Title: THE BEST SPOT
Author: R. Schultz ( cousindream@aol.com )
Series: VOYAGER -- sorta. Actually a Lesbian love tale.
Code: f/f/and etc.
Pairing: Über-Janeway/Annika
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Only if you were at THE DUCHESS Lounge in Detroit on Tuesday, October 17th, 1987, when Girlpower took over that girlie strip joint and turned it for one night into something really special for a LezGrrl working her first night ever as a stripper.
Disclaimer: ViaBorgCom sucks. This non-Trek story is all mine under common-law copyright. Sept. 2001. 12,750 words long.
Summary: Kathryn Janeway is re-accepting her lesbianism after a painful divorce from her husband. Now she meets this unhappy young housewife named Annika....
Warning: Love between (fictional) adult consenting women is the heart of this story. If this offends you, go elsewhere for reading pleasure. If you're underage according to USA or local law, or your country or locale legally declares smut-like tales something you shouldn't read, you may not enter here.
Posted to the Femme_Fuhq_Fest group, later to the ASCEM. May be archived, but please notify. Comments to: cousindream@aol.com
by R.Schultz
I could feel the heat roll off my back as the commuters crept swiftly over the MichCentral railroad tracks to my back. Dust, clamor, faint vibrations, smell of dry dust and petroleum products.
I could see the last of the thousands of suburbia-bound whites and Detroit Blacks creeping their way home to a meal, hoping to find a wife or a child to soothe them at the end of their journey.
Hundreds upon hundreds of those people crawling by were searching my back, trying to find some answer to a specific question. Those who knew this bar as a dyke place, they might be searching for anything in my body to explain why some woman loves another woman. If they find an answer, they were doing better than I was.
All I know is that I'm sitting here as a nervous wreck, two hours early for when the women start drifting in. It's seven o'clock and the bartender says the action doesn't start before nine. He's a cute enough fag, earrings of gold, strong, accustomed to the fag hag's hitting on him.
It's warmer out here, and all those auto exhaust's are creating the roadside bad-gas zone. Out of the corner of one eye I can see a cop cruiser on 8 Mile Road going by behind me.
Detroit's Finest making sure the Dyke bar doesn't violate the laws.
Within six blocks there's probably at least one burglary and three robberies taking place, and it isn't even prime time for crime in this town. Yet Detroit cops taking a bite outta crime by keeping an eye on the depravity at "The Railroad Crossing".
It'd be terrible if crime seized a foothold at the lesbian place. Detroit might get a reputation as a crime-ridden town.
All that Police Protection and the owner of the "Railroad Crossing" has to hire rent-a-cops to protect customer's cars.
So, I sit out here on the verandah. Me and my husband had been here a few times when it was a Pizza joint. They used to have flowers out here. Now it's just low slabs of concrete lying in front of the bar.
A perfect vantage point if you want to see anyone coming in or anyone leaving. Maybe the very best spot, if you want to pick someone up.
Damn, but the concrete was hard, though. Got to you after a while. It's time to retreat inside the empty bar and have another Marguerita, and give my butt a break.
Next time I'll come in later, when the gals are here. As for tonight.... It's been over six years between women, and my skin and blood are in a perpetual fever. I've waited through the long divorce process, I got the final papers today, and now I'm searching for a woman for the night.
I am here to get laid. Maybe by a nice soft woman with a large jiggly ass and a pair of breasts topped by hard suckable nipples. Maybe a skinny one with a tattoo or four. Anyone. All I could think of was how soft a women's skin was, what the satiny petal feel was of the inside of a woman's thigh, and how silky a female throat needing a woman's kiss could be.
Even I knew I was in really sad shape. I had to find someone.
One boilermaker later, and I was out in the best spot again, trying to control my shaking, watching night approach. I bummed a cigarette and light from one gal, then another nicotine stick from another gal that came by. So much for eighteen months of a clean lifestyle.
By the fourth mooched cigarette I was beginning to relate to my surroundings again.
Somewhere along the path of those many cadged smokes I'd noticed something unexplained out in the parking lot.
The come-and-go's.
More cars were coming in, single women and pairs, coming to a place where they can be a lesbian for a while in public. But some of them were women who left after parking for a few minutes.
First-timers. That's what they had to be. Women who came here to get laid by other women. Only these women lost their courage, they had to retreat to their boyfriends and apartments, or their suburban homes and husbands.
I noticed one dark sedan that left, she was just another frightened pussycat. Into the vacant space slid a Pontiac, and in it sat a blond with, maybe, nice bones. She sat there, nervous as a cat, trying to get up nerve. I got up for a closer look. The vengeful vagina, I quickly guessed. Her man had cheated on her, and she was gonna cheat back. Only this wasn't a singles bar and she wasn't looking to find a male eager to nail her for an hour or two.
Her thought had been to come to the Dyke place, the best spot for finding another woman. In three or eight minutes she'd probably head back home. Not knowing what woman love could be.
Not sure just what I was gonna do, I wandered down the lines of cars. She noticed me, then looked away. She was tall and beautiful, very Nordic. It would be easy to imagine that long golden hair obscuring her naked breasts. I walked around the side of the car, to knock on the passenger side window.
She jumped at the knock, then watched amazed as I slid in alongside her. In Detroit she should learn to keep her doors locked.
"Hi there," I smiled. "I'm Katie, Kathryn Janeway, what's your name?" Rather weakly she replied that it was Annika, Annika Zimmerman. I caught a glimpse of the wedding and engagement rings.
"Your husband has been cheating on you, hasn't he?" Wild but not improbable guess. She crumpled at the question, then rebounded.
"Does it show that much?"
"They all cheat on you, eventually, love. It's the way men are built. And society keeps the old double standard going.
"When my husband cheated, I usually bought a new vibrator," I noted. "Gave them names, too. Did you ever give one of yours a name? I had a vibrating anal plug I called Amos. Amos and Anal -- you get some interesting good vibrations when you got both holes plugged."
"Anal plug?" she asked, trying to believe it had to mean something else than she thought it was. "What's that?"
It was hysterical the way she acted after I told her a few things you could buy for your own fun. After some of the laughter died down, I directed her out of tiny sized parking lot of "The Railroad Crossing", and got her onto 8 Mile Road. "Tip-Top Books" Store was open when we got there (it was always open). I'd explained it was mostly about adult video rentals for men, and peepshow booths for men. It also had women's items for sale.
It was laughs and giggles all the way inside. The five men inside tried not to stare at us. They grew good wood watching us, listening to me rate the effectiveness of some of the sex toys.
Annika didn't flinch when I got my hand in the small of her back, or held her wrist. The Black female clerk was there and it was 'just us girls' immediately. She pegged the situation as Seduction 101, and carefully eyed me as my hand kept body contact with my tall blond.
A few times we moved apart, and I had a chance to study, to enjoy her form, her body, her strong beautiful petite face on that tall frame. I do not think there was an inch of her I didn't want to cover with kisses. She knew I was looking, she was more than a bit hesitant, but she wasn't moving away. She knew she'd been picked up at a dyke place by someone who had to be a dyke. But she wasn't running away.....yet.
It was when I was showing her the inflatable dolls for men that I leaned close, giggling, and put a tentative hand around her waist, caressing her lovely rear. It was then Annika straightened slowly, looking down at me while she did.
"I'm not a lesbian," she whispered. Yet she didn't pull away when I leaned closer, edged in front of her, pulled at her head and stood on tiptoe to softly press my lips to hers. First kiss. Every inch of me was aware of where she was in relation to myself.
