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Message-ID: <27828asstr$976489806@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Katherine T." <katherinet_@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Lovers (lesbian, FF) (Katherine T.)
Date: Sun, 10 Dec 2000 18:10:06 -0500
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Lovers (lesbian) (Katherine T.)

The following entertainment is for adults only, and anyone not
an adult is hereby warned to go away.

All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated.
Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com

A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T. can be found at
the following URL: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Katherine_T

Author's note: I wrote this story some years ago under another
title and another pseudonym. Frankie's lesbian politics are a bit
antiquated, but politics is politics, and since not all people
evolve politically at the same rate, the story is probably still
relevant. This is a story of a particular troubled lesbian
relationship, and like any story of a relationship, it may not be
descriptive of other relationships. I've made some minor changes
and I'm now posting this new version for the first time.



                             Lovers

                         by Katherine T.

                What you see is not what is there.
                What is there is something else.
                                        -- Unknown


                        Part One. Valerie

     Frankie is in one of her preoccupied moods. Valerie
concludes that as she lies with her head in Frankie's lap as
Frankie studies some papers brought home in her briefcase. It's
ten o'clock in the evening and the TV tube is now showing the
evening news with the sound off. Valerie looks at the flashing
pictures on the tube and she amuses herself attempting to
discover what the people are saying. Of course it makes no
difference whether you have the sound on or off, whatever the
people are saying is ridiculous anyway. With a sigh, Valerie
slips her hand into Frankie's lap. Her fingertips tease the seam
of Frankie's jeans. But nothing happens. She might as well be
touching a stone statue for all the response she gets. Frankie's
mind seems totally occupied with her paperwork, no evidence at
all that Frankie is aware of Valerie's hand. No evidence before
the bar, Valerie thinks. She feels both amusement and annoyance.
Frankie is an attorney and she's always serious about her
vocation. She's a tall studious looking woman with a distinctive
dyke haircut and wire-rimmed eyeglasses. Despite her serious
appearance, Frankie's fine-boned face gives her a special beauty
and Valerie adores her. Frankie has clear ivory skin and nipples
like hard raspberries. Valerie adores serious women with fine
faces and steady eyes. They've been lovers for two years and
living together almost since the beginning. Valerie continues
tickling the seam of Frankie's jeans, but Frankie remains
apparently oblivious to it. Is the romance over? The idea
the romance could be over frightens Valerie. She's twenty-five, a
brunette with a pouting mouth she likes to paint a bright red, a
slender but curvy body that drives the butches wild. She knows
all about it. She can see the look in their eyes in the bars when
they give her the once-over, that hungry dyke look that always
makes her shiver. A lover once told her what it is. The contrast.
A slender femme with full breasts can make certain butches crazy.
But Valerie thinks it has to be more than that because she has
known women who were wild over her ass. Anyway, it's nice to be
pretty and have a good body. She likes the attention. But of
course it isn't the most important thing in the world. What is
really important is a permanent relationship, a home, mutual
giving. What is really important is peace of mind. The trouble is
that even after living with Frankie two years not a day passes
when Valerie isn't needy, as needy as a bitch in heat, pussy-
dripping needy. If not every day, then every other day. Without
fail. She expected Frankie to take care of that part of her life.
Frankie takes care of her financially, but that isn't enough for
Valerie. It's fine that Frankie earns enough in her law practice
to give them an easy life, but Valerie thinks Frankie ought to
have more consideration for the physical side. Is that asking for
too much? Isn't it ridiculous to be lying here tickling Frankie's
crotch without any response from Frankie? Valerie watches the
images on the television tube. A woman in a red bandanna now has
her mouth going, talking without stopping, saying nothing about
who knows what. All I want is affection, Valerie thinks. No, it's
more than that. If all she wants is affection she'll buy a toy
poodle. What she wants is good sex, the same marvelous hot sex
she knows other women have. She wants Frankie to make her shake
and moan until her bones are rattled. How can a woman have peace
of mind without sexual fulfillment? No, it isn't possible. When
she's like this she's always so incredibly restless, no peace of
mind at all. No peace of mind, Valerie thinks. With Frankie these
days she never has it. She tries, though. She has no problem with
Frankie when Frankie is interested. The problem is it never
happens often enough, at least not enough to keep the demons out
of Valerie's mind and her pussy happy. Frankie cares a great deal
about her law practice, but she seems to care very little about
the needy state of Valerie's poor little muffin. Twice a week on
Wednesdays and Saturdays is just not enough to keep Valerie
happy, to give her that look of happiness and completion that she
sees on the faces of some of her friends. She thinks Frankie
ought to take care of her needs. This way it's like some dead het
marriage. Dead dyke marriage like a dead het marriage. Serves you
right, Valerie thinks, serves you right for settling down. She
ought to be out there getting worked over by a different woman
every night. She ought to be bouncing on beds with sweat on her
forehead.
     She tickles Frankie's crotch again, determined to get
Frankie interested in something beside her paperwork. She can
feel the bulge of Frankie's sex right through the fabric of
Frankie's jeans. But no heat in there. She's had enough
experience with Frankie to know from the feel of her crotch what
state Frankie is in. At the moment, Frankie is far away
somewhere, much too far away to be interested in anything sexual.
Valerie tells herself maybe she ought to wait for another time,
when suddenly Frankie moves the papers away from her face and she
looks down at Valerie's hand.
     "What's going on?" Frankie says. "Is today Wednesday?"
     Valerie groans. "It's Tuesday. It's been Tuesday all day.
You don't mind if I just lie here, do you? If it bothers you I'll
stop." And then Valerie adds with a sarcastic smirk: "I wouldn't
want to interfere with your work."
     In a calm voice, Frankie says: "It's my work that supports
us."
     In a moment Frankie returns the papers to the front of her
face. Valerie now assumes she has permission to continue
doing what she's been doing, but she feels foolish about it. Here
she is making a blatant effort to get Frankie interested in her,
and all Frankie cares about is her damn paperwork. Determined not
to give up, Valerie now rolls over to face Frankie's crotch.
     Frankie groans. "Val, honey..."
     "Just keep doing what you're doing. Pay no attention to me."
     "That's hardly possible."
     "Try it."
     Valerie pulls at the zipper of Frankie's fly. The jeans are
tight, but not tight enough to prevent her fingers from getting
in there. She feels the crinkly bush through the panties, and
then she strokes further down to the soft folds of Frankie's
cunt.
     Valerie says: "Let me get the jeans off."
     And Frankie rustles her papers and groans again. "Oh, Val."
     "Frankie, please..."
     Valerie hates begging Frankie like this, but there seems to
be no alternative. She rolls off the sofa to get Frankie's jeans
off her legs, and then she stretches out again with her head in
Frankie's lap and her excitement more intense than ever as she
faces Frankie's panty-covered crotch.
     In the beginning, when they first started living together,
most of the sex involved Valerie remaining passive while Frankie
took the lead in starting things and carrying things through and
finishing things. In the beginning Frankie seemed to have only
one objective in her mind and that was to make certain Valerie
had the most pleasure possible out of every sexual encounter
between them. Valerie isn't certain precisely when things
changed, but after they were together a year she knew the sexual
part of their relationship was no longer the same. Gradually it
was no longer Frankie who initiated sex, it was Valerie, until
finally one day Frankie said she needed her time to be more
predictable so maybe they ought to agree to Wednesday and
Saturday nights. "We'll make Wednesday and Saturday nights just
for us," Frankie said, which appealed to Valerie because at least
she'd have those two nights with Frankie without Frankie ever
complaining. The trouble was just two nights were not enough for
Valerie, and before long she realized it and the two nights a
week supposedly only for them became an agony for her whenever
she wanted sex and it was neither Wednesday nor Saturday. It
wasn't that Frankie was that rigid about the calendar, she
wasn't, but it was always up to Valerie to make the move and take
the chance that Frankie will reject her and leave her depressed,
or even worse they'd have an argument about something trivial to
hide the incongruence of their sexual attitudes.
     Valerie now carefully tugs the crotch of Frankie's panties
aside to expose the full lips of Frankie's cunt. Not much hair on
the lips. More of it on the mound. Frankie has her papers in
front of her face again, and Valerie has no idea what Frankie's
response might be. She's afraid Frankie might stop her, but
instead Frankie merely squirms a bit on the cushion without
closing her thighs. Valerie tells herself thank god, maybe
something will happen after all.
     She has always adored Frankie's cunt. Frankie's clitoris is
a luscious little knob just visible at the apex of the outer
lips. Valerie thinks maybe later, when Frankie is aroused enough,
she'll suck it, lick it with the flat of her tongue like an ice
cream cone, then give it a tongue-whipping. But at the moment she
intends to excite Frankie with her fingers first because Frankie
has strange inhibitions about cunnilingus. Frankie likes doing it
to Valerie, but whenever Valerie does it to Frankie, Frankie
seems embarrassed. Which Valerie thinks is so sad. Next to being
totally possessed by a woman's fingers and mouth, what Valerie
likes most is licking and sucking a lover's cunt. How sad it is
that Frankie has problems with it.
     Using the tips of her fingers, Valerie carefully strokes the
folds of Frankie's cunt until the outer lips part to reveal more
of the inside. Hardly any wetness. Just a hint of moisture lower
down where the vaginal opening gapes slightly because Frankie
once had a child that died in infancy. Something never discussed.
Never mentioned. But always in the mind of Valerie whenever she
looks closely at Frankie's vagina. She looks at the opening and
she thinks how wondrous it is that a child came out of there.
Miracles.
     Valerie has an urge to suck Frankie now. Or at least to lick
her everywhere. Make her moan. It might work, but Frankie might
also get angry. Valerie wonders why in hell she ever agreed to
live with a woman, to marry a woman whose interest in sex is less
than her own.
     No, not yet, she thinks. She won't give up the ghost yet.
She tugs the crotch of Frankie's panties back into place and she
rises from Frankie's lap. "I'll be right back," Valerie says.
     Frankie rustles her papers and mumbles something, as if she
assumes Valerie is merely off to the bathroom.
     But Valerie has something else in mind. When she reaches the
bedroom it isn't the adjoining bathroom she wants but one of the
drawers in the large bureau they share. Frankie has half the
drawers, Valerie has the others. From one of her own drawers,
Valerie pulls out a black lace garter belt and a pair of sheer
charcoal stockings. Skimpy feminine lace and nylon. Never mind
the politics, Valerie doesn't give a damn about lesbian politics.
She believes nothing can be wrong with doing something if it
turns her on or turns on her lover. Never mind the pompous dykes
who think they know what every woman needs. She has enticed
Frankie with these items often enough to know they can work. That
was especially true in the beginning of their romance when
Frankie was less constrained about playing games during sex, less
inhibited about Valerie dressing up to excite them both with the
accoutrements of feminine availability. These days Frankie is
more political and she often seems embarrassed by the feminine
trappings, as if she indeed thinks sexy lingerie is out of place
in a true lesbian relationship. A notion that Valerie thinks
ridiculous. Who the hell can identify a true lesbian
relationship? But she never debates with Frankie because Frankie
after all is a lawyer. Only idiots debate with lawyers.
     Valerie hopes the frills might work tonight. She quickly
strips her clothes off and she studies herself in the full-length
mirror attached to the bathroom door. Still attractive, isn't
she? Still young enough to look good from any angle. Five-eight
is a good height. As long as she keeps her weight down her body
looks slender and trim. She runs her fingers over the undersides
of her full breasts. Watching herself in the mirror. Jiggling the
firm globes and smiling at the way the tips vibrate. Unable to
resist the urge to use her mouth, she raises her right breast
with her hand and she swabs her tongue over the long nipple,
wetting it down, then taking the nipple between her teeth to suck
on it briefly. god, she needs something tonight! She runs her
hands over her hips and back to the firm flesh of her buttocks.
She tells herself Frankie is a fool not to appreciate her more.
There are women out there who would do plenty. She slides her
fingers into the curls of the dark muff beneath her belly. Her
pubic triangle is thick enough to completely hide her labia. She
remembers a woman she knew who shaved everything, the lips clean
and silky and exposed. On occasion Valerie trims some of the hair
away to show more of herself, but she's a brunette and she doubts
her dark lips would look better without hair. Still, it might be
worth trying sometime just to amuse herself. Maybe shock Frankie
who isn't that experienced. Would Frankie be shocked? As far as
Valerie knows, she's Frankie's first serious lover. But Frankie
hardly ever talks about the other women she has known.
     Now Valerie touches herself again, aware of her wet pussy,
the juice trickling between her thighs, the fountain flowing the
way it always does when she's this turned on. But she resists the
urge to stroke herself. She turns to the garter belt and
stockings, sits down on the edge of the bed and starts pulling on
the stockings. Making her legs sleek. And exciting herself doing
it. By the time she finishes hooking the stockings to the garter
belt her pussy is wetter than ever. She brings a pair of heels
out of the closet, sexy red pumps she hasn't worn in ages. She
slips her feet into them, looks at her legs in the sheer charcoal
stockings, her sleek legs, then searches the closet again to find
the black neglig,e Frankie bought her shortly after they became
lovers. Valerie remembers now how embarrassed Frankie seemed
giving her the neglig,e, Frankie blushing when Valerie pulled the
fluffy thing out of the box and squealed with joy that she loved
neglig,es. Happy she could wear one and look good in it. Now
slipping into the black neglig,e. She ties the front bow and then
she does a whirl in front of the full length mirror to see the
effect. After that she puts some fresh lipstick on her lips,
bright red, not too much because Frankie never likes her to
overdo it. Valerie tells herself she'll cry if this doesn't work.
She will truly cry if this fails to get Frankie interested.
     High heels clicking on the parquet floor, Valerie walks into
the living room aware of how she looks, the red heels, the
stockings, her dark nipples and dark bush revealed by the sheer
neglig,e. Frankie glances up from the papers in her hands, her
eyes showing immediately surprise.
     "Good god, Val."
     "Just an urge to dress up," Valerie says. "You don't mind,
do you? I thought you might like it." She does a turn that sends
the neglig,e swirling around her nylon-clad legs. "Do you like my
legs?"
     "You know I like your legs." Frankie's eyes take in the legs
and the high heels and the neglig,e and she seems flustered. "You
look fabulous, but I do need to read these briefs. And it's not
Wednesday, you know."
     "I won't bother you, Frankie, I promise."
     "Honey, I can't work while you're parading around like that.
Just give me an hour, okay? I'll see you in an hour in the
bedroom."
     Crushed, Valerie turns and walks back to the bedroom and
shuts the door. What I need is a lover, she thinks, someone
outside the relationship she has with Frankie, someone outside
her marriage to Frankie. Her crumbling marriage. Because that's
what it is, isn't it? A crumbling marriage. She loves Frankie and
she can't imagine not living with her, but she just can't go on
like this. She never imagined she'd ever want any woman but
Frankie, but getting a lover seems the only way to keep her
sanity.
     Now she slips the neglig,e off and she studies herself in
the long mirror again, looks at herself wearing the garter belt
and nylons, at the erotic image of her dark bush framed by black
lace. Pathetic, isn't she? A whimper of frustration comes out of
her throat as she realizes how aroused she is. She cups her
buttocks with her hands, squeezing and pinching the firm globes.
Then she moves both hands around to the front and she pinches her
cunt with her fingers. She moans softly as she feels how wet she
is. She starts gyrating her hips in front of the mirror, her eyes
fixed on her hairy sex. Ever so slowly, she pulls her thick labia
open with her fingers to reveal the quivering bud of her clit. Oh
god, look at it, look how swollen it is. One touch and she'll
come immediately. Instead, she moves her hands away, her palms
sliding over her body to keep the tension rising. Thank god she
knows how to pleasure herself when she needs it. She'd surely go
crazy without it. Just her vag, she thinks. If she keeps her
fingers away from her clit, she can play with her cunt and delay
things as long as she wants. She always needs something in there.
She slips her fingers down, probes around the vaginal entrance,
stretches it a bit, then pushes her fingers inside and jerks her
pelvis forward because it feels so good.
     She moans. She uses her left hand to lift her right breast.
Watching herself in the mirror, she lowers her head and licks the
nipple until it gleams with her saliva. Both nipples are stiff
and swollen. She quivers as her eyes take in the way the black
straps of her garter belt frame her bush. Her long legs look so
sleek and lovely in the sheer charcoal stockings, her calves
exquisitely flexed by the four-inch heels of the red pumps. After
turning sideways, she looks over her shoulder at the shape of her
ass, then cups a hand over one buttock and jiggles it. Will she
ever be able to find a lover who can give her body the attention
it deserves?
     Now she leaves the mirror and she falls across the bed on
her back with her thighs wide open. With a soft moan she slides
her hands down over her body to the steaming flower of her cunt.
She gasps and jerks, her hips arching upward as she closes her
right hand over the hot mound of her pussy and slowly massages
the dripping lips. How she loves the feel of her wetness beneath
her fingers! Her cunt is loose and quivering now, ready to be
loved and cuddled and provided with ecstasies. She spreads her
throbbing labia and dips her fingers inside her vaginal opening.
She groans as a delicious hot spasm washes over her body.
Stretching the mouth of her cunt with a screwing motion of her
fingers, she gradually slips her fingers deeper and deeper inside
her canal. She can feel the muscles in there grabbing at her
fingers. Her eyes closed, her mouth open, she spreads her
quivering thighs wide apart as she imagines she has a lover
between her legs, a woman with a hard body and a long tongue, a
tongue long enough and thick enough to fill her completely, and a
tongue strong enough to lap her clit as long as she needs it.
Valerie shudders as she starts stabbing her fingers in and out,
twisting them enough to stretch the tissues around her clit and
bring her closer and closer to an intense orgasm. Waves of
pleasure engulf her senses. She bucks her hips, fucking back at
her pumping hand, her fingers making a wet sound each time they
plunge inward.
     Suddenly the bedroom door opens, Frankie steps into the room
and then freezes as she takes in the scene.
     Valerie cries out, jerks her hand away from her crotch and
rolls over on her belly with a groan. "Frankie, why don't you
knock?"
     Frankie's voice has an icy calm. "It's my bedroom too, Val."
     Valerie sighs into the pillow. "Yes, I guess so. I guess
it's my fault."
     Silence.
     Frankie says nothing, but Valerie can feel Frankie's eyes
staring at her. Then Valerie hears Frankie pass the bed, and the
next moment she hears Frankie walk into the bathroom and close
the door.
     Valerie lies there listening, her heart beating wildly,
wondering what will happen now. She knows how much Frankie hates
the idea of secret masturbation. Never in secret, Frankie told
her. If we need that, we ought to be able to help each other.
Valerie hears the sound of the toilet flushing. Then a few
moments later she hears Frankie brushing her teeth.
     The bathroom door opens and Frankie says: "Val?"
     "Yes?"
     "Let's wait until tomorrow, okay? I'm just too tired this
evening, too preoccupied with some things at the office. You
don't mind, do you, honey? Tomorrow's Wednesday and we'll have a
lovely time together."
     A cold chill passes up Valerie's spine. "Sure, Frankie,
whatever you want."
     When Frankie closes the bathroom door again, Valerie rolls
over on her back and she moves a hand down to her cunt. She has
to finish what she started now. Frankie as much as told her to do
that. Valerie quickly slips her fingers inside her vagina and she
begins fucking herself. The orgasm arrives within moments, her
juices drenching her pumping hand as she continues jerking her
wrist.
     I can't go on, she thinks. She'll get a lover. No matter
what, she'll get a lover because she can't go on this way. Oh no.
     Rising at last, she wipes her hand on the bed sheet and she
begins unhooking the stockings to get ready for bed. By the time
Frankie comes out of the bathroom, Valerie is under the covers
with her back turned, her eyes closed. Valerie feels a great
relief when Frankie slides into bed and does no more than kiss
her shoulder before rolling away to sleep.
     The darkness is a refuge.



                          Two: Frankie

     Frankie notices the girl as soon as she enters the elevator.
The two of them are alone together, Frankie just returning from a
boring lunch with a pair of LaSalle Street attorneys, and now
here is this interesting girl riding up with her in the elevator.
Still a girl, really, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, a chunky
brunette with big breasts under a tight sweater, and a manner of
looking at Frankie that says they have something in common.
Recognition. Whenever it happens this way, unexpected, Frankie is
always thrilled because it means there are so many women out
there unknown to her who might be available. She does have
Valerie, but Valerie is domestic and this is foreign, an unknown
girl, and unknown girls are always exciting.
     Frankie starts the conversation, mentioning something about
the weather, and then about the building and the airconditioning
and how sometimes it's too warm in the office, all the while her
eyes taking in the girl's tight sweater, the big breasts,
wondering what the nipples are like. "Aren't you warm in that
sweater?"
     The girl gives her a wry smile. "No, it's not too heavy."
     But the breasts are heavy. Oh my yes. Frankie can tell the
girl is wearing a bra, full support for those lovely tits.
     They talk some more, Frankie learning the girl is visiting a
dentist on her floor, and as they step out of the elevator,
Frankie makes a joke about how awful it is to have a frozen
anesthetized mouth after a visit to the dentist.
     "Oh, I'm just having a cleaning," the girl says.
     "I'm due for one myself," Frankie says. "But I've been so
busy in court, there's no time."
     "You're a lawyer?" A look that says the girl is impressed.
     "That's right."
     They have now stopped in front of Frankie's office, the girl
hesitating a moment before she says: "Gee, I could use a lawyer,
I'm having so much trouble with my landlord."
     Frankie chuckles. "Well, here I am. But you've got that
dental appointment now, don't you? Maybe we could meet for a
drink later on."
     "Sure, I'd love that."
     "There's a place called Ricky's just around the corner. How
about four o'clock?"
     So easy. Before they say goodby, Frankie learns the girl is
a nurse and her name is Marcia. Which makes Frankie more excited
than ever, because the one thing she knows for certain is that
nurses can be hot.

