The Stronger Girl 05

'She held it so possessively,' Annie remembered.

They had taken a cab to an early supper. Annie in the middle, between Michele and her mother, Michele's father sitting up front with the Driver. The restaurant looked like a very fancy brasserie; lots of tile and glass, mirrors and bottles; white linen, and polished brass everywhere. Her parents ordered cocktails and were pleased when Annie chose a Sancerre and the waiter began to speak with her in French.

She blushed at the attention and told them that her accent was good, but that her French was weak; she had explained that father had been French.

"Did he pass recently?" Michele's mother asked when the waiter was gone, looking pained.

"No ma'am," Annie assured her, "I was very young. I remember him, but just little things." She thought of the smell of his neck, the curl of his hair, of holding his finger.

"What did he do?" her father asked. Annie could feel Michele's eyes on her; they had never discussed Annie's father.

"He was a journalist," Annie told him, and knowing the questions that would follow, she continued. "We were living in Asia when he died; Bali. It was a traffic accident."

"And your mother, what does she do?" He asked.

"My mother is a psychiatrist sir," Annie told him. "She works with people with addiction issues."

"Oh, my," Michele's mother interjected, perhaps not liking the idea of addiction as polite conversation. "But she's not French? Where are her people from?"

"No ma'am, her family is all in Maine," Annie told her

"Is that where you grew up?" She asked.

"No," she told her. "I grew up all over, but mostly the Pacific Northwest. Seattle and Portland - Oregon - mostly. That's where she lives now, in Portland."

She could see Michele watching her while this grilling took place, and was happy when The Stronger Girl asked her father about work. Her mother looked peeved for a moment, but then, perhaps understanding what Michele had done, had embraced the change of subject.

Perhaps because of the French waiter making a fuss over her, Annie found herself thinking of the lingerie saleswoman who had made such a fuss over Nancy. As they had passed the store, Nancy had told Annie how much she liked it, what nice things they had. Annie had wanted to buy Nancy a gift for helping her with the coat and asked if they could go in and look.

The store had been empty and the saleswoman had honed in on the two of them immediately. She had been bright and pretty, and so happy to help that it hadn't felt at all pushy. At first, Annie had worried that the woman had taken them for shoplifters because she and Nancy were so young. But she clearly was anxious to help - even when Nancy admitted they were just looking. Annie decided that like the waiter with Annie, the saleslady, who was Asian - Japanese Annie thought - had wanted to dote on Nancy simply because she was Korean.

Whatever the reason, Annie had told her she wanted to buy Nancy a pretty set as a thank you gift for helping her shop for her coat. Nancy had started to protest, but the saleswoman had taken Annie's side, immediately sizing Nancy up. The three of them had picked out a half dozen sets and the saleswoman had asked Nancy if she wanted help fitting, saying she could lock up for twenty minutes, that it was no trouble.

Nancy had looked at Annie, and Annie asked "May I watch?"

Nancy, who had understood Annie's double entendre, had blushed and nodded. The saleswoman, who had not understood, had happily locked up and led them to a large changing room.

After the saleswoman had shut the door behind them and they had put down their things, Annie had surprised her by stepping between Nancy and the changing mirrors and taking hold of the bottom of Nancy's shirt, lifting it up over her head. With a gentle push, Annie had directed Nancy to turn around, to face the saleswoman, as Annie unclasped and removed her bra. She had then once again gently nudged Nancy, turning her to face back around so she could take off her pants.

When Annie knelt in front of Nancy and, standing on her knees, and began to unbutton the front of Nancy's jeans, the saleswoman started to utter something.

"I'm not-" but stopped herself, and continued to watch as Annie stripped the other girl.

Annie carefully worked Nancy's feet free of the jeans, guiding them as she did so the other girl was facing away from her, and back toward the saleswoman again. She then rose up onto her knees and taking hold of Nancy's waistband on either side of her hips stripped her bare in front of the woman.

Whispering "Baby Miss" into the small of Nancy's back, Annie followed the panties down to the floor and kneeling low removed them. She watched as Nancy had thrown out her hips and put her hands on her waist, waiting to be served by the woman.

Annie felt Michele's eyes on her, realized she had been looking at her plate but wasn't sure how long she had been lost in thought - Michele's father was still talking about work - so it probably hadn't been too long.

