Everyone in this story is over eighteen. It may seem a little slow to get going, as I've attempted to explore the girl's feelings as she takes her first steps into Lesbian love, and is then taken into willing slavery.
'Can I help you, Sonny?' had said a gruff voice from behind the market stall. That did it. Just past my eighteenth birthday, and the combination of track-suit, short hair and no make-up had me marked as a boy. I didn't bother replying, and humiliating myself further – I just walked away.
'Sonny!' Jesus. I then looked at myself in the mirror and saw myself through the eyes of a casual observer. I saw what they must have seen – 'they' being not only market-traders, but just about anyone. An athlete on the verge of international honours, I had had my long blond hair cut short when I thought it had dislodged the high jump bar. I was tall and slim, with small breasts, and though I thought I had a nice, oval face, my looks could easily have been described as 'boyish.'
All this hadn't seemed to bother Tim, my boyfriend until a few weeks ago, when he had taken a job in the States, and with him I had enjoyed my first encounter with sex. After some mild groping, we had finally made love (at least, that's what he called it) in the back of his old car, on the way back from an athletics meeting – and, despite my initial fear, I had found it OK. OK, but no big deal. We had repeated the deed twice more, before he dropped his bombshell about leaving for Ohio.
But that wasn't my only disappointment during the last few weeks. A troublesome, recurrent knee injury had resulted, finally, in a visit to a specialist, who had told me blithely, 'If you go on jumping, you're going to end up a cripple.'
So I stopped competing, but spent a good deal of time helping at the track, coaching kids and so forth. But life was looking bleak, to say the least of it, and , at that point, my mother suggested that I go and spend some time with my divorced aunt Jenny, who lived in Chislehurst, a leafy suburb of London. As I was waiting to go to college – and I wasn't even sure I wanted to go there - there was no reason not to go, and I readily agreed. I hardly knew my aunt, but remembered her as a willowy brunette, still in her early forties, who, despite a posh accent, had seemed friendly enough on my one previous visit to her lavish home.
So it was that I was knocking on her door, the taxi speeding away behind me, one breezy May Sunday, feeling just slightly nervous about how I would be received.
I needn't have worried. 'Petra, darling!' said my aunt, as she flung the door open, and rushed to kiss me on both cheeks.
'Hello, Aunt Jenny,' I replied.
'Oh please! No aunt stuff, eh. Just plain Jenny, right?'
I nodded gratefully and followed her into the sumptuous hallway. I wondered if she had company, because she was wearing a black cocktail dress which moulded her slender body to perfection, and, as she led me through to the lounge, I couldn't help noticing that she wore seamed black stockings, and incredibly high stiletto-heeled sandals. Her long hair, now blond, was caught up in a flowing pony-tail, held in place by a black velvet bow. She turned to face me when we got into the modern, wood-floored room, decorated with two huge paintings that could only be described as erotic.
'Welcome home,' she said, 'I've been so looking forward to your coming. I'm sure we shall have a lot of fun together.'
'Were you about to go somewhere?' I enquired, looking pointedly at her dress.
'I thought I'd take you out to lunch. It's Wendy's day off.'
'My maid - she's awfully sweet, you'll like her.' Then she went on, 'Why don't you slip into a dress, and we'll go for a drink before we eat?'
I was startled, and stammered, 'B..but I don't have a dress.'
'OK, my dear, just put on whatever you've got,' she said, looking, I thought, rather disparagingly at my jeans and tee-shirt.
She showed me to my room, a nice, cheerful first floor one with a big window looking out over lawns. A squirrel scampered across the grass as I glanced out, making for a huge cedar tree. When I was alone, I bounced onto the big double bed, then set about sorting through my meagre supply of clothes.
I stripped to my bra and cotton panties, and found at the bottom of my case the only skirt I had brought, a short, tight black one, which I stepped into, then found a summer top, with multicoloured stripes and spaghetti straps. I really had no suitable shoes to go with this outfit, but stepped into my best pair of black ones, with a low heel. I hoped it would do, and went nervously downstairs.
'That's better,' said Jenny, 'but you really should be using some make-up, you know.'
'I've put on a bit of lipstick,' I supplied lamely.
'Oh dear, come on, let me have a go at you,' she smiled, and I thought that, if my mum had ever said that, I should have flounced off in a huff.
