Unicorn Ch. 01

It made Lauren gush on the sheet anyway, as brief and as soft as it was.

"Let's go shopping," Mrs. Preston exclaimed. She turned and walked toward her clothes and left Lauren with a sopping ache between her legs. She felt warm and frothy and wondered if her clit wouldn't rub inside her panties all afternoon. "What are you, a size four? Am I right?"

As the dark haired woman dressed, Lauren studied the woman's hips and her crack. Her bottom was lean and muscled, not like the fleshy bouncing roundness that Lauren had. She had to hurry but her eyes were too busy studying, trying to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Preston's asshole.

It was too late, the blue panties were on and in place.

"Just about," Lauren said, trying to sound casual, like she wasn't dying inside.

***

Mrs. Preston had an eye for clothes and Lauren was grateful. When they first arrived on the second floor of Neiman Marcus, they were bombarded with saleswomen. Mrs. Preston put out her hand with a flash of that hunk of diamond. It almost seemed to be a protective gesture. "She's picking out some things for this evening. What we need is one of the private dressing rooms in the back and a bottle of Pinot Grigio."

An older, heavyset woman stared at Lauren over the top of her glasses. She seemed to disapprove of everything that Lauren was in that glance. Too poor, too disheveled, too young to be drinking wine. "Right away ma'am," was what she said out loud and skulked away.

Just like a queen, in moments they had everything that Mrs. Preston commanded. They were escorted into a dressing room. This wasn't a place to stand under fluorescent lights and squeeze a glimpse at a skinny mirror. So far, those were the only kinds of dressing rooms that Lauren had ever been in. This room was larger than Lauren's bedroom and had a chandelier in the center. There were two pink chaise lounges, one each on opposite sides of the space. There were mirrors everywhere you turned and probably for the first time ever in her life, Lauren had a full 360 degree look at herself.

"This hair," Mrs. Preston said as she came up behind Lauren. The dark haired woman ran her fingers through Lauren's hair. Lauren had kept it in a sloppy bun for the massage but had pulled out the rubber band in the car. The massage oil and the humidity had worked its way into her curls and they hung heavy, almost in ringlets, almost down to her ass. Lauren's hair was naturally dirty blonde up top and almost white at the tips. "You're like a wood nymph with that hair," Mrs. Preston murmured. "Twirl around?" she asked and Lauren wondered if the woman could tell that she did that all the time, just when no one was looking.

She twirled and her hair circled her hips and cascaded back to the tops of her cheeks when she stopped. Lauren giggled and blushed, "Should I put it up for dinner?" She felt a deep need to please Mrs. Preston, her queen. In fact, her panties were slick and almost soaked through to her jeans at the thought that Mrs. Preston found her beautiful.

The woman gave her a knowing smile and her dark eyes gleamed. "Personally, I don't think you should ever wear your hair any other way. Just loose and wild and free," her voice was a husky, bedroom voice and Lauren wondered if Mrs. Preston wasn't talking about something other than her hair.

The woman brought the wine and poured two glasses and handed the first to Mrs. Preston. She tasted and hummed and licked the shining droplet from her lower lip. Mrs. Preston smiled and said, "That's just what we need." As the woman poured Lauren a glass with her disapproving stare, Mrs. Preston, the queen, added, "Lauren is going to look around but bring out some new dresses as well. We'll need a rack of size four's and another of two's please."

"Right away," the woman said with a nod. Like a slave should, Lauren couldn't help but think. The concubine fantasy had never been fleshed out like this and every detail, no matter how minute, seemed to send a flutter between her legs.

If Mrs. Preston commanded Lauren, here in the dressing room, here as she lay back on one of the chaise lounges, Lauren couldn't stop herself. Here with her blue panties down around one ankle, Lauren would melt and look up at the woman in sheer gratitude.

"What were you thinking for a dress?" Mrs. Preston asked Lauren's reflection. She opened the door and stood back, waiting. The dark haired woman's smile was benevolent and her gesture was, "I've brought you the world."

Lauren walked out and took a quick sip of wine as she checked the front and back of a dress. Too frilly. It was almost like a prom dress and tonight she wanted to be grown up. Another sip of wine and another display; the dress was awfully short. Lauren was sure that she'd wonder if her ass was covered all night. She wanted to look sexy but not slutty, even if she felt both.

Lauren continued to walk and look at the dresses. She didn't like the taste of Pinot Grigio, she decided by the time her glass was half empty but she had continued sipping because it seemed to calm her nerves.

