Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The DJ (Part 1) [copywrite Yuriko Shoujoai 2007(c)]

   It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when Hillary parked the modest Toyota
next to the glittering Porsche in space marked Station Manager.  She
sighed, up until a few months ago her life had been on track, she had been
part of one of the most successful morning teams in Cincinnati radio
history.  "Sinrise in Cincinnati" had meteorically risen in four years to
be Cincinnati's number one morning show.  The show was more than a trifle
risqué, taking a decided sexual outlook on mornings, where double-entendres
were the norm, listeners appreciated the `just within the bounds of
decency' comments and the quick repartee and the sexual tension between the
hosts.  Now she was parking a utility rental car in front of her own radio
station, nine hundred miles from home.

   The music and format for "Sinrise in Cincinnati" had been chosen to
appeal to a `middle of the road' audience.  Her partner and Co-host, Chris
Roberts was charming, good looking with a gravelly voice, thanks to two
packs of smokes a day, that men envied and women found attractive. 
Hillary's radio voice was husky and slightly breathless.  While she did not
consider herself beautiful, others did, she was certainly attractive with
an earthy sensuality.  The first thing you noticed, if she wasn't speaking,
was her face and hair.  Her face could grace the cover of any fashion
magazine.  Her brows were thick and sensual, she had high cheekbones, and
gray-flecked serene green eyes; her nose was straight and slender.  Her
mouth was wide and mobile with slightly fleshy lips, her teeth pearly white
and perfectly straight.  Her features were framed with long lustrous
slightly wavy auburn hair, that when worn straight back, reached the base
of her spine.  Listeners had voted her's the sexiest voice in Cincinnati.
The show had been cited for numerous radio and broadcasting awards, and the
resurgence in popularity of the name Hillary, among the citizens of
Cincinnati, for their baby daughters.

   The pair did `guest appearances' on Breakfast TV from their studio,
Hillary was often invited to be a guest of Regis & Kelly.  Billboards with
their faces, advertised `Sinrise in Cincinnati' were plastered throughout
the city.  There were posters on walls, huge outdoor signs as well as on
taxicabs, municipal busses and park benches.  Their show drew a larger
audience than the corresponding Morning TV broadcast; they were Sinrise in
Cincinnati.

   Her world was a fishbowl, as a local celebrity, every bit of her life
became news, Wives, lovers and significant others wore and colored their
hair to match her's.  Women mimicked her slightly breathless and sensual
tone, cute giggles, and her special coy and sexually charged unscripted
comments.  If she was seen at a nightclub or restaurant, its reputation was
made.  Then ever so slowly, rumors surfaced, first, being seen in the
company with, then, whispers she was the companion of a well-known lesbian
lawyer.  At first the station was understated in their denial, then
vehemently denied the reports, their PR department worked overtime trying
to undo the damage.  She and Chris were seen eating together in intimate
restaurants, dancing at various clubs, coming to work together in the same
car, much to his rather dowdy wife's embarrassment, but the gossip refused
to abate that Cincinnati's sexiest voice was in fact a lesbian.

   The station Director pulled Hillary into his office and tried to wring
the truth out of her.  She remained stoic in her denial.  Then the ratings
started dropping, although the Gay Lesbian Community put their considerable
weight behind her, in fact, it did the opposite, they did her case no good.
She was given a month's leave, after that, first a paid, then finally an
unpaid suspension, "until these rumors die down".  It became obvious,
during the enforced sabbatical that she was being replaced by a Californian
bleached blonde called Christie, and the show was being reformatted as
Chris & Christie in Cincinnati.

   Urbane and amiable, with all the loyalty of a rodent jumping from a
sinking ship, Chris made it blatantly obvious that he was distancing
himself from his previous co-host.  Overnight new posters that appeared on
walls, busses and park benches as well as the billboards were advertising
Chris & Christie's faces.  The final straw was when her lawyer friend
refused to take her calls.

