Archer's Lane Case 01

When they had reached the eighth floor, they finally got to their suite, led by the maid. Nothing could've prepared Eliza for what she saw there, though: Because the suite looked less like a hotel room, and more like a luxurious and large apartment, equipped with all possible amenities. Large thick carpets muffled all of her steps, and from the sprawling living area they entered, several doors led on to other rooms -- she could make out a bedroom, a bathroom, and perhaps even more beyond that -- all of them tastefully and expensively furnished with heavy, satin armchairs, a large open fireplace, finely engraved tables and display cabinets made from dark wood, panelled walls and large, high windows, draped with thick brocade curtains. She felt like a queen.

It took her a moment to notice that the maid talked to Kathleen in a muted voice. "... from there you can get to the president's suite unnoticed, the key is in here," she heard the young woman say solemnly, when she handed a sealed envelope to her boss.

Kathleen nodded as she took it into her possession. "Many thanks, my very esteemed... agent?" she answered hesitantly.

"Please, just call me Imogene," the woman replied. "Officially I don't even have a title."

"Imogene," the author repeated. "Well then, thank you very much. Even though I must say I had expected a... shall we say, more official welcome."

The woman looked bashful. "In high places there's the desire not to create much commotion over this," she explained with a sigh. "Especially since you're a woman, and a foreign one at that. You know how it is."

Kathleen laughed and pulled Eliza to her side in a friendly gesture when she answered. "And moreover, a woman who's with another woman, huh?" she remarked jokingly. "But hey, foreigners we are not, but very officially citizens of these great United States."

Imogene eyed them puzzled. "What do you mean, you're with one another?" she asked.

Eliza blushed and eyed Kathleen surreptitiously, who was obviously amused. Sometimes, the assistant didn't know if her boss meant everything she said in earnest. At times, it seemed as if she just said some things to gauge the reaction of her counterpart. And so, even though the thought of it gave her a warm feeling deep inside, she was careful not to overestimate the affection of the author.

"Girlfriends," Kathleen said unashamedly. "Very good girlfriends, who share home and bed with one another, and many other things as well, and pleasure each other the way only women can." Eliza nodded, even though she wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that. Maybe Kathleen saw more in her than she thought possible? And... didn't she do the same herself, without having the courage to say it out loud?

She expected the American to be shocked or repulsed, but instead, Imogene gave the two of them a thoughtful look, with one finger tipping against her right temple. "Interesting," she remarked. "Is that how you do it in Germany?"

Kathleen laughed. "Very much so," she replied. "In fact, so much so that they pay me handsomely to write about it."

"And what is it you write about?" the maid continued inquisitively.

The author gave Eliza a knowing look, and then stepped forward up to the young American, swaying her hips seductively as she spoke. "Oh, you know," she said quite matter-of-factly, "everything women enjoy. Kissing... rubbing... caressing... touching... and, mmmhhh, thrusting..." With that she had reached Imogene, who stared at the redhead like she was mesmerized, while Kathleen put a finger on the maid's thin lips, and then ran it down her chin, throat and chest, until she reached the strings that held her dress together.

With a quick motion, they came undone, and the white top became loose around her shoulders. Without much effort, Kathleen pulled it under the woman's breasts, which Eliza noticed were about the same size as hers, just a little more flat and with smaller nipples. Her girlfriend cupped them with her hands and began kneading them slowly, all the while still looking deep into Imogene's eyes. "This is one thing we do, it's called 'caressing'," she began to explain the obvious.

Eliza had to wrestle with a sudden onslaught of jealousy as her boss began kissing the brunette, still holding her breasts in her hand. However, her inner turmoil was quickly pushed aside when Kathleen turned around to her and held out her hand, inviting the translator to join them. "Isn't someone going to notice this?" she whispered cautiously when she stood besides her girlfriend, backing the maid against a bookshelf.

Kathleen shrugged. "We're not supposed to be here, and it will probably be denied that this conversation ever took place, so I think we're free to do whatever we like here," she concluded with a knowing look at Imogene. The young woman just nodded and gasped when the redhead pinched one of her nipples. She ran a hand across her head, which made her bonnet come lose and her hair fall free from underneath it, covering her shoulders with wavy, brown locks.

Kathleen took Eliza's hand and pulled her along when she slowly got down on her knees in front of the maid, guiding the fingers of the unsuspecting translator underneath the maid's dress, right down to the centre of her sex. Eliza noticed the warmth, the softness, the fuzzy patch of pubic hair when she found her way into the bloomers, and then the wet, slippery place that made the covert agent gasp when she touched it.

Another woman's vagina, Eliza thought. I am touching another woman's vagina. A stranger's vagina at that. One that my girlfriend helps me explore. She barely knew what to do with all those new impressions that were flooding her mind, and so she didn't even notice how Kathleen had guided her down into Imogene's wet hole until her finger was already all the way up inside her. She could move it freely in and out, not like with her own pussy, where there seemed to be a barrier blocking anything from getting in further than a few inches at most.

Slowly, Kathleen pulled Eliza back out again, guiding her fingers up to her mouth and in between her lips, where the translator licked them carefully, tasting the faint residue of pussy on her tongue. It was strange, very personal, and still very feminine, almost a non-taste that nevertheless made her mouth water. "Mmmh, you like this?" Kathleen asked her teasingly, as if she could see Eliza's thoughts displayed on her face.

