Sensuality

Chapter 1 - A Manicure and much more

Helene's Story

I was on top of the world metaphorically and physically. In my hand I fingered my first pay slip as 'Assistant Executive Secretary' to Mr. Hetherington. After four years in the typing pool -- that terribly nondescript open-plan area with no windows -- I now had my own small office on the fourteenth floor, a panoramic vista to the south of the city and the ocean, and a key to the female senior staff rest room...

The intercom buzzed. "Miss Marsden, may I see you for a moment?"

Miss Hammond, my superior and secretary to the managing director, had been firm but direct in her dealings as she oriented me in my responsibilities, finally placing a thick 'Employee Manual' in my trembling hand. I wondered what she wanted now.

"So, how does it feel, seeing a three figure reward for your first fortnight up here?" she smiled at me encouragingly, leaning back in her executive chair.

"I was just thinking, 'on top of the world'. Those years down there grinding away in the 'pool', night school studies, and finally my business degree," I pointed to the view from her window. "The fourteenth floor, and this."

"Hmm. What are your commitments . . ." Then, she threw up her hands and said, "Oh, look, this seems too stuffy, me here and you the other side of the desk. Let's go and have a coffee in the sitting room."

The executive sitting room was normally reserved for the managing director, chief executive officer and important company visitors, but other staff on this floor had access provided it wasn't being used or required by these 'higher ups'.

I stirred a thick dob of cream into the cup which had been set before me by a neatly attired pantry maid and grinned at my 'boss', "I'll be able to afford more nice coffees, clothes, makeup."

"Miss Marsden . . . Oh," she frowned, "I can call you Helene here, and please, when we're off duty, as it were, call me Gertrude."

"Thank you." I nodded my agreement, but was a little surprised by this sudden easy familiarity from someone who in the beginning had seemed unapproachable.

"Now, Helene, you realize that a certain standard of dress is required by someone in your position. I'm not suggesting that what you've worn to date isn't excellent or appropriate, but you might think about expanding your wardrobe so that you can 'ring the changes' throughout the week."

"Yes," I said, "that's the first on my agenda. The next item is splurging on a nice hair-do. Do you mind me asking where you have yours done?"

"I'm not sure if . . ." She pondered briefly, "They're expensive, but after the first two or three visits you receive a 'Valued Customer' card which gives you some special perquisites."

"How expensive?" I asked tentatively. She named a figure and I winced.

"I know what I'll do," she added, seeing my alarm. "I'll recommend you, I've been going there for ages now. Maybe they'll give you a special deal."

"I had thought of treating myself, you know, cut, shampoo and set, a facial and a manicure."

"Well, if you plan on having all that done you could take their 'Starter Package'. It includes them all and you'd get your card straight away."

We talked for another half hour on the enjoyment she found from her regular visits to this salon. Then it was time to catch up with the pile of incoming emails which I knew the managing director would be sending from the conference.

"Oh," I suddenly thought, "Miss Hamm.... Gertrude, you haven't told me the name of the place."

"Sorry, Helene. I really did get carried away singing their praises, didn't I? It's 'UniSexSensuality', just around the corner from here, you can't miss it and," she paused at the door to her office and smiled at me, "their coffee is really great."

As I walked out of the building three hours later, instead of making straight for the bus station, my footsteps seemed to be attracted 'around the corner' to see what this place with the intriguing name was like.

The frontage was of smoke-tinted thick plate glass with the logo in silver leaf 'UniSexSensuality' and beneath it 'A WORLD OF PLEASURE IN YOUR HEAD'. But the first letter of the "IN" was the Greek letter Phi... that circle with the vertical line through it seemed out of place... then my brain clicked into gear...

A WORLD OF PLEASURE IN/ON YOUR HEAD'.

At that moment an impeccably suited hairdresser, wearing charcoal bellbottoms and a flared lavender toned jacket, popped her head around the door. "You're admiring our sign. You're about the tenth person this afternoon," she smiled.

"Actually, I'm thinking of coming in."

"Well, come on in, you can sit and relax in comfort while you think instead of getting sore feet on that hot pavement. I'm Monica by the way."

I had noticed the embroidered name in deep purple on her jacket, but as she offered her hand to me I responded. "Helene Marsden. You're right. The pavement is hot . . . after working in air-conditioned comfort all day."

