Sarah's Girlfriend

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The next day was Friday, and both girls had taken the day off to finish straightening up around their new apartment. They had worked hard enough the previous day, however, that by early afternoon they were done.

Sarah brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead and dropped into the couch with a sigh. "I'm hungry," she asserted, "but I really don't feel like making anything. You want to go out to lunch? Maybe some Mexican? I think I still have some money left before payday."

"Sounds good," agreed Nikki, closing the closet door and joining her. But then she stopped and made a theatric little O with her lips, as if having just remembered something. "Only—"

"What?" wondered Sarah.

"Well," murmured the brunette, one corner of her red mouth quirked with the ghost of a faintly enigmatic smile, "I, ah, had sort of been thinking about going out tonight…"

"We'll eat cheap now, then," Sarah said reasonably, "and still be able to afford to go out later. We can split some nachos or botana." She stood and kicked at Nikki's foot. "Come on, I'm starving."

The other girl eyed the blonde sideways for a moment. "All right," she said at last, smiling once more. They headed downstairs.

The restaurant was not very far, so they walked rather than taking Sarah's car. The day was fair with only a few clouds crossing the high blue, and the city was fairly quiet, for most students had gone home for the summer.

In the restaurant they got a booth right away. Their order was taken by a cute, short-haired little blonde who obviously wore no bra beneath her clingy red T-shirt. She jiggled pleasantly as she brought them tortilla chips and salsa and a pitcher of water, and when the girl bent, Sarah happened to glance down the neck of her shirt and thereby get a quick glimpse of the smooth flesh of her bare breasts hanging soft and free. The girl gave the two a quick smile and then hustled away. Idly Sarah watched her go, then turned back to Nikki. "Okay," she said, reaching for a triangular chip, "now what was that about going out tonight? Where were you thinking of?"

Nikki tested the salsa. "Well." She swallowed. "You remember Denise, right?"

"Sure," said Sarah, "we had that chemistry class with her. She works in the Student Union, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, I see her working there all the time." Nikki contemplated the chips. "I ran into her there a few days ago, and she wondered if you and I would want to go out with her and her girlfriend this weekend."

Sarah took a slow drink of her ice water. At length she replied. "She's a lesbian, isn't she?"

Nikki lowered her lids slightly as if considering something, then shrugged matter-of-factly. "I never asked." She looked up at Sarah from beneath those provocative lashes of hers, dark eyes gleaming. "Why do you think so?" she asked, her voice almost mockingly innocent.

"Well," Sarah said quietly, "she is just a bit mannish—you know, short hair, square face, and plain dresser." She bit her lip. "And the couple times I've seen her with her girlfriend, they seemed…well, kind of close. They seemed to touch each other a lot." She shrugged helplessly. "I mean, I could be wrong—and, of course, it doesn't really matter to me one way or the other. Gosh, it's none of my business." Flustered by Nikki's silence, she concluded lamely, "I just wondered,

that's all."

"I confess I've never asked Denise," Nikki said serenely, "what she does or doesn't do in the bedroom—or on the couch, in the shower, or out in some back alley either, I suppose." The brunette flashed a quick, wicked little smirked. "But, ah…well, she did say that the place they were going was a gay bar over on the north side."

"Really?" Sarah breathed. "And they invited us to come?"

"Uh huh." Nikki smiled. "I think she knew it might be a bit awkward, so she gave me plenty of time to think about it—and to chicken out with some plausible excuse."

Sarah opened her mouth—then closed it again. "I don't see myself getting plenty of time to think about it," Sarah said mildly. "Half a day? Why, by now it's probably too late to back out without being rude, even if we wanted to cancel."

"Ah, well," Nikki shrugged. "I guess I figured you'd want to be sociable, maybe see how the other half—or ten percent, or two percent, or whatever—lives. There didn't seem to be any need to give you too much time to back out."

"You're really quite altruistic, aren't you, roomie?" Sarah smiled wryly.

"Oh, yes," Nikki agreed, "quite." She covered her grin with a long drink of her iced soda.

Sarah thought about it uncertainly. She had nothing against lesbians, of course. After all, when she herself had an idle daydream or two about what it might be like to play with another girl, how could she fault the women who actually lived that life? Some nights Sarah behind her flushed eyelids might imagine kittenish cheerleaders prancing, smirking, beckoning—but girls such as Denise and her friend actually did what the hesitant Sarah only dreamed. Those women really did flirt with other women, dance with them, kiss them…even make love with them. And afterward, aglow with pleasure, such sweetly feminine couples lay together in bed, all naked and smooth, bare arms wrapped about one another in the cool moonlit sheets as they fell contentedly asleep. What a pretty picture it must be, Sarah imagined.

