Carly, Chapter 11

by Jackie

I don't recall dreaming about it or her or anything else for that matter, but I did wake up wondering exactly what her statement meant. My restful sleep seemed to have been an intermission.

All through breakfast I couldn't get it out of my head. Clare called just after nine and said they'd pick me up at eleven; should they come to the studio or the house. I had a ton of work to do but I decided I was too emotional to work this morning anyway. I told them to come to the house. I curled up on the couch with a second cup of coffee and dialed her number.

It rang four times and I thought I was gonna get the machine when her voice came on sounding groggy and sleep filled.

"I'm sorry did I wake you?"

"Yeah but it's OK ... I should be up now anyway."

"I can call back later if ya wanna sleep some more."

"No ... no, it's fine ... I'm fine."

There was a growl in her voice and rustling that I interpreted as her rising from between the sheets and sitting on the side of her bed. 'What's she wearing I wondered' and my pussy twitched. My mind's eye saw her as she'd been yesterday on the couch in the studio—naked except for the denim skirt bunched up around her waist. The twitch turned to that pleasant hum. 'For Christ's sake if you're gonna ask her something, ask her what she meant by 'don't worry' ... not what she's wearing!' Still the image of her sitting on the side of the bed with those spectacular tits on display in all their glory wouldn't go away.

"Sounds like you had a kinda rough night," I said trying to sound sympathetic.

"Yeah, I drank a little too much ... don't do it very often ... now I know why."

"Well I won't keep ya. Go get yourself some aspirin and coffee and you'll be fine in an hour."

"Why did you call?"

Good question! 'Why did I call?' When faced with an embarrassing question honesty was always the best policy.

"I can't get you off my mind ... I just needed to hear your voice." I said.

I don't think she heard my voice crack.

"Aww ... that's nice," she responded in her more usual sparkly voice; the dulcet tone that had been missing for so long until yesterday.

It lifted my spirits immensely.

"Can we get together ... uh, tonight ... this evening?"

My voice was surprisingly even, but my heart was pounding like a teenager asking for a first date.

"Uh ... sure ... what time about?"

I heard more rustling and a funny strained quality to her voice. I pictured her standing beside the bed stretching. The image nearly made me gasp.

"What if I pick you up around seven? We'll have dinner somewhere quiet ... bring Caitie if you want."

"Sorry ... but Caitlin is already spoken for" she giggled. "She's goin' over to the Holiday Inn to play some video game with Stevie."

"Really!" If I hadn't been sitting down already I would have collapsed from pure joy.

"Yeah they were on the phone last night for hours. They seem to really hit it off." 'Nothing like a good sixty-nine session for peer bonding I always say.' "I'm so glad!" I said sincerely.

"Me too ... she really needs a friend more her own age. She's spending too much time with grown ups ... loosing her adolescence."

I couldn't help but think of Amy and me—the ages were almost the same.

"OK ... I'll see you around seven ... I love you."

"Love you too."

She hung up. I sat there looking at the telephone receiver for several seconds. 'Did we just finish that conversation with—' I shook my head and headed for the shower.

---

Bra, panties, white shorts and a blue boat necked top—I wasn't trying to impress anybody. I looked at the wig assortment and passed. Subtle eye shadow and lip blush were all the make-up that I needed. I was back in the kitchen wiping the counter when I heard the horn honk.

Amy was at the wheel with Clare riding shotgun; I slipped in the back of the Navigator with Stephanie.

"Sara, the real estate lady, offered to pick us up but I said no. We'd have to listen to her yammering all the way out there and all the way back." Amy's mom said between the seats as we backed out of the drive. "Tell the truth I had as much of that as I could handle yesterday." 'Same old 'get to the point or get the hell out' Clare', I thought.

The house—mansion really—was even more impressive in real life than it had been on the Nikon's screen. Sara, poor thing, was trying to do a sales pitch and Clarisse interrupted her constantly, as if she wasn't there. We walked around the house and property; Clare talking to Amy, Sara tagging along behind like a playful puppy. Stevie and I hung well back enjoying our own little tour.

Back in the kitchen Amy turned to Sara and with a look that could have penetrated concrete spoke, for what I thought was the first time since we'd arrived.

"What'll they take?"

If the real estate agent had any inclination to play games, that look shocked it out of her.

"Uh ... uh, a million-five," the agent stammered looking like she had a gun pointed at her head.

Amy's eyes narrowed but she didn't say anything.

