Читать книгу Take Me To Bed - Joan Elizabeth Lloyd - Страница 10

“I have only one word left,” Hank said. “Pussy.” He grinned at Lara and licked his lips. “Anyone else have pussy?”

“Not me,” Brian said. “I haven’t had any good pussy in quite a while. Except Steph’s, of course, but a wife’s pussy doesn’t count.”

Hank refilled the wine glasses and then threw the letter-dice again. “Cunt,” Hank said, triumphantly pointing out the word among the letters before anyone had had time to write anything. “And look. You can make suck and fuck.”

Lara giggled and squeezed Brian’s arm. “Such nice words, don’t you think?” She looked up at Brian and blinked.

Brian looked at Steph, then stroked Lara’s face. “Very nice words.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Hank said. “Let’s play strip-Boggle. The winner is the one with the most dirty words and everyone else has to take off one article of clothing.” He looked at Brian and Steph. “Game?”

Hank was not a particularly good-looking man but the twinkle in his eye and his delightful sense of humor made him attractive. Steph had always been interested in him, but had never before thought about doing anything about it. “Want to?” Brian whispered into Steph’s ear.

Steph thought a minute. Yes, she really did. She gave a tiny nod. “Okay, let’s do it,” Brian said.

After six rounds of the game, the men were down to their socks and shorts, and Lara, who had won three of the rounds, was still wearing her blouse and underwear. Steph had a particular love of delicate undies, and was glad she had worn a black, demi-cup bra with matching lace panties, which, by now, was all she was wearing. “You are one gorgeous woman,” Hank said, admiring the way Steph’s small, yet soft breasts filled the tiny cups. “I knew you’d be sensational without clothes.”

“Not without clothes yet,” Steph said. “I’m not wearing any less than I’d be in a bikini.”

“I know, but it’s knowing that it’s not a bikini that’s such a turn-on,” Hank said.

Brian was gazing silently at Lara’s legs and the dark shadow he could make out through the crotch of her white nylon panties. She also still wore her short-sleeved, flowered blouse. “I feel I’ve been gypped,” he said to Lara. “You’re still decent.”

Lara lowered her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “I’m afraid you won’t have the same thrill. I haven’t nearly the body that your wife has. As a matter of fact, I’m so flat-chested I don’t usually wear a bra. And I’ve certainly got my share of stretch marks from the babies.”

Brian reached over and brushed his hand down the front of Lara’s blouse, feeling her erect nipple rub his palm. “I bet you’re beautiful under there,” Brian said. “Will you take the blouse off, just for me?”

Lara looked at her husband and raised one eyebrow.

“Does everyone understand where this is going?” Hank asked. When everyone nodded, he said, “Then why don’t we separate this party. Lara, you and Brian can have the bedroom and Steph and I will take the guest room.” He rubbed his knuckles down Steph’s cheek. “I want this lady all alone.”

As Brian stood up and took Lara’s hand, Steph swallowed hard. She was suddenly terrified.

“Baby,” Brian said softly, looking at his wife and immediately sensing her discomfort, “this isn’t a command performance. It’s supposed to be fun. You look like a deer caught in the headlights. Talk to me.”

“Did you and Hank set this up? I don’t think it’s as spur of the moment as it might appear.”

“We talked about it,” Brian admitted. “Hank has had the hots for you for a long time, and I know he turns you on. It’s kind of like me and Valerie. I think we will all get pleasure from this evening, but if you don’t want to we can leave right now.”

Steph looked at Lara. “What about you? Did you know about this?” Although the question sounded accusatory, her voice was soft and gentle.

“Hank and I have done this sort of thing a few times. It’s a game, fun and harmless. We have our rules, of course. Things only happen if everyone’s willing and anyone can call things off at any time. And, of course, condoms at all times.”

Steph giggled nervously. Where have I been while all this has been going on?” she asked. “I always thought you two were so conservative.”

“Shows how much you know,” Lara said. She smiled and squeezed Hank’s hand. “We have a few friends who like to play the same games we enjoy.”

Steph took a swallow of her wine and looked at Brian. “You want to do this, don’t you?”

“Only if you do.”

