Aurora - Wings of the Goddess Pt. 02

Watson ran his fingers through her hair. "Later, Sweetheart, there's plenty of time."

Vicky ducked her head and sucked Watson's knob into her mouth. "Mmmm..." she hummed approvingly, "you taste nice."

"Err..." Watson hedged, "that's actually you."

Vicky reared upright in surprise. "Seriously? Is that what I taste like?"

"You never tried it? Fingered yourself and had a little taste?"

"Eww..." Vicky grimaced, turning pink, "no way. Though I have taught myself to... you know... help myself."

"You should try it."

"I think not."

"You don't know what you're missing."

Vicky went down on him again and after bobbing up and down a few times, looked up smacking her lips. "That's amazing. It actually tastes sweet."

"When you were a kid? Did you ever buy those pink musk sticks from the lolly shop?"

Vicky snapped her fingers. "That's exactly what it tastes like! Do you like it, Damo?"

"Your taste? I love it! And not just the taste."

"What else?"

"What do you mean 'what else'? The smell. The feel, when it's all nice and slippery. And the sight! Like a little pink flower all covered in dew. I'm telling you, Vick, it's a feast for the senses."

Vicky sat back, looking perplexed. "You know, before, when I first heard of it? I nearly threw up."

"Heard of what?"

"Oral sex. Pastor mentioned it in a sermon once and it was sickening. Even after... you know, after you did it to me... I thought the whole thing was a little bit yukky. But now, honestly..."

And there the statement was left hanging.

"I don't suppose there's any more Champers?" she suddenly asked.

Watson rolled off the bed and stood up. "There's one bottle left." he said, opening the top-loading freezer. "We might have to make an emergency dash into town."

Vicky took her glass and downed the contents in a couple of gulps. "Mmm..." she said, "thirsty."

Watson sat beside her and stroked her hair. "You seem to have developed quite a taste for the stuff. The old devil's brew."

Vicky nodded, offering her glass for a refill. "I love it." she said and heaved a gassy belch. "Reminds me of a certain night in Canberra."

"What happened? Score at the casino?"

"Oh, I scored alright, but not at the casino."

Watson swiped a finger across her shoulders. "You're all sweaty."

"I wonder why."

"Why don't we pop upstairs? Cool off in the cockpit for a while? It's lovely outside at this time of day."

"Awesome idea. Can you pass me my bag?"

Watson hefted Vicky's travelling pack onto the bed. Unzipping it, Vicky delved into the contents and pulled out a familiar green slip.

"Now that brings back memories." Watson said, fondly rubbing the fabric between fingers and thumb.

"I brought it especially. I haven't washed it, not since that night."

"Aww... that's so sweet."

"We don't need to dress up, do we?"

"Nuh..." Watson shook his head, pulling on a pair of board shorts, "We're all alone on this row."

"Probably lucky." Vicky snorted, "Imagine the noise complaints."

"Who's gonna complain?" Watson scoffed, "If anything they'd probably be jealous. Here, I'll climb up and you can pass me the bottle."

Vicky shimmied into her green slip and pinned her hair back with the hot-pink claw. Waiting at the foot of the companionway while Watson ascended, she dutifully handed up a half-bottle of French Champagne and two plastic flutes. Setting them carefully down, Watson looked up, straight into the eyes of a portly old man, standing on the after-deck of a big black motor-cruiser two berths down. Sitting beside him, all done up in a striped sailor's shirt, a frumpy old biddy sat clutching a wine glass, staring at Watson in wide-eyed dismay. In all the time he'd been in the marina, he had never glimpsed a living soul on this particular vessel, and could only assume the couple had turned up while he was downstairs bonking his guest. The cruiser's owner took a slurp from a neoprene-wrapped bottle of beer, then gestured at Watson with his chin. "You must be Damon."

Scaling the companionway behind him, Vicky emerged, giggling. She was half-tanked on the French Champagne and lurching to and fro as if they were ploughing through a two-meter swell. "Goodness..." she breathed, "this is gonna take some getting used to."

Clapping eyes on the flimsily clad young woman, easily half Watson's age, the old man next door almost crushed his beer while his goggle-eyed wife's jaw sagged. Suddenly aware of their presence, Vicky swept her fringe back and waved. "Hellooo." she hailed, then hiccupped, "Nice day for it."

For reasons known only unto herself, the neighbour's wife gave her husband a withering glare, then threw down her glass and flounced inside. Raising his beer in a trembling hand, the hapless old male took another slurp, his gaze fixed unblinking on the slim young female.