I walked across the black and white chequered tile floor to a plush leatherette settee. Monica handed me a smartly formatted brochure with the salon logo on the top and a dozen high class photos of customers enjoying the various services they offered here.

"Were you interested in anything specific, Helene?"

"I've just spent the first fortnight in my recently promoted position and I was considering a splurge, you know, maybe something like 'the works'. Cut, shampoo and set, facial and a manicure."

"Mmm. sounds adventurous. Would you like a coffee while we talk?"

"Just a small one, white and one sugar please." I scanned the brochure while Monica busied herself at the small coffee machine in the corner. The aroma tantalized my nostrils and when at last she set the fine china cup in front of me, I inhaled hungrily. "That smells divine." I sipped, "it tastes even better, I could get high on this!"

She chuckled. "It's our own special brand, from Columbia. Of course they do have some other very special things there you really can get high on."

"Like coca -- cocaine, and don't they have a cactus, pey-something?"

"Mmm. Peyote, a real mind bender, but don't worry," she said, pointing to my cup, "that's just coffee."

"I suppose now I've drunk your coffee I get the high powered sales pitch?"

Monica looked at me in mock horror. "Helene!" She took my hand in hers and her touch was gentle, seductive almost. I'd never been 'turned on' by a woman or had the slightest leaning in that direction but here I was wondering what it would be like.

"No sales pitch is necessary here, Helene. We stand, sit, or lie on our reputation. I have the feeling that someone told you about 'UniSexSensuality', am I right?"

"Right on. Miss Hammond."

"Oh our Gertie! She's one of our oldest customers . . . I mean she's been coming here for about five years now."

"She is, I suppose, rather on the oldish side."

"True, but in some ways even at fifty-five she has the vivacity of a twenty year old. Have you noticed that?"

In the time I'd had to observe my superior on the fourteenth floor the description 'clicked'. Gertrude Hammond exuded a freedom bordering on the sensual, power-suited as an executive secretary she might be, but she came across as all woman and I had noticed that even younger men responded to her in that way.

I nodded slowly. "I wonder how she does it. I hope when I'm her age . . ."

"That's a long way ahead, Helene. Remind me what you were thinking about just now, out there on the pavement?"

"I guess the 'phi' grabbed all my attention. I did some Greek, Plato and Aristotle. I think Plato's ruminations on what is reality are interesting: what we see, is it there, or are we just experiencing it . . . seeing the figures in the cave and all that."

"Yes, what is sensation, sensory experience, and what is real. Does it bother you, not knowing what you feel, maybe feeling something your mind tells you is there, or even your mind telling you it is not there, 'ignore this -- it's not happening'?"

"I guess I've come to accept -- after those rather boring business studies -- that what we can measure, package, write down on paper is a kind of reality. But that doesn't account for feelings."

"You're so right, Helene. So how do you feel about here? Do you get any vibes? Is the ambience right for you?"

"We -- ell, I'll tell you that when you tell me how what I want equates with what's in my fortnightly pay packet."

"It sounds to me as if you'll want a whole lot done. Hmm. we can put together a package out of this for you. You could have the manicure today, that's if you have time now, then we'll book you for the remainder on another day. How's that?"

"How much?"

Monica named a figure which was a little below what I'd expected. "And you'd go straight on to our VC card. Customers such as you add a certain cachet to our business. I can say to folk 'oh did you know that Miss so-and-so comes to us for her treatments'."

It was all sounding a little unreal to me, but I knew I wouldn't find a better deal anywhere else, and if Miss Hammond regularly patronized this 'UniSexSensuality' salon who was I to quibble or argue? So I pulled out my purse and started to count banknotes.

"No Helene, we'll invoice you and you can pay at the end of the month, now what say we get your manicure under way?"

The chair was one of those you just seem to ooze into, but it also had inbuilt massage pads and a little console so you could adjust things to your maximum comfort. As Monica took my hand she pointed to the controls. "Slip your high heels off and rest your feet. That blue one will massage your arches and I guess your calves could so with some gentle work, the green one. Lean back and relax, you can try out the others as you get accustomed to things."

I felt as if I was floating away, the soft upholstery, Monica's soft touch on my right hand and fingers, the fruity aroma of the solvent as she removed old lacquer.

