Clia Johansen sat at the very back of the darkened auditorium fighting to keep her eyes open. At the podium Professor Roberts rambled on about Alexander the Great or Hannibal or some other long dead person that Clia really couldn’t care less about. She had been dumped in this class to fill her history core requirement and hated it with the same passion she hated Algebra and Biology.
Clia was going to be a writer and she detested wasting her time in mundane courses when she felt she should have been taking more important things. Unfortunately for her the school had a large number of journalism majors and all the good classes were filled with upperclassmen before she was allowed to register. Her faculty advisor, an old bat named Mrs. Krieger had suggested she knock off a lot of her core classes and worry about the writing classes when she was a junior. So instead of sharpening her skills as a writer she was the only sophomore stuck in an auditorium full of freshmen and one of several students trying not to fall asleep while the professor droned on.
Clia had chosen the second to last row on purpose. Partially to avoid the notice of the prof, she was sure she would be sleeping away many of his lectures and partially to avoid unwanted attention. She had avoided the very back row because she knew in classes like this the Profs often had TA’s patrolling to make sure the students weren’t napping.
Clia was tall and had the blonde hair, big bust and fair skin that were a gift of her father’s Swedish forbearers. Her mother’s only real contribution to her looks had been the dark eyes and soft features of her Greek ancestry. She was exotically beautiful and wore baggy clothes and no makeup to down play her looks. Clia told herself she wanted to be known for her writing and not her looks, but secretly she had never been comfortable with the attention the young men had been giving her since high school.
Whenever she thought of this she was forced to grin. Here she was, hoping to be a writer of love stories and she had never even been in love. She had won a few local awards for her erotic poems and she had never even more than kissed anyone. I should be in a class learning about writing, not wasting my time in this godforsaken auditorium, she thought. I hate history.
The softly accented voice behind her startled her and she turned towards it without thinking. The speaker was a girl seated behind her and one seat to her left. She was small and had a very lush figure with dark curls and dark eyes. The indirect light made her olive skin seem to shine and the short skirt and poet’s shirt accentuated her heavy breasts and wide hips. Her long legs were bare and beautifully sculpted. From her vantage point Clia could almost see up the girl’s skirt and blushed in confusion when she realized she was trying to do just that. The girl’s dark tresses were held back by a green hair band with tiny golden leaves embroidered into it. Her dark eyes seemed to be bottomless and very wise for someone so young.
“I’m sorry, did I say that out loud?” Clia stammered.
“No silly, I read your mind,” the girl replied in that same softly accented voice. It was musical, melodious in it’s own way, but deeper than Clia would have expected and the accent was very sensual.
Clia wasn’t sure if the girl was being sarcastic or not. Obviously she has said it out loud, she felt like she should be angry but was unsure of exactly what she should be angry at.
“You still haven’t answered my question, why do you hate history?”
Clia glanced around to make sure no one had noticed them talking in class, but everyone seemed oblivious to them both. She felt like she should resent that last statement. The implication that she was expected to answer annoyed her, but she found herself fascinated with this girl and her strange accent. She wanted to impress her for a reason she could not define. Not wanting to sound like your average college kid complaining about classes and professors she thought about it a moment before carefully wording her answer.
“I am going to be a writer. I don’t need to know all this stuff, I mean really, it’s not pertinent to my life,”
“Indeed? What exactly do you write that is so brilliant that it allows you, an author, to claim a right to ignorance?”
“I write love stories, epic romances, love poetry, I don’t need to know anything about history for that. I mean, they are all long dead so who cares? And I am not ignorant!”
The girl chuckled softly and picked up the single book on her desk. It was a large volume, like an unabridged dictionary. She slipped it into the simple canvas bag she carried and picked up the black instrument case on the floor by her desk.
“Ignorance is not becoming to anyone especially an author,” she said.
“Stop calling me ignorant!” Clia exclaimed as her anger finally overrode whatever power had been in possession of her before.
“As you wish,” the girl said as she stood up, “class is over, by the way, Miss. Know-it-all,”
Clia turned to find Professor Roberts gone and most of the students as well. She turned back to find the dark haired girl had vanished as well. Wondering how she could have missed an auditorium full of freshmen bolting for the doors like a cattle stampede she grabbed her books and walked briskly out the double doors.
By the time she reached the quad Clia knew she was cutting the rest of her classes. She wasn’t feeling quite right and wanted nothing more than to get to her apartment and lie down. The long walk to day-student parking left her feeling even stranger, her skin was tingling and she was short of breath. The interior of her little Celica was broiling and by the time the air conditioner finally began to make some headway she was bathed in sweat.
Once home she stripped off the sticky clothes she had been wearing and turned the small window unit in her room to full. Something was wrong, but she could not decide what it was. It was a feeling the likes of which she had never known. Clia decided to take a quick shower before putting on clean clothes. She started the water and waited for it to get hot. Her father had always teased her about liking hot showers even on the hottest of days. He was second generation Scandinavian and loved the cold. Clia took after her mother there and preferred it to be warm, but she didn’t tolerate it being hot well either. She climbed in and pulled the curtain letting the hot steam engulf her. There was nothing in the world that relaxed her like a hot shower and soon her mind began to wander.
Who was that strange girl, she thought. Why have I never noticed her before? What kind of accent is that anyway? Clia remembered what the girl looked like, the dark eyes, beautiful skin, heavy breasts, and long legs. She was startled to hear a low moan over the pounding spray of the shower. She was even more startled to realize she had made it. She was shocked to find her left hand gently massaging her pubic mound. Confusion, embarrassment, and arousal all mingled to leave her standing as still as a statue under the spray. Clia forced the girl from her mind and quickly finished her shower.
She dried herself briskly and returned to the now cold bedroom. Clia put on a comfortable bra and panties and pulled her big nightshirt on. She curled up in the bed and closed her eyes. She was asleep almost instantly.
She was standing on a beach with incredibly blue waters lapping at the shore. In this distance was an island that was dark and close to the water and it resembled a woman in repose. The sun was directly behind it, lighting the sky in a series of layers, purplish at the horizon, turning to a rosy red, then a fiery red with yellows and oranges above that and the deep blue of the heavens on top. Clia could not tell if it was rising or setting, but it was breathtakingly beautiful. A woman sat on the edge of the sand before her with her back resting on a large moss covered rock. She had a stylus in her hand, and a tablet across her knees and penned lines occasionally with a dreamy expression. Her clothing consisted of a simple white dress cut in a style Clia had never seen before although it seemed very archaic. The woman’s eyes never seemed to leave the island and Clia’s eyes were drawn back to it, as the sun fell she realized it seemed the island had changed, it still resembled a woman but she seemed to have moved now and the small knoll that was her bust seemed more prominent.
Clia sensed a presence behind her, but try as she might she could not turn her head from the scene of the writer and the beach. She started when long, olive arms slipped around her waist and a soft pair of lips grazed her exposed shoulder.
“What? Who’s there??”
The arms pulled her back against a warm soft body with large breasts and wide hips. The lips kissed up the rise of her shoulder and then up her neck while the hands gently stroked her hips. It felt so sensuous and so nice Clia was caught between fear and enjoyment. She struggled to turn her head, but all her efforts were in vain. When the lips reached her ear small sharp teeth seized her earlobe and firmly nipped causing her to gasp.
“Ohhhh, please, what’s going on?”
“Shhhh, it’s just a dream child,” a vaguely familiar and softly accented voice whispered in her ear.
“Why can’t I turn around?”
“It is not time yet for you to see me. Now, relax, no harm will come to you I promise,” the voice whispered seductively. The warm breath on her ear sent a shiver through her and when the soft tongue returned to lightly trace her earlobe a stab of excitement shot through her.
“Where am I?” she asked, the question seeming inane as soon as it left her mouth. In a dream you idiot, she answered herself.
“On an island in the Aegean sea,” the voice replied as the hands traveled up her body to cup her breasts. Clia gasped when they began to gently knead her tits and she had to bite her tongue to keep from moaning out loud when the thumbs grazed her nipples.
“Who is that woman?” she managed to ask, trying to find something to focus on other than the magical hands and sensuous lips.
“She is a poet, from long ago,” the voice replied in a breathy whisper. It returned to delicately tonguing her ear and Clia found it hard to think. The hands on her breasts were gentle but firm, and they slowly built the pleasure of their manipulation until her nipples ached.
“What does it matter? She died a long time ago,” the voice replied before the lips slipped back to her neck.
The writer’s face was now rapt and Clia was shocked to see the woman’s hand had left the tablet and was now rubbing gently between her legs. Clia gasped again when one of those magical hands slipped down her tummy to massage the crotch of her panties. She felt certain her own expression mirrored that of the poet.
“Please, I have to know, who is she?”
The hand rubbing her crotch slipped under the waist band of her panties and the contact of that soft skin on her own excited flesh nearly made her cry out. The index finger forced it’s way between her now slick lips and began to deftly stroke her clit. Clia’s pelvis humped involuntarily against that hand.
“Ohhhhhhh.. please,” she moaned. Clia was no longer sure if she were begging for the woman’s identity or for release.
“You would know her as Sappho, this is the Isle of Lesvos, and perhaps history is not as uninteresting as you think?” the voice said. There was amusement in the tone, but before Clia’s reeling mind could put all of the information together the fingers suddenly squeezed her clit.
Clia came awake as they dying echo of her scream reverberated around her room. Her nightshirt was up over her bust and one hand was squeezing a breast. Her other hand was wedged between her legs and still furiously stroking her throbbing clit. Her hands slowly ceased their attentions as the powerful waves of her orgasm passed. She felt so calm, so relaxed and almost drifted back into sleep before her mind put all the pieces together.
Sappho! Lesvos! Those lips and hands! That voice! She sat up violently in her bed while her eyes darting around the room seeing nothing. In her mind’s eye she was still seeing a sunlit beach, with a small woman masturbating as she wrote. As the image faded her bedroom slowly replaced the beach and her breathing returned to normal.
“What a dream,” she muttered to herself.
Friday was the worst day of the week for Clia. Not only did she have to contend with the anticipation of the weekend making her classes seem longer, but also she had four in a row and she detested them all. She looked at the stack of books on the dresser as she rose and winced. Algebra, Biology, Chemistry and Statistics books sat there, seeming to taunt her. She cursed her adviser and herself as she stripped off her nightshirt. While it was true that she would have all of her math and science requirements filled after this semester, she was beginning to doubt she could pass them all. Looking at the books again as she stepped out of her panties she realized she hadn’t done her algebra homework again. She was saying a quick prayer that the Prof wouldn’t take up homework when she noticed the tell tale stains on the crotch of the pink garment.
