86th and Park

Without warning Helen pushed Sandy onto the bed. "Get on all fours," she said. She went over to her closet and got her largest strapon, a monstrous black phallus that was ten inches long and two in diameter, one that probably did not have a real-life counterpart. She put it on and approached the bed. Sandy's eyes widened, half in alarm, half in excitement. Helen said, "Who's your daddy?" "You are, sir," said Sandy. Helen said, "Then suck my cock, little girl," and Sandy took as much of it into her mouth as she could. After she had fucked her mouth for a while, Helen told Sandy to face away from her. She knew Sandy was already very wet, so when she was positioned, she plunged the dildo halfway into her in one swift motion. Sandy cried out but quickly relaxed, and Helen found that she could take about eight inches comfortably. She permitted Sandy to masturbate while she fucked her, and that way she was able to have several orgasms.

A far-off garbage truck, an urban songbird, was heralding the coming day when the two women finally fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

F I V E

It was two o'clock in the afternoon before Helen and Sandy awoke. The proceeded to spend most of the next forty-eight hours fucking. Of course they took bathroom breaks, naps. One day (Wednesday? Thursday?) Sandy moved her duffel bag to the spare bedroom and unpacked a bit. They ordered in a pizza one time and Chinese another. Helen had to do some cleaning and shopping for Jane and Holly. But mostly they had sex. Helen bound and gagged Sandy every way she could think of. She beat her with a belt, whipped her. She dripped hot candle wax on her tits and pussy. She tied her breasts up and tortured them with nipple clamps and clothespins. She fucked her with a beer bottle. She fisted her. And she repeatedly penetrated her anally with a medium-size strapon. Between them they had more orgasms than they could count. Sandy was a champ. Helen had never been with anyone who could endure this much punishment. Holly, who was no slouch as a submissive and as a masochist, was no match for this girl.

Now it was Friday afternoon, and they lay together in bed, naked and spent. Pizza crusts, takeout containers and beer bottles littered the floor around them. Helen was telling Sandy about Jane and Holly, whom Sandy had not yet met. She told her she had known Jane for ten years. They had met at a private club in midtown called The Sisterhood of Sappho. She still went to this club and she said she wanted to take Sandy there sometime. She said she and Jane had briefly been lovers. "But that ended real quick. Both of us are way too strong-willed." She laughed. But they had remained good friends, and after a year Janed had invited her to move in, rent-free, and had put her on a great salary to be her housekeeper. Initially her pride had been stung, but she had quickly come to the realization, as she expressed now to Sandy, "Hey, I'm a black girl from Queens and now I'm Iivin' on Park Avenue. Can you dig that? I mean, my life is charmed." Jane had met Holly, at that same club, a couple of years later, and a couple of years after that they had gotten "married," and Holly had moved in. It had been that way, the three of them, for about five years now. Then Helen casually mentioned that she was Holly's sometime lover. "Jane knows. She approves. But she doesn't know that we sometimes fool around when she's not here. At least I don't think she knows. She thinks we just do it when she gives permission." She paused. "Holly ... she's cool. She's a little weird. But the important thing is she and Jane are really tight."

Helen raised herself on an elbow. She traced a circle with a finger around one of Sandy's nipples. The nipple, indefatigable, sprang to life. "Baby, here's what I've been thinking. Tell me what you think. I saw Jane this morning. I mean, I haven't seen her in, like, two days, and I told her about you. I told her about your situation. She didn't even know you were here! Can you believe it? I mean, this freakin' place has seventeen rooms. You can get lost here." She laughed and continued to circle the nipple. "Anyway, I asked her if you could stay here for a while, that I really liked you. I explained your situation to her. And she said yes! So what do you think? Do you want to move in? You know, you could take that spare bedroom. I don't use it. You could look for a job. I mean ... we could be together. I mean, I don't want to crowd you or anything ... well ... what do you think?"

Sandy looked away from Helen and tried to ignore that Helen's finger was making her pussy wet again. She already knew she would say yes but she wanted to pretend that she was thinking it over. She turned her head back to Helen. "Yeah, I could do that. Yeah, I'd like to do that." Helen grinned at her and gave her nipple a pinch.

"You know, I still got a few things down at Carol's apartment. I could get them. You know, I kept an extra set of keys to her apartment. I mean, I gave her keys back but she doesn't know I kept an extra set. It's daytime. Maybe she's not home."

