Выбрать главу

CHAPTER THREE

The two shapely women, Helen and Carlotta, remained in Conference One. Helen wore her uniform. Carlotta wore her stockings, leaving unclothed everything that a man would like to see – her pert up tilted breasts, her dark neat bush, her slender but adequate hips, her firm buttocks, her odd but attractive face.

Looking at her more closely, Helen saw more than Latin in her face. Behind the olive skin and along the cheekbones lay a hint of ancient native blood. Carlotta had had an ancestor among the tribes of South America who built great temples and engaged in human sacrifice and the deflowering of virgins with stone lancets known as the lingams of the Gods.

Carlotta strolled to the bar. Helen found the view of her back and her swaying buttocks quite disturbing. The long black stockings looked like something left over from an indescribable debauch.

Carlotta went to the bar, made two margaritas. Not everyone has seen a super-naked woman work at a bar. The effect is fascinating. Carlotta knew this. She knew, too, that she was not fascinating a man but fascinating a woman. This required technique.

Carlotta was simply a Buenos Aires specialty – a woman who knew how to take care of all the varieties of sex.

You name it, she supplied it. But although, on occasion, she might round up a corps of girls to provide some bored rich man with a bacchanal, she preferred more intimate scenes. Whatever was to be done along the highways and byways of sex she preferred to supply by herself.

She had fucked her friend Hank Hastings with hot and lively expertise. Called upon to provide suck, she had sucked him over the rainbow and back again.

Now she had caught his signal and she was going to get to work on Helen Troy. Carlotta could switch from heterosexual to homosexual without thinking twice about it.

Moreover, she had seen something in Hank and Helen, when they had been so briefly together, that made her think they ought to be together more often and all alone. Being a woman, Carlotta was a matchmaker.

But now to the problem of the moment. This Helen had been given a bad time by a female passenger and had been left in a state of nervous tension. Carlotta knew the medicine to apply.

She brought the margarita to Helen and clinked glasses. She let half the drink go down Helen's throat and then she reached for Helen's hand.

"Shek," she said.

Helen nodded. Yes, her hands were shaking. Carlotta touched delicate fingers to the pulse in the side of Helen's throat. "Queek," she said.

"My heart is still beating fast, I know," Helen said, pleased with Carlotta's sympathy.

Holding her drink in one hand, Carlotta bent, reached casually up beneath Helen's skirt and pressed her hand firmly upon the twat she found. She could not reach its skin but she felt it adequately through the fabric of Helen's minipanties. She also felt, as she smiled quietly, the shaking response that ran through Helen's entire form.

"Shek," said Carlotta. True enough, Helen's cunt had been quivering and now quivered even more strongly. "Wet." Carlotta smelled her own fingers. "Ah! In middle." She tried to find the English words but could not. "Lost," she tried. And "Not mek feenish."

Helen marveled. "You can tell by the smell of my cunt that that bitch Cleo left our sex job unfinished, even though I polished her off so well?"

"Ah-hmm, yes. Now. Do."

Again Helen watched the provocative ass cheeks, made even more so by the black stockings, retreat a couple of yards to the button that controlled the bed. Carlotta deliberately made her breasts twitch when she lifted a hand to press the button in the wall.

The bed came down softly, invitingly. Carlotta smiled to Helen and pulled back the bedspread.

She came to Helen and removed the hostess's uniform jacket.

Without hurry she unbuttoned Helen's blouse.

She showed her approval of the revealing bra. She ran her lips along the edges of the bra, tracking its outlines along the quivering, warming tissues of Helen's breasts.

She unhooked the bra and retreated a foot to get a better view. She nodded her approval. She put a hand beneath each breast and felt their weight and nodded further approval.

She invited Helen to feel her breasts, and turned sidewise to show their outline, the up tilted nipples that made a kind of ski-jump for an exploring finger. She made the motion of using a bow and arrow.

Ah! One had to have Indian blood in order to have breasts of that enticing shape.

"Men like, ho-ho-ho!" said Carlotta, smiling.

She helped Helen out of her skirt and half-slip but motioned that she should leave on her stockings. Oh yes, thought Helen, while all her juices flowed in eager expectation, let's play whore!

Being a woman, she had a hidden desire to be a whore. But Helen's sexual desires ran in too many directions and she never knew which direction to call the way home.

Anyway, if one were to play whore, where were the men?

Who needed a hairy brutal man when one had a silken-skinned, gentle woman?

Carlotta again fondled Helen's breast, pressing the nipples inward and letting them spring out again. She then cupped her hand upon one breast while she bent her lips to the other.

She approached Helen's nipple in the suck-off style, with her lips drawn over her teeth. When she had the enticed, erect nipple between her lips, it gave Helen only half the sensation she had tremblingly expected. She wanted moisture. She wanted tongue.

While Carlotta let Helen go on wanting a wet nipple, she released the other breast and glided her hand down Helen's belly into the bush. She combed the bush with her fingers, and this sent a delighted shiver through Helen's body.

Carlotta touched the cunt, below; once, twice, three times, each time lingering longer while her lips continued their odd, drawn-down exploration of Helen's nipple.

All at once, Carlotta grabbed Helen's cunt and at the same time opened her mouth wide and took the nipple and the corolla and more into her wide open mouth that flooded with moisture.

Helen made a small, soft, delighted shriek.

She didn't expect what happened then.

Carlotta hooked a finger into her cunt and drew her along that way.

It didn't hurt. It didn't not-hurt. It hurt just a bit, just enough to be exciting. The finger had its grip merely in the outer lips, resting against the clitoris. Helen could have gotten away. But why? Smiling in tender wonder, she allowed Carlotta to draw her along as though she were an Indian maiden led along by the Incan hook made of twisted feathers that could tickle a girl almost into madness before they sat her upon the stone lingam for her defloration.

Helen didn't know all that. She only knew she was having a wonderful time. And that her much abused cunt, signaled to expect an orgasm, was responding with heat, juice, and a delightful aroma.

They sat upon the bed and engaged in tongue writhing soul kisses and rubbed each other's pussies.

They fell back on the bed, stretched out together, excited, contented, more excited than contented.

With a naughty grin, Carlotta got up on her knees between Helen's thighs as though she were about to take a man's place. But what she really wanted was to rub her remarkable nipples around and around Helen's. She thus signaled that, yes, she certainly had peeked at Helen and Cleo when the two had been sporting in this same bed.

Cleo slapped Helen gently on the hip and made a signaclass="underline" turn over.

Gloating upon Helen's gluteus maxiumus, Carlotta nibbled and nipped with her tiny teeth. She made Helen keep her legs apart so that, simultaneously, she could sometimes nibble and nip down the ass-cleft, which led her along a trail of torrid fun down to the back of the crotch. With a quick motion, Carlotta reversed her position and, almost standing on her head, got at the part of Helen's cunt that her tongue could reach. She whipped it with her tongue, held the lips apart and got her tongue in almost to the fuck tunnel.