Janine's hands were shaking as she punched the keypad of the elevator next to the "Penthouse" button. She had been asked to come up to Deidre's penthouse by an invitation sent through Marjorie, just as the costume party was winding down. It was a shock to her when Marjorie said she would not be coming along. Her new and dodgy European friend then disappeared. Knowing that Marjorie and Deidre often shared a bed, she had assumed that a lesbian threesome was in the making and that Marjorie would help her satisfy the older woman's legendary appetite for men and women. Now, the nervous would-be gonzo journalist would have to join the awesomely beautiful icon of extreme femininity in bed for the first time alone! Could she ever meet the expectations of the voraciously sexual Deidre by herself?
Janine was so nervous that couldn't remember the code Marjorie gave her. Oh yes, she thought. It was 6942. She punched it in and the elevator rose, past the floor with the activity rooms and theater. A breeze from the air movement tickled her bare thighs and reminded her that she was naked. The elevator whooshed past the regular guest rooms, past the fourth floor (beloved of the gay guests), past the premium guest rooms, and finally stopping at the penthouse level.
Janine's best feature was her tits and they were very nice, C-cup with huge pink areolas around the nipples. But she was a smaller woman and her boobs were nothing compared to Deidre's perfect mammary globes or Marjorie's ripe hanging fruit. She knew that Marjorie was almost a sexual match for Deidre but Janine could never keep up – they were out of her league! She wished she were not left to face Deidre alone. She wished Marjorie had come with her and not left her alone. She was scared!
Suddenly, Janine was very conscious of her body paint. She had spent the last four hours standing around, dancing, and drinking with big female reproductive organs painted on the pale skin of her abdomen, not thinking twice about it except as a joke. Now, about to face the awesome and publicly bisexual Deidre, Janine felt more naked than her nudity, as if those pink ovaries painted under her ribs were actually hers and Deidre would be able to see right inside her and judge her inadequate.
Deidre herself had disappeared from the costume party about a half hour before. Probably to prepare for Janine, Janine thought. Why did Deidre want to see her privately? Was this simply about influencing Janine's story or was Deidre actually attracted to her? Why was she hot for Janine, when she could have her pick of any man or woman at Iznoma Hedonia? What sexual acts would Deidre desire from her? Did Deidre want to do something involving Janine's tits? Would Janine experience pleasure or would Deidre take what she wanted and leave Janine wanting and desperate? Would she turn into a full-time lesbian after experiencing love with Deidre? Janine had no idea and was frightened to her core, but still she was inexorably drawn to the fantasy of submitting to Deidre's sexual desire and releasing her own inhibitions by surrendering her will to the powerful, seductive, dominating, and more beautiful older woman.
Janine stepped out into a roofed colonnade, a long space between the elevator door and the entrance to the penthouse in front of her, open to the fresh, cooling sea air and with views of the ocean on one side and the town on the other. The bronze-colored columns tapered from the bottom to the top, like the shapely thighs of a woman lying on her back. There was a wooden bench, in case anyone had to be kept waiting, and some flowers in big clay pots. Tall Island traditional carvings, made from palm tree trunks, were mounted on brass brackets to the columns, made for a sort of outdoor art gallery to liven up the space. Janine glanced at the carvings as she passed, then did a double take and took a better look. The carvings obviously represented penises, with finely detailed copulating couples incised on the sides. Janine looked for lesbians among the figures on the carvings and didn't find any.
The door to the penthouse was set in an entrance that looked like a boat, coming to a point at the top. The colored light fixture hung above the door looked like a pink pearl. The double doors were wide and covered with brown leather. Janine knew what it was designed to look like – the entrance to a woman.
Janine approached the doorbell with sweaty palms. Janine noticed that the doorbell was a brown, round knob sitting on a rounded ceramic base the same shape as her own boobs but the same bronze color as the columns. Janine touched it gingerly and then pushed it and waited. Her mind wandered.
Deidre was the most sexually alluring woman on the planet, a pornstar of global acclaim as well as a really astute businesswoman – the brains behind Iznoma Hedonia. Janine was just a young journalist with pale white skin, now beginning to tan a bit, a big rack with oversize pink areolas on her tits, apple-shaped ass, and a curvy body, who had been lucky enough to be assigned to write the story. Which she had already decided would not be a traditional personality profile or even an ironic travel piece on the libertine resort – no, she would write in a new style. Her magazine, Against Moss, had been famous for "gonzo journalism" in the 1970's – well, now it was 1985 and Janine was going to take it in a new direction – gonzo pornography! Her story was going to be a stream of consciousness, subjective, barely coherent rambling account of how she, herself, felt subjectively while she was getting ogled, seduced, felt up, fondled, fingered, shtupped, diddled, cornholed, and passed around the last several days. It was first-person journalism, eye witness to the "I" witness's feelings about the events that surrounding her and caught her up, free from the constraints of fact and narrative and liberated to follow....well, she wasn't sure exactly what but it sure sounded good. She'd work on the details, she thought, but that was how she would explain it someday to the hordes of journalism students who would come knocking at her door after she became famous as the inventor of "gonzo porn".
But that confidence-building thought rapidly evaporated as her mind came back to the present moment. She had to confront the reality that there was no turning back. She had already pushed the doorbell. She was delivering herself up to the queen of sensual desire, to do with her – and to her – what the queen willed. She was submitting her body and her anxious mind to the experience, to abandon herself to rampant lust and to feel it coursing deep in her body, all the better to write about it later. She was a dedicated journalist.
The door opened and a maid who was dressed in a staff uniform greeted Janine. She spoke with a mixed accent of Spanish and British and a casual "avast!", reflecting the heritage of the Islands and its infamous pirates. The maid asked politely if Janine was Janine and on being reassured that she was led the nervous journalist through the elegant entrance hall of the penthouse, with huge flowers on display in a big open vase on a marble pedestal, and into a side room. The maid smiled but did not comment on Janine's outrageous body art. Janine could only think that she had seen it all and was simply escorting another lamb to her slaughter.
Passing through the entrance hall, Janine caught a glimpse of an elegant formal dining room to the right but the maid led her to the left, through what seemed to be a formal, British colonial-style sitting room into a smaller room in the back with huge louvered windows open toward the ocean, with a spectacular view of the mountain to the south (called "Mount Deidre" because of its rounded shape, protuberance on top, and slope on one side).
The lights in this room were turned down but the glow from the resort below and the brightness of the moon made it easy to see. The deep salmon-pink color of the walls gave her a warm feeling of being enclosed, or even inside something organic and natural. It was a strong feeling and she knew perfectly well what it was meant to represent.
The penthouse was a tropical dream. It looked like a Caribbean villa on the beach, not a penthouse on top of a hotel. There were flowers everywhere. There was a sofa, where the maid had indicated she was to be seated, facing two loveseats, all upholstered in very soft leather and stacked with plush, yielding throw pillows. In the middle was a very large, low Oriental-style brass table – or possibly set of brass tables pushed together. Janine couldn't tell which because it was mostly covered with a deep-pile, oriental carpet, exquisite with pink flower designs with red centers against a bronze-ochre colored background. The table formed a platform large enough for two women to lie on.
There were other furnishings, some of which seemed to have uses that were not obvious. Against one wall was a padded bench and a solid-looking chair with a padded seat and back that was set back at an angle, with no arms but with peculiar straps on each of the two front stair legs, at just the right place for a foothold. Janine stared at it, wondering what it used for. There were sturdy-looking hooks and rings mounted in the ceiling and Janine wondered what was hung on them. On one wall was a display case for a collection of dildos, at least a hundred of them, of all various sizes and styles.
