The following morning I still felt rather weary, rousing only to drink the cup of tea Phil brought up before he went out. I heard his car start up and then dozed off again.
“Mummy! Mummy!”
“Huh? What's the matter?”
“It's nearly ten o'clock. Mrs. Matthews has arrived- she's cleaning up downstairs.”
I opened my eyes and there was my daughter standing beside the bed, looking down at me, wearing only a pair of pyjama trousers, her young, apple-firm little breasts tilted pertly upwards, the spreading nipples looking very tender and sensitive.
“Jane-you shouldn't go about the house like that; go and get something on.”
“What's wrong? There's nobody here to see me-I had the jacket on when I let Mrs. Matthews in.”
“We'll go and get dressed now.”
Her face dropped.
“I was hoping for a little snuggle in bed with you, first. I go back to school next week, don't forget, mummy.” She put on her most pathetic look.
“Oh, all…” then I almost squeaked as I realised I had nothing on under the bedclothes. “No, wait-fetch me a cup of tea first…”
It was too late. She had already pulled back the covers and I saw her eyes widen as she looked at my naked body. I pulled my knees up and crossed my hands over my breasts. She giggled.
“Mummy-you're all bare! What have you been up to?” She dived in beside me.
I flushed hotly at her words.
“I–I took my nightie off when you father went out- it was very warm.”
“If it was that shortie nightie I saw lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, I shouldn't have thought it would make any difference!”
She was a discerning little minx! But I was quite sure she meant it innocently, although that still didn't save my blushes.
“Mmm, lovely!” She wriggled up close until my bent knees pressed into her tummy. She put one arm under my shoulder and pulled the covers over us with her free hand. “Do you have to lie all doubled up like that, with those hard knees poking into my tummy?” I straightened my legs just a little.
“And why are you holding your titties? I let you see mine! Oh, come on, mummy-let's snuggle up all nice and cosy, like we used to.”
What could I say to her? I straightened my legs right out and dropped my hands from my breasts.
“Aah-that's much better.” Both arms went round me, then, and she pressed real close until those firm, sprouting breasts of hers poked into my large, mature globes. “Mmm! Those lovely titties!” She wriggled her own against them. “So big and warm and sort of elasticity!” She hugged me tightly and kissed the side of my neck. “I am lucky to have such a gorgeous mother!”
She squirmed some more and threw one leg over my thigh. I held my arms around her slim waist, lightly.
“It's nice of you to say so, Jane, but you shouldn't keep talking about titties the way you do.”
“Why-what's wrong with titties?”
“Oh, nothing, I suppose, but you're a big girl now…”
“What should I call them, then? Breasts? Should I say 'I think your breasts are very beautiful, mother'? Or 'What lovely big tits you ha…' ouch!”
I lowered one hand and gave her a sharp smack on the upper cheek of her jutting bottom.
“And the next time I shall take your pants down to do it!
“Oooh, fab!” she breathed and the next moment she had thrown back the bedclothes and pulled her pyjama trousers right down and off, throwing them to the end of the bed. Then she rolled on to her tummy and lifted her bottom. “Go on, then, mummy-smack it bare, like you used to when I was small!”
I looked down at her white, upthrust bottom and was sorely tempted.
“You're being silly, now. But I don't want to hear you talk like that again, remember?”
“I might if you spanked me.” She wriggled her behind at me. “Go on-smack my bare arse…ouch!”
She yelped again as I gave her another, even harder, slap on her bare cheeks. Then I pulled the clothes back over us again.
“And I don't want to hear that sort of language, either. Where do you pick it up-in those horrible coffee bars-From the Mocks and Rodders, or whatever they call themselves?”
“You mean Mods and Rockers. No, mummy, of course not — I'm not interested in those filthy little beasts; I like to go with Susan and Lucy (neighbours' daughters)-the music sends us, that's all.”
I was relieved to hear her say so and was pretty certain she was speaking the truth.
“All right. Well, come on then, if you want a snuggle — I must get up soon.”
She came into my arms, pressing close again; I felt sparse, silky hairs brush my thighs as she threw a leg over mine. We cuddled and I stroked her back and gently patted her bottom. She kissed me.
“Mmm, love you, mummy,” she murmured, her lips nuzzling first my neck, then my face, my forehead, eyes, nose, chin, and finally, mouth.
She held her mouth on mine for a considerable length of time, until I pulled my head back, gasping.
“Hey-you'll smother me!” I pushed the clothes back. “Come on, now, my pet-we must get up. You've had your little cuddle.”
“All right, mummy, if you say so,” she said reluctantly. “One more hug, then I'll let you get up.”
“Oh, very well, then.”
She raised herself and rested a hand on either side of my shoulders as I turned on to my back, preparatory to sitting up. Then she lowered herself on top of me, pressing me down, her hands sliding under my back. I received a hefty bear-hug, taking the full weight of her body, my breasts flattening under hers. She looked up into my face.
“And a kiss?”
