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Mood Ring Ch. 01

By: Posey_Honey



Mood Ring Chpt.1 (revised)

Author's note: I was re-reading my stories because I had been away from them for so long and I am trying to complete the series when I realized that I could make some minor changes to improve the flow and readability, so I am revising my submissions. Changes are minor to content, mostly new stylistic formatting with some deletion as appropriate where repetition became intrusive to serial reading.

The story hasn't changed; I hope the minor changes I have made make the reading experience more enjoyable.

*****

Hello. My Name is Lynne and I am a Lesbian!

I think it is best for a person to just announce out-loud something that they have long denied. In truth, this is the real spirit of saying that thing in those 12-step programs.

I don't believe that being a lesbian is anything to be ashamed of... My reference to the 12-step program is focused solely on embracing who and what you are and therefore defeating denial. So many people carry around guilt and shame for no reason. Shining the light of realization and acceptance into the darkness defeats the shadowy monsters that truly exist only in our imagination.

Until you embrace who you are, you are stuck denying the truth and will never evolve in your life.

*****

I live in the Deep South of the United States of America which is by all means, very conservative socially: that means conservative sexually. I am a product of my environment. I had grown up with the implicit understanding that I would find, fall in love with and marry the man of my dreams.

That is just the way life was scripted in my world.

I wanted to find, fall in love with, and marry the father of my children; a strong lover to whom I could look up and admire. I fantasized about the big church wedding with a big white gown with veil and train, birds, singing, and cake!

And until I was 24 years old, that seemed to be the way my life was leading. I was totally fine with it.

Little did I know that my life would literally spin out of control and when the ride was over, I would find, fall in love with, and marry the MOTHER of my children! Someone who is a strong lover; to whom I look up and admire. (I still want my big white gown, birds, singing and cake!)

Whew, what a strange trip it has been!

So, I guess I should begin my story where it really began.

*****

Before my life took its fateful turn, I was an emergency department nurse living in an undisclosed city in the south (sorry, my anonymity is important to us both even though we no longer live in that city anymore) and our hospital had been trying to upgrade our ER status to attain "Level-One Trauma Destination" certification. (In order to ensure that quality care is being provided, my state requires certification for hospitals to be regarded as trauma destinations and patients severely injured enough to meet "trauma alert" status have to go by law to a level-one trauma center.) There already was one in my town, but my hospital wanted to compete and felt that doing so would better serve the general community.

Of course there was a certain amount of bitching from the staff; there always is when the status quo is upset. Some people do not like to have additional requirements placed on them in order to keep on doing what they have been doing. However, I looked forward to the additional requirements as it meant I would be gaining additional skills and certifications not only increasing my skill set but also making me more marketable as a nurse! In addition, the trustees of my hospital had hired a new trauma neurosurgeon who is an innovative master in the field. The opportunity to work with a living legend was appealing to me as well.

Anyway, the point of my story is not to educate you about state law regarding trauma centers. It is to tell you how I met my lover.

Dr. Anneke Beauchamp is one of the most respected trauma neurosurgeons in the world and conducted our trauma neurology class to bring us up to speed. It was the final section for our accreditation and I had been looking so forward to it! I literally worshiped the ground this woman walked on as she is my ideal of womanhood. She has attained a high level of peer respect and standing in a field that is dominated by men, but she has retained her femininity.

Dr. Beauchamp is of French descent from the Alsace-Lorraine region of France and damn proud of it! (I don't know exactly what all of that means, but I do know that it gives her a delightful accent when she speaks.) Tall, blonde-haired, and blue eyed, she is a paragon of fashion and always dressed for any occasion! I cannot think of a time when she has not appeared in a fashionable mode! She is elegant and graceful. She is one of the few women that I know of who has not garnered a lot of scandalous gossip as regards her social life.

However as she is a bit of a mystery; she has garnered a lot of speculative gossip!

Everyone wants to know: who is her lover?

She is a bit of a mystery sexually because as clever and beautiful as she is, she is not married and no man can legitimately claim to be or to have been her lover. No one is known to be dating her and no substantiated rumors about her having been seen in a lesbian environment exist either. Many people are curious but no one has ever been able to say one way or another!

So, of course the talk ran the gamut from her being a closet lesbian dominatrix to her being a tragically frigid Ice Queen. (Strange that people try to fix some kind of derision to her status as an apparent model of virtue; I guess it is human nature to try to tear down anyone who appears to have their act together and behaves in a professional and unimpeachable manner.)

I hero-worshiped her because she appeared to live in that rare zone of self-awareness that is giving, requires nothing from anyone and is totally humanitarian. Despite her high social status, she still acts humbly and relates on a personal level to each and every person that she meets in the course of a day.

That and incidentally: she saved my life!

When I was 24 years old, I was involved in a serious car accident with a drunk driver. I was not drunk. In fact I was returning home from a long shift in the Emergency room. I do not remember anything about that incident except for waking up in the intensive care unit several weeks later.

From what I was told, the woman driving the other vehicle suddenly swerved in front of me and in my attempt to avoid her, my car flipped several times and I ended up being pinned in the wreckage. It took many minutes to free me and I was rushed to the existing level-one trauma center.

That night, Dr. Anneke Beauchamp was on call and was the surgeon who saved my life.

I survived my near-death experience with no brain injury thanks to her brilliance. She had perfected a technique of causing hypothermia in a patient post-traumatic incident (in my case a serious concussion) to reduce the free radicals from attacking the brain tissue as best I can understand it.

I had some severe facial injuries, but an excellent plastic surgeon worked on me. He had to reshape the bones in my face and my nose and now you cannot tell that I was so horribly injured. Of course with so much work having been done to reconstruct my face, you cannot tell that I am the same person either.

Before the accident, I was a model. My face had a unique angular dimension with light green eyes that slanted just so. My features were described as "vulpine"; I had built a portfolio doing some minor commercial/print work for local businesses and moved on to some minor runway work thanks to my "unique look." Now I am more the girl next door. My eyes are still the same, but instead of having my Irish heritage show, I now look like I come from a Slavic country.

I am lucky to survive and so grateful that I was not permanently disfigured. I have never been vain about my appearance: I consider looks to be a gift of nature. Truth be told, I was done with modeling. I was tall early in life and my youth kept me slim (skinny really, but it was all young metabolism. I was never one to starve myself!) But when I approached adulthood, my body filled out, my hips widened and I was told that quite simply "my body shape was not in demand."

I didn't get obese. In fact my waist appears very narrow because of my hip flare. I actually look like I am wearing one of those old-time Victorian corsets. Men find me sexy, but the modeling companies don't. At 5'9", I am a modest weight of 143; but I have curves and they want twigs.

I miss my previous appearance and mourn it as long gone. The repaired bones and nose give my face a much softer look than I used to have and old friends that haven't seen me since the accident do not recognize me the first time I talk to them.

I am told that I am still very pretty, the surgeon was a master in his respective field, and some of the procedures I received, people pay to have done to them electively. But I cannot help being self-conscious about my appearance in public and come across shy. I guess my scars are all on the inside because even now three years later, I superimpose my appearance from before the accident over how I look now. When I look in the mirror, even though I am completely healed, I still see the swollen discolored tissue in the changed lines of my face.

I used to be very outgoing and liked attention. I know that girl is still inside me somewhere, but these days, it takes a lot for me to be comfortable with new people and to open up.

*****

After much coursework and time spent in classes for the necessary certification, we had completed the necessary course requirements to become a level-one trauma center! YAY! It was time to celebrate!

I was totally excited about getting ready for the evening! It had been many months since I was just able to go out and enjoy myself without having to feel guilty about not studying, and I was going to celebrate this evening to the fullest!

I chose to wear a really cute black dress from Twiden's Boutique; a local specialty shop that sells fine quality customized "habillements". I prefer tailored because of my unique dimensions and Twiden's is quite reasonable because they vendor off the rack dresses and then provide the necessary dimensional corrections. It was quite hot! A sleeveless summer lace princess-waist European style dress casual from Mona Vie; it made my pale skin look extra creamy. I did not spend a lot on it, but it looked like a million bucks in my opinion. It appeared formal and straight-laced from the front (think Audrey Hepburn classic) and showed just a hint of décolletage. The open-back however had two sheer lace panels depicting stylized angel wings, situated in such a way that it would be obvious that the lady was not wearing a bra. It flared a bit from where a faux corset peplum gathered underneath my breasts, emphasizing them (not that they really needed it) and de-emphasizing my waist to hip ratio. The corset-sash prevented it from looking like maternity wear and the skirt hugged my hips extending to a bit below where my thigh-high stockings ended.

In retrospect, I prolly should have at least worn panties, but I didn't want a panty-line to show. I felt a bit naughty and daring for the first time in forever! Besides, this was a celebration and I thought who knows: tonight I might get lucky! (Yeah right!)

It took a bit to find the perfect shoes to go along, but I finally found them at Nine West. Four-inch slingback heels and I topped out at 6'1". If my height intimidated any man, he was no man I could be interested in!

I treated myself to a "mani-pedi" and chose Hard Candy baby blue shimmery polish, but on my left ring finger I had them paint little red heart balloons or flowers on the nail as a cute affectation. Then, I went home and shaved.

Of course, since I was not going to be wearing any underwear, I fully shaved everything. It had been quite a while since I had gone full Brazilian, but I am trimmed enough on a daily basis that the extra effort did not cause any irritation I was glad to note! I am not usually so OCD about my personal hairy hygiene, but for some reason, I felt that tonight would be special!

And, I went with a new haircut. My usual hair-style was to wear it all one length, long to the middle of my back. I could braid it or put it in a bun for work, but I felt like a change was long overdue. I kept my natural hair color, a strawberry blond (not ginger!) but not blonde either. (It is actually this side of sandy-blonde, but everyone insists on calling it red for some reason.) Anyway, I went with an asymmetrical bob that left my hair chin-length on my right and shoulder-length on my left side. I thought it was really cute! And also, I went with natural mineral blush for my face. I am lucky that my natural complexion does not need a lot of care and subterfuge.

I left my natural freckles unconcealed as a natural look; (I have just a slight dusting across my nose) to show that I am au naturale! Light cobalt liner to frame my almond shaped eyes and some mascara, some lip gloss and I was done. I prefer nature to art in a woman's look! My scent was Tuca Tuca by Lush (I like it; a little vanilla, a little sandalwood) and I spritzed myself (pulse-points and behind the knees) before declaring myself finished.

I looked in the mirror to check my look. Maybe it was the new haircut. Maybe (and quite honestly) it was the fact that this was the first time since the accident that I really attempted to take care of my appearance; I liked what I saw!

Since I look different than I used to, I could finally view myself with an objective eye. It was like looking at a picture of a totally different person.

In the mirror I saw a cute little red-headed girl with a freckled nose and perky boobies in a little black dress. I gave myself a little wink and I thought "here is a girl that would be fun to know!"

I turned so my back faced the mirror bent over just a bit and the image changed! There was a naughty little red-haired girl with a great ass and more than a bit of stocking line showing: she looked ready to play! I couldn't resist and gave myself another wink and immediately flushed because it looked like an invitation coupled with implication! WOW! I better be careful not to attract the wrong kind of attention!

To complete my look, I chose a little bit frivolous, a little bit juvenile jewelry. I had remounted some mood stone jewelry from when I was a teenager and I thought; why not? They would look good as little heart studs in my ears. And I chose my matching mood crystal pendant necklace and mood ring on my ring finger. A little bit of whimsy just in case I met my life partner / soul mate.

Ever since I was a little girl, I imagined that my soul mate would know me through my mood jewelry!

Funny, I must have been still a little bit stressed because the mood jewelry stayed black showing I was tense and a bit overworked. I thought hopefully the color would change tonight! :)

*****************

We were to meet at the bar of a little Mexican restaurant named "Cantina's" and then decide where to go from there. This place was famed for their margaritas and although I do not like tequila straight, the mix in these drinks was quite powerful and tasty!

I managed to score a parking place for my little red Hyundai Tiburan (my "road shark") right next to the door! "Luck is with me tonight!" I thought to myself.

I parted the doors and ignored the hostess' query about seating.

"I am meeting some friends at the bar," I said and breezed on past.

I walked to the bar and stopped short: I did not see anyone I recognized.

UH-OH!

How embarrassing to arrive at a location without any friends! Going to places by myself was never a problem for me before the accident, but I just did not go out by myself since.

I almost turned around and left, but I stopped myself with some inner dialogue. "You cannot keep running from life. Now you saw yourself in that mirror earlier and you have to admit; you look good!"

I realized that I was grabbing the strap of my purse like a lifeline, relaxed my grip and fished out my cell phone. I then realized in my eagerness, I had arrived about 30 minutes too early.

The course ended on a Monday and everyone wanted to have the days after the final to unwind and to distance themselves from the classwork. The weekend was out because some had planned vacations to celebrate; that left Thursday as the only night we could all get together and fairly early in the evening too because some of the nurses had families.

I didn't plan a vacation; where was I going to go by myself? But I did take the weekend off with the idea to take care of some of the chores and personal business that I had neglected. It would be so very good to have some time to relax and just not have to have a care!

I scoped out the bar to see who was there. I had originally looked for some familiar faces, but did not recognize anyone. It was not very busy that night with only about four different groups of people. There was a young couple (maybe out on a date?), three older gentlemen that had the ease of company and casual look that suggested they were regulars, three young "bro's" that looked like they had been torn between meeting at the gym or meeting at the bar for brewskies, and some blonde lady sitting at the far end with her back to me. The young couple was talking to the older guys so I decided to stand on the right side of them, away from the frat boys. They looked like they were a few pints into their cups and I was not there to put up with any foolishness.

I went up to the bar and ordered a frozen margarita so I could just sip it to make time. I took a seat on one of the stools and casually looked about the place. I sat there sipping my drink for what seemed like an eternity when I thought to check my phone for messages or email; or anything because I was so completely bored! I had a group text from Katy, one of my coworkers and read that she was not going to make it because Tyler her oldest had gotten sick and needed some TLC. I texted her back saying that I understood and hoped that it wouldn't ruin her coming vacation.

As I had my phone in my hand another text came in from Steven. It was a reply to the party text Katy had sent and he said he was having car trouble and would have to bow out. Well, eight of us had taken the course and only four had wanted to go celebrate. That left me, my two instructors, and Sam.

Awkward!

I had turned down Sam several times when had asked me out because even before someone had told me he was married, I had worked with him long enough to figure out that he was a player. I am not innocent, but a lifestyle of serial short relationships is not for me. Besides, I am not going to have an affair with a co-worker. I have seen how that usually blows up and makes a job miserable.

Predictably, Sam sent out a text saying he had decided that he just wasn't able to make it either. Some lame excuse about "being a bit tired an all... hoped everyone understood". But I was relieved that he had: even though that meant that the night was a bust for sure. He was quite persistent. I guess that fifth time I had turned him down was the charm.

I sent the obligatory, "well, it would have been fun but u guys do what u have to do ... congrats on passing the exams!!! See you in a week."

Dr. "Beecham" (as her name is pronounced anglicized) and Dr. Sherr our main instructor were hardly the type of people who would just hang out with little ole' me. For one, there was the obvious difference in status and second, they were a little bit older; I think Dr. Beauchamp was 35 and Dr. Sherr was in his fifties.


Mood Ring Ch. 01



I had finished my drink by then and decided that I would have one more, wait out the good doctors, and let them know that the evening was a wash. Obviously with student-teacher relationships, it would have been inappropriate for any of us to have had a direct mobile access to any of our instructors. We communicated by email. So as the only person that had bothered to show up for the evening, it was up to me to let them know that nobody else was going to arrive.

It had been a while since I had been out drinking and I realized after I ordered my second margarita that I was buzzing a bit. I attributed it to my empty stomach and recent complete teetotaler status from paying attention to studying and not to partying.

No worries. I would nurse the second and then assess myself before trying to drive home. After all, buzzed driving is drunk driving and no one takes that more seriously than myself after my brush with death! A taxi is so much cheaper in the long run.

I looked around to survey the crowd; just to people watch as I expected Dr. Beauchamp and Dr. Sherr to arrive precisely on time. It shouldn't be too long. I again noticed the statuesque blonde woman at the other end of the bar and looked at her critically: sizing up the competition if you will.

She was striking. Tall, her long, flowing hair descended to the middle of her back. God, her hair looked like shampoo commercial hair! She was dressed in a crème-colored pantsuit that looked like it had to have cost $500 at the least. And she had a pair of "to-die-for" matching mid heel pumps that were totally appropriate considering how tall she was. She appeared to be slender, but from this angle, the suit concealed her figure a little bit. Holy crap she was a freaking amazon!

I half expected the frat boys to be making a nuisance of themselves around her as they were seated so closely, but they were oddly enough ignoring her. She was on the far side of the bar and angled away so I only had the rear-quarter view. She seemed familiar, but I did not know anyone that looked like a supermodel.

I turned back to my section of the bar stared at my drink and contemplated the evening as my finger traced a small design in the condensation on the bar's dark wood. On reflection, I was proud of myself for going out because for so long I had made excuses to stay at home and away from people.

OK so the evening was a complete wash and being at this bar by myself totally sucked. Still it was nice to dress up and go out. I realized that I wanted to stay out; just I was a bit timid to go anywhere else by myself. A girl should be careful about looking good and going places alone.

As I was staring into my pale green potion, a magical elixir except for the banal straw sticking out of it, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Perplexed, I turned in my seat and immediately my nose was assaulted by the smell of too much beer and too much "Axe" aftershave.

"Well here I am. What are your other two wishes?"

A guy of average height with short, brown, gelled and spiked hair, wearing tan Dockers and a striped polo shirt with the collar popped was standing too close to me and was apparently expecting an answer. It was one of the college-aged guys. He wasn't bad looking and if he hadn't been way younger than me and obviously pickled, I would have at least entertained a conversation. But I am often dealing with drunks in the ER and they are so tedious when you are the only sober one in the equation. (OK, I admit that by this time I was feeling the margaritas, but I was far from wasted and far from desperate for attention.) Besides, I truly hate pick-up lines. "Hi, my name is ..." generally works for me because it doesn't smack of "I am so fucking clever because I memorized a line from the internet to impress you." But, I am not a rude girl and hey, someone was at least "attracted" enough to approach to me.

I simply deflected. "Hi, I'm sorry, I am just here to meet a friend and not interested in meeting anyone new tonight."

He said, "Hey Baabe, I could be your someone new"

Obviously, the beer was filtering this guy's hearing.

"Yes well, I said I am NOT interested in meeting anyone new tonight! But thanks anyway."

He said, "Well, maybe not tonight ... How about tomorrow in the morning when we wake up in bed sober and can actually remember meeting each other?"

OK, that was just rude and I could feel my Irish temper ignite!

"Not tonight, not tomorrow morning, or ever! Please leave me alone!"

He asked, "What are you lesbo or something?"

"!"

Seriously?

I stood up and just stared down at him until he left. I have done a lot with just a look in the ER and I turned the full force of my powers on him. It worked through his alcohol haze and as he was walking off I heard him mumble, "Why are all the tall hot girls, lesbians in here?'

Whatever. This is the South and I am sure that most of the "hot" girls are not lesbian, but maybe it helped him salvage his ego. I mean why go for the obvious conclusion that smelling like beer and being rude isn't irresistible.

My ire was up and I looked down at my mood pendant and noticed that it was no longer black, but had taken on an amber hue; so much for attaining a relaxed state.

I turned back around and sat down with a sigh, well, at least that was over with. Hopefully, he would lick his wounds privately and that would be that. I believe most guys are somewhat decent enough to take rejection; however, not everyone is evolved to that point that they will move on from disappointment.

It was about 15 minutes past the time that we were supposed to meet and I was finishing my margarita. I decided to wait for another 15 minutes and then call it a night. I was surprised that the doctors were late. Neither of them seemed to be ones who would arrive fashionably late for effect, but maybe. Who knows, I did not know them socially.

I ordered a water and was watching the Spanish newscaster on the bar TV and not understanding a word. I don't really speak any Spanish past the medically useful terms. But this newscaster was breathtaking. Her naturally curly blond hair cascaded to her shoulders and her body was rocking! I thought that if I knew anyone with her sexy look, and sexy accent, I wouldn't be sitting here alone waiting for my professors and getting hit on by drunk fratboys. We would be out somewhere partying it up!

As if on cue, I heard a male voice say "Excuse me."

Dammit.

"Hi, my name is Jake and I think I lost my number. Can I have yours?"

I said, "Look Jake, I appreciate the attention (lie) but I am really not interested in meeting you or either of your friends. Please I am just waiting for my lady friend so just leave me alone. OK?

At least this one didn't accuse me of preferring women to him. He just said sorry for bothering me and turned around and walked back to his end of the bar. I really did not want to encourage them so I refused to look in that direction.

Another tap on my shoulder. OK, now I was pissed!

I almost shouted "What does it take..." as I stood, turned, and stopped speechless, momentarily stunned.

Ms. Supermodel herself was standing right there looking at me with a bemused expression on her face.

I was stunned because I realized it was Dr. Supermodel!

She spoke in a low sultry voice; like Lauren Bacall, but with a French accent.

"I just had to come down here and see who was working the young men into such a frenzy. I should have known you would be involved somehow!

Lynne. You look absolutely ravishing." And as she took both of my hands in hers, she leaned in and gave me a kiss on each cheek in the European fashion.

"...and you smell divine!" she exclaimed.

She leaned in again; as if to sniff me? I felt her warm breath on my ear as she whispered, "C'est pour le bénéfice de ceux qui nous regardent. S'il vous plaît jouer en même temps."

My French was a bit rusty, the sensation of her breath on my ear made me tingly and I was processing that I was to play along as she dropped her hands to my hips and withdrew just enough to duck her head back, gently pull my body against hers and catch me with a full on kiss.

Zoinks!

Admittedly I was a little bit drunk from my margaritas and it had been forever since I have been remotely intimate with anyone. But my senses were suddenly flooded with HER.

Her scent was a woody smoky fragrance like incense; not overpowering, but very noticeable. Her lips were soft and warm. Although it was just a chaste closed-mouth kiss, my knees actually got a bit weak. (Ok, I had always thought that was just an expression, but mine actually did).

When she let go of my hands and pulled me to her it had startled me and trapped my arms in a slightly upraised fending position. However as her kiss slightly drained me of strength, I relaxed and let my hands settle against her, coming to a rest on her upper chest at the nestle of her collarbone. I was totally supported in her embrace.

As my body molded into hers, I noticed several things at once.

She was taller than me. The fabric of her suit felt wonderful. It was perfectly tailored to her body. She was firm and strong. It was very nice to be in someone's arms and to be kissed. I felt perfectly tailored to her body!

I know that it only lasted but for very few seconds, but I lost a little time and myself for a second. My eyes had closed and as she drew back and ended the kiss, I followed just a bit and I heard a small sound, a verbal moue escape from me.

Oops, yeah, I was supposed to be just playing along. (That's the ticket.)

"Tu ês parfaite!"

I opened my eyes and looked directly into hers. They were blue, crystal clear, and shining with what I could only suppose was amusement. I reflexively moistened my lips with my tongue and tasted her lipstick. I could tell it was an expensive cosmetic. Her hair glowed up close and smelled lovely. It looked like spun gold and gave her a diffuse halo in my visual field. Her natural skin looked as soft as velvet and she had minimal black eye-liner, long lush lashes with a blended taupe and obsidian eye shadow that accented her cornsilk-blue eyes. Her lips were a wine-red color that delineated the Venus bow of her full lips.

In the background from the other side of the bar, I heard faintly the sound of cheering as if someone had scored in some sports competition.

I realized that I had been just about to grab her collar and French her with my tongue and felt my face start to burn. In fact I realized that I had tightened my grip onto her jacket lapels; I quickly relaxed my hands and attempted to smooth the fabric until I realized I was almost stroking her breasts.

"Tu rougis et c'est adorable!"

No need to translate that in my head.

Oh man, I was so embarrassed.

She was perfectly behaved though and ignored my obvious discomfiture without teasing me.

"I did not recognize you right away until the boys started to misbehave and to start harassing you. I decided that whoever you were, I would put an end to their harassment one way or another!"

She reached up with her hand and touched my hair, grasped a few of the longer strands in her strong but delicate looking fingers before letting them go, saying, "I love your haircut."

Dr. Sherr was on call and let me know he had an emergency come up. Where is everyone?

...

Why aren't you saying anything?"

Then her eyes widened and I thought I detected a hint of color come to her cheeks.

"Vous parlez en français; non?" as she stepped back out of our embrace and placed a well-manicured hand on my arm.

I realized that I had simply been gazing into her eyes without saying a word. Her French accent was entrancing and I was a little bit thunderstruck and caught like a deer in the headlights by my almost getting busted.

Her movement and touch served to break the spell and I stammered a reply.

"Bien sûr ...eh, mais il a été longtemps depuis que j'ai pris un cours de langue en français. Je suis hors de la pratique."

She laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that I found endearing.

"Bien, peut-être je vous aurais donné plus d'avertissement avant que je t'ai embrassé?"

I replied, "Eh oui, vous me placé hors d'équilibre." and laughed myself as I realized my unintended pun. Next to her mature throaty chuckle, my laugh sounded like a giggle or little girl's tinkle. (My voice has always been my bane! I still sound like a child and talking in a foreign language for some reason made it worse.) Thankfully we steered away from the subject and dropped the need to converse in a language presumably no one else could easily understand.

She took the stool next to mine and I noticed underneath her crème jacket she was wearing an earth-tone floral print silk blouse or lacy camisole. I couldn't tell with her jacket buttoned, but the fine material looked almost sheer and showed a hint of tanned cleavage hidden only by some exquisite lace.

I told her, "I saw you standing over there, but I didn't recognize you. Your hair is beautiful!" I realized that this was the first time that I had seen her when she had let her hair down so to speak. She always had it in a bun for work. She always wore glasses too.

She replied as she dragged her fingers through her long hair," Well, I find that people do not take me seriously at work with flowing golden locks." (Again with the throaty chuckle!) "But seriously, it has proven advantageous to maintain a separate professional work appearance and glamorous social life. Hardly anyone recognizes me when I don't do my hair up to be honest. So do not be embarrassed that you didn't recognize me at first glance.

And I did not recognize you since you cut your hair. It looks adorable. Have you been here long?"

I stared right into her eyes and said "I feel like I have been waiting for you forever."

What. The. Hell! Where did that come from? I had to cover even though I knew my face was totally giving me away.

I stammered quickly "I... I mean I know you noticed the attention I was being given by the rowdy boys at your end of the bar?"

She stated, "Of course, which is why I came down here. I heard them plotting to try to seduce you or as you Americans say 'Pick up?' And I thought it unfair for them to try to play games with the young lady at other end of the bar. The first two guys were supposed to annoy you and the last would come and apologize and try to be a 'nice guy who was embarrassed by his uncouth friends.' So, I decided that before I left, I would spoil their plans as they had already been very rude to me. Little did I know that I would be saving you, ma Cherie!"

At this point we were interrupted by the bartender who placed two frozen margaritas down in front of us and said, "Compliments of the gentleman."

I looked at Dr. Beauchamp and she looked back at me at which point we heard "Ladies, I just want to apologize for my friends' behavior. Please accept these drinks as a peace offering." She skewed her perfectly formed tawny colored eyebrow at me and we both turned slightly to be confronted by the remaining guy of the trio.

