Coming Out: Part Two by Lily Jane ©2015 Lily Jane
A lot has happened since that day in Jan's office when my life got turned upside down. But before I get ahead of myself, I should tell you what happened, in the order that it all occurred.
After the crazed tongue-and-clit session on Jan's couch, I drifted down to the street, my mind spinning like a whirlpool, all of my thoughts out of control. In fact I was so dazed and confused that I started off going east instead of west, and was only with a real effort that I made it back to 57th to catch the crosstown bus.
Everything out the window of the bus was a total blur. I didn't recognize the city, and I could no longer recognize myself. I stared at my reflection in the window and asked myself how I felt. The answer was that I felt like a childÑa helpless child who knows nothing of the world, a kid who has no idea who she is.
Let me remind you, I'm twenty-one, and I had a lot of boyfriends in college, guys who thought I was "hot." But right now I felt like some kind of street waif who had fallen under the spell of an irresistible force. I had fallen head-over-heals in love (if you can call it that) with a breathtakingly beautiful, unbelievably worldly womanÑa woman who knew all the things I didn't know but was eager to learn.
I arrived back at our walkup in Hell's Kitchen (oh, how I hated that place!), not as a sexy young girl who made guys melt, but as a lost soul, unable to focus on anything, everything around me a blur.
Eric, who knew me pretty well, knew in an instant that something was out of whack. "Did you get it?" he, quite naturally, asked.
Believe it ot not, I had no idea what he was talking about. And he had to repeat what he said, this time adding, "The job."
"Oh," I said, in what must have sounded like a dreamy, faraway voice. "Oh yes...I got it...."
But Eric pressed me for more. He wanted to know why I wasn't excited, why I wasn't jumping up and down. So I had to think fast to come up with an answer.
I said, "I guess it just happened so fast." (And I was playing with the buttons on my dress when I said that. To a more perceptive person than Eric, that could have been a give-away). "She wants me to go to San Francisco with her tomorrowÑto see a new client."
"Oh fuck!" Eric said, kicking a kitchen cabinet. "We've got tickets for 'Iceage'! We're going with Shana and Eddie."
"Well, I'm going to San Fran," I said emphantically. "It's my chance to see California."
"You are so goddamned selfish!" he said. Then he walked away and got a beer out of the fridge. (That's all he could sayÑand it was me who was paying the rent while I worked on his so-called "career!")
We didn't talk that night. We watched a meaningless TV show in silence. And I got up at 6 the next morning and threw some stuff into a battered-up suitcase, one with stickers from Bali and Chiang Mai, where all good Aussies go during Spring Break. I was out the door and down the stairs before he woke up.
To say I was shaking would be an understatement. I'm not even sure, right now, what it was that I was wearing. But I think it was my little tan shift with bell sleeves and a zipper up the back. It was the shortest, most scandalous dress I owned. (Now why, do you suppose, I would choose that...?)
Jan was waiting for me at JFK, pacing around outside the Admirals Club, tapping her toes and staring at her (godawful expensive) watch. She looked like Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada." She was wearing a sort of Pucci print dress that was cut on the bias so it clung to every one of her curves, and instead of the red Louboutin's that I'd expected, she was in high heeled hemp mules (which made her look three inches taller than meÑand I'm five-eight. And which made me feel all the more like the ungainly child, the girl who knows nothing at all about the world. What the hell had happened to me????
Well, we shot back two glasses of single-barrel Bourbon in the lounge (Jan ordered them "neat"). Then we boarded the planeÑfirst class, of course, with adjoining seats and virtually the whole cabin to ourselves. A classy stewardess greeted Jan by name and served us Champagne before we had even settled into our seats. Then she explained that the luncheon special was horseradish encrusted fresh salmon, which she said "paired nicely" with a Chateau St. Jean Single Vineyard Chardonnay.
We were about 45 minutes into the flight when Jan asked her friend the stewardess for help with a blanket (she said she had "a chill"). The stewardess, who was very compliant, proceeded to spread the blanket over our legs and our thighs and tuck it neatly under our butts.
Since it takes something like five hours to get from JFK to SFO, and since I was obviously not going anywhere, Jan didn't have to a hurry. She started off by running her fingernails up my legs, starting way down at my calves and, painfully slowly, working her way higher. I think we were over Cleveland when she finally got her fingers up under my dress and inside my thong. Of course I was way past wet by then. So she had no trouble parting my lips, and squeezing and teasing them until I could hardly stand any more, before Ñwith a sudden, aggressive thrust that gave me a shockÑthrusting a finger right up my cunt!
At that point I let out a gasp that was unintentionally loudÑloud enough so that it caught the stewardess's attention. I saw her shoot a quick glance at her partner. They obviously knew. You'd have to be blind to not notice that something naughty was going on under the blanket.
You will recall that, at this point, I had been the recipient of all the sex. I had never seen Jan naked and I had never really touched her. Not until then, when she took my hand from my leg and shoved it up her dress, planting it right on her cunt. Unlike me, Jan had a soft, furry bush (Stupid me! I was, once again, out of style). Oh yes, and she had "forgotten" to wear panties.
So we diddled each other's clits all the way across the continent. I came somewhere over the Midwest (I wasn't really looking out the window, so I could be wrong), and Jan came more than once before we reached Denver. Each time she came, she let me sniff her fingerÑa little gesture that the classy stewardess didn't fail to catch. (But I guess she was well aware of Jan's pastimes: she was always bopping back and forth between the coasts).
It was still early in the afternoon when we got off the plane in San Francisco. Jan had a limo waiting at the airport and it took us straight to the Fairmont Hotel, up on a hill, and after floating through the sumptuous lobby, we went straight to our suiteÑa suite that was three times the size of the hovel that Eric and I occupied in NY. Though we had a spectacular view of the Bay, Jan pulled the curtains closed, and then we went straight to bedÑwhere we made love, in every imaginable position and in every imaginable way, for something like six hoursÑanyway, for so long that I was weak in the knees from coming.
I should tell you that Jan, for a woman of any age, has an incredible body: breasts like a twenty year old, a flat tummy, and the most beautiful, most elegant ass I have ever seen. I could spend all day just worshipping her body.
By the time the sex was over, I was a mess, and the elegant bed was a total disaster. We were both too weak to do anything, so Jan ordered dinnerÑnot, of course, asking me what I wanted (what would I know? I'm just a kid), but choosing a lot of things I had never heard of. I assumed they were odd parts of animals. And she ordered two bottles of French wine, with a bucket of ice.
Up until then, there was no mention of the photographer we were supposed to meet. And her name didn't come up until two days later, by which time I had been fucked silly and had almost forgotten my name (I always thought girls could come only once a week. It was Nature's design. But I found out, during the three days of my "captivity" in the hotel, that it was likely just one more of those myths that men made up).
Oh shit! I was going to tell you about the photographer (what a piece of work!), about our "little side trip" to Las Vegas with a couple of Jan's kinky friends, and about my meltdown with Eric. But I've already gone on too long and so I'll leave the juicy part till later.
Oh yes, and I have just finished "The Moonflower Diaries," my first eBook! (though I'm still tweaking it). I wrote virtually the whole thing in a suite at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills, overlooking the babes by the pool. And I blame Jan for everything I wrote. If you're not afraid of girl-on-girl sex, you can find it on Amazon books. (Since my folks are still "upstanding" citizens in BrisbaneÑ they never knew about the sex tapes and they will never think to check out Nifty.orgÑI published it under a pseudonym. I'm sure you would do the same.)
And again, if you feel inspired to write to me, you can find me at lilyjane21@telenova.us