Chapter 10
Jill was almost obsessed in the days following by what she had done. The obsession was not a guilty one, however; rather, it gave her a terrific feeling of freedom, and the freedom appeared to make her a new person, or at least someone different from the woman she had been without it.
The next day was Wendy's day off and though she let herself wish she could hear from the girl, she did not, and did not think much of it. She allowed herself to fantasize the girl's other sexual entanglements, but she did this for pleasure because as we have seen, Jill's psychological composition did not include jealousy. If this had been so before she had tried bisexuality, it was even more true now; how could one be sexually monogamous if one was not even bound to one sex for bedroom pleasures?
Thursday, Wendy's next working day, was an easy enough one so that the issue of sex could not be avoided; the older child had that Monday been packed off to summer camp and the baby was at a day care "play group" for the afternoon. Jill had satisfied herself that the house was in order, so she busied herself with reading in the half hour or so before Wendy's scheduled arrival.
Her striped jersey and loose-fitting corduroy trousers made the girl seem somewhat smaller today; the top was not the kind of fabric to which nipples cling, and so even the generous breasts appeared diminished in today's attire. This in turn made the teenager seem even more youthful, but it gave her a peculiar ragamuffin charm that Jill could not ignore.
The smile that Wendy flashed upon entering the home's front room was decidedly innocent, considering what had so recently passed between the girl, her employer, and her employer's brother. She did not sit down and was clearly not going to presume that her relationship with Jill had changed; she was acting as if she were still merely a domestic employee.
"Sit down, dear," Jill said softly and with great friendliness, ready and willing to correct that impression. "Can I get you a drink?" She turned on her toes. "I don't even know if you do drink. Do you?"
Wendy's smile at this point was puzzled and not without mischief. She was considering whether to reveal a secret. "I do... sometimes." She paused; she squinted as she studied Jill's face. "Mrs. Brennan" here she giggled, correcting herself with "Jill"-"Have you ever 'turned on'? "
Jill Brennan greeted the question with an inward shrug. So many new experiences were opening up to her that the implicit admission by her housekeeper-lover that the girl used marijuana was not as great a shock as it would have been before the summer began. Indeed, she said to herself, what could she have expected of a bright, pretty, 'hip' girl in today's youth scene? Abstinence from pot, the nectar of the young, would have been as illogical and atypical as abstinence from sex-which Wendy clearly did not practice.
"No," Jill answered frankly, her excitement betrayed in her manner though she tried to conceal it with her voice.
'Would you like to?"
They had the whole afternoon ahead of them; Chris had driven to Bakersfield for the afternoon to visit a friend attending summer school there. Why should she refrain. "I don't know," she replied, restraining her courage. "Do you think I should?"
"Well, the thing about it is," the girl said, licking the corner of her mouth with her small, clever tongue, "it makes sex feel even better than it does to begin with." She sat back on the couch, relaxing as she waited for Jill's response.
"Well, I guess it's OK, " offered the older woman, and Wendy nodded thoughtfully, looking into Jill's eyes as she blindly drew her purse up on her lap and stuck her hand inside.
From it she withdrew two thin cigarettes-thin for tobacco cigarettes, but quite thick for ones rolled with grass; they would be referred to as "bombers"-wrapped in pinkish cigarette paper. "Cherry-flavored paper," Wendy explained, noticing that Jill was looking strangely at the reefers.
"Can you get me a match? I don't smoke, myself, so I can never remember to keep them with me." In a moment Jill returned from the kitchen with a fresh match book. She sat down beside Wendy while the latter struck the match against the book's slate and lit the twisted tip of the joint. She pulled in, and the tip glowed, but this smoke-being primarily paper-she quickly exhaled without drawing it down her throat
She handed it to Jill. "The best way is to suck some of it into your mouth, then draw in some more pure air and let the air mix with the smoke as you inhale it into your lungs-that way it's cooler."
Jill followed her instructions. She was tense as she waited for "something to happen," as she phrased it to Wendy, asking when the effects would be noticeable. "A couple of minutes, longer, it all depends on the individual; some people don't even get high the first few times. The best thing is just to relax and see what happens. That's the best thing you can do to help yourself."
It was amazing how quickly the cigarette was consumed to ash and Jill would not have known she was stoned unless toward the joint's end she fumbled and burned her thumb and forefinger at their tips. This made her realize quickly that her whole sense of the room and of herself had changed. She was frustrated by what she felt, because the only words she could find to describe it-had she been required to describe it-were the banal ones she had read in a hundred magazine articles on the subject. She felt that she was weightless, that her head might drift off from her body, and yet at the same time the slightest touch on her skin-as when Wendy's elbow brushed her knee as she took the cigarette back for her turn-seemed to be tattooed on her flesh with a branding iron; the "echo" of the contact lasted for moments afterward.
