Chapter 3
Hazy and Andrew showed up at a quarter to seven, Andrew wearing a plaid pink linen suit with black tie, Hazy a jade-green hooded dress, green stones sparkling in a semicircle around the apricot tan column of her throat.
"How nice we all look for people who intend to undress before long," Hazy observed, going to the liquor cabinet and pouring herself a shot of whiskey. She downed it with one toss.
"Or hope to, anyway," Diana said. "You brought that card, didn't you?" she asked Hazy.
"Of course, darling."
"Well, speaking of cards, that one seems to really get around."
"What does that mean?" Andrew asked. He and Hazy could both see that Diana was eager to tell them something, and they looked at her inquisitively.
Diana told the story of her afternoon, adding the part about Tracy's encounter with the dwarf at the end, grinning as their expressions became fascinated.
"And she's going to be on the scene tonight?" Hazy said, interest more than a little piqued by that aspect of the story.
"Said she would."
"Well," Andrew said, looking at both of them, considering, "I guess it pays to hang out in Ghirardelli Square."
Before leaving they all had a drink together, Diana proposing a toast to a successful evening, and finally Hazy nodded at the clock on a book shelf, suggesting that it was time to go.
Andrew, who owned an MG Midget, pointed out that it would be a tight fit for the three of them, but the women dismissed his remark with sly smiles, and he smiled, too, realizing that neither of them minded a bit spending a little time on the lap of a lover: the idea of discomfort didn't apply.
With Andrew driving, Diana wedged firmly but gingerly at an angle between Hazy's spread legs, they set out. A pale, silvery, summery moon hung like a grand lantern in the sky above the city, but it was cooler than it looked, the ocean brewing fitful breezes that stirred across the bay and over the city.
Andrew drove down Telegraph past Washington Square and over to Union Street, following it through quiet neighborhoods of closely crowded apartment buildings across Van Ness where it metamorphosed into a glittery, tree-lined thoroughfare of fashionable bars and restaurants, antique shops and art galleries. Further along, Pacific Heights began, the blocks acquiring a broader sense of space and an appearance of stateliness as the buildings became fewer and larger, whole blocks dominated by two or three houses. The architecture was eclectic: there were peak-roofed imitation European chalets, ancient somber fortresses of red brick and stained glass, long low characterless modern duplexes, and a preponderance of towering mansions of Gothic, colonial, and Victorian design, many of them as much as a century old but all carefully restored and freshly painted so their facades shone with a distinct look of newness.
Andrew found the house they were looking for: a three-story Victorian palace as ornate as French pastry. It was surrounded by a low stone wall with a wrought iron fence that opened onto a flagstone path leading up to the entrance. The windows both upstairs and down were softly lighted and the sound of music could be heard distantly from within.
"Ravel's Bolero," Diana said, placing the music.
"Wonder if they'll get into rock," Hazy said. "Something you can dance to."
"'Heat Dreams' by Golden Bluebird," Diana laughed, snapping her fingers. "Yeah. Well, we'll see. But there's more than one way to dance, Haze...."
Andrew glided the car past the house, looking for a parking space. The streets, they all noticed, seemed to harbor an unusual number of impressive cars: two Rolls Royce Corniches (with personalized license plates reading TRICK and TREAT), a 1933 Duesenbert SJ, a couple of Cadillac Eldorados, and a number of foreign sports cars.
Andrew found a parking space around the corner, and when he shut off the engine, they all looked at each other hesitantly in a moment of silence.
"Anybody feeling butterflies?" Hazy asked.
"It looks like it could be the real thing," Diana said with excitement in her voice. "It's no sharecropper's spread, that's for sure."
"So does anybody want to smoke a number first-or shall we just get moving?" Andrew wanted to know, looking at both of them for a decision.
"Number," Hazy said.
"Number," Diana seconded, nodding.
Andrew lighted a cigarette and they smoked it in the car without speaking, a nervous eagerness evident in each one's expression. When it was a roach, Hazy flipped it out the car window. "Time's a wast-in'," she announced.
