Message-ID: <34502asstr$1010308204@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "Katherine T." Reply-to: kt1960@earthlink.net X-Original-Message-ID: <3C37769A.11814.2B4097D@localhost> Priority: normal X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Sat, 5 Jan 2002 21:56:42 -0600 Subject: {ASSM} Margot (FF, lesbian) (Katherine T.) X-Original-Subject: Margot (FF, lebsian) (Katherine T.) Date: Sun, 6 Jan 2002 04:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, IceAltar The following entertainment is for adults only, and anyone not an adult is hereby warned to go away. All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated. Contact me at kt1960@earthlink.net A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T. can be found at the following URL: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Katherine_T MARGOT by Katherine T. kt1960@earthlink.net Margot was at an age when she thought it useful to tolerate the foibles of other people. It was no longer worth the effort to be critical, even in silence. Maturity, after all, meant an acceptance of varieties of behavior. In any case, the minor weaknesses of the people in her life produced only insignificant difficulties for her. Her husband, Robert, played too much golf. The two boys, now both at Princeton, seemed uninterested in anything serious. She could do nothing about Robert's fanatic devotion to golf, but she hoped the boys would soon outgrow their vapid attitudes. She was now forty-eight, more and more conscious of the approach of her fiftieth year and surprised at how untroubled she was about it. Was she content? She had no idea, the question always striking her as absurd. One could be content today and not content tomorrow. Was it possible for anyone to be in a constant state of contentment? She had her life, the trappings as one of her friends liked to call the comforts of her class. The two boys were now young men, and rather than feel the loss that everyone had said she would feel, Margot instead felt as though a minor burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Well, that was done, wasn't it? If nothing else, she had raised two children without any bad luck and without much in the way of chaos. The difficulty was the more she thought about these things, the more she realized the accomplishments, if they were that at all, left her unsatisfied. There could be more, couldn't there? This question arose now and then, drifting to the surface, posing itself, then slowly sinking into the deep again. One day in the city, Margot noticed a girl in a dress shop. The girl was a salesgirl in one of those expensive little boutiques with Italian names. The shop was located on a street noted for such places, a short upper-class street often crowded with attractive sports cars. Margot liked the street because it reminded her there were people in the world who cared as much for beautiful things as she did. The girl had dark eyes, the most captivating dark eyes Margot had ever seen. Margot told herself that. She looked at the girl, and then she looked again, and then she deliberately turned away in order to avoid being caught staring. Staring was rude and Margot hated being rude. But the next time Margot looked, the salesgirl caught her at it and came forward immediately. "Can I help you?" Their eyes met, those lovely dark eyes fixed on Margot's. "I'm not sure," Margot said. "I'm just browsing, really." "We've a batch of new blouses from Milan. Would you like to see them?" And so Margot looked at the batch of new blouses from Milan, finally bought two of them knowing she might never wear them. The girl took her credit card, wrote up the sale, and before long Margot left the shop with a package in her hand. But she did not want the package, she wanted the girl. She realized that as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, and the force of the realization hit her so abruptly she thought she might lose her balance and fall down. * * * Many years ago, twenty-eight years ago to be exact, Margot and another girl had surrendered to each other in a night of frenetic lovemaking in a college dormitory room. Margot had always thought of it as her banal dark secret, an inelegant transgression produced by the passions of youth. Everyone had them, didn't they? She could barely remember the girl now and it certainly had not been a love affair. They'd been together only that once, all night long, but only that once. The girl had been experienced enough to know exactly what to do and to do it well. She taught Margot how to reciprocate, and Margot had been stunned by how much she liked it, by how much she enjoyed doing things to another girl like that, secret things, forbidden things, using her fingers and mouth with an animal lust she'd never thought herself capable of exhibiting. The girl had never approached Margot again, and Margot had been too upset by the experience to think of repeating it. She told herself that wasn't the sort of thing she wanted in life, and when shortly afterward Robert suggested they become officially engaged she quickly accepted. Robert was what she wanted, Robert and a family and a settled life of discreet comfort. So she married Robert and she had the two boys and the settled life of comfort she thought she wanted. Occasionally during the years she remembered the incident at college and she wondered what her life might have been like had she followed the instincts so violently aroused during that one night. Did she yearn for it? She was never certain, and the uncertainty was itself an