Chapter 5
Dad was crazy about Liz. Jane went to the kitchen and helped her mother with supper to leave the two alone in the living room with their cocktails, Dad red-faced with laughter over Liz's hospital stories. Liz Kelly sure had the Irish gift of gab. Jane overheard some tales that she already knew, and heard them grow in the telling, improved by Liz's inventions.
"I'm not sure she's a nice girl," Mother said.
Jane said nothing. She hadn't expected Liz to fit Mother's tastes.
"At least she could wear a bra!" her mother hissed. "If she were built small it might be different, but the way those big breasts jiggle!"
"It's her night off, Mother." Besides, Dad was getting a kick out of ogling Liz's plump titties. She wore a thin green blouse that clung to them. In truth, Liz had arrived wearing a sweater but the cold wind outside had died away, leaving the house overheated, and she had taken it off.
"Disgraceful!" her mother said.
Thinking it over during dinner, Jane got mad. Liz wasn't the frosty little snob that Mother would like her to have as a friend. Thank God, she wasn't! Before they went out Jane got her dander up and went to her room and took off her bra, came back carrying her coat and letting everybody see her breasts wobbling and jarring about under a white blouse as sheer as Liz's.
Her mother's mouth hung open as the pair of them hustled out of the house and ran down the street to catch the bus that was just wheeling up to the curb.
Ma, the hell with you, Jane thought.
For years now she had been forbidden to call her mother Ma. It didn't sound elegant enough for an executive secretary. Oh, screw all that kind of pomposity!
When they were seated on the bus, Liz snuggled her hand into Jane's. She said, "Your dad is a real doll. But I think he needs your mother. Otherwise he'd grow a beard and lose his job, maybe. You think?"
"I think you Irish talk off the top of your heads."
"Is that a sore spot?"
Jane sighed. "I guess it is. You know, I'm like both of them. Sometimes I make Dad shape up the way Mother does. But she's hard. I don't want to be like that. It's a generation thing, I suppose. When she got her first job women were supposed to learn less than men, and she resented it and got toughened by it. She didn't have the chance we have."
"I wanted to kiss your dad good-bye."
"Good thing you didn't."
"Next time I will. I'll kiss anybody I want to, so there!"
Jane smiled and, for the first time, squeezed her friend's hand, and interlaced their fingers. She was used to the intimacy now and she guessed that she liked it. True, she had sworn to keep her distance from other people, to retain her independence. But, certainly, a girl posed no threat.
The movie that Liz had chosen was a violent spy story, full of shooting and also some humor; Liz lived it to the full, screeching when guns were suddenly fired, her fingernails cutting Jane's palm during moments of suspense, her breathing short when the love scenes warmed up, her laughter from the belly when there was a pratfull on the screen.
Jane thought that her girlfriend was a better show than the movie. She felt an impulse to hug her. She folded Liz's hand in both of hers and caressed it. Liz barely noticed. She was too busy firing guns, beating up bad men, and making love to a girl whose titties kept popping out of her dress-or else Liz imagined herself as the girl.
When the movies was over and they started out, Liz said, "Let's go to my place, it's only a block. We can have coffee. Or a drink? I'd take you someplace imagine, but I blew my paycheck."
Outside the weather had changed again, a wild wind blowing stinging ice chips of sleet through the night.
"We'll run for it," Liz cried, seizing Jane's hand and yanking her off down the street. Jane's hair blew over her face, half blinding her. She felt her titties jumping all about her chest, and remembered that she had taken off her bra to spite Mother. She laughed. The howling wind and the sleet particles tearing at her face and hands and legs were exhilarating. They were on a main avenue, running like a pair of teenagers instead of mature graduate nurses, professional people, but with Liz she felt like a kid again, and she loved it. She yanked up her skirt to run with her legs swinging from the hips.
Liz steered her around a corner. There, sheltered from the wind, in sudden deafening silence, they stopped running. But Jane was still laughing. She threw an arm around Liz and together they lurched down the street, hips bumping, staggering, drunk on excitement and laughter.
