Friday, April 2, 2021

Brainy University - Chapter 5 Part 2

“Well now, at least now you know what you really want. Please, my dear, take a seat. I’m sure we have a good deal to discuss,” Serena invited, gesturing for Regina to take a seat again on her bed.

Regina collected herself and sat down again with her hostess. She could see that Serena Powers was right, and had helped her see herself more clearly. Regina now felt a calm she had never felt before. The platinum-blonde beauty coaxing her to acknowledge her deepest, darkest desires was having an enlightening effect on her, as if a great weight had finally been lifted off her chest.

Ms. Powers allowed Regina to stay late into the night, as the brunette elaborated in detail on the events that brought her to Serena Power’s hotel room. She confided to Serena intimate moments of her past, such as when she realized at an early age that she was different from most girls, in that she found the female gender attractive. This time Serena did not dismiss her words.

At some point in her girlhood, Regina developed a crush on a close friend, Lulu Perlman, an infatuation so secret and hidden that even she did not see it for what it was for a while. When she finally did--as she, over time found herself increasingly attracted to her close friend, to the point she couldn’t overlook her true feelings any longer--she examined herself and the reactions she had felt to other pretty girls, as well, and saw, for the first time, that she might be a lesbian. Further experiences, reflection, and self-examination confirmed that supposition to her. It was a realization that sent a thrilling joy through her, for at last she understood the powerful draw she had always felt to females and what direction her life would take, sexually and romantically, from that point on.

Lulu’s beauty was still fresh in Regina’s mind. Over the course of their acquaintance, as it progressed into their teenage years, Lulu grew her silky brunette locks ever longer, taking great pride in that endeavor, until they flowed down past her waist. Regina remembered the way her crystal blue eyes sparkled when they caught the rays of the sun at just the right angle, and the smooth, sexy curves of her body that enticed many of the boys in her hometown vying for her attention.

However, Lulu generally kept the boys at bay and politely declined any attempts at courtship, partly because her father was the pastor of the evangelical protestant church and she didn’t want to do anything that could bring scandal or shame to her family. Unfortunately, Regina misconstrued this into believing that Lulu was possibly gay like her.

Regina recalled on one crisp autumn evening she and Lulu were in a secluded part of the community park. It was just them, together, alone with one another, not a single soul to bother them, just two friends giggling and goofing off with one another. The atmosphere was charged with something that made Regina’s heart skip a beat with giddiness. In a moment of lapsed judgement, Regina leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on Lulu’s soft, plump lips. She could still recall the taste of the cherry lip balm that was on her friend’s lips.

In response, Lulu slapped Regina hard across her face, knocking her down, and quickly distancing herself. In disgust, she started spitting on the ground as if something foul had been put into her mouth.

“G-g-get the hell away from me!… Y-you f-f-filthy…DYKE!” Lulu screamed as she put more distance between Regina and herself.

“Wait, Lulu. I didn’t mean to... It's just… please,” Regina pleaded to her friend as she tried to reach for Lulu. However, Lulu jerked back in disgust and stumbled away, adding to the separation between them. Regina realized it was too late when Lulu ran off, leaving a distraught Regina behind.

It took awhile for her to regain her composure, but Regina managed to make her way home, only to be greeted there by two angry parents. Her father grabbed her and threw her to the floor, screaming, “Harlot, whore, filthy bitch!” He removed his belt and whipped her with it. Her mother just stood there, Bible in hand, and began reciting scripture as her father continued his assault.

Apparently Lulu had told her father what had occurred at the park and he, in turn, had contacted Regina’s parents, informing them that their depraved daughter had tried to sexually assault his Lulu. Of course, her narrow-minded parents apologetically informed him that they would handle the situation and would ensure that such a scandalous thing would never happen again.

Her father, taking a break from beating her, yelled, “I will NOT have my daughter become a damned DYKE SLUT!! Do you hear me?! You will never do anything depraved again!! If you don’t promise me that, I’ll beat you to an inch of your life!!!” Regina’s silence refueled his rage and he resumed his beating for another minute, before letting her run to her room and repair herself as best she could.

True to their word, after her initial punishment at the hand of her father, whenever Regina came home from school for the next week, her father beat her more, each time worse than the previous episode, lacing his violence with cursings and escalating threats, promising, “By hell, I’m going to beat the queerness out of you,” while her mother did nothing but preach inane biblical scripture. Additionally, both Lulu’s family and Regina’s parents spread the word around town about Regina’s indiscretion, so that Regina also had to endure additional torments and threats from the students at her school and the residents of her hometown. However, being headstrong and convinced she could never follow the heterosexual life they insisted for her, she refused to change, or to give anyone the slightest satisfaction that she would yield, even if it came at the cost of her life. Regina had never particularly liked boys and men before this, but the beatings administered to her by her father made her hate men. Her mother’s failure to stand by her or to even try to understand her also left her with a distaste for straight women, especially pious, modest, traditional women like her, and she came to see them only as potential lesbians waiting for someone like herself to help them transform, to liberate them from the confining bonds of heterosexuality.

However, she wasn’t stupid. Regina knew that staying with her parents was an evitable death sentence. At the end of that week, she managed to gather what belongings she could and to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night. Regina abandoned her small town and never looked back. She made her way up to Lexington and managed to find employment at the hotel. From there it was serendipitous luck that she ended up crossing paths with Serena Powers.

After recounting the traumatic past she had to endure and how events led her to tonight, arriving in Serena Power’s room, Regina slowly turned her gaze to meet Serena Power’s and found herself mesmerized by the ashen-blonde woman’s stare. Losing herself in Serena’s seductive eyes and having been unable not to notice how ravishingly beautiful the mature woman looked, Regina could feel her pulse quicken, an all too familiar excited shortness in her breathing, and the quivers of lust coming from her groin.

“That’s quite an interesting tale. So what are your plans?” Serena asked as she feigned interest in the unfortunate events that had led the pretty young thing to her doorstep.

“I was hoping that you could h-hel… I mean, show me how I can get my revenge on all those ignorant idiots...to make their lives just as miserable as they’ve made mine!” Regina exclaimed, the tone in her voice changing from that of the timid girl who escaped from her small Kentucky town to one of cold indifference, to that of a woman scorned and seeking vengeance.

“I could...but there is a price to pay for such... services,” Serena softly insinuated, as she seductively walked her index and middle fingers up Regina’s thigh.

“I-I’ll pay whatever you want.”

“Very good, my dear girl. Now, without further adieu, let me show you what I can offer you.” The sinister tone in Serena’s voice was lost on Regina as she saw the powerful woman lean closer and then plant a kiss on her young lips.

Regina could only make small throaty moans of pleasure as she felt Serena’s soft lips press against hers. The blonde then skillfully worked her slick tongue into Regina’s eager mouth. The majority of the night was spent in each woman willfully allowing the other to perform sapphic act after act on her receptive body, all of which was new to the heretofore virginal young brunette. Nothing was considered taboo, every orifice was explored, and new heights of pleasure for Regina were reached. Serena found great enjoyment in introducing her pretty new acquaintance to the throws of sapphic pleasure and in devouring her curvaceous young body.

Starting the next day, true to her word, Serena Powers took Regina under her wing. She introduced her to various people of influence, gave her a place within the Hecate hierarchy, and set her up in luxury accommodations, where her every need was met. She became and remained one of Serena's favorite lovers. Regina, being thankful and not wanting to disappoint this generous goddess, worked her way up within the Hecate organization to her current position with fierce loyalty and ruthless, vicious efficiency.

Her crowning achievement was coming back to her backwoods hick town under the guise of savior. The town was on the verge of financial ruin, as the employer of the vast majority of the townsfolk, and, thus, the area's primary source of jobs and income, the coal mining company, was rumored to be considering shutting the local mine down due to declining profitability and to concentrate on operations overseas. The truth, however, which Regina knew, was that the mining company was probably not going to be closing, certainly not completely and, if they did, it wasn’t going to be soon.

When she breezed into town, a made-over appearance and style and her new sense of confidence and aura of power made it so that no one could recognize her, not even her own simpleton parents. She presented herself as an entrepreneur looking to make an investment and save the town from economic ruin. She played upon the rumors about the mine until there was a common hysteria, and she and her team convinced a majority to look to her for rescue.

Regina relished everyone trying to kiss her ass and appease her.

It wasn’t long before she set her plans in motion, which looked so promising that a great many folkes and small businesses in the area invested their savings and went into debt, mortgaging their houses and taking out loans on their businesses, to support her scheme. One of her aims was to manipulate the owners of the mine to close the mine, completely and immediately, which she accomplished. By the time she left, she had not only not solved any of the problems her former neighbors thought were imminent, but had left the town and its residents in utter ruin, having led them into an economic disaster much more precipitous and devastating than the mere closing of their mine was, and leaving them no possible hopes of recovering. No one was spared from what she believed was her righteous wraith, not her parents, not Lulu, and not even those who had never personally known Regina.

Back at her office on the current day of our story, Regina was reclining back in her office chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. She wasn’t sure what had brought up the unpleasant memories of her beginnings and her exquisite revenge on her hometown, but she was beyond that. She had left that part of her life behind and embraced the new life she had forged with her own determination, wit, and sheer force of will...and with the help of her beloved Goddess.

It was at this point she heard a gentle knocking on her office door. Quickly straightening her appearance, Regina called out for the person to enter her office.

Opening the door, Sandra Kelly walked in, holding a manila folder in one hand and a medium-sized pink gift bag in the other. Sandra was a constant source of minor frustration for Regina. A disapproving scowl appeared on her face as she recalled the debacle with the European branch of Hecate in which Sandra got her involved.

If Regina’s first reaction to Sandra’s presence was annoyance, her next reaction, after she had a look at the pretty black-haired woman, was quite the opposite. Sandra was wearing a very tight button-up dress shirt of black satin that did a nice job of showing off the sexy figure of Sandra’s upper half. Her lower half was in a neatly pressed pair of khaki pants that teased her womanly features constrained within. Her eyes wandering up, Regina saw that Sandra still had her black locks in her raven wing bob cut, but this time it looked like Sandra had done something different with her bangs, being curled in and showing shimmering dark blue highlights worked in. Further inspection revealed that Sandra had painted her lips with a dark red velvet color, her eyelashes had been made to look enticing with coal black mascara, and her eyelids were accented by an application of purple eyeshadow. Regina took note of a faint smell of vanilla-based perfume coming from Sandra’s direction. While Regina didn’t want to like this chronic pest, she couldn’t help herself in this moment...but she wasn’t going to let on.

“Well...Security Commander Kelly...to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Regina greeted with acidic indifference.

Sandra instinctively flinched when Regina addressed her by the title assigned to her. It generally meant that Regina was not in any mood for games, playful banter, or anything she deemed unnecessary.

“I-I just came by to drop off the report that you wanted,” Sandra said with tense trepidation, not wanting to provoke her beloved Regina any further than necessary.

Regina just raised an eyebrow in response. She knew Sandra well enough to suspect that this was more than an errand or a routine office visit.

“Well, if that’s the case, just set the file on my desk and you can take your leave, Commander.”

Sandra stepped closer and placed the file on Regina’s desk per her instructions. However, there was something more she wanted to say, but wasn’t sure whether it would exacerbate the tension in the air or, maybe, smooth things over. Sandra was hoping for the latter.

It’s now or never, Sandra thought to herself while trying to muster the courage for what she wanted to do. Regina just sat there staring at Sandra cooly, wondering why she hadn’t left her office yet.

Sandra slowly placed the pink gift bag on Regina’s desk in front of her crush. Regina eyed her with suspicion, then stared at the pink bag placed in front of her.

“What is this?” Regina said in her icy demeanor as she gestured to the pink gift bag.

“I-It’s a… um… an apology gift,” Sandra answered sheepishly, while she did her best to avoid Regina’s gaze. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Regina reached into the bag and pulled out a glass bottle filled with brown-amber liquid. It was a vintage bottle of Cognac. Regina knew that it was pricey, but also that Sandra was more than able to afford it; after all, she did sign Sandra’s paychecks. She considered just dumping it in the trash can next to her desk in front of Sandra to further illustrate her displeasure with the woman standing before her, but she opted instead on simply setting the bottle down on her desk. Regina leaned toward Sandra a bit and tented her fingers together.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you...and...and that I hope that we...uh...you and I...um...can...you know...”


“I have no idea what you mean, Security Commander Kelly. As far as I’m aware, there’s nothing really between us.”

The statement struck Sandra like a dagger to her breast. Regina being so dismissive, and to just outright say that the intimacy they shared was nothing, stung her heart. Being blinded by infatuation for the woman before her, Sandra was oblivious to the fact that at times Regina did truly view their relationship as nothing more than a work-related one with a few perks...although...despite what Regina was saying, Sandra occupied a soft spot in Regina’s heart, as well, one actually quite hot for Sandra, a spot Regina tried to suppress, and usually did, but a spot which Sandra sensed lurked persistently underneath Regina’s cool exterior, and one which Sandra felt she could touch and, in fact, knew she had stirred before.

“Come on, Regina. You don’t really mean that, do you?”

Regina just narrowed her eyes menacingly and glared at Sandra. Her lack of response and the silence in the office gave a clear indication of what her current emotional state towards Sandra was.

Not wanting to further provoke Regina and feeling defeated, Sandra made her way toward the door to Regina’s office. The visible hurt expression on Sandra’s face and seeing her dejected body posture gave Regina some satisfaction, but it quickly vanished. Then Regina found she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. She didn’t know why, but Regina reasoned that it wasn’t really Sandra’s fault that she found her so desirable. After all, Regina was an exquisite beauty, and it was only natural for weak-willed individuals like Sandra to worship those they deemed superior. Regina herself worshipped Goddess in no small part because of the pearly blonde’s divine beauty. Plus, Regina had to begrudgingly admit the sex between them was pretty good and something she would miss if she truly cut off all ties with this woman who otherwise caused her so much irritation in her life. Mmmmm… She looks so hot...dammit… I can’t live with her...but I can’t live without her...

I know that I’m going to regret this later down the road, Regina thought to herself as she rolled her eyes in frustration and drew a deep breath before exclaiming, “Wait”. The all too familiar commanding voice caused Sandra to stop cold in her tracks as her heart skipped a beat in response. She immediately turned back around and faced Regina with eager anticipation.

“Yes, Regina?” said Sandra with a touch of joy in her voice.

Getting up from her desk, Regina gave Sandra an unobstructed view of her foxy body. Regina had on a business jacket of thin vertical black and white stripes that wrapped around the upper half of her sexy figure, over a cream-colored silk button-up blouse with just enough of the buttons undone to expose Regina’s luscious breasts to Sandra’s view. She also wore a loose, pleated skater-style miniskirt of shiny polyester and spandex blend material, along with tan-colored nylons.

Her gaze lustfully moving upwards, Sandra took note of Regina’s lips, her very kissable lips, painted in an alluring Spanish red. Bringing up her right hand, Regina made a come-hither gesture with her index finger. Sandra could see that Regina’s well-manicured fingernails were also painted the same color as her seductive lips.

Sandra eagerly closed the distance between them, her heart racing with an excitement which built with each step she took. Entranced by Regina’s sexual beauty, Sandra’s eyes continued to roam all over Regina’s face. Sandra noticed that Regina had mascara that gave her eyelashes a thick and vibrant look. The edges of her eyelids were covered in a dark purple eyeliner, complemented by a soft milky jade-green eyeshadow. The look Regina was giving her no longer bespoke indifference and was already igniting the fires of lust between Sandra’s legs.

“Last we left off, I believe someone was in the process of expressing how sorry they were for getting their friend and beautiful superior involved in a debacle involving a job transfer.”

Sandra dropped to her knees as she groveled before the woman who captured her heart. “I am. Please, Regina, believe me. I never meant for the situation to get out of hand. I...I only wanted you. I thought you’d end up happy, too. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry,” she tearfully pleaded.

Looking down at Sandra, Regina couldn’t help but be touched by Sandra’s tears, sincerity, and obvious love for her, and it stirred her latent feelings for the pretty woman, but she also let out a playful chuckle. This was a game she knew all too well. She and Sandra had played it so many times.

“I know you are, my dear...but...if there was some way that you could prove it... After all, I'm the injured party here, and I think I’m more than within my rights to ask for some showing of atonement,” Regina uttered seductively. She turned, leaned over her desk, propping herself up on her forearms, stuck her butt out into Sandra’s face, and gave it a cute wiggle, suggestively, sordidly enticing her.

Picking up on Regina’s signal, Sandra lifted Regina’s skirt and snuggled her face into the warm cheeks of Regina’s beautiful pantyhose-clad butt, letting out a contented sigh as she savored the physical contact with Regina’s heavenly behind and the silky nylon covering it.

Her mind flooding with the desire to perform a barrage of lewd acts on the luscious ass presented to her, Sandra disengaged herself from Regina’s cute butt and, with trembling hands, fumbled with the button and zipper on the side of Regina’s fetching little miniskirt.

Soon she had the skirt down and pooled around Regina’s ankles. With a little nudge, Sandra had Regina lift her feet, one after the other, encased as they were in the cutest pair of hot-rod-red six-inch stiletto heels, then she quickly cast aside the skirt and heels. Turning her focus onto Regina’s right foot, she planted soft butterfly kisses all over it before working her way from Regina’s toes upwards along Regina’s nylon-clad leg to her groin.

Giving Regina a knowing look, Sandra gently rolled the pantyhose down the length of her gorgeous legs, past her thighs, past her calves, and off her toes. Upon completely removing Regina’s panty hose, Sandra had Regina lean back against her desk and again gently lifted up Regina’s right foot. This time she gave it a gentle lover’s massage, in turn eliciting a small purr of approval from her.

Just as Regina knew the sexual inner workings of Sandra., Sandra also knew a few of Regina’s kinks and what got her motor really running. She knew that Regina had a thing for a little foot play before engaging in lesbian sex, enough that she sometimes incorporated it into their lovemaking sessions. Now Sandra’s assumption that foot play might turn Regina on in their current situation was confirmed, as she could see the tell-tale wet spot on the black lace panties, letting her know that her efforts were not in vain.

A series of fondling caresses, gentle kisses, and sucking and tonguing acts on Regina’s manicured toes, making Regina whimper, emboldened Sandra to take a more invasive step. Leaning in, she inserted her nose right up into the crotch panel of Regina’s panties and took a deep breath, inhaling Regina’s womanly scent while pressing her nose into her companion’s slit through the fabric. Sandra let out a guttural moan of pleasure as she took a whiff, while a softer mew passed Regina’s lips.

Looking up, Sandra gave Regina a wanting look, waiting for Regina to give the signal that she could proceed further, which she did, as Regina returned the lustful gaze and gave her an approving nod.

In a quick motion, Sandra slid Regina’s panties off her legs, exposing Regina’s smooth, hairless groin to her view. The lips of Regina’s pussy were clearly aroused and wet with need and desire. Spreading apart her superior’s legs to give her better access, Sandra looked up, giving Regina a knowing smirk. In response, the brunette could only mutter, “Just do it already!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sandra immediately dove in and began her oral assault on Regina’s heavenly gate. As the sharp spike of pleasure lanced up from her wet pussy, traveled up her spine, and blasted her brain, Regina arched her back and grabbed the back of Sandra’s head, pulling her mouth more tightly into her crotch.

Sandra was in heaven as she proceeded her oral ministrations on Regina’s pussy. Her fingers gently pried apart Regina’s aroused pussy lips, exposing the wet, pink inner flesh to her skillful tongue. She savored the flavor of Regina’s divine female honey.

On the other side, Regina was doing her best to maintain control. Her body trembled as Sandra worked her skilled tongue in, out, and around her excited slit. She let out a sudden gasp as she felt Sandra gently suckle on her erect clit, which in turn caused more pleasurable convulsions to flow through her body. Accompanying the physical pleasure, she started to feel an emotion build within her: love. Love for Sandra. But she didn’t want to be trapped by such a feeling for this pretty black-haired nuisance. Plus, she was not going to let this vixen, this inferior, dictate the how and when of her impending orgasm.

Not like this, Regina thought to herself. If she was going to cum, it would be on her own terms, not on Sandra’s. Mustering what will she could, Regina pushed Sandra away from her loins. Taking deep breaths to help calm her, she saw the look of disappointment and the pouting face that Sandra was giving her. In response, Regina just gave her a smarmy smile.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. Deep down, you know how this relationship works,” Regina stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Me on top and in charge.” She then reached for a small remote lying on top of her desk and pressed the red center button. Sandra heard the soft sounds of whirring gears and folding metal. Turning her head toward the source, she witnessed the office couch transform into a large bed.

“Oh my! When did you have this installed in your office?” Sandra said in a playful teasing manner.

“Came with the office,” Regina responded nonchalantly.

“What do you plan to do with it?”

Leaning over, Regina seductively whispered into Sandra’s ear. “I plan on having wild debauched lesbian sex on it, and, if you want in on that action, I highly recommend that you strip down naked and hop on it, ASAP!”

Regina didn’t have to repeat the invitation. Sandra excitedly stripped off her clothes, pausing for a few seconds after she was topless to cup and caress her breasts in front of Regina, for her, giving her a flirty look, knowing the effect that would have on her, which effect was confirmed by the rapt attention in Regina’s eyes. Almost tripping in her haste to remove her pants and panty-briefs off in one big go, she then fumbled her way over to the bed. Sandra placed herself on her hands and knees on the springy mattress. Looking over her shoulder, Sandra gave Regina a naughty smile as she wiggled her bare ass at Regina, inviting her over.

Aggghh! Why does she have to be so cute?!

Regina opened a large drawer in her desk and pulled out a leather harness with a large purple dildo attachment to it, along with a bottle of lube. The dildo was about nine inches in length and about one inch in diameter, with a bulbous tip and some ridges along the shaft. On the other side of the crotch panel was a small protrusion jutting out of it, about four inches in length, intended to slide into the female wearer’s pussy.

Discarding the rest of her clothes, Regina threaded the harnesses through her legs and worked the strap-on up to her hips. She let out a low moan as she gently worked the smaller end into her excited pussy. Soon after securing the sexual instrument by fastening the harness, Regina seductively walked over to Sandra and, with a lecherous grin on her face, pointed the bulbous tip of the dildo at Sandra’s exposed rear, as if it were guiding her.

Upon arriving at her destination, Regina popped the cap off the bottle of lube and poured some of its slick liquid contents on the rigid shaft. Slathering the shaft up and down with lube with her right hand, she used her left to pour a good amount of lube all over Sandra’s rear.

Sandra let out a gasp as the lukewarm lube made contact with her exposed skin and then mewled in pleasure as she felt her beloved massage the slippery liquid all over her ass and into her asscrack. She put herself into a face down, ass up position, trying to push more of her butt into Regina’s hands, which continued to grope and molest the lube-covered cheeks of Sandra’s posterior for another minute.

Then Regina trailed her fingers down to Sandra’s pussy, where Sandra expected Regina’s main assault to occur. The brunette fox began to trace her left index finger along the slick outer lips of Sandra’s aroused sex, making her mew. The fingers of her right hand joined the tease, diddling Sandra’s clit, while the fingers of the left hand pressed into the slit and played along the sensitive inner lips. “Ooooo, yes! Please …” Sandra whimpered.

“What was that? I didn’t catch what you said, Sandra. You need to speak up,” Regina teased.

“Fuck me, my beloved,” Sandra softly pleaded to Regina. “Please.”

“In due time, my dear, in due time,” Regina assured. Wanting more, Sandra tried to maneuver her pussy so it would catch more of Regina’s fingers and plunge them into the depths of her sexually aching cunt.

Regina callously smirked at Sandra’s eager desire for vaginal penetration. She had, of course, expected this. However, she maneuvered her fingers away from Sandra’s desired target, keeping the raven-haired woman on the edge of sexual release. She had a different hole in mind that she felt needed penetration.

To Sandra’s surprise, she felt Regina’s hands return to her ass and slide into her asscrack, deeper than before. It felt nice, but Sandra wondered what Regina was up to. Then she felt a finger trace around the puckered hole of her ass, which caused her to turn her head in surprise. Regina disregarded her companion’s reaction; this was what Regina wanted and needed. She began to work her slick finger into Sandra’s anal cavity. Sandra gasped audibly.

“W-wait, Regina! Maybe...maybe we should *oh!!* t-talk about t-this…” Sandra stuttered with trepidation as she felt Regina work her finger into her ass.

Despite all the brainwashing and mental manipulation that Sandra had undergone during her earlier years at Hecate, she had never been a big fan of anal intercourse. She had never been the one to bring up or to initiate the taboo act as something to be performed on her rear, nor did she make active attempts to anally penetrate the females with whom she had dalliances. Sandra couldn’t figure out what was supposedly so great about anal sex, and steered away from it when it came to her lesbian trysts, with the exception of a select few individuals. Regina was one of those few she would allow access to her puckered hole, but they hadn’t done it for a while.

All of this Regina knew. She knew that Sandra was not one to eagerly partake in anal lesbian sex and had somewhat of an aversion to it, but Regina knew the raven-haired lass enough to know that she could manipulate Sandra to take it like a champ...and to eventually like it. Sandra only offered token resistance as Regina continued to pump her finger in and out of her ass.

The fact that she was causing Sandra some form of discomfort put a wicked smile on her face. It’s only fair, Regina thought to herself. Since Sandra could, at times, be a metaphorical pain in her ass, so Regina, she concluded, had the right to return the favor...but in a more literal sense.

Feeling that she had sufficiently lubed and dilated Sandra’s asshole with her finger, Regina then parted the firm cheeks of her partner’s ass and aimed her strap-on dildo at the puckered entrance to Sandra’s rectum. She positioned the bulbous head of the wicked instrument of love right on the anal opening, then pushed slowly into it.

As she felt Regina’s strap-on begin its invasion of her anal cavity, Sandra let out a sharp hiss. She balled her hands into fists, clutching at the bedsheets, and took deep breaths to help her relax and allow the intrusion to happen with minimal fuss, hoping to get it over with as fast as possible.

Regina took her time working the hard shaft into Sandra’s rectum. While one of her goals was to inflict discomfort and even some pain on Sandra, as payback for being a presumptuous nuisance, she did not aim to permanently injure her, nor to cause her everlasting psychological harm, either. On the contrary, she wanted Sandra to learn to love this act, to experience and relish the pleasure she knew could be had from such intercourse, and to want more of it in the future, maybe to even come to crave it. Regina thought it would be a delightful comeuppance, in fact, if Sandra developed an addiction or fetish for the very anal sex play which she once dreaded and disdained. But there was also a part of Regina which now cared enough about Sandra--a part which Regina would not want anyone to know existed, and which she hid most of the time from herself, as well--to want her to relish a wider spectrum of lesbian sexually for the intrinsic joy it would bring her.

Additionally, though, she saw Sandra’s reluctance as a personal challenge. She knew the vast majority of people would regard anal sex as a sickening abomination which they would never consider doing, and would feel grossly violated if it happened to them. Despite her brainwashing some years ago, Sandra still had much of that particular traditional perspective lingering within her. It was time to corrupt that residual conventionality out of her, Regina reflected, making her a more completely depraved lesbian slut than she already was. Maybe I’d like her better if she wasn’t such a wuss about certain taboos like this one... Yesss… I would like her better if she were a fiend for anal sex… That’s what she’s going to become!

This wouldn’t be the first woman Regina had coaxed into an affection for anal play. There had been many, and she knew how to do it. In fact, she hoped that would be one of the results of her seduction of the beautiful Miss Claire Love-Livingston. Regina had heard that her associates in California had been making some remarkable progress with Claire’s sister, Wendy, in this regard. In the past when Regina had done Sandra anally, she had not taken the time to do it very erotically, not caring much about Sandra’s pain nor about her pleasure, but using the woman indifferently, and callously seeking her own pleasure, then putting the woman down in her place afterwards--as usual for her with Sandra. This time, however, would be different.

Watching with glee, Regina observed the strap-on move bit by bit and slowly disappear into Sandra’s ass. Once she had gotten a good majority of the artificial cock buried into Sandra’s ass, Regina paused and waited a bit, allowing her partner to get used to the large invader up her butt. Regina gently caressed the cheeks of Sandra’s delectable ass, and spoke to her suggestively, in an effort to help soothe her.

“Mmmmm...so good...feels wonderful...such a sexy, naughty thing...your sweet, beloved Regina...up your ass...filling you...makes you feel so good...so very, very sexy...mmmmmm…”

Her efforts were rewarded. A soft moan of pleasure mixed with the grunts of ache emanating from Sandra.

Feeling that she had given Sandra enough time to get used to the feeling of her artificial cock up her rectum, and to start liking it, Regina grabbed hold of Sandra’s hips and began a slow, rhythmic piston motion. Soon after, Regina leaned up against Sandra, pressing her impressive breasts into Sandra’s back, as she reached around and began to play with Sandra’s aroused tits, both women relishing the feeling of the pinching, pulling, and rubbing of the hard fleshy nubs between Regina’s thumbs and index fingers.

It didn’t take long for Sandra’s groans of discomfort to more completely transform into moans of pleasure as she felt Regina skillfully fuck her ass with her strap-on. Wanting to add to the pleasure, Sandra maneuvered her right hand between her legs to work in tandem with Regina’s anal fucking. However, to her surprise, Regina swatted the hand away and, leaning closer, whispered, “If you cum, it’s going to be on my terms, not yours. Understand, Sandra?”

A guttural moan was Sandra’s response. “Good girl.” Regina planted several soft kisses along her partner’s neck and back. “You want more of this, don’t you? You like getting fucked in the ass...by me…by the woman you love... You want more of me...and more of this...up your sweet ass...don’t you?”

“Oh....Regina...I...I...Yes!...I do!...I think...ooooo...I...I actually like this...”

“Very good girl.” Wanting more of Regina, however she could, Sandra started to slowly rock her body back and forth, timing it so her ass would meet with Regina’s thrust, clearly indicating her agreement to Regina’s terms and her embracing of the anal euphoria being doled out to her. A minute later, a loud shriek of pleasure rushed out her lips. Sandra felt Regina’s hand go between her legs. During the long duration of one of the highest climaxes Sandra could remember ever having, Regina’s skilled fingers played with Sandra’s wet pussy, exploring it and teasing her aroused clit, extending and heightening Sandra’s bliss. All Sandra could do was whimper, as she begged for more.

“Ohhh, Regina… I...ahhh...I Iove this!...mmmmmmm... soooo goooood…mooooore...please… I...I love... you!”

Regina began to feel the onset of her own orgasm building up, as her own pussy could feel the small protrusion from the strap-on grind against the excited nerves within it. She picked up her rhythmic pounding of Sandra’s ass as she felt her groin spasm with lust.

Soon, both women screamed as their respective orgasms ripped through their bodies, both women convulsing as the after effects of pleasure pulsed through every nerve in their bodies. Sandra cooed as she felt her ass spasm on Regina’s hard shaft and Regina felt her own pussy twitch against the strap-on protrusion.

For a few minutes, both women, one bent over the other, savored the lovely, gradually declining convulsions, one in her anus and the other in her pussy, in the aftermath of their lesbian intercourse and the conjoining of their curvaceous naked bodies. They both collapsed onto the bed, the drenched phallus plopping audibly out of Sandra’s wonderfully sore ass. Sandra slid her arms around Regina’s shoulder, pulling her in close to whisper, “Thank you, my love. I love you.”

Regina felt a strong urge to respond with a similar sentiment, but, knowing if she did, everything would be different between them from then on, and it might well put her on a path of monogamy with Sandra, which she did not want, she restrained herself. Instead, they joined their mouths for a long, open-mouthed kiss.

Sometime later, Regina found herself staring up at the ceiling of her office, lying in bed, covered by the bedsheets, with a content Sandra snuggled up against her, the strap-on that was once wrapped around her hips and up Sandra’ ass cast aside onto the floor, both basking in the pleasant afterglow of their Sapphic lovemaking.

Looking down at the blissfully unaware woman who clung to her, the one who at times had been a source of frustration for her, but who now seemed to be such a natural and fitting companion for her, and who had once again proven herself to be an ardent and gratifying lover. Pondering the make-up sex that had just occurred, Regina wondered whether she truly viewed Sandra as a thorn in her side. If so, why she hadn’t fully cut the woman out of her life? Was Sandra winning her over? As ludicrous as that seemed, could it be? The thought that she had somehow grown accustomed to Sandra, and maybe even liked her, caused her to shudder.

Regina was fully aware that Sandra was seeking a more personal, intimate relationship with her, but Regina wasn’t that kind of person, or wanted to be that kind of person to Sandra. She was a woman who savored the thrill of the hunt, and her position within Hecate’s organization provided a myriad of options to choose from. She definitely didn’t want to give that up. Further, if she were to seriously entertain the thought of entering into a monogamous lesbian relationship, there was only one person she would be willing to do so with, and that person was Goddess, aka Serena Powers. However, given what she knew about Serena Powers, it was plain to Regina that an exclusive relationship with Goddess was about as likely to happen as being struck by a bolt of lightning on a bright, clear, sunny day. When she first met the blonde beauty, she had hopes of such a relationship with her, and Goddess’s interest in her made it seem like destiny. She knew she was beautiful enough, but it was nevertheless not to be. Goddess was not a one-woman woman, it became clear with time, although Regina was clearly one of Serena’s favorites. Regina had by now accepted reality, and was grateful for the time and favored standing she did have with Serena. Otherwise, she took her fun as opportunity crossed her path, without commitment or entanglement, and dealt with the issues of love and sex and her line of work as they popped up...especially, currently, with the challenging, yet very fun and exciting ones that came in the form of a certain bewitching raven-haired lass.

The question had crossed Regina’s mind since she had first met Miss Love-Livingston, what would she, Regina, do if Goddess gave the girl to her? Could the black-haired coed be the one for whom she would change her whole, cynical approach to love and with whom she would consider settling down? It was highly unlikely that Goddess would let her have Claire like that, for a long-term and mutually committed relationship...but...what if…? She always came to the same conclusion when that issue crossed her mind: She, Regina, wasn’t one to settle down. It wouldn’t work out. Goddess wouldn’t allow it. It wasn’t meant to be. Even if Regina might have that with someone else, as unlikely as that appeared...in the end, anything permanent with the beautiful coed would probably be off-limits. Probably. Or……..maybe……..maybe if Goddess felt very generous...then....

Regina knew Goddess’s planned destiny for Claire well. She would couple with several girls and women--Abby, Meredith, Monica, Jessica, Traci, Natasha, Wendy, Mary, and others--including Regina. But she would marry Jessica. Regina could always be one of her lovers, but ultimately not the preeminent one in Claire's life. Unless Goddess changed her mind. Sometimes she did. And she was generous. So...there was a chance...maybe...maybe not...

Knowing she was not likely to get a final resolution, one way or the other, to her relationship with and feelings for the beautiful Claire Love-Livingston anytime soon, Regina turned her full attention to the smooth-skinned, curvy, fragrant, naked woman in her arms currently, the one she had fucked up her ass--and made her love it--not that long before, the woman who, she knew, loved her faithfully and passionately. Feeling Sandra gently rub up against her body and issue a soft, contented purr from their intense fuck session, Regina couldn’t help but smile, just a little. Regina gently slid her hand over Sandra’s head and began to gently play with her hair, twirling it in her fingers. She loved the shine, the softness, and the black color of the hair of the woman in her arms, and particularly Sandra’s bangs and the blue streaks running through them, and she played with them, too. She wondered what the pretty woman would look like if she streaked all of her hair with blue, or simply dyed it all solid blue. The thought intrigued her.

Regina’s eyes roved over the young woman’s smooth, nude body. Finding herself unable to keep her hands off the perky breasts jutting from the chest before her, she cupped them, and ran her fingertips softly over the pink nipples she saw, until she witnessed them, with gratification, start to rise and harden, and heard her softly moan again. She bent down to kiss the top of her companion’s head, glad the beauty was asleep and wouldn’t know of the affection her beloved superior was feeling and showing in this moment.

Such a sexy little thing… So beautiful... When she’s not a monstrous pain in my ass...she can be so cute... Regina reflected peacefully about the woman in her arms, kissing her hair again, then her cheek, as she continued to look at the napping Sandra, while caressing her head and body carefully, so as not to wake her yet.

********************

Monica was uncomfortable. The passenger seat in Meredith’s yellow compact car in which she found herself was too small, too poorly cushioned, and too hard to adjust, and there was too much vibration and noise in the ride, at least in comparison to what she was used to, her own roomy, quiet, plush luxury sedan. She found it hard to stop fidgeting...but she would endure. After all, this was the vehicle owned by her date, Meredith, a woman for whom she was now feeling fond...quite fond. If this was Meredith’s, then she would not only adapt to it, but she would like the car, as well. Everything about Meredith, including her possessions, seemed special. Enduring a few minor bumps and physical restrictions was the least she could do to be with such an amazing girl.

Monica noticed that she had to clarify that word for herself, as it might Monica noticed that she had just referred to Meredith as her date in her thoughts, and she felt that she had to clarify that word for herself, as it might apply to herself and Meredith in this situation, or to make excuses for it. She told herself that this wasn’t really a date-date, like equivalent to a boy-girl date, or a date involving two lesbians (although in actuality it felt very much like that, if not like the most exciting date she had ever been on, so far). No, that wouldn’t be it at all, since she, Monica, was as straight as a girl could be, and Meredith probably was, too. She and Meredith had only used that word, she rationalized, because they didn’t know what else to call two girls, two good friends who were girls, spending time together like this, and, in the heat of the moment, grasping for some term that they could use, they had simply landed on “date”...that’s all. Monica kept trying to reassure herself that this outing was just about two young female friends wanting to get to know each other better and trying to repair a damaged relationship, and start a new one, and that nothing more than that would happen, especially something of a sexual nature.

However...deep down in the pits of her altered subconscious mind...her views of what they were doing and the desires she felt in dating Meredith were exactly the opposite. Monica had been on lots of dates, with guys, so she knew well what a date was and wasn’t, and what it felt like. This definitely felt like a date, a real date, a date date, like the dates she had been on with guys, except this one, with a girl, with this girl, with this darling girl, was so much more exciting and romantic-feeling than anything she had experienced with a guy. She was hoping, so secretly that her conscious personality did not acknowledge it, that this date would lead to something more, to a higher, more precious, more sensual type of relationship, to hugs and touches and caresses, to confidences shared, and to romance, and that this date might even end with them in their shared bed later that night with them admitting their sexual attraction for one another and in adventurous sexual embraces.

Monica’s desire for her bedmate bubbled up from the hidden wells within her. Monica could feel her nipples harden and rub against the fabric of her bra, along with flickers of lust emanating from between her legs. Her discomfort in trying to contain her arousal was compounded by the discomfort of the passenger seat. Monica was set into a restless, squirming mood, which Meredith picked up on.

“Something wrong, Monica?” Meredith asked with concern. “Are you okay over there?” Meredith wanted this outing to go as smoothly as possible, partly for reasons she understood and partly for some odd reasons which she couldn’t quite figure out completely; but, in any case, deep down, Meredith really wanted to make a good, favorable impression on her cute Hispanic girlfriend.

Meredith was keenly aware that this was the first time that she and Monica had willingly agreed to spend time with each other...well, other than the last night at the library. But that was kind of “business”, with studying together as their stipulated purpose. Their time today, in contrast, was a purely social occasion. Sure, there was the running of errands they were doing, and that was kind of a matter of business...but they could have done that separately...and they didn’t. They were spending the minutes and hours of this day together, not simply tolerating each other, but quite eagerly and with unmitigated enjoyment, both having a premonition, without quite seeing it yet as such, that their time together today was but the beginning of countless exhilarating, affectionate hours and days and years laying ahead of them as a couple.

Oh...I just used the word “girlfriend” when I thought about Monica. No, Meredith mentally corrected herself. Not girlfriend… I mean, not like that. Just my friend, who is also a girl... and who is very attractive...someone I want to get to know better...much better... As it had with Monica, it dawned on Meredith that they had agreed to this outing as a date with allusions that they were each other’s romantic girlfriends. Yes, there was definitely something like in the air between them, but it had been mostly unspoken, and neither of them really wanted to be so specific about it, Meredith told herself. Maybe calling themselves girlfriends was a spur of the moment thing, a result of the excitement that she and Monica were finally making some headway in their friendship, she justified. However, no matter how much Meredith kept mentally telling herself that she didn’t want to get to know Monica in a romantic kind of way, she couldn’t truly convince herself with her mental arguments. Deep down, just like Monica, she wanted to be girlfriends with her roommate, dating girlfriends, with everything that meant. As the day wore on, Meredith would feel decreasing inhibition to calling themselves “girlfriends” and what they were doing to be “dating”, as would Monica, as well.

