Chapter 2
The following day all Diana could think about was the bacchanal she and Hazy and Andrew planned on attending that evening. What would it be like? Was it really legitimate? Or should she say illegitimate? Who would they meet? What would happen But there was no point in spending the day uselessly speculating, so after an early breakfast she went out into the city to do some shopping and casual tripping about with no particular goal in mind. It was a sunny day and she wore a bright lavender strapless sundress, wanting to feel the warmth of the sun on her arms and shoulders. A matching lavender headband binding the waves of dark hair back from her forehead, her nails lavender, a lavender leather choker necklace around her tan throat, she looked especially striking. She strolled down the street from her Telegraph Hill apartment and turned toward Ghirardelli Square (where dwarves lingered), deciding to spend the morning browsing in the complex of shops and boutiques.
The day was warm, people were out in large numbers, both shoppers and tourists, and Diana spent most of the morning wandering from one shop to the next, picking up an English dessert bowl set here, some bars of Spanish Gardenia and French Lavender soap there, and finally deliberating over a sky blue T-shirt illustrated with a gang of reveling nymphs, fauns, sylphs, elves and sprites.
"You like it?" a clerk asked, noticing her appraisal. She was a tall, smiling, red-haired woman wearing a white pants suit with a white rope belt, her eyes blue as topaz, her mouth printed cerise. The glow of her skin was a dark cinammon umber and she smiled at Diana with interest.
"I like the message," Diana said, smiling back at the woman with unreserved enthusiasm.
"Well, I don't think you can knock that," the woman said, and laughed lightly, her eyes merry.
"Nope...."
Diana looked at her and they smiled at each other, a friendliness of mood and manner linking them instantly.
"My name's Tracy," the redhead said.
"Diana," Diana said, and they shook hands briefly, both of them continuing to smile a bit ingenuously.
"I'd love to spin your top, Diana," Tracy said.
The words were so unexpected and so anomalous that it took Diana a few seconds to react to them. But when she'd caught her psychic balance she could only stare back at the redhead in simple dismay, too surprised to show any umbrage.
"I...." She tried to form some sort of response, but was speechless. Spin her top?
"I shouldn't have said that," the redhead apologized at once. She frowned and started to turn away. "I really shouldn't have. Look, I'll find you another clerk."
Diana bit her lower lip, looking at the woman, then shook her head. "No, please, I don't , . ." But her sentence trailed off and they both ended up looking for a long moment into each other's eyes in the tense silence, a sketchy smile shaping the corners of Tracy's mouth, the impudence in her eyes complimenting it.
"You are very bold, aren't you?" Diana asked her, making an effort to sound at least mildly perturbed.
"I'm shameless," Tracy nodded. She smiled. "But I'm quitting on Friday."
"You're a lesbian," Diana said.
"Yes."
"Do I look like a lesbian?" she wanted to know. "You look beautiful, Diana. Just beautiful."
"But not like a lesbian?"
Tracy glanced about now, checking to see that their conversation was private and no other shoppers or clerks were within earshot, surprised that she was suddenly on the defensive.
"Just beautiful," she repeated, blushing slightly now.
Diana waited a full fifteen seconds, staring searchingly into the redhead's eyes, before saying, "You aren't bad yourself, you know."
They kept staring at each other, smiles widening and gazes bright with implication, while the subdued background sounds of the shop continued around them, both their hearts suddenly pounding conspicuously harder than before.
"Break time, I think," Tracy said at last, as if to herself, and she looked across the shop to where another female clerk stood behind a counter where jewelry was displayed. "Breaking, Pammy," she called, and the other woman glanced up and nodded in recognition. Tracy came out from behind her counter, her stride a long fluid lissome feline symphony of motion. In passing, she caught one of Diana's hands in hers and drew the woman quietly along after her, a lazy smile tilting the corners of her mouth upward to the gleam of her teeth. Diana followed unhesitantly.
Outside, the sunlight made Tracy shade her eyes with her free hand, squinting as she looked curiously about, her brow furrowed in concentration. Then she led Diana away from the shops, past a big stone fountain and down the tiers of steps descending toward the bay, past the clusters of tourists passing them on their way up, past a street violinist with his case open on the pavement in front of him, the red velvet lining shining with dimes and quarters, across the street, and onto the lawn that sloped down toward the beach.