The dream flooded back into her head as vividly as it had been the evening before and Clia blushed deeply. She rarely masturbated, and never while thinking of a woman. The entire episode left her feeling confused and a little disconcerted. The panties in her hand were stark evidence of her excitement and pleasure and she quickly tossed them in the hamper by the bathroom door. This brought her eyes to the clock on the wall and she realized she was going to have to run or she would be late. The prof always took homework from late students and she just couldn’t afford a zero in his class.
Clia ran a quick shower and threw on the first things that she pulled out of her drawers. A red bra and panty set, tight jeans and a white tee shirt. She was already in the car and on her way when she noticed that her bra could easily be seen under the shirt. There was no time to turn back and day student parking was almost full. Clia jogged to class and made it a full fifteen minutes early. This class had assigned seating and she had just settled in when she noticed several guys in the front row whispering conspiratorially and looking her way. The sniggering, obscene gestures and hungry looks made her want to find a hole to hide in and she had never been so happy in her life to see the professor come in and call the class to order. The moment she dismissed the class Clia practically ran out of the class and from the building. She couldn’t bear the thought of one or more of those guys approaching her.
Biology was in an auditorium and she sat near the back. It was dark and she received none of the stares that had so unnerved her in the smaller classroom. It was cool and dark and as the professor droned on about mitosis she began to nod off.
She was standing on the beach again but it was darker. The sun smoldered on the very edge of the waters turning them a molten red. The poet was still there, her hand still inside her toga, but she was no longer staring at the island. Clia followed her eyes to see two nude figures entwined on a blanket that had been thrown carelessly on the white sand. The two figures were writhing in each other’s embrace as the poet watched. Something was different this time and it took Clia a few moments to realize she was alone this time, her phantom lover was not there and she could turn her head and examine things freely. She glanced back to see towering cliffs, but her attention returned to the poet.
As Clia watched she said something in a language Clia did not recognize and the two figures on the blanket changed positions. The poet’s free hand slipped inside the neckline of her gown to caress her breast as she watched the two figures on the blanket. The motion of her hands was slow, sensuous and unhurried, but it belied a pent up intensity. Clia felt that the poet would bring herself to the edge of bliss, but would not allow herself to cross over. Once in that heightened state of arousal she would take up the tablet and write. Clia had used the same technique, minus the visual aids, in her own erotic poetry.
The strange scene before her piqued her curiosity. Clia wondered just what it was that the poet found so engrossing and so powerful that it could move her to write verse that was still held in highest regard centuries later. Clia moved closer and closer, intently scrutinizing the poet as she played with herself. Her expression was indescribable, a mixture of abandon and concentration, while her dark eyes were wild, euphoric and dreamy all at once. Clia stood close to the writer now, and she observed the soft rippling of the woman’s small breasts under the tunic. Clia could see the thick black pubic hair that covered her mound and could smell the musky aroma of her arousal faintly on the breeze. The woman’s hands moved quicker now, but as Clia had predicted the poet tore her hands from her body before orgasm overtook her. She snatched at the tablet like a drowning woman would grab a live preserver and began to write at a frantic pace.
The poet’s eyes lifted from the tablet to the two figures and then back to the tablet as more lines poured from her hand. It was then that Clia realized she wasn’t visible; the poet had looked right through her. Entranced by watching the artist at work Clia had totally forgotten the figures behind her until a ragged moan eclipsed the sound of the surf and brought her attention back to them. It was no surprise to Clia that both of the nude figures were women. In the position they were in she couldn’t see either of them well. They lay one atop the other, but inverted, so that she could see the woman on the bottom’s long legs and only the top of the other woman’s head and her back.
Clia felt drawn to them, and moved closer making no more sound than the wind across the sands. The woman on top was small with a thick head of dark curls. She lay on atop the other woman, with her arms under the other’s thighs and her head buried in her lover’s crotch. Clia could see noting of the woman on bottom save her long legs; even her sex was hidden from view by the brunette’s hair, which obscured her hips and inner thighs. As Clia watched the woman on bottom began to thrash and moan. The smaller woman kept her face glued to the bucking hips of her lover and without warning an animalistic howl rang out. The long legs tensed fiercely and then slowly relaxed. Clia had moved closer or perhaps it was just a trick of the dream, but she was looking down on the pair when the brunette’s head came up.
Clia gasped and sat up straight in her seat. The students near her turned to look at her, many smiled sympathetically and returned their attention to the black board. Clia wrote furiously, trying to get all the notes on the board that she had missed, but her thoughts were disjointed and slow. Only with great effort could she keep her thoughts off what she had seen in her dream. The face she had seen when the brunette had looked up continued to float before her vision. It was beautiful and soft with lovely dark eyes, and a rapturous expression and glistened in the red light with the juices of her lover. It was none other than her mysterious classmate.
Clia stumbled through the rest of her day in a dreamlike trance. She could not seem to make the distinction between reality and her suddenly very vivid dreams. Everywhere she looked she would see her mysterious classmate. She was always a face in the crowd or a glimpsed figure moving just out of her line of sight. If she stopped moving or stopped making her mind focus on something tangible she found herself on that beach drenched in the red of a fading sun, like liquid fire.
She found herself in the cafeteria at a table by herself. She was unsure of how she got there and of how long she had been there. A plate of food was sitting in front of her and a half empty mug of coffee. She sipped the coffee and found it to be cold as was the food. Clia noticed that the place was nearly empty and the janitorial crew was already at work. She glanced at her watch to find it was nearly 4:30. Her last class had been over before noon and she was almost certain she had been to it, but try as she might she could not recall the lecture or the intervening hours.
Once she got to her apartment she felt the overwhelming need to write. On rare occasions she had felt this need, the frenetic, nearly delirious feeling had led to some of her best works. Writing in this manic state, where 10 pages in an hour was not uncommon Clia had discovered a joy that was almost orgasmic. She started a pot of coffee and then grabbed a fresh composition book and several pencils and sat down at the dinette in the kitchen. She opened the composition book and picked up a pencil and fully expected to explode into a frenzy of writing, but instead she just stared at the blank page. She started several times during the next half hour, but never got farther than a sentence or two before she crossed it out and tried to begin again.
By evening she was becoming frustrated and angry. The feeling was there, her body thrummed with it, but the words would not come. Clia passed on going out with her roommates and stayed at the table, she felt certain that inspiration would hit her at any moment and she did not want to be far from her tablets when it did. The hours passed slowly and nothing happened. By three o’clock that morning she had finished two pots of coffee and had two pages of starts crossed out. She was startled by the door opening and her roommates retuning from the clubs.
Sharon was drunk, as usual and hanging on the arm of some blonde guy. Shelly was less inebriated, but was also with a guy Clia had never seen before. Beth was the only one who seemed sober and as usual she was alone. Clia was in no mood to deal with them or make small talk with guys who only had one thing on their mind. She was thankful that they barely spoke to her before heading down the hallway. Only Beth stopped to ask how she was doing. Clia’s frustrated growl of a reply seemed to convince the petite brunette that it wasn’t a good time to talk and she retreated to her room.
Clia’s apartment was one of the many new ones put up to house the burgeoning population of the university. The walls were paper-thin and soon the muffled sounds of sex drifted into the kitchen. Bed springs squeaked and the occasional muffled groan filtered to her ear. The sounds seemed to act as a catalyst and she found herself on the beach of her dreams again. Sharon’s crying out jerked Clia’s mind back to reality. Clia shook her head and went to get more coffee.
I have such odd roommates, she thought as she made her coffee. Sharon was a tall blonde and a complete slut, different guy every night, never had a relationship that lasted more than a few rolls in the hay. Shelly was shorter and stockier than Sharon, but still tall for a woman and platinum blonde. She had just been dumped by her high school sweetheart and was almost as bad as Sharon, but she seemed to be looking for more than just a one-night stand. Beth was the odd ball in most every respect. She was a small, petite, brunette very quiet, though not shy. She went out with them every weekend, but to Clia’s knowledge she had never brought anyone home or gone home with anyone she had met. She was closest to Clia in temperament and was probably her best friend at the university. They could talk, but the enigmatic girl seemed to live apart from the rest of the world and Clia often found her unapproachable. There had always been something there, lying just beneath the surface that Clia could never quite grasp.
Clia returned to the table and her open composition book. The house was quiet now and the rhythmic ticking of her grandmother’s clock seemed to be beckoning her to sleep. Neither sleep nor words would come and Clia was wide awake when first one and then the other guy slipped out of the house. Time dragged on and her false starts came less and less often. She was still filled with the urge to write, but the words seemed to have deserted her.
The sun was already up before she finally gave up and padded down the hallway to her bedroom. She passed Beth’s doorway just as it opened and Beth stepped out into the hallway. She was bleary eyed and her mused hair and dazed expression lead Clia to believe she must have just woken up. Beth wore only a thin t-shirt and black silk boxer shorts, Clia had seen her dressed like this many times, but today she seemed different. Clia noticed Beth’s small breasts and how they stood up and strained against the thin material of her shirt. She found her eye attracted to the gentle curve of the brunette’s hips and noticed for the first time the girl’s firm and shapely legs. Clia’s eyes returned to Beth’s face, the girl was very attractive; there was no doubt about that. She was staring and Clia was startled to realize Beth was speaking.
Beth’s voice startled her and Clia felt her face flush. Rather then respond she turned abruptly and hurried to her room. Clia could feel the brunette’s eyes on her back all the way to her room. Clia’s attempts at sleep were thwarted by the restless energy and feeling that she should be writing. The disturbing encounter with Beth also left her feeling restless and edgy. She tossed and turned in her bed until she finally gave up and returned to the kitchen and her writing tablet.
Clia barely noticed anything going on around her until Sharon asked if she was going out with them. Clia begged off and was actually relieved when Sharon didn’t push the issue. She watched her roomies leave for the evening from her place at the dinette. Sharon wore a tight red mini dress that showed off her figure and left her long legs bare. Shelly had on a white western shirt with a sting tie and black flared skit and cowgirl boots. Beth wore a green body suit with a short black fringed jacket and blue jeans. She also had cowboy boots on and her black Stetson. Must be Bronco’s tonight Clia thought.
She studied her roommates with a detached view that she only achieved when on an insomnia binge. Sharon was pretty, but not overly so. She made up for it by dressing and acting in a way that exuded sex. Guys flocked around her almost as if they could smell sex and she reveled in it. Shelly was a little heavier than Sharon and not quite as pretty. When she had first moved in she had been as shy as Clia, but her boyfriend breaking up with her had changed her. She had become as wild as Sharon, and just as brassy. Clia felt like it was a knee jerk reaction and that she would calm down some over time. Beth was dressed the least sexy, but to Clia’s eye she was the most attractive of the three. She didn’t exude sex appeal, but there was a far away quality to her, something intangible, that Clia found extremely appealing.
