{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in January 2008 }
Thomas was half in the bag, and barely made it into the room. “Fuck,” he said.
Jane had just unzipped her black dress, the one she saved for special occasions like tonight. Special occasions like her fifteenth anniversary of being married to Thomas Wallace. Occasions like this when Thomas would have one too many and get really amorous to the point when Jane herself started to anticipate what would happen between them when they got home. Of course, on occasions like this, Tom would have one too many, drive them home sloppy drunk and pass out on the bed, woefully limp, and Jane would have to take care of matters by herself. She didn’t know if Tom knew about her dildo, but she thought he probably wouldn’t like the idea of that too much.
“Fuck what?” Jane said, finishing unzipping her little black dress.
“The babysitter needs a ride home,” Tom slurred.
“But I’m getting ready for bed!” she argued.
“Yeah, and I’m too drunk to drive any more.”
Too drunk to drive a fourteen year old girl home, but not too drunk to drive your wife of fifteen years home.
Jane knew she was stuck. She zipped her dress back up and grabbed her purse. Tom had been playing with himself, lying there on the bed.
“We’ll get down to business when you get back,” he said.
Jane shot him a half-smile. By the time she got back home, he’d be passed out on the bed still in his suit with his dick in his hands, and she’d spend another evening squatting in the bathroom pumping her dildo into herself, thrill of thrills. “I’ll be back soon,” she said, hopefully.
The girl was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, biting her fingernail. Jane had known Nicole since the girl’s family had moved in up the street six months ago. Nicole had babysat for her and Tom several times, and it wasn’t like little Katrina was a handful. Usually asleep by nine, and totally zonked out until morning.
“Sorry,” Nicole said, “My friend Jenny was supposed to pick me up, but she got in trouble at home.”
“No problem,” Jane said, reaching in her purse for her keys. She put on the coat that she wore to dinner that night, still warm, still smelling like cigarette smoke and garlic and the whiskey Tom had accidentally spilled on it.
“You look nice tonight, Mrs. Wallace,” Nicole said.
Jane had to smile. “Thanks, hon,” she answered. She took a quick look at Nicole. The girl was short, five three maybe. Black leather shoes over black and white striped tights. Short skirt, black blouse, too much eye makeup, hair done up in pigtails on the sides of her head. All told, the girl looked pretty nice herself. Jane hadn’t noticed much when Nicole had arrived earlier that evening with rushing to meet their reservations. ”You look pretty nice yourself, Nic,” Jane said.
The girl smiled and cast her eyes on the floor. “That’s cool you called me Nic,” she said. “That’s what my friend Jenny calls me.”
Jane dangled the keys in the air. “Shall we?”
It wasn’t black and white tights the girl was wearing. Jane noticed the moment Nicole sat down in the SUV. They were thigh socks. The hem of the girl’s skirt had hiked up while she reached behind her to buckle her seatbelt. Any higher and Jane would have seen way too far north to be comfortable. Jane started the car and backed out of the driveway.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” Nicole asked, making no effort to adjust the hem of her skirt.
“Mm,” Jane said, shrugging. She’d imagined it going a lot differently, but really shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Katrina is a doll.”
“Thanks,” Jane said. “Yeah, she’s pretty sweet.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, listening to the smooth jazz station they’d been listening to on the ride home. Thomas kissing her hand and saying how much he wanted to stick it in her tonight. Thomas weaving and swerving all over the road. Kenny G on the radio.
They pulled up to Nicole’s house and Jane threw the car into park, but Nicole made no move to get out. There were no lights on in the house, but the car was in the driveway and the porch light was on.
Jane cleared her throat. “Everything okay?” She noticed for the first time that Nicole appeared uncomfortable.
“Everything’s fine,” the girl said.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you around then,” Jane prompted. She wondered if the girl was waiting for her to get out and open the door for her.
“Um,” Nicole started. “Do you want to come inside with me?”
Jane rolled her eyes. Scared teenager. “You want me to walk you to your door?”
“I’d rather you came inside the house with me,” came the answer.
“Why?” Jane asked.
Nicole gave an uncomfortable wince. “Because I’m wearing a pair of your panties.”
At first, Jane wasn’t sure she’d heard right, but then realized that she had. The girl was wearing one of her pairs of panties? As if Nicole could sense the question in the air, she reached down and pulled up the hem of her skirt. Sure enough, there was her pair of horizontally striped multicolored underwear that she’d bought last week at the Victoria’s Secret at the Valley Mall. Three pairs for ten bucks.
“Why are you wearing my panties?” Jane asked, terrified of the answer.
Nicole blushed and lowered her skirt. She picked at her fingernails while she answered. “Truth is,” she started, “I tried on a lot of your lingerie tonight.”