Second kiss and I knew every man in the place was full of envy. She broke away, but did nothing to stop my wandering caressing hands. Her arms were the softness of a bath scent. Her rounds of ass were the swells of a fine silk pillow, her neck the perfect flowing lines of a first caress.
At the end of our shopping trip Annika bought a small vibrating anal plug and a large pink rubberoid creation covered with a hundred little knobs. I wondered if I would ever feel them inside me? When? Tonight?
I bought a full-sized dildo with a few dozen colored beads in it's transparent base, and in it's clear plastic balls. I wanted to use it on Annika tonight. I bought two dual-pack "C" cells at about four times normal retail price.
Just in case.
Every man in the store was stiff by the time we left.
Outside we clutched each other, me the aggressor, Annika squirming, liquid hot, her skin emitting sparks, both of us sweating in the mild spring air. "....I am not a lesbian....." Annika weakly said, time and again, but she did not beat me away, she did not pull away from my hands quivering in gentleness on her large, oh-so-soft breasts. I could feel the hard knobs of her nipples growing under my touch, her heaviness was the comforts of angels in my hands.
On tiptoe I inclined her lips for my kisses. Her neck writhed under my trailing licking.
"Need any help with her?" some anonymous male voiced. Hell, we were still in the "Tip-Top" parking lot. Annika was immediately as responsive as a boulder on a mountainside. We had to get back to my car, at "The Railroad Crossing".
During the drive back, she allowed my occasional caress, but she had had her mood snapped, back there. Yet... Every touch of her magnificent body, her flawless model's face and cheek, created a new prairie fire in my belly. If Annika were to put her long-fingered hands in my groin, she would have found it drowning. I would have come on her first caress, yes, yes.
Her car swerved when I first put my shaking hand in her crotch. She desperately intoned her self-absolution as I slid that hand into her pants. "...I am not a lesbian..." Her panties were pale peach, almost as soft as her belly. Her throat tasted of bath talc, her ear tasted of Shalimar. Somehow we got back to "The Railroad Crossing" parking lot.
Annika was making small incoherent cries as I pulled her to me. My hands were all over her breasts, she allowed my kisses, she opened her mouth in gasps when one hand snaked under her blouse, down her dark slacks, between her panties and her flesh until I could feel her sex under my palm.
"...I am not a lesbian...." As soon as my middle finger penetrated her, she came all over my hand.
She was moaning, jerking, hurting one shoulder where she clamped it with strong hooks of steel fingers. Her mouth worked on mine, only a spectator would have called it kissing. Her hips bucked irregularly and wildly on my intruding fingers as she came again. Maybe she just didn't stop coming.
Her shirt was lifted and bunched into her armpits, then her sweet goddamned-so-fragrant bra and the soft swells of her breasts. As I sucked on her nipples I think she came again.
I straddled her leg, thankful I was small enough to fit against her in the cramped space of her Pontiac. I suckled gratefully on her other breast, my hand still working her in the sopping paradise of her groin. I scurried back and forth on her leg, reaching for my own peak, cupping her precious sex and rubbing it when I wasn't penetrating her.
We moaned together in our comes, one hand pinching a nipple, my mind full of fiery cataclysm-waves, my belly a wave of one electric discharge after another.
"....I am not... Not.... Not...." Annika managed. She could have fooled me.
Suddenly she breaks away. "I've got to go home. It's late. I've got to go home. I have a husband and a home.... Let me go, please. Now. Let me go now," Annika horsed.
She managed to push at me, she disentangled my hands from her, she jiggled her breasts back into that sweet powdered bra, she pulled her shirt down past her waist. In a good light I'm sure I would have found a large stain in her pant crotch, but she had the strength to paw at me, asking me with her hands to let her go.
"I'm a married woman, and I've got to go now, back to my husband, back to my home," she eventually said. "I'm not a lesbian, this has all been just an ... adventure. A little fun. A little sex. I've got to go back home now, it's getting late."
"I want to see you again some time," I murmured in her ear. "I want to do more now, I want to be your lover. Where do you live? When can I see you again? Wasn't it good for you? Please, Annika Hansen Zimmerman?
"I want to feel your naked skin against mine, I want you to sprawl across a bed with me and rub your beautiful skin against mine, I want, I need, I love....
"Don't you want me? What do you want, Annika, sweet beauty? Anything at all, anything you could want or ask...
"I'll be your slave chained to a wall, I'll put my tongue in every hole in your body, anything, anything, anything....
"Do you know what a strap-on dildo is? Anything....."
In the end I was standing in the parking lot alone, watching Annika drive north into suburb-land. Me and my vibrator were alone. I never got to use it .... Hell, I never got to get past the preliminaries. I felt like a bride at an altar, holding her bouquet. Stood up. I felt like softening wax.
The vibrator went on the front seat, and I turned into the sound of the country music coming from the bar. I still needed a woman for the night.
There was a petite Latina in skirts sitting on the concrete slabs, sitting alone in the best spot. She watched me walk past, then smiled up at me as I went around and sat by her side. A real beauty, and she was still smiling even after she'd had enough time to see how much older I was.
"You're very pretty," I tried. "In fact you're gorgeous." She let me caress her arm. "I'm surprised your girlfriend lets you out alone at night."
Bigger smile. "I don't have a girlfriend right now, good looking. Would you like to be my next
girlfriend? I warn you, though, you're got to have the right name. If you don't have the right name, I've
got to keep searching. What's your name?"
Oh, this one was into fun and games. I could handle that ... I think.
"Katie, Kathryn Janeway, is that the right name?" The slight girl put a surprisingly muscular arm around my neck, pulling me closer. We kissed, and she drew my hand to the legs hiding under her skirt.
"Bingo," she whispered.
"I want someone as well, but like yourself, she has to have the correct name. What's yours?"
"Belle, Belle Torres, Belle Anna Torres. Is it the right name?"
"Bingo," I said, as my hand snuck under her skirt. When we retired to our cars, later, she couldn't stop laughing when she spotted my large new vibrator sitting on the passenger seat.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was the next morning. Unfortunately I sprawl when I sleep, but fortunately I have a Queen-sized bed, and we were at my place. A petite hand was softly caressing my belly, poking at my 'inner' belly-button, touching my thighs. Belle began licking my pubic hairs while I stared down at her.
God, how many times had I... Her tongue... The taste of her sex as she came, the hard biting of her nipples she had asked for. I pulled her to me, savoring the feel of woman. Oh, I had really been overdue for something like this....
Belle came up for air and told me: "I have to leave now."
Oh sweet Jesus on a stick...! Another married one?
Torres saw my look and chuckled, fondling one breast. "I gotta feed my cats. You can come along, if you wish. My place is just another apartment, and if I don't clean their litter real regular like, they get very bent out of shape.
"They'd like a place like this, plenty of room, plenty of places to look out on the world. Watch the birds outside get mellow and plump." She was also asking how did I wind up with a place like this. Where was the husband that usually came with a nice new condominium like this.
"I'm divorced, and we split the money from the place when we get it sold. And I'd love to see your place. What are your cats?" I asked.
They were one Burmese and one Siamese, neutered, friendly. Unhappy at a dirty litter box, and even more unhappy at getting just milk and dry mix. I was wearing a nice dark floral print dress for the neighbors to view. With nothing underneath, for me.
