Sandy Ch. 06

I don't like submissions to extend to a fourth page, but there was no way to avoid it for this chapter; they just took too long doing everything they wanted.

On my way home, I invented a story about the evening at the bar, even including some details about my summer help colleagues and having dinner with a girl and another couple. I wasn't sure if the girl should be Sandy - obviously in a watered down form - or the one Jewish girl in the group, trying to remember something about her.

At home, however, no one was interested; my sister had gone to bed, and my parents just asked if I had had a nice evening. Somehow, their lack of curiosity seemed a little strange - especially my mother's - but it was convenient. I wondered if my dad had suggested that my activities were none of their business, but that suggested that maybe he had correctly assumed that it would be better for them not to ask.

With that thought, I went to bed, but then was wondering how it might work out with Sandy and Vivienne over the weekend. When I woke up the next morning, I wasn't thinking about them, but my cock was, it seemed, and then I was, trying to give him an impression of what I hoped would be the result of their discussion while I envisioned various scenarios.

We found one that satisfied us; it wasn't original - a version of something with Pam and Sukie or Martha and my sister - and seemed a bit far fetched for Sandy and Vivienne, but that made it all the better. Then I remembered that the family was going to Fire Island for the weekend and got up, a little apprehensive about how my sister and I would deal with returning to where we had had so much "fun" together, also with Martha.

But that worked out all right. Of course, my sister in her bikini was a reminder, also her smirks when we together, especially when we were alone on the beach, and she referred directly to what had happened and asked what I had done Friday night, not relenting until I told her, and then telling me that she did it to herself almost every night, grinning and saying that she hoped that I thought about that.

I did, right then, rolling towards her on my side so that he wasn't so obvious to every passer-by. She noticed, of course, and I wanted her to, but still was surprised when after a glance around she slid her hand over and for a moment held him, as she smirked and winked at me.

We managed to sidestep any problems when our parents were around, even when we were all playing scrabble, and she played "CANT" instead of the possible "CUNT," just glancing at me with her eyes as she started to place her letters. I even managed to repress any reaction when my father glanced at me with a man-to-man expression, since the alternative was so obvious and would have brought a double-word score. When Mother then played "PUSS" on the U, pleased with her score, he glanced at me again, and then avoiding doing so as he added a Y.

I didn't have to glance at my sister to know that she had snorted silently, and I also had the impression that my mother had recognized the not so innocent meaning of the word, but she concealed any such thoughts by remarking:

"Oh, that's good; I guess I helped you use your Y."

While I noted the score, I felt my sister's foot touch mine under the table, but then it was my turn, and everything calmed down.

Monday morning at work, I was already expecting Sandy's call when it came:

"Hot dogs at twelve? ... Good."

Her "good" sounded like more than just acknowledgement of my agreement to lunch. The morning seemed very long with my curiosity to hear what she had to tell. Then finally it was noon.

"Have a good weekend?" she asked perfunctorily, not waiting for a reply:

"It went better than I thought. I'd left the book with a bookmark on a page with something about threesomes, but she never looked at it, just noticed that the book was there. She immediately wanted something to drink and got a bottle of wine, and we quickly had a glass. I knew that she usually takes a shower first thing when she comes home, but this time she seemed to want to unwind first, and did, pouring herself a second glass and drinking, and then asked: 'You know what I could be doing now,' and glanced at her watch: 'right now?'

"Well, I won't repeat the whole conversation, but it was obvious what she was thinking about, more so, when she said: 'Well, I guess you did.' I agreed and told her that we were both sorry that it hadn't worked out for her. She was surprised that we had talked about her. Hm-hmm, I didn't tell her how, but she didn't seem to mind that we had, and then I remembered to say that I had asked about the girls, and that you had told me. She wanted to hear about that.

"Of course, my mentioning them, suggested that something did happen. At first, I just said that you had. 'With both of them?' she asked, and then wanted to know more, so I told her, slowly, letting her ask for more, and she did, remarking at the end - of the first time - that she must have gone to the wrong school. I agreed, saying something about Catholic inhibitions. She agreed and then went to shower and change.

