"When the loving gets rough" - читать интересную книгу автора (Scope Perry)

CHAPTER FIVE

A thin youth perched on a stool, and with a high womanish voice sang love songs of his invention. His delicate small-boned fingers plucked out a thin, wispy accompaniment. His ragged blond beard did little to disguise his effeminacy to which his song passionately confessed.

But Pat wasn't looking at the boy. Her watery eyes swam over the coffeehouse once more. The dainty heart-shaped face wasn't among the tightly packed mass of pretty, darkly outlined faces.

"Boy of the woods, youth of the forest… Sob once more against the virile breast of the wooden earth. Climb the grassy crest… in my arms again find new birth."

Pat tried to shut her ears to the pseudo-feminine singing. The coffeehouse, usually a favorite spot, was irritating her tonight. This faggot with his lovesick songs, this collection of bodies which didn't include the one she wanted. Pat hadn't been able to get the girl out of her mind since last night. Karen! Why wasn't she here?

Pat again turned her eyes impatiently to the door. Would she come? Or was she home, in bed with her husband, in his arms, letting him feast his eyes and loins on the sweetness that Pat felt must soon belong to her? Pat shivered as an intense hatred of a man she had never met swept through her. She had to have this girl! She had to! Karen! Come in now! You must! I want you! Pat moved restlessly in the hard, cushion less chair. She regarded her untouched cooling coffee mournfully as the boy finished his song and sat down, giving the small platform up to the wild-eyed huge male with the shaved skull. He began immediately to recite some obscure poetry in a dull monotone. The coffeehouse was dense with cigarette smoke, warping the room with bluish vapors.

Pat pushed her own cigarette into the metal tray next to her coffee mug. She sniffed the foul air deliberately, hoping to catch a thin whiff of soap and talcum, the wonderful odor which had trailed cloud-like from Karen's curvaceous body. Pat found it hard to believe that her longing could not be felt by Karen, wherever she was, would not be picked up and urge the girl to the coffee shop, to her.

Vibrations were in the air. They were every-where. Pat could feel a dozen or more of them right now. She had only to close her eyes to sense hostility and trust, lust and momentary love, destructiveness and creativity, grief and happiness. It poured out at her, like sand from a loosely cupped hand. Others laughed at her, she knew, but Pat was one of the special ones – she felt things others seemed to be incapable of feeling.

It was growing late. Pat knew Karen would not be coming, but still she clung to the hope, forcing herself to listen to the poetry being dealt card-like to the quasi-receptive audience. Finally, with a queer little thrill of frustration, Pat got up to leave. She didn't know where she would go, but she had to get out of this place at once. As she reached the door she felt eyes on her, digging into her lean back. Pat looked around, the lids drawing back from her squinting eyes. Maybe, maybe, somehow… she thought. But it was just Lorna Wayne who smiled boldly at her. Not that Lorna was ordinarily to be taken lightly. Pat had enjoyed Lorna more than once, enjoyed the tough-nippled breasts, the softly curving belly, the long strands of blond hair which had formed golden puddles over Pat's body. But now Lorna looked only slightly more desirable to Pat than the droning, slick-domed man, who, Pat felt, would never again be still.

"Oh, leaving already?" Lorna asked, letting her disappointment show. "I had hoped we could get up a little…" She smiled meaningfully.

"Yes. I can't stomach all this tonight." Pat hesitated as the girl came closer. She liked the way the long blond strands curled around each of Lorna's pear-shaped breasts. She wavered, remembering how the girl was in bed, how demanding she always was… no! Not tonight! Not with the scent of another girl, a still lovelier girl, still fresh in her flaring nostrils.

"Going for a walk?" Lorna prompted, waiting hopefully for an invitation. If a party was out she would gladly settle for a bed, her car seat, even a secluded bit of grass somewhere.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll see you later." Pat turned to go.

"I'll be here another hour or so," Lorna said quickly. She reached out a hand to touch the dark girl, but Pat was gone.

Pat was in front of Karen's house before she admitted to herself why she was heading away from Venice and home, and into Santa Monica. The house was dark and tiny, but Pat could think of nowhere else she would rather be. Yet, there was a trace of strangeness, of disagreeable alien remoteness to the house tonight. He was home; Pat was sure of it. And it was dark inside. Pat listened for a moment. And quiet too. His body was next to Karen – maybe on top of her, stuffing himself in-side.

The sea breeze was unusually chilly. Pat trembled as the wind penetrated her thin cloth jacket and pullover sweater. Her perfect and strong legs felt the night briskness whip through the denim of her trousers, licking at her calves and thighs like an icy tongue.