I was playing on the floor with the cats when Belle Anna walked in wearing nothing but a red leather strap-on with a large red dildo. Strap-on technology had made great strides in the past six years.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
This was impossible. I had the name and address of a young sexy un-entangled love kitten who would take me to her bed in a minute's notice. She had me feel ... so satisfied, at least in a physical sense. Yet here I was, Friday night, back at "The Railroad Crossing," early, before the joint started jumping. Outside, hurting my butt by sitting on this cold concrete, hoping to see a particular Pontiac pull up with a ... my ... blond inside.
She wasn't mine. She was a married woman having a gay fling. That was all. A little wild sex in the front seat of her car, just like any teenager at a drive in. Though drive-in's were dead and gone now. They were great passion-pit's in their time, though.
I'm insane to think she'd return. She'd gotten her single dance on the wild side of the street, and she was going to stay home and make western omelet's and tuna casserole's for hubby. Give her hubby sex once a week and let him pick the TeeVee shows they watched. In time she'd believe I seduced her against her will, and she could forget me without a shred of guilt.
I saw a dark car enter the lot and I was already moving. Annika drove into a spot, and I was easing myself through her passenger door before she stopped rolling. Then I was kneeling on the passenger seat, pulling her lips to mine through sheer force of will.
Her hands held my hips until I oozed down the front of her dress. Dress, I thought. No pants this time, just like me, a dress that could be moved out of the way. Easily. She'd come back, wanting more of me, wanting more sex with me.
I pulled her hands under my skirt, urged a hand to grope my wet naked groin. I rubbed my damned hot sex against the shivering hands of Annika, already looking for my first come. I had to shed tears, my come felt so good when her fingers entered me.
Twelve or fifteen minutes later we both had to lean back, totally exhausted. Our minds had been turned to fresh salt water taffy by a few wet orgasm's each. We were both hot and soft and sticky. Neither one of us had bothered with underwear, this time.
The knocking on the driver's window threw us both into shock. We re-arranged ourselves a little and rolled the steamy window down enough to reveal one of the rent-a-cops.
"I don't want to rain on your parade, ladies," the lean Black renta-cop said, "But could you please take your romance out on the road somewhere else? Municipal ordinance says we can't have any sex stuff on the premises. And you know the Detroit fuzzy-balls love to bust you gals iffen you get a little bit too obvious out in public. You dig?
"If it was up to me, you gals could do anything you want to out here, but it's not my say that counts.
"Oh," he added. "Y'all gals have a really good night, okay?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
We rendezvoused across 8 Mile Road at the Wendy's. Somewhere back there, we'd picked up enough hungries so that we both ordered the basic with Pepsi.
She'd grown up in Warren, and went to Wayne College long enough to get a medical tech degree paper. Then she did the American Dream thing by marrying the doctor she worked for. Unfortunately, he was a workaholic who couldn't stop hitting on his medical tech's.
Wood paneling in the bottom floors of the house just didn't substitute for loneliness. Or forgive cheating. Same old story.
In contrast my story was a success story, I guess. Eventually I am going to be a bank branch manager. After which I will never advance any further.
Twenty-five Vice-president's and not a female in the Executive crew at Manufacturer's Bank.
I talked about my marriage, and for the first time mentioned out loud to her my years as a bisexual and a lesbian. My first sex was with another twelve-year-old, back in a church-sponsored Wilderness Camp. My first man was at sixteen, he was eighteen.
Annika said she was deflowered -- nice term -- at the High School Prom. She said she was straight, or had thought herself straight, all these years. I leaned close to her as she talked about her husband. She admitted she didn't know what else was wrong with her marriage besides his cheating, but she felt there was much more. All those thousands of little problems and little insults. She was -- basically -- unhappy.
I rolled her skirt until I could caress her thigh and ask her where she lived? If we could go somewhere? Did we have time? I could feel the heat of her body.
To myself I remembered I still had that vibrator, and it was cherry and I'd like to use it on her.
In the end she motored away by herself. Nothing resolved, me not knowing what to expect. She had my home number and bank branch number and my address, if she wanted to use it.
After thinking a bit, I phoned my spicy little Latina. Belle Anna was waiting or hoping for my call, I think. She thought a little dancing at the "Crossing" sounded like a good idea.
While waiting for her inside, I thought I had to be totally nuts. Getting obsessed with a big blond who wouldn't admit to her lesbian streak.
Nothing but confusion and anguish lay on that path, I told myself. I got a sweet young female who was willing to give me everything a woman was made to give. Why was I getting myself bound up about married Bi gal? Was there something about me that needed emotional pain and frustration?
And if I was setting myself for a fall, why didn't I cut Belle Anne free? Send her away and embrace my need for pain....
Oh God ...
I was in love. With a Married Woman. I was the embodiment of a hundred thousand lesbian jokes. I'd fallen for the married straight gal. Almost straight. She thought of herself as mostly straight.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The next time she pulled into the "Crossing" parking lot she was there ahead of me.
It was yet another fuck-frenzy encounter, of course, with me doing the finger-fucking and her having the frenzy. She got my business card, with my bank telephone, again. She refused to give me any promises. Then she left. Again.
I was partially bent over and crippled in my own needs. I hated her at that moment for doing that to me. I loved her for herself. I hated me for being such a fool.
Inside the bar I found two baby-dykes drinking diet Coke's. They both hit on me, and I let them take me back to one of the stall's. They got me off a few times and I left with the younger one, young and cute, black hair in a prince valiant cut.
It was fun teaching her how to eat a woman. She was almost a virgin, because she'd only had two women before me.
When I came on her eager learner's mouth I thought of Annika.
Fuck her. I hated Annika. She treated me so bad.
I loved Annika. I got excited just thinking of her pretty face enjoying my wet crotch. Which is what she would do, some day. She would, she would, I knew she would. She had to. I would die if she didn't.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I stayed away from the "Crossing" for six weeks. Belle Anna and I spent two consecutive weekends up on the Lake Huron coast, in the thumb area. She made me wear my new green bikini, and it helped give me a nice case of sunburn, as well as a nice boost to my ego.
The boost came from having dozens and dozens of men and teenagers who found reasons to walk by in the sand, enjoying all my sweet broiling female flesh. I bulged over on one strap or two, but the guys admired it and hit on me continuously. Interesting, maybe you can tell me why a dyke can get such a thrill from lots of male attention.
Belle Anna wore a spectacular lavender one piece thong. Every time I saw those taut cheeks lying out in the sun I wanted to grope them. I must have put fifty layers of suntan oil on her ass.
Whenever we could, we'd play our nasty little sex games on our big beach towels. It was soooooo easy to play with the other. The bikini and throng were MADE to be eased out of the way by a determined hand.
As soon as our section of the beach was free of nearby spectators, we'd play with each other. We must have done better than....a few orgasms each. Then we'd also skinny dip at night. If you were careful, you didn't get any sand in places where it would irritate.
One of the local gals at the mom-and-pop store made us for dykes. That night she and her girlfriend dropped by. We didn't segue into any foursomes, but it was fun talking erotic, and watching the clerk and her baby-dyke practice their foreplay at the same time Belle Anna and I did. Then they moved a tiny distance from us. We could make sex at the same time we could hear the other pair of girls make sex.
We did that a few nights. If nothing else it made the four of us happy to sit under the stars together and drink diet RC and Stroh's beer and Ohio wine's together. We bonded. Wemade obscene joke's and studiously watched the other couple make careful foreplay in front of us. By the time they moved their naked bodies away, me and Belle Anna were ready to upgrade our own foreplay into noisy loving.
