my knees, I moved around to lavish attentive service upon the big delectably domed buttocks, wishing it was my mouth that I was using and not the bath towel. The dimpled flesh was utterly ravishing.
"Kid."
"Mmm?"
"Go get my purse. The black one. I guess it's on the bureau in the bedroom."
I scurried off, disappointed to part with all that exciting nude beauty, but too obedient to put up any protest. Although I did think it somewhat callous of her to interrupt my labors just to bring her the cigarettes or whatever it was she needed from her purse. Especially since I had figured she was just about on the verge of accepting her dominant role.
On the verge?
Oh shit, I should have known better. The verge was past and she had gone beyond that stage. In everything, Zoe was always at least one step ahead of me.
She dug into the purse. "Yes, here it is, a little present I got for you. Hold out your hands."
Somewhat mystified, I complied. The thing she pulled from her purse startled me. It looked like a chain of some sort. Not until I heard the metallic clink and the sharp click-click did I realize what it was. But by then it was too late, my wrists were already in its double grip.
"Hey, what's-"
"Hush. Hold still, honey, I want to check the fit. Yeah. Fine. Just about perfect. Could have been custom made for you. It doesn't hurt, does it?"
I examined the gadget. A silver chain with two wide bracelets linked to the ends, the bracelets now firmly locked around my wrists. Like a set of handcuffs but less constricting than the usual police variety. The chain was long enough to allow freedom of movement, but it put me into definite bondage nonetheless.
"N-no. It-it doesn't hurt."
"It sure as hell shouldn't. You have no idea what a thing like this costs. Believe me, it was hard to find."
"Uh, is there a key? The locks look too strong to break. You do have one, I hope."
"You're worried about that, eh?" She chuckled. "Can't say as I blame you. But you'll just have to go on worrying, I'm afraid. It'll be a week before you find out."
"A-aweek?"
"That's all I'm going to tell you, kiddo. We won't discuss it any further."
"But-but I can't wear this thing for-"
"Quit griping. And get back to work." She foraged among the jars and bottles in the wall-shelves and came up with a perfume atomizer. "Here. You might as well do this too. I like to smell good for my baby-doll."
I recalled the last time I had used an atomizer on her; she had a penchant for perfume, sure enough. But now I had a task to do-and with the chain linking my wrists, I pressed the rubber bulb and started. In a half-crouch, I circled her body slowly, the cloud of scent making my head spin.
"Mmm, nice. Spray me all over. You know how."
All but overwhelmed, I obeyed mutely. The perfume tickled my nose. There was intoxication in it, misting my brain and diminishing my ability to reason. The bracelets and chain were weighty, and yet I was already growing accustomed to them. As if they belonged right there, a symbol of my lowly status.
But for a whole week? Apparently that was what she intended; it was her way of demonstrating her power over me. Demonstrating it physically, tangibly, as well as psychologically. My week of slavery had truly begun. Hmm. Slavery? Yes indeed, what else was I but a love-slave? In her own unique manner, my all-powerful conqueror was actually showing her love for me. And as far as I was concerned, her wishes were paramount. Her desires-whatever they might be-were all that really mattered. Nothing else. With total obedience, I too would be showing my love. By doing only what I was told to do. This, at the moment. The perfume spray. Soon it would be something different. Something even nasty and degrading, perhaps; who could tell what was on that devious mind of hers?
Then again it might be something nice. Maybe she would relent and lead me out of the bathroom and to the bed. Where I could make love to her. Where I could bestow upon her body the adoration that made me tingle just thinking about it.
But she gave no indication of going anywhere. The queer expression on her face didn't explain anything either. That odd twist of her lips. The glitter in her eyes. I got the impression that it might be a long time before we reached the bed. Maybe we wouldn't get there at all.
I was on my knees now, my temples throbbing almost painfully; oh, it was maddening to be so close and still keep my distance. Then, considerately, she plucked the atomizer from my hand and put it back on the shelf, uttering the command I had waited to hear-and at last I was permitted a certain self-indulgence.
The coral cunt-lips peeped from within her silver-blond fluff, a vividly erotic picture. I moved my face to it, the flesh now drenched in perfume and yet exuding a musky and seductive tang of its own. I kept sniffing it even as my taste buds came alive, sniffing and kissing at the same time. Avidly. But always with care, the utmost of care; it was important that I do it well. More important than anything else in the whole wide world! I parted those silk-fringed lips lovingly, tenderly, and gave the scented moistness a thousand impassioned kisses, affectionate little pecks at first and then ever-deepening caresses as my mouth opened and my tongue sought to perform its most intimate service. While she stood there like a tyrant, a beautiful tyrant, and accepted my homage as her rightful due, like a queen taking tribute from a humble subject.
No, not a queen. More than that. Greater. In this democratic day and age, queens are mere showpieces adding some pomp and pageantry to the daily lives of their compatriots. Zoe was far superior. And hadn't I already chosen her title?
Goddess!
Ah yes, that was it, a goddess. And the poor fawning creature at her feet, the once independent Dana Thorpe, could only be the goddess' slave. For who but a slave could feel like this? Did the thing called Dana Thorpe even exist for any purpose other than to please her goddess?
"Darling ... darling ... "
"Mmm?"
"Oh, I love your mouth."
"Ummmm ... "
"And this is only the beginning. I told you it might get pretty wild, remember? I could easily become a bitch, a vicious bitch. Will you hate me if that happens?" She grabbed my hair and pulled my face out of its comfortable nest. "Will you? I want a truthful answer. Before we go any further. Will you still love me when I'm acting like a mean old bitch?"
Wide-eyed and worshipful, I peered up at her, tawny and towering in that tiny room, arrogant and demanding and absolutely magnificent! And I had to say it. All of it. Not just what she wanted to hear-that was simple-but what I wanted her to hear. That wasn't so simple. But it was all welling up inside me and I had to say it aloud. All of it.
"I love you, I love you, I'll always love you." The words spilled out crazily. "If you're a bitch, you're also a goddess. A bitch-goddess! And I love you and I'm your slave and I'll keep on loving you no matter-"
"Dana!" Then, softly, "Darling, do you realize what you just said? You called me a goddess. Do you really mean that?"
"I do, I do. You're a goddess. My beautiful goddess ... "
"Yes."
Just that one word. Yes. And we both knew what it signified. Only she must have understood it more thoroughly; the idea was vague to me even though I had voiced it first. Certainly I didn't expect her to pick up the threads and weave them into a permanent emotional tapestry. But that was exactly what she did, and a white-hot thrill streaked through my body, spurring me to instant compliance as I heard her next command:
"Lick my feet, slave."
Humbling myself, I went into the lowest of low crouches as my mouth brushed one bare foot and then the other, pretty feet, smooth and unblemished. But I couldn't stop to admire them, oh no, her toes were wriggling, prying my lips apart forcefully, and in a haze of sweet subservience I strived to please my goddess, sucking each toe and laving between them with my tongue.
"I like that. You'll be doing it often."
"Ummm."
"Enough for now, though."
"Hmm?"
"Like I said, this is only the beginning. Look up now. I need you for something else. Over here. Come! Zoe needs you."
She took a step and I didn't quite grasp her meaning. But she let me know soon enough, gripping the chain in one hand and dragging me along the floor. The bracelets pinched and I skinned my knees keeping up with her. And when she finally reached the toilet and sat herself down, I was glad to stop and catch my breath.
As it turned out, that was essential. My breath. Because a moment or two later I had to struggle to keep from smothering. Or drowning. Not that I struggled very hard, at least not against my beloved goddess. No, my only struggle was for a gasp of air now and then so that I might stay alive and in good health and be of use to her. I couldn't afford to get sick; what kind of service could a sick slave offer? My goddess needed me. She would be needing me for the rest of the week. For many things. For this. For her pleasure, her perverse pleasure, ah yes, this! And with my wrists chained and my blood churning feverishly, I died a thousand delicious deaths and wondered how a dream could seem so real ...
Chapter 13
Slowly, languorously, I opened my eyes. The room lay in shadow, but there was more than a hint of sunlight coming through the drawn blinds; night had fled and the day was here. Lying beside me, Zoe slept peacefully, her naked body exposed by the twisted bedsheet, limbs loose and spread wide. As if that ripe flesh insisted on demonstrating its receptiveness even in repose.
A surge of need tugged at my loins. Need for my beloved. My goddess. Heart thumping, I slipped down to the foot of the bed, maneuvering easily despite the chain on my wrists, the emblem of my bondage; how quickly I had grown accustomed to it! Aflame with desire, I bent low and kissed her feet, gently touching each pearly nailed toe with my moistened lips. The sudden thrill was overwhelming, all the more so because of its endless nuances, a thrill of submission, of self-abasement, the strange but all-too-familiar sensation that had numbed my will and turned me into a humble slave. Even in the depths of slumber, this woman had me under her spell. As if we were linked together by some invisible but unbreakable chain, far stronger than this symbolic silver trinket adorning my wrists. Was it a kind of witchcraft?
Zoe's feet were soft. And perfumed, of course, always immaculate, always kissable; it was practically a fetish with her-she might sully my mouth in other ways, never this! I licked them with a leisurely tongue, savoring our initial contact of the day. The skin of her ankles gave me a new texture to appraise and I lingered there too before gliding upward, eventually lavishing affection over the length of each solid but shapely limb. And by the same token, eventually running out of territory to explore. Except for the one place that defied inspection and/or analysis, the place that was neither solid nor shapely and yet somehow never failed to win all the popularity honors.
Cunt ...
I had nowhere else to go and could no longer hold myself in check. Luckily, though, I didn't have to, the veil of sleep had been lifted by my soft kisses; she was awake now, awake and sexually aroused. A moan sounded from somewhere in the distance. Her quivering thighs became an invitation to rapture, an invitation that I accepted instantaneously, persuaded in part by the clutch of fingers in my hair. Not that I needed much persuasion! The distant moan had swelled to a wail now, almost a screech of desperation; what more incentive did a slave girl need?
Inflamed by the sudden magnitude of her response, I gave her my love, all my love-wordlessly I gave tongue to all the emotion bottled up inside me, praying that my hopefully skilled homage might be at least adequate to the task of elevating this awakened goddess to a peak of exaltation. Which was all I cared about at the moment. My own orgasm was no longer important, oddly enough, nor had it been for quite some time now; she seldom showed much interest in that direction any more. Not since the night of the Broadway opening, in fact-and our own personal premiere performance afterward!-apparently a turning point in our lives. I didn't mind, really, having learned to accept her domination, her fate-ordained authority over me. Especially since I didn't just accept it, I reveled in it. This was my place. Here. Now. Sucking her cunt. For that matter, even doing it in the comfort of a bed was a bit of a luxury. I belonged on the floor kneeling before her voluptuous body like a slave. Worshiping. Worshiping her cunt. Or her ass. Or whatever. Whatever pleased my goddess. And even when she did caress me, it was for her own enjoyment rather than mine. Selfish. And how I adored her for it!
She was rearing up now, a caress of sorts, caressing my face with her cunt, smearing the hot wet flesh over my chin and cheeks, gorging me with great hairy mouthfuls. Everything reeked of sex down there between her legs, thick, heavy, suffocating-unbelievably erotic!-enveloping me in a world of total sensuality. Fogging my mind with fleshly lusts, leaving just barely enough sense to recognize the signs of success, my goal, the exaltation of my goddess. Glorious! Her body went into a violent contraction, her thighs closing in on me, crushing my skull. The pain became unbearable. I uttered a silent scream. But there was a far worse pain now, the one I had neglected so long, the agony of my own sexual frustration. And this time the demand brooked no denial; instinctively my hand scooted down on its errand of mercy, intent on plugging the grievous gash and ending all that misery. Only to be stopped short by the chain, that damned silver chain!