Hank took Steph’s hand and placed it gently on the crotch of his shorts. “I want you very much, and I’d love to show you how good it can be with someone new.”

Steph sighed, torn between the indignation she ought to feel and the excitement that was making her pulse pound. Deciding that she did indeed want this, she relaxed her arm and let Hank use her hand to stroke his cock. She smiled and looked from Lara to Brian. “Why don’t you two go upstairs. I need a few minutes to get comfortable with this and I think Hank is just the one to help me do that.”

Arm in arm, Lara and Brian went upstairs and Hank, clad only in his shorts and socks, sat on the tweed sofa. “Why don’t you come and sit beside me?” Steph moved to the couch and sat with a few inches of space between her and Hank. “Baby, I’ve wanted you for a very long time, but I can wait until you’re ready. I want to touch you and hold you. I want to make you wet and hot.”

Steph sighed and leaned her head on the back of the sofa. Without touching her, Hank rested his head beside hers and spoke softly. “You know what I’d like to do? I’d like to take off that bra and watch your nipples get hard. I’d like to lick them and then blow on the wet skin. Your nipples will get as hard as tiny pebbles.”

Hank watched Steph’s body relax, then warm to the sound of his voice. “Then I’ll take one nipple between my thumb and index finger and pinch it, hard. You’ll think it should hurt, but it won’t. It will make your pussy twitch and you’ll have a hard time keeping your legs together. While I’m pinching one, I’ll take the other in my mouth and bite it gently.”

Steph’s eyes closed as Hank continued. “I’ll alternate, pinching one nipple and sucking and biting the other. Can you feel it, Steph? Can you feel my fingers and my teeth on your breasts? Tell me. Can you?”

“Yes,” Steph said, squirming, unsuccessfully trying to keep her body still.

Hank moved his mouth closer to Steph’s ear, his hot breath adding fuel to her fire. “Oh yes, I know how you feel.” He grasped the snap between the cups of Steph’s bra and unclipped the fastener. As he separated the sides, freeing her breasts, her hard, erect nipples reached for Hank’s mouth. “Like this,” he purred, pinching Steph’s left nipple. “And this.” He pinched the right. “And this.” He leaned over and nipped at her pebbled breast. “So delicious.”

When Steph reached out to touch Hank’s arm, he gently pressed her hand back onto the back of the sofa. “This is entirely for you. I want you to lie there and just enjoy. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

Her voice hoarse and breathless, Steph asked, “What exactly did you imagine?”

He leaned close to her face, his breath hot on the side of her neck. “I imagined breathing into your ear and watching you shiver with pleasure.” He caressed the skin on her cheeks and forehead with the pad of his index finger. “I imagined stroking your face and touching your lips with the tip of my tongue.” He licked the sensitive skin around the edges of her lips until it was almost torture for Steph not to rub the ticklish spot. He brushed his tongue along the joining of her lips until her mouth opened. “And I dreamed of tasting you.” He pressed his mouth against Steph’s until their tongues found each other and played deep inside the sensual depths.

“Oh, baby,” Hank purred when they separated. “I knew it would be this good.”

Steph opened her eyes and gazed at Hank. She should be ashamed of what was happening, but she wasn’t. She was revelling in the sensations and in the knowledge that this wasn’t her husband. This was a sensual man who wanted to make love with her. In the small part of her brain that was still capable of coherent thought, she realized that it was okay. No, she corrected herself. It was wonderful. She smiled.

“Oh yes, baby,” Hank said, almost able to read her mind. “Let me make love to you. Shall we go upstairs to where we can be more comfortable?”

Steph stood and, barefoot, wearing only her tiny, lace panties, she followed Hank upstairs to the guest room. While he ripped the spread off the bed and heaped the covers on the floor, she stood in the center of the room now eager to let Hank make love to her.

Hank turned and allowed his gaze to roam over Steph’s almost-naked body. “I can’t believe this is really happening,” he whispered.

“It is happening,” she purred, feeling sexual power and strength flow through her.