Superman was standing beside us. He had perfect black hair, a decent tan, and I swear a twinkle in his eye. When he smiled, his white teeth sparkled and I couldn't help but return a smile even though I knew his game and was mildly irritated by his interruption.

"Hi, my name is John."

He extended his hand first to Dr. Beauchamp and then to me. He had warm skin and a firm grip and he slightly turned my hand over so his was dominant as we shook and held it for just a fraction longer than was comfortable.

Dr. Beauchamp said "Thank you for the drinks; we'll accept them in the spirit in which they are offered."

He looked at her oblivious to the hidden cut and I suppressed a smile because she was telling me that this was part of his "plan."

Dr. Beauchamp raised her glass and said "I propose a toast!"

I raised mine and she said. "Pour une soirée pour seulement nous, les filles sans interruption par des hommes qui sont des abrutis complets quand ils sont ivres et peut-être même pire quand sobre!"

"Salut! I can drink to that!" I clinked her glass while looking directly in her eyes.

Prince Charming chimed in with "I don't know what you said but I like the way you said it! I love your accent! Where are you from?" I was looking at Dr. Beauchamp as we faced each other trying to send her a telepathic message of "We have got to get out of this!" When I realized that he was talking to me.

My accent?

I do have a mild southern accent. Most people tell me it sounds sweet, but in direct comparison to my companion's sexy French accent, it sounds quite common.

"I'm from Southern Georgia."

In my confusion, I started to square my body towards him when Dr. Beauchamp spoke up.

"Look John, we appreciate the peace gesture to make up for your boorishness and your friends' persistence, but my girlfriend and I were only meeting up here and we are just about to leave. So, I do not want to be rude, but as soon as we finish these drinks we are going to be on our way. It was an experience meeting you. Again thanks."

This was a clear dismissal.

I guess her strong feminine assertiveness must have triggered John's alpha side because he got nasty.

"So, I guess you are the guy of the relationship?" He then turned to his buddies and yelled, "You were right guys, they are both dykes!"

He turned back to us and said, "Hey ladies, I love lesbians. We could have a three-way. I get that you don't like men, but I could just stand in the corner and watch. I'll do my thing while you do your thing. You won't even know I am there!"

I saw red and I guess I started to take a step towards him because next thing I know Dr. Beauchamp placed her hand on me where my shoulder met my chest, gently restraining me with just her touch.

I had a fist clenched: I think I was going to punch him.

She looked me in the eye to say "I got this." and was on the verge of saying something when the bartender jumped in.

"OK! That is enough!" he pointed his finger at John and swept his arm towards the door, "Settle up your tab and leave, I will not have you harassing my customers anymore. You've crossed the line and I want you out of here!"

I noticed several members of the male staff had subtly edged closer to us; most likely about the same time as John. He signaled his buddies and they threw some cash onto the bar, glared at us and left.

The bartender said, "Hello ladies, my apologies. My name is Mike. Please allow me to make this up to you. What will you have? He removed John's "peace offerings" and set up three shots of tequila and was in the process of cutting up some limes.

Shit! I was already a little bit tipsy and flushed and feeling my first two drinks plus a quarter of the third: now we were going to do shots!

But since Mike had mitigated our problem, I concluded it would be rude to refuse.

My manners were going to get me in trouble sometime!

We introduced ourselves, raised our glasses and Mike said, "To new relationships, friendship and love." Oh these gallant Hispanic guys!

I clinked his glass, looked Dr. Beauchamp in the eyes and winked. I saw her eyes crinkle when she smiled and after touching our glasses, we both threw the drinks down. Wow, this had to have been good tequila because it was so damn smooth. But I could still feel the warm trail of the liquid as it made its way down my throat and I reached for the lime and bit it.

All of a sudden I noticed the glass of margarita in front of me and I stared at it.

This just wasn't fair!

I looked over at Dr. Beauchamp to signal "What do I do?" when I realized she was conversing with our bartender in Spanish. I do not speak any more than some medical phrases and I had no clue what their conversation was about so I just waited for it to end.




Mood Ring Ch. 01



Mike placed a glass of water in front of her and I whimpered a little.

"Please tell me that you are having more than that."

Crap! I hadn't seen her drink anything yet other than the shot. Maybe she had a problem with alcohol!

I quickly blurted out "I don't mean to push alcohol on you. Water is fine!"

I swear I thought I was going to wear out my skin capillaries if I blushed anymore tonight.

"Oh Lynne, you are sweet but I am not an alcoholic. However I do not drink much and I have to drive home. I did inquire about his selection of Mexican wines. He said he would choose a nice one for me. Do not worry. You don't have to drink alone."

"Here we go Señora, I have chosen a 92 Viñas de Garza 2007 Amado IV which I think a lady of your refined taste will find acceptable." With that he looked over nodded in my direction and winked at me.

I began to think my skin was simply going to break into flame.

Dr. Beauchamp again came to my rescue. "Thank you Miguel, she is exquisite, but we played up the girlfriend thing to try to discourage those boys."

I think it was Mike's turn to be embarrassed. "Very good Señora, well played. Those guys have been coming here for the past few weeks and I have been watching them target nice young ladies. They have been doing nothing criminal, but I run a family establishment and I do not appreciate "hook-ups" when it is clearly a cruel game of serial scoring. Some of my nice lady customers have been run off and I have wanted an excuse to be rid of them. Your tab is on me with my gratitude."

He wandered down the bar to take care of some other customers that had come in since the confrontation and we were left alone together.

"Dr. Beesham, I haff to confess. I do not usually drink this much; or at'all lately to tell the trufe. But I really haf halved way too much to drink tonight to drive home safe!"

Yeah, the tequila was kicking in. My words were slurring just a bit and my grammar was slipping.

It happens.

"First of all," she said placing that hand on my arm again. "It is Anya, we are not at work and we have already shared a kiss! We are so past first-name basis don't you think?"

Again with her chuckle and again with my face turning pink.

"I really like that I can tease you, but don't worry dear, I can run you home or call you a cab or whatever you are comfortable with at this point. Let us just finish our drinks and then we can go from there." She punctuated her sentence with a wink. She left her hand on my arm and raised the glass to her mouth. I noticed oddly how the ruby of her lips matched the red wine in the crystal.

"I think this had had enough time now to breath." And she sniffed it.

"Hmmm Nice bouquet... of course it is not French, but not everything can be; correct?" She looked at me side-long as she said that and took a sip.

So maybe I was reading into it, but I could swear that I detected sexual innuendo in her comments. Her hand on my arm, comments on our kissing and then this comment about everything couldn't be French with that look. Did she know I almost...?

What did she think I might be comfortable with at "this" point?

OK, I know that she had put to rest any doubt about our status as lovers to the bartender, but I have a confession to make.

Some Irish people are fighters when they are inebriated. I am a lover, not a fighter. What I mean is; I get really horny when I get drunk. A buzz doesn't do anything but make me a little flirty, but the drunker I get, the hornier I am. (Like, I've only been super-drunk maybe 3 or 5 times total in my entire life. In fact the first time I got drunk, I lost my virginity. Another, I had my one and only one-night stand with some admittedly earth-shaking sex. Maybe it is just operant conditioning?) Well, the fact is, when I get truly drunk, I might hump a couch if the texture of the fabric is sensual enough.

I am too afraid to try ecstasy; I would prolly hurt myself against some inanimate object!

I had never slept with a woman though. In fact, I have never really fooled around with one. I really like guys! Well maybe I should clarify that.

If I am making tonight my confession night, I will admit that in college, it was nothing out of the ordinary for me to make out with another girl. Truthfully, it has always been in a bar and sadly it was mostly for attention from the boys, which is one of the reasons I stopped doing it when I understood the difference between positive attention and exploitive attention.

However, I wasn't going into virgin territory when Anya kissed me earlier. It was my body's reaction to it that surprised me. I mean, I'll admit, I was a little turned on when I was kissing those other girls. Kissing is pleasurable, but I had attributed the sexual arousal to just being some kind of drunk and the center of the hooting and hollering and knowing that I had the power to turn guys on: well, that is what I told myself.

Funny; until now I had repressed the last time; when I decided that I was done with kissing the girls in bars for attention. I met Haley in nursing class and found a kindred soul. She had wicked sense of humor, a killer-rack, dirty blonde hair and smoky hazel eyes. We were barsexuals together. We liked the attention and she kissed like a devil.

That night, we spent the evening together in a country bar of all places. Those cowboys were really into the faux-lesbian thing especially if the girls dressed the cowgirl-part and paid attention to the boys and only kissed when begged. I don't think that true lesbians would have had much to do with the place with all of the raw testosterone and swaggering the boys were doing. It was a retro bull-riding scene and we were dared to ride the bull together. I climbed up and motioned Haley to join me. I was in the traditional saddle-seat thinking she was going to climb up behind me when she climbed up facing me and announced to the bar, "I guess I am going to ride reverse-cowgirl!" The place went wild. I was just a little tipsy and laughed. She whispered in my ear, "throw your leg over mine and let me slide under you just a bit. First one to lose their hat without cheating has to take the other home."

I didn't have time to process all of that, but thought that the positioning had a certain amount of logic to it; we wouldn't be thrown off if we locked together right?

What I didn't know was that it would lock our crotches together, which wasn't a big deal to me. As far as I was concerned, women's bodies are incompatible and lack the equipment to make a sexual union. I guess I thought since we had no "wedding tackle" and without anything to insert, there was no way to excite sex. I mean sure, when I was a virgin before I dared to try any kind of penetration, I would masturbate by humping a pillow. (Incidentally, that was how I had had my first orgasm). However, I didn't equate that with sex between two people.

Oh how naïve I was.

The mechanical bull started to move and it started to simulate a grinding of our "nether regions." It was slow and gentle and Haley moved in for a slow kiss. Sure, nothing I hadn't done 100 times before and we locked our lips to the obvious appreciation of our audience.

We had been drinking some that night, because, well...why wouldn't cowboys buy drinks for hot girls who would do anything for attention? So, I was flirty-buzzed and a little bit aroused from the kissing and the attention.

She started to get more and more into our kissing as the bull simulated a slow grind and we started to move in tandem. She was sitting a little above me holding onto my right ass cheek with her left hand and the back of my neck with her right. Every time the bull would make a revolution and change elevation, Haley would lightly rotate her hips and rock just a bit. The pressure from her groin on mine began to feel like someone was taking their hand and rhythmically press through my jeans in just the right way to slightly spread my labia apart and gently massage my clit. The bull's movements were gentle rotations so we wouldn't have to worry about knocking our teeth. Her breathing got a little ragged and our kisses were damn sexy. I was just barely keeping up with her; I swear, when she placed one of her hands on my breast and started to knead, to massage .... to stimulate! I think that is what snapped me out of it. Kissing in public is one thing but touching ventures into private foreplay and I immediately grabbed her hand to stop her. She slipped down in the seat, latched onto me and started to grind away with me in the dominant position. Our change in position must have cued the operator to change the bull's rhythmic behavior (or he just got bored) because the bull started to buck and roll making me let go of her and attempt to hold onto the saddle for dear life! Finally we were thrown from the bull and landed in a heap together.

She was in top of me and quickly found my lips. She locked on, deeply frenched me, and breathlessly whispered in my ear "I want more." The crowd cheered as she climbed off with her arms raised making a "V-for--Victory" sign with one hand and holding my hat with the other. I then noticed that she was still wearing hers.

I stayed where I was for a second trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened. Her body and touch had actually felt really good to me.

I heard a deep voice ask "Are you OK?"

I looked up and saw a ruggedly handsome blond cowboy looking down at me.

"Sure, I'm fine, just had the wind knocked out of me for a sec."

He extended his hand and helped me out of the padded arena.

"My name is Jess. Can I buy you a drink?

"Thanks Jess, I'm Lynne but I think I've had enough for one night but I'll let you buy me water." I said as I smiled at him and tried to pat everything back into place.

I was in full-on flirty mode and admittedly more than a little worked up from my mech. bull ride with Haley. She was quickly forgotten because I had a new target for my arousal; one that didn't imply any threat to my heterosexuality.

I am not a one-night stand type of girl. But there was a real spark with Jess. He was taller than me and polite; manly but not overly aggressive. I was contemplating doing more than giving him my number when Haley showed back up and joined our conversation.

Cock-blocking bitch!

We talked some more, but the extra person kinda threw off the vibe I was developing for Jess.

When the conversation had lulled, she handed me my hat and said "Here you go Lynne; you look freshly fucked without it. I'm going to claim my bet now, ready to go Hon?

I had forgotten about taking her home and it was late so I thought "What the hell, it's late anyway and it's not like I'm the kind of girl to go home with someone I just met."

I made nice with Jess who said in parting. "Here's my card, I'm only in town for another night, but I'd like to see you again. Call me if you are free tomorrow night. I'd like to take you to dinner."

I was flattered and what nice manners.

"Thanks Jess, I'll think about it." I was so definitely going to call, but I didn't want to give anything away. A girl can't seem too eager. Speaking of too eager, I felt a tug on my hand.

"C'mon lover. Time to go!"

This chick really couldn't be serious. The act was quite frankly starting to get old, but whatever; I am not a debt-welcher.

We climbed in my car and I told her to buckle up.

"OK, I'll drop you off at your apartment, but I've only been there in the daytime. You are going to have to give me directions again."

She replied "Uh-uhn! The terms were that the loser has to take the other girl home with them."

"WHAT?"

She just looked over at me, leaned over and placed a hand on my leg and said "C'mon Lynne, I could tell you are just as eager as me to take this to the next level. You got all hot and bothered and so did I and I really like you."

I was speechless.

"Haley. I am straight."

She still had her hand on my leg and started to walk her fingers up my thigh.

"I bet I can turn you. You haven't been doing so well with our bets and your jeans are soggy." She said in a sing-songy voice as she cupped my crotch.

NO they weren't!

This bitch was crazy!

"Well I'm not taking you to my house, so you better tell me quickly where to drop you off. And take your hands off me!" I slapped her hands away because the pressure of her hand on my pussy was a little uncomfortable. I had been in a constant state of arousal since our bull-ride what with the grinding and then the Marlboro man being so into me. But there was no way I was wet enough to make my jeans wet too, that was just stupid.

She got kinda pissed at that and said "Fine, just turn around and take me back to my car."

"No way, girl you are way drunk. You aren't driving anywhere." Her attitude changed and she was all sweetness again, but without innuendos.

She directed me to her apartment complex and as we pulled to a stop, she said, "Sorry for coming on too strong earlier. You are hot as hell though so don't hold it against me!" with that she gave and exaggerated little girl pout and I had to laugh.

"Hales, you are crazy but I love you. Now go home before we do something we both will regret later."

I swear I meant to say "before you". I swear! Or maybe I did and she wanted to hear "before we", but her eyes lit up and she grabbed my head with her hand and dove in for a kiss.

I was shocked by her suddenness even though I shouldn't have been, so I froze until instinct kicked in: we had been tongue kissing all night anyway and my hormones were still revved up. It wasn't long until I was returning the kiss.

I actually let her get to second base.

Here, there was no crowd and our bull-ride had broken the ice as far as "crossing the line" was concerned. She had already touched my breast on the bull and remembering her touch made me subconsciously crave it again. She started to tweak my nipple through my shirt and bra and this time my breathing got more labored and showed how much I liked it and that my body was responding.

She broke it off after a few minutes and gave a wicked laugh; her sing-song voice mocked me. "See I told you; you are into women! Now that you know how to get to my place, don't be a stranger." She winked at me as I stared at her in confusion and she got out. I watched her until she entered her building without turning around.

Shit! Shit! Shit! I hit the steering wheel ring with the heels of my fists.

I was so messed up. I couldn't deny that I was turned on by her. And now I was very aroused and very confused. No way was I going to get out of my car, follow her inside and admit defeat though!

I remembered Jess' card and looked at the time on my phone. I had a crazy idea.

Well, not that "it isn't done every night in America" crazy, but it was crazy for me. I was in a real need to reaffirm my sexual orientation, I was super-horny and I knew an available man.

I made the call hoping he wasn't asleep yet.

After a few rings, he answered his phone, "Hello, who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Hi Jess, It's Lynne from the bar. I don't know how to say this, but I have to work tomorrow night and I really would like to see you again. Does your drink offer still stand?"

"Sure Darlin' I'm at ...."

He proceeded to tell me which motel he was at and that he would meet me in the bar.

Well, long story short, we met up, I got drunk enough to go through with my bad decision and had my one and only one-night stand.

The sex was amazing though! Maybe I should write another story about just that night.

What was important to me though was that I confirmed to myself that I loved men and gave no more thought to the awkwardness of that night. It was right before my accident. I don't remember that I ever saw Haley again. I kinda froze her out of my life. I didn't blame her for the unpleasant memories of that night, but I didn't want any drama either. And then my accident happened.

But I had decided that bar-kissing was over for me from that point on. I told myself that getting drunk and kissing girls in public was exploitive and I valued myself too much to make a spectacle of myself; especially since the last time it happened several bad things happened. One of which was a guilty-pleasure type memory, another was just plain guilty and the last is a secret that I do not think I have ever told anyone that I know.

It was very wrong and not a lifestyle pattern that I wanted to repeat. Besides, it was cute in college or whatever, but I wasn't in college anymore. I don't even think I have gotten drunk since that night.

So, shift back to the present and Anya placing her hand on my arm, sniffing her drink and telling me that not everything can be French. Oh yes, and back to me being at the budding level of horny-drunk.

I had remembered all of that in the space of a split second and flashed back into my focus of gaze being on her lip shade and the crystal as she sampled the wine.

Well, all of my memories were no longer repressed but rather were now foremost in my thoughts.

She looked over at me and then down towards my chest,

"I could have sworn that your jewelry was amber earlier, but now it looks like the stones are purple."

OH, it s'illy really. This is mood ring jewelry. It's s'posed to detect your mood and reflect it in the color of the stone. It's scheap stuff for kids but I always liked them. Maybe I'ma just a li'l childish!" Of course my stupid voice squeaked on that.

She smiled at me and said, "I like that about you Lynne. You have no pretense and it is easy to tell that you have an open forthright nature. Why should your jewelry be any different?"

She leaned over and asked "May I?" as she reached for my pendant which was hanging against my sternum just above where my cleavage began to define. I thrust my chest out slightly to give her better access. I noticed that she had a French-tip manicure and as her fingertips brushed my skin, her fingernails gently scraped my flesh as she delicately picked up the stone. I involuntarily shuddered very slightly.

"Sorry, are my fingers cold?" she glanced up to my face and smiled as I replied, "No, I'm just ticklish."

I am: but not there. Not now. I looked down at my breasts and noticed that my nipples had decided to make their appearance for the evening. Well considering what was going through my head should I have been surprised? Normally my nipples are plump and noticeable through even all but a thickly padded bra or the heaviest fabric, but in the last three years, I have gotten used to them. Cold weather sucks, but what can I do about it? I thought I would have been able to camouflage them with my choice in color and dress texture, but the black lace over the fabric was doing little to conceal them. Fully erect, my nipples are about the size of the tip of my index finger and comparatively protrude out the length of the nail bed from cuticle to fingertip. Right then, they were about halfway there already with just mental stimulation. I didn't need the help of any more fingertip brushes or I would be poking someone's eyes out so to speak.

What had I been thinking about going out without wearing any underwear? I guess I had pretty much not counted on anything suggestive happening as this was just supposed to be a group get-together and I was just pretending to be sexy for my cynical amusement. I honestly had not planned on getting drunk so I didn't really think there would be an issue.

Anyway, Anya examined the stone and asked, "Did you have this reset? The setting is really quite good quality." And let it drop back and watched it drop on its parabolic trajectory to come to rest almost nestled in my cleavage.




Mood Ring Ch. 02



Mood Ring Chpt.2 (revised)

I triggered my remote and my little red Tiburon happily beeped and flashed its blinkers at me as if winking at me and wishing me luck.

I turned to my escort and said, "Ready now. I just wanted to be sure my car would be here when I came back for it."

The tall blonde woman wove her arm into mine, smiled at me, and guided me to the far end of the Mexican restaurant's parking lot. I had drunk a little more than I had intended to that evening and it was nice to have someone stable to hold on to.

Next to a huge mud covered pick-up truck was the most beautiful sports car I have seen. I liked sports cars. I liked my little car, but this was obviously something most people couldn't afford. I certainly couldn't even think about it with my nurse's salary. It was totally drool-worthy. I looked down the row and saw the Mercedes that I expected Dr. Beauchamp to drive.

"I didn't know you drove a truck." I casually remarked to see how she would react.

She threw her head back and barked out a quick laugh. "Actually I do have a truck, but it isn't nearly as big as that one. I don't have to buy an automobile to compensate for my lack of a penis. Besides, why do you think I would let my vehicle stay so dirty?" She playfully swatted my arm. "I take great care of things that have value to me!"

Her French accent even made "penis" sound delightful and I was enchanted by the sound of her voice.

We stopped in front of the pretty sports car and she said, "Hold on a second while I get my remote." She disengaged her arm from mine and started to root around in her purse

I took the opportunity to take a closer look at the sleek looking sex machine in front of us. The owner had backed into the spot and I could see a trident mounted on the grill. Maserati! I had never seen one up close. It was the color of the night and drank in the parking lot lights.

I said, "Wow, this is sex on four wheels. I bet the owner gets a lot of action because this is a pussy magnet for sure. Its owner already has me hot and bothered!" I looked over at Anya to see her looking at me quizzically.

OH GOD! Did I really just say that? Why did it sound so clever in my head, but so stupid out-loud?

She quirked her head and said, "I am not familiar with that expression but I guess it is self-explanatory." (I wanted to die for the umpteenth time that night.)

"Sorry, I guess my tongue is loose because of the alcohol." She chuckled as she withdrew her hand from her purse and triggered the remote. I was halfway on a turn to walk to the Mercedes when I heard the car beside us chirp twice and flash the fourways as the bi-xenon looking headlights warmed up.

"This is your car? I get to ride in it? Goody!" My excitement was palpable and she smiled warmly at me.

"It was my ex-husband's and you are right, it is a 'pussy magnet.' One of the many reasons I divorced him was his inability to keep his penis in his pants. I am sure he replaced it with a more expensive vehicle, but this was one of his favorite seduction tools and I decided to deprive him of it.

But that is all in the past and although I no longer love him, I love this car!"

I couldn't read her tone, but it didn't sound bitter. I didn't know what to say so I just kept quiet.

She placed a hand at the small of my back and guided me to the passenger door and opened it for me. I got in and was immediately caressed by the leather seats. The cool leather was firm and smooth next to my skin. It felt like snuggling into new clean bed-sheets with freshly shaven legs after taking a long hot bath. I looked at the dash and read "Granturismo MC."

Anya opened her door and settled into her seat. She put the key in the ignition and the car started with a purr. She looked over at me and placed her hand lightly on my arm asking as the interior light faded, "It is still early. Have you eaten anything? Because, I am starving. But I can take you home if you are feeling tired."

"I am famished!" I said.

"Good, I have a place in mind that I think you will like. We meet the dress code. Let me see if they have an available table." She gently squeezed my arm before letting go. She put on her seatbelt, grabbed her phone and I heard her dialing.

I resumed my inspection of the car's interior. I looked at the window post and reached a finger to stroke it. My finger left a pattern on the rough material. Wow, even the car post was detailed in suede. This car was a sensual delight. I idly wondered how many panties this car had helped to remove. Not a list I would be joining ha-ha. (In one of my decidedly less than wise moves of the evening, I had elected to not wear any underwear because I didn't want any panty-lines to show.)

"Hello, Ivan? Yes it is Anya. Do you have a table available? You do? Super!" Then she started to talk in Russian. How many languages did she know?

"OK Lynne. It is arranged. You are in for a treat. Ready?"

I nodded and she revved the engine which responded with a throaty roar. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and said, "Put your seatbelt on ma Cherie."

I giggled and as soon as I clicked in, she pulled smoothly out from the parking space and we drove off.

She said, "Before René allowed me to drive his car, I had to take the driving course. It was a really fun experience and I fell in love with this car at that moment. You truly find out about yourself when you are in motion."

She then told me about driving around Italy and la dolce vita. How she loved the old villas and bucolic pastureland. It sounded so nice and I relaxed as she chattered on giving me a sense of her love for life.

I looked down at my ring and saw that it had turned a tranquil blue green. (I was wearing my childhood mood ring jewelry set that I had had remounted so I could wear it as an adult. There are parts of you that you should never let grow up.)

I was relaxed and I thought to myself that the combination of the car ride, the company and the alcohol was giving me something that I had long needed but had proven elusive for at least the last three years. I had thrown myself into work and socially isolated myself from all but my family. I had been truly wound-up tightly and stressed out. Geez, I had even been too busy to take care of my sexual needs and tried to think back to the last time I had masturbated and came up blank. No wonder my body was going haywire at the slightest sensation. This evening was just what the doctor ordered.

With that thought, I just started to giggle and realized that Anya had stopped talking and was again looking at me with a perplexed, almost worried look.

I tried to cover my mouth with my hand and it only made me giggle harder.

When I had run the course, I looked over at her and said, "Sorry, but I have been so stressed for so long I guess my body just needed release. I had a thought which was an embarrassingly bad pun and that was that.

I know you must think I am a silly girl."

She reached over and patted my knee and said, "I know how hard you have been working. I am proud of you. The body craves balance and if you have been too serious for too long, it will seek a correction. You are not a silly girl. A silly woman maybe, but you are no girl!" And she stuck her tongue out at me.

We pulled up to the Crowne Plaza Hotel and I remarked, "Awesome, I haven't been to Ruth's Chris yet. This will be fun."

She pulled up to the valet station and we both got out after the valets opened the doors for us. I hesitated because I belatedly realized that I wasn't wearing any panties. (This maneuver seemed a little more conscious than when I had exited my car sober earlier in the evening. Then I hadn't had to think about what I was doing. Normally my modesty was instinctive. Now, I am afraid my inner slut was in charge and she didn't care so much for modesty or virtue.)

As soon as the door opened, I pivoted on my seat, keeping my knees together and proffered my hand to the attendant. He took it and assisted me to stand. (I am 99 percent sure nobody saw anything and I was quite proud of myself.)

She handed her key to the valet and joined me again linking her arm in mine as we entered the hotel. She told me, "We aren't eating here; we are just meeting our escorts. I like the steakhouse here, but I have something a little more exclusive in mind. You will absolutely love the food and I hope the atmosphere."

We walked to the lounge and stopped once we passed through the doors. Anya was searching the room when she evidently found what she was looking for.

"There we go, follow me."

We walked over to the bar and she got the attention of the barkeeper.

"Two whiskeys; three fingers and neat please."

I looked at her. What was she doing, I was already two sheets to the proverbial wind. What was she thinking?

She regarded me and realized that I was a little bit confused by her behavior and said, "No dear, you do not have to drink the whiskey. But our dates will be looking for the blonde and redhead holding whiskey glasses. Very cloak and dagger, non? It is all for fun." And she winked at me.

I had heard her say escorts earlier, but now she called them dates. I was intrigued. Surely she didn't mean male prostitutes! I mean I was still drunk and a little worked up, but my giggle fit and the relaxation of the car ride has eased some of the evening's sexual tension from my body. But I don't think I could go through with having sex with a professional.