The handful of solace never got there. Instead, my excited flesh went out of control, the restrained urgency bursting through and shattering all precedent. A thrill coursed the length of my spine. Something exploded in my head. Instantly it was followed by another blast lower down in my body, and I wondered why it didn't blow up the whole cabin and set the surrounding forest ablaze. After that one, anything less had to be an anticlimax ...
I lay there stunned, feeling but not quite believing; was an orgasm like that even possible? It was new to me, new in concept even, a climax with no physical contact, imagine! No physical contact where it really counted, my clitoris, my cunt, and I hadn't even been rubbing my thighs together. Untouched, strictly untouched. I must have swallowed hers and made it mine, one great big orgasm for the both of us. Would wonders never cease?
Anyway, I had certainly succeeded in pleasing her. The fingers in my hair had relaxed and softened considerably, they stroked and smoothed and seemed to be thanking me. Complimenting me on my prowess. Telling me that I had done no wrong by coaxing her out of sleep like that. At least I Hoped so!
Then, a whisper, "Darling ... "
"Hmm?"
"That was lovely."
I sat up, smiling. "Glad you liked it."
"So weird waking up that way, you know? I must have been in the middle of a dream. Only the dream started coming to life and then I couldn't really tell, I just couldn't figure out if it was a dream or not."
"And was it?"
"Silly. Of course not. It was you."
"Uh-huh. Then you don't mind my waking you up?"
"I loved it. Only it sure felt funny inside, I mean your doing that to me before I'd even been up to go to the bathroom. Especially after the booze last night ... " She laughed, a girlish giggle almost. "Next time, who can tell what might happen? After all, a girl isn't responsible for something like that when she's asleep, is she?"
I shook my head, feeling a tiny surge of embarrassment. An embarrassment that somehow wasn't at all unpleasant. "Next time I'd better wake you up first, I suppose."
"Well ... " She giggled again, sitting up and stretching. "Which reminds me. I still haven't powdered my nose. Or brushed my teeth. See you in awhile, kid." Out of bed now, she glided off toward the bathroom, her naked backside swaying and wobbling sinuously with every step.
It was a beautiful sight, one that I missed the instant she vanished from view. I stretched in catlike contentment, still deliciously limp from that unexpected orgasm. A sense of gratitude pervaded my mind; suddenly I felt a need to be close to her, to let her know how much she meant tome.
The impulse burgeoned, putting an end to my lassitude, shooting new verve into my drained body. I slipped from the bed and followed her. The bathroom door was ajar and I could hear the sound of the toothbrush scrubbing her teeth. I peeped in and was immediately inspired by the entrancing vision, the tawny skin rippling, the heavy haunches jouncing and jiggling provocatively in rhythm with the rasp of the toothbrush bristles.
Maintaining my silence, I pushed the door open and padded in, feasting my eyes for a long moment and at last sinking to my knees to offer tender tribute. Not sexy, really, just grateful, overflowing with sentiment, looking for some way to communicate my emotional fervor. The touch of my lips brought a spontaneous stiffening, a start of surprise, then the taut muscles relaxed as she glanced back over her shoulder and spoke through a froth of toothpaste.
"Hey now, what's this all about?"
"I-I'm just thanking you."
"Thanking me? What for?"
"Oh, for everything. For just being Zoe.' "r "
"Huh?"
"For this nice vacation. For being so good to me. How can I say it? Let me just show you ... mmm ... "
She went back to brushing her teeth again and my lips tingled to the novelty of kissing her like that, pursuing the curved flesh as it vibrated to the activity of her arm. I caressed her with a certain delicacy-little dalliances, tongue-taps, kisses in volatile flurries-more artistic than amorous, still quite immersed in my mood of sweet rapport. After a while I opened my mouth upon the dimpled crown of one cheek, sucking it in and daubing the surface with my tongue at the same time. She seemed to react favorably to that, jutting her bottom at me for more, and I gave her a similar suck-kiss on the other side, skipping over the in-between valley to get there.
My playful blandishments pleased her, apparently, and I kept going back and forth that way, returning to each soft bulge with mildly increasing warmth. Until, pretty much out of simple curiosity, I nuzzled into the middle for a tiny taste, licking up through the crack with the tip of my tongue. The flesh quivered noticeably and I was glad to repeat the daintily swabbing caress; I was beginning to feel a bit quivery myself.
But the rhythmic jiggle had stopped now and I heard her up there, rinsing out her mouth and putting the toothbrush away. She swung around from the sink and smiled down at me. And with a gleeful little chortle she stepped into my embrace, lifting her legs over the chain one by one and winding up inside the locked circle of my arms. With her cunt right in front of my face, of course, the cunt I adored, its silver-blond tuft of hair still damp and matted from my lovemaking on the bed.
"Kid? Still wanna thank me?"
"Uh-huh."
"Good girl ... " Then, with a squirming motion that found my open mouth and just as abruptly withdrew from it, "Wait. Hold it right there. Don't move."
I didn't understand. And then I did. So freaky! But what else could I expect from such a capricious goddess? The bizarre notion struck a responsive chord in me, spreading a sudden heat over my skin, an undeniably glow of excitement. So soon? It was nothing short of miraculous.
"Oh, that sexy mouth of yours! Darling ... " A tremor passed through her body. "Yeah! Ah ... yesss ... "
Chapter 14
There was only a dim light in the living room, but I gasped at my reflection in the huge mirror. My cheeks grew hot and I scurried to the kitchen, teetering a little in the silly shoes. They were too tight and the heels ridiculously high, making my ankles wobble with every step.
But there wasn't time to fret about it, I had to fix a pot of coffee and get right back up to the bedroom. It was a strange hour of the night to be puttering around in the kitchen, but who could deny a goddess her whim? Besides, coffee was a stimulant and maybe she would gain energy to go on awhile longer. I sure didn't feel very sleepy myself.
I set the electric percolator up and turned it on. Then, impulsively, I went back into the living room. The coffee would take a few minutes and I simply couldn't resist the temptation of that mirror, the largest in the cabin.
Quite a picture! Zoe had found the kinky shoes in the clutter of one of the closets, doubtless a souvenir of some business tycoon's kinky girlfriend. The heels were high, all right, no wonder I had trouble maneuvering around in the darn things. Especially after going barefoot so much all this time. But it wasn't the shoes that had me blushing, it was the rest of the outfit. The jaunty little white apron tied with a big frilly bow in the back. The tiny matching cap perched smartly on my head. Both items imported, brought along just for me, obviously-same as the silver bracelets and chain still linking my wrists-oh shit, she had certainly made plans and preparations for this crazy holiday of ours. Some goddess! A goddess with the fiendish whimsy of a devil?
Only she wasn't exactly playing "goddess" tonight, just a lazy pampered-type mistress enjoying the services of her indulgent maid. Coffee in bed, for instance-a spur-of-the-moment fancy- that kind of service, consistent with the theme of my costume. And the other kind too, naturally-just as consistent in its own way!-sexy service from a most sexy-looking maid.
Oh yes, I was sure sexy-looking in the cap and apron, more so than in the nude, oddly enough. The heavy makeup was impressive, too, even if I could still see the pink tinge of my cheeks underneath it. The tinge of blushing innocence! Dressed like that, how could I help but blush? Even my young body seemed extra voluptuous somehow, the lace edges of the apron calling attention to the silhouetted outline of my womanly waist and hips. And at the same time focusing conversely on my middle, of course, advertising the unseen and making it larger than life-CUNT-as though I needed the publicity. With my naked tits just above, the rouged nipples lewdly exaggerated. And those damn shoes, the kinky stiletto heels throwing my weight forward and forcing me to stick out my belly just to keep from toppling over. Sexy? Only the white cap remained comparatively chaste, a symbol of my more practical line of service. But if ever a servant girl looked like a slut ...
Hmm. Funny thing. Despite the unmistakable blush, my embarrassment had to be just a wee bit coy. Under my skin there wasn't that much difference I felt sexy as ever. Didn't I always feel sexy these days? My mind was suffused with it. Not any kind of sex, just sex in terms of Zoe. The cabin had become a world all our own, a world for just the two of us, and I saw that private little world-just as I could see myself in the mirror-through a mist of desire. Everything in my daily existence had taken on a veiled aspect of sensuality. It was torture of a sort, no doubt, since it went on almost unremittingly, relentlessly-but ah, what delicious torture! With the thrills coming thick and fast, the thrill of each night surpassed only by the thrill of the next. Torture?
And there were the days, too, provided we didn't sleep the sun away. Yet for nocturnal creatures like us, only darkness brought a resurgence of that all-but-timeless ecstasy. Unendurable pleasure infinitely prolonged. The nights! The rapture of flesh upon soft flesh. The whispered entreaties and throaty commands. The sorcery. The enchantment. The perfume, the passion, the delirious whirling of my love-saturated brain. Love, love, love! And such a fantastic kind of love, beautiful and yet barbaric-with no end to the complexity of her indescribable ideas, no bottom to the wellspring of her erotic inspiration.
Admittedly, it wasn't the kind of love that thrived on music and candlelight and contemplation of a rosy future. At times the future seemed dark and fierce and foreboding-and terribly insecure. Intentionally or not, she was molding me into something I had never been before. And doing it with remarkable success. Teaching me, training me, making me learn without my even knowing it. And I did learn. Oh yes, how I learned!-every whim, every caprice, every mercurial change of mood-I was learning to satisfy them all. I had learned how to beg, too; hadn't she told me I would? Like those wet kisses draining from her mouth! The indignity didn't matter anymore, it was the feeling . that counted, the feeling of submission, the intoxicating sensation of being a nonentity, a thing, a tool designed for her pleasure. I had lost all fear of what she might want next. Well, almost. What else would she have me begging for? Where does masochism end and madness begin?
In the bathroom?
Damn! I was blushing again, getting red under the thick coat of makeup. Not that I needed any mirror image to inform me of it. Blushing like a schoolgirl, imagine-more of that coy pretense of innocence? But just thinking about her like that, naked, using me, using my mouth, treating me like some kind of captive slave, was enough to make my cheeks turn hot with shame. No, not shame, really, at least not that alone-or I wouldn't be recalling it with such an exquisite pang of excitement. Lustful shame, maybe. After all, I had kissed the very heel she crushed me under; wasn't it about time I learned to take the barbaric along with the beautiful? My love-goddess and bitch-goddess were one and the same. Nothing she could do would ever offend me again.
Uh-huh. About time for the coffee now, too. Mustn't keep her waiting even one minute longer than necessary; what if she got tired and drifted off to sleep? A horrifying thought. I raced back to the kitchen and got everything organized on the tray. Then, after a hasty check of my apron, front and rear, the frilly bow tight and the ends dangling over my shapely ass just right-vain little slut!-I took the tray up, jutting my belly-button and wobbling all the way. Dressed like a servant but ready to become a slave at the drop of a hat. Or apron. Or whatever ...
I stepped into the bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief, glad to get there without a spill. But even more relieved to find her still awake. Covered only by a single sheet, she lay on the bed in a languorous pose, her head propped up on some pillows. A frown of impatience darkened her features.
"You sure took long enough. I almost fell asleep. What did you do, fly down to Brazil for the coffee beans?"
