Candice And Ashley

The bar was three blocks away, easy enough to walk to. She took a seat on a stool in the middle of a long stretch of mahogany and ordered two shots of tequila -- it took the edge off. She scanned the scene; there were two college guys talking sports -- that didn't interest her. A businessman sat in a booth reading the Wall Street Journal... well-dressed, handsome, probably worked in investments -- not tonight. Another well-dressed man in his fifties; this one was hitting on a twenty year old girl -- not tonight, not ever. She got the attention of the bartender and pointed to the beers on tap. She sipped slowly and continued searching. It wasn't looking good -- maybe tonight wasn't her night.

Candice spotted herself in the mirror reflecting the liquor bottles. She wasn't wearing her college professor eyeglasses. Her dark eye makeup and spiky hair went well with her small tight black dress. A few hours ago she painted her nails black. Her only jewelry was a small pendant of two interlocking sterling silver Venus symbols. She smiled wryly.

Candice crossed her legs and swiveled in her chair. Two women in their mid-thirties sat at a table along the wall and were deeply engrossed in one another -- occasionally touching, nodding often and smiling broadly; completely enamored. Both women wore wedding bands; most likely their husbands didn't know where they went after yoga class. Candice slowly shook her head from side to side and pushed out her lower lip; there probably wasn't room for a third wheel,

damn

.

By 10:30, the atmosphere had changed -- it wasn't the soft sounds of Michael Bublé -- it was Lady Gaga and Rihanna pulsing through the air. Candice drained her beer and joined the crowd on the dance floor. Although she had never had the traditional college girl experience, like a chameleon, she could blend in anywhere.

Candice had graduated high school when she was 16; earned a bachelor's degree when she was 19 and had a PhD in Clinical Psychology at 22. She studied psychology because she wanted to understand herself. Her PhD thesis was a study of prodigious but troubled children -- it was mostly autobiographical; she was identified as highly gifted in the second grade and labeled a malicious deviant in the sixth grade.

It wasn't difficult to figure out why; her birth name was Candy -- she legally changed it to Candice when she turned 18. She was born in Las Vegas, her mother was an exotic dancer, and she never knew her father. She never knew him because her mother had no idea who he was. He must've been a genius because her mother never amounted to anything -- she died of a heroin overdose in 2009.

Candice could read when she was three years old, was doing calculus in junior high school and was smoking cigarettes and getting high at thirteen -- the life of a stripper's daughter wasn't easy. Early on she learned to keep her extraordinary talents hidden from others; it was bad enough that she stood out because of her mismatched clothing -- she didn't want to be the pet project of a socially liberal do-gooder who wanted to save a disadvantaged smart girl whose mother was a hooker. Maybe that's why she still had a bad girl streak; the rebel never died.

The pulsating, sweaty crowd snapped Candice back to the present. The kinetic energy that surged through the thick throng was invigorating. Within minutes she was completely re-immersed, again totally lost in the moment, entirely consumed with exhilaration.

She didn't realize it until the girl smiled, but Candice had been dancing exclusively with her for the last twenty minutes. She returned the smile, continued shaking her hips and dancing provocatively. Candice inched closer -- occasionally grinding on the girl's long legs.

Over the noise of the crowd, the girl leaned in and said, "Hi, I'm Ashley."

Candice spun around, wiggled her ass and bent down to the floor like she was waiting to be mounted. She pushed her hips back and forth, imitating the dirty deed. She spun back around and put her arms around the girl's neck, kissed her like a long-lost lover and said, "Hi Ashley."

Ashley didn't flinch, and for a brief moment, tightly held Candice. She playfully grabbed her ass and smiled lasciviously. Two years ago, Ashley would've never behaved like this. She was formally the archetypal good girl -- Catholic high school cheerleader, had never smoked or drank, and was a virgin until her senior year. But over the last two years at college, she had evolved into an open-minded woman, someone who was ready to experience the real world.

They continued bouncing and gyrating wildly. Ashley's low-cut dress didn't restrain her bouncing tits; Candice couldn't wait to get her hands on them. The Katy Perry anthem was the perfect segue -- they grabbed each other and made out like Britney Spears and Madonna at the music video awards.

The song ended and another one began. Candice was intoxicated on liquor and longing -- she shouted, "I need to pee." She grabbed Ashley's hand and tugged her off the parquet.

The ladies room wasn't private, but that didn't discourage them. The confined space intensified the smell of sweat, tequila, perfume, and desire. Candice hopped on the sink vanity and spread her legs. Ashley rushed in and kissed her neck and shoulders. They groped and fondled, their tongues were in each other's mouths. Candice buried her face in Ashley's breasts, peeled down her dress and sucked her peaked nipples. Candice pushed Ashley backwards, not to discourage her but to direct her to the open stall behind them.

Candice crashed on the toilet and hastily removed her soaking panties. She flung them at Ashley -- she deeply inhaled and ran her tongue over the crotch and completely licked the candy out of the cotton. Her gorgeous blue eyes and full lips dripped with desperation, her craving could only be satisfied with the real thing.

Candice lifted her dress above her hips and seductively pushed her knees apart. Ashley didn't need encouragement. She removed her own panties and dropped them to the floor to use as kneepads.

"I can't wait to taste you," said Ashley desperately. She dove in and swirled her tongue around her new friend's swollen but delicate petals. She flicked her tongue in and out and pushed Candice's knees further apart. Ashley's middle finger effortlessly glided into Candice.

Candice's breathing was ragged, like she just sprinted 100 meters. She grabbed a handful of Ashley's long blonde hair and pushed her hips upward. "Ooh... yeah... like that..."

Ashley briefly looked up -- her lips and cheeks shimmered. She flicked her tongue and circled Candice's clit and then sucked her like a Hoover would. She slowly licked from bottom to top with a flat tongue, the way a kid eats an ice cream cone. She methodically double fingered until Candice surrendered.

The small crowd of girls that had gathered whooped and cheered. A short pudgy girl with giant tits had her hands down her pants. The smell of musky sin was like an aphrodisiac; two girls with long straight black hair French kissed passionately. An orgy was about to break out when Candice stood, straightened her dress, smiled, and sauntered to the mirror to fix her smudged makeup and lipstick.

"Ashley, let's get out of here," smiled Candice. "My hotel room is a few blocks away."

Ashley was doe-eyed like Christmas had just come; she turned to her friends and said, "I'll meet you in the dining hall for breakfast."

They exited the ladies room holding hands, the way they had entered; the only difference: now they weren't wearing panties. Hopefully one of Ashley's friends would deposit them in her dorm room.