-Author’s note: Thank you for having read thus far. For those that have borne with the character development, this is the beginning of the erotic payout.
I have received some really good criticism regarding the constant recap in each chapter. So, I have decided to place the recap in italics to make it easier for my serial readers to choose to skip the redundant content while still retaining the stand-alone nature of the work for first-timers. Thanks for your dedication to the story. I hope you enjoy.
*****
A low chime rang announcing the arrival of our third course. My companion ignored it and simply smiled at me warmly.
I had gained insight into myself this evening and for the first time in three years, I felt everything was going to be alright.
Three years ago when I was 24 years old, I was struck by another car on my way home from work and woke up from a coma with a broken face. I had been living numbly for the last three years because I had made some bad life decisions in the months before the accident and I did not know how to deal with them since. I had not understood. The wreck had not just broken my face; it had repaired my life.
Tonight, I had made a turn. I faced everything and had confided in the woman sitting next to me everything about my life that I had been trying to forget. Unfortunately concealing and denying problems do not make them go away as they will find a way to surface one way or another.
I was ready to embrace my future. Warmly I thought inside that might mean embracing the woman I idolized; Anneke Beauchamp M.D. I had been flirting with her all night.
Well, she started it! Honest.
Out of the blue, she had kissed me on the lips in public and something stirred inside of me. I was smitten and had been flirting with her all night. I had gotten drunk (through no fault of my own. I swear) and it wasn’t until I had sobered up a little that I realized that flirting with her was leading somewhere. I hadn’t been sure that we were flirting. I was just having fun. I wasn’t even sure if she was into women or if she was just behaving in a European manner of a normal friendship between women and my overactive and drunk imagination had made it something more.
About that same time that I had had a dash of cold water on my inebriation (literally) which had dampened my ardor ( again, literally), she decided to play her hand and reveal that she was a lesbian and very interested in me. I freaked out I am afraid. I froze and in her attempt to soothe me, she brought to surface things that I had been burying and not dealing with. She knew everything about me already, but talking to her about the things I had done and was ashamed about had made me feel more free than at any time since before my accident.
I had lightly fooled around with a girlfriend and been called out on it by her. In my attempt to deny that I liked it and her, I slept with a man I had just met. Rashly, we hadn’t used any protection and I got pregnant. The night; I had shown positive on a pee test, I had gotten in my accident, lost my baby, and my life had been a bad dream since. I had been carrying around the guilt of all of that for three years when tonight I confessed all to this wonderful lady sitting across from me and realized that I had been freed from my bad choices and the consequences were removed when I had had my accident. I would not have chosen to receive a clean slate at such a price, but indeed, the price had been paid and all I had to do was to accept it.
I believe that Life is full of symbols. In a flash of inspiration, I had made the connection that fleeing women had preluded the two most life-changing accidents I had experienced. One was a young bisexual girl who was secretly in love with me and clumsily tried to seduce me driving me straight into an unwed pregnancy. The other was a drunken woman driver who ran my car off the road involving me in a catastrophic accident that made me lose my baby and the appearance with which I had been born. I may be a slow study but I didn’t think that I would be swerving to avoid this lovely lady whom fate had seen fit to place directly in my life’s path. Avoidance seemed to be on the lesson plan and experience taught that it was the path to disaster.
We had met up this evening at a Mexican restaurant. She was the specialist instructor of the last class for our Emergency Department’s accreditation to State level-one trauma destination. We had all passed and students and teachers were to meet to celebrate. One by one everybody else had had something come up or decided not to arrive and I had waited around to tell my instructors. I was being harassed by some college guys when Anya (Dr. Beauchamp) saved me with a kiss.
I had only ordered two drinks and was going to end the night with that when circumstance made me drink a shot of tequila and a little more than one more margarita; and a whiskey, and a few glasses of wine. I was really drunk, but I still knew what was going on. The drinks had been spaced out over a few hours, so I had plateaued and currently Fast link was warmly fuzzy. Oh yes and a little more than flirty.
Even though I appear to be eastern European because if the accident, I am Irish heritage. Most Irish are fighters when they get drunk. I am a lover, not a fighter. ‘Nuff said; my body was reacting to the slightest stimulation and my state of inebriation had embarrassed me many times this evening. But it is all good, everything happens for a reason.
