Trixie looked sidelong at Rachael. “You Okay?” she said.
“Better and better. But how do you know so many details?”
“We watch her do it.”
“What!”
“Sure. The first rule of the Club is you have to tell your fetish in every detail. Every detail. The second rule... ”
“Oh no!”
“... is that at every meeting someone has to demonstrate their fetish.”
“Wow!”
“So there is nothing I do not know about the girls and their habits”
“Okay, okay, we’ve gone this far. Keep going.”
“We’re just getting started.”
Trixie asked for another cup. Rachael poured.
“Carole is a butt person. She doesn’t take it there, she just is wired for butt excitation. So the sequence usually is that after she’s used Frank on her breasts she lubricates him all over with olive oil, lots of olive oil, and slides him down her butt crack.”
“I’m having trouble visualizing this.”
“Okay. She has all her clothes on. The breast stuff was done by probing. So picture this. Her blouse is unbuttoned part way, it is untucked from her jeans and her bra is all akimbo. Her wide Texas belt is secured with a cowgirl buckle.”
“How does she get the bottle, er, Frank, in there?”
“Force, Rachael, force. That’s part of the pleasure for her. It makes her feel she is being attacked with her clothes on.”
Rachael’s tingling converted to something much more tangible, something she could feel growing wider and wetter between her legs.
“She arches her back, runs the bottle up and down a few times then tightens it by bending over forward, continuing the motions of the bottle. Each thrust tries to go farther down the crack, reaching forward as far as she can get it. Eventually, when the itch gets too great she has to take her pants off and lie on her back and spread her legs and start the bottle sliding along her labia, lubricating, swelling the tissues, engorging her clit. Then she’s ready.”
Trixie paused. Rachael leaned forward. Trixie played with the spoon on the table.
“Jesus, girl. What does she do next?”
Trixie looked up at her as if she was measuring her countenance, measuring something that would tell her how much to say, how explicit to become to this fetish neophyte. Apparently seeing what she needed to see, she proceeded.
“She spreads her legs without touching herself, as if to save it for Frank. She lifts Frank to her mouth and takes him in, rotating him, pressing him in, sticking her tongue in the neck of the bottle and salivating there. She starts to weep from her pussy. Siln, it’s called, and love the word. And love the sensation it gives.”
Rachael thought of her own siln. How little it took to get her going. How it spread down there as she listened to the erotic journey of someone she didn’t even know. She must be sexually hotter than she thought.
When the siln is thick and spreading, running down her bottom to the bed sheets she will finally give Frank his due. She separates her folds with him, points him on her clit, pushes him sideways along her cleft, and then when she can stand no more, dives him into her dark wetness, into the witches brew she’s been making for him.”
Rachael gasped.
Trixie paused and took a deep breath. “You all right?”
Rachael didn’t answer.
Trixie moved on.
“So here’s the picture. Carole still has her top on but her breasts are peeking out because she couldn’t resist plying with them during her prep work. She has nothing on below her waist and there is a coke bottle stuck half-way in her box. She has to finish herself. The bottle bobs up and down with her heartbeat. It wants to move in. It wants to move out. She presses it down with two fingers raising her thighs until they parallel the angle of incidence of Mr. Frank. Then she squeezes.”
“I don’t know if it is just some quirk of her anatomy or if she lubricates the bottle just right or if it’s some circus trick she taught herself, but she presses her quads together in such a way that the bottle moves in and out of her at her whim. She flops her hands out to the bedposts and holds on as she pumps herself this way. Maybe you’ve figured out that it might feel as if someone is doing this to her with her hands free like that, not her doing it to herself. You see she’s feeling powerless to the thrusts as they rise in intensity and duration... ”
Trixie paused.
“Damn you Trixie. Don’t stop!”
“You want to know what happens. You want to know what happens. She explodes, that’s what. And all of us watching. It was fantastic.
We gathered around and hugged her, caressed her to bring her down slowly from her apogee. What she does works for her and works for us watching her. We gave her an A+.
“You grade each other?”
“I forgot to tell you that.”
“Why do you do that? Wouldn’t that detract from the pleasure?”
“On the contrary. The whole idea is to learn how to enter the elite realm of MSP, maximum sexual pleasure. If someone gets a B or below we have them reinvent themselves, they imagine, they research, they try out new ideas and when they find the right stuff they practice hard to get better at it. Then when they are ready they perform for us again. No one minds. It’s actually more fun to have to do it all over again. Nothing wrong with fresh ideas, you know. Gives us all a chance to get better. Besides, there is a huge turbo charge doing it being watched.”
Trixie eyed Rachael playfully. “Ever done it being watched?”
“Course not!”
“Once you’ve done that you for sure will want to do it again.”
Rachael refreshed their cups and brought some orange wedges from the fridge. Her long black hair had come partly undone from the bobby pins she’d put in that morning and it looked like she had been hit by a small wind storm. She sat down again.
