Under the sweater she wore nothing but her skin and a dab of perfume on each nipple, and at the moment those nipples were fat swollen peaks of arousal, extended almost an inch in length.
Ms. Hagen raised her lips from Pam's neck and, before the startled part-time whore could cry out, those lips were planted squarely upon her own and a hot, passionate tongue was jammed into Pam's mouth, stabbing, dueling Pam's tongue, pressing as if it meant to thrust its way down Pam's throat. Pam moaned and bucked, and she sought to lunge up from the sofa, but Ms. Hagen slipped a leg between hers and she found herself pinned.
It certainly wasn't the first time Pam had ever been kissed, but it was the first time she'd ever been kissed with such soul-eating intensity. Saliva dripped from the other woman's mouth into hers, and that tongue kept jiggling around, and Pam closed her eyes, enduring, feeling as if she were drowning slowly in a vat of honey. Fingers closed upon her bare breasts and her nipples would have screamed, had they voices of their own.
But they didn't, and they could only twinge as those fingers plied them in a steely, expert grip, teasing the already extended nipples to even greater heights of excitement. Pam's tits dripped sweat and she felt Ms. Hagen's fingers slide about on the milky-white curves of her flesh, and each time that happened, Pam's tits seemed to balloon out a little more.
Ms. Hagen suddenly removed her mouth, giving Pam her first chance to breathe since this weird thing had gotten underway, but it was no more than a moment of freedom. "Uhhhh…" Pam moaned, and the moan died off as Ms. Hagen lowered her head and began to lick first one nipple, then the other, moving back and forth so quickly Pam couldn't tell which tit the woman was currently mouthing.
Ms. Hagen squeezed the boobs, making the nipples lance up pink and hard, inviting targets for her tongue, and she licked rapidly, closing her lips now and then to pull the nipple and suckle its rubbery point. Inside her sucking mouth, that tongue kept working, bathing the tit with saliva, and Pam could feel teeth – small, sharp teeth, perfect teeth, exquisitely painful teeth – digging softly but perceptibly at the flesh of her breasts again.
"Fantastic," Ms. Hagen whispered, delicately extracting her finger from a snatch that seemed reluctant to let it go. "And a cunt like a mousetrap. Ouch! Let me go, lover!"
"Uuuunnnnh…" It was all Pam could say. Her face was wet, as if she'd been crying her heart out, but it was only perspiration. She was wet between the legs too, dripping wet, and that wasn't perspiration. As Ms. Hagen's hand departed Pam replaced it with her own, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing the tingly ravine. And each time she stroked herself she felt a fresh reminder of the sudden blinding fury of the come she'd just gone through, and if she did it a few more times she could be there again, floating, if she did it a few more times.
"A hundred dollars, isn't it?" Ms. Hagen was saying. Pam looked up, eyes failing to comprehend. "A hundred dollars? For your services, darling. Isn't that the usual sum?"
Pam shook her head, still playing with her pussy. She wasn't naked – somehow being naked would have seemed right and proper – instead she was lewdly revealed, her sweater and skirt both yanked up to reveal her sexual parts, and she felt like a whore. But a partially satisfied whore, and that made all the difference. Slowly she allowed her hand to slide off her cunt. "You mean," she said, "that you want to hire me?"
Ms. Hagen nodded, sighing. "Came the dawn," she said with a hint of sarcasm.
"It's crazy," Pam protested. "You're a woman. I'm a woman."
"I think we just proved definitively that you are a woman, darling," Ms. Hagen replied. "Now let's see what we can do about verifying my credentials."
Pam tugged down her sweater. It didn't help. Her breasts were covered with perspiration and spittle, and the sweater clung to them, revealing every luscious curve and hollow, with the nipples vividly erect, punching out the fabric where it touched them. With her other hand she slid her skirt down. She'd worn no underwear today, as a special treat for her new customer, and now she wondered just who had gotten the benefit of the treat.
"What's wrong? Do you charge more for women?"
"I-I don't – Ms. Hagen, I don't know how you got the idea, but I've never – ever – this was the first…"
"You're kidding." Ms. Hagen rose on her knees on the sofa and she stared intently at Pam's face. "You're not kidding. You've never serviced a female customer before?" Pam shook her head. Ms. Hagen took her by the shoulders. "Well," she said lightly, "you're a whore. Improvise. How much do you want?"
Pam gulped. She remembered that movie she'd watched with Mr. Ford yesterday at his hotel, the one featuring the two young girls on a picnic trip, and she remembered how much it had turned her on at the time. She'd even thought about it again last night, in the weird, free-association period her brain always went through just before she dropped off to sleep. But not seriously. She hadn't really wanted to try it. Had she? Pam moved her legs together, felt the upper curves of her thighs start to pressure in a sawing motion on the swollen, itchy puff of her twat. She closed her eyes, needing a moment to think without having to stare into those predatory green eyes…
"Sure, I'm a whore," she said, opening her eyes and looking Ms. Hagen full in the face. "And since you're getting my lesbian cherry, I think a hundred and fifty would be more in order."
Ms. Hagen smiled. Her eyes wrinkled when she smiled, and Pam found that quite fetching. All in all, Pam thought, Mrs. Hagen was an attractive woman indeed. If she was going to do it with a woman, for the first time, she could have done a lot worse than Ms. Hagen.
The woman stroked a fallen lock of hair back from Pam's forehead. "All right, Patricia darling," she said. "A hundred and fifty dollars it is. But I expect to get my money's worth from your lips. And from your hands. And anything else you care to throw in."
Pam smiled cockily. "I think you'll get your money's worth," she replied. "No one's ever asked me for a refund before."
Ms. Hagen leaned in, kissed Pam on the mouth. "Show me," she said. "Show me, Patricia."
CHAPTER SIX
Ms. Hagen sat on the edge of her bed, sipping Jameson's and soda while Pam hurried out of her clothing. "Come here," she said, and Pam came obediently. "You have a beautiful body," Ms. Hagen went on, running a hand up and down Pam's torso, feeling her from tits to hipbones. She let her fingers glide over Pam's lower belly, the tip of one slithering through the upper reaches of dark pubic fur. "Your breasts are surprisingly firm for their size, and I love this tiny roll of pudge below your navel." She pinched it off, and Pam giggled in spite of her professionalism. "How old are you? Twenty-four, twenty-five?"
"Twenty-six."
Ms. Hagen nodded sagely. "I always wanted a body like yours," she commented, finishing her drink and putting the glass out of the way. "I always wanted those really big, bouncy tits, and an ass not too big but just big enough, and legs – God, it should be against the law for anyone to have legs like those!"
"Mmmm," Pam cooed, stepping a little closer, "for the moment you have a body like mine, and you can do whatever you want with it, darling. I'm all yours."
"Undress me," Ms. Hagen said. She held out a foot, and Pam knelt to remove the shoe.
She couldn't be sure of her client's age. From the face, she'd have guessed middle or late thirties, but the body was something different. As the shirt and slacks peeled away, the essential Ms. Hagen came into view, and Pam found it a very edifying sight.
Ms. Hagen wore a bra and panties of pale pink under her clothing. They were sheer, wispy undies, and they veiled, rather than concealed the woman's sexual parts.