*****
“Ready for the next course?” She asked.
“How many courses are there? I’m not full, but I shouldn’t overeat since I have had so much to drink tonight.” After my cathartic cry, I was feeling simply warm and cozy instead of drunk, but if I moved my head fast enough, the room would spin a little.
“Five including dessert so; next course, then the main, and then the piece-de-resistance!”
As she reached over to signal the next course, I reached for the bottle noting that it was halfway empty and refilled our glasses. I didn’t do too badly. I purposely filled her glass to a higher level than mine.
She leaned back in her chair and regarded the glasses side by side. She crossed her arms over her exquisite breasts and asked me.
“Lynne McKinney! Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“I don’t know anybody named Lynne.” I replied with mock innocence. “My name is Frances. “
Anya exclaimed, “I like it: ‘Frahn-sis’ It is beautiful.”
I was stunned. Her accent made it special.
“What is that name to you, did you just randomly pick it?”
I told her, “It is my given name. My full name is Frances Lynne McKinney.”
She said,” it is lovely, you are my Frances! It will be your name just for me?”
“No-one else can use it. Frances is all yours.”
I returned Anya’s smile and reached over to clasp her hands.
“Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder. There were just so many things that I was remembering and I got a little overwhelmed. But talking to you has made me see everything in a new light and I can accept everything including my bad choices. I think I have learned from them and see that it’s not necessary to run from anything anymore.
I was speaking metaphorically of course about being the ghost of Lynne McKinney and about exorcising her dead mourning spirit tonight. But in a way it is true. I am Frances Lynne McKinney and I made those bad decisions. I can accept that. But also, I am ready to connect with the new person I see in the mirror. You have helped create me anew and I cannot express my gratitude”
She smiled at that as if in relief, patted my arm, leaned back and said it was time for the third course. She got up and walked over to the dumbwaiter to retrieve it. She had taken her jacket off because I had soaked it with my tears when I was bawling. She was dressed in an earth-tone floral print silk wrap-style camisole with pointelle lace cups that were depended by spaghetti straps and this time I watched her walk over to get the next platter. I admit, I admired how firm and buoyant her breasts were. The lace did little to conceal them and she had silver dollar (like anyone has seen any of those in a while) sized areolae that appeared to be pinkish brown and topped by a pebbly nipples. They looked like they had heard something about the laws of gravity, but weren’t sure if they believed in them and they were just going to protest their mandatory involvement by passive-aggressively delaying any response to it. Although it was almost hidden by her long blonde hair, when she turned away, I could see that she had a tattoo of something on her left shoulder. I was intrigued; I could not picture the reserved and proper Dr. Beauchamp as the type of person to sport a tattoo. But to be fair, I had not realized that she was lesbian either; maybe this wonderful woman would have more surprises for me.
She placed the platter on the table and I saw that it was a selection of different cold dishes. Some kind of thinly sliced very pink beef surrounding a bed of greens, some pastry looking things ( croquettes?) topped by a black jelly looking spread and a dozen raw oysters. There were also two champagne glasses with a mini bottle of bubbly. It looked like quite a romantic spread.
“Dr. Beecham, are you trying to seduce me with aphrodisiacs?” I thought I would be funny and stare at her with a look of mock horror on my face. To my surprise, she had a guilty look on her face which I found hilarious for some reason, and burst out laughing. She had a momentary look of… Well, I am not sure; it flit across her face so quickly, I had not time to determine if it was consternation or anger. But whatever it was, it was momentary and soon she was laughing right along with me.
I grabbed one of the pastry things and realized that the little cup wasn’t bread at all. It was moist and a little cool and asked what it was; she told me that it was a yellowtail tartare with pusnaya caviar. She grabbed one also and said it was quite delicious. I had tried sushi before, but I do not think I had ever fast links had caviar.
It was interesting; mostly like a jam but some little bit gritty, but poppy like champagne. It had as strong flavor and smell and was salty. I liked it.