   She moped in her apartment, and rarely went out.  Her friends at first
were supportive but eventually they too left her to brood alone.  Her
worried parents finally traveled from her hometown to see her.  They showed
her an advertisement they had found for a small radio station near Alton NH
that they listened to occasionally.  Her attention was roused; she used the
few connections she had left within the industry to gather more
information. Recent surveys had put its daily listener-ship at under 10000,
but even if she liquidated every asset she could, she would not have enough
to buy it.  She sold her hi-rise apartment.  She was paid out a paltry ten
percent of her contract by the station and network, and ended the lease on
her ridiculously expensive Jaguar and sold off every possession that was
not necessary for everyday living.

   She set about bargaining and haggling for the station, at first only
trying to buy the transmitter and broadcasting license, the owner was
adamant and refused to sell her just the parts that would allow Hillary to
broadcast from any premises.  The intricate haggling began.  The price of
the complete bundle was lowered again and again, in order to meet her
counter offers, but it was still more than she could raise, finally her
parents stepped in with an unsolicited loan, enabling their desperate
daughter to buy the small town radio station from the owner who was going
through a mid-life crisis and wanting to relocate to the Caymans with a
woman half his age.  The negotiations were done telephonically and through
her father's broker and lawyers.  She ended up buying the station, the
furnishings and the building and land it was situated on, and gaining a
substantial mortgage.

   The station was situated in a converted firehouse set high up on top of
a hill on the outskirts and above the town and overlooking Lake
Winnipesaukee.  Although the license stated Alton New Hampshire, because of
the station's overly powerful transmitter and the topography, it also
reached the Concorde and Manchester areas as well and the coast.  Highways
11 and 28 are always busy, local motorists and long-distance truckers; use
WLBN for weather and traffic reports.  Her accountant father had gone over
the station's books and even though the owner had lost some of his
advertising accounts and the listener-ship was down, mainly due to a dated
and unimaginative format.  It became obvious that the station had been sold
for less, because the station had been operating at less than its full
potential.

   She opened the door to the station.  The papers had been signed, the
title was hers, and all that was needed was the transfer of the
broadcasting certificate into her name, it was now her radio station.  The
entrance hall had been kept like it was a firehouse still.  All that was
missing was a fire truck.  Instead, behind a huge almost bar-like counter a
receptionist sat with a mural and the logo of WLBN behind her.  Hillary
nodded at a big-breasted pretty young blonde.  "Hi, I'm Hillary Wilson. 
I'm here to see Jimmy Chadwick, I think he's expecting me." She said.

   The woman's fixed smile was as false as her boobs, hair color, and
probably her teeth.  She picked up the phone and hit a few digits and
whispered into the receiver.  "She's here Sugar."

   Jimmy Chadwick breezed through the door.  "Hey, Hillary, nice to meet
you!" He said, pumping her hand.  "Welcome to your new domain." He was
about forty, very tall man with broad shoulders, and thickening slightly in
the middle, and his hair was dark, untouched by gray or expertly
camouflaged.  He was green eyed and good looking with a sincere expression.
"You've met Adel." He said pointing to the imitation blonde at reception.
"Let me introduce you to the rest of the staff, they are all so excited."
He said, drawing her into the corridor.

   The corridor led into a large square room.  Three double-layered
glass-fronted anechoic studios faced into the room.  A longhaired man
wearing tattered jeans and a black `Grateful Dead' tee shirt was occupying
one of the studios.  He sported Raybans and headphones and was smoking a
cigarette while leaning back in his chair; scuffed cowboy boots were
propped up on the mixing table in front of him.  A naked red light bulb
blazed, and an illuminated sign, `ON AIR' warned the others that he was, in
fact, broadcasting.  Ozzie Osborn was ranting out to Crazy Train through a
pair of huge barroom speakers, the jock beneath the headphones nodded in
time to the music and played an air guitar.  The room was further furnished
with a pair of sofa's and occasional tables, a fridge and scarred desk.  A
closed door was stenciled `RECORD LIBRARY', and another marked `TOILET'
between the two doors a staircase led upwards and was labeled `MANAGER'. 
Four faces stared at her from the sofas and the chair at the desk, with
expressions that ranged from fear, to disdain.  No one except Jimmy looked
excited.