“You what?” Jane asked, now starting to get pissed. She just imagined this little twit going through her underwear drawer. Her bras, panties, the negligee Tom had bought her. Her slips, her hose. An inexcusable invasion of her privacy.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole said. “I just couldn’t stop myself.”
“I hope there was a good reason why you went through my stuff tonight.” Christ. Did the girl find the quarter bag that she and Tom had been slowly working through? The sheet of acid in her Junior year annual that Tom didn‘t even know about?
“Sort of,” Nicole answered. “I kind of have a crush on you.”
“You have a… crush on me.”
“Yeah,” she said, all the time picking at her fingernails.
“I’m married, you know,” Jane said, holding her left hand out, playing with the wedding band with her thumb.
“I know,” Nicole said. “I also know that you and Tom aren’t too close anymore.”
“And how do you know that?” Jane demanded.
“Because I found your dildo too.”
“Jesus!” Jane yelled. “Did you go through all my stuff?”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I just got curious. I wanted to know more about you. You’re so beautiful and stylish and… I don’t know.”
Jane sighed. She knew what the girl was going through. Lord knew she’d gone through her own amount of girlhood crushes. Never on any older women, though. Not that the idea was repugnant or disgusting to her, she’d just never thought about it. Actually, the more she thought about it, the idea was kind of flattering.
“Look,” Jane said. “You’re a cute kid. You’re sweet and pretty and I’m very flattered that you’re interested in me. But nothing can happen between us. I mean, I could go to jail, worst case scenario.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Nicole said. “I wouldn’t turn you in. Hell, I started all this.”
“Yeah, and this is as far as it’s going to go.”
“Okay,” Nicole said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Jane couldn’t wait to get home and pour herself a stiff drink, and then poke herself with her stiff dildo, and then pass out next to Tom.
“Would you at least walk me up to the door?” Nicole said.
“Sure,” Jane responded. As long it ends this night quicker, she thought.
They got out of the car, and shut the doors quietly. They strolled up to the house, Jane’s heels clicking a steady and purposeful counter-rhythm to Nicole’s thicker soles. They got to the door and Nicole put her key in the slot. She turned around. “Thanks for the ride,” she said.
“No problem,” Jane said, hand on her forehead, wishing above anything else to get back in the SUV and back home.
Nicole opened the door a crack. “Um,” she started, “do you want your panties back?
Jane weighed the pros and cons. She should just give the girl her panties, maybe give her something to remember her by. But damn it, she really liked them. She liked the way she looked in them. “Yes,” Jane said, quietly.
The girl reached up her skirt and began shimmying the panties off her hips.
“Not out here!” Jane hissed at her. “My god, I could be arrested right where we stand!”
“Sorry,” Nicole whispered. She opened the door and walked inside. Jane followed.
“Please tell me your parents aren’t home,” Jane whispered.
“Oh, they are. But they’re dead to the world about now. My dad could sleep through a tornado and my mom wears earplugs so she won’t have to listen to my dad snoring. Come on upstairs.”
“Look,” Jane said. “Just give me my panties and I’ll go home.”
“Upstairs,” Nicole demanded.
Jane followed the girl up the stairs imagining scenarios from the next ten to twenty years of her life. Arrest, trial, conviction. Maximum security prison, God knows what else. If she could just make this quick.
They reached the door to Nicole’s room and entered. The girl closed the door quietly behind them and turned on the light. Jane was relieved to find a normal teenage girl’s room. Justin Timberlake on the wall, small collection of CDs next to a boom-box. Daybed with flowered comforter, messy dresser with all kinds of makeup implements on top, jewelry box, papers, notes, normal girl stuff. Could have passed for Jane’s own room twenty years ago.
“I’ll be right back,” Nicole said.
“Where are you going?” Jane asked, alarmed.
“I’m going to take off your panties and go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay. Hurry,” Jane said.
Nicole left the room, and Jane was alone in the girl’s room. She wandered toward the dresser, checking out the various items atop it. At some point, the thought came to her that maybe she should go through Nicole’s drawers. One good turn deserved another, or so she was always taught.
She opened one quietly, and peeked inside. T-shirts mostly, names of bands that Jane had never heard of, and probably would be appalled if she heard them. She closed that drawer and opened another. Socks, tights, hose. Jane allowed herself a smile. Getting closer. She closed that drawer and opened the one to the left. Bingo.
Satiny bras, silky panties. Cotton and lycra. Elastic waistbands, adjustable straps. Thongs, briefs. Red, black, white, ecru, even some green and blue thrown in here and there. Jane dug her hand in the soft, slick pile of underclothes, sifting her fingers through them. She dug her hand in a few more times, feeling the wonderful sensations, the naughtiness of it.
Her fingers scraped across something at the bottom of the drawer. She pulled it out, and looked at it. It was a plain notebook, college ruled, purple cover on which her own name had been lovingly scripted.