I nodded. Her mouth clamped down hard, almost bruising my astonished lips. She squirmed on top of me and I actually felt her nipples harden against my breasts. Without conscious thought, my arms went round her, pressing her closer to me; my mouth opened under her ardent pressure and I heard her murmur of delight as her tongue nicked across my lips. My mouth opened wider as I felt my own nipples stirring into awareness.
Then I came to my senses. I was this girl's own mother! I pushed her off and sat up, covering my breasts with my hands.
“Jane! What did you think you were doing?” I whispered.
“Loving you! And, mummy-it was wonderful!”
“You mustn't ever do that again; it's wrong-it… it's…”
“Why is it wrong, mummy?” She looked at me all wide-eyed and innocent and I guessed she hadn't realised what she was doing. “How can anything as wonderful as that be wrong?”
“The-the way you did it! It-it seemed as though you had done it before…” I stopped, trying to find the right words. “As though you'd had experience in — in…” I couldn't find of an adequate way to phrase what I had in mind.”
“In what, mummy? How could I have experience-I only have one mother! I have cuddled you before, of course.”
“Not in that way, you haven't!”
“I must admit it did have something special about it this time, although I did it the same way as I always have-well, to start with, anyway.”
“I think you must have got lost en route!”
“'Well, tell me what was wrong?” I realised I was saying too much; these were probably the first stirring of her sex instincts and when she had become excited during our cuddle, she had pursued it, wishing to prolong the pleasurable sensations, without knowing the basic cause of them.
“Nothing wrong, darling-you nearly squashed me, that's all; I hadn't expected such a colossal bear-hug! I keep forgetting I have such a big daughter, now-forget it.”
I got up and started to dress; nothing more was said on the subject, but she looked rather thoughtful as she went into her own room.
I had a pretty tight schedule that day. Stella and I were going into town and she was to pick me up at seven. I wanted to buy a coat and she had some odds and ends to pick up, then we were going to have lunch. I was hoping she wouldn't lead me into doing anything too extravagant; while Phil gave me a more than adequate allowance, Stella could be described as of “independent means”-with a prefix “considerable”! My idea of a moderately-priced coat would not necessarily be hers.
Stella arrived as Mrs. Matthews was making coffee, which gave me a chance to put the finishing touches to my make-up while she drank a cup. Jane was still hanging about as we were about to leave.
“What are you up to today, Jane-didn't you say you were going swimming, or something?”
“I was going with Lucy, but she's-well, you know-the usual curse. So instead, Sue and I are going to her place for lunch. We'll probably play records all afternoon-I'll be home about seven, I should think.”
“Well, that'll make a change!”
“We could drop her off if she's ready,” offered Stella.
“I'm ready-I was ready ages ago, to go swimming, until Lucy phoned. It's annoying-I've only been for a swim twice since I've been home and there's only about ten days left of the holidays.”
“Sorry, darling; your father's been too busy these past few months, or we would have taken you away for a couple of weeks. Still-we'll make it up.”
We dropped Jane off and then drove on into town.
“You know, you could have taken her somewhere yourself, Rita — a girl of her age needs a complete change of atmosphere during holiday time, apart from her home, especially when she'll be swotting for exams pretty soon.”
“I know-I feel rather guilty about it, too. I had intended taking her somewhere, but one thing led to another and I kept putting it off. I really will make it up to her, though.”
We went into town and I got my coat-only a few pounds more than I had intended spending on one! Stella bought shoes and some underthings and then we went to lunch at Wheelers.
We sat back and lit cigarettes. Stella waited until the waiter had topped up our glasses with the Louis St. George, then leaned forward.
“You know-I have a friend…”
“Oh?”
“An old friend, who…”
“Intimate
friend, Stella?” I gave her a sideways glance.
She coloured slightly, then smiled.
“Well-er-as a matter of fact-yes. That's all in the past, now, of course. I still see her occasionally, but it must be a couple of years since we went to bed together.”
“Was she as nice as me in bed?”
“Sshh!” Stella looked round at the other tables. “Someone will hear you-the women who come in here together at lunch-time are all ears, trying to find something to gossip about at dinner-time! As I was about to say-this friend rang me the other day to let me know she was going abroad, probably for a year. Now she has a bungalow at Bridlington-it actually overlooks the beach. She has told me I can use it whenever I want to. Now, apropos of Jane-how about you and I taking her there this week-end? The weather has been so marvellous for the past couple of days, it must hold up for another few-the weather man says it will!”
“That's a very kind thought, Stella. She has to be back at school for the following week-end, though.”
“Well that's no problem. Today's Wednesday-we could start out on Friday and come back on Monday afternoon. That would give us a clear week-end-will Phil be all right, do you think?”
“Oh, yes-he's so immersed in work, he'd hardly notice we were gone! They're working on plans for the entrance of the Chunnel project; he'll be stuck quite happily in his den with his drawing-board over the week-end and have a prowl round the 'fridge whenever he feels hungry.” I had one small misgiving, which I didn't mention to Stella-what his reaction would be when I told him I was going to spend a week-end with “the lesbian”! But that would be solved when I told Jane was coming and that it was for her benefit.
