Unicorn Ch. 01

**Author's Note: Everyone in this story is over 18.**

May

"So you're not going to be here for Memorial Day?" her mother clucked around Lauren, exactly like the mother hen that she was. With six children, Mrs. McCullum was constantly clucking and surveying and scolding and pushing.

"No, I said I wasn't going to be here tonight but today's only Saturday."

Lauren was used to her mother being scatterbrained. As the oldest of the six kids, she had only had her mother's undivided attention for about a year, just long enough for Mrs. McCullum to squeeze out her younger brother Josh.

"Oh, okay honey. Are you going somewhere with Aiden?"

Having so many other kids actually worked in Lauren's favor because she was conveniently forgotten about. Aiden was the boyfriend from almost a year ago, or at least that's what she'd called him when he met the McCullums. The boyfriend that had really only lasted about two months but Lauren had used him as her cover story for much longer. "Not sure," she kissed her mother on the forehead and pirouetted out of reach before her mother could hug her. "Gotta go, Mom. Later dude," she punched her next younger brother, Dave, in the bicep as she passed.

"Skank," he muttered to her before letting out a belch that reeked of pizza.

"Dickbreath," Lauren snarled back, as if they weren't really best buddies.

Her mother started, "Lauren, that's disgusting." The rest of the speech was lost on her but she'd memorized it long ago. It was part of the whole, "you're the oldest and supposed to set an example" speech that Lauren had been listening to since she was too young to remember. Lauren was already in the Toyota Corolla and almost at the end of the driveway and she was sure that her mother was probably only halfway through the spiel.

It was better to be under the radar.

Lauren put on her sunglasses and checked the rear view before shifting into drive. She wanted to look nice, but not like she was trying, especially not as she walked past her mother and brothers. She had taken the whole example thing to heart; which was why she was such a liar now.

She slammed her foot on the gas of the Corolla. As of yesterday, it was officially one year older than her. She had turned 19 and the car had turned twenty. Lauren had wanted to ask her parents for a new car for her birthday; not new, as in shiny, brand new from the dealership. Her father would have laughed right in her face if she had made that request. No, she meant "McCullum new", which meant maybe only ten years old. Maybe twelve.

But they had forgotten her birthday altogether though and Lauren was also used to that. It was around Memorial Day weekend and that meant that there were graduations and cookouts to plan. They had forgotten before and they would forget again. Besides, she didn't need anyone paying attention to her right now. If anyone had really asked her, like really quizzed her, Lauren wasn't sure that she'd be able to keep it to herself.

She was going to meet them.

Finally, Lauren was going to meet the Prestons. Just from their text messages, she could tell that the Prestons were the exact opposite of the McCullums in every way that counted. They were maybe, just maybe, she had her fingers crossed, all of Lauren's dreams come true.

***

Mrs. Preston was easy to pick out in the lobby of the spa. She looked exactly like the photos that she'd sent. In her pictures, her long, black hair was straight and loose and shone in the light. It was casual in a perfect way that suggested it had been professionally done. Today, Mrs. Preston's hair was slicked back into a neat ponytail. Even in her yoga pants and tunic, she looked expensive and impeccable and so did everyone else. Lauren immediately wished she had worn something better when she stepped inside Elizabeth Arden.

"Lauren," Mrs. Preston greeted her by the front desk with open arms. God, okay, it was a hug then. Even though Lauren really didn't hug, when she considered the rest of it, a hug was a good place to start. Mrs. Preston even smelled rich. Lauren had been poor her whole life and she knew that rich had a definite scent. "I'm so glad you could come. I was a little worried that you had changed your mind."

"No, not at all," Lauren assured her. "It just took me forever to find parking." Lauren was on Michigan Avenue and there was no explaining how far away from reality it was. The magnificent mile was a million miles away from the sticks and everything else she knew. Even though the spa was supposed to be relaxing, she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin. Lauren's hands had gotten sweatier and sweatier as she'd circled the block again and again.

"Here? You poor thing," Mrs. Preston took her by the arm. Her fingers were soft and sent a wave of something immediate through Lauren's body. "It completely slipped my mind to tell you to valet."