"Oh, I was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. I was surprised to see her go from the bedroom to the bathroom without her bathrobe, only in her bra and panties, figuring that maybe the wine had led to her forgetting her bathrobe. But then I was curious how she would get back to her room, not in dirty underwear. She appeared then with her towel around her, glancing at me with a wry grin as she went back in the bedroom, and then returned in shorts and buttoning up an old blouse.

"She sort of apologized for having forgotten her bathrobe, smiling when I said that I was lucky that my Mom had insisted that I bring mine, since I seldom use it. She liked that, explaining that she only had worn hers - 'Catholic inhibitions' - with me there. So we quickly agreed that we could forgo them in the future. Then we got some bread and cheese and another glass of wine.

"When we had settled down with that, she asked if you had seen the girls again, and was surprised when I said that you had, wanting to know how and what happened. When I told her, she was really surprised about your having done it with both of them - 'no one watching for long.' Yeah, we had finished another glass by then, and when she remarked about wondering that the girls had been so familiar, I told her that they had told you that they did it together.

"That really, really surprised her, and she wondered if you knew how that had happened. When I told her, she actually seemed less surprised, and then surprised me, asking if I had ever touched another girl's breast.

"Of course, I haven't, and she looked a little triumphant - by now we had drunk too much - and said that she had, in her school, where they had to wear bathrobes when they changed and until they were in their shower stalls. But once she and her girlfriend were in a stall together - which was forbidden. They were fourteen, and both curious to see another girl naked. As she added, the thought of seeing a boy naked was so remote that it didn't even occur to them.

"So there they were, and her girlfriend already had more that she does now - 'ever will,' as she said - and she only had more developed nipples.

"She was giggling a little as she told this. And her girlfriend wanted her to touch hers, and, of course, she was curious and did, admitting that she liked it, that it was funny to feel her friend's stiff nipple in her palms. She said she held both of them. Yeah, she had liked that, and her friend had too. 'I bet,' I said, thinking that was good, that she had been willing to tell about it, probably because we had both drunk a little too much, but 'in vino veritas.' Viv snorted at my remark and then she admitted that she had forgotten - repressed - the incident till then, saying: 'girls just don't do that.'

"'But they do, those two did, ...' I replied: 'and more, - and still prefer men,' I added, when I saw her expression and her nipples, then, and before when I told about the girls, hm-hmm, and mine too. I didn't think I could arouse myself with my own story.

"Then we had another sip of wine - we were slowing down - and I mentioned that you wanted to take us both to dinner. She just asked 'when?' I was expecting her to ask if you really meant both of us, or some expression of misgiving, after last week, but no, so I said: 'anytime, whenever is convenient. Monday evening?' Then she did ask: 'Both of us?' 'Of course,' I replied, explaining that you wanted to return the favor of her cooking dinner. That must have reminded her of what happened after it.

"'I don't know,' she said: 'what will he think of me, you know?' I assured her that you wanted to see her again and thought that that had been very nice, that you wanted to see her again, see more of her, - yeah, I said that - and mentioned that you had wondered about the color of her nipples. They popped out again, and mine did too, at having dared to mention that, afraid that I had gone too far, but after a moment, Viv just snorted with a funny smile and asked what color you had imagined they were. When I replied: 'more tan than pink ... like mine,' she almost laughed and said: "He's right. I still don't know how we got like that. ... If he wants to, sure, Monday. It may be a little funny.'"

By now we had again eaten two hot dogs, and my comments to Sandy's story had only been encouragement for her to continue, but now I replied:

"Yeah, it will be, but if she wants to, that is great. It really did work out well."

"Um-hmm," Sandy agreed with a satisfied smirk, adding that she had suggested that I come for a drink first - as we had discussed - and Vivienne had agreed. We had to go back to work then and parted with, smirking after we both said: "Till this evening."

The afternoon went just as slowly as the morning with my wondering and envisioning how the evening could go. I thought that I ought to shave before we went out - or didn't! – and wondered how the rest of their weekend had gone, recalling my own. With such distracting thoughts, somehow I managed to get my work done, and then it was five o'clock.