"You're all right, Hearne!" Liz cried.
"I love you too, Kelly." They had come to the steps of an old brownstone, climbed them a half story to a doorway. Liz whipped out her keys and let them" in. After the storm, the hall smelled musty, but it was warm and felt good. They climbed a stairway and Liz unlocked the first door they came to.
"It's a pigpen," Liz said. "I left in a hurry."
There was a certain disorder, a bra on the arm of an easy chair, a half full coffee cup on a lamp table, a lone nurse's shoe in the middle of the floor. Liz scooped these up and the place had a comfortable look; a pile of magazines and books on the coffee table to be read, not hidden away in shelves; brightly colored pillows, some prints on the walls, a sofa-bed, lamps homemade of jugs, and one good piece, a large, antique, beveled mirror. The room was large, with three windows. There was a bath and a tiny kitchen and that was all.
Liz threw her coat into an armchair and kicked her shoes off. She glanced at Jane and said, "Your hair got blown to a rat's nest. There's the bathroom. I have gin and sherry. Want 'em together on ice, or separate?"
"Go, easy on the ice, it dilutes," Jane said, feeling reckless. She threw her coat on top of Liz's and kicked off her shoes, took her handbag into the bathroom, which was tiny but clean. Her hair was damp from melting sleet. As she combed it out she saw the jiggling of her braless titties in the mirror. She giggled. Her breast crowns showed right through the sheer white blouse.
Liz came in with a tall drink in each hand. She gave Jane one, then flipped up the john seat, lifted her skirt and squatted on it to pee. No panties? Jane could see her dark pussy fluff. She asked, "Liz, don't you wear anything underneath?"
Liz sipped her drink as her pee hosed into the bowl. "I wear a bra when I have to. You like rock music? Not regular rock. Rockbucket."
"Try me."
Liz tore off some tissues, wiped her crotch, and left, flushing the john, all seemingly in one movement. She went off with her skirt hung up on one hip. Jane smiled. How she envied Liz her carefree ways, her style of living off her skin!
Music filled the apartment, a jumping, bass-drum beat, and when Jane left the bathroom, Liz was dancing to it, snapping her fingers and cranking her arms and wagging her behind, all of which made her titties flail crazily about. Jane laughed and joined her, and, yes, they were teenagers again, arms and legs pumping, hands pulling down empty air, fannies yanking about. Liz's eyes were sparkling, full of fun. They set their drinks on the record player and faced each other, grimacing and throwing their limbs here and there, riding the music higher and higher. When it calmed a bit, they snatched at their glasses, gulped, got rid of the drinks, and turned to the Rockbucket beat.
Then a new sound came in. A heavy beating on the wall beyond the bathroom. A man's voice yelled, "Goddamn noise, I got to sleep!"
"Oh, shit," Liz laughed. She flicked the switch on the record player. Silence. She finished her drink and said, "Let's make another." She wrapped an arm around Jane and took her to the kitchen.
Jane was bubbling inside. It was all so crazy! And now Liz's arm around her, drawing her close, cozy, warmly pressing her friend. She gulped down her drink although she knew that it was a strong mix. What the hell, she thought. Liz mixed by picking up a bottle in each hand and spilling some into each glass.
"You ought to play something quieter," Jane said.
"That guy next door is a pain in the ass, always complaining. The records are stacked. I forget what's on."
As they returned the next record dropped into place with a splat. They listened. Saxophones. Big band stuff, old. Stardust. Liz turned the sound down and parked her drink. "He can't object to this. Come on, let's dance."
"To this? Are you kidding?"
"Why not?"
Jane really could think of no reason why not, except that girls didn't ordinarily-but who cared what girls ordinarily did? Whose business? Liz's hands rose to her shoulders and she took the girl's waist and they began to sway, and it all seemed quite natural, swaying together, closer now to feel the music through each other, their breast points brushing. Jane thought, That drink was strong. Well, Liz is my friend and she wants to dance. And why not? She feels soft and pleasant, sways gracefully, and her eyes are sparkling. She wears no undies. Well, maybe I can learn from her. And I like holding her hand, and why shouldn't tee dance closer, together like? Why not?
