this is my first solo attempt at writing for submission.
An arm went around my shoulder and I heard the loud words, "Hi, beautiful.", in my ear. Startled, I looked not to my left to see who it was, but rather across the little round laminated table at my friend, Sandra, whose face looked like she had just seen a spider running across my forehead. Sandra is also my business partner, and former lover.
Successful 40-somethings, neither of us had been married, and quite well integrated into the lesbian community of our mid-sized city. We own a small interior decorating business, I am more talented there, and she more talented in obtaining clientele. I often spend 12 hours each day in the shop or clients' homes, while she is nearly constantly on the move.
When we were younger we had decided only femme or even ultra femme women appealed. We are not snobs, neither of us, though I have heard soto voce murmurs of 'snooty bitch' when declining offers to dance or for a drink from some, for lack of a better word, 'masculine' appearing woman. So when she looked so sour, I just knew who was at my side.
I had car trouble a week before, as my schedule is so hectic, I called the dealer, and they said someone could take me back to my store if I could drop it off in the morning. It pays to drive a Lexus. While making the arrangements for whatever needed to be done, I heard a call over the intercom, "Harry, come to the service counter." The dirty hands on the counter did not make an impression, but when I heard the voice, I turned to notice the stitched name was Harri. "Yes, sir?" a much softer voice than I expected asked.
Bob, the service manager, said, "Harri, this is Miss Bowers. She will give you the address of her shop. And, I think I know what is wrong, so wait there for a call, you may be bringing her back soon." It also pays to wear short skirts and silk blouses when dealing with tradesmen.
Harri wore the usual service person's uniform, but I noticed, her hands were only superficially dirty, nicely trimmed fingernails, and her hair was actually long, looped in braids pinned to the sides and tucked under the ubiquitous cap. She scooped up a set of keys to a car from the desk and turned to me and said, "Hello, Ms Bowers. I'll take good care of you." She had a hint of a crooked smile as she said that. I noticed what I thought was a look of recognition. When I saw the name stitched over her left breast, I also noticed she appeared to be extremely flat chested, abnormally so for someone with her obvious feminine hips. Rather than bra straps, or nothing, under her shirt, I thought I saw a binding, from her underarms to just above her diaphragm. No makeup, that would be absurd in her job, but the lack of even lipstick confirmed my impression in my mind. She held the door of the sedan open for me and lingered a but too long as I settled into the contoured leather seat. Harri sat in the driver's seat, and I consciously pulled my skirt down over my knees, no sense making it appear I was in any way trying to attract her attention..
I gave the address to my store, and she immediately started to drive with abandon. I told Harri there is a private space reserved for me in the rear and she seemed to know exactly how to approach the rear of the strip mall. Sandra's car was in her space. Harri opened my door for me and bowed as she said, "I hope the ride was comfortable, Ms Bowers." I suddenly realized we had not spoken since I gave her the address until I mentioned the private space. Swinging my legs out of the car, I felt my skirt ride up, and Harry's eyes on my knees. She let out a low whistle, and murmured something I could not hear.
I told her there was a small coffee shop just next door, and she was welcome to wait there until Bob called. "No, Ma'am. I should probably wait in your place for the call." I was somehow disturbed, but also somewhat attracted to her raw manner. I have never, ever, felt this way with so rough a woman, and as we went through the rear door, I could hear Sandra audibly gasp. She looked Harri up and down, sniffed and grabbed her portfolio.
Looking at me as if to ask, "Where in the world did you lose your mind?" she swept out the back door.
I had to laugh at that, certain she saw the dealer car with the magnetic sign prominent on the side as she drove off.
Just then the telephone rang and I answered, "Designs by Les Femmes, Claudia Bowers speaking." It was a client who expected her decorating designs in one hour, I tried to explain I had no car, but she insisted. Just then Harri caught my attention and I asked if I could put her on hold for a moment. Harri told me she would be happy to chauffeur me if my car was not ready soon. I agreed and informed the client I would be on time.