Andrew, nodding, got out, opened the door for the women, locked the car behind them, and they headed toward the house, three abreast.
"I feel kind of like Dorothy on that yellow brick road," Diana confessed when they stood on the porch in the dim light of an orange overhead globe.
"I just hope it's like Oz in there but with a minimum number of witches and those weird flying monkies," Hazy replied. She rang the doorbell while Diana and Andrew looked on.
The door was opened by a young girl who looked no older than eighteen or nineteen. She had a vivid pretty face, with bright friendly eyes and a convivial smile, silky-soft auburn hair falling in wavy tumbled drifts around her shoulders, and was wearing pre-faded levis, a dusty blue cotton blouse, and a pair of crepe-soled leather sandals. She might have been someone's daughter in a family TV show.
"Hi," she said. "Got your invite?" Hazy gave her the card, trying to see past her into the house.
"Thanks. Come on in. Mingle. Do your thing." The girl stepped aside to admit them, and they entered slowly, looking about, diffident.
Diana smiled jauntily, and asked the girl, "Is there anything we should know? Uh-about procedure or anything?"
"Whatever you want...." The girl smiled, moving away, and was gone, leaving them standing there. They were in a dimly lighted foyer, the music they had heard was coming from a room somewhere off to the right, a flight of stairs was directly ahead. Dark purple and saffron draperies depicting medieval carnivals and masquerades covered the walls and there was a dusky shimmer of candlelight from upstairs and the adjoining rooms.
"The thing seems to be to explore," Diana said, confronting the shadowy horizon of the stairway, glancing back at Hazy and Andrew for agreement.
"It is, of course," a voice answered her, and their eyes were all drawn to a man who seemed to have materialized like a wraith. He was wearing a dark brown velvet three-piece suit and a necklace of brown agates. He was classically and severely handsome in the manner of Eruopean nobility with a cold light in her eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips that might have connoted merriment or cynicism or both. "May I?" he inquired, and he captured Diana's hand in his without waiting for an answer, leading her with a gentle authority toward the stairs, smiling at her, then quickly back at Hazy and Andrew as if he had just cut in on a dance.
"Bye," Diana called back over her shoulder, giving a little shrug, as she allowed herself to be urged up the stairway. "See you later...." She saw Hazy and Andrew's wondering stares fall back, then ascended with a sudden lightness of motion, the man beside her so fluid in his movement that he seemed to be floating about the steps.
"My name is Lyon, Siegfried Lyon," he told her as they reached the first landing, passed a big window of golden and indigo and ruby-red glass, going up the second short flight of steps to the next floor, where they immediately turned into a vast room.
"Diana Summer," Diana said. Her heart was beating rapidly against her breast, a powerful feeling of excitement growing in her. She looked into the room, illumined by candles in high brass fixtures on the walls, parabolic auras of light reflecting upward along the walls, the orange cusps of flame flickering densely. The floor was plushly carpeted and there were a number of antique divans and huge hassocks and pillows all about, as well as hanging wicker baskets nesting small jungles of ferns and trailing vines, exotic orchids and dahlias and dark blue starshaped blooms. As Diana looked on, her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the atmosphere and she began to see with increasing clarity: people in pairs or groups of three were making love and fucking in a variety of inventive combinations. The sounds of their blending moans, sighs, whispers, and labored breathing washed like a murmurous tide through the room. Diana was spellbound. Involuntarily, she started to tighten her hold on her companion's hand, then became aware of an extreme change in shape and texture, something altogether different: he had, it became suddenly apparent, replaced his hand with something else, and now it was his erect cock that she held tentatively in her curving fingers. The hot length of it stirred expansively in her grip, her fingers tightening in reaction and wrapping all the way around the thick staff. Eagerly. She was taken off guard by his temerity but looked him in the eye and matched his dark smile with one of her own.
"If you don't mind...." he whispered under his breath, the words fading into a momentous silence dramatizing his desire.
