Rachel & Janie's Massage

Miss Hausenplat does not understand all the forces that be as she is about to meddle in the lives of our two heroins. Over the edge of her knowing are two, call them guardian angels, that await the return of their vacationing proteges.

"We should go back soon, you know." Rachel says.

"Yes,"

"When...?"

Rachel interrupts this near constant reverie, "Do we know somebody named Hausenplat?"

"I don't think so--wait isn't there a dean named Hausenplat?"

"Yeah, something to do with discipline. How outdated to have a title with 'discipline' in it."

"Well, we are in the Bible Belt.--Better watch out, you evil lezzy!"

"Yeah, I'll watch that wet pussy of yours--closely!"

"Anyway," Rachel reads, "we have an invitation to 4567 N. Pepperbridge Lane at 9:00 p.m. Tuesday for an 'interview' with Ms. Hausenplat."

"Miss?"

"Yeah, never married I heard somewhere."

"Why so late?" Rachel asks, "Doesn't she think we sleep?"

"We better go. My scholarship depends on the goodwill of this college. Especially now, since my grades are slipping almost as fast as my tongue into your pussy." Janie smirks.

"Poor baby, I'm getting wet thinking about that tongue--soon I'll need to change these panties again, you slut!"

"9 p.m. is still pretty late..."

"Yeah...I miss Jasmine."

"Me too."

"So?"

"What made you think of Jasmine now, since we've been studiously ignoring the pull of her and Miss M for the last two weeks?"

Janie shrugs, and says simply, "Danger."

Rachel understands immediately, "Ms. Hausenplat!"

"Why don't we ask Jasmine what to do?"

"I hope she isn't mad at us for ignoring her. God, it's not like we don't talk about them every night..." Rachel says.

"To Georgies?"

"Yep, let's see how clairvoyant our enchantresses are?"

At Georgies, it is supper time. They are eating salads but want cheeseburgers. "What's up with this salad crap?"

"No one made you order it." Rachel says.

"I always dutifully follow the recommendations of my cute mentor."

"Follow this!" Rachel says, giving her the finger and then extending it like a wand along the slope of her cheek. "Seriously, I didn't want to overeat...you know...in case."

"Ah!" Janie giggles, "In case you had to get serious and suck major pussy!"

"OK, so the thought of...did enter my mind. Last time was so exciting!"

"It was!"

"What was?" smiles Jasmine as she slides gracefully into the curved booth. Miss M and the vivacious, little Jenna join them on the other side. The girls light up with smiles. How wonderful to see them again! They realize what a hidden ache their absence was. Everyone is hugging now like long lost friends in from the cold. "Oh my, how we missed you!" they say, almost together.

"We missed you, too!" Jasmine says, "but we wanted to respect your...ah...privacy." and sniggers delightedly. "I bet you were studying so hard you forgot all about us." Now she openly laughs, along with Miss M and Jenna, as they watch Rachel and Janie blush furiously, all of them happy to be together again.

"How did you know to find us here?" Janie asks.

"Big magic, little girl!" Jasmine says with a straight face, and then confesses, "Of course, Josie, the bartender helped too. She called us just like we asked her to, when two horny girls showed up with lonesome faces."

"That's us, I guess." Rachel says, "We wanted to come sooner but, as you could tell, there were always distractions, wonderful distractions."

"We never stopped thinking of you, if that helps." Janie says. "Then we got this weird invitation and we thought maybe we should talk to you about it."

"It made you feel danger." Jasmine says and they are reminded of her uncanny mind reading skills.

"Yes, danger." Janie says and shows her the neat little card with the invitation, handwritten in neat bold cursive.

Jasmine looks at Miss M and asks, "Do we know a Hausenplat?"

Miss M thinks for a minute and points to the card, "She's a dean, an unmarried dean, as I recall. She had a reputation for being repressed, standoffish. Daddy would wisecrack about her being an old maid at 25."

Jasmine thinks, "So the repressed Miss H wants to meet our two lovely lesbians who so conveniently documented themselves on the internet."

"We loved your latest picture!" Jenna giggles, "Hope you didn't get too many bruises from that tile floor."

Jasmine looks at Jenna, "Speaking of acting, maybe our little scout needs to pay Miss H a visit...sort of warm her up. We have three days until the 'interview.' We'll go with you, I'll be your governess and Miss M can be your aunt. Jenna will be--well let's just say, a sight for sore eyes."

Jasmine gets up from the booth along with her retinue, she winks at the girls. "After the interview, we'll attend to that massage you've so carefully put off." The girls nod eagerly.

------

On Sunday afternoon under a cloudy sky, on the porch of Miss Hausenplat's house stands little Jenna, adorable in a scout uniform, badges, ribbons, her blonde hair in pigtails, an innocent smile on her face.

