"You're driving me wild, lover." The words had their intended effect, the same words she had used with a hundred boys in a hundred parked cars, but somehow she seemed to be saying them for the first time. "You're driving me absolutely wild! Love me, love me, oh, I'm getting so hot!" Somehow they were affecting her own passion, too, sending her senses soaring beyond anything so simple as the feeling of a mouth on her tits. Although she did remain very much aware of that, naturally, the sensation of her swollen tits aroused to the bursting point by that lesbian mouth with its lesbian lips and lesbian tongue and lesbian know-how; oh shit, if only she had found this out years ago! What a waste!
Chapter 1
The shop emptied out toward evening-no buyers, no browsers, not even a belated greeting-card customer. Alone at last, the anxious proprietor retired to the back room to unfold her letter and look at it for the umpteenth time: Hazel, you sexy bitch, how the hell are you!
Sexy bitch. What a salutation! Hazel Guthrie smiled and shook her head; who but Rowena could call her a sexy bitch and make her like it? Then again, who but Rowena knew? No one, no one at all, thank heaven, especially where it mattered most-right here in prim Carvel City ...
Not that people were so straitlaced, actually, but wasn't gossip a problem in any small town? A problem subject to tradition, naturally, yes indeed, a glandular-type country club matron might gamble and win-or survive at least; it happened every spring!-but woe betide the poor school teacher caught with her panties down. Or librarian. Or a bachelor girl bookstore proprietor, surely, and Hazel wasn't taking any chances. In the three years since buying and remodeling the old Carvel Bookshop, she had managed to avoid even a whisper of scandal. Every cent she had in the world was tied up in the business, a growing little business in a good little town; why risk it all for some silly indiscretion?
Playing her role to perfection, she was careful to look the part as well as live it, toning down her natural "come hither" charm to present a comparatively drab appearance. She dressed in clothing that fit her figure without advertising its opulence. Her velvety brown eyes were big and widely spaced; with some judicious penciling and shadowing they could easily have turned seductive. Her lips were soft and full and delicately formed, the kind that could have been downright alluring with the proper use of lip-rouge. And a skilled hairdresser could have worked wonders with her healthy crop of dark brown hair, certainly-but such miracles never came to pass and the good people of Carvel City saw their "bookshop lady" only as a nice but somewhat mousy intellectual. An image she had chosen deliberately and now hoped to maintain.
Only how long would that image last with Rowena around? Was she really serious about coming here? Buying property here? The letter was cause for anxiety at least, if not for genuine alarm. Hazel shuddered, recalling the woman's influence on her life with mingled fear and excitement. The memory still haunted her, the early memories most of all, oh yes, who but Rowena Kyle had a right to call her a sexy bitch?
The relationship began in their high school days, that part of it anyway, although they had known each other since childhood. They were sixteen at the time-sixteen and boy-crazy-spending the night together after a double date that left them both quite keyed-up. The boys were gone and the house was quiet, but somehow the bed just didn't feel roomy enough for two wide awake and jittery girls to fall asleep in. After a while they got tired of whispering and giggling, too, but still not tired enough to drop off-and that was when Rowena spoke up and made everything between them change all of a sudden. Although it seemed pretty natural even then, of course. Especially since they had always been such close friends ...
"Hazel? I'm not the least bit sleepy, are you: Let's do something, huh? Let's have some fun."
"I'm not sleepy, either. But it's too late to go downstairs now, unless you want to raid the refrig-"
"Oh shit, who needs food? Tell you what, let's fool around a little. You know. Like with the boys tonight. You be my date and I'll be yours, okay?"
It sounded a bit childish, almost like the Mommy and Daddy games that Hazel had played years ago, way back in the second or third grade, just kid stuff, really. But she couldn't remember ever playing that kind of game with Rowena, though; come to think of it, they hadn't started hanging around together until the fifth grade or thereabouts, long after those kid games had been outgrown and forgotten. So maybe this would be different, maybe they wouldn't just suck tongues or something like that, maybe Rowena had some other idea. Anyway, what was the harm?
"Okay. How do we begin?"
"Beats me. I've never been a boy."
They both giggled at that, but then their bodies cuddled closer and the giggling stopped of its own accord. And even when it began again-giggle, giggle, giggle-the sound was kind of nice, kind of like tinkling bells. Much too noisy, though, and Hazel knew of only one sure way to shut it off. Kid stuff or not, she smothered the laughter in a mouth-to-mouth kiss.
An instant later they touched tongue to tongue, and with a single explosive gasp that came from both their throats, the kiss became hot and deep. There was no letup. Not for a long time. Hazel got a strong sexy feeling, stronger than with a boy even, and she rubbed and ground against the soft belly underneath hers. But the feeling seemed to make it worse; there was something missing somehow, something she couldn't understand, something she had to do. Now even the sliding and squirming of their entwined tongues was making her all the more conscious of it, this strange unsatisfied urge that she couldn't quite cope with. Their breasts were mashing up tight, too, and that kept on even after they had to end the kiss to pant for breath. She wondered if poor Rowena was having the same kind of trouble, panting so hard like that. She hoped so, Maybe they could look for a solution to their problem together. Anyway, she wasn't at all surprised to hear Rowena ask for help.
"Oooh, my tits, my tits, I think the nipples are going to bust wide open. Kiss 'em for me, will you? I'll scream if you don't."
No need to scream, Hazel figured, and she grazed one nipple with her lips and then sucked it into her mouth. Something weird happened then and she forgot all about her old problem and lost herself in the thrill of a new pleasure. It was almost numbing, mind-boggling, the way it struck and took hold, and her only worry now was that she might not get enough of this exciting taste, enough to appease her enormous hunger. But there was plenty, of course- wasn't Rowena's entire body like that?-and she went on kissing and licking and sucking and just loving the whole thing. Only this time, somehow, the request for help really did take her by surprise.
"My cunt ... do my cunt ... kissss ... "
Cunt! It came as a shock-the sound of it, not the reality-after all, she was already doing it, wasn't she? I'm kissing Rowena's cunt. And then a moment later it wasn't so shocking anymore, just another step in the right direction, another dimension to the unending excitement. The cunty taste, the smell. the hair tickling her nose and cheeks and chin-so cunty, her cunt, I'm sucking her cunty cunt!-the deep slit opening around her face, all warm and moist and slippery and impossibly soft inside; was there ever such a thrill? Had she ever known anything so marvelous as Rowena's cunt? Never. Not even in her wildest dreams! Even the smooth thighs around her neck were a source of pleasure, choking her with their love. She wanted to stay there and suck forever, afraid only that the ecstasy of this exquisite moment might never be recaptured ...
But such fears proved to be groundless, as it turned out, and from that day on, heart and soul, she belonged to beautiful blond Rowena, worshipping at her shrine like a lesbian slave madly in love with her lesbian goddess. A shrine that made her ever welcome, luckily, and she drenched herself in the flood of its erotic rapture again and again in the years that followed. But a slave is always at a disadvantage in such an affair, powerless to break the spell-and her capricious goddess soon asked for more than just love and worship, sometimes making demands that went beyond the bounds of reason. Rowena's inherently vicious nature craved constant novelty, and Hazel's obedience to her arrogant will was put to the test and sorely tried all too often. Sorely, ah yes, sorely indeed, considering the intensity of such occasions, the ever-increasing depth of her submission even when the cruel penchant of her goddess for inflicting pain and punishment seemed well-nigh insatiable. But that too, oddly enough, became less shocking in time, and so Hazel discovered other undreamed-of joys, the joy hidden in the swing of a strong right arm, for instance, hardly joyous at all in a way, and yet somehow terribly exciting and almost comparable to that very special joy to be found in the sweet kiss of soft silk-fringed cunt-lips between scented cream-sleek thighs. Until at last she began to fear for her sanity and was actually relieved when her friend and lover and imperious mistress of long standing left the old hometown to seek her fortune in the metropolitan jungles of New York. In the cosmetics industry, to be exact, just the career for a woman of such inner strength and outward sophistication. A wise decision, as it happened, and Hazel had long since gotten over the mixture of lonely tears and sighs of relief that kept her awake at night after their parting.
Rowena Kyle was an important businesswoman now, high-ranking and respected and probably more imperious than ever, certainly a creature far superior to a spinsterish small-town bookseller who looked like a librarian beyond reclaim. Nevertheless, despite her admittedly lowly station in life, Hazel was happy here in Carvel City and had no wish to see her means of livelihood jeopardized by a visit from her lofty girlhood friend. Nor was it just a visit, apparently, not if there was any truth to the letter; oh dear, was Rowena really serious about buying ancient Summertree manor?
So it appeared. According to the letter, her agent in New York had already made firm contact with Bert Woodruff, the local real estate dealer who handled all of Carvel City and a goodly portion of the surrounding county. Summertree was out on the old North Trail, a road no longer in use much or even kept in repair since the new highway came through on the other side of town. Worse yet, the huge house was set back in a kind of wilderness almost, denying access to all but the most hardy; it had been vacant and up for sale ever since the passing of its vulnerable pioneer-stock patriarch some years ago, an event that triggered the immediate exodus of his more socially attuned heirs. Which made it a white elephant, practically, but wouldn't that just cut the price to a bargain level for someone who was really interested? So maybe Rowena wasn't kidding about this latest notion of hers-investing her surplus capital in such a patently farfetched venture, a private and expensive health-and-beauty farm for women. For that sort of operation the secluded woodland atmosphere would be a help rather than a hindrance, of course, and even the substandard road conditions wouldn't figure as any major drawback. Oh, it sounded feasible enough on the surface-and strictly legit, too, except that Hazel couldn't miss reading between the lines and drawing a less serene conclusion.
Health farm? Hardly! Private and expensive and for women only, sure, but she could easily see it through Rowena's shrewd eyes; hadn't the idea already been broached whimsically but far more explicitly in one of her earlier letters? A sexy sanctuary, an intimately exclusive little pleasure resort-"just us girls"-a happy hunting ground for lesbians?
The thought turned Hazel's stomach queasy. She just didn't care to risk the loss of her business, much less the trauma of watching her hard-earned moral repute go down the drain. And yet she recognized a certain perverse stimulation in her predicament, an impatience to begin despite the known danger. Or because of the danger, perhaps, the known and unknown dangers implicit in the renewal of that bygone relationship. As though the danger itself, latent, lurking-quite aside from the tangible excitement of crawling between those long slim legs! -had somehow achieved a uniquely pertinent and pervasive significance. It was bound to affect her existence in some devious way, this ominous acknowledgement of a struggle for her soul, the challenge of sex to her precious security. If nothing else, it was bound to give her a fine case of nerves ...
A faint jingle sounded from out front and shook Hazel free of her introspective trance. Customer at the door. And so near closing time, too. Briskly she straightened up and strode out of the back room, aware even now of a sense of edgy involvement, a feeling that wavered between anticipation and apprehension. Foolish, to say the least, since the customer was probably some doddering old dullard in search of a last-minute birthday card.
Her guess hit the mark only once, though-the girl was a dullard, sure enough, but she showed no sign of moving toward the prominently displayed greeting cards. Red-haired and rather pretty in a garish manner, Luanne Stroud was a high school kid who had grown up too fast in the wrong direction. Her bosom had developed well ahead of her brain, a sad phenomenon that brought the boy yokels hovering around like fruit flies abuzz over the ripe remains of a week-long honeydew melon sale. At the moment, however, the giddy little youngster seemed quite alone-and what she was doing in a bookstore was more than Hazel could determine without some definite clue.
"Hello there, Luanne. Something I can do for you? Don't tell me you're taking up reading."
"Oh. Hi, Hazel. Well, yes. I just might. If you've got the kind of book I'm looking for."
"I've got all kinds, all sizes and shapes. Give me a hint and maybe I'll find something to suit your tastes. But I was just about to close up, dear, so ... "
"Hmmm, that's right, this is your closing time, isn't it? Why don't you just go ahead, huh? Just leave me enough light to look around while you're finishing up."
"Fine. That's sweet of you." Hazel began her round of nightly check-out chores. "But if you don't see what you want, just ask for it. I'm still in business, don't hesitate to call on me."
"Uh-huh. Thanks."
A few minutes later the work was done and Hazel switched the lights off one by one, starting with the big show-windows and finally coming down to the single bulb over the shelves that held Luanne's attention. Circled by shadow and illuminated from above, the tousled red hair was suddenly quite beautiful, almost breathtaking in its refracted glow. Like a reddish gold halo.
But it wasn't a halo and Luanne Stroud was no angel. Especially not tonight, considering which bookshelf she had gravitated toward. The sex books. Marriage manuals and the like. Inconspicuous "how to" books in starkly simple wrappers. All with scholarly texts and unimpeachably pure of purpose, nothing like the few pieces of classic hard-core stuff tucked away in the back room (a smattering of pornography for the middle-aged local merchants who treasured their source and could be trusted to keep a genteel bookshop lady's secret from reaching the gossip grapevine). But even so, it was incongruous to see that childishly pretty face gazing with such pensive scrutiny at a shelf of ovulation-and-orgasm studies. At the Carvel City public library, Masters and Johnson just couldn't be squeezed into the yearly budget somehow, and even timeworn old Kinsey was considered a bit raffish. For most schoolgirls, the stork theory was still in vogue.
"Find what you want, Luanne?"
"Huh? Oh gosh, you've already got the lights out. Uh, no, I guess not, at least not exactly. And you know something? I've got to admit it, I'm just too darn embarrassed to ask."
A rush of compassion overwhelmed Hazel. The poor sweet darling, imagine, looking for information and ashamed even to ask. And unable to turn to her mother either, no doubt. The Widow Stroud was wealthy but not very bright. Nor was she even available, for that matter, gallivanting around Europe much of the time with a dozen streamer trunks and two French poodles and a change of lovers-as often as her underwear, according to rumor!-leaving her only child in the custody of some elderly household servants. Not very bright at all ...
"Luanne dear, are you-are you in trouble?"
"Trouble? Oh, that. No. Of course not. I know how to take care of myself. No, it's something else."
Hazel slumped limply into the stiff-backed wooden chair beside the rental library desk. How stupid of her, wasting sympathy on this boy-crazy little slut who probably knew more than most adults about such things, more than any well-intentioned but awkward bookshop lady, certainly. But her curiosity was aroused; just what was it that the kid had been looking for?
"All right, Luanne, either tell me or don't. But I've got to be closing soon, so make up your mind."
"Aw ... don't get mad ... " Wistfully, the youngster swung away from the shelves to move nearer, threading her way through the aisles between the tables of books. "It's just that-well, it's just so darn hard to talk about."
"I'm not mad. Or angry, rather." The small figure was standing over her now, quite close, the forlorn face steeped in shadow but still vaguely visible, a pout on the petulant lips. Hazel caught an unexpected whiff of perfume on the rise, thick, musky, an erotic animal scent that must have been escaping from somewhere underneath that distressingly short skirt. Abruptly uncomfortable, she started to get up. "Let's just forget it, shall we?"
"No. Wait. I'll tell you." A weight clamped upon Hazel's shoulder pushing her back down on the seat of the chair-remarkably stubborn for so tiny a hand, so childishly impatient a gesture. "I guess it's not such a big thing, really, but I'm tired of being teased about it. My boyfriend saw a stag movie last week, the kind where all the fellows chip in and rent a film and projector and stuff, you know? Anyway, he said one of the girls in the flick looked exactly like me, real sexy, and her best scene was with another girl. But then he wouldn't tell me any more, the rat. I mean, he noticed how curious I was and just clammed up to tease me. So I'm not talking to him now, not until he apologizes-only by then I'd like to know more about it than he does-like a real expert maybe, or at least somebody who knows the score, somebody who doesn't need some crummy old skin-flick to explain things. That ought to frost him, huh? So that's what I was looking for, a book about two girls making-"
"Luanne, hush! That type of information is just-"
"Wait. Let me finish. I could guess how it's done and I've heard the kids joke about it, too, but for once in my life I'd just like to be smarter than everybody else, I'd like to be more than just a dumb kid to cop a feel from. So about two girls making love to each other-I want to know what they do, the honest truth. Hazel, what do they do?"
"Young lady, I've heard enough. If I happen to have any such books in stock, you'd never understand them anyhow. The language would be too technical for you."
"Yeah? Okay, so never mind the books then, just tell me about it yourself. Tell me, tell me, please? What can two girls like that really do?" The piping voice sounded a piteous plea for help, and yet vaguely there was a brittle edge cutting through, a hint of something pretentious, the coy cuteness of a spoiled child performing for an audience of doting uncles and aunts.
But this child was close, entirely too close, and Hazel was an audience of one, a prime target for the slightest modulation, the slightest shift in tactics. A vulnerable target, too, she realized to her dismay, aroused in spite of herself by the topic of discussion, the unprecedented intimacy of it-and now even more susceptible to the nameless but familiar scent that kept billowing out and up from inside the daintily snug little skirt to spread and engulf her in a relentless wave of intoxication. Drunken intoxication, no hyperbole, the two-martini limpness of limbs and paralysis of tongue. Only her tongue had to stay under taut control awhile, she had to speak up and end this unseemly pursuit once and for all, otherwise there would be the worst kind of chaos right here in her orderly bookshop-a fine how-do-you-do!
"Luanne, no. I can't tell you, dear. I mustn't ... "
"No? Okay, then, don't tell me, show me!" With a single savage motion, the two small but willful hands tugged at Hazel's head, turning her face into the youthful cleavage of breasts, forcing her lips to meet the flesh exposed above the frilly neckline of the loosely disarrayed blouse.
Stunned, she could offer no resistance. The sheer impetuosity of it, the sudden fury of the girl, the harshly muttered command-an assault on all her senses at once, a broad assault that immediately narrowed its range to a unified impact, the tingling tactile sensation in her lips-and Hazel was drained of all strength. She felt utterly helpless, lost in a kind of floundering panic, struggling only to stay afloat in this treacherous pool of perfume.
"Well? Aren't you going to show me?"
The pressure slackened, but Hazel made no attempt to pull free and clamber to safety, dimly conscious of some obligation she seemed to have taken on. And then, magically, the neckline of the blouse drooped lower and she followed it with her open mouth, awakening slowly to something beyond mere obligation, letting herself be guided toward some unknown delectable treasure. Toward some hidden mystery that was at last being revealed to her. Some wondrously rare something that she must have not been hot on the trail of for a long time, seeking without even recognizing her instinctive need to search.
"Oooh! More. Kiss my tits some more!"
But of course, of course, wasn't that what it was all about? Hearing it spoken aloud gave Hazel confidence, setting her free to do what she was supposed to be doing, free to kiss and lick and suck and thrill to the hot little nipple inside her mouth. Such a delicious excitement, that hot little swollen peak bobbing around and tickling the back of her tongue, way back where she could almost swallow it ...
"Yeah, now you're showing me. About time, huh?" The voice was strident in her ears, brittle again and terribly out of place in this charmed circle of freedom. It just didn't belong. It didn't fit. Not with all this sweet softness. "How come you made such a fuss, that's what I'd like to know. A hot-pants lezzie like you ... "
Hazel went rigid and pulled away; a sob sprang to her lips and sounded its unmuzzled anguish, echoing and re-echoing through the book lined gloom of the shop. Until it was overpowered by a wild peal of laughter-complete with concomitant echo-that persisted throughout Luanne's careening whirl and run, dying only in the slam of the door behind her. The abrupt silence was thick enough to feel, grim to behold. And then, with nausea threatening to churn loose from the pit of her stomach, Hazel saw the three boys materialize out of nowhere. For a long moment-a moment as long as death-they leered through the plate glass window. And at last, with the girl's mouth still open in apparently hysterical hilarity, all four crossed the street jauntily and scampered off.
Pale and mute, Hazel sat and waited for the nausea to ease its noxious threat. It required little imagination to figure out what had happened-the insolent young slut had deliberately put on a show for the spying boys; oh sure, better then television! Or was that a lie too, perhaps? Hmm. Maybe it wasn't so simple. After all, how could the kid have known? How could stupid Luanne Stroud have guessed a secret she had almost forgotten herself? Did it show on her face? In her walk? Her posture? Was she wearing it like a sign that declared her to the world, a big scarlet neon sign?
Hot-pants lezzie ...
When the door opened again Hazel was still sitting there, still queasy about the lingering taint of perfume in the air. The shock of seeing the little monster once more brought her to the brink of a relapse. It was hard to talk and equally hard to listen, but the look of sincerity on that apologetic young face finally registered and demanded her attention. She could hear only a near-incoherent mumble but that was enough: the kid had played along with the boys' idea of a joke only until her own implication suddenly didn't seem so funny. And she had ended the embrace and raced out before the three jokers got within peeping range, covering her exit with that awful laughter just to break away. Nor had she tattled afterward either, divulging nothing more than the slightly varnished account of a "generation gap" argument over who had the right to read sexy books. She was sorry and would never do anything like that again and would Hazel please accept her apology?
Even if that much was only half true, Hazel was already nodding and extending her hand in a gesture of truce. It was taken and firmly squeezed, firmly, warmly; blue eyes aglow, the little rascal turned the handshake into a whole new beginning, wiping the slate clean of old mess. Then, with a demurely girlish giggle-no phony hysterics this time!-she bent from the waist swiftly and placed a kiss on the back of Hazel's hand ...
Later, long after the bright red hair had vanished into the night, Hazel re-examined her priorities and came to a decision. She couldn't afford to let it end here-they had to go all the way now, sharing whatever guilt lay between them. Luanne had discovered her secret, of course; why not take the next step and let it become Luanne's secret, too! Only a lesbian affair now would safely stifle lesbian gossip in the future.
All the way, then. No limits. But it had to be done slowly, gently, almost with a shy show of reluctance. Let the kid herself be the seducer. Hadn't it already begun that way?
Once again, Hazel recognized a sense of edginess, an uneasy feeling of involvement. Now she had two scary but certainly provocative experiences to look forward to. Oh no, she hadn't forgotten the other one; wouldn't it be a weird thrill to see her old lover Rowena again? Rowena of the iron hand. Rowena and her whip! Rowena of the cool audacity and bewitching poise and sophisticated sex technique that made her such an exciting tyrant ...
Shuddering in deliciously tremulous rapture, Hazel pigeonholed her speculative new affair for the moment to ruminate voluptuously among her recollections of the old one. She could almost feel that whip this very minute. Was history about to repeat itself?
Chapter 2
Squinting intently and brushing a lock of dark hair away from her dark eyes, Naomi Woodruff checked the grease-stained' reading on the meat thermometer in the oven. Satisfied, she let the metal door slam shut on its spring hinges-okay, the timing was just about right, Bert was due home in an hour or so and the roast would be done to a turn. Another problem out of the way for the everyday American housewife. (Or was it still "homemaker" in this era of the liberated female?) Another problem in a day that seemed perpetually full of problems ...
Oh shit, that wasn't quite fair, they weren't such big problems and none of them should have really bothered her-in the old days they never had. But in the old days the problems of everyday living had been balanced by its pleasures, and now the pleasures were practically nonexistent. Few and far between, at any rate-which just naturally accentuated the problems, didn't it?
Well, that was what came of marrying an ambitious man. Not that she had anything against ambition, in its proper perspective. There was a time when Bert Woodruff could have been called the ideal husband, an adequate breadwinner at the office, kind and considerate around the house and a spirited lover in bed. Then, the pleasures had come thick and fast and glorious, reducing the problems to mere trivia by comparison. Those irksome frustrations of the day were always melted down in the hot and heartfelt gratifications of the night, melting away to nothing but a fleeting reminder of how lucky any married couple was to have such little trouble. But that was before the money started rolling in. Before the profits from a booming real estate business turned a nice warm lovable guy into a cold and calculating computer.
Hmm. All computer and no cock?
Naomi grinned wanly. That was a bit of an exaggeration-and so was her wallow in self-pity, of course. Other women might have been happy to be in her place, living in a fine house and sending the children to good schools. And busy Bert wasn't completely oblivious to her sexual needs, either-every so often, stimulated by some extra special business deal, he would still summon her to the bedroom for what he referred to as "a little yum-yum." But trim-and-twenty had become fat-and-forty, and the calls in that piquant direction were getting fewer and farther between. Lately, even when it did happen, the result was seldom satisfactory, much less earth-shaking. Five minutes seemed to be all Bert needed to shoot his load, and he was no longer the potent double-barreled marksman of yore, worse luck. Just a single-shot bungler these days-single-shot and small-bore, more's the pity!-hardly better than a flash in the pan.
Which made it rough on Naomi. It took her at least those allotted few minutes to work up a halfway decent head of steam, and by that time the mighty warrior was usually wheezing and rolling over and already beginning to worry about next day's business. No, as a lover her husband was a damned good real estate broker, and wasn't that a fact she might as well learn to live with? Although how any sensuous and still-desirable woman could accustom herself to such a bleak future, well ...
The front door rattled. "Naomi?" She frowned, momentarily startled; what the hell was he doing home this early? "I'm in the kitchen, Bert."
Ruddy and rotund, he came in wearing a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "Hi, honey." He poked a playful finger into her ribs. "Had a good day today. Yessiree, darn good day all around. So I figured maybe I'd knock off early and give the weary old bones a rest. What's for supper?"
"I've got a roast in the oven. But it won't be ready for an hour yet, so you'll just have to wait."
"Fine, fine. That'll give us time for a little drink. How about it, old lady, care to join me?"
"Umm, all right. But none of your bourbon, please. I'll have a glass of sherry."
"Fine, fine. In the living room?"
"Go ahead and pour. I'll be with you in a jiffy." Naomi took another reading of the meat thermometer and then went into the living room. "What was so good about today?" she asked dryly.
"Uh, most everything, I guess." He handed her the sherry and sat down to sip his iceless bourbon. "You know, the Summertree deal, the one I've been working on so long. It's all coming together now, looking better every minute."
"Oh? Is that woman going to buy it?"
"Can't say for sure yet, but she's definitely interested. I heard from her agent again today-nice feller for a New Yorker-he may throw a lot more business my way. Especially since his client really liked the idea I came up with, letting her have the place on trial for a few weeks before deciding yes or no. They've accepted my offer, anyway, she'll be staying at Summertree and inviting her friends and business associates out to look the place over. Sounds like it might be one long party. And that gave me another idea, one that ought to soften her up for the kill. If anything can clinch the deal, this will."
