Lovers

by Katherine-T
katherine-t@earthlink.net
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Katherine_T/www/.


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 negligee Frankie bought her shortly after they became
lovers.

Valerie remembers now how embarrassed Frankie seemed giving her
the negligee, Frankie blushing when Valerie pulled the fluffy
thing out of the box and squealed with joy that she loved
negligees. Happy she could wear one and look good in it. Now
slipping into the black negligee. 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 negligee.
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
negligee 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 negligee 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 negligee 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 negligee 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 negligee.

"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 negligee 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
