Lesbian Induction

I thought it was time I told the Lit world how I found I was bisexual. I was just over nineteen when it happened. I'm well into my forties now. If you want to see what I looked like during this story, check my bio.

I hope you enjoy this.

Love

Amanda.

I was lying on my front. He was on his back. We were both naked for we had just had sex. His hand rested on the small of my back, mine was on his hip. Both hands would occasionally stray; his into the crease of my bottom, mine into his crinkly pubic hairs and onto his semi-hard dick. We both knew that we would have sex again quite soon.

I was just nineteen at the time. I was also inexperienced. I had reluctantly in some ways given my virginity away a year earlier and had subsequently slept with him a few times before we broke up. I then went with another guy of my age for a few months having sex occasionally before being pulled by this older guy of thirty two a few weeks ago. We had been having sex regularly since then, mainly at his flat, but a few times in his car. I found that very exciting. He had taught me a lot.

As we lie on his bed half dozing and softly caressing each other in preparation for the 'second round' he asked.

"Have you ever been with another girl Sammi?"

"No" I answered truthfully.

"Would you like to?"

"I don't know, it's never occurred to me."

"Ever been propositioned?" He asked running his fingers along the inside of the crease of my bottom. Him caressing and stroking me there had been new to me in my sexual experience. New, but amazingly exciting for it felt very naughty, almost taboo.

"No."

"Ever felt attracted?"

"No, not really."

"What do you mean not really?"

"Well I see girls and women of course who I think are very sexy and beautiful."

"But have you ever thought you would like to touch them or be touched by them or maybe kiss them."

"No" I lied for I had many times. "Why are you asking me these questions?" I asked as he pulled me onto my side facing away from him.

As I felt his cock between my legs the head of it finding my lips, his hand snaked round me and he cupped my B cup boob.

"Because I would love to see you with another girl" he whispered into my ear as he pushed himself into me.

I grunted at the lovely sensation.

"Does that mean yes?" He asked as he started to fuck me. "For I have a friend who would happily join us.

*

Despite dropping out of uni I managed somehow to get a job as a copywriter in the head office of what became the largest advertising agency in the world for a time, Saatchi and Saatchi. It was 1985 and I was nineteen. London was still 'swinging' and it was fun place to work and live, especially in an industry like advertising. I was constantly 'star struck' with the engaging and glamorous people I met and the fabulous clubs, pubs, restaurants and parties I got to go to through work.

Although I was sexually very inexperienced and rather naïve, I realised that most of the men at these events were friendly towards me mainly for one reason, they wanted to fuck me. When I had started at the agency the HR lady had explained that the culture is very male orientated and that girls like me are often looked on as 'cannon fodder.'

"Just a friendly tip" she'd said as we completed my two day induction programme. "Do everything to keep you knickers on and don't give it away easily or too frequently. Reputations are easy to loose and terribly hard to get back."

It was god advice and I made a vow to not let any of the guys at work get too close to me and certainly, I promised myself, none would fuck me. After I had been there for about six months and was getting on well I had managed, just about to keep that vow, well the second part. Still no one had fucked me, but I had to admit that a couple had kissed and groped me and one of the senior account managers had got my tits out of my bra in his locked office after a client party. Career-wise, things were progressing very well. I was writing copy for a few small, mainly print ads and was acting as deputy copywriter on a large whisky account. It was challenging, but exciting.

I went on my first shoot for a commercial for that account. It was mainly shot outside rather than in a studio where it would be finished off. I couldn't believe how many of us there were on the shoot. There were, effectively, three teams; the agency people, the film crew and the production and direction team. There must have been at least twenty of us in Scotland, for four days

We were filming in just outside Perth and were staying on a hunting and fishing complex that had a number of lodges scattered around a central reception, bar and restaurant. Each cabin was quite luxurious some being one bedroomed and others two or three. We had just about finished and were having a sort of wrap party in the bar of the complex on the last night of shooting even though I as the junior and a couple of others were staying on for most of the next day to tidy things up. The rest of the crew and agency people were leaving early the next day to get back to London. We had been advised to 'glam' up a bit and I was wearing a red, short sleeved, shift dress with, of course, quite large, Dynasty type shoulder pads. It was made from a thin clingy material, had a scooped front so my smallish boobs created a nice cleavage and it ended fashionably about six inches above my knee. As we were in Scotland in October it was cold so I was wearing black tights.

