Red Lipstick Whispers

"That sounds so wild," Lizzie said, transfixed by this. "Did she lay it on heavy? Or was it super awkward?"

"Super awkward, as you can imagine. It was the first time that either of us had ever had an experience of the sort. It literally lasted almost two hours. But most of that time was spent gauging our own interests and exploring one another. These things can take time."

"That sounds so intense," Lizzie said. "It must have left a serious impression if it shaped your career afterwards."

"Well, after our first super awkward sexual experience together, we laid in her bed, under the sheets. Neither of us knew what to say. Then she sat upright on the bed and started crying. It was like Niagara Falls."

"Jesus. Why?"

"Because now I had the power to ruin her," Marchent explained. "She pressed her face against my chest and I could feel her tears rolling down my breasts. She begged me not to report her to the university. And she begged me to never tell anyone in our community or else she would kill herself. She simply couldn't live with the shame of people knowing about that side of her."

Lizzie gulped hard. "God."

"I know. This was in the 90's in conservative Wisconsin. She would have been destroyed if people knew. But I reassured her. I kissed her on the lips too, to show her that we were on the same footing, that we were in this together."

"Sad times. I'm glad society is finally moving past that sort of judgment. I mean, why do people care so much? Let them be them, and you be you."

"Which brings me to the best part," Marchent said with a wink. "We had met privately at her home several more times. At the end of the semester, she gently told me it was over. She also told me that this was one of the happiest periods of her life. She got to be herself with me. She got to fulfill her desire. She knew I would never betray her. In that sense, she was liberated. She was just...herself. And it was beautiful."

"You're a Saint."

"Not quite. But I try my best to help women reach their full potential; to become the women they were meant to be."

"Does she know that she inspired you?"

Marchent gave a warm expression. "No. But she was the most prim and proper woman I had ever met. The quintessential professional. A pillar of the community. And she always wore this gorgeous shade of red lipstick. For special occasions, she wore high heels. Is that an enticing image to you?"

"Yes."

"Likewise. I named my business High Heels, Red Lipstick with her in mind. It's the least I could do. Maybe someday I'll reconnect with her and tell her all about my adventures."

"You sound like you're still enamored with her," Lizzie noted.

"Yeah, well, you never forget your first. And in many ways, I try to model my middle aged life after her. I'm every bit the soccer mom she was. I go to every PTA meeting and assist with as many school fundraisers as I can. That's most of what I do with my free time."

Marchent paused for a while, then added, "Enough about me. Your turn. Explain your attraction to me. Do you have a thing for women my age?"

Enough with the hiding, Lizzie thought to herself. If Marchent could easily reveal so much, then surely Lizzie could do the same.

And so she did. Lizzie started from the beginning and relayed the story of her early days as a young dancer. Then came the story of her beautiful Instructor, an older woman in her late 30s. It started in the locker room, being naked in front of each other all the time. Then it escalated to private sessions which ended in kissing. Then a private backroom meeting before a show, in which the Instructor gave her an earth shattering orgasm with her mouth as an early celebration for a great performance.

Lizzie concluded, "That was my first and only time with a woman. It was an exquisite experience. I loved the connection we shared, which was only possible because I looked at her like a motherly mentor figure, and according to her, I made her feel young again. So it was like a symbiotic relationship of pleasure. We each fulfilled the other's needs."

"Why did it end?"

"You know the rigors of a dancer's life. She retired as a performer and took a more lucrative job somewhere else. I also moved on to other opportunities. This sort of thing was never meant to last anyway."

"Would you be surprised if I knew all that already?" Marchent asked with a knowing smile.

Lizzie was taken aback. "I don't believe that."

"The truth is, Lizzie, your former dance instructor was actually a protege of mine. We were both dance students together and had remained friends ever since. That performance you spoke of, where you did those naughty things backstage with her, I was there that night and I later watched you perform. I didn't know all the details until she told me afterwards."

Lizzie was plainly shocked. "Really?"

"Are you upset?"

"No, I'm not," Lizzie honestly replied. "I don't know how to feel."

"Well, how would you feel about expanding on these experiences? You'll get to learn more about yourself and others in the process. It's a glorious journey, in my humble opinion."

