The Night the World Didn't End

Still, that didn't explain what was the reason that Don Draper went so far out of his way to push Peggy along, far ahead of other girls who had been at Sterling Cooper far longer. If they were having a clandestine relationship, Joan wondered, what could it be that she was doing for him that he couldn't get someone else? "Joan, do you think something will happen?" Carol asked, changing the subject to the world outside of Sterling Cooper.

Joan didn't answer right off. Thinking about what tomorrow might bring, or if there was even going to be a tomorrow, was something she had been trying to avoid.

"I don't know, Carol," she finally said. "To be honest, I've been sitting here trying not to think about it."

"Oh I'm sorry," Carol apologized.

"It's okay," Joan smiled, then added, "Maybe I'll have that drink after all."

"I'll have one too," Carol said, thinking she could make amends for her mistake.

As Joan poured both of them a drink, Carol said they should do something to take their minds off the news. She mentioned that she saw on the way over that "Five Weeks in a Balloon", the comedy with Red Buttons, Barbara Eden and Fabian, was still playing in the movie theatre around the corner and that maybe they could go see it.

"You know what I miss from the old days," Joan said, ignoring the suggestion and recalling more fun times as she handed the blonde her drink. "How when things weren't going right we'd just go out to a bar somewhere and before long we'd have some guys wanting to buy us drinks and dinner."

Carol smiled, realizing that Joan was a bit more inebriated than she'd thought.

"Well, we can't do that sort of thing now," Carol said as she took a sip of her scotch, thinking that maybe going out might not have been a good suggestion after all.

"Why not?" Joan surprisingly asked.

"Well, for one thing," Carol said, "you're engaged, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Joan said with a small laugh.

"And for another," Carol continued, "I don't go out with men anymore."

When the thought first occurred to her a few minutes ago, Joan had honestly forgotten all about the good doctor. It was surprising how often she had been doing that. She even spent a good deal of time wondering if, after they were finally married, she would be able to remain totally faithful to Greg. Once you took the fact that he was a doctor out of the equation, there was not a lot of good things that she could say about her intended.

If she were brutally honest, Greg was not the great lover he thought he was in bed. Most times, sex was of the wham bam thank you ma'am variety. Not wanting to lose their chance at a good thing, few of the women Greg had been with before had suggested any need for improvement. When Joan had done so, he had become quite defensive and withdrawn. Then, when she went even a bit further and actually suggested certain activities, not only was he unappreciative, but he began to openly question how much prior sexual experience Joan had. Did he really think that, looking as she looked, and as old as she was, that she'd been saving herself all this time for him?

"Joan?" Carol said, seeing that her friend had become distracted for the moment.

"Carol, did you enjoy being with men?" Joan unexpectedly asked, the pleasant feeling from the drinks she'd consumed prompting her to ask a question she'd sometimes wondered about but never had the nerve to ask.

"Excuse me?" Carol said.

"Back when we used to go out together, and met men," Joan said, being more precise in her question, "and sometimes bring them back here. Did you enjoy being with them?"

"Sometimes," Carol answered after thinking about. "I mean there was never really any emotional connection, but I sometimes enjoyed talking, and laughing."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," Joan interrupted. "When you had a man in bed with you, did you enjoy it?"

This time Carol took longer to answer, thinking even more carefully about the question.

"I'd have to say that, occasionally, yes, I did enjoy it" she admitted, "on a physical level at least. Not often, but occasionally."

"How is it different," Joan asked. "With a woman I mean?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that," Carol replied. "There are some similarities, of course, but even when you are doing the same things a man and woman do, it's just different."

"Like how?" Joan pressed.

"I couldn't even begin to explain," Carol said, astonished that, after all this time, Joan was suddenly interested in the subject.

"Then let's just make it simple," Joan offered. "How is kissing another woman different than kissing a man?"

"I'm not sure I have the words to explain even that," Carol replied. "It's just different, that's all."

Joan, obviously not happy with the answer, paused and looked down at her still half full drink. She considered finishing it, but then decided against it and put it down on the end table instead. She didn't want Carol to think that what she said next had been prompted by having had too much to drink.

