Girl-Talk

"So you never do it then?"

"Do what," Jane said, twisting the olive around in her third martini of the evening. "I don't know what you're talking about, Rachel."

"Oh come on, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Rachel, she having had more Cosmopolitans than she could count. "You know, when you're on the road and you are feeling lonely and, you know, horny...Don't tell me you never touch yourself, down there."

Rachel, leaning forward across the table so as not to be heard over the din of the crowded hotel bar, looked slightly comical. Her face was flushed in a mixture of intoxication and sexual euphoria over the building sexual conversation she was having with a woman she had only met that day at the trade show. Rachel was a vice president of a large pharmaceutical company in New York City and had met Jane, a sales rep from a 70-year old Midwestern HMO. The moment she met Jane, she could tell by her cheap suit and wholesome goodiness that she was a woman ripe for excitement; something different a new that could open new doors for her.

Jane, on the other hand, was taken aback by the brashness of this high-powered woman. She barked orders to her underlings and signed at least two multi-million dollar deals with major drug companies that day alone. Sent by doctors at her hospital, Jane would be happy to return to the Minneapolis suburbs with a couple of brochures for cheap medicines.

They met while waiting in line to talk to a syringe manufacturer and instantly struck up a conversation about how excruciating these trade shows could be. After chatting in line about work and careers, the two decided to blow off the rest of the show curriculum and take in an early dinner. A bottle of wine at dinner turned into three, which led to drinks at the bar, which led to Rachel grinning at Jane across the table and asking her the most intimate of questions.

"Well, I kind of grew up in a religious household," Jane said, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. Despite herself, this randy talk before a relative stranger was making her squirm in her chair. "It's not that I never tried to or never wanted to. I mean I read all those articles in the woman's magazines on how women should take, err, matters into their own hands, but to tell you the truth, I never really understood what the big deal was."

Rachel leaned back, looking totally shocked. Who was this little miss goody two shoes? She didn't think people like this really existed, other than on Little House on the Prairie.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, finishing her martini. "You've never masturbated, ever? I mean never, not even once?"

"I've tried a couple of times, you know they say its good for reliving stress or menstrual cramps," Jane said, blushing another three shades of crimson. "I don't know, my mother stuck the idea in my head that my dead grandmother was up in heaven watching me when I'm alone in bed."

Rachel doubled over and started giggling uncontrollably. The couple at the next table over looked over in amusement as she nearly fell out of her chair and knocked two classes onto the floor, spilling Jane's drink onto a potted palm plant. Jane looked on extremely puzzled as to why her mother's words could be so funny to this woman.

As she slowly recovered with an audible snort through her nose, Rachel leaned forward over the table, close to Jane's face. "Jane, have you ever had an orgasm before, in your whole life, I mean?"

The younger woman looked shocked momentarily, but then determined to show this big shot power chick that she was no country bumpkin.

"Yes, of course I have, I'm not a child," Jane said, puffing out her chest and straightening her shoulders. "All the time, lots of them, lots and lots..."

Jane's voice trailed off as she lost momentum and looked off into space, lost in a moment.

Rachel was skeptable. "Ok, when was the last time you had one, when you really came hard. One of those orgasms that shakes your whole body and makes you squeal like a little girl?

Jane thought for a moment, started to reply and then looked down at her spilled drink, like she was concentrating on an algebra problem.

"Well, there was my boyfriend in college," she said, suddenly enlightened. "Brad Lynch. He was great, he made me squeal. He even put his face down there and everything."

"My, that sounds really exciting," Rachel patronized. "And how long ago did Brad and his super tongue get you off."

"Not that long ago," Jane said, still trying to make her case. "It was my senior year. That was only three years ago."

Jane felt her hollow words and suddenly felt like an insignificant hick on Wall Street. Rachel was right, although she really didn't want to admit it to herself. Besides, sex wasn't that important, any way. She was engaged to a resident at the hospital who was in line to take over the entire radiology department. He was a good man who was going to build her a new house in Saint Paul, if the bank came through on the loan. It really didn't matter that her sex life with him basically consisted of a few rough thrusts and a kiss on the cheek before he passed out.