I guess morality is different for the super-rich, but who am I to judge. I did have a one-night stand with a cowboy named Jess and all he had to do was buy me some drinks. Did the fact that no money directly passed hands make a difference? I was a little surprised that she would run the risk of compromising her reputation with me as a witness though. I decided that I would just wait and see where this went.

We had been sitting there for about 10 minutes, just chatting. You know girl-talk about work, fashion, and life in our city when two absolute stunners walked through the door. I think I stopped talking in midstream because Anya reached over and gently closed my gaping mouth with her fingertips on the underside of my chin saying, "Don't drool on yourself." Her tone sounded a little jealous and I looked over at her.

She smiled and said, "I think they are for whom we have been waiting." We both stand over six feet tall in heels and must have stood out because the guys headed straight for us.

The two men were dressed in dark tailored suits. (A well-tailored suit on a well-proportioned guy is like man-lingerie to girls.) One was a blond and the other had jet black hair. We made our introductions and the blond appropriated Anya while the raven-haired gentleman neatly singled me with his attention. He ordered a whiskey to match mine and we made small-talk. He was polite, intelligent, and charming. He had a chin that could cut glass and a rich deep voice that had me hanging onto every word. His attention to me made me feel like I was the only woman in the room that mattered. I was rethinking my reluctance about the professional aspect and it wouldn't take much for me to ditch my principles if he so much as crooked a finger.

"Ready to go?" Anya appeared at my elbow out of nowhere.

What? I looked down and realized that I had finished off my whiskey. (I was flushed from the attention, the alcohol, and my sexual repression. I'll just put it all out there.)

I hope I wasn't acting like a foolish schoolgirl out on her first date.

Robert took my elbow and we made our way to the hotel's porte-cochere where a limousine was waiting.

"Is that for us?" I whispered to Robert.

He smiled and said "Yes, we travel in style."

This time I had to stop slow down and consciously think through the steps of sitting down without showing off my goodies. I turned away from the vehicle and sat down on the seat. I pivoted and scooted over so Anya could enter after me. (I am 80 percent sure no one saw anything because I can't remember if I kept my knees locked together.) I did sit properly during the ride. (I do have class and was brought up well. All joking aside I feel a woman should act the lady at all times when in public. The college days don't count OK? It is harder when one is drunk, but accidents happen to the best of us and should not be the rule. Look, if I flashed anyone, I didn't do it on purpose. But like I said my inner slut had the wheel and I didn't much care about propriety at that point. I thought hopefully Robert caught a glimpse if there was anything to see and realized that it was an accidental flash. In the low odd chance that there was, that was. I also thought that I was properly drunk. I'll shut up about it now.)

We drove around for... I am not sure really. The whiskey had settled warmly into my stomach and I was enjoying the intelligent conversation we were having about Art and Pretense. I had commented on the fountain in front of the hotel which was an abstract piece and how I really did not like modern art. I was enlightened that it was mostly the statement against convention that made certain pieces ground-breaking and therefore valuable. (I guess it is more akin to performance art than anything else I can relate to.)

Maybe we drove for five minutes, maybe ten; I could not tell where we were going because the limo tint was so dark. When the door opened, I saw that we had pulled up to a brick Victorian looking office-type building in an old industrial part of town that seemed kinda sketchy to me. I took the extended hand and smoothly stepped out of the limo (99 %) we walked up to the metal door and it swung open all spooky like. I began to wonder how when I realized that there were cameras in almost every establishment these days and CC/ TV is not a new invention anyway.

I think I was expecting a coded knock and a peephole sliding open with a gruff voice asking for the catch-phrase of the day; all "cloak and daggery." Indeed, I was a little disappointed.

The door opened up into a nicely furnished waiting area. I felt like I had taken a step back into the 1800's. I realized with a little shock that it must have been a bordello or at least had been furnished to imitate one.

"Good-bye boys and thank you for a lovely evening." I heard Anya dismiss them. I was looking around in curiosity.

Robert came over and took my hand and actually kissed it. "Lynne, it was a pleasure."

I could have swooned. I don't remember having been treated with such complete courtesy. I watched him pass through an elaborately carved wooden door and he was gone.

"Thanks for being such a good sport Lynne." She said. "I wanted to surprise you and I just want to thank you for trusting me so far. Shall we dine?"

Trust her? I guess you could say I trusted her with my life. I was a little disappointed to see Robert leave, but let's put it in perspective. I had a nice time for about an hour. It looked like I was going to be able to spend the evening with Anya and she was no less wonderful. Plus I knew more about her. It was what I didn't know about her that made the night intriguing.

She walked over to a davenport and picked up an antique looking phone and spoke into it. "Lady Beecham for two, I am here," and hung up the phone.

The other door in the room swung open and she looked at me with a smile, "Looks like we are ready."

She took my arm and we walked down a narrow hallway to a wrought iron circular stairway. "After you my dear," she said and motioned towards the stairway. I looked at the steps and steadied myself against Anya, reached down and took my slingback heels off.

"Don't want to chance it," I said because I wasn't so sure about trying to negotiate a tricky set of stairs with my four inchers and not-so-recent departure from sobriety. My feet felt so good without those heels. They weren't the tallest set I have worn, but it is not every day that I wear heels so my feet are not used to them.

We ascended the stairway and she kept up close to me in case I lost my balance. I toyed with the idea of stumbling to see if she would catch me, but decided against it. I already had flirted shamelessly with her and I did not want to overdo it.

At the top of the stairway was an opening and I looked around and saw a hallway that terminated in another open doorway. The carpet was luxurious against my stockinged feet and I felt like I was being massaged into a mental state of comfort with every step.

Walking down to it I looked in and saw a cozy little room with rich mahogany wood paneling and heavily threaded tapestries. Amber glass accent lighting gave the room a warm subdued atmosphere and there was a table with two sumptuous chairs. The wood was dark, deeply carved, and gave the feeling of stability. The chairs had rich red velvet fabric panels and the tablecloth itself was an intricate pattern of gold and crimson thread. It looked Indian; rich and sumptuous. The paintings on the carved wooden walls were nothing short of fabulous. I recognized the so-called Pre-Raphaelite style. There was an Odalisque on one wall and a depiction of Hercules with the Lion of Nemea on the other.

I stopped short in the doorway and exclaimed, "Wow: sensory overload!"

Anya smiled and gently pushed me on into the room. "This is our room let's get comfortable."

She shut the door and turned to me with a grin. "Is this what you were expecting?" The door shut with a satisfying clunk.

I was dumbfounded. It was so much more than anything I had seen, or dreamt was possible outside of a movie set.

"It is so much more than I could have imagined. This is awesome."

The room was styled in the 1800's, but it had many modern amenities as I found out when Anya reached into a drawer of the sideboard and found a remote control device. She chose something and a soundtrack of classical music began to play. It was at just the right volume and non-intrusive and the violins set a wonderful mood.

She glanced at me as I took a seat and asked, "How do you feel, can I order a bottle of wine or have you had too much?"

I replied, "I have had more to drink tonight than I have had in a long time, but I think wine sounds very nice. I want you to know though that I don't usually drink so much. I had only planned on having two margaritas, but circumstances ..."

She said, "I understand, Tonight has taken unpredictable turns for you, but do not worry. I understand and I will take personal charge of your safety. Besides tonight is a celebration!"

I looked into her eyes and said, "Thank you. Some wine would sound divine." And immediately started to giggle.

She skewed her eyebrows at me.

"Sorry, I am a little giggly. It sounded like 'candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker' in my mind and please ignore my silliness." I fluttered my hand in a dismissive gesture.

Dammit. Why do I have to always sound so stupid when I say something to her?

"No Lynne, I actually value your ability to play. You are not frivolous all of the time and your rich sense of humor brings some needed vitality into everyday situations. I am so hungry, do you mind if I order for us both?"

Not at all, you know better than I what is good here."

She asked, "Is there anything that you know you just cannot eat or are allergic to?

"Nothing I can think of. I am ready to try anything new."

She smiled at me at that and then she grabbed a leather folder from the sideboard, perused it for a short few minutes and then picked up an old timey looking mouthpiece and said, "l'edizione speciale." Or was it "la selezione seduzione." I do not speak Italian and it sounded similar enough I could not tell a difference. And then "E un vino di corrispondenza. Mi rimetto al sommelier."




Mood Ring Ch. 03



The orange color of my mood ring that I wore as an affectation transfixed me and tangibly reflected my spiraling speculative journey. A toast had changed my carefree evening into one that was fraught with personal exposure.

I stood frozen holding a wine glass up in the air. I did not know what to do. I had been flirting all night with this woman who was my idol. When the water-closet bidet splashed me with cold water, it had dampened my out of control libido and figuratively allowed me to sober up to the reality of the situation I was in.

I realized I was in real trouble.

To quickly bring you up to speed, maybe I should quickly recap the night's events that would explain how a straight girl like me could end up in this situation.

We had started the evening at a Mexican restaurant and this tall attractive blonde lady had rescued me from a cynical plot to "pick me up" by publicly but very subtly insinuating that she was my lover. I had gone along with it partly because I was swept into it by circumstance, partly because it had turned out to be a little fun, and partly because for some inexplicable reason it had turned me on. Her attention to me was very flattering. I was drunk and had gotten carried away. Mostly though, I had gone along with it because I didn't really think it was possible. At the time, I had never suspected that she was attracted to women, or anyone for that matter. She was unobtainable and the flirting was safe like walking a tightrope with a guide-wire harness and net to back things up.

Not so much fun to realize that the harness is not hooked up to anything and the net was just an illusion of shadow and light.

I should have been overjoyed by her interest, but instead I was overwhelmed and felt trapped in a web of my own spinning.

I sensed dangers on many fronts; the danger of rejecting and of rejection, the danger of losing a new friend, (Perhaps the danger of discovery?)The danger of falling in love with someone out of reach in terms of social status but more germanely because of gender:

I wanted a long-term and fecund love relationship. In my mind there could be no happy ending to embarking on a sexual relationship with a woman, but there would be an inevitable ending. I had life-dreams and desires that were totally incompatible with the lesbian lifestyle.

This lady was well-placed in the community and was apparently in the closet. She was also well-placed at my work because she was a renowned trauma surgeon with an excellent reputation. I was just an ER nurse and who do you think would be encouraged to leave if there was any conflict over this? I guess I was protected by sexual harassment laws, but come on. I had never had a problem like this before and it was partly of my own making. I had been throwing the available and interested signals out all night.

I did not want to hurt her either through rejection or by having to protect myself. Not only would a sexual harassment lawsuit be embarrassing, it would be damaging to Dr. Beauchamp's reputation and she had a sterling one until I realized I might "out" her. Besides I had a lot of respect for her and this was not her fault.

My hydra-like sprawling speculation was interrupted by a polite general interjection.

"Ahem."

My thoughts had gone from 0-60 in the space of a second and I was frozen while my mind flashed immediately from personal dangers to sexual harassment lawsuits. I realized that I had gone off into my head and was still standing and holding a glass of wine in my hand upraised to a toast; a toast in which she essentially wished a happy evening for just us ladies without the interference of any men who were all worse than brutes. What was I going to do?

Dr. Beauchamp was standing, now holding her glass at her side and looking at me expectantly.

She set her glass on the table and delicately took mine from my frozen fingers. She was not stupid and must have realized that I was freaking out.

"Sit down ma Cherie." And with that she firmly directed me to my seat.

After I sat down, she took her seat right next to mine crossed her legs and took one of my hands in both of hers. I reflected that earlier in the evening this exact action had stirred me with warm excitement; now it filled me with icy dread.

She looked down at our clasped hands and broke the silence, "You know, right after my toast I watched your mood stones change from a green to orange. I remember the circumstances in which your jewelry was orange earlier. I think I can guess what that means."

She looked a little distressed and her face assumed a wan expression as she said, "I owe you an apology. I think I misread you and set in motion events this evening that have made you uncomfortable."

I was dumbfounded. I had led her on and she was apologizing to me?

She looked up and right into my eyes. "Lynne, I am a lesbian and I find you enthralling. You are a warm, friendly, and intelligent young woman. You have to be one of the most naturally beautiful women I know; both inside and out. But I realize now that you likely do not return my interest. I hope we can develop a friendship. I have not had a true lady friend in many years."

What? She knew there was nothing natural about my face.

I was stunned to hear her admission even though I had been entertaining the notion all night and more than suspected after she repeated that toast. But to hear it out and freely given; her apology, simple and truthful made me ashamed for my jumping to extreme catastrophic consequences of my rejecting her romantically and sexually.

She was truly remarkable and I did not deserve her admiration.

"I have a confession of my own." My voice was barely audible. This was truly painful and I dropped my gaze to the floor. I was about to admit to leading her on and that I was confused by my own behavior when she stopped me dead in my tracks.

She said something which truly shocked me.

"I met your girlfriend when you were in your coma."

I looked at her blinking my eyes in rapid succession trying to process that statement.

She must have sensed my confusion. "The pretty blonde-haired girl came around every day for a few hours until she was asked to leave by your family. I had spoken to her. She was very upset and told me that she loved you but had made a terrible mistake and now it was too late to fix things. I naturally presumed that you were once lovers."

In a flash I realized the only person she could have meant.

Haley was the girlfriend, but; we only kissed each other in bars. I had assumed it was because we had realized that our drinks were free if we pretended to be two pretty lesbian girlfriends who were possibly available under the right circumstances. It wasn't honest, but we were young and the attention was almost more intoxicating than the alcohol. I had never known that she visited me while I was in a coma because I had stopped talking to her. It was about 2 months before my accident when we had ended up kissing in private and it had turned me on. When she shoved it in my face, I was scared and very recklessly retaliated by having a drunken one-night stand with a man I had just met. I transferred the shame and guilt of the whole affair onto her and never spoke to her again. I didn't know what to say! I realized that I had treated her very badly, but everything had happened at once!

I had gotten pregnant that night.

I never told anyone.

I knew there was a problem when my nipples and areola had turned a plum color. But I was desperate to deny it.

My nipples had always been a rosy light-pink and then one day I noticed that they were a noticeably darker shade of rose. I also realized that my bra wasn't fitting as well as it had and actually that my breasts felt fuller. I was approaching my period and I had attributed it to just the normal swelling and tenderness of my menses.

I didn't think I had missed my period; it had been just a few days early and the flow was lighter than usual. But I was relieved because foolishly I hadn't used protection with the cowboy and I knew that darkening of nipples was often an early sign of pregnancy. I reasoned that maybe it was just the tanning bed that was causing a hyperpigmentation.

But when I missed the next one, I knew. My previous "period" had been the spotting and cramping from the implantation of an embryo. I must have realized it on one level, but I was unconsciously doing things to avoid noticing. It sounds weird, but I have heard it is common for many people. I attributed my mood swings to being upset about Haley and guilt over my out-of-character action of sleeping with a stranger. I worked as an ER nurse so loose-fitting scrubs were the uniform of the day at work and I just wore sweats and loose tee-shirts at home. Showers were all business because I was usually running late for time. And working so much was what was making me tired all of the time.

At least I hadn't had morning sickness.

I had waited out as long as I could until there was just no denying that I had missed my period. That morning, I got out of my shower and looked critically at my body in the mirror. I had put on a little weight. There was no denying that my belly was distended a little as if I were really bloated. My breasts had grown almost one cup size. (In my denial, I was still trying to fit them into my regular bras.) When I examined my breasts I realized the slightly darker rose of my areola that had originally gotten my attention was now a rich plum color. They were larger in diameter and there were these new small bumps in the areola periphery. The nipples had plumped and were very prominent.

There was no denying it anymore; my body was going through the changes of early pregnancy. But I still had to confirm.

That night, I had taken a pregnancy test from the ER supply. I didn't take it until the end of the shift but I know I had to have to have been acting distracted all day. I went into the staff bathroom, locked the door and pee'd on the stick.

It was positive. I had counted back to the only night it could have been and determined that I was about 10 weeks pregnant. I left work somewhat in a daze and then was involved in that horrific accident.

When they told me I had lost the baby after I came out of the coma, I had been really confused because I didn't remember being pregnant. It became a part of the confusion of recovery and I hope it doesn't make me sound like a bad person, but I hadn't had time to come to grips with being pregnant before my accident. I know intellectually it was a part of me that died, but losing my baby was no more emotional for me than losing a tooth.

I had been living numbly for the last three years and now was time to pay the piper.

It all hit me at once and I dropped my head in my despair.

Tears started to well up in my eyes, overflowed my lids, and started to drip to the floor.

She reached over and placing her shapely fingers underneath my chin and raised my head back to level.

"Are you crying? What have I said that has upset you?" She didn't exactly have panic in her voice, but there was a true note of concern. I hadn't realized that I was shedding tears, but now I was feeling so wretched that my eyes were watering uncontrollably. She stood both of us up and took me by the hand. As if I needed to feel badly about anything else, I felt horrible that I had led this beautiful and gentle soul on with my drunken behavior.

Our eyes met and we gazed at each other in a mutual unspoken understanding. I was voiceless and could only stare fixedly in my mute need; in return, her calm gaze wordlessly radiated warmth, acceptance, and understanding.

Water met sky and she gathered me gently in her arms.

Her strong presence enveloped me and I found myself crying so hard that I was loudly sobbing. She soothed me with the soft stroking of her hands and said, "Let it all out. Women in our profession have to repress a lot of sorrow and when the dam bursts sometimes there is a flood that escapes all at once from our accumulated repressed emotions."

Oh indeed, I had a lot of repressed emotion and it was all trying to burst forth through my tear ducts.

I found myself standing, embracing, and being embraced by a very tall woman. I had taken off my heels and although I stand at a respectable 5'9", my head was able to rest comfortably on her shoulder.

I felt safety and comfort and I allowed my grief to flow freely.

I had abandoned a friend that was in love with me; I should have handled it better even though I did not desire a romantic relationship with her. I shamed myself by getting pregnant with a stranger; I am more responsible than that. I lost my baby. I can't be blamed for that because it was a result of an accident, but because of me a human life came into the world and was snuffed out and it didn't mean a thing to me.

Now, I was going to have to admit that I was a self-absorbed and callous bitch to someone that I really wanted to impress and whose good regard was very important to me.

After a few moments, I self-consciously realized that I was drenching the front of her crème-colored jacket. I am glad that I had chosen not to wear a lot of make-up that evening as eye make-up would be a lot harder to clean up than my unexplained expression of sorrow. My mascara and eye-liner were waterproof so there were no worries. I did not need to feel guilty about ruining her expensive jacket in addition to the other guilt monsters that were nibbling at my insides.

Oddly that thought dried up my tears and my sobbing gradually subsided.

She set me down gently and the sat down herself. I said humbly. "I hope I didn't ruin your clothes." As I took the back of my hand and wiped my eyes, I checked to see if my eye make-up had run. Nope. Good.

She looked at me and said, "Being allowed to express grief is priceless. Clothes are replaceable. I may even never wear this again anyway. Don't beat yourself up for letting your feelings out."

I excused myself to go freshen up in the powder room, and perhaps to stall. I didn't know where to begin or what to say. I looked in the mirror at myself. The young red-haired lady in the mirror had red-rimmed eyes that were a little swollen. Her nose was red and running. Eeww! I took some tissue, wiped my nose and wet the available towel and did my best to return my appearance to normal so that it didn't look like I had been recently pepper-sprayed.

I exited the lavatory and saw that the chairs were in the same configuration. Dr. Beauchamp was sitting in her chair poised, with a look of empathy and concern on her nobly-lined face. She really was beautiful. She stood as I entered the room. She had removed her jacket and was dressed in an exquisite silk earth-toned floral print wrap camisole and crème slacks. From the spaghetti straps depended sheer pointelle-lace cups that did little to conceal her pert buoyant breasts that appeared to have never heard of gravity. They were not huge, but they were perfect heavy teardrop shapes that looked like someone was holding them up by an invisible thread attached to each pointy nipple. Two swathes of crème-colored lace were situated wrap-style to conceal a direct view of her cleavage, rather suggesting just the hint of perfection. She had a leopard print tie wrapped around her waist and the camisole was bordered on the bottom by more crème lace.

Not making this easy.

"Dr. Beecham, ..." she instantly grabbed my hands. My eyes had dropped to the floor again and her sudden movement startled me.

"Please call me Anya, now and forever." This time there was actual panic in her voice. I realized that I was unconsciously distancing her from me by formally addressing her. Another guilt monster.

I looked her directly in the eyes and swallowed before I spoke.

"Anya, I haven't been fair or honest with you tonight. I am so sorry. I don't know what I am doing and I did not mean to lead you on. Your attention is exciting but I don't deserve it.

I need to sit for this."

We sat down and I continued. She still had both of my hands in hers and was sitting with an expectant look on her face and she followed every word.

"Haley, the pretty blonde wasn't my girlfriend. We were just silly girls that kissed each other for attention in bars so boys would like us. Or so I thought: apparently Haley had feelings for me; I never knew that she visited me. I had cruelly cut her off when she revealed to me that she wanted more than our casual social friendship. I have done some very bad things. I have destroyed the feelings of almost everyone that has had romantic feelings for me without realizing it." She wrinkled her eyebrows at that.

"I have been so numb ever since my accident that I am not even sure that I have true feelings anymore. Tonight is the first time that I have had a good cry since I can remember, and I have a lot to be sorrowful for."

I readjusted my grip on her hand so we were equally hand in hand.

"I cannot explain what happened when you kissed me. It was very sweet and I enjoyed it, but I don't deserve it. I am afraid that I cannot return your interest like you deserve. You are warm, gentle and a complete lady. I am going to embarrass myself and tell you that I practically idol-worship you." She smiled brightly and I think her eye moistened a little. But she let me finish.

"If you were a man and I wasn't such a screwed-up mess, Anya, I would want to marry you. Well, that is maybe jumping to conclusions, but I think you could be perfect for me. But I want to get married and have babies. Two women cannot have that in this world because they are physically incompatible and cannot make love to create a child."

She broke in at that, "Lynne, you must understand. I am not someone who just met you in a bar tonight. I know more about your history than most people and I have known you for three years. My attraction to you is not based on just one kiss and some flirty banter. I have watched you during this accreditation course and at work and I know who you are when nobody is watching. You are a kind generous soul. You do good acts without asking for recognition. If I am right recognition would cheapen the gesture?

I didn't know what to say, so I simply nodded yes to answer the question, and she continued.

"I am not a saint or someone to idolize. I have done terrible things in my past as well. I have literally destroyed lives through heartlessness. My actions now are to atone for a past littered with destroyed businesses, shattered marriages, and broken lives. I cannot change my past, but I am responsible for my future."

She released my hands and reached over and picked up her wine glass. I reached for mine.

She said "Allow me to make a new toast.

To our future voyage in life; may there always be wind to fill our sails; may our vessels weather any storm and may we always be able to find a safe harbor."

I clinked my glass against hers while looking her squarely in the eye, said, "Salut!" and drank deeply.

Placing her glass on the table she looked over at me and said "I am starved, let us start our meal. We can continue to talk as we eat." and touched a recessed button on a fixture.

She looked at me and asked, "May I ask you a personal question?"

I replied, "Anya, you apparently know more about me than anyone else right now, I'm an open book. Ask away. I'll let you know if I am uncomfortable with anything."

"You said you weren't in a serious relationship with Haley, but she acted like a distraught lover when I met her. Your family seemed to think her presence was inappropriate. I know you say you want to marry a man. But I am unclear; are you bisexual?"




Mood Ring Ch. 03



"NO!

Well, maybe; I don't know. Kissing Haley was just for fun until one night when we had been at a bar and, well: I drove her home and we weren't kissing for the attention. It freaked me out so much that I called a guy I had just met and we spent the night together. It happened about two months before my car accident and I haven't thought about it until tonight. I guess until tonight I have been running from it and repressing it."

She asked, "Did you have a boyfriend? "

"No, thankfully I cannot add cheating to the list of things that I carry around to beat myself up with." I flashed a quick smile to let her know I was joking.

She calculated in her head, "So that means your baby was a product of that one-night stand? You poor poor little thing! To have to face that on your own; I quickly deduced that your family did not know and I made sure that they never found out. Yes, there is a privacy law in effect, but you know as well as I do how people let confidential information slip through because of their ignorance. We estimated about 10-11 weeks based on the fetus and your body signs. I am so sorry for your loss." She reached over and gently squeezed my forearm in empathy.

I actually teared up to hear her express sympathy. (The last time anyone had talked to me about it, I was still in a morphine haze, my face felt like hell and everything was a bad dream that I had woken up into. Having been pregnant and then losing my baby were just incidental scenes in the nightmare play of my wrecked life featuring my broken face. It is different hearing it in your head and then hearing it again out loud. But I had already had my cry for the night.)

"Thank you. It is weird, but in a way I feel like I got a second chance. Having a baby would have made my life very difficult. I could have done it and I am sorry that I lost my baby. I love children but those circumstances absolutely sucked."

About that time the low volume chime sounded to announce the arrival of our first course.

Inside the dumbwaiter was a tray on which sat two white porcelain bowls. She brought it over to the table and I could see that the bowls contained a pale green soup sprinkled with dill. Along the plate were some thinly sliced cucumbers. It looked scrumptious and I was starving.

We dug into our soups and continued our conversation.

I had quickly come to a realization. "Anya, you know what just occurred to me?"

She shook her head negative but as a sign to continue.

"Lynne McKinney died in that car accident. I have been carrying a ghost for the past three years. The crying was her sorrowful spirit leaving my body."

She looked at me like I was not making sense or that I was about to slip into crazy.

"No, look at it this way. I am speaking figuratively. Lynne McKinney made some really bad choices right before she was in that accident and I have been trying to deal with them ever since. The thing is; I don't have to. The accident gave me a clean slate so to speak. Tonight is really the first night that I have felt alive in three years. Like you said, I cannot change my past but I am responsible for my future.

The accident gave me a new face. Heck even because of the pregnancy, my body looks different to me."

She looked at me quizzically. I colored, "I don't want to talk about it. Forget I just said that."

It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. But I think she knew because she tried to repress a smirk.

Of course I was referring the fact that as a result of my short exposure to the hormones of pregnancy, my breast tissue had changed; in preparation to produce milk, the tissue had grown. After the termination of my pregnancy they had remained firm and much larger. My areolae were still a plum color. Even my nipples remained plump and semi-erect much of the time. Most women have their breasts return to normal. Some don't. Maybe because of the way my pregnancy was interrupted, mine had just stayed the way they were. I had learned to deal with them and wear padded bras much of the time. Tonight my decision to go out without wearing any underwear underneath my little black dress had resulted in much embarrassment on several occasions.

I laughed and swatted her arm, "Shut up!"

She broke out into a laughing fit that I joined.

It was so nice to have a good laugh with a friend after the tension of the evening!

Another chime sounded announcing our salad.

It was a blood-orange, beet, and fennel salad and looked like a culinary dream.

I started to eat it and stated after some more thought, "I have been so busy mourning the things that I lost and can never replace. I think that is what I meant when I said I have been living like a ghost. Like a displaced spirit; instead of living, I have been mourning my lost looks, friendship, even on a subconscious level, my baby." She made a clucking-intake sound with her mouth at that.

I looked at her. "Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw the changes from my former appearance. The first time I saw my face, I was all bandaged and when they took the bandages off, I was still swollen and discolored. The surgeries to repair the damage lasted over a year and I have equated the changes in my face with the bruising and swellings and have been superimposing them over my healed face. I was completely disassociated with who I am and who I was. I haven't been able to connect with the person I see in the mirror."

