It's SO nice to have you here!!! Don't mind me, I have to get the place open and let these chicks in to pay me some money so I can keep the place open!!!
Come on down as soon as you're ready-no hurry!!!-and I'll introduce you to everybody and show you around and everything. I hope you'll just LOVE it here!!!
Gotta rush Mary Alice
Nan smiled at the letter. Nothing about last night at all. That would be so like Mary Alice. She wouldn't push her ego on you for anything. And the first thing she'd think of would be making Nan feel at home. What a sweetheart!
And now, sipping her tea, Nan had to face the fact that she didn't feel the slightest twinge of conscience, of shame, of bad vibes, of anything negative about the night before. And the thought of that was itself enough to throw quite a shock into her.
After all, here she'd had a real honest-to-God lesbian experience the night before, and it didn't shake her up. As a matter-of-fact, she felt good about it-better than anything had made her feel in simply ages.
In more ways than one, she had to admit to herself now. At the thought of Mary Alice's warm-from-sleep, delightfully padded figure pressed so lovingly to her own-of Mary Alice's affectionate and expert lips diving so happily on her wet and ready cunt, she blushed-and felt a telltale twinge in her lap. God, she was sensitive there! And, holding the cup in one hand, she reached in her lap with the other and touched herself on the button, softly, tentatively. She was almost raw there. But what an incredible series of lovely, guilt-free, sweet orgasms she'd had the night before! It was almost as if she'd never come before, really.
There! Her finger dipped down into the depths of her slit, wet and ready even now, for lubrication to put on her finger. With it, she very gently rubbed her clit How nice! She put the cup down and opened her legs, giving herself long, slow, languorous rubs with the tender fingertip. She shivered and wiggled her toes. God! How lovely she felt! How sweet the night had been…waking briefly in the middle of the night to feel her friend's warm hand on her thigh…guiding it again to her slit--Then, waking again and lying there talking, not saying much, just a word or two now and then, kissing, massaging each other's cracks with fingers that smelt enchantingly funky from each other's bottoms until the two of them, exhausted, came softly and sweetly, lying there like that and slipped quietly off to sleep again…Ohhhhhhh! she said in her silent mind, coming again, softly, easily, and lying back to enjoy the nice feeling afterwards…
She showered and then, letting her body dry in the cool air, padded about naked while looking over the upstairs part of Mary Alice's nice, cranky old house. She went to her bag (Must remember, she thought, to send for the rest at the airport today!) and settled on a pair of stylish pants and very bare sandals. Standing before the mirror, though, staring at her topless body and her delicious little breasts (whose nipples grew longer as she looked at them), she wondered: bra or no bra? as she held her cute little knit top in one hand, undecided. Then she said suddenly to herself in a loud whisper: "Live!" And, an amused smile on her face, pulled it over her head. As she straightened it out she noticed that her nipples stuck out invitingly, and the brown areolas were all but visible through the translucent cloth. "Well…why not?" she whispered. And she went downstairs to Mary Alice's office, already buzzing with excitement, already-she saw even before she stepped through the door-half full of bright-eyed women in gay-colored sports clothes, talking away in animated voices.
Her entrance didn't exactly create a sensation, then. But she saw a few eyes on her, and drew a friendly smile or two, as she threaded her way through the crowd to the reception desk, where a plain but bright-eyed young woman was busily engaged in signing up a great, overweight Jewish lady for something called Tai Chi Ch'uan. She patiently waited her turn, looking around the room at the staff photos showing teachers of various artsy-craftsy disciplines at work.
Most of these, it appeared, were women. There was a blond painting instructor with a nice, mobile-looking face and a ring of ringlets growing close around her shapely little head; a French teacher-wearing a mannish suit, but with a pleasant, humorous face-showing a pupil, apparently, the correct way one holds her face to say "u" a la francaise; a sturdy-bodied, cropped-haired sculptress, with-how fitting!-a marvelously sculptural face, with beautiful wide cheekbones and a simply marvelous nose…There was one man visible on the wall, but even as she watched, one of the girls, who apparently belonged to the place, took that picture down and replaced it. The new photo bore the image of a huge, dark-haired man with a big black beard-and, she saw, a kind and gentle face beneath it-bending over a potter's turntable, worrying a clay figure into shape with large, dirty hands.
Dominating the wall display, however, was a series of shots of dancers in action-a set of earnest-faced, frankly lesbian Moderns in black leotards, severe hairdos and gnarly bare feet, a line of young matrons in classical-ballet garb doing bar exercises (and showing surprisingly good form), and…the largest and. most professional-looking of the photographs immediately took her attention.
This was a professional action photograph of a young woman in her middle thirties, with an unusually lovely, if hard-eyed, face, a wildly voluptuous figure that simply begged the viewer to touch it and caress if she dared, and a sinuous grace in her posture that could only have come from the most rigorous professional training. She was wearing the scantiest of Middle-Eastern belly-dance costumes, and her motions, arrested by the camera in the middle, had all but separated her gyrating body from every vestige of covering she wore. Indeed, one dark areola bulged from her tiny bra, and her skirt was pulled so low, over so flawlessly supple a belly, that stray hairs from her pubic area peeped over the top. Her hands and feet, glimmering with gold rings, were subtly expressive after a Far Eastern, not Middle Eastern, manner.
God! Nan breathed to herself. What a woman this must bel Her heart was pounding as the girl at the desk turned to her now and said in a matter-of-fact voice, "Can I help you, dear?"
"Oh," she said, a little flustered. "I…I'm looking for Mary Alice… "
"Hi, hon," a familiar voice said behind her, though, and she turned to see Mary Alice, trim-for a big girl in a pants suit and sandals, approaching. "Oh, look, Louise. Here's my best friend in the world that I told you about"
"Oh," said the plain girl, beaming at Nan now and rising. "You're Annie. We've all heard so much about you." She came forward to press Nan's hand warmly. And Mary Alice, hugging her affectionately, proceeded to introduce her to nearly everyone in the room, one or two at a time. Everyone was warmly open and friendly; Nan, used to the New Yorkish distrustfulness of Miami Beach money, was delightfully flustered with the reception she received.
The crowd thinned as classes began for the day, though, and Mary Alice took her out the door. The morning was still a bit on the cool side, and she was glad to get out into whatever sun there was. Mary Alice chattered along pleasantly in her usual fashion as she took Nan on the Grand Tour, grasping her hand and lacing fingers with her as the two went from one little outbuilding to the next meeting the teachers in
Mary Alice's-suddenly charming, Nan felt to her surprise!-little school.
The first cottage they passed was that of the French teacher, who turned out not to be mannish at all, but wise, middle-aged, and unassuming. Then they turned to the dance classes-the male teacher of the classical ballet class was obviously gay, but friendly in a twittery bird-like way, and he was glad to take them next door to the Modern class and introduce her to the girl teacher, who was dark, intense, and who pressed her hand in a sententiously predatory way. His name was Lloyd; hers was Esther.