Scarlett et Sérafine

There was something about these things that always made her feel cynical, reflected Scarlett as she paused in front of the panoramic window. Beneath her sprawled Central Park, a swathe of deep green slowly sinking into shadow as the sun began to set. On one side pale pink edged the skyscrapers; on the other, night-blue; between them she was faintly visible in the glass, ghostly in a pale-rose single-shoulder dress. She adjusted her sleeve, brushed back a strand of hair, sighed; and then felt vaguely guilty.

It had been a long afternoon, and though evening was approaching she wasn't done yet; one of those gala events held every year in aid of some charitable foundation you've never heard of, which exists largely so that old-money widows and new-money wives have something to do. She frowned, finished her champagne, smiled ruefully.

With the last of the bubbles fizzling on her tongue Scarlett blew the city a quick kiss, then turned and continued down the hall. If she was honest, mostly she didn't really enjoy these events because she felt out of place; naturally Scarlett spent a lot of time at glitzy parties full of rich people, but this was different. Somehow it felt as though she was a precocious child brought in to show off for the grown ups. The possibility that this was how she unwittingly treated other, ordinary people lurked disquietingly at the back of her mind. Scarlett shook her head and laughed softly, told herself she was just being a paranoid diva.

Rounding the corner, she walked back into the reception area; with speeches made and official photographs taken, the event was beginning to slowly wind down. Little knots of patrons and committee members drifted aimlessly across the sumptuously decorated space, impeccably dressed staff darting between them. One took Scarlett's empty glass and replaced it with such swift elegance that it took her a moment to register what had happened. A dozen polite conversations muttered in the background, punctuated by clinking glasses and underscored by the works of Erik Satie. A smothering, oddly soothing ambience settled over the softly-lit room, a warm blanket of wealth and privilege keeping the real world safely outside.

After a fortifying sip of perfectly-chilled Veuve Clicquot, Scarlett set out to do her part; it was for a good cause, after all. (Whatever that cause actually was?) For about an hour (although it felt like longer) she worked the room, making small-talk, signing autographs, posing for pictures. The kind of thing she'd done a hundred times before and could usually manage on autopilot, except for the nagging suspicion that half of them weren't entirely sure who she was but were just being polite. Still, if nothing else courteous bemusement made a change from starstruck fawning, and if anyone was staring at her breasts they were being discreet about it.

But it was tiring, making the same empty conversation a dozen times in a row, not to mention thirsty work; the moment she thought she'd done her fair share Scarlett made a beeline for the bar and asked for a Scotch-and-soda on the rocks. As the bartender poured Glenlivet into a highball glass so clean it was almost invisible, she turned away for a moment to look back at the room. For a single piercing moment, the thirty-five year-old Hollywood megastar was struck by the achingly adolescent sense that everyone else is having fun without you. Then the bartender took a perfect sphere from the Japanese ice-press and placed it in her glass with the very faintest of clinks; and the moment passed.

Midway through her drink Scarlett was just starting to think about slipping away soon without seeming rude, when a figure at the other end of the otherwise deserted bar caught her eye. It was the dress that got her attention, bright against the room's muted tones; sheer gradient-dyed silk, blending from skyblue at the high neck to deep violet at the hemline. Locks of glossy brown-black hair tumbled casually past bare shoulders; and when she straightened up with a laugh Scarlett couldn't quite hear, light sparkled on a silver earring.

She turned away from the bar and at last Scarlett got a clear look, breath catching in her throat as she drank in a heartbreakingly beautiful woman with flawless olive skin. Her delicately featured face was that of a fairytale princess; with her slim but not insubstantial figure she could have been a fashion model, or perhaps a dancer. Elegant fingers held the stem of a bulbous Copa de Balon glass; the contents were the same candy-blue as her dress was across her bust. She dropped a twist of lime into the glass and swirled it gently, watched as the liquid changed colour to match the violet silk over her thigh.

Uncomfortably aware that she was staring, Scarlett turned away and raised her own drink to cover her embarrassment. After placing the empty glass on the richly-polished bar she risked another glance and found herself looking directly into the woman's emerald eyes, whisky burning pleasantly on her tongue. Kissable, taupe-glossed lips broke into a smile and Scarlett tried to tell herself that the warm feeling inside was just the alcohol.

