Part 1: The Afternoon of the Nymphs
From the doorway he could see them: two slightly-built girls, young and lightly clad in tee shirts and jeans, huddled together on the crushed velvet sofa that dominated the sunken living room. The blonde, Pickering judged to be in her early twenties; her companion even younger, maybe eighteen or nineteen. They had that freshly-scrubbed look of youthful innocence. Youthful they might have been, although certainly not innocent, thought Pickering, although, he had to admit, they didn't look at all like call girls. Not at all his image of painted whores strutting about in wickedly high heels while wiggling their asses in tight black dresses.
But Higgins had assured him that Claire would provide whatever sort of girls they were looking for, so he was delighted, if not entirely surprised, when the two pretty college girls had been shown up at Higgins' fashionable apartment for the afternoon.
Higgins followed Pickering's eyes when the quick glance as took in the girls. He smiled knowingly. He knew what thoughts were going through his friend's head. The two men shared a passion: an amusing hobby, or a deranged obsession -- depending on your point of view. They were connoisseurs, dedicated enthusiasts of their peculiar pursuit -- the art of spanking women. All sorts of women, girls and ladies, housewives and whores had come under their hands. They ranged from mature women with generous asses that shook and wobbled like jelly when spanked, to young women with hard bodies and tight-cheeked bottoms: small buttocks which, when upended, drew the skin taut as a drum so that the spanking hand bounced off the hard, jutting curves imparting just the slightest shimmy. The kind of bottoms the college two girls had plunked down on Higgin's crushed velvet couch, while awaiting their turn.
On the day they first planned this special afternoon, the two friends were strolling back from lunch through the city park that ran adjacent to Worthington's campus. They were enjoying the warm spring day, neither one in any particular hurry to get back to the office. The gravel path took them along a wrought iron fence that wrapped around a grassy knoll strewn with college students taking advantage of a just-about-perfect spring day, their firm young bodies sprawled about on the grass in various states of undress.
That part of town was alive with college kids who could be found working in shops, waiting on tables and tending bar. There were girls who made good money as dancers in the topless clubs that lined the alleyways of the Brooktown section. That others had found a way to put in much less hours, and earn even more money by turning tricks was hardly surprising. Some of the prettiest girls, looking for tuition money, ended up working for Claire.
Higgins took him to where their guests sat, smiling up at the two men.
"Girls, this is Mr. Pickering; Pickering, this is Jenn," he said nodding towards the blonde, "and her friend, Courtney."
Pickering took each proffered hand in his, unexpectedly thrilled by the touch of those small, delicate hands. It was all so absurdly formal.
Pickering took a chair directly across from the sofa, while Higgins went off to get a bottle of sherry and four glasses.
They spent a few awkward moments sipping wine, then Higgins, who enjoyed playing host, decisively set down his half filled glass, and rose to his feet.
"Stand up girls, let's have a good look at you."
They rose to their feet. Jenn, the taller of the two, was a flat-chested blonde. Smooth ashen hair hung in lank folds to her collar, and crossed her brow in a row of even bangs. A dark maroon tank top hung loosely from narrow, fragile shoulders layering her shallow, practically tit-less chest. Her jeans were faded, but clean and well fitted, tapering down her lean hips and legs. She looked up at Higgins with a sparkling blue eyes and a small questioning smile.
Courtney was smaller and even more slightly built: a skinny girl with delicately rounded shoulders, straight arms and legs, and straight boyish hips wrapped in trim bluejeans. Pickering deuced her youthful breasts would constitute two neat handfuls from the small rounded knobs that tented the front of the apple green tee shirt she wore. Courtney's mop of dusky hair was short and loose. Under a swath of hair that angled down across the forehead of her small face, her eyes were bright and eager.
Pickering set aside his glass of sherry, eased back into the low rounded-backed chair, extending his long legs forward, crossing them at the ankles. He seemed prepared to let things unfold.
Higgins took charge, abruptly getting to his feet. "Shall we get started? Girls, I think it's time you got your clothes off."
The two exchanged glances and then casually reached down to undo their sneakers; shoes were unlaced and removed; white cotton socks pulled off. Once shoes and socks had been removed, they got up to stand bare-foot on the thick carpet just in front of the couch. Pickering stopped them just as they were beginning to strip off their tops.
"No, wait." He turned to Higgins.
"Why not have them undress each other?"
"A capital idea."
