29.1.12

Marci's Recollections

I looked at my picture on the corporate webpage; my face tense, brunette hair pulled tightly into a bun, conservative pants suit.
It screamed, “All work and no play makes Marci a dull girl.”  I didn’t want it to be true, and so when my good friend Sara invited me to accompany her to a party, I jumped at the chance. 
 
I almost didn’t go. 
 
Twice. 

The first time, an hour beforehand, I received a call from work where I was middle manager of a large financial firm. 
There was a problem, not a big one, but a problem. On any other day, I would have gone racing back to the office.  But not today. “We’ll handle it tomorrow, “I said into the phone.
There was a party to go to.
 Then Sara called. She apologized and said something had come up. She couldn’t go. I can't say that I was particularly surprised.  Ever since her promotion, no make that promotions, her schedule had been uncertain to say the least.
“Go yourself, “she insisted, “You’ll have a good time.”
 I hated the prospect of going to a party alone but couldn’t face another night of Haagen Daz and “Friends” reruns.  I had gone through the trouble getting my make up just right, and finally had the opportunity to wear that little black dress I bought at Macy’s.  Besides, it was one of my "thin" days.  I shrugged my shoulders, giggled to myself and thought, “What the heck.  Marci is not going to be a dull girl tonight”
I recognized a few faces at the party, but after a few perfunctory hellos, found myself in a dim corner, nursing a diet Pepsi. Coming was a mistake I thought and a night with Rachel, Monica and Ross was beginning to look good. My eyes flitted around the room and then down at my watch trying to figure just how long I would have to stay before I could honestly tell myself that I had fulfilled the obligation I had to my social life.
“Hi, you must be Sara’s friend.” I heard a dulcet voice say. 
I looked up from my watch and saw an attractively dressed woman; tall, blonde and altogether striking.
“I’m Sharon,” she continued, “Sara told me to check up on you.”
I smiled shyly and said, “Thank you, but I’m fine.  I was just about to leave anyway.”
She placed her hand on my forearm and smiled, “Don’t be that way.  Sara will be upset if I don’t at least talk to you for a couple of minutes.”
I grinned, “OK, thank you.”
 She was around my age, pretty and surprisingly easy to talk to.  I could see her cornflower blue eyes sparkle with interest as we spoke and her hand caressed my forearm whenever I chuckled.  Before I knew it, I started pouring out my life to her. Upbringing, education, work, everything.

At one point I remember her shaking her head, caressing my hair and remarking, "Sara said something about this.  It is mystifying that you are this pretty, graduated magna cum laude from an Ivy League school and are only a middle manager at your firm."  I shrugged my shoulders as the phrase hung in the air for a few seconds.  "Poor dear." she smiled.  The conversation moved on to the happier things and I totally lost track of time. Before I knew it I really did have to go.    I then did something a never do. Impulsively I took out a business card from my wallet and asked for her cell phone number. I slipped it back into the purse and left smiling all the way home.
When the end of the week finally rolled around, I found myself looking at the card, fingers poised in midair trying to decide whether or not to dial the number.  I knew this was more than my usual shyness.  I wondered how Sara knew Sharon, what their relationship was.  I knew Sara was a lesbian, but I was not.  Well, not for years anyway.  Not since before the break up of my marriage 10 years previously.
I shook my head.  Marriage. The longest 3 weeks of my life.
I hit my forehead with the palm of my left hand and said aloud.  “It is just a phone call.  Just for friendship.”
I dialed the number.  The phone rang a couple of times and then I heard Sharon pick it up asking, "Hello?"
I cleared my thoat and answered, "Hi, this is...".  Before I could say another word, Sharon said, "Marci, I'm so glad you called."  We spoke for about an hour; well actually, she did most of the talking.  There was a very seductive lilt in her voice.  She suggested we might meet for drinks at a club in her neighborhood.  The word "yes" was out of my mouth before I even realized I had said it.

