Rain Girl

I didn't pay much attention when they moved in upstairs. I was close to finishing my fourth year of university—an undergraduate degree in English and philosophy—and I was studying hard for my final exams, as well as trying to finish a short story that I'd been working on for months..

I was renting the entire second floor of the house—bedroom and kitchen on the east side of a hallway, living room opposite. My bathroom was at the south end of the hallway. At the north end of the hallway stairs led up to a tiny attic loft, and beside them another set of stairs turned down to the ground floor, where a door exited onto the street. The rest of the ground floor was taken up by a camera supply store.

I heard a girl's voice. "How are we going to get our couch up these stairs?"

I got up from my desk and leaned through the doorway. "Do you need some help?"

"Oh, thank you! I'm Stephanie." Stephanie was a petite blonde—barely over five feet in height, slim, and very fair, with pale blue eyes and a scattering of faint freckles on her nose and cheeks.

"And I'm Marie." Marie was tall—about a half foot less than my six foot one. Her warm brown skin and exotic features were a stark contrast to Stephanie. The muscular shoulders and arms showing under her white tank top suggested she might have some African ancestry.

They were both attractive, and approximately my own age, but I didn't expect we'd be anything more than neighbors. Women—especially girls my own age—generally don't find me interesting. Not that I'm ugly—I have a pleasant enough face—but I'm tall, skinny, and bookish, with coloring very much like Stephanie's, and glasses. But my parents raised me to be a gentleman, and I couldn't just leave them to struggle on their own.

"David," I replied.

For the next hour I helped Marie wrestle their furniture up the two flights of stairs, while Stephanie handled the smaller boxes and bags. Finally we were done, and I turned to go downstairs.

"The landlord said we'd have to share the bathroom with you," Stephanie called out.

The landlord had offered me the loft when I signed the rental agreement for the second floor apartment. "I've been trying to rent it out as a studio at a two-fifty a month," he'd said. "But if you want it, I'll let you have it for an extra hundred and fifty."

I hadn't needed the space so I turned him down, thinking it very unlikely anyone would want to live there. But now I had two girls for neighbors, and I was going to have to share my bathroom with them. I felt my face burn hot. I embarrass easily, and my fair skin shows it.

"Umm, no problem," was all I could think to say.

"Would you mind if we used your kitchen, as well?" Marie asked. "I mean, I suppose we could get by with what's here, but ..." She gestured to the hot plate and tiny fridge and her voice trailed off on a pleading note.

"Sure, no problem." I suppressed the sigh that I felt deep inside me. "Just—I'm studying for finals, so I really need to concentrate on that for the next couple of weeks."

"You won't even notice we're here," Stephanie assured me. Marie nodded in agreement.

The third week of April I wrote the last of my exams, and felt pretty good about how I'd done. The next day I sat down at my desk beside the door to the hallway, pulled out the most recent draft of my short story, and started working on it.

Late in the afternoon, Stephanie poked her head through the open doorway. "I thought you were finished your exams."

"I am. I'm working on a short story I hope to get published."

"Oh, you're a writer?"

"Uh-huh." I was being a little generous with myself. I'd had exactly two stories published in the past three years, but it was a start, and it was what I wanted to do with my life.

"I'm making a fish stew for tonight. Would you like some?"

"Um, sure. Thank you."

"I need to hang some pictures upstairs," she continued, "and Marie's away all afternoon on a modeling job. Can you spare some time to come and help me?"

"Umm, sure," I replied. "Just give me a few minute to finish what I'm working on."

It was almost half an hour later when I went upstairs and was met by the sight of Stephanie, standing nude facing away from me. I'd grown up in a very conservative, British household, and was not at all comfortable at the sight of a naked female body.

I blushed a violent red and turned my back. "Stephanie!" I yelled, "you're naked!"

"So what?" she responded, obviously surprised by my reaction. "I don't mind if you see me naked."

"I mind!" I cried. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to seeing naked bodies, especially female ones. Could you please put on some clothes."

She put on a t-shirt and panties, and I helped her hang her pictures. I could help but notice that most of them were of Marie, nude and erotically posed. Stephanie couldn't help but notice my discomfort at seeing them. "It's okay. Marie loves people seeing her nude."