Liz's cheek touched hers. Velvety. Jane found that her breathing was short. She felt an excitement, a little scary, a fear of the unknown. They had drifted together and the warmth of a moment's pause before the next piece began, Liz's breasts seeped into her own. They swayed and their bellies pressed together and Liz's arms circled her neck. Silent, feet unmoving, they swayed to the music. Stardust ended. There was a moment's pause before the next piece began, but they didn't separate.
She met Liz's gaze.
Liz whispered, "You could kiss me."
A pulse pounded in Jane's temple. Kiss a girl? Lesbian! The word beat in her head. Lesbian! Lesbian!
But it didn't seem to belong. Lesbian meant nasty tough-looking women with short hair and masculine swaggers. Not soft and curvy Liz with her sparkling wit. The word went away and left no stain, but Jane was thinking, do I want to kiss Liz? She's my friend, my charming buddy. I'm curious, yes, and she wants me to.
Thus, she kissed Liz, turning her head and letting her lips fall open as she touched Liz's, and felt a soft, sweet rolling, damp and tender, with a flicker of tongue tip in it. For a moment, an iron claw fisted in her belly. Fear! This was wrong, perverted. But the kiss clung and became like holding Liz's hand, a pleasant intimacy. She even met the other girl's tongue tip, and felt a delightful little shock. She forgot about the music. She tongued more deeply, and thrills began shooting down her body to her breasts, and prickling in her nipples. Liz strained against her. Their bodies seemed to seal together, and Jane drew on the other's waist, bringing her in more firmly.
When the kiss at last ended they breathed hotly against each other's cheeks. They were dancing again, moving only inches, one being, one heartbeat pounding in the single cushion of breasts they shared. It had been delicious! Jane wanted another kiss. She sought it, and found Liz's mouth yawning before hers. She suckered fast and tongued in, chasing a slippery tongue. Liz was impish now, teasing her, at last sucking her tongue in deep and licking about it with her own.
The music was distant. Jane was caressing Liz's back. Liz's hands had slipped down from her neck and were on her upper breasts. That was all right, too, even when a hand lowered and rose underneath, cupped, gently caressing her tit.
It seemed a moment, yet, forever, when the music at last stopped and they were left standing there.
Jane turned away. She went to a window and looked out at the storm. Sleet had begun peppering the windows again while they had been dancing and kissing. She touched the windowpanes. Icy cold. The chill revived her.
She said, "I have to start home, Liz."
"Not in this weather." Liz was behind her. Jane felt the warm cushions of Liz's breasts on her back. The girl's chin was on her shoulder, her arms now circling her waist. Jane's hand still touched the icy windowpane, a point of sanity. Liz whispered, "Phone your folks that you're staying over with me."
Her hands rose, caressing Jane's breasts. Her nipples were hot, stiffening as Liz brushed them with feathery fingers. It felt so good! And, she thought, there's no danger, that's the thing. With a girl you're always free, no marriage business to worry about.
"I'll loan you a nightie," Liz said.
Jane felt warmly sensual all over, a little lightheaded from the drinks, her nipples tingling, her belly kind of gently excited. Her body spoke, reinforced by the cold feel of the windowpane and the noise of the sleet crackling on it.
"All right," she said.
She undressed in the bathroom and put on a pale blue hip-length nightie with ribbons tying the bosom together. It was meant to be worn with nightie panties. Liz had given her none. She was wearing white ones that didn't at all go with this and Liz wouldn't wear any, so she stripped them off and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, at her sensually narrowed eyes, her puffed aureoles and rigid nipples, at her pussy hair showing darkly through the nightie.
She had phoned Dad and he had asked, "You girls meet some fellows?"
"No."
"What's the matter with young guys today? In my time a pair of cuties like you and Liz wouldn't have walked a block alone."