embarrassment, a dark footnote to the dark secret that seemed to grow more and more insignificant because twenty-eight years, after all, was a very long time. Now, suddenly, the secret was no longer insignificant. Why now? Why had the girl in the boutique upset her so? Margot had no idea; She thought of it constantly for a week, but she could find no answer at all. Was it something working inside her without her awareness? Why this particular girl? The salesgirl was attractive, but certainly not startling. Margot knew girls who were more beautiful, women who were more alluring. She'd even been approached by women on occasion, once in Paris and once in a hotel in St. Louis of all places, but she had never yielded, never accepted the approach. Why this girl? Why did she suddenly want this girl? And then after a week came the second realization, and with almost as much force as the first: the girl in the boutique bore a striking resemblance to the girl Margot had known in college. The dark eyes were the same, the same dark eyes and the same heart-shaped face, the same rosebud lips. Margot shuddered now as she realized it, as she realized she had to see the girl again; she had to see if indeed the resemblance was as strong as she thought it was. * * * The girl's name was Elena. Margot learned that a few moments after she stepped into the shop, for the girl immediately came to her, said she remembered her and asked if she might help her again. "My name's Elena," the girl said. This time she showed Margot some skirts, but Margot saw nothing she liked and she bought nothing this time. They chatted anyway. Yes, Elena did bear a striking resemblance to that girl Margot had known in college. Margot felt more at ease as she talked to Elena, but more captivated by the girl than ever. In order to avoid an appearance of being too forward, she deliberately cut short her stay in the shop with an excuse that she had to meet someone. "I'll come back another time," Margot said with a smile. "You're usually here, aren't you?" Elena nodded, her dark eyes unwavering. "Every day until six." But when Margot returned three days later, Elena was out, not working that day. Margot felt a sharp disappointment, passed an irritable day shopping at the larger stores, and then an irritable evening at home coping with Robert's boring talk about his business friends. You're becoming obsessed, Margot thought. Was she? Yes, she thought she was. Late the next morning she drove into the city and she visited the boutique again. This time Elena was there. The girl showed Margot some blouses that had just arrived. Margot bought three French blouses, and when she asked Elena if she cared to have lunch with her, Elena seemed unsurprised and she immediately accepted. "I'm off in a few minutes," Elena said. Margot said she would wait outside in her car. She sat there behind the wheel of the car trembling as she waited for Elena. She hadn't thought it would happen so fast, hadn't thought the girl would actually agree to have lunch with her. Twenty minutes later she sat with Elena in a chic little restaurant with enormous menus in French and English. It was understood, of course, that Margot would pay for it. Elena, no doubt, would need to work an entire day to pay for her share. Elena agreed to have white wine, and then after that she allowed Margot to choose a filet salmon almondine for her. They talked easily during the meal, Elena telling Margot about her vague plans to return to college someday. She was only twenty-two years old but nothing seemed of any interest to her. Toward the end of the meal, while they were having their coffee, Elena said: "If you want to go to bed with me, I have the afternoon off and my roommate's out of town." * * * Margot almost crashed the Mercedes coupe driving to Elena's apartment. She was afraid to talk, afraid to ask how Elena had known everything, afraid that somehow the spell would be broken and she'd lose the moment. Once inside Elena's dull and cluttered little apartment, Margot immediately felt awkward, out of place and in foreign surroundings. Elena seemed to sense it and she smiled. "It's a mess, isn't it?" "No, it's quite nice." "There's wine if you want it." "No, not really." It was obvious Elena was waiting for her. Trembling again, Margot stepped forward and she took Elena in her arms and kissed her. A light kiss. Then a stronger kiss. Then a third kiss that was more feverish, more to the point. She was thrilled by the girl's soft wet mouth. She wondered how often Elena did this sort of thing, how often she fell into the arms of middle-aged women who shopped in the boutique. She moved her hands over Elena's body, stroking the girl's back and hips. Elena remained passive as Margot undressed her, pulled at the zippers, undid the buttons, slid the clothes off Elena's slender body until the girl was naked, sleek, her skin like silk under Margot's fingertips. Laughing, Elena pulled away from Margot and said: "Let's go to my room. I like doing it on a bed better than on a sofa." Her eyes on the perfect firm buttocks, Margot followed the naked girl into one of the small bedrooms, a room even more untidy than the living room, the bed unmade, the shades already drawn, a faint smell of cologne and sweat in the air. Elena slid onto the bed on her back and without coyness she opened her legs to show herself. Margot understood what Elena wanted, what Elena expected her to do. For an instant Margot wanted to balk. Did she really want this? There was no love here, no affection emanating from Elena. Do I want