"Why are you asking me this? Are you trying to pursue a relationship with me?"

"I. Am. Recruiting you," Marchent said in a matter-of-fact way. "My associate is looking for new talent and I've had my eye on you for quite a while. You're just the kind of woman we're looking for. Smart, gorgeous, and you have a real ability to connect with people on an emotional level. It won't interfere with your day job. In fact, it will enhance your day job. You could do something rewarding for yourself, and for others."

Lizzie was both perplexed and drawn in. Although she knew that Marchent had the resume of a businesswoman, she only had a vague notion of what that main business actually was.

"I think I might be interested," Lizzie replied in earnest. "But of course, I'd need more details."

"First, I need to know if you'd be willing to become my new protégé, and not just for the night of the Ball. I need to know if you trust me, and want me in your life."

The answer was obvious to Lizzie. "Yes."

"Alright then. I'll give you the details. Can you keep a secret?"

"Anything."

"Promise?" Marchent pried further.

"Cross my heart. I swear."

Marchent scooted over to sit close to Lizzie, bringing her lips to the young dancer's ear, then whispered...

~~~~~

December 15, 2012 was when the first encounter between Lizzie and her Instructor happened before an evening performance.

Everything was routine by that point. The dancers had finished getting dressed and made their way backstage. Most of the audience had gotten to their seats. And music was playing to set the mood and created a nice ambience.

"Don't go yet," the Instructor said, putting a hand on Lizzie's shoulder.

"Yes?"

Lizzie had looked into her Instructor's eyes to see that same flirtatious expression. Sure, they had kissed a few times on the lips at this point. Twice they made out in the parking garage after a show.

But she had assumed that this was the full extent of their fling (or whatever the hell this was called). Why complicate their relationship any more than it had to be? Lizzie thought they both understood that, even though neither of them had ever said it.

The Instructor gave a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you, for being a good student, a wonderful dance partner, and for being discreet."

"Believe me, I don't want anyone else to know either," young Lizzie blushed. "You're a great kisser by the way."

"How about I kiss you again? Good luck for the show."

"We can't ruin our lipstick."

"Just mine," the Instructor said, her eyes gesturing up and down. "I want to eat your pussy. Please?"

Lizzie's heart skipped a beat. "Now?" was all she managed to say.

"No one's here. I'll be fast."

The Instructor pulled Lizzie to the side of the dressing room, in the open space, but away from the view of anyone walking in the hallway. The dressing room door was still open. Lizzie stood frozen as the instructor dropped to her knees, pulled the bottom of the leotard to the side and pressed her mouth between Lizzie's legs.

And that, was Lizzie's first experience.

~~~~~

Lizzie and Marchent met a few days later when their plans and agreements were finalized. They had a light breakfast at a bustling upscale cafe across the street from the downtown studio, where they sat beside each other.

Marchent looked different today. She wore a business-casual outfit which somehow made her seem younger. On top of that, she wore this provocative shade of red lipstick, which really gave her face a different demeanor. And maybe, she seemed more vibrant because of what was about to come later (whatever that was).

"Her name is Shoshana Kalinski, your new client," Marchent explained. "She's an attractive Jewish girl. She moved to the city recently to attend law school. She also has an extensive background in dance, so she knows what she's doing. Her body is slender and firm, ready for hard work."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "She must be busy as a law student. So what's her interest in dance?"

"Private lessons. From you."

"You know what I'm asking," Lizzie blushed.

Marchent smiled. "As you can imagine, being a law student is quite expensive, so she's looking to help supplement her income. She has an offer to do a solo ballet scene for her cousin's Bar Mitzvah in several months, as well as other potential private events. She has enough family connections to get booked regularly."

"And?"

Marchent smiled wider. "And, Shoshana is quite shy. The problem is she has a bit of stage fright performing alone. That's where you come in. Push her limits. Bring her out of her shell. Make her a woman, so to speak."

There was a sudden clenching feeling between Lizzie's legs. All she could think about was what this girl looked like. How it would occur. And if this would be a horrible mistake or not.

"When would this happen?" Lizzie asked.

"She only lives two blocks from here in a small apartment her father has rented for her. I can text her and we can begin her private sessions if you're ready."