"Oh! Scarlett!" she exclaimed in a velvet-smooth French accent, "I was so hoping to meet you!" She crossed the floor like it was a catwalk, presented herself with absolute confidence and leaned in close. Ordinarily Scarlett, with a lifetime's experience of overly familiar strangers, would have some sharp words about inappropriate behaviour; instead she found herself turning her face to be kissed on the cheek. She breathed in the delicate floral notes of some luxurious perfume, ever-so-slightly undercut by the scent of gin, felt that shining hair brush against her arm.

Scarlett blinked, swallowed, collected herself. "It's lovely to meet you..."

"Ah, but where are my manners?" She made a playful curtsy. "Sérafine."

Scarlett, not to be outdone, took her hand and bowed to kiss it, was rewarded by a flutter of laughter. "Charmed, I'm sure..."

Straightening up and regaining her naturally regal posture, Sérafine took a sip of her drink, licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Shall we get you another?" she asked, nodding towards the bar.

"Oh, uh... no," decided Scarlett, who was already feeling a touch light-headed, "no, I'm good."

The talk of the other guests receded to a vague commingled murmur as the pair drifted from the bar to a quiet space and fell into conversation; the kind of eager, easy conversation that only happens between people who don't know each other but want to. Had anyone looked in their direction they would have seen two beautiful women alone together in a crowded room, backdropped by the Manhattan skyline; a tableau that any great photographer would have died for.

"Well, I grew up in Paris after my parents left Tehran, and then-" Sérafine gestured expansively with her empty glass "-well, I'm from lots of places."

"A real cosmopolitan!"

"Oh, but you're a local though, is that right?"

"Sure, Greenwich Village." Scarlett laughed, rolling her eyes. "It's funny, whenever you come to one of these things here everyone wants you to know they're New York natives, but in Hollywood-"

"Everyone wants you to know they're really from somewhere else."

Soon the rest of the room was entirely forgotten and the pair were feeling very comfortable; Sérafine casually brushing stray hair from Scarlett's shoulder, touching her lightly on the arm to emphasise a point. In no time there was more warmth between the two women than anywhere else in the room, warmth that was growing steadily into heat. Retreating still further from the crowd, they found a couch in a corner snug and sidled up close, smooth silk brushing against Scarlett's bare ankle.

She bit her lip, took a deep breath, leaned in conspiratorially. "Sérafine? Will you tell me something?"

"Well..." she pondered, "I don't know, a lady should have secrets..."

"Oh, I'll bet you have plenty to spare." Sérafine affected a sly expression. "What if I tell you one in return?" A smile and a nod. "Well then- are you trying to seduce me?"

Sérafine looked her straight in the eye. "Oh, absolutely."

"Well, I guess I have to tell you mine now, too." She beckoned Sérafine close, brushed her lips against her ear and whispered "it's working."

In reply an arm slipped smoothly around her, Scarlett happily snuggling in and laying her head on Sérafine's shoulder. She breathed in her scent, felt the warmth of her body, listened to her murmur sweet nothings in a voice like heavy cream. Her hand found Sérafine's, lazily admired the contrast between alabaster and olive; then with a little smile pulled it up to cup her breast. Sérafine's breath caught for an instant; then, with a purr of pleasure she began to fondle her, eager fingers exploring soft curves.

Scarlett, in the mood for some exploration herself, placed her other hand on Sérafine's knee, slid it slowly up over her thigh, relishing the sensation of the exquisitely smooth silk.

"Ah, Scarlett?" Her hand kept gliding across fabric, drifting inexorably towards Sérafine's lap. "There's something I need to tell you-"

"But what about your fascinating air of mystery?" giggled Scarlett, her hand gently brushing against the folds of the dress.

"No, really, I think-" Both women suddenly went quiet as Scarlett's probing hand found something that felt both extremely familiar and totally unexpected. Beneath Sérafine's sheer dress she felt what was unmistakeably the bulge of a cock; one that was clearly both large and hard. Sérafine swallowed audibly, became very still. "Scarlett, I was going to tell you, but-" She went quiet again, the distant murmur of the room washing over them for several long seconds.

"It's fine" Scarlett replied, "it's fine, I was just- surprised." As her initial shock faded she found herself wanting more than anything to reassure Sérafine, who seemed suddenly fragile and still.

