Vicky sat between Sean and Monica, at the deepest part of the U in the U-shaped booth. After the young waitress, a slightly Goth-looking girl with tattoos on arms and shoulders visable through the white blouse as well as piercings not just to her ears, but at one eyebrow also, introduced herself as Chrissie and took their drink order, Monica started to slide out of the booth, saying,
“I’m going to the ladies room to clean up. Want to come, Vicky?”
Vicky said. “Always, Monica. What did you have in mind?” as she leered up at the younger woman.
Monica blushed, yet again and started to speak, but Sean interrupted.
“No cleaning up. You face is shiny with Vicky’s cunt juices and I like it that way. You need no other makeup, Monica.” Now Monica really blushed,
“You know, I love the way you both smell. Sex as condiment can’t be overrated.”
All three laughed in total agreement and turned to their menus. Chrissie arrived with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. They were ready and, as each took their turn ordering, Chrissie surreptitiously stole glances at Monica’s chest where the dark areolae continued to stand out against the white blouse. Monica couldn’t help but notice and soon her nipples started their inevitable rise to prominence, pressing against the white fabric even more.
Given the way the day had gone so far, this surprised no one. Monica, acting as if she hadn’t noticed, leaned back, put her hands behind her head and pushed her breasts into the fabric of the shirt feeling the friction on the fabric, which only made her nipples harder. Chrissie’s eyes widened and she looked away for a moment anyway, then, as if there was a chain pulling her head around, she turned back and simply stared at Monica’s breasts.
“Chrissie,” Sean tried to get her attention. “Chrissie…”
At the second mention of her name, Chrissie turned away from Monica. “Like what you see?”
A wicked grin lit up his face. Now it was Chrissie’s turn to blush, but only briefly. Chrissie was made of sterner stuff than Monica, or at least more experienced stuff.
“Can I get you anything else, sir? A salad or hors d’oeurvres?”
“No, nothing else for me. Monica, you? Vicky?” Both women shook their head no. Sean turned back to Chrissie. “No, thank you. ”
With one last long look at Monica – or at her hard nipples – Chrissie took their orders back to the kitchen.
“Well, baby, I think that counts as conquest number six,” commented Vicky wryly.
Monica grinned. “I think I could get used to this.”
“Monica, this is the real you. Or, more accurately, you are putting more of you out there. Which, I have to say, is a very good thing to do. At least for me!”
Sean’s mind began to turn to the problem of what next for Monica. He didn’t want to go too far on the first date – that far, yes, later, but, there are limits to how much change, how much new, can be accommodated. On the other hand, newness has its own charm and striking while the iron is hot is as true for forging people as it is for forging steel.
“Monica, Vicky, I want you to go to the ladies room together. No cleaning up! Monica, I want you to remove Vicky’s bra and to make her nipples as erect as yours, but without using your hands. Vicky’s nipples are to be erect when you two sit back down, understand, Monica?” Vicky grinned.
“Yes, sir. Remove Vicky’s bra, make her nipples erect, come back.”
“You have five minutes. See that you are back before the time is up.”
“Yes, sir. Are you ready, Vicky?”
“Yes, baby, always.”
The two women had to wait outside the restaurant’s ladies room for a moment before they could take their turn. For Monica the waiting was nearly torture, from desire or fear, she couldn’t have said. Vicky took Monica’s hand to comfort her. Finally their turn arrived.
“Baby, pull off my top.”
“No, baby, when it is just us, it is ‘Yes, Mistress’. Say it.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Monica pulled Vicky’s top over her head. Vicky’s bra clasped in front. Monica undid the clasp with shaking hands and waited for instructions.
“Kiss my breasts, make love to them with your lips, your tongue, your cheek, your hair. I promise I will like it.”
Hesitant at first, Monica made love to Vicky’s breasts, and soon, as Monica’s tongue swirled around areole and nipple, little peaks formed. Monica had other questions on her mind, though, not just Vicky’s nipples. “Vicky, sorry, Mistress, Why hasn’t Sean touched me?” she asked as she breathed upon one nipple, then the other.
