by Bryce, A. L.
Sophia had Willow draw a bath for her, then sent her home.
27
“PORSCHE! PORSCHE! ... JANE DOE!”
Porsche scurried along the sidewalk, ignoring the calls of Sister Alice.
Goddamn nun! God damn it! Shut up!
Sister Alice continued to follow Porsche for another block, calling her name and waving wildly until she finally gave up and turned around and headed back the way she’d come.
Porsche turned a corner and leaned against the wall.
Finally!
She turned and walked another block to her destination: Barney’s.
I’m only going to check out the SALE racks ...
Edna reclined in her bed, plump white pillows behind her, her knees up, her hands clasped behind her head, biting her lips, trying to hide how tickled she was.
Lorraine—her Jersey girl— peered at Madame Unjeu’s pussy. She nervously massaged Madame’s thighs while working up the courage to put her tongue somewhere.
“Oh, baby,” Lorraine croaked out weakly. “You turn me on.”
Edna sat up a bit, grabbed hold of Lorraine’s ears, and pulled her head down. “Just treat me like a piece of gum—I mean, an ice cream cone—and you’ll do fine.”
Lorraine’s mouth and nose brushed against Madame’s sizable bush and she started to freak, backing away.
“Don’t fear the bush, baby. Don’t fear it. Give me a little taste.”
Lorraine steeled herself and dove in quickly before she could stop herself. Her tongue darted out and gave a little press to Madame’s formidable lips. She felt the tingle in her own pussy immediately. She licked again. And again.
Edna moaned her approval.
Porsche hummed merrily as she tried on a few pairs of shoes, choosing a pair of silver Alexander Wangs and Roberto del Carlo t-strap sandals. Neither on sale.
The sale stuff is all picked over. What can I do? And I have enough pants and skirts. I don’t even need to LOOK at those. But blouses ... well, I really could use a few more blouses.
She couldn’t resist the Balenciaga German Shepherd sweater.
$925 Fuck ... well, that’s half the price of the Prabal Gurung feather top so if I put that back ...
She added a Rick Owens cowl neck pullover to her stack and headed for the cash register.
“I’m sorry, but your card has been declined. Would you like to put this on another card?”
“What? No. That can’t be right. I just paid that card. Oh, they must not have gotten my check yet, I’m sure that’s it. Here’s another card.”
She smiled tightly as she handed the second credit card to the clerk, starting to sweat a little, praying this one would go through.
“I’m sorry this one has been decl ... ”
“Yeah, yeah ... OK. Here, I’ll just write a check, OK?”
“You might want to just go to the ATM and pay in cash.”
“What are you saying? My check is no good? Look, I paid both those credit cards on the same day. They probably just haven’t received them yet. Wasn’t Monday a holiday or something? I shop here ALL THE TIME ... ”
“Please, lower your voice. A check will be fine.”
Porsche wrote the check out with a flourish and pushed it across the counter to the clerk. She took her bags and flounced out of the store. Once outside, she sat at a bus stop and waited for her heart to quit beating so fast and so hard.
Oh, fuck! That is going to bounce. Oh, fuck me. Barney’s will bar me from ever coming back. What am I going to do?
She reached into the bag and extracted the Balenciaga German Shepherd sweater.
What the fuck was I thinking? I’m more of a Pekingese kind of girl.
She shoved the sweater back into the bag.
She didn’t have enough for cab fare, and ended up walking back to her apartment. She threw the Barney’s bags on the couch and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She poured herself a beer. Then, she took the shoes and the sweater and the top and laid them out over the back of the couch. She stood back and admired them.
I love beautiful expensive things. Is that a sin? Is that a crime? What’s wrong with that? I deserve them too. Well, I have no money. Really. Like, no money, now. Tsk.
She showered and put on black sheer thigh-highs, the silver Wangs and the Rick Owens pullover, no bra, a charming little black silk G-string with pink trim, and her Zero and Maria Lola skirt. Then she looked in the mirror.
Fucking A. I look HOT.
