Zitas New Apartment Ch 02

A minute later, I was slipping back into the apartment, as quietly as I could. I heard rock music coming from the back hallway, and I gained new hope that Kell hadn't heard my performance downstairs. I went and retrieved my application from where I had left it on the table - being sure to force a nonchalant demeanour as I came into view of the window, striding confidently, head up, shoulders back - and clutched it to my chest. I had decided not to submit it. True, I had just had the most enjoyable sex of my life, but it was clear to me that this whole scene was too strange for me. I wanted a return to normalcy. At the very least to think about things.

Unfortunately, Kell had my clothes. Holy fucking shit, how had I gotten myself into such a mess? What had just happened to my life? Was I a lesbian? It didn't seem right to say it, or to think it, but was I not evidently bisexual now, at least? Had I always been? I hadn't thought so. Sure girls were pretty, but every girl sees when other girls are pretty, don't they? Like I said before, I never really felt a sexual appetite for a woman, before Kell. Well, okay, maybe there was that woman on the beach, the one I recalled for Kell. I did entertain a naughty thought or two about her, but come on, that's normal from time to time. And she was such a tease too: you should have seen the baited winks she gave me. But mainly she was all tits; that was her appeal. Why just that once? Was I feeling particularly carefree on that vacation, away from home, from anyone I knew? Did I let my guard down?

While I was thinking all this, I was standing naked in full view of the window, which I decided was a bad idea. I didn't see anyone in the street, but I was no longer so keen on taking chances. So I went down the back hallway to search for Kell and my clothes. I knew which room was hers from the music. Her door was slightly ajar. I pushed it a bit and peered in, knocking softly.

She had thrown on a short black skirt and a dark silk blouse, open in the front but for where the flanks were knotted together just below her breasts. She was lying on her back on her bed with a textbook hoisted over her face and her knees pointing up at the ceiling. The skirt had ridden up a good portion of its already abbreviated length. More revealing was the bold presentation of her cleavage provided simply by virtue of her orientation on the bed, with her head more or less towards me. I could even see the edge of her left nipple emerging from the loose, insubstantial silk as it tried to slough off her body onto the sheets. I had thought my mind had returned to relative sanity after the release of orgasm, but I was finding myself succumbing again, even as she lay there nearly motionless. What I mean is that I found myself thinking: Gawd, is she hot! And my mind seemed to have been softened up for such thoughts, because it took root immediately upon looking at her and seemed to bloom with little resistance. What a sight, that nipple! How had I never appreciated such things before? But no, this wasn't me; I wasn't myself. I was not a lesbian, and I didn't want to be. It occurred to me that in my experience with the woman on the stairs, I hadn't actually DONE anything. I may have been the benefactor of that sexual act, but I was no participant. Yes. Yes, and it was best to keep it that way. I really had no desire to be gay, and I was becoming increasingly afraid of toying around with acting gay. I had always been satisfied with penises, and I certainly wasn't looking to change that.

"Oh, Zita, I didn't hear you there." Kell laid the book on the bed and rolled over onto her stomach, her elbows. Her boobs hung down low onto the mattress, with an airy gap between them. I could see almost everything about them but not the nipples, anymore.

"Kell," I squeezed out, "I've decided that the room...probably...isn't...for me."

I'm not sure what reaction I expected, but I was shocked at the face she made. It was cross in a way that made me feel petulant, bored in a way that made me feel stupid, provocative in a way that made me feel impotent. "Zita." I don't know what she meant by that; she had just stated my name, totally flat. "Did you fill it out?"

"Yes."

"Just give it to me."

"But I don-."

"Shut up." It was a curt, harsh, contemptuous instruction, and I complied essentially involuntarily, simply from the shock. "Don't talk. Talking will be nice when you can manage something intelligent to say, but we're choosing you because you're absurdly beautiful, and all you really need to do right now is to continue looking good. Which I'm glad to see you are certainly doing." As she had so many times by then, Kell looked my naked body over. "You have a perfect figure, Zita; you're the ideal itself. And beyond pretty, too." She shook her head at the wonder of me. "Amazing. So stop talking, continue looking absolutely superlative, and give me the fucking application. Don't think, you dumb bitch, just do it!"

