Drifting

Paula laughs, her hands making her breasts roll. "Oh yes, you want them, don't you?"

Marlo imagines the members of the Arts Faculty fainting away one after the other at the sight of Paula with those big breasts in her hands. Professor Paula Wakeman is already lifting her wool skirt to show her thighs to an audience of one. Marlo bends forward to take one of the nipples in her mouth, one hand sliding between Paula's legs to find the wet evidence of Paula's excitement.

Paula sighs as she cradles Marlo's head. She strokes Marlo's hair, thrilled at the short boyish haircut.

"You're not happy," Paula says.

Marlo sucks the generous breast without replying. But it's true. She's not happy. She has no idea why she's not happy, and she has a great fear the unhappiness will last forever.

All my life, Marlo thinks. I'll be unhappy all my life.

* * *

Beth stood in a dingy room in Ma Willow's frame house. The room had a musty smell, old white curtains, one window that looked out at the back of the house and at the ground sloping down to the creek. She could just make out a barn-like place through the trees, and she knew that had to be Marlo's house. She felt the flush in her face as she remembered Marlo's eyes. I'll go now, she thought; why not go now and see her and get it over with? There was no reason to put it off, was there?

At that moment she saw a girl between the trees, a slender young girl wearing a sweater and skirt, the girl hurrying away from Marlo's house.

Beth watched the girl climbing the slope and suddenly she knew instinctively the girl had been with Marlo. The blonde girl was Marlo's lover, wasn't she? Yes, it had to be. Beth felt a sharp sense of loss as she remembered Marlo's spectacular face, the high cheekbones. You're stupid, Beth thought; the woman doesn't know you, so why should the woman care? What made her think she could have a woman like that?

The blonde girl passed close to Ma Willow's house and then abruptly vanished from view.

Beth decided to go to Marlo anyway. She did want to see whatever paintings Marlo had. She reasoned the visit was appropriate---she had already told Marlo she was interested in her work. She decided to ignore Marlo's rudeness at the mechanic's shop. Marlo was an artist and artists were always temperamental, weren't they? Beth knew a number of them in New York who were almost totally crazy. Artists needed understanding, especially the painters who were the craziest of the lot. This one had certainly rattled her because the last thing in the world she had expected was to find such an exquisite woman stuck in a place like Milson Corners.

She changed her clothes first. She put on a sweater and jeans and tennis shoes, and then she left Ma Willow's and she walked down the slope to the barn-like house where Marlo lived.

After Beth knocked on the front door, a long time passed before anything happened. Finally she heard footsteps, and then the door opened and Marlo stood there gazing at her with those dark haunted eyes.

"Yes?"

"I hope you don't mind. Since I'm staying over there at Ma Willow's house, I thought I might..."

Beth broke off; she felt foolish.

Marlo said: "Thought you might what?"

"I thought I might get to see more of your work."

Marlo said nothing for a long moment, her eyes drifting up and down as she studied Beth from head to toe.

"I like you better in heels."

Beth felt herself blushing. "Do I get to see any paintings?"

"Not now. I'm working now. Come by tomorrow at noon and we'll see."

Marlo's eyes suddenly turned vague.

Beth nodded, and a moment later the door closed.

That face, Beth thought. She felt small and defenseless, aware of the erratic beat of her heart, her mind flooded with uncertainty and fascination. And something else too. A strange sense of foreboding.

* * *

Beth eight years ago at Smith College. She's twenty years old, blonde, bronzed by the sun, now lying naked on a bed in her dorm room while she watches her roommate Allie dry her hair after a shower. Allie is athletic, quick-tempered, with muscled arms and thighs and close-cropped dark hair. She holds a large white towel wrapped around her body. Thirty minutes ago they made love on Beth's bed, sweating as they grasped at each other, turning over and over on the bed, Beth groaning as Allie's knowing fingers stroked orgasm after orgasm out of her writhing body.

Allie now puts the hair dryer down, the noise of the machine suddenly absent, and she turns and looks at Beth. After a long moment, Allie says: "You're too uncertain."

Beth rolls over on her back and covers her eyes with her forearm. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes you act like you're not into it, like you're not sure about being gay. Or maybe you don't like me enough."

"You know that's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"Allie, I've told you so many times I'm in love with you."

"Then what is it?"

"If you want to know, the fact is I don't like the idea of you seeing anyone else."

Allie hisses through her teeth. "Christ, we talked about that at the beginning. Didn't we talk about that?"