“How many women in your club?”
“Ten.”
“All have a fetish?”
“All.”
Rachael cleared her throat and shifted her weight in her chair. She picked up a piece of lint, rolled it in her hand and thumped it away.
“Will you tell me another story?” she said.
Trixie looked like she was uncertain about the wisdom of revealing any more trade secrets and instead of answering right away she placed her fingers on the budvase and watched herself stroke it gently in the sunlight. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Please, please, please... “
Christine’s Story
“Christine had grown frigid. That’s the clinical term for it.”
The morning had moved into brunch time what with all this talking about fetishes and the sexual habits of Trixie’s little club. Rachael brought out some small sandwiches, juice and more coffee. Trixie took a bite of the egg salad triangle and held it aloft, examining it as if it held the words for the next part of her story.
“She was always a very feminine female: loved horses, danced ballet, was quiet, reserved. She had those posters on her bedroom wall of the rainbows and unicorns, you know the ones. Delicate features were her trademark, small mouth, slightly reseeding chin, skin the white of Michelangelo’s Italian marble, straight blond hair to the middle of her back - drop dead gorgeous!”
Trixie looked bemused as she said this, as if she were dreaming of an idealized someone, a foreign world of magic and beauty. Rachael said nothing.
“She has that classic ballerina body, you know, long narrow waist, high tight breasts, rounded hips from all that standing on her toes and jumping. All the boys wanted her and it’s not that she didn’t enjoy sex she was just never hot for it. She could have had anyone but she picked Jake, the car dealer’s son. Married him. Had two boys.”
Trixie put
her sandwich down, sipped some orange juice, chased a crumb on the tablecloth with her fork. “Beautiful women sometimes pick clunky boys.”
Rachael nodded.
“The marriage lumbered on, the boys were in middle school, Christine went back to ballet, teaching it in the local dance studio. She was very popular. She had a little lesbian affair with one of the dancers but broke it off when it failed to catch fire. By this time Jake had inherited the dealership and was quite wealthy. He decided to take the family to Hawaii and rented the Presidential Suite at the Kahala near Diamondhead on the island of Oahu. They played with the dolphins, went snorkeling at Hanauma bay, sat in their Cabanas and had Pina Coladas brought to their side. It was life as it should be but Christine was nervous. She knew Jake would expect some nice sex from her and she was not interested.”
Trixie looked at Rachael. “Do you see how this is going?”
“Exactly.”
“Tension was mounting. She felt like a mouse in a cage. She had not even wanted to go to Hawaii just because she foresaw this exact scenario and was afraid of how it would play out. Well, mid afternoon came, two Pina Colada’s down, and they were by the pool lying on chez lounges, reading. Usually the help arrange the lounges with clinical precision, all facing the pool stretching out like spokes on a wheel. For some reason one of them was turned around facing oceanside. Christine was on that one, Jake by her side facing opposite. What possessed Jake, Christine will never know, but he did something strange that set the whole universe on its side.”
For dramatic effect Trixie paused and watched to see Rachael’s reaction. It was quick in coming. Rachael leaned forward and made a “move it along” motion with her hands.
Trixie saw the message she was fishing for. “He put his leg across on hers.”
Rachael was perplexed. “That’s all?” She said. “You mean to tell me that changed the universe?”
“Picture the situation. She is reading her murder mystery, he, the Wall Street Journal. His leg suddenly rests on hers. That in itself wouldn’t be enough to do anything but remember the mechanics of that situation. What that gesture does is place his foot high on her thigh, in the crease between them, resting there. That was enough.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Where was the foot?”
“Well, pretty near her sex, I would guess.”
“Yes, but not touching it.”
“How does that do anything?”
Trixie stood up, went to the sink, poured herself a glass of water. Drank half of it. Leaned on the counter and tried to explain. “Imagine this,” she said. Christine is distracted by the mystery she is reading, this leg drops on her and shocks her out of her reverie. Ordinarily, she might react by shifting her position or shoving him away. But something happened in that little accidental transaction. She felt an incredible heat building in her loins, so intense it made her quiver. She had to use all her will power to control herself while trying to figure out what was going on.”
“For god’s sake, what was it?”
“She didn’t know right away but she endured the feeling of outrageous pleasure as best she could and then they went off to dinner.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“It’s not over yet. That night when the children were off at the other end of the suite in their beds with the door closed, she attacked him.”
“Jesus!”
“He was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard still reading his damn paper and she came up and straddled him. She was wearing one of those beach dresses with brief Bikini-like panties underneath, a light blouse tied at the waist. She took off the blouse, removed her bra and rubbed his face with her breasts.”
“Ooooh, this is getting good.”
“She took off his shirt, unbuckled his pants, took him out and sucked him.”
“I’m not believing this.”