There was something, also of the "wooziness" of liquor. It was for this reason that she almost deferred participation when Wendy lit the second of the two sticks. But since the girl was "leading," she decided to follow upon command.
By the end of the joint she was no longer sure of her balance. "It's nice that we're both high together on the same amount of stuff," Wendy whispered, but the soft small voice might have been coming from across the room, amplified by a microphone. Wendy giggled: "Gee, are my peoples-I mean, pupils-as big as yours are?" The two laughed hysterically, grabbing on to each other's knees to hold their balance. "Peoples!" exclaimed Jill, laughing wildly.
The corners of her eyes were damp; she had laughed almost until tears. She listened as Wendy's lips moved and words poured out as if strung like beads. The girl's lips seemed, however, to be moving independently of the message; it was as though she were an actress in some foreign film and English words had been dubbed. The movement of the lips did not quite match the succession of syllables. "Do you want to go to bed?"
Jill was not quite sure what she wanted to do, but when her housekeeper touched her palms to the employer's knees, a chill went up Jill's thighs and it ended between them; her stomach filled with blood and she sighed audibly as her own breasts rose and fell on her chest, naked beneath the thin blouse she wore.
"Yes," and her throat felt harsh from the grass she'd inhaled. Her tongue tip, however, felt curiously cold as she rolled it-as if testing for sensation-against the roof of her mouth. She traced the insides of her front teeth with the tongue and then smoothed her dry lips with it.
Wendy was the first to rise. She spread out her arms and reached for Jill, then drew the older woman closer to her. They stood facing each other, close but not touching except at their hands. Wendy leaned forward and pressed her open mouth to the side of Jill's neck. The tongue at the very same moment felt like ice and fire on her skin and Jill's spine shivered until the tingle ended at the small of her back.
Wendy led her to her own bedroom and she followed-in tow as if she were a small child. The girl's hands were hooked around her waist as she set Jill down on the foot of the bed. Jill slouched, waiting for her next signal or instruction, but all she had to do for the moment was to watch her young lover undress. Wendy stripped as though the disrobing were itself a sexual act.
First she pulled her top past her tits so the ruby peaks stood out in the middle of creamy slopes of fatty tissue. The undersides of the rounded jugs made a small shadow on her nude diaphragm.
She pulled the waist of the belt-less trousers open and they loosely slid down her legs. Her twat hair clustered thick below the crotch of her panties, blue polka dots on sheer white rayon. She kicked off her tennis shoes which she wore without socks and she lifted her legs out of the cords. She was naked now from the waist up, and her breast flesh quivered as she bent down to remove her underpants. Her palms opened and she rolled the waistband downwards until half the snatch hair was exposed. She lifted one leg and pulled one side down to her knees. She almost touched her fingertips to the floor when she dragged the whole garment to her ankles, then stepped out of it.
"Now I'll help you," she said sweetly to Jill who sat motionless and zombie-like, her legs dangling off the foot of the bed.
Wendy kneeled and unlaced Jill's simple leather shoes. Her right forefinger followed the outer curve of the woman's sole and Jill giggled before Wendy withdrew her finger. "Roll over on the bed, baby," the girl told her and she did as instructed. The teenager's active hands massaged and kneaded the buttocks below Jill's skirt. The dress was short, so the fingers moved under the hem and poked under the rims of the panties, pushing into the crevice between the ass cheeks.
The panties came down off her legs, pulled by Wendy as Jill brought her calves up. She was naked below the waist now, underneath the skirt, and in a moment that had disappeared. "You can turn over again," Wendy told her employer and Jill's breasts rolled underneath a thin blouse that the former quickly unbuttoned down the front. Her impatient fingers, however, could not resist the impulse to spread out on the surface of the jugs while the shirt was as yet on Jill.
When she was fully naked Jill closed her eyes and let her lover's flesh sldm her own nudity. She knew the feel of the sharpened tit as it brushed her arm; she could follow the path of Wendy's twat hair as the girl straddled her thigh and bumped her pussy against it At one moment Jill felt nearly numb, but in the next she was especially sensitive to touch. As if in a dream she pushed her fingertips against Wendy's beaver and found the sweet scented hole.
Her hand made a dive under the pubic arch and her thumb hooked back and pressed the clit until it responded gamely, inflating under the rolling-pin style massage.
Wendy's hands were at the sides of her face and the fingers stroked her ears while the wrists touched her cheeks. "I wish I had a cock so I could fuck you," the girl whispered, "but I can still make love to you." With that she pushed herself down the bed and set her lips to Jill's aperture, still dry. She blew at the clit-blister, then washed it with her tongue; her index played with the outer strands of cunt flesh and finally it moved inside the quim itself, testing the heat and the unlubricated tissue.