"Yes, I know what I said. But now I don't think I can cope with it."

"Oh shit."

Turning her head, Beth looks at her. "I don't know what to do."

"You know I'm not into exclusive relationships."

Beth stares at the ceiling. "I want to belong to someone."

Allie walks to Beth's bed and she sits down on the edge of the mattress and leans forward to kiss Beth's forehead. "You belong to me. We're together, aren't we?" She runs her fingers over Beth's breasts and then slides her hand between Beth's thighs to cup Beth's cunt. "Open up to Allie, sweets. Don't you want to?"

Beth groans and spreads her legs apart. "Yes."

* * *

The paintings were spectacular.

Shortly after lunch the next day, Beth stood in Marlo's studio before an array of canvases that took her breath away.

Beth said: "I'm overwhelmed."

She wore a white tank top, a denim skirt, and white sandals with high heels. The shoes had been carried down the slope in her hands. She'd been dubious about the heels, had told herself she was silly, but after she'd arrived she'd seen the interest in Marlo's eyes and she wasn't sorry.

Marlo leaned against the wall near a French window that led to a sundeck, her thumbs hooked inside her belt, her eyes on Beth.

Marlo said: "What do you like?"

"I like everything. All these paintings are marvelous. Why haven't you brought them to New York?"

Marlo shrugged. "I don't like New York. It's too phony."

They looked at each other, and Beth said: "Do you have any more?"

"A few. Some portraits."

"May I see them?"

"Over here."

Marlo gestured toward the other end of the large room. They walked beside each other, Beth feeling small next to Marlo's height, even in her heels. And then suddenly, before they reached the stack of canvases facing a wall, Beth stumbled on a stretcher bar, cried out as she started falling, and then gasped with relief as Marlo's strong hands gripped her waist and prevented her collapse.

Still holding her, Marlo grumbled: "My fault. The floor's a mess."

Acutely aware she was in Marlo's arms, Beth trembled. "I'm clumsy."

"You're wearing heels."

And wearing them, of course, because of that remark Marlo had made the day before. Beth wondered if Marlo understood. She felt helpless with this woman, completely thunderstruck.

Their eyes locked, Marlo gazing down at her, still gripping Beth's waist with her hands, and then finally Marlo bent her head and Beth shuddered as Marlo kissed her.

Beth felt her head spin. Her senses were filled with the taste of Marlo's mouth, the feel of Marlo's body pressing against hers, the grip of Marlo's hands on her waist. Her arms instinctively shifted around Marlo's shoulders, her hands sliding over Marlo's back.

Marlo's lips at last left Beth's and moved to the side of Beth's neck. Beth groaned as she felt the warm lips and then Marlo's hands tugging at her tank top, pulling the white top down far enough to expose her breasts.

Her hands again holding Beth's waist, Marlo leaned back and gazed down.

"Nice."

Beth's nipples were stiff, pointed with her excitement.

Beth struggled. "Please, I don't---"

"No?"

Hardly touching her, Marlo ran her fingertips over the contours of Beth's breasts as Beth shut her eyes and trembled. Beth felt the fingers close on her nipples, pinching, exploring, tugging at her flesh.

Marlo spoke in a low voice: "Pose for me. I'd like to paint you."

Beth opened her eyes. "Now?"

"Yes, now."

Beth tried to hide her disappointment. Paint her now?

Marlo pulled at her hand to lead her to the part of the studio she used for painting.

As reluctant as Beth was to have this sudden intimacy with a woman she hardly knew, she also yearned for Marlo to take her to bed. She was captivated by Marlo; she wanted her desperately. But Marlo seemed to have nothing more on her mind than her work. Beth suddenly felt foolish. But when she tried to restore her appearance and cover her breasts with her tank top, Marlo pulled her hands away.

"No, stay like that. That's how I want to paint you. Do you mind?"

Beth surrendered. It was all so sudden, so bizarre, nothing seemed impossible. "No, I don't mind."

"Maybe you ought to take the top off altogether. Here, I'll help you."

Beth was amazed at herself, startled at how rapidly things had changed between them. One kiss, and now here she was stripped to the waist like a harem girl. I'm blushing, she thought. She would rather be on a bed making love, but the heat in Marlo's dark eyes as Marlo studied her breasts was enough. She had good breasts; everyone always told her she had good breasts, full and round, and the nipples like thick studs when erected. Like now.

As Marlo posed her, making her seat herself on a high stool with one foot on the floor and the other on a rung, Beth said:

"I feel awkward."