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I was positively giddy before our meeting.  I wore navy slacks and my finest red silk blouse.  I spent 30 minutes in front of the mirror, getting my lipstick just so.  A cab found the club immediately, and, walking into the door, I squinted, trying to adapt to the low lighting of the surroundings.  Finding a seat at the bar, I ordered a diet coke and sipped it slowly. Turning my head, I saw Sharon open the door and enter the bar.  I immediately smiled, noting the way she fit into her jeans.  I got up from my bar stool meaning only to extend my hand, but found myself in a warm welcoming embrace.  Her perfume was light and flowery and I loved how my curves seemed to merge with hers.  Her hand started to stroke my hair and I closed my eyes for an instant, though it could have been longer.  I exhaled flustered when she released me, embarrassed at what I thought was a premature show of intimacy on my part. I looked down not quite knowing what to say.  Fortunately, Sharon was perfectly calm and suggested we share a table together.  I eagerly nodded my head and she led me to a booth in the back.  I slid in first and Sharon followed.
Sharon had ordered a couple of glasses of chablis.  She sat next to me, her thigh lightly grazing mine.  Her hand idly caressed my arm as I listened to her start to speak.  Her eyes were the same cornflower blue I remembered, and they shown brightly even in the candlelight of the club.  She started to speak of her relationship with Sara; of how they once were lovers, how Sara's rise in the the business world just left her with less time to see Sharon. I marveled at the lack of animosity between the two.  I murmured how wonderful it was that they remained friends; how rare that was.  She looked into my eyes as she said. "this is the best way to get to know each other, Marci". She then brushed my hair back behind my ear and said. "you are alone, marci, and don't want to be lonely. Am I right?" It was a more direct question than I expected, but I nodded yes. I lowered my eyes trying to avoid her gaze centering on a lovely pendant Sharon had nestled between her breasts. I could see the candle on the table reflected in the gemstone. "You need to make someone happy, don't you marci?" she said.  I nodded, letting out a silent sigh. 
The conversation then stopped and a few seconds of quiet passed.  I felt her eyes on me like a palpable presence. I tried to think of something to say, Sharon's hand moving slowly up and down my forearm.  Finally, she spoke. "I see you've noticed my pendant."
Relieved that the silence had been broken I said, "Yes, it is quite beautiful.  Where did you get it?"
Sharon continued, as if my question had not been asked, "Most find it quite enticing, do you?"
I nodded my head yes, as she removed from around her neck and held it in front of my eyes, swinging it slowly back and forth.
"Take a closer look, you can see the Christmas lights twinkle in the gemstone"
I could.
Sharon continued to talk, each word distinct and yet each blurring into the next.  I lost track of time, becoming fascinated by the pendant, her words and the lovely peaceful way I began feel.  I closed my eyes...and opened them as Sharon smiled.  I exhaled happily. 
"Thank you for a wonderful evening.  I don't know when I've had such a wonderful time,"  I whispered.
Sharon pointed to her full red lips, and as I looked I reflexively parted my own, closing my eyes.  Sharon kissed me deeply her tongue exploring my mouth freely.  I moaned silently and quivered as if a small climax had passed through me.  Afterwards, I blushed confused, not at my reactions, but at the fact that they felt so natural.
"We'll see each other again tomorrow night here, at 7 pm", Sharon said.  It wasn't a question, but a statement.  "Wear a dress."  I nodded my head.

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I thought about Sharon the rest of the evening.  Nestling under my quilt, I pictured her eyes, the timbre of her voice and my fingers found their way down across my belly to that area in between my legs.  Netherlips moist and plump I immediately orgasmed waves of joy spasming through my body.  "Sharon, Sharon, Sharon", I moaned with each wave.  It was almost as if I could hear her voice, bell like in my mind, coaxing me on.  When I awoke in the morning, my sheets were stained beneath me, but I couldn't bring myself to change them.   I sat down at the breakfast table, reviewing the prior night. It had been a most wonderful evening, but the details of why eluded me.  I tried to figure it out, but my heart started to beat excitedly and I became consumed with thoughts about which dress Sharon would want me to wear that evening. I whispered to myself unconvincingly  "I'll get control of the situation", even as I searched my closet for the perfect outfit.

The next evening at 7 pm I was already sitting at the bar, waiting anxiously for Sharon.  I had picked out a short red dress with a slit up the side.  There was a plunging neckline that highlighted more than a hint of cleavage.  I went back and forth about it, but at the last minute i decided to forgo wearing a brassiere.  I rocked back and forth on the bar stool looking down at my watch, the second hand moving infinitesimally with each slow tick.  When Sharon walked through the door I practically bolted from the stool, tripping on the legs ending up at her feet.  I giggled as I picked myself up and hugged her tightly. Sharon returned my embrace and then positioning me a right in front of her, asked me to turn about slowly.

A wide smile lit up her face as I turned, "Lovely dress, Marci, just lovely.  Exactly what I had in mind."

 Sharon took me by the hand and led me back to the same booth as the previous night.  I slipped into the booth and Sharon followed, her thigh nestling closely against mine.  She ordered a couple of glasses of wine, but I left mine on the table, watching as her lips caressed the rim of the glass, sipping her Rose.  I could see the candle on the table, reflecting in her eyes.  

"Well, Marci, how was your night after we parted?"

I blushed and stammered, "Fine."

She took her fingertips and started to caress my forearm, "Merely fine darling?"

I hissed softly, remembering my fingers how they had crept along my belly in my bed and looked downward at my glass, biting my lip.  Sharon took her forefinger and placed it under my chin, tilting my head upward saying, "Dear, it is impolite not to look me in the face when we talk."