What am I thinking? She asked herself. She realized her scrutiny hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. Sharon and Shelly were chatting away about this guy and that, who would be out, where they would go if Bronco’s was dead, but Beth was staring at her curiously. Clia felt herself blush and looked away. She didn’t look up from her blank comp book until she heard the door close.
By the time they returned Clia was close to tears. She had never experienced writer’s block like she was now, and that powerful need to create was making it even worse. On top of that her mind would not stay focused and returned again and again to her mysterious classmate and if she could have admitted it to herself, to her small roommate as well. The swirling emotions, lack of sleep, sexual frustration and buzzing need to write all culminated in a whirlwind that left Clia wanting to curl up in a corner and sleep.
Sharon was draped over the arm and shoulder of a huge guy with a crew cut. Clia decided he must be on the football team from his huge muscles and obvious athleticism. Shelly was with a short swarthy guy with black hair and black eyes. Clia took an immediate dislike to him. He had the arrogant look of an abusive bastard and since that was the kind Shelly went after Clia had no doubt he was just that. Beth was alone as usual, but she seemed far less sober than she normally was. She wasn’t drunk, but just in that giggly state of being buzzed.
Shelly and Sharon made no attempt at conversation; they both had one thing on their minds and retired to their bedrooms without more than a casual hi to Clia. Beth started a fresh pot of coffee and leaned against the counter. She was staring at Clia with an expression that left the tall blonde hot and flushed. She made two cups of coffee then sat down and pushed one across the table to Clia.
“Soooo, whats up?”
“Nothing,” Clia said, hiding her discomfort by looking down to sip her coffee.
“Nothing, why do you ask?”
“Well let’s see, You have been walking around in a trance since Thursday, you haven’t backed out on us going out two days in a row since you were sick last semester, You haven’t eaten or slept in two days, you tell me,” Beth said with amusement evident in her tone.
“Who is it hunny?”
“Who is who?”
“Oh come on, you can tell me. Is it Bobby? Or Jordan?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Cli, you have a crush on someone. It’s so obvious. You can tell me, I’m your best friend,”
“A crush?” Clia asked. It all became so clear to her then. Beth was right she did have a crush on someone and the someone she had a crush on caused her to feel sick to her stomach.
“Okay, so not Bobby or Jordan, a guy in one of your classes?”
“Oh God,” Clia exclaimed. It all came pouring out then, the girl, the dreams, everything. Clia was sobbing by the time she had finished. Beth said nothing, simply listened until Clia had no more to say. She moved to the chair next to Clia and held her as she sobbed.
“Shhhh, it’s not as bad as all that. It’s going to be all right,” she whispered.
By the time class started Tuesday Clia was a nervous wreck. She didn’t know what to say or what to do, she found herself torn between praying the girl wouldn’t be there and hoping she was. Clia arrived in class a half hour early and took her normal seat. She started each time someone entered the room, twisting in her seat to see who it was. Dr. Roberts arrived to call the class to order and there was still no sign of the girl. Clia was not sure what she felt, disappointment of course, but also a curious relief. On the other hand she had to wonder if the girl had ever existed at all outside of her imagination.
Clia found herself listening to the lecture today and actually enjoying it. Rather than being boring she found her mind conjuring up images of times long past. She found her fertile imagination beginning to place characters of her own design in among the historic personalities. She felt the creative energy begin to build inside of her and she hastily pulled out her notebook and began to scribble down ideas.
“You needn’t write so fast,” a soft voice behind her said. Clia stiffened and then slowly turned her head. The girl with the dark eyes was sitting behind her. Today she wore a simple white dress with a modest neckline and hem that fell to mid calf. Clia felt her breath catch, she had never seen anyone so lovely and her heartbeat quickened in her chest.
“I…I mean…” Clia stammered.
“I am going back to my apartment after this class. Will you come with me?” the girl asked in that soft voice Clia had come to love. Clia tried to respond but no words would come. Her heart was hammering in her chest and it hurt to breathe. She was so confused, pulled in so many different directions and so unsure of her feelings and of herself. This strange girl was inviting her back to her place and Clia felt sure she knew what for. She was not at all sure she was ready for this, but she knew she could not refuse either. In the end she simply nodded her head.
The class was almost over, but the last few minutes seemed to last an eternity to her. When the professor closed his book and gave out the homework assignments Clia felt herself becoming incredibly nervous. She was sweating and shaking and suddenly not at all sure she could go through with this. The auditorium emptied out quickly and soon it was just Clia and the girl. The girl was standing, her book already in her bag and holding the black case Clia assumed held an instrument of some kind. Clia felt her resolve melt and she tried to think of a way to get out of going. She started to say something, but her eyes caught the girls and she felt her will to resist fade away like ice under the Aegean sun. She followed the girl out of the history building and across campus in an almost trance like state. She did not hesitate to get in the girl’s car with her and throughout the short drive to her apartment not a word was exchanged.
The apartment was small and tidy, very comfortable and pleasant. The girl fixed drinks and sat on the sofa next to Clia. It was only then with their bodies so close together that Clia could find words.
“I don’t know what I am doing here, I must be mad,”
“You are here to begin a great adventure. I, not for what you are now, but for what you can be, have chosen you. In a very short time we shall see if you are worthy of the gift I can bestow,”
“I don’t understand,”
“No, but you shall,” the girl said as she stood. A gleaming light seemed to come from her body and as she disrobed Clia could only stare in fascination. The light became intensely bright, so bright Clia had to shield her eyes, when it faded she was awestruck. The woman who stood before her was not the Greek girl she had known, but a tall, statuesque woman with unearthly beauty and the wisest eyes she had ever seen.
“Do you not know me?” the woman said in a voice that was both musical and wonderful.
“No, I don’t,”
“I am Clio,” the woman said simply.
“Clio? This has to be a dream,”
“No little one, it is no dream. I am the muse and I have chosen you,”
“But, I don’t even like history,” Clia protested. Somewhere in her reeling mind it occurred to her she was arguing with a figment of her imagination. It seemed so real, but so had the beach dream. She wondered if she was dreaming in Professor Robert’s class at this very moment.
“No, but you do not know history, or yourself, but that will change, NOW!”
The final word echoed like a thunderclap and the world spun away in a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors and tints. Swirling patterns of light and color coalesced around her and she had the sensation of falling, but not fast, almost floating downwards. This seemed to last forever and yet happened in an instant. The paradox was such that she nearly blacked out from the influx of stimuli. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the colors but it did not work and she became aware of sounds. Millions of sounds, the roar and clatter of battle, the gentle patter of a summer rain, the voice of a man crying out in pain, the scream of a woman overtaken by ecstasy, the cry of a new born infant, the dirge of a funeral, and so many others. She heard each with clarity, but at the same time they were one cacophonous roar in her ear. She felt as if she would loose her mind and then suddenly all was still.
Clia found herself standing on the beach of her dreams. There was no poet this time, only the Greek girl from her class. She was sitting on the rock that the poet had been leaning on and staring out at the sea. Clia approached her carefully. The girl looked at her and smiled.
“Clio?” Clia asked.
“In one of my many guises. This is the one you are most comfortable with is it not?”
“Yes. Where are we?”
“You have asked that once before, but I will answer again, we are on the Isle of Lesvos, in the Aegean Sea,” she replied with amusement evident in her voice.
“History has no beginning child and no end. If I am to be your guide I had to start somewhere. Your own latent potential and desire lead us here. So it is here that we will start,”
“Your grand adventure. I am going to show you history, show it to you in a way you cannot imagine, and in doing so give you the unique insight into it that will mark you as one of the greatest of writers,” the muse said.
“You have the potential, you lack only the direction and inspiration. You are also unknown to man and you must remain so. Should you ever have intercourse with a man, my gift is wasted,”
Clia was unsure of what to say. She had always planed on getting married and having children one day. That dream was a nebulous one, with no particular husband in focus. For that matter, she realized she was more enamored of the concept than any particular dream or plan. Five days ago she would have laughed if someone had broached the quaint idea of her having a muse. Now she believed with all her being that the mythical patron spirits of creativity existed.
The bargain Clio offered was one that many people would have refused out of hand. Clia weighed the options, but she knew before she finished what she would do. She had always felt a deep commitment to her craft. Now she was being offered the chance at inspiration beyond mortal ken. There really wasn’t that much of a choice to make.
“Show me then,” she said at last.
Clio smiled and nodded. She climbed down off the rock and motioned for Clia to come nearer. Clia approached without fear or trepidation this time. The pretty girl gently touched her shoulder and the world dissolved around her again. The sounds and colors engulfed her again and she struggled to keep her sanity.
“Relax,” the soft voice of the muse urged her, “trust me and let go. No harm will come to you,”
Clia forced herself to relax. The swirling colors and cacophonous sounds crashed in on her and for an indefinite period of time she lost herself in the storm. Slowly the colors began to coalesce into scenes, the sounds wore away to a sound track and time began to flow past her like a river. She was everywhere at once and saw everything that had happened through time. An impartial observer, unaware of her existence as a single being, she watched the rise of Greek culture and it’s fall. She saw huge empires rise and fall in the dense jungles of South America and the long voyages of the Vikings. There was far too much for her to ingest it all, but some things remained clear in her mind even after years had passed. Clia sensed the guiding hand of her muse, directing her attention to specific events and people. The muse’s choices in scenes that stuck out seem capricious but Clia detected a common theme, they were always scenes involving women.
Clia watched the mysterious workings of the cult at Delphi, she saw the high priestess of an Assyrian cult conducting an orgiastic ceremony where all the participants were women, in the far north she watched a woman rise to lead a tribe of Celts on a bloody rampage, and she saw a pharaoh’s daughter control the mightiest empire in the world from behind the scenes. In every case Clia witnessed women in positions of power and authority, women who made significant contributions to art, literature, statecraft and civilization. She was conscious of the fact that none of these women had ever appeared in any of her history lessons.
Clia felt the gentle urging of her guide pulling her attention towards England. She felt her mind slowly focusing first on the island, then on a particular castle, then on one room in that castle. With a suddenness that was disconcerting Clia found herself standing on the cold flagstones in a large room. Clio stood behind her taller now and no longer wearing the guise of her classmate. She could see the muse but she somehow knew that the occupants of the room could not see her.
The room was huge, it’s vaulted ceiling lost in shadows. Tapestries decorated the walls and a large fireplace held a roaring fire. A large poster bed dominated one wall. It was made of intricately carved red wood and the canopy was made of a white gossamer. The coverlet was black and appeared to be silk or satin. Across from the bed a woman sat at a vanity, peering into a burnished steel mirror. She wore a gown of gold brocade with a skirt so full Clia wondered how she managed to sit. Two servant girls were busy brushing out her long golden tresses.
