Cathy And Company

Catherine Botha and Amanda Shott. How odd and strange this world is, how peculiar it is sometimes, how mixed up and crazy it gets.

I’m still struggling with myself, battling with my urges, hovering between loyalty to Derek and loyalty to myself. After Andrea the RAU student, Elaine the lesbian from hell, Clyde and Margi from Adam123 and Dennis the restaurant quickie wizard I decided to lay low for a while, take my foot off the accelerator to gather my wits about me. Derek and I even took time off to go down to Mosselbaai, to get away for a while. It didn’t help. I bumped, literally and repeatedly, into Dennis there but that’s another story altogether.

I was surfing through the Gynaedoc site the other day, looking to see if there was an article or reader question relating to tender nipples (mine had been feeling too sensitive for a few days – this has since mysteriously cleared up) when I came across a reader question about what an orgasm feels like. Dear heaven, were there still women out there that didn’t know what they were missing? Anyway, with my tongue partly in my cheek (if you know what I mean) I supplied an answer. In fact, I got so involved in it that I aroused myself and had to go the ladies for a quick stroke and rub. Delicious. Talk about taking your own advice!

Imagine my surprise and delight when I started a mini-correspondence with Sandi about female sexuality in general, and, later, about my stories in particular. Sadly, I haven’t heard from her in while – she simply stopped writing and disappeared. Any way, before she went silent she referred another correspondent to me – Cathy – who read the little exchange between us on the Gynaedoc site and asked to join the fray, so to speak.

I was a little wary at first, you know how it is, strangers rocking up and all that, but after a few exchanges I warmed to her quite nicely. Quick and sharp, bright like a needle, she turned out to be amusing and entertaining. Open-minded too, not at all difficult to talk to. Well, after some talking and e-mailing, we arranged to meet at Guido’s, a pretentious little Italian pub (can you imagine?) that was filled with Italian flags and pictures of Ferraris. It also has artificial bunches of grapes and empty bottles of wine hanging of the wall. Yech! The owner is a greasy little shit who thinks he is God’s gift to women but its saving grace is, despite all the kitsch, a happy, comfy vibe. Anyway, being the expert now, I rocked up early (always good because you can never tell) and waited in a corner where I could see who came in. Cathy said she would be wearing a white pants suit with black braiding. Guido, grease-ball supreme, sauntered over and tried to seduce me (again – the shit has a short memory) with what he thinks is a sultry, smouldering and irresistible look. If only he knew that he looks like a dimwit trying to remember his own name. I gave him my withering ice-queen glare and locked eyes with him. He spat an imaginary match out of the corner of his mouth and slunk off, to perch again on the corner of the bar where he surveyed his kingdom.

I sipped my wine (the house brand is pretty good) and watched. Abba, nauseating as ever, were wailing money, money, money in the background. Punctual as an accountant (which she is) Cathy arrived on time. She stood at the door, wide-eyed and looking around for me. I waved to her and smiled brightly and she came over. I made a rapid assessment: she was a pretty blond and had a lovely figure. Size 32 was my guess and she probably weighed 51 or 52 Kgs. Nice boobs, high and proud, full cups, decent cleavage. Not bad, I though, very nice actually. Lovely wide smile, innocent and yet not naïve. Her hair was shiny clean, parted in the middle and resting on her shoulders. Nice, long neck, which made her look really cool. She showed her neck off perfectly; she wore a simple rope of pearls. Understated and elegant.

“So,” I said, as she sat down, “we meet.”

“Yes, Aimee, I’m so thrilled to meet you - I couldn’t wait.” She looked around. “I can’t believe I’m here with you.” This puzzled me. She talked as if I were a celebrity or something.

“Its no big thing: I’m here, you’re here and we’re Greasy Guido’s pub.” I smiled at her. “Nothing special about that.”

“Oh no,” she replied, “It is big deal: I admire you so much!” And that typified Cathy – she was open and honest. She said what was on her mind. As we talked it turned out that my stories had made a big impact on her. I couldn’t decide if it was the actual experience or the way the story was told. Didn’t matter, though, because as far Cathy was concerned I was someone important. Imagine that. Hah! Fame at last! But seriously, I enjoyed chatting to her and we exchanged some personal details. I found her to be very intelligent and she confessed to being a closet gay. In fact, she wasn’t at all sure if she was bi or gay. She found the Andrea story to be a revelation of some sort and it made her question and examine her own sexuality.

