Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

Two Conversations

By Cheryl Taggert 

If you need help keeping up with the characters, you may go here.

When Mom took Erin home late the next afternoon, we were all still a little tired from the previous night’s fun and games. Everyone in the house had either stayed up late having sex or had awakened at some point in the night to engage in more lesbian sex. In fact, we had enjoyed ourselves so much that nobody did anything with anyone, except that Randi had masturbated while looking at all the naked girls in the den watching TV. She had tried to engage Erin in some sex play, but the young girl was too worn out from the middle-of-the-night fun. Randi hadn’t arrived until last night, so she’d missed out on the orgy the rest of us had enjoyed, so she wasn’t as worn out and sore as the rest of us.

We accompanied Erin into her house, and Ms. Hartley greeted us as if she and Mom were old friends. Mom returned the chaste hug.

“Won’t you stay for a quick drink before heading out again?” Ms. Hartley asked Mom.

“No, thank you,” Mom said. “We’re on our way to the grocery store, and I have to fix dinner when we get home.”

“Well, please at least take a rain check. I’d love to have you over for dinner or something soon,” Ms. Hartley said. “Or maybe if you’re downtown sometime we could meet for lunch.”

“That would be nice,” Mom said.

We turned to leave and Ms. Hartley asked, “By the way, Kayleigh, where exactly do you work?”

I sort of froze when she asked that and tried my best not to look nervous, but Mom handled it well.

“I work for a privately owned production company.”

“Oh, which one?”

“Well, Peyton, I feel a long conversation coming on. Maybe we could talk about it at that lunch date you mentioned. Is tomorrow good for you?”

“Sure,” Ms. Hartley said.

 “How about Soup-R Salad on Vine at, say, 12:30?”

“Sure. I’m sorry to be so nosy. I was just curious. Your home is fabulous, and I just wondered what you did for a living, that’s all. You’re pretty enough to model, or I also wondered if you were in real estate.”

Mom laughed. “No, not in real estate, though I have done some modeling in my time.”

“That must be it,” Ms. Hartley said.

Mom looked at her, furrowing her brow, and asked, “What must be it?”

“I just knew I’d seen you somewhere before. I must have seen some picture of you in a magazine or something.”

Uh-oh. This could lead down a path I didn’t want it to go. To stop Ms. Hartley from thinking about it, I said, “Mom, we really need to go get something to fix for dinner. I’m starved.”

She smiled at me and said, “Okay, honey. We’re going now.” Then turning to Ms. Hartley she said, “Teenagers,” and rolled her eyes. “Their stomachs are never truly full.”

They both had a laugh at that, and we left the house after saying good-bye to Erin and her mom.

“That was close,” I said as we got into the car.

“Nonsense. I was hoping she wouldn’t ask about my work, but she did and I’ll be honest with her about it. She’s already told me she has seen me somewhere before, so when I tell her my job, she’ll probably be a little embarrassed since she would have to have seen me in a porn movie, and the magazines I’ve modeled for would have the same result on her. She’s what I call a closet masturbator. She does it, and probably often. I figured this because she isn’t dating anyone and seems to be fairly open-minded about sex, judging from her reaction to seeing Emmy and Danni together yesterday, but she doesn’t want the world to know she masturbates. Many people view it as a bad thing to do, or at least very private, despite the fact the vast majority of people masturbate regularly.”

I was puzzled by this, as I always was, but I’d never really talked to Mom about it, so I decided to do that now.

“Why are people like that? I mean, if everyone who is at least fairly normal masturbates, then why do people try to hide it from each other? I think the entire world would be healthier if we all just admitted it, like going to the bathroom. We all poop, and we don’t try to pretend we don’t.”

“Hey, sweetie, you’re preaching to the choir here. Still, when it comes to sex, a lot of people don’t want everyone else to know their habits. We should accept all sexual habits as long as they don’t hurt someone else. Rape, for example, is wrong and should stay wrong. But something like being into S&M, or having a foot fetish should be as accepted as liking to play golf.”

“But why isn’t it like that?”

“Because, honey, when it comes to sex, people get all weird. Women with four children and a very active sex life pretend they’ve never had an orgasm or even act as if they’re virgins. If I were able to change one thing in the world, I think it would be the attitudes people have about sex. I mean, dogs fuck out in the open. Why not people?”

“Don’t ask me,” I said. “I agree with you.”

Mom laughed. “That was a rhetorical question, honey. I didn’t expect you to have an answer. But I do feel if we were more open about sex and sexuality, everyone would be a helluva lot happier.”

We had arrived at the store and went in. After we finished shopping, Mom and I headed home, where she fixed homemade tacos, a quick and easy meal, and one of our favorites.

I talked with Jenna that night about what Mom and I talked about. I was nervous about Mom’s lunch with my employer tomorrow. I hoped I still had a job when Ms. Hartley got home that afternoon.