                          *     *     *

     Ricky's is crowded, the usual late afternoon gaggle of
executive types pretending a fostering of business connections.
Frankie takes a seat at the long bar, orders a whiskey sour and
waits. Promptly at five minutes past four Marcia arrives and sits
down next to her with a smile. "Well, I'm here."
     Frankie asks her what she's drinking and then buys her a
daiquiri. "I haven't been in here in ages," Frankie says.
     Marcia chuckles and leans closer. "Listen, I just want to be
sure we're on the same track."
     "What track is that?"
     "Do you read Gay News?"
     "I do sometimes."
     "I'm just trying to make sure about you. Anyway, I'm living
with someone and I want you to know that."
     "So am I."
     Marcia laughs again and says her lover is out of town.
"She's in Los Angeles until next Tuesday."
     "And mine's right at home."
     Marcia raises her glass. "Well, here's to home sweet home."
     "And to us."
     "Sure, why not?"
     Frankie feels happy as she gazes at the front of Marcia's
sweater. "Do you mind if I say something dirty?"
     Marcia giggles. "Hurry up and tell me."
     "I'd like to get you in a corner and fuck you silly."
     Marcia flushes and giggles again. "Come on, there's no one
at my place, so why are we sitting here?"
     Why indeed? They kiss in the taxi, Marcia leaning against
Frankie to accept a tender kiss on her cheek, both afraid to do
more because the cab driver keeps talking about the traffic, the
government, the holes in the streets. When they finally arrive in
front of the building where Marcia lives, they hurry out of the
taxi and into the cluttered apartment. More kissing as soon as
the door is closed. Now Frankie can get a hand on Marcia's
breasts, feeling the curves, the weight of them. Marcia moans as
she sucks on Frankie's probing tongue. Frankie drops her hand
down to get it under Marcia's skirt, between her thighs and into
the wet crotch of her pantyhose. "Oh jesus I'm hot," Marcia says.
Frankie kisses Marcia and rubs Marcia's cunt through her
pantyhose at the same time, keeps rubbing until Marcia groans
against her mouth and comes. After that they kiss some more,
sweaty frenzied kissing in the hallway just inside the front door
of the apartment. Marcia has her turn with Frankie, her hand
sliding under Frankie's gray wool skirt to clutch at Frankie's
sex, to squeeze the lips and jerk her fingers against Frankie's
clit and coax her. "Come on, baby." And Frankie shudders, humping
her cunt at Marcia's hand, both of them awash with sweat and
juice and the frenzy of a new fuck.
     They finally disentangle themselves, but they walk into the
bedroom with their arms around each other's waists. Marcia
apologizes for the mess in the bedroom, the clothes and underwear
draped over the chairs and doorknobs. "I wasn't expecting
company. Don't look."
     "You're the only thing I'm looking at."
     Marcia gives her a coquettish glance as she starts
undressing. "I sure didn't think anything interesting would
happen to me today. Not on the way to the dentist, anyhow."
     Frankie has her jacket off, her fingers unbuttoning her
blouse as she watches Marcia pull her sweater over her head. And
there they are, Marcia's luscious breasts packed into that simple
white bra like a pair of melons waiting to be tasted. Marcia
knows her own assets, and in a moment she has the bra unhooked
and pulled away from her body to show herself.
     "That's better," Marcia says. She laughs as she holds her
big breasts with her hands. "I saw you looking at these in the
elevator when we first met. You were looking, weren't you?"
     "Yes, I was."
     "Eating up my tits with your eyes."
     Frankie has to have them, and she stops undressing and she
walks over to get her face between the two lovely breasts. She
takes one of the fat nipples in her mouth, sucking it, whipping
it with her tongue as Marcia groans with pleasure. Then Marcia
pulls Frankie's head up and they kiss again, Marcia's naked
breasts pushing against Frankie's blouse. They press against each
other, their breasts and bellies rubbing, Frankie's knee sliding
up between Marcia's thighs to massage her crotch.
     Marcia giggles. "Hey, let's get our clothes off while
there's a bed here."
     When they separate, Marcia quickly drops her skirt. As she
bends over to retrieve it, her breasts swing from side to side
like a pair of white honeydews. Now all she wears is the sheer
black pantyhose with a lace panty, her solid legs and thighs
gleaming through the nylon, a generous dark bush visible through
the lace in the crotch. With a coy look at Frankie, she walks
over to the dressing table, picks up a hairbrush and starts
brushing her hair.
     "You're slow," Marcia says.
     "I'm busy looking at you."
     "I could lose ten pounds, but every time I try I gain it
back."
     "Never mind, you're perfect."
     "You're not so bad yourself, but I wish I could see more."
     But instead of waiting for Frankie to undress, Marcia now
puts the hairbrush down and she peels her pantyhose off. Since
she has her back partly turned toward Frankie, it's her ass that
Frankie fixes her eyes on, Marcia's luscious full buttocks with a
cleft so deep Frankie has an urge to bury her face in it.
     Naked, Marcia climbs onto the bed and lies on her side
facing Frankie. Her rosy skin catches the light of the lamp on
the night table. She has a thick pubic bush, a mass of dark
curled hair at the joining of her thighs. As if to tease Frankie,
she keeps her legs closed to hide her cunt.
     Frankie finishes undressing while Marcia watches her with
bright eyes. All Frankie can think about is Marcia's breasts,
those lovely brown nipples. She hungers to have Marcia's breasts
in her mouth.
     When Frankie is naked, Marcia says: "You look great, like a
runner. Do you do any of that?"
     Frankie nods, proud of her athletic body. "I run when I can,
usually on weekends." She's happy Marcia likes her body.
Sometimes she thinks Valerie takes it for granted. Frankie is
convinced Valerie is a great narcissist, always loving her own
body more than someone else's.
     Now Frankie climbs onto the bed and she moves forward to
take Marcia in her arms. They kiss, their mouths fusing, their
tongues wagging against each other.
     Marcia moans. "I really like you."
     "And I like you too."
     "You know, sometimes you meet someone and it just doesn't
work. This is working, isn't it?"
     "Yes it is."
     They kiss again. Frankie slides a hand down to Marcia's cunt
to explore her thicket of pubic hair. Marcia opens her legs,
making herself available, her thick-lipped pussy dripping on
Frankie's probing fingers. A smell of woman-heat fills Frankie's
nostrils, making her mind whirl with excitement. She rubs her
open palm over Marcia's hairy cunt, thrilled by the wet feel of
it. Then she parts the lush lips and she slowly pushes two
fingers inside the opening, curling the fingers to rub against
the upper wall. Marcia groans as Frankie takes her, her elastic
canal gripping Frankie's fingers as Frankie begins a slow
stroking in and out of her vagina. When Frankie uses another
finger to tickle Marcia's anus, Marcia cries out and starts
coming immediately. "Oh god yes, do it!"
     Frankie's pleasure is to watch her come. Marcia's face
glistens with sweat. Her mouth hangs open, her eyes are closed.
As Frankie's fingers continue stroking in and out of her vagina,
Marcia makes whimpering sounds in her throat and sometimes bites
her lower lip. She begs for more, hunching at Frankie's hand.
Frankie makes her open her legs wide, and then she begins a hard
fucking with her fingers that makes Marcia cry out with pleasure.
Frankie delights in making Marcia come again and again. Her hand
wet with Marcia's juices, Frankie urges her on. "Don't stop,
sweet. Keep coming." Marcia tosses on the bed, her ass heaving,
her sopping cunt slamming against Frankie's invading fingers. At
the end she rolls over on her back with her knees in the air
while Frankie kneels in front of her as she drives her fingers in
and out like a battering ram.
     When Marcia comes down, she groans. "Oh god, you're good."
     Her fingers out of Marcia's vagina but still stroking her
thighs, Frankie chuckles. "No, it's not me, it's you." And then
she slides her fingers down further to touch the puckered ring of
Marcia's anus.
     Marcia smiles and pulls her knees up again. "You could be a
nurse. Nurses like to get their fingers everywhere."
     Frankie blushes and pulls her fingers away, but Marcia
laughs as she tugs Frankie's hand back to her ass. "No, go on, I
like it. I can come that way. But slide up a little so I can
touch you. Do it to me in both holes."
     Both holes. The words make Frankie quiver. She's always
inhibited by ass-play, but she finds it exciting because it's
nasty. She hardly ever does it with Valerie, even if sometimes
she thinks Valerie wants it. Some things you don't do with the
person closest to you. With Marcia there is no need to wonder if
she wants it, it's obvious she does. After lubricating her
fingers in Marcia's cunt, Frankie finds she can easily slide two
fingers inside Marcia's ass. The chunky brunette groans as she
takes the fingers, and then she wants something in her cunt and
Frankie uses her thumb there.
     "Oh, that's great," Marcia says with a gasp.
     "I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
     Marcia giggles. "Don't worry about that, I'm a nurse. I know
what I'm doing."
     Meanwhile Marcia has managed to get a hand between Frankie's
thighs and her fingers are now hooked inside Frankie's wet sex,
holding onto Frankie as Frankie starts fucking Marcia with her
hand. Frankie's excitement is intense. Marcia pushes her fingers
deep inside Frankie's cunt and groans as Frankie's fingers move
in both openings. Frankie loves getting dirty like this with a
new girl. The fact that Marcia is a nurse excites her. She keeps
her fingers moving slowly, driving her thumb inside Marcia's cunt
to the last knuckle each time she pushes her hand forward. Marcia
starts coming and it seems endless, her body shaking, the cries
coming out of her throat as Frankie keeps her hand moving. At the
end Frankie bends over to take one of Marcia's fat nipples in her
mouth. She sucks and bites the nipple, the biting making Marcia
come again.
     "Oh hell, don't stop," Marcia says, grabbing Frankie's wrist
as Frankie is about to pull her fingers out.
     Frankie is amused. "Are you sure?"
     "Just a little more."
     So Frankie gives Marcia what she wants, a little more in
both openings, at the same time humping her sex at Marcia's
hand. Marcia says she loves assfucking and she never gets enough
of it. Frankie's cunt is hot and dripping, her clit swollen. She
comes suddenly, jerking her pussy at Marcia's fingers, feeling
her juices running everywhere.
     They kiss after that, Marcia's ass gripping Frankie's
fingers as Frankie slowly pulls them out of both openings. Marcia
giggles and says Frankie is as good as her lover the way she does
her ass. Frankie is a bit embarrassed talking about it, but she
likes looking at Marcia's luscious ass when Marcia rolls over on
her belly.
     After that Frankie excuses herself and she goes to the
bathroom still excited by the sex, her hands trembling as she
washes them. She uses a towel to wipe her crotch and the insides
of her thighs, and then she studies her face in the mirror, her
flushed cheeks. She always looks good after sex. She thinks about
Marcia and Marcia's hot body, and then she thinks about getting
home to another dull evening with Valerie. Oh hell, Frankie
thinks.



                         THREE: VALERIE

     As Valerie expects, she and Frankie do make love Wednesday
evening. After dinner Frankie comes up behind her in the kitchen
and says: "Let's do something." She takes Valerie into the
bedroom, undresses her, makes her lie down on the bed and then
fucks her with her fingers. After the first orgasm, Frankie says:
"Are you all right?"
     "Come on top of me," Valerie says.
     And Frankie does that. She peels her jeans and underpants
off and she climbs into the saddle to fuck Valerie again, this
time with her cunt. Valerie likes it because she has the pleasure
of holding Frankie's buttocks in her hands while Frankie humps
and pummels her pussy. She comes again, crying out, her arms and
legs wrapped around Frankie as if to hold her and keep her from
leaving her.
     But Frankie is now exhausted and she says so as she pulls
away. "No more, honey, I'm drained."
     "Let me suck you."
     "No, I'm fine. What I really want now is a hot bath and some
wine. Will you get the wine for me?"
     Valerie brings Frankie the wine in her bath, and then
Valerie closes the bathroom door and leaves her alone. In the
kitchen, Valerie wonders if she ought to have some wine too. No,
she doesn't want wine, she wants a lover.

                          *     *     *

     She wants a lover, but she also wants no trouble with
Frankie. She's afraid to go to one of the bars because too many
people know about her and Frankie, know them as a couple, which
means too much of a risk that Frankie will learn about it. But
there seems no other way to meet anyone. She will not go to a
lesbian group because she never connects well with political
lesbians. No, there is no way except a bar. She decides to try it
first in the afternoon. She'll feel safer in daylight. If she
meets anyone she knows, she can pretend she's interested in
nothing more than getting out of the sun and cooling off with a
beer.
     And so a few days later Valerie goes to a place called
Augie's. It's mid-afternoon, but inside the bar it's dark and the
air cool and the music heavily erotic. Valerie is relieved when a
quick glance around the room reveals no one she knows, none of
Frankie's friends and none of her own. She sits alone at the bar,
and by the time she is on her second beer she feels more at ease
and happy she has finally decided to be adventurous.
     Someone finally approaches her, comes up behind her and
says: "Like some company?"
     The woman's voice is smooth and self-assured, and when
Valerie turns to look at her she likes her immediately. Valerie
noticed her before, a rangy looking butch with wide shoulders in
a white shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, graying blond hair slicked
back and cool blue eyes.
     "I don't mind," Valerie says.
     The woman says her name is Cleo. She sits on a stool beside
Valerie and she orders two beers for them. "Nothing like a cold
beer on a hot afternoon," Cleo says, giving Valerie's breasts an
approving glance before lifting her eyes to smile at her.
     Valerie nods, already feeling the first twitches of
excitement in her belly. "Yes, a cold beer is nice."
     They start talking. Cleo asks if Valerie has a lover and
Valerie says yes, but things aren't working out that well. Cleo
says she and her lover split a few weeks ago. "Makes me lonely,"
Cleo says. Then Cleo looks closely at Valerie. "You're not
straight, are you? I don't get along well with straight women."
     Valerie blushes, wondering if a straight woman would ever
wander into a place like Augie's. "No, I'm living with a woman."
     Cleo chuckles. "That's better."
     They make small talk for fifteen minutes or so, and before
long Cleo's arm is around Valerie's waist and Cleo's knee is
pressing against Valerie's with a firmness that heightens
Valerie's excitement. Valerie pretends she's in the bar merely to
cool off, and for a while Cleo plays along with her and says
nothing suggestive. Valerie's mind, however, is filled with
erotic images of Cleo doing things to her, Cleo fondling and
caressing her, sucking her nipples, kissing her belly, dropping
her mouth between her legs and licking her cunt until she goes
crazy. She imagines Cleo's long fingers inside her. She imagines
Cleo's cunt pushing against her mouth as Cleo fucks her face.
After another fifteen minutes, Valerie catches herself trembling
with anticipation. Cleo seems to sense it and she makes her move,
strokes Valerie's back and says her place isn't far and maybe
they ought to go there because they'll be more comfortable. If
Valerie likes jazz, they can listen to Cleo's tapes. Valerie
agrees, but of course she doesn't care about the jazz and neither
does Cleo. They both know they're going to Cleo's place to fuck.
Swaying a bit after four beers, Valerie waltzes out of Augie's on
Cleo's arm and feels happy that Cleo hails a taxi.
     "Better than walking," Cleo says, helping Valerie into the
cab and then sliding in beside her and giving the driver the
address. As soon as the taxi starts moving, Cleo leans against
Valerie and licks Valerie's ear. "You're beautiful," Cleo says.
     Valerie shudders and turns her face to be kissed. As their
mouths fuse, Cleo's hand slides under the edge of Valerie's dress
to stroke Valerie's knees. Valerie is wearing heels, but her legs
are bare. The feel of Cleo's fingers tickling her knees and
thighs makes her shiver with excitement.
     When they finish kissing, Cleo keeps her head against
Valerie's and says: "I'm crazy about your legs. That's the first
thing I noticed when you walked in. I like legs in heels."
     Valerie quivers. "I can't stay more than a few hours."
     "I promise not to tie you down."
     Valerie giggles. "I bet you do that too."
     "Only on request."
     "Well, I'm not requesting it, so don't think of it."
     "All right, I'll think of other things." And the way she
looks at Valerie makes it clear that whatever she's thinking
about is hot and exciting.
     The taxi finally arrives at Cleo's place. Cleo pays the
driver and they climb out. Cleo's apartment is tidy and
comfortably furnished. She tells Valerie she runs a truck rental
agency and is doing well at it. "How about some vodka?" Cleo
says. Valerie says yes, accepts a vodka tonic, hoping Cleo won't
dawdle too long because she's too nervous. But instead of
dawdling, Cleo moves quickly, and within a few minutes after
the drinks are poured in the living room, Valerie is in Cleo's
arms.
     "I bet you're a hot girl," Cleo says, her voice husky
against Valerie's ear. The older woman drops her big hands down
to squeeze Valerie's buttocks through her skirt. "Nice, doll. I
like the way you're put together." Then Cleo chuckles. "Am I
coming on too strong for you? Just tell me if I am. I don't want
any bad vibrations getting started."
     One hand holding onto Cleo's strong shoulder, Valerie sips
her drink and says: "I think I'm doing fine."
     Cleo laughs. "Good girl."
     Valerie crosses her arms behind Cleo's head as they stand
there and kiss. A spine-melting thrill passes through Valerie as
she feels Cleo's hand drop to the small of her back to press
their bellies more firmly together. Cleo grinds her hips against
Valerie's as she whispers in Valerie's ear that Valerie has her
steaming. "You're a doll," Cleo says.
     Happy, Valerie rubs her belly against Cleo's to let her know
she wants more. Cleo's hands slide over Valerie's shoulders and
down her arms to her waist. Cleo's lips trail over Valerie's
throat, then down to the low neckline of her dress. The older
woman's fingers graze over Valerie's breasts, then settle on
Valerie's right breast to play with the nipple through Valerie's
blouse and bra. Valerie shudders. She goes limp as Cleo's fingers
squeeze the nipple, pull and tug at it. She moans as she feels
the buzzing connection between her breasts and sex. When she
squeezes her thighs together, she can feel the wetness between
her legs.
     She loves it. Frankie never makes her feel like this,
certainly hasn't for a long time. Cleo seems to know how to turn
a woman on, how to get the furnace fired up and blazing.
     Cleo undresses her while they're standing, unbuttons her
blouse, unzips her skirt, strips her down to bra and panties and
then makes her sit on the sofa. Dropping down to her knees, the
rangy blonde starts kissing Valerie's legs and thighs and then
finally buries her face in Valerie's crotch.
     Valerie groans and lifts her knees. High heels wagging in
the air, she looks down to watch Cleo sniffing her cunt through
her panties, sniffing at the crotch already soaked with juice,
nuzzling it, teasing her by not removing her panties. Not even
her bra is off yet, the bra she likes to wear only because her
breasts need support. She wants Cleo to remove her bra, but Cleo
is too busy between her legs, busy driving her crazy with her hot
breath blowing against her panty-covered sex. Suddenly, with a
low sound in her throat, Cleo clamps her mouth over Valerie's
cunt and begins chewing the swollen lips through her panties.
     Valerie moans and closes her eyes. She remembers how Frankie
once did this when they first started dating. A hot date dancing
in a bar. Then a run to Frankie's place where Frankie had Valerie
on the sofa with her dress up. Frankie's face buried in Valerie's
sopping crotch. Valerie was drunk enough to hunch wildly, scream,
lift her pelvis, begging Frankie to get her pantyhose off and
fuck her. Valerie remembered the hot look in Frankie's eyes as
she started chewing the nylon instead, eating Valerie through her
pantyhose, eating her all the way to a fantastic orgasm that made
her scream.
     Cleo is eating her now, sucking her through the panties to
make her crotch a soggy mess of saliva and juice, eating her
pussy with such incredible energy. Wanting her. Valerie tells
herself this is what she needs. To be wants like this. She keeps
her legs up, her knees back, the high heels pointed at the
ceiling. She remembers Cleo telling her earlier that she likes
legs in heels. Now Cleo's face and hair graze the insides of her
thighs. Cleo's long fingers clutch at her ass through the
panties. Cleo's face is wet. Valerie can see the wetness on
Cleo's face when she looks down at her. Frankie never shows the
wet on her face. Frankie always makes sure to wipe it off before
she comes up again. Valerie has never been kissed by Frankie with
a wet mouth, never tasted herself on Frankie's lips. Her own
taste. Never had Frankie suck her through her panties with such
force. She spreads her legs wider now, her legs straight out and
wide open, offering Cleo everything she has.
     Then Cleo pulls her face away and she wipes her mouth with
the back of her hand. Without awkwardness. "You're hot, aren't
you, doll?"
     Valerie quivers, her legs still up and apart. "Can't you
tell?"
     Cleo laughs. "I'm just teasing you." One of her fingers
slides under the edge of Valerie's panties to touch a lip.
"Dripping," Cleo says. "You're dripping right through your
pants."
     Valerie moans. "Don't tease!"
     "I ought to tie you up and really tease you."
     "No, please..." Groaning, squirming her ass with
frustration as Cleo goes down again. Cleo's tongue laps over the
outside of Valerie's panties. Valerie has an urge to tear a hole
in the panties to get that tongue inside her.
     Then at last Cleo pulls away. No more. She gently urges
Valerie's legs down and she chuckles. "Enough, doll. Let's get to
the bedroom and have some comfort."
     She takes Valerie's hand, helps her rise and leads her out
of the living room.
     Now you belong to her, Valerie thinks. At least for a while
anyway. Wearing only her bra and panties while Cleo is still
fully dressed. She feels slutty. But the feeling is wonderful,
her body keyed up to a high pitch of anticipation.
     In the bedroom she stretches out on the bed. Cleo climbs on
and begins kissing her again, more slowly, a romantic pecking,
kissing and licking her mouth, then fluttering her tongue down
between her breasts, over her rib cage and into her navel. Cleo
at last rises to undress, her eyes hot. Valerie watches the
clothes come off. When Cleo strips her shirt off, there is no bra
to hide her breasts. She has small breasts on a lanky body, more
lanky than Frankie. But the nipples are pink instead of brown
like Frankie's. When Cleo is down to her underpants, Valerie can
see the wetness in her crotch, her juices seeping through the
cotton, the evidence she wants Valerie. Evidence not before the
court, Valerie thinks. Stolen evidence. She feels a deep pleasure
at the sight of another woman responding to her. Someone besides
Frankie responding to her. Although she can't remember the last
time she saw Frankie wetting her pants for her.
     Cleo teases Valerie by pulling her underpants down very
slowly. Pubic hair first. Then more of the mound. Curled blond
hair. And finally the split between the plump blond lips as she
lifts one leg to get the panties free. "Want to look?" Cleo says.
Laughing, she comes to the bed, puts one foot on the edge and
swings her knee wide to show everything, the pink flower open,
pink flaps like wattles. She pulls at her cunt with her fingers
to make her clit stick out. She's not that butch, is she? Valerie
doesn't mind it, but as she looks at Cleo's cunt she thinks it's
a bit silly, too blatant. But hot. A tall skinny butch with
graying blonde hair and a meaty cunt. Pink cunt and those pink
nipples. Cleo looks ready for fucking, the wattles out, the slit
wet. "Watch me," Cleo says. And Valerie is shocked as Cleo pushes
two fingers inside herself and starts masturbating. No shyness.
Her fingers slide in and out of her pink cunt. Cleo's crotch is
so close, Valerie can hear the sucking sound as the fingers move
in and out. And she can see the bit of flab on the insides of
Cleo's thighs. And that swollen clit above the fingers jerking
around like that. Cleo's thumb finds her clit and presses it
down, mashes it down as if to squash it into oblivion. "Christ,
I'm coming," Cleo says, her eyes rolling up, her pelvis punching
back and forth as she keeps her fingers moving. Valerie locks her
thighs, squeezing her cunt with her thigh muscles, amazed at
everything, amazed because everything happens so fast, amazed
she's still wearing her underwear, amazed a dyke who looks like
such a strong butch would do this. While Cleo gushes. Gushing on
her fingers. Her face flushed as she giggles, groans, pulls her
fingers out and says: "Wow." And laughs.
     Quickly now, Valerie unsnaps her bra and peels off her
panties. Cleo's eyes glitter as she takes in everything. "Nice
tits," Cleo says. "I like big tits."
     The strong butch again.
     Valerie smiles and says she isn't that big, but she moves
her shoulders to make her breasts jiggle. To make Cleo want her
more. Then Cleo comes on the bed and kisses her, only this time
they are both naked, the fresh contact of their bodies electric.
Cleo palms Valerie's breasts, squeezing them, then bending her
head to lick both nipples at the same time, digging her nose and
mouth between Valerie's breasts and licking the soft skin. Then
back to her nipples again, chewing on them, pulling Valerie's
nipples with her teeth until they feel raw. "Does it hurt?" Cleo
asks. And Valerie tells her almost, as she slips a hand down over
Cleo's back and over the narrow hip to cup Cleo's blond cunt.
Maybe surprising Cleo by doing it. Valerie rubs the heel of her
palm against the wet flaps, against Cleo's gushing flower,
smearing the syrup around on the insides of Cleo's thighs.
Valerie loves the electric pleasure of a wet cunt in her hand.
Especially a new one. No matter how much she likes the stability
of a monogamous relationship, the first touching of a new cunt is
always wonderful. And the cunt of a strong butch is always
something special.
     Cleo whispers: "Go on, suck it."
     Valerie blushes because she isn't ready for that. She wants
Cleo to give first. She's afraid Cleo will do all the taking.
Like some others she has known. The takers. Dykes who are too
sleek. "No, not yet."
     "Then get inside me and make me come."
     All right, she can do that. She pushes one of her fingers
inside, then two fingers, then three fingers. Cleo groans, raises
one knee. Cleo moves her ass, fucking back at Valerie's fingers,
exciting Valerie because she comes so easily. Valerie's fingers
are wet, sopping, drenched by the hot cunt. Delicious.
     Cleo looks happy. "Hey, you're good." No butch remorse about
having her cunt taken like that.
     Cleo now makes Valerie lie back on the bed and open her
legs, her knees up, her thighs wide apart to show her cunt. Cleo
looks at it, a long look at Valerie's wide open cunt. Valerie
quivers because it turns her on so much. The lust in Cleo's eyes,
the dyke hunger for pussy. Valerie groans as Cleo's fingers open
her, spread the lips apart to expose everything. Cleo smiles. "I
bet you're sweet like candy." Which makes Valerie blush no matter
how corny it is. Sweet like candy. Her pussy sweet like candy.
She wants Cleo's mouth. What is she waiting for? Looking at her
like that as she lies with her cunt wide open. Cleo's fingers now
pull at one of her lips, tugging it out as if to see how far it
will stretch. Possessive. And maybe a bit sadistic. Then tickling
her lower down in the crack of her ass. Valerie squirms, trying
to avoid it. But Cleo insists, using her middle finger, pushing
her wet middle finger inside Valerie's ass to see how open she
is. Then pulling the finger out and again telling Valerie she's a
hot doll. "You're a hot pussy," Cleo says. "Whoever you're living
with, she's not taking care of you."
     Valerie moans, aching. "Please do something..."
     Cleo chuckles, tells her to take it easy. "We've got all
afternoon, baby."
     "No, I can't. I can't stay too long." She pushes Cleo's
hands away from her cunt and she replaces them with her own, her
fingers in the wet, pressing on the shaft of her clitoris.
     Cleo laughs. "Come on, that's my job." Teasing her again,
taking her time, making Valerie hold the lips open while she
inspects the inside of her cunt. Then she has Valerie pinch out
her clit, force it to protrude at the top of her slit, Cleo
meanwhile with two fingers inside Valerie's vaginal opening. "You
like to rush it too much," Cleo says.
     "I can't stand being teased."
     "Your pussy says something else, doll. Your pussy says you
love it."
     Yes, she does love it. She hikes her knees up further as
Cleo's fingers start fucking her. She rocks her legs, holding her
knees back with her hands now, loving each thrust of Cleo's long
fingers in her canal.
     "That's it," Cleo says. "Come on, let me see you pop off."
     And pop off she does, her legs straight up in the air, her
cunt going wild as Cleo's fingers slam her crotch again and
again. At the end another cry as Cleo drops her head to clamp her
mouth on her wet pussy, Valerie moaning as she drops her legs on
Cleo's shoulders. She humps at Cleo's mouth, taking the blonde
butch's mouth, feeling Cleo sucking her insides out, coming hard,
and then coming down as Cleo licks the wetness on the insides of
her thighs.
     Cleo wiping her mouth with her fingers, then licking
Valerie's cream off her fingertips. "Have a beer?"
     Valerie nods, watching Cleo as she leaves the bed and walks
out of the bedroom, then reaching down to touch her cunt, feel
the wetness, close the lips in an attempt to cool herself down.
     Returning with two beers, Cleo says: "I gather you've got
problems at home."
     "Yes."
     "She doesn't give you enough."
     Embarrassed, Valerie closes her legs. "I'd rather not talk
about it."
     Cleo smiles as she pulls Valerie's legs apart. "Come on,
don't hide it. Not from me." Her blue eyes bright as she gazes at
Valerie's open cunt. "That's better." A moment later she puts her
beer away and she goes down on Valerie again, her lips and long
tongue massaging Valerie's wet pussy. Valerie moans, no longer
caring about anything except the mouth on her cunt, the hot
twirling tongue thrusting inside her vagina. Not caring. Only
this. A long blonde with a long tongue. Being wanted.
     Shortly after that, Valerie leaves the bed and she hurries
to get dressed again and leave. Cleo tries to stop her, but
Valerie insists. "No, I can't."
     "All right, here's my number, call me. Will you do that?"
     "Yes."
     And she's out the door, trembling, steeped in a great wash
of guilt, hoping she can find a taxi fast and get home quickly.