"That's unbelievable, Jane," Rachel said, really feeling empathy for this poor girl. "I can't remember going longer than a couple of weeks without a good cum. God, how can you stand it?"

She once went a whole month without a good cum because an article in Vanity Fair said sexual frustration could actually raise your IQ. In the end it was easier to be sweaty, happy and stupid than smart, crabby and frustrated.

"This may come as a huge shock for you," Jane said, signaling the waitress for another round. "But there are some people in this world whose lives don't revolve around S-E-X."

As soon as she spelled it she wised she hadn't; how much more naive could she sound? Rachel of course burst out laughing like a lunatic and snorting though her nose.

"Well, this may be a shock for you," Rachel said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "But some people think that S-E-X can be really F-U-N!"

Jane rolled her eyes as the waitress saved her from further humiliation. When both women ordered another round, the tired waitress looked at her watch and eyed Jane, whose head was beginning to bob and weave in intoxication. She informed her that this was absolutely the last round for her and that the hotel bar would be closing in fifteen minutes.

"By the way," the waitress said, wiping up the table. "Hopefully my husband will still be awake when I get home so I don't have a little F-U-N by myself."

Jane and Rachel burst into giggles that would put junior high cheerleaders and with a wink, the waitress was gone to retrieve their drinks. When the laughter subsided, Jane fell serious again and removed her fogged up glasses.

"To tell you the truth," she said, wiping them on her silk blouse. "I sometimes feel really cheated, you know, you read all those romance novels and see all those women in the movies having these earth-shaking climaxes. They scream at the top of their lungs like they are going to die it feels so good. I've had little happy quivers and warm feelings, but never anything like that at all."

Rachel smiled at her innocent new friend, with so many possibilities gone unfulfilled. "I don't think you've really had a really good cum at all. You seem like you are missing out on one of the greatest things about being a beautiful, feminine creature. An orgasm is so incredible and liberating. For something like twenty seconds, you can leave your body and float to a place called bliss. And bliss is such a wonderful, beautiful place."

"This is my kind of girl talk," the waitress said, returning with her tray. "Mind if I join you for last call? This place has been such a zoo and my feet are absolutely killing me."

"The more the merrier," Rachel said going for her wallet. "I'm Rachel, and this is my inexperienced new friend Jane. She's never had an orgasm before."

"Rachel!" Jane gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. "How can you talk like that to her? We've never even met...besides, I have too!"

Both women laughed at Jane's shocked display. "Well, Jane is it? Tell me this," the waitress said drinking down half of Jane's cocktail. "Have you ever cum so hard that your toes curl and your whole body feels like it is on fire?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Then you've probably never had an orgasm then, a good one anyway," the Waitress smiled and clinked glasses with Rachel. "That's really a shame, girlfriend. My name's Andrea by the way."

As Rachel produced a twenty to pay for the drinks, Andrea waved her off, saying that anyone who's suffered as long as poor Jane deserves a free round. After exchanging pleasantries, Andrea revealed that she was a law student at near by University of Georgia and she wasn't planning on pursuing a career in dark sweaty bars.

"Ok, fine so I don't have orgasms," Jane said, pushing her short blond bob behind her ears. Jane was petite, around five feet two and still looked like the cheerleader that always was on top of the pyramids in high school. "Maybe I'm not missing them."

"Oh you're missing them," Andrea said, her words slurring slightly thanks to the five or so drinks she had had during her shift. "Usually I get home around three in the morning and my fiancée is already asleep. I don't want to wake him, so I like to plop down in his easy chair and put my vibrator through the paces before turning in. Once I have an orgasm, sometimes it takes two or three, all the stress and tension of work and school are gone and I can just go in and drop dead into sleep. Then I wake up in the morning fresh and ready to go."

Jane leaned back; her face screwed up in a mixture of arousal and confusion. How could this woman share something so private to her?

"Getting off right before bed is sometimes an absolute necessity for me, Jane," Rachel said. "I live alone in Manhattan and I'd much rather just have a quick, pleasurable orgasm than call some guy I know or call in an escort or something. Once I have an intense climax, I like to fall asleep wherever I just got off. Sometimes I wake up, still naked with my fingers still in between my legs."