I was pleased with this. Okay, I know it sounds bigheaded and all that, but, really, if my experiences were beneficial then, I mean, I liked that. You know? I felt comfortable with her and decided that I would involve her with Amanda. So, on the spur of the moment, I sprang it on her.

“Would you like to go out with me on Wednesday night?” I watched her. This was the nitty-gritty, the rub, the acid test.

“Wednesday? Sure, sounds good. I mean, I’d like to.” Here eyes were sparkling, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Don’t you want to know where to?” I was amused at her ready acceptance.

“Of course, sure, yes – where to?” We both laughed at the realization that she had answered too readily.

“Surprise. Do you like surprises?” I was playing a little game, I know and maybe it was a little cruel. I mean, here she was, all star-struck and so on, and I was leading her on.

“I don’t know – never had enough to be sure. But I trust you Aimee – it’s that simple. I feel safe with you and I like being with you.”

“Thank you,” I said, liking her even more because she said such a nice thing. “Dress is smart casual. Can you sleep over my place? It may end a bit late and it’s not safe to drive around alone.”

“Yes, I can. No problem.” We chatted a little more and then called it an evening. When we left we walked to our cars together and I held her hand briefly, giving it a soft squeeze. She tilted her face, almost as if she expected me to kiss her. I decided not to; I wasn’t sure about her agenda. Anyway, we still had Wednesday to get through.

I drove home thinking about her, unable to decide. Unbeknownst to her (I like that word, sorry if it sounds old-fashioned) I already had plans with Amanda. Amanda has to be one of the more beautiful women I have ever met. She looks like Demi Moore; silky black hair, square jaw line and aquamarine blue eyes. She has a single dimple. Straight jet-black eyebrows and an arresting gaze. Great body, sexy, full breasted. She works for one of my clients. I met her last week in a meeting. She is the senior P.R.O. there and had to sign off a sale I had made. From the moment she walked into the meeting I was unable to take my eyes off her (I wasn’t the only one – everybody was struck with her statuesque beauty).

During the meeting I caught her looking at me too and I couldn’t decide if this was a moment when two women were flirting with each other. I felt stupid at not knowing if we were experiencing the same thing. The next time I caught her looking at me I smiled brightly at her (I hope I didn’t look like Guido) and she winked back. That settled it: she was gay and she was hitting on me. Yeah Aimee, babe magnet!

Seriously though, after the contract was signed she asked me to stay a while to discuss a “technical” issue. Yeah right, I knew that she was going to take it a stage further. When everyone had left, I fiddled with some papers while she watched me silently.

“Ok,” I said, sounding a lot calmer than I was feeling, “what technical matter?”

She chuckled. “Excuse me if I embarrass you with this question: would you like to go out sometime? With me? To a gay club?” Her voice was level; her blue-blue eyes drilling holes into mine.

“And excuse me if I answer equally honestly; are you making a pass at me?”

“Of course I am – what else?” There was a hint of laughter below all this; a devilish little smile was dancing around her lone dimple.

“I have to know: what makes you think I’m gay?” I mean, really, how did she know? I had wondered the same thing with Andrea.

“Quite simple really – it’s the way you were looking at me. Most women hate me on site but you looked at me as if you liked me. Do you?” Andrea had answered more-or-less the same. I’ve got to be careful. I mean I can’t go around openly letching at other woman, can I?

“Yes – you are quite striking. Okay, I will. What club?” I had no idea that there were gay clubs.

“Private place, someone’s house really that’s being converted to a club. Exclusive. No riff-raff, no drugs, no bullshit, no men. If you have a partner, bring her along. Do you? Have a partner?” I decided that if she was going to think I’m gay, I was not going to let her think I was loser by being a single gay. One has to keep up appearances, after all, gay or not.

“I’ll think about – perhaps, perhaps not.” Slippery Aimee, cool and in control.

Amanda smiled and stuck her hand out. We shook gently, lingeringly. “I’ve got your card and I’ll call you with details.” Not so fast, huh-huh, I want to be in control.

“How about I call you? I move around a lot.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Sure, whatever – talk to you soon.”

I was in a bit of a tizz driving back to the office. What do I do? Easy: go for it! All my life nobody had ever taken any notice of me. These days, every Dick (sorry), Tom and Sally wanted to screw me. Yippee! I was feeling really chuffed. I enjoyed the feeling of sexiness that surrounded me these days. Maybe it was scent or a vibe I gave off but everywhere I went, sex was sure to follow. I sang along to the Dramatics in my car, the romance real, the feeling, and the sense of Amanda hovering over me.