Diana nodded, an alluring smile turning up the corners of her mouth. Like a sensual supplicant, unthinking, and unconcerned for the moment about thought, she lowered herself to her knees before Lyon, her buttocks settling on the heels of her shoes as she braced the weight of her body on her toes. Her mouth came open, her tongue swishing out and along the upcurving cock, flagrant male scent storming her nostrils. She took the full length of him into her mouth at once and he pushed forward to make it easier. Inside her mouth his cock turned on her tongue, her tongue rolling under it, caressing, the interplay of tongue and shifting cock reducing hoth of them to a spontaneous hypnotic passion.
A tremor of closed eyelids touched off a fountain of celestial light in the dark of Diana's mind. Sucking, she leaned forward with robust determination, sucking, sucking cock, her mind drenched with incandescent light, tongue stroking, oblivious suddenly to everything in the universe except the warmth of cock and taste of cock. A bead of warm juice graced her tongue as she sucked avidly and she loosed a low, keening, whimpering sound, swallowing in a rage o excitement.
Lyon's hands swept around the back of Diana' head and he moved himself into a more comfortable proximity with her, his cock angling upward more smoothly into the downward rush and slide of her mouth. Her mouth generated wetness, saliva gathering and accumulating in viscous eddies with the steady stroking of her tongue, a stray trickle leaking out over the pad of her lower lip. Her hands, grasping the material of his pants at the level of his knees pulled him toward her, and she soared forward with empyrean intensity, giving herself, giving.
It was the touch of another hand that made her slacken her pace and change her tempo. Another hand was touching her cheek and brushing back a tickling wisp of her hair, fingers rested lightly on her forehead. She opened her eyes with great effort, still sucking, and saw dimly out of the corner of her eye another woman, crouched beside her, watching her, wanting to join in. Diana moaned, tremors of pleasure quaking her body and trembling breasts She acted on instinct. The cock, relinquished slipped away from the pull of her lips, and she turned to kiss the silent intruder, the most intimate kiss she had ever given a total stranger. Both tongues tangled together in a kiss fluent with saliva, exhaled breath churning from mouth to mouth.
Unprepared for the withdrawal of Diana's mouth, Lyon staggered clumsily to one side, prick bobbing and stepped unsteadily between both women. His strength momentarily sapped, with a sharp percussive gasp, he dropped weakly to his knees, hands clutching both of them for support. One hand slipped around the newcomer's waist, his fingers reaching across the pliant slender curve of a bare hip as warm as summery satin, the other anchoring in Diana's cleavage, nearly tearing her dress. He sagged between them and the interruption caused them to terminate their kiss.
Diana, her mind awhirl, drew her face back and for the first time got a clear look at the other woman. Her eyes were a light sea-blue, a shade darker than the blue eyeshadow emphasizing their color, her nose long and straight, her mouth a full-lipped prurient pout. Her face was framed against an extravagance of scalloped jet-black curls in a "natural" style and her body, completely naked except for a sterling silver necklace with a silver wishbone pendant, was slim and petite, her breasts a little too full and large for her physique.
"I think we were kissing," she said with a petulance that matched her pout, and without bothering to look at Lyon, who still clung with one hand to her waist, she thrust her mouth back upon Diana's, resuming the kiss with brusque famished intensity, inhaling Diana's tongue hungrily and tucking her own beneath it to suck tenderly at the velvety damp pad. Diana yielded absolutely, seduced irrevocably by the woman's resolve, and let the kiss launch her into mindless realms, beyond thought, into an ether of pleasant warm contentment.
After a full minute the woman removed her mouth from Diana's, listlessly. A thin filament of saliva glinted on her lower lip, a sequin of spittle decorating the corner of her mouth. Diana reached out exaltedly and touched up the moisture with a forefinger, putting the finger in her own mouth. And suddenly she was no longer concerned with Lyon, not even as an addendum to her sapphic diversion. She tugged his hand free of her cleavage and pulled away, waving him off, turning to the woman.
Lyon gave up and let them go-for the moment. Moving back, he watched with quiet interest as they held hands, smiling at each other with the wide-eyed excitability of experimenting children.
"I want to give you a bracelet," Diana said softly, and, taking the woman's hand, she bent forward and ran the tip of her tongue around the thin wrist, creating a circle of wet light.