   Jimmy tried hard to ease the situation as he introduced his staff. 
"Meet Codi Brentwood." He said pointing to a woman sitting on the edge of
the sofa.  "She does the Morning Drive, and is our weather report
specialist." Codi, fair, fat and forty smiled bravely, and held her hand
out, they shook hands.  "I do the morning show." She said, as an
introduction.  Her voice belied her age and looks.  Jimmy continued.  "Here
is Mike Rockwell, our brave newsman, roving reporter and general fill in."
He said, pointing to an untidy man in his thirties in jeans and wearing an
earnest expression.  Mike rose to his feet when they shook hands; his were
cold and clammy.  "Pleased to meet you, Hillary.  " He said; his speaking
voice was crisp, clear and even.  Jimmy continued.  "This is Morgan
Bronson." He said introducing middle aged man sitting at the desk.  "Our
shock-jock and man-about-town," he does evenings, until we run the station
on automatic.  Morgan was short and although thin, had a bulging belly."
We've all heard so much about you Hillary." He drawled condescendingly. 
Jimmy blanched, before continuing.  "Hillary this is Kylie Titus, our
continuity girl and archivist.  Kylie sat, her smile was trite and her eyes
showed fear, she was short, with lank dark hair, and looked nine months
pregnant in a maternity dress.  Their hand shaking was brief.

   They all sat and just looked at her, she felt almost compelled to say
something.  "Its nice to meet you all, I'm sure we'll get on just fine, I
wont be doing anything radical, Jimmy has a great operation here, and I
don't want to mess with success.  But I've only just got here, so carry on
guys, I'll be settling in over the next few days, Jimmy will still be in
charge until the broadcasting certificate is transferred into my name." She
said.

   Jimmy almost glowed.  "I'll introduce you to Jerry.  " He said pointing
to the laid-back disk jockey, lolling back in his chair, nodding to Deep
Purple's `Smoke on the water' that was blasting through the speakers. 
"Jerry Taylor does the midday show."

   "And what to you do, Jimmy?" Hillary asked lightheartedly.

   "I do everything else, sell advertising, produce the shows, tape the
ads, voice overs, and run the station, with Adel's help, occasionally I do
a show when no one else is available, I don't get much time behind the mike
anymore." He said almost shyly.  "Now I think I could easily hand over the
reigns right now.  Lets have a week's transition until the end of the
month, you need to file the new broadcasting license in your name.  Adel
and I'll begin moving out this week end, you should be able to move in by
Monday where are you staying?" He asked.

   "I'm booked into, I think, the Wagon Wheels Motel, just out of town,
take all the time you need."

   They walked up the stairs marked `Manager" into a pleasantly furnished
sitting room.  The hardwood floor shone and was partially covered with a
Southwestern rug.  The room was furnished with relatively new comfortable
looking burgundy leather sofas, and matching lazyboy chairs, one wall was
dominated by an enormous big screen television set.  A large oak desk and
high backed executive chair, that matched the sofa and lazyboy chairs was
pushed against one wall.  The wall opposite consisted entirely of smoked
glass; and the view beyond, of the town and lake was breath taking.  Jimmy
pointed to a closed door.  That leads to the rest of our apartment, I'm
leaving the furnishings, drapes and kitchen appliances, either keep them or
throw them out, the sitting room suite I got a few years ago and we don't
use it much, neither Adel or myself are into TV much." He said.  He pulled
a piece of paper from a drawer and said.  "Sign here!" Pointing to the foot
of the page.

   Hillary scrawled her signature onto the application to transfer the
broadcasting license into her name.

   "Well how does it feel to own a radio station?" Jimmy asked as he folded
the document and placed it into an already addressed envelope, which he
sealed and placed in the out- tray, for mailing.

   "It feels like, like I'm just about to run the Boston Marathon and I'm
out of breath." She answered.

   "It will get easier, you have a great crew, I hand picked them, I
believe if you give them some new direction, and shake the station out of
its doldrums, you can be very successful.  That's the reason I sold it to
you, I've had you checked out, I know all about you, I believe in you, I
did have other offers, offering way more, but I want to see WLBN operate as
an independent, not be swallowed up by some corporate network and disappear
into oblivion.  I know you are the person this radio station needs."

