The following is a sexually explicit story of a true lesbian encounter. If that offends you, or you are under 18, you should go elsewhere. If you enjoy it, I would love to hear from you. Please email me at Sarahsweet38@yahoo.com.
The First Night - Getting Ready and Out to Dinner
I quickly went through the things in my room. The business casual in my closet suddenly looked so boring to me. I grabbed a few skirts and blouses, two pairs of jeans, and my tennis dress, and packed some underwear and my two other swimsuits, my little bit of jewelry, sneakers and a few heels into a bag. I had a feeling I wouldn't be back here much this week. I started to grab for my work bag and laptop, and thought, stop kidding yourself. If I was going to get any work done, which seemed unlikely, it would be down here. I swept my toiletries into a smaller bag and threw that in the larger one. I grabbed the couple of shopping bags I had brought home this morning. I couldn't believe I had done that shopping just this morning. So much had changed since then. With my arms full, still dressed in my swimsuit and coverup, I shut off the lights, let the door swing shut behind me, and walked down the hall toward the elevators, eager to get back to Grace.
When I got to her room the door was already open a crack. I pushed it open and closed it behind me. I walked down the hallway with the things still in my arms. She was sitting at the mirror in the anteroom to the bathroom, with a soft white robe around her, putting on makeup.
She looked over her shoulder at my briefly. "There's a room down the end of the hallway that you can use. Put your things away in there, then come back here," she said, returning her eyes to what she was doing. I watched her and her mirrored reverse image for a moment, as she expertly brushed on mascara.
"Yes, Grace," I said.
I walked down the hallway, passing her bedroom on the right and a closed door on the left. I glanced in her room as I walked by, and saw a very large round white bed, with mounds of pillows and a seating area near the foot of the bed. The furniture and decorations were all beautiful. Dim recessed lighting gave the room a soft glow, centered on the white bed, except for the light that stabbed out into the room from what I guessed was a walk-in closet or second bathroom.
I got down to the room at the end of the hall, opened the door, and turned on a light. A warm glow filled the room, which was not large, but was nicely furnished and appointed. To the right side was a high queen-sized bed, also with a white bedspread and multiple pillows. The unusual headboard had a large brown leather pad over most of its surface, with a metal rod that ran around its perimeter, supported by rods at intervals disappearing behind the headboard. The foot of the bed had low metal posts, which ended below the level of the top of the mattress. The top of the posts had strong metal eyelets. There was a large mirror in the high ceiling above the bed, and a section of mirror slanted up from the wall part way up to the ceiling mirror.
There were two soft chairs on either side of a sturdy round table against the wall near the foot of the bed, to my left. I discovered that looking in the slanted mirror plane from the chairs near the foot of the bed provided a perfectly framed view of the bed from above. A flat tv screen was set into the wall above the table. Beyond that there was a dresser and a small walk-in closet before a private bathroom. Against the walls on either side of the bed was an additional soft and extra wide chair, facing toward the bed. It was a bedroom with seating for at least four!
I peeked my head in the bathroom. It was heavily marbled and mirrored, with a large rectangular shower behind two planes of clear glass in one corner, a sink and vanity with beautiful fixtures, and a separate small toilet room. A wide selection of makeup and beauty products in a tray on the vanity was the only sign that anyone else ever used the room.
I happily and quickly put my things away in the empty closet and drawers of the dresser, and put my toiletries bag in the bathroom by the sink. I stopped and looked at myself briefly in the mirror, and couldn't keep myself from smiling. I was so happy to be here, and so excited about whatever was around the next corner.
I walked back out into the hallway, down to the bathroom. She was still sitting at the vanity, looking like she was nearly done. She was an expert at makeup, and she again had the elegant expensive look she had when I'd met her, not the messed and horny look I got to see later. She pushed out another small chair from the vanity with her foot, and I sat facing her, in her field of view. I watched her face as she was putting on lip liner. It did not bother me that she was almost twenty years older than me; it did not matter, because she was lovely and was in fantastic shape, in addition to being sexy, charming and wonderful. I'd rather be with a fit fifty year old than a flabby twenty-something. By the same token, I had never thought much about older women and they did not feature in my fantasies. I certainly did not have any `mommy' complex. But still, sitting there watching Grace putting makeup on, I was reminded of being a little girl and watching my mom do it, and I felt maybe that was a little portion of my surprisingly strong feelings toward Grace.