"Well, if you can't explain it to me with words," she said, leaning slightly forward towards Carol, "then I guess you're just going to have to show me."

"What?" Carol said in a surprised tone, sure she had heard it wrong.

"Show me," Joan repeated, "show me how it's different."

"Joan, I..." the blonde in blue started to say, hesitated, then continued, "Joan, as much as I've dreamed of doing that for the longest time, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I think you've had too much to drink and I'm just afraid that, when tomorrow comes, you'll hate me for it," Carol said, remembering Joan's comment on the phone earlier about her only companion.

"Haven't you been paying attention to the newspapers and the television?" Joan asked. "There might not be a tomorrow to worry about."

Having been practically glued to the radio these past few days, Carol could hardly dispute that thought.

"But what about Greg?" Carol said, even as she felt her self-control starting to weaken against long felt desires.

"Greg isn't here, but you are," Joan replied, moving just a bit closer to her on the couch.

"Joan, I don't know," Carol said, trying to convince herself as much as the redhead.

"Carol, didn't you once tell me to think of you as a boy?" Joan said with her most enticing smile.

Carol slightly nodded her head in acknowledgement, surprised that Joan had remembered that; it had after all been two years ago.

'Well," Joan said as she moved even closer to Carol, "I never met a boy who could say no to me."

Nor, as it turned out, could Carol.

The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to slow as the two women rose from their seats and faced each other. Now it was Carol who closed the space between them, taking the initiative as she drew Joan to her. Their lips gently brushed up against each other, soft flesh against soft flesh. Carol reached up and ran her fingers through Joan's thick red hair, then down across her neck. The press of Joan's breasts against her own added to the thrill as she reached forward with her tongue, parting the opposing lips with its tip, even as its counterpart met it halfway. They could feel the beating of each other's heart as their lips parted for only a brief moment, before sliding right into a second, even more intimate kiss. That in turn was followed by a third and then a fourth. "That was different," Joan said after the last kiss finally ended, "different, but quite nice."

"Oh yes," Carol breathlessly agreed, her lips still tingling with the touch of Joan's.

"And I can now see what you meant by it being impossible to explain with words," Joan added.

Carol smiled, gratified that her unvoiced fear that Joan might have regretted her action had proved unfounded.

"So, since that went so well," Joan said as she took Carol by her hand, "I guess you might as well show me what else can't be explained with words."

It took Carol a long breath to realize what Joan had just suggested. Once she did, however, not another breath passed before she smiled in acquiescence. Part of her wondered if she might possibly still be back in her own apartment, having a most wondrous dream. If so, she hoped she might never wake up from it.

-=-=-=-

Carol's hand in her own, Joan led her out of the living room and down the hall toward her bedroom. As they walked, Carol felt a twinge of hesitation. Not for what they were about to do, of course; it had been her most secret desire for a third of her life. It was the thought of climbing into the same bed that Joan shared with her fiancé, to say nothing of the men that had come before him, that gave her pause. To her surprise, and relief, Joan continued past the main bedroom and brought her instead to the small one at the end of the hall - the one she herself had used back when they had been roommates.

Stepping inside, Carol was stunned to find it was nearly exactly as she had left in on the day she had moved out. Joan hadn't changed a thing.

"I really didn't need the extra space," Joan said by way of explanation why the room was still in the same condition, "and I thought we'd be more comfortable in here," the redhead added as an afterthought.

"Oh Joan," Carol said as the thought as she looked down at the bed where she had laid countless nights listening to Joan entertain men on the other side of the thin wall, dreaming of a night when it would be her turn.

Turning to face Joan, she kissed her again, her outstretched fingers tracing a line across her breasts as their lips met. With nimble fingers, she began to undo the buttons of Joan's blouse, exposing the voluptuous mounds hidden beneath it. How many times, she asked herself as the last buttons gave way, had she stolen a look at Joan as they changed clothes? More than she could remember, she answered herself. This time, however, there was no need to avert her eyes, lest she be caught looking. This time she could take all the time she wanted to admire the beauty she had so desired.

