A Psychological Turn of Mind

This novella deals with themes of reluctant participation in a lesbian setting. If you think you might find such material offensive please try another story.

Chapter 1

The applause swelled as I stepped up to the rostrum to accept the award and my only regret was that my mother and father were not there to share the moment. Whilst I gave my short, prepared, speech I scanned the audience in the hope of seeing my sister but, in spite of her promise, it looked as if she had not made it.

It had been a long day and, as soon as it was polite to do so, I slipped away and took a cab back to my hotel. My mind was still buzzing as I unlocked the door to my room and let myself in but I was jolted back to reality.

It was not so much the surprise of finding a woman on the bed as the fact that she was gloriously naked with her hand purposefully between her legs. I took in the situation at a glance. The woman had propped up the pillows to make herself comfortable and was watching a porn film featuring two pneumatic German blondes who were theatrically fondling one another's breasts.

For a moment I remained frozen in the doorway, unsure how to react, but then, without missing a beat, the woman turned to me.

"I think you have the wrong room."

"I'm dreadfully sorry!"

Without thinking I left the room, closing the door behind me, but on checking my pass card I found that the door number tallied. More confused than ever, I took the lift back downstairs and looked for the concierge.

The desk advised that two keys had been requested for the room and I, in turn, confirmed that the second one was for my fiancé who would be joining me the following day. I was ushered through to the bar where I was presented with a complimentary drink whilst the problem was resolved but now I was concerned about her luggage which had been sent on ahead.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, and with profuse apologies, the concierge escorted me back to the room which looked pristine. The bed was remade and a vase of fresh flowers lent a heavy scent. My suitcase, seemingly untouched, stood by the bed.

As I showered I wondered what had happened, and who the woman was, but I was too tired to give it much thought. I slipped into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

I had set aside the following morning for sightseeing and to this end I went down for an early breakfast. I was sipping coffee and catching up on the news when I was tapped on the shoulder.

"Good morning. I guess I owe you an apology."

I was shocked to be confronted by my surprise visitor. The previous night I had wondered if she might have been a hooker who had taken advantage of an empty room but seeing her now, in an expensively tailored two-piece business suit complete with a Louis Vuitton document case, I realized that I was very much mistaken.

She was startlingly attractive. She had close cropped black hair framing an oval face in which her dark eyes shone brightly beneath a pair of perfectly sculpted eyebrows. In fact her whole appearance screamed high maintenance. Her make-up was immaculate and, when she smiled, her full red lips opened to reveal Hollywood perfect teeth.

"That's quite alright. These things happen."

She put out a hand.

"Liana."

Without thinking I took it and it was only as I felt its warmth that I was confronted with an unsettling image of her as she had been just a few hours previously.

"Would you think it terribly presumptuous of me if I joined you? I'm meeting a business colleague here."

She took a seat opposite and I was lost for anything to say. In that end I settled for something inane.

"Liana, that's a nice name."

"French. My mother was from Limoges."

For the next few minutes she seemed content to talk about herself and, in spite of my initial reservations, I found myself warming to her. She had a manner of speaking that was almost conspiratorial, as though she were divulging secrets to a best friend, and her slightly accented English added further charm.

When she found out that I was alone for the day she asked if I would care to join up for lunch; her meeting was to be a couple of hours at most after which she was at a loose end.

In the normal course of events I would have refused her offer but, ignoring my better judgment, I accepted.

For want of anywhere better we met up in the hotel coffee shop and for an hour I sat entranced as she regaled me with stories about her job as a clothes buyer for a major department store; it made my own career in academia seem so dry by comparison.

After lunch she invited me up to her room to see some of the samples she had been telling me about and, with childhood memories of dressing up games in mind, I tagged along.

Her room was in a new annex, a long way from mine, and, as we walked together, I wondered idly how the previous evening's mistake had occurred.

"What do you think of this?"

She was holding up a emerald green brocaded top It was not the sort of thing I would normally wear and my dislike must have shown.

"You're not seeing it properly. You have to see it on."