"Sorry. You know how slow that percolator is." I parked the tray and poured her a cupful. "Besides, it's Colombian, good and strong. It'll give you energy."
"The hell you say. I'm worn to a frazzle, kiddo, all the coffee in South America couldn't keep me awake tonight. I'm going to finish this and drop right off."
"Oh ... "
"Pouting, huh? You still hot for me?"
"You know."
"Such a cute pout. All right, you can fool around a little under the sheet while I have my coffee."
"Under the sheet?"
"Yeah. Come on. You want Zoe's cunt? Better take that cap off, though, the pins might get loose and scratch me."
I moved to the foot of the bed, getting rid of the cap and the mess of hairpins hurriedly. True, I had hoped for a much longer session, but this would have to suffice. Let it be a good one then, let it be grand and glorious; these next few minutes would have to sustain me through the night.
Light filtered through the sheet. I kissed both feet and then wriggled upward. Trapped under the fabric, the woman-smell was immediately noticeable, turning all that humid warmth into a scented cloud, an aphrodisiac atmosphere of steamy cunt. It seemed to reach down and tug me into its center even as I licked at the soft inner surfaces of her thighs. I went willingly, sniffing the sex-odor and basking in the sex-heat and at last wallowing in the delectably moist and tender sex-flesh.
After a while a click sounded and the bedside lamp went out. Darkness closed in on me. And then a deeper darkness, the alluring mystery of her cunt, and I burrowed in to make my face an integral part of it, mouthing it, tonguing it, losing myself irrevocably in its lushness. Her hands touched me from outside the sheet, stroking at first and then gripping my head hard. And in the midst of my own noises, the liquidly swishing noise of my tongue, I heard the distant murmur of her words:
"Good ... good ... sexy little cuntlapper ... "
Her hips lurched, sliding the silky wetness up and down and all around on my face, spreading the hot gush of her succulence from my cheeks to my chin. Slick and slippery from so much oily lubrication, I struggled desperately to reorient myself and find my way back in again. It took a moment, but at last the tangled hair surrendered and parted to my lingual probe and soon her pliant cunt-lips were sucking me in once more, sucking just as greedily as my own mouth had ever sucked.
The excitement became too much; anyway, I went into a frenzy and must have blacked out for a little while. When a semblance of clarity returned, I' was still under the sheet, still sunk deep inside her body. Mindful of small details now, I realized that the frilly apron was probably losing most of its frills down there, wadded to a rag underneath me, drenched and sodden from the drainage between my legs. Too bad. But I had never wanted to be a maid in the first place, I simply wasn't cut out for it-and no cap-and-apron costume was going to change that. The locked chain on my wrists was a far better indicator, strong and unbreakable and more than a mere token of rank, something I could wear with pride! As a devoted slave should. Naked in chains, a slave to my goddess.
Only I wasn't naked, of course, even aside from that now negligible apron. Hmm. Another small detail? Uh-huh. Very small. I still had one of those sexy shoes on, the other had fallen off. It felt kind of funny. One shoe off and one shoe on. Like the nursery rhyme. But I didn't want to think about such a trivial matter, it interfered with my concentration. Squirming, I tried to get rid of it and finally managed with the help of my bare foot.
There! Now both feet were bare. I wriggled my toes and went back into action with undivided attention again, a sexy little cuntlapper. The sexiest cuntlapper in the world-with or without sexy shoes-oh shit, all I needed was a sexy cunt to lap! And I already had that. Sexiest cunt in the world ...
I labored diligently, using all the skill and knowledge and enthusiasm at my command to please her, to prove my devotion, to offer the fullest measure of ecstasy for the longest length of time; what better way to bid my beloved goddess goodnight? Even the signs of my own approaching climax meant little to me, all but ignored in my eagerness to bring on that other one and carry her to complete and consummate fulfillment. Until at last the thick thighs tightened around my neck and she pitched and tossed wildly, weltering like a ship in a stormy sea, the same storm that washed over me an instant later.
It was ended. For both of us. I lay quiescent a few minutes longer, licking gently, my tongue a soft swab, letting her down easy and awaiting further instructions. None came, no response at all. Aware that my delightful duties were finished for the night, I slipped out of bed and padded toward the bathroom.
"Dana?" Her drowsy voice stopped me. "Where the hell are you going?"
"To brush my teeth."
"Don't. Just come on back here, right back where you were, that's where .you're sleeping tonight. Forget about brushing your teeth. What's the matter, don't you like the way I taste?"
No answer was required, apparently, nothing but silent deference to her will. I crept back and curled up under the bedsheet. It was a long time before I fell asleep. But I didn't mind. Except that I was looking forward to my dreams rather impatiently. With the taste of Zoe still on my lips, they were bound to be interesting ones. Cunt dreams?
Chapter 15
Our last night at the lodge! Our last night alone together, our last night in this little sealed-off world that had become so dear to me-a sad occasion, really, even though we still had hours to go before tomorrow's departure. Maybe it was the loss of my silver chain that kept reminding me of it. Earlier in the day Zoe had unlocked the bracelets and freed my wrists with a nice touch of ceremony--after a mock alarm over the "missing" key!-so that I might give the place a thorough cleaning. I had put in a good afternoon's work and the job was done now, everything shipshape for the next lucky vacationer, but she didn't seem interested in locking me up again; alas, my freedom had apparently become permanent. For that matter, she had even insisted on helping me with the chores, stepping down from her pedestal despite my protest-just an intimate friend now, a goddess no longer.
Worse yet, she appeared strangely preoccupied at the moment, her mood pensive, almost remote. Clad in panties and a negligee, she lay sprawled on the bed languidly, one leg dangling over the edge, the other knee drawn up. Immersed in her own thoughts evidently, indifferent to my presence. Not exactly what I had hoped for on this last night of ours; where were the hot embraces, the crazy stunts, the wild demands and wilder fulfillments?
I winced inwardly, disappointed but also conscious of a pang of contrition. What right had I to criticize? If anything, I still owed this woman a debt of gratitude for making my holiday so marvelous. My expectations for tonight only stemmed from the joyous perfection of the past week; let me be thankful for that much without sulking like a spoiled child when the goodies run out.
Hmm. And let me be gracious enough to acknowledge my indebtedness? And perhaps kill two birds with one stone? Oh sure, any advance on my part might meet with a petulant brush-off or even a burst of wrath, but what of it? Even that would be better than just sitting around and doing nothing. Anyway, it should certainly put an end to all this suspenseful silence ...
Moving unobtrusively, I dropped to my knees and crept across the floor to the side of the bed. I pressed my lips to the dangling foot lightly, tentatively, waiting and listening for some faint mutter of annoyance. Or maybe even a snarl. Hearing none, I kissed her again, savoring the smoothly stretched skin of the contoured instep, tawny and elegant to the eye, spicy and a trifle tart to the taste. Ordinarily I might lingered there awhile and paid more leisurely homage-in other circumstances I might have begged to do it!-but tonight of all nights a sense of urgency prevailed and my lips moved up the tempting length of her leg almost automatically, intent only on a heightening of the intimacy.
"Ummm? Hey!"
I feigned temporary deafness. A wealth of soft thigh-flesh was sliding under my mouth, too exciting to forgo. I went on licking, her with my tongue, curbing my undue haste a bit but still sustaining the glide upward, ever upward, acutely aware now of the turbulence in my loins, a roiling of untapped desire; oh, if I could just nuzzle my way up into that demurely concealed crotch, close enough to nip and nibble at the little hairs poking through her panties, all those tiny little silver-blonde whiskers ...
"Not now, kid."
"Hmm?"
"I've got some heavy thinking to do."
"So think. Who's stopping you?"
"Well ... "
The note of indecision gave me confidence. Impetuously, I did a serpentine wriggle toward my goal, finding added courage in the seductively blended scent that eddied out from the downy cunt-lips hidden behind the fabric. They must have been pretty ripe, those cunt-lips-the musky odor hit me with a wallop!-ripe and ready for come-what-may, too ripe to be playing coquettish hide-and-seek games, certainly. Not too ripe for me, though-oh shit, the riper the better for this sexy little slut!-and I practically chewed a hole in her panties to get at the toothsome delicacy. If ever a cunt was edible ...
"Now you've gone too far. Dana!"
"Mmm?"
"Cut that out! Don't be so goddam horny."
She seemed genuinely angry. And I was horny, all right; the turbulent bubbles in my gut had finally erupted and blown sky-high; I felt like a seething geyser just short of its peak. Much too horny for apologies and explanations. Besides, what could I say? Nothing came to mind but that original impulse of mine, the urge to thank her once again for this lovely vacation. An urge I had set aside momentarily halfway up her dangling leg and then forgotten entirely in the sweet distraction between her thighs.
Still, it was only a "thank you" speech and I managed to utter a few words to that effect, hoping to placate her. Phony words at that point-a little blurt, a little stammer, a little mumble-dubious at best. Words I couldn't remember five minutes afterward. But I didn't have to, luckily; there was no need for any such strain on my memory. Zoe listened halfheartedly and then interrupted, peaceful now but out of her pensive doldrums, thank heaven.
"Okay, okay. But I've still got something on my mind, something I'd like to kick around awhile. Tell you what, kid, go fix a nice hot bath for me, huh? I always think better soaking in the tub anyway. No bubbles, just dump in a shot of that oil."
I nodded and trotted off dutifully, glad to be of even this small service. Soon the water was gushing merrily, nice and hot and redolent of her brand of bath oil. Only it didn't get very deep before she entered; I was still testing the temperature and making a few microscopic faucet adjustments. I spotted her out of the corner of my eye and swung around. She was nude now.
The sensation that came over me was pretty weird. I had been bending over the tub and still hadn't quite straightened up during the turn; now I could only stand there like that, slightly hunched over and peering up at her. Hit with a whallop again, only this time it was my sense of vision that bore the brunt. No ripe odor, at least not enough to be noticeable-just the oily bath fragrance. But she sure as hell looked ripe. The negligee and panties had been discarded and it was as though I had never seen her naked before. Not like that, posed arrogantly just inside the doorway, naked and earthy, naked and voluptuous, naked and bursting with a fleshy erotic ripeness-rail woman. What a woman!
My paralysis was fading. But I still hadn't bothered to straighten up, it just didn't seem like the thing to do. Wasn't there something else she had in mind, some little something I could do for her? Whatever it was, I wished she would hurry up and tell me. I couldn't just stand here like this, I felt so naked without that chain on my wrists. Naked and nameless and numb with distress over my bereavement. Give me back my identity!
My knees got limp and I just let them bend. As long as I was all hunched over and droopy anyway. And as long as that ripe cunt had quit acting shy and come out of hiding. But no, I was already passing that level and those darn fool knees of mine were still bending. Bending and bending and making everything even droopier. Until there was nowhere left to droop ...
It felt kind of nice, though, crouching way down low on the floor like that. I licked her feet. Pretty feet. Pretty toes. So nice to suck on! Somehow I didn't miss my silver chain quite so much; I was nice and naked now. Nice and naked. Uh-huh. Nice and hot, too, and getting hotter by the minute. Nice and hot and horny. Hmm.
Pretty feet. Pretty, pretty. They deserved my attention now, more than I had given them out there in the bedroom. - Slowly, that was the way-and then on up to her cunt. If she would let me. But we were here in the bathroom and the tub was running and I'd better not count on it; wasn't it generous of her to allow me even this much?