“Then all it needs is for me to give Rose a ring-she has a flat in town. I don't have to, really, but I will, just the same-just to let her know I'm taking her up on her offer and to wish her 'bon voyage.' Let's have coffee and whatever else you want with it, and I'll take you to a club I'm a member of for a quiet drink-I'll phone Rose from there.”
“If we're going to have more to drink-a cup of coffee will be fine-I don't want to roll home stoned!”
“We've only got through one bottle of wine! Still-I'm more used to drinking than you are, so we'll settle for a coffee. I've got to drive, anyway.”
We had our coffee and left the restaurant.
“I'll leave the car in the car-park-goodness knows where we'd find a space nowadays. Anyway-it's less than ten minutes' walk from here.”
We crossed Piccadilly and walked down the Hay-market, which I knew; then Stella took a right turn and a left turn, which I didn't know, and we eventually arrived at a well-kept, nineteenth century building on which one automatically expected to find a plaque, informing all who cared to look, that so-and-so lived here in 18?? We went inside and I found myself in an extremely plush hallway-flock wallpaper and thick pile carpet; paintings on the walls that looked as though they should cost the earth and what looked like a genuine Addams staircase.
I followed Stella across the hall and down narrow wooden stairs to what, in days gone by, were obviously the servants' quarters. We stopped at a door with a covered grill and she turned to me.
“Listen, darling-don't be surprised at what you see in here,” she whispered. “Above all-don't tell anyone about the place, or where it is-OK?”
“OK. Why-isn't it licensed, or something?”
“Oh, it's licensed, all right-but not for all that goes on! No one ever seems to be quite sure about the law on female homosexuality, and one has to play safe. You will see quite a few things that will open your eyes, my sweet. They have a strip-show-very much like they have for men, only it goes somewhat more into detail. You'll find it interesting, anyway.”
She pressed a bell at the side of the door and the cover slid away from the grill. I was aware of eyes glinting at me from the dimness.
“Stella Chambers-I've brought a friend-she's all right-I can vouch for her.” The door opened and I tagged along behind Stella.
“Hi, Stella-long time no see! Good to see you. Who's your friend?”
“This is Rita-a very close friend; we are practically next-door neighbours.”
“Of course-you live way out in the sticks, now, don't you! Hi, Rita-welcome to the clan.”
I had my hand clasped in a strong grip and pumped up and down. It was the woman who had opened the door to us. She sat on a high stool, and I saw that the bar came right up to the door, so that she only had to swivel on her seat to open it or to look through the grill, as the stool was right at the end of the bar.
For a moment, I wasn't quite sure whether I was having my hand shaken by an extremely effeminate man, or a woman in a man's suit. When I took a closer look I saw she had, incongruously, pencilled eyebrows and a light face make-up; as my eyes traveled down her body, I took in the loose, open jacket, partially disguising the enormous pair of breasts she had.
“Take that table just over there,” she pointed. “The show's starting in a couple of minutes. Watch out for the third act-it's a corker! The last one, of course, is still fabulous-yes-we still have Jean and Penny! They've worked out a completely new routine, though, and it's the berries! Tell me what you want and I'll have it sent over.”
“Oh, send over a bottle of-let's see, what wine do you have here? We don't want to mix our drinks too much. I know-Chatteau neuf du Pape; still keep it?”
“One Chatteau neuf coming up!”
We sat at the table she had indicated; it was right on the edge of the small dance floor, where several couples were swaying round to the accompaniment of a hidden juke-box.
Two or three obvious women were “dancing” with each other-smooching to music, I would have called it; two other couples were less obvious, though; I had to look very closely to find out that they were all women. One girl looked very attractive in a light print dress reaching to just above her knees; fairly low-cut, showing a lot of cleavage and the tops of fair-skinned well-developed breasts and straight shoulders.
Her partner wore a sports jacket and flannels, with an open-necked shirt; this one had a hard, mannish face and short-cropped hair. Although I had now faced up to the fact that sex relations with another woman-Stella, at any rate-had passed from the stage of merely a pleasant diversion to a near must, I was quite sure I would have been sickened by that type. I couldn't repress a shiver of revulsion at the thought of having her hands mauling me, or her mouth slobbering at me. I took a quick swig of the wine that was brought, to wash down the retch that threatened to choke me at the thought of my head between those near-masculine thighs.
“They have a pretty good show here-I don't know about the third act, but if George says it's good, then it's good. But the Jean and Penny act has been going on for ages and it's always quite fabulous. Don't be shocked, now!”
“I don't think I'll be shocked, but those two 'male women' on the floor make me feel slightly sick.”
“Jean and Penny aren't anything like them. They're two gorgeous girls. You wait and see-they'll be on in a minute. Let's have a dance while we're waiting — you won't have to watch those two butches, then.”