"Yeah, baby, do that." Helen bounced off the bed and went over to her bureau. She opened the top drawer and grabbed about a quarter inch of twenties from inside. "Baby, you need some spending money. Take a cab down there, get your things and get your skinny ass back here ASAP. You know, we can have dinner with Jane and Holly tonight." She threw the money on the bed. "But in the meantime, you and me are gonna take a shower. I'm gonna wash you everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Let's get crackin'."

Sandy got up off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Helen swatted her on the bottom, playfully, but hard, as she walked by.

* * *

Sandy stood at a pay phone at the corner of Hudson and North Moore streets. Carol's building was on North Moore, cater-corner to where she now stood. The Duchess, the bar where she had met Helen, was just a block down Hudson. Carol had come to New York three months earlier to be a model, and the apartment she was living in had been provided by the woman who owned the modeling agency she was contracted with. This woman was Carol's new girlfriend. Sandy dialed Carol's number now and was relieved when the answering machine, with Carol's chirpy, stupid voice, picked up. She hung up without leaving a message.

Sandy and Carol had met in high school, in Detroit, last year when they were both eighteen. Carol had transferred from another school for her senior year. They had been inseparable from the first moment, right till the time Carol moved to New York, spending every afternoon after school sixty-nining in Carol's bedroom while her parents were at work. They had sworn undying love, and each had gotten a tattoo with the other's name over her heart. Carol had insisted she would send for her after she got settled in New York. She had said many times to Sandy, "You could be a model too. You're gorgeous." But Sandy never believed her. Whenever she looked in a mirror she just saw a plain girl. Carol, now Carol was gorgeous, and Sandy was always thrilled that such a beautiful girl wanted her.

Sandy approached the building, an old limestone-and-brick warhorse that had seen better days. She felt a tingling numbness, not knowing if she wanted to see Carol. Carol had said in phone conversations while they were apart, "New York will change you." Yeah, fuck it, things were definitely changing, she thought. She carried the duffel bag, now empty. She let herself in the front door and climbed the dirty stairs to the third floor. She stood outside Carol's door for a minute, listening for any sound from within. She heard nothing. She fitted the key in the lock.

She opened the door and stepped into the main room. The apartment was small and crummy, with creaky, crazily slanting floors. To the left, off the main room, was a bedroom that had almost no space for anything other than a bed. A tiny kitchen and a ridiculously small bathroom were to the right of the main room. She turned to close the door and froze. She thought she could hear the shower going. She turned back and was truly shocked. A woman, older, much, much older, maybe fifty or sixty, she thought, was standing just outside the bedroom, next to a rocking chair, about the only piece of furniture in the room. The woman wore only black thigh-highs and stiletto heels. She was tall and thin like Sandy, with small breasts and short, spiky black hair. She had a shaven pussy. A twisted smile carved her weathered face. She sensed that Sandy was all but paralyzed, so she spoke first. "I think I know who you are. You're Sandy, aren't you? Carol has told me all about you." Sandy stood mutely. "I'm Martina. I'm Carol's friend." She drew out the word "friend." "I own a modeling agency. Carol works for me. She is doing so well."

Sandy finally found power of speech. She spat back, "Yeah, I know who you are." She began to shake with anger. Carol had dumped her for this hag? Then she noticed Martina dangled a riding crop from her right hand.

Martina remained cool. In fact she sat in the rocker and draped her left leg over its arm, opening her pussy to Sandy's view. "You have every right to be angry with me, Sandy. But we should be friends. Carol told me you were beautiful. She was right. I can help you become a model."

"No way, lady."

"But you are very, very beautiful. I want to help you. Come and stand closer to me." Her dark eyes held Sandy's. Sandy began to melt inside. She felt famished. She moved closer. Martina rocked in the chair and swung the crop a little. "Turn around." Sandy turned around. "Take your shirt off."

"No way."

Martina continued to look at her. Sandy couldn't look away. Martina said again, "Take your shirt off." Sandy knew she was blushing. She felt humiliation everywhere in her body, but the humiliation was also exciting. She asked herself, Why can't I say no to this woman? Why do older women have this power over me? She removed her shirt. Once again she wasn't wearing a bra, and Martina said, "Oh, your breasts are beautiful, beautiful. Take everything else off." Sandy complied, without protest.