The buttons undone, Joan slipped out of her blouse, leaving only the Maidenform bra to cover her ample endowments. Carol ran her hand, fingers widely extended, down the deep valley between Joan's breasts, a soft sigh only a small measure of the excitement she felt.

Her shoes already discarded, Joan stepped back and pulled down against her Capris, until they were on the floor aside her top. Carol noted with interest the pretty panties beneath, remembering the day the two of them had been shopping and Joan had purchased them. Her heart actually skipped a beat at the thought of the long imagined treasure that rested just beyond that oh so thin material.

"Now your turn," Joan said as she abruptly stopped and sat herself down on the small wooden chair against the wall.

Carol saw the look of curiosity in Joan's eyes and realized that while she had undoubtedly watched a quite a number of men undress in front of her, she'd never had the opportunity to watch a woman do so. At least not in a situation like this. Overjoyed to have her eyes on her, and her alone, Carol was determined to satisfy that interest in the most gratifying way possible.

Standing only a few feet in front of Joan, Carol turned and, reaching behind, slowly undid the zipper of her dress, bringing it all the way down to her waist as it revealed the strap of her bra and the upper edge of her half-slip. With her back still to Joan, she slid off her dress top and then shimmied it down her legs, stepping out of it once it was down to the floor.

Turning around, so that they were now face to face, Carol undid the thin straps of her slip and with much the same movements as before worked her way out of it. She stood there for a few moments, clad in bra, panties and garter belt, along with the flesh colored stockings below. Lifting first one leg, then the other, she undid the hooks of the belt, sliding each stocking down along her leg, until they too joined the growing pile on the floor.

Through it all, Joan watched in fascination as more of her former roommate became exposed. It was hardly the first time she had seen Carol in her underwear; you couldn't share an apartment with someone and not have occasion to do so. Yet those times have been accidental, chance encounters on the way in or out of their respective bedrooms. This time, it was intentional, and the look of pleasure on Carol's face as she disrobed for her brought an unexpected but pleasing exhilaration to Joan.

Carol reached out her hand to Joan and as their fingers interlaced, pulled her close until their lips once more met. Each kiss was filled with greater passion than the last, their tongues sliding in and out of each other's mouths with abandon. As their bodies pressed together, Carol reached around and with deft fingers undid the clasps of Joan's bra. Her movement was so effortless that Joan wasn't even aware at first that it had become undone. Normally, even the most practiced of men fumbled with it a bit, if only due to the excited anticipation of being able to take it off at all.

They separated just far enough for Joan to be able to slide the heavy upper garment down and off her arms, while Carol took the chance to remove her own, revealing smaller but still impressive mounds. Surprisingly, it was Joan who then reached out with her hands first, placing outstretched palms across the center of Carol's breasts, squeezing them softly and enjoying the warmth of her bare flesh. It was the first time she had ever touched another woman in that way, although she had felt her own hefty globes many times.

"Oh, that feels nice," Carol moaned softly, the casualness of her words barely reflecting how much just this simple touch meant to her.

Joan continued to move her hands across Carol's breasts, finding them both familiar and different at the same time. If this was what men felt when they reached out for her, she now understood at least some of their fascination. Almost by accident, the tips of her fingers brushed against Carol's excited nipples, producing a loud gasp from the blonde that was anything but casual.

Up until that moment, Carol was willing to just wait and let Joan explore her body, remembering how excited she herself was the first time she had touched another woman. Now, however, it was impossible to hold her desires in check as she reached out and took hold of the redhead's large breasts.

How many times had she heard some all too forgettable man through the wall between their bedrooms, marveling at a treasure she could only admire from afar. Waves of desire filled her as she held Joan's heavy mounds in the palm of her hand, wanting so much to kiss them, to taste them, to savor their bounty.

Leaning downward, Carol kissed the nipple of Joan's left breast, running her tongue across the length of her areola before closing her lips around it and taking it as deep into her mouth as she could. Then, she shifted her attention to the identical mound to her right and duplicated her action.

