Giggling blithely, Judy summoned up energy to surmount her bath-warmed lassitude, rising to climb out and reach for a towel. Something intervened in mid-movement a noise, a blur of motion, a sixth-sense recognition of another presence and with one foot planted on the furry bathmat and the other still dragging from the tub, she stopped and swung her gaze in search. There, standing in the half-open doorway! The maid again. Solange. The very solicitous maid, returning to take up her duties once more. Or had she been there watching all along?
Their eyes met in silence. A reprimand might have been in order, but the words stuck in Judy's throat. Irrationally, her mind refused to function beyond the level of trivia. The woman's name, for instance, its unfamiliar pronunciation. So-lansh. Accent on the second syllable. And the woman herself, the only other member of the household, so far a model of stolid efficiency. French, supposedly, although her slightly hooked nose and swarthy complexion hinted of even more exotic origin. An ageless brunette type. Devoted to her mistress, apparently.
"Missy? Oh, you're getting out now. Let me help." Solange entered, plucking a towel in transit. "That's what I'm here for you'll see. I'll take good care of you."
Again the silence pulsated as the towel was manipulated gently but firmly over Judy's dripping shoulders and arms. The scented atmosphere had become stifling all of a sudden. She wanted to utter some sound of rejection, to cry out against this unexpected invasion of her privacy. But the necessary organs still weren't functioning, and she finished pulling her legs together and stood motionless on the mat. Motionless but shaky inside. Silly. Wasn't it just a left-over feeling from back there in the tub? Caressing herself and mooning over her voluptuous lesbian hostess oh shit, what else could she expect? No wonder she felt sexy.
It struck her then, a new notion, almost sickening in its enormity. The maid was devoted to the mistress. And the mistress was a lesbian! Wasn't there a certain conclusion to be drawn from that pair of facts? All the more so now. The way the towel was moving slowly, lingeringly lovingly? over her moist flesh. She clenched her fists, struggling to stave off dizziness. Like some kind of hypnotic trance almost. Her whole being was ignited, her stomach churning and her thighs quivering convulsively. And when the towel slid across to smother her breasts, she bit her lips to keep from sobbing aloud…
"Missy? Are you nervous?"
"Well… uh… "
"It's all right. I understand."
Maybe the maid was merely trying to be helpful. Her voice sounded quite concerned. And there hadn't been any definite sign of a sexy pass, no indication that she desired more than to be of service. Was it all just imagination? Judy could only wait and wonder, momentarily soothed by the judgment that her own mind must have complicated this simple situation. Comparatively simple, anyway, although the novelty alone was enough to flutter her nerves. Oh shit, if only her tits would quit tingling! What now, was it starting all over again?
Uh-huh. Coming up from below, too. Tiny tremors climbing the calves of her legs. Sporadic flashes of sensation shimmering upward to tease and torment to the point of sheer persecution. Awful! As if there was some other ingredient to be reckoned with here, some unknown something that insisted on identifying itself. Judy wanted no part of it. Whatever it was. And abruptly she seized the towel from those busy hands and wrapped her naked body in its fluffy concealment, avoiding the dark woman's startled glance. She stalked out then, pausing only to pick up her borrowed robe, still clutching the towel around her like a skimpy but blessedly serviceable sheath.
Chapter 6
Shivering in sweet anticipation, Alison Laird sipped her wine and tried somewhat unsuccessfully to curb her impatience. Oh, it was going to be another wonderful night! Just like last time. And the time before. It got better and better with every date and already tonight's beginning seemed to be no exception.
Alison was naked. Naked and proud of her nudity, no longer the foolish little prude she had once been. Now she only wished her dear friend would hurry up and get naked, too. Her dear friend and darling lover! Not that Vera had far to go, with just those flimsy white panties on. Nothing else, nothing at all; even her bra was gone. Just that small pair of panties. But until the final garment came off, she would probably go on talking and telling stories more friend than lover, darn it. Or so it appeared. Only when they were both naked would the night's ecstasies truly begin.
Meanwhile, though, the passing moments weren't exactly dull. The woman was so interesting, so full of witty tales about her old life as an actress and model in the big city. Stories about film stars and nightclub singers, the gossipy world of celebrities and such. And other kinds of stories, too, the kind that might make even a more experienced listener giggle and blush some. Not dirty stories, really, only just a shade naughty. But exciting, of course, and mostly in a sexy way, despite the obvious humor. Until at last Alison had to stand up and stretch and walk around, too agitated to remain parked in one place.
She refilled both glasses, using that as an excuse to rise and move about. But once the wine was poured, she just couldn't go back to that same detached position. Instead, impulsively, she sank to the carpet in front of Vera's upholstered chair, beseeching permission with her eyes and then resting her head against a big soft thigh. Squirming a little, she got comfortably settled on the floor and on that satiny thigh; so delightful! before glancing up to beg indulgence once more.
"You don't mind, do you? My sitting here like this?"
"Silly baby. I love it. Hmm. Reminds me of a girl I used to know. Way back when. Horny little slave-girl… "
"Huh? A a slave-girl?"
"Umm, well, something like that."
"I I don't understand. Vera? Tell me about her. Was she one of the kids in those pajama parties?"
"Uh-huh. That's how it must have started, I guess, at a slumber party. Hard to recall exactly. Anyway, we soon got interested in having parties of our own private, just the two of us and that was when things became serious."
"What things? What do you mean, serious?"
"You know. Real lovey-dovey. But you don't want to hear about that, do you? Young girls cuddling together?"
"Just cuddling? You you did say she was a slave-girl, didn't you? That's what aroused my curiosity."
"Oh. That. Let me think. Hmm. Funny. I can't even remember her name. It was so long ago. My first romance. Even before I had a steady boyfriend. Pretty little blonde… "
"Blonde like me? Is that what reminded you?"
"Wait. It's all coming back now. Florence? Flossie? Flossie, sure, that was it. How we used to cuddle! Every day, right after school, sometimes at her house and sometimes mine. Only it wasn't just cuddling, of course. Not after… uh… "
"After what? Tell me, tell me."
"Honeybunch, I'm trying to. Only it's hard to remember. It just seemed to change, all of a sudden. Oh. I've got it. That first time the first time we changed direction, I mean. I was patting her cheek, just being affectionate, you know? And then she grabbed my hand and kissed it. I figured that was just showing some affection, too until she began licking me. With her tongue, all hot and wet and slippery, licking my hand; ooh, it felt nice. Only it wasn't just nice, not exactly, it was more of a dirty feeling, sexy but dirty kind of a dirty little thrill."