"Do tell. What's your new idea?"
"Well, if she's going to be entertaining guests during the trial period, I figure we ought to do everything possible to keep her expenses down to a minimum. I mean all of us, all the businessmen who stand to gain from a health farm out there, not just me alone. I'll be the first to make money, sure, but they'll get theirs afterward, anybody with something to sell. Think of the milk and eggs and fresh vegetables a place like that will be using, think of the meat deliveries they'll be needing. And all from Carvel City, right? The whole town would benefit if Rowena Kyle decides to buy that property, right?"
"Of course. But I still don't quite-"
"So we ought to do our best to persuade her, we ought to let her know she's welcome here. And the way to do that is to forget profits for a while-just for the free trial, you know?-skip the quick profit and sell her whatever she needs at cost. It'll be food and liquor mainly, but a real big discount could be pretty convincing to someone with half a mind to locate here. So I've got to talk to the boys and get them to see my side of the story now-this isn't just another real estate deal, it's a prospective goldmine. A bonanza for the whole county, maybe."
"Oh. It sounds logical, I'll admit. But you may have trouble winning them over, dear, so don't pin your hopes too high. After all, asking a businessman to forgo his profits ... "
"They'll listen. They'd better! I swing some weight around this burg, and don't you forget it. What the hell, I might even put on enough pressure to get those roads fixed. Or at least patched up a little, that bumpy old North Trail, anyway."
"You'd be foolish to try, wouldn't you? No matter how good your ideas are, everybody is bound to remember exactly who stands to gain most. The real estate broker, who else? Bert Woodruff, the only businessman to make a fast dollar on the deal, the only one not asked to do business just for the sake of doing business. No, dear, my advice is to take it easy."
"Easy, hell! Nothing comes easy. And you needn't be ashamed of the way I operate, either. Pressure is part of the system."
"I'm not ashamed, just upset. Pressure may be part of the system, but it's also bad for your health. Mine too, I guess, sometimes I get pretty nervous when you're all fired up like this. Besides, what's so important about one sale?"
"What's so important? Money, that's what. Dammit, Naomi, you've been picking on me ever since I told you about it. You've been sulky for days, in fact; what's the matter, you got a grudge or something? Not against money, I hope. Because I'll pocket a small fortune if this deal goes through, and that's your money and the kids' money as much as mine. So quit nagging, will you? Otherwise you'll be making me nervous, too. I'm only human, you know."
Naomi hesitated. Then, with a shrug, "So am I, dear. In case you've forgotten. I'm human, too."
"Huh?" He glanced at her quizzically. "I'll be damned. So that's it. Mama just hasn't been getting her share of yum-yum lately, eh? Poor old girl ...
Trapped in the sudden tension, she held her breath and knew only too well what was coming; hadn't her own voice sounded almost like an invitation? A proposition, practically. And now that the response appeared to be forming and gathering momentum, there was no way of stopping it. Not that she really wanted to stop, of course, even though it would probably turn into a fiasco for her. Bad as it might flop, some sex was better than none at all.
He leaned over and kissed her, his wet mouth wide open and reeking of bourbon. "Uh-huh. Come on, baby." His hand slid down her arm to circle tightly on her wristbones. "I know how to fix what's ailing you."
"You mean now, Bert? But we can't. I've got a roast in the oven that ought to be checked for-"
"Now or never. You've got to catch me in the right mood. I'm not as young as I used to be, so let's have no excuses, huh?" He chuckled and tugged her upright. "Come on. In the den. It won't take long."
She followed him meekly, puzzled by the disinterested core of awareness inside herself, a sensation of half desire and half disgust that amounted to something like sheer apathy. Once settled in the tiny room off the kitchen, she submitted to his immediately avid pawing with a semblance of good grace. Two or three times he touched her in almost the right places, and she could feel a certain excitement spreading from his fingers. But it was no damn good -can't you tell an itty-bitty clitoris from a great big cunt, you oaf?-he kept losing his way somehow, either from unsound knowledge or out of listless negligence, an apathy of his own, perhaps.
"I just don't feel up to it, Bert. And neither do you, I'll bet, isn't that the truth? We're both getting old."
Oh sure, she could have faked the symptoms of pleasure easily enough, and this in turn would have aroused him. But she was sick and tired of his fumbling her into frustration; wasn't it time he recognized that well-known womanly complaint? Time he did something about it, damn his insensitive hide!- time he found out that every wife rated an orgasm now and then, the kind of happiness that money simply couldn't buy. High time. Or else maybe she would just go ahead and do something about it herself! Her body was still in pretty good shape, knock wood, and there were plenty of young studs around town who gave her the eye when she breezed by ...
Naomi shivered. The thought frightened her, sending a chill down her spine. No! What was she thinking of? No, she couldn't do anything like that, play around with other men. In all the years of their marriage-for better or for worse-she had never cheated on her husband. Never!
"Getting old, eh?" Bert's eyes were glaring. "I'll show you who's getting old." Brusquely, he clutched the back of her neck and shoved her to the floor. And then with both hands gouging into the hinges of her jaws, he bore down grimly and pried her clenched teeth apart in reaction to the viselike grip, forcing her mouth open and vulnerable to the thrust of his unzipped flesh. "There! Does that feel old to you?"
She gagged a little, a mild reflex to the physical touch and taste, sickened more by his obvious anxiety to prove himself. His demand for her services was rooted in anger, not sexual passion, an anger that fed upon his own weaknesses. This would arouse him, but its very need was a defeat, an admission of impotence, a sign of the selfsame "old age" that he was still protesting.
A revulsion filled her-not for what she was doing, but for the guy himself, this fatuous husband of hers. For his bragging and bullying. For his lack of manliness. For his smug little bigoted mind, in itself enough to drive a faithful wife out to seek some extra marital source of stimulation. Oh shit, she had an urge to teach him a lesson right then and there, a little scrape-and-nick of her sharp teeth maybe, now that those pudgy fingers were no longer stabbing at her jaws. He was fucking her mouth with great confidence now, a conquering hero taking pride in the certainty of his conquest; wouldn't it serve him right to bite down and draw blood out of that big bloated thing he was so proud of?
But no, it would be just too darn messy. And too primitive, of course, a vengeance scarcely more civilized than its victim. No, there had to be other ways to get back at him, other ways to even the score ...
Other ways?
What other ways?
And then, abruptly, as though it had struck like a brand-new idea and not an old worn-out fantasy, Naomi discarded a few irksome and inhibiting morals to make room for her lovely inspiration. Let the revenge be a private and personal matter, unknown even to her stupid husband. Just a little plain and fancy cheating then, very discreet and with an eye toward the exotic, a world apart from real estate and roasts in the oven. Let it be hot and sexy and a step beyond reality. Let it be soon .
Hmm. A nice fresh-faced young boy? Of course! Rick Madigan-just a year out of high school and still undecided about college-the kind of kid who would probably be around for a long time. Long enough to teach and train and mold into whatever image might best enhance the possibilities of her erotic pleasure-dome. And the way he looked at her, well, he'd come running if she so much as snapped her fingers and winked at him. Oh shit, it was working already, her mouth was like a fucked cunt, a hot sexy cunt, just as hot and sexy as the hot sexy cunt between her legs; oh yes, fuck me, fuck me!
Somewhere in the distance, her husband loosed a groan. But Naomi was much too occupied to pay him any heed, too wrapped up in this new and deliciously daring project of hers. Even with her eyes shut and her mouth full and the roast probably burning to a crisp, she could see that smooth and supple young body poised on the springboard in the shimmering lakeside sunlight, the most beautiful young man in all Carvel City, the golden boy of her dream-come-true ...
"You may go in now, Miss Farnum."
"Thanks."
"This way, please. The second door."
Audrey nodded. Private office, naturally, interview in the inner sanctum-as expected. Private interview in the private office of the high and mighty Ms. Rowena Kyle. Only she hadn't figured on such a quiet businesslike atmosphere; it was just too darn dignified, hardly the circumstances for hiring a whore. It made her wonder if the secretary knew- the voice, the attitude, so cool and condescending- or was that just the usual frosty politeness of the business world?
Head and shoulders erect, Audrey uncoiled and rose to her feet slowly, almost lazily, letting the babe at the desk know she didn't give a damn. A hooker, sure, but she wasn't going to be stigmatized and scorned for it, not by some flunky. She ambled off in the proper direction, purposely avoiding the error of pausing to check her hair and makeup. That was for secretaries. An efficient hooker did her checking well in advance and then relied on self-confidence to carry her through. Audrey harbored no doubts about her appearance-luminous green eyes and "casually" tousled auburn hair, a pretty face and a perfect figure-no, she was one of the lucky ones, the kind of girl who couldn't make an awkward or ungainly gesture even if she tried. The kind of girl who instilled desire in every man that looked at her. And in a number of women, too, although then the desire was often accompanied by a touch of envy. Absolutely stunning, really, and self-assured despite the creepy atmosphere.
But there was more to this gig than just looks, though. Or so she had been given to understand-a need for her services that went beyond the ordinary, a need for her brains as well as her body, a need for her own special wisdom, the type of wisdom acquired only through experience. Somehow, intuitively, she had a feeling that this particular interview could mean a lot to her, perhaps even some sort of turning point in her life; anyway, she was sure approaching it with a sense of excitement. A novelty in itself, almost.
"Ah, there you are, Miss ... uh ... "
"Farnum. But why be formal? Call me Audrey."
"Good for you! Direct and to the point. I rather like that, my dear. As a matter of fact, I like you. Do sit down, please."
"Thanks. I appreciate your candor, Miz Kyle. As you say, direct and to the point. Okay. In that case, you'll forgive me if I get myself oriented first. Aside from ... well, you know what I mean ... aside from that, is it true you're planning to open a resort for women? And if it's none of my business, just tell me to shut up."
"Such a pretty girl? How could I ever be that rude to you; ask me anything and I'll give you an answer. Yes, it's true about the resort. Only it's still just the germ of an idea, it hasn't even reached the planning stage yet."
"Your idea, then. Like a health farm? A place for fat women who come to diet and exercise and lose weight?"
"No, not exactly. I'll have to call it that, I suppose. Hmph! Health farm. Sounds so dreary. I'm new at this, though, so that's one of the things I'll want advice about. At any rate, it will be a health farm only to those on the outside. Or a beauty spa, perhaps, something to include skinny women along with the fat ones. Just as long as they're rich women, of course-that's my only criterion- rich enough to pay for a good time. Because it'll be a pleasure resort inside. And by pleasure I mean sex."
"Uh-huh. How about the help then? Women only, same as the clientele? Or are you thinking of having a few men around, some jocks and gigolos maybe ... "
"Good question. Hmm. I hadn't even considered it. Just gay women, that was my idea. Lesbians looking for action. But if men are necessary for such an operation ... " Rowena Kyle shrugged, her expression somber. "I-I just don't know. Which means that I really do need advice, expert advice apparently." Then, smiling, "All right, my dear, suppose you answer that question. Let me conduct the interview, for a change-what's your opinion, men or no men?"
"No men. Definitely. There's money in them, I'll admit, but they can cause trouble too, bad trouble-I've seen it happen at some of the places I worked for. And in the long run you'll make up for it anyway. You can be more exclusive and cater to a better class of customer after the word gets around. There's always a kind of whorehouse atmosphere where men are involved, some stink in the air that offends a truly sensitive woman. It's just not 'as discreet, somehow."
"I see your point. You sound almost bitter, though -I gather you don't care much for men. Uh, wouldn't that same whorehouse atmosphere prevail regardless? Even without males on the premises, we'd still be in the business of selling sex, wouldn't we?"
"It's just different, Miz Kyle, it's different with just girls around. You can have a whole squad of sexy young dolls to entertain the guests, and nobody will think of them as whores. They're so easy to disguise, much easier than men. Put a cute bit of fluff in costume and right away she becomes a maid or a waitress or a sweet little bellhop with shiny brass buttons. Or a hostess, maybe. Or even some kind of ... well ... "
"Audrey? I'm still listening. Do go on."
"Well, it's just a thought. I doubt if it's ever been done before-my own idea, you know? If I ever got enough money together to go into business for myself."
"Oh. Perhaps you'd rather not tell-"
"It's okay, no big secret, nothing I can't talk about. You might think it's silly, though, so just remember I'm offering this as a suggestion only, not expert advice. Anyway, if it was up to me, the kids would look like slaves. I'd dress them all in tunics, just short tunics and maybe sandals on their-"
"Slaves'!"
"Uh-huh. Pretty silly, I guess. Just an idea."
"I-I'm still absorbing it."
"Like in ancient Rome, that sort of thing-the wealthy matron attended by her loyal young slave girls-oh, I can just picture it in a gay pleasure resort, can't you? Every guest with a pretty pink-cheeked lesbian slave kneeling at her feet ready to obey any command, can't you just see it?"
"Umm, yes. Charming ... "
"Glad you agree. I'm full of ideas like that. The kinky stuff, I mean-and that's what goes over big these days."
"Yes. I'm sure you'll be a great help to me, Audrey. Provided everything else works out, of course. And we'll know more about that only if I take you along on this mountain holiday trip, so let's get the preliminary details settled first, shall we? My purpose is to check on a piece of property there, a country estate that could be a wild bargain if it's suitable. I'm going to stay at least two weeks, possibly longer, so it really will be a holiday for me-and I do want to make it a good one. And that's where you come in, my dear, I'll be needing your companionship as well as your advice. Not that I'm worried about getting lonesome exactly not with half of Manhattan coming out on weekends. But if I were to take a pretty girl along, some amiable girl who would do her best to make my holiday perfect- someone like yourself, let's say-well, I'm sure we could arrange something to our mutual satisfaction."
"Okay by me. Consider it arranged."
"But-but we haven't discussed-"
"Please. Can't we just let it ride? You've .been nice to me so far, I'd rather bank on your generosity and leave the financial arrangements up to you. So right now it's just a question of do we or don't we, that's all. You need a companion for a vacation in the mountains, right? Okay, that's me, your amiable companion, a pretty girl to serve you and pamper you and see to it that your holiday is perfect. I'm available and at your service, the genuine article, no synthetics. No hidden scars, no covered-up blemishes, no morals to speak of; what else can I tell you?"
"What else indeed? You take my breath away. Still, uh, well, there's something you might show me, my dear."
"Oh?"
"You know, don't you?" The woman tilted her head slightly, a shy but meaningful gesture toward the couch. It was in the corner, a big thing upholstered in leather, quite luxurious and yet blending neatly with the businesslike office decor. Her voice turned thick with embarrassment. "Oh, you must know what I'm talking about."
Audrey knew. The briefing had even prepared her for this or some similar eventuality, although it did seem a trifle premature. Regardless, there was no reason to hesitate; if the casting-couch routine was to be part of the interview, she might as well get it over with.
But hesitate she did, transfixed momentarily by a sudden streak of blinding insight, a shaft of enlightenment that struck and held her motionless until every last spark gathered to a focus inside her skull. The pattern was clear now. There was something odd about the high and mighty Ms. Rowena Kyle, something she should have spotted much sooner. But the woman seemed so at home here amid all this hushed elegance; who could have figured it? Especially since she looked pretty formidable on the surface, tall and slim and blond-a kind of silver-blond, carefully dyed and done-up-with narrow bluish gray eyes and a thin-lipped mouth, all somewhat overshadowed by the lofty bulge of her overly prominent cheekbones. The look of a born aristocrat; all she needed was a jeweled tiara on her head. Even her body added to that impression, graceful enough but more angular than willowy, hinting of arrogance and a sense of superiority. Only she just didn't seem so superior anymore, somehow.
That nervous gaze of her eyes; was that a pleading expression? Admiration, certainly, and Audrey found herself responding to each flickering glance like a caress, accepting them gratefully and yet with a certain regal indifference. As though they were no more than her rightful due, a tribute to her beauty. But every distant caress carried a plea too, silent but unmistakable, a plea for mercy. The woman appeared anxious, almost frightened now, her courage draining out as the fear of rejection seeped in. And the longer it went on, this strange deadlock between them ...
"Audrey?" An ingratiating whine.
"You mean right here in the office? Hey, that could be pretty risky, .wouldn't it? What if someone comes in?"
"No danger of that. I told my secretary to see that we weren't disturbed. Besides, the door is locked."
"Uh-huh. That secretary of yours-does she always do what you tell her? She obeys orders?"
"Of course. All my employees obey me."
"All of them, eh?" Audrey kept probing for a more definitive clue, relishing her role but still uncertain of its powers and limitations. "Does that include me, Miz Kyle? Would you insist on my obeying you, too?"
"Well, uh ... no, I suppose not. You're such a beautiful girl, fantastically beautiful-and with a mind of your own, too-I'm sure you're used to getting your own way, pretty much. No, dear, I don't care to lock horns with you, I'd rather avoid that issue. But about that trip to the mountains, uh, if you're interested ... "
"I'm interested."
"Then won't you come here? Please?"
A daring notion gnawed at Audrey's mind, daring but feasible; why not find out once and for all? "No," she murmured, "not over there. There's something shoddy about a couch in an office. I'd keep wondering who was on it ahead of me." Then, with a spuriously coy giggle, she leaped from her chair and clambered up to sit atop the broad desk. "Why don't you come here instead?"
"Eh? I-I don't understand."
"Like this. On the desk. I mean. It's something I've always wanted to try. Come on." She raised one leg, pointing the toe of her shoe like a weapon taking aim. "Come on, I said. Don't you want to? Sure, you do, Come on. Hurry!"
A shocked gulp sounded. But the command was obeyed-only not quite fast enough, not nearly fast enough, and by the time her newly activated lover reached the desk Audrey had her skirt rucked high on her thighs. The pointed limb dropped and glided apart from its mate in a deliberately lewd invitation.
"Audrey ... you ... you're gorgeous ... "
"Am I? Really?"
"You're a goddess. A beautiful goddess."
"Oooh, such flattery! You go to my head. But I'd rather have you go to my cunt, you know? Too much talk and not enough action. If you think I'm a goddess, do something about it." She leaned back upon her elbows. "Do something now!"
The expression on that face down there told her all she needed to know. Oh yes, she had made the right move. This was what the high and mighty Miz Rowena Kyle truly craved. Only she wasn't so high and mighty now, except to all those employees who couldn't see her. There was a telltale message in her eyes, meek and submissive and terribly eager. And then those eyes were no longer visible as she bent and vanished from view. Her lips were wet and warm, though, and not wasting any time; above the stretched stocking-tops, Audrey's flesh was beginning to tingle. Mmm, nice. Those lips knew where they were going.
Then, in a muffled voice, "Your panties ... "
"The hell with my panties! Rip 'em!"
There was a shredding noise. The prop of her elbows crumpled, and with a small sigh she let herself sag backward on the desk. One hand reached down to the nape of her lover's neck in an urgent gesture, sharp fingers spearing mercilessly. The response was immediate and utterly delightful. After that, she didn't have to do much. Just a peremptory wriggle once in a while. A little nudge, a little prod -just enough to make her demands known. And to assert her authority, naturally.
Authority-that was the key. With the proper show of authority she could make anybody do anything. Like now. Getting her cunt sucked by a big-shot lady executive. On top of a desk, imagine! And with sound effects, too! Suck, suck, slurp, slurp, oh, such a hungry mouth! Why not give it a little help? Wrap-a little cunt around that tongue, Umm, good. Simply grand! Another squeeze now, another little hot cunt squeeze; what the hell, she could afford to be generous. For the moment. Oooh ...
Ms. Rowena Kyle shuddered joyously.
Audrey tensed. It was what she had been waiting for, a sign of submission, that shudder, a sign of surrender that was involuntary but undeniable. Victory was hers; now the time had come to show her authority again and dictate the terms.
"Hey! Stop a minute."
"Hmm?"
"Wait. Stop that, you hear me?" She shot -her hand down in front of the nuzzling face, obstructing its progress. The palm cupped her moist cunt-flesh tightly, becoming a lid first and then an impassable barrier.
A groan. "Please ... "
"Not yet."
Bewildered, the woman glanced up and then lowered her head again to lavish her overflow of kisses wherever she could. The back of Audrey's hand got as wet as the palm. Then her fingers, too, as that tongue tried to slip between them.
"Miz Kyle?"
"Darling, what's wrong? Why are you stopping me like this? Don't you want me to-"
"I'll tell you why. Because I'm not relaxed. I'm just not with it, you know what I mean? After all, you're supposed to be interviewing me about that holiday deal, and I'm just too damned nervous to relax. Can you blame me?"
"Don't be nervous. Not about that, certainly. The mountain trip is yours if you want it."
"Oh? Glad to hear you say so. Now I can relax. But I haven't really decided yet. Make me want it."
"M-make you? I don't understand."
"Silly. It's easy. Like this ... " She lifted her impeding hand and clapped it down hard on the disheveled hair. "Get your face in deep. Eat me. Rowena. Suck my cunt. Make me enjoy it. Suck my cunt inside out with that hot mouth of yours. Go!"
The silver-blond head was already in up to its ears. Audrey's joy erupted afresh as the enterprising tongue sought her intimate depths and strove mightily to lure her to the mountains. Mouth-heat spread through her limbs. She began to writhe and roll, her tousled locks tossing in abandoned disarray. A low-pitched wail of pleasure rose from within her aroused body; she lurched upward to reap the full benefit of that fluttering tongue-and soon, almost reluctantly, she went into a long and impossibly exquisite convulsion as the onrushing orgasm took total possession.
The kissing lips lingered. Then, wistfully, "Audrey? Darling? Was it all right? Did I make it good for you?"
"Mmm ... "
"I'll do better next time if you give me the chance."
"You'll get your chance. Plenty of chances. It gets pretty cold up there in the mountains, I've heard. How else are we going to keep warm in that chilly night air?"
"Darling!"
"Incidentally ... " She stripped the tattered wisp of lingerie off and dangled it from her fingertips, grinning wryly. 'Td say you owe me a new pair of panties, right?"
"Of course. Dozens. The best."
"You can keep these, then. Something to remember me by until our trip, huh? A little sniff once in a while? Unless you'd rather just throw them out ... "
"I-I'll keep them."
"Really? Oooh! That's exciting. You're a darling, Rowena."
Chapter 3
Getting herself invited had taken some fancy maneuvering, but she was here at last. Luanne Stroud felt pretty proud of herself. A little bit nervous too, though, since she hadn't the vaguest notion of how to begin this crazy stunt. After all, it wasn't her idea in the first place; now she almost regretted letting herself be pressured into it. The things I do for that freaky boyfriend of mine! And he was freaky, sure enough, the way he got turned on just talking about it, talking about girls making love to each other, oh shit, why should a guy get horny over lesbians'?
Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after they loosened up and passed this awkward stage. If she could just steer the conversation in the right direction, maybe everything else would follow along without any embarrassment. It was simply a matter of getting the lesbian to admit she was a lesbian. Which oughtn't to be hard under the circumstances, sitting side by side like this alone together on the living room sofa, all by themselves right here in Hazel's cute little house, not in that darn old bookshop. This was one place where nobody could come butting in, no dumb boys peeking through the window like that other time ...
"Would you care for a cup of tea, Luanne?"
"No, thanks,"
"Something cold then, a Coke perhaps? I'd like to be a good hostess on your first visit."
Luanne shook her head, anxious to avoid the delay of messing around with cups and saucers or bottles and glasses. But she did recognize a possible opening in the cordial gesture. "Okay, hostess, I'll have one of your cigarettes, if you don't mind. And don't tell me I'm too young, either, I've been smoking for years."
With a smile and a shrug, Hazel offered her a filter-tip from the antique silver box on the end-table, following it with a click-and-blaze of the matching lighter. Deliberately leaning over too far, Luanne used one hand to steady herself during the process, placing it on the solid but remarkably soft thigh nearest her. It was a neat bit of strategy that all but demanded a further movement on her part, a squirming and shifting of her body on the sofa as she stayed with the flame longer than necessary. Better yet, she detected a definite nervous tremor in the fingers holding the lighter, enough to end her last vestige of indecision. Lit now, she sagged back into the cushions comfortably, accompanying her murmured thanks with a squeeze of her hand and a cloud of smoke from her suggestively pursed lips, pursed almost to a kiss-pucker and heavily crimsoned for the occasion. Oh, she must have looked sexy doing that! Too bad she couldn't see herself. Even sexier than in the mirror at home, somehow- as though it took someone else's appreciation to bring out the best in her.
Someone like this lesbian?
Funny. Right this minute she felt as sexy as she looked, an unexpected development, to say the least. But nothing to get alarmed about, of course, nothing that couldn't be explained; wasn't it just the long wait that had her so bubbly inside? After hanging around the bookshop all this time, hanging around and acting sugar-sweet just to get herself invited here, well, no wonder she had a rosebush up her ass. It could happen to any girl. All the more so if she was doing it just to please a guy.
Anyway, she was glad to have it turn out like this, feeling sexy instead of bored-or even disgusted maybe!-it made everything that much easier. Uh-huh. It was easy to leave her hand right there on that soft leg, easy to hang on and ignore those silly little halfhearted efforts to shake loose. Easy to enjoy all that softness, too-like an extra bonus, really-a nice plump softness she hadn't figured on. Maybe there would be more surprises later on; who could tell what might be hiding under that stony shell.
Not that the shell itself was so bad, for that matter, it just took a little added investigation. Through half-drooping eyelids, Luanne peered at her hostess and found herself liking what she saw. Hazel Guthrie was a womanly woman, all right, with a lot going for her inside that stiff dress. Just not what a lesbian was supposed to look like. And not like a librarian, either, even though she must have been trying to give that impression. There were some real tits in there somewhere, tits just as soft and plump and meaty as this nice handful of thigh. And a curved-in waist and curved-out butt, probably, only who would bother to look for such things in a youngish but obvious "old maid" with too much clothing and too little makeup; who would even care?
Hmm. No makeup at all, most likely. So nobody would notice the size and shine of those big gentle brown eyes-such a pretty color, too, just a shade lighter than her thick dark brown hair. But her best feature had to be that mouth of hers, pink instead of some lipstick-type red, but just naturally moist and glossy and perfectly shaped. Just looking at those luscious lips gave Luanne a kind of shivery thrill that did something deep within her body, deep down inside her cunt; she stirred restlessly and covered her confusion by taking fast and furious drags on the cigarette. "Good grief, child, you'll scorch your throat that way."
"Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking of something that's been bugging me. I'm okay now, But please don't call me child. I'm sixteen going on seventeen. Were you a child at that age?"
"But of course, dear, I was-" Hazel broke off abruptly, a wry expression on her face. Then, with a sad chuckle, "I must admit you've got a point there. Okay, so you're not a child. But if you've got something on your mind, won't you confide in me? What's bothering you? Or bugging you, rather-if that's the word for it. Trouble with one of your many young male admirers?"
"Young wolves, you mean." The topic came as a timely substitute, familiar enough and quite harmless if there was any confiding to be done. "Sure. They always give me trouble. Every boy I date tries to get in my pants. All swingers ... "
"Oh? Perhaps you're dating the wrong kind. Why not go out with some of the nicer ones for a chance?"
"Are you kidding? The swingers I can handle fine, it's the nice ones that sneak up on me. The nice boys expect to get laid just for helping me with my homework, right in my own living room. At least the other guys aren't sneaky about it, they get a car and take me to a drive-in movie or someplace where I know what's coming and came make up my mind in advance."
"You, uh, you're not a virgin then?"
"Aw, come on. A virgin? It's been so long since I lost my cherry ... "
"But-but you're only sixteen. Still, it's not my right to lecture you, I suppose. Luanne dear, does your mother know? Have you ever discussed it with her?"
"My mother! Oh shit, what good would-"
The telephone rang, cutting the conversation short as Hazel jumped up and raced off to answer it. She frowned, recognizing the voice and apparently resigning herself to a long call. Luanne waited hopefully and then relaxed, lighting a fresh weed and sinking into a reverie, her memory jogged by the mention of her mother in such an impossible capacity. Discuss her sex life with that old bag? Hardly. Not after that hassle over Jean-Claude ...
Jean-Claude!
It seemed like a thousand years ago, but who could forget a thing like that? Luanne uttered a silent giggle as she remembered the look on his face when her mother caught them together. Well, it served those two right; there was no excuse for an old scarecrow taking such a young man for a lover-and even less excuse for such a handsome devil practically selling his soul for coffee and cakes and maybe a new .suit once in a while. Young and handsome and so smoothly accomplished in the amatory arts, so thoroughly versed in the European customs and manners! But lazy though, too lazy to get out and hunt for greener pastures. Oh shit, with a little effort the bum could have found a soft spot in the bosom of some retired movie queen with a yacht and a million bucks and a body that still had a trace of the old magic when the lights went low. Or a Texas oil billionaire's widow, maybe, one with a lot of good mileage left in her. But no, he had just hung around like a housebroken pet with only one duty to perform-except that he did stray into greener pastures when he was lucky enough to discover one sprouting right under his nose. And was there ever anything so green as a cute little doll with her red hair and blue eyes and silver braces on her teeth? Braces, how about that, how could anybody learn to speak French with braces on?
Ah, but Jean-Claude spoke beautiful French, enough for both teacher and pupil. No wonder the old bitch hit the ceiling like that. She was more accustomed to playing the femme fatal herself; to walk in and find her daughter in bed with her lover just didn't suit her personality.
Still, she needn't have sounded so bitter about it, using those awful words. It was okay if she wanted to rave and rant a bit-after all, at her age she had damn few ways of letting off steam. But she didn't have to say what she did; how could a mother talk like that to her own flesh and blood?
Too bad the old crow hadn't wandered into the bedroom just a few minutes before or after. Maybe then the sight that met her eyes wouldn't have gotten under her skin so much. But no, damn the luck, she had to pick that moment out of all the rest. That moment, when Jean-Claude was explaining so delightfully that most American males knew nothing of the care and treatment of a woman's body. Or a little girl's body-oh wow, what a cuntlapper!-upon which he was so graphically illustrating his point ...
Anything else, the old dame might have stood for. Oh, no doubt she would have raged a little, but after a while everything would have quieted down. Instead, well, it had to be exactly then that she had come barging in. Just in time for the graphic illustration! And that was reserved for herself alone, evidently. For the mother, not the daughter. The way she stood there, looking like the wrath of God, her eyes blazing, nostrils flaring, voice shaking:
"Goddam little nympho!"
That tore it. Jean-Claude had blanched and slunk away, the bastard, leaving his prize pupil high-and-dry and under fire, her red hair wildly spewed across the pillow, her mother glaring down upon hot nakedness. Oh shit, if ever there was a moment when a young girl came of age ...
Nympho, the old bitch had called her. Hah! That was a laugh. Look who was calling names! Well, maybe she was right; like mother, like daughter? But from that day on there was no love lost between them-and no sharing of men, either, no more opportunities for a little girlish fun on the side. No more fooling around with the old lady's lover-of-the-month, European or otherwise.
Luanne butted her cigarette out pensively, still not quite free of that ugly shadow. Nympho. And,, so long ago, too. How many Jean-Claudes had come and gone since then? How many more cuntlapping gigolos? Oh well, that was strictly her mother's concern now, no one else's. They still didn't get along at all, except like two polite strangers. Luckily the servants kept the house running okay, at least they didn't change very often. Although there was a change coming soon, a new servant due within a week or so, some woman with experience' as a personal maid. An old crone, probably, since her mother couldn't stand the competition of anything young and pretty around; hadn't she learned that the hard way?
"Oh, you poor dear child, you've been sitting there so patiently all this time. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me? I just couldn't get away from the phone."
"You're away now. All finished?"
"Yes, thank heaven."
"Then come here and sit down. And I asked you not to call me child, remember?" As Hazel landed on the sofa, Luanne leaped up to whirl and stand in front of her, practically hovering over her upturned face. "Take a good look. Is this a child's body? From what the boys tell me, I'm really stacked. Or maybe you haven't noticed, huh?"
"I-I've noticed. No, you're not a child."
"You agree with them, right?"
"Agree with ... "
"Hazel, don't you think I'm stacked?"
"Oh. I think you're an attractive young lady, yes."
"That's all? Just attractive?"
"Well, uh, what do you want me to say?"
"Oh shit, if you can't figure that out ... " Luanne undid her blouse buttons hurriedly, baring her breasts. "I figure I've been patient long enough. The phone might ring again. So it's about time I shook you up, and this ought to do it." She fondled herself saucily, pinching the nipples to quick peaks, proud of her undeniably luscious pair of boobs, all curvy and creamy and plump with rose-tipped desire. "You got something to say now?"
"Beautiful ... "
"Well, that's a little better. But why fight it? Knowing the way you feel, I don't see how you can resist me. What kind of a lesbian are you, anyway?"
"Please. I-I wish you wouldn't-"
"Come on, Hazel, we both know the score, don't we? If I'm not bashful, why should you be? Right now you ought to be smacking your lesbian lips for a taste of me. A taste of these! See? See how my tits are waiting to be kissed? They smell nice, too, smell the perfume? I put a lot on just for you-kind of sexy, huh? But if you're just going to sit there so quiet like, maybe I'd better tuck 'em away and button up again. Too bad."
"N-no. Leave them."
"Oh? You won't be bashful anymore? You ready to have some fun, some sexy lesbian fun?"
"I-I'm ready, I'm ready." Hands trembling, Hazel raised her arms in widespread entreaty. "Although how you ever got me into this, I'll never understand. Nobody else in Carvel City knows about it, not one solitary soul." Her big brown eyes begged. "Will you keep my little secret, dear? Promise?"
"Sure. I'll have to, won't I? It'll be my secret, too, won't it? Just as soon as you start loving me up. So if that's all you're worried about ... "
"Our secret, darling. Come."
Somehow it didn't seem right to be making the first move, but those pink lesbian lips were too tempting and Luanne slipped between the outstretched arms swiftly to close the gap and put an end to the suspense. The lips went for her tits greedily, kissing and sucking and making loud slobbering noises around the nipples, a sound that struck her ears and penetrated all the way down into her cunt. She lurched closer, lifting and bending her knees to straddle the lesbian's lap and rub herself against the warm softness.
"Hey, that's good! The way you suck ... "
"Mmm?"
"You're driving me wild, lover." The words had their intended effect, the same words she had used with a hundred boys in a hundred parked cars, but somehow she seemed to be saying them for the first time. "You're driving me absolutely wild! Love me, love me, oh, I'm getting so hot!" Somehow they were affecting her own passion, too, sending her senses soaring beyond anything so simple as the feeling of a mouth on her tits. Although she did remain very much aware of that, naturally, the sensation of her swollen tits aroused to the bursting point by that lesbian mouth with its lesbian lips and lesbian tongue and lesbian know-how; oh shit, if only she had found this out years ago! What a waste!
But there was more to come, of course, and she couldn't wait any longer for the lesbian to put her lesbian mouth in the one place that practically screamed out for lesbian kisses. Tumbling sideways, Luanne stripped her panties off and tossed her legs up to scissor them wide and open herself up to this one final thrill. It came with almost terrifying speed and power, quite unexpected, the thrilling response of her cunt to its first miraculous mouth-contact of a genuine lesbian cuntlapper, the very first explosion of her cunt-flesh between the soft sucking lips of a woman ...
Afterward she was a little embarrassed and didn't stay around long. Not even long enough to check and see what the lesbian bookshop lady was hiding under those stiff clothes of hers. But there would be time for that later, surely, plenty of time in the days to come. Because she knew it would be happening to her again, this thrill of thrills-a freaky kind of love, maybe, but where else could a girl have such fun without the slightest danger of becoming a goddam nympho?
High heels clicking in rhythmic precision, Naomi Woodruff moved along toward the center of town, embarked upon what was ostensibly a morning shopping trip. But her heart was hammering, keeping time with her heels, for she was still somewhat aghast at her own audacity, still not quite sure of mustering enough courage to go ahead with her wicked little project. How does a mature married woman go about seducing a nineteen-year-old boy?
For a while she had even considered choosing some other target, an older man, a garage mechanic or laborer or someone like that. But no, her first choice had been right-she was sure of it. Rick Madigan was such a nice young fellow-although from one of the lesser families in town, of course-and she had known him for years. So good-looking, too, and when he knocked himself out to wait on her personally every time she went into Eberly's Drugstore, well, he always made her feel like a desirable woman. Which was more than she could say for Bert Woodruff ...
At the moment, in fact, there wasn't a damned thing she could say for that loudmouthed husband of hers. He could make money and he could grunt and groan in bed, but aside from that he was little more than a blank cartridge. And she needed something better, something more interesting-either that or reconcile herself to a lifetime of boredom.
All right, there it was-Eberly's Drugstore. Something better. Something exciting. Something to send the blood rushing to her head and coursing through her veins. But something frightening, too, and she suffered a fearful moment of hesitation before taking the final step. Don't you dare chicken out now! Stiffening her resolve, she strode forward and crossed the threshhold of the store.
There was an acne-faced girl working behind the soda fountain counter, but the moment Naomi sat down Rick Madigan left off his stock-checking in the cosmetics area and came out to give her his personal attention. As she had known he would.
"Good morning, Mrs. Woodruff." His smile was positively radiant. "What can I do for you?"
"Hmm. I don't know, Rick. I'm not sure how many calories I can afford."
"Calories? You?" Blue eyes swept over her bosom quickly and moved back up to her face. "No, ma ma'am, you're one customer who doesn't have to count calories, I'll bet on that."
The tips of her breasts tingled deliciously, nudging into the fabric of her brassiere. True, she was Mrs. Bert Woodruff and that made her somebody in Carvel City and of course he had to be nice to her. But not that nice, oh no, he was feeling her, feeling the woman in her-just as she was feeling the man in him. And maybe he was just a boy, but there was still enough man in that lithe body of his to make her feel like a woman.
"You win, Rick. How can I resist such a compliment? I'll put myself in your hands. Fix me something special."
"Special coming up." The hot eyes flicked over her again, hot but still respectful. "For you, extra special."
She watched him go to work with scoops of ice cream and dollops of syrup, her gaze intent upon the pantherish grace of his movements. Oh yes, it was a lovely plunge she was planning to take; even her body; her own body, was telling her so-acting independently and with no directions from her mind. Her breasts were still tingling, and now her thighs were damp and uncomfortable. But not unpleasantly so, no indeed, there was nothing unpleasant about the way she felt this fine morning. There were hints of tension and frustration bottled up inside her, but it was the nice kind, the hoped-for kind, the kind that would make eventual release all the more thrilling. She shifted her legs, reveling in the voluptuous sensation of one thigh rubbing against the other. And abruptly, with her attention focused there, she knew exactly what to do. Up until then she had devised only a vague strategy, and now all of a sudden her plan of attack was almost crystal clear.
"Damn!" she muttered sharply.
Rick came running. "Something wrong?"
"I'll say." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I just broke a garter strap. If I don't fix it right away my stocking will be hanging down around my ankle."
"Oh, I'm sorry." He looked mildly embarrassed.
She shrugged. "But it's nothing to worry about, really. Look, is there anyone in the back room? Mr. Eberly, maybe?"
"No. You know he's seldom here in the morning."
"That's right-I should have remembered. Well, lucky for me. Is it okay if I go back there and do the repair job?"
"Of course. I'll just hold the ice cream until you're ready." A tiny blush tinged his cheeks. "Uh, ma'am, do you have everything you need?"
With a smile, Naomi nodded and slid off the stool, heading back past the prescription counter. In the small room, out of sight of the main store, she placed her foot upon a chair and drew the hem of her dress up. And then, deliberately, she pried a few stitches loose and yanked the metal garter-fastener off.
Okay, so far so good. And wasn't it exciting? She couldn't recall feeling like this since-well, since when? Good grief, her honeymoon? That long ago?
The stocking was already beginning to sag and wrinkle as she took her foot down from the chair and poked her head through the doorway. There were no customers, not unusual for this hour. The pimply girl was cleaning something behind the fountain and young Madigan had gone back to checking stock.
Naomi's throat was dry; she had to pause and cough and moisten her lips before uttering a sound. "Rick," she called softly. And then again, "Rick?"
He heard her and came scurrying back. "Something I can do for you, Mrs. Woodruff?"
"Yes, please. I need a safety pin. I could have sworn there were some in my purse, but-"
"One pin. Coming right up."
Naomi stepped away from the door. When the blond boy entered, she had her leg up on the seat of the chair again, most of the smooth-skinned thigh revealed by the rucked-up dress.
"Here's the ... " He gulped and stood stock-still, holding the safety pin out toward her.
"Thanks." She took it with feigned nonchalance. "Don't go yet, hmm? Let me make sure the darn thing works." For a long moment she fumbled with the strap and the pin, listening to his uneven breathing. Then, "Ouch! Clumsy me. I stuck myself." She put a finger into her mouth with a rueful expression.
"Oh. Sorry. Shall I get something to put on-"
"Silly. It's only a pinprick. But if you really want to help-here-you fix it. I seem to be all thumbs."
He gaped mutely.
"Oh, don't look so shocked," she scolded. "I'm sure you've seen a woman's leg before, you're certainly old enough. Now take the pin and try it while I hold the strap steady."
"Yes'm. But if I jab you ... "
"Jab away. What's a little blood between friends?"
With a weak grin, he bent over nervously and poked the pinpoint through the elastic. The back of his hand brushed against her thigh and trembled noticeably; she had to steel herself to stifle the gasp that welled up from the depths of her body, conscious now of a lovely dizziness. His breath was hot on her skin and she wondered if he too could recognize the change in the air, the suddenly sex-charged scent of her perfume.
Then, after two unsuccessful efforts, he finally got the break mended and sighed with obvious relief. 'There, all done."
"And a fine job, too." She smoothed the wrinkles out of her stocking. "You deserve a reward."
"Oh now, please. I'd rather you didn't ... "
"Not that kind on reward, Rick, oh no, the help of a good friend can't be bought with money. When I said a reward I meant a reward."
"Huh?"
Her hands cupped his face and tugged it close. Unresisting, his body met hers squarely-and she opened her mouth to take full possession of his lips. He squirmed, moaning a little. With a tiny throat noise of her own, she wrapped one leg around his thigh, at the same time grinding her hips in a rotating motion, pressing against him and reveling in the return pressure. Until she was sure of her ground and could safely end the kiss.
"Umm. You've had your reward. Like it?"
"Oh! Yes. But just fixing your stocking was reward enough. Your legs are so pretty in that silky nylon. Only it looks wrinkled again, you can't go out like that. Let me ... " He bent low to reach the offending spot and then knelt all the way down to better perform his self-assigned duty. "So beautiful ... " His hands were stroking her calves now, grazing them so delicately that only the curved taper and swell of each filmy nylon surface seemed to be the object of his caress. The, apparently overwhelmed by impulse, he aimed a kiss at one knee and then the other in a fleeting whisk of his lips that made both gestures almost ethereal. But they were kisses nonetheless, a fact which must have struck him with an abrupt thump. "Oh, forgive me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just didn't know what I was doing."
"Don't apologize. Do it some more."
"Your stockings ... mmm ... "
It took a while before comprehension dawned, and then Naomi was somewhat piqued to learn that her naturally beautiful legs were secondary in importance to their synthetic sheath of fabric. But it was her own curves and hollows that made everything perfect for him, of course, so wasn't there some way to adjust and understand and sympathize and perhaps even take advantage of this startling and certainly novel development? A stocking fetish, imagine, a stocking fetish in staid Carvel City, what a weird thing to run into on her first day's venture into wickedness! And was the darling golden-haired lad aware of it himself?
Stockings. Hmm. The thought wasn't hurting that voluptuous sensation in her cunt any. Maybe it would be fun to get herself fucked with a pair of stockings on! And just look at that sweet boy down there in a world of his own, kissing and caressing those stockinged legs-my legs!-couldn't that lead to new and different erotic possibilities? Hmm. Maybe it would be even more fun to get herself fucked with a pair of stockings on ...
Naomi quivered rapturously, thinking the unthinkable and falling madly in love with her revamped and rejuvenated image. Now if only the local hosiery shops had some nice fancy ones, oh yes, she did have something to stop for this morning, didn't she? Time to get the show on the road. In any case, this was still the drugstore and a postponement of pleasure had to be in order.
"Rick? Ricky!"
"Oh ... "
"No more, dear. Better get up. Uh-huh. Good boy. You can go finish building that ice cream creation for me. But first, uh,- do you have any plans for your next afternoon off?"
"Plans? No. Not that I know of." He was still breathing erratically, an expression of bewilderment on his face.
"Well, you do now. We'll talk about it while I'm eating my ice cream. Go ahead, dear, before the place gets busy."
He walked away slowly and she remained behind awhile trying to calm herself. But it wasn't easy- and with her nerves throbbing like this she sure didn't feel much like sitting down to a dish of ice cream. But the obligation was hers, of course, and she would have to gobble it right down to the last gooey drop; after all, dear sweet Rick was whipping it up just for her. Special.
Extra special ...
Chapter 4
Glancing up from her desk, Rowena Kyle was mildly irritated by the interruption of her thoughts. Not that she had been thinking about business, or at least the kind of business that belonged here in a New York office. But she was in no mood to listen to complaints or requests for favors or whatever else that this recent addition to her staff might bring up.
"Yes, Pam? You want something?"
"Can I talk to you for a few minutes, Miz Kyle?"
Rowena nodded and tried to clear her mind. But it wasn't easy, considering the time element-only a few days left now and she would be starting her vacation. How could she concentrate on anything but the possibilities of that pet project of hers? Especially since she hadn't quite decided ...
"Uh, it's kind of personal. Okay if I shut the door?"
Somewhat surprised by the query, Rowena nodded again and watched the girl's ripe-fleshed body in motion. Pam Donate was dark and sultry, her makeup was too heavy and her dress too tight, but she exuded sex from every pore and was interesting to look at. Only why should she be fussing with the doorknob like that?
"What are you doing? There's no need to lock it."
"I already did. Because of what I want to talk about."
"Oh? And what's that?"
"You. Me. Both of us." Then, giggling coyly, "You know what I mean, don't you, Miz Kyle?"
"Frankly, no. I haven't the vaguest notion. So let's not play any guessing games, please. Just speak your piece and let me get back to work."
"Work ... " The girl sniffed disdainfully. "Come on now, is that all you ever think about?"
"This is a business office, young lady, and I happen to be in charge. So if you want to hold on to your job here, you'd better be thinking about work, too."
"I-I wish I could. But how can I when ... oh, you know-how can I keep my mind on work when you're so nearby all the time?"
"Eh? What's that?"
"Well, you don't have to look so shocked. It can't be that much of a secret."
"A secret? Oh ... " Rowena glared. "All right, just come to the point and get it over with. I think you've already lost that job of yours."
"Please, ma'am, I didn't mean to offend you. I just want you to notice me once in a while, that's all. In the same way that I notice you."
"Hmph! And what way is that, pray tell?"
"Uh, well, I've been here three weeks now and you're the only person in the office I care about. So why can't you give me a break and pay a little attention to-"
"You-you care about me? What's this, a confession? Are you declaring yourself?"
"Uh-huh. I guess so."
"But why?" Rowena struggled to conceal her abrupt surge of excitement. "I'm no gorgeous young beauty, you must admit."
"You're beautiful to me. I love your hair, all silvery blond, so pretty. And you're tall and slender and you wear the nicest clothes. Just my type, really. And I sure wish I could be your type, is that such a crime?"
"Pam, this is nonsense. I don't-"
"Is it?" The girl's hands were plucking at the buttons of her blouse. "Would you call this nonsense?"
Rowena stared, utterly dumfounded. The blouse was already off. Now the brassiere. And suddenly the nipples of the massive breasts were like eyes staring back at her:
"Well?" The hands touched the reddish brown peaks and they rose to immediate stiffness, undeniably erotic. "Aren't they nice?"
Better than nice. Rowena's insides churned with desire. She could almost taste that succulent flesh. But did she dare? Experience had taught her it didn't pay to get involved with the girls of her office staff. Mixing business and pleasure was always risky. And yet this one seemed on the level, a prize just for the taking. True, there was always the chance that her sexy performance might be some kind of act she was putting on, strictly a phony. Act or not, though, it was certainly effective. Pam Dona-to had that eager look, something that couldn't quite be faked.
"Come here." Beckoning authoritatively, Rowena slid her chair back to make room behind the broad desk. "Let's see just how nice they are."
The girl's eyes lit up. She moved quickly, a little whinny of pleasure sounding from deep in her throat. Bare breasts jutting, she glided close and came to a halt. Rowena's lips parted, but she tossed a significant glance toward the door in a last-ditch attempt at preserving her poise.
"You're sure you fixed the lock?"
"Yes, oh yes, it's locked. Kiss them. Oh, please kiss them for me! I can't wait anymore, I just can't."
Neither could Rowena. Her mouth made hasty contact, sucking one nipple between her lips. She flicked it with her tongue and felt an instantaneous tremor of response, a further blossoming of the flesh-bud. It charmed her no end, this- unmistakably sincere reaction, diverting her train of thought momentarily to call for a reappraisal of her vacation plans in the light of these new and possibly useful developments. Employee or not, wouldn't this girl make a more promising companion than that other one? So wistful, so anxious to be accepted. Amenable, at any rate, far more so than the green-eyes bossy beauty. Audrey. Audrey Farnum. Ugh! That whore. What kind of holiday would it be with someone like that?
The memory of the interview still rankled. Some interview! Even now Rowena could see herself begging for that arrogantly posed body, getting to suck cunt, begging to suck the cunt of a whore; wasn't it just too degrading, too shameful for words? Afterward she had all but decided to cancel their arrangement and look around for some less infuriating bedmate to attend her. Someone more suited to her own needs; after all, hadn't she always been the bossy type herself? She still couldn't figure out how it had happened-what, a twist!-somehow she had been caught off-guard and dazzled enough to become a worshipful child almost, a shy schoolgirl overwhelmed by a domineering teacher. And later, hmm, for a while there she had even been tempted to skip the whole thing and not go at all, at least not to that Carvel City place. But her agent swore up and down that it was a good deal for her, the Summertree estate, just right for her purpose-and she had to trust him, of course, the swishy little bastard had never steered her wrong. Oh well, this was hardly the time to be making important decisions, not with so much else to keep her occupied, mouthful upon mouthful of delectable tit-meat. Better to withhold judgment for now and just let nature take its course.
Uh-huh. Leave it to nature! Munching on these terrific tits had her halfway to heaven already. More than halfway. Past the point of no return, too late to backtrack now. Another minute of this and she would simply have to find some relief for her uniquely irrepressible aches and pains.
All the way, then? Here in the office? A bit of exercise, a brisk wrestling match over there on the couch? No, she couldn't afford to let her hair down like that, not with the hired help-it would be just too dangerous. Unless maybe ...
"Oooh, you're so wonderful! Miz Kyle, I love you."
Rowena smothered her impulse to laugh in the soft hillocks of perfumed flesh. How ridiculous to be addressed so respectfully at such a moment; the absolute veneration in that voice! But it did give her a definite concept of just how much power she had over this giddy girl. Power. Control. Why not put it to use?
"You love me, Pam? I can't believe that. You don't really mean it, do you?"
"But I do, I do. Please kiss me some more, please"? I'll just die if you quit now. You've got me so hot!"
"I'm hot, too."
"Then kiss me, kiss me."
"No, my dear, you've had enough. If there's any more kissing to be done, you'll do it."
"Oh. You want me to ... uh ... "
"Yes. If you love me."
"All right. Ma'am? Would you mind loosening your bra?"
"It won't be necessary. That's not where I'd like to be kissed just now, I'm ready for something else."
"Oh ... "
"Something more intimate. You do understand, don't you?"
"I-I guess so. Yeah, sure, I understand." The girl's expression was grim. "I might not know how, though. But I'm willing to try, Miz Kyle, I'll do whatever you say."
"You don't know how? Come now, you'd better not lie to me! When you walked in here to declare yourself, you were all set for anything. Don't tell me this is your first time."
