Katie had been hot for the last six hours, and it was only for the last forty minutes that she'd been doing anything about it. Naked on her bed, she was playing with herself roughly by now, her toys lined up on the edge of her king-sized mattress. It had been a long day, and a lot had been accomplished, her promotion from senior junior-executive of her department to senior executive not the least of them. She had staged a major coup and then took her friends and supporters out for dinner at a highly priced restaurant in the city. Katie had ordered veal scaloppini, which only made her hotter. Taking one of her friends home for sex wasn't an option, so when they were done, Katie got out her toys and began to masturbate. At thirty-one, she was single and liked it that way.
Reverently, she picked up her favorite toy, a neon green, nine-inches-long, three-inches wide, vibrator-dildo with an hourglass figure, except that this device had three spheres instead of two. At one end, a cord protruded so that Katie could stick her hand through and leave the cord around her wrist-an emergency failsafe to remove the dildo in case she were to lodge it inside of her completely. Katie had yet to do that after nearly two years, but she thought she was ready for it tonight. Gingerly, she pushed the device against her labia, turning on the vibrator. With a thrust from her hands and her hips, the first sphere was swallowed by her hungry pussy, plunging her into a sea of orgasms. Katie groaned loudly, exultant in the fact that she was doing this to herself and no one could hear her: not her parents, not her coworkers, not her minister, not her brother. To them she would always be good, little Katie, the one who follows the rules and gets the job done. The vibrator squished in and out, making her cum, making her squeal with delight. God bless the person who created this wonder, she thought.
Just then an explosion rocked her street-a real explosion, not caused by, nor the euphemism for, an orgasm as she knew it. Quickly throwing on a black woolen cloak-a family heirloom-and wrapping it around her, she flipped the hood over her head. Stopping at her door long enough to slip the vibrator in to the second sphere and turn off the batteries, Katie rushed down the stairs in a flutter of shadows, pausing as she passed the mirror on the wall of the stairway to admire her refined features: delicate bone structure, light blue eyes, golden locks, small nose, full lips. Enough vanity, girl, she thought, people may be dying. She reached the front door in time to see a subcompact hit a telephone pole with a fiery blast of light and heat. Her eyes were riveted to the images beyond the window. The telephone pole swayed violently back and forth, ripping out one, then two cables. The streetlamp attached to the telephone pole and all the lights in Katie's home abruptly went out. "Shit!" The electric cable dangled from twenty feet up, raining blue death on the street below, the car, and anything else. She saw three figures emerge from the wreckage, stumbling toward her house.
My God, it's a miricle they survived! As a side note, she thought: at least the power outage won't affect many people-the next home is a few miles away. Searching the kitchen for a flashlight, Katie opened each and every drawer. The only things she could find were a dozen long-stemmed candles and a barbeque charcoal lighter-the kind with a trigger and a long spout for the flame. Lighting a candle, she searched for candelabras, finding two triads, a single, and a quintuplet setting. Arranging the candles in their holders, she brought out a few cloth place mats and brought the quintuplet candelabra, a place mat, and her lit candle with her to the living room, which was near the front door. Setting these things down on the piano that had been her grandmother's, Katie lit the five candles, then went back for the two triads. She set these down on a redwood coffee table next to her favorite rocking chair and a glass coffee table that had been in her family for five generations, which sat in front of the living room sofa. She lit each triumvirate in its turn, standing back to admire the way the candlelight played on the glass, the brass frame of the ancient coffee table, the sofa, the walls, the stairway. Katie loved candles, and thought about finding more to light when a knock came at the door. "Hold on a moment," she told the strangers, walking slowly and deliberately to the door. She wished now that she had removed the vibrator when she had the chance, but this was an interesting game she was playing with herself now, if a bit kinky and exhibitionistic. Katie made certain that both spheres were still inside of her, then opened the door, holding the single candle in one hand and the doorknob in the other. "Hello?" She pulled back the hood to reveal her face.
In front of her stood three women clad in jeans. The one to her left was dark and tall, possibly Greek or Italian, voluptuous, with a model's face and compelling eyes. Her hair was raven-black and shoulder length, and it brushed the matching denim jacket she wore. Next to her stood a petite redhead with delicate green eyes in a purple velour blouse, wearing sandals. Her hair was cut in a long approximation of a crewcut, perhaps four inches instead of the military standard, and was highly mixed with pink, giving it an unnaturally red color. The woman on the far right leaned against the door frame, a lopsided grin on her face; she wore a faded t-shirt and a torn leather jacket; her hair was blond, but little remained save stubble. All of them looked disheveled, soot-covered, the one on the right winning that contest with a cut that ran from her forehead to her temple; a few drops of blood ran down the left side of her face. Katie thought they might be dykes, but didn't care. The redhead looked youngest, possibly twenty, but that was pushing it. The other two seemed to be in their middle to late twenties, perhaps early thirties, with the darker one to Katie's left definitely being the eldest of all four women there. The redhead said something to the dark one that Katie didn't catch, and the blonde said, "Our car seems to have blown up. May we use your phone?"
Without thinking, Katie replied, "Of course. Come in." She laughed at the woman's way of saying things. Why bother mucking around, Katie thought, just get to the truth and damn the social formalities. After all, she thought, the car had blown up. She directed them to seats in the living room, then went to the kitchen for her cordless phone. She tested it, then called, "Um, I'm sorry, but my phone isn't working right now. Can I get you anything?" She rummaged in the refrigerator for something to drink, found an unopened bottle of Chateau de Loure, one of her favorite, though more expensive, red wines. It would calm her nerves a little, and who knew, maybe she'd have something in common with these women. Probably not, Katie reconsidered, but the dark one seemed refined, even if she was traveling with rabble. And dressing beneath herself, Katie added, though how she knew that she wasn't certain. "How about some Band-Aids for that cut," she offered. The blonde called from the other room, her voice coarse, that it was alright, and thanks anyway.
Katie felt someone watching her and turned around. The dark-haired woman stood behind her, five feet away, observing her every move. Katie squeezed her legs together before the vibrator began to fall, squeezing her vaginal muscles as well; the sensations that spread across her lithe frame almost made her drop the candle and the bottle of wine. She blushed as her legs turned to jelly, and the stranger rushed to help her, taking her by her underarms and lifting her to her feet. "Thank-you," Katie whispered, immensely turned on by this woman's proximity. "I-" she blushed darker, glad that her cloak covered the toy between her legs. The dark woman was silent, appraising Katie; she seemed to know about the vibrator, even though she couldn't possibly see it. Katie stammered an explanation, setting down the candle and the wine.
The stranger put her index finger to Katie's lips, making her feel like a schoolgirl, and said, "Forgive my sister. She sometimes forgets her manners. My name is Elsabeth. I am glad to have been of service to you." Her voice was lush, rich with a European accent. Katie was more inclined to place Elsabeth as Italian rather than Greek now, but her guest could have been French. "Thank-you for your hospitality. May I help you pour?" Elsabeth removed her finger from Katie's lips, smiling as Katie would envision royalty smiling.