With an early start for most people, it was a rather lack-lustre party for they just wanted to get to bed and set off home. Before that, though, we all had dinner together and I found myself next to Marcia. She was the director, a very powerful person on a shoot. She was also known to be one of the best in London and was quite famous in the ad industry at the time. She was in her mid-thirties at least. Very slim, and just about my height with an almost boy like figure she had jet black hair cut in a short bob around her chin line and very dark, large, mysteriously probing eyes. She was very powerful and authoritative around the shoot hurling as much abuse at the senior art directors as she did at the cameramen when they screwed things up. She had no hesitation whatsoever in using both the 'f' and 'c' words in front of everyone, but then in the ad world such swearing was commonplace even with women present, something I was not at all used to.

I, obviously knew her from the shoot, but hadn't chatted to her much up until then. At the dinner she was very attentive asking me loads of questions about my job and career aspirations, about why I'd left uni., about the agency and boy-friends. She was surprisingly easy to talk to and I found myself a little in awe of her and the fact that such a senior person in the industry was bothering with a young, junior copywriter like me.

I drank quite a bit as I thought everyone had and was laughing and joking at her witty and rather sacrilegious views on the ad industry. She told me about her production company and how that had enabled her to have a house in Hampstead and an apartment in Marbella, to drive a Porsche and to have a boat. I had heard rumours of her possible lesbian tendencies, but then the guys gossiped about most women who were either 'right slags,' 'real goers' or 'lessies,' this was well before PC reared its ugly head. Hence, when her attention became a bit closer than with straight woman I was a little scared, but also hugely flattered. After all she was an older, experienced woman, a luminary in the ad industry and a very striking and, I suppose, sexy woman. But there was nothing in my experience to call upon, I had no idea how to handle her or what to do. So when she rested her fingertips on my wrist a couple of times or placed her hand on my shoulder to emphasise points I didn't flinch or move away for I had no idea what to do. When she turned her head, which accentuated her long, slender neck, and looked at me she held my gaze probably longer than was needed. Although my womanly instincts told me one thing, I wasn't at all sure that I was even reading the situation correctly; after all creative people are very 'touchy feely.' I may even, I suppose, have looked her in the eyes and held her gaze as she did mine. I didn't know for sure that they were attempts to check me out for they were only fleeting moments so I just ignored them and did nothing to overtly indicate whether I would be interested or not. In any case, I thought, she probably wouldn't be interested in a kid like me and in all probability the touches were her just her being a bit lovey as many in the film industry are. But when she leaned back and let her hand fall on the seat of my chair so that it brushed against my bottom I wasn't quite so sure.

Dinner broke up and a number of the more junior members adjourned to the very small bar. I was in a corner at the end of the bar sitting on a stool when Marcia and most of 'brass' came in making the bar even more crowded. She stood at the bar and bought everyone drinks edging a little closer to me as people picked theirs up. When the serving was finished she stood half in front of me leaning back against the bar her body shielding my legs from the others view. The rather short skirt had ridden well up my thighs so quite a lot of my legs were on view. Everyone was talking and laughing and having a roaring time when I felt something on my knee. I looked down and saw her hand moving away. Another accident or an overt gesture, I wondered still not being sure?

It happened again a few minutes later and then a third time. What she was doing was seemingly accidentally just letting her hand fall down so that if we wanted it could be seen as an inadvertent gesture. A mistake I suppose. But what I felt was becoming clear was that they were not mistakes. Especially when on the fourth time the back of her hand ran all the way up my leg from the knee to the bottom of the skirt. A little panicky I looked around to make sure no one could see but was reassured on that for Marcia had, if anything, moved more in front of me blocking my legs completely from anyone's view.