"You don't look awkward, you look beautiful. Pull your shoulders back a bit. Yes, like that. That's good. Lovely tits."

Beth blushed. "Marlo, please..."

"Yes?"

"Don't paint me now."

"Why not?"

"I---oh God."

"Tell me."

"I want you to make love to me."

Marlo chuckled softly, not looking at Beth as she continued to swirl a brush in a jar. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You don't know anything about me. I may be too much for you."

Marlo looked at her now, and Beth tried to read her face. "In what way?"

The tall woman shrugged. "Sometimes I demand a lot. Things you maybe hardly know about."

Beth felt her nipples tingling. "I'm not a child."

Marlo smirked. "No, you're not, are you? All right, get the rest of your clothes off. Everything but the shoes."

Yes of course, everything but the shoes. It was more an order than a request. If she thought she'd get romance, she was mistaken. Did she want romance? Whatever it was that was happening, it thrilled her completely. She saw the dark eyes burning at her again, and she trembled as she rose from the stool to unbuckle her belt and step out of her denim skirt. Under the skirt she wore no stockings, only white nylon panties, and with her face flushed she quickly peeled the panties away and put them on top of the skirt on the stool.

When she looked at Marlo again, Marlo made a gesture with her hand. "Turn."

As gracefully as she knew how, Beth did a turn to show her body from all sides. Did her belly slope too much? And her buttocks? Was her ass firm enough?

"I feel awkward again."

"You don't need to. You're lovely."

"Oh Marlo, I---"

"Don't talk."

"Then what?"

"Come here."

Beth went to her, carefully crossing the floor on her high heels to where Marlo leaned against another high wooden stool. When Beth reached Marlo, the dark-eyed woman took hold of Beth's breasts and gently pulled them out from Beth's chest.

Beth flushed and moaned, her eyes on Marlo's hands, her legs trembling as she realized how much she wanted it, how much she wanted to be completely dominated by this startling woman. Her cunt throbbed. In Milson Corners. Of all places in the world, this had to happen in Milson Corners.

"What do you want?" Marlo said softly.

"I want you to make love to me."

"No, I won't do that."

Beth's heart sank. She stared at Marlo. "Why not?"

"I'll fuck you, but I won't make love to you. We don't know each well enough for love."

Beth quivered. "Please..."

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want it?"

"Yes."

Holding Beth's right breast in her left hand, Marlo brought her right hand up to Beth's face and pushed her fingers at Beth's mouth.

"Take my fingers."

Beth shuddered. Was it really happening? She felt so helpless with this woman, her mind whirling with her need to have Marlo ravish her. Yes! she thought. She opened her mouth to have it stuffed with Marlo's fingers. Marlo bunched three fingers together and slowly slid them in and out of Beth's open mouth.

"Get them wet," Marlo said, her voice tender now, almost a whisper.

Beth sucked the long fingers, moving her head back and forth, wetting the fingers with her saliva. As Beth did this, Marlo dropped her left hand from Beth's breast and slid it around Beth's hip to find and squeeze one of her buttocks. Beth closed her eyes as she felt Marlo's hand slide into the crack of her ass, the fingers of the hand now finding her cunt from the rear, not penetrating, only exploring, the hand feeling huge as it pressed her cheeks apart.

Marlo abruptly pulled her wet fingers out of Beth's mouth and said: "Turn around."

Beth stared at her, feeling the hot flush in her face. She could not refuse. She was too excited, too overcome with an intense desire to submit. She turned and stood with her back to Marlo, yielding and shifting her legs apart as she felt Marlo's hand slide between her thighs.

She groaned as she hand possessed her. She wanted more, but she was afraid to ask.

Marlo gazed at the woman she had before her. She felt a great passion as she gazed down at Beth's proffered ass. Yesterday she'd had Lucy almost exactly the same way. But this was different. Beth was lush, mature, her femininity fully developed. Marlo found the wet vagina with her thumb and entered it without delay, her middle finger locating Beth's stiff clit and stroking it. Then she pulled her thumb out and replaced it with the three fingers Beth had sucked earlier.

Beth moaned as she felt Marlo's fingers push inside her cunt, the strong digits filling her, stretching her passage. Anonymous sex, she thought. Nothing but a sharp lust that consumed her. Is this what you want? All she was certain of was an intense desire to please Marlo. That and the need to have that hand do more.

Marlo's hand moved, her fingers expertly fucking the open cunt.

