You Are What You Eat

"It turns out she's a lesbian."

I do not know why I said it. To all intents and purposes Izabel was a heterosexual who used lesbianism simply as a means of humiliation. I suppose the truth was that I wanted to talk about it, albeit in a peripheral way, to exorcise my demons.

"You don't have a problem with that surely?"

"No, of course not, live and let live."

"Did Mateus not approve?"

"No...I mean.. Look, she came on to me okay?"

"Oh my God! So what happened when you put her straight?"

I hesitated for a fraction of a second as I wondered how to reply but Claire seized on it.

"No!...You didn't!...What was it like?"

She was leaning forward in her seat with the alcohol induced haze in her eyes replaced by a sudden brightness.

"Well, you must know. How was it for you, your first time with a woman?"

The wine had fired me with the boldness to ask the question that I had skirted around so painfully in Seville.

"Me?...Strictly men darling."

"But you must have wondered, fantasized even."

For a second she looked faintly disgusted, and I thought that I had pushed it too far, but then she giggled.

"I couldn't...not to another woman...but you have to suppose that a lesbian would know which buttons to press."

I wanted to know how she would have reacted had she been exposed to Izabel.

"So if a lesbian came in now and offered her services you would give it a try?"

"She would have to be good looking."

She laughed out loud at her own lame joke and was still laughing as she continued.

"Still, where are we going to find one at this time of night? I'll have to use you!"

She was almost crying with laughter as she threw her legs open.

"Come on. Get down here."

Fortunately she was wiping the tears from her eyes and did not notice that I had become transfixed. She was sporting a deep Mediterranean tan and she had eschewed tights leaving me gazing at her bare coltish legs.

For years now Claire had worn her hair in a classy geometric bob cut which strengthened her already strong resemblance to the actress, from the seventies UK detective series, who had become famous for a similar style. I had often wondered if she was a natural blonde and now I knew. She was wearing panties which were as sheer as they were expensive and a neat triangle of light pubic hair could be clearly seen.

As I continued to stare I felt light headed. Somewhere in my mind Claire's mirth became confused with Izabel's mocking laughter and I felt a phantom pain in my jaw. Without thinking I stretched my tongue to reassure myself that the hurt had healed but Claire chose that moment to open her eyes.

I quickly closed my mouth but she had seen. For a mere fraction of a second there was a look of confusion in her eyes but the slightest lift of her head turned it into an enquiry.

With only the tiniest hint of hesitation she slowly dropped her hand to her leg and allowed her thumb to graze the inside of her thigh.

In the past I had seen her seduce men and reduce them to quivering wrecks never thinking that one day I might be on the receiving end. In just a matter of seconds an idea had taken root in her mind and now she was acting upon it.

I tore my eyes away from her legs but only to stop a little higher where, even as I watched, her nipples were straining within the confines of her tight, black, cocktail dress.

My brain was telling me that my destiny was still in my own hands. I could have broken the tension and laughed it off as a joke, knowing that she would have laughed with me, but every passing second drew me more tightly into the web that she was weaving.

She moved her hand, drawing her skirt a little further up her thighs, and I looked down. That dropping of the eyes seemed, somehow, suggestive of submission and, as she picked up on it, I could almost feel the wave of excitement radiating from her.

"Come over here."

Her voice was husky, inviting but it now had an edge of certainty which I found unnerving. In some way I still believed that there might an element of reciprocity but I knew, deep down, that it could not be so.

Her shirt was now rucked up to a degree that could no longer be construed as accidental and, with the tip of her finger, she teased the lacy hem of her panties.

"I want you here, now."

An outsider might, even now, have considered her tone to be playful, especially if she had been addressing herself to a man, but it wormed into my mind almost like a hypnotic suggestion.

I could have risen from my armchair and walked to hers but, in a final admission of defeat, I slid to my knees and shuffled across the gap between us.

She stayed unnaturally still as I placed my lips gently on the inside of her knee but I felt her tremble as I slowly began to kiss a trail up along her inner thigh. Her skin was incredibly smooth and the temptation was to lick but I could smell how excited she was and I was almost overcome by the urge to taste her.