I looked at Anya and asked, “I am still drunk, but I think some champagne would be really great with this. Do you think it would be OK?” I am not sure what I was asking for, I guess because she was a doctor, she could more objectively assess if I was going to pass out. Yes, I had drunk more tonight than I had in a very long time, but I was pleasantly fuzzy at the moment.
She said, “Yes, dear. Maybe you have had a lot to drink, but it has been over the space of a few hours. A glass of champagne should not be dangerous. And, it does set off this selection very nicely.”
When she said “selection” I made the connection to what I thought I had heard her say earlier in Italian. “So it is the seduction selection?”
She looked over at me sidelong as she was pouring the champagne and said, “yes, ‘la speciale selezione; la selezione seduzione.’ It is a stupid name, but it sounds better in Italian don’t you think? The selection is very good though.”
She had been going to seduce me tonight!
I sat back to consider that. I looked down at my ring and noticed that it was a warm green color. I was actually surprised to find out that I was flattered.
I looked over at her. She was looking at me expectantly.
“Why are some foods considered aphrodisiacs? They don’t actually work do they?
“No, Lynne, the only true aphrodisiac is the human brain. Some so-called aphrodisiacs work by irritating the lining of the urethra causing sensation in the genitals, but most, even the ones rumored to increase blood flow in the sexual organs, have more value in suggestion than in biochemistry.
The caviar and yellow tail are presumed to be aphrodisiacs because of the expense and rarity of the caviar and the pungent and salty taste of the combined fish and roe are reminiscent of the smell of sex-organs. They are supposed to excite the taste-buds.
The beef Carpaccio, well, it has the color and texture of a woman’s vaginal lips. The truffle oil is supposed to also have the clean smell and feel of an excited woman” She looked a little embarrassed as her cheeks colored slightly as she said that. I found it touching that she was being frank, even though she realized that I might not appreciate the comparison.
She had stopped there. I looked over at the oysters and tried to work that one out. I noticed that she was watching me silently. I looked at her and she for real, full on blushed this time.
Interesting.
I got the feeling that she was rarely caught embarrassed about anything. I felt empowered and still flirty. It seems that the tables had temporarily turned and right now, she was responding to my teasing.
I decided to ‘up the ante’ and flirt in a capacity I did not know I possessed and said as breathlessly and as innocently as I could muster, “And the oysters: how do they work?”
She took a deep breath and said, “Some scientists have surmised that they have zinc and dopamine which act on the arousal centers of the brain. But the obvious connection is that they are very sensual in their raw presentation.”
I still wasn’t getting it and knitted my brows in confusion. She evidently could tell and took another deep breath and sighed before she dove in head first and explained.
“They resemble lubricated labia. They are slippery and eating them from the shell looks and sounds much like cunnilingus.” With that she reached over and grabbed one to demonstrate.
Oh My! The tables turned just like that and I watched her transfixed. She lifted the shell to her nose and sniffed it. “You can appreciate the clean briny aroma.” She brought it to her lips and said, “I like to taste it naked first.” And she ran her tongue through the glistening folds of the raw mollusk. I knew she had to be playing it up for my benefit, but I immediately saw why it was so sensual. I know I was blushing. I had eaten a lot of raw oysters and had never made the connection, but then again, cunnilingus was a funny dirty word to me and not an activity that I had ever considered doing. I had never even seen another woman’s aroused pussy. Don’t get me wrong, I knew the anatomy and had placed more Foley-catheters than I care to count, but it was all business. I knew what mine did when I masturbated, but the angle was wrong to see what all of the swelling and glistening was about.
She then raised the shell and noisily slid its contents into her mouth, chewed it and then swallowed. “Delightful.” She declared, “your turn.”
Oh dear, show-time.
I asked her timidly, “Do I have to lick it?
She burst out laughing. “No Lynne, I was teasing you with that, but you should sniff it for the aroma and eat the first one without any sauce. Its natural liquor is quite good and is fresh and a little salty.”
I ate it and said it was very good. Then she spoke, “The taste of the liquor is one of the closest things I can think of that actually tastes like a healthy woman’s excited pussy.”
OK, there is such a thing as being too frank. I turned scarlet and she chuckled.