When she started to pull the tiny wisp of lace down over her hips, Hank knelt and took her hands. “Let me do this the way I’ve fantasized.” Then he pressed his mouth against her flat belly, flicking his tongue into her navel. He slowly lowered her undies and inhaled her fragrance. He helped Steph step out of her undies, then nudged her legs apart to make it easier for him to touch and taste and smell her.

He reached his tongue between her legs and pressed it against her swollen clit. He felt her legs tremble. “So excited,” he whispered, standing and scooping her into his arms and gently laying her on the cool sheets. He crawled between her spread legs and lowered his face to her cunt. He blew hot air through her pussy hair, further inflaming her, then brushed his chin lightly against her fur, just barely touching it, watching her hips buck and reach for him. “Tell me now, baby. Tell me how hot you are.”

“Oh God, Hank, I need you so much. I want you.”

“And I want you. My cock is so hard that most of me wants to climb onto you and fuck you until we both come. But I’m going to wait. I’m going to give you more pleasure than you think you can stand.” He brushed her pussy with his finger, then slid the length of her slit, parting her lips but not entering.

“That’s torture,” Steph moaned. She raised her hips but Hank kept his fingers just touching her.

Hank’s laugh was deep and sexy. “Yes. It certainly is.” He pressed just a tiny bit harder so his finger penetrated only a small way.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Oh God.”

Hank tightened his tongue and flicked the tip over Steph’s hard, swollen clit.

With his breath on her skin, his tongue stroking her nub, and his finger rubbing her pussy lips, Steph could hold out no longer. “I’m going to come,” she cried.

As he felt her body begin to spasm, Hank forced three fingers deep into her body and sucked her swollen clit into his mouth.

Waves of liquid heat pulsed through Steph’s body, filling her belly and cunt. He seemed to know just how to rub and lick, when to make it hard and when to stroke. Her orgasm continued for what seemed like hours.

“Hold on to it and don’t let it down,” Hank said as he climbed over her quivering body.

Steph wasn’t sure what he meant, but she concentrated on not relaxing, on reaching for more of the glorious sensations and not letting them ebb. When Hank plunged his fully erect cock into her soaking passage, it triggered more spasms of erotic pleasure. He thrust into her over and over until he climaxed and she came again.

“Lord,” Hank said as his breathing returned to normal. “It was even better than I dreamed.”

“It was fantastic,” Steph said.

Back in the kitchen in Harrison, Jessie listened to her friend’s story with increasing amazement. When Steph sat back on the kitchen chair, Jessie was silent for a long while. “I’m flabbergasted,” she said finally. “I’m…I’m…I don’t know what I am.”

Steph stared into her empty coffee cup. “Horrified? Disgusted?”

“No, of course not.” She got up and poured a fresh cup of coffee for herself and her friend. On the way back to her chair, she gave Steph a quick hug. “Not horrified or disgusted. Surprised and, I guess, a bit curious. Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course. This wasn’t intended as a monologue. I wanted you to know. For lots of reasons.”

Jessie remembered the picture of Steph, draped over the lawn chair. “This obviously wasn’t the only time.”

“Actually, Brian and I are now what you would probably call swingers. We have a wonderful life together, but we also have other relationships.” When she saw Jessie’s eyebrow go up, she said quickly, “None serious. Just playtimes.”

“You have people you go to bed with and Brian does too? Like a lover? It’s not just the occasional couples swapping partners?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Steph wasn’t sure how much Jessie was ready for so she decided just to react to questions for a while. “Right now I have two men with whom I get together from time to time, and Brian is currently seeing a wonderful woman, a systems designer in the computer department at his office.”

“The mind boggles,” Jessie said, then giggled. “That’s how it all started. Boggle, I mean.”

Steph let out a deep breath. She hadn’t been sure of Jessie’s reaction but she had wanted very badly for her best friend to understand. “You’re okay with this?”

Jessie reached across the table and took Steph’s hand. “I’m fine with this, as long as it works for you and Brian. It was the lying that upset me so much before. But you don’t lie to each other. This is all very new to me, but I love you both and you seem very happy.” She pulled back and grew thoughtful. “I guess I never thought about women who make love to other people’s husbands.”

“Hold it,” Steph said. “I never make love to anyone who is married, unless the wife knows what’s going on. No lying. That’s my first and most important rule. No lying. To Brian, to the man involved, or to wives. Period.”