I called her mid-morning on Monday. It was a cooler conversation, nothing heavy. She gave me the address, told me again that it was up-market and said the best time to get there was about 9:30 or so. Wednesday was great because Thursday was a public holiday. The buzz we had last week felt absent, distant and I suddenly had doubts.

This is why I decided to take Cathy with me. Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds like I was using her but this way everyone would score, in a manner of speaking.

So the next day, Wednesday, Cathy and I exchanged e-mails, confirming our arrangement. She was really growing on me, was Cathy, and I looked forward to our evening. I wasn’t sure about how she would re-act to the gay club place (hell, I wasn’t even sure myself) and I thought we could have a drink and then go for a massage. The massage thing was a gift from Derek; one of his friends had been there and told him about it. Good place – sensual massage, sexy even, and I enjoyed it.

When we met that night – at Guido’s again - she looked so sexy in a short black dress. She had nice legs, shapely, and they were longer than I thought. She wore her hair up with a little cameo broach and that told me she knew how to exploit her strong points.

There was an air of intimacy between us as we sipped our drinks and chatted. Her eyes were sparkling and she looked at me adoringly, hung on to every word I said. This was novel to me and I enjoyed it. Strange, with all her defenses down and being vulnerable, it made me like her all the more and I felt protective towards her.

At one stage I let my hand rest on her thigh. A bright scarlet blush mantled her cheeks and her lips parted. Arousal stage 1. Brilliant. I squeezed gently, caressed her leg and felt the alien feel of stockings. She uncrossed her legs and parted them slightly, leaning forward towards me. I left my hand there, airily talking about my boss, and let my fingers trail along the inside of her thigh.

She was breathing in shallow, quick little gasps, oblivious to the crowd around us. Truth be told, they were ignoring us and I felt like an exhibitionist, showing off my new main squeeze.

We finished our drinks and I told we should leave.

“Is this the surprise?” Her eyes were shining, her pupils dilated.

“Yep – one of them. You up for this?” I enjoyed the wide-eyed innocence, the trust she showed.

“Oh yes, very yes!”

We left the pub, holding hands. This drew some attention but it did not bother me at all. Cathy was too wrapped in the little bubble that surrounded us to notice. She had had three glasses of wine to my two and I could see that she was feeling extremely pleased with life.

“Follow me home – I live around the corner. We’ll leave your car there and go in mine.”

She nodded and leapt into her car, a new Peugeot 206 cc. Neat little car and she somehow she looked rich behind the wheel. An accountant with zip.

After she had pulled her car into my driveway, I watched her walk to my car. She looked even sexier as she fixed her hair. When got in I leaned over and kissed her, wetly and softly. She opened her mouth and I slid my tongue in and explored her gently. Her mouth was hot and she kissed me back ardently. I cupped her full breast and squeezed her tit. It was soft and yielding and I could feel the nipple harden instantly. She moaned softly. “Yes, oh yes”, mouthing the words in my mouth.

I pulled away from her, feeling the heat build between my legs, damp heat. “Later, more of that later. Smoke?”

“I haven’t smoked since ‘varsity but, what the hell!” That’s my girl – let your hair down, tonight promises to be wild ride. She lit one for each of us and we smoked in silence, companionable silence.

I drove swiftly to Fourways, to the “The House of Seven Pleasures”. Neat names the Orientals have for their establishments. Seven Pleasures? I liked the sound of that, not at all sure what they were.

As we pulled in tot the parking lot and faced the pagoda-shaped building I could see that Cathy had an expression of expectation. Controlled excitement simmered beneath the surface.

“We are here and you are going to have the massage of your life!” I said.

“A massage? I thought this was a restaurant.”

“It is, as well, I think but we can eat later if you are hungry.”

The place was decorated as you would expect: ethereal paintings of floating pagodas, bamboo sheets depicting Chinese symbols and, of course, that almost discordant sound of Oriental music. It was beautiful.

Madame Ling – such a cliché don’t you think? – was a small, precise kind of woman. She showed us into the recesses, leading us behind ornate screens and pot plants.

“Double or single?” she asked softly. Cathy looked at me, not understanding.

“Oh double,” I said, “Definitely double.” I smiled at Cathy

“Male of female” Her voice was a whisper, escaping from her bobbing head.

“Female.” Cathy raised her eyebrows. I winked. “Please, this way. Changing room at the back. Gowns on hook.” She motioned to a dark wall.

We were in the double room; two massage tables in the center. I led Cathy to the changing rooms and she whispered to me.

“This is great! What happens next?”

“No need to whisper, girl and, yes, this is great. Get undressed and put that gown on.”