I looked at her for a moment, that feeling of unreality sweeping over me, then I stood up and glided into her arms, taking naturally the female role. It seemed quite the same as dancing with a man, except that Stella's bosom bounced and rubbed against mine as no male's had ever done!
“You dance very well, Rita.”
“Thanks, so do you-come here often?”
“Only in the mating season!”
“Ouch! I rather left myself open to that one, didn't I?”
“You did! I haven't been here for quite a while, but I used to come here a lot with Rose-she lives close by. Which reminds me-I'd better phone her.”
The music stopped and we went back to our table. As we sat down, the dim lighting dimmed even more and a voice came over a loudspeaker announcing the first act.
“I'll wait until after the show before phoning Rose,” Stella whispered. “How long does it last?”
“Not very long-they have about five or six acts and each one except the main item only lasts about three or four minutes; the last one takes about ten.”
“… introducing Lolita!”
The lights around the room went out altogether and a spotlight bit its way through the darkness to the centre of the floor. Into the brilliance stepped a pretty girl of about twenty, with dark hair reaching to her shoulders. She had on a full-length evening dress, with the skirt split on the left right up to her hip.
Music came from the loudspeaker and she moved around in step, followed by the spotlight, taking every opportunity to display the length of her leg and thigh through the split of the skirt. There was no attempt at dancing as such, merely movement designed to accentuate her curves. The dress was, of course, low cut and showed off her straight shoulders and the swell of her bosom. I suppose it was quite pleasant to watch, but nothing spectacular.
Then she showed us she had a zip under her left armpit, raising her arm, she pulled the zip right down to her hip and suddenly, the dress was a pool of blue at her feet. She posed, hands on hips, body swaying, now clad in bra, panties, suspender-belt, stockings and black, shiny leather shoes with heels that must have been at least six inches.
She moved around for a while, swaying all the time. Then slowly, the suspenders were unfastened; a chair was pushed into the spotlight and she sat down to roll the stockings off, giving us brief flashing of pantie crotch as she lifted each leg. Shoes were thrown aside, the stockings were taken right off. Then she got up and moved around some more, arms behind her, feeling for the catch of her bra; unfastened, her hands left the strap and went to cup the brassieres breasts, as she turned, smiling provocatively, to face the audience. She paused, then, with a flourish, took her hands away and let the bra drop to the floor. Her breasts were not terribly large, but the nipples looked big-probably painted-seeming to take up almost half the breast area. She strutted about, then, wriggling her upper body, jerking her titties from side to side.
“Shake 'em, Lolly-that's the girl!” came a voice from a nearby table.
Obligingly, the girl shook herself more vigorously, swinging her breasts from side to side as she backed towards the centre of the floor.
The spotlight lowered.then, covering her from the hips downwards, leaving the rest of her body in shadow. Her hands went to the waist of her panties, paused; her thumbs hooked into the elastic, paused again. Then slowly, she peeled them down over hips and bottom. A gasp went up as the flimsy nylon slipped half-way down her thighs, showing a triangle of dark pubic hair. When me panties reached her knees, she let go, allowing them to drop to her feet. She stepped back out of them, picked them up and put them on the chair.
She faced the audience once more, drawing herself up, running her hands slowly upwards from her thighs, over her stomach to her breasts, holding them up, pushing them out, as though offering them to the onlookers. She turned her back, thrust her behind out at us; turned again and stood with wide open legs, hips jutting forward, showing us the shadowy slit of her sex. Her hands smoothed up the inside of her thighs, met at her crotch; legs widened, slim fingers probed, opened up the lips of her vulva, glistening in the spotlight. Her upper body swayed back, pelvis still thrust forward; she posed like that for perhaps half a minute. The music had stopped and her only accompaniment was the murmur of gasps and comments from the tables. Then came a single chord of music and the spotlight went out.
“Well, what did you think?”
“She certainly showed us everything she had!”
“Not quite everything.”
“What do you want-blood?”
“We've had that, too!”
“Blood?”
“They had a couple of lesbian flagellants here-they had quite an act. They'd start off by miming an argument, then a fight; one would pretend to be knocked out while the other stripped her naked. Then a pretty solid-looking wooden triangle would be pushed on to the floor and a couple of the audience would be invited to help strap the naked girl to it-you can guess there were quite a few very willing volunteers! A whip would be produced and then the 'victim' would pretend to wake up just as her flogging was about to start.”
“And you mean to say the other woman whipped her until she drew blood?” I could hardly believe anyone would go to such lengths to earn money.
“Well, not- not exactly. I saw the act three or four times and the woman wielding the whip was quite clever. She made a great show of drawing it back and making the whip hum as she brought it over, but then she had the knack of making it crack viciously only an inch or so away from the bare back or bottom of the girl, so that to the casual onlooker, she was really flogging her. I do know, though, that the girl used to take two or three light blows to show some stripes- George tells me the whip had some sort of red colouring on it. The girl used to gasp and cry out and jerk about as though she was really being flogged.