As I reached her delta she moved her hand away to reveal that her panties were already darkening. I was fascinated by the way that the tight material flattened her labia and, as I moved closer still, I could see that they were dressed with a pale creamy rime.

In a single moment of depravity I leaned in and ran my tongue in a broad sweep across the crotch of her panties tasting her through the fine mesh.

"Oh fuck!"

Claire was almost shaking with excitement as I licked again and again squeezing her thin, but copious, juices through the fine mesh. Without caring, I groaned as I snuffled like a sow.

I lost track of time as I foraged further afield, licking almost underneath her, but the abrasive nature of the material was beginning to make my tongue sore. It may have been the waning of my initial enthusiasm, her own need, or perhaps a combination of both but she found the presence of mind to put her hand on my head.

"Wait a second."

She pushed me back a little way as she rose unsteadily and then, with an almost rude rapidity, she pushed her soiled panties down her legs and stepped out of them before flicking them out of the way with the toe of her shoe.

She took her seat again with hers legs parted widely.

"That's better, now you can really go for it."

To reinforce her remark she ran her fingers over her mound to plump her labia and to part the matted hairs that fringed them. I was left staring at her almost perfect sex with the symmetrical lips neither too thick nor too thin and a teasing swelling at the apex hinting at a ripe clitoris.

A single gossamer strand remained suspended like a fairy bridge and, playing the part of the greedy ogre, I swept it away with my tongue and savoured the tangy sweetness.

"Stop teasing. Make me come."

Her pubis was so neatly trimmed that I suspected a professional hand at work and I began to graze it with my tongue lapping up the taste before moving on to the font.

I simply put my mouth to her labia and pushed my tongue inside and she accepted the intrusion with practised ease. She was so hot inside that my instinct was to withdraw.but, with a sound verging on a growl, she put a hand to the back of my head and pulled me tight.

Juices escaped her oozing around my mouth and nose and for a brief space of time it was hard to breathe but I pushed my tongue deeper and raised my nose slightly. I could now draw shallow breaths but the richness of her scent made the air thick and I was almost panting in order to get enough oxygen.

Claire interpreted this as a growing arousal on my part and she began to feed my perceived need.

"That's it baby...lick me."

She began to rub herself into my face straining my tongue in the process.

"That's a good girl...swallow it for me."

I do not know if she appreciated just how wet she was. She was certainly lubricating more copiously than any of the others within my limited experience and I had to do as she asked just to keep my mouth clear. I somehow suspected that she was fully aware and I imagined the many men who had already worshipped at this particular altar.

The odd thing was that her taste was in no way diluted; even as I swallowed my mouth and tongue remained coated with an earthy savour.

These thoughts and more occupied my mind as she took her pleasure at ease and it was a long time before she finally tugged insistently on my hair to focus my attention on her clitoris.

As soon as I touched it with my tongue it swelled free to stand proud of her labia and I began to pay homage to it with all my new found skills.

From then on it was a downhill road. I sensed that she was trying to hold back but she was gaining speed until she lost control altogether and her orgasm toyed with nerves and muscles which were no longer hers to command.

After all that had gone before I thought that she would have run dry but, as her body shuddered, spurts of moisture spattered against my face. In all my years I had never let a man do that to me, it had always seemed degrading, but here I was welcoming the inundation almost as a form of blessing.

I was reluctant to move from between her legs wondering how the hell I was going to face her but Claire forced the issue. She eased herself away from me and got to her feet.

"Stay here whilst I get cleaned up."

I sat down again and listened to the shower running whilst I tried my best to clean myself off with tissues and a bottle of water from the mini bar. My thoughts were a maelstrom and I could pluck nothing rational from the chaos but there was comfort to be found in this inability as I feared the conclusions that I might draw.

It was a good twenty minutes before Claire came back in to the room but I was shocked when she did. I suppose I expected to see her dressed, made up, allowing me the pretence that nothing had happened but she stood in the doorway completely naked. Worse still, she stood posed, allowing me to drink her in as she knew I would.

