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                  /)|     KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF    |(\
                 / )|         DIRECTORIES        |( \
              __(  (|____________________________|)  )__
             ((( \  \ >  /_)              ( \  < /  / )))
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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don’t type things myself."  I think it’s  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Hold the Line - Part 1 (phone Sex)
by Anonymous - 1995

**

RING. RING. "Hello?"

"Hello. To whom am I speaking, please?"

"This is Tom Phillips. Who is this?"

"Let's not bother about that, all right? You're just going to listen very
carefully to everything I say, answer my questions honestly, and do
anything I tell you, right?"

"Um. Yes, I guess I am."

"Good. Now, Tom, I've called you completely at random to ask you a
question: who's the most attractive woman you know? Think carefully."

"Hmm, let's see . . . I'd have to say that would be Michelle, Michelle
Golding. She's a dancer, a friend of my wife's, and she's . . . well, I
think she's absolutely gorgeous."

"Fine. Do you have her phone number?"

"Hang on a second, I'll have to look it up. Yeah, it's 555-2613."

"Got it. Tell me, Tom, does your wife know how attractive you think
Michelle is?"

"Well, sometimes she comes over to the house for dinner, and
Marilyn--that's my wife--always teases me afterwards. She says my eyes bug
out when I look at her."

"Do they?"

"Pardon?"

"Do your eyes bug out?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I probably look at her a little harder than I
ought to, but if you'd seen this girl . . ."

"Mmm-hmm. I may get around to doing that, some time. Say, Tom, how long
have you been married?"

"Fifteen years."

"Wow. Tell you what: tonight when you get into bed with your wife, you'll
find that she looks exactly like Michelle. You'll feel like a horny
teenager when you look at her, and act accordingly. Make her wonder what's
got into you all of a sudden, all right? Don't tell her anything about it,
though, and don't mention this phone call to anyone. You won't even
remember speaking to me, and when you wake up tomorrow, you won't recall
why you were suddenly so excited last night. Got all that?"

"Yes. How . . . ?"

"Don't you worry about that. Bye, now."

"Good-bye." CLICK.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

RING. RING. RI- "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Michelle?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm a friend of Tom Phillips. I think you know his wife?"

"Oh, yeah. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Michelle, you can listen very carefully to me, and do whatever I
say, without question or hesitation. Don't hang up, just listen. Believe
whatever I say, experience whatever I tell you to experience. Understand?"

"Ahum. Yes."

"Good. You'll enjoy following my instructions. It makes you feel good to do
whatever I say. Are you standing up?"

"Yes."

"Stand on one foot, until I say you can stop. There, doesn't that feel
nice?"

"Yeah, it does. Is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Oh, lots of stuff, don't you worry. But I've been careless--are you alone
at the moment?"

"Yes, I am."

"Nobody else around at all?"

"No, I'm the only one in my apartment."

"Good. There's a bit of a crackle on the line: are you talking on a
portable phone?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect. Put your foot down, and go find a full-length mirror--do you have
one?"

"Yes, it's in my bedroom. I'm walking there now. Why does it feel so good
to do what you tell me?"

"Don't think about that, just think about obeying, all right? Your top
priority is pleasing me, isn't it? And I'm pleased when you follow orders
as well as you possibly can."

"I'm at the mirror, now."

"What are you wearing, Michelle?"

"Jeans and a T-shirt."

"No, I mean everything that you have on."

"Oh, sorry. Tennis socks, red jeans, panties, a T-shirt, a bra. And silver
earrings. That's it."

"Can anyone see into your bedroom?"

"No, I'm on the fifteenth floor. The door to the balcony is glass, but
there are no other tall buildings around."

"Fine. I'd like you take off all of your clothes for me. Describe what
you're doing as you do it."

"All right, I'll have to hold the phone against my shoulder. I'm taking off
my socks, now. Now I'm unzipping my jeans, and pulling them off. I just
took off my panties. May I put the phone down to take off my shirt?"

