Sandra had a fear that somehow everyone she knew would learn about her, that she would suddenly find herself alone on a stage with a spotlight on her, the audience consisting of friends, family, acquaintances, all staring at her and whispering about her, even smirking at her, since she knew people who would smirk with contempt if they learned she was a lesbian.
Was she a lesbian? She didn't know. A week ago she'd had her first experience with a woman and she was still too confused about it to understand what it meant. All she knew was that she'd enjoyed it, enjoyed it more than anything that had ever happed between her and her husband of twenty years, who had turned out to be so dull and inconsequential she thought every moment they were together a total waste of time.
She had certainly enjoyed sex with Marty, a woman she had met only recently, a woman she hardly knew, but who had swept Sandra off her feet with an intense seduction that had Sandra undressed in Marty's apartment before Sandra fully realized what was happening. Bingo. A few glasses of wine, a few surprising kisses, the clothes are off and she's in bed with another woman. What she never expected was that she would like it so much. And she hadn't just liked it, she had truly adored it.
So was she a dyke? She hated that word. Maybe Marty was a dyke, but not her. Marty, after all, had taken the lead and done everything. Sandra hadn't done much except lie back and let Marty make love to her, suck her down there until Sandra flew to the moon and back several times, suck her so well Sandra's eyes were glazed by the time she went home.
And now she was afraid. She had agreed to see Marty again this very evening, but as she dressed for the date she felt a sudden fear in her chest. What would happen if the people she knew found out? What would happen if her husband found out? He'd probably want a divorce, but she couldn't care less about that, she was now earning enough selling real estate to be rid of him. But if Bert found out, he would certainly tell everyone he knew, which meant nearly everyone she knew, including everyone in his family and her family. She felt she would pass out even thinking about it. But she couldn't pass out now, she had to get her makeup on, had to finish dressing.
Dressing for a lover. Sexy underthings, high heels, a flashy little dress. She had told Bert she was going to dinner with another woman in real estate, someone in upscale real estate who could be useful to her. A total lie, of course, but Bert was too stupid to know the difference, and anyway this was Monday and Bert would have his eyes glued to the television screen and twenty-two Neanderthals running around on a football field.
As she finished painting her lips, Sandra wondered if Marty would like her underwear. Then she told herself that if she kept thinking about Marty like that, she'd have soaked panties before she ever left the house.
Twenty minutes later she said goodbye to Bert, told him she hoped he'd enjoy his football evening, and said he shouldn't worry at all if she was late getting back. "This woman and I will probably have a lot to talk about," Sandra said. She waved at Bert and hurried out the front door to the taxi now waiting for her at the curb.
* * *
She arrived a few minutes early at the restaurant where she'd agreed to meet Marty. She thought of having a drink at the bar, but she hated sitting alone at a bar, so instead she sat on of the chairs near the restaurant entrance. Marty arrived just as Sandra was about to look at her watch, which made Sandra happy because it meant Marty was considerate enough to be punctual.
Sandra thought Marty was a beauty. Marty was six years younger, tall, lean, cropped reddish brown hair that gave her a boyish look, and a superb attractive face. It was Marty's beauty that had made it so easy for Sandra to be seduced. How could she not be dazzled by this lovely woman, so confident in the way she moved and talked and looked? And now they were together again and Sandra was just as dazzled as she'd been the first time. Nothing existed for her except the promise of this evening with Marty.
After greeting each other warmly, Marty kissing Sandra's cheek, they were led to a quiet settee and table in a dimly lit corner of the restaurant.
"Perfect," Marty said. "We can sit next to each other and whisper about everyone around us." She gestured to Sandra to slide onto the curved settee first, and then she followed to sit on Sandra's left, sliding in until they sat close enough to each other to have their knees touch if one or the other moved.
Sandra felt a keen excitement. This was a date, no doubt about that, and she anticipated a sizzling evening.
They ordered their dinners and a bottle of white wine, and after the waiter left, Marty said, "I'm glad you came earlier than I did. I had the pleasure of walking in and seeing you there waiting for me. You look stunning, you know. You're special."
Sandra felt herself blushing. She thought how extraordinary it was to be with another woman on a date like this, to know that after the dinner they would go to Marty's apartment and almost certainly make love. Thinking about that made Sandra quiver with excitement.
They sat so close, that when one turned to say something to the other they could easily kiss. Sandra could smell Marty's scent and it made her dizzy with a yearning to actually kiss Marty's lips and taste her lipstick.