I looked up, making eye contact with her lovely cornflower blue eyes.  "I think there is something you are not telling me dear?  Maybe if you think back to how it felt in bed last night."

Her eyes glistened in the candlelight and I felt my eyes grow tired.  I felt myself lean back into a timeless cornflower blue mist.  
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"Ohhh" I heard myself groan.  I opened my eyes confused and panting.  

Sharon said matter of factly, "You masturbated moaning my name last night, didn't you?"

I nodded my head and whispered, "Yes".  I felt an orgasm start to build inside me, in the middle of the booth.

Sharon grinned widely, "Wonderful, I love that you did that.".  She pointed to her full red lips and I reflexively parted mine.  She kissed me deeply again and my orgasm crested as I moaned into her warm mouth.

I slumped back into the booth quivering, trying to catch my breath.

"I love the way your nipples peek through your dress without a brassiere," Sharon smiled.  She placed her right hand on my left thigh and I felt my legs part effortlessly.  Her fingers walked up my inner thighs underneath the pleats of my dress and then caressed the dampness of my panties.

"Lovely," she said.

Sharon grinned widely rubbed her damp fingers over my moist lips. "Look at the time, it is nearly 11 pm and you need your sleep.  Until tomorrow, love."

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I had been seeing Sharon daily for three weeks. After each visit my thoughts turned to her; more and more each day.  We became lovers and her happiness became more important than my own.  I'd gaze into her eyes and soon found myself kneeling between her legs, pleasuring her.  Soon it seemed the only was that I could orgasm was after she had climaxed.  Home was between her thighs.  Afterward, I'd lay beside her in a euphoric haze and she'd speak to me of love and life, of ambition and work.  Every moment of every hour she was on my mind, almost in my mind whispering softly and sometimes indistinctly.  Then one day, suddenly, she said she had to go out of town.  I did not see her.  Heard not a word from her. I found my palms perspiring and heart pounding. My nerve endings felt as if they were exposed. I couldn't sleep. I was short with anybody I came in contact with. I just locked myself in my office at work as much as I could, until there was the monthly staff meeting to attend. I couldn't think of any way to get out of it.  I walked into the conference room and I sat against the wall, trying to lose myself in the crowd.  The CEO, Mr. Rappaport, was presiding today and was in an especially foul mood, angry about the recent downturn in sales.  I sat there quietly, nerves afire.  He ranted on and on for 15 or 20 minutes, I'm not sure how long, I wasn't listening until I heard my name.

"Marci!", Mr. Rappaport shouted, "I don't expect my employees to daydream when I am talking.  What do you have to say for yourself?"

I snapped. Grabbing a laptop, I brought up my email account, and slid the computer down to the head of the table, raising my voice. "Damn it, If you had just read my report, you would have seen that this downturn was predictable and if you had taken the steps I had outlined, entirely avoidable!"

The room fell silent as everyone else just looked at me.  Mr. Rappaport said nothing, his face crimson.  I stormed out of the conference room, into my office and slammed the door shut.  Then it hit me like a punch in the gut.  I had just told off the head of the company.  I collapsed into my chair.shaking my head at my stupidity.  I started to go over in my mind how many boxes it would take to pack up my office.

A half hour later there was a knock on the door, it opened and the CEO strode in.  "Great," I thought, "He's going to fire me himself."

He sat down, leaned forward, his chin in his hand and said, " Your report was precisely right. It's about time you showed some backbone.  If you had been more assertive in publicizing it, the company could have avoided a multimillion dollar loss.  Part of that is my fault, but part of it is yours. I reviewed your file. We all know how smart you are, but this is the first time that you've shown any leadership potential.  This is no place for a shrinking violet."

He then arose and opened the door, turning about before he left saying, "Oh, but never speak to me like that again."

As soon as the door closed, my telephone rang.  I picked up the receiver; it was Sharon.  Without even a hello she said, "The meeting went well?".

"Surprisingly, yes," I replied.

I heard a chuckle on the other end, "Yes, it did.  Remember that.  Oh, and you will come by my place this evening."

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Sitting down in our booth, it had been the most wonderful six months of my life.  Not only did I have Sharon, but I had been promoted twice and was now Vice President of my department.  Who knows what the future might bring?  I waited eagerly for Sharon, aroused at the very thought of her.  It was amazing how we how close we had grown.  

She sat down in the booth next to me and I sidled up close to her, our thighs touching.  Sharon smiled, beginning, "So how was your day?"
"Wonderful', I said, "Especially now that I'm with you.  Things have been going so well at work although I'm a little concerned about Rappaport retiring."
"He's retiring?", she said, and then suggested, "Have you ever thought of becoming a CEO?"
I laughed, "Me? Like Sara? Come on, I haven't the qualifications. And the company has never had a female CEO. And It is so time consuming."
Sharon beamed, "I am so proud of you, how far you've come at your work.  Vice President could just be a start.  You know I've always thought that women are more suited to lead than men."

