Nicole - the Truth at Last

Chapter 01: Meeting Vanessa

If you've read "From Jeannie to Vanessa," you already know me, Nicole, and my then-boyfriend, Siller. If you haven't, read it! I'm not going to re-tell her story. I wanted to set the record straight, though, because Vanessa was protecting my privacy, and Siller's, when she wrote about her D/s relationship with Jack. Now that we're all older, and nobody's likely to be hurt by the truth anymore, I'm proud to (still) be a special friend.

Jack and Vanessa always called us their "vanilla" friends, which was kind of an inside joke since we were both African-American. She showed me what she wrote in "Literotica," and I thought it was cool that she did it in honor of Jack. She agreed to let me use her "v22omk" identity, so that our stories could be connected. So here it is.

I came into her tale in Chapter 7, although I had known "Jeannie" for some time. That day in the bathroom of Jack and Siller's suite, when I discovered the whip marks Jack had put on her legs, I was

hot!

When she tried to explain, I was like, whatever girl. I know about guys hitting girls, I

grew up

in that scene. The girl can excuse it however she wants to, it's still a guy hitting a girl. I was ready to give Jack what for, right then and there. But she made it clear she was a party to it -- she specifically said it was consensual -- so I throttled back a little. I still made her take my number, and I told her I would be watching.

The crazy thing was, Silly (my alleged boyfriend) couldn't shut up about her after he had seen her earlier in the dorm. He went on and on about how much she had

changed

, and how

good

she looked. My boy Silly (his name is Sylvester, he likes to be called Siller, "rhymes with killer" he says all the time, so I call him "Silly" just to tick him off) is kind of dense sometimes, but eventual-fucking-ly he realized my temperature was rising. I have a fuse, but not a very long one.

"Look, babe, I'm just sayin' she really changed. She was always sweet and nice, but there is something goin' on between those two that has really heated her up."

"Yeah Silly, you wanna try drinkin' some white milk out of blondie's bowl, you just go right ahead." I waved my fist in front of his eyes.

He laughed. "Ah come on, Nikki, you know it ain't like that! I'm jus' describing the environment, you know what I'm sayin', being observant and all. You gotta admit, those were some killer heels she had on. Those would look good on you, girl!"

I had to admit, he was right about that. They

were

killer heels, and I would have to find out where she got them...

To be fair, well, Siller had it right about Jeannie, too. She was sweet, and nice, and about as color-blind as you could expect from a white G.R.I.T.S. (that's 'girl raised in the South' to you yankees). She was also really cute, if not stunningly gorgeous. And something

had

changed about Jeannie since I had last seen her. She had a...kind of

heat

about her.

I had poked Siller in the ribs because he was noticing her a little

too

much. But when she looked at me...she seemed to be looking at me in a sexy way, almost a "lez be friends" look. I had never even thought of doing a girl, but suddenly it was in my head. Whoa!

But Siller wasn't done. He was dropping me off at my apartment before going back to the room he shared with Jack, since classes started early on Monday. He walked me up to the door, but I could see he still had something on his mind. Something that made his shorts stick out, I mean.

"Hey babe, you know I'm only interested in chocolate milk, and only from

your

bowl, know what I'm sayin'? Hows about givin' me a little taste?"

Well, I had always said, it doesn't matter where you get your appetite, as long as you eat at home. With this charming invitation in my ear, we waltzed into the apartment, already in a lip-lock, Siller kicking the door closed with his foot. We shed clothes like snakes shedding skin, leaving a trail of socks and shorts and jeans and panties all the way to the bedroom. Finally careening into the bed, I pulled his t-shirt off, revealing his smooth and muscular ebony torso.

Siller was darker than I was, but we made a nice two-tone pair when we tangled in the sack. I one-handed his stiff cock out of his remaining garment and stroked it, tip to base, loving the velvety feel. Siller was content to lean back and let me take charge for the moment, so I did. I scooted down in the bed and began to lick his balls and shaft, concentrating on that spot underneath the head. Finally, I opened my mouth and sank it gradually onto his cock. He slipped his hands into my curls and began to guide my mouth, the tightness of his grip increasing as I worked my lips up and down.

