Sheila and Her Friends Pt. 06

After her first girl kiss, Sheila just stares, dumbfounded at the thought of what other kisses--intriguing girl kisses--she might yet receive. Suddenly she is eager, no longer worried about the dark twisty steps Clare is leading her down to the Secret Spring.

Clare, still holding Sheila's hand, is wondering to herself how stupid it was to kiss this white girl, the mine boss man's daughter, not to mention Miss Betty's niece. At the old wooden door at the end the corridor, she stops but doesn't open the door. Clare stands hesitant, a frown of worry on her smooth forehead. Sheila understands then how outrageous, even dangerous, it was to be kissed by a black woman--her so-called maid. Her lips are still wet with that delicious kiss. The wetness elsewhere is back, the one that embarrasses and torments her at unexpected times. She rests her cheek against Clare's back and squeezes Clare's hand.

"Don't worry, Miss Clare. I won't tell." And then she giggles, remembering Tiger nipping Clare's ear, "But I would still love to tease Tiger.--Your Tiger is such a big tease, I know she would understand!"

"She'd make you come to bed with us!" Clare giggles now too, reassured that Miss Sheila might be trusted, sensing something special in her frankness.

Sheila blushes unseen in the dark corridor, but takes the initiative and spanks Clare on her butt, "Quit--as your girlfriend would say! If we stand here in the dark much longer I'll be tempted to nip your ear, too!"

Clare laughs then, rich and warm, turns and hugs Sheila, whispering, "Thank you!"

On the lintel cut in the rock above the door is another key. "This is the outer door." Clare says as she unlocks it, putting the key back in its hiding place. Once inside they hear flowing water and feel the first hint of warm steam. "Be quiet now." She whispers as they continue along the shaft until they reach yet another door she opens quietly, peaking into a long room that looks like a big storage closet. She puts a finger to her lips and points to the far wall where rough wooden slats let in glimmers of light from the room beyond--the Secret Spring. Now like naughty girls they tiptoe to that wall and peak thru the slats to spy on the naked woman and their girlfriends playing in the spring. She marvels at the shapes and sizes and hues of their mostly rosy bodies. They glimmer in the steam, slippery in the warm water, while the slender hands of their companions reach out to casually caress their wet shiny skin. A girl is leaning on her side, her head resting on the shoulder of another woman. She stares as a playful hand cups her bare breast. The girl smiles, her eyes closed in contentment. A girl like herself Sheila realizes as she studies the thin bare beauty of her cuddled body.

Pointing to the serving girls carrying buckets of hot water, "My job sometimes," whispers Clare, lips so close to her ear Sheila feels their plumpness and leans into them, the better to steal an accidental kiss.

"Hard work." Sheila whispers back, turning her face so that their cheeks touch. She is still floundering in all of Clare--her unexpected kiss, her rich warm laugh, her stern but forgiving smile, that she sleeps with Tiger, the girl who hugged her own bottom so playfully.

"Careful, Miss Sheila," Clare says, "don't get me started."

"Started?" Sheila asks, looking at her with unblinking eyes.

"Oh, hell!" Clare whispers, "Virgins!" Sheila shudders, sending a tremor through them both. "Come on," Clare says, and pulls her to the curtain on the other side the room behind which they find a set of old cowboy clothes hanging on a nail.

"You need to change."

Sheila stares dubiously at the old dusty clothes. She sees a set of chaps and wonders whether these are really necessary. Clare grins, "Guess you get to wear the whole getup. We'll hang your regular clothes here. I'll help you."

Sheila nods, her face blushing in the dusty streams of light. "Don't worry it's what maids do." Clare shivers as she studies the smooth pale tempting face of her charge.

Sheila takes Clare's hand and looks again carefully at her, at the dim light blending with the dark shine of her cheek, at the beauty she discovers there, "What do friends do, Miss Clare?"

Clare smiles broadly, says nothing, but hums a little tune as she reaches out to slip the straps of Sheila's dress off her shoulders. First the right shoulder, then the left: Like a baby, she lifts Sheila's arms through their hops. Next she reaches around Sheila pressing her body almost against hers to reach the buttons on the back of her long dress. Sheila can't resist, she leans her cheek against the top of Clare's head, and says, "You smell like cinnamon."

"Tiger's always missing with my hair." Clare mutters, surprised and secretly pleased at all this fluttery dangerous flirting going on between them. She leans closer her face almost against Sheila's chest as her fingers slowly unbutton her skirt down the back, the lower the button the closer she gets to that warm chest.