She stood in front of her rival, naked. Martina began to play with herself. She said, "Spread your legs." Sandy shifted her feet, and Martina hit her cunt a couple of times with the crop, not too hard. Sandy became very wet. "Pull your pussy lips apart." Sandy did so, and Martina hit her clit, harder this time. "Face away from me, bend over and show me your asshole." Sandy assumed the position. "You are so easy, Sandy, such a slut." Sandy was still in that position when Carol came in from the bathroom, drying her hair with her bath towel. She had been showering and was still naked. She didn't see what was going on at first, but when she did she dropped the towel and exclaimed, "What the fuck!"

Martina cackled. "Oh, God, you should see your face. Surprise, surprise. But you were right. Your friend is very beautiful. I want to make you both very big stars. Carol, come stand back to back with Sandy."

"Martina ..."

"Carol." She struck the floor with riding crop. Carol clearly was angry but she moved over to Sandy, and the two girls stood back to back. To Martina they were nearly sisters, the same height and the same lanky build. But Sandy's breasts were much fuller, and her long brown hair dwarfed Carol's short black styling. "Now face each other and kiss. You are two slutty little sisters. Kiss each other." She struck the floor again. Sandy and Carol turned to each other but avoided each other's eyes. They kissed, tentatively at first, then with increasing passion. "Finger-fuck each other." The girls did so as they kissed. They both became red-hot. "Carol, get on your knees and lick my pussy. I don't care if you just did it. Do it again." Carol got down, and Martina swatted her twice on the ass. She settled down in the rocker and then threw her right leg over its right arm. Carol concentrated on the older woman's cunt. "Sandy, lick your sister's asshole." Martina watched as Sandy buried her tongue in Carol's behind and was quick to come, fucking Carol's mouth with sharp jabs of her hips. Carol came too as Sandy tongued her anus and played with her clit. Sandy did not touch herself. Still, licking Carol's asshole, eyes closed, she came, for at least the twentieth time in the last three days, feeling degraded, thunderbolts crackling in her brain.

Afterwards Sandy packed her few remaining things hurriedly. Nothing much was said. As she was leaving, Martina handed her a business card and said, "Come and see me Monday. I want to test you."

In the hallway Sandy thought, She's disgusting. But I'll go there and do whatever she says. She's right. I am a slut. Then she remembered what Carol had said to her, weeks before. "New York will change you."

* * *

Sandy sat low in the back seat of the cab, her legs splayed, on the way back to the apartment. Her duffel bag was next to her on the seat. Though she had just had an orgasm with Carol and Martina she felt like masturbating again. But she didn't dare. This cab didn't partition the front seat from the back like the one she had ridden in with Helen that first night. She contented herself by idly rubbing her pussy through her jeans and letting her mind race.

She thought about going to Martina's office on Monday. She hoped Martina would degrade her even more the next time. She really liked Helen, loved her dominant ways, but she was more turned on by Martina's coldness and contempt, even her unattractiveness. She realized she couldn't be faithful to Helen, probably couldn't be faithful to anyone. There were too many women in New York, too many experiences to be had. She and Carol had never tried anything like d/s. She had been bluffing that night at The Duchess when she told Helen she was a sub. She had hardly known what the word meant, but she had needed a place to stay and knew she would have to please Helen that way. But being with Helen had opened her up. Now she understood, in every bone in her body, that she was not only a lesbian but a submissive, a slave, a slut, that she had no limits, or that she needed to find them, and that Carol, her first love and best friend, was becoming a memory. She laughed to herself and said under her breath, "Carol's a sub too. What else is that whole thing with Martina about? But I can outsub that bitch any day of the week."

She found herself staring at the back of the driver's head. He was an Indian or Arab or whatever. He wore one of those stupid turbans. Suddenly she was seized by a fantasy. She pictured herself being raped by this driver in this back seat. She dismissed the image from her mind. Where had that come from? She never fantasized about men. She was both excited and unnerved, but there was little time to think about it because the cab soon arrived at 86th and Park. She paid the driver and hurried to the elevator.

She threw the duffel on the bed in Helen's spare bedroom, her room though she had yet to sleep there. A note was on the bed, from Helen. It read, "Baby, come to the main kitchen at 7:00. I'll be making dinner. We'll eat with Jane and Holly, and you'll get to meet them. Love you. H." She knew she would have to lie to Helen about what had gone on that afternoon. She looked at a clock: 6:45. Just enough time to shower and change.