"May ... maybe four-fifty," Sara corrected. 'God she's good!' I lauded Amy's bargaining skills.

"Write up a final offer for one point four and we'll sign it" she said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she turned and crouched enough to be eye to eye with her daughter, effectively dismissing the sales lady.

"Do you like it honey?"

Stephanie answered by wrapping her arms around her mother's neck and kissing her full on the lips. Sara missed that part because she was busy tucking her tail between her legs and getting the necessary forms out of her brief case.

---

I had them drop me home, declining their invitation to a reunion-celebration dinner we'd missed the night before.

"We'll call you when we get word," Clare assured me out the open window of the SUV as they pulled away.

I went inside feeling tired but somewhat optimistic. I stripped naked and lay on my bed with a sheet over me. Visions of the bitchin' studio we were going to build in the semi finished basement area filled my head until sleep overtook me.

When I got up I had a quick bird bath before donning my white satin and lace bra and panty set. In a way they seemed out of place under the designer jeans and peasant blouse but I like the way they feel and the way they make me feel. I put on the short Halle Berry style wig. It had a little more highlight and contrast than Heather's hair, but otherwise it was quite similar.

I arrived at Heather's aunt's place respectably ten minutes late. As always she was waiting and watching. In all the times I'd picked her up I'd never actually gone to the door. My lover climbed into the Caddy and we kissed each other on the cheek simultaneously —like sisters. She was dressed in jeans and a sort of western style blouse, the kind you might see on stage at The Grand Ole Opry. It was the perfect attire for the little Roadhouse restaurant that I had in mind.

As soon as we were out of the driveway the stunning redhead said, "The Mitchells ... I think it was just Amy and Stevie ... picked up Caitie at six. I told them that I'd come get her by ten." She paused looking out the windshield and in a tiny voice added, "Would it be OK if we went by there after dinner ... I mean if not you could just drop me back here and I'll go myself."

I assured her that it wasn't a problem swinging by the Holiday Inn after dinner. Having the Mitchells and the Logans in my mind at the same time still made me sort of queasy, but I thought that it was getting better.

It was a chicken wings and beer kind of place, but I always liked their hoagies, and Heather was fond of the Jambalaya. We took the booth right at the back, as we usually did when it was available. The waiter, I think his name is Luke, brought a pitcher of beer without asking.

Luke unloaded his tray and said, "'Evening ladies ... the usual?"

"Uh-huh ... for me," I agreed, "steak and peppers." He turned towards Heather; I was always fascinated to watch them struggle to keep their eyes off her chest. She agreed to the Creole stew. I don't think she even noticed anymore that men never looked at her face for more than a second at a time. It was different with women, but that's a whole other story.

I poured us each a glass and asked, "So what's next?" before taking a sip.

"Well, now that the custody thing is resolved I'm gonna start looking for a place to live," she replied followed by a sip of her own.

It wasn't as if we'd never had this conversation before; but it was always speculative, out in the future.

"When are ya gonna start looking?" I enquired as several possibilities swirled in my head.

"Early next week ... I've burdened my aunt long enough." She paused for another drink. "Don't get me wrong, she's not complaining or anything. It's just that it feels so temporary, which I guess it should be. Caitie and I need to get on with our lives. Plus, I haven't been the easiest person to live with these past few weeks ... In case you hadn't noticed."

A wry smile crossed her face and our food arrived (did I mention they were fast?)

We ate in silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts. The Mitchell's offer to board with them opened the possibility of letting my lover and her daughter stay at the Maple Avenue house. I knew she couldn't afford to pay the fair-market rent for the place; but who cares. It would help her out and would not require any commitment (Which she'd made clear that she wasn't currently prepared to make). I'd charge her something so she wouldn't feel like she was free loading; then put the proceeds into Caitie's college fund.

"That ... that thing with Daryl ... or Derek—"

"Darin," I corrected.

"That was just mean and nasty!"

She looked truly remorseful. The statement coming after such a long pause told me where her thoughts had been. I was encouraged, thrilled actually, that she recognized that she'd been out of line that day.

"So you don't hate all men after all?" I extrapolated.

She didn't respond right away. It pleased me that she took the question seriously enough to give it some thought.

"No ... uh, I don't think I do." She finished her glass of beer and I refilled it. "But I don't want to be around them ... not right now," she said before taking a sip from the refreshed glass. "It's not just Hank. It's his prick lawyer, my prick lawyer, I wanted a woman but that asshole was all I could afford, and then there's all the other pricks in the legal system; all men!"