Denise and her girlfriend knew the secrets that Sarah never dared attempt discover. They knew what it was like to let yourself truly lust after another woman, and what a joy it was to strip one bare before your appreciative gaze and make her respond, your lips on the fuzzy nape of her neck, your hands on her jiggling breasts, her fluttering belly, the moistening nest between her helplessly opening thighs. How wildly inflaming it must be, Sarah imagined, to revel in the strange freedom, to do whatever was your crazy, dirty whim and not have to care about what anyone else thought about it!

Yes, Denise and her girlfriend knew what another girl felt like inside, slick and pink and hot and grasping. They knew the heady thrill of pleasuring a young woman relentlessly, lovingly, making her shiver and gasp and cry out in joy. And such women knew what another girl tasted like, too, all hairy and wet, musky and salty-sweet. Oh, that was the ultimate in decadent surrender, it seemed—to dig open a pretty girl's squelching labia and then, breathing raggedly of the secret, deeply evocative odor of feminine excitation, just drop your flushed face gratefully into her welcoming nakedness and lick and suck her juicy p***y until she screamed!.

A fly on the wall of their apartment—or, perhaps, Sarah amended mentally, a curious straight girl somehow invited to watch their lovemaking—could learn a thing or two about making a wench squeal prettily under the ministrations of red lips and tongue wallowing contentedly in the smooth flesh of a wide-open p***y wet with lubrication and with saliva. And if the silent watcher then were invited to join in…oh, how might she finally abandon herself! On the other hand, though, a good girl of course could not agree to such a thing too easily, could she? Despite the wicked curiosities that seethed so powerfully within her, she would have to be coaxed and convinced, seduced almost. What a pretty, flattering game it would be!

And yet if by chance the straight girl finally agreed but then, biting her lip, suddenly got nervous again and tried to back out…well, the lesbians then could just force her, couldn't they? Yes, if that was what it took, they would make the shivering girl experience this liberating act whether she wanted it or not. Oh, they might torment her first, might call her a tease and a flirt, might slap her round ass red and pinch her n*****s vengefully until she squealed. She was completely within their power, they would remind her darkly, and she had no choice but to obey them. Mm, and maybe they would tie her hands behind her narrow back, and maybe not, but one way or another, the foolishly reluctant straight girl was going to end up on her pretty knees before the splayed thighs of some smirking lesbian, shivering to the look in the commanding eyes that leered down so coolly.

The straight girl could only sway there helplessly, exposed and vulnerable before these girls who preyed on other girls, her poor nostrils dilated with the salty-sweet reek of excited womanhood wafting so powerfully up. And as one hard-eyed lesbian, smirking cruelly, grasped her by her long flowing hair and forced her down, the shamed straight girl could only submit, bowing to the undeniable fleshly reality of that which she had craved in such girlish innocence but which now was so terrifyingly immediate. She could only open her trembling lips and feast, helplessly. Cheeks wet with smelly juices, the girl as she progressed would lean ever more hungrily down, filling her mouth with the intimate feminine flavor of savory flesh that veritably writhed under her innocently eager attentions. Her nose would breathe nothing but the damp curls thrust into her wondering nostrils, her eyes see nothing but woman, glistening pink flesh and glossy black hairs! Ah, the surrender!

Sarah shivered suddenly. Such was merely the stuff of fantasy to the imaginative blonde, but to this Denise and her kind it was an everyday occurrence. The thought was perversely compelling.

"Sarah?" wondered Nikki at last, eyeing her closely. "What do you think?"

"Well…" She hesitated.

Yet those behaviors about which Sarah could not help being vaguely curious still were attended with enough of a stigma that she herself never would have considered asking a pair of lesbians if she could go with them to their hangout. She was not afraid that she would do anything weird, for she knew that, despite her secret curiosities, she did indeed like boys. She had discovered that she was perhaps more appreciative of the beauty of other girls than many of her peers were, and she had learned not to discuss such things around those more narrow-minded than herself. No matter what, she was attracted to men far more than—or at least just as much as, she admitted inwardly—she was to women.