She seemed a little hesitant at undressing in front of me so I led the way. As I took my clothes off I folded them neatly and hung them on hangers. I did this slowly, without watching her. From the rustling sounds I knew that she was undressing too and I contained my eagerness because I wanted to look at her.

As I was slipping the silk gown on – it was a thing of beauty, dark red with golden dragons twisting around it – I turned to look at her. She was placing her shoes together and, as she bent over, I could see her perky little bum with her pussy lips sticking out. Instantly I felt a charge ignite between my legs and I knew that I was getting wet. She stood up and looked at me. Wordlessly she came to me and we hugged and kissed again. We were in a deep clench and I felt her back and bum, rubbing and squeezing. I liked the feel of her skin, the hard nipples pressing into my tits. She bent her head and sucked my tit, softly, teasing me. I slipped my hand in between her legs – she was unshaven but neat – and felt her clit. She was wet too and I rubbed her clit. She arched her back.

“Oh God that feels good – yes finger me.” In the meanwhile she had placed her hand on my cunt too and was feeling my slippery puss juice, running her fingers between my lips. I thrust on to her fingers, rocking them, feeling my clit grow to the size of a small grape. She had small inner lips, like mine, but her outer lips were fat and plump. Not quite like Andrea’s but they were fat. I rubbed her puss with the flat of my hand, kissing her and sucking her tongue. She was moaning softly.

I pushed her away gently. Her eyes were bright and shiny.

‘Whoa! Slowly tiger, lets slow down here.”

“Oh Aimee, since I read your stories I have been dreaming about this – please don’t stop now.”

“Later, sweetie, later – we have time. Lets go back inside now. They must be waiting.” She nodded, looking disappointed. I took some tissues from my bag and gave her some. “I think we need to pat ourselves dry here.” She smiled.

“God, I’m so horny and so wet.” We stood there for a moment, drying our wet pussies.

Sure enough they were waiting: two Chinese girls were standing patiently at the beds, hands folded demurely in front of them and their heads down. As we approached the tables they both bobbed in unison.

My girl spoke first. “My name is Su-Chan. Pleased to meet you.” She had a sweet smile. The other one said, “Hello, please my name is Ana.” There was a small tray with small little ornate cups on it. It was Sake, I knew, and I knocked it back swiftly, feeling it burn like fire as it slid down my throat. Cathy did the same, wincing as she felt it bite.

The old woman appeared magically. “What massage you want?” she whispered, almost apologetically. We were both lying down now, on our tummies, facing each other. “What’s on offer?” I replied.

“You can have Relaxing, very good, or you have Sensual, very stimulating. What one please?”

“Sensual.” I winked at Cathy. She winked back. “And pelvic? Can we have pelvic too?”

“Yes,” She sighed sadly. “That is our Full Sensual one.” She nodded to the two girls and floated off.

I closed my eyes. The scent of sandalwood filled the air and I felt Su-Chan gently spreading some oil on my back. Her fingers were firm and light at the same time. I listened to soft music, twanging and musical and I gave myself up to the expertise of Su-Chan.

She worked every muscle, gently, lovingly and I could feel a warm glow spread throughout my body. I could smell different scents now, strange and pleasant. When I glanced up at her she smiled sweetly at me through the straight hair that hung over her face. She moved up and down my back, skipped passed my bum and went on to my thighs. Whatever it was she was pouring on me felt pleasantly hot and made my skin tingle. She parted my legs slightly and I complied, letting her have her way with me. I glanced over to Cathy. Her eyes were tightly shut and her cheeks were flushed. Good, I thought, enjoy it sweetie – this is only the beginning. Su-Chan was rubbing my calves now and I began to feel totally relaxed. She moved on to my feet and she rubbed each toe between her thumb and index finger. The she moved up my legs again and this time she poured some oil on my bum and kneaded my cheeks briefly, lightly. I felt aroused, tingling all over, hot. She worked my back again, using the heel of her palm.

“Please, to turn over now?” She said sweetly, a cute smile on her face. I rolled over. Ana was still busy with Cathy’s feet. I looked down on my body. It looked good because after that thing with Clyde I had joined a gym, personal trainer and all, and I was in good shape. Clyde had told me that me that I looked good but I knew that could look better so I went to the gym. Voila and presto – Gawie had made me work and the results showed. I was toned, in shape and I was proud of myself. My tits looked 34, damn, but gym wouldn’t fix that. I briefly wondered if I would have cosmetic surgery one day but I let that thought slip away. Time enough for that later and, anyway, my tits weren’t that bad.