"And a necklace," she said. Her face descended to the woman's throat and her tongue swept from side to side like a plush pendulum, underscoring her silver necklace with a film of light that shone like crinkled cellophane.
"An' an anklet," she murmured languidly, and she knelt down, her tongue coiling warmly around the woman's ankle, leaving a dewy circle on the lissome pale gold of her flesh. "Lie down," Diana whispered into the woman's ear, and she helped her down onto her back, the blue eyes meeting her own in the process, a look of blind love passing between them.
"Rings," said Diana huskily. She lifted a limp arm and turned the hand, kissing the copper frosted nails and spiraling circlets of spittle around each finger, kissing the palm and licking the sweaty moisture up, pressing the palm and fingers up along one of her cheeks while she repeated the same loving precess with the other hand. She paused after a bit, her face upside down above the prostrate woman's, their eyes meeting solemnly, both mouths open with tense expectation, and then she lowered her face until her long dark hair swirled like curtains past her cheeks, enveloping both their faces and completely camouflaging the warm erotic rapture of their kiss.
"God," the woman whispered, the single word exploding lightly from her lips. "Oh, God, oh, oh, uh...." The words seemed to catch in her throat, her body electric with fever, with lust, and she twisted on the floor like a drugged tranced beast, her arms wrapping around Diana's waist and propelling her, on her knees, down along her body so that Diana was kneeling with her thighs bracketing the other's head, Diana's lips plowing down into the steamy furrow of her sex. The coral lips of her cunt blossomed around Diana's tongue, the yielding center opening into a pungent redolence and creamy succulence of female brew, and at the same time she reached up, shucking Diana's dress up around her thighs and pulling down the filmy panties, which turned inside out with the crotch band clinging to a cunty glaze in the perineal furrow. The woman yanked at the panties, and suddenly the crotch bank snapped resonantly free, the juicy dark-stained fabric cleaving away from Diana's obstinate labia. Raising her face, lips pursed, the woman kissed the exposed cunt, lips open to the nether lips that opened without a bit of resistance, they were already so wet with the warm nectar seeping up from the deep well of her vagina.
"Suck," the woman gasped assiduously, and the word was lost in the sound of her sucking and Diana's sucking, as they both blitzed each other with primitive ardor, hands gripping soft thighs, cunts oscillating around vigorous mouths.
Changing her style, Diana began licking the woman's cunt, licking ravenously into the florid sprawl and into the humid cove, seeking the same warm liquor she could feel now oozing from her own splay into the mouth below her. The woman changed her approach, too, and abruptly they were both licking each other, tongues traveling the length of silken splits and whipping back again, gliding through sweetening fissures from pearly clit to tart asshole and doubling back, flicking asshole and clit alternately, flippantly, lips crowding, juice streaming. Moans rushed from their throats, their limbs spasming and fingers knotting, toes arching, but they kept at each other with impassioned precision.
Her breath coming in heavy sobs, shaking her body with lewd concussions and rippling aftershocks, Diana reared her ass further backward, taking her tongue for an instant from the brimming well and lining up her own cunt more solidly with the woman's mouth. Her labia divided, widening into the glossy elastic shoal of her sex, the woman's nose veering within, and she sat herself upon the worshipful face with salacious elegance, tightening her thighs around the smooth cheeks, her dress spreading out around her hips and thighs to plunge her lover into a total darkness of velvet fabric and cunt warmth. For a moment, pausing in her own activity, she perched delicately on the woman's face like a queen on a regal pillow, wanting to smother her and enclose her and contain her and immerse her in all the dampness and heat her cunt could produce. But she held back. She didn't want to brutalize her lover. Didn't want to make her uncomfortable. That was not what love was about.
Unclamping her thighs from around the remote face, Diana pulled her knees farther apart on the floor. Her panties were still twisted and stretched to the tearing point between her thighs, inhibiting her movements, so she lifted one leg over the woman's face and moved to one side as if she were dismounting a horse.