Harri flipped open her cell phone and called Bob to say there was an emergency and that she would not wait, but had to use the car to help me. After disconnecting she informed me that the problem was more complex than thought and I would be stuck with her all day. Somehow this did not disturb me as much I thought it might. I caught myself looking at her hips in her tight uniform pants, and at her thin unpainted lips. The odd outline under her shirt seemed to hold her breasts, and I found myself wondering just what they might look like. Shaking my head, I spent 30 minutes gathering the swatches, drawings, and other items for the client. I had given Harri the address and she simply nodded to acknowledge she knew where it was.
I felt her eyes follow me as I moved. We placed everything in the car and as I bent to place the display easel in the trunk I felt her hand on my hip. I paused, and leant into her hand, I did not say anything, but simply finished what I was doing and waited for her to close the lid of the trunk. She hurried to open my door and settle me in my seat, she lifted my skirt onto my thigh, and again, her touch was more thrilling than annoying.
As we drove the ten miles to the client's upscale home, she startled me by asking, "Ms Bowers, have you ever been in prison?"
At a complete loss, I replied, "No, never. Have you?"
She chuckled and told me that she had spent 30 days in the county jail for disorderly conduct, and had resolved to never go back. It was a fight over another girl, she said. I am not sure if she wanted to shock me, or simply inform me that she knew something about me I do not keep secret. Nevertheless, I turned to watch her as she drove skillfully, and for some reason hiked my skirt up higher. I was becoming more attracted, and the bad girl image had never been something I cared for in the past. This young woman was exciting me beyond my wildest imaginations. We talked freely now, I learned she was actually 25 years old, she looked younger, even without makeup.
The day passed easily, and I felt a bit bad to ask her to stay with the car as I went about my appointments, but she seemed self contained. She even stopped at a fast food place for lunch while I was in my second appointment, so we did not have to stop. I offered to pay, but she would not accept even my share. Even though she is much younger, she seemed to take charge, and I became a bit more dependent. During lunch in the car I felt her hand on my thigh, squeezing, her words were a blur, but I felt a sexual arousal.
Just then her cellphone rang, a jarring 'chirp-chirp'. She handed me the instrument and the spell was broken.
It was Bob, my car was ready, and he wanted to know if we were nearby to exchange autos. It was actually inconvenient, so I told him that I would prefer picking it up at the end of the day, that I would be happy to pay Harri for her time.
We finished my appointments earlier than expected, and returned to the store. Unloading the trunk, I felt her actively running her hands over my bottom. I pressed back to her and felt an unfamiliar 'something' under her pants. Realizing what it was I quickly took the easel and she gathered the rest of my display items.
I could not believe my response when we had finished unloading and taken everything into the store. She took me in her arms and kissed me vigorously, a little shorter than she, I lifted my lips and ran my arms around her back, feeling the unmistakable outline of her 'boi' against my thigh. She ground against me, her lips open, her tongue probing knowingly. A groan escaped my lips as she slid her tongue over my palate, the softer underside of her tongue gliding over the raised buds of mine. Her hand slid easily under my skirt and her fingers ran over the silky feeling pantyhose. She cupped my mound, sending a shiver throughout my body. My nipples crinkled under the silk of my blouse and the soft cups of my bra. I pressed against her chest, felt the severely confined outlines of breasts held by the tight binding.
Harri held my butt in her hand and squeezing my mound released the pent-up quake of a suppressed orgasm. I held her tightly as the waves of overwhelming bliss throbbed and quivered.
As I recovered, I expected to see a smug expression on her face, but, instead was greeted by a look of concern, a tenderness I never expected from so mannish a woman. Had I been wrong all these years?
As if on cue, the back door opened and Sandra rushed in, Sandra always rushes. Harri moved her hand and my skirt fell, though it caught on my knees, not completely covering either.
"Is that one still here?" asked Sandra, her tone holding contempt. She looked from me to Harri and wrinkled her nose, as though there were a stall odor. The only possible odor was one she had at one time found quite pleasing. She looked at me and nodded at the door to the storeroom.
I excused myself from Harri and followed her into the room neatly stacked with paper, cloth, the usual office supplies. Her eyes flashed, and she immediately said, "How could you?"