Again she clucked her tongue at me in sympathy and started to caress my forearm lightly with her hand.

I was in the self-discovery zone and it barely registered that she was touching me so softly.

"But tonight when I made an effort to make myself pretty, I made a turn. I looked in the mirror tonight and liked who I saw for the first time since the accident. My new haircut and the fact that all of the scars have faded allowed me to regard myself from outside myself."

She smiled at me warmly, "Yes, Peter did outstanding work on you."

I was puzzled and paused with the fork halfway to my mouth, "You know Dr. Chapman?"

She replied, "Peter Chapman is one of the premier plastic reconstruction and cosmetic surgeons in the world. He is based out of Los Angeles. How did you think he came to work on you?"

I had never thought to look my gift horse in the mouth and I was floored. "You arranged for him to repair my face?"

She nodded and smiled, "You are one of the ways I have tried to redeem myself for the things I have done in my past. I saw your photos from before the accident and felt I had to do what I could for you."

I felt stunned by her generosity. "My unknown benefactor has made herself known. Thank you so much!"

"Lynne, please! You of all people can understand doing something and not wanting recognition. But, you are very welcome. It is my pleasure to see you thrive. Peter is not only an excellent surgeon, he is an accomplished artist. He did do outstanding work on you. You are lovely!"

I did not know how to respond, so I made a joke, "Maybe I can change my name to Galatea."

She snorted, "Don't you dare! That would make me Pygmalion! I won't have anyone call me a pig!"

We clinked our glasses together enjoying our verbal play, and emptied them.

"Ready for the next course?" She asked.

"How many courses are there? I am not full, but I shouldn't overeat since I've already had so much to drink tonight."

After my cathartic cry, I was feeling simply warm and cozy instead of drunk, but if I moved my head fast enough, the room would spin a little.

"Five including dessert; so next course, then the main, and then the piece-de-resistance!"

As she reached over to signal the next course, I reached for the bottle noting that it was halfway empty and refilled our glasses. I didn't do too badly. I purposely filled her glass to a higher level than mine.

She leaned back in her chair and regarded the glasses side by side. She crossed her arms over her exquisite breasts and asked me.

"Lynne McKinney! Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Don't know anybody named Lynne." I replied with mock innocence. "My name is Frances. "

I purposefully used my unused primary name because I didn't think anyone could like it. I had hated it ever since I was a little girl because other kids would make fun of me by rhyming "Franny" with embarrassing body parts. Fran wasn't much better so I became Lynne at an early age.

Anya exclaimed, "I like it: 'Frahn-sis' It is beautiful."

I was stunned. Her accent made it special.

"What is that name to you, did you just randomly pick it?"

I told her, "It is my given name. My full name is Frances Lynne McKinney."

She said," it is lovely, you are my Frances! It will be your name just for me?"

"I don't use it for anyone else. Frances is all yours."

*****

I had tried to avoid two women already in my past with catastrophic and life-changing consequences. One was the young bisexual girl who was secretly in love with me and clumsily tried to seduce me thereby driving me straight into an unwed pregnancy. The other was the drunken woman driver who ran my car off the road involving me in a catastrophic accident that made me lose my baby and the appearance with which I had been born.

I may be a slow study but I didn't think that I would be swerving to avoid this lovely lady whom fate had seen fit to place directly in my life's path. Avoidance seemed to be on the lesson plan and experience taught that it was the path to disaster.

Yes, I was starting to get flirty again on purpose. The danger was still there and very real, but since I realized that I could let go of the past, I was a new person. I was tired of wanting things the way they used to be, of not feeling anything about anyone or anything. I liked the person I saw in the mirror.

I did not know what future Frances was going to find, but it was going to be my future that I embraced: not a dead woman's dreams that had died, not in an auto accident, but before that with the reflexive rejection of a friend and in the embrace of a stranger.

If my auto accident had been the funeral, the wailing I had experienced earlier in the evening had been an exorcism of Lynne's spirit that hadn't realized she had been dead for three years. I released her and felt the chains fall away.

I was reborn and about to take my first steps into a new world. I knew it was ok to stumble and fall but I would have someone there to catch me up and wipe away my tears and gently encourage me to keep trying. I was scared to death and vitally excited at the same time.

(Continued in Mood Ring Ch. 06)

(Ch.'s 04 and 05 tell the story thus far from Anya's POV)



Mood Ring Ch. 04



A low chime announced the arrival of the third course. I let it sit in the dumbwaiter for now and looked across the table at my companion and smiled warmly as she spoke. Her words had chilled me on the inside. I hope it didn't show in my smile.

She had unknowingly revealed to me that she had been suffering from low-grade posttraumatic stress disorder or at least a minor depersonalization disorder (I am a neurologist, psychology wasn't my specialty and the finer points of difference escaped me right then) for the last three years and none of us that knew her or cared for her had ever suspected.

Looking back at the facts, I cursed myself for my carelessness and how I had mismanaged the care of this remarkable young woman. Her symptoms appeared to be minor and a natural result of her catastrophic experiences. It was not too late; I could still make sure that she got the care that she needed.

If I didn't devour her before-hand that is. 

Not literally of course. I guess I have to say that since there is so much interest in the occult and vampirism and such in literature these days. I can understand the eroticism of the power and seduction and how arousing being a helpless victim can be while someone else brings you painful ecstasy. I had gone through my BDSM phase early in my lesbian life. However, after the initial kink had worn off, I found myself on the Dom side of the equation. After the experience of my failed marriage in which I had endured being a victim for 8 years, I found that I had real problems with allowing myself to submit to anyone. I trained as a Dom; it was the power over other people that really was erotic for me. But after a while I began to feel real disgust for my subs. It had only made me more popular. I have a tattoo of the Graoully dragon on my left shoulder and I was popularly known as "the Dragon Lady." I know: a bit cliché, but there was an actual reason for this banal nickname

One day, I was training a bottom when I found myself enraged that they would be so weak as to use our safe-word. The look of fear in her eyes as she whimpered made me realize that I had carried the punishment too far. I broke down in tears, apologized and ended the session and my involvement. I realized that I had to get some psychological help. 

There is nothing wrong with BDSM for healthy people that are engaged in it. I however realized that I was reliving the control of my marriage and playing the role of René, my ex-husband. Instead of dealing with my abuse in a healthy way, I was becoming the abuser but only in a sanitized and repackaged role.

I needed to deal with my own demons before I could be involved in a healthy relationship again.

I went through counseling and we explored my feelings of helplessness and why I had to have control. It made me look at myself in an objective way and I realized that at the core was a self-loathing of myself. I loathed myself for being weak, allowing myself to get entangled in an abusive relationship and for being both a victim and predator; for allowing through my actions and inaction people, families, and businesses to be destroyed by my husband and eventually for causing pain in others. 

I was born Anneke Poncelet in Metz the capital of Lorraine. The Poncelets are an old family and our most famous member was a mathematician and engineer in the Napoleonic era. In an interesting side note, thanks to my distinguished ancestor, a poncelet was a French unit of power that was replaced by the metric horsepower. Power is a theme in my personal life.

You can call me a Messine which is the name by which residents of Metz are known. My home city is a beautiful European jewel and is nicknamed "La Ville Verte (The Green City)" because of the extensive gardens and parks that crown this beautiful place. The Graoully dragon is its symbol and when I was 18, I got a tattoo of it on my left shoulder to show my civic pride in my heritage. The city and area has been inhabited for over 3,000 years and has been at a territorial crossroad and passed through so many hands over the years that today, the population is rich and diverse. I had a lovely childhood. My accent is a product of my cultural diversity and has a somewhat Dutch sound to it. Most Americans hear me talk and assume it is a French accent, but I have spent much time in the various cultural centers of Europe; it is reflected in my accent. 

When I was 18, I met my husband through family connections. René Beauchamp was an English Baron which although made him only minor nobility, made me a Baroness and a true Lady (The Right Honorable the Lady Beauchamp) when we married. I was allowed to retain the title after the divorce. I am officially known as Anneke, Lady Beauchamp as I do not have peerage in my own right. It is proper to address me as Lady Beauchamp. His family had invaded England with the Norman Invasion in 1066 hence the French looking family name. The anglicized pronunciation of Beauchamp is "Beecham." It confuses a lot of people. 

We were married when I was 24 and had just graduated medical school. I wanted to heal the world. I always had a docile, gentle nature and was flattered and overwhelmed by the debonair and handsome René. Like all pathological personalities, he was utterly charming. René was a sociopath and I was snared easily. His ability to stay calm and in control and his intelligence had me madly in love with him

I was allowed to practice médecine. I think René found me more attractive as his possession because of my success as a surgeon. I thank God: it is the one thing that tethered me and enabled my recovery. However, otherwise I was isolated and controlled. At first René claimed that it was for my own protection and I accepted my gilded cage gladly. All my needs were taken care of. I had a driver and bodyguard (caretaker) and I was watched 24 hours a day. I never realized until I tried to leave.

It wasn't until we had been married for three years that my dream of a happy marriage became a nightmare that would not end.

René began to use me more and more as a prop in his business schemes. It took those few years for me to realize that he was using me as an enticement for some of his clients and business partners and one night, the line was finally crossed.

We were on board a completely fabulous yacht and were attending a dinner party. It was being given for some Captain of Industry's marriage. René told me that there was a very lucrative contract being propositioned and we were here not only to celebrate, but also to get the contract signed. Closing this contract would be very good for his business and as a result, we would go on a shopping spree in Milan and vacation for the next week as my reward. But I had to do my part this time.

I was confused because I had never been asked to take part in any of René's schemes before. I was wary. He had bragged to me how he had ruined people and businesses before, but I rationalized it as just over-exaggeration or a necessary part of business and did not involve me. That night something had changed in our relationship and I sensed we didn't have an equal partnership anymore. I never knew that it never had been equal until it was all over.

As it turns out, the business magnate was in his seventies and the marriage was a business arrangement to ally two families. (I did not connect any similarities to my marriage at the time) René explained to me that his partner in this venture was old and impotent, but had certain proclivities. The new wife was a lesbian and as part of a three-way business arrangement, René had to provide something for the marriage. I was to be the wedding-night gift.

I refused! No, I would not do it. René slapped me for the first time and told me that I would damn well do it because so much was riding on the consummation. It was the first time he hit me but the last time he slapped me in the face. He bloodied my nose and it almost upset the deal.

AIjele however must have had some mothering-complex triggered by my injury and was very gentle with me. She was about my age and very pretty. She was an Israeli and had raven dark hair and expressive brown eyes. Although I was very nervous and frightened, she managed to calm me and made gentle sweet love to me. Despite the circumstances, my first lesbian encounter was a generally positive experience. It was the surrounding circumstances that made me feel like property.

René praised me for my contribution to the family business. I felt like a whore.

It was a few months before René ordered me into action again. This time, it was a blackmail seduction scheme. The owner of a property had refused to sell to René and he had probed until he found a weakness. The owner's wife was a lesbian and this information would be damaging to the man's status in his society. I was told to seduce her and photos would be taken. My identity would be masked, but the pictures were to be used as pressure in the "negotiation."

With my blonde hair and blue eyes and lithe figure, apparently I had a real talent for seduction. I was exploited by René for the next five years. I used my talent to break apart marriages and seduce wives into leaving their husbands. Everything was kept on the hush and the scheme worked until I simply had had enough.

I had been docile and compliant but on the inside I was dying a slow death. Part of me enjoyed the sexual encounters and I had become quite skilled at making love to women. René developed a growing jealousy and every episode earned me praise and a beating so I "didn't like it too much."

I truly realized that I was just a pawn in his manipulative schemes when he not only continually risked my life, but also my long-term health in pursuit if his "god" money. 

One of my targets was a kingpin's wife who was also very into the bodybuilding-fitness world. He hired a personal trainer for me and started me on an anabolic steroid regimen in order to make me fit the part. He told me it was for my own good and that it would be a healthy pursuit; no harm done. The steroids did make me put on muscle quickly and they were accentuated by my naturally lissome frame. I began to train with my mark and accomplished the frame and dissolution of yet another business and marriage. The poor woman wanted to marry me and as soon as she divorced her husband for me, I abandoned her per the plan.

What René did not appear to plan for or expect was the effect that the steroids would have on my body. On the few months that I took them, they lowered my voice, caused hair to sprout on my face and chest, mild acne, and my beautiful breasts to decrease in size. The drugs had another masculinization effect in the thickening of the bones of my jaw and forehead. In addition, the steroids caused my clitoris to grow really huge. My clit had been big anyway and now it would grow into a mini erection when I was sexually aroused. The steroids greatly increased my sex-drive and while I was seducing the poor woman, I could find refuge in the sex. I had become a part of the fitness world and everything seemed comparatively normal to me regarding the sexual masculinization and the pursuit of bigger muscles.

However, when the affair was over and now, I was still afflicted with the side effects even after quitting the work-out regimen and drugs. My musculature quickly shrunk, but I was left with the manly bones in my face, the hair growth and a deep voice. I was overwhelmed with depression. I had always prided myself on my feminine charms.

René realized that he was on the verge of losing his secret negotiation tool and searched the world for the best plastic surgeon. I met Peter Chapman for the first time when he treated me and restored my lost femininity. Peter was truly brilliant and corrected everything that was taken from me by René's reckless pursuit of business. The only thing that was never changed back was my enlarged clitoris. René's perverted schemes were actually facilitated by my new hidden sexual asset. I learned to make my deeper voice sound sultry like the iconic movie stars and seduction actually became easier. 

However, once the harm was corrected, I was done risking my life and my health for money. It took another couple of assignments for me to work up the nerve and courage to make my stand. I realized that part of me was enjoying everything too much and sooner or later, I would end up dead if I did not quit.

When I refused to continue is when I ended up in the hospital with broken ribs and a broken arm. I realized that René was becoming increasingly violent and next time he might kill me.

While I was in the hospital, René had to leave to secure a threatened Romanian connection and left me with my bodyguard (warden). Vincent was loyal to René but he couldn't maintain a 24-hour vigil. I waited until he thought I was asleep for the night; he would leave the room for about one-and-one half hours. I summoned my nurse and she put me in contact with a lawyer she knew who specialized in high society divorces. Her advice was to continue until her private investigator could amass enough information to bring leverage against René. I was given a SIM card and told to check in in two months.

It was the longest two months in my life. I didn't know how good the investigator was and could not believe that my present miserable situation would ever end.

When I checked in, I was told that I had to get myself away somehow and to follow these directions to a safe place. 

The divorce was over fairly quickly. The investigator had been a former Interpol agent and there was already a case file that was overflowing on René. René had avoided prison for years because he had some high level connection that over whom; God only knows what kind of dirt he was holding. However, this connection had a very dim view of spousal abuse and the negotiations went quickly. I suspect this was just another failed business venture to René that had been lucrative while it lasted, but was in the end disposable. I chose some of the details to specifically hurt René as I knew that loss of possessions myself included, were his Achilles heel. As a result, I have the equivalent of several millions of dollars in various accounts, a chalet in Switzerland and villa in Italy that I cannot visit until 7 years have passed from the settlement of the divorce. One of the conditions was that I was to disappear from Europe so as not to embarrass René or impact any future business prospects.

Apparently my dragon tattoo was very famous and could not be publicly connected to René. The provisions were fine with me. Without René's protection, I am sure there were many jilted and vengeful husbands that wanted to punish me for the role I played in their losses.

It was an inadvertent and fortuitous occurrence of fate that re-established my protection without further damaging my karma.

I was working in New York City when a Russian was brought in. He had been brutally attacked and beaten in the head. I had been working in trauma neurosurgery and studying the effect of damage from the toxic free-radicals released from injuries. I theorized that if somehow they could be prevented from attacking the healthy cells, the damage of the injury would be mitigated and the patient's recovery could be enhanced.

Sergei received my treatment and was the first patient to respond positively.

One year after I released Sergei, I received an invitation to Le Chat Noir. It was a personal and personally delivered invitation and despite my paranoia; (I was sure this was going to be the coup I had been expecting from René) I was intrigued enough make an appearance. I was tired of living life looking always over my shoulder. I was barely keeping my head above water trying to balance good works with the guilt that I had accumulated. If this was my passage from my tortured life, I would welcome it gladly.

Ivan the owner of the establishment was the owner of this unique and very exclusive establishment. He revealed that he and Sergei were secret lovers and he could not adequately express his gratitude for my returning his dear man back to him. I tried to dismiss it as my pleasure and that the gratification of success was enough for me. He told me nonsense and having had enough exposure to criminally run enterprises, I realized that rebuffing any generosity would be a bad idea.

Ivan wanted to make me an exclusive surgeon for his contacts and as lucrative as that would have been to me, I did not need the money or the bad karma. I was trying to expiate my sins and knowingly saving mobsters and allowing them to continue their exploitive activities was distasteful to me to say the least.

We negotiated as I had a big marker of gratitude from Ivan. I still had to be diplomatic, but I sold my work for the good of humanity as too big for me to ignore (BIG sigh of relief, he agreed) but, I was granted official protection and that was hugely valuable to me. I no longer had to worry about not waking up or waking up to a smothering pillow and a gun shot.

I was 33 years old and finally free from having to lead a careful and watchful life. I went wild for about two years and the Dragon Lady was born and retired. 

At 35, I was spent from excess in my private life and although I still devoted myself to the practice of médecine, I needed a change in my lifestyle. So, I packed up all of my considerable belongings and moved south to a city where I could flee my former life. It was a coincidence that it was the same city that hosted Le Chat Noir, the establishment in which I found myself tonight, as I had been offered a two year contract at a high level trauma hospital destination.

After all the harm I had witnessed, I realized that by perfecting my talents, I would be able to bring good into this world and balance the evil that I had witnessed and inadvertently been a part of.

Lynne McKinney was a case that tugged at my heart strings and I was blessed to bring my talent and techniques to play with her. She had been run off the road by a drunk driver and I was on call. I arrived to the hospital and examined my stabilized patient. I looked at the images of her brain and realized that she was the perfect candidate for my hypothermic technique, the same that had saved Sergei. She had a severe concussion but the most critical damage was confined to facial injuries. (and such a shame too, I saw pictures of her from before the accident and she was gorgeous!) The facial fractures allowed the brain to swell without strangulating the tissue so I did not need to "trephine" her skull which would have only increased the possibility of complication. Her brain tissue itself, while assaulted, did not show any bruising or gross damage. I felt that if I could control the toxic damage, she might have a full recovery. The only complication was that a blood test revealed that she was pregnant. She miscarried while I was debating the procedure and I realized that I had a green light to stop damage.

I kept her in a coma for about one month and would stop by to visit at the odd hour. I ran into her family often but sometimes when there was no one else, a very pretty blonde girl would come and sit with her for a few hours a day. I introduced myself as I was very curious who this young woman could be. No boyfriend or husband or potential father for Lynne's baby ever came to visit or see her, but this girl was devoted. I was quite intrigued in the social aspects of this case.

Slowly Haley opened up to me and confided in me that she loved Lynne and they had been friends until something terrible happened and now "it was too late for (her) to repair the damage." My heart went out to the young lovers. I tried to reassure her that everything would work out, but all of a sudden, she stopped coming to see Lynne. The nurse told me that there had been a scene and little Haley had been forbidden from visiting her love. Such tragic happenings, I decided that I would do whatever I could to make this poor girl's life approach normalcy again. The accident had not damaged her brain as far as I could determine, but her appearance had drastically altered. For a former model to suddenly become misshapen and grotesque, I could only imagine what psychological damage would result. I knew what to do.




Mood Ring Ch. 05



I had linked my arm in hers as we were exiting the building. I had been joking about her unsteadiness, but in reality, my companion was a little wobbly. The cute little red-haired girl (I thought of her as a little girl but in reality, she was almost as tall as I am in her heels and I am a flat-footed 6'1". And her body? Definitely not a little girl's body! I could feel her rather large but perky breasts jiggle against my arm as we walked. They were magnificent and the lacy black fabric of her dress did little to conceal that she was braless and evidently enjoying our tactile contact as her nipples were quite pronounced and erect. Yes, I did that.) Anyway, momentarily sidetracked by her nubile body, my apologies, this cute red-haired woman had confided to me that she had had too much to drink and did not feel comfortable driving home. A good call, I told her not to worry and I would make sure she got home safely. She was an ER nurse in the hospital in which I worked as a trauma surgeon. We had met three years ago when I treated her after she had been involved in a life-altering car accident. We had some history together and I felt responsible for her safety on several levels.

She stopped us at a red little sports car; hers and she wanted to make sure she had locked it before I drove her home. If she was a sports car lover, she was about to have a real treat. I often drive a Maserati Granturismo MC, one of my ex-husband René's prized possessions that I had liberated from him when I divorced him and gained my freedom from our marriage which had been a living hell for me. My ex-husband was an English Baron which by right of marriage made me a Lady Baroness. I am Anneke, Lady Beauchamp. He also was a crafty and manipulative person with no scruples or loyalties to anyone but himself. Being a sociopath made him a very successful businessman, a deplorable husband, and me very rich from the divorce settlement.

Her little car beeped and flickered its yellow corner flashers. Good to go. I had parked at the far end of the parking lot so some lout would not be tempted to scratch or dent my paint. Sure enough one of the local "red-necks" had parked his filthy large truck next to my poor little automobile. Lynne looked down the row as we approached and joked about me being the owner of the truck. I was amused by her wit and told her that I actually did own a "pick-up" but I would take care of mine. I suggested that I didn't need large artificial machinery to make up for a lack of penis and that I took care of things I value. I am not sure if she completely picked up on the not-so subtle double-entendre. Oh well, can't win them all.

I stopped us in front of my car and went digging in my purse for my remote. She was salivating over the car and made a strange comment. I don't think she realized that I owned the car because she said, "Wow, this is sex on four wheels. I bet the owner gets a lot of action because this is a pussy magnet without a doubt. Its owner already has me hot and bothered!"

I just can't believe as shy as she was that she would make a candid admission like that to me if she knew I owned the "sex-machine" or if she knew that I could sense her arousal. I looked over at her and she jumped just realizing that she may have said something indelicate. I guess she was more than a little drunk. She apologized as I triggered my remote and the car came to life.

If she only knew the truth of the matter; the car was a powerful seduction tool. First, René had used it for such purpose and after the divorce and I was able to live without the fear of being murdered because of protection by the Russian mob, I had used it to seduce many women in New York for my carnal pleasure. Indeed it was a "pussy magnet."

When she realized that this was my car, all embarrassment was forgotten and she became animatedly excited by the prospect of being allowed to ride in my supercar. I found myself enamored of her easy sincerity and genuine demeanor.

Her candidness allowed me to approach her without calculation although I left out the part about my use of it as a tool of seduction. "It was my ex-husband's and you are right, it is a 'pussy magnet.' One of the many reasons I divorced him was his inability to keep his penis in his pants. I am sure he replaced it with a more expensive vehicle, but this was one of his favorite seduction tools and I decided to deprive him of it. 

But that is all in the past and although I no longer love him, I love this car!"

She allowed me to guide her to the passenger seat and place her in the seat. I am not 100 percent sure, but as she got in the car she accidently flashed me. Her dress had a mini-skirt and I do not think she was wearing any panties. I could swear that I saw a little glint as if her vagina was moist, but I could not be sure; the light was not good in this corner of the parking lot. She did not do flash me on purpose to excite me and I found that all the more stimulating. Her innocence excited me and I could feel the early heaviness of arousal in my labia at this point. I was having so much fun this evening. I did not want it to end.

I got in, turned the key and started my car which responded with its throaty growl and turned to my gorgeous companion and said, "It is still early. Have you eaten anything? Because I am starving. But I can take you home if you are feeling tired." I so hoped that she would spend more of the evening with me.

She replied that she was famished and I knew just what to do. Le Chat Noir was a very exclusive, very private establishment that has been a high-class bordello in its not so distant past. Its owner Ivan was the Russian mobster whose gay-lover's life I had saved by my ground-breaking technique that prevented brain damage in very select cases of traumatic brain injury. He had responded to the controversial treatment and I had earned Ivan's respect and gratitude, and the protection of the Russian mafia without again becoming a pawn in the organized crime world. Ironically, it was that same technique that had delivered the vibrant young woman sitting in the seat beside me. Life is a funny string of coincidences.

I placed the call and made the arrangements. I slipped into Russian so Lynne wouldn't know the details. I wanted to surprise her. Le Chat Noir had some rather particular rules. They were all designed to protect the anonymity of the clientele as figures of politics and crime both made use of the facilities. And really is there much of a difference between the two? Trysts of all types were kept here and anonymity was assured and enforced. Deals were brokered and fortunes made and lost in the rooms of the Black Cat. It was a powerful establishment. I had rarely used it, but I could be sure that Ivan would be sympathetic with my purpose of seducing this lovely woman.

It was arranged. All I had to do was guarantee to pay for the tab of not only my dinner, but of Anton, Ivan's gay nephew and Robert his lover. I had met both boys in passing several years ago and they were gorgeous examples of masculinity. No one suspected their romantic affiliation. Layers of trust from Ivan and I could only be thankful for the fates that had delivered Sergei when I had been on call. It had set my life free.

The boys were to be our escorts and normalcy was the bar which made the Black Cat unique. Unless you were one of the select and invited, Le Chat Noir was just a private and exclusive dining establishment, an appearance that was enforced to the point of assassination (rarely). I was placing a lot of trust in Lynne, but I knew that my investment in her was a good one. I had worked with her for the last 6 months and I knew her history spanning three years. She was confidential and I know she did not engage in gossip. She knew enough about so many people and kept confidentiality as a life vocation. Her private life was very dramatic and yet, she did not reveal to anyone the multiple crosses that I knew she had to be bearing.

OK Lynne. It is arranged. You are in for a treat. Ready?"

She nodded and I revved the engine which responded with a throaty roar. I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively and said, "Put your seatbelt on ma Cherie."

She giggled and as soon as she clicked in, I pulled smoothly out from the parking space and we drove off.

I chatted to her about the joy of driving a quality automobile and then about travelling in Italy. I owned a villa on Lake Como and I described the relaxed Italian lifestyle. She seemed to relax, had a giggle fit over something she would not disclose, and had almost dozed off when I pulled into the hotel at which I had agreed to meet Ivan's nephew and his lover. She was charming.

She thought we were going to eat dinner at the steak-house hotel restaurant. While it was good, it did not have the intimate atmosphere that I desired. I made the hotel the location for our rendezvous as I wanted to leave my car in a secure location and the valet service at this particular hotel was quite good. I knew my baby would be well taken care of. We went to the bar and I ordered two whiskeys. Lynne almost panicked as she had already had much alcohol and she was apparently not an accomplished drinker (a fact that made her more appealing to me) I told her it was a prop so our dates would know us from the crowd. She did not even have to consume the drink; only hold it as the boys were told to look for two tall attractive ladies, a blonde and a red-hair girl holding whiskey glasses.

We had been small-talking for about 15 minutes when Lynne stopped talking to me mid-speech. I looked and noticed that Robert and Anton had arrived. She was transfixed by them and I was admittedly a little bit jealous. I closed her dropped jaw and told her that these were our dates for the evening.

She appeared to get along very well with Robert. Both Anton and Robert were gentlemen of the first degree and I knew it would be a treat for Lynne to experience some respectful attention after the night's unfortunate series of events so far. She deserved the royal treatment and I thanked fate that her date for the next hour was gay.