Joan let out a soft moan, delighting in the soft, wet embrace of Carol's mouth against her flesh. Long ago she'd lost track of exactly how many men had been there before Carol. What she was sure of was that certainly no man had ever made her feel quite this way. There was a knowingness that a man couldn't match, causing her to wonder what other actions that familiarity might enhance.

That consideration also made Joan realize that there was no turning back, not that she had any intention of doing so. She'd already done things she'd never imagined doing, and for her that was saying a lot. It was a certainty that, before the dawn, she would do a great deal more.

Carol continued to kiss Joan's bountiful breasts, working her tongue down across the deep valley between them. Then she worked her way back upward, until she once more found Joan's mouth. This time the kiss was hungrier, more primal, her lust for this woman greater than for anyone that had come before her. If Joan's comment of earlier was true, that this could be the last night of her life, then after it she could die complete. If all they had were these hours together, then she would make sure that every one of them counted.

-=-=-=-

This time taking Joan's hand, Carol led her to the bed and eased her down on it, letting her stretch her tall frame across it before she climbed on it herself, kneeling on one of the small, empty spaces near the edge. Bending down she kissed the redhead, this time a brief soft touch. Then her left hand danced past Joan's bust, working its way down across her stomach until it stopped at the only clothing her lover still had on. To Carol's delight, the cloth felt moist with excitement as her fingers pressed against it, physical proof that Joan was enjoying this as much as she was.

With slow, deliberate movements, Carol guided her fingers under the waistband of Joan's panties and resumed their journey to the treasure within. A loud gasp spilled from Joan's lips as the blonde's hand made contact, the tips of her fingers coming to rest on her clitoris. Ever so gently, Carol began to manipulate the hard nub, the motions of her hand having an immediate effect on Joan.

"Oh, that feels good," Joan gasped as ripples of pleasure began to wash across her body, their intensity growing with each passing moment.

Joan had discovered masturbation at a quite early age, quickly coming to the conclusion that no matter what anyone else said, nothing that felt so good could ever be wrong. In no time at all, she discovered just where to touch herself to achieve maximum delights. There had been men over the years that gave this most sensitive of spots its due, but they had been few and far between. Even then, it was the fewest of the few that managed to equal the pleasures that Joan usually brought to herself. Yet, in only the space of minutes, Carol had easily unlocked the secrets of Joan's body.

"Oh Carol," Joan cried out, "don't stop - whatever you do, don't stop!"

Carol, of course, had no thought of doing anything of the sort as her thumb continued to caress Joan's clit, even while she slipped one, then two, and finally three fingers deep into the equally sensitive canal beneath it. The look of bliss on Joan's face was a joy for her to behold, especially since she knew it was but the tip of the iceberg, as they say.

These particular panties, Carol remembered, had been as expensive as they were delicate, meant more to accentuate rather then conceal. With a strength born of impatience, she gripped the one firm edge and ripped the material, causing the rest of the undergarment to come undone. Then it was just a matter of sliding what was left out of the way.

The sight of the lightly trimmed red haired mound that had so occupied her dreams caused Carol to pause in what she was doing. Originally she had intended to continue her hand play a little longer, as Joan was enjoying it so. That thought now faded, replaced by an overwhelming desire to savor what she had always imagined as the nectar of the gods.

Quickly shifting her position on the bed, Carol pushed Joan's legs wider apart and climbed into the space between them. Then, she lifted each leg just high enough for her to fill the void her hand's withdrawal had created with her head.

Once Joan realized that Carol's hand had been removed, a momentary sadness filled her, but it was a feeling that quickly dissipated once she realized the reason why. If few men took the time to pay proper attention to her clit, even fewer even considered what Carol was now so eagerly positioning herself to do. Of course it almost went without saying that the majority of them expected her to perform the same act on them without hesitation.

As she neared her prize, Carol took a long moment to savor the pleasant scent of womanhood drifting upward, an aroma more appealing than the most expensive perfume. As her face came even with the tightly trimmed hair, she kissed the center of the mound, slipping her tongue out between her lips just enough to taste the sweetness of its nectar. It was all she had imagined it would be.