Young Winston Ch 02

Chapter Two: The Bitch

Christina:

Even before the taxi was out of the driveway, Winston was next to me, bending down to gather up my matched set of Louis Vuitton luggage. As he picked up the plastic duty free bag, the bottles inside clinked together giving me a chance to swat him with my white gloves; I'd wanted to hit somebody,

anybody

, for hours.

"Be careful damn it," I snarled, and then shouldering my big black purse, walked up the familiar steps taking as long of strides as my tight uniform skirt and four inch heels would allow.

It had been a ghastly flight from Paris; there had been interminable delays on the ground at Orlando International, and after fourteen hours in crew busses, planes and taxis, I was long past the limit of my temper. The sight of Gloria holding open the door with her tightly sheathed hip did a lot to calm me down; seeing my lush, plump-lipped roomie always gave me a boost.

It was early October and still stifling in Cocoa Beach, but it was nice and cool inside, and smelled wonderfully of booze, leather, perfume, and pussy. I could tell just by sniffing the air that Gloria had been having a go at Winston.

"Good," I thought, "he's been getting off to easily lately," and right now I felt like knocking him around a bit myself.

"Rough flight darling?" Gloria asked sympathetically, pressing her full breasts against my stiff tunic and her red lips against my weary cheek.

"The worst," I replied tossing my gloves and little cap in the general direction of the hallway. "I'll tell you all about it, but first I have to get out of this damn uniform."

"Of course, you poor thing, your drink will be waiting for you," she said.

"Lovely," I replied.

Gloria had a husky accent that just dripped with classy sexuality, a product of years of private schooling in England where she'd been born. I tried to imitate it all the time now, it made me feel so much more sophisticated and intelligent than when I used my native, small town Indiana slang.

I wanted to grab Gloria by the back of the head and crush her with a rough kiss, but she wasn't ready for that yet, and now wasn't the time to do it, not with hours of stale 707 air clinging to me. I. I felt gritty and loathsome. Still, I made a point of unbuttoning my tunic, tossing it to the floor and pulling my stiff blouse out of my skirt before turning to walk towards my bedroom. Winston, who had already hustled past me with my bags would come back and pick up my clothes later.

I had shimmied out of my skirt and kicked off my heels by the time I entered my room where Winston was unpacking my bags and sorting the dirty clothes into piles.

I gave him a swat on the back of the head, "Come on," I complained, "I'm fucking exhausted," and stood impatiently with my arms up.

Out of my heels, Winston was tall enough to lift my shift up over my head. I was not as buxom as Gloria was, but curvy enough that I had to wiggle as he worked the tight garment over my hips. I stood there topless, my tits still firm and perky enough not to need a bra, in French cut, lacy panties while he unfastened my stockings and slid them off of my legs.

He was disciplined enough not to stare, and turned his attention back to the laundry while I pulled off my panties and tossed them towards the pile.

"Those are very expensive, so take extra care rinsing them out," I said and then turned and strode across the hall to the bathroom.

By the time I had showered and brushed my teeth, all of the clothes I had strewn down the hallway were gone along with the piles of laundry in my room. I wrapped my squeaky-clean body in a crisp, med-thigh length red kimono, touched up my make-up, put on a pair of fuzzy high-heeled slippers, and returned to the living room where Gloria lolled on the couch half pissed. Winston sat off to the side brushing my blue suede boots.

"Let me see," I said towering over him. He started to get up, but I gave him a kick on the shoulder; "I didn't tell you to get up," I snarled.

The little bugger had really sprouted in the last few months, he was now a good six inches taller than me, so I didn't like him standing next to me. He handed me a boot and I inspected it carefully. It was properly brushed and treated.

"Hunh," I said and dropped it in his lap, the chunky heel aimed at his bulging crotch.

The shower had revived me and sloughed off some of the miserable day, but I still felt mean.

"You look darling in that Christina," Gloria cooed.

She was sitting back in the wide couch, tight up against the armrest so she could keep her drink on the end table beside her. With her shapely legs stretched out on an ottoman, her tight ivory shift riding up to mid-thigh, her big breasts flowing out of the top and sides of its long, spaghetti strap top, she looked very seductive.

"Come and sit," she said in a slow, slurry, sexy voice.

