Meet Me in St. Louis Ch. 03

Lady Cynthia was stunned. Her aunt, Lady Emily, as she remembered her from her childhood, had been killed in a railway disaster in St Louis. Her will had left all her property to Cynthia, on condition that she must travel to America to see her inheritance. And now, sitting in the sedate atmosphere of the lawyer's office in New York, she learned she had inherited a bordello - for women!

Lady Cynthia's eyes caught those of her companion, Petra. On their way back to the hotel for lunch, Cynthia and Petra sat in silence. It was difficult to know what to say, and whatever that was, it was not for a cab driver to hear.

Over lunch, the ice was broken.

"Cynthia, darling, what are you going to do?"

"What are WE going to do darling? I need to read some of this material from Mr Franklin. I still have no idea why Aunt Emily left this to me."

"Do you remember her at all?"

"She left when I was about twelve. She flitted in and out of my life. She and papa never got on, and when she eloped with an American diplomat, he cut off contact. I would get a Christmas card from her, but that was all. And now this."

Back in their room, Cynthia settled down and started to read.

"Dear Cynthia,

There is so much I want to say. So much that needs saying. You will only be reading this if I have died, and it will be too late. I wish... but then there is so much I wish, and I will have run out of time. Another will guide you further if she thinks it is time. I wish most of all that things had been different.

I daresay that when old Franklin told you, he made a noise like a creaky wheel. He does not approve. His approval does not matter - and he does not refuse the business.

But before I tell you more, open the packet that comes with this, it contains the story of my ward, Artemis. She knows everything there is to know, and I hope you can become firm friends.

With love,

Emily xxx"

With a sigh, Cynthia opened what looked like a substantial package. She began to read.

[The full back-story of Charlotte/Diana/Artemis can be found in the four chapters of SerradaC's "Diana in St Louis" which is a companion piece to this story]

The more she read, the more she wanted to read. When Petra came back from shopping, she asked Cynthia what she had learned.

"Well, my love, read it yourself, but make sure you are not sitting on a sofa, and if I were you, I'd have a towel to hand."

"That hot?"

"It's a slow burn, but let me summarise."

Aunt Emily's husband died not long after they came to St Louis. He had a house and a saloon there, which Emily inherited. The latter did not make money, so Emily decided to find another use for it. It seems that I am not alone in my family in having a taste for women, Aunt Emily also enjoyed other women. She provided a place where women could meet each other, as sort of women's club, but with a difference - they could stay and play."

"Play?"

"It seems, my darling, that we have a lot to learn. Would you believe that some women like to submit to others; that they like being spanked and caned; that they like being told what to do?"

Petra grinned.

"You don't say?"

"Oh, but I do darling," Cynthia grinned back.

"And this you have inherited?"

"This?" Cynthia's grin widened.

"The taste for submission and the property, of course!"

Cynthia blushed.

"According to the packet I have skim read, my aunt had a ward called Artemis whom she adopted as a daughter. She helped run the agency, and she has other material for me."

Cynthia felt that the waters here were deeper than she realised. Something was scratching away at the back of her mind, but she could not reach it, and he more she cudgelled her brains, the further away whatever it was got.

Petra looked at Cynthia.

"So, you have inherited a sapphic brothel?"

"I think they would call it an escort agency, darling."

Petra looked and smiled.

"So we need to meet this Artemis in St Louis and find out more. What is in your mind, Cyn?"

"Sin! For sure!" Cynthia laughed. "What do you think?"

"Oh you really don't want to know what I thought," Petra said in a manner which she knew would have Cynthia wanting to know.

"What if I do?"

"You'll get on your knees and crawl to me and beg to lick my pussy."

Cynthia took a deep breath.

This had been on her mind all day. Reading the account from Emily had pressed some trigger that, previously had been partially active, but was now fully depressed; the state of her panties told all. Until now this had been a game, but Emily's account had painted a picture of a different, wider, and kinkier world. Was this something she wanted? Lady Cynthia knew she should take a moment, or more than that, but before she could act on that, she found herself on her knees, with Petra's skirt up around her waist, her legs open, her drawers pulled aside to reveal her swollen lips.

As Cynthia began to lick, she felt a sudden pain. Petra smacked her cheek and pulled her hair.

"What did I say, GIRL?"

Cynthia's feelings became a maelstrom of conflicting desires, where intellect and feeling, thought and desire met in conflict. She was Lady Cynthia, an aristocrat from a privileged background, and finally, women were beginning to be heard and have influence. In a few years she would even be able to vote and stand as a Member of Parliament (should she lose her senses). That was what her intellect said. And yet, desire, well, that was something else.

"Please, Miss, can I Lick your pussy?"

"Is that the best you can do - girl?"