                          *     *     *

     In the evening, the routine with Frankie is the same as
usual. Frankie working out of her briefcase. Valerie lying on the
sofa watching a silly TV program. And thinking about Cleo. This
time she has something to think about, memories that make her
quiver, memories that make her hot again as she lies there on the
sofa while Frankie works at the dining room table with her
papers. Valerie thinks of Cleo sucking her until she climaxed.
She remains restless on the sofa until she goes to bed.
     On Saturday evening, Frankie suggests they go out to a
Chinese restaurant. Valerie is joyful, happy to be out with
Frankie who is sweet and loving as they sit facing each other in
a booth. "I love you," Valerie says. And Frankie smiles at her.
They touch hands while they wait for the food to arrive. This is
everything Valerie wants. But no, not everything. She needs the
sex too. At home later it's understood they'll make love.
Saturday night, isn't it? Frankie suggests they go right to bed
and they do that. Maybe it's too early. They kiss under the
covers. Frankie strokes Valerie's breasts and then she slips a
hand between Valerie's legs. Too fast. Valerie wants more of a
work-up, but instead Frankie's fingers are already inside her,
sliding in and out, Frankie's knuckle slamming her clit, pushing
her into it, making her come. Unable to hold back. Valerie
heaves, cries out, coming like crazy on Frankie's hand.
     Frankie says: "Are you all right?"
     "Yes."
     Valerie slides a hand down to Frankie's cunt, but Frankie
stops her. "No, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine. I don't need
anything."
     And turns away. Leaving Valerie staring at the ceiling in
the darkness. Why? How could she know why? After a while Valerie
leaves the bed and she walks into the bathroom to use her fingers
on her clit, rubbing herself as she leans against the wall.
Bitterness and a long sob as she finally has an orgasm.
     On Monday she telephones Cleo.
     "My lovely doll," Cleo says. A sultry happiness in her
voice. They make a date for one o'clock the next afternoon at
Cleo's place. "I'll be waiting, doll."



                           FOUR: CLEO


     After Cleo puts the phone down, she walks back to the living
room and she smiles at the girl on the sofa. "Are you okay, doll?
Would you like another drink?"
     The girl's name is Susan. She's a sandy blonde, a college
girl with long silky hair, a long body now extended on Cleo's
sofa. She looks at Cleo with seductive eyes and shakes her head.
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
     Cleo is solicitous, affectionate, seating herself on the
sofa now beside Susan's long legs. Susan wears a summer dress and
sandals, and she's barelegged. Cleo runs her hand over one of the
girl's lovely legs. "You could be a model."
     Susan smiles. "I'm not that pretty."
     "Yes you are, you're a knockout."
     Cleo picked her up only a few hours ago in a bar, and now
Cleo is congratulating herself because the girl is such a beauty
and so obviously hungry to be fucked. The girls are always easy
when they're looking for it, especially the rich college girls
from Northwestern. Cleo is forty-six, happy in her maturity,
happy because she's having more success with women these days
than she had when she was Susan's age. At Susan's age she was a
totally mixed up Sixties flower girl. Now she's a middle-aged
dyke with a settled mind and uncomplicated desires. There is
nothing complicated about the desire she feels for Susan. Cleo is
thrilled as Susan now slowly raises one knee, the movement
causing her dress to fall back enough to reveal one of her
thighs. The girl knows what she's doing. Oh yes.
     Susan wears hardly any makeup, but her lips are painted a
bright red. She likes to toss her long blonde hair, tossing it
over one shoulder or over the other shoulder, or sometimes
pulling a strand or two away from her face. Her body is long but
the curves are there, a hint of heaviness in the breasts and hips
that delights Cleo. The older woman imagines those ripe breasts
in her hands. That makes her think of Valerie's breasts,
Valerie's voice on the phone just a few minutes ago, Valerie's
dark-haired muff. Susan's muff will be something else, dark
blonde, Cleo guesses, the curls as fine as silk. Susan is lovely,
coquettish in a way that makes Cleo suspects the girl wants to be
dominated. Maybe she's not a true bottom, but just close enough
to excite Cleo's imagination. Cleo wonders who the girl knows,
who she's been with. She imagines Susan begging for things,
begging for pleasure. What a pretty slave she'd make, Cleo
thinks. The idea arouses Cleo because she enjoys exerting power
over her women. She finds enough women who want it, and it's
always thrilling with girls like Susan. Get them begging for it.
     Cleo rises now, and she walks over to the buffet against the
wall and she opens a drawer. She brings out a camera and a pack
of film. "I'd like to take some pictures of you," she says.
"Let's find out how good a model you are."
     Susan doesn't mind. Cleo keeps up a constant chatter about
how pretty Susan is, and Susan obviously enjoys that, smiling at
Cleo, tilting her head like a coquette. Yes, she likes the idea
of posing.
     Cleo shoots a few pictures of Susan reclined on the sofa,
Susan looking demure. Getting sweaty, Cleo takes her shirt off
and she now wears only a teeshirt and jeans, the exposure of her
bare arms revealing a tattoo on her right biceps, a heart pierced
by an arrow. Susan stares at the tattoo but she says nothing.
Cleo picks up the camera again, points it at Susan and looks
through the viewfinder. "Sexy girl," Cleo says. "Show us some
more leg."
     Susan giggles, teasing, tugging her dress back enough to
show more of her thighs to the camera. She pulls her shoulders
back to emphasize the curves of her breasts under the cotton
dress. Cleo tells her to open her legs more and Susan does that,
raising her knees, allowing the hem of her dress to fall back far
enough to show the tops of her thighs. Now when she opens her
legs, the crotch of her blue panties is suddenly revealed.
     "Yes, that's good," Cleo says, one eye fixed on the
viewfinder as she snaps another picture, Susan's open thighs in
the viewfinder, the blue panty-crotch bulging with the girl's
pussy. Susan moves her legs. Her face is flushed and Cleo guesses
the girl is getting turned on by the picture-taking. Cleo knows.
She has done this often enough with her women to know how some of
them start creaming in response to the camera. Now she's
wondering what Susan tastes like, aching to have the girl's
nectar on her tongue.
     "Take the dress off, honey. Let's get a few shots with more
zip in them."
     Susan giggles. "Am I going to be embarrassed by these
pictures someday?"
     "I'll give you the negatives."
     "Promise?"
     "Sure, doll. You trust me, don't you?"
     Cleo's excitement increases as she watches Susan rise and
unzip the back of her dress. The girl does a slow striptease,
gradually revealing her lithe body covered now by only a blue bra
and blue panties, the cups of the bra with filmy lacework, the
panties cut high on the sides and back to show much of her
compact buttocks. She does a turn for Cleo, poses standing for
several shots, then at Cleo's urging Susan removes the bra to
expose her darling breasts whose extended pink nipples testify
that her excitement is as great as Cleo's.
     The older woman now puts the camera down and she approaches
the girl who waits for her with laughing eyes. "You're going to
jump me," Susan says, pretending to cover her breasts with her
hands but making sure to leave her nipples exposed between her
spread fingers.
     But it's not the girl's breasts Cleo wants. When Cleo is
close enough, she slides her left arm around Susan's shoulders
and kisses her mouth at the same time as her right hand moves
directly to the blue panties. Susan gasps against Cleo's lips as
Cleo's long fingers slip inside the crotch of her panties and
pull the crotch outward as her knuckles rub into the wet groove
of the girl's cunt.
     Without haste, Cleo finds the shaft of Susan's clitoris and
she pinches it gently. "How about dressing up for me?"
     Her eyes closed as she feels her clitoris being manipulated,
Susan groans. "What do you mean?"
     "I've got some stockings and heels you can wear. We'll take
a few hot pictures."
     "Only if you promise I get the negatives."
     "I've already promised," Cleo says, pulling her hand away
now and lifting it to her mouth where she slowly cleans Susan's
nectar off her fingers. Susan blushes as she watches the older
woman lick her froth. Cleo smiles and leaves her, walking out of
the living room and down the short hall to the bedroom to find
something Susan can wear. She returns to Susan with a white lace
garter belt and sheer white hose and white high-heeled sandals,
smiling at Susan when she sees Susan has already removed her blue
panties to reveal her lovely triangle of silky blonde hair.
     Susan blushes as she stares at the shoes and stockings in
Cleo's hands. "You're different," Susan says.
     "How so?"
     "I've never done anything like this. I mean wearing that
stuff for someone."
     Cleo chuckles, her eyes on the blonde pussy. "But you're
going to like it, aren't you?"
     "Yes, I think so."
     "Come on, I'll help you."
     She helps Susan hook the garter belt around her loins, then
she assists Susan getting the stockings on her legs. As Susan
raises one leg after the other, Cleo's attention is drawn to the
girl's blonde pussy, the visible pink stripe between the plump
outer lips. Susan's tender breasts look like pomegranates as she
bends forward to attach the garters to the tops of the sheer
white stockings.
     Susan says: "I'm feeling sexy with this stuff."
     "You look sexy too. Now the shoes, doll."
     It's the shoes, the high-heeled sandals, that bring a
special pleasure to Cleo. She slips them onto Susan's feet, and
then she buckles the straps across the girl's pretty ankles. When
Susan finally rises, she giggles as she balances herself on the
four-inch stiletto heels. "Let me look in the mirror."
     Cleo watches Susan as she walks across the living room to
the full length mirror in the short hall near the front door. The
high heels, the long slender body, make Susan look ravishing.
Cleo takes up the camera and she begins snapping pictures again,
Susan at the mirror with her lips pouting as she looks at
herself, Susan turning to glance at the curves of her buttocks
framed by the white garter belt, Susan assuming a model's pose
with one leg gracefully bent at the knee. Cleo's desire
increases, and before long she stops taking pictures of Susan and
she stands there rubbing her cunt through her jeans as she
watches Susan twist and turn her body in various poses.
     Cleo finally takes the girl's arm. "Come back to the living
room."
     Susan giggles as she allows herself to be led along. Because
of the high heels, she's now taller than Cleo, tall enough so
that when Cleo wants to kiss her, Susan needs to bend her head to
meet Cleo's lips.
     Cleo drops a hand down to stroke Susan's ass. "Let me take
some pictures of your pussy."
     Susan giggles. "I thought it was coming to that."
     But Susan doesn't mind. She enjoys it. She stands near one
of the easy chairs and she lifts one foot to place it on the seat
cushion, her legs now wide apart to show everything to Cleo, who
quickly grabs the camera to take a picture of Susan's lovely cunt
pouting open like a pink flower, the dew glistening on the
petals, her clitoris still modestly covered by its hood. As if
understanding completely what Cleo wants, Susan slides a hand
between her legs and she uses her fingers to tug the cowl back
and expose the tip of her clitoris.
     "That's perfect," Cleo says. When Susan starts playing with
herself, rubbing her cunt with her fingers, Cleo takes another
picture. Their eyes meet. Susan blushes, but she continues to
masturbate as Cleo watches her. The girl wobbles on the high
heels, her tongue sliding over her lips, her breasts jerking with
each movement of the hand between her legs. Cleo laughs and she
finally stops it. She makes Susan turn around under the pretext
of adjusting the straps of the garter belt. Cleo fondles Susan's
ass, and then she gets her fingers between Susan's buttocks to
stroke her anus. Susan giggles, enjoying it, showing her small
white teeth as she laughs. "You're making me nutty," Susan says,
wagging her hips from side to side as Cleo's fingers probe inside
her wet cunt.
     Cleo picks up the camera again. "Let's have a picture of
that lovely butt." She makes Susan bend forward to emphasize her
ass. With a little more coaxing, Susan reaches back to pull her
buttocks apart to show her cunt and anus from behind. "You're
being nasty," Susan says.
     "Yes, but I can tell you like it."
     "Why don't you get undressed and let me suck you off?"
     Cleo quivers and she slaps Susan's buttocks. "Now who's
being nasty? Do you like sucking off old dykes?"
     "Only if they taste good."
     Cleo slaps her ass again. "You're a little bitch, aren't
you? All right, lie down on the rug."
     Susan quickly stretches out on the rug as Cleo removes her
jeans and underpants. Cleo's cunt is wet, her pulse racing as she
gazes down at the girl waiting for her. Holding her crotch with
her hand, Cleo straddles Susan's body, and then she squats down
to fit her cunt against Susan's upturned mouth.
     "Good girl," Cleo says, and she starts grinding her crotch
against Susan's face, rubbing her clit against Susan's nose and
lips and chin as she wonders how far she can go with Susan and
whether Susan will ever come back to her. Sometimes they never
come back. You pine for them, but they never come back. They walk
into your life one day, and then they walk out again and for them
you're only an anecdote.
     "Come on, suck it," Cleo says, her eyes making contact with
Susan's eyes as she adds a twist to the movement of her cunt.



                          FIVE: VALERIE

     The next day Valerie arrives at Cleo's apartment wearing a
dress and heels. Hot kisses follow once the front door is
closed. And then Cleo discovers the gartered stockings and she
goes wild. "Come on, show me."
     In the living room, Valerie holds her dress up to show her
legs and thighs, the tops of her stockings, the black lace garter
belt. The lace panties are already soaked. Cleo makes her walk
around like that. And then finally Cleo rushes her into the
bedroom and tumbles her on the bed. The older woman hurries to
get Valerie's panties off. She slips her thighs under Valerie's
ass and pushes her knees back to her breasts to make Valerie's
crotch spread out like a banquet, everything available. Valerie
has never before had it like this. Cleo's full control drives her
wild. Cleo's tongue probes between her labia, slithering, sucking
at the mouth of her vagina. Valerie moans, shudders at the hot
stabbing of Cleo's tongue..
     "Do you like this, doll?"
     "Yes."
     "Up a little more. Yes, that's better. Keep those pretty
legs up."
     Valerie's high heels wave in the air. Cleo bends her head
again, her tongue wagging, her thumbs spreading Valerie's flower
to get at her clit. Miss Pearl coming out of her hood. Valerie
shudders as she watches the woman slurp the juice oozing out of
her pussy. The noises. Cleo slobbering like that. Cleo pushing
her knees back as she presses her chin against Valerie's ass.
     And Valerie thinks: It's Frankie who ought to be doing this.
She's Frankie's woman, not Cleo's. But at this moment she's
totally Cleo's woman. Spread for Cleo, isn't she? But still
Frankie ought to be doing it. She's Frankie's wife. Frankie ought
to know how much she needs this. Loving like this. At least once
in a while. The bitch Frankie takes better care of her books than
she does of her wife. Frankie never sucks her like this. Making a
meal out of her. Driving her crazy.
     Cleo now has Valerie's cunt in her mouth. Literally. Chewing
on a lip, pulling it inside her mouth, sucking the swollen flap.
Valerie thinks her clit feels bigger than ever before, puffed,
turgid, throbbing. When Cleo finally starts sucking her clit,
Valerie throws her head back and groans. Oh god yes. Suck it.
Suck my clit. Cleo grips Valerie's ass with both hands, pushing
her thumbs inside Valerie's cunt to stretch it wide open. Then
more sucking on Valerie's clit until her cunt explodes. Cleo held
on, not releasing her, keeping Valerie's cunt captured.
     When Valerie opens her eyes again, she finds Cleo smiling at
her.
     Cleo says: "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
     "Yes."
     Cleo is sitting in a lotus position, her legs folded, her
knees wide open, her slit gaping at Valerie, the older woman's
cunt hypnotizing her.
     "I think you've been doing without," Cleo says. "You
shouldn't. It's bad for you. Makes you crazy." Her hand strokes
Valerie's nylon-clad ankle. Then the shoe. Running her fingertips
over the spike heel. "Anyway, I like you. I want you to know
that."
     Valerie blushes. "I like you too."
     Then Cleo wants to know how committed she is to Frankie. And
Valerie has to explain how she isn't thinking of leaving Frankie
just yet because she's hoping things will work out. Develop.
Change. A transformation of some kind. Why not? People change,
don't they? With her eyes on Cleo's pink pussy. So unavoidable
because there it is staring at her as Cleo sits with her knees
wide open.
     Cleo smiles when she notices Valerie's eyes on her cunt.
"You want to do me?" And without waiting for an answer, she
climbs over Valerie, squats over Valerie's face, then drops her
pussy down until Valerie has the pink slash of Cleo's cunt on her
mouth, Cleo immediately groaning, sliding back and forth, holding
onto the headboard with her hands as she mashes her wet cunt
against Valerie's face while telling Valerie how much she likes
her.
     Later Cleo fucks Valerie with her fingers. Valerie is hoping
they can do a little cunt-rubbing because she likes that with
lanky women, but Cleo wants to use her fingers instead. So
Valerie lies back with her knees up while Cleo uses those long
fingers to make her come three times. Hard fucking that leaves
Valerie's cunt bruised by Cleo's knuckles. Cleo offers to get her
fist inside, but Valerie says no, she's had enough. Next time,
Cleo says. Next time she'll show Valerie how good it is with all
of her hand inside Valerie's cunt. "You'll go wild," Cleo says.
"I'm very good with my hand."

                          *     *     *

     "You look anxious," Jay says.
     Jay is Valerie's closest friend. Valerie worked as a
schoolteacher for two years after finishing college, and she met
Jay at the school. Neither one of them had come out yet and
connecting was difficult, awkward, and a great secret. But they
actually made love only once, one of those affairs that never go
anywhere. But after that they became constant friends, kept in
touch, and Valerie has always enjoyed Jay's company. Now, in a
downtown coffee shop, Valerie feels a need to unburden herself as
she tells Jay everything, all about her troubles with Frankie and
the new woman Cleo.
     When Valerie finishes talking, Jay raises an eyebrow and
says: "I think I know this Cleo."
     "You do?"
     "You know I don't do the bar scene, but I think I met her at
some groups. Is she in the trucking business?"
     "Yes."
     "Then it must be her. I've heard she's nasty."
     "What do you mean?"
     "She's into pushing her lovers around. What are you going to
do now?"
     Blushing, Valerie says she has no idea. She isn't thinking
of leaving Frankie because she loves Frankie. Jay knows Frankie
and likes her. Jay is living with a lover now, another
schoolteacher. Valerie says she won't leave Frankie, but she
certainly isn't happy with her life. "I'm having a rough time."
     Jay tilts her head to the side and she says things will work
themselves out. "There's nothing wrong with some playtime on the
side," Jay says. "Provided you keep it from Frankie."
     "I don't like doing it."
     "No one likes doing it. Unless they need it."
     That's it, isn't it? If she needs it and she can't get it at
home, she has to do it in order to have a life.
     "Anyway, be careful with Cleo," Jay says. "Don't let her
push you around too much."
     Which makes Valerie blush again, because it's the pushing
around that makes her like Cleo so much.