The emphasis on 'private sessions' was enticing to Lizzie. It was all she could think about since yesterday and she had already mapped out her new process.

"I'm ready," Lizzie said. "Text her and let her know that I'm free for the next two hours."

"How do you feel?"

"Nervous."

"Remember everything I've taught you," Marchent said. "You should be fine. You're an excellent teacher and all of your students really admire you. This is simply... a different side of teaching."

"I've missed you," Lizzie said warmly, changing the subject.

"My touch? Or my lips?"

"Both," Lizzie replied. "I'm surprised you didn't make plans for us to meet again after our dressing room affair. I was sure that it would become a regular thing for us."

Marchent leaned forward, whispering, "I need you pent up and full of desire. And for the record, I've missed you too."

Before Lizzie had a chance to digest those words, Marchent reached under the table and touched her inner-thigh, making Lizzie twitch.

Lizzie's eyes roamed the cafe as Marchent rubbed her clit through her panties.

"No one is watching," Marchent whispered. "Unless, you make a scene and draw attention to us."

"Never," Lizzie whispered back.

"Good girl."

Marchent dug her fingers deeper, pulling Lizzie's panties to the side using her finger tips, and plunging two fingers inside the dance instructor's cunt. She rubbed and Lizzie moaned.

"We'll get caught," Lizzie whispered.

Marchent kept her fingers moving. "You're right. We need a more private place, like the dance studio. And we need a new play partner too, like Shoshana. Have you ever tasted Jewish pussy before?"

"No," Lizzie breathed in anticipation.

"It's delicious. You'll find out soon enough. But I am fond of your taste."

Marchent fingers, now wet, pulled out and tucked Lizzie's panties in their proper place. Then she brought her fingers to her own coffee cup, which was now only lukewarm, and swirled her wet finger tips inside.