"N-no, not exactly. But-"
"But nothing." Rowena stood up and slipped her panties off, then sat down again. "You love me, eh? I'm just your type, you said." Lewdly, she tugged her skirt high and spread her legs, a challenging smirk on her face. "Okay, show me. I'm giving you a chance to prove it. Show me good]"
"Please ... " Then, almost demurely, "Please, ma'am, won't you let me start kind of slow? Let me kiss you on the lips first, that way maybe I'll warm up, huh?"
"On the lips?" Chuckling aloud, Rowena enjoyed her feeling of command to the utmost. "But of course, my dear, that's just what I'd like from you." She slumped low and brought her long legs up, letting them dangle lazily over the arms of the comfortably padded spring-back chair. "There. On the lips. See?"
The girl gasped, shuddering visibly.
"I'm waiting." Rowena sat motionless, her thighs wide, the silky patch between them prominently displayed. "Still, if it was all talk and you really don't love me ... "
"I-I do. But I meant your-"
"Never mind what you meant. You want to kiss my lips? Go right ahead. Get down on your knees and do it. Show me. Like a good girl, now. Kiss the lips of my cunt!"
Bare breasts swaying, the ripe young form crumpled sluggishly to the floor. As though the kid was making a great effort, doing something more than she had bargained for. Nevertheless she bowed her head and pressed her mouth to one thigh.
"No! Kiss my cunt. On the lips, remember?"
"Please. Can't I just-"
"You heard me."
Pam's face rose and then sank again, the sound of her agonized breathing quite audible. On the way down, her shoulders made a kind of shrugging gesture, a sign of resignation. Grinning elatedly, Rowena felt the warm current of air brush against her, tickling the matted curls of her hair-and then at last the beginning of a caress, light, tentative, the demanded kiss.
Once begun, it went deeper and continued without a letup. Lips upon lips. Then tongue between lips. And finally, almost frantically now, the girl opened her servile mouth wide and buried the remaining shreds of her reluctance along with her chin and cheeks. Rechanneling her embarrassment into a flow of fervor, apparently.
She was good, too, surprisingly so. Too good to be a novice at the game, Rowena realized. That agile tongue must have done this before. Often, probably. But she stifled the thought prudently and refrained from making the obvious caustic comment. Why spoil a good thing? Sarcasm was appropriate in its place, of course, mighty conducive at times, but now when the conquest had already been ...
Sarcasm? Sarcasm after a conquest? Damn! Why did everything have to remind her of Olive lately? Like a ghost out of the past, a ghost popping up to plague her. Sarcasm before, during and after, oh sure, just naturally sarcastic, the bitch! But that was ancient history now, Olive was dead and gone, a car-crash victim-dying with a sarcastic word for the other driver, no doubt!-and anyway, who believed in ghosts?
If only the ugly vision wouldn't keep coming back! Not that Olive herself had been ugly, oh no, quite the contrary; but what woman wanted to remember her own downfall? For years Rowena had tried to erase the affair from her mind. The first time in her life when she had been subjugated, the first time she danced to another woman's tune. The only time, really, the only time of any lasting significance. But the memory of it-the shame and degradation-had never truly vanished.
Oh, it wasn't all that bad; after all, the knowledge she had gleaned from that bizarre affair hadn't faded either, an education in itself, practically, her first lessons in lesbian love. Her first and best, a foundation for so much that came later. Olive's sophisticated style had bowled her over in those days, an old campaigner taking advantage of a budding business girl neophyte-but the girl was a business executive now, older and wiser and a lot more experienced, certainly, a match for any sarcastic bitch. A pity her harsh teacher couldn't have lived to see the day ...
"Miz Kyle?"
"Hmm?"
"What's the matter? You're not, uh, you know ... "
"Sorry, dear. I was just thinking."
"Oh. Do you want me to stop?"
"Why? Do you want to?"
"I-I never want to stop."
"Getting used to it, eh? Getting to like my cunt?"
"Mmm. Love it."
"You're serious? Pam? You love my cunt?"
"Can't you tell? I love it, I love it ... "
"Well, don't be ashamed to say so. Say it nicely, I mean all of it, right out loud. Unless maybe you think cunt is a dirty word. Hey, you're not some kind of secret prude, are you? Oh shit, I sure hope not, I'm just starting to feel relaxed with you now."
"Please do, ma'am, please relax and just let me love you. Let me love your cunt, let me love it until you-"
"Hush. You're confusing me, my dear." Rowena stroked the dark-haired head tenderly, a gesture to soften the shock of her sarcastic tone of voice. Oh yes, a little shrewdly aimed sarcasm could provide exactly the right stimulus now and then; it was all in the timing. "You just told me you loved my cunt, didn't you? And now you seem to be asking for ... well, what are you asking for?"
"Let me love it with my lips. Let me kiss your cunt."
"Hmm. Confusing. Very confusing ... " Then, "But, of course, how stupid of me. You're asking to make love to my cunt, isn't that it? You want to suck my cunt, that's what you're supposed to do with your lips. And your tongue. And most of your face, if you're the enthusiastic type. Fine, fine. But you mustn't confuse that with love-it's sucking, not loving. Love comes from the heart, love is a feeling, not a physical caress."
"Oh. Miz Kyle? I'm the stupid one, right? I love you. I love your cunt. Won't you please let me suck the cunt I love?"
"Ah yes, you said that so nicely. How can I resist such a pretty speech? Suck me, eat me, gobble to your loving heart's content, you greedy cuntlapper, suck, suck, suck until you can't swallow another mouthful. That should make you happy. And see how simple it was to talk me into it?"
The dark head resumed its gently bobbing motion, avid eyes rolling upward in their sockets liquidly, glistening with gratitude and perhaps seeking further instructions. Or was it merely a quest for commendation, a plea for approval? Yes,, that was it, a bit vain but easily satisfied; all it took was a smile from Rowena-plus a little wriggle of her ass for good measure-and the eyes drooped and ducked out of sight, no longer needed by such an "enthusiastic type" lover of cunt. Not with lips and tongue and face all buckling down so vigorously.
Rowena simmered in a kind of leisurely excitement, quite earned away by the enormity of her deed. Misdeed. Making this girl grovel, turning her into a puppet in one short session. This girl, a member of the office staff, a recently hired employee who could hardly have been cognizant of the unwritten taboo they were breaking. Outside the door there were typewriters clacking and telephones ringing; the very thought added spice to the occasion. Especially since she hadn't even issued a "do not disturb" order to the secretary at the inner reception desk. What a thrill!
Hmm. A thrill because of the danger? Watch it, boss-lady, isn't that a sign of masochism?
Oh, the hell with it, let the pleasure-principle prevail! In this mood, she was sitting on top of the world. That tunneling face was in deep now, the plump-fleshed cheeks like a slowly cleaving warm wedge between the dilated flanges of her cunt. It had an insistence of its own, somehow, coaxing her body to rear up and respond impetuously in an arching motion that smeared the juices of her lubricity into that hot sucking mouth and upon its surrounding surfaces. The exquisitely abrasive friction of lips inside hairy lips, tongue-flesh upon seething cuntflesh, was enough to set her vibrating like a plucked string. Yes indeed, sitting on top of the world-only wasn't it odd how the world seemed to be rocking, beneath her all of a sudden?
The springs of the chair were getting a workout. The movement was sending her over the edge, too, sliding her off the seat so that most of her weight had only that upturned face to rest upon. That lovely face. The sweet sultry face of sexy Pam Donate, who was now using it not to charm of seduce or enchant but simply as an instrument of pleasure. An erotic convenience, as it were-a concept that Rowena found uniquely exhilarating in this dog-eat-dog era of venal corruption and chicanery. The dear girl was volunteering her services without reservation, consigning herself unstintingly to the furtherance of this burdensome but evidently not abhorrent cause. Such self-denial, subordinating her own interests to that of her beloved boss-along with a wealth of enthusiasm for her work, of course; like a plumber's rubber plunger, that mouth!-more than compensated for the flaws and faults and all the usual shortcomings of someone like that, a lowly and somewhat vulgar little peasant ...
Damn! All that rocking could make a body seasick. Simple curiosity demanded at least a hasty survey of the situation; just where was the impetus coming from? Rowena craned her neck to watch and measure the action of the burrowing head against the reaction of her own aroused flesh. Not that it mattered an instant later, oh not, far more important was the strange sight that met her eyes down there! The sexy rascal was in the midst of a precariously shaky balancing act, a mobile half-crouch supported only by the frail tripod formed by her knees and her face. Knees on floor, face in cunt. No hands? No, she had another use for those hands of hers-and not so selfless, either-squeezing her own naked tits and playing with them wildly, cupping and crushing the suspended handfuls, pinching and prodding the engorged nipples; such a droll picture, so deliciously obscene! And sucking cunt at the same time, too, spreading herself pretty thin but still hanging right in there, still holding her own despite the seemingly impossible odds.
It was provocative, sure enough, and Rowena had an immediate recollection of how sensitive those nipples were, how responsive to the touch of a finger, the flick of a tongue. Wasn't there some special benefit to be reaped from that, some way to fit the best parts together and turn this volatile circus stunt into something more substantial?
Uh-huh. Time for a change, then. One more step in this swift transformation of the sultry office siren into a docile but accomplished sex-slave. As long as those bare breasts were so available ...
"Pam?"
"Ummm ... "
"Give me your tits."
"Hmm?"
"Didn't you hear me? I want your tits, not your mouth."
"But-but ... "
"Move in closer. Hurry! I want your tits instead of your mouth now. In my cunt. Understand? Fuck me, fuck me with your tits, poke a nipple in and jam my cunt full ... "
"Oh. Yesss. Ooooh!"
"Hurry, hurry!"
The girl hurried, muttering ecstatically under her breath, a trifle shaken but obviously inflamed by the brusque summons to this new and unexpected caprice. With both hands, not even bothering to wipe her sex-smeared face, she compressed one flexuous mound of flesh to a cherry-tipped cone and then molded the cherry to a rigid point. When it touched her, Rowena sank back upon the chair and stretched the spread of her dangling legs to lay her crotch wide open in preparation, stretching almost painfully in the hope of accommodating all that was to follow. Cramped to a pointy bulge like that, it was. sliding in quite smoothly, no more than a pleasantly intimate invasion as yet-but soon those hands would be relinquishing their grip, and she remembered only too well the true size and shape and solidity of the monstrous, invader. Big tits were okay in their place, no doubt, 'but this was hardly it; too much for her maybe?
Still, she couldn't quit now, not when her dewy-cheeked slave appeared so studiously compliant. The hands had relaxed a little, allowing the gap to fill. And there was so much more to come! More than a near-virginal lesbian body could take? Rowena's cunt throbbed in creepy anticipation. Businesslike logic told her that the thing simply wouldn't fit, but womanly intuition assured her that it would. And then, miraculously, the hands were gone and everything seemed to be slithering together with oil-slick ease, fantastic beyond belief and all the more delightful for the delay, all the more refreshing as her fear gave way to the sweet frenzy of lust.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeeee!"
"Yeah. With my tits ... "
They began to alternate soon, one breast and then the other, an idea of Pam's that Rowena didn't mind at all. She welcomed whichever one reached out to her, jutting her torso up eagerly to receive its thrust, rubbing herself against it, enclosing it, engulfing it in hot wet cunt-flesh, rapturously conscious of the stiff poking and prodding of the elongated nipple. Until at last, biting her lips to suppress a shriek and ward off total delirium, she succumbed to her climax like a well-laid woman at the instant of conception. As though the huge thing inside her had ejaculated like a penis intent on pregnancy. The notion made her a bit queasy, but she saw the humor in it and smiled as her sanity returned; after all, the baby was bound to be a girl ...
"Hey, you're smiling." The dark eyes peered up expectantly. "I guess you liked it, huh? Did I do okay?"
"Just fine, darling."
"I'm so glad. Honest, Rowena, I really wanted to do it right but just wasn't sure ..."
"You did very well, my dear. Beautifully."
"Thanks." The girl remained on her knees. "I'll do it for you again. Suck your cunt. Fuck you with my tits. Whatever. Whenever you say."
"Uh-huh. I'll let you know."
"Ooooh, I just thought of something. If I could be your private secretary maybe, we'd really have a ball, huh? I'm pretty good at typing and shorthand, so it wouldn't be interfering with business, either. Rowena, I'll bet we could-"
"Shut up! One more peep out of you about being my secretary and you won't even be a filing clerk anymore. Now get up and wipe your face and put your blouse on and get back to work. And as far as you're concerned, my name is Miz Kyle."
"Oh! You-you-"
"Better not say it. I'm still the boss. And by the way, if you're figuring on blackmail, just forget it. You didn't come in here for love, sweetie, you came in to butter me up for that secretarial job. Only it just didn't work out, did it? So what can you squeal about? Are you going to tell the world that you went down on your knees to ... " Grinning now, "To kiss my lips?"
"N-no. I-I wouldn't try to blackmail you."
"Here ... " Rowena dug out the box of cleansing tissues. "Wipe your face. Better do something about your tits, too. You're a cute kid, Pam, but you're not very smart. And not even so cute right now, I'm afraid-you look like something the cat dragged in-. Somewhat the worse for wear, at any rate."
On her feet now, the girl was dabbing at her damp cheeks, a faint flush apparent beneath the sheen of sticky moisture. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you don't like the way I look."
"Oh, don't worry, you'll recover in time, you young ones always do. And frankly, I've got nothing to complain about, I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I'll even have you in again; who knows? If you're still here when I return from my vacation, well ... "
"You're going on vacation?"
"A little holiday. I'll be back, though, so why not stick around and see what happens? If you love me. Or even if you don't love me but want to angle for that nice-paying job some more. It's just possible that I might change my mind."
"You-you might?"
"Sure. Anything is possible. But you'd have to convince me first, convince me with kisses." Rowena chuckled. "On the lips, naturally. Don't you agree?"
"Yeah. Oh yes, Miz Kyle." Pam Donato nodded slowly, all but bowing from the waist in abject humility. "On the lips ... " Her tongue popped out in a lurid pink flash that seemed to brighten the rest of her darkly sultry features. "On the lips of your cunt, right?" Then, leering impishly, "Unless you'd rather have me convince you with these ... " She clutched at her bosom and made a show of blowing a long breath down into the neckline of her partly buttoned blouse. "Ooooh, they're still hot! All because of you ... "
Afterward, it took some time before Rowena got herself organized again. And even then she passed over the trivial details of business in favor of the more important essentials of her holiday trip into the mountains. Or the essential, rather, and she conjured up the same vision that had taunted her even in the dark valley of oblivion between the office siren's soft plump tits. No, even there she hadn't been oblivious to the shadow hovering over her, the beautiful body, the haughty air, the arrogant green eyes. Audrey! Only the eyes were so impossibly green, of course, and the hair such lustrous auburn; how could anyone see color in a mere shadow? A dream, then. In glorious Technicolor yet. Now if it was just a matter of conjuring up a shadow ...
Hmm. Ancient history? Ghosts'? Oh shit, so it was Audrey who had brought the old memory back to life! Not with her looks, just her attitude. Snooty, independent-scornful, almost, as if she didn't give a damn one way or the other-wasn't that Olive all over again? Reason enough for a mind to play tricks, certainly. And reason enough to play right along; why change the rules? She had never been able to resist Olive; why try it with Audrey?
Oh sure, things were different now-think of the difference in wealth, in social status!-resistance was in the cards, a foregone conclusion; it was only a matter of time. But meanwhile why not play Audrey's game and let her take the lead and just follow along and find out what it was all about? And as long as it was only a game, well, even a little begging wouldn't be so painful; that would be demanded, no doubt-standard procedure for any domineering lesbian lover, strictly within the rules of the game. Not hard to take, really, not with a bit of advance notice. And there was always the future to look forward to, the eventual turnabout that would make everything worthwhile. What a jolt poor Audrey would get then!
Rowena's heart thumped. Her holiday hadn't even begun and she could already feel the crackling excitement. Anyway, she was glad to get the decision out of the way-no tame kittens like that young would-be secretary. For that matter, there was already a tame and well-trained tabby available right out there in Carvel City in case she felt the need to let off some steam. Wouldn't it be fun to see Hazel Guthrie again? Hmm. Now where was that whip, their favorite, was it still around after all these years?
Oh hell, pussycats like Pam and Hazel were easy to deal with. Easy but dull. The real thrill came from tangling with a genuine tigress-win or lose, a thrill to remember. Uh-huh. No wonder she had left those torn panties in the desk drawer, no doubt she had forgotten to throw them out. Well, no, she hadn't exactly forgotten ...
Chapter 5
The blinds were drawn against the afternoon sun, turning the bedroom into a shadowy sex-bower. The stockings on her superb legs were sheer and extra long, black with a design of black embroidery up the heel. They had been donned and admired and duly caressed, an now at last her body was benefiting from the excitement that the new stockings had provoked.
They were all she wore, of course, just the black nylons setting off the sculptured shapeliness of her legs. Knees bent and thighs rising in a divergent line that was half- angle and half curve, her body offered an open invitation. An invitation that gained immediate acceptance-not in frenzy or in haste, though, just slowly, lingeringly, an indication of technical skill that made Naomi Woodruff bless the day she had decided to becoming a cheating wife. In all her years of marriage, she had never been loved quite like this.
Her golden-haired young lover was naked, his body smooth enough to seem almost girlish. Somewhat to her amazement, she was finding that his caresses had a similar quality. Rick was remarkably gentle, no bumbling young puppy despite his immaturity. Supine, almost languid now, Naomi lay there and let his lips glide over her, sighing as he planted a wreath of kisses upon her throat and shoulders. It was being done with devotion, not as a mere preliminary to be gotten over with in a hurry. His open mouth dallied amorously, teasing her quivering flesh into burgeoning anticipation. And when at last his attention focused upon her breasts, the sensitive peaks were already in a state of needful impatience.
With an adroit tongue, he flicked each nipple. A spasm of hot yearning gripped Naomi, achieving new levels with every touch. Sweet sensations of shuddering delight spiraled outward from the moistly soft contact of his parted lips. She wondered how long it would be before his masculinity asserted itself. When is he going to fuck me? She was certainly ready. The prelude had already stretched far beyond her usual quota. Her quaking body required no further preparation, it was even beginning to wriggle out of control in its demand for fulfillment.
"Hey ... relax ... "
"But-"
"Just relax, Naomi. Let me."
She sighed again, loving the sound of her name on his adoring young lips. At the moment, he seemed fascinated by her breasts, his mouth gliding playfully from one to the other as if it was trying to reach a decision about where to remain. And then its movement became less playful and he was tasting her, drinking her, swallowing her. Treating each stiffly sensitive nipple like some delectable morsel that had to be eaten to be appreciated.
His kisses clung. She moaned, utterly limp now, enjoying it but still fretful beneath the surface. Was this all he wanted from her? Just my tits? And still his mouth stayed right there, his mouth and all of his concentrated effort, ignoring the rest of her agitated body. Much more of this and she would be starting to spin out of control again.
She felt his hands then, like separate and detached entities, paying tribute to the stockings once again before slipping up her thighs and sweeping along the slope of her hips. Curving around her waist now and sliding down to probe her intimate flesh. Probing, probing, seeking and finding-oh, my cunt!-fingertips stroking deftly, daringly, eliciting cool chills in one instant and searing flashes of unprecedented heat the next.
Vaguely she became aware of a change, an emptiness around her breasts. The kissing mouth was drifting downward. She tensed momentarily, not quite certain of her young lover's intent. What was he doing? Just how intimate were kisses supposed to get? Was he really going to do it? That?
It shouldn't have come as such a shock; after all, she had thought about this thing often enough. Uh-huh. Even in the back room of the drugstore! Sucked with a pair of stockings on. But now it was going to happen, and all that thinking about it only made the shock more intense. Once, early in their marriage, she had dropped a hint in that direction to her husband. That was as far as she got though, just a hint, and the subject was never mentioned again. Bert Woodruff was the kind of man who believed only the male penis rated special treatment.
Bert Woodruff was a prick ...
And golden-haired Rick Madigan was Prince Charming. His mouth was getting close now, still moving toward those caressing fingers. The suspense turned Naomi frantic. Blood surged to her temples, pounding away at her brain in a series of delayed after beats that patterned themselves to the erratic throb of her heart. Once again, self-control became a major problem.
"Relax. Take it easy."
"But what are you going to-"
"You'll see. Just relax."
But she couldn't, of course, relaxation was simply out of the question. So she did the next best thing, steeling herself in a diehard attempt to stop squirming, control returned grudgingly and after a while her limbs ceased their feverish flailing. She was in the hands of a master, a true sophisticate at the unripe age of nineteen. But she had no way of knowing just how good he was, actually, it was new to her and she could make no comparisons. No, her only course was to accept and be grateful.
The thrill itself was unique, she soon learned, utterly beyond evaluation. And nothing else mattered, nothing but the marvelously fleecy feeling of pink-cloud delirium. She couldn't judge the artistry of the complex caress that brought it on, not with any degree of accuracy, anyway-but to make her feel like this, well, it just had to be superior. Unparalleled in her experience, certainly!
His mouth warmed to its contracted task. Delicately. Delightfully. Naomi's head lolled, flipping her luxuriant crop of dark hair back from her scalp. Happily she realized that Rick's bizarre approach wasn't meant as a preliminary. It had already swept her too close to the brink of culmination. Let it go on like this, let it go on and on forever; why worry about getting fucked when there was something like this around? Evidently his concern was more for her than for himself. The woman's pleasure remained uppermost; a refreshing notion after all these years! Her lover was hardly more than a boy, but she was filled with a sense of appreciation that amounted almost to awe. To preserve this thrill in all its glory she could see herself wearing sexy stockings to bed for the rest of her natural life. Why not? Anybody who could make love like this surely deserved the best in return, and if that meant satisfying a few little quirks and fetishes, well ...
"Ah!"
"Mmm?"
"Your mouth! Ooh. that hot tongue of yours ... "
He made a chortling noise in his throat but kept on sucking zealously, undeterred by the violent convulsions of her body. She was gasping for breath as if each lungful might be her last, the prolonged climb into the heights of ecstasy finally approaching its summit. The insides of her thighs worked against his face, opening and closing upon his half-buried cheeks. She was a shameless bitch now, a bitch in heat, a woman on the verge of something beyond recognition, something stupendous and shattering. A woman turning inward upon herself to become one all-encompassing concentration of cunt. I'm all cunt!
In the end, she whimpered and moaned. Sobbed and shrieked. And then went rigid in the grip of ultimate joy. After which-with great reluctance-she sank into a swoon ...
Brief as it was, she resented her interim of oblivion. When consciousness returned, Rick was still kissing her. Not in the single-minded dedicated manner of a few moments ago, but with a kind of tranquil affection. And she hated the idea of having missed even that. In the days to come, perhaps, she would grow accustomed to such tender loving care. Here and now, though, every time-tick seemed infinitely precious.
A sigh welled up within her, a sigh of pure contentment. The kisses tapered off to a halt, and she heard a tiny chuckle sounding from between her limp legs. Obviously the young man was pleased with himself. As he had every right to be.
"You okay now?" he murmured.
"Uh-huh."
"You got pretty wild there for a minute."
"Oh?"
"Real wild. I thought you were going to crack up."
"Crack up?"
"You know. Climb the walls. Start screaming, maybe. That kind of loving really knocks you out, huh? Do you always get like that from it?"
"I-I never had it before."
"Aw. Naomi? You're putting me on."
"No, dear. It's the truth."
"I'll be damned. First time, huh?"
"First time."
"And it really got to you? The fancy stuff?"
"Your tongue got to me. So if that's what you call fancy ... "
"Hey, you know something? Maybe you ought to try making it with a chick some time. It might be even better."
"A chick? What are you talking about?"
"Well ... "
"You mean a girl? Hmm. Rick, what brought that on? What do you think I am, a lesbian?"
"Of course not. It was just a crazy idea, that's all. I'm sorry. Please forget it, will you? Anyway, This being your first time, it's no wonder you went clear out of your skull. It might not hit you like that the next time. We'll have to try it and see."
"Now!"
"You-you want to? You ready?"
"Oh, I'm just being selfish. You couldn't have gotten as much out of it as I did."
"Be selfish. It's okay."
"Silly boy. I'm liable to take advantage of you."
"So take advantage. I wish you would."
"Hmm? You're serious?"
"Sure. I-I'm kind of freaky that way, I guess. Naomi, what we did just now ... you know ... I like that even better than the other thing. Especially with you. An older woman. When you came like that, so wild!-it was a big kick for me, bigger than anything I've ever had before."
"Is that so? Well now. So it was a first time for you too. then, is that what you're trying to tell me? And incidentally, dear, if we're going to talk about it like this, let's not be bashful about saying the words. You just sucked me, you sucked my cunt. And that was a big kick, you said-big enough so that you're willing to do it again right now? I thought you'd be dying to fuck me."
"Oh. But you don't understand. I'm dying to do whatever you want to do. You're the important one, not me."
"Interesting. Let's say I'm beginning to understand. Almost but not quite. For instance, was that why you suggested I try the lesbian thing? You figure a girl could make me happy-and that's important to you, hmm? Is that the reason?"
"Uh, no, not exactly. I-I guess I was kind of thinking of myself. Just the same, though, you'd probably like it. A cute chick who goes in for all sorts of fancy fun. Yeah. I'll bet you'd dig that."
"I might. But I don't quite see ... uh, Rick, what would that have to do with you?"
"Well, I'd be right there with you. With both of you. It would be a new kick for me, something I've never seen and have always wanted to, you know?"
"Oh. You find the idea exciting?"
"Yeah, don't you? Wouldn't you like to watch a couple of lesbians in action? Or a couple of faggots maybe?"
"Umm. You've got a point there. Sorry I can't help you out, you'll just have to track them down yourself. If there are any lesbians in Carvel City. Which I doubt very much."
"They wouldn't have to be real ones, not for me, anyway-just two good-looking dolls who might want to fool around a little. Like an experiment, that's all. What's the harm in that?"
"No harm. Except for possible gossip."
"Not a chance. This chick I'm thinking of is as safe as-"
"Rick! You-you've got someone in mind?"
"Well, sure, I thought you understood. It's a girlfriend of mine, one I've been dating pretty steady-like I said, very cute and interested in fancy fun. She's no lezzie, though, just broadminded enough to try something new if I ask her to. She kind of looks up to me, you know? That's the way she is - anything I say is okay with her. And safe, too, absolutely guaranteed safe - no gossip, no scandal, nothing to worry about. So if I brought her over here some afternoon - "
"Young man, are you trying to tempt me?"