"Go ahead."

"Okay . . . There, it's off, and I took off my bra, too."

"So you're now wearing nothing but earrings, yes?"

"Right. Should I take them off?"

"No, that's fine. Take a look at yourself in that full- length mirror,
Michelle. I want you to describe yourself to me, honestly and in detail.
Start from the top and work your way down."

"Well, my hair is dark, and straight, and comes down to about my shoulders.
My skin is dark, too--I'm black, by the way. My face is sort of round, my
nose is fairly small, and people tell me that I'm full-lipped, whatever
that means. My neck is long and slender, I'd say, and my shoulders and wide
for my height, and muscular. I'm a dancer, so I work my arms and legs a
lot. My, um, tits are, well, fairly large, but not huge or anything. I
think my stomach is one of my best features--I work on it like crazy,
sit-ups and stuff, and it's a washboard, if you know what that means?"

"Yes, I do. Go on."

"My waist narrows down, then my hips flare out kind of suddenly. My butt
is, well, on the big side, I guess, but tight. I keep my, you know, pubic
hair, trimmed and shaved on the sides, for when I'm wearing small costumes
and swimsuits and stuff. My, ah, pussy is, um . . . well, I don't know what
there is to describe, exactly."

"That's fine. Go on."

"My thighs are big and muscular, from the dancing again, and my boyfriend
says they're my best thing, better than my abs, but I dunno. My calves are
strong, too, and my feet are, well, just regular feet, I guess. Small, and
high arches. Right now I've got red nail polish on my toenails. Oh, and I'm
just under five-eight."

"Well, I must say that you sound very lovely, Michelle. You're glad that I
think so, aren't you? In fact, you're getting turned on right now. Thinking
about me looking at you is getting you wet, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. I wish you were here, to see me for real."

"But I can be there, my dear. In your mind, at least. Why don't you lie
down on your bed?"

"Okay, I'm doing it. My legs are spread apart, so you could see everything,
if you were here."

"You're beautiful, Michelle."

"Ahhh. God, say that again. Better yet, wherever you are, come over here
right now."

"All in good time. Wait a minute . . . are you expecting anyone?"

"No, nobody's coming over tonight."

"Okay. Now, you're going to feel whatever I tell you to feel--you'll feel
it clearly, just like someone was really doing things to you. Maybe you'd
better take off those earrings, now. Done? All right, someone is nuzzling
your left ear. Feel it? Licking, sucking, nipping the lobe, doing all the
things you like best."

"Oh, man. That's nice."

"That's me, Michelle. I'm there in the room with you, only you can't see
me, only feel me, and I have as many mouths and tongues as I'll need. When
I add new sensations, the old ones will keep on going, all right? I'm
working on the other ear as well, now, both at once."

"Mmm."

"Now I'm teasing your two breasts with my invisible tongues, swirling
around the edge of the nipples, doing whatever makes you hottest."

"Holy shit, that's nice!"

"You're getting more and more turned on all the time. Listening to my voice
turns you on. The invisible mouths turn you on. The idea that I have the
power to do this to you turns you on. You're getting so excited, Michelle."

"Damn right. I don't care how you're doing this, I love it!"

"Of course you do. A mouth is kissing its way down your stomach, now, down
lower and lower, between your legs now, licking the insides of your thighs,
teasing, getting closer but not quite touching that spot, closer, moving
around it, licking, brushing over the inside of your legs, up and down . .
."

"God, I can't stand it!"

" . . . and now it's licking your clit, a nice, steady rhythm, one, two,
three, four, five. It's doing all the things that you like, licking,
sucking, flicking, teasing. Feel it? Now, don't you come until I say so,
Michelle."

"Ahhhh. I have a, ohh, friend who's heavily into, Goddd, phone sex. I'll
bet it's, ahhh, nothing like this."

"I'll bet it isn't."

"Are you sure you couldn't come here and fuck me, right here, right now?"