“Sean is gentling me, baby. I am neither his mistress nor his toy. I am his lover, and he is mine. He will not cross that boundary with you until he is sure he has my trust in this.”
“Mistress, I thought you said you trusted him already?”
“I do, baby, and it is exactly because I know he will wait for me in this and so much more that I do trust him. Do you want him to touch you, baby?”
“Oh, yes, Mistress. May I ask you something?”
“Yes, baby, you may.”
“Will he fuck me?”
“Do you want him too?”
Monica didn’t answer right away; instead she gave her full attention to Vicky’s nipples. After they were nice and hard, she spoke again. “Do you want him to fuck me, Mistress?”
“Yes, baby, I do”
“Then so do I.”
Vicky pulled Monica’s face up to hers and kissed her; an emotional, erotic, sharing kiss. Vicky broke away. “Time’s wasting,” she looked down,
“Though my nipples seem in no rush to leave, they’re like little rocks!” Laughing, she put her top back on and pulled Monica back to the table.
Monica and Vicky returned within the prescribed time. Yes, Vicky’s nipples were still hard, Sean could see them from the other side of the restaurant. Her tight top made it almost too obvious, and more, Monica’s saliva slightly dampened the fabric, allowing the pink of nipple and areole to show clearly.
Sean smiled approvingly as the women sat down, Vicky still between Monica and Sean. His hand slid her skirt up higher.
“You look amazing, Vicky. Simply amazing. Something must agree with you? What could it be?” teasing her with his words and his hand, which had made it to mons territory where he got a surprise. He found Monica’s hand already there. Truthfully, it was a pleasant surprise, for all three of them. Monica and Sean simply rested their hands on Vicky’s thighs, their fingers touching at the top of Vicky’s slit. Each sat and simply enjoyed the touch, the eroticism and the sense of connection.
Sean broke the spell. “Monica.”
“Unbutton the top three buttons on your blouse.” The lowest of the three buttons fell below her breasts.
“But, sir, my boobs…”
“Yes, Monica, your boobs may well be exposed. Think of it as a plunging neckline. Buttons, Monica.”
“Yes, sir.” Monica removed her hand from Vicky’s inner thigh and undid the buttons, slowly. Vicky stopped her at the lowest one.
“Let me, baby.” Vicky unbuttoned the lowest one and commenced teasing Monica, flipping the blouse open, then closed, then open again. When flipped open, one or the other of Monica’s perky breasts showed nipple and a little more.
“Stop it, Vicky, someone will see,” she whispered.
“Yes, they will, and it’s Mistress, baby.”
Vicky pulled the blouse wide open, exposing both breasts for a second. She slid the blouse back together, covering the breasts but leaving considerable skin visible, including the swell of both breasts.
Chrissie arrived, along with another server, bearing their dinners. The other server set up a serving tray and left. Chrissie set out the salads, stealing yet more glances at Monica’s breasts, now partly exposed, as well as Vicky’s slightly damp and obvious nipples. She even glanced at Sean to guess at his part in what was clearly erotic play. Sean’s face gave nothing away, excepting that he watched her closely. Chrissie’s lips and cheeks, ears, all flushed with blood at what she saw in front of her, and what she couldn’t see, she imagined.
As Chrissie leaned over to place Monica’s order on the table, Vicky twitched Monica’s blouse aside for one breath of time, then put it back. Chrissie froze in place, her eyes locked on Monica’s face. Her breath stopped.
For her part, Monica couldn’t move, could barely breathe. This was not a kiss. This was not sweet Brenda. This was an experienced young woman with hungry eyes and Monica’s breast has just been displayed for her for what could only be Chrissie’s arousal. Another breath of time passed and Chrissie resumed setting the plates of food on the table. She did not meet Sean’s or Vicky’s eyes, but her gaze full of heated desire all but burned Monica.
Chrissie shook herself and turned to Vicky and Sean. “Can I get you all anything else?”