Valet cost like a million dollars though and Lauren felt her stomach lurch. "It's okay, it's a beautiful day to walk," she murmured.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Preston flicked her hand as if to say that money grew on trees. "Besides, we're headed to Neiman Marcus after," Mrs. Preston flagged down a small woman in a black shirt. "Give me your keys," she told Lauren in a tone that said there were no other options than to follow directions. There was Mrs. Preston's wedding ring, it flashed and shimmered on her ring finger. It looked heavy, like something royalty would wear.

Lauren did as she was told.

"She's going to valet too," the dark haired woman said with a smile. "Put everything on my card."

Moments later, another employee walked them down a dimly lit corridor. Everything smelled of vanilla. The sounds of trickling water and the occasional call of a bird seemed to follow them everywhere they went, as if they were in the jungle. The woman opened the door for them and led them inside a candlelit room. "Please undress to your level of comfort and lie face down on the tables. Your massage therapists will be with you in a few minutes."

She closed the door behind her quietly and Lauren thought, well fuck.

They'd talked an awful lot about getting undressed. The text messages had been explicit almost right out of the gate. Now it was time to nut up or shut up, like Josh would say. The thing was, for all of their talk, Lauren had never been with a woman. Never even a little bit.

Mrs. Preston didn't seem to have her hang ups though. She had already reached her arms up overhead and pulled the tunic up. "So is this your first couples massage?" she asked from inside the shirt.

Lauren was too busy staring at Mrs. Preston's sheer, blue lace bra to answer. The dark haired woman had perfectly round breasts. They were high on her chest and heavy and even though the room was quite warm, Mrs. Preston's nipples were hard and aroused. She had two small, deep red stones. Even under the fabric, Lauren knew that they were the color of roses in bloom. "Yes, it's my first," she murmured. First any kind of massage, first everything and she finally yanked her green tee shirt overhead plopped it on the floor.

Mrs. Preston openly stared at Lauren, she didn't seem to have a hang up about that either. The woman's dark eyes were covetous and glittered in the candlelight as she took in Lauren's bareness. Lauren rarely wore a bra but today she kind of wished she had. It would have given her a few more moments before totally naked happened.

Mrs. Preston just said, "Lovely." Lauren felt her cheeks get hot and the accompanying, warm gush in the center of her panties. The dark haired woman reached behind her and unhooked her brassiere. Lauren watched as the underwire released her and her breasts sank down, only maybe an inch.

Mrs. Preston sure was tight and toned. She looked athletic and purposeful and lean and ready to spring. Lauren noticed that her abs were more defined than Lauren's. She remembered seeing her mother half undressed and the loose rolls around her waist. Mrs. McCullum was only a few years older than Mrs. Preston but of course, there were those six pregnancies in between. "You're in really good shape," Lauren said. It was too loud and came blurting out. She was immediately embarrassed as busied herself with scooting out of her Keds.

Mrs. Preston smiled, "Oh my god, you're kidding right? I mean I work out like a fiend but my metabolism?" Mrs. Preston whistled and it was a cartoon noise; the piano that crashed down on the coyote's unsuspecting head. She already had the yoga pants halfway down her almost straight hips. "Enjoy being young, that's all I can say."

That's exactly what she was going to do, Lauren thought, as she eyed Mrs. Preston almost hungrily. The dark haired woman only had on the matching panties to her bra. Lauren saw the dark triangle of her pubic hair through the fabric and she exhaled deeply. She had never seen a full bush, not in real life anyway. In fact, Lauren never even thought about pussies with hair.

It made her feel swollen and obvious in her panties and Lauren didn't know why. Her labia were heavy and dewy and sensitive. If Mrs. Preston touched her right now, Lauren wondered if she wouldn't drip down her thigh.

Lauren unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them over her hips while Mrs. Preston took down the panties. She showed Lauren her dark, gleaming ringlets of soft, secret hair. Now there was a new scent that overpowered the woman's subtle, rich perfume and Lauren knew it even if it was unfamiliar.

Mrs. Preston was wet. That was the scent that would greet Lauren if she parted Mrs. Preston's thighs and sealed their deal with a kiss.

There was a knock on the door and someone asked, "Are you ladies ready?"

"Hurry," Mrs. Preston told Lauren and giggled. She hopped up onto the massage table and nestled down under the sheet.

"Almost," Lauren called out. This was ridiculous, she thought. Lauren was the oldest of six kids. She was a person who had shared a bathroom with seven other people her whole life. She definitely wasn't modest. Mrs. Preston had certainly seen plenty of other women naked. Lauren skimmed off the jeans and tugged down her panties quickly. She lay face down just like Mrs. Preston and announced, "Ready."