She gave a frustrated grunt and took a huge swallow from her glass. In spite of the fact that she was clearly getting angry I thought she looked cute. I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"It's OK honey we'll get through this ... you'll see."

She tried to smile but I could see that her eyes were rapidly filling up. With my free hand I fished a tissue out of my purse and handed it to her.

"If it hadn't been for Brenda Carlyle and ... and Susan ... ugh ... Susan" sob "Connelly, I might have lost Caaaiiittie..."

Her daughter's name came out in such a pitiful wail that my aching overstressed heart broke. Now we were both crying. 'Great Carly ... this is really fuckin' helpful!' I wanted nothing more than to hold her and comfort her at that moment—but who was going to comfort me? We needed to get out of there. I left a fifty and half a pitcher of beer on the table and guided my lover toward the door.

I guess we did a passable job of hiding our tears exiting because Luke called after us, "Thanks ladies ... come again!" in a very jovial tone.

As soon as we were outside we fell into each other's arms and the flood gates really opened. With more acumen than I thought I had at that moment I managed to get us out of the entry way—out from under the bright lights and into the shadows.

I don't know how long we stood like that—hugging and crying on each other's shoulder; all I know is that by the time we began to regain some composure we were a mess. We separated and each pulled copious amounts of tissue out of our purses. I'm sure the honking noses would have been considered very attractive if there'd been anyone around to hear.

"We can't go to the hotel looking like this," I observed guiding my weepy companion toward the SUV.

We drove right by the Inn on the way back to my place. She took the main bathroom and I used the one off the master bedroom. We reconnected twenty minutes later in the living room. The washed faces and refreshed make-up couldn't help the red-rimmed swollen eyes.

I was out first and poured us both two fingers of Jack. We sat on the couch silently sipping the calming liquor, each lost in our own thoughts again. I only took one long pull on the amber relaxant to steady my nerves, and then put it aside. 'You've still got to drive Carly!' Heather had no problem drowning her sorrows.

"Where do you think you're going to start looking for a place?" I reopened what I hoped wasn't an emotionally charged discussion.

"I dunno," she replied. "I guess I should really be looking for a job first ... and then ... you know, find a place that's not too far."

She'd polished off the whiskey so I handed her mine in its place. She was obviously beginning to relax. I knew that I was beginning to wind down as well when I noticed that she'd left two extra mother of pearl buttons unfastened at the top of her cowgirl shirt. As usual her supportive bra presented the inner slopes of her hooters to perfection. I felt the stirring.

"What kind of work are you looking for?"

I don't have a lot of business contacts outside my mainly illegal trade, but I'd been in the area forever, so I knew a lot of people.

"Well that's just the problem," she said sort of nonchalantly. "I got married very young. Hank always made a good wage so I never really had to ... you know, earn a living."

Her head was resting on the top of the sofa backrest and she turned her beautiful face toward me.

"About the only thing I've done is keep house. I suppose I could look for a maid's job, or housekeeping at a hotel."

She drained the second glass of Jack and I took the empty glass from her. 'About four ounces of Tennessee Sour-mash on top of the beer ... she's gonna regret this tomorrow'.

"Yeah but you're smart," I complimented, stroking her soft red hair and looking down her top. "You'd pick things up quickly."

"I suppose," she said pensively, and then she giggled. "I sure did in Oyster Gulch!"

There was the reference to their, her and Caitlin's, adventure in the desert again. 'Some day I must get that whole story' I mused. Then I kissed her.

With her head back on the backrest of the couch looking up at me with that tipsy grin I just couldn't resist. Our lips touched so tenderly hers were so warm, so soft—I started to tingle all over. In an uncharacteristic display of self control I pulled away a little. Her eyes were still closed and full her lips pursed; the tingle intensified. In part, the warm feeling was recognizable, familiar even, but another part wasn't. The warmth that seemed to rise from between my legs was lust; unvarnished, indiscriminant sexual desire. The other part, the one I'd only felt up until very recently with Clare and Amy, that was a sensation of the heart. The predator in me wanted to squash it, to kill it, just like it had done when that feeling arose with Tracy. But the love was gaining strength. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of my mind a battle was being fought.

