Sapphic Voices Erotica

A Logical Sequence Of Events For Women Who Work With Their Hands

This Story is rated 'Adults Only' for its sexual content.

With feigned indifference, Robin slid her purchases across the gleaming countertop. “Anything else?” the salesperson inquired.

“No that’s it.” She responded as he began to ring up the assortment of erotic poetry and lesbian mysteries. Another customer approached the counter, assisted by a woman with short, curly brown hair identified by the nametag over her breast as Susan.

“Oh, that’s a great book.” The woman said, tapping her finger on a cover, the artistic rendering of two silhouetted women in an embrace. “Is this yours?”

“Yes.” Admitted Robin, flustered, unable to sustain the brief exchange of pleasantries. She accepted her bag of books from the man, smiled weakly in the direction of Susan, and fled.

Once nested in the safety of her automobile, Robin congratulated herself on her lack of initiative. She should have engaged the woman in conversation! She was not going to make new friends by sticking to her old cautious habits. Robin repeated Susan’s name three times, and made a mental note of what she could remember – brown eyes, a tousled crown of light brown curls, slight build. If Robin should run into her again, she’d be ready.

On her way home from work, a week later, she found an excuse to stop by the bookstore. She really should get her nephew a birthday present, and it was on the way home from work, anyway. A quick circuit around the store verified that Susan was not there. Robin, somewhat disappointed, browsed among the shelves dejectedly.

“Hey there!” Robin heard a voice behind her.

Robin turned to see Susie Salesperson with a cart full of materials, coming towards her, smiling. Robin’s pulse quickened. “Hi!” she replied, smiled, and tried to think of something to say. She hadn’t really thought of what she might say should Susan be there.

Susan brought the cart to a halt. “Are you looking for something special today?”

“Actually, today I’m looking for a gift.” Robin nervously smoothed the flyaway strands at her temples, tucking them behind her ears, which were beginning to warm. She smiled shyly.

“What kind of gift?” Susan asked, hoping she didn’t hear the word ‘husband’, or ‘girlfriend’.

“My nephew is going to be twelve next week.”

“That’s a hard age to buy for. What’s he into?” Susan liked the girlish lilt of Robin’s voice, the way her hands worried the seams of her pockets, needing an occupation.

Robin awkwardly gestured to the obvious, making Susan feel dumb. They were standing in the Astronomy section. “Of course!” Susan said, smiling at the carpet, running her own hand through her hair. “Well, if you need anything, my name is..”

“Susan.” Robin supplied.

Susan looked down at her shirt, knowing she had forgotten her nametag. She gave Robin a questioning look, then recovered. “Yep, that’s me.” She engaged her full cart, and gave a little wave to Robin as she headed across the store.

Robin noted Susan’s retreat - the faded blue jeans were ragged on the cuffs in back where the material met the floor. She wore a green quilt vest over a white tee shirt. The tops of her very pale feet had been crossed with thick, brown leather straps. One small green bead dangled from each ear lobe.

Unable to concentrate on her gift search, Robin wandered into the gay section. She heard Susan taking customers at the counter, sure she’d not be surprised again. She bent over, looking at a promising volume, when she saw Susan’s feet from the corner of her eye. She found Susan standing slightly behind her, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. Susan squatted down so that they were almost eye to eye whispered, “Now, is that appropriate reading material for a twelve year old?”

Robin chuckled, chagrined at being caught off guard again. “Uh, not exactly. You caught me red handed.” Both women resumed an upright position. Robin’s face was flushed with embarrassment, a self-mocking smile playing on her lips.

“Well, I’ll tell you a secret. That one’s not as good as the one you got last week, anyway – so you don’t have to look so guilty, and I found this for you in back.” She handed Robin an oblong box – a make your own crystal kit. “I thought your nephew might like it, but I’ll leave you to shop.” A customer intruded, asking Susan for help. Susan went off to assist the woman, but not before winking over her shoulder at Robin, who stood paralyzed, holding the box.

Robin found an empty seat in a corner, and sat herself down. The kit was a great gift really, cheap, and there were none on the shelves. She’d have to thank Susan before leaving the store, which by the looks of it was about to close anyway. She stood in line, watching Susan and her co-worker with their customers. She wanted to be sure to get into Susan’s line, but didn’t want to be obvious about it. She milled about until she was sure to be the last person in line.