I have issues. My first issue: why did I actually like being denigrated by Kell as a 'dumb bitch'? What the fuck? My second issue: why was my overall impression after that sermon that Kell liked me? Why was I a little bit proud after it? Because I had ideal tits? Gawd. My third issue: what happened to my will? When Kell slid off the bed and came up to me and took the application, and then guided me with her other hand to bend over the foot of the bed, and then slapped me repeatedly and smartly on my ass, why didn't I put a stop to it? Of course, eventually it became too late. They were hurting more than ever, but with each slap, a queer jubilation was growing. I began sighing, and then moaning. When Kell heard me, she stopped.

"Ahh, I see you like that, you shameless pussy," she said. Then without warning, she darted a finger between my legs, in and out of my cunt, just once. I thought I had imploded. "Look at this juice," she said. "You're overripe! You must be dying for Fedora to come home and fuck you."

"No," I whispered.

She grabbed my hair hard, close to the scalp. "Did I say you could talk yet?"

I shook my head what little I could.

She leaned overtop of me and kissed me gently just before my ear. "Good girl." Then she turned my head forcibly by the hair and made me kiss her full on the lips. My mouth was already open before she even tried to put her tongue in. I was obviously desperate for her. She was the hottest thing since hell, to my eyes. And she was fully aware that I thought so.

So she pulled back on my hair and held our lips but a few centimetres apart. Close enough that we were breathing into each other's mouths but far enough that we couldn't touch. "My oh my," she said facetiously, "you really want to fuck me, don't you?" I felt the words puffing against my lips. The sides of our noses alighted briefly, slid off each other. Still she held me off. I didn't dare speak, but I was telling her with my eyes.

"You can say it if you want."

"Yes," I breathed.

"Whatever happened to you not being a lesbian?"

"Fuck that."

"Oh?" She was amused.

"Yeah."

"You want to taste pussy?"

"Yeah."

"You want to slide that pretty mouth all around some girl's genitals? You want to feel the inside of her with your tongue?" She said it like it was unappetizing, but it sounded absolutely delicious to me.

"Yes! Gawd yes!"

She yanked my head back and released me. But by the time I had gotten back to where her lips had been, she was standing up, looking down at me. Never breaking eye contact, she stretched the silk from her right breast and lodged it underneath. The sex-goddess' tit, right there. "Try me out," she suggested, "if you want to be a dyke. I don't mind."

Needless to say, I thrust myself off the bed and sealed my lips around her nipple like a suction cup. Oh, it was heavenly. She was so beautiful, so smooth, so soft. I loved the vaguely salty taste of her skin, her gentle odour. Her nipple sprang out like a pebble in my mouth. It and my tongue had great fun together. I put my hand under her breast and lifted it where it drooped, felt the weight of it in my palm. I don't know what I had been thinking when I said she wasn't beautiful. She was nothing else. She was my new definition of beauty. I lapped and kissed my way around her cone. I buried my nose in her armpit, to saturate my nostrils with her sweatiest scent. And through it all was the intoxicating knowledge that I wasn't supposed to like this, that it was sinful and embarrassing, and that I was throwing myself into it anyway.

"You're a better bitch than I thought," chuckled Kell. But she pushed me back so that I stumbled into sitting again on the bed. "Maybe I'll have you do a little bit more than cook my meals." She dislodged her blouse and let it cover her breast again. "For now, have a look in my closet and pick out the sexiest thing you can find. Fedora's a bit late, and I expect she'll be hungry, so we're going to go out for dinner as soon as she gets home. Your own clothes are in there, by the way, if you want to throw them on and run away from here as fast as you can." She eyed me in her most alluring way, which was, to say the least, well beyond the capabilities of the average woman. "But are you really going to run away from me, Zita?"

I shook my head. Then suddenly she was all business, and was heading out of the room.

I took a look in the closet. There were a lot of sexy outfits in there, in every category from lingerie to sweaters to sarongs. And indeed, my own clothes were neatly folded together on the shelf. I suspended my hand over them, but would not touch them, it turned out. I was already absorbing the idea of wearing Kell's clothes, her bras, her panties. As perhaps you can imagine by now, I was terrified but I wanted to. So I surveyed all her lingerie and selected the most revealing, most delicate - practically gossamer - panties, which were pink, and then I chose a matching bra. Unfortunately, there was no way the bra was going to fit comfortably, so I had to give up on that. I knew I cut rather a better figure without it anyway. Instead, I considered a pink satin slip with a very, very low neckline, but when I got in on, I saw that it was a bit too long on my rather short frame to wear under any of Kell's skirts. It was nearly a dress in itself but that the neckline plunged all the way to the bottom of my breasts, and the material, the straps, and the trim were all too thin, too delicate, and too snug around my rounder parts to be worn outside the bedroom. In particular, my nipples were determined not to be upstaged.

