Catering Mrs. Fine

"Not with us, with her, later."

"And now you want to this, despite us?"

"It's up to you."

Mrs. Fine banged on the door again. This time it opened and she stumbled in. Hands clenched into fists, she quivered with rage.

"You dogs!" she said.

I looked at her, this raving troll. A shaky excitement ran up my spine.

"Do it, Meg. Kick her ass good."

Meg closed the door and flipped the dead bolt.

She said, "Now, you have our complete attention, Mrs. Fine. What do you want to say?"

"There's the door," said Mrs. Fine.

"Blouse pulled out, buttons undone. Are you planning to walk around again, half naked?"

She was stalking Mrs. Fine, circling, herding her into the carpeted area where the presentation had taken place. Mrs. Fine was shuffling backward.

"I'm relaxing in my own home, if you don't mind."

"Do you think we like looking at you?"

"I don't give a damn what you think. You're hired help."

Meg had her boxed to a chair in the corner, a chair big enough to fall into.

"Okay, you get away from me now," Mrs. Fine said. "Don't you try and intimidate me. You let me by!"

She lunged at Meg with her arms extended, as if to ram her way past.

Meg grabbed her wrists and kept control. My scalp prickled. First contact.

Mrs. Fine shook furiously to loose herself. Meg caught her arm in a back lock. The panic in the woman's eyes was priceless.

She said in a squawking voice, "Let go of me, you stupid - oh, fu -!"

Meg released her with a shove toward the chair.

Wheeling around, Mrs. Fine said, "I am going to destroy you."

Then Meg calmly, inexplicably, began to unbutton her uniform. Without looking up she said, "You called us dogs. Well, you're all bark, Mrs. Fine, like a nasty little pug. Yap-yap-yap." She undid the bowstring of her catering pants and let them drop while Mrs. Fine ranted.

"When I'm done using you as a rag, Margret, you can leave that bag of junk there on the floor and crawl out of here. I won't even pay you."

Meg shed her t shirt. Wearing only a sports bra, jockeys and socks, she faced me and spread her arms in display.

"Don't show me any more," I said, "please. Save it."

Mrs. Fine attacked.

Meg handled the woman methodically. She must have trained. With another arm bend, she brought everything to a momentary halt, hitching Mrs. Fine up on her toes.

Meg reached around with her free hand and undid the remaining buttons of Mrs. Fine's blouse - one, two, three - like plucking notes, all the while whispering trash in the woman's ear. She pushed Mrs. Fine forward, releasing her arm but keeping hold of her blouse. The sleeves peeled inside-out till they stuck at the cuffs. Again a translucent bra - scrunched nipples and a fan of wrinkled skin between her tits. Meg yanked the blouse free and tossed it aside.

Half stripped, hair mussed, Mrs. Fine looked utterly deranged. Meg shoved her hard into the chair. In the padded seat, she looked as if she'd shrunk.

"Turn around," Meg said, "on your knees where you are."

"Why? What do you want?"

"Do I have to make you move?"

"I don't like you giving orders."

"Move or I'll get mean."

Mrs. Fine muttered, "You don't know what mean is," but she was already turning, rising from the seat without leaving it, switching direction to face the back of the chair.

Meg nudged her, saying, "Head down."

Mrs. Fine fell on all fours.

"All the way down." This nudge was a hand shove on the rump.

As the woman bent her head to the seat, Meg smacked her bottom, a declaration of ownership. Mrs. Fine bellowed from below, between her knees, into the padded chair.

Meg spanked her with a flurry of hand swipes. She was sniffling long before Meg made her take her slacks down, then her pantyhose, then ...

Mrs. Fine's doughy bottom was on full display, an awful sight.

Meg struck side to side, one ass cheek then the other, not nicely, but making the flesh jump, with sting, like slapping tortillas, leaving momentary handprints, red on white, white on red, smack and smack, again and again.

Mrs. Fine endured the spanking with yelps and tearful sobs. You could see the heat in the redness of her butt cheeks and the top halves of her hams. She backed off the chair, wiping her eyes and gingerly touching her inflamed skin.

"You spanked my puss," she said reproachfully.

Meg said, "We should call those three women back."

"No. Why? Don't, don't do that," said Mrs. Fine.

"What do you think, Dee?" Before I could answer, she said to Mrs. Fine, "How'd that be, for them to find you here, tied up, stripped Your ass, already on fire."

Mrs. Fine shut her eyes, shook her head no. I was watching her jowls.

"What d'you think they'd do, Dee?"

"She'd be in for three more wailings. I'll lend them my belt."

"Olè, Dee." To Mrs. Fine Meg said, "I think they'd put you on the floor and walk all over you."