This one had possibilities, Lauren thought and grabbed the handle of the hanger. There weren't even price tags on anything. She knew that it was the kind of place that expected that you didn't need to know those things. She brought the dress back for Mrs. Preston to inspect.

"Oh, it's a Jovani," she nodded with approval. "Good eye," her eyebrows went up, "simple and cinched at the waist. Simple is always best "

"What should I do?" Lauren whispered. She hoped that Mrs. Preston would command her like the concubine she was. Or wanted to be.

"Try it on," Mrs. Preston laughed wickedly and took her glass. "It's just us girls."

Just us girls, Lauren nodded and felt something electric prickle down her spine. Mrs. Preston took the glass and set it on the small table next to one chaise. She took a seat and lay the dress carefully over the back of the couch and Lauren would have to approach her naked in order to retrieve it.

She pulled her tee shirt off again and unbuttoned her jeans. Mrs. Preston wasn't even pretending to politely look away. The dark haired woman's eyes were riveted on Lauren's breasts. Once her jeans were off, Lauren scooted them away with her toes.

"You should take off your underwear too," Mrs. Preston whispered. "You don't want panty lines in this."

The queen wanted her naked. Lauren could hardly breathe and part of her wanted to grab herself just to make sure this was real. This was happening. She slid her panties to the floor and boldly approached Mrs. Preston in nothing but her birthday suit.

The dark haired woman sighed, "Look at you, look at you. Exquisite fairy princess," she murmured. Mrs. Preston placed her fingertips delicately on Lauren's bare hips "And you're trembling."

She was. Her whole body felt like a new, separate current ran beneath her skin.

"Such sweet, young breasts," Mrs. Preston's breath tantalized Lauren's skin as she looked up and let her fingers skim from hip to the tips of Lauren's nipples.

Lauren made a noise that sounded like she was choking as she watched Mrs. Preston circled both of her buds. "Responsive and so sensitive," she continued with her assessment and Lauren vibrated. "Turn around for me," Mrs. Preston didn't ask, she gave directions. Lauren followed them perfectly.

"This round, beautiful bottom," Mrs. Preston sighed and let her fingers sink into the underneath side of Lauren's cheeks. "So perfect and juicy," Mrs. Preston wiggled her cheeks and emitted a purr. "I'm afraid that my husband will try to monopolize this bottom." The woman let out a long, slow sigh as if she were imagining all of the possibilities and added, "given the opportunity anyway."

Lauren stood still, not wanting to breathe, not wanting to break the spell of whatever this was.

"Turn back for me," Mrs. Preston told her and Lauren felt it. The telltale dribble of her juices on her inner thigh as she did what the queen commanded.

"Bare," was all she said as Mrs. Preston ran her finger along Lauren's crevice. She barely touched Lauren but it was enough, more than enough as she outlined Lauren's labia. God, if she fingered Lauren's aching pussy right here in the dressing room, she'd cum so hard. Lauren prepared to press her hands over her mouth to hold back the squeal. "Bare and sweet. My god, you look like a little cherub between your legs," Mrs. Preston passed her finger slowly over Lauren's slit. "Now tell me something, Lauren. How many women have you made love with?"

Well, fuck, it was time to spill the beans. "None. Mrs. Preston," Lauren whispered and couldn't stop her moan that came from somewhere deep down, something untouched and raw and needy.

"I didn't think so," Mrs. Preston increased the tempo. Lauren's lips were hot and greedy and far too open to keep any secrets. "My little virgin is dripping," Mrs. Preston murmured and Lauren tilted her head back and looked up at the light and hoped that she wouldn't fall.

Mrs. Preston wasn't a virgin and her knowing fingertip found Lauren's clitoris. It was hard as a bead and throbbed for the queen's touch. Lauren's thighs trembled as she looked Mrs. Preston in the eye and gave herself over entirely.

There was a knock on the door and the disapproving older woman croaked, "I'm leaving the two dress racks here for you."

As quickly as it had begun, Mrs. Preston stopped fondling Lauren. She slid her hand back and contemplated her fingers. She bowed her head and inhaled Lauren's scent and smiled hungrily at Lauren. She licked her fingers and closed her eyes as if she had a secret fantasy that Lauren was the center of and she had to taste this in her hidden world.

After she held her fingers in her mouth for a moment, she released them and came back to the world with a wry smile. "Just as well, I guess. They'd definitely hear us if I put you on this couch."