We talked and chatted for a bit; Anton was a polite well-mannered young man and the hour passed quickly. I noticed the passage of time and interrupted Lynne's tête à tête with the gorgeous Robert and suggested we leave.

The poor dear, she had gotten so enamored by the engaging Robert that she had unwittingly downed the prop whiskey and was now obviously quite intoxicated; both by the company and from the liquor. Still, she was a classy lady and did not do anything to embarrass us. I could note her glassy eyes, wobbly gait, and the fact that she was very giggly. It was adorable. She was utterly charming and it made me more infatuated with this young woman.

I purposefully allowed Robert and Lynne to precede Anton and myself because I admit it; I wanted to view her shapely derriere while we walked to our transportation. She had a narrow waist and the black mini-skirt of her dress defined her generous ass cheeks. Look up "callipygian" in the dictionary and a photo of Lynne's buttocks would be the illustration. Anton laughed at me and told me that I was very bad. He knew my tendencies and reputation as the famous (and infamous in Europe) Dragon Lady. Very few people in this town knew that I had had a short side-career as a Dominatrix who was quite popular with lesbians in New York. I had fled that lifestyle because I had realized that I was reliving my abusive marriage in my sessions and I was burning myself out in the process. I moved south, got some psychotherapy and put my social and sexual life on hold until I recovered. 

As we approached our Limousine, I overheard Lynne ask Robert in a loud whisper "Is that for us?"

I smiled at her innocence and child-like excitement. I had gotten very jaded with social life and had been pampered for so long that I expected privilege rather than appreciated it. To see someone awed by the finer things in life was refreshing. I felt renewed by little Ms. McKinney. I think that courting her would be very good for me.

She approached the limo and hesitated before smoothly sitting and pivoting. I realized that she was aware that she was very drunk and was self-conscious about not wearing any panties. There would be no public indecent exposure for this lady. I was wearing crème-colored slacks and jacket. I had no worries, about flashing anyone and although my floral print silk camisole was see-through, the jacket concealed all but the lace swath framing and partially concealing my slight cleavage.

I scooted in to sit next to Lynne and could not resist the urge to touch her and clasped hands with her. I leaned back in my seat and regarded her rather frankly. In the dim light of the Limousine's interior, she was beautiful. I had seen her right after her car accident when I was the on-call trauma surgeon. The damage to her face was catastrophic. Her left cheek had been torn and her nose severely broken, but it was the damage to the facial bones that was truly horrifying. Her jaw had been fractured in multiple breaks and the arch and orbit of her left eye were crushed. I was the expert regarding the damage to her brain from the concussion and was confident that I could mitigate all of the damage after I looked at the CT and MRI scans. Despite the terrible damage to her face, her brain was remarkably uninjured. The maxillofacial surgeon did a wonderful job of piecing her back together, but I could tell that her beauty had been permanently marred. This former model was in for a shock when she awoke.

I kept her in a coma for about one and a half months to give her brain time to heal and for the facial injuries to knit, but when she woke she still had swelling and discoloration because the repair to the bones of her face had to be done in stages because of the initial swelling. The symmetry of her face was ruined and my heart went out to her. She had suffered so much loss. She was 10 weeks pregnant and had miscarried not long after arriving to the center; the father never came to visit. Her pretty girlfriend came to visit often and I got to know little Haley. She never clarified their relationship but confided in me that she was in love with Lynne but they had had some kind of falling out. She was run off by the family after some kind of drama. I naturally assumed they were lovers and the family was not happy about it.

I decided that I would do what I could for this unfortunate woman. I had ruined enough people, I had a huge karmic debt to settle and helping this disfigured model regain some of her beauty would be a step in the right direction.

I knew Dr. Peter Chapman, probably the most talented plastic and reconstructive surgeon practicing and placed a call that had him fly out to consult on this case. He took it as a personal challenge and I was admiring the magnificent result in the dim interior lights of the Limo.

I do not think she even noticed that I was candidly scrutinizing her as she was commenting on the fountain sculpture in the front of the hotel. It was a modern abstract piece and although I do not care for much of modern art, it had a certain amount of grace. Robert educated her about modern art and she displayed her open mind and intelligence by drawing a parallel between modern art and performance pieces.

The Limo ride was short and I could tell that it took several circuitous routes and changes of direction. Le Chat Noir had clientele that desired anonymity and the house rules were followed for every guest, no exceptions. I of course knew where the establishment was located and found the car ride a bit much, but like I said; no exceptions. I guess it was good business to play to the ego of the super-rich and powerful and if they felt more secure by all of the cloak-and-dagger bullshit, so be it.

We got out and entered the building and I quickly dismissed the boys. I wanted little Ms. McKinney to myself. She was shy, but she was sending all of the right signals. I had been around her enough to know she did not have a boyfriend. In fact, I had never heard that anyone had been rumored to be in a relationship with her since the accident. Why this beautiful young lady wasn't attached was an enigma to me. I was no longer her instructor and not her immediate supervisor, so there should be no impediments to our romantic involvement with each other. I determined to court this woman as I found her simply scrumptious. She did seem to have a fragile quality to her, but I thought to myself that if I approached her gently everything would be OK.

As soon as we were alone in the parlour, I thanked her for trusting me and letting me surprise her. I hadn't explained many of the details of the late evening and Lynne had allowed me to guide her through Ivan's complicated and unnecessary house rules without any complaint or questions.

She simply smiled at me sweetly and I went over to the address and announced my presence. A door opened in response and we walked down a hallway together. At the end of the hallway, a wrought iron circular stairway ascended to the second floor where the dining rooms were. This building has been a whore-house in the past. I mused that it in some ways hadn't changed too much because I am sure that some of Ivan's associates kept trysts here and what are more whorish than shady business deals? But the atmosphere was exactly what I had desired in order to get to know Lynne more intimately. And Ivan employed an excellent cook who was also a first class sommelier. The second floor was where the rooms were located. We would be occupying a small romantic dining room. I think the parlour furnishings were kitschy but good quality. Most Americans seemed to have a fascination with theme park atmospheres. I could see that Lynne was taking it all in with wide wonder. I had been here enough times that it was familiar, not special anymore. But looking at her interest touched my jaded spirit and I found myself enjoying the atmosphere as well.

She stopped and supported herself by resting an arm on mine as she reached down and took her heels off. I could smell her vanilla and sandalwood scent and thought about embracing her there and really snogging her good, but I remembered how she had frozen up when I kissed her in the restaurant and decided against it. I am not sure how a surprise would be received here and I wanted to be gentle with her instead of forceful. We ascended the stairway and mindful of her state of inebriation, I closed with her so she would not lose her balance and fall backwards. The stairway was so steep that I found my face almost in her ass. Not working like I had intended; if she stumbled I did not have much of a chance of catching her. We would both tumble, but it was the thought that counted. Not only that, but so close to the hem of her mini-skirt I could smell a scent that I hadn't encountered in over three years. I confirmed she wasn't wearing any underwear because I could smell the unmistakable scent of a sexually aroused woman wafting from her noune. She was a little bit naturally musky but sweet with just a hint of cumin and faintly like sweat. She smelled like she cared about her hygiene. I was instantly turned onto her frequency. Smells are powerful and Lynne's pheromones were singing to me.

Lynne paused at the open door at the end of the second floor hallway, looked in and exclaimed, "Wow: sensory overload!"

The room was luxurious and very romantic. While I found the parlour to be a bit overdone with the bordello-boudoir theme, Ivan's decorator had pulled out all of the stops for the rooms It was easy to go all romance novel in here. By romance novel, with Lynne's scent still fresh in my nose, I mean of course "Bodice-Ripper" and guess my part. The irony did not escape me. The wicked Dragon Lady was set to seduce the nubile but naïve young maiden. We were even dressed for the parts; I was in a masculine pantsuit and my prey was wearing a (faux) corset dress. But there would be no forced seduction here. If anything happened, while seduction might play a role, everything would be consensual.




Mood Ring Ch. 05



I smiled and conducted Lynne inside, shut the door and asked her if she had been expecting this? Of course I knew she could have no expectations, but I wanted to see her enthusiastic response.

I was not disappointed and Lynne genuinely was amazed by the ambiance. I turned on some background music, there are several files and I just chose one randomly. It was nice classical music so I let it alone.

I realized that I wanted some wine, but I was not sure how much more my companion could take. She appeared to have sobered up and as she took her seat, I asked her, "How do you feel, can I order a bottle of wine or have you had too much?"

She replied, "I have had more to drink tonight than I have had in a long time, but I think wine sounds very nice. I want you to know that I had planned on only having two margaritas, but circumstances ..."

I told her I understood. Events had moved quickly and she had been placed in the position to drink more that she had intended. I did not believe she drank very often at all, but tonight was supposed to be a celebration. I would take care of her safety.

She made some pop culture joke and started to giggle. Well, I think it was obvious she wasn't sober, but her ability to play was enchanting. 

After inquiring about allergies or tastes, she gave me carte blanche to order dinner. She also worded it in a double-entendre suggesting that she was ready to try anything new. I heard it but filed it away.

I placed the order for the "Seduction Selection" in Italian because, well damn, what an embarrassing name. But the courses were tasty. I slipped in and out of languages easily. We traveled around Europe when I grew up and then René had us moving around the continent for business. I did not think anything of the fact that I was fluent in six languages. I just acquired them. I was a very useful tool for René and his schemes.

The wine arrived and I poured us a glass each. I suggested that the wine should breathe before we drank it as it was a good red wine and allowing it to breathe would open up the flavor.

Lynne excused herself to visit the W.C. and I sat thinking as she attended to her freshening up. I was very happy for the first time in an age. Spending time with my young companion had renewed me and touched me in ways that I did not remember were possible. She was very flirty, but seemed unsure about committing interest. She had to know I found her engaging. When she returned I would feel her out a little more. I knew just what to do.

I heard a "Whooop!" from the water closet. She had shocked herself somehow and I presumed that she had turned on the bidet without warming the water first. Oh so funny!

I was trying not to laugh as she came out from behind the dark brown wall hanging that concealed the door and she said, "The drinking fountain was a little hard to drink out of. Why is it so low and close to the toilet?" I laughed at that and asked her if the water was cold? She relied that it was refreshing and I enjoyed her wit. What a bright young lady. I had to raise the bar so I raised my wine glass and proposed a toast.

"For a night for only us women without interruption by men who are brutes when drunk and worse when sober!" Yes, I changed the wording slightly. Yes, she noticed. No, she did not react in any way that I would have predicted.

She sort-of froze with her glass raised. I noticed two things at once; first her ring on the hand holding the upraised glass turned orange, second, she had a deer in the headlights look and stared right at me like she was frightened of me all of a sudden.

I lowered my glass and stood there. She did not move. It was like she had short-circuited. I thought to myself "Oh Merde, I have broken the poor girl." Then the light went off. Lynne was enjoying my attention, but she evidently did not return my attraction. I had placed her in an uncomfortable position and she did not know what to do since I was in a position of power over her. It was fun when we were just suggestively flirting, but when I raised the bar, I forced her like I said I was not going to. Maybe at 38 I was too old for her and this 27 year old was only attracted to younger girls her own age. I had to fix this and now.

I cleared my throat and she jumped slightly like she had reentered her body. "Sit down ma Cherie." I took the glass out of her hand and sat her down. Her green doe-like eyes followed my movements like she would bolt if I moved suddenly.

I then sat next to her crossed my legs and took her hand in mine. She looked like a frightened animal and I needed to soothe her quickly.

I looked down at our clasped hands and broke the silence, "You know, I just watched your mood stones change from a green color right before my toast to an orange one now. I remember the circumstances in which your jewelry was orange earlier. I think I can guess what that means. I owe you an apology. I think I misread you and set in motion events this evening that have made you uncomfortable."

She looked up at me and I realized that she looked like a child that had been caught sneaking goodies from under her mother's inattention. Puzzling.

She said almost so softly in her accented voice "I have a confession of my own."

I did not want to hear that I was an unattractive old lady, so I thought I would reveal what I knew about her and let her know it was OK that she was only attracted to young women.

I broke in with, "I met your girlfriend when you were in a coma."

Again an unexpected reaction. I could not read this girl at all.

She looked at me and blinked her eyes rapidly as if I had just told her that I knew she was a Martian. So I felt the need to explain.

"The pretty blonde haired girl came around every day for a few hours until she was asked to leave by your family. I had spoken to her and she was very upset and told me that she loved you but had made a terrible mistake and now it was too late to fix things. I naturally presumed that you were once lovers."

She looked at me for a few moments and then dropped her head. What was going on here? I then noticed tears falling softly and that she was gently weeping.

"Are you crying? What have I said that has upset you?" I stood her up and embraced her gently. I was a complete fool. I was so indelicate to mention her love from whom she had evidently been estranged under who knows what circumstance. All I could do at this point was offer her comfort and hold her while the sorrow ran its course.

"Let it all out. Women in our profession have to repress a lot of sorrow and when the dam bursts sometimes there is a flood that escapes all at once from the accumulated repressed emotion."

The sobs racked her body and I genuinely felt for her.

She had a good cry. It lasted for about 3 minutes and drenched my jacket shoulder. I think the cashmere would be ruined, but what did I care. I rarely wore the same item of clothing twice and her expression of sorrow was beyond price. If she exorcised some of her demons with it then it was all for the better.

She stopped sobbing and slowly eased out of our embrace. I guided her to sit and then I sat beside her.

She said "I hope I didn't ruin your clothes." And then wiped at her eyes.

Such a sweet thoughtful young woman. I told her, "Clothes are replaceable. I may even never wear this again anyway. Don't beat yourself up for letting your feelings out."

She excused herself to the water closet and I removed my jacket as the damp material was not comfortable. I hung it up to dry and regarded myself in the mirror.

I did not think my 38 years showed. I had avoided much sun exposure in my youth and only lately sported a light tan. I had the beginnings of crow's feet at my eye edges, but I had good genes and a regimen of nightly moisturizer had staved off the obvious effects of aging. My make-up was light but I prided myself in its application. My hair was light blond and I did not have any grey in it yet so it was spared the harshness of colorizing chemicals. I was disappointed in her obvious aversion to my approach, but life is not predictable.

I reached into the loose lace cups of my silk wrap camisole and gave a quick uplift to my humble breasts. The floral print material was very sheer and I always like to present myself neatly. I have always had pert lolos (tits) and again I had been spared the aging effects by genetics. Both women and men had been enamored of my breasts my entire life. Turning both one side then to the other I regarded them critically. They were plump teardrops. By "fluffing" them on their cups, they appeared to defy gravity. Even completely unconfined, there was no sag and just a defining décolletage. I have always been proud of them and they stand proudly on my lithe frame.

I adjusted the sash of the wrap and then sat down while Lynne fixed her appearance.

She emerged from the W.C. and stopped after she cleared the door.

"Dr. Beecham, ..." I am not sure why I reacted so, but I was distraught to hear her relapse into formal address. I desired a friendship with this vibrant young lady and I had ruined everything with my premature approach. I was up and holding her hands before I could think.

"Please call me Anya, now and forever." I was surprised to her an almost begging sound in my voice and realized that this meant more to me than I was aware.

I led her over to the seats and as she looked me in the eyes, she said, "Anya, I haven't been fair or honest with you tonight. I am so sorry. I don't know what I am doing and I did not mean to lead you on. Your attention is exciting but I don't deserve it. 

I need to sit for this."

Well here it was going to come. I think I needed to sit for this also.

"Haley, the pretty blonde wasn't my girlfriend. We were just silly girls that kissed each other for attention in bars so boys would like us. Or so I thought, apparently Haley had feelings for me; I never knew that she visited me. I had cruelly cut her off when she revealed to me that she wanted more than our casual social friendship. I have done some very bad things. I have destroyed the feelings of almost everyone that has had romantic feelings for me without realizing it."

I felt foolish for jumping to that conclusion. Of course Haley's romantic intent had been one-sided. That is why the family ran her off and why she and Lynne had not reunited. As for her "bad things"; such melodrama, I could educate her about bad things. She was so naïve to carry the cross of disappointing people that were infatuated with her. We are not responsible if a person decides they want more than we can give. And if we handle it badly? There is no manual to follow in such things. She was sweet to feel bad about it.

"I have been so numb ever since my accident that I am not even sure that I have true feelings anymore. Tonight is the first time that I have had a good cry since I can remember, and I have a lot to be sorrowful for. I cannot explain what happened when you kissed me. It was very sweet and I enjoyed it, but I don't deserve it. I am afraid that I cannot return your interest like you deserve. You are warm, gentle and a complete lady. I am going to embarrass myself and tell you that I almost idol-worship you."

Wow if only she knew! I could only smile. Her sincerity touched me and I felt a tear develop as I was crucified by her ignorance of who I really was.

"If you were a man and I wasn't such a screwed-up mess, Anya, I would want to marry you. Well, that is maybe jumping to conclusions, but I think you could be perfect for me. But I want to get married and have babies. Two women cannot have that in this world."

OK time to rein this one in. I am pretty sure that at one level, Lynne was interested in women, her body clues were dead giveaways that she was sexually stimulated by our flirting, touching, and teasing. I cynically knew I could seal this deal and have her at my mercy within an hour. But, I wanted this to be her choice and not purely my seduction. However, if I let her reinforce the whole "two women cannot please each other or make love" thought; it was for sure not going to happen. I knew that love takes many different forms. I wanted an equal love relationship myself. I wanted to know what one was like. I would never find it if I manipulated this mild sweet girl to bed. But, if I could appeal to the witty and spirited young woman I could see sitting in front of me, we just might have a chance at true love. But it would have to be on equal footings.

"Lynne, you must understand. I am not someone who just met you in a bar tonight. I know more about your history than most people and I have known you for three years. My attraction to you is not based on just one kiss and some flirty banter. I have watched you during this accreditation course and at work and I know who you are when nobody is watching. You are a kind generous soul. You do good acts without asking for recognition. If I am right recognition would cheapen the gesture?

She nodded at that.

I needed to come clean with her. I could not give a full confession because I did not want to cast down my own image from the pedestal, but at least I could climb down from it for now.

"I am not a saint or someone to idolize. I have done terrible things in my past as well. I have literally destroyed lives through heartlessness. My actions now are to atone for a past littered with broken lives marriages and businesses. I cannot change my past, but I am responsible for my future."

I released my hold on her hands and reached over to my glass. 

I raised it and said, "Allow me to make a new toast. To our future voyage in life; may there always be wind to fill our sails, may our vessel weather any storm in which it finds itself and may we always be able to find a safe harbor." 

We clinked our wine glasses and I drank deeply.

I placed my glass on the table and realized that I was starving. It was time for our first course. I knew my lovely companion was intrigued by my attention and excited by my touch. I was enamored with her and I had prematurely made an indirect but broad approach because I had erroneously concluded that she was an active (even if inexperienced) bisexual and knew what she was doing to me with her flirting charm. Now, I realized that she was a true lesbian tyro. Her clumsy and endearing flirting with me was real interest, but she was very conflicted. She was at the least very curious but was shy. 

I could land this rare and precious catch, but it would take subtlety and all of my skill to do it correctly. I had already spooked her by my bluntness; it wouldn't take any more of my maladroit bungling and she would be lost to me forever: that would not do. I desired to capture her as she had already effortless and unconsciously captured me; with humor, kindness and above all else by giving the selfless gift of open honesty. 

I can't remember ever having tried that approach before.

I noticed a general decrease in the tension in the room. I think putting everything out on the table so to speak allowed us to approach each other on the same level. Lynne had revealed that she was attracted to me but didn't want to disappoint me. I had revealed that I was attracted to her, but she should not hero-worship me.

I still had to be careful. She still seemed a little spooked like a frightened and cornered animal that was just realizing that the calmly talking human might not eat her and that the food being offered smelled good.

I decided to dial back the threat level a bit and redirect the discussion from "us" and focus on her. Maybe through a casual conversation, I could allow her realize that her resistance to a relationship between us was built on several logical fallacies; a "naturalistic assumption" that because two women cannot make a child together means that they cannot make love and have a vital love develop between them, a "slippery slope" assumption that because they cannot make a child that they will break apart if they fall in love, and a "circular argument" that because two women in love cannot make a child together, that they cannot become life partners or get married and raise children together. With the advances in fertility science and the presence of sperm donors, two women could make a baby and share the joy of raising a child together. And, society, while not fully embracing the notion, was becoming more and more receptive to the idea that two men or two women could make vows to commit their lives together.

I said to her, "I am starved let us start our meal. We can continue to talk as we eat." And I reached over to signal to send the first course. It would be a cold cucumber soup with dill. I was ready for it.

I decided to start the conversation in the direction I had chosen. I looked over at Lynne and asked her if I could ask her a personal question. I was still a bit unclear about just how deep her relationship with her blonde girlfriend had been. She described it as casual and social, but something had interrupted it and I was curious why. Haley had come to visit Lynne when she was recovering from her accident and she was distraught with the idea that Lynne was lost to her forever. Were they lovers and Lynne had spooked when Haley approached her about love and commitment? Maybe that was why she immediately rejected the possibility of two women falling in love, because she had already broken that ground once. If she associated that trauma with her accident, no wonder she had lost it when I revealed that I knew about her broken relationship.

She replied to my question, "Anya, you apparently know more about me that anyone else right now, I am an open book to you. I'll let you know if I am uncomfortable with anything you ask me."

"You said you weren't in a serious relationship with Haley, but she acted like a distraught lover when I met her. Your family seemed to think her presence was inappropriate. I know you say you want to marry a man. But I am unclear; are you bisexual?"

I already knew the answer to that even if Lynne didn't. I just had to know how to make my approach.

"NO! Well, maybe; I don't know. Kissing Haley was just for fun until one night when we had been at a bar and, well: I drove her home and we weren't kissing for the attention. It freaked me out so much that I called a guy I had just met and we spent the night together. It happened about two months before my car accident and I haven't thought about it until tonight. I guess until tonight I have been running from it and repressing it."

I asked, "Did you have a boyfriend? "

"No, thankfully I cannot add cheating to the list of things that I carry around to beat myself up with." And she flashed a quick smile. This could not be comfortable for her, but she still had good humor.

Wait! She was pregnant when she had her accident. Two months, I did a quick calculation.

"So that means your baby was a product of that one-night stand? You poor poor little thing! To have to face that on your own. I quickly deduced that your family did not know and made sure that they never found out. Yes, there is a privacy law in effect, but you know as well as I do how people let confidential information slip through because of their ignorance. We estimated about 10 weeks based on the fetus and your body signs. I am so sorry for your loss."

My heart went out to her and I reached over and gently squeezed her forearm to let her know that I truly felt for her. No wonder she broke down when she was reminded about her recovery. 

My words and gesture must have touched her because I noticed a tear well up in her eye, but this was controlled and not the raw emotion that I had witnessed earlier.

"Thank you. It is weird, but in a way I feel like I got a second chance. Having a baby would have made my life very difficult. I could have done it and I am sorry that I lost my baby. I love children but those circumstances absolutely sucked.




Mood Ring Ch. 05



The signal announcing the arrival of our soup chimed softly and I got up to get our platter form the dumbwaiter. The cold soup was well presented on white porcelain and looked very appetizing. I served her and then myself placing the tray back in the dumbwaiter and then rejoining her.

I said, "Bon appétit." And we both began to eat. It was a few minutes before we resumed our conversation. What she said next disturbed me.

"Anya, you know what just occurred to me? Lynne McKinney died in that car accident. I have been a ghost for the past three years."

She must have perceived the concern in my look because she rapidly attempted to explain. 

"No, look at it this way. I am speaking figuratively. Lynne McKinney made some really bad choices right before she was in that accident and I have been trying to deal with them ever since. The thing is; I don't have to. The accident gave me a clean slate so to speak. Tonight is really the first night that I have felt alive in three years. Like you said, I cannot change my past but I am responsible for my future.

The accident gave me a new face. Heck; even because of the pregnancy, my body looks different to me."

OK I admit; I had to think about that one. She saw my brows knit as I tried to imagine how; she blushed and quickly said, "I don't want to talk about it. Forget I just said that." then she swatted my arm playfully exclaiming "Shut up!" as I tried not to smile and failed. I hadn't seen her before the accident but she was so embarrassed that I quickly made the connection. One of the early signs of pregnancy is a change in the breast tissue and nipple. Hers were very prominent and her nipple rise had been one of my first clues that she was excited by my touching her.

I burst out laughing and she joined me. And with that, all of the unspoken tension left the room. It was nice to have everything out.

Another chime signaled the arrival of the second course. It was a blood-orange, beet, and fennel salad. Not only were the colors very attractive, the taste was a mixture of tart and sweet; exciting to the tongue.

Lynne continued with her line of thought. When she said she was speaking figuratively, I relaxed a little bit. 

"I have been so busy mourning the things that I lost and can never replace. I think that is what I meant when I said I have been living like a ghost. Like a displaced spirit; instead of living, I have been mourning my lost looks, friendship, even on a subconscious level, my baby."

Pauvre petite femme! So much loss.

She looked at me and explained further what she had endured, "Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw the changes from my former appearance. The first time I saw my face, I was all bandaged and when they took the bandages off, I was still swollen and discolored. The surgeries to repair the damage lasted over a year and I have equated the changes in my face with the bruising and swellings and have been superimposing them over my healed face. I was completely disassociated with who I am and who I was. I have not been able to connect with who I see in the mirror."

I reached over and started to stroke her forearm in sympathy. I don't think she noticed that I was touching her.

"But tonight when I made an effort to make myself pretty, I made a turn. I looked in the mirror tonight and liked who I saw for the first time since the accident. My new haircut and the fact that all of the scars have faded allowed me to regard myself from outside myself."

I smiled at that, I was proud of Peter's work and my involvement and said, "Yes, Peter did outstanding work on you."

She paused her eating and asked if I knew Dr. Chapman.

Merde! I had made my contribution anonymously. But the cat was out of the bag now.

"Dr. Chapman is one of the premier plastic reconstruction and cosmetic surgeons in the world. He is based out of Los Angeles. How did you think he came to work on you?"

She made the connection and asked, "You arranged for him to repair my face?"

There could be no future if there were any secrets or dishonesty. I had to answer her direct question.

"You are one of the ways I have tried to redeem myself for the things I have done in my past. I saw your photos from before the accident and felt I had to do what I could for you."

"My unknown benefactor has made herself known. Thank you so much!"

I was a bit uncomfortable at the revelation, I had truly meant for it to be a secret, but I suppose it would come out eventually if we made a future together. Still...

"Lynne, please! You of all people can understand doing something and not wanting recognition. But, you are very welcome. It is my pleasure to see you thrive. Peter is not only an excellent surgeon, he is an accomplished artist. He did do outstanding work on you. You are lovely!"

She made it into a joke, "Maybe I can change my name to Galatea."

Outstanding, I think she could sense my discomfort and was easing me. I played along.

"Don't you dare! That would make me Pygmalion! I won't have anyone call me a pig!"

I grabbed my wine glass as did she and spontaneously I made to clink them together non-verbally toasting our companionship and ease of mood.

"Ready for the next course?"

She inquired how many courses there were and I told her. There were five, each one building on the seduction theme. The first two courses were somewhat generic, a cool soup to soothe, followed by a sharp tangy salad to engage the taste-buds. The next dish was an obvious one; Raw oysters, Beef Carpaccio and Yellowtail Tartare with payusnaya caviar.

