The Brass Statuettes Ch. 01

Brenda kicked off her sandals and unbuttoned the wraparound skirt. "That Texas drawl always seems to come back to you in the late afternoon, Gloria," she advised her friend.

"It the drinks, Ah giss. They make me forget t' hold it back," Gloria answered. "They make me feel like Ah'm still a day-bu-tant ag'in, back in Dallas. Thanks for remindin' me."

Brenda didn't answer; she knew better. A little joke or quip taken the wrong way would not soon be forgotten and would have a price. It was best to say nothing. She slipped into the clear water. The coolness helped take away some of the buzz from the one or two, too many drinks. She slowly made her way to the opposite end of the pool doing a relaxing breaststroke. The coldness felt so good on her prized breasts as they pushed the water out ahead of her.

As she finished the lap in the shallow end she turned and saw Gloria easing herself into the water, now stripped of her clothes and in her one-piece suit. Brenda started out on the return trip to the deep end. Gloria waited for her.

She took her time finishing her lap, taking her time. Near the end, she submerged for the last few strokes, to where Gloria waited. As Brenda surfaced, she rubbed herself on the other woman, bringing breasts together. She broke the water and their faces were inches apart.

"If you want to dry off, I've got some towels in the exercise room," Gloria whispered.

Brenda didn't answer, only backed away and hoisted herself out of the pool. Gloria always insisted that they pretend these sessions popped up, spontaneously. Brenda knew it was a predictable outcome; it was going to happen from the moment she took her seat on the veranda hours before. Gloria climbed out using the ladder in the corner. Brenda followed her to the small mini-gym near the pool. Gloria locked the door behind them.

The little gym was well appointed. In addition to a rowing machine and stationary bike, there was a massage table and a leather couch and matching easy chairs in the corner with wall-to-wall carpeting all around..

Gloria moved to the massage table and leaned back against it. She was slightly shorter than Brenda, and an unknown amount of years older. She had large breasts and a trim figure meticulously tended. Her hair was bright blonde, not her true color. Brenda had seen it all before.

The two women embraced and shared a kiss. Brenda felt Gloria's tongue slip between her own lips. She allowed Gloria to play there for a while until she snaked out her own tongue and licked around Gloria's lips. As she did, she felt her bikini top unsnap. They broke the kiss and Gloria pulled the straps from her shoulders. Brenda reached out to reciprocate and bare Gloria's breasts, but her mentor stopped her.

"Wait, you know I like to do you first," Gloria whispered.

Brenda allowed the older woman to cup a breast in each hand, rubbing her thumbs over the nipples. Brenda closed her eyes as sensations came to her. She felt the pleasure of them being tenderly lifted, the kisses and nibbles on the sensitive areas. Mostly, she savored another person, even a woman, appreciating and savoring them.

It wasn't that Brenda preferred lesbian sex to the usual kind—she could see no harm in it. After all, girls danced with one another as teens when no young males had the courage to venture to the dance floor. In those learning days they practiced kissing one another as they huddled behind locked bedroom doors and they tired of Tiger Beat and Cosmopolitan. It was necessary, lest they be embarrassed when, at long last, the real thing finally came their way. They learned then that there were times that a woman just knew how to do some things better. Their young men assumed them to be more experienced than they were. That led to less gentle moments at the breaking of virginity, and from that moment they saw sex as it was and was meant to be. It was a short step to more intimate things with those who knew their bodies best. It was so much safer than sex with a boy—or a man—when pregnancy loomed in her youth and other hurts in adulthood.

"Everyone needs to get off now and then," she said to herself as she felt Gloria's lips on her own, a signal that it was time for giver and receiver to switch roles.

She reached for the straps of Gloria's suit and this time the arms were passively held aside. The one-piece was wet, so it stuck to Gloria's skin and took some effort. Brenda worked it down, deciding to go the rest of the way right away. It suited Gloria, too. As Brenda tried to roll the spandex over the hips, Gloria took over. She peeled off the suit and threw it aside. Brenda hooked her thumbs in the waist of her bikini bottoms to pull them down to match, but Gloria stopped her with a gentle touch on the hand.

"Not yet—we'll get to it later," she promised.