She knelt beside her lover, both of them smiling, stricken, wordless, dizzy, amazed and delighted by each other.
"Fabulous," Diana said, simply, touching the woman's lips, still bright with her own nectar. The lips responded by kissing her fingers, as affectionately and automatically as if she were a seasoned lover of hers.
"I don't think we've met," she said to Diana, a smile parting her glistening lips, a look of potent mischief in her eyes.
"I'm Diana," Diana said, returning the smile.
"Cheryl," the woman said.
"Cheryl," Diana repeated, testing the sound of the name.
They were both distracted by a movement off to the side and, looking, saw that Lyon, naked now, sat there regarding them with a semi-tortured expression of thwarted desire, his cock a rigid spar put-sating visibly between his legs.
"Pardon me, Diana," Cheryl said apologetically. She gave Lyon a look Of feigned irritation, indicated her real attitude quickly with a grin, then went to him, pushing his legs apart and whisking his cock between her lips, taking the head far back in her throat and straining her lips down to the very end of the shaft, her lower lip brushing up against the orbs of his balls. She started sucking with an extremity of concentration and eloquence and earnestness that took him altogether by surprise, her tongue skidding and flourishing, lips pulling, and he was so charmed and overwhelmed that he felt the come storm into his cock before more than a minute had passed. His teeth clenched and he gasped, out of breath. His hands slapped out, catching at the floor, which seemed to have become as unstable as the surface of a trampoline, and he groaned as her flourishing tongue brought him up to the very point of release, then tripped him over and into spaces of solar brightness, incredible sensation filling his cock, racing his blood. A geyser of come erupted in Cheryl's mouth, and he reeled with drunken ecstasy, a second jet discharging as she sucked with a smile, her eyes closed tightly and features composed with a look of demonic dignity, more come washing over her tongue and down her throat.
"How's that, good enough?" she asked, sitting upright and blinking her eyes open, her balmy smile releasing a trickle of come that ran down her chin and spilled into the copper-dark vale between her large breasts.
Lyon answered her question with an enfeebled nod, too wasted for the moment to manage any vocal response. He glanced down at his quenched cock, still bobbing buoyantly on the rebound from Cheryl's expert mouth, a final thick droplet of pearly come squeezing from the slit in its tip, then his eyes sought Diana's, his mouth forming a jaded smile as she smiled at him with ceremonial pleasantness.
"Pardon," Diana said very casually and she punctuated the word with a short chuckle, cutting that off as she bent forward and took the already deflating shaft of Lyon's cock into her mouth, the fingers of one hand curling around it to milk one last drop of come onto her tongue. She scooped it up and, paying no further attention to Lyon, turned back to Cheryl with her tongue pinkly extended with the lactescent offering. Cheryl grinned spiritedly and poked her own tongue out, its tip touching Diana's, both their faces blandly contented, eyes shut and mouths smiling around projected tongues, the rich droplet of precious come melting in the pink junture.
Diana opened her eyes again when she felt Cheryl's tongue retract, ending the mellow tasteful soft contact, and she found herself staring directly into Cheryl's eyes, a deep feeling of heady intemperance lightening her mind and muting her heartbeat. She felt as if she had just regained the surface of a warm sea in which she had been swimming underwater for long minutes.
"Good, Diana, you're beautifully good," Cheryl said in a thick voice, nodding, an expression of lyrical satisfaction warming her gaze. She took a huge breath, exhaled it, gave her head a little pleasant lulling shake to jolt her marauded consciousness, then took Diana's hand in hers in a more or less sisterly fashion. "Want to explore with me?" she asked.
Diana asked, "Explore?"
"Yeah. You know. Look around the house. See what we can find."
"I want to, of course," Diana said eagerly, pleased that Cheryl didn't want to abandon her for someone else.
"You're beautiful," Cheryl said again, impulsively, and the smile that followed the remark made it obvious that she had enjoyed more than an ordinary amount of gratification with Diana.
"You're sweet," Diana told her, touching one of her rigid nipples, the pinkish halo moist with sweat.
Cheryl gave her an imploring look.