"Would you like another coffee, Helene? It might help you stay awake, you were drifting off there into never land," Monica chuckled.

"Mmm. I do feel rather dreamy and this chair is heaven, but the background music just seems to infuse life into me, it's quite a contrast of perceptions."

"I'm glad you like it. Now, Lee-Anne will put your coffee on your right, and there's a straw to drink it through. I don't want you spoiling those beautiful nails. Let's look at this other hand. The ring?"

"A friendship ring. Tom and I met at the works party. He's in marketing. He seems to be very serious about me so far."

I gave myself over to Monica's ministrations, lulled by the gentle movements of the massage pads. The flavour of the coffee was something like I'd never tasted. It didn't only keep one awake, it seemed to put an edge on all the nerve endings of the body.

. . . 'Tingle in your fingers' . . . I couldn't think from where that line came into my head but the work being done on my hands, fingers and nails set me aglow not only down there, but right up my arms . . .

"Hey, wake up sleepy head, you're done."

Monica's friendly voice roused me from what felt like a deep slumber. I glanced at my watch. Six thirty gone! I must have registered shock and amazement.

"My bus..."

"You're on public transport? Hey, don't worry. From the address you gave me I can drop you off. Now Helene, we can schedule your hair appointment and facial for Monday. Will five o'clock do for you again? We'd probably be finished by seven thirty, eight at the latest?"

"That late? Maybe I could get Tom to call here for me."

Later, when Monica dropped me outside the block of flats where I lived, I ran over the sequence of events which had occurred in the last two hours. That coffee, it tasted so wonderful, it seemed it had lifted me to another plane of awareness. And Monica, I was not attracted to her really, but she appeared to be able to make me aware of some tactile realities I'd missed. I'd never felt the touch of another person setting my whole upper limb aglow.

There was so much I remembered and the recollection engendered a need. There was an emptiness in me as if I wanted more. Then arriving back here driven by Monica in her snazzy red Porsche... had I really given her my address? That I couldn't remember, but that coffee!

* * *

Monica's Story

Helene had obviously enjoyed her experience, especially the 'topping' -- my taking her home in my latest acquisition. Working at UniSexSensuality had proved not only enjoyable for me but profitable. On my return to the salon I sat down at the computer, opened the new file and finalized the details we had obtained:

Name: Helene Marsden, Single 24 Contact: G Hammond Visit 1 4 February 5 -- 6.30pm Manicure Sensualize Dose: 2 x 50milligrams Narcotisation 30 minutes 5ft 6in tall Hips 34 Waist 29 Bust 36D Bush auburn, thick Virgin Partial Hymen, vestibule obscured, vagina entered 2 centimeters Lift given: 1 x 30milligram Arousal

"Sensualize" was the peculiar additive which made our coffee taste so superb, but it also had the effect of making the subjects suggestible, removing moral restraints so that they were openly responsive to any sexual activity. At the conclusion they would only remember the enjoyable sensations of the experience, but not what was actually done, or by whom where.

Helene did not realize it, but she had enjoyed a 30 minute snooze while we carried out our investigations of her lovely young body and it was during this period she had volunteered me so much information.

With that beautiful body she was not only a virgin and completely untried, she was so far very much a sexual 'babe', never having even skirted the pleasurable paths and experiences which existed in the 'woods' between her thighs.

We always tried to give our clients a "Lift" by sending them home with another 'souvenir' of their visit to UniSexSensuality, This was of course the tiny Arousal capsule placed high in their vagina at the end of the procedure they had enjoyed. The results when followed up were always most "illuminating"!

It had been an experience for me to see how quickly she had surrendered to the subtle influences of our background music after being dosed. I could picture her now, lying in her bed, reliving the experience of the last two hours while the gel coating on the 'Arousal' capsule in her vagina dissolved. By now it would be releasing its powerful constituents onto the sensitive lining of her little tunnel and coursing through her bloodstream.

I looked at the clock. Eight pm. She'd said it was her intention to be in bed by this time. So far, she had said, the vibrator Tom had given her had sat in the drawer of her bedside table, hardly used, other than tentatively stimulating her nipples. Now, I pictured her lying there, the drug running through the tracts of her brain, finding the 'X' centre and triggering all those parasympathetic responses which make us sexual beings.

The phone beside the computer rang and I lifted it.