                          *     *     *

     "My sweet doll," Cleo says.
     She has Valerie on her bed, both of them naked, Valerie on
her back with her knees up as Cleo now mounts her. Holding her
knees with her hands, Valerie watches the older woman position
herself to get their cunts kissing. A moment later Valerie moans
as Cleo begins a twisting grind that sends flashes of hot
pleasure through Valerie's pussy and belly. Cleo humps and
churns, grinding their pubic bones one against the other, then
pulling back to hoist Valerie's legs over her shoulders. Now
supporting the upper part of her body with her hands, Cleo starts
fucking her again.
     "How does it feel, doll?"
     Valerie moans. Her pubis feels bruised, her cunt on fire. "I
love it."
     Cleo laughs, moves again, thrusting forcefully against
Valerie's pussy. She pushes Valerie's legs away and she lies flat
on Valerie's body. With her weight on Valerie, she starts
grinding again, the two juicy cunts slamming against each other.
Valerie's belly is soaked, drenched with their juices.
     Then Cleo slips her fingers inside Valerie's cunt, fucking
her now with two fingers in her vagina, her hips bouncing up and
down as her fingers slide in and out of Valerie's canal. The
penetration is deep, total, a vigorous possession that Valerie
adores. She loves being taken like this by a woman, the force of
it, the overwhelming force of the body above her own. She loves
having a woman fuck her like this, the woman's fingers stretching
her cunt wide open. She begs Cleo for more of it, more hard
fucking. She cries out as Cleo's long fingers ravage her vagina.
She has no doubt this is right, this fucking outside her
relationship with Frankie. Her lover Frankie. All she cares about
at this moment is the pleasure she feels, the skill Cleo has in
satisfying her. Cleo pounds her now, slamming Valerie's knees
back against her breasts, pumping her fingers inside Valerie's
vagina.
     Suddenly Cleo pulls her fingers out, smiling. "Roll over,
doll."
     Valerie groans, dismayed by the abrupt absence of Cleo's
fingers. Blushing, obedient, she rolls over on her belly and she
quivers with excitement. Cleo pulls at her waist to get her up on
her knees. Valerie's head rests on the pillow, her ass in the
air, her body totally vulnerable. Kneeling behind her, Cleo
fingers Valerie's cunt, pulls the lips apart and tells her how
lovely she looks. "Red and dripping," Cleo says. "Tasty white
frosting all over it."
     Valerie shudders. What a thrill it is to be taken like this.
She adores the total animality. This is the ultimate, the most
basic kind of woman-fucking, her cunt and ass presented to Cleo,
her two openings available, offered. This is what she needs, what
Frankie never gives her.
     She trembles, waiting, not knowing what Cleo will do next.
Maybe Cleo will take her ass. Something never done by Frankie.
Valerie tells herself she wouldn't mind it. She likes it when
it's done right. The pleasure can be intense. She weaves her hips
from side to side, silently urging Cleo to do something.
     One hand rubbing the small of Valerie's back, Cleo slowly
pushes two fingers inside Valerie's cunt again. She leans over
Valerie's body as she penetrates deep inside her vagina. Valerie
whimpers as Cleo slides her hand underneath to grasp one of her
hanging breasts. Cleo's pinches the stiff nipple as her long
fingers piston in and out of Valerie's cunt. Valerie cries out,
grinding her ass against Cleo's belly, her juices gushing as Cleo
fucks her. Waves of pleasure rush up her chest as her cunt
spasms, a hot flood over her body, an intense orgasm.
     Cleo continues thrusting in her cunt, and then finally she
pulls her fingers out and she wipes them on Valerie's ass. "Come
on top of me, honey. Let's try it that way."
     Valerie groans, wound up like a tight wire, willing to do
anything Cleo wants, anything to keep them fucking.
     Cleo lies down on her back and Valerie squats over her
belly. Cleo spreads Valerie's cunt with her fingers, and then she
slips the fingers inside to take her again.
     Valerie rides the older woman's fingers, gyrating her hips,
moaning as the fingers stabs her canal. She can feel her juices
gushing out. She whimpers with pleasure as Cleo's free hand
squeezes one of her breasts.
     Cleo chuckles. "Come on, doll, move it. Fuck my fingers."
     Valerie groans. "That's what I'm doing."
     "Would you like to piss a little? Do it on my hand. I get
turned on when a girl pisses on my hand while I'm fucking her."
     "Cleo, please . . . "
     "Don't you want to?"
     Valerie giggled. "That's too much."
     "Come on, just a little bit."
     "No, I can't!"
     She won't do it, not with Cleo. It's too raunchy, too
vulgar. She continues grinding her ass, squatting over Cleo as
she fucks Cleo's stiff fingers, but she refuses to do what Cleo
wants.
     Grasping one of Valerie's breasts, Cleo pulls her forward
and hunches upward. She pumps her fingers in and out of Valerie's
cunt. Valerie moans as Cleo pummels her clit. Now Cleo releases
Valerie's breast to grab her ass. Her fingers slice between
Valerie's buttocks to probe her anus. Valerie cries out as she
feels herself penetrated in both places, Cleo's fingers in her
cunt and ass, a total possession as she continues to squat over
Cleo with her juices running out to drench both of them. She
comes hard, gasping, whimpering, then finally rolling over on her
side exhausted.
     Cleo takes Valerie in her arms and kisses her, soothing
kisses on her eyes and forehead. "You came so hard for me, I love
you." Her hands knead Valerie's buttocks, her strong fingers
pressing into Valerie's flesh. Valerie cuddles against her,
flushed and happy, her lips pressed against Cleo's neck as Cleo
continues fondling her ass.
     "Do you want the blanket?"
     "No, I'm fine," Valerie says.
     "Are you sure?"
     "Yes."
     One of Cleo's fingers finds Valerie's anus and slips inside.
"You're so tight."
     "Oh, Cleo . . . "
     "I can tell you like it."
     Valerie whimpers against Cleo's neck. "I don't like it when
it hurts."
     "Am I hurting you now?"
     "No."
     "Does it belong to me?"
     "Cleo, please . . . "
     "Say it."
     "Yes."
     Cleo chuckles and kisses her mouth. Valerie wants it. She
wants everything Cleo wants. Maybe it's revenge against Frankie.
If Cleo wants her ass, Valerie will give it to her. Her anus is
already twitching around Cleo's invading finger, but the opening
is still too dry. "Cleo, use something."
     Cleo agrees, says she has some lotion she can use. She
brings the bottle from the night table, and Valerie trembles as
she lies on her side and watches Cleo spread the lotion over her
long fingers. Valerie can feel the heat in her face. She's
uncertain again as she imagines those long fingers inside her.
     Then Cleo makes her lift one leg, draw the knee up to her
chest. Cleo squeezes out another glob of lotion and this time she
paints Valerie's anus with it. Valerie groans, her eyes closed as
Cleo's finger slowly pushes inside her lubricated ass.
     "You're still tight," Cleo says. "Come on, relax for me,
honey." Her finger stretches the tight ring, slowly sliding in
and out.
     The intimacy of the act makes Valerie shudder with pleasure.
Yes, she does want this. She wants to be taken this way. The
lubrication makes it easy and the pleasure is already intense.
Cleo is gentle as she stretches her opening, whispering at her,
asking her if it's good, does she like it? telling her she can
feel she's relaxing now. Cleo adds a second finger, pushes the
second finger inside Valerie's ass, pushes both fingers deep
inside the passage as she urges Valerie to open up to her.
Valerie moans as she does her best to remain open and loose to
the invading digits, gasping at intervals as the two fingers
slide in and out of her ass. Cleo is gentle and forceful at the
same time. Valerie's ass is now receptive, yielding, craving
those long fingers to do more. She's thrilled by it now,
shuddering as Cleo kisses her again, as Cleo holds her tightly
with her free arm, whispering in her ear, calling her a hot ass
bitch. Valerie loves it. She loves all of it. She loves
everything about Cleo.
     "Come for me, honey. Come for Cleo now."
     Valerie cries out, jerks her hips back and forth, and comes
hard as her ass clutches at Cleo's fingers.



                          SIX: FRANKIE

     At two o'clock in the afternoon, Frankie is sitting in the
waiting room of Dr. Virginia Fay. Three other people are in the
room, three expensively dressed middle-aged women, each with a
magazine on her lap, each woman idly turning the pages of the
magazine with a light rustling sound. The shadow of the
receptionist can be seen behind the glass partition.
     Frankie is annoyed. This is only her second visit, a new
gynecologist for her, and when she made the appointment the girl
on the phone assured her she would not need to wait, assured her
Dr. Fay understood the needs of professionals and how important
it was not to waste time during the working day. Understands
nothing, Frankie thinks. Dr. Fay was recommended to Frankie by
Sandy Edberg, a female attorney acquaintance of Frankie's. Not a
friend, merely an acquaintance, but maybe Sandy understands
Frankie is gay. The first visit to Dr. Fay six months ago was
uneventful and routine, and at least there hadn't been any
waiting that time. Frankie hates waiting in waiting rooms.
Restless, she squirms on her chair, picks up a magazine, puts it
down again, fidgets with her watchband.
     Finally the glass window slides open and the face of the
receptionist appears. "Ms.Hooper?"
     In a few minutes Frankie is alone in a small examining room,
seated on the cushioned examining table, waiting again, her
clothes on a clothes tree and her body covered by a green cotton
gown. The door opens and Dr. Fay walks in, a tall efficient
looking woman of forty in a white coat.
     Dr. Fay smiles. "And how are we today?"
     "I'm fine," Frankie says.
     The doctor makes small talk as she takes Frankie's blood
pressure, chitchat about the weather, the traffic on the Outer
Drive, the latest exhibit at the Art Institute. "How's the love
life?" Dr. Fay says. "Are we taking proper precautions these
days?"
     "Yes."
     "Are you seeing one man exclusively?"
     Frankie hesitates. "I'm gay, doctor."
     Flustered, Dr. Fay pulls the stethoscope out of her ears and
slips it into one of the pockets of her coat. She avoids
Frankie's eyes. "Sorry about that. I didn't notice it on your
card. I'll be back in a few minutes for the pelvic."
     And she leaves.
     Frankie is now alone again, irritated by the room, the
doctor, her gown, the mushy feel of the examining table
underneath her buttocks. She hates doctors and hospitals and all
things medical. She has memories of herself as a child screaming
during examinations by physicians. She tells herself Dr. Fay
ought to have known she's gay because she made a point of telling
her during the first visit. Stupid bitch in a white coat, Frankie
thinks. She wonders how much trouble she'll have finding another
gynecologist.
     The door opens and the nurse enters, a thin young woman with
dark eyes, unappealing, already pegged by Frankie during the
first visit as a dyke. The nurse wants Frankie to lie down and
get ready for the pelvic exam, the nurse bringing up the stirrups
from the sides of the table, and then when Frankie lies down on
her back she lifts Frankie's ankles into place. "That's good,"
the nurse says, and Frankie gets a small rush as the nurse gives
Frankie's cunt an extended look of interest, Frankie imagining
the nurse's face buried in it with her long dyke tongue flapping
around to make her feel good. But the nurse is too unappealing
and Frankie avoids eye contact, amusing herself by imagining what
it would be like to be a nurse and look at cunts all day. Marcia
only shrugged when Frankie asked, but of course Marcia is a
psychiatric nurse and she doesn't get much chance to look at
cunts.
     Now the door opens and the doctor comes in to examine
Frankie. Brusque, efficient, hardly a glance at Frankie's face.
Is she more distant than the last time? Does she remember that a
short while ago Frankie told her she's gay? Frankie thinks maybe
Dr. Fay is more distant because of that, Dr. Fay with a dyke
nurse but not gay herself, or if she is gay she doesn't
advertise, her fingers now doing things to Frankie's cunt, taking
a smear, probing, pulling, almost getting her nose in it as she
bends forward with that light on her forehead that makes her look
like a fugitive from a science fiction movie. Is she gay? Oh
fuck, I don't care, Frankie thinks. All she wants now is to get
out of here. She doesn't like the routine here. The other
gynecologist had a smoother setup. Maybe she just hates the idea
of strange women looking at her cunt.
     "You're fine," Dr. Fay says, sliding back on her chair, then
rising. "Assuming the pap is negative, I'll see you in six
months." A short smile at Frankie, and then she leaves.
     Well, the pap better be negative, hadn't it?
     The nurse gets Frankie's ankles off the stirrups, gets her
legs down, but instead of leaving she dawdles. "Was it raining
when you came in?"
     "No, not at all."
     "I never remember to bring my umbrella."
     Frankie wants the nurse to leave before she removes the gown
and gets dressed. She sits on the table and waits, but the nurse
insists on puttering in one of the cabinets.
     The nurse says: "On some days this job is a pain."
     Frankie doesn't answer, pretends she has nothing to say,
waits for the nurse to leave, and finally the nurse mutters
something else and she walks out.
Dumb bitch, Frankie thinks.

                          *     *     *

     Later that afternoon, Frankie is in her office when her
secretary buzzes her. "There's a Miss Marcia Mason here. Says
she's one of your clients."
     Frankie curses under her breath. "All right, show her in and
hold my calls."
     In a moment Marcia enters the office and closes the door
behind her. "You don't mind, do you? I got off work early and I
thought I would drop by."
     Frankie does her best to sound pleasant. "It's better if you
telephone first."
     Instead of sitting down, Marcia walks over to where Frankie
is seated behind her desk and she bends forward to kiss Frankie's
lips. "Don't be angry with me, I just wanted to see you."
     "I'm not angry," Frankie says, apprehensive now because
she's afraid to get caught with Marcia by the others in the
office. Frankie rises, and she goes to the door to lock it. Now
she feels more secure, and when she returns to Marcia, she leads
Marcia away from the window and she kisses her. "I don't usually
bring my personal life into the office, pet."
     "I'm sorry."
     "Never mind, you're here already." The fact is Frankie isn't
that displeased now that she has Marcia standing so close to her
she can smell Marcia's perfume and look down at the ripe swells
of Marcia's breasts in her scoop-neck peasant blouse. "You're not
wearing a bra," Frankie says.
     Marcia giggles. "That's right."
     They kiss again, and this time Frankie gets her hands on
Marcia's lovely full breasts, enjoying the feel of them after the
rotten day she's had. She gets one of Marcia's breasts over the
top of the blouse and she starts sucking it, Marcia encouraging
her by holding the tit with her hand and making noises of
pleasure as Frankie's lips tug at the fat nipple. "God, I love
the way you do that!" Marcia says.
     Her mouth fixed on the tip of the large breast, Frankie
slides a hand under Marcia's billowing skirt to find the sopping
crotch of Marcia's pantyhose. Her fingers insistent, probing,
forceful, Frankie rubs Marcia's plump cunt until Marcia groans
and comes.
     "Oh Jesus!" Marcia gasps.
     "Come on, let's get out of here. I'll tell them I'm leaving
early."

                          *     *     *

     In Marcia's apartment, Marcia lies naked on her bed with her
breasts lolling on her chest like a pair of balloons and a
Panasonic Special buzzing between her spread legs. The vibrator
has a huge disc-shaped head rimmed with black rubber, angled by
Marcia now so the edge of the disc pushes between her labia.
Marcia moans, her face sweaty, her knees shaking at intervals as
the pleasure tears through her cunt.
     Frankie sits on a chair near the bed. She's wearing an
undershirt and underpants, what she had on under her suit when
she arrived with Marcia. Nothing much has happened yet, except
Marcia ignoring Frankie and having fun with her vibrator, which
makes Frankie think maybe Marcia is too much for her, too
sexually uncontrolled. She doesn't mind Marcia using the
vibrator, what she minds is just watching it without doing
anything. She's also a little amazed at the way Marcia appears to
be having a continuous orgasm. When Frankie uses a vibrator, she
comes in spurts, bang, bang, bang, not one continuous convulsion.
She hasn't ever done it with Valerie, not with a vibrator.
They've used dildoes, but nothing electrical. The fact is
vibrators make Frankie unhappy because she thinks they're much
too mechanical. She would rather use her mouth and fingers on a
woman than use something you plug into a wall.
     Frankie finally leaves the chair and she crouches to pull
the vibrator plug out of the electric outlet in the wall.
     Marcia suddenly cries out, looks at the dead vibrator and
then looks at Frankie. "Hey, what the hell is going on?"
     "Either you put that thing away or I leave," Frankie says.
     Marcia giggles. "You're kidding."
     "No, I'm not kidding."
     Frankie climbs on the bed. She takes the vibrator out of
Marcia's hands and she puts it on the night table. Then she
spreads Marcia's legs and she gets her body between Marcia's
thighs with her pubic bone mashed against Marcia's cunt.
     "Oh yeah," Marcia says. She lifts her knees, but Frankie
wants them down. When Frankie has the arrangement she wants, she
begins grinding her cunt against Marcia's cunt, a steady slow
fucking with Frankie's underpants quickly drenched by Marcia's
flowing juices.
     Marcia comes, but it's not enough for her. When Frankie
pulls back, Marcia rolls over on her knees. "Do it to me like
this."
     Frankie's excitement increases as she gazes at Marcia's
hairy cunt and ass. Marcia has more hair down there than most
women. Frankie strokes Marcia's buttocks. She tickles the plump
cunt, and then she spreads the lips apart with her fingers and
she gets her tongue on Marcia's clit. The chunky brunette presses
backward, attempting to get more pressure on her clit, moaning
now as Frankie begins a steady lapping of the running cunt, her
tongue lapping up and down as she licks up the rich flowing
juices.
     "Come on, rim me," Marcia says. But Frankie has no interest
in it, and she's also a bit resentful that Marcia asks for it.
Frankie can't remember anyone who actually asked her for it.
Rimming is something you do or don't do, but it should be up to
the rimmer, Frankie thinks. Instead, she sucks Marcia's cunt with
more vigor, getting her tongue inside the vaginal opening and
fluttering it in and out as Marcia squeals and humps her ass back
at Frankie's face.
     Later, as she gets dressed, Frankie thinks maybe she ought
to end it with Marcia. Maybe it's time to end it because Marcia
is really too much for her. But she says nothing to Marcia, and
at the door she kisses Marcia goodby and she squeezes one of
Marcia's breasts.

                          *     *     *

     That evening, as Frankie and Valerie sit together in the
living room, Valerie says: "Can I ask you something?"
     "What is it?"
     "Is there something going on between us?"
     "If there is I don't know about it."
     "I have the feeling something's going on."
     "There's nothing going on."
     "It's like you never have time for me."
     "You're talking about sex."
     "Yes."
     "Valerie, you know how busy I am."
     "That's what I mean, you're always busy."
     "You're being silly again. I'm no busier now than I was when
we first met. I'm in a busy profession."
     Valerie says nothing. She returns to flipping the pages of
her magazine, one of her crossed legs swinging like a metronome.

                          *     *     *

     Two hours later, Frankie is standing in the hallway outside
their bedroom. The bedroom door is open just a crack, but it's
enough so she can see into the room, see everything clearly, see
Valerie on the bed in her pink nightgown that Frankie thinks is
too cute, Valerie with her knees up, the nightgown pulled back,
her right hand between her thighs and her fingers in her cunt.
     Frankie watches it. She could walk in and interrupt her or
she can stand here and watch it. She chooses to watch it,
wondering if maybe Valerie expects it, wondering why she feels
differently about Valerie these days. In the beginning Frankie
told herself this was it, Valerie was everything she wanted, they
would be happy forever and ever and nothing would ever come
between them. Now she watches the jerking movement of Valerie's
hand and she wonders why she was ever so naive about Valerie, so
naive about what she herself wants out of life.



                         SEVEN: VALERIE

     "It makes me feel uncomfortable," Valerie says to Cleo.
     They sit opposite each other in a booth in a restaurant.
It's two o'clock in the afternoon and Valerie is uncomfortable
because for the past ten minutes Cleo has been asking her
questions about her sex life with Frankie. Valerie thinks it's
disloyal to talk about Frankie to Cleo, but one part of her mind
tells her she's being silly because the worse disloyalty is the
way she secretly has sex with Cleo behind Frankie's back.
     Cleo says: "You mean it makes you hot."
     Valerie blushes. "I didn't say that. I said it makes me
uncomfortable to talk about Frankie behind her back."
     "I thought you liked me."
     "I do, Cleo. I like you a lot."
     "But not enough to tell me what you do with Frankie."
     Valerie groans. She looks around the restaurant one more
time to make sure none of Frankie's friends are in the room. She
wasn't that happy when Cleo suggested this place, but now that
they're here there isn't much she can do about it. "We don't do
anything unusual. Anyway, I don't know why it's so important to
talk about it."
     Cleo smirks, glancing at Valerie and then at the waitress as
she walks by their table. "It's important because it interests
me. Has she ever fisted you?"
     Valerie feels the flush in her face. "No."
     "When was the last time you did anything together."
     "Saturday night."
     Cleo chuckles. "Oh yeah. Wednesdays and Saturdays, isn't it?
What did you do with her?"
     "Cleo, please . . . "
     "You know you're going to tell me. Just tell me what you did
with her."
     And so Valerie describes to Cleo what happened between her
and Frankie on Saturday night, how they went out to dinner and
then afterward made love for a change in the living room, Frankie
insisting that Valerie kneel on the sofa while Frankie fucked her
from behind with her fingers.
     Cleo looks amused. "Did you like it?"
     "Yes, of course I did."
     "And what did you do after that? Did you go down on her?"
     Valerie blushes. "No, we just went to sleep."
     "That's all? What's her cunt like? Does she have a big
clit?"
     "Cleo, please . . . "
     "Please what, honey?"
     "Please keep your voice down, we're in a restaurant."
     "Hell, I know that. All I'm thinking about now is getting my
tongue a mile up your pussy and wiggling it around. Would you
like
that?"
     "Oh god."

                          *     *     *

     In Cleo's cluttered tiny bathroom, Valerie has her panties
off and her skirt hiked up to her waist as she bends forward over
the toilet to show Cleo her ass.
     "My precious doll," Cleo says.
     Valerie groans as she supports her weight with one hand on
the tank behind the toilet. "You always get me so hot."
     She feels Cleo's hand on her ass, Cleo's fingers sliding
between her buttocks to find her cunt. Valerie moans as Cleo
spreads the petals and teases her with a tickling fingertip.
     "Don't move," Cleo says.
     Valerie's heart beats wildly as she imagines what she looks
like bent over like this with her ass naked. A gasp comes out of
her throat as she feels Cleo tickling her anus.
     "Cleo, please . . . "
     "I said don't move."
     They've done this on other occasions and by now Valerie is
used to it. Cleo's games. Valerie hears Cleo open the medicine
cabinet, and a moment later she feels something cool on her anus,
a lubricant jelly, always effective enough so that when Cleo
pushes a finger inside her Valerie can take it without
difficulty.
     "My thumb," Cleo says with a soft laugh, the digit now
wriggling in Valerie's rectum as Cleo's forefinger and middle
finger slide effortlessly inside Valerie's wet vagina. "There,
I've got you," Cleo says, her three fingers hooked inside Valerie
two openings as if to hold a bowling ball. "Go on, move it,
honey. Show Cleo how that ass can move."
     Valerie loves it. She groans, the intense excitement
producing a raging fire in her belly, a fire only augmented by
the desperate embarrassment she feels, the awareness of her
complete surrender to Cleo's will.
     She moves her ass. Cleo taunted her during the ride home by
telling her how they would do it, how Valerie would move her ass
against Cleo's fingers, and now here they are making it real,
Valerie humping her ass against Cleo's firm hand in order to fuck
herself on Cleo's invading fingers. Valerie groans and grunts,
desperately seeking an orgasm, arching her back as she thrusts
her ass and cunt at Cleo's fingers. Cleo laughs as Valerie
finally comes, as Valerie cries out and shakes her hips from side
to side.
     Her fingers remaining embedded in Valerie's two canals, Cleo
says: "Good, baby? Come on, clamp down a little more and finish
it."
     Valerie is always amazed at the way Cleo understands
everything about her body and the way it works and what brings
the most pleasure when they fuck. She clamps her two holes on
Cleo's fingers, groaning as she feels another squirt of bliss in
her cunt. Cleo then slowly withdraws her fingers and she makes
Valerie drop her dress and turn around. Cleo says Valerie ought
to drop the skirt and just wear the stockings and heels. "You
know how much I like looking at your legs," Cleo says.
     Valerie is without a garter belt because the stockings have
elastic tops. "What about my blouse?"
     Cleo kisses her. "You can leave it on." And then she adds:
"I've invited someone to join us and she ought to be here soon."
     Valerie is stunned. "Someone to join us?"
     Cleo chuckles, her hand stroking Valerie's cheek. "Don't
worry, doll, it just makes things better for us. Her name is
Susan and she likes doing whatever she's told. Won't that be
fun?"
     Still dazed by the news that someone is about to join them,
Valerie follows Cleo out of the bathroom and into the living
room. There Cleo reminds Valerie about her skirt, and with
trembling fingers, Valerie unzips her skirt, drops it and steps
out of it. The blouse she wears isn't long enough to cover her
sex, which puffs out in a dark thicket at the joining of her
thighs. Cleo smiles with approval and she makes Valerie do a turn
to show her ass above the tops of the stockings. "You're
delicious," Cleo says. "The shoes are new, aren't they?"
     Valerie nods. Yes, the shoes are new, bought the day before
on Oak Street because she had a date with Cleo and she knew Cleo
would like them. Cleo does like them, and Valerie is happy that
she's pleased her lover.
     At that moment the front doorbell rings, and Cleo walks off
to answer. When Cleo returns, she has Susan with her, Susan the
tall college girl with dark blonde hair and a sultry beauty that
Valerie immediately finds threatening.
     "This is Susan," Cleo says, her eyes amused as she
introduces them to each other.
     Of course Susan's eyes are wide as she takes in Valerie's
getup, the blouse and the stockings and heels and the exposed
cunt. Susan wears long silver earrings and heels and a dress that
Cleo wants removed at once. "Take it off," Cleo says, waving her
hand at Susan in a way that makes Valerie understand that Susan
is accustomed to taking such orders from Cleo.
     Susan undresses without a word, unbuttoning her dress and
then pulling it off her body with a single smooth movement. Under
the dress, she wears only a white garter belt to hold up her
stockings. Her pussy is shaved, the mound bald and shining, the
upper part of her slit just visible between the plump outer lips.
     "What do you think of her?" Cleo says to Valerie.
     "She's beautiful," Valerie says.
     Cleo laughs. "Oh, she's beautiful, all right. And she's also
hot. Beautiful and hot." Cleo beckons to Susan, and when the girl
comes forward, Cleo slides a hand between Susan's thighs to
finger her bald cunt. When she pulls the fingers away, they
glisten with Susan's juices, and with a laugh Cleo lifts her hand
to Susan's mouth and she makes Susan lick her fingers clean. "See
that? Do you see how hot she is?"