“Then, one evening, they must have had a proper row before the show. They went on with the act, but as soon as the girl was strapped, naked, to the triangle, the other one must have seized her opportunity of settling whatever score she had. She began to flog her in earnest; the girl cried out, jerked, and even screamed for someone to stop the woman. Of course, we all thought it was a whale of a show they were putting on that night, until we realised that each time that whip cracked, another stripe was laid across the girl's back or behind. Then someone at one of the tables yelled that it was the real thing as a trickle of blood ran down the girl's back.
“George came trundling on, then, and shoved the woman away. I helped her unstrap the girl-she really had been whipped-poor thing was in an awful state. They didn't have that act any more!”
“Golly!” I shivered. “Some people go in for that, don't they-whipping each other, I mean.”
“Quite a lot — in a very modified form, it has its points as a sort of hors deurvre to the main course!” Stella topped up the glasses and smiled. “Don't worry — I'm not going to start beating you! Ah-here's the next act.”
The second turn was almost a repetition of the first, except that the girl had bigger breasts and stripped down from ordinary street clothes. The third act really was, as George had said, “a corker”!
The woman, I would say, was in her late twenties, a brunette, with ripe, mature curves. She was dressed in summery street clothes — light raincoat, belted, very high heeled shoes; an inch or two of a print dress showed beneath the raincoat and she carried a handbag.
At first, I thought it was going to be a copy of the first two acts, as she strutted around to music, gradually stripping until she was down to her bra and panties. She put her high heeled shoes back on after peeling off the stockings, then slowly swayed around the edge of the floor, close to the tables, followed by the spotlight. She began to sing in a low, throaty voice, pausing at odd tables; it was a pop number, but the words were laden with suggestion.
She stopped at our table, leaned, giving Stella and I a good view of her scantily-covered breasts. She walked round the table, paused again behind us, reached down and chucked Stella under the chin; her stomach pressed hard against my elbow as she bent forward. Stella grinned up at her, then the woman turned to me; her face was very close to mine as she sang words that went something like 'You do things to me-let me do things to you!' The strong perfume she was wearing tickled my nostrils as she came even closer; I looked at her heavily made-up face and decided she was quite pretty underneath it. She stopped singing and the music stopped with her; there was a tense silence in the club as her face came closer to mine. My heart-beat quickened as her lips came within an inch of mine; I didn't know whether to draw back or stay where I was; I thought she was going to kiss me as her scented breath blew on my mouth. Then she smiled, winked, ran the tip of her forefinger lightly down my nose and she was away, moving on to the next table, taking up the song where she had left off.
“Whew!” I let my breath out as I sat back.
“What's the matter-think she was going to rape you? Perhaps hoping she was?” Stella chuckled.
The singer went back to the centre of the floor again, body swaying in the tight pants and bra. Then came the final stripping. Off came the bra and knickers, slowly, in what seemed to be a conventional pattern.
Naked, now, except for the high heels, she posed for us, giving views of herself from the side, to show the firm, upward jut of her large breasts; the back, to let everyone see what a well-fleshed bottom she had and finally, she faced us, legs well apart, holding open the lips of her vulva.
She went over to the chair then, kneeling in front of it, giving us a side view of her. Opening her handbag, she put both hands inside, paused, then slowly drew them out again. Another gasp went up from the tables as a huge rubber affair came into view; shaped like a male penis, it had a big bulb at the base of it, just where a man's testicles would be.
The woman went through all sorts of suggestive movements with her hands; stroking the rubber penis, squeezing the bulb very gently, putting her face close to the tip, her mouth opening as though she were about to suck it, then pushing it away from her.
“I don't know if you've ever seen one before, but that's a dildo,” whispered Stella.
“I've heard of them, but this is the first time I have seen one-pretty life-like, aren't they!”
“And that one's a little larger than life!”
Georgina was now crouching on the floor, the dildo held at arm's length as though it were a snake. Gradually, she swayed back, until her bottom was on the floor; further still, slowly, and then she was flat on her back, the dildo held above her.
Leisurely, her long legs began to open; wider and wider until they were stretched to their maximum, showing us the whole length of her slit. The lips hung well open and shone wetly in the brilliant light; even so, I had doubts whether she would get that great dildo up her, because that was the obvious next move.
The music stopped again and she slowly brought the rubber cock down, holding it between her outstretched thighs, the knob poised above her opening. There came a roll of drums, her arms jerked sharply downwards, pulling inward and ramming the whole length of the huge dildo up her in one savage thrust. There were squeals of exclamations from the women at the tables and her own face contorted as it went in. She lay back, and we could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.
Then, very softly, tom-toms began. Holding the dildo quite still in her hands, she began to lift her bottom off the floor, jerking her sex up at the dildo, in time to the beat of the drums. That was the only part of her body that moved the whole time. That slow working of her sex on to the dildo, hips and bottom moving sinuously.