"So your parents still didn't remember your birthday?" Mrs. Preston asked, her voice muffled by the massage table.

"No, not yet," Lauren told her as she closed her eyes.

"Mark and I are so happy that we get to take you somewhere special," Mrs. Preston said but it seemed far away as the hands and the heat entered Lauren's body. Yes, taking her to Alinea for dinner. Lauren didn't know anything about fancy restaurants but she had Googled it and it was supposed to be impossible to get into. Lauren had said regretfully that she didn't have anything to wear to a place like that and the Prestons had insisted that she should get a dress and shoes before dinner. Their treat. Mrs. Preston had suggested that first, they go for a massage to relax. Like shopping was stressful.

It was all the lead up to getting to know the Prestons much more intimately.

***

Lauren wouldn't call it sleeping, but with the sounds of the waterfall in the background, she drifted off into her recurring daydream. The fruity, rich scent of the oil and the warmth that radiated from the table slipped over Lauren as if she'd been drugged. The hands; soft, feminine hands; strong, knowing hands kneaded her flesh and brought a shiver of delight to every inch of her young body.

It was the preparation. Lauren let the hands take her away to the fantasy. It was the bath and they were there to prepare her. They were there to open her and make her ripe and ready. The hands stirred the desire that she'd kept tucked away all this time.

Lauren had fallen in love with the idea of being a harem girl. Ever since she had first heard of Arabian Nights, she was captivated by the thought of being a concubine. She wanted nothing more than to hold a man under her spell and to belong to the sultan. In her fantasy, Lauren was a woman made for pleasure, kept hidden away in secret, her beauty guarded by eunuchs. She would only be brought to the king after she had been bathed and oiled and dressed and adorned by slaves.

It hadn't been that long ago that Lauren had begun to masturbate to that fantasy. It had become multifaceted and if she were to confess to anyone, she could touch herself for hours as she went over the most minute detail.

Living among women, she imagined that the concubines must learn their sexual arts in the caress of other women. Lauren luxuriated in the sensation of the woman who rubbed her hips at the moment. Lauren was somewhere between masturbation and sleep and as relaxed as she was, she was vividly aware of the masseuse's body. The woman's large, bell shaped breasts pushed into Lauren's arm as she kneaded her cheeks. The brush of the towel beneath Lauren's lower lips was just enough friction to make her push and feel her clitoris pulse. If only the masseuse was naked, like in her harem fantasy. The woman should be naked and wet herself. Her heavy breasts would drag back and forth over Lauren's slippery skin as she readied the concubine for a night of pleasure. If only the masseuse would dip her fingers and let them linger between Lauren's hot, swollen lips.

A concubine should always be wet, or at least that's what Lauren said to herself under her covers. She knew that she could cum so easily right now. On her belly like this, it was all sensation. Just the touch of a woman. No guilt, nothing but rubbing herself, jutting her hips and vibrating on the lovely fingers. Once she had poured her sweet cream into the masseuse's palm, Lauren would melt into the table with her thighs open wide. She imagined feeling the woman rub all of her orgasm into her skin so she smelled of fruity, luscious sex.

"Is that pressure good?" the woman asked, in a warm whisper that caressed Lauren's ear. Every hair on her neck stood at attention as she thought about the woman moving her hands to Lauren's inner thighs

"Yes," she whispered back and her body pushed her bottom up. It wasn't a thought, it was an instinct, an invitation. Please slave, caress me, worship me, pleasure my divinity.

It was the bath scenario that had started Lauren down this path, she was fairly certain. The thought of being naked and adored and teased by women was something that made Lauren quiver from head to toe. The thought that she'd be delivered, enslaved and on the cusp of uncontrollable delight, to a man who owned her never failed to bring her to an explosive orgasm. It was almost more than she could bear.

The fantasy had grown and evolved. This year when she'd gone to college, Lauren finally heard the word that made her heart race and her nipples sing. It was the only word that described her heart's desire

Threesome.

It had evolved to this point. Almost two weeks ago, Lauren had responded to the Prestons discreet online ad. "Seeking our unicorn for the summer. Successful middle aged, married, white couple seeking our third. Please be discreet, drug, disease and drama free."

