The Philadelphia Story

Dear Readers: For better story clarity, I suggest reading the first three installments in the series, "The French Connection", "Caribbean Duet" and "Miami Heat." There are several minor references to the previous stories.

Cindy's Sapphic Adventures:

The Philadelphia Story: Part 1

Ben was showering as I adjusted the pillow under my ass. My needy gash was overdue for a good tongue lashing and Ben was the designated licker. When I heard the shower stop running, my pussy quivered in anticipation.

Ben walked into the bedroom without a stitch of clothes on and sighed when he saw my spread eagle pose.

"Do I have to?" he said wearily and collapsed on the bed.

"What's the problem? Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked in a derisive way.

Ben had the most hurt looking expression on his face that I jumped off the pillow and hugged him. I kissed all over his unhappy face and he looked up at me with a weak smile.

"I love you Cindy." He said in a voice full of emotion.

My heart was thudding in my chest. I loved this man with all my heart and as I tenderly held him against my body, I apologized for my rude comment, a rarity for me.

Ben had spent most of the very hot day working in the garden and was beat. But, I knew a sure fire way to get him started.

"Want me to tell you a story?" I asked very sweetly.

With his head against my chest, Ben nodded affirmatively.

"Any particular one?" I questioned eagerly but he was already kissing my chest and nipples.

Philadelphia was one of my favorites and Ben liked it because it ended with him.

Melissa:

My first semester in graduate school was spent adjusting to life in the city. Luckily, my apartment was close to campus and within walking distance. Usually brimming with self confidence, I found the Ivy League atmosphere challenging and intimidating.

The course load was light but intense and unlike undergraduate college, required a lot of research. My computer hummed with activity until the wee hours of the morning. I was having difficulty with my English Literature seminar and was seriously thinking about dropping the course.

My academic advisor suggested that I speak with the seminar professor before I made any decision. Dr. Miller was very cordial and after hearing my concerns, was looking at me intently. Her gaze made me feel uncomfortable and I looked down at the floor.

"Ms. Lowry, judging by your transcripts, you're more than qualified for this seminar." She stated factually.

"As far as research papers are concerned, I am interested in your arguments and the research supporting those arguments." She added in the same factual tone.

I was clutching my "drop course" slip in my hand and was unable to look at her.

"But, if you want to drop the seminar, I'll sign the slip." She stated and reached for the paper.

I don't know why but the memory of Lupe after her first pro fight appeared in my head and I crumpled the paper into a tight ball and it fell to the floor.

When I looked at Dr. Miller, she was smiling.

"I'm glad you changed you're mind" she remarked rather nicely.

Tears welled up in my eyes; it was the first pleasant thing that someone said to me in weeks. Dr. Miller sat on the end of her desk in front of me; put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my teary eyes.

"Graduate school can be complicated and arduous." she said with knowing concern. Then added,

"It challenges one to contemplate complex and exceedingly abstract ideas."

Dr. Miller handed me a tissue and I wiped my eyes.

"Thank you, Ma'am" I said in a sniffing voice and walked out of her office.

As I was contemplating my tenuous graduate school future at O'Brien's tavern, a tall red head with a nice smile sat in the vacant seat at my table.

"You look like you could use a friend." She remarked with kindness.

When I looked up at her inquisitive face, I was intrigued by the splash of freckles that adorned her cheeks and nose. I mentioned my meeting with Dr. Miller and was close to tears.

"Dr. Miller, that's one tough professor." She stated knowingly. Then added,

"Freshman English can be pretty tough at an Ivy League school."

She saw the stunned expression on my face.

"I'm a grad student!" I barked a little too loudly and forcefully.

"Take it easy Cuz." She said in a placating tone.

With my wounded feelings boiling over, I glared at her.

"But, you have to admit you can easily pass for a first year undergrad." She pointed out in a factual way to my frowning face.

"Would I be able to sit here and drink a beer if I were a freshman?" I questioned nastily.

"Ever hear of fake ID"s?" she shot back then sighed with an air of defeat.

"Hey look, I'm sorry. I'll leave you to your misery." She declared with sympathy and sarcasm.

As she was standing up to leave, I regretted my outburst.