Pat knew she should leave – there was nothing for her here, not now, not with him inside. Still she took the coldness and the loneliness for a few minutes more, reaching out with her mind and drugged heart to the girl. If she could only will Karen to appear, to come to her… It could be done. If she truly believed in it… and she did.

The night remained black and quiet, unbroken by the desired light or sound. Pat tried not to feel the cold. If she did not desire to feel it, she would not feel it. Yet her flesh cooled under her clothes, even while the furnace within her was continually stoked by visions of a negligee-clad Karen coming to her arms.

Pat looked once more at the locked front door, made one last intense wish, then, after a short unrewarding wait, she started away. She couldn't have Karen, not tonight, at any rate. Still, the thundering passion she felt could not go unappeased. Pat walked faster, putting more and more distance between the house and herself with every step. She crossed her arms for warmth, and, wondering if Lorna would still be at the coffeehouse when she got there, she broke into a graceful trot.

Karen kept her body rigid as Al turned over next to her. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to wake up! Sometimes, acting more than half asleep, Al would break his deep slumber in the middle of the night and, if she happened to be awake beside him, he would reach out for her almost woodenly. He would somehow always be ready for her. Karen hated those mindless, emotionless times even more than the others.

When Al's breathing was normal again, Karen allowed herself a small restless wriggle. She couldn't sleep – it was impossible. She found it equally impossible to think of anything but Patricia Collins. Then Karen became aware of a dull scraping sound. It seemed to come from right outside her front door. She listened with bated breath, as she thought she heard light footsteps retreating faster and faster from the house. She resisted an urge to get up and see who might be there. An immediately discarded image of Pat waiting outside for her popped into her mind. Karen wanted to tiptoe to the window and glance outside. But if no one was there… if she had made the trip for nothing, only to find on her return to bed Allen awake and eager for her again, she would die. She tried to force sleep to overtake her – even though she knew it was useless.

Finally, arranging the pillow more comfortably under her head, Karen gave up her futile attempts to seduce sleep. She allowed herself to dwell leisurely on Pat, going over their words together. Then she thought of all the things that were yet unsaid. She speculated about Pat's admission of prostitution. She wondered why this information, which, Karen knew, would shock and disgust her if it was anyone else, disturbed her so little.

She didn't want to think about that, anyway. In the privacy of the night, the intimacy of her bed and her impregnable thoughts, Karen played with and worried the knowledge of Pat's lesbianism. It gave a name, a meaning, to the wild emotions which fired her brain and aroused her body. Pat wanted her… Pat, that beautiful, beautiful creature, strange and strangely free… wanted her! It scared Karen, yet at the same time it also ignited her blood. Around Pat she acted the way gasoline reacted to a match, going off in small, body-shaking explosions of her hidden flesh, her trembling belly, her velvet-skinned inner thighs.

She had always assumed that a lesbian was a walking advertisement for degradation and misplaced identity. Karen had seen them by the oceanfront many times, mannishly dressed and crudely ludicrous. She had always felt a hesitant pity for these women. Often, in the case of a girl who would be feminine if garbed in a dress and heels, she had felt strong curiosity. But Pat was different. Pat was… beautiful… It was the only word Karen could think of that came close to describing the girl. She would never have guessed. Never.

Then Karen thought of her friend Lennie. For the first time Karen objectively pictured the girl with whom she had grown up. Lenore Gilchrist had retained her boyishness even after other girls had long outgrown the tomboy stage. Lennie, who hated being called Lenore, was tall, slim, and the hard nubbins of her breasts were still tight lumps which scarcely bulged her sweaters. Lennie had never liked boys. She had vigorously shared Karen's outspoken fear of them.

Karen remembered how hurt Lennie had been when Al had begun showing an interest in Karen. The two friends had from childhood planned to share an apartment together after graduation from high school. Her marriage had shattered Lennie along with those plans, and Karen knew that no matter how Lennie tried to disguise it, the girl still resented Al, blaming him for taking Karen away from her. Now Lennie lived alone in an apartment nearby, spending as much time with Karen as possible. The girl had even turned down an offer once for a better job, simply because it would mean seeing less of Karen.

Karen was now wide awake. She wondered at Lennie's passionate interest in her, strangely titillated by a whole world of sensations and experiences she had never before considered. The thought of making love to Lennie did not excite her at all… but Karen felt faint from the realization of how much the thought of being made love to by Pat did!