"Didn't hear you come in." Watson smiled lamely. "Hope the TV wasn't too loud."

Vicky shook her head and squinted at him. "T... TV?"

"Umm..." Watson floundered, "Nice boat."

"Nice enough."

"Right. Vick? Why don't we shoot into town? There's a special on Veuve at the bottlo."

Vicky looked around in mild confusion. "Now?"

"Uh huh," Watson nodded, herding her towards the hatch, "before they run out."

Vicky disappeared downstairs and Watson followed, the half-empty bottle clutched in one hand. Pausing at the foot of the companionway, he downed half the contents then handed the bottle over to his startled young guest. "Well," he said, swiping his mouth, "that was kind of awkward."

"What was?" Vicky asked between sucks on the bottle.

"The neighbours turning up."

Vicky froze. "Do you think they heard us?"

"Well they weren't using sign language."

Vicky covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. "Oh, Damon. Think of your reputation."

"Think of yours."

"So I'm a scarlet woman." Vicky sniffed, waving the suggestion away. "So I'm a Jezebel. Who cares? I've just had two fabulous fucks and before that you ate me to orgasm. You know what Tanny says. If they can't take a joke they shouldn't have joined."

* * *

Dinner downtown was an average affair. At the first restaurant, Tanya ordered a two hundred dollar lobster, only to send it packing when it turned out to be a glorified shrimp that looked like it had drowned in its own vomit. The restaurant-manager appeared on the scene, puffed up and blustering, ready to sort the customer out, only to be reminded of his legal obligations under The Act. Beck followed Tanya, mightily impressed, as she strode out, shoulders back and head held high. Rule one; don't fuck with the sisterhood.

They had much better luck at the place next door, where they satiated appetites honed by hours of rampant, dirty fucking. With dinner out of the way, Tanya quizzed a couple of locals in the process of paying the bill, on the best place to find a cleansing ale. It was only early, just going on for nine, so it was an odds-on bet that the two eye-catching females would still be safe outdoors. Tanya was careful to verify the suggested venue with the youngest female member of staff, further reassurance they wouldn't be walking into some sort of ambush.

Strolling hand in hand down the promenade, they pitched up at single story pub on the main drag, promising, what else, hot girls and cold beer, topless table service and strip shows every hour. While it looked a little seedy from the outside, it was clean and relatively non-violent, and the least visited by cops of all the town's watering holes

A big burly bouncer was standing at the door, smartly clad in a black cargo pants and crisp white shirt, with a smart black waistcoat over the top. He was tooled-up for duty, with a two-way radio slung off his hip and a curly-chord earpiece plugged in one ear. Beck pulled up in front of him, toe-to-toe, and craned her neck looking up as he stood towering over her, looking down.

Tanya looked him over, beaming. "No one shall pass Hassan..."

"ID, love?" the bouncer asked, ignoring her. Beck rummaged around in her green leather handbag and pulled out her learner's licence. The goon turned it over, studying it minutely for telltale signs of forgery. He looked at her. "Nuh!" he said and shook his head. "There's no bloody way you're nineteen."

Tanya and Beck exchanged a glance then Beck dug into her handbag once more. Pulling out her passport she handed it over, while Tanya stood smiling, enjoying the game. The bouncer shook his head. "Christ, you know you're getting old. When a nineteen year-old looks like she's fresh out of grade school."

"I've got my birth certificate as well if you like." Beck said.

"No, no. You win."

"Want to see mine?" Tanya asked hopefully.

"Who's this?" the bouncer asked Beck. "Your mum?"

Beck raised her hand, the diamond-sapphire ring glittering on her thumb. "She's my wife!" Beck said and Tanya's knees almost gave way.

"Not touching that with a forty foot barge pole." the bouncer sighed, pushing the door open to let them through. "Welcome, Ladies. Enjoy your evening."

A hush fell over the wide, open room as they walked in, Tanya in her black lace camisole and matching black miniskirt, Beck in her backless, floral-print dress. For a moment there was no sound, apart from the cretinizing glissandos of poker machines next door, and the rattle and clink of glassware behind the bar. Sizing up the room while studiously avoiding eye contact, Tanya took Beck's hand and towed her to an empty table near the end of the bar, with a good view of the low, semicircular stage. It was going on for the start of the next strip show, and they were eager to order drinks before the fun got under way.

This was Beck's first time inside a pub and her eyes were like saucers in the gloom. The atmosphere was a pungent fug of testosterone, sweat and alcohol, and they appeared to be the sole female patrons in the entire establishment. As they sat at a scratched, black, round wooden table, on padded red plastic chairs, a murmur filled the bar, that soon gathered in volume as conversations resumed. Tanya leant into Beck to make herself heard over the din. "What would you like to drink, Sweetheart?"