She looked at me and one side of her mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "Spread you legs," she said. I let my legs spread apart, and slid forward, pushing against my bathing suit bottoms, my hands on the sides of the seat. She looked me up and down and smiled.
She told me to put my hand out, and I did. She picked up a small bottle of cream and put it in my hand. Then she picked up and placed in my hand a pearl-handled safety razor.
"Go to the shower in your room, Sarah. I want you to leave a little patch above your slit, that you may keep for now. I want all the hair below that gone. I want you to carefully shave the outside of your pussy lips and make them smooth. Then do your makeup and put on your tennis dress and come see me." She smiled and put a hand on my knee. "I don't like anyone else doing it there for me, so no one but you will do it for you." She looked in my eyes, stopped smiling, and said "but I may take that patch off you myself later. Wait here a moment."
She got up and walked out of the bathroom there while I sat in the chair, smelling the swirl of her intoxicating perfume, feeling my arousal start again; or surge again - I don't think it had stopped since we met. I sat there looking at the bottles, looking at myself in the mirror and the razor in my hand. I heard some music come on in the apartment, and some sounds from the kitchen, and then Grace reached in and placed a fairly large gin martini, with three olives, on the counter in front of me.
She said "drink this while it's cold. Now go", and she walked out again.
It was not usually, or maybe ever, my drink, but that didn't matter. I picked up the glass, which was icy-cold, and sipped the crisp, clear, lightly scented liquid, which blazed a hot trail down to my stomach that seemed to radiate into my body from there. I am not used to nearly straight liquor. The heat felt nice as I had remained in my bathing suit since our bath, and the idea of a hot shower suddenly sounded good. Picking up my drink in one hand, and the razor and cream in the other, I got up and walked back down the hall to my room. I overheard Grace discussing what sounded like business on the phone in the kitchen as I went.
I went into the bathroom in my room and turned all the lights on - it was quite bright - and started the shower running. There were a number of shower heads and handles, and I saw nozzles in the two walls. For now, I just turned what appeared to be the main faucets, and a stream of water from above came down. I let the hot water run as I shut the door and went back over to the mirror. I lifted the martini and sipped, and ate an olive. It was going down easier now, and was actually quite good. I looked at myself in the mirror, in a different way than before, wondering, am I attractive to other women? I thought, yeah, in a bathing suit, maybe, but the conservative clothes I usually wear don't give the impression that I am interested in anything like that. Maybe that would be something I would have to change. After another sip, I put down the glass and took off my coverup and bathing suit, placing them in a small covered hamper in the bathroom. I looked at myself, naked, in the mirror as I sipped my drink and ate the remaining olives. I thought my body looked good and slim, the pink nipples of my small but firm breasts bright against my pale skin, which was lightly freckled on my cheeks and arms. My shoulders and long legs reflected all my work in the pool and on the court, and my stomach was flat with a tight abdominal muscle. I felt a little buzzed and very alert, and traced the fingers of one hand through my pubic patch, feeling with my finger down lower, the little hairs on either side of my pussy, down in between my legs, as the mirror started to cloud with steam. My fingers brushed those little hairs forward and back, and I sensed them like I never had before, then I pressed my fingers together, squeezing my small lips out between them. I looked down and watched my fingers rubbing my pussy, and remembered seeing Grace finger her cunt above me and rubbing my face in her slit, and I could feel myself becoming excited and wet again. I was tempted to start rubbing my clit, but thought I should save my orgasms for Grace.
I swallowed down the last of my martini, grabbed the cream and razor, and went into the shower. I wet my body, trying to keep my already-washed hair out of the water. A small bench stuck out of the wall on one side of the shower, out of the spray, and I sat on it. I spread my legs and looked down as I made a line with the cream about an inch above the top of my slit, then I rubbed the cream, which turned foamy, down and along both sides of my slit, down onto the lips between my legs. Slowly, using downward strokes, I shaved away the hair above my slit, and then shaving outward from the center, carefully shaved my lips, and the fine hairs on my inner upper thighs. It took a little while, but I got better as I went, and when I was done I stepped into the water and rinsed off. As I ran my hand between my legs I loved how smooth and slippery I felt. I looked down and thought my patch now looked too wide and big, so I returned to the bench and shaped it into a small narrow rectangle, and shaved away any hair on my lower stomach.