Then he eased up with his hands, stroking my hair lightly and said, "Baby, that's so good, but I meant what I said about wanting to drink from

your

bowl..."

Although I dearly loved sucking his big meat, I was more than happy to oblige his request. We traded positions in the bed, and Siller began to demonstrate his "bowl" -licking prowess. The boy

did

know how to tongue a girl's snatch. He parted my pubic curls and licked and sucked on the outer lips and then gave my little man in the boat a little motor-boating treatment with his tongue which drove me

wild!

I could feel his short beard scratching lightly around my tender flesh and that just added to the fun.

An unsought thought popped into my head for just a second...what would it feel like to have a girl doing that? Jesus, Mary and Joseph! But I pushed it away and got my unruly brain back on track as he worked that little man without mercy.

Soon I was

begging

him to plant his seed, and like a gentleman, he complied with my request. He rose up over me and slipped my t-shirt off and lifted my boobs out of my sports bra. He gave those brown babies some of the same attention he had done for my puss, and once the nipples had stiffened up nicely, he slid that big dick of his deep into my girly garden while driving his tongue down my throat.

I tasted myself on his lips and that merely increased my passion. He rode me like he was breaking a wild pony (I was bucking pretty hard!) and I wrapped my legs around his thighs. I could feel his nuts bouncing against my pussy when he slammed into me. He drew back and worked his stiff cock in and out of me until I was screaming for release. Pretty soon both of us were going over the edge and I could feel the hot jets of cum pumping out of his dick and splashing my insides.

We lay there, exhausted, for just a few minutes. Soon Siller packed away his weapon of choice and headed off to the dorm, giving me one last lingering kiss before he did so.

I lay there for a minute or two, wondering where that weird unasked-for thought had come from. And then I remembered...Jeannie's long look.

Besides being curious about that aspect, I was genuinely interested in getting to know both Jack and Jeannie a little better. Siller and Jack were rapidly becoming tight. Jack's previous roommate, Mick, the guy that had actually known Jeannie in high school and had introduced her to Jack, had dropped out of school and joined the Air Force during the summer.

Siller transferred from a community college in New York to Jack's well-known southern engineering school, and he told me he had been a little nervous about who he would get as a roommate. Jack was also studying engineering, and the two had hit it off famously. Jeannie already had Jack's undivided attention when we met.

Jack had another close (female) friend at school, DeeDee, who was also really sweet, but I didn't like being around her boyfriend, Rick. He didn't seem to like Siller and I very much, and the feeling was mutual. I had a funny feeling that something unusual was going on between Rick and DeeDee, but it was much later that I found out what.

I had heard through the grapevine that Jack and Jeannie had had a

very

public falling out on Friday night, an argument that somehow involved Rick and DeeDee. The way I heard it,

Rick

said something to Jeannie and she absolutely ripped

Jack

a new one, stomping away from him and no-shit pulling the engagement ring off of her finger. DeeDee had talked intensely to her for a few minutes, and there had been some arguing there, too.

But in the end Jack had proposed again -- down on one knee even -- in the Student Union. And Jeannie had said yes.

All that had happened just two days prior to her showing up in the suite with welts all over the front of her thighs, welts that she inadvertently showed me in the bathroom when she was adjusting her skirt after going to the toilet. I had also seen that her boobs were bare underneath her white blouse, but she was wearing something, a bra or top, that lifted them up but left the nipples exposed. I'd also noticed (along with the whip marks) that she was wearing garter stockings. Curiouser and curiouser.

So, imagine my surprise when Jeannie called me up the next week to talk. As you know from her story, this was all happening in the mid-80's. Long distance calls cost a lot in those days, so long talks were out of the question. But it was clear Jeannie appreciated my concern, and also wanted to get to know me a little better. She could see Siller and Jack really liked each other, and Siller and I had been a "thing" almost since the day he set foot on campus at the beginning of the semester. Plus, we were both English majors -- she was Lit, I was Ed.

It turned out that my hometown -- a small rural community -- was just about dead even between her school and her home city. So we came up with a plan to spend a weekend together. We'd spend Friday night at her house, meet her folks, and then she would spend Saturday night at my house and meet my mother.