Miss Hausenplat answers the door. She is captured by the sight of Jenna who curtseys and broadcasts a wide impish smile. Under her arm are some rather tattered boxes of cookies.

"Hello!" Jenna says, and extends her hand, Mary Kay all-the-way. Miss Hausenplat steps back, taken in by the lovely sight of the petite young girl with so much...presence. Jenna grabs hold of her hand, and carries her along into the hallway where she says, "Oh, thank you for inviting me in. I am so thirsty. Who knew selling cookies was so much work."

Distractedly, Miss Hausenplat nods her head and walks with the girl into her sitting room. She is enormously conscious of the little girl's warm fingers clutching her hand. She gestures for the girl to sit on the couch. The girl gracefully drops onto the couch and crosses her legs at the ankles. Since the girl won't let go of Miss Hausenplat's hand, she finds herself sitting beside the girl aware now of the remarkably short skirt the scout is wearing, its hem resting mid-thigh on very sheer nylons. (I didn't know they wore nylons!)

Jenna rubs Miss Hausenplat's hand and exclaims how smooth and silky her skin is. She asks her if she uses lotion, that her mother uses cocoa creme but the smell is yuck. "I wish I had skin like yours," she murmurs now tenderly stroking the back of Miss Hausenplat's hand, and then her wrist, and now her forearm in light strokes, the picture of innocent exploration.

Inside Miss Hausenplat is quivering with temptation. How long it's been since someone has touched her and marveled about her appearance. How long since she's felt a warm body this close to her (and realizes with a start that Jenna has snuggled even closer to her with the length of her body now actually touching, no pressing against hers. How did that happen!)

Jenna continues to stroke Miss Hausenplat's arm. She is a practiced temptress, weaving a silky web barely glistening in the light, surrounding her passage. She lightly kisses Miss Hausenplat on the cheek, but her lips are wet and the kiss has a bit of a pout to it--another strand of that bedeviling web. Miss Hausenplat shivers, touches her cheek, and gets up suddenly, "Better get that water!"

Her face flushed, Miss Hausenplat returns with a pitcher of water and two chilled glasses on a tray. As she sets the tray on the coffee table, her eyes follow the dark tunnel beneath Jenna's skirt to a silky white spot that winks back into darkness as Jenna shifts her legs and smiles widely, "Oh, thank you so much." Her voice is prim almost as though she is echoing the serious Ms. Hausenplat. The affect fades as Jenna stretches her arms over her head. As the girls fingers languidly toy with a stray lock of hair along the seem of pink flesh that parts her pigtails, Miss Hausenplat watches the curve of her breast become more pronounced and her skirt slide up farther over silken thighs.

Now, Jenna smiles an odd new smile, lips trembling with trepidation, like a flower out from the shade into the sun, wondrously, openly, welcoming Miss Hausenplat to herself. Miss Hausenplat hesitantly looks into the girl's blue startled eyes, eyes that stare back at her suddenly wistful and confused. She sees the delicate slope of her nose, and the swell of sensuous lips curved and full, but oddly hesitant, lost...searching. Her breath catches as the tip of Jenna's tongue slips out of those pouty lips to reach a single drop of water, glistening on the edge of the glass she is slowly extending, preoccupied, to her lips. Then, as she stares in wonder at Miss Hausenplat, the glass falls from her hand and cold water splashes all over her blouse, puddling on her skirt, wetting an already excited pussy: the temptress is somehow smitten with Miss Hausenplat, for whom she longs, strange and unsettled.

"Oh!" Miss Hausenplat says and grabs a napkin and tries to blot up the water from Jenna's chest. It is an unconscious act, really, nothing untoward or even seductive, just her heartfelt reaction to the girl's confusion. Jenna's response is more, like the ring of a bell, clear and true: she kisses Miss Hausenplat fully on her lips, hungrily capturing her face as she leans in to wipe away the water. Her kiss is wet and wild and unrestrained, filled with an intuitive will to free Miss Hausenplat from all the restraints these many years of solitude have built up around her heart--or elsewhere! Miss Hausenplat cannot help herself from responding. Suddenly they are both wet lipped and tongue lapped in wonder together, each well past a ledge from which they fall deliriously.

There is no napkin now as warm fingers blot away the water from Jenna's heaving chest. "Take it off--please!" she pants, and struggles to undo the uniform's straps that hold her skirt. Freed, she slips skirt and panties down her silk stockings to puddle (literally) on the floor at her feet. Her legs are open now. Her pussy bare. She returns to Ms. Hausenplat with lips determined to own the unexpected sweetness of the month she finds ready and open, needy for her return.