In the shower she masturbated. She thought again of the cab driver. This time she didn't resist the fantasy. She imagined his hot, sour breath on her face and drinking his semen as he forced his way into her mouth and came, crying out words she didn't understand. He had raped her. Her knees buckled as she climaxed. Out of the shower she put on a bra, a concession to Helen and her hosts, and her best pants and blouse. She returned to the bathroom to put on light makeup, again something she rarely did. She studied her face in the mirror. She liked what she saw. This is a first, she thought, and smiled at her reflection.

It was time to meet Jane and Holly.

* * *

Sandy went to the kitchen. Helen was tossing a big salad. "Ooh, baby, there you are. Don't you look good. Come and give me a kiss." They kissed, and Helen's tongue found hers. Helen broke off the kiss abruptly. "Damn, I can't be fooling around. I've got work to do." She pinched her nipple instead. "Oh, you put a bra on. What a class act you are." They laughed. "Look, baby, go out to the dining room and introduce yourself to Jane and Holly. They're already seated, and there's wine on the table. I'll be out in a minute with the salad, and dinner'lI be ready in a few minutes."

She entered the dining room. A woman, all in black, with black hair that had streaks of silver, sat at the head of the table, facing away from her. A very pretty young woman with light-brown hair sat to the woman's right. She said hello, and the woman in black stood and offered her hand to shake. "You must be Sandy. Welcome. I'm Jane Worthington, and this is Holly Christie." Holly simply said, "Hi." Jane continued, "Please be seated." She gestured at two chairs on her left, and Sandy sat in the second one. "Holly and I are having red wine, but there is a bottle of as white as well. Help yourself to whatever you like." Sandy poured herself a glass of white. Jane went on to explain that she was aware of Sandy's difficult circumstances and that she was welcome to stay here as long as she liked. At that Holly sighed exaggeratedly. Jane shot her a look. She repeated that Sandy was welcome to stay as long as she liked and asked if she had any job prospects. Sandy said no but that she might give modeling a try. Jane said she was a lawyer and particularly busy these days. She was certain she could find work for Sandy as one of her assistants if she wanted. Sandy thanked her. Holly snorted, and Jane snapped, "That's enough."

Helen came in with the salad and set it in the center of the table. "Why don't you guys get started on this. I'll have dinner out in a minute." The women helped themselves to salad. Sandy took this opportunity to study her hosts. Holly was certainly beautiful but was really standoffish. Their eyes met over the salad bowl at one point, but Holly immediately looked away. She looked at Jane. Jane wasn't beautiful but had a strong, self-confident presence and striking blue eyes. Delicious large breasts too. Her high sweep of hair made her look like a she-lion. Now those blue eyes were looking into hers. Jane smiled at her, and she returned it. She likes me, she thought. I'll probably do anything she tells me to.

Helen returned with dinner. She had made chicken breasts with wine sauce and grapes, with rice and broccoli. Jane said, "Bon apetit," and they began to eat. After one bite of chicken Sandy exclaimed, "Wow, Helen, this is really good. You're a great cook." Helen said, "Yeah, whoever thought a bull dyke could be good in the kitchen like she is in the bedroom." They all laughed, then began to eat in earnest.

Jane spoke. "Oh, ladies, before I forget. Next Friday is Memorial Madness, so we must all go costume shopping this week. Sandy, has Helen mentioned Memorial Madness to you?" Sandy shook her head. "Well, it's an annual party, a costume party with dinner and dancing, at a club we all belong to called The Sisterhood of Sappho. You're welcome to come if you like. Tell Helen, because I'll have to get you one of these rings. It entitles you to admittance." Jane showed her the Sappho ring, and she noticed now that all three women wore it. Jane continued, "It's called Memorial Madness but it's actually held the weekend before the Memorial Day weekend. It kicks off the summer season. We definitely let our hair down."

"It's pretty much an orgy," interrupted Holly.

"Yes, dear, it does pretty much become that. It is the one night of the year we permit ourselves to act on any impulse. Each of us checks her jealousy at the door. Do you see, Sandy?" Sandy nodded. Conversation became more random as they focused on the meal. After a while, Jane spoke. "Well, it looks like we've finished. Helen, you said we have lovely strawberries, blueberries and heavy cream for dessert. Is that right?" Helen said yes. Jane looked at Holly. "Holly, you've hardly touched your food. Is anything the matter?"