Her enthusiasm was infectious but I was taken by surprise as she quickly unfastened her blouse and threw it onto the bed. Underneath she was wearing a half cup bra with lace trimming which hovered between pretty and provocative. Her breasts were a similar size to mine at 34C and I wondered if I dare ask where she had bought it.

She put on the top and, on her, with her dark colouring, it looked stunning but she could see that I was still dubious.

"Here, try it."

She took the top off and handed it to me.

"I couldn't."

"Of course you can. Don't be silly."

I took it from her and instinctively looked towards the bathroom but she had had no qualms about undressing in front of me and I did not want to appear prudish. I took off my own blouse, revealing my altogether more modest underwear, and put it on.

Standing in front of the mirror I was surprised at how nice it looked on me and I turned a shoulder to get the full effect.

"That is so you...but wait, try wearing it like this."

As I stood there she came up behind me and reached around to undo the buttons,

She slipped it off my shoulders and, before I realized what was happening, she had unfastened my bra.

I covered myself instinctively but she was holding out the top for me to put back on.

I never go braless but it felt so comfortable. It seemed to mould and support my breasts and, whilst my natural state would not be obvious to a casual observer, it brought the top alive in a new way.

As I continued to preen myself in front of the mirror I realized that I had a problem. The movement of the fabric had brought my nipples to an embarrassing prominence and, for a second or two, I conjured up an image of myself wearing this and little else whilst my fiancé looked on with a expression of pure lust on his face.

Liana stood expectantly, waiting for me to take it off again, and I felt the colour in my cheeks heighten but, if she noticed my state of arousal, she contrived to ignore it. Over the next half an hour we tried on more outfits and she had no reservations about stripping right down to her panties in front of me. The truth was I felt intimidated by her; she was a beautiful woman with self confidence to spare and it was as if I were standing in her shadow.

Having taken off yet another dress I stood, once again, in just panties and stockings resisting the urge to cover my breasts. The tension must have been obvious to her because she took hold of my shoulders and turned me towards the mirror.

"You are a very beautiful woman but the real art is to exude it."

She smiled at my puzzled expression.

"You know one of the tricks I use? Imagine you are someone else. Not someone outrageously different, perhaps someone famous, with similar features. It gives you a focus, makes you aware of how you carry yourself. You, you remind me of that actress in the film Grease."

"Olivia Newton-John?"

"That's her."

She held my hair behind my head, imitating a ponytail, and I could see something of a likeness. I shared her blonde hair, blue eyes and high cheekbones and I had always thought that I looked younger than my twenty-eight years.

I was still contemplating the image when she shocked me by reaching through my arms and cupping her hands under my breasts.

"She can't compete with you in this department."

She held their weight for a couple of seconds and then released me but it was time enough for my nipples to react.

Feeling flustered I grabbed for my own clothes and quickly put them back on. I made my excuses, saying that I had to get ready for my fiancés arrival, and Liana began tidying up.

She saw me to the door and thanked me profusely for lunch.

"Wait."

As I stood in the doorway she grabbed a carrier bag and began stuffing it with bits and pieces from her wardrobe.

"Free samples, cosmetics mainly, I get given them all the time."

She was being overly generous and must have sensed my unease.

"Please, you would be doing me a favour, I couldn't take them all back with me."

I got back to my own room and was surprised to see how late it was. Any thoughts about further sightseeing were set aside as I prepared for Daniel's arrival. As I showered I reflected, not for the first time, on the odd nature of our relationship. We had been together for four years and got engaged after three but in reality we had probably been in the same country together, at any one time, for something less than twelve months; his career as a field archaeologist and mine as a lecturer conspired to keep us apart.

Even this meeting was contrived. Daniel was on his way to the University of Columbia from Syria but he had engineered a stopover so that we could be together for one night. Fortunately his flight was on time and we were able to meet up at the restaurant as planned.