   The rest of the day was a blur, She finally met Alton's own version of
Dr Johnny Fever, who turned out to be just as flaky as Howard Hesseman's
character in WKRP.

   She drove towards the motel, the air was clear and as the afternoon sun
began to sink over the horizon, her hunger made her stop at the restaurant
attached to the motel before going to her room.  The interior of the diner
was very "New Hampshire" and she was the only customer.  She found herself
being seated at a small table and served by a dark haired waitress dressed
in a drab dark gray blouse and matching skirt.  Her shiny hair was pulled
and tied into a pair of braids beginning symmetrically above each ear.  A
nametag announced she was `MARISKA'.  She was deathly pale with over
accentuated black eye shadow and nightshade lipstick giving her a slightly
haunting quality that was counterbalanced by a quirky grin.  The waitress
took her order for Clam Chowder with a glass of white house wine and
returned with a basket filled with fresh buns and a small pot of real
butter, and the glass of white wine, before hurrying over to a laptop
computer discreetly tucked away behind the counter, and began typing away.

   Hillary watched as the Goth girl typed and stared at the screen and
giggled occasionally, then typed away madly again, but sprang up and placed
the bowl of steamy aromatic chowder in front of her as soon as it arrived
from the kitchen.  "Enjoy." She said.  "Give me a shout if you need
anything, this time of the year its quiet, we don't get many customers
while its still day light, it gets busier when its dark, though." She said
as she returned to her computer.

   Hillary watched as Mariska typed on her computer, the girl was blushed,
"I'm just chatting to a friend in Canada, I don't usually chat at work but
my favorite DJ is scheduled this evening, and I have a dedication I want
her to play." She said.

   Hillary was puzzled.  "There's a DJ on the internet?" She asked.

   "Oh yeah, there must be hundreds, the one I listen to is DJ dreamy, hang
on a second, I'll crank up the volume you can listen to her, she's going to
play my request." She said happily.

   Mariska fiddled with her laptop, and although the sound coming out of it
was slightly muted and `tinny', Hillary had shivers.  " This is DJ dreamy,
I have a request and dedication from angel, to her Mistress, Guitargirl;
Vampire heart by HIM and she loves you, Guitargirl." The DJ's voice was
throaty, loaded with sensuality; with a wispy quality, hinting she was just
coming down from an orgasm.  The song with its heavy metal beat rumbled,
tinkled and wailed with passion through the tiny speakers of the laptop,
Hillary was enthralled.

   The song ended, the DJ's dulcet tones brought the all but empty diner
alive, " Okay, that was Vampire Heart for Miss Guitargirl, from angel, in
`seeking subbies', coming up next is Evil ways by Santana and we'll have
Evanescence's Lithium, and oh, wait, like it wasn't going to happen!  I
have a dedication from Guitargirl to her lil subbie, angel, Sarah Mclachlan
and Angel, She loves ya babe!"

   Sarah Mclachlan's moving song filled the restaurant with its unique
sadness.  "How do I tune into that?" She asked Mariska, pointing at the
computer.

   "It's a little complicated, what media player do you use?" Mariska
asked.

   "Hell I don't know, whatever came with the computer, if I fetch it from
the car, can you set it up for me?" She asked hopefully.

   "Sure, that'll be easier and faster, do you have IRC so you can make
requests?" Mariska asked.

   "I don't think so, I don't think its got anything other than a word
processor and whatever came with it when I bought it." Hillary answered.

   Hillary left her soup and fetched her laptop from the trunk of her car,
setting it on the table, and switching it on.  Mariska stood waiting until
it had booted and came to life.  She tapped on some keys, flicked the mouse
a few times, and then said.  "No, you'll need to download IRC." She wrote
the instructions on a paper napkin.  " You can download it here." She said
handing Hillary the napkin.  I've set your Media Player to log into the
radio.  Here!  Let me set your Internet up to the motel's wifi network, you
are staying at the motel, right?  I'll download it for you, it's a quick
download."

   She tapped on keyboard, soon Hillary's laptop was on the Internet and
she watched as files began to download.  Mariska's eyes were alive as she
set up the program.  "You need a chat name." She said.  "The server is a
BDSM site, I hope that's okay?  So are you a Domme or subbie?" She asked.