Karen eased herself cautiously out of bed, making the move by inches, stopping whenever the springs squealed in mild protest to the shift in weight. She dressed quietly, quickly, and in the dark. She wanted to put makeup on her freshly scrubbed face and arrange her hair attractively, but she dared not risk it. Before leaving the house she considered penning a note in case Al woke up worried, but every minute she delayed might mean arousing him. Besides, Karen thought, Pat might be leaving right now, right this minute. It might already be too late. Karen located her pocketbook in the dark and hurriedly tiptoed out of the house.

The big, bald man she had noticed the last time she was there was just stepping down from the informal stage as Karen entered the crowded coffee shop. His mouth was twisted into an ugly scowl as he stuffed papers impatiently in his pocket. The tight jeans he wore made the operation difficult, if not impossible. His frown darkened as he gave up in disgust and stalked out of the shop, almost knocking Karen over as he passed her. Karen glanced quickly around the restaurant. Everyone looked exceptionally bored and sleepy, Karen observed. But she really wasn't interested in the other patrons – and the one person she was interested in wasn't there.

Disappointed, Karen found a small empty table and ordered coffee. Maybe she would be in yet. Karen was staggered by the depth of her disappointment. What had she expected? Pat to be here, waiting for her? And then what? What did she want? Pat would be here, and the two of them would go off, hand in hand. To what? Where? Karen shivered and attacked her coffee grimly as soon as the waitress brought it.

The blurred shadow of early dawn was lighting the sky as Karen let herself into the house. She was tired. An infinite weariness was pressing in on her shoulders, her eyelids. Karen knew it was more than the hour, more than her body that produced this soul-crumbling exhaustion. But for now, at least, she would be content to sleep… She removed her shoes and padded barefoot to the bedroom.

Al was sitting on the bed, the short stub of his glowing cigarette burning unnoticed towards his clenched fingers. He looked up when she came into the room, his eyes puffy with sleep and worry. His body, covered only by loosely belted trousers, looked painfully thin, his narrow chest very naked under the light fringe of brown hair.

Karen put her shoes on the floor when she saw him. She bit nervously at her bottom lip, waiting to experience the guilt she told herself she had no reason to feel. "You're up," she said tonelessly when he didn't speak.

Allen got off the bed and came to his wife. The look of concern was fading from his features now that she was home. It was replaced with annoyance and something else Karen was too tired to evaluate.

"Yes, I'm up," Allen managed, stubbing out the bit of cigarette and then licking instinctively at his singed knuckle. "Where the hell were you, Karen?" He made an obvious effort to control his voice.

Karen turned her back and pulled off her loose sweater. She worked the zipper on her blouse, glad for something to which she could turn her eyes. "Oh," she sighed, striving desperately for casualness, "I couldn't sleep so I took a walk that's all. I hope you didn't worry, Al. I was going to leave you a note, but I didn't want to wake you. I thought I'd be back before you got up." Karen folded the sweater neatly and placed it in the drawer. She picked up the blouse and walked to a wicker hamper and dropped the garment inside. She drew out these little acts, making them last as long as possible.

"A walk? In the middle of the night? In this cruddy neighborhood?" Al turned his wife around, making her face him. His eyes automatically traveled over her torso, hesitating at the large breasts harnessed by the specially made bra she had to wear. She didn't often let him see her even partially undressed. She claimed the sight aroused him too much. She was right. But not now, not if he could help it.

Karen pulled away from Allen carefully, not wanting to anger him. She was suddenly afraid of his anger. She had no defense against it, against the answers she couldn't even give herself. "I just couldn't sleep. I guess you're right, though. It is kind of a bad neighborhood. But I can take care of myself."

Al watched her undo the fastening of her tight slacks. He wanted to ignore her slim, unusually voluptuous body. That body that she never wanted him to know.

"Over three hours?" Allen lit another cigarette, remembered his hurt finger and smashed the new cigarette to bits in the ashtray. "You just walked for over three hours?"

Had it really been three hours? Karen wondered, not really caring whether she had been away three minutes or three years. She slid the slacks over her hips and eased them from her legs, keeping her back solidly to her husband. "I just wasn't tired. I stopped for some coffee." Had she truly sat in the gradually emptying coffeehouse for three hours waiting for a dark girl with wonderful eyes whom she hardly knew?

"Stopped for coffee? Where? You didn't go to that weirdo place again did you?" Allen looked hard at the suddenly ballooning flesh of his wife's panty covered rump. He felt the familiar heat in his loins. He wanted to touch her, caress the two globes that somehow looked as innocent as a baby's rear. But if he touched her, that lovely skin would freeze under his fingers. He sighed with long, painful frustration.