                          *     *     *

     In the bedroom, Cleo lies in the center of the bed with
Susan and Valerie on each side of her and Cleo's arms around
their shoulders. Susan lies on Cleo's right and Valerie on Cleo's
left. Valerie has removed her blouse, but she still wears her
stockings and heels. Susan wears what she wore in the living
room, the white garter belt, beige stockings and dainty Italian
pumps. Cleo has removed most of her clothes and she now wears
only a white teeshirt.
     The window shade is down, the room in gray shadows, the
bodies on the bed almost indistinct. From the stereo in the
living room, comes the voice of Carey Wilson singing a plaintive
love song.
     Cleo now pushes at Susan's head, and Susan obediently slides
her body downward on the bed, downward until Cleo is able to lift
her right leg and hook her knee over Susan's shoulder. After
shifting her body again, Susan gets her face between Cleo's open
thighs and she begins sucking Cleo's cunt.
     Cleo murmurs something, or is it merely a chuckle of
happiness? She grips Valerie's shoulder more firmly, pulling
Valerie toward her and kissing Valerie's mouth. Valerie moans
against Cleo's lips. Then Cleo releases Valerie, and again
Valerie gazes down to watch Susan as she eats Cleo's cunt.
     Susan's eyes are closed, her nose buried in Cleo's blonde
bush, her face sliding from side to side as she uses her mouth to
massage Cleo's sex.
     Valerie feels an intense excitement as she watches it. Susan
is obviously hungry, her eyes closed, her mouth sucking
ravenously at Cleo's upward tilted cunt. Does Cleo love Susan?
Valerie realizes how jealous she is. She has such an enormous
desire to please Cleo, and here she is watching another girl with
her face between Cleo's legs. She wonders about Susan, wonders
why Susan is so submissive. So far she and Susan have said hardly
more than a few words to each other.
     Cleo makes Susan stop what she's doing. She pushes Susan
away with her foot and she tells Valerie to get over her. She
wants Valerie straddling her on all fours so she can get at
Valerie's hanging breasts. Valerie does it, groaning as Cleo
takes her dangling breasts in her hands, then shuddering with
delight as Cleo orders Susan to get behind Valerie and do her
ass. "Rim her," Cleo orders, and the next moment Valerie squeals
with happiness as she feels Susan's face pressing against her ass
and Susan's tongue licking at her anus.

                          *     *     *

     The afternoon light has faded completely, and in Cleo's
bedroom a small lamp is now lit. The three women are still on the
bed, but Cleo is now lying on her right side while both Valerie
and Susan lie with their heads toward Cleo's feet. Susan lies
behind Cleo with her face pushing between Cleo's buttocks.
Valerie is on the other side, her mouth occupied with Cleo's cunt
while Susan pays homage to Cleo's ass.
     Muttering softly, Cleo slowly moves her loins backward and
forward against the two mouths.
     Valerie adores it. She loves the heady nectar flowing out of
Cleo's cunt. At intervals her forehead touches Susan's forehead,
making Valerie more aware of Susan's presence, Susan's tongue so
close at the other opening, the sucking sounds made by Susan's
lips.
     But Valerie is also afraid. She's afraid Cleo will make her
as submissive as Susan, make her a body slave like sweet Susan.
Is it possible? Valerie shudders as she listens to the sucking
sounds made by Susan's lips.



                         EIGHT: FRANKIE

     At three o'clock in the afternoon in a large downtown
auditorium, the Illinois Bar Association gathers to honor one of
its own. Frankie arrives early and she decides to take a seat up
front. She hopes maybe sitting near the dais will force her to
keep her eyes open. These gatherings of attorneys are a
professional necessity, but always so insufferably boring. Is
there anything more boring than a pontificating attorney?
     Gradually, the seats in the auditorium begin to be occupied,
blue and gray suits worn by both the men and the women, an
occasional flamboyant sport jacket adorning a flamboyant trial
lawyer. As the noise in the room increases, Frankie opens the New
York Times to read about the latest Wall Street scandal. She
hopes the paper will screen her from old law school acquaintances
she has no desire to meet again.
     When the meeting begins, Frankie puts the newspaper away and
she listens to a succession of speakers reviewing significant
local events in the legal profession. Frankie takes notes because
she likes to have a record of who talked about what at these
meetings. The high point of the afternoon is the bestowing of a
career award on an old teacher of Frankie's, Judge Elwood Beale.
Frankie has little interest even in this event, except that when
Judge Beale is called to the dais, he is assisted by a stunning
young blonde whose beauty and grace produce a quickening of
Frankie's pulse. Who is she? Frankie finds the young woman an
incitement to lust, fantasy, a sharp quivering in her belly. Is
she so sexually bereft that she needs to respond like this to any
attractive female? No, this one is something special, a rarity,
tall, long-boned, a perfect face with high cheekbones, a wide
mouth painted a light pink. The blonde is ravishing, a delight
for the eyes. She assists Judge Beale to the podium, and then she
sits on a nearby chair as if to watch over him. Who is she?
Frankie only half listens to the judge's words as he begins
speaking in a slow hoarse voice. Her attention is instead fixed
on the blonde, on the blonde's face, her classic beige dress, the
lines of her lovely legs in beige hose, the delicate shoes with
modest heels. She's past thirty but not more than thirty-five, a
blooming young woman with an appearance of an intense vitality.
And as Frankie stares at her, the young woman finally turns her
head to look at Frankie. Not a glance, but a look, a long look, a
meeting of the eyes, a contact both electric and definite.
     Oh yes, Frankie thinks. She has a sudden desire to throw
herself on the dais and find the blonde's cunt with her mouth. Oh
yes indeed.
     The judge speaks only briefly, graciously accepting the
award with an amusing story about his youth in law school. When
he finishes, the attorneys in the audience applaud with gusto,
happy one of their own has been honored, happy the dull meeting
is at last finished. Frankie immediately leaves her seat and she
goes to the dais to greet her old teacher.
     Judge Beale doesn't recognize her at first, and then his
eyes turn wide and bright and he says: "Ah, Frances Hooper, how
are you?"
     Frankie chats with the old judge, and before long the judge
turns to the blonde young woman. "Alison, meet Frances Hooper,
one of my best students. Frances, this is my daughter."
     Frankie's mission is accomplished, the introduction
achieved. The blonde's name is Alison and she's the judge's
daughter. How marvelous.
     "Hooper?" the blonde says. "I know a tennis coach named
Sally Hooper."
     "A distant cousin."
     The blonde smiles. "How nice."
     More talk. Frankie helps Alison get the old judge off the
dais. Other attorneys are approaching now, the judge shaking
hands, nodding at old friends.
     Frankie looks at Alison and asks if Alison is an attorney.
     "Oh no," Alison says. "I was a bad girl and I avoided law
school. I'm in advertising."
     She runs a small agency specializing in fashion. Frankie is
impressed, more interested than ever, almost quivering with a
need to know her better.
     But before long it's time to leave, and sanity requires a
polite exit.
     "Well, goodby," Frankie says.
     Alison smiles. "Thanks for helping me with Dad."

                          *     *     *

     An hour later Frankie sits in her office in a state of
distraction. She can't think of anything but the blonde, the
judge's daughter, the blonde Alison Beale. Behind Frankie, the
law books catch the light of the dying western sun. Her desk is
huge, uncluttered because she hates a cluttered desk. The two
large windows overlook the western part of the city, the
sprawling avenues that go on and on to the far horizon. On most
afternoons she enjoys watching the sun make its descent, the
orange sky, the first lights of the city twinkling in the dusk.
But this afternoon all she thinks about is Alison Beale.
     At last, with a sigh, Frankie reaches for the phone book on
the shelf behind her and she flips the pages to find the Beales.
Beale and Beale and Beale. And finally Alison Beale and two
listed phone numbers, one residential and the other a downtown
office. Frankie calls the office number, and she feels a wave of
happiness when she's put through immediately to Alison Beale.
     "I thought we might have lunch sometime," Frankie says.
     And on the other end of the line, Alison Beale says yes,
she'd like that, she'd like that very much.
     They agree on a day and a place, and when Frankie puts the
phone down she looks at the instrument as if to recognize for the
first time what a definite miracle it is.
     Alison Beale will have lunch with her in a few days.
     Frankie quivers, a sudden heat rising in her belly, a sudden
uncontrolled passion for a woman hardly met and hardly known. Not
known at all, really. Is it merely a woman she wants? Is that it?
Giddy with her success at connecting with Alison, Frankie
abruptly decides on a lark. Yes, why not? Oh my yes, she thinks,
what a lovely idea.

                          *     *     *

     It's almost five o'clock when Frankie enters the lobby of
the North Michigan Avenue hotel. Valerie has already been
notified not to expect Frankie home until eight or nine, and the
hotel has already been contacted to provide a room for the
evening. And so when Frankie approaches the desk and gives her
name, the arrangements require no more than five minutes, and
after that she has her key and a pleasant smile from the desk
clerk as he says, "Have a nice stay, Ms. Hooper."
     Upstairs in the room, Frankie calls down to order a bottle
of chilled Chablis, and then she makes another call to a number
outside the hotel, holding a credit card in her hand as she
speaks softly into the telephone with her eyes on the window
looking north along the busy boulevard. In a few moments the
phone is down again, and Frankie sighs as she lies back on the
bed thinking well, it's done, so stop worrying about whether you
ought to do it because you've already done it. What she feels now
is a marvelous tingling anticipation. She tells herself this is
one way, at least, not to think about Alison Beale.
     The wine arrives. After the hotel porter leaves, Frankie
draws the drapes across the window and she pours herself a glass
of cool Chablis. She feels good now, much much better. More
settled. The anticipation is still there, the boiling under the
surface, but she has the lid on enough to keep her mind clear.
     Time passes. As she finishes the second glass of wine,
someone knocks on the door.
     Frankie goes to the door and opens it, and there stands a
thin blonde in a red dress, a string of Italian beads around her
neck, a large leather shoulder bag, charcoal stockings and black
heels.
     The girl smiles at Frankie. "Hi, I'm Carol."
     Frankie holds the door open as the girl walks past her and
into the room. After Frankie closes and locks the door, she
follows the girl and says: "Would you like some wine?"
     "Sure, thanks."
     Frankie pours the wine as the girl drops her purse on one of
the chairs near the window. As she hands the glass to the girl,
Frankie says, "I'm glad you could make it so quickly."
     The girl smiles. "I never lose any time when they tell me
it's a woman."
     Frankie chuckles. As she sips the wine, she looks the blonde
over from head to toe. "You're very attractive," Frankie says.
     The girl smiles again, sits on one of the two easy chairs
and crosses her long legs. "What would you like me to call you?"
     "Frankie."
     "Hi, Frankie. Gee, this wine is good. I'm glad it's wine and
not something stronger. Sometimes I just drink too much."
     "That's not good for you."
     "I guess not. Would you like me to get more comfortable? You
just tell me what you want. Suppose I take my dress off."
     Frankie nods. "All right, go on and do that."
     Apparently happy, the blonde puts her wine glass on the
table beside her chair and she rises. She weaves her hips from
side to side as she begins unbuttoning the row of small white
buttons down the front of her dress. "I can tell we're going to
have a good time," the girl says.
     "How can you tell?"
     "Just instinct, I guess. I just look at you and I know it.
Sometimes I get these phony old bitches and they're so dull. They
don't know what they want or if they want it or whatever. Am I
talking too much? Just tell me and I'll stop."
     "No, it's all right."
     But Frankie has no interest in the blonde's account of her
experiences. She watches the girl as she slips out of the red
dress. Carol now shows a red lace bra and panty set, and a red
lace garter belt with long straps to hold up her charcoal
stockings. The girl does a turn to exhibit her body, and when she
faces Frankie again she giggles as she casually cups her crotch
with her hand.
     "Getting undressed for a woman always turns me on." Then
Carol sits down again, crosses her legs and lifts her wine glass,
sips her wine and then uncrosses her legs and leaves them open.
Her crotch is revealed, still covered by the panties, but the
plumpness of the mound evident.
     Frankie's need is to be gruff, to emphasize the imbalance.
She's paying for it, isn't she? If she wanted a romantic
interlude, false as it might be, she could easily find one in a
girl-bar. No, this is something different, an amusement
requiring no commitment. And all because of Alison Beale, because
if it hadn't been for that blonde Alison the little demons in
Frankie's head would never have been allowed their voice.
     "Show me the tits," Frankie says.
     Carol blushes, aware that Frankie is suddenly the butch she
appears to be in the first place. After placing her wine glass on
the table, Carol unsnaps the front of the skimpy bra and she gets
rid of it completely. She pulls her shoulders back to emphasize
her small breasts, but she has hardly enough there to make a
display. This annoys Frankie, who would rather have a girl with
breasts than a girl without breasts, but then of course it's her
own fault for not asking for it on the telephone.
     Maybe Carol is aware of it. With an artful attempt to
compensate by deliberately calling attention to herself, Carol
takes her pinkish nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and
she pulls them outward. "I'm not very big in the tit department."
Then she slides a hand between her legs, her fingers tugging at
the crotch of her panties, and she gives Frankie a coy look.
"Should I take these off?"
     Frankie takes in the offering. Carol's fingers have pulled
enough of the panty-crotch aside to reveal part of her sex,
almost all of the left outer lip, puffy, hairless, and definitely
more interesting than her breasts.
     Frankie nods. Yes, she'll have a look at the cunt now. She
sips her wine as Carol hurriedly raises her hips and slides the
panties down her thighs and off her stocking-clad legs. For a
moment, the panties are caught on a stiletto heel, but finally
they're free and Carol drops them on the table on top of her
discarded bra.
     Now when the blonde opens her legs, her shaved cunt is
visible, a ripe looking fig split by the pinkish-brown stripe of
the closed inner lips. Without waiting for Frankie to ask for it,
Carol sensuously glides her fingers down to pry apart the short
wattles.
     "You're making me hot," Carol says, her voice sultry.
     Is it feigned? Frankie has no idea. For the moment her
attention is fixed on the displayed cunt. She asked for a blonde
and a blonde is what they sent her. Now the question is how
closely this blonde cunt resembles the blonde cunt of Alison
Beale. Are they similar? Stupid games, Frankie thinks. She tells
herself to forget about Alison for the time being and concentrate
on the moment.
     Frankie rises, making a gesture to get Carol to do the same.
When Carol stands, Frankie makes another gesture with her hand
and Carol smiles and slowly turns to show her ass. The buttocks
are full, round, pale white, framed by the red garter belt and
the red garter straps and the tops of the charcoal stockings.
Frankie moves forward to place the flat of her right hand on the
split between the two buttocks, her finger sliding down, curling
in to find the hairless lips of girl's vulva.
     Carol makes a whimpering sound of delight as she moves her
legs apart and then bends forward a bit from her waist. "Hey, I
like you."
     Frankie's left hand moves to Carol's belly, and then upward
to close over one of Carol's small breasts. "Bend forward some
more."
     Carol bends. Frankie helps by pulling on the breast she
holds with her hand, pulling it down until Carol is now bent
forward enough so she needs to position her hands on her thighs
to balance herself. About to say something, Carol suddenly moans
as she feels Frankie's fingers penetrate her cunt from behind.
     Frankie now shifts her body backward a bit, so she's now
more directly behind Carol, her left hand still holding one of
Carol's breasts while the fingers of her right hand pierce the
opening of Carol's vagina. Pinching the blonde's nipple between
her thumb and forefinger as she continues to hold the breast,
Frankie starts fucking the blonde with the fingers of her right
hand.
     Carol groans. Now there is no question of artifice. The
groan is definitely not feigned. The blonde hips are weaving
slowly from side to side as Frankie's two fingers slide in and
out of her wet opening.
     "Oh baby, fuck me," Carol says with a whimper.
     And for the next half hour, Frankie does exactly that, two
fingers and then three fingers and then two fingers again, until
her wrist is tired, her mind exhausted and she wants nothing more
of the silly blonde and her swollen little cunt. Frankie sends
her away without ever removing her own clothes. Later, in the
hotel bathroom, Frankie masturbates in the shower with a bar of
soap as she thinks of Alison Beale again.



                          NINE: VALERIE

     Valerie is preparing herself. She has the blinds open, the
sunlight in the room to make it easier to see her face in the
mirror as she applies the makeup. Except for the thigh-high
stockings with elastic tops, she's naked, but the stockings are
temporary because she hasn't yet decided to wear these or another
pair. These stockings are a cool blue-grey, and she isn't certain
about the color. Maybe Cleo won't like them. Maybe plain beige
would be best. Cleo said dress up, and so Valerie is doing that,
but without any certainty that what she's doing will meet with
Cleo's approval. Poor little baby, Valerie thinks. Her lipstick
is a pinkish red, carefully applied to the outline of her lips,
greasy enough to make her lower lip shine seductively. The shade
is new, deliberately chosen in accordance with Cleo's declaration
that a woman's lipstick ought to be the same shade as the color
of her sex lips. And so Valerie passed a serious time at the Saks
cosmetics counter attempting to match the color of her petals.
Not too easy, since she's never been that good with colors. She
thought of taking a dozen lipstick tubes into a dressing room
somewhere to make a match, but the idea seemed unworkable.
     After she finishes the makeup, she preens a bit in front of
the full length mirror attached to the door of the bathroom. She
stands in front of the mirror and she turns her body to look at
her profile, her breasts and belly and ass and legs in the blue-
grey stockings. Now she wants a pair of heels, and she hurries to
closet to find her blue-grey suede sandals. Yes, they're perfect,
and after she has the straps buckled she prances back to the
mirror to see the full effect again, her body now lifted four
inches by the high heels, the muscles in her calves more
prominent, her legs more curvaceous.
     After that she dresses in bikini lace panties and a lace bra
sheer enough to show her nipples. Both bra and panties are blue
because Cleo likes her in blue. Valerie thinks she looks better
in red or black underwear, but if Cleo wants blue, Cleo gets
blue. Valerie doesn't mind it, she's thrilled she has a lover who
cares about the color of her underwear.
     She chooses a white dress, knee-length with spaghetti
shoulder straps, a tucked bodice and a flaring pleated skirt. A
necklace of small white pearls and small pearl earrings complete
the ensemble. You're not bad, she thinks. She tells herself she
looks good today. Her face looks rested and she has an attractive
flush in her cheeks because of the excitement she feels about her
date with Cleo. Then she has a sudden worry she'll get wet
thinking about Cleo and she doesn't want that because she might
lose control and masturbate and she might get sweaty enough to
ruin her makeup. No not now, she thinks. Fearful another moment
in front of the mirror will make her too hot, she grabs a small
white purse and she hurries out of the apartment.

                          *     *     *

     "I like the dress," Cleo says, turning her attention from
the traffic to smile at Valerie.
     Cleo is driving her black Trans Am, and now they're rolling
west on Addison. Valerie has no idea what the destination is, a
friend of Cleo's, a house somewhere, maybe an afternoon party of
some kind.
     Cleo extends her right hand to stroke Valerie's knee. She
continues driving like that, her left hand on the wheel and her
right hand on Valerie's knee. Then Cleo's fingers gather the hem
of Valerie's white dress, and she pulls the dress back far enough
to reveal the top of one stocking and a garter attachment.
     "Blue garter belt," Cleo says with a soft laugh.
     "You told me you like blue."
     "That's right, doll." Cleo's fingers tickle Valerie's thigh
above the top of the stocking, and then the fingers slide toward
Valerie's belly dragging the hem of the dress with them.
     Valerie groans. "Cleo, someone will see us."
     Cleo glances down at the edge of the exposed blue panties,
her fingers now finding the wetness in the crotch. "Hey, you're
gushing," Cleo says with a chuckle. She tugs at the edge of the
panties to release a tuft of Valerie's dark pubic hair.
     Valerie groans again, closing her eyes, relinquishing any
attempt to caution Cleo about passing cars or the people in the
street. So what if anyone see them. People see worse these days.
     Cleo has her fingers under the nylon now, her middle finger
gently stroking the shaft of Valerie's clitoris, prodding it from
side to side as they continue rolling west on Addison. It's not
enough to make Valerie come, but it's enough to drive her crazy
and Cleo knows it.
     Cleo says: "Slide forward a little."
     "You'll get us in trouble, Cleo."
     "Slide forward, honey."
     Valerie does it. She slides her hips forward on the seat,
which makes it possible for Cleo to get her middle finger inside
her vagina. Cleo stirs the finger around in the wetness, and then
finally she pulls her hand away and she brings it back to her
mouth to taste Valerie's syrup.
     "Sweet doll."
     Valerie groans. "Oh Cleo, I love you."
     "Give me the panties. Take them off and give them to me."
     Quivering, Valerie gets her hands underneath her dress and
she lifts her hips and then slides the panties down her thighs
and off her legs. When she hands the wisp of blue nylon to Cleo,
the firm-jawed blonde immediately brings the panties to her face
to sniff the crotch.
     "Valerie's little rose garden," Cleo says with a laugh. "I
love it."