   "What's the difference?" Hillary asked in ignorance.

   "Do you give or take orders?" Mariska asked.

   " I think I give orders now." She replied.

   "All right, so think of a strong name, and I'll set you up as a Domme."
She said as her laptop tuned in to the radio station and music pulsed from
its minuscule speakers.  Hillary peered at the computer screen as Mariska
went about setting the program up.  "At University I was known as Sassy, if
that helps?" She said while trying to comprehend what Mariska was doing.

   Mariska's response was slow, as she type.  "Okay, its not taken, so,
welcome to the Bondage server Mistress Sassy," She said.

   Hillary looked as words whipped across her screen, Mariska, turned and
left to go to her own computer, and started typing:

   angel{G}> "Hello Miss Sassy"

   Hillary chuckled and typed back

   "Hello Angel....

   Hillary called to Mariska.  "How do I make or type the rest of your chat
name?"

   "You can type the first few letters then hit the TAB key." She replied.

   Hillary hit the TAB

   Sassy>"Hello angel{G} appeared on the screen.

   Sassy>"Thank you for helping me."

   DJ dreamy announced some more requests over the air and seduced her
audience while Mariska grinned at her from over her open computer. 
"Dommies use capital letters when they speak about Themselves, so the me
should be, Me." She chuckled.

   angel{G}>"You are welcome Miss"

   gunfighter>"Hello Ms Sassy."

   MsMarlo>"Welcome Sassy."

   cyberslut>*kneels at MsSassy's feet.

   Sassy>"Hello all of you.  Why are you kneeling cyberslut?"

   cyberslut>"Can I PM, Ma'am?

   angel{G}> "Leave Her alone cyberslut, She's new."

   angel{G}>"Can I introduce You to my Mistress, Sassy?"

   Guitargirl> "Pleased to meet Sassy."

   Sassy>"I'm pleased to meet you too, Guitargirl."

   Mariska explained again, walking to Hillary.  "You should capitalize the
you, You used when You spoke to my Mistress.  Here let me show You." She
said.

   She took over the keyboard and flicked on a new screen.

   Sassy>"Hello Mistress."

   Guitargirl>"Hi baby"

   Sassy>"Your not mad at me are you?"

   Guitargirl>"When have I ever been mad at you?"

   Sassy>" Dunno, prolly all the time, but i know You love me."

   Guitargirl>"silly girl!"

   Guitargirl>*kisses her softly.

   Sassy>*kisses Her back

   Mariska grinned and said.  "See, like that, Dommes use and have capitals
used on them, Doms too."

   Sassy>"Thanks Mistress."

   Guitargirl>"you are welcome babe."

   She flicked back to the original chat room, and typed briefly.

   Sassy>"dreamy, can I request Natasha Beddingfield - Unwritten?

   DJ-dreamy>" Coming up next set, Sassy."

   Hillary knew she had to employ dreamy.  "I see I have a lot to learn, I
have only used MSN messenger on this computer, and logged into CNN for
news, this is a whole new world." She said out loud.

   Neither Hillary nor Mariska had noticed that the clam chowder was left
cold and uneaten on the table.  They listened to the music, and the
seductive voice of the DJ and typed away, peering at their screens,
laughing and giggling, like schoolgirls.

   New customers walked into the restaurant, hastily Hillary muted her
computer and giggled as she watched Mariska do the same.  They winked at
each other.  Mariska walked to the newcomers and began to serve and take
their orders.  It had gotten dark, Hillary had been so captivated she
hadn't noticed the time.  She pushed the cold food and glass of wine from
in front of her, gathered her computer and walked to the till.  Mariska
smiled, took her credit card and ran it through.  Hillary added a large tip
and signed the receipt.

   "I'm in room 21, thank you for showing me the Internet radio and chat
room, angel." She said.  "If you want to show me more, drop by when you
finish your shift." She invited.

   "I'll end my shift early, at 7:00, when the night staff come in." She
said looking at her watch.  " I'll see you then." Mariska said softly.

