The Interview: From 'Investigative Journalism'
(I hope the shifts in POV in this story won't be confusing. After the introduction, each of Denise's adventures are told in third person, as though they have been transcribed after the interview to that point of view.)
The young red-haired woman looked dubiously at the tape-recorder resting on the coffee table in front of her. "Why do you have to record all of our conversation? I know you want to use the incidents you asked me to relate but I thought you said that everything I told you concerning me would be 'off the record'."
"No, I said what you told me about yourself would be background material. I promise not to use your name or any details that might reveal your identity. I am planning one or more of the stories that you tell me will be in the book I'm hoping to write along the lines of 'Women on Top'." Dawn Garth, the prize-winning morning anchor of the early news reassured the other woman. "I use the tape recorder to make sure I don't miss anything. Once I've had it transcribed I will destroy the tape so that even your voiceprint will be gone. However, if it would make you feel more comfortable, I'll try to take notes instead."
"No, that's okay, I guess. If I didn't trust you I wouldn't have agreed to this whole thing."
"Okay, great." Dawn smiled. "I'm going to call you 'Denise' from now on, since its not even close to your real name. Alright?"
"Alright." Denise returned Dawn's smile. Just for a moment she let her eyes travel over the reporter's slender body, lingering on the firm legs that were shown to their best advantage by the moderately short skirt and the heels. Those legs were crossed at the ankles and tucked slightly back as Dawn leaned forward to turn on the recorder. Denise savored the little rising of Dawn's skirt as she did that. She swept her gaze over the remainder of the attractive blonde sitting beside her, then abruptly brought her attention back to the moment at hand as Dawn began to speak.
"Denise, if I understand correctly, you are a third year college student. You're twenty-one and you, for reasons we need not go into, need to be completely self-supporting. To make ends meet and still attend classes, you found a job with, well, to be honest, an escort service."
"Yes, that's true, Dawn." The younger woman refused to blush as she met the reporter's eyes.
"But a very special escort service. One that caters only to women. And in your case at least, in very special ways." Dawn noted.
"True again. Instead of being someone to cling to an arm on a night on the town or simply being a bed-partner for a weekend, we specialize in fulfilling fantasies. Women contact us when they want to live out something they've always dreamed about but never dared to do."
"And you are willing to share a few of those experiences, those fantasy fulfillments, with me?"
"Oh yes." Denise smiled.
(First story)
"Sometime the woman who is availing herself of my services is specifically interested in my assuming the role of a certain person." Denise laughed wickedly. "Usually its someone famous. I've been Britney Spears more than once, although I can't imagine why. I also do a good Kate Beckinsale from 'Underworld' and a pretty good Gretchen Wilson. When that is the case I go by whatever name they want me to answer to. 'Caroline' was the name that Sandy wanted me to use."
Sandy was a middle-aged divorcee. Still attractive, she and her husband had split amicably several years before when it became obvious they had grown too far apart and neither had the will nor the desire to try to put things back together. They had carried on together until both their daughters were out of college and then quietly parted. The divorce surprised no one, especially their daughters.
Sandy's fantasy had arisen when her younger daughter was between her sophomore and junior years in college. She had brought home her roommate Caroline. Years later, Sandy could still see the young woman in her mind's eye. Caroline had been of medium height with long straight brown hair and dark brown eyes. Long firm legs accentuated a tight bottom just as a flat stomach made her small proud breasts stand out.
Sandy knew all this because of an accident. She had been cleaning up the house and doing laundry one afternoon and had forgotten to restock the towels in the guest bathroom. A plaintive call from that room had reached her ears.
"Ms. Sandy, there aren't any towels in here!"
"Oh my goodness Caroline." She had called back. "I'll be right there. Hastily she had gathered up some fluffy terrycloth towels and hurried to the door, pausing to knock.
"Come in." There was a pause and then Caroline added in a half joking, half serious tone, "Please!"
Sandy turned the door knob, balancing the towels with her forearm and her other hand. Backing in, she nudged the door closed behind her with her hip to try to keep the cool air from the house AC out of the room. Turning to present a towel to Caroline, she stopped and swallowed a gasp of surprise.
"Thank you, Ms. Sandy," the dark haired girl acknowledged gratefully, taking two of the proffered towels. It wasn't the courteous reply that stopped Sandy in her tracks, it was the fact that the young coed was standing on the rug by the tub, quite nude, and quite unabashed about that fact. Taking the first towel, Caroline proceeded to wrap it around her, but not before Sandy found herself, to her great surprise, drinking in the view.
Nor did the moment stop there. Propping one foot on the bathtub, Caroline used a second towel to dry her leg, then switched to do the other one. The juncture of the towel opened and Sandy stared at the dark patch between the young woman's legs. Caroline then carefully hung that towel up and bent over the tub to dry her hair with yet a third towel. Sandy's eyes riveted on the cheeks of the girl's firm ass and the lines of its cleft.
Never before had Sandy had such a reaction to another female. She couldn't stop looking. Her mouth was dry. Unbelievably, she was attracted to this young woman. No, more than that, she wanted Caroline, wanted her sexually.
Sandy actually took a step towards Caroline before pulling herself together. Hastily she slipped back out through the bathroom door, closing it behind her. Mechanically she walked to the linen closet and put the remainder of the towels away. Then she went down to the kitchen, made a cup of tea and tried to make sense of the whole thing.