"Can I have a beer?" Beck asked.

"Wouldn't prefer something a little more exotic?"

Beck fluffed her hair up into a thick, unruly mane. "French Champagne?"

"You'd be lucky to get a French letter in this joint. Beer it is."

Head down, Tanya began rifling through the rat's nest in her handbag when she heard Beck suddenly gasp. "Look!" the little blonde exclaimed, grabbing her wrist. "It's Hayley! From the dress shop!"

So it was. And she was naked, but for scarlet lingerie boyshorts, thigh-high fishnet stockings and red high heels, and a smattering of gold and silver glitter all over her ample tits. She was heavily made up into the bargain, to mask the grinding tedium of her after-hours gig. She was on her way past with a tray of mixed drinks when Beck reached out and touched her elbow. "Hayley!" she cried, "It's me. Rebekah. From the marina."

When the young woman set eyes on them she visibly blanched. "Oh." she said, as her cheeks burned red under the foundation. "Hi."

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Tanya said brightly, instantly regretting it.

"Working." Hayley replied, clearly unhappy.

"You don't seem very happy to see us." Beck said, feeling hurt.

"No, yeah, I am. But it's all a bit embarrassing, isn't it?"

"What is, Sweetheart?" Tanya asked gently.

"You. Catching me. At my night job. Running beers in a titty bar."

"As if I care." Tanya shrugged. "Besides," she nodded at Hayley's big, perfect breasts, "I'm certainly not complaining about the view."

Hayley looked away in simmering humiliation. "Sorry guys. I better serve these drinks."

"Can you come back?" Beck asked, still holding her elbow.

"Do you want me to?"

"If you're allowed."

"Why not? As long as I keep the grog flowing."

"Can you talk to us? Between orders?"

There was a piercing whistle from a table nearby and a big, burly cane-farmer rapped the table. "Hurry up, Darlin'. We're dying of thirst over here."

"I'll swing by if I can." Hayley said in a low voice. "Thanks for being so cool."

They watched her go, the ripple of her firm, round ass accentuated by the red satin fabric. Beck rolled her eyes. "I'm a lesbian, Tan. I don't care what you say."

"Yeah," Tanya said dreamily, "I think I'm coming down with it too."

"Nice back."

"Nice legs."

They looked at each other and chorused, "Awesome tits!"

"You know," Tanya said and swiped her mouth, "I do believe I'm salivating."

"Is that all?" Beck retorted. "I think I just wet my pants. Did you see how bouncy they were?"

"You know," Tanya replied, "now you mention it."

Dropping her chin, Beck cupped her tiny breasts and tried to push them together. "Wish mine were like that."

Tanya gave Beck's hand a gentle slap. "We've already been through this. There is no improving on perfection."

Rather than wait for table service, Tanya sallied forth and returned with a brace of Coronas, a slice of lime stuffed down each of their throats. No sooner had she sat and they'd clinked bottles, than the lights went down, the music ramped up and a hundred big, burly, partially inebriated men gathered in front of the stage. A loud, garbled announcement waffled out of the Public Address, laying down the law; keep your hands to yourselves, keep your peckers in your pants, no name-calling the models and no cameras. This was followed by a cacophony of whistles and catcalls as the first dancer came on stage, but all Beck and Tanya could see was a barricade of big, broad backs.

In the end there was nothing for it but to get on their feet, but even then it was a stage too far for the four foot nine inch blonde. In a fit of frustration, Tanya pulled a chair out and stood Beck on the seat, holding onto the tail of her dress to help her balance.

Now she had a clear line of sight, Beck clapped eyes on a suicide blonde, already down to her thong, and let out a cheer. There was a yell from behind the bar and Tanya turned to see a tall, angry man gesticulating in her direction. "Get her down off that chair!" the manager yelled. "Yes, you! Tell that other lady to get down now!"

"She'll get down when all these other rude bastards get out of our way." Tanya yelled back.

"Get down!"

"Get fucked!"

Tanya went back to catching snippets of the show until a big, heavy hand landed on her shoulder. It was the bouncer. "Sorry, mate." he rumbled, "She has to get down."

"But she can't fuckin' see."

"It's the insurance. If she falls off and breaks her neck we're fucked."

"Well do something. We only sat here so we could see the stage. Then this mob just turned up."

"Jesus Christ!" the bouncer cursed, then picked Beck up around the waist and sat her on his shoulders.