Susan grinned as Robin approached, the box held in the crook of her arm. “Find anything else you like?”

Robin nodded, she certainly had. “Yeah, but I’m going to be good today. Listen, thanks a lot for finding this for me.” She slid the box across the counter.

“No problem.” Susan swiped the box through the scanner, but nothing happened. She deftly punched the bar code number into the register, “So, do you live around here?” She hoped to sound casual, like she was making polite conversation. Inane chitchat drove her mad usually, but she was quite willing to participate when necessary.

“Yeah, I just moved in. I used to live in Kingsburg.”

“Did you move by yourself, or with your family?” Susan cleared the register and started over, she’d keyed in the wrong number, her fingers not cooperating, her mind temporarily absent from the task before her.

“By myself. I got a job downtown, and the drive was killing me. I needed a change. Besides, now I can go out to the strip and not have to drive an hour to get home.” Robin smiled, pleased she had figured out how to work in the fact that she was a lesbian without spelling it out.

“Welcome to the neighborhood.” Susan grinned, holding her hand out for Robin’s cash, the exchange of money completed in silence, each was acutely aware of the brush of fingertips against an open palm. “What’s your name?”

“Robin.”

“Well, Robin,” Susan said, grasping the woman’s outstretched hand, and giving it a quick squeeze rather than shaking it in the customary fashion. “Its nice to see you again.”

“Would you like to go out for coffee or something?” For a moment, Robin was stunned. Had the words actually come out of her own mouth? What was wrong with her? From one extreme to the other.

Susan blinked, also not believing the offer, but certainly impressed by Robin’s spontaneity. “Sure, let me finish up here, unless you meant some other time?”

“Anytime really,” Robin rushed, almost cutting Susan off, her ears tingling. “Now. Now is good. I can wait outside.”

“That’s okay, you can stay in the store. I’ll come find you. I know where you usually end up.”

Robin blushed again nodding her head in silent agreement, smiling self-deprecatingly. “Well, it seems you’ve read all of the books there, so I wouldn’t be too judgmental.”

Susan raised her palms in mock surrender, “Hey, I work here, lady.” She winked.

“Good excuse.” Robin allowed, smiling broadly, turning toward her favorite section. She sat on the floor, facing the erotica, closed her eyes and tried to think of conversation topics, fought the urge to run to the bathroom and tidy her hair. She felt excited, brave, and unpredictable. To curb the galloping sensation in her chest, she tried for a meditative pose, breathing deeply into her abdomen, exhaling fully, slowly. After several breaths, she began to feel disconnected from her surroundings, realizing she was only making herself lightheaded. Robin turned her back to the books, preferring to be aware of Susan’s approach this time, and just savor the wild feeling growing inside.

Susan poked her head around the corner, “Ready?”

Robin smiled at the extended helping hand, grabbed it, and let Susan pull her to her feet. “Thanks.” She said, surprised by Susan’s steely grip, and strength.

They walked out into the chilly spring evening, surveyed the shopping center for t options. “Are you hungry?” Robin asked.

“Yep, I’m always hungry.” Robin patted her flat stomach. “Have you been to Nitty Gritty?”

“Yes, I love that place!” Robin wondered if she would actually be able to eat real food with her new friend. Chewing, swallowing, digesting – a lot of coordination when she was feeling not the least bit hungry.

“Okay – do you want to meet there, take my car, yours?” Susan considered, very briefly, the fact that Robin was a stranger, and the smart thing to do would be to meet her there. She also considered the possibilities of sitting in Robin’s car, or her own - maybe after dinner, in the dark.

Robin shrugged her shoulders, “Is it closer or farther from where you live – the restaurant?”

“Closer.” Susan stated.

“How about I just follow you there? I still get lost easily.” She smiled apologetically.

“No problem, I’m in the jeep, how about you?” Susan hit the alarm on her key ring, making the little green jeep honk and light up momentarily.

“The black one, there.” Robin pointed to her car – a Volkswagen bug. The first new car she’d ever owned.

“Nice, very cute!” Susan admired, “You, not the car.” She winked wickedly, then turned and jogged to the jeep, dodging the sharp breeze. “Don’t worry, I won’t lose you.” She called over her shoulder.