Over dinner that night the girls suggested it would be more economical for all of us if we prepared and ate meals together and shared grocery expenses. It made sense and I agreed. Within a week we'd become a joint household, the girls sleeping upstairs, and me downstairs.

Stephanie had grown up on Vancouver Island, "in and around Nanaimo," she said. Her father had given her an old 35mm SLR camera for her ninth birthday, and she had been hooked on photography ever since. She was the youngest girl in a family of four children. "My poor brother had four mothers," she laughed. She was freelancing, trying to make her reputation as a portrait photographer.

She and Marie had met in Montreal where Stephanie was doing a fine arts degree. Marie had come in to model nude for a life drawing class Stephanie was taking. Stephanie was fascinated with Marie's skin tone and musculature and, after the class was over, approached her and asked if she'd be willing to let her take some photographs of her. "I won't be able to pay you very much," she admitted. "But if I sell any pictures of you, I'll give you twenty percent of what I make."

Marie had lived most of her life in Toronto. Her parents had emigrated to Canada from Tahiti just before Marie was born. As a child she took up gymnastics, dance, and martial arts. Her parents were naturists, and Marie and her younger brother spent all of their childhood summers at nudist camps throughout North America.

"How did you end up in Winnipeg?" I asked them.

"Economics," Marie answered. "Toronto and Montreal are great cities to work and live in, but their very expensive. We needed someplace that we could afford, and would let us earn a living."

"Stephanie freelances as a photographer," I remembered. "What do you do?"

"I model," replied Marie. "And I strip."

"She's a lingerie model," Stephanie elaborated. "And she poses for photographers and art classes. And weekends she does exotic dance at clubs around town." Stephanie giggled. "She gets great tips, but she really just does it because she loves dancing naked for an audience."

Although the girls agreed to be more modest around me, they were secretly determined to cure me of my embarrassment at seeing their nude bodies.

"David, would you mind if I used the hallway every morning to do tai chi?" Marie asked a few evenings later at supper. "There really isn't enough floor space upstairs,"

It seemed harmless enough, so I agreed. The next morning I came out of my bedroom to use the bathroom and found Marie in the hallway wearing a very thin white leotard, moving gracefully through the elements of her tai chi workout. The sheer fabric did nothing to conceal the dark skin underneath. I fled into the bathroom, blushing furiously.

After her workout, Marie took a bath. I was at my desk, writing when Stephanie came downstairs to use the bathroom, wearing only a t-shirt and panties. As she opened the bathroom door steam billowed out. Stephanie stepped back, revealing Marie in the bath, her breasts exposed above the water. Embarrassed, I looked away, only to be ambushed by the sight of Stephanie peeling down her panties and sitting on the toilet to empty her bladder.

Winnipeg is famous for its long, cold winters, short, intense springtime, and hot summers. July brought on an extended heat wave—temperatures into the mid-eighties and high humidity. I have a very low tolerance for heat, and I was miserable. The girls seemed to enjoy the heat, as it gave them an excuse to wear as little as possible.

Saturday evening brought on a torrential rainstorm. It was after eleven when Stephanie ran into my living room wearing just a t-shirt and panties. "David, it's pouring outside and I adore walking in the rain. Will you come with me?"

I stared at her from my seat on the couch. "Walk? In the rain? Like that?"

"Uh-huh. I love the feeling of rain on my skin. It feels so sensuous." She shot me a mischievous glance. "It makes me feel all tingly and ..." her voice turned sultry; "... horny." She giggled at my sudden blush of embarrassment. "Come on, David. Please?"

"I don't have an umbrella," I argued. "I'll get soaked."

"That's the whole idea," she countered. "Put on a bathing suit and come with me. Ple-ease?"

"I don't have one."

"You don't have a bathing suit? What about shorts?"

I shook my head.

She stared at me for a brief moment. "Well, then, just dress like I am," she suggested, "t-shirt and underpants."

"What? No!" I stared at her in astonishment.

"David! I've seen lots of naked men. What's the big deal about seeing you in your underwear? No one else is going to be out in this rain. Stop being silly. Or do I have to undress you myself?"

I was frozen in shock. The thought of her seeing me just in my underwear—even worse, appearing like that outside—paralyzed me. She stepped in front of me. Her white cotton t-shirt barely came to her waist, her white cotton panties hovered in front of my face. I hastily averted my eyes, blushing.