“She wasn’t either. Ordinarily she was repulsed by the notion of a penis in her throat and did her best to avoid it. This time she went right for it as if it were a magnet to her deep mouth. He was soft when she started and she claims she swallowed him all the way. By this time she had thrown off her dress and was only in her panties. As she went down on him she slid down his left leg.”
Trixie moved from her position leaning on the counter by the sink and returned to her chair. She raised her hand. “Do you see what is happening here?”
“I see. Yeah that’s for sure. But I don’t understand it yet.”
“I think you’re catching on. A little. So there’s more.”
“I hope so.”
“As she sucked him she rubbed her clit on the top of his foot and quickly came. Really hard, as if she had been saving that up for many years, building up incredible pressure inside her. She said it was like an atom bomb going off. Well, then the spell was broken. She let him fuck her any way he wanted. He threw her on the bed and inserted himself in her without removing her panties, just pulling them to one side. His favorite position was upright from behind so he stood her up against the wall and fucked her from behind.”
“They slept really well that night.”
“I’m still not sure I get it.”
“She wasn’t sure either. And it bothered and perplexed her. She worried that she would turn off as sharply as she turned on. Maybe it was Hawaii. Maybe it was the Kahala Presidential Suite. Maybe the meridians of the mid Pacific Ocean. You see her problem.”
“I do.”
“So when they got home she worried. Would she be willing? Would she find out the solution? She didn’t right away, and the coldness creped back in. Jake must have thought it was the curse of their household, but if he did he would have been wrong.”
“One day she was going to Macy’s and she saw a manikin. It was one of those window dressings that depicted a healthy couple on a beach. There was a guy there, just an ordinary manikin-type, nothing special. She examined him, curious to see if she could figure anything about him that turned her on. She looked at his pretty face. Ugh! His muscular pecs. Not interested! His waist, trunks, legs... . nothing! Then she got to his feet and the surge almost lifted her off the pavement. It was feet. Feet! That was the trigger.”
“Oh my god!”
“Thereafter it was easy. When she wanted to turn on she just played with his feet, massaging them, stroking them putting them between her legs and rubbing herself. She turned into the hottest chick she’d ever heard of and was having a hell of a time.”
“That’s amazing. Sounds like it fixed the marriage.”
“Not exactly. He was a putz. Not interested in her ballet, didn’t contribute to the household shores, was getting fat around the waist, altogether an improper match for such a lovely artistic girl.”
“Sounds bad. Was the foot thing enough to hold them together?”
“For a while. Unconsciously, she’d begun a little experimentation. She would mount his foot during sex, push herself against his heel, the ball of the foot, his toes. She even began to insert one or two toes inside her. But by now she’d had an awakening of her own, probably because of this experience, and she was seeing herself and her sexuality in an entirely different light. Her imagination opened up. Her energy returned. She became more social, more active in the community, garnered a circle of friends that had little in common with her husband’s gang of sports fans sitting around weekends drinking beer and watching football.”
“This is not going well.”
“Yeah, but you see, she’s equipped now. Not the same wimpy soul she was before. She’s empowered so you know she’ll come out of this okay.”
“But something’s gotta break.”
“And it did. One Christmas season she signed on as extra holiday help at Macy’s, working in the clothing department, more for something to do than for the need of money. You
know those sock displays they have?”
“Sure.”
“The ones with the manikin foot in them.”
“I can see it now.”
“Yeah. It’s just a foot with a sock on it. Well, guess what.”
“What?”
“She stole it.”
“Stole it!”
“Stole the foot and the sock. Right out of the store. Just packed it in her bag and took it home.”
“She got away with that?”
“Well they don’t exactly put magnetic code on a manikin foot. Who would want it bad enough to steal it?”
“Rachael laughed out loud. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No it’s not. She wanted her foot.”
They both laughed long and hard.
“Well the marriage hit the rocks but it didn’t matter. It was headed that way anyway. But she had her lifeboat and he didn’t have a clue.”
Rachael frowned. “But this is not exactly a fetish, that is, if you abide by your definition that it’s not a body part.”
“Okay. But it is when it’s a manikin foot, don’t you think?”
“Welllll, alright. I can go for that.”
“Besides she has the best of both worlds. Any lover she finds she’ll use her foot attraction thing and he... or she... will be amused at her ingenuity. Meanwhile, she’s got her plastic foot.”
Rachael realized she was sitting in more wetness than she could endure so she excused herself to the bathroom. “When I come back I want to hear how she did her performance for the rest of your group.
“Ahh. Now that’s something to look forward to.”
Christine’s Performance
Rachael returned refreshed. She had sponged off her pubis and cooled down her hot tissues with a cold washcloth. She left some tissue folded inside her panties because she was certain, given the sexual heat of the stories Trixie was telling, that there would be other rivers to follow.
She sat at the breakfast table like a starved traveler, waiting for her feast.
Trixie talked about the neighbors having loud dogs, the Peonies she saw when coming up the walk. Rachael was getting antsy.
The Taste of a Woman Page 6