“N-No… I’m fine just …”

“Trying to get comfortable?” Meredith asked in a jovial tone. “I understand the seating in this car isn’t the best. You should have seen Jessica trying to get comfortable when I gave her a ride a while back,” Meredith joked, trying to ease her Hispanic companion’s moody fidgetiness with a bit of humor.

A soft “mmm hmm” was Monica’s distracted response as she stared out the passenger’s side window. While her subconscious feelings about being with Meredith were exciting, the discomfort of her seat had reminded her of the painful, rattling nightmare she had had during the night. She was starting to mull over the feelings of despair the dream, which haunted her then and now, had conjured within her.

The dream had reminded her of the awful power her mother exerted over her destiny. If Monica failed any of her classes, her mother would pull her college funding away from her and then she would be forced to enter an arranged marriage, of which she wanted no part. But then there was an alternative outcome that was bothering her, too, as she considered it. She never did discuss with her mother what would happen if she did succeed academically. What if she got decent grades and graduated--what then? Monica had contemplated this before, but the answer started to crystalize now. She guessed that she would still be forced into marriage with Harold Salazar, just a little later than otherwise, for a college-graduate daughter would be even more marketable to potential in-laws like the Salazar family, for whom credentials, power, money, prestige, and the business side of life was everything. If anything, all passing her classes was doing was just delaying the inevitable. Isabella would not be denied, not even by the tears, pleadings, and misery of her own daughter. If the woman wanted something to happen, it happened, regardless of injury to the well-being of those involved.

Suddenly the Latina’s train of thought was interrupted as she felt a gentle hand grasp hers and lace its fingers with hers. Monica’s heartbeat quickened as she felt that hand guide hers on top of a soft lap and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Monica looked down to Meredith’s lap. The sight of her own fingers tipped with ruby-painted nails mingling with Meredith’s equally beautiful dark-maroon painted-nailed fingers, a pretty and uniquely girl-girl union, and resting so close to the junction of the redhead’s slim legs, sent a thrill through her. Monica had held hands with many guys, but this was a totally different experience--so thoroughly feminine, so soft, so sweet, so much nicer by any measurement. She felt like she wanted it to never end.

“Monica …” Meredith said with a soft, assuring tone.

In response, Monica turned her head to face her adorably cute red-haired friend and in a squeaky, excited tone replied, “Y-yes, M-Meredith.”

“Monica, I know that our friendship is relatively new and I’m very glad that I have a girlfriend, I mean friend, like you in my life, and I don’t want to pry into your affairs, but I just want to let you know that if something is bothering you, just like Claire with her scholarship fiasco, you don’t have to face this alone. You have friends willing to support you...like me,” Meredith said with concern as she again gently squeezed Monica’s hand, reassuring the young Latina vixen that she was not as alone as she believed herself to be.

Meredith’s sincere, caring act caught Monica off guard, causing her to think about the times in her life contrasting to this one. A torrent of unpleasant memories flooded her mind--the callousness toward her by and the betrayals inflicted on her by various members of her family and some of her so-called friends; the times she had been overlooked, put down, and seemingly abandoned by her parents, at least by her mother; the string of sickening dates with disgusting boys she had endured; and the fickle, demanding, exploitive manner in which she herself had come to behave towards the people she associated with. Those memories made her ponder what she really wanted out of life. More of the same? Did she want to go on keeping company with the kinds of people who were indifferent to her true well-being and stabbed her in the back? Did she want to date boys still? Did she really care what they thought about her? And did she want to continue being the snooty, judgmental, prima donna of her past?

Seeming enlightenment dawned upon Monica as she realized that a majority of her bad memories stemmed from her mother, Isabella. Monica had modeled herself after her mother, because that’s the way she thought adult women should behave. To the degree that Monica had seen Isabella being temperamental, haughty, devious, and manipulative, so she had been, too. A majority of her school friends before college, many of whom had proven to be no true friends at all, had been handpicked by her manipulative mother. Any attempts to steer away from Isabella’s plans for her and to try and go off on her own path had been met with cruel passive-aggressive comments and implied threats that had quashed them. Even the way Monica had sought to draw the attention of men had been modeled after her mother’s example, and her own prolific heterosexual social life, it now struck her, was solely because her mother was of that sexual orientation and maybe Monica thought she could impress her if she was popular with men, too. Now, as she thought about it, she regretted having put herself through the torture of trying to appeal to boys and men, and, yuk, dating them. What wasted, painful time and effort.

Monica choked back a sob, as she contrasted the unpleasantness of those memories to her current circumstances. She saw how lucky she was to have true friends like Claire, Jessica, and, especially, the beautiful Meredith. She was surrounded by friendly, caring, cute, sexy young women...and one of them was her bedmate. How great was that. But Meredith was the girl she had treated horribly ever since she arrived at Preston University. The petite girl had never deserved that, and Monica now was appalled at herself for having afflicted one so sweet, beautiful, innocent, and undeserving of abuse. Her regret brought forth another choked whimper and more tears.

“H-h-hey, what’s wrong, Monica?” There was no mistaking the concern in Meredith’s voice. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It was at this point that the emotional wall that Monica kept up broke down. Gone was the self-assured and self-confident young woman and in her place was a sobbing, confused little girl who protested her place in the world and the way her life had been going, and who wanted protection, guidance, help, and a new direction.

Seeing her friend in distress, Meredith pulled her car over as soon as she could. Feeling that she was somehow at fault for her friend’s current mood, Meredith reached over and embraced Monica in a warm, comforting hug, her hand gently patting the perfect, bare skin of her friend’s back.

“I’m sorry, Monica. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please forgive me,” Meredith said, trying to soothe her crying friend. She couldn’t help but notice the luxurious feeling of the Latina’s satiny skin under her hands, exposed as it was by the semi-backless cut of the silky blue blouse she wore.

“I-I-It's-n-nothing you d-did …” Monica managed between sobs. But then Monica broke down completely, clinging to Meredith while bawling like a child. When she could reign in her emotions, she backed off a little and explained to Meredith who the primary source of her melancholy outburst was--her mother. She revealed how if she failed any of her classes that her mother would cut her college funding and force her to marry a man she hardly knew, and relayed her realization that the future which Isabella had set for her was likely going to happen even if she did well in school and managed to graduate, as Isabella seemed determined to marry Monica off to the Salazar family and a college degree would be a nice credential to add to her pre-marital pedigree.

Meredith just sat there paying attention and understanding the perilous situation that Monica was in. She was sympathetic, knowing that she would want no part in an arranged marriage, particularly to some creepy, scumball man, if she could help it.

Not really sure what to make of Monica’s emotion-fueled confession and what she might say or do to help, Meredith decided to try to reassure Monica that not everything was as bleak as she made it out to be.

“Come on, it can’t be all bad. There must be a fond memory or two that you have of your mother. I really can't believe anyone could be that cold and uncaring, especially to her own child.”

Monica just gave a cold glare in response, which caused Meredith to sheepishly grin with nervousness.

“O-okay, maybe it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but surely there must have been someone who cared for you. Just think back for a moment.”

Relaxing a bit, Monica did as she was told and searched her memory for anything she could describe as a happy moment with Isabella or anyone else in her younger life. There was her father, Roman, who did genuinely care for his daughter, she was fairly certain; however Monica felt disappointment in that Roman was “pussy whipped” by her mother, as Monica saw it, so that he dared not do anything to defy her, such as by defending Monica from Isabella’s harsh treatment, and there was also the fact that he had also been aware of Isabella’s marital plans for their daughter and had done nothing to warn her or to help her escape such a nightmarish arrangement. So, as far as she could see, Roman was, in the end, a dud--a worthless dud, kind of like all men, per her recently-formed impression--and turning to him or to any other man had been and figured to continue to be futile, at best.

Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Monica reached out more deeply into her memories, trolling for anyone--except this time eliminating men as possibilities--whom she could associate with being motherly to her or genuinely caring for her. As Monica combed through the mental haze, she found someone on whom she began to focus, a person who did seem to sincerely care for her, or who at least showed some concern for her well being. It took a bit, but Monica was able to navigate through the foggy past, dig up the long-forgotten memory, and focus on it.

The image she conjured was of a tall and slender blonde woman. She had on a gray pullover sweater and a khaki-colored pencil skirt that covered her stunning legs and exquisite-looking hips. As Monica continued to focus, the details of the woman’s appearance took on a more vibrant form. Her blonde hair was long, full of voluminous waves with appealing curls at the end. Her lips were painted in the brightest shade of red, like the sweetest piece of candy, with her elegantly manicured nails matching the color of her lips.

Monica remembered herself as a four-year-old girl, happily running towards the statuesque blonde, with something in her hand--a piece of paper.

“Look, look, Nana Mo, look at what I drew!” little Monica exclaimed with eager excitement, as she jumped up and down, trying to catch the attention of the woman, while holding forth the piece of paper in her hand for the woman to look at.

The tall, elegant woman who was the center of the young Monica’s attention was Morrigan Durand, the nanny whom her parents had hired to help raise the young girl, or, more specifically, to keep Monica out of Isabella’s way as she went about her affairs in assuming control of the Morales’s family business. Isabella, in her own mind, had more important things to do than to tend to the needs of her own child.

Morrigan easily scooped up young Monica into her arms as the young girl giggled and stuck the drawing in her face. On the paper was a crudely drawn image of two females portrayed in rudimentary stick figures, which Morrigan interpreted to be herself and Monica. The taller figure had her hair colored yellow and done in simplistic, long spirals going past her shoulders, the shorter figure was drawn with black hair, they were holding each other’s hands, and they both bore smiles on their faces.

“Well, well, well, who’s the pretty girl in this nice picture?” Morrigan asked playfully.

“That’s meeee!” young Monica beamed with pride.

“And what about the beautiful lady that’s with her?” Morrigan inquired in a light-hearted tone, feigning ignorance.

Four-year-old Monica just giggled and squealed, “That’s you, silly!” and then reached over and hugged Morrigan.

The memory caused Monica to feel a sense of warmth and love she hadn’t felt in such a long time...at least until Meredith had become her close friend. She could almost still feel the affectionate hug from her nanny, including the luxurious feeling and perfumed scent of the tall blonde woman’s smooth skin and silky, pale hair against her face. A pleasant smile formed on the current Monica’s face as she continued to focus on the memory of the embrace between her and Morrigan. While she truly had felt endearing sensations of security, personal belonging, female-female love, and interpersonal sensual physical delight with the nanny during this recollected episode and many others in subsequent years, Monica’s subconscious lesbian mind exaggerated the feelings she experienced over this time period to make her think that what she felt for Morrigan had been more personal than it really had been and had had romantic and erotic tones which it did not have, at least not overtly.

The smile didn’t go unnoticed by Meredith, who was relieved to see signs that her beautiful friend was coming out of her dark mood. Given Monica’s confession of what her relationship with her mother was really like, Meredith was curious about what kind of person in Monica’s past could calm her friend that fast and what kind of impact she had had on the hottie’s life.

“So, if you don’t mind, who is it?” Meredith asked inquisitively.

Meredith’s inquiry caused Monica to snap back into reality. A bit embarrassed that

she had let her mind wonder, Monica turned to her cute girlfriend and flashed

her a warm smile.

“I-I just thought of someone...but it’s been a very long while since I’ve seen her.”

“Well? Spill, girlfriend. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“My nanny, Morrigan. She lived with our family from the time I was about four to around ten. I don’t know why it took me so long to remember her. Maybe just all the bad memories after she left clouded her out. But I remember how she and I would always play together and how she would comfort me when my mother wouldn’t.” Monica pronounced the last part of her statement with a tone of disappointment.

“Hey, it’s okay, Monica. This Morrigan person sounds pretty special. Why not tell me more about her?”

Taking another deep breath, Monica focused again on Morrigan. “Well...she was very beautiful...but not as beautiful as you...” No one is as beautiful as you.

Meredith giggled out an “aww, thank you” and smiled warmly at Monica in response. Since the previous night, Meredith had become increasingly aware that Monica was attracted to her, really, truly attracted, as experience was proving more every hour. She could even hear adoration in her roommate’s voice, if not lust, as well, she thought. Now Monica’s view of her as a beauty was too obvious to doubt. Claire, too, had seemed to be regarding her the same way over recent days, as demonstrated in the bathroom the previous afternoon and during breakfast this morning. Unlike in past years, Meredith was feeling beautiful, alluring, and even sexy now, like the ugly duckling who had fully transformed into an exquisite swan, and was pleased that other girls were finally seeing it, too, especially Monica. In any case, Meredith loved hearing Monica’s praise of her beauty and seeing how, more and more, Monica appeared to be smitten by her.

“She and I would always play games together and she would do her best to make time for me. Yeah...I know that she was paid to, but still, she didn’t make me feel like an inconvenience. She actually showed genuine concern for me and my wellbeing. She always tried to teach me things developing girls needed to know and take me places like art galleries and some theatre productions.” Monica’s subconscious lesbian persona continued to recolor her past experiences with her nanny. Their innocent excursions together now seemed a little bit like dates, dates between two females interested in each other in a romantic way. In short order, Meredith would be pouring more sapphic tint into her girlfriend’s memory.

“She sounds like a very nice person.”

“She was.”

“What did she look like?”

“Oh...well...she was tall and slim...statuesque, you would say...very pretty...probably in her early twenties when she started...with the most beautiful long, blonde hair…”

“Do you like blondes, Monica?”

“Yes...very much...well, I mean...uh...I like redheads, too...”

“It’s okay to be attracted to blondes, Monica. What would you think if I dyed my hair blonde?” Meredith inquired as she playfully twirled a lock of her long red hair around her right index finger while giving Monica a coy look.

The image of Meredith as a lush blonde Venus--whom she, as Helen of Troy, was dating--from her dream the night before flashed through her head, quickening her pulse and making her nipples tingle. Wow… She’d be...awesome… Would she really do that? Go blonde? “You’d be a great blonde!... She’d be like...like a goddess!... Although she’s already a goddess...a beautiful red-haired goddess... “If you wanted to, that is…”

“So would you.”

“Really? Do you think so?”

“Definitely. Monica, you are such a babe, you could get away with any hair color. Have you thought of experimenting?”

“No...well...actually, yes… Once in high school I thought about coloring my hair red. But my mother vetoed that real fast. She wouldn’t let me try even a little change, like to black cherry red, or a temporary reddish rinse.”

“So you like red hair? Like mine?”

“I don’t just like red hair… I love it. Yes, exactly like yours. Your red hair. It’s so beautiful. And I love those pretty blonde streaks. You’re so...so pretty!” What Monica did not understand was that, thanks to Hecate tampering with her mind and her preferences, a large part of the reason Monica liked red hair so much right now, even though she had already been drawn to it before she met Meredith, was that it was Meredith’s hair color, and any way Meredith looked like at the moment, whether it had to do with hair color or breast size or whatever, would be her favorite type of look. If Meredith changed, the altered look would automatically become her new favorite variation. “Meredith, you are just so...so perfect…”

“That is so sweet of you to say, Monica. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Thank you…”

“But you like blonde girls and women, too, right?”

“Oh, yeah…” Monica, not seeing herself as the lesbian girl she was rapidly becoming, did not analyze the “like” that they were talking about as romantic and sexual sapphic attraction and desire, although that was exactly the meaning of their words, without Monica saying or thinking of it explicitly and consciously in those terms. Meredith was closer to understanding the true nature of their conversation and, now seeing an opportunity to inch her roommate toward a more homosexual outlook, was steering it.

”Women like Morrigan seem to appeal to you… Do you think you had a crush on her?”

“A crush? I don’t think…” Monica had never thought of her relationship with Morrigan like that before, but now that Meredith suggested it, maybe she did. More sapphic tint poured over her memories of Morrigan and of their time together. “Well, I don’t know...I guess...yeah...I think I might have…”

“I don’t think that would be unusual… So what happened to her, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The question seemed to instantly assault Monica’s emotions. “When I was almost eleven, my mom decided that we were getting too close, and that Morrigan was teaching me to be too much of an honest and upright person, someone who wouldn’t be enough like her and wouldn’t fit in with her plans, and she fired her. I didn't understand any of that until later. I missed her sooo much!” Monica became weepy again.

At the time, Monica had precociously just crossed the threshold into adolescence. She had just had her first period, and her chest was also sprouting the first signs of development--darkening, puffy, sensitive nipples and subtle little mounds underneath them. It was Morrigan who had taken her to buy her first training bra, who had explained the changes in her body to her and helped her see the beauties of her body developing womanly traits, and who had eased her concerns. Morrigan had also shown Monica some of the basics of makeup, giving Monica mesmerizing demonstrations on her own face, had given her a few items to start her off when Monica got a little older--which Monica kept hidden from Isabella--and had introduced Monica to some of the “private” things adult women could wear, such as feminine napkins, nylons held up with garter belts, high heels, bras, jewelry, and perfume, showing the girl by personal demonstration how to wear them and what they were like, and letting Monica try out a few of those things a little, too. All of those times, and especially when they were alone together in Morrigan’s bedroom and when Morrigan’s lessons required various states of undress and touching, were extraordinarily fond memories, which Monica’s mind was embellishing now to make them seem romantic, erotic, sensual, titillating, and sexual, without them having actually been so, and part of an imaginary, subtly developing sapphic relationship..

“My mom is so mean…” Monica, a little bit whiny, almost sounded like the little girl she had just been revisiting, one whose self confidence had been eroded with self doubt and emotional insecurity, instead of like the relatively emotionally mature young woman she had been up to a few days ago. “She’s capable of anything, Meredith.” She felt very much like leaning her head on Meredith’s shoulder and just letting it all out again, wishing Meredith would hold her once more, not realizing that Meredith was gradually becoming the support she needed, if not the potential lover figure in whom she could center her romantic affections, becoming the new Morrigan in her affections.

Monica recalled the painful memory of Morrigan’s last day, watching the tall blonde packing up her belongings and loading them into her car. Tearfully, Monica had pleaded with Morrigan not to leave her. She had been able to see that Morrigan was also visibly upset by the situation, but at the time, Monica had been too young to understand that all this was her mother’s doing. Isabella had felt that Morrigan’s attempts to instill some values of compassion, tolerance, and honor were things Monica did not need in her life, as far as she was concerned. Unknown to Monica or to Isabella, her father, aware of his wife’s unjust termination of Monica’s nanny, had used some connections to help Morrigan land back on her feet.

Monica’s final memory of Morrigan was a tearful, heartfelt hug shared between the older woman and the younger Monica.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that… Do you know what happened to Morrigan after that?”

“Last I heard, she found another nanny job with another family with two daughters,” Monica replied in a defeated tone, obviously wishing that Morrigan had continued as her nanny.

Maybe Meredith is right. She would know more than me, after all. She’s so smart, and I trust her opinions. Maybe I did have something of a crush on Morrigan… I wonder...was it kind of a...a lesbian crush?......... Nah, that’s just… silly… I’m not a lesbian now or ever have been… At best I think it was just a silly platonic crush. Maybe it was just from the respect I had for Morrigan. After all, Morrigan spent a good deal of time with me and it would be natural that I would look up to her… but...maybe I guess some people could kind of, sort of see it that way... I was so little and didn’t know what I felt...but...looking back...I...I was kind of...attracted...to her...physically… I loved being close and cuddy with her...and...and feeling her hands on my body...and her body next to mine…

Monica reflected again back to her parting scene with Morrigan, her buried lesbian desires changing what had happened between them in Monica’s mind. They had not kissed in the real-life version, but now Monica’s wishful thinking added a mouth-to-mouth kiss into their parting scene. In Monica’s imagination, she pictured that during their passionate parting embrace, their mouths very naturally and irresistibly drifted closer together, until they met, ten-year-old girl with twenty-something woman. It had become a very long kiss, one full of romantic longing, one of desire for future, deeper mutual fulfillment, and one which progressed, as if inevitably and by mutual desire, to ardent, open-mouthed French kissing. The reimagining of her final, sweet moments with her beloved nanny sent Monica into a momentary dreamy state until Meredith spoke again.

As Monica returned to a more alert state from her brief daydream, she became aware that she wasn’t quite certain that her parting from Morrigan had happened quite like her romantic re-creation of it. Did I really kiss her? I...I think I did… I don’t know for sure...but...I loved her so much… Monica sank back rapidly into her dreamy, contemplative state.

I’m so confused. Why am I feeling this way about Morrigan? I don’t know if what I felt for Morrigan could have been a lesbian thing...at such a young age... Maybe a girl can be like that sometimes...without being like that all the time…or forever...although...to be honest...I feel like that with Meredith sometimes, too…

Morrigan was soooo beautiful… I wish I knew for sure how she really felt about me… I think she loved me, too… She did kiss me, after all...I think… And...yeah...it would have been cool to see if there was something there...between us...

As Monica recalled Morrigan’s fate, she felt a bit of jealousy that another family had gotten to have the beautiful Morrigan’s company after being with her. Has Morrigan forgotten me? Does Morrigan think of me sometimes. Does Morrigan want to find me? Do I want to find Morrigan? Is that possible? How would I go about it? What if we met now? What would she look like? Morrigan would be in her thirties...still young...still beautiful… Would she still have that gorgeous long, blonde hair? What would I wear to meet her? What would we say? What would we do?

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least you know she was doing okay,” Meredith said, trying to comfort her friend.

“I guess so,” Monica said softly as she began to ponder more what if’s. What if Morrigan had stayed on until Monica was older? What if Monica had then confessed her feelings for the older blonde woman to her? Would Morrigan have been receptive to such an attempt? If yes, what would have happened next? Did the beauty even swing that way? Did she like girls? It was clear that she liked Monica, but were her feelings strictly professional, or was there more? As far as Monica could remember, despite the closeness of their relationship, Morrigan kept her personal life to herself and never did give any clear indication, or least none that Monica could recall, that she was gay or had those kinds of leanings.

Monica caught herself, wondering why she was speculating about the sexuality of her dear nanny from her childhood and why she was pondering some kind of lesbian relationship with her. No... I liked her...maybe I even loved her… Yes, I know I did… But I’m not a lesbian...and neither was she...probably… If we did have some kind of...of...relationship...what would we have done together? What would it have been like? What would have come of it?

Noting Monica’s far-away look, Meredith decided to venture a little further. “You were in love with her...weren’t you?” Meredith suggesting it made it seem to Monica to be truer than it already was seeming. Even though the question and the whole course of this conversation were laden with lesbian ramifications, there was something so natural about it to Monica, and reminiscing about Morrigan with these new undercurrents in her recollections was proving to be exciting. This tenor was inducing Monica to now admit that she might have had a bit of lesbian inside her as a younger girl--a first major crack in her life-long hetero self image--while she persisted in denying that she had developed that way as an adult.

“Me? Well...uh…”

“Do you think she felt the same about you?”

“I...I don’t know… Maybe...”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to find out...and to pick up where you left off…”

“...yeah…”

“Or...if you can’t find her...maybe there is some other woman out there...someone kind and beautiful...who will touch your heart...in the same way…” Someone exactly like me…

Monica, dreamily failing to see the lesbian ramifications of their conversation, simply responded, “Yeah...maybe you’re right…”

“Have you tried reaching out to Morrigan? You know, check to see how she’s doing...if she’s seeing anyone...or if she’s married...to some lucky man...or woman...or, hopefully, to find out that she’s free...to date...that kind of stuff.” The new ideas that Morrigan could marry a woman, and that, if they somehow found each other, Monica could date her, and take their relationship to the romantic adult level it now seemed it had been destined to become before Isabella wrecked everything, sent an unexpected thrill through Monica. Wow...imagine...to date her...or...to...to even...marry her...

“N-no… Well...I mean, yes...I..I’d like to…I’d really like that...but...I wouldn’t know how to get a hold of her… Maybe my mother or father would still have her contact info...but I definitely don’t want to get my mother involved… Besides, I don’t think she would like the kind of girl that I’ve become.”

“What?! You think she would be ashamed of you becoming a self-confident, beautiful woman looking to earn her college degree? I know that I wouldn’t be, and, if she is, then maybe she isn’t worthy of the admiration you have for her. But I bet you’re wrong. She would feel about you just like I do. She would be proud of you. And she would love you...”

That last bit was enough of a confidence booster for Monica to reign in her emotions and cut through the confusion and self-doubt implanted in her mind. Yes, she definitely wanted to see Morrigan again, now as two adult women. She was dying to see what it would be like, being together again and seeing what might develop. But even more important to her, she keenly felt Meredith’s love and support. It was as if Morrigan was with her again, in the form of a petite redheaded fox. Monica wanted so much to reach over and give Meredith an endearing hug, like the kind Morrigan had given her, which in Monica’s memory now had assumed erotic tones. She would love to bask in the physical contact of her body against her girlfriend’s.

“Mmmm…. “ was the warm purr that Monica gave as she fantasized about the action of her squeezing Meredith against her body. I wonder if Meredith would be okay with me hugging her? Monica thought to herself, wondering if such an action would be wanted and even appreciated by her sexy auburn-haired friend. She’s soooo cute… Nonetheless, Monica managed to control herself and hold off on the action, as she didn’t want to make things awkward between her and Meredith and she didn’t want her cute red-haired friend to think of her as some kind of weirdo or deviant.

Waiting until her friend managed to collect herself, Meredith gave her girlfriend an assuring look and said, “I’d like to talk to you more about Morrigan later, okay? But, about the trouble your mom could cause you...there’s only one course of action that I can see to take in a situation like this.”

Monica just responded in a glum and dour tone, “What would that be?”

“Monica, I’ll help you pass and graduate,” Meredith promised, displaying her confidence and loyalty to her beautiful friend.

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yes...and much more…”

Monica thought the offer over for a few seconds, trying to predict what would happen if she did ever graduate, when a painful likelihood struck her, and her voice and facial expression assumed a tone of defeat. “That is so nice of you to offer that...but...you know...even if I do well in my classes and graduate, my mother would only use that to palm me off all the faster to the Salazar family as someone with better breeding and credentials than I’d otherwise appear to have. It’s almost certain that my mom is still going to try to force me to marry Harold Salazar. She’s not a person that takes ‘no’ for an answer.” Monica’s tears turned on again, accompanied by more sniffles. “It’s like...like I can’t win…I don’t know who to turn to...”

What Meredith said next would forever be etched into Monica’s heart and would forever endear Meredith to her. “I’ll fight for you.”

Those four magical words would eventually become a key part of the bedrock on which Monica’s love for Meredith would rest, joining in that foundation with Monica’s powerful, enduring lust for her petite soulmate. From their courtship, which was just now commencing--little to the knowledge of either--to the moment when Monica, as a blushing, ecstatic, beautiful bride, would walk down the aisle to wed her beloved Meredith, to the celebration of their fiftieth wedding anniversary, and beyond, Monica would know deep down in the pit of her soul that Meredith would watch over her, would protect her, would guide her, and would mother her unlike anyone in her life since her cherished nanny, Morrigan, that she would love Monica steadfastly, that she was the one for her, her true soulmate, and that their fates were intertwined.

Feeling her spirits rise, and unable to restrain herself any longer from the hug she so desperately craved from Meredith, Monica reached over and embraced Meredith in a warm hug. “Oh, Meredith…” A soft purr came from both sets of their lipsticked lips, as each girl felt the other’s breasts push up against her own. The physical contact sent small jolts of warm pleasure up both their spines.

Eventually the two broke up the embrace when Meredith coughed to gesture that it was starting to get a little awkward. While both Monica and Meredith were relishing the physical contact with one another, neither girl was ready to openly admit that they were beginning to become sexually attracted to one another. It would take a few more brainwashing sessions and more time together for that to become reality.

Both young women reluctantly pulled away from each other, shyly looking at each other, and letting out soft giggles as they amused themselves on thoughts of the silly awkwardness of the situation.

“Feel better?” asked Meredith.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I-I really appreciate it. Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you much and be an inconvenience,” Monica apologized with a meek tone in her voice. “But..thanks...Meredith. Thank you so much. I...I never thought,” she giggled and sniffed a little through the tears, which were now tears of gratitude and love, “I never thought it would be my ‘nerd-girl’ who would come to my rescue. My pretty, beautiful, sweet nerd girl…” Both girls giggled together.

“No problem. It’s what friends are for. Close friends. ” Meredith stroked Monica’s check affectionately, wiping away a few tears, before pulling out a facial tissue for her and changing the tenor of their discussion. “Well, with that out of the way, I think we better get going. I think we’ve delayed long enough,” Meredith said, as she reached over and gently took hold of Monica’s hand, caressing it and soothing the worries away from her cute girlfriend.

Monica only nodded in agreement in response, enjoying the caress from the red-haired cutie she was slowly being mentally manipulated into seeing as a lover and the love of her life, and unable to formulate any mental objections as to why the touch should not be allowed.

Checking to see if it was safe, Meredith gently merged back into oncoming traffic and then drove off towards her destination with her beautiful date for the day.

Monica had one more thing to say before they lapsed into reflective silence for the rest of their drive. “Meredith?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for calling you ‘nerd girl’ and other names. I’m really sorry...although I kind of like calling you ‘nerd girl’...not in a nasty way now...but as kind of a...um...a term of endearment...you know? But I won’t use it anymore if you don’t like it. Okay?”

“Okay. Let me think about it. But thanks.”

********************

Meredith and Monica pulled up to their destination, Long Box Comics. However, before they got out, Meredith had to give Monica a few minutes to finish touching up her makeup. Unfortunately, it had become a complete mess when she had that emotional breakdown just a few minutes before.

As Meredith observed the alluring vixen clean the tear-stained cosmetics off her face with a clean wipe which she kept in her bag, and then went about reapplying a fresh application of makeup from the small cosmetic kit she kept on hand for emergencies like this, Meredith’s eyes drank in the sexiness that her partner was giving off.

“ ‘Always be prepared.’ Just about the only good thing my mother ever taught me,” Monica quipped in a sardonic tone as she stared into the mirror of her compact, putting on the finishing touches of mascara, oblivious to the wanting stare from her red-haired friend.

“So how do I look?” Monica cheerfully asked as she turned to present herself to Meredith.

Monica caught Meredith off guard, as she was briefly stunned by the sexy Latina kitten sitting across from her. Meredith let out a short breath, dazzled by Monica’s alluring appearance.

While the color of Monica’s lips and nails was restored to the same bright glossy ruby red that gave off a vibrant sense of life, she changed the color of the blush on her cheeks, this time going with a subdued pink on her smooth cheeks, gone were the mascara-colored tear streaks from her eyes and down her cheeks. Monica’s eyelashes looked sensual, curled and thick with mascara, eyelids touched up with purple eyeshadow and highlighted by the blackest eyeliner.

“U-uh uh uh uh… great! You look great!” Meredith was able to stammer out and quickly gave Monica a thumbs-up gesture. Otherwise, Meredith was at a loss for words, stunned and captivated as she was by her friend’s beauty.

Monica playfully giggled in response and said with a slight blush. “Well, it’s nice to know that I have your seal of approval.”

Both young women made their way out of the compact vehicle and strolled towards the entrance of the store. As they approached the doors, Meredith and Monica found themselves unknowingly drawing closer to each other and by the time they actually got to the door each woman realized that she was holding her partner’s hand. Becoming aware of this, both young women stared at each other, blushed, smiled, and giggled lightly.

“You know,” offered Meredith, “in some cultures, holding hands does not necessarily imply that the people holding hands are in an involved relationship, but it can be seen simply as a sign of respect and friendship.”

“Yeah… You know, in one of my classes in high school, we saw a film about Scotland. They showed scenes from the streets of their cities. Several times you saw mothers and daughters walking along holding hands or with their arms linked. Same with teen friends walking along...girls with girls, I mean...not boys. Some in the class made fun, but I thought it was cute. So, yeah, it could mean some kind of relationship special to the two or it could be a sign that two people just really like each other, and like being with each other...or it could mean both. I think both of those apply to us, don’t you think?” Meredith smiled warmly, nodded her red-haired head, and squeezed the Latina’s soft hand. “Well then, at the least I guess this makes us best friends,” Monica said as she raised her hand clasped with Meredith’s for both of them to see.

“I guess it does,” Meredith happily agreed. “I like holding your hand.”

“Me, too.” If this were a scene from one of Meredith’s manga comics, the illustrator would have drawn in numerous little hearts floating in the air between the two roommates.

Opening the door to the shop with her free hand, Meredith led Monica inside, who--having never been to a comic book store before, and whose prior concept of what comic book shops would look like made her think that the one to which Meredith was taking her would be a grimy place full of unclean slobs and unkempt nerds and geeks that were beneath her--was surprised by how clean and organized the shop looked, even to the point of earning her admiration, which she knew was noteworthy for a picky girl like her.

“Monica, just wait here a minute. I want to check the bulletin board out.” Meredith took a few steps to her left and scanned over the ad cards posted by customers. Meredith had a list of old, hard-to-find comic-book issues she wanted, and sometimes such items were posted for sale on this board.

In the meantime, Monica looked out over the shop. She saw various customers looking around the shop. The males she just glanced over without much of a thought, but she paid rather avid attention to the female customers, admiring the beauty and feminine charms unique to each one. Monica didn’t know why, but she found almost all of them to be alluring women and girls, she admitted to herself, captivating even, females whom she liked at first glance and probably would want to get to know. Monica wondered whether Meredith knew any of them, which would give her an avenue of meeting them.

A few stood out particularly, such as a couple that caught Monica’s notice. One of the duo was charmingly ultra thin and had her hair dyed a very bright pink, long and very curly, flowing down her head in a teasing fashion a little past her shoulders, maybe by an inch or two. She had on a black tee that had one of the characters from those Japanese cartoons that Meredith liked to watch. Her hips and legs were encased in ripped denim. She sported numerous small silver rings pierced through the peripheral edges of her two ears, a tattoo of three thorny roses, two black and one red, on the side of her neck, and a sleeve of tattoos on one arm, consisting of an image of a dark, seductive Snow White, a dagger, some dangerous-looking birds, and other images. Monica suspected there were more tattoos on the young woman’s body which she could not see...but would like to see...

Monica’s eyes roamed over the pink-haired lass’s chest and gazed at her cute, perky breasts tenting the hottie’s t-shirt. Meredith’s were bigger in comparison, Monica noted to herself--taking pride in the perfection of her girlfriend’s heavenly titties, and in having a girlfriend with such wondrous little knockers--but the alluring pink-haired woman still had a fetching pair of little breasts that Monica couldn’t ignore.

This observation caused Monica to look down at her own marvelous beauties, but her reaction to the sight--a response born of Hecate brainwashing--surprised her. In the past, her breasts had always given her a sense of superiority. This time, however, they did not. In fact, she felt they were inferior to the smaller ones of the pink-haired girl, and to Meredith’s. That realization put her in a bit of despair. Up to this day, she had loved lording her large breasts over girls like Meredith, but now Monica saw them differently. She now recognized, as she never had before, that their large size made them obtrusive and cumbersome, relative to smaller ones. They were almost too powerful and attention-getting for her now, as she was feeling more demure and fragile than before, possibly from starting to hang out with Meredith, she speculated, whose dainty prettiness and petite allure now seemed to be her new ideal, all of a sudden, as it struck her. She also had guilt now about having used her knockers to make lesser-endowed girls feel defective in the past, and she wanted to distance herself from that behavior...which she could do better if hers were smaller.

Little did Monica realize that her radical new perspective had been implanted into her via brainwashing. Nevertheless, Monica now wished that her breasts were the size of Meredith’s, which she felt were beyond perfection. The pink-haired girl’s little titties, at which she was now staring, came off to her as scrumptious, as well, and better than her own. Monica had always been supremely confident in the voluptuous superiority of her body, but she could feel that haughty confidence wane by the second.

Monica closed her eyes for a second and envisioned herself with B-cup beauties...Then she visualized A-cups on her chest. Oh, yeah! The images turned her on. In that moment, if she had had access to immediate breast-reduction surgery, or to some kind of magical minification device, she would have jumped at the opportunity to make her tits small. The smaller, the better. Young-teen small. Little-girl small.

Then Monica realized she was going too far. No...wait...that’s...that’s too small… I want real breasts...womanly breasts...but just like Meredith’s… Monica closed her eyes for a moment, recalling to her mind the sight of Meredith’s beautiful moonlit breasts the redhead had displayed to her in their common bed the night before. The image shot a bolt of arousal through her pussy. They’re perfect...

Whereas before, she had thought her dominant breasts were glorious and ideal, and she still knew that many would say they were a very generous asset to her young body, now she saw imperfection, particularly as she envisioned girls similar to Meredith’s body shape for a comparison. Such conflicted feelings about her body and its relative merits were tearing down her confidence and pushing her into a more submissive mindset.


Upon realizing that she was gawking intently at the sexy, willowy girl, and not wanting to be caught and seen as a pervert, Monica averted her gaze upwards to the girl’s head, upon which Monica noticed that her face was adorned with piercings in her ears, eyebrows, nose, and lips, along with applications of emerald green eyeshadow and black eyeliner. Her soft lips were painted a very dark plum purple.

The pink-haired girl’s companion had a more robust hourglass figure that was worthy of the attention it drew from some of the boys browsing near her. Monica felt that the boys, disgusting as they were, would probably describe her as having a thicc figure, and it was very worthy of that description. The curvacious woman had her hair colored a dark green and kept in a style similar to her petite friend, except with shaved sides. The young woman had on purple eyeshadow, the color being similar to Monica’s current eyeshadow, dark blue eyeliner, and thick black mascara on her eyelashes, as well as a matte black paint on her lips and her sharply-pointed long nails The thicc beauty wore black plugs in her ears, circular jewelry filling half-inch holes which had been stretched in her earlobes. She had on a dark blue tee depicting a spandex-clad heroine, and her desirable hips, butt, and curvy legs were clad in tight black jeans. She was also tattooed, but to a lesser degree, as far as Monica could see, than her pink-haired companion.

Initially, the Latina’s eyes were focused on the curvy dark-green-haired beauty’s delightful-looking posterior, taking in the sight of such a heavenly ass and wondering what it would feel like if she were to go over, seize it with her hand, and give the buxom beauty’s rear a good squeeze. Monica was oblivious to the homosexuality of the mindset she was taking on and how foreign it should be to a young woman like her, as she continued her gaze of the green-haired hottie’s ass.

Eventually Monica’s eyes were drawn to the curvaceous girl’s full, heavy breasts. The sight sent a jolt of excitement through Monica. Monica found that reaction curious, inasmuch as she had just concluded that she was particularly taken with small breasts, and those only, and on some mental level she had assumed that she was on the verge of launching into a full-blown small-breast fetish. However, staring at the green-haired girl’s big hooters made her realize that she didn’t like small breasts exclusively, and the advantages of large breasts thrust upon her mind, reeling her back to a more balanced outlook as fast as she had initially swung toward a narrow affection for small breasts. Most people liked big breasts, and were attracted to them and aroused by them, she reflected...herself not excluded. Even if she now had a thing for small breasts, as she just discovered, that new attraction wouldn’t stop her from going bonkers over large breasts, as well--such as those of Claire, and of the green-haired punk girl standing before her--nor would it prevent her from taking pride and gratification in the beauty and power of her own big breasts or from using her breasts to attract and arouse other girls and women (and to revel in doing so), as she was doing this very day wearing her revealing cobalt-blue top, although she would never return to the arrogant, superior, intimidating attitude of previous months and years.

Hecate had indeed implanted a breast fetish into Monica, as well as into Meredith, but it embraced breasts of all sizes. While the Latina from now on would often personally prefer smaller breasts on women she was scoping out and on the love interests in her life, and would envy small-breasted women--the result of Hecate tampering with her mind, with the primary purpose being to make her crazy about Meredith--at the same time she was quite capable of drooling over big breasts, ogling them with great lust, being highly drawn to women who had them, being filled with longing to play with them, loving them quite amorously, being quite glad she had them to tease other women, and skilled at and committed to displaying and otherwise using hers to provoke women and girls and to draw them into sex with her, and taking great enjoyment and gratification in so doing. She just would not lord them over small-breasted girls any more, other than to initiate and inflame their lust with them, nor would she claim a superior status over the less-endowed because of them. Small was now okay, too. More than okay.

Big breasts, small breasts, medium breasts, tiny breasts, gigantic breasts...she was fascinated by them all, loved them all, lusted for them all, as she never had before, and much more than she yet realized, but she would come to see this change within herself much more clearly within coming hours and days. Meredith shared the same fixation, although the bias implanted into her was a preference for large breasts, very large, such as Monica’s and Claire’s, and such as those she envisioned on herself in the future. Meredith would never want Monica to reduce the size of her breasts. If anything, larger would be better...much better...much larger...gigantic… But their current generous size was plenty good enough...for now...