"Will Coca-Cola start using cane sugar again?" Annie asked him in a pause. He gave her an assessing look.

"Why do you ask Annie?"

"Because," She explained, a bit uncomfortable to be back under his heavy regard, "it tastes much better in France."

He had seemed to like that answer. And told her they were working on it, but that it was complicated.

"Because of Florida?" She asked. Again he seemed to reassess her, but this time with a friendly smile.

"How do you know that?"

"My uncle has a farm in Brittany," she explained without explaining, "he likes to talk about agriculture and politics - a lot."

So did Michele's dad as it turned out.

Annie ate oysters with Michele and her father.

"I just can't," her mother admitted.

"I'll eat anything," Annie had replied deadpan.

Michele's father talked animatedly to Annie about Florida electoral politics and cane growers. She realized she was trying to impress them. Wanted them to respect her - told herself that it would be important to Michele.

'I'm not her girlfriend' Annie reminded herself, remembering the way Michele had used her two nights before, how she'd gotten herself off on Annie's face, held on to her pussy like it was a doorknob or bedpost.

"Or something she owned,' Annie felt herself blush.

The waiter came with complimentary small plates for the table - cheese and honey, foie gras, escargot, and radishes with butter - again making a great fuss over Annie; which pleased Michele's parents to no end.

"My favorite part was when all the girls in tutus danced," Annie told them when asked about the ballet.

In the dark she had allowed her mind to drift, paying very little attention to the boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl-back drama unfolding on stage. Instead, she thought of watching the saleswoman fit Nancy with a bra, while Annie knelt submissively behind her.

"Can you?" the saleswoman had asked quietly, after slipping the bra over Nancy's arms. Nancy had turned so the woman could close the clasp.

Annie's face was very close to Nancy's pussy. She could see that Nancy was excited; smell the mild fragrance of her heat. As the saleswoman adjusted the straps of the bra with shaking hands, Annie could see that Nancy was watching her work in the mirror.

The woman reached to the bench and picked up the matching panties; looked unsure.

"We don't usually..." she told the girls, her bright confident attitude had disappeared, her voice was low; sounded fraught.

Nancy waited, looking at her in the mirror. Annie hadn't been able to see the woman's face, but there was a short pause, and then the woman had knelt. Annie's mouth went wet. Her blood rushed and temperature spiked as a surge of pleasure and anticipation rushed through her. She felt unalloyed pride in Nancy seeing the woman to her knees. Annie touched Nancy's leg and foot with her hands, guiding it up. The saleswoman held the panties out, and Annie guided Nancy's foot into it and back down to the floor. While the saleswoman waited, holding the panties, her hands visibly shaking, Annie guided Nancy's other foot up, into the panties, and back down.

Now the woman raised the panties up Nancy's legs, over her ass. Standing on her knees she took a moment to smooth them over Nancy's hips, she then dropped back onto her haunches, placed her hands on her thighs.

Nancy twisted, looked at her ass in the mirror, turned all the way around, so her pussy was just in front of the other woman's face. She looked down at the saleswoman. "I like these," she told her, "but let's try on the others."

The hotel had been a short but very cold walk from the hotel. Michele gave her a pained smile seeing her discomfort but made no move to warm her. Annie had hugged herself for warmth; wished Nancy had allowed a hat.

The hotel was an enormous ornate stone pile, with a grand lobby, just below the park. Michele's parents had invited them for a nightcap in the hotel bar. Annie knew very well, while Michele could pass for 21, that Annie didn't even look 18.

'I hardly look 12,' she thought glumly.

But the waiter, who wasn't french this time, didn't even raise an eyebrow when Annie ordered a glass of the Bergerac.

She listened to the conversation while resisting the urge to look at The Stronger Girl. She had resisted the urge all night. Careful not to reach for her hand in the dark during the ballet when the canons had fired, careful not to stare at her while she spoke to her parents during dinner. Careful not to allow their legs to touch even now.

