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Chapter 2: A Morning Story

We cuddled in a happy knot, dozing warmly together, until the sky started to lighten outside. Micca – she hates ‘Michaela’ – leaned up on one elbow, looking down at me, and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. She took my hand from between her legs and pressed it to her lips, then to mine. The salty sweetness on my fingers and the scent of sex started turning me on all over again. I reached up and pulled her head down to mine, for a long soft kiss.

“Lin, if we don’t get going now, I might never let go,” Micca said.

“And the problem would be …?”

“Coffee.”

“Of course. I’ll get it going.”

I pulled that oversized T-shirt on, rounded up all the stray underwear, and threw it in the laundry basket. (This studio apartment doesn’t let me make two messes at a time.) The kitchenette was only a few steps more, and I had the water heating in a moment. I found watermelon in the fridge, that would do for now. The microwaved dinged while I was cutting the melon, so I poured hot water into the French press, drowning a thick layer of ground coffee. I pressed the plunger half way down, then back up again to get the air out of the grounds, and went back to cutting melon. By the time I had finished with the melon and gotten the tray set up for eating, the coffee was about done. I pressed the plunger home and poured two big mugs – we both like it back. This was our breakfast in bed.

Micca was looking at me as I brought the tray over. In fact, she had been sort of staring at me the whole time I was putting the food together. Lying on her side, head propped up on one hand, her tapered waist and round hip showed their curves beautifully. I set the tray on the bed, then sat cross-legged beside her. She sat up, adjusted a pillow as backrest, and leaned against the wall. I passed her a mug. Then, instead of giving her a bowl, I speared a pink chunk and offered it to her. She leaned forward and ate it from the fork, with that cute, shy smile.

After that, I set the fork aside. I popped a piece into my own mouth, then picked one up and offered it to her. She took it again, along with the tips of my finger and thumb. When I drew them away, she followed, and licked a drop of juice from each.

We both felt the glow from making love earlier, and enjoyed a happy moment without words. She held her mug in both hands, and I fed us both chunks of sweet melon. Sometimes, I would stroke her cheek or forehead before pulling my hand away. Then I teased a little, making her lean forward to get the next piece. When she leaned forward enough, her soft, heavy breasts swung away from her body.

Next time, I picked the biggest piece of melon, too much for one mouthful. When she leaned forward to bite into it, my other hand rose up under swaying breast and held. She looked up at me, smiled, and closed her eyes – but didn’t lean back. Instead, she munched quietly, then opened her mouth for another bite. That baby-bird trust and vulnerability melted me. My hand cupped the pendant breast as I fed her, and my thumb stroked the side of it. The next bite of melon was last, so I popped it into her mouth, then let my fingertip linger so her lips closed around it.

She opened her eyes with a liquid, happy look on her face, and nibbled her lower lip. Then she held her own hand against the one I had under her breast. She closed her eyes again, leaned up toward me, and parted her lips – the “kiss me” pose that no one can resist. I accepted, still holding her, just the tips of lips at first. I touched all around her mouth with mine, then pulled her lip between mine. Her pink tongue slid out and moistened my my mouth, then we touched in slippery warmth.

This slow, gentle exploration was nothing like tongue-wrestling with a boy, so we let it go on. Micca’s eyes opened then, and she leaned back with a smile. Her breast slid out of my hand as she did. She crossed her arms under those soft swells, lifting them, and asked, “Well, are we going running or not?”

“Let’s go.” I picked up the tray, and we both headed toward the kitchenette. The bathroom was right next to it, and that’s where she was going. Her T-shirt didn’t cover her bottom, it just bunched at the waist. The view from behind made me want to grab her again. Instead, I put the dishes in the sink, put the tray away, and started to change.

I heard the toilet flush and the sink run for a moment, then Micca came out. The T-shirt covered her this time, just barely, and she leaned over her clothes bag. The shirt rode up to show her bottom again, and I marveled at the grace and strength of that round curve. I also marveled at that dark place, just a bit wider than the rest of the crevice, at the top of her thighs. Facing away from me, she pulled on panties and shorts, then her new sport bra.

That step is no big deal for me – mine is not much more than a snug tube top with shoulder straps. She had to put hers on over her shoulders, lean down to enclose each heavy breast just so, do up way too many eyelets on the front closure, bursa sınırsız escort and adjust everything again. Socks and running shoes, then we were off.

The sun was well up, but the air still cool. That made running comfortable, but every guy we passed stared at our chests. (Well, hers mostly, but the slight chill meant I had a little something for the oglers, too.) This new bra really worked for her. Once it was on, she didn’t have to tug at it like she did with the other ones, or keep her arms crossed in front. It really held her bust to a gentle bounce. She told me where she got it and what it cost. My bras are little stringy things, when I bother, and I never paid even a third of that for one. (Well, I paid it once for a bra that promised even I would have cleavage. It lied. Only Photoshop could do that for me.) I knew how uncomfortable running could be for her, though, so I figured the price was worth it.

After about forty minutes, we slowed our pace to cool down. We both felt happily stretched and relaxed by the time we got home. When we got in, Micca asked, “Do you want first shower.”

“Yes,” I answered. “Soap my back?”

She looked blank for a moment, then realized what I was asking. “Of course!”

We almost raced undressing. I made it into the bathroom first, but stopped to collect towels and washcloths. She stepped into the bathtub and started the water. I pulled the curtain when I got in, and felt warm water around my feet. She switched the faucet to shower, and the warm water streamed over us.

“Let wash your hair,” I asked. She stood under the water to wet her hair while I poured a little shampoo into my hands. The she slid by me, away from the shower head, and stood with her back to me. I started massaging her scalp.

It was really just an excuse for touch. I had been getting mixed messages from her body language, despite our intimacy last night: shy/bold, eager/nervous, fascinated/scared. Micca had been a friend for so long that I didn’t this new experience to cause problems — I wanted her completely happy with this new part of our friendship. Her head seemed like a safe place to start. It didn’t take long to lather her short hair, but I drew it out for fun. Then I let go of her for a moment, soaped my hands and started on her shoulders.

Micca relaxed into it, leaning against the tiled wall. I worked her shoulders and back, then continued down. She tensed for a moment when I got to the wide muscle at the back of her hip, then relaxed again. I moved on quickly and down her leg. Her thighs normally touch each other, but she stood wide so I could soap in between, and worked down to her feet. Then I switched to the other leg, and lathered my way back up. I spent extra time on the thigh, especially the inside. When I got to the top inside, I barely touched her furry softness with my thumb. She shivered when I did, but flexed her legs wider. I moved up her bottom, and touched that sensitive spot deep between her cheeks. She clenched for a moment, but my slick hands continued up her back.

I stood up when I got toward her waist, and my hands started around to her front. Up, under her arms, I felt the swell of her breast, starting much farther back than I expected. She still leaned forward, onto the tile wall, and gave quiet “mmm” sounds. My hands worked forward, one under each breast, and I cupped them.

Their heaviness surprised me. I had felt their softness last night, but didn’t realize how much substance lay behind that rose-petal delicacy. I shifted my hands so my thumbs stroked the areolas, and leaned close against her from behind. She gave a dreamy sound and tilted her bottom against my lap. I held her close for a moment, then reached for the shower sprayer. I rinsed her hair, then took a lot more time than I needed to in wiping the soap from her back. I finished by turning the warm spray upward, behind and between her legs, cleaning her like a baby.

“Could you turn around?” She stood and turned toward me, arms a little out from her side, legs apart. ‘Here I am,’ her body seemed to say, ‘for whatever you want.’ I started safely again, washing one arm from hand to shoulder, watching out for the armpit tickle spot, then doing the other arm. Then I knelt to wash her feet, and worked my way up the front of each leg in turn. I stood then, and looked into her eyes. She gazed back steadily, with an easy smile. I skipped her lower body, and lifted one of her breasts in both my hands.

I savored that lovely weight, feeling somehow responsible for it while it was in my care, and examined it as I had never had a chance to before. I was amazed. I had never noticed that delicate tracery of blue veins under her milky, pale skin. I envied the fragile beauty of that blue lacework – it doesn’t show through my skin tone. I lifted the breast she had entrusted to me, and massaged soap all over the top and bottom, then did the other. I used the sprayer to rinse each one, and lifted them to rinse under.

Then I lifted one breast again, cradled it bursa üniversiteli escort in both hands, and leaned down to kiss it. I worked all across its upper side, feeling its gentle resilience against my face. I looked up to her smile again, set it gently down, and lifted the other. I kissed that too, down to a wide wet kiss across her smooth areola. Warmth had smoothed the nipple, but my lips teased it back up. When I had kissed it all, I set that one down, too.

I soaped my hands again, then started on her pubic hair. One hand held her bottom, pulling her close to me. I worked the soap all over, as I had done on her head, pressing in circles with my fingertips. She shifted one foot, then the other, to open the way down and between her legs, and I massaged lower.

Micca kept her open stance and steady contact with my eyes, but her eyes started to flutter. I found the split between her labia, and ran my finger along it – not in, but the whole length of it. She bit her lower lip, but kept her open, trusting gaze. I reached low then up, with just one finger. It slid easily between her labia, because of the soap.

“You said this is mine, didn’t you?”

She gazed at me levelly. The smile stayed, but changed from a distant dream to something much more alert and immediate.

“Yes, Lin, it’s yours.” Her arms still stood away from her sides. I saw a little tremor in them as my fingertip worked deeper between her labia. I found that tight muscle at her body’s entrance, and pressed against it. I circled the soft depth, pressing against its guardian gate of muscle, working slowly inward. After a few minutes of slow approach, the whole first segment of my finger felt the grasp of that outer ring.

“Micca, I want to feel you come again. From inside. You have no idea how wonderful it is to feel your orgasm from inside. Can you do that for me?”

Micca’s happy expression faltered, then came back even stronger. “Yes, Lin. It’s yours.” With that, one hand dropped to her pubis, and the other toyed with a thickening nipple. I felt her probe herself blindly, since her eyes continued to hold mine. Her hand moved uncertainly for a few minutes, and she shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t think I can, standing up. Is it OK if we lie down?”

“Of course,” I answered, not sure how to handle that obedient trust. “But I have to get clean, too.”

“May I?” She sounded like a little girl promised a new toy.

“Please.” I stood as she had, arms and legs spread so she could was every part of me. She started, as I had, by washing my hair. Mine is a lot longer than hers and very thick, so I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the feel of her kneading the lather into it. Then she rinse the shampoo out, worked the cream rinse in, and left that to sit while the rest of me got her attention.

First, she turn me around and massaged soap into my shoulders and back. She sort of skipped my bottom, then did my legs in long, strong strokes. She turned me to face her again, and started on my legs. Then she stood and soaped my shoulders. Instead of staring into my face, her attention had locked onto my breasts. She approached them slowly and cautiously, unsure how to proceed for some reason. I made happy noises as she massaged the sides, and pulled my arms back and pushed my chest out to encourage her. Finally, she cupped one of the little things in each hand, and scissored each nipple at the “V” near her thumb. She looked into my eyes again, and said, “God, I wish I had breasts like yours.” She massaged them for a moment longer, my nipples poking the center of her hands.

Then she reached down between my legs. She looked down as she soaped my pubic hair, not looking at what she was doing but looking away from my eyes. Much too soon, she reached for the sprayer and rinsed me nervously. I just didn’t get it. I couldn’t wait to feel her hand on my sex, exploring as I had explored her, but she shied. What could I do to get her to touch me? I toyed with my pubic hair while she rinsed and thought.

“Micca, would you shave me?”

“What?” almost a yelp. “You mean, down there?”

“Yes, I want to know what it looks like, what it feels like. Would you do it for me?”

“Well, OK.” Hesitance and determination fought. Determination won.

“You’re the best friend ever.” I wanted to encourage her any way I could. “Let me get a fresh razor.” I dripped all over the bathroom getting a new disposable and the liquid soap, then stepped back into the shower. I leaned against the rear wall, cold against the tile, and grabbed the shower’s towel bar for balance I set one foot up on the edge of the tub, and said, “You’ll be careful, right?”

She didn’t answer, but was already on her knees in front of me. Once she decided she was in, her attention focused entirely on the job at hand. She worked up a light lather, massaging the soap into my pubic hair. That gentle stimulation had me quivering inside. Then popped the cover off the razor. Starting at bursa anal yapan escort the top, she worked her way carefully downward.

The first part was easy, low on my tummy and out toward my thighs. Micca slowed as she worked toward my crevice, working in short, careful strokes. After a while, she had to handle me to get all the hidden spots. Cautious at first, she gently stretched one of my labia to the side, to get in near the thigh, then spread it carefully open to get the fuzz just inside the fold. Her touch became bolder on the other side, but no less careful, then she went back up to spots she had avoided earlier. I felt myself twitching inside, I was so excited. Still, I didn’t want to challenge her new sureness.

She felt low and back, between my legs, to find the spots toward the back that needed it. I nearly laughed out loud, watching her turn almost upside down to look up at what she was doing. Then she went back to the top, to the part just where it folds inwards, to get the few bits of fuzz just inside the fold. Thumb and finger of one hand opened me while the other cautiously harvested the last of my little crop of hair. I wanted that moment to go on – just a few moments more, and my orgasm would have poured into her hands.

Micca checked her work, stroking every part with her fingertips, over and over. Up the outer lip, down its inner edge, up the other side, and down toward my thigh again. She seemed not to notice how ragged my breathing had become. She stood to switch the sprayer on, then kneeled again and directed the warm water up between my legs. She rinsed carefully until ever trace of soapy slickness was gone. She took care with the inner folds, too, then worked down low. I could feel myself tensing under her touch – and she seemed to have no idea.

Then she touched that deep point and I arched. “Micca, that slippery bit isn’t soap.” She startled and almost pulled her hand away, then held her ground. Keeping that touch where it was, she dropped the sprayer. The other hand, thumb and finger, spread me open again. She examined my inner lips and clitoris closely.

“I expected this to be, …” She faltered. “I didn’t think it would be so pretty. So delicate.” A finger stoked the side of my clitoris, sending a happy spasm outward from the center point.

With her finger still on the side of my clitoris, Micca looked up at me with a happy smile. Then she pressed a long warm kiss against my mons. The bare skin tingled at her touch. It held for a moment, then shifted, held and shifted, working its way down. She got to the point where pressure passed through to my clitoris, and my free hand found the back of her head. Feathery kisses continued downward, opening each inner fold with her tongue or lips. I moved my foot from the side of the tub to her shoulder, then behind her head. I tilted the lowest, warmest part of my vulva up to her, open wide, and felt the exploration continue. Micca had me trembling at the edge of orgasm by the time she worked her way back up to my clitoris. She took it gently between her lips and pressed.

Still pressing, her head shifted side to side. It looked like a “no” shake of her head, but it meant “yes, yes, yes!” I felt the tremors building deep inside. She kept the pressure against my clitoris even as she pressed her tongue-tip as low and far in as she could. I felt ragged moans coming from below my lungs. My throat had that raw feel of yelling, but I couldn’t hear myself. All I could do was wrap myself around Micca’s magical kisses, press her hard against me, and do something to keep from falling over. I felt my pelvis explode around that warm kiss. Micca held close, and my body tensed around her again and again.

The waves came lower and lower as my orgasm passed, so there was no one moment when I could say it was done. But, eventually, it was done. I softened the hold on the back of her head, and moved my foot from her shoulder to the tub floor. I was wracked, panting, half laughing out loud. “You come up here,” I told her. I couldn’t trust myself to let go of support yet.