Jane Wallace. She ran her fingers over the letters, transfixed by the care Nicole had taken with the lettering.
Jane flashed back suddenly to her own childhood. Her first sexual encounters, years before she met Thomas, back when she was Jane Biggs.
When the boys called her Jane Bigg Tits just because she’d been the first unlucky girl in her class to grow breasts. When the girls were jealous of her. That slumber party over at Denise Germain’s house when the other girls made her take her nightgown off so they could look at her. The way their fingers moved lightly over the just-growing mounds of flesh that had that dull ache about them. The way she went to sleep that night with her hand in her own panties, remembering the way the girls’ hands felt on her. Searing the memory into her brain so she’d never forget.
She remembered the way she’d felt toward Denise after that night. Was it something like a crush? Something like the one this Nicole had on her? Nicole, who wasn’t even a sperm when Jane had been at that slumber party.
Jane opened the notebook and looked inside. The first page was written on with a girl’s wildly looping hand. Jane skimmed down the page, and her eyes fell on random phrases. “I think I love Mrs. Wallace.” “bury my face between her legs.” “smell her hair.” “put my fingers in her mouth and make her taste herself.”
Jane flipped through the notebook, and found more of the writing.
“can’t stop thinking about her.”
“obsession.”
“Mom’s Polaroid camera to her house tonight.”
Jane kept flipping and finally came upon a page, upon which had been taped a series of Polaroid pictures. The pictures were of Nicole, Nicole in Jane’s own bedroom. Nicole wearing Jane’s own lingerie, taken by Nicole herself reflected in the mirror on Jane‘s dressing table. Jane’s bras didn’t fit the girl well, and her panties looked baggy on the girl’s hips. But the shot the girl had taken of herself in Jane’s blue satin nightie, the one Tom had bought her on their first anniversary, was extremely fetching. Something in the way the girl’s eyes were half closed.
Obsession?
Hadn’t Jane had the same thing with Denise so long ago? It had passed as naturally as a rainstorm, though.
There was a picture of Nicole kissing the tip of her dildo, and she understood that the girl had probably used it as well.
She was startled out of her thoughts by a clicking sound behind her.
She whirled around to find Nicole, naked as the day she was born, shutting the lid to the CD player on her nightstand. She touched the play button and turned around to face Jane. Dark, electronic music played as the girl padded her way across the blue carpet. Close, too close, to the older woman.
“Here,” Nicole whispered. She lifted a hand and hooked over her index finger were Jane’s panties. Jane reached out and grabbed them, wadding them up in her hand.
Nicole looked down at her notebook with her Polaroids. She pointed to the picture she’d taken of herself in Jane’s blue nightie. “That’s my favorite too,” she said. “Do you want to dance?”
Jane nodded, almost involuntarily. Nicole took the notebook out of her hands and set it on her dresser, then folded herself into Jane’s embrace. Jane put her hands on the girl’s back, felt her young muscles moving under her warm skin. She could smell the scent from the girl’s shampoo, she could feel the warmth coming from the top of her head.
“Your door’s open, Nicole,” Jane whispered delicately. Indeed, the door to the girl’s room was cracked, open about six inches. The darkness outside was intimidating, but exciting at the same time. Who knew if anyone was watching?
“I told you it’s okay,” she said. “They’ll never hear us, they won’t even wake up.”
Jane flashed quickly to ten to twenty years in jail, but the image faded quickly. Frankly, at this point, Jane didn’t much care. She caressed her hands up and down the girl’s back, stopping just south of the shoulder blades, just north of her butt.
They orbited each other as the music pulsed around them. Jane watched in the mirror over Nicole’s shoulder. Watched them moving together, watched the girl’s tiny little butt shifting back and forth.
She spared a glance into her own eyes, asked herself quickly if she realized exactly what she was doing, and then told herself it didn’t matter.
She pulled out of Nicole’s embrace and turned around, lifting her hair up and looking over her shoulder at the naked girl.
“Unzip me?” she asked.
Jane felt the girl’s hands moving over her back, up her shoulders, down to the zipper of her black dress, the one she saved for special occasions like tonight. Special occasions like her fifteenth anniversary of being married to Thomas Wallace. Drunk and passed out, he was relinquishing the opportunity to a fourteen year old girl who had a major crush on his wife.
Fuck him, she thought. He deserves this.
She heard the slow sound of the zipper opening. She felt a chill on her back. She shrugged out of the dress, let it fall to the ground.
She stood in front of Nicole, who looked like she was about to burst from excitement, dressed in her black bra, her black panties, and her black garter belt with black thigh stockings. All of which, this girl had probably tried on. This very ensemble, Jane thought, I’d probably find a picture of it if I looked through Nicole’s book.