The way the two young punk-styled women kept close to one another and interacted in a touchy-feely-flirty-giggly way with each other made Monica wonder whether they were a lesbian couple. She found herself hoping they were. Monica had seen lesbian girls and girls with this kind of style before, but she had never been this close to any. She found the brilliant, unnatural colors of their hair and the various other daring elements of their look, combined with their natural allure and, especially, with the seemingly sapphic flare to their behavior, to be fascinating.

Monica compared the two to each other, trying to decide which one she would prefer if she were to ask one of them out. She settled on the pink-haired girl, mainly for her smaller breasts, but also because she liked her beautiful pink hair and was intrigued by her tattoos, but it was close, as she also found the dark green hair and voluptuous body of the second girl most inviting, too. She wondered what the two did behind closed doors. Naughty fantasies of the two young women danced in her mind. The fact that Monica’s outlook was completely homosexual was quite lost on her.

Before she could give it further thought, a jolly voice bellowed, “Hey, Meredith, how’s it goin’?!”, which interrupted Monica’s secret admiration of the female customers in the store.

Snapping out of her little trance, Monica turned her head towards the source of the loud voice. It belonged to a large, burly man who looked to be in his 60s, dressed in a long-sleeved, red-and-white plaid, button-up flannel shirt and rainbow-colored suspenders sporting button pins featuring various comic book characters all over them, his thick white-and-grey hair combed and parted down the middle. His likewise thick, wiry, white-grey beard covered most of his face, and he wore a pair of black square-framed glasses from which his blue eyes peeked out. The man looked happy to see Meredith come into the store. Monica assumed that he might be the store’s proprietor. At first, Monica found herself disliking the man a little, just because he was a man, but she restrained that feeling, seeing that he and Meredith appeared to be on friendly terms, so that she came to simply feel neutral toward him.

Meredith rejoined Monica and they started walking closer to the counter behind which the man stood. As they approached, Monica saw, next to the man, a woman sitting on a stool who looked to be busy sketching on a large sketch pad. She looked younger than he did, quite possibly much younger. She wore faded blue jeans and a dark blue tee with Wonder Woman striking a heroic pose on it. Monica’s gaze lingered on her, discovering one feature after another that attracted her. The woman’s hair was an alluring mixture of pure white, deep black, and various shades of gray, with bold swaths of shiny silver laced throughout--and Monica wondered whether the woman dyed her hair to get that striking effect, which was an accurate suspicion--neatly combed back with the long end done in a ponytail braid that went past her shoulders. The woman also had a bit of plumpness to her, but it was all in the right places. Her breasts still had the fullness and firmness that drew lustful attention and her hips were pleasingly wide, curvaceous, and smooth, rendering her figure into an eye-catching hourglass. Monica could only imagine what her rear looked like.

The lady appeared to be one of those kinds of women who aged very gracefully and whose age was rather indeterminate. Monica’s first impression, as she scanned over the woman’s striking hair, lovely, unlined face, clear, smooth, unblemished complexion, tight body, and smooth, manicured hands was that she was as young as her early to mid thirties, but then, when she took into consideration that she could well be the wife of the older gentleman, she revised her conclusion to the woman more likely being in her forties. The truth was that the woman was fifty-three. Despite her mature age, Monica found that whatever signs of aging her body and features did display just made her more alluring to her, rather than diminishing her impulsive attraction to the woman.

It seemed that the woman was staring intently at Monica, then looking back down at her sketch pad to draw something, and then back up at Monica. Monica noticed that the woman picked up an eraser, used it on her sketchbook, then took her pencil and returned to feverishly drawing in the sketchbook, as if inspired, only pausing to observe Monica with those cool, grey-colored eyes of hers. Monica couldn’t help but blush a little at the attention she was receiving, but before she could inquire why the mature woman was looking at her and what she was up to, she was intercepted by Meredith’s response to the man, which had been delayed a few seconds as Meredith inspected some bric-a-brac which had distracted her in a display case .

“Hey, Carl! How’re things?”

“Fine, just fine. Give me a few and I’ll get your pull list ready for you,” the man said as he slowly got up from his seat, the stiffness of his sixty-six years visible, both young women hearing bones crack, snap, and pop as he ambled a few steps and bent down to a shelf under the far end of the counter. “Hey Edie, Meredith is here. Why don’t you get up and say hello.”

“Umm hmmm, that’s nice, dear,” the woman muttered without so much as looking away from her sketchbook, engrossed in working on her sketch.

“Heh, sorry, Meredith,” Carl apologized. “You know how Edie gets when she’s struck by inspiration.”

“That’s okay, Carl. I know Edie doesn’t mean it. Isn’t that right, Edie?”

“Um hmmm, that’s nice, dear,” Edie repeated, but this time with a touch of playfulness mixed into her otherwise absentminded reply.

“Hey, Monica, I’m going to chat for a bit with Carl and Edie...you know, talk shop, so to speak,” said Meredith. “Why not look around and see if anything catches your eye.”

“Uh… sure, I guess I can,” Monica said, a bit wounded that her girlfriend was shooing her away just because she didn’t have knowledge about the subjects to be discussed.

“Thanks, you’re the best.” Out of the blue, Meredith pulled her closer and planted a quick kiss on Monica’s right cheek, as if she knew what she said had hurt Monica a bit and wanted to help soothe the sting of rejection, and as if to solidify the fact that they belonged together and were there on a date. The small peck on the cheek caused the Latina to blush, as at first she felt a bit embarrassed. Monica definitely wasn’t expecting that from her cute red-haired girlfriend and wasn’t so sure she was ready to display that kind affection out in public. Inwardly, however, she could not resist feeling tickled pink by it and wondering, hopefully, whether there might be any more of those later in the day.

Fortunately for her, she thought, neither Carl nor Edie seemed to care much about their little affectionate gestures and most of the customers were too lost in their own little worlds to take much notice, either. Monica used this dearth of attention on her to back away and disappear, following Meredith’s advice to browse the store and take a look at its wares.

Monica noticed that the walls were lined with various posters of costumed men and women striking heroic poses, although she largely skipped over those of the males and focused almost exclusively on the female characters. Then she saw fixtures that showcased various comicbooks of titled costumed heroes. Monica found several of them quite interesting, as her eyes again lingered on the covers that artistically showed off the shapely curves of their female characters.

As Monica passed by a large glass display case, something caught her eye. In the glass case were various figurines and statuettes. Her eyes fell on and were captured by a particularly fetching statuette of a striking woman. Her skin was pale, smooth and flawless. The figure’s hips were encased in what looked to Monica to be glossy black leather thong panties that did a phenomenal job of showing off her smooth, naked legs and delicious, curvy hips, hugged her crotch and ass tightly, revealing the hints of the clefts there, and exposed essentially all of her generous, satiny ass. Tall, glossy, thigh-high stiletto-heeled leather boots enclosed her calves and lower thighs. The figure’s ample cleavage was prominently on display in a matching black leather bustier top that was laced tight up the front in the center, leaving a laced gap of two to three inches between the two front halves, to contain, barely, the bulging breasts of the statue, which appeared to be surging and spilling, almost, over the top edge of the sexy top, threatening to let her nipples, which made obvious imprints in the bustier, burst out into the open.

The facial features of the statue were alluring. Her lips, painted to match the brilliant red color of her attractive hair, albeit a few shades darker, were frozen in a wicked smile. An appealing beauty mark graced the upper left side of her delicious-looking mouth. Then there was the hair on the figure...her oh-so-beautiful hair, the most striking feature of the small statue. It was red--like Monica’s beloved Meredith’s--but different, too, a vibrant, vivid, bright, true red, a wholly unnaturally red red, like a glowing flame, in contrast to Meredith’s darker, natural auburn color. However, as much as she was smitten by the beauty of the figure’s hair, in Monica’s judgement Meredith’s was even more alluring--for, to Monica, everything about Meredith was perfect and ideal, and whatever hair color Meredith would happen to have at any given time, that would be Monica’s favorite. Also, the statuette’s hair was done in a pompadour bun hairstyle with a seductively teasing split curl resting on the figure’s forehead and other curled strands descending along the sides of her face.

Then there were the striking pose that the statue was holding--dominant, controlling, commanding--and the matching haughty, sensual, sultry expression on her face. One of her hands--both of which were covered in shiny black leather gloves which ran up to the middle of her upper arms--her right one, rested in a fist on her hip, while her left hand held a coiled bullwhip. The finishing touches were a black leather cape, lined with red satin, affixed at her throat with a red rose clasp and flowing backward to expose the statuette’s body in full, and a black leather choker necklace studded with silver spikes.

Monica wondered what it would be like if the statue were sitting on the case rather than in it...so that she could touch it… What would it be like to run her fingers along those smooth, creamy thighs...and over that nearly-naked, irresistible ass...and then...over that shiny, little thong...between her legs…?

Monica became enamored with the beguiling statue. Led by her brainwashing to see Meredith as a commanding, powerfully sexy figure similar to this one, Monica subconsciously imposed Meredith’s face on the statue. A blush of embarrassment appeared on her cheeks as she fantasized her red-haired friend wearing the same scandalous outfit and in a similarly dominant pose. Monica’s chagrin, however, was from her desire to see Meredith so immodestly attired, not due to any doubt that Meredith could pull off such an outfit. On the contrary, Monica truly believed that her sexy friend would look smashing in such an outfit, that she should try something similarly provocative and daring sometime--if not frequently--and that, if an opportunity presented itself, she would wholeheartedly encourage her dear friend to go for it.

For all the time Monica had known her cute red-haired friend, Meredith had never ventured out of her comfort zone of loose-fitting tees and relaxed-fit jeans that hid what Monica now saw as not only a sexy body, but an ultimately sexy, ideally feminine body. And only over the last week or two had Monica thought she might have observed Meredith wear some makeup, although, if she had, it had been just a little bit at first. Only starting with their first date at the library the previous night did Monica start seeing her petite girlfriend wearing tighter, more revealing clothes and heavier makeup that played up the sexiness of Meredith’s physical features...and Monica found it appealing...extremely appealing. She couldn’t help but think that possibly the cute redhead was doing it specifically for her, Monica, and now that they were dating, or whatever, and girlfriends, kind of, that she could expect more of the same in the future, and these suppositions sent a thrill up her back. Yes...Monica wanted to see more of Meredith like this...to see her venturing further...into attire that revealed more, much more, of that saucy, splendid little body...and into heavier, bolder cosmetics...and into other things…into everything…

The more Monica thought about it, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if Meredith adopted more extremely vivid coloring and revealing attire that was more assertive, even dominant-looking, like the statue she was idolizing. She felt familiar signs of arousal--a pleasurable tingle in her loins, stiffness of her nipples, and a rapid beat of her pulse--as her mind played a quick fantasy of Meredith and herself.

In her fantasy, a lifesize Meredith was dressed up just like the statue Monica was ogling, and the redhead, with hair the exact color and style of the woman depicted by the statue, as well as matching makeup and ornamentation, and with huge, powerful breasts--and even though Monica loved Meredith’s body with little tits as it was, the concept of an amazingly big-breasted Meredith almost bowled Monica over--was towering over her. Monica was nude like a newborn babe, her body covered in red welts from the whip in Meredith’s hand, and her rear bearing a bright crimson shade from the spanking she had just received. She didn’t know why, but Monica couldn’t help but feel that this was right, that her proper purpose was to be docile and subservient to someone like Meredith. Whispers coming from deep within her mind soothed the sharp stings covering her body, assuring her that it was her destiny to submit to women like Meredith, and that she should and would do so gladly.

Then all of a sudden her naughty fantasy broke when she heard a voice close by. “Something I can help you with?” a pleasant, young feminine voice asked, coming from her left, Interrupting her lewd fantasy about her best friend.

The friendly inquiring voice caused Monica to jump with startled panic, as if her decadent imaginings were plain for others to see and she had been caught. She bolted upright and turned to address the female. The person whom she saw floored her. It was the same beautiful blonde girl at whom she had been caught gawking in her business management class just the day before. At the time, they had made eye contact, but had said nothing. Then and now, Monica wondered why she had stared at the girl and what the girl had thought of her for doing that.

The young woman had on a pink tee with a silver Batman insignia on it. Instead of the more usual crew neck, the tee had a low-cut scoop neckline, and the blonde wore a push-up bra underneath, to show off her petite charms to best advantage. She also had on black jeans, and tied around her waist were the sleeves of a green and purple plaid button-up flannel shirt, which Monica found a bit frustrating, as it hid the view of the young woman’s hips from her gaze. But as far as she could tell, overall the girl’s body and shape was very similar to Meredith’s, which Monica was conditioned to find attractive. As her gaze went up and down, Monica noticed that the girl had on the same thick black square-framed glasses she had worn the previous day, her cute light-blue-colored eyes behind them seeming to peer into her soul. Her long, dirty-ash-blonde hair was brushed back and tied by a pink ribbon into a ponytail that flowed past her shoulders a few inches. Like before, the cute girl only had on a very minimal application of cosmetics--with the very prominent exception today of her lips. She had made the effort to cover her delicious-looking lips in a dark blue shade of lipstick. The sight, both of the girl’s dramatic prettiness--made all the more so by her beautiful, bold lipstick--and of her proximity, closer than ever before, and the fact that this was someone with whom she had embarrassed herself but a day before, because she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off her, nearly took her breath away. The sly, knowing look that the girl was giving Monica seemed to imply that the girl not only recognized her also but had not forgotten the circumstances of their semi-encounter.

“Well, well, well! I remember you! From class, right? The girl who was staring at me? I never expected to see a cutie like you in a place like this. What, did you follow me here? Hmmm… It seems I have a stalker,” the girl jokingly teased.

“Oh, uh, no, I didn’t, uh, I’m not...uh...I’m sorry about yesterday… I didn’t mean to...um…”

“You didn’t mean to ogle me? Like you didn’t mean to check out the other girls in class...like that girl with the beautiful brown hair in front of us…”

How does she know about that? Was I that obvious?

“By the way...I know her...in case you want to meet her…”

I think that was the girl Abby introduced us to on the tour...the one with the beautiful blonde roommate...or...girlfriend… “Oh...I...I think I might already know her…kind of… Doesn’t she have a cute blonde girlfriend?”

“Yes, she does. Very, very cute……. Oh, you like her, too, don’t you?..... Wait… I get it now. The blonde is the one you really want to get to know...isn’t she? Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” Monica wished she had not mentioned the girlfriend, and didn’t want to confess to anything, but she couldn’t deny how attracted to the blonde she had felt when she passed by her so briefly the previous day, so she simply gave this blonde nerd-girl a little, enigmatic smile. But now having a pathway to again see the brunette’s blonde girlfriend delighted her, as well as the prospect of getting to know the brunette, as well.

“And weren’t you checking out those pretty punk-looking girls over there, too? That cute gay couple?”

Oh...so they were gay after all… “No...I don’t… I’m not like that…”

Lydia had been noticing Monica’s eyes drifting again and again to her little breasts and cute ass, scanning over her pretty face, and lingering on her painted blue lips, as if kissing them was on her mind...which it was.

She either hasn’t come out yet...or she’s in denial. But this girl’s as queer as they come. Hmmmm… Maybe she just needs a little push to see who she really is...and I might be just the one to help her...

“So if you’re not stalking me...and you’re not here to check out the girls...then why are you here? You definitely don’t look like the comic book aficionado type.”

“Um… um… I’m here with my girlfriend… I mean my friend who’s also a girl… I mean … ” Monica stuttered out as she meekly gestured to Meredith talking with the store’s proprietors at the counter by the store’s entrance.

“Oh, you’re with Meredith. She never told me that she had such a hottie for a girlfriend. Oh, where are my manners? Name is Lydia. And you must be?”

“M-Monica… “ was all that Monica could manage to say.

“Monica,” Lydia repeated, the name playfully rolling off her tongue. “Hmmm, you know, that name does ring a bell. Meredith did mention a Monica to me once or twice in passing, but I doubt that you’re that Monica. After all, you don’t look like a cold-hearted salacious skank of a bitch that delights in tormenting other people.” Lydia, who liked to play with people and tease them if she could, said the last part of that statement with venomous candor meant to sting, to see if she could get some kind of confessional reaction of out this beautiful semi-stranger, as she had a feeling that the Monica who was in front of her was the same Monica about whom Meredith had frequently lamented to her. “She said this nasty girl was her roommate.” Monica’s noticeable emotional discomfort and accompanying blush affirmed to Lydia that she had guessed correctly on all counts and that her comments had cut the girl with her to the core.

Monica knew that her relationship with Meredith didn’t have the greatest of beginnings. Their spats had often ended with sharp jabs at each other and had typically involved Claire or Jessica stepping in to try to resolve whatever the controversy happened to be, or at least to get them to shut up. So it would make sense that, if Meredith had mentioned Monica to one of her friends, it wouldn’t have been in the most flattering of terms.

The word “skank” which Lydia had said Meredith had used to describe her echoed in the Latina’s head. Monica had been called other things before--”frat girl”, “ice queen”, “bitch”, “tease”--but never something equivalent to “whore”, like the word “skank”. Okay, maybe she was a little bit slutty sometimes, but that was more act than real. She had never thought of herself as a “skank”, or a real “slut”, or a “whore” . But as she searched her feelings about it, she discovered that there was part of her that wouldn’t mind if her auburn-haired friend had referred to her as a woman of loose morals, especially if she had meant loose morals involving her affection for other women, women like Meredith, as well as like the beautiful Lydia who was standing before her.

There was something about that word...whore… In the past, it had only been a negative, menacing word to Monica. Her mother, Isabella, had drilled into her that, no matter what else she was or did in this life, no daughter of hers would ever be or be known as a whore. The consequences of violating that precept would be most severe, Isabella had implied, although she had not stated what those consequences would be specifically. Monica had not wanted to find out, but she hadn’t needed that threat, either, as she, of herself, also valued her chastity, at least her technical, vaginal chastity, considered herself to be, despite some appearance to the contrary, a good girl, and wanted not ever, before marriage, to go so far sexually that she couldn’t think of herself as one. Despite her occasional moral laxity, a real whore was a type of woman she had, on her own, resolved to avoid being, at all costs. A flirt, maybe...a tease, okay...maybe a slut, a little...but not a whore. Definitely not someone like that, a woman who would spread her legs for any willing person, on a moment’s notice.

But now, for some reason....that word and that concept was so...so appealing, It struck her, out of nowhere, as it seemed, to be a simply beautiful word...a lovely way of life...for a special kind of woman…a specially hot woman...a completely loose, a totally, sexually available woman...an ideal woman...at least, an ideal for her...almost like it was her...her destiny……………... Was it the kind of woman she wanted to be?

Skank...slut...whore...hmmmm… There are worse things to call someone… If Meredith thinks of me like that...then...maybe...I can accept it… On the other hand...I guess I shouldn’t want her or anyone else to think of me as a...a whore……...probably……...and...now that we’re friends...I don’t think she would say that about me anymore………. Still……...that word……...whore……... There’s something about it…………...something…………....nice.................something very...very intriguing…………..something………….. Exciting……………

Monica found herself liking the blonde with her even a little more for having indirectly suggested that she was or could be a...a whore.

“That wouldn’t be you, would it?”

“Well I-I…” Monica tried to come up with something to distance herself from the former allegation that Meredith had about her. “Yeah...but...I don’t think that she…”

“Hey, I understand. People change, and sometimes for the better. For example, I never figured Meredith for someone who was curious about playing for the same team, if you catch my meaning, despite my attempts to get her to sign up. Looks like I just wasn’t her type,” Lydia said, feigning having been hurt by Meredith’s rejection of her previous attempts at hitting on her.

What is she saying? Is she implying that Meredith...and I...are...

“Then again, looking at what I was competing against...” Lydia ran her eyes blatantly over Monica, lingering on her breasts. Lydia ogling her, and having big breasts and displaying them so as to draw someone as cute as Lydia to them, shot an inadvertent excitement through Monica, and she felt her pussy quiver in secret gratification. “...I really can’t hold it against her.” Lydia gestured over to Meredith. “Whenever she spoke of you, she always mentioned how beautiful you were, in addition to the rest. I could tell she had a thing for you, despite your differences.” Lydia was embellishing her report of Meredith’s remarks and her supposed opinion of Monica in the past, wanting to stir things up between the two, in case nothing really was going on yet, and, as a lesbian seeking to draw as many pretty girls into her way of life as possible, especially this one, to plant ideas into Monica’s head.

“She said that...about me?”

“Yeah...but she didn’t do you justice. I wouldn’t mind having a cutie like you to play with all to myself, either,” Lydia finished with a seductive purr.

Monica’s eyes went wide at Lydia’s banter. The fetching creature before Monica was sending unmistakable signals that she was interested in her, as well as in Meredith. Not sure about what to think or how to properly respond, having never been hit on by a woman, all Monica could do was blush, nervously avoid eye contact, and try to change the subject.

Monica pointed at the statue at which she had been gawking just a minute earlier. “Uh… I-I, um…I’m interested in this statue.” It was the only thing she could think of blurting out. But it was true. She didn’t know why a statue of a voluptuous, half-naked, beautifully red-haired fantasy woman would interest her; nevertheless, the statuette--or, more to the point, the woman portrayed by it--had captivated her...and had made her fantasize...about her...and about Meredith...

“Ah, you have good taste. That marvelous piece of highly detailed sculpted resin is Jean Grey in her infamous Black Queen attire from the Dark Phoenix Saga from Uncanny X-Men, issue 132.”

Monica just gave Lydia a puzzled look, as she didn’t have a clue as to what the lithe blonde beauty was talking about. She wasn’t nearly as knowledgeable as girls like Meredith and Lydia when it came to the subjects of pop culture and its various mediums, components, and subgroups.

Lydia responded to Monica’s confused look by letting the friendliness fade from her face and giving out an exasperated little sigh. Clearing her throat, Lydia leaned in and spoke in an imposing whisper.

“Look, I sense that you’re working on improving your relationship with Meredith, and who knows where that may take you, but don’t you think, given where you are and who you happen to be interested in, that maybe you could, you know, bother to know a bit more about the hobbies of the girl you’ve taken an interest in?” Monica recognized the displeased, disappointed tone in Lydia’s voice.

All Monica could do was just hang her head in shame, avoiding Lydia’s dismayed stare. She clearly had a valid point. If Monica wanted to get to know Meredith better and improve her relationship with her foxy, stunning red-haired girlfriend, then shouldn’t she make the effort to familiarize herself with Meredith’s interests and hobbies?

“S-Sorry. It’s just that we only started to get to know one another recently,” Monica said in an apologetic, meek tone.

“I see,” Lydia pondered, an idea forming in her head. “Well...then maybe I can help you. After all, Meredith and I are pretty close,” Lydia said as she brought up her index and middle fingers and crossed them to imply the closeness of the relationship she and Meredith had.

“Really?” Monica seemed to perk up at the assistance that Lydia was offering.

“Yeah. After all, I think I can tutor you in a few things. Are you interested?”

“Absolutely!” Monica’s subconscious mind conjured thoughts of lewd sapphic acts that she hoped Lydia would teach her if they could be alone together, but the idea of becoming tighter socially and emotionally with her lovely bedmate, by becoming familiar with one of her favorite hobbies, held great appeal to her conscious mind, as well.

“Then wait right here.”

Monica watched, mostly focusing on the petite girl’s rear and chest, as Lydia went to various racks and shelves and pulled several books from them. She also stepped into a back room for a minute before reappearing. When she got back, she placed a few stacks of trade paperbacks into Monica’s arms.

“Here. Some recommended reading. Let’s see… We have the Dark Phoenix Saga, Batwoman volumes one and two, Red Sonja volume one, Black Widow volumes one, two, and three, and the Harley Quinn & Ivy trade paperback. And some others. I think these should hold you over until next time.” What Lydia purposefully left out was that most of the stories in the books she handed to Monica involved a redheaded character--like Meredith--either with implied lesbanism or with outright confirmed lesbian or bi-sexual characters. Lydia guessed, correctly so, that Monica found Meredith’s red hair to be something which particularly attracted her, and showing her characters which reminded Monica of Meredith and her red hair in provocative attire and in lesbian situations, would stoke Monica’s desires for her “friend who is a girl”. Some of the comics also involved black-haired characters, like the sexy Vampirella and Wonder Woman, in whom Monica could see herself, whose skimpy costumes could suggest to Monica’s mind cues for revealing her own body, and whose romantic and sexual attraction to and involvement with other female characters in some issues could put ideas for similar conduct into Monica’s head. The room into which Lydia had made a detour--separated from the main body of the store by a glass-beaded curtain and labeled by a sign, which Monica had not seen, above the doorway stating “Mature Content - Adults Only” in one-inch-high red all-capital letters--contained adult material, from which Lydia had extracted a few items of lesbian porn comics and graphic novels and slipped them in among the other publications she was going to have Monica buy. Smiling to herself, she wished she could be there when Monica discovered them.

“Okay, just meet me at the counter and I’ll have you all set and ready to go. Now I want you to do your best and focus on the material I’ve given you. Got it?”

Monica nodded in response and then proceeded to the counter. As she walked over, it appeared that Meredith was just wrapping up her conversation with the couple who had greeted her on their arrival. When Monica approached, Meredith turned and was surprised to see her foxy friend with a small stack of trade paperbacks in her arms. It was a sight she had never imagined before.

“Well, well, well. Never thought I would see the day when someone like you would be interested in comics,” Meredith playfully teased.

Monica just blushed and stumbled, “You know...uh...you’re interested in them and...and I figured...because you like them...that...that I would give them a whirl...just...just to see what it’s all about. I had your friend …”

“Hey, Meredith, great to see you back,” Lydia interrupted gently. “I’m sure you’re here to pick up your usual pull list!”

“Lydia, I was wondering where you were. Didn’t see you when I came in.”

Lydia then opened her arms wide, leaned in over the counter--purposely teasing Monica with the sight of her cleavage--upon which both girls embraced in a friendly hug. During the long hug, the blonde’s hands roamed lower on Meredith’s back and crept their way almost onto Meredith’s sexy rear. While doing so, Lydia gave Monica a leering grin, as if challenging her to do or say something about what she was doing, or might be about to do--with Monica’s girl--but Monica wasn’t sure what to make of it. She ended up just assuming that it was simply a friendly hug and didn’t give it further thought...except that seeing those two cuties in an embrace stirred something sensually wicked in Monica’s mind. Buried inside herself, she wanted to see them not only embrace more tightly and longer, but to see Lydia’s hands rove over and grab Meredith’s ass, and to see them kiss romantically. However, much to Monica’s disappointment, the two young petite women at last separated.

“I was walking the floor, just checking on a few customers. Then I met this cute thing. Meredith, you naughty girl, keeping this hottie all to yourself. You know that I’m always looking for a new girl to know,” Lydia said in a sexually mischievous tone.

“You know, there are some people that you just want to keep to yourself. But it’s nice to hear that you and Monica got along.” Meredith said, apparently oblivious to Lydia’s innuendo.

“Absolutely. I think we might have a budding new fangirl on our hands,” Lydia playfully teased. “Well,” said Lydia as she gathered up Monica’s items, “let me check her out.” Again, no one reacted overtly to this double meaning, although both Meredith and Monica caught Lydia’s sapphic connotation. Monica blushed again but found herself quite enjoying Lydia’s sensual attention and indirect compliments.

“I want to pick up Meredith’s tab, too,” Monica interjected as she pulled out her credit card, gesturing to the small pile of comic books on the counter next to Meredith and then presenting the credit card to Lydia.

“Well, look at that. Sexy and generous. You sure know how to pick them, Meredith,” Lydia said with a sly smile and a seductive wink aimed at Monica.

Lydia’s open flirtation with Monica was not lost on Meredith, neither did it bother her. On the contrary, she was glad to see it. She had already decided that she would encourage Monica in whatever lesbian experiences might come her way. This was a primary part of the plan Claire had laid out to transform Monica from the haughty, contentious personality she had ever been, which was intricately intertwined with her self-image as a thoroughly heterosexual babe who could have virtually any man she wanted. Claire had gotten Meredith to agree that they would undercut Monica’s vaunted pride by undermining her heterosexuality, encouraging her into a lesbian perspective and tempting her into girl-on-girl situations, until Monica would at least be quite confused about her sexuality, if not converted completely into lesbianism. Meredith herself was to be the main bait, and Claire was to work on Monica, too, but sapphic experiences with other girls, as well, would only help the endeavor, Meredith understood. It was true that Meredith was not immune to jealousy, but she saw she would have to control whatever envy she might experience when other girls showed interest in “her girl”, and Monica responded, for the overriding goal of seeing Monica’s pride crumble and making her into a dependably amiable, malleable, subordinate friend for herself--as long as Meredith remained preeminent in Monica’s affections, which she, Meredith, would make sure was the case.

Little did Meredith realize that her eagerness to see Monica, as well as other girls, transform into a lesbian was actually more a result of the brainwashing she had undergone than of her plot with Claire, and Hecate had added the twist to the minds of Meredith and Monica that they were intent on Monica’s morals and modesty, such as she had, disintegrating and an ultra promiscuous slut arise within her--replacing the half-way, relatively tame, kind-of slut she had been over the last couple of years, more of a tease and a facade than the real thing--a real, deeply embedded, thoroughly depraved, and truly whorish slut, the exact kind of girl which would blow her mother’s mind--with Meredith following close behind, albeit perhaps with not quite as much abandon.

The compliment about her charitable act and, moreso, about her sexiness, spoken by another girl, and one who obviously liked her, caused Monica to blush in response. The Latina, while accustomed to young men being attracted to her and commenting about her sexy looks, was not used to getting that reaction from a pretty young woman, especially one to whom she found herself drawn, as well, and she found it both disorienting and exhilarating. She turned towards Meredith and was rewarded by a beautiful smile, as if to encourage Monica to welcome Lydia’s advances. Meredith’s beauty and charming smile, combined with Lydia’s allure and sapphic flirtations, caused her heart to go pitter-patter with adoration and desire for both of the cute girls who were before her.

The idea crossed Monica’s mind, as if from out of nowhere, of asking Meredith whether she would mind making theirs an open relationship, so that she, Monica, could date a girl like Lydia, too, or even of asking whether Meredith would be open to a ménage à trois with Lydia. However, the weakening remnant of her conservative psyche asserted itself over the emerging homosexual mindset implanted within her, to chase, as best it could for the time being, what her conscious mind perceived as impure notions out of her head. Why...why did I even think that? That was weird...

A few minutes later, Lydia had bagged and handed Meredith’s haul to her. Then the store owners started talking to the redhead again, who turned toward them, and lost attention for a few minutes on what was transpiring between Monica and Lydia. After placing Monica’s purchases into a large plastic bag, the blonde excused herself for a few seconds, went to a storage closet, and came back bearing a sealed box, containing, unknown to Monica, a copy of the statuette at which Monica had been gawking earlier, putting it on the counter next to Monica’s bag.

“What’s th--”

“It’s a little surprise for you, cutie. My gift to you. Don’t look inside until you get home.”

“Oh...well, thank you, Lydia...I think…”

“You’ll like it. Well, I guess we’ll see each other again in class on Monday. Are you going to sit with me? Or are you going to sit behind me again and stare at me?”

Monica blushed yet again. “Oh...uh...yes...I’d like to sit with you.”

“You can still stare at me, anyway. I don’t mind.” Monica could only blush more deeply and smile bashfully. “And if you want to get together before then, like for a lesson on comics...or for any other reason...I’m all in. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Meredith and her older friends wrapped up their conversation. The redhead turned back to the counter and picked up her bag. Lydia handed Monica’s plastic bag over to the anxious Hispanic hottie. As she did, she gently stroked her left index finger along Monica’s soft hand. A faint quiver of lust pulsed through Monica’s body in response to the calculated, flirty physical contact. Looking in the blonde’s face, Monica saw a clearly inviting look, which turned her quiver into a pronounced tremor. Taking the plastic shopping bag from the sexy, petite blonde, Monica gave her a little smile and a polite “thank you”.

Thinking they were about to leave, Monica started to pick her box up from the counter, when Meredith abruptly halted, stopping Monica, as well, and spoke to Carl. “Oh, wait. I almost forgot. I’ve always been curious about the Tarot: Witch of the Black Rose series.” All three of the staff raised their eyebrows a bit, for Tarot was a little more on the risque side of comics than Meredith normally had been interested in, telling the story of Tarot, a voluptuous, red-haired warrior witch, and her family, friends and lovers. The comic generally featured stories of fantasy action and adventure interspersed with frequent scenes of nudity. Issues were also backed up with guides for casting fan-submitted spells. A more reserved Meredith had not delved into them before, despite being curious, but a new thirst for the sensual and the taboo overrode her previous hesitation. “I was wondering if you had them in stock. I wanted to maybe check them out.”

“Oh, uh, sure, Meredith,” Carl replied. “Uh...let’s see… Lydia, do we keep those in the back room or out in the general stock?”

Lydia almost kicked herself for having forgotten the Tarot line of comics when she had composed a pile for Monica, for they were largely in line with the kind of material in which she had wanted to get the Latina interested. But this was working out. Meredith could buy them and they would be in their shared apartment, where Monica could check them out, too.

“It’s one of my favorite comics,” Lydia responded. “I know just where they are. Follow me.” With that, Lydia, Carl, and Meredith, traipsed off to another part of the store, leaving Monica, who watched the threesome depart, standing at the counter.

Several seconds later, Monica heard a female voice address her from behind. It sounded sweet and alluring, possessing a velvety matureness to it that made Monica feel warm and comforted. Monica turned to address the source of the enchanting voice and was pleasantly surprised that it came from the mature woman, Edie, who had caught her attention earlier when she first entered the comic book shop and who had been eclipsed by Lydia and Carl while they had rang up and bagged the purchases.

The mature woman had come around the counter, had approached Monica, and was now standing close, giving Monica a better view of her face, hair, and body. The lovely woman had the single braid of her long, silvery hair slung over her left shoulder. Her thick, shiny bangs were straight and curled inwards slightly at the ends. It was obvious the woman knew how to take care of her hair so as to make it healthy, glossy, and full, and cut, colored, and styled in a most tasteful and inviting manner.

While Edie would have worn heavier makeup had she known in advance that a beauty like Monica was going to come in, she didn’t have much makeup on today, but it was enough, and more than enough, for Edie had been a model in her younger days and retained most of her natural, youthful beauty, still possessing high cheekbones, full, beautifully-formed lips, clear, smooth, fair, healthily-glowing skin, and sparkling bluish grey eyes, features she shared with Lydia, who was her daughter, except that Lydia had light, crystal-blue eyes, both being true Nordic beauties. In her youth, Edie’s hair had been naturally dark blonde, like Lydia’s, but for most of her adult life she had kept it in one pale platinum shade or another, although there were periods when she experimented with other colors. In her mid twenties she adopted a black-haired, sometimes-goth look for a couple of years, a few years later she went with a bold unnatural violet-red color for nearly a year, and over much of her thirties, forties, and fifties she played with being a brunette off and on. Her current coloring had been inspired by a female character she had seen in a comic book.

As far as makeup went, today just a touch of the basics decorated her elegant face, for the most part, including a dash of black eyeliner that accented the elegant greys of the woman’s eyes nicely and a touch of rose-pink blush on her cheeks. But she had painted her lips more meticulously and heavily than the rest of her face, as coloring her lips dramatically and perfectly was her custom. Today they were covered with several coats of a very vibrant candy red lipstick. Those mesmerizing red lips seized Monica’s focus. Thoughts bubbled in her subconscious mind of what it would feel like to have those sweet, candied lips pressed against hers.

Edie’s figure was also stunning. It looked as if the woman was serious about keeping her body in shape, likely, Monica surmised, through exercise and judicious nutrition, and it showed in her taut curves, slender legs and arms, narrow waist, and tight, round rear end, which Monica noticed whenever Edie turned this way or that. Monica couldn’t see any negative signs of age on it. It still possessed the alluring, seductive curves of a body that wasn’t going to quit any time soon.

Above all, Monica now had a good view of Edie’s breasts, as her t-shirt was not only quite tight, but sported the same low scoop neckline of Lydia’s. Monica had guessed at first that they were about as big as Meredith’s, but now reconsidered. They were bigger, probably a nice C cup, judging by the deep cleavage, which was magnified thanks to the same kind of push-up bra which Lydia wore, and the titillating way they tented the dark blue Wonder Woman t-shirt Edie was wearing. Edie’s creamy mounds captivated Monica, and she found herself unable not to stare at them for several seconds.

As her eyes gradually roved down, Monica was equally thrilled by the curves of the mature woman’s wide hips and slender thighs that were shown off by the tight jeans she was wearing. As if she knew that Monica was checking her out and wanted another look at her ass, Edie shifted her weight from one leg to another, spinning a little as she did so, giving her guest the view, at least partially, that she suspected the Latina girl wanted.

Yes, Edie read in Monica’s eyes; it was the kind of delectable ass that went along with her hips and legs. All of this registered in Monica’s mind, mostly on a subliminal level, that Edie had quite the sexually appealing package going on for a woman her age--or, for that matter, of any age. But Edie’s age did figure in to Monica’s assessment and response to the woman. Somehow, Edie was all the more enticing and attractive to Monica because of her age and her maternal body and manner. Those aspects only stoked Monica’s mounting desire, although she didn’t analyze it consciously like that, and might have thought she was a little perverted if she had.

“Monica…” It was the second time Edie had said her name, and the second the distracted Monica had failed to respond.

“Monica, honey?” The older beauty reached out to touch Monica’s arm, stirring her back to her senses.

“Oh...uh...y-yes …?” Monica managed to stammer out. Again, the stunning mature beauty of the woman caught her off guard.

“I just wanted to hand you this,” Edie spoke softly as she handed Monica a page from her sketchbook. “A thank you for giving me a bit of inspiration.” Looking down at the sketch, Monica recognized that it was a drawing of her, except she was drawn to look like Wonder Woman in a striking, heroic pose, swinging her magic lasso. Monica’s gaze was drawn immediately to and settled on the prominent bust proudly on display in the eagle-emblazoned bustier of her patriotic-looking costume. Her breasts as depicted were much exaggerated in size and also were lifted breathtakingly by the bustier into melon-sized globes. They were definitely the focal point--or points-- of the picture. They were drawn to appear ready to burst over the top of the very low-cut bustier, very similar to the look of the Black Queen depicted in the statuette Monica had been admiring earlier. Edie had emphasized, as well, the unmistakable imprint of her nipples in the shiny material which was barely covering them and the way her star-spangled, satin-looking panties-like bottom hugged her hips, crotch, and rear, to the point of revealing a brazen hint of a camel toe.

Monica had never imagined herself as a supernatural character, a hero figure, or a half-naked Amazon warrior babe before, that she could remember, but this drawing of herself as a sexually provocative superheroine seemed to open her eyes as to her potential for...for something... Wow…

Did this bewitching woman see Monica like this version of Wonder Woman, she wondered. Monica assumed, correctly so, that Edie had a particular fondness for the Wonder Woman character, since she wore her on her shirt--underneath which Edie’s breasts pushed outward, distorting the illustration of Wonder Woman in a stirring manner, Monica noted to herself, as she had before. But did Edie’s apparent affinity for Wonder Woman mean that...that Edie likewise had a certain fondness for her, Monica? Those were the vibes she was getting.

“Thank you!” Monica said, touched by the sweet gesture from the woman. “I appreciate it very much.” Monica found herself liking this woman more by the second. She was like a combination of a mother, friend, mentor, and...and girlfriend...all rolled into one. Little did she suspect that, in making Edie’s acquaintance, she was also getting a former porn star as a new friend, mother figure, and potential love interest.

“You know, I’m sure you’ve been told this many times, hon, but you have amazing features, a very well-balanced symmetrical face, and a very nice, proportional body to go along with it. If you don’t mind me being bold, have you ever thought of modeling?”

Monica was stunned by Edie’s observations and question--not only by the fact that Edie was singing the praises of her beauty and physical charms, which she loved hearing coming from this remarkable, motherly woman’s lush,red lips, but, even moreso, by the sincerity of it. She had been praised for her beauty before, but mostly by gross boys who were saying it mainly to try to coax sexual favors out of her. Even her own mother had never bothered to praise Monica’s looks, even on the occasions when she had specially dolled herself up, such as for formal or otherwise special events that her family attended or hosted. In contrast, Edie’s compliments felt so sincere and genuine, as if coming from the mother she should have had. The fact that they were coming from a marvelous-looking, mature woman made them all the more welcome.

“T-Thank you, I’m … well, I never gave it much thought.”

“Well, it just happens that I teach part-time at the local community college. As you can probably guess, it’s art. Among the many things I have done in my life, such as modeling and some minor acting, I studied art. I became an illustrator in the comics industry, and did that for many years. Still do some, from time to time, although this shop and my classes keep me pretty busy nowadays…”.