Sheila whispers, "You like my buttons?" leaning forward to help Clare reach the button, surprised and pleasured now by the touch of Claire's forehead resting in the valley of her tingling breasts.

Clare lifts the back of her skirt so that she can reach the last button. She rests her head comfortably where Sheila lets her. Then she giggles softly, moves her head back and forth, the better to feel those warm breasts yet hidden beneath the scratchy blouse and thick undergarment, and says, "Yes, ma'am!"

Sheila's arms reach out. Lightly as a feather floating to the welcoming ground, she hugs Clare, arms along her thin strong shoulders, and, settling, snuggles, thinking she could stay like this all day. Clare feels the girl as she frees the last button, but doesn't move. Instead she gently drops to her knees and lets the girl hug her all she wants, her arm returning the favor, resting on the pert curve to the girl's bottom. It is so innocent, this warmth, the hands that encompass her so tender. Like Tiger she thinks when she sleeps snuggled close on a cold night in their unheated room. After a while Clare and Sheila untangle themselves, dazed and bemused: the hugging, the warm steam, the laughter and chatting of the women behind the wall, the caress of bodies misty in their steamy sinecure, tell them they are in a dream far from the cares of the world. Clare sighs, "We can't stay here all day."

(Lily, smiles and smiles, her eyes wet. Julie holds her, stroking her hair, thinking of cinnamon, and Sheila, herself dewy-eyed, rests her ancient young head between Lily's breasts. 'Home at last.' She thinks. Murmurs of agreement among the girls, snuggling together in the here and now on Miss Betty's big round bed, still floating in the ether of the past.)

Back at the Spring, Sheila smiles at Clare, "I wish I could bring you home with me."

"You can visit Tiger and me anytime." Clare says as she unbuttons the back of Sheila's blouse. My blouse too! Sheila thinks as she feels the warm air on her shoulders.

"Thank you, Miss Clare!" Sheila teases, wondering what it would be like to have that 'sleepover' with her new friends, as she watches Clare unrolling a long strip of bed sheet. "What's that for?"

"Your buttons!" Clare smiles, pointing at Shiela's nipples, little nibs hidden but prominent beneath her undershirt. Sheila blushes remembering her unconscious tease to Clare as the sheet is wrapped tight around her chest suppressing the fullness of her still tingling breasts.

They finish dressing quickly. They've lingered too long. The bulky skirt is exchanged for dusty jeans, her blouse for a worn flannel shirt. Sheila looks at them disdainfully, "These are dirty!"

"You seen many clean cowboys, girlie?" Clare snickers as she straps on the chaps. Now for the tricky part, Clare thinks, getting this frisky girl to Miss Betty's before I get into more trouble.

"Remember the back entrance in the alley where I took you before?"

"I think so."

"We'll go out that way."

"I have to be home in the afternoon, at least by 4."

"Good! The girls will like that. More time to tease their virgin. No one comes around Cheroots until after 6 anyway. You sure your mama won't miss you?"

"She traveling with her lady friends to a luncheon at the fort." Sheila says, referring to Fort Huachuca, an Army outpost 30 miles to the West. Sheila had to fain female sickness to get out of the bumpy hours-long ride and the interminable luncheon.

With surprising ease they navigate the now familiar back alleys until Sheila appears in full costume at the porch of Cheroots, her hair bunched up under a ratty sombrero dipped low over her eyes. Clare hides behind the corner of the building. The girls eye the stranger warily--no one comes to Cheroots in the morning. They start to slink away, not wanting to be seen in their ratty bedclothes. Then they hear the giggle, and wide-eyed, watch the big sombrero removed with a dramatic bow, silver hair freed, as Sheila presents herself. The assembled sirens laugh and clamor to surround her with hugs and playful kisses.

An excited Tiger kisses Clare who has now joined them, "You brought the Virgin!" and pats Sheila on the tempting spot where the leather chaps surround and enhance the pout of her bottom.

Sheila reaches out and hugs Tiger not even bothering to brush her hand away. "Clare has been very nice to me."

"I'll bet!" Tiger grins as she strokes Clare's back.

Meanwhile Helen snuggles her luxurious black mane against Sheila's neck as she reaches around her back to kiss her cheek, murmuring, "Welcome, home."

Arm and arm, Jilly and Blackie saddle close beside Tiger and Sheila. Jilly reaches out and pulls Sheila toward them and hugs her as she giggles, "I'm still waiting for you to touch me."

Blackie strokes Sheila's hair as she smiles at Clare, "Her hair is like yours, little half-breed..." and sniffs it, her chin resting lightly against Sheila's scalp "but no cinnamon."

