Susie had noticed that when Rita walked, her sarong gaped on the hip where it was tied and she saw no panties, just white flesh, so that left Phil wearing panties and her, Susie.
Phil kicked off his shoes and began unscrewing the earrings, grumbling, "Fucking things women wear. Transvestites got to be nuts."
Rita took Susie's arm and led her out of the library to a hall. Across it, through open doors, Susie saw a room full of large, potted plants, gilded bird cages full of twittering and flittering feathered creatures, plus a two-person swing hanging from the ceiling by chains wrapped in crimson velvet.
"The swing room," Rita said, and without further explanation led her to the next doorway and inside. "The ward robe," she said.
It was a small room walled with racks of clothing, a medley of colors from which Susie picked out certain costumes, a clown suit, a fireman's helmet and raincoat, and many indecipherable gossamer garments.
Rita said, "You can be a bullfighter, lion tamer, acrobat, ballet dancer, whatever turns you on. Some of our bunch change every day, though Gwen sticks to saris and I'm on sarongs right now."
Susie was delighted. Dressing up, becoming someone else – wonderful! Escape being Brian's wife!
"I'm going to change, now that I'm finished in the kitchen," Rita said, untying her sarong. She stripped it off, naked now, though less naked than Gwen had been, for Rita had a dark pussy bush that big birds could nest in, a wealth of belly and crotch hair. She flung her sarong onto a rack and took another, this one of flowering hibiscus on maroon. She said, "Susie, you remind me of the White Rock girl, you know, on the soda bottles. The woods nymph perched on a rock gazing at her reflection in the water? Here!"
From a hanger she took a brief pale-blue garment so lightly woven that it was almost a mesh.
"Put it on, Susie," Rita said.
Delighted, Susie peeled off her dress. She was fitting it to a wire hanger when Phil came in carrying his female garments.
He still wore the pink panties with his penis standing out like a hammer handle tenting them.
Susie, in bra and panties, choked back a cry of alarm. She tried to cover her front with her dress.
Phil hung up his dress. He was chewing on an unlit cigar.
Rita was laughing. "Susie, continue undressing. Phil sees us girls nude all the time. Besides, he has this fag hangup, like he's really hot for guys. Huh, Phil?"
"Shit," Phil said. "I think the trouble is, like the book says, guys have no way to show affection for other guys. I see you broads kiss and hug, but guys just shake hands. So I dressed in drag to see what dreams might come, like if there's queer in me. But what happened was I got horny for Susie. Susie, you got a really cute ass, you know?"
Susie swallowed hard, and said, "Thank you, Phil."
"I'm going out and work in the garden. Susie, later you and me will have a talk, huh?"
And Phil left.
Susie was puzzled. She asked, "Is he serious, Rita? I mean, his dressing up like a woman seemed silly to me."
Rita smiled. "He may have been merely begging for attention. Or testing his fantasies? I don't know. It's his bag. Come now, sweetheart, undress. I'll help."
She began unhooking Susie's bra.
When she had done that, her hands lowered and Susie felt them trace the form of her pantied behind.
Rita murmured, "Phil's right, Susie, you have an adorable ass!"
She helped push Susie's panties down, then laid lingering caresses on Susie's high-sprung, pearly globes.
It felt rather pleasant, Susie thought, but scary, and she hurriedly struggled into her costume.
The wood-nymph outfit, she discovered, had only half a top, a left shoulder from which the gauzy material angled down across her left breast to her right waist, leaving one pink-capped orb completely exposed.
The skirt reached just below her crotch. The material was so sheer that it did no more than veil her pussy hair. She needed panties but knew they were taboo in this house.
"You look utterly toothsome!" Rita cried.
She seized Susie's hand and led her out to the hall, saying, "Come, we'll make tea, then have a swing."
Susie cringed with fear that Phil or one of the other men would appear in the hall and see her bare breasts. But the house seemed empty except for them, and of course the shaven-crotched Gwen on her yoga platform.
In the kitchen Rita put water on to boil. From a row of tea canisters she chose one called Kashmir Karma. She spooned some into the teapot, poured on boiling water, and from a shelf got tall cups made of bamboo.
When the brew had been poured, Susie was at first bemused by the woody feel of the bamboo on her lips, but the tea proved much stranger, having the fragrance and sort of the taste of perfume, if perfume tasted as it smelled.
"It's weird," she commented.
"I agree. And it is slightly narcotic, besides having aphrodisiac qualities."
"Oh!" Susie cried. "You mean, it makes you feel sexy?"
"I bet it will wet your pussy," Rita chuckled. "Drink up, and we'll go swing."
Susie was feeling very odd when they left the kitchen, as though her feet did not quite reach the floor. She was glad for the security of Rita's arm about her waist, despite her embarrassment at the plopping of her bare right breast against Rita's.
In the swing room Rita asked, "Want to try a jiji?"
"A jiji?"
"Howard made some in his workshop." She opened a drawer and took out two small plastic egg shapes. She said, "Inside each are two ball bearings of unequal size. Japanese women have used them forever. Come, sit on the swing."
The swing was comfortably padded, seat and back, and had room for the two of them.
Susie watched with horror as Rita sat, spreading her legs. She raised her sarong and tucked the jiji into the hairiness of her split, pushing it up her channel. She then closed her thighs.
She handed Susie the other and said, "Up your love hole, darling."
Susie could only think once more, when in Rome do as the Romans…
The jiji was slippery, and so was her vagina. It popped right in.
"Now we swing," Rita said.
CHAPTER THREE
When Susie got over the embarrassment of having inserted the jiji, it seemed nothing, a tiny firmness in her belly.
Then Rita kicked off and they were swinging.
Susie had not been on a swing since childhood. It seemed a silly thing to do, sitting here in her wood-nymph costume, one rosy-capped white breast exposed, beside Rita in her sarong, gliding back and forth. She smiled tolerantly.
But after the swing had inscribed its third arc she was staring bug-eyed down at her crotch, which had the feeling of bursting open like a melon. But her thighs were firmly together. Inside, something like the throbbing head of a fiercely engorged penis was wobbling insanely about.
She felt clicks, uneven jarrings as the two roller bearings knocked together and against the plastic jiji. The movements were almost imperceptible. She held her breath to not disrupt the rhythm of that inner wobbling, or to calculate it. But there was no rhythm. The lack of one tantalized her until she began to initiate one, forcing down, sucking back. The egg-shaped blob was everywhere and nowhere.
"Give with it, darling," Rita smiled.
Susie gave, found herself prickling all over, her titties heating, every click of the roller bearings sending waves of sensuality rippling to her very fingertips. She gazed at Rita, who seemed transformed, her dark eyes velvety, her lips so glistening red. And desirable! Susie felt a yearning she could not believe. She wanted – needed – had to – kiss her swing partner!
She touched Rita's face. An arm glided about her neck, softly vining. They neared and a tongue tip slipped from those red lips to meet hers. Liquidly their mouths met, flowed into each other. They turned together and a facing breast melted into Susie's exposed one. She felt the hard growth of nipples, could not guess which was hers.