"Not quite yet, honey. Glad you asked, though. It shows you're thinking
about pleasing me. I like that."

"Glad, hahh, to hear it. Ohh, God."

"Tell me what you feel, Michelle."

"It's like there's about five invisible you's, hooo, all around me. Two are
kissing my ears, two are, umm . . . where was I? . . . yeah, two are
kissing my tits, and one is, ohhh, doing fantastic things to my clit."

"There's a sixth invisible me. He's sliding his big, hard cock into your
pussy, and he's starting to push it in and out, faster and faster. Feel
it?"

"Uhhh."

"Would you like to come, Michelle?"

"Are you kidding? Yes! Please! Pretty please!"

"With sugar on top?"

"With anything you, ahhh, like on top. Or on the bottom. Or anywhere else
you want it."

"I think you're falling in love with me, Michelle. You are, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Yes, oh, God, I love you. I'd do, mmmm, anything for you, you've got
to know that."

"I certainly do know that. I'll let you have an orgasm in just a moment.
Tell me, are you usually noisy or quiet in bed?"

"I'm pretty quiet, most of the time."

"How's the soundproofing in your building? Do people hear things through
the walls?"

"You can, yes-s-s-s, hear an ant cough through these damn walls."

"Tell you what, Michelle, you can have an orgasm if you promise to scream
for me. Be vocal. Whoop it up. Express yourself. Will you do that?"

"Yeah, yeah. Anything. Am I going to come now?"

"Soon. I'm going to count backwards: when I get down to one, you'll have
the best orgasm you've ever had, all right? Five . . . four . . . three . .
. two . . . one."

"Oh, God . . . ahh, ahh, ahhhh . . . AHH-AIIIIEEEEEE, YESSSSS, OH, GODDD,
YESS, AH-HA~HA, ah, oh, ohhh . . ."

"Oh, well done. The invisible me's are gone, now, Michelle. Stand up. Are
you sweating?"

"A little bit. I'm really, um, damp, down there, though."

"When I tell you to hang up, go and take a nice, long shower, okay? You've
done very well, Michelle. I'm quite pleased with how you've responded to my
suggestions."

"I'm so glad. If there's anything else I can do to make you happy, just
tell me, please. Anything."

"I think there may just be. Be home tomorrow at seven o'clock in the
evening, and keep the line free. Wait for my call. You'll dream about me
tonight, and think about me all day tomorrow. Don't tell anyone about this
phone call, though, and don't act strangely in any way. Do you have
previous plans?"

"I was going to work out at the gym at around that time, but I can be here,
no problem. I'll exercise here--I want to keep in shape for you."

"A nice thought. I can tell I'm going to enjoy our relationship almost as
much as you are. Well, let's see, have I covered everything? Oh, right.
This boyfriend of yours, what's his name?"

"Richard. Richard Price."

"And his phone number?"

"555-7635."

"Terrific. I may give ol' Rick a call. I don't want you to call him, until
I say it's okay, though."

"You've got it."

"All right, I think that'll be all for now. Good night, Michelle. Pleasant
dreams. Hang up the phone, now."

"Bye." CLICK.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

RING. RING. RING. "Yello."

"Richard Price?"

"Yep. Who's this?"

"A friend of Michelle's. An awfully attractive girl you've got there,
Rick."

"Who the hell are you? What is this?"

"Doing worry, I'm not a lunatic, if that's what you're thinking, Rick."

"Yeah? I don't know who the fuck you are, but you keep away from me and
Michelle, all right? And don't call me Rick." CLICK.

RING. RI- "Now, listen, jerk . . ."

"Don't hang up, Rick, just listen to me carefully. You're going to do
anything I say, without question, all right? Believe what I say, think what
I want you to think. Understand?"

"Urk. Yeah, but . . ."

"No but's, Rick. Don't ask unnecessary questions. I think I'll keep calling
you Rick--that's fine with you, isn't it?"

"Sure."

"And are you alone at the moment? Expecting anyone?"