I turned off the shower and stepped out and dried myself with a plush towel that had been hanging there. I rubbed my hand on the mirror to clear it, and stepped close to it and opened my towel to look at my work. I thought my little blond rectangle looked cool. Seeing my bare slit so clearly in the mirror was a turn-on. I thought it looked, and felt, so sexy. I wondered why I had never done it before.
Wrapped in my towel, I quickly put on the little bit of makeup that I typically wear, a little perfume, and brushed my blonde hair straight back and down, and let it fall. I went to my underwear drawer, and then remembered with a tingle that I was to wear no panties. I assumed that meant I should wear no bra, either. I picked out a pair of short white socks and threw them on the bed, then went to the closet and pulled out my blue with white trim tennis dress and Nikes. I dropped my towel, and put on the tennis dress. It really was about the shortest thing I owned, coming only about two inches below my crotch. I felt so exposed, and couldn't believe I was going out like this. I sat on the bed and put on the short socks and my sneakers. If someone had been seated in front of me, it would have been impossible to do so without giving them quite a show. I told myself, just sit with your legs together, and no one will see a thing. I stood up and checked myself in the mirror. Although my lack of panties wasn't obvious, I could tell that I was braless when my breasts moved against the fabric of the dress. As I put on my bracelets and a small pair of dangly earrings, I certainly felt sexier than I usually did when preparing for tennis.
I left my room and walked back down the hallway. I heard Grace's voice and followed it to the kitchen. She was dressed in black slacks and a black vest, over a beautiful deep red long-sleeve blouse, with short black heels. She was wearing all-silver jewelry, and her hair was again tightly pulled back. She looked very sharp, very sexy, and was wearing a different amazing perfume. Something spicier. She was again, or still, on the phone with someone talking about real estate deals, and sipping a martini. She had some strong words for someone and then hung up. You got the feeling that whomever she had been talking to would be calling back later to say "okay, Grace, you win."
She turned to look at me, and held her hand up and out, pointing her finger down, moving it in a circle, in the universal symbol for `turn around and let me look at you.' I turned around as she looked me up and down. "The dress is fine, Sarah. Follow me," she said.
I walked behind her back down the hallway to the bathroom, and she went in and stood at the vanity. I moved closer to her and she handed me her drink. "Drink some," she said. I sipped the martini as she deftly looked through makeup selections. She picked out some blue eyeliner, lip liner, blush, mascara and eyeliner, and told me to stand in front of her. I stood close to her, face to face, as she applied makeup to mine. This and sharing her drink were two new intimacies I was sharing with her, just in the last few minutes. I enjoyed the thought that she seemed to plan out each of our little encounters, and I was eager to follow her direction as well as I could. I looked into her eyes and fought back the urge to kiss her as she concentrated on what she was doing. After a while she said "that's better", and put down the blush brush. "Wait here." She walked out and I turned and looked at my face in the mirror. My makeup was very well done, and different for me. It looked... not garish, but more colorful. My cheeks were a bit redder, the blue eyeshade brought out the blue of my eyes, and the heavy mascara and eyeliner made me look a little wild. The lip liner made my lips look fuller, sexier. I didn't look like a hooker or anything - but I did look like someone's hot date. She appeared at the door and handed me an expensive-looking pair of white heels that had thin straps which went up and around the calf. "Trade your sneakers and socks for these," she said. She picked up her drink and walked back out toward the living room, her confident stride clip-clopping on the wood floor.
I went to my room and put on the heels, buckling the little straps. Looking in the full length mirror in my room, seeing myself in the short dress, daring makeup and sexy shoes, I did look different than I ever had before, and I liked it. I felt so exposed with no panties over my newly shaved lips, just inches from the hem of my dress. I lifted and one knee and could see that my slit easily came into view. I straightened up, smoothed down my dress, pulled down on its hem, grabbed a small purse that I had prepared and walked back out toward the living room. She was standing by the coffee table, apparently ready to go. She looked at me, smiled and said "you look good enough to fucking eat." She picked up a small jar from the coffee table and unscrewed the cap on it, put her fingers into it, then put the jar down on the table. She stepped in very close to me, until we were as close as could be without touching. I felt her hand brush the inside of my thighs under my dress, and then her fingers were at my slit, spreading whatever the cream or lube was onto my lips and inside of me. She slid one finger deep inside of me, and pulled it out and slid it back in a few times. We breathed each others' breath but did not kiss. Then she withdrew her hand and went to the sink to wash. My pussy felt wet and open, and barely hidden from the world at large. I stood there waiting for us to walk out into the night.
