The Woman on the Twelfth Green Ch. 02

Erin was an accomplished cellist with a growing reputation. After graduation, she had successfully auditioned with several symphony orchestras and accepted one with a major symphony. Her talent and relentless hard work allowed her to rapidly move up to second chair, much to the consternation of the other cellists, including the first chair. Kiersten had also auditioned with several symphony orchestras. She received offers but hesitated to accept one. She wanted to be close to home for her father. She was convinced to return home when she was offered a position as music teacher at one of the local high schools. The director of the consolidated high school orchestra was retiring in two years, an opportunity Kiersten coveted.

Erin had several reasons for her visit. Her orchestra season had already ended when Kiersten arrived in town with Michael Freed's band. She had a month-long residency at Yale University Summer School of Music beginning in a few weeks. In addition to wanting to see Kiersten and meet me, she was also interviewing at the state university for a position as an associate professor. She said getting the university position was a long shot, but it was an intriguing opportunity.

Kiersten's last two performances with Michael were in the city where Erin lived. They had talked on the phone and arranged to meet. Kiersten had already asked Erin to be her maid-of-honor. Erin offered to drive Kiersten home since she was coming to town anyway. Kiersten didn't hesitate to accept a chance to spend some time with her best friend.

I learned other details of their college years over the course of the day. The first time Kiersten and Erin were intimate was during their first month of grad school. Kiersten's date stood her up and didn't have the courtesy to call. Erin came home early from a disastrous first date with a self-absorbed junior associate at a Wall Street law firm. They drank a couple bottles of wine while watching a chick flick. When Kiersten decided to call it a night, she hugged Erin. Erin had put a hand on Kiersten's cheek and kissed her on the lips. Both being a little tipsy, that first kiss was just the beginning. They both felt a little awkward in the morning, but still found themselves in bed together before lunch. Though they enjoyed each other occasionally, both still preferred a man's company. Until the previous night, they had never invited a man into one of their trysts.

Erin had some interesting wrinkles to her sexual appetites. She liked masturbating in public. She especially enjoyed it if there was a chance she'd be watched. Kiersten knew about this because she had been with her on several occasions when Erin couldn't resist getting herself off when there were other people around. Sometimes, she made sure she could be seen. She chose situations where many people were around but only one or two would be able to see what she was doing. In most cases, the victim was much younger male who was by himself though not in a position to pursue her. She sometimes did it when a woman or a couple could watch.

Kiersten had been mortified at first. But over time, she began to accept her friend's public masturbation fetish. Kiersten sexual activities were confined to the bedroom until one night when she had gone backpacking with a group of friends. She had gotten aroused one night but didn't feel comfortable masturbating in her tent with others close by. She sneaked off to a nearby overlook to satisfy her need, while everyone else was asleep. She found being outside provided an element she didn't experience at home. When she didn't get caught, she didn't hesitate to do it several more times during the week-long hike. When she returned home after college, she began to visit the golf course when the urge arose. But she had never wanted to be watched or caught.

I had wrecked Kiersten's routine when she learned I had watched her. But it also gave her a thrill she didn't anticipate. Kiersten apologized for her moodiness in the weeks after catching me on the golf course. The revelation that being watched excited her was disconcerting. She had trouble internalizing and accepting this new facet of her sexuality. She made peace with it when she considered how much it had excited me, too.

Erin visited for almost two weeks. I spent most evenings with them. We even did things other than have sex, though that seemed to be at least part of most nights. Erin's presence super-charged Kiersten's libido and I enjoyed every minute of it. Erin wasn't with us every time but often enough to make things more interesting than usual.

My physical condition deteriorated toward the end of the two-week visit. Work colleagues commented that I was worn out and listless during the day. My boss asked if I was sick. I told him I hadn't been sleeping. There was some tension with family over the wedding guest list. He just nodded his head in understanding as he smiled back at me. That brief conversation got me the rest of that Friday afternoon off.

Erin's car was in the driveway when I pulled up in front of Kiersten's that afternoon. Violin and cello music emanated from the house. I let myself in and made my way through the house, following the sounds, to Kiersten's music studio. The music room was an addition off the back of the house and the largest room in the house by far.