I nodded my head, "I know, I know, but you can't change society overnight"

She then looked at me and said cryptically under her breath,  "Maybe you can, one woman at a time."

"What?", I said confused.

Sharon just smiled and reached out and caressed my arms as I looked deeply into her eyes.  My eyelids fluttered and my jaw relaxed as it often did when I spoke to her. 

She began, "I know that you really have a burning desire to become CEO and want to devote every waking minute to doing so until you reach that goal."
I suddenly realized that the thought had occurred to me and she was right.
"And if you no longer have the time to see me, that is the price to pay."

A wave of sadness washed over me as I knew it was true.

"But, " she continued, "You are not sad but happy about the time we had together and will always love me and be my friend.."

Again she was right, the sadness disappeared replaced by a warm feeling of contentment and happiness for the fond memories that I would always have. Sharon snapped her fingers as she was usually wont to do after making a point.

I looked at her sympathetically and said,  "I'm sorry dearest but you know how much I value my career.  Are you OK with this?  I will always love you and be your friend, you know that."

Sharon smiled wistfully, "I know.  Who knows you better than I do?"  She sighed.

After a few seconds Sharon changed the subject.  "So you were telling me about your new friend.  The one you met at the American Business Woman's Association meeting? 

"Oh yes," I answered, "Lovely woman.  Works at a large biotech firm. Talented, brilliant, but so shy.  I keep telling her to stand up for herself especially since when her CEO leaves in a year or two, there will be a chance for advancement.  Here, I think I have a picture on my iPhone."

I passed Sharon the iPhone and her eyes widened.  "She is delicious, absolutely gorgeous, "Sharon remarked,"Chinese?"
"No. Japanese," I replied.
Sharon looked again at the iPhone with almost a predatory look in her eyes.  She took a hold of my hands. My eyes fluttered again as she softly said.  "There is a party tomorrow night that I am attending.  You should invite her to go with you."  

I nodded my head and said blankly, "Of course I should, but what if I have to cancel because of work?"

Sharon leaned forward and caressed my hair as I closed my eyes. "Cancel? Oh you will. But don't worry dear," she whispered,  "I'll make sure she is well taken care of."  

15.1.12

Curious Molly - by Sara H

"For Sharon, who holds my heart and soul, and who has stood with me above and before all others."


The wires were a pain.
 
No question.
 
Molly felt them attached to her head. She looked at the jumble of wires leading away to a rectangular console and sighed. The machine was buzzing her ears with the slightest whisper of a hum. The intrusive leads and the adhesive annoyed her, thanks to the tiny places where her hair had been removed and skin oils dissolved. She was strapped in,to a reclining chair, but wriggled a bit, thinking that this was a long way to go for a minor story about a minor underground fetish.
 
But it had taken her months to get here. Referrals. Dead ends. The faux brainwashing fantasy world was secretive, even paranoid. Some admitted to liking the idea, but many fewer admitted to the role-playing games that went so far as to actually simulate the act.
 
Rona had been the one who finally broke it open for her. She was, from all appearances, a quiet, demure and serious college student. When Molly met her, she had rolled her eyes, sure Rona would be the next roadblock to her story. But as she listened to the young woman, she'd found herself getting excited. The hairs on the back of her arm stood up as they talked - not out of fear, but out of excitement. It came with every great story. Breathing deeply, slowly, she remembered more.
 
After a few meetings and one lunch, Rona had introduced her to "Miss" Teresa. The woman was more matriarch than beauty, although beauty was no stranger to her. She had an air of emotional austerity that only comes from those who had lived in authority for a very long time. The air nearly crackled around her as she sat and talked in numerous interviews. The smell of her perfume, the way her eyes lingered and almost never blinked - Molly was in awe before the second interview was done.
 
As for Molly, she had been honest in her intentions. And Miss Teresa was more than happy to entertain her questions. Trust was built. It traveled back and forth between them with questions and answers - an electricity that wasn't all intellectual, but wasn't all curiosity, either. And over time, some of it became a kind of clandestine arousal. After weeks of taping and transcribing, taping and transcribing, Molly realized she liked Teresa  - in fact, felt drawn to her in an odd way that occurred to her in moments of distraction.
 
And then, something changed. For the life of her, she couldn't remember when or how, but it was Miss Teresa asking questions, choosing interview times, even demanding her presence. The threat of losing her subject was never spoken, but was there, nagging Molly into relenting.

As anyone would relent. She had no choice.