Still, though, she was acting if nothing was happening, turning from chatting to me stuck in the corner and other members of the crew across the bar separating what she was doing to me from them. Still, though, there was nothing too overt and I realised that she was still making sure that there was a way out without her losing face for now she had both her hands wrapped around her brandy glass and was asking me about my job at Saatchis as if nothing at all was happening. But then as a group of the crew burst into loud laughter at probably some really filthy joke she turned to look at them so that her back was towards me. I watched her hand once more slip down and behind her. This time it did not brush my nylon covered leg. This time it was not a quick or surreptitious movement. No this time I watched as the perfectly manicured, white, square cut nails stretched over the fleshy part of my leg just above my knee and I saw the fingers encircle it. They lingered there squeezing gently. There was no way that this could be anything other than a very obvious caress; a suggestive gesture and an invitation to me.

I didn't know what to do. I was excited and flattered at her attention. I was, though, slightly alarmed and concerned. I was well outside my comfort zone and area of familiarity. This was clearly big girl's stuff. It was beyond the messing around with boys that my short sex life had experienced. It was also with someone who had the reputation of possibly being lesbian, even though she was married and had children. I didn't look at myself as having such tendencies. I was also a little confused by the drink and the party atmosphere. Confused for sure, but also very excited and I have to admit aroused. Sitting there on that stool my skirt above mid-thigh looking down and seeing Marcia's fingers, almost idly now, gently touching my leg some eight inches above my knee I just didn't know how to react. I didn't know what I wanted to happen or what I thought might happen or indeed if anything would happen. My heart was beating and my mind was racing as I simply stared at that hand and those tempting, suggestive fingers on my leg.

I could move and I guess no face would be lost. I could slip, off the stool, go to the loo, join another group or move away so that I would show I wasn't interested. Or I could, perhaps, place my hand on hers showing that I was interested, maybe press my leg more firmly or even touch her back to show that I was receptive to her. I knew that I couldn't do that for I was not particularly attracted to her, at least not on a sexual level. In the end I took the line of least resistance. I did nothing. I did nothing to encourage or deter her. I in fact put the ball firmly back in her court, or so I thought.

Marcia was, though, clearly too experienced to be put off or discouraged by such a simple gesture. No she'd been here before I reckoned. She knew what to do. She must have recognised something in me, some signs or signals. I had no idea that I had transmitted any sign of either, being bi, interested in her or being available. She must have known that somehow she'd primed me, built me up perfectly, maybe aroused my interest and reduced my resistance.

She immediately recognised the signal I was transmitting about events now being back in her court. And she was able, ready and so eager to return it right back in mine. After a moment or two instead of just removing her hand she slid it up my legs briefly letting her fingers go under the hem of my skirt and giving the inside of my thigh a little squeeze. There was absolutely no way that could be a mistake and that gesture could be nothing but a come on, a request, an asking for something from me. Turning she stared right into my eyes and with a look of relief, pleasure and assurance on her face she smiled and raised her thin eyebrows. I did nothing, but smiled back. I think it was then that she felt she had got me. I just couldn't think. I didn't know what to do or even think. I had no clear idea on what I was feeling or what I wanted. I couldn't recall ever really having a lesbian feeling in my life. I had never wondered what another girl or woman looked like naked and I had never had a strong urge to kiss or be kissed by another female. Yet here I was sitting on a bar stool as a much older woman than me made an overt lesbian gesture towards me. I suppose by sitting there as her fingertips ran along the hem of my skirt I was accepting her invitation. But what was the invitation to I wondered in my slightly tipsy state?

The party started breaking up shortly after that and following the usual rather exaggerated kisses and hugs. I should have left with the other agency personnel, but something stopped me. There were only four or five of the film unit left with Marcia and me. The others were sitting round the fire in easy chairs with Marcia standing with them. They were finishing a bottle of the local single malt. I was still where I had been all evening in the corner by the bar. I had remained sitting on the stool and forgetfully I had not pulled my skirt down so it was now almost up to my crutch. Fortunately, in some ways, tights provide a woman with security and to an extent, protection. It seems far more reasonable to show most of your legs when in tights than with bare legs or when wearing stockings. That's why I guess we tend to 'flash our pins' more when wearing them, that and knowing almost whatever happens our panties will not be exposed through the nylon, particularly if they are the same colours and mine were, black.