Micca stood. I held her head again, and pressed it to my lips. That was my taste on her mouth. She had me inside her mouth, inside of her. Maybe that’s why guys like oral sex so much, that feeling of being accepted so deeply. She returned my grasp, pulling my bottom against her hip and covering one of my breasts with her hand.

I was still panting. “Where did you learn do to that?”

“My boyfriend tried it a few times,” Micca said, holding me. “He meant well and really tried, but he didn’t know what he was doing. I didn’t know what to tell him, either, but I liked it anyway. Then, when I saw your … you …” She still couldn’t use the words. “I kind of figured it out. You were so pretty, I couldn’t help myself.”

I was still trembling. “I need to sit down.” Micca pressed against me once more, turned off the shower, and opened the shower curtain. We took turns drying each other with big fluffy towels, and I felt the warm weight of her breasts again. I passed her a soft terry robe while she toweled her hair, and I put on a print kimono. I stood on a stool and looked in the mirror. I felt my new nudity with my fingertips, enjoying that extra sensitivity. Then I stepped down and combed my fingers down through my hair, trying to figure out how to deal with it. Sometimes, long hair can be a pain.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Thanks to everyone who has read and to those who sent feedback. And thank you, Rainey, once more—you saved me!

*****

Wrong Ch. 06: Resolutions

I spotted Chloe immediately when I walked in. She sat nestled in the corner, staring out the window. I could tell she knew I was there by how she tightened up, but she didn’t acknowledge me. She looked awful; I could tell she hadn’t slept.

I made my way over carefully, almost like she had somehow put grenades underneath the chipped tiles of the coffee shop. If I did manage to stumble on one, I certainly deserved it.

When I made it over safely, I dropped into the seat across from her. A waitress came over and I ordered a coffee, trying to keep my voice quiet. I don’t know why. Maybe I felt like if I didn’t disturb her too much with my presence she wouldn’t yell at me. We wouldn’t have to deal with this. It was silly, like a little girl’s fantasy.

Chloe finally shifted and reached for the steaming cup in front of her. The waitress brought my own a few seconds later. Then we were alone.

After a few long and tortuous minutes, she looked up at me. “How long?”

The question startled me. Of course it was perhaps the most reasonable one to start off with, but I was surprised. It dawned on me she thought maybe we had begun when they were still married and I was horrified.

“About two weeks,” I whispered.

She put more sugar into her coffee and stirred. The sound of the spoon against the mug seemed so loud.

“I guess I figured out who he was fucking, huh?”

“I’m so sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She smiled without humor. “You know, I really hate it when people say that. What you mean is I didn’t mean for you to find out. Of course you knew it would hurt me, otherwise you wouldn’t have snuck around.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I just keep wondering how you could be so stupid. You saw what happened with me.” She took a sip of her coffee and looked me over. “Do you really think you’ll be any different? What the hell do you guys do together, besides sex? He’ll grow bored of you, if he isn’t bored already.”

She looked at me with hate and a splash of pity. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

I tried to pick up my cup but my hand was shaking. “I can’t explain it, but Patrick and I really enjoy each other. I know that’s messed up and I know it must hurt you but I can’t help how I feel. I don’t know what to do. I… I love him.”

Chloe’s blue eyes sparkled with perverse amusement. “Yes, I’m sure you do. I bet you even think he loves you, too.” She took in a shuddering breath. “I heard him say it to you, of course, but Patrick isn’t really known for his honesty. Plus, he was inside of you. A guy will say anything when he’s fucking some slut.”

The words were large knives that Chloe slowly and expertly stabbed inside of me. No one can hurt you quite like a sister can. They know the buttons to press, the insecurities you have, the best weapons to use against you. They understand the sizzling burn of a single word.

I was unsure of what to say or do. I couldn’t tell her she was wrong; even I wasn’t exactly sure where Patrick and I stood, in spite of everything we’d said and done together. I wanted to defend myself and my burgeoning relationship, but it felt wrong to shout the words at Chloe. She was the injured party here, not me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to say how sorry I am. Everything falls short,” was the best I could come up with.

I had envisioned all sorts of great and convincing things to tell Chloe. I thought our relationship would recover somehow. Now, sitting across from her with nothing but coffee between us, I wasn’t sure.

“I wish I could feel sorry for you,” Chloe bit out. She started to cry. “You’re going to have a rude awakening sometime soon, Nina. And you won’t have your family to fall back on. You’ll have no one. You’ll be totally alone.” She grabbed her bag and stood up.

She threw a couple of dollar bills on the table and gazed down at me for a moment. I looked up at her, forcing myself to meet her glare, and studied her face. It was the face of the sister who waited for me at the bus stop every morning and afternoon. She was the sister who kicked Tommy Parker in the balls for calling me ugly in the 7th grade. She was the sister I shared so many laughs with over the years, who let me borrow her favorite dresses, who understood me for all the times crappy boyfriends and screwy friends didn’t.

“Was it worth it?” she asked quietly.

Then she spun on her heel and disappeared out the door. At a loss, I sipped my coffee. It had gone cold.

****************************************************************************************

When I got back to my apartment, I felt my cell vibrate. The display said Mom.

I didn’t want to answer it. I was depressed, alone and terrified. I just knew this time Chloe had told her, that my secret was fully escort bayan bursa out. I didn’t know how she would react. Mom and Dad both disliked Patrick. Mom told me once he gave her the creeps; he was “scheming” and “calculating”. Yes, he was definitely all those things, but he never had the chance to show her the good parts of him. The wonderful parts that shocked me every time he let me see them, no matter how familiar they’d become.

“Hi, Mom.”

I heard her take a deep breath. “Nina. Your sister was just here. What the hell is going on?”

“I’ve been…” The words got trapped in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “I’ve been seeing Patrick. It’s been going on for two weeks or so. I didn’t know how to tell her, and she found out before I could.” My voice was flat, devoid of feeling.

“Jesus,” Mom whispered. “I thought you hated him.”

“Me too.”

“Chloe is so upset.” Mom made a sound of disapproval. “Did you have to go after her ex-husband?” My father said something in the background that was thankfully muffled.

“I didn’t plan to, Mom. It just happened.”

She sighed. “Nothing just happens.” She said something to my dad and then came back to me. “Honestly, what the hell am I supposed to do? How could you put me in this situation? I’m in the middle of my two children.” She was silent for a minute. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Then she groaned. “And how could you put yourself in this kind of situation? He’s not a good guy, Nina. You can’t possibly think this is going to work. He’s screwing around, trying to hurt you both. Can’t you see that? Not to mention, I think your relationship with your sister is going to suffer for a long time. Her face… God, I can’t get over it. I can’t.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, how are you going to fix it?”

Someone knocked on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw Patrick standing on the other side, holding a take-out bag and looking tired.

“What do you suggest I do?” I let Patrick in and gave him a small smile.

He scanned me up and down, almost like he expected me to be covered in bruises.

“Well, for one thing, you have to get rid of Patrick. Don’t you think that’s obvious? I don’t know what you were thinking about. That man is trouble on many levels. I don’t like him and I don’t want him around you, not to mention what it’s doing to your sister.”

Patrick’s gaze lingered on my face and his features scrunched together in concern. He put his palm on my cheek. For the first time in my life, in spite of everything, I felt completely cared for by someone. Adored. Loved.

“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you when we’ve all calmed down a bit.”

“Don’t you dare hang up! Nina!”

I pressed “end”. It didn’t feel good, but nothing would at that moment. Patrick took another long look at me and whatever was in my face made him wrap his arms around me. For the millionth time since this all began, I couldn’t believe I was seeking comfort from someone who was once my arch-nemesis.

“I love you, you know,” he said a few minutes later. He kissed my hair and stepped back, meeting my eyes.

“I know.” And I did.

What I didn’t know was if it would always be enough.

He smiled and got us two plates, putting food on them. He brought them out to the living room and I followed, watching as he put on a game show. We sat there together, not really paying attention to the TV or even to the delicious food in front of us.

I thought for a long time in that darkened living room, my shoulder against Patrick’s. I loved Patrick and he loved me. Maybe it wouldn’t always be rainbows and unicorns and pixie dust. In fact, it wasn’t even that now. The point was you never really know if loving one another is always going to be enough. It was enough right then, in that moment, laughing with our mouths full at someone’s stupid answer.

Yes, I decided, kissing his eyebrow. It was enough right now. That’s all that mattered.

********************************************************************************************

A week later I was organizing my messy apartment. At the back of my closet, I found a pair of sexy heels Chloe bought me for my last birthday. I hadn’t ever worn them; I never really had an occasion. I slipped them on while cleaning, feeling a bit more glamorous. And a little sad.

We still hadn’t spoken. I didn’t know what to do. Since our last meeting went so poorly, it didn’t make sense to ask her to meet with me again. An e-mail felt insufficient. I rambled whenever I left her voicemails, hardly getting to the point. Text messages were totally out of the question.

I called her every now and then, leaving her a trivial voicemail about how I ran into someone we used to go to school with, or about a sale going on at her favorite store. I wanted to show her how much I missed her, how important she was to me. I hoped to remind her bursa sinirsiz eskort the same about me, but who knew if that was true anymore.

My mom sent me an e-mail, telling me she missed me and she didn’t want to be involved in the fight with Chloe. She said she was disappointed in my actions and that it was going to take a long time for her and Dad to get over it. She suggested it would be best if I didn’t come over for Sunday dinner. I thought it best, too. I was also sure Chloe would be over the house, and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

We made a step towards reconciliation, but I knew things would never be the same. It would take a time for my mother to accept I was serious about being with Patrick, and that Patrick was serious about me.

I heard my apartment door unlock and open. I smiled. I gave Patrick a key to my apartment a few days before. It was stupid to have him knock every time he came over, which was a lot.

Long, warm arms wrapped around my waist. “Nice heels.”

I grinned but then thought about how they were a present from Chloe. “Thanks,” I said softly, moving out of his hold. I yanked them off and tossed them back into the closet, ignoring Patrick’s curious eyes.

It seemed it was going to take a while for me to get over it, too.

**************************************************************************

Later that week I went down to the corner store to buy some eggs and milk. I had run out of the essentials but didn’t feel like going to the supermarket.

I stood on the long line, sighing impatiently. Then I swore I caught a glimpse of my sister entering the store. I got off line impulsively and followed her to the back. I was sure I was just being crazy, just missing her.

She went down one of those dead-end aisles and a weird fear prickled the back of my neck, like she’d brought me there to kill me or something. I was being ridiculous, and told myself I’d watched one too many horror movies.

“Chloe?”

She turned around and it really was her. I was shocked; this wasn’t her neighborhood. She had also cut her hair into a short and lovely bob. She looked wonderful, even if she wasn’t smiling.

“You look great,” I said. An older man pushed by me and I dropped a box of cereal from my basket.

She leant down and picked it up, placing it back on top. “Thank you, so do you.”

My heart warmed up. She was lying; I was wearing sweats and I didn’t have any makeup on, but the fact she was trying gave me hope.

We were quiet for a moment. Chloe was eyeing the filled shelves, and I was staring at her. She wasn’t even uncomfortable. She always could hold her own in the most difficult situations, while I just went to pieces.

I couldn’t endure the silence anymore.

“I know it’s only been two weeks since I saw you, but I miss you.” I said it in a rush without thinking. I shut my mouth after and knew I’d probably scared her off. Here she was, right in front of me, not running away and being pleasant. I ruined it by referring to the delicate subject.

Chloe surprised me by smiling. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I got your messages.”

“Do you think—could we get a drink together sometime? Something like that?”

She grabbed something off the shelf but I was too nervous to pay attention to what it was. Then she looked at me. It was such a sad look, almost sympathetic, like she was sorry for me.

“No. No, I don’t think we can.”

The warmth fled from my sinking heart. “Oh. I understand.”

She shifted on her heels and peeked at her cell. “I have to run.”

“Chloe. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Her face softened. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Tears filled my eyes. “Really.”

“Bye, Nina.” She walked over and kissed my cheek.

Then she was gone, leaving me under the harsh florescent lights in an aisle that went nowhere.

**********************************************

Patrick asked me to come up for lunch the next day. I went into his office, a little nervous to be seen by his partners in the firm, and especially his secretary, Karen. She was friends with Chloe and probably knew about the whole thing.

Karen sat at a big desk in front of his office, clicking at her computer. She looked up and smiled at me when I walked over. It was all very professional. She was professional. And mature. I wished I could be so grown up.

“Hi, he said he’d be out in a minute. Can I get you coffee or anything?”

“No, thank you.” I sat nervously on the couch, waiting for her to pounce on me or fling angry accusations.

Nothing happened. Patrick came calmly out of his office a few minutes later, Karen wished us a good lunch, and we were out in the afternoon sun without incident. I promptly burst into tears.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Patrick asked, pulling me over to the side.

I shrugged. I didn’t know, escort bayan exactly. “I can’t deal with all of your, whatever. Your friends and coworkers. Not that I’ve really met any of them.”

Patrick’s head tilted and he sighed. “Okay, so you’re upset I didn’t introduce you to anyone? I have to get back for a meeting and—”

“No, no, it’s not that. I just mean that they all must know who I am, or if they don’t… Well, they will, won’t they? It’s just embarrassing. What are they going to think of me?”

Patrick’s eyes squinted at me. “I don’t know… Who gives a fuck?”

“I do!” I cried loudly. People paid us no mind as they walked by, but I felt foolish. “I do,” I said again in a quieter voice. “It just makes me look bad.”

“Nina. You have to grow up. Yeah, it’s not particularly flattering but you have to remember you’re going to offend people almost every day of your life. You take too long on line, someone’s fucking offended. You get a promotion, someone’s offended. You forget to send a birthday card, forget it. The end of the world.”

A little smile flitted across my face.

He ran a hand through his delicious hair, glinting in the golden afternoon light. “You chose this. This is the course you’re on. With me. There’s no going back. You need to decide right now, this very minute, if you want to continue. You know the risks, the drawbacks of this situation. You have to decide if it’s enough, and then you have to stick with it. No more internal debates or doubts or whatever the hell goes on in that head of yours. Be confident with whatever you decide and people will respond to that.” He kissed my knuckles and then pinned me with a serious stare. “What will it be? Do you want to be with me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling my hand from his. His face fell. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his lips. Against them, I said, “I choose you. Always. No more second thoughts. I don’t care about anyone else. Or I’ll—at least I’ll try not to care.”

His hand traced my face. He took a heavy breath.

“Let’s ditch lunch,” he said.

I laughed, letting him pull me along.

Later that night, Patrick was watching something on my TV. My cat was on his lap and the both of them looked so content—so at home—that I nearly cried over it.

But then I decided I’d done enough of crying, of second-guessing, of holding Patrick back with an unsure hand. He was right earlier in the day; I had to grow up. Patrick wasn’t some guy I was just “seeing”. He was my boyfriend. I felt things for him I’d never, ever felt for anyone else.

I walked over and picked Rufus up, putting him on the floor. He meowed with displeasure and then scurried off.

Patrick looked up at me with amused confusion. “What’d you do that for? We were getting in some bro time.”

“Ew, never say that again.”

I sat on his lap and kissed his neck.

“Ah, now I see where this is going. You were overwhelmed by my beauty as I watched television and selfishly decided to have your way with me.”

I laughed into his neck. “Patrick, stop talking.” He opened his mouth to say something else but he quickly shut up when I ran my tongue up his throat. When I reached his lips, I pressed my own against them and shoved my tongue into his mouth. He moaned and finally moved, threading his fingers into my hair.

I pulled away and smiled.

Patrick panted, watching me. “What the hell was that for?”