“No lying,” Jessie said softly.

“In my mind, that’s the cardinal sin, the commandment, if you will, that Rob broke with his bimbo, as you call her. He lied to you and he probably lied to himself. It’s the dishonesty that makes me want to wring his scrawny neck.”

“I guess I never looked at it that way, exactly. For me it was two things. The dishonesty, of course, but it was also the fact that I obviously wasn’t good enough for him in bed.” Jessie’s eyes filled and she looked down.

“Bullshit!” Steph put a finger under Jessie’s chin and gently raised her head so the women were looking into each other’s eyes. “Listen to me good, JessicaLynn Hanley, you’re not good or bad in bed alone. If you and scrawny-neck didn’t make it together, it was a mutual failing. Individuals aren’t good or bad at making love. Only couples are.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No ‘yeah but.’ You’re a warm, caring person and you’re as good in bed, or as bad, as the chemistry and communication between you and the man you’re with.” As she looked into her friend’s face, she continued, “Don’t look at me like I just told you that the earth was flat. It’s true.”

“But Rob told me…”

“Rob isn’t the sexpert of all times, you know. Besides, was he ever with anyone else beside you?”

“He says that bimbette was the first,” Jessie said, snuffing.

“What about before you two got married. Was there ever anyone else?”

“No. The first time for both of us was in the front seat of his father’s Pontiac.” Her face softened. “He almost came on my jeans trying to get them open.”

“So what makes him the ultimate judge of sexuality? Certainly not experience.”

“I don’t know. If I were being brutally honest, I’d have to admit that it wasn’t very good. He used to give me a shot of alcohol to ‘loosen me up.’ He said I was uptight and needed to relax.” Her voice dropped and she wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “He said I was frigid.”

“He can say anything he wants, Jessie, but he can’t make you believe it. And I don’t believe it.”

“But I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Jessie’s head jerked up and she was silent for a minute. “I never thought about it that way. You mean there might not be anything wrong with me?”

“Probably not. You’re healthy. No physical problems. No drug abuse. You probably weren’t excited enough to come. I read something a while ago that has stuck in my mind. Someone wrote that a man flames like a match and a woman heats like an iron. That timing requires some coordination. It takes a woman twenty or thirty minutes from a cold start.”

“A cold start.” She laughed. “That’s an unusual way to put it. It makes me sound like an auto engine on a winter morning.”

“Is that such a bad analogy?”

“Maybe not. I was always a cold start. I came to dread sex.”

“Make that forty-five minutes to warm up,” Steph said. “Jessie, relax. You’re fine. It’s scrawny-neck I want to kill.”

“Thanks for that, Steph. You always were a good friend.”

“And I still am. Let’s table this topic for the moment, get dressed up and do some outrageous damage to your credit card at Bloomingdales.”

Jessie took a deep, shuddering breath. “Good idea. You’ve given me lots to think about, and I’d like to continue this discussion another time.”

“Any time, babe. I love to talk about sex.”

Steph and Jessie spent the afternoon shopping. At first, Jessie selected outfits that were conservative and concealing. At one point, however, Steph convinced Jessie to try on a low-cut, Indian-silk sundress with a very full, soft skirt. When her friend came out of the dressing room, Steph grinned. “You look wonderful.” The dress, in shades of soft peach and rose, complemented Jessie’s red hair and sun-warmed complexion.

“I do? Isn’t it a bit much?” She yanked upward on the neckline, trying to minimize her deep cleavage. “I mean isn’t it a bit young for me?”

“Young? Come on. You’re thirty-six years old. That’s young enough for almost anything, except maybe being proofed at a bar. I think you look terrific, and with a little makeup….”

“Don’t get carried away.” She swung back and forth in front of the mirror watching the skirt move with her body. As she watched herself, her smile broadened. “But although it’s not my usual, I do like this dress.”

“Now you need shoes to go with it,” Steph said to Jessie’s back as she disappeared back into the fitting room. “And a new bathing suit and a few other things I can think of.”