"Pretty please, Miss, can I please, please, please lick your pussy?"

Petra grinned.

"There, that was not too hard, was it, your ladyship? Of course you can."

So saying, Petra pulled Cyn in so that her face was rubbing again her pussy. Lady Cynthia's tongue swirled up, along the crease, invading her lips and making Petra squirm as she slowly rolled her hips.

Sliding her tongue upwards to flick Petra's clit, Cyn slowly opened her puffy lips, her fingers pressing in, opening her as they penetrated deep into her wetness, making her groan huskily as she moved her hips. Cyn twisted and pressed in, and out, building up a rhythm as her lips massaged Petra's clit.

Then Cyn shifted her focus, removing her fingers and using her mouth to suck on Petra's wetness, creating a vacuum as she pulled on her lips and clit. As Petra shifted to expose more of herself, Cyn used her wet fingers to tease and rim her tight asshole, which made her gasp loudly.

"Oh Cynnnn, oh, oh, so, so bad!"

There was a primal, guttural moan as Cyn's finger pushed into Petra's tight hole, which turned into a low, prolonged moan as her tongue darted into her wetness. With both holes filled, Petra felt herself slipping away. Her hands gripped Cynthia's hair as she pulled her in more tightly, and her legs parted even wider. Suddenly she just wanted to be filled.

Sensing that, Cynthia made her hand into a little fist, and, carefully but firmly, opened her up so that her fist was stretching Petra's pussy. Whatever vestiges of self-control Petra had maintained, vanished under the invasion, and losing it entirely, she felt herself squirting - gripping her lover's wrist as she came long and hard.

For Cynthia, the moment of submission had passed. It was their game, and now she sensed what was needed, as she kept her fist inside Petra, but, sliding her legs over her shoulders, used her tongue to lap up her lover's nectar where it had begun to pool by her asshole. That, in turn, sent Petra into another orgasmic spiral, adding to the wet mess she had already created.

"Cyn, oh, oh Cyn, I, I, I...!"

And her words were lost as another orgasm coursed through her. Of a sudden, the roles had been reversed. Petra's climaxes showed that she, too, enjoyed submitting.

Slowly pulling her fist from Petra, she looked up.

"You're as bad as me!"

The two women giggled. How far they had come, Cynthia reflected. America claimed to be the "land of the free," and its atmosphere clearly had as invigorating an effect on the two of them as it had on her Aunt Emily.

As they lay there, just luxuriating in the cuddles that followed their lovemaking, Cynthia's mind turned things over.

What on earth would her father, the earl of Bayswater, say if he knew that his younger sister had been making money from running a lesbian brothel? Well, she thought, knowing his attitude to money, and women, he'd probably have taken the cash and had someone discreetly turn it into a brothel of the more usual sort.

Of course, she reflected, as Petra cuddled into her small breasts, she could just do what she had intended, or rather, what Papa had intended, which was fulfil the conditions set down and see the property, and then sell it. Aunt Emily's two thousand pounds a year would be supplemented, and it would enable her to love comfortably. She could forget the ghastliness of the "season," and the meat market, and settle down to the life of an independent lady.

Somehow, that seemed less attractive than it had when they had set out. After her encounters with Virginia Woolf, Cyn knew she liked women, and the burgeoning relationship with Petra had confirmed that. Back home they would have to live a life of subterfuge, and Papa would insist she married. With an independent income, Cyn's prospects were much better. But she did not want a man.

Then there was Emily's ward, Artemis. From the account she had read, Arti (as she was already thinking of her) must have expected to have inherited the business. She was clearly a dominating force (a thought that made Cyn tingle again), and she might not take kindly to Cynthia's turning up.

Then there were the women who worked there. That thought made Cyn tingle some more. Was it really possible here to live a life where having other women in this was possible? She smiled to herself - "the land of opportunities" indeed!

"Well, Pet, I think we shall need to clean up and get ready for dinner. Mr Burke said he would meet us at seven in the lobby."

One of the blessings of the post-war period, as far as Cynthia was concerned, was the fussy style of over-dressing common before it, was giving way to a more relaxed style that rather suited her. Not having much in the way of breasts, she found the so-called "flapper" dresses to her taste. So, instead of taking forever to dress, she and Pet took advantage of the new freedom that had come their way.

"Cyn, darling," Pet commented, looking closely at her, "I think you need a camisole of something, your nipples are showing."

Cyn giggled.

"And you don't like that?"

"I do, but unless you want Mr Burke lusting after you as he lusts after me, I'd suggest you do something about it."

"Yes, Miss!" Cyn giggled, making a jest of their play, which made Petra smile.

"You know what we spoke about, Petra, you and Mr Burke?"