Heather's eyes opened. In this light they looked emerald green. The kiss and the look stirred the memory of our parting yesterday at the studio. I felt that tension like a tightly wound ball of emotion rising from around my diaphragm. It was the one that eventually lodged in my throat and turned me into a sobbing mess, just like I'd been on the studio couch. Stroking her hair again I was trying to hold it down.

"Yesterday ... when you left the studio, you said 'Don't worry' what did you mean?" asking the question seemed to inhibit the rise of the ball.

It was as if the answer determined whether it should continue up or sink back down and unravel. The thing was, I didn't know what answer I wanted, but I had the feeling that the wrong one would leave me crying like a baby.

"I meant I understand," she said looking very serious.

It occurred to me that she wasn't as tipsy as I'd thought.

"You love Clarisse and her daughter in a way that I'll never be able to compete with ... and I'm OK with that."

The sob was so profound that I could scarcely believe that it came from me. She pulled my head down onto her shoulder, and I realized that I'd been completely wrong. It wasn't the wrong answer that would demolish me, it was the right one. It was a good thing that her lips were right against my ear, because otherwise I don't think I'd have been able to hear her over the racket I was making. It surprised me that I had any tears left; it turned out I had a huge reserve, one that it had taken years to amass. Twenty-five years of tears can fill an ocean.

"You can love more than one person at a time ... love is endless—inexhaustible."

The tightly wound ball in my throat loosened just a little. The warmth in my heart increase until it was nearly a burn. I realized that she was right.

"I don't want to compete with the Mitchells ... I can't ... but the love we have ... what we've shared is special too. It doesn't have to be one or the other."

The ball didn't unravel it exploded, evaporated, dematerialized. The constriction in my throat was gone and it was replaced by a feeling I can only describe as euphoria. The sobbing stopped and I raised my head to look into her eyes once again. I saw that tears were trickling down her cheeks too, but she was smiling.

The world was spinning. I don't know how but we were locked in the tightest hug I'd felt since... Oh God ... it was only yesterday ... Amy ... and ... and a couple of days before with ... ohhh, with Clare... We rolled off the couch and made a miraculously soft landing on the floor; laughing and crying and loving with a depth I'd never dreamed of.

Fifteen minutes ago, thoughts of the Mitchells while I was with Heather would have made me uncomfortable; nervous and upset. I never knew why until she explained it to me. Now it was all so clear, so simple. It was like when you've been working on a jig-saw or a crossword puzzle and that one piece, that one word, that one letter drops into place. I literally felt the wall I'd spent twenty years or more building around my heart, the one that had been cracking and leaking over the past couple of weeks, crumble to dust.

The laughing and crying dissolved to kissing and licking; I was on top then she was on top, we rolled around like a couple of teenagers. As a matter of fact that's exactly the thought that came into my head, teenagers, and the face that defined the genre: Caitie's.

"Oh my God ... Caitie!" I said breathlessly as I pulled away.

Neither of us was wearing a watch and there was no clock in sight. I popped up and checked the one on the end table. My redheaded lover was lying there looking pretty disheveled but smiling blissfully.

"Ten, you said."

"Huh?" the adorable and seemingly quite disoriented mother responded.

"To pick up Caitie ... didn't you say by ten?"

"Yeah," she said but it was dreamy, as if the alcohol had finally kicked in.

"Well it's almost ten now!"

This might have been OK, because it wasn't far, but neither of us was ready to go out the door. The repairs we had done after returning from the restaurant had been more than undone.

"Come on, Sweetie ... we gotta go," I ordered, hauling her to her feet.

I suppose I could have gone by myself; or I could even have called Clare and told her that something had come up, that we'd be late. Hell, I could probably have told her we weren't coming at all, and it would have been OK. So it was just my personality that made the situation urgent. A commitment had been made and it needed to be honored.

Heather did a remarkable impression of a sober person up to a point. We got ourselves as fixed up as it was reasonable to do quickly and headed for the hotel.

I felt pretty confident that I could pass a 'breathalyzer' but I concentrated on my driving carefully because I didn't want to have to prove it. I turned off the SUV in the Holiday Inn parking lot and looked at my passenger. Again I was surprised and pleased that she looked under control. The pupils were dilated and she was definitely impaired but not drunk.

She needed a little support, more like guidance, to make it to suite two-ten. That's why I had my arm around her when Amy opened the door wearing a sky blue fleece suit or maybe it was a pajama.

"Hello young lovers," she said, stepping aside to make way.