Mrs. Fine said, "You're just as racist as I am."

Meg told her to get down.

"On your back, right here, on the rug."

Mrs. Fine knelt, then went onto all fours with her tits hanging low. She rolled onto her back as Meg stood over her and said, "They'd smother you with their bare feet. You'd have to suck their toes."

"Oh, god, no," said Mrs. Fine. She was jilling, pressing in circles around her clit.

"Smother you, pinch your nose between their ass cheeks," Meg said. "They'll make you lick their assholes."

The woman shook and moaned and panted with her eyes tightly shut. A quiet seizure.

Meg gave her a moment, then said, "You just came."

"Yes."

Meg planted her feet on either side of the woman's head and said, "Take my jockeys off and don't get up. Do it from where you are."

"Meg?" I said.

A wave of her arm said don't interrupt. Mrs. Fine reached high, stretched her fingertips, and worked the cotton jockeys all the way down Meg's legs.

Meg stepped out of them and dropped to her knees, into a schoolboy pin, with her bottom on Mrs. Fine's chest. As the woman tried to turn her head aside, Meg hitched forward and closed her thighs.

"I'm going to rub my puss all over you," she said.

Mrs. Fine looked bug eyed and panted, "O god, oh god."

Meg inched forward, raising her hips.

"Get ready to stick your tongue out."

I couldn't help myself. I loosened the ties of my pants and slid a hand inside. My vulva was already spongy and parted and slick.

"Flatten it," Meg said and Mrs. Fine flattened her extended tongue to receive Meg's fleshy puss.

Meg rode the woman's face like a cowgirl, mean in the saddle. Her actions were spellbinding, lifting herself to receive feathery light licks, settling into a full contact grind. Her face deepened twice in color as she worked up her arousal. She looked at me and growled through her teeth.

I felt a dizzy, tummy churning thrill. Meg was talking dirty, something I couldn't quite make sense of, until the whorl of sound cleared and I realized that she was talking to me.

"Don't you come, Dee," she said emphatically. "Don't you dare fucking come."

I stared at her, frozen for a sec. "You're joking, right?"

"Fuck, no," she said.

"Why not? She did."

"You haven't earned it."

"Earned it? The fuck I have to earn it! I'm not like her."

"Don't do it, Dee. I'm telling you, don't."

"I'm lost here, Meg."

"You wait."

"I didn't intend to come. I'm just a little excited. What the fuck?"

Meg returned to her feral pleasure and ignored me. She swiped her puss up and down that mushy face, and I saw it, the moment when she caught the groove to orgasm. Hypertensed, temple veins distended - too much, too much. She finally broke off with a howl of frustration, peaking short, the groove erased.

She stood up wobbly, then started toward me.

"Want a turn?"

"I don't want to go near that pathetic slug," I said.

"I don't mean with the pathetic slug," she said, "I mean with me."

I said no. "You're out of bounds, Meg, way out of bounds."

She took hold of my tunic. Her face close, flushed and sweating, her breath hot - I was heading for full panic. She pushed and pulled, testing my balance.

"The boundaries have changed," she said.

I was fit and strong - she was that and skillful too. I would have to fight her and didn't

know how far I could take it.

"No," I said, "not with her. Not here, like this."

"She doesn't like me," Mrs. Fine said.

"She hates your guts," Meg said. "She abhors you."

Mrs. Fine sobbed, "I wish she didn't."

Meg pulled me close. I was assailed by her heat, by the faint sharpness of her sweat and the aroma of her excitement. Her mouth was so close I tasted it.

She took hold of my hair with one hand and cupped me between the legs with the other.

"Uh!"

She brushed her lips over my cheek, kneading my puss with all four fingers through the fabric and laughing to herself when my hips began to rock with her rhythm.

"Open your pants more," she said. "Hold the waist open."

"Meg ..."

"Do it, Dee."

I opened the waist as wide as it would go. She slipped her hand into my jockeys.

"That woman -" I said.

"Watching me top her got you creaming," Meg said. Her middle finger found my slit.

"Aah!" My heels lifted involuntarily.

She teased at the entryway with give and take, then slipped through the puckered gate, as slick as wet clay.

"Want me to finger fuck you, Dee?"

The pants fell to my ankles.

She pushed deep. My knees shook.

"Guh!"

In to the knuckle, she curled her fingertip and found the rippled wafer near the top of the bone. "G is for good," she said, then put a little vibrato on it.

"Oh - fuck!"

I was instantly on the edge of climax. Meg withdrew her finger with a flourish and popped it in her mouth. Her lips formed a ring around it to strip the juices off like honey.

I kicked the pants free. With a little spin, Meg maneuvered around me and plopped on the couch. As I turned, she opened her legs and edged her bottom off the edge of the cushion, fingertips parting her matted puss to display her petals and pearl.