“No, not right now, thank you,” Sean answered her.
Chrissie made her way back to the kitchen. Monica turned to Vicky. “How could you do that?” She spoke fiercely.
“How could I not, baby? Did you not see how she reacted? Look at her!” Chrissie sat at the table near the kitchen where napkins and silverware were folded, hunched over, her head down and her hands in her lap, or possibly even between her legs.
Monica watched Chrissie for some time. “What is she doing?” she asked finally.
“Masturbating, or wishing she could,” answered Vicky.
“Because of you. Because you are almost unbelievably desirable. You are a combination of innocence and sex that is like nectar of the gods to anyone not mostly dead, and our Chrissie is way more alive than that.” Vicky continued to answer while Sean watched both women, his hand still on Vicky’s upper thigh.
“It’s just me! I’m just a girl. Why is everyone acting like this? What are you doing to me?” Monica asked with an almost little girl wail. Tears formed in her eyes.
Sean answered, “We are opening you to all that you are, Monica. This is who you are. Beautiful, unspoiled, smart and so, so innocent. Vicky is wet because of you. I am hard because of you. Chrissie is desperately trying to get herself off without anyone noticing, because of you.”
“How could this be and I not know it?”
“I don’t know. It just is. What I, what we, have been doing to you has allowed you to bypass the constraints of your life experience so far. Within the context of our relationship, and we do have a relationship, you have given over control to me and to Vicky. In doing so, you have freed yourself from responsibility for your actions. You chose to trust us to lead you, to see the you that might be, that you wanted to be but could not persuade yourself to bring into being. You had too much fear. We took that fear from you, and you blossomed.”
“What if I don’t like this me?”
“That is possible, I guess. What do you think? Do you want to go back to who you were?”
Monica thought for quite some time. Sean and Vicky turned to their meals and let Monica sit with her thoughts. Eventually, she, too, began to eat, though she didn’t speak, not yet. The silence didn’t feel strained. They had shared enough that not speaking could be companionable.
As they neared the finish of their meals, Monica spoke again. “Why does Chrissie have all those tattoos?”
“People chose different ways to express who they are, baby. Chrissie’s mental picture of herself is more accurate, in her mind, if her body is decorated as it is.”
“Do the tattoos hurt when you get one?”
“Some, though I have none myself. Neither does Sean. I know I’ve thought about it, but not seriously.”
“I’ve never really considered it,” Sean said. “I don’t even like rings, and I wear a watch only because the world runs on its own time, not my time.”
“What about the piercings?” Monica asked.
“None here,” Vicky answered.
“Nor here,” said Sean.
“I mean on Chrissie. Do they hurt?”
“They are done much quicker as compared to a tattoo, but I believe the pain is much sharper,” Vicky answered.
“It can’t hurt too much. She has three of them not counting her pierced ears.”
“Oh, I bet she has more piercings than we can see,” laughed Vicky, and Sean joined in.
“Why don’t you ask her? She’s headed our way again,” Sean responded.
“I couldn’t do that!” Monica exclaimed.
“You could. And I am fairly sure Chrissie would answer you. Not either of us, but you, yes, she’d answer.”
All three watched Chrissie approach. As she noticed them watching, her face grew visibly pale underneath the Goth makeup. She came to a full stop in front of the booth, her eyes haunted in their rings of dark makeup. She didn’t immediately speak.
Monica spoke first. “Chrissie, may I ask you something? Something personal?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Almost a whisper.
“Do you….” Monica gathered herself, “Do you have other piercings, ones we can’t see?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Again a whisper.
Chrissie, her eyes locked on Monica’s face, pointed to her breasts, to her belly button, and then very slowly, to her groin.
“Oh! I didn’t even imagine!” Monica said. “Did… did they hurt? When you got them? Did …” Her eyes flicked to Chrissie’s groin, “That one hurt a lot?”
Chrissie nodded yes.