While I stood there in this slip, I heard the front door open and Kell came back into the room. "Perfect," she cooed, enormously and disturbingly pleased. Let's go say hi to Fedora."

"No, but I'm not done."

"Yes you are. You look incredible."

"But for going out -."

"It would hardly be fun for me to take you out in a habit, Zita. Tonight I'll be showing you off." She gripped my neck with her palm. "We both know you like it anyway."

"Hello!" we heard Fedora call from the front room. Kell smiled and gestured for me to go and greet her. With Kell's palm still on my neck, I preceded her out into the hallway. I can't pretend she was actually physically forcing me; her grip was firm but really quite gentle. So I went out to greet Fedora of my own accord.

"Hi," I chirped, a bit ridiculously. Fed looked turned out of the hall closet and almost fainted, I suppose. It was very clear even in that one moment that she was nothing like Kell. She actually seemed embarrassed, and then so did I.

"Uh - hello again," she said, and she reached out to shake my hand. I obliged, and hell, but there was something exhilarating in that politest of touches, no doubt owing to my being overtly bedroom clad, and to her being an outed lesbian. The ginger contact of her fingers did not fail to make an impression on me - nor did my outfit fail to impress her. I was watching for it and I saw when she stole her glances at my cleavage - or perhaps those glances were at my nipples. Probably both. They didn't make the latter any less hard, that's for sure. "Have you moved in already?" she asked.

"No, not yet," Kell interjected, stepping up beside me. "But I asked her to pick something from my closet so we can all go out to dinner, to celebrate her accepting our offer. How about sushi?"

Fedora seemed to be studying Kell carefully. "Well, I love sushi," she said. Then she turned to me, with an entirely different, delicate manner. "Will you be ready in ten minutes?"

"Well, actually, I'm ready now."

It seemed like she was trying to conceal it, but I definitely saw Fedora's surprise, and I definitely saw her glance once again at my attire, as I suppose she was compelled to do. Her mouth was slightly open, but she wasn't much trying to get any words out. Her warm, dark brown pupils found their way to my "enormous" blue ones, and then suddenly we were "sharing a moment". It went on just a tiny bit, but I became frightfully aware very quickly that we were, in fact, fucking with our eyes. It was just like George had described. Don't ask me what made us do it, or what made us know it, but we were doing it, and I had no doubt that we both understood. I broke it off, in shock, with a docile look to the carpet. I think Fed did likewise after.

"Uh, okay, great," she stammered. "In that case, I guess I better change into something sexier." She said it shyly, as it was clearly a compliment. "I'll be quick." She smiled bashfully and went between us, back to her room.

Kell gave me an insinuating look, and was loving it. She sidled up to me and took up the satin of my slip between her fingers. "I have some pink pumps that will go great with this." Then she put her left foot alongside my right. They were very close. "You'll manage."

When Fedora came out, at much impatient prompting from Kell, I was surprised. She had let loose her hair and put on some choice makeup, and she was really very beautiful. She also had a genuine, inclusive smile that gave her a kind of attractiveness completely unattainable by Kell. My first thought on her clothing was that she'd gone conservative about her breasts, but then she repositioned her little scarf and I thought again. She was wearing a dark blue blouse with a wide collar, unbuttoned enough to leave no doubt about her assets: Fedora had big, round melons, and imperial cleavage. Below, she had chosen a short - but not shamefully short - skirt that held her rather tightly. At thirty-four (as I would learn), she was still a slender, though fortuitously voluptuous, woman.

I didn't dare meet her eyes for long after I took all this in and stumbled on her modest smile. But I was smiling too, while I insisted on looking away, and I suppose she must have liked that.

Kell didn't miss her opportunity to prompt me. "Oooh," she sang, "doesn't she look gorgeous, Zita?"