Edie purposely left out the parts about her involvement in the porn industry for some time, and the fact that she still got calls from them for a photoshoot, a video part, artwork and product design creation, or to help in writing, editing, and production, from time to time. Having started off as a teen model and staying with mainstream fashion assignments through her early twenties, she veered off into the adult side, first in photoshoots for men’s magazines, then doing stripping, and then taking parts in videos.

Edie had always assumed that she was straight until one day soon after starting her porn career, she was asked to shoot a softcore girl-on-girl scene with a very attractive, leggy blonde named Rhonda. During the shoot, they were just down to their bras and panties touching and holding each other, nothing really explicit. The pictures and video taken were meant to only tease and entice nothing more than a sexaul appietizer before the main course of sorts. Edie then recalled that Rhonda offered to take her out for some dinner after the shoot had ended and something within Edie told her to accept the offer. That evening would always be remembered as an eye-opening experience for her. After their dinner together Rhonda invited Edie over to her small apartment for some coffee to just chat and talk about the business. It ended with Edie naked on Rhonda’s couch, her legs spread open, as she felt Rhonda’s delightful tongue working over her spasming pussy while her fingers sensually explored the depths of her carnal love tunnel all the while eliciting sounds of sinful pleasure from her body. The rest of the night had Rhonda educating Edie on the finer points of lesbian lovemaking. It was on that day that she knew she was lesbian. It was an awakening for Edie as she finally realized the reason why she always felt awkward around guys and her dates with them didn’t spark so much as a passing interest, why she felt that certain naughty tingle between her legs when an attractive woman came nearby, and why she felt so attracted towards females. Discovering over time that she had a strong preference for girls and for the lesbian side of her work, by the time she left the porn scene as a more or less full-time participant, she had been limiting herself to girl-on-girl porn work exclusively over her last several years.

During that same time, Edie built a side career as an artist in the comic book industry. Reflecting her evolving sexuality, she started concentrating on drawing voluptuous women and lesbian art, both for mainstream comics as well as for less conventional avant gard publishers and cheesecake and porn publications.

She met Carl in her early thirties at a swingers party during the early 80s. They had never legally married, as hooking up was a matter of convenience, both Carl and Edie being gay. Their relationship was of a friendly brother-sister platonic nature that allowed them to secretly indulge in their sexual lifestyle, rather than one of heterosexual attraction, although everyone assumed they were a married straight couple and they referred to each other as husband and wife. They saw no benefit in presenting themselves as anything else, as to come out back then and openly indulge in a homosexual lifestyle would have been frowned upon and would have meet with some very strong opposition. For the sake of keeping up the facade, Edie conceived and gave birth to Lydia, after which she retired, for the most part, from the porn business and they started their comic-book store, Carl having been a life-long aficionado of all things comic, anime, graphic, fantasy, and sci-fi. The “back room” in their shop, however, had not been his idea, but Edie’s. It was her favorite part of the store, in fact, and had become her daughter’s, as well. Lydia now had taken over personal management of it.

During her semi-retirement, Edie also went back to college, using some of the funds she had stored away, to earn a degree in art. She managed to land a part-time position at the local community college teaching students the finer points of expressing themselves through paint, ink, and pencil, especially savoring her contact with young coeds.

The easy-going Carl had known all about Edie’s past and current sexual proclivities, and was good with it all. After all, he himself was gay, and Edie didn’t give so much as a blip that he preferred guys over gals. He always thought of their “marriage” as a very open, tolerant relationship, and it allowed each of them to take pleasure when and where they wanted to, although there were times when they did have to be discrete to avoid the suspicions of a nosy neighbor or two.

When Carl reflected on his relationship with Edie over the years, a mirthful smile would invariably appear on his face. He would recall how they had so often chatted about their previous night’s sexual exploits over breakfast in a friendly game of one-upmanship. Sometimes they had both brought partners to their home for the night at the same time to see who could make their partner moan, beg, and scream the loudest, doing such while maintaining the illusion of a normal, happily married couple. It was these kinds of memories that always gave him a sense of gratification when he thought of his relationship with Edie.

Just because they don’t fuck each other didn’t mean they didn’t care for one another. Carl did love Edie, but it was more of a brotherly platonic love. They both took satisfaction in the way they overlooked each other’s foibles, worked together as a team, and understood one another, almost seeming able to read each other’s minds and anticipate each other’s opinions.

“Would you like to see some of my work?” Edie asked Monica coyly.

“Oh, sure…”

“This way, dear…” Edie motioned for Monica to follow her to the large bulletin board, only part of which, the left half, was openly visible to the general public in the store, while the right half could only be seen by stepping behind a partition. The left side of the bulletin board was littered with index cards showing various hand-scrawled, informal ads and message posted by store customers, and with photos of staff and customers in a wide variety of comic-book, anime, and sci-fi costumes, several showing quite elaborate measures with makeup and props to simulate favorite characters. The right side of the bulletin board was filled with a more risque selection of photos, comic-book and magazine covers, and illustrations, many of and by Edie.

“See...I did these…” Edie pointed to a number of her illustrations, some of sci-fi spacescapes, some of fantasy creatures, battles, and landscapes, some of comic-book characters, and some being pure cheesecake, all of voluptuous, sexy, magnificent women, most clothed provocatively, and some not clothed at all. A couple of them depicted two fantasy women together, but the illustrations were ambiguous enough to easily have a non-homosexual interpretation. One, for example, showed Supergirl and Power Girl floating in the air in an embrace and with facial expressions which could be showing them about to engage in combat or about to kiss, either one.

Monica blushed, but was fascinated. Then her eyes roved more over this steamy side of the bulletin board, landing on photos of Edie, mostly from her younger days, showing her in her various incarnations and hair colors, some from her legitimate modeling days and some from later. There was an 80’s Seventeen magazine cover featuring a teen, dark-blonde Edie in a swimsuit, and there was another cover of her with black hair and in daring lingerie on a magazine entitled “Oui” from around 1990, which Monica did not realize was an explicit men’s publication of that era. And then there were photos of her in her platinum-blonde and brunette haydays. While Monica expressed her admiration of Edie’s artist skill, she was most taken with the sexy allure of the women Edie illustrated and of Edie herself in her younger days.

“What do you think?

“Wow, Edie. You are so talented.”

“Why, thank you, Monica. What pictures do you like the best?”

Monica pointed to another illustration of Wonder Woman, this one in full color and having Edie’s face. It was as even more erotic than the one Edie had given Monica. She also selected the Supergirl-Power Girl drawing.

“Ah, yes, those are two of my favorites, too. I can see you and I have similar tastes. How about some others.”

Monica pointed to the Oui magazine cover, showing Edie in daring lingerie and with deep black hair, a glamour photo taken of Edie with platinum blonde hair, and another of a dark-brunette Edie on what looked like a movie set.”

“Oh, I see you like those photos of me modeling and acting. Well, thank you again. You’re very kind.” Edie allowed Monica to stand there, drink in the pictures on the bulletin board--mainly its right side--and ogle her more as she talked with her further. Subtly, the older beauty slid next to Monica and slipped her hand around Monica’s waist. It seemed so motherly and natural to the Latina, as well as sensually exciting, that Monica responded by unconsciously leaning slightly toward her companion.

“Anyway, for my classes I sometimes like to have live models present for students to use. The pay isn’t much, about $40 for five hours of your time, but you also get a free meal out of it.”

“Wow...really? I...I never thought of myself as a model… But to stand in front of other people while they...while they draw me…? I...I don’t know… Would I...would I have to take my clothes off?”

“Of course...at least some of them...sometimes more…” Edie’s hand slid down onto Monica’s hip, her two smaller fingers spread down a little onto the girl’s curvy rear. Monica noticed the move, but only peripherally, as she was concentrating on Edie’s words and on the bulletin board, but she liked what she did notice. “But modeling can take many forms, you know, hon. And besides, nudity can be quite, oh, exhilarating...don’t you think?”

After Edie made that statement, it struck Monica as true. She thought back to the previous night...with Meredith… Nudity did indeed strike Monica as an exhilarating concept. It had been so with Meredith………..but…….....in front of other people? In public? Maybe not that...

“Yeah...well...Edie, I appreciate the offer...but …”

“I understand. You need time to think it over. No problem.” Edie stepped back to the counter, Monica following her. “But if you have a change of heart...” Edie said in her most charming voice, as she bent over a little, opened a drawer, and began to fish through its contents. In doing so, she gave Monica a teasing view of the valley between her breasts. While the display seemed unintentional, it grabbed Monica’s full attention, making her catch her breath and causing her nipples to tingle, just the same.

Finding what she was looking for, Edie handed Monica a small card with her contact info on it.

“Feel free to contact me. And it doesn’t have to be about modeling. Anything at all, whether it’s about comics...or relationships…” Edie looked over at Meredith and Lydia off in another part of the store, as if she had figured out what was going on between Monica and Meredith, and maybe between Monica and Lydia, as well. The little gesture was ambiguous, but the possibility that Edie might think she was interested romantically in girls made Monica blush. “...or life...or whatever. Meredith thinks of me as her mom away from home, and Lydia as her sister, and I’d like it if you did the same thing. You know where you can find me, pretty young lady.” Edie said as she flashed Monica a very friendly smile.

As they exchanged the card, their fingers touched for a second. A bedroom with a large red-satin-sheeted bed flashed into Monica’s mind. On it she saw herself and Edie, both naked, facing each other, leaning their upper bodies away from each other some, both in a semi-reclined posture, and holding hands, painted-nailed fingers interlaced, scissoring their legs and rubbing their pussies together passionately. The vision left as fast as it came, and she wasn’t sure exactly what she had envisioned, but it left the Latina beauty shocked, breathless, quivering, and excited.

Speechless, Monica only nodded her head in agreement as she took the card in her shaking hand and placed it along with the drawing of herself into her shopping bag. Inside herself, Monica found her heart both pouding and melting. What a wonderful, beautiful woman she had just added to her life! A wonderful, beautiful, motherly, bewitching, sexy woman. Monica knew she would do anything to see her again. Anything.

Meredith returned to the checkout counter with additional comics, paid for them, added them to the contents of her bag, and picked the bag up, now finally ready to go. While Monica stood waiting for the new transaction to finish, she snuck glances several times at Edie, who caught her a couple of times, locked eyes with her, and smiled affectionately at the blushing Latina. In due time, holding the strap of her bag with one hand, Monica scooped up the box, as well, and started to leave with Meredith, after they both said their goodbyes.

As she approached the door, Monica looked back at Lydia and Edie, being unable to resist one last look at the pretty coed and her unforgettable mother. The cute petite blonde, whose eyes had been lingering on the retreating curvy Latina’s backside, gave her a seductive wink and smile, and threw out, “Thanks for shopping Long Box Comics. Hope you had a good experience and hope to see you come back sometime soon!”

“Y-y-yeah… um… I’ll see you soon,” Monica said, pleased to now know where the cute blonde who had caught her attention in her business management class could be found outside of class, but undecided and uncertain whether or not she would be making any attempts to visit the cutie who caught her fancy. Part of her wasn’t sure if she should be seeing Lydia. It felt as if that would be being unfaithful to her friend, Meredith. Also she wasn’t sure if Lydia had been making advances on both her and Meredith, or just one of them primarily, or neither, and was just playing with Monica. Was the attraction she felt for Lydia, and Lydia’s seeming moves on her, merely the product of an overactive imagination and her happy feelings over her improved relationship with Meredith?

As Meredith and Monica were walking through the front door, Monica turned her head to look back yet one more time, and saw both Lydia and Edie waving goodbye. For a brief moment, Monica swore she saw Lydia give her another sly, seductive wink.

What does that mean? Does she really like me? Is she coming onto me? Does she know me and Meredith are dating? Is she trying to help us, or is she getting between me and Meredith? Will I have to choose between her and Meredith? What should I do? And then...what about her mom…?

In her mind there was a storm of mental conflicts she was trying to sort through. Never in her life had she been plagued by such thoughts and emotions. It was frustrating trying to make sense of them all.

However, before the thoughts could become too overbearing, Monica felt a soft feminine hand reach out and encircle her slim young waist. She soon felt a sense of calm and serenity began to flow through her, chasing away her concerns and worries. Monica turned to face the cute redhead who was holding her around the waist and was greeted by a brilliant, warm smile from Meredith. It was as if she knew that Monica was emotionally distressed and this was her way of helping.

Monica returned the smile as they made their way back to Meredith’s car. Meredith opened one of the back doors so Monica could slide her box onto the back seat, set her own bag on the floor in back of the front passenger seat, as well, and then opened Monica’s passenger door for her, as a chivalrous boy might do for his girlfriend on a date--although, in this case, it was a girl doing the courtesy for her girlfriend.

Monica noticed Meredith’s thoughtful treatment of her, and reflected briefly on how appropriate such behavior was between people who are dating. Monica found herself charmed by the little act, which made them seem all the more to Monica to be in a romantic relationship. She, in turn, thanked her girlfriend sweetly. On Meredith’s part, she found playing the part of a responsive and protective companion for her beautiful, feminine girlfriend, and to see the Latina’s appreciation and enjoyment of her little attentions, to be a natural and rewarding type of behavior.

As she got in, Monica set her large shopping bag on her lap and noticed a folded piece of bright red paper with her receipt at the top of the bag’s contents. Curious, she reached in, pulled it out and unfolded it. Written on it was a message from Lydia. “If you ever need any help, of any kind,” with the words “any kind” being underlined, “call me.” The note had Lydia’s cell number written under her brief message. A thrill shot through the Hispanic beauty.

“Hey, what’s that?” inquired Meredith as she got into her car.

Quickly Monica shoved the piece of paper into the left pocket of her jeans.

“N-nothing, it’s… um… some recommendations from Lydia,” Monica responded nervously. “I asked for some additional comics to read and she wrote down a few.”

“I see. I like your interest. Looks like someone has a little nerd girl in her,” Meredith playfully teased, unaware of the sexual innuendo she had made. Monica just blushed in response. She had never thought she’d be interested in nerd-girl things, like comic books, yet here she was about to dive into that world and, her little fib to Meredith about the note from Lydia notwithstanding, looking forward to doing so, based on the covers, posters, and other illustrations--and the statuette--she had already seen featuring beautiful, powerful, voluptuous, scantily-clad fantasy women. She wanted to see more, and to find out what was behind Meredith’s and Lydia’s interest.

“What’s in the box, Monica?”

“Oh… I don’t know. Lydia said it was a surprise, and that I shouldn’t open it until I got home.”

“Hmmm… Looks like you have an admirer. She was totally taken by you, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t think it was all that much……... Do you really think she was?”

“Trust me, what you saw there was a tamer, HR-appropriate version of the Lydia I know. She can be very upfront and blatant about her sexuality, even more than you saw, and if she’s interested in a girl, or thinks that two girls look cute together and think they should hook up, she tries her best to see it happen. Besides her flirting and hitting on you, she’s tried to also hit on me, too. But in your case, I can’t say I blame her. Do you like her?”

“Yes… Oh, I don’t mean like that. She’s just really cute and friendly, is all.” And sexy… I would like to get to know her...but…

“She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

“Yeah...very…” There was a slightly distant tone in Monica’s voice.

“You know...you could date her… I wouldn’t mind…”

Monica didn't think she heard Meredith correctly. “Wh...what?”

“Well...think about it…”

Monica wasn’t sure what to do. Even if she were to call Lydia, what could she even possibly talk about, as they didn’t have much in common? Unless...unless she, Monica, really got into the kinds of comics Lydia had recommended to her... That wouldn’t be so bad… I can do that… As if on cue, Meredith interrupted Monica’s train of thought.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m all set.”

“Cool. Well, let’s be on our way.” Meredith then gently eased her car out of the parking spot and merged with the traffic on the street.

“Well...what did you think of the store?”

“I...I liked it...a lot more than I thought I would. Actually, it’s a pretty cool place.”

“I found them my first week here. Carl and Edith just took me in, like I was their own daughter, and--oh, did you know that Lydia is their daughter?--so Lydia and I became friends, too. She’s almost like a sister.”

“Oh… You’re so lucky to know them, Meredith.”

“Yes, that’s true………….... I’m lucky to know you, too, Monica.”

Monica reached over and embraced Meredith’s hand with hers, again feeling the soothing effect of the physical contact and the emotional exchange. “That’s how I feel, too...Meredith.” Meredith turned for a second to look at her lovely companion and smiled. Monica let out a soft purr as she felt Meredith give her hand a gentle squeeze.

Both women were unaware of the intended fate that Hecate had for them as they drove off. Monica, in particular, was oblivious to the way she had felt and acted so much like a lesbian in the store and before, and was continuing now, and the way she was accepting the idea of dating girls, and especially Meredith, so naturally. In her mind, she was just a normal straight girl getting to know and like and be attracted to other pretty girls, and one who was enjoying the experience of finally having a close, intimate friend in her life. That was quite normal, wasn’t it? And after all, as the voice echoing in her head reminded her from time to time, girls should date girls…

********************

Claire’s head began to stir. Her brow slowly furrowed as she started to regain consciousness. There was movement that jostled her around a little. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was in a moving car. When it dawned where she was, Claire bolted upright in her seat in shock and embarrassment.

“Whoa there, partner!” exclaimed a startled voice to Claire’s left. “Nearly gave me a scare there. You okay, Claire?”

It took a few seconds to register, but Claire finally realized that she was in Traci’s car and was going to spend the weekend at her house. Claire had used the excuse of wanting to mentor Traci’s daughter, Natasha, as a way of inviting herself over. Traci was the very kind and extremely beautiful office assistant to Regina Burke. Traci was a woman whom Claire was also starting to see as her own mother, although not as much as Regina, and someone for whom she had started to develop sexual feelings.

“I-I’m so sorry, Traci. I’m not sure what came over me. I didn’t mean to doze off like that.”

“That’s okay, sweetie. Besides, you only dozed off for a few minutes. Nothing to be ashamed of. And it really should be me apologizing to you. After all, I kept you in a dull, stuffy office with not much to do for a good chunk of the morning. Not really a fun way for a pretty young college woman like you to start her weekend,” Traci said apologetically, while seductively gilding her fingers over Claire’s thigh, provoking a pleasant shudder to travel up the black-haired girl’s spine.

Claire noticed that she was wearing a skirt--a short one, riding high up her thighs--seemingly made of black leather. She didn’t remember owning one, nor putting one on today, nor did she wear skirts much, and, if she did, they wouldn’t have been short, like this one, at least she wouldn’t have chosen one like this in the past. She also perceived that Traci’s fingers were touching the skin of her thigh directly...or, no...more precisely, Traci’s beautifully red-nailed fingers were running along her nylons. Claire hardly ever wore nylons. And Traci had never touched her like this before, that she could recall. Traci’s liberty seemed to imply that they were somehow...together...like, dating...but……..

Oh...yeah...they were on a date, actually, kind of...weren’t they? Her mind was a little cloudy about it all for a time, until it clarified more in her head in favor of this probably being a date of some kind, but three things she ascertained fairly quickly were, first, that she liked wearing the short skirt--it was definitely a miniskirt, unlike any skirt she had worn in the past, she realized--and nylons, which combination, though a first-time novelty for her, seemed just right for her, too; second, that she was alone with Traci and was delighted about that situation; and, third, that she loved Traci’s hand on her leg. So she didn’t question any of it further.

Turning to gaze upon Traci, Claire found she could not take her eyes off her lovely, made-up face, inviting, painted lips, soft, shining blonde hair with its new color, and her grand, braless breasts as they bobbled with the vibrations of a car in motion. Traci looked over at her, smiling sweetly, and playing with Claire’s leg as she did. Never had Traci looked so beautiful, so alluring, so desirable, it seemed to Claire.

Claire didn’t know why, but Traci’s looks, smile, and playful caress triggered a cascade of high levels of arousal to course through her body. Almost instantly, she could feel her nipples stiffen and poke into her bra, as well as the very telltale wetness between her legs and her pussy aching and throbbing with sexual lust and desire, and with the need for release.

However, what Claire didn’t know was that this was all part of the artful manipulation that Traci and her daughter, Natasha, under the guidance of Regina, had planned for her.

A short time earlier at the Preston University administration building…

Stepping out of the elevator, Claire and Traci entered the parking garage under the building and made their way towards Traci’s car--and that was all Claire would later recall about her time there. Claire had never been in this parking structure before, as it was reserved for the college’s administrative staff, and Traci had not parked in it when she had given Claire a ride previously, having instead used the above-ground lot available to students, staff, and public alike. This underground garage was deserted today, except for Traci’s car, which Claire recognized as they approached it, as it was the weekend and the college staff who used it during the week were gone.

“Well, in a few minutes we’ll be on our way, and then we get to have a little girls’-only fun to ourselves. Sound good, Claire?”

“Absolutely, and I just can’t wait to meet Natasha,” Claire enthused, completely oblivious to the type of fun that Traci wanted to have.

“Of course. I think you two will get along so well. You two are going to have so much fun together. More than you know. I believe you’re going to end up as bosom buddies. Like sisters.” The two women, having almost arrived at Traci’s car, were slowing their pace. “Oh, wait, there’s just one more thing I need to do.”

“What would that be, Traci?”

“Can Mandy come out and play?”

Upon hearing those words, Claire immediately froze in her tracks and a blank, oblivious expression suddenly appeared on her face replacing the alert, cheerful expression originally there. Cautiously, Traci approached Claire. When she got in front of her, Traci snapped her fingers to see if Claire would react. She let out a sigh of relief when Claire did nothing.

Traci had activated one of Claire’s mental conditioning triggers, one that had been implanted in her mind when she first came into Hecate’s nefarious clutches. Given the uncompleted level of conditioning that Claire had undergone so far, there was no guarantee that Claire’s programmed command phrase would work, so Traci was gratified to see that speaking the words actually had the intended effect.

“Claire? Hello, Claire. Can you hear me?” Traci spoke with a cautious tone. She was informed that while Claire was in this state, she could make statements and issue commands and Claire would believe and follow them as if they were her own thoughts, desires, and decisions. However, Traci was also aware that Claire was at a very delicate stage in her transformation into becoming a lesbian agent for Hecate, so she had to be careful as to what she did with Claire while she was in this state.

“Y-Yes, I can,” Claire responded in an emotionless tone.

“Then tell me where you are and what we’re doing,” Traci commanded.

“I’ve been in the administration building with you, Traci,” Claire answered in a flat voice. “We’re in the underground parking garage. We were on our way to your car.”

“That’s very good, my dear...very good, indeed. But tell me, why are you going to my car?”

“Y-you’re driving me to your house. I-I’m spending the weekend there.”

“Yes, yes indeed. Do you know why you’re spending the weekend at my house?”

“I-I think...uh...to...spend time with you...you’re so beautiful...and so...so blonde...and to...to meet your daughter, Natasha… I’m going to be, like, her big sister...and mentor her…help her with her homework...talk to her about her future plans...and...maybe help her in selecting a college...”

“No, silly...although I will agree that there will be some mentoring. Just nothing as dull as picking colleges, my sweet little kitten.” Traci seductively whispered the last phrase of her statement into Claire’s ear as she leaned in, slid her right hand onto Claire’s firm ass, and gave it a good squeeze, while lightly kissing her ear. Claire jumped slightly, unaccustomed as she was to romantic physical contact with another woman, at least according to what she thought she remembered..

After letting Claire bask in their budding intimacy a few moments, Traci stepped behind Claire, slipped her arms under Claire’s, and took the black-haired coed’s breasts in her hands. Claire instinctively tensed and gasped, as she thought she had never had anyone touch or even try to touch her in the manner that Traci was doing. Of course, there had been her ex-boyfriend, Darren, but his version of intimacy was much tamer than what Traci was doing, and certainly void of the ensnaring sensuality of touch which Traci possessed; and also Regina had felt her up, as had Abby some, but Claire had been entranced for some of those episodes and didn’t remember them afterwards, and other incidents she recalled only as daydreams.

Traci’s hands squeezed Claire’s breasts, then started to rove over more of the coed’s body. Claire began to moan softly and squirm slightly as she enjoyed Traci’s soft caresses of her body. As her foxy companion continued to molest her body, Claire eventually relaxed, accepting and welcoming Traci’s advances, as she felt the beautiful blonde woman’s fingers freely roam all over her body.

“Ohhhh...Traaaciiiii….” Claire mewed. “Oh, yeah… We’re...we’re on a date..two women out together...like...like…”

“Like lesbians, darling.”

“Yeah...like lesbians…….. But...but I don’t date girls… When I called you, I didn’t mean for you to think this was a...uh...like a date… I’m not...not a…”

Traci’s fingers pinched Claire’s bottom erotical, causing her to gasp. Traci finished the sentence for her swooning companion. “A lesbian.”

“Yeah…”

“Oh, stop, babe. Of course you are. Why would you date another woman unless you were a lesbian? And we are dating now. That’s really what you wanted this to be all along, even before you called me. But you have much higher goals than to simply stay at my house like some slumber party and then go home, whether we call it a date or not. The real reason you’re spending the weekend with me and my daughter is because you want to seduce us into having sex with you, you naughty little minx, you.”

“S-seduce you and your daughter into having s-sex with me…?” Claire repeated back robotically, but a bit perplexed.

“That’s right, Claire. Don’t you remember talking with Regina this morning?”

“Oh...yeah...and she...she said…”

“She told you she wanted you to seduce me and…”

“...and to make you and Natasha into lesbian lovers…”

“Exactly.”

“But...but wasn’t she just kid--”

“Oh, no no, Claire. It was an assignment. And you agreed to it. You thought it was a great idea. You are very eager to show Regina and Mrs. Powers how much of a lesbian you can be, and what’s more, you are powerfully attracted to me and you want to start a romantic and sexual relationship with me. You had been thinking of asking me out, and even trying to seduce me, even before she mentioned it. That’s how you remember it now...don’t you?”

“Oh...uh...yeah… I...I guess that’s right…”

“Let’s review a little bit, just to make sure your memory has it right. We’ll get the ‘date’ part settled first. You called me and asked me out. Remember?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember that we agreed that this was a ‘date’.”

“...um...yes…”

“You wanted to make sure that I understood that you were going to be my date tonight...that this is the start of us dating...and becoming girlfriends...lesbian girlfriends… This is exactly what you wanted from the day we met...isn’t it?”

“I...I guess so… Yes...it is…”

“Well, your dream has come true. You and I are now dating. We are on a date...our first date..a girl-on-girl date...a lesbian date...at long last.

“You are done dating men, Claire. You have no interest in men at all. If a man ever asks you out, you will simply and quickly say no, not interested, without even considering it for a second, as an automatic reaction. The very thought of being with a man in any romantic or sexual situation makes you nauseated. You will never date a man again, ever. That’s true, isn’t it?”

As Claire searchd her feelings, she saw that Traci read her perfectly. “That’s right, Traci. Men are...YUK!”

“On the other hand, you want to date women, lots and lots of them. You are very excited, giddy, even, to, with me, finally be dating a woman, especially one as beautiful and sexy as me. I am your dream woman, or one of them. To date me...and to get into my panties...and to lure me into yours...you know this is what you have wanted since we first met. You want to fuck me, don’t you, Claire?”

Claire had not yet thought that far ahead consciously about where and how far she wanted her relationship with Traci to go, but now that Traci suggested it, she “realized” that, yes, she had always really wanted to go all the way with the beautiful blonde vixen.

“...yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Traci...I...I want to...to fuck you...so bad…”

“I know… You’re such a randy little slut, aren’t you? And a true lesbian, too.”

“Uh...I...I guess I am…”

“No, Claire. There is no ‘guess’ here. A beautiful, sexy young woman like you who asks out a fox like myself, for the sole purpose of fucking her, who lusts for girls, and kisses and dates and beds them, like you...what else would you call her?” At first Claire wondered exactly what Traci was talking about, but then she remembered her carnal feelings lately for her roommates, Abby, Regina, and other girls, and the fact that she was in a secret dating relationship with Meredith, and that she had kissed Meredith, Traci, Regina, and Jessica, and that she had slept in a very cuddy way, in bras and panties, no less, with Jessica, and that they were going to start dating, too… She wasn’t acting or feeling much like a straight girl… Yes… Traci was speaking the truth.

“Tell me what you are, Claire, sweetheart.”

“I...I’m a lesbian…”

“Right, and not just any lesbian, but a very promiscuous, slutty, abandoned lesbian, one without modesty, morals, or qualms. You love seducing and corrupting women and girls, especially those you think are too straight and ‘good’, but also if they are particularly attractive. You flaunt your beauty and your body readily to get your way.

“Your goal for the weekend is to convince me and Natasha to have lesbian sex with you. You now remember that Regina gave you this as an assignment as part of your training--which you now view, deep within yourself, to be training to actually become a lesbian, a real lesbian, rather than merely to see the world from a lesbian viewpoint. That’s what you really want it to be, and you are very comfortable and happy with and grateful for that training, as you, deep-down, wanted to become a genuine lesbian, rather than to simply pretend to be one. Think back again to talking with Regina about me and your date with me this weekend.”

Claire did so, once more recalling her phone conversation with Regina that morning, as well as previous discussions they had had. Traci was extracting elements of those exchanges, twisting them in Claire’s memory, and planting suggestions, which Claire was accepting. “...okay...”

“Thanks to Regia’s guidance, you are well on your way to being a true lesbian. The online ‘sensitivity course’ convinced you that you are on the right path. It was your understanding with Regina, you now believe, that once you completed that course then you would seek real lesbian experiences, even ones involving you seducing other women. When Regina recommended that I be the first one you seduce, you jumped at the chance, for you had already been thinking about me a lot, you had already been lusting for me, you felt drawn to me with an erotic destiny, you wanted a sexual and romantic relationship with me, and you wanted to be intimate with me as soon as you could, but you didn’t know how to. Regina told you to call me up and ask me out, which you already had been thinking about doing. Regina’s direction gave you the courage to actually do it. You proposed to her that you seduce my daughter, too, and she thought it was a great idea. When she suggested that you lead Natasha and me into an incestuous mother-daughter sexual relationship, you embraced the idea wholeheartedly and promised to do that.

“Let me emphasize that you promised Regina you would do it, and you could not possibly let her down now. But, even though Regina directed you to come into my home with seduction and sex as your aim, you came up with the same mission on your own, too. Your goal to seduce me and my daughter into lesbian love, to corrupt us, is the product of your own lustful mind, not just Regina’s. Think you’re up for the challenge?”

There was an eerie silence lingering in the air as Claire thought Traci’s words over. Until now, she had not thought much about why she called Traci the night before. She had made the excuse of wanting to offer academic assistance to Natasha, but that must have been a flimsy pretense at best. In fact, in this day and age most parents would be leery of a young woman or anyone in general making excuses to see their teenage daughter, but fortunately Traci hadn’t taken it like that. No...instead...now that Claire was thinking it over...it was clear... It was her lust for Traci which had led to the call… Yes...she had asked Traci out… She wanted to get into Traci’s panties...and into her daughter’s, too... Claire did want to take advantage of the teen...like some kind of a wicked pervert...but, yes…and she found the idea of a mother and daughter falling in love, and she being the instigator of that, to be extremely hot.

Claire was unaware that she had been under the subtle influence of her brainwashing when she had made the call and made that offer, but she now “realized” what her true motives and intentions now were and always had been regarding Traci and Natasha: lesbian sex. Her goal, as Traci stated, was to seduce both mother and daughter and engage for the weekend in a series of lewd sapphic sexual interactions with both of them.

“Traci… I want to...but...but I don’t know how to seduce someone… I’ve never done…”

“Claire, it won’t be that hard, not for you, not with your body. Your body is your key. Show it off. Take every opportunity to display your tits, especially. Call attention to your body as much as you can. Make it obvious that your body is available for love. That is 90% of what you have to do. Then, don’t be shy about touching. Touch and smile and flirt. Play with your own hair and your tits. Stare openly at your partner’s body and lips. Let your target know you are interested in her sexually. Leave no doubt about it. Tell her that you want to kiss her. When you do, make it more than just a kiss. Run your hands over her body. Make the kiss very, very deep and wet. Get her so hot for you that she wants more, much more of you. That’s how you start.”

“Okay...but what do I do after that? Like, I don’t know what lesbians do, like, you know, in the bedroom…”

“You just let nature take its course, sweetie. You do whatever you want to. But, darling, haven’t you ever seen lesbian porn?” Traci knew all about Claire’s early evening with Jessica the day before, and about the lesbian porn DVD’s still in Claire’s possession, for Traci had been the one who planted them for Claire to find.

Claire remembered that she had, just the day before. “Oh...yeah...I have…”

“Well? How did you like it? Do you like lesbian porn?”

“Oh, yeah… I love it.”

“You’re going to want to read and watch lesbian porn all the time, darling. Aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

“When did you last watch some lesbian porn, sweetheart?”

“Last night.” It was, of course, the first time for her, as well.

“Well, did you see girls having sex?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know at least some of the sexual things women do with each other, don’t you?”

Claire not only recalled the acts she had witnessed, but also the curiosity and desire which she had felt at the time to experience them herself.

“Yes.”

“Can’t you do what you saw?”

“....well...yeah… I think so…”

“So...do you think you can do this assignment?”

“Y-yes… I can do it.”

“That’s good to hear, my dear, very good, indeed. Regina will be very proud,” Traci whispered, as she pressed herself against Claire’s body, followed by her leaning in and playfully nibbling on Claire’s left ear while she gave Claire’s ample breasts another grope with her hands. Claire leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and sighed, drinking in the delight of being so close to and so invasively handled by the blonde woman she liked and desired so much.

The mention of Regina’s name conjured a clear and sexy image in Claire’s mind of Regina dressed in a bra, panties, garter belt, nylons, and high heels, all in black, making her knees go weak with adoration and lust for her new mother figure. “Regina… ahhhhhh....” She mewed almost inaudibly. That vision and Traci’s continued molestation of her body caused Claire to let out a soft moan as a very strong pulse of lust travelled up from between Claire’s legs and up her spine, blasting her brain with an intense explosion of pleasure that she couldn’t deny.

“You are a lesbian...and a wicked slut… You desire to have sweet lesbian sex with a mother and daughter. With me…” Traci pinched Claire’s nipples through her green bra, eliciting a sharp gasp, “...so very much like your old mother, Mary, whom you want to fuck soooo bad... and with my beautiful but innocent young daughter...so much like a sister to you... You want to corrupt her, don’t you?! What a depraved sister and daughter you are! What an incestuous lesbian pervert! You want to seduce us...and you will!”

“Y-y-yes… I can,” Claire groaned out in confirming the goal set for her by the sexy blonde who was touching her aroused body all over.

“Do you think of Natasha as your sister, honey?”

“Yes...she’s a sister to me…”

“Yet...you want to have sex with her...don’t you?” Traci kneaded Claire’s breasts more aggressively.

“Ohhh, yes!”

“And if you are Natasha’s sister, who am I to you?”

“My...my mother…”

“Ah, right. I am your mother. You’re going to seduce and fuck your own mother, aren’t you?”

“Yessssssss…”

“But that’s not all… You’d love to see me make love to my daughter, Natasha...wouldn’t you?”

The idea had not crossed Claire’s mind before Regina had proposed something like it that morning, she thought, but now that it had, she loved it. There was something about sex between a mother and a daughter that seemed so right and natural, if wonderfully diabolical, as well. “You’re right. You two should...uh...get together…”

“Then you’ll want to lure us, as a mother with her daughter, into a romantic and sexual relationship with each other. That would be very depraved, but very hot, too. Right?”

“Y-yes, M-Mom.”

“That’s very good,” Traci responded with wicked delight. “However, there’s something I need you to do for me before we can start the festivities. Follow me, Claire.”

Claire did as she was told and followed the stunning blonde-haired milf to wherever she was taking her. Her conscious personality was subdued while under the influence of the command trigger. Claire allowed her eyes to roam over the shapely curves of Traci’s alluring figure and then zeroed in on the swaying ass that was in front of her, a lecherous grin appearing on her face as her thoughts ran rampant with lewd imagined acts.

Traci led Claire to her car and commanded the coed to take off her jeans and panties and to prop herself against the hood of her car. Claire did as she was told, obediently undoing the belt, buttons, and zipper that held her jeans up and then slid them down her smooth thighs, past her knees, and down to her ankles. She then repeated the same process with the green panties she was wearing. Although entranced, she knew she was exposing her pussy to Traci, which caused it to tingle delightfully. In a buried part of her mind, she was thrilled to be at this level of intimacy, finally, as it seemed, with this sexy blonde.

Next, Claire slowly turned around to face the hood of the car and bent over forward as she braced her arms against it. In doing so, she presented her ass, giving Traci a marvelous view of her gorgeous butt, so smooth and firm looking. Traci couldn’t resist it, and with a devil-may-care attitude she grabbed ahold of the exquisite-looking rump and gave it a good squeeze.

Claire relished both the lascivious physical contact and the obscene display she was presenting, letting out a guttural moan and reciprocating by spreading her legs a little more and thrusting her butt out even more, obviously trying to get more of it into Traci’s hands and seeking to show off her private parts better to Traci. It was taking every ounce of will that Traci had to resist the urge to ravish the body in front of her, being tempted severely by the glistening outer lips of Claire’s aroused pussy. If Traci had had the approval to do so, she would have bent this blacked-haired vixen over the hood of her car with no delay and no second thought, and eaten her pussy out six ways to Sunday until she had the girl singing the praises of lesbian love and desire. However, she had to hold back, at least until later in the day. Regina had to first make sure that Claire was progressing in certain ways in her conditioning, and Traci jumping into hard-core sex with Claire at this point would not be deemed the most prudent course of action to take.

Placing her palm on Claire’s back, Traci gently pushed the ravishing young coed’s torso down further until she was bent fully over the hood of her car. Then squatting down, Traci rested her handbag on the cement floor and began to fish through it. In short order, she extracted a sanitizing wipe, cleaned an area on Claire’s left buttcheek, took out a small hypodermic syringe filled with a sinister-looking green liquid, popped off the cap, carefully stabbed Claire in her buttcheek, and injected the evil contents of the syringe into the entranced lass.

The green liquid was another chemical cocktail that would further push Claire along the path that Hecate deemed that of her destiny. Like other drugs that had been pumped into her body on previous occasions, this one would make Claire’s mind pliant to suggestions and instructions, open to new concepts, values, and desires, and accepting of Hecate’s brainwashing. However, this drug came with an added bonus. It altered Claire’s brain chemistry so that she would act on her impulses, or, more specifically, on the lesbian impulses planted in her mind, emotions, and body, so that over the next several hours any form of moral reservation, conscious objections, or miss goody-goody attitude would not interfere with what Traci had planned for Claire.

Claire let out a small hiss of discomfort as she felt the needle jab her in her rear, but settled down as she felt a pair of soft, gentle, lipstick-slick lips on the area where the needle had penetrated her, planting a soothing kiss on it, just like a mother would do to help ease away the pain and ache of a child’s wound. Claire perceived it exactly like that...she was the daughter in need, and Traci her sexy, desirable mother was bestowing erotic comfort with her lips.

“There, there, all better now. That’s my big girl.”

“Thank...thank you...Mom…” Claire’s voice was quiet, soft, and girlish.

“Of course… Anything for you, my pretty daughter. Now, there’s a few more things I need you to do and then we’ll be all set, sweetie. Okay...I need you to get back up and take off all your clothes. Everything this time. Think you can do that for me, my dear?” Traci said in a condescending tone as she arose. Once up, Traci gave a playful pat on Claire’s exposed ass.

Claire again did as she was told, following the instructions without objection or hesitation. She untied her sneakers and kicked them aside, rolled down her socks and peeled them off, discarded her pants and panties that were around her ankles, rolled her pastel blue polo blouse off her body, fumbled with the clasp on her emerald green bra, and cast it on the parking lot floor. When she finished, Claire stood at full attention with her hands by her sides, exposing her naked body to Traci as she obediently awaited Traci’s next set of orders.

Traci let out a low wolf whistle as she ogled Claire’s nubile naked body. A lecherous grin formed on her face at the thoughts of all the lewd sexual acts that she and her daughter would be performing on their helpless victim. Like a fine wine connoisseur, Traci savored the sight of Claire’s luscious tits...so big...so firm...just waiting for Traci to get her hands all over them...

Then Traci’s gaze honed in on Claire’s mons, with a patch of neatly trimmed black pubic hair covering it. Leaning in, Traci seductively skated her index finger through Claire’s well-kept bush, which in turn caused the coed to shiver with delight and pleasure.

“Well, well, this isn’t going to do. I know for a fact that Regina likes her pussy smooth and bald...and your pussy belongs to her.” That information sent another erotic tremor through the beautiful coed. “And to me, too,” whispered Traci, who drew very close to Claire’s ear and gave it a gentle, seductive lick. “We’ll definitely have to take care of this when we get to my home.”