Then, abruptly, I had nothing again as the tall body moved away from me-only not in the direction of the tub, oh no, all of a sudden she didn't seem so tall and towering anymore. But no less arrogant, though. Maybe even more so, sitting there in the vulgarly immodest position, about to perform a vulgarly immodest act ...
"Honey? How about it? You did say something about thanking me, didn't you? Well, here's your chance."
"Oh. You-you want me to ... uh ... "
"Come here, Dana."
Uh-huh. We were in the bathroom, sure enough. And what the hell was I waiting for? I had to obey. In ail the world, nothing mattered but the satisfaction of my beloved goddess. Even if the goddess, in moments like this, chose to be more coarse and bawdy than any ordinary mortal.
On my hands and knees, I covered the distance. Once there, I remained in a crouch, unable to turn my gaze up to meet hers. And again I touched my mouth to her feet, temporizing but only too well aware of the futility of my gesture.
"Kid ... "
"Hmm?"
"Look at me. No! Up here at my face."
I raised my bowed head. Her dark eyes blazed, sending a shudder through my humbled body. Fearful now, fearful arid yet undeniably fascinated, I stared up at her like some small timid animal trapped and frozen into immobility by the glaring headlights of a metallic monster looming swiftly out of the night.
"You do want to, huh? Okay." She leaned backward just a bit, pushing the curve of her underbelly into prominence. "Go ahead then, go ahead and thank me."
There was an instant of hesitation as my palsied muscles refused to function. But only an instant. And then I slid my cheek up the length of one thigh and buried my lips in the curved bulge, the ripe-fleshed mound that split itself down the middle to receive me with a kind of squirming familiarity. I heard the bathtub roaring and wondered somewhat irrelevantly if it wouldn't run over and flood the place. But that didn't affect my kiss of gratitude at all-one flood at a time, I figured-and I went on kissing and lapping and opening my mouth wider and just naturally making myself useful in whatever way that might become necessary. I hated it, of course, the degradation, the bleak despair of submitting my once-proud self to such ignominious torment. But I could only swallow my pride along with my abhorrence and carry on to the bitter end, all but choking as the explosive thrill at last wracked my body and turned hatred and disgust into a lovely lust ...
Oh shit, talk about Old Faithful!
Chapter 16
My face was a mess. Struggling upright, I managed to splash some water on it at the sink before she brushed past me and stepped into the bathtub. I forgot my own plight and scurried toward her immediately, anxious to be of further service. Not the same kind, hopefully-but anxious nonetheless, anxious to make the most of our final night here.
"Uh, do you want me to help-"
"No, kiddo, not at the moment, I'd rather be alone. I've still got some thinking to do, remember? Don't worry, you'll be kept pretty busy tonight, I promise. Meanwhile just wait for me in the bedroom, I'll let you know if I need anything."
Reluctant to leave her, I took a last look and then went out and sat down on the bed. My pulse pounded and I was conscious of a rising nervous apprehension, almost a touch of terror. In bowing to her will so abjectly, I was losing all vestige of common sense and letting emotion take precedence over reason. There was even a tingle of excitement mixed with the terror, and I found myself wondering breathlessly what would come next. Actually I should have been darn glad to get out of the bathroom; at least it wouldn't be that again. But there was always a chance of it later on, of course, and that too seemed oddly exciting somehow, a vague and ill-defined challenge that might suddenly become grotesquely precise. Of all the silly things to get tingly about, imagine!
After a while, sooner than expected, she padded into the bedroom with that swaying gait of hers, her tawny skin slightly reddened from the heat of the bath. She reeked of musk and spice, the scent of the oil obviously supplemented with one of her many perfumes; one sniff was enough to stir me anew.
"I left the water in the tub, honey. No sense wasting it, though, jump in and take a bath yourself."
"Huh? In the same water?"
"Why not? You ought to feel honored." Grinning, she sprawled on the bed and waved me away airily. "Into the tub with you."
Once in the bathroom I suffered a fleeting pang of distaste, then I took the plunge resolutely and became aware only of the all-encompassing scented warmth. And of my own sweet surge of humility, a disconcerting but deliciously welcome sensation. So even lying in Zoe's bathwater wasn't repulsive to me. In fact, it soon seemed quite pleasant, too much so, perhaps-I was just beginning to get nicely relaxed when her voice penetrated from the bedroom and intruded upon my reverie:
"Hey, don't get too comfortable in there." A loud snap of fingers added emphasis to the already peremptory tone. "Shake your ass, kid, I've got a job for you to do."
I shook it fast, up and out and toweling myself dry as the water gurgled down the drain. "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like a little service. Come here."
Obedience was second nature practically, especially to an order like that. I hurried, eager to tumble into bed with her. That kind of service? I was eager, sure enough, eager to take her in my arms and offer up a whole slew of services. Only it didn't exactly work out that way, nor was she even dressed for the occasion now, once again swathed in a negligee. But no panties this time, at least a small concession to my eagerness-for which I was duly grateful.
She pointed one bare foot at me. "I'm tired of this pearly stuff. How about doing a job on my toenails, huh? Slap on some of that ruby red for me, brighten up the picture, okay?"
It wasn't the type of service I had anticipated, but even her most frivolous wishes carried weight with me. I got out the nail polishing kit and organized the various pieces of equipment; then, seated on a hassock at bedside, I launched into my assigned task. Meticulously, taking the greatest of pains, I began removing the old lacquer to prepare for the new.
"Ruby red ... " She lit a cigarette, inhaling and expelling the smoke slowly, her expression faintly sardonic. "Ruby red nails, that's about as close as I'll ever get to the real thing."
"Hmm? I don't understand."
"All my life I wanted to own one good piece of jewelry, a ruby or an emerald or something like that, a stone with class, you know? Not some cruddy half-ass diamond, either. I knew a dame once who had a ruby toe-ring, the real McCoy, no phony. Believe me, I sure envied that old bag."
"She-she wore a ring on her foot?"
"Uh-huh. Always made a big hit with it, too. Not that I'd wear mine like that, if I ever got one. If. If my ship comes in, my long-lost ship ... "
"Cheer up, maybe you'll get lucky in the lottery."
"Yeah. Maybe. I'll never make it whoring, that's for sure. As a matter of fact, I just might be getting out of the racket one of these days. Or getting into it deeper, you might say."
"How's that again? Don't confuse me, I'm liable to get nervous and splash ruby red all over the place. Zoe, what do you mean?"
"Well, that's what I've been thinking about all this time, trying to make up my mind. I'd like to go in business for myself, just set up the appointments, that sort of thing. I can't compete with you young ones any more; why shouldn't I become a madam?"
"Oh. You mean like ... uh ... "
"Yeah. Just sit by the telephone and arrange dates. Only I'd kind of specialize and play safe, keep the operation small. Very small and very discreet. For women only."
"Clients? Women clients?"
"Don't look so shocked, kid, it's just another way of making a living. Gay hookers for gay customers. Anyway, I still haven't decided yet, I've got to talk to a few people when we get back to town. How's my paint job coming?"
"Fine. Almost through. But about this idea of yours-"
"Forget it, honey, we're still on vacation. Case closed."
Case closed, oh sure-only it wasn't closed at all, and I just couldn't help brooding a little, wondering if she was really serious. Zoe a lesbian madam? Ugh. A procuress of young girls for wealthy women-lesbian hookers for lesbian clients-it sounded dirty somehow, a sordid business, unnatural! A go-between for perverts, what kind of career was that? Was the money really so important?
Hmm. Perhaps there were other compensations. Fringe-benefits. Maybe she would get to audition the cute youngsters herself. Oh shit, I only wished I had a ruby or emerald to give her, anything to wheedle her away from this unsavory pursuit. But no, the best I could offer was ruby red nail-polish. Applied with love ...
The toenails gleamed. I took a few crowning swipes with the buffer and bent to kiss her foot. The toes wriggled between my lips and I heard her chuckle delightedly, then she stubbed her cigarette out and rolled over upon her stomach. With one leg still angled in my direction, she reached behind her to pull the negligee loose. It slid high on her back, baring her body from the waist down, all but pointing those big bulgy buttocks at me.
"Kid? Do it this way, huh?"
The sole of her foot was turned toward me now, but I went on kissing. Then upward, over the curve of the calf, both calves, as I left the hassock to rest one knee on the bed. To the thick thighs, thick and fleshy and almost gross-fueling my humility, recharging the thrill. Until there was only one place left to go, one place, for my lips to worship. There. And I was already enslaved by my own need ...
"Come on, sexy, what are you waiting for?"
My mouth opened upon the soft cheeks and I felt a desire to ravish every bit of her bottom with suck-kisses. I heard a tiny snort of impatience after a while, though, and then the great dimpled domes quivered and separated and yielded invitingly to the nuzzling pressure of my face. The velvety skin enticed and entrapped, coaxing the tongue right out of my mouth. And right into the hole, the firm little pucker of flesh that stretched and tightened alternately, spasmodically, dictating the rhythm and governing the thrust even as the crack of her ass collected moisture and turned everything slick and slippery. We were doing pretty well together, I figured, and got myself geared for a long siege in this position. Only she made a quaint change, in her own unpredictable manner.
It happened so swiftly that I couldn't keep track. All of a sudden she was twisting out from under, dumping me off and flipping me flat on my back; above me, her buttocks looked positively enormous, an awesome sight, and I whimpered in fear and actually started to struggle. But she had already grabbed a handful of my hair and the clutching fingers crushed the revolt and held me motionless as her plump ass engulfed my face. And there I was, pinned down, sealed in a prison of flesh, shut off from all light and sound.
Mercifully, the prison gates relented and I gasped for breath, not knowing if the next one might be my last. I could hear her now, too, not very clearly but enough to catch that far-off wavering voice and fill in the blanks.
"Our last night together, let's make it a good one. You're in for a rough time, kid. And when I say rough ... "
There was more out there, a whole stream of such words, but the pressure came on again and muted their meaning-the monstrous pressure of her rump and the meaty thickness of her thighs and the piled-high mountain of her body-and all I could pick up was a rumbling noise that sounded like the whisper of an ominously smoldering volcano. But I knew what she wanted, what she was probably demanding of me from her lofty perch up there, and I couldn't go wrong just sticking out my tongue. Uh-huh. That was it. The pressure appeared to be lightening a bit and she had begun to rock her body, sweeping back and forth across my tongue. Uh-huh. Rubbing her crotch over my face, the long furrow from spine to pelvis, her ass swinging above me like a huge pendulum. No, not above me, not exactly. On me. In me. Around me. Grinding down harder and harder and practically surrounding me, smearing herself all over me.
It was rough, all right, the rocking motion coupled with an increase of pressure, and my jaws weakened and went wide. Now I had to bear the oppressive burden upon my open mouth. As if I was swallowing it. Or was it swallowing me? Humiliating, to say the least. Ugly. Messy. Hateful, the entire business. But I couldn't stop, of course, I couldn't escape, I couldn't do anything but suffer in silence, a poor mistreated slave girl ...
Hah! Suffer? Every slave should be so lucky! Sexy little Dana-slut was doing just fine, thank you, everything was coming up roses. Because of the thrill tearing me apart. The thing inside me, the thing busting loose all by itself-untouched by human hands!-while that big body up there just went on using my mouth. One of nature's wonders, no less. The thrill, the thing, the thing deep in my gut-so perfect, so uniquely perfect for me-ah yes, I knew right then and there that my mortal flesh could no longer function without it. I would dry up and wither and die. I would starve and crumble and turn to dust. Only the miracle of that ripe body could slake my thirst and appease my hunger. Only if I drank Zoe and ate Zoe and became a part of Zoe would there be life for me. Life and health and a chance for happiness. Not sanity, perhaps, but I wasn't asking for everything, just the thing-miraculous but surely a bit mad ...
