In all her short span of years, she had never known such sweet luxury. Not in real life, her own real life. In movies, sure, but even that hadn't been so impressive. Judy wallowed in the huge sunken tub, soaking in the scented water. The obviously expensive bath-oil made her skin feel smooth all over, slippery to her fingers; even the atmosphere was thick with perfumed femininity, contributing to this sensation of sleek elegance. And she hadn't even run the bath herself a maid, imagine! just like in the movie shows. Hey, it's happening to me! Who would ever believe it?
Not that having a maid around was such a big help. Almost kind of embarrassing, in a way. But that seemed to be smoothing over, too, now that Judy had taken the ultimate step, getting into her prepared tub practically under the servant's eyes. All with a properly impersonal manner and a minimum of blushing, thank heaven! no simple feat, what with the forced intimacy of stripping naked in front of a grown-up female stranger. Oh shit, she was glad to be alone again, left here to soak to her heart's content.
It was all worth the effort, though. Or so it appeared thus far in her stay, even if she still didn't know much about the place, the setup in general. This big house with almost no household help, for instance, just a single maidservant; wasn't that a bit odd? Too bad she couldn't ask a few pertinent questions and ease her curious mind. But that had become impossible now and it was her own damn fault, of course, her own fault for being so smart. Last night. When it had seemed safer, and quite clever really, to cut off any further speculation about her phony relatives. Before the story got too involved. Let's keep the mystery, huh? Anyway, let's not swap personal histories, it's more fun to go on guessing. So don't tell me your secrets and I won't tell you mine. Okay? That did the trick, sure enough, but the cut had come from a two-edged sword, now preserving the mystery on both sides.
Still, she had seen sufficient to bolster her optimism along with her chances for continued success. Everything looked pretty rosy here. Even aside from the luxury and such, this was a perfect hideaway, a discreetly noble estate on an insignificant rural road, all but invisible to any pursuing bloodhounds. The house was set back deep in its acreage, surrounded and well-guarded by trees and shrubbery and tall hedges. Perfect. No reason at all why she shouldn't hole up here for a while. Especially since the woman both of them, mistress and maid seemed so happy to have her.
Uh-huh. Why even think of leaving? After the rigors of Wicklow, this place was a paradise. And her hostess an angel. Why not relax and maybe enjoy this run of luck?
Not that Vera's designs on her were angelic exactly. That was already evident. But it wasn't going to be hard to take, Judy figured, nothing to get jittery about. Except that she couldn't help wondering when and how the first real pass would come a quizzical note scarcely conducive to relaxation. Oh well, no hurry, better to cross that bridge when she came to it. Or jump off it, if necessary. And in the meantime, relax, relax, relax…
She stretched serenely, setting the tub aswirl. Here and there the heat licked anew at her body, always finding some secret spot grateful for another tingle. One rounded knee poked through above the water, soap-flecked and shiny. It straightened slowly as the entire length of leg floated to the surface, a vision that she awaited and then examined with a certain impatient pride. How nice to have such pretty legs! Beautiful, in fact. She was beautiful all the way up, for that matter just a shade slim where normal development was still in process. And that was filling in nicely. She even felt beautiful now, satisfied with her self-critical inventory, riding high on a flush of self-esteem.
To hell with relaxation; enjoy, enjoy wasn't that the true purpose of life? She caressed herself lazily, starting at that same shiny knee and stroking upward along the buoyant leg, her fingers spreading an oily sexual lubricity of their own inside the sensuously vulnerable thigh. So soft, so silky to the touch. Kind of silly doing it alone though, halfway between a juvenile jerk-off and an adult ego-trip. Inspired by circumstance, no doubt, the erotic overtones of luxuriating in this sunken tub, this uniquely intoxicating atmosphere of the bath. Time to call a halt, then. No more fooling around down there, no more childish games, childish admiration of her own body. And anyhow, just what did she have to be so conceited about? Despite its promise for the future, her figure still hadn't emerged from the dopey adolescent stage. Not quite. Especially around the bazoom. Oh shit, compared to that monumental body of Vera's…
But no, any such comparison was unfair. Vera Carlisle was built. Past her prime, perhaps, but still as appealing as a juicy-ripe peach in the warm sun. A peach ready for plucking always at its peak, somehow as often as it may have been plucked before. Hard to tell about that how often? it just didn't show. There was an air of dignified reserve about her, a postured understatement of temperament, like a low-key illusion to compensate for her flamboyant beauty. Because there sure wasn't anything reserved or understated in the purely physical contours and proportions of her body. That well-stacked flesh reeked of sensuality. It was voluptuous, deliciously opulent, the kind of flesh that begged for attention. It always looked so hot!