Marcia turned, looked at me, smiled and raised her whisky glass. She mouthed what looked like 'salute' said something to the guys and walked over to me. I was hellishly nervous as she came up close to me and bought me another drink. She smiled at me very confidently and said lightly.

"Your place or mine Amanda?" I stammered out that I didn't know and she said. "Why don't you make your goodbyes now and wait in your cabin for me? I'll only be twenty minutes or so."

Almost transfixed with the situation and the awe I suppose of firstly being so comprehensively 'pulled' and secondly by such a rich, famous and glamorous woman wanting me I did as she said. As I said my good nights to the camera crew I hardly thought about what I was doing. It didn't really hit me that I had just accepted a lesbian advance and that I had agreed to her visiting my room presumably for us to have sex. It also didn't occur to me that the four guys might have realised what was happening between Marcia and me as equally I didn't even consider that this might be quite the norm for her.

In the room, though, the nerves really set in and I didn't know what to do. I wondered for a moment if I was dreaming and I would wake up. Could this really be happening? Could a mature and worldly-wise, successful woman like Marcia really want me? But more to the point, I realised, could a young, rather sexually naïve junior in an ad agency, with absolutely no bi experience and no previous desires to have sex with another woman, be receptive to such a situation. Smiling to myself as I recalled the feel of Marcia's fingers on my leg, I realised that yes she could be receptive for accompanying the nerves was a tingling all over my skin, a heat in my tummy and fullness in my breasts, which seemed to feel so heavy and warm. I recognised that I was sexually aroused and that Marcia was causing that.

But I didn't know what to do. I had no experience bank to call on. I'd never had sex in a hotel only in a guy's flat, my bed at home once and a few times in a car. I had never had to wait in my room for 'my lover' and of course I had never been in a position where sex with another woman was the only agenda item.

ButHowever, was done was done. I had gone with the flow with her and I now had either, to accept it, get on with it and presumably be fucked by her or, I had to get out of the situation I had let myself be put in. With the alcohol perhaps playing more of a part in my decision-making process than it really should, I didn't pick up the house phone, I didn't go back to the bar, I didn't lock my door. Instead I wondered what I should do in preparation for my tryst with Marcia. I think I was beginning to accept that I would have a bi experience with her. And as that acceptance dawned on me I found a calmness in my thinking and I began to think rationally. I knew several girls at the agency and the tennis club who 'dallied' with other woman to some extent, I read about it in Cosmo and knew that what was being called lipstick lesbianism, one feminine woman being attracted to another feminine female was becoming more and more popular. I had also read that it wasn't like coke or H and that by having sex with another woman you didn't automatically become a full on les. As far as I could I relaxed and began to think 'what should I do?'

Should I shower perhaps or maybe undress and get into bed? I couldn't do that, though, because it would mean leaving the door open. Maybe I should take my outer clothes off and slip into a robe but then I thought that was a little false so perhaps naked under it. But that seemed to me to be a little too much and might make me appear too eager and too easy. Possibly I should have a bath and greet her wrapped in a towel my hair still wet but that seemed just silly. So instead I settled for a quick wash, changed my knickers, got dressed, but left the tights off and waited.

Time seemed to drag so much, but looking at my watch I saw that I'd been there only ten minutes. I wandered around the bedroom and the small lounge wondering what the hell this would bring. This promised to be so different to anything I had previously experienced. This was proper grown up woman's stuff. I was playing with the big girls. I recognised that I had been picked up so relatively easily. It was as if she had absolutely no doubt that I would go along with her advances. She was, of course, correct for I was now waiting expectantly for her to come to my bedroom and make love to me. And I wanted that, I think. My body and emotions that she had been toying with all evening were now attuned to her and what would happen. Were they really, could that really be true. Fuck I didn't know.