Part Two of Story Posting (2 of 2 parts) "Orientation Day"
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"This is Anna," I said. "And that's Cindy over there." Both girl's waved in greeting, although neither got up. In the volcanic confines of our cracker-box little sauna, waving was plenty enough. Both girl's were naked.
Looking first at the two girls, then at the closed but easily-opened cedar door behind her, Jen raised an eyebrow.
"Don't worry," I said. "It's Friday. Guys are strictly verboten."
"Oh," she said, as if this explained it all.
I filled her in. "Monday, Wednesday and Friday's the sauna is ours. Sunday's, Tuesdays, and Thursday's the boys get to use it. Saturday we share and share alike."
"Oh," she said again.
To prove what I said, I took off my towel and dropped it on a bench. Then, purposely crossing to where Anna and Cindy sat naked on the bench opposite, I sat down beside them. Cindy, and then Anna leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. Jennifer only stared.
"It's okay," Anna said. "Come and sit down."
Jennifer gave one long, stiptic blink, then unwrapped her towel. Both girls ogled her breasts. I patted the bench beside me and both girls watched as Jen tip-toe cautiously--and quite self-consciously--across the box and sit down on my right. She then slid sideways against the adjacent wall because four on the short bench were too many. I slid over and joined her.
"You're Jennifer, right?" Cindy asked.
"Uh-huh." She tried to relax, keeping her eyes in neutral territory; they wanted to roam. Of the three of us present, only Jennifer had pubic hair. Anna, Cindy, myself as well, all were baby-smooth. And though I sat with my legs discreetly closed, Anna and Cindy sat with them fully splayed. Worse, Anna--always the tease--was a little bit red.
Jen shifted enough to batten her legs.
"Relax," I said sympathetically. "You're among friends."
She smiled gamely.
We had showered side by side in the small, white-tiled shower room, self-consciously at first, then with an open awareness. I kept Herbal Essence shampoo and conditioner in my locker, for when I worked out, and both of us used it.
Pouring a dollop out in my palm, I lathered up not my own hair, but Jen's. I worked her shoulder-length tresses into a thick ball atop her head, then let it fall down in her face. She sputtered in surprise, and squealed as soap got in her eyes, which tickled us both. Then she did my long black hair and for a time, with her strong but delicately kneading fingers on my scalp and tangled in my hair, I thought just being shampooed might make me come.
We kissed and held each other gently beneath the spray. First under her shower, and then under mine--share and share alike.
By mutual agreement we had decided to do more that kiss. The rest would come that night, with the two of us in bed as we had always dreamed, not groping in some steamy, white-tiled shower. (Although, on hindsight, that actually was a marvelous place.)
When I grinned and lathered soap in my hands, she had grinned right back. "No touching," she had warned. "We promised, remember?"
"No touching," I agreed, lathering her upper chest and then her shoulders and then her biceps and arms. But, oh my God, I certainly looked.
Jen is blonde and blue-eyed where I am black and brown. Jen has an almost flawless complexion; I inherited mine from my father. Jen moves with a delicately awkward grace that makes my eyes want to tear; being pigeon-toed, I clump around. She is thin-nosed, high-cheek boned and has a dimpled in her chin. I have my father's nose and well . . . my father's nose.
At five feet five and one hundred and fifteen pounds, Jen is oddly-shaped. She has these knobbly hip bones that protrude at her waist like a pair of bunched-up knuckles. Her bottom is flat and lacks that oh-so critical heart-shape that turns guys on. Below her small but extraordinary shaped breasts, she bears a rack of ribs that look good enough to eat. Her tummy is flat and so is her lower belly, but you can see the soft bulge of muscle groups running down the middle, which is not so attractive. In a nutshell, this is Jennifer's problem: she's skin and bones.
I, on the other hand, have flesh to spare. I stand five feet five and a half inches tall and weigh one hundred and thirty pounds. My breasts are twice, maybe even three times the size of Jen's but not so pleasingly shaped. Mine sag where her's stand at rigid attention, and where there are stretch marks in places on mine--crinkles, we sometimes call them--Jen has none. Her aureole and nipples tip out the end of her breasts like snow-capped mountain peaks, where mine look like galactic spirals. They are also very big--huge--giving me what a one night stand just after high school indelicately called,"a cross-eyed stare."