The main dish was a stuffed pork loin with cinnamon, cloves, raisins, and almonds. It was very tasty. I love the aromatic taste of cloves and identified it with Anya’s scent.
For dessert, the dumbwaiter opened up to a little fondue tower set with fruit. I looked closely as she set it down and saw strawberries, bananas, grapes, and marshmallows surrounding the running bowls of chocolate. Yummy!
She said “let me do you,” I held my breath, but she grabbed a long silver fork and speared a strawberry. I noticed that the green part had been removed as she passed it through the chocolate waterfall. She then turned to me and aimed for my mouth.
Oh, OK.
I grabbed the matching silver fork and speared a marshmallow passing it through the fountain and fed her also. It was very sensuous and the chocolate tasted divine.
We had eaten about half of the selection when it happened. I was moving the fork towards her mouth with a piece of orange when a drop of chocolate escaped from the pointy end of the fruit. Luckily, it didn’t get on her expensive silk cami, but it landed right above the lace concealing her cleavage. Without thinking, I said “ooh, sorry.” And reached over with my finger and wiped the drop off of the top of her breast and stuck my finger into my mouth.
She looked at me as I did and I paused with my finger in my mouth frozen when I realized how forward I had been. She smiled at me and said, “I was waiting for one of us to do that. I am glad it was you because you would have thought I did it on purpose.” And she gave a throaty chuckle, and continued, “But let me show you how you should have cleaned it off.”
She took her fork and dragged a strawberry through the chocolate fall. Then she took it off of the fork and grasped it in her long slim fingers and placed it right in the nestle of my breasts where my cleavage started. The fruit was cool, but the chocolate was warm and slippery. She winked at me and then bent over and removed it with her mouth. Grasping it in her teeth, she moved in and made to kiss me with it. I opened my mouth to receive it and she pushed the entire berry into my open mouth with a thrust of her tongue, touched her lips to mine and then ducked her head back and looked down at my chest.
“Helas, I made a mess.” I looked down and there was a smear of chocolate coating the valley between my breasts and both sides of the swell.
In order for me to see, I had to push out my chest a little and Anya must have thought I was presenting myself to her (maybe I was) and dove in and started to lick the chocolate off of me.
Her warm slippery tongue worked the valley of my breasts and I could feel my nipples respond. I had made a fashion choice before going out that evening and had decided to not wear any underwear. My dress had lace panels and an open back so wearing a bra had been out of the question. I thought that the lace overlay and black colored fabric would camouflage my naturally prominent nipples and under normal conditions, it worked. Having a stunningly attractive blonde-haired French woman licking the skin of my chest was not anything nearly approaching normal for me. I was now all-on-point so to speak.
She finished and took a white linen napkin and dried me off and said, “There all better.” Pronouncing me cleaned up and evidently meeting her approval.
She noticed my pendant and told me that it had turned purple. No Kidding.
I sensed a challenge and felt that Anya was daring me to match her. I do not back down from a challenge, but I was a little unsure about licking her.
I forked a marshmallow, doused it and picked it off of the fork. I looked over at her and then down at her chest. Her breasts were a lot smaller than mine and were unconfined. Since she didn’t have any material pushing them together, she had no place where I could lodge the marshmallow. I thought about just dotting her skin with the spongy sugary candy, but I’ll admit it, I chickened out of that part of the challenge.
“Hmm; no place to put this, I’ll just skip the middle girls.” I popped the sponge into my mouth between my teeth and moved in for a kiss. Since I had backed down from licking her chest, I decided that I would regain some lost cool points by actually kissing her unlike her simple tease with the strawberry.
She leaned forward with a smile and when she had accepted the marshmallow with her mouth, I bit down and severed the spongy candy in two and did not break contact.
This was no closed mouth kiss.
I sealed my mouth to hers and locked us together Now, I was not about to stick my tongue in her mouth when it was full of food! Not because of the “yuck factor”… I mean really? Getting squeamish about swapping some chewed up food with someone because it is gross, but deep French kissing isn’t? OK “baby-bird” food swapping is just disgusting, but fragments of food: pshhh. But, no, I didn’t want to risk getting my tongue bitten. That would ruin the romantic mood and quick. So, no heavy tongue action this round.
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