Chapter 17
"Oh, you doll!"
"Umm?"
"That hot mouth of yours. Kid, you're terrific. You really learned how up there at the lodge. If ever there was a cuntlapper ... "
"Mmm, yours. Your cuntlapper."
"Yeah. But slow down, will you? Stop a minute."
"Let me, let me ... "
"Wait. Stop. I've got something on my mind."
"Uh-huh. I'm listening."
"That's better. Remember what we talked about earlier?"
"Earlier?"
"About that friend of mine. The one I've been seeing so much of lately. Were you really jealous?"
"I-I guess so. Zoe, you know why. You were busy every time I called. I just couldn't get together with you."
"Well, you're here with me now. Okay?"
"Wonderful. So let me just ... "
"No! Quit that!"
"Mmm. Oh, all right."
"Stay where you are, though. Look at me. Look but don't touch, understand? It'll only be for a little while."
"Uh-huh."
"Good girl. Hmm. Wait. Let me adjust the lamp, I want to see your pretty face. There now. What's the matter, too bright for you? Open your eyes, you'll get used to it. Dana? Do you hear me? I said open your eyes!"
"Okay, okay. Darling, why are you acting like this? Are you angry with me? Did I do something wrong?"
"I'm not angry. But you did do something wrong."
"Oh. I'm sorry. What was it?"
"Earlier. When you were jealous. I didn't like that. I found your jealousy rather childish."
"I-I'm sorry. But I'm over it now."
"Are you? Completely?"
"If you want me to be."
"Aha! Good answer. If I want you to be. That's the way I like to hear you talk, kiddo. It tells me what I want to know. It tells me that you're mine. Do you understand that? Mine!"
"Yesss. All yours."
"Damn right. Besides, there was no reason to be jealous in the first place. It's strictly business between Blanche Fuller and me. I'm still trying to figure out a way to make money, and she's got some ideas on the subject."
"Oh. Money ... "
"Money. Big money. How else am I ever going to get that ruby? Wouldn't you like to see your darling Zoe with an elegant ruby ring? Hey, keep your eyes open down there!"
The light hurt, but I steeled myself and went on staring at her cunt. Not that it was such an ordeal. Except that I would have been happier just sucking it. Delicious cunt. It looked so wet inside her muff-hair, the twin lips dilated and drooly- coral pink-all wet and shiny from my mouth. Anyway, I didn't care to hear any more about that ruby ring obsession of hers. Although it wasn't so bad, actually, now that she no longer mentioned the other thing, the ugly notion about becoming a madam for lesbian call girls. She must have given that up, thank heaven, evidently she had decided against it and was now scouting around for something better. And yet I couldn't help wondering if her business with the Fuller woman wasn't connected with that in some way. I didn't ask, though-why stir up trouble? Zoe would tell me everything in due time. And until then, oh shit, I didn't even want to know; just let me remain blissfully ignorant!
"They're open, they're open, my eyes are wide open. And so is my mouth, whenever you're ready. In case you haven't noticed. I'm not jealous anymore, either, so go ahead and see your friend; who's complaining? I'll be pretty busy myself this next couple of weeks, my favorite John is coming to town again-you remember that Jerome character I told you about, don't you? He takes up most of my time, so I probably won't be around much anyway. Which is all the more reason why we shouldn't waste any-"
"Simmer down, honey, we've got all night. Uh, about next week though, I may want you over to meet Blanche yourself."
"Huh? What for?"
"Well, like I said, it's been strictly business between us. But she's helped me a lot, so I kind of owe her a favor, a little fun maybe, you know? Sexy fun."
"Oh? So where do I come in?"
"Well, I figured a little party ., ."
"Zoe? You-you mean the three of us?"
"Umm, something like that. Just for a lark, huh?"
"No, thanks. I don't need that sort of lark. I'm surprised at you for even suggesting it, knowing how I feel about you."
"The romance bit, eh?" She snorted. "You think something like that would make a difference between us afterward?"
"It will make a difference. It's bound to. It would kill me to see you with another woman, it would tear me apart. And if that's still jealous, well ... "
"Oh. If that's your only problem, what the hell, never mind me, just do something between the two of you. Blanche would really go for that, she likes cute young stuff. But one way or the other, kid, you've got to bail me out just this once. I need your help, I need it bad, so don't turn me down. Not if you love me."
"It's because I do love you, that's why I have to say no. I don't want any other woman. The very thought of it sickens me. No, I'm telling you right now, I just can't do it."
"You mean you won't."
"Can't or won't, my answer is still no."
"Uh-huh. Okay, dearie, I'll just have to find somebody else then. Well, suit yourself. Too bad. I guess that means the end of a beautiful friendship."
"Zoe! What-what are you saying?"
"You heard me. I asked for your help. And if this one little things too much to ask ... "
"But-but is it such a little thing?"
"Forget it, kid. We could argue all night and still wind up in the same stew. Let's get some sleep, huh? Maybe we'll feel different in the morning."
"You don't want ... uh ... "
"Not tonight. I'm just not in the mood anymore. It wouldn't be much fun, you know? Go to sleep. Unless you'd rather get up and go back to your own place."
I bit my lips in desperation. Back to my own lonely bed? It didn't much matter where I slept now, I'd be awake all night long anyway. The end of a beautiful friendship. She might just as well have said the end of my life! The prospect was too terrifying to contemplate. And there was only one solution, of course; what chance did I have against a goddess?
"Darling. Zoe? I love you. Don't send me away."
"We'll talk about it in the morning. All right?"
"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Is-is that the right answer? I'm yours, all yours, no more arguing. I'll even be nice to your friend. Only I wish you'd tell me what it's all about. Are you two going into business together?"
"Nothing like that. You'll know when the time comes. You just be nice to Blanche, that's exactly what I want. Hmm. Sometimes I can be pretty demanding, huh?"
"I know."
"Do you? I wonder. Right now! There. See? See how demanding I can be?"
"Wait ... the light ... "
"No. I like it."
"But it's so-"
"Hush, darling. I want the light on. Just like this. Oh, that's gorgeous, the way it shines on the back of your head. Looks like your hair is on fire."
"Mmm ... "
"And your mouth, too. On fire. Suck, suck. You want to set fire to Zoe's cunt?"
"Umm ... love it ... cunt ... "
"So hot! Hot cunt. Hot cunt for a hot cuntlapper. Zoe's hot little cuntlapper."
"Always."
"Uh-huh. Talk to me, talk right into my cunt."
"I love you."
"Oooh! Later I'll let you say that again. In my ass. Will you be able to do it? Just like that, only on the other side. Will you tell me you love me when you're licking my ass?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere. I love you."
"Sexy bitch! Sexy little slave bitch ... "
Chapter 18
Dinner was going well. Jerome seemed charming as ever, a bit awkward and overly mild-mannered, but certainly an amusing table companion. But from the way he hemmed and hawed now and then, it was apparent that the guy had something on his mind.
Aside from that, he kept knocking himself out to make me happy, acting like some kind of henpecked husband enjoying his abasement. All evening it had gone on like that, with Jerome leaping to obey as if my slightest wish had great significance for him. And there were moments when my nearness had a noticeable effect on him, too plain to miss-his breathing quickened and his hands clenched and unclenched nervously.
Like a man in love?
I sensed a proposition coming, a very nice proposition, the type worth listening to. He was going to offer to keep me, set me up in an apartment and pay all the bills, I was almost positive of it. And I was already giving the idea some thought. I could quit whoring and still live comfortably. Better yet, as a lady of leisure I'd have plenty of time for Zoe.
True. I'd be losing some of my independence. But not much. Jerome Ackroyd lived in Colorado and traveled all over the country on business-even to Canada and Mexico sometimes-he just wouldn't be around very often. Then too, he wasn't the kind of man to crack a whip over his woman. Just the opposite, in fact. I really like the guy, the only client who had ever treated me so royally on every date, wooing me and staging a seduction when he could have just tossed my creamy little body into bed for that amount of money. Oh shit, with all that going for him, I was sure ready to listen to his proposition.
By the time he appeared on the verge of speaking out, my mind was almost made up. Then-horrors!-his elbow hit a water tumbler and my dress got soaked. He jumped up to help me and we were immediately surrounded by a flock of discreet waiters proffering napkins and towels and sympathy.
"Relax, dear." I threw him my most winsome smile when the fuss had quieted down. "Don't look so forlorn, it's not the end of the world. Let's finish and go to my apartment, shall we? I'll get out of this damp rag and into something dry."
"Clumsy me. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. Don't grieve."
"But I wanted to take you to a nightclub. A discotheque, perhaps, or some club with a good floor-show."
"No floor-shows, please. Besides, you've got something on your mind tonight, I can tell. Woman's intuition, you know. Let's go to my place-I'll get comfortable and then you can spill it, okay?"
He grinned boyishly. "Spill it. No, thanks. I've done enough spilling for one evening."
I giggled and the mellow mood returned. And I was determined not to let it slip away this time. After all, it isn't every day that a girl gets asked to become a kept woman. And that was obviously his intention; what else could it be?
At the apartment, I told him to fix a drink and started toward the bedroom to change. Then, on second thought-and rather wickedly-I stopped halfway and unzipped my dress and simply shucked it off over my head. To hell with propriety, I figured, this little lady could do no wrong tonight. Whatever I did was going to be just fine with love-smitten Jerome. A nice feeling, nice indeed. All the more so when the hiss of the zipper and the rustle of the dress caught his attention and brought him to a standstill practically in midstep. Like a puppet on a string. My string.
I made a pretense of checking and adjusting the things I still had on, using it as an excuse to strike a few cute poses for my spellbound audience. Fragile bra and wispy panties. High-heeled pumps. All in black, very elegant and a bit depraved. And the sexiest garter-belt and long sheer hose, still the choice with any upper-bracket hooker despite the comparative comfort of pantyhose. A costume to win any candy-daddy's heart and/or wallet. This one almost melted to a puddle of weak manhood on the carpet. At least that was the impression I got.
An accurate impression, as it turned out. I moved past him to sit down on the sofa and he was already sinking to his knees in front of me. He kissed my legs, one dab on each, and then peered up imploringly, his face tense with anxiety.
I tried to relax him. "Like my lingerie and such? I hope you don't mind, dear: I'm wearing sexy stuff in case you've got something sexy to say to me tonight."
He looked puzzled and then shook his head. "No. I wasn't thinking about sex. But I do like your sexy outfit. Dana, you get more beautiful every time I see you."
The puzzlement was all mine. He sure didn't sound like a man about to bargain for a new mistress. I had guessed wrong, no doubt, but he still had something important on his mind tonight, that was certain. He was even trying to say it now, I realized, but my befuddled brain registered only strung-together syllables until 'he blurted the momentous words out-"Darling, will you marry me?"-and even then I couldn't cope with the shock.
My head reeled. Marry me? Dana Thorpe, prostitute? The poor guy must have gone plumb crazy. Only his spiel wasn't finished yet and he had become quite coherent-if not downright eloquent -now that the crucial words had been uttered. With only a trace of nervousness, he couched his proposal in terms of money. Not exact sums, just money in general. In large denominations. In large bank accounts and investments and the like. Oh, he loved me, all right, and he said so with touching tenderness. But in view of our disparate ages, he considered money his major asset.