A large desk with a state-of-the-art computer system and several pieces of music-related electronic hardware I knew nothing about, and a small mixing board took up most of one wall. A custom-made speaker was on either side of the desk and mixing board. One corner was occupied by several antique wooden filing cabinets. Part of the room was dedicated to a Steinway baby grand with a damaged finish. It looked like hell, but Kiersten said it still played well. In the corner beside the Steinway, several violins and fiddles were stored in their cases. There was a safe in the same corner. I had never seen it open.

I knew Kiersten she owned an expensive violin. She also had a very valuable violin lent to her by a wealthy local patron of the arts. She constantly worried that her patron would take it back, since she hadn't performed much since taking over as high school orchestra director.

Kiersten and Erin were playing the violin and cello parts for what I later learned was a Beethoven composition for string quartet. Though it was well after lunch, both looked like they had just rolled out of bed. Their hair hadn't been brushed. Neither was wearing make-up. Erin wore only an old, thread-bare tee shirt she slept in, panties, and ankle socks. Kiersten looked pretty much the same, wearing only her bra, panties, an open robe, and slippers.

I didn't announce my arrival. And they paid me no heed. They were intensely focused on their music. Periodically, they would stop and discuss what they were doing, using terminology I didn't understand. They would then resume playing again, repeating the passages they had just interrupted. I sat quietly, on a stool near the piano, for an hour, just listening. I knew little about classical music, but they sounded damned good. But they kept interrupting, trying to hone their playing.

Erin eventually put her bow down and expressed a need to get a drink. Kiersten set her violin in its stand and stood to follow. When Kiersten saw me, she asked, 'When did you get here, Dennis?' Erin looked just as surprised.

'My boss told me to knock off for the afternoon. Everyone has been telling him how tired and drawn I look. He sent me home at about one. I came straight here.'

Kiersten gave me a quick kiss as she passed by on the way to the kitchen. I followed along. Erin and Kiersten decided to eat and set about making sandwiches. Kiersten offered but I declined, having already had lunch.

When they sat to eat, Erin looked over at me with a grin. 'Your boss sent you home because you looked tired? Maybe we should let you go to sleep at night instead keeping you up to fuck us.' Kiersten laughed and playfully slapped her friend's arm.

'Have you been disappointed?' I asked. 'I'm perfectly happy to focus on Kiersten,' I teased. I already knew she had no complaints. Kiersten and I had left her breathless and incoherent the previous night. She was asleep before I returned from getting water. She didn't wake when Kiersten and I began again.

'I suppose not,' Erin conceded, still grinning.

'Is this what you two do during the day while I'm at work? Sit around in your underwear practicing cello and violin?'

'Pretty much,' Kiersten replied. 'But we're usually clothed. For some reason, we got to work before we got dressed.'

Erin changed the subject. 'I think we should do this if I get the position at the university. It's not likely but we should explore it if I do.'

My curiosity was piqued. 'Explore what?' I asked.

'Erin and I are talking about forming a string quartet. If she moves here and we can find another violin and a viola to join us,' she told me. She turned to Erin, 'Do you remember Brad Vincent? He's in the music department at the Farm.' The Farm is what locals called the private university in town. The university had been founded on donated land, formerly a farm, and a large endowment from a late nineteenth-century agricultural tycoon and industrialist.

Erin laughed, but there was no humor in it. 'The biggest horn-dog and pervert at Julliard?'

'He still is,' Kiersten giggled. 'But he can play and he's okay as long as he's holding his viola. If he knew you were involved, he'd jump at the chance to play with us. He might not be so bad now. He's not married but he's been living with the same woman for three years now. She's one of the local state prosecutors.'

'I'd be afraid that he'd want to jump into a different kind of play,' Erin was serious now. 'He was pretty creepy, senior year.'

'I remember now,' Kiersten was serious now, too. 'He finally left you alone after Danny threatened to break all his fingers.' Kiersten turned to me. 'Danny was the bouncer at Gilson's, a club we frequented. He was huge. Six-eight at least. All muscle and the grace of a leopard. I don't think Danny ever liked Brad. He saw Brad get a little too handsy with Erin. Slammed him against the wall. Picked Brad up off the floor by the throat with one hand and threatened to end Brad's music career. Brad stayed clear after that.' She turned back to Erin. 'Okay, Brad's loss. No way we're working with him.'