She dried her hands and grabbed a wallet off the counter, which she put in a front pocket of her slacks, said "let's go", and touched a switch near the front door that turned out all the lights. I followed behind her. She opened the door and held it open for me as I passed through, then she turned and locked the door behind us. Then she began walking down the hall of the hotel toward the lobby, and I fell in behind her, flanking her to one side. We rode down the elevator, and I followed Grace out to the left toward the lobby.
When our heels left the carpet and hit the marble of the lobby, heads turned. A desk clerk whom I had seen when I checked in said "good evening, Grace." A bit of surprise flashed in his eyes when he saw me, but then his training kicked in, he nodded courteously and said, "Ms. Palm." Walking in front of me, Grace turned her head around to look at me and smiled. She had just learned my last name. A younger male clerk behind the desk and a bellman were trying not to stare at the two of us, and seemed particularly interested in my legs. An elderly doorman was already holding out a set of keys. "Thank you, Stanley," Grace said, as she took the keys, patted him on the arm, and, I think, winked at him. He did nothing else but smile and stare at her, brought for a just a moment under her spell. Then his eyes shifted to my face, and boldly trailed down my body to my feet, in a way old guys can get away with. It was okay. I was enjoying the attention.
We walked past him and out into the dusky evening. A large cream-colored Mercedes convertible, with the top down, waits in front of the doors. Its interior was leather, walnut, chrome and electronics. I watched Grace walk around to the driver's side, and when she opened her door, I opened mine and got in. The seats were soft dark leather, still warm against my bare legs, from the sun that was had been on them a little while ago. I fastened my seatbelt, stretched out my legs, and turned to watch Grace, as the engine came to life with a soft but powerful purr. She deftly and easily moved us into traffic with a squeak of the tires.
I watched the lights, trees and buildings pass above us while we rolled down a major boulevard, as the warm breeze caressed us. I felt alive and excited and free, happy to let make Grace make the decisions for us. I sensed a lingering wetness between my legs from the cream that Grace applied, and it made me very aware of my pussy, and I felt like I was sizzling with sexual energy. I unconsciously rocked my legs a little, open and closed, open and closed, pressing my thighs together, enjoying the pressure changes between my legs.
"Horny, Sarah?" I looked at Grace and she was glancing back and forth between the road and my legs, suddenly making me aware that I had been rocking them.
"Yes, Grace," I said, opening my legs a little further. "I've been horny since the moment I met you."
She reached across, rubbed her right palm on the top of my thigh, her fingers trailing on the inside, and smiles. "That's my girl." I turned my thigh out, toward her touch, but she only traced a finger lightly along the inside, then put her hand back on the steering wheel.
We drove on, in the warm nightfall, heading through a less busy area. She invisibly found some music on the radio using finger controls. She reached into the console between us and pulled out a film vial. With her two hands close together on the wheel, she opened it and pulled out what was clearly, by its sight and smell, a half-joint. Even unlit in an open car, I could detect its pungent odor.
I was surprised by this, as she put it in her mouth and her hand retrieved a lighter. I never had much experience with pot, and its main connection to my life today was the fear that my son might try it. From knowing people who smoked, I did have the impression that it was pretty harmless, if a bit de-energizing. It just didn't seem to fit with my image of a successful businesswoman. On the other hand, I thought, she was obviously a bit on the wild side, and was a child of the late 60's - early 70's. I smiled, thinking of her as a young hippy with flowers in her hair. I am sure she would have been stunning.
She saw me looking at her with concern or doubt, and laughed. "Don't worry," she said. "I only use a little bit. It makes dinner taste better. In fact, it makes everything taste better," she said with a smile and a leer at my legs. "I promise to not crash." I laughed.