It was odd, after all that had transpired, that I felt awkward looking at her. I had often seen her in swimwear but I had never seen her completely naked. Her body was toned by regular trips to the gym and the beauty treatments that she delighted in and she might almost be thought of as boyish but for her magnificent breasts. They were of a modest size but they formed a pair of heavy symmetrical gourds with large upturned nipples.

Other woman paid thousands to achieve anything like the effect but Claire was naturally blessed.

Having allowed me my indulgence she crossed to the bed and unhurriedly plumped up the pillows. Once she was happy with the arrangement she settled herself on the counterpane, sitting up at the head of the bed, and then, almost theatrically she raised her knees and opened her legs.

"Eat me."

I almost felt a sense of relief. I no longer had a decision to make, it had been made for me. Like an automaton I slowly arose and walked to the bed. Her position made my own placement inevitable and so, fully clothed, I laid myself down and slunk between her legs.

I do not know for how many hours she kept me there, bring her to orgasm after orgasm, whilst she arrogantly relaxed but I was glad when she finally told me that she needed some sleep. I was left to gather my bedraggled body and to withstand the withering looks of the hotel doorman whilst he hailed me a taxi.

Chapter 6

For the next three weeks I threw myself into my painting almost avoiding human contact. If anything my works became almost claustrophobic, dark forest scenes and mountainscapes where the viewer is looking upwards at enclosing overhangs.

Perversely, my agent phoned and confirmed that the demand for my new output was high and I wondered if anybody actually understood the particular anguish with which they were imbued.

It was when I found myself working for almost twenty-four hours without a break that I knew I had reached a hiatus and in a rare moment of lucidity I decided that I would take a break in the Far East. It was something I had always promised myself and my face would not be immediately recognized. I had toyed with the idea of Buddhism once before and if ever I needed inner calm now was the time.

The decision made, I started to put plans together, but I could not leave without making my peace with Claire. We had not spoken since that night and, whilst I accepted that her friendship might be lost to me, I needed to shake hands if only metaphorically.

When I phoned she was her usual exuberant self and we spoke as if the incident had never taken place. It transpired that she was leaving at the weekend for a book signing tour of the States and her time was tight but she was hosting a supper evening for a couple of friends and she invited me along.

In truth, I did not want to go but it seemed churlish to refuse, once the offer was made, and I was sure I could find five minutes to chat privately with her.

I turned up at her flat armed with an expensive bottle of wine and found that the other guests had already arrived. Cassandra I knew. She had been at University with Claire and me but I had lost touch. The other guest was introduced to me as Donna. She was a young black woman, originally from South Africa, but now settled in London and producing books for the same publishing house as Claire.

Claire had produced a seafood pasta with a simple salad and it was delicious. From the start of the meal we laughed together easily helped along by a plentiful supply of wine. Cassandra, in particular, was a revelation. The shy, red-headed Scot that I knew had developed into a successful magazine publisher and now displayed a self-confidence that made her the life and soul of the gathering.

Claire served up a rich chocolate soufflé for dessert after which she cleared the table. I took the opportunity to help her out so that I could be alone with her in the kitchen.

"Claire, I wanted to apologize for my behaviour the other night."

She looked surprised to hear it.

"No apology necessary. I enjoyed having you as my little slut."

Her choice of words took me aback but she misread my uncertainty.

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch; using you like that was a real turn on but I told you I could never reciprocate, I couldn't do that to another woman."

As she turned towards the dining room she smiled back at me suggestively.

"...but if you ever feel the urge...you know where I live."

I was dumbfounded as I followed her back to the others. I had deluded myself into believing that what had passed between us had some semblance of affection but I knew now, beyond doubt, that I had simply been used again.

The wine continued to flow and I was grateful for its anaesthetic effect whilst I waited for a polite opportunity to take my leave but Cassandra was not about to let me lapse into silence.

"Cheer up, a penny for your thoughts."

Now that the meal had been successively served Claire was drinking more freely and she was becoming more intemperate.

"I know exactly what she's thinking. She's wondering if I'm wearing panties."