"Yes, I'm alone, and no, I'm not expecting anyone."

"Good. Now, how long have you and Michelle been seeing one another?"

"About six months."

"Are things serious between you?"

"Nah. Not for me, anyway, I'm not sure about her sometimes. She's a great
lay, you know, that's all. I'm not thinking about settling down, getting
married--forget that shit, right?"

"I see. Do you love her?"

"Nah."

"Do you say that you love her?"

"Well, hey, sometimes it's the only way . . ."

"To get into bed with her, you mean."

"Yeah. You know how it is."

"Well, not really, Rick--sleeping with women has never exactly been a
problem for me, for reasons that should be fairly obvious. I may even ask
Michelle to sleep with me. How would you feel about that?"

"I'd want to rip your throat out."

"No. Wrong. You like the idea. In fact, you love the idea. More than that,
you can't stand the thought of me not sleeping with Michelle."

"Yeah. You should do it."

"Well, gee, Rick, I don't know . . . I'm not sure, I'm sort of having
second thoughts about that. Maybe I won't."

"Aw, no, man, don't do that. You ought to fuck her, you really should.
She's fantastic in bed."

"Really? Well, maybe if you begged a little . . ."

"Please, sleep with Michelle. Please, please, please! I'm begging you. I
won't be mad. I want you to do it. C'mon, you've got to! Please?"

"Oh, all right, if you insist. There, that's all settled, then. I'd hate to
think I was sneaking around behind your back, Rickie. Let's see, what else
can we talk about? Tell me something else about yourself . . . how about:
when did you lose your virginity?"

"When I was seventeen."

"Hmph. And are you exclusively heterosexual?"

"Damn right! I'm not a fuckin' faggot, man!"

"My, my! Such hostility, Rick. It's quite unwarranted, you know. I happen
to be straight myself, but what in the world is wrong with being gay?"

"It's not natural."

"Most things we do aren't natural, my son. You know, I think a little
exposure to the other side of things would do you a world of good, maybe
open your eyes a little. Hmm . . . For the next, oh, five days, you're not
going to find women sexually attractive at all, starting right now. Women
just won't do it for you, right? Tits and curves and pussies, they'll just
leave you limp and uninterested. Do you have any soft porn around?"

"I have some copies of Playboy and Penthouse in the bedroom."

"Go get one of them, then come right back to the phone."

"Just a sec . . . All right, I've got it."

"Open it up and flip through it. Look at the pictures. Feel anything?"

"Well . . . naw, these girls aren't sexy at all."

"Not just those girls, Rick. All girls. For the next five days. Now, guys,
on the other hand, you are going to find more and more attractive all the
time. You'll find yourself looking at pictures of male models, noticing the
male leads in movies, and getting turned on by them. You're going to start
having erotic dreams about other men. Tomorrow you'll go and buy a magazine
with pictures of naked guys in it, something like Playgirl, and you'll find
that the photos will get you all hot and bothered. You'll masturbate
looking at them. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Don't sound so glum, Rick, this'll build character. Now, for that same
five days, I don't want you to call Michelle, or contact her in any way.
The two of you had a big fight the other day, remember, and now you're
really angry at each other. You can recall the fight, can't you? What was
it about, Rick?"

"It was, um . . . she was accusing me of just using her for sex."

"A perceptive woman, our Michelle. Well, if anyone wonders why you haven't
been seeing her, that's what you'll tell them, all right? And don't let
anyone try to patch things up by arranging a meeting, or anything like
that. This is a minor squabble, it'll blow over in a little while. In five
days, to be exact. After that, you'll revert to your usual sexual
orientation, but you'll always remember that period in your life when you
felt the other way, and you won't look on homosexuality with such
hostility, okay? At that point, you can give Michelle a call, and
apologize. I think she'll forgive you. Until then, I'll be playing around
with our dear Michelle."

"Including fucking her, right?"

"Yes, Rick."

"That's a relief."