"Really, it's fine." She felt it twitch, thought about the oh-so-thin layers of fabric between her hand and Sérafine's cock, realised it was more than just fine.

Sérafine let out a slow breath as her natural poise reasserted itself, laughed softly at herself. "Oh, for a moment I thought I'd spoiled it all."

"Silly thing," purred Scarlett as the two of them resumed their gentle groping, "you ought to have more confidence." Sérafine's thumb brushed her nipple; she squeezed her cock, a little less gently. "Um, so are you, like-"

Sérafine cut her off with a finger placed playfully against her lips. "A woman should never be like anything. We are all perfectly ourselves."

"Is that so?" Scarlett mulled. "Well, there is just one thing I have to ask-"

"Naughty girl!" teased Sérafine, before purring "nineteen centimetres..." and giggling at Scarlett's flustered expression.

"That's not what-!" She shook her head with a groan of laughter, silently hoping her math was right. "No, I have to ask - are we going to your place or mine?"

"Oh, I have a suite a few floors up."

"Somehow I thought you might."

Scarlett and Sérafine slipped away from the dwindling gala without saying goodbye, giggling like schoolgirls skipping class as they ducked out a side door. Their escape was slowed only by Sérafine's need to keep 'casually' adjusting the skirt of her dress every time they passed another person, much to Scarlett's barely-hidden amusement.

At last they finished running the gauntlet of organiser, other guests, and hotel staff, and made it safely into a spacious elevator. Sérafine sighed with relief as the door slid closed, placing her hands on the rail behind her and leaning back. As the elevator glided upwards, she leaned back a little more and pushed her hips out, let the fall of her dress show the obvious bulging outline of of the hard cock beneath it. A mischievous, teasing smirk played on her lips as she showed Scarlett how guys struggling not to stare at her tits felt.

A few minutes later and at last they were in Sérafine's room, burning with desire, anticipation, and excitement. Understated luxe décor, suitably chic possessions scattered artlessly; it was exactly the kind of place you would expect to find a jet-setting fashionista. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the entirety of the far wall, dominating the room and offering the kind of Central Park view that most people only get to see on postcards.

Sérafine and Scarlett gazed longingly at each other, letting the feeling build by some unspoken agreement; then they were together at last, caressing skin and silk and hair. Lips found each other in long, sensual kisses as they held each other close, twined in eager arms.

After one last deep, open-mouthed kiss Scarlett disentangled herself from Sérafine, stepped back a few paces, and began to undress. As she stood before her in simple black panties and a flesh-tone bra, Scarlett could almost feel the heat of Sérafine's gaze on her skin. She struck her best cheesecake pose and held it for a few moments, before unfastening her bra and tossing it carelessly aside. Again, she held her pose to let the other woman admire her; then slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and turned around. Bending over to slide them down her legs she made sure to give Sérafine the best view of her ass, before straightening up and looking back over her shoulder with the brightest smile she could muster.

Sérafine was looking at her with an expression of spellbound desire, emerald eyes drinking in every detail of Scarlett's naturally-buxom, gym-toned figure. She drank her fill; then with a flourish her dress was a puddle of colour on the floor, leaving only a pair of grey satin briefs to protect her modesty.

Scarlett broke eye-contact and let her gaze slide down Sérafine's body, taking in perfectly pert breasts, a taught tummy, toned thighs, and then- those bulging briefs. She found herself holding her breath, watching intently as the waistband slid down and down, revealing an inch at a time. At long last it slipped over the head and Sérafine's cock sprang free in all its glory.

She let out her breath in a low, excited moan. "Oh, it's beautiful!" Long, and thick, and hard, jutting out proudly from beneath a well-groomed fuzz of pubic hair, it was possibly the most mouth-wateringly gorgeous cock Scarlett had ever seen. A droplet of pre-cum glinted in the soft light before falling into the plush carpet. "You're beautiful!" Sérafine stood before her utterly naked and fully erect, radiating that same effortlessly feminine poise that had Scarlett fascinated at first sight.

Unable to resist any longer, Scarlett stepped forward and knelt before Sérafine, knees sinking into the deep-pile as she came face-to-face with her magnificent endowment. Almost gingerly at first, heart in her mouth, Scarlett brushed her fingertips against it, stroked it gently as it throbbed ardently. Then with growing confidence she took it in one slender hand, felt its sheer meaty heft against her palm as she took a good look at the equally-weighty balls hanging low beneath it.