With the coffee laced with Lizzie's flavor, Marchent brought the cup to her lips and took a long sip.

~~~~~

Shoshana was exactly as Lizzie had imagined. A youthful dancer with many of the physical attributes associated with Jewish American women. Prominent facial features. Olive skin. Curly hair, which was swept back to form a bun. Her body was slender and graceful. Proper manners and posture. She looked cute in her pink ballet shoes too.

Beyond that, Shoshana stood completely naked in the center of the dance studio with her hands clasped behind her back. Her trimmed pubic hairs were curly like the hair on her head. Her pert breasts and light brown nipples pointed forwards. And her chest seemed to heave as she breathed rapidly, most likely out of nerves.

All three of them were in a private dance studio. Marchent had taken a backseat on this matter, sitting casually by the window, with the expectation of a good show.

Lizzie paced the room in her teacher's attire; barefoot with spandex pants and a loose tshirt.

They had already exchanged formalities and they all agreed that time was of the essence. Why wait? There's no point in prolonging and discussing it, when you can just get right to it.

"My name is Lizzie," she said with a faint hint of authority. "And I'll be your instructor. My goal is to help you face your fears and become whatever you want to become. My methods are as follows; you will do whatever I say, whenever I say it. Are we clear?"

Shoshana nodded. "I'll do whatever it takes. I appreciate your time. I've heard many great things about you from Marchent."

"What do you like about ballet?"

"The freedom of it. The beauty."

There was a natural element of innocence and good manners in the shy girl's voice which made her special, and somehow complimented her nudity, and that was endearing to Lizzie.

"And your biggest fear?" Lizzie asked tenderly.

"Stage fright, of sorts. I actually do fine when I'm performing in a group. But when I do solo performances, I feel terrified. I really want to do it. All of my ballet idols excel in solo performances."

"We're your audience here," Lizzie said, referencing Marchent. "Show us your best combinations. Dance for us. And I'll give you my honest assessment."

Lizzie pressed a button on her iPhone, which in turn played classical music on the stereo. Shoshana sprung to life, lifting her chin and spreading her arms, then she spun around and moved with grace. She was light on her feet and it almost looked like she was floating.

It was the first time Lizzie had ever seen anyone dance naked, and it was powerfully erotic. She noticed every ripple in Shoshana's shoulders, thighs, and calves as her body moved. What was more eye catching was seeing Shoshana's butt clenching tight whenever she leapt or spun. Her breasts also formed different shapes whenever she raised or lowered her arms, jiggling whenever she leapt or landed.

Lizzie realized she had a new fetish, watching this youthful dancer perform naked.

The more experienced women in the room watched attentively until the music stopped and Shoshana returned to proper form in the center of the room.

"Are you usually this out of breath?" Lizzie questioned, noting Shoshana's heavy breathing.

Shoshana looked deeply disappointed in herself. "No. I've never had to dance naked before. It's really intimidating."

"I hope you're not intimidated by me or Marchent."

"Never. You two have been very sweet to me."

Lizzie's eyes glanced at Marchent, who professionally observed this interplay with a keen eye. Then Lizzie's eyes switched back to Shoshana, whose heart continued beating rapidly.

"You'll never have stage fright again," Lizzie said in a motherly way, with a newfound sense of power. "Not after this training. If you can perform like this for us, you can conquer anything."

"Thank you," Shoshana meekly replied.

"What shall we do next to squash your fears? Dancing bare like this may not solve the entire problem."

Marchent chimed in, in an instructive way. "Have her masturbate for us."

There was a frozen look on Shoshana's face after the suggestion was made. Her eyes widened a bit and her perfect posture seemed to break.

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Lizzie said, seizing the shy girl's weakness. "Shoshana, play with your clitoris until you cum. It's okay to let go. This is very important."

Shoshana gasped audibly at the lewd request. She remained frozen for a second, but it was clear she wasn't going anywhere. She was staying put. Her feet were planted firmly on the floor. Then she spread her feet slightly, making it clear that she had made her decision.

Her fingers reached down and parted her curly pubic hairs. Shoshana closed her eyes and played with her clit. She moaned. A real one. There was no faking that sort of noise. She wasn't just performing, she was getting off on this, being watched and adored by two gorgeous instructors in the private room.

Shoshana fingered herself faster. Her eyelids moved rapidly, and Lizzie wondered what she was thinking as she was pleasuring herself.

"Let it go," Lizzie spoke softly. "Think about whatever you want. The dirtier the better."

The instructors in the room continued looking on as Shoshana played with herself to full effect. Shoshana moaned more frequently, in soft and short bursts, making cute little noises. Her toes curled and fidgeted inside of her ballet shoes. When they tensed, it was clear she was about to climax.

"That's it. Cum," Lizzie said approvingly. "You look adorable like this."

A trickle of clear fluids leaked through Shoshana's pubic hairs. Some ran down her olive colored thighs. Some dripped directly onto the floor, making light splattering noises. Her body seemed to shift and stiffen as she made silent muffling noises with her mouth.

When Shoshana's climax subsided, a small pool of liquid on the floor, wet stains running down her thighs, and her pubic hairs glistening, an embarrassed expression rose on her face. She put both hands by her hips with a look of guilt, but also a look of pleasure on her face. A post-orgasmic glow that couldn't be denied radiated off her, evident by her wet mess.

"Do you feel ashamed?" Lizzie asked. "Or do you feel liberated to some degree?"

Shoshana took a deep breath. "Both. I've never done anything like this before. But I liked doing it for you and Marchent. It was so exhilarating. My hands are still trembling."

"Then we still have work to do. A dancer must be stern, stoic, and made of steel. Isn't that right, Marchent?"

Lizzie shifted her eyes to Marchent in the background, who was casually undressing until she was completely naked.

Then Marchent approached the center of the studio, naked and barefoot, and wrapped her arms around Shoshana. Their bodies pressed together and Marchent gave the Jewish girl a kiss on the cheek. Their bodies presented a surreal contrast of maturity and youth. Marchent's hands moved all over the girl's body, and Shoshana responded with deeper breaths towards these new, overwhelming feelings. Their lips met. The kiss was wet; sloppy even. Shoshana's tongue hungrily twisted into Marchent's with no regard to performance, only sensation.

Lizzie wondered if this book-smart law student had actually kissed another woman before, much less a sophisticated mature woman like Marchent.

"On your knees, student," Marchent whispered in the girl's ear.

Shoshana sank down to her knees. She looked upwards at Marchent, who took a step forward to bring her pussy to the girl's mouth. Shoshana seemed to know what to do next, tilting her head forward to make oral contact.