"I'm sure it is. All right, let's wrap this up, shall we? When you hang up
the phone, you won't consciously remember this phone call, but you'll keep
following all of my instructions."

"Got it."

"All right, then . . . Oh, wait, I just had a thought. This is a good one,
ha ha! Go out and buy yourself some panties, Rick, and wear them around for
the next little while. Nice frilly ones, silk if you can find it. You'll
feel so sexy wearing them. You can do whatever you like with them when the
five days are over--you won't remember where in the world they came from,
though."

"I understand."

"Good. Well, Rick, enjoy your little swing the other way. Take care, now.
Hang up the phone."

CLICK.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

RING. "Hello?"

"Hello, Michelle."

"Oh, good, it's you!"

"Why, my dear, you sound positively eager."

"I am. I want to do stuff for you, um . . . I'm not sure what to call you."

"Hmm. Why don't you just call me `lover,' okay?"

"You've got it, lover."

"Fine. What are you wearing, Michelle?"

"Panties, a black full-body leotard, a headband, and strap-on weights on my
wrists and ankles. That's everything."

"Of course it is; you're not the sort of person who has to be told things
twice, are you? You've been working out?"

"Yeah. That's what the weights are for. They add a bit of extra
resistance."

"What sorts of exercise do you do with them?"

"Oh, you know, leg lifts, arm lifts, sit-ups with the weights on my chest
to make it tougher. And I wear them while I'm doing aerobics, to get the
muscles working harder."

"Uh-huh. I've just thought of an interesting experiment, Michelle, and I'd
like you to help me with it. Have you got any free weights around?"

"Yes, I have some dumbbells."

"How heavy?"

"I've got five, ten, and fifteen pound sets."

"Go get the fifteen pounders."

"Okay . . . All right, I've got them, lover."

"Good. Now, hold them down at your sides, and lift your arms straight out
to the sides, up to shoulder height. Keep doing that. How does it feel?"

"Its, oof, damn tough! These are heavy suckers, I don't usually use them.
Hoo-boy, this is burning my shoulders!"

"Listen to me, Michelle: those weights aren't heavy at all. They're hollow
plastic, there's no weight to them, they're no problem at all to lift, are
they?"

"Hey . . . yeah, this is a breeze! Why did I think they were heavy,
before?"

"Because . . . they are heavy, Michelle. Feel it? They're big, heavy,
fifteen pound weights."

"Oh. Yeah. Ouch."

"Better stop now, Michelle. I don't want you to strain yourself. Put the
weights down."

"Gladly! Say, can I ask you something, lover?"

"Sure."

"The weights didn't really get light, did they? I mean, I just thought they
did 'cause you told me to, right?"

"Right."

"Then, how . . . ?"

"How did you lift them so easily? I'm not quite sure; I wasn't certain what
would happen if I tried it. I do know that the mind can do some weird
things, especially when I start mucking around with it. I'll bet you'd
eventually stop being able to lift them, if I had you keep going--I think
you're probably straining your muscles just as much as ever, you just
aren't aware of it. But I don't want to do that. Your shoulders will
probably be a bit sore, tomorrow, as it is. No, hang on, there's no reason
for that: you won't feel sore tomorrow from today's exercise, all right?"

"Thanks. You really know how to take care of a girl, lover."

"Aw, shucks. So, I gave your friend Rick a call last night."

"It's Richard. He hates being called Rick."

"Funny, he didn't seem to mind when I did it. We had a nice little chat. He
told me that he isn't in love with you."

"Yeah, I know that. He thinks he's just using me for sex."

"Isn't he?"

"Well, I guess so, but I'm using him back, so it comes out about even, I
reckon. I figure things would have lasted another few months or so, then
I'd have let him down easy and moved on. But of course it doesn't matter
now."

"Why not?"

"I'm in love with someone else, silly! You."

