When I started my first job after college, I moved to New York, sharing an apartment with Hester, who had just graduated from Sarah Lawrence. I had gone to a smaller women's college. It wasn't too conservative, but not as liberal as I had heard Sarah Lawrence was. We slept on the twin beds in the bedroom. In the living/dining room, there was a sofa bed and two armchairs, coffee table and small square table with four chairs. The bathroom and kitchen were small, of course, but a real kitchen with a door.
We started our jobs and met our new colleagues, also trainees, going out for drinks after work, then groups forming and having cocktail parties in someone's flat. I didn't meet Hester's new colleagues until we agreed that it was our turn to have a party. With both our groups, the flat was crowded, overflowing the living room into our bedroom, not that anything untoward happened there, just more space for people to move around. We had provided plenty to drink, inviting people to help themselves in the kitchen.
They did, the men, usually with a second glass for whomever they were talking to. I found myself talking to men from Hester's crowd, and was a little surprised that men from mine seemed to be talking more with her. I was surprised, since she had mentioned that she found a couple of them more attractive, even the one who was talking to me. He still was later in the evening, after getting me a couple of more drinks. When I had to go to the bathroom, it was obvious that many other also had -- a couple of the men not too carefully. I wiped up and returned, finding some else waiting use the toilet, also finding that Bob -- that was his name -- was waiting to hand me another drink.
We drank, and I ventured to say, hopefully not slurring my words: "I thought you would be talking more with Hester."
He shrugged with a slight snort and nodded for us to move in a corner. When we had, he chuckled softly and replied: "Maybe, but the man in charge of trainees told the men 'not to dip our pens in the company ink.'"
We both smirked. I wasn't so high that I didn't understand the inference, nor to appreciate that maybe he could have been thinking about sleeping with Hester, and also -- if he had told me that -- that he wanted me to know that he thought about that. Was he thinking about that with me too?
I wasn't a virgin; I could, and maybe in the Big Apple things moved faster than they had in my college.
When he saw that I had smirked, he glanced over at Hester and whispered: "Maybe the guy in charge of trainees in your company said the same thing."
I shrugged with wry smile, and we talked about other things, until people began to leave. He offered to help clean up, as did my colleague, Jim, who had been talking with Hester. The four of us cleaned up. When we had finished, we emptied the little that was still in a whiskey bottle in glasses and had a final drink.
At the door, which one of us four pursed his or her lips? We kissed, then embraced. I was kissing Bob better than any first kiss I could remember, and it sounded like Hester and Jim were. Was that how it was in The Big Apple? As they were leaving, we all chuckled with grins, and then they were gone, Hester and I looking at each other with another grin. Was that what girls did in the Big City, French kiss with a guy whom they had just met?
In our beds that night, we did what we often had, but till then as surreptitiously as we could. We knew that the other one was masturbating, but we never mentioned it. This time we lost our reserve - the successful party, the alcohol, and just having kissed men that way. When we heard each other moan, we chuckled. I wondered if Hester was using both hands to arouse her pussy. I just had one hand there, as usual, but the other one was pinching and twisting my stiff nipples. I came, much better than since we had been sharing the room, but not as vocally as Hester did. When she had, she exclaimed softly: "Fuck, that was good; hope it was for you too."
I was a little shocked that she had said that. I had enjoyed that we could be more open about what we knew we both did, but I hadn't expected she would say anything. I agreed:
"Better than since we've been here."
"Yeah, for me too; not a couple of times, when you were out in the evening."
"Hmm?! You're worse than me; have to remember that next time you're out."
"Don't need to now,"Hester replied with a chuckle, adding: "even better, hearing you moaning."
"I guess so," I agreed, and we chuckled and said good night.
I fell asleep wondering if that was how it was in dorms at Sarah Lawrence; it hadn't been in my college. In the morning, both a little hungover, we smirked at each other.
During the following weekday nights -- not all of them -- that happened again, completely sober.
Bob and Jim had called and invited each of us out for dinner. After our first drunken kisses, of course, quickly one thing led to another, and we slept with them, not both the same night the first time, because Bob shared a flat with another guy, but Jim had his own flat, so when Hester didn't come home their first night together, she promised that she wouldn't the next weekend. Bob and I could use our flat.
We had our date. Bob was a little surprised, when I said that we could go back to our flat. I was also a little surprised at myself, inviting him to our flat; I sure wouldn't have done that a couple of months before. When he looked at me with a quizzical expression, I was even more direct, telling that Hester was spending the night with Jim.
"If you want to," he replied with nice smile and held my hand.
We clutched hands and walked to our building. When we were in our flat, then it was funny. Of course, we both knew what we wanted to do, but till then we had only kissed with his hand on my breast. New York wasn't like on my college campus, where we had been able to do more in the dark behind bushes: his hand inside my blouse and then inside my bra, and -- next date - inside the waistband of my skirt, an elastic one. We couldn't do that on a New York street; we didn't need to.
How were Bob and I going to start? In the flat, he also didn't seem to know how, which I liked, but that didn't help. Then he opened his jacket. I nodded with a smile and told him to make himself comfortable and fix us a drink while I went to the bathroom. He nodded with a mild grin, beginning to take off his jacket, but then reaching first in a side pocket -- for rubbers?
Was he just a good Boy Scout and always had them, or had he been anticipating the evening could end this way? I went to the bathroom, thinking to wet my washcloth before I sat down and went, then wiping my pussy with the washcloth, my panties around my ankles. Dry it? I wrung the washcloth out between my thighs and wiped again, hoping my panties wouldn't be too wet. While I pulled them back up, it occurred to me to put my pills where he could see them, then to leave my shoes in the bathroom.
I returned to find that he had taken off his jacket and also his tie. He had found the opened bottle of wine and handed me my glass. I noticed that he had seen my bare feet. We raised our glasses and had a sip. Then he excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned, now also barefoot, we both chuckled softly and had a better sip, before we sat down on the sofa with his arm around my shoulders.
It was too obvious what we both knew we were going to do, but started conventionally, kissing, but then our hands didn't hesitate to find skin. His slid unerringly up inside my sweater and onto my bra -- my lightest one, that let his fingers feel my aroused nipple. When my hand unbuttoned his shirt, his pushed my bra up. His fingers knew what to do with my nipple, the other one too, when mine found his. We chuckled, as our tongues caressed.
Big City Girl now, I slid my hand down and found the bulge in his pants. He nodded with an encouraging hum. Back in college, I had let the guys take all the initiative. Now my hand helped his cock move around so that I could grasp it. It wasn't going to matter if my panties were moist, they were now from my aroused pussy.
In college, we had always been in his room with his bed so near that it was the only place to continue, his suggesting we lie down. Now I had to, after a moment suggesting that we go somewhere else. "Somewhere" was obvious, my bed in the bedroom. He nodded with a moaning, and we did, leaving our wine glasses on the coffee table.