"I wish you wouldn't refer to the coffeehouse that way," Karen objected, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She turned around, forgetting how she was dressed until she saw his eyes go to the plump flesh of her thighs. She glanced down and saw the frilly panties which were her only covering. She twisted away from his penetrating eyes and walking stiffly to the closet and pulled out a warm flannel robe. She felt much better once she had something on.

"What's it got, baby? The coffeehouse, I mean. What's so hot there besides the coffee that makes you walk all the way to Venice in the middle of the night?"

Karen had never before heard Allen sound quite as bitter and sarcastic, not even during their arguments. "I told you, Al, I was just out walking. I happened to be going in that direction, so I stopped there for coffee."

"You sure that… that girl you met, that… what's her name?"

Karen sat heavily on the bed. "Patricia Collins." The name sounded precious in her ears.

"Are you sure that Patricia Collins is a girl?" Allen's face was flushed.

"No!" Karen exploded angrily. Oh, if he only knew! "Patricia's a man, of course!"

Allen couldn't take it as a joke. Suddenly it all seemed only too plausible. If there was a man… She was so cold to him. Allen seized the girl by her shoulders. "Karen! Don't lie to me! The way you freeze up with me all the time. Have you been seeing a… a man on the side? I want the truth, do you hear me?"

She almost smiled. This was not the calm, unemotional man she knew. Karen found herself almost enjoying Al's anger. It was, at least, different. Then Karen felt an abrupt disgust congest her throat in sickening spasms. This whole ugly scene was degrading for both of them. How could he subject her to such accusations? "Allen, stop it!" Karen shut her eyes, not wanting to see his face. It was now hateful and ugly to her. "Just stop it! I went for a simple walk! I couldn't sleep! There is no other man!" She sighed and opened her eyes, controlling herself better now. But the feeling of repulsion she had toward her husband persisted. Karen wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget this whole, disastrous night. "And Pat is a girl. You'll meet her. She might come over for coffee tomorrow. Eight." Why did I say that? she thought, realizing that now she would have to go after Pat again. Was that why I mentioned her?

After Al, subdued and looking sick, went into the bathroom, Karen climbed into bed on her side and pulled the blanket up to her neck. She was too tired and disgusted to remove her robe and get into a gown. Her bra bit into her flesh, but she didn't have the strength to loosen it. She wanted to sleep for a week. But she had to get up tomorrow, had to find Pat and show Al. Karen's eyelids lowered dreamily, shielding her eyes from the graying light which began to fill the room.

Damn you Al… Dear Pat… you would never treat me like this… Sweet… sweet Pat… you would never… be mean…

Karen slept until one o'clock. By the time she had straightened up the house, done some necessary ironing for Allen, and gotten dressed, it was time to start dinner. Al had a tight schedule on Saturdays. He worked all afternoon and had just enough time to come home for dinner before returning to the store for the evening shift. Karen had wanted to find Pat and talk her into spending an evening with her – and meeting Al later on – but she knew it was not just to prove to her husband that Pat really was a girl, that she wanted to see Pat. The memory of her evening with the dark-haired girl was threatening to drive her out of her mind. She could not stop thinking of Pat. She tried to tell herself that what really drove her on this way was a morbid kind of curiosity – but she knew the truth… What she felt towards Pat was desire, flesh-trembling desire. Al had become a tower of boredom and neglect. Pat was a bird, with freedom and excitement promised on the tips of each lovely feather.

The nearly silent dinner lasted an eternity for Karen. Before going back to the store Allen asked his wife about the evening. "Planning on doing anything special?" he asked.

"I… I don't know yet. My friend said she would call if she can make it."

"Okay. I'll see you later." Allen straightened his tie and watched her clear the table. He felt guilty about the things he had accused her of in the morning, but his irritation remained unabated. If there was no man – and now that he had calmed down he did believe Karen about that – then what was wrong with her? Al glanced at his watch. As usual, he simply didn't have the time even to worry, much less do anything about the problem. He had exactly twenty minutes to get back to work.

Karen tidied the kitchen as soon as Allen was gone, and got down to the beach front just as the sun was disappearing into the water. It was Saturday evening and Pat might be just conventional enough to want to go out on the one night of the week everyone else did.

She felt wonderful all of a sudden. Pat would be there and would be happy to come to the house for coffee. She would show Allen.

Through the tinted glass front of the restaurant Karen noticed Pat sitting at a table in the center of the floor, appearing to be the hub of activity, with the other people revolving about her like spokes twirling around their axis.