Andrea and Rachel clinked glasses again, Andrea saying that waking up from a blissful sleep with your sexual scent still in the air was so stimulating. Jane was at an utter loss for words, her cheeks burning in the deepest blush of all time. Just then, the lights popped on and the bartender began ringing a bell, signaling that it was time for everyone to go home.

"Tell you what, if you let me stay over tonight, I'll pull some strings and get us a bottle of the best tequila in the bar." Andrea said, winking at Jane. "I'm free to go, and I don't think I'm in any shape to be driving."

Jane and Rachel agreed that it didn't make much sense for anyone to be driving anywhere. Since Rachel was the one with the room in that particular hotel, the three agreed to move to her room for a nightcap. Andrea disappeared to go clock out and thankfully for Jane, Rachel began to talk about how Andrea reminded her of her of an old college friend. Anything but more raunchy sex talk, Jane thought. Not that she was uneasy or couldn't handle big-girl talk, but she was starting to get more and more confused as to why talking with these two beautiful women was making her feel so turned on.

She gazed at Rachel as she babbled on, slurring her words about her old friend. She really was pretty and definitely high-class, Jane thought. She longed to have a body like hers; tall and slim with breasts that were neither to large or too small for her frame. Hell, Jane would settle for her hair, long blond and shiny, her locks were tied up in a thick single braid behind her head. Rachel's face was flawless ­ she could have been in her mid twenties or late thirties; with that kind of beauty it was hard to tell. Jane also admired her fashion sense, wearing the latest Anne Taylor business suit that complimented her figure perfectly. She wondered what kind of underwear a woman like this would wear...Wait, why was she thinking about her underwear?

Andrea reappeared, breaking Jane's trance. She had, indeed, produced an expensive bottle of tequila and shook it before her new friends like a trophy. Her waitress apron was gone, but she still had on the prerequisite button up white men's dress shirt and black bow tie. Andrea was probably in her early twenties, Jane thought, considering she was a law student at UGA. She was cute, in a little sister kind of way, with a tight, athletic body and long tresses of auburn curls. It was how this girl carried herself that made her attractive, exuding self-confidence and youthful exuberance.

Rachel squealed with glee at the tequila trophy and gulped down the last of her martini and told the other women to follow her. Jane followed the other two girls, now both giggling like excited schoolgirls through the elegant hotel lobby and into the brass elevator. She wasn't sure if the funny feeling in the pit of her stomach was queasiness caused by all the liquor or nervous anticipation.

No surprise, Rachel's room was on the top floor and the tipsy women followed her past the sign pointing toward the executive suites. Jane couldn't get over the opulence of the hallway alone. It kind of put the Red Roof Inn she was stuck in to shame. Rachel stopped at the presidential suite, fished in her purse for the key card, and scurried through the door.

The elegant suite overwhelmed Jane. The room was really three rooms joined together, with a 15-foot boardroom table and several overstuffed leather couches. She ran through to explore more, finding the largest fruit basket she had ever seen, a chandelier worth at least ten thousand dollars and the master bedroom, complete with a queen-sized bed bigger than her first apartment.

Jane returned to the living area, to find Rachel kicking off her pumps and Andrea opening the huge bay windows. The view of downtown Atlanta was breathtaking.

"I've worked in this god damn hotel for two years and I've never been in any of the rooms," Andrea said, removing her own shoes and sitting one of the sofas to massage her toes. "God, what a room, Rach. You executive live hard, don't you."

"Live hard and play hard, my dear," Rachel said, pulling the hem of her skirt up a bit, revealing white stockings and garter belts. Jane's mouth dropped upon viewing her sexy underthings. "God, I've been wanting to get these damn things off all day."

Rachel unsnapped both fittings and unhooked the garters, and pealed her stockings down and off her legs. She looked over at Jane who was sitting with her legs tightly crossed and her mouth literally hanging open.

"You looked shocked, Jane," she said, tossing her silk stockings into the corner, letting the garters hang loosely over her firm thighs before pressing her skirt back down into place. "Haven't you ever been to Victoria Secret before? They're much more comfortable than panty hose, let me tell you."