Robin hurried inside her own car, turning on the heater; winter was certainly trying to make a comeback. Shivering and grinning like an idiot, she backed out of her space, allowing Susan to take the lead. She followed the jeep through neighborhoods of stately brick homes with wide porches, a tenement, then past the college. They arrived at Nitty Gritty in less than ten minutes, parked in an adjacent lot side by side.

Robin stepped out of her car. Susan held the door open for her. “It would have taken me thirty minutes to get here!”

“You’ll get the hang of it eventually. I’ll draw you a map.” Susan locked and shut Robin’s door. “There are only a few places you shouldn’t go alone, or late at night. Your car should be safe here; it’s lit pretty well. No towing.” Susan’s curls waved jauntily in the wind, the light giving them a red gold hue.

They scurried, heads bent into the wind toward the restaurant. The Nitty Gritty, famous for its collection of coffees and specialty drinks from around the world was cozy, fires burning in its three fireplaces, and crowded as usual.

They stood in the cafeteria-style line, looking at the possibilities. “ What do you usually get?” Susan peered through the counter glass at cheesecake heavily marbled with chocolate and covered with fresh berries.

“Everything.” Robin answered, distracted by a plate of three Spanish cheeses, paired with wine. She was ravenous suddenly, eyeing a serving of strawberries Romanoff, “I want one of everything.”

“Me too.” Admitted Susan, noting Robin’s quandary over what to get and what not to get. “Why don’t you pick some things, and I’ll get some things – and we’ll share?”

Robin agreed “Any restrictions?”

“Uhm …” Susan eyed the coffee menu. “I don’t eat meat, and we need at least two desserts.”

Robin placed her order, opting for wine instead of coffee, and scooted herself toward the cashier. She watched Robin’s earrings sway as she negotiated her dinner, hands stuffed into her back pockets, feet splayed apart, reading the sign above her head. Very nice, indeed, she thought.

Susan caught up to Robin, digging in her pocket for her wallet. Anticipating her objections, Robin placed her hand on top of Susan’s, “I invited you out.”

“For coffee, not for a ten course meal.” Susan said pointedly.

“Yes, for coffee or ‘something’, if I remember correctly, and this is something, so just let it go. My treat. Okay?”

Susan shook her head in disagreement, “If you hadn’t asked me, I would have asked you, eventually. So, you should allow me …”

“To ask me out some other time, then. Deal?” Robin tilted her head and smiled cajolingly; now she was wheedling a date out of the woman. What had gotten into her?

They were holding up the line, Susan noticed, consenting. “Deal. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Robin signed the credit card slip, and picked out a fire warmed corner, unloaded her plates: cheese, strawberries Romanoff, eggplant dip with pita bread, wine and pomegranate juice.

Susan unloaded her tray, rearranging the dishes to fit on the small table, cheesecake, gazpacho, grilled veggie pizza, and a crepe of unknown origin. Susan gallantly whisked away their trays, returning with silverware, napkins, her coffee, and a carafe of water, all bundled efficiently in her wide hands.

Susan eyed the feast in front of them, “Shall we?”

The food, in its glorious diversity, occupied them completely. Susan ate everything at once, combining eggplant dip with mushrooms on pita bread, insisting Robin try her new creation. Then immediately followed it with a strawberry, some pizza.

Robin tasted wedges of cheese, sampled her wine, and made an orderly progression from tiny tapas plate to the next, savoring everything – even Susan’s creations, which were unusual, but quite good. “So, how long have you been at the bookstore?”

Susan blotted gazpacho from her lips with the napkin. “I’ve worked there part time mostly, about two years. I have a few clients, a few gigs around town, as a massage therapist. You?”

Robin immediately focused on Susan’s hands, long fingers, short nails – neat, clean. “Uhm ... I’m a pastry chef at Lane Street, downtown.”

Susan washed down a bite of cheesecake headed in the wrong direction, “You’re a chef and I’m making you eat mushrooms on top of goat cheese?”

“Actually its pretty good. I do pastry, breads mostly, desserts, things that are bad for you.” Robin forgot to antiseptically slice off a portion of the pizza, and just tore a piece off with her fingers “Your creations are divine.”

“What do you wear?” Susan asked, gauging by Robin’s rosy cheeks and abandonment of proper silverware, which no doubt she knew volumes about, that the wine was getting to her.

Robin stopped chewing. “What do I wear? Where?” She though briefly of her underwear drawer, the black lace bra and bikini set her sister gave her, the cotton panties she normally wore.