"I'm sorry. Can we start over?" I asked politely and introduced myself.

"Melissa" she said in a congenial tone with a broad grin.

As we sat and drank beer, I discovered that Melissa was a 2nd year grad assistant and taught entry level chemistry to freshman. With her lively manner and direct way of speaking, she was a welcome change from the droning voices one finds in academia. It was easier to envision her driving a tractor trailer truck than teaching chemistry.

"Dr. Melissa's Grad school lesson for the day; on Friday afternoon leave the books, research, paper writing and worries behind and do something else, preferably drinking at your favorite tavern, hint, hint. You NEED a break from the hectic schedule of research and writing papers. Burn out is common in grad school, especially in the Ivy League. Any questions?" she stated emphatically.

"What's a Cuz?" I asked with as serious tone.

Melissa chuckled and explained that "Cuz" was a slang term for cousin and even if two people were not related, it was often used by close friends.

Melissa lived only one block from campus and invited me to dinner. Her studio apartment had a lived in look and with her face in the freezer portion of her refrigerator she asked,

"Do you prefer the turkey or the meatloaf?"

As the frozen dinners were warming in the microwave oven, I looked around her eclectically decorated room. On one wall was a framed diploma with a blue ribbon but on closer inspection I read with amazement:

"First Place: Air Guitar Competition, Asbury Park N.J" Melissa saw me and as she was handing me a beer, commented in a serious tone.

"I'm more proud of that than my damn Chemistry degree. I won five hundred bucks!"

Melissa went into greater detail and explained that her boyfriend at the time was practicing for the competition when she discovered she had a flair for playing faux guitar.

"He was an egotistical pain in the ass so I practiced when he wasn't around."

She chose "Summer Song" by Joe Satriani and spent hours mimicking his style.

"It's one kick ass guitar song." She waxed poetically.

I begged Melissa for a performance and after she drained her beer bottle agreed. She listened thru the song once and I was impressed by the driving beat and Satriani's virtuosity.

Melissa readied herself and stood with her red hair hanging in front of her face and her head slightly downward. With her hands clutching an imaginary guitar, she told me to crank up the sound. When the song started blasting out of the speakers, she launched into her performance.

I was captivated by Melissa's very realistic performance and applauded enthusiastically when it ended. She took a bow and stated for the record,

"The asshole finished in sixth place and never spoke to me again."

Before I left that evening, I promised Melissa that I would meet her for happy hour on Friday afternoons. Despite the rocky start, I was thrilled at having found a new friend.

We met on Friday afternoons at O'Brien's and Dr. Melissa's prescription for surviving grad school was right on the money. She had such an easy, unaffected and charming air about her.

One Friday afternoon she saw an old friend of hers walk in the tavern and she yelled half way across the bar,

"Hey Bradley, is that a huge wad of money in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

Most of the patrons within earshot cracked up including me.

Melissa never seemed to have trouble finding boyfriends and although I don't think she was promiscuous, she dated regularly. I described Melissa as tall but when your 5' 2", almost everyone else looks tall. With her striking red hair, angular but curvy body and large breasts, she had a definite sex appeal that the opposite sex found irresistible.

However, she treated our Friday afternoon happy hours with reverence and refused to schedule anything that conflicted with our weekly socials.

On a picture postcard Friday afternoon, I was finishing some research in the same building that Melissa taught an entry level Chemistry class. Curious about her teaching style, I walked up to her classroom. Unbeknownst to me, my shadow was visible on the floor in front of the open door.

I heard Melissa's voice but it suddenly stopped and I saw her face peer around the door jam at me. She seized my hand and pulled me into the classroom next to her. In a loud voice she announced,

"Class, we have a very distinguished visitor from the University of Miami, Dr. Cynthia Lowry. She will be observing the class today and reporting her comments to the Department Chairperson."

As I sat in the back of the classroom, Melissa's class regarded me with a combination of admiration and fear. With her white lab coat and conservative outfit, Melissa looked and sounded like the consummate professor.

At the end of class, several students came up to me and said they were glad to have met me. My only response was a curt "Thank You" as I kept up the façade.

During our walk to O'Brien's Tavern, we laughed raucously at the innocent prank we had pulled at the expense of her student's.

