Lesbian Lust Page 2

  “Don’t think I’m pushy or anything, but…”

  “What?”

  “Will you have dinner with me?”

  I grin, nibble her knee again, the inside of one pale white thigh. I run my fingers over a dark brown mole on her flank. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Me.”

  “Count me in.”

  REUNION AT ST. MARY’S

  Catherine Lundoff

  Bridget Marie Riordan O’Halloran was depressed. It wasn’t so much that work was insanely stressful, though that was part of it, or that Vic and all her friends seemed to have forgotten her birthday, though that didn’t help. It was the clipping from the parish newspaper, courtesy of her mother, that put her over the edge. Sister Agnes Mercy Byrnes had been taken up to heaven, or so it said. But from what Bridget remembered of her, she was more likely to be torturing the Devil below than hovering on a cloud above.

  Where she was didn’t matter so much as the fact that she was gone. It was the passing of an era. Sister Agnes had been the terror, among other things, of Bridget’s high school years. She’d spent many hours over the years masturbating over her memories of the spanking the nun had once given her in the principal’s office. Imagining those firm hands on her young flesh gave her a thrill even now. She pictured Sister Agnes going even further and pulling down her white virginal panties and… Vic walked in a moment later to find her with her hand between her legs.

  “Hi, sweetie. Ooh, that looks like fun. What triggered this?” Vic grabbed the little clipping as Bridget jerked her hand out of her pants. Vic gave her a look of pure disbelief. “You’re jilling off to Sister Agnes’s obituary?”

  Bridget turned bright red and tried to come up with a good explanation. Then she gave up and went on the attack instead. “You forgot my birthday! Some girlfriend you are.” She crossed her arms over her chest to hide the nipples poking through her shirt. Sister Agnes’s hands had been pretty amazing in that last fantasy.

  “I knew you were going to say that.” Vic grinned triumphantly as she dropped onto the couch. She ran one hand down Bridget’s thigh with a possessive pressure that never failed to make her pay attention. “I’ve got a little surprise for you, babe. Kind of appropriate too, given your new ghoulish hobby. We’re going to your tenth high school reunion. My treat.”

  Bridget’s jaw dropped. No way. Sister Julia and Father Williams would run them out of Sacred Heart Parish at the head of a torch-wielding mob. Vic just didn’t understand how things worked at parochial school. But before she could say a word, Vic had her in a lip-lock that soon turned to other things. Once Vic was holding Bridget down and pounding her fist into her wet and desperate pussy, going home for the reunion sounded just fine. Besides, it was two months away; she had plenty of time to change Vic’s mind.

  But somehow, they never got around to talking about it. Every time she tried, Vic was too busy or was all over her so she gave up, resigning herself to the trip from hell. It would be even worse if they ended up staying with her parents. She just hoped her mother wouldn’t say the rosary over them again when she thought they were sleeping.

  Despite all her worries, she started to wonder if some of her old friends would be there. Monica had come out after graduation. That was inevitable. If James Dean had ever been reincarnated as a Catholic high school girl, Monica was it. Then there was Mary Eileen. She’d never forget that one slumber party where they all decided to practice kissing. From what she could remember, Mary Eileen wanted to practice a few other things too, but they’d all been too scared to try them. As for the rest of the girls who ran around with them, well, if Bridget knew her budding Dykes on Bikes, they were the local chapter by now.

  By the time they got ready to leave town, Bridget was pretty much resigned to the trip. It made it easier that Vic was so very obviously up to something. That was usually good. Bridget even resisted taking a peek in the toy bag when she loaded it in the car. No point in spoiling the surprise, whatever it was. At least they were staying at a hotel, so no matter what, there was a bright side.

  Vic wasn’t letting anything slip, though. She was too tired for sex in the hotel they stopped at halfway there, which was weird, and she wasn’t talking much during the drive, which was weirder. Bridget was getting antsy and it brought out the pushy bottom in her. She wheedled, she whined, she sulked, anything to get Vic to do something with or to her—anything at all. She squirmed against the fabric of the car seat imagining a few of those things. But for the first time in years, Vic wasn’t going for it. She smiled when Bridget pouted and stonewalled when she whined until her girlfriend thought she’d go nuts before they got there.