It had been two months since I had last seen him and his ruggedly handsome face looked even more weathered making him appear older than his thirty-four years. We brought each other up to date over the meal and then we adjourned to the hotel for a furious bout of lovemaking. As usual, after so long a period of abstinence, he came quickly but, much to my surprise, I was able to climax with him and I gave him no respite. I teased him back to readiness and rode on top of him until I reached a second orgasm and was disappointed when he could not manage a third.

He fell asleep leaving me to ponder my wantonness and I guiltily concluded that it was the result of the frisson that I had been feeling all afternoon from being with Liana. This set off an awkward train of thought, as I was in no way attracted to other women, and I found that I could not get to sleep.

I picked up my book, thinking that I would drift off after a page or two, when I remembered the bag of goodies that she had thrust upon me. I had not had time earlier but now felt quite excited. I retrieved the bag and sitting cross-legged on the floor I gently emptied it in front of me. It was mainly cosmetics but there were also some nicely wrapped panties and a pretty scarf.. I picked it up to see it better and gasped audibly. Underneath it was an expensive looking vibrator.

It was large, much larger than my own modest model, but, more disturbingly, it was not new. It was fashioned from black plastic which had dulled with use and had the look of an old favourite. I stared at it for a few seconds unsure what to do and then, tentatively, I picked it up between my fingertips.

I had a fleeting image of Liana using it and for reasons I could not explain to myself, I brought it closer to my face and took a furtive sniff. Appalled at my own behaviour, I was relieved to find that it smelt of nothing at all and I quickly thrust it back into the carrier bag.

I collected the other gifts together and, having put them to one side, I crept back into bed. Before long I drifted off into a fitful sleep only to be rudely awakened by a six a.m. alarm call.

We barely had time for showers and breakfast before the taxi arrived to take Daniel to the airport and I was left with a familiar empty feeling as I waved him off.

Back in the room I began to pack ready for my own afternoon flight but I was left in a quandary as to what to do with the vibrator. I could have thrown it away and pretended that I had never seen it but then there was a possibility that Liana would realize what had happened and might ask for it back.

In the end, and unusually for me, I decided to be bold. I went to her room and rang the bell. There was no immediate answer and I was about to go away again when the door opened. Liana was standing there in the hotels complementary robe obviously having just come from the shower.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, don't be silly, come on in."

I followed her inside and sat down on the edge of the bed. With a broad smile I handed her the bag.

"I think you may have been more generous with your freebies than you thought."

I expected her to be embarrassed but she looked in the bag and took out the vibrator as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I thought that must have been what happened. Did you try it?"

I was caught off balance by the casual way in which she said it

"No, of course not."

"You should have done. It's the best. Boy, did I miss it last night."

As she spoke she used the robe to towel herself seemingly unaware that she was affording me a view of her naked body.

"This hotel has a great porn channel."

She must have seen the shock register on my face.

"Oh, come on, you must have taken a peek."

The truth was I had not. Once or twice, in the past, my curiosity had got the better of me but I found nothing arousing about the manufactured sex that was presented.

"It's not my thing."

"Well congratulations to you if you can get off on your own fantasies."

Her smile became just a little mischievous.

"What does it for you? A threesome? Two guys or a guy and a girl?"

"I don't need that. I have Daniel."

"You're telling me that a feisty girl like you doesn't fantasize?"

She moved closer to me in that conspiratorial way of hers.

"I have a regular boyfriend but that doesn't stop me indulging in a few flights of fancy. In this industry I get propositioned a lot, particularly the girls, you'd be surprised how many of the top models are lesbians."

I thought back to the film that I had caught her watching and started to feel distinctly uncomfortable but she continued unabashed.

"It's not that the girls aren't tempting I just need a little something extra."

She was now right beside me, almost whispering in my ear, and I could feel her body heat.

"You know what really turns me on?..."

She said it so quietly that I turned my head slightly to hear better only to find myself looking directly at her breasts which had spilled from the robe altogether.

"...I like the idea of making a straight woman go down on me."

