Old Ladies

"Are you close?" Her voice was almost inaudible.

"Very," I said, watching her wet fingers play at her clit.

"Can you hold off for a bit, I don't want to end this yet, do you?"

"Will you squeeze your breasts for me, Winn, both of them?"

"Would you open your left leg more ... ya, thanks, you're really beautiful, Jen, you have a really beautiful body and really like your breasts."

It has been a long time since I've awoken with a sense of shame. But that's what I was feeling this morning after the best sleep I've had in years: shame. But just for a moment, then a feel of exhilaration rushed in and with it a sexual jolt to my groin and I could see her again, leaning back against the wall, her fingers lost deep inside of her and that glow on her face as she watched me. God, it was just so amazing.

When I made it downstairs for breakfast, Winn was already most of the way through hers. She quickly looked up as I sat down in the chair opposite and then a smile grew on her face that could have lit up the room. "God, Jen," she said almost in a whisper, "that was just so fucking fantastic," then she started to laugh, slowly at first but then her laugh became uncontrollable, and tears appeared in her eyes and then slowly ran down her cheeks.

I was a little shocked at first; I thought she might be laughing at us, or even me, but she wasn't, she was laughing at the sheer audacity of our act and when I figured that out I joined her and we shook for a good three minutes. But she finally broke it off, throwing her serviette on her plate. "I've got to pee and I've got work to prepare for this morning sessions," she quickly got to her feet, "I'll see you at noon?" I nodded, and picked up the menu which was a blur, so I wiped my eyes with the serviette and that's when she leaned into me and squeezed my arm. "You are a fantastic, gorgeous woman, Jen. Am I ever glad I've met you," and she turned away again.

'And am I ever glad I met YOU,' I was saying to myself when I heard, "May I sit with you, Jen?"

It was Marion Poole, my boss, or at least she will be my boss in another month or so.

"What on earth were you laughing about?" she said, as she meticulously took her plates and cutlery from her tray.

"Something just struck us as funny," I said, dismissively. I liked Marian, but I wasn't close to her. And she certainly wasn't someone I ever expected to get to know well, she just wasn't my type. She was about 30, very thin, pretty, with an intelligent, serious face, always impeccably groomed, and as near as I could tell, almost entirely humourless. And she had an earnest about her that made her a bit threatening and made me think of my daughter.

As if to confirm my suspicion, Marion said, "I haven't laughed like that in years. I envy you."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I haven't either." I gratefully accepted the coffee from the waitress and ordered then waited for what I knew would be a stilted conversation, but it was slow in coming. Marion, never gregarious, appeared unusually quiet. "Is any thing wrong?" I asked, hoping not, but wanting to start a conversation.

Annoyance flickered on her face, "I'm finding I don't do well in situations like this; don't do well outside the narrow confines of my office. And I don't like it."

Her response surprised me, greatly. Marian wasn't the type to talk about herself, she had always seemed an intensely private person, so much so that I didn't know anything about her except that she was an only child of elderly parents who had died, had an MBA from somewhere and lived on her own in a condominium in the north end of the city. Admitting a vulnerability seemed to be a whole new side of her. I had no idea what to say but wanting to avoid an awkward silence I asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She was picking at her food with a fork, "I'd love to talk about it, I just don't know who to talk about it with."

That was just so like her, I thought, so literal, "I was thinking with me," I said, somewhat sardonically, "like here. Now."

She seemed oddly surprised by this and it seemed to cheer her up a little, "It's a big subject, Jen ..."

I felt a bit insulted. "I'm a big girl, Marion."

She was quiet, for a long time, clearly in thought. I didn't interrupt her and was glad when the waitress brought me my breakfast.

"I like you, Jen and I trust you. I would like to talk to you about it, but not here, maybe when we get home." She smiled wanly, "OK?"

"Is there anything I should bone up on?" I asked, trying to add a little levity to the conversation. But it didn't work.

"No, I think I just need an ear."

'An ear it is,' I said to myself. 'I'll make sure to disengage my mind.'

When I met her for lunch Winn's smile was even more warm and welcoming then usual, "Come," she said, "let's walk a bit."

I fell in beside her feeling an excitement that surprised me, "You're looking rather ... what?"