Well, I don't know if she "warned" her folks or not, but they were about as nice to me as you could have asked for, and we had a lot of fun. I grew up fishing, so once that became known her dad and I had a lot to talk about. Friday night we played some board games with her folks and then pretty much crashed.

Now there

was

a strange moment that night, in her bedroom. It seemed to me like she didn't mind if I saw her naked. I mean, we're both girls, so no big deal, but I mean usually girls don't

display

themselves in the altogether to one another.

But Jeannie, she was almost proud of the fading marks made by a belt or whip or something (which I saw were front

and

back, although the most recent seemed to be on her butt, legs, and breasts). She also didn't hide the fact that she was shaved "down there."

She didn't repeat the "lez be friends" look I thought (imagined?) I saw in the dorm room. But I remembered the unbidden notion that had entered my mind while Siller was working out on my puss. And I wondered...

We talked about our relationships that night. I told her how I believed I might have really found something good with Siller, and that despite his smack talk, he was really considerate and kind to me.

Jeannie opened up about her love affair with Jack, and explained about the Dominant/submissive relationship and a little bit about what that meant. But what really blew my mind was the explanation of what the big argument had been about.

Jack had let Rick

fuck

her while she was

blindfolded and tied up

and then

lied

to her about it! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I was ready to frickin' call him right then and there to give him a piece of my mind. I think I actually got a little rowdy and she was afraid her parents would hear.

Suddenly she was on the bed next to me, practically begging me to calm down. I guess I went on and on in my hot-burning-fuse kind of way, and the next thing I knew, she was crying. I put my arms around her and held her, not really knowing what to do. Finally, she lifted her face to me and spoke.

"You said I could trust you," she said through her tears, "and so I did."

That shook me, and

did

shut me up. I had promised her, that day in the dorm bathroom, that her confidences would be safe with me.

"Nicole, I know you have to see this through your own filters, based on where you're coming from, and that's OK. But you've got to realize, I want this, I'm happy, I'm trying to explain myself. I know it's totally crazy for you. I'm telling you this because I want you as a friend. But I trusted you, and now you've got to trust that I know my own heart."

I looked down at her. She was soft, and seemed fragile, but there was steel underneath. Whether or not she knew her own heart, that was for her to decide. She knew her own mind, I was getting that message Lima Charlie, as my big brother would say...Army talk for loud and clear.

There was another thing going on...the heat from her skin was heating mine up too. I could smell her, so close, her blonde hair drifting over my darker-colored arm. That momentary look -- back in the dorm room -- came suddenly to my mind. The thought that had come to me while Siller was licking my puss...yeah, that came back too.

She smiled at me, and without warning kissed me very lightly on the lips.

"Thanks for being here, Nicole. Thanks for listening. Thanks for not judging."

I held her a moment longer, all of a sudden not wanting to let her go. But let her go I did.

The twin bed was comfortable, but it was more difficult than I had expected to get to sleep that night, with her just across the room, and the touch of her soft lips still on mine...

******

Saturday we went out touring the city. Since it was getting cooler, I wore jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt, and wedges. She wore a light jacket, blouse, skirt and heels, although just 4-inch ones, not the amazing heels she had on at Jack's and Siller's room. I had mentioned along the way that Siller and I really liked the 'killer' heels. She smiled and offered to show me where she had gotten them. I love shopping (what girl doesn't?), so I was down with that.

I wasn't really ready for

Visions in Lace

, however. It was fancier than the clothing stores I shopped in, and seemed focused, mainly, on lingerie and wedding stuff. Jeannie told me the heels had come from here, although I didn't see a shoe section. Jeannie told me about the owner, Marguerite, and that she was originally from East Germany.

It was clear Jeannie was known there, because Marguerite, a beautiful, tall, dark-haired older woman with pale skin, came directly up to her when we walked in. When she walked up, she gave Jeannie a long look, a look that you could have lit a cigarette from, it was so hot. And it was clearly returned by Jeannie. What the fuck?

"My beautiful Vanessa, so nice to see you again. And who is your lovely companion?"