this? Margot thought. Yes, she did want it. The hunger for it was already so great, she felt consumed by it. She looked at Elena's sex. The girl had an abundance of hair down there, the dark hair hiding everything, a dense thicket that grew wild on the insides of her thighs and gave her sex an animal-like appearance. So hairy, Margot thought. What does she do when she wears a bikini? With a deliberate attempt to tease, Elena slid a hand down to her crotch and she slowly opened the long lips with her fingers. "Don't you want to?" Margot looked at the dark sex a long moment, and then she groaned and she threw herself at it. * * * It was like the other time, that time when she was in college. A frenzy of passion overcame Margot as she pushed her face between Elena welcoming thighs. Elena groaned and spread her thighs even wider when she felt Margot's breath on her sex. "Come on," Elena said. Margot opened the flower. She was aware of the pungent female scent mixed with a hint of sweat. She pulled the lips apart and she trembled as she gazed at the girl's aggressive clitoris. Margot guessed it was larger than her own; certainly the shaft looked longer. How absurd it was that so many years had passed since she'd looked at another woman like this, had her face this close to it, so close the scent of the sex was enough to drive her mad with excitement. Oh, you fool! Margot thought. And then she bent her head to kiss the flower and she stopped thinking about anything but what she had under her mouth. Now she was blind and she had to discover everything with only her lips and tongue. She licked in the groove along one side of Elena's clitoris and then down the other side. She felt as though she had an entire continent to explore, mountains and valleys and rifts, and down there the deep well of Elena's opening that was now exuding a thick delicious syrup. Margot sucked at the opening and quivered with happiness when she found her nose pressing against the flap of Elena's clitoris. This too was like the first time, that time so many years ago. Margot remembered it. She rubbed her nose from side to side against Elena's clitoris as she sucked the warm fluid out of Elena's opening. Elena put her hands on Margot's head as she began moving her pelvis in circles. Sounds came out of Elena's throat, a jumble of words, and Margot strained to hear them as she continued sucking at the wet flower. The bed creaking, her body shaking up and down, Elena finally finished coming. "Oh wow," Elena said, her eyes closed, her voice suddenly fatigued. Margot needed to wipe her face. Rather than use what she expected was a horrible bathroom, she left the room to find her purse and a tissue. In the living room she discovered her hands were shaking and it bothered her immensely. Oh dear, she thought. What a poor soul you are. She dried her face, replaced the damp tissue in her purse and returned to the bedroom. Elena was now lying on her side. Her eyes were open, and when she saw Margot, she smiled and she slowly lifted one leg to expose her sex. "I could make it again if you want it." Margot felt suddenly faint. "No, I don't think so. I really have to go now." "Are you sure?" "Yes." Elena sat up and shrugged. She left the bed and she came to Margot, smiled and leaned forward to lightly kiss Margot's lips. Then Elena turned and she walked in front of Margot to the other end of the apartment where the front door was located. "I loved it," Elena said. A few minutes later, Margot was on the street wondering which direction would make it easier to find a taxi. * * * The event burned in Margot's thoughts for days. Her mind was filled with images of Elena naked, Elena on the bed, Elena's sex unfurled and waiting for Margot's mouth. First she resolved not to see the girl ever again. The she realized the resolve was ridiculous because she'd never adhere to it. After a week she understood she could not possibly avoid seeing Elena again, and at the end of the second week, in a state of quiet desperation, she returned to the shop where Elena worked. But the girl was not there, and when Margot made an inquiry, she was dismayed to learn Elena was no longer one of the employees. "She quit," the manager said with a curious look at Margot. "I was about to let her go anyway." "Is there any way I can reach her?" But the woman who managed the shop was already walking away, obviously uninterested, not at all interested in Margot who was certainly not a regular customer, not anyone who could be counted on for a significant sale. Snooty, Margot thought. She hated it when sales people were snooty to her. She turned and hurriedly walked out, wondering why she hadn't been clever enough to get Elena's telephone number while they were together. And now what would she do? Could she find her anywhere? She walked up the street, past one shop after the other, all of them appearing copies of each other, the mannequins in the windows all appearing in the same poses. She peered through each window with the hope she might see Elena, but of course in never happened, Elena was gone, Elena had vanished, the experience with Elena would become a cold memory. Well, I'm better off, Margot thought. That girl was too disruptive, disrupting her life, confusing her. She wanted an orderly life, and a silly obsession with a girl young enough to be her daughter meant not order but disorder. She would not think of Elena any longer, all that was finished for good. But oh those lovely eyes she had, those lovely dark eyes! End -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+