Gradually, the tom-toms became louder, their tempo faster, Georgina matching them with her movements, until the whole thing became frenzied. Sweat filmed her body, and the steady thump, thump of her buttocks on the floor provided a syncopation for the drums. Her rasping breath and jerky moans came to us above the sound of the toms-toms. Suddenly, her buttocks high off the floor, dildo in her to the hilt, she stopped then, with a deep groan, her bottom lowered once more, to jerk up hard; at the same time, she gave herself one brutal thrust, plunging the rubber shaft deeply madly squeezing the bulb at the end. The drums stopped.
Then her hands fell away and she jerked about on the floor, whimpering, the dildo half hanging out of her. She was either having a frantic orgasm or she was a first class actress!
The switching off of the spotlight ended the act amid tumultuous applause. I jerked involuntarily as Stella reached over in the semi-darkness and patted my lap — high up at the tops of my thighs.
“Bet it's pretty sticky just about there,” she whispered. “My drawers must be soaked! Wow! What an act!”
“Is it strictly legal?”
“Search me! We're all one sex-well-near enough! The show's private and for members only-and, incidentally, no one under twenty-one is admitted. I don't know of any law against consenting lesbians in private and over twenty-one. You figure it out!”
The next act was a repetition of the first two and I suppose came under the heading of “straight stripper.”
Finally, Jean and Penny were announced. Jean was a full-breasted, attractive brunette and Penny a tall, slim blonde, both in their mid-twenties.
Jean wore a gold lame cocktail dress, off-the-shoulder, with a simple chain necklace, wrist-watch, seamed nylons and gold high-heeled shoes.
Penny escorted her as her boy-friend; wearing a man's dinner jacket and accessories. A bottle and two half-filled glasses were on the table, with two chairs to one side.
They sat down, Jean giving us a flash of her lacy underthings as she crossed her shapely legs. They mimed talking and drinking for a while until the music started. Then Penny stood up, bowed elaborately and Jean nodded, ostentatiously un-crossing her legs and getting to her feet.
They danced a sort of acrobatic tango, and could they dance! Jeans' skirt, of course, kept swirling up round her hips, showing us a well-rounded and snugly-pantied bottom topping two plump, but well-shaped thighs.
The dance finished and they sat down again; they “talked and drank” some more, then began the seduction scene.
First, Penny's arm went around Jean's shoulders, then she was persuaded to a kiss. A hand went to her bosom, to be slapped away. It tried again, stayed. Jean acting all coy and keeping her head averted. The hand began to fondle and Jean to soften; Jenny's hand finally slipped down inside her dress and we could see the exaggerated movement of the hand squeezing the breast it was cupping. Jean gave free access to her lips, then.
There was a murmur of laughter as George came on, pointing towards the door and their faces registered embarrassed dismay. They stood up and slunk from the floor with bowed heads, while George picked up bottle and glasses and dusted the table. The spotlight went out; one or two people started to applaud, but that was only the beginning!
When the light came on again, it showed a park bench, with Jean and Penny taking up where they left off. Penny's hand kept sliding down the front of Jean's body to the hem of her skirt and getting slapped away every time it tried to slip under it. Kissing went on for a while, then the hand would try its luck again.
At last, we saw the hand slide up under the skirt, move up and down, stroking Jean's thighs; move higher — pause. A loud gasp came from Jean as she slapped Penny's face. Then Penny started all over again.
There were occasional gasps from some of the nearby tables as couples emulated the pair en the floor.
So the act went on, Penny whispering and Jean shaking her head. Then came the time when the hand was allowed to remain high under the skirt; there was plenty of movement there, now, and Jean's legs splayed open, to let us see the hand busily stroking at her crotch. Some more whispers, more shaking of Jean's head, but slower. Finally, shyly, she turned her head away from Penny and nodded. Penny whispered again and Jean looked at her with wide eyes, peered up and down as if to see if there was anyone coming, then slowly got to her feet.
First looking at Penny doubtfully, her hands then went behind her. She turned her back to us and pulled down a zip, wriggling to get the tight dress down her body, drawing loudly whispered offers from the audience as she deliciously waggled her plump bottom from side to side once the dress was past her hips.
Suspenders were slowly unfastened, shoes and stockings removed. She released her lovely large breasts, moving enough where she stood to make them sway from side to side, holding the bra out from her body before letting it fall to the floor with the rest of her things.
She made a real production number of getting out of her panties, starting to take them off as she faced us, turning as they got lower until her back was to us again and we saw the panties pulled down to the tops of her thighs, bringing more appreciative gasps from the onlookers as her full, white buttocks were revealed. When she turned back to face us, the front of her pants still covered her pubic hair; she looked coyly at us, then at Penny, and, with a swift movement, pushed the filmy panties right down, let them slide down her legs to her feet, then stepped out of them. She undipped the suspender-belt, dropped it, then looked challengingly at Penny, tapping her foot, as though to say, “well, I'm naked-what are you going to do about it?”