"I've just never know anyone to ever garters before," Jane said, turning as Andrea pressed a shot glass full of golden liquid into her hand. "I wore them for some sorority dance once when everyone was supposed to dress like whores...a Mafia wedding or something...not that you look like a whore or anything."

Andrea and Rachel burst into fits of laughter again. Jane blushed again and belted back her shot, wincing as the strong tequila burned down her throat. Andrea, after calming down, commented how her nylons were driving her crazy, too, and without celebration, reached up under her work skirt and pulled them down and off her legs. Jane quickly thanked god that she had gone barelegged that day.

"Maybe I am a whore and you just don't know it, Janey," Rachel said, sitting down in a thrown-like chair and slouching down, showing both women her garters again. "I don't know about either one of you, but al this booze and chatting has got me all revved up. I know what I'm gonna do before I hit the sack tonight." "You and me both," Andrea said, putting back her own shot.

Jane blinked and looked first at Andrea and then over to Rachel, who was sitting with her legs spread open, revealing black animal-printed panties.

"What do you mean," Jane cautioned, crossing and uncrossing her legs, feeling wetness seep into her cotton panties like she had wet her pants.

"You know, relieve some tension before I fall asleep," when Jane stared on without reaction, Rachel continued on, her hand sliding down her stomach and between her legs. "You know make myself come before I can relax. Oh...I'm all wet already."

Andrea giggled on the couch, breaking the momentary silence.

"How do you, um, I mean what do you...you know," Jane stammered, trying not to look either woman in the eye. "When you do it, I mean..."

"How do I masturbate?" Rachel said firmly, as Jane died a life of embarrassment. "You really don't know how to do it, do you? Do you want me to show you?"

Jane's face was so red she thought she might burst. She stared down at her feet and meekly nodded her head. She looked over at Andrea, whose freckled face smiled back. The younger girl shrugged.

"You might as well learn sometime, Jane." She said. "I didn't know how to do it until I was around 16 and took horse back riding lessons at camp. I noticed that when the horse started galloping really fast and I pressed my crotch into the saddle, I could make myself feel really good inside. It felt really perverted and nasty to have an orgasm on a horse, so I waited until I got home that night and straddled the armrest on my mother's couch in just my panties. I noticed that if I ground my pussy against the fabric and leaned forward to grab the edge of the couch, you know, like riding a horse, I could make my self cum over and over again."

As she spoke, Andrea pressed her thighs together and rubbed them up and down. Rachel refocused Jane's attention:

"Jane, do you want me to show you how I have an orgasm," she said, her face glowing and her fingers already undoing the buttons on her blouse. "Because you too are making me as hot as a fire cracker. I'll go into the other room if you feel uncomfortable."

Jane stared off into space, and in a creaky voice she told her that no, she should stay because she wanted to learn how she did it. Rachel didn't need any more encouragement, pulling her blouse open and shrugging it off her shoulders. Her zebra-print bra held her flawless breasts high up on her chest and as she stood up to unzip and step out of her skirt, Jane was awestruck by her beautiful body, not an ounce of fat could be seen anywhere. In just her bra panties and garter belt, Rachel slouched back down in the cushy chair and spread her legs wide. Her hands shot up to her full, heavy breasts.

"I like to touch myself all over to get me aroused," Rachel breathed, her hands cupping and squeezing her breasts through the zebra-stripped material. "I'm ready to go now, though. See how my nipples get all hard and strain against my fingers when I pinch them...ohhh....pinch them not too hard, not too soft."

Rachel gave both breasts a rough squeeze and bent forward to reach back and undo her bra clasp. Jane shifted in her seat, completely overwhelmed by the show before her. Letting her bra fall to the floor, Rachel's beautiful breasts were revealed in their full glory. Either she was crafted by an angel or had the best plastic surgeon money could buy, her breasts were magnificent. Two perfectly formed identical globes that seemed to defy gravity, and indeed her nipples were pointing out like pencil erasers.

"I don't know about you guys, but my tits are so sensitive," she said, her hands moved back to the warm flesh of her breasts. "When I squeeze them like this, it's like an electrical charge shoots right down to my pussy. Mmm...I like to pull on my nipples a little like this...mmm."