She tugged me to my feet; her hands went to my waist, unfastening my belt and pants, pulling them down. To my horror, I felt my penis suddenly stiffening inside my underpants.

"Oh, wow! Look what you've been hiding!" she exclaimed, brushing the bulge with her fingers.

I was now blushing all over. The phrase 'dying of embarrassment' seemed starkly prophetic. Stephanie took no notice. She changed me into a t-shirt, then knelt and pulled off my socks. She left me to dig in my closet and brought a pair of sandals I'd forgotten I had. She slipped them on my feet, then lifted my glasses off my face. "You won't be able see through these in the rain," she said. Taking my hand, she pulled me down the stairs and into the street.

The rain was bucketing down, and in moments I was soaking wet. Stephanie danced ahead of me, twirling and shrieking in glee. Broadway, the street on which our house was situated, was brightly lit, but save for a distant bus the sidewalks and roadway were deserted. I felt myself relaxing, my inhibitions and embarrassment washed away by the pelting rain. In spite of my fears and reservations I found myself smiling; Stephanie's unbridled joy was infectious.

Stephanie led us away from Broadway and its bright lights, into the neighboring side streets sheltered by grand old elms. Here the rain seemed gentler and the darkness felt safe. Stephanie's route took us from one street to another, and I quickly lost any sense of direction. I knew that I'd be utterly dependent on her to get us back home. Without my glasses, everything further than a few feet away was just a blur.

We came upon a little park—a half-block grassy space with three benches and an antique street lamp. As we passed under the lamp post Stephanie stopped and posed. The rain had made her t-shirt and panties virtually transparent. Reflexively I glanced down at myself: my white cotton t-shirt and briefs weren't hiding anything either.

"How well can you see without your glasses?" Stephanie asked.

My face burned with embarrassment. "Your t-shirt ... you look almost naked."

She pulled the wet cotton taut over her breasts, giving me a view of her nipples through the translucent fabric. "Would you like to see me naked? For real?"

My voice was hoarse. "I don't ... I haven't ... Yes, please." The last two words were a whisper.

She took a step back and peeled her t-shirt off over her head, then pushed down her panties and stepped out of them. Her pale skin shone wetly under the yellow lamplight. Her small breasts were firm and full, high on her chest, tipped with light pink nipples that were crinkled from the rain. They were the perfect size for her petite frame. Her rib bones cast faint shadows, tapering to a narrow waist. Her tummy was smooth and flat, her belly-button an elliptical dimple; her hips were narrow, the bones slightly protruding. At the base of her belly coppery threads of hair decorated the 'V' of her pubic mound, prettily framing the dimpled crease of her sex.

Shyly she stepped forward once again, pressing her nude body against me, offering up her pale, grinning lips for a kiss. I didn't resist.

She looked up at me, water glistening on her face. "Rain makes me horny," she whispered. She scanned my face, hesitating. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

I nodded mutely.

"Then this is for you," she said.

Before I could stop her she yanked my briefs down to my knees. Putting her arms around my neck she hoisted herself up and curled her legs around my hips. I cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation of her wet warmth sliding down over my rigid penis. Without any warning I ejaculated, holding her tight and pressing hard into her, shuddering as wave after wave of pure pleasure shot through me.

We fell in a heap on the wet grass. Feelings of elation and shame flooded my being. "I'm sorry!" I cried.

"No! Shhh. I told you that was just for you" She kissed me again. "I enjoyed doing that for you, and you felt good inside me—very good. Next time you'll last longer, I promise."

I lay in the pouring rain, enjoying the feeling of utter relaxation that flowed all through me, and mulling over her mention of a 'next time'

Stephanie kissed me again. "Was it alright for you?"

"Alright? It was amazing!"

"Better than doing it to yourself?"

I blushed, thankful it was too dark for her to see. Masturbation was something I was particularly ashamed of, and I really didn't want her to know I did it. "Umm—yes."

She giggled. "I'll bet you're really blushing right now," she said. "You don't have to be ashamed, Everyone does it. Marie and I often do it together."

"Together? You and Marie?"

"Uh-huh. You know we're lovers, right?"

That Stephanie and Marie might be lovers had never occurred to me. The thought both shocked and thrilled me. "Lovers? No, I never ... You're ... lesbians? But you just ..."