********

I arrived five minutes early to work the next day. I didn’t want another tardiness to add fuel to the fire if she was unhappy with my mom’s news about her work.

After she left for work, Erin and I waited the required thirty minutes before getting naked. She said she was still a little sore from the weekend and the night before, when she’d masturbated herself to two more orgasms remembering all the fun she’d had at our house. So for the first time since I’d begun working there, we did nothing sexual that day, just lounged around the house in the nude.

I did get a little turned on seeing her naked body all day — her blossoming figure being so cute and adorable — but I didn’t masturbate or anything because I didn’t want to get her started if she were sore. I’ve been so sore before it made me walk funny, and I certainly didn’t want that to happen, especially today.

I told Erin about what my mom and her mom were going to talk about during lunch. She was nervous, too, then. I wondered if I should have even told her, but what was done was done. She worried all afternoon about it.

When Ms. Hartley called that afternoon to ask if she needed to stop by the store or anything on the way home, she sounded fine, which I guess was a good sign.

I asked her before hanging up, “Did you and my mom have lunch together?”

She said they had and she wanted to talk to me privately about that when she got home. She didn’t sound angry or anything, but it was rather ominous that she felt we needed to talk about their visit in private. I mean, what else could the topic of our conversation be if not what my mom did for a living?

After hanging up, I teared up and Erin wanted to know what was wrong. I told her what her mom had said.

“Do you think she’s going to fire you?” Erin asked, panic edging her voice.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I love this job and would hate to lose it.”

Erin began to cry now. “I love you!” she said. “I don’t want you to be fired!”

“I’ll do what I can to keep that from happening,” I said, doing my best to maintain my composure. I knew if I started crying, it would only make things worse for Erin.

I managed to get her to calm down some before her mom got home. It wouldn’t do for her to be crying about the possibility of losing me as a companion when Ms. Hartley walked in. I told her she should probably go to her room and listen to some music so her mom could talk to me without her in the room, and that I’d be sure to stop by her room before I left to tell her whether or not I was fired.

When Ms. Hartley walked in, she didn’t look upset, which I took as a good sign. She asked me to sit at the dining table, and she took the seat across from me.

“Where’s Erin?” she asked, and I told her I had suggested she listen to music in her room while we talked and that I’d be in there to say good-bye when I was leaving.

“That’s excellent,” Ms. Hartley said. Then she took a deep breath. “Your mom tells me you know what she does for a living,” she began.

“Yeah,” I said, then changed it to the more respectful, “Yes, ma’am.” For the first time in my life it crossed my mind that some people might think my mother would hide her occupation from me.

Ms. Hartley smiled at my manners. I could tell she was as uncomfortable as I was and wondered why. She was the employer, after all. I was the one possibly getting fired.

“Then I suppose you figured out where it was I’d seen your mom before.” I was reminded then of why she would be uncomfortable.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ms. Hartley blushed a deep crimson. She was embarrassed, and again I thought about my feelings on the subject of masturbation and how people hid it.

“Sorry, but I’m so embarrassed. I basically admitted I’d seen movies like that in front of a fifteen-year-old girl who works for me.”

“Can I ask you something?”

She looked at me then looked down, as if still ashamed. “Okay.”

“Why would you think it would bother me if you’d seen a porn movie? I mean, it’s people like you that keep my mom working.”

She gave a nervous giggle and said, “I hadn’t considered it like that before, but I guess you’re right. I just don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of perv or anything. I’m really fairly conservative.”

“I figured that.” I paused before continuing our reluctant conversation. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Okay.”

Here it was. The moment of truth. “Are you going to fire me?”

Her chuckle this time was incredulous. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“I don’t know. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want the daughter of a porn actress to be your daughter’s companion.”

“Oh, no, honey! You’ve been doing such a great job, there’s no way I’d fire you just because of how your mother makes her living. She’s lucky to look good enough to be able to do that for a living.”

I let out a huge sigh. “Thank goodness!” I said.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I had no idea you thought I might fire you over that.”

“Well, I did. There are a lot of people who wouldn’t want me doing this for them.”

“Well, I’m not one of them,” she said.

At that point I couldn’t help it. Tears of relief began to cascade down my cheeks and I started crying. Ms. Hartley reached out to me and we hugged while I whispered my thanks. She held me for a while before I calmed down.

I apologized for being so dramatic, but she was fine with that.

After I had stopped crying entirely, she said, “Can I ask you a few questions, though? Just some things I’m a bit curious about.”

“Sure,” I said.

“I suppose you know what people who watch those movies… well… do, don’t you?”

“You mean when they’re alone or with someone else?” I had to be clear on what exactly she meant.