I straddled him, loving the predatory look in his eyes as I lifted my skirt and slipped my panties down as far as I could. “Just because.”

His hands ran up my thighs and reached around to clutch my bare ass. “Just because?”

“I love you.” I leaned over to kiss him again. I could feel his cock pushing insistently against my hip.

I readjusted and took him in my hand, sliding him through my wetness for a moment before sinking down onto him. He groaned and rested his head back. He watched me move with hooded eyes.

“You were right,” I whispered. “I need to be mature about this. Grown up. No more indecision.” I thumped down against him heavily, letting him push deeper inside of me. “I wasn’t expecting this. You. I was totally blind-sided. And my sister… It got all fucked up. But I know I love you, and I don’t want to be away from you. I want to be good for you.” My breath sped up and I was having a hard time speaking, but I felt it needed to be said. “I want to be the strong woman by your side. And you make me strong. I don’t care what people will say. Even my family. This is my life and I love you.”

Patrick lifted his hips to thrust into me. “Only you,” he grunted, “would have a serious conversation during sex.”

I grinned. “Love me or leave me, Patrick.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” he said with a big smile.

And I did. When we came, it was together—with our eyes locked and our arms around each other.

Chapter 7: An Ending, A Beginning

I dragged Patrick through the snow, clutching his gloved hand with my own. We were going to be late.

“Are you sure we really have to be there?” he called from behind me.

“Patrick!” A snowflake caught on my eyelash and I rubbed it away, likely smearing my mascara and eyeliner everywhere. “You are such a fucking devil.”

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“I don’t usually strike up conversations with strange women in the neighborhood saloon, but there’s a dress code here at the Silver Dollar, and I couldn’t help noticing that you aren’t wearing a bra.”

“Hey; I’m not strange, I’m Beth. And, you’re fresh!”

“No, I’m Joe. Joy Coyne. And, I was just admiring the cleavage exposed by that serendipitiously unfastened top button. Such a tantilizing temptation, to slide down those glorious slopes, and disappear for an eternity into that deep, dark crevasse.”

“Blarney.”

“Shows, eh? With the red hair and a name like Coyne, you couldn’t tell? Anyhow, I apologize for being so forward. I’m really not like that.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet!”

“I noticed you’ve been watching the door for the last ten minutes. Waiting for someone?”

“My friend, Annie, was supposed to meet me here after work. She was going to introduce me to a guy.”

“Annie Vogel?”

“You know her?”

“She drops by; two, three times a week, with her new boyfriend. Lovely gal. Pert, pretty, petite. Quick wit and a saucy retort for frisky customers. Why don’t you give her a call?”

“I don’t have her home number.”

“I do, upstairs.”

“Up-?”

“My office-slash-apartment. I own the Silver Dollar. Annie used to work here, when she was in college. Paid her tuition with tips. And earned it with her mind, not her other less evident, but equally outstanding talents. There I go again, telling tales out of school. Come along, then; bring your beer with.”

“This is nice! You have a great view of the bay. I love the bridge, all lit up at night.”

“Phone’s on the desk, over there. Annie’s in the Roladex.”

“Dum de-dum dum; doo doo. Ring ring ring. Annie, Annie, Annie. Come, on, Gal; pick up. No answer. Dang! And I don’t have her cell number.”

“You smoke?”

“Cigarettes, or-“

“Or.”

“Sometimes. But, I really should get back downstairs, in case Annie shows up.”

“I’ll call down to the bartender, tell him to give us a shout if she shows.”

“Well, I guess. Boy, you rolled that doobie like a pro. You, uh, deal a little weed, too?”

“Why? You a customer? Or a cop?”

“Maybe. . .”

“You wearing a wire?”

“I guess you better check, before lighting that J.”

“I like taking risks. Here; first hit is yours.”

“Man! That’s good stuff!”

“A connoisseur. Or, a cop. Maybe I’d better check for that wire, after all.”

“Maybe you’d better.”

“These buttons are tiny. And I’m such a fumble fingers.”

“You’re doing O.K. Give me another toke.”

“Well, I don’t see a wire. I think I should take your blouse off, just to be sure. Don’t want to wind up in handcuffs.”

“No? That can be fun, you know. . .”

“Wow. You have the most spectacular breasts I’ve ever seen!”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that. I’ve posed, for a few art photographers. I like to hold them, cup my hands under them, this way, feel the weight. And doing this can trip my trigger; I wet my fingers in my mouth, lightly circle my nipples, just barely touch them.”

“I bet it would feel even better, if someone else did that for you.”

“Let’s find out.”

“Well, it feels awfully good on this end. Your nipples are getting hard!”

“Uhm hmm. And, I think maybe there is a wire, after all. ‘cause I’m getting an electric shock that’s nowhere near your hands!”

“I think I should check. OH! Pierced navel. An exhibitionist, eh? I could chip a tooth on that arrow. Boy, your jeans are tight! Suck your tummy in, Beth. There; got the button popped. Now, the zipper. Zip, zip, zip. Ever notice that the name is it’s sound? Zzzzzzip.”

“Zip, Zippy Zippy, zip-zip. I’m getting stoned!”

“Join the club. Lean on my shoulder, lift your leg, so I can get- OOPS! Your breast jumped into my mouth! Trying to distract me. Successfully, too. Lift your other leg. Yeah. Wow; a red thong. I guess I’d better peel it off. Can’t be too careful, looking for wires.”

“Nope. Nuh uh. Gotta be careful. Better safe than sorry.”

“Just let me kneel down, feel around the back. . .Oh, what lovely buttocks. As soft and full as your breasts. I think I need to take a quick check, up front here, between your legs. Oh, you shave! That’s so görükle escort sexy, everything out in the open, on display. You like that, don’t you? Going braless.”

“Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. I’m twenty three, young and tight and firm. Too soon, I’ll be all flab and cellulite.”

“Let me just put my fingers in here; these modern electronics are pretty small. My tongue is very sensitive, I better use it to search. Oh, oh, there’s something! Kind of hard.”

“Yeah, it is! And, I think it’s transmitting some kind of electric signal, ‘cause I’m definitely getting a message!”

“Hey! You’re hurting my ears!”

“Sorry. It’s your own fault, starting that fire with your tongue. Good thing I’ve got all this wetness, to put it out. I need to sit down, now. Hey, no fair! You still have all your clothes on.”

“I can fix that.”

“Ooh, nice six pack abs.”

“I have one of those gym machines, in the bedroom.”

“We’ll have to check that out. Later. Let me help you with those pants. Oh, silk briefs! You got a grapefruit in there?”

“Why don’t you kneel down, find out for yourself?”

“Wow! What a monster. Only he’s shy, won’t look at me. He just stares at the floor. What’s the matter, Mister Dickie, don’t you like Beth?”

“Maybe if you gave him a kiss. . .”

“That seems to be working. God! I can’t even get my hand around it! How big does this thing get?”

“Beats me. I never measured it. Want a ruler?”

“What I want, is to see how much of it I can get in my mouth.”

“Looks like about half, to me. Sure does feel nice. Wet and warm. I love the way your lips look, big and pouty, as they slide down the shaft. Rake me with your teeth, Beth, just a tiny bit.”

“Like that?”

“Yes! Like that. I really, REALLY like that! Only, you’d better stop, unless you want a surprise.”

“I love surprises! And, I bet I can get more than half in my mouth.”

“Ah, Beth! I’m gonna come. RIGHT N-N-NOW! Yeah, keep jerking it; oh, baby, more more more, that’s it. Oh, stand up, kiss me, I want to taste myself.”

“Mmmmm. That’s sexy; all sticky and slippery. Rub it on my breasts. Oh, that feels sooo good.”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, have some real sex. I mean, oral is fun, it’s great; but more of a preamble than the main event. Plus, I’ll last a lot longer, the second time.”

“Well, I hope so! That was a ten second explosion.”

“Sorry. It’s been a couple of months since I got laid.”

“Me too. I went with a guy for about a year, but I could see it wasn’t meant to be, so I broke it off. You probably think I’m such a whore, letting you get into my pants, ten minutes after we met.”

“No, not at all. Sometimes there’s an attraction. Like ZAP! You know; the way two magnets snap together.”

“Unless their poles are reversed, and they can’t get near each other. Oh, what a big bed. And satin sheets. You devil!”

“Come here, kiss me. Mmm, that’s nice. I love the way your lips feel. You have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Lie on your side. God, but you are a beautiful woman, Beth. I could look at you forever.”

“Fine; only touch, too. Yeah, down there. Oooh, I’m wet again. And you’re getting hard!”

“I’m going to slowly kiss my way down, starting here, with your neck. And your breasts. I want to suck your nipples, make them hard. Oh, boy; they get rosy red when you are turned on, you know that? Of course you do! And now your belly. You have such erotic skin; smooth, flawless. I love the tan lines. You wear a bikini, don’t you?”

“Yes and no. Some times, nothing. When I go up on the roof.”

“Do guys watch?”

“Uh huh. From an office building. I catch the sun, glinting off binoculars!”

“Slut!”

“Bad girl!”

“You taste awfully good, for a bad girl.”

“Mmmm. You have such a talented tongue. Only, I want to fuck now. I want that big, stiff cock up my cunt! I hope that doesn’t bother you. Dirty talk.”

“No. It’s a turn on. But it’s not dirty. It’s sexy, it’s horny. I had a girl friend, a long time ago, who was a screamer. Had to be very careful when and were we did it. Made the mistake of doing it up here once, during Happy Hour. Talk about embarrassing!”

“Sorry for the laughter; I’m just picturing eskort bayan the whole scene! Hey, stop that, I’ll come again.”

“I thought that was the idea.”

“I told you, I need to get fucked! Get up here, lie on your back. I want to get on top, ease that thing up into me. Man, you’re harder than before! Let me throw a leg over.”

“You want me to put it in?”

“No, I wanna do it all. You just lie there, like a piece of rental meat. I’m going to fuck myself. You like playing with my tits, don’t you? Go ahead, tease my nipples. You can’t see what I’m doing, can you?”

“Nope, just your lovely face, your silky chestnut hair, falling on your shoulders, your big breasts. I like the way they sway, when you move. What are you doing, down there?”

“I’m rubbing your cock head on my cunt, getting it all lubed. You’re big, and I’m tight. It’s gonna be a job of work!”

“I don’t think so. Feels like it’s already in.”

“Yeah, but just the head. O.K., now I’m gonna slowly sit down on it. Oh, God! I’m getting stuffed. I need to rise up, get it slicker. There! All the way in! Oh, man oh man! If I rock back and forth, it presses against my clit. Squeeze my tits, Joe, squeeze my tits! Oh, Joe, Joe, I’m falling down the mountain! Hug me tight! Kiss me, kiss me. Deep, deep! Mmm, yeah.”

“Hold on, Beth. Now I want to thrust, withdraw, thrust, shove it way, way, up your cunt. Wow; you’re so tight. I was wrong, I’m not going to last very long this second time. Oh, here it comes; ah ah ah, oh Beth, baby. What are you DOING, inside? You have muscles that I never knew existed.”

“You like my trick, Joe?”

“My little milk maid!”

“God, I feel so stupid, crying like this. Hold me, hold me, hold me.”

“Did we fall asleep?”

“Huh? Jeez, I guess we did. For a while, anyway.”

“Let’s get a shower. I don’t like this dried semen on me.”

“O.K.Sure smells sexy, though.”

“Soap my back, Joe. Hey! I said back, not ass.”

“Your ass is part of your back.”

“So are my heels, but I don’t see you paying much attention to them.”

“Touche. I love the slippery feeling of your wet, soapy body. I have this fantasy of pouring about a quart of warm baby oil all over both of us, and. . .”

“And it would be an awful mess to clean up. Not to mention that it would taste terrible!”

“Hey, I said it was a fantasy!”

“A pound of melted butter would be much better.”

“I don’t have a pound of butter.”

“Put it on the shopping list.”

“I’m starting to prune. Let’s get out, dry off. You hungry?”

“Uh hum. Can I have a second helping of cock?”

“Slut! I meant food. You like Chinese?”

“Well, of course. Can we get delivery?”

“Golden Dragon, across the street. The food will be here before we get dressed.”

“Then, why bother?”

“Throw on this robe. I’ll call. Anything in particular you hungry for? Besides that! And, it’s impolite to point.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you sure did a lot of pointing, about half an hour ago.”

“Har har.”

“Can we eat it in bed?”

“And you thought baby oil would make a mess! Oh, hell, why not; the sheets are going to have to be changed, anyway.”

“Let’s try the chopsticks. Here, I’ll feed you a shrimp. Oops! Sorry.”

“Ow! That’s hot! Lick it off, bitch.”

“Yes, master. Now you have to eat these noodles, off my tits.”

“What are you doing with that plum sauce?”

“Basting your dick. It looks about done; all shiny. Pour me some more tea.”

“Wow, that’s a whole new definition of hot sex! Take another mouthful of tea, Beth; that feels sensational. You just come up with that, or is it part of your repertoire?”

“New, but a variation. My boyfriend and I use to kiss and drink coffee. This is waaaay better!”

“Climb on me, I want to eat you, too.”

“You know what the square root of sixty-nine is?”

“No, not without a calc-“

“Ate something!”

“Exactly what I plan to do. Mmm, your breasts feel good, brushing against my stomach. You’re really enjoying that plum sauce, aren’t you?”

“Ho ho. Is that your tongue, or are you trying to stick a shrimp up my pussy?”

“Is it all right, me touching your ass with my fingers? altıparmak escort Some women don’t like that.”

“No it feels. . .good. Strange, but good. I never had anyone do that.”

“No? The anus has the same nerve endings as the lips, did you know that?”

“You’re kidding! Maybe that’s why your fingers feel so nice. You ever, you know. . .do it there?”

“No. Thought about it, but; no, never tried.”

“You want to?”

“You mean now, with you?”

“No, you dope! I meant next week, with your brother in law.”

“I don’t have a brother in law.”

“S.O.L. I guess you’ll have to settle for me.”

“O.K. We’ll need a better lubricant than plum sauce, though. You think olive oil will work?”

“You don’t have any sex stuff? KY, Astroglide? A dick big as yours, I’d think you would have some on hand.”

“Sorry. I have lubricated condoms. Which I think we should probably use. I’m not so sure this is a good idea, us both being anal virgins.”

“We can always send out for a coach. I bet you got a few downstairs, could talk us through it.”

“Never mind! Kneel on the edge of the bed, raise your butt up.”

“Ooh, that’s cold!”

“Sorry. I can put the bottle in a bowl of hot water.”

“No, I’m fine. I hope that’s Extra Virgin olive oil! Oh, yeah, that feels lovely, whatever you’re doing.”

“That’s my tongue. And this is my finger. Uhmm, tastes good, although I think it needs a little balsamic vinegar. . .”

“Put your finger in.”

“First, I want to try to get my tongue in. It’s softer, won’t hurt as much.”

“It doesn’t hurt at all. How did you manage to get your tongue past the muscle?”

“Olive oil and perseverance. Plus, you seem to be relaxing.”

“I am; because I’m really liking this. Trying new stuff is a turn on. Use your fingers, Joe. Open me up. Stretch me. Make me ready for your cock.”

“O.K. Let me know if it hurts. I’m sliding my thumbs in, about an inch. Now I’m spreading them apart.”

“Joe? Put your cock in my cunt, while you’re doing that to my ass, with your thumbs. I need you inside me, right now.”

“O,K., you say so. Only you’ll have to put me in; my hands are tied up at the moment.”

“More handcuff jokes? You’re sick!”

“Ohh, that feels good! Can I thrust, or you you just want me in there?”