Belle Anna and me were growing into an item. I tried to convince myself we were more than a pair of eager sex-cats.
I could almost forget about Annika.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The car keys were in my hand, I was about to go off for work the early morning when Annika called me. I was a minute from going through the door to my dreary responsibilities.
"Mark is going to a convention in Indianapolis," Annika said. "His fucking medical aide is going with him. He won't be back until Thursday afternoon.
"Would you be able to spend a little of that time with me?"
My Bank gave me two days sick leave, immediately, no problem.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Her long skirt was a pale ochre, and I finally knew where she lived. It was Bloomfield Hills, of course. Where else would a Doctor live?
I was in an ankle-length tasselated night-blue skirt and matching bolero, and she was a goddess with her long blond hair shifting in the breeze. All I could think of was that hair caressing every inch of my body.
We both looked so straight anyone seeing us together would have given us the Sunday School to run in a second. Annika gave me the tour of the outside, showing off the roses and shrubs in the back. We sat on the patio, she served Sangria, we pretended to be straight female friends.
I tired of the pretense, and I told her I was naked underneath my clothes. She said she had underwear on underneath. I asked if I could take it off? I told her in graphic detail what some of the things were that I wanted to do to her. She giggled, we had a lot more Sangria, and we rose to go inside.
I followed like a puppy. By the door I stood with my tongue wagging, my front paws in begging mode, a pet dog eager to please. I had no shame. Annika should laugh more, her smile is unendurably sexy.
Once inside she spun around for our kisses. Long, often, passionately, she hardly knew how to kiss. I'd teach her.
We circled on the carpet, a sort of dancing, an erotic tarantella, striving to touch and caress everywhere at once.
Our bodies and hands were forever moving, touching, caressing. Annika expected us to go to her bed immediately, to have sex in that safe accustomed place. Instead we engaged in this dance, twirling and circling and squeezing. She helped me take her skirt off in the foyer, I adored taking off her blouse in the corridor, and her bra fell to the rug at the foot of the stairs.
"Lie back," I commanded. "We're about to inaugurate your stairs. Yes, lie back, lift your hips, let me get your pants off. I'm about to give you something to remember for the rest of your life." Bragging. Wanting to make it the truth for her, it was my fondest wish, something I would die to accomplish. I wanted to make Annika forever remember her long legs open on this stair, her comings flowing from my mouth.
I should have put her into a cool-sheeted quiet. I should have taken a half hour caressing and kissing her before I even got to her belly. Her nipples should have been over-full and tight onto bursting from my kisses. Instead she braced her legs against the wall and the banister, opening herself to me.
Oh yes, she knew what awaited her on those stairs. Annika squealed as I placed love-bites on her long smooth immaculate thighs. She groaned as I began to bite her pubic hairs. She squirmed as I teased her with lickings and more bites closer and closer to her sex. She twisted and begged me to eat her as I touched my tongue to her hairy, fat and tinged sensitive labia.
Then I laved my lips on her sex, taking her clit between my teeth and stretched it from her belly.
She was in shock, she was unmoving as her clit snapped back. Then my tongue followed, pleasing and wetting her sex, tasting the clear woman taste she was already fluid with, without a trace of brine. She had the most beautiful enticing woman-honey I'd ever tasted.
She fixated into a series of slow grindings for me, she gripped my head with one hand, she bucked her groin into my face, I could not lick fast enough the flow of her come, I rubbed my face into it, I seized her thighs, I was in a heaven to know so the taste of her coming. My head twisted, I rubbed my head into her groin, I rubbed my hair and my brow and my chin and my face into her as she came again on me.
I was in love with her, I adored the way she let me give her such a glorious loving. She tasted so exquisitely .... feminine, musky, beautiful, raunchy, unequivocal.
I couldn't bear to take my face out of her soft blond pussy, licking her pubic hair delighted her and delighted me. Quickly I was in her seat of womanhood again, adoring the silk of her thighs, the perfumed rankness of cunt mouth. I had thought her beautiful, I now thought of her as perfect.
I adored her clit, and the stiff rod it was between my teeth. I could not imagine labia more ready or eager for the way I twisted and teased and bit and pulled. She was a creation made for the fulfillment of a lesbian's dreams and the accomplishment of a Dyke's fantasies. She came for me again, her clit pulsing between my incisors. Her tiny length of clit became so fantastically prominent in her comes.
We were at the bottom of the stairs by then. We had to get up, we somehow climbed the stairs, she helped me out of my skirt, I couldn't stop kissing those large moving loving breasts. She groaned when she fed them to me. The air stunk of woman-musk, we stumbled into bed for chaotic sex. I ate her into another groaning come. Then we both stumbled out of bed when we both had to lose some of all that Sangria we'd filled ourselves with.
Rolling back into bed Annika pulled me to her like I was her favorite Teddy-Bear, licking my face, kissing me. Running her fingers over my neck (God! was that erotic and tender!), biting my ear lobes, nibbling on my shoulders and arms until my nipples found their way between those toothpaste-ad teeth. My hand masturbated myself furiously, my palm scrunching into my pulsating clit, her hand overlaying mine as I bucked furiously into my come.
I rolled her over then, lying sensuously on top of her as we kissed again. I taught her to leave the tongue unused until we had timed and coaxed each other into first touching with love, with the lips and the tongue flowing naturally into touching and licking. Trailing lips and tongue over the other's lips, trailing love onto the face and ears and throat and brow and hair.
One at a time, not being pushy with the tongue, letting it find your lover's tongue almost by chance. Being patient, letting it happen naturally, building up to it, instead of assaulting a mouth with your rush, your impatience, only your love and your caring. Letting it grow into your need.
We lay side by side and slowly and carefully kissed, letting the passion drive us along as our hands masturbated and penetrated each other.
We would pause, caressing, finding the pleasures of touching the other's body, letting it build until we were using our fingers and hands again on the other's body.
Eventually we had to sleep, tight in each other's arms, our legs together. We were lovers and it was good.
She was discovering me with the tips of her fingers when we awoke. Not caresses, journeys of discovery, mapping unknowable ground. She pinched my nipples, and they became instantly erect. She giggled at the change.
"I've never known a woman before. I had not realized it would be so much fun to touch one, to feel one." At that she laved my thighs and belly with her palms, hefting, lifting, groping my breasts and giggling as they moved like tiny bodies of water under her warming touch.
After kissing for long minutes, I tried to roll her back on the bed, my hands already finding her moist groin with my palm and fingers. She reared up, gently and firmly pushing me back.
She lay on top of me, those large full breasts rolling onto mine, her lips finding me, practicing new ways of kissing, loving me.
She licked down my chin and neck, her own nipples tracing lava spills on my belly as she took my breasts between her teeth. I snuck one hand between us, she pushed mine away as she masturbated me with the back of one pale fine-boned hand. I came for her, rubbing my groin in her knuckled caress as she took one nipple after another in her mouth for gentle grinding biting.
Then her mouth was in my groin hairs, caressing, licking, pulling. Then her mouth found me.
i came
and came again
and
I had to roll away from her, it hurt too bad, it hurt so good, I had to stop coming. I rolled into a foetal state and groaned for my Annika.
"Did I do that right?", Annika asked.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It was full night time when we stumbled downstairs for something to munch. I bounced downstairs in all my naked pale glory, teasing Annika until she abandoned her robe with a sea of giggles. I tickled her a dozen times until she had to roll on the carpet, all hysterical joy. She was closing blinds and pulling drapes together even as I tickled her again.