"Yeah, can't you tell? How'm I doing? All kidding aside, Naomi, you'll like this chick. Unless maybe you've got a grudge against sexy little redheads."
"A redhead? Don't make me guess now, I'd rather keep an open mind. Just in case. And as for how you're doing, I'll have to think about that awhile. Only I'm sure the temptation will seem even greater if you put me in the right mood for it. Why don't you be a lesbian for me, hmm? While I'm thinking it over."
"Huh?"
"Suck my cunt. And I'll just close my eyes and pretend you're a girl and find out how it feels. Although with that pretty blond hair of yours - "
"Hey. that's wild!"
"And that nice soft mouth, too. Oh, you'll make a wonderful lesbian, Ricky dear, a lovely lesbian cunt-lapper. My cunt is already hot for you."
"Me too, me too, I'm so hot ... "
"Wait! Haven't you forgotten something? Look at my stockings, see how messy and wrinkled they are? Straighten them out first, you must always keep my stockings nice and smooth! And kiss my legs, too, my beautiful legs; isn't that what a sexy lesbian would do? Of course it is. Then you can suck ray cunt, you darling girl."
It was difficult to speak freely. Hazel just couldn't feel at ease here in the bedroom of this huge old house. A bedroom was for sex, not a discussion about business-with this woman, anyway; a bit older, naturally, but still an alluring creature. And it had been such a long time ...
"Oh, do stop fidgeting! What's the matter with you?"
"I-I'm sorry, Rowena."
"Well, you should be. Especially since you're giving me bad news. Very annoying. You really think this town would be wrong for the kind of business I'm planning, eh?"
"That's my opinion, yes. It's a hotbed of gossip."
"Oh shit, what small town isn't? Wherever I decide to open up, there's bound to be some talk. A lot of guesswork, at least. How about you and your bookshop, for instance-don't the old biddies wonder why an unmarried girl doesn't go out on dates? I'm sure they're in and out of your place enough to get pretty curious."
"I suppose so. But they think I'm one of them, above suspicion practically. I'm playing a part here, I try to dress and act like an old biddy myself."
"Hmph! So I've noticed. Rather dowdy, I must say. But if it works, well ... " Rowena shrugged. "Sounds a little farfetched though, doesn't it? In the years you've been in business here, you've never been touched by scandal? Poor baby. What a dull existence you must have led."
Stung by the criticism,' Hazel fumed inwardly. Especially since much of it happened to be true. She felt it even more because of Rowena's polished appearance, the silver-blond hair so perfectly coffured, the slim body and long legs so graceful in an obviously expensive frock and ultra-stark high heels. Alongside such classic elegance Hazel felt dowdy indeed, enough so to yield to her pride and make an almost indignant defense of her life-style. A defense that went beyond her better judgment.
She hadn't meant to let the secret of her recent indiscretion slip out, but that smug smile was unbearable and she simply couldn't help herself. Besides, it had tremendous shock value-after all, an affair with a schoolgirl, imagine!-and watching the smug face turn incredulous and then envious did her a world of good. She even added a few embellishments of her own to the story, bypassing truth in favor of dramatic impact, quite enthused by the delightfully apparent effect of her creation. Rowena had become the fidgety one now, rising to her feet and pacing the floor nervously, an old familiar sign of sexual distraction.
And yet, ostensibly, they were still discussing business, the suitability of Summertree and Carvel City as the site for a private pleasure resort. Having made her desired impression, Hazel turned prudent and reverted to the truth once again, keenly conscious of the bookshop and her standing in the community. Her recital wound down stressing the fact that she had gotten that deeply involved with the precocious brat only to ensure her silence and thus prevent the spread of a mildly mischievous but nonetheless cruelly malignant rumor. A rumor that might have started as a prank but could only have destroyed her in the end ...
"Okay, okay." Rowena's voice cut in impatiently. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you to bring the kid out here to meet me. I'll have plenty of company anyway, I brought a girl friend of my own and there'll be guests arriving later on. For that matter, I figure it's safer to avoid the townspeople altogether -although I can't complain, really, considering the nice deal they're giving me. I'm getting my food and booze at bargain prices, how about that?" Still pacing the floor-, she plucked at a few fasteners and get rid of her dress, tossing it aside carelessly. "There, that's better." She stretched sensuously, peering at herself in the mirror. "Nothing like comfort, huh?"
The sudden switch bewildered Hazel. Until she recognized the only logical reason for such illogical behavior. Of course. It was simply a way of shutting off the business discussion. And after business, what? Pleasure, what else"? The bedroom kind, oh yes,- the kind of pleasure they had discovered together so many years ago; truly a welcome change after this wary discourse! She could already sense an intriguing turbulence in the atmosphere.
"Well? No comment?" Rowena had swung around from the mirror, sneaking a final rear-view glance over her shoulder. "Or maybe this body of mine doesn't please you anymore, hmm?"
Hazel was still a trifle flustered. "Oh, that's silly. You look marvelous." She meant it, too, quite fascinated by the near-nude vision, the slender figure utterly striking in bra and panties, nothing else. No hose, no garter-belt, just the two wisps of lingerie and those stilt-heeled shiny black pumps. "I-I scarcely know how to put it into words."
"Oh? Too bad." Then, feigning a pout, "You must be losing your touch, darling. I can remember a time when the pretty phrases flowed easily and often. Mmm, yes, and what a thrill I used to get just listening to you! Aren't you still the articulate type, very handy with words? Or is it just me, perhaps- maybe I'm just not as beautiful to you now."
"But you are, Rowena. Beautiful as ever. Even more so. You look divine, positively divine ... "
"Well, that's a little better. I was beginning to doubt myself. Beginning to wonder, you know?"
"Forgive me. I was just stunned. I'm still stunned, really I am-you take my breath away. You're gorgeous and glorious, the same glorious sex-goddess you always were."
"You darling! Now you sound like the girl I once knew. But you're trembling, dear, are you frightened? Afraid of me, afraid of what I might do to you?"
"N-no. Just excited."
"Good, good, you'll love it, won't you? Nothing to be afraid of. But what was it you were saying, darling? No one else ever calls me a goddess-tell me more, I like that."
"What more can I say? You're my beautiful goddess."
"And you're a sinful bitch, aren't you? Playing around with a young kid. Corrupting her, probably. And then bragging about it, too. Wouldn't you call that sinful, Hazel?"
"Oh. Yes. Please don't be angry with me. It was sinful, sinful, terribly sinful-you're right, I'm a sinful bitch."
"You'll have to atone for your sins."
"Yes. I'll do it. Anything you say."
"I say punishment!"
"Oh! Punish me, then. I deserve it."
Rowena chuckled sardonically. "That's my baby. Still the same masochistic cunt, huh?"
"No ... " The accusation struck a sensitive nerve. "I'm not, I'm really not. I've never been like this with anyone else. But if it pleases you ... "
"It pleases me. Does it please you?"
Hazel hung her head. The imperious stare of those steely gray eyes was too much to cope with. "I- I ... yes, it pleases me. You're the only one who can do this to me; I just can't help myself." She slipped to her knees and bowed humbly, pressing her lips to the toe of one high-heeled shoe.
"Hmm, just like old times."
"The only one, darling. You're the only one."
"And I do it good, don't I?"
"Ummm. Rowena, I love you."
"Shit! You don't love me, you stupid bitch, you love the way I can lay a whip across your fat ass. Isn't that so?"
"Yesss. I love your whip."
"Damn right you do. Only I'm not ready to whip you yet. You waited this long for your whipping, what the hell, it won't hurt you to wait a little longer. Or maybe it will hurt you-and that's all the better, huh?"
"Oh ... please ... "
"Love my shoes first. Lick them. Lick my shoes all over, use your tongue and swab my shoes till they sparkle. And suck on the heel, too, you hear? Do it! Like the slave that you are."
Obeying feverishly, Hazel sank deeper under the spell of her arrogant goddess out of the past. The one person in all the world who could make her feel like this! Crouched in fawning obeisance, groveling without shame now, she plied her tongue diligently and shined the black leather pumps. And with leeching lips she sucked each long narrow heel into the vacuum of her mouth. The taste was unpleasant and at least faintly offensive to her, but the assigned task itself seemed singularly important somehow, and she took a kind of insane pride in her uncompromising performance and hopefully immaculate result.
"All right, bitch, look up at me. Pull your tits out. It's been ages since I laid eyes on those big tits of yours. They don't look very big inside that dress, though. You got 'em all trussed up or something? Your ass can wait, I want those tits now. Strip down and let me see. Hurry!"
Hazel hurried but not quickly enough, fumbling with agitated fingers that were unable to keep abreast of this new development. Her towering tormentor reached down and grabbed and ripped savagely, tearing away bodice and brassiere in one ferocious swipe.
"Uh-huh. They're big, sure enough. Those big tits -you know what I'm going to do to them?"
There was no need go guess. The bared breasts were hanging out, huge, naked, vulnerable, already quaking from pain that had not yet been inflicted. Hazel cupped them from underneath and lifted her hands, thrusting the heavy mounds of flesh up and into prominence like the sacrificial offering of some primitive slave to her omnipotent goddess.
"Hit me. Punish me. Hurt me ... "
A vicious spat-and she bit her lips to keep from screaming. Another slap evoked a moan from deep within her throat. The pain was horrible. And yet, fantastically, she felt her agonized nipples stiffen and bulge and turn hot with voluptuous excitement.
"Just like old times, huh?" The repeated phrase evidently had special significance for Rowena. "No, not quite. Not quite like old times, eh? A little touch-up should do it, though." She flailed away at the quivering breasts until both nipples poked out like sore thumbs and the surrounding skin went fiery red. "There. Now you're ready. Like old times. Ready to have your ass whipped! Remember the old position? Get your head down on the floor. Skirt up high."
"Y-yes ... but my panties ... " : "The hell with your panties. My whip will take them right off along with your skin."
Hazel shuddered. There was a tautness inside her, a tight sensation brought on by combined fear and desire. She knew only too well what was about to happen. The sweet scary tension was an ache mounting in her loins ...
"Here. The whip. Our favorite. Kiss it!"
Ah yes, such a long time! Hazel felt the tears coming to her eyes as she paid homage to the whip that was shoved under her face. Tears of gratitude. Tears of joyous humiliation. Dripping tears that were incomprehensible but precious. Was it really and truly the same whip?
Crack!
The same whip. Crack, crack, crack-the very same whip-and it was tearing the panties right off her body. Shredding the fabric to get at the flesh underneath. The flesh of her ass, the soft flesh of her big fat burning-hot ass; the same wicked whip in that same masterful hand, each stroke bringing a prolonged split-second of hell that seemed unbearable until it was followed by a tingling pleasure-pain reaction that became sheer heaven. And wasn't, it a lovely way for a sinner to atone for her sins? 'Punishment. Sweet punishment for a sinful slave-bitch ...
Chapter 6
Downstairs the front door had been left unlocked. The guests scheduled to arrive shortly would know how to let themselves in. Or at least one of them did, having been given explicit instructions for this afternoon visit. And as for the other ...
Naomi smiled, sinking deeper into the tub and luxuriating in its all-embracing comfort. The iridescent bubbles popped and crackled under her chin; she sneezed once and burst into a thrill of delighted laughter. Everything felt so good! Even the touch of her fingers upon her own slithery flesh seemed exquisitely stimulating. And she was in no hurry, no hurry at all. Her strategy for the day would require patience. And timing, certainly. None of which might pay off, of course, but wasn't it fun just to try? Oh, she was in a rare mood!
Anyway, regardless of the payoff, it was bound to be a step in the right direction. She always looked good just coming out of the bath. The heat gave her skin a rosy texture that would appear downright sexy to a discerning eye. Let the kid take a nice long unobstructed look, let her see the body of the "other woman" slated for this experiment in fancy fun. And just out of a warm and bubbly tub, that would be at its very best.
The girl herself was only vaguely familiar to Naomi, a little redhead with a penchant for well-filled cashmere sweaters. There was money, too-big money-the Stroud home was one of the grandest in Carvel City. Too bad about her mother, though, the old lady was always off to Florida or France or some such,. soaking up the sunshine and having herself a hot time. No wonder Luanne went in for fancy fun, what with no parental guidance to keep her in line. Not that it mattered as far as Naomi was concerned; after all, she sure didn't expect Rick to bring over some goody-goody type for an afternoon's frolic ...
Ah! There they were. The downstairs door-chime. Another few minutes and he would know she wasn't going to answer it. Uh-huh. She could hear the door opening now. Opening and closing and no doubt being locked-as ordered. Bert was out of town today, so the place was safe even for the cheatingest of cheating wives, a nice bit of timing to begin-with.
"Rick? Luanne? Can you hear me? Come on upstairs."
"Okay. Ready or not, here we come."
Naomi chuckled. She was ready, all right. Ready. As the footsteps approached, she raised her voice again. "I'm in the tub, kids-be out soon. Rick, there's a bottle of sweet wine chilling in the fridge, why don't you go down and fetch it? Better get some glasses, too."
"Wine, huh? Sure. Good idea."
"Thanks. Meanwhile, uh, Luanne dear, would you do me a small favor? I poured myself some cognac out there and then forgot it, and I'm just dying for a sip. Be a doll and bring it in for me, will you? The brandy goblet, see it on the dressing table?"
"Uh-huh." Then, a moment later, "Naomi?"
"Come on in. Door's open."
The timing was perfect. She was rising from the tub as the door swung open. With one foot still in and the other on the bathmat, she paused and steadied herself as if she had temporarily lost her balance while climbing out.
"Watch it," the girl said. "You'll fall."
"Yeah, how about that?" Teetering sinuously, Naomi giggled and got both feet safely planted on the mat. "I haven't even had a drink and I'm staggering already."
Ill at ease, Luanne stood just over the threshold with the big glass in her hand. Her eyes were averted, but in the cramped confines of the tiny room it was impossible for her to miss the view completely.
And Naomi give her a view, sure enough. "Hold it right there a minute, honey." She reached for a towel in a spuriously casual motion that put every facet of her rippling flesh on display. "Let me get my hands dried off first or we're liable to have busted crystal all over the floor."
Then, with undue care, she began toweling her fingers dry slowly, aware of the seductive sight her body presented, all curves and hollows and glistening expanses, a lacy filigree of foam clinging to her damp rose-tinged skin. Aware, too, of the change in the youngster's eyes now, still turned away but not without flashing a sidelong glance every so often. As though she couldn't quite help herself, fascinated against her will by the awesomely naked full-blown female figure, the bulging ripe-nippled breasts, the flared waist-and-hipline tapering to a sleek configuration of womanly thighs and calves and ankles. And the eye-catching crop of cunt-hair, of course, the strands now crisp and curly at the tips but still soaking wet in its thick black central depths. Until at last Naomi saw the goblet tilt and slosh precariously, unwitting evidence of the kid's covert but apparently total absorption.
"Okay, gimme." And after a sip, "Mmm, that's fine cognac, just right for an afternoon tonic. Would you rather have some of this instead of waiting for the wine?"
"I-uh ... " Luanne shook her head, obviously rattled and anxious to escape from the close intimacy of the bathroom. "No, thanks. I guess I'd better see how Rick is doing, anyway." Whirling, she started out and then swung back momentarily to pull the door shut with a little giggle. And a little murmur, barely audible, "Hey, you're real sexy, you know?"
Alone again, Naomi took a well-merited moment to sip some more cognac and congratulate herself; yes indeed, she had planned her strategy wisely! But there were noises coming through from the bedroom now, and she hurried to finish her preparations and join the party. Or create the party, more likely-as a conscientious hostess should-and wasn't it nice to have two such charming party prospects to work with?
The remaining preparations were simple enough, a quick fluff-out of her hair and a scarcely necessary recheck of the elaborate makeup job she had done earlier (to good effect,, evidently, and unimpaired by the bubbles of her pseudo-bath). Dainty black mules then and her prize negligee, the gorgeous black one, all slinky and shimmery and practically crawling with aphrodisiac allure. No stockings, though, much as she would have liked to don a pair; that was a secret between Rick and herself, a confidence not even shared by his young "fancy fun" girlfriend. Too bad, in a way, but certainly a boost to an aging woman's ego ...
"Naomi? You gonna stay in there all day?"
"Keep your shirt on!" Then, stepping out of the bathroom, "Or take it off if you want to, I won't object."
"You just got here. Don't rush me."
"Well, I had to get prettied up for you. didn't I? For both of you ... " She stroked the negligee, feeling the soft fabric glide silky-smooth through her fingertips. "How are you doing with the wine? I see you got it open all right."
"Yeah. We're on our second drink, that's how we're doing. No, don't pour any more!" Rick scowled, clapping a hand over the top of his half-full glass. "You trying to get us smashed or something?"
"It's very good wine," the girl said. "And I love that thing you're wearing, I've never seen such a beautiful negligee. You look simply ravishing in it."
"Hmm. I'm glad somebody appreciates me."
"Oh, don't mind Rick, I think he's just nervous. He was acting kind of funny on the way over here."
The boy's face darkened again, a scowl of puzzlement this time, irritated but somewhat uncertain. "Hey, what gives? You two ganging up on me?"
Naomi reached a hasty decision, still tentative but worthy of exploration. Her young man was in a sour mood-tense, no doubt, and far from cooperative. And the girl seemed embarrassed by his petulant attitude, almost ashamed, really, making a sincere effort to be extra sweet and undo the damage A gracious young thing, the redhead, a guest as conscientious as her hostess. While the boy, for obvious reasons-shades of Bert Woodruff!-had reverted to type and was now asserting his masculinity. Childish, to say the least, afraid to let his hair down in front of his little playmate. Naomi was tempted to go slip into a pair of sexy stockings and take the starch out of him. But no, a secret was still a secret, and she rather liked the of keeping that much of him - to herself. Just the same, though, she had no intention of putting on some sort of lesbian spectacle for his benefit-not under his set of rules, certainly.
Which led to an impasse-and a scoreless fizzle for the day-unless this amusing new notion of hers could prove to be more than mere whimsy. An interesting alternative, anyway, and well worth the attempt; wouldn't it be fun to defrost the party-pooper and turn that sulk into a smile? Formidable, admittedly, but with one good hostess and one good guest, well ...
"Shall we, Luanne? Gang up on our boy here?"
Rick snorted. "Aw, you're being silly."
"What do you think, dear?" Naomi ignored him. "Shall we? I do believe he's a little afraid of us; he sounds like it, doesn't he? Afraid of being penned up with two women. We might take advantage of him."
"Oooh ... " Then, giggling into her wineglass, "He really is penned up with us, isn't he? What fun!"
The girl had caught on and was helping now- whatever the game!-but it was the boy's reaction that Naomi probed for. Was she getting it? More than just a flicker of curiosity?
"Superior numbers, Luanne. Two against one. We might overpower him-and then he'd be completely at our mercy."
"Go ahead, keep it up, you two, have a good time ... " The gruff male voice faded to an unintelligible growl.
Again the redhead giggled merrily. "He's always teasing me, you know? Now you're the one who's being teased, Rick. Although I'm not really sure. Maybe she means it. And she looks pretty strong, too."
"We're both strong." Naomi grinned. "How about that, young fellow? Two strong women against one defenseless man." The reaction was coming; she saw it in his eyes, the glint, the sparkle-as though a nerve center had been touched and activated. Still, she had to be patient in this situation and avoid offending his masculine pride. She couldn't very well call him her darling lesbian or anything like that, oh no, in the presence of his girlfriend he had to remain manly. "But you're probably stronger than the two of us, I'll admit, so we wouldn't dare attack you unless ... " Deliberately, she let the phrase hang unfinished and took a sip of her cognac, peering over the rim of the goblet and waiting for him to pick up the cue. All but willing him to.
"Yeah? Unless what?"
"You know. Unless we thought you were enjoying it. Like another kind of fancy fun, maybe."
"Oh. I-I didn't figure on ... "
"I'll bet almost anything can be fun if it's done right. Even a fight might be fun, but this isn't the place for it. We wouldn't want to wreck my nice bedroom, would we?"
"No, let's not. Somebody could get hurt." A smile broke out, banishing the scowl. "Hey, this is the craziest conversation I've ever been in. Who's fighting? Why even talk about it? I don't fight with dames."
"A gentleman to the core, eh?"
"Yep. That's me. With the ladies, I'm strictly a gent. Just putty in their pretty little hands."
That did it. Humorous as the words were meant to sound, Naomi read between the lines and made her decision. Patience was no longer necessary; he was already defrosting quite nicely. The pigeon had signified its readiness to be plucked. She stood up, gesturing for Luanne to follow, and then swooped down upon the boy to seize his hand and tug him upright.
"Hey, don't! You'll spill my drink."
"Too late, Rick. Put it down."
But the. girl had already come to her aid hurriedly, catching the other hand and getting rid of the- glass. Between them they hauled him away from the chair and led him toward the bed. He protested, but only laughingly-and even in his laughter there was a note of rising excitement. Nor did he make more than a token effort to use his male muscle to defy his captors.
Naomi stopped him at the edge of the bed. "Stand still now, we're going to undress you."
"Aw, come on ... "
"Be quiet. You're in our power, don't you understand that? See how he's shaking, Luanne? We've got a helpless man here; let's take his clothes off and look him over right. I wonder if he's got enough to keep two tough broads like us happy. You think so?"
"I-I hope so." Then, shrilly, on the crest of a giggle, "Oooh, this is so freaky I"
They worked swiftly. Once again Naomi was struck by the paradox of athletic sinew and girlish smoothness, something she was sure her red-haired little helper couldn't visualize. Something that belonged to herself alone, this bit of knowledge, useful knowledge, something that sent a streak of hot potency sizzling through her bloodstream; ah yes, what an unspeakably wicked sensation! Maybe the kids had the vocabulary for it. Freaky. Freaky indeed. And the way her pretty blond lover-boy was giving I up, lying down so meekly now, still laughing but in a noticeably strained tone, saving face even as he succumbed, still clinging to the illusion of the game as he became mired more and more deeply in its overwhelming reality.
Clothing was discarded. Everyone's. Flat on his back, the boy writhed under a thousand caresses. Naomi motioned peremptorily, telling Luanne what to do. The girl poised above him and then settled slowly to make contact with his rigid flesh. She writhed and sank lower as a rush of breath escaped her lips, a sound like a sobbing wail. And than that word again, "Freaky ... freaky ... so freaky ... " A happier wail now, a kind of wistful eagerness attuned to, the mounting joy of her gradual descent into ecstasy, the same eagerness mirrored in the immature face with its precocious mouth half open in sly collusion, the blue eyes reaching out through a glaze of sensuality; another child in need of guidance?
Naomi came alive. "How's he doing, honey? Enough cock for that hot little cunt of yours?"
"Mmm ... cock ... hot ... "
"Hot cock for a hot cunt, huh? Slide down on it, you sexy bitch, don't worry, a greased pole can't hurt you."
The kid giggled, wriggling her body to enclose all of it, drawing a moan of pleasure from the boy's throat. The moan broke off in a gasp as Naomi moved up over his face. He remained quite still until her body went into its slow squat; then, suddenly, his head rolled from side to side in a frantic struggle to, evade what he must have known what was coming.
"What's the matter, big boy? You don't like my ass? Come on, quit bobbing around down there and take a look at it-my ass, my nice big beautiful ass. Quit that! Un-huh. Now. You got a hot cock for a hot little cunt up here; oh shit, I can see how hot it is! So now you got a hot tongue for a hot little asshole-right there-and it better be just as good, you hear? Or else I'll tear it out by the roots and you'll never lap another cunt again, and wouldn't that be too goddam bad!"
The words echoed luridly, a shock to Naomi's own ears. What a brazen hussy she was becoming! She felt capable of anything and everything-the freakier the better!-as though her capacity for evil had become boundless and bottomless. Now, regally, she positioned her buttocks upon her throne, orienting herself in a rocking slide that began with his entire race-nose and mouth and cheeks-and narrowed down to the tiny prod of his tongue tip in the spot he was no longer so anxious to avoid. The resistance had been crushed out of him. And she hadn't even started crushing yet!
"Naomi ... ooh ... " Luanne was lurching feverishly.
"Sexy little cunt. Slow down, slow down, take your time or it'll be over too soon. We've got all afternoon. And isn't this nice? We've got ourselves a good strong boy to use, and we can just go on using him as long as we like. For hours and hours maybe. So there's no hurry, no hurry at all, let's just sit awhile and talk about how good he's making us feel. And maybe you and I can get better acquainted, huh?"
"Wow. Some fun!"
"Fun, eh? Hmm. I wonder if he thinks so."
"He does, he does. I can tell."
"You're right, honey. So can I now."
"Really? How?"
"By the way he's kissing me." Naomi waggled her hips and hunkered down, squashing more heavily upon the upturned face. It squirmed and squished beneath her, the stiffened tongue breaking through to its full length-and she pulled Luanne's head close and whispered into her hear. "Oh shit, yes, our boy is enjoying it. And so are we, darling, so are we ... "
A gentle nudge brought the flushed cheeks nestling into the cleavage of her breasts, and then-rather experimentally, it seemed-the soft young lips began kissing. Soon the girl warmed to her task though, the lingering touch of her wet mouth trailing from one to the other, pausing for a noisy little suck at each nipple. Naomi found the sensation quite exhilarating.
After a while she leaned back slightly, gloating as the dewy pink lips pursed plaintively and strained to follow. Again, deliberately, she sagged backward just a bit-and again, as expected, the teasing movement produced an immediate response. A moan, a whimper-and once more the desperately seeking mouth. How nice! Yes indeed, she was certainly being appreciated this fine afternoon.
Gratified, she allowed the caress to continue. The air grew still and perfume rose to her nostrils, an unfamiliar scent, surprisingly strong for such a child. Musky, almost, a shade too rich even for her own broad gradation of tastes. But exciting too, somehow, and hinting of strange new excitements to come, a reminder that she had only just began to scratch the surface of this exotic new world, this profusion of unknown pleasures. Hmm. Too bad men didn't use that kind of perfume ...