“I want you up my ass, Joe! I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Oil up your cock and slide it in!”

“You’re sure? You still feel pretty tight.”

“Do it, damn you!”

“Here’s goes, ahh, shoot. I can’t get it in.”

“Let me do it; I’ll reach back between my legs . . . There! I’ve got it right at the entrance. Now, PUSH!”

“Oh, yeah, Beth, it’s in; just the head. God, it’s so tight.”

“Move, move; in and out. I want to feel it move. Yes, that’s good. Oh, I gotta play with my clit.”

“Man, it looks so sexy, my dick going into your ass, all shiny with the oil. I don’t know how long I can last.”

“Think of Queen Victoria. Smokey the Bear. How far is it in?”

“Uh, about half way.”

“More. Give me more! I want to feel your balls against my cunt!”

“There. That’s all I got. How does it feel?”

“Packed. Stings, a little bit. Now, fuck me, Joe. Hard and fast; I’m about to come, and I need you to blast me.”

“All the way out, all the way in, all the way out, all the way-“

“AH AH! Hooooooo!”

“INNNNNN! Oh, Lord, I never thought I could come like that. I gotta fall on you, I can’t stand up. Baby, are you crying? Did I hurt you?”

“No no no no no. Can you keep it in me, if I roll over? I want to look at you, see your face, I want to kiss you, I want to hold you, I want I want I want. . .”

“I want to kiss away your tears. What the hell is that noise?”

“Shit! my cell phone. I bet it’s Annie. Get my bag, Joe? I don’t think I can walk, right now.”

“Here you are. I’m going to go wash my dick; be right back.”

“Hello? Annie? What the hell happened to you? No, it’s all right, we can do it tomorrow. Yeah. What’s this guy’s name? Uh huh. See you, Annie.”

“What’s that all about?”

“Annie had to work late, and my cell number is in her other purse, at home. What a screw up.”

“What’s that I heard about a guy?”

“Yeah, the one she wanted to introduce me to, tonight. She says she thought we’d hit it off. I dunno. Some dude named Joe Coyne. . .”

“Come here, you! Snuggle, snuggle, snuggle.”

“Joe? Can I spend the rest of the night?”

“Beth, you can spend the rest of the century.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

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Four

Samba stood still as the white woman stepped out of her hut. She was very excited; her fingers kept touching the hard thing that encircled her neck. As every Amazon knew, that was a bulawa – and the woman had given her one!

She lay down on her cot and closed her eyes, trying to remember. It had been a long time ago, many years before her grandmother was born. At that time, the Amazons were very powerful; they fought against the neighboring tribes, and sometimes even ate the prisoners. This story had been told to her grandmother by her own grandmother. She had just passed the tests to become a warrior when, one day, bearded men in long white robes had come to the village and offered the Amazons those shining things, which came in many forms: necklaces, rings, bracelets… The men had explained that they were amulets, which could make them still more powerful, and also make them feel more pleasure when playing with each other. They wanted to trade them for prisoners; the warriors had forayed into the nearby villages, brought many captives, and earned a lot of fine bulawas as a reward. “We will return after the great rains”, the men had said.

The tribe had waited eagerly for them, but they never came – he Amazons didn’t know why. The bulawas were indeed powerful, so her grandmother had told; the pleasure they granted their owners was far superior to what any other amulet could provide. But after some time, the metal pieces became rusted and had to be discarded. The memory of how good they had made a person feel, however, had persisted and been handed down to every new generation of Amazons. Ever since, the tribe had waited for the men to appear again.

That was many years ago. The tribes of the area, tired of being humiliated and defeated by the Amazons, had moved away. The warriors had had to make a truce with one of them, because otherwise no men would be left to fertilize them, and the tribe would have disappeared. Having no more reason to battle, their ferociousness had slowly decreased; they still retained good shooting and wrestling skills, but that was all that remained from their former aggressiveness.

No bulawa had been seen ever since – until the women from the town had appeared in the village some weeks before. On their wrists, necks and ears, they wore shining bands that could only be bulawas. There had been a heated discussion: should they ask the women to give them a few, or not? Samba was against the idea, and her argument was finally accepted: they had no prisoners to trade, and in fact, nothing that the foreign women seemed interested in. The visitors could refuse to part with such precious things, and that would be quite humiliating. So, the Amazons were reduced to sniffing, licking and biting those ornaments: who knew, perhaps some of their power could be absorbed through their mouths and noses?

And now, the white woman had brought loads of shining things with her. Samba had tasted one on her foot: no possible doubt – it was a bulawa. The woman certainly belonged to those bearded men’s tribe, or at least was on friendly terms with them; what she had to do, Samba thought, was to persuade her to give her tribe as many bulawas as possible. What would she ask in return? She had not mentioned prisoners, which was good, as her tribe was not in a position to offer any. Could it be possible that she just wanted to be caressed, like she had asked Samba to do? It that was true, then her tribe was very lucky.

The Amazon touched again the band around her neck, remembering how aroused she had been while licking the visitor’s pussy. What a strange thing – a tongue on that place! – But it had to be good, otherwise the woman would not have cummed so strongly. She knew ways to be pleased that the Amazons did not; Samba could learn them and have still more pleasure with her usual mates. Even Valera would give in to her! Valera, the most agile and beautiful virgin in the tribe…

Samba put her thumb on her clit and began to touch herself. She did it quickly; her mind wandered from the shining circlet around the woman’s ankle to her rosy labia and to the upright breasts of the girl she was coveting. She could still feel the wetness on her nose and chin; she kept rubbing until her knees trembled and her belly shook in a welcome orgasm.

Meanwhile, Eva had arrived at her hut. Sheera was there, contemplating the metal things she had left on display. Even as the sun was setting down, the heat of the African plain was lingering over the Amazons’ village.

“Sheera, do you know what a fan is?”

“No, Miss.”

“It is a sort of branch with many leaves on its end, that you wave over a person to make breeze. Can you find one for me, please?”

As she returned with a branch like she had described, Eva showed her how to use it and told her to squat behind her. Sheera waved it with care, thinking of the fine bulawa she would soon earn.

“I will get some sleep, Sheera. Fan me while I rest; when I wake up, I want bursa escort to see you here. Understood?”

The last sight Eva had before she fell into a blissful nap was a pair of coal-black breasts bouncing over her head. Two hours later, as she opened her eyes, Sheera was still there waving the branch and giving her the agreeable sensation of a refreshing breeze. She smiled:

“Good, Sheera! Now let us get ready for the dance. I want you to have a very good time – you deserve it!”

Eva had adorned her fingers with silver rings, and put a shining golden cross to her neck: they were the baits she was going to use to fish some more Amazons into her net.

The tribe had gathered in a circle around a big fire; in a quick glance, Eva calculated that there were about three hundred of them. They had brought shields decorated with geometric motives, and were wearing their finest hides. Torches were being lit, and a strong aroma was wafting from the small fires over which chunks of antelope were roasting.

Eva felt a twitch at her pussy as she saw the reflexes of the flames on the Samba’s collar. The warrior looked superb; she was not as fresh as Sheera or Tonga, but her body was firm, with pronounced curves at the hips, a round bottom and long legs. A bracelet made of leopard teeth graced her right wrist. She raised a hand, and a sudden silence fell over the village.

“Saravah, Amazons! Tonight we have a feast in honor of our guest. I have been told that she will live with us for some time; we will do our best to make her stay agreeable. Now we will dance for her, and eat and drink. Drummers, you may start!”

Eva watched awestruck as the women began to stomp their feet to the beat of the drums; soon the whole circle was moving clockwise, the shields going up and down in an intricate choreography. She let her eyes wander on the circle as hips swayed, hands clapped, breasts bounced – the Amazons were getting excited with the rhythmic movements. Hands went up and down again; arms were now close to body, now stretched up in precise gestures. She gazed at the flat bellies sticking out and in again, at the legs and feet moving in precise rhythm, at the skins gleaming with palm oil, at the neat squares of hair on top of their heads. Eva had of course brought her cameras and was shooting every detail of the ceremony.

The dance went on for about half an hour, until the women felt tired. Samba stopped and got out form the circle; a tall girl approached her and rubbed her nose on her shoulder. The leader lifted her chin to show the collar, took the girl’s hand and walked with her into the bushes.
Eva was feeling hungry; she looked around and saw that Tonga was also rubbing her nose on Sheera: it was obvious that the gesture meant an invitation to make love.

“Time for a small test”, she decided. She whistled for them. Tonga whispered something into the other girl’s ear; both rushed to where the photographer was and knelt down.

“Tonga, please get me some food.”

The young Amazon sprang to her feet and in no time came back with a cut of antelope; kneeling again, she stretched her arms and said:

“Miss, Tonga has brought your food!”

Eva patted her head. “Good, Tonga! I see you can remember what Miss taught you. Now, Sheera, please bring me something to drink.”

The girl dashed away, returned with a bowl of palm wine and offered it to Eva as Tonga had done. The photographer told them to stay on their knees while she enjoyed her first African meal; that attracted the attention of some other girls, who came to inquire why they were in that unusual position. Their faces showed all their interest in Eva’s metallic ornaments.

“I have chosen Sheera and Tonga as my first aides here”, Eva said. “You are all very beautiful; if you help me like these two are doing, I might give you the same gifts I promised them.”

And she walked away, letting Sheera and Tonga tell their sisters what those gifts were. She wanted to have a good look at the other Amazons; she had some definite ideas in her mind, and wanted to check if they could be put in practice.

Eva strolled slowly, watching the females eat and drink, looking for two strong ones. She had seen once, in a film, two Negroes carrying their master on a hammock fastened to a rod; the ends of the rod were on their shoulders, and the man looked quite comfortable in this means of transport. There were no hammocks around the village, but perhaps she could persuade two stout Negresses to build her a sort of litter and carry her around.

The palm wine was beginning to show its effects on the Amazons; some couples were already going on the ground and kissing. Eva smiled as she saw a couple rolling together; “they are not shy”, she thought. A girl stretched her hand to touch her belt buckle; Eva took her hand and stroked her wrist along the bone lines.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes! Are you giving the bulawa to Matomba?”

“Is this what you call escort bursa these?” she asked.

“Yes! You gave one to Samba; are you going to give one to Matomba too?”

“Maybe… if you help me like Samba did.”

“What has she done?”

Eva was going to reply when she caught sight of a Negress sitting beside Matomba; she was giving her breast to a small girl. Eva felt an urge to grab her other breast and suck it, but she controlled herself.

“What is your name, pretty Amazon?”

“I am called Taranga. What is yours?”

“They call me Miss”, said Eva, caressing the young mother’s head. She went on:

“Your other breast seems swollen. Hasn’t your daughter taken it?”

“No. I will have to find another baby, or empty it myself.” As expected, her eyes were stuck on Eva’s anklet.

“I could do it for you, if you want.”

“Would you? Oh, that would be fine!” Taranga cupped her breast and offered it to Eva. Leaning down, the photographer teased the nipple and wrapped her lips around it. The milk tasted warm and sweet; Eva sucked it until the last drop.

“Thanks, Taranga! I could drink this every day! And you look beautiful, too”, she said. Making a mental note to tell Sheera to bring her next morning to the hut, Eva rose up and continued to stroll, greeting here and there a particularly well shaped Amazon, and looking for muscled ones. Her eyes sparkled as she spotted a pair of twins squatting and munching on their chunks of antelope.

“Best specimens thus far”, she thought as she stopped by them and inquired about their names.

“I am Munga, and my sister is Sunga.”

“I am Miss. You two would look lovely with one of my necklaces on!”

“Like Samba’s?” Sunga’s voice sounded eager. “Why have you given her a bulawa?”

“Because she is the leader of your tribe, and has been kind enough to help me when I asked her to. I could give you one, too, if you prove equally helpful. But we will talk about that tomorrow. Now I must rest for the night; this day has been very long, and I feel tired”, she said, stroking Sunga’s salient biceps. “These two would do finely”, she thought. “Let’s see how they react when I tell them what I want.”

The feast was still on, but less and less women were around; most had retreated into the bushes, and Eva could hear moans of pleasure as they gave free rein to their wild instincts. She was sure that Sheera and Tonga wanted to hang with the girls of their age, but she had other plans. She called the two girls and was escorted to her hut.

“I have had such a wonderful night! Please, help me to undress.” Sheera took off Eva’s sandals and unbuttoned her skirt, while Tonga worked on her blouse.

“Miss, everybody is talking about the gift you gave to Samba!”

“The bulawa? What are they saying?”

Sheera was surprised to see that the woman knew that word.

“They all want one! They are powerful amulets, you know.”

Eva held her breath. Then, that was the reason why those savages set such great store by the metallic ornaments! She said in a non-committed tone:

“Ah, are they? What do they do for the person who owns one?”

Sheera looked up at her, a worried expression on her face. How much, exactly, did the visitor know about bulawas? But Tonga was already speaking:

“They make one feel very good when she is with another girl. Don’t you know that?”

“Oh yes, I was just making sure that you know”, Eva replied astutely. “Did you tell your sisters how they can earn one?”

“Yes, I said that you will give bulawas to the girls who help you.” She caressed Eva’s earring: “You will, won’t you, Miss?”

“Good girls will earn them, no doubt! Bad ones will be left without any”, Eva snapped, and turned to Sheera.

“Sheera, you know Taranga, don’t you? Tomorrow morning, as you wake up, go and bring her here. I loved her milk, and promised to help her with it.” She had an idea: “Now, my girls, come here and do to me as I did for her.”

Both stood up and put Eva’s nipples in their mouths; no milk poured, of course, but the photographer felt excited at having them nibbled. She held their heads and smiled, her pussy almost gushing as the Nubians sucked on her firm breasts.

“Use you fingers down here, my dears…”

The two fingers that slid into her hut made her jolt. The girls were clearly used to do that; they increased the speed little by little, rubbing the walls while sucking on her nipples. Eva put her arms around their shoulders and pressed their bodies against hers. She was not sure whether that was the third or the fourth orgasm of the day, but it didn’t matter – she was feeling so good! She held back her climax as much as she could; when she cummed at last, she had her eyes closed, her womb shivering from pleasure as she caressed the girls’ necks.

She took their hands off her breasts and said:

“Lick your finger, my dears: so you will sleep with Miss’s taste in your mouths. This is a powerful bursa escort bayan nutrient I am giving you; you will feel stronger tomorrow. But be careful!” she went on. “Even if you feel the urge, don’t touch yourselves until the sun sets down tomorrow, or the effect will be reversed: you will feel weaker instead of stronger, do you understand?”

The girls nodded earnestly, licking the last drops from their fingers.

Eva lay down and said:

“Sheera, come here; put you head near my breasts. And Tonga, come behind me, I want to feel your pussy on my hips.” She closed her eyes, caressing Sheera’s neck and feeling the balmy African night wrap her and her girls.

Sheera was feeling aroused after having sucked Eva’s nipple and licked that cream from her finger; she burned to touch herself, or to go to Tonga and ask her to play, as they had done some times. But she wanted badly a bulawa; she had just witnessed, with her own eyes, what it could make one feel. She crossed her hands behind her head: better to avoid any temptation – she didn’t want to be weaker the next day!

The girl kept repeating to herself: “two things: not touch, and bring Taranga, not touch, bring Taranga…” “And soon she was asleep. Eva and Tonga had already sunk in a blissful sleep; the hut went silent, and so it remained until the first sunrays entered it a few hours later.

Five

A new day was beginning. Sheera stood up quietly: she did not want to wake up Miss. As she went out of the hut, the sky was rosy in the east; she washed her face and went to see Taranga, who was still asleep. Sheera touched her leg and said:

“Taranga! Wake up, Miss has sent for you!”

