"Aw, Kate -- you brought my favourite!" Lamya smiled at me from across the table, holding up the bottle of sparking pink Zinfandel. The smile warmed me down to my toes, suprising me with the intensity. Lamya and I had shared a lovely weekend at a spa together a few weeks previously and it had radically altered my perception of my friend of 10 years. Although I had always noticed how exotically attractive Lamya was, having full-blown intercourse with her had given me a new appreciation for her attributes.
I was feeling a slight buzz from the 2 -- or maybe 3 if I was being honest with myself -- glasses of wine I enjoyed before the walk over to Becca's house. It was a seasonably warm spring evening and I had found myself smiling at practically every dog-walking couple I had encountered during the 15-minute walk. A "Tupperware" party, Becca had told us - "sort of". All of my mommy friends had an inkling what to expect -- we had joked about it often enough, particularly when bemoaning my partnerless status. I called them "mommy friends" since we were all moms, and most of our kids went to school together. I had found it incredibly convenient to befriend women whose kids were the same age as mine and who I could tolerate for the occasional playdate.
Lamya had been an object of my lustful admiration for several years - pretty much ever since I realized I liked women. It wasn't hard to understand why. She was 5'3" with skin the colour of heavily creamed coffee, and the most amazingly full breasts I had ever seen. There are hourglass figures...and then there was Lamya.
But since most of my friends were married, they enjoyed living vicariously through me. I had learned not to leave my dating profile open when we had a mommy night or I ended up with a slew of matches with 25 year old men I KNOW I hadn't swiped right on! One of these evenings had led to a somewhat tongue-in-cheek conversation about my sexual needs being met.
"You don't have a boyfriend yet," Becca had announced in her usual forthright manner, "so let's help you shop for a battery operated one!"
A "B.O.B." I had been somewhat mortified with this pronouncement, but my now-tipsy self admitted that it had some merit. I shopped for shoes and bathing suits with my friends for moral support and constructive feedback, why not for sex toys?
I uncorked the bottle of Zinfandel, pouring Lamya a generous portion. Lamya had dressed for the evening in a sparkling gold tank top that stretched tightly over her full breasts -- breasts that I suddenly recalled kissing and stroking.
I was actually shaking my head to try and focus on the here and now when I heard my name called out enthusiastically.
"Kate! I haven't seen you in forever!" It was Gina, with her flowing red mane of hair, red lipstick, and Italian enthusiasm. I found myself enfolded in a perfumed embrace. I hugged back, pleasantly reminded at how beautifully affectionate Gina always was. She did everything enthusiastically, in fact, which was one of the reasons she was such a wonderful addition to our mommy group. Gina had only recently started joining us for our monthly get-togethers of wine, munchies, and general shooting the shit. With most of us in our late 30's or so, there was so much to bitch about -- work, kids, husbands -- most of us found we needed this "me-time" with a desperation.
It was at Jasmine's house last month that we had started talking fairly explicitly about sex. We'd always used mommy night to share experiences about relationships and parenting. And hell -- most of us now went to the same esthetician for bikini waxing after Lola told us about the hearts and stars Marie waxed into her pubic hair for special occasions. But last month, I had told the other women about a website I'd discovered, specifically designed for women - or more precisely - for women to learn how to pleasure themselves. I'd shown the others the comprehensive instructional videos on masturbation and even given Becca my log-in information to check it out herself. This, unsurprisingly, had led to a discussion about my lack of....personal assistance in the sexual realm.
I hadn't told them about the all-women orgy I'd had a few weeks ago at a spa. Though some of the women at Becca's tonight had been there...
I wasn't a lesbian, but like a few of my other friends, I did not discriminate.
So here we were at Becca's house. Becca, the soccer mom -- well, ringuette rather than soccer -- who took any challenge with good humour and wit. Becca was now ushering us into the living room - a bowl of salsa in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She was taller than me by a few inches, her hair straighter and without the red of my auburn curls. Her breasts were slightly smaller than mine, but surprisingly pert after 3 children, and proportional to her athletic frame. Becca had immediately jumped on the problem of a B.O.B. for me, and within 10 days, had sent out an email invitation to the "It's not Tupperware Party".
We were expecting about 7 or 8 of the mommy friends and Becca had sent the hubby and kids up North to their cottage for the night. She had even left out a bunch of mattresses in the basement from a sleepover the previous weekend in case any of us decided to crash for the night. Given my meandering and slightly wobbly stroll over to Becca's house this evening, I thought I might have to take her up on it.
The doorbell rang. Becca deftly placed the bowl of salsa on the coffee table and detoured to the front door. I positioned myself on the couch next to Jen, who was dressed in artfully ripped white jeans, a pale pink blouse, and her usual assortment of gold jewellery. I had actually made an effort tonight in turquoise capris and a crossover black tshirt, but still managed to feel like a country bumpkin next to my two stylish friends.
Becca led a very petite, curvy blonde woman into the living room where we were all sitting around the coffee table on the couch, loveseat, and the odd chair.
"This is Isabelle," Becca announced to the room at large and we offered waves, smiles, or brief words of greeting. She had a large black, wheeled suitcase, which she brought to the adjoining dining room table and started unpacking.
My attention was drawn to Shannon, who had just sat across from me on one of the dining room chairs, pulled into the room for additional seating.
"So guys," Shannon asked, "did you enjoy Spa des RΓͺves last month? Tracy said it was a pretty awesome weekend." She smirked and I wondered what exactly Tracy had told her. I recalled that it had been Shannon's recommendation that we try it out and that she had been there at least twice before. Hmmmm...
"It was...unusual," I replied and saw Jen squirm in my peripheral vision. Jen was still predominantly heterosexual, but between the alcohol and the general atmosphere of the spa, she had definitely expanded her horizons. We all had, I suspected.
Shannon smiled and said, "I'd love to go back with you guys." I felt my face heat with the heavy eye contact she was giving me, and other parts of me started to heat as well. Shannon was easily the tallest woman in the room with short, curly dark hair and small perky breasts. She was older than most of us by several years, but you'd never guess it from looking at her. She enjoyed Cross Fit and triathlons, and I think Tracy said she played bass in a rock band in her free time. Tonight she was wearing a patterned wrap-around dress and her long, graceful toes were beautiful painted to match her dress.