If she saw me grinning at the thought, she made no comment, but led me to a kitchen chair, and threw a towel around my neck. Half an hour later, she had painted my lips, lined my eyes with mascara, shadowed my eyelids, done something to my lashes, and brushed my hair, all with infinite care. Wordlessly, she handed me a mirror, and I found myself peering at a stranger.
'Shit!' I couldn't help exclaiming.
'You don't like what I've done?' She sounded concerned.
'It's amazing,' I conceded, 'I..I'm totally different!'
'You're beautiful, Petra,' said Jenny, as she took away the towel, 'but we're going to have to do something about this.' She twanged my bra-strap, which showed alongside the straps of my top. 'I doubt you really need a bra, do you?'
I told her I'd never considered going without one, and she laughed. 'I'm the wrong side of the big four-oh, and I seldom wear one,' she said, 'and your tits are young and still firm. Let's see what you look like without it.' There was something about the way she looked at me, that I couldn't put a description to – but, for some reason I didn't want to think about, I found a distinct wetness creeping into my panties' crotch. I tried to ignore it.
Slipping the straps of my top off my shoulders, I quickly reached behind me and unclasped the offending garment, then pulled it off, and slid the straps of my top back in place. It felt funny, and I knew I should feel terribly self-conscious, almost naked, going bra-less. The dampness in my panties was still there.
Jenny was chuckling. 'There, you look much better – more...interesting, I think.'
I wondered at her choice of word, but she had gone to the phone to call a taxi. As we waited for it, she took stock of me and said, 'You must make the most of your beauty, Petra. I'm going to see to it that you are transformed, if you'll let me.'
I'd never thought of myself as beautiful, and said as much.
'Oh, you are, though,' she said, 'you'll find it's amazing what some nice clothes, shoes, and accessories can do.'
'But I can't afford lots of new things,' I protested.
'We'll see,' she rejoined, and, at that moment, the cab rolled up, scrunching up the gravel driveway.
I kept my jacket held tightly around me as I got into the taxi, sure that anyone would notice my nipples – which were quite prominent – poking through the thin material of my top. Glancing at my aunt, sat beside me, she was looking amused. I just thought how gorgeous she looked, and was glad to be with her.
We arrived at what appeared to be a Country Club, somewhere near Sevenoaks, I thought, and Jenny ushered me in, across an entrance lobby, and into a spacious dining room, already well filled with elegant people, all well-dressed and looking prosperous. We were shown to a corner table, set for four. The waiter took my jacket, causing me to cross my arms over my all-too-obvious breasts. When I looked questioningly at Jenny, she told me that we were dining with a couple she had known for a long time. I whispered to her that I felt terribly under-dressed, as all the women around us were clad in expensive dresses, the men in suits. She patted my knee and said, 'When you're young and beautiful, you can get away with wearing a bin-liner. And anyway, you look perfectly charming in that top.'
'But it's so obvious I'm not wearing a bra!'
'Yes, darling, that's what's so nice.'
Before I had time to comment further, the waiter threaded his way between the tables, leading two women through to ours.
'But I thought...............' I started
Jenny smiled. 'Meet my great friends, Sarah and Velda,' she said, introducing me to the two women, both, I thought, in their thirties. Velda was a brunette, with huge, dark – almost black – liquid eyes, under long, long lashes. She was quite short - petite, almost, and wore a grey silk jersey business suit with a short skirt, over patterned black stockings and black patent heels. Sarah was taller, quite as tall as I was, and had her platinum-blond hair caught up in an elaborate swirl, held in place with a silver decoration of some kind. She wore a full, knee-length black skirt of some shiny material, with a pink, flounced hem, and a pink blouse with a plunging neckline – I couldn't remember ever being in the presence of such a beautiful woman, an impression heightened by the expensive perfume she carried with her like an aura.
When the two women sat down, opposite us, I looked from one to the other of them, and back at Jenny, who appeared not to notice when the two held hands ostentatiously above the table. Call me naïve if you will, but I hadn't realised until that moment that they were more than just friends, nor had I suspected that my aunt had inclinations that were other than what I had always considered 'normal.'
But their conversation soon became intimate, Jenny telling Sarah how gorgeous she looked, and saying she hoped Velda wouldn't mind if they 'had an hour or two together' that afternoon. She then turned to me, and said, 'You don't mind, either, darling, do you? I know this must all be new to you, but I'll explain later. I just wanted you to meet my two wonderful friends first.'