The Nubian opened her eyes:

“Huh?”

“Come, quick! Miss wants you at her hut!”

Taranga sat up and stretched her arms, feeling her breasts heavy. She glanced at the baby sleeping on a side of her cot, tied up her hide and followed Sheera.

Eva smiled as they entered the hut; she had asked Tonga to fetch water for her morning ablutions.

“I brought her as you have asked, Miss”, said Sheera, kneeling down and parting her knees. Eva motioned the other girl closer:

“Beautiful Taranga, you milk was so sweet last evening that I could not get the taste out of my mouth. May I have it this morning?”

“Yes”, said the young woman.

Sheera whispered:

“Say yes, Miss!”

Taranga corrected herself:

“Yes, Miss!”

Eva smiled.

“Sheera, did you see the stone Samba has in her hut, that smaller one? I want you to get two or three the same size, to serve as stools. It is not comfortable to sit always on this cot.” She turned to Taranga:

“Come here, dear, and give Miss her breakfast.”

Taranga nodded; she was proud to see how much the lady liked her milk. She knelt by Eva, cupping her right breast; a drop escaped from the nipple. Eva leaned forward and began to suckle; she drained it in long gulps, pressing the nipple with her tongue while the liquid gushed into her avid mouth.

Reaching out under the girl’s pelt, Eva touched her clit. Since giving birth, Taranga had not been with any girl; she was eager for a caress, so she opened a bit more her legs.

“She will associate having pleasure with feeding me”, Eva thought as she moved faster on the soaked clit. The girl was beginning to contract for an orgasm; she decided to let her have it. She fingered that clit in the most expert way she knew, and in two minutes Taranga was shaking her body and having a most welcome climax.

Eva rose up; Sheera was still kneeling, waiting for her pussy to be touched. Eva went to her sack and pulled out a plastic bag, from which she chose a small ring.

“Taranga, I want to thank you for being so kind”, she said, waving the ring in front of her eyes. She smiled as the expected effect appeared once more: the Nubian’s eyes were following her movements, as if she was being hypnotized.

“I had thought to give you something to adorn your nipples, but they could come in the way of your baby’s feeding. So I decided to offer you this very special bulawa: a ring that to be worn on your pussy, so that you feel a lot of pleasure when it is touched. Do you want it, sweet Taranga?”

The girl was so ecstatic that she could not speak.

“What do you say, Taranga? Yes or no?”

“Yes… yes, Miss!”

“That may cause a little pain, but you will look splendid with it on. Sheera, fetch me that sack!”

Sheera did as she was told. Eva got some cotton pads and dipped them in alcohol; ordering Taranga to lie back on her cot, she told Sheera to hold one of her ankles. At that very moment, Tonga came into the hut with a bucket of fresh water; Eva told her to grip the girl’s second ankle and lifted her skirt, exposing one of the finest pair of labia she had ever seen.

The photographer took a piercing tool from the bag and cleaned with a cotton pad the spot where she would mark the Amazon’s cunt. It was the upper part of the labia, so that the ring would not hamper her being penetrated when she mated again. She pressed the instrument on the left labium; Taranga uttered a muffed sound and tried to close her legs, but Sheera and Tonga held her ankles firmly apart.

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Chapter I

Sky annoyed me the first time we met.

She just… annoyed me.

At a co-workers wedding reception at a dining hall on the outskirts of downtown Chicago (a co-workers wedding reception that I really did NOT want to attend) I had escaped to a sheltered veranda that overlooked Lake Michigan in the distance. The view was breathtaking and timeless, and with the band and the conversations muted by distance and closed doors, I had come here to decipher my plan to slip away without being seen.

I had a stomach ache. I had a headache. Something in the food didn’t sit right with me. I had to get up in the morning. My condo was on fire. An old friend was coming in from out of town. Regardless, I didn’t want to be there anymore and I really didn’t want to spend a half hour saying good-byes. I would leave quietly and deal with the fallout another time.

But the view – a fat gray moon shining down on glistening black water – was spectacular. And I stayed to admire it just a little too long.

I work at a legal firm that specializes in hammering people who commit insurance fraud on a major scale. We don’t worry about the little guy who hurts his back and then does yard work while milking a little off the system. We focus on the major players – those who buy turn-over houses for $15,000 and then finagle inspectors, commissioners and builders to write up valued estimates five times that amount. I’m not a very outgoing or forceful person by nature, but I can really work a courtroom to beat down an opponent. Most of the cases I take are settled without ever seeing a courtroom, and that’s a good thing for those I go after.

Yep, I’m that good.

But I have my little taboo interests and my secret little fantasies. We all do, right? In the darkness of my room at night, armed with nothing but my thoughts and my fingers and my toys, I have my weaknesses. But reality shines harshly in daylight, and the shadows keep a lot of secrets.

Boy, do they keep secrets.

So I was standing on that veranda in heels and a black evening gown, one that fell about my form elegantly and turned heads, but without being inappropriate. I would never stand for that. I know I look good – perhaps really good- but a wedding is a day for the bride, not a guest. I thought I looked professional and elegant, yet conservative.

“I hope you weren’t planning on keeping this view all to yourself,” the voice said.

She slid up to the railing next to me and joined my gaze out to the far-off Great Lake. I didn’t look at her directly, but cast a quick glance out of the corner of my eye to at least see who was speaking to me – clearly someone I did not know. She wore black slacks – tight, form-fitting slacks that could have passed for leather at first glance – that accentuated her curves. The slacks were tucked into knee high black leather boots – gestapo style. She wore a beige, sleeveless turtleneck sweater and her skin was almost alabaster white.

And she had pink hair.

Short, almost spiky, pink hair…

When I caught sight of her, of her hair and the way it clashed with her pale skin, she grinned, and the smile was mischievous and intelligent and wonderfully engrossing. I found myself drawn to her at once – at ease. And this was a strange reaction for me because I usually disdained meeting new people and I trusted hardly anyone, especially upon first meeting them.

“Breast cancer,” she said.

“I’m sorry…?” I asked her. Did she just tell me she had breast cancer? Or was she asking me if I did? “You…?”

“My hair,” she said, pointing a finger at herself. “It’s died pink for breast cancer. I’m a kindergarten teacher and the school raised money for breast cancer awareness. My class did a bake sale and I said if we led the school in sold baked goods I’d die my hair pink. We won, so tad da…”

“Oh… it’s quite… it looks good…”

“I’m Sky,” she said.

Although a bit put off at having to engage when I’d come out here to be alone, I didn’t want to be rude.

“I’m Caitlin,” I told her. “Caitlin Drummond.”

The woman’s smile was warm and inviting, strangely engaging almost, as if she were boring into my head. There was a slight squint around her eyes and… I did feel something. It’s hard to explain – hard to decipher with words – but when I did look over at her, when I turned and really looked at her – she was leaning against the railing and studying me so intently I wanted to look away. I felt my cheeks flush with a strange warmth that I did not like nor did I recognize. Or maybe I DID recognize it, and THAT’S why I didn’t like it. Because as I stood there with my hands on the railing, just her and I in the dim light backdrop lighting of the hall, that flush was something I only experienced in my most private moments – when it was only me.

Yet she was burrowing deeper into my head – God, I could feel it – and she was pulling the thoughts to the surface. It was the strangest, most bizarre sensation I’d ever experienced. All I can compare it too is having something inside me, something bursa escort hidden and locked away, pried loose despite my inhibitions.

I tried to look away…

“No, no, no, little one…” She said very softly, very pointedly. “Don’t move. Let me in…” Her eyes were shades of green and blue, and I stared into them, feeling her moving around in my head. My spine tingled and goose bumps raced up and down my skin. It was so inexplicably odd, and terribly intoxicating. I’d had one glass of wine, that’s it, so I knew it wasn’t alcohol. It was her… I sort of wobbled there, my eyes shrinking half closed, and we just stood a few feet apart and staring at each other. Jesus pull back! You’re a lawyer for God’s sakes! This little creepy sex pot is devouring you right now! And I tried to move – I did. I tried to turn away or to speak or laugh or break eye contact, but I couldn’t.

I

Could

Not

Each time I squirmed she held my gaze.

“Just relax, little one,” she said in that strange, sing-song voice. “Let me poke around in there.”

And she did… Jesus, she did. I was able to manage only a sort of lilting smile and a very soft ‘okay’ like it was the most normal thing in the world for a girl half my age to be invading my head. If someone watched us, they would see two – perhaps friends – leaning against a railing and sort of staring at each other, although my eyelids were half closed.

And then I felt her tendrils or whatever they were just sort of slither back out. Pop! And she was out. I leaned against the railing and only now realized I’d been holding my breath.

“I’m not a lesbian,” I blurted out.

But she merely smiled.

“Is that what you think this is about? You being gay…? Or ME being gay…?” She swayed on the heel of a boot while she spoke and the move was strangely erotic. “This isn’t that simple, Megan. This is… a bit more complicated than that. My goal is to make you simple, but… No, I’ve been watching you all night.”

“Y-you have…?” I managed.

“Yes, I have,” she said. “You have a glow about you that screams your submissiveness. One just has to recognize it.”

“I am NOT submissive,” I said, and I was happy to find that my voice was assertive and strong. There you go, girl! “I am anything BUT submissive…”

“You are whatever I say you are,” she said evenly, and my resolve just sort of slammed into a wall as she spoke. I stared at her, in what I hoped was my most stern and forceful courtroom stare. But she stared back. She stared back with eyes that again seemed far more knowledgeable than I thought perhaps they should. She was meeting my challenge, and defeating me.

“Do not try to stare me down,” she said in a very calm, very confident voice. “And don’t play games with me, little one. I’ve seen what’s inside you. I’ve seen what makes those cheeks blush.” I was being scolded and the world was spinning around me. This strange young woman with the pink hair was scolding me like a damn child, and I was doing nothing to stop it.

After a few minutes of her staring at me, and my eyes cast down at her boots, unable to meet that stare, she spoke again.

“Do you know of a little Italian restaurant on Gateway called ‘Le Blache?” I blinked but her words sunk in. I DID recognize the place. I managed a nod. “Talk little one.”

“Yes, I… I know it…”

“Good girl. You will meet me there tomorrow night at 7:00 sharp for dinner. Do not be late. I suspect you will wear a skirt, something modest.”

“B-but I have plans…”

“And you will cancel them, won’t you?”

God, she was digging into me. What the hell was happening? Why didn’t I cuss her out and storm out of there? Slowly I lifted my head – agonizingly slow – until my eyes met hers, and when they did I was just sort of swept away. My stomach swooned like it had the first time I’d kissed a boy when I was twelve years old. My God, butterflies!

“There’s my girl,” she said with that smile. “You will cancel your plans and meet me for dinner, won’t you?”

I opened my mouth to defy her, but nothing came out.

Finally, with all of the courage and self-will I could summon, I managed “I will not… I have plans…” It came out in a strained gasp.

“Caitlin honey, listen to me,” she said evenly. “You will cancel your plans and meet me for dinner.”

I stared at her – hard. I steeled my jaw and grinded my teeth – if she wanted a stare down, I’d give her one! I could feel my nostrils flaring as we fought –as our wills fought! – out here.

She was not fazed.

“Do NOT attempt to stare me down, Caitlin,” she said. “Do not attempt to overpower me or challenge me.”

She said it with such force, such sheer, unbridled confidence, that it sent chills up and down my spine. I swallowed, the first break in the chain, and then I looked down.

“Good girl,” she said softly. “Obedience will be rewarded, sweetheart. Although if you attempt to challenge me again, your punishment will be harsh. Do you understand?”

Very slowly, I nodded.

“So, bursa escort bayan you will cancel your plans for tomorrow and meet me for dinner, yes?”

I could only, half-heartedly, nod: “Yes… Of course…”

“Good – now why don’t you go back inside now? I have friends to speak with.”

But I couldn’t move.

MOVE!

But I couldn’t… Instead I sort of smiled and looked down again. My damn feet were glued to the floor. AHHHH! I wanted to scream but all I did was stand there like an idiot – like a helpless child.

“Caitlin, do you wish to show me something?” She asked.

I tried to shake my head – maybe I did a little. My fingers trembled and my heart raced, raced, raced in my chest. My cheeks were so warm I thought I was now running a fever. I know I had begun to sweat.

“You do, don’t you?” She asked in that tepid, elegant voice.

God, I tried to shake my head! I tried to stammer and stutter a ‘no,’ but I couldn’t. I just stood there – rooted in place.

“You want to show me what’s under that dress, don’t you, dear one?” She said, studying me, enjoying this torment.

No, I don’! I DO NOT!!! A part of my mind screamed and raged against this, but my body resisted. She was somehow infecting my thoughts and I didn’t seem able to turn away. Why didn’t someone come out here to interrupt? Why didn’t someone come to check on me?

“Go ahead, little one,” she said in that silky, smooth voice. “Show me what you have.”

I shook my head, but was blushing furiously. I tried to look back into the hall but couldn’t look away from her – from that perfectly mischievous smile. My fingers trembled and went down my thighs to the hem of my dress and I took hold of it.

“That’s right,” she grinned. “No one’s watching, precious. Show me.”

I looked out towards the distant lake but she pulled me back in. “Look at me, honey…” And I did. Reeled back in like a fish on a line, I lost myself in those eyes and up it came, the hem of my dress, little by little, crimpled along by my trembling fingers.

“That’s right – be my good girl,” she cooed, holding me with those eyes.

I looked down at my hands – hands that were not my own – as they lifted the dress, revealing my thighs, higher and higher, until the black silk of my panties came into view. Higher and higher yet, up, revealing the silk of those panties that covered my trimmed mound, the tiny black thong I’d chosen to wear. She lowered her eyes from mine, apparently convinced I was beyond resisting now, and stared at me down there.

“Oh honey, you look amazing,” she said. “Very, very pretty… Such a precious, precious girl…”

But I was a woman! I was a woman twice her age!

She made a twirling gesture with her finger and I knew she wanted me to turn around, which I did, revealing to her the roundness of my butt (which I knew was my best feature) and the tiny string of the thong where it settled between my cheeks. To my shock and shame, I wiggled my hips at her, and she giggled.

I turned all the way around, still holding my dress up to my hips and staring down at myself.

“You have an amazing body,” she said. “I look forward to exploring it.”

Then she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek – her lips warm and wet.

“Thank you, dear one,” she said. “You can let it back down now. I enjoyed seeing you.” I did so, my dress falling back into place. “Dinner tomorrow night, yes?” I only managed a nod.

Her finger tips brushed my arm as she stepped around me and walked back into the hall, leaving me gasping and panting on the veranda, ashamed and humiliated at what had just happened. But also something more.

I was so turned on, so impossibly turned on, that I couldn’t believe it. My forehead was flushed, not from humiliation, but from an erotic energy so overwhelming I doubted my ability to go back inside. I laughed then, an ‘I can’t believe that just happened’ laugh – that felt damn good. Then I went back inside to find a restroom where I could splash some cold water on my face.

**********

Chapter II

What the heck kind of a name was Sky?

I thought about this – I mean I really thought about it – as I showered and prepped myself for this dinner date. And it was strange, too, that once the decision was made to meet her at seven, there was no backing out. I was on one hand embarrassed by my inability to stick up for myself, but on the other hand wonderfully and strangely excited. After breaking my plans for the night I was overwhelmed with a sense of unnatural calm, as if this was as things were supposed to be. And I was prepping myself like this was the biggest and most eagerly anticipated date of my life.