She held herself back. You're going off the deep end, Sandra thought. She hadn't realized how hungry she was for physical contact with this woman. Or maybe she had realized it and had suppressed it. Whatever it might be, here she was sitting beside Marty and wetting her pants before they even had dinner. Then she wondered how it would go. She certainly couldn't take the lead, it had to be Marty. Marty had taken the lead last time and that had to happen again.
"I love your hair," Marty said in a low voice.
"Yes, your hair. It looks wonderful curled around your face like that." Marty chuckled. "You know, the first time I saw you I thought you were too pretty to be approachable and that you'd be a self-centered bitch I could never get to know. How wrong I was!" She laughed again, then leaned over and whispered in Sandra's ear. "You're sweet. You really turn me on. YOu enjoyed the time we had last week, didn't you? Yes you did, I could tell. I'm thinking about it now and it's making me hot."
Sandra blushed, glancing around at the other tables to see if anyone was looking at them. Then she gazed at Marty. The younger woman wore a white silk blouse and black jeans. Sandra thought Marty looked wonderfully sexy. She wondered how long she could sit beside Marty without revealing how eager she was. This restaurant seemed so romantic. So many years had passed since she'd had a romantic evening like this. She and Marty were so different; she had an oval face, while Marty had an angular face with high cheekbones. She thought Marty would look elegant wearing anything, any possible style. Wasn't that the test of true beauty? Sandra fidgeted on her seat, hoping the dinner would pass quickly.
Suddenly, after the main course arrived and the waiter was gone, Sandra felt Marty's hand on her left thigh. She froze, nervous that someone might see them. She felt Marty's fingers dig into her thigh. Then Marty moved her hand toward Sandra's knee, slid the hem of her skirt back and stroked her stocking.
"What are you wearing?" Marty whispered. "Pantyhose?"
"Oh, that's hot. I love stockings. I love your legs."
Sandra was thankful when Marty finally pulled her hand away. Sandra was now certain her panties were soaked. How could they not be? She hadn't been so excited in ages.
Marty kept whispering to Sandra, flirting with her, saying amusing things to make Sandra laugh. Sandra felt an intense yearning that made her tremble.
When they were finished eating, Sandra almost cried out when she felt Marty's hand slide under her upper left arm to touch the side of her breast.
"Yes, of course. We're in a restaurant."
"Come to the ladies room with me before the waiter brings dessert."
"Only if you promise to behave."
Marty laughed. "I promise."
They left the table together, and when they reached the ladies room, Sandra was thankful it was empty. Once the door was closed, Marty said, "Let me see."
"Lift your skirt, silly. Let me see what you're wearing."
Sandra felt so naughty lifting her skirt like that to show Marty what she had on underneath. She hadn't done anything so wild since high school. She could see herself in the mirror, her skirt raised, her thighs white above the tops of the dark stockings, Marty gazing at her legs with bright eyes.
"Lovely," Marty said. "All right, let's have dessert, pay the check, and get the hell out of here."
* * *
They drove in a taxi to Marty's apartment. This was the second time Sandra had been in Marty's flat, and she felt more at ease than a week ago. As soon as they were inside the door, Marty took Sandra in her arms and kissed her. Marty was much taller, even in her flat shoes, and Sandra felt like a young girl on a date as she lifted her face to be kissed.
Sandra was thrilled. Marty might look like a boy, but her lips tasted like a woman's lips, sweet and wonderful.
When the kiss broke, Marty smiled. "You know I usually avoid married women."
"You do? Why?"
"Because they almost always mean trouble. They can break your heart."
"Are you going to break my heart?"
"You know I won't."
Marty kissed her again, and this time she ran her hands over Sandra's back and down to her ass, lifted Sandra's skirt and slid her hands inside the panties to cup Sandra's bare buttocks.
Sandra groaned into Marty's mouth as she felt the hands clutching her cheeks.
Marty said, "Do you want a drink? Some wine?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Undress for me?"
"Undress for you?"
"Yes, in the living room. Let me watch you undress. You hardly had any clothes off last time."
Yes, it was true. The last time they were together Sandra hadn't had anything off except her pantyhose and panties, and Marty had gone down on her like that until Sandra couldn't take any more. And then when Sandra had insisted on going home, Marty had seemed unhappy about it.
Now Marty kissed her again. "So how about it? Will you undress for me?"
Sandra felt a sudden excitement. She nodded. Yes, she would do it. Now was not the time for propriety. What had propriety ever brought her except a clod of a husband and a dull life? She turned and walked into the living room ahead of Marty and she started removing her clothes. She would not do a strip, she had no talent for that. She would merely remove her clothes piece by piece and hope Marty would find it arousing. The felt an intense excitement at the idea of removing her clothes for a lover.
She faced Marty as the younger woman sat down in an easy chair to watch her.