  Finally, just when she thought she couldn’t take another minute, they pulled into the hotel parking lot a few blocks from St. Mary’s. Vic slammed her door shut and headed over to check them in without a backward glance.

  Bridget took this as a good sign. It meant she was well and truly annoyed and in full top mode. Maybe Vic would spank her. She loved that, especially if she had to confess her sins beforehand. Good Catholic girls never forget their early training, as Sister Agnes used to say.

  Bridget grinned, her spirits lifting as she unpacked the car.

  She hauled the bags into the lobby just in time for Vic to get the key, then trailed after her up the stairs to the third floor. Evidently she hadn’t earned using the elevator. She grinned in anticipation as she gasped for breath. This would be good.

  But when they finally got upstairs and she got the bags lined up the way Vic liked them, her girlfriend disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, leaving her to squirm on the bed. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she got up and checked the bathroom door. Vic had locked it. Bridget stared at it in complete disbelief and tried to think of what she’d done that was so awful.

  By the time Vic came out, she was feeling contrite and just aching to atone for her sins. Especially since Vic was wearing her favorite suit, the black one that made her look hotter than… well, any other butch Bridget could think of. Vic grinned at her and grabbed one of the bags, then she gestured at the bathroom. “Go hop in the shower, then put these on when you get out. Don’t put on anything else. The dance is tonight and I’ve got a surprise or two for you.”

  Bridget took the bag reluctantly, wondering whether things would be better if she groveled enough. But Vic didn’t seem interested so she gave up and sulked her way into the bathroom. Even a half-hearted attempt at masturbating didn’t help. Finally, she gave up and decided that she’d get seriously dolled up for the dance. That would make it up to Vic.

  She was a little more optimistic when she stepped out of the shower and dried off. A few moments work with a hair dryer and she was feeling even better about the whole thing. That was when she opened the bag that Vic had given her. A puddle of plaid in green and black stared back at her and she almost shut the bag. No way. Vic couldn’t have done what she thought she’d done. She reached into the bag and pulled out a Catholic school uniform. An old St. Mary’s uniform, to be exact.

  Under the jumper and white blouse that looked way too small for her, she found a bra with lace cups and a thong—and a pair of saddle shoes. These made her giggle. This was going to be some surprise after all. She pulled on the underwear, then the blouse. It barely buttoned across her adult breasts and the cloth gaped every time she took a deep breath, exposing the white lace bra. She pulled on the skirt and realized that it would just about cover her ass. Bridget grinned at her reflection in the mirror and grabbed her makeup.

  A few moments later, a vision that would have made Sister Agnes turn over in her grave sauntered out of the bathroom to Vic’s appreciative whistle. Bridget had made up her lips in a crimson that clashed violently with her red hair, then applied glowing blue eye shadow from her lashes to her eyebrows. Her hair was even done up in multiple little ponytails, just the sort of thing she might have tried in high school if she’d had the nerve.

  Vic came over for an appreciative, giggly kiss. She
ran one hand under the skirt and groped Bridget’s ass in the thong just enough to get her attention before she pulled away. Then she grabbed a small bag from the bed, “C’mon, let’s go. Some folks are waiting for us. Oh, wait, wear this.” She handed Bridget a St. Mary’s blazer.

  Bridget gaped at it. “Where did you find all this stuff? Some kind of Sacred Heart Parish garage sale or something?”

  “I had help. Now c’mon, babe. We want to get there early. I hear they’re doing dinner first.”

  “Oh, yum, church suppers. I can’t wait.” Bridget rolled her eyes and tugged on the blazer. Vic was already holding the door open and ushering her out. Well, maybe the surprise would come afterward. Bridget got just a bit wetter thinking about all the possibilities.

  By the time they pulled up in front of St. Mary’s, the seat was getting damp under her. Not that Vic seemed to notice. She just looked as cool as could be as she pulled into the lot and came around to open Bridget’s door. Bridget got out carefully, trying to hold the minuscule plaid skirt down so it sort of covered her butt. Vic watched her with a dangerous smile and leaned in close to whisper, “I’m planning on seeing a lot more of your ass and pussy tonight than that. But it’s a start.”