"You'll be comfortable for the rest of your life, darling, long after I'm dead and gone. You've got years ahead of you and I promise you'll be well provided for."
"Jerome, don't talk of dying. That's silly. You're still in the prime of life."
"No. I won't try to fool you. I'm an old man and I've already faced that fact. What's more, I have a heart condition-it's not really bad, but it could get worse-so I'm a sick man too. But I'm rich, my dear, rich enough to make any woman happy. And you're the woman I want. Dana? I want you so much it hurts. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"
"Uh-huh. But I won't marry you just for the money. And that's the only reason you seem to think-"
"Marry me and never mind the reason. Oh, I'm sorry, this is all pretty sudden to you. Don't give me an answer now, take plenty of time, all the time you need. But please don't say no. I'll be good to you, darling, I swear it. You'll never want for anything."
"Please. You mustn't get yourself worked up. Jerome, you've paid me a great compliment and I'll never forget it. But we both know marriage isn't for girls like me-unless I tricked some man into it, of course, and I've got too much pride for that. Hmm. Even that word tricked has a different meaning in my profession. You treat me like a princess, but you're still paying for my services and that makes me a prostitute. I'm a hooker. A whore. I'm not ashamed of it, mind you-quite the contrary-but for your sake, let's stick to tradition and our nice relationship and not get all tangled up in the bonds of matrimony."
Funny thing. He sat there on the floor taking it all in, and yet I saw only love on his seamed face. Even greater love now. It made me feel mighty cheap, seeing his genuine sincerity after my own phony outburst. Well, not phony, but not quite candid either. I had laid it on pretty thick about being a whore, but that was really just to ease my conscience, stressing half the truth to overbalance the stigma of the untold half. What could I say, that I'm a whore who just happens to love another whore? Hey, look at me, I must be a lesbian, I suck a lesbian's juicy pink cunt, I kiss a lesbian's big soft plump ass, I crouch low like a slave and lick the ruby red toenails on a lesbian's feet. Just like a lesbian, a hot little slut of a lesbian; what man in his right mind would want to marry a lesbian?
"Dana. Oh, my dearest one. I love you. That's all I need to know. The past will end when you become my wife."
He took my hand gently, almost afraid to touch me, and buried his lips in the palm, kissing tenderly. His voice had wavered a little, kind of choking up and fading away. I glanced down and saw that his eyes were misty. For a moment I damn near felt that way myself, on the brink of tears. The guy meant it, that was for sure. And such a nice old guy, too, not somebody to take advantage of. No, it wouldn't be fair to marry him under false pretenses-I liked him too much for that. Even if I loved him a little it would still be wrong; how could I become the wife of Jerome Ackroyd when I had this overwhelming desire for Zoe Madrigal? Could I offer him a body that had known its greatest pleasure in a lesbian embrace? A body that turned hot with passion whenever Zoe was nearby? A body that had somehow slipped out of control? No. Not in marriage. But for a commercial consideration, well ...
To hell with the wedding, let's have the honeymoon!
I moved my hand, the hand he was still kissing, leading his head downward in a gesture that let him know what my need was. Eyes shining, he gazed up at me in adoration, whispering some compliment about my youth and beauty. I cut it short, my voice thick and throaty and rife with urgency.
"No more talk. Just love me ... "
It galvanized him into action. He slumped low and began kissing my legs ardently, not just a pair of tiny pecks this time. I was still partially clothed, still in high heels and nylons. Garter belt. Panties. Bra. But he made no attempt to undress me, nor did I want him to. I was enjoying the sensation of his hot mouth through the fragile fabric of my hosiery.
His kisses glided upward, halting at my knees awhile and then skimming my thighs. A flurry of caresses tickled my skin just above the stocking-tops. At the same moment, quite"dexterously, he reached up and hooked into the waistband of the panties. I leaned back, angling a little and resting on my elbows. That motion was voluntary, but seconds later my hips rose from the sofa with no conscious effort on my part. And then the panties were slipping away and the cool air replacing their warmth, touching me intimately.
I closed my eyes and fell all the way back. The garter straps tightened and tugged at the stockings; it felt constricting but not unpleasantly so. They weren't in the way. Nothing was in the way. Nothing but me! Craving. Demanding. Luxuriating. My body became an object of total sensuality, my flesh quivered and twitched and offered itself to the delight of his lingering caress.
"Dana ... darling ... darling ... "
The words were muffled, scarcely audible, but I could sure feel them. I could feel the hot vibrations in my cunt, the sweet liquid fire communicating itself to the surrounding surfaces. They were the kind of words that required no spoken reply. I was just kissing him back, that was answer enough, kissing his lips with my hairy ones. Although there was just a hint of slightly prickly stubble on his face, too, quite different from my own downy fluff. It felt fine. Scratchy but nice. Tongue too, rough but nice. A thrill I hoped would go on forever. Or for a long time, anyway. Forever was too serious a word to fret about now.
I raised my limbs slowly, careful to avoid dislodging even a whisker of his deeply implanted face. My knees straightened and I opened my eyes to see the elongated projection of my legs encased in the shiny-dull film of nylon. Topped now by upside-down shoes with slim heels pointing toward the ceiling.
They were beautiful, those legs. I only wished dear Jerome could see them from this interesting viewpoint. But he was too busy. And I didn't care to interrupt him, naturally, he seemed more than satisfied to remain right there. Implanted. As if he had found a home that suited him to perfection. Implanted in my cunt. A home he hoped never to leave.
Later, perhaps, I would insist on his leaving it; there were other areas of my body that merited attention, each quite beautiful in its own way. I knew his big rough tongue would go right on lapping even if I turned over and shoved my naked buttocks in his face. My lewdly beautiful ass. It might shock him, perhaps, but that wouldn't matter. I was in control. He would never dream of backing out now. So I could succumb without any petty restrictions to my desire for ever more daringly contrived caresses. I wondered how he would fare with a mouthful of my toes.
Ah yes, soon I would lower my legs and roll this way and that and demand that he follow my twisting and turnings and accept whatever bounty I granted him. And he would do so. I was sure of it. Because it would make me happy, and wasn't that of prime importance to both of us?
Hmm. A novel concept. It was nice to be selfish and still know that it was the right thing to do. Something new in ethics. If I married Jerome our relationship would broaden rather than shrink. I would be his wife and his mistress and his dictator all at the same time, and he would love me all the more for it. I might even become his whore-for old time's sake?-and he would love me all the more for that too, a wealthy young matron recalling her humble origin and subsequent rise from poverty. Not that this young whore was ever impoverished! It. was simply a matter of taking pride in being Mrs. Jerome Ackroyd if that impossibility ever came to pass.
Oh shit, not a chance! Even with this manly muff-diver of mine going at it like a bridegroom down there, I was famished for a taste .of some tawny female flesh. Dying for a whiff of cunty perfume. Would that big beautiful bitch-goddess never let go?
Chapter 19
Sprawled lazily on the living room couch, Zoe reeked of perfume and radiated sex, absolutely alluring in her filmy negligee. If only I could have made love to her! If only I hadn't promised to be nice to that other one ...
She was already waiting for me in the bedroom, though, middle-aged and fat, a rather pathetic creature. Blanche Fuller. A plump blob of flesh, all smiles and simpers and giggles, an inane parady of girlishness. An oversized kewpie-doll with washed-out blue eyes and a mop of orange-streaked reddish-brown hair-ugh- I felt like a condemned prisoner with no hope of a reprieve.
"Still pouting, hmm? Come on, kid, wipe that look off your face. You couldn't be nice to anybody when you're sulking."
"I-I could be nice to you. Zoe?" Feigning a weak grin, I bent and kissed her bare foot beseechingly, licking the toes with the tip of a worshipful tongue. "Isn't there some way I can get out of this without causing trouble?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You just try and I'll personally guarantee that you'll be in for the hassle of your life. Now leave my feet alone, you're getting yourself all steamed up."
"Steamed up, oh sure. Don't I wish I could."
"Huh? Oh. Come on up here. I guess maybe we ought to do something about that. Put you in a better mood."
I straightened up and stepped toward her beckoning hand, gasping as it shot out and seized my thigh. The clamped palm squeezed and relaxed alternately, stupefying me with an ebb and flow of sensation. I winced and then trembled uncontrollably as the forceful grip inched upward with deliberate but maddening slowness.
"Look at me. This is Zoe telling you what to do. When you go into that bedroom, don't worry, you'll be great. You'll think of me, only me, and that will make it easy to put on an act for her. Remember, you'll be doing it to please me. Just me. And I'm the only one for you, isn't that right?"
"Y-yes. You're the only one."
"Good girl."
My knees were getting limp. Still flexing, her hand had reached my cunt, cupping it from outside but delaying entry as I licked my dry lips and struggled to keep from collapsing. Her face became a weird blur. All but the eyes, the dark slitted eyes that glowed and commanded and imparted their uncompromising message; oh shit, they bored right through me!
"And it'll be a good act, you understand, Dana?"
"Uh-huh ... " I didn't, really, at least not clearly-how could I think of one woman and put on an act for another? But this wasn't the time to say so. It might interrupt the movements of those fingers down there, especially that one marvelous finger that had left the others to go foraging around on its own.
"Okay. That's settled." Her hand fell away. "Don't worry, you'll be just-"
"No. Please ... "
"Huh?"
"M-more. Do it some more."
"Oh?" The dark eyes glittered. "No, you've had enough, you're in the right mood now. Yeah. You'll do just fine. But you can give me a little kiss if you want to." Then, sharply, "Not like that. You know the kind of kiss that pleases me most. The same kind that pleases you. Uh-huh. That's better."
Her cunt thrilled me. In the ecstasy of wallowing inside her perfumed flesh, I forgot the urgency of my own. I just wished it could go on forever like this. Even the anguish of my prospective martyrdom began to recede disarmingly. Now there was just the two of us, lovers, a loving mouth, a loving cunt ...
"And afterward, darling, just think of what comes afterward. I'll be waiting right here for you. For more of this ... " Her thighs tensed, rattling my skull deliciously. "And then you can have all you want. Won't that be lovely?"
"Mmm ... " I nodded emphatically, still sucking.
"So let's have no more pouting to spoil that pretty face, hmm? Blanche may not be the most appetizing woman in the world, but just stay in this sexy mood and I'm sure you'll enjoy her. I know damn well she'll enjoy you. Uh-huh. Who wouldn't?" Sighing almost plaintively, she twined her fingers in my hair. "Oh, I do hate to let you go. But it's time now." Her grasp tightened abruptly and yanked, pulling my head up as her belly lurched and disgorged my face. Merciless once again, she held me there like that, off balance, hanging by a fistful of hair. "I'll say this just once, kid. I want you to be as nice to her as you are to me. And as obedient. Do as you're told-and no whining, you hear?"
"I-I understand. Whatever you say."
"On your way, then. Better stop for a quickie in the bathroom first, though, your makeup needs fixing. But that's all, no clothes, no robe-just do your face and hair and go in there naked. Do a good job, make me proud of you. Any questions?"
"N-no. No questions."
"Go ahead. I'll see you later. Scat!"
I stifled a sob. But her authoritative tone demanded total submission, stirring me to action immediately. Zoe had spoken and it simply wasn't within my power to disobey. Reluctantly, after one last adoring glance, I trotted off to prepare for the ordeal, my heart heavy and yet thumping in excitement.