Her greeting echoed in my ears. Young? but it was true we were both younger than her (although you'd never know it to look), and Lovers? When and how had she come to that conclusion? For just a second as we crossed the threshold I recalled how I'd looked up to her, idolized her, back in the day. Maybe I still did?

Clare was on the couch, frozen vodka in hand as we entered.

"Have a nice date?" she asked.

There it was again, the presumption that we, that Heather and I, were a couple. 'How did she come to that conclusion... ?' Never mind that she was right.

Amy had closed the door and gone to the bedroom; I presumed where the girls were.

Her mother raised her glass and said,"Drink?" 'Not if I wanted to drive' I thought, but yes I did want a drink. 'There's always cabs' I reasoned.

"Yeah ... great," I replied.

Clare was wearing a purple velour lounging suit. She got up from the couch and called back over her shoulder, "How about you Heather, what are you drinking?"

The redhead hesitated for a fraction before responding, "I'll just have some water ... I think I've had my fill for tonight."

"Come on in ... sit down," the older woman encouraged as she played bartender in the little kitchenette.

We were side by side on the couch when she presented Heather with a sweaty tumbler of ice cold water, and me with a tinkling rocks glass of Whiskey No. 7.

"Wow ... It's exciting in there!"

Amy said as she returned to the living room. My filthy mind envisioned what Caitie and Stevie might be doing, and my pussy gave a sharp stab.

"They're all tied after four games and they're pleading for time to play a rubber match ... is that OK?"

She was looking at Heather. That description didn't sound like any sexual hanky-panky I could imagine so I gave myself a mental slap for being such a pervert. 'Never mind ... a little more Captain Jack ... and you'll be smiling' the lyric tumbled through my head. 'Captain Jack will get ya by tonight and take ya to your special island... ' I realized I didn't need it; I was already high —on love. I set the sour mash on the end table untouched.

Amy came and sat on the arm of the couch; she was between me and the whiskey, and that was OK. I looked up at her and noticed how her pajama top gaped just a little, you know between the buttons. I caught sight of the inner slope of her breast; that's all I could really see but my mind filled in the rest from its ancient archive. Even from here I could tell they weren't as perky as when she'd been sixteen that day in the pool, not to mention that they were a cup size bigger; hangover from breast feeding Stephanie no doubt. But that day at the pool when we'd swum naked and I'd kissed my first pussy —her pussy— that's the image of her breasts that my mind conjured.

I knew that Heather and Clare were having a conversation but I wasn't listening at all. I was just looking up to Amy as I always had. Things were beginning to stir. Things that had started on my living room floor an hour ago, and I squirmed in my seat.

"What do you think, Carly?"

The mention of my name hauled me back to the Holiday Inn. I looked over at Clare and I guess my look of total bewilderment said it all.

"We were talking about the fact that Heather needs a job ... and she needs a place to live." Amy's mother recapped the conversation that I'd missed. "She said she'd be interested in something like a domestic ... so I thought since were gonna have that huge house, maybe we could solve both her problems," she finished and then took a pull on her vodka.

I couldn't quite grasp the idea. It was simple enough, but the concept of living under the same roof with all three of them, five actually when you counted the girls, was more than my brain could deal with. I just sat there looking stunned.

"So what do you think?" she repeated the question.

"I ... I guess that's up to Heather," I finally replied and looked at the stunning redhead sitting next to me.

She looked back at me through bleary eyes that seemed to be echoing Clare's question. My lover and I stared into each other's eyes, into each other's souls. I wondered if she was sober enough to appreciate the magnitude of what we were talking about. She was with it enough to realize that the ball was in her court.

"I just said that I didn't think that there'd be enough for me to do," she repeated her part of the previous conversation without taking her eyes off mine.

"I disagree," Clare rejoined. "I don't think she's taking into account what slobs we all are!"

We all started laughing. The sound made me high; my friends, my lovers, my family sharing a moment of pure mirth. When the laughter finally died down Clare added, "Anyway I'm sure we can find enough to keep you busy and—"

"Have you ever done any modeling?" Amy interjected.

It was Heather's turn to look stunned.

"No ... no I haven't" she responded.

I was thinking about that Saturday afternoon in my studio when I had photographed her and Caitie at the teenager's insistence. I don't think she'd forgotten I was guessing that she just thought that it didn't count.

"Would you like to ... are you interested at all?" the blonde in the sky blue pajama's pressed.

Heather took a big gulp of her water and I figured, at that moment, she wished that it was something stronger.