She took a few hits, then passed it to me. I took a little hit, coughed, and took another little hit, and handed it back to her. She drew deeply and blew a big cloud up into the stream of air passing above us. After another mini-hit by me, she pinched it out in an ashtray, put it back in its vial and dropped it in the console. We rode on, the night still warm. My few college experiences with pot told me that this was some strong stuff. I enjoyed the sensation of floating along this road. My mouth felt dry, my tongue thick. I looked at my long thighs, and thought again about my bare pussy, just beyond the hem of my tennis dress. I still had a wet and slick sensation there - the cream must have been part oil, or something like it. I turned on the wide comfortable seat and watched Grace drive. I thought: I can't wait to be with her again; no, I'll say what I meant - I couldn't wait to be naked with her again, to spread my legs for her, to take her nipple in my mouth and press my face against her sweet cunt, and yes, to cuddle with her, too. I looked at her and felt, if not yet love, adoration. For the first time I considered what it would be like if this was my regular life, and I quickly put the thought aside. It's a nice fantasy. Besides, I actually do love my real life, my two guys. I think it was at that moment when I started thinking that maybe I could have this life too - at least sometimes.
I don't want to bore readers with our chat, but we were never riding in silence. Grace talked about her amazing recent trip to New Zealand, the real estate market, the idiot in a passing pickup, the stupidity of Muslim extremism, the Atlanta club scene, the last good movie she saw, the problem with politics, some of her friends, etcetera. She asked my opinion on things, and I answered. She was full of insights and observations, and a surprising level of knowledge about many subjects. Her talk was animated, punctuated with hand gestures and facial expressions. She was frequently funny, sometimes imitating others. I loved listening to her.
She slowed down and pulled over to a curb on the right. I wondered if we were getting out, but she just pushed to make the roof rise up out of the back and stretch to the top of the windshield. She turned the inside lights on and reached up to flick the levers that lock it down. She turned to me and said "let me see". I pulled my left knee up on the seat beside me, and turned toward her a little, until I was sure she could see my pussy. She looks down between my legs and says "I said LET ME SEE. Turn toward me and put your feet on the seat, with your knees up."
"Yes, Grace," I whispered. I turned on the seat, my back to the door, lifted my knees to my chest and let them spread slightly apart, giving her a view obstructed only by the dim lighting inside her car. "Oh my," she says, "that looks very nice. What a sexy little slit. Do you like it, Sarah?"
"Yes, Grace. I love how it feels." I let my knees fall wider apart, and looked at her face and ran my fingers of my right hand along one thigh as she gazed at my bare cunt and licked her lips and bit her lower lip.
"Good," she said. "Now let's really get something to eat. I'm starving." With a flash of her teeth and a laugh, she put the car back in gear, and accelerated back onto the road. I turned back forward and tugged once more at my tennis dress, my pussy again tingling and moist.
We drove another mile or two down the road and she turned into the valet parking area of a modern and expensive-looking restaurant. The doors were opened on both sides by uniformed valets, who each offered a hand. I could hardly believe how much of my own legs I saw as I stepped out of the car into the light. Neither could the valet, apparently, and I felt eyes on me again as I waited for Grace to come around the car. The bright scene seemed surreal, the colors glowing, my senses very alive. The smell of the food was wonderful and Grace looked beautiful. I thought that I look beautiful. It was partially the pot, but it was more than that. I watched her walk by in front of me, then I fell in behind her, and followed her into the restaurant.
A Maitre d' awaited us, menus in one arm. Grace whispered to him and passed him a few bills. He led us to a table for two, near the middle of the restaurant. Other deuces were in this section of the large room. There were u-shaped leather booths and tables around the side, and another room beyond with larger tables. Grace took the seat on far side, facing the entrance, and motioned to me to take the other seat. The chair was slim, with a white leather cushion at the seat and back, and thin graceful armrests. The modern-style restaurant was elegantly and simply appointed, in white, chrome and glass, with small white tablecloths and splashes of colorful art as decoration. At this early evening hour, the restaurant was only half full, and humming with well-dressed arrivals. There was no one at the tables around ours, but there were scattered diners at other tables and in some of the booths.
I sat down, careful to keep my legs tight together, and put my purse on the table. Grace sat down and looked around and then smiled and stared at me, without looking away at all. I tried to meet her eyes, and became embarrassed under her gaze, glanced away and around at the other people in the room behind her. A very cute Asian waitress approached and Grace ordered two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon. The waitress raised an eyebrow at me and I smiled and nodded. She returned a very friendly smile. She told us the chef's specials and turned and walked away. I noticed she had a cute little ass in those black slacks, and realized it was not the kind of thought I would have had just yesterday. It made me think about my restrained feelings toward women over the years.