Oh, it was awful, of course, awful to be sent away in this condition, my nerves taut, my lips tingling. But it must have been effective, I had to admit, turning me on and leaving me less fretful about the coming adventure. Maybe the whole thing would be just a cake walk if I could keep thinking of my sexy goddess. Of the thrilling fingers and tempting flesh and the exhilarating prospect of embraces later on. With no reason then to cut my kiss short. That favorite kiss of ours! One embrace might even carry us through the night-who could tell?-sometimes she could be so demanding.
In front of the mirror, I smiled wryly and knew that any all-night kiss would probably by my own demand. Or my plea, rather, since I might even have to beg for permission. But the idea itself was definitely mine. Because even now I hated to use my lipstick and obliterate those last precious traces of the taste and scent of my beloved. The thrill of my beloved's cunt. Beloved cunt ...
But it had to be done-and carefully too; wasn't I supposed to look my best and make her proud of me? I worked steadily and finished the job, fluffing out my hair as a final touch. Although that girl staring at me from out of the glass was hardly the fluffy type now, too suave, too sleek and sophisticated. And so sexy! I stared back breathlessly, seeing myself anew, the face of a stranger all of a sudden, ablush with shame and aglow with a mature sensuality far beyond my years. Even my freshly painted lips appeared to be still in the middle of a kiss. Beautiful. A judgment I could make with pride and without prejudice. In all my young life I had never looked quite so beautiful.
The fluttering inside me persisted, my nerves still stretched to the breaking point, but I recognized the sensation as more excited than queasy. I thought of the fat woman in the bedroom and was mystified by my own ambiguous mood. After such strict orders to obey her, it seemed impossible that I should accept the situation so placidly. Even willingly, to some extent, although that was probably a delusion instilled by Zoe's promise of delights to come-if the orders were carried out to her satisfaction. Or to Blanche's satisfaction, rather, since that was the crux of the issue. So perceptive, that shrewd goddess of mine ...
The robe on the hook was a temptation-a pretense of modesty, if nothing more-but I remembered my instructions and left it hanging there. Naked but only mildly embarrassed, I left the bathroom and went to meet my fate. The door was ajar and I strode in resolutely, not even bothering to knock.
Clad in a concealing peignoir, the woman lay upon the bed; she arched her brows and simpered gleefully, taking her cue from me and wriggling out of the garment. She was sloppy fat, sure enough, but I made the observation dispassionately; fat, skinny, beautiful, ugly-what difference did it make? I was only doing this to please my lover lying out there on the couch. So that I might earn the right to lie with her afterward and perhaps please myself.
"You look gorgeous, my dear. Such an exquisite figure! And so young, too. Charming, simply charming."
The flattery helped. "Thank you." I lifted my arms overhead and revolved seductively, very much aware of the admiration in her glistening eyes. A hot gaze feasting on my flesh, my nude flesh so openly flaunted; ah yes, it was nice to be appreciated, even if only by someone who meant nothing to me. I was proud of my body. And grateful for the boost to my ego. Besides, just standing here and posing like this was easy, a pleasant postponement before settling down to grapple with the problem.
Only it turned out to be pretty brief. Blanche tossed her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Two steps closed the gap between us and brought my exhibition to an abrupt halt. With a bump that almost knocked me down! She furnished solid support, though, holding me upright in a clutching bear hug and rubbing her plump body against mine.
"Baby, you're so beautiful ... "
I tried to break free. "Please. Can't we-"
Her mouth silenced me. She forced my lips apart with her probing tongue. I gave up struggling and accepted her affections docilely, poised now and playing my proper role with an air of detachment, no longer disturbed by her unseemly but understandable haste. Resistance would have been futile anyway; there was hidden strength beneath all that blubber, and I just succumbed to the inevitable and let my lips go soft. Soft and pliant, yielding to the stab of her tongue with no more than a token whimper, demure even in the face of danger. Just letting her know that I was only a little girl, outweighed and overmatched and helpless against such odds, a poor little girl in need of sympathy and tender loving care. Wouldn't the big bad lady take heed and play nice?
Hah! I should have known better; meek little girls were this big bad lady's meat apparently. Her kiss turned fierce, as pierce as any kiss ever to come my way, and my head lolled under it limply as I absorbed the length of her tongue in my mouth. The big fat tongue she was cramming down my throat. Ugh! My stomach churned, but I didn't have time to worry about getting sick, not with a sudden new anguish to bear. I moaned as her hands flexed and locked cruelly upon my breasts, frightening now and wondering just how sadistic this fat bitch was going to get.
And yet, somehow, even the pain grew less intolerable as she went on squeezing my tits with her hands and raping my mouth with her tongue. Much as I hated it, I recognized a certain vaguely familiar excitement in the depths of my body, hateful but not exactly unwelcome; a little more of it might even make this dreaded encounter quite interesting. She was pinching my nipples now, alternating sharp agony with a dull ache-sadism, pure and simple!-and still my fear was turning into something else, something different, something I couldn't ignore.
No! The mere thought gave me a twinge of guilt, a sense of disloyalty. This flabby thing marauding my body and clogging my brain was just an impersonal hunk of nothing, an obstacle that represented only a means of pleasing my one true love. Zoe, I'm doing it for you!
When the kiss ended, Blanche nudged me toward the bed roughly, standing there with an evil grin on her face as I tumbled and then peered up at her, a shaky little heap of humanity. She looked like a cow now, a cow with dangling udders. Only she was big and powerful and obviously determined to use me for her own perverted pleasure- and there was nothing cow like in her attitude. She didn't simper any more. Or toss pretty compliments. Her lips were a twisted sneer of scorn as she glared down at me.
"Snotty little cunt. You think I'm dumb enough to fall for that Miss America act of yours? You think I don't know what you are? Whore! Filthy little whore!"
I shuddered. She heaved herself up on the bed, one heavy leg and then the other. I shrank away, squirming frantically for an avenue of escape. But her great bulk sagged and her fat thighs came down on my already sore breasts, and I shut my eyes as she squashed me into immobility.
"No, you little bitch!" She slapped my face. "Open your eyes and look at me." Again her palm lashed out, stinging my cheek. "Look at me, you whore! Look and see what you're getting."
My eyelids flickered and went wide. I saw the ugliness of her, the bloated corpulence of her grotesque form, the pasty flesh draped in misshapen folds and wrinkles. And far above, in the dim perspective, the leering face with those round pig-eyes gloating malignantly through tiered layers of wax like fat. It was a pretty horrendous sight, but I kept looking at her. I sure didn't want that pudgy hand smashing me again.
"Okay, baby, time to show your stuff." The pressure on my bosom eased perceptibly. "You know what a girl like you can do for a woman like me. And you're going to do it, you hear? With that little pink tongue of yours, plenty of tongue. Come on r whore, let's see how good you are!"
She loomed above me, directly over my head. I felt the heat of her crotch eddying down upon my bruised skin. And then the monstrous pulp settled and I fought for breath. But it divided with surprising familiarity, thick with hair, and I put my tongue to work almost instinctively, conscious of my assignment and dutiful to my role of cunt-lapper-no matter how loathsome the cunt. This one sure tasted vile to my admittedly untutored palate, all slimy and oozing from inside, inundating me with its fetid flow, practically, soaking my mired face to the point of total saturation in the seemingly endless drainage. And still I labored conscientiously, sucking and slurping like a veteran as that gargantuan hulk up there twitched and writhed in fitful response.
It wasn't all that bad, actually, once I picked up the knack of breathing and became accustomed to the various and sundry pitfalls encountered in lapping an uncooperative cunt. I might have gone on like that tirelessly with no further cause for complaint. But then my fat friend got playful all of a sudden, lurching up off the platform of my cheekbones and coming apart like an unruly missile on the launch pad. I panted for a blessedly untainted lungful of oxygen, a bit dazed but nonetheless delighted by the unexpected freedom. Only it lasted just about that long too, barely time for a single breath and my respite was over. Blanche had regrouped at the peak and readjusted on the way down, searching for new and more fanciful sport. And her search was narrowing down proportionately, of course, making any added advice unnecessary. But she offered some just the same, loud and clear and disgustingly unmistakable:
"Tongue it, you stupid bitch! Kiss my ass! Tongue my ass! Suck my ass! Give me your tongue, whore, and give it to me good-right up my asshole!"
If ever there was a worse moment in my life, I couldn't recall it. Self-preservation alone was enough to spur me to instant obedience, otherwise that enormous weight would have crushed my skull like an eggshell. So I went ahead as ordered, kissing and sucking and tonguing, kissing and sucking and tonguing. And feeling that nasty little hole squirming to the touch and rolling around on my nose and mouth and cheeks. Using me, just using me, with no thought of love or beauty or the thrill of worship. The big thing squashing my face wasn't even an ass anymore, it was just swollen meat, fat meat slobbering all over me, slobbering back the spit from my own aching mouth.
Death would have been a wiser choice. Luckily, though, I did have a means of preserving my sanity-Zoe, I'm doing it for you, all for you-still sufficient motivation even now! Not that I needed anything to inspire me, it was just a matter of do or die-and I had no intention of letting my young and active life get snuffed out under some fat woman's rump. So I remembered a few lessons out of the past and just acted accordingly, fucking her slippery-hot ass with my tongue and going into a contortion to sneak one arm up and fuck her slippery-hot cunt with my fingers. Until she lurched up off the launch pad again and shattered herself to a million fragments, give or take a thousand. Too many to put back together at this hour of the night, anyway, and I left her like that and tiptoed out on my own errand of salvage. A little girl in search of sport. With her little pink tongue refreshed and ready to go. As a matter of fact, it was a very good hour of the night.
Chapter 20
Funny thing. Tiptoeing away from the bedroom, I was struck by a new introspective thought, Making love to that fat woman had been sheer horror at the time, but now that it was over I felt only pride. A rather insane kind of pride, no doubt, but just turning in a good report to Zoe made all that agony worthwhile ... not that I was anxious to go through it again.
"Kid?"
"Oh, you're awake."
"How did it go?"
"Fine for Blanche. Awful for me."
"What's she doing now?"
"Sleeping. Out cold."
"You must have done a real job on her, honey. But was it really so awful for you?"
"Uh-huh. Oh, maybe not. I don't know. I-I'd rather not talk about it now."
"Okay. I understand." Zoe flipped the negligee off, her body shifting on the couch languorously. "She is kind of fat and ugly, I guess. But I'm not. And aren't you glad?"
"You're beautiful."
Her naked hips moved provocatively. "Then come, darling, let me help you forget your nasty experience. It'll be good for you."
I glided close, terribly aware of how right she was. Zoe was lovely, a lovely woman quite aside from her goddess status. Nice and clean and perfumed. Not fat, just voluptuous. In her embrace I could wash away any bitter memory.
True, I was used to telling her how beautiful she was. And used to showing her. All part of the ritual, our own private ritual. I had done it so often. But this time as her legs angled up and open to receive me, my response wasn't just a conditioned reflex. It wasn't automatic, it was real. With this unique female I felt safe and snug and sheltered and very much in love. Even a little bit grateful ...
"Aren't you glad, Dana? Aren't you glad it's me?" Then, a long and delicious moment later, "Mmm, darling, you are glad."
"I love you."
"Hmm. I wonder. Do you love me enough?"
"Enough? Enough for what?"
"Darling, listen. I've got a little confession to make. Promise you won't get mad?"
"A confession? How can I promise if-oh, all right, go ahead and confess. I could never be angry with you anyway. I promise. What's on your mind?"
"Well ... "
"Hey, is this going to take very long? If so, I can listen just as respectfully with a lovely mouthful."