The heavy oaken door swung inward and a woman walked into the room. Clia was instantly struck by the woman’s air of command and power. She was tall and very slim with almost no hips or breasts. Angular was the word that came to Clia’s mind. There were no soft curves, just planes and angles. Even her face seemed sharp and predatory without being unattractive. She wore a simple black dress with a scooped neck that showed off the small amount of cleavage she did have. It was cut high on her hips and slit so that one could see flashes of her bare legs when she walked. Her eyes were dark and so was her hair. Something in those eyes sent a thrill through Clia, a thrill that was part fear and part desire.
Both of the servants turned their heads to glance at the newcomer. Each of them froze and Clia felt they were both feeling the same thing she did, but more acutely. Their impassive faces lit with a hungry look Clia recognized from the faces of the many men Sharon and Shelly brought home. It was pure lust and Clia wondered if her own countenance looked the same.
“Leave us,” the woman said in a commanding tone. Both girls released the blonde woman’s hair and hurried out with their heads down. The dark haired woman watched them go and then sauntered over to the vanity. The blonde never said a word, but her shoulders were hunched, almost as if she expected a blow.
When the dark haired woman took up a brush and ran it through the seated woman’s hair the blonde flinched as if burned. The brunette smiled a wolfish grin but continued to gently brush out the blonde’s hair. She did this for a few minutes in absolute silence and then pulled the woman’s long tresses out of the way and scraped her nails along the blondes shoulder. A hiss escaped the woman’s lips, but nothing more.
“Come dear sister, is that anyway to greet me?” the dark haired woman said. She emphasized the word sister in a way that made it seem ironic.
“Half sister. And only in law,” The blonde said. Her voice was tremulous and had a quality to it that invoked pity in Clia. The dark haired woman smiled and lowered her face to the blonde’s exposed shoulder where she gently traced her lips over the alabaster skin.
“Morgan, please, No…” the blonde whimpered. The brunette paid her not the slightest attention and continued to kiss and lick along her shoulder and up her neck. The blonde’s hands fluttered to her breast and back to her lap ineffectually. She seemed powerless to stop the dark haired woman from taking such liberties as she pleased. “Poor little Gwynevere,” the brunette whispered, “your words say no, but your body says yes,”
“Morgan? Gwynevere? This isn’t real, it’s just legend,” Clia said as she turned on Clio to find the muse smiling at her. The scene before her was frozen, like a move on pause, but unlike it as well. Her mind was reeling and things seemed to have more than one meaning and definition.
“This is your first real lesson, Child. Legends abound and so do myths. In every legend, every myth, every parable however there is a grain of truth. These people existed, as did Arthur, Lancelot and Galahad. They were not necessarily anything like the characters you know but they lived, breathed and died nonetheless. For the historian getting to the truth behind the legends is important. Separating historical fact from popular fiction takes diligence, research and above all a willingness to accept that the legend or myth may be totally factually correct. Watch now what happens here and learn a few of the secrets that have been lost to time,”
The scene before Clia began to flow again as the muses voice faded.
“Morgan please. We can’t!” the blonde implored.
“Bah, just because you chose to marry my simple minded half brother is no reason for me to stop taking my pleasure with you,”
“We can’t Morgan, we just can’t”
The dark haired woman growled and Clia saw anger flash in her eyes. She hurled the brush across the room and grabbed the blonde by the shoulders, bodily jerking the smaller woman to her feet. The blonde tried to pull away but the darkhaired woman spun her around and caught a handful of her long blonde hair. Morgan jerked her head back and fiercely pressed her thin lips to the blonde’s full soft ones, effectively stifling her protests. The blonde’s hands were balled into fists and she smashed them against Morgan’s chest weakly. After three or four times her hands slipped around the brunette’s shoulders and her body melted into the embrace.
Clia could see the brunette’s tongue exploring Gwynevere’s mouth and she felt her own body responding. Morgan released Gwynevere shoulders and scooped the startled queen up into her arms. Gwynevere kicked her legs and under the white petticoats Clia caught flashes of her stocking covered legs. Morgan unceremoniously dumped the queen on her bed and stepped back. She kicked off her sandals and grasped the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head. She was naked underneath and Clia found herself staring.
Morgan’s body was tight, muscular and lithe. She had almost no fat on her and Clia could count ribs and clearly see the woman’s pelvic bones. Her pubic bush was thick and black and it covered her labia and most of her pubic mound. She was not at all soft or lush and her breasts were barely B cups, but she was elemental and powerful and all together sexual. Clia felt the muse’s arms slide around her waist and she stepped back against the woman’s body without thinking.
Gwynevere was staring too and Clia could see the flush on her cheeks. Morgan climbed on to the bed and straddled Gwynevere’s hips. She began to kiss the queen’s neck, lips, cheeks and eyelids all the while her hands plucked at ties, undid buttons and efficiently loosened the queen’s gown. The blonde still seemed hesitant and she struggled against Morgan’s hands, but the fight was not very convincing. The gown seemed to take forever to get undone, but Morgan’s mouth was busy and her hands stopped often to caress and knead. Clia was still a novice, but she had the impression Morgan was deliberately taking her time, slowly working the blonde to an ever higher state of arousal and need.
Clio’s hands and lips were not idle either. Clia felt the soft lips on her neck and the magical hands caressing her hips, but where Morgan seemed intent on immediately arousing her partner, Clio seemed to have the opposite intent. Her attentions were exciting and sensuous, but not urgent and did nothing to take Clia’s eyes or attention from the scene being enacted before her. Morgan dug her fingers into the gown and pulled it down. As it slid across her body Gwynevere planted her feet on the bed and raised her hips. Morgan slid all the way down her body until she was kneeling at the foot of the bed with the rumpled gown in her hands. The brunette tossed the garment to the floor and licked her lips as she stared at Gwynevere. The blonde looked simply delicious, she wore only her white stockings, which ended at mid thigh. Her pale skin and those stocking lying on the black comforter formed an arresting contrast. Where Morgan’s body was all planes and angles, Gwynevere was all curves. Her breasts were large, almost as large as Clia’s and capped with delicate pink nipples. These were hard now and stood out from the small aureoles. Her hips were wide and lush and her pubic hair was as blonde as that on her head. Her bush was thick and luxuriant, but the pouting lips of her labia were easily discernable.
Morgan clucked in her throat and then threw herself on top of the supine woman. Their lips met and Morgan began to hump her hips, forcing her mound to rub against the queen’s. Gwynevere began to respond, her hips pushing up to meet her lover’s thrusts, but as soon as she responded Morgan stopped.
Morgan sat up and began to stroke the blonde’s hips. Her hands lightly traced along the blonde’s skin, brushing her mound but not giving firm contact.
“Perhaps you were right, maybe we should stop,”
“Nooo,” Gwynevere wailed.
“No? But you said we shouldn’t” Morgan teased as her fingers moved to the queen’s now soaked slit and began to slide up and down it. Gwynevere moaned and thrust her hips up, but Morgan kept the contact to just a feathery tease.
“Please,” the blonde whimpered when she realized Morgan was not going to give her any release.
“Changed our mind have we? Well, you know what you will have to do now,”
“I can’t,” the blonde whined.
“Too bad, your little kitty seems to be aching for some attention,” Morgan said as she slipped one long finger just inside the slick lips. Morgan pumped her finger slowly in and out of the queen’s pussy. Clia watched in fascination and the long digit became slick and coated with the queens juices. In and out it sawed with a maddening regularity. The blonde humped against it, trying to drive it deeper. Morgan crossed her fingers and pushed them both in. The queen gasped and her hands slid down her body towards the juncture of her thighs.
“No!” Morgan commanded. The queen’s hands seemed to stop of their own accord and then withdrew.
“If you want to spend, you are going to have to earn it little cow,” Morgan said as she grasped one of Gwynevere’s tits in her free hand and roughly manipulated it.
“Please,” Gwynevere gasped.
“Are you ready then?” Morgan asked in a too sweet tone.
“Then beg for it, little trollop”
“Please, can I lick you? I am dying to taste your spendings,” Gwynevere groaned. Morgan laughed and withdrew her fingers. She moved up the queen’s body and placed a knee on either side of the blonde head while her ass rested on the slope of the queen’s tits.
“Very well your majesty” Morgan said sarcastically, “get to work and lick my quim like the harlot you know you are,”
As she said this Morgan rose up and then pressed her pussy directly to the queen’s quivering lips. Clia could only see the blonde’s eyes and nose but from Morgan’s contented sigh she had to assume that they queen was indeed eating the sorceress’s pussy. Morgan leaned back and rested her hands on the queen’s full tits. She began to pinch and pull the little blonde’s nipples as she started to rock back and forth.
“That’s it harlot, use your tongue. Mmmmm, you are such a talented licker, even better than your serving girls. Maybe I shall have you service both of them, in appreciation for all they do for you. Would you like that? I think you would.”
Morgan moaned and began to thrust her hips back and forth on the queen’s face. She moaned again and then sighed as her hips went into a paroxysm of wiggling and she came. When she finished she slid down the queens body. Clia couldn’t take her eyes off Gwynevere’s face. The blonde’s chin, lips and nose were covered in Morgan’s juices. In the strange light they glistened and Clia was caught between being slightly repelled and wondering what it tasted like.
Morgan settled between the queen’s legs and forced two fingers into the blonde’s snatch. She started to pump them in and out furiously while her free hand massaged the upper part of Gwynevere’s mound. The queen began to jog her hips and make small noises that Clia found very erotic. The Queen’s hands went to her breasts and kneaded them as her orgasm approached. With little warning a cry burst from her lips and she tensed. Her body thrashed violently on the bed and then slowly she relaxed.
Morgan slid up next to her and held the queen in her arms, gently stroking her hair. Gwynevere’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled contentedly and then frowned.
“What are we going to do my love? This cannot last forever,”
“Do not worry my little dove. I have taken steps to insure that Arthur looses interest in you. It will be hard on you at first, but trust me. In time you will be held up as the model of virtue and tragic love, while I will be reviled as a temptress, perhaps even a sorceress.”
“You’re no sorceress, unless one counts the magical way you make this cold body respond to you,” Gwynevere said. Morgan laughed softly and while she smiled and tweaked Gwynevere’s nose, Clia could detect the sadness in that laugh.
“Men must find a reason, and a scapegoat. I do not mind the iniquity I shall have heaped up on me, as long as you are mine,”
“I shall always be yours. No man can stir me to such heights. But tell me, why do you think you will be reviled?”