We decided a little Pillsbury chocolate chip cookie dough would be fab, and Annika filled our glasses with milk. She sat down beside me in the kitchen, then immediately got up.
"Wait," she advised, "Just a second."
She got small towels for each of us to sit on.
"I was all sticky when I sat down," she confessed. It took a few minutes for me to stop laughing.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was quiet and fully dark when I awoke the next time. I know I felt marvelously sticky myself. Uncomfortable and sexy and satisfied and happy and needing another shower. We both loved what a little imagination could turn a douche into.
In any event, I woke when Annika turned the bed-light on. She carefully preened my groin, combing my hairs with her finger-tips. Admiring me, curious, making me know the object of her attention was my sex.
"I never knew how beautiful a pussy could be. There was always a faint touch of disgusting things to my body there, it was where my monthly bloods came from. I always felt so dirty there, for a few days a month. But it's not that way at all," she said. "Are all women's pussies so graceful? Or is yours especially lovable? It's amazing how the contrasts and confusions look so poetic close up. You're a flower, this close, a strong yet delicate flower.
"You're ravishing there, so elegant, so cute," Annika continued. "I'm fascinated by the way a woman's pussy looks close up. I want to eat you, all night and all day." Blowing teases on my hairs, she made two light caresses with her tongue tip. "I feel like I didn't know what sex was before I met you. I didn't know what it was like before you, and now I don't know if I can live without you."
She giggled as she slid up my smaller body. She enjoyed rubbing her large soft fluid breasts on my own smaller swells. We could feel all our nipples hardening as she burnished her body with mine.
She also had learned to caress my face with her tongue. And she kissed now like a harvester working her way across a field of grain. It would take a while to do the entire field, but each step was graceful and agile and flowing.
Close to my ear Annika asked her question; "Is my pussy sensual....beautiful, to you?"
"All of you is beautiful and sensual, Annika, and your gorgeous pussy is probably the most beautiful part of you," I said. This at least must be common to every lesbian in the world. We love the way a woman's groin looks, smells and tastes.
What else could I do but prove to her how splendid her sex was, how it excited me, and how much I enjoyed her coming on my face? Then she wanted to taste me again.
Afterwards, when we were sleeping figures again, I managed to wonder where her two new toys were. Not that they were needed. I wondered if I'd be able to get her over to my place tomorrow.
I wondered if she could love me.
Annika certainly had developed a full-blown fixation on lesbian sex. I was afraid, though. Someday I would propose to Annika that she leave Mark and live with me. Someday might be already upon me, and my deepest fear was that she would say no.
Another fear was that she would say yes, and thence wither my life? Was I already willing to commit to another marriage so soon after the other? If she could say yes I knew I could surmount that fear.
I loved her, and I don't think it was all heart-breaking glorious delightful sex. Though it was hard to tell, right now. What would she do with a proposal?
The answer, I was sure, would be to deny me. Yet I must ask the question.
Annika slept beside me, calm, innocent somehow. I lay quiescent and awake for more than an hour, feeling her warm body alongside me, her rose-petal hip under my hand. I was so full of fear and worry and satisfaction, dreading tomorrow and all the other tomorrow's.
Surely Annika was also thinking a lot about tomorrow. Greeting her husband and pretending not to know who he took with him. Feeling bittersweet knowing tomorrow might be the only time we'll have together until some unknown future date. Not knowing how either of us might handle our separation.
I've GOT to get her over to my place for a few hours at least.
And then there was the problem of Belle Anna. I HAD to cut her loose, right now, it was the only fair thing to do next.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was just after work, Friday. "Belle Anna," I began, "Could we meet tonight at your place?"
"Sure," she said, "you sound serious. Something wrong?"
My throat was so dry at that instant. "Can I just talk to you tonight? We've got to talk."
There was a very long pause on the phone, I didn't quite know what to say next. I didn't know what Belle Anna was thinking.
"You've got another woman," she managed, "don't you?"
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Sometime in Saturday morning, when I awoke, crooked, on the front seat of my car, when the sun had barely risen the tears finally left me. The scratches had stopped bleeding. Again I fell asleep in my car. The next time I came awake, sitting upright in my front seat I saw Belle Anna leave in her car. I don't think she saw me.
Eventually I stopped crying again, and I managed to make it to Vicki's house. My sister took me in and undressed me and put me in a hot bathtub of water. She gave me a bathrobe, fed me coffee and her family got flapjacks because she decided I needed sugar. Mama Gretchen came by with a pork-chop casserole, lots of sinful butter fats and starch and animal meat. It was glorious, and exactly what was needful.
Sunday early, Phoebe picked me up.
She sat me in a couch with rips in it and one corner held up by magazines and a brick. Between times of dozing off, I watched for hours as she worked on an odd charming sculpture. Full of Maxfield Parrish soft curves, the concept emerging alive from the cool gray stone.
It was a little boy in shorts lying on his side, with a cat leaning back against his hip. Phoebe said she would have made him nude except for fact that the political climate Reagan and Bush created would have been in an uproar. Still, you could imagine him as laying under cool blue skies. Propped on one elbow he watched a Siamese-like cat. The cat was very child-like, leaning back against the boy's hip like another child, as it wove a golden cat's cradle. Stone claws open, prehensile, handling only a few golden threads right now. But from those threads you could see what the finished sculpture would look like, the cat's eyes intent on it's weave.
Later Phoebe opened a few beers and we spent time talking. I told her of Annika and Belle Anna. She tucked me into a nap, safe from her cat, and left me to enjoy my despair.
Our brother woke up, having brought several different cheese's over. We three went out on a picnic to a public park next to a Library. One where no ever went and we could talk.
I got through the weekend.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
"You must be Mark, Annika's husband," I smoothly said. "I'm glad to finally meet you, at last." Shaking his hand at the door. "I'm Annika's new friend, we met at the health center, I'm trying to talk her into coming with me there. I bring in a new member and we both get half-price memberships for a year, the first three months free."
My perfect blond was there by then and her face of confusion and hesitancy was utterly exquisite. She got a bland face in a few seconds, letting me take the lead. It was like something out of a dumb TV situation comedy.
I introduced myself better then, adding that I was an assistant bank manager. Adding the name of the health club I had joined early last year after my husband had moved out.
Our dialogues were about Mark from the beginning. All it took was for me to pretend I was impressed about something that Mark Zimmerman did, said, had done, had thought about, and was wounded about what one of his fellow Doctor's had done or said.
In the next week Annika informed me her husband couldn't stop admiring my intelligence, my understanding, and my sense of humor. He thought me a great conversationalist. Not to mention he couldn't get his eyes off my butt in those smooth tight pants.
The joke, of course, was on him.
He opened one of his own cellar wines, a genuinely tasty California Chablis. He even let it breathe before decanting any of it.
"WHAT the hell are you doing?" Annika desperately asked once she got both of us alone.
"I'm being close to my favorite woman," I replied, caressing her belly and groin with the back of my hand. "Just relax. I'm being your new straight friend. I'm going to coax your husband into liking me and sending you off to join my club. After which we'll be able to see each other a whole lot more.
"Trust me on this. We can make this work. You have a better idea?" I asked.
Seeing the extent to which Doctor Mark was bending his bald head in my direction, I went in for overkill.
First off, remember I had arrived in a set of gray slacks, pretty tight fit. I mean, folks, I'm no moron, I knew I had a nice body for a little no-longer-young woman, and a good set of soft billowy tits.