"Well ... I, uh ... never really thought about it."

"You've certainly got the body for it ... from what I can see," Amy complimented.

The nervous uncomfortable look on my lover's face became a blush; with her fair skin when she blushed, she really blushed. There was a pregnant pause.

"Could we see more of it?" my old classmate asked.

I sucked in my breath and a jolt hit my pussy. Heather gasped as well and I suspect that her erogenous zones were also active.

"I ... I thought you only did girls ... much younger—" "Oh we're very diversified," Clare corrected chuckling.

"Come on," Amy entreated slipping off the arm of the sofa and taking up a kneeling position in front of the quivering redhead. "I bet you're absolutely spectacular!"

The heat was building up between my legs and my nipples had begun to tingle. In spite of the number of times I'd seen her naked there was something very erotic about the way this was going. Maybe it was my lover's frightened bashful reaction; maybe it was Amy's aggressive, predatory, approach, most likely a combination of the two.

I took her water glass from her before she could spill it in her lap. The kneeling blonde put her hands on Heather's shoulders and stroked her upper arms though the western style shirt.

"Can I take a look ... would that be alright?"

I could feel her shivering intensify through the couch. Amy's fingers were on the first closed mother-of-pearl button which resided directly between her prominent hooters. I felt the tension and it spurred my arousal.

They actually weren't buttons, they were snaps. The first one parted with a surprisingly loud click. I looked from Heather to Amy and back. My former classmate and erstwhile lover studied my new lover's face for a reaction. Heather was looking down at the fingers on the snaps of her shirt as though she didn't know what they were doing. The kneeling woman paused to see if there'd be a protest. When none was forthcoming she quickly proceeded to unsnap the rest of the shirt.

After she'd tugged it out of the waistband of the jeans there were two more pearl covered snaps to part before she could lay the sides of the cowgirl shirt fully open. We were all looking at the abundant flesh cradled in the white satin and lace bra—including Heather.

"Oh my God ... they are magnificent," Amy groaned and paused only for a moment before flexing the fastener between the cups, releasing them.

The cups separated an inch or so but her tits stayed in their holder. The blonde at her feet leaned back a little as if to get a better prospective on her work. At that point her hands went up to the front of her flannel pajama top and began to squeeze and knead her own breasts. I knew exactly what she was going through. My nipples were tingling and itching too, so I followed suit.

Amy's fingers had begun to work on the buttons securing her pajama top when she said, "Show me ... show me those beautiful titties."

The moment of hesitation on the part of my lover gave the blonde time to complete her task. She parted the front of her PJ and lifted her breasts stroking her semi-hard red nubs until they reached full erection.

The sound Heather made could have been a sigh or it could have been a groan. In either case she gripped the lacy upper margin of the cups and peeled them off her stunning tits. Despite the number of times I'd seen them they still sent a jolt directly to my clit. I think the first viewing is always more powerful, and Amy sort of confirmed my suspicion by squealing and squeezing her now turgid pegs. Heather was looking down at her own chest as if she was seeing it for the first time.

"Touch them honey ... play with them ... play with your beautiful boobies," the kneeling woman encouraged.

My lover's hands came up from her lap and cupped her full orbs. It was hard to say if her large breasts made her hands look small or vice versa.

I couldn't stand it anymore! In a decisive move I stripped the peasant top over my head. I was deciding where to discard it when I noticed Clare holding the Nikon in front of her apparently framing the scene using the display. The camera was completely silent but I could see her finger repeatedly firing the shutter.

My bra was remarkably similar to Heather's except it fastened in the back, not to mention that it was a cup size smaller. I peeled the shoulder straps off and pull the cups down exposing my demanding boobs. Squeezing my tits and looking at Amy who by this time had latched on to one of the redhead's fluorescent pink nipples and was sucking like a 'Hoover'. My hands generated those wonderful waves of pleasure that had my clit throbbing in no time. The woman on the couch beside me had leaned forward. I wasn't sure if it was to provide better access to the mouth that was stimulating her or if it was so she could reach down and toy with the kneeling woman's boobs.

My hands left my breasts long enough to spin the satin and lace bra around my midriff so I could get at the hooks. With the back strap unfastened the cups fell behind me on the sofa.

During their mutual tittie play, both Amy and Heather had shrugged off their tops. I glanced at Clare once more as she circled the three topless women on the hotel couch; the D3 recording every suck, lick, squeeze and stroke.