She held the cavity open, pulling at the labia from one side while her wrist rested in the hollow of Jill's thigh, and her tongue snaked inside the box. The cunt lining was bitter and salty. Jill cringed in pleasure as Wendy's upper hp (and the teeth below it) jammed against the clitoris and sent a wave of excitement up through the woman's belly.
"Oh, thank you... thank you... yessss...." The words came sizzling from Jill's lips as her hips pumped out a steadily accelerating rhythm, wiping her moistening groin in the bisexual's face.
Wendy teased her by holding back the pressure of the tongue, removing it from the vagina and letting it slide through the hair down the arc, almost reaching the anus but stopping where the hair stopped and then drawing back. Jill's legs kicked up and out; the energy that coursed through her body was like electric current that had to send off sparks at her limbs.
Wendy understood perfectly the needs of the older woman. Softly she caressed Jill's boobs while rather harshly sucking her off. The ends of the tits were like nails pressing into the centers of Wendy's palms. The boob-flesh itself moved easily, like jello. Her thumbs stroked the shaded undersides and Jill brought her hips up off the bed in time to the beat of the teenager's tongue which pierced the nerves of the clit like a spike.
But Jill was not selfish. She reached between Wendy's thin legs and touched the source. Her index and forefinger slipped inside the started to finger-fuck the hole. At first the manipulations were simple. After the first half-dozen or so movements Jill instinctively varied the tempo; the walls by that time were already soggy with cunt moisture. When the fingers were covered inside the snatch to the first knuckle, she jabbed forward. Rather than hurting Wendy, the girl appeared to love it and she even rolled her pelvis from side to side to accommodate the full strength of the second-stage thrust.
Breathlessly, the girl put her lips to Jill's as though she wanted to exchange a kiss, but instead she spoke, softly. "Do you have something like a hairbrush?"
Jul was at first puzzled "Well, of course.... Over there on the bureau."
Wendy smiled brightly and sprang up, her oily cunt slipping back along Jill's straightened fingers. The labia seemed more distended than ever as the girl stood for a moment surveying Jill's sprawled naked figure. Then she turned and ran delicately-on tiptoes-to the dressing table. "Terrific," she said, speaking into the mirror. "You have two."
Jill permitted herself to wonder why it was so fortunate a luxury that she have two hairbrushes, but the doubt was solved when Wendy returned, one brush in each hand. From each loosely closed fist the long handle-one transparent plastic, the other an opaque pink-protruded. The objects were decidedly and undeniably phallic.
"You're going to...." She let the words trail off. Jill had never-particularly, not as of late-regarded herself as delicate in her use of language or in her sense of propriety, but this young college girl, older than her years, made her seem a tame suburban matron.
"That's right. I'm going to fuck .you." Wendy's tongue disappeared inside her mouth, the flash of pink out of sight as it pushed up against the roof of her mouth, but not before it had wet her upper hp which shone provocatively.'
Jill closed her eyes. Wendy's free hand snuggled under her back and the girl's fingers kneaded the soft-toned flesh beneath her neck. The tip of one brush-handle was skating over the beaver's surface. Her clit was grateful for the pressure that had been interrupted moments before, and already the walls of her vagina were waiting for the insertion of the plastic stick. Penetration was easy, of course; as long as an average-size cock, this fake prick was thinner.
Its size made it easy for Wendy to move it about once it was in her lover's quim. She dunked the handle until it was inside up to the bristles; the sides of the nylon brush tickled the labia. Impulsively Wendy twisted .the thing inside of Jill and Jill squirmed as she did so. Jill was sweating and her throat was dry. She was turned on and her whole body was taut as it waited for the thrill of orgasm; convulsive shivers passed through her spine and needles of heightened sensation seemed to stick in her belly just above the snatch. With each forward stroke of the handle Jill threw herself up to Wendy, and Wendy took full advantage of her passivity. Her own satisfaction consisted largely in the way her breasts flowed and crawled against Jill's rich nudity. She would get, she promised herself, her own satisfaction later, as soon as Jill had been fulfilled. This, she couldn't help thinking to herself, was old stuff to her, but she wanted Jill's first lesbian experience to be special.
At first Jill had tried to hold back from the impressions she was sure the marijuana had suggested to her, visual suggestions and mental paths she had never been aware of before. Now she let herself go, and that meant not only to feel Wendy's hands and breasts moving over her, but to see the girl, see her vividly, the blonde body against her own darker form, the whispered endearments, some of them coarse and crude, the way the girl's wet tongue soothed her lips and seemed to quench Jill's thirst.