"Oh god! Oh god! Please don't hurt me," Ms. Hausenplat says her voice slurred with desire and wonder and worry. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to take advantage of you! It just happened!"

Jenna strokes Miss Hausenplat face and kisses her nose like she might a child's. "Shhh, shhhh" she whispers, "my darling, you have nothing at all to worry about. I am almost as old as you. I only hope you won't think badly of me for seducing you. I want us to be friends. I want us to be lovers. Please, please forgive me!"

Jenna takes Miss Hausenplat hand and places it firmly between her legs onto her slippery mound. "Whatever else happens this is yours." She presses the hand again and forces one of Miss Hausenplat fingers into her hotness. "I don't know why I've just bonded with you, but there it is. Now and whenever: You don't have to worry about ever being lonely again. I want you so badly I'm making your dainty couch wet with my juices!"

"You aren't a dream?" Miss Hausenplat is crying now, her tears fall onto Jenna's bare breast. Jenna leans into her and licks her cheek. Her tongue is warm; it stroke's Miss Hausenplat's face luxuriously, savoring her lovely skin, teasing her tears onto its tip.

"I have to leave soon, my love. My heart will break if you disown me later." Jenna says ambiguously. "Before I do, I need to make you happy, so happy you will always come back for more."

She smiles that big inviting smile again and turns to Miss Hausenplat. Her fingers stroke the tear stained face and wander down her neck to the blouse buttoned primly to the top there. With each button she licks a tear, saying, "When you are naked I will have washed away your tears and this tongue can attend to other things."

Miss Hausenplat is breathless with anticipation as each button gives up its opening. She feels hopelessly wet herself, squirming helpless under the press of Jenna's fingers and the lick of Jenna's tongue. "Who...who are you?"

"I'm Jenna! So pleased to meet you!" at this she pry's Miss Hausenplat's hand from between her legs and shakes it lightly and then brings it to her lips, kissing the back in the French manner. Not content with polite introduction, she takes each wet finger into her mouth to suck away the juices clinging to it. Letting her lips slowly encircle first the forefinger then the middle finger, she smiles mischievously "Well aren't you going to tell me your whole name Miss Hausenplat?"

"Emily."

"Emily?"

"Yes..."

"When I come back--soon, Emily my brand new love--I will tell you how this innocent not girl scout knows your name, until then..." Words fade into bliss as the blouse is finally opened, the bra undone to let beautiful milk-white breasts present themselves. Pink unbridled excitement tints their soft mounds, mounds that grow as Jenna's lips kiss their curves until she is there at the nipple, lips pouted, tongue extended, eyes hooded with desire. She pauses to look up past her captive's chest to see the same desire burning there in Emily's eyes. (She said "my love!" She said "my love!") She takes the nipple into her mouth to lick it then suck it, her hands busy fondling, expertly tweaking, until Emily can no longer think a single coherent "deanly" thought, until she is wet like a baby, until she is undone completely, now panting wildly, as Jenna's probing fingers find their mark, and play and play there...until heaven has come to earth, freeing their handmaiden.

In the afterglow, Jenna helps Miss Hausenplat, her Emily, to get up from the couch where she is slumped like a well-used doll. Emily is dazed, for a moment she must have lost consciousness. She stares at Jenna's excited face whose pink cheeks shine like ripe apples. She sees how intently Jenna looks at her. Dreamily, on the contented waves of her massive orgasm, she wonders idly, no longer caring much about the past, how long has it been since anyone--anyone at all--looked so lovingly, so hotly at her.

Jenna puts her arm around Emily's shoulder and helps her to the bedroom. There she pulls down the covers and sets her charge slowly onto the bed. Kissing her lightly, her lips like butterfly wings, she lays her down, gently lifting her legs onto the bed and finishes undressing her. In the nearby bathroom, she finds a wash cloth and soaks it in warm water. When she returns, Emily is staring up at her sleepily. Jenna kisses her lips lightly and goes on to give her a sponge bath. She looks curiously at Emily's beautiful curly red pubic hair and compares it to the drab brown hair on the dean's head, still set in a bun. She murmurs, "Soon you will be free my new, new love," and undoes the pins from Miss Hausenplat's bun.

"My love..." Emily echoes with a contented smile, eyes closing. She feels a small warm body cuddle next to her. She knows it is Jenna of the silky nylons pressed against her thighs. She sleeps, soundly sleeps, as Jenna finally takes her leave ensnared, happily, in the web of her own seduction.

Part 7, Knock! Knock!

The porch light shines on two worried faces peaking in through the ornate glass door of the stately house on 4567 N. Pepperbridge Lane. No Jasmine, no Miss M, nor even Jenna are there to protect them from the ordeal of the "interview" with Miss Hausenplat.