The others laughed. On the face of it she was belittling the male of the species and suggesting exactly what might have been in a mans mind at that point in the evening. Only I knew the true connotation and she could see my embarrassment.

"I'm not wearing any...and... oops... I've dropped my napkin."

The others found this pantomime hilarious but Claire was staring directly into my eyes and I could not tear mine away.

"Would you be kind enough to retrieve it for me?"

My good manners took over and, without thinking, I ducked beneath the table. Cassandra and Donna took me for a good sport and laughed even louder but they could not see what I could see.

True to her word Claire was not wearing panties and there, in the shadow of the tablecloth, she sat with her legs splayed.

"Have you found it?"

She had her napkin in her hand and she trailed it slowly up her thigh drawing me in like a snake charmer. Still listening to their laughter I crawled forward catching the scent of her in the process.

"It's right there. Surely you can see it?"

Matching her actions to her words she pressed two fingers to her mound to allow her clitoris its freedom... and I was lost. I fell upon her and with my mouth clamped to her sex I began to lick at her clitoris.

"You're very naughty. I'm not sure you should be doing that."

Still they laughed, and the fact that I had not reappeared was just seen as part of the fun but then, in her exuberance, Cassandra accidentally kicked me.

"Oh, my God!"

She had instinctively raised the tablecloth to apologize but, as she did so, Claire brutally closed her legs about my head.

"Don't stop. Let's show them what a clever bitch you are."

There was a stunned silence during which I sensed Donna lifting her side of the cloth to see what the commotion was about. Even with Claire's thighs pressed tightly to my face I could feel my cheeks burning.

"Claire, what the hell is going on?"

"It's very simple. This is what she likes to do. She gets her kicks from eating out other women. Watch."

She slowly relaxed her legs and I could have withdrawn but I could not face them. The simplest thing to do was to stay exactly where I was and when the command came I obeyed.

"Lick me."

I licked lovingly, with almost childlike devotion, and her sex wept its appreciation.

For the next few minutes not a word was spoken and the tension in the room was almost palpable but, oddly, I guessed I was the one who was most at ease. I was lost in a closed world whose limits were defined by the narrow canyon of Claire's thighs and the succulence of her heated sex which grew ever more relaxed under my skilful ministrations.

Claire tried to remain aloof but this only spurred me on to greater efforts and even she could not suppress a moan as I took her clitoris gently between my lips and massaged it with my tongue.

As she started to come she clamped me tightly once more and only afterwards did it occur to me that, notwithstanding the extraordinary circumstances, she might have been a little coy about the others seeing her spurt. As it was, I felt the droplets on my face as she squeezed the maximum pleasure from each ensuing tremor.

When it was over I still felt ashamed to face them but, without speaking, Cassandra and Donna allowed the table cloth to fall back into place like the curtain coming down on a performance.

The longer I waited the more embarrassed I felt but just as I steeled myself to act Cassandra nudged me again. My instinctive reaction was to move and allow her more room but as I half turned in the gloom I saw her hands reaching up under her skirt. In the space of two breaths she had kicked off her shoes and pushed her tights and panties down to her ankles in one piece. She then took them off altogether, using her feet, before hiking up her skirt.

She now sat, almost naked to the waist, with her legs open. The fetid air beneath the table, already redolent with the heady scent of Claire's arousal, was now imbued with the fresher overlay of Cassandra's.

I knelt there, dumbly, looking between her legs and staring at her sex. She was of a slim build and her sex seemed, somehow, out of proportion. The mound was prominent, intimidating, almost as though it had ignored the diet regime that the rest of her body had embraced.

There was no doubt about what she wanted from me and the choice was mine. I could have refused, perhaps even have stormed out in high dudgeon, but the coward in me won out. The easy option was to stay where I was, in my own private world, and do what was wanted of me; but was it what I wanted for myself?

"Oh hell! She's doing it!"

Cassandra squealed as I nudged my way between her legs. Her sex was dressed with a neat triangle of tight, fiery, red curls which was fitting because she was almost molten with excitement. As soon as I touched my tongue to her she opened up like a fairy tale cave and I penetrated her with ease.