"Where are we going?" Diana asked, her voice a dry whisper, her lips suddenly dry, fingertips light and tingling against Tracy's touch.
"Where I can eat you, starling," Tracy said softly, smiling back at her lasciviously over her shoulder. "And you can do whatever you like, too," she added, nodding placidly.
They crossed the patchy lawn and moved down onto the crescent of sandy beach, people thinning out around them as the terrain turned to shore, still walking hand in hand, Diana's golden strap sandals sinking deeply into damp sand that mushed up between her bare toes and squeezed into the shoes under her soles. Walking along the strip of beach, they passed the back of the Maritime Museum, and kept going, heading in the direction of the concrete T pier ahead of them. The pier extended in a gradual arc several hundred yards out into the ocean, low walls bordering its sides, strolling couples and fishermen scattered along the end near the shore but dwindling to a stray individual or two in the distance.
Neither woman spoke, both sensing that to do so would have destroyed some fine subtle erotic balance in this portentous scenario. There were times when words were superfluous, or unnecessary at best, and now was one of them. They were concerned more with style, the style of silence and a growing sense of sensual expectation filling it, giving it its content, the gentle touch of fingertips elucidating it. Enveloped in a conscious silence, they drifted out along the pier past the last of the people, the presence of the ocean asserting itself more as humanity faded. They kept walking until they were completely isolated and Tracy drew Diana to the wall of the pier and they puased there, elbows on the wall, looking out toward the Golden Gate Bridge across the dark water. A light breeze gusted over them, fanning out filaments of orange and raven-black hair around their shoulders, and they glanced sideways at each other, smiling wisely.
"I'm not wearing anything under my dress," Diana said, her words so softly spoken they were almost lost in the wind.
"How very convenient, Diana." Tracy nodded, looking her prey up and down, her gaze hardening a bit as it -edged from the warmth of intimacy toward the heat of desire. Tracy looked around, saw that they were alone, more than a hundred yards beyond the nearest people, a solitary young couple who stood looking out to sea like themselves. She stepped forward and put her mouth to Diana's, her lips curving lushly into a tonguing kiss, their arms coiling about each other's torsos, all the more eager for having lingered their way into the contact. They clung together for a long while in a kiss that was the antithesis of their femininity, roughly masculine and aggressive, then drew slightly apart, looking at each other with a pleased sense of delight.
"Now, let me see...." Tracy murmured, grinning, and she went down on her knees on the pier, unmindful of the film of water there, the fabric of the immaculate pants suit flaring out around her calves and absorbing a chill of wetness. "Don't mind getting a little dirty," she smiled up at Diana, her tone enticing. Then she reached up with both hands and swept the flow of Diana's dress up and further up around the swell of her hips, bunching the thickness of material back around the undercurving slopes of her ass cheeks, and bringing the hem up past her rigid knees. She pushed her face slowly forward, nudging the hem and lifting it higher with the bridge of her nose, her mouth drifting along the bare flesh of supple thighs as the dress was raised. Easing her ass back against the wall, Diana opened herself without restraint to the assault, her breath catching audibly in her throat. The mound of her sex was revealed and she shuddered with sensuous anticipation at the feel of the wind on her thighs, the thrill deepening as she looked down at Tracy's face between her legs. She parted her legs even wider, opening herself more, and the center of her muff lifted upward and outward, the shift of motion unpeeling the folded labia into a gloss of pink. Reaching up with the fingers of one hand, Tracy spread the lips wider, easing back the maroon furls and slipping one finger into the shallow of her channel, the finger probing gently along the length of the slit to arrive at the flushed node of her clitoris. Diana trembled deliciously, her eyes shut, a fevered storm kindling in her flesh. The cries of gulls dinned in her ears, the cool rush of the wind swept over her quavering thighs, and she thrust one hand down around Tracy's slender neck to steady herself.
"Easy," Tracy soothed. She shifted .her knees on the gritty damp floor of the pier and raised her face higher, still tickling the dampening clit with one finger, her eyes inches from the movement of her finger. Diana's hips began to churn in a responsive motion, her hand pulling up against Tracy's head, fingers gripping into the tendons of her neck, and her clit scintillated with flashes of brilliant sensation, her body glowing beneath her dress. An orgasmic rush stormed her senses and she cried out, her body wrenching back and forth at the waist, hair tossing in the salty wind, her hand leaping from Tracy's neck up to her hand, pulling the tenderly marauding finger tighter against the throbbing of her clit Her clit was simmering with tingling heat, the muscles of her ass tightening against the hard pressure of the concrete wall, her long legs flexing, damp sand clinging between her toes as they arched up from her sandals.