                          *     *     *

     They walk into a small clapboard house on a quiet
residential street near Western Avenue. In the front hallway,
voices can be heard from somewhere. Cleo seems to know the house
well, and she leads Valerie along the hall to an open doorway and
into a large living room.
     Four women are in the room, sprawled in various places, on
the sofa, on the chairs, one woman on the rug. As Cleo and
Valerie enter the room, the four women stop talking and look up
at them.
     "Hey, how's it going?" Cleo says. "This is Valerie."
     Of the four women, two are obviously butch, one a
heavyweight bruiser. The two femmes are blondes in their
thirties, curled hair and heavily made up faces and red lipstick.
One of them has her blouse unbuttoned down to the waist of her
skirt, a white lace bra visible in the opening.
     All the women look at Valerie, who manages a weak hello as
she stands there under scrutiny during an awkward moment.
     Finally the scrutiny ends and the two newcomers are
welcomed, offered a drink and told where to find it.
     The heavyweight dyke goes by the name of Brady, and it
appears the house is hers. "I guess we're all here, so I'm
locking the front door," Brady says. She gives Valerie a long
look, her eyes lingering on Valerie's breasts and then dropping
down to glance at Valerie's shoes. This deliberately sexual look
makes Valerie quiver, and she immediately turns away to find Cleo
and sit beside her on the sofa.
     Someone switches on the stereo, a wild song by Ina Morgan.
Valerie sips her wine as she watches and listens to the others.
She thinks the two femmes aren't as pretty as she is and she's
grateful for it. She hates being at a party and hardly knowing
anyone, but at least she can feel confident about her looks. The
two femmes could almost be sisters, except that one is much
taller and probably a real blonde while the other one looks
bleached. Valerie isn't certain yet if the femmes and butches are
permanently coupled. Sometimes you think it's a couple and then
it turns out it's just a casual date. Anyway, what's the
difference? she thinks. For the moment, all that really concerns
her is keeping her dress down because Cleo has her panties in her
pocket.
     The other butch is Ricky, and now Ricky says: "Hey, Doreen,
how come you're not dancing?"
     Doreen is the smaller blonde. She smirks as she gets to her
feet. She gives Valerie a cool glance, and then she snaps her
fingers and she starts dancing.
     Valerie is surprised because Doreen is actually good at it,
a smooth dancer with a willowy body. She's wearing a tight skirt
and heels, but she still manages to move with abandon to the
heavy beat of the music.
     Then after a while Cleo calls out: "Give us the mogambo."
     And Ricky agrees. "Yeah, the mogambo, baby."
     Valerie has no idea what the mogambo is, but Doreen is now
smiling as she begins unbuttoning the front of her blouse while
she continues dancing. She moves her hips and legs and shoulders
as she slowly undoes one button after the other.
     Valerie soon understands the intention, and she feels a
quickening of her pulse as she leans against Cleo shoulder and
watches the blonde. The room feels like a hothouse now, and
Valerie is worried about her lack of panties, worried she'll
stain her dress. Then she tells herself the hell with it and she
sips more of her wine.
     Doreen gets the blouse off, and Valerie is shocked when she
sees the low-slung breasts captured by a bra with its tips cut
away to expose the nipples. The lewd exposure of Doreen's brown
nipples seems to electrify everyone, and in response to that
Doreen sways her hips and smiles and then pulls her nipples out
with her fingertips.
     Luanne, the other blonde, now slides into Brady's lap and
she giggles as Brady squeezes one of her breasts through her
dress.
     Valerie trembles as she feels Cleo's hand sliding between
her knees. She wants to tell Cleo to stop but her body wants
something else. With a soft moan against Cleo's shoulder, she
opens her legs wider to give Cleo's hand more room.
     Doreen is now dropping her skirt. She's wearing a garter
belt and stockings and crotchless panties, the cutaway crotch a
suitable complement to the cutaway bra, her pubic hair bulging
through the open crotch like a dark forest. She tosses the skirt
away, and after a mocking glance in Valerie's direction, she
starts dancing again.
     Cleo now turns to Valerie, and she kisses Valerie's mouth.
"Remember what you promised?"
     Valerie shudders. "Do they know?"
     Cleo chuckles. "Sure they know. That's what the party is all
about."
     With a groan, Valerie closes her eyes. "Oh Cleo, I don't
know . . . "
     "Why don't you get up and dance for us? You've got a better
body than that bitch Doreen."
     "I don't know if I'm up to this."
     But she gets up and she moves forward. Brady and Ricky
immediately start clapping when they see Valerie's intention.
Still dancing, Doreen looks up and down at Valerie before moving
aside to make room for her.
     Valerie starts dancing. She moves easily to the music, aware
of all the eyes on her, especially Cleo's eyes. Then she tunes
the others out and she concentrates on Cleo. She dances only for
Cleo. She keeps her eyes on Cleo as she begins unbuttoning the
front of her dress. Someone claps as she slips the spaghetti
straps off her shoulders one after the other. They clap again as
she pushes the dress downward past her hips. Brady curses when it
becomes evident Valerie isn't wearing panties. Valerie drops the
dress completely, her dark thicket exposed at the joining of her
thighs. She steps out of the dress, her legs sleek in the blue-
grey stockings, and then, as she faces Cleo, she cups a hand over
her crotch as she continues dancing.
     Ricky laughs, says something to Cleo, and then she gets up
and she starts dancing opposite Valerie. They dance facing each
other, and Valerie blushes as she see Ricky's eyes drop to her
mound. Valerie gasps as Ricky reaches out to touch her. She looks
at Cleo, but Cleo is only smiling and nodding and telling her
it's all right. Too late now, anyway. Ricky already has her
middle finger hooked inside Valerie's cunt, Valerie hooked on the
finger as they continue dancing together.
     Before long the other women rise one after the other until
all are dancing near Valerie. For the first time, Valerie notices
that Luanne has her clothes off, everything stripped off except a
single gold bracelet around her left wrist. Luanne seems far away
as she dances, as if she's in her own dream world.
     Brady takes Ricky's place in front of Valerie, and when the
massive woman extends her thick fingers to probe Valerie's cunt,
Valerie closes her eyes as she humps her pelvis backward and
forward. She tells herself Cleo wants it. She's doing this for
Cleo. This and what will happen later. It's what will happen
later that really frightens her. She doesn't mind Brady's finger
inside her cunt. The big woman is as strong as an ox and she
knows how to use her finger in there. Before long Brady pulls her
finger out of Valerie's cunt and she smiles at Valerie before she
licks it clean.
     "Hey, Luanne, come here," Brady says, and when tall Luanne
wiggles across the rug to her lover, Brady slides her hand over
Luanne's ass and pushes her wet finger between Luanne's buttocks.
Luanne groans and closes her eyes as she gets Brady's finger in
her ass. Valerie can't see it, but she knows what's happening and
her heart pounds as she watches it.

                          *     *     *

     Valerie lies on her back across the bed with two women on
either side of her, Brady and Luanne on one side and Ricky and
Doreen on the other side. Cleo stands at the side of the bed
between Valerie's feet with a can of Crisco in her hands.
     "Put your knees up," Cleo says.
     Valerie puts her knees up, keeping them well apart, her cunt
now exposed completely to everyone, but especially to Cleo as she
stands in front of Valerie looking down at her.
     Cleo talks about the Crisco as she starts smearing it on her
right hand. She says the nice thing about Crisco is that it
washes out easily. All it takes is a single douche to get all of
it washed away.
     Valerie listens, but she's still afraid. She's also rattled
by the presence of the four other women. Brady now has a hand on
one of Valerie's breasts, her thick fingers teasing the nipple.
Valerie is still puzzled by the arrangement here, who belongs to
whom, and why does Cleo allow her friends to touch her so much?
All that fingering while they were dancing. She gets jealous each
time she sees Cleo touch one of the other femmes.
     Cleo now reaches down to touch Valerie's cunt with her
greased hand. "Start relaxing, doll."
     Her knees up, Valerie trembles as she waits for it. She
wonders what Frankie would say if she saw her now. Frankie would
scream. The image of Frankie screaming at her makes Valerie
giggle. Cleo thinks it's because she's tickling Valerie, and the
blonde immediately works another finger inside Valerie's cunt.
She has four fingers in the opening now. In another moment she
folds her thumb into the other fingers and she starts the full
penetration. When she gets to the knuckle hurdle, she pushes
firmly. "Relax, doll."
     Valerie feels it. She feel the whole hand going in and it
makes her crazy with excitement. She feels Cleo clench and
unclench her fist and it drives her wild. She looks at Cleo and
she sees Cleo smiling.
     "See, I told you it was easy," Cleo says.
     Valerie groans and she looks at the others watching her,
watching Cleo's wrist, watching Cleo fucking her with her fist.
     This is serious, Valerie thinks. This is serious fucking. Oh
my yes.


                          TEN: FRANKIE

     "I hope you like the salad," Alison says.
     They are sitting in the small dining room of Alison's
apartment. Alison called Frankie at her office in the morning to
ask if they could have lunch in Alison's apartment instead of in
a restaurant. Frankie, of course, agreed immediately, delighted
by the promise of a more intimate setting.
     And now Frankie is even more delighted because Alison
appears so receptive to a friendship.
     This is Alison's lunch, prepared by Alison, a lovely salad,
fish, white wine, an elegant table set near a wide window
overlooking Lake Michigan. Alison wears a becoming beige silk
dress, casual and at the same time chic. Frankie wears a tailored
suit and a red string tie. The afternoon sun is brilliant on the
lake, but since the windows face east the sun is not directly in
the room.
     Frankie feels as though she's falling in love. She gazes at
Alison's face, at the curves of Alison's breasts in the silk
dress, at Alison's hands, then again at Alison's lightly painted
mouth. Frankie tells herself Alison is perfect, a stunning
creature, unbelievably exciting. What a miracle to meet such a
woman at a gathering of lawyers!
     Frankie says: "The salad is delicious. And the view is
lovely."
     "Yes, the lake is pretty, isn't it?"
     "I meant another view. I meant the view across the table."
     Alison blushes, but it's only a slight blush, and she has no
trouble meeting Frankie's eyes as she says: "Were you surprised
that I suggested we have lunch here?"
     "Yes, I was."
     "I thought I'd like to prepare a lunch for you. I don't do
it often, but I thought I'd like it."
     "And do you?"
     Alison laughs. "Yes, very much."
     "Good."
     "Now I'll ask a personal question. Do you live alone?"
     "No, I'm living with someone. Her name is Valerie and we've
been together almost two years."
     Alison seems unruffled, her eyes once again meeting
Frankie's. "All right, I won't ask any more questions."
     "Don't be silly, I don't mind it."
     But Alison rises and she goes to the kitchen. When she
returns, she says: "Before I moved into this apartment, I lived
with a woman nearly three months."
     "Do you still see her?"
     Alison shakes her head. "She's in Paris. She's French. She
was here at the consulate. No, it's finished. It was never meant
to be anything anyway. I'm telling you about it because I want
you to know there was nothing before it and nothing after it. I'm
not very experienced, you see."

                          *     *     *

     They stand at the window. Alison faces the lake, and Frankie
stands beside her with her head turned as she kisses Alison's
ear. The kiss is light, grazing, indefinite. Now Frankie's left
arm slides around Alison's waist, and she moves behind her to
kiss the side of her neck. Alison shivers, but she does not pull
away. Frankie kisses her neck again, a longer kiss, her wet lips
sliding down to the soft place where Alison's neck joins her
shoulder.
     Now Alison shifts her body to the side as if to pull away.
As she does this, she turns her head toward Frankie and Frankie
immediately kisses her mouth.
     The kiss seems to freeze Alison, and her body remains
motionless as their lips press together. Frankie's mouth is open,
her tongue mobile, aggressive, pushing between Alison's lips as
Alison gradually yields to the kiss. Frankie's hand now slides
upward to gently stroke Alison's breasts through the front of her
silk dress. Alison moans against Frankie's mouth, her body
bending backward against the support of Frankie's left arm.
     Her hand leaving Alison's breasts, Frankie slips a shoulder
strap down over Alison's shoulder. She does the same to the other
shoulder strap, the front of the dress falling, Frankie's fingers
tugging the silk downward until the lace cups of Alison's white
bra are exposed, the cups almost demi-cups, the naked upper part
of each breast offered up like a ripe fruit. Frankie frees
Alison's left breast completely, and she bends her head to take
the full pink nipple in her mouth.
     Alison makes a sound of pleasure in her throat. She lifts
her head back as Frankie takes her breast. Frankie sucks at the
nipple, flutters her tongue over it. At the same time she gathers
the front of Alison's silk dress with her right hand and she
quickly raises it and she slides her hand between Alison's
thighs. The blonde moans again, and then her legs part and
Frankie's fingers glide into the warm crotch of Alison's
pantyhose.
     Anxious to get beyond the first crisis, Frankie is insistent
with her hand. Of course the reinforced nylon crotch of the
pantyhose is a nuisance, but she does her best with it, her
fingers rubbing everywhere over the lush vulva until she's able
to find the top of the groove and then finally the stiff little
promontory of Alison's clitoris. At this moment there is no time
for niceties, and so Frankie uses her hand to rub all of Alison's
cunt without favoring any part of it, a vigorous and relentless
rubbing that soon has Alison gasping as she comes against
Frankie's palm.
     Frankie is thrilled at the gushing wetness of Alison's cunt,
the total yielding. Her hand remaining cupped over Alison's
crotch, Frankie waits until the orgasm is finished before she
says: "Let's go to the bedroom."
     Alison opens her eyes, groaning. "Frankie, please..."
     Frankie tells Alison she wants to suck her, but Alison
pleads no, she's had enough for now, it's not possible.
     "That's absurd," Frankie says.
     But Alison insists. She's expecting a business associate.
She can't take any more now anyway. She promises to see Frankie
again soon. "I promise," she says.
     After a while Frankie leaves her.
     In the elevator, Frankie sniffs at her fingers and she
almost has an orgasm as she catches Alison's scent.

                          *     *     *

     Midnight.
     Frankie lies in the bed in the dark.
     She has her knees up under the sheet, her eyes open as she
peers through the darkness at the ceiling. Her body feels sweaty,
her pubic hair damp. Valerie is asleep beside her, turned on her
side, her back to Frankie.
     Frankie thinks about Alison. She feels a sudden burst of
sexual heat in her belly as she remembers what happened with
Alison in Alison's living room. She recalls the feel of Alison's
breasts in her hands, the spongy stiffness of Alison's nipples in
her mouth. Dropping her knees, Frankie crosses her legs and she
flexes her thigh muscles to apply pressure against cunt. No, it's
no good. She raises her knees again, shifting her buttocks on the
bed.
     The most exciting memory is the memory of Alison's cunt
responding to her fingers. And Alison's long blonde eyelashes as
she kept her eyes closed. Frankie remembers the sweetness of her
victory as she watched Alison come, as she watched Alison's lips
open, Alison exposed.
     The memories have now aroused Frankie to an unbearable
restlessness. She continues to evoke erotic images as she slides
a hand between her legs. But no matter how vulnerable Alison
seemed at the moment of her orgasm, she is still an enigma to
Frankie, a mystery unfathomed.
     Frankie finds her clitoris and she slowly rubs it. She
stifles a soft groan as Valerie continues sleeping beside her.
The hot desire in Frankie's belly demands its due. She rubs her
clitoris with her fingers, applying more pressure as the orgasm
approaches.
     You're lost, she thinks. She understands she hasn't a
glimmer of reality about Alison. Her mind is filled with Alison,
filled to a point of bursting. All she can think of is Alison's
wet cunt.
     Frankie comes. She does her best to control the shaking of
her body as a fury of passion overwhelms her.
     Valerie sleeps on.

                          *     *     *

     Frankie is in the bathtub.
     It's nine o'clock in the evening and she's having a bath
after a long day at court. Her body is extended, soaking in the
warm water. Earlier, Valerie seemed puzzled by Frankie's fatigue
and suggested that Frankie might be sick. But Frankie replied she
was only tired.
     At this moment Frankie feels the bathroom is a refuge. Poor
Valerie. How awful it must be to live with me, Frankie thinks.
Does Valerie understand anything at all about her? What she
thinks, why she does certain things? Frankie strokes her body
under the water, the firm flesh of her thighs. She looks at her
hands, at the slender fingers that she wishes were stronger. She
has always wanted to be physically strong.
     The air in the bathroom is filled with moisture, the light
in the ceiling scintillating through the mist. Frankie wipes away
the sweat that has gathered on the bridge of her nose. She has a
sudden memory of Alison's ass in that silk dress she wore when
they had lunch, Alison's buttocks shimmering under the silk as
she walked back and forth between the kitchen and the dining
room. Frankie is annoyed because so little really happened that
day, not as much as she wanted, not as much as she'd imagined.
She'd had hot fantasies about the first time with Alison, searing
images of herself doing things to Alison, kissing her everywhere,
her cunt, her clitoris, her ass, rimming her little anus with the
tip of her tongue and hearing Alison cry out with pleasure.
     Frankie looks at her arms now, wondering if she ought to add
more bath oil to the water. She wipes her chin with a wet cloth.
What fascinates her about Alison is the hunt, the scheming
seduction of a woman as intelligent as herself. Oh god, how juicy
she was! Frankie quivers as she remembers Alison's wet sex
gushing on her fingertips.
     Frankie hears a knock on the bathroom door, and then
Valerie's voice. "Is it all right if I come in?"
     Frankie says yes, and the door opens and Valerie enters the
bathroom. "Aren't you wilting?" Valerie says.
     "No, I like it this way."
     Valerie sniffs at the perfumed oil in the bath. She wears a
blue robe that Frankie thinks would look better on a blonde. But
she loves Valerie, she does love her. A cherished love. She's
always happy to see Valerie's mouth spread in an open smile. She
watches Valerie as she turns to look at herself in the mirror
over the bathroom sink. The blue robe is thin enough to reveal
the shape of Valerie's buttocks, and Frankie feels a tingling in
her cunt as she remembers their last lovemaking when Valerie was
particularly responsive, her clitoris like a stiff little pod
between Frankie's lips.
     Without turning from the mirror, Valerie says: "Would you
like me to wash your back?"
     Frankie feels a sudden desire for her. "Sure, why not?"
     Valerie's turns and smiles, her happiness evident, her
pretty face reminding Frankie how perfect Valerie is for her
sometimes. So feminine. It was Valerie's easy femininity that
attracted Frankie so strongly in the beginning, her delight in
the feminine trappings, garter belts, makeup, endless jewelry.
When they met, Frankie thought Valerie a lovely young woman with
a sweet heart, breasts like ripe mangoes in her hands.
     Their eyes meet and Valerie blushes, her lower lip pouting
seductively. "I'll take my robe off so I won't get it wet."
     Frankie nods. She wants Valerie more than ever now, her
fingers itching for it as she watches Valerie pull her hair back
before slipping out of her blue robe.
     Under the robe, Valerie is quite naked. For a moment she
stands there without moving as if she's on the edge of a chasm
between them. Then finally she steps forward to approach the tub
where Frankie is half immersed in the soapy water.
     Frankie's eyes are riveted on Valerie's gently bobbing
breasts. She feels a great desire to take one of the tender
nipples in her mouth and bite it until Valerie moans.
     Now Frankie sits up in the water as Valerie crouches beside
the tub to wash her back. As Valerie slides the soap over
Frankie's shoulders, Frankie drops her right arm over the side of
the tub and she curls it around Valerie's thigh to fondle her
ass.
     Valerie giggles. "You'll make me drop the soap."
     "Darling, this was your idea."
     Frankie wants her in bed, but that can wait until later. She
slides her hand down over Valerie's ass to find Valerie's cunt
with her fingers. From long habit, she knows exactly how Valerie
needs to be opened this way, how to get the proper angle from the
rear to make penetration into the tight vaginal canal easy.
     Valerie groans. Her eyes closed, she no longer bothers
moving the soap over Frankie's back.
     "Stand up," Frankie says. "It'll be easier when you're
standing."
     Valerie rises. Her face flushed, she stands with her legs
apart as Frankie penetrates her vagina again. This time Frankie
has her thumb on Valerie's clitoris, the ball of her thumb
massaging the pearl as her fingers churn in the wet opening.
     Valerie groans. "Oh Frankie." As the orgasm approaches, she
begins moving her hips, humping her pelvis at Frankie's hand.
     Frankie gazes up at Valerie's face, watching the climax,
watching Valerie's pleasure. "Sweet pet," Frankie says. She keeps
her fingers working, thrusting, churning in the hot opening.



                         ELEVEN: FRANKIE

     Frankie waits three days before she telephones Alison. The
blonde's voice is cool, uncommitted. "I don't know about this
afternoon."
     Frankie says: "What about tomorrow?"
     "I don't know."
     "All right, forget it. I'm getting the picture."
     "No, this afternoon is all right."
     "Are you sure?"
     Alison says yes, she's sure, and they agree Frankie will
visit her at three o'clock.
     After Frankie hangs up the phone, she sits in her office
simmering with expectation, memories of her hands on Alison's
body. Maybe it's a mirage. Maybe none of it is real. Does that
lovely blonde really want her? Frankie slides a hand under her
grey flannel skirt to hold her crotch through her panty hose. She
can feel the dampness, the heat of her cunt. Alison is truly a
miracle, a vision who suddenly walked into her life, a ripe
fantasy. So ripe. Frankie tells herself she has never seen anyone
so ripe for it. She has work on her desk, but now after talking
to Alison she's unable to concentrate. She wants Alison in her
arms, the fabric of Alison's dress rubbing against her skin,
Alison's firm ass beneath her hands. That blonde skin. Frankie
quivers as she remembers the softness of Alison's breasts, the
feel of Alison's wet cunt. She remembers Alison's slender hips,
the soft curves, the pink shells of Alison's ears. Christ, you're
in love, Frankie thinks. She rises from the swivel chair and she
walks to the wall between the two windows where a small mirror is
centered on the wall. Her face looks flushed. Is it Alison or is
the room too warm? She wishes she had on a real suit instead of
this grey tailored hybrid. How nice it would be to go to Alison
in drag. The idea amuses Frankie.

                          *     *     *

     With a view of the lake in front of them, Frankie kisses
Alison.
     They stand at the window in Alison's living room, Alison
facing the lake but her head turned to accept Frankie's kiss.
Then Alison pulls away and she smiles. "You ought see the view
here at night. When the moon is full."
     "All right, I'll stay this evening."
     Alison laughs softly. "No, you can't, I'm going out this
evening. Anyhow, I don't think there's a full moon until the end
of the month."
     Frankie imagines Alison as a scamp when she was a girl,
blonde Alison mischievous and laughing. But the present moment
has more impact. Frankie kisses her again, this time her tongue
more insistent as it pushes between Alison's lips to find her
teeth. Is she wet? Frankie wants to feel the moisture with her
fingertips, but she restrains herself. No savage lust this time.
She wants more than last time, a more definite possession. She
strokes Alison's breasts through her blouse, remembering how she
nursed on Alison's nipples. The light in the living room is so
bright because of the wide windows overlooking the vast lake. And
here, in this apartment, the two women stand in their own special
world. She wants to saturate herself with Alison, feast on Alison
while Alison's nerves vibrate with happiness. She kisses Alison's
lips again. As Alison turns her body, Frankie hears the rustling
of nylon. She drops a hand to Alison's belly, feeling an
imperative need to ravish her. Alison protests with a soft laugh,
but Frankie's hand is already beneath the linen skirt, her
fingers already stroking the blonde puffy sex through the nylon
crotch of her panty hose.
     "We'll cause a crash on the Outer Drive," Alison says,
laughing again as she attempts to pull away.
     Yes, maybe someone in a car on the expressway down there
will look up and see two women at a window, one woman with her
hand beneath the other woman's skirt. Alison wants to pull away
but Frankie prevents it. Frankie holds her in place, her left arm
wrapped around Alison's narrow pliant waist as her right hand
does its work between Alison's legs. Alison closes her eyes, her
hips moving, a delicate flush beginning to suffuse her face as
the volcano nears eruption. Frankie's fingers are relentless, her
middle finger extending underneath to rub the nylon protecting
Alison's sweet little anus. Does she feel it? What a vision she
must be without clothes. Frankie imagines Alison naked, her pink
nipples erected, her lovely virtuous face twisted by passion. She
kisses Alison again, rubbing her cunt with the heel of her palm.
It's a violation, a possession by her fingers. Pity she lacks
another hand to take those delicious breasts. If only she could
pinch Alison's nipples at the same time. Instead she bends her
head to kiss Alison's throat. She imagines she can feel Alison's
clitoris against her palm and she rubs it with more vigor.
Certainly the wetness is there, the syrup seeping through the
nylon into Frankie's sliding hand. Now she drops her left hand,
and she gets it under Alison's skirt in the rear to fondle
Alison's buttocks through her panty hose. Alison groans, her
thighs buckling.
     "Please . . . "
     "Let's go to the bedroom."
     Alison groans again. "Yes."

                          *     *     *

     The bedroom is decorated in pink. Frankie is astounded
because she expected something different, but it's all pink, the
walls pink, the bedspread pink satin, the lamp shades of pink
silk. A pink room. Frankie looks at the pink bed and she imagines
Alison writhing on it, her legs shaking in an ecstatic release,
her ripe breasts jiggling. Is Alison always on this bed alone?
     Frankie kisses Alison and she starts undressing her. Alison
remains passive, pliant, with a look of faint amusement as she
watches Frankie's hands working to get her clothes off.
     "You're very forceful," Alison says.
     "Don't you like it?"
     Alison laughs. "I'm not answering that."
     "What sort of girl were you? Were you rebellious?"
     "Yes, very."
     "I thought so."
     Frankie's hands tremble as she unhooks Alison's brassiere.
The blonde's breasts are full, heavy enough to show a slight
droop, the stiffness of the pink nipples quite evident. With
deliberate restraint, Frankie does no more than rub a fingertip
over one of the turgid points. "You're beautiful."
     Alison laughs. "My breasts?"
     "All of you."
     "When I was a girl, I was always afraid my breasts would be
too small. Now I'm sorry they aren't."
     "No, they're perfect."
     "My swinging tits."
     Frankie smiles. "Quite perfect."
     "You make me feel nasty when you look at me like that."
     "Then I won't look, I'll just finish undressing you."
     Frankie is thrilled. Having Alison gradually become naked
like this is a delightful treat. Alison supports herself with a
hand on Frankie's shoulder as Frankie tugs her panty hose down
her thighs and off her feet. The closeness of the blonde's belly
tantalizes Frankie, and her excitement becomes intense as she
imagines she can smell Alison's heat, smell her sweet cunt hidden
by those soft blonde curls.
     When Frankie rises again, she whispers in Alison's ear. "I'm
going to suck you dry."
     Alison shudders. "Tell me more."
     "On the bed, girl."
     With a moan of passion, Alison throws herself on the bed.
She rolls her naked body from side to side, and then finally she
settles on her back with her legs open. "I like what you do to
me."
     Her eyes on Alison's blonde cunt, Frankie quickly drops her
clothes. When she's down to her underpants, she climbs onto the
bed and she immediately drops her head to run her tongue over
Alison's belly. Alison moans, raises her knees and opens her
thighs in a definite invitation. Frankie's tongue leaves a wet
trail of saliva as she slides her mouth down into the blonde
bush. When she glances up at Alison's face, she finds Alison
watching her, Alison's blue eyes fixed on her mouth, Alison
waiting.
     Returning her attention to the pink flower directly under
her chin, Frankie extends her tongue for the first touch. Alison
groans, raising her knees further and holding them up with her
hands. "Don't tease me."
     That's what they all say, Frankie thinks. Don't tease me.
But they love it anyway. Frankie blows her warm breath on
Alison's open cunt, grazing the flesh with her mouth, teasing
her. She flutters her tongue along the outer lips, up and down,
inside the wet socket and then up to the pink little clit. Her
own cunt tingles. She slides her hands under Alison's ass and she
lifts the lower part of Alison's body to feast on her. Alison
groans, her mouth open, her neck craned as she over her belly to
watch Frankie's mouth take possession of her cunt. When Alison
comes it's like a fine dessert for Frankie, a sweet cake spiked
with brandy, the juices gushing out thick enough to be a definite
turn-on. Oh, how she adores a gushing pussy!