The white tablecloth came down to the top of my legs, but no further. It provided some additional cover. I looked at Grace and she was still looking at me. She seemed to be examining my throat, and I probably blushed. She smiled.
"So tell me Sarah, has this been your first encounter with another woman? I ask because it seemed to be so, in a way, and yet, you acted like you had no doubt. I mean, honey" and she bit the tip of her tongue with a smile and said a little louder than she needed to, "you really fucking loved it."
She seemed so perceptive to me, nearly psychic. I had just been thinking along those lines.
"Well, not really..."
She interrupted. "What do you mean not really. Have you or have you not?"
I looked at her for a minute and that night in college with Kimberly came rushing back to me. It had been a familiar memory over the years. It wasn't even a night, it was more like . . . a few minutes. How could it have become such a strong memory?
"I have never done with another woman the kinds of things you and I did today, Grace. Not even close. One night when I was in college, I went out with a friend of mine. We went to a bunch of fraternity parties, so we'd been drinking, and guys had been hitting on us all night, which probably made us a little horny."
"You don't have to make excuses for your feelings," she said. "Go on."
I looked at her and wondered if that's what I had been doing ever since it happened. "Well, we went back to her dorm room to hang out for awhile. We were laughing hard, and making fun of some of the guys we had seen at the frats. She was mocking this guy who had to hug every nice-looking girl that walked into the house and she put her arms around me. I think we both froze for a second, and then we kissed."
"Who kissed whom?"
"I think it was mutual."
"Bull. Someone had to initiate it."
I thought about it, tried to remember it in more detail. I remember seeing her face so close when she hugged me, her straight dark hair, thinking how pretty she was, how good she smelled. "I think I kissed her first," I said.
"Yes, you probably did. Go on."
"Well, really there is not much more to tell. We kissed for a little bit, our mouths started opening, our bodies pressed against each others', my hands were moving down her back, and then we - no, she - broke away." I saw it clearer than I had before. She had pulled her face back and smiled at me, but her hands at my stomach were gently pushing me away. "We never did anything else. We acted like it never happened."
"You didn't want to stop, did you, Sarah?"
"No."
"If she hadn't stopped you, you would have started pulling her clothes off, wouldn't you have?"
"Yes, Grace."
"You wanted to see her pussy, to touch it, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did." I nodded as I remembered how I quickly became so excited that night. "I did want to." I was feeling a little red in the face. Grace was just smiling at me, with a playful smile.
The waitress brought our wine. We ordered appetizers and dinner, and she left. I sipped my wine, looked around at the other diners. I notice a few men who seemed to be stealing glances at us. I relaxed in my chair a bit, letting my legs straighten along one side of the table.
"Why didn't you ever push her again?"
"I guess I felt she was right. I thought having gay feelings was `wrong'. I had a boyfriend, too at the time, so. . ."
"So what. Have you had sexual thoughts about women frequently since then?"
"Not consciously, but it's been in the back of my mind."
"Repressed?"
"Yes, I guess you could say that. I believed people were basically either one, or the other. I had thought of lesbians as men-haters. Admittedly, I haven't known many. I always enjoyed the company of men, so I decided to stick with the path I had chosen."
She laughed. "We don't all hate men, honey, although there are those types. Some of us just prefer sex with someone soft and pretty, who is not in too much of a hurry." She said it like it was common sense.
"I knew the feelings were there, though. I'd occasionally catch myself staring at a girl on a beach or in a club; I enjoyed watching porn with my husband so I could see the women."
"You must have seen other opportunities in college. You never pursued them?"
"No. I think my feelings that night kind of scared me. I avoided that temptation."
"And yet, here you are." She smiled.
"Yes."
"Hmmm. A very serious case," she said in a convincing German accent. "I sink you need extensive analysis."
I looked at her with some concern, I guess, because she laughed and said "oh, baby, I'm just kidding. You are so sweet. The truth is, you can do whatever you want in life that makes you happy. It's different for everybody. The rules that some people insist upon just don't work for all of us. Your feelings are not unusual, and it's not healthy to deny them forever. At least you've found the courage to finally act upon what they've been telling you."