"Oooh, sexy! Sexy little cuntlapper. Okay, I'll make it short tonight and _we can chew on it tomorrow."
"I'm already chewing."
"So I notice. Be still now. Kid? I played a little trick on you awhile ago. Blanche Fuller has connections with a lot of rich dykes, that's why I asked you to be nice to her. I'm definitely going into the business."
"I see. And what if she asks for me again?"
"No dice. Unless she's willing to pay the price. One freebie is all that old bag gets, don't worry."
"I'd say one is too much. She called me a whore. You really ought to charge her for tonight."
"Yeah. Maybe you're right. Wouldn't that be something? No freebies for nobody. Tell you what, kiddo, I'll put a little pressure on tomorrow and con her out of some money for you. See how easy it is? You come for a visit and already you're getting rich. But never mind the money now, let's get to the visit. No more confessions, just lots of love from my lovin' baby. Eat me, you sexy little slut, suck my cunt, suck it good."
Her perfume had worn off. She smelled of woman. For a moment I was reminded of fat Blanche in there, the suffocating odor of her sweaty skin. But this wasn't a tub of lard, this was my adored goddess, the sexiest cunt in the world! And she still meant everything to me even though I had just heard her talk about selling my body to a lesbian. With more to come. More lesbians, more sales, more money rolling in ...
The smell didn't matter now. Bathed or not, perfumed or not, I just didn't care. She smelled of Zoe. And I loved it. I loved wallowing in the musky essence of her flesh. I loved sucking her cunt and listening to all that noise up there, all that sighing and moaning; it drove me wild now, even more than usual. I lavished all kinds of mouth caresses on her, sucking the start of her climax right to the surface. It worked, too, hitting her with a great big bang, oh yes, it sure worked just fine. For her.
But not for me. It just wasn't there! She groaned once and then collapsed. I tried to go on, hoping for the release my body craved. The release I had grown accustomed to, where was it, what happened to the big beautiful thrill?
"Kid ... "
"Mmm?"
"Stop."
"Hmmm?"
"No more, darling."
"Uh-huh."
"Didn't you hear me? Dana!"
"Please ... "
Silence. Thick silence. I attacked her moist flesh. The sensitive spots, the tiny nerve centers that she had taught me were so important. If I could just keep this up she would get excited again and then maybe ...
"Hey! What? Oh shit, I was almost asleep. Must you keep on like that, darling?" Her body folded in drowsy dismissal. "But I do owe you something, I guess. Go ahead if you like, but don't expect any help from me. I'm sleepy, so sleepy ... "
It was an all-night invitation, the one I had hoped for earlier. I turned it down, though. All night and into next week, it still wasn't going to do me much good. I didn't feel like a lesbian anymore. And certainly not a lesbian whore. Let fat Blanche have her freebie; I was out of business as of this minute. Time to get out of this room, too. Out of the apartment. Out onto the street where some kindly cabdriver might-for a small fee-condescend to take me where I wanted to go. Where I might even spend the rest of my life. Oh no, not in a hotel; wasn't there a great big old mansion out in Denver? But to the hotel first, of course-and without wasting a phone call-dear old Jerome wouldn't mind. After all, I still hadn't answered him and he had been absolutely sweet about not pestering me. Take all the time you need, darling. Which was just time enough to kick the habit, the lovely lesbian habit that wasn't so lovely anymore. Hooray! And off to Jerome's hotel now; what blushing young maiden would even dream of accepting a marriage proposal over the telephone?
And so Jerome and I were married and lived happily ever after. Well, no, not quite. But we didn't do badly either. I got a little restless after a while, a little bored with my sex life. In bed my husband was a perfect gentleman and an accomplished nibbler, but a steady diet of anything can get to be a drag, and pretty soon the excitement was missing. Out of bed he was the dearest and sweetest of men, though, a perfect husband, much too fine to cheat on, and I avoided the sly young studs of Denver society and remained true to my marital vows. I just couldn't hurt the guy.
Only it was hurting me, naturally, and after due deliberation I finally came up with an idea that sounded just silly enough to work. What if it turned out that both of us were at least mildly interested in lesbians and such? A lot of men are like that; why not my Jerome? Wouldn't it be fun to toy with the idea of a threesome? Or if it went smoothly enough, I might even hire a cute young lezzie as a servant in the house, my very personal maid; wouldn't that be a kick?
Great idea. Only I got cold feet and just couldn't figure out a way to broach it to Jerome. Not without confessing my own lesbian past, anyway, and that-was taboo. I was willing to confess my "interest" and try to intrigue him in that direction, no more. But I was even dubious about going that far without some favorable sign, afraid that it might shock him and weaken our marriage. What I needed was someone with more knowledge on the subject, someone who could show me how to go about it ...
Someone like Zoe Madrigal, naturally.
I accompanied my husband on his next New York business trip, ostensibly on a shopping spree but pretty keyed-up about this secret project of mine. Only I wound up doing a lot of shopping, as luck would have it, my old friend Zoe had gotten into a minor hassle with the law and was now living outside the country, beyond the reach of the long arm. I got most of the information, along with her phone number down there south of the border-just in case!-from our old madam. (Who missed us both very much; the girls today are all dope addicts, so undependable!) Anyway, the trip was a howling failure and I went back to Denver exasperated.
Exasperated but not defeated. Didn't the company have an office in Mexico City? And couldn't we make a holiday out of the next business trip there? Oh, it would be fun to spend some time in one of those wicked towns; I was just dying to see Tijuana.
Okay, so I was hoodwinking Jerome all that time, getting the journey organized oh-so-casually, but it was only for his own good. For the good of our marriage. Better yet, I could safely introduce Zoe as an old friend in Tijuana, then she could talk to him in person and size up the general prospects. And so off we went, bag and baggage, Mr. and Mrs. Jerome Ackroyd, typical Yankee tourists in search of sin and such. Some of which we found in the Blue Grotto, just enough to whet a true sinner's appetite. Although I was fast becoming convinced that my husband just didn't have the prerequisite sinful nature to begin with. Maybe I would do better dropping the scheme and starting from scratch.
Still, after coming this far, if I didn't try to get in touch with Zoe it would be a sign of weakness. Not that I was afraid of her, really, but my nerves did get a bit edgy once we got this close-not paranoid, just apprehensive. Which was why even the comparatively tame Blue Grotto had looked like a hangout for junkies and rapists and TV repairmen last night. For a while, at least, until I glanced around and saw all those other tourists peering at us in that same furtive way. Edgy or not, though, I couldn't chicken out on that phone call.
I rang her in the afternoon while Jerome was napping and got lucky the very first buzz. Zoe was overjoyed to hear from me after all this time; and of course we ought to get together as soon as possible. I gave her only a brief rundown on the plan to "corrupt" my husband, figuring on a more thorough airing later on; and could we all meet for a drink tonight?
Fine. Except that she wasn't free until late; wouldn't it be best if she just met us someplace? I suggested the Blue Grotto for no reason but its familiarity-and perhaps Jerome would feel complimented by my corroboration of his choice of nightspots. Anyway, we left it like that and I began getting nervous again. Only I didn't know just how much I had to be nervous about!
Late in the afternoon Jerome got a wire from his Mexico City office-things were in a mess there and could he come for a few days right away and finish his vacation later? He could, of course, but would probably be working day and night, so why didn't I remain here in Tijuana and see the sights till he got back? See the sights, but stay out of trouble, little girl. Oh shit, if he only knew! I had seen myself face to face in the Blue Grotto last night-my lesbian self-and the secret was becoming an awfully heavy burden, too heavy for one small wife to bear.
Once again I almost chickened out. Almost but not quite. Zoe and I hugged and kissed like old friends and then sat down and watched the show. With plenty of booze, natch. She didn't tell me what business she was in down here. Nor did I get around to any lengthy discussion of my husband. No, we just sat there and got drunk and felt each other up under the table and fell in love all over again. Just like that. Maybe it was the influence of the strippers that got me so darn sexy; Zoe knew them all by name and described their unseen talents to me during each act. Pretty soon I got darn near hot enough to duck under the table myself. Fingers were okay, but my mouth was parched for a sip of cunt, the genuine stuff. And I realized how much excitement had passed me by in the snug security of my marriage. Too much. A young kid like me?
"Zoe, I just decided something. I'm going to divorce Jerome and come live with you."
"Don't be a goddam fool. He's got money, hasn't he? And you'll get a chunk of it some day, right?"
"Uh-huh. A great big chunk."
"How's his health?"
"So-so. I think he's got some kind of heart condition."
"Kid? And you want to walk out on that? You only hit the jackpot once, baby, stick with this one. That's good advice."
"I-I suppose so. But never seeing you or hearing from you-"
"The hell you say. You'll be hearing from me plenty. And maybe seeing me, too, if it can be arranged. I'm on your side from now on, sweetie. I don't have that many rich friends, you know. Or rich lovers, that's for sure. Only you. And I'm going to wait it out with you, year by year. Or maybe just month by month, if we can find some way to speed things up a little."
I knew what she meant. That was all we said about it, but we both understood. It felt pretty weird to be sitting so calmly after such a bombshell. The murder of my own husband? Zoe was telling me about one of the strippers, the tall blonde, a German girl named Lorelei. She had a tongue that stretched a half inch beyond any other among the local lesbian belles; would I like to go backstage and meet her? My mind was still shaking after the bombshell and I just shrugged and dug a little deeper into the nice softness under the table. That helped. It helped even more when I pulled my hand out and stuck those nice cunty-wet fingers in my mouth and licked them clean. My mind was crisp and clear now; I knew exactly where I stood.
"Tastes better than ever."
"Yeah? Glad to have your expert opinion, kid."
"Darling, listen. You know what's going to happen when I get rich? The first thing I'm going to do? Buy you a ring, the biggest ruby ring in the world."
"It won't have to be that big. Just big enough. But if it comes from you ... well ... "
"Hmm?"
"Have it made up as a toe-ring. Yeah. And then you can go down on your knees and put it on me yourself."
"Hush. You'll have me creaming in my panties."
"Hey, let's have a party tonight. We'll invite the strippers-they're always great fun. The young redhead, Estrellita, that's her name, the one that bounces around like a cheerleader-she's got the tiniest cunt this side of the border. Cutest little thing, tight enough to squeeze your tongue, you know?"
"I like Pilar best."
"Spoken like a true cuntlapper. You've got good taste, kiddo. Come on, let's go backstage now and you can compliment Pilar yourself, she'll just love it. Vain bitch. And we'll see if they want to swing at a party later."
"Oh. Do you think we ought to-"
"Besides, the dressing room toilet is cleaner and more private than the public one. And believe me, I gotta go. Come on, wiggle your pretty ass, the least you can do is keep me company."
I knew only too well what that innocent remark meant. But I was already up and on my feet and wiggling my ass, no longer just a mere tourist in this sin-bin. About to meet the magnificent Pilar. And gorgeous Lorelei and little Estrellita with the cute cunt and that plump one, the peasant with the big tits, Carmen; oh shit, it was fun to get out of the tourist crowd. Backstage at the Blue Grotto, imagine! I only hoped the dressing room toilet was big enough for two. But of course it could be if Zoe had suggested the idea ...
Just hidden from the audience, she swung around and stared into my eyes. Then she smiled slyly and I felt a hot-and-cold thrill streak through me as her words warmed my ear:
"When it happens-you know?-I'll have a little gift for you, too. No ruby, nothing elaborate. Just a pretty silver chain for your wrists."