The weather was turning colder, when Melissa asked me if I would accompany her to see an up and coming rock band she liked. She was experiencing a temporary and for her, uncharacteristic boyfriend drought.

The small concert hall was located in a part of the city I was unfamiliar with and we had to park blocks away from the venue. The hall was crowded and stiflingly hot but I enjoyed the show.

Afterwards, we sat at the tiny bar next to the hall and Melissa was downing beers faster than usual. By the time we left, she was in a happy but drunk state. The weather had changed to rain and at times freezing rain. I had a hard time finding the car and in her inebriated state, Melissa was no help.

We were soaked to the bone and since my apartment was closer, I decided to stop there. With my arm around her waist for support, I managed to get Melissa thru my front door and onto the sofa.

I grabbed several oversize towels and blankets from the linen closet and started taking Melissa's clothes off. She regarded me with an amused expression until I got to her bra and panties.

"Are you going to take advantage of me now?" she asked in a boozy but sincere voice.

I ignored her and helped her remove the last two articles. Quickly, I wrapped her head and body in towels and a blanket. I stripped my clothes as well and hung them on a makeshift clothes line in the bathroom.

When I reappeared in the living room, Melissa stared at me with a look of curiosity.

"You're not interested?" She questioned with sincerity.

Melissa was blunt but to the point.

"I don't take advantage of drunks, either men or women. I prefer they remember the experience." I said convincingly.

Melissa kept staring but her eyes were slowly closing and she fell asleep.

The next morning Melissa woke to the smell of brewed coffee and fresh fruit. With bleary eyes she sat in my kitchen and drank big gulps of hot coffee. I said if she needed to shower, she was more than welcome and she took me up on the offer.

Afterwards as she sat on my sofa with another cup of hot java, she tried to apologize for her behavior but I said it wasn't necessary.

"I'm interested if you are?" she asked with a sheepish expression on her face.

I gazed at her in stunned silence. Melissa explained that because of her success in finding men, she wasn't interested in women sexually. But, many of her friends in undergraduate college had good experiences and she felt like she missed out on something important.

I had never discussed my sexual orientation with Melissa but apparently she was intuitive enough to know.

"You're the first person I've met who I would...well...I mean..." she stammered.

I was flattered and told her so. I took her by the hand into my bedroom and lay on top of her in my bed. Her eyes betrayed a mixture of fear and desire and I kissed her with a tender passion only a woman is capable of delivering.

Melissa's soft, pliant skin texture was a turn on and I delicately kissed her face, neck and shoulders. I was fascinated by the shape and color of the freckles imbedded in her pale white skin and she told me that she hated having freckles from an early age.

"Pity, because I think their sexy." I said in a growling tone and trailed my wet tongue over as many as possible.

Another hot feature for me was Melissa's big boobs as mine looked like pimples in comparison. The nipples were broad with little pebbles in the center. With childlike delight, I alternated between a light and hard sucking action that had her writhing under me.

The orbs of Melissa's skinny ass fit perfectly in my hands as I raised her pussy for a closer inspection. The dark red curly pubes framed her pouty lips and as I gazed at her cute pussy, I sensed her growing need.

"Are you just going to stare at it?" she wheezed in a husky voice.

With slow skillful licks, I lapped her leaking gash. I raised her ass even higher and tongued her butt hole with piston like precision.

Melissa gasped and panted wildly as I replaced my tongue with a well lubricated finger. With my mouth working her pussy into a frothy mess, she moaned and cried out.

"Damn! Fuck! Oh! Oh! Ah! OOH!

Her voice ran the gamut of meaningless but meaningful sounds.

With a furious determination, I sucked and licked Melissa's sopping wet slit while my finger reamed her rose bud.

OH! OH! OH!" She panted in a long continuous series that culminated in a loud cry.

During Melissa's orgasm, my tongue swabbed the drenched folds of her pussy and teased her clit. Her body quivered and jerked with each swipe of her sensitive bud.

Afterwards we lay facing each other and she had that sheepish look on her face. She explained that while she totally enjoyed the experience, she preferred sex with men.

"What can I say, I love cocks." She said with resignation in her voice.