Sandy and I met as before, and I noticed that she had again taken off her panty hose as she took up her story again:

"Hi. Oh, I never got to the rest of the weekend ..."

"I've been wondering all afternoon."

"I guess we were pretty groggy, but we made some supper and had a beer with it, and then watched TV, sitting together on my sofa bed. Yeah, I'll admit, after all the wine, I kind of wanted to touch her: rub thighs, or feel her touch me, but we didn't. Then she noticed the book again and asked if we had looked at it together. I said no, that we didn't have to, which made her almost giggle; she had drunk more than I had. 'You two really hit it off fast,' she remarked, and I agreed, and then told how - with the shower.

"I'm not sure what I was thinking at the moment, whether I was bragging or showing off, or had considered that it might give her ideas - hm-hmm! - with you or me. I would have. Of course, she was surprised - again - but just snickered and then after a moment of hesitation admitted that she had once gone straight to bed with a passenger she met on a plane: 'but not like that, we went to dinner and danced, first. He was staying in the same hotel with us.'"

"Like we said, ..." I replied: "convenient, being in the same hotel."

"Yeah, but she said that she felt sort of bad about it the whole time, even though she did it."

"That's a pity, wrong school."

"Um-hmm, that's what I said, and she agreed."

I interrupted Sandy and ducked into a bottle shop, returning with a bottle of wine. She grinned and remarked:

"Just in case."

"Um-hmm. And then?"

"We tried to watch TV, but were both drowsy; I guess I dozed off. She nudged me and said she was going to bed, and then we used the bathroom, one after another, and went to bed. In the morning, I had to go, earlier than usual - all that wine, but I felt well - and did, and then started my shower. I guess she really had to go, too; she knocked, and I said she could come in. We had never been in the bathroom at the same time before. So she did, snickering a little as she went.

"I knew she only washed when she had showered the evening before, and expected her to leave, but she didn't. I guess I did know that she usually slept in a pajama top and panties, but I was surprised when she stayed and started running the water in the washbasin, still washing when I had finished my shower, turning off the water and wondering if she expected me to dry myself behind that shower curtain, but when I reached for my towel, she said: 'That's all right, I'm half naked too.'

"So I stepped out of the shower, and she was, with only her panties on, so I dried myself, turned away from her, a little surprised at her new attitude after our wearing bathrobes all the time. Of course, I didn't mind her seeing me, rather liked it, but didn't expect her to be suddenly so nonchalant about it, and we could really only see each other's back, she, mine, in the mirror - if she was looking. But then when I turned to hang up my towel, standing so that she could see my boobs, and where I could see hers in the mirror, I saw that they were aroused. Hm-hmm. She really wasn't all that nonchalant about it. They are more beige.

"I didn't say anything, of course, just picked up my shorty top - that's all I had slept in - and left the bathroom. I found a clean pair of panties and put them on, and then my shorts, when Viv came in the room, looking a little embarrassed, still in just her underpants, with her top in her hand, and her nice beige nipples still aroused. They look just right on her. She murmured: 'I guess if you can, I can,' and hung her PJ top in the closet, almost as though to prove she could, rather than immediately putting something on. 'It's just nice,' I replied and mentioned that I didn't wear much when she wasn't there.

"'Really?' she said: 'I sort of wanted to once when the air conditioning didn't work, but it just felt too strange being almost naked in the living room.' When I told her that Wednesday evening was the first time we had kept our clothes on any longer than necessary, she snickered and replied: 'The way it was going, well, you might not have then.' 'Um-hmm,' I agreed: 'that's the way I felt, too, ... and he must have too, having been like that with those girls and that happening.'

"Her nipples stiffened again at the mention of them. By then, we both had shirts on. She snorted with smile and agreed: 'I guess so, ... and then with you holding him. I never did that, but I guess I told you, already. ... Oh, I guess I was kind of in the way, sorry.' I replied that since I had my period, that was no problem, that it had really been good, 'the best thing that could have happened.'

"She snorted again with a smile, but then suggested that Monday evening, this evening, it would be different, and offered to go out by herself. Of course, I insisted that she didn't, that you wanted to take us both out, and that we didn't always have to ... "

"I'm not sure, ..." I interjected with a grin: "but we can try."