Squirming like novice Mormons ready to present their case for salvation, they ring the bell. Through the bevelled glass an unfamiliar figure walks toward them. They see splashes of color as a youthful woman, her hair a vibrant red, opens the door and smiles at them hesitantly.

"We're here for the interview with Miss Hausenplat." Rachel says.

"I'm Emily Hausenplat," she says. "You must be Rachel and you're Janie," looking from one girl to the other. "Please come in. I'm sorry about the lateness of this interview. I made a mistake. I tried to contact you for a more convenient time, but neither of you could be reached."

"It's OK, Miss Hausenplat. We could come back...?" Janie adds hopefully.

"You're here now, so why don't we chat? Don't be nervous. You'll be surprised about what I have to say. Come in..."

They follow her into a formal living room. She motions them toward a flowery sofa. "Have a seat, won't you please, while I get us some tea?" In a moment, she returns with a tea service. "Please call me Emily. A few days ago, I would have been Ms. Hausenplat, a very formal and, I'm sorry to say, unyielding dean of discipline at Clemerson." She pauses watching the girls carefully. "Now I find we share a bond, and that I cannot chastise you without unfairly berating myself."

She pauses, knells on the floor in front of the coffee table and pours the tea, cup after cup, slowly, a faraway look in her eyes, eyes that shine with barely concealed tears. Setting the pot down, she stares at the steaming cups, lost in thought. Finally, she sighs, and looks at them, her eyes downcast, humble, "I could easily hide my mistake, offer you some platitudes, and return to the tortured existence I've led for many years."

Rachel and Janie are like statues, stilled by the presence of something unusual: The possibility of an unvarnished truth. Unconsciously, they reach out to each other and hold hands.

"After the gossip about your lesbian activities and that video, I had a plan. I think I wanted to seduce you but I'm afraid instead I might have wanted to coerce you--to force myself on you and take advantage of my position. Now no more plan. Instead, this 'interview' as I called it in my clever invitation is simply to apologize, to tell you I am truly sorry, to let you know you are free to go anytime."

"I do wish..." she stops, runs her fingers through her hair distractedly, "I wish you would stay and talk to me, please, if you can forgive my bad intentions."

The girls nod.

As Emily hands a cup and saucer to each of them, the tea's shimmering surface belies her trembling hand. Janie looks at Rach and reaches out to gently to steady Emily's hand. "We'll stay as long as you want." Janie says looking into Emily's eyes.

Rachel slides down to the floor until she is next to Emily. "Let's sit together here on the floor, like a Japanese tea ceremony." Janie joins her on the floor across the table.

"Miss Hausenplat..."

"Emily"

"Sorry," Janie goes on, "Emily, we didn't mean to embarrass the school...sometimes we just can't help ourselves."

"I know that now. You get so carried away the only thing you want is her body next to yours."

Janie and Rach look at each other, startled, "Yes!"

"So..." Janie says.

"So, before I wanted to trick you into bed (believe me, I had no real idea then what I would do with you once I got you there!), I still wanted to help you. Both of you are losing your academic edge. Your professors commented on this when I talked to them. We are a small elite college. We keep track of our students, especially those on scholarship."

She stops and looks seriously at both of them: the dean is back! "A few days ago," she goes on, "I wouldn't have understood your dilemma. Now I do. You are on honeymoon. You simply can't keep your hands off each other."

Janie and Rach eagerly nod their heads.

"What should we do about it?" Emily say, her voice even.

Refusing to be intimated, the girls giggle and say: "Broaden our horizons!"

Then they playfully ponce on Emily, rubbing first her shoulders and then her hands, one for each girl. Startled, but soon delirious, Emily is afloat in sensation, in a dream come true... As they touch her (oh, to be touched! Again! Jenna! Jenna! Jenna!) they comment, "You are so beautiful." Exchanging sultry looks to tease Emily, they begin to choreograph their movements: a stroke here, gliding fingertips there ... A comment as fingers slip through silky hair "I love your hair"... A kiss on her slender pale wrist, another longer kiss on the other wrist ... Soon a forefinger is extended onto full pouty lips, then another finger to another waiting mouth, soon each girl is sucking, tongues playfully intwining, as Emily watches raptly, wet fingers tingling ... Another comment, this one from Rachel, "Honeymoons can be shared you know"... And they move closer until each has her body pressed into Emily ... A breast against the shinny blouse as Janie's arm hugs her back ... Rachel's face snuggled into the warm hollow of her neck ... Hands always moving, fingers lightly touching tender, but oh so persistent, ever probing to find a warm bare spot, to touch her smooth skin, Emily! Emily! ... Never too intrusive, they are sirens on the shore of Emily ... calling out to her, riding her waves, but not yet plundering her depths. They want to, they want to very, very much.