"Go on," Marty said. "Unwrap the package for me."
Sandra had her arms folded across her breasts, each hand on the opposite shoulder, her arms folded as if protecting herself. She looked at Marty and tried to read the expression on the younger woman's face. Marty had such lovely full lips. She was so beautiful.
Sandra dropped her hands and found the zipper of her dress. What a delight it was to do this. She couldn't remember the last time Bert had watched her undress. But she was nervous. She wasn't twenty=two, she was forty-two. And she knew where it showed. Her breasts drooped, but maybe not too much; her belly had a definite little bulge; she certainly had added inches on her hips. She might look a few years younger than her age, but not much, she thought. She looked suburban, a soccer mom, and of course she did have two children thankfully away at college. You're an idiot, she thought suddenly; what was she doing here taking off her clothes in front of another woman?
But when she glanced at Marty and saw the hot desire in Marty's eyes, it kindled her own excitement and she continued undressing.
The little dress was off. Did Marty like her underwear? She knew her breasts looked good in the lace bra. She already knew that Marty had a thing about stockings and heels. She suddenly realized how erotic it was to turn on a woman like this.
"Oh, baby, you're hot," Marty said. "You really get to me."
Sandra shivered with pleasure when she glanced at Marty and saw that Marty had her hand in the crotch of her jeans, rubbing herself with her hand as she watched Sandra.
Sandra wondered how many women Marty had watched undress like this. Probably dozens. Maybe more than dozens. She knew hardly anything about Marty's world. What did she know about such things?
Having unhooked her bra, she dropped it away from her breasts and managed to toss it onto the top of her dress with a little flourish she worried might be silly. But when she looked at Marty and saw the admiration in Marty's eyes, she felt better, understood that her body was attractive enough for Marty. Unwilling to chance looking awkward, she quickly slipped her minuscule panties down and off her legs and tossed them on top of her bra.
"Enough," Marty said, her voice almost a growl. "Just stay like that and come over here."
Sandra realized she enjoyed Marty's dominant attitude, making decisions for them, taking the lead, telling her what to do. She had always wanted that in a lover and had never had enough of it, certainly not from Bert, who after the first years of marriage had gradually transformed into a lump who did nothing but watch the sports channels and grumble about how liberals were ruining the country.
When she walked over to Marty wearing nothing but high heels and stockings, she could feel her juices dripping down the insides of her thighs.
"You did it," Marty said as she ran her hands over Sandra's thighs. "You undressed for me." She kissed Sandra's belly, a series of little kisses between Sandra's navel and her trimmed bush of dark pubic hair. She put her nose into the bush and seemed to be sniffing it.
Sandra gazed down at the top of Marty's head, at Marty's cropped hair, and she thought it could be boy down there kissing her belly and sniffing at her. But of course it wasn't a boy, it was a woman.
Then Marty's hands slid up Sandra's torso to take hold of Sandra's breasts. "I like these," Marty said, pushing the breasts upward, then gently pinching the stiff nipples. "I wanted to get at them last week, but you wouldn't let me undress you."
Sandra quivered as the felt the wetness between her thighs. Now Marty's hands were at her waist, urging her to turn around, and when she did so, she heard Marty's murmur of approval. She could feel Marty's hands on her buttocks, a gentle squeezing and fondling that brought a shiver up Sandra's spine.
"You're lovely," Marty said in a husky voice, turning Sandra's body so that Sandra faced her again. Marty chuckled. "I know places where butches will climb on tables to get a look at a femme like you dressed like this. "You're delectable."
"Could we go to bed now?"
Marty laughed and rose up, her hands covering Sandra's trembling breasts again, her fingers gently twisting Sandra's tumescent nipples. She turned Sandra and led Sandra to the bedroom with her hand stroking Sandra's ass.
* * *
When Sandra returned home that night, she could barely walk. Marty had made love to her for hours, sucking her and then fucking her with a dildo that looked just like a cock jutting out of Marty's crotch. Marty had taken her in every position imaginable. Marty had even wanted to fuck Sandra in the ass, but Sandra had never had that, and she'd pleaded with Marty to be patient with her and wait for another time. And another time there would certainly be. Sandra knew what she had to do with her life now; it was all too clear to her. Her children would understand. They were grown, and they would understand that she had a right to be happy, and that if being happy meant she had to dump Bert, that was what she needed to do.
In the bedroom, as she slipped into a nightgown in the dark, Bert rolled over in bed and spoke in a sleepy voice:
"How did the real estate go?"
"Oh, the real estate went fine," Sandra said. "I can learn a lot from that woman, and I think she's going to teach me a few things."