“At work, what do you wear?” Susan smiled at Robin’s perplexed blue eyes, narrowing, suspicious. A few more wispy strands deserted her bun in back. “And what do you do with your hair? Its pretty long.”

Robin swiped at the wisps, and tried to tuck them behind her ears with no luck. “A baseball cap, or little beret for the hair. I keep it up, braided, or in a bun. Uhm - a uniform – at work. What do you wear?” Robin could only picture a white tee shirt, maybe close fitting yoga pants, the little karate shoes, no – Susan probably worked barefoot. Perhaps she wore a tank top without a bra. Robin suddenly hated the green vest, obscuring her view of Susan’s breasts.

“You see what I’m wearing. I also have uniforms, scrubs mostly.” Susan, wiped invisible crumbs from her shirt.

“Are you”, Robin though about whether she should ask or not. They could talk about other things and probably should, but she did really want to know. Imagining Susan in a tank top had somehow thrown her off course, her mind was not on acceptable ‘meet and greet’ topics. In for a penny, in for a pound, her mother used to say, “seeing anyone?”

Susan placed a bite of cheese on a slice of strawberry, glanced at Robin who was artificially absorbed in opening a piece of pita bread. “No, I’ve not been seeing anyone, but there is someone I’d like to see.” She popped it in her mouth, and looked across the table pointedly, at Robin. “And you? Robin? What would you like to see?”


Robin shook her head, mouth too full of bread to answer before swallowing, which was difficult under Susan’s amused scrutiny. “I’m not seeing anyone either.” She admitted, reaching for her nearly empty wine glass, regretting she couldn’t have another – she still had to drive. There wasn’t a whole lot more to be said, was there? Somehow they had skipped from appreciating food, to discussing their jobs and attire, of all things, and now this. “I know this is silly, but what’s your last name, your birthday, and your favorite …… anything.”

Susan laughed, unsettled by Robin’s pacing. Had they not been talking about birthday presents in her store an hour ago? Did Robin know she was picking Susan up? Was it the other way around? “ Rosenberg, June 10, I think I’m probably a good deal older than you. I like…”. Susan thought of ice cream, authors, colors, flavors, friends, music – a favorite, “surprises, good surprises.”

Robin repeated aloud, “Rosenberg, June 10, surprises.” Nodded her head, the wine was not going to allow the information to stay there easily. “How old do you think I am?” Robin pushed the plate in front of her away, disinterested for the time being.

“I think, ” Susan said, smiling curiously at her own lack of timing, wanting to reach across the crowded table to caress Robin’s hot cheek, but instead slipping her sandal off, inserted it into Robin’s pant leg, searching for bare skin, “you are old enough.”

Startled, Robin blurted “For what?” Susan’s toes were cold. Robin was instantly alert, chills racing from her calf straight to her crotch. The brief sedation of alcohol replaced by an adrenaline awareness.

“Old enough to read dirty books, drink wine with strangers, dress and undress me in your mind, ply me with food - follow me home, perhaps?” She leaned closer, conspiratorially, “Old enough to like surprises?” Susan played her last little card in whatever game this was - a game of two nice girls without a logical sequence of events. She let her toes journey slowly into Robin’s warm crotch, flexed her foot.

Robin, disbelief evident in her sharp intake of breath, the accusing stare, the startled reflex that rattled every piece of cutlery on the table, swore, heat collecting where Susan’s foot pressed rhythmically, playfully. “Fuck.”

“Exactly.” Susan grinned, picking up a strawberry and dipping it in Romanoff cream. She leaned back in her chair, and licked the tip of the fruit, cream clinging to her tongue, lips. Robin watched breathless, eyes burning, crotch screaming, as Susan ate the rest of her berries, each dipped in luxurious cream, each lovingly licked, then devoured. Robin entertained one thought, one phrase as she watched the performance - I want to be that.

“I think our dinner is over.” Susan said, slowly sitting up, withdrawing her limb and digits, putting her shoes on, wiping her mouth. “I must thank you for treating me so well. I’ll have to think of something special for next time, perhaps a surprise for you.” She smiled sweetly, wondering if Robin could hear the quivering hesitation in her words - pitch, tone, and rhythm all gone to hell. What the fuck was she doing?