Feeling Traci so close, and feeling her wet tongue on her ear, and hearing Regina’s name again caused Claire’s heart to skip a beat, her nipples to stiffen into hard peaks, and her pussy to throb with lust and desire, similar to her response on hearing Regina’s name a minute before. Traci, observing the younger woman’s breathing accelerate and the hardening of her nipples, teased the lovely coed. “Ooo, Claire… you have a thing for Regina, don’t you? She turns you on very much, hmmm?”

“...yes…Mom...”

“Tell me how you feel about her?”

“....I...I want her…”

“Sexually?”

“Yes……. I...I think...I think I...that I might be...in...in love..with her…”

“Could you possibly be straight if you feel like that about a woman, sweet Claire?”

“...I...I guess...no…”

“Women who are in love with women are lesbians, Claire. You’re a lesbian.. Do you feel like that about me, too, darling?”

“………...yes……….I do, Traci……...very much…….”

“What do you love about me most?”

Claire answered without hesitation. “Your big tits...and your blondeness.”

“Ah, yes...blondeness… You know, Claire, you could be a blonde, too. You already have the big tits. Then you and I would be just the same...like mother and daughter. One of the nice things about being blonde is that there are so many different shades to try...honey, like me right now...golden...champagne...sunny...wheat...pearl...ash...rose gold...platinum, like I was when we first met...silver...white...anything you like. Try one...then another...and another… You should think about which shade you want to try first. But in any case, once you’re a blonde...you’re a babe…”

Claire did not say anything in response, but she was listening intently. It was all sinking in deeply, the suggestions shaping Claire’s self-image, desires, and future.


“And, in your case, once you take that step, it would be a commitment to lesbianism. You would be a complete lesbian. Dyed in the wool, so to speak. Irreversibly. Perfected by blondness. A beautiful blonde lesbian eager and ready for pussy play. But I think you’re ready for that even now, too, aren’t you? You really want a beautiful woman to play with your pussy...like I am doing now, don’t you, Claire, sweetheart? Do you like me playing with your pussy?”

“Mmmmmm...yessss…”

“A woman who lets another woman play with her pussy, and likes it, is a lesbian, honey. You could even say she is a slut. Claire, you’re a lesbian...a lesbian slut...aren’t you?”

“..................yes………….”

Traci continued to trace her finger over Claire’s bush, where every now and then it would briefly graze Claire’s excited clit. This was as far, however, as she was allowed to go, and all the immobilized Claire could do was just moan as Traci continued to tease her body, convincing her she was a lesbian and a slut, making her lust climb, bringing it close to the edge, only to retreat a little just before it boiled over.

“You’re a dirty slut…”

“Ohhh...yessss…”

“...a lesbian slut…”

“...yes…”

“...my slut…”

“...your slut…”

“...Traci’s girlfriend…”

“...your girlfriend…”

“...Traci’s hot little slutty lesbian girlfriend…”

“...Traci’s hot, slutty lesbian girlfriend …”

“...Mommy’s slut…”

“...my Mommy’s sexy slut-girlfriend…”

“Yesss… That’s right, my darling. You think like a slut...you feel like a slut...soon you’re going to be acting like a slut...now you want to look like a slut...don’t you? You want to experiment with a new, slutty look…” Traci knew she was reinforcing a suggestion Regina re-planted into Claire’s head this morning on the phone.

Traci finished off fingering Claire’s pussy with a flourish. “Oh! Oooo! Yes, *gasp*, Mom…”

“Now, Claire, be a good girl and just wait here while I get a few things.”

Claire just nodded her head in response.

Pulling out her car key fob from her purse, Traci pressed down on a button and a few seconds later the trunk to her car popped open. Walking over, Traci pulled out three pink shopping bags with the word “Exclusive” written in elegant shiny gold cursive font. There were two more bags for another time, which she left in the trunk.

Setting the bags down in front of Claire, Traci then bent down to pick one up and handed it over to the entranced black-haired beauty.

“I’m going to hand you some bags now. I need you to put on what’s inside. No questions asked. Got it?” There was a touch of menace in Traci’s voice as she issued the last command.

Still under the strong influence of her post-hypnotic trigger, Claire just nodded her head in agreement, completely oblivious to her surroundings. The only thing going through her mind was to obey Traci to the best of her ability.

In the first bag was a bright green strapless low-cut-style bralette and matching thong panty set. Fascinated with the miniscule satin items, she first slid on the little bralette, which struggled to contain her large breasts, and only barely did so. She had never put on a bra in the presence of a woman who was watching her, that she could think of, particularly in front of a woman for whom she felt such attraction, especially a bra as skimpy as this one, but doing so struck her, even in her entranced state, as a thrillingly erotic thing to do. As she finished by fastening the back strap, she looked at Traci directly and thrust her bosom out in a natural tease. The effects of the garment were noticed by both women as soon as Claire had it on, the way that the bralette barely covered yet cradled and lifted Claire’s luscious breasts and gave them an alluring irresistible perkiness. Looking down, she saw, with glee, the way her nipples pressed bullet-like through the thin, silky, slinky material.

Then Claire began to slip into the thong, stepping into the leg openings one after the other, and sliding it up her long, sexy legs. It didn’t take long for Claire to put on the scandalous panties and to see how very little they hid. Like the bralette, they were unlike any panties she had ever worn before. The crotch portion was a little strap or pouch which barely covered her pussy lips. The rest of the panties consisted of strings, one running between her legs up the crack of her ass, and conjoined with the other strings wrapped around Claire’s elegant hips. She relished the feeling of the smooth satin against her pussy and the string portion of the thong in her ass, as well as the satin embracing her breasts.

“Now give me a slow twirl, sweetie.” Traci said as she gestured a spinning motion with her right hand.

Claire did as Traci commanded, gracefully extending her hands out a bit and performing a slow twirl. As she did this, Traci had her smartphone out and recorded the entranced coed doing a twirl for the camera, showing off her sexy body for the camera.

After her entranced companion completed a few playful rotations, Traci handed Claire the second bag and, just like before, issued a command to put its contents on. This particular bag contained, among other things, packages of various pantyhose. Claire reached in and pulled out a package that contained a pair that was flesh-toned in color and decided on it.

It took a bit of effort, but, propping herself against Traci’s car, Claire carefully and gently slid the pantyhose up her sexy legs, admiring the nice sheen that it gave them and wondering why she had not been into nylons before.

This process was repeated until Claire had on all the clothes that were prepared for her. In the end she had on a tight black leather mini skirt that stopped about seven inches above her knees and did a great job of showcasing her marvelous hips, teasing her wonderful ass, and showing off her long, smooth legs. For her top, Claire had on an emerald green tube top of shiny metallic spandex, the top half of which had a frilly trim, the whole calling attention to Claire’s bountiful breasts and the bottom exposing her smooth, flat stomach. Claire’s feet were in glossy dark purple knee-high boots with buckled straps running up their length and with thick 4-inch heels. She had on earrings composed of three hanging rubies on a single silver chain, and around her neck was a black leather choker with a ruby-centered clasp.

“There you go. You look so much better...but there’s just one more thing, and then I think you’ll be all set, my dear.”

Reaching into the last pink bag, the largest one, Traci pulled out a large pink cosmetics case with polished gold trim adorning it.

“Here we go! A very nice gift from Regina to you, darling.”

“F-f-from Regina?”

“Yes, she thinks that you’ve been doing such a great job with your modules that a good girl like you deserves a nice treat. After all, who do you think paid for all this?” Traci asked as she gestured towards the sexy clothing Claire had on. “Consider it a token of Regina’s love for you, sweetheart.”

Claire again blushed at the mention of her crush’s name. The very mention of the dreamy brown-and-gold-haired woman, plus the comments that all these gifts were from Regina, showing yet again how much Regina cared about her, and also about her appearance, and the reassurance that the beautiful woman did, in fact, love her, caused her body to shiver with delight. She could feel her pussy throb with need and desire.

“She does love you, you know. Very much. Just like you love her. Do you love me, too, Claire? Tell me one more time...”

“Oh, yes, Traci!………. Mom………. I do… I do love you…”

“I like hearing that, my darling Claire. You can tell me that any time…and you can show me, too...any way you’d like to… And you should… You need to let me know how hot you are for me…

“Well, we’re almost done, Claire. I think you know what to do with this,” Traci stated as she handed the large cosmetics case to Claire. Taking it from Traci, Claire set the cosmetics case on the hood of Traci’s car. Opening it, she was taken aback by the splendor of the myriad cosmetic products she beheld in front of her and which now belonged to her.

The top of the case being pulled up revealed multi-tiered trays with a small lit-up mirror which flipped up automatically in the center of the top-most tray. There were drawers and compartments built into the spacious box, as well. Another tray slid out from the bottom of the case. Claire saw a large variety of nail polish and lipstick, an assortment of blush and foundation, and a sizable collection of eyeshadow and eyeliner. As she surveyed her new acquisition of cosmetics in their variety of types and colors, and realized what potential for beauty and seductive allure they promised--artificial, non-natural, enhanced, sexy beauty, beauty so much unlike the kind Mary, her now-discredited birth mother, advocated, but so in keeping with the example and urgings of her beloved new ideal and mother, Regina--a surge of arousal pulsed between her legs.

Otherwise not sure why, she was keen on using them right now. Claire understood internally what she had to do. Reaching into one of the compartments, Claire pulled out a few clean wipes, opened them and began to scrub her face clean. Looking into the small mirror and feeling confident, she managed to clean off all the makeup from the morning off her face.

Next she took a deeper look at the makeup inside the case and sorted through it to make a selection. She settled on a light blue-green eyeshadow and painted it on her eyelids. After that she took out a pitch-black eyeliner and carefully traced close to the edge of her eyelids, then pulled out a mascara wand and applied it until her eyelashes had the thick, voluminous, deeply black curls she desired.

She selected a tube of vibrant moss-green lipstick and began to apply it on her luscious lips, looking into the small mirror inside the large cosmetics case. Claire took count that she applied three coats of lipstick on her lush lips. Though very pleased with the effect, something deep in her mind subsequently urged her that three coats wasn’t enough, and so she painted an additional three more coats onto what was becoming a pair of extremely kissable lips, as they now were striking her. When she finished, she pressed her lips together and then blew a lusty kiss at her sexy reflection.

Just then, Claire remembered something mentioned by a professor in a history class the previous semester. As he was speculating on whether nuclear weapons would be used at some point in the future, he pointed out that seldom in human history have nations built weapons but never used them, that weapons were made to be used and, generally, eventually were used, indeed. It came to the entranced Claire that her heavily painted lips were weapons, too, weapons made to be used. Now that her lips were armed with numerous layers of luscious, inviting, sexy, powerful green lipstick, she felt ready to attack.

After brushing peach-colored blush on her cheeks, Claire then reached for some nail polish remover, intending to remove her current emerald green nail polish and to paint on a new color to match her lips, when Traci grabbed her hand. “We’re a bit pressed for time, my dear. Maybe later in the day, but your fingernails are already quite beautiful and fit in to your look well enough, so right now I think we’re done.”

Claire was a bit annoyed by the interruption. Didn’t Traci know that in order for her to look her best, she had to maximize the usage of the cosmetics she had available? Her eyes narrowed a bit, signaling defiance, seeing which Traci stared Claire sternly in the eyes. But before the pretty coed could do or say anything, the mental triggers planted in her mind reminded her who was in charge. So Claire complied and placed the container of nail polish remover back into the tray from which she had pulled it.

“That’s right, my dear. Don’t forget that when Regina’s not around, I’m in charge. Best not forget that piece of advice, sweetie,” Traci advised in a mocking manner as she condescendingly patted Claire on her right cheek, like a mother patronizing a petulant child. That, indeed, was the way Claire took it, too--as if she were Traci’s daughter, and her beautiful, exciting mother was setting her in her place, rightfully so.

Traci packed up the cosmetics case and placed it in the backseat of her car. Turning back, she faced Claire and was amazed at the sight of the gorgeous vixen who stood before her. In essence, Claire looked like a high-class pornstar on her way to film a porno. Anyone who had known Claire previously wouldn’t have been able to recognize her and, if they had been told that this tantalizing young vixen was the virtuous and morally pious Claire Love-Livingston whom they knew, they would have scoffed at such a ridiculous notion. The Claire they knew wouldn’t dare dream of dressing up as some harlot. Claire herself would scarcely be able to find, in this sexy image, the old, natural, conservative young woman she had thought of herself as being before meeting Regina and Traci--which was, of course, one of Hecate’s main objectives. However, if that were the case, just at the outset of this weekend, then Claire would have no chance whatsoever of finding her previous tame, straight, good-girl self in the mirror, or feeling like her, by the time this weekend was over, if Hecate’s agenda proceeded as planned.

“Alright, Claire, honey, we best get on our way,” Traci urged as she picked up the emptied pink bags. “There’s a good deal of fun that me and my daughter have planned for you!”

Claire started to pick up her discarded clothing and shoes when Traci interrupted her.

“You won’t be needing them where we are going. Well, maybe except for the bra and panties that you were wearing. Here, put your underwear in this bag,” she directed as she held one of the pink bags open. Claire did as she was told, picking up the fetching green bra and panties she had on earlier and placing them in the shopping bag. “And the rest of your stuff in this other bag,” which Claire took and complied complacently. “That stuff we might just be throwing away. We’ll see. We’ll store those two bags in the trunk.” Traci and Claire each deposited the bag she held into the trunk, along with the extra, now-empty third bag, whereupon Traci closed it. “Just leave your purse and overnight bag in the back seat.”

Traci opened the passenger side door and gestured for her to get in. “Now you get in, my dear,” Traci instructed in a condescending tone as she held the door open for Claire, who complied without hesitation. As Claire passed Traci by, she felt the blonde give a playful swat on her leather-covered ass, which sent pleasurable tingles up her spine. Claire turned and gave Traci a playful smile, indicating that she was receptive to what Traci did.

After sliding into the passenger seat and putting on her seatbelt, the black-haired girl patiently waited, staring off in the distance, as Traci got in the driver’s side, fastened her seat belt, and pressed the ignition start button in her car.

“Alright, my sweet pretty, can you repeat to me the goals that have been set for you today?”

“I-I n-need to seduce you and your daughter into having lesbian sex with me and each other.”

“That's right. And so succinct! Such a good girl,” Traci praised as she playfully poked Claire on her cute nose. “Oops, silly me. I forgot one more thing. I’m sure that when I bring back your prudish, boring persona that you’ll be questioning why you’re dressed so differently. So I need you to remember that before I took you to my house, we stopped by a nice fashion boutique and that I treated you to a little shopping spree, and they re-did your makeup, too. Regina footed the bill. You told me you wanted to experiment with your look--that you wanted to slut it up a bit--and I let you select what you wanted. You insisted on wearing some of your new purchases out the door. Understand?” Claire just nodded her head in agreement to the fabricated excuse of why her appearance dramatically changed from before. “Alright, now that I have you in the right mindset, let us be off for a wild night of fun!” Traci pulled out of her parking spot, exited the underground parking garage, and drove off towards her home.

Back in the present …

As Claire regained her focus, she noticed that she was still in Traci’s sedan, but that it had stopped. Apparently they had pulled into someone’s driveway, most likely Traci’s.

As Claire looked around, she caught her reflection briefly in the rearview mirror. Turning the mirror toward her, she was captivated by what she saw. Staring back at her was not the prudish, style-less young woman who shunned embellishment and dressed in dowdy attire, but rather someone who looked…ravishing...an alluring creature who was oozing sexual promiscuity. Wow! I look smoking hot! I can’t believe that this is me. I can’t believe that I look this good with makeup, Claire thought to herself, enamored with her appealing reflection. I can never go back.

Claire then looked down and noticed her change of attire. For the briefest of moments, her sudden change in clothes took her by surprise. Claire then “remembered” that before arriving at Traci’s house, Traci had told her that Regina had set up a reward for her and the blonde woman had consequently taken her to an upscale women’s fashion boutique, where Regina, through Traci, had paid for the whole thing on her own dime. Claire had quickly settled down into her new look, “recalling” that, while Traci had given her guidance, opinion, and approval on all of the purchases, she, Claire, had been the one to actually choose what she wanted. All of her purchases had reflected her desire to experiment with a sexier, more provocative look.

Other than that aspect, her memories were hazy. She couldn’t really recall with whom it was she spoke at the boutique, what exactly occurred, and what she did there. The one thing she thought she remembered, now that she thought about it, was that Traci accompanied her into the changing room, where they both stripped to nakedness, as Claire had to try on lingerie and Traci wanted to model Claire’s possible selections for her, so that Claire could see how the items would look on another woman, and particularly on a blonde, as Claire’s destiny was to become a blonde. Claire was fairly certain there had been touches, caresses, groping, and other physical contact and flirtation between them in that room, although exactly what happened was difficult to recall. Her impression, however, was that whatever had happened between them had been something that might happen commonly when two women, two alluring women, shop together and that it was something that had made a very enjoyable shopping experience all the more fun.

But something told Claire that the details of her shopping spree were relatively trivial, and that the lapses in her memory could easily be attributed to the excitement she had felt in being alone with Traci in an intimate setting and in trying on and purchasing clothing that befitted, as far as she was concerned, a beautiful, sexy young woman like herself. Finally.

“Shall we go in? I’m sure that a certain teenage daughter is just dying to meet you,” Traci invited with glee.

“Absolutely,” Claire said in a distracted tone, as she was focusing on admiring her own beauty in the rearview mirror reflection. To the degree that Traci’s reminder that Claire’s first encounter with Traci’s hot daughter was imminent pierced through her narcissistic self-absorption, Claire’s pussy responded with a wet, electric excitement. Claire mumbled back, “I am dying to meet her, too,” truly meaning it more than she was outwardly expressing it.

After both women got out of the car, when Claire closed her door, she caught a better reflection of her gorgeous self in the reflective passenger side window. Enraptured by her stunning looks, she couldn’t help but give her reflection a wicked grin. Feeling playful, Claire cupped her large breasts in her hands, relishing their creamy curves and weight, and pressed them together slightly, exaggerating her already-intoxicating cleavage. She marveled at their magnificence and exulted in the degree of their exposure, a new pleasure for the previously modest lass.

“Claire… Hello, Claire? Excuse me …” interjected Traci, interrupting Claire’s admiration of her physical assets. Claire snapped back to reality as Traci’s voice intruded into her self-admiration session, an expression of annoyance clearly visible on her face as she glared back at the blonde vixen calling out her name.

“Yesss, Traci?” The annoyance in her voice was unmistakable. “What can I help you with?”

Part of Traci felt like putting the cheeky Claire in her place again--insolence being an entirely new behavior for the previously ever-affable and polite young woman, and one created within the girl entirely by Hecate’s brainwashing--but Claire was no longer under entrancement as she had been when Traci had previously reprimanded her and Traci wanted Claire meeting Natasha to be a sweet and treasured experience for the black-haired beauty, one void of negative feelings, so she resorted to an indulgent, charming, inviting, maternal demeanor, masking her own annoyance with Claire’s new vain and saucy attitude. “Come on, sweetheart. I don’t blame you for wanting to look at yourself, you are so very beautiful, but you can do more of that later. We don’t want to keep Natasha waiting, do we?” Traci coaxed pleasantly and held out a hand.

After a second of hesitation, clarity crossed Claire’s face, it appeared, and she smiled affectionately at her date. “No, you’re right, Traci, of course,” Claire gushed, suddenly giddy at the prospect of finally meeting the sexy brunette teen beauty she had seen in some photos and who had been on her mind ever since. “I can’t wait one moment longer!” She took the proffered hand in hers, and the two walked away from the car up the driveway, hand in hand, as two women on a date, until they arrived at the flower-lined walkway to the house, which was wide enough for just one person at a time. When they let go of each other’s hand, it occurred to Claire that that was the first time she had held another woman’s hand that she could remember, especially in a romantic setting, particularly that of an exciting mature woman almost her mother’s age, and she resolved that that would not be the last time that she and the delicious blonde woman would do so.

Traci took the lead up the walkway, as she led the buxom black-haired vixen towards the front entrance of her house. Claire’s gaze focused on the blonde milf’s delectable rear, the mesmerizing ass shifting and swaying as she walked down the brick-paved walkway towards her front entrance. Lecherous feelings tiptoed around Claire’s mind as she marveled at Traci’s ass.

Wow… What a butt! No...I mean, what an ass! That’s the right word for what she has.. What a sexy ass she has! I can’t believe that I’m going to be spending the weekend with that sexy ass...along with the hottie that it belongs to. What a fuckin’, hot cunt she is! Wonder what kind of beautiful ass Traci’s daughter, Natasha, has...

Just got to remember Regina’s assignment. I need to seduce both of them into having lesbian sex with me… and with each other... Don’t know how I’m going to do it… I don’t even know exactly what that means…”lesbian sex”... The only time I’ve even seen it was in that DVD Jessica and I watched yesterday… But, wow...that was awesome… If Regina means something like that...well...at least I’ve seen it... I’m sure I can come up with something, Claire thought to herself as she followed Traci’s heavenly rear.

Just before they arrived at the door, Claire’s fading good-girl side made an attempt to warn her that danger lay on the other side of that door. Wait… What am I DOING?! I...I don’t date WOMEN! Traci was kind enough to invite me over for a break from school and roommates...not that I want a break from them...and to let me be part of her home...and here I am intending to...to corrupt them! I’m not interested in doing that. And I’m NOT a lesbian. I don’t want to pretend to be one. That’s not me. That’s dishonest...and what I’m thinking of doing with them is immoral… What’s wrong with me, even thinking about doing this?! And...what will happen to me if I go along with this?... What kind of girl will I become?... I...I should just excuse myself and go home… I could get an Uber ride...

Then Claire’s evolving wild-girl side countered, her new brainwashed-in views and desires pushing to the fore and elbowing aside her other sentiments. Although...I don’t really plan on hurting them… Bringing them together might well make them...very happy… If they love each other more...if I can help make that happen…love is always good…especially mother-daughter love… Mothers and daughters should love each other...and be ...intimate… That is the best way to express their feelings for each other...their love...is through a little bit of...sex… I can help them… …..And it won’t hurt me to get some hands-on experience with women, either… I have to, to make Regina and Ms. Powers happy with me… I have to do it to keep my financial backing… I don’t want to disappoint Regina, for sure… What a wonderful woman… What a great mother… I want her to be proud of me…

I could do just this one weekend and then...and then return to my normal life...my normal self… I don’t have to go too far… I don’t have to violate my principles...well… maybe a little...but I don’t have to get carried away… I can do what Regina wants me to do and then...then it would be done…….

Traci is so beautiful...so blonde...and her body is so...very...hot… I do want to get to know her...much, much better….intimately.... If I left now...if I ditched her...I would never know what it would be like...to be close to her...to kiss her...to feel her body in my hands… I’d never want to lose her...to not have her in my life… I can’t even imagine that… I’ve only known her such a short time...but I’m so attracted to her… My feelings for her are so...strong... Could it be...could I be in love with her? And does she feel like that...about me? I’ll never find out if I...if I back out now…

And, besides……….doing sexual things with a woman...and with a teen girl...and seeing them together...giving in...showing how they really feel about each other... how they want each other……… I am……...curious……………….

Okay. I’m staying.

Upon opening the door, Traci announced her arrival, calling out to her daughter. Within seconds, there was a blur of fast movement, then Claire saw Traci struggling to keep her balance, being nearly overwhelmed by an exuberant, squealing, young teenage girl, who quickly had her arms and legs wrapped around the voluptuous older women in an embrace that most would not consider appropriate between a mother and her daughter.

“Mom!” the teen gushed with giddy glee. “I’ve missed you sooo much!” The girl tried to grind her groin against her mother’s body, subtly but not so much that what she was doing was hidden from Claire. “Mom, I love you soooo much!!” With that, the teen kissed her mother quickly but passionately on the lips.

“Goodness, gracious! Natasha what has gotten into you? So full of all this energy!” exclaimed Traci, trying to feign surprise over her daughter’s outburst. “Excuse us, Claire, dear, but we do have a special love for each other.”

However, this was all an act that both mother and daughter had planned, intended to tease Claire towards initiating and participating in some fun girl-on-girl lesbian action. Traci had anticipated this zealously amorous reception from her daughter, and she had it under control, although to the untrained eye, it looked like she was struggling. The way Traci had her hands clutching the globes of her daughter’s ass, the way Natasha had her legs wrapped around Traci’s waist, and that not-so-innocent kiss the young woman planted on her mother’s lips--all this to entice Claire further down the path of lesbianism.

And it was working. Claire couldn’t ignore the lust building within her as she observed both mother and daughter in an embrace of such erotic overtones that she could not ignore it. While their display with one another was not so blatant or overt that there was no doubt about a sapphic quality to their affection, there was enough innuendo in their actions to imply that there was more to their relationship than Traci had let on before this and than would be normal between most mothers and daughters.

As Claire was standing behind Traci, and averted her gaze part of the time out of modesty and consideration over what was obviously an intimate exchange, she did not have much of a view of the girl nor of some of the details of their interaction. But she could tell that the ardent teen sought out her mother’s lips a second time, and that Traci returned the kiss. She thought Traci opened her mouth to add tongue, while exploring and groping her daughter’s ass with her hands with liberty, and she heard slurping sounds, but she wasn’t sure about whether they were French-kissing or not.

Intellectually, Claire knew that the level and type of ardor being displayed in front of her was unusual for a mother and her daughter, especially them making out, and particularly if they were kissing with tongue, but her corrupted, perverted inner self now believed that mothers and daughters should express their love to each other physically, that that, between two females, especially two related females, was, in fact, the highest form of human love, and that sexuality between a mother and her daughter was the pinnacle of erotic excitement. Deep down, Claire wanted the two before her to be French-kissing, and hoped they were, and loved witnessing them making out and seeing Traci’s hands all over her daughter’s rear.

Letting them go on for a minute, Claire felt a little awkward just standing, kind of watching, and politely cleared her throat to remind them that she was present in the room with them.

Natasha gave her mother a sly wink as she disengaged herself from her mother’s roaming hands and lowered her feet to the floor. Traci stepped to the side, next to Claire, while Natasha turned to face the sexy raven-haired coed standing next to her mother.

Now that things had settled down a bit, Claire got a good look at Natasha, and what a wonderful view it was. The teen was wearing a short red-velvet-colored blouse that did a phenomenal job of showing off the young woman’s perky tits and her smooth, flat belly. Her curvy hips were encased in a very scandalous pair of very short, low-cut jean shorts that left nothing to the imagination, and also did an amazing job showing off her long, sexy legs.

As Claire’s gaze roamed over Natasha’s sexy teen body, it eventually stopped at her head--and Claire was left speechless. The young woman had a mesmerizing array of cosmetics skillfully applied to her face, her lips painted a frosted pink that made them look so vibrant and lively, tempting Claire to go over and give Natasha a passionate kiss, her eyelids covered in sapphire blue eyeshadow accented by dark eyeliner, her eyelashes thick and elegantly curled with careful applications of mascara. Two gold hoop earrings hung from her earlobes. But the most noticeable feature that drew Claire’s attention was Natasha’s hair.

The last picture of the teenage girl that Claire had seen had the scrumptious teen sporting chocolate-colored hair that flowed down her head in alluring waves. Now Natasha stood before Claire with her hair colored a vibrant golden blonde that enticed Claire even more...much more, in fact. Natasha’s choice in her new hair coloring was very reminiscent to Claire of Wendy’s natural honey-blonde hair color. Of course, this was intentional, as both Traci and Natasha had every intent to “let” Claire seduce them and they knew her mind was specifically programmed to lust after blonde women in general, and for her blonde mother and sister in particular. Now here she was for the weekend, with an alluring blonde mother figure, who could be Mary, and a sexy teen who looked so much like her blonde sister.

“Hi! You must be Claire!” Natasha greeted in a cheerful tone, zeroing in on her black-haired guest. “Mom told me alot about you,” the blonde girl gushed as she walked up to the coed.

“She said you were beautiful...but she didn’t do you justice.” Claire blushed at the compliment, pleased that the pretty teen found her attractive. Natasha dropped her eyes, letting them play frankly on Claire’s breasts. “Wow! What a pair!” Claire’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Natasha! That’s a little too much. Remember...she’s our guest…”

“Well, then...welcome!!”

After gazing into Claire’s eyes with a sweet smile for a tantalizing second, Natasha suddenly threw her arms around her, giggling. Claire, pleased with the girl’s seemingly spontaneous glee and affection, assumed she was getting a simple, friendly hug, but Natasha, being amazed by the size of Claire’s breasts, wanting a feel of some kind, and feeling unable to wait for a later opportunity, snuggled her head into them, while letting out a contented sigh of joy.

Claire herself let out a soft, contented purr as she felt Natasha’s young body press up against hers, taking deep, slow breaths and savoring the sweet, flowery candy-scented perfume the young girl had on. Her heartbeat quickened as she enjoyed the feeling of Natasha’s body against hers. Her body was aroused by the seemingly innocent gesture.

Not wanting to make their embrace awkward, Claire disengaged herself from the high school teen, although reluctantly.

“Hello! My, aren’t we full of energy! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Claire, and you must be Natasha. Wow, you look amazing.!” Claire gushed, unable to help herself. The girl was so beautiful, so alluring, and so darn fuckably sexy. Claire tried to regain some composure and start a conversation with the fetching teen who was standing in front of her. Instead, all she found herself capable of doing was playfully twirling her long black hair around her right-index finger and giving the hottie a very friendly smile.

Natasha responded by giving Claire a charming smile of her own and playfully waving her fingers back at Claire, which in turn caused Claire to blush for a bit more. She had never been much of a flirt, nor had she been very demonstrative in her affection, even within her own family, where hugs and touches were not an everyday occurance, as per the pattern set forth by her reserved parents.. Even when she had been dating Darren, the extent of their tame romantic fun hadn’t usually gone much further than some cute notes passed between them or a quick peck on the cheek. But recalling even that much--with a boy--made her want to gag. Yuk!

Thinking of Darren made Claire scoff at how foolish she had been, at how she had wasted a good chunk of her young life spending her time with him--a stupid, worthless boy. That had been a dead-end relationship from the beginning, she now perceived. It was never going to go anywhere. With that time, she instead could have read some good books, or learned to play a musical instrument, or...or, better, learned about makeup, current fashions, and popular culture and celebrities...all the kinds of stuff that Mary was never going to teach her. Maybe, even, she could have got herself a nice...girlfriend.

Anyway, fortunately, she had gotten rid of him. She felt great relief in having done that. Now that she was no longer attached, especially to a clunky boy, Claire felt a sense of liberation that she had not felt since...well...since when she had started dating him. She sensed that her life was going to be better from this point on...especially now that she was with Traci and her beautiful daughter...now that she was dating Traci... Nevertheless, this particular social situation was new to her, and she felt a bit awkward with the ravishing mother daughter duo standing before her. All she could think about was how alluring they were. How was she going to carry on a conversation with them?

“Sooooooo …. “ Claire said uneasily as she twidelled with thumbs together trying to stall for time to try to figure something to say to Traci and Natasha.

However, Claire found out that her worry was needless, as Natasha broke the awkward silence. “Hey, I made some mimosa and left it chilling in the fridge,” she said with a joyful smile.

“Natasha Elizabeth Hartwood! You know better than that, young lady!” Traci reproved guilfully, as she turned to face her daughter, feigning shock and disappointment that her under-age daughter had made an alcoholic drink. The truth was that ever since their conversion into lesbianism, both Traci and Natasha had adopted very lax, liberal views on several practices, including smoking and drinking, which contrasted starkly with the traditional and religious beliefs and habits they had had prior to meeting Regina. Now, both mother and daughter smoked and drank as they wished. A cigarette and a beer, a glass of chardonnay, or a cocktail was a quite common enjoyment for them now, especially before and/or after a vigorous round of lesbian sex with each other.

Natasha turned to face her mother and give her a sad, puppy-dog look in response and then turned to Claire for support. She looked so cute that Claire felt she had to intercede on the teen’s behalf.

“I don’t mean to interfere with your parenting, Traci, but you really can’t blame Natasha. I think she was only trying to offer some hospitality to her guest. I’m sure Natasha had no intent of consuming an alcoholic beverage herself. It was just a thoughtful offer.” Claire gave Natasha a quick wink of her eye and an assuring smile.

Traci just stood there in silence, acting as if she were mulling over Claire’s plea on behalf of her daughter, to help her get out of trouble. In the meantime, Natasha and Claire smiled at each other. Natasha appeared to be pleased with Claire’s intervention, and, when her mother wasn’t looking, winked back at Claire, as if to communicate her gratitude and to express that she saw in her a new friend and a secret, naughty connection to her, and was delighted by it.

Finally Traci let out a huff of air and relented. “I guess you’re right, Claire. Natasha was only trying to be a gracious hostess and I really can’t blame her for that. But don’t let me catch you drinking that stuff, young missy. Understand?”

“I promise, Mom.”

With the faux tension resolved, a serene silence began to work its way into the atmosphere in the room. Claire’s eyes returned to the physical charms of Traci and Natasha, her gaze roaming all over the curvaceous bodies of both mother and daughter.

“You know, I’m sure we can all stand around and just stare at each other,” Traci chuckled, looking Claire in the eye with a subtly knowing gleam while stating the last phrase, making Claire wonder if Traci had caught her once again gawking at her curves, “and chit-chatting, but I’m sure that there are some things we can do that are a little more fun. Plus, it’s a bit stuffy in here. How about we head on out for a little dip in the swimming pool?” Traci suggested to the group.

“Yeah, that sounds like an awesome idea, Mom!” Natasha jubilantly jumped up and down with giddy joy, giving Claire an entrancing, titillating view of Natasha’s perky tits bouncing up and down.

The idea was very alluring to Claire, too, especially with the thought of seeing both mother and daughter in swimsuits, whether standard one-piece or, even better, bikinis. Then it dawned on her that she had failed to pack any swimwear. Now she remembered, she thought, that Traci had mentioned in passing that she had a pool. Duh… I should have thought about a swimsuit!

“Um… I-I… well...I would love to take you up on your offer, Traci, but…I didn’t bring any swimwear with me.”

“That’s okay…” Natasha responded, which brought a sense of relief to Claire. Either that meant that they wouldn’t go swimming, and she was off the hook for her neglect, or it meant that they had some extra swimwear in this house which she could borrow, and she found the prospect of wearing something one of these two hotties had worn to be somehow very appealing, in a kinky sense. But the next words completely caught Claire off guard. “We can go skinny-dipping!,” Natasha squealed with glee.

Without waiting for anyone to concur or to object, the teen girl began to disrobe in front of Claire. It happened so fast that Claire barely had any time to register the scandalous solution that Natasha presented to Claire’s situation. In a jiff, the young high-school-aged woman was naked and showing off the alluring curves of her youthful body to both women present in the room.

Natasha made a ta-da gesture with her arms and bared her naked self to Claire and Traci. It was a very exquisite sight to behold. Natasha’s breasts exuded youthful perkiness, looking firm and enticing. They were everything Claire had imagined that they would be, and more, and somewhat bigger, in fact, than she thought would be typical for most sixteen-year-old girls, Claire guessing them to be at least a large B-cup, if not a small C. Claire could see that the young women’s nipples were already stiff and jutting out--as if she were aroused, and the question passed through Claire’s mind whether the pretty teen had been aroused by her, Claire--seemingly tempting her to come over and suckle on them. Natasha’s areolae were the size of half dollars and an alluring shade of dark fleshy pink, further bewitching the black-haired visitor.

The Claire of a few weeks ago would have had enough sense of propriety and modesty to look away from a nude girl, particularly one in whose home she was a guest, and she had called upon what she had left of those qualities a few minutes before when Traci and Natasha kissed each other rather extensively upon Traci’s homecoming and she, Claire, had looked away somewhat, but this sight overpowered all of her remaining decorum. Instead, Claire’s gaze traveled further down the newly-blonde girl’s body, and she let out a very low wolf whistle when her eyes landed on Natasha’s hips and bum. Full, well-toned, and smooth, they seemed to indicate that the young woman most likely worked out to keep herself fit and healthy. They had the right shape and firmness to suggest that the high schooler would eventually develop into an even more sexually enticing vixen when she reached her full womanhood, which, combined with her sexy, developing bust, promised to earn her a good amount of lusty stares. But not from guys...please… What a waste that would be...

Not able to withhold any longer, Claire’s eyes settled on what she knew would be the prime treasure of this inviting young body--Natasha’s teen pussy. Claire was a bit taken aback as she noticed that the young woman kept her crotch bald and smooth. There was not a single sign of stubble or any other unsightly blemish. The skin of her mons and the tissue surrounding it looked perfectly hairless, sleek, and silky...as if it was enticing Claire to run her fingers over it.

Before Claire could stare too long, Natasha playfully turned and made her way out to the backyard pool, giving both Claire and her mother a gratifying view of her beautiful ass. The way her naked hips and buttcheeks shifted and swayed as she walked away was a mesmerizing view that lasted until Natasha disappeared into the backyard patio.

It took a good ten seconds for Claire to come back to her senses, when she realized that she, as a guest in someone’s home, had just most inappropriately stared at the naked body of her hostess’s young daughter, as if it were a piece of meat.

However, before Claire could say anything, Traci broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about that, Claire. Natasha… well, um… She can be quite energetic sometimes,” Traci offered apologetically, trying to excuse her daughter’s lewd behavior. Of course, as usual this was all an act for Claire’s benefit. Traci had no real qualms at all about her daughter exposing her sweet body to attractive female guests in her house or to check out that body herself, having not only seen her daughter’s naked body daily for the last few months, but also having had the pleasure of sexually exploring the vixen’s nubile body extensively over that time.

“T-that’s okay Traci. I can understand. I mean, I’m just nineteen, so, technically, I’m still a teenager, too. I can relate...I mean, to the energy part of it...”

“I appreciate that, dear.” Traci then let out a deep sigh. “Well, you know, I think that Natasha brought up a good point. Since you didn’t bring any swimwear, maybe a skinny-dip might be a viable solution.”

Traci suggesting that they strip naked resonated deeply with Claire. It was an opportunity her subconscious mind immediately latched onto. Voices whispering new values and new desires from that subconscious realm guided Claire: Girls should be naked with other girls. Nudity with another woman is okay. You want to show off your body to other sexy women. Take your clothes off, all of them, when with another beautiful woman. You want to be naked. Flaunt your breasts and your pussy. Make women want you. Strip and display your alluring body.

“Y-you do bring up a nice point…” Claire felt the desire to strip rip through her body, yet some opposition nevertheless also arose from the long-standing sense of modesty remaining within her. “But … “ Claire started to object nervously. Sensing her hesitation, Traci interrupted her, pretending not to have heard the “but”. It was time to obliterate Claire’s puritanical modesty.

“Well then, if you’re in agreement … as the old saying goes, ‘When in Rome...’,” Traci said with a mischievous tone, cutting Claire off before she could raise any further objections, while undoing the few buttons of her revealing blouse. The skimpy silk blouse slipped readily off Traci’s smooth shoulders and torso, confirming to Claire the fact--a much more obvious one than she had admitted to herself before, despite having ogled the blonde’s front again and again and having speculated countless times on whether Traci would really have gone braless today--that the blonde truly wore no bra underneath. Removing it completely with an equally naughty smile, the enticing and now topless mini-skirted woman dropped it on the hallway floor.

Claire's eyes went wide as she was granted a full, unobstructed, glorious view of the mature woman's very sizable breasts. Unrestrained, Traci’s exquisite pair of breasts were about the size of large melons and, just like the fruit, they looked sweet and very tantalizing. Her pointy nipples and wide areolas were dazzlingly large and deeply brown with a reddish shine, as if Traci had painted them with a rosy gloss--which she had--and projected straight ahead like missiles. Big, powerful missiles. Wondrous, amazing, mesmerizing missiles. Female missiles. Beautiful missiles.

An intense urge swept over Claire to walk up to the blonde and cup her hostess’s bountiful mammaries in her hands, already imagining the weighty feeling of the rotund female fruit in her hands. But she held back, as the remnants of her damaged and weakened conservative psyche told her such a liberty would be highly inappropriate. It was blatantly obvious, however, to both women in the room where Claire’s attention was focused. She couldn’t help herself. She simply could not take her eyes off Traci’s alluring breasts.

“It looks like someone likes what she sees,” Traci teased.

“Oh!... I...u-um... I-I’m...sorry… I didn’t mean to… I mean, I wasn’t…uh…” Claire's face flushed a bright shade of embarrassment for having leered at her beautiful hostess. She could only stutter, meekly grasping for some excuse for her lewd behavior.