What was this young woman’s secret? How had she managed to…? My first thought, as I slid into a white satin bra and matching thong, was that I would show up for this dinner and take control of the situation. I don’t know what the hell had happened at the wedding – maybe escort bursa a strange reaction to the wine – but it sure as hell wasn’t happening again. I wore a cute little light green dress/skirt and sandals, My hair was up and pinned into a tail and I thought I looked cute, but conservative – certainly capable of handling this woman half my age.

So I dressed as I did, feeling good about myself and about getting this situation back under control, and I arrived at the restaurant right on time – five minutes to seven.

Sky was already there, seated in a booth in a shadowed and private area of the restaurant. She wore similar black pants and boots as before, but a white, button down blouse. That pink hair shined and reflected the candelight and when I approached the table she smiled comfortably. There was nothing menacing or suspicious about it.

“Hey there,” she said as I slid into the seat opposite her.

For some reason I thought she’d be angry or stern or at least stand offish, but she seemed legitimately happy to see me, which through for a bit of a loop. We ordered a glass of wine (her white, mine red) and spent a few minutes talking about the wedding and about some students in her class whose parents were giving her some problems. When she asked about my job, she seemed interested and engaged with each piece of information I shared. I was caught terribly off guard.

I told myself that in ten seconds I would talk to her about what had happened. Ten became twenty which became thirty… Finally, summoning my resolve, I put my napkin on my plate and looked across the table at her. She noticed my change, and raised her eye brows.

“Yes…?” She asked.

“Sky, I want to talk to you about the other evening,” I said.

“Okay…”

“First off, I don’t understand what got into me the other night at the reception,” I said. “I don’t… I don’t act like that… What I did with my dress, I mean. I’m terribly confused by it and don’t understand. I can only assume the wine didn’t sit well with me or mixed with some aspirin I’d taken earlier. I’ve tried to make sense of it, but…”

“You lifted your dress because you wanted me to see you, Caitlin,” Sky said simply, and her voice carried that even, strong tone again. I blinked as I looked across at her, surprised to find myself flustered again. Jesus, what the hell is happening to me? I blinked, obviously a sudden shock to my system that again bottomed out my stomach. And yet strangely, as she looked across the table at me, I felt a terribly unwanted tingle between my legs. Oh my God, no! This does NOT turn me on! “You behaved in that manner because somewhere deep down inside you in that little dark area you don’t want to admit is there, you wanted to.” She grinned, that cunning look again, and folded her arms on the table top. “I have this magical ability to sort of sneak a glimpse at people’s darkest secrets, Caitlin. And I saw yours.”

“No…” I said softly, shaking my head.

“Yes honey,” she pressed. “I know what it is you really desire. And I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to take you there.”

I kept shaking my head, almost like a child – nonononono.

This only seemed to make her happier. She relished my struggle. I thought of being in court, I thought of my condo, my car, my bills, my friends… I thought of standing up for myself…

“You lifted your dress to show me your body, and I approve of it,” Sky continued, her eyes sparkling. “And you wanted to do that, just like you want to show me your breasts right now.”

“No!” I hissed, but when I did I felt a sharp pain in my temple, like the bursting of a blood vessel. “Please, Sky…”

“Oh stop fighting it, Caitlin,” she said. “It just makes it harder. Although I DO enjoy the struggle.” She inched a bit closed on the table. “Now, do you have something to show me?”

“No no no,” I shook my head, but my body screamed in defiance. But maybe I do! Oh, maybe if I did she’d be happy with me and smile and that would be amazing, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be amazing to make her happy? To just give in and do it? To OBEY…?

“Caitlin, look at me,” she said.

This woman, so much younger than me, devouring me…

Slowly, painstakingly, I lifted my eyes to meet hers.

“I know you’re scared,” she said. “It’s okay… I really had to reach deep inside you to pull this out. It’s what is best for you, Caitlin – I know. Let me turn you on to a world you haven’t even dreamed of.” She smiled, and the kind, gentle smile was back. “So, do you have something you want to show me?”

I swallowed and shrugged and shook my head and looked around and waited…

And then, against every fucking inclination of my being – I nodded very slowly.

“Someone will see,” I whispered.

“It’s fine,” Sky said. “I know the owner and that’s why we’re back here. It’s safe. Go ahead.”

Don’t you do it!!

But I did – my God I did! I certainly struggled with it, but each time I thought of doing what she wanted, of pleasing her and making her happy, my body warmed and relaxed. It was an amazing sensation and totally foreign to me. Suddenly the world around me – MY world – slipped peacefully away. I realized, I guess on some level, that I was trapped in this woman’s strange, hypnotic pull, but I was helpless to fight it.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Lizzie slept late the following day and when she woke her memories of the latter parts of the previous evening were fragmented and incomplete. She pieced together what she could though and found she wasn’t too mortified by any of it. Checking her phone she found a little flurry of lighthearted and impressively creative mockery from her companions of the night before, stretching into the small hours. Anna had obviously passed around word of her early exit and the general theme was her pitiful lack of stamina. She shrugged to herself and decided she could be fine with all that as well.

Looking around the room evidence suggested that even in her drunken state she’d managed not only to get her clothes off on automatic but also to hang them back up. Good skills Lizzie, she thought and then immediately felt a little sheepish that she had caught herself taking pride in essentially having managed to get undressed.

Through a quirk of luck or metabolism she had somehow dodged the hangover she had so richly deserved, so she threw on some comfort clothes and went to see whether she could raid the fridge for anything to eat. Sarah and Ray were in the living room, and seeing Lizzie pass in the hallway Sarah got up and followed her through to the kitchen.

“Hello there sleepy, we got you some yogurt and fresh fruit. We thought your stomach might be a bit delicate today.”

“Morning Sarah, if it is still morning? Thank you so much. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain last night. Did Ray really carry me to bed.”

Sarah laughed, “You remember that do you, we weren’t sure you would. You were definitely on the way out by then. And you were no trouble at all. It’s probably a good job you weren’t a couple of minutes later though or you’d have got an eyeful.”

Lizzie reviewed that, joining dots. Sarah hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to make it complicated for her but she wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet. “Oh god Sarah, I’m so sorry.”

Sarah waved her dismissal of the apology with one hand. She leant against the kitchen counter by the door, a little fidgety, testing out a few positions as if finding it difficult to come comfortably to rest.

Lizzie,” she said at last. “Ray and I have realised we can’t just keep you boxed up in your little room like a lodger forever. We don’t think that’s really fair on any of us, and it definitely isn’t what either of us want, nor you probably.”

Lizzie looked over from where she had been hulling strawberries and slicing them into a bowl. Her little production line ground to a halt as she realised that what Sarah was talking about was almost certainly going to turn out to be more important than breakfast.

Oh crap, she thought, guess I really did fuck something up last night after all. This is going to be the big talk isn’t it. Time to stop fannying around and start looking for a new place then I suppose.

Sarah saw the dejected look on Lizzie’s face. “Hey, hey, it’s nothing bad, at least I don’t think it is. We’d just like you to feel like this could be your actual home is all, somewhere you can live as long as you want to, not just a place where you’re staying until you can find somewhere better. Would that be something you’d be interested in? If you’d rather not it’s OK. I mean we aren’t trying to kidnap you or anything.”

Lizzie gaped, caught completely by surprise. “Wow, no, no that’s great, I just wasn’t expecting it. Are you sure you’re happy with that, are you sure Ray is? I don’t want to be in the way if you don’t want me.”

She paused, glancing out into the hallway, then said in a small anxious voice, barely above a whisper, “Especially Ray. Are you really sure Ray is ok with it?”

“Ray and I are both completely happy with the idea, we talked about it together.” Sarah frowned, puzzled and disturbed by Lizzie’s line of enquiry.

She kicked the door so that it swung smoothly to a close.

“Lizzie I had no idea there was an issue here,” she said quietly. “What’s the problem.”

So Lizzie, having backed herself tidily into her corner, gulped and started by telling her about the conversation she’d had with Ray, about how she wanted more space. She told Sarah about how much she’d been worrying about this ever since, and how she’d been meaning to look for somewhere else and get out of their way but that all the work involved had just seemed like too much of a hill to climb recently.

“And Ray’s lovely I’m sure,” she said, as diplomatically as she could manage. “And she’s been very kind, but she doesn’t talk to me a lot, and I don’t think she wants me around.”

She lowered her voice even further, “I’m not sure she really likes me very much.”

“Look I know it’s probably my fault,” she was babbling now. “But I can’t get my head around her at all. And she’s got this whole chiseled athletic implacable demigoddess thing going on which to be honest just scares the hell out of me.”

Lizzie felt like a bystander in her own head as she watched with horror the words coming out of her mouth. Every sentence just seemed to be making things worse and worse. Only a minute or so ago Sarah had been offering bursa escort her a home and now somehow Lizzie was standing here openly insulting the poor woman’s wife.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she found herself repeating at the end of it, over and over again, not even sure by this point what she was apologising for. Maybe the words she had spoken, maybe more fundamentally her failure to appreciate the most important person in Sarah’s life.

When she’d finished digging her hole, and mercifully managed to stop herself saying anything more awful, or anything more at all, she glanced around the room nervously. Her eyes hunted fruitlessly for somewhere convenient to rest her gaze. She picked up her bowl and the tub of yogurt, then put them back on the counter again. Whatever would help her avoid having to look Sarah in the face. She felt certain that she’d let her down and couldn’t bear the thought of the hurt and disappointment which would surely be there when she eventually had no other option but to see.

As a matter of fact though Lizzie’s fears on this point were unfounded and Sarah wasn’t offended in the slightest. She was disappointed yes, but even then only with her own carelessness, and she was vigorously kicking herself for having let this misunderstanding develop right under her nose. Still, she thought, it could have been worse – there could have been a genuine problem at the heart of it all rather than just a bit of a communication breakdown supercharged by a whole load of paranoia.

“Lizzie, it’s OK sweetie, it’s all going to be OK. There’s nothing to worry about here, this is going to be really easy to sort out. Look you’ve got completely the wrong end of the stick – Ray doesn’t give a damn about whether we’ve got a spare room to store her kit in or not. The way we see it all we’re doing is trading a room which we usually just clutter up with odds and ends, and in return we get to have you here with us instead, simple as that. And trust me, that is what both of us have decided we want.”

Sarah could see that this wasn’t helping as much as she’d hoped, and was still determined to find a way of wiping away the awkwardness, so she moved on to a slightly different approach.

“She does like you, you know,” she said gently. “She likes you a lot actually. Maybe she doesn’t show it in quite the same way as you are used to, but it’s there if you look. Do you think you can take my word on that for now and spend some time seeing how it works out.”

Lizzie nodded, and did look hesitantly up at Sarah now. She’d lost track of her own thoughts in the turmoil of the last few minutes and ended up in a liminal emotional state, balanced like a spinning coin which might come down on either side. She genuinely had no idea whether she was supposed to be feeling elated or upset because aspects of both emotions were still mixed up inside her.

In the end her mind, failing to reach a conclusion on its own, instead took its cue from Sarah. And looking at the open hopeful expression on Sarah’s face all that Lizzie could see there was a trusted friend who sincerely wanted her to be happy. So the balance was nudged over that way, the coin came down sunny side up, and her worry faded. She smiled cautiously and found it was good. Even now though her internal saboteur had one last card left to play.

“Thanks Sarah, I can do that I think. But I have to warn you – I’m not sure I’m that much fun to have around at the moment.”

Sarah looked sympathetically at her. “We can see you’ve been having a tough time sweetie, you’ve not been doing a great job of hiding it, and that’s not going to be a problem for us either OK. There’s no obligation to be fun around here if you don’t feel like it. You’re not under a spotlight, and we’re not expecting a cabaret. You’ll fit in fine so you can stop worrying about that. And now that we’re sealing the deal I think a hug is better than a handshake don’t you.”

Sarah went over to her and that was the end of Lizzie’s resistance. Their bodies met and they stood with arms around each other for a long time in comfortable silence.

“Good, we’ll say that’s settled then shall we,” said Sarah finally. “Now finish making your food and come and watch Ray getting all annoyed about the cricket. Because it’s far more entertaining than the cricket itself, and she won’t let me switch that off. Plus it sounds as if you two still have some ice to break so I think she’d better get a cuddle too – I’ve found physical contact is a very good way of getting to understand Ray properly.”

*****

It was half past ten in the morning a few Wednesdays later. Lizzie was sitting at her workstation dealing with one of her least favourite of her job’s responsibilities. She was collating, and signing off on, the various expenses the sales team had accrued over the previous month.

The first pass through was always the easy (if slightly tedious) bit, whereby the stacks of receipts were reconciled with the entries on the spreadsheets and the printouts of the credit card statements. Then there came the second stage during which the company (represented escort bursa by Lizzie in this case) had to agree it would waive the missing proofs of purchase for clearly allowable items. Things like the lunch in the pub around the corner with the new client, or the early morning taxi to the airport.

All these were fine as well really, and just part of the usual ticking of boxes, but invariably at the end of the process there came the stage threes. These were the last few genuinely contentious expenditures still to be accounted for, and this was the nasty part.

Some specific examples of these might be the lunch for six (with drinks of course) at the Dorchester, or perhaps the five hundred quid spent in cash at two in the morning and listed only as ‘entertainment’ with a blunt refusal to explain any further, or along the same (suspected) lines the evening out with the visiting Saudi clients at Kittens Gentlemen’s Club. Often the items on this list occupied the shadowy ground between justifiable expense, diplomatic incident, and court case.

Fairly plausible company legend told that on two occasions in the past stage threes had escalated into dismissals for gross misconduct and realistically none of them were ever going to be resolved at her pay grade. They invariably got passed up the chain of command so that department heads could strap on their gloves and fight them out.

But nonetheless, to satisfy some obscure point of company policy, each month she’d have to argue the first rounds with the culprits herself and she dreaded it every single time. All this seemed to accomplish was to give her a few hours of unpleasantness while brash angry people took their turns to troop down from the dizzying heights of the sales department. On their arrival they would demand her audience so they could berate her for trying to follow the rules they couldn’t be bothered to observe themselves. And she, the lowly beancounter, had to sit there and take it until the farce was over for another month.

She’d just got to the point where she could no longer justify, even to herself, putting off sending out the emails any longer. So she was sitting mournfully, psyching herself up to weather the coming storm of verbal abuse. Then unexpectedly, as her mouse was poised ready to hit send on the first of them, she was saved from that particular fate and consigned instead to another. Her phone vibrated on the desk in front of her and it’s screen lit up – she had a call coming in from Ray.

Technically the company handbook stated that private calls were not to be taken on work time. These rules had been written back in the nineties though, and everyone had upped sticks and emigrated to the twenty first century since then, hence there was a certain amount of leeway given as long as you didn’t take the piss.

Keeping your phone muted was part of the deal, as was being considerate of your colleagues by not taking your calls at your desk. So, as custom dictated, she stood up and walked over to the break-out area in the corner of the room before answering.

*****

The barrier which Lizzie had built up in her mind between herself and Ray had first broken down and then entirely evaporated in the weeks since she’d had her little meltdown in front of Sarah. Lizzie had done her bit as she had promised and worked hard to put her worries aside. On closer examination she had quickly seen how mistaken she’d been and that her concerns had been grounded in her own invention rather than objective fact.

To put it more precisely she’d not been feeling very likeable recently and so she’d managed to externalise that into a conviction that she wasn’t liked. It had struck her that she hadn’t really understood until now how much of a blow her self esteem had taken when she’d left Amy. She also found herself considering, with this in mind, what else in her life might have been similarly tarnished by damaging events in her past.