The assistant nodded meekly and soon, they shared the taste between them with a kiss, before Kathleen then led her head underneath the black skirt in front of them, pulling down the bloomers and pushing Eliza's face gently, but firmly, into the curly brunette bush of the American. The inexperienced secretary hesitated at first, but then remembered what she had read in Kathleen's stories, and soon began to imitate them. She licked, slowly, across the pubes, her tongue tapping against the labia and clit, where it parted them and slithered deeper inside that wet, warm, soft opening that promised forbidden pleasure with an intoxicating smell.

Before she knew it, she was sucking in Imogene's prominent clit between her teeth, nibbling on it a little while the maid began to pant and squirm above her, spreading her legs wider to give Eliza even deeper access to her lustful centre.

Meanwhile, Kathleen was reaching for a candelabra that stood in the bookshelf and took one of the long, white candles out, sucked on it deep inside her mouth while she tried to get around to the woman's backside. Eliza already foresaw what would happen, while the gasping American was still blissfully unaware, just enjoying the lips and mouth of her lover, her eyes closed and her hair tousled from her thrashing.

When the candle finally entered her anus, she shrieked surprised and clawed into the wooden shelf, trying to keep herself steady while getting worked hard from below. Eliza smiled as she continued to suck on the maid's hairy snatch, feeling her tremble with every push of the candle, as it went further and deeper inside her. And then, something happened, that caught her thoroughly by surprise: Suddenly, at every thrust from Kathleen, a small gush of warm liquid came spurting from the woman's slit and hit Eliza against her mouth.

At first, she froze, too perplexed to figure out what to do with it, while the juices ran down her chin and neck, soaking the top of her dress until she felt them seep down between her breasts. And then, out of a curious impulse, she began to lap at them; carefully at first, but once the strange, spicy taste had filled her mouth, she became ever more eager and excited. Soon, a heavy gush squirted between her lips every time the maid's ass got reamed, and Eliza swallowed greedily. It wasn't so much the taste, as it was really somewhat bland and watery, as it was the source of it, that excited her, the feeling of perversion when drinking from another woman's pussy, as if she was milking her together with her girlfriend, and got to enjoy the spoils of it.

Soon, Imogene wasn't able to stand upright anymore, and leaned heavily on Eliza's shoulders as she slumped, her knees weak, jittering, sinking to the floor. Kathleen continued to prod her asshole while the American lay in Eliza's arms, moaning and gasping heavily against her ear, while splattering on the floorboards from between her legs. She began to kiss Eliza, passionately, hurriedly, sloppily and voraciously, tasting her own pussy on the young woman's lips. The translator felt her tremble in her arms, letting out a muted squeal, when Kathleen finally stopped and grinned up at her assistant, winking at her.

"Well," she said, "now that this is settled, I think I'd like some room service myself." Without hesitation, the author got up and grabbed her girlfriend by the hand, dragging her over to a wide divan, where she laid down, pulling Eliza on top of herself. Before she knew it, the assistant was spread across her boss' chest, her crotch exposed as Kathleen pulled up her skirt and began to run her fingers through her pubes. The top of the author's dress was already undone, and soon Eliza's labia were rubbing across the small, firm, pale breasts of her friend and lover, leaving wet, glittering stains on them.

When she couldn't hold back any longer, Kathleen finally slid further down, until her head was right underneath Eliza's pussy, latching her lips hard onto the young woman's hairy slit and sucking like a leech on her dripping, horny cunt. Eliza groaned loud, startled by surprise, but immediately taken to her girlfriend's unreserved lust and lasciviousness. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the maid as she crawled, on all fours, over to them and towards Eliza's back, possibly to get between the author's legs to repay her for the treatment she enjoyed earlier.

The assistant was lost in bliss, her mind filled with excitement, arousal, lust and longing, the lips and teeth of her lover, munching hard and fast on her soft, sensual slit, sent showers of euphoria and happiness all over her. Love, she thought. This must be what love is. This must be what it does to you, what it is all about: Being happy with one another. And Eliza was happy.

So happy, indeed, that she missed it at first, but after a moment or two, suddenly noticed the sound coming from behind her. It sounded much like the rushing of water, like... like when Kathleen had emptied her bladder on the deck, as they had crossed the Atlantic. Only this time... someone swallowed? It took some time for her to realize that this must be indeed what it was: The maid, swallowing everything that her girlfriend let run freely out of her red snatch, seemingly enjoying it by the sounds she made.

Was this possible? She looked down at Kathleen, whose face was buried in her thick brunette pubes. It seemed... dirty, perverted, but also daring, bold, exciting, and while Eliza still fought with her conflicting emotions, her girlfriend suddenly looked up at her, winking again. Did she know what Eliza was thinking? Did she approve? Was it...

She shuddered. Something came over Eliza, clouded her mind and conscious, made her feel like she was no longer herself, Eliza Lane, the young, inexperienced, shy, drab translator from London, but someone else, someone... colourful, exotic, wild and free. She felt out of time and space, like everything that existed was just this, here and now: Herself, her girlfriend, the feeling of her lips against her muff, Imogene, slurping between her lover's legs, this moment, happening forever.

And then it burst out of her, unstoppable, shooting and squirting straight out from her cunt, down onto her girlfriend's face, filling her mouth up to the brim and then spraying across her hair, running down her throat as she gargled and swallowed. Eliza came, gushed, sputtered and pissed right down at her.

A warm, glorious feeling, came over her, wrapping her into its arms, making her feel safe, soft, snug and secure, as she drifted off into a calm, relaxed slumber.