"Oh. Um, right. That may not last much longer than, say, a few more days,
Michelle. I think you and Rick may get back together after that. You had a
big fight the other day, and you're not speaking at the moment. Remember
the fight? You were getting on his case for . . . um, for just using you
for sex. Jeez, that really doesn't make much sense, given what you just
told me, does it? Let's see . . . oh, I know: you weren't really mad at him
about that, you were just using it as an excuse to get rid of him for a
while, you needed some time alone, but of course he wouldn't know that. If
anyone wonders why you two haven't been seeing each other, you can tell
them all about it. In a few days he'll be calling to apologize, and you'll
`forgive' him and the two of you will get back together, for as long as you
like."

"I understand."

"Good. And in the meantime, he'll be wearing panties and drooling over
dirty pictures of other men."

"Richard? He's the world's biggest homophobe!"

"Well, I think that may be about to change. I made a few suggestions, and
he was more than happy to go along."

"Ha ha! That's perfect! I wish I could see it!"

"I do amuse myself, sometimes. While we're on the subject, is there
anything else about him you'd like to see changed, for when you get back
together? Does he treat you all right? He doesn't get violent, or force
himself on you, does he?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Let's see . . . Well, there's maybe one thing,
but . . . No, I couldn't ask you to . . ."

"Out with it, Michelle."

"Well, when we're in bed, he doesn't always spend as much time, you know,
doing, um, oral sex on me, as I'd like. He says he doesn't like it, and I
can't talk him into it very easily."

"Easily fixed, my dear. I think you'll find, when you next encounter Mr.
Price, that performing oral sex is absolutely his favourite part of the
whole experience. Anything else?"

"Can I make him bark like a dog every time I say the word `Pistachio'?"

"Pardon?"

"Just kidding."

"Ah. Right. But enough about him, let's talk about us. I had some things in
mind for this evening, Michelle, but earlier today I was suddenly struck by
a desire to bring someone else in on this, to give you a little company.
You must know lots of dancers?"

"Quite a few."

"Who do you know that's particularly good-looking? Someone . . . oh, let's
get someone Asian, if you can manage it."

"Oh, that's easy. Agnes Hong: she's a good friend of mine, and she makes
guys on the street walk into telephone poles. You want her number?"

"No, I want you to call her. Would she come over if you just called up and
asked her to?"

"Sure. We get together to rent videos a lot; all the stuff our boyfriends
won't look at because it doesn't have enough guns and tits."

"I apologize on behalf of my gender. All right, call her and invite her
over. I'll phone you back in a few minutes to make sure she's coming, and
then I'll give you my number so you can give me a ring when she gets there,
all right?"

"Okay, I'll call her right now."

"Just a normal invitation, Michelle, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Got it, don't worry."

"Bye."

"Talk to you soon, lover." CLICK.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

RING. RI- "Hello."

"Hiya, lover, it's Michelle."

"Glad to hear from you. Is Agnes there?"

"Yes, she's here."

"Michelle, you just forgot my phone number. Now, put Agnes on."

"Right. Agnes, there's somebody who wants to talk to you . . ."

"Hi there, Richard!"

"Nope, this isn't Richard."

"Oh, sorry, I assumed that Michelle . . ."

"No problem. Agnes, I want to you to listen to everything I say, and do
whatever I tell you without stopping to think about it, all right? Think
what I tell you, do what I tell you, no questions, no problems. Can you do
that for me?"

"Gurg. Um, yes, I can."

"Good. You'll find it feels so good to do whatever I tell you to do: it's
exciting, a real turn-on for you. Just relax and follow instructions, let
yourself go. Now, tell me what you're wearing, Agnes."

"Shorts and a blouse."

"No, everything that you have on. Be complete."

"Oh. I'm wearing sandals, black tights with shorts over them, panties, a
silk blouse, and a bra underneath it . . . What are you laughing at,
'Chelle?"

"She just recognizes the question, I imagine. Agnes, in a moment I'm going
to have you hand the phone back to Michelle. While she's on the phone with
me, I want you to do anything she says. Obeying her will feel just as nice
as obeying me. Just stand still and wait for her to tell you what to do.
Now put Michelle back on the line."