"That's what I was thinking. We're almost there, but I haven't finished; let's walk on a ways."

I agreed, curious, of course, to hear the end of her story.

"Well, the rest of the day, we didn't talk about it, but when we were getting ready to go to bed, both changing together - for the first time - but not obviously looking, she mentioned again that she wasn't so sure about this evening, and again this morning, while I was showering. I had left the door open, and she came in, again suggesting that she could go out, but, of course, I said she shouldn't, that that would be impolite to you, since you had invited her to join us. 'I don't know, ...' she said: 'It'll be kind of funny, seeing him again after what happened last week.' 'It'll be all right, nice, ...' I replied: 'and if we go out, nothing will happen.'"

"But if we don't?" I asked.

"Hmm! That's what occurred to me, while I was saying that, and maybe to Viv, who just snorted with a nod. By then I had stepped out of the shower. She had been waiting with her top unbuttoned and took it off and then her panties while I dried myself."

"Sounds like she's trying to peel off that veneer from her Catholic schooling."

"Um-hmm, she's working at it. She didn't turn to face me, but smiled a little wryly at me in the mirror before she got in the tub. Anyway, after breakfast, she said she would make cocktails for us - in a couple of minutes. I'm going to shower as usual ..."

"But after the first cocktail has been served, ... and I should shave."

"Yeah, of course, and yeah, 'good idea,' hm-hmm, take your shirt off, ... and your undershirt." "While you're showering?"

"No, a bit too blatant; Vivienne might just disappear."

"And you wear something when you leave the bathroom."

"Yes, you're right. Well, here goes."

We had returned to her building. In the elevator, she snickered and said:

"I'll keep them on this time," and then we were there. [In an earlier chapter, her panties came off in the elevator.]

Vivienne came to the door, when Sandy had opened it, greeting her with a "hi," and then me with a smile and:

"Nice to see you again," that sounded like it was what she routinely said to airline passengers she recognized. When I responded:

"And nice to see you again. That's nice, what you have on," I thought I saw her nipples respond, but not like before, and assumed that she was wearing a light bra under her jersey V-neck top as she replied:

"Thank you, ... and thank you for inviting me to dinner."

"I would have last week, if I had thought of it, but yours was delightful, thank you. ... Oh, I brought a bottle of wine for you two, ... for whenever."

"That wasn't necessary, but thank you. Mmm, that looks good, a lot better than what we serve on United."

"I hope so."

Vivienne took the wine in the kitchen, and Sandy hung up my jacket, and then Vivienne returned. For a moment there was an awkward silence, and then Vivienne asked Sandy if she wanted to take a shower first. She answered that it could wait. After a moment, Vivienne suggested:

"Well, then let's start. What would you like?"

"What would you suggest, do you like?" I responded.

"I'd like a Martini, but if you'd like a whiskey or gin and tonic, you can have what you like, ... well, that's it, but either Scotch or Bourbon. And you, Sandy?"

"I'd like a Martini, too."

"Me too," I agreed, for a moment thinking that it was the man's duty to make cocktails, like at home, but then remembered that Vivienne must have experience as a stewardess when she replied - again a bit professionally:

"Be right up," and turned and went in the kitchen.

Sandy and I smiled at each other. She glanced around, my eyes following hers and then returning to her as she raised her eyebrows questioningly and gestured with her hands a rectangle and as though she were opening a book, then tossing her hands up slightly with a shrug. I understood that she missed the book that she knew had been on the coffee table in the morning, Masters and Johnson. Then she went in the kitchen to see if she could help, leaving me to wonder how the evening would progress.

Sandy came back with a couple of dishes of nuts as I heard the sound of the cocktail shaker in Vivienne's apparently experienced hands. She looked like she wanted to say something, but then Vivienne joined us, in one hand a tray of glasses and dish of olives, in the other the cocktail shaker.

"That sounded professional," I remarked as she started to pour.

"We learn how to for serving in first class. Funny, when I was looking for nuts to serve, I found myself looking for the little bags of them we serve on the flights."