Oh, no! Karen stopped short just inside the door. Pat wasn't alone! Karen hadn't noticed the blond girl sitting next to Pat. All she had looked for and all she had seen was Pat. Now, with typical feminine curiosity, Karen studied the other girl Pat had her back to the door and the blonde was facing her, so Karen could get a good look at her face. She was extremely pretty, Karen admitted miserably to herself. Her long hair glinted with a silvery glow and framed a lush, sensual face. The conviction that the girl used an aid to lighten her hair didn't make Karen feel any better. The girl was lovely… and she was with Pat.

Karen felt ill from the paralyzing pain which seemed to grip her. Abruptly, she began to realize that she had assumed a great deal. It was only one evening… she hardly knew Pat. Pat might have said the same things to many girls… many times. Pat might have forgotten she even existed…

She couldn't! Karen stared at the narrow back which was again covered by the black sweat shirt. She trailed her eyes up past the intensely graceful nape of Pat's neck to the rich, dark, cropped hair. Every line of the girl's body was somehow familiar to Karen. Pat couldn't have forgotten her!

Karen knew she should leave, go home, forget this girl who, at best, only meant confusion and trouble. Back to what? An empty house, a husband who cares only about a few square inches of my body? And what is there for me here? she wondered. I'll leave, she decided, knowing that she wanted to stay.

Pat saved her from acting either way on her decision. The pale-eyed girl leaned back in her chair and twisted around, making a quick scan of the room. Karen held her breath. She would know so much from that first look. Her stomach was tied in knots. If Pat didn't recognize her immediately, if there was a brief look of puzzlement even, she would leave at once, forget this girl who was driving her out of her mind.

It was just like the first time. Their eyes met and everything else blurred for both girls. Karen lost herself in the ocean depths of Pat's unique eyes, thrilling to the realization that Pat had also felt the same instantaneous excitement from the contact. Both forgot the long-haired blonde.

Lorna had been an insatiable panter in Pat's arms the night before. When she had returned to the coffeehouse from the walk that led her to Karen's doorstep, Lorna was still there and eagerly accepted Pat's invitation to spend the night at her apartment.

"I've got to do it my way tonight," Pat advised Lorna as soon as they reached the privacy of her living room. In her mind's eye she held the image of Karen, using a substitute blonde to act out her fantasy. "And the first thing I want to do is feel those gorgeous tits."

"Anything you say, sweets," Lorna cooed as Pat began to open the buttons on her blouse. The dreamy, faraway look in Pat's eyes only suggested an inner bliss she had known herself – though usually with an innocent young girl.

With deft fingers. Pat eased the girl's bra from the full, pear-shaped mounds. Lorna's nipples fizzed out straight and hard. "Such beautiful, delicious tits," Pat sighed, her hands gliding feather-like over and around the milk-white globes of ivory-smooth flesh.

"Oh! Lick them, baby," Lorna cried breathlessly.

"Shhh!" Pat scolded, then quickly added in a soft voice, "Everything, my love. I won't disappoint you… you can be sure of that."

Lorna's heart beat faster as the excitement of Pat's tantalizingly slow movements teased and toyed with her yielding flesh. She stood patiently in the center of the carpeted living room as Pat opened her slacks and eased them down to her knees, feeling the moisture seep out into the crotch of her sheer black panties when Pat's beautiful face approached within inches of the spot. Secretly, she hoped the fragrance emitted from her panting well of passion would spark Pat to tear off her panties and gobble up the oozing girl-flux. She knew she would, if their positions were reversed. But Pat simply straightened up again and looked deep into her eyes. Lorna felt her panties sliding down over her hips, with Pat bending before her as she slipped the garment to the floor.

"You're driving me nuts," Lorna breathed in desperation, watching the corners of Pat's mouth curl into a knowing smile. "Don't tease me, Pat! Eat me! Lick my cunt, baby! I need your tongue! Oh! I need it!"

But Pat paid no attention to Lorna's pleas. She only saw her innocent Karen stripped naked before her and told herself she mustn't rush the girl. It might frighten her. Then smiling into Lorna's pleading eyes, she once again fondled her large breasts, this time bringing the tip of her tongue to the quivering nipples, licking both before sucking the breast-meat into her mouth. At the same time she fed the tit into her mouth, her other hand slid over the girl's hip to fondle the larger globes in back. As her mouth made slurping, sucking sounds on Lorna's breast, Pat's finger toured the deep crevice in the rear, searching for, then finding the sucked-in hole there. With a circling motion of her fingertip, she coaxed the anus to pucker and sip at her finger, then gently eased it into the hot dry tunnel.