I felt a jolt of lust spurt up from my pussy through my belly and into my chest; "she is soooo fuckable," I thought, "so pliable and crushable, so soft and curvy."

I smiled and slid myself up against her, touching from knee to breast, my kimono sliding open to reveal the junction between my legs. Putting my arm around her almost bare shoulders, I gave her a squeeze.

"You are so nice to come home to," I said and held out my other hand to receive the tall, frosted gin and tonic that Winston presented me.

I ignored the boy as I concentrated on Gloria's entrancing, champagne-green eyes and her full pouting lips. The woman was a wonder; she hated men, delighting in telling me stories of how she led them around by their dicks and took them for everything she could. She badmouthed her ex-husband that she'd divorced after only three years of marriage, getting this house and a good financial settlement.

She dripped with Sapphic honey, but wouldn't admit she was gay. I figured something bad must have happened to her in one of those private English boarding schools. You hear stories about them all the time, lezzie paradise if you asked me, but also pretty rough too. She didn't talk much about it, and I didn't push her. She was skittish and I didn't want to lose her by moving too fast.

Me, I've done it all, men and women. Mostly I got pushed into it by one abusive, heavy-fisted son-of-a-bitch after another. It took me a long time to stop falling for guys like that, but by the time I did, I'd fucked enough people to know what I liked. I liked women, mostly older women, and I liked it a bit rough.

I'd had it with men except as patsies, and that was where Gloria and I came together. We liked to go out, drain their wallets and leave with groaning blue balls. I can still give a mean blowjob, or do anything else you can imagine, if I have to, but you can bet your ass I'm not taking one more inch of dick these days than is absolutely necessary.

Sure, I've got a chip on my shoulder; I've always had a hard time taking shit, which means I've always been in trouble with authority. I'm bitchy and quick tempered. Booze, and sometimes a little weed help take the edge off, but what

really

does the trick for me is a soft female body and the aroma of expensive perfume and pussy.

I drained the first glass right away and felt it sooth my throat and loosen up my whole body. Winston handed me a new one without missing a beat. Cuddled together, I started telling Gloria about my latest trip to France - telling it the way she liked it, full of catty bitching, jokes, and detailed sex.

She always laughed, sometimes she even whooped and slapped her leg, or mine. It was nice to have someone who liked to listen. We stews get pretty tired of each other, and really start to get on each others nerves after a few days. Gloria wasn't interested in travelling; she liked Cocoa Beach and saw no reason to leave it, but she enjoyed my stories of the world outside.

She was looser than usual for a Thursday, and more pissed, I didn't know why. She laughed and complimented me and made a lot of contact, practically falling out of her shift. Hoping that she was sending me signals, I let my kimono fall completely open, she didn't compliment me, but didn't tell me to cover up either. I was about to take a big chance and go in for a full kiss on the mouth when she suddenly broke the mood.

"Get over here you lazy lout," she commanded turning suddenly to Winston. "You know Miss Kelly's feet are always aching after a long flight."

"Yes ma'am," he said and scuttled over towards me without getting up.

I was aching to get my lips on hers and my claws into her lush bush. My pussy was almost dripping with anticipation. I'd thought she was going to finally give in to my not too subtle advances, and then this.

"Sorry Miss Kelly," he added and took the foot-massaging tray from under the coffee table and slid up in front of my knees.

I wondered, not for the first time, if Gloria was just fucking with me, cruelly teasing me for her own amusement. She seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on me, but I couldn't tell for sure.

Of course, my feet

were

tired and battered, and a post-flight foot massage

was

part of our usual routine, so I just smiled and stuck out one of my dainty feet and let him go to work. The night was still young and I still had an ace up my sleeve.

I sat far enough back in the couch that only my lower calf and food stuck out, and he immediately began expertly massaging and kneading away the knots. If he made the slightest mistake, a bit too much or too little pressure, I would lean forward and pull his hair. Gloria liked to do that, so I did it a few times even though the little bastard was doing such a great job that I could barely keep myself from mewling with pleasure.

When I told him to switch to my other foot Gloria exclaimed, "Wait, wait Christina, you

have

to see this," she said tumbling onto the floor.

Laughing, she hitched her shift all the way up to the top of her thighs and crawled up behind Winston.

"Young Tommy boy is getting kinky!" she declared loudly.