She put on blood-red lip gloss, some blusher and mascara, and grabbed her Lanvin clutch. She locked the door behind her and headed out to find her future.
She took a taxi to the Carlyle. She’d been there a few times with Willow and knew that it was the current hot spot for the wealthy lesbian crowd. Her prey.
She stiffed the taxi driver by giving him a one-dollar bill she’d pasted the corner of a twenty to. She rolled it up and passed it to him, then leapt out of the taxi and ran into the hotel and onto an elevator. She heard the driver yelling as the doors slid closed, “Hey! Hey, you bitch!”
Porsche rode to the eighth floor, then waited ten minutes before taking the elevator back down to the bar. She walked in, swaying her hips from side to side. Her nipples protruded from the pullover. Overkill, she knew, but she didn’t have time to spare. She had to find herself a sugar mama tonight. Rent was due in a week. She walked past an older woman sitting alone and took the stool two down from her. She sighed heavily and waited for the waiter to notice her. When he did, he was already carrying a drink to her. Something with a little umbrella in it.
“A gift from the woman at the end of the bar,” the bartender said as he set the drink in front of her.
She licked her lips, looking down at the drink, then picked it up and, raising it, turned toward the end of the bar, turned toward her benefactor and stared into the steely gray eyes of a well-dressed elderly woman.
She mouthed “thank you” and sipped the drink. She started to get off the stool and head for the woman but the gray eyes narrowed and the woman put up a hand in a “halt” gesture. Porsche scooted back onto her stool.
Mrs. Pea ordered another drink for Porsche and watched her from the end of the bar. She looked her over, noting the new top. Porsche had missed one of the price tags and it still dangled from her underarm.
Finally, Mrs. Pea walked over to Porsche and stood behind her with her hands on Porsche’s shoulders. “I want you to do something for me, dear. I want you to follow me to the bathroom and I’ll take off my shoes. I want you to lick my feet. I’ll give you five hundred dollars. Finish your drink. I’ll be in the bathroom waiting.”
Porsche slugged back the rest of her drink and headed to the bathroom. As she entered, Mrs. Pea said, “Dear, I want you to close your eyes. I don’t want you to look at me. I just want your tongue on my soles. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. But before I do anything I want to see the money.”
Mrs. Pea took a stack of bills from her purse and placed them on the tank of one of the toilets. Porsche knelt down, closed her eyes, took off Mrs. Pea’s shoe, and began to gently lick the bottom of her left foot. She’d done a lot worse for less money before.
“That’s fine, dear. Now the other one.”
Porsche slipped the left shoe back on the woman’s foot and removed the right one. She resumed licking.
“Do you want me to lick harder or suck your toes or something?”
“No, dear, just the soles. Just like you did on the other foot. Three more licks and that will be all.”
Porsche licked once, twice, and a third time when the foot was abruptly pulled away.
Porsche fumbled backward slightly, disappointed. At first she had only thought of the money, but as soon as she started licking she’d felt her nipples harden and was looking forward to whatever else the old lady had in mind.
“Stay where you are, dear, and keep your eyes closed for awhile. Stay in the bathroom for five minutes before going
back to the bar.”
“OK. Hey, I can do other things besides lick feet. I’m very talented.”
“I’m sure you are, dear. But I’m finished with you.”
Mrs. Pea left the bathroom and walked out of the bar.
Porsche counted three minutes, then got up, retrieved the money from the back of the toilet, and left the bathroom, scanning the room for the elegant older woman. Then she sat back down at the bar and waited. Things had started out well enough, and the night was young. Maybe she could meet other crazy old lesbians with weird fetishes. Fine by her, as long as she cleared enough for rent and maybe a new pair of sunglasses.
A young lesbian couple came in and sat a few stools down from Porsche. They traded smiles for a few minutes, then Porsche got up and walked over to them.
“Hi, I’m Alice!”
“Hi, Alice! I’m Veronica and this is Betty,” the tall dark-haired lesbian said, motioning toward the skinny blonde next to her.
“Right!”