When they arrived home, the two women dumped their purchases on the sofa and adjourned to the plant room with two glasses and a bottle of California chardonnay. When they had settled into long chairs side by side, and sipped some wine, Jessie reopened the earlier topic. “I guess I’ve digested some of our conversation of before. Now I’m curious. How did Brian react to your first encounter with Hank?”

“He was pretty quiet for a day or so, then, in bed a few nights later, he asked me all about it.”

“He wanted the gory details?”

“Not specifically, but he wanted to know whether I enjoyed it and whether I came.”

“Did you tell him? I mean, weren’t you worried that he’d be jealous or something.”

“Jessie,” Steph said, turning to fully face her friend. “I will never lie to Brian. That’s the bottom line. If he doesn’t like something that happens we can change the rules but I will never lie. I told him it was wonderful. To me, lovemaking isn’t a contest. It’s not who’s better than whom at this or that. It’s pleasure for the sake of pleasure and that’s all it is. And, of course, there’s never a substitute for first times in bed together. It’s the greatest kick in the world.”

“Wow. That’s quite an attitude.”

“I guess, but it’s one that Brian and I share completely. We have a deal that if something makes one of us uncomfortable, either about what we are doing ourself or what the other is doing, we talk about it and decide how to rearrange things, if necessary.”

“Has he ever been jealous? Have you?”

“Once in a while one of us becomes obsessed with someone for a short time. But it’s always hottest at the beginning and eventually it all cools.”

Jessie hesitated. “Am I cramping your style?”

“Of course not. There are a few couples in the neighborhood who get together for fun from time to time and we will, either with you or without, in the near future.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. We’ve found quite a few honest, open kindred spirits.” She smiled. “You know, some people who claim to be open-minded have said to me, ‘Just don’t tell my wife the details. I don’t want her to know about….’ Honest my foot. They have more secrets than the FBI. We don’t find that type of person very congenial.”

“Hey, girls, your lord and master is home,” a voice yelled from the front hall.

“Hi lord and master,” Steph yelled back. “Bring a wineglass. We’re killing a bottle of chardonnay and need an accomplice.”

“Let me change and I’ll be right in.”

“You really found the best one,” Jessie said wistfully.

“I know I did. But he didn’t make out badly in the deal.”

Jessie’s head snapped up. “I didn’t mean….”

Steph laughed. “Of course you didn’t. You know you could talk to Brian about all this too.”

“Talk to Brian? I’d be too embarrassed.”

“Nonsense. He can tell you better than I can how he feels about it all.”

“I don’t think I’m up to discussing this with him just yet.”

“Do you mind if I tell him that we talked?”

“I guess not. It’s just so, I don’t know, so intimate.”

“That it is. And try not to treat him differently because you know what’s going on.”

“That will be a tall order. I never dreamed there was a tiger under that teddy bear.”

At that moment, Brian walked in, wearing a pair of form-fitting swim trunks and carrying a wineglass. The two women burst out laughing. “Okay,” Brian said, filling his glass, “what’s the joke?”

“We were just talking about what could be hiding under your teddy bear exterior.” Steph took a minute to control her laughter. “Then you walk in in those tight little nothings you’re wearing and we know you can’t hide a thing.”

Brian looked down at his body with its heavy black hair. “Okay, ladies, now I’m insulted. Teddy bear indeed. I’ve always wanted to be a centerfold.” He posed with his arms flexed. “A sex symbol. Like Burt Reynolds.”

“You’re my sex symbol darling,” Steph giggled.

Brian walked over and gave his wife a kiss on the top of her head then started toward the pool. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll just take this teddy bear body and go for a swim. Join me?”

“Sure.” The two women followed Brian to the pool and while he swam laps, Jessie and Steph talked about gardening.

As he swam, Jessie watched Brian’s shoulders. He always did have great shoulders, she thought. He fools around. With other women. She watched his huge hands cut through the water. Now stop that, she told herself as a warm flush spread through her body. That’s Stephanie’s husband you’re leering at. But, she said to herself, he fools around with Steph’s permission. Interesting.

The following day was Wednesday, matinee day in Manhattan. Steph knocked on Jessie’s door and Jessie called, “Come on in.” She stood in her bra and panties, rummaging in the dresser drawers for a clean polo shirt.