"Thank you, Grace." I wanted to lean across the table and kiss her.
The waitress came with appetizers - shrimp cocktail for me, clams on the half-shell for Grace. She said to the waitress "more wine, please, darling," and the waitress disappeared. I took a few sips, trying to catch up with Grace.
"So," she asked, "what about before that? Any incidents? Inklings?"
"No, not really."
"Were you a swimmer in high school, Sarah?"
The question surprised me. I did not remember telling her that I had been. I swam in college for two years, too. "Yes, I was. How. . .?
"I think many girls who are, shall we say, highly sexed but shy about it, especially lesbian-leaning girls, join swim teams. It gives them a chance to look at others with very little on, and more so, gives them a chance to show their own bodies. Many young women would not be comfortable walking around dressed like that in the open - at least not when we were younger." I had the feeling she must have been a swimmer too.
I remembered some of the girls on my teams. The smell of chlorine, the sore muscles, the tight suits, bus rides, team spirit. Yeah, the tight suits. Being in a swimsuit has always been a turn-on for me. That had probably made me more receptive to Grace's advances when I met her. "Yes. Even then I liked looking at girls' bodies. I liked being close to them."
"But you were uncomfortable in the locker room."
"Yes."
"Because you were afraid they might see you looking at them when they were naked, in a way that you shouldn't."
"Yes, Grace. You're right."
"But you peeked anyway."
"Yes." We both smiled.
"You had good parents, but they were very religious, and believed homosexuality was a sin. So you thought so to."
"Yes."
"And when I came on to you, you thought what the hell, now or never?"
"Something like that." I had to add something ". . . it wasn't just that, it was you. I wanted you - I wanted to be with you."
The waitress brought our new wine glasses, and took away the old glasses. Grace just looked at me while she did. "It was my lucky day," she said with a smile, and sipped her wine. It seemed she hadn't looked anywhere since we got there, except right at me. We worked on our appetizers.
"So what is it you want out of all this, Sarah?"
I thought for a moment, thinking I should have a clear answer. "I want to explore my lesbian feelings and my sexuality, I want to put myself in someone else's hands for awhile, and I want to have fun."
She pushed her plate to the side, put her elbows on the table and joined her hands under her chin and smiled. "Then you've come definitely come to
the right place. We are going to have lots of fun."
The waitress brought over our meals, and removed the appetizer dishes. Grace had lamb and I had fish. The food was excellent.
"People are looking at you, you know", she said after awhile.
I glanced around a bit, and it did seem that I caught some eyes.
"Anyone interesting behind me?"
I looked past her, off to the left and right beyond her shoulders. "There's a nice looking young couple at one table, an older couple at another." Grace casually looked around behind her.
"The man in the young couple is facing toward us. This is perfect." She had a devilish grin. I waited in silence while the waitress took our plates and Grace ordered two coffees.
"Sarah, keep glancing at him until you catch his eye. Once you do, smile and keep looking at him." I looked past Grace's left shoulder, and watched him talking to his date. He was quite good-looking; mid-twenties, dark and Italian looking, with an athletic build. About twenty-five feet away. "Don't stare at him. Look at me too, and glance over, like you're stealing peeks at him. Tell me when he notices."
I was enjoying her little game, her specific directions, though I was a little nervous about where this might go. I looked at her pretty face, and then looked over at him, then back at her. I sipped my wine, and continued switching my gaze. Then, on one glance, I saw him looking at me. I looked him in the eyes and smiled, then turned my eyes back to Grace. I stole a quick glance at him and he was again looking at me. He started peeking at me, while trying to not let his girlfriend notice.
Our coffee arrived. As I was fixing mine, I said to Grace "he's looking at me."
"Of course he is. How could he not?" She smiled seductively. "Be daring, Sarah. The next time he looks at you, lip your lips with the tip of your tongue. Be obvious."
I looked over at him. When he glanced at me, I bit my bottom lip, ran the tip of my tongue over my top lip. He looked like he might fall off his chair. I smiled at him, and still looking at him, said to Grace, "he's definitely noticing."
"Move your knees to the right side of the table pillar. Cross your legs at the ankles, and knees together, extend your legs into the aisle, directly toward him, on that side."