“I am not without some skill at scrying my love. That old fool of a court magician has shown me a few tricks. But that is neither here nor there. Those idiots are still at the tournament at Trielle so I have hours in which to pleasure you,”
With that Morgan gently kissed Queen Gwynevere and Clia found herself floating back into the altered state of consciousness where she, Clia did not exist. Time flowed once more and Clia watched England enslaved by the Romans. Her eye roamed far and wide, always drawn to the scenes Clio wanted her to witness first hand, but also aware of all that transpired. She saw a redheaded queen lead the Celts in an uprising against Rome, witnessed the orgies and degradations of that fabled city and saw it fall. She saw what really went on in the convents of the dark ages and the nightly escapades in the boudoirs of the nobility. She saw the Spanish enslave the new world, watched fleets of treasure ships sunk and saw England rise to prominence. She was there when an anonymous Corsican woman gave birth to a boy child. She watched this child grow to rule all of Europe.
Suddenly she was herself again, standing on a rainy street in London. She was less disconcerted this time, more comfortable with the drastic shifts in her state of consciousness. A solitary figure, wrapped in a voluminous cloak moved purposefully down the dimly lit and empty street. From the seductive sway of her hips Clia knew it was a woman. The figure stopped outside the doorway to a large home and entered after a moment’s hesitation.
Clia was instantly inside the home watching as a liveried butler closed the door behind the woman. He then gestured for her to follow him and led the way into a richly appointed parlor. A woman was sitting on the settee and glanced up from the book she was studying.
“Your guest has arrived Mi’Lady,” the butler said stiffly.
“Very well Codsworth, you may take the rest of the evening off,” the woman on the settee replied.
“As you wish madam,” he replied and withdrew, drawing the doors shut behind him.
“Do you have them?” the seated woman asked.
The cloaked figure produced a roll of parchment and said, “All is there. Ships complements, sailing times, ordinance and commanders” Her voice was sharp and had an air of command as well as a musical quality, but the accent was soft and undoubtedly French.
“Give them to me, I must get them to Horatio as quickly as possible,” the seated woman said extending her hand.
“Not so fast ma Cherie, there is the little matter of payment,”
“Very well, name your price,”
“You know my price, do not play coy with me. This information is vital and you have no time to waste in coquettish games,”
The seated woman nodded and stood up. Her hands went to work removing the dress she wore while the cloaked figure sprawled in a wingback chair and watched. As the dress fell away in parts more and more of her lovely body was exposed. Finally she stood before the cloaked woman in only her stays. Her body was lush and soft with wide hips, pendulous breasts and long trim legs. Her pubic hair was as thick and curly as the long dark tresses on her head. The seated woman held a finger up and made a circular motion with it. The aristocratic brunette pirouetted slowly on her toes. Her ass was full and shaped like a teardrop. Clia found the woman attractive, but she did not cause a quickening of her heartbeat like the sorceress had.
The seated woman hooked both of her legs over the arms of the chair and pulled her cloak up. She was naked underneath and with her legs spread wide over the arms of the chair her fat labia were exposed. The sparse hair covering her mound was dark, but seemed to have reddish highlights that made it look auburn when the light hit it right.
The finger beckoned and the other woman dropped to her knees and crawled between the widely splayed thighs. There was no hesitation on her part, she used her fingers to pull the prominent outer lips apart and exposed the bright pink inner folds. The brunette pressed her face tightly against the seated woman’s sex and began to lap delicately at the soft flesh. Clia was reminded of a cat tasting something for the first time.
The seated woman sighed and cooed, allowing her body to relax while pressing forward with her hips until her ass rested on the very edge of the chair. Clia watched as the seated woman’s pussy became wet and swollen. The aristocratic woman continued to lick at it, concentrating her efforts on the now erect clit. The cloaked woman’s hands tangled in her lover’s hair and pulled her face tightly against her dripping sex. Her voice became throaty and her breathing ragged as she murmured exhortations in French. Soon her hips began to jog and the aristocratic woman pushed a finger, then two in and began to pump them in and out as she licked.
This seemed to be all the added stimulus the cloaked woman needed. She mumbled something unintelligible and then moaned loudly as her body began to shake. The brunette redoubled her efforts driving her fingers in wildly and sucking the erect clit in to lash it with her tongue.
Slowly the aristocratic woman slowed her attentions as her lover came down from her orgasm. She continued to tongue the seated woman’s slick lips, but it was gentle now and seemed more of a soothing caress. After a while of this gentle attention the seated woman sighed and sat up straighter.
“That was delightful as always Ma Cheri,” she said in the husky but musical voice that Clia was growing to love.
“And you taste as divine as you did when last we met my love, but I really need to send that information on,” The brunette replied seriously.
“Very well Ma Cherie, I shall let you take leave for a few moments to get the information on its way, but only if you will allow me to take you when you return,”
“As if you could escape without doing so,” she said as she rose and took the papers. She stuffed them into a leather pouch and hurried out of the parlor. The cloaked woman did not stir from the chair but waited patiently, her hand idly stroking her pussy. After a long time a horse was heard galloping away from somewhere behind the house. Moments later the brunette came in pulling a dressing gown off her shoulders and tossing it over the back of a chair.
“Now my dear, how do we wish to proceed? Do we have time to adjourn to the bedroom?”
“No ma Cheri, it will have to be quickly. My ship must depart while it is still dark for obvious reasons,”
“Damnable war,” the Brunette said and she got on the settee on all fours. She then let her weight fall onto her elbows, which forced her posterior high into the air. Clia could see her pussy clearly; it was open and exposed and also had a slight sheen to it.
“Yes, Damnable,” the cloaked woman said as she approached and sat on the settee. She ran her hands up the brunette’s thighs and then caressed the fleshy cheeks. With a gentleness Clia had rarely seen she pried the aristocrats cheeks apart and then began to tongue her wide open pussy. This continued for some time, until the Lady began to moan and squirm.
The cloaked woman sat back then and slipped a finger into the other woman’s pussy. She worked it in slowly, taking her time and then pumped it in and out for a few strokes before she added a second finger. She continued to gently frig the brunette with two fingers while Clia watched over her shoulder. When both fingers were slick the woman’s copious juices she pressed her two fingers together and laid her index over them to form a triangle. This she pressed forward slowly forcing it into the woman’s spread pussy. A groan was torn from the brunette as the three fingers dilated her opening. She groaned again and whimpered softly as the cloaked woman’s fingers finally sank all the way in.
The sight of the woman’s spread pussy with all three fingers buried in it had a strange effect on Clia. She felt her breath quicken and her nipples harden. The sight was so erotic and so strange, three fingers inside with just the pinky and thumb outside. The cloaked woman gave her lover time to adjust and then began to slowly fuck her with her fingers. As the brunette’s moans grew more and more urgent the cloaked woman slammed her fingers in with increasing force and speed. Clia was fascinated by the spectacle of the aristocrat’s pussy holding onto those fingers, almost as if it did not want them to leave. Soon the room was filled with liquid sounds and the moans of the brunette. When her hips began to jog and Clia was sure she was close to coming the cloaked woman suddenly stopped. She withdrew her fingers until just the tips were still inside and Clia was stunned to see her pull her pinky in under the others and press forward again.
“Ow!” the Brunette gasped.
The cloaked woman ignored her and pressed her hand forward. The tight ring of muscle resisted for a short time and then yielded. The fingers sank to the first knuckle into the tight space and Clia found herself leaning forward to see close up. Clia felt the muse’s hands on her hips, pulling her ass back against the muse’s pelvis, but Clio added no stimulation. She merely rested her chin on Clia’s shoulder and watched the show with her.
The cloaked woman was now working her fingers deeper into the brunette’s pussy. She seemed to be walking a thin line between being gentle and overcoming the resistance to the intrusion.
“Relax ma petite, “ she cooed in that husky but musical voice.
The brunette groaned but exhaled and Clia saw her body relax. The cloaked woman pressed harder and Clia watched in awe as her fingers slowly disappeared. When the wide part of her hand reached the ring of muscle there was the briefest pause and then her hand sank in until her thumb was the only finger visible. With her free hand she stroked the brunette’s ass and whispered endearments to her. Clia watched the aristocrats muscles gradually cease to tense and relax as her body adjusted to being so full.
The cloaked woman began to slowly pump her hand in and out, but adding a twisting motion as well that seemed to drive the prostrate brunette wild. In no time she was thrusting back to meet the cloaked woman’s hand. Her moans were continuous now, but punctuated by little squeaks and groans. The cloaked woman worked her lover up to an almost frenzied state and then pulled her hand out again until Clia could see each finger up to the first knuckle. Clia couldn’t believe what she was seeing when the woman’s thumb slid under the other fingers and she pressed back into the brunette’s quivering cunt.
The Lady gasped then, making a sound that was half surprise and half encouragement. Clia watched as the fingers slid back in, back to the point where the widest part of the hand was caught on the ring of muscle. Clia could see the strain as the muscles in the woman’s forearm stood out.
“My god,” Clia exclaimed.
Before she could say anything more the tight ring of muscle gave and the cloaked woman’s whole hand, right up to her wrist disappeared in an instant. The brunette let out a squeal that Clia could not categorize as surprise, delight or pain. It seemed, rather to be a melding of all three.
“Ohmygod,” the brunette hissed, the words running together into one stream of sound. Her haunches were quivering and the muscles in her stomach and sides were knotting. The cloaked woman held her hand there and did nothing more. Slowly the Aristocrat relaxed and ceased making anything but mewling noises and little gasps. Only then did the cloaked woman begin to work her hand in and out, twisting it as she drove it in. Clia was rapt as she watched it, the small muscled in the woman’s forearm stood out and Clia realized she was flexing and spreading her fingers inside her lover. The brunette’s moans and groans rose to a howl of animal lust as she began to orgasm. Her juices poured down the cloaked woman’s hand in a torrent as her cunt contracted and spasmed around the fist inside it.
When the cloaked woman withdrew her hand the brunette collapsed on the settee and rolled up into a fetal position. The cloaked woman rose and wiped the copious juices of her lover on the outside of the dark cloak.
“That was well worth it,” the cloaked woman said “but now I must go,”
“Wait!” the brunette said, mastering herself and sitting up.
“The information you brought will surely allow Horatio to best the French and Spanish fleet. I have been seeing you for over two years now and have never seen your face, or learned why you betray your country or why you demand carnal pleasure with me as the price of your betrayal. In truth I no longer care, I have found ecstasy in your arms that no man, not even my Horatio can bring me. Will you not answer my questions?”
The cloaked woman stood in deep thought for a while and then she spoke. She was hesitant at first, as if trying to find the words but became more confident as she went on.