Eileen is pulling a sleepy Tricksie toward them, her eyes twinkling, "Here Mistress Sheila, I brought your pretty pussy."

Sheila giggles remembering the sleepy blond who snuggled so unnervingly into her crotch and holds out her hand to steady Tricksie. She smiles at Helena, "Why thank you so much for my bringing my pet!"

The girls laugh and fondle their friend playfully, teasing hands resting on her flattened chest, "Come in, cowboy! Miss Betty's still sleeping, but we'll keep you good company!"

They traipse into the house and onto the big L-shaped couches, bare dusty feet rest on the coffee table. Sheila smiles as she settles into the wonderful informality of them all together: Clare and Tiger to her right where Tiger has pressed herself like a wet sheet to Sheila's side. Opposite them Jilly and Blackie sit, their legs entwined holding hands as they stare at Sheila, sticking their tongues out now and then. Tricksie sits to her left, happily content to lay her head on Sheila shoulder. Helena wedges Tricksie between them, her long arm again reaching comfortably around Sheila's shoulder, fingers resting on her shoulder.

Eileen remains standing. Smiling, she announces, "Since Tiger obviously can't get up, I'll serve tea." In a little while, she returns to find Tricksie again slumped onto Sheila's lap. As she did before she grooms her like the sister she never had, sifting her fingers through Tricksie's fine blond hair. Meanwhile, Eileen sets the tea tray on the table. She pours the tea into dainty cups, adding sugar and cream to each. Dutifully, she gives each girl a cup, her eyes smiling, especially when Jilly casually strokes her breast, her hand darting down the open neck of her nightgown as Eileen leans over to deliver her tea.

"Thank you, miss slut!" Jilly says, her fingers busy, not letting Eileen go. Sheila, fascinated, sees only the billowing of the nightgown's neckline where Jilly's thin forearm fits like a pale white snake wiggling into a warm cave. She shivers.

After Eileen finishes serving the tea, she sits at Sheila's feet, fiddling with her boots, "We never allow cowboys to where their boots to bed."

"Bed?" Sheila exclaims.

"Well, ain't you here for good loving, cowboy!" Blackie asks, looking at her expectantly.

Tricksie hears the call to action and wraps her arm around Sheila's chap-skinned leg, "You got to pay to play, Miss Betty wouldn't have it any other way." Frisky fingers tucked between the couch and Sheila's leg knead their customer's warm thigh.

At the mention of Miss Betty, Sheila looks around for her savior. The girls chuckle. Helen says it'll be quite awhile before Miss Betty's up and leans in to note instructively, "Just need to pick one and off you go to a stall in the back."

"Stall!--Do I look like a horse?" Sheila says, warming to the game, despite her reservations.

"There's seven bedrooms in Cheroots." Helen explains. "Three we call stalls 'cause they're long and narrow. We don't want any men bedding down for the night."

"So I just ride my little horsey in there and then what?" Sheila smiles.

Jilly watches Tiger and Clare. Clare looks worried. Tiger looks intrigued. Jilly points to them, "Miss Clare and Tiger show 'em--like that traveling salesman does with those shinny knives they sell. Show 'em how sweet we can treat a swell cowpoke like this buckeroo here."

Meanwhile, Eileen has unfastened the straps that cinched up Sheila's boots and is tugging away at them, distracting Sheila from replying. It doesn't help that Tiger drops to the floor and purrs like a kitten at the entrance to Clare's legs. Clare scoots over and whispers to Sheila, "Just relax. Soon enough you'll be one of the girls."

One of the girls... Like a maestro, Clare plays the perfect chord to begin this symphony of sensual delight. Sheila could resist the teasing and the caresses, but she cannot resist the enchanting idea of being one of the girls, her secret wish, her longing all these days from the first time she spied them playfully lounging on their porch in the dappled shade. She looks at Clare, who see each hesitant blink of her eyes like a butterfly darting, its wings in sunbeams amid a field of tantalizing flowers.

Tiger, too, watches those innocent darting eyes, her heart swelling. She sits on the edge of coffee table and looks at them both, at their barely contained trembling, their faces so close. She reaches out and strokes Clare's cheek, her fingers coming to rest on the curve of her lip. "Like chocolate cake, cowboy, tasty and sweet!" Then she presses the back of Sheila's head and leans her into Clare's intent face. Their lips touch, enfolding themselves in plump sweetness as they press in--urgently in--until at last Clare's tongue traces its way onto Sheila's barely parted, panting lips. Tiger narrates, "A first kiss for the young and tender cowboy here at Cheroots to lose 'his' virginity."