I fell to my knees between her thighs. She tilted to meet me. The scent spun my senses.

"I'm not sure I know how," I said. The words might have been slurred. I felt woozy.

She slid a hand around the back of my head to pull me close.

"Now just find it lightly, there, with your tongue."

So I touched so very lightly. I flicked. I tapped, I teased. And as I began to gain confidence, I slid my tongue into her with a sensation like mollusk on mollusk. She tasted tangy, sour, salty, sweet - a spray of shifting flavors. She cried out and threw her head back and shook through the length of her legs. I pressed my tongue hard and then she bucked and came in spasms, fending me away finally and turning on her side as convulsions curled her into herself. For an orgasm, it looked painful.

I stood up, wiping my mouth. Mrs. Fine was keening at a whisper. Meg uncurled slowly.

She sat up and held her swooning head. As her equilibrium returned, she lifted her bottom to examine a darkened patch of fabric, then looked up sheepishly.

"I wet your couch."

I turned to the troll. She wore that same look as when her husband left with the others, laced with a human longing. Her hands were clasped as if in prayer.

"What is it?" Meg said.

Tears ran down the woman's cheeks as she said, "You are so, so blessed."

"What do you mean?" Meg said.

"You have found each other," said Mrs. Fine.

Meg went to her, brushing by me. She knelt beside Mrs. Fine and cradled the woman in her arms until her sobbing stopped. I got dressed.

Meg smoothed Mrs. Fine's face and stroked her thin hair.

"Dee, would you please bring us a warm washcloth and heat up some towels in the dryer? Through that door. Mrs. Fine?" Meg said.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Fine will be home soon."

"Yes."

"It's time."

Mrs. Fine stood and walked to the oak table. I delivered the towels and washcloth with a growing sense of humility. Meg took the towels and aligned them on the table top.

At one point our eyes met and she leaned close to whisper in my ear, "That was the greatest orgasm of my life."

Mrs. Fine climbed onto the oak monster and lay on her back, as if on a slab, hands at her sides. Meg tenderly wiped her face, her body, her puss and thighs and crooked feet with the warm washcloth, then patted her skin dry.

Settled comfortably, with her eyes closed, gravity smoothing her face, Mrs. Fine looked unnervingly like a corpse. Meg picked up the torn bag of moss. Deadpan she said to me, "This is where it gets weird."

"Meg," I said, "what are we doing? I can barely hold myself together."

"I love you," she said. "I've loved you since I've known you, Dee. And I think you love me."

"Right now I'm afraid of you."

"But do you love me?"

"That's why I'm afraid."

"Come on," Meg said. "Let's finish."

At Mrs. Fine's request, following her husband's instruction, we garnished her body with the blue green moss.

We worked in silence, arranging a halo around her orange hair and weaving curved trusses from her shoulders, down her squat torso to below her knees, lending her chastity.

Alternately I felt silly and sick, silly and sick.

Mrs. Fine breathed easily, as if asleep. When we had finished, only her lips moved to whisper, "Thank you."

We left, saying nothing further. Meg took an envelope with her name on it from a shelf by the door.

A numbness hit me the moment we were outside. The air had become chilly.

Meg said, "I'm exhausted. Can you drive?"

I managed to, fighting tears.

"Were you paid for that?" I said.

"No." She opened the envelope. "It's a consent form."

I could see only what the head beams showed of the road, its bumps and dips, the unrelenting stream of starkly lit and shadowed trees.

"You're sad," Meg said.

"Oh, yeah. Confused."

"About us?"

"About me especially."

"But that was genuine. We are hot, Dee."

"I lied to myself. I'm lying to myself now."

"About what? Don't you trust me?"

I didn't know how to answer.

Meg touched my leg to be comforting and said, "You were honest and brave." Then she sidled over and snuggled to me in a way that was comforting to both of us. The unexpected tenderness broke through and the tears fell, squeezed from my heart.

We approached the turn that would take us down the mountain and I stopped at the sign. Ahead lay the tunnel of oaks, eery in the headlights.

"Do you feel sorry for her?"

"Oh, Meg," I said, wiping new tears, "she isn't loved."

"Her night isn't half over, Dee, and neither is ours. She is loved. What do you think happens when he gets home?"

"I don't want to know."

"Think fairy tales, Dee."

I drove into the arbor and parked where we had parked before. We got out without hurry to the overwhelming sounds of wind and branches moving. We touched without speaking and, finally, kissed for the first time. We kissed again and then wiped each others faces of tears and then laughed that we were crying and then we held each other close for dear life and stood hugging and hugging, with blades of moonlight shifting to the ground around us.

End