“Susan”, Robin said, her own voice odd and out of proportion to her own ears, but not caring. “You said you’d give me a map.” She dug in her purse, found an envelope, a pen – held it out to Susan. Both women noticed the vibration of the paper; Robin’s hands shook.

Susan took the paper, the pen, stacked some plates, and began to draw lines on the envelope in the clearing she’d made. Robin watched her hands, the muscles in her arms, the curls, the earrings. The things she new about Susan would fit on the back of a postage stamp. An older woman named Rosenberg, a Gemini, wide hands, flexible hands - strong, capable hands.

Susan stood, gave the paper and pen back to Robin. The act of writing, linear thinking, and practical matters, returned her to a more sensible state. “I normally don’t behave so dreadfully; I couldn’t help myself. I’m not sorry though. I do like surprises, yours or mine. I’ll see you later maybe.” Susan allowed herself to tuck a few strands of hair behind Robin’s ear as she passed. It was impossible. Filaments as ephemeral as spider silk eluded her, leaving her fingers aching for a sure grip, leaving her unsatisfied.

Robin sat, disoriented. Susan was gone, and she was unsure of what to do. Run after her. That was the first thought, but what exactly would she say when she caught her? Robin, out of steam for the moment, looked at the array of dishes in their wake, proof that Susan had been here. She had said, what? I’ll see you later, not sorry. Robin was certainly not sorry.

She looked at the piece of paper in her hand – you are here Susan had written, very small, a star marking the spot. She’d drawn the freeway, the turns and street names back to the bookstore, labeled neatly with a little drawing of an open book; Susan was good, she could upgrade from the back of the postage stamp to the front of an envelope, June 10, vegetarian, loves dessert, artist. On the opposite side of the you are here, another main thoroughfare, side streets, a little house, rendered as a child might, with a tree in the yard, a window with panes and patterned curtains, a door and peephole – I am here. She turned over the envelope reading quickly, Susan Rosenberg 1315 Claremont, Apt. B, a phone #.

Robin finished her juice, visited the restroom, and left the restaurant. She found her car. The jeep was gone. She sat warming up, deciphering the map. She was closer to Susan’s than to her own place, the Nitty Gritty and bookstore in between. The directions were clear and simple. Robin thought of Susan that way, too – clear, simple.

She found the old apartment building well lit, spotted the jeep behind the closed gates. She pulled up to the security keypad, pushed the apartment number, and held her breath waiting for an answer.

“Come on up.” the distorted female voice instructed. The gate opened. Robin drove in, parked. Above her, on the second floor, a triangle of light from an open door drew her. She took the steps slowly, the iron rail cold beneath her hands, focused on the mechanics of climbing.

She entered the warm apartment, noting Susan’s green vest and coat flung in a rattan lounger. It was the right place. She shut and locked the door, removed her own coat, adding it and her purse to the pile. Robin removed her shoes out of habit, reached to unfasten the barrette pulling at her tangled hair.

“Don’t, please.” Susan hated to reveal herself, but she wanted to open her own present. She emerged from the shadowy corner by the window where she’d watched Robin ascend. Susan walked around the couch, approaching Robin from behind, laying her palms on her shoulders, exerting a gentle pressure. She allowed her hands to slide, noting the lean, defined muscle. She sampled the scents at the nape of Robin’s neck, kissed the even finer hair there, and allowed it to tickle her lips, her face. Robin bent her head forward allowing Susan full access, reached behind her to hold something to keep her steady. She found the waist band of Susan’s sweat pants, slipped her thumbs under it, against Susan’s abdomen, tightened her grip, and gave herself over to being explored.

Susan opened her palms, and swept them over Robin’s back, around her ribcage, over her breasts, the slight swell of Robin’s belly, and wide hips. She slipped her hands underneath her sweater, finding landmarks and places of interest she was anxious to revisit at length. Her trip was interrupted by Robin’s cool fingers raking through her pubic hair, steadily heading south. Susan backed away, with effort. She bit Robin’s ear lobe playfully, “Ever heard of foreplay?” she whispered.

“You did that already. Remember your foot in my crotch?” Robin shoved her hands into the rear waistband of Susan’s pants, intrigued by the lack of underclothes. “I should have asked you what you don’t wear while you’re working.” She raked the remnants of her fingernails across both cheeks, eliciting a surprised grunt from Susan. Taking advantage of her distraction, Robin slid the elastic over her compact hips, letting the baggy pants drop to the floor. She smothered Susan’s objections with her mouth, her tongue, until they were both swaying, unsteady.