Annie had allowed herself to study the family dynamic, however - it was strained, but Annie thought it was a loving one. Her father was a handsome man, if severe. His posture was ramrod straight. In her 4 inch heels Michele was just as tall as her father, maybe an inch taller. Which still made him a very tall man, but the heels gave Michele the advantage. Annie realized as she had watched them walking in the cold, side-by-side, that wearing the heels was some kind of a power move on Michele's part. She wondered what it meant; what it said about the two of them.

The tightness that had appeared in Michele's face, was a permanent feature of her father's face. He wasn't a physically warm man. Annie thought of the way her uncle hugged her, held her hand, touched her face, kissed her, held her close - how he looked at her, searching for his brother in her features. But even if Michele's father didn't hug her or kiss her, or even hold her hand, he clearly enjoyed his daughter; was interested in her, seemed impressed with her, and proud of her. And while Michele clearly wanted to please him she seemed guarded with him; more formal than Annie had ever seen her before.

If anything, the mother/daughter relationship seemed even more fraught, especially when they had been discussing the school and their studies. Annie got the sense that she was missing something important; context of some kind. At one point Michele's mother said something about her "gap year", her tone communicating disapproval and disappointment.

Annie had looked to The Stronger Girl, confused, she had never heard about a gap year, but with a small shake of her head, Michele made it clear to Annie that she wanted the subject dropped.

But whatever else was happening, Michele's parents were enjoying the visit and kept the girls up late talking and drinking - although Annie was very careful to make sure she didn't drink too much, it wasn't because anyone else was taking it easy.

'However conservative they are,' Annie thought, 'they aren't teetotalers.'

As relaxed as the evening had gotten, as much fun as they were having talking to each other, as tipsy as Michele clearly was, the tightness never left her face, the lock never left her jaw.

At one point Annie excused herself to go to the washroom, and Michele got up saying she would go with her. Annie walked ahead, aware of The Stronger Girl walking behind her, aware of the people in the bar around them watching Michele as they passed. Annie thought of what the two of them must look like. The Stronger Girl, so tall and statuesque, so womanly, looking like a supermodel in her haute couture pleats and lacquered heels. Annie, so petite, boyish with her pixie-cut hair, and dressed like a schoolgirl in flats. The contrast made her blush with shame.

The bathrooms were a series of small individual rooms, Michele stepped inside one behind Annie. There were no stalls, just a toilet, and a sink. Annie looked at Michele doubtfully for a moment, but The Stronger Girl just stared back. Holding her gaze, Annie reached under her dress to pull her tights and panties down and bent until they were almost at her ankles. Holding her dress up above her waist, she sat with her knees together and legs akimbo. Her brazen coquettish attitude evaporated, however, and she blushed a deep crimson, at the first splash of what she felt must have been the noisiest pee of her entire life. She turned her face as she leaned forward to clean herself, but Michele took her by the chin, forcing her to look at her while she wiped herself dry.

Annie tried to reach for her tights, but Michele's hand on her chin stopped her, pulled her to her feet, and forced her to awkwardly step aside and switch places with her. She watched as The Stronger Girl lifted her dress high above her waist, revealing she had no panties. Michele stood there with the hem gathered in front of her breasts, showing off her powerful muscular legs, calves stretched by her high heels, wrapped in the thigh-high stockings; the bulge of her smooth bald mons, the full smooth lips of her hairless pussy. The muscles of The Stronger Girl's hips and waist looked hard, her navel was beautifully round and soft. She sat, Annie still standing in front of her with her tights and panties at her ankles, and spreading her knees wide she peed like a horse. Annie almost laughed, she was sure her eyes bugged wide with her surprise, but Michele just held her gaze. When she was done she made no move to clean herself, and instead stood, dress still held above her waist, feet spread wide, and waited.

It took Annie only a stunned moment to understand what was expected of her before she dropped to her knees at Michele's feet, panties and tights still at her ankles, and keeling on the cold damp tile, she licked The Stronger Girl clean.

It was late when the four of them rode the elevators to their rooms. While they had visited, the bar had filled up, emptied out, filled up, and emptied again. They had made plans to have a late breakfast the next day, to visit The Modern and have lunch there together before parting ways.

"I wish you didn't have to go back," Michele's mother told them.

"I know," Michele told her entirely unapologetically, "but we need to get back."