Diana sobbed, her heart beating faster, and rushed toward orgasm with open mind and melting body. Her mouth pulled open as her underbelly convulsed, an internal thermal quaking shaking the nether depths of her cunt, shaking her thighs and trembling her legs beneath her. Cascades of electric tremors and shocks of bright heat blasted through her, saturating her senses, blanking her mind. She groaned, and her shoulders arched way out over the wall of the pier, her hair spilling like a dark curtain down toward the water, the muscles of her back aching with the strain.
Replacing her finger with her tongue, Tracy abruptly altered the manner of her approach. She bent forward and moved her lips against the ovoid flanges of Diana's cunt, nibbling gently into the liquory interior and into the interlining aflood with cream. A mucid ooze overflowed the bright embrasure and she lapped her tongue against it, wanting it all, her tongue sliding the length of the wet slit while her nostrils filled with oceanic scent.
"Ohhhhh," Diana moaned, "ohhhhhhh, yeah, that's-ohhhhhhh," she caroled, coming, coming, blissfully coming, her heart pounding chaotically and hips twitching with a rolling intensity against the impact of Tracy's tongue. The pleasure was too great to endure, it was stronger than she was, infinitely stronger, and she gave up all resistance to it, a spray of salt water misting her face as her shoulders slumped and her body sagged lethargically against the wall and away from the incursion of Tracy's mouth. Her feet gave out from under her and she settled down on the wet floor of the pier with sprawled legs, her dress blossoming out around her, Tracy's lips spinning away.
"Ummmmmm," Tracy cooed with a catty little smile, and her eyes narrowed with satisfaction, both of them staring at each other, their clothing soiled and their hands braced against the cold dampness.
"You dance divinely," Diana replied, a mood of lightness overtaking her now that her emotions were momentarily exhausted, the energies of her flesh ebbing into mellow contentment.
"We're a mess," Tracy noticed, wrinkling her nose at the muddy legs of her pants suit and Diana's dress folded unkemptly underneath her. "But I guess you can't make an omelet without breaking any eggs."
"Or a leg," Diana said, and smiled, shading her eyes with one hand against the glare of the sun so she could see Tracy more clearly.
They sat smiling at each other for a while, all desire for the moment satisfied, basking drowsily in the afterglow of their pleasure, then Tracy extended one arm before her, her hand stretched out toward Diana. Her palm was plastered with murky water, the spaces between her fingers intersticed with muddy droplets. Reaching forward, she touched her fingers along the underside of Diana's jaw, turning her face until their gazes were joined pointblank, her palm nestling Diana's chin.
"Are you going to return my favor?" Tracy asked, and she withdrew her hand, leaving the whole front of Diana's chin streaked with rills of lackluster water.
"Of course," Diana breathed, nodding somnolently. "Merely polite to return a favor."
"You look beautiful with a little dirt on your face," Tracy told her, and she seized Diana with spontaneous passion, kissing her with even greater force than before. Their tongues blended and wove together with the shared taste of mudwater and saliva and they held each other with conviction and purpose, drawing apart only very slowly.
"What a day this has been," Didna said after a while, with a kind of detached bemusement.
"What a rare mood I'm in," Tracy answered, misty, foundering senses drifting all around the wreckage of her libido.
"It's almost like being...."...." in love...."
They sat staring into each other's eyes with pleasant tranquil smiles, contemplating each other's joy. Then Diana made a move. She scooted forward, pulling the naked press of her buttocks slidingly along the rough cold wetness of the concrete, soiling and fouling her dress. Her hands slid up around Tracy's waist, one of them bracing her abdomen while the other unzipped the white pants, and she shucked the pants down around Tracy's hips, tugging them down over the upper halves of her thighs, as far as she could with the redhead facing her in an oblique forward-leaning posture. The vale between Tracy's thighs was exposed but her cunt was still only indistinctly visible, a fleecy thickness of rusty curls covering the vermilion domain.
"Anything special you'd like?" Diana asked, licking her lips in readiness.