She was not afraid of another girl making a pass at her either. It wouldn't happen, she knew— and even if by some chance it did, nothing would come of it. No, there would be no harm. And yet… And yet she knew, secretly, that the thought of some lesbian perhaps flirting with her gave her a terrible, unacknowledged thrill. This again was something she could not have spoken aloud, but the thought that another woman would find her attractive was wildly inflaming. Her heart beat heavily beneath her breasts.

Sarah found herself nodding jerkily. "It can't hurt," she shrugged. "Let's go out with 'em."

"All right," Nikki grinned. "Sounds like fun." The waitress arrived with their food, and idly Nikki watched the supple handfuls of the girl's pretty little breasts jiggle beneath her thin red T-shirt. She pursed her lips and waited until the other had left again. "I'll call Denise and tell her we're coming."

Sarah shook out her paper napkin and set it across her lap. "Gee, how do you dress to go out with lesbians?" she wondered softly.

"Me?" asked Nikki slyly. "Or you?"

"You know what I mean," Sarah smiled. She gestured vaguely with her fork. "I mean, what the hell is the etiquette for straight girls? Do you dress up? Do you go casual? Or what?"

"What would you like to do?" Nikki said levelly.

"Well, I want to avoid looking like a jerk," Sarah shrugged. "I don't want to be patronizing, and look like I'm trying to fit in, and be something I'm not. On the other hand, I don't want to stick out and look like some pith-helmeted Brit coming to observe the natives." She sighed. "Look, just give me the benefit of your budding anthropologist's knowledge of the world's societies and customs, huh, wise-ass?"

"Dress like you would for guys, then," suggested Nikki. "Wear something cute. Hey, how about that red skirt and those red shoes you bought at the mall last semester? The white blouse, too." She licked her lips. "And black nylons, I think," she added. "That'd work well."

Sarah shook her head fondly. "You really like those, don't you?" she chuckled. "Why, it was you who suggested I get that combination in the first place. You know, you can borrow any of that stuff whenever you want."

"Oh, no," Nikki protested, "I like 'em on you." Her eyes twinkled. "Besides," she smirked, "I don't have the hips or the t**s to fill out clothing like that. Those threads are made for stacked blondes like you, not little brunettes like me."

Sarah flushed in pleasure and in embarrassment. How sweet it was of Nikki to compliment her like that, she thought. She sometimes thought her boobs and her hips were too big, and it was endearing that Nikki would reassure her so. She searched quickly for something to say. "Well, look, I'll wear my stuff if you'll wear that slinky little cream dress of yours, the one with the really low back. Then we'll both be ready to do the town."

Nikki smiled prettily at the compliment. "Thanks, Sarah, that's a good idea." Yet suddenly she sighed. "I'll really have to keep my eye on you, though."

"Why?" gasped Sarah, a little guiltily despite herself.

"Well, you really are a number in that outfit," Nikki shrugged in mock innocence. "What happens if some cute dyke tries to pick you up?"

Sarah flushed deeply at the thought. Could it really happen? she wondered uncertainly. What would it feel like to know that another girl thought you were pretty, that you were, well…sexy? What if all you had to do was just nod, and that hungry babe would take you back to her place and expect you to make out with her? What would happen then?

How would it feel to sit there on a couch, say—or in some shuttered bedroom—while another girl looked into your eyes and drummed her fingers casually upon your knee and flirted with you, and suddenly you knew that what she really wanted to do was flip that skirt up over your hips and slide her knowing hand up your shivering thigh until she buried her busy fingers in the squelching mess of your sloppily lubricated p***y? Embarrassingly wet as she chatted so easily with you, you knew, exulting, what she craved—and if you smiled just right, she would fulfill your every dirty fantasy, gratefully. She would strip you bare, and then while you lay there in her bed, flushed and splay limbed and ready, the poor hungry thing would run her supple red lips and her shameless tongue over every trembling inch of your naked skin—flushed throat and rounded shoulders, stiff-nippled breasts and jittery belly, fluttering thighs and lust-reeking wet p***y—probing and licking and sucking until you screamed in unwilling delight! God, the groaning nirvana of that sweet Sapphic indulgence…

"Well?" Nikki egged her on. "What then, roomie?"

"Huh?" Sarah jerked guiltily from her perverse reverie. Her face felt hot.

"What happens if some unsuspecting wench tries to walk off with my favorite roommate?" Nikki wondered. "What then?"

"Well," said Sarah softly, her cheeks burning, "I guess I'd just have to tell her that I need to go home with you."

Dark eyes gleaming, Nikki pursed her crooked red lips and nodded silently in satisfaction.

***