"Sure," Diana answered, "sure...." She put her mouth around the nipple and sucked the whole tip of the tit into her mouth, suckling with a happy smile. Cheryl winced with pleasure, warmth filling her swollen tit, her face flushing, eyelashes batting, and she took Diana into her arms with sudden tenderness and anxiety, smoothing her hair with one hand while Diana sucked and suckled, with vitality, greedily impatient.
They continued like that for another minute or two, then Cheryl slipped her fingers around the underside of her suckled tit, and eased the nipple from Diana's mouth.
"Let's go see what we can find," Cheryl said, and helped Diana get to her feet.
Hand in hand, they left the room, not even taking time to glance at Lyon in passing now that they had found each other. Let's go upstairs," Diana said, nodding toward the stairway. "Okay?"
"By me," Cheryl concluded, smiling agreeably. "Sure, c'mon." Her hand tightened around Diana's and they ascended slowly, looking like two ingenues in a haunted mansion.
"How long have you been here?" Diana asked, her eyes scanning the gloomy dark elevation looming ahead; it was darker here in the absence of any candles along the stairway.
"Half an hour or so." Cheryl shrugged. "Not long. I came with a girl friend. Modiste. Maybe we'll see her." Her hand squeezed Diana's more tightly. "You like chocolate, Diana? Maybe we could make a sundae...."
"Chocolate?" Diana asked, puzzled for a few seconds, then realizing that Cheryl was talking about a black woman. "Oh, yes, I think I'd love that," she added hurriedly.
Halfway up the flight of stairs Diana's foot encountered something palpable in the darkness and she drew abruptly back, an "oh" of surprise parting her lips, Cheryl coming to a stop beside her.
"Excuse me," Diana said hastily, discerning vaguely the pale shape of a presence (someone naked, her mind informed her at once) on the stairway.
"Never mind," a voice said dismissively just as quickly, and the person stood up before them. "I was just taking a breather."
Her eyes fathoming the darkness, Diana saw a tall woman facing her, then saw her more clearly as the woman moved to hold out her hand in introduction: "Hera Yellow Wing," she said in a friendly voice. Diana found herself looking up at the woman, who was easily six feet tall and had the long lean body of a fashion model, small high breasts, and a fashion model's long, narrow, sophisticated face, her long ink-black hair drawn sleekly and smoothly back over the top of her head and bound in a lush pile above the back of her neck. She was wearing only a pair of earrings, crystal stars fixed in her lobes, and in the dim light they seemed almost phosphorescent, accenting her somewhat voluptuous smile.
"I'm Diana, this is Cheryl," Diana said, touching Cheryl's arm. They both smiled at Hera, their smiles warming with a growing awareness of the woman's imposing size and extreme beauty.
"You must be warm," Hera said to Diana, referring with a nod to the dress she still wore, her smile garnishing her stately features with a touch of mischief. "Or modest, perhaps?"
"Hardly modest," Cheryl affirmed.
"Hey, I just got here minutes ago," Diana explained. "We were going to go upstairs and have a look around. Is that where you're coming from?"
"Want a companion?" Hera asked, ignoring the question. She looked from Diana to Cheryl and back again, a sense of bawdy implication narrowing her eyes.
Diana glanced at Cheryl. "I don't mind, if you don't, Cheryl?"
"Two's company, three's allowed," Cheryl smiled, looking up at Hera, accepting the suggestion without a moment of deliberation.
Diana said, "Yellow Wing? That's pretty. Is it Indian?"
"I am mostly Comanche, with a bit of Apache and a good deal of Sicilian cat burglar and Greek demimonde in my blood," Hera said.
"You look very familiar, too," Cheryl noticed, studying Hera more closely.
"Vogue," Hera said. "French edition. Of maybe Le Monde or one of those. Although I'm not that well known yet, I thought. No cover shots." She was obviously pleased and flattered by Cheryl's recognition.
"Sure, I've seen you in a magazine," Cheryl said, remembering. "That spread with all the models on top of different skyscrapers. Saw it at my hairdresser's. My God, you stood out like emeralds in a coal bin."