Beth's orgasm started building immediately. She gasped and made a plaintive sound as she felt Marlo's thumb penetrate her anus as she started coming.

"Please, no! I don't want that!"

Marlo kept her thumb in place. "If you're not happy, you can put your clothes on and leave. Is that what you want?"

Beth groaned. "No."

"Then stop complaining". Marlo pulled Beth backward until she had Beth leaning against her, fingers in Beth's cunt and her thumb in Beth's ass. "Go on, baby, let go."

Beth cried out as her cunt exploded. Marlo held her as the orgasm racked her body from head to toe, held her and kissed her neck as she gently brought Beth down with her stroking fingers, her fingers sliding, sliding until Beth finished.

At the end Beth rebelled, twisting away and almost stumbling on her high heels. "I hated that."

"No, you didn't, you loved it."

"I hated it!"

Marlo glared at her. "Put your clothes on and get out."

Beth was stunned. "I---"

"Go on, bitch, get out."

The tall woman walked away. Beth shuddered as she watched her, her skin suddenly cold. Her legs trembling, she hurried to gather her clothes.

PART TWO

For three years now, Rita had been living with a woman named Jul in Rita's West Village townhouse. Jul taught History and French in an Upper West Side high school. She'd been born in France, and even after twenty years in New York she still had a slight French accent. She was dark-haired like Rita, with a quiet strength obvious to anyone who looked at her, an angular intelligent face and sharp hazel eyes. At work Jul dressed in suits and skirts and black low-heeled pumps. Away from the high school, Jul favored boots and jeans and leather vests over blue shirts. Rita liked to dress up when they went out, and when she wore high heels she was considerably taller than Jul because Jul was shorter than Rita and Jul's cowboy boots had only clunky low heels. Rita was a full-fleshed woman, with large breasts and wide hips and plump calves. She adored Jul because Jul was the first woman with whom she felt totally comfortable. All the others had made trouble because it was Rita's money that paid for the townhouse and Rita's money that paid for the other luxuries. Jul didn't seem to care one way or the other where the money came from. All she seemed to care about was Rita, making her happy, looking after her, and making her come with thunderous orgasms that shook the bed and rattled the porcelain figurines on the mantel behind the headboard.

"No one makes you come like I do," Jul said.

"No one," Rita agreed.

They were in bed, Jul half-lying on top of Rita, a Sunday morning political talk show on the TV screen with the sound switched off, the faces on the screen, one after the other, yammering silently as Jul continued to gently move her fingers in Rita's cunt.

Jul slowly withdrew her fingers. "Would you like some coffee?"

"I'd love it."

When Jul returned from the kitchen with their coffee, Rita said: "Something's bothering Beth."

"Something's always bothering Beth."

"No, this is serious. I think she's in love with someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Ever since she returned from upstate she's been walking around in a daze."

Jul snorted and said nothing. She wanted to tell Rita that Beth was always in a daze, but she knew Rita liked Beth and she said nothing. Rita and Beth, in fact, had once been lovers, but only for a short time. Jul was certain she had nothing to worry about from that quarter. Not from Beth. Rita needed someone like Jul, not someone like Beth. Jul felt possessive about Rita even though she herself was not faithful. Jul liked variety in her sex life, and whenever the opportunity offered itself and she could do it secretly, she would see other women. Her attitude was that as long as Rita knew nothing about it, what was the harm?

Unwilling to talk any more about Beth, Jul slid down on the bed and rested her face on Rita's belly. She started teasing Rita's pussy as Rita sipped her coffee.

"You're going to wear me out," Rita said with affection.

"I haven't yet."

"No, you haven't."

As if to affirm it, Rita opened her legs in obvious invitation. Jul snickered with approval against Rita's cunt, but instead of diving in and sucking her the way she knew Rita wanted her to, Jul merely toyed with Rita's lush garden. She teased the long lips, carefully tugging them out and arranging them like a pair of red wings on either side. She tickled the shaft of Rita's prominent clitoris and watched the jerking of the pink pearl.

"Don't be mean," Rita said, sighing as she put the coffee cup away and opened her legs further. She pushed firmly at Jul's head, and then she groaned as she felt Jul's tongue finally start licking her. As Jul slid down on the bed and arranged herself between Rita's legs, Rita raised her knees and then spread them as wide as possible, each knee almost touching the mattress, her wide apart folded legs like a huge open oyster.

And at the center of the oyster was Rita's pearl.