They would and Lauren's cheeks flamed with the thoughts of it all coming true.

"Just one thing," Mrs. Preston's dark eyes flashed with something mischievous.

"Yes, Mrs. Preston?" Lauren froze in place and pressed her thighs together. She wondered what it would feel like to cum on the plush chaise fabric.

"Two things," she murmured and slid her fingers down the front of her yoga pants. Lauren watched and thought her fingers must be inside her panties. She must be touching that wild, black field of dripping hair. She brought her fingers out and up to Lauren's face. Lauren opened her lips but paused, it seemed like something she needed permission for. "Taste me," Mrs. Preston breathed the words and Lauren hummed as her tongue wrapped around her two fingers and sucked her inside.

She tasted sweet and earthy and musky and savory. She was creamy and her juice lingered on Lauren's tongue. The scent of Mrs. Preston was heat and sex and sticky panties and need. Lauren felt the urge to fall to her knees. She needed to suck. She needed to learn the scent of a woman and the curve of her wet, slippery places and the taste of her longing.

"Second, please call me Sharon," she grinned, "although I have to admit that you in a catholic schoolgirl uniform, licking me while you call me Mrs. Preston is kinky as fuck."

They both giggled.

"Seriously though, if we're going to be lovers," Mrs. Preston's heated whisper suggested all of the longing in that sentence, "call me Sharon."

The dress was lace over flesh colored fabric. It seemed to hint of nakedness but she was fully clothed. The lace was a dusty blue, like the blue along the horizon just before sunset. It had three quarter sleeves and a V neckline in front and in back. Once Lauren had the dress on Mrs. Preston nodded, "That's it. You hit it out of the park. It's a classic."

Lauren blushed and twirled and basked in the glory of her praise.

Mrs. Preston clasped Lauren in her arms and looked at her in the mirror with her face on Lauren's shoulder. "You look like a young Bridgette Bardot, except Bridgette would be jealous of your ass." She shook her head. "What you need is a really fabulous pair of shoes. What are you, a nine?"

It was like Mrs. Preston had known her all along.

***

Mr. Preston was equally easy to pick out. He sat at the bar, in the corner seat so that he could see the street. He was dark haired and dark complected. He looked like he could be a gypsy or a sheik. Lauren immediately responded to that thought in her ladylike, lacy dress with a very unladylike thought. He had streaks of gray in his hair and under his eyes were dark circles. He was handsome but careworn. His handshake was gentle and his hands were warm and large and engulfed hers completely. "Lauren, my goodness it's nice to meet you," the smile creased his face in the usual places and it seemed genuine.

"It's nice to meet you too," she nodded and bit her bottom lip and then reminded herself to stop.

Dinner was an otherworldly experience. There was always at least one staff person who hovered over the table. Lauren didn't understand much of the conversation about ingredients and how things were served. She preferred to fade in and out of her concubine fantasy. It was easy to imagine that this was a feast laden table for the king and after which, her body was the entertainment.

"Lauren, what's your favorite restaurant so far?" Mr. Preston wanted to know. He had a habit of leaning in whenever he addressed her. He would always place his colossal, beefy hand over hers. Lauren had been seated between the Prestons and she wondered if it weren't symbolic. Mr. Preston peered into her eyes as he waited for her to answer and Lauren felt him undressing her at the table, right in front of his wife.

Who rules her when there are two of them? Lauren wondered and simmered in her lace dress.

"I don't know," Lauren shrugged. She popped an exquisite bite of something that she couldn't pronounce into her mouth.

"Don't worry," Mrs. Preston touched Lauren's thigh under the table. The queen had also bought a dress at Neiman Marcus. She had found it on the rack of size two's and it was almost exactly the color of the Red Zinfandel that they drank now. Her black hair was loose and ran over her bare, pale shoulders. Mrs. Preston's scent this evening was warmer and closer to the surface but Lauren was certain that she could still smell the woman's pussy underneath. "Mark comes from money so he grew up eating like this," the dark haired woman gestured to the space around them. "But I'm from the wrong side of the tracks so I understand."

Mr. Preston leaned in and touched his wife's chin with an indulgent smile. "Darling, Northbrook is hardly the wrong side of the tracks."

"You know what I mean though, Mark. She's new. She's a blank page."