"Hi there, lover."

"Michelle, I'd like you to describe Agnes to me, the same way you described
yourself yesterday."

"All right, her hair . . ."

"Wait. You won't be able to do a very thorough job with her wearing all
those clothes, will you? Tell her to take them off."

"Will she do that for me?"

"Just try it."

"You're the boss. Agnes: strip off for me, would you? Hey! She's doing it!"

"Surprise, surprise."

"Hey, this is fun! This would have been useful with Richard, lots of times.
Okay, she's out of her blouse and bra, now, and she's peeling off her
tights. Her shorts are off, and there go the panties. All right, stand up
nice and straight, dear: I need to describe you. Her hair is dark black,
and she keeps it cut short--really cute, I think. Her face is an oval, and
gorgeous: dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, a perky little nose, and
perfect teeth. I'd kill for her skin, it's so smooth, not a flaw on it. Aw,
look, she's blushing! Her shoulders aren't as big as mine, and her arms are
slender but the muscles are defined. Her tits are small, and they stand up
and look at you, even without a bra. Her stomach isn't as developed as
mine, if I do say so myself, but it's flat and smooth. Her waist gets
almost ridiculously narrow, and her legs are amazing: nice and sculpted,
all the way down. She's careful to keep the hair around her, um, pussy,
shaved--so she can wear those killer bikinis she brings out in the summer .
. . oh, there she goes, blushing again. Turn around, honey. Her ass is very
nicely shaped, sort of like a heart, and you could bounce a quarter off it.
Her feet are . . . well, cute. I don't know how it's possible to have cute
feet, but she does. Oh, and she's probably about four or five inches
shorter than I am."

"She sounds like quite a looker. Good choice, my dear. Hold the phone up to
Agnes' ear for a bit, and bring it back when she nods, all right? Agnes?"

"Yes."

"You have a boyfriend, right?"

"Yes."

"Serious?"

"We're recently engaged."

"Oh, congratulations. What does he think is your best feature, physically?"

"Well, my butt, I guess. He sometimes says that he thinks Chinese women
have the best buns in the world."

"A bit of a sweeping generalization, but not without a certain amount of
truth, I'd have to say. Nod your head, Agnes. Michelle?"

"I'm here."

"Agnes is a very attractive woman, isn't she?"

"Yeah. Like I said, guys go gonzo for her."

"Mmm-hmm. But do you find her attractive, yourself?"

"Well, I can see that she's good-looking, but . . . well, I'm not gay, you
know."

"But you're not as narrow-minded as Rick, are you?"

"No, no. Hell, whatever turns you on, I figure. Guys have always done it
for me, that's all."

"And that's fine. But right now, as you look at Agnes, you're starting to
find that you can see why guys think she's so terrific. You're getting very
turned on by her body. You're wondering what it would be like to run your
hands over that skin you envy so much, to have those soft lips kissing you,
touching you all over, moving down between your legs . . . Getting wet yet,
Michelle?"

"Oh, yeah. Shit, I've never felt this way about a woman before, but, man,
she's one sexy package. Ha! You should have seen the look she just gave
me!"

"Let me have a word with her; hold the phone up for her. Wait for the nod,
Michelle, and don't you dare act on those impulses yet . . . Agnes,
sweetheart, how's it going?"

"I'm fine, I guess. I was just sort of wondering . . ."

"Yes? You can ask."

"What did you do to Michelle? She's looking at me really funny. And sort of
panting."

"She wants you, Agnes. That nice little body of yours is driving her nuts.
She's never had an impure thought about another woman in her life, but
right now she wants to drag you off to bed as soon as possible, because I
told her to feel that way. Comments?"

"It's hard to believe. Michelle has always been so straight . . ."

"And you haven't?"

"Well, you know, a lot of the girls in the company have played around with
each other a little bit. I wouldn't call myself bi, but I've been with a
couple of women. It was . . . fun. Different."