“I don’t have any,” Monica said. Then, in a gesture surprising to all four of them, she pulled her blouse apart. “You can see. Nothing here. Nor anywhere else.” She grinned and closed her blouse. “I’ve shown you mine, will you show me yours?”
“I can’t, not here, it’s my job.” Chrissie couldn’t keep the desire out of her voice, above even the anxiety.
“May I feel? Through your shirt?”
Chrissie nodded yes and moved directly in front of Monica, her back to most of the restaurant. Monica put a hand on Chrissie’s breast, kneading the tip of the breast so that she could feel the nipple ring. “That feels nice, Chrissie. You may feel mine, if you want.”
Monica, shyly, pulled open her blouse again. Chrissie ran one hand gently over both breasts, then carefully closed Monica’s blouse. She leaned over and kissed Monica, a brief but electric kiss that left Monica breathless.
Chrissie stood, shivered for a second, and turned to Sean and Vicky. “Dessert for anyone?”
“No thanks,” Sean said, “I think we just had dessert.” He grinned and three grins grinned back at him. “Bring us the tab, please.” Chrissie nodded and left. “Well, ladies, what next? It’s still early.”
Vicky turned to Monica. “Well, baby? Do you have some place you need to be? Or would you…?”
“Would I what?”
“Would you like to come home with us?” Vicky couldn’t keep a hint of desire out of her voice.
Monica shivered. And thought. Then thought more. “What does ‘come home with us’ mean, Vicky? I am a little afraid.”
“You are smart to be a little afraid – not of us, exactly, but of what could happen to any young woman who allowed herself to be so completely in someone else’s control. The question for you, baby, is the same question you have faced all this time. Do you trust us? If you do, then come with us. If you don’t, we will take you to your car now. We have had a wonderful day together, and we will treasure each memory, no matter what you decide.”
“Is this a one-time offer, Vicky? Must I choose now, choose to go with you, or choose to never see you again?”
“Never is a long time, baby. But in principle, you have it correct. You have seen us as truly as we can be seen. If you don’t trust us now, then either you will never trust us, or you will trust us after you become more familiar with us. But we, Monica, do not desire to become familiar. Not for a long time yet anyway, should you choose trust, and not before we have taken the gift that you are and wrung every possible bit of new out of it, out of you.”
Monica turned to Sean. “I only met you yesterday. Do you think this is fair?”
“What does fair have to do with it? Either it is right, or it isn’t. If it isn’t right, you shouldn’t do it. If it is right, then the only thing holding you back is fear. Not fear of us, but fear of finding out more about the real Monica, the woman whom you’ve hidden away for half your life.” Sean reached across the table for her hand. “I want you to come with us. I want you to be a part of our life. We gamble as much as you, Monica. You’ve already won our hearts. What we offer now is even more than that.”
Monica thought for a long time. Vicky put her arm around Monica’s waist and she and Sean waited, saying nothing, holding each other’s hand. Trust is a two way street.
Monica thought of her life up to yesterday. The confusion, the pain, the lack of intimacy, the uncertainty, not knowing if life held anything more that what she already had, when what she had was not nearly enough.
“Yes.” That’s all she said.
Neither Sean nor Vicky said anything, but both their eyes misted over, just a little. Monica noticed and suddenly she saw that power had to be a two-way street. In giving away control, she also gained power. Now that her choice had been made, she felt certain that she had made the right choice.
Chrissie showed up with the bill. Sean gave her his credit card and in a moment she returned with the credit card receipt and thanked them for dining at Gigi’s. Sean put a big tip on the table and picked up the bill. On the back Chrissie had written her name and cell number.
As they walked out to the car, Sean handed the bill to Monica. “Here, I think this is for you.”
Monica looked at the bill. “Why? Is there something I should know?”
“Look on the back.”
Monica turned it over. Her eyebrows rose dramatically. “Oh. OH!” Vicky looked at the bill over her shoulder and laughed.
“Definitely number six.”
Sean swung the door to the twelfth floor apartment wide open and waved Monica and Vicky through. Vicky, wearing a huge smile, pulled Monica by the hand into their home.