“No, really! We know—it’s funny, isn’t it? But it’s true. Don’t make us show you our driver’s licenses!”
“All right, I won’t ... and I can’t show you mine, unfortunately. My wallet’s just been stolen!”
“Oh, my God, you’re kidding!”
“No! This woman was in the bathroom at the same time I was, and I was washing my hands and applying a little gloss, the next thing I know, I look down and my bag’s lying on the counter open and my wallet is gone! She was obviously a professional because it happened so fast!”
“You have to call the police!”
“Already did. They said I can come in and fill out a report but the likelihood of my ever finding it again is ... well, a snowball’s chance in hell, as they say. I don’t even have money for a cab, or even bus fare, home!”
“Oh, my God. Well, don’t worry. We’ll take you home. We have our car here. But, first, we’re buying you a drink!”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t!” Porsche settled her ass on the bar stool next to Betty.
Three drinks later, things were heating up. All three women had been touching each other’s arms and faces and the stray hand had landed on a thigh or two. Betty and Veronica began kissing and, when Porsche pouted, Veronica turned to her and drew her tongue over Porsche’s lips. She kissed her deeply. Porsche turned to Betty and the blonde opened her mouth slightly and waited for Porsche’s tongue to enter.
“We should go to our place,” Betty murmured against Porsche’s neck.
“Yeah, let’s.”
The three women got up and stumbled on their four- and five-inch heels toward the door. Veronica produced the car keys and dropped them on the sidewalk. Betty retrieved the keys.
“You can’t drive, too drunk,” Betty slurred. “I’ll drive.”
Porsche climbed into the back and Betty and Veronica climbed into the front seats of the blue Audi sports sedan and Betty roared away from the curb and into traffic.
Luckily, the drive wasn’t far and Betty only stalled out twice, both times at red lights.
“Fucking car,” Betty moaned as she ground the gears.
Porsche took a little pass-out nap and woke when the car gently bumped the front of the parking space at Betty and Veronica’s.
The three women wrapped their arms around each other and headed up the stairs of the condo.
Once inside, they headed for the living room and Veronica poured wine from the bar. They took sips and kissed each other on the mouth, the neck, the arms. Wherever their mouths landed, they kissed and licked and sucked. Veronica took off her skirt to reveal high-waisted black underwear with a keyhole opening at the ass and pussy. She pulled her top off over her head and her boobs flopped free, each nipple pierced and a winged dragon tattoo flying from one breast to the other, its tail circling one nipple, its mouth the other.
Porsche stood and stepped out of her skirt. She pushed Veronica back against the cushions of the couch and began to suck on Veronica’s nips. She licked the entire length of the dragon and licked the nipples some more, then began massaging Veronica’s breast and gently chewing the nipples, sliding the piercing bars around in her mouth, pushing them back and forth with her tongue. Veronica moaned with pleasure and reached for Porsche’s breasts. She tweaked the nipples through the fabric and refused to let go.
Betty watched from the other end of the couch, her skirt pushed up, her panties pulled down, and her hand busy massaging her own wet cunt. Porsche got up and pulled her German Shepherd pullover off and then went over to Betty and pushed her legs open. She licked Betty’s knees and thighs in tight little circles. Betty writhed around and slid down toward Porsche’s mouth. Porsche connected with the blonde downy hairs of Betty’s pussy, licking and biting and tugging gently with her teeth. She slid the lips apart with her mouth, tonguing the folds and lapping the juices welling there.
Veronica came up to Porsche from behind and pulled her backward. She reached around Porsche, took her titties in her hands, and began massaging. Betty sat up to lick wantonly at Porsche’s nipples and Veronica’s hands as they pinched Porsche’s nips. Betty’s tongue flicked back and forth as Veronica squeezed Porsche’s nips between her first and second finger, her hands roughly massaging Porsche’s boobs. Betty’s hand wandered down to Porsche’s G-string and roughly pushed it out of the way. She slid two fingers into Porsche’s sopping wet pussy and thrust in and out. Porsche returned the favor, finding Betty’s cunt and shoving fingers into her while her thumb found Betty’s clit and thumped it back and forth.