That, too, was a reminder and she readjusted the angle of her body again, this time to achieve closer communion with lover-boy down there, still persevering nobly in spite of her negligence. She pushed Luanne away, ending one kiss to concentrate upon the other, wiggling around until the wedged softness bisected her bottom perfectly. The reaction was instantaneous, a deft and no longer disconcerted tongue shooting up eagerly from the precise center of her perch. It had a certain leeway now, an opportunity to demonstrate its newly acquired prowess, an advantageously located base from which to thrust and retract without fear of losing purchase. Naomi jammed down hard, a go-ahead signal-no chance of eviction now!-which he understood and accepted and acted upon beautifully, extending himself to love her as only a woman was meant to be loved. In the wrong place, perhaps, and with the wrong organ, no doubt, but the dear boy was still being quite manly in his own inimitable way-and she quivered in quickening lust as his virile tongue tunneled in and out of her sphinctered flesh vigorously, fucking her, fucking her ass, fucking her right up the asshole with that long pointy love-muscle of his. And weren't they lucky to make such a perfect match; it must have been fate or something-so uniquely suited to one another, oh shit, he seemed so happy down there!
Organized now, she could afford to focus some attention upon Luanne again. And just in time, apparently. The poor kid was making a valiant effort to go slow and easy and hold her bumpety-bump-bump down to a controlled minimum, but her pretty features were contorted in obvious frustration. She needed encouragement, sure enough. Or at least something to help take her mind off her lovely troubles, the hot trials and tribulations of her cock-filled cunt.
Naomi stretched a hand out, stroking the facial tension lines away and replacing them with a smile. A very weak smile, though, and she went on with both hands for a moment; then, tenderly, she enclosed the cute little monkey-face in her palms and began pulling it toward her once more. It came passively, a puppet like compliance to her will that added to an already unshakable feeling of power, the lewd and deliciously vainglorious feeling of seeing someone fall prey to her mere presence. It was as if her newly liberated nude body had developed an unforeseen enchantment of its own, somehow. As if she had managed to weave her lifelong skein of fantasy into an invisible magic mantle, a haunting aura of eroticism that turned would-be lovers into willing victims.
Not that she had any urge to victimize this bundle of sex-charged sweetness; holding the whip-hand over a weak-willed little schoolgirl was just too easy. No, she was only being conscientious again, keeping tabs on her flock like a good shepherdess. Keeping the party nice and cozy, keeping this skittish little lamb from launching herself into orbit before the appointed hour. Uh-huh. A kiss would probably do it. Simple solution for a simple problem! And those plaintive pink lips looked so appealing now, all moist and puffy and swollen from nursing on the nice grown-up lady's big nipples. Fruity pink lips, unripe as yet but eminently kissable ...
Or so it would appear. Kissable. Nor did Naomi see any reason to revise her estimate a gasp or two . later, even though her mind was reeling from the shock of the unexpected softness. Somehow all her advance speculation hadn't quite prepared her for this rude awakening, it was toe much to assimilate in one gulp. She was kissing a woman, a girl-what did it matter!-she was mouth-to-mouth with the sexy little bitch and they were kissing like lovers. Sucking tongues and swapping spit and kissing like lovers about to fuck; now wasn't that a silly way for two cunts to carry on? Unless they were lesbians, naturally. Unnaturally? Oh shit, she just couldn't think straight. Is lesbian a dirty word?
Okay, so the shock was over. So of course there was a kind of buttery softness; what did she expect of a kid who giggled a lot and overflowed her cashmere sweaters? Softness. Perfume. Soft perfumed lips, pink lips, fruity pink lips, kissable, kissable! And so eager to please, too, the way she had helped get the party off the ground-hmm, wouldn't she make a charming little confidante for some bored and lonely housewife? A friend in need. And kissable indeed, a certain sensuality there! Quite voluptuous for such a child, in fact, kiss-kiss-kissable] Ah yes, a darling little woman's home companion to liven up a summer of lazy afternoons. At least until the novelty wore off ...
Anyway, the kid sure wasn't giggling now, not with her kissable mouth so occupied. Or wearing a sweater, either, for self-evident reasons-not that such petty criteria mattered, really-and Naomi was just curious enough to reshuffle her priorities and dabble a bit; after all, weren't they supposed to be experimenting?
She ended the kiss and began her caress in the same impulsive moment, placing her hand firmly on one bare young breast to get past the initial shock as swiftly as possible. It scarcely seemed necessary, though, apparently the lesbian kiss had already reconciled her to the lesbian caress. The tactile sensation was interesting but somewhat less than overwhelming-tits were tits, and even these oversized juveniles gave her only a mild tingle.
Then, vaguely-a hidden tremor, no more-she became aware of something coming to life inside herself, something she was beginning to recognize but still couldn't explain. It upset her. Why should she feel sexy inside when her hands just weren't with it? She was even doing what could only have been a pretty goddam good" job, too, working on those plump boobs with both hands now, palming one and plucking at the nipple of the other. And then doing a turnabout, alternating, getting the kid hot and keeping her on edge with the two separate motions.
The nipples were enormous, popped out like marbles now, and yet there was simply no connection whatsoever with the stirring in Naomi's flesh. Until she stopped trying momentarily and relaxed enough to give her other senses a chance. That did it. Luanne was breathing heavily now, wheezing almost, a ragged rhythm, and the expression on her face carried out the theme: one sexy-hot doll-baby! After that, somehow, Naomi felt fine, just fine, all keyed-up with the idea of improvising on those big swollen titties, trying once again but strictly for herself now, trying a little of this and a little of that just to watch the effect; what the hell, it was still an experiment, wasn't it?
A nervous giggle sounded, an irritation to her finer sensibilities; whatever else might be going on, this was sure as shit no time for giggling. She sank her fingers angrily into one shaking breast and the offensive noise broke off in what seemed to be a gasp of pleasure. Puzzled, she tried it again and identified the look, too now, the horny little face and the twisting sexual response of that entire body. She felt the hot sweet thickness of her own pleasure then, a hot sweet thickening as her hands squeezed and pinched and prodded and reduced the quivering youngster to a state of helplessness. Except for the one spontaneous action that nobody could have halted by then, the bouncing and jouncing on that big meat-skewer down there ...
So the time for taking it slow and easy was over, Naomi figured, and she rocked her ass up and slammed her crotch down to give lover-boy a face full of cunt. Then, still hanging on hard and fast to those inflamed tits, she kissed Luanne's lips and bit her tongue and got pretty demanding about coordinating some sort of suitable compromise between the up-and-down fucking and the back-and-forth sucking. Until the rhythm was smoothed out, it interfered with their kiss too often, interrupting the endless duel of tongues, the battle to see whose tongue could lick the silky undersurface of the other longest without being dislodged. Although at that point, of course, the already conquered kid wasn't winning anything-except maybe a sore tongue and sore tits and a hopefully sore pussy pounding down on lover-boy's manly cock about to explode-while Naomi sat on his face and rubbed her slippery cunt into his slippery mouth and did a shifty little pelvic bump-and-grind every now and then to trap his slippery tongue and reactivate his memory and reinforce the earlier lesson with a taste of her slippery asshole. That, too, intruded upon the smoothness of the delectably soft lesbian kiss, but it was important to her nonetheless, essential really, since she had the future to consider. A future that was still very much concerned with the tutelage and training of her beautiful golden-haired Ricky. Even now, despite the temporary taboo, she was sorry to be so naked, so sadly unadorned; ah, how he would have loved the feeling of sensuous hose on her legs! But at least she could pay this much attention to the dear boy, goading him with the gift of her ass every so often, already a definite part of that tutelage and training. Oh yes, that sort of thing was much too important to be glossed over, regardless of the wild and jolting orgasm that seemed to be making the rounds at the moment-and anyway, wasn't the whole damn business an experiment to begin with?
Chapter 7
It was shaping up as one of their most restrained nights, and Rowena felt a certain sense of relief. Not that she had any real objections to those other times, of course, any night with Audrey was always something to remember, an exercise in the nature and nuances of woman's desire for woman-a lesson in lesbian love, no less. With never a dull moment, either. A very exciting girl, then even aside from her radiant beauty, impetuous and utterly unpredictable in mood. Especially the way she could be so affectionate one minute and so domineering the next! In both directions she went beyond the ordinary or expected-and that made her interesting, to say the least. Interesting and yes, exciting ...
Tonight, though, she was something else again, rather like a naughty little girl itching for a naughty fun, coyly insistent and even a bit brash-and Rowena found it all quite charming. Just being alone with this gorgeous green-eyed darling was a delight, and the idea of guests arriving soon wasn't exactly exhilarating. Now she almost wished she hadn't invited so many friends; the place was due to become a madhouse shortly, a gay Disneyland, especially on weekends. Which was ample reason-as if any were needed!-to make the most of moments like these. Reason to cater to the naughty girl like a doting old nursemaid; although who could imagine a nursemaid doing this to her little charge?
"Go ahead, do it like last time, remember? Rowena! Remember how you made me squeal?"
"Uh-huh. The urethra."
"Urethra. Some word. Yoo-ree-thra. Hey, that takes all the fun out of it. C'mon, kiss my little peehole."
"Rascal ... "
"Well, if you'd rather not-ooh\"
"Mmm? Peehole?"
"Almost. You still didn't have the exact-"
"Darling, it's not that easy to locate. Quite new to me, you know. Now if it was the size of a clitoris ... "
"Oh, never mind then. Just lick my clit."
"No. Let me make you happy, my dear. I'll kiss your pretty little peehole."
"How can you kiss it when you can't even find it? And what makes you think it's pretty, huh? You've never seen my peehole. Hmm. Tell you what, why don't you turn the light on and take a good look? Bright, though. All the bright lights right on my cunt."
"Okay. There. Bright enough for you?"
"Don't worry about me, is it bright enough for you? Bright enough to see your way around?"
"Umm ... "
"Well? What's it look like down there? Rowena?"
"Beautiful!"
"And my little peehole?"
"Precious ... "
"Memorize it, huh? With your tongue. See if you're-hey, not so sexy! Get it memorized first, then you can put the lights out and really do a job on me."
"Mmm."
"Or maybe you'd rather have the bright light, huh?"
"Whatever you say, darling."
"Oh? You mean it's up to me. Too bad we don't have a spotlight then. We could put on a show for ourselves."
"Spotlight. Hmm. Exhibitionist!"
"That sounds dirty. Like I'm a pervert or something. Pretty fresh, I'll say. You know something? I ought to keep a little whip handy for times like this. If I ever get to be your manager, I'll need one."
Rowena shuddered. If only the girl wouldn't keep talking about taking a permanent job here, harping on it, practically. Just like that Pam Donato creature back at the office. Well, no, not quite like that, not this one. Not the type to kneel down in front of a chair with her tits hanging out ...
"Hey! What's the matter?"
"I-I just thought of something. Audrey, have you ever tried the kind of thing ... uh ... "
"Yeah? What? Hey, where are you going?"
"I'll show you. Like this, see?"
"Oh. You want to fuck me with your tits? Is that some kind of special kick for you? Oh shit, special or not, I like it myself. Wait, though, better slip another pillow under me. Uh-huh. And make your nipples good and stiff first."
"Oh, they'll get stiff the minute-"
"Good and stiff, you hear?" Muttering impatiently, the girl rolled backward, doubling up to use the pillows to best advantage, catching at her knees and spreading them wide to present a most generous view of her broadly splayed buttocks. "And see where to start fucking? That's why it has to be stiff. I want you to stick your tit up my asshole."
Sudden excitement flared as the bizarre notion got through to Rowena, a reaction that hardened her nipples instantly. Fingering one to keep it aroused, she moved in close between the tucked-back thighs and wriggled her body around to achieve the most perfect angle of entry. Then, carefully, she put the tip to the center and began forcing her swollen flesh into the stretched opening. The sexy sensation was novel and wildly erotic, a quivering tenacity-almost like being sucked by a tiny mouth.
"Poke it, shove it right in. Hard!"
She obeyed eagerly, doing it as much for herself now as for her inventive lover. Trapped in her firm two-handed squeeze, the flesh sought release up front, giving the nipple a life of its own, strong and solid and very stubborn. Like the snout of some inquisitive little animal. (Hmm. A piglet rooting around for truffles?) Its effort went for naught though, thwarted by a small but violent muscular spasm-instinctive surely-that acted upon the dry and puckered aperture like a sharply yanked drawstring. Rowena yelped and then sighed ecstatically as the contraction ended, allowing her to slip past the ringed stricture and become lodged in the soft pulpy-spongy mucous tissue beyond.
Audrey echoed the sigh contentedly. Then, "Hold still right there. Don't you dare move!"
"Huh?"
"You'll see. There! Can you feel that?"
"Uh. What? Oh!"
"Nice? You like?"
"I love it, I love it."
"Yeah. Me too ... "
The contractions were quite controlled now, a flexing of the sphincter muscle that was just firm enough to exert its loop of pressure without purging itself. Rowena was overwhelmed by the tight clasp, the tiny rhythmic vacuum like tugs of her buried nipple; deliriously, she shut her eyes against the bright glare and began kneading the other breast, lavishing her affection where it was most wanted. A moan rose to her lips, than a throaty whisper, "Suck me, suck my tit, suck it, suck it, suck it with your asshole!"
"Ah ... yesss ... long as I can. Oh shit, that gets me hot! I'll be needing you in my cunt pretty soon, both tits, a real hot tit-fuck, I can't hold out much longer ... "
Rowena was ready. Any time! Ready "to shift position and squirm and push and plunge her inflamed breasts through the comforting silky fringe of hair and inside the welcoming wet slit and at last into the depths, the all-quenching depths of the cunt she so desperately adorned. Ready. But meanwhile, of course, she was content to hold out a bit longer, quite content to remain imbedded in this pulpy-spongy softness that had her in such a deliciously grotesque grip. Although she couldn't for the life of her recall how they had gotten around to this after starting out in such an entirely different vein tonight. And with the lights still on, too. Urethra. Yoo-ree-thra. Pretty little peehole ...
Seated on the furry-topped bench in front of the dressing table, eyes fixed upon her task, Luanne plied the electric razor up and down her legs. Despite her appearance of total absorption, however, she was very much aware of the other presence in the room. The new maid had come and was fitting herself into the routine of the household quite well, obviously no slouch at getting her work done. Nor was she an old crone, either, at least not as old and ugly as Luanne had expected, considering her mother's preference in female servants. No, the new one had been hired for her strength, it seemed, a big woman with some previous experience as a masseuse; aside from her general duties around the house, she specialized in pounding the fat off the old lady's plump and precious backside. Hardly an appetizing job, poor thing. No wonder she was always finding something to do where the view was a little more pleasant.
Luanne sneaked a sidelong glance. Tessa was moving around the bedroom, dusting here and there, her massive body putting some interesting ripples in the fabric of her uniform. She had muscles, sure enough. Strong legs. Sinuous waist broadening out into powerful haunches. Big firm-fleshed buttocks. A little weak in the tits department, maybe, kind of flat for such a solidly built babe. Her face was nothing to brag about, either-there was a coarseness to her features, her nose was too big and her lips too thick. Blond hair and dark eyes, though, a nice combination; too bad about the flat chest and the coarse face. Just the same, well, all in all, Luanne couldn't complain about the new addition to the staff.
Now did she realize that her sneaky survey had been noticed until she saw the flash in those dark eyes. Her cheeks turned warm as the woman's small smile widened to a perceptive grin. A shrewd grin, almost too familiar, and Luanne could only drop her gaze and concentrate on her own job. The vibrations of the razor made her skin tingle now, an almost sexy sensation; oh shit, wasn't it ridiculous to feel like this?
Ridiculous. The smile had probably been friendly, nothing more. Just her own over stimulated imagination. After all, every woman couldn't be a lesbian- even though she had come across more than her share lately-wasn't she simply letting it affect her too much? Maybe it was time to taper off a little. She wasn't exactly keen about seeing Naomi again anyway, not after that painful tit-squeezing and such, just too darn sadistic! Oh, she might go over there just to keep in touch, but that other stuff, well, who needed it? Not as a steady diet, that was for sure.
For that matter, she was getting a bit fed up with Hazel these days, too. Same old scene over and over again, dammit, she hadn't even seen her naked yet -a lesbian who wouldn't take her clothes off, how about that? Still, they were good friends now and it wouldn't be right to break off suddenly. Besides, it was something to fall back on in time of need, especially since her romance with Rick seemed to be fading fast. That still bothered her, but not nearly as much as it might have; oh shit, there was such a thing as being too freaky, wasn't there? A real weirdo! The way he had gotten so hot over that Naomi-bitch all of a sudden, the way he worshipped her, his tongue hanging out, practically-ugh!-what kind of a guy would kiss a woman's ass like that? Tongue up her asshole, imagine!
Good riddance, then. Only she would have to start looking around now, make some new contacts. The old lady was scheduled for one of her European jaunts in a few days, something to take advantage of. When the cat's away ...
"Miss Luanne?"
"Hmm?"
"Uh, couldn't I do that for you?"
"Do what, Tessa?"
"That. You know. Use the razor on you. Aren't you uncomfortable bending over like that?"
"You want to shave my legs? But you're not my personal maid. Don't you have other work to do?"
"Nothing that can't wait. Won't you let me?"
"Well ... "
Three giant strides brought the woman close. She dropped to the carpeted floor eagerly and reached up for the razor. "I'll do a good job. You'll see."
"Okay. If you really want to." Luanne let go of the humming instrument and tried to appear calm. But it was a struggle as her bare foot was gently lifted and brought to rest on a solid but amazingly soft thigh. She shivered as the cool fingers held her ankle steady under the razor's touch. "Oh, that part is finished. Tessa. I've already done it."
"Uh-huh. But I'm much closer down here and there are some spots that you must have missed. I'll go over it and make sure, hmm? You have such pretty legs. And even if your hair is hardly noticeable, legs like these ought to be shaved smooth and perfect. It'll only take an extra minute or so."
"Well, if you insist ... "
"No trouble. No trouble at all."
"You really think I've got pretty legs, Tessa?"
"I'll say. Your legs are beautiful. I sure wish I had nice shapely feminine legs like yours. Mine are too bulgy."
"Oh? How sweet. Coming from you, that's a real compliment."
Luanne's responsive smile ended in a sigh. She managed to stifle most of the sound but none of the feeling, oh no, there was something terrible sexy about the way the shaving job was being done. The big thigh cradled her bare foot almost affectionately, quivering a little and sending strange tickling messages to the sensitive sole. The hard contact of the razor was balanced by the tender palm of the steadying hand. And now at last her calves were finished and the maid's attention was focusing upon her knees.
Her knees-and above, too, as the work progressed. Tessa had inched forward, quite near now, still handling the razor with ease and efficiency even though her position smacked of disturbing sensuality. She bent her head to make a more thorough scrutiny of the skin, working conscientiously and certainly taking no liberties-and yet Luanne couldn't help but recognize how intimate they had suddenly become. Oh shit, that yellow mop of hair was practically between her legs ...
Damn! It was wrong to be thinking like this, thinking like a goddam lesbian now. Lucky she was wearing panties under her pajama top; sometimes she just didn't bother to put anything else on here in her own room. Even so, the panties were wispy and kind of sheer, and the pajama-top couldn't cover much from that angle down below. If that lowered head tilted upward just a bit, she might even feel the woman's breath on her cunt. And her hair, so bushy inside those tiny panties, the red color was probably visible through the fragile fabric. She wondered if Tessa could smell her excitement. Was her mind playing tricks or could she actually smell it herself? Perfumed sex, hot and musky, the reek of passion-hmm, now it was getting embarrassing!
After a while she felt a gentle but meaningful pressure on the insides of her thighs. She stiffened momentarily and then yielded and parted her limbs to allow the razor more freedom. It was becoming increasingly harder to maintain her posture and keep from squirming around on the fur-covered bench. Lesbian or not, it was just too much to bear. Time to call a halt.
"Tessa ... "
"Hmm? Miss Luanne?"
"Aren't you about finished?"
"Oh. I-I guess so."
"Then turn off the razor, will you?"
"Uh-huh." The droning noise stopped. "There now, all done-and a good job too, even if I have to say so myself. Your legs are so pretty now, so soft and smooth ... "
"Thanks." Luanne nodded slowly and then gasped aloud as the maid's warm cheek brushed against her thigh. Was it a caress, a deliberate caress? Or just accidental maybe ...
But the explosive breath from her lips and the responsive jerk of her body brought a reaction that made it quite clear. It was no accident. Tessa was scrambling to her feet hastily but still looking down sheepishly, guilt written all over her face.
"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done-"
"Oh, forget it." Luanne could afford to be generous now, no longer unsure of her ground. "Nice job, I must admit." She stroked her legs sensuously. "About time for my bath, I guess. Uh, if you'd like to stay and help me ... well ... "
The woman's expression went blank. "I-I'd like to." She shook her head abruptly. "But-but I don't think I should. I hope you understand. I'd better go. I've got some things to do downstairs in the living room." She whirled and loped out the door, those big boldly jutting buttocks of hers swaying and jiggling and rubbing against each other like well-oiled machinery.
For a long moment Luanne sat there on the furry bench and collected her thoughts. She understood, all right. It seemed clear now that the new maid was a lesbian who had made a pass and then backed out. Scared, no doubt, afraid she might go too far too soon and risk the loss of her job. Especially with the mistress of the house still around. And next week it would be different, of course, the mother would be gone and the other servants were old and kept to themselves pretty much-so if some big bad lesbian maid was really out to corrupt the innocent young daughter ...
Luanne grinned weakly, her inside ablaze. She turned toward the dressing table mirror and watched her image. It was moving. One hand was under the pajama top and crawling into the panties furtively, ashamed of itself but anxious to reach the damp crotch. It went out of sight, but she could still feel those fingers down there and she knew exactly what they were doing. Then, impulsively, she stooped and got the razor going again. It buzzed up her legs like a big benign bumblebee, guided by a hand that wasn't her own. The hand of her lesbian maid. In the mirror, she could see her panty-crotch bulging with the movements of another hand, and after a while she sighed and shut her eyes and swayed rapturously, thrilling to the fresh burst of activity in her cunt and just loving the way that big bad serving-wench was beginning her lesbian seduction; oh shit, who needed new contacts now? Mother's little nympho had struck it rich!
"Ricky ... Ricky darling ... oh, I'm so glad you could come! But what happened? How did you manage it?"
"Mr. Eberly is being nice to me these days. He knows I'm kind of looking around for a better job. Anyway, I've been putting in a lot of overtime lately, so he just told me to knock off and get some rest. And here I am. Okay?"
"Wonderful ... Smart man, that Eberly-at least he realizes what a good worker you are. You certainly rate a better job. But enough of that; now let's see what a good lover you are. Kiss me. Give me your mouth, your loving mouth."
"Naomi ... "
"Gently, dear. Gently. You must go easy on me. Remember, I'm an old woman."
"You? Old? No-oh no, don't even say that."
"But I am. And I'm not nearly as pretty as those high school girls you're always dating."
"No dates, not anymore. You're beautiful, Naomi. And they're so young. They don't understand things."
"What things?"
"You know."
"What things, Ricky? This?"
"Uh-huh."
"And this?"
"Oh! You know I love that."
"Do you? Then how about when I-"
"Naomi!"
"Wait, darling. My clothes. This dress is like a suit of armor. Here, help me."
"Uh-huh. Glad to."
"Ah. Yes. Zip and it's off. But what's with you? Come now, what are you grinning about?"
"I'm sorry. It's just that every time I see you like this-with a garter belt, I mean-well, you know ... "
...
"I'll take it off then. There. Okay?"
"No, you don't understand. I just keep thinking of your broken strap, that's all. In the back room of the drugstore. Did you really need, a safety pin, Naomi?"
"Of course I did."
"I'll bet you didn't."
"It's a deal. What do you want to bet?"
"Umm ... well ... "
"Let's save that for later, shall we? Winner's choice and no backing out for the loser. Although I don't see how either of us can prove it. About the pin that day."
"I'll prove it. Only you've got to play fair. Tell me the truth, have you put any safety pins in your purse since then?"
"No. I didn't even think of it, Rick."
"Aha! You didn't think of it because you already have some. Now just show me your purse, the one you were carrying. Unless you've transferred your stuff to another-"
"That one's still full, no changes. It's over there. On the dresser. Hmm. I'm just as curious as you are now."
"Getting nervous, huh? Glad to hear it. Okay, let's see. Oh, you women! More darn junk in here ... "
"Never mind the comment, just find the pin."
"I'm looking. Bound to be a whole cardful, there always is. Or at least one on the bottom somewhere, dammit."
"Now who's nervous? Give up?"
"Yeah. Naomi, this just isn't my day."
"Don't lose hope, dear, it just might be."
"Oh? Sounds interesting. In that case, I'm ready to pay off on our bet. I'm at your service, ma'am. Yours to command."
"Mine to command. I like that. No hurry about the bet, though. I'd rather keep you in suspense awhile. It's my cruel streak. I do have one, you know. Incidentally, I wasn't too cruel to you the other day, was I? Ordering you around in front of Luanne? Once or twice there I had the feeling you were going to get up and walk right out on me."
"N-no ... you know I wouldn't do that. Even if you did act a little mean to me. I won't run, whatever happens. You'll have to send me away yourself to get rid of me. But about the other-"
"That's a relief, Rick. Because if you did run out, I'd never want to see you again. It would spoil everything. You do understand that, don't you?"
"Uh-huh. Sure. And believe me, I'm not criticizing you for the other afternoon-it was my fault, not yours. I got kind of uptight because of Luanne being there; silly, huh? I sure didn't expect to feel like that. It was just better when we were alone, you and me together, just the two of us."
"Like now, eh? Good boy. I agree. We've got something beautiful going and it has nothing to do with Luanne or any other girl. This is between you and me and nobody else, not one solitary soul, it's the type of thing that should be kept secret from the rest of the world. Discretion, you know what I mean? No one else ought to be let in on it-or even hear about it, whatever we do-and that includes your little redheaded playmate, certainly. Let me make that a rule from now on, what do you say?"
"You've got my vote. Freaky fun is private fun, right?"