Playing with my own breasts while watching my old lover and my new one exchange caresses a line from the song ran through my head ' ... she's on a date ... and you just sit at home and masturbate.' I thought I should be jealous—but of what? Amy touching Heather, Heather touching Amy, or of them both touching each other? I wasn't jealous; I just wanted to be part of the action. The kneeling woman was sucking and tonguing the seated woman's right melon. I removed her stroking hand from the left one and applied my mouth to it. Heather squealed and then groaned as the stimulation was multiplied.

Seemingly relieved of her duty Amy pulled back a little. It wasn't that much but it was enough to deprive the redhead of her playthings. It was somewhat awkward but she managed to twist her arm around and grab my boob. Her little hand pulled and twisted the sensitive peg and a bolt of pleasure had me humming loudly against her boob. Amy was working on her belt. Out of the corner of my eye I marveled at the dexterity as she unfastened, unbuttoned and unzipped the redhead's jeans. 'Practice' I thought as she had them free and was pulling the denim over the seated woman's hips in seconds.

I felt my lover flexing to lift her hips. The kneeling blonde wasted no time in getting rid of the jeans and returning for the white lace bikini panties. I switched breasts as my lover once again shifted her hips to facilitate the removal. Amy aggressively, forcefully, yanked naked Heather's hips forward and pounced like a lioness on to the steamy vulva she'd uncovered. 'That's where Stevie learned that technique' I thought. The redhead wailed loudly as the kneeling blonde woman, my former classmate, applied her very advanced cunniligus skills.

When her hips had been pulled forward, my lover slid down on the couch and I lost contact with her breasts. She was now lying with the back on the seat; her head was against the backrest at an uncomfortable looking angle but she didn't seem to notice. She grunted and groaned her appreciation of my ex-classmate's efforts.

Without thinking I straddled her. She looked up at me with those incredible green eyes and smiled. She extended her tongue and wiggled it. I took that for permission and lowered my hips; her tongue went to work instantly. For better or worse Heather had very little mobility. I held myself open and moved my pussy for her at my whim. She licked whatever part I presented and when I scrunched down she sucked if I was close enough. I felt her gasping and moaning against my sensitive folds in response to Amy's oral tribute.

When I felt her bucking and heaving underneath me I knew she was in the throes of orgasm. I dismounted to give her more access to desperately needed air. Clare was still clicking away; still circling like a stalking tiger. Briefly I replaced the redhead's tongue with my own fingers bumping over my swollen clit and watching Amy put the finishing touches on my lover's climax.

When the kneeling blonde with the pussy juice smeared face looked up at me I was suddenly overcome. I swooped like a diving eagle knocking her to the floor and attached my lips to her delicious face. Breathlessly we were sucking and licking each other. I struggled to get my breathing under control as I kissed my way down her body.

When I arrived at the juncture of her thighs, I lifted her legs onto my shoulders and applied my mouth to her neglected womanhood. I tasted the fabulous fruit of her pussy for the first time in many years and went completely nuts. It was my version of the Amy and Stevie full-on assault.

In spite of my overwrought state I noticed Heather slither off the couch like a cobra. I lost track of her until she emerged between my legs. Pulling my knees out from under me she lowered my sex onto her waiting mouth. I think I screamed into Amy's vagina but the sound was deadened by her thighs clamped on the sides of my head anyway. Her hips were heaving, my hips were heaving and all three of us were trying to scream. The only voice that could be heard was Amy's, and even she stuffed her arm in her mouth in an effort to stifle it.

When the incredible head spinning began to slow down, the first thing I noticed was the overpowering scent of arousal.

"Very nice ladies," Clare congratulated as she continued to circle and digitally capture the aftermath.

We lay there like that, in the chain, on the floor, each of panting and soaking in our own post orgasmic bliss. 'That was Heather's modeling debut' I surmised. As my head cleared the reality of the deal we'd struck to all move-in together hit home and I was dizzy all over again.

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Epilogue

I am in my studio for the last time waiting for the movers. The cameras and computer are all safely stowed in the Escalade already. There's not much in the desk which only has two drawers. Pens, pencils, a ruler, a couple of note pads; I toss them into the banker's box. The lower drawer has one hanging file where I keep receipts. I pick up the square bottle with the antique looking white on black label. It's about half full of the amber emotional anesthetic. I toss it into the waste basket, a bonus for the movers, and head downstairs with my box.

On the way to the mansion I think: 'I'm gonna need a new song.'