"Lots," Tracy said, nodding her head, smiling, "yeah ... but-" Her smile brightened and she met Diana's eyes. "But I think you should use your imagination," she concluded.
The challenge in her tone filled Diana with a sudden burgeoning of arousal. Yes, she thought, my imagination. Still sitting precisely opposite Tracy, she whirled the hem of her dress back over her knees, turning herself partially sideways and stretching one leg all the way out in front of herself, pausing then long enough to reach out and unstrap her sandal. She put the sandal aside and eased the long, perfectly shaped leg all the way forward beyond the lowered top of Tracy's pants and between her thighs. The little crescents of sand covering the insides of Diana's toes oozed and slid off, the granular wetness gleaming on the amber flesh of Tracy's abdomen, and she moved her foot lower into the shadowy juncture where the warmth of Tracy's pussy lurked. Tracy shook with a keen erotic chill as the pads of Diana's toes touched her, curling into the into the luxuriant curly mass of her muff, and then her breath caught in a sharply inhaled rush in her throat as the toes snagged along the ragged edges of her crevice, enlivening her with a burst of excitement.
"Gonna hitch hike to nirvana," Diana said, and she dipped her big toe dextrously into the damp sheath of the redhead's cunt, turning her foot sideways and easing the whole toe as well as most of the next deep into the stickiness of cunt, wriggling her toes playfully to set off some sort of reaction.
Tracy sighed like a clubbed animal. Fading sideways, her hands, palms down, gripping the concrete, she turned very gradually with the turning of Diana's foot and her cunt rippled open around the vented toes, the toes debouching abruptly. Flecks of sand and swirled cunt cream glistened on them. Tracy's eyes shone. She caught the foot in both of her hands, brought it up to her mouth, and bent forward, laving the toes with her tongue, weaving the soft pink pad between all of the spaces between the toes and nicking up the tasty grains of sand there, tasting the toes, the seawater, the residual brine of her own juice.
Then she lowered the foot back down between her thighs, positioning the big toe against the smoldering ember of her clit, pulling it toward and against her. Her clit throbbed insistently, the toe prodded against it, massaging, and she let out a brisk half-choked cry of startled pleasure.
"Baby," Diana soothed, her calf twisting, her toe tautly twisting the clitoral bud with the softest of pressures. She began to swab her toe back and forth, sweeping the dampening clit with it, stroking, and an extravagant smile broke over her face as the rhythm built, Tracy grabbing her foot and ankle fiercely in the vise of her thighs.
"Going to come?" Diana coaxed, her voice a whisper, "goin' come, honey, come, come, come on...." Her toe flashed back and forth across the pearly pinkness of clit with increasing speed, stoking flames and spreading heat while the cuntlips mouthed open into a glossy splay just below, the fissure of Tracy's asshole twisting inward. Diana dropped her foot a bit, dragging the big toe directly through the plush gulf of cunt, lowering it down past the base of the slit, then snugging it forward again. Softness of toe hunted muscular tightness of asshole. Diana kept her closely on Tracy, who looked back at her with eyes vibrant with feline sensitivity, a warmth of affection flowing like an electrical charge between them.
Tracy was spacy with pleasure. Her head lolled, her shoulders slumped, and she melted inward upon herself, thrusting forward in the same moment to sink the salient tip of Diana's toe into her asshole. The smooth muscular grip caught the toe, hauled it in, all the way, and she purred like a cat, feeling the pads of the four remaining toes braced against the sleek inside of her thigh.
"You're a gourmet, aren't you?" Tracy asked Diana, leering warmly as lush new feelings and sensations began to irradiate her mind, struck off sparks by the willful pressing of the toe in her asshole. The sensations were overwhelming, consuming in their intensity, lightening her mind and slackening her body, and she gave in wholly to them, not thinking or caring about anything else.
"I love to eat good things, yet," Diana said after several seconds, still turning the beautiful redhead on the tip of her toe, spinning her like a metaphysical ballet dancer off into an alternate universe of thought an feeling. She stopped, then, withdrew her toe suddenly, and folded her calf back under her body, leaning forward to reassert her presence before Tracy could absorb the withdrawal. "Lie back," she ordered firmly, her fingers pushing, and Tracy obeyed, stretching herself back and down without a second thought about her clothing. If anything, the likelihood of getting dirtier roused her even more; she didn't care. All that mattered in the world now was the divinely lurid little drama she was starring in.