“Very well, dear Emma, I will answer your questions. You have held your tongue long enough and I think you are ready for the answers. First the why. Napoleon controls the continent, but he cannot rule the world as long as the English fleet thwarts him. A man who rules the world has no need of a woman, but a man kept from his goal will always need someone to cry to. It is in my best interest that Napoleon controls most of the world, but never all. My price was at first simply a whim, something you could afford to pay for the information I wanted your country to have. That has changed. I have found that sex with men no longer satisfies me and I yearn for my next meeting with you even as I moan in their arms to satisfy their egos. As to my identity, have you not guessed already?”
With that the woman threw back the cloak from her head. The Lady Hamilton gasped, as did Clia while Clio the muse chuckled.
“Josephine!” the Lady exclaimed in shock. The scene froze, like a movie again and Clia looked to Clio.
“Your second lesson. Inexplicable things often occur for a reason. Rarely do the strange twists of fortune so many put down to chance actually depend on luck. In your studies keep an open mind and never accept the trite explanations of so-called experts. Nelson’s victory over the French and Spanish fleet was indeed due in large part to his valor, genius and determination, but he also had the great advantage of the papers you saw exchange hands here. Always look beyond the trite and you will find that fact is often far stranger than fiction.”
Clia nodded and looked back once again at the figures frozen before her. They began to move again, but they were no longer in sharp focus. Her perception expanded and she was once again the impartial observer as time ran by. Wars were fought, empires rose and crumbled, the boudoirs of the nobility were just as jaded and the lot of the common folk just as full of sexual escapades as they had ever been. Everything changed, but nothing really did. Clia saw the millions perish in World War One where men fought for days over a few feet of muddy territory, she saw the vileness, corruption and utter disregard for life of the Nazi regime, she witnessed the repression of the Communists and found herself unable to separate the two, she watched the agonizing fear of a world living under the threat of nuclear extinction and the build up of the cold war to it’s crisis point over the small island of Cuba.
She found herself standing in a conference room. There was a large table with many chairs around it at the center of the room. Seated alone on one side was a tall blonde woman in the dress blue uniform of a U.S. Navy Captain. On the other side was a tall brunette in the drab green uniform of a Soviet Colonel. The blonde was speaking and Clia became aware of the words in that disconcertingly sudden way.
“You’ll never win Colonel, if those ships don’t turn back we will board them and if necessary sink them,”
“Bah, you Americans. So self-righteous, so proper. But you know your blockade is illegal, no one in the world community supports you,” the brunette countered in a strong voice with a charming Russian accent.
“It isn’t a blockade, it’s a quarantine,”
“Play your semantic games, it is the same thing,”
“You are going to start a war,” the blonde said ominously.
“We are going to start a war?!” the Brunette said jumping to her feet, “you are about to start a war!”
“You’re the aggressors here!” the blonde shouted as she rose to her feet.
“Aggressors?! I’ll show you aggressor you bitch!” the Russian shouted and practically leapt across the table, riding the blonde woman down to the floor. Clia was sure they would come to blows but instead the blonde giggled.
The brunette was sucking and licking her neck while her hands plucked ineffectually at the American’s coat. Frustrated in her attempt to open it she took each lapel in her hands and ripped it open sending brass buttons flying. Clia could see the large mounds of the blonde’s breast heaving under her starched white shirt.
The blonde pushed the Russian woman up and ripped her coat open as well. They stared at each other a long moment and then both laughed. When they had mastered their mirth the Russian woman gently kissed the American and then stood up. When the American woman gained her feet there was an awkward silence.
“Are you sure about this solnishka?” the Russian woman said.
“Absolutely,” the blonde said in a sorrowful voice.
“Very well, the rules are the same as last time?” the Russian woman said as she began to unbutton her blouse.
“The same,” the blonde said as she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. The two women continued to disrobe in silence until they both stood nearly naked. The Russian was tall and had an olive hue to her skin. Her dark eyes and dark hair gave her a sultry and exotic look. Her breasts stood out proudly and were larger and fuller than even Clia’s. Her hips were slim and her dark pubes were trimmed into a tight triangle. The pouting outer lips of her pussy were visible and Clia again felt her own arousal at the sight of this lovely creature.
The blonde was even more spectacular. She was shorter than the Russian, but had an even fuller figure and massive tits that a stripper would have envied. Her blonde pubes were trimmed neatly and her pink lips pouted open slightly. Long legs, wide hips and flawless skin set off her blue eyes. She was intoxicatingly beautiful, the kind of beautiful that aroused a pang of jealousy in Clia. She still wore her black garter belt and stockings, which only seemed to add to her sexiness. The two women stared at each other for a few moments and then the Russian removed a coin from her jacket pocket.
“Flip of the coin for first position?”
“I won last time so I will grant the option to you,” the blonde said with a wink.
“I’ll take top then,” the brunette said as she tossed the coin onto the pile of clothes at her feet.
The blonde nodded and retrieved her brief case. She set it on the table and turned the dials on the combination lock set into the cases front. When she opened it Clia could not see what was inside but both women giggled.
“The worlds greatest instrument of diplomacy,” the blonde intoned with mock solemnity.
“Is that the same one?” the Russian asked.
“No, it’s a new one. The old one was thinner. You had unfair advantage with it cause your used to Yuri’s moose cock. This one is even wider than he is,”
“But the advantage is still mine is it not? If it is wider than my pig of a husband’s tool it is far wider than your husbands noodle,”
“That’s true, Bert is such a looser in bed, but you get no advantage,”
“Really? And why is that?” the Russian said as she arched an eyebrow.
“I been practicing,” The blonde said and began to giggle.
Clia’s curiosity got the better of her and she moved around the big table to see what they were talking about. When she did she burst out laughing. The inside of the brief case was red velvet and held a massive double-ended dildo with two bottles of lubricant in a side pocket. The blonde pulled it out and smiled at the Russian.
“Table of floor?”
“Table, the floor allows you to squirm too much,” the Russian said smiling.
The blonde nodded and her face suddenly became blank, like the expression men used when playing cards, Clia thought. The Russians face was just as blank. The blonde handed the dildo to the brunette and climbed up on the big conference table. She lay on her back and spread her legs wide. The Russian handed her the bottle of lubricant and watched impassively as the blonde squirted a large portion into her hand and worked it into her pussy. The Russian took the second bottle and worked a generous amount into her own pussy before adding copious amounts to each end of the dildo.
The Russian girl climbed onto the table and slowly forced a good bit of the dildo into the American. She then straddled her opposite and fed a good portion into her own slippery pussy. She looked down on the American girl and rode up and down a few times experimentally. She adjusted her position slightly and tried again and this time seemed satisfied.
“Whenever you’re ready,” the blonde said between clenched teeth.
“Go,” the Russian said and immediately rode down hard on the thick dildo. The blonde groaned. The Russian woman quickly established a rhythm that was to her liking, driving her hips down and thrusting forward in the same fluid motion. The blonde adjusted her hips to allow the dildo to slide more freely and relaxed. Clia watched the game with interest. She had already guessed that the first one to orgasm would loose.
The Russian girl continued to drive down on the dildo, forcing it deeply into the blonde and herself. The blonde groaned and stuck a finger in her mouth, which she began to suck. Clia was fascinated with the Russian girl. She was like a machine, driving down and forward in a seemingly tireless rhythm. Her brow was knit in concentration and Clia could see she was doing her best not to enjoy it, but Clia could see that each thrust drove the fat dildo as deeply into her snatch as it did into the blonde’s. Her large nipples were hard and Clia could see the sheen on her lips that was no longer just lubricant.
While the Russian girl seemed to be intent on not enjoying what she was doing the blonde seemed to have taken a different approach. She moaned and sighed around the wet finger in her mouth, producing little sounds that were very erotic. She seemed to be totally into the fucking she was getting and Clia felt certain she would cum very soon. The Russian girl reached out and roughly massaged one of the blonde’s large breasts, which caused the blonde to gasp and then moan louder. Her hips began to buck upward meeting the Russian girl’s thrusts so that only a small portion of the big dong was visible.
The blonde’s bucking caused the Russian to release her tit and use both hands to steady herself. She increased the tempo and a smile creased her face. It was obvious to Clia that she knew she was close to winning. The blonde moaned louder and arched her back, apparently on the very brink of cuming and Clia saw the Russian’s face relax. It was almost as if she had said to herself a few more strokes and this bitch is cuming.
A few more strokes and the brunette moaned loudly, the first sound she had uttered since the word go. The blonde responded in an instant. She jerked the finger from her mouth and forced herself up on her elbows. With an almost lightning quickness she reached forward and cupped the Russian’s pussy in her hand. The finger she had been sucking and wetting slipped between the thick lips and started to furiously stroke the Russian girl’s clit.
“Neyt,” the Russian gasped. She was driving too hard to stop and both of her hands were tied up in keeping herself atop the blonde. A few more strokes of her sensitized clit and the Russian girl screamed and went wild riding down on the dildo with rapid, jerky thrusts of her hips as she rode out her orgasm. When it subsided she collapsed on the blonde and lay panting.
“No fair,” she said huskily after she had regained some of her composure.
“All’s fair in love and war,” the blonde responded with a smile.
“I should have known something was wrong, you never get hot that fast,”
“Not true Natasha, just seeing you naked gets me going. That is neither here nor there however, you lost and I won. Another victory for capitalism,”
“Yes, you won, fair and square. I will return to the consulate and prevail upon Yuri to convince the chairman that you Americans are serious and a diplomatic solution is the only possibility of avoiding war,”
“And I will give Bert a nice blowjob tonight and convince him to tell Bob that we are not prepared to fight a war and he should convince the President to offer some face saving options to the Russians,”
“Ugh, I cannot stand the though of your lips upon that man,” the Russian girl said making a face.
“It doesn’t exactly turn me on to be going down on you when I know Yuri has been there either love,” the blonde said with a rueful smile.
“Solnishka, I am tired of being apart. Let us do this one last thing to save the world and then leave it in the hands of others,”
“What are you proposing?” the blonde asked in a suddenly soft voice.
“I will defect. I have already made all the preparations. I am prepared to never see mother Russia again, but I can only make that sacrifice if it means having you as my own,”
“Oh Nat! I thought you would never ask. As soon as this is over I will start divorce proceedings with Bert. I have proof he’s fucking that little cunt Lieutenant secretary of his,”
“I will meet you in London in six months then. I am defecting through the offices of the British secret service. Where will we go from there?”
“I don’t care,” the blonde said hugging the Brunette tightly to her, “as long as I’m with you anywhere will be heaven,”
The scene faded and Clia found herself standing in blackness. She looked around in a panic but Clio was there beside her.
“My time grow short little one. Do you know what lesson this taught you?”