                          *     *     *

     Frankie lies on her back. She still wears her Jockey
underpants, the cotton crotch soaked by her leaking cunt. She
keeps her legs closed, listening to Alison as Alison talks about
her college days at Northwestern. Rich man's daughter at a rich
girl's school. Frankie turns on her side to watch the shadows
fall across Alison's breasts. She understands Alison better now.
Alison likes to maintain decorum. Alison is a woman who adored
ruffles as a ten-year-old. Alison favors the luster of the upper
class. Frankie is surprised the old judge is that rich, but
apparently he has millions. Property everywhere. She wants Alison
again. She wants to lunge at her, take her forcefully, but
instead she tells Alison to come on top of her. "On my face,"
Frankie says.
     Alison evidently likes the idea. She climbs over Frankie,
straddles her and shifts forward to get her hands on the
headboard. The blonde settles in, squatting over Frankie's face,
her cunt lubricating heavily again.
     "Is this all right?"
     Frankie pulls her down. She wants her nose in that valley of
love. She runs her hands over Alison's buttocks. The blonde's
cunt is open like a pink conch. Maybe she ought to press her ear
to it and listen for the sea. Does Alison understand how much she
adores her? Her tongue extended, Frankie sips at the liquid
flowing out of Alison's source. The fountain has a good yield and
she has no qualms about sucking everything. Sometimes she
dislikes the subservience implied by this position, but not with
Alison. The blonde has a certain quality that makes the presence
of her cunt on Frankie's face seem appropriate. Frankie now
wishes Alison had worn stockings, sheer nylons that would rub
against her skin as she sucks the blonde's sex. Dear god, what a
lovely pussy she has, the lips pouting, the interior seeming to
quake each time Frankie's tongue touches a sensitive place.
Frankie uses her tongue to polish the long groove, strong
efficient lapping everywhere. Alison's cunt seems to vibrate in
response to the ardent attention. In a deliberate attempt to be
provocative, Frankie nibbles with her teeth. She tugs at the
blonde pubic hair. She slides her fingers into the crack between
Alison's buttocks and she teases the blonde's anus with a wet
fingertip. When Alison feels the fingertip she moans, the sound
causing Frankie to push the finger at the tight orifice until
she's able to slip it inside to the first knuckle. Enough for
now. She yearns for the cunt. She glances up at Alison's face,
but the blonde's eyes are closed. She sucks at the flowing juices
as she slowly works her finger in and out of Alison's rectum.
When Alison comes, her body suddenly jerks forward. She moans and
posts, bobbing up and down on Frankie's mouth as Frankie drills
her finger more firmly inside her ass.

                          *     *     *

     "I think you've been ignoring me," Marcia says.
     They sit in a booth at lunch in a downtown restaurant.
Frankie thinks the food is rotten. She's annoyed that she allowed
herself to be coaxed into this lunch with Marcia. Can't Marcia
accept the fact that it's over? But Marcia still looks
interesting, that lovely chunky body and those full calves in the
dark stockings. Frankie remembers how Marcia quivers when her
belly is stroked. She's a pet, really. She'd like to have her on
a beach somewhere, take her on the sand while they listen to the
surf. Why does she have such a penchant for women like this one?
     Marcia says: "You're not even listening to me."
     "What did you say"
     "I said I think you've been ignoring me."
     "Yes, maybe it's true. I've been awfully busy."
     Marcia pouts. "Is that all it is? I hope it's nothing more
than that. I hope you're not going to dump me. I hate being
dumped."
     Frankie wonders how she can dump Marcia when they've never
had a real relationship.
     "You know I'm living with someone."
     Marcia nods. "But that doesn't mean you have to dump me."
     "I'm not dumping you."
     "I'd like to suck you off right this moment. Maybe I could
get under the table and do it."
     "Marcia, please . . . "
     Marcia giggles. "If the waiter hears me, you'll never be
able to come here again."
     "Then don't talk so loud."
     "You know what I don't like about most dykes? They're too
serious. You're too fucking serious, Frankie."
     Frankie doesn't bother to answer. It's no good. She thinks
of Alison. She has Valerie at home and Marcia here in the
restaurant, but all she wants to think about is Alison. Only
Alison represents something positive in her life. Everyone she
knows seems so trivial compared to Alison.
     She wants Alison.



                         TWELVE: VALERIE

     Valerie meets Brady and another woman on Broadway. The sun
is hot enough to bring the sweat out on their foreheads. The sun
makes Valerie regret she isn't more careful with her makeup. She
likes to keep her appearance intact. She hates the feeling of
vulnerability when the sun makes her wilt. When she looks at
Brady, Valerie remembers how it was with Brady and Cleo and the
others that time in Brady's house. She remembers Brady's hands on
her ass and it makes her quiver. Brady's huge breasts jut outward
like two mountains. Her silhouette would not show a straight line
anywhere. Does she remember that party? When their eyes meet,
Valerie understand Brady remembers everything.
     Brady's friend calls herself Dell and she's different, less
aggressive than Brady, more thoughtful. The way she looks at
Valerie makes it seem as though she's trying to hypnotize her. At
moments Valerie feels she's approaching the danger zone of
getting turned on. She can feel the itch, her clitoris engorged,
a definite throbbing at intervals. She wonders what will happen,
what the risk will be. She does not want to incite Cleo into one
of her crazy jealousies. But when Brady suggests they all go to
the nearest girl-bar to drink and talk, Valerie agrees.
     Walking into the bar is like stepping through a veil
separating one world from another world. They take a booth and
order a pitcher of beer. Brady drinks the beer and then she wipes
the foam off her lips with her fingers. She looks at Valerie and
says: "I like your dress."
     Valerie says thank you, wondering if Brady is coming on to
her. She likes the taste of the beer. She feels a surge of
pleasure at not being alone this afternoon.
     Brady says: "Cleo told me you're living with someone."
     Valerie nods. "Yes, I am living with someone."
     Brady chuckles. "Getting enough?"
     Valerie blushes and she says nothing. She avoids their eyes,
looking at the empty bar and then at her beer glass. She wonders
what they think of her. Poor little femme not getting enough. She
feels her breasts swelling in her bra. She has a sudden fantasy
she's on a beach and Brady and Dell are tearing her dress off,
delighting her with their hands. She imagines Dell's hands
tickling the hollows, tickling between her legs as the hot sun
beats down on them. She imagines the petals of her cunt opening
like a hot greedy flower to their fingers.
     After a while Brady rises. "I've got some business downtown.
You two have fun."
     Valerie is stunned. Brady's departure is unexpected, and
after she leaves the bar Valerie feels uncomfortable with Dell
because she hardly knows her.
     But Dell is soft and easy, at least softer than Brady, and
after a while Valerie feels more relaxed, happy with Dell because
she's different and variety is always welcome. Dell, in fact,
seems a little piqued that Brady ran off like that. Brady is one
of those women who always leave uncertainty behind them. Like a
big fast ship rocking the small boats as it passes them. Dell
nurtures this new friendship with Valerie, speaking softly,
smiling, getting Valerie to understand she finds her appealing.
     "Lean forward," Dell says.
     Puzzled, Valerie asks why. "What for?"
     "Come on, do it. Just do it for me."
     When Dell looks down at Valerie's breasts, Valerie
understands. She blushes and she leans forward, her blouse
billowing out to make it easy for Dell to look down the neckline
at her breasts.
     "Sexy," Dell says with a soft laugh. "Sexy tits in a lace
bra. Brady told me you had your brains fucked out at that party."
     Valerie's face is red. "It's not fair to talk about people
like that."
     "Hell, what's the harm? Who cares? You're too pretty to care
about that. Do you like me?"
     Uncertain, Valerie looks at her. Dell is beefy, pushing
forty, but she has a soft face and nice eyes. "Sure," Valerie
says.
     "I've got some toys. I'm getting hot thinking about doing
you with a strap-on. How about it?"
     Valerie quivers. "I don't know."
     "It's boring sitting here. Let's go to my place and get
comfortable, okay?"
     When Dell rises, Valerie rises with her. The possibility of
being abandoned in the bar is intolerable.

                          *     *     *

     Dell has more grace than Brady or Cleo. She treats Valerie
with care, helping her into the taxi, then helping her out of the
taxi. On the stairs walking up to Dell's apartment in a small
six-flat building, Dell puts a hand on Valerie's ass and she
keeps it there as Valerie climbs the steps in front of her.
Valerie feels the strong fingers through the layers of clothing.
She likes the idea that Dell wants her, wondering what Dell will
do in bed. Dell makes a joke about how difficult it is to walk
behind a pretty ass, and Valerie laughs as they climb the stairs.
     Inside her apartment, Dell opens a window to get some air in
the place. The living room is a mess, old magazines and
newspapers everywhere, a food tray perched on top of the TV set.
Dell brings some cold beer out of the kitchen, and after that
they sit on the sofa and Dell starts groping Valerie, kissing her
and fondling her breasts through her blouse. When Dell starts
unbuttoning the front of her blouse, Valerie leans back with a
sigh of surrender.
     "Let's have a look," Dell says. She gets the blouse
unbuttoned, but instead of unhooking the front of Valerie's bra,
she deftly scoops Valerie's breasts out of the cups and she bends
her head to suck one of the nipples.
     Valerie groans as she looks down at Dell's head. She can see
the gray hair mixed with the red, the pink shell of one of Dell's
ears. She feels wanton, totally vulnerable, willing to do
anything Dell wants. She imagines a smell of womanhood in the
room, a smell of ripe cunt. Maybe it's her own smell. Dell
excites her because she has a definite sensuality in the way she
moves and talks. Dell finishes sucking one nipple and she moves
to the other one. Her hand now slides between Valerie's legs and
under her skirt to find her panty-covered crotch. Valerie opens
her thighs as Dell's fingers lightly stroke her puffed lips
through the nylon of her panties.
     Dell pulls her mouth away from Valerie's breast, leaving the
nipple stiff and glistening with her saliva. "What's Cleo like in
bed?"
     Valerie is amused. "You don't want to talk about that."
     "Sure I do. Does she fuck you with a dick?"
     Valerie quivers as she feels Dell's fingers pinching her
labia. "No, never." She has an urge to guide the fingers inside
her cunt at once, get Dell to take her immediately. She feels
herself gushing, damp in the crotch. Would Cleo care about
sharing her with Dell? Valerie has no qualms about opening her
thighs to Dell. She slumps further on the sofa, quivers, opens
her thighs wider and looks at Dell through half closed eyes. "I
like you better than Brady."
     Dell chuckles. "You do? Come on, let's get the blouse and
skirt off. I'm dying to look at you."
     Before long Dell has Valerie stripped down to her heels and
nylons. She kisses Valerie, pushes her thick tongue inside
Valerie's mouth as she strokes Valerie's thighs and tells her how
much she wants to fuck her. Valerie imagines Dell lunging at her
with a dildo. She knows what it's like; she had it during the
wild days before she met Frankie, from the butches in the bars.
Dell gets her to stand now, and Valerie thinks she can definitely
smell herself, the scent of her cunt, her juices oozing between
her legs. She wonders what sort of game Dell has in mind. The air
in the room is hot and damp, and she can feel the sweat between
her naked breasts as Dell kisses her again. Dell kisses her mouth
and chin and then her breasts. The older woman fondles Valerie's
ass, whispering in her ear how pretty she is in the stockings and
heels, while at the same time her fingers slide into the crack
between Valerie's buttocks and one finger gently tickles
Valerie's anus. Valerie trembles, hoping Dell won't want her
there, not with a dildo at least. She has a sudden memory of Cleo
taking her ass with her fingers, Cleo teasing her because she
came so hard. Dell hugs her, binding her body close with her
strong arms, a ray of sunlight appearing to sparkle as Valerie
presses against Dell to feel the soft pillows of Dell's big
breasts under her shirt.
     Laughing, Dell says: "You're dripping, honey. You're hungry
for it." She makes Valerie turn around and bend forward with her
hands on the back of a chair. Dell stands behind her, kissing her
neck and then sliding her hand between her thighs to get at her
crotch. Valerie groans as she moves her legs further apart. She
feels Dell's hand down there, the strong fingers pinching and
then spreading her labia. Valerie has a sudden fantasy of being
fucked in a meadow by a woman wearing black leather. The idea is
so unexpected, she giggles, which makes Dell think her fingers
are doing it. Dell chuckles as she rubs between the lips of
Valerie's cunt and inside the crack of her ass at the same time.
She kisses Valerie's neck again, nibbling at her skin and then
whispering in Valerie's ear: "If you'll pull your cheeks open,
I'll rim you."
     Valerie shudders. She lowers her shoulders to the
upholstered back of the chair, and then she reaches behind with
her hands to pull her buttocks apart. In a moment she feels
Dell's hot breath on her ass, and then inside the crack and on
her anus. A whimper of delight comes out of Valerie's throat at
the first touch of Dell's wet tongue. She loves it. She loves to
be treated this way, to be made love to as though she's a hot-
house flower. She loves having a butch's tongue tickling and
licking her ass with such artfulness she's almost ready to come.
     Dell rises. She gets her hand between Valerie's legs again,
and this time she takes her with three fingers. Valerie groans,
pushing her ass back to get more, anxious now to have an orgasm
after all that teasing of her anus. Dell's fucking is lavish,
extremely sensual, her knuckles ravaging Valerie's clitoris with
each thrust of her strong fingers. Valerie comes hard, but Dell
keeps fucking her until she comes again. After that Dell makes
Valerie straighten up and she kisses her. She brings her juice
coated fingers to her mouth and she sucks them clean as Valerie
watches her and trembles with excitement. Valerie is overcome,
her mind drugged with the intense sex. She's ready for anything
now, and when Dell says she'll be right back, Valerie knows what
to expect and she wants it desperately.
     "If you want beer, it's in the frig," Dell says.
     "Okay."
     The older woman playfully pinches one of Valerie's nipples
and then she saunters away. Valerie leaves the living room and
she walks into the kitchen to find a beer in the refrigerator.
The kitchen window shade is up, the window facing the adjacent
building, and Valerie giggles as she remembers she's wearing only
stockings and heels. She hurries back to the living room, and she
stands near the stereo sipping beer out of the can and slowly
swaying her hips to the beat of the music.
     When Dell returns, she's half undressed, stripped to the
waist with her big breasts swinging free and a long thick dildo
sticking out of the open fly of her jeans. "Here I am with my
dick," Dell says with a laugh, curling her hand around the shaft
of the dildo and lewdly stroking it from the tip down to the
base.
     Valerie blushes as she gazes at the dildo. The color is more
pink than natural, and the length and thickness large enough to
make the toy a bit frightening. What turns her on more than the
dildo are Dell's big breasts. The brown nipples are huge, each
breast like a beach ball capped with a dark moon. Dell notices
Valerie's gaze, and she smiles as she releases the dildo to lift
her breasts with her right forearm. "You want to suck one of
these, honey? Come on, don't be bashful."
     Mesmerized by the heavy breasts, Valerie moves forward to
bend her head and take one of the tits in her mouth as Dell holds
it up to her mouth. Dell sighs as she feels Valerie nibbling and
sucking at her fat nipple. "That's good, angel. That's very
good."
     The sucking of Dell's big breast brings an intense heat to
Valerie's cunt, the juices streaming down to the tops of her
stockings. She suctions the nipple between her lips, attempting
to pull it outward. She remembers a girl in college, a wild-eyed
dyke with enormous breasts whose favorite game was to offer a
breast to anyone at the slightest provocation. Valerie, in fact,
accepted the offer at a party and thus confirmed her inner
yearning to be a lesbian.
     Now when she pulls her mouth away from Dell's breast, Dell
smiles at her as she undulates her hips. "Go down on it, honey.
Get my dick in your mouth and suck it."
     Valerie blushes. She drops to a crouch now, squatting in
front of Dell, holding onto the denim covering Dell's big thighs
as she tilts forward to take the pink dildo between her lips. The
taste isn't at all rubbery, more neutral than she expected, and
as she holds her head still Dell chuckles and shoves her hips
forward to bury half the length of the dildo in Valerie's mouth.
     "Is that too much," Dell asks. "You've got such a gorgeous
mouth."
     Valerie feels the excitement in her cunt as she sucks the
pliable plastic dildo. She likes this kind much better than one
of those hard vibrators. She likes the feel of it in her mouth,
like a huge pacifier, the surface with an almost velvet texture.
She smells patchouli, but she can't imagine where it's coming
from. She hears Dell's heavy breathing, and when she looks up she
whimpers with lust at the sight of Dell's pendulous breasts
hanging over her head. Nothing ventured nothing gained, Valerie
thinks. Is Dell the answer to her problems? Dell certainly seems
more interested in giving her pleasure than Cleo does. Cleo is
selfish, always prolonging the satisfaction of her own needs,
never caring when Valerie complains about Cleo's fingers hurting
her rectum. What Cleo likes is having Valerie's head squeezed
between her muscular thighs, Valerie's head squeezed so hard she
sometimes thinks she'll die that way.
     Dell finally takes Valerie into the bedroom. She makes
Valerie lie on her bed on her back with her knees up and apart to
show her cunt. Dell talks about it, telling Valerie how pretty it
is, telling Valerie how much she likes the way the hair is
trimmed, and how the triangle is so perfect it makes her
salivate. Of course it's all nonsense, but Valerie loves it
anyway. She adores it when a woman looks at her cunt and tells
her how pretty it is. She holds her knees back with her hands,
aware how exposed she is, aware of Dell's eyes on her cunt and
anus. She wishes Dell would dive down and get her nose in it,
polish her clit with that strong nose, but instead Dell let's her
hold her legs like that as she continues feasting her eyes.
     "Show me the hole," Dell says.
     Valerie blushes but she does it. She slides her hands down
and she uses her fingers, pulling her cunt apart to reveal the
mouth of her vagina. Dell stares at it, smiling, her face
flushed, one hand slowly stroking the dildo that protrudes from
her fly.
     In a moment Dell climbs onto the bed and the main event
begins. Kneeling between Valerie's thighs, she hoists Valerie's
legs over her shoulders and she gets busy guiding the dildo into
Valerie's wet tunnel. Valerie groans as it goes in. She keeps her
eyes closed and she focuses on the feel of it. A shudder passes
through her body as she feels one of Dell's fingers working its
way inside her anus. She hears Dell whispering at her, sweet
words of encouragement, much more romantic, really, than what she
gets when Cleo fucks her. The dildo feels so good in her cunt,
she prays it will never stop. Her cunt is running wet, the
lubrication making everything so deliciously slippery. Dell keeps
that finger in her backside, slowly screwing it in and out as she
continues thrusting with the dildo. When Valerie cries out, Dell
starts slamming it in there to make the orgasm more intense.
"Geronimo," Dell says, and Valerie screams as she comes again on
the sliding prick.



