They had gone to a restaurant next door to the museum for lunch. It had low ceilings, but the room was large and chic and obviously very expensive. They had chatted about the art they'd seen. Michele's father had seemed especially disengaged until the food began to arrive and only then had come out of himself. He had seemed to genuinely enjoy Annie's enthusiasm for the beautiful plates.
The servings were comically small, but so beautifully presented Annie told them she felt like she was looking at art.
"But Annie," Michele's mother had insisted, "surely you must be used to fine dining in France?"
Annie thought of the little inn outside Biarritz she went to with her uncle and his friends - the animal heads on the unpainted wood walls, the enormous round table, a silver platter heaped with duck livers that looked like a pile of cat turds in a puddle of olive oil - it had been the best thing Annie had ever tasted.
"No ma'am," she told her, "not like this, but my mother has taken me to places that try to do this, I guess? But I've never seen anything this beautiful."
Michele's father had ended up ordering enough of each item on the menu that they could all try everything. He had teased and made jokes about how pretentious the food looked, the tiny portions, but he had also genuinely enjoyed hearing the server describe each dish. He'd asked questions and been excited to talk about the ingredients; to discuss the different flavors. The conversation had been fun, and even Michele had seemed to relax a little.
When it was time to part, the four of them paused outside the doors of the restaurant. Annie had thanked Michele's parents for hosting her, for the ballet, the meals. Telling them how nice the hotel room had been; how much she had enjoyed meeting them.
"It was very nice to meet you as well Annie," Michele's father had boomed, his breath steaming the cold air like a locomotive. No longer making fun, he had returned to his more formal visage; unsmiling, face tight, jaw clenched. His voice was deep and commanding; all business.
Annie blushed under his stern drilling gaze. Felt guilty, as if he was actually able to see into her, to see what Michele meant to her, what she was to The Stronger Girl.
'Her ass-lick,' Annie thought, her blush deepening with her shame.
As Michele said her goodbyes to her father, her mother took Annie's hand. She wore beautiful black leather gloves, that were as soft and warm as skin.
"It was lovely to meet you, Annie," she told her, her smile friendly but somehow clouded - by concern? by sorrow? She looked at Michele and her husband discussing something quietly but intensely.
"They are so much the same," she said to Annie, but looking at The Stronger Girl. "I always wanted a little girl, but she is her father, always has been..." She had turned to look down at Annie. "Please take good care of her for me."
Annie thought of kneeling in the public toilet and licking Michele's pussy clean of piss; thought of the lacquered sole of Michele's shoe pressing down on the back of her head while she begged. But she also remembered the soaking orgasm Michele had had the night before. Thought of how her small hand had stretched The Stronger Girl to the brink, while Annie sucked and pushed at her clit with tongue. Michele had called Annie's name as she was wracked by an orgasm so powerful Annie had yelped in pain as contractions clamped hard on the bones of her hand.
"I do ma'am," Annie told her, feeling for a moment that perhaps she and Michele's mother might actually be talking about the same thing. "I will," she promised.
"Your parents are very nice," she told The Stronger Girl.
They were standing on the subway platform. Michele was looking down at Annie critically, her face hard. She had been fussing with Annie's hair. Now she jerked at Annie's scarf, trying to adjust it; wet her thumb with her tongue, and scrubbed at something that offended her on Annie's cheek. She made no reply.
The train had been preceded by a great blast of air and had thundered into the station. Annie had covered her ears and huddled against Michele, The Stronger Girl's long hair had whipped around them both. Michele had taken Annie by the shoulders and ushered her into the car as soon as the doors had opened; put her in the window seat, their bags at Annie's feet. Only after watching The Stronger Girl's body language as the train made a series of stops and the car began to fill with more and more passengers had Annie realized the move wasn't a small kindness - giving Annie the nicer spot - that it had been strategic; defensive.
'She's protecting me.'
As the train car filled Annie had been studying the other passengers in the black mirror of her window. She watched two beautiful Asian women, both facing Annie, pressed against each other by the crowd, but standing back to front. The woman in back had put her chin on her friend's shoulder, her cheek pressed against the other woman's neck, her mouth near her ear as they spoke and laughed.
Their intimacy had brought to mind Nancy and the lingerie saleswoman. How it had been clear to Annie, almost immediately, that the Japanese woman was attracted to her Korean friend. Annie had thought of the way the woman had watched as Annie undressed Nancy, clearly shocked at first, but then going very still as Annie had knelt and stripped Nancy bare in front of her. Annie thought of the woman's hands trembling as she adjusted the bra straps to fit.
Riding the train, she felt a spike of pleasure as she recalled how the saleswoman had then followed Annie's lead and knelt at Nancy's feet to put the first pair of panties on the beautiful girl.
'Baby Miss,' Annie thought with a surge of pride.
Annie had remained kneeling across from the woman, Nancy standing between them, and had thrilled as her friend had thrust her hips at the woman, the front panel of the panties almost touching the woman's face and told her she wanted to try another set. Sitting back, low on her haunches, Annie had watched the woman strip the girl. Nancy's tiny pale nipples were erect and long as the first bra had come off. Topless, she had turned around to face the woman, thrusting her hips at her. From between Nancy's thighs, Annie had seen the beads of sweat on the saleswoman's upper lip as she reached up and pulled the panties down; her mouth daringly close to Nancy's pussy. For one very exciting moment Annie had thought that the woman would lean forward to kiss Nancy's sex; would take her friend in her mouth. But instead, she had followed the panties to the floor and bowed her head low; making obeisances in imitation of what Annie had done.
At the sight of the woman humbling herself so entirely to Nancy - a stranger, a girl - Annie had felt her core go liquid. Her belly had felt as though she had swallowed coals; that she was filling with warmth and wet. She had looked on as Nancy had stepped out of underwear like she was a goddess and they were foam.
"I want to try the pink set," Nancy had said. Her voice casual; calm and warm. The saleswoman had raised herself on her knees and turned to find the set. Annie had put her hands on the sides of Nancy's thighs, pressed her lips to the crack of her ass before dropping back on her haunches to assist the saleswoman with the fitting.
Annie and the saleswoman had worked together to carefully hold the frilly little pink trunks open for Nancy to step into. Annie had studied the woman, tried to guess her age. She was fit and lean. Thirty? Forty? Annie hadn't been able to tell but remembered staring at her cleavage, thinking that her breasts were surprisingly large for an Asian woman. Her face was very pretty, wide full lips, beautiful dark eyes, with faded freckles across her cheeks and nose that made Annie think the woman might have had an Irish or Scottish grandparent.
As Annie had boldly studied her, the saleswoman had carefully avoided Annie's eye; had kept her eyes cast down as the two of them hoisted the silky pink bottoms up.
"Shame?" Annie wondered.
It was only after Annie had released the waistband and watched the saleswoman smooth them over Nancy's hips that she noticed the woman's wedding ring. Annie had felt her heart overfill her chest, a fresh plume of wet heat split her down the middle; had for a brief moment convinced herself she was going orgasm then and there.