Mr. Preston had a flush of warmth on his face and it wasn't the wine or the food. It was his wife's words and the implication. Lauren felt the electricity crackle between them. Yes, a blank page, no Michelin star restaurants, no designer dresses. She was wearing her first pair of Monolos and this was her very first threesome. Or hopefully anyway. Lauren buzzed between her legs and suddenly they all seemed to be able to feel it.

Mr. Preston closed his fingers around Lauren's hand and raised her fingers to his lips. "Well then, let's have a glorious time sharing all of the firsts together, shall we?" His eyebrows went up and at that moment, Lauren knew that was the expression that he'd have on his face right before he fucked her. Right before he impaled her on his cock and she didn't have to see it to know that he was larger than either of the two dicks that she'd seen in real life.

"Yes, let's," Mrs. Preston's hand lingered on her thigh once again and the three of them were close enough to kiss. That's what they would do, wasn't it? Lauren felt the warm puddle at the center of the new Agent Provocateur panties Mrs. Preston had purchased for her. They would both kiss her and she'd feel Mrs. Preston's tongue on her upper lip and then Mr. Preston's teeth nibbling her lower lip. They'd kiss each other and then Mr. Preston would watch as the two women in his bed ravished each other. At least he'd watch in the beginning.

She wasn't sure how much more she could eat.

Once they were in the backseat of the car, Lauren felt almost dizzy. It wasn't the wine or even the cognac afterward, although she definitely could have done without the liquor. It was the pheromones between them. The longing was the most intense, instant high she'd ever felt. Mrs. Preston put her left arm around Lauren and pressed her breasts into Lauren's arm as she murmured, "You're absolutely perfect in this dress. Isn't she, Mark? She's stunning."

Mr. Preston rested his heavy right forearm on Lauren's lap and from the weight of him, Lauren was fairly certain that she could imagine him naked. Mr. Preston would be stocky. He would be solid under soft, he would be wide and heavy and muscular under a comforting layer of softness around his middle. A man's man, she thought as his proximity sent a new wave of longing through her hips. "Stunning," he agreed and folded her fingers through his. "So tell me something, Lauren," he said with a sigh as he looked her over. "Have you ever smoked pot?"

That made her giggle. At her age, pot was easy to get. Without adults around to buy her alcohol, drinking was almost impossible. Lauren had never enjoyed the sensation of being drunk anyway. Being high was blissful though. "Yes, I have," she admitted.

"Don't encourage him," Mrs. Preston said as she tried to be serious and failed completely as she chuckled. "If Mark wasn't such a Type A personality, we'd probably live in the sticks and he'd be stoned and just paint all day."

"And you'd be going nuts because there'd be nothing to do," he laughed fiendishly. "Lauren, hopefully you'll get to know my wife soon enough and you'll realize that the only time she ever really relaxes is when," the dark haired man leaned in and whispered, "she's just cum."

The word hung there in the air between them and they all seemed to waft in the fantasy. Was it even just her fantasy anymore or was it conjoined? Lauren wondered if they could feel it, the edges of it creeping up on them. The place where she gave herself over, their slave, their plaything, their lover. Their concubine.

"Well this is perfect timing," Mrs. Preston told him with a pat of her hand. There was the brush of her fingers adorned with the king's jewels, along the hand that Mr. Preston touched Lauren with. Two intense and intensely different sensations collided and rolled down Lauren's body.

They had come to a stop in front of the black and glass tower that glittered in the lights of Navy Pier. Lake Point Tower was the only skyscraper east of Lake Shore Drive and that was all Lauren knew about it until she'd asked her father the other day.

His reply, "Big money. But beautiful if you like that kind of stuff." Mr. McCullum had shrugged. All of her life, Lauren had the distinct impression that he really did like the finer things in life and he was prematurely aged and dried up from the bitterness of not having them.

The Prestons sailed past the concierge with a hearty, "Evening Kenny." They commanded the space and they swept Lauren along with them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Preston," Kenny nodded and gave them a toothy smile.

The Prestons lived on the twenty second floor and Lauren's ears popped in the elevator as it rocketed up to the correct level. Mr. Preston pressed the key code into the lock and once it clicked open, he waved them inside. "Voila, home sweet home."

Home sweet home had floor to ceiling windows that looked out at Lake Michigan. Lauren couldn't help but gasp. The living room was lined with gray suede sectionals that were covered in a multitude of different colored, velvet pillows. The low lights created shadows on the walls and cast the sofas in a warm glow. Well, fuck, even the living room seemed like something out of her harem girl fantasy.