I straightened up in my chair, pulling my toes back under me. I shifted my knees to the right, hooked one foot behind the other and stretched my legs out in front of me as she told me to, carefully keeping my knees pressed together. Innocently adjusting in my chair, I looked down and smoothed the edge of my dress down. I slowly lifted my eyes to look right at him, and I could see that my long legs, with their white straps, had his attention. I smiled and looked at Grace.
She was staring in my eyes. "He saw that, didn't he?"
"Yes. He did." I was dry-throated, and again felt my body start its sexual response.
The waitress came and topped our coffee. Grace asked for a shot of bourbon. I indicated I wanted nothing, and she walked away.
She leaned over the table toward me, I did the same, and our faces were close together. The desire to kiss her returned, but I didn't want to mess up any makeup - unless she wanted me to.
"Anyone else in the line of sight? We don't want to horrify any ten-year olds or old people." She laughed, and looked at me a little playful-mean. Like she enjoyed toying with me. I shook my head no. I felt a little nervous, as it was clear now where this was going.
Naturally, she saw that on my face, or read my thoughts. She said "don't think about it as letting him look at you - think of it as you using your sexual power over him." I closed my eyes for a moment, and at least thought about thinking that way. I was excited and a little embarrassed. I opened my eyes and looked at her.
"OK, Grace."
"Keep looking at me. Rock your thighs together a little. Like you did in the car, but just a little bit, a few inches."
I did as she told me, looking in her eyes, feeling the pressure in my crotch, the slight movement of the my still-moist pussy lips. I looked over at my target. He was trying to pay attention to his girlfriend, but was obviously distracted by what I was doing.
"Catch him looking. He'll be embarrassed."
I froze my legs for a second and stared at him. His eyes moved up to meet mine. He may have blushed if I could have seen it, and he returned his attention to his girlfriend.
"Now when he looks at you again, give him a warm smile."
I watched him until he looked back at me, and grinned at him, and renewed rocking my legs. He looked a bit surprised, and then, a little uncomfortable, trying to not look at my legs. At that moment, I did feel that I was using a power over him.
I looked at Grace. "He is very interested."
"Well show him," she said. "Pull your feet back and put them on the floor, so they are right under your knees. Then look at him, and let your knees spread a little, until you see him react to what he's seeing."
I pulled my feet back, and putting my hands on the arms of the chair, straightened up, pressing my rear back into the chair. I looked at him until I saw him look at me, and I moved my feet slightly apart. Then I let my legs relax, and my knees spread apart about four inches. I watched him glance at me again, and then quickly look back. He looked -- stunned. He could obviously see my pussy. I smiled at him, and turned my eyes back to Grace, leaving my legs where they were.
"Is he looking at your cunt?"
"Yes, Grace."
"How does it make you feel?"
"I feel excited, Grace. I'm horny."
"You feel your pussy producing wetness, honey? Do you feel your lips opening?"
"Yes, Grace. I do."
"Mmmmm," she said. "I can't wait to get back at that little slit of yours." I looked in her eyes. I couldn't wait either. I looked over at the guy. He kept looking at me, not believing what he was seeing. It looked to me like he had an erection. I wondered for a moment whether his girlfriend had turned around to look while I wasn't paying attention, but I didn't really care.
The waitress brought her shot, and the check. Grace dropped a card on it without looking at. I didn't move. The waitress walked away with the bill and card. Grace took a sip from the shot glass. "Are you ready to go have some fun?"
"You mean, back at your - ?"
"No, baby, not yet. We're going to a few hot spots first."
"Yes," I said. "I'm ready, Grace."
"Then here's what I want you to do. The next time he looks at you, if it's safe, spread your legs wide for him, flash it at him real quick. Touch yourself, if you dare. Then get up, and we'll leave."
I watched him looking at me as often as he dared. I put my hand high on my thigh and glanced around. No one else was really paying attention. I looked right at him, spread my legs apart, and drew the two long fingers of my right hand up either side of my slit. He was staring. I smiled at him, put my knees together, and looked away as his girlfriend turned to see what he was looking at.
I took a last sip of my coffee and stood, grabbing my purse. Grace stood, and turned toward the couple as she grabbed her things. It looked like he was trying to explain himself to his date. Grace waved to him, and then headed for the door. I smiled at him again, and then followed her out.
I thought the night was already pretty wild, but Grace was just getting started.