I would go ahead and signal for it to be sent, but I would have to be sure about not playing my hand too strongly. I had placed the order for the "seduction selection" (despite its stupid name) under the misunderstanding that we were dancing to the same music. 

I reached over to the console and pushed the button. When I turned around, Lynne was filling our glasses. She had already filled hers halfway and was in the process of filling mine.

She filled it to the brim and placed the bottle down. Then she looked over at me with a comically wide-eyed expression of innocence and I had to react.

"Lynne McKinney! Are you trying to get me drunk?

"I don't know anybody named Lynne." she replied. "My name is Frances."

Oh I loved it, what a beautiful name. I told her so. I asked her if she just randomly picked it.

"It is my given name. My full name is Frances Lynne McKinney."

I said, "It is lovely, you are my Frances! It will be your name just for me?"

"No-one else uses it to call me. Frances is all yours."

That she hadn't randomly picked a new name was a good sign. It would always connect her with her past. She also was able to explain why she was numb and remembered all of the things that she had been repressing. Perhaps my fears were groundless. I would have to sift a little more before I tried to reel her into my world. But I was in no hurry. It was a delight to interact with her and she was bringing out feelings in me that I had not realized for anyone before. I was involved with René at a young age and since then my life had been a cold hell. Now I think I could see a new dawn in her sunny smile.

I think everything was back on track. Her fun flirty side had returned but I still needed to remain cautious. I suspected from what she told me about being disconnected from her life and image (understandably) that she had a minor depersonalization disorder. While it had an organic cause, I had to be careful with her so she would not make a complete dissociative break. I am not sure that taking a new name was totally healthy and was a little chilled at the possibility that if I pushed her too hard, she could develop a multiple personality dissociative state. That was totally a worst case scenario, but I was glad that I had mended my ways. The Dragon Lady would have chewed her alive and to Hell with the harm.



Mood Ring Ch. 06



-Author's note: Thank you for having read thus far. For those that have borne with the character development, this is the beginning of the erotic payout.

I have received some really good criticism regarding the constant recap in each chapter. So, I have decided to place the recap in italics to make it easier for my serial readers to choose to skip the redundant content while still retaining the stand-alone nature of the work for first-timers. Thanks for your dedication to the story. I hope you enjoy.

*****

A low chime rang announcing the arrival of our third course. My companion ignored it and simply smiled at me warmly.

I had gained insight into myself this evening and for the first time in three years, I felt everything was going to be alright.

Three years ago when I was 24 years old, I was struck by another car on my way home from work and woke up from a coma with a broken face. I had been living numbly for the last three years because I had made some bad life decisions in the months before the accident and I did not know how to deal with them since. I had not understood. The wreck had not just broken my face; it had repaired my life.

Tonight, I had made a turn. I faced everything and had confided in the woman sitting next to me everything about my life that I had been trying to forget. Unfortunately concealing and denying problems do not make them go away as they will find a way to surface one way or another.

I was ready to embrace my future. Warmly I thought inside that might mean embracing the woman I idolized; Anneke Beauchamp M.D. I had been flirting with her all night.

Well, she started it! Honest.

Out of the blue, she had kissed me on the lips in public and something stirred inside of me. I was smitten and had been flirting with her all night. I had gotten drunk (through no fault of my own. I swear) and it wasn't until I had sobered up a little that I realized that flirting with her was leading somewhere. I hadn't been sure that we were flirting. I was just having fun. I wasn't even sure if she was into women or if she was just behaving in a European manner of a normal friendship between women and my overactive and drunk imagination had made it something more.

About that same time that I had had a dash of cold water on my inebriation (literally) which had dampened my ardor ( again, literally), she decided to play her hand and reveal that she was a lesbian and very interested in me. I freaked out I am afraid. I froze and in her attempt to soothe me, she brought to surface things that I had been burying and not dealing with. She knew everything about me already, but talking to her about the things I had done and was ashamed about had made me feel more free than at any time since before my accident.

I had lightly fooled around with a girlfriend and been called out on it by her. In my attempt to deny that I liked it and her, I slept with a man I had just met. Rashly, we hadn't used any protection and I got pregnant. The night; I had shown positive on a pee test, I had gotten in my accident, lost my baby, and my life had been a bad dream since. I had been carrying around the guilt of all of that for three years when tonight I confessed all to this wonderful lady sitting across from me and realized that I had been freed from my bad choices and the consequences were removed when I had had my accident. I would not have chosen to receive a clean slate at such a price, but indeed, the price had been paid and all I had to do was to accept it.

I believe that Life is full of symbols. In a flash of inspiration, I had made the connection that fleeing women had preluded the two most life-changing accidents I had experienced. One was a young bisexual girl who was secretly in love with me and clumsily tried to seduce me driving me straight into an unwed pregnancy. The other was a drunken woman driver who ran my car off the road involving me in a catastrophic accident that made me lose my baby and the appearance with which I had been born. I may be a slow study but I didn't think that I would be swerving to avoid this lovely lady whom fate had seen fit to place directly in my life's path. Avoidance seemed to be on the lesson plan and experience taught that it was the path to disaster.

We had met up this evening at a Mexican restaurant. She was the specialist instructor of the last class for our Emergency Department's accreditation to State level-one trauma destination. We had all passed and students and teachers were to meet to celebrate. One by one everybody else had had something come up or decided not to arrive and I had waited around to tell my instructors. I was being harassed by some college guys when Anya (Dr. Beauchamp) saved me with a kiss.

I had only ordered two drinks and was going to end the night with that when circumstance made me drink a shot of tequila and a little more than one more margarita; and a whiskey, and a few glasses of wine. I was really drunk, but I still knew what was going on. The drinks had been spaced out over a few hours, so I had plateaued and currently was warmly fuzzy. Oh yes and a little more than flirty.

Even though I appear to be eastern European because if the accident, I am Irish heritage. Most Irish are fighters when they get drunk. I am a lover, not a fighter. 'Nuff said; my body was reacting to the slightest stimulation and my state of inebriation had embarrassed me many times this evening. But it is all good, everything happens for a reason.

*****

"Ready for the next course?" She asked.

"How many courses are there? I'm not full, but I shouldn't overeat since I have had so much to drink tonight." After my cathartic cry, I was feeling simply warm and cozy instead of drunk, but if I moved my head fast enough, the room would spin a little.

"Five including dessert so; next course, then the main, and then the piece-de-resistance!"

As she reached over to signal the next course, I reached for the bottle noting that it was halfway empty and refilled our glasses. I didn't do too badly. I purposely filled her glass to a higher level than mine.

She leaned back in her chair and regarded the glasses side by side. She crossed her arms over her exquisite breasts and asked me.

"Lynne McKinney! Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"I don't know anybody named Lynne." I replied with mock innocence. "My name is Frances. "

Anya exclaimed, "I like it: 'Frahn-sis' It is beautiful."

I was stunned. Her accent made it special.

"What is that name to you, did you just randomly pick it?"

I told her, "It is my given name. My full name is Frances Lynne McKinney."

She said," it is lovely, you are my Frances! It will be your name just for me?"

"No-one else can use it. Frances is all yours."

I returned Anya's smile and reached over to clasp her hands.

"Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder. There were just so many things that I was remembering and I got a little overwhelmed. But talking to you has made me see everything in a new light and I can accept everything including my bad choices. I think I have learned from them and see that it's not necessary to run from anything anymore.

I was speaking metaphorically of course about being the ghost of Lynne McKinney and about exorcising her dead mourning spirit tonight. But in a way it is true. I am Frances Lynne McKinney and I made those bad decisions. I can accept that. But also, I am ready to connect with the new person I see in the mirror. You have helped create me anew and I cannot express my gratitude"

She smiled at that as if in relief, patted my arm, leaned back and said it was time for the third course. She got up and walked over to the dumbwaiter to retrieve it. She had taken her jacket off because I had soaked it with my tears when I was bawling. She was dressed in an earth-tone floral print silk wrap-style camisole with pointelle lace cups that were depended by spaghetti straps and this time I watched her walk over to get the next platter. I admit, I admired how firm and buoyant her breasts were. The lace did little to conceal them and she had silver dollar (like anyone has seen any of those in a while) sized areolae that appeared to be pinkish brown and topped by a pebbly nipples. They looked like they had heard something about the laws of gravity, but weren't sure if they believed in them and they were just going to protest their mandatory involvement by passive-aggressively delaying any response to it. Although it was almost hidden by her long blonde hair, when she turned away, I could see that she had a tattoo of something on her left shoulder. I was intrigued; I could not picture the reserved and proper Dr. Beauchamp as the type of person to sport a tattoo. But to be fair, I had not realized that she was lesbian either; maybe this wonderful woman would have more surprises for me.

She placed the platter on the table and I saw that it was a selection of different cold dishes. Some kind of thinly sliced very pink beef surrounding a bed of greens, some pastry looking things ( croquettes?) topped by a black jelly looking spread and a dozen raw oysters. There were also two champagne glasses with a mini bottle of bubbly. It looked like quite a romantic spread.

"Dr. Beecham, are you trying to seduce me with aphrodisiacs?" I thought I would be funny and stare at her with a look of mock horror on my face. To my surprise, she had a guilty look on her face which I found hilarious for some reason, and burst out laughing. She had a momentary look of... Well, I am not sure; it flit across her face so quickly, I had not time to determine if it was consternation or anger. But whatever it was, it was momentary and soon she was laughing right along with me.

I grabbed one of the pastry things and realized that the little cup wasn't bread at all. It was moist and a little cool and asked what it was; she told me that it was a yellowtail tartare with pusnaya caviar. She grabbed one also and said it was quite delicious. I had tried sushi before, but I do not think I had ever had caviar.

It was interesting; mostly like a jam but some little bit gritty, but poppy like champagne. It had as strong flavor and smell and was salty. I liked it.

I looked at Anya and asked, "I am still drunk, but I think some champagne would be really great with this. Do you think it would be OK?" I am not sure what I was asking for, I guess because she was a doctor, she could more objectively assess if I was going to pass out. Yes, I had drunk more tonight than I had in a very long time, but I was pleasantly fuzzy at the moment.

She said, "Yes, dear. Maybe you have had a lot to drink, but it has been over the space of a few hours. A glass of champagne should not be dangerous. And, it does set off this selection very nicely."

When she said "selection" I made the connection to what I thought I had heard her say earlier in Italian. "So it is the seduction selection?"

She looked over at me sidelong as she was pouring the champagne and said, "yes, 'la speciale selezione; la selezione seduzione.' It is a stupid name, but it sounds better in Italian don't you think? The selection is very good though."

She had been going to seduce me tonight!

I sat back to consider that. I looked down at my ring and noticed that it was a warm green color. I was actually surprised to find out that I was flattered.

I looked over at her. She was looking at me expectantly.

"Why are some foods considered aphrodisiacs? They don't actually work do they?

"No, Lynne, the only true aphrodisiac is the human brain. Some so-called aphrodisiacs work by irritating the lining of the urethra causing sensation in the genitals, but most, even the ones rumored to increase blood flow in the sexual organs, have more value in suggestion than in biochemistry.

The caviar and yellow tail are presumed to be aphrodisiacs because of the expense and rarity of the caviar and the pungent and salty taste of the combined fish and roe are reminiscent of the smell of sex-organs. They are supposed to excite the taste-buds.

The beef Carpaccio, well, it has the color and texture of a woman's vaginal lips. The truffle oil is supposed to also have the clean smell and feel of an excited woman" She looked a little embarrassed as her cheeks colored slightly as she said that. I found it touching that she was being frank, even though she realized that I might not appreciate the comparison.

She had stopped there. I looked over at the oysters and tried to work that one out. I noticed that she was watching me silently. I looked at her and she for real, full on blushed this time.

Interesting.

I got the feeling that she was rarely caught embarrassed about anything. I felt empowered and still flirty. It seems that the tables had temporarily turned and right now, she was responding to my teasing.

I decided to 'up the ante' and flirt in a capacity I did not know I possessed and said as breathlessly and as innocently as I could muster, "And the oysters: how do they work?"

She took a deep breath and said, "Some scientists have surmised that they have zinc and dopamine which act on the arousal centers of the brain. But the obvious connection is that they are very sensual in their raw presentation."

I still wasn't getting it and knitted my brows in confusion. She evidently could tell and took another deep breath and sighed before she dove in head first and explained.

"They resemble lubricated labia. They are slippery and eating them from the shell looks and sounds much like cunnilingus." With that she reached over and grabbed one to demonstrate.

Oh My! The tables turned just like that and I watched her transfixed. She lifted the shell to her nose and sniffed it. "You can appreciate the clean briny aroma." She brought it to her lips and said, "I like to taste it naked first." And she ran her tongue through the glistening folds of the raw mollusk. I knew she had to be playing it up for my benefit, but I immediately saw why it was so sensual. I know I was blushing. I had eaten a lot of raw oysters and had never made the connection, but then again, cunnilingus was a funny dirty word to me and not an activity that I had ever considered doing. I had never even seen another woman's aroused pussy. Don't get me wrong, I knew the anatomy and had placed more Foley-catheters than I care to count, but it was all business. I knew what mine did when I masturbated, but the angle was wrong to see what all of the swelling and glistening was about.

She then raised the shell and noisily slid its contents into her mouth, chewed it and then swallowed. "Delightful." She declared, "your turn."

Oh dear, show-time.

I asked her timidly, "Do I have to lick it?

She burst out laughing. "No Lynne, I was teasing you with that, but you should sniff it for the aroma and eat the first one without any sauce. Its natural liquor is quite good and is fresh and a little salty."

I ate it and said it was very good. Then she spoke, "The taste of the liquor is one of the closest things I can think of that actually tastes like a healthy woman's excited pussy."

OK, there is such a thing as being too frank. I turned scarlet and she chuckled.

The main dish was a stuffed pork loin with cinnamon, cloves, raisins, and almonds. It was very tasty. I love the aromatic taste of cloves and identified it with Anya's scent.

For dessert, the dumbwaiter opened up to a little fondue tower set with fruit. I looked closely as she set it down and saw strawberries, bananas, grapes, and marshmallows surrounding the running bowls of chocolate. Yummy!

She said "let me do you," I held my breath, but she grabbed a long silver fork and speared a strawberry. I noticed that the green part had been removed as she passed it through the chocolate waterfall. She then turned to me and aimed for my mouth.

Oh, OK.

I grabbed the matching silver fork and speared a marshmallow passing it through the fountain and fed her also. It was very sensuous and the chocolate tasted divine.

We had eaten about half of the selection when it happened. I was moving the fork towards her mouth with a piece of orange when a drop of chocolate escaped from the pointy end of the fruit. Luckily, it didn't get on her expensive silk cami, but it landed right above the lace concealing her cleavage. Without thinking, I said "ooh, sorry." And reached over with my finger and wiped the drop off of the top of her breast and stuck my finger into my mouth.

She looked at me as I did and I paused with my finger in my mouth frozen when I realized how forward I had been. She smiled at me and said, "I was waiting for one of us to do that. I am glad it was you because you would have thought I did it on purpose." And she gave a throaty chuckle, and continued, "But let me show you how you should have cleaned it off."

She took her fork and dragged a strawberry through the chocolate fall. Then she took it off of the fork and grasped it in her long slim fingers and placed it right in the nestle of my breasts where my cleavage started. The fruit was cool, but the chocolate was warm and slippery. She winked at me and then bent over and removed it with her mouth. Grasping it in her teeth, she moved in and made to kiss me with it. I opened my mouth to receive it and she pushed the entire berry into my open mouth with a thrust of her tongue, touched her lips to mine and then ducked her head back and looked down at my chest.

"Helas, I made a mess." I looked down and there was a smear of chocolate coating the valley between my breasts and both sides of the swell.

In order for me to see, I had to push out my chest a little and Anya must have thought I was presenting myself to her (maybe I was) and dove in and started to lick the chocolate off of me.

Her warm slippery tongue worked the valley of my breasts and I could feel my nipples respond. I had made a fashion choice before going out that evening and had decided to not wear any underwear. My dress had lace panels and an open back so wearing a bra had been out of the question. I thought that the lace overlay and black colored fabric would camouflage my naturally prominent nipples and under normal conditions, it worked. Having a stunningly attractive blonde-haired French woman licking the skin of my chest was not anything nearly approaching normal for me. I was now all-on-point so to speak.

She finished and took a white linen napkin and dried me off and said, "There all better." Pronouncing me cleaned up and evidently meeting her approval.

She noticed my pendant and told me that it had turned purple. No Kidding.

I sensed a challenge and felt that Anya was daring me to match her. I do not back down from a challenge, but I was a little unsure about licking her.

I forked a marshmallow, doused it and picked it off of the fork. I looked over at her and then down at her chest. Her breasts were a lot smaller than mine and were unconfined. Since she didn't have any material pushing them together, she had no place where I could lodge the marshmallow. I thought about just dotting her skin with the spongy sugary candy, but I'll admit it, I chickened out of that part of the challenge.

"Hmm; no place to put this, I'll just skip the middle girls." I popped the sponge into my mouth between my teeth and moved in for a kiss. Since I had backed down from licking her chest, I decided that I would regain some lost cool points by actually kissing her unlike her simple tease with the strawberry.

She leaned forward with a smile and when she had accepted the marshmallow with her mouth, I bit down and severed the spongy candy in two and did not break contact.

This was no closed mouth kiss.

I sealed my mouth to hers and locked us together Now, I was not about to stick my tongue in her mouth when it was full of food! Not because of the "yuck factor"... I mean really? Getting squeamish about swapping some chewed up food with someone because it is gross, but deep French kissing isn't? OK "baby-bird" food swapping is just disgusting, but fragments of food: pshhh. But, no, I didn't want to risk getting my tongue bitten. That would ruin the romantic mood and quick. So, no heavy tongue action this round.




Mood Ring Ch. 06



I sealed my mouth to hers and pressed my lips together closing hers as well. I then applied a little light suction and allowed my tongue to be drawn into the vacuum space between our lips.

One of us would be firm while the other was yielding; one would press while the other retreated. And then the roles would reverse. I traced the outline of her well-defined lips with my tongue and tasted a mixture of expensive cosmetic, sugar, and chocolate. The textures were exciting because not only were her lips soft and warm, delicate yet strong; the mixture of saliva, chocolate and sugar made for a gritty sticky sweetness that made the tissues of our lips more sensitive.

She grabbed a strawberry, placed in between her lips and used its firmness as a paintbrush to make a line of chocolate across my chest before bringing it to my mouth and sharing it with me.

"Oh my, I have made that mess again!'

I replied, "Lucky for me you know how to clean it up." She smiled at me and said, "Lucky for me too."

With that she bent over me and started to tongue-bathe the higher part of my breasts where they just started to swell. The sensation of her warm slippery tongue against my skin had my nipples straining against the fabric and begging for attention. She had to have seen them, but did not do any more than place a hand along the one side of my left breast and gently support it.

We were sitting tête-à--tête in the small room which meant one or the other of us had to turn sideways or crane and contort to make our lips meet up.

"Stop, stop, stop!

This isn't working for me." I told her.

She stopped kissing my chest and looked up with bewilderment on her face.

"But...." I stopped her protest with my finger to her lips and said, "Scoot your chair towards mine." And I stood up and took her by her shoulders and guided her on how I wanted her to move her seat.

When she was roughly in a position where we would be knee to knee, instead of sitting down, I hiked up my skirt (oops no panties! Too late) and straddled her legs before lowering myself and sitting on her thighs.

"Much better!" I said and moved in for a foodless kiss. I took her face in both hands and pressed my lips to hers. Sitting on her lap made me a bit taller than her and as I leaned over, she leaned back and scooted her hips forward to elongate her body. It made it so I did not have to lean over or crane my neck as much to kiss her. It also seated my hips against hers and I noticed something pressing on my delicate flesh and scooted back looking down.

She said "Ooh, sorry," reached down and removed a wide belt that had a hard metal buckle and then I think she unbuttoned her pants to relieve any bunching.

I resumed my seat and bent in for the kiss. She received it smiling. I pressed my lips to hers and caused suction. This time I used my tongue to tease the opening of her mouth and she opened and allowed me entrance. Our lips were still sensitive from the dehydrating effects of the chocolate and various sugary and acidic foods and the sensation was exquisite.

I misbehave when I am kissing. I like to kiss the entire face and neck. To tease with fainting movements and nuzzles. I love the smell of my partner and the humid sense of closeness from the contact. But I was used to the exciting sense of maleness; so different from my own.

Anya's scent was something else altogether.

In college, I had kissed a lot of girls in bars. This was not virgin territory for me and probably explained my boldness in taking charge at the moment. I enjoy the act of kissing and yes, women are softer in action than and not as aggressive as men. But back then, it was all for attention from the boys and in a crowd and not intimate. It was all for show and free drinks. I am ashamed of having done it because it was immature and debasing.

And because the last time I had done it, my girlfriend Haley had called me out and shown me that I wasn't just doing it for the attention. However, she was inexperienced and thought that she had seduced me enough that I would crawl into her bed. Instead of having power over me, her actions mocked me and made me angry enough to go have a one-night stand that resulted in my pregnancy. That one-night stand was without a doubt the best sex of my young life. I chose an apparently very virile masculine cowboy that I had just met to overlay the temptation that making out with Haley had awakened in me. I wanted some hard female-male action to make me forget about how I had been walking down a path to female-female sex. Let's just say that anger at Haley (and myself) heavy drinking, and the need to prove something did not work out to create smart decision making. I did my best to seduce Jess, the cowboy and just said "fuck it, I'll take my chances" when he asked about birth control. I think I lied to him about being on the pill. I wanted him and right away and couldn't be bothered to find an open convenience store for condoms. It was a bad decision, but I can still remember the sensation of the friction of his moist bare skin thrusting into me and the warmth of his come filling my insides. The memories alone would make me warm over the next two months and totally overwrote the sensation of Haley's playing with my nipples and warm sensual kissing.

Here making out with Anya, I let myself enjoy the sensations. I was sensitive to aroma, texture, and sound. I went to nuzzle Anya's neck and nibble on her ear. I inhaled deeply and the humid smell behind her ear touched something primal deep inside of me. It smelled of shampoo, her smoky perfume and something a lot more personal that I could only identify as her natural body scent. I began to nicker her neck, you know like when you take your lips and eat ice cream from a cone but you don't want to freeze your teeth.

"Lynne, that feels wonderful, but please don't leave any marks. Remember, I wear my hair up at work and a mouth shaped bruise would excite a lot of scandalous talk." Her sensuous voice had a tremble in it.

I brought my mouth close to her ear and said, low and throaty, (well, I aimed for low and throaty; I have a big girl's body but a child's voice) "You could always tell them that 'Francis" gave it to you." And gently bit her earlobe.

She responded with a low thrum. I leaned back to look in her eyes and several golden threads of her hair were stuck in my lips. I went "phbbt pweew," to dislodge the offending strands and she said, "Hold on let me do my hair up."

She undid the sash of her camisole and made to confine her hair.

I leaned back so she wouldn't hit me in the face with an elbow as she leaned back and reached up with both hands capturing her hair and whipping it into a quick knot to keep it off of her neck.

Undoing her sash had allowed the wrap to lose its lines. The lace cups were pretending that they did not know that they were supposed to confine anything known as breasts. When she raised her arms, I was enthralled by the sight of her practically naked and unrestrained breasts dancing to their own rhythm and music as she made the movements of capturing her hair and tying the sash for control. They were like two ballerinas gliding underneath a lacy veil and I was mesmerized.

She stopped with her arms still raised and gave a low chuckle, "See anything you like?"

I snapped out of it and realized I was sitting on her lap with my hands on either side of my face just staring at her marvelous breasts. I looked her in her eyes and noticed that she had a hooded, half-closed look.

She reached for her straps and slid them off of her shoulder causing the cami to fall off of her chest and puddle around her waist. She was naked from the waist up and totally gorgeous. Still I hesitated. This was crossing a new line for me.

I just sat there with my arms drawn to my chest and hands up to my face. I didn't know what to do. I was tempted to touch, but it scared me a little for some reason. I knew what a pleasure to have your breasts massaged and played with; to have your nipples teased and sucked on. But that was all first-hand knowledge. I had never been the one to do the stroking and touching.

She reached out and gently took my wrists in her hands and guided my palms until they were cupping her perfect breasts. They were like plump teardrops and stood proudly on her thin chest. The only breasts with which I was intimately familiar were my own and I noticed right away a difference. My breast tissue was denser, most likely because of my interrupted pregnancy. Their change had been the first clue that I was harboring a life within my body and that my body was preparing to nourish a baby. Her breasts were firm, but more pliable; much like mine had been prior to the changes.

I hefted their weight in my hand and was surprised how heavy they were. She took my fingers and guided them to her pebbly nipples. I was intrigued. They were smaller than mine, but quite hard. "Roll and pinch them a little," she said and I did. She cooed and told me that that felt wonderful.

"Do you want to taste them?" I just looked at her, this was a lot for me and I was like a shell shocked refugee just waiting for directions to salvation.

She reached over to the chocolate fondue fountain with her right hand and dipped one finger into the reservoir. She then took it and made a circle around her right aureole coating it and her nipple with the dark sticky fluid.

She then took her finger and placed it on my lips teasing me until I opened my mouth and let her enter. I took my tongue and circled her finger as I took her hand in mine to make her remain in my mouth. I sucked and licked her finger and the web and then released her. I placed my left hand to cup her right breast and my right on her back and bent down to claim my prize.

It was like nothing I had anticipated. I flicked my tongue to clean her pink pigment and curled my tongue around her firm nipple. She arched her back and a faint groan left her throat. I closed my mouth around her entire chocolate drop shaped mound and started to suck in until she filled my mouth. I glided my tongue around the smoothness of the aureole and danced on the pointy nipple. She again groaned to let me know she was enjoying my attention

I think there is something instinctual about sucking on a titty. We are all infants dependent on a mother's milk for nourishment and life itself and it is something primal in both men and women. Sucking on her breast awakened something in me I cannot completely explain. It went to the core of my being and until that moment, it was a deep need that I had never before felt. Now, I wanted to do nothing but suck tit. It was like nourishment.

I moved to the other breast and was able to taste her without the influence of the chocolate syrup. It was a unique taste and I noticed a metallic body fluid tang underneath her musky sweet "herness."

I was discovering that making sweet love to a woman was all about scent, texture, sound, and nuance. My experience with men was limited to say the least, but it was more animalistic and passionate. I couldn't say at this point if I liked one above the other, but admittedly, my experience in both was limited.

Cheers for more research!

Anya let me lavish attention on her exquisite breasts and neck for a few more minutes before stopping me and saying, "This is all well and good ma Cherie, but it is getting late and we should be getting you home."

I extended my arms and placed them over her shoulders around her head, looked her in the eye and said," This night has been wonderful, Thank you. I just wish there was somewhere we could go dancing. I know it is a late hour, but that would make it the perfect evening."

She looked at me for a full second or two and then she said, "I might arrange something. There is a dance floor here, but we have to follow the house rules."

I was thrilled, did a little happy dance in her lap and said," Oooh, that would put such a nice ending to a romantic evening, can you?"

She nodded 'yes' with a smile and motioned to me that I should get up and off of her. She replaced her cami , put away her marvelous breasts, stood up and refastened her trousers. She slid a finger across her stomach and held it up to the light so I could see that it was glistening and stated, "Looks like someone got a little excited."