Beck wriggled her bottom into position, then gave the top of his big shaved noggin a pat. "Best seat in the house!" she cried then took a pull of her beer. With a grandstand view over a sea of milling heads, she settled down to take in the show.

There was an uproar of clapping and cheering as a second girl walked on, already mostly undressed, carrying a jug of what looked like custard and brandishing a big, purple dildo. Beck leant to the side and shouted at the top of Tanya's head. "See that, Tanny?"

"Some of it." Tanya replied, jumping up and down on the spot trying to catch a glimpse.

"Remind you of anything?"

"I'll let you know when I can see."

Two or three male bystanders noticed her plight and Tanya found herself suddenly ingested by the crowd, escorted like a tasty little morsel into the belly of a big, noisy amoeba. Bending at the knees, the bouncer picked up their handbags and followed, making sure the two females didn't get separated. Bouncing up and down on her perch slapping her knee, Beck whistled between swigs of her beer, now and then patting the top of the bouncer's bald head.

The lumbering goon, a perfect gentleman, did nothing other than hold her ankles to keep her stabilised, while secretly enjoying the sensation of her pubic bone nudging the back of his cranium. The crowd was going wild as the two performers danced on stage, legs intertwined, drizzling the thick, creamy contents of the jug over their chests. A moment later they were on the floor, bumping and grinding, their eyes locked together in the only genuine gesture so far. Beck nudged Tanya her toe. "Call that tribbing?"

"Maybe we should give 'em some lessons." Tanya beamed.

"Let's go home and get O.J. then put on a show!"

After several minutes of unconvincing pussy play, the bored looking blonde got up on her knees, then leant back onto her elbows with her pussy bared. After skilfully deep throating the big purple dong, her co-worker moved in and subjected the blonde to a session of mechanical dildoing. They both faked orgasms, signalling an end to the performance, one on the end of the big plastic cock, the other by her own hand.

The music stopped and the lights came up. Climbing to their feet, the two girls stood, their naked skin running with sweat and custard. Holding hands, they took a bow, to an audience that had already largely lost interest. Beck clapped her hands overhead and let out a whistle, but they turned away without acknowledging and disappeared backstage, gathering up their costumes on the way. Lifting Beck by the waist, the bouncer hoisted her clear and set her gently down.

"Thank you, good sir." Beck dipped her head, "That was a-mazing."

"No worries." The bouncer rumbled. "Just no more standing on the furniture, okay?"

Beck saluted. "Aye aye, Captain."

Tanya patted his arm. "Thanks mate. Sorry 'bout the wet spot."

The bouncer grunted with laughter. "If that's the worst that happens tonight it'll be a good shift."

Tanya scrabbled around in her handbag and pulled out a fifty, then folded it neatly and slipped into his waistcoat. "For the drycleaning."

"No need for that, Miss, but thanks anyway."

They took their seats, still a little giddy with all the excitement. "Another beer?" Beck asked.

"How many have you had?"

Beck held up three fingers.

"Hmm... three beers... you're about to go critical mass. How you feel?"

Beck looked at Tanya with a big cheeky grin. "You tell me."

"Well... maybe one more."

"Where's Hayley?"

They tracked the girl down and Tanya waved for her attention, then raised an empty bottle and held up two fingers. Hayley replied with a quick thumbs-up then stepped up to the bar, waiting for a break in the traffic to order the beers. Tanya leant into Beck. "What did you think of the strip show?"

"That blonde girl was faking it."

"They were both faking it, Sweetheart. They're strippers, not girlfriends."

"I could do better."

"Well so could they, if they weren't being ogled by a hundred boozy boofheads."

Beck froze for an instant, open-mouthed. The third beer had gone straight to her disinhibition complex and she was barely clinging on to the rails. "Do you want to give it a go?" she asked breathlessly.

"What?"

"Fuck. Here. In front of everybody."

"Woah Nellie." Tanya waved her down. "I'm pretty sure that's against the law, even in this town. Anyway, those poor girls work hard for a pittance. Why go and upstage them?"

Beck slumped in her seat, a little crestfallen. She was still learning the rules of polite society- impolite society as well- and wasn't sure yet what should or shouldn't be done.

Hayley sashayed over with a tray, balancing two beers. "Here you go." she said, "That'll be twenty dollars." Tanya sat back, fishing around in her handbag, while Hayley bent to set the drinks down. "You must think I'm pretty desperate," she muttered bitterly, "working in a dive like this."

Tanya looked up. "No, Darling. We don't."