Every pulsing inch of me was laid out for the Doctor's admiration. After he knew I was a divorcee, I presumed he was thinking along the lines of every men's locker room joke. Divorced woman, used to it, accustomed to having sex, easy lay, etc., etc. A mature woman, pretty accustomed to getting what she needed.
God, men are so predictable. Ten times in the course of the evening he tried to leave his hand in the small of my back. Thirty or so times he held my arm or caressed it.
We were drinking the last of his Chablis when I threw in my carefully predicted clincher.
"Could I show you two my dance routine? As part of a continuing grace and exercise program a gal stage-named Nadiyah is teaching me and a few others how to belly-dance, Greek style. So far only my family has seen how bad I look doing it.
"It's a small class and I'd LOVE to have someone I knew, in the class. Annika would be devastating, she would easily be the prettiest woman there. Maybe they'd look at her and not notice my flabby belly.
"I'll show you what I can do, and you'll be allowed to laugh at me later. Would you say yes, that you want to see my belly dancing? Pretty, pretty, pretty please with sugar sprinkles on top???"
I brought my gym bag in from my car, and I co-opted Annika as my dressing assistant. I stripped in their bedroom, caressing my gorgeous blond every moment I could spare.
Eventually I stood bare-foot in her bedroom, wearing my sports bra, belly sash and pantaloons, cymbals on my fingers and foot jewelry on, not to mention gauntlets. Dark blue Chinese silk, immense amounts of fake-gold sparkles and beadwork, and dozens of fake gold coins to jingle.
Gaudy was the only way I could describe myself.
I had a tape of belly-dancing classics in one hand and a flock of pigeons in my stomach. Suddenly I was lying full spread on Annika's bed and she was pinning me with her weight. For minutes we kissed, and I melted as Annika's demanding hand sneaked between pantaloons, belly scarf, and groin. She rose up and away, power in her smile, the smell of me on her hand, enjoying the way she could make me instantly wet. There was getting to be a lot of teasing dom bitch in my Nordic lover.
Taking me by the hand to raise me back up, she said; "Break a leg."
Mark put the music on, once Annika gave it to him, and I swept out from the foyer when it had begun. I must have been blushing bright red I was so worked up. Was I doing all this so that I could be near Annika?
Deep breathing first, my arms in the air. Arch and contract, belly forward jerk, pelvis curving, reach for the figure 8 configuration. arm movement, cymbals striking notes in the quiet air beyond the music.
I am a snake, I told myself, I am making sinuous undulations, dipping, doing figure 8's, moving, my hips almost always going around and around. Trying more, now, to deepen my hip gyrations,
hip-drops, recoveries, advancing towards my seated audience.
If only I'd taken more dance in high school, or some of those classes at Wayne State..... More shimmies, sharp contractions of the hip or belly when they're facing Mark and Annika.
Sharp biting shimmies, alternated with soft and fluttery, kind of tentative unsure quivering, working into more dramatic shimmies, until I was fluttering into earthquakes, practically throwing my hips and belly into Mark's lap.
A few minutes of slowing down, and a dozen dramatic twirls as the music began to end. Finale; One leg outstretched, arms whirling into a full leg stretch, my head down on my knee as the last notes from the Dombok faded.
I got plenty of applause, Annika gave me a lifting hug, and the good Doctor had to lift himself carefully, trying to hid his stiff one as he eased over to us. Poor man. Annika streamed back upstairs with me, and Doctor Zimmerman went into the kitchen to put some ice cubes on it, or whatever it was men did to get over an erection.
In the bedroom I desperately skinned out of my costume, grabbing an aloof Annika for a deep clumsy kiss.
"Please, please, Annika......." I begged, feeling my whole belly turning to electric sparks whirling around my groin. Her hand found my belly button, teasing it.
"Do we have time?" she coyly replied. Her hand brushed my pubic hairs, making my sex burning hot. Tease, tease, tease.
"We have enough time," I said and hoped. "Please love me, please fuck me, please, please........."
I had been expecting a little hand jive. Instead Annika (GOD, she was so big and strong -- was I becoming our bottom?) laid me on the bed and lowered her delightful face into my opening legs. Finding how wet I was, drinking and nibbling and licking and biting and pulling.
It only took a minute, and suddenly I was squirming and bucking into her sublime face. Her own pillow drowned my cries of release until I thought I would suffocate. Finally Annika brushed my pillow away as I lay gasping under her weight. She kissed me, I licked my taste off her lips and nose and chin.
It only took another minute for me to get dressed, and Annika brought a damp cloth for us to wipe the scent of my coming off the both of us. Another kiss, I finished dressing, and we returned to being straight girls as we walked down the stairs.
Mark had recovered from his erection, and was profuse with his praise. He joined me in thinking Annika would enjoy belly-dancing classes. The gym also had a tiny pool which Annika would appreciate.
Anything which might bring me and my ripe and aged but tight little body within reach of his macho hands. If only he knew.......
- - - - - - - - - - - -
There was an inevitable air to Annika and I growing more attached to each other. Our time together grew into living moments. We were Girlfriends now.
You know what I mean. Discovering things we both enjoyed, things we disliked together. Music, movie stars, belly-dancing just for itself. Political causes, political heroes, cheeses, Italian food, Impressionist paintings, Jefferson Airplane, sculptures by my Phoebe, times when we didn't need to say or do anything at all.
Growing together.
Visiting the nearby zoo and being sad for the animals. Getting decent tans in the sheltered backyard of her house, even after it became late September. Doctor Mark coming in from his golf and admiring both our bikini's and the flesh shown by them. Realizing just being near Annika made me feel complete.
One immense problem remained. Annika had to decide whether she was Bi, and whether she going to remain married. If Annika could decide if she was lesbian, and if she could take the next step. Leaving Mark. Going off with me.
Each moment with Annika made me hurt worse, each moment far from Annika made me hurt worse.
That night at the "Railroad Crossing" when I first met her, I guessed she was far more than merely a Bi. She'd come to a dyke bar on her own, a married girl, even if the outward cause of her arrival was a desire to pay back Doctor Zimmerman in his own cheating coin.
Annika had wanted a woman. Plain and simple. Revenge was secondary.
Now she knew she liked lesbian love. The question now was how much of a lesbian Annika was. And whether Annika was willing to admit how much of a lesbian she was.
I knew my own feelings. I'd presented them to Annika many times by now, trying each time we had a few minutes alone, or a few hours. I loved her, I loved her beyond caring, I loved her without reservation. The instant Annika came to me without any hesitations was the instant I became her wife, to honor and serve, through sickness and through fire.
Every time we met together now, I began it with my stomach in knots. The knots continued when we parted. The knots hurt worse at night when I tried to sleep. The knots tore me up each night when I woke to pat the empty pillows beside me.
Oh, Katie-me-darling, you have it bad.
And there was nothing more I could do about it. Annika knew how I felt about her. I'd proposed a life together three dozen times, in three dozen different ways. Until now I dared not mention it again, for fear of driving her away.
The decision must now come from Annika. I'd already made my decision so long ago .... just a few months ago? I loved Annika Hansen Zimmerman. But she would not take that last step towards me.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
"Relax, I will be with your wife all the time," I assured Doctor Zimmerman. "No strange men will be allowed to touch your wife. It's just a night out to see the Chippendale's. Admiring a bunch of male dancers does not mean having sex with them, Doc. All it means is that, Mark, a few hundred women get to un-repress their libido. We shout, we scream, we put dollar bills in their G-strings and we get to fondle a little young muscular flesh. It's a night out on the town for the women, that's all.