With as serious a tone as I could muster, I told Melissa that I valued our friendship more than anything else and that if this was the first and last time she had a same sex encounter, I was proud I was her choice.

However, it did have the effect of opening up our friendship even further. For example, during my weekly seminar class on Thursdays with Dr. Miller, I found myself admiring her trim and sexy body. In glowing terms I told Melissa about my growing obsession and like a true friend she listened without judging my motives or feelings.

Nicole:

The day before Thanksgiving, Melissa and I went to O'Brien's tavern in lieu of our usual Friday social. With a research paper due in a few days, I had to spend most of the holiday weekend on the computer.

We were seated at a booth when in walks Dr. Miller on the arm of a handsome man.

As she was sitting down, she spotted me and asked us to join them. I refused at first but she insisted and I acquiesced. She introduced the handsome man as David, her fiancé.

Without my asking, Melissa engaged David in conversation knowing full well that I wanted to get to know Dr. Miller. I was curious about Dr. Miller and asked how she became a university professor.

"Please call me Nicole" she pleaded.

As Dr. Miller spoke, I was fascinated by her brown skin, pretty face and delicate hands. She told me she was raised in a middle class suburban town outside Philadelphia and was considered brainy, a real geek straight thru high school. With her excellent grades, she received a full scholarship to one of the top colleges in Pennsylvania and never looked back. Her mother emigrated from Jamaica and her father was from South Carolina. They relocated to that state after she graduated from college. Despite her parents move, she decided to stay in Philadelphia.

With her sensuous Caribbean island look, I had a hard time envisioning the pretty and vivacious woman in front of me as a geek. David ordered another round of drinks but I was too involved in Nicole's life story to drink. As she was recounting an amusing anecdote, her face lit up with laughter and I was entranced by her charming personality.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" she asked inquisitively.

Even though I had to finish my research paper, I said no.

Nicole wrote down the address.

"Say, around three o'clock?" she stated more than asked. Of course I agreed.

Thanksgiving Day found me on Dr. Miller's doorstep with a bottle of wine in my hand. She showed me around her beautifully decorated apartment which occupied two floors of an old townhouse. As I followed her, I glanced at her sexy body encased in tight jeans, almost see thru top and flat bare midriff. Best of all, she was bare foot and her feet were just as sexy as the rest of her body.

We ended the tour in Nicole's galley style kitchen and she peered at the label on the wine bottle.

"You have good taste in wine." she remarked knowingly.

Suddenly I felt very shy and I'm sure my face betrayed my emotion. As Nicole opened the bottle and poured two glasses, she was looking at me with her intense eyes.

"Tell me about yourself." She asked with genuine curiosity.

I talked about growing up in Florida, attending private schools, my parents, my ambitions, everything except my love life.

Nicole took a sip from her wine glass and innocently asked about my love life.

"A pretty girl like you and no boyfriend?" she stated questioningly and with emphasis.

Now, I was sure I blushed and Nicole made a very sharp observation.

"Oh, I see." She said knowingly. Then, added with concern in her voice.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Don't ask me why but I started telling Nicole about the male and female loves in my life, especially Claire, Natalie, Lee and Maria. She listened with the same intensity as her gaze until we smelled something burning.

Nicole pulled a potato casserole out of the oven that looked a little burnt but salvageable. I helped her finish preparing the food and set the table for dinner. Then it dawned on me that David was absent.

"Where's David?" I asked.

"Visiting his folks" She said in a matter of fact tone.

I gawked at her with a mystified look on my face.

Nicole saw the confusion and elaborated by telling me that his parents refused to accept her because of her skin color. She continued by saying that they were an old money, Main Line family and wanted him to marry someone of similar breeding.

"Main Line, does that have something to do with drugs" I asked stupidly.

Nicole's face lit up with laughter and she explained that most of the oldest and wealthiest families in Philadelphia lived in that exclusive area.

"You're a character Cindy." She said with laughter in her voice and I laughed along with her.

We heard the front door open and in walked David, who greeted me very warmly. It was the first home cooked meal I had in several months and, at Nicole and David's urging, I stuffed myself. The wine flowed freely and I was a little tipsy by the time we cleared the table.