  Bridget met her eyes and shivered. She’d been aching to be touched ever since her shower and that only made it worse. She wondered what it would take to get Vic to take her in the bathroom or maybe the girl’s locker room. She’d always had a fantasy about that, one that involved the entire girls’ field hockey team. But who knew? Maybe Vic’s surprise involved her dressing up in the old team uniform. Now there was a thought.

  They passed under a big banner and some streamers welcoming them to the reunion. Bridget forced herself not to groan. Crepe paper. Did it get any cheesier than that? There was Betty Crane waving at her from a registration table crowded with name tags. Bridget didn’t recognize the woman next to her or the guy hovering nearby, but she suspected she’d hear all about it when they got a bit closer. And she was willing to bet that no one would ask a thing about Vic.

  Sure enough, Father William and Sister Julia were fussing with more crepe paper and balloons behind the table and carefully ignoring them. Bridget tugged the jacket closed over her gaping white blouse and grabbed Vic’s hand. It was time to get the evening’s ostracizing underway. “Hi, Betty!” she chirped when they stopped in front of the table. “You look great.” She grinned down at her least favorite former classmate and nearly collapsed laughing when she saw the look on her face.

  “Hi, Bridget. You look…umm…healthy. Let me introduce you to my husband.” Betty grabbed for the bored looking man who was lurking by the bulletin boards. He looked Bridget over and leered but only a little, which was better than she expected of any guy who’d marry Betty.

  Vic stepped between the two of them, making it clear that she wasn’t going to put up with much crap. Bridget watched Betty’s uptight mouth tense as Vic reached out to shake her hand. She wondered if the reunion chair would be wiping her hand off on her skirt under the table. At least the husband was polite about it.

  But a few other classmates came up behind them, and they were able to move on before Bridget could give Betty a piece of her mind. Maybe, she thought as Vic towed her away, tonight would be a good night to tell Father William who had tried to out a third of the class with anonymous notes her senior year. She’d always suspected it was Betty, partially because a lot of the accusations had been wrong.

  But once they walked inside, she forgot all about her former foe. There was Monica waving at them from a side table, black hair cut short and spiky, black leather jacket draped on the back of her chair. There was another woman with her who looked familiar, too. It took Bridget a full minute to recognize Mary Eileen. Who else would wear an outfit that looked suspiciously like an updated version of a field hockey uniform? Bridget was giggling when they sat down next to them. A few more friends from the old days and their girlfriends straggled in after that so it made for a full table.

  In the end, there were eight of them, including almost every girl Bridget had ever wondered about when they were in school together: Monica, Mary Eileen, Sharon, Elena, Kate, plus Vic and Kate’s girlfriend Pam. She wondered what Sister Agnes would make of them now, but she thought she knew the answer to that one. At least dinner was better than she expected and everyone at the table was being very nice to Vic. Especially since it turned out that Vic seemed to know Monica and Elena from some email list, which was news to Bridget.

  But apart from that, Bridget was still waiting to be surprised. Sure, Vic’s hand was resting on her thigh under the table, but it wasn’t working its way up like she expected. She wondered if anyone would notice if she ducked under the table and went down on her girlfriend. Probably, with this crowd. She wriggled impatiently.

  Vic leaned over to whisper, “Meet me in the girl’s locker room in ten minutes.” Then she got up and took off with Monica.

  Bridget looked after them like a lost puppy as they walked away. A wet, empty puppy whose thong was working its way up into places that wanted to be full of other things. Ten minutes had never taken so long, but she wanted to stay on Vic’s good side so she didn’t get up until nine and one half minutes after Vic and Monica had left.

  She caught Mary Eileen’s knowing smile from the corner of her eye and pulled her friend’s hair lightly as she walked past, for old time’s sake. Then she made herself walk across the gym at a slow ladylike pace toward the locker rooms, occasionally waving to an old schoolmate not too appalled to acknowledge her.

  Eventually, she made it to the locker room door. It was shut and she stopped in front of it, letting her fantasies run wild. She slipped the blazer off her shoulders and unbuttoned her blouse an extra button or two. Then she walked in, pussy muscles clenched tight with anticipation.