"I wanna come!" Lorna cried. "Finger my cit, damn it! Help me! I gotta come!"

"There, there," Pat whispered, releasing her breast from the steaming heat of her mouth. "If you like my finger, love, you'll love my tongue. Now kneel down like a good girl and let me tongue that tight little asshole."

"Never mind my asshole," Lorna panted, but obeying Pat's request to kneel. "I need it in my cunt!"

Still paying no attention to Lorna's demands, Pat slipped behind her, keeping her finger deeply seated in the girl's rectum until she positioned herself in a kneeling position between Lorna's legs. Then she carefully unscrewed her finger from the sucking tunnel and spread the twin globes of flesh apart, placing her open mouth over the little bud, sucking it and teasing it with the tip of her tongue. She backed away enough to look at the blinking eye, moist now with her own saliva, and suddenly swooped down again, driving her wet tongue up the tight hole.

"Nnnnggghhh!" Lorna screeched, quickly reaching down with her own hand to satisfy the tormented ache of her itching cit. The mere touch of her finger released the orgasm churning inside her. Pat's slippery tongue swirling up her rectum became a delicious treat now that her juices were flushing freely.

Pat was delighted with the reaction the girl in her fantasy was showing and decided it was time to taste the forbidden fruit. Certainly Karen wouldn't object to having her cunt licked now, she thought, withdrawing her tongue from the depths of the tight hole. She lowered her mouth slightly, her nose buried now in the crease of those pillows of flesh, and licked at the tender lips of Lorna's weeping pussy.

Karen. My Karen… Pat heard herself calling. But a safety mechanism in her brain kept her from saying the name out loud. Mmmmm… sweet, delicious nectar, my love… Her mind was consumed with the fantasy and she was unware that Lorna had maneuvered herself over on her back, while Pat's tongue dipped feverishly into her well of passion to lick away the joy-juice as fast as it seeped from the innermost walls.

Still in a dream-like trance, Pat submitted willingly when Lorna began stripping her clothes off. Yes, yes, she encouraged the girl silently. Now you must drink from my fountain… suck on my tits, you lovely thing… mmmmm… your mouth is so warm and eager to eat all of me. When she opened her eyes, blond hair was cascading down her stomach and the hot, open mouth was sucking at the sopping wet entrance to her longing slit. This could very well be Karen, she thought as the fog lifted from her head and she felt the talented tongue flick over and around her swollen cit. She found herself lifting her legs off the floor and bringing her knees back toward her chest to expose everything to the hungry mouth.

"Lick my ass too," she said softly and Lorna immediately went to the task. "Mmmmm… that's good."

It was no longer necessary for Pat to fantasize. She had satisfied her present lust to seduce an innocent girl by pretending Lorna was Karen. Now her only thought was the sensations she could bring to her own tingling body with Lorna's eager mouth. All during the time she was feeling and licking at the other girl's body, she could imagine how it felt and was tormented by the sensations it brought to her own body. She knew it took a girl to make love to another girl, because only a girl knows what the other is experiencing and what to do to heighten the pleasure. And now she knew the thoughts and tastes that Lorna was having at the ultra sensitive openings to her body. This, too, increased the pleasure of it.

Pat took a deep breath to contain the delight the tip of Lorna's tongue was delivering to her anus. No matter how many times you do it, she thought, there's always a moment of nagging uncertainty as to whether or not you want to stick your tongue into that forbidden, dark hole. Lorna was at that point now, Pat knew. The suspense was unbearable and she found herself working the muscles of that elastic ring in an attempt to capture the slippery serpent.

"AHHHIIH!" she cried out when Lorna's tongue finally snaked into the hot, dry tunnel. Pat's whole body seemed to focus now on the sensitive walls of that small hole and the sensations created by the wet, twisting meat of Lorna's tongue. It was breathtaking. "OH! BABY!" she gasped, when, at precisely the right moment, Lorna's finger slithered deep into her mushy cunt. The pent-up tide of her orgasm suddenly gushed out, her body jerked and convulsed, making it impossible for Lorna to keep her tongue in the sucking hole in back.

Pat's second orgasm came when Lorna's tongue replaced her finger in the drenched cave of her sex. She screamed at the feel of it spiraling up and up, deeper and deeper into her belly. She squeezed and sucked at the invading tongue, delivering a flush of girl-flux that seemed to drain everything from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. The insatiable tongue swept it all away and continued licking at the inner walls long after there was nothing left to retrieve.