Robin detected the hint of her surrendered dessert. “You’re going to pay for eating my strawberries.” She deftly pulled the tee shirt over Susan’s head, leaving her standing in a pool of her own clothing. Robin smiled, stepped back, taking in the sight. “Maybe you’re to old to keep up with me, Ms. Rosenberg.”

Susan disagreed, picking up her clothes, turning toward the bedroom. “I’m not the one getting lost all the time, trying to catch up, lady.” Susan disappeared into the dark hallway. Robin waited, expecting her to return. When she did not, Robin followed, hands outstretched in front of her. She found a doorframe, reached around the wall and found a switch - the bathroom. The hall ended with two doors opposite one another. A muted line of light glowed beneath the door to her left. She turned off the bathroom light, and opened the door, expecting to encounter Susan. The room was lit by a small lamp, a queen sized bed pushed into a corner. The bedside table was crammed with books.

A warm tickly sensation wiggled behind Robin’s ear, she jumped, turned to find Susan standing behind her, smug. Susan playfully pushed Robin backward, waving her finger threateningly at her vulnerable, ticklish spots, poking them. Robin halted when her shins hit the bed. Susan cupped Robin’s round face in her hands, stroking her cheeks, tipped her face for a kiss she’d be planning since she first laid eyes on her. A slow kiss, exploratory in nature, unrushed. Susan posed Robin, hands up in the air, pulled off her sweater, reached deftly around her and unfastened her bra with one hand, letting it fall to the floor. “Take off your pants.” Susan directed, stepping back, watching Robin do as she was told. Robin peeled out of underwear, pants and socks in one motion, kicking the cocooned ball of fabric to the side. “Turn around.” Susan said, admiring Robin’s curves, as Robin complied.

Susan unclasped the barrette imprisoning Robin’s fragrant hair, a scent that defied classification. Something from the kitchen, perfume, whatever was in her? It was sweet, delicate, intoxicating as it billowed out of the clasp, cascading in rippling waves midway down her back. Susan buried her face in it, reached around Robin, cupped her heavy breasts, excited herself further by rubbing her own hard nipples against Robin’s back, the filaments of her hair.

Robin disengaged herself from Susan’s embrace, crawled to the middle of the bed, pulled Susan by the hand to join her, rewarding her with a kiss when she arrived. “Lay down and close your eyes.” Susan did as she was instructed.

Robin, on all fours, positioned herself above Susan who dutifully kept her eyes closed. Robin bent her head, allowing her hair to whisk over Susan’s face. “You will replace my Strawberries.”, she informed Susan, who shivered in anticipation of being consumed. Robin sampled a nipple, followed the outline of Susan’s ribs with her tongue, and kissed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, her hair sweeping afterwards.

Susan’s body trembled, taught, anxious. Robin slipped a finger lazily into Susan’s creamy center, then another, testing the length and depth of the fruit opening wide beneath her fingers. Susan’s hands tangled in Robin’s mane, spread over her straining abdomen. Robin found Susan’s engorged clit, giving it the same attention Susan had given the berries, taking her time, keenly aware of the quivering muscles of Susan’s thighs, her moans and grunts escalating. Unable to bear her own agony, Robin slipped her free hand between her own legs, found her clit awash in her own spilling sea, and pushed them both over the edge.

Susan bucked and growled through her orgasm. Robin’s explosion was self-contained. Robin refocused on Susan’s pleasure, mounting again, as she fucked her through another orgasm, allowed her to rest momentarily, and then sucked her clit until Susan begged her to stop. Robin preferred to torture her a little, continued playing with her despite her objections.

“You’re going to kill me! I know you can hear me.” Susan laughed, trying to evade Robin’s insistent provocations. Robin giggled, trying to keep her still. Susan escaped Robin’s slippery hold, and took advantage of Robin’s surprise, to pin her, face down, on the bed.

“I’ll be good! I’ll behave!” Robin promised, laughing, realizing she really was at Susan’s mercy.

“Are you sorry?” Susan asked, biting Robin’s shoulder, satisfied by her startled shriek.

“Why should I be sorry? You weren’t?" Robin squealed as Susan quickly pinned both of Robin’s hands together, and playfully spanked Robin’s tush.