The four D's. Lauren had answered and she and Mrs. Preston began a text conversation. Initially, Lauren had blushed and giggled over the dialogue but then, it got to the point where she had to touch herself. She couldn't help it, there was no stopping it. The Prestons wanted Lauren to spend the summer with them in Lake Geneva. They had a boat and a house on the lake. It even had a pool. They would shop and dine and swim. Mrs. Preston had assured her that Mr. Preston came in mostly on weekends. The dark haired woman assured her that it would be a "fuck marathon" when her husband was home. Otherwise, it would be "just us girls." She had added that part with the wink emoji that seemed to suggest that they hardly needed a man around in order to have fun.

It was the harem fantasy all right. Living with a woman, a woman experienced in the art of seduction. Surely Mrs. Preston knew the language of a young girl's body. Her daydreams had become so lascivious. Lauren pictured herself bare and tangled with Mrs. Preston, naked flesh as far as the eye could see.

Then came Mr. Preston. He was all dark eyes and demanding mouth and flexing, muscular arms that as he pulled Lauren to the center of the king sized mattress.

She was a unicorn. It was the first time she had heard the term and Lauren thought it was the most appropriate word for what her dream scenario was. Magic.

The masseuse tapped Lauren, prompting her to roll over. As she eased onto her back, she heard Mrs. Preston's noises of pleasure. It was a gasp and then a low whimper and Lauren imagined how wet she must be. Mrs. Preston, with her soft, furry pussy. It was so natural and erotic like that, covered in thick, lush hair. There was something mysterious about hiding it away like that and all she wanted was to see the dark haired woman. Lauren imagined the feel of it on her fingers as Mrs. Preston taught her how to touch a pussy that wasn't her own.

Lauren felt vulnerable like this, on display. On her back it was easy for the masseuse to see her tipped nipples and maybe even her hard, aching clit. She had never been so horny. All she wanted to do was slide her fingers down under the sheet and touch herself. Lauren wanted to grind and rub herself with her hand. She wanted to cum as she imagined herself, her concubine self, on her knees between Mrs. Preston's legs.

Lauren wanted to lick her pussy.

Lauren could only imagine it so far and she could barely do that. She didn't know anything really at all and even now, even here, she still didn't know. What if they made love with her tonight?

"Okay, Lauren, take your time getting dressed," the masseuse murmured. Her low voice barely shook Lauren from the hazy, almost dreamlike state of sexual fervor she was in. Just a bath slave, a bath slave touching my body. Just here to make me wet for the king. "There's water on the table over there," the woman said.

And with that, both of the masseuses were gone and Lauren was alone with Mrs. Preston, naked.

Mrs. Preston stretched languorously and she looked like a cat, all lean and sleek and elegant. "Oh my god, that was amazing. Was yours good?" she asked as she hopped off the massage table.

Mrs. Preston headed straight for her, naked Mrs. Preston who was still scented of sex. Her black pubic hair shone in the candlelight and she was the queen. Lauren would do anything the woman told her to do. Her posture was even regal. With her breasts proud and her shoulders back, wet and shining, she stopped and placed both hands on Lauren's thighs.

Their breasts touched. Mrs. Preston's small, beaded red nipples grazed Lauren's looser, wrinkled pink ones. Her breasts were a handful, maybe more than a handful and Lauren felt like such a girl with her two bee stings. "Yes, it was good," Lauren whispered, throat parched, she was dry in her mouth because all of the liquid in her body had rushed to her gushing crevice.

"Good," Mrs. Preston placed both hands on Lauren's face. "You remind me of a fairy princess," she said with hidden warmth in her voice. "So young and lovely," Mrs. Preston grasped her, held her close and for a moment, Lauren wondered if the queen wouldn't sample Lauren's mouth right here. She didn't need permission and it would be nothing for her to put Lauren on her knees. Mrs. Preston could push Lauren's mouth into her sex and writhe, with her dripping muff on Lauren's lips. Lauren would lick her lips apart and wet her clitoris with her greedy tongue. She wouldn't have to hold Lauren's head to keep her there but she hoped Mrs. Preston would anyway.

Instead, Mrs. Preston placed a light, friendly kiss on Lauren's mouth. It was quick and easy and could have just been a friendship kiss. It held no helpless longing, no obsession; not like Lauren's would.