Pat slumped to a mass of motionless flesh. The carpeted floor seemed hard and uncomfortable now, but she was too exhausted to do anything about it. When her breathing returned to normal, she slowly opened her eyes and stared with surprise into the bushy triangle of hair between Lorna's legs. The girl was kneeling in a straddled position over Pat's face now and beyond the protruding mounds of the girl's full breasts, she could see the grin on Lorna's face.

"I could come just looking at your beautiful face between my legs," Lorna breathed in a soft voice. "And if you're too tired to eat me, baby, just focus those gorgeous eyes on my aching meat and I'll come by myself."

"Mmmmmm… I'd like that," Pat purred back.

Lorna reached down with both hands and gently spread the moist, pink vagina-lips. "There, baby. Look into the heart of me… all hot and mushy in there because of you."

"It smells so sweet and delicious," Pat sighed as Lorna began to finger the steaming-hot mouth.

"Blow on it, love. Let me see you pucker those lips… ohhhh… yes… blow on it…"

Pat could see the girl was arriving at the peak of excitement and waited until Lorna closed her eyes before saying, "I've got to eat you, love! I want it! I need it!" With that she reached up with both hands and pulled Lorna down by the hips onto her open mouth and anxious tongue.

Now Pat rose to her feet without breaking the communication of their eyes. "Karen!" she said, her voice immediately blotted up by the unintelligible droning in the room. She crossed the distance to Karen without a word of excuse to her companion.

"Hello, Pat," Karen whispered, trying to smile.

"Hello, baby," Pat's smile was intimate and very welcoming. She had come! Pat suppressed a triumphant grin.

"I… I wanted to talk to you, Pat. But if you're busy…"

"Busy?" Pat wrinkled her forehead, then understood as she caught Karen's eyes on Lorna. "Oh, no, not at all. She's… just a girl."

"And me?" Karen heard herself ask breathlessly.

"Don't ask me that, baby. Not now. Not yet…" Pat took Karen's hands and led her over towards the central table.

The words had set Karen trembling inside. She was glad she didn't have to talk just yet.

"Lorna, this is Karen." Pat frowned significantly at the blonde. "Karen wanted to talk to me."

Lorna got the broad hint. She sighed dramatically, but, not wishing to encourage Pat's displeasure, she got to her feet immediately. No one else ever gave her what Pat did. Pat was the best. "I've got to split, anyway." She couldn't quite bring herself to tell Karen that it was nice meeting her. "See you again soon, Pat?"

"See you, Lorna." She didn't bother hiding her impatience. When Lorna was out of hearing range, Pat caught Karen's hand in her own across the table. "I can't be with you long now, baby. I've got a date tonight, I'm sorry to say."

"A date?" Karen automatically tried to withdraw her hand from Pat's grasp, but Pat held her tightly, smiling at Karen's unconscious display of jealousy.

"With a man, baby! For money! It's a bore, but it has to be done."

"I wanted to see you, Pat. I had to see you. I couldn't sleep last night… I… I even came down here, in the middle of the night, looking for you." Karen blushed cherry-red from her confession. She shut her eyes tight, forcing herself to say what she felt she had to, before she changed her mind and said nothing at all. She spoke quietly, raising her voice only enough to make herself heard over the din. "I don't know why, though," she said, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean, I don't know what I would want once I found you. I'm afraid… and I don't know why."

"Oh, Karen… baby. There's so much I want to tell you but it must wait. Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you. Trust me." She glanced at the clock, her features hardening. "I have to go now, damn it."

"Yes…" Suddenly Karen remembered Allen and the coffee date she had mentioned. "But I wanted you to come to my house! For coffee! Tonight!"

"I wish I could. Tomorrow? Around eight? I'd like to see where you live. Where you sleep and bathe and eat and… and… and I better get out of here before… before I do something right here and now that you would regret. Not me, of course. I could never do anything to you I would regret, not when I love you the way I do." Pat got to her feet. Her eyes skitted over Karen's face like wet kisses. "Tomorrow night. Okay?"

"Yes." Karen started to get up, too.

Pat waved her back into her seat. "Stay. Have some coffee. Think of me."

She was a woman, like herself! Karen knew it, yet her body obeyed and thrilled to the masculinity that wasn't really masculine, the love that wasn't normal. "Tomorrow," she repeated, unable to manage even a semblance of a smile. It was all too serious, too somber, too wonderful. "At eight. You remember where I live?"

Pat grinned in the boyish way Karen was coming to know so well. "Yes, I remember, baby. I couldn't sleep last night either. So I took a walk… and wound up in front of your house. Sleep well, baby."

