Special dedication to Amy and Lady 'L'
"Hi, this is Barb. Is this Amy?"
"Yes, this is Amy. Hello!"
"Hi...err, God, I can't believe I'm doing this!"
"Don't worry Barb. I've never done it either. I mean, I've never actually talked to someone I met on the Internet, never mind a sex website," said the youthful, feminine voice.
"It's just, I'm not really sure of...what we're even supposed to talk about. Ya know?" I asked and paced.
"Well, you have a very sexy voice. I just knew you would," she added, trying to calm my concerns.
"You mean, not bad, for an old broad?" I laughed.
"Hey Barb, we're gonna have to get past that age thing, OK? I mean it doesn't mean that much to me," insisted Amy.
"So, it doesn't bother you that at 50-something I'm old enough to be your mother?"
"No. If anything, it kind of turns me on! I don't think I have a mother complex, or anything weird like that. And, for sure, I’m not a lesbian. It's just that lately I been wondering what it would really be like..." She paused.
"What would it be like to have sex with a woman?" I guessed.
"YES, exactly. And, well, when I read some of your stories, specially "Sex in the Spa", it made me sooo hot!" She cooed.
"To be honest, it got me hot writing it too! I have to admit that," I agreed and blushed.
"God Barb, was that a true story? I mean did that really happen with you and your sister-in-law?" She begged.
"Pretty much so, yeah. Oh I took some literary liberties and embellished a few scenes, but for the most part..."
"WOW! Now I really am hot! Just the thought of you three mature babes gettin' it on like that for real! WOW! You must get all kinds of feedback?"
"Yeah Amy, I did! Typically, most of it was from my male readers, and that's to be expected. But, what I didn't plan on was the many sweet and erotic email responses from women!"
"Really?" She questioned, but I could tell by her tone, she wasn't surprised.
"There was one lady in particular, I mean beside yourself, that sounded really hot. Her name was... we'll just call her Lady "L", she had 40DD's and she wanted to..., well you can imagine. It was awfully inviting!"
"Hmmm. Maybe you should contact her, and I could watch the two of you make out?"
"So you would just wanna watch, is that it?" I asked pointedly.
"Well, it's like I said, I'm just bi-curious," she said timidly.
"Curious? Oh, I see! So, how much would it take to quench your curiosity?"
"I... I don't know," she stuttered.
"How far would you let my experienced hands travel up your curvilicious 22-year-old body?"
"I... I can't say," she whispered slowly.
"When I brush back your long brown hair, and lightly kiss your neck, are you more than a little curious?"
"I..."
"When your dark eyes are mere inches from my blue eyes, and my hand behind your head cradles your lips to meet mine; when the passion of our first kiss offers only the desire for more and more seduction, will you still be curious for more?
"YES, GOD YES!!
"Me too, Baby!"
"Jesus Christ, Barb! I've never thought the first time I had phone sex it would be with a woman? You are something else, Honey!"
"So are you, Amy. So are you."
"Hey, I just had a thought. I've got some vacation time coming; maybe we should meet?" She asked, like a kid anticipating a new toy.
"I think that sounds workable!" I answered, with my own brand of youthful exuberance.
It was then, we made plans to meet at a neutral location that would be a comfortable driving distance for both of us. After some web surfing, I found a little bed-n-breakfast that seemed ideal. Many more heated phone conversations finalized our itinerary. In order to keep our meeting discreet, I suggested that I reserve a room in my name with Amy listed as my daughter. She was amiable to that arrangement, and we both eagerly awaited our secret rendezvous.
The days slowly came and went; the miles stretched on forever, until finally I caught sight of the interstate exit sign. Another 35 miles and our little hideaway was in sight. It was only then my heart sank. What if we didn’t turn each other on? What if there simply no physical attraction, or chemistry? God, what if we didn’t care for each other AT ALL? Worst of all, what if all this was an elaborate hoax set up by some sick pervert to do me in? But she sounded so sweet and sincere, I just HAD to trust in my female intuition. I was sure these thoughts were flashing through both our brains. Oh well, I’ve come these many miles; I can’t turn around now.
The old renovated Victorian house was just the sort of romantic abode I had imagined. A worn Persian carpet greeted me at the door and muffled my steps, as I made my way to a tiny counter with pigeon-holed mail boxes behind. I detected the wholesome smell of fresh-baked bread and rang the bell. Expecting to see some old lady clothed in 19th century garb, I was taken back at the appearance of a 30-something young man in shorts and muscle shirt.
“I’m sorry. Have you been waiting long?” Asked the smiling, dark-haired owner.
“Why no, I just got here,” I said, returning his cute smile.
“I’m John, and you must be… Barbara, right?” He offered his flour-covered hand.
I shook his hand, pretending not to notice the white substance. Glancing down at his tanned muscular legs, I caught sight of the powder and blushed.
“Yes, but you can call me Barb.”
“Dam, I’m sorry. I’ve got flour all over you,” he apologized and tried wiping it from my black knee-length skirt.
Wiping it only caused the flour to deepen into the fabric. Noticing his mistake, he knelt at my feet, pulled the skirt apart and tried his best to brush it off. Though his determination was commendable, I was becoming self-conscious by his overt actions. Intent on erasing his error, he partially raised my skirt
“That’s quite all right. Don’t worry about it. I can get it out later,” I said, lightly touching the top of his head.
I wondered what someone might think if they came in and caught sight of his maneuvers and location. With one hand halfway up inside the front of my skirt, he raised his face to look at mine.
“I am so sorry, Ma’am. Tell you what, if Carol can’t take it out, I’ll run it to the cleaners,” he said sheepishly.
“Carol?” I asked.
“Yeah, Carol’s my w-“ he started, when a female voice chimed in.
“His wife,” she continued.
Dressed in short-short denim coveralls with a pink tube top peaking through the sides, Carol eyed us with hands on hips.
“Trying to feel up our guests again, John. You naughty boy,” she scolded.
“Hi, I’m Carol. I see you’ve already met my degenerate husband,” she said grinning.
“Hi. I’m Barb. I believe we talked on the phone?”
“Yes, I took your reservation,” she remarked and moved me away from blushing John and toward the counter.
“Does he always…” I began.
“No. No, Actually I think that’s the first time I’ve caught him with his hand up another lady’s skirt!” She admitted, with a dry humor.
Her nonchalant demeanor coupled with her attractive good looks made for quite an appealing package. Her messy strawberry-blond hair framed a sunny red, right-off-the-farm face that sparkled with the age of a woman in her late twenties, I guessed.
“How long are you planning on staying with us, Barb?”
“Well, I’m not really sure. Like I mentioned on the phone, it kind of depends on how long my daughter can stay. She’s attending college in New York. This is her summer break. I’m not sure if she has other plans,” I said, just as rehearsed.
“I see. Well, she hasn’t arrived yet. Can I show you to your room?” Said Carol smiling.
“You folks have a beautiful place here –very romantic!” I noted, as we climbed a long staircase.
“Thanks. We have had to put plenty of work into the ‘ole girl, but I think it’s worth it. Hope you don’t mind having your room down the hall from ours?” Carol asked.