Brenda looked at the nude woman before her, the large breasts hanging, available; below was the beckoning thatch of pubic hair, darkened with wetness from the swim. It marked the gateway—to many things. It meant pleasure and release for one; it was favor and indispensability for the other.

She didn't really know how old Gloria was. She was certainly younger that Alvin's sixty-two years—it was his second time around. A good guess was forty-two or three, but one couldn't be sure. Brenda never got over how well Gloria preserved her figure with her regimen of workouts and dieting. At thirty-six, she knew that soon she would be doing the same thing for the same reason.

Gloria's nipples had hardened; she panted in anticipation. Soon Brenda would pleasure them as Gloria had done for her. She decided, however, to change the routine that day.

She wrapped her arms around Gloria and kissed her, open-mouthed, with soulfulness. Two sets of breasts met as the space between them closed together. Brenda's draped over Gloria's with the difference in height. Gloria wrapped her arms around Brenda's neck, but otherwise let herself be served to the coming pleasure. The kiss continued. Brenda reached down and cupped the vulva; it made Gloria moan. It fit neatly into her hand; she moved it with a slow, rotating motion. Gloria pressed herself into Brenda's hand harder and spread her legs a little to allow access. Brenda dipped a finger between the folds, taking some moisture from the interior and spreading it on the clitoris. All the while she kept her grasp of the vulva.

Gloria pressed herself again against Brenda's hand, a demand for more. She grasped her arms tighter around Brenda's neck. She was panting heavily, issuing little purring sounds.

The sensation of breast on breast was a pleasant one that Brenda was determined to enjoy. She knew Gloria's routine. With the earlier decline to remove the bikini bottom, Brenda already knew that it would be only a one-way delivery of release on that hot afternoon. It wasn't always that way, but it was often Gloria's choice, especially when she was upset about something. The earlier tirade over the uncooperative Trudy Bennett had enabled Brenda to predict what would happen. The contact of breasts would have to be enough.

Brenda pressed ahead with the task that she knew so well. She placed her mouth over Gloria's again, not from affection, but to suppress spoken commands. She was willing to serve the mistress, but coveted the final freedom to do her job as she knew it without instruction. Through the joined mouths, Gloria issued stifled mews to express gratitude for her pleasure.

Brenda felt Gloria's legs open just a little wider, a sign to her that she was performing as expected. Gloria's hands pressed her down at her shoulders. Brenda knelt before her, the slippery slit and matted hair inches from her face. Without hesitating, she grasped the buttocks and pressed her face in. Her tongue found Gloria's special place. From above, came a gasp, then another. A pair of hands pressed the back of Brenda's head. The hips flexed and pressed, adjusting the angle and pressure. Brenda kept to the task without tiring. As each minute passed, Gloria's sounds and pressing told her that her escape was not far off. Soon, Brenda was holding her up with her arms thrown around her pelvis as Gloria gradually lost control. Inside, Brenda smiled because she knew that was just how it was supposed to be.

After a while, Gloria released her hands from the back of Brenda's head. Placing them under her jaw, she gently pressed up, signaling Brenda to stand.

"Finish me, darlin'," Gloria commanded and begged. She hopped up on the massage table and lay down on her back. Her legs were bent at the knees and spread wide. Her feet were planted at the edge of the table.

"Shall I get the harness?" Brenda suggested, hoping anew for her own chance at release.

"No—no," Gloria answered in a raspy whisper. "Just eat me!"

The command disappointed Brenda. She would have enjoyed doffing her bikini bottom and mounting Gloria for the grand finale. It was Gloria's afternoon, however, so Brenda complied.

She wedged her hands under the pelvis and pulled herself down to the wet vulva. She thrust out her tongue and thrust in hard. Gloria grunted and pressed up her hips. That made Brenda attack with greater vigor. Pressing—thrusting; it was a pendulum, swinging faster and longer on each stroke, until Gloria drew in a deep breath and kept pushing herself into Brenda's face. The moment arrived. It ended with a quick, high pitched cry. Then, Gloria eased her self back down, slowly relaxing, spent and temporarily satisfied.