So what, you may ask, do guys see in either of us gals? Or other gals in me?
You know.
Stretching out on the bench, I pulled loose the towel from around my head and shook out my hair. Jen did the same. We sat beside one another, finger combing our tangles, me looking unobtrusively--I hoped, unobtrusively--at the spray of yellow hair between her legs. I think she was looking at the identical spot between my legs, but not at any hair.
"So Jen," Anna said before I guessed at her angle: "Sleep well last night? I heard you got a little action before you turned in."
"Cool it, you two!" I said tartly. "Give the kid a break." (What jerk had told, I wondered? Amy? If so, she was in for a paddling.)
Both girls laughed, but it was a laugh of camaraderie, not one of taunt. Jen laughed as well and then we all broke out laughing and laughed so hard that we almost rolled off our seats. Anna did, if fact, and had to be help back up. Then she let out a loud popping fart, clamped her hands over her mouth with huge blue eyes, and we all shrieked again.
"Jesus. . .Jesus," I gasped, wiping my eyes. "That hurts." And indeed it did hurt, because a stitch had invaded my side. I held it as I got up and stretched my muscles. "No more," I begged. "Please, no more," which made things only worse.
Finally, too exhausted and too shaky to do anything but just lay there on the bench, we gasped hot air and rubbed our aching sides. Anna glanced obliquely at Jennifer's breasts, and Cindy did as well. I had fire between my thighs--a real tempest--and wanted Jen between them. I wanted between hers. I so much wanted between hers.
"Hey!" I suddenly croaked.
"What?"
"I'm gonna give you a hickey!"
Shrieking wildly, I quick-snatched her into my arms and attached her defenseless neck. She squealed delightedly with girlish terror and fought to get away.
"Unh-unh!" I grunted, determinedly sucking her flesh. She was mine, and like a vampire, I'd mark her for life.
Backed into the corner with me squatting atop her lap, both wrists clamped in my hands, her struggles quickly gave way to a delighted abandon. I released her neck once I had done enough and admired my handiwork. Already livid and lined with indentations from my teeth, it was a world-class hickey.
"Rachael!" she puffed.
"What?" I laughed back.
Her face was crimson and speckled with sweat. Her chest labored up and down and touched my own laboring chest, nipple to fully erect nipple. "My mother will kill me!" she whined.
That's all I could stand. Gluing my lips to hers, I found her tongue and gave battle to it until my tongue got too sore to move and I continued kissing her anyway.
Suck my breasts! her moaning begged. Suck my breasts and attack my screaming nipples!
I wanted to. I wanted to so badly, but not in there. Not now and not with the other two watching. Jennifer was mine, not to share.
We broke apart and I dropped panting back onto the cedar bench, collapsing beside her. We watched in vivid and open-mouthed fascination as first Anna, and then Cynthia, went to her knees between the other girl's legs and dined.
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It was ten o'clock. The party boomed.
In her blue and white ruffle-front shirt and streaky denim jeans, Jennifer looked rave. Totally rave. I wore a blue and white-striped rugby shirt and zip-back black pants and felt pretty rave myself. She was half-gone on Tangerita's (Tangerey Rum Margarita's) and was dancing and laughing herself silly. I danced with Patty, drinking my Red Bull energy drink and Stolie Vodka and trying not to get drunk. I waited for one o'clock, the agreed upon hour, because at one o'clock, no matter what or who we were doing (ha-ha!), Jen and I would stop it and head off for her room. At one o'clock, I would claim her lesbian cherry as mine.
God, what a cliche.
But oh my God, what a thought . . .
"Are you sure about this?" I shouted at Patty.
Patty's butt was planted in my groin and her arms were snaked around mine; we ground ourselves obscenely together.
"Sure!" she yelled. "You know me!"