Karen watched her walk away. She sat staring at the door long after Pat had vanished through it and on out into the darkness…

Pat tossed her sweat shirt and too-tight jeans on a chair and ran her fingers lazily through her short hair. "Damn!" she hissed, glaring at the walls resentfully. She could be with Karen now! But she had made this date two days ago, and it was too late to back out now. Besides, she needed the money. She still had time before the trick would arrive – enough to take a shower and – she reached down and ran her fingertips over her long, slim legs – take a fast shave. She took pride in her socially unacceptable vocation. Anything she did, she did well, especially if it had anything to do with sex.

Pat looked at the mirror for a long moment. She liked looking at herself in the nude. That was why she had picked up a three-way mirror in a junk store and stuck it on a dresser near her bed. From the right angle, looking just so, she could see herself and whomever she was with, on the bed. Impulsively, Pat moved her hips forward, keeping her balance precariously. Her body touched its mirror image. She looked down at the contact. The idea was crazy… wonderful… everything felt good when she was in a mood like this. Physical sensation, she thought, that was the answer! It freed the mind and delighted the soul.

Once in the shower, the warm water felt fabulous against her tingling skin. The touch of her own fingers soaping the delicate curves of her body increased the anticipation and fanned the flames within. She rinsed herself off quickly. Dripping, she reached for a towel and vigorously rubbed her lean and beautiful body.

A glance over her shoulder at the image in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door caused her to pause and stare. She turned slowly, the towel still clutched to her breasts and faced the mirror. Her left hand moved automatically to her breast and milked the aching desire from it as her right hand slid smoothly over her hip and thigh. Her fingers danced teasingly around her thighs and stomach, stopping above the triangle of damp hair, waiting for the thrills of anticipation to catch up with her. Then she combed her fingers through the matted hair, and a strange, pleasant crawling sensation itched her body, sending shocks of excitement to her brain.

Pat cupped the damp cove between her legs with her palm and it responded by grinding longingly on her hand. Chills ran up her back as her cool buttocks felt the warmth of her fingers that reached between her legs and pressed into her slit. She squeezed the globes of flesh and toured the crevice with a finger, imagining how the man that was about to arrive would be delighted to poke his finger in the little hole there, getting hotter and hotter as she tried to make him stop. Her imagination took over and it was the trick's finger forcing its way into the tight little tunnel.

Her eyes were fixed on the mirror as she dropped the towel and watched an imaginary man make love to her. She was under its spell. Fantasy, mixed with fact, built her up and coaxed the spark in her cove of passion to a flame – craving more and more, faster and faster. Fleeting thoughts of Karen and Lorna raced through her mind as she concentrated on the panting entrance to her sex, her fingers playing tag now with its longing lips.

"See, Karen? Don't my cunt-lips feel moist and delicious?" Pat whispered, keeping her eyes on the reflected image in the mirror as a hand – her own – toyed with the sensitive, pink lips. "They're moist and hot for you my love. Just the sight of you causes my juices to flow freely. And… and… I can feel your juices flowing too, baby. Does the touch of my finger on your sweet-smelling cunt excite you? Mmmmmm… You stick your finger into my aching cunt, while I examine yours."

Excitement and joy began to ooze from Pat's creaming meat with each delicately timed invasion and withdrawal of the experienced digit. One hand roamed the smooth skin from hard, quivering nipples to a gentle exploration in and around her buttocks, while the other remained between her legs to probe and delight. It seemed so real – Karen was fingering her pussy, while she played with Karen's; the free hand belonged to Lorna, sometimes, and sometimes it was the man about to arrive.

"Nnnngggghhhh… You, you are, sooo beautiful, Karen. And… and I told you I would bring delicious new thrills to your body. I can feel your cunt building to a wonderful, delicious climax, baby. Mmmmmm… finger me! Faster, my pet… faster. Your beauty is making me come! Finger-fuck me faster… more… more… MORE!"

Pat's voice rose as her body climbed to the peak of excitement. Her hands moved feverishly, one squeezing harder and harder on her breast, as the other savagely poked the full length of its middle finger in and out of her slit.

"Come, Karen! COME! I want to feel you come on my finger, baby. There, there! Feel me coming on yours? So delicious… so hot… so gooooood! AHHHHHH!"

Pat slowly removed her finger from the depths of her sopping wet slit and smiled at herself in the mirror. The little game was just what she needed, she thought, to put herself in the right mood for a man. Not that she didn't enjoy a man. Pat just hated men. But there were times times even with a man… Perhaps, she told herself with renewed enthusiasm, this man would be one of those times!