Chapter 7
The cocktail had been so good that, despite her eagerness to locate the car, Belinda simply had to have another. But the second one was not so tasty; most of the secret ingredient had gone into the first mix. Belinda, who knew cum when she tasted it, was tempted to ask the bartender to add a dash, but she figured she didn't know him well enough for such a personal request, especially when the drinks were on the house. And although it was more dry than she liked, the cocktail was still enjoyable with just a hint of vermouth and spunk, as if he'd merely waved his love wand over the shaker.
Ellie was dancing again.
Belinda watched her, no longer suspicious about the smear on her lips, figuring that the lustful woman had also been drinking cocktails.
Tony said, "Well, what's the name?"
"I wrote it down," she said. She got the paper out and read it off.
"That's funny," he commented. "What is?"
"It just doesn't make sense...."
He took the paper and read it, shaking his head. The man who had bought the old car was named Herbert Granville the Third and he lived in Ocean View Villas, an expensive and fashionable address.
"Let me check the phone book," Tony said.
When he returned, he looked more puzzled than ever.
"The guy's a lawyer," he said.
"So what?"
"Well, would a lawyer want to buy an old used car? He must have a Lincoln Continental or a Cadillac or something."
"I see what you mean. That is funny."
"You think Silva made a mistake."
"No, I looked in his ledger myself."
"I guess I'll have to take a taxi there," Belinda said. "You want to wait here?"
Tony, who always felt uncomfortable with lawyers and enjoyed dancing with Ellie, said, "Yeah, I might as well."
Belinda kissed him and flounced out to find a cab.
Tony almost asked for a martini, remembered in time, and had a beer. After a while he danced with Ellie again, while Jack renewed his supply of the secret ingredient.
Belinda, sexy as she was, never had any trouble in hailing a taxi. She got the first one that came along, the cabbie passing by several gentlemen who were signaling to him. Belinda was so grateful to him for picking her up that she sat in the front seat and pulled her leather skirt up far enough so that he could get a nice look at her sopping drawers. Her cunt was so wet and open that the crotchband of her panties had been sucked right up her slot and a hairy twat lip could be seen on either side. The driver got such an erection that he had difficulty steering the cab; his cock kept banging against the wheel.
Belinda noticed his condition-a thing that seldom escaped her eye-and was sorely tempted to give him a blowjob in lieu of a tip.
But she was too eager to locate the car and the errant lottery ticket and so, regretfully, she tipped him a quarter instead.
The cab driver let her off at Ocean View Villas and drove right to a secluded spot near the beach and beat his meat to a frazzle.
Belinda approached the home of Herbert Granville the Third, impressed by the place.
It was a big white house, pseudo-Iberian, with cupolas and out-buildings and sculptured hedges rowed over the expanses of lawn. Tony had been right about it; it was remarkable that a man who owned such a home would buy a secondhand Pontiac from Bill Silva. Belinda felt a bit overwhelmed-even overawed-by such surroundings. She almost felt that she should go to the servants' entrance or the delivery door. But she steeled her nerve, thinking of all the fun she could have with one-hundred-thousand dollars, and marched up to the front door.
But the woman who opened those impressive portals was certainly no maid-nor maiden.
She was tall, with long black hair that fell straight and glossy over her shoulders, green eyes that were slightly tilted, as if there were a touch of the Orient in her background, and a high-cheekboned, finely planed countenance. She was wearing lounging pajamas of raw black silk, tied at the midriff and flowing loose at top and bottom so that Belinda could see her cleavage and long, shapely thighs.
She looked Belinda up and down.
"Errr ... Mrs.' Granville?"
"That's right."
"I sort of expected a maid ... with a lovely house like this and all," Belinda said, trying to figure out the right approach to use.
"My husband, who is a schmuck, does not believe in having servants," said the dark-haired sultry beauty. "He doesn't believe in slavery, either."
She said it as if she, herself, did.
Then she grinned very meaningfully and said, "A little bondage, perhaps ... but no slavery...."
She was looking Belinda up and down.
"But who are you?" she asked.
Belinda explained that she was trying to locate the old car that Granville had purchased. Mrs. Granville listened, looking a bit dubious.
"Well, my husband is certainly a bleeding-heart liberal and all that, but he's not such a fellow traveler with the paupers that he'd buy a used car," she said.
"I saw his name in the sales ledger."
"I wonder if he might have bought it for some low-born mistress?" the lawyer's wife speculated, showing no indication toward resentment.
Then she said, "Well, come on in ... I'll telephone Herbert and see if we can't get to the bottom of this."
She held the door open.
"Speaking of bottoms," she added, "what an adorable ass you have, my dear...."
"Why, thank you," Belinda said, blushing.
"My name is Melanie," Mrs. Granville told her, leading her down a luxurious hallway and into a large sitting room with gilt mirrors on the walls. She motioned Belinda toward a couch. Belinda sat down, coiling gracefully, aware that Melanie was eyeing her in a strange fashion. She averted her gaze, feeling slightly confused. Melanie left the room. From a distance, Belinda could hear her murmur on the phone. After a few minutes, the sexy, sultry woman returned.
She sat on the arm of the couch.
"Well, that's explained," she said.
"He does have it, then?" Belinda asked, hopefully.
"Well, no. Not now. But he did buy it."