Whoops, I wasn't exactly embarrassed by that. I didn't know for sure what to think at the moment.

She picked up the little house phone and inquired. She turned to me and said, "OK it is arranged, now, we will not be the only ones there so we must wear a carnival disguise, but I think it will be fun. Let's do it!"

She opened a drawer and extracted two Papier-mâché carnival masks. "Here put this on." She handed me the prettier one which was a butterfly themed one and appropriated the Mardi Gras cat mask for herself.

Once we had put on the masks, we exited our room and made our way to the spiral staircase. I was still bare-footed and negotiated the spiral staircase with ease. She led me to another intricately carved door, opened it and motioned me inside.

It was a small gallery and there were two other people present. Even though they were wearing masks also, I recognized them immediately as the two men who had escorted us to the property at the beginning of the evening and turned to Anya, "Hey, its ... "she shushed me and said "no names ma Cherie, house rules as I told you."

Oh OK; stupid, but whateves.

Let's have a good time. There was no DJ, but there was a little karaoke machine and computer with dance tracks programmed.

I looked over the selection and chose a swing, big-band Glenn Miller track called "in the Mood'."

Robert approached me and asked, "May I have this dance?"

"Most certainly, my gallant gentleman." I replied and we danced the swing.

We danced foxtrot, samba, Tango, and Meringue." It was only when the songs cut to a slow indiscriminate style that Robert received a tap to his shoulder and a low feminine voice stated, "I would like to cut in and claim this dance."

Robert replied, "By all means Madame." And relinquished me to Anya's embrace.

The song was Wham's 'Careless Whispers" and I let myself be drawn into Anya's warm embrace.

We remained in close contact. I love the slow dancing and let myself relax and molded my body to hers.

We swayed and turned and I let my head rest on her shoulder.

I looked over and Robert and Anton were posed in a similar fashion. I looked on as they paused, and exchanged some private confidence.

I looked up to Anya, after all, she was about 4 inches taller than I was and said, "Why couldn't you have been a man?"

She looked at me and said "Why, Cherie? What makes you think that things would be better between us if I was a man?"

I replied, "Well, I do not believe that a woman can make love to a woman as I understand it."

"Explain."

I replied, "Oh Come on, you know that women are not compatible with other women. Our bodies lack the necessary 'hardware' to have sex. We cannot complete the sex act, join in ecstasy, and create human life. All lesbian activities just seem to be different forms of mutual masturbation to me!"

She replied, "Do you really think so? What if I could show you otherwise? Woman can complete a sexual union maybe better than a man and a woman. Yes, it is true that we cannot create a new life, but with modern techniques and advances in human reproduction, two women can be the parents of a new life and children. Let me show you, ma Cherie! Give me the chance!"

I didn't answer her right away. "I'll Be," by Edwin McCain was playing and I looked up to her and drew her into a sensuous kiss. "Show me." I looked into her eyes as I said it. I knew I was crossing THE major fucking line right then and right there. But could I do otherwise? She had drawn me effortlessly into her world and I was a willing participant. I wanted a true love; a response to another kindred soul in this cold world and if it was a woman who could provide it, why should I care? I took the step and plunged into the abyss. 



Mood Ring Ch. 07



I woke up slowly and took my waking slow. 

Yes, I paraphrase Roethke and truly; why not? 

I am learning by going where I have to go. 

***** 

I woke up and sensed the comfort of the sheets first. I was so relaxed, the sheets so sensuous against my body, the warm sunshine which woke me. The sense of relaxation, of having been completed; yes indeed I took my waking slow. I languished and stretched sensually and dimly became aware of my surrounding; the high thread count of the luxurious sheets against my 'naked!' body, the warmth of the sunshine (definitely not my apartment) and the smell of musk, incense, and ... sex!" 

My eyes opened and I sat bolt-upright and as I began to question just where the hell I was, I realized it was her musk and her incense. 

I clutched the soft cotton sheets to my naked breasts and remembered. 

I remembered everything. 

I reached down between my legs, had it all been a dream? 

The slickness that greeted my fingers and tenderness of my tissues said otherwise and I raised my hand to my nose and smelt "Her" in a powerful sense. No it was no dream! 

It was our sex. 

***** 

The song had ended for our slow dance and her long blonde hair cascaded around my vision as she bent down to whisper in my ear, "Shall we go home Cherie?" I kissed her and replied, "You may take me." 

Hand in hand we made our way to the Victorian lobby and waited the limo. As we had arrived together, the lobby was apparently neutral territory and Robert and Anton were there. Anya suggested we share the ride. They lived close and we would drop them off before taking me to my apartment. 

The Limo arrived and we all climbed in. I do not remember whether I showed of my pretties or not, I was drunk on wine and desire. As soon as the doors closed, Anya embraced me and we started to make-out. I don't think the boys noticed; they were too caught up in their own private wrestling match. 

Her hands started to make their way to the juncture of my thighs, my secret spot which I had put on display when I had straddled her lap, but I got self-conscious. Not so much because of the presence of the men; they were in their own little world. No, I was stretching my comfort zone tonight and I think that the stretch was as tight as it could go without snapping. I had touched and suckled at her breasts. I am a girl that believes that love-making is reciprocal and an equal-party endeavor. I was cool with her sucking and touching my breasts; I could return the favor so to speak. But the pussy; I was not prepared to make a face to face acquaintance with a woman's sex just yet. Just the idea freaked me out. 

So, when she started to rub my nana, I quickly grabbed her wrist and said, "I am sorry, Anya I hope you do not think I am a tease. 

I want this. I just need understanding and for us to go slowly. This is totally against everything that I know and have grown up with and I'm making adjustments as I can. I want you, but please give me some time." 

She replied, "Lynne, you are a rare jewel. You must be savored. I am on your side. I respect your fears. I want you to know that I am your advocate. You are lovely and I want you so very much, but your comfort is dear to me. Just let me know your pleasure." 

I told her that the breast play was fine, as was the kissing. As long as our bodies were in harmony, I was good to go. 

We bid the boys adieu. As the limo pulled away, Anya told me "I have been good long enough, I must have a taste your exquisite breasts." 

With that, she eagerly made to force my dress from my shoulders. I did not want her to ruin my garment so I reached back and let loose the stay of my dress, the connection of the fabrics. The material fell from my chest exposing my formidable breasts. 

Anya looked on and was stunned with the display. 

She simply said. "I am without words." 

My breasts had changed substantially when I became pregnant three years ago. The tissue had become more firm and gained density and size. I had gone from a C-cup to a DD size and somehow I had denied it until the last moment. Now, I was well acquainted with both the size of my breasts and the prominence of my nipples. They were in short, worship-worthy and I was in no position to deny the faithful. The color of the nipple had been the first clue that my body was making a change; to nourish a human life. They had turned a rich plum color and were so much darker than my pink virgin hue. 

She bent forward and took one of my engorged raisin-like nipples in her mouth. My breasts had developed to bring nourishment to a budding human organism. That this woman would suckle my supple exposed nipple was along the order of what should be and I felt more complete: as a life-bringer by having a living being suck at my breast. 

Simply due to the mechanics of the Limo, Anya had to recline and stretch across my lap as she began to draw my energized teat into her mouth. I cradled her head in my near lap and somehow, somewhere, something clicked. The puzzle pieces fell into place and I suddenly felt maternal; owning of this dear creature that sought nourishment at my breast. Her suction on my nipple created a warmth in my core that touched my spine, stomach and deeper to my clit. I felt warm, fuzzy and complete. I felt to be a complete woman. 

She began to move from one nipple to the other and I felt like a true protector. I would comfort her, to help her relax and find comfort. I wanted to make her feel good, to relax and to melt the tension from her body. 

She moved from my breasts and nuzzled up to my neck and then to my lips and we started to tenderly kiss in that intimate way that simply flowed. All along, she murmured telling me what she wanted for me; to protect me, to relax me, to release the tension of life and my past. Her kiss was an affirmation that another human being wished to share in the happiness of creation and life. 

She simply moved close so her warm pliable lips formed to mine. We joined tentatively. Our lips began an un-choreographed dance. Sometimes it was a solo, sometimes a duet. Always, it was beautiful. We moved in harmony. 

I began to feel a light constriction in my chest and tried to ignore it. We continued to kiss; to gently begin to make love to each other until I could bear it no more. I was suddenly nauseated. 

"Quick, have the driver pull to the side!" I said. 

It happened so suddenly, I was unaware that I was sick until I was trying to stifle the vomit from exiting my mouth. 

We pulled to the side and I quickly opened the door, but it was not soon enough and a thin stream of alcohol and barely digested stomach content jetted from my hands and down the front of my chest and little black dress before I could find the road shoulder and discharge the product of my delicate stomach. 

I wretched and wretched and emptied the rich food and alcohol until I was void of content. 

I turned to the Limo and was so embarrassed. I was standing dejectedly on the side of the road bare-chested, with sick all over me and my dress. I could hope the ground would swallow me up right then. 

"I am so sorry Anya! I don't usually drink this much." 

She murmured sympathy and told me not to worry. She found some bottled water from the Limo mini-bar and a towel and I cleaned up as best I could. 

What a mood killer. I climbed back into the limo and sat across from Anya burying my face in my hands. Anya tried to be supportive, but I asked her to give me some distance. I told her I still felt sick and couldn't handle anyone touching me at that moment. My God; what could she be thinking about me now? 

We rode on with the windows down and I tried to distance myself because even though I had tried to clean it, I knew my dress had to reek. I was mortified! 

We had ridden a little ways further, but I knew we had travelled too far us to be going to my home. I looked out the open windows and realized we were in a much higher class neighborhood than where I lived. We drove up to a stately enclosure. As the gate opened, I asked, where were we? 

Anya stated, "Lynne, if you are going to be sick, then I cannot in good conscious let you go home alone. If you vomit in your sleep and choke, it would be on my conscience and I simply could not live with such a burden. You will stay here at my home and I will attend you." 

How could I argue? I had soiled my dress. And although the embarrassment had somewhat sobered me up, I was still drunk gods knew how much. I no longer felt ill, but I really did not have the will to pretend to put up a fight. 

The limo pulled up to the front of her residence and we got out. 

We entered her house and I meekly asked about a shower and change of clothing. She guided me to the bathroom. I disrobed myself of my odious clothing and entered the comfort of the pulsating jets of warm liquid. 

I let the warm water course over my body. My hair was short and I did not feel the need to lather it, I had cleaned it well earlier tonight. The warm water soothed and stimulated my body into a relaxed state. The body wash smelled of jasmine and honey adding to my relaxation. I could forget about everything and simply relish the moment. 

I exited the huge shower, dried myself with a huge luxurious towel and then wrapped it around me. I looked and saw a bottle of mouthwash sitting conspicuously on the counter. I quickly poured out some into the cap and took a swig. I swished it thoroughly cheeks and gums before spitting it out into the sink. I stared at the drowned rat looking at me from the mirror and saw the amber-green stone dangling between her breasts. Time to face the music. 

I hadn't noticed Anya since I had been led to bathe. So even though I wanted to run and hide, I set out to search for her to apologize again. My soiled clothing had disappeared and I realized that the mouthwash must have been set out for me. 

A door had been left open opposite to the one I had entered and it appeared to access the only other lit room in the house. 

I walked through the door and realized it was a guest bedroom. Centrally located in the room was a queen-sized sleigh bed with gorgeous bedding. There was a detached canopy and sheer fabric fell around the bed frame giving it a dream-like oriental air. The four dependant lights along the headboard wall cast a warm candle lit glow to the room and I had enough time to register the subdued linen, violet and gold threaded pillows and quilted comforter of the bedspread when I heard a movement and turned towards the main door. 

Anya entered the room with a glass of water in each hand, 

She offered and I accepted. 

We drank deeply and placed our half-empty glasses in the nightstand coasters. 

I was completely naked but for the burgundy towel. Anya still was dressed in her evening attire of crème-colored trousers and sheer-floral print camisole. I had left my juvenile mood ring jewelry in place, why not at this point? I certainly felt childish for having drunk myself ill. 

I started to apologize again, but she shushed me and told me to stop apologizing. 

Fair enough, everyone knows that person who keeps repeating the same behavior when they get drunk. 

If she was willing to let it go, so was I. 

She suggested that I receive an IV to replenish the fluids lost from my being sick and from my inebriated state. I agreed. The major complication of being drunk is the dehydration effect of the alcohol. She said although she was a doctor, she was still extremely skilled in the basics. 

She led me to a small bar kitchen and told me to have a seat on one of the stools. 

As I parked my substantial butt on the cool leather, she produced an IV bag of fluid, the necessary tubing and an IV catheter. I bared my arm by laying it on the counter. She quickly pierced my skin and set the needle catheter in a vein, attaching the full tubing and letting a liter of warm saline fluid drip into my body. 

She said that she would probably benefit from the same and produced another IV set-up. 

I understood that I was to reciprocate and placed a tourniquet on her arm, and selected a suitable vein. 

Brave woman! 

She knew I was drunk; but I have done it so many times, I can literally place a line with my eyes closed. No really. I had been challenged once by one of the techs and we placed a bet on it. I was blindfolded and successfully "stuck" him and placed the line. I had cheated a little though ... He had huge bulging veins and little body fat so I had no problem locating an accessible site. Ssshh, don't tell anyone. I still won that $20 according to the agreed conditions. 

Swiping the skin with an alcohol prep, I told her "one, two, three." And I placed the needle. She was an easy stick and I made the catheter secure against her skin with a plastic membrane and we talked as the fluids infused. 

She told me to not be embarrassed by my episode of illness. She knew all of the different alcohols I had consumed and why and that she felt wholly responsible because she had tempted me with rich foods in addition. She said that if anyone was to blame, she would be the one to take it and that I should forgive her. Again her generosity of spirit overwhelmed me. 

"Lynne ..." I shushed her and said, "I am Frances now; yours and yours alone. 

She placed her well-manicured hand on my forearm and stated, "Frances, (It come out as frahn-sis because of her French accent and I loved it) I am concerned about your health. I will not leave you alone tonight." 

Despite the embarrassment and IV fluid, I was still quite drunk. Even though I was not really feeling that sexy at the moment, I couldn't resist teasing. 

I decided to pretend myself as a bad-ass and told her boldly, "I should warn you; I sleep naked." 

She was unconcerned and replied that she did the same. Bluff called and so much for my bad-assery. I don't do well in poker either. 

The fluid had infused and it was time to seal the wound. I placed a gauze 4x4 on her arm and she did the same to me. We then returned hand in hand to the bedroom. Each step ratcheted up something in me. Anxiousness, but from anxiety or anticipation I could not tell you. 

As soon as we entered the room, she let go of my hand. She shucked her camisole and her pants leaving her body clad in only a lacy white panty. 

She was drop-dead gorgeous. I was without words. I felt like wilting next to her beauty. 

We embraced and she told me I was beautiful. I had been critical of both my appearance and behavior as I looked in the mirror when I had stepped out of the shower and was thinking she was going to be disgusted with me. But her kind words rang sincere and I felt a little glow inside. She wanted me! 

I did not know how to reply and did the only thing that occurred to me. I pressed my lips to hers and initiated a soul-deep kiss. 

One kiss became many and as we proceeded, our souls intertwined. 

She moved me over to the bed, pulled down the comforter and sheets and pressed her hand to my chest motioning me to sit. She took one hand and deftly removed her silk panty with a finger. She took the lacy fabric and raised it to her nose and sniffed it and said, "So erotic!" 

"Frances, smell how excited you have made me!" and offered me the moist undergarment. I raised it to my nose and could immediately discern her scent. It had that unmistakable tang of body odor, but there was an underlying sweetness; a musk and incense that I would always identify with her sex. 

She grabbed the towel where I had tucked it to keep it around me and said," I have to have you," and tugging ever so slightly, removed the towel from my warm naked body and threw it to the ground. 

I scooted back to recline recumbent on the luxurious bed-sheet and she joined me stretching her body alongside my left side. She looked down and said, "Being almost two meters tall, it is not often I find a lady that can fit beside my body. Mon Amour, you fit me so nicely." 

She leaned in to whisper in my ear, "We are going to make sweet love; and then I am going to fuck you hard! Soon, I am going to have you wrap your legs around me, screaming my name as you cum." A shiver ran down my spine from the sensation of her breathe in my ear, the low vibration of her voice and the anticipation of what she was going to do to me. Apparently I am ASMR sensitive because her voice alone began to make my skin crawl in that good way. As she whispered what she was going to do to me in my left ear, I experienced a quickening; a feeling as if ice crystals and heat along the left side of my body were dancing from hair follicle to hair follicle making tingles before she even touched me. My nipples were already electrically charged and waiting to be grounded against something for a total orgasmic discharge. 

She supported herself with her right arm and taking her left hand reached across my body and traced a line from my neck to my right breast lightly raking my skin with her fingernail. The sensation raised goose-bumps on my skin, but I was not cold. Paradoxically I was aflame with sensation. She circled my plum-colored aureole and then grasped the erect nipple of my right breast between her fingernails stroking the entire length of its prominence. She smiled at me and lightly pinched and tugged with a small twisting motion. The little shocks reached to my toenails and I shuddered involuntarily. 

She quickly reached down parted my legs and cupped my groin sliding a finger along my slick folds. Her finger was cool, but parted my sensitive labia without any friction. "Frances you are very wet," and raised her hand up so I could see. She spread her fingers apart and I could see a spiderweb of fluid stretch between them. She then brought her wet finger to my breast and started to trace around my right nipple moistening the skin and lubricating her touch. I was passive, but willing. Usually I like to be an active participant in love-making, but right now, I was so far out of my comfort zone, all I could do was follow wherever she guided me. That alone served to heighten my excitement. I felt safe in her hands and her hands were gifted. 

She took her hand and gently squeezed my breast causing more blood to infuse the already engorged breast tissue. My nipple had already been aching and now I wanted her to lavish her attention to it with her tongue. I breathlessly whispered "Please, suck on my titty." Although it must have been barely audible, she obliged and a groan escaped my throat as her moist lips simultaneously quenched the burning skin and lit my passion even brighter. 

She leaned over me and said, "You smell divine," and curled her tongue around my engorged aching nipple before drawing the entire plum pigment of my aureole into her mouth and sucked gently. 

She popped the nipple out of her mouth and moved up to kiss me on the lips. Her tongue invaded me and probed deeply. 

Her hand replaced her mouth at my breast and she teased and pinched my sensitive flesh. She licked and sucked at my neck causing me to giggle and gasp. 

She moved back to my breasts and began to lavish attention to them. One hand would caress and support my right tit as she kissed and sucked my left. Her warm moist lips traced my aureole as her tongue flickered across my sensitive nipple. My arousal began to heighten and I thought I would climax just from the sensation of her licking, stroking, and stimulating my breasts alone. Then she would change position and repeat left and right. 

She moved quickly and next thing I knew, she had mounted on top of me. She was straddling me and sitting on top of my thighs. 

She leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Now I am going to show you how a woman makes love to another like I promised 

She reached back with her arms and placed her hands between my knees and gently pushed them apart. I drew them up, she moved to prone, an almost push-up position and just like that we were in missionary. She scooted forward and I could feel her moist slick heat join mine. 




Mood Ring Ch. 08



I had woken up languidly and in comfort. I was drowsy and comfortable. I stretched and reveled in the feel of the soft cotton sheets and sunlight against my naked body. 

And then I sat bolt-upright as I remembered where I was and what had happened.

HOLY FUCK!

I had to get out of here!

Where were my clothes? Oh yeah, damn! I was sick on them. 

I looked around and on the nightstand I saw a silver platter and a folded note standing upon it.

My curiosity piqued and the urgency of getting away forgotten, I reached for the ecru-colored stationery and saw an unfamiliar and very feminine hand written in cobalt–blue that read:

My Dear Frances,

My love, I had to wake early to run errands. You were sleeping so sweetly and peaceful I did not disturb you beyond giving you a small kiss. Your sweet sleepy smile in response has made my day already!

I took the liberty of taking your dress to the dry-cleaners.

Please feel free to use anything you find in the closet of the guest bedroom to clothe yourself.

You may await my return or leave to take care of your personal business as you see fit. The gate will open to the code: ****

I will be cooking a nice steak dinner tonight around 6:00 if you would care to join me; it would be my pleasure! I cannot get enough of your company!

Ever yours,

Anya

She was a doctor and she had neat handwriting. What a surprise.

Yeah, I am an idiot! I had gone and convinced a (gorgeous) Lesbian that I was interested in a relationship with her. Understand: I am totally straight. I told myself it was only the alcohol lowering my inhibitions and my inebriated horniness that had allowed last night to happen in the first place.! (The fuzzy thought that I had REALLY enjoyed the hot sex was just a distraction. I was too freaked out to deal with any inconvenient truths at the moment.) 

I wanted a shower, but it was already past eleven o'clock and I was not sure how long she had been gone nor how soon she would return. I did not want to experience running into her at this point. I had screwed up and I had screwed up but good! 

I remembered the moment when I had realized that she was truly attracted to me and that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I knew that I was going to have to let her down easy so that there would be no hard feelings.

But things got kinda fuzzy after that and all I could remember was a storm of emotions sweeping me away: regret, relief and memories of things that I couldn't stop to sift through at the moment. Oh, and the undeniable fact that we slept together. How I ended up in bed with her was not one-hundred percent clear; but I was slick and sore in all the right places and the vivid memory of what she had done to me made me blush in the daylight.

I hurried to the guest bedroom. (I was guessing it was the right one; she had like a bajillion rooms in this freaking wonderful house.) I recognized it as the scene of the crime and purposely avoided even looking at the wrecked bed. "That" smell was even stronger in here and I inwardly cringed. I selected a desert paisley peasant smock that fell just past my knees from the full closet (How many clothes and dresses did this woman have?) and a pair of sandals that seemed to fit well enough. Either she had extremely small feet or mine were large, but we appeared to be about the same shoe size. Regardless, I would return her clothing much later when everything was less threatening and of course with an appropriate expression of gratitude.

Retrieving my cell phone from my purse (Thank God it still had some battery left) I called a local taxi service. It seemed like an eternity until the car pulled up to the gate. I pushed the button to allow them access and entered the car as soon as it pulled to a stop. 

As we were driving away, I realized that I had left my heels. Oh well, I would just pick them up when she returned my dress: preferably in a neutral environment to offset the inevitable awkwardness of the encounter.

I was free and in the clear. 

Directing the driver to the Mexican restaurant to retrieve my little Tiburon (so humble compared to my ride last night), I paid him and got out next to my little red sports car. I checked quickly to make sure that it had not been vandalized (No, thank goodness!) We had had some trouble with some immature boys and I was worried my little car would not have survived the night unmolested.

Instead of driving home to my empty apartment, I drove to the beach. I needed to be alone; I did not want to be confined.

It was about a forty minute drive and I arrived nearly at 1:00 PM. It was early still in the season. I realized that the long stretch of sand was deserted and I had no problem finding a parking spot at the public lot near the pier. I would have plenty of wide open solitude to contemplate my recent turn of events. I grabbed my floppy brim wicker hat from my car to protect my skin from the sun. I have not had much opportunity to sunbathe and I would burn in minutes in direct sunlight even this time of year. As soon as I cleared the path through the dunes, I removed the sandals and made to walk along the shoreline. I love the feel of the wet sand grinding against the bottoms of my feet as the last breath of the tidal ebb frolics around my ankles and the surf foam tickles my skin.

I needed to get my shit together or I was going to go crazy! The driving had distracted me from the reality of what I had allowed to happen last night; but here I was hit full force with the enormity of my actions and that there was a different future in store for me this point forward no matter what I did. Life had fundamentally changed.

Looking at the crashing waves as I walked along the sandy beach, I felt dissolved and chaotic like the wave after it has crested and crashed into uncountable foam bubbles. Last night had opened a lot of unresolved emotional wounds. I had been living a grey life for the last three years because I had been unable to deal with what I had done and what had happened to me. Right now, I needed to get my head on straight before I could function in any capacity.

The facts:

I had made out with a bestie; a girl and it had sexually aroused me.

I had run from that, fucked a male stranger to reaffirm my sexual orientation and had gotten pregnant.

I was involved in a vehicle accident and lost my baby and my friend

Last night I had gotten drunk and had my first true lesbian sexual experience.

I liked it (a lot)

I liked men! I had gotten pregnant proving it; hadn't I?

I might like women. Was this a problem?

I had to figure out what to do about it.

The more I thought about it, the clearer the memories of last night became. I began to recall some of the realizations I had made last night regarding my mistakes and the emotional costs. I remembered deciding that the accident had wiped the slate clean and I no longer had to carry the burden of lost friendship and lost babies. I couldn't do anything about my past, but my future was all in my hands. I also remembered my decision to let Lynne's life and mistakes end with that car accident. Now, I was Frances. (I also remembered impulsively promising Anya that Frances was all hers. Blush!)

I walked in the tidal zone where the surf ebbed and flowed. Here was a zone of safety for me at the moment. Everything was changing as each wave advanced and receded. The zone took every change and returned it to the basic elements of shore and tide. Nothing marred the marriage of earth and sea. It was time itself.

My footprints were slowly erased behind me as I walked. I had no past. The future was unmarked and featureless. I could go anywhere. 

I passed the remnants of a child's sand castle and although it still looked like a monumental creation, one side was already being ground down and returned to the basic element.

The regularity of the waves coming to shore and crashing and then reforming was calming. I looked at them as they fell into chaos and realized that what appeared to be a catastrophe was only the formation of the raw materials of a new beginning. 

I began to feel all was just fine with the world.

OK, I could handle this. It was no big deal; just my female boss (although not a direct supervisor, she was still higher on the employment food chain than me) was in the least infatuated with and wanted a sexual relationship with me. I was flattered. 

I was worried!

I was not convinced about the viability of a lesbian relationship. I really did not believe that two women could form a lasting stable relationship. Somehow, somewhere, I just knew it would dissolve. I wanted something that would last a lifetime. 

I picked up a broken shell and flicked it into the chaos.

But, I had been very wrong about the compatibility of women making a sexual union. She was really accomplished in making love to a woman, I could attest to that and blushed furiously even though no one else was around. Contrary to my inexperienced imagination; two women could complete each other and share a deep soul-bonding sexual experience. If there been the alien awkwardness I had been expecting, I would have been deep in regret about letting it happen; much like my initial reaction when I woke up this morning. However, it had felt natural to me as we progressed from kissing to genuinely having sex. Our lovemaking had been both familiar enough not to trigger any alarms and exotic enough to be absolutely thrilling.

I had gazed directly into Anya's eyes and she into mine as we both found ecstasy in each other's arms. I had experienced an intimacy unlike anything I had ever encountered and it was something I could not ignore. The memory of her eyes transfixed to mine as she intensely came made me feel warm inside and I realized that I wore a small smile from the memory.

I allowed that I might be wrong as regards other aspects of women in love.

Looking down, I spied a perfectly formed nautilus shell. I grabbed up my skirt so the hem wouldn't get wet and bent to pick it up. I washed it in the surf and admired how it had grown to allow the organism within to develop without fundamentally changing shape. I hazily recalled some discussion about the "Golden Spiral" and Fibonacci mathematics as regards the shell shape. I am not a math wizard, so the discussion did not mean a lot to me except I realized philosophically that real life creatures have infinite variables governing their development and it is silly to try to make them fit a precise mathematical formula. 