“It’s okay, Claire. It’s only us girls here. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure what you’re seeing is nothing you haven’t seen before,” Traci said reassuringly, which did help soothe the sting of embarrassment that Claire was feeling at the moment. “Look all you want.” Traci ran her red-nailed hands over her breasts, erasing any ambiguity about what she meant. Standing there awkwardly, unable to stop openly gawking and not knowing what to say, Claire let twenty seconds pass in tense erotic silence.

But then Claire noticed Traci’s facial expression shift from motherly and concerned to stern and demanding, her eyes appearing cold as Claire locked onto them, sending a chill up her spine. The way Traci was looking at her was one of impatience, as if she was waiting for Claire to do something. Then it clicked. Natasha had offered the solution of skinny-dipping for Claire, who had forgotten to bring some swimwear; the teen had stripped, and Traci had started to follow suit by taking off her top, but the only thing Claire had done so far was just leer at Traci’s and Natasha’s body. Claire had thoughtlessly kept her hostess waiting.

Realizing what she had to do next, Claire took a big, calming breath to ready herself. She then took the bottom hem of her frilly tube top in her green-nailed hands and gently rolled it up over her breasts and off her body, dropping it on the floor as Traci had done. However, Claire was not done, as her ample breasts were still restrained by the sexy green bralette she was wearing. She found that she liked the bralette very much, but realized that she could have worn her top without a bra, as Traci had done. Next time maybe she would wear either just the tube top...or another revealing top...or the shiny little bralette by itself...but not both at the same time...

A few seconds later she had managed to unfasten the clasps that held the bralette to her chest and, again following Traci’s example, she cast her undergarment onto the floor and exposed her magnificent breasts to the mature woman standing in front of her. It was the first time she had ever removed her bra in front of another woman like this, especially a woman who was watching her expectantly and who was also topless, although, it dawned on her, she had almost done so in front of Jessica before bed the night before. Now that she had done it, it seemed so...so natural...like this kind of scenario was her destiny...and that she should have indulged in this kind of brazen act before now...

Claire knew her breasts were now exposed for everyone to see, which gave her an inexplicable thrill, but she thought that Traci was the only one getting in on the sight. Little did she know that there were hidden cameras placed all over Traci’s home, agents of Hecate observing every development there.

Claire looked down at herself, noting with pride the size and beauty or her breasts, and the fact that they were in the same class as Traci’s. Then she took note of the skirt she wore and looked at Traci’s, both identical, tight, mid-thigh, sexy, glossy-black leather miniskirts. The similarities between Traci and herself struck her--both topless, mini-skirted women in high heels, with eye-popping breasts. It was almost like a mother and her daughter...a lascivious, sexy, related duo...displaying themselves to each other...exactly like they should… One, the mother, a blonde and the other, the daughter, black-haired...the one, glaring difference...a difference which could be remedied...

Claire’s mind repeated implanted beliefs to her: Beautiful women should always want to be naked and show their bodies off to each other...especially mothers and daughters… Beautiful women should be naked with each other...and touch...and kiss… It is natural...and exciting… Show her your body… Display your breasts… Expose your pussy...

Claire took note of the approving stare that Traci was giving her, like a connoisseur admiring a fine piece of art. It sparked something within Claire, which she felt keenly. She knew that in the past what she was now doing would have made her ashamed, embarrassed, and alarmed. She was willingly stripping down naked in front of her hostess for the weekend and would most likely be showing off every nook and cranny of her body to both her and her daughter. She never would have even considered doing that but a few weeks in the past, not for one second...not before she met Regina...and she would have been utterly shocked to peek at herself here in the future...

But...Claire wasn’t feeling anything negative. If this was some kind of lapse in her moral judgement, she didn’t feel guilty about it. She thought that was a little odd, but it wasn’t worrisome to her. On the contrary, she felt exhilaration in finally flaunting her beautiful body, the way it now seemed she should do. And if she played her cards right, she could use her body to entice Traci and Natasha into an amorous venture into lesbian sex.

Lesbian. The word echoed in Claire’s mind. Throughout her life, she had never really given much thought to the word. It’s only meaning to her had been the one foisted on her by her parents, friends, teachers, and pastor, one connoting sin, misguided beliefs, depravity, and wayward, confused souls. It had only been recently--only since she had come to know the beautiful and motherly Regina Burke, her first lesbian friend--that Claire had begun to see the word for something else. Now the word “lesbian” had a delightful impression on her. It seemed to imply freedom, especially a liberation from a stifling, restrictive, moralistic ideology and archaic, puritanical practices, and offered her a new sense of self-discovery and magical, wide-open possibilities.

Lesbian. Claire pondered whether and to what degree that word might possibly apply to her personally. Was she a lesbian? She didn’t think she was. She had been straight all of her life, and had never even questioned that supposed fact until the last week or two...ever since meeting the marvellous lesbian, Regina Burke. Could one change so fast?

And yet...she had to admit that she had noticed that lately she had been feeling offish about guys...to the point that the notion of dating and becoming intimate with a man was starting to be a very foreign, unsettling, uncomfortable concept to her. In fact, that, along with the prospect of marrying a man, seemed at times now to be not only preposterous but outright nauseating, as well. She wondered where that new attitude came from. And would a straight girl feel like that?

And, thinking things over in her mind, why had she taken so readily to Regina’s advice to try to see things from a homosexual viewpoint and to be open to alternative sexual experiences? Sure, she had felt she had to agree to that to keep her collegiate financial aid, but why was she so happy about it and enjoying it so much? Everything that had occurred so far associated with her new outlook--trying on makeup, and doing that for girls, not for guys; watching lesbian porn with her best friend, Jessica, and loving it; starting a secret romantic relationship with Meredith, and coming to see other girls and women, including Jessica, Monica, Abby, and Traci as prime candidates to date, while having no guys on her social radar; generally finding herself eyeing up cute girls and curvy women, getting turned on by them, flirting with them, kissing some of them, as she had Meredith, Jessica, Traci, kind of, and even Regina, and possibly Abby?; and even wanting to see two of her roommates hook up and become lovers, and pulling strings to make that happen--all of this had been more fun than she remembered having had in her life before, when she had been conservative, prudish, morally pure, and more strictly ethical. Claire acknowledged that person was someone far different than the liberated, sensual young woman she felt she now was becoming and wanted to be. And, now here she was about to try to seduce Traci and Natasha

Right now it was nearly impossible to imagine returning to that life of circumspection, discretion, convention, and traditional morals. She didn’t know why, but something deep in her gut told her that she could never go back to being that prudish kind of girl ever again.

So what did that make her? If she wasn’t really a lesbian, and she didn’t like guys that much, was she asexual? No...she was feeling much too sexual for that. Was she bisexual? A switch-hitter? Possibly...maybe a bisexual with a preference for female companionship and intimacy...without being a lesbian per se… If so, that left the door open for warming up to guys again and having a “normal” marriage and family life in the future… Claire’s wishful thinking led her to settle on being bisexual as a reasonable compromise to describe herself.

Yes… That might be it... Maybe I’m bisexual… Maybe I’ve been this all along… Maybe I knew it all along…

The possibility of ever returning to men, and having boyfriends, and getting romantic and physical with men made her stomach turn. She didn’t understand it. She was fairly sure she had liked boys at some point, although she couldn’t really recall now whatever heterosexual emotions and urges she thought she must have had in the past. Did she develop a distaste for guys after coming to college? Is that why she had dumped her long-time boyfriend? Or...had she always liked girls better? Had her instant attraction to her roommates, as she now recalled it, when she arrived at Preston been because she liked girls...like a lesbian...or a girl-leaning bisexual girl...and always had?

Well...whether I’m bi...or just outright lesbian...one thing’s for certain… I’m not straight...not right now... Maybe that can change...maybe it’s just a temporary phase I’m going through… But...right now...I like girls too much to think I’m straight… I have time and opportunity to experiment…. But...I know...that...I love girls...

Claire couldn’t really pinpoint when she had come to this newfound conclusion about her sexuality, and she didn’t think she was close to being ready to commit to a life choice of being a lesbian forever. She needed to step a little deeper into experiences with her same gender, see what it was like, and analyze what she felt, who she wanted to be, and what kind of life she wanted in the future. The only thing she was sure of was that her new attitudes, desires, and view of herself had popped out into the open under Regina’s guidance. Her encouragement to try new things must have triggered this realization within her. Other big factors were knowing that Regina was a lesbian and feeling so powerfully attracted her, the first lesbian she had really ever known, and having come to view Regina, who not only was a sexy lesbian but also an exemplar of both strong character and ideal womanhood, as a model for herself. But had Regina merely been the catalyst for an awakening which had been brewing long before they had met?

And then Claire’s eyes went wide with shock and surprise. During her ponderings about her sexuality and her future, Claire had completely forgotten where she was and had lost track of time. Her attention focused back on Traci, who had an impatient look on her face again, her arms crossed over her bare chest and her foot tapping on the ground.

It became immediately apparent that, while Claire had been lost in her reflections, Traci had removed the last remnants of her clothing and was now standing fully naked before her. As she had done to the blonde woman’s breasts when Traci had stripped off her blouse, Claire shifted her gaze immediately to and fixed it steadfastly and hungrily on Traci’s lower half, dwelling particularly on her electrifying, scandalously exposed love box. It quickly struck her that, like her daughter, Natasha, Traci also sported a fully shaved and silky smooth pussy area.

Giving Traci a sheepish, apologetic grin Claire followed by removing the mini skirt and gently removing the boots and nylons off her legs. She remembered she was wearing earrings and a leather choker unsuitable for a pool, so she took them off, too. It wasn’t long before she was naked just like Traci and exposing herself to her. Claire felt no shame or a sense of indecency as she laid it all out for anyone to see. She felt empowered, excited, and, most of all, lustful over the opportunities that she hoped she would have with Traci and Natasha...arising from her nudity.

Traci gave Claire an approving nod as she seductively walked over to Claire, her hips swaying, enticing the college coed to reach out and roam her hands all over--which Claire wanted to do, and envisioned herself doing, and thought she might well have done, if Traci hadn’t started doing it to her first.

As Traci approached Claire, she reached out and gently pressed against Claire’s smooth, naked belly with her right index finger. Then the mature woman slowly and purposely walked around Claire, her finger seductively gliding along Claire’s waist, causing the black-haired woman to quiver with sexual excitement.

Claire could feel Traci’s finger as it sensually slid over her belly, then onwards to her womanly right hip. She let out a soft moan as she felt it behind her, roaming across her lower back just above her ass globes. She was shaking with sexual excitement by the time it got to her left hip, and she found it extremely difficult to control herself when Traci circled back to her front, resting her finger half-way between Claire’s belly button and trembling mons.

“Well, well, looks like someone here likes to keep things trimmed and proper,” Traci observed seductively. Claire felt Traci’s fingers descend down her abdomen and gently comb through the hairs of her pubic mound. Having another person touch her in such an intimate area was foreign to Claire, but she couldn’t deny how pleasurable it felt to have Traci’s fingertips, with their long, painted fingernails, softly stroke her mons pubis. The urge came to Claire that, if she enticed Traci, she might be willing to do a more thorough exploration of that area.

“I-I …I d-do it for… um… hygienic reasons…..… oh god ... “ Claire stammered out as the sensation of having another female touch her and feel her up was becoming overpowering.

“I see.” Traci said as her eyes narrowed a bit and focused on Claire with scrutiny, while continuing to play with Claire’s pubic hair. “Me, personally, I prefer to keep mine nice and bare. Just because it makes me feel feminine...and sexy...and you can’t really argue that a bald pussy is bad looking.” Traci stepped back a bit, sliding her hand from Claire’s mons but only after a slight, quick massage of the mound which ventured nearly to Claire’s clitoris in the process, to gesture to her completely nude groin.

Traci’s touch and display turned Claire’s legs to jello and caused her to gasp before she could answer her brazen hostess. “*Gasp*...ahhhh....uh...n-no… I...I… g-guess you really can’t dispute that...um...that logic,” Claire responded as she regained some composure from the reprieve she got with the withdrawal of Traci’s hand.

“Have you considered maybe going all the way...shaving it completely bald, I mean. You’re already halfway there from the look of things.”

“Not really… I mean, it’s something that never really crossed my mind.”

“Would you like to?”

“Uh...well...I probably would like to sometime. Yours looks so...so…”

“Beautiful? Scrumptious? Delicious? Irresistible?”

“...yes…all of that...”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you like my pussy so much. As for yours, Claire...there's no time like the present. I can do it for you if you’d like.”

Silence was the only answer Claire could give at the moment as she considered Traci’s offer. The ravishingly beautiful woman was offering to shave her groin completely bald. This would be the first time she let another person touch her in such an intimate area. Was she really going to let this happen? Maybe she could use this to seduce Traci and her daughter; after all, this was an assignment she received from Regina. But...just how in depth would Traci be going as she removed the hair? Would she limit her touching to the mons? Would she touch her clitoris, as she had almost done a few seconds before? Would she...would she touch her...her pussy lips? She certainly would be seeing all of that up close...but would she touch it all, too...?

“That way you and I would be exactly the same. Well, other than our hair color...but that can be fixed, too… You already know what I think about you going blonde, Claire. Knowing how much the thought of that turns you on, too, I’m a little surprised you haven’t dyed your hair yet. But your pussy...we can do that right now. I would love it if your pussy were like mine... So...what do you say? I know you’d like it...as much as I do…”

So many questions passed rapidly through Claire’s mind. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to commit to a shaved pussy yet--any more than to plunging her hair into blondeness--although now that Traci had put the idea in her head, she thought she would like to try it sometime. “I-I appreciate the offer...and it sounds good...but …”

“Great! Then it’s settled! I’ll meet you outside,” Traci interrupted Claire before she could find a way to turn down her offer. She wasn’t going to let Claire squirm her way out of this one. “Just grab a seat by the pool and I’ll see you soon,” The blonde beamed expectantly at the raven-haired coed and added a sly, seductive wink of her eye.

Okay… I guess...I guess I’m going to do this… How bad can it be?... Maybe I’ll like it...but...

Initially, Claire was a bit nervous with what she was about to do: She was going to let another woman shave her intimate area bald, which meant that woman’s face being within inches of her vulva, seeing every part of it in detail, and probably touching it, as well, out of necessity and, perhaps, also for play. Trying to see the world from a lesbian point of view and trying to coax her hostess and her daughter into trying lesbianism out was one thing; but getting her pussy shaved... She had never come close to anything like that before. Did she really want to go that far today? And, then, how would it feel? Both during the shave and afterwards? What would a shaved pussy feel like?

But then Claire felt something stir within her. Part of it was a spark of self-recrimination over her puritanical morals. Here she was with a very beautiful mother-daughter combo, with whom she was fortunate enough to spend the weekend. They had generously showed off their nude bodies to her, and one of them had offered to help her try something new...to shave her pussy, which few people would be willing to do for her..but Traci was… Yet Claire’s first reaction, starting when both mother and daughter stripped naked, was to go back to the sniveling, prudish persona that, as far as she was concerned, had been holding her back, denying her the joys of life.

No more! Claire mentally chided herself. She was not going to feel ashamed about exposing herself any longer. She was beautiful, her gorgeous body gifted to her by God…no, Goddess herself. She had every right to flaunt it, to show it off, to use it to entice other women. No, she would not feel embarrassed or ashamed!

Taking a deep relaxing breath, Claire held her head up high with a renewed sense of self confidence, walking toward the back door and the pool. Claire did her best to do a sexy, seductive walk as she wanted Traci to stare at her body, especially her ass.

When she made it to the door, Claire turned her head and looked in Traci’s direction. She was rewarded when she saw Traci standing in place staring at her derriere with approval, lust, and desire, the effect Claire wanted to achieve. Satisfied, she made her way out towards the pool.

When Claire arrived at the pool, she was greeted by the most refreshing of sights. While the landscaping of the backyard was lush and peaceful, with shrubs, potted plants, flowers, grass, shady trees, and fountains, all artistically placed to maximize the serenity of the backyard, which was surrounded by a very tall wooden privacy fence, the centerpiece of this marvelous view was the very naked, now-very-blonde Natasha splashing around in the pool, water sparkling over the high schooler’s nubile body, making it all the more enticing. Like sirens of legend--in Greek mythology, sirens were dangerous female creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and singing voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island--Natasha’s body and blondeness cast a dangerously alluring silent call to the entranced Claire.

“Hey Claire, nice to see you make it and … wow, nice, smoking bod!” the teen observed with exuberant glee.

This time, Claire was not bothered by the comment the teenager made about her body. After all, Claire realized, she was sexy and deserved whatever praise people said about her looks.

Claire acknowledged the compliment with a nod, raised her green-nailed right hand, and combed through her long black locks, followed by a teasing head flip that exuded sexual charm and seductive flirtation. As she started to walk toward a nearby poolside chair, she winked and smiled at the teenage girl in the pool. The comfortable outdoor chair faced the pool but sat close to the pool’s edge and, knowing Traci would probably need room to work in front of her, she scooted the chair a couple of feet back.

Sitting down, the black-haired fox leaned against the seat’s backrest, getting herself comfortable, and, as she did, Claire splayed her legs, exposing the intimate area between her legs to anyone who might pass by, or, more specifically, to the young high schooler playing in the pool in front of her. If Mom could see me now, she’d have a heart attack...but...too bad...This feels good… And look at that naked little hottie in the pool...looking at...at my pussy… Go ahead, you little doll… Take a good look...

When Natasha saw the way Claire was sitting, she stopped her splashing in the water and perched her arms on the side of the pool directly across from Claire, standing in water shallow enough to only cover her belly. “Hey Claire, why not come into the pool and join me for some fun?!” Natasha beckoned in a playful, teasing manner, sending Claire a teasing view of her young, bare breasts, wet, glistening, and jiggling in the bright sun.

“Appreciate the offer, but not right now. Your mom offered me something of a spa treatment, I guess you could call it, and I… and I gratefully accepted.” While that was not precisely true, as Claire had more or less been pushed into taking up Traci’s offer to shave the hairs off and around her pussy, she didn’t feel that it was an important distinction at the moment.

“Oh, really?” Natasha questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Curious as to what my mom plans to do to you. Mind if I watch?” Natasha started wading closer.

“Sure. Why not?” Claire responded with a sly smile as she opened her legs further, quite intentionally giving the young teen an even more glorious view of her aroused pussy. Claire then made a subtle gesture with her tongue, licking her lips to entice Natasha. She knew her attempt was a bit awkward, as Claire thought, at first, that she hadn’t flirted with anyone in a long while...maybe never, at least with a guy, as she thought it over, as that had never been her style, even when she had a boyfriend...except...maybe this morning she had flirted with her roommates...oh, yes, no doubt about that...and the day before, she had definitely flirted with Abby...and Regina, too...and Monica, during their move...and her teacher, Kim, for sure... No, she might not be the most experienced nor the smoothest flirt in the world...but she wasn’t completely without experience and skill...and, besides, she had a great body to do most of the work for her. Her attempt seemed to get the message across, as Natasha responded back with a playful gesture of her own.

I’m flirting with a beautiful naked, blonde teenage girl! While I’m naked! And she’s flirting with me! Wow! I never thought that I’d ever do that before. But...why not? It’s kinda fun...and she’s sooo cute...

Little did Claire reflect on the fact that deliberately opening her legs to display her womanhood to another girl, a teenager, at that, a youth barely more than a child, while both of them were naked--behavior which would have been completely alien and unimaginable to her but a week or two hence--transcended mere flirtation and transported her into the realm of slutty, dirty, depraved whorishness.

Traci had been right a few minutes before in her reflections to herself about Claire’s sense of modesty. She was, indeed, quite successfully destroying Claire’s modesty. The loads of brainwashing which had convinced her subconscious mind and her body that female modesty was an archaic relic of the past, that her mother’s teachings of chastity and sexual reserve were grossly false, that they were stifling impediments to happiness, that they were to be defied, disdained, and defiled, and that the overriding purpose of her body was sexual, that is, homosexual, a purpose fulfilled by displaying it wantonly and using it to inflame and to tempt other women, and to draw them into lesbian love and sex with her--all of this indoctrination was erupting forth, no longer buried within her but pouring forth out into the sunlight in this lush backyard. The vaunted modesty and morality of Miss Claire Love-Livingston was flying away, never to return...along with her heterosexuality...

However, before Claire could further bedazzle her new young friend or intensify the situation, she heard the patio door open and turned to see the alluring Traci walk out with a large silver tray in her hands. On that tray were some rolled-up washcloths, a large basin wash bowl full of a few things Claire couldn’t make out, two crystal pitchers, one full of water and the other full of orange-colored liquid, most likely the mimosa that Nastasha had said she had prepared, and a few drinking glasses, three by Claire’s count.

As Traci approached Claire, she wore a most wicked smile on her adorable face, which Claire saw. When she passed her daughter, she gave her a subtle wink, which Claire did not see.

Traci, standing next to and just behind Claire, turned around to place the tray on a small, sixteen-inch high, black poolside table behind Claire, off to her left. In response, Claire shifted her head a bit so she could turn left and see what Traci was doing, and was greeted by the heart-stopping sight of the scrumptious, naked mother facing away from her and bent over, exposing her most intimate parts to both Claire and her daughter. Mesmerized by the sight of the gently swaying globes of Traci’s delectable rear, Claire again found herself lost in sapphic thoughts, wondering how each cheek of Traci’s marvelous ass would feel in her hands, how Traci would react to her caress, what Traci would taste like as Claire ran her tongue up and down between Traci’s legs.

She snapped back to attention when she saw Traci turn to face her, the basin bowl in one hand and the pitcher of water in the other.

Goddess...I hope she didn’t catch me staring at her…

Seeking to assess that possibility on Traci’s face, all Claire saw was a warm smile that soothed her jitters. Unknown to Claire, Traci had purposely positioned herself in that manner, to further entice Claire and to tease her daughter a bit, as well, and was fully was aware of Claire’s interest in and gawking at her rear-view charms.

Not done with what she knew was a blazing hot provocation of her guest’s lust for her, Traci turned away again from Claire and bent down to set the basin bowl down along with the pitcher of water on the cement next to Claire’s chair, wiggling her ass and pussy directly in front of Claire’s face for a second or two before standing erect again, looking Claire in her blushing face, gratified by the coed’s obvious reaction.

“Here, sweetie, you’ll want to lean back a little and sit right on the front edge of your chair.” Traci stepped again to the back of the chair, raking her eyes over her guest’s curvy body. “First, lean forward a bit and I’ll adjust your seat back…” Claire sat up and scooted her rear forward in the chair while Traci lowered the back of the adjustable chair some, but only a third of the way to a full reclining posture. “Now lean back...yes...just like that...perfect… And relax!” Traci patted and stroked Claire’s closest shoulder, her fingertips straying over the upper slopes of Claire’s bulging breasts, as if to soothe her into relaxing, but knowing her touch was only exciting the girl.

Traci pulled the little, round, low table to rest next to Claire’s legs. “So are we ready?” Traci asked as she sat down Indian style on the poolside in front of her black-haired guest, giving the raven-haired fox the closest view of Traci’s mammoth, dangling tits which she had yet had, Claire opening her legs even wider to accommodate her hostess’s sitting body, giving the blonde a ringside view of Claire’s pussy, as well.

“I...I guess so…”

The blonde woman inspected Claire’s mons and vulva visually and tactically, running her fingertips lightly through the girl’s trimmed bush again and then along the outer periphery of the pussy lips, acting like she was a professional beautician simply surveying her client’s existing condition and assessing what treatment was needed, and where it was to be applied. She looked up into Claire’s face a time or two and smiled prettily, partly to act like a professional assessing her client’s reaction and assuring her of a kindly disposition, but mostly in open coquetry. The “inspection”, combined with Traci’s demeanor, had Claire trembling like a leaf and breathing so heavily that she had to gasp for breath.

Traci then took out a few things she had in the bowl and placed them on the table within Claire’s field of view, such as some washcloths, a can of shaving cream, some tubes of lotion, and, what made Claire glup a bit, a dangerously sharp-looking straight razor, the kind widely used before the invention of the safety razor, consisting of a long, exposed blade attached to a swiveling handle, its sharp blade gleaming in the rays of the sun.

“Sure?”

Claire took a deep breath and slowly nodded her head in affirmation. No way to back out now, she thought to herself, as she gripped the armrests of the chair and otherwise did her best to brace herself.

Sensing Claire’s tension, Traci placed a hand on Claire’s lap, that is, on the uppermost section of Claire’s thighs, her thumb just a few micro-inches away from Claire’s excited clit, which was erect with lust, extending out as if seeking Traci’s thumb, and her pussy lips were inflamed and wet with arousal. With a skilled, precise, dexterous movement, Traci glanced Claire’s erect nub with her thumb, making no acknowledgement or apology for what appeared to be a merely incidental touch, which caused Claire to gasp air in sharply and to impulsively thrust her hips upwards, as a jolt of excitable pleasure raced up her spine.

“Whoa there, Claire. Nothing to be nervous about. I’ve done this a few times, so you’re in good hands,” Traci reassured as she gently pushed down on Claire’s hips, soothing the nervous coed.

“Uh… sorry... I didn’t mean to… It’s just that no one...” Claire sheepishly stuttered as she tried to regain some composure, Traci understanding Claire’s case of trepidation, and Claire hoping she would. Claire wondered...if a slight touch from a woman near her pussy, even if it were unintentional or merely clinical, as seemed to be the case with Traci here and now, was enough to send that much pleasure coursing through her body, then what would actual, deliberate lesbian sexual intimacy feel like? Claire reflected back to the lesbian porn DVD she and Jessica had watched, and how curious she had been about what it would feel like to have her pussy played with, like had happened between the hot blonde and redheaded girls in the movie. Now she was within mere inches of finding out for herself. Now Claire’s curiosity overwhelmed her. Just that slightest touch had hooked her, and Claire knew she had to have more.

Recognizing the signs of lust that Claire was exhibiting, Traci shifted tactics. Her goal was to work Claire over and bring her close to a climax, but then to deny her a climax of pleasure, which Claire’s body was by nature seeking. If she wanted it, Claire would have to do some of the work herself.

“Okay...now that we got things settled, shall we begin?”

Claire slowly nodded her head, indicating her agreement to let the beautiful blonde women in front of her shave her pussy bald.

“That’s such a good girl.” Traci’s tone was that of a mother praising her daughter for acting obediently and doing something virtuous--and Claire took it as such--except in this case the meritorious act consisted of the daughter letting her mother shave her young cunt, while a younger sister watched.

With that being said, Traci took the items out of the large basin wash bowl. She then gently poured the water, which had been heated aforehand, from the pitcher into the bowl. She soaked one of the washcloths in the basin, wringed it out over the bowl, squeezing as much water out as she could, and laid the wet, warm cloth over Claire’s groin.

“I expect that you’ll be wanting to do this again...certainly to yourself...and possibly also to someone else...” Traci let that possibility sink into her guest before proceeding. “...so pay good attention. Do this again when needed, Some girls shave every few days, some every few weeks. Some ladies in a relationship do this to each other on a routine basis. In any case, you don’t want stubble around your pussy, which could irritate and deter your lover. You want your pussy to be as bare and smooth and soft as a baby’s bum, all the time. Smooth, clean, bald, soft, and inviting. And magical.” Traci paused again to let the ramifications of her words sink in, namely, that the treatment that Claire was about to receive for the first time in her life would happen again and again and again from this point on, and that the main purpose of a shaved pussy was directly connected with a lesbian life and lesbian sex.

“Generally you want to shave this area right after a warm shower. But if you can’t do that, then clean and massage the area with a warm towel. Like so…” Traci moved the cloth around some, then placed her red-nailed hand, palm down, over Claire’s cloth-covered pussy, pretending to seat the cloth in the most advantageous spot, thrilling Claire again as she watched and felt. “You want to be nice and relaxed, you know,” Traci coaxed, while moving her fingertips slightly over the cloth. Claire, her eyes now closing, let out a soft purr as she felt the warm, wet washcloth on her pussy and Traci’s hand through it. It all felt so relaxing and pleasant...but it didn’t compare to what happened next.

Traci began to actively massage the area between Claire’s legs, who couldn’t help but let out a moan of pleasure to let Traci know how good it felt. The washcloth over Claire’s pussy allowed Traci, she knew, to get away with more of a probing massage than would have been considered reasonable without it. Under the pretense of a necessarily thorough massage, Traci became a little bolder, placing her thumb on the washcloth at the spot underneath which she knew Claire’s clit would be, pressed gently down on it, and began to rub it through the washcloth.

Claire’s reaction was almost instantaneous as her body immediately seized. Intense pleasure raced up her spine and blasted her brain. She began to thrust her hips into the air, instinctively seeking more stimulation.

“Claire! You have to relax! If you buck around like that when I’m shaving you, I could cut an area you don’t want cut!” Traci admonished the raven-haired young woman lying before her.

“I-I’m sorry, Traci. It’s j-just that… “ Claire stammered, trying to offer a sad apologetic excuse for her spasmodic reaction.

“I understand, my dear, but do your best to pay attention, as this is more for your benefit than mine.

“So, as mentioned, you want to clean the pubic area and also exfoliate it, which you can do together in one step if you use an exfoliating cleanser like this one, as this will ensure that you a good amount of remove of dead skin cells and allow you to get a closer shave” That being said, Traci then picked up one of the tubes, applied some of its contents on the wet washcloth, and commenced gently washing Claire’s pubic mound.

Traci, seeming intent on making Claire’s pubic area as clean and soaked as possible, extended her pleasant cleaning massage of Claire’s mons area to her vulva and made it last over a minute, when five to ten seconds would have been more than long enough, causing the coed to close her eyes, lean her head back, and breathe out more moans of pleasure. After Traci removed the washcloth and rinsed and wiped the soaped area off, one couldn’t tell if Claire’s labia were wet from the lustful arousal elicited by Traci’s hand or from the dampness of the cloth. Regardless, Traci opted to move on to the next part of her lesson.

“So…” Traci picked up a can of shaving cream. “Next we apply a good application of shaving cream. I recommend that you use one that has aloe vera in it, like this one, as it helps minimize skin irritation, and avoid anything with fragrances in it, if you can, to avoid an allergic reaction.” With that being said, Traci pressed a button on the top of the can until she had a generous dollop of the cream in her free hand, which she then applied onto the hairy patch of Claire’s groin. She also dabbed some around the periphery of her guest’s pussy lips, explaining, “ Here, too, so we can catch any stray hairs below the patch on your mound.”

Claire let out a soft hiss as she felt the cool, comforting cream and Traci’s red-nailed fingers stroking her loins, which turned into throaty moans and some tossing of her head from side to side as she felt Traci work and massage the cream onto and into her private nethers.

As this beguiling treatment proceeded, Claire noticed that Natasha had waded closer in the pool until she was standing in the pool just a couple of feet away from her Claire’s splayed legs, with her forearms crossed and resting on the edge of the pool, and that she had been staring from this proximity with open interest at Claire’s pussy and it’s transformation for the past several minutes, as well as looking at Claire’s breast, as well at her face, as if trying to read Claire’s reaction to her mother’s attentions to her pussy, which arousal Claire wished she could conceal from the girl, but could not. When her mother got in the way of her view, the teen simply moved a little to restore it, watching now as the older blonde woman worked the shaving cream onto another woman’s hairy patch.

The girl was close enough to reach out and touch Claire’s foot, which she did, stroking it, and softly reassuring the coed, as if they were sisters, the younger one speaking words of comfort and encouragement, as if Big Sis were about to get her first perm or perform a gymnastics tumbling routine in a competition. “It’s okay, Claire… It’ll be fine…” She almost added that her mother shaved her pussy, too, and had never cut her, but she thought better about saying that. Natasha doing that, however, made the naked, black-haired beauty think of Wendy, and how she, too, would support and reassure her in a similar sisterly fashion...although...they had never been together in a situation like this one...but...was it possible that they ever could be…? If Claire showed herself like this to one sister-like teen girl...couldn’t she do it to another…?

Suddenly realizing more fully that displaying herself like this to her hostess’s teen daughter was highly improper, if not illegal, was akin to presenting porn to a minor, and was likely corrupting her morals, Claire also realized that she had already crossed that line, and that it was too late to back out without offending Traci and risking injury from the razor which Traci would soon be holding mere inches from Claire’s highly vulnerable pussy. So, trying to muster some control and make the best of it, Claire managed to collect herself, tried to relax, and spread her legs even further, giving both mother and daughter a scandalous, wide-open view of the aroused pussy between her legs.

Claire felt Traci stop her sensual application of the shaving cream on her groin and saw her wipe her hands off. Then there was a still silence in the air. The moment had arrived. Claire did her best to put on a brave face and steel herself for what would happen next. Traci picked up the shining, ominous blade.

“This is probably the most important part that you need to pay attention to, both of you,” Traci lectured, as she addressed both Claire and her daughter, Natasha. What had started as simply a beauty treatment had now become a lesson, kind of a fun lesson, for a class of two, whom Traci, the mother-teacher, seemed to be addressing as two sisters, her daughter-students. It was “Pussy-Shaving 101”. Both Claire and Natasha gave Traci their full, undivided attention and eagerly awaited her next instructions.

“You always want to use a clean blade for this, to avoid infections, and also a sharp one so it won’t catch on that odd hair or two. Also, you want to shave in the direction of hair growth. The straight razor I’m using takes a bit of finesse, but it’s not that hard to master. If you don’t feel comfortable with this kind of blade,” said Traci, as she held up the sharp instrument very close to Claire’s face to give her a good view of the blade that would soon shave her groin smooth, the gleam off the razor striking Claire with a menacing vibe, “I recommend having a standard razor at the ready to use...you know, the disposable kind, like you’d shave your legs with.

“By the way, Claire… When did you last shave your beautiful legs?”

“Oh...um...this morning...in the shower.”

“Before or after you masturbated?” Claire froze. How does she know…?”

Traci held a straight face, as if it were a serious question, but broke out into giggles within a few seconds. “Oh, Claire, you’re precious. You should see your face. Or...did I strike a nerve? DID you get yourself off?”

“Uh...uh…”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to tell. But...if you did...who did you think about?”

“I...uh...I…”

“I’m just teasing you, honey. Don’t worry about it. But I hope it was...me.”

“Oh...um...Traci…”

“It was! Wasn’t it?!”

It was more complicated than that. Yes, she had frigged herself thinking of Traci, but there had been others, several other women, in her fantasies, as well… And, besides, Claire wasn’t going to admit it that easily…

“No… I mean… uh.”

“That’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to say. Maybe you can tell me...later……….. But how about your legs? Did you shave them...for me?”

Claire felt that was an easier confession. “Oh...uh...yes…”

“Well, darling, that was so nice of you…..” The sultriness in Traci’s voice and face reflected her pleasure in Claire’s divulgence. “So I will now shave you, too. For you. Maybe for me, too…” It was difficult to mistake Traci’s meaning, especially with the coy little smile she flashed Claire, yet it wasn’t so blatant that Claire couldn’t let the remark slide, as well, which she did, not knowing how or whether to respond.

“So, without further ado...” Traci trailed off, a certain bit of sadistic glee in her voice. She licked her lips subtly in anticipation, as she moved the straight razor closer to Claire’s groin.

All Claire could do was grip the armrests of the pool chair with unease and brace herself for what she thought would be an uncomfortable experience. As she saw the blade draw close to her groin, Claire could only shut her eyes tight and turn her head away.

However, none of Claire’s dreaded expectations materialized. She felt no pain, nor did she hear Traci or her daughter scream in panic. All she could hear was the sound of sharp metal gently gliding over skin and severing hairs by the score. Claire turned her head back slowly, opened her eyes, and saw Traci making swift flicking motions. A nice, hairless bald spot began to appear on her female mound. Traci, seeing Claire’s wide-eyed discovery, looked in Claire’s eyes with a mischievous grin on her face.

“See… Nothing to be afraid of, my dearie. Just a nice, relaxing shave to remove some unwanted hair growth.” The pleasantness in Traci’s voice helped Claire relax and to feel she was on the right track getting her pussy shaved. Her beautiful, naked, blonde companion continued to give her a bald pussy, one Claire had never thought she had wanted, but to which all resistance was waning quickly, as the blonde’s presumptively innocent daughter leaned in to watch every stroke of the razor, every quiver of Claire’s pussy, and every response on Claire’s face. Traci proceeded steadily, pausing from time to time only to rinse the sharp blade in the basin bowl and wipe it with a dry washcloth.

Claire just stared with rapt attention as she watched Traci go to task on shaving her groin completely bald, like a thresher going through a field of wheat. This fascinating change of landscape between her legs seemed as though it was producing some kind of change in her identity and nature, her previous conventional, chaste self, the girl with the “normal” pubic hair, being cut down, hair by hair, and wiped away, and a new replacement girl being coaxed into existence, one distinguished by a fresh, new, liberated, sex-ready, sin-vulnerable, unchaste, bald pussy, one to be exposed casually and readily, one to be used, freely and often, for lesbian sex, one to be kissed, touched, licked, and fucked by other women, or such was the subtle impression coming over her. Her heartbeat intensified with each swift movement of the blade as she felt an excitable rush she never felt before.

The biblical story of Samson and Delilah flashed through her mind, in which the mighty, invincible Samson indiscreetly reveals to the seductive, treacherous woman Delilah that the secret of his strength lies in his long hair--which she clips off as he sleeps, robbing him of his power, so that he is subsequently subdued, blinded, and enslaved by his enemies. In Claire’s case, the similarity she saw was that it was as if her small carpet of pubic hair had tied her to her chastity and restrained, conventional sexuality, sitting as guardian over her virginal pussy; now her defense was falling and her ability to resist the enemies of her virginity and morality was fading, as her natural pubic bush, like Samson’s long hair, was being shorn away by a Delilah, transforming her pussy into something unnatural, for her, and emphatically erotic, changing from a sacred, godly, guarded, mundane, private pussy into an ungodly, gentile, worldly, sophisticated, free-wheeling, fun, accessible, open, public pussy. This was no longer an innocent, little-girl, good-girl pussy. Claire now had a cunt...a sexy, inviting, womanly, pornographic, available, wicked cunt.

It wasn’t long before Traci got down to the last tuft of hair on her groin. It was near her excited, erect clit, the fleshy nub jutting out from the confines of its fleshy hood, exposing itself to Traci’s observant eyes, indicating that Claire was aroused by the whole experience.

Traci gave Claire a knowing look and a wicked smile as she slowly drew the straight razor close, intentionally acting as if she might lose control and graze a very sensitive spot on Claire’s body. She was purposefully building up the anticipation, while fueling the atmosphere of danger, keeping Claire on the edge. Then, in one fluid motion, she removed the last bit of hair on Claire’s pussy. It took a second or two for Claire to realize that Traci had finished, as all she saw was a quick, skillful movement of the blade and Traci’s hand. The next thing she knew, Traci was cleaning the blade in the basin.

Traci took the water pitcher and gently poured water all over the coed’s crotch, not only onto Claire’s mound, but, as if wanting to be properly thorough, abundantly and directly onto her aroused clit pussy lips, and slit, as well, making Claire tilt her head back and open her lips with delight. Then, reaching for the wet washcloth, rinsing it out, and wringing it, the blonde woman applied it to Claire’s groin once more, informing Claire that, after a shave, it was always best to clean the area up nicely, making sure that there wouldn’t be any lingering hairs, shaving cream, or other debris that could irritate the sensitive pubic skin.

Again, Traci put Claire through agonizing sexual torture, as she felt Claire’s pussy up all under the pretense of educating her on how to shave and maintain a bald pussy area. She had the poor girl teetering on the edge before she relented and removed the washcloth from Claire’s groin, much to Claire’s disappointment. That provocative red-nailed hand had come to seem like it belonged on Claire’s pussy, and, without quite realizing it, the black-haired girl wanted it back. She wasn’t going to have to wait very long for its boomerang-like return.

Traci picked up a towel and dried the wet pussy off, taking care to rub the terrycloth a little into the coed’s slit, over and around her labia, and lightly over her clit, in addition to over her mons, as if only trying to be thorough.

“Now...take a look,” Traci encouraged. “Doesn’t that look a whole lot better--sexier--if I do say so myself?” Then, out of the blue, the beautiful blonde woman leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on the fresh, cleared mons skin, very close to the clitoris. Claire’s body tensed with sexual excitement as she experienced a woman kiss her on her newly shaved pussy.

Claire just let out a guttural moan of lust in response to Traci’s action. At this moment, she wasn’t sure who was seducing who, but regardless, she was enjoying the pleasures that were coursing through her body and wasn’t inclined to do anything to impede them.

“You look like you’re about to swoon, honey. Is it because you’ve been feeling danger?” Traci knew the danger to the morality of Claire’s pussy was likely as acute in Claire’s feelings as the hazard posed by the sharp razor. “Anyway, almost done, sweetie. There’re a few more things that need to be done. Think you can bear with me, Claire?”