"Fun because it was different, maybe? Because it was breaking out of the
normal conventions?"

"Uh, yeah, something like that, I guess."

"Sorry, didn't mean to get all philosophical on you. Tell you what, Agnes,
take your hands and run them down the front of Michelle's body, from her
neck down to her crotch, all right?"

"Okay . . . Hey, keep the phone still, 'Chelle! She seemed to enjoy that.
To say the least."

"I thought she might. Agnes, Michelle is about the sexiest woman you've
ever laid eyes on, isn't she? It gets you turned on just looking at her."

"Oh, yeah."

"Where are you two at the moment?"

"We're in her TV room."

"In a little bit, Michelle's going to strip and go into her bedroom and lie
down on the bed. When she does, I want you to follow her, and go to work on
her, between her legs. Bring her to orgasm for me, okay? Nod your head,
Agnes . . . All right, Michelle, are you still wearing your exercise
clothes?"

"Yes."

"Take them off."

"Okay . . . done."

"Go into the bedroom. Lie down on your bed, on your back, and spread your
legs apart."

"All right, I'm here. Agnes, what are you . . .? Oh. Mmmm."

"Feels nice?"

"That's the understatement, ahh, of the year. Man, she's good at this!"

"She's done it before, I hear."

"Yeah, I heard her say that. I never, s-s-s, knew that."

"I learn the darndest things about people by talking to them on the phone.
I'm going to leave you two to enjoy each other, in a moment, but first,
I've thought of something I meant to ask you earlier: Are there any other
women you know who've had problems with their boyfriends? Beatings, date
rapes, crazy behaviour of any kind? Tell Agnes to stop for a minute, and
ask her to think about it, too. You two confer about it, then tell me."

"Right . . . Yeah, okay, we've thought of a few of the girls who've been
dating some real jerks. Elaine, Pratma, and Constance. You want their
numbers?"

"Yes."

"Elaine's is 555-3356. Pratma's is 555-0093, and Constance's is 555-5325.
We could never figure out why they put up with some of the shit they've
told us about. Can I ask what you're planning?"

"I'm going to call them, get the numbers of these guys, and then I'll have
a little chat with them. About their behaviour."

"What'll you do to them?"

"Well, I used to get really angry about that kind of thing, and I'm afraid
I did some pretty nasty stuff. Nowadays I mostly just tell them to cut it
out--or else I give them a nice, strong incentive to play nice. Spreading a
little sweetness and light in the world, you know. Sometimes I get them to
bark like a dog whenever they hear the word `Pistachio.'"

"Ha, ha."

"Actually, I've never done that one, but I often have a bit of fun with
them while I'm at it. They deserve it, I figure. On the other hand, maybe I
deserve it just as . . . Well, never mind about that . . . I want you to
repeat to Agnes what I'm about to say to you, all right? You're going to
stay in the apartment all night, making love to each other as often as you
feel like, which will be quite often considering how horny you're both
feeling right now. Enjoy it; enjoy each other's bodies. Explore each other.
Experiment. Okay, pass that on to Agnes . . . Did she get all of it,
Michelle?"

"Yeah. She's grinning from ear to ear. So am I."

"I figured you would be. Oh, and tell Agnes that she's to be back at your
apartment at seven o'clock tomorrow evening, and she's not to talk to
anyone about this phone call, or your night together. Tell her to bring
along a suitcase with a few changes of clothes, and a couple of bikinis,
the skimpiest she owns--you'll need a couple, too. Of course, you'll be
home at seven, too . . . and don't you talk to anyone about what you're
going to do with Agnes, either."

"As if! Anything else I can do for you, lover?"

"Ah, my dear, your willingness to please is pleasure enough. Have fun."

"I'm sure I will . . . Agnes, quit it, that tickles!"

"Good night, 'Chelle."

"'Night, lover. Now, c'mere, you!" CLICK.