“Well, in this case… alone.” She couldn’t meet my eyes.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Ms. Hartley. Everyone does it, you know. In fact my mom and I were talking about that just yesterday when we left here.” Oops. I realized maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late now.

“Oh? What did you say about it?”

“Well,” I began, uncertain what to tell her. “I was saying that people shouldn’t be embarrassed to do that because… I mean… everyone does it, including me. It’s like pooping. We don’t deny we poop, and it’s not exactly a polite conversation topic, so why do people act like they don’t… well… masturbate?”

“I take it your mom knows that you…” she left the sentence unfinished, as if afraid to say masturbate.

I decided to move this conversation up a notch by confronting an attitude that suggested the word was dirty or something.

“You can say masturbate, Ms. Hartley. It’s not a cuss word.”

She blushed again. “Yes, I know it isn’t. I apologize. I suppose words like that are not considered… well… taboo around your house, but they were around my house when I was growing up.”

“I understand. But you can certainly say it around me. After all, I do it a lot.” I giggled at my own admission.

She looked at me, blushed, and burst into nervous giggles herself that made her seem my age instead of an adult with an eleven-year-old daughter. Then she shrugged. “Okay… so do I.” Her nervous laughter did its best to ease her embarrassment.

“Yeah, Mom said you’re what she calls a ‘closet masturbator,’ someone who masturbates frequently but doesn’t ever want to admit it.”

She laughed at my comment. “She’s so right on that one!” she said.

“Anyway, to answer your question from before, yes, she knows I masturbate. We’re fairly open about those things in my house, as you might guess.”

“Do you think… masturbation… is healthy?” she asked. I was wondering where this conversation was going. I certainly wasn’t getting any vibes she was interested in me as a sex partner of any kind, but she seemed dying to talk to me about sex, particularly my own sex life.

“Yes, and I think it would be a lot healthier if people weren’t so uptight about it.”

“Then it doesn’t bother you that I masturbate?”

“Why should it?”

“No reason I guess. I just know it’s odd to work for someone who admits to doing… I mean masturbating. As you said, it’s not considered polite conversation.”

“But it should be, at least for those people who aren’t embarrassed by it.”

“But I am,” she protested.

“Well, you shouldn’t be.” I thought about it and decided to make a pact with her. “Let’s make a pact, okay? We won’t be embarrassed talking about this. I know you masturbate often, and you know the same about me. That’s all. It’s like I know you poop and you know I poop.”

She smiled. “Okay, then. A pact it is.”

I reached out with my right hand and she shook it with hers and the thought crossed my mind that she masturbated with that same hand.

“So why are you so worried that I might think bad about you for masturbating. Do you think bad about me because I do?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, there you go. It’s natural.”

“Sorry. I guess it was my upbringing. Sex was never discussed in my house. My mother gave me a medical book about female sexuality and the vaginal area and that was that. She said for me to read it if I had any questions. I was fourteen by then, and all my questions had pretty well been answered, but I recall she had found a book that had no mention of masturbation at all. It was only about how a woman gets pregnant and the dangers of teen pregnancy. In other words, it was the mechanics of sex between a man and woman, and a warning about having sex too early in life. I was actually a little disappointed there weren’t some pointers on having better orgasms or something.”

I shook my head at her story, feeling bad for her while also being amused at the same time at her search for ways to improve her orgasms. I could definitely relate. “My mom has raised me to know that sex is a wonderful thing and that the feelings I can have from it are some of life’s greatest pleasures. I’ve been masturbating since I was little. I enjoy it. A lot. Yet, I’ve never had a guy’s penis inside me. The religious nuts would say I should already be pregnant, but because I’m free to enjoy the feelings I can give myself, I don’t feel the need to go find some guy to have sex with in order to enjoy those feelings. Masturbation doesn’t lead to having sex with guys. It prevents it if you ask me.” Of course, I didn’t mention lesbian sex. I certainly did not want to go there at all, even though it did enter the conversation at a point later.

“You really think that?” she asked. “I’m not skeptical or anything. I just… well… I was just thinking. Do you really feel masturbation prevents girls from having sex too early?”

“Yes.”

“But what about all those girls who get pregnant in their early to mid teens? They probably masturbate, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but they’re not allowed to masturbate. It’s not something they can do and have their parents say, ‘that’s good’ or ‘you go right ahead and enjoy it’ or something like that. They’re made to feel guilty about it instead. I think girls have sex with guys when they’re young because they see it as just as bad in their parents’ eyes as masturbation, if not less bad because sex with someone of the opposite gender is something more widely accepted.”

I was starting to feel really proud of myself. I was having an adult conversation with an adult and felt free to express myself on my own terms. It was a wonderful feeling.

“Okay,” Ms. Hartley began, “now I have another question, and I don’t want you to feel weird about it.” She paused, making sure I understood before continuing. “Has Erin ever said anything to you about sex or masturbation?”