"Marguerite, I would like you to meet my friend Nicole. She's particularly interested in the black heels I got from you. She might like to look around at some of the other things too...."

Marguerite clasped my hand warmly. Marguerite definitely had a cool German accent, but I was still trying to get my head around the fiery look she and 'Vanessa' had exchanged. Vanessa? Again, WTF?

"So nice to meet you, Nicole. I am so pleased Vanessa brought you today. I hope you see something you like! We don't actually have a shoe section in the store, but I keep a few pair in stock for special customers. Come on back to the dressing area and let me take some measurements."

While we were walking back to the rear of the store, I asked Jeannie, "Vanessa?"

Jeannie gave me a conspiratorial smile, "It's a pet name Jack uses for me. Marguerite knows both, but I guess she just likes 'Vanessa.'"

I knew what a pet name was, usually something like 'honeybunch' or 'babygirl' or something like that. But 'Vanessa?' That was a new one.

Another thought occurred to me. "Jeannie, this looks like an expensive place. I hate to have Marguerite spend a lot of time, only to discover the shoes cost more than I can spend."

Jeannie replied, "Don't worry about it. If they're too expensive, she'll understand. But she's pretty flexible."

I gave her a look at that. I was beginning to wonder what "flexible" meant in this context. Hmmm.

In the dressing area, Marguerite personally measured my feet. And my waist. And my bust. And...and...and...it went on and on.

While she was doing it, she explained herself in precise but accented English. "Nicole, I know this seems excessive for just a pair of shoes, but when a new potential customer comes in, I like to take a full set of measurements so that I can be ready if she needs something in particular later on, or perhaps even needs custom work. Who knows, I might be fortunate enough to gain her business for the long term.

"And frankly," she continued, "I don't have a large black clientele. I would like to expand my business to women of color. If I can help you, and impress you with the quality of my offerings and service, that would be the best possible advertisement for me. So, I am doubly glad Vanessa brought you today, Nicole. I'm always glad to see Vanessa and any of her friends. And I hope you will become a customer."

Well, that was about as plain-spoken as you would want to hear, and I actually appreciated her directness. I liked this lady already. Now for the hot looks....

"Now, to the shoes. Let me bring out some examples that I think will fit, and maybe a few that won't, so you can see the styles. I can always order a size if I don't have it available."

Marguerite brought out several shoe boxes and laid them out. She had a pair like the ones I had seen Jeannie wear that night at the dorm, the black patent high platform closed-toe shoes, as well as similar shoes in black leather, white patent and white leather, some black strappy platform sandals, some brown ankle boots, some peep-toe heels and a pair of black patent pointed-toe pumps. All of the shoes had what I would call 'stiletto' heels, very narrow and tall. All the heels looked like they were at least five inches tall, the platform ones were even taller.

"Nicole, do you see anything you like?" Marguerite queried.

"I actually like the ones Jean...I mean Vanessa has," pointing at the first pair she had brought out, "but I also like the pumps. They look really classy."

"Well, it turns out we don't have the black platforms in your size right now, but we do have the pumps. Would you like to try them on?"

"Yes, please. Do you have some footies, or something?"

"I have something I think you will like better." Marguerite reached into a box and came out with what I first thought were opaque garter stockings. "These are thigh-high stockings. They have an elastic band at the top that keeps them up without garters. Put these on in the dressing room, and you can get a better idea of how the shoes will fit -- and how they will look. You have very lovely, slender legs so they should really fit you well and look very nice. I think you may like to show off your legs in shorter skirts, so this color will give you a very finished look. Much better than with the jeans."

It was funny, I had actually heard other black women recommending opaque hose for wear with shorter skirts. This Marguerite knew her stuff!

And so I found myself in my t-shirt and bikini panties and with thigh-high stockings on my legs -- and hosiery was something I actually didn't wear very often. Marguerite was right -- they fit great and looked even better, particularly when I got the heels on and walked onto the mirrored stage. Siller would be drooling all over me!

Funny thing was, it looked like I wouldn't have to wait on Siller to get a positive reaction. Both Jeannie and Marguerite were clearly enjoying the view. What was with these two?