After her first girl kiss, Sheila just stares, dumbfounded at the thought of what other kisses--intriguing girl kisses--she might yet receive. Suddenly she is eager, no longer worried about the dark twisty steps Clare is leading her down to the Secret Spring.
Clare, still holding Sheila's hand, is wondering to herself how stupid it was to kiss this white girl, the mine boss man's daughter, not to mention Miss Betty's niece. At the old wooden door at the end the corridor, she stops but doesn't open the door. Clare stands hesitant, a frown of worry on her smooth forehead. Sheila understands then how outrageous, even dangerous, it was to be kissed by a black woman--her so-called maid. Her lips are still wet with that delicious kiss. The wetness elsewhere is back, the one that embarrasses and torments her at unexpected times. She rests her cheek against Clare's back and squeezes Clare's hand.
"Don't worry, Miss Clare. I won't tell." And then she giggles, remembering Tiger nipping Clare's ear, "But I would still love to tease Tiger.--Your Tiger is such a big tease, I know she would understand!"
"She'd make you come to bed with us!" Clare giggles now too, reassured that Miss Sheila might be trusted, sensing something special in her frankness.
Sheila blushes unseen in the dark corridor, but takes the initiative and spanks Clare on her butt, "Quit--as your girlfriend would say! If we stand here in the dark much longer I'll be tempted to nip your ear, too!"
Clare laughs then, rich and warm, turns and hugs Sheila, whispering, "Thank you!"
On the lintel cut in the rock above the door is another key. "This is the outer door." Clare says as she unlocks it, putting the key back in its hiding place. Once inside they hear flowing water and feel the first hint of warm steam. "Be quiet now." She whispers as they continue along the shaft until they reach yet another door she opens quietly, peaking into a long room that looks like a big storage closet. She puts a finger to her lips and points to the far wall where rough wooden slats let in glimmers of light from the room beyond--the Secret Spring. Now like naughty girls they tiptoe to that wall and peak thru the slats to spy on the naked woman and their girlfriends playing in the spring. She marvels at the shapes and sizes and hues of their mostly rosy bodies. They glimmer in the steam, slippery in the warm water, while the slender hands of their companions reach out to casually caress their wet shiny skin. A girl is leaning on her side, her head resting on the shoulder of another woman. She stares as a playful hand cups her bare breast. The girl smiles, her eyes closed in contentment. A girl like herself Sheila realizes as she studies the thin bare beauty of her cuddled body.
Pointing to the serving girls carrying buckets of hot water, "My job sometimes," whispers Clare, lips so close to her ear Sheila feels their plumpness and leans into them, the better to steal an accidental kiss.
"Hard work." Sheila whispers back, turning her face so that their cheeks touch. She is still floundering in all of Clare--her unexpected kiss, her rich warm laugh, her stern but forgiving smile, that she sleeps with Tiger, the girl who hugged her own bottom so playfully.
"Careful, Miss Sheila," Clare says, "don't get me started."
"Started?" Sheila asks, looking at her with unblinking eyes.
"Oh, hell!" Clare whispers, "Virgins!" Sheila shudders, sending a tremor through them both. "Come on," Clare says, and pulls her to the curtain on the other side the room behind which they find a set of old cowboy clothes hanging on a nail.
"You need to change."
Sheila stares dubiously at the old dusty clothes. She sees a set of chaps and wonders whether these are really necessary. Clare grins, "Guess you get to wear the whole getup. We'll hang your regular clothes here. I'll help you."
Sheila nods, her face blushing in the dusty streams of light. "Don't worry it's what maids do." Clare shivers as she studies the smooth pale tempting face of her charge.
Sheila takes Clare's hand and looks again carefully at her, at the dim light blending with the dark shine of her cheek, at the beauty she discovers there, "What do friends do, Miss Clare?"
Clare smiles broadly, says nothing, but hums a little tune as she reaches out to slip the straps of Sheila's dress off her shoulders. First the right shoulder, then the left: Like a baby, she lifts Sheila's arms through their hops. Next she reaches around Sheila pressing her body almost against hers to reach the buttons on the back of her long dress. Sheila can't resist, she leans her cheek against the top of Clare's head, and says, "You smell like cinnamon."
"Tiger's always missing with my hair." Clare mutters, surprised and secretly pleased at all this fluttery dangerous flirting going on between them. She leans closer her face almost against Sheila's chest as her fingers slowly unbutton her skirt down the back, the lower the button the closer she gets to that warm chest.
Sheila whispers, "You like my buttons?" leaning forward to help Clare reach the button, surprised and pleasured now by the touch of Claire's forehead resting in the valley of her tingling breasts.
Clare lifts the back of her skirt so that she can reach the last button. She rests her head comfortably where Sheila lets her. Then she giggles softly, moves her head back and forth, the better to feel those warm breasts yet hidden beneath the scratchy blouse and thick undergarment, and says, "Yes, ma'am!"
Sheila's arms reach out. Lightly as a feather floating to the welcoming ground, she hugs Clare, arms along her thin strong shoulders, and, settling, snuggles, thinking she could stay like this all day. Clare feels the girl as she frees the last button, but doesn't move. Instead she gently drops to her knees and lets the girl hug her all she wants, her arm returning the favor, resting on the pert curve to the girl's bottom. It is so innocent, this warmth, the hands that encompass her so tender. Like Tiger she thinks when she sleeps snuggled close on a cold night in their unheated room. After a while Clare and Sheila untangle themselves, dazed and bemused: the hugging, the warm steam, the laughter and chatting of the women behind the wall, the caress of bodies misty in their steamy sinecure, tell them they are in a dream far from the cares of the world. Clare sighs, "We can't stay here all day."
(Lily, smiles and smiles, her eyes wet. Julie holds her, stroking her hair, thinking of cinnamon, and Sheila, herself dewy-eyed, rests her ancient young head between Lily's breasts. '
Home at last.'
She thinks. Murmurs of agreement among the girls, snuggling together in the here and now on Miss Betty's big round bed, still floating in the ether of the past.)
Back at the Spring, Sheila smiles at Clare, "I wish I could bring you home with me."
"You can visit Tiger and me anytime." Clare says as she unbuttons the back of Sheila's blouse.
My blouse too!
Sheila thinks as she feels the warm air on her shoulders.
"Thank you, Miss Clare!" Sheila teases, wondering what it would be like to have that 'sleepover' with her new friends, as she watches Clare unrolling a long strip of bed sheet. "What's that for?"