Their floor was first, they said their goodnights, and the girls got out. Annie followed Michele down the long hall, around a bend to their door. The Stronger Girl keyed it open with her card and held it for Annie. The room was dark, but the drapes were open and lights from the city made it easy to see. Still, she was careful as she moved towards the foot of the first bed, expecting that Michele would find the switch.

Just before she reached the bed Michele shoved her hard in the middle of her back, she almost screamed in surprise as she hit the bed, but landed so hard only a squeak came out. She had sprawled; her legs spread wide and hanging off the end of the mattress. She felt The Stronger Girl's hand on her back, pinning her hard in place. Felt her other hand lifting her dress, tugging it up over her waist. Annie grabbed the bedspread in her fists as she felt both of Michele's hands grab the back of her tights, pulling them until they split wide open. She held the cover tight as the side of Michele's face touched her ass, felt her tugging at her panties, realized The Stronger Girl had taken the silk in her teeth, was clamping them in her jaws, and tearing the fragile gusset in two with her hands. The Stronger Girl pushed the cheeks of her ass wide and her great wet tongue flattened over her asshole.

Annie bit at the covers, to stifle herself. Pulled at them as Michele kneeled behind her licking and pressing her with her tongue through the gaping hole in her tights and the tatters of her panties.

"I want to hear you beg." Michele's voice was loud, louder than they would ever have dared in their dorm room.

"Please," begged Annie, matching Michele's volume. "Oh please don't stop Michele."

"Don't stop what Annie?" The Stronger girl demanded, "I want to hear you say it."

Annie thought of her shock when The Stronger Girl had licked her ass the first time the weekend before. She had been so unprepared she had cried for her to stop, then begged her not to in the same breath. She had called out so loud Michele had had to scold her. She thought of how Michele had fucked her with her great tongue; of cumming as she whispered her love for The Stronger Girl into her pillow.

"Please," begged Annie again, louder this time. "Please don't stop licking my asshole."

Michele's great tongue returned to the crack of her ass, working from the hot channel of her pussy upward in powerful flat strokes. Annie twisted her hips and pushed herself against The Stronger Girl.

"Please," she cried, "oh please Michele, I want to feel your tongue in my ass, please fuck my ass with your tongue!"

She felt Michele pressing the tip of her tongue into her. "Oh no!" She exclaimed. "Oh please!" She begged as the thick muscle forced its way in. "I can't! Oh please, I can't! I want it!" She cried.

It was as much being able to speak out loud - unafraid - as it was Michele's tongue that made Annie cum. She panted on the bed, while The Stronger Girl continued to lick her slowly.

'May I please,' Annie thought. 'May I please lick your pussy.'

Michele's soft licking, her hands relaxing their hold on Annie's cheeks.

'I know you like me to eat your ass, and I love licking your asshole for you,' she imagined saying to The Stronger Girl, 'but I want you to cum in my mouth.'

Annie twisted on her side. Looked back at The Stronger Girl, who was still kneeling behind her, kissing her thigh. Annie reached out and touched her wet lips with her fingertips.

'Please Michele,' she imagined begging, 'let me make love to you. Please let me take you in my mouth.'

Michele stood. Annie curled on her side on the bed in front of her. She lifted her dress over her head; revealed that she hadn't been wearing a bra either.

Annie kicked off her shoes, lifting herself weakly and climbing off the bed to stand before The Stronger Girl. She wondered idly if Michele hadn't been wearing any underwear at all that day, or if she had taken them off at some point; couldn't imagine when she might have done it.

In the silvery light from the street, from the surrounding towers, in nothing but her thigh highs and heels, Michele could have been enameled iron. As Annie unbuttoned the front of her dress, she let herself finally stare at The Stronger Girl. Her large firm teardrop-shaped breasts stood out from her rib cage, without the slightest hint of sag, to the point that Annie realized they looked long. Her domed puffy nipples made them look even longer as if they were being stretched, lifted; reaching.

Her limbs were wonderfully straight and powerful looking, but shapely. As Annie pulled her little dress off her shoulders, she enjoyed the sight of Michele's bare arms. The economy of her every gesture. Nancy's narrow plump hands reminded Annie of porcelain figurines in The Louvre, girlish pinkies floating like little bows. But Michele's hands reminded Annie of The David's. They radiated power and force.