Brenda laid her head on Gloria's belly, kissing the soft skin. She raised her hands to the large breasts above to caress them. Brenda's own breasts pressed between Gloria's thighs and she felt the pubic hair scratching the skin over her collarbone. Gloria stroked Brenda's temple in a gesture of thanks.

"Oh, that was so good, darlin'," she murmured. "I truly needed it—feel so much better."

Brenda said nothing, just started feeling restless in the uncomfortable posture.

"I'm so sorry that we didn't get to you," Gloria apologized. "Next time, we surely must."

"I have to get going pretty soon," Brenda answered. "I want to get home before Blake."

Juana was cleaning up the veranda and saw the two women come out of from the mini-gym together. Brenda noticed her avert her eyes as she and Gloria passed. Brenda knew that somehow the old woman had deciphered their secret. "Those inscrutable Mexicans," she thought to herself. She wondered how Gloria had allowed the maid to exist in the house with such an attitude. "I would have fired her long ago."

*********

As midnight approached, sleep was an invited guest, but would not come in. Trudy sat upright in her bed, pondering her restlessness. She was alone; Frank was in New York with Alvin, conferring with investment bankers. Their daughters, Patricia and Margaret, were asleep in their rooms. Inside, the house was cool because of the air conditioning; outside, the heavy air was still and hot.

Her husband had been away on business many times. As it was, his absence this time was only two-days. Tomorrow night he planned to fly home on the red-eye. She wondered why the emptiness of her bed affected her so much at this moment after all these years of periodic aloneness. She never enjoyed solitude, as some might. For Trudy, private feelings were for sharing.

The coolness irritated her a little. She accepted air conditioning as a necessity in the Texas summer, but it always occurred to her that it produced artificial air. She walked onto the balcony outside the master bedroom, closing the sliding glass door behind her. Even though the night was hot, it felt good to Trudy as she stood barefoot in her cotton nightie. She thought she might go downstairs and get a cold drink from the refrigerator. She shrugged it off, preferring to just stay outside awhile and listen to the night.

The cicadas were busy singing their nocturne. Not even a whisper of a breeze stirred. The full moon shone brightly, and it was the only light in the back of the house. She and Frank spent many warm nights on this balcony, relaxing with a drink or two before bed. She was starting to feel better already.

Below, a slight glimmer of moonlight reflected from the water in the swimming pool. When she listened carefully she could hear the quiet hum of the motor of the filtering equipment. A smile spread across her face as she thought of her midnight swim with Frank three nights before.

They had just returned from the corporate soiree at Alvin's and Gloria's house. It had been Frank's big night as he was formally installed in his new post. She wore her royal blue, halter-style gown that the other wives disdained so openly and silently envied. She was sure that it pleased Frank. It was a warm night, like this one. The house was empty; the girls were overnight at their grandparents' house.

Frank suggested a midnight swim, and they both knew what that meant. He undressed her near the door to the back yard. They made love in the black, cool water; it was a gift of passion, and lust and pleasure. Even after nearly twenty years, they never tired of one another. She could always predict his every move, yet each time there was some new emotion or sensation. Perhaps it was the confirming renewal of the old ones that provided the thrill. When it was finished, they gathered up discarded clothing and marched to their bedroom where they made love again. After that, sleep came easily.

"Frank would know what to do with a woman who can't get to sleep," she said to herself, almost out loud, still with the broad smile that such thoughts had brought to her.

She finally understood her insomnia. Satiation gave birth to new longing. Trudy sighed. Frank was in New York; it was reality and she would have to wait.

A thought occurred to her. A quick dip in the pool might cool her off; get her mind on something else. If careful, she could do it quietly without waking the girls or the neighbors. It would be just the ticket—she would do it. She returned silently to her bedroom to prepare.

She carefully made her way through the upstairs hallway and down the stairs, covered by her terrycloth robe, towel in hand. She was careful to make no noise. If she woke the girls, it would ruin everything. Trudy knew every step, every creaky floorboard in the house. The girls would not wake up.

She was still remembering how Frank disrobed her the other night. It was a sensual preparation, equal in many ways, to the final act. She pondered his various lovemaking styles—he had more than one. He was stocky and muscled, like a bulldog. She loved it when he would seize and take her, primal and driven. He would be determined and aggressive, losing himself to all else but her. He was strong; and she would allow him to overpower her and have his way. She was lean and strong, herself, so the voluntary surrender was even more satisfying. He would surrender, too—not physically, of course—but all the reserve that he guarded so carefully from all but her.

