Lovers

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?"