She had blown him a kiss through the phone and hung up smiling. Dear Dad!
Now she turned off the bathroom light and went, terribly conscious that only a gauzy blue nightie veiled her nudity, out to the living room-bedroom. Her body was still warmed by the remembrance of Liz's pressing it when they danced, and her lips seemed puffed from their kisses. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy, wobbling as she walked, hip-swaying. In her belly were electric tickles of fear that her sensuality didn't quite smother.
Liz had opened the sofa-bed and sheeted it. She was plumping pillows. Her nightie was a twin for Jane's. As Jane had expected, she wore no panties. Her dark pussy bush showed right through.
She said, "I'm glad you're not out in that storm."
Sleet no longer rattled against the window and the sound of the wind had faded, but Jane let the pretense that they were stormbound remain, as Liz turned out the lights except for a dull amber one, and they climbed into bed, dodging each other's gazes. The hour was late, time for sleep, and the tickling fear in Jane's belly told her to turn away from Liz and close her eyes. The tickle was fear of the unknown, and it was the nasty word lesbian. But curiosity prodded her onward.
She said, "Yes, it's good to be indoors, warm." The sound of her voice was husky, surprising her, and Liz's gaze flicked as she noticed it. Jane thought, I can't hide it. So she reached to Liz's shoulder and brought her close and pressed her mouth to the other girl's.
The kiss was a tentative meeting of trembling lips. Jane's breath caught. She was strangling, suddenly choked up by excitement. Liz made a mewling sound and slipped a soft hand about Jane's neck, holding her until the moment's panic had subsided. She was still short of breath, but the kiss eased and their mouths opened, and when Liz's tongue slid into hers, she licked it, twining her tongue about the slippery intruder. The kiss became hard then, yawning mouths locked, her hand gripping Liz's shoulder to fix her in place, to make solid the unstable rolling of their lips and lashing tongues, to steady the uneven choking of her breathing.
But she was too excited. She tore her mouth from Liz's and nuzzled into her throat, burying her face in the soft flesh. There were tears in her eyes. But this was easier, hiding from Liz.
Liz whispered, "You've never been with a girl before."
"No." She tried to suck back her tears. Then she asked a question that had been nagging her. "Liz, do you and your roommate...."
"Me and Ironpants?" Liz chuckled. "I call her that because she wears a girdle. God, no. She's a frigid bitch. I don't know what she and her boyfriend do together on weekends. Play cards, maybe. She keeps to her side of the bed and me to mine."
Jane felt Liz stroking her hair. It was soothing. Calmer now, she kissed the velvety skin of her throat. She wanted to make love to Liz, really wanted to, if she could quit this trembling and control her breath. She wrapped an arm around her and squirmed close. Their breasts met, warmth oozing through the thin nighties, and then their thighs.
Liz whispered, "Janey, I'm crazy about you. You know? It seems silly for girls to talk about love. But...."
Jane raised up and saw a mistiness in Liz's eyes. She gently kissed her chin, her lips, her cheek. She said, "I think I'm falling in love with you, too, Liz."
That answered a question, yes, it was why, and it eased her to have said it, let her kiss Liz openly, tonguing into her mouth and sucking her saliva. She was caressing her back and drawing her in close. Her hand was lower, finding the bottom of her nightie bunched at her waist. Below, the flare of Liz's buttocks was bare, and she now stroked that satiny flesh, loving the feel of it. Liz snuggled to her and pussy hair brushed her belly. She let Liz's thigh part her own and press into her crotch.
They lay like that, kissing tenderly, their bodies fusing into a single, voluptuous softness quivering on each heartbeat.
Jane was reduced to a mindless jelly. She made no protest when Liz's hand cupped her tit and a thumb aroused her nipple to erection, or when she pulled the ribbon holding the nightie front together, and exposed a swollen breast. The aureole was enormously puffed, projecting a thick, blood-engorged nipple that grew under Liz's feathery caresses. It was pulsing hotly, each touch sending waves of heat throughout her body.