However, there are real patterns in life and the universe does have some amazing coincidences. If someone wants to find a higher purpose in the correlation; there is no harm in that. But it is stupid to expect someone or something to adhere to some rigid and inflexible template.

I believe that, just like the shell's growth and its relationship to a mathematic progression, there is a cooperation between defined parameters and individual expression. 

Unexpected circumstances often cause our lives and relationships to grow in unplanned ways. But if we react in a balanced thoughtful manner, that growth can be beautiful and still allow our organism to retain its identity.

We don't control what is thrown at us by life, but we absolutely control how we react; do we catch, dodge, or toss back whatever comes our way? Or do we just stand there and let things happen with the common result of getting devastated because we don't take any corrective or evasive maneuvers?

I placed the shell in a pocket and continued on my personal journey.

Walking to the pier, I replaced my borrowed sandals and carefully made my way along the worn and splintered wooden planks to the end. I looked out at the expanse of the ocean and realized the enormity of creation. I was still wearing the scent of my lover from last night and it made no difference to anyone but me. Here at the end of the pier it mattered not. I was the only one to whom it was important. I made the correlation and identified it to my life.

As big as events in a personal life seem, there is just so much going on in the grand scale. The small inconsequential details we obsess over only make a difference to personal stories and individual lives. Ultimately nothing was going to change in the universe regardless of what I did at this point.

I leaned over and rested my elbows on the wooden railing and stared at the horizon. Off in the distance it looked like a storm was brewing. There was a dark mass of clouds gathering and occasionally flashes of lightning would illuminate the massive formation. But they were so far away, I could hear no rumbles. At that distance, no one could tell what the storm was going to do. It could grow in strength and ferocity and assault the land, or it could follow a course that kept it over ocean and dissipate without leaving any trace that it had existed as a potent destructive elemental force. 

I was looking too far down the range. Marriage, children, the rest of my life was still a long way off. I had no immediate romantic male prospects right now and I could be waiting a long time until the right guy came along. Right now, I had another wonderful and vibrant human being who was deeply interested in me romantically as a person, as a lover; as a woman. 

So what if this relationship might break apart in the future? Every new relationship has that uncertainty to it and as long as I was expecting it to end, I would not be surprised and devastated when it reached its inevitable conclusion. Maybe I could learn something about humanity and love from Anya. She was certainly offering me a chance

I had to break this down to basics.

Was I happy?

Yes.

What made me happy right now?

Anya and her apparent interest in me.

Was it reasonable in this crazy world?

Is anything reasonable in this fucking world?

Could I bring balance to her?

Umm; yes, I think so. She seemed to lighten up when I was around. I couldn't say I knew much about her life, but I really enjoyed her company. I could love her as a person. She was really pretty and she made me feel happy. Flirting with her was fun and exciting. 

Would she bring balance to my world?

Well, Last night was a new beginning for me. I had been trying to bury long dead issues over and over and had only kept them unearthed in the process. Last night was the first time that I had been able to look at them directly and drive a stake into their undying cores. I acknowledged what I had done and took ownership of my problems. I would say yes, since it had been Anya that had been the catalyst of my stepping forward; she was bringing balance into my world.

What was I worried about?

I guess I was afraid I would not be able to please her. 

I really liked her company and she was fun and glamorous. I had to admit I still had the hero crush and was in shock that she had even noticed me. I did not want to disappoint her. 

She was glamorous, worldly, and cultured. She spoke several languages. I was just an ordinary ER nurse. I had never even taken a vacation overseas. What could she possibly see in me? Could I keep her interest, if that was where this was heading?

Quite frankly the idea of going down on her scared the bejeebus out of me. I was not so keen on the idea of going "face-to-face" with a vagina; but I could not bring a definite objection to the notion. I guess it was just years of conditioned thought that made me balk at the idea. I have never baldly "faced" a pussy before so I could not say for sure that it was not for me. I know how pleasurable having her face to my pussy was. I think I could "bite the bullet" and try to bring her pleasure. 

Maybe I was afraid that I would not like that aspect of sex with her and it would ruin any possibility of companionship and romance for us. (On a deeper barely conscious level I was afraid I might like it too much and never get married or have children.)

Would I show up for dinner at 6:00 tonight?

FUCK ME!

I did not know the answer to that.

I returned home and took a much needed and well-deserved shower.

I turned the little faucet to let the water warm up and regarded my naked body in the mirror. I lightly exercised about 4 times a week and watched what I ate, but was not fanatical about fitness and diet. Life is too short to starve oneself for the admiration of strangers. But, life is better lived with a fit body. I was proud of my figure.

I have a true hourglass shape. Even though I had been pregnant once, I lost the baby before the changes were very noticeable or permanent. The only lasting legacy had been a slight size increase in my breasts and the plum-coloring of the aureole surrounding my ever plump nipples. My waist was still tiny, but I had developed my wide womanly hips long before the pregnancy.

Entering the shower, I closed the glass door and let the warm water cascade over my head and my body. I simply washed and allowed myself to revel in the sensation of fluid liquid warmth cleansing my soul.

Last night I had realized that I hadn't even touched myself to masturbate in many months. I thought of the events of last night and let my body respond to the erotic images that played like a slideshow behind my closed eyes.

Kissing Anya was what had started the night to its inevitable conclusion and I recalled warmly the effect that our osculation had had on my neglected body. I felt my nipples respond to the memory and to the hot water and idly reached up and began to play with them. I grabbed the bottle of coconut body wash and lathered up my hands and began to massage my large breasts. The tissue had become more firm with the pregnancy and stood proudly on my chest. I hefted the weight and glided my hands over my sensitive skin. I supported them at the base where they met my lower rib cage and began to squeeze them forward. The action caused my nipples to further engorge with blood and to stand firmly erect. They are about as long as the tip of my index finger and equally as thick. I had been emotionally numb after my accident and was only beginning to fully appreciate their sensitivity and responsiveness. Mostly they had been an embarrassment for three years and I had discovered many techniques to conceal them. Last night, I had ignored my better judgment and left my house without wearing any underwear. It had been a disaster as far as my composure had been concerned, but maybe my body signals had given Anya a green light to seduce me. I think my nipples had stood at attention and not rested after she had kissed me.

I pinched and rolled my nipples between my fingers and felt the wave of pleasure thrill my core. I had not appreciated my breasts as my life had been a long grey nightmare for the last three years. Now I looked down and admired how they looked as I squeezed them together and mashed the dark aureoles towards each other to create a deep cleavage. They were each much bigger than I could contain in one hand. I recalled warmly how perfectly Anya's breasts had filled my hands as they hung heavy from her chest while she leaned over me.

I took my arms folded them, and raised my hands towards my head rubbing my forearms against the sides of my breasts; each movement causing the weight to shift and change stimulating me onwards towards my warm fuzzy feeling. I recalled how delighted Anya had been to play with my breasts and imagined her hands stroking, hefting and squeezing my responsive tissues. When I pinched my nipples, I imagined her face suckling; her lips suctioned around my aureole and her tongue flickering around my engorged raisin-like teat.

I turned so the water stream was splashing across my large ass and gathered more body wash in my hands. It had a warm tropical scent and I inhaled it deeply before rubbing my hands together and lathering my sizeable buttocks. I spent enough time in the gym and only had a little cellulite dimpling. But, Nature had provided me with a generous hip ratio and my body proudly announced its ability to make babies.




Mood Ring Ch. 08



I glided my hands over my firm buttocks and then my abdomen. I only had a slight belly pooch that no amount of exercise, sit-ups, or core training had eliminated. And truth be told, I thought it a result of my internal female organs that caused the slight pooching and therefore was the attractive (in my opinion) shape of a healthy woman.

I moved my hands down to my pussy and began to spread the lathered bubbles over my groin. I brushed my rising clit and felt the warm burning as blood began to rush into the area. 

I leaned back against the wall and began to rub my hand over my shaven mons and slick pussy. My labia were swollen, rigid and sensitive to the slightest touch. I felt acutely the frictionless sensation as my fingers caused my inflamed petals to slide past each other. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. It wouldn't take too long to come. I had been in a constant state of arousal all day even as I remembered what I had done and was worried about what I was doing, Now, I didn't think about anything except what my body was feeling.

I pinched my clit between two fingers of my left hand and raise my right to tweak my right nipple as I cupped my titty. The soap and my moisture made my clit super slick and I trapped the small erect tissue through my hooded flesh between my outstretched fingers causing the entire region to hum with a pleasurable sensation.

I took my right hand and began to lightly fan the trapped tissue with my straightened fingers using the warm water and body wash to lubricate the skin.

I raised my leg and rested it on the little ceramic bump I had installed to make shaving my legs easier thus giving my hand better access to my pussy.

Returning my right hand to my breasts, I slid my left hand fingers along my clit and started to play with the entrance of my vagina with just my fingertips. I tried to imagine that I was playing with Anya's pussy that was swollen with desire for me, but the image kept reverting to her crystal blue eyes peaking over my tummy as she tongued my vulva. My fingers were her tongue and lips, sucking on my now very swollen clit and penetrating my aroused and sopping vagina.

I slipped two fingers inside of me and started to stroke deeply while pressing my palm against my mons and clit hood. My fingers made a sloppy wet noise as they pistoned in and out of me that was audible even above the spraying jet of the shower head.

I was very close and increased the frequency. The hot water was pulsating against my sensitive skin and I began to breathe very heavily. I reached down with my right hand and simply started to press against my clit grinding its firm tissue against my pubic bone.

The orgasm began slowly in my toes. I could feel the electricity gather in my pedal arch and then connect with my clit, belly button and my sensitive nipples. Lightning struck and every nerve ending was lit up in brilliance and light, sparks danced across my skin and connected in an iridescent spiderweb of pleasure. I moaned and panted and cried out as my body was racked with muscular contractions. I realized that I was moaning Anya's name and picturing her face riding my crotch through my bliss. I was sensitive, but I kept my fingers inside and lightly played with myself for another minute until I noticed that my orgasm was building again.

Again I tried to imagine putting my fingers inside of her, but the sensations were clearly my own and again her face looking up at me accompanied my second smaller orgasm.

My body was relaxed and sated. I considered that both times, I had imagined looking into her eyes as pleasure coursed through my body.

I washed my hair and reveled that since it was shorter, it was much less hassle to care for now.

I might have stayed in the shower for about half an hour. My water bill was going to be insane this month!

When I exited, I grabbed a warm towel and patted myself dry. I decided that since I had gone ahead and shaved everything last night, I would just attend to the maintenance and rid myself of any minor stubble. My skin was moisturized from the showering with body wash and lotion and shaving was optimum for me to make myself super smooth. It would only take another day of growth and I would be all itchy anyway.

I looked at the clock and it said: 4:00 PM.

I had 2 hours to decide just what the hell I was going to do.

Should I accept the invitation to the steak dinner? 

(I knew it was not just a steak dinner that was being offered. There was just so much more that was attached to that invitation.)

I was nervous and ended up fidgeting with my hair in a habit I had from when it was much longer. I braided my short hair into a tight love knot braid that was close to my scalp and low maintenance for the evening.

My hair was done, my clothes; well, I liked the peasant smock I had borrowed. I had put it back on. This time I chose to wear a grey cotton thong and bra. Last night had brought so much embarrassment when I had gone out without underwear, I would not be repeating that mistake for a while. But, I didn't want to go totally lipstick-lesbian lingerie freaky either.

I decided that I would experiment with some make-up just to pass some time. Why not play around? I had discovered a new style to make my eyes smoky and sexy. I applied some pink glossy lip plumper and endured the little bee stings. I looked in the mirror and again was satisfied with the results. 

Freaking word I looked hot! It would take a while until I was able to identify the sexy looking woman in the mirror to myself.

Around 30 minutes till, I grabbed my keys and started my car. Even if I took my time, I would be able to go to the Costco liquor store and score a decent bottle of wine.





Mood Ring Ch. 08



"I am trying to make it firmer, so it doesn't jiggle."

She said, "I like it," and gave another firm squeeze.

She said, "Why don't you sit down and get comfortable? You are so shy and innocent. I like it.

I don't bite."

I didn't know what to say. I started to compliment her on her tan when she bent in to kiss me.

She said, "Thank you," as she leaned in and gave a quick peck to my lips. She raised her arm to put her hand at my neck while she guided my head into her kiss.

She stroked my upper chest and neck as she began to kiss my lips in earnest.

Her hands stroked along my arm and forearm and suddenly her hands was making contact with my inner thigh.

She gave a quick squeeze and then her hands were again at my breasts.

Her hand stroked my inner thigh and I realized where this was heading. Blood began to engorge my tissues and I felt that tension of smooth and friction as her hand began to travel close to my tender center.

She gave my thigh a little heft and squeeze and asked if I would move to sit at the corner where the benches were joined.

I scooted to the corner and realized that I would be comfortable if I spread my legs so one foot was on one bench and the other sat on the 90 degree opening up my pussy to Anya's attention.

She crawled along the near bench like a lioness stalking her prey.

She straddled my right leg and told me that I had a pretty pussy.

I couldn't help my hand from gliding over my pussy. The sweat and excitement had me wet and her hand began to contact my thicker labia.

I told her, "It's really getting warmer now."

"It's getting hot in here?" she smiled and started to glide her hands across my stomach and then to my breasts.

She looked down at my pussy and asked, "Are you going to let me taste that?"

I giggled again and nodded yes.

She stroked my swollen center a few times and then bent in to get her taste. 

" Ummm it looks so good!," and she then reached in with one had to spread my lips and began to lave my vagina with her tongue.

I was swollen with desire and as she licked me like a lollipop, I began to experience the sweet agony of a sexual build-up of desire.

She told me that I was getting wet and moved so that she could kiss me as she kept her hand at my pussy. 

She moved in to kiss me again and I felt one finger penetrate me.

"Oh, Francis, you are so tight."

She stroked her fingers inside of me a few more times and then withdrew her hand.

She bent down and began to lick and suck on my excited sex.

She would take her tongue and trace the cleft above my clit indirectly placing some pressure on the sensitive tissue. Then, she would make her tongue firm and seek the crease between my outer lips and the inner. Her warm moist tongue was leaving a trail of desire and she wandered around my delicate landscape; teasing, prodding and probing for the source of pleasure like a prospector surveying for the mother-lode.

She abruptly changed tactics (I guess she found the treasure trove) and began to delve in earnest.

She would flatten her tongue so it was wide and begin to lap at my pussy, dragging her tongue from the lowest border of my creamy slit right above the perineum, through the gap of my vagina forcing the moist labia apart. She would then point her tongue as she penetrated my steamy split and make a scooping motion as she barely made contact with my swollen clit. The sensation of her tongue barely grazing my inflamed enlarged clitoral hood only stoked the flame of my desire.

She repeated this until I was whining and moaning with pleasure. I began to writhe and wiggle on the bench. 

She then suddenly stood up, turned around, and made to sit in my lap. 

Whoa, major gear shift! 

I was left panting and throbbing and feeling a little bit like a racing automobile that had almost crossed the finish line, but instead found that the road had ended and now was in a freefall tumble.

I scooted back a little and she sat down at the angle of the bench with her back to me.

She had to have known I was so close. God I was so horny right now!

She leaned back as she sat down and her toned buttocks pressed against my inner thighs. My mons was alive with sensation and I realized that her firm flesh was cupping my sex and we were intimately connected. Our skin was moist with sweat and silky from the heat and as she pressed against me I sensuously groaned and instinctively embraced her from behind.

She leaned back against me and our velvety skin on skin contact kept me at a fever pitch. She wiggled her ass against me and then arched her back and leaned to a side. Looking over her shoulder, her blue eyes pierced mine and she asked, "Are you ready to finish what you started outside the sauna?"

"Umm...OK?" And then it hit me as I remembered my momentary boldness helping her undress.

I withdrew my arms and placed my hands on her ribcage just beneath her breasts. I leaned in slightly and breathlessly asked, mere centimeters from her ear. "What did you have in mind Dr. Beecham?" 

This time she shivered and replied, "Anything you want Frances, you can have control."

Dang it. I really didn't know what to do. Why does everyone always call my bluff?

I thought, well, the breasts are pretty safe, I have already orally explored them. I began to run my hands across her chest with my right hand as I cupped her left breast with my left hand. She arched her neck and I looked over her shoulder and down and immediately had the sensation that I was looking at my own body, but with different sized breasts. I noticed immediately her breasts projected farther from her ribcage than mine. They were smaller, but still had substantial fullness. I supported the weight in one hand and stroked the tissue forward to stimulate the nipple. I realized that this was much like my shower masturbation and I could do this.

My attention soon had her pert nipples straining skyward and I began to play with them. I reached up and moistened the fingers of my left hand with my tongue and then took my thumb and index and grasped her erect nipple. I then brought my right hand up to her lips and let her lick them and similarly grasped the right nipple. I looked over her shoulder and pinched and lifted her wonderful conical-shaped breasts away from her body. It looked so erotic and she hissed and groaned as she shifted slightly forward and arched her head back against my shoulder. I released them and they dropped back into position with a slight jiggle.

My right hand settled on her stomach. I was still a little hesitant to go any further. She noticed and taking my hand in her own, she guided me to her wet pussy.

As she leaned back against me, she took her hand over mine and guided my fingers to her mons and pressed her fingers into mine causing them to spread across the tissue. She then guided my hand into small circles putting pressure on her vessel of Venus. I looked over her shoulder, my left hand had frozen in mid-grope and I held the fullness of her tit. I saw the smoothness of her groin, our hands and her ruddy labia peeking out.

She then took my hand and raised it to her mouth. She enveloped my middle two fingers with her lips and sucked them into her warm mouth. She ran her tongue all over them and made them slick and very wet. It was very arousing as I felt the sensation of warmth, wetness and muscular strength gliding over my thin digits. I scooted forward again to make contact with her butt cleft and started to softly grin against her.

She sucked my fingers deeply a time or two and then taking my finger out of her mouth, returned my hand to her groin.

"I want you to finger fuck me Frances. Please? Use both fingers, I need this so badly!"

Oh dear god, Show time!

She removed her hand from mine and I was all on my own.

Again, I remembered back to my shower masturbation and marshaled onwards. I took my moist middle fingers and began to explore her clit. I noticed it was so different than mine. Her clit hood was freaking huge and she had substantially more tissue framing her vaginal opening. My labia barely projected from my slit until I was excited and even then, they were so rigid that the felt like two fleshy blades of a flower petal. Her labia were much more undefined and I played with them with my fingertips just to try to sort through what I had to work with. I was a bit focused on the task of locating things until she began to gently moan and tell me that what I was doing felt wonderful; that I was teasing her like I had done this before.

I giggled, but quickly tried to disguise it with a small cough. I then noticed a firmness of tissue that began to swell and grow in the center of her fleshy mass. Interesting, was that her clit? Sweet honey, she was getting a noticeable clit erection. I took the two middle fingers of my left hand and captured it underneath the hooded tissue. It was a big as my thumb! No wonder she had been able to penetrate me with it last night.

I kept her clit trapped between my fingers and dropped my right hand and began to fan and stroke the engorged tissue. I raised that hand to her lips and she dutifully licked my fingers and palms. That surprisingly felt really good. I then palmed her hood till she was moaning and bucking. This was going better than I thought it would.

I released her clit and grasped her left breast with my left and began to gently tweak the nipple. I really like to play with her breasts. They were so my different than mine. I had a lot more mass and substance, but hers had such an interesting shape and definition. It turned me on to support and to hold her full titty in one hand and to be able to engage in nipple play at the same time.

I began to explore her cunny with my right hand and began to stroke her fully engorged pussy lips. She was really wet and I quickly separated her tissue with my fingers to find her seeping well. I now felt her smooth clit nub and after dipping my fingers along the slit to collect her moisture, began to stroke it with a circular motion. She writhed and bucked against the sensation.

My fingers were now totally lubed and dripping with her copious secretions and before I could really think about it, I penetrated her with both fingers. So strange! It felt familiar, but different. Her vagina walls were really spongy and I could tell she was close to coming from the play and teasing. I curved my fingers slightly and began to thrust in and out of her very slowly.

She began to buck her hips in rhythm with my thrusting and soon we were moving in concert. I would occasionally change the rhythm, but she quickly matched my movement.

Her moaning began to get more frantic and her breathing became heavier and more labored.

I began to curl my fingers and felt for the rough spot on the top of her vagina. My slippery fingers felt the rough texture of her g-spot and I pressed on it at the end of my thrust. She responded by crying out loudly and grunted in exertion.

Her clit by this time was actually rubbing against my palm and I started to feel a sympathetic buzzing in my groin. Was I going to come just from finger-fucking her? I was so turned on by all this.

My hand was so slippery and the sensation was heavenly. She started to hold her breath and froze, so I took my hand and savagely thrust my entire hand at her swollen cunny. My two fingers were completely penetrating her to my knuckles and bang against her outer lips with my index and pinkie.

She cried out, "Oh, that's it! Keep doing that!" 

She came very hard. I could feel her vagina contract against my fingers and she got really wet and frothy. She began to really buck and move her hips and her vaginal muscles grasped my fingers tightly as I kept them in her. My palm ground against her clit and it felt like a fingertip was stroking against my palm. She grabbed my hand and kept it pressed against her as she gyrated wildly. I was so close. Her buttock movement, the sensation of her clit against my wet palm and the walls of her vagina clenching my fingers had me straining for bliss.

She began to come down and small aftershocks racked her body as her breathing returned to normal. She simply relaxed against me and she turned her head to give me a kiss.

I was still on the cusp of an orgasm and was panting heavily.

We embraced and tenderly kissed; romantically, our kisses were so soft. 

She told me, "Well, Frances, you just gave your first lesbian orgasm. It was indescribable. I think you are a natural at this."

I was still turned on and dripping with need. She told me. "Get on your hands and knees," and took my hand as she stood up so I would get to my feet also.

She motioned at the bench and I leaned over and away from her and placed one knee on the bench and my two hands on the seat. She walked up to my ass and grabbed my hips to position me the way she wanted me. I looked over my shoulder at her and I swear her eyes were smoldering from desire as she thrust her groin up against my dripping sex.

She took her right hand and slapped and grabbed my right cheek causing me to jump and shriek a little. I generally like sex to be soft and sensual, but right now, I was so aroused that I wanted something a little rough. The slap on my hot sensitive skin was a sharp sensation and I loved it. I playfully groaned out an inquisitively playful whine.

She leaned into me so her breasts were against my back reached up with her left hand and grabbed my shoulder pulling my towards her slightly. She asked, "So, you like it a little rough?" I didn't reply but instead shut my eyes, smiled and ground back against her.

She stood up and placed her left knee on the bench like mine, took her right hand and spread my legs a little so that I was a little wider in my stance.

She then took the flat of her hand and lightly began to slap my cunt rhythmically for a few seconds before rubbing deeply along my entire groin.

"She asked, "Do you like it when I spank your pussy?" Well, not usually, but I heard myself musically groaning " Uhn-Huh," in a sexy affirmative.

I was more squatting against her hand and she leaned over and began to kiss my shoulder as her hand began to lightly tap my nana. She reached up and told me to lick her hand telling me I was so wet I should taste.

Her hand began to slap my sensitive tissue as she ground her breasts against my lower back and she licked my shoulder blade.

She took the fingers of her hand and penetrated my with the middle two, I sharply caught my breath as she spread my sugar walls.

"Oh yes, Finger fuck me!" I whined. She reached up with her left hand and pushed me so I was again leaning over on my hands. She raised my butt in the air and then began to stroke me in earnest with her index and middle finger.

I could feel my face getting flushed from the heat and from the sensation. I looked back at her and saw her leaning against my ass with her left arm and moving into me with her right. She smiled at me and I lay my chest shoulder and head down against the bench so that my ass was I in the air.

I reached back with my right hand and began to rub my clit as she pistoned in and out of me with her fingers. I was in heaven

The heat stung my lips. I had applied a plumper so they were already sensitive; the heat only enhanced the sensations. We were naked and sweating freely in the sauna. It was very cleansing and I was enjoying the sensation of purification and of sex.

She continued to stroke me and the sensation mounted. She then reached over and lightly licked my butthole. Yikes!

My orgasm began to build and I was moaning and groaning and started to move against her hand.

"Harder?" She started to increase the pressure and frequency and soon, I blossomed in a bright explosion. I cried out and dropped forward to lay on the bench seat as I lost conscious control of my muscles. Anya followed me with her fingers still in me and held me as I shuddered and quivered from my bliss.

I turned over and she quickly straddled me. My right leg was up on the bench seat and she grabbed my left leg and scooted my hips by placing her hand underneath my knee and lifting so that soon my ankle was in the air and she was leaning over my pussy with her groin. She took one hand and started to spread her cunny lips as she lowered herself towards my exposed pussy. I was super wet from my recent orgasm and she settled against me with her slick swollen tissue.

She started to grind against me and I could feel her feminine sex mate with mine. This was so much more intimate than I had remembered even from last night. I groaned and reached to grab her thigh as she started to pant and moan from the exertion. She grabbed the top of my left foot with one hand and reached down to spread her labia with the other to increase our contact.

She was grinding really hard and I could feel her sliding across my valley as our lips mashed together.

She took my big toe in her mouth and began to suck on it.

We began to rock and I heard the wet slapping of our pussies as we started to bang a little harder against each other. She was lost in exertion and I was grasping for purchase against the side and back of the bench.

I came again so soon on the heels of my last strong orgasm and simply lay there as pleasure and Anya coursed over my body.

She started to rub more frantically and I was weak from my ecstasy and simply watched her come all over my gently humming pussy.

She took my left foot and placed it between her exquisite breasts. My foot nestled in her cleavage and she leaned heavily against my leg causing my foot to press firmly against her chest. As she leaned against my foot, I felt her thighs start to contract and press together. A small jet of liquid seemed to suddenly drench me and she cried out. I watched her face contort and grimace and she flushed a dark shade of crimson as she held her breath and ground down hard against me.

She took her hand and stroked her clit as she rhythmically clutched and released. She slowed down as she started to come down and she leaned over and draped herself across me entirely drained.

All she said was "Wow. Lightning can strike twice."

She sat back and I sat up. We embraced and we kissed as our breathing slowly began to slow down to normal.

I looked at Anya with her still exquisite but formerly flowing air that was beginning to plaster to her skin and suggested, "Let me braid your hair."

She was total into it and said yes. 

I ran my fingers through her hair massaging her scalp and she purred in delight. I braided her hair tightly in an inverted French braid and finished with a tight bun. (Her straight blonde hair was full and totally long and made a substantially thick "updo" bun.)

 She looked so hot! I admired her long slim body. Her unmistakably feminine curves were pleasing to the eye and her tan and blonde bun underscored her sexiness.

I quickly realized that it was getting too hot to bear and I asked if she would like to take a break. I had gotten slightly sunburnt from my afternoon contemplation at the beach and my skin was starting to get uncomfortable where the sun had kissed me.

She replied yes and we exited.

The steam boiled out of the door when Anya opened it and as soon as I stepped out, the cool air of the outer room hit my glistening skin and I felt immediate relief.

Anya walked over to the small wooden table holding the platter and picked up the two remaining shot glasses handing one to me.

I took it and raised it to her, she matched my motion and we touched glasses and threw them down.

The alcohol burned in that cool way , enlivening my tissues making an internal counterpoint to the effect that the sauna steam had on the skin and muscles of my body.

She offered me the plate of cucumber and anchovy; I selected one of each and ate.