Melanie squirmed as if trying to get comfortable; her lounging pajamas parted, revealing her thigh all the way up to her hip, and showing that she wore no panties.
"You see, my husband volunteers some of his time as a consumer advocate," she explained. "Another of his liberal imbecilities. Being wealthy himself-and something of a shyster, if the truth must be known-he feels an obligation to do charity work. Well, it seems that it was brought to his attention that Bill Silva was selling unsafe cars to poor people." She paused, stretching her gam out and regarding the sweep of her shapely thigh. She ran her hand up that soft curve. She went on, "Well, Herbert purchased a car from Silvayour car, it seems-in order to find fault with it and slap a lawsuit on the fellow. But it didn't work out that way because your car was, apparently, in good condition. Probably the only good car Silva had ever sold. Ironic, isn't it?"
"Errr ... where is the car now, then?"
"Oh, Herbert gave it to one of his clients ... a burglar or bank robber or murderer ... something sordid like that, at any rate. That's how my husband is, I'm afraid."
"I see ... But ... do you know the name and address of this fellow who has it now?"
"Yes. He told me."
"Well ... will you tell me?"
"I might," she said, teasingly.
Uh-oh, thought Belinda. Is she going to tell me that lawyers' wives have some code of ethics, like used-car salesmen? Just what is her game?
"Well?" she asked.
But Melanie Granville seemed to be changing the subject:
She said, "Yes, my husband is a liberal and I am an upper-class snob. God knows how we ever got together ... matter of opposites attracting, I suppose. He defended me once on a morals charge, as it happens, and ... well, that's neither here nor there. The thing is ... although I'm a terrible snob, I don't mind associating with the masses. Are vow poor, by the way?"
"Sort of," Belinda admitted.
"Good, good," said the remarkable Mrs. Granville. "I've always found the poor to be ... agreeable."
"Oh, I'm plenty agreeable," said Belinda. "But I sure would like to have that car back."
"Sentimental reasons?"
Belinda's cover story had worked with Silva, so she saw no reason to change it.
She said, "I gave my first-ever blowjob in that car and I have fond memories of it."
"Ah, I see," Melanie said, and her dark eyes flashed. "Have you given many blowjobs since?"
"Oh, sure. Lots."
"Men?"
"Well, sure. What else?"
"Well, women have been known to blow women...."
"Oh, gee ... lesbians, you mean?"
Melanie looked pained.
"Such an unenlightened attitude," she chided. "I suppose you must be liberal, too." She sighed. "Seatbelts and warnings on cigarette packages ... all the tyranny of the left wing, the fascism of health and safety. What a bore!" She looked sharply at Belinda, who was foundering in confusion. "Tell me, dear ... do I look like a lesbian to you?"
"Oh, gee, no."
"Quite right. I am not. And yet I seldom pass up a chance to dine on a cunt."
Shocked, Belinda gaped at the other woman.
"But ... why?" she queried.
"Why ... because they are so tasty," Melanie explained, as if that were logical. "Because it's so much fun to make a girl whimper and squirm and come. Why else?"
"I never ... knew that."
"You like it when a man tongues you, right?"
"Oh, sure. I love that," agreed Belinda, with enthusiasm; she was starting to get interested, her curiosity piqued-and her snatch stirring.
"Well, a woman does it even better, you know. Having a cunt herself, another woman knows how to do it best."
"I can see that," Belinda concurred.
Melanie looked at her questioningly.
"Well?"
"You mean ... you want to eat me out?"
"Exactly."
"Gee, I don't know. I never...."
"Let me put it this way. Herbert gave me the name and address of the fellow who has the car now. I'll give it to you ... afterward."
"Why, that's blackmail...."
"Precisely."
"I ... I could contact your husband myself."
"Oh, he knows how much I adore munching on pussy, so you can't threaten me that way."
"Well, I could fuck him in return for the name and address, then ... instead of letting you...."
"Being a liberal, my husband is quite impotent," assured Mrs. Granville. She shrugged. "He never has an orgasm except when he's donating semen to the poor folks' sperm bank."
"Oh," said Belinda.
She averted her gaze. Melanie watched her with interest and amusement. She was keen on getting her face between those lovely legs, but not desperate for, sexy as she was, she never had any trouble picking up a man or woman whenever she desired. That, in fact, was the main reason that her husband refused to hire a maid; it wasn't that he didn't believe in servitude so much as he hated his wife sucking-off the female servants. It just wasn't done.
And Belinda was thinking: Gee, I really do have to find that car ... I guess it isn't really so terribly naughty to let a woman fool around with me ... it's not as if I was sucking her or anything ... and ... well ... she does look awful sexy and it might even be fun....
"She looked up and smiled.
"All right," she said.
And the minute she said it, Belinda realized that her motives were more than simply getting the information-that she actually wanted to find out what it was like to have a sensuous woman go down on her. Her nipples had stiffened and her pussy had started to flow again. She was excited and thrilled; she was curious as to what it would be like, and beyond her natural curiosity, she was eager for the sensation.
She said, "I ... I don't have to do anything myself, do I?," batting her eyes innocently.
"Not unless you want to."
"Oh, I couldn't...." But even as she voiced the protest, Belinda realized that she was inquisitive about what it would be like to do it, as well as have it done.
"At least, I don't think I could," she added.
"You may change your mind," claimed Mrs. Granville.
"You might be right," said Belinda.
Without further ado, the two sexy women began to undress....