"Right. Freaky fun. Hmm. Here we are with the whole afternoon in front of us and we haven't even begun yet. Or have we? I wonder. The way you're standing there ... so helpless ... "
"Huh? Naomi, what do you mean, helpless?"
"Well, you did say you'd never hit a woman, remember? A gentleman to the core. And you just told me you won't run away, no matter what. So if you can't fight me and you won't run, that does make you pretty helpless, doesn't it? And if you were in a cage almost-no bars, but a cage just the same, and you can't escape until I unlock the door and let you out."
"Oh. I-I guess it's true then."
"Hey, you're shivering. Are you cold?"
"N-no. It's warm in here."
"Excited, then? Is that why you're trembling?"
"I-I ... "
"Oh, I like that. You are excited. My poor sweet Ricky. So helpless. At the mercy of a cruel, heartless woman ... " She took two purposeful steps toward him and grasped his chin in her hands fiercely, her eyes glaring. "A cruel and heartless bitch, that's me. And see how utterly helpless you are?"
He tried to back away but was blocked by the dresser, wincing as his spine jammed into the edge. "Oh. Please. Must you? Naomi, you're hurting me."
"Yes. And you love it, don't you? Poor darling. You were made to be hurt by people like me, made to be dominated by cruel women like me, oh yes, I'm supposed to hurt you! But there aren't any other women like me, are there? I'm your own special bitch and you must love me all the more for it. There's no one else in the world who thrills you like I do, isn't that a fact?"
"I ... yes ... you know, you know. You know so much!"
"Good. We understand each other. Get undressed now, I want to see you naked. Quickly." She gave his face a final squeeze and then let go.
He started stripping immediately. A tiny smile of triumph on her lips, Naomi swung around and averted her gaze, allowing him this awkward moment with the least amount of embarrassment. Just a little at a time, that was the way. Step by step. A touch of humiliation, a hint of degradation, a small shock now and then but never a great leap. Even some physical pain perhaps, but she couldn't be positive about that yet. Oh shit, there was so much she didn't know. But she was learning, of course, learning more every day about these strange twists and turns of sexual deviation. It almost came natural to her, that was how fast she seemed to be progressing. Even now-a flash, just like that-she knew what was next on the agenda. At this rate she would soon be out tracking down new conquests. Hey, look at me, I'm the town pervert I Ha-ha. Very funny. Many a true word spoken in jest ...
"Naomi?"
"You're naked, darling. Hmm. I'm not so sure I like that. It lacks a certain-"
"But-but you told me to-"
"Don't interrupt. Or contradict me. Never! Now, as I was saying, it does lack a certain something. Let me see ... " She pulled a dresser drawer open and foraged around. "You haven't forgotten our bet, I hope. Ready to pay off?"
"Oh. I did forget. But I'm ready, I'm ready. What do you want me to do? I'm yours to command."
"I'm glad you didn't forget that. Mine to command. All right, my dear, I'm going to command you now. And I want obedience from you, without the slightest protest. Not a word, you hear? Not a sign, not a gesture, not even a sad expression on your face. If you can't look happy, well ... " Then, digging into the drawer with a chortle of glee, "Ah! These should do just fine. Charcoal brown, just right for a blond. And very sheer, too, so you must be extra careful not to snag them. Here you are, Ricky love, sit down and put on your lovely new stockings."
Compliance was a foregone conclusion. With a cheerful face and nary a sign of protest, no indeed- she had prepared him for the inevitable. What could he do but accept it? Although in this instance, pretty much as anticipated, he was already discovering genuine enjoyment in his task, smoothing the filmy nylon with his fingers quite dreamily, sensuously, once over the more difficult tussle with the heel and toe. Once again then, Naomi had gauged her victim with uncanny accuracy and turned a possible rebuff into a ritual of pleasure. Maybe there were books on the subject, but she was sure doing okay just playing it by ear.
"Well, darling?"
"Oh, thank you, thank you, I love them. Makes me feel guilty though; after all, I did lose the bet. Isn't there anything I can do to make up for it?"
"Don't worry, I'll think of something. They do look nice on you, I must admit. Your hair is so light it doesn't even show. Now we both have beautiful legs in beautiful stockings; aren't we a couple of lucky lesbians?"
"Oooh! Am I a lesbian now?"
"But of course you are, can't you tell? Only you mustn't be so vain, you hussy, how about taking care of my stockings before you cream all over your own. Smooth out the wrinkles. Uh-huh. You do have a delicate touch, my dear, with a little intensive training you'd make an excellent personal maid."
"Mmm. I'd like that. A lesbian maid ... "
"Help me off with my panties now. Gently now, don't get excited and tear them. Watch it, you stupid slut!"
"I-I'm sorry."
"Go ahead. That's better. Now just let me sit down and get comfy. No, stay there, that's right where I want you. Or where my cunt wants you, rather. Consider that an order. Ricky dear. And an order from my cunt is important, isn't it?"
"Oh yes, your beautiful cunt, so beautiful, beautiful-oh, I can just see it telling me to suck ... "
"Darling! You darling girl! No, you're too good to be just a maid, you'd be wasting your best talent. A cuntlapper like you ought to be a lesbian whore\"
"Umm?"
"Don't get panicky, I'm not planning to share you. At least not right away. You'd bring in a pretty penny, though, a beautiful cuntlapping whore. Hmm. Lesbian love for sale. Only we'd have to do something about that big thing down there first. Cut it off, maybe. Or jerk it off?"
"Oooh!"
"Suck, suck. Or my cunt will get angry and bite your nose off. Now let's see, how can we organize this. Use your hands, blondie. feel my feet down there? My feet in stockings, aren't they what you've been needing all this time? Now just wrap my pretty feet around that big ugly thing of yours. There now, a few minutes of that and you'll be a ladylike lesbian again. A bit messy, perhaps, but we've always got the maid to clean up afterward, haven't we? I don't suppose she'd know how to rinse out stockings, though."
"Umm ... yes ... "
"Good girl. So you like doing things for me, hmm? You like taking care of Naomi? Darling? Oh, Too excited to answer, I can understand that much with my toes. Poor baby. Aren't you glad Naomi likes taking care of her baby-doll? I guess that proves I'm not always a wicked bitch. Just sometimes. Just nor fun, freaky fun, oh shit, do it do it, suck my cunt and come between my feet, do it, do it, don't be prissy, go ahead and splash all over my stockings ... "
Chapter 8
It was a good weekend party, one of her best, but Rowena just wasn't enjoying it much. Now that she had Audrey, what did she need parties for?
Still, the guests were all old friends and she had to entertain them in style. And every so often she could look across the room and smile at her green-eyed goddess and know that their own private party would take place later. She could scarcely wait for the action to die down so that her hostess stint would be over and they could be by themselves.
Neither could Audrey, apparently. She was on her feet and coming nearer now, threading her way through the maze of drinks and cigarettes, those emerald eyes glittering. Then right up close and bending down to whisper something, and Rowena's heart thumped as the fiery breath singed her ear:
"Your mouth. I've been sitting over there and looking at your sexy mouth. I want it. I want your mouth."
"Oh, and I want-you to have it! But we can't, darling. Not until they pair off and start thinning out a little."
"Sure, we can. Come on."
"But-but where? My guests will miss-"
"Come. Just follow me."
"Well ... all right ... but I don't think-"
"Hush." Audrey nudged her. "In there."
"The bathroom? That's silly."
"Don't argue with me. Let's go. Quickly now before anyone sees us and gets curious."
Rowena trailed behind like a pet on a leash. Her head went into a spin. This was ridiculous, a rendezvous in a bathroom, just too ridiculous. What would all those people think?
But they were already there and Audrey was bolting the door and swinging around. Rowena smelled her perfume and peered at that imperiously beautiful face and suddenly she no longer cared about her guests. Only this girl was important, this impossibly haughty creature who made the demands and dared her to defy them.
Audrey leaned back against the washbasin. "Now. Your mouth, your sexy mouth. I want it." Then, peevishly, "No! Not like that. You'll ruin my makeup."
"But-"
"Kiss me ... " Palms bore down on Rowena's shuddering shoulders. "Give me your mouth."
"Oh. Darling. Can't we wait until-"
"Do it now!" The command sounded out sharply. Audrey's hands shot down to ruck up the hem of her dress. "I've waited long enough, much too long. So do it now, give me your mouth, the ,mouth that belongs to my cunt."
Swaying giddily, Rowena struggled to remain in control of her faculties. It was so strange. So different from the rest of her life. Bowing to someone else's will was still new to her, all but that one shadow out of the dim past. Outside the door there were billows of music and laughter, her friends, her very good friends. But that was another world, a world of sanity, and here in this tiny sealed-off chamber there was only madness. The perfume. The sleek thighs, so brazenly displayed. The throbbing in hr temples. And that wondrous body posed in such lewd arrogance, head and shoulders back, pelvis thrust forward-arching, demanding ...
A small sob welled up from Rowena's throat. But she sank to her knees, smothering it in the furry flesh, and the sound never became audible.
"About time. What took you so long?"
Rowena quivered, her intoxicated brain reeling. Hot flesh. Soft silk. And that insolent voice in her ears, robbing her of every last vestige of resistance. In a whimpering suck-kiss, she gave the disputed mouth to its rightful owner, burying herself blindly in the sweet succulence as the cunt-lips parted and took possession, sucking and kissing right back. It was touch-and-go for a moment as the long legs rose voluptuously, saddling her with the burden of that aroused and churning body. Then the final convulsive spasm released its whirlpool of tensions into her open mouth and she felt only the inconceivably ecstatic joy of offering her total self in sacrifice as the measure of her love.
After a while she glanced up, devotion misting her eyes. And the faintly triumphant curve of Audrey's lips was like the expression of a goddess who took it for granted that she should be worshipped in just this manner. Which was the truth, of course, as Rowena had so willingly demonstrated. And would demonstrate again. Anywhere. Everywhere. Even in a bathroom ...
Clad in a starkly simple robe, Naomi leaned back upon the cushioned chair, her stockinged legs lazily crossed. Still fully clothed, very much a boy at the moment, her afternoon caller sat on the carpeted floor in front of her, his cheek resting against her knees. The mood was coming on. The delicious mood that seemed to steal over them together, always as a unit.
She ran a hand through his silky golden hair. "Mmm, just like a girl's. So soft. Isn't it a shame you're not like that all over? If you only had a nice soft cunt ... "
"Sorry. We can't all be that lucky."
"Oh well, we'll manage. A tongue helps-and you do have one of those, don't you? Stick it out, Ricky, let me see. Uh-huh, a very nice tongue, nice and pink; a girl's tongue, a cute little lesbian tongue, just right to lap a cunt."
"Just right to lap yours?"
"I should say so. Because you're my darling little cuntlapper, isn't that so? Naomi's own private lesbian cuntlapper?"
"Oooh! When you talk like that ... "
"I asked you a question, dear."
"Huh? Oh. You know. I'm your cuntlapper."
"Come now, put a little emotion into it. At least as much as if you were selling aspirin for Mr. Eberly."
"Oh shit, what a put-down; now I have to start all over again. Hey, couldn't we skip it and just make love today? Just let me suck your cunt, huh?"
"Silly boy. I'm a married woman and faithful to my husband. Except for girls, naturally, and that's no sin because it's something he can't give me. But no men, definitely not, you wouldn't want me to become an immoral wife, would you? Darling, I'm afraid you'll just have to be a girl for me. Won't you?"
"Mmm. Let me ... "
"Don't push. Kiss my legs if you like, but don't try to force your way in. My legs will spread for your face only when I'm sure you're a girl. I only let girls get near my cunt. It's very soft, don't you remember? Much too soft for anything but the pretty mouth of a pretty girl."
"Oh. I-I'll need a pair of stockings."
"But of course. They're all laid out for you. Over there on that chair. We'll let that be your dressing room, hmm? Go ahead, dear. And incidentally, I left another little something there that you might like. It's a surprise, so don't ask me what. All the girls I know just love- surprises. I do hope this one pleases you. But if it doesn't, well ... "
Rick was already up and moving toward the chair in the corner of the room. "Hey! Naomi, you really want me to wear these?"
"Look at the stockings first, aren't they gorgeous? See the metallic thread running through them?"
"Uh-huh. Nice."
"Then get undressed and put them on."
"Okay. But about the pants ... "
"Panties. Pretty pink panties. There's a reddish tint to the stockings, too, so nothing will clash."
"They look so small. My waist can't be that skinny."
"Slim, not skinny. You have a lovely slim waist, darling, and the panties will stretch' and fit just fine."
"All these ruffles. I'll feel kind of silly in them."
"That's all the better, you silly girl. All you young girls are silly, it's a stage you have to go through. Now let's not discuss it any longer, just put on your rosy stockings and your pretty pink panties and come and be my cuntlapper. My darling lesbian cuntlapper. Hurry! I'm getting horny. I can't keep my legs crossed anymore. And there goes my robe. See?"
"Okay, okay. I'm ready."
"So soon? Ah. Beautiful. Now you're my darling girl again. And such a good girl, too-yes, my stockings do need straightening-how nice of you to remember! Oh, the ruffles are so cute, just the thing for a blushing young girl. If you could only see them shimmering back there ... "
"Mmm?"
"Oh, you can't be that curious, just keep your head right down there where it belongs. Wait. Uh, better yet, get it down a bit lower and let me ... uh ... "
"Hmm?"
"There. My ass. Do my ass. Remember how your pretty pink tongue fits so perfectly in my pretty pink asshole? Ah! You do remember, you darling girl!"
The position had her double up on the edge of the chair, somewhat less than comfortable, but Naomi was more concerned with keeping her young lover occupied and undistracted than with her own comfort at the moment. She simply hadn't expected him to kick up such a fuss over the panties. But at least he wasn't griping now, and that was ample reason for her to let well enough alone. He looked quite appealing like that, too-the wavy blond hair and the ruffled pink panties; and the nylons; of course, a delicate rose with a metallic glitter and she was content to remain still and preserve the status quo and just watch the show go on.
Only it didn't exactly work out that way. She saw his hands sneak down to the panties, stretching and adjusting them in an obvious effort to gain some ease for his erect but constricted penis. It wasn't an overly selfish motive, she had to admit, but it irritated her nonetheless, a nervous lack of concentration that she found disrespectful to herself and to her gift. Muttering under her breath, she dropped her feet to the floor and stood up brusquely, dislodging his face momentarily but relieving the pressure on her bottom and getting the kinks out of her back. That done, she lifted one foot up to rest upon the seat of the chair, opening herself to his gaze from below, putting her unkempt and still unsatisfied crotch on defiant display. Then, in case her message still hadn't gotten through, she rapped him sharply on the head and added a loud and pithy annotation to the mute eloquence of her pose.
"Here 'tis, baby, here's my cunt for you!"
After that she had nothing to be angry about. The instantaneous reaction sent a lovely thrill streaking through her. She tingled as the nuzzling lips darted up between her thighs frantically, avidly, and fastened themselves to her drooling flesh. A long probing lick of lover-boy's tongue stirred her to action and she rocked her torso possessively over the platform of his upturned face.
"Suck me, you slut, suck my cunt until it creams into your sucking mouth ... suck ... "
Again the unrestrained response struck with sheer delight. The wet mouth, the worshipful tongue, the hot hands crawling up and around to cup her buttocks close; oh fine, fine, a sure sign that the pretty pink ruffles weren't quite so obnoxious. Her lesbian boyfriend just needed a little supervision, that was all. She twisted her body and got one leg over his shoulder, imprisoning his head between her thighs. Then, with a two-handed clutch on his silky hair, she yanked his face upward and ground her crotch downward in the same motion, smearing herself all over him and at last lengthening her rocking arc to fuck her cunt on the point of his chin. It was an itch that had to be scratched, an itch that could be satisfied only by the sensation of flesh against rasping flesh. Lover-boy started groaning a little, but that was just sweet music to Naomi's ears and she carried on undaunted, on to the greater glory of a good hot face-fucking climax!
Authority was still the key-or even the pretense of authority when the real thing was lacking-but somehow all of Audrey's shrewdly authoritative manner had built only a monument to her charm and cleverness and cunning. And who can live comfortably in a monument? There was still time yet, of course, and she wasn't about to throw in the towel and surrender-but it was maddening to make all the right moves and win all the battles and still be on the brink of losing the war ...
Standing over the washbasin, Audrey brushed her teeth furiously and wondered where she had gone wrong. But she hadn't gone wrong, dammit, which meant that she couldn't even profit by her own mistakes in the setting of a new course. Oh sure, there were always little mistakes; even a flawless gem has flaws if the jeweler looks hard enough. The whip, for instance, that was a mistake-but of such short duration that it scarcely seemed insignificant. Strictly as a tentative feeler, she had toted the ominous little dog whip around for a day or so and found only a negative reaction. End of whip experiment, no harm done. And most of her other experimental tries had succeeded admirably, too. In all her years of experience as a classy sadomasochistic lesbian whore, she had never been more certain of a conquest than she was of Rowena Kyle. Sexually, the silver-blond aristocrat was her abject slave. And like any experienced woman, Audrey knew only too well that sexual conquest is tantamount to total conquest. So how come Rowena was still a hardheaded businesswoman when the chips were down?
Audrey rinsed her mouth out, spitting a stream of aggravation into the sink, the kind that made even minty toothpaste lose its flavor. No, she wasn't through yet, there was still some secret button inside Rowena that had to be discovered and pushed to make this summer holiday a success; and there was still time to make that discovery. Even tonight, for that matter, Audrey hadn't yet put her ambition to bed; wasn't there something she could do to liven up the evening and perhaps hit the jackpot?
There was. Yes indeed. A way to make the night different, at least. Oh sure, every night was different in her racket, but tonight, well, tonight was going to be different.
"Rowena!"
"Yes, dear."
"Aren't you undressed yet?"
"Of course. Ages ago. Darling, I'm already in bed. Aren't you coming? If you stay in there much longer I'm liable to fall asleep."
"Hah!"
"Audrey? Didn't you hear what-"
"I heard you, I heard you. And I repeat-hah! You'd better not plan on getting any sleep tonight. Or any rest, either. So you can just get your ass out of bed right now. Come on in here, honeybunch. I need you."
"In the bathroom? Are you going to bathe now? You want me to scrub your back?"
"Never mind the questions. Just come on." Audrey parked herself on the John, suddenly tense with anticipation. "I really do need you, Rowena."
"Uh-huh. Be right there."
Audrey waited impatiently. As the door swung wide, she leaped back in a posture of relaxation, hiding her inner tension behind a mask of indolence. Rowena stood there speechless, an expression of puzzlement on her face.
"As you can see, I'm not taking a bath and I don't need my back scrubbed. This is what I need." Audrey patted her belly and spread her legs lewdly. "This. Right here. I need my cunt sucked." Then, after a moment to let the shock wear off, "Well, my dear? I'm waiting."
"Darling ... oh, you really don't want-"
"Don't tell me what I want or don't want. I'm telling you. Stop fussing and do it. Suck my cunt. Just be my beautiful and obedient slave girl and make me happy. Right here and now, suck my cunt!
In apparent agony, Rowena took a step forward. Then another, her feet dragging. But at last she reached the toilet bowl and sank to the tiled floor. There was anguish in her eyes as she bent her head slowly. And for one excruciating instant, Audrey was all but overcome by doubt. But there could be no reneging now, no face-saving possibility, and she grabbed the silver-blond head with both hands and pulled it between her thighs. Only when she felt the tiny thrust of that tongue down there did her hands slacken their grip. A little whimper sounded, but there was no sign of resistance and the bowed head stayed in place deferentially.
"Well, dear? What was all the hesitation for, were you playing a virgin losing her cherry or something? When I tell you to suck my cunt, don't give me any argument, just give me your mouth. Just do it, that's all. In a bed or on the sofa or swinging from the chandelier or right here in the bathroom, it makes no difference-you just suck when I tell you to, understand?"
The silver-blond head bobbed assent, and Audrey savored her moment of triumph. The pretty face was buried in her cunt and she could feel every touch and lick of that solicitous tongue. More important, though, was the recognition of a gradual change in the style of the caress, a sense of abandon as technical skill gave way to passion. A kind of feverish greed. Now the open mouth was sucking with hot fury . and the tongue turned eagerly aggressive, searching for its own erotic satisfaction instead of making the usual artful overtures around the clitoris. It was a highly auspicious omen, Audrey decided, nothing definite yet, but a clue surely, a clue to the button that might some day make her the manager of a very exclusive lesbian pleasure resort. A rather noisy clue at the moment, the sound of all that furious cuntlapping bouncing up with a kind of echo-chamber effect. It was loud, sure enough, loud and resonant and wildly erotic, the sweet sound of a slippery wet mouth slurping away at a slippery wet cunt, sweet enough in itself but now amplified a thousand fold to turn every faint rustle into a crescendo of deliciously exquisite rhythms and harmonies. She found herself craving more of it, more sweet music, more sweet sucking, more sweet sensation, more of all this strange sweetness that shocked her with its intensity. As though she had discovered some hidden button of her own.
Outdoors the weather was fine, but here inside the house there was a storm brewing and Luanne felt as if the black cloud was centered right over her head. And it was her own fault, much as she hated to make that humiliating admission-although she had put on her coy little act out of fun rather than malice. Or at least she had started that way, figuring it would end in a few days, just as soon as her mother left for Europe. Only the old lady had crossed her up, postponing her trip and hanging around a couple of weeks longer.
Even then Luanne knew she should have played it cool until the old lady left. But the joy of teasing that big butchy animal was simply more than she could resist. Tessa was like a child herself, a great big dumb overgrown child; oh shit, she was wide open for any kind of put-on, and the temptation had just been too much for Luanne. Even with her mother still around, she had just gone on with her teasing game, acting like the sexiest little sexpot in the world in front of Tessa. Only in front of Tessa, of course, and never within range of the old lady or any of the other servants. That became pretty obvious after a while, obvious enough so that even Tessa wasn't too dumb to notice it. And now at last the old lady had left for foreign climes and that storm cloud was getting more oppressive every hour. It was bound to break soon; the old servants were probably asleep by now, and this was Tessa's first chance to spill her guts.
Luanne fidgeted. She would never get to sleep feeling like this; if the storm didn't break tonight it would be just the same thing over again tomorrow. More than she could bear. Oh shit, one way or the other she had to get it settled, why not go knock on Tessa's door right now?
No sooner said than done. Luanne wore a sedate robe for the occasion, the most dignified one she had. And this time, as it turned out, Tessa was the sexy type. If a woman with that many muscles could ever be called sexy! It wasn't a bikini she had on, exactly, but those two pieces sure looked pretty skimpy on that big body. It was her exercise outfit, she said. There was a mat on the floor of her room and she had just been giving herself a workout. A health nut, how about that? But a successful one, no doubt, and Luanne was impressed by her physical appearance. She had more muscles than most of the men around town, that was for sure. And damn little fat. That big ass of hers was really something with just the one small garment covering the crack, and Luanne almost got dizzy watching those huge haunches waggle. Only she couldn't afford to show any interest at that point-or even relax, for that matter-since they were jabbing at each other with words, and the words were getting nastier all the time. The room smelled kind of funny, too. She kept sniffing a mixture of Tessa's sweat on her own perfume-just what a busy whorehouse would smell like, she figured, hardly an atmosphere conducive to signing a peace pact. Although the chances of that seemed slim anyway; Tessa didn't sound very interested in letting bygones be bygones, and pretty soon Luanne stopped trying to be nice, too. And that was when it happened. Storm!
Somehow the big bitch of a maid launched into the one criticism that Luanne couldn't tolerate. She didn't use the specific word, but what she said was enough to make Luanne see red. What right did Tessa have to say nasty things about her boyfriends and about how a young girl shouldn't be going out and getting laid every night in the week; no, she didn't say nympho, but she made Luanne feel like one and that was bad enough. Or even worse. So there they were, standing and glaring at each other, one next-to-naked giant-size woman with the muscles of a linebacker, and one demurely robed pint-size schoolgirl with nothing but her own anger to fight back with-oh shit, she was mad!-and then somehow everything changed all of a sudden. It was her eyes that did it. Tessa's eyes. There was something more than anger in those dark eyes, something pretty weird. Luanne couldn't tell what it was, though, at least not until she felt it herself. And that was just as weird, maybe twice as weird, because the storm was already breaking and she had never felt so sexy in her life ... yeah, sexy ...
There were beads of sweat slicking that skin. The whorehouse smell was fantastic, sexier than anything that ever came in a bottle. Luanne's insides flamed. Oh wow! Was it really happening? Tessa was coming toward her, bearing down upon her like some big brute of a man bent on rape. It made her feel like a weak little virgin. Her cheeks were hot, hot and red for sure, and she really had something to blush about because she was in a fight that she didn't want to win and didn't dare lose. As often as she had been fucked in her young life, now she was about to lose her cherry! And on a mat, imagine, a gym-type wrestling mat, a place for competition, not cooperation.
Somewhere along the line she was pleased to note that the big woman did have tits-kind of nice, too, in a small way-anyway, they were both naked now and that solid body was jamming itself against her, tits on tits and cunt on cunt. She wasn't chicken or anything like that, but those muscles were just too much for her, too strong for a little kid getting fucked for the first time and worrying about how awful it would be. An it was awful, oh shit, yes, awful, she couldn't fight back, she couldn't fight at all, and that rugged body was bucking and rearing and plunging and smashing down to crush the life out of her; she was being raped, yes, raped, and wasn't it awful to know that she couldn't do a damn thing but lie there and take it? The most awful scary thrill she had ever known ...
"How are you doing, Ricky? Having trouble?"
"Well, I could sure use some help. I just messed up the zipper and now I'm all thumbs trying to fix -it. A case of nerves, huh? This is so new to me."
"You'll learn to love it. The feel of soft nylon and lace on your skin. Don't worry, you'll soon get the hang of it."
"I-I love it already. Naomi, you sure picked out some beautiful things for me to wear."
"Let's get you into them, shall we? Hey, you are nervous. You're 'trembling, darling. Come now, relax. I'll get the zipper straightened out for you."
"Oh, it's all right, I'll just try-"
"I said relax!" Naomi's tone was edgy. "Sometimes I can get very angry, my dear. So you'd better pay attention or I'm liable to spank that cute bottom of yours." The jammed zipper slid into place under her nimble fingers. "All done, see? Now we'll do the finishing touches."