Penny, who had stood motionless while Jean stripped, off her jacket, followed it with her bow tie, unlaced her shoes and kicked them off. She unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off, disclosing a tight man's vest underneath. Beneath the vest, we saw the two small, but firm-looking bulges of her breasts.
I was quite startled when her trousers were removed — there was a long, hard lump pushing out the underpants! Off came the vest, revealing very round, very firm little breasts. Jean eyed the lump under the pants, her hand going to her mouth nervously as. Penny hooked her thumbs into the waist.
Penny turned her back to the audience and Jean alike, then skinned the pants down her legs, showing us a pair of round, tight buttocks and long, slim legs. With an abrupt movement, she swung round to face us, murmured comments came from the tables and someone just behind us called out:
“Bloody hell-give us a bit!” drawing “shushes” from the rest.
Strapped about Penny's loins was a truly huge dildo-even bigger than the one Georgina had used. It stuck out, swaying threateningly. Unlike the black, gleaming rubber of Georgina's, this one was flesh-coloured, with a purplish knob and a very like-like ball-bag dangling between Penny's thighs.
As her partner moved towards her, dildo swinging from the base of her belly, Jean gave a loud, frightened “No-I couldn't possibly!” and backed away, as Penny came on, she turned and ran. Then the chase was on.
Round the park bench went Jean, with Penny in hot pursuit, Jean's plump breasts bouncing up and down and Penny so close, her “penis” several times brushed the well-fleshed bottom.
At last, Jean appeared to trip-conveniently sprawling length-wise along the park bench. Immediately. Penny was on her, straddling her buttocks, hands pressing down on her back. She held her until Jean stopped her struggles. She got off the bench, then, one hand still on Jean's back, holding her down.
“Kneel up and open your legs-I want to do it from the back!” said Penny, in a stage whisper.
Jean looked round at the great dildo, shuddered and shook her head. Penny began to smack her, then, making the plump cheeks of her bottom jerk and quiver with the impact, as the slaps cracked loudly through the room. Jean gasped and groaned and finally nodded her head vigorously.
“All right,” she panted, “don't smack me any more, please!”
Her bottom showed pink under the light as Penny stood away from her and she rose to her knees, backing to the end of the bench. There, she spread her legs to the full width of the bench and stuck her bottom out, looking back fearfully as Penny stepped up behind her and the tip of the false penis rested on her behind.
Penny spread open the lower part of Jean's buttocks, exposing a wet, open vulva below them. There was hushed silence as the big, purple knob approached and touched the female slit, which looked far too small to accommodate the huge shaft.
Holding the buttocks apart all the time, Penny began to press inwards; we could see the lips stretching round the knob. Suddenly, Penny gave a little jerk forward and Jean squealed as the knob went into her, followed by several inches of the dildo. She wriggled on the end of it and Penny waited until she was still, then gave her another thrust, sinking several more inches into her.
Jean jerked and squealed again as more of that brutal looking shaft drove up her. I heard a frantic wriggling at the next table and saw a girl sprawl, moaning, across it, her hand up under her skirt.
“She might have waited and done it at the same time, so as not to distract one's attention.” whispered Stella. “No finesse!”
Back on the floor, poor Jean still knelt on the bench, about three-quarters of the dildo up her, now. Penny was now holding her round the hips, her hands moving between the spread legs. One more thrust and the dildo was in all the way, Penny's stomach tight against Jean's bottom. Then Penny began to give her long, hard, penetrating thrusts, each one bringing a moan from the recipient.
“She's giving her a jolly good old fucking,” murmured Stella, always fond of the vernacular. “They're 'husband and wife' in private life, you know.”
“Must be nice to get paid for doing what you enjoy anyway.”
Penny's hips were jerking backwards and forwards at speed now, and Jean was thrusting back strongly to meet her.
Then came an explosive gasp from Jean, she jerked wildly for a few moments.
“I–I'm c-coming!” she panted, “now!” The last word was almost a scream.
Penny reached behind her, grabbed the “balls,” squeezing them rapidly. There was a squelching sound as fluid was pumped into the madly jerking girl, running down her thighs and on to the floor. Penny herself jerked hard, moaning, as she pretended to have an orgasm. Jean collapsed forward on the bench and Penny drooped on top of her, both of them shaking and panting.
We watched them gradually recovering from their “intercourse” and saw Penny just withdrawing from Jean, when on to the floor, wearing a policeman's jacket and helmet, came George, waving a truncheon. The two girls took one look at her and ran, with George after them, calling on them to stop in the name of the law. Blackout!
“How about that?” said Stella, when she could make herself heard above the applause.
“Fantastic!” was the only word I could think of at the time.
“I'll phone Rose now-shan't be long. And don't get yourself picked up while I'm away-they'll all be madly sexy after that last scene, and they're not all that fussy about taking someone else's girl-friend, given half a chance. You'd be whipped into the toilet and have your panties down before you could say 'knife'!”
