Nereids Ch. 05

"I love your breasts," Susan said, breaking the spell.

Beth blinked for a moment, shocked.

"Mine used to be that big," Susan added, "when I was still nursing." She casually glanced at her own breasts, as if sizing them up. "Unfortunately, they shrank."

"I think they're beautiful," Beth blurted before she knew what she was saying.

Susan smiled, gracious and surprised at the same time.

Beth wanted to wither and die. Her face blazed with heat, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath.

"Thank you," Susan said at last.

Beth looked up in shock. Susan had always been very open about her body—and her sexuality—but she'd never shown even a hint that she might feel "that way" about another woman. Beth tried not to gawk, but she couldn't help herself.

"It's all right to look at another woman," Susan said softly. Then she smiled. "I do it all the time."

"But aren't you worried about...?"

"About what?" Susan asked, almost derisively. "About what society thinks? About what people like Mary Scarlatti think? Or Phyllis Waulk?" She scoffed. "Why should I? I'm not like them."

Beth gaped.

"And neither are you," Susan said earnestly.

Beth felt an insane desire to reach out and touch Susan, to caress her soft skin, to pull her closer.

"No, I don't worry about what others think," Susan said, her voice defiant for all that it was barely above a whisper. "And neither should you."

Beth felt herself nodding.

"We're grown women, and if we want to look at another woman's body, it's okay. That doesn't make us lesbians."

Beth flinched at the word, but Susan chuckled, low and throaty and... ironic?

"It doesn't," she said. "It simply makes us honest. Women look at each other all the time. We ask ourselves, 'Is she prettier than me? Are her hips thinner? Is her tummy flatter? Does she dye her hair?' We're all hypocrites. We look at each other and pretend we're not. Well, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of keeping to myself and being a prude."

Beth swallowed hard at the intensity in Susan's voice.

"You're very beautiful," Susan said deliberately. She smiled, diffidently at first, but then with the warmth that Beth had come to know and love.

To love? she thought.

"I like looking at you," Susan continued. "I've wanted to see you since we first met."

Beth swallowed hard and nodded, but it was an automatic reaction.

"I look at you and hope I look half as sexy as you do. Your breasts are a bit bigger than mine—"

"That's only because I'm still nursing," Beth said quickly, if only to avoid thinking about Susan's first comment. "But your hips are thinner than mine."

"I wish my stomach were as flat as yours," Susan said.

Beth looked down, between her breasts. Her stomach was fuller than it had been when she was nineteen, but at least it had gone back to its natural shape.

"I have this little pooch," Susan complained.

"Oh, it's not a pooch," Beth snapped gently, quicker than she wanted to. Her eyes darted to the soft swell at Susan's navel. "It's just a little... cushion."

Susan laughed. "That's a nice way to put it."

"Besides," Beth added, "if you didn't have it, you'd be perfect." When she realized what she'd said, she blushed furiously. Even the tips of her ears were burning.

"Oh, I don't know about 'perfect,'" Susan demurred. "I don't think I look as good as you."

It was Beth's turn to demur, although she did it by hastily looking away.

"But listen to us," Susan said at last, "trying to one-up each other with compliments."

Beth smiled bashfully.

Susan met her eyes in the mirror and held them. She smiled. She started to speak, but couldn't find the words. Then she looked away, almost nervously. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Beth," she said at last. "You're... you're my best friend, but you're so much more ..."

Beth didn't know what to say, so she kept quiet, waiting for Susan to finish her thought.

"You're like the other half of me... the half I've been missing all along."

Beth felt a rush of emotion, and before she knew what was happening, she was hugging Susan.

"I... I love you," Susan whispered, her voice nearly choked with emotion.

"I love you too," Beth said without thinking. She almost recoiled when she realized what she'd said.

She caught herself in time, though. Instead of pulling back, she held on tighter, acutely aware of the feeling of Susan's bare breasts pressed against her own.

**

Jack shifted in his chair and tried to relieve the stress of his erection. He'd already had a long day, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Susan's letter. He read the words over again:

Oh, Jack, I've fallen in love. Beth is wonderful. She's amazing! I know I've told you that a thousand times, but I really mean it. I love her. And not like a sister. You know what I mean. I've seen hints that she might feel the same about me, but I didn't know for sure. And I didn't want to scare her away by telling her how I felt. But yesterday, she was upset about Keith's death, and she started worrying about David. I don't want this to turn into a steamy letter (I'll write that one a little later), but I truly didn't expect what happened next...