After lunch, Erin and Kiersten went back to the studio and resumed their practice. They worked on the same piece for several more hours. I retired to the living room and turned on the television. I muted the sound, turned on closed caption, and tuned to a sports channel.

When Erin and Kiersten were done, they showered, dressed and announced I was taking them to dinner. I washed up a bit and changed out of the clothes I wore to work that day. We piled into Erin's SUV and headed to dinner.

The city had a wealth of restaurants, about half of them Italian. But we ended up at Al Conte's, an upscale Italian restaurant in a lake-side community a good forty minutes away. It had private dining rooms and large circular booths completely closed in on three sides. A curtain could be drawn if diners wanted privacy. During the school year, reservations were a must. Once school got out, business dropped by half. Getting a table wouldn't be difficult.

The hostess escorted us to a booth and gave us menus. Kiersten had been there before, but Erin and I had not. A high school kid delivered a basket of warm bread, a small bowl of butter pats and a decanter of seasoned olive oil, then returned to pour water for us. While we were still looking at the menu, a wine steward arrived and gave me the wine list. He left us, saying he would return after we ordered dinner.

Our waitress, Antonia, was a tall, middle-aged woman with a mass of jet-black hair. She had a slight Italian accent. She was strikingly attractive, graceful, and elegant. We all ordered appetizers because the menu indicated they were single portions. Kiersten ordered veal saltimbocca, Erin ordered Linguine Aglio y Olio with clams and mussels. I ordered Osso Bucco. After taking our orders, the waitress left us and stopped by the wine steward's station and went over our order. He came by and made several recommendations. Erin ordered the house Chardonnay. Kiersten and I split a bottle of the recommended Chianti.

I was seated in the booth between Erin and Kiersten. Kiersten told us to be prepared for a long, leisurely meal. Al Conte's cooked everything to order. When I saw Kiersten wink at Erin, I knew something was up. Kiersten distracted me by rubbing her hand on the inside of my thigh, but I still felt Erin wriggle on the bench next to me. Erin ran her hand slowly up the inside of my other thigh. Then she took my hand and pulled it under the table. She placed my hand on her thigh and guided it up her leg.

She took her hand away from mine and whispered, 'Keep going, don't be shy.' She was looking into my eyes, smiling at me like I was the love of her life.

I slowly slid my hand up Erin's inner thigh. I wasn't surprised by what I found. Erin had raised her skirt when I felt her wriggling on the bench next to me. When my hand could go no further, it bumped up against soft, warm skin and soft hair. Erin spread her legs apart, put a hand on my arm and squeezed. Kiersten, kept rubbing my thigh, stopping just short of the erection she raised.

Directly across from us was the restaurant bar. Two twenty-something bartenders were working. A woman worked the service bar, making drinks for the wait staff. A man tended to patrons seated at the bar. He had ten or twelve customers, who sat with their backs to us. Both went through the motions of looking busy between orders. Washing glasses. Wiping down the bar. Cutting fruit.

Erin pushed my hand into her groin. I probed gently until I could get a finger between her labia. I moved slowly, carefully sliding my finger up and down between the warm damp folds. When I reached Erin's clit, she drew in a sharp breath. Kiersten's hand had been moving slowly up and down my inner thigh. When she heard Erin's gasp, Kiersten moved her hand up and grasped the bulge formed by my erection.

I turned away from Erin's smile and looked over at Kiersten. Her eyes were smoldering. She leaned toward me and kissed me, just brushing her lips to mine. Erin put a hand on top of mine and guided my finger inside her. It easily slid through her slick, hot opening. Erin gasped as the finger penetrated her. She began moving my hand like it was a dildo, slowly moving it in and out.

'Kiersten, do you know the bartender?' Erin asked quietly. 'He's staring in our direction.'

Kiersten and I both surreptitiously looked across the room. The male bartender was standing at the end of the bar, a towel and glass in his hands. Motionless. His mouth agape. Kiersten and I looked back at each other. There was no doubt the bartender was watching what was happening under the table.

'I've never seen him before,' Kiersten said quietly. 'Why?'