My look must have set off some alarm in Ms. Hartley. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “but I know she has come to trust you, and I remember how much easier it was for me to talk to a girlfriend about sex than it was to talk to my parents. Of course, that was out of the question, anyway. I just know if Erin were to tell anyone about it or ask about it, she would tell or ask you.”

I decided to answer this question honestly, while answering only the question without all the details. “You wouldn’t think it’s weird or anything that she and I talked about things like that?” I had to make sure she wouldn’t start considering we were doing, well, what we were doing.

“No. You’re a mentor to her, and I know at eleven she probably has some questions.”

“If I tell you something, you won’t tell her I told you anything?”

“I promise,” she said.

“Well, yes, she has talked to me about it. I can tell you she does masturbate and she has orgasms.” I told her this much because I wanted to see what her reaction would be. I wanted to see if she really meant it when she said she wouldn’t be upset.

“She told you this?” Ms. Hartley asked, her face registering surprise at this news, but I could see she wasn’t upset.

“Yes.” I blushed for a moment. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her I had watched her doing it.

Ms. Hartley sat back in her seat, staring off into the distance, which meant she probably didn’t see me blushing. I didn’t know what she was thinking about, but whatever it was, it took her attention away for a minute or two.

“Okay. How do I start a conversation with my daughter about this subject so she will know it’s okay for her to do that so she won’t feel the guilt I’ve always felt?”

“Well, I’ve told her what my mom does for a living, so she knows about that, and she knows I was worried you might fire me because of it. I’d just talk to her about your lunch with my mom and tell her that if she is masturbating already, it’s okay. Don’t tell her it’s okay that she’s doing it, because then she’ll know I told you.” I didn’t want Erin to know her mom and I had talked about masturbation, especially that she did it, because she might think I told more and let a really bad cat out of the bag.

Ms. Hartley looked at me and nodded agreement. “Yes, that should be fine. If I tell her it’s okay, would you support her being able to masturbate during the day if she wants to? I mean, make sure she goes to her room to do it alone, but would you be okay with her doing that if she wants to?”

I pretended to think about it, then said, “Sure. As long as you don’t mind, why should I?”

She looked a bit uncomfortable again and said, “Now, I have another question.”

“What?”

“Does Erin know about your aunt and her lover?”

Okay, there it was. Lesbianism. I somehow knew it wouldn’t escape this discussion.

“Yes. I mean, she’s not blind.”

“Did she ask you about it?”

“Yes. I told her they were in love like a man and woman are in love.”

“What did she think of it?”

“She seemed fine with it. I mean lesbianism is all over the media now, so I’m sure she’s noticed it before.”

“I guess so. What do you think of your aunt having sex with another woman?”

If she only knew. “I’m fine with it. As long as she’s happy, I am too. I mean, what business is it of mine, anyway?”

“That’s a healthy attitude,” she said. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

Was she going to admit something to me? That maybe she had desires toward women? My heart was pounding. Would this lead to something more between us? If she did have these feelings, she had certainly hidden them well before.

But it wasn’t to be. I guess Mom and I both were correct with our original take on Ms. Hartley.

“I wish I could meet a man who makes me feel the way your aunt and her lover make each other feel,” she said and paused a second. “In the meantime…” she said and flashed a conspiratorial smile as she wiggled the fingers of her right hand at me.

I laughed, which dispelled the remaining tension. “You’re a beautiful woman,” I said, and I meant it. “You just need to make yourself available to someone you like.”

“That’s one of the problems, though. The only guys I seem attracted to are already married, and I don’t do that. My ex and his girlfriend messed up our lives, and I refuse to be ‘the other woman.'”

“Well, there’s someone out there for you,” I said. Then my daring went full speed ahead and I said, without thinking about it, “Maybe you should try women?”

She laughed at that and said, “No, honey. I’m totally straight. I recognize the beauty of a woman, but that doesn’t make me lesbian in any way.”

“But you’ve watched porn, with all those naked women. And it turned you on, right?”

“Yes, but there was always a man involved. I would zap the lesbian scenes.”

I looked at her, wishing she was at least bi. My mind imagined her leaning over and kissing me, the image causing my clit to stir from her cave.

“Look at it this way,” she said. “I recognized I had seen your mother somewhere, and it turned out it was in a porn movie. She must have had sex with some guy in a scene I watched. I would likely recognize the man if I saw him walking down the street. I didn’t recognize your mom, despite how beautiful and — yes — sexy she is. It’s the man that sticks in my mind.”

I realized she was totally correct. She wasn’t into women at all, though she seemed perfectly fine if others were. I was disappointed, but I reminded myself to tell Erin tomorrow. That way I could make sure she stopped trying to get her mom to have sex with her. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Continue on to Chapter 50