Liz was kissing down her throat, and Jane knew where she was headed. She jerked with excitement when a downy cheek brushed the mound of her tit. Wet kisses seethed about the pink-capped hillock. The slippery passage of her tongue was an unbearable tease. Jane squirmed, thinking, Suck it, Liz. Please suck it! Kiss it, suck it!
Liz's tongue tip laid a scalding circle on her aureole, and Jane squirmed, groaning with passion. Then she shot a glance down and saw Liz's moist lips open and rise over the towering nipple, then close on the tip of it and draw the life right out of her, as though pulling a bubble up out of her cunt, through her tit, taking it away, a bubble that was on fire! Liz gazed at the saliva-glistening pink protrusion, up like a finger, taut and shiny, begging to be sucked. Then Liz moaned softly and her mouth yawned and covered the entire aureole, and slowly drew it into her mouth.
Jane felt a shivering jolt in her vagina, a sudden squirty suction, a spasm that started her on the long road to a cum.
Then Liz's palm was on her thigh, and she waited with bated breath as it stroked, first on top and then between, the sleek and sensitive inner surfaces, gradually rising toward her crotch. Shamelessly Jane spread her legs. Just a touch! Just one, and FU. cum.
Liz sucked more tit into her mouth. No longer was a circle of bright pink aureole visible about her mouth. It was all inside and her lips dented milky breast, and still she tugged, filling up on it.
"Liz!" Jane cried.
Then fingers brushed her hairy outer lips and her whole vulva quivered, and inside a drooling began, a hot running. Liz squeezed her lips, pulled them a little, kneaded them, holding them closed, and keeping the pooling juice within.
Liz's eyes were hooded, dark slits burning with passion as she munched and sucked, tugged and pressed inward, burying her nose in the soft whiteness.
Jane choked, "Darling, make me cum. My clit. I have to cum, I'm on fire, please?"
Liz raised, sucking off the grossly enlarged, livid nipple that stood like a shimmering tower on the swollen cone of aureole. She licked the tip of it. She whispered, "Do you want a big cum, the girl way?"
Jane understood. Liz meant, go down on her.
She choked, "Just make me cum, I have to, whatever way." But she knew what she wanted. Yes, she wanted Liz's tongue lashing her clit. She had never imagined this. She cried, "Darling, anything. Whatever you want."
Liz gave her nipple one last lick and then kissed down the round of her breast, underneath, down her white belly. Jane's eyes were big as she watched her lover's lips tour her abdomen, pause at her belly button to lick it. Liz's dark hair trailed like silk over her flesh, a fluffy caress like a series of incredibly dainty kisses following her lips. Her mouth now neared the broad fluff of pussy hair and Liz's nostrils flared as though drinking in the odor of it. Fingertips combed through the curly fur, squeezed the plumpness of her mound, then lowered and pushed her twat lips open.
Liz gave a groan and lunged downward.
Jane shrieked as the girl's soft lips mashed into her exposed slit. There was a sudden suckering, her clit feeling as big as a nipple when it was drawn into Liz's mouth.
"Oooooohhhhh," Jane panted, arching up, flinging her legs apart as she humped her cunt toward the incredible suction pulling her clit right out of the notch in which it was housed. Was Liz also sucking her inner lips? It felt like everything was being sucked out of her. A knot was forming in her vagina, and the convulsing walls shank together on the knot, melting it.
Her cum was blinding. She was on her back undulating with the waves of passion that racked her. She had torn open her nightie and was kneading both tits as Liz sucked her clit toward a frenzied explosion. She knew that she should do something for Liz, at least caress her, but this was like masturbation, cumming all alone, pulling out her nipples, digging fingers into her breasts, drawing them off.
The knots in her vagina parted and she heard the squirt of expelled fluids and air.
Then Liz's tongue shot up her fuck-hole, and the orgasm wrenched her to the eyeballs, pinking her out, shooting her to an oblivion of pulsing pink convulsions.
She was gone, knocked out of her mind.
But what could she do for Liz?