   Hillary walked to her room and flopped out on the bed, laying on her
stomach, she opened her computer and switched it on, found the media player
icon and clicked it on, after a short preamble her room was filled with
Bette Middler's `The rose'.  The DJ captivated her audience with the
occasional giggle and personal comments and her choice of music was
eclectic, ranging from The Alfa dogs to ZZ Top.

   A soft tap on her door brought her from her reverie, she rolled off the
bed and opened the door.  Mariska stood framed in the doorway, she had
removed her nametag, and put on a black leather silver spiked collar.  She
held a small bottle of white wine in her hand.

   "Come in, lets get this opened." Hillary said, pointing at the wine and
inviting Mariska in.  Mariska curtsied.  "Thank you Mistress Sassy." She
said grinning and walking in, They both giggled.  Hillary poured the wine
into the glasses she found still wrapped in the bathroom, they sat on the
bed and sipped in an awkward silence.  As the level of the wine dropped,
the stilted conversation began to flow easier.  When Mariska returned after
briefly leaving to `borrow' another half bottle of Chateau de Plonk from
her employer, the conversation grew more intimate.  They continued using
their chat names.

   "Are you gay, Sassy?" Angel asked.  "If you are not, its fine, I'm not
trying to hit on you, or anything, but you did invite me." The girl's smile
was uncertain.

   Hillary hesitated; the answer she gave was finally what the Network
Directors and Station Management had wished for months ago.  "Um, my name
is actually Hillary, I think I'm best at describing myself as, bi-curious,
to be honest, labels scare me, if you only knew how much, being labeled and
being thought of as a lesbian has cost me." She said.  "But not tonight,
tonight I am admitting that I'm hitting on you, and to hell with the
consequences."

   "There are a few lezzies in town, I can introduce you if you like.  We
kind of hang out together, well not together, together." Mariska said
lewdly holding up her hand with her fore and index fingers crossed.  She
inched closer to Hillary holding her glass for a refill.

   Hillary scooted closer as well and poured the wine into each of their
glasses, emptying the bottle.  Tentatively Mariska put her hand on
Hillary's arm, seeing no visible resistance she stroked the soft skin of
Hillary's upper arm.  Hillary moved in closer, Mariska got bolder and her
fingers trailed over the front of Hillary's blouse.

   Hillary sighed softly, as Mariska began fumbling with the buttons of her
blouse, then closed Her eyes and relaxed, Her head rolled as Mariska pulled
the blouse off, and her nimble fingers unclasped her bra.  She sat naked
from the waist up as Mariska lowered her face to Hillary's breasts and
began suckling with her soft mobile lips, her other hand caressed and
teased the other nipple, using her work roughened palm to tease the nipple.

   Hillary arched her back as Mariska's free hand slid confidently down her
side to the belt of her skirt, and with obvious practiced skill, unbuckled
the belt slid the clasp off and pulled the zipper down before expertly
tugging it down with her panties.  Cool air caressed her supersensitive
skin, she lay naked on a motel bed while a beautiful girl caressed and
sucked her boobs, she didn't care, she wanted to be held caressed and made
love to by this strange young girl, she wanted it more than anything in her
life.

   With the instinct and slow cunning of a born tease, Mariska slowly slid
her mouth wetly over Hillary's torso, down over her belly, inserting Her
wet, warm inquisitive tongue into her belly button before dragging her
tongue down lower and lower, over the soft curls of pubic hair to the hot
junction of Hillary's thighs.  Mariska began to lick, long languid strokes,
until on her own she widened her knees and her hands dug into Mariska's
tightly braided hair, almost forcing her face between her legs.  Mariska
cunningly pressed two fingers into her receptive pussy.  Her breathing was
beginning to come in gasps, her thighs were jerking with electrical tics,
it came as a rush, the tickle in her belly exploded, and she thrust upward
uncaringly against Mariska's fingers, her eyes shut closed she squealed as
the most mind-blowing orgasm rolled through her receptive body like a never
ending series of waves pounding onto the sea shore, each slightly less
intense than the last, until her mind could no longer cope.  She bucked
violently, forcing Mariska's head from between her legs.  Mariska's lower
face was coated and shiny with the juices from her pussy.  She groaned and
lay back completely spent, Her heart hammering in time with the twitches
still pulsing through her pussy.  She was speechless.  Tears rolled down
her cheeks and spilled onto the bedclothes.  Mariska sat, still fully
clothed between her widespread legs, a soft and almost angelic expression
on her face.