“Uh huh..” was the only response that Claire’s lust addled mind could muster.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Traci flashed Claire a warm smile.

“So the final step is that you want to apply some lotion on the area after you shave it.” Traci reached over for the other tube that she brought with her. “This is to promote healing of any razor burns, soothe the skin generally, and to guard against other subsequent skin irritation.”

Traci popped the flip cap off and squeezed a good amount onto Claire’s mons. Then she began to gently massage the lotion into the skin of Claire’s pubic mound with her fingers, allowing her red-tipped fingers to “accidentally” stray onto vulvar tissue a little now and then, which caused Claire to moan. Unwittingly yielding to pure sexual instinct, she sought closer contact with Traci’s lovely, exciting hand, lifting her pelvis and bumping and grinding her womanhood against Traci’s hand.

“Just bear with me, Claire,” said Traci softly, pretending that that her guest’s gyrations and the groans of pleasure escaping from Claire’s mouth were manifestations of mere discomfort and girlish ticklishness, as if everything transpiring between them was innocent, and that she was oblivious to the sexual stirrings within Claire groin. “I’m almost done.” Traci kept this going for a few minutes longer, before relenting and stopping her sexual teasing of the raven-haired lass who was splayed out so lewdly before her.

“And done! So, Claire, what do you think of your new look?”

Claire took several moments to collect herself and to then focus on her lower region, but was amazed by what she saw. Her pubic mound was hairless and bald. The skin looked smooth as silk. It was as if she had always kept her pubic region like this, and had always wanted it like this. Claire impulsively wished that her pussy would stay this way. Yes...I...I should keep my pussy bald...and smooth...like this...from now on… I want to……... I’m...I’m like Traci now… How cool is that… It’s so perfect...

Claire didn’t have any clue about how completely and how easily her impulsive wish would come true. Unknown to her, the lotion and the shaving cream contained a chemical compound that, first, stunted hair growth, and, in time, destroyed hair follicles. It had been rubbed deeply into all of the follicle pores of her pubic skin, and was, at this moment, already beginning its demolition of her public hair follicles. Because part of them would for a time remain somewhat viable, albeit suppressed, her pussy would show signs of stubble in several weeks, which Claire would notice wondering at how long it had taken to appear, having expected stubble within a week or two of having first been shaved. She would shave again another time or two, using the same products and techniques used on this day, but the repeated applications of the chemicals would thereafter make her pubic area forever bald and smooth.

“T-Thank you, Traci,” Claire said gratefully, lost in admiration of her newly smooth, bald pussy, tentatively, experimentally sliding her index finger over it. Wow… It feels so nice…so...so...slick... “I appreciate it.”

“No problem, dearie. Why, I consider you practically family...especially now...and I would do anything to my family.” Traci said, putting a seductive emphasis on “to” to imply something far more mischievous than if she had said “for”. Not really sure what to make of it, and thinking she may have misheard the naked mother beside her, Claire just shrugged it off...although in the back of her mind she imagined naughty deeds she would specifically like to happen between her, Traci, and Natasha.

“I love shaving the pussies of my daughters.” Surprised by the implications of the statement--first, because Traci was obviously including Claire as a daughter to her, and second, because it implied that she also shaved Natasha--Claire looked over at Natasha, and then back at Traci.

“You...do you…?”

“Of course, honey. Her pussy looks just as sweet as yours, doesn't it? And I’ll shave you again, if you need it. Okay?” Traci slid a hand onto Claire’s thigh. “Oooo...so smooth!” Traci gushed, looking at Claire’s naked thigh. “I could get used to this…” She ran her hand just a little distance, but with a soft, seductive touch. “What legs you have, foxy girl.”

The black-haired student liked Traci’s touch and complement, and was pleased with herself for having shaved her legs this morning more meticulously usual. Then Claire saw Traci eyeing her pussy with apparent intense interest. The coed, who had been gradually allowing her legs to close a little, spread them wider again, to give her hostess the better view to which she now seemed entitled, and noticed Traci’s eyes open a little wider, as well. “Uh...about your offer...sure… I’d like that.”

“Claire, you do have a very pretty cunt.” Traci ran her hand lightly up her guest’s smooth thigh and seemed to be leaning forward, as if she were about to kiss the displayed, bald pussy again. Traci seems to think of me as her daughter… I think I like that… I wonder what she meant when she said she was going to do things “to” me…as her family member... And...and is she going to...to kiss me...there...again..? One kiss on her pussy by another woman probably was already one too many, the remnants of her old values suggested to her, but another one? Could she stand the brazen but blissful shock? Then, Traci had called her pussy a “cunt”--the first time she could remember anyone having applied that word to what she had between her legs, but, if it were crude, it also seemed to be just about the right term now.

It seemed to Claire, in a way she didn’t quite recognize consciously but felt deep inside herself, her perception consisting of raw feelings rather than distinct thoughts, that her pussy now belonged to Traci...that, after the way Traci had transformed it and touched it and loved it, it was now Traci’s creation, hers to control, hers to love. Claire had sold it, whore-like, to Traci in return for making it bald and sexy, for making a whore’s cunt out of it. If the blonde had rendered it back into Claire’s possession, now that she was done with it for the time being, it was not without strings attached. In giving Claire a new pussy and being done with it for now, Traci had not ceded ownership. The blonde mother certainly now had naming rights, which she had just exercised, as well as visitation rights, which Claire was unwittingly respecting by opening her legs and letting her hostess view and otherwise have whatever access she wished to have. Claire would have let Traci do almost anything to her pussy right now, and Traci knew it. But she also knew doing more to the delectable pussy staring her in the face was not in Hecate’s plan for the pretty coed at this particular point...however much the blonde was tempted…

That didn’t mean, however, that she couldn’t put more ideas into her protege’s pretty head.

Now Traci, as a mother to Claire and as the creator and owner of her new cunt, was going to define for Claire what its purpose was. “Do you know what a pussy is for, Claire?”

“Uh...well...yeah...I think so… It’s for...uh...urination...and menstruation….and...uh….babies come out through...”

“You’re just beating around the bush, darling. Pun intended.” Traci smiled prettily when Claire blushed.as the little joke dawned on her. “A woman’s cunt--your cunt, sweetheart--has one main purpose, one true, overriding use. It’s really the only true, significant purpose of a pussy. Sex, honey. Fucking. That’s what you are to use your cunt for. A pussy is for sex. A cunt is for fucking. That’s it. You have a cunt for it to be fucked. Your cunt is a beautiful fuck hole, and nothing more or less. Never forget that. Okay?”

“O-okay, Traci...er...Mom…”

The considerations mentioned above and the suspense of what Traci was going to do next had Claire highly excited. However before she could give more thought to such matters, and before Traci could give in to her urge to kiss and to tongue her guest’s freshly-shaved and rechristened cunt, Claire’s and Traci’s concentration was broken with an exuberant shout. “Last one in is a rotten egg!” A second later, Traci’s blonde daughter was executing a cannonball leap into the deeper end of the large pool.

The sudden splash of water that sprayed everywhere, including on Claire and Traci, seemed to break the spell momentarily joining Claire’s young, new cunt with Traci’s eyes, hand, and lips and to cast a different spell, one of refreshment and fun. Traci shot to her feet, shook her head in jovial disbelief, and uttered, “I swear! That child has enough energy to power the whole state of Florida!”

“Ha, ha, ha! Well, you can’t blame her. She’s young. And how does that song go? ‘Girls just want to have fun’, I believe,” Claire said mischievously, as she got up from the pool chair. Reaching out, she took hold of Traci’s left hand.

“Well, well, look who’s gotten a little bolder after getting her pussy shaved.”

As a knee-jerk reaction to Traci’s playful taunt, Claire was about to let go and jerk her hand back, but Traci recognized Claire’s reaction and refused to let go. As an encouraging gesture that she was actually in no way put off by what Claire did, but rather welcomed it, Traci interlocked her fingers between Claire’s and flashed her a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Claire. There’s no need to be embarrassed with me. After all, it’s just us beautiful women here,” said Traci, gazing into her guest’s blue eyes. “Naked...curvy...and beautiful. You certainly are. Stacked…” Traci ran her eyes very blatantly down to Claire’s tits, then back to her face. “And beautiful.”

Claire turned to more fully face Traci, as they still held interlaced hands, stared into her companion’s lovely amber-brown eyes, and smiled at the older, voluptuously naked woman. “Thanks.” She was powerfully tempted to drop her eyes to the blonde’s formidable breasts, as Traci had done to her. She tried to resist, not wanting to disturb the romantic vibes she felt in the moment, and knowing she would have opportunity aplenty very soon to indulge her visual greed for her hostess’s body. Yet, she couldn’t help herself, glanced down for a rewarding, nearly inescapable glimpse, and returned her eyes to Traci’s. The blonde woman’s smile turned a little more sultry and exultant.

“Hey! Are you gals just going to stand there and make goo-goo eyes at each other or maybe join me for some fun in the pool?!” shouted Natasha, breaking the brief spell of admiration and strong attraction that Claire was feeling for Traci, while also splashing water from the pool onto the bodies of her companions.

“Well, it seems that someone is getting impatient. Shall we join her?” Claire proposed with a little mischief in her voice.

“Yes, lets!” responded Traci.

Natasha was just splashing around the pool happily when she saw her mother and Claire making their way together to her side of the pool. Not paying much attention to their deliberate pace and direction, Natasha started to do a few back strokes in the pool, purposely showing off her perky breasts, which were peeking up enticingly through the surface of the water. At the same time, she watched the large breasts of both women bounce up and down and swing side to side with their strides. Distracted, she didn't notice both of them running in her direction until it was too late. By the time she heard them running, in her mind’s eye everything ran in slow motion. Their breasts were bobbing wildly...their skin shone magically in the bright sun...and then both women jumped into the pool, each creating a very big splash close to Natasha, soaking all of them, but the blonde teen forcefully.

“Hey! No fair doubling up on me! Warn a girl next time!”

“I thought you wanted us in the pool with you, Natasha,” Claire explained with faux innocence, as she gave Natasha a mockingly puppy-eyed apologetic look. “Don’t tell me that you’ve changed your mind.”

“Yeah, so I can do this!” exclaimed the teen as she splashed water at Claire.

It didn’t take long before all three women were playfully splashing each other, enjoying their time in the pool, each other’s company, and the beauty of each other’s sexy, naked body, Claire taking the opportunity in particular to at last drink in the bewitching allure of Traci’s monumental breasts, gloriously bare and glistening wet, to her heart’s content.

********************

Meanwhile …

Having taken care of her business for the day at the comics store, Meredith felt that it was only fair that they do a thing or two which Monica might enjoy. With a little coaxing, she managed to convince the Hispanic hottie, who obviously wanted to defer to Meredith’s preferences for their time together, to pick a place where they could go. She ended up picking the local mall, which had various shops and boutiques where they could window shop, browse sundry goods of interest to them, and maybe make a purchase or two.

As they parked, a point of curiosity popped up in Monica’s head. On the drive to the mall, they had passed a church, where a number of people had assembled on, below, and surrounding its front steps. Just as the girls drove by, it so happened that two people exited the church and descended the steps, upon which the group surrounding them broke out in cheers and started throwing rice up in the air. Some lucky couple had just gotten married.

“Look, Meredith. A wedding!” Monica pointed out with excited glee. Despite the fact that Monica had a dark cloud floating over her head concerning her own impending nuptials, in the form of her mother’s expectations that she marry a clunkhead guy of her mother’s choice when she completed her undergrad education, that hadn’t soured Monica on marriage as a general concept, and she still yearned for a picturesque, romantic, perfect wedding of her own.

“Isn’t that nice!?”

“Yes, it is.” Images surfaced from Monica’s dream of the previous night, of herself as a bride. “I love weddings.”

Both girls tried to see through the crowd as they passed, curious about the couple.

“Oh! I see the bride. Ohhh, she’s sooo pretty!”

“Oh, yeah! I see her, too! I can’t see the groom, Meredith. Can you?” By now they had driven past the gathering. Monica had turned around in her seat to look back and Meredith was looking back in her side mirror.

“No. Wait. I see...I see…” Monica and Meredith saw two giggling, pretty young women in white wedding dresses climb into an awaiting limo, with no sign of a groom in sight.

“...another...another bride!” Both coeds felt a distinct titillation run through their young bodies.

“Wow…”

“Yeah. Wow.”

After driving in silent reflection the rest of the way to the mall, the roommates walked pensively through the parking lot. At last, Monica broached the subject on both their minds. “Uh...Meredith?... I was...uh...wondering…...what you thought of that...that wedding…”

“With the two brides?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought it was so...so romantic. How about you?”

“Me, too. Just beautiful……. What...what do you think of two girls...or women...marrying...each other?”

“Me? I don’t have anything against it. As long as they love each other, and are really hot for each other, then why not? In fact, I think two girls in love should marry each other. How about you? What do you think?”

“Oh, well… I don’t know that I’ve ever thought about it much...but...yeah...why not?” Monica’s voice was a little wistful as she looked at Meredith. Like Meredith said...it looked so...romantic... “It could be...wonderful…

A vision passed through Monica’s mind. She saw two veiled young women standing at a flower-bedecked altar in white wedding dresses. The minister had just pronounced, “And now you may kiss the bride,” whereupon both brides lifted their veils, revealing the faces of Monica and Meredith, and they blended their painted mouths together. Without thinking analytically, the Latina gushed within herself. Ohhhh, yeah!

.”

“C-can I ask you another question, Meredith?” Monica inquired meekly, mustering up the courage to broach a topic of sudden interest with her sexy redhead companion.

“Sure thing, good looking,” invited Meredith.

“Have you ever thought about the kind of person you want to marry?… I mean, you know, who do you think you’ll be spending your life with? or something like that,” Monica asked in a flustered tone. She didn’t know why she cared about Meredith’s future romantic and marital direction--she had never cared in the least about it before but a few days ago--but she did now, and a lot. And the possibility that Meredith might want to marry her, Monica, and that she could marry Meredith, odd as it seemed, started to dawn on her.

There was a silent pause as Meredith thought over Monica’s inquiry. She had always planned on marrying someone. She had assumed that her someone would be some guy, a man who caught her fancy, one with whom she felt a mutual attraction, and one she would like to be with “ ‘till death do you part”. However...as she searched her feelings to answer Monica’s question, she realized that recently her leanings on the matter had changed. Perhaps it had come from the liberal-minded college community in which she had been living. Maybe it was from having lived with such sexy female roommates. Maybe it was the newlywed lesbian couple she had just seen. But now Meredith was aware that marriage to a guy felt like an incorrect choice...like a foolish mistake...like an anachronism...like throwing her life away simply to comply with expected norms.

But, Meredith reflected, she had never been one to simply follow the crowd, nor to ignore her inner compass to decide an important matter. And her better judgment and core desires were insisting to her that men were not for her. No, the person she should wed wouldn’t be some guy, her subconscious whispered loudly to her. It would be a woman. She would have a bride, not a groom. Her bride would be extremely sexy, a demon in the sack, and someone who would adore and worship her. They would be two hot and passionate brides, just like the couple they had driven by earlier.

An image popped into Meredith’s mind, as had happened with Monica. It was the scene outside the church. She saw the two brides, both blondes, descend the steps of the church, onlookers throwing rice jubilantly in the air. She had a good look at them, unlike the pair they had driven past in the real world, and saw herself and Monica as her new spouse. As they approached their awaiting limo, they stopped on the sidewalk for a long, romantic French kiss. The vision faded as fast as it had come, and afterwards she could scarcely believe what she had imagined, but her inner response was akin to Monica’s. Woah! Where...where did that come from?... But….hmmmmmmm… Marriage to another girl……..maybe even...to Monica…….. Wow...I...I have to think about it….

As these were new views for Meredith, she didn’t want to reveal them openly until she had thought them over and was more certain about them. “I haven’t given it much thought, since I’m still young. ’m still technically a teenager, you know...just like you...and have my life ahead of me. But yeah, I do want to get married...just not right now…” She looked at her beautiful companion, seeing an ideal mate for her, which impression glided through her for a quick second. “Well...that is...if I met the right person...maybe...uh…….. I guess...I guess I haven’t given much thought to who I’d like to marry, or anything like that.”

“Oh, I see…” Monica felt a little dejected by Meredith’s seeming deflection of her inquiry, not knowing Meredith’s feelings were drifting in the same direction as her own. What did I expect her to say? “Monica, I want to marry someone just like you! And let’s elope tomorrow.!” No… Of course she’s probably looking for a guy… Anyway, what am I thinking? Girls can’t marry gir-- Oh...wait… She recalled the wedding they had just passed. Yes...they can...

It failed to dawn on Monica just how like a lesbian her desires were right now. But the melancholy feeling didn’t last long, as she felt a soft hand embrace hers and she turned her head to see Meredith give her a warm smile. In fact, as she looked at Meredith’s pretty face, it seemed to glow at her and to be drinking her in intently, as if Meredith hadn’t revealed all of her thoughts on the matter of her future marriage and that Monica might have something to do with that future event. Just that possibility transformed Monica’s momentary depression into an opposite mood, and she smiled back at her redheaded date.

“Time will tell, beautiful.” Maybe it will be...you.

Monica drank her companion in...her cute red ponytail and bangs...her lips painted so invitingly with that dark shade of burgundy...her tight tee emphasizing her pert breasts...her smooth, bare waist and belly...her womanly hips...her straight, white teeth...her dainty facial features...her clear blue eyes...her dimpled smile… She’s so cute...

“Whoever it is...is going to be a very, very lucky g--” Monica caught herself. She was going to say “guy”, but on the hope it could be a girl, she was going to switch it to that, and then realized that would be quite presumptuous, so she modified it yet again. “...person.”

“Why, thank you, Monica!” She wouldn’t have said that before. She’s changing...and I like it. “That’s so nice of you to say…….. Come on, let’s not waste the whole day sulking about who’s going to marry who. I’m here on a date with my girlfriend and I want to enjoy her company right now instead of spending a lot of time speculating about future possibilities.”

The admission on Meredith’s part that they were on a date, and that Meredith viewed her as “her girlfriend”, whether intentional or by a slip of her tongue--and the fact that Meredith had been open to discussing marriage with her, even though she had been left with less insight into Meredith’s leanings than had satisfied her--was enough to cheer up Monica even more. She held on tight to the hand of her best fr--no, of her girlfriend, like Meredith had said--with hers as they walked together towards the mall entrance.

After walking around a while, looking at window displays and going in to several stores to survey their wares, both young women mentioned to each other that the mall had an upscale beauty and cosmetics salon, A Touch of Amour, which also doubled as a health spa of sorts and one that Monica frequented and where she was a known regular. It seemed to call to both of them the moment they thought of it. That was the store both young women found themselves walking into not long afterwards..

Once in the salon, after they surveyed the products and services offered there, with Monica showing her friend around and describing the types, variety, and uses of a number of items on the shelves and naming some of her favorites, Monica, already high on Meredith and eager to see to see how much more beauty and sexy allure was hiding in her just waiting to be liberated by cosmetic and other treatments, tried to convince Meredith to let one of the sales beauticians give her a makeover. Meredith was a bit hesitant, as she only recently had begun to use some cosmetics on herself and was still trying to figure out her own tastes and preferences when it came to cosmetics. She was also a little insecure about letting a stranger evaluate her hair and face for imperfections to address, even though she now was certain that at least Monica and Claire found her attractive and her confidence in her looks had been building quickly in the matter of a few days.

For her part, Monica was dying to see what Meredith would look like and be like if she got totally into cosmetics, as well as into other artificial measures of beautification and sexier styles of clothing, like herself. She knew enough about treatments in a high-end salon like this one to see one of their makeovers as a superb opportunity to get Meredith started seriously down that path. While she had never cared about Meredith’s looks nor thought it was of any importance to her until the last few days, maybe the last week or two at most, she did now. Out of the blue, it was a central and momentous interest in her life, as was Meredith herself.

Although Meredith’s past approach to cosmetics had been to avoid them, matching Claire’s long-time custom, Meredith’s view on the use of cosmetics was philosophically different from Claire’s. Claire’s perspective had been based on principles she had adopted from her mother, principles which advocated natural beauty and claimed that a woman could look just as beautiful without the aid of cosmetics. Meredith, however, had noticed that Claire appeared to have abandoned that policy this morning...and Meredith had to admit that Claire had looked a whole lot better for having done so.

Meredith’s attitudes about cosmetics and her past avoidance of them weren’t principled like Claire’s had been, but rather had been born of her crushing experiences as an ugly duckling as a teen. Her mother had made the attempt to show her what kinds of cosmetic products were available and various techniques for their use, and had encouraged her to try cosmetics when she had been in high school, to try to break her away from her geekish style and to encourage her to be more feminine and delicate. However, in those formative high school years the redhead had been shunned and mocked at every turn by her vapid peers. She had seen no use in trying to doll herself up with cosmetics and had just given up.

It had only been within the last year that Meredith had started reconsidering cosmetics, and had secretly bought a few products and tried them out in private, after having been roommate-close to a beautiful young woman like Monica, whose good looks and confidence seemed inseparably connected to cosmetics, and having had a reprieve at college from the taunts of her youth, and having recognized that she actually had some prettiness and curviness to work with, at least now that she was developing into adulthood. In the previous week or two, Meredith, with encouragement and praise from Claire, had started to venture out of her shell more and try makeup semi-publicly, although it had been the bare minimum.

Last night and today, for the time she would be spending with Monica, she had finally gotten bolder, and the lovely Monica had, for the first time ever, complimented her about her looks--it was actually the first time the Latina had made any compliment of any kind to her, grabbing Meredith’s attention all the more--and, in fact, had been unmistakably enthralled with her, largely, Meredith concluded, because of her makeup, particularly her dramatic, deeply-colored lipstick. She was now convinced that she wanted makeup to be a part of her future path, especially her path with Monica, and to use it frequently and more adventurously than she so far had, but she wasn’t sure quite how to go about it and how far she should get into it. She didn’t let on to Monica, but she was definitely intrigued by Monica’s suggestion to try a professional makeup makeover, while still a little reluctant to do anything too radical or to commit herself too heavily.

Nevertheless, after a little more encouragement on Monica’s part, Meredith relented and agreed. Not long after that, she found herself nervously sitting in the cosmetologist's chair, Monica standing off to the side. Her gaze roamed over the store, and then finally settled on the cosmetologist who was about to work on her, a tall, young African woman who appeared to be in her early twenties and who introduced herself as Bethany, whose body was similar in type to her roommate Jessica’s, athletic and well-toned, and was notable for its smooth, flawless, dark chocolate-colored skin. Her exotic, pretty looks made Meredith wonder whether she did any modeling work on the side, which happened to be a very accurate speculation. The woman seized Meredith’s undivided attention and had her heart throbbing more heavily from the moment she started resting her eyes on her.

Bethany was wearing an ocean blue, button-up uniform mini dress. The way the thin nylon fabric clung to Bethany’s body showed off the elegant curves of her figure spectacularly and allowed a hint of her pale, pastel blue bra and panties to show through. Her long legs were encased in sheer, creamy white stockings and her feet in pointy-toed, dark teal-green, five-inch high heels. On her face she had turquoise and smoky silver eyeshadows accented by black eyeliner, and Bethany’s eyelashes were thick and long with mascara. The combination complimented the cosmetologist’s smokey grey eyes. She had brushed her cheeks with a touch of gold-colored blush and her lips were painted with a seductive dark sanguine red color, which also matched her long, neatly manicured nails. Her center-parted, sleek, straight, neck-length bob-cut hair was dyed to a medium steel gray.

Despite the alluring beauty of Bethany’s face and hair, Meredith found that she couldn't stop her gaze from repeatedly focusing on one specific part of Bethany’s body--her buoyant, mighty, mammoth breasts, which strained against the confines of the button-up ocean blue uniform she was wearing.

God, I wonder if she had any work done? Those look like some exquisite-looking double D's, maybe an F cup, the redhead thought to herself, mesmerized by the gentle shifting of the large, heavy globes in front of her, so much so that she was tuning out everything else going around her.

“Hello?” came the concerned voice of her roommate to her left. “Hey, Meredith…. Earth to Meredith… Come in, please.” Snapping back into focus, Meredith embarrassingly realized where she was, with whom she was, and that she had been ignoring what Monica had been saying to her. The redhead hoped that Monica hadn’t noticed that the source of her preoccupation had been Bethany’s breasts.

“Everything okay? You kind of zoned out on me.”

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine,” Meredith giggled nervously, while shifting a bit uncomfortably in the cosmetologist's chair. “Uh…just a bit nervous … Heh.”

“Meredith, there’s nothing to worry about. I know this is new to you, but I know this place. They’ll take good care of you. Whatever they do to you, I’m sure you’ll like it. I was just going to say that I hope you don’t mind me stepping away for a bit and getting a treatment, too, as long as I’m here. But I want you to know that we are here mainly for you…you know, since we’re friends and all that. This is your special treat. Okay?” Meredith nodded absently, having returned her eyes to Bethany’s charms. “So, see you later, sweetie. Have fun!”

“Okay...bye…”

Monica caressed her friend’s shoulder before turning away and heading out of the partitioned-off station on her way to the reception desk. As she passed Bethany, she dropped a twenty-dollar bill into the front waist pocket of the beautician’s uniform and whispered, “Take good care of her, okay?” Bethany smiled and nodded, upon which Monica disappeared.

“She’s right, you know? You have nothing to worry about, sweetness. You’re in good hands with me,” Bethany said reassuringly, as she gently combed her fingers through Meredith’s red, blonde-highlighted mane. “By the way, I love the highlights you did to your hair. Who did them?”

“I-I don’t know. I guess… Monica and I might have dyed each other’s hair a few days ago,” Meredith replied, unsure of her answer. While she did enjoy the new coloring of her hair, and, now that it was done, she welcomed it as something she would do again in a heartbeat, yet she couldn’t really pinpoint when she opted to perform this level of cosmetic change.

“Well, I do have to say that it looks absolutely stunning on you. But, if you ever want to venture and try different styles and colors, we have professional hair stylists that work here that you’re more than welcome to call and schedule an appointment with,” Bethany offered as she turned around and bent over to fish for a business card on her workstation, which in turn caused Meredith to leer at the cosmetologist's beautiful ass. She could once again make out Bethany’s light-colored panties, which stood out in contrast to her dark skin, through the uniform’s thin, tight skirt. She wondered what it would feel like if she were to reach out, grab hold of that lush butt flesh, and give the delightful looking rear a good squeeze. However, she didn’t have much time to dwell on such a lewd thought as Bethany found the card, turned back around, and handed it over to Meredith. From the type of wry smile on Bethany’s face as she approached, Meredith guessed--correctly so--that Bethany had caught her staring at her ass, but didn’t mind, knowing the attractive power of her rear end and appreciating Meredith’s interest, although curious about finding it in a straight-looking young woman like Meredith.

“T-thanks…” Meredith said politely as she took the card and placed into one of her pockets.

“So...that girl you came in with...Monica?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve seen her here before. She’s really cute, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Really cute.”

“Well...pardon me for asking...but is she someone special to you?”

“Yeah, she is. She’s my girlf... I mean, uh, she’s my roommate. We both go to Preston.”

“Oh...of course. Well, how would you like to look as good as she does? Or better?”

“Me? Really?”

“Yes. You definitely have the potential...with a few changes… You’re already pretty close.”

“Like...change in what ways?”

“First, your hair color. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great the way it is. You’re really quite pretty. But you could try something different, just for a change. Like you did when you highlighted your hair, except go further. Like, have you ever considered just going all the way blonde? You’d look great!”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Your girlfriend...er...I mean your roommate...would love it...if that matters to you…”

That question did matter to Meredith, very much, although she didn’t respond, lost as she was in trying to picture herself as a blonde. She also missed what Bethany had almost implied about the relationship between her and Monica, which the cosmetologist had by this point deduced might be more than that simply being “just friends.”, from the way the two had walked into the salon holding hands (which she thought she had seen, but wasn’t sure), from the soft, affectionate way they had looked at and spoken to each other, from Monica’s gentle touch on Meredith’s shoulder upon departing, from the generous tip Monica had given Bethany to “take care of” Meredith, from the way Meredith had almost identified Monica as a “girlfriend”, and from the general vibe the the two girls emitted...not to mention the way this redhead girl had been checking her cosmetologist out--her big breasts, in particular--non-stop from the time she had first sat down in the chair. Further, the young black woman had some friends who were lesbians, and, in some hard-to-define way, Meredith was like them. Yes...this girl might be gay, it was striking Bethany...but she wasn’t sure...so she had better not assume anything. She had nothing against gays at all, being bi herself but if she went with the odds, her client probably was probably bi-curious and coming to terms with it or working the nerve to ask her friend, Monica, out, Bethany concluded, as most of the lesbians or bi-girls she had done work for who had jitters about their first bi or lesbian date or seeking the attention of a cute crush and working the nerve to ask them out who sat in her chair were.

While Bethany, who still lived at home with her parents, was bi, as she often enjoyed the companionship of either male or female depending on her mood, and had dated both boys and girls occasionally, she had never had a steady relationship, it wasn’t the fact that she couldn't find anyone it was more like trying to make time to make the relationship work, honestly she barely had time to herself as most of it was dedicated to dealing with work, helping her elderly parents at home, some volunteer work she did on weekends, and finish getting her degree in business management at the local community college. It is not like Bethany didn’t find boys or girls all that appealing, in a general sense, and had wondered what if, from time to time, she had been bold and dedicated more of herself in some of her past relationships. Often wondering what could have been. Bethany did have to admit that there was a part of her that found some of her female clientele intriguing, even desirable. Still Bethany reasoned that such feelings were part of the job and when the right person, regardless if they were male or female, came along she would be willing to dedicate herself to that relationship. While Meredith was a beautiful, charming girl, unfortunately she wasn’t the type that Bethany was drawn to, as much for her current state as for the potential Bethany could see in her, and Bethany had already had a few thoughts about what she could do for her to help build up the red-headed lass’s confidence, and she wasn’t about to outright call the girl out for staring at her or anything else that would jeopardize her job. However...while Meredith wasn’t really her type and … Bethany felt there was no harm in flirting just a little and leading the red-head along...well...that never hurt anybody… and plus she might get a very good tip out of it.

“There are a lot of shades to choose from. Here’s a chart…” Bethany came to stand next to Meredith, rubbing her nylon-covered hip along Meredith’s shoulder as she moving in close, bent over a little, which thrust her impressive breasts into her petite customer’s face, handed the petite redhead a laminated page showing a host of hair color choices, and pointed out the section at the top displaying an array of blonde shades.

After letting her customer scan both her melons and the hair color options for several sections, noting Meredith’s rapt interest in both, she continued. “Or, you could stay red, but go redder...maybe much redder…” The cosmetologist pointed to an intense, bold, unnatural red-red, which happened to be very similar to that of the Black Queen character. “Have you ever thought of giving a goth look a try? You could pull it off great. You already have the pale skin. All you’d need after you dyed your hair...like, a wild red, like this...or silver-blonde, maybe...or…” Bethany ran a red fingernail down the chart to a deep blue-black. “Or...more likely, blackest evil black, or blue-black, like this… So all that you’d need would be some goth clothes, and some nice black lipstick, and maybe a tattoo or a piercing or two. I noted that you already like dark lipstick, like what you wore in, and it looks great on you, and that you appear to like black clothes, so you’re already not that far away. Maybe you could get your girlfriend,” Bethany not bothering any longer to pretend that the Latina was a mere friend to Meredith, “to get into the goth look and lifestyle with you together. Can you imagine her with a cool goth look?”

“Yeah...that would be cool…”

Meredith could tell that Bethany was having fun with this survey of options for Meredith, and that sometimes she was probably half-joking, but she didn’t mind at all. She was getting some eye-opening suggestions about looks she had never considered for herself before, and the idea of pulling Monica into some kind of exotic transformation, maybe even one matching her own, immediately appealed to her..

Bethany returned to her survey of the hair color chart. “And then this one, rose gold, is really popular right now. It comes in varieties like this pink version.”

“Oh, yeah. That is really pretty.”

“Or you could go brunette, like this one, or this. Have you ever considered it? You’d look so good...” Meredith had not thought about it, but agreed silently with her cosmetologist’s suggestions.

“But frankly, doll, you’d look good in just about any color.”

“Wow. That was really eye opening. Thank you, Bethany, for taking the time to go over all that with me...and for saying that. It’s nice to hear..”

“No problem, pretty girl. I meant it. And we’re here for you anytime you want to make a change.” Bethany had said a change in hair color was the first alteration Meredith should consider if she wanted to end up as beautiful as Monica, or to pass her, implying there was at least a second change Meredith could make, but the cosmetologist then realized that bringing up the second item on her list might offend her client, so she decided to withhold it, at least until she had felt the redhead out about it.

“Okay, well, back to business,” Bethany said as she took her chin between her right thumb and index finger, studying Meredith’s features intently. “Hmmmm. Let’s see what we have to work with…”

Bethany’s inspection of her face made Meredith fret. In her younger life, such evaluations, whether by herself or others, were not positive experiences. Although Bethany had just told her she was cute, pretty and beautiful, even, and that her hair was already quite pretty, that was before she had looked at her face carefully. The coed braced herself to hear the litany of flaws that were most likely going to be brought up.

It wasn’t hard for Bethany to detect the apprehension that Meredith was feeling, the young woman’s body visibly tensing as Bethany started her evaluation. Remembering that the girl’s friend had to almost plead with Meredith to agree to the makeover, and seeing the way Meredith was acting now, Bethany guessed that this redheaded girl might have been picked on as a child over her looks, and that her self-esteem had been torn apart in the process. Bethany had a few ideas on what could turn this cutie into an outright hottie, and had shared one of those ideas already, which they weren’t going to act on today. Before she divulged the second idea, she wanted to make sure she was going to do more good than harm. Knowing part of her job was cheerleader and psychologist for her clients, especially for one so apparently sensitive as this one, her goal was to soothe the girl, and assure her that she was just as beautiful as any other girl out there--which in this case was true--before she proceeded any further.

So, Bethany began by simply complimenting Meredith, as she already had been doing, but now with greater specificity on what she felt were her pretty attributes. “Your nose is so small and cute. It’s a perfect nose. What nice, clear blue eyes you have, too. They just sparkle. You could stand to have your eyebrows more arched, and thicker and darker… Definitely some nice darkness and color around your eyes… You have a nice, even face shape... Chin not too big and not too little, but just right... Your smile is wonderful… Such cute little dimples… Your teeth are straight and white... You must have had a good dentist…”

“Yes...we did.”

“And your lips are so perfectly-formed and dainty-looking.” And so kissable looking, too... “That dark maroon color you’re wearing is a perfect choice, too. Very dramatic and eye-catching. I really like it. You should keep using dark, bold shades.” I bet she drives her girlfriend crazy with her lips like that…that is, if they’re girlfriends. Hmmm… I wonder if those two have ever...kissed… “Although today...I might just try something different……. And your skin...it’s so...so soft-looking...” That was Bethany’s lead in to the topic on her mind now. The moment the cosmetologist mentioned skin, she noticed her client’s face flush a little and her body language become stiffer, confirming to her that she was on the right track and that she had to tread lightly and tactfully.

“So, Meredith...um...let’s say you had to pick one thing about your appearance you don’t like, one thing you’d like to change more than any other, if you could...what...what would that b--?”

“My FRECKLES!!!”

“Oh…” Bethany feigned surprise, but she wasn’t. She only wanted her client to be the one to say it. “What about them?”

“I HATE them!!” The redhead spat out that exclamation with a lifetime of pain behind it, and cringed at them having been brought up, although it was Meredith who had done so, not Bethany.

“Really? Well, you’re very cute, even with them…”

“Thank you, that’s nice of you to say that, but we both know it’s not true. I’ve always wanted to be able to just wish them away...but…” Meredith’s voice trailed off in disappointment. “...but...there’s no way… I’m stuck.” It was apparent that Meredith’s self-image had been and maybe still was that of a defective appearance, despite her prettiness, one limited and tarnished by her freckles, at least in her own mind, and quite possibly also by the unkind opinion of others perhaps expressed about them in the past..

“Well, Meredith. In my opinion they’re not that bad and they don’t stop you from looking really good.”

“You think so?” Meredith nervously asked.

“Absolutely sweetie! They may not look good on everyone, but they do on you. They’re not that prominent, anyway. I imagine they’ve faded since your childhood. They’re not enough to be dominant, but they are just enough to be cute. You put it all together, and you have a very, very pretty face. I just don’t see any significant flaws. I’m sure you probably had to bat the boys off with a stick!” Bethany said as she flashed Meredith a friendly smile, Meredith noticing how straight and white the beauty’s teeth were.

Bethany’s speculation almost made Meredith laugh out loud, it was so far from the truth. But it made her reflect a bit on her past social life, or the lack thereof. A measure of melancholy swept over her as she recalled that none of the boys in her high school ever bothered to ask her out, nor did any hardly ever even take notice of her, and, when they did, it was only to join cruel girls in taunting her for her deficiencies. However, as Meredith reviewed those painful recollections while sitting in Bethany’s chair, Meredith realized that what boys had thought of her then or now didn’t matter to her, that boys were gross, that she found nothing interesting about them, that she couldn’t think of even one boy whom she knew or had known who appealed to her, and that her freckles, flat profile, and whatever other defects she had had actually saved her from having had to date them. What an agony that would have been...as if she would ever debase herself by trying to gain the attention of and go out with a boy! No way! A sense of relief filled her, that she had never had to play that game.

“Not really. I...I guess you could say I was something of a late bloomer… I suppose there were advantages of being left alone by the boys in high school...except those times I was teased mercilessly… That...that wasn’t fun… So...yeah...I hate my freckles… I’d do anything to get rid of them.”

“I can help you.”

“What...what do you mean, Bethany?”

“I know how a girl like you can get rid of her freckles.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Are you just kidding me? Because…”

“Meredith, there are ways. Here’s what they are. First, stay out of the sun and use products with a sunblock of an SPF no less than 50--30 at the bare minimum, and maybe as high as 70 might be better--on your face, arms, hands, and legs. Maybe on your shoulders and chest, too, depending on what you’re wearing. We all have a pigment, melanin, in our skin naturally. Like me, I’m very natural, all over! But a freckle is simply a place in the skin where that pigment has clustered. Some people, like you, are genetically more prone to freckles, but it is the UV light in sunlight that actually makes them form. Sunblock won’t reverse freckles, but blocking that UV light will stop more from forming, or the ones you have from getting worse. So that’s the first step. Stop them from getting worse.

“Freckles tend to fade with time. Have you noticed that?”

“Yes. I don’t have nearly as many freckles as I did, oh, five to ten years ago.”

“So that’s your first strategy. Wait them out, and in the meantime protect your skin from UV. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Second: There are procedures dermatologists and plastic surgeons use. The most effective type uses lasers, basically, to zap freckles. That is the fastest way to do it, and it is very effective. You should go online sometime and look up before and after pictures. They’ll amaze you. The downside is it’s not cheap, and takes, oh, three to six sessions or so, I think, over a few months, to get rid of them all. There’s also chemical peels.

“I know a plastic surgeon who does this kind of thing. He also does breast augmentation, if you’re ever interested. Let me give you his card.” Bethany once again turned around, this time exaggerating the protrusion of her rear end, knowing quite well that Meredith would be checking her out again, and wanting to have a little fun with her, before turning back and handing her client the card. “His normal rates are sky high, and most of his clientele are rich ladies who can afford it. But he gives a student discount. He likes young people, likes making a difference in their lives if he can, and I’ve heard sometimes he does a freebie or two. I can call his office, if you like, and tell them about you, or you could call.”

“Oh, Bethany. Wow. I can’t believe it. Yeah...if you could...I’d appreciate it so much. Or I might call…”

“All right. I’m glad we’re making some headway. Now...third: Home remedies, like lemon juice, yogurt, honey, and onion, applied to the skin, and commercial fade creams. The home remedies can work with varying degrees of success for some people. As for fade creams, again, the results are mixed. Probably the best kind is called a retinoid. It’s supposed to be pretty good. BUT a new one has just come out, made by Hecate Pharmaceutical, and they say it’s awesome, like a miracle cream. Use it every day, two times a day if you can, and your freckles will be gone in no more than a month! For some people, the results start to get very noticeable within even a few days! How about that?! Wouldn’t work on me, hmmm?... But on you? For sure. I’m going to give you a sample before you go. The tube will last you about four or five days, then you have to buy more. Okay?”

Meredith could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Could it be...that there were actually ways she could beat her freckles...at long last…? That would be a dream come true. And most of all...what would Monica think of having a girlfriend with a normal, freckle-free face?