Hmm. This lesbian kick, how big could it get? Judy found herself in a sudden stew of puzzlement. With a pinch of spicy shock to add tang. Just thinking about that sexy creature had gotten her all aroused; wasn't it weird? It was almost like being with a close boy-friend. Or the suspense just before it, rather, the simmering anticipation of a fuck-date with a good safe stud. It used to get her tits quivery, the nipples sort of half stiff at least an hour ahead of time. Like now. Only she was thinking of a woman! And they didn't even have a date. So what does that make me, a sad gay girl?
Not a chance. Neither sad nor gay. She just happened to be the kind of girl who needed loving and lots of it. After all, the female machinery functioned better with frequent oiling. A man, a woman; who could afford to be choosy? Any attractive bed-partner would do. And in a drought, the partner didn't even have to be so attractive. Or even have a decent bed to share. Sometimes it was just a matter of matching impulse with opportunity. But those days the reformatory, ugh, the days of desperation were gone now, gone forever. She was sure of it, the way her luck was running. The perfect hideout. With a sophisticated and obviously sex-charged hostess for a bit of amorous diversion until she could safely seek out her old world of boy-friends and candy-daddies. But that didn't make her gay, of course. Not hardly. And if she wasn't gay, what was there to be sad about? Just so long as everything kept coming up roses…
Giggling blithely, Judy summoned up energy to surmount her bath-warmed lassitude, rising to climb out and reach for a towel. Something intervened in mid-movement a noise, a blur of motion, a sixth-sense recognition of another presence and with one foot planted on the furry bathmat and the other still dragging from the tub, she stopped and swung her gaze in search. There, standing in the half-open doorway! The maid again. Solange. The very solicitous maid, returning to take up her duties once more. Or had she been there watching all along?
Their eyes met in silence. A reprimand might have been in order, but the words stuck in Judy's throat. Irrationally, her mind refused to function beyond the level of trivia. The woman's name, for instance, its unfamiliar pronunciation. So-lansh. Accent on the second syllable. And the woman herself, the only other member of the household, so far a model of stolid efficiency. French, supposedly, although her slightly hooked nose and swarthy complexion hinted of even more exotic origin. An ageless brunette type. Devoted to her mistress, apparently.
"Missy? Oh, you're getting out now. Let me help." Solange entered, plucking a towel in transit. "That's what I'm here for you'll see. I'll take good care of you."
Again the silence pulsated as the towel was manipulated gently but firmly over Judy's dripping shoulders and arms. The scented atmosphere had become stifling all of a sudden. She wanted to utter some sound of rejection, to cry out against this unexpected invasion of her privacy. But the necessary organs still weren't functioning, and she finished pulling her legs together and stood motionless on the mat. Motionless but shaky inside. Silly. Wasn't it just a left-over feeling from back there in the tub? Caressing herself and mooning over her voluptuous lesbian hostess oh shit, what else could she expect? No wonder she felt sexy.
It struck her then, a new notion, almost sickening in its enormity. The maid was devoted to the mistress. And the mistress was a lesbian! Wasn't there a certain conclusion to be drawn from that pair of facts? All the more so now. The way the towel was moving slowly, lingeringly lovingly? over her moist flesh. She clenched her fists, struggling to stave off dizziness. Like some kind of hypnotic trance almost. Her whole being was ignited, her stomach churning and her thighs quivering convulsively. And when the towel slid across to smother her breasts, she bit her lips to keep from sobbing aloud…
"Missy? Are you nervous?"
"Well… uh… "
"It's all right. I understand."
Maybe the maid was merely trying to be helpful. Her voice sounded quite concerned. And there hadn't been any definite sign of a sexy pass, no indication that she desired more than to be of service. Was it all just imagination? Judy could only wait and wonder, momentarily soothed by the judgment that her own mind must have complicated this simple situation. Comparatively simple, anyway, although the novelty alone was enough to flutter her nerves. Oh shit, if only her tits would quit tingling! What now, was it starting all over again?
Uh-huh. Coming up from below, too. Tiny tremors climbing the calves of her legs. Sporadic flashes of sensation shimmering upward to tease and torment to the point of sheer persecution. Awful! As if there was some other ingredient to be reckoned with here, some unknown something that insisted on identifying itself. Judy wanted no part of it. Whatever it was. And abruptly she seized the towel from those busy hands and wrapped her naked body in its fluffy concealment, avoiding the dark woman's startled glance. She stalked out then, pausing only to pick up her borrowed robe, still clutching the towel around her like a skimpy but blessedly serviceable sheath.