She thought Sarah must have had a word with Ray about putting in some extra effort too, although she couldn’t be entirely sure because they hadn’t spoken about it directly. There had been one particular change in Ray’s behaviour which Lizzie was putting down to Sarah’s intervention though. Ray had started being quite uncharacteristically touchy-feely, and this wasn’t something Lizzie could mistake for a coincidence. Ray was definitely making sure she got regular doses of extremely personal time with her.

That first time (when Sarah had dragged Lizzie through to the living room and demanded that she and Ray should hug in recognition of the change in the housing arrangements) it had really been only a part of the ritual of the occasion. A sealing of the deal and little if anything more to it than that.

Since then though Ray had apparently decided a precedent had been set. She had gone on to start inviting Lizzie in for regular hugs whenever she felt the opportunity presented itself. This was generally at least once or twice a day, and it was often just before bed.

These events had been almost comically uncomfortable to begin with. Neither of them had been quite sure bursa escort bayan what the rules were, so both of them would stand there motionless. Their arms would be clasped stiffly around one another, until by some kind of tense unspoken agreement they had accepted they had put themselves through this for long enough and had stepped apart again. After the initial strangeness had dispersed though, and the intimacy of their closeness had started to become more familiar, they’d kind of got used to being around each other’s bodies.

Then stiff arms had gradually loosened and the awkwardness had slowly eased. Before long both of them had started to look forward to bumping into each other at one of those convenient moments, and there would be a spark of conspiratorial anticipation in each of their eyes as they moved eagerly toward one another. Lizzie had to admit that, especially for someone she had previously taken to be emotionally quite detached, Ray did turn out to give exceedingly good cuddles.

In part this was due to the sheer size and strength of her. Ray towered over Lizzie, her chin resting neatly on the top of her head when she held her, and her years of martial arts training had left her lean and muscular as well. In Ray’s arms, and pressed tightly up into her embrace, Lizzie felt very secure and enveloped. Not childlike exactly – she was far too aware that they were both adult women for that. In fact she was growing to admit to herself that one of the reasons she found Ray so intimidating was because she was simultaneously extremely attractive and utterly unavailable. Beyond the purely physical aspect though there was also a much more profound element.

The best way Lizzie had found to describe it to herself was that when Ray had hold of you something made it obvious she wasn’t doing anything else at all. She wasn’t planning her weekend or tallying up a shopping list or filling her mind with any of a thousand other possibilities. She was quite simply holding you, and while Ray was doing that her entire being was going to be focused on this specific point in time, to the exclusion of any distraction, until she decided she was going to stop.

Whipped up into a melange of physical and emotional sustenance the combination was kind of glorious – even though it did tend to have the inconvenient side effect of reminding Lizzie quite how deeply single she seemed to be right now. During these encounters she’d shiver ever so slightly with secret desire, letting herself feel cherished and appreciated as she never had before. Wanting beyond reason to keep on basking in the sensation forever but knowing it could never work out that way. One thing was for sure though, a hug with Ray at bedtime invariably led to a frenzied bout of very rewarding masturbation before sleep.

Returning to the point for the time being though, Lizzie had also gone on to notice that the same phenomenon of selectively targeted attention governed other aspects of Ray’s behaviour.

She found that, though Ray was never going to be what she could call talkative, when she did find the need to speak it was invariably worth Lizzie’s while making sure she paid close attention. Ray always gave the full benefit of her considered thoughts when she spoke, and coupling this with her laconic nature, the signal to noise ratio could be almost disconcertingly high. Similarly when she was listening to you, once again you had that same undivided focus. Lizzie literally never had to repeat herself for Ray. Ray treated everything Lizzie told her as if it was vitally important and remembered it without fail.

After she’d taken all this onboard Lizzie realised, once she taught herself to look for it, that Ray was actually entirely happy to spend time with her. In fact that she was going out of her way to do so and, looking back, that she had been all along.

It became apparent that had stood in the way of Lizzie seeing this in the past was Ray didn’t seem to recognise that she had any particular obligation to keep up a conversation. She just enjoyed the fact of having company without feeling the need to make it the centre of what she was doing. But if Ray had work to do while Lizzie was cooking she’d always quietly set up at the kitchen table, and if Lizzie was watching tellie in the living room Ray would invariably choose instead to work on the sofa with her laptop perched on the arm beside her.

This was all rather at odds with how Lizzie had been used to dealing with her friendships in the past. In her world if you were spending time with someone it had always been by definition the central event. You talked together, or did something together, or you went out to do something else.

As she adjusted to Ray’s style though Lizzie had discovered that she had a taste of her own for this same luxury. This sharing of companionship without the constant need to dedicate your attention to supporting it. She found it was remarkably comforting and relaxing just to be in Ray’s presence. Recently she was beginning to find herself drawn toward the room where Ray was whenever they were both hanging around in the flat. They’d exchange a brief greeting, maybe a few little token words of social grooming here and there, possibly if she was lucky one of today’s hugs. Then they’d get back on with whatever they each wanted to do, but alone with each other instead of just alone.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Seeing through the crack of her doorway the delectable shape of the most beautiful sister to ever grace Alpha Q Sorority I slip into Britney’s room, padding on shapely bare feet. My name is Nadine and I have recently been initiated into this sorority of the brightest and most beautiful; I have longed for a week now to be invited by this young goddess to be her roommate and although I may well be dreaming here as I steal into her most private sanctuary, the last thing I want is to analyze too much and so my attention returns to you, my gorgeous Brit. Taking in the vision of you sleeping soundly in your bed, I sigh with a bottomless sense of adoration as my eyes adjust to the moonlight bathing you in an erotic light that defies description, your delightful young curves fully visible and rather naughtily clad in an unreasonably tight white baby tee and matching panties that hug at the curves of your hips as you squirm on the bed giving me the occasional glimpse of the perfect round form of your cute little bottom ….

… You suddenly cry out softly and I smile with the realization that you must be in the height of a highly-charged erotic dream. My knees weakening as I hear you unexpectedly murmur the words “yesss … there, Nadine, right there” I am slowly and hypnotically drawn towards you as you writhe and wriggle, alone on the bed, left hand cupped under your shirt, right hand moving slowly beneath the shiny white silken fabric of your naughty little panties ….

… Breathing deep the heady and thoroughly intoxicating scent of your arousal which permeates the room with an almost impertinent ardor, I feel myself growing impatient, moist, a demanding lust taking control of me and I force myself to quietly and very, very slowly remove one article after another of my clothing, letting them fall to your floor as my eyes follow the movement of your luscious body on bursa escort the bed ….

… Naked, I climb on top of you, gently straddling and leaning in close, whispering so erotically in your ear, “it’s me sweet baby, it’s me, Nadine. You want me? You want my hot tongue down where your hand is right now? You want my mouth all over your sweet pussy? Kissing you, sucking you, licking you? I’m right here. I’ll do anything you want me to … just whisper yesssssss ….”

… Resting my right hand over the top of your panties, my middle two fingers separated by the thin silk material, finding yours, gently rocking with them as I hear you whisper the word I’ve so longed to hear from you, leaning in to place the most loving kiss I’ve ever given upon your beautiful ripe lips, gently moaning into you as our tongues lazily find each others and I slip myself into your heavenly pleasure-filled dream world with a sigh ….

… I finally break free, kissing my way patiently down your gorgeous body, marveling at your perfect beauty, falling deeper and deeper under your spell with each sublime touch of lips to gorgeous golden skin.The first two fingers of each hand eventually finding and hooking under the waistband of your panties as my elbows rotate upwards and outwards, pushing against the bottom of your thighs, guiding your legs up until your soft calves rest against my shoulders at either side of my long graceful neck while I look down on you with deep brown adoring eyes ….

… Pulling your panties lovingly up towards me as I hear you breath in suddenly, sharply, not sure if you’re still dreaming or awake, not much caring at this point, sliding them up until they rest in front of me, stretched between your small feminine ankles as my hands slide back down, palms flat against the back of your legs, gliding, gliding down the soft smooth skin, then sliding escort bursa back up as I sigh at the decadence of touching you like this, I stroke and stroke and stroke your long luscious legs ….

… Finally sliding my hands back up to your sweet little ankles, gently pushing your legs out in front of me, your lovely limbs pointing straight up as I guide the damp silken material off your tiny feminine feet, resting them delicately upon one shoulder as I take those pretty little feet in each hand guiding your legs back down, spreading you nice and wide before my naked kneeling form before taking your silks, breathing with a deep and lustful anticipation, then pressing the still warm and wet crotch directly onto my nose and mouth, breathing you in as I begin to shudder from deep within myself, sighing, “oh my god Brit, oh … my … fucking … god, I want you so much!!!”

… Laying myself down on my stomach between your widely spread legs, my own legs bent and kicking above my naked round bottom, gently placing your panties, crotch down, against your exposed and slightly flared pussy lips, so indescribably beautiful in this moonlight, I begin placing slow decadent licks against your inner thighs … alternating from leg to leg … so relishing the sweet-salty taste of your perfect skin … licking closer and closer with each stroke of my tongue …. tonguing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, closer, closer ….

… My hot tongue finally at the crevice where your left leg ends ….. licking now with tongue pressed flat and hard, straight up the side of your crotch, carefully avoiding any contact with your heavenly little puss so erotically covered by those naughty silken panties lying loosely on top of you … I finally poise my tongue above your moist wet musky center pushing, pushing, down into the silk fabric, pushing it downwards until I can bursa escort bayan feel the decadent cool silky fabric slipping into you … hearing you whimpering above me as my own voice huskily groans all over my thrusting tongue ….

… My hands gently caressing your inner thighs and the soft erogenous zones where your legs meet your writhing body, tongue working the little ball of silk further and further into your soaking wet pussy, until only the smallest fraction of material peeks out. “mmmm Brit,” I whisper with dripping lust, “I’m sure you taste so unbelievably yummy … which is why I want you wide awake when this tongue of mine finally gets to taste you for real ….”

… Pressing the remaining fabric firmly around your exposed pussy, shielding your perfect slice of heaven from any naked contact with my mouth, I begin to lick at you through the lovely soft silk sheath … lapping at it until it too is soaked through and through, exposing your glorious female perfection beneath ….

… Placing one final kiss against your covered sex, before grasping the material between soft lips, I pull the little flap of material away from you before taking it firmly between my teeth and slowly, slowly, slowwwwwly pulling the sopping wet panties out of you, watching with a yummy grin while you writhe from the agonizing sensation as they slide out of you inch by decadent inch ….

… Giggling, “ooh la la Brit, I think I will most certainly be treasuring these for a long time,” as I take your dripping wet panties into my hands, give you a flirty little kiss goodnight, and slip out your door with a naughty grin, slowly drifting awake in my fluffy white bed, smiling at the vivid memory still playing out in my mind as I pull my hand out from beneath my pillow to discover the still-damp silken ball of fabric clutched tightly within my tiny palm. The naughty grin lighting up my face as I bring the musky material up, breathing the intoxicating scent deeply and thinking, “soon, very, very soon.”

Stay tuned for further adventures of sexual abandon between me and my new Sisters …. kisses!! :x:x:x

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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Ellie woke in the mucky aroma of last night’s cigarettes and hard, oh so hard cider. Her musty hair clung to… “whose pillow is this?” she thought. She shot upright, constrained and trapped in sheets she did not recognize. “Whose room is this?” She gazed at the dark blue room with Aztec frosting-white crown molding. “Is this a man’s bedroom? How drunk was I?”

Her fingers pulled at the boa-constricting fabric. “Oh dear lord I’m nude.”

She fell out of bed and, somehow, involuntarily managed to take the covers with her, which luckily worked in her favor.

She tip-toed across the peculiarly neat bedroom. “Must be a gay man’s bedroom…. Oh, no, I slept with a gay man.”

A chest-lurching crack of pipes sounded down the hall. Running water noisily surged through the old Victorian home. She crouched and crawled the wood floors, nails anxiously clawing the boards, so that she could poke her head into the hallway undiscovered.

Steam rose beneath a door at the end of the corridor. The source of shower racket reverberated off newly painted walls. Plastic overlay floorboards, and a few packing boxes crowded the corners and entries of several rooms with wide-open-look-in-here doors.

She paced past a living room with several tall-backed comfy chairs wrapped in plastic and an overly… hairy rug of some sort. “Is that yak?” she thought.

The living room had an unblinded balcony with square window-walls and a dark mahogany spiral staircase, leading to the… first floor? She couldn’t remember anything about this house or its owner, and the lack of blinds uncomfortably exposed her to whomever may be looking through the windows.

With a deep breath and moment of silly hesitation, she begrudgingly opened the bathroom door. A rush of steam slapped her in the face.

“Hey! Good morning!” said an excited, unfamiliar voice.

Ellie stood dumbstruck while her bursa escort eyes adjusted to the smog. She could hear a glass shower-door creak open and soft pattering footsteps. Gentle, wet, feminine lips licked and massaged her own. “Good morning,” they whispered into her ear. She shivered as tip of tongue and frame of mouth prodded and teased her neck. Long, thin fingers slowly freed Ellie from the ravel of dark-blue bedsheets, and a warm, welcoming body crept closer to her own.

Awed, Ellie’s hands caught the base of the woman’s hips and traced the cradle of her ribcage. They braved the overwhelming, blood-rush, dizzying steam and dove into an electrifying hug. Ellie fish-flopped to the floor. Sparks and dots flew before her eyes.

“Ellie! Are you okay?”

A whip of familiar blonde hair smacked Ellie’s face.

“Shannon?!”

“Yeah, whom else did you expect?” Shannon said a bit miffed.

Ellie launched her face into Shannon’s mask of surprise. Tongues passionately tangled. They clung to each other as if luging for Olympic Gold.

The bathroom door opened. Light and fog outlined an illegible silhouette.

“Who’s that?” Ellie asked.

“Lauren. You remember Lauren right? If not, I’m sure she can remind you.” A wicked grin crossed Shannon’s lips as she tugged Ellie’s jaw for an addictive nip and nibble.

“Let’s take a shower,” Shannon coaxed; although, Ellie didn’t need much bribing.

Watching to see what Lauren looked like, Ellie realized she did know her, at least from Shannon’s photo albums of archery, camping and racing. Shannon’s blonde hair contrasted so beautifully with Lauren’s red, Ellie would gawk over the photos while Shannon was in the restroom…. This must be Lauren’s house.

Crooning, Shannon and Lauren herded Ellie to the shower, an astounding glass room with a drain in the middle. The shower was lighted so that Ellie escort bursa could finally see. Which was unnerving in terms of self-awareness and seeing EVERYTHING reflected in the glass walls. But Ellie didn’t have time to be self-conscious. Lauren’s hands clasped their mouths together; and, Shannon dropped to anal-tongue penetration, erupting a series of chirp-chortling gurgles from Ellie’s throat. The resulting onslaught had Ellie face-down on the tiles with Shannon anally dilating her, while saying spiritedly-motivational phrases such as, “Squeeze tighter!”

The crunching orgasms were so “hallelujah high-pitched,” Lauren was forced to retreated to kissing Ellie’s neck. During the apocalypse of blissful eating and penetration, Lauren disappeared. When Shannon finished with a big grin on her face and Ellie had enough energy to look up, she noticed something… impossible to overlook.

“Is that a crossbow?” Ellie asked Lauren.

“It is a crossbow…. Well, was a crossbow. But see, I punctured this dildo with a metal rod and reinforced the action in the trigger. Then locked the release and replaced the spring with my secret.. mechanism, and fastened the crossbow to a leather-platinum strap-on holster.”

“So what does it do now?”

“It pumps the fuck out of you.”