“However, none of that is going to help you today. My guess is that you’d like to walk out of here without a freckle on your face. After all, this is a makeover, isn’t it? Well...let’s make you over. Let’s make a whole new you, shall we?”

“But, Bethany... I mean, YES! I’d love that. But how…?

“That leads us to the fourth way to attack freckles: makeup! One type of makeup is called foundation. And there's concealer. You don’t know about any of that, do you?” Bethany had figured out that Meredith was a complete novice, almost, to the secrets of beauty common to most other women. The redhead shook her head no, cutely.

Bethany motioned to two women in their twenties, dressed in uniforms similar to Bethany’s, who were within range of Bethany’s sight, and soon they entered the cubicle. “Meredith, while I do my thing on you, Yolanda and Sylvia here are going to give you a pedicure and a manicure. Let’s see those nails… Hmmm… I like how long they are, but they definitely need shaping. Girls, do a number three shape on the fingernails, and, let’s see, a...a number twenty-four on the polish, I think will be nice. Meredith, hon, just drop your hands to the side and relax them and your feet. They’ll do everything else. Okay?” The redhead responded affirmatively as the nail specialists brought their care kits into a convenient position and sat down on low stools next to the chair. Yolanda started on a hand, while Sylvia began on a foot.

“Well...time for me to work my magic. As the old saying goes, ‘There’s no time like the present.’ Let’s get started!” Bethany reclined her client most of the way back and sat on a high stool next to her, but out of Yolanda’s way, so that she would be hovering more or less above the redhead as she worked, looking down at her. All the while her face was no more than one foot or so from Meredith’s. It was not hard for Bethany to see that Meredith hardly ever took her eyes off of her face, hair, and breasts. They often made eye contact and smiled at each other.

Bethany took a cleansing wipe from her workstation and began to gently remove the makeup that Meredith initially had on off her face, apologizing for having to remove her beautiful dark lipstick. Next, Bethany took out a small tube of cream, applied a glob to her fingers, and began to rub it into the skin of Meredith’s face, cleaning Meredith’s face thoroughly with the premium-grade cleanser. Then, she extracted the few small pimples and blackheads on the redhead’s face, which was followed by rubbing the facial skin with an enzymatic exfoliation cream.

She next used an eyelash curler to curl the eyelashes. Then she plucked the eyebrows, removing stray hairs, defining the borders, and arching the brows to give them a new shape, one that was both ultra-feminine and somewhat wicked-looking, as well. Bethany removed any other stray facial hairs and fuzz, too, although there was not a lot of that, but the cute redhead now had a perfectly smooth facial surface. Then the cosmetologist applied toner all over the face, followed by a light moisturizer with potent sunblock of a 70 SPF value.

At every step of the way, Bethany explained what she was doing and various techniques she was employing, and held up the various containers she was using so that Meredith could see them. She named each one and extolled its virtues and discussed its uses, giving Meredith several skin care brand and product line recommendations and assuring her that she would make a little bag for Meredith to take with her which would have coupons for every product she was using and recommending, as well as some samples, such as the fade cream she had mentioned earlier. She also told Meredith that a full facial, which she could return for any time, would include a steam treatment, a facial massage, and a masque, in addition to the steps she was having in today’s partial facial.

Bethany then described what she was going to do next and showed and described what makeup products she recommended for Meredith and was going to use on her, telling her that she would be putting some nail polish, lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, eyebrow pencil, blush, and foundation into another bag, so they would be set aside for Meredith to buy, any or all of them, as she left the salon this day, if she wanted to.

Bethany repeated and added to her earlier tips about giving her fair skin, which could easily be damaged by the sun, protection with a good SPF moisturizer or foundation, and explained how a properly-selected, high-quality foundation could mask over her freckles and other imperfections. Meredith made a small passing joke about her Irish ancestors not being folks that did well under the sun, which got a small giggle from Bethany. Meredith found the sound of the amused reaction from Bethany to be alluring and delightful. The two girls smiled into each other’s eyes for several seconds.

Next Bethany reviewed and suggested certain specific foundations that would complement her skin’s undertones and make her freckles vanish, pulled out a color chart from one of the drawers in her workstation, holding it next to her face, and suggested foundation colors that were either bluish (cool), yellowish (warm), or neutral, advising her to avoid products too sheer to cover up her freckles. The beautician also mentioned powder which was available to apply over the liquid foundation, but told her she was going to only use the liquid foundation today and see what effect they got.

Now that Meredith’s skin was clean and prepared, Bethany commenced her artwork on the blank canvas before her, first applying the liquid foundation she had chosen evenly all over Meredith’s face, followed by concealer over a couple of blemishes that showed through the foundation. Next came mascara applied thick, heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow, blush, and a dark reddish-brown brow pencil. As the crowning touch, Bethany applied layer after layer of brilliant lipstick, doing so with her face close to Meredith’s and with both young women eyeing each other intensely. Bethany applying lipstick to Meredith’s lips became a charged, erotic act. It would have seemed that a kiss between them was imminent, if only the two manicurists had not been right there, inhibiting them from trying anything like that.

Bethany next addressed Meredith’s hair. “I know you’re not here to do your hair, but, just the same, let’s have a little look. Do you mind if I take your ponytail out?” Meredith indicated she did not mind, so Bethany pulled Meredith’s hair band out. When her hair was down and Bethany fluffed it out, Bethany nodded in approval. “Oh, that’s such a cute cut and style, baby. You have good taste. Let’s see what I can do with it.”

She decided to leave Meredith’s hair mostly alone, liking its basic style, and changing it wasn’t really her department, anyway, nor had the redhead come in today for a hair makeover, either. Nevertheless, the cosmetologist did some things--parting, combing, styling, and brushing the whole, including the bangs, a little differently than Meredith normally did it, which added a bit more shine, bounce, volume, and style, and adding more curl. She was tempted to add more blonde highlights, many more, and then surprising her client, but knew she didn’t have the time, and hair cutting, styling, and coloring weren’t her provinces within the salon, at least not yet, due to her junior status there--although they could be on an individual basis, if she got permission, and she was quite interested and talented in those skills--nor would it be easy to hide such an activity from Meredith enough to surprise her.

As the nail specialists finished and then left, Bethany showed Meredith some more color charts and more products that the salon carried that she felt would look marvelous on her, and gave her some tips and guides on how to maximize their usage to the fullest. Bethany’s job was, first and foremost, to sell the products and services of the salon, and she was good at it. Meredith would leave laden with cosmetics and skin-care products and lots of ideas for treatments she might want on a return visit.

Then came the moment of truth as Bethany turned the chair to face the large mirror at her station. What Meredith saw floored her. There was no trace of the geekish, froppish girl to be seen anywhere in the reflection staring back at Meredith. In her place was a dramatically lovely young woman who exuded sexual charm. About the same time, Monica, who had just come back from a small facial treatment and manicure of her own, and paying for them, caught Meredith’s reflection. She, too, was stunned by Meredith’s new look.

Both girls started from the top down. Meredith’s already pretty hair looked even cuter, shinier, fuller, curlier, and bouncier. Her eyebrows looked enchanting, as they never had before--full, shaped, arched, and darker, with a dark reddish-brown tint--as if all she had to do was just crook an eyebrow and she could tempt anyone, or any woman, to be exact. Below them, her eyelids were painted a charming seashell blue which, with Bethany’s skillful application, transitioned into a faded green coloring, and the edges were lined heavily with a thick, dark, black eyeliner, giving a seductive effect. Meredith’s long eyelashes were curled, thick, and vibrant with a skillful application of black mascara, and were more prominent and enticing than ever before. At this point, Meredith playfully twitched her nose at her reflection and gave it a playful smile, before visually exploring the rest of her new look. Her cheeks had on a gentle touch of peach-colored blush. But it was her dainty lips which drew the most admirable notice, heavily painted as they were with several layers of a vibrant orange-red color. Also, her fingernails, which Meredith had decided to start growing out over the last few weeks without really knowing how to care for them, were starting to take on an elegant shape. If Meredith took time to properly care for them and maintained the necessary grooming habits associated with healthy nail care. It wouldn’t be long before they took on that dangerous-looking, hard, longish almond shape with sharp, pointy tips that she had long desired but for now they looked gorgeous after Bethany had painted them with glistening, glossy orange-red color, thus matching her toes and lips.

Perhaps the most striking feature, however, was what wasn’t there. Freckles. Not a one. Her skin looked perfectly smooth and flawless. It was the first time in her life she or anyone else had seen her, or even been able to visualize her, without freckles. All signs of the ugly duckling had completely disappeared. Only a swan remained.

“I-I’m b…” Meredith tried to force her opinion out, but was so stunned by the reflection of the heavenly beauty staring back at her, that she couldn’t.

“...beautiful,” Monica completed her friend’s sentence for her, and, having approached closer, placed a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. In turn, Meredith placed her own hand on top of Monica’s and reciprocated with an affectionate squeeze of her own.

“So,” Bethany eagerly asked, “what do you think? How do you like it?”

“I LOVE it! I...I can’t believe that...that this is me!” Meredith giggled as she continued looking narcissistically into the mirror, unable to tear her eyes away, turning her head this way and that. “Bethany, I...I just want to thank you for doing this. I never knew I could look like this. Wow!” This is me, the real me...the one who’s been hiding under the mask of an insecure girl who prefers to spend her time with fantasy and make-believe, instead of trying to make herself look beautiful. I don’t think I can ever go back to being that girl ever again, Meredith thought to herself as she inspected her new appearance with loving admiration.

“No problem, sweetie. Here...let me get you a few of the things I talked about,” Bethany offered before walking around the front part of the salon, picking out a number of products, including a variety of lipsticks and nail polishes, and every other kind of product she had used on and recommended to Meredith this day, as well, putting them in bags, and dropping them off at the sales counter. Returning to her station, she addressed Meredith. “Hon, do you have any questions?”

“Uh...no...I don’t think so. But thanks so much again.”

“You’re very welcome. So...here’s my card. If you do have any questions, or you need anything else, feel free. Okay? Alright, let’s go ring you up, doll. Follow me, you two.” Bethany led them to the sales desk, explained the costs of the services, and gave Meredith her options for buying none, some, or all of the products she had gathered for her.

Like before, Monica paid for the makeover and the products--all of them--that Bethany had offered Meredith. Meredith offered only token resistance, reasoning that a beautiful woman like her deserved to be pampered and treated like a queen. As far as she was concerned, what Monica was doing was natural justice and her proper entitlement. It was life’s way of making up for all the torment and abuse she had had to endure in her teenage years.

“Well, I appreciate you stopping by, and please feel free to come back,” Bethany said with more sincerity and warmth than the default courteous tone sales people usually seem to use.

“Well, if they have a beauty like you working here, I think I just might take you up on that offer,” Meredith responded back, her comment dipped in her best charming, sexually seductive voice.

Tilting her head a little and staring Bethany in the eyes mischievously, after first scanning over the cosmetologist’s breasts with unveiled interest one last time, Meredith took the shopping bag from Bethany. In doing so, she gently grazed her index finger over the soft, smooth skin of the black woman’s hand and, not fully aware of exactly what she was doing and of the homosexual nature of her motives and feelings, but understanding that she was attracted to the exotic cosmetologist, that she wanted to let her know that, and that she wanted to see her again, flashed a flirtatious smile to the cute cosmetologist who had brought to light the sexual charms Meredith now believed had always been the essence of the true her.

Even though Bethany knew that Meredith had been ogling her non-stop, and had used it for her benefit in trying to work a better tip out of the red-head, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty leading Meredith along, and was aware that the redhead might possibly be into girls, more specifically her companion Monica and traded some little flirtations over the course of Meredith’s visit, which Bethany had thought were innocent, harmless, and meaningless, for she often established rapport with her clients with playful, inconsequential, flirty banter and touches, it was now more obvious to her that Meredith was really coming on to her. Bethany suddenly realized that she might have been sending the girl the wrong signals and wasn’t so sure that she welcomed the kind of attention that Meredith was giving her. Worried Bethany now began to panic a little and was mentally looking for ways to gently let Meretih know that she isn’t that receptive to entering a relationship with her The cosmetologist felt she should be flattered, glad her looks and her body were sufficient to attract such a young woman, but, Bethany found the situation a bit alarming. After all...while she was bi. She wasn’t interested in Meredith like that, and now looking to get out of this predicament without causing a scene.

Meredith saw that Bethany looked to be a bit uncomfortable, if not bewildered, with this last flirtation, but Meredith concluded that maybe it was because they didn’t know each other very well, a situation Meredith told herself she would like to correct sometime. Her corrupted mind reasoned that it was okay to flirt with women she found attractive, even if they gave no indication that they were into women. Her subconscious suggested that if she stopped by a few more times and spoke with the charming vixen, then maybe she could encourage Bethany into having a very fun, in-depth, girl-on-girl session. If she had never been with a girl before, no problem; Meredith could help her overcome whatever qualms she might have.

But wanting to make sure their last interaction was a positive one, Meredith apologized for being forward, explaining it was only because Bethany was so cute and sweet, complimented her on her cosmetological skills, thanked her again for her wonderful treatment, stated she hoped to see her again, left a generous tip, and said goodbye, departing with a radiant, cute, dimpled smile which was calculated to put Bethany at ease and win her affection.

Bethany stood at the counter, seeming a little lost, and a bit relieved watching Meredith and Monica leave. She saw the two, as they walked through the door, taking each other’s hand, and Meredith turned her head back to flash her charming, flirtatious smile again, while giving a cute little good-bye wave. Bethany couldn’t help but mentally say “I knew it” as Meredith’s actions seemed to have confirmed her suspicions about the red-head and mentally think I wonder if Monica knows what she’s getting into with that girl concerned that Meredith’s actions could one day lead to breaking Monica’s heart.

After leaving the cosmetics salon, Meredith was just amazed by how much of a confidence booster a makeover could be and by how much attention she drew. Unlike any time in her life before, the guys she passed were now, almost without exception, either sneaking glances at her or ogling her frankly. While she noticed their reactions to her new beauty, and did so with a certain sensation of vindication and gleeful retaliation, for some odd reason attention from the guys didn’t please her otherwise. She found that she didn’t care about their opinions and, rather, felt a bit of revulsion in their interest. She wondered about that briefly before letting it skip from her mind, it seeming to be a rather insignificant matter.

On the other hand, as she passed various girls and women, she noticed that some of them were eyeing her, as well. She found that those stares were putting her in a good mood. While not every woman Meredith and Monica came across was a closet lesbian who looked at her with lust, Meredith did get several smiles and looks of unmistakable attraction and, even, carnal interest from a number of the ladies that they did pass by. Not quite aware of what she was doing, Meredith responded back at them with a knowing smile, indicating that she acknowledged and welcomed their interest and, in some cases, their leering glances. Two or three females turned their heads back in her direction after they had passed for another look at her, none of which went unnoticed by the redhead, who in one of those instances also turned around to give the woman another view and another encouraging smile.

Meredith felt invigorated. She had never been the center of attention because of her looks before in her life, and she was basking in the glory. If cosmetics could do this for her, she was never going to go without them again! She wondered about how much her red hair, streaked as it was with blonde, contributed to the interest she was garnering, and wondered what effect she would have if she did something more with her hair color. She also wondered how much of a role her tight, black, belly-exposing clothes were playing, and how many more heads she could turn if she were more provocative in her attire, like if she wore a very short miniskirt and heels, and maybe paired with a braless look. But almost an equal factor in her ebullient mood was her happiness to be out with a beautiful woman like Monica. It was no small source of pride, gratification, and pleasure to be with her in public, as her companion, and now, as an equal...or, perhaps it could even be said, as one who not only matched her, but possibly even surpassed her now in beauty and charm.

Meredith was so wrapped up in her own new look and the attention she was reaping because of it, that she had failed, for the time being, to take a good look at Monica and to realize that she, Meredith, was not the only one being followed by awestruck eyes, but that Monica was shining gloriously next to her, as well, not to mention the fact that two very pretty girls holding hands while walking through a mall, which they barely noticed they were doing, was also raising some eyebrows.

Monica, as she had mentioned to Meredith, had also gotten a partial facial, a manicure, and a pedicure. Her beautician was Cindy, a twenty-seven-year-old married mother of two small children, who had more seniority in the salon than Bethany and thus was permitted to do all treatments they offered. Cindy, a lanky brunette, was Monica’s “regular” beautician and knew Monica fairly well. She was reconciled to the Latina’s temperamental disposition and the super-confident way she always seemed to know what she wanted and declined most offers of advice, Monica’s generous tips compensating for her independent and demanding personality. Monica found Cindy ever competent, patient, unobtrusive, and likeable, and the two got along well.

As Cindy started with the young Latina on this day, however, she noticed something different about her disposition, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But the coed seemed a bit less sure of herself, less opinionated, less insistent, easier-going, and more open to suggestion. And, it became clearer over this session, that the lass cared quite a bit about the opinions of her roommates, as if she wanted to please them, one of them in particular, a girl named Meredith, who, Monica, said, was there getting a “treat” makeover with Bethany, and of whom Monica spoke in glowing terms...almost as if Monica had a giddy crush on her...which Cindy was sure wasn’t the case, since Monica had always come across as solidly straight.

Since the facial cleansed her face of the makeup she had worn in, Cindy had reapplied makeup. Sensing her client might be open to something different and noticing both the deeper blacker black and the slight bluish sheen of her hair, which apparent experimentation confirmed to Cindy that Monica could indeed be ready to try some new looks, she had made of few cosmetic suggestions, and they had agreed on a metallic bluish silver for her lips and nails, eyeshadows combining dark gray, silver, and cobalt blue, matching her blouse, to go along with navy blue mascara and eyeliner, and a touch of reddish blush on her cheeks. SInce Monica’s skin was perfectly smooth and free of blemishes, Cindy saw no need for foundation. As she had changed Monica’s facial color scheme, she proposed a color on her nails to match her lips, to which Monica agreed.

While Cindy filed Monica’s nails, she became curious about the slight bluish tone to Monica’s black hair, and asked about it.

“Oh, that? Uh...to tell you the truth...I’m not sure where it came from… Do you like it?”

“Oh, yeah, I love it. I wish I would have been the one to think of it and to do it for you. Do you know what would look great? Go a little further...like, make it really blue. For example...make it unmistakably blue-black...or a midnight blue...or sapphire blue...or lighter, like a medium denim blue..or even a pale icy blue…”

“Really? Wow… You think I’d look good?” The wheels were now rolling in Monica’s mind.

“Fantastic.”

“Cindy...what...what do you think I’d look like...as...as a blonde?”

Cindy was a little surprised Monca was actually interested in this kind of conversation, as she never had been in the past. But, if the girl was, for some reason, open to changing her appearance radically in ways she never had seemed to be before, Cindy was game to jumping in and having her say.

“Monica, you would look stunning as a blonde!”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. Definitely. Are you seriously considering it?”

“Well...uh...I...I don’t know… But it’s been crossing my mind…”

“As long as you’re thinking about changes, have you ever considered red hair?”

“Oh! Yeah! I LOVE red hair. My pretty roommate Meredith has red hair…and I love it. It’s kind of...of a medium-dark auburn…you know?”

“I think I do…” Cindy pulled out a hair color chart, as Bethany had done with Meredith. “Like...like this?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that just the most wonderful hair color ever?”

“Yes. It’s very nice, and you’d look very good with it. Here’s another...it’s called ‘Wine Red’...”

“Oh, yeah. That’s very pretty, too.”

“And this one…’Pure Scarlet’…”

“Oooo...yeah…”

“You’d be a great redhead, Monica.”

“Thank you, Cindy… Oh, I like this one, too.” Monica pointed to a rich dark coffee color in the brown section. “My mother has hair like that.”

“Yeah… I can see that on you, too… Nice…

“In fact, here,” Cindy pulled out a Cosmopolitan magazine, with the issue devoted largely to Kim Kardasian and her many looks, “let me show you some examples.” She flipped through some pages. “So...here...this is Kim Kardasian… You know her, right?... She kind of looks like you, you know? Anyway, this is her with her natural hair, which is kind of a brown black…” Kardasian’s body was encased in a backless minidress of pale pink leather…. “And, then, this is after she went blonde the first time…” The woman depicted had caramel dark-blonde locks, her extremely curvaceous body being exhibited in a red micro swimsuit. “And this is her after she went all the way…” This time, Kardasian’s hair was a stunning white blonde. She wore a long, silvery transparent dress, covered with a scattering of silver sequins. Underneath she wore a very visible silver g-string, but no bra.

“Wow!”

“Wow is right. You’re just as beautiful as she is. If she can do it, so can you.... Here she is with a medium-dark brown color…” Monica froze. The photo could have been of her mother, Isabella, except Kardasian was in a skin-tight navy blue body stocking, which Isabella would never wear in public. “She had dark blue hair for a while...like this…” Kardasian was again braless and wore a long-sleeved blouse of sheer gold mesh and an equally sheer bronze miniskirt, but with no panties underneath. “And here she is recently with light-brown hair.” A loose black silk halter dress plunged to her pierced naval, leaving her melon-sized breasts on nearly complete display. “Hot, isn’t she?”

Monica had never paid more than passing attention to Kim Kardasian, but knew who she was. The Latina had, in fact, not been one to follow celebrities much, and looking at beautiful women in magazines had never been of interest to her...until this moment. Cindy had no idea that her client was having a completely different reaction to the photos of Kim Kardasian than she was. There was “hot”, as Cindy meant it--that is, “cosmetically superior”--and then there was “hot”, as Monica was perceiving it, meaning “extremely sexually arousing” or “rightful object of boiling lust”. Cindy was evaluating Kardasian from a beautician’s point of view, not paying much attention to her body and clothes, whereas Monica was seeing every alluring detail of the celebrity, especially her body, and doing so with the eyes and emotions of a lesbian.

The magazine Cindy had showed her had reved Monica’s motor to the red line. At her first opportunity, Monica was going to look Kim Karadian up on the internet. Little did either woman foresee that this was the beginning of Monica having a big-time crush on the celebrity, and then on many other female celebrities, and of a new obsession with publications and websites featuring daring, provocative fashion, models, cosmetics, celebrities, popular culture, cheesecake, yuri-themed manga, female-centric comics, and the like, which, ere long, would branch out into an unquenchable thirst for outright pornography--books, magazines, graphic novels, videos, and online material--as long as it revolved around beautiful women and lesbian love.

“Yes...she is…” Monica replied wistfully. “Oh...look at...look at her rear! Is...is that real?!”

“Yes, and she’s well known for it.”

Ay, ay, ay, ay ,ay, ay, ay…

“Oh, and lately she has gotten more daring yet. Here she is with deep purple hair…….and here with pastel blue hair.” In the first set of photos, she was in a long, figure-hugging, sequined purple evening gown and, in the second, in a strappy minidress showing a lot of skin between the straps, her light blue, blunt-cut hair shoulder-length, straight, and parted in the middle..

WOW!… She’s...she’s AMAZING!... Monica had to pause, gulp, let her heartbeat slow down a little, and collect herself before she reacted verbally. “Uh...wow… Cindy...you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Good. You just let me know when you’re ready for a change. Now, let’s finish your nails, then do your face, then I’ll do something with your hair.”

Something I hope Meredith likes, Monica thought. Maybe something like...like Kim Kardasian.

Before Monica left, Cindy had put her client’s long, lush, dark hair up in a half ponytail and given it lots of new loose curls, waves, and thickness. She had also suggested colors of lipstick and polish that Monica had never tried before, including a matte black named Devil’s

Kiss, a very dark reddish black called Black Cherry Supreme, an ultra pale, frosty pink called Pink Lemonade, and a deep metallic blue called Cobalt Extreme. When Monica said she wanted to buy them all, Cindy bagged them and rang Monica up, before Monica went over to see how her roommate-girlfriend was doing, after which Meredith had been the center of attention, which Monica felt was rightfully so. While Monica did overhear Meredith coming on to Bethany at the check-out desk, she made nothing of it, except for experiencing a spurt of jealousy, but then finding her roommate all the cuter for it, and being glad to see her roommate getting out of her shell and enjoying herself with another woman. No one deserved that more, she reflected.

After browsing in a few more stores, Monica and Meredith stopped by a small bistro cafe in the mall to grab a bite to eat. Still in a good mood, Meredith insisted that this time she be the one to pay for both their meals.

Placing their respective orders, Meredith and Monica sat across from each other at a small table near a large, floor-to-ceiling window that peered out into the mall walkway, Monica with her back to the window and Meredith facing it. Having the opportunity to sit across from Meredith and have a nice, long look at her now, Monica couldn’t help but feel a little smitten with her roommate’s look. Her theory had proven correct. Her geekish friend had become an absolute hottie after some skillful application of and techniques with cosmetics. She was enamored with this Meredith. She made a mental note that, after seeing Meredith looking like a smoking hot babe after her makeover, thus confirming her suspicions, she had to encourage her redhaired friend to keep up with her new cosmetic regimen. If given a choice, she preferred this Meredith over the geekish version who just used the bare minimum of cosmetics, or none. It wasn’t that she found the geekish version of her friend unattractive, as Hecate had altered Monica’s mind to regard those similar to Meredith’s body type, interests, and style to be alluring and interesting, but, if she were to be given a choice, she would still like to see that type of young woman dolled up and maximizing her looks through the aid of cosmetics and other beauty aids.

Monica barely touched her soup and salad, which were lost in her fascination with the girl sitting across from her. Doing little more with her food than poking at it now and then with her fork or spoon, she rested her elbows on the table with her chin cradled in the palms of her hands, staring at her alluring friend and drinking in her presence, while letting out an occasional soft, contented sigh, as she found herself becoming smitten. Monica was completely unaware that her posture and actions could be easily construed by anyone in that cafe observing her and Meredith that she was infatuated with Meredith--which she was, but she wouldn't want that fact to go pubic, neither would she quite admit that to herself, yet--and that she and Meredith were actually on a romantic date--which, in fact, they very much were, one on which they were falling for each other more by the hour, whether they accepted those facts fully yet or not--and not one in which her main purpose was to try to simply improve her friendship with Meredith, as she had told herself repeatedly.

“Nerd girl ... “ Monica softly whispered as she continued her loving gaze at Meredith, who was concentrating on eating more than Monica was.

“Did you say something, Monica?” Meredith asked while looking up, having just heard her friend make a sound.

“Oh… I-it’s n-nothing, nothing at all. Heh… heh.” Monica said with a nervous laugh, embarrassed that her girlfriend almost caught her staring at her. Girlfriend.

“You okay? You barely touched your meal.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Just… you know… don’t worry about me,” Monica said, trying to deflect Meredith’s inquiry, finishing her response with another nervous chuckle and quickly shoveling some of her salad into her mouth in hopes of convincing Meredith that all was fine.

“Okay. If you say so,” Meredith responded, as she gave Monica a confused, worried look of concern. Her pretty roommate seemed distracted, and had not chatted much with her since they had started eating. Was she unhappy about something? Were her thoughts elsewhere, even though they were on a date? Or...could it be...that she was overwhelmed with the new Meredith? She thought she had noticed Monica staring at her instead of eating, which gave her a sharp thrill, but she wasn’t sure, so she didn’t pursue it. Still...if she could captivate a beauty like Monica...if she could make such a girl speechless...wow…

Meredith had already had her turn getting lost in Monica. After their server had brought their menus, Monica had focused on the menu, while Meredith had taken the opportunity to get her first good look at the new Monica. As she stared, Meredith felt her heart gyrate madly in her chest. She imagined little red hearts floating in the air between them, as manga artists often draw in when one character finds herself falling in love with another. Meredith ran her eyes voraciously over her girlfriend’s hair, face, and breasts, not stopping until the Latina looked up, caught her in the act, smiled at her, determined that Meredith didn’t know what she wanted to order, offered to order for them both, and did so, after which Meredith told her Latina companion how hot she looked, trying not to gush too giddily, and Monica returned a similar compliment. While they were waiting for their order, the two took turns taking stealthy, affectionate, bewitched looks at each other, sometimes their eyes meeting and holding the gaze silently and intensely, with smiles and blushes. When Meredith thought she could get away with it, she dwelled on her friend’s blouse and breasts, and Monica likewise scanned over the redhead’s cropped shirt and breasts frequently, as well. But then, while Meredith ate, it was Monica’s turn to feast on her date without much interruption.

Monica breathed a sigh of relief as Meredith backed off from her inquiry. The Latina was feeling a series of conflicting emotions tearing at her, and she didn’t want to have another emotional breakdown in front of Meredith like she had had earlier in the day. She was relieved that Meredith hadn’t pressed the issue and hadn’t caught her secretly admiring her friend; yet, at the same time, Monica felt disappointed, for a part of her wanted Meredith to catch her in the act of admiring her. For reasons unknown to her, Monica found herself wanting to admit that she found Meredith sexually attractive and that she had feelings, maybe deep ones, for the redhaired vixen sitting in front of her, wanting to admit them fully not only to herself, but to confess them to Meredith, as well.

The discovery of these urges led to another source of turmoil. She had no idea why she was starting to find Meredith attractive. She knew that she wasn’t gay...but did straight girls have feelings for another girl like she did for Meredith? So far she had chalked them up to her desire to improve her relationship with the woman she aptly nicknamed “nerd girl” and to get to know her better. She rationalized them as sentiments natural to an expanding friendship. But there was something far back in the recesses of her mind that told her that this wasn’t true, that she did indeed have romantic feelings for Meredith, and that it would only be a matter of time before she succumbed to them. Thus, her attraction to Meredith as more than a friend was the other thing that concerned Monica. Were they headed to a romantic relationship? Were they even already in one? What would that mean for them?

And if they ended up “together” like that--and that was no foregone conclusion, as far as Monica’s rational side was concerned, despite the persuasions of her emotions--if she and Meredith were to hook up in a romantic way, then how would the relationship work? Who would be in charge? Naturally Monica assumed that, like her mother, she would be the one calling the shots in whatever relationship she was in. That was the way and the right of Morales women. Yes...let’s just say she ever did entertain the idea, the ludicrous idea, of entering a lesbian relationship with Meredith, it would be her redhead friend who should be the one listening to her and obeying her.

Yet--thanks to the mental manipulations of Hecate--that idea somehow just didn’t feel right, and had not felt right over the past few days. On the contrary, the idea of letting a woman like Meredith--a beautiful, sexy woman--control , manipulate, and subjugate her was oddly very appealing. In sensing that, Monica reasoned that there would be advantages in surrendering control, such as that she wouldn’t have to carry the burden of responsibility for decisions, nor would she have to deal with various administrative details of such a relationship, leaving her free to focus on the finer details of life, such as making sure she always looked sexy, having meals ready for her beloved, and being ready at every moment to offer up her body to her lover, aspects of a relationship which would be much more suitable for a woman like herself than would leadership functions.

The more she thought about it, the more natural it struck her that she should defer a majority of the relationship’s control to a stunning beauty like Meredith. Monica had always viewed beauty and sexiness to be the chief criteria in judging a girl’s worth, superiority, and right to get her way, and it was now plain that Meredith had those qualities in abundance. To follow and submit to such a girl would be the only sensible course for Monica. Before she knew it, within a few minutes her vision of her future with Meredith had progressed, spurred on by her recent exposure to Hecate brainwashing, from one in which their relationship would be neither particularly permanent nor sapphic, and one to be rightfully led by Monica, to an enduring one laden with romantic and sexual implications and purposes and dominated by Meredith.

As Monica continued to focus on this line of future possibility, a naughty fantasy began to take form in her mental landscape.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like the food that I paid for?!” Meredith snapped in an authoritative, disciplinarian manner.

“N-n-no… It’s just that … I’m …” Monica tried to meekly respond.

“Talk about being ungrateful! I spend my hard-earned money to feed you and you just sit there poking it like a spoiled child. The least you can do is shovel it down that whore mouth of yours!” Meredith bellowed in an angry voice. Meredith’s use of the word “whore” to describe her, although she knew it ought to offend her, instead oddly sent a thrill through her.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Meredith,” Monica stuttered apologetically, trying her best to appease the fiery redhead in front of her. I-I didn’t mean to …”

“Enough!” Meredith snapped in a thunderous voice that echoed within the cafe. In doing so, Meredith got up from her seat to reveal a glorious new version of herself to the frightened, subservient Latina who was shivering in fright in front of her.

Meredith had drastically changed her appearance. Instead of wearing the attire she had on a second ago, Meredith was dressed just like the statue which Monica had been ogling and fantasizing about earlier at the comic book shop. Her hair and makeup had also been recolored and restyled to match the superheroine figure. Her feet were encased in glossy, pointy-toed, black leather boots that stopped half an inch below her knees. The center of attention around her mid-section was a black leather panty thong running tightly over her womanhood and between her legs and butt cheeks, fastened by a brass ring on each side, leaving the sensual, creamy skin of Meredith’s seductive thighs, hips, and derriere on display and announcing, as it seemed, the authoritative sexuality of the woman they belonged to. Meredith’s silky smooth lower belly was exposed by the bustier top, which was held tight with criss-cross lacing that ran up the middle. Most conspicuous were Meredith’s breasts, which bulged through the laces and over the top edge of the bustier, straining as they were against their leathery confines, looking so succulent, tempting, and desirable to the timid Hispanic hottie. The redhead’s hands and lower arms were encased in elegant shiny black leather gloves, matching the bustier, that ascended a couple of inches past her elbows . Meredith’s tantalizing red mane, now a fire-engine red color, was up in the same pompadour bun hairstyle as the intriguing statue. Her face, showing no freckles whatsoever, was painted heavily in makeup--skin covered in foundation, lips painted the glossiest of a sinister blood red, and eyelashes thick with deep-black mascara, with matching eyeliner, all of which created an aura of sexual mystery. Overall, Meredith gave off a dominating, sexually wicked vibe that Monica found overwhelming and intoxicating.

Monica’s pulse quickened with arousal as she watched Meredith approach her, drinking in the seductive way Meredith’s hips swayed with each step and the way Meredith’s breasts bounced and shifted as she continued her strut towards the starstruck Monica. By the time she got close, Meredith towered over Monica, who couldn’t help but be in awe of such a dominating figure.

“On your feet, bitch!” Meredith ordered in a cold, menacing tone. In one fluid motion, Meredith grabbed hold of Monica’s right arm, pulled her to her feet, and forcibly spun her around. By the time Monica regained her senses, she realized that she was facing out the window of the cafe with people passing by being able to see her. The redheaded vixen turned Monica toward the table and pushed her forward with a hard shove in her back, which resulted in the black-haired girl being bent over the table at which they had been eating, putting Monica in a very compromising situation. Monica became aware that they were surrounded by feminine-looking shadows, who, apparently titillated by the show, whispered and speculated among themselves about what might happen next.

“Meredith, what’s gotten into …” Monica tried to ask, but before she could complete her question, she felt a firm hand slap her across her bottom, making her yelp. Meredith’s leather-gloved hand remained on her rear.

“Quiet! You only speak if I give you permission to speak. And, as it stands, I don’t recall giving you permission, understand?” The hard, icy demeanor displayed in Meredith’s voice and actions was unlike any Monica had witnessed coming from her before. There were no signs of the timid, sweet geekish girl whom she had known in the authoritative woman standing before Monica. The troubling part was the arousal that Monica felt as Meredith spoke to her and treated her that way. She could feel her nipples stiffen with lust and press hard against the table surface through her blouse and bra. Her aroused pussy quivered with sexual excitement. Her body trembled with desire at being dominated by such a marvelous woman.

Monica was about to stutter some response, but managed to catch herself. Meredith, who had not given her permission to speak, was eyeing her critically, as if daring her to defy her. Instead, Monica just nodded her head in silent agreement that she understood.

“It looks like someone could use a lesson in manners,” Monica’s fantasy Meredith pronounced with wicked glee, while roaming her hands all over the Latina’s rear, and then suddenly grab it and give it a firm squeeze. Monica cooed with delight and thrust more of her ass into Meredith’s eager hands at the attention that it was receiving.

However, that enjoyment was ended, only to be replaced by another, when she felt Meredith’s hands venture underneath her and fumble with the button and zipper of her jeans. Meredith pulled her jeans down and exposed her panty-clad rear to everyone in the cafe and to anyone who was passing by. Then Monica gasped in surprise as she felt Meredith’s fingers work their way under the waistband of her panties and, in one strong, fluid motion, rip the panties off. Her bare bottom was now exposed for everyone to see.

“Spread your legs!” Meredith kicked the Latina’s feet further apart to get her started. “A whore like you doesn’t get to hide her slutty cunt!” Red-faced, but also mysteriously finding pleasure in this sequence of events, Monica complied, opening her legs more. Monica started being able to decipher some of the whispers spoken by the shadowy female figures who filled the cafe.

How shameful… A Morales bent over a table like a common whore...

You can obviously see this girl is no different than a cheap prostitute...

Look, you can see that she’s aroused. Her pussy is wet. She’s getting off on this. What a freak!…

Only a slut would get her jollies from exposing herself in public like this…

Her family must be utterly ashamed that they have a sexual deviant for a daughter…

Looking around at the females filling the cafe and now also assembling outside the window and staring in, Monica found their faces were obscured to the point that she could not recognize any of them, although some of the voices seemed familiar. In any case, Monica could tell that they were all women. Although their faces were blurred and specific details were hard to see, she could tell by their feminine shapes, the sounds of their voices, and an instinctive gut feeling that she was surrounded by women, only women, beautiful women. It was as if all the men had left, which Monica found ideal.

“So...you like showing your pussy off to women, little whore?”

Monica searched her feelings. Yes. This was exciting. It was just fine by her. So she nodded her head.

“I thought so. What a depraved, randy slut you are!”

However, before Monica could give it more thought, she felt a forceful stinging impact against the cheeks of her ass. She yelped in surprise and turned her head to look at her beloved Meredith.

“Hmmm… You like girls looking at you...and you like looking at girls, don’t you? You like looking at me, most of all, hmmm?” Pressing her left hand down against her pantiless captive’s back, the redhead raised her gloved right hand. “But I didn’t say you could!” She rained down another slap across her rear, making Monica wince. “Maybe later. Now, turn back around, you sexy little bitch!”

Soon the sounds of Meredith’s firm hand impacting the cheeks of Monica’s soft, succulent ass filled the cafe. Each time Monica felt Meredith’s hand make contact with her bottom, she made no attempt to escape or stop Meredith from doing what she was doing. Monica could feel her pussy quiver with delight with each swat of her ass, her pulse quickening with desire and lust as she relished the stinging sensation on her bare buttocks. The pleasure rose as she did her best to stay still and allow her friend to continue to spank her.

This went on for a few more moments until, much to Monica’s disappointment, she felt Meredith stop. Monica turned her head again, risking further reprimand, with the intention of pleading with her friend to continue, but this time she saw that Meredith had taken a different position behind her, having squatted down to get a good view of her handy work and of Monica’s privates. Monica could see the top of Meredith’s head.

Monica felt a bolt of pleasure run up her spine and she let out a guttural moan as she felt Meredith rubbing her cheek against the cheeks of her ass. She mewled when she felt Meredith place both her leather-gloved hands on her rear and spread apart the inflamed cheeks of her ass, giving herself an intimate view of her submissive girlfriend’s very aroused and thoroughly soaked pussy.

“Just the way I like my pussy. Warm and wet.” Meredith observed in a smarmy tone. “And whorish.”

Monica could feel Meredith’s warm breath on the fleshy gates of her aroused love tunnel. It was sheer sexual agony. Monica’s urge was to thrust back and grind her ass against Meredith’s face, but with the way Meredith was holding her against the table and inspecting her, she restrained herself, lest she do something to upset her beloved Meredith.

“So what do you say, Monica, bitch? Looks like your pussy is just aching for some attention. Do you want me to give your aching fuck hole some special tender love and care?”

Supposing that she was still under orders not to speak unless given permission, and not wanting to upset her girlfriend, Monica just nodded her head. She felt Meredith's thumbs graze over her pussy lips in response, and then gently pry them apart. Now Monica’s wet and aroused inner depths were exposed to her friend, giving the Latina a sharp thrill. In some way she had never imagined before, as she supposed, this--a girl, and especially her beloved Meredith, exploring her ass and her pussy visually and tactilely--was so right, so perfectly, wonderfully right, and so wickedly good.

“Who does this sexy pussy belong to, Monica? To you...or to me? And yes, I am giving you permission to speak.”

“My...my pussy belongs to..to you, my love.”

“Good. It’s mine from now on. And I’m going to make it into a whore’s pussy. Do you want that, too, Monica? Do you want to be a whore? And call me mistress. I am your superior, you nasty little bitch.”

“Ye--yes, mistress. I...I do want...to be a...a whore.”

“You should, because you’ll make a good one. In fact, that’s all you’re good for. What is the one thing a whore’s pussy is good for, slut?”


Continue to Part 3...