"Happy?" She bumped into me with her hip. "That was the most fantastic thing we did last night, just fabulous, I want you to know that."

"I do know it, Winn, I feel the same way, and thanks. It took a lot of courage."

"Our courage," she laughed, then she added, "and I have a suggestion to further test our courage."

We walked a few steps while I speculated on what she might mean but something told me if I waited I'd know soon enough.

"When we were sitting there last night, Jen, I wanted you to touch me." If she was self-conscious about this admission she sure didn't let it show, instead, she laughed heartily and bumped me with her hip again. "Can you imagine? I wanted you to touch me." Then she quickly added, "But you don't have to if you don't want to, of course. It's just that, if you do want to, I want you to know that I think I'd like it." I think she was waiting for me to respond, but I didn't, I was speechless. Masturbation is one thing, this would be something else again. I said nothing and she changed the subject, but not her demeanor, it's as if she thought I just needed some time to think about it.

And she was right. It ate at me all afternoon. I could barely concentrate. In our sessions I went through the motions, pretending to be paying attention, but I wasn't. I could only see the reflection of Winn in the mirror, with her pendulous breasts lying low on her stomach and her rounded belly roiling as her wet fingers disappeared into her hairy pussy. It was scary. I have never had thoughts like this, well, yes, my daughter, but those thoughts didn't count.

"Are you mad at me ... again?" She was laughing over the phone, that throaty laugh of hers and it sounded like she hadn't a care in the world.

"No, of course not."

"Then join me for a drink." God, she was just so cheerful, so sure of herself, while I have so many doubts, so much fear.

I hesitated, thinking up an excuse, "I have some work to prepare for ..."

"Get serious. We're leaving tomorrow afternoon; I want to spend as much time with you as I can. The drinks are poured."

I went, embarrassed it would require so little convincing.

I walked through the open door surprised to see Winn in a bathrobe. I went directly to the chair and sat down and the moment I did she moved to within a few feet of me, "Have I got this wrong, Jen? I could have sworn that while you were looking at me last night, you wanted exactly what I want."

"I don't know what I want," then I quickly added, "Why is this so easy for you?"

"Because I'm going back to my hum-drum life tomorrow. But that's then, this is now and right now I want to be with you in any and every way I can. You excite me, Jen, you just flat-out excite me in every way imaginable; I'm just excited to be around you."

I didn't know what 'any and every way' meant. "What do you want to do?" I didn't think I was ready for anything more then we did last night.

"I want to be close to you, Jen. I want to hold you and talk to you."

God, I felt so stupid. I thought she might be heading towards some sort of lesbian act. "I'd like that, too."

"Good," she said, "I've been thinking of this all day. I know exactly how I want to do it." She stripped off her bath robe and crawled onto the bed with her back against the headboard, "Sit down here," she said, leaning forward to pat the bedspread in front of her.

I didn't move. She seemed almost lewd, sitting there in her tan panties and bra.

"Oh, come on, I just wanted to get comfortable." Her smiled was so open and innocent she seemed absolutely unthreatening so I got up and did as I was told, sitting down in front of her curled legs with my back to her. "OK," she said with her hands on my sweater, "now I want you get comfortable, too." And she started to remove my sweater.

I stopped her, "Jez, Winn, what are you doing?"

When she playfully slapped my hands away I could sense a little irritation so I let her removed my sweater and when she told me to remove my pants to be as comfortable as she was I did, I wasn't going to but she seemed so disarmingly honest and unthreatening, I did, and she pulled me down and placed my head on her lap and squirmed a little to get comfortable.

"I've thought about your daughter a lot, Jen, and here's what I've come up with," she was gently caressing my hair and I was slowly calming down. "Is she sexually active?

I didn't know, but I didn't think so because she always seemed either to be at work or at home, so I speculated that probably in the past month, at least, she hadn't been.

"Then it's a good bet that she's probably pretty horny, right?"

I agreed.

"So maybe she isn't so much horny for you, maybe she's just horny, period, and you're just there."

I had never thought of this and I felt a brief flash of disappointment, but it made sense. She had never looked at me as she had in the past month so I agreed with Winn that this was a real possibility, probably the most likely possibility so after my flush of disappointment I felt relief.

