“It’s so funny.”
“What?”
“Seeing myself in the mirror like this. Lying down, I mean.” Llona was staring at her reflection on the ceiling. “These miniskirts are really scandalous, aren’t they? I mean, lying down like this, you can practically see everything.”
“They’re perfect for you. You’ve got beautiful legs. Why hide them? Are you comfy?” Beulah was solicitous.
“I would be if this damn bra wasn’t so tight.”
“Take it off.”
“Do you really think I should?”
“Why not? There’s only the two of us here. Just us girls.”
“That’s right. But even so, it feels sort of wicked. I mean this bed, and seeing myself in the mirror and all.”
“Don’t be silly. Take the bra off. Here, I’ll help you.”
Llona sat up and Beulah knelt behind her. She reached under the sheer blouse and unsnapped the bra. Llona slipped it off without removing the blouse and stretched out on the bed again. “Ah, that feels good!”
Beulah stood over her and looked down for a long moment. The tight, transparent material stretched over Llona’s breasts, accentuating the size and redness of the nipples. Her thighs gleamed with a silklike sheen in the lamplight. Her face, in repose, was languorous. It was framed by the golden-brown sheen of her long hair.
Llona’s eyes had been closed. Now she opened them. “Aren’t you going to play for me?” she asked lazily.
“Of course.” Beulah moved over to the electric guitar and picked it up. There was a long cord attached to it, and she was able to sit on the round bed alongside Llona as she played. Shoulders thrown back so that her small breasts were clearly outlined against the black silk of the lounging pajamas, she sang softly as she strummed the guitar.
The song had a strong beat and she played it very slowly. The words were Greek, and every so often Beulah paused to translate for Llona. The translation was frankly ribald, right off the bathroom wall.
“You’re making it up,” Llona objected, laughing. “That’s not really what you’re singing.”
“Yes it is. That’s really what the words mean.”
“But they sound so romantic.”
“They are. And in Greek—well, it’s different.” Beulah stood the guitar beside the bed and started to unbutton the pajama blouse.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s very warm in here. I’m perspiring. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind? No. Why should I? After all, like you said, it’s just us girls.”
“That’s right.” Beulah peeled off the blouse, picked up the electric guitar and strummed it softly again.
“Gee, you have beautiful breasts,” Llona remarked.
“They’re too small.”
“But they’re such a nice shape. Like twin pears.”
“Thank you.” Beulah licked her lips and let her eyes wander over Llona’s body. The way Llona was lying, she might juast as well not have been wearing the miniskirt. Beulah had a clear view of the monogrammed black panties. ‘
“I think maybe your girlfriend was right,” Llona said.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe there is something aphrodisiac about those drinks.” Llona giggled. “I mean I feel sort of -- you know."
“I know.” Beulah’s voice was very soft.
“I don’t mean sexy exactly. Just relaxed and free.”
“Doesn’t that elastic bother you?” Beulah nodded toward the panties and kept strumming the guitar.
“It is sort of cutting into my flesh. I guess I’ll just slip them off.”
“Yes. Do that.” Beulah’s fingers flew over the guitar strings as Llona suited the action to the words. “Here. I’ll take them.” She set the guitar down and relieved Llona of the panties. She put them carefully in a top bureau drawer. Later she’d convince Llona to let her keep them.
“Lots of freedom now.” Llona wriggled her legs.
“Yes.” Beulah caught her breath at the sight of the golden triangle of curls shimmering in the mirror.
“Oh, my, that looks obscene.” Llona was looking at the same spot in the overhead mirror.
“Nonsense. It’s beautiful.” Beulah crossed back to her and patted the area as if the gesture was the most natural thing in the world for one friend to do to another. “You’re very tense.” Her hand remained passively on Llona’s soft underbelly. “Wait!” She moved away again. “I have just the thing to relax you.”
“I thought I was relaxed.”
Beulah ignored the comment. She walked over to the bureau and returned carrying an electric vibrator. She plugged it into the wall socket beside the cord leading to the electric guitar. “Now this will really be relaxing,” she assured Llona as she knelt over her on the bed.
Llona closed her eyes as Beulah applied the hand vibrator to the delicate spot where her shoulder and neck formed a hollow. Her flesh tingled at the vibration. Beulah slipped the vibrator under the sheer blouse and warmth flooded Llona’s bosom as it invaded the cleft between her breasts. For a moment Beulah concentrated on one pink roseate and its large nipple. Llona heaved a sigh and wriggled with the thrill of the expanding nipple. Beulah bent lower over her.
Llona opened her mouth to reply. But she couldn’t. Without quite knowing how it had happened, she found that Beulah’s breast was in her mouth, its sharp, hot tip pressed against her tongue. Her lips responded automatically, widening to encompass still more of the pear-shaped breast.
Now it was Beulah’s turn to gasp. Still holding the vibrator to one of Llona’s breasts, she slid her free hand down the length of the girl’s body until the fingers were buried in the downy triangle. Then she pulled her breast free of Llona’s lips and turned around to apply the vibrator to the sensitive inner surface of the flexing thighs.
Llona’s reaction was an unthinking frenzy. Her hands flailed wildy for a moment, and then clawed for support at the black silk over Beulah’s derriere. Her nails dug into the brunette’s plump flesh. The pajama pants slid down and she buried her hands in the burning flesh. Beulah’s knees seemed to give way and Llona’s face was lost in the lush black nether curls. The perfume she found there was heavy and irresistible. As the vibrator pressed against her own clitoris, her tongue sought and found Beulah’s.
Now Beulah lost control. She sprawled over Llona, her mouth pursed eagerly to return the favor. They lay locked that way for a moment, avid, gasping. Then Beulah reached to pry the fluttering nether-lips even further apart, realized she still had the vibrator in one hand, and flung it uncaringly away from her.
Simultaneously, Llona’s whole body rose—the luscious derriere clearing the bed altogether—in mounting anticipation of the approaching explosion. Beulah’s mouth fastened on its target again. But it was another sort of explosion from the anticipated one which shook them!
In her haste, Beulah had yanked the vibrator free of the electric cord which was attached to it. And the motion had also resulted in wrapping the live wire around the electric guitar. There was a crackle, and suddenly live electricity was all around them.
Beulah was on top and she caught the brunt of it. Her body tensed and was thrown clear across the room. Llona was also propelled from the bed and up against the wall. Fortunately, one outstretched arm hooked the cord leading to the guitar and pulled it from the socket.
Dazed, Llona finally struggled to her feet. She crossed over to where Beulah was lying, the black silk pajama pants still tangled around her ankles. The brunette’s skin was cold to touch. Llona couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead!
She panicked! She grabbed up her bra from the top of the bureau, found the Nymph panties in the top drawer, struggled into the undergarments and fled. She was terrified of what might happen if she was found there with Beulah like this. She wasn’t thinking clearly, but she knew she was guilty! Guilty! Guilty!