   Mariska's voice was soft and loving.  "I think you needed that,
Hillary." She caressed the soft skin of Hillary's inner thighs; her short
nails trailing softly and almost but not scratching the tender skin. 
Hillary lay legs wide and unashamed as Mariska caressed her intimately.

   Mariska almost whispered.  "Its okay, you sleep Hillary, I need to get
home.  Will I see you tomorrow?"

   Hillary nodded.  "Oh my god yes!" Then she pleaded.  "Please stay with
me tonight, I've never felt like this, it just feels so right, please stay
with me." She opened her arms and held onto Mariska's wrist.

   "I cant stay honey, my folks will worry if I don't come home." She said.

   "So phone them." Hillary replied, pointing to the phone, beside the bed.

   Mariska picked up the phone and dialed, and spoke softly into the
receiver, and ended with, "Ok mom I'll be home in the morning, I love you."
She blushed.

   She pulled off her blouse, and folded it neatly and stood, climbing out
of her skirt, which she also folded, and placed the garments on the unused
bed, she slipped out of her panties and bra and snuggled in beside Hillary,
belly to belly.  Mariska felt Hillary's hand tentatively caress her neck
and breasts.  She turned and lay on Her back and widened her knees
slightly, and guided Hillary's hand to her carefully trimmed, hungry pussy.
She spread her knees wide and presented her thighs as she pushed Hillary's
rigid fingers into her, filling her wet, warm waiting pussy.  The first
inept thrusts Hillary made were deep and almost brutal, Mariska whined
ecstatically, this was not going to be soft and gentle, her need for
Hillary was now was almost primal in its passion.  Her nipples ached, as
she twisted and tweaked at them unabated as Hillary pressed her torso hard
against hers, squishing their bellies, perspiration flowed and acted as
lubricant, soon combining and mixing their salty sweat, making both their
sinuous bodies slippery.  Almost as slippery as her well-filled cunt, she
felt the twitches beginning to build in strength and regularity along her
inner thighs as her lover crushed her soft skinned but hard body against
hers.  Still belly-to-belly she hooked her ankles over and inside Hillary's
calves to anchor herself.  Each thrust forced the fingers deeper and deeper
inside her as she arched her back, Hillary added a third and finally the
forth finger.  The stiff fingers traveled inside her, jerking forward
steadily only to be stopped by Hillary's thumb.  She responded, pushing
back with equal force in time with the deep satisfying thrusts.  A fast
learner, craftily, Hillary folded her thumb into the palm of her hand and
finally in time with Mariska's pelvic thrusts, her small hand slid into
Mariska, stretching her; the labia spread, exposing her clit to Hillary's
wrist almost as if nature intended it so, building up friction, stimulating
her receptive nerve endings, lubricated with her fragrant juices and
perspiration, that flowed across her belly and down from her tingling
nipples.  They were both oblivious to anything but their own needs. 
Mariska's impending orgasm and Hillary's need to give it to her.  The
stimuli reached overload.  Hillary's flexing hand buried inside her,
deliciously stretching her cunt and enhancing the twitches in her thighs
and tickle originating from her belly exploded, she whined and stiffened as
her heart pounded in her ears, finally she let out a contented gush.  The
scent and the tang of their spent arousal was far more intoxication than
the wine they'd had earlier.  They lay together, Hillary still on top,
their legs intertwined Hillary's hands wandered over Mariska's body.  Sleep
overtook them both mid-caress.

   Bright sunshine lit the room.  The women still lay entangled.  Hillary
stirred, Mariska moaned, still more than half asleep.  Hillary stared at
her watch, it was a while before it dawned on her that it was 10:30, she
had forgotten to set the alarm.  She unraveled herself and sat up, her head
pounded.  She gently shook Mariska.  "Hey, its ten thirty!"
   To be continued.................