"Most of the women there tonight will probably screw the brains out of their husband's, and boy friends, once they get home. It's all very therapeutic. Trust me on this."
He still looked uneasy. Annika was trying very hard to look innocent. She didn't know whether we were actually going to go to my place and fuck our brains out, or whether we were actually going to watch the Chippendale Male Dancers shake their booties.
Doctor Mark bought it, once he realized he'd be all alone all night. Just himself, the TV, a little microwave popcorn.
And his medical assistant. If he invited her over. If. Is the Pope Catholic? A lot could be done with a little popcorn oil.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
We were traveling east, and Annika was all over me. At least up to the point where it was still safe for me to drive. We stopped, and Annika looked up from biting my ears to notice we were in a parking lot.
"It's the place where the Chippendale Male Dancers are, Anni, my flower. Just for a minute we're going in."
"I don't want to watch a bunch of hard male jock bodies sway and gyrate in front of my face," Annika pouted. "I'd rather watch you sway and gyrate in front of my face. That'd be a lot more fun. Why are we here? Tell me or I'll take your clothes off and make mad passionate love to you. Then finish that up with some ravishment with oodles of hot sex and love and passion and tenderness. Does that compute?" And all the time nibbling on me.
Annika was still complaining as I dragged her beautiful straight-female persona ass through the door. For two lesbians we were certainly two convincing-looking straight girls.
I paid the two five-dollar cover fee's, and they stamped the back of each of our hand's with a chaotic mark.
We immediately turned around and I dragged Annika back to my car. Once inside I explained.
"We each now have proof that we were to the Chippendale Male Dancing show tonight. Simple, yes?
"Now we go where we get to see the sort of dancers we like."
- - - - - - - - - - - -
"The Duchess" wasn't much of an operation, even for a girlie strip dance joint. Small parking lot, located in Detroit, brick exterior, room inside for a runway, two poles for the gals to dance all over on. Plus more than a few hundred men, if you pushed a little. Typical modern strip joint. Loud music, pitchers of beer, and not too many customers on a Tuesday night.
Annika was both peeved that I was keeping this such a secret, and marvelously thrilled to be playing some kind of secrecy game. All the child in her was operating at full thrust. We were having a fun adventure.
Once we were past the cover charge and bouncer at the door, a few hands waved at us from the far end of the runway. fifty or so gals were already there, being a party. Out-numbering the few straight white males who were here to see a little naked female flesh to take home with them in their memories. Well, we were here also to, almost, do the same thing.
I got my wine cooler and Annika got a Rum & Coke, and we settled in on the edge of the GirlZone now existing at the edge of the runway.
Some bored blond was doing her PoleCat routine, though she certainly noticed she had a bunch of babe's as her audience tonight. Babes all ready to stuff dollar bills down her G-string and do a little friendly fondling when they did so. The dancer's eyes were sparkling from the attention, and her smile was getting quite sincere.
It's hard to be stand-offish under that much genuine lust and love. She was glowing by now from the caresses and cheers. Even a straight girl likes a little loving. Even a straight girl likes to be complimented, appreciated, lusted after. The string of bills she acquired on a slow Tuesday night didn't hurt, either.
Girls are different from men. Men are deadly serious in a strip joint. Women are loud. Men are usually cheap. Men are afraid to get physically close to each other. Girls love to get close when they're having fun. Girls are fun and laughter incarnate. Women squeal with pleasure. That the dancers they were appreciating were other girls didn't change the equation.
In that place and time the air was rent with laughter and whooping and loud chatter and cries of passion and appreciation. Because of the audience the joint was jumping. The girls made it happen.
That average-looking young blonde came down after her dance and mingled with the girls. She was enjoying herself.
A pale blond with a Tinker-Belle hair cut and a wry face brought a superb body onto the Runway as she climbed into her dance. She moved gracefully, obvious real dance lessons in her every motion. She managed a smile, touching the fingertips of dozens of her own kind, encouraging her for this first time. She made an air-kiss, towards a big beefy brunette with long hair and a black leather jacket.
"That's Bambi," I explained to Annika. "Her real name is Barbara. That's her girlfriend, Andy, Antonietta.
"This is Bambi's first night as an erotic dancer. Bambi can make several hundred bucks a week as a stripper. She might make two hundred at Dominio's, if she works like hell and takes all the overtime.
"Bambi has a degree in Anthropology and a minor in Modern Dance. She can get zero dollars a week for that. You go figure out the options."
There was some confusion about the music, until the Elton John hit "Island Girl" came belting out into the night.
It took Annika a few minutes to realize the Girls present had their own lyrics for the song.
"I love girls / I want to give them all a whirl;
I love girls / Each one is such a precious pearl..."
The singers were ragged, and missed a lot of the other verses, but the chorus became a boisterous joy that swamped the machine music. Bambi did not dance for the manager, and she did not dance for herself. She danced for her sisters on the floor. She danced and danced .....
She danced and created something far beyond commercial stripper dance. She danced for family, she danced for her sisters giving her dollar bills, and love, and support, and caresses, and that women's lust that built fire in the groin and strength in the belly. She danced.
She was the most desirable woman on earth, and she flaunted every curve of hip, every line of thigh, every moving pillow of breast. The join of leg was a barely hidden mystery below a moving calmness of belly. She was woman.
She removed her top and her pink coral nipples enlarged in the cooler air. Also from the adoring caresses of five dozen women seeking to touch them. She dipped, touching the hands of the women loving her. She was Astarte, she was Salome, she was Eve, she was Mata Hari, she was Lucretia, she was Joan, she was desire made carnate.
In that moment she was the most seductive woman on Earth,
The sisters fed her caresses, of hip, of leg, and thighs. The sisters fed her loud voices, and dollar bills, and touchings and more touchings. You could see Bambi catch fire, become much more than a mostly naked woman gyrating on a stage.
The end of the song, and the next, and the last of her set. She descended to the pit, to merge with us girls while the next polecat, a lanky brunette, tried to gain everyone's attention. The girls were polite, a few liked her type, her G-string grew adorned with a few dollar bills. Annika and I hardly noticed.
Bambi got her top back on with some assistance, and she gleamed like bright brass under everyone's adoring attention. I beckoned her over, and with a sign of pacification to her girlfriend, I coaxed her to sit on Annika's lap. Annika's face was red as a beet when Bambi leaned all over my girlfriend to kiss and caress her. Perhaps only I saw Bambi slip a hand between those tall pale legs I loved to kiss and nibble on. Giving lava fire to Annika's had-to-be wet sex.
Bambi rose to go to other friends, giving Annika a light kiss. Annika quickly fit her long artistic hand between dancer Bambi's superb legs, loving her, fondling her sex. My own hand played lovingly over that artistic ass, slipping a fiver into Bambi's overloaded G-string.
Every lesbian and male in that bar was her lover at that moment.
It was impossible to talk during the music, but I caressed Annika's shoulders and back and hip and neck, trying to convey softness and love. Annika kept kissing my neck and face. It was a magic moment, sans sex, yet with my belly proclaiming sex, my skin on fire, Annika giving me shuddering gasps proclaiming her own fire-trails.
Other women there would occasionally caress our head's. We were all family that night.
Somehow it was Bambi's turn again, and the noise was thunderous. Again Elton John played underneath the voices of Dyke's singing their own power lyrics. Bambi gyrated, and again a string of bills gathered around her waist.