She laughed. "We're not lesbians, no. At least, I'm not. I like having sex with boys just as much as having sex with Marie. But she's never had sex with a boy—just girls. Mostly me. You know that she dances in strip clubs on weekends? She'd do it even if they didn't pay her. It turns her on to have all those men gawking at her. When she comes home after dancing, we make love for hours."

She sat up and peeled off my t-shirt and briefs, leaving both of us completely naked. She stood up and tugged me to my feet. "Come on. Let's walk back home just in our skin."

Strangely, I wasn't worried that someone might see us—being naked in the rain seemed perfectly natural.

"You're the first boy I've ever done that to," she said as we walked.

I was astonished. "That was your first time, too?"

Stephanie laughed merrily. "No, no. I meant I've never initiated sex before. At least, not with a boy." She squeezed my hand. "I'm still horny, you know. When we get back home you're going to have to do something about that."

Up in the loft we toweled each other dry. Naked together on the bed, we kissed and caressed. She guided my hands over her body, stroking the sides of her breasts, brushing her nipples into little mountains; gentle little scratches on her belly and pubic mound; teasing my fingers along the crease of her thighs and behind her knees; squeezing and fondling her buttocks. Gently exploring between her thighs.

Her pale pink labia were open and wet. She steered my fingers there, lubricating them in her juices, then moving them up to the little pink hood that covered her clitoris. She gasped as I reached it. Releasing my hand, she lay back and let me play and explore.

Minutes later her hand encircled my fully engorged shaft and tugged me towards her. "Come in me."

Kneeling between her open thighs I entered her. She gasped and cried out as she felt me fill her. I moved inside her, driven by the exquisite sensation of rubbing against her vagina walls. My need wasn't so great this time, and I lasted long enough to bring her to climax. She bucked and screamed, calling out my name. Urgent desire took over and I hammered against her until I burst. She climaxed again, even more intensely, and we shuddered and spasmed together.

We were both still recovering when we heard Marie's footsteps on the stairs. But it was only when she actually appeared that I remembered that I was stark naked in her bed with her girlfriend. I hastily pulled a sheet over myself and waited, dreading the outburst that was sure to come.

Marie was soaking wet from the still-pouring rain. Her white tank top clung to her torso, her dark skin showing through the translucent material, her braless breasts clearly visible. She dropped her bag, kicked off her sodden sneakers, and walked over to us, her skin-tight blue jeans dripping water on the floor.

She stopped beside the bed, gazing down at us, a naughty smile on her full, red lips. "So—did you have to rape him?" Marie asked Stephanie.

Stephanie giggled. "Pretty much. I had to undress him and drag him out into the rain, stun him into immobility with my naked body, then literally jump his bone. But the second time was much better."

She stood up on the bed and gave Marie a passionate kiss on the mouth. "I'm still pretty horny. How do you feel about letting him watch us?"

My penis had jerked into alertness at the sight of the two of them kissing, Now it swelled into full tumescence.

"That would be fun," Marie responded, "but he'd probably die of embarrassment."

Stephanie shook her head. "I don't think so. He walked naked with me back to the house."

"But as soon as he saw me, he pulled the sheet over him."

"I know," Stephanie tried to soothe her. "He's still a little shy around you. "

Marie snorted. "A little? You know, as sweet and adorable as his shyness and embarrassment are, I'm tired of having to hide myself every time he's around. We need to blitz his inhibitions right out of him."

"How do we do that?"

"Shock treatment. We embarrass him so much that he can't be embarrassed any more. And I know just how to start."

Marie turned her dark, flashing eyes to me. "David, I want you to masturbate while we both watch."

I felt my jaw drop open in shock. She wanted to see me do that? And then I remembered Stephanie telling me that she and Marie often did it together.

A wicked grin blossomed on Marie's lips. "In fact, Stephie, why don't you get your camera? I want pictures."

"Oh, yes!" Stephanie sprang off the bed and ran to a cabinet, where she kept her photographic equipment. "And I really want some pictures of you and David together."

"Together?" Marie was taken aback. "You mean, having sex?"

Stephanie laughed gaily. "Well, I'd really like that, if you'd do it. But, no—I meant just posing together; sexy, but not sex—at least, not real sex."

"We'll talk about that later. I have other stuff in mind, too."

I'd been listening to their conversation in a state of complete disbelief. I heard Marie's last comment and saw her eyes turn back to me.