"Certainly," I agreed, and even though I had tried to sound judicious, this inevitably led to Fed and I sharing another moment. Maybe it was her innocent smile, but I dared to let it go a little longer this time, and she was willing. I felt a nervous fluttering-up in between my lungs and that's when I stopped.

Kell would be driving us in her tiny car, and she preceded us out of the house. Fedora came abreast - great word for it here - as I passed through the main door, to hold it open for me. Her chin was kind of over my shoulder as she said, "you look gorgeous," in the most tenuous, unaffected way. I realized she didn't know I knew she was a lesbian, and she was flattering me safely within the bounds of common girl-girl chatter. "Thanks," I said, meaning it, and I turned my head to her and found our cheeks very close. She had put on perfume, as had I. I rather liked her smell.

I was also aware of the proximity of her body, because I could feel the subtle interaction of her blouse and my slip. I see now that I was a hopelessly confused and naughty girl, because rather than hurrying on through the door, I slowed my pace as I turned to her, just enough that she inadvertently advanced a little closer. The manoeuvre was successful: I felt her bosom press softly against my arm, my shoulder blade. Of course, I acted as if nothing had happened, thereby passing the whole thing of as accidental, and even inconsequential. But I was fairly sure when I saw her face that it was not inconsequential for her.

Anyway, I needed something else to say to excuse my slowing down, so I said: "I like your blouse." I looked down at it then (as was only natural), whereupon I discovered that, with our being so close, I was looking straight down the neck of it, straight into that bosom that was still nestled against my arm. Fed had made and would make no motion to pull it away; she seemed content to have it there as long as I permitted, which was quite excusable since it had been my fault and I didn't seem concerned about it. I knew right away that I had accidentally turned my dubious flirtation into something so brazen and so suggestive as to be a pass, but I had no idea what to do about it. I hadn't meant to be so forward - I wasn't really ready for it.

I didn't give Fed a chance to respond. I just pulled away from her and continued to the car. I heard her locking the door behind me hurriedly, and then the click-click of her heels as she trotted after us - or rather, me. I kind of wanted to flee, but she was so sweet and thoroughly kind, I had to slow and turn a bit as she caught up. We were always smiling at each other, whether it was just the mildest hint of camaraderie or a shy but unguarded invitation.

"So you're a student?" she began as we walked to the curb.

"Yes. It's my second year."

"Music?"

"What? No. Why music?"

"I don't know, there just seem to be a lot of beautiful girls in music." I could see that she was pushing herself against her natural insecurity with these flattering comments. They were effective, though, I have to admit, and I guess all the more for the resistance they were evidently overcoming. I thought back to Leigh, my swim buddy, the shy girl who was always greatly admiring of my body and who had hung around me enough that I forgot she wasn't my friend and realized I liked her. I always pretended to be tired of her compliments, but I never was. I told her she was cute once, and I suspect she went home and masturbated to the idea of me - probably for the umpteenth time - that night. She was like 4'9" and had no tits at all, but she certainly was cute. I suppose I liked her rather a lot, really. I missed her.

"Uh, well thanks again," I stammered to Fedora. "But I'm not in music. You're right though. I've noticed a lot of pretty girls take music, for some reason."

"Oh?" She was fishing.

"Yeah. I wonder why." I was definitely not going to give her any more than that. We were on the sidewalk now, making our way along to Kell's car.

"Well, what ARE you taking?"

"Actually, biology." I shrugged at her. She had told me she was a biologist when we met earlier that day.

"Good choice!" She laughed.

"And you know, we beautiful girls aren't so rare in biology either."

"Heavens no, you aren't. I could be your T.A., you know. Actually, I could be your instructor if you took BIO346 next year."

"I just might. That could be fun."

"Well, you haven't seen me teach."

"No, but at least you're nice. And not too bad to look at," I added jokingly. I figured she'd earned that much from me, anyway.

Kell was at the car now, standing in the street with the driver's door open. I was expecting that Fedora would take shotgun, but she laid her hand on my forearm and said she'd go around to the other side. There was no reason for her to go around to the other side unless we were both going to sit in back, which seemed conspicuous and strange to me. But she went around and was watching me, smiling of course, and I would have felt terrible sitting up front, though I almost did nonetheless. Almost. As I slipped into the back seat beside Fed, I saw that both she and Kell were highly pleased, though in markedly different ways.