Jack hurriedly read through the rest of the letter, his eyes scanning over words he'd read at least a half-dozen times. When he finished he sat back and imagined the two women pressed together, their bare breasts touching, bulging to the sides, soft and smooth.

Susan had described Beth's figure a dozen times, and he could imagine how she looked now. She was a thinner version of Susan herself, with bigger breasts and wider hips. Not much wider, but just enough to give her the perfect curves.

He was a little disappointed that nothing had happened after the hug, but Susan assured him that she felt something special pass between them. He scanned that part of her letter again, his mind's eye wandering as he imaged the two women in bed together, writhing in passion.

His dick throbbed painfully and he swallowed hard. He wanted to fuck Beth more than he'd wanted anything in a long time. The only thing he could compare it to was when he'd first met Susan.

Even better, he was absolutely convinced that David was the right man. During their R-and-R, they'd gone bar hopping in Da Nang with several other pilots. But when the other men had taken the party to the next bar, Jack and David went down to the beach.

David had been very, very drunk (Keith's death had hit him hard), and they talked for a long time, slowly emptying a bottle of whiskey they'd brought with them. The conversation had eventually turned to sex, and David told him how he wanted to have sex with another woman.

"Not that I don't love my wife," he'd slurred. "I do. God, I love her more 'n anything. She's so fuckin' sexy. Oh, man, she's got the sweetest pussy. And her tits...?" he gushed, hands cupping imaginary breasts. "Don't get me started on her tits. I had a hard-on for 'em the first time I saw her. So I love my wife—more 'n anything—but I jus' want a little vari... vari... variation. You know? Is that so wrong?"

"Nothin' wrong with that," Jack had said, suddenly more sober than he'd been all night.

"And Jesus," David had gone on, "I'd love to fuck t... two... two women at once. You know, Beth and S... S... I mean, somebody else. S-somebody really sexy, with a great body and great tits. Yeah, great tits... the kind you can really get your hands around. Not like these little brown fucking machines with their slanty eyes and little tits. God, Jack, how I wanna see a round-eyed woman and a nice set of tits."

"Amen, brother," Jack said.

"Somebody like Beth... but not Beth, you know? Is that so wrong? Is it?"

"It ain't wrong at all."

"I just want a round-eyed woman with a nice set of tits. Beth's got great tits. So's Susan, if you don't mind my sayin' so. Great tits, both of 'em. Tits, tits, tits... just made for lovin'."

And with that, David had passed out.

Jack had been too drunk to get him back to their room by himself, but a helpful F4 pilot and his backseater had lent a hand. They had poured David into one bed and then helped Jack to the other.

Predictably, Jack and David awoke the next morning with vicious hangovers. They commiserated over a breakfast of dry toast and strong black coffee. David claimed not to remember anything from the night before, but Jack privately suspected that he was embarrassed about the entire episode.

To take his mind off his embarrassment, they spent the last day of their R-and-R in a rented sailboat—a 21′ sloop—sailing among the civilian ships in Da Nang harbor. David was a good sailor, although he didn't have Jack's years of experience. But with the wind in their hair, the sun on their faces, and the fresh scent of salt air in their nostrils, they could pretend they were back in the World.

As Jack's mind returned to the present, his thoughts returned to sex. He imagined David fucking Susan, his dick pounding into her, her legs spread around him, her breasts bouncing with each thrust.

Jack shifted to straighten his own erection in the real world, and then shook his head to clear his thoughts. He'd have time to jerk off later. Besides, he wanted to take his time and re-read Susan's other letter: a steamy one describing what she wanted to do with him and another man.

In the meantime, he had to meet David and Jerry for dinner. As he walked toward the officers' mess, he imagined how he'd tell David that fucking Susan was a definite possibility.

He wouldn't tell him, though. Not yet, at least. Susan had told him—firmly—that she'd handle things on her end, through Beth. But Jack whistled as he walked along the corridor, his mind running through different scenarios.

He was still whistling when he stepped through the hatchway into the mess. David and Jerry were waiting for him, and they looked at him with puzzled expressions.

"Jus' thinkin' 'bout my wife, boys," he said in his homiest drawl.

Jerry merely rolled his eyes at Jack's affected Southern manner.

David, on the other hand, hurriedly turned toward the chow line.

Welcome to the world of swingers, David, Jack thought wryly, gazing at his embarrassed friend's back. You just don't know it yet.

**

Copyright © 2006 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.