"Yes, darling."

"I would be happy to take the adjoining room here and you and he could, if you so wished, have this one."

Cyn knew that while Petra enjoyed women, she also liked men, and in a way Cynthia herself did not. She was not selfish. Petra was a wonderful lover, but if, as she was sure was the case, she wanted children, then she'd need the usual accompaniment - a man.

"Oh darling, are you sure? I'd feel I was cheating on you."

"My love, if it was another woman, you might be, but, at least with me, men don't count."

"Well, I can't pretend I don't like the idea. But will he want me?"

Cynthia giggled. "Well, now my nipples are not on show, your road to paradise is open."

Petra smudged their lipstick with a kiss.

"You're the best, Cyn."

"Try not to get with child, if you can."

"I shall - for now!" Petra grinned.

Dinner was enjoyable. Mr Burke, relaxed and off duty, turned out to be a convivial companion, and had organised a Sunday tour of the city for them. He had also made arrangements for them go to St Louis on the Tuesday.

"Someone from our office there will meet you. We have arranged a hotel on Laclede's Landing near your properties. Miss Artemis has been contacted and will be happy to show you around at your convenience. Is there anything more I can do for you?"

"Mr Burke," Cynthia replied, "you have been the perfect help, and I shall tell Mr Franklin that. Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to get an early night. But don't let that end your evening."

Burke looked at her, then at Petra, not quite believing his ears.

"Thanks Cyn," Pet said, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you, Lady Cynthia," Burke said, not quite sure what was going on, but liking the idea of time alone with the delicious Petra.

Back in the room, Cynthia made sure the adjoining door was locked. She was happy for Petra to explore, but wanted to make sure that if Burke got any ideas, she was securely locked away from them.

She read a little more of the material Artemis had provided. There was clearly a great big wide world full of sapphic magic about which she knew nothing, but she could hardly disguise from herself the effect it was having on her. The idea of women on leashes with collars! Which would she like to be, the collared one or the one doing the collaring? How would it be for her, a privileged aristocrat to be collared and used by some common slut? The fact that her fingers had strayed between her legs gave a sort of answer. Then she stopped.

One thing was becoming clear to her, and that was the danger of getting sucked into something she did not fully understand. How did a house for woman and run by women survive in an environment where men ran such activities?

Moreover, there was a sort of warning to her, she thought, in the fate of Margaret, Artemis's mother-in-law, who had ended up as a "pig," being used by Aunt Emily and Artemis. Like all addictions, and Cynthia recognised the potential for her sapphic desires to become one, there was the danger of losing control.

Cynthia stopped masturbating. She was in control of her urges, and would stay so. The moment had passed - she had been tested and withstood.

The morning dawned to sound of the birds in Central Park. The hum of traffic which had marked the previous days was now stilled. Washing and dressing, Cynthia took herself down for breakfast, wondering how Petra and Burke had found the night; had he even gone back with her? She assumed that as Petra had not tried the adjoining door, the answer was yes.

Breakfasted, Cynthia began to be concerned by the non-appearance of Petra, so she went back to the room. No sooner had she put the door to than there was a knock on the adjoining door. She unlocked it. Petra looked different - but happy. She was just wearing a robe, and on the bed was Burke, who was also wearing a robe.

"Tell Lady Cynthia what you told me," she said to him.

Burke looked embarrassed, whether that was because he was in the room with two women, or because of what he had told Petra, Cynthia could hardly tell, but she sat and looked at him.

"Franklin wanted me to seduce you, Lady Cynthia. He is playing a double game. One of our clients in St Louis wants to take over Lady Emily's places and use them. He has already tried to do it once using a crooked cop, but the cop appears to have vanished. Franklin was hoping that if I could get close to you, I could influence you to sell the places at a price that would allow him to make a profit and please our other client."

Cynthia felt a chill go down her spine.

"Why are you telling us this?"

"Heck, I've fallen for Petra, and there's no way I could let you ladies be swindled by Franklin."

Cynthia smiled at him, and Petra.

"I see, so instead of you seducing me to further his nefarious purposes, Petra has seduced you to help thwart them? Poetic justice indeed."

"What do you want to do, Cyn?" Petra asked.

"Burke, tell Franklin that Petra has fallen for you and would like you to come to St Louis to help us make a decision, but add that Petra told you that I was anxious to sell. That will pull the wool over his eyes for a bit - and after all, I may yet decide to sell."

"I shall, Lady Cynthia."

He looked at her, then at Petra.

"Ah," said Cynthia, "I shall make myself scare. The tour starts after luncheon I believe - so you have a couple of hours to pass before then. I am sure that you can find something to do."

With that, she left the lovers to it.

As they tended to, this plot had thickened.