Giving a low, throaty moan she kissed the underside of the head and began to slide slowly down the girthy shaft, letting Sérafine's heavy cock rest on her world-famous face. When eventually she touched the base she opened wide and let those big balls drop into her mouth, swirled her tongue lewdly. Sérafine gave a delicious squeak and Scarlett felt wetness high on her forehead as pre-cum oozed into her hair; then she let them free with a wet pop and dragged her tongue back up to the head.

Leaning back and straightening a little, Scarlett looked up at Sérafine, a dirty grin plastered across her sweat, spit, and pre-cum smeared face. For her part the other woman was wearing an expression of pure pleasure, smiling widely in sheer happiness. Her eyes sparkled.

"There is one more thing I think I should say..."

"More secrets?" teased Scarlett, swapping hands and stroking the shaft.

"Well-" it twitched, "-no, it's just," she bucked her hips, involuntarily, "well, it's been a little while since I had an orgasm."

"I find that hard to believe!" Scarlett giggled, feeling drunk with desire for the beauty before her.

"It's true! I like to hold off for a while sometimes, let it build up inside me," explained Sérafine, "after about a week it makes me feel so sensual and sensitive, I love it!"

"Well, I guess that makes sense?" admitted Scarlett, who had never been one for self-denial. "So how long has it been, a week?" Sérafine shook her head. "Two weeks?" Again a shake of the head. "A month?" This time Sérafine nodded emphatically, a helpless expression of mingled pride and embarrassment on her face.

"I heard you'd be a guest, and I knew I'd never have the courage to try and seduce you unless I was really feeling it, so..." she trailed off into laughter. "Oh, but I'm ridiculous." That wasn't quite the word Scarlett would have used.

Trying not to be intimidated by what was waiting for her in those big balls, she pursed her lips, placed them at the tip of Sérafine's cock, paused for just a second or two - then pushed forward and down, letting the fat fuckstick force her mouth open as it slid relentlessly over her waiting tongue. She'd taken longer, and she'd taken thicker; but rarely this long and this thick, and never so beautiful.

With one hand on Sérafine's oh-so-firm bottom and the other on her thigh, Scarlett started, wanting nothing on Earth more than to make her feel good. Working back-and-forth, fucking that gorgeous cock with her eager mouth, she took more and more meat until she was fully throating it. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a hand running through her hair, heard a voice like silk moan softly above her. Then those heavy, cum-laden balls smacked against her chin; a thrill of pride rushed through her and Scarlett felt Sérafine's hand tighten against her head.

Periodically Scarlett looked up to see Sérafine moan blissfully, head tossed back with glossy locks wildly askew; mostly though sucking that incredible cock took so much of her attention that all she saw was Sérafine's cute belly-button. She went all out on it, alternating between mouth-fucking its full length and letting the head press against her cheek so she could swirl her tongue round it.

Sérafine's moans rose with every breath she took, her accent making those delectable candy-sweet squeals sound even more erotic to Scarlett; then she was crying "Oh! Oh!", and her grip on Scarlett's head tightened, then went totally loose. Scarlett knew what was coming next.

She pulled her head back so the head was laying on her tongue, felt the meaty shaft throb against her lips, and then; Sérafine's long-delayed orgasm exploded in her waiting mouth. Spurt after spurt exploded out to fill Scarlett to the brim with rich, thick cum, even as she tried hungrily to swallow it down. Gulping down a mouthful she pulled it out, gasping for breath as her hand groped for the pulsing shaft; before she could aim it down at her tits she took a splattering spurt against her nose.

Another splashed against her chin; and then it was all hitting her breasts, Scarlett pushing her chest out to present a bigger target for the geyser of cum still erupting in her hand. As Sérafine's orgasm eventually began to subside, Scarlett pressed the head against her already well-coated tits and milked the shaft until it was done. After one last swallow, she dutifully took Sérafine in her mouth and sucked her clean.

Face and chest thoroughly spermed, the taste of it still filling her mouth, Scarlett looked up triumphantly at Sérafine, relishing her almost stunned expression. Sitting back on her heels, it took a couple of deep breaths before she could manage "I hope that was worth waiting for?"