I sat immobile, my eyes slightly widened, hardly believing what I was hearing

"Just imagine. She would be a little unsure at first, a little clumsy perhaps, but I would direct her, telling her just what I like."

She was hovering over me and I felt like a mouse caught in the shadow of a hawk. I could see the slight dampness on her skin and I could smell the citrus tones of shower gel.

"What do you think?"

Her voice was husky, almost mesmeric, and the question had so many connotations.

She shifted slightly and the edge of the robe caught on my knee opening it further. It was now like a curtain hiding us from the rest of the world, she naked and me staring mutely at the deep pit of her navel.

It was all so terribly wrong. I knew myself to be assertive, self-assured and, to the outside world, an authority figure, but I sat there awestruck. I wanted no part of what she was suggesting but she wove a spell around me.

I braced myself to get up, to laugh it off, to wish her luck with her fantasy, but I could not move. My world was bounded by her robe and the naked perfection of her body which was moving inexorably closer.

I turned my head to one side. Was it my fault? Had I led her on in some way? Would she be hurt by my refusal?

Even as these thoughts crowded in on me I felt the touch of her skin against my cheek. I remained motionless, listening to her heartbeat which seemed so much more controlled than my own, and then she leant forward slightly, enveloping me further, and I could feel the weight of her breasts pressing down on my head.

I was cocooned in a warm, comforting, darkness and then I felt her hand stroking my hair with a soothing gentleness. It seemed so natural to rest my face against the warm softness of her stomach and I felt my eyelids droop.

She continued with longer strokes following my hair down across the back of my neck and I bowed my head the better to enjoy the wonderful sensation. In my mind I was ticking off seconds telling myself that after the count of ten I would get up and pull myself together but ten became twenty and then thirty. The rhythmic caress disguised the fact that, by tiny degrees, her hand was becoming heavier and, millimeter by millimeter I was slipping down the wall of her stomach.

I felt a tickling sensation on my nose and came to with a start. I was poised at the border of her damp pubic hair and the smell of citrus was underscored by something altogether more spicy. I would have jerked but, anticipating my reaction, she stilled her hand to keep me in place and stroked behind my ear with the edge of her thumb.

Very gently I pushed upwards, testing the resistance, but she did not move. I wanted to tell her that she had misread the situation but, in some bizarre way, it seemed unladylike to speak whilst facing the floor.

For a few seconds we remained static, held in tension, but then her other hand came into view. Her fingernails were immaculately manicured and varnished a deep red. She flexed them in front of my face before grazing them through her nest of curls.

The effect was immediate. My nostrils were assailed by a rich, unmistakable, scent. On one level I was appalled but on another my unconscious mind forged the association with my own memories of arousal and I felt a warm, undesirable, tingling between my legs.

As I watched her fingers slowly rubbing over her mound I was almost mesmerized and I was slow to react when she suddenly cupped my mouth and nose with her hand. I gasped in surprise but, in so doing, I breathed her essence deep into my lungs.

My natural reaction was to open my mouth to draw a fresher breath but, as I did so, she slipped two wet fingers between my lips and my mouth was filled with a taste that was both tart and sweet.

I knew my own smell, every woman does, but I did not know my own taste. Daniel had often tried to get me to go down on him after we had made love but I had always steadfastly refused. The truth was that I found no pleasure in the act but I would do it for his sake as long as he had showered beforehand.

Now I was left to wonder if this was how I tasted; this earthy richness that had my tongue instinctively lapping for more as though it were doughnut sugar on my lips.

At that moment I tried to regain a grip on reality. I braced myself to push her away but she anticipated me as easily as if I were a child. With a gentle strength she pushed my head a couple of inches lower and, at the same time she removed her fingers from my mouth.

I was now pressed to her sex and I was amazed at how coarse it was. Ever since my own pubic hair grew in I have loved to run my fingers through it; not in an obvious attempt to stimulate myself but simply to enjoy the silky texture.

I supposed I had reasoned that all women were alike but Liana's sex was framed by a starkly delineated black Mohican of tight curls that had an almost masculine quality.