"Well...." Hera savored the compliment for a contemplative moment before saying bluntly, "Mind if I kiss you, Cheryl?"
"Mind?" Cheryl laughed softly. She cast a quick glance at Diana, then said, "No, 'course not, if you don't mind a little taste of Diana and maybe a little bitty taste of semen...."
"Probably we should all share a little kiss," Hera said, captivated by Cheryl's provocative remark, looking at Diana for some sign of assent.
"Sure," Diana nodded, and stepped forward, drawing Cheryl with her so that they converged at angles on either side of Hera, the heavy sphere of one of Cheryl's tits eclipsing one of Hera's modest orbs, warm flesh joining, one of Diana's large velvet-covered tits pressing up against the other. Their mouths fused in concert with Hera's mouth, Hera's lips parting to receive two synchronous kisses, two tongues flowing luxuriously between her teeth and sweetly against the inner surfaces of her cheeks, her tongue, the roof of her mouth. Hera's tongue flickered impetuously back over both tongues, licking at the women's lips and her hands groped and lifted the underside of Cheryl's bountiful tit, pulling the nipple up so that it brushed with quivering solidity against her own, both nipples springing crinkly erect in their floral circles with the electrification of the contact.
"Divine tit," Hera breathed into the widening welcoming warmth of Cheryl's mouth, her own breast suddenly aflame with tingling sensation, their nipples rubbing deliciously and arousingly together, her other nipple stimulated to stiff sensitive hardness by the well-defined velvety outline of the shape of Diana's breast through the material of her dress.
"I love large breasts." Hera confessed after a long, fluttering sigh, withdrawing after a few seconds from the three-way kiss to get her bearings, out of breath.
Diana, seized by an imperative desire, let her hand trail down to seek Hera's cunt. Her fingers pressed into a liquory wetness and she pressed them further, three fingers sliding into the hot nether gap all the way into the pliant cuntdepths, marshy to the touch. She brought her hand back and held it on a level with her chin, between Hera and Cheryl's faces.
"Share," said Cheryl, taking the hand in hers and turning it toward her. Her gaze became vivacious with delighted astonishment as she saw the slender fingers streaked with milky tendrils of viscid cunt-brew. She pulled the hand to her and inhaled, saline funk thick as heavy incense expanding her nostrils with its sublime odor. "You're a dairy," she whispered into Hera's ear, her tongue licking briefly at the coralline opening, her nose inhaling a lemony scent of hair lotion and sweaty undertone of female flesh.
Hera greeted the comment with a look of passion i so intense it seemed that all mobility and coherence had fled her expression. Her tongue whipped out and she cleaned Diana's fingers, devouring the taste of herself, lust brightening her dark eyes and giving I her face an almost preternatural glow.
Diana could see that it was time for the three of them to go elsewhere, somewhere whey they could lie down and spend some time together, and she was just about to say as much when a voice from the stairs above distracted all of them: "Well, well, if this isn't just a fine, a very fine stroke of luck." Looking up, the three women saw another woman moving with a prowling, hip-rolling finesse down the steps toward them, her body emerging from the upper darkness like a silky apparition.
"Modiste!" Cheryl exclaimed, a happy smile appearing on her lips, her eyes gleaming with recognition as the dark woman glided into their presence.
"Sweet," Modiste said softly, with a nod, acknowledging her, then looked at each of the other women in turn, Diana and Hera, smiling with a cool, fixed, appreciative stare at them. "I was looking for a nice, blue-eyed, straw-pale saffron, and cream-colored teen-ager," she said in a lazy voice, "but you three ladies look very fine to me, very fine in every nice way...."
"I'd say so, too," Hera said, her eyebrows arching with approval at the sight of the new arrival, Diana nodding in agreement beside her. Modiste was completely naked, they saw, wearing nothing more than a small flight of diamond and gold and turquoise and onyx hummingbirds and butterflies on thin golden chains bright against the smooth tan flesh between her broad round tits.
"Come on, girls," she said, smiling at them, then turned and started back up the steps, beckoning to them with a forefinger held out behind her.