  The second she walked in, someone dropped a bag of some kind over her head. Her arms were held behind her back, and she was marched over to what felt like a post. She could feel her hands being securely fastened behind her around the post while someone gave her nipple a wicked pinch.

  Bridget whimpered happily and spread her legs, the cheerful grin on her face hidden by the black bag. A sharp slap with something—a ruler?—on her bare thigh made the grin go away a second after it appeared. Rough hands tugged off the bag leaving her face to face with Monica, who kissed her hard.

  Uh-oh. Hope Vic doesn’t see this. Monica’s hand was squeezing her tit now, too, with enough pressure to make her yelp around Monica’s tongue in her mouth. Then Monica let go of her boob and stuck her hand between Bridget’s legs, driving her fingers up around the thong until Bridget was gasping for air. “You were always such a little slut, Bridge. Now lick my fingers off.” Monica added that last command right after she pulled her fingers out of Bridget’s soaking pussy.

  “I remember,” Monica purred as she watched Bridget carefully suck off each finger on her right hand, “how you were always hanging out here after field hockey practice. What were you hoping for back then, Bridge?”

  Bridget responded with an incoherent gurgle. How had Monica known? Monica wasn’t telling, but she was pulling a largish knife out of her back pocket. She ran the blade down Bridget’s ample cleavage and smiled as she squirmed. Bridget was wild eyed; where was Vic? Surely she hadn’t left her alone with this crazy woman?

  “Well, don’t carve her up before I’ve had any.” Mary Eileen swept into the locker room, giving Bridget an evil grin. She leaned over and bit Bridget’s nipple through the lace of her bra. Bridget yelped. Mary Eileen glanced at Monica. “You bring the ruler? Excellent. I’ve got my old field hockey stick, too.”

  Bridget’s eyes bulged. There was no way Mary Eileen was going to follow through on that unspoken threat. But Mary Eileen pulled a condom out of a bag and opened the package. Then she stretched it over the handle of the stick. She looked up and met Bridget’s wide-eyed stare. “Oh, don’t tell us you didn’t dream about this back in the day, sweetie. I remember you
practically humping Monica in her uniform when you’d had a few beers.”

  So could Bridget. Who could help it? Monica had been so hot. Come to think of it, so had Mary Eileen. And now she was going to get some of her favorite fantasies fulfilled. At least she hoped they were still favorites. She hadn’t thought about the field hockey team in quite a few years, not since Vic came along. She closed her eyes and pictured Vic as the team goalie and a thin line of wetness ran down her thigh.

  “I’d put that on her now,” Mary Eileen murmured to Monica as she ran a hand up Bridget’s thigh and stuck two of her fingers inside her, then pulled them out. “I’m guessing our little Bridget’s a shrieker, aren’t you, sweetie?”

  Bridget nodded like her head was on strings. Monica reached into a bag and came back with a thick, silky scarf in her hands. She covered Bridget’s mouth and tied the scarf behind her head with deft precision. Then she pulled up Bridget’s skirt and cut the thong off her. Bridget moaned, hoping that might be enough to get one of them to take her. She had never felt so empty.

  Instead, Monica chuckled in her ear before running her tongue all the way down to her cleavage. She unfastened the bra and pulled it down so Bridget’s breasts were exposed. Bridget started breathing faster. This was just like her field hockey fantasy. Vic had to be somewhere nearby, planning this whole thing. She was the only one Bridget had ever told about this. She squirmed happily. This was going to be the best belated birthday present ever.

  The door swung open just as Mary Eileen braced the hockey stick on the floor and started working the edge of the handle up into Bridget’s pussy. The smooth hardness of it stretched her out enough that she was making a whole series of protesting noises as the rest of their friends walked in. Elena gave Bridget a nasty grin as she sauntered up. “Our little hockey club slut is finally getting her wish, huh?” She reached around Bridget and slipped a finger up Bridget’s ass just as Mary Eileen finally got the stick at a good angle. Elena leaned in and bit down on the tender skin over Bridget’s collarbone.