I haven't had but three lesbian encounters in my life. I don't consider myself a lesbian. I don't consider myself bisexual. But I have to admit that the three times I've been with a woman were very hot. The first two times occurred very early in my life. The first was a teenage experiment and was quite informative and satisfying. The second was a mid twenties rebellious event. The third happened about six months ago. I am not a youngster anymore. However, whenever I think of this woman, Melanie, it still makes me hot.
I have enjoyed a wonderful friendship for more than two decades with Jonathan. His partner, Karl, is a very high profile, wealthy man. He travels frequently. When Karl is away, Jonathan kindly invites me to accompany him to various places. Jon and I have always enjoyed one another's company and also enjoy many of the same pastimes. Last June, Jon invited me out for drinks and dinner. He and Karl lived in an elegant penthouse in the Turtle Creek area, and they were regular customers at most of the VIP spots around the city.
On this evening, Jon took me to one of the finest restaurants around, located in a five star hotel. Whenever we ate here, we saw at least a local celebrity, sometimes a national, and sometimes an international one. Although never starstruck, certainly not a starfucker, I wondered on entering the restaurant if we'd see anyone tonight. Thursdays were not particularly crowded evenings here and, because of this, we didn't feel rushed and decided to slowly enjoy our drinks before ordering dinner.
We were seated near a foursome, and a few minutes after this I realized that one of the two women at the table was a local somebody. She was married to an obscenely wealthy older man, who was still vibrant and elegant, and she was renowned for her philanthropic activities. She was gorgeous, mid-thirties. I'd seen photos of her, but never seen her in the flesh. And what a flesh it was. Because of the warm weather, I suppose, she was attired in a lovely, skimpy slip dress. It was a beautiful shade of blue, near the color of her eyes. Her polished blond hair, de rigueur in Texas society, was swept up in a flattering chignon. What directed my attention to her was her musical laughter. It reminded me of soothing temple bells.
After our second cocktail, I headed to the ladies' room. As I emerged from the posh stall, Melanie, Miss Socialite, was standing in front of the large wall of mirrors applying lipstick. I stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked back, and she smiled. It was a genuine smile, not a cheerleader smile. I was pleasantly surprised. I headed to the sink and was immediately accosted by the attendant who proffered various potions. I politely refused and simply washed my hands with the plebian soap next to the faucet I'd chosen. I couldn't, however, keep my eyes off of Melanie. She was just as stunning close up as she'd been at a distance. Finally, I guess my stares drove her to speak.
"You like what you see," she asked, teasingly.
"Uh. Oh, I'm so sorry. I - - - I just can't believe I am looking at someone as beautiful as you are. You are absolutely stunning. And I mean that."
She smiled again. "Well, if you look any closer, I'm going to think you have x-ray vision."
"Well," I returned. "I think that would be a good thing to have."
Melanie turned her gaze to the attendant. The attendant moved to the farthest reaches of the large powder room.
Melanie leaned in closer to me.
"Would you like to explore what you've been staring at?" she inquired.
I could only stare at her. I couldn't believe she'd asked this. I'm sure I must have looked shocked.
"Oh, it's all right," Melanie said. "I just thought, from your look, that you might be interested."
I'm sure I visibly gulped.
"I - - - I am interested. I just can't believe you are."
Again, that smile. She called to the attendant, removed something, money I suppose, from her handbag, and whispered something in her ear. The attendant moved to the powder room's outer door, but she did not leave. She appeared to be at post.
Melanie ushered me into the largest of the stalls at the end of the room. It was equipped with a small chaise lounge. I didn't know if this would work out or not. My other two experiences with women had shown me that I liked to give the woman pleasure, but I wasn't much interested in receiving. I hoped Melanie liked to receive. As soon as the door was securely locked, Melanie grabbed my face and began to kiss me hotly. I grabbed her hands, pulled them away from my face, placed them behind her back, and loosely held her wrists together with my left hand. With my right hand, I cupped Melanie's chin and asked her if she had objections to my directing the action.
"Not at all," she said as she batted those long eyelashes over the incredibly blue eyes.
"Whadda you like, Melanie? Anything in particular," I asked.
"Do what you like," she said.
"Well, maybe you wouldn't like for me to do what I'd like."