“Ummm.. That I have to pay close attention to the minor players. History is filled with great people making earth shattering decisions, but often it is not they, but the nameless faceless people who do the most?”
“That’s very good and true, but not what I wanted you to take from this,” Clio said with a smile.
“I don’t know then,” Clia said.
“The lesson here is that love can move mountains. Any divide, even that as great as east and west can be bridged by love. Even the gap of social acceptance. This last lesson was a personal one. There is someone in your life who loves you desperately. Whether you choose to accept that love or spurn it is up to you. You will always have my guidance and inspiration, but you will never reach the peak of potential you have unless you are happy and fulfilled in life. This lover can bring you such fulfillment and happiness,” the muse’s voice seemed to come from farther and farther away.
“Wait! Don’t leave me!” Clia shouted. She could no longer see her guide in the inky blackness.
“I shall always be with you, but for now I must go. There are laws even the Gods cannot break. Fair the well!”
“Clio? Wait please! Who is it?” Clia screamed almost hysterically.
“Cli? Clia please wake up!” the insistent voice called.
Clia opened her eyes to find Beth looking down on her with an expression approaching panic. The little brunette was shaking her violently.
“Thank god you’re awake! Are you all right?”
Clia looked around and realized she was lying on the floor in the kitchen of her apartment. She sat up slowly, tuning out the frantic questions Beth was asking.
“How did I get here?” she asked at last.
“I don’t know. Professor Roberts stopped me in the cafeteria and asked if you were all right. He said you got up in the middle of his lecture this morning and walked out of class in some kind of trance. I was worried sick,”
“I am all right,” Clia said getting shakily to her feet.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I just need to get some sleep,” Clia said as she made her way to her bedroom. Something made her turn her head as she was closing the door. She saw Beth standing in the hallway wringing her hands with a look of concern on her face that was heart rending.
Clia slept all of the rest of Tuesday away and straight through Tuesday night. It was sometime in the early morning of Wednesday that she felt the presence of Clio. The muse was behind her again and Clia only made one attempt to turn her head. When she couldn’t she relaxed. Clio’s arms slipped around her waist and she shivered when soft lips planted a light kiss on her shoulder.
“Hello little one,”
“Mmmmm, so this is what you meant by seeing me again? In my dreams?”
“Yes, whenever you are troubled or at a loss for words I will know,”
“Now you are troubled, but I cannot help you. I can only say that you should trust your heart,”
Clia nodded and felt those wonderful soft lips on her shoulder again. She sank back into deep sleep and into dreams she could not remember upon waking.
Wednesday Clia woke early and called each of her professors. She told each she was cramping very badly and couldn’t make class. All of them were very sympathetic and told her not to worry. She used this excuse about once a semester when she really needed a mental health day. She had discovered, quite by accident that it was the perfect excuse. Her female Professors all understood and immediately sympathized while her male teachers were all so embarrassed by the subject that they gave her no trouble at all.
Clia was sitting at the kitchen table writing down things she remembered from her journey with Clio when Sharon stumbled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Without her makeup and the false smile she always wore she looked older than her years. Her eyes had a hard edge to them that Clia associated with girls who slept around a lot. Rather than the semi contemptuous feelings she had always harbored against Sharon today she felt only pity. Her trip through time had showed her far to many women who simply couldn’t be happy with themselves. They needed to have their ego’s propped up by attention and sex was certainly one way to get attention.
Sharon said good morning and returned to her room. Beth came into the kitchen about an hour later as Sharon and Shelly were walking out the door. The two blondes had a 7 AM lab together in Butler Hall on Wednesdays and always rode in together. Beth avoided looking at Clia, got her coffee and returned to her room. She came out dressed for class about half an hour later and quietly exited the apartment.
All day Clia wrote, filling Comp book after Comp book with notes, ideas, remembrances and impressions. At 1:00 Shelly and Sharon came back in. Both were chatting and in a bubbly mood. Clia remembered the concert was tonight over in Monroe. Clia was forced to answer the door a few minutes later. The tall athletic guy and shorter guy from the weekend were standing there. Clia let them in and motioned them to the sofa with a distracted wave. She returned to her writing and after a few monotone responses to their questions the guys stopped trying to make conversation.
Shelly and Sharon came out and the four of them left without even attempting to disturb Clia from her writing. Clia barely noticed them leave; she was so engrossed in what she was doing. It was only when she heard the door open around three that she looked up from her nearly full comp book. Beth walked in looking very tired and very down. She started off towards her bedroom with her eyes downcast but Clia felt the urge to talk suddenly.
“Beth? Are you all right?”
“Hmm? Yes, I suppose I am,” the small brunette replied.
“Ya sure? You seem very down,”
“I’m fine. How did it go with your classmate?” she asked with a half-hearted smile. Clia could see that the smile was forced. She was suddenly very curious about Beth’s reason for asking. Clia chose her words with care, watching the smaller girl for her reaction.
“It didn’t pan out. She is not staying in school, in fact I won’t see her again I am sure,” Clia said slowly. Beth’s face showed conflicting emotions but to Clia’s now practiced eye they were as readable as any of her beloved books. There was sorrow there that things hadn’t worked out, but also elation. An elation that was filled with hope renewed. How many times had Clia seen that same mix of emotions in her trip through time? A million? More? She would never know, but for the rest of her life she would be able to read people with an uncanny precision that amazed her friends. The only question left unanswered was why the expression was there.
“I’m sorry Cli, I really am,” Beth said.
“It’s all right. I’ll get over it,” Clia said. Beth nodded and started down the hallway but stopped. Clia watched her as she seemed to be fighting some inner struggle. Finally she turned on her heels and blurted out “Cli, you wanna go out tonight and get some dinner or something?”
“No,” Clia said. Beth looked crestfallen but before she could say anything or turn around Clia continued, “I would rather stay in tonight, but how about we get some Chinese?”
Beth smiled and nodded. The smile was so radiant and happy that Clia found herself smiling. She returned to her writing and Beth disappeared down the hallway. Clia stopped writing and puzzled over that smile and Beth’s strange reactions. It was then that the words of the muse came back to her.
“The lesson here is that love can move mountains. Any divide, even that as great as east and west can be bridged by love. Even the gap of social acceptance. This last lesson was a personal one. There is someone in your life who loves you desperately. Whether you choose to accept that love or spurn it is up to you. You will always have my guidance and inspiration, but you will never reach the peak of potential you have unless you are happy and fulfilled in life. This lover can bring you such fulfillment and happiness,”
The words were the same, but the puzzle behind them was suddenly undone. The final veil of naivety was lifted from Clia’s eyes. Everything made sense to her now. The looks, the glances, the compassion and concern as well as the inapproachability a times all made sense. The someone who loved her desperately was Beth. Clia smiled and shook her head. What a fool I have been, she thought to herself. She realized she had also been very cruel albeit unintentionally. Clia giggled then. Perhaps I can make up for that tonight, she thought.
Clia stepped out of the shower and dried off. She looked at herself in the steamy mirror and frowned. She was getting nervous already and that boded ill. Clia shook off her apprehension and finished drying off. She combed out her hair and then took the make up case from under the sink. She did her makeup slowly and carefully. She already knew what she was going to wear and she knew exactly how she wanted to look. Once she was done she eyed herself critically in the mirror. She released a long sigh and hugged herself tightly. I have no idea what I am doing, she thought.
Clia shrugged off her misgivings and made her way to her dresser. She had never tried to dress seductively for anyone before and she wasn’t at all sure how to go about it. Most of her underwear was functional and comfortable rather than sexy, but her eyes were drawn to the white satin set her mother had given her on her last birthday. The set was still in the gift box and Clia took it out and opened it. She pulled out the tissue paper and took out each piece. First was the white lace garterbelt. Clia had not worn one since her Jr. Prom. To this she attached the white stockings that were packaged in a separate box. Over the garters she pulled up the panties, which were high thighs. The bra was a demi-cup and took a few adjustments before it was comfortable.
Over this Clia pulled on her school sweatshirt and a pair of loose fit jeans. She had thought about something dressier but it wasn’t a date and she didn’t want to seem out of place. She sat on the bed and was tying up her sneakers when she heard the door close. Clia walked out of her room to find dinner on the table. Beth had killed the main lights and lit a few candles.
“Hey Cli, dinner is served,” she said and smiled.
They ate dinner and talked about school, friends, the idiosyncrasies of their roommates and a lot of other things. It was nice and Clia didn’t even feel like declining when Beth produced a bottle of wine after dinner and poured them both glasses. The conversation turned to more intimate things then, life, their plans, passions, and ideas. After her second glass of wine Clia was a bit tipsy but she also felt very mellow. She had forgotten how easy it was to be around Beth, how comfortable the little brunette made her feel, the very reasons they had become such good friends in the first place.
“How bout a movie?” Beth asked.
“I think I have seen all the ones we have a dozen times at least,”
“I have a couple in my room I don’t think you have seen,”
“Just let me pick one,” Beth said with a chuckle and headed to her room. Clia walked over and sat on the sofa, curling her legs under her and snuggling into her favorite corner. Beth came down the hallway with a DVD in her hand and popped it into the machine.
“So what is it?”
“Be patient, It’s a romance,”
Beth sprawled on the sofa, leaning on the other armrest with her legs stretched out under the coffee table. Clia tried to watch the movie but it became apparent to her quickly that neither she nor Beth were spending half as much time watching the movie as they were watching each other. She was at a loss now, unsure of what to do. She had no experience at initiating things and Beth seemed so scared that she was going to do something wrong she was paralyzed.
Clia looked at the smaller girl then. She was absolutely beautiful. She was also so nice and caring and supportive, the epitome of what Clia wanted in her life. Clia made a tough decision then, she decided to go against every reservation she had and try to initiate something. She scooted closer to Beth and curled up next to her resting her head on the brunette’s shoulder.
Beth looked shocked, but quickly placed her arm on Clia’s shoulder and held her tight. Their eyes met and for a long time they just stared. Clia’s eyes darted to Beth’s lips and then back to her eyes. Beth leaned forward hesitantly and Clia did the same, their lips touched almost by accident. Both of them drew back like they had been burned and Clia blushed furiously. Indecision was written all over Beth’s face she started to speak, then to lean close again, stopped herself and then licked her lips.
“Cli, I want to kiss you more than anything in the world, but I don’t ever want to hurt you. Are you sure it’s what you want?”
Clia couldn’t speak. She was shaking like a leaf in a summer storm. Finally she managed to nod. Beth leaned forward again and Clia closed her eyes. She felt Beth’s soft lips upon her own and it sent a thrill through her body. For a few breathless seconds their lips were simply touching, but then Clia felt the tip of Beth’s tongue swirl gently over her lower lip. Clia’s lips parted and Beth’s inquisitive tongue was soon exploring her mouth. Clia was enjoying the kiss when Beth worked her legs under her and then pushed Clia back on the sofa, levering herself on top of the blonde. Through the whole maneuver their lips never parted.