“I love this garter belt,” Nicole said, hooking a finger in one of the straps, snapping it back playfully.
“Come to me,” Jane breathed. She walked over to Nicole’s bed and sat down, holding out her hands to the girl.
Nicole walked slowly over to her, Jane watched the girl’s hips move, her breasts pendulate, the skin over her soft stomach shift. She grabbed Jane’s hands and moved in close.
They kissed. Delicately at first, then more passionately. Jane’s hand moved over the girl’s bottom, the girl’s hand moved back to unclasp Jane’s bra.
Having freed Jane’s breasts, Nicole bent down to take one in her hand and the other in her mouth. She suckled and nipped at one nipple as she pinched the other. Jane reached down and took Nicole’s breasts into her hands. She kneaded and squeezed, heard the girl’s breathing quicken.
Nicole pushed forward, pushing Jane onto her back. She kissed her way down Jane’s stomach to the waistband of her panties. She licked once or twice at the fabric atop her pubic mound, and then slid the panties off her hips.
Jane reached behind her to unclasp her garter belt, but Nicole’s hand’s stopped her. “Leave it on,” she said. “It’s sexier with it on.”
Jane nodded and pulled the girl close to her. They kissed, and rolled around on the bed for a while. Eventually, Nicole’s hand made its way to the place where Jane’s legs met, explored the dark brown hair for a while, and eventually found its way to the slick valley down there.
Jane’s own hand explored Nicole’s nether region, but didn’t stop at the musky opening. She continued on to the pucker behind it, and lightly plucked at it with a fingernail.
The girl’s breathing paced up as Jane continued working, and Jane’s own breathing crescendoed as the girl worked first one, and then two fingers as deep inside her as they would go. Her thumb worked on the stiffness between her lips.
“I have wanted this for so long,” Nicole breathed.
Now Jane moved her fingers to the wet opening between the girl’s legs.
The two embraced as they worked their fingers in and out of each other. They breathed heavily, the blood rushed in their ears, their cheeks, their chests.
They worked for a while, and Jane was the first to succumb. Her body wracked with shudders, and when she collapsed, she was as fulfilled and satisfied as she’d been in a long time. Except for the fact that the girl hadn’t come.
“Come over here,” Jane said, grabbing Nicole’s waist and swiveling her around. She spread the girl’s legs and moved up between them. She kissed Nicole’s face, her neck, her breasts. “You’ve given me something I haven’t had in a long time,” Jane said. “I want to give you the same pleasure.”
She grabbed the girl’s hand, the one that had been inside her, the one that had brought her to completion, and made a big show of sucking on the small fingers.
“Do you taste yourself?” Nicole asked.
Jane nodded.
“How does it taste?”
Jane hummed low, rolling her eyes. She could see the pleasure on Nicole’s face, and reveled in it.
She moved down the girl’s abdomen, and nuzzled against the downy mound of dark hair at the bottom. Her lips found Nicole’s clit and she kissed it. Her mouth covered it, her teeth nipped at it. She worked a finger in Nicole’s opening, then two, then three.
Nicole’s hips bucked and rocked. She grabbed Jane’s hands and knitted their fingers together.
Jane felt the shudders quaking through Nicole’s body, and continued until they stopped. Squeaks of pleasure escaped Nicole’s mouth and Jane had to cover it with her own. They kissed deeply, luxuriantly. Eventually, Jane broke the kiss.
“Do you taste yourself?” she asked
Nicole nodded.
“How does it taste?”
“I’ve tasted it before,” she answered breathlessly. “On your dildo.”
They lay together for a while, their sweaty bodies sticking to each other. Eventually, Jane stood up and started putting her clothes on.
“Don’t go,” Nicole pleaded. Exhaustion was clear on her face, but her eyes were insistent. “I want more.”
Jane put her bra back on, and stepped into her panties. “Maybe next time,” she said.
“When will that be?”
Jane shrugged. “I don’t know. Soon.” She bent down and kissed Nicole’s forehead. She picked up her dress, climbed under it, and let it fall. She zipped up the back and picked up her handbag.
“I want more,” Nicole repeated. “I need you.”
Jane smiled. “You have me,” she said. “But I have to get home.”
Now Nicole smiled devilishly. “Don’t you want these?” She held her hand up, and hooked around one of her fingers were Jane’s panties, the Victoria’s Secret ones, the ones that had started this whole thing.
Jane plucked them out of the girl’s hand and fingered them for a while. Finally, she put her fingers behind the front of them and put her hand on the girl’s crotch. She masturbated the teenager with her panties for a few moments, loving how the girl looked at her as she did. Then she pulled her hand away and brought it to her nose. She breathed in the girl’s musk, and released the breath slowly.
“Keep them,” she said, and slinked out of the room.
THE END