Veronica moved around Porsche and pushed Betty on to her side to finger her ass as Porsche fingered her cunt. The two women alternated thrusts then, as they increased their speed, both women fucked hard and fast as Betty bucked on the couch.
“Oh, Jesus, I’m coming, Veronica! Oh, I love you, baby! Oh, Alice, Alice, baby, yes, I love you too, Alice!”
I love your money, thought Porsche.
Betty lay back, spent, and Veronica leaned in and kissed her deeply. She turned and grabbed Porsche around the waist, lifted her onto the other end of the couch, and pushed her back. She spread Porsche’s legs, and began licking and sucking her pussy, sucking the lips hard. Porsche didn’t like it, and tried to stop it, but Veronica pushed her hands away and continued to suck and bite and then Porsche felt the wave approaching, felt a wall of tension, felt herself being lifted up, her hips raising up, up, up, Veronica lifting her ass up for her at the same time.
“Yes, bite me. Oh, yes. Oh, fucking bite and suck. Yeah. Veronica, suck the shit out of me, baby! Fucking succccckkkkkkk.”
When the tsunami hit Porsche between the eyes, all thought left her. She tumbled through a white abyss, forgetting even to breathe.
Betty nudged Veronica forward onto Porsche’s belly and began to fuck her girlfriend’s ass with gusto, her finger sliding in and out of her tight little asshole, Veronica’s ass pumping back and forth. Porsche reached down and began pulling Veronica’s nipples, mashing them back against her breasts, squeezing, pulling, rubbing, twisting those beautiful pink tips, flicking her thumb against them as Veronica moaned and murmured both their names. Veronica’s body heaved and pushed until the waves spilled over her and, left her shaking and jerking, lying against Porsche’s body.
Porsche woke up at 3 A.M. with Veronica still passed out on top of her. She had to pee. She tried to gently push the woman off, but Veronica was dead weight. Porsche finally had to shove her off and drop down to the floor to get out from under her. She tiptoed down the hallway looking for a bathroom. After she’d peed and returned to the living room, she found Betty sitting up on the floor against the couch, her eyelids fluttering prettily. She wiped her mouth, hauled herself up, and gasped, “Water!”
She and Porsche giggled. Putting their arms around each other, they went into the kitchen. They both drank two glasses of water and poured one for Veronica and took it to her. Veronica woke and drank and the three women sat grinning at each other.
“How fun was t
hat?” Betty exclaimed.
“That. That was really, really fun,” Porsche said.
“Alice, do you live around here? Can we see you again?”
“Sure. Yeah, I’d like that.”
Porsche showered and borrowed some jeans and a T-shirt from Betty.
“I can’t believe you had your wallet stolen last night, Al. Can I call you “Al” or do you prefer Alice?”
“No, lots of people call me Al, it’s fine.” Porsche paused for effect, and then began to cry.
“Al! What’s wrong? Oh, no, are you feeling bad about last night?” Betty’s brow knit.
Porsche shook her head, but continued to cry.
“Alice, what is it? You can tell us,” Veronica said.
“Oh, it’s just been a hard week, well, a hard month really. I ... my mom got breast cancer and my workplace—I’m a paralegal at a law firm—wouldn’t give me time off to spend with her! I mean, once I used up my vacation, they just wanted me to put in my usual sixty to seventy hours a week and fuck my mom. Well, I couldn’t do that, could I?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Fucking lawyers!”
“I know! Right? So I quit! What else could I do? And I stayed at the hospital until she went to hospice, and then I was home with her until ... until ... the end.” Porsche pushed the tears out, willing them to cascade down her cheeks.
“Oh, baby!”
“You did what you had to do, Al. I’m so sorry about your mother.”
“Group hug!”
Both women stood and took Porsche into their arms.
“I have no money. I was living off my savings, and my Mother’s estate is all fucked up, and then, of course, the stock market has been so fucked up, all my investments tanked. I had to foreclose on my co-op and rent a shitty little apartment. I don’t care!”