“I'll watch out. I'll say my boy-friend's just outside making a phone-call-or should I say 'girl-friend.' I'm not quite sure which category we come under.”
“I'd say it was a mutual arrangement, darling-I don't feel at all mannish and I'm sure you don't. Let's say we're girl-friends-intimate girl-friend!”
“What would they want to do to me if they got me in the toilet?” I asked.
“Oh, all sorts of things: have a feel round you, masturbate you, or get you to masturbate them. Or, after a preliminary feel round, try and date you for a bed tonight! So you sit tight and the only way they'll be able to get at your 'business end' will be by boring a hole from under the chair!”
The lights had gone up and the music started again: couples drifted on to the floor. It gave me a very odd feeling as I watched two pretty women in their thirties, gazing adoringly into each others eyes as they danced, exchanging kisses; they looked so absolutely feminine. I smiled at the thought-Stella and I looked just as feminine, felt just as feminine. I thought of Phil and Jane at home and took a long pull at my glass to wash it away.
“Care to dance?”
I looked up, startled, as the voice broke into my reverie. It was one of the real “male” types, in a dinner jacket; I looked into the mannish face and felt a little nervous as her eyes devoured me.
“Er-no, thanks-I'm just waiting for my-my friend to come back.” I looked over my shoulder a little apprehensively, hoping I'd see Stella coming back.
“Don't worry, you're quite safe,” she chuckled. “I don't cheat!”
She turned away and I gave a sigh of relief as Stella came back to the table.
“Made a date with you?” she grinned.
“Not likely! I said I was waiting for you and she said not to worry, as she didn't cheat.”
“No-some of them play square. Well, I spoke to Rose-she's asked us over for tea.” Stella lifted the bottle. “Let's finish this up and get a taxi-it's not far.”
“No more for me-I'll be pie-eyed! I'll finish what I have in my glass.”
As we left, George looked me up and down and cocked an eyebrow at Stella.
“Lovely girl, your Rita, Stella-I take it she's booked?”
Stella looked at me and nodded.
“She's booked, I'm afraid, George. I agree with you, though-she is a lovely girl.”
“Ah, well, that's life! Enjoy the show, Rita?”
I said I had thought it fabulous, blushing at the comments about my person.
“Bring her again, Stella; let her see more of life- she seems to be a little inexperienced!”
“Pure is a much better word. George,” laughed Stella. “'Bye for now.”
“What is Rose like?” We sat in the taxi. “Will she mind your bringing me along? After all, you were her…”
“Good lord, no! She invited you, anyway. I've told you that was over a couple of years ago. Besides, she has another woman waiting for her to join her in Paris tomorrow. By the way-it's OK for the bungalow, any time we want to use it.”
“She sounds nice.”
“She is nice.”
“Pretty?”
“Mmm-hardly pretty: handsome, certainly. No — she isn't the mannish type, either. Dresses well, makes up well. A little older than us; let's see-she'll be just about forty now. Bigger, too-she has a forty-one bust, but she's fairly tall and carries it well. Auburn hair- very like yours.”
“Do you go for auburn-haired women, Stella?”
“Don't know — I haven't really thought about it. You jealous?”
“Don't know-1 haven't really thought about it!” I mimicked.
“Now you've had a taste of it, who knows- you may start running round trying to make all the women you can lay your hands on!”
“I should think that most unlikely.”
“Did that show do anything to you? Here-let's have a little feel!”
“Stella!” I frantically tried to hold my skirt down as Stella's hand went to my knees.
“Well what about the titties, then — those nipples should be as big as…” the hand went up to my bosom.
My hands immediately shot up to protect them. Too late, I.realised it had only been a feint to get at me down below. Her hand at once came down and was under my skirt and between my thighs before I could close my legs. I jerked with sensation as soon as her fingers touched my crotch.
“Stella! No! Please-what will the taxi-driver think.”
I fought to pull her hand out, blushing furiously.
“They're used to this. Besides, he's concentrating on driving-he won't even notice. Golly-your panties are pretty sticky!”
“What did you expect? Taking me to a place like that?”
“Would you have liked Penny to have done that to you?”
“In front of all those people?” I gasped. “In private, then?”
“I don't think so.” Then I smiled at her. “She hasn't got such nice titties as you have!”
“Thank you! You'd let me do it to you, then?”
“Mmm-I didn't say that!”
“You think you'd like it, though.”
“I didn't say that, either! Now will you please take your hand from under my clothes. The taxi's slowing down-quickly, Stella-he'll see us!”
“We're here, anyway.” Stella at last took her hand out from under my skirt, letting me push it down to a respectable level as she opened the door.
She paid off the cab and we went in to a small block of recently built flats. We got into the lift and she pressed for the second floor. Stepping out of the lift, we found ourselves in a short corridor with two doors on either side.
“It's number five,” said Stella, going over and thumbing an illuminated button below the figure five.