"So if you sort of tried to help her, like you were considering, maybe it would be entirely the wrong thing to do, I mean it's not a mother's job to sexually satisfy the daughter."

I had been concentrating so hard on the conversation and trying to imagine what my daughter was thinking, that I hadn't realized that Winn's fingers were now on my upper chest and they were heading south. "What are you doing, Winn?"

She pulled me up by the shoulders and quickly unfastened my bra and let me down again, removing my bra in the process. "I'm touching you, Jen, like I imagined all day I'd be touching you, do you mind?"

She was leaning forward just a little so her large breasts in the tan bra were hanging over my head and her fingers were lightly touching the undersides of my breasts. My nipples were as stiff as they get. I fought off the urge to object, just like in the past 24 hours I had fought off all my urges to object, and I forced my thoughts back to my daughter, "You're right about Shelley, Winn, I think you're dead on."

"But you should have a talk with her, shouldn't you? I mean, shouldn't you know what she's thinking — about sex, about her lesbianism, about her emotional state, I mean, that IS your duty, isn't it?"

Her fingers where on my breasts now, almost at my nipples and I have never been so turned on so fast — partly because she was being so helpful, so involved with my thoughts about my daughter; I just felt so much love for her, emotional and sexual so at the very moment she touched my nipples I almost involuntarily flipped over and pushed my head into her stomach, my face into her belly and I grabbed at her waist and squeezed as hard as I could and just held on, shocked at where I was but glad I was there, conscious of how soft her pantied belly was against my face and how soothing her hands were as she gently pulled at my hair, like she was giving me a scalp massage.

I lay like that until my arms grew tired but when I released them, she slid down beside me and pulled me into her, with my face against her shoulder.

I could smell her, part perfume, part sweat, it was faint at first, musky, sweet ... and alluring and I went to it, pressing my face along her soft shoulder until my nose was near her arm pit, and then she lifted her arm and the scent grew stronger and I could feel her wetness against my nose and I just lost it. I scrambled onto her, forcing my knee between her legs and I wrapped my legs around her thigh and as I pushed my face further into her arm pit, further into her exquisite scent, I locked my pussy tight to her fleshy thigh as she brought it up driving it into me and then I could feel her hand pushing my face further into her and I bucked against her leg, pushing my pussy as hard as I could into it and I could hear myself cry into her flesh as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me like nothing I had ever felt before and I road with it, hard at first, pounding my pussy at her, screaming into her wet smelly arm pit and I stayed with it, humping her, not wanting it to stop and it didn't, not for the longest time but then it began to taper and mid-way through, my passion all but spent, I realized what I had done and I desperately pushed myself off her, anxious to get away, back to my room, back to my city, back to my state — back to my husband. But she caught me by the wrist.

"Oh, no you don't." And she pulled me back beside her and she leaned into me, almost pinning me to the bed. That's when she kissed me, very lightly, more reassuringly than sexually and I let her, my guilt almost more than I could bare.

"What's the matter?" She was looking down on me, smiling and I turned away. But she pulled at my cheek, forcing me to look at her, "What's the matter?"

"God, I'm sorry, Winn," I closed my eyes to her face, "I don't know what happened."

She bent down and kissed me again, lingering a little longer this time, "Thank you, Jen, you made me feel unbelievably special — that was the most fantastic thing I've ever felt."

I opened my eyes at this, wondering if she was teasing. But she wasn't, I could see it in her eyes and I pushed myself into her, "I'm just so fucking lucky to have met you, Winn."

We were both quiet for a few minutes, me pushing against her, she holding me into her, then she said, dreamily, "That was just so unbelievably fucking fabulous. A gorgeous woman like you doing that on me, I could never dream of such a thing." She hesitated for a moment, as if in thought, "You were just fantastic, Jen, unbelievable. It was like a dream I will never ever forget."

Her voice and her words sounded so honest, so sincere I felt a love for her, a passion so strong that I pushed at her hips and when she lay on her back I moved up and pressed my lips into hers and I began to kiss her like a lover, slowly at first but my passion soon took over and so did hers. She was strong than me; she was pulling me down and her mouth was open and she was forcing mine into her hers and her noises sounded almost desperate so I pushed away and pinned her by the shoulders as I kissed her, dragging my tongue along her lips and into her mouth, fencing with her tongue. That's when I felt her hips begin to jerk spastically on the bed and I realized her needs.