Frank could make love sweetly and tenderly. They might lie together for a long time, savoring the joining, allowing time to bring climax to them like a zephyr in a garden. Sometimes he would lie atop her; at other times it was reversed. Often they would start one way and end the other. At the proper moment, she would fill his ears with a song of delight and then he would fill her with a low-pitched sigh of satiation.

Sometimes Trudy was the tigress, capturing him and letting all things loose. Frank would be excited by the challenge. At those times it was pure—an outburst of energy and pleasure—exhilarating and, in its own way so relaxing. It was that way in the pool Friday night after the soiree. Trudy's thoughts turned back to the present as she stepped quietly through the door to the outside and the pool. Trudy supposed that way was the best, but would rather not have to choose.

"I'd bet that Frank wishes he was here instead of New York," she assured herself as she tiptoed over the flagstone walk.

She arrived at the pool and took a quick glance behind her to check the windows of her daughters' rooms. They remained darkened; she was unseen. She let her robe fall from her shoulders to the cement. She was nude. She looked down into the refreshing, cool water. In a certain way, Frank was still in there. "Now I know why I couldn't sleep."

The air touching her bare skin was good as she stood motionless at the side of the pool. She was tempted to touch herself, but fought off the urge. "I'll save that for Frank." She lowered her long body down to sit at the edge of the pool. The coldness of the water teased her senses as she dipped in her feet and calves.

Without a sound, she hoisted herself up on her locked arms and then silently let her whole body glide silently into the water. She raised her hands over her head so that she would sink all the way to the bottom.

Being nude always gave her a different feeling when she swam and the darkness of the bottom blotted out all distractions. The coldness brought sensation to every nerve, especially her nipples and center as she lay on the bottom holding her breath. The water enveloped her body, every fine, near-invisible hair on her skin. She allowed the envelopment to overtake her and it became like Frank taking her. She let herself to float to the surface and rolled over to float on her back, relaxing her arms to dangle beneath her.

She took a deep breath for buoyancy. Her chest heaved her breasts skyward, out of the water. She felt them, and thought how they might have excited Frank, if only he were there. Her legs dangled below her and they casually splayed apart. The cool water invaded the opened crevices. She could not have contrived the scene more perfectly. "Maybe he's thinking the same thing right now."

She righted herself in the water, easily treading in place. She was tempted once more to touch herself. She stopped again. "I'll save it for Frank," she repeated. It could never be as good as Frank. The thought of it—of what was stored in her memory and her expectations—excited her. She wondered to herself if she was wise to allow herself to dwell on it. The reverie brought such vicarious pleasure—it was nearly real, but she feared that she might never get to sleep in the state to which she had brought herself. She swam to the side of the pool

She rested her arms in the overflow channel and relaxed. An unexpected gush of pleasure suddenly hit her. At first, it was confusing, and then she realized that she had accidentally come to rest where the filtering pump jetted water back into the pool. She started to move away, but hesitated. She was aroused and that jet of water felt so good. "Just a few seconds," she thought.

She lowered herself a few inches so that the full force of the water hit her just right. It was going to be only a brief indulgence, but she stayed a few seconds more after that. It was so hard to pull away.

"Oh, what the hell..." she uttered to herself in final surrender. The magic water pummeled her clitoris. She gave herself over to the unrelenting pleasure, thinking of her and Frank in that same pool a few nights before. It wasn't long before she climaxed. She had never touched herself—just let the water's infinite fingers bring her to it. When it happened she buried her face in the water's breast to drown her cry of pleasure. It surely wasn't her best-ever climax, but it was enough to unloose that which needed releasing.

It was over; she was satisfied. She lifted herself out of the pool and walked to where her towel and robe lay waiting. She expected a twinge of guilt at having been pleased in this way. She tried to feel it, but it just wasn't there to be felt.

"Well, I'm pretty sure that Frank would have wanted me to."

She toweled herself dry, put her robe back on. She went back to bed, ready for sleep.