The girls all clap and almost get rowdy until Helena shushes them, pointing to the far bedroom where Miss Betty sleeps.

Sheila leans back on the couch looking at them all and shyly smiles, "Well, not the first kiss!" And caresses Tiger's cheek.

Tiger does a mock swoon and buries her face between Clare's legs. Giggling, "Oh, you little whore!" as she reaches under Clare's skirt to tickle her thighs and spread her legs. Soon the dress is up around her waist and Tiger's face is buried between dark parted legs giving her pussy what today is called a raspberry. Clare squirms.

"See what you started? Said you wouldn't tell."

"Sorry, I wanted to tease this little Tiger who is always teasing me just like she's doing now." Sheila says, unable to take her eyes away from Tiger whose head is still between Clare's legs, her pale brown haired head burrowing like a hungry rabbit into the black tunnel formed between those trembling thighs. The noises have stopped, but now Sheila notices Clare's bloomers are pulled aside. Tiger's face must be touching...!

Suddenly, Tiger gets up and leans into Sheila, her lips wet, her face fragrant and kisses her full on the month, pausing only to slip a wily tongue between Sheila's lips. Panting as she frees the surprised girl, Tiger says, "Just like Blackie said, I don't mind sharing my sweethearts."

Blackie's eyes shift to the door, she hears footsteps on the wood porch. Tiger tenses when she hears Blackie say, "Someones on the porch!"

Holding tight to Sheila's hand Tiger hurries her out of the room. Clare follows. Down the hall, at the first door on the right, they enter a narrow room dominated by a bed tucked into the corner and a short dresser with a water bowl and a pitcher--one of the stalls. Sinking onto the bed they press their faces against the wall and listen.

"Ladies!" comes a voice from the other side of the wall. "Looks like you got company."

"Just a cowpoke." They hear Helen say.

"Little early, ain't it?" the man says.

Clare, her finger to her lips, is watching Sheila. The girl looks intent, focusing on the man's voice.

"Betty 'round?"

"Still sleeping" Tricksie says. "You want a sit?"

"Won't be long now," Tiger whispers in Sheila's ear.

"You girls leave your shoes out?" the man says as he sits down on the couch next to Tricksie. The shoes look familiar almost like the boots his daughter wears to hike around where she don't belong.

Tricksie kicks them under the couch. "Yeah!" and scoots next to the man, until she is pressed against his thigh. "Want somethin' to drink or ya want me?" and giggles.

Sheila's eyes widen as the man says, "You'll do. Don't have much time. Let's get to it." The aggressive voice is unmistakable: She hears her father.

Eyes wide, Sheila nearly shouts at her father were it not for the firm hand tiger has clamped over her mouth. Tiger looks at Clare for help. Clare whispers in Sheila's ear, her arm snug around the girl's quivering chest. "Shh! Shh! Little miss Sheila," guessing at her distress, "just 'cause your Dad has a graving now and then don't mean much. He's a man, ain't he?"

Sheila hears the whispering reassurances and feels the warm press of Clare against her. She sees her friend Tiger, her hand still pressed to her lips, watches her eyes watching her, watches her smiling now and leaning in, her lips just above the hand covering her lips, now moving the hand tentatively away with a single finger pressing at the center of her dimple, moving closer, pouting lips longing to be against hers, lips touching, kissing and kissing. All the while, as in a dream, she feels Clare stroking her hair, whispering to them both, "Kiss her quiet little Tiger, kiss the little princess quiet, kiss her for me..."

Before she knows it, Tiger has traded places with Clare and together they are kissing and kissing their princess, kissing away her disappointment, kissing away her fear, holding on tight and tighter, until soon they are stroking her up and down the still covered length of her body, pressing against her as they do, feeling her quiver, getting closer and closer, until she feels nimble fingers working at the buttons of her blouse, freeing the unwanted cloth from her too-hot body.

"Get under the covers," Tiger whispers and they slip under the thin sheet. "We need to look like we'e fucking--case the door opens."

"Lock the door!" Sheila pants, all the fingers beguiling her with their open buttons and their wandering touches. Clare gets up and tries to slide the latch, but it won't close. "That's so Miss Betty can poke her shot gun in to roust a mean cowboy." Tiger murmurs, her arms tight around Sheila who feels the outline of her firm body and plump breasts on top of her pressed down against her own.

Tiger continues her instruction, "Just in case, you need to get on top, like you're fucking me. No need to take off your boots or them chaps, just slip 'em down a bit, so you can get in me."