“Good,” Steph said, one hand buried in the pocket of her flowered terrycloth robe. “I caught you before you got dressed. Put on your best city duds, I’ve got a treasure.” She raised her hand and waved a small white envelope. “Phantom of the Opera. This very afternoon. Two tickets, row eight.”

“Oh Steph. I’ve wanted to see that show for ages.” She slammed the dresser drawer and opened the closet door. “City duds. How’s the outfit I arrived in?”

“Just fine,” Steph said, looking at her watch. “I’d like to make the ten o’clock train. We can lunch someplace nice, then go to the theater. I’ll give Brian a call and he can meet us for an outrageous dinner.”

“Sounds terrific.”

The day was perfect. The weather was unusually temperate for New York in late June, temperatures in the high seventies and low humidity. The two women window-shopped, ate a quick lunch at Twenty-One, and enjoyed the theater. Brian met them at Le Cirque and the three spent hours gorging themselves on fine food and memorable wine. After dinner, Jessie snuck out to the maitre d’ and secretly gave him her credit card. When Brian asked for the check, the waiter nodded toward Jessie. “The madam has already taken care of it.”

“Jessie, you shouldn’t have.”

“That’s to say thank you for everything. You’re the best friends anyone could ever have and I’m grateful.”

Brian stood up, walked around to Jessie’s chair and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “You’re our best friend and we love you.” He slid the tip of his finger up the nape of Jessie’s neck, ending just below her tight French knot. A shiver slithered down Jessie’s spine.

Thursday, Steph spent the day at the hospital and, since Brian had a business dinner, the two women ate in the kitchen, dressed in shorts and T-shirts. “Oh lord, Steph,” Jessie said as her friend pulled a casserole dish out of the oven. “Franks and beans. I haven’t had franks and beans in…gosh, since we were in high school. Rob always said that beans gave him gas and he always watched his fat intake so franks were out.”

“So? You never made some just for you?”

Ruefully, Jessie shook her head. “You don’t have any of that brown spiced bread we used to have, do you?”

Steph pulled the cylinder of deep brown, spicy bread from the microwave. “Only ze best for ze madam,” she said in a bad, mock French accent.

Over coffee, Steph said, “Jessie, I’d like to invite some friends over to meet you on Tuesday night. That’s the Fourth of July. Just a few couples we know and particularly like. I think you’ll like them too.”

“Couples you and Brian fool around with?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jessie regretted them. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. And the answer is yes and no. I’d like to invite three couples, nice normal everyday folks, one of whom we’ve swapped with, two we haven’t. I challenge you to figure out which couple we’ve swapped with. I had intended to invite two single men so you wouldn’t find the evening so couples-oriented but one of them, a wonderful man named Gary, is out of town. You will get to meet him too, eventually. He’s a very long story, but suffice it to say that he gives the best parties. You’ll have to attend one with us some evening. I know you’ll like the other man I’ve invited. Eric Langden’s a doll, divorced and gorgeous. And no, I’ve never been with either Gary or Eric. Exactly.”

Jessie let that final remark pass, for the moment. “Are you trying to fix me up?”

“Frankly, yes. But not fix you up with someone specific. It’s just that you should have some fun now. It’s been over a year and Rob’s past history. It’s time for the next phase of Jessie’s life.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, Steph.”

“For what? All I’m planning is a nice evening with nice people. Period. No sex, nothing kinky. No future plans unless you want some. No awkward foursomes. Just people. And no Jessie and Rob. Just Jessie.”

“Just Jessie.” She nodded. “Okay. Sounds wonderful.”

The long holiday weekend sped by. Tuesday afternoon, Steph and Jessie sat chatting in the plant room. “By the way, Jessie,” Steph asked, “what are you wearing this evening?”

“I thought I’d wear that same navy linen suit. Why? Is it too dressy?”

“Well….” Steph hesitated. “May I make a suggestion? I’d love to see you wear that print dress we bought last week.”

“Oh no, Steph. Not for tonight. It’s so, I don’t know, so flamboyant.”