"Finishing touches? Oh ... "
"That's right. Makeup."
The boy nodded, turning his face up meekly. Working carefully, meticulously, Naomi experimented with the newly purchased cosmetics kit. Heavy eye-shadow, light lipstick. A dab of this and a spot of that. Experimental but taking on permanence.
"It-it feels greasy."
"Don't complain. Same as the clothes, you'll soon learn to love it. Keep your head up now, I don't want to spoil it." After a while she stepped away and surveyed her masterpiece with a sense of pride. "There. All finished. Take a look."
He gasped at his reflection in the full-length mirror. "Hey, I like that." Then, with a graceful pirouette, "Naomi, you've really made me beautiful."
"Of course. Aren't you my darling girl? My beautiful golden-haired lesbian. But let's .not dawdle, dear-now I'd like you to become accustomed to your clothes. Walk around a little and let me see how they look on you."
"Oh! These darn heels. They're so high! I just can't seem to move without wobbling. So awkward ... "
"You'll learn. That's something every girl has to go through sooner or later. The styles change, but high heels keep coming back. And they do the most for a pretty leg, too. So don't despair, darling, just keep trying."
Smiling, she tossed herself upon the bed lazily and watched the lovely blond creature take faltering steps around the room. Ricky's blushing subservience had a certain romantic charm and he seemed to catch the spirit of the occasion quite naturally. As though he had been born for it and was only now lucky enough to make that profound discovery.
"Naomi? How do I look?"
"Keep walking."
"I feel so funny in the heels."
"You're hunched over. Straighten up. Uh-huh. Better, much better. Look at yourself when you pass the mirror. See how beautiful you are? Be proud of your body. A woman's body is her greatest asset. Flaunt it, don't hide it."
"Oh ... yes ... you're so right."
"Don't stop to admire yourself, just glance and keep going. You've got to get used to the heels."
Bravely, the boy kept walking. Minutes passed, long minutes, and the erratic quiver of his flesh was mute evidence of approaching exhaustion. Tiny beads of perspiration broke out here and there, glistening in the afternoon light.
Naomi followed his troubled career in amused silence. Until the pace began to taper off a little. "You're dragging now. Don't slow down." Still keeping close tabs on him, she sat up to adjust a wrinkled fold of her negligee and then fell back upon the pillows again, one leg dangling over the side of the bed. Lover-boy's gait had been reduced to a wobble by then, a poignant indication of his need for sympathy, and at last she relented. "That's enough for today. Or for a while, anyway. Take a rest."
"Oooh, thanks. Just in time." There were chairs available, but almost automatically he dropped a pillow to the floor and sat down upon it. He leaned back against the bed, bonelessly fluid, resting his cheek lightly on the nylon surface of her dangling leg. "How did I do? Pretty bad, huh?"
"You .were fine. I was enjoying it. You looked so beautiful that I didn't want you to stop."
"�ay the word and I'll get up again."
"No. Relax. Rest period." She reached over and stroked his soft hair. "Let's just drift a little, hmm?"
He kissed her hand. "I'm drifting ... " Then, "Naomi? Okay if I drift in this direction?" His lips glided down her leg, down to her foot, out of her range of vision but very much within the scope of certain other senses. He humbled himself with apparent pleasure, finding even that one small foot worthy of prolonged and detailed adoration.
She let him. Until the rising urgency in her flesh demanded something more direct than mere drifting, and she uttered a mild murmur of command calculated to stir him to broader action without putting a dent in his worshipful trance. His deliciously girlish response delighted her, ah yes, she was quite enamored of this freaky little lesbian lad who had become such, an integral part of her existence. And once again, as had happened so often in the past, they reached a point in their lovemaking where a touch of novelty seemed in order ...
"Oh, that's just grand, darling. But let me feel your hands too, your nice soft lesbian hands."
"Mmm?"
"Yes, like that. Wander around, have fun. But don't forget your tongue or my poor ass will be so sad. Ah! Fuck my ass with that hot lesbian tongue of yours, good, good, good!"
"Mmm ... love it ... "
He did, too, yes indeed, her lover was sure loving it. Loving her asshole. Driving his tongue in deep and then pulling it back out again. Fucking that hot little hole with his tongue, that squirmy wet tongue, fucking! But it was his hands that planted the seed of novelty, hands slipping beneath her body and playing around there, gliding over her thighs and belly, toying with the hair. It hardly seemed possible that she could have gotten any hotter, but those hands of his were actually doing it.
A brand-new impatience surged inside her. She lurched up into a crouch on the bed, spreading her legs and lifting her ass higher. Stretching a little, way up now. Until it was pushing back at Ricky's burrowing face. The movement was a dismal failure at first; his tongue slipped out and she suffered a painful moment of emptiness, a time of panic. But with great presence of mind, the dear boy licked up and down the crack a few times and found it again, the hold, her aching asshole, the place that had the need-and than, all together, his hand and his tongue struck and turned her wild with erotic lust. Fingers in her cunt. Tongue in her ass. Thrills and chills and some lovely new frills-Naomi and Ricky, perfect, a darling lesbian and her lesbian darling ...
Chapter 9
"Do it, damn you!"
"Yes ... oh ... Rowena ... "
"How come you were so slow, you stupid slut? Have you forgotten how it used to be between us? You must have. Why haven't you been out here to see me lately? Still fucking around with that little high school girl?"
"N-no. I've just been busy. The bookshop ... "
"You and that goddam bookstore. Listen, don't quit on me, you can talk with a mouthful of cunt, can't you?"
"Oh. You want me to-"
"Suck! Un-huh. You still know how, honey, I'll say that for you. There sure aren't many better cuntlappers around."
It was a compliment, surely, but Hazel didn't even know if she was pleased or not, she was just too darn mixed up these days. Even Rowena seemed different somehow, although that might have been just the thing about the whip. Funny. No whip. Rowena without a whip? Hmm. Maybe she did have a crush on that girlfriend of hers, the one with the green eyes -what else could possibly make her so mellow? Rowena Kyle in love, imagine! There was something kind of odd about that girl, though, she just didn't fit in with ...
"Hazel, listen. Has there been any talk around town that I ought to know about? Anything not strictly legit?"
"Umm ... no ... none that I know of,"
"Then maybe it isn't such a gossipy town after all. Maybe I shouldn't even take that factor into consideration, hmm?"
"Mmm ... maybe ... "
"No opinion yourself?"
"Darling, how can I suck your cunt and talk business at the same time? I can suck and talk sexy, sure, but I'm sorry, I just can't manage the two-"
"Okay, don't get huffy, I guess I'm getting a little nervous about it, that's all. Down to the wire, you know? I've got to make my mind up one way or the other. That agent of mine keeps bugging me-you know, the one I told you about?-oh shit, you'd think it was his money instead of mine."
"You do sound upset, Rowena. And the final decision will have to be yours alone. My own opinion hasn't changed any, I still think you could run into trouble here-but that's not important anymore, is it? You've got something else on your mind, from what I gather. But I won't pry, darling, I'm sure you'll work it out. And meanwhile, uh, must we still talk business? Are you going to leave me with this cunty taste in my mouth and that's all?"
"Okay. First things first. Hooray for cunt!"
"Just your cunt, that's what I'm hungry for."
"Well, come on, you lazy bitch, here it is! Suck!"
That was better. Hazel clutched the soft buttocks and pulled hard and lost herself for a while in the pulsating gash between the hairy lips of the only cunt that meant cunt to her. And vaguely she realized that it was pretty darn important to her, perhaps even as much as the bookshop. So the hell with worrying about business and such, the hell with everything but this lovely hot sensation of soft cunty flesh ...
"Hey! Honey, swing around."
"Hmm?"
"Swing around, I said. Didn't you hear me? Come on, bitch, swing your ass up this way."
"You-you mean you want-"
"Come on, a little sixty-nine. Get your ass up over me so I can have some fun with that pussy of yours."
"Oh ... "
"Come on, come on. Hurry!"
Hazel didn't mind hurrying, and the idea was even a little bit exciting to her, it was the thing that lovers did. Lovers in love and loving each other- and hadn't she been in love with this one woman all her life? Anyway, the move was already executed and she might as well go along with it. Even if it did seem futile to her, somehow.
She felt her buttocks being hauled down as the seeking tongue thrust upward and licked in search of her clitoris. Eagerly, she bent her body and again dipped her face into Rowena's gaping slit. But it felt all wrong. Sitting way up on top like this, how could she be herself, how could she feel like a stupid bitch of a masochistic cunt? Oh shit, now Rowena couldn't even call her names! Only the names hadn't sounded like much either this time. Pretty-dull, in fact, just as dull as this. Hmm. Whatever happened to the lurid relationship they used to have? Whatever happened to the glorious goddess and her almighty whip?
Talk about striking it rich! Mother's little nympho never had it so goddam good. When the cat's away ...
"What's so funny, Missy?"
"I am. You are. The whole world. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Feeling pretty chipper today, huh? That's my girl."
"Oh yes, I am, I am. I'm your girl, Tessa,"
"No more boyfriends? Back seat romances?"
"No more. I promise."
"Girlfriends? You know the kind I mean."
"Uh-huh. That's all over, too. Or it will be as soon as I make a couple of phone calls."
"Okay. You're my girl, Miss Luanne. I guess you want me to finish your massage now, huh? Let's see, where were we ... "
"Tessa? Aren't you uncomfortable in that uniform?"
"Kid, you're going to make a nudist out of me."
"Well. I'm naked."
"So what else is new? Here. Do my buttons. I'm not ashamed to show you my little tits."
"They're pretty. Not as pretty as your ass, though. Or maybe it's just me. I guess I must be an ass-freak, huh?"
"This what you're talking about?"
"Ooh! Beautiful ... "
"Be still now. I'm going to do you."
The quivering began again the instant the big hands touched her. Luanne wondered if it would always be like this. She hoped so. Wasn't it great to feel so sexy all the time? Great to stay out of trouble, too, even if that wasn't her own idea. Tessa was so jealous. Hmm. The phone calls, she'd have to remember to get it done, Kind of a good turn, putting those two in touch with each other. Naomi and Hazel. Maybe it would work out. Anyway, she was burning her bridges, she belonged to Tessa now ...
"How's that feel, Missy?"
"Scrumptious."
"This too?" Tessa's hand darted. "This?" The, "Pretty hot, huh? Want me to finish you off?"
"Nope. Not yet. Make it last."
"Rascal. And what'll you do for me? Don't answer that-I'd better keep my mind on my work."
The hands were gone for the moment, and Luanne turned her head. Tessa had swung around to open a jar or something, standing over her little table of creams and oils and lotions. Luanne got that feeling again; it never failed. Hot and dizzy and wondering if she dared. Oh shit, what could she lose? Now if she could only climb down off the massage table ...
"Hey! Where you going? I'm not finished yet."
"Finish me later. I'm being sneaky. Turn around again ... make believe you didn't see me."
"Yeah. I'll bet you see me, though. You should, it's big enough. I guess maybe I've got the biggest ass in the world."
It was big and beautiful and the most exciting thing Luanne had ever known. All that strength and power and dynamic energy packed into one female ass. Huge round cheeks and the dark crack between. Dark and mysterious trench. Deep enough to get all of her face and most of her head in there if she tried hard enough. Un-huh. Easy. Funny thing though, the little hole was so tight and tiny, just the tightest and tiniest little nook; she always had to suck it first, suck it right into her mouth and soften it up good before the tip of her tongue could squeeze through. Sometimes it took quite a while, too, but then, well, everything got nice and slick and slippery and she didn't have to try hard or be careful or anything like that, she could just relax and play around inside there and just enjoy ...
"Missy Luanne, you sure got a way with you. How can a little girl have such a big tongue! Big tits, big tongue ... "
"Undo the catch, will you? Thanks. Wait for me, will you? I'm going to take a shower."
The sight of that naked body made Rowena go tense. The lovely breasts. Smoothly domed buttocks. Slender waist flaring out to rounded hips. For an instant she wished Audrey had invited her along into the shower.
And yet it was a strange fascination that she felt, the kind of fascination that a little bird feels for the beady-eyed snake that hypnotizes before it attacks. A fascination laced with fear. It was too much, too much, enough to drive her insane if she didn't find some way to break it off soon. Some burst of courage ...
"Rowena!"
"You want something?"
"Come here and help me." The demanding voice sounded above the gush of the shower. "Better get undressed though, or your clothes will get wet."
She tossed off her garments hurriedly and trotted to the bathroom. The water stopped running and Audrey stood in the shower stall, her body dripping. She looked almost unreal, her legs apart, her stance implying a certain regality, a nude goddess just dropped out of the clouds.
"Soap me. All over."
The command came as a shock. Rowena felt a pang of dismay, but was only too well aware of the desire tugging at her loins. She took the cake of soap and set to work with both hands, coating the girl's arms and breasts and upper torso with frothy lather. Then her hands moved lower, grazing the intimate softness of the delicately curved belly and dipping down to rub the insides of the spraddled thighs. A small upward motion gave her a fleeting contact that renewed the tug of desire inside her; quickly, she attempted a repetition ...
"No. Not yet. Stay away from my cunt. Everything else first. Do my legs and feet now."
She stooped to obey. But the crouch was uncomfortable, and at last she settled to the wet tile floor, curving her long limbs under her, a tight fit inside the tiny cubicle. Head bowed now, she soaped the dainty feet as Audrey lifted them one at a time to allow access to the soles and arches.
The girl uttered a murmur of satisfaction and Rowena continued her delectable chore, letting her slippery palms glide up the ankles and calves. A lovely lust overwhelmed her; impulsively-as if of their own volition-her fingers raced upward in search of that intimate contact again.
"Quit that. Finish my legs."
Chastened, Rowena resumed her labor. She reached the upper thighs and was presented with a new surface as the girl turned her back and went into that spraddle-legged stance once more. Permission was implicit in her .very posture, and Rowena resoaped her hands and focused her attention upon the firmly jutting buttocks that quivered and then went taut under her ministrations.
A moment later the muscles slackened and let her fingers steal into the depth between the soft domes. She moved hesitantly, not knowing how far she might go. But from above there was a sharp intake of breath and the words that paved the way:
"Yes ... there ... "
Rowena worked with intensified vigor.
"Careful! Your nails. Don't scratch me."
"Sorry."
It took a long time. Then the beautiful body rotated again and positioned itself for the ultimate cleansing. That took a long time, too. Rowena's heart thumped madly and threatened to burst from her bosom, but she managed to retain control of her wits and perform her delicate task with painstaking precision.
"Rinse me off now." Audrey twisted the knob and allowed the water to warm up for a moment, then she opened the valve full force. "Rinse me with your hands."
The coating of lather was thick, turning to great gobs of suds as Rowena's cupped palms swept it downward. The slippery sensation was marvelous. Even after the soap was washed away, she wanted to go on and on like that.
But the girl was telling her something, and in the downpour she couldn't quite make it out. Then there were fingers in her hair, inexorable in their demand, guiding her head and turning it face upward until she was on her knees and no longer in doubt, about the unheard words. Ah yes, she knew what Audrey wanted of her, she knew and was so happy to part her lips and ...
No!
Imperious fingers clutched and held her in place, then the shouted command pierced the sound-veil of the shower and she could do nothing but obey and suffer the drenching torrent in a welter of ecstatic degradation that bordered on sheer lunacy.
Traffic was light and the driving easy as Hazel handled the wheel of her car and engaged her companion in conversation. At the same time, though, despite the ostensibly casual tone of the talk, she was terribly conscious of the voluptuous body shifting around next to her on the seat. How strange! Strange to meet an old acquaintance in circumstances that automatically dictated a change in the relationship.
She had known Naomi Woodruff for a few years, but only as a customer in her bookshop and a "hello and how are you" friend. And now all of a sudden something new had been added, with little Luanne Stroud acting as the go-between by telephone. At this point they were feeling each other out, of course, thus far avoiding anything more intimate than the mutual confession of why they were taking this friendly drive together.
Actually the conversation hadn't been so casual either, the main topic having been undecided status of the Summertree estate. Rowena Kyle had gone home to New York to make her final decision, and quite naturally Naomi was interested, her husband having been the realtor involved. And since the project was still known as a "health farm," Hazel had seen no harm in acknowledging her past friendship with Rowena. Naomi had even pumped her for information, pressing her for details in a straightforward manner, especially about the business reputation of the other agent, the New York man who had shared the work and would be splitting the commission with Bert Woodruff. Apparently a great deal of money was hanging in the balance.
But even that was no more than secondary to the main reason for getting together, a reason unspoken as yet-and it seemed evident now that Luanne had been remarkably discreet with both of them, telling no secrets other than the secret, the one already implicit in her role as go-between. And now that the chatter had bogged down somewhat, there was bound to be some awkward tension until one or the other spoke up with a view toward clearing the murky air.
"Hazel, were you planning to stop somewhere? For tea, perhaps? Where are we going? You never did say."
"Nowhere. No plans. I'm just driving to give us the chance to talk. Heaven knows, we sure need it."
"Never mind heaven, I think we're a little too wicked for that. Seriously, though, why don't we just pull into some side road and park? And you can look at me instead of out the windshield."
The real meaning didn't escape Hazel. It was an overture, pure and simple, the first of the day. She had been digging out some cigarettes at the moment, and now she covered her mild embarrassment by offering the pack. Despite her driving chore, she found herself staring with all but unconcealed fascination at the scarlet fingernails of the meticulously manicured hand that plucked a cigarette from the pack and lifted it to moist scarlet lips.
Silence hung for a small eternity, chafing her nerves to a state of screaming suspense. Until at last she forced herself to function enough to hold up the dashboard lighter. The lips pursed, the columned throat straining gracefully and then letting the dark-haired head tilt backward to release the first puff-cloud of smoke. After that, Hazel looked for a side road in a hurry.
It was hardly more than a narrow lane. And quite bumpy. But it was off the main road and comparatively private. More so than she had figured on, really, almost like a parking place for lovers, and once again she felt embarrassed. And this time, quite pointedly, Naomi insisted on adding to her embarrassment.
"You sure found a side road, honey. Charming spot for a seduction, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh. Please ... "
"What's the matter?"
"I'm embarrassed."
"Are you? Silly girl."
There was a sudden movement as Naomi reached over to clasp her hand soothingly. Their separate gazes locked and Hazel was conscious of bright black eyes, bold and penetrating. The handclasp slackened but didn't end; then, slowly, insistently, those sharply filed scarlet nails were digging into her palm. She stared helplessly, drowning in the liquid depths of the dark gaze, feeling the increasing agony in her hand and yet remaining motionless, incapable of summoning up sufficient strength to break loose.
"Hazel?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm hurting you."
"Umm ... "
"You'll have marks on your hand later. My marks. When you go to bed tonight ..."
"Oh!"
"I'm a sadistic bitch, you know."
"No. I-I didn't know."
"Well, you do now. Want to quit?"
"Quit?"
"Silly girl. Too ,silly to quit when you had the chance. It's gone now. You can't escape. I've burned my brand into you."
"Naomi, I-I had no idea you were like this."
"You had no idea, period. I'm going to let go now. Will that make you happy?"
"I-I don't know."
"Well, let's figure it out then. Are you excited right now? Is your cunt wet?"
"Naomi!"
"Mine is. Want to see? Look. No panties, either. A wet cunt and no panties, isn't that awful?"
Hazel was only vaguely aware that her hand had been allowed its freedom. She was in a state of shock now, utterly demoralized by the series of brazen words and actions that had climaxed with the lifting of Naomi's skirt. Her stomach churned queasily, but despite her revulsion she couldn't tear her gaze away from the lurid sight between those obscenely spread thighs. The scarlet cunt-lips glistening through the hairy black thatch; so lewd! And so exciting, too, only she kept wishing they hadn't turned off the main road to come and park here like a couple of lovers; oh shit, now they were a couple of lovers and the floor mat was biting into her knees and she just knew for a certainty that she was going to be embarrassed to tears afterward with her face all red and shiny and smeared with hot cunt and no place to wash up; wouldn't it smell just awful? Although it wasn't so bad now, really, not nearly as bad as the way Naomi was sitting there and talking to her and frightening her half to death with all that crazy nonsense about her duties as a slave and how she was going to learn to take those duties seriously even if it had to be pounded into her ass with a hairbrush or a paddle or a great big wicked whip ...
The nightmare was over. This was what she needed, a hot tongue in her cunt to spark the old Rowena Kyle back to life. Something to make her strong again, strong and independent, the Rowena Kyle of old, the office boss who snapped out orders and got the work done. Not the Rowena Kyle on her knees ...
"Glad to have me back, Pam?"
"Umm. You don't know how glad, Miz Kyle. I've been thinking about this ever since you went away."
"Thinking about what?"
"This. Right here. Thinking about how I'm going to lay my head down on your pretty cunt and never get up again. But couldn't we talk about it later, ma'am? Couldn't I just lay here nice and quiet and suck your cunt until you come in my mouth? It's been so long since you gave me that one little taste ... "
"I'm all yours, darling. Suck. No more interruptions. Not even if you swallow me forever."
"Miz Kyle, I just love you ... "
Ah yes, this was what she needed, a docile Pam Donate to make her feel safe and secure again. Safe and secure and happy in her work, a happy business executive with no delusions of grandeur, no dreams of million-dollar lesbian pleasure resorts. (Hmm. Delusions of gender?) Oh shit, she was glad that was over with. The deal was off, no matter what. Even if they cut the price in half. Too bad, in a way, because she really might have made a go of it. But she had gotten off to a wrong start-right here in this office, too. Pretty stupid, taking a whore along as a companion. Pretty stupid to let it go that far, too, far enough so that the only way to get rid of her had been to call off the whole deal. Anyway, the whore was gone now, out of her life, deadly as a ruptured appendix but just as harmless after the operation. And now, well, let that nice accommodating little cuntlapper down there nurse her back to health again. Pam Donate. Or any reasonable facsimile. Oh shit, the feeling was coming on already, and wasn't it simply grand?
Rowena moaned. The sound seemed to spur that tongue to even greater activity. Ah yes, how she loved what the kid was doing to her. How she loved the adoration, the worship, the understanding and acceptance of the fact that all of this was designed for her pleasure and hers alone. Especially this!
It was upon her now, the beautiful moment, and she shut her eyes and wallowed in sensuality. Or at least she tried to. Only she saw it again, the thing, the awful thing. At the instant of climax, too, the instant that should have been unadulterated ecstasy, oh shit, there it was the thing, the ghost, the vision that wouldn't let her alone. The arrogantly posed body above her, smooth-skinned, silky-haired, so close, so terribly close, taunting her and showering its degradation into the breathless open-mouthed kiss that was like the last gasp of a drowning swimmer. Oh, that bitch! Audrey. Even from that nasty angle, such a beautiful bitch ...
Downstairs, the front door slammed and then heavy footsteps sounded on the stairway.
"Bert? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me. You still awake?"
The question reached no answer, and in the few short moments before he reached the top of the stairs and entered the bedroom, Naomi allowed herself the luxury of a long catlike stretch. She smiled happily, her face alive with a secret animation, the portrait of a woman with no worries about her next orgasm.
Bert came in, and she sensed immediately that something had gone wrong. A dreary look on his face, morose, hangdog, everything matching the sag of his belly. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders in a slump.
"Trouble. Bad trouble."
"Oh?"
"It's definite about Summertree. Deal's off. Just had a long talk with Rowena Kyle's agent. Nice guy, you know? But all he could give me was bad news."
"I'm sorry. But it's no catastrophe, is it?"
"It is for me. Guys around town will never trust me again. They lost money on that woman, taking my advice. I even had the big boys all stirred up and ready to fix the roads." He slumped lower, his voice cracking. "I'm a leper already." Then, leaning backward, he turned and buried his face in her bosom. "Naomi, I've made such a mess of things ... "
"Hush, dear." She patted the back of his head sympathetically. "It's not the end of the world."
His body trembled and her heart went out to him. Obnoxious as he could be at times, he was still her husband. "Cry it out, Bert. Your Naomi will take care of you."
But she soon realized that he was in no mood for crying. His lips were touching her, burrowing between her breasts, and then as his tongue glided warm and wet over her flesh she knew what he really wanted.
She sighed. Well, why not? A cure for the blues. And he was pretty horny, too, clawing at her, kissing her, starting a pit of fire blazing in her vitals. What the hell, the guy was her husband of long standing ...
No! Not that! Never again!
His hand was pushing her, shoving her head down. She resisted firmly and pulled away.
"Naomi, what-"
She clapped her hand over his mouth and spoke in a fierce whisper. "No. Not like that, Bert. Do you understand?"
There was shock in his eyes. Almost panic. And then they turned soft and began to plead mutely. His lips moved, but they weren't speaking, only kissing. Kissing her palm.
"Yes. That's better. Because it's your turn now, Bert. Do you understand? Your turn ... " She moved her hand slowly. Hips lips followed it. And gradually she pulled it toward her body, careful to maintain contact with his kissing mouth. Until at last she took her hand away completely and leaned back upon the pillow, raising her arms up over her head and letting herself drift in languorous abandon. But it was hardly an aimless drift. Nor would it ever be again, she realized, never again. For she was in control now, and wasn't it sweet?
But she was used to it now, of course, this was merely another conquest in a growing chain. A very useful conquest, though, in view of the possibilities. For instance, wasn't it about time he hired a bright young man and taught him the real estate business? Hmm. The two of them together, the idea was exciting. For that matter, maybe Bert had some freaky tendencies of his own, maybe he was more than just another agent to that so-called faggoty little bastard who had acted on behalf of Rowena Kyle. Maybe he would simply swoon over her darling lesbian lover-boy. He could sure take lessons from him, that was obvious. As a cuntlapper, poor Bert left much to be desired. But at least he was human now, no longer the male chauvinist prick he used to be; she might even start teaching him herself. Probably make a satisfactory ass-licker with a little effort. Oh, she had so much to do these days, what with whips to buy and books to read-one advantage of enslaving a bookshop proprietor-and a husband to guide, a husband who was already showing promise, slurp it down, you cuntlapper, yes indeed, with a little tutelage and training ...