I sat up and when I pulled at her panties, she lifted her bum allowing me to removed them, then I lay with my head on her belly, my face just inches from her thick forest and I moved my fingers along her fleshy thigh and when they entered her I was surprised at how wet she was, and how big, far bigger than me.

She shifted, I think she was putting a pillow under her head, and then she opened her legs a little more. I was kissing her belly when she said, "I didn't know I could feel like this."

And I didn't either, I had no idea and I was fascinated, fascinated that my cheek was now in her hair, fascinated that I wanted to taste her, to suck on her, to feel my face inside her deep wet cunt. It was the smell again.

An uncontrollable lust took over me. I sprang to me knees, pushed roughly at her knees and buried my face in her as I sucked and drank and marveled at her taste and smell and thrilled at her passion. She had grabbed my thigh high at the crotch and she was squeezing me, using me for leverage as she pushed her pussy at my face, rubbing against me and sucking on my leg.

Her cries were high pitched squeals of utter abandon, I could hear them and feel them wet against my leg and her hands closed on my thigh, just beneath my pussy, like a tourniquet and she squeezed and squeezed as she bucked at my face, pushing me deeper into her.

Then, suddenly, there was silence, all movement stopped — she just hung on and I could feel it on my face, spasm after spasm washed through her and with each ripple I sunk further into her until I couldn't breath and her wet hot ooze seemed to suck at my face. It scared me, I tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let me, her thighs gripped my face like a vice and then she began to slowly work at me as if wanting to extract the last measure of pleasure — but I had to leave, I needed breath, I broke free and rested on her soft flesh thigh.

I panted for a minute, trying to get my breath back and it took a minute more to feel my heart begin to calm and I studied it, the source of all my pleasure. She had a long, wide crack, far longer than mine and her lips were thick and so swollen that her hair seemed to grow in all directions. And I could smell her, a dense, musky smell that seemed heavier than air. I moved in and nudged my lips against her slit and teased her inner lips with my tongue, hoping I could coax a little more from her but she had had enough and pulled at me, but before I left I bit her lightly, playfully on her magnificent, hairy lip and she laughed.

Her flight left three hours before mine. I spent the time before my flight in the bar sipping a drink while pretending to listen to Marion Poole's views on the seminar. I could have cared less, of course, I wanted nothing more than to be left alone with my memories but eventually, perhaps from the alcohol, her conversation turned: it took about two hours and three drinks but for the first time in her life Marion Poole came out and her relief at finally admitted to someone — and maybe even to herself — that she was gay seemed fantastically liberating and when I took her hand and squeezed it and said, 'I think that's wonderful,' she cried. I held her hand all the way home.

But it wasn't Marion Poole I was thinking about when I awoke the next morning, at least not yet, it was Winn White and my guilt. I was riddled with it, and I deserved to be — and I had to understand it. Mercifully, I had a little time to try to sort it all out because Jack was off to his regular Saturday morning golf game and my time was my own.

About five minutes of it and then there was a knock on the door and Shelley entered, dressed only in a short, tight nightie.

"I called you, you know." She was standing beside the bed looking down at me.

"Called me?"

"Two nights ago. I called you every hour on the hour. You answered the phone at 7 in the morning."

To dead air, I remembered.

"Where were you?" She sat on the bed. She was more annoyed than curious.

"I don't have to explain my time to you, Shelley." I said the words calmly, but my head was reeling for a lie.

"You were out all night, mom. Where were you?"

"Where do you think I was?"

"I think you were with a man."

"You're wrong, I was with a woman." Stay as close to the truth as you can, that's the best kind of lie, so that's the way I started out but I couldn't lie, not to my daughter. I calmly explained that Winn and I were the 'Outcasts' in a group of younger women and while each night they painted the town red we just talked. Here's where it got sticky. "Then the last night, the night you phoned, we went a little farther than talk, I don't know how it happened, but, ... well, I guess we had been away from home for awhile and we were around all these healthy young woman and their hormones, and well, we ... ah, masturbated together." The shock on Shelley's face would have been comical had the situation not been so serious and so delicate. "Then after, we sort of held each other and went to sleep. I answered your call the next morning. There was no one on the line."