“But it’s a party and that light, pretty party dress will make you feel like a party. And anyway, what’s wrong with a little flamboyance? Let’s look at this as a coming-out party for a new Jessie, a JessicaLynn party.”

“That’s silly.”

“It is not silly. Let’s look at it this way. If you decide to leave sometime soon—and I’m not for one moment suggesting that you should—you’ll never see any of these people again. If you stay, they’ll have met the new you and I’m sure they’ll love you as much as I do. Let’s create a new look for you to match your new life.”

“Oh Steph, I don’t know.”

“I know you very well, JessicaLynn Hanley, and somewhere inside you a little JessicaLynn-voice is saying, ‘Do it. Have some fun for a change.’ Another, louder Jessie-voice is saying, ‘That’s ridiculous. Be yourself, conservative and proper.’ Tell that Jessie-voice to stuff it and let JessicaLynn out.”

Jessie laughed. “You do know me well, don’t you. That’s exactly what’s going through my brain. I would really like to be JessicaLynn, fun-loving party-girl, but on the inside I’m still Jessie, proper and restrained.” When Steph didn’t respond, Jessie raised an eyebrow. “The flowered dress?”

“The flowered dress.”

“The strappy sandals we bought to go with it?”

Steph nodded, then added, “And no tightly organized French twist. Wear your hair softer, maybe even loose.”

“But that’s not me,” Jessie protested softly.

“It’s JessicaLynn.”

“It’s JessicaLynn,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll wear the dress and the shoes, but I don’t know about the hair.”

“Yippee. JessicaLynn gets to come out and play.”

The party was scheduled for eight o’clock so the three friends had a bite to eat around six. Then Jessie went to her room, took a long shower, and scrubbed her long red hair until it squeaked. She wrapped herself in a towel, then wandered into the bedroom, opened the closet door and stood before the full-length mirror. Her fine, soft hair was already drying and flowing softly around her shoulders. The summer sun had turned the ivory skin on her face, arms, and legs a soft peachy color.

She hadn’t really looked at herself in years, so Jessie took a deep breath and dropped the towel. Her figure was softer and more rounded than it had been in high school. Her breasts were high and full, her nipples deep smoky-pink. Her hips were wide enough to accentuate her small waist. Her legs were long and shapely. She smiled. I should be thinking about my thick thighs and my not-too-flat stomach, she thought. But JessicaLynn wouldn’t do that.

She put on a white lace bra and panties, added a short half-slip, and then she was ready for the dress. Jessie took the hanger from the closet and, without looking in the mirror, pulled it over her head and zipped it up. She looked down and all she could see was the deep shadowed valley between her breasts. She wiggled her hips and pulled up at the neckline. “I can’t do this,” she said. Then she glanced up and looked at her reflection. “Wow,” she said.

The dress was perfect. It hugged her upper body and cascaded in soft flowing lines over her hips and thighs. The skirt fell to just below her knees and below her short slip it was slightly translucent. She looked five years younger than she had looked a half an hour before and, she admitted to herself, she felt ten years younger.

She struggled with the tiny straps on her sandals and finally got them adjusted to her satisfaction. Again she looked at herself and grinned. “Okay, JessicaLynn, what about this hair?” Part of her wanted to put it into her traditional French twist but she stopped herself. She brushed it until it was soft and dry and pulled it back from her face. She tried a ponytail at the back of her head, then one at the nape of her neck, and finally one on top of her head. None of them were right. She pulled it one way, then another. Nothing looked the way she wanted.

She almost surrendered and put her hair up in her usual style when she remembered a long silver-colored comb she had once pushed into the fold of her twist. She found the comb in the bottom of her cosmetic bag and used it to pull one side of her hair back behind her ear. “Oh my God,” she muttered as she saw the sexy woman in the mirror. “Is that me?”

It is if you want it to be, JessicaLynn said in her mind.

But is this the conservative midwesterner you’ve always been? Jessie asked.

No. And so what? JessicaLynn answered.

But what would Rob think?

Out loud, JessicaLynn said, “Who gives a fuck!” She dusted her cheeks with blush, pencilled on a line of eyeliner, and colored her lips with a coral lipstick. “Well, JessicaLynn, here goes.”