Erin only giggled softly in response. She manipulated my hand to straighten a second finger. She guided my two fingers into herself very slowly. I heard her moan softly. My fingers made a soft squishing noise as they slipped past her labia.

'Kiersten, give Dennis a real kiss. Let's give the bartender something to fantasize about when he goes home tonight.' Erin whispered.

Kiersten grasped my head and pulled me into a hard, passionate kiss. Her tongue pushed its way into my mouth and sparred with mine. Erin pulled my fingers out of her vagina and guided my hand to her mouth. Her lips closed around my fingertips. She slowly guided my fingers deeper into her mouth, her tongue swirling around them. Then she slowly withdrew them, then guided my hand back below the table toward her groin.

'Okay Kiersten. That's enough for now,' Erin whispered.

Kiersten broke the kiss. We returned to just looking at each other, exchanging few words. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see male bartender. He looked stunned. He still stood motionless, mouth still agape in disbelief. His reverie was broken when a male patron a few seats away called for another drink. The bartender turned and walked a couple of steps, retrieved a beer and set in front of the customer. He walked a few more steps toward the computer terminal to record the drink on the customer's tab.

The woman bartender was already at the terminal. I could see the male bartender talking to her but couldn't hear what he was saying. The woman's head snapped in his direction. She looked down, apparently at what I guessed was an erection. Her head snapped back up to look him in the eyes. She stepped back from the terminal and walked up the bar toward the man's work station. While he did some data entry at the terminal, the woman reached under the bar to retrieve something under it. It was obvious she had done all this to get a look at what we were doing.

Erin had somehow anticipated all this. While the bartenders were talking, she had put my hand on the table, put her knees together and pulled down her skirt. When the woman looked in our direction, she saw three people sitting together, talking and patiently awaiting their meals. She carried two beer glasses back to her work station and set them on top of the bar then retrieved two bottles of beer from under the bar, setting them next to the glasses.

When she was done. She turned to her colleague and spoke. I couldn't hear her either, but one word she said was easy to make out. Asshole.

The male bartender returned to the other end of the bar looking humiliated. Erin was talking to me when she caught him looking directly at her. She turned away from me and blew him a kiss, then returned her attention to me. He looked like he had been kicked in the nuts.

The rest of our dinner was uneventful. The food was great. The service outstanding. Our conversation enjoyable. When we all declined dessert, the waitress went to tabulate the bill and returned with it shortly. I reached for the folder, but Erin snatched it away.

'My treat tonight,' Erin said giddily. Kiersten and I protested but lost the argument when Erin held the folder until Antonia returned for it. She even refused to allow me to leave the tip.

Once Erin got her card back and filled in the tip, we got up to leave. I followed behind as we made our way to the door. I caught the bartender watching us as we made our way past the bar. He made eye contact with me and smiled. He gave me a thumbs up when he knew my dinner companions wouldn't see. I nodded and smiled back at him.

Once outside, Erin began laughing. Kiersten shook her head in disbelief.

'I can't believe you did that, Erin,' Kiersten laughed. 'I feel sorry for him.'

'Are you kidding? I made his night. For as long as he lives, he'll remember the woman using her dinner companion's hand to finger fuck herself while another woman kissed him passionately.

'He gave me a smile and a thumbs-up as we were leaving,' I told them.

'Maybe I shouldn't feel sorry for him,' Kiersten giggled.

'He was just acknowledging someone who was living every guy's fantasy,' I laughed.

'I definitely don't feel sorry for him,' Kiersten added with a smile.

When we got to Erin's car, she tossed the keys to me. 'Do you mind driving, Dennis?' she asked.

'Not at all.' I responded.

I opened the doors and held them for the ladies. Erin got into the back and slid to the center of the bench seat. Kiersten got in the front passenger seat.

Before I had even started the car, Erin had her skirt up. 'I hope you don't mind if I get started. The thing with the bartender has me pretty hot.' Erin managed to rub herself to two orgasms before we got back to Kiersten's.

By the time we got halfway home, the sounds coming from the back seat had Kiersten and I nearly as worked up as Erin. Kiersten was squirming in the seat next to me, pressing her fingers into her groin, trying to quell the sensations. My erection was uncomfortably trapped. No amount of adjustment provided comfort. From previous experience, I knew Erin was just getting started.