“I asked you if you were sorry.” Susan smacked Robin’s ass again, harder.

“Yes, Ms. Rosenberg, I’m sorry.” Robin played along.

Susan licked Robin’s ear and bit the tip. “What are you sorry for?”

“For not doing what you asked me to do.” Robin answered.

“Good girl.” Susan complimented her eager student. “I’m so glad you see the error of your ways, but it won’t keep you from being punished. Assume the position.” Susan released Robin, taking the weight off her back.

“What position?” Robin asked, unclear.

“Hands and knees on the bed. Spread your legs. At no time are you to change your position until I say so. Understand?” Susan was business like in her instructions.

Robin arranged herself, steeling herself for a spanking, or worse.

“How old are you Robin?” Susan knelt behind her, slipping her hand between Robin’s legs, opening her.

“Thirty.” Robin answered, tilting her ass up to get Susan’s fingers where she needed them.

“So unfortunate,” Susan chided, “we haven’t even started, and you’ve broken the rules.” She withdrew her probing fingers, placing her other hand on Robin’s hip to keep her in place, spanked Robin’s cheek. “Count to thirty, Robin.”

Robin counted the slaps, which were loud, but did not hurt, making it to ten before Susan maneuvered her long fingers into her core. “Keep counting.”

“Eleven.” Robin said, opening herself as wide as possible without moving, accommodating Susan’s deep entry, and slow retreat. Robin gathered all of her strength to clutch at the fingers leaving her, “Twelve”, she counted, as Susan continued to fuck her at a deliberate pace.

“Keep counting.” Directed Susan, “and answer my questions. Do you like this?”

“Seven… seventeen, yes.” Robin reminded herself that eighteen was next.

“And this?” Susan included Robin’s clit in her stroke.

“God yes!” Robin wobbled, but didn’t fall. “Eighteen.”

“Good. If you can keep your position, I’ll allow you to touch yourself, because I want to see you do it. When you read naughty books, Robin, do you play with yourself?”

“Yes, twenty.” Robin reached between her own legs, stimulating herself, Susan steadying her. Susan picked up the pace, noting Robin’s breathless count, adding another finger to her assault.

“Twenty-six, twenty-seven, eight!” Robin grunted, her orgasm cresting, “Thirty!” Susan wrapped her arm around Robin’s waist to keep her upright, to keep fucking her. Robin abandoned pleasuring herself, riding the waves Susan created deep within her belly. Arms exhausted, she laid her face and arms on the bedspread, ass still in the air, letting Susan have her way.

“Very impressive.” Susan complimented, pulling Robin’s ankles, initiating her total collapse. “You are indeed a multi-tasking wonder.” She kissed the butt cheek she’d fondly slapped, “Next time we’ll have an anatomy lesson.”

Susan excused herself, leaving Robin face down in the pillows, returned with a bottle of wine, and one wine glass. Robin flipped herself over; watched Susan pour, then offer her the first taste. Robin sat up, took the glass with shaking hands, “Mmmm, sweet. Very good.”

“Thanks, and how do you like the wine?” Susan winked at her little joke.

“The wine is not bad, either. I like you both.” Robin smiled, her face still flushed from her exertions; she handed the glass back.

“I like you too.” Susan admitted. “Although, I think the I like you part comes first , and the other things come later. I’m not complaining though, its more fun your way.”

“I don’t necessarily have a way, but its good you don’t have any objections.” Robin accepted the wine glass again, held it still while Susan filled it a second time. “Or do you?”

“No objections, only ulterior motives.” Susan smiled slyly. “Drink up!”

“You’re trying to get me drunk? I’m already in your bed!” Robin laughed, “What more do you want? I can’t be a good student if I’m drunk.”

Susan cupped Robin’s face in her hands again, kissed her gently, timelessly. “I want to make sure you can’t leave tonight. I’ll even make you breakfast in the morning. No weird stuff, just regular food. How about it?”

“Deal.” Robin agreed, touched by Susan’s earnestness. “I don’t have to be bribed, you know.”

Susan grinned, “Its not a bribe, really, you have no idea what you’re in for.”

If you have enjoyed Mary Dawn's "A Logical Sequence Of Events For Women Who Work With Their Hands", then please be certain to  Contact The Writer  and thank her for posting this Story.

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