Jill grunted as she came; the juicy insides of her vagina sucked in and seemed to her to be drowning the plastic prick. Her body was racked with spasm after spasm, after which she lay quiet. "I never believed it would be like that with a woman," she said to Wendy, who replied that "whatever way it can be with a man, it can be with a woman."
Jill sat up like a woman who has had too much rest and took the second of the brushes which had slipped halfway down the bed. She stroked the handle with her thumb as it rested in the center of her hand.
"I want the one I fucked you with," Wendy whispered handing her the used hairbrush. The plastic part was sticky with Jill's internal oils, though mostly dry. Jill smiled, and Wendy lay back. The girl spread her legs wide and brought her knees up toward her chest.
Her raw-looking cunt was just barely open like the narrow eye of a needle. A little oval of darkness was inside the rich red color of the pouting labia. She clutched the brush end of the utensil and aimed it at that oval; Wendy took it inside of her easily. Instead of raising herself off the bed, she instead dug her ass into the mattress and slithered a fraction of an inch down the bed to make the plastic hug the upper part of the vaginal coil. From the way she snapped her head eagerly from side to side each time Jill plunged forward, it was clear that she was satisfied with the imitated coitus.
Jill withdrew the plug all the way, however, and Wendy could not stop herself from squirming a little down the bed at just the moment the next forward stroke would have come.
This time Jill planted the re-oiled tool between the girl's perfect butt cheeks which quivered as the end of the poker punched the anal sphincter and quivered more vigorously when the hair brush ajttained entrance.
She could only penetrate to the point the brush itself touched the rims of the rump. Then she pulled it out and reinserted it into the waiting cunt. It slid into the warm harbor and again she removed it. She stuck it up Wendy's ass-hole and the girl's entire body twisted with the confusion of which hole was being filled with which thrust
Jill was conscious, aware, of the sex act at the same moment she was deeply involved; until this time, when she had smoked marijuana, she had been one or the other, but never both at the same time. She loved the way Wendy's body was getting more and more turned on. The girl's face twitched with each stimulus. The lips would press tightly together when Jill shoved the plastic up the hot thing and the mouth would fall almost all the way open when Jill filled the pussy. The mattress squealed; Wendy was jumping on her back, more like an animal in heat than a young girl
The only warning Wendy gave her that she was coming was when, near the end, she closed both of her own hands around Jill's wrist and forced her to hold the dildo inside her vagina. Her whole body thumped with wave after wave of orgasm that seemed to flow out of her through the pussy until she looked like a pale innocent on the bed sheet, quiet and uncaring.
Jill was smiling, and though she did not face Wendy, the latter could see the smile and could wonder about it. "Why are you smiling like that?" Wendy's voice, Jill thought, sounded almost suspicious. But she let her own defensiveness go by and she answered the question.
"I was just thinking what David would say if he knew I had slept with a woman."
Wendy leaned on her elbow. Her face was devoid of emotion and she radiated silence so successfully that Jill had to turn to her in surprise at the absence of some sort of comment or further question.
At this point Wendy had her chance. "What if I told you he already knew?"
Jill's heart seemed at once to explode with blood and bells tolled in her inner ear. The grass made her realize just how melodramatic the scene would appear to an observer, but it did not detract or ease her own anxieties.
"About us?" Wendy nodded, then clarified the point. "He asked me to and I told him I would."
"Why?" Jill was helpless as she asked the question.
"He said he wanted to go to bed with us and he didn't think he could propose the idea to you."
Though pain was written on her face more legibly than humor, Jill had grudgingly-and with an unuttered laugh-to admit that he was right; she would never have agreed to share her husband with another woman, no matter how much she told herself she hated him.
Somehow she had shielded herself from the real panic, but now it came. A current of real sickness filled her brain; had she been standing, she was sure she would have fainted. "Does he know-did you tell him-about Christopher?"
Wendy shook her head.
"Why? You told him you'd sleep with me."
"For one thing I wanted to sleep with you. For the other thing I hadn't said I had. He asked me and I said I'd try. Somehow or other, this afternoon, I'd have gotten around to that, to telling you. I never planned to hold back."
"You've slept with him, of course." Jill's voice was matter-of-fact and the tone almost convinced her.
"Yes. Does that hurt you?"
"I don't know any more."
"Do you want-to go to bed with us?" Wendy was offering David and herself as a unit, to which Jill would come. Wendy soothed the hurt by taking the woman's hand and placing it on her young thigh. "You are very beautiful. I want to make love to you over and over." There was a pause, a mutually held silence.
"Perhaps," Wendy went on, "it would help your marriage." Perhaps, agreed Jill, though she did not speak, ft would either help it or end it.