Diana's fingers molding her hips, Tracy writhed on the grimy, watery pier like a drugged wet lioness on her back, her orange mane tossing, her head pressing back, teeth bared in a feral grimace.
"A gourmet," Diana breathed, and her mouth moved tp the feast, up past the pants snagged around Tracy's knees, into the lovely territory. But it was not an entree she wanted now; a smorgasbord seemed much nicer, so she tempered her excitement, easing her face up from the sensual succulence. She untied the belt around the waist of the tunic and thrust her face under the fabric and against Tracy's flesh. Her lips, grazing, roamed across Tracy's abdomen, her tongue rimming the recessed navel, rising across the ridged expanse of her rib cage and around the soft width of a breast, the loose fabric of the tunic tightening against the back of her head as she shoved her face into the acrid, stifled warmth of armpit. "Yeah," Diana moaned, and her tongue probed the sweated stubble there, the crease widening for her as Tracy flexed her upper arm outward to give her more latitude.
"Ahhhhhhhh," Tracy shuddered, her cry rising into a mellow sigh of pleasure. Her arm jacked open and she angled her shoulder, offering the dusky privacy of her armpit to the stirring touch of Diana's tongue. The axillary hair flavored with the musky incense of Tracy's sweat enriched Diana's mouth, and she licked harder, more indulgently, her nostrils swimming with female scent.
Her pace accelerated by the sound of Tracy's moans, Diana slid the tunic up over her head and lifted her face, unhindered, to Tracy's, lowering the fabric again over the woman's breasts. Their mouths met, and tongues intersected, softly licking, saliva flowing from one mouth to the other, spittle passing like liquid gems from tongue to tongue, igniting taste buds, glutting their minds with inexpressibly overpowering carnality.
Tracy was the one to call it quits, finally. She rose away from Diana's avid mouth with the drunken elegance of a tired swimmer floundering onto a beach, and for the next few seconds she lay there on her side, breath churning between her parted lips, her heart pounding with rapid beats.
"You're all muddy," Diana said after Tracy seemed to have returned to her senses. "Too dirty to go back to work, aren't you, Tracy?" Her hands moved delicately to the besmirched pants suit, touching muddy wet spots all over the pants and tunic, her lips forming a little smile.
"Maybe I am," Tracy said, looking down at herself with mildly surprised realization. "But it was certainly worth it, I know that."
"I think so, too."
"You're quite a customer," Tracy said. "Not the average run-of-the-mill customer, by any means."
"And you're some sales clerk."
They exchanged a brief, commemorative kiss, then Diana helped Tracy pull her pants back up, zipping them, and stood brushing at the dirty patches on the pants and on her own dress. When she finished, they walked a short distance further out on the pier, silently, then moved to the wall and stood there side by side, looking out over the bay.
"I don't often make friends quite this easily," Tracy said, the tone of her voice indicating that what had just happened was an exceptional rather than an ordinary event.
"Yeah, me, too," Diana nodded, smiling at her intently.
"I'd like to see you again, Diana," Tracy said softly, without taking her eyes from the bay. "Yeah, me, too...."
Tracy turned her head, smiling at Diana. "Say, Diana, how'd you like to go to a party?"
"A party?"
"Yeah. Look...." Tracy reached into her pants pocket, pulling out a card and giving it to Diana, who glanced at it with interest, then chuckled suddenly as she recognized the familiar invitation:
A Bacchanal
1 Free Pass
Admits Three
June 2, 1977
"Hey, I've got one of these-I mean my girl friend has!" Diana exclaimed, grinning at Tracy. "You got this in the Square, right? Same place as Hazy got hers."
"You mean-you're already planning on going?" Tracy asked, surprised by the odd coincidence.
"Sure, a couple of friends and I. But we're really in the dark about this. Are you, too, Tracy?"
Tracy shrugged. "A dwarf invited me to an orgy, that's all I know. But my curiosity would never let me pass this one up."
"We are an awfully lot alike, then, aren't we, Trace?" Diana said, and stepped a little closer to the statuesque redhead, clasping her hand in hers and holding it against the front of her dress.
She had found someone special, she was sure. Introducing her to Hazy and Andrew and all of them attending the party gave every promise of being an occasion to remember.