"Monica, how did you go, did she attend?"

"On the dot of five Gertie. She's lovely. It will be heaven working with her."

"Did she enjoy the coffee, how far did you get with her?"

"Oh, she loved it, took two 'small' ones. We were able to do a full exam on her, other than the vaginal measurements, the marvelous little love button is just screaming to be pressed. She has a partial hymen, no real problem, but I'm sure that is being attended to right now."

"By the boy friend?"

"No, he gave her a six by three quarter inch vibrator a while back. It's pretty well still untried, but I think the Arousal capsule will be quietly doing its work."

"Mmm. It will be interesting to talk to her on Monday when I see her at the office."

"Oh, Gertie we have her booked down for the facial and a cut, shampoo and set for Monday at five. Do you think she could have an early?"

"I'll let her off at four thirty. That will give you more time and I'll be able to join you."

"We'll see you then. Goodnight."

* * *

Helene's Story:

The whole experience of the past two hours had been superb for me. My mind was in a twist trying to put superlatives to how I had felt, that wonderful coffee, like nothing I had ever tasted, the gentle humming massaging of my feet and calves, my whole torso teased by the chair, and Monica's touch, those tingling feelings right up to my shoulders. I shuddered with pleasure at the memory as I undressed and readied myself for bed.

Tom had offered to come around tonight but I had fobbed him off for once. I thought that the demands of my first couple of weeks in the new job would have drained me, but now this evening I regretted it.

For some reason, and I couldn't understand why, I was starting to feel damp between my legs. I put my hand down there and discovered that the crotch of my pyjama pants was soaking. Along with the dampness was another sensation, as if my pubic area was crying out to be touched.

I'd hardly used the vibrator Tom had given me. Not only did it seem a 'mechanical' way of enjoying sexual feelings, but my country upbringing and my staid - almost Quaker-ish mother's views in regard to such matters had been a barrier to such explorations.

Guiltily I slid open the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the long black plastic cylinder. A slight turn of the base had it humming gently. I jumped at the feeling as it touched my tummy, then I gingerly slid it closer to my curly auburn forest.

The messages from the spot between my legs were now deafening so, taking my courage and the vibrator in my two hands, I edged it closer to the furrow between my outer lips. By now I discovered that I was moaning with the pleasurable sensations it was creating down there.

Almost of its own volition the tip moved like a guided missile to the little opening where my monthly discharge came from, then it was pressing against the narrow orifice, pressing, pressing, and pressing, until I felt as if someone had slid a knife down my private parts.

Now the vibrator slid into me easily. Deeper, ever deeper, into the slick tunnel which I'd only seen so far in books on girls' education. My insides now seemed to be revolving with the buzz and my moans were turning to grunts and groans as muscles I never knew I had inside clenched and relaxed.

'Tingling in your fingers . . .' the line came back to me but now the tingling was all around my pubic area, the whole lower part of my tummy was shivering and fluttering with excitement and moisture was dripping out of me. Still I needed more . . .

I turned the base around further and almost leaped off the bed as the buzzing intensified and a new sensation gripped me. Two images jostled for attention in my mind: in one I was hanging by my fingertips at the edge of a cliff, in the other I had been strapped onto a rocket sled and someone's finger was hovering over the 'Fire!' button . . .

In an ecstatic moment I let go and the rocket fired. First I was heading down, drowning in a tumultuous whirlpool of sensual pleasure, dizzying sensations swirling around me, then, just as if it seemed my feet would touch the bottom I shot out, broke surface and screamed upwards through a kaleidoscope of flashing lights toward the stars . . .

And I screamed.

When I eventually stopped screaming I just lay there. The vibrator was still deep inside me, its high pitched buzz audible in the sudden quiet. The bed linen was soaked and there was a soreness high up between my legs.

Had I done all this? How come I'd even had the courage to put it down there? Even more, to push it inside me. Maybe that was what the soreness was?

Somehow I now felt different, very different. I knew that if Tom had been with me now I'd have no inhibitions about him unfastening the buttons of my blouse, reaching behind me to unclip my bra then removing it and caressing my breasts. I shuddered with anticipation at the thought. Tom had wanted to do that a number of times but I'd called a halt. But I wondered also if, as I felt now, I'd let him go 'all the way' with me, letting him take off my knickers too and . . .