“Does it ever stop?” Ellie asked, observing the steel was quite hunt-ready.

“Only when I release the trigger.”

“It’s completely safe.” Shannon said.

Then again Shannon’s idea of safe was a bit… overtaking.

However, Ellie had no complaints or resistance so long as her enervated body didn’t have to move. Which it didn’t.

Shannon sneakily slid under Ellie’s propped body, serving as both a cushion against the tile and restraint to hold Ellie’s tired hips in place. The two soothingly caressed, kissed and spread Ellie into REM-like submission.

And then it happened. bursa escort bayan ARMAGEDDON. Battle weapon met orgasmic plunger in such a way that the Big Bang occurred in-reverse and then fast-forward in slow-motion as a result of Ellie’s orgasm. The vibrating buzz of the “arrow”, turned dildo, relaxed the entry of Ellie’s anus to such a miracle that she felt no pain. There was no resisting total takedown, especially when it felt as if she’d been gassed with sleeping gas and massaged, full-body, in an emergency space pod soaring through intergalactic time-warps. The domino orgasms could not be counted.

Lauren’s reaction was exhilarating as she felt the vibrations of the beast on her clit. Ellie passed out. Lauren, lying on her back in exhaustion, felt the immense prowess of her partner, Shannon, leap onto her crossbow and take them for an unforgettable ride.

Waking after several minutes of impenetrable blackout, they lay motionless trying to speak. When words finally did arrive they were airy with throaty whistles.

“Wow. Thank you for coming home with us last night or this would never have happened!” Lauren said. Her chest heaved in delightful exhaustion.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember how the sex was last night, but if it was like this, I probably lost some brain cells in the blackout.” Ellie said, the moan and groan of disappointment echoed in her chest. She yearned desperately to remember every second of their erotic ventures.

“Oh, we didn’t sleep with you last night! You were drunk!” Shannon burst into laughter. “We took you home from a house party we’ve no idea how you got to. Just saw some guy hitting on you. Lauren lived close by. Thought it was safest to bring you here. You were really out of it. Peeled your clothes off as soon as you entered the house.”

“We sat on the couch all night chatting about how cute you are.” Lauren said.

“Didn’t think you’d hop in the shower with us.” Shannon turned hysterically red as Ellie’s jaw dropped.

“I’m glad I did.” Ellie said.

Shannon and Lauren giggled gratefully and pecked Ellie’s cheeks as a serendipitous smile commandeered her lips.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The difficulties of our task with the anti-trafficking agency preoccupied me.

Globalization had familiarized us all with the idea that world markets were a good thing in themselves. We got food and goods from across the globe, why not sex too? Most of us accepted the idea that sex work could empower women, which made it difficult to say that sex work per se was wrong, and easy for many to accept the idea that foreign women came to the UK and Europe in the same way as other workers, to better their lot. If you ever saw some of the women we dealt with, then you’d know that was crap, but of course, most people didn’t, and it was easy to doubt some of the lurid details.

But just as I was labouring these points with my wife, Sarah, Emm piped up.

‘Oh Pix, you over- think stuff. Some girls, like me, love sex and submission, leave us alone, and concentrate on the ones the bastards exploit!’

It was hard to disagree with Emm, whose fund of common sense was massive. But it remained the case that the context was a difficult one. If money was king, if morality was relative, and if there was no sense of shared values, then we were reduced to relying on the letter of the Law, which was not always adequate given the scale of the offences. My view was that we would be better employed going after those who originated the problem rather than the low-level operatives it was easier to arrest. They were two a penny, and no sooner had we locked one up than another two replaced them.

That was how we had ended up in a penthouse suite in a hotel close to Tower Bridge. The Bayswater business had been followed up with a series of initiatives organised by Ekaterina, Emm’s Russian Oligarch Mistress, which had put us on the map as her agents, and resulted in an invitation to a summit meeting. Emm expressed surprise at the number of women involved in trafficking at a high level when most of the operatives we had dealt with were male.

‘Well, while I am all in favour of women outpacing men, I could,’ I said, ‘want a better area in which that was true.’

Of course, as I explained, heterosexual women were far less likely than men to be distracted by the goods on offer, which gave us some sort of edge.

‘I like edging,’ Emm said, her mind, as usual, going straight to her main preoccupation in life … the satisfaction of her libido.

She had not heard from her new lover, Aly, in more than a week, and as she had agreed to forego orgasms until they met again, Emm was certainly conscious of edges. No table was safe in her company.

‘It’s bursa escort not funny Pix,’ she protested, ‘I need to cum a lot, I am used to three or four times a day, and I have not cum for ten days, twenty hours and fifteen minutes. It isn’t right, I demand my rights.’

I had to explain to the darling girl that orgasms were not covered by the UN Charter on Human Rights.

‘I’m confused, Pix,’ she said, ‘we work for the UN, and it is my right to continual orgasms, so why is it not in their Charter. How do we get it inserted? Oh, Pix, I need something inserting, my asshole will close up at this rate, and what will Ekaterina say?’

‘Darling,’ I smiled, ‘have you told Ekaterina about Aly yet?’

‘I will, I will, but until she replies to my 400 emails and 300 texts, I can’t be sure.’

I tried arguing that one could take a lack of response to that level of activity as an indication of her state of interest, but apophatic arguments puzzled Emm, as, indeed, did the idea that she did not have the right to an orgasm whenever she wanted one. To my pointing out that there was nothing to stop her bringing herself off, she said:

‘That’s disgusting, Pix, that’s for saddos like you before you got lucky with Sarah. I have a responsibility to help as many women as possible bring me to orgasm as often as possible; it is their right.’

As always with the dear girl, there was no arguing with a logic so impeccably, and implacably, pursued. Within Emm’s thought world it all made sense. She was dimly conscious that others did not agree, but being generous, put it down to their inferior intellectual equipment, and the inadequacies of their wardrobe and/or breast size.

The meeting room had a good view of Tower Bridge, and the Chair called us to order.

‘Now, we’re here to talk about the threat posed to our operations by this new UN task force, AUNTIE. This Agency is actively trying to disrupt our market activities and we need to take it out. Ah, but first,’ said the brittle, bottle blonde in the black business suit, ‘ let’s introduce ourselves.’

Nice to see, I thought, that good meeting etiquette was maintained among crooks.

Emm and I introduced ourselves as representing Ekaterina, which, given the scale of her operations and her wealth, conferred on us instant kudos. It was the size of Emm’s tits and the colour of her hair which conferred on her a degree of interest from Miss Sinn, the Greek representative at the meeting.

In days gone by, I confess I’d have been rather interested in the bursa escort bayan aptly named Miss Sinn myself. She oozed class – and sex. Her Versace suit was exquisitely tailored to her figure – and what a figure.

She was one of the few people I’d seen who could give Emm a run for her money. Admittedly, Miss Sinn’s blondeness came from a bottle and not from poppa (like Emm), and her tits seemed almost too perfect (although as we were to discover, they were all her own). She favoured cruel-heeled shoes, but she was drop-dead gorgeous and, to judge by the way she looked at Emm, an exception to the rule about these women being straight.

It was, I reflected, gratifying that the Agency had its intended targets worried enough to be the subject of a special meeting, but it clearly created the probability that its agents would be targeted; and that, as an alarmed Emm squeaked later: ‘that’s us!’ But as I pointed out at the debrief back at Headquarters, we at least knew we had them worried and had an inside track to their tactics.

As we mingled afterwards, Miss Sinn made a (queen)beeline to Emm.

‘Hi,’ she said, with an American accent, ‘I’m Angie, Sinn by name and Sin by nature. And you, you gorgeous piece of blonde ass, why have you brought your daughter to work?’

Emm giggled.

‘I’m Emm, and I like your tits, and think your shoes are ace, and oh yes, this is Pix, she is my assistant, aren’t you, tiny tits?’

Emm liked her little joke, and to be fair, the first thousand times I had heard it, it had been mildly something or other; now it was just water off the proverbial duck’s back.

‘You a lez too, tiny?’

Four foot ten is not a height that merits the phrase about pulling oneself up to one’s full height, but if it were, I would have, if that makes sense.

‘Yes, as it happens.’

‘Good, I may need a spare girl if Emm runs out of juice, and tiny tits woild make a change.’

‘Well, Miss Sinn, you don’t know Emm if you think that’s a possibility, but I am happy to tag along,’ I replied.

Back at her suite, she was no sooner through the door than she grabbed Emm, pulled her to her, squeezing her ass, and kissed her passionately. Emm responded in kind.

Reflecting that this was going to be interesting and that I was unlikely to be needed, I settled myself down and poured a Gin and Tonic.

Angie had Emm down to her underwear in what I would have called record time – except for the fact that Angie was already in that state, and braless bursa merkez escort with it.

Angie gripped Emm’s cunt, a low blow which was assured of success, but Emm kept it together sufficiently to bite on Angie’s nipples, which, to judge by the latter’s response, was the right approach. They fell, together on the bed, the last of their underwear vanishing in the process.

If I’d have filmed it, I’d have had a lesbian classic on my hands.

I had taken Angie for a domme, and she had taken Emm for a submissive, but Emm was competitive, and her pride had been stung with that comment about running out of juice. It was, no doubt for that reason that she was eating Angie’s cunt as though determined to suck it dry.

Angie was flung back on the bed, her glorious breasts on show, her dark pink nipples stiff and demanding the attention they were getting from Emm’s fingers, which were pulling on them as though intent on milking her. She sucked noisily at Angie’s beautiful bald cunt. Until the tit massage, Angie had held her own, or to be accurate, Emm’s own, but the speed and skill of Emm’s assault persuaded her to lie back and enjoy it.

If sex were an Olympic competition, this would have been the final with the gold medalists from the last two finals. But it was clear that Emm had the advantage now. Her fingers were in Angie’s cunt – I could hear the squelching – and moving furiously. Angie’s legs were over Emm’s shoulders, which was allowing the latter to tongue her rosebud. Some primal instinct prompted Emm to smack Angie’s ass. That did it.

‘Yes, fuck, yes, I want it, I am a fucking dirty bitch, hurt me!’

Always obedient, Emm obliged, slapping her gorgeous ass. The more she did it, and the faster her finger moved, the more noise Angie made. Her orgasm, when it came, was fast, overwhelming and wet. Emm was the only woman I knew who actually squirted; I now knew another. As she gushed, Emm lapped her nectar, not letting up on the spanking. That made Angie have at least two more orgasms. There was no sign of her running out of juice.

She swiftly slid down the bed, positioning herself under Emm’s cunt, and ate her as though cunt was going out of fashion. She lapped at Emm’s inner lips, furiously thrusting three fingers in her wet cunt, which made Emm fall forward, her big tits thrust towards me. She looked glorious. As Angie assaulted her rosebud, Emm lost it – squirting and pissing on Angie’s face.

Nothing deterred, Angie obliged as Emm had, by continuing the assault.

As they used to say in the newspaper, I made my excuses and left. It was clear that the marathon would endure for hours. Indeed, as Emm texted me at six the following morning.

‘Still at it, but the UK is in the lead!’

I had no idea she was that patriotic. I turned over and kissed Sarah. But that is another story.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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I was bored. Usually, when I was away helping organise an event, at least one other member of the team would be with me, often Seb, who was gayer than the Gay Gordons. But he passed muster for a male companion in the hotel, which kept predatory men at bay. I was lesbian through and through, but that never stopped men thinking I was in need of their company. Short of wearing a tee-shirt saying “I am a lesbian,” it was hard to know what to do about it. But Seb was ill, and here I was on my own.

The people at the venue had been fab, and the first night had been almost a sell-out. The Ensemble were well-known, getting air-time on “Classic FM” as well as Radio 3, and however much the music snob in me hated the cheesy style of the former, there was no denying that exposure there got bums on seats. In the end, that was what kept me in rare vinyl recordings of Kathleen Ferrier (I know, but everyone to their choice).

But here I was, alone. The one good thing was that there appeared to be no stray men in the lounge, as I waited to be called for supper. The waiter came, said my table was ready and led me to it. The restaurant was empty. I sat and looked at the menu.

Then she came in. As I am, shall we say, petite (four foot ten inches, 30-20-22), the first thing I usually notice escort bayan about a woman is her height. She was about five foot seven, blonde hair, pale white skin, and her low cut dress showed that, unlike me, she had a bosom. Okay, I admitted to myself, boredom was, at least for now, banished by curiosity.

Like many lesbians, my gaydar was quite well-developed. Despite all the advances made by gay women, it was still nowhere as easy to pick up a female lover as it was a male one. The sexy blonde who had just piqued my interest was not, I guessed, wholly gay, but the way she caught my eye and smiled, suggested she might not be averse to more than a chat. I thought I might as well try it.

‘Hi, there, care to join me? It will protect us both from the ravening horde of men about to descend on this place.’ I smiled.

‘Really,’ she smiled, ‘well I am sure my partner would much rather I spent the evening with a ravishing woman than ravening men.’

‘Where is this ravishing woman?’ I asked, blushing.

‘Oh, I dare say she will turn up, but until then, you will have to do.’ She laughed. I blushed even more.

She sat opposite. I handed her the menu.

‘I’m Pixie, nice to meet you.’

‘How suitable. ‘I’m Emily,’ she replied, her smile setting görükle escort my heart fluttering. I could not help hoping.

‘What brings you to this forsaken spot?’ It was a natural question, the place was famous for its music.

I hoped that, if she had come for the concert, we might have a topic of conversation.

‘Oh, I’m here to listen to the Hilliard, but thought I’d come a day early and catch the rehearsals, if they let one in.’

‘I can ensure they do, I’m one of the organisers.’

‘That would be extremely kind of you.’

As she smiled, I thought it was more than worth it, just to see that. I was conscious of the urge to please her. That was usually a sign; occasionally, even a good one.

The waiter asked if we wanted anything to drink.

‘The least I can do is to buy us something nice – would you like a kir royale?’ Again, the dazzling smile.

‘I’d love one.’ It was my turn to smile.

The deep purple fizz tasted as wonderful as it looked.

‘Bottoms up,’ I said.

‘Yours or mine?’ She laughed.

I blushed. It was a bad habit, which seemed to be growing on me with Emily.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly, ‘my tongue runs away with me.’ She smiled, slowly, lustfully. I was bursa elit escort being seduced.

‘I blush easily,’ I said, soothingly. ‘And the idea did catch my fancy.’

‘I might like to catch that, too.’ She winked.

The waiter interrupted. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or cross. As they were in season I could not resist ordering the oysters to start, followed by the scallops with bacon. Emily ordered the pea soup and the steak – rare.

‘Is it true?’ she quizzed me.

‘Is what true, Emily?’

‘Oysters, libido?’ Again, the wink and the slow smile. She was bloody well flirting with me; why was I so slow to pick up the signals? Useless, no wonder I was still single.

‘Hard to tell,’ I teased back, ‘I’m a horny little thing at the best of times.’

‘Yes,’ she smiled, ‘it was the first thing I noticed about you.’

‘What? The horniness?’ I teased.

‘No, your petite form. Are you even five foot?’

Indignantly, I protested that I was nearly five foot, but it sounded silly as soon as the words left my mouth.

‘It’s fine, I love your size, it appeals to me.’

‘It does?’ I gulped. ‘Most people don’t seem to find the flat-chested midget look appealing. They want curvy girls’

She reached out, touched my hand.

‘Don’t look so worried, little Pixie, you are gorgeous. I can’t wait to fuck you after dinner. We can test that oyster thing.’ So saying, she gripped my hand, and looked into my eyes.

‘You do want to be my Pixie, don’t you?’

Suddenly, I wanted it more than anything.

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