                        THIRTEEN: FRANKIE

     Frankie sits on a chair in Alison's bedroom. Alison is on
the bed, her body wrapped in a robe, lying on her side as she
idly turns the pages of a fashion magazine. Relaxed on the chair,
Frankie watches Alison, her eyes on Alison's legs revealed by the
askew robe, the nylon-clad ankles, the elegant high-heeled
slippers that make her feet look so enchanting.
     Now Alison puts the magazine away and she rises from the
bed. She sighs, fluffs her blonde hair and walks over to the
dressing table. Is she annoyed at something? Frankie can't
imagine what it is. She always does her best to keep Alison
pacified. The problem is Alison is often too sophisticated, too
difficult to please. Frankie finds it difficult to predict from
one time to the next what Alison might want. The affair has a
certain breathless pace, a pace determined by Alison and not by
Frankie.
     Alison removes her robe. Frankie feels a sudden bubble of
lust forming in her belly as she looks at Alison who is now
wearing only beige stockings with elastic tops and the high
heels. Alison has a definite penchant to tease. Avoiding
Frankie's eyes, she stands at the dressing table toying with her
bare breasts, her fingers circling the globes as though to
measure them. What a pet she is. The silk panties are a mauve
color. Her legs look so delicious in sheer nylon, her thighs firm
above the dark tops of the stockings. She pulls at her nipples
with her fingertips, uninhibited, playing with her body as though
Frankie isn't there. Frankie has a sudden desire to touch her,
and she now rises to approach Alison. For a moment they stand
close without contact, Alison turning to look at Frankie, her
eyes amused. On the wall behind Alison is a small oil painting of
a white moon over a blue lake.
     Alison says: "Why don't you undress? I never get to look at
you."
     Of course it's not true. She has looked at Frankie's body
often enough. But Frankie doesn't argue. She turns away and she
starts undressing, removing each item of her clothing with
deliberate care, the suit jacket, the string tie, the white
blouse, the tailored skirt. She slips her feet out of her flat
shoes and she quickly gets rid of her pantyhose. Now she wears
only maroon androgynous underpants. Her nipples are stiff, the
areolas contracted around the dark points. When she looks at
Alison, she sees the interest in Alison's eyes. What does she
want? Frankie thinks. She's never comfortable being naked with a
femme. She has a sudden fear Alison will send her away. Dear god,
what a wrenching beauty she is! She imagines Alison yielding to
her. She wonders if she ought to remove her underpants, and she
decides to keep wearing them. Her cunt is leaking into the
crotch, and she's certain if she opens her legs the stain will be
visible. Does Alison appreciate that? Alison is looking at
Frankie, but her interest is directed at Frankie's almost
nonexistent breasts rather than at her crotch. Frankie is uneasy
under Alison's gaze. She pretends to arrange her clothing on the
chair, and as she does this she willfully contracts her buttocks
to produce a tingling stab of pleasure in her anus, an absurd
moment that makes her want to giggle like a silly girl. Does
Alison understand anything? Frankie finishes adjusting her
clothing on the chair, and now with a twinge of annoyance she
quickly peels her underpants off and she tosses them on the pile
of clothes without looking at the crotch to inspect the wetness.
     She faces Alison. They stand about six feet apart, Alison's
right hand now raised to position her fingers in the valley
between her breasts. Frankie hesitates a moment, and then she
says: "Do you have any skin lotion I can use? My arms are dry."
     Alison finds the plastic bottle on the dressing table and
she hands it to Frankie, who turns away from Alison as she
squeezes out some lotion on her palm and then rubs it into her
forearm. Frankie guesses Alison is now looking at her ass, but
she'd rather have her ass looked at than the rest of her. Her
technique has always been to avoid attention to her body, a
ridiculous idea since women always like the way she looks.
     As if reading Frankie's mind, Alison says: "I like your
body."
     Frankie quivers, aware of a gush of juice between her legs.
Now she's wondering what to do with Alison, or what Alison will
want from her. Sometimes, like now, Alison likes to extend the
foreplay a long time before they get down to the real fucking.
Unfortunately, it's the fucking that Frankie likes best, the hard
deliberate fucking of Alison's lovely body. She quivers as she
recalls probing Alison's openings with her fingers.
     Unexpectedly, Alison moves closer to Frankie and she strokes
one of Frankie's arms. "Are you still working out?"
     Frankie nods. "It's a good health club. I could take you in
as a guest some time."
     Alison smiles. "I wouldn't last five minutes in one of those
places."
     "But everyone needs exercise."
     Alison seems fascinated by Frankie's muscular arms. Frankie
gazes at Alison's breasts and she feels an urge to run her tongue
over the luscious tips. She's hot now. She'd like her saliva
dripping on those fruity tits. She quivers as Alison's hand
slides across her chest, the blonde's fingers playfully pinching
one of Frankie's turgid nipples.
     "Anyway, I do like your body," Alison says.
     "Let's get on the bed."
     Alison laughs softly as Frankie urges her toward the bed.
They fall on the bed together, arms and legs wrapped around each
other, one body pressed against the other in a hot kiss. Frankie
clamps her mouth against Alison's as she pushes her tongue
between Alison's lips. Her hand finds one of Alison's breasts and
she squeezes it, palpating the flesh, her mouth working against
Alison's. The blonde croons with pleasure as Frankie pinches her
nipple. Frankie moves her head down, moves her mouth to Alison's
breasts. She takes the nipple she has just pinched, takes it
between her lips and slowly drips her saliva over it. Does Alison
understand how much she adores her?
     Alison moans. "Kiss me everywhere."
     Frankie's head is reeling with excitement as she wonders
exactly what Alison means. Kiss me everywhere. The blonde's
beauty intoxicates Frankie. Alison rolls from side to side on her
back. So desirable. Frankie runs her hands over Alison's full
breasts, over the nipples sticking up like darts. Alison's pink
nipples are a provocation. Frankie bends to the feast, licking
Alison's breasts, sucking each nipple in turn. Alison bends her
head to watch Frankie's mouth. Frankie uses her hands to wiggle a
breast against her lips. She's hungry for both nipples, annoyed
she can't take them at the same time, two hard raisins so
delicious it makes her tremble. She gives them the full
treatment, rubbing her face in the cleft between the two full
breasts, rubbing her wet mouth over the nipples until they seem
to swell into enormous berries. She inhales the scent of Alison's
blonde skin.
     Then Alison presses the top of Frankie's head. Frankie
knows. She puts up no resistance to it. She rolls her face over
Alison's diaphragm as she drags her mouth downward. There is no
need for Alison to tell her what she wants. Frankie knows. She
tugs at the waistband of Alison's panties.
     "Pretty panties," Frankie says.
     "Do you really like them?"
     The meaningless chatter of two lovers. Frankie presses her
cheek against the nylon. Alison wants to be sucked and Alison as
usual is tenacious. She pushes at Frankie's head again. Frankie
pulls the panties down, tantalizing herself as she slowly
uncovers more skin, the blonde bush, a thrill as she sees all of
the triangle. What a lovely thick tuft she has! Alison lifts her
ass to make the removal of the panties easier. Frankie pulls them
off, sliding the wisp of nylon over Alison's nylon-clad legs,
excited by the stockings that make Alison look so decadent.
Alison lifts her knees, opening her thighs wide, then hooking one
leg around Frankie to draw her in.
     The blonde's meaty cunt is waiting like a pink clam. Frankie
bends to it, bends to the eating of the clam as Alison moans with
pleasure.
     Before long Alison has both legs hooked around Frankie's
back, her thighs wide apart, her cunt completely available to
Frankie's mouth. Frankie uses her fingers to caress the outer
lips. She wiggles the cunt with her fingertips, making the inner
lips swell and open like petals. Alison's inner thighs are
perfumed, and mixed with the perfume is the heady scent of her
sex. Frankie spreads the cunt wider, sniffing at it, wetting her
nose with the blonde's syrup, nuzzling at the mouth of her
vagina. Then she mashes her mouth against the cunt and she slurps
in the velvet. Alison moans more loudly. Frankie strokes her
tongue up and down, around in the hole and then licking upward to
Alison's clitoris. The blonde's juices are flowing. Frankie
nibbles at the lips, whips the clit with her tongue and then
sucks it between her lips as she twists her face in the wet
swamp. Finally, she moves down to plunge her tongue inside the
gaping vagina, her hands holding the larger lips apart, her
tongue thrusting in and out rapidly, then stopping as she sucks
the juices, then thrusting her tongue again. She knows how much
Alison likes this. Alison has told her so. Frankie sucks up the
juices, and then she bites one of the lips before burying her
face in the clam again. Her desire is intense, suffocating,
relentless. She feels Alison pulling at her hair and she finally
raises her head. The cunt, the haven, is now abandoned as Alison
gazes at her with hot eyes. Frankie's heart beats wildly as she
watches Alison take hold of her breasts with her hands and give
her a coy look. Frankie adores her. She has her now but she wants
even more of her.
     Alison smiles and says: "Let me roll over."
     Ah yes. Frankie backs away and Alison rolls over on her
belly. Now Alison's lovely round ass is visible. She settles
herself on the mattress with her thighs together, her buttocks
tightly closed. Frankie's pulse races as she takes in the ass and
the stockings, the firm full thighs tapering to the fine calves,
then the beauty of Alison's ass again.
     With a groan of desperate excitement, Frankie lowers her
face to run her mouth over the curve of a smooth buttock.
     Alison whimpers, responding with a gentle wiggle of her
hips.
     Frankie treats the blonde's ass with reverence. She finds
her own clitoris with her fingers, and as she slides her parted
lips over Alison's buttock, she rubs the shaft of her clitoris
with her fingertips.
     She cherishes Alison's ass. She licks it with her wet
tongue. The skin is like ivory, the flesh beneath it both firm
and resilient, smooth and soft and warm. Frankie feels her own
juices drizzling on her fingers as she moves to the other
buttock.
     Alison appears fascinated by Frankie's attentions. She
whimpers, she bleats, she wriggles her ass under Frankie's face.
They have done this before and Frankie knows Alison is fully
aware how far it will go, how devoted Frankie can be, how loving
to this part of her anatomy. "I like the way you do my ass,"
Alison once said. This made Frankie tremble with embarrassment,
and she hurriedly turned away in order to hide her face.
     Now Frankie manipulates both buttocks with her hands. Alison
responds to everything she does. The blonde moves her thighs
apart, her skin catching the afternoon sunlight as she draws her
knees forward a bit. This raises her ass, and as Frankie nuzzles
in the crack, Alison moves her knees again and her ass lifts even
further.
     Frankie is lost. Using both hands, she opens Alison's ass,
pulls at the two loaves, pulls them apart even as she blushes at
her own lust. But no one can see the blush. She buries her face
between Alison's buttocks and she moves her lips around as she
kisses everywhere except the rosebud. The skin in the groove is
soft and luscious and scented with Alison's perfume. Frankie cups
Alison's cunt in her palm to feel the wetness, the wet heat of
it. She slides her mouth down to the vaginal entrance now so
blatantly exposed the opening gapes as a dark red hole.
     With a groan, Alison arches her ass upward another few
inches. Her knees slide further apart, her thighs widening, her
ass gently rolling.
     Frankie's mind is in a whirl. It occurs to her she'd rather
have Alison in a garter belt. These stockings with elastic tops
are sexy, but a garter belt would be more interesting. She wants
the feel of garters under her fingertips as she presses her face
into Alison's full ass. She tells herself she needs to find a way
to let Alison know, whisper it sometime when Alison isn't
expecting it. She imagines Alison will be amused and say yes,
she'll wear a garter belt if Frankie wants it.
     Now Frankie gazes at the tendrils of hair in the crack. She
holds Alison's hips as Alison writhes. She runs her thumbs along
the inner slopes of Alison's buttocks, her fingers splayed to
their full extent as she takes possession of Alison's ass. Below
the split between the two buttocks, the pouch of Alison's cunt is
a like a hairy mouth begging for attention.
     Maybe sometime she'll have her on a boat, take her this way
with the wind in the sails.
     The counterpane on the bed is made of pink satin, now
spotted in places with sweat and cunt syrup.
     Both hands on Alison's ass, Frankie wiggles the cheeks,
pulls the buttocks apart as she gazes at Alison's anus.
     Frankie's clitoris feels swollen, enormous. She looks down
at her belly and she wonders if later on she'll have a chance to
rub herself on Alison's ass and thighs. Alison is never
predictable. The affair has its peaks and valleys. Frankie;s head
is now pounding with lust, her cunt oozing.
     Alison elevates her ass even further, offering it to
Frankie, and now looking at Frankie over her shoulder. "Kiss me
some more," Alison says.
     Frankie becomes the lover commanded. She lowers her face
again, nuzzling between Alison's buttocks. A great heat seems to
radiate from the two globes. Frankie rubs her nipples against
Alison's thighs, catching one nipple at the top of a stocking.
She tries to remember what they did the last time. She wants
their lovemaking to have enough variety to prevent Alison from
getting bored. Now she slides her mouth over Alison's anus,
wetting it, tickling it with her tongue, then placing her tongue
directly on the ring and pushing just hard enough to make Alison
feel it.
     Alison moans. Frankie has a hand on her own cunt, her palm
slowly rubbing her wet flesh, the wet mat of pubic hair. Does
Alison realize how hot this makes her? For a brief moment,
Frankie feels an urge to rebel against Alison's need to be
serviced. This body worship. Frankie's cunt gushes in her hand,
the syrup flowing over her fingers. Dear god, she's dripping.
Alison bumps her ass upward. Frankie feels a tingling in her
clitoris as she grips Alison's buttocks with her hands. Her
tongue has now penetrated the tight ring, Alison groaning as she
presses her ass back against Frankie's face. The blonde's thighs
are wide apart, her back bent, her face turned to the side and
pressed into the pillow, her eyes closed as she focusses all her
attention on what Frankie is doing to her ass. For Frankie the
caress is a violation, a possession, the heat in her chest rising
as she plasters her lips against Alison's anus to suck it into a
yielding softness.
     Is the room too warm? The sweat seems to roll off Frankie's
breasts in a torrent. She keeps her tongue active, sensitive to
each cry of pleasure from Alison, probing vigorously and then
relaxing to a mere delicate fluttering at the entrance.
     When Alison finally comes, it's like the eruption of a
volcano, her body quaking as Frankie suddenly transfers her hand
from her own cunt to Alison's cunt, her fingers taking Alison's
vagina, two fingers penetrating, thrusting deep inside the
tunnel, sliding in and out as her tongue continues to wriggle in
the blonde's receptive anus.
     Afterward, after they bathe together and spread lotion over
their bodies, Frankie makes love to Alison's ass again. Alison
giggles and tells Frankie she's insatiable.



                        FOURTEEN: VALERIE

     When Frankie's law firm sends her to Washington for a few
days, Valerie agrees to go dancing with Cleo in the evening. They
go to a lesbian bar, Valerie tingling with excitement and
apprehension because it's possible someone who knows Frankie
will see her with Cleo.
     Once inside the crowded bar, Valerie's head becomes filled
with the music, the noise, the press of so many women surrounding
her. She hasn't had an evening out like this one in such a long
time. She stands beside Cleo as Cleo waves to her friends, talks
to her friends, ignoring Valerie who doesn't mind it because she
doesn't want to be conspicuous. She's hoping after they leave the
bar Cleo will take her home and give her a workout. Thinking
about that makes Valerie shiver with excitement, the familiar
excitement that occurs whenever she thinks of the way Cleo
handles her like a rag doll. Her syrup is flowing. She can feel
it. The ambience in the bar, the rush, the noise, the mix of
perfume turns her on.
     Before long a mannish looking dyke swaggers over to say
hello to Cleo, and Valerie gets to meet Pauly. They chat awhile,
and then Cleo slides an arm around Pauly's shoulders and smiles
at Valerie. "Pauly's an old friend, Val. You be nice to her while
I go say hello to someone."
     Valerie is peeved, but there isn't much she can do about it
as Cleo walks off into the crowd. Pauly presses against Valerie,
presses her against the bar and says: "What'll you have, honey?
You want another daiquiri?"
     The play is there, Pauly playing her, running a hand over
Valerie's back at the same time as her knee comes up to push
through Valerie's dress against her crotch. For a moment Valerie
wants to rebel, but she finds that impossible. She realizes now
Cleo may want this. The booze and the loud music make everything
seem so wild. She wonders if she ought to keep away from Pauly.
But no, Pauly won't have that. Pauly moves in, kisses the side of
her neck, whispers into Valerie's ear that Valerie's breasts look
delicious in the low-cut dress, a real handful. "I like tits,"
Pauly says as she turns to take another swig of beer out the
glass.
     Just at that moment a girl Valerie knows passes them, the
girl's eyes turning to look at them, the girl smiling as she
recognizes Valerie, raising an eyebrow, then passing on without
saying anything. Valerie wonders if the girl thinks she's with
Pauly. Oh hell, Valerie thinks.
     Pauly takes Valerie onto the dance floor. Pauly has a strong
body, and when she starts dancing she looks more mannish than
ever. Valerie glances around the crowded dance floor and she
suddenly sees Cleo with a girl, a pretty blonde in a slinky
dress, the two of them dancing. Valerie trembles with jealousy.
She damns Cleo and Cleo's habit of making her look small. Cleo
seems mesmerized by the pretty blonde. The room is filled with
gorgeous femmes, and now Valerie wonders why she ever agreed to
this date with Cleo. She's not with Cleo anyway, she's with Pauly
now. And she can tell Pauly has an itch for her. That look in
Pauly's eyes means Pauly wants her in bed. Valerie imagines
Pauly's thick fingers inside her cunt. Oh yes, Pauly wants her.
Cleo obviously doesn't care one way or the other. Valerie tells
herself she means nothing to Cleo. Maybe that's why Cleo treats
her like garbage. She continues dancing with Pauly, and now as
they shake their bodies past a mirror, Valerie looks at herself
dancing with this big woman who wants to get inside her pants.
She imagines it, imagines herself unrestrained with Pauly. What a
mannish body she has, the way she moves, the way she tosses those
strong arms around. Valerie feels helpless. Frankie is in
Washington and Cleo is with another girl and she feels so alone,
like a nothing little shadow of other women. That's all she is, a
little shadow of Frankie and Cleo.
     Pauly moves in now. As they dance, she puts her hands on
Valerie's hips, her eyes fixed on Valerie's breasts almost
popping out of the low-cut dress. "Let's go downstairs," Pauly
says.
     "Downstairs?"
     "To the restroom, honey. Let's take a break and go
downstairs, okay?"
     Pauly leads her away. Valerie is thankful because she's
tired of dancing and she needs the john anyway. Pauly holds her
with a strong arm around her waist as they make their way off the
dance floor and down the stairs to where a line of women waits
for the restroom to become available. Valerie and Pauly move into
the line, Pauly standing behind Valerie with her crotch pressed
against Valerie's ass and her mouth whispering in Valerie's ear
as she tells Valerie she's the prettiest flower in the place,
much prettier than any of the other femmes. Pauly whispers that
she'd like to put it to her, get her dress up right there in the
line and give it to her from behind with her fingers. Valerie
quivers, excited by Pauly now even though she didn't expect it.
The image of Pauly fucking her from behind is exciting. Pauly is
different than Cleo and Frankie, more determined, more confident.
Valerie feels the big woman radiating sex behind her like a hot
oven.
     Finally Valerie and Pauly are up at the front of the line,
and before long they get their turn and they move into the
restroom together. Valerie immediately moves to one of the empty
stalls, but then she feels an immediate shock as Pauly pushes
behind her into the stall, Pauly locking the door and then
grabbing Valerie and kissing her mouth, Pauly's hand sliding
under Valerie's dress to get at her cunt, the older woman's thick
fingers taking possession of Valerie without any preliminaries.
     Valerie gasps. "My god, stop it!"
     But Pauly only chuckles. "Come on, baby, give it to mama."
She makes Valerie open her legs further, and as soon as Valerie
does this, Pauly's fingers are in there more insistent than ever,
two fingers and then three fingers pushing inside Valerie's wet
cunt, Valerie groaning and finally lifting one foot to the
commode to make it easier for Pauly to get her off. It doesn't
take long, not with a dyke as skillful as Pauly, and soon Valerie
is shuddering as the hot pleasure rips through her body. After
the first orgasm, Valerie begs Pauly to stop, but instead Pauly
makes Valerie turn around and put her hands on the toilet tank.
Pauly now raises Valerie's dress, strokes her ass and then
quickly gets her fingers inside Valerie's cunt again, this time
from the rear.
     Valerie is ravished. She can't stop it now because the
pleasure is too sharp. The insides of her thighs are drenched all
the way down to the tops of her stockings. She groans and gasps,
praying no one outside the stall will hear her. Pauly renews the
attack, a fierce fucking in Valerie's cunt with her fingers, and
then at last Pauly gets her thumb in Valerie's ass and Pauly
says: "Cleo told me you're a hot ass. Yeah, she's right, isn't
she?"
     In the midst of the wild orgasm, Valerie understands what
has happened, understands that Cleo has dumped her, thrown her
away, given her to Pauly to be Pauly's dolly.
     Valerie comes hard, crying at the same time, sobbing her
desperation, and of course Pauly thinks the sobbing means Valerie
is in heaven.
     Oh god, I don't want this, Valerie thinks. This is not what
she wants. She hates Pauly, she hates Cleo, she hates everything
that's happened to her. She wants Frankie back. Oh yes, she wants
Frankie.



                        FIFTEEN: FRANKIE

     Frankie is sitting alone in a restaurant on Chestnut Street,
waiting for Alison, fidgeting with her napkin. She has been back
in Chicago three days, and all she cares about now is seeing
Alison again. The trip to Washington was dull, or maybe her mind
these days just isn't focused enough on her work. What she feels
at the moment is anxiety. And sexual expectation. She hopes
Alison will be free this afternoon. Frankie wriggles on the
chair, wondering if her skirt is wrinkled. Under the tailored
jacket she wears a white shirt without a bra, and she can feel
the texture of the cloth against her nipples. She looks around
the room and she feels her sexual hunger again. Will she ever be
content? When she was a girl, she always thought a full moon so
romantic, and what was more important in life than romance? Now
she knows it's not romance that's important, it's love. Intense
absorbing love. She had that once with Valerie, but maybe it will
never return. She had such a difficult time getting Alison to
meet her today. For an instant Frankie wonders if maybe Alison is
too fickle. Maybe she doesn't care enough. What a pity to meet
her in a restaurant and not be able to hug her when they see each
other. Play tough, Frankie thinks, always play tough. Alison
irritated her yesterday by her coyness about meeting today. She's
too beautiful, Frankie thinks. She wants her fingers inside
Alison. I'm living on hope, Frankie thinks. She lives on the hope
things will work out for her, her life get settled somehow. What
does she want? Does she want Alison or Valerie? Is one woman
enough? There are things about Valerie that still excite her
immensely. Her legs, for instance. But Alison excites her too.
The way Alison purrs when Frankie gropes her. The way Alison
likes to offer her ass. Maybe it's the subtlety. Alison is more
subtle than Valerie. You don't understand anything, Frankie
thinks. She understands torts and estates, but she has no
understanding of what she wants from women. She's mystified.
     Finally Alison arrives, a tall graceful vision entering the
room, looking around, spotting Frankie and walking toward her.
Frankie feels the hunger again, an intense desire to taste
Alison's beauty.
     "Hi," Alison says, a soft smile as she sits down opposite
Frankie.
     "You look wonderful," Frankie says. And then she adds: "I
missed you terribly."
     Alison accepts the token of affection with a demure glance.
She picks up the menu and she begins discussing it, what she
likes, what she doesn't like. She says she hasn't been in this
restaurant in some time and she isn't that certain about the
food. Frankie has no interest in the food, all she cares about is
Alison, the memories of them together, the sequence of erotic
images now passing through her mind one after the other, each
image burning her brain before it vanishes only to be replaced by
another image. What do I want? Frankie thinks. At the moment what
she wants is the feel of her chin pushing at Alison's cunt,
Alison's juices dribbling on her chin. The memory makes Frankie
tremble. She tells herself she has to stop it before she destroys
herself.
     Alison is different. Frankie senses a change in Alison. They
talk about Frankie's trip to Washington, but Alison seems
disinterested. She looks at her hands, at her long fingers.
Frankie talks, but as she talks she schemes about how to get
Alison into bed this afternoon. She wants Alison in her arms. She
imagines herself kissing Alison, petting her, yielding to the
penchant Alison has to have Frankie's tongue everywhere.
Frankie's tongue and nose. A memory of Alison's scent is suddenly
so vivid, Frankie shudders with delight. Scintillating.
     Then Alison says: "We need to talk about something."
     "What?"
     "Something important."
     "I'm listening."
     Frankie tells herself Alison's ass is so perfect, so
breathtaking. And her belly. And the way she comes.
     Alison says: "I've decided I can't go on with this. I really
can't."
     "What do you mean?"
     "I'm talking about us. I'm sorry."
     Frankie remembers Alison moaning as she hunches up to get
more of Frankie's fingers.
     "Just like that?"
     Alison looks away. "Don't you think it's better to be more
direct? I think it's much better."
     For a moment Frankie thinks there might be some way to
pacify Alison, something Alison wants, anything. But of course
it's a mirage.
     Frankie says: "Why?"
     Alison shrugs. "I've decided I don't want the
circumstances."
     "You don't want a gay life?"
     Nervous, Alison looks around to see if anyone heard. "Yes,
that's it."
     "Oh shit," Frankie says.
     Alison blushes. "I was hoping we'd stay friends."
     Frankie looks at her. She says nothing. And then she puts
her napkin on the table and she rises. "I'll take care of the
check on the way out. Goodby, Alison."

                          *     *     *

     In her office in the afternoon, Frankie's mood alternates
between rage and sadness and frustration. Sexual frustration. She
understands that with Alison it was more sex than anything else.
Even thinking about Alison now causes her juices to flow. She
wanted to be with Alison this afternoon, and now instead it's
over, Alison gone from her life, the affair ended. How can I be
so stupid? Frankie thinks. The only bedrock in her life is
Valerie. Loyal Valerie. Oh yes.
     Frankie leaves the office early and she goes to
Bloomingdale's. Inside the store, she passes a mirror and she
stops to stare at herself. Well-groomed young female attorney who
might be a dyke but who might not. What's her niche?  She brushes
a fleck of lint off her thigh. Then she finds the lingerie
department and she buys a black neglig,e and she has it gift
wrapped. Is the salesgirl wondering who the gift is for?
     "Would you like a card?"
     "No, that's not necessary."
     The girl gives Frankie a smug smile. Frankie thinks of
something to say, but rather than prolong the farce she takes her
package and she leaves. Some women are such rotten bitches, so
bitchy they can't be answered.

                          *     *     *

     In the evening, Frankie kisses Valerie. "Have a nice day?"
     Valerie shrugs. "Not much of anything."
     "I missed you."
     Valerie whimpers. "You did?"
     Frankie kisses her again, her tongue sliding over Valerie's
mouth. "I bought you a present."
     "You did?"
     Frankie brings her the Bloomingdale's box, and she sits and
she watches Valerie as Valerie giggles and hurries to open the
box.
     She's beautiful, Frankie thinks. She's more beautiful than
Alison.
     Valerie moans with joy as she pulls out the black neglig,e.
     "Oh Frankie!"
     "Do you like it?"
     "I love it! I'll try it on, okay?"
     "Sure."
     While Valerie is gone, Frankie turns on some music and she
pours out two glasses of white wine. Pity she hadn't thought of
champagne. She closes the blinds and she turns down some of the
lights in the living room. She's eager now, all the anger and
pain of the afternoon washed away, the only thought in her mind
the next few hours with Valerie.
     My only love, Frankie thinks.
     Valerie comes into the room wearing the black neglig,e and
high heels, blushing, her dark triangle visible through the sheer
folds.
     "I love you," Valerie says.
     And Frankie says: "Come over here and kiss me."

                               end

All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated.
Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com

A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T. can be found at
the following URL: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Katherine_T
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