Clia twisted her lower body so her legs were out of the way and Beth settled down between her thighs. Beth’s kiss became more demanding and her hands slid down to pull Clia’s sweatshirt up. Clia just held on to Beth’s shoulders and kissed back. Her small hands found the large soft domes of Clia’s breasts and began to squeeze and stroke them. Clia felt the blood rushing to her center and her back arched. She felt a tenseness building in the pit of her stomach and rising into her breasts until they felt like they would be torn from her chest by the power of the sensations. Clia moaned into Beth’s mouth, which seemed to arouse the brunette tremendously. Her small hands dug into the firm flesh of Clia’s breasts and roughly massaged them while her pelvis rubbed against Clia’s. This new stimuli provoked a small squeal from Clia and Beth instantly ceased all her attentions and broke the kiss.
“I’m sorry Cli. I don’t want to go to far or too fast. I know it’s all new to you, but God you turn me on so,”
“How far do you want to go?” Clia asked when she caught her breath.
“As far as I can get away with,” Beth said and then smiled.
“Seriously?” she replied as her brows knit. She seemed to be fighting an inner struggle over what to say, but reached a decision and took a deep breath.
“I want to fuck your brains out Cli, I have since I first met you,”
“Fuck my brains out? How would you go about that?” Clia asked. Beth smiled and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Never you mind. Suffice to say I could if you would let me, but I don’t expect that from you, at least not yet,”
“How?” Clia asked seriously. Beth started to laugh but managed to keep it to just a chuckle.
“Your naivety is so refreshing. I have a strapon dildo I use with the girls I’m with. I’m what they call a butch. I am attracted to pretty feminine girls. I know I don’t look like what you probably associate the word to mean, but I am,”
“What am I then?”
“Confused,” she said with an impish grin, “And one hundred different kinds of sexy,”
“Seriously,” Clia said as she wrinkled her nose.
“You are what’s called a femme,”
“It means you dress and act in a feminine manner. Femmes are usually attracted to butches, but not always. Femmes can be attracted to femmes or to both,”
“So I am a femme and you are a butch,”
“If you need labels, yes,”
“I don’t think I need labels,” Clia said in a small voice. Beth’s face turned serious and she lowered it until it was just inches from Clia’s.
“What do you need?”
The evening had been so nice and comfortable. Clia had enjoyed herself without having to think ahead, but now was the moment of truth. With the question of what she wanted staring her in the face Clia found herself utterly serene.
“I need you to fuck me,” she whispered.
Beth pushed herself up on her arms. She looked down on Clia with a strange expression.
“Cli, I… I have dreamed about hearing you say those words to me, but are you sure? You don’t have to do anything, I am content with just the evening and the kiss,” she said earnestly. Clia felt her resolve melting. She had not expected Beth to have reservations.
“If you don’t want to I understand,” Clia said.
“Don’t want to? Are you out of your mind? I have spent so many nights dreaming of taking you to bed it isn’t even funny. I’m so in love with you. Watching you fall for someone else was awful, but I at least consoled myself with thinking you were Het. When you told me it was a girl I wanted to crawl up in a hole and die. I spent hours kicking myself for never having had the courage to hit on you,” she said. The words coming hesitantly at first but then becoming a rushing torrent.
“Now you are lying here under me, like I have dreamed so often and saying the words I have longed to hear and instead of jumping at the chance I am acting like a fool. Worrying about how you will feel in the morning if we do. I must be loosing it!”
“No, you aren’t loosing it. Well no more than anyone else who falls in love. Beth, I should have seen it but I never did. Now I realize it and recognize it in myself. I love you too,” Clia said.
Beth seemed too stunned to move, she just held herself there staring. Clia laughed and pulled her back down, feeling the slight woman’s weight on her. She pressed her lips to Beth’s and after a moment felt Beth’s tongue slip back into her mouth. This kiss was long, sensuous and unhurried. Beth’s tongue explored every millimeter of Clia’s mouth and Clia’s did the same. Beth tasted sweet, like the wine but even sweeter and Clia found she couldn’t get enough of that taste. She stabbed her tongue into Beth’s mouth and searched out pockets of sweetness until there were none to be found.
When the kiss finally broke both Beth and Clia were flushed and breathing heavily. Beth stood up and caught Clia’s hand. She pulled her up and led her down the hallway to her bedroom. Clia had only been in here a few times but now she saw things that had never made an impression before. The lack of anything overtly feminine impressed itself upon her. The room was tidy and clean but almost Spartan. Beth didn’t give her a lot of time to look though; she led Clia to the bed and gently pushed her back onto it.
Beth caught the hem of Clia’s sweatshirt and pulled it over her head. Her eyes were glued to Clia’s ample breasts, but her hands fumbled with the buttons of Clia’s jeans. Once open Beth tugged them off and tossed them on the floor in a ball. Her hands were trembling as they undid the hooks of the bra. Beth made a sharp intake of breath as the bra came way in her hands and Clia’s tits were exposed to her view. She gently stroked them for a moment but restrained herself and stood up.
The small girl quickly shed her own shirt and the sports bra she wore. Her breasts were small but beautifully sculpted and capped with tiny pink aureole and hard little nipples. Clia barely had a chance to look at them before Beth shucked her jeans and stood before Clia clad only in her black silk boxers. She smiled and slipped the boxers off. Clia’s eyes were drawn to the juncture of Beth’s legs. She caught only a glimpse of her roommate’s pussy before Beth turned and opened the drawer to her nightstand. From it she took out a black harness with a sturdy black dildo attached to it. She expertly pulled it on and tightened the straps at her hips.
Clia stared in fascination; the sight was very strange but undeniably arousing. Beth stood before her with the dildo bobbing obscenely in front of her. She looked so feminine and lovely, save for that large black weapon jutting out from her slim hips.
Beth knelt between Clia’s legs and with one hand pulled her panties aside. The little butch wasted only a moment to drink in the sight before she attacked Clia’s pussy with her tongue. Clia had never felt anything like it. It was both soft and hard, gentle and demanding, smooth and rough. It was all of these things and more, but most of all it was always at exactly the right place to make her feel the most wonderful. Beth quickly brought Clia to the brink or orgasm, but always stopped just short of taking her over the edge. With each trip to the edge of bliss Clia was more and more aroused until finally she was crying and begging for Beth not to stop.
Beth stopped again leaving Clia pounding the bed with her fists in frustration, but the little butch gave Clia no chance to protest. She stood quickly and brought the head of the dildo to Clia’s slick lips. Stroking it up and down just inside her lips drove Clia wild with desire. She moaned loudly and her hips bucked.
“Ohh, looks like my baby is ready for some of this,” Beth said in a husky voice. Clia only groaned in response.
“Tell me what you want baby, I have wanted to hear it for so long, come on, tell daddy what you want,”
“I want you to fuck me!” Clia nearly screamed. Beth smiled like the Cheshire cat and drove her hips forward, the big dildo stretched Clia like she had never been stretched before and she gasped when it bumped against her hymen. Beth drove her hips forward again apparently not grasping the reason for her access being thwarted.
“What the fuck??!” she growled in frustration. She grabbed the dildo and held it tight and seemed about to ram it in when she stopped stock-still. Clia’s whimpers were the only sounds in the room.
“Cli? Are you still a virgin?” Beth asked in a small voice. Clia could only nod, the full feeling of the dildo and the peak of sexual excitement her dreams and now Beth’s tongue had taken her too were too intense for words.
“Cli are you sure about this?”
“Don’t start that again,” Clia said through clenched teeth.
“Cli, I can’t. It’s going to hurt you,”
“Please Beth, I want it to be you,” Clia said. Beth nodded but still seemed unsure. She braced her legs apart and held the middle of the shaft and then looked at Clia.
“I have never done this before, so bear with me,” she said quietly. Clia just nodded again. Her pussy was beginning to get used to the intruder, but it was still an uncomfortable feeling. Clia closed her eyes and held her breath. She felt a tiny bit of movement and then a ripping tearing pain that caused her breath to shoot out of her. The pain was accompanied by a feeling of being full that was totally alien to her.
Her breath had been knocked out of her and she struggled to breath, fight the rising panic, and adjust to having the big dong inside her. She was finally able to inhale and slowly got her breathing under control, the pain was still there but had faded into the background of her consciousness. The thing that was foremost in her mind was how the feeling of fullness had gone from uncomfortable to pleasurable.
“Are you all right?”
“Mmmm-Hmmmmmm,” Clia hummed as she wiggled around on the bed, delighting in the sensation caused by the dildo moving slightly within her.
Beth smiled and experimentally jogged her hips causing Clia to gasp. With that reassurance the little butch caught Clia’s hips and began a slow in and out motion of long strokes. To Clia it was heaven; she could feel every inch of the big dildo as it slid in and out of her. The sensation of being full, then empty, then full again was addictive and she was sure she would never want it to end.
Clia was rapidly approaching orgasm when Beth slipped her arms under Clia’s legs and lifted them onto her shoulders. The angle of entry changed and the amount of stimulation to her clit as well. It too only a few driving thrusts before Clia felt her inner muscles grip the plastic cock. Moments later an orgasm so powerful it blotted out all else washed over her. She had barely begun to regain her senses when she realized Beth was still plowing into her with reckless abandon. The little butches hands found Clia’s sensitive nipples and began to roll them between her fingers. The added stimulation sent a second orgasm crashing over her. This one was so intense she blacked out.
Clia’s fingers were cramped and her face hurt from wearing a smile for eight hours solid. She hated book signings, but it came with the territory when you made the NY Times best seller list for the third time in as many years. Her newest book Emma & Josephine was the new rage and had set of scholarly debates across Europe and the Americas too.
Clia glanced at the line, at least another hour she thought. Her eyes darted to the reading area where Beth sat quietly. Beth never missed a book signing or anything else. She was still beautiful to Clia after the years together. Beth caught her eye, glanced furtively left and right then spread her legs widely apart and stroked the outline of the strapon she wore under her leather pants. Clia was forced to smile, which in turn made Beth smile. It was just the inspiration she needed to get through the rest of the fans.
Clia Johansen, world-renowned author signed many more books that day, but her mind was on the little Brunette and the fucking she knew she was in for as soon as the door to the limo closed. There are many forms of inspiration and many muses, Clia thought. She glanced again at Beth, including small brunette ones who packed large strapons. Clia smiled a real smile and signed another book. I name you Beth muse of happiness she thought as the last hour ticked by.