More amazingly two of the other dancers joined her onstage. It had truly become a Dykey night, as those two became a swirling threesome, twining themselves onto Bambi, pretending a slow-dance seduction of Bambi. The other two dancers made their own magic, dancing butt to belly, perhaps being bi for this night only, rubbing female flesh with their own female magic.
A waitress and the Bouncer made noises at the three squirming women on the runway. Cut it out.
The two other dancing girls gave a Big Bird salute to them, and the dancing continued. More Dyke's kept arriving, swelling the noise.
All the action was on our end, and many men gingerly joined the fringes of our swelling crowd. We must have had a hundred and sixty people, most Dykes, raising enough noise that strangers were coming through the door. Attracted by the noise spilling out onto Van Dyke Avenue.
I put a twenty in my mouth, and three or four Gals helped me rest my head back onto the runway. To them I was just a little redhead past her best years, inviting Bambi to sit on her face. To me I was on a Holy Quest.
Bambi looked around, and the manager dramatically put his arms in the air and turned around. Officially he saw nothing.
Bambi stepped out of her G-string, still moving strictly according to the music. By then it was "My Sharona", if I remembered right. Bambi slowly quivered herself onto my face, The twenty went somewhere, and I tasted the sweetness of Bambi for long moments. Her pouting Labia lips, her sex, tasted of how beautiful a woman's come was. Sometime during her recent dancing for our support group, she had come for us. She was SO wet......
Bambi lifted herself as I was helped back to my feet. Somehow I sat alongside Annika, dazed, short of breath, blind, hot. Unaware of what was happening, unable to think of anything but that exquisite taste. I must looked quite the sight.
Annika rose up, a twenty in her mouth, walking the few steps needed to put her back to the runway. Loving Dyke's helped her rest her head on the runway, loving Dyke's sighed in support and love as a naked Bambi came to Annika.
Had I looked so silly and so sensuous at the same time?
Bambi had an artistically trimmed blond dancer's groin, and her elegant groin fit itself to my lover's mouth. Bambi closed her eyes in joy. Her sex worked on Annika's lips and face and tongue, Annika was loving and licking her groin, Annika was tasting the lovely liquids of Bambi. Then they separated, and Annika was plain as day in a form of shock.
Insane, I passed out three of my own hard-earned twenty-dollar bills to the Girls going insane with me. Bambi obediently sat on face after face, her pale face the hue of deepest Pink.
Three men, one of them my crazy brother, laid their heads down as well. Bambi waited until her Girlfriend okayed it, then she briefly allowed them the same privilege, though for only a short moment.
My brother was enjoying himself tonight because I had told him what was going to happen here tonight. He kissed both me and Annika as he passed by.
The blond who had been dancing when I arrived, she was affording other girls the same privilege. Later I knew her stage name was Alison. I looked to her, and she mouthed a please to me. A finger crooked itself at me, biding me come to her. Come to this young Angel dancing in her nakedness and lust. I put another twenty in my mouth and the sisters helped me again to lay my excited head onto the runway.
She sat on me, and I enjoyed the banquet of this dancer's creamy groin as well. She was completely shaved, and her body fit perfectly on my mouth. When I made to get up, she sat more heavily on my face.
I was near to coming, myself. Her hands kept me down, and I heard screams and clapping above the music. She was wet, and my back was in stupendous ecstatic agony when she let me free.
Annika was standing alongside me as I straightened. She gave me a kiss, probably tasting the other dancer. She also, went to the runway, waiting for two other Dyke's to enjoy that PoleCat stripper first. It was almost too much to watch as that pure innocent-appearing pussy fitted itself to Annika's beautiful face.
I was sure that the dancer came on Annika's sculpted face.
Annika also was in complete shock when she sat down again. Six or eight of the girls kissed Annika. They knew as I did that the dancer had come on my blonde's loving mouth.
Her dancer's stage name was Alison. She came to sit with us after that bout of dancing, being rapt and attentive to Annika. But I made it obvious that I allowed only so much sharing of my girlfriend.
Bambi made over 1000 dollars that night.
At the "Duchess" I didn't drink anything more. I was the designated driver.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Our relationship changed after that night. Annika had been trying to convince herself prior to that episode at "The Duchess" that she was just bi. I think she came around to the opinion that she was a lesbian with some bi tendencies. I personally presumed she was a lesbian with delusions about being bi.
I only made one observation to her that it was a little crazy for a lesbian to be married to a man. Annika reacted badly to my expression. I knew I didn't dare push it any further right then. But Annika was greatly distressed, that much I could easily see.
We had Thanksgiving apart, but I showed up the next day. Annika had been with Doctor Mark and his numerous family, and it had been almost enjoyable. Though Annika was tired of fielding questions about the imminent pregnancy she wasn't having.
I brought a Care Package consisting of a few thick slices of my sister Vicki's glazed ham and Cherry pie. We played a few video games on the living room rug, and Annika worked hard for her wins.
For Christmas she told me she needed some time apart.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was not a good time. I played with my sex toys -- really hard -- for over a month. I kept my drinking rigorously controlled. I visited "The Railroad Crossing" three times, but I drank too much there, so I stopped going.
Besides, there was ice on the Best Spot. I didn't touch another woman, not even a baby-dyke. Sort of pointless to go.
Except I needed the presence of women around me. I loved the sounds of female voices. So I went again and again. It allowed me to dance with other women, allowed me to enjoy their touch and scent and soft skin. I saw Belle Anne with her new girlfriend, but we ignored each other. I ached to see her sensual beauty.
Annika did not call, I did not call her. She did not attend our Belly Dancing lessons at the Gym. For weeks I thought I could smell her in my sedan. I missed her so.
Spring came, rains, and now I was outside again at "The Railroad Crossing". With my coat tail tucked under me so that I could sit in the Best Spot.
I'd arrived that night late, and didn't bother going inside yet. Just smoking a Virginia Slims and letting the cold freeze something inside me so it didn't hurt so much.
"Will I have to stand those damned smelly cigarettes all the time now?", Annika asked.
She sat down beside me, dressed much too lightly for an early Spring evening.
"I'll quit. It's easy, I've done it thirty times at least," I croaked back. I could feel Annika's thigh against mine. She was back.
A silent moment as I nuzzled her long neck with my head and lips. "Are you back for good, now?" I asked.
We kissed, light licking, the mere tip of her tongue felt mine.
"I'm getting a divorce. Our words bordered more on assault than confrontation. Honest, you should have seen it. We wound up throwing lots of China at each other. I thought that only happened on television."
"It's final then? You're not going to go back to him?" I asked.
"Well, the divorce is not legally Final yet, but yes, I've left Mark. He'll get over his angst and anger. He's pretty shallow. He'll be re-married in a year to one of his medical assistants. Someone a decade younger than I am," she grinned.
"Probably a redhead this time. You made quite an impression on him. He's going to be surprised when I move in with you.
"I guess that means I have to move into your place. I think. I have no place to go. Will you have me?"
I think that was an Annika-type proposal. I'll make my own more formal proposal later. And arrange a date to get us married with the Reverend Marge Lyda.
I think we'd both look cute in matching wedding dresses. Don't you? That'll be fun. Annika will have to do all the carrying over a threshold, though. That much Nordic beauty I'd never be able to carry.
Later. First I had to enjoy my next kiss. She still needs some work on her kissing. Might as well begin the next lesson now.
I guess this is the Best Spot after all.
ENDE