I was too shocked to speak just then, and just nodded, my eyes doubtless like saucers.
The meal was excellent, and the conversation became general, probably in deference to my presence. I relaxed a little, but when it was time to go, I wondered what was going to happen. In the event, we all got in a cab back to Jenny's house, and she announced that she'd put some coffee on. 'Just make yourselves comfortable!' she told us, an I found myself sat next to Velda, who wanted to know all about my athletic career. I found that I could relax still more in the company of the couple, as Sarah was perched on the arm of the sofa, beside her friend, and I was enveloped in the heady mix of their perfumes. Sarah's skirt had ridden up, and she didn't seem self-conscious at displaying a shapely length of bare leg – I found my gaze fixed by her loveliness, but Velda, seemingly unconciously, rested her hand against my thigh as we talked, and I was acutely aware of her nearness.
Jenny came in with a tray bearing coffee, and she had changed out of her dress, was now wearing a blue silk kimono, her hair now loose, cascading down her back in a long blond mane, almost to her waist. I thought how young she looked, and something I didn't yet understand stirred within me. She served us all coffee, then sat in the chair opposite with her cup.
'You seem to be getting on well,' she said.
'Yes, Jenny,' said Velda, then, to my intense embarrassment, 'Your niece is delectable, darling – she's telling me all about her jumping.'
I could have sworn she licked her lips suggestively as she said this, and I must have gone red, because Jenny said, 'Don't mind Velda, my dear – she always speaks her mind.'
It was her use of the word 'delectable' that had done it, I thought, but why had I started to tremble? Because trembling I was, as Velda's hand moved imperceptibly against my thigh. She's starting to stroke my leg, I thought. Bloody hell! Worse, I didn't think I minded it!
But what passed that afternoon is a blurred memory. I remember that Jenny took Sarah by the hand and led her out of the room, and that Velda then suggested we watch television – I think she had been warned against trying to seduce me. We sat together, and I found myself relaxing happily in her presence, which may have had something to do with the bottle of Merlot that we drank as we watched a nice old film. I was asleep when Jenny and Sarah returned to the room, and awakened with a start when my aunt flopped down on the sofa beside me, Velda sat decorously at my other side.
Sarah and Velda called a taxi and left Jenny and I sat side-by-side. She sighed deeply, and patted my knee. I turned towards her, and saw that her eyes were closed.
'Are you alright, Jenny?' I enquired.
'Mmmm,' she replied, dreamily, 'never been righter!'
I was in shock, really. I didn't know what had affected me the most – Jenny sloping off with the lovely Sarah, and coming back like a cat that's had the cream, or the sensation of Velda stroking my leg. No, it wasn't her stroking my leg, it was how I felt when she did it!
'Jenny,' I began, 'I didn't.....'
'Petra darling,' she said, 'When I asked your mother to let you come to my house, it wasn't with any ulterior motive, you know, it's just that – how shall I say this?' I was acutely concious that her hand was on my knee – it seemed to be burning into my flesh like a red-hot iron. She went on, 'I'll not apologise to you. I'm a Lesbian, and have been since my marriage broke up about eight years ago. I'm comfortable with that, but if you're not, and feel outraged, I'll quite understand, and you are, of course, welcome to go back home right now. I'll even pay your fare.'
I looked at her concerned face, framed by her long, soft, blond hair, and, as if it was being controlled by someone else, my hand strayed to my own knee, and covered her manicured hand.
'I'm not outraged, Jenny,' I muttered, 'it was all so unexpected, that's all.'
'I'd just hate to think I was pushing you into anything, darling. And you can have all the time you like to think about things.'
With that, she moved gently away from me. 'I'll go and make some tea,' she said, and I was suddenly alone on the sofa – with my thoughts.
And they were thoughts such as I'd never before had. I had hardly known that Lesbians existed, much less had doubts about my own heterosexuality. Until now. What had affected me the most? Sarah's loveliness? Velda's hand on my thigh? The place where it had rested seemed to be burning as I remembered the sensation. Or Jenny's overt behaviour with Sarah? Then again, I couldn't help being attracted to my unexpectedly beautiful aunt, when she had sat beside me, the silk kimono falling negligently open to reveal a long, smooth, slender leg, uncomfortably close to me.
But now she interrupted my jumbled thoughts, as she came in with a tray of sandwiches.
'I hope this will do,' she said, 'I don't generally eat a lot in the evenings, and I suppose you'll be tired anyway – you've had a long day, haven't you?'
'It'll be fine,' I said. And it was. I went to sleep quickly in the strange bed, and awoke next morning to see sun streaming through the blinds – I sensed an interesting day.
Over a simple breakfast, Jenny said she had a proposition to put to me. I raised my eyebrows – what was she going to say?
I found out soon enough. 'You know I am what you might desscribe as a businesswoman?' she said, 'I move money around, sit on a couple of boards, and have my fingers in a few pies.'
I nodded. My mother had told me that a distant aunt had left Jenny a fortune when she died.
Jenny went on, 'As a little sideline, I have a boutique, not far from here, and the girl who ran it has left. I'd like you to try running it for me.'
It was a bombshell. 'But...but..I don't know anything. I mean, I've never worked in a shop, and, well, I just don't think I could do it.'
'I'm sure you can, darling,' she smiled, ' and it won't be too taxing. I only open mornings four days, and all day Saturday – and I'll stay with you until you have learned the ropes.'
I must have looked shocked, because she patted my arm, and said, 'Look, the shop's closed today, so have a think about it, and, if you decide to have a go, I'll take you in the morning.'
'Why me?' I wanted to know, 'there must be lots of people looking for a job who have experience.'
'You're family, darling,' she said, as if that explained everything.
I thought about it all morning. What else was I going to do? I had no burning ambition, or vocation, and wasn't particularly interested in studying – my whole life had consisted of training and competing in athletics until then.
'I'll give it a try, if you're sure I can learn,' I told Jenny over lunch.
'That's wonderful, darling. I'll take you to my beauty salon this afternoon.'
She saw the look on my face, and laughed lightly. 'Not because you need to be made beautiful – it's just that we can do few things to......what shall we say? Help nature along a little. And I was going anyway.'
That afternoon, wearing the same skirt and top I had worn the day before, I sat beside Jenny in her car, driving into Orpington.
'I'm so glad you've decided to help me,' she said, and actually looked pleased, her pretty eyes sparkling as she half-turned to me, tossing her long blond hair aside. I felt a sudden surge of.....what? I was still trying to put a name to it when we pulled up outside the salon.
Three hours later I emerged, my hair now long and honey-blonde, with extensions expertly applied, false nails very long and decorated, with a sparkling stone set into that on my right middle finger – I was going to have to get used to the awkwardness. My eyes and eyelashes had also been cunningly made up, and unaccustomed lip-gloss applied, so that when I had looked at myself in the mirror, a beautiful stranger had been looking back at me.
When we got home, I saw that the front door was open, and out of it skipped a vivacious little girl, a dark-skinned Eurasian with long, shining, jet-black hair. She wore a simple black minidress, a white apron and black hose. Jenny introduced her as her maid, Wendy, and she curtsied prettily when she was presented. There was something intensely suggestive about the atmosphere in that house, I thought, as Wendy served us with tea. But I couldn't have put a name to it.
'Now, let me have a look at you,' said Jenny, pulling me gently to my feet, and twirling me about. 'Yes,' she said, 'You look much better, but I'll try and find you something else to wear when for we go in to the shop in the morning. You're taller than I am, but otherwise about the same size, I think.'
She bade me follow her to her room, off which she had a huge dressing-room, lined with mirrored wardrobes. She slid one open, stepped right inside, and rummaged through racks of clothes, then emerged with a hanger, from which hung a pale blue, silky garment.
'Slip your clothes off,' she told me, and watched me openly as I unclasped my skirt, stepped out of it, then wriggled out of the top. I was left in just my cotton panties, my arms crossed involuntarily across my breasts.
'You don't have to cover yourself up, darling,' she told me, 'I won't bite, even if you are good enough to eat.'
I didn't know how to take that, and must have laughed nervously, as she handed me the dress. I slid it over my head, and felt the sensual caress of the silky material against my skin as it fell over my body. It was a mid-thigh length dress, with a full, pleated skirt, the bodice with a plunging neckline, so that the swell of my breasts was displayed amply. I had never worn anything